Devin's Misadventures In Time

Posted on Fri Dec 5th, 2025 @ 12:03am by Lieutenant Commander Devin Hadenbeer

1,141 words; about a 6 minute read

THE PAST:

Devin watched as Doctor Horst frowned at the readouts displayed on the wall monitor.

“You’ve done your liver no small amount of good,” she groused, “I see damage from excessive alcohol, and…” she cocked her head, “I am not familiar with…What are you doing?!”

Devin only belatedly realized she could have set off the fire suppression system with her lighter. Fortunately the flame had been brief, just long enough to light the fag. She took a drag and sighed as she felt the smoke fill her lungs. She held it there for several long seconds, then blew the smoke out through her nostrils as she stared at the ceiling. No fire suppression. Yet. Well, thank goodness for small mercies.

“Well,” Horst muttered, “That explains the damage to your lungs. Just how many-“

“A pack a day.”

“…which is…?”

“Twenty.”

Horst’s eyebrows looked as if they were going to climb right off the back of her head, “Why-“

Devin sighed, “Look, Doctor, you had to be there.”

“Would you at least put that thing out?”

Devin smiled, took another drag, “Certainly. When I’m done with it.”

Before Horst could utter another word the sickbay doors swooshed open and Devin sighed as Captain Subotai strolled in. He paused and took note of her rust colored cowl necked sweater, bell bottom jeans and peep toed sandals.

Then he stared at the cigarette.

“Lieutenant,” he began.

Devin pulled out her pack of cigs and regarded it: four left. Sighing, she set one aside and lit another with the remains of her first. She looked about for a place to drop the butt, noted the doctor’s tray of medical instruments and stubbed it out there, which caused Horst the almost throw a fit.

“Yes, Captain?” Devin inquired mildly, “Were you going to ask me how three months of exile in the mid to late twentieth century went?”

Subotai had the good grace to look abashed, “We returned as quickly as we could. The temporal storm-“

“Right. Well, lieutenant Coopersmith’s experience with the time period proved invaluable in regards to us navigating the ins and outs of the period, but his utter lack of, well, useful skills meant I had to become the bread winner. Meaning I had to work. Fourteen hours a day. If I was not performing as a session musician in a recording studio, I was playing piano in a jazz club,” she turned to the doctor, “Which in order to survive the ordeal of playing and listening to jazz I had to numb myself with alcohol and marijuana-“

Horst brightened, “Ah! That was the source of the-“

“Right. So yes, I have been exposed to not one, not two, but three different drugs on a regular basis. On a personal note I believe my piano playing improved considerably when I was just a little high. It was all a matter of finding the right balance, you see. By the time you picked us up I think I had it down cold.”

Subotai frowned, “Lieutenant, do you have to keep…”

“Smoking.”

“Right. Do you have to keep smoking that…thing?”

Devin blinked, “Goodness me, Captain, yes.”

*

Devin found that despite the doctor flushing out her system of all unwanted chemicals she still craved a fag. Fortunately she did not crave a drink. She glanced at the replicator in her room and idly wondered if it could create a pack of cigs when her door chime sounded.

“Enter!” she called out as she sat up onto the edge of her bed.

The doors swooshed open and Jones stood there, arms folded, looking for all the world like a disapproving parent.

Wonderful.

"Chief, I am not-"

Jones stepped into Devin's quarters and allowed the doors to swoosh shut behind him.

"Just what," he stated, "Was that little display of insubordination about, lieutenant?"

Devin rubbed her eyes, "Mister Jones, Could we please do this another time?"

"No."

Devin sighed. Technically she outranked the man. But S.V. Jones had been her friend, her mentor, her confidant. He was almost like an uncle, really. Telling him to leave was so out of the question it was ridiculous to even consider it.

"I was tired," she said, "Tired and, and frustrated, Mister Jones."

Jones grimaced, then his rough features softened. Marginally, "Did you really have to smoke the last cigarette? Right in front of lieutenant Burke?"

"If I said 'yes' would that make you even more disappointed in me?"

Jones sighed, "I'm not disappointed, Devin. I'm...Well, all right, yes, I am just a little disappointed. Officers can have long memories; you can't afford to make enemies or form bad impressions in their minds. Word can get around that you are difficult and the next thing you know opportunities go to other young, ambitious officers! All your hard work-"

"Don't you mean all of our hard work?"

Jones shook his head, "You are the one doing the heavy lifting, lieutenant. You are the one taking the risks. I am simply standing at a transporter control panel," he paused, then said, "I am sorry if I am coming across as harsh, but-"

"No, no," Devin replied with a sigh, "I need to hear this. You mean well and you are right far, far more often than not. Annoyingly so. I will apologize to the doctor, Captain Subotai and lieutenant Burke tomorrow."

Jones smiled, "Excellent! A little humility will go a long way towards undoing the carnage."

Devin smiled tiredly, "Thank you for stopping by, Mister Jones."

"My pleasure, Mister Hadenbeer," Jones turned to leave, then paused and turned back, "did you...turn in everything from your temporal adventure?"

"Of course I did," Devin replied, "Right down to my under garments, which was quite embarrassing, thank you."

"Well...good. They would not look kindly upon you if you hoarded a souvenir or two."

"Yes, well, Burke made that crystal clear."

Jones hesitated, then gave a final nod and departed.


Devin waited several minutes to ensure Jones was not returning, then she stole over to the closet. She opened it and reached behind a box to pull out a sleeve. She reached in and removed a photograph.

The man with the slight overbite had hurt his hand, necessitating in her filling in for him on some of the recordings for the band’s second album. The four men in the band had been quite nice and when she had politely asked for a photo to be taken with them as well as autographs in lieu of payment they had gladly agreed, and to their credit had paid her anyway. She smiled as she regarded the photo.

A picture of her with Queen would be quite the conversation piece when next she saw her brothers, she thought with a grin as she replaced the photo…

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