Just a few hours on the station, and Neil remembered why he enjoyed starship life so much more. It was all the people, which was a contradiction given his chosen career. As a Diplomat, he had spent most of his life around people, but stations were just plain different for some reason. Everywhere he looked, people seemed too busy, and yet something was off. The traffic today seemed confused, lost, and more serious than normal. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
He stepped into a nearby lift, “Deck 13,” he ordered. He’d changed his uniform, checked in with Lucia, and was now on his way to Starfleet’s equivalent of a Personnel Department. He knew a command wasn’t in his future just yet, but he wasn’t going to just sit here on the station. Surely, while Starfleet made up their mind, a craft this extensive had use for him.
It was not out of the ordinary for the Personnel Office to be filled with staff, as a station of this size managed a lot of incoming and outcoming traffic. However, Neil couldn’t help but notice the traffic today was exceptionally high. Before he could make it to the desk, a Commander appeared from the doorway and gestured to him, “Harrington, in here.”
Neil wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing; how did he warrant this level of attention. He entered the room as he stood in front of the desk; probably a bit more formal than his usual appearance. “Commander Corn..”
The Commander interrupted him, “Yes, yes, I already know who you are.” He handed him a padd, “I will make this short and sweet.” He pointed to padd, “you’ve been temporarily reassigned to the runabout Trent, under the command of Commander Yanrel Vex. I wish I had more, but I don’t. You are to report to runabout immediately for your assignment; best of luck, Commander.”
Neil paused, looking over the padd, “There seems to be a mistake; I was sent to the station for an assignment..”
Once again, he was cut off, “Commander,” the man pointed to the door, “I have an office full of people who are going to get the same speech you are. Something happened; everyone’s getting moved, report to the Trent or the brig. It’s entirely your choice.” The older Commander rubbed his templates, “I don’t even know why or what’s going on but apparently, it’s big. We’ve got every Flag Officer and Captain up in Ops in constant communication with Starfleet Command. So, do me a favor and just run along and report to Vex.”
Neil took the padd as he left the room, completely and totally confused. It wasn’t until he was in the lift that he actually read over his assignment. “Force relocation of the locals…” he continued to read as he glanced over the highlights, “All other directives reclined.” He wasn’t sure who he was talking to afterall he was alone in the lift. “Override the Prime Directive,” he openly laughed, “not a chance in hell,” he muttered.
He tapped his comm badge, “computer location of the runabout Trent?” His entire career had been about one thing, Starfleet and diplomacy. There was nothing on this padd that settled well with him, and if the Commander wasn’t giving him answers, then Vex would.