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Petty Officer 3rd Class Connor Sedgewick - Transporter of Solitude

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((Transporter Room, Deck 7, USS Intrepid))


Petty Officer 3rd Class Connor Aiden Sedgewick was not perturbed by much. He was in Starfleet to do a job, not to go on adventures or make new friends and thus far, he had succeeded in avoiding both. Some jobs required a level of meticulousness and lack of imagination and Connor had that in spades.


He reported every morning to his duty shift at 0900 sharp and ran the standard diagnostics on the transporter controls. Yesterday, the crewman he had relieved had tried telling him that there was no need—the Gamma Shift operator had just run one—but that wasn’t protocol and Connor would not skip protocol. There were reasons things were done a certain way. Especially with a dangerous piece of equipment like a transporter pad.


He had heard stories. Oh, there were stories. Transporter clones, transporting to a mirror dimension, transporting two individuals into the same body. Well, not on Connor’s watch. He would do things by the book. So, he ran his diagnostics. Every morning.


It was a solitary job—most days passed without anyone calling down, let alone coming in to be transported—and Connor preferred it that way. He wasn’t good at “human interaction” and did not care to get better. He was perfectly contented doing his job, then retiring to his quarters for a single malt and a nice historical holodoc. If he was lucky, his roommates wouldn’t interrupt him and try to get him to socialize with them in 7-Forward. What a waste. Recently, most of the crew had gone down to a shore leave planet for a ceremony and dinner and Connor had had the cabin to himself. That was a good night.


Today had begun like most other days, but then, despite his efforts to avoid it, adventure found Connor. He, along with the crew of the ‘Oumuamua, had seemingly been transported in time and space to the 23rd century and a Constitution-class starship. However, there had been no swirling lights or energizing sounds of a transporter effect, Connor was sure of that. And his uniform had been changed. It irked him, a little, to be pulled out of his normal time and place and redressed, but in the mind of Connor Aiden Sedgwick, Petty Officer 3rd class, it changed nothing. He still had a duty to do.


So while some crewman had run around the ship, looking for someone to tell them what was going on, Connor had reported to the transporter room.


There was no one to relieve.


Sedgewick: *Hrumpf*


Someone had obviously lost their cool and abandoned their post. Well, Connor wouldn’t. That’s how accidents happened.


He ran his diagnostics, as was protocol, and settled into his duty station. Transporters hadn’t changed much in the last 150 years and, besides, he was well acquainted with every model of transporter that Starfleet had ever used. It was, in his mind, simply part of the job.


The first part of his shift passed in relative peace. No one came in, no messages from the bridge. Whatever the larger situation, it did not call for transporters. But if it did, Connor would be ready. And if it didn’t. Well, that was fine too. He would hold the line.


The second half of his shift had a little excitement. The wall intercom sprang to life and projected a voice from engineering.


Arlill: =/\= Engineering, Lieutenant Arlill to main transporter room =/\=


Sedgewick: =/\= Transport control, Petty Officer, 3rd Class Sedgwick on duty. =/\=


Arlill: =/\= please transfer controls to engineering (beat) :: looking at the console number a few feet away :: console 18402. =/\=


Connor made the adjustment and transferred control to console 18402.


Sedgewick: =/\= Control transfer Lieutenant =/\=


Whatever was going on or needed, must have been sufficient, because there was no additional follow-up communication.


Connor Sedgewick moved back to the main console—now without control of the transporter function—and continued to man his post.



[[End scene for Connor Sedgewick]]

Petty Officer, 3rd Class Connor Sedgewick
Transporter Operator
USS Oumuamua

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