The Joys of Management
Posted on February 25th, 2015 by Rodney Quinn

Rodney hadn’t had a whole lot of time to spend on his sickbay confrontation with Ilaihr, but that was really just as well. He’d needed to know just what the hell was going on the next deck up, if it was as much of a headache as it had sounded over the comm (Verdict: Yep.), and he’d left engineering in damn good hands for his few minutes of fact finding, but even so, the cocky old Andorian WAS right about one thing: Engineering’s priorities lay elsewhere. And given his mounting shock and anger which fairly assaulted him in the wake of a subordinate’s unrepentant insubordination, it seemed only prudent to cut the conversation short before he embarrassed himself by making a scene in front of the medical staff. He HAD made one last attempt to spell things out clearly: Ilaihr was relieved of duty until he could present written authorization from Doctor Tav. Which would be independently confirmed. And while the ensign was already guilty of disobedience to the instructions of two superior officers, he should feel free to attempt the threatened escape, provided he wished to try for a repeat performance with security. A short, private conversation with Doctor Tav had followed. An update was requested, the necessary apologies were made, and Quinn held the matter dealt with.

Right.

He was reasonably certain he kept most of it from his expression for the sake of wandering eyes, but he was still inwardly berating himself as he signaled the turbolift, and without the attempt at restraint once the doors had swished shut behind him. It wasn’t because he saw himself as being in the wrong in this particular case, of course. If the man could hear the same instructions from his boss THRICE over the span of five minutes, ignore them anyway, and still fail to see what all the fuss was about, then there was a real problem here, one which he felt comfortable saying did not originate with him. But as shocked as Rodney was by this turn of events, it would be disingenuous of him to claim, even to himself that he’d not had some concerns regarding this particular new officer prior.

It had just been little things, of course. Hardly worth mentioning, unless he was being a jerk about it. Sure, the repeated and open references to the good old smuggler days might have made him a little uneasy, but if Starfleet hadn’t been concerned about it, then it wasn’t Rodney Quinn’s place to make it an issue, and it was really no different than if he’d told a story about his pizza delivery boy days. Now, referring to him as “Mr. Quinn” in front of a cadet WAS an actual breach of protocol, and critiquing his social skills to that same cadet added another dimension to it entirely, but come on, really? Demanding his title? He needed competence in his people, and he had it, in spades. He didn’t need to be so small as to puff out his chest and remind those around him of his rank just for his own validation! No way, no how.

And now, the genial and easygoing engineer who everyone liked had failed one of his people as thoroughly as he’d been failed in turn. Because he hadn’t wanted to press the little stuff…he hadn’t. And now, it wasn’t so little anymore. So NOT little, in fact, that he was struggling to see any available alternative to writing up a formal reprimand. Maybe he could seek some bright spot in all that? He couldn’t think of much now, but then he was angry, a distraction he simply could not afford right now. And in the past, particularly back during his Academy days, he’d often found that taking a break to do some writing was a great way to clear his head. Creative Writing may not have been an elective one typically expected an Engineering major to excel in, but it had been a Godsend.

Maybe, once things had calmed down a little, he could find and dust off his old lucky PADD. Possibly even pay another visit to the Seven Scattered Sons of Kodos…

“Chief!” Gant’s strained voice suddenly broke in over his comm, interrupting his musings, but proving writing wasn’t the ONLY thing that could at least temporarily banish his stray thoughts. “They just transmitted via the probe.”

“And?”

“The vacuole’s sped up its expansion. And we’re not talking just a little here.”

“Relay everything to the bridge station.” he instructed, hurriedly redirecting the lift to deck one. “I’m on my way.”

Well. So much for bright spots.