Another Story - 20801.01

It was another typical day for Ensign Peter Nicone. He was an engineer on the Agincourt. He was on the older side and if he had any motivation about him, he would have been promoted much sooner. Instead he bided his time at work and was in his thirties. There were rumors around the ship that he wasn’t quite normal but all people knew for sure he was on the shy side.

The young white balding human with brunette hair went straight to his quarters and let his obsession take over for the rest of the evening. That was what got him through each and every day: ways to impress section 31 and become a legitimate spy for the Federation. He failed to be accepted into the intelligence department at the federation, something about being too paranoid and trusting conspiracy theories. Instead he worked towards being an engineer and kept his fascination alive.

When he walked into his quarters he scanned all the news the FNN and then the less reliable in most people’s eyes, although highly legitimate Universal Inquirer. He was looking for anything and everything related to the Borg invasion and the destruction of the Valley Forge. He never bought the commissions where they said it was accidental and a result of the bad communication between bureaus, lack of creativity and poor leadership. It was too easy of a solution plus there was a certain appeal that the Federation Council knew it might happen and did nothing so they could force people to rely more on them for peace. Although that idea kind of back fired since several planets did leave the Federation after the war but that’s doesn’t nullify the idea.

There was no new news for Peter tonight. But that didn’t disappoint him; he could perfect his theory before he presented another report and paper to submit to the most likely channels for the submission into section 31. He was sure they still existed but his childhood friends always thought he was crazy for still believing in all the covert operations. But he thought he had some proof and he stopped being friends with them. That was the last time he really had friends he opened up too.

As he had his assemblage of notes, history and artifacts of the covert operations laid out around his room; his door chime rang.

Drat it all to hell. Who could it be at this hour? I’m not expecting anyone to show up at this time of night. Unless…

He then was hopeful. He immediately straightened his uniform and combed his hair before he said “enter”. His hopes were dashed when he saw the ship’s counselor. He really didn’t want to talk to her.

Crap. I have to deal with her again. I thought I got that monkey off my back.

“Hello Peter. Did you forget about our appointment after your shift? Or are you chasing ghosts again?” asked Counselor Benson.

Peter shook his head. He knew didn’t have an appointment. She said that they would be through if he continued to socialize in the lounge at least twice a week. He was sticking to that routine. He hated taking that time out of his research. But if it proved that he was a team player, it could help him get into section 31, he was sure of it this time.

“I thought we done with the appointments. Don’t you remember?”

“Not quite yet. You aren’t completely clear yet. You can go to work and you are socializing much better now. But we still had to make sure you aren’t going to be chasing after the ghosts all the time and neglect your duties again.”

That’s when the tall brunette counselor looked around and realized that Peter hadn’t really improved all that much. He was still as convinced as ever that he could get into a non-existent section of the Federation.

She shook her head in that realization. She hated being played for a fool but at the same time she could understand that he was doing everything she asked despite not really believing anything she said. So she would have to try a new approach with this reluctant ensign. “I see that you haven’t completely given up on everything. Are you still focusing on your skills as an engineer? Aren’t you forgetting that you can probably find some amazing things by being able to analyze everything mechanically? I’m sure that if Section 31 was truly looking for a new recruit, they would want someone who is a leader in their field and can write a report. Your record is less then stellar; now if you commit yourself you could maybe stand out some more. Why don’t you let me help you, I can read over any reports you write and forward the good ones on to a friend in federation intelligence. But only if you both focus more on work and start to socialize with the people on the ship, do we have a deal?”

Peter nodded in a reluctant agreement. It seemed like a fair deal and she was speaking true. His job record was less then stellar and they would likely want to see someone who stood out. But for some reason, he never thought that his reports would get passed on, but what could he do except maybe created a subprogram embedded in the reports but he would worry about that later, he just wanted the counselor to go away.

“Okay we have a deal? Do you want me to go out now?”

“Well we could talk out the theory but I think it’s getting late enough. We will meet tomorrow and I will be speaking with your chief to see what kind of suggestions he has.”

