<<USS Malinche>>
<Sickbay, 1135, Day 3>
Brad was at work going through the latest medical updates when the sickbay doors had opened. He had already sent his other two crew memebers home for the day, after all they may need the rest as far as Mr. Marcus was concerned...given the fact a battle drill was conducted at 3am.
Brad stood as the strat ops chief entered his office.
"Ah, so there you are...that only makes you a few days late then."
"Doctor...."
Brad held up his hand, indicating that he didn't really want to hear it. It seemed that the fleet was full of officers that didn't want to admit at they might be GASP human and need rest. It wasn't an effect that was limited to just Marcus either.
"In all honetsy Lt. Marcus, I really don't care what the excuse was. As long as you are on this ship then your health is my responsiblility. Next time you will report as ordered or I'll have security drag you down to sickbay, do I make myself clear?"
Marcus nodded, although the man's face was hard to read. Brad nodded as well, gesturing out of his office and toward one of the biobeds. Marcus followed him out and then hopped up on the one taht he had indicated.
"Any headaches or anything?" Brad asked, beginning his scan.
"No."
"Blurred visison, hearing loss, dizziness?"
"No."
Brad checked the readouts in his tricorder, noting that they were not exactly what he wanted them to be. Now was the part that was going to make Marcus unhappy.
"You're blood pressure is sky high, I'm also showing signs of dehydration," Brad put the tricorder down, looking Marcus in the eye. "I won't sugarcoat this for you, you need to slow it down. You're under a lot of stress, a lot more then you need to be. You're in danger of causing massive damage to the tissue that was around the implant."
"So, what do you suggest? Is there anything that you can give me?"
"My advice. First off, you need to sleep at least 9 hours a night for the next week or two, at least until your body recovers. Secondly, no more and I REPEAT no more undue stress, like this battle drill you had. Take care of yourself, drink more fluids. Do you ahve any questions?
OFF: Tag Marcus!
_________________
Lieutenant Commander Brad Walker
Chief Medical Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
Future Horizons
Moderators: Tournneau, Korath, Kersare
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
<<USS Malinche>>
<Engineering, 1845, Day 3>
Jadan was back in engineering, looking over the various reports submitted by Nol. He wasn't to happy with the way things were handled this morning, he needed to have a talk with Marcus about that. Instead, however he dismissed nearly his entire engineering staff with the rest of the evening off.
After all he was a former Borg drone and a Maran Knight, he could go days without sleep and not let it affect him. He had just come from the holodeck where he had spent a good deal of his afternoon training. Engineering was proving to be far less entertaining then he thought.
Adam had done a good job of making sure the ship was in beyond perfect condition, something that was more then easy to maintain. Maybe accepting this post was a mistake; he hated to admit to himself that maybe he was simply just a tactical grunt and nothing more. This engineer's skin was not something that he was wearing well.
"And to think that you used to run drills like that every day on the Soulwolf," Nevin (NPC) said, poking his head in the office.
"Not like that," Jadan corrected.
"Where is everyone?"
"Not here, I sent them home...there really wasn't much else to do."
"What do you mean? I'm sure there is some system that needs tweaking or something like that."
"No," Jadan smiled. "We're operating at actually 15% above peak projected performance in nearly every area. There really isn't anything else that could be done at the moment."
"You still miss tactical and security don't you?" Nevin asked, crossing his well muscled arms.
"I hate admit it...but yes. Engineering seems so, well...routine compared to my old job. I am beginning to think that telling Kersare I would accept this position was a mistake."
OFF: Just some character drama:-)
_________________
Lieutenant Jadan
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
<Engineering, 1845, Day 3>
Jadan was back in engineering, looking over the various reports submitted by Nol. He wasn't to happy with the way things were handled this morning, he needed to have a talk with Marcus about that. Instead, however he dismissed nearly his entire engineering staff with the rest of the evening off.
After all he was a former Borg drone and a Maran Knight, he could go days without sleep and not let it affect him. He had just come from the holodeck where he had spent a good deal of his afternoon training. Engineering was proving to be far less entertaining then he thought.
Adam had done a good job of making sure the ship was in beyond perfect condition, something that was more then easy to maintain. Maybe accepting this post was a mistake; he hated to admit to himself that maybe he was simply just a tactical grunt and nothing more. This engineer's skin was not something that he was wearing well.
"And to think that you used to run drills like that every day on the Soulwolf," Nevin (NPC) said, poking his head in the office.
"Not like that," Jadan corrected.
"Where is everyone?"
"Not here, I sent them home...there really wasn't much else to do."
"What do you mean? I'm sure there is some system that needs tweaking or something like that."
"No," Jadan smiled. "We're operating at actually 15% above peak projected performance in nearly every area. There really isn't anything else that could be done at the moment."
"You still miss tactical and security don't you?" Nevin asked, crossing his well muscled arms.
"I hate admit it...but yes. Engineering seems so, well...routine compared to my old job. I am beginning to think that telling Kersare I would accept this position was a mistake."
OFF: Just some character drama:-)
_________________
Lieutenant Jadan
Chief Engineering Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
<<USS Malinche>>
<Bridge, 1850, Day 3>
Mason for one was glad the MVAM was over, sometimes drills can be a bit unerving at best. The bridge went from blue alert to normal. Some of the new crewman picked up from when the ship was docked were a bit shaken up even though this was only a drill.
The ship was still away's from Celtron V, Isabel was in her ready room ready the MVAM reports. Out of all the standard drills conducted aboard starships, the MVAM gave her more paper work than usual. The door chime sounded at first she didn't notice it until Mason just knocked on the door the old fashion way.
Isabel knew that could only be one person and smiled. She tapped on her console to let Mason in. Her desk was a mess, Hunt helped clean some of it up and grabbed a padd.
"Busy are we?" he said hoping to get a smile out of his Captain.
"Yeah, so what can I do for you Mason?"
"We have sometime before we reach Celtron V and I thought you might want some help with these reports and after that perhaps a game of strategima."
There was a name she hadn't heard in while, no one really played it since the Federation/Dominion War. Isabel had a facination with the game ever since it first came out and was quite good at it. During her academy years she practically beat anyone who came up against her.
"Maybe in a bit, these reports seem like there is no end to them. What's our status?"
"We are still on course for Celtron V, ship is fully operational. We received a message from operations command. They sent us a new layout for the helm and tactical stations. From what i saw its quite impressive and more advanced than what we have now.
"Im sure Cheetara would be pleased. The tactical station has been sluggish as of late. See to it that she gets a copy of it right away and tell her to get to work on putting it onlne before we reach Celtron V."
Mason grabbed an empty padd and sent the file to Cheetara. An hour passed by and both were finally done reading and compiling a final report to command about the MVAM drill.
"Now, what do say to that game eh?" said Mason.
OFF: Tag Kersare
<Bridge, 1850, Day 3>
Mason for one was glad the MVAM was over, sometimes drills can be a bit unerving at best. The bridge went from blue alert to normal. Some of the new crewman picked up from when the ship was docked were a bit shaken up even though this was only a drill.
The ship was still away's from Celtron V, Isabel was in her ready room ready the MVAM reports. Out of all the standard drills conducted aboard starships, the MVAM gave her more paper work than usual. The door chime sounded at first she didn't notice it until Mason just knocked on the door the old fashion way.
Isabel knew that could only be one person and smiled. She tapped on her console to let Mason in. Her desk was a mess, Hunt helped clean some of it up and grabbed a padd.
