USS Malinche NCC-38997-A

<Day 19, 1200>

Although she wasn't certain that Ensigns Stone and Weaver actually benefitted all that much from being consistently embarrassed, insofar as their skills went, P'ayanna knew that they needed the work. Rescue operations in specific, and combat operations in general, required flexibility and rapid adjustments to changing circumstances. tera'nganpu' called it the fog of war, an ample term that she'd learned when reading Clausewitz. If only he had not been so focused on the staff side of warfare and more on the individual warrior.

It was a failing that many races among the DIvI' shared. They focused on strategic warfare at the expense of tactical focus. However, she knew that strategic victory depended on many tactical victories. In fact, Klingon philosophy of war, the Suv tIgh, derived from a focus on many individual warriors finding glory and success in battle.

Marching onto the mess decks like she owned the place, she selected a very rare steak with potatoes to bolster her carbohydrates and proteins. Her diet was, as it should be, very light on fruits and vegetables, as neither of these were necessary for her Klingon metabolism.

OFF:
_________________
Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche
NCC-38897-B

<<USS Malinche>>
<<Mess decks, 1200, day 19>>

Grayson entered the room and watched the Klingon Female, P'ayanna. He, of course, had her file checked twice. Klingons were an interesting type. He was sure she couldn't be the one sabotaging the ship. That would an aggression to her honor. Still, she could know something about the Klingon ship tailing the Malinche. "Cadet??, called Mark, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Mreh," she replied, slicing through her steak with a quick flick of the rest. "What do you wish to discuss?"

"About the Malinche enemies", said Mark. He knew that he had to tread lightly with her. "About the Klingon ship that is following us".

P'ayanna gave a dismissive shrug. "They are no match for us. If they wish for battle, they will die well. Why does a single toQDuj concern you?"

"The Empire High Council didn't approve any ships to interfere with our mission", replied Mark, coldly. ?Moreover, I'm positive there's more than one Klingon ship interested on our mission." Mark kept his voice low, as he continued. "I need a Klingon point-of-view, to understand what motivation the Klingons rogues would have to be interested in the Celtronian problem".

P'ayanna took a bite off of the end of her knife. Her people had very little use for spoons and forks, although both had their place. "I am no rogue and can tell you little about what the dishonorable would think." It was doubly true because Intelligence personnel had no honor, whatsoever. "Perhaps they wish to observe our influence here."

Mark sighed. "Cadet, don't know the phrase 'To conquer your enemies, you must understand them'? I know you have", Mark said. "Can't you extrapolate and permit yourself, for a second, to imagine what they would gain by observing us?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps they wish to see these Sel'trongan in battle. It will tell us if they are worthy opponents or mere yIntaghpu'." The world was, after all, not very far from Klingon space.

There was something interesting in what P'ayanna had said. Could these rogues be observing the situation to find out how strong the Celtronians were and then, depending on what they concluded, invade the system? It was a good question. A question worthy to be analyzed. He nodded. "Do you think these Klingons could invade the system if they thought they Celtronians were weak??, asked him, observing how the Cadet handled her knife to eat. It was not a nice view.

"Warriors must seek new enemies," she told him, matter-of-factly. "It is our way." She was not impressed that he hadn't come to this conclusion on his own. So much for the vaunted intelligence arm of the DIvI'.

Mark sighed again. Warriors and their new enemies. "Of course, cadet, you're right", replied Mark. "I keep forgetting how trigger happy your race is. They would attack just for the pleasure of fighting and risk an open war with the Federation. Makes sense, if you're a Klingon with a death wish", concluded Mark.

Strong words for a DIvI' petaQ," P'ayanna growled, suddenly filled with the desire to disembowel him right here. The Empire would crush the Federation if it came to that, but that wasn't what angered her. The implication that her people would dishonor the alliance was a strong insult.

"Strong words for a Cadet", shot back Mark. "Maybe you should look who has the higher rank, before you start being unsubordinated." Mark knew she would react like that. Predictable. "Your reaction proves my point. If the rogues react like you did because a provocation, maybe we could brought them into the open and, finally face them. Can you see my point or you're going to use your knife on me?", asked Mark, knowing very well he was gambling with his life there. Mark had lost fear of death a long time ago, during the Dominion War.

"You are a disgusting coward to hide behind that gagny pip like some verengan petaQ," she growled, her tone a dangerous one.

"Are you aware, Cadet", started Mark, "That your behavior is not helping the mission or Captain Kersare, who is an honorable officer? I suggest you calm down." Mark's voice was cold. He lowered his voice as he added, "And if you want to take a shot at me, maybe we should meet in the holodeck, turn the safeties off and see what happens."

