Very Interesting Indeed

Posted on Mon Feb 24th, 2025 @ 5:45pm by Lieutenant Haz Mondo PsyD

Mission: 01-A Change
Location: Counselling Suite, Medical Section, Deep Space K-17
Timeline: MD01-0845

Haz Mondo stepped into his counseling suite aboard Deep Space K-17, the doors hissing shut behind him. The space was compact but well-appointed, a blend of Starfleet-standard functionality and the station’s distinct retro aesthetic. Smooth curved walls framed the room, punctuated by panels of jewel-toned buttons and softly glowing interfaces. The lighting was warm, though Haz suspected he might adjust it later—he preferred a softer glow when working.

He set down the small carry-case he’d brought with him from the USS Lo’rathe, brushing a hand absently through his tousled blue hair as he surveyed the space. It was nicer than he'd expected. He’d worked in worse. He’d lived in worse. But for now, it was his.

Unsnapping the case, Haz withdrew a few personal items to make the room feel a little more like his own. First, a sleek, translucent holo-frame, which he set on the desk. It cycled through images from his time aboard past postings—colleagues, old friends, a few stolen moments of happiness. Then, a Catullan meditation orb, a deep amethyst sphere, which he placed on the small side table near the seating area. With a flick of his fingers, the orb emitted a faint, rhythmic hum, barely perceptible but soothing in the quiet space. Last, a small, folded cloth of brilliant magenta and gold—part of a Catullan ceremonial sash. It wasn’t something he wore often, but it had been a gift from someone he respected. That, he draped neatly over the back of his chair.

Stepping back, he surveyed the room again. Better. Still stark, still clinical, but at least now it wasn’t entirely devoid of personality.

With a sigh, he moved to the terminal on his desk and activated the console. The station’s crew records were already queued up for him, waiting to be reviewed. He exhaled through his nose, letting his focus settle as he began scrolling through names and personnel files.

There were a lot of them. A mix of seasoned officers, transfers, and—interestingly—a fair number of Starfleet’s so-called ‘riff-raff.’ He smirked at the thought. The kind of people other postings might consider misfits or troublemakers. The kind of people Haz often found the most interesting.

Captain Grimaldi-Ral’s profile was already flagged for priority review, along with other senior staff. Haz skimmed the details, already familiar with some, but taking his time with others. His job wasn’t just to know their records—it was to understand them.

He continued scrolling, absorbing names, ranks, major medical notes, psychological profiles. Patterns began forming in his mind, the first threads of understanding weaving together. This station had history. It had tension. And it had potential.

His gaze stuck to the display as his foot tapped absently on the floor. He allowed his fingertips to graze the edge of the holo-frame. There were disciplinary reports, commendations, even a few redacted sections that piqued his curiosity. Every crew had its secrets. He made a mental note of which ones he’d need to unravel first.

A chime from his terminal interrupted his thoughts. A notification—his first scheduled appointment had been slotted for later in the day. Someone had wasted no time reaching out. He smirked, glancing at the name attached. That would be interesting.

Leaning back in his chair, he let his eyes flick over to the meditation orb, its hum a steady, familiar presence. Haz smirked to himself. This was going to be interesting.

Very interesting indeed.