"Busy are we?" he said hoping to get a smile out of his Captain.
"Yeah, so what can I do for you Mason?"
"We have sometime before we reach Celtron V and I thought you might want some help with these reports and after that perhaps a game of strategima."
There was a name she hadn't heard in while, no one really played it since the Federation/Dominion War. Isabel had a facination with the game ever since it first came out and was quite good at it. During her academy years she practically beat anyone who came up against her.
"Maybe in a bit, these reports seem like there is no end to them. What's our status?"
"We are still on course for Celtron V, ship is fully operational. We received a message from operations command. They sent us a new layout for the helm and tactical stations. From what i saw its quite impressive and more advanced than what we have now.
"Im sure Cheetara would be pleased. The tactical station has been sluggish as of late. See to it that she gets a copy of it right away and tell her to get to work on putting it onlne before we reach Celtron V."
Mason grabbed an empty padd and sent the file to Cheetara. An hour passed by and both were finally done reading and compiling a final report to command about the MVAM drill.
"Now, what do say to that game eh?" said Mason.
OFF: Tag Kersare
Commander Mason Hunt
First Officer
USS Malinche NCC 38897-B
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
ON:
== USS Malinche, Sickbay ==
== 1140 Hours, Day 3 ==
Walker: My advice. First off, you need to sleep at least 9 hours a night for the next week or two, at least until your body recovers. Secondly, no more and I REPEAT no more undue stress, like this battle drill you had. Take care of yourself, drink more fluids. Do you ahve any questions?
Marcus: Doc, this is the 24th century, there has to be something you can give me. I have a lot of work to do before we arrive at Celtron V.
Walker: *shaking his head* The best thing is sleep and fluids. I don't care how much work you have to do, if you don't get sleep and take it easy, you'll be giving me more work and making sure you don't get yours done. Nine hours a night for the next 10 days and if I hear otherwise, I will have you relieved of duty.
Marcus: *reluctantly* Will do.
Walker: If I were you, I'd take a little holodeck time this afternoon.
Marcus nodded and pushed himself off the biobed, straightening his uniform and leaving Sickbay.
He always hated how that place smelled ... gave him the chills. Maybe it was his experience before their last mission; either way, he hoped he wouldn't have to spend too much time there, the less the better. Jonathan roamed the corridors, mindful of Dr. Walker's warning and knowing that he would most likely check with his staff regularly.
A lot of things weighed on Jonathan's mind: the inquiry, his exchange with Ragna before the drill, seeing Captain Tullan on Earth during the inquiry. When he had been aboard the Emory, he had created a program just for this type of mood, and on top of it all, he hadn't spent leisure time in a holodeck for quite some time. Marcus stepped into the turbolift and rode it several decks down and meandered through the corridors until he reached holodeck 2.
Marcus: *tapping panel* Computer, begin program Marcus 001265.
Computer: Program initiated, enter when ready.
Jonathan took a deep breath before stepping forward through the opening doors. He wasn't aboard the Malinche anymore, and instead, was at a small cafe in downtown San Francisco. When he'd been on Earth days earlier, he'd purposely avoided this place, but it was no use now, he needed it.
Michelle (NPC): There you are.
Jonathan turned to see Michelle Adams, the first woman who'd actually left him speechless. Her straight blond hair looked like silk and fell around her shoulders, framing two sparkling sapphire eyes. Hers was a face he could look at and never get tired of. A smile slid across his face and he extended his hand to her. Marcus could feel the shocks of excitement run up and down his arm when she touched him.
Marcus: I've missed you.
Michelle: *smiling* I know.
Jonathan stepped in closer to her and looked into her eyes. Deep down, he didn't want to believe this was just a hologram, deep down, he wanted to believe she was real, to believe she was still alive. He pushed the thought out of his mind and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
Michelle: Are you okay?
Marcus: I am now.
OFF
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
== USS Malinche, Sickbay ==
== 1140 Hours, Day 3 ==
Walker: My advice. First off, you need to sleep at least 9 hours a night for the next week or two, at least until your body recovers. Secondly, no more and I REPEAT no more undue stress, like this battle drill you had. Take care of yourself, drink more fluids. Do you ahve any questions?
Marcus: Doc, this is the 24th century, there has to be something you can give me. I have a lot of work to do before we arrive at Celtron V.
Walker: *shaking his head* The best thing is sleep and fluids. I don't care how much work you have to do, if you don't get sleep and take it easy, you'll be giving me more work and making sure you don't get yours done. Nine hours a night for the next 10 days and if I hear otherwise, I will have you relieved of duty.
Marcus: *reluctantly* Will do.
Walker: If I were you, I'd take a little holodeck time this afternoon.
Marcus nodded and pushed himself off the biobed, straightening his uniform and leaving Sickbay.
He always hated how that place smelled ... gave him the chills. Maybe it was his experience before their last mission; either way, he hoped he wouldn't have to spend too much time there, the less the better. Jonathan roamed the corridors, mindful of Dr. Walker's warning and knowing that he would most likely check with his staff regularly.
A lot of things weighed on Jonathan's mind: the inquiry, his exchange with Ragna before the drill, seeing Captain Tullan on Earth during the inquiry. When he had been aboard the Emory, he had created a program just for this type of mood, and on top of it all, he hadn't spent leisure time in a holodeck for quite some time. Marcus stepped into the turbolift and rode it several decks down and meandered through the corridors until he reached holodeck 2.
Marcus: *tapping panel* Computer, begin program Marcus 001265.
Computer: Program initiated, enter when ready.
Jonathan took a deep breath before stepping forward through the opening doors. He wasn't aboard the Malinche anymore, and instead, was at a small cafe in downtown San Francisco. When he'd been on Earth days earlier, he'd purposely avoided this place, but it was no use now, he needed it.
Michelle (NPC): There you are.
Jonathan turned to see Michelle Adams, the first woman who'd actually left him speechless. Her straight blond hair looked like silk and fell around her shoulders, framing two sparkling sapphire eyes. Hers was a face he could look at and never get tired of. A smile slid across his face and he extended his hand to her. Marcus could feel the shocks of excitement run up and down his arm when she touched him.
Marcus: I've missed you.
Michelle: *smiling* I know.
Jonathan stepped in closer to her and looked into her eyes. Deep down, he didn't want to believe this was just a hologram, deep down, he wanted to believe she was real, to believe she was still alive. He pushed the thought out of his mind and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
Michelle: Are you okay?
Marcus: I am now.
OFF
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
<<USS Malinche>>
<<Mess Hall, 1900, day 3>>
Mark Grayson II looked outside the mess hall's windows. The stars never looked so appealing. Of course, he couldn't say that about his day. He spent 10 hours straight going over intelingence files and reports about all kind of subject.
It was his job to be updated with news and disasters. So far, nothing bad had happened and the universe as Mark knew it was intact. He sipped his drink and looked around the Mess Hall. Things were quiet. The long voyage to Celtron was obviously starting to affect some of the crew, but, overall, most of them were cheerful and relaxed.
"They wouldn't that relaxed when Malinche arrive at her destination", thought him, pessismist.
He was alone at his table, something that he was used to. Mike Derrin (NPC) was suppose to meet him there, but, Mark suspected Mike was visiting some female crew quarters. Mark was pretty sure was one of the nurses from sickbay.
"Oh, well. Mike is the smart one", thought him envious. He actually missed having a relationship, but, at that point, he didn't see many women willing to date a paranoid intel officer.