"Name the time, chemvaH," she replied. It would be good to feel the satisfying snap of one of his bones in her hands. "Now, we've had our discussion. Qapla'."

"Today at 0030 hours", stated Mark. "Thank you for your invaluable point-of-view, Cadet", said Mark, already in motion, heading to his office. He stopped at the corridor, far from P'ayanna's ears and slapped his hand on his forehand. "What hell I was thinking challenging a Klingon!?, he said out loud. He shook his head, and muttered, "A date is a date and I never left a lady waiting".

OFF:

A Joint Post

By

Fourth Year Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche (NCC-38997-B)

AND

<<USS Malinche>>
<Sickbay, 1015, Day 19>

"That will do it then," Amanda said. "With your Borg metabolism you walk a very fine line of chemical balance. You're feeling the headache and run down because your blood sugar is low. I'll run some more tests; but the D50 Adam will give you should make you feel better in a few seconds."

NEW

Two wasn't sure why her blood sugar was low. She didn't need to eat like anyone else on the Mali. Her nanites took care of her needs for her. She would eat socially if she was required to attend something. Social eating like people did social drinking. It was something she could take or leave.

She turned her neck so that Adam could give her the injection she needed. What she felt she honestly needed was an afternoon in her chamber. An afternoon without a roommie interrupting her "sleep." They didn't like to be awakened otu of a sound sleep; why should she be any different?

If she had been human, she would have dozed right off. She hated waiting on anything, especially when she had other things to do. Her mind was not concentrating right, and she honestly hoped that the captain could understand exactly what she had been trying to tell her. If not, Two would redo it.\

"Adam, I think when I leave here, I'm heading back to my quarters to spend some time in my chamber. Would you be so kind to tell whomever that I won't be able to be contacted for some time when I leave here?"

OFF

Tag, CMO.

<<USS Malinche>>
<Walkers Quarters, 1015, Day 19>

Brad was in his quarters, already starting to pack up some of his things. Part of him was still in shock about what had happened...the other part was somewhat happy about being able to expand her his horizons.

There wasn't much on this Anderson Summers, the one that Brad was serve as XO too. His service records was impressive enough; although peppered with acts of 'cowboy diplomacy' as some would call it. Brad wasn't exactly overly attached to regulations...he felt they needed flexing from time to time. Maybe that was why Lt. Commander Summers had picked him...

Brad continued packing...hoping that things continued to go smoothly for the crew of the Malinche.

OFF
_________________
Lieutenant Commander Brad Walker
Chief Medical Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B

<USS Malinche>>
<Sickbay, 1015, Day 19>

"Actually, I think I can do one better then that," Amanda smiled, appearing next to the bed, PADD in hand.

"Whats this?" Harrison asked.

"I've just had Lt. Barrett place nothing but a command/security/medical override on your door. No one will be coming in for another 6 hours. That should give you more then enough time to re-generate."

"Thank you doctor...but will the captain approve of this?"

"Its a medical necessity for one of my patients, I'm sure that she can be convinced this one time won't pose a problem. Anyone that tries to enter will get a message explaining whats gonig on...they can report to me if they have a problem."

"Thank you doctor."

"Don't mention it, now off you go to get some sleep."

Harrison nodded and then jumped off the biobed, heading out the door and toward her quarters.

"Another life saved," Adam (NPC) smiled.

"Don't you know it."

OFF: There you go Harrison, some undisturbed rest!

<The Famous Roommies Quarters>

Two entered into her quarters. Maybe the CMO was right. She had had a very busy morning on no sleep.

SIX hours of uninterrupted silence!!!!!!! None of the roommies could wake her up. Like they could without literally opening up the chamber and shaking her awake. Then it wasn't that easy to do.

She stopped off at the replicator and got a glass of OJ. That would raise the blood sugar enough so that it doesn't go too low while she napped. Maybe something else to go with it, but she really wasn't that hungry. She wasn't hungry, period.

She changed from her uniform to her USS Maelstrom workout clothes. She had worked out with them from time to time before she had been transferred. Security had a good workout. She found the PT uniform comfortable and had replicated about six. Now, since she was on the Mali, she slept in them and wore the USS Mali workout clothes when she worked out.

She climbed into the chamber and felt a wave of relief wash over her. She programmed the chamber for the six hours so that she could "sleep" that night. Once the door shut, she would be left alone.

OLD:

"Today at 0030 hours", stated Mark. "Thank you for your invaluable point-of-view, Cadet", said Mark, already in motion, heading to his office. He stopped at the corridor, far from P'ayanna's ears and slapped his hand on his forehand. "What hell I was thinking challenging a Klingon!?, he said out loud. He shook his head, and muttered, "A date is a date and I