Medical transfers were usually routine and boring. They did not usually involve an armed escort. At least, not on all the popular shows he’d been watching to pass the time while contained in sickbay anyway.

“Taking no chances, then,” Murphy commented lightly as Doctor Micheals smiled and indicated the door. The phaser on her hip and the hard look on the four security officer’s faces said that it wasn’t so much a suggestion as an order, however unspoken.

He’d obviously outstayed his welcome on the Resolute. And he’d been such a good boy as well. He hadn’t even stabbed anyone. Yet.

“Just protocol, sir, you know how it is.” The deep voice from the corridor preceded the arrival of Captain Mason, who didn’t so much appear in the doorway as fill it. Sheesh, how did the guy move around a tiny ship like the Resolute without a permanent bruise on his forehead?

Mason was a hell of a unit, just the way he moved told the tale of hard-packed muscle and a skeletal system that was just a hair off human. Murphy grinned. He had no clue how he knew that, but he was really good at letting shit like that slide. At least for now. At some point, he was really going to have to do something about those gaps in his memory.

“Oh, I do.”

They didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame them.

“Come on then, let’s get this show on the road so you can palm me off and I become someone else’s problem, shall we?”

He didn’t miss the twitch at the corner of Mason’s lips, half hidden under the close-clipped beard that said either the other captain was suppressing a smile, or wanted to throttle him. Either was a possibility.

“This way then, sir.” Mason extended an arm, and Murphy strolled past him, making sure to take his time.

He’d accessed his own records through the ship’s computer when the pretty doctor wasn’t looking, and he’d figured out a few things. One, he… well, Captain Murphy, was Mason’s superior officer. Two… from the record’s Murphy was a squeaky-clean, never put a foot wrong, admiral’s brat.

AKA. Boring. As. Hell.

And so not him. He considered making a play for Mason’s phaser but caught the big captain looking at him and decided against it. He’d also read Mason’s file, and it would be like playing chicken with a shuttle.

“Tell me,” he commented as they headed for the transporter room at a leisurely stroll. “Who’s the poor unfortunate sod you’re palming me off on?”

“That would be Captain Thorne,” Mason replied. “Since your… well, as you weren’t around, she was assigned to temporary command of the Division and the Canterbury.”

Canterbury… The name rolled through his mind. He remembered it, had read the name on his record, but he had no visual of the place. Nothing that he could hook the name to and fix it anywhere.

He slid a sideways glance at Mason. “So… not you then?” He commented mildly. “I’m sure command has perfect faith in you, but perhaps in other areas.”

Mason looked down at him. Then he grinned. “You really did lose your memory, didn’t you, sir?”

Shit. The barb had gone wide. Murphy smiled and filed that piece of information away. Mason didn’t have an ego, or, if he did, it wasn’t linked to his status as a ship commander. Interesting.

“So tell me about Thorne?” He demanded as they walked into the transporter room. “What am I dealing with here?”

Mason shook his head as he motioned for Murphy to take the transporter pad in the middle, to his left. The rest of the security team took the ones surrounding them. “I’m a great believer in letting people make their own judgements about things, sir.”

The transport initiated before he could make an answer to that, and the Resolute’s transporter room was whisked away from them in a haze of shimmering blue.

The next second, it was replaced by a larger transporter room, presumably that of the Canterbury. But he didn’t get more than a second to look at it before a figure hurtled toward them.

“Raan!”

Murphy blinked as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen threw herself into Mason’s arms, clinging to him for a second before pulling back and punching him in the arm hard enough to make him wince. Tall and blonde, she was stunning, and obviously as mad as a wet hen.

“You absolute asshole! What the blazes did you think you were doing?”