Love and other feelings had been put aside when the Dominon War came, and after it ended, Mark didn't quite know how to introduce that part again in his life.
He put that thoughts aside. It wasn't the time for it. Deep down, though, he would like to talk to someone. But that didn't looked promising.
OFF: Tag. Someone would like to talk with the poor intel officer?
<<Mess Hall, 1900, day 3>>
Mark Grayson II looked outside the mess hall's windows. The stars never looked so appealing. Of course, he couldn't say that about his day. He spent 10 hours straight going over intelingence files and reports about all kind of subject.
It was his job to be updated with news and disasters. So far, nothing bad had happened and the universe as Mark knew it was intact. He sipped his drink and looked around the Mess Hall. Things were quiet. The long voyage to Celtron was obviously starting to affect some of the crew, but, overall, most of them were cheerful and relaxed.
"They wouldn't that relaxed when Malinche arrive at her destination", thought him, pessismist.
He was alone at his table, something that he was used to. Mike Derrin (NPC) was suppose to meet him there, but, Mark suspected Mike was visiting some female crew quarters. Mark was pretty sure was one of the nurses from sickbay.
"Oh, well. Mike is the smart one", thought him envious. He actually missed having a relationship, but, at that point, he didn't see many women willing to date a paranoid intel officer.
Love and other feelings had been put aside when the Dominon War came, and after it ended, Mark didn't quite know how to introduce that part again in his life.
He put that thoughts aside. It wasn't the time for it. Deep down, though, he would like to talk to someone. But that didn't looked promising.
OFF: Tag. Someone would like to talk with the poor intel officer?
Lieutenant Mark Grayson II
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
"O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands." - Sun Tzu
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
ON:
== Mess Hall ==
== 1915 Hours, Day 3 ==
Jonathan meandered into the mess hall after a depressing afternoon. With so much on his mind, he'd thought that running the program he'd created with his old flame, Michelle, would help him and give him someone to talk to, but it'd done quite the opposite and only made him more upset. On top of all of that, Dr. Walker was watching him like a hawk. Fortunately, the 4-hour nap that he'd just woken up from would help his case with the CMO. He stopped at the replicator first and ordered a cup of coffee before turning to see who was here, noting almost immediately a silhouette he could never forget: Mark Grayson. Marcus took a deep breath and moved through the arrangement of tables toward the one that Mark was sitting at.
Marcus: *coming from behind* This seat taken?
Grayson: No, have a seat.
Jonathan turned the chair to face the windows and the stars that streaked past the windows. He and Grayson sat in silence for several moments while Marcus sipped his coffee. They both knew the thing on the front of their minds was the inquiry, but neither wanted to be the first to say something about it. Whatever had happened, their careers were intact, but how, neither of them knew. Marcus didn't want to talk about it for fear that something would slip about the man who had visited him just hours after the inquiry had ended. He was still trying to piece everything together, but doubtless, the man had been instrumental in saving his career.
Grayson: I don't take nearly enough time to do this.
Marcus: Funny how that happens. Right outta the Academy and you can't even believe what it looks like and you think about how much time you could spend just watching the stars go by, and then one day you realize that you haven't looked at them in months and it really makes you wonder why you're out here, why you're still doing it.
Silence fell over the two men again as they watched the stars fly past. People's conversations around them seemed to fall away and it felt like it was only the two of them and the stars; two friends, a term Marcus could finally attribute to Mark after all they'd been through.
Grayson: I'm telling you what, Jon, every fiber of my being doesn't want to think about it, but it's the only thing I can think about. I wake up at night to the sound of that gavel falling and it scares me to death because I'm afraid that when I wake up, it'll all be a dream and we'll be in some prison somewhere serving time for treason.
Marcus: I can't get her face out of my mind.
Grayson: *starting to laugh* And the look on her face when she had to give the sentence. I'll never forget that look for as long as I live.
Marcus: *sighing after laughing* We should have hung for that, so what happened? Why are we *really* walking free?
OFF
It seems I've done this a lot lately ... tag Grayson!
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
== Mess Hall ==
== 1915 Hours, Day 3 ==
Jonathan meandered into the mess hall after a depressing afternoon. With so much on his mind, he'd thought that running the program he'd created with his old flame, Michelle, would help him and give him someone to talk to, but it'd done quite the opposite and only made him more upset. On top of all of that, Dr. Walker was watching him like a hawk. Fortunately, the 4-hour nap that he'd just woken up from would help his case with the CMO. He stopped at the replicator first and ordered a cup of coffee before turning to see who was here, noting almost immediately a silhouette he could never forget: Mark Grayson. Marcus took a deep breath and moved through the arrangement of tables toward the one that Mark was sitting at.
Marcus: *coming from behind* This seat taken?
Grayson: No, have a seat.
Jonathan turned the chair to face the windows and the stars that streaked past the windows. He and Grayson sat in silence for several moments while Marcus sipped his coffee. They both knew the thing on the front of their minds was the inquiry, but neither wanted to be the first to say something about it. Whatever had happened, their careers were intact, but how, neither of them knew. Marcus didn't want to talk about it for fear that something would slip about the man who had visited him just hours after the inquiry had ended. He was still trying to piece everything together, but doubtless, the man had been instrumental in saving his career.
Grayson: I don't take nearly enough time to do this.
Marcus: Funny how that happens. Right outta the Academy and you can't even believe what it looks like and you think about how much time you could spend just watching the stars go by, and then one day you realize that you haven't looked at them in months and it really makes you wonder why you're out here, why you're still doing it.
Silence fell over the two men again as they watched the stars fly past. People's conversations around them seemed to fall away and it felt like it was only the two of them and the stars; two friends, a term Marcus could finally attribute to Mark after all they'd been through.
Grayson: I'm telling you what, Jon, every fiber of my being doesn't want to think about it, but it's the only thing I can think about. I wake up at night to the sound of that gavel falling and it scares me to death because I'm afraid that when I wake up, it'll all be a dream and we'll be in some prison somewhere serving time for treason.
Marcus: I can't get her face out of my mind.
Grayson: *starting to laugh* And the look on her face when she had to give the sentence. I'll never forget that look for as long as I live.
Marcus: *sighing after laughing* We should have hung for that, so what happened? Why are we *really* walking free?
OFF
It seems I've done this a lot lately ... tag Grayson!
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
<<USS Malinche>>
<<Mess Hall, 1925, day 3>>
Marcus: *sighing after laughing* We should have hung for that, so what happened? Why are we *really* walking free?
Mark looked away from Marcus. There was no better way to put it, so he decided just to say it.
Grayson: Someone else thought we could make a difference. I know my father is not involved. Basically, we owe our careers to someone else... And that doesn't make me feel better. I hate mysteries.
Marcus: There's something else bothering you, Mark. What is it?
Mark tried to disguise his surprise. Suddenly everybody was a telepath. He decided not tell Marcus about the man who had contacted him after the enquiry. It was time for a little deception. A honest one, if such thing existed.
Grayson: Damn, I must be getting old. I was trying to disguise my own discomfort of working with Counselor Navdante.
Marcus: *barking a laugh* What's the problem with the Counselor Navdante? She looks competent and efficient.
Grayson: She's a freaking telepath! I don't trust telepaths. When I was working undercover, during the Dominion War, I found a group of telepaths that actually killed people using their power. It was something horrible. Of course, after that, I mistrust most telepaths. At the very least, they can invade your mind and disclosure all your secrets.
Marcus sipped his coffee, then grinned.