With that, Counselor Benson left the quarters and Peter was left was to fret over the latest experience with the counselor. He was tired of being considered weird over his hobby. It was quite logical and he only wanted to know the truth and serve the intelligence community.

He was getting quite tired for the night and decided that it was time to go to bed. He knew tomorrow would be a better day. Maybe he would be able to be taken seriously if he didn’t choose to be ultra-covert about his hobby.

Midway through the night when all was still, an explosion rattled the room. Peter was thrown from his bed and hit the wall hard. He never really woke up since he was sound asleep and then basically got knocked out immediately as his body went to the floor.

Within a few minutes, security people were in the room trying to put out the flames and figure out what happened. It appeared that there was some sort of device connected to the computer system that exploded. They were not sure if it was actually a bomb or if it was something that Peter installed himself to help make the room soundproof and anti-spy ware. The security group was leaning towards the last option since they saw a lot of stuff that pointed to the fact that the guy was a wee bit unstable and his engineering abilities were well-known in the department to be a bit on the negligent side. But they couldn’t ask the engineer if he would have installed anything for a while since he was immediately sent to sickbay and was still unconscious.

About two hours later, Peter woke up in a daze. He realized that he was in sickbay but he was unsure what happened. He saw Dr. Wall standing over him along with a very concerned Counselor Benson.

What happened? Why is the Counselor here?

“Wha…What happened? Is there something wrong with me?”

Dr. Wall was the first to speak. He took a deep breath and spoke very calmly, “There has been an explosion in your quarters and you had received a concussion. We have treated that problem but don’t be surprised if you don’t remember everything clearly. I’ve asked the Counselor to help with you during your recovery. But you are free to go to your temporary quarters. You are prohibited from work until you are medically cleared by the Counselor since she is most familiar with you and if are any issues. Understood?”

Peter nodded. Then he looked at the counselor. She immediately said, “I will show you to your quarters and we can discuss a few things on the way.”

Peter felt like he was a bit babied but given the fact he had a concussion, he was putting up with it. He walked with the counselor to his new room.

“Did you know you inadvertently caused the explosion in your room? Your little device attached to the computer shorted out and due to the placement of it caused a minor explosion. Most of your artifacts, we’re preserved.” She then stopped very suddenly and opened up a set of doors. “We moved most of them into your quarters, which these are it. If there is any problems feel free to call me at any time. I will let you sleep now.”

Peter looked around in the quarters and the assembly of articles. He was just shocked, at what he saw. He felt like that his whole life was crazy and full of some sort of conspiracy freak. His memory of his hobbies were completely gone, he just felt so lost with his own life.

What kind of person was I before this accident? Do I really want to return to that kind of life?

He started to finger each object and examined it closely. It was all PADDs and news clippings and incoherent thoughts strewn about with a sort of mass conspiracy ideas. He also noticed that there was something lacking in his life.

Why don’t I have any pictures of friends and people? It’s nothing but this conspiracy stuff. I had to be some sort of conspiracy nut?

He was starting to panic. He didn’t like what he was seeing. He realized he was missing out so he pulled up his personnel record. There was just a bare bones bio and no real achievements. Even the comments on his reviews was that he was stand-offish and with a mind not on his work despite the potential.

He needed to talk to the counselor again. He wanted to know more and if he would be forced to revert to him old self or could try to change. He paged the counselor, “Ensign Nicone to Counselor Benson, I have a question. Will I revert to being a conspiracy freak that lacks a social circle or can I actually change with this concussion?”

[That’s what is up to you. But you could have a whole new life, if you let yourself. But that’s only for the future to decide.]

“Oh okay, I guess that works. But would it be okay if I were to leave my quarters and go to lounge and try to meet people?”

Then he heard something that almost sounded like a sigh of relief from the comm. line. Then he head, [Of course you are allowed to go. Go. Go.]

With that he ended the comm. line and headed out the door to see if he could change his life some. But would it stick?