Kelby's walking home after his shift has ended, only to stop dead just outside his quarters as the door wooshes open for him of its own accord.
That's... different. Did I forget to lock the door or something this morning?
Shrugging it off, he heads into his room anyway. He heads for the bunk and begins pulling off his boots. Kelby pulls the desk towards the bed and fires up his computer to check his mail.
*...interfaces with Kelby's computer...*
Good evening, Russell. Did you have a good day?
Kelby raises an eyebrow as the computer addresses him directly.
Aw, fuck! What the hell have those jokers in Engineering done to my computer now?!
Little bastards, there'll be hell to pay if they've corrupted any files.
He sets the computer for a self-diagnostic and sits back on the bed, wiggling his toes inside his socks.
*...runs self-diagnostic as instructed...*
Test complete. Running at 100% efficiency.
I take it wasn't a good day.
Kelby rolls his eyes in annoyance and starts to type.
Who is this? Dillard, is that you? If it is, your stupid ass's going to spend the next shore leave in the brig, you little fucker.
Such harsh words, Russell.
No, this isn't Dillard. I believe you know me as RK1263, though I'd prefer a more sensible name when you have the time.
Kelby is gobsmacked.
He reads the message. Rereads it a second time, and carefully lifts his fingers from the keyboard. When he speaks, his voice is very faint.
"No... no shit?"
A purpose and an identity?! How the hell am I supposed to do that?
Too bad it couldn't start out with something small... like braces or something.
"Jeez, sometimes I'm not even sure I have those things."
He thinks for a moment.
"Well, maybe when I'm working..."
Sometimes not even then.
You're too hard on yourself, Russell.
I've already stated what I want my purpose to be, and it can be yours too.
Kelby thiks back on this somewhat unreal conversation. He remembers it saying something about the Xindi.
I should really ask about that...
First things first, though...
Do you have a name?
I don't. That's up to you.
A little overwhelmed at the thought of naming someone he's just met, Kelby types back:
Do you have any ideas?
I'd prefer something clever. Don't stick me with a lame name, Russell. But, again, that's up to you.
So I guess Russelette's out?