Marcus: I?m sure you listened this before.... But, you're paranoid, Mark. Telepaths, the good ones, never invade a mind without consent. Navdante is too good to do something like that.
Mark smiled, trying to find words to explain his dislikes of telepaths, but gave up. There's not a motive to dislike Navdante.
Grayson: You're right, Jon. I spent too much time thinking about consipiracies. That telepaths gang didn't help me improve my opinion of them.
Marcus: Actually, what happened with these telepaths?
Mark smiled disappeared. He sipped his drink.
Grayson: There's no softer way to put it. I killed them. I had to. Self defense.
OFF: Tag Marcus. Just some char development. Have fun.
<<Mess Hall, 1925, day 3>>
Marcus: *sighing after laughing* We should have hung for that, so what happened? Why are we *really* walking free?
Mark looked away from Marcus. There was no better way to put it, so he decided just to say it.
Grayson: Someone else thought we could make a difference. I know my father is not involved. Basically, we owe our careers to someone else... And that doesn't make me feel better. I hate mysteries.
Marcus: There's something else bothering you, Mark. What is it?
Mark tried to disguise his surprise. Suddenly everybody was a telepath. He decided not tell Marcus about the man who had contacted him after the enquiry. It was time for a little deception. A honest one, if such thing existed.
Grayson: Damn, I must be getting old. I was trying to disguise my own discomfort of working with Counselor Navdante.
Marcus: *barking a laugh* What's the problem with the Counselor Navdante? She looks competent and efficient.
Grayson: She's a freaking telepath! I don't trust telepaths. When I was working undercover, during the Dominion War, I found a group of telepaths that actually killed people using their power. It was something horrible. Of course, after that, I mistrust most telepaths. At the very least, they can invade your mind and disclosure all your secrets.
Marcus sipped his coffee, then grinned.
Marcus: I?m sure you listened this before.... But, you're paranoid, Mark. Telepaths, the good ones, never invade a mind without consent. Navdante is too good to do something like that.
Mark smiled, trying to find words to explain his dislikes of telepaths, but gave up. There's not a motive to dislike Navdante.
Grayson: You're right, Jon. I spent too much time thinking about consipiracies. That telepaths gang didn't help me improve my opinion of them.
Marcus: Actually, what happened with these telepaths?
Mark smiled disappeared. He sipped his drink.
Grayson: There's no softer way to put it. I killed them. I had to. Self defense.
OFF: Tag Marcus. Just some char development. Have fun.
Lieutenant Mark Grayson II
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
"O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands." - Sun Tzu
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Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
ON:
== Mess Hall ==
== 1930 Hours, Day 3 ==
Even though Jonathan was expecting the answer and it shouldn't have surprised him, it did, but he did his best to hide it by taking another sip of his coffee. Another silence fell over the men, but this time, their thoughts weren't on the inquiry or Marcus' mysterious visitor, this time, they were on the war. They'd all lost loved ones and close friends during the war, especially Marcus. He fell into a somewhat hypnotic state watching the stars, as did Grayson until Jonathan finally broke the silence.
Marcus: *staring blankly into space* When the war broke out, the Emory was near the Cardassian border. One minute we were studying gaseous anamolies, the next I was being thrown out of my chair in the Captain's Ready Room.
Jonathan recalled the story with a stoic gaze, one that refused to let any emotion into the retelling of the story. Only moments after coming under attack and racing to the bridge, Captain Tullan and Marcus found Jem'Hadar soldiers beaming aboard and attacking them.
Marcus: We fought them off, but our Security officer was killed in the fight. The captain told me to take security teams and get the ship back. It wasn't an easy fight, but deck by deck we took back the Emory. When we were finally secure, I went look for Michelle; no one knew where
she was, then one junior officer said she'd been killed. *clenching his teeth together* From that day forward, I vowed to make those animals pay for what they had done, what they had taken from me.
Grayson: Did you?
Marcus: As many times as I could. I went looking for fights with the Jem'Hadar. And if I saw one today, friend or foe, I'd kill him without a second thought.
Grayson: *cautiously* Have you ever talked to someone about this?
Marcus: *breaking from his hypnotic state* I went through standard Starfleet post-war psychological review like everyone else. I couldn't talk about Michelle's death, it was too hard; it still is.
Grayson: Then why stay in Starfleet? Why not get away from it?
Marcus: Starfleet, my job, the Emory, they were the only things that kept me going; I couldn't give that up. Even though Michelle had died on that ship, it was still my home. When I got my orders to transfer here, I was scared because I knew I'd finally have to face her death.
The awkward silence that had become so common during their conversation returned.
Marcus: What about you? You had it pretty rough, why stay with intel, why stick around?
OFF
Tag: Grayson
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
== Mess Hall ==
== 1930 Hours, Day 3 ==
Even though Jonathan was expecting the answer and it shouldn't have surprised him, it did, but he did his best to hide it by taking another sip of his coffee. Another silence fell over the men, but this time, their thoughts weren't on the inquiry or Marcus' mysterious visitor, this time, they were on the war. They'd all lost loved ones and close friends during the war, especially Marcus. He fell into a somewhat hypnotic state watching the stars, as did Grayson until Jonathan finally broke the silence.
Marcus: *staring blankly into space* When the war broke out, the Emory was near the Cardassian border. One minute we were studying gaseous anamolies, the next I was being thrown out of my chair in the Captain's Ready Room.
Jonathan recalled the story with a stoic gaze, one that refused to let any emotion into the retelling of the story. Only moments after coming under attack and racing to the bridge, Captain Tullan and Marcus found Jem'Hadar soldiers beaming aboard and attacking them.
Marcus: We fought them off, but our Security officer was killed in the fight. The captain told me to take security teams and get the ship back. It wasn't an easy fight, but deck by deck we took back the Emory. When we were finally secure, I went look for Michelle; no one knew where
she was, then one junior officer said she'd been killed. *clenching his teeth together* From that day forward, I vowed to make those animals pay for what they had done, what they had taken from me.
Grayson: Did you?
Marcus: As many times as I could. I went looking for fights with the Jem'Hadar. And if I saw one today, friend or foe, I'd kill him without a second thought.
Grayson: *cautiously* Have you ever talked to someone about this?
Marcus: *breaking from his hypnotic state* I went through standard Starfleet post-war psychological review like everyone else. I couldn't talk about Michelle's death, it was too hard; it still is.
Grayson: Then why stay in Starfleet? Why not get away from it?
Marcus: Starfleet, my job, the Emory, they were the only things that kept me going; I couldn't give that up. Even though Michelle had died on that ship, it was still my home. When I got my orders to transfer here, I was scared because I knew I'd finally have to face her death.
The awkward silence that had become so common during their conversation returned.
Marcus: What about you? You had it pretty rough, why stay with intel, why stick around?
OFF
Tag: Grayson
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
<<USS Malinche>>
<<Mess Hall, 1935, Day 3>>
Marcus: What about you? You had it pretty rough, why stay with intel, why stick around?
Mark looked at his glass. Memories long buried appeared in his mind. He was ready to lie to Marcus, to give some baloney about honor and duty, but, something inside told him to trust JJ.
Grayson: *looking back to Marcus* Several years back, I went deep undercover in a mission to Cardassia. I even looked like a freaking cardassian. I had my partner, Brul Unger. He' still very much alive, and you would like him. But he's not the reason I'm telling this.
He sipped his drink. Marcus kept listening.
