<Lt. Cmdr. Max Mortimer, Personal Quarters>

Mortimer throws himself through the door to his cabin as it opens.

"Activate terminal"

"Starbase Ops, this is Lt. Cmdr. Mortimer ready to receive priority one message"

The Starfleet logo appears on his terminal, along with the words "Priority One Message. Confirm Identity"

"Mortimer, Lt. Cmdr Maxwell. Acting First Officer, USS Lafayette"

"Identity Confirmed"

The screen lights up with the face of Commander Tnega, Starfleet Intelligence. Behind him is the bulky form of Lieutenant Allirog, his sidekick.

Oh, for pitys sake. What does he want?

"Mr. Mortimer. How nice to see you again"
"Nice", repeats Allirog.

"I see that Allirog's as irrating as ever. Whatever it is I'm not interested."

"Now, that's no way to speak to somebody who is checking that you are alright after narrowly escaping death from a decompressing shuttlecraft"
"Shuttlecraft", adds Allirog.

"A shuttlecraft I wouldn't have had to use if you had beamed us out of there in time."

"I must apologize for Allirog's incompetence there, he was servicing the transporter to make sure that it would be ready for you, and he dropped a sandwich into the energizing coils."
"Sandwich" Allirog licks his lips.

"Just tell me what it is you want so I can tell you I won't do it and get back to work"

"(sigh). I really was expecting you to be more repectful of a senior officer. Especially one working in Intelligence."
"Intelligence" says Allirog. Somehow the word seems out of place.

"Especially one with information on your brother."
"Brother"

"I don't believe you any more, Tnega."

"Stardate 41253.6, Captain Alexander Mortimer was part of a mission known as 'Operation Confusion' . He was sent to Ch'Rihan for an undercover assignment. He sent four coded tranmissions. The last was on 41836.1. He hasn't been heard from since. That was eight years ago."

"Tell me more."

"That's all you getting for free. Call it a.... a show of good faith. I'll be in touch some time in the future. Goodbye Mr. Mortimer"

"Dammit Tnega. What do you want?"

Tnega breaks the connection.

"TNEGA!!!!"

Mortimer punches the terminal, and then wishes he had used his artificial left hand as the screen shatters, cutting his fist to shreds.

"Mortimer.... to sickbay... Send.. a.... a medic... to... my .... my quarters...."

He walks across to his replicator, clutching his injured hand under his other arm.

"Double.. whisky... "
A glass appears, and Mortimer drinks it straight down.

Damn non-alchoholic overrides.

Lt. Barrett enters. "What happened?"

"Nothing!" he snaps.

"Doesn't look like nothing to me." She says, casting an eye over the broken terminal and the blood on the glass fragments.
She applies a hypospray to his wrist. "That should get the blood to clot. We'd better take this to sickbay"
"Can't you give me something for the pain?"
"Yes, but I'm not going to. I'm conserving medical supplies for those who deserve them, not those who wouldn't be injured if they weren't so stupid."

Mortimer follows her to sickbay, where the glass is removed, and his hand sprayed with a flesh-substitute. Luckily most of the ship is deserted, with the crew on shore leave, and he gets there without being seen.

He returns to his cabin. "Mortimer to Engineering. Could you send somebody to my quarters with a new desktop terminal, please"

He walks over to his cupboard unit. Three shelves hold a diverse array of items. Things that have special meaning to him.

His graduation certificates from Cambridge and Starfleet Academy. A holo of his academy classmates. 
His medal of honor. 
His transfer papers to the Lafayette. 
The charred remains of the communicator badge that stopped a phaser blast on Vega III.

The Klingon d'k tahg dagger given to him by Gra'harg when he visited Qo'nos. The dented bar of gold-pressed latinum he used to knock out the Ferengi who was going to shoot Gra'harg in the back.

I wonder whats going on on Qo'nos now....

A collection of data crystals holding a backup copy of his private files, plus a copy of the latest hologame, DOOM XXXIIV, 'Hell on Vulcan'.

A row of rare printed books from Earth.

Most of the hand from his previous artificial arm.

A 2200's style handheld communicator, still in working order.

He reaches for a small wooden box, and places it on the table. Opening the box, he takes out a package wrapped in black silk. Unfolding the silk, he stares at his tarot cards for a minute, then wraps them back up again and places the box back on the shelf.

A holo of his entire family, including Alexander, taken just before he left for ch'Rihan.

I need a proper drink.

He opens the cupboard , takes out a bottle of Bajoran brandy from his considerable stock, and starts drinking..