The Impossible Crew
Posted on Wed Jul 8th, 2026 @ 8:20pm by Lieutenant Celestine Eisenhorn
424 words; about a 2 minute read
Mission:
Trouble with Mudd
Location: Sickbay
Timeline: Present
:ON:
{USS Montana, Sickbay}
The newcomers halted just inside Sickbay. None raised a weapon. Their uniforms were unmistakably Starfleet in cut. Dark duty jackets and trousers, but stripped of every identifying mark. No rank braid. No division insignia. No name tags.
The leader inclined their head. “Captain Murphy. Step aside.”
Murphy didn’t move. “Identify yourselves.”
“Our identities are irrelevant.”
Before Murphy could reply, Dr. Eisenhorn stepped around the biobed, tricorder already in hand. “Well, if we’re handing out useless information,” she said dryly, “my patient’s name is Harry Mudd, and you’re trespassing in my Sickbay.” She swept the tricorder across the group, frowned, then repeated the scan. “…That’s impossible.”
Murphy glanced at her. “Doctor?”
“No life signs. No unusual radiation. No measurable energy output.” She lowered the tricorder and looked directly at the visitors. “Either this tricorder’s chosen a spectacular moment to resign, or you lot shouldn’t be standing there.”
Mudd’s easy smile slipped. “Oh…”
Eisenhorn shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you recognise them.”
“Recognise? No.” He swallowed. “Know of them? Unfortunately.”
“Marvellous,” she muttered. “As if one professional nuisance wasn’t enough.”
The leader ignored her. “Harcourt Fenton Mudd. Return what you took.”
Mudd managed a weak grin. “I prefer to think of it as an extended loan.”
“You’ve had it for twelve years.”
Eisenhorn folded her arms. “Mudd, if you’ve stolen something from people who don’t show up on tricorders, this is the point where I stop feeling sorry for you.”
The leader did not react. “Return what you took.”
Eisenhorn folded her arms. “Harry, I have to say, most criminals steal money, weapons, maybe classified technology. You somehow managed to steal something from people who don’t appear on my tricorder.”
Murphy looked at Mudd. “What did you take?”
Mudd hesitated.
Eisenhorn noticed immediately. “That’s new. You usually lie before you’ve even finished hearing the question.”
The stranger stepped forward. “The object does not belong in this time.”
Eisenhorn raised an eyebrow. “This time?”
The lights flickered. The Sickbay computer console activated without anyone touching it. Eisenhorn looked down at her tricorder. “Captain…”
“Doctor?”
“I’m getting a reading now.” Her expression changed. “Human. Starfleet.”
Murphy looked at the unmarked uniforms. “Names?”
Eisenhorn checked the display. Then went very still.
Mudd’s smile disappeared.
Eisenhorn looked up. “Captain… there’s a problem.” She turned the tricorder around. “These crew members were killed eleven years ago.”
:OFF:
Dr (Lt.) Celestine Eisenhorn
Chief Medical Officer
USS Montana
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