Grayson: During the mission, I... I had to kill a cardassian woman. It was something necessary to maintain the anti-dominion resistence. I didn't give her a chance. Being a spy is not glamourous as you think. It's a dirty job. After that, I really considered abandoning everything and go fishing somewhere.
Marcus: But you're still here...
Mark smiled. Yes, he kept working. He kept doing his job.
Grayson: Yes, I still here... And you know why? Because, later, when I was about to resign my comission, I heard that resistence had overthrowed the goverment. Of course, they had help from Klingons and Federation, but, it was my work that made them do it. The reason I stay here it's because I know I can make a difference. As my choice of career, I decided to get out of undercover missions. Sometimes you start lose the sense of what is reality what is not. That's why I chose to serve in starship. To keep making a difference. I just don't want to have blood on my hands anymore.
Marcus nodded. It appeared him and Mark had a lot in common. They stayed silent for several minutes. Mark caught another drink.
Grayson: *jokingly* Oh, by the way, Jon... Next time you decide to do a MVAM drill at 3 AM, remind me to kill you first.
Both men laughed over that.
Mark smiled to himself. He had found friend, despite all his resistences.
OFF: Tag Marcus, Tag crew
<<Mess Hall, 1935, Day 3>>
Marcus: What about you? You had it pretty rough, why stay with intel, why stick around?
Mark looked at his glass. Memories long buried appeared in his mind. He was ready to lie to Marcus, to give some baloney about honor and duty, but, something inside told him to trust JJ.
Grayson: *looking back to Marcus* Several years back, I went deep undercover in a mission to Cardassia. I even looked like a freaking cardassian. I had my partner, Brul Unger. He' still very much alive, and you would like him. But he's not the reason I'm telling this.
He sipped his drink. Marcus kept listening.
Grayson: During the mission, I... I had to kill a cardassian woman. It was something necessary to maintain the anti-dominion resistence. I didn't give her a chance. Being a spy is not glamourous as you think. It's a dirty job. After that, I really considered abandoning everything and go fishing somewhere.
Marcus: But you're still here...
Mark smiled. Yes, he kept working. He kept doing his job.
Grayson: Yes, I still here... And you know why? Because, later, when I was about to resign my comission, I heard that resistence had overthrowed the goverment. Of course, they had help from Klingons and Federation, but, it was my work that made them do it. The reason I stay here it's because I know I can make a difference. As my choice of career, I decided to get out of undercover missions. Sometimes you start lose the sense of what is reality what is not. That's why I chose to serve in starship. To keep making a difference. I just don't want to have blood on my hands anymore.
Marcus nodded. It appeared him and Mark had a lot in common. They stayed silent for several minutes. Mark caught another drink.
Grayson: *jokingly* Oh, by the way, Jon... Next time you decide to do a MVAM drill at 3 AM, remind me to kill you first.
Both men laughed over that.
Mark smiled to himself. He had found friend, despite all his resistences.
OFF: Tag Marcus, Tag crew
Lieutenant Mark Grayson II
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
"O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands." - Sun Tzu
-
Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
ON:
== Mess Hall ==
== 2050 Hours, Day 3 ==
Marcus: *sipping his third cup of coffee* I remember one time on the Emory when Captain Tullan ran an emergency evacuation drill at 0200 and actually made everyone leave the ship in shuttlecraft and escape pods, then made the medical team go back onboard and do a radiation sweep drill right after. I think I was stuffed in that escape pod for almost eight hours. I remember that being the first time that I actually wanted to kill my commanding officer.
Grayson: *laughing* Wow, I don't even think I would've gone.
Marcus: Captain Tullan was renowned for his punishment if you didn't attend a drill and deal with it like it was the real thing.
Grayson: I guess that's a little worse than an MVAM drill. But still, 0300?
Marcus: Hey, you never know. We *are* by the neutral zone, one never knows when you'll run into a bold Romulan.
Grayson: Stupid is more like it.
Both men turned their attention back to watching the stars race past the front of the ship. It felt good to be able to talk to someone, to laugh with someone, it was exactly what Jonathan needed right now. All the things he'd been dealing with were in the back of his mind and he could actually enjoy his time with Mark. He craned his neck to look at the cronometer on the far wall and was shocked to realize they'd been chatting for well over an hour.
Marcus: Is that time right? Computer, what's the time?
Computer: The time is 2050 hours.
Marcus: Wow, can you believe we've been here for over an hour?
Grayson: Time flies.
Marcus: *yawning* I should probably get going and get some sleep before Dr. Walker finds me and takes my commission away from me.
Grayson: I'll tell you what, you've gotta watch out for doctors, they're sneaky.
Marcus: You're telling me. Walker threatned to relieve me of duty if I didn't get nine hours of sleep of night for the next couple of weeks. Next he'll be putting a call into Starfleet Personnel to get my shoreleave time revoked.
Grayson: *shaking his head* And you're a department head no less. Never cross a doctor.
Marcus: I'll see ya in the morning, Mark.
Grayson: Night, Jon.
Jonathan stood and walked to the replicator, setting his cup in it and watching it disappear before turning and walking out the tall doors. As he made his way through the corridors, his mind no longer raced; it had been a good evening and his chance meeting with Mark had only reaffirmed their friendship. It was amazing what a disciplinary inquiry could do for that. Marcus stepped into his quarters and collapsed onto his bed, thinking about the day and everything he and Mark had talked about in the Mess Hall. His terminal chirped, indicating he had a message, but he knew exactly who it was: his enigmatic savior from after the inquiry; this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. He pushed himself off the bed and sat down in his chair before typing in his access code and watching the black screen get replaced by an image of the man who'd approached him after the inquiry.
Marcus: Somehow, I knew you'd be contacting me.
OFF
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
== Mess Hall ==
== 2050 Hours, Day 3 ==
Marcus: *sipping his third cup of coffee* I remember one time on the Emory when Captain Tullan ran an emergency evacuation drill at 0200 and actually made everyone leave the ship in shuttlecraft and escape pods, then made the medical team go back onboard and do a radiation sweep drill right after. I think I was stuffed in that escape pod for almost eight hours. I remember that being the first time that I actually wanted to kill my commanding officer.
Grayson: *laughing* Wow, I don't even think I would've gone.
Marcus: Captain Tullan was renowned for his punishment if you didn't attend a drill and deal with it like it was the real thing.
Grayson: I guess that's a little worse than an MVAM drill. But still, 0300?
Marcus: Hey, you never know. We *are* by the neutral zone, one never knows when you'll run into a bold Romulan.
Grayson: Stupid is more like it.
Both men turned their attention back to watching the stars race past the front of the ship. It felt good to be able to talk to someone, to laugh with someone, it was exactly what Jonathan needed right now. All the things he'd been dealing with were in the back of his mind and he could actually enjoy his time with Mark. He craned his neck to look at the cronometer on the far wall and was shocked to realize they'd been chatting for well over an hour.
Marcus: Is that time right? Computer, what's the time?
Computer: The time is 2050 hours.
Marcus: Wow, can you believe we've been here for over an hour?
Grayson: Time flies.
Marcus: *yawning* I should probably get going and get some sleep before Dr. Walker finds me and takes my commission away from me.
Grayson: I'll tell you what, you've gotta watch out for doctors, they're sneaky.
Marcus: You're telling me. Walker threatned to relieve me of duty if I didn't get nine hours of sleep of night for the next couple of weeks. Next he'll be putting a call into Starfleet Personnel to get my shoreleave time revoked.
Grayson: *shaking his head* And you're a department head no less. Never cross a doctor.
Marcus: I'll see ya in the morning, Mark.
Grayson: Night, Jon.
Jonathan stood and walked to the replicator, setting his cup in it and watching it disappear before turning and walking out the tall doors. As he made his way through the corridors, his mind no longer raced; it had been a good evening and his chance meeting with Mark had only reaffirmed their friendship. It was amazing what a disciplinary inquiry could do for that. Marcus stepped into his quarters and collapsed onto his bed, thinking about the day and everything he and Mark had talked about in the Mess Hall. His terminal chirped, indicating he had a message, but he knew exactly who it was: his enigmatic savior from after the inquiry; this was the last thing he wanted to deal with tonight. He pushed himself off the bed and sat down in his chair before typing in his access code and watching the black screen get replaced by an image of the man who'd approached him after the inquiry.
Marcus: Somehow, I knew you'd be contacting me.
OFF
_________________
Lieutenant J.G. Jonathan James Marcus
Chief Strategic Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B
-
Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
<Starbase 52, Ship Day 3, 2300>
With a sching of steel along the top of the scabbard, Starfleet Cadet P'ayanna drew her Daqtagh and raised it to the vertical, its hardened and sharpened tip only scant centimeters from her chin. On a good day, it was in place before the sound reached her ears, but today was not a good day. Today, she was a puppet of the Personnel Office, an assortment of worthless petaQ if she'd ever seen one.
She had grown tired of their ridiculous games. First, they removed her from USS Relentless without any notice and, soon after, decided to drop her onto USS Yorktown. Within one day, as she was making preparations for an underway, in fact, she was unexpectedly yanked back onto this cesspool of a station.
Her Daqtagh slid into the sheath with a clunk. With a flick of deft fingers, it snapped to the ready position for the five hundredth time. They said she could not become a Da'har master without an instructor. She was not interested in mere assumptions. Title or no, when she was able to mop a passageway with a 'recognized' Da'har master, she would be satisfied.
Returning her weapon to its sheath, she wondered how many enemies would receive a deathblow before even realizing that she'd drawn it. The answer was many, but not all. "jaghpu'ra' puj 'e' yIvoqbe'," her father had rightly taught her: do not trust in the weakness of your enemies. To do so would only earn her an inglorious death.
P'ayanna moved herself to the center of a ring of heavy punching bags, each of which was secured, top and bottom, with heavy chain. Many adjustments were required when a Klingon, or Vulcan, was training. Even with these changes, it was likely that she would break at least one from its mount. In fact, she started every session in the hopes that she would prove her strength by doing precisely that.
Taking a deep breath, she convinced herself that she was surrounded and let loose a flurry of kicks and punches that filled the training room with hard and soft whumps. Her personal goal was to be able to, without being armed, incapacitate three Jem'Hadar on the holodeck. It was a lofty goal, but one worthy of a Klingon warrior...
...P'ayanna worked well past the point of pain. Though her hands were calloused, they were not invincible. Still, she knew it was time to stop. Her hair was a tangled mass of sweat, her hands bruised and her eyebrow bloody from a forehead strike to a target, when she stopped. She tried to calm her breathing, forcing it to be shallow and rapid, but found that she was wearier than she'd planned on becoming.
While wiping down the equipment, she felt a burning pang in her right shoulder. It had mostly healed, but it occasionally protested heavy use. It was a weakness that an enemy might exploit, if she let them.
Stepping out of the training room, towel thrown over her neck, she allowed the cool, brisk air of the Promenade to cool her skin. Perhaps, today, she would learn of her new assignment and get off of this floating pile of veQ and onto a warship. Just perhaps...
OFF:
Notes:
Daqtagh is the traditional Klingon Dagger
P'ayanna's shoulder injury happened during her tour on USS Relentless
_________________
Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche
NCC-38897-B
With a sching of steel along the top of the scabbard, Starfleet Cadet P'ayanna drew her Daqtagh and raised it to the vertical, its hardened and sharpened tip only scant centimeters from her chin. On a good day, it was in place before the sound reached her ears, but today was not a good day. Today, she was a puppet of the Personnel Office, an assortment of worthless petaQ if she'd ever seen one.
She had grown tired of their ridiculous games. First, they removed her from USS Relentless without any notice and, soon after, decided to drop her onto USS Yorktown. Within one day, as she was making preparations for an underway, in fact, she was unexpectedly yanked back onto this cesspool of a station.
Her Daqtagh slid into the sheath with a clunk. With a flick of deft fingers, it snapped to the ready position for the five hundredth time. They said she could not become a Da'har master without an instructor. She was not interested in mere assumptions. Title or no, when she was able to mop a passageway with a 'recognized' Da'har master, she would be satisfied.
Returning her weapon to its sheath, she wondered how many enemies would receive a deathblow before even realizing that she'd drawn it. The answer was many, but not all. "jaghpu'ra' puj 'e' yIvoqbe'," her father had rightly taught her: do not trust in the weakness of your enemies. To do so would only earn her an inglorious death.
P'ayanna moved herself to the center of a ring of heavy punching bags, each of which was secured, top and bottom, with heavy chain. Many adjustments were required when a Klingon, or Vulcan, was training. Even with these changes, it was likely that she would break at least one from its mount. In fact, she started every session in the hopes that she would prove her strength by doing precisely that.
Taking a deep breath, she convinced herself that she was surrounded and let loose a flurry of kicks and punches that filled the training room with hard and soft whumps. Her personal goal was to be able to, without being armed, incapacitate three Jem'Hadar on the holodeck. It was a lofty goal, but one worthy of a Klingon warrior...
...P'ayanna worked well past the point of pain. Though her hands were calloused, they were not invincible. Still, she knew it was time to stop. Her hair was a tangled mass of sweat, her hands bruised and her eyebrow bloody from a forehead strike to a target, when she stopped. She tried to calm her breathing, forcing it to be shallow and rapid, but found that she was wearier than she'd planned on becoming.
While wiping down the equipment, she felt a burning pang in her right shoulder. It had mostly healed, but it occasionally protested heavy use. It was a weakness that an enemy might exploit, if she let them.
Stepping out of the training room, towel thrown over her neck, she allowed the cool, brisk air of the Promenade to cool her skin. Perhaps, today, she would learn of her new assignment and get off of this floating pile of veQ and onto a warship. Just perhaps...
OFF:
Notes:
Daqtagh is the traditional Klingon Dagger
P'ayanna's shoulder injury happened during her tour on USS Relentless
_________________
Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche
NCC-38897-B
<<Ready Room, 2000, Day 3>>
Isabel smiled at Mason, "Game sounds like a great idea Mason."
As she was about to stand up, Isabel heard the beep of an incoming message. She looked over at Mason apologetically, "Hopefully this won't take long."
"Not a problem. We can always play later; business comes first."
Isabel nodded, tapping buttons on her display. Interesting... "Well, it appears we'll have to slightly alter our course."
Mason looked at her, a little confused. "Alter course? Why? I thought they wanted us to get to Celtron V as soon as possible... The factions are at each others' throats as it is."
"I know. It seems that we're to pick up some supplies and a new crewmember at Starbase 52. Fourth year cadet P'ayanna. She'll be our Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer. Klingon."
"Another cadet? StarFleet is certainly giving us quite a few cadets in fairly important positions. And that will make P'ayanna the..second Klingon on the Malinche?"
Smiling at him reassuringly, Isabel stood up. "I'm sure they wouldn't be giving us the cadets if they didn't feel they would be able to perform their duties. At this point I'm more worried about getting to Celtron V before things get out of hand. I haven't heard anything more from our contact, which has me a little worried. Hopefully we'll find out more soon - I don't like going into a situation blind."
Mason nodded at his captain, "I don't like it either, but sometimes we don't get a choice. How long until we arrive at Starbase 52?"
"We should arrive at 0200 hours, assuming there are no unexpected surprises...like an MVAM drill..."
"Yes, those 3am MVAM drills are always an interesting surprise," Mason replied, laughing. "Shall we postpone the game then?"
Pausing, Isabel considered the idea. "We need to change our course so that we'll arrive at Starbase 52 on time and check to make sure nothing else needs our attention... Perhaps a game after that, or after we've received our newest crewmember?"
OFF: Tag Mason! (JP perhaps?) Also, Welcome to the Malinche P'ayanna!! Glad to have you with us!
Let's keep up the posting everyone...and be sure to watch time/day..I'll be jumping time ahead in an upcoming post.
Isabel smiled at Mason, "Game sounds like a great idea Mason."
As she was about to stand up, Isabel heard the beep of an incoming message. She looked over at Mason apologetically, "Hopefully this won't take long."
"Not a problem. We can always play later; business comes first."
Isabel nodded, tapping buttons on her display. Interesting... "Well, it appears we'll have to slightly alter our course."
Mason looked at her, a little confused. "Alter course? Why? I thought they wanted us to get to Celtron V as soon as possible... The factions are at each others' throats as it is."
"I know. It seems that we're to pick up some supplies and a new crewmember at Starbase 52. Fourth year cadet P'ayanna. She'll be our Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer. Klingon."
"Another cadet? StarFleet is certainly giving us quite a few cadets in fairly important positions. And that will make P'ayanna the..second Klingon on the Malinche?"
Smiling at him reassuringly, Isabel stood up. "I'm sure they wouldn't be giving us the cadets if they didn't feel they would be able to perform their duties. At this point I'm more worried about getting to Celtron V before things get out of hand. I haven't heard anything more from our contact, which has me a little worried. Hopefully we'll find out more soon - I don't like going into a situation blind."
Mason nodded at his captain, "I don't like it either, but sometimes we don't get a choice. How long until we arrive at Starbase 52?"
"We should arrive at 0200 hours, assuming there are no unexpected surprises...like an MVAM drill..."
"Yes, those 3am MVAM drills are always an interesting surprise," Mason replied, laughing. "Shall we postpone the game then?"
Pausing, Isabel considered the idea. "We need to change our course so that we'll arrive at Starbase 52 on time and check to make sure nothing else needs our attention... Perhaps a game after that, or after we've received our newest crewmember?"
OFF: Tag Mason! (JP perhaps?) Also, Welcome to the Malinche P'ayanna!! Glad to have you with us!
Let's keep up the posting everyone...and be sure to watch time/day..I'll be jumping time ahead in an upcoming post.
Captain Isabel Kersare
Commanding Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-A
-
Former Member
- Posts: 169
- Joined: Mon Dec 19, 2005 11:48 pm
<Starbase 52, Day 4, 0015>
"ghuy'cha'," P'ayanna cursed a she kicked a cabinet shut. While she'd been angered about being sent to this station and wanted to be assigned somewhere meaningful, she did not appreciate learning that a ship was on its way and would beam her over in two hours! This confirmed that those in charge of assigning personnel were yIntagh and unworthy of anything but an inglorious death. At this moment, she'd give her betleH to send the lot of them to rur'a penteH for a permanent vacation.
Quickly rolling her garments, she was stuffing everything into the standard Starfleet container for transport to her new assignment, a ship with a funny name that made no sense to her at all. She was fairly certain that the name was vulqangan or even anDorISngan.
Seeing that her clothing was packed, she started in on her uniforms. This would be the quick part of packing, as they were nearly indestructible. After that, she'd put in her weapons and all would be ready, but for what?
For transfer to a gagny veQDuj that looks like a t'holIngan. She was somewhat less than amused. In fact, only the hope that she would find battle on this mal'Inch kept her going...
veQDuj - garbage scow
t'holIngan - Tholian (they DO look like one, sort of Wink )
vulqangan - Vulcan
anDorISngan - Andorian
betleH - bat'leth (anglicized)[/i]
_________________
Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche
NCC-38897-B
"ghuy'cha'," P'ayanna cursed a she kicked a cabinet shut. While she'd been angered about being sent to this station and wanted to be assigned somewhere meaningful, she did not appreciate learning that a ship was on its way and would beam her over in two hours! This confirmed that those in charge of assigning personnel were yIntagh and unworthy of anything but an inglorious death. At this moment, she'd give her betleH to send the lot of them to rur'a penteH for a permanent vacation.
Quickly rolling her garments, she was stuffing everything into the standard Starfleet container for transport to her new assignment, a ship with a funny name that made no sense to her at all. She was fairly certain that the name was vulqangan or even anDorISngan.
Seeing that her clothing was packed, she started in on her uniforms. This would be the quick part of packing, as they were nearly indestructible. After that, she'd put in her weapons and all would be ready, but for what?
For transfer to a gagny veQDuj that looks like a t'holIngan. She was somewhat less than amused. In fact, only the hope that she would find battle on this mal'Inch kept her going...
veQDuj - garbage scow
t'holIngan - Tholian (they DO look like one, sort of Wink )
vulqangan - Vulcan
anDorISngan - Andorian
betleH - bat'leth (anglicized)[/i]
_________________
Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche
NCC-38897-B
<<USS Malinche>>
<<Ready Room, 0130, Day 4>>
Mason walked onto the bridge and took the center chair, this was a change normally when a new crew member was assigned to the ship they arrived by shuttle or by runabout. It was always a pleasure to see something like a starbase to remind him of earth and why he was in starfleet.
The ship was not to far away from the base at warp five, Mason conducted his usual rounds and went to his office to compile the report. He had heard from Isabel about this new arrival a new cadet, Hunt always thought that cadets never really got the fullness of deep space traning than they should. It was about time command was sending them out into the field to get some hands on experience.
After struggling with the report, Mason decided to take a break and headed out to the bridge to check on things, This time he didn't sit down in Isabel's chair. He moved over and sat in his own which rocked and squeeked a little when he moved about.
At first he tried really hard to ingore it but eventually couldn't stand it.
=/\=Hunt To Engineering=/\=
"Engineering, Jadan here sir."
"Jadan, my chair has decided to retire is there anyway you can come up here and take a look?"
<Tag Jadan>
Isabel fixing her uniform collar strolled over to the sad faced first officer. She began working on her terminal when she heard the noises coming from Hunt's chair.
"Is everything ok, Mason?" (She snickered trying to hide it)
"I called Jadan hopefully he could fix it or perhaps replace it with a newer model. The XO on the base has one complete with two consoles."
" I see, until then perhaps you should transfer you console operations to the science station."
"No, its ok I will stand." (He stood relucantly finding a small amount of humor in his situation."
<Bridge, 0200, Day 4>
The Malinche had finally arrived and took a parking orbit around the base.
"Captain, signal from base command. They are ready to commense beaming over of supplies and our new arrival." said Hunt.
OFF: Tag Isabel and Jadan. Sorry If i got any of the time messed up. Just a little something to move us along and a chance to pick up our new arrival. Welcome aboard P'ayanna!!!
<<Ready Room, 0130, Day 4>>
Mason walked onto the bridge and took the center chair, this was a change normally when a new crew member was assigned to the ship they arrived by shuttle or by runabout. It was always a pleasure to see something like a starbase to remind him of earth and why he was in starfleet.
The ship was not to far away from the base at warp five, Mason conducted his usual rounds and went to his office to compile the report. He had heard from Isabel about this new arrival a new cadet, Hunt always thought that cadets never really got the fullness of deep space traning than they should. It was about time command was sending them out into the field to get some hands on experience.
After struggling with the report, Mason decided to take a break and headed out to the bridge to check on things, This time he didn't sit down in Isabel's chair. He moved over and sat in his own which rocked and squeeked a little when he moved about.
At first he tried really hard to ingore it but eventually couldn't stand it.
=/\=Hunt To Engineering=/\=
"Engineering, Jadan here sir."
"Jadan, my chair has decided to retire is there anyway you can come up here and take a look?"
<Tag Jadan>
Isabel fixing her uniform collar strolled over to the sad faced first officer. She began working on her terminal when she heard the noises coming from Hunt's chair.
"Is everything ok, Mason?" (She snickered trying to hide it)
"I called Jadan hopefully he could fix it or perhaps replace it with a newer model. The XO on the base has one complete with two consoles."
" I see, until then perhaps you should transfer you console operations to the science station."
"No, its ok I will stand." (He stood relucantly finding a small amount of humor in his situation."
<Bridge, 0200, Day 4>
The Malinche had finally arrived and took a parking orbit around the base.
"Captain, signal from base command. They are ready to commense beaming over of supplies and our new arrival." said Hunt.
OFF: Tag Isabel and Jadan. Sorry If i got any of the time messed up. Just a little something to move us along and a chance to pick up our new arrival. Welcome aboard P'ayanna!!!
Commander Mason Hunt
First Officer
USS Malinche NCC 38897-B
<<<USS Malinche>>>
<<Intel Office, 0800, day 4>>
Mark was reading the latest report about the Celtron incident when Mike Derrin (NPC) entered the room. The man looked calm, happy and had a very identifiable smirk on his face.
Derrin: Morning, Mark.
Grayson:*Mildly* You're late, ensign.
Derrin: I know, I know. I'm sorry. I....
Grayson: No need to explain, Mike. You and nurse Marsid (NPC).
Derrin: *surprised* Damn, how do you know that?
Grayson: *ironic* I wouldn't be a good intel officer if didn't know who my subordinated were sleeping with.
Derrin: *Mock anger* You sneaky sonofgun. You bugged my room?
Grayson:*laughs* Nothing that drastic. I only saw you talking to her and saw her reaction to your words. The rest you just confirmed to me, right now.
Derrin: *puts his hand on his face* You bluffed and I fell for it. Look, leave this alone, ok?
Grayson: *laughs* Don't worry, loverboy. So, do you like her?
Mike dropped himself on his chair. He throwed a betrayed look to Mark.
Derrin: Yeah, I like her. Could we change the subject of this conversation, please?
Grayson: Of course, Mike. I uploaded all recent information of Celtron to your padd. I need you to analyze the factions weaponery potential. I know we don't have much hard data, so guesses are allowed on this one.
Derrin: Aye, aye, sir. By the way, where's our lovely counselor? I thought she would be working with us.
Mark growled and then sighed. Mike grinned at his reaction.
Grayson: She's working in the factions psych profliles. She will show here some time today. I hope later, after I'm gone off duty.
Derrin smiled at Mark's response. He picked the some green tea on the replicator and then sat on his desk.
Derrin: You know what this look like, Mark?
Grayson: *firmly* No, I don't have a crush on her. I don't even think on her in this terms. Drop it. Don't even say it.
Derrin:*annoyed* I hate when you read my mind. *mumbles* But it's true.
Grayson: First of all, I'm no telepath. You're predictable. *warning tone* Drop it, Mike.
Derrin:*grins* Touch?, Mark.
Mark grinned.
Grayson: Ok, ok. We're even. Now start working, ensign.
Derrin:*mock salute* Right away, sir.
Mark smiled and then turned his attention to his own padd. But, Mike's word bugged him a lot. He felt some attraction to Navdante... No! No relationships. And mainly no relationships with telepaths. Never would work.
Mark shrugged, trying to put that thought away. He looked at the image of Celtron. That's what he should be thinking. That would be he was going to thought from now on.
Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.
OFF: Tag crew. Some char development. Tag Navdante.
PS: I forward things a bit. We have a lot of terrain, or should I say space?, to cover.
<<Intel Office, 0800, day 4>>
Mark was reading the latest report about the Celtron incident when Mike Derrin (NPC) entered the room. The man looked calm, happy and had a very identifiable smirk on his face.
Derrin: Morning, Mark.
Grayson:*Mildly* You're late, ensign.
Derrin: I know, I know. I'm sorry. I....
Grayson: No need to explain, Mike. You and nurse Marsid (NPC).
Derrin: *surprised* Damn, how do you know that?
Grayson: *ironic* I wouldn't be a good intel officer if didn't know who my subordinated were sleeping with.
Derrin: *Mock anger* You sneaky sonofgun. You bugged my room?
Grayson:*laughs* Nothing that drastic. I only saw you talking to her and saw her reaction to your words. The rest you just confirmed to me, right now.
Derrin: *puts his hand on his face* You bluffed and I fell for it. Look, leave this alone, ok?
Grayson: *laughs* Don't worry, loverboy. So, do you like her?
Mike dropped himself on his chair. He throwed a betrayed look to Mark.
Derrin: Yeah, I like her. Could we change the subject of this conversation, please?
Grayson: Of course, Mike. I uploaded all recent information of Celtron to your padd. I need you to analyze the factions weaponery potential. I know we don't have much hard data, so guesses are allowed on this one.
Derrin: Aye, aye, sir. By the way, where's our lovely counselor? I thought she would be working with us.
Mark growled and then sighed. Mike grinned at his reaction.
Grayson: She's working in the factions psych profliles. She will show here some time today. I hope later, after I'm gone off duty.
Derrin smiled at Mark's response. He picked the some green tea on the replicator and then sat on his desk.
Derrin: You know what this look like, Mark?
Grayson: *firmly* No, I don't have a crush on her. I don't even think on her in this terms. Drop it. Don't even say it.
Derrin:*annoyed* I hate when you read my mind. *mumbles* But it's true.
Grayson: First of all, I'm no telepath. You're predictable. *warning tone* Drop it, Mike.
Derrin:*grins* Touch?, Mark.
Mark grinned.
Grayson: Ok, ok. We're even. Now start working, ensign.
Derrin:*mock salute* Right away, sir.
Mark smiled and then turned his attention to his own padd. But, Mike's word bugged him a lot. He felt some attraction to Navdante... No! No relationships. And mainly no relationships with telepaths. Never would work.
Mark shrugged, trying to put that thought away. He looked at the image of Celtron. That's what he should be thinking. That would be he was going to thought from now on.
Or at least that was what he kept telling himself.
OFF: Tag crew. Some char development. Tag Navdante.
PS: I forward things a bit. We have a lot of terrain, or should I say space?, to cover.
Lieutenant Mark Grayson II
Chief Intelligence Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38897-B
"O divine art of subtlety and secrecy! Through you we learn to be invisible, through you inaudible and hence we can hold the enemy's fate in our hands." - Sun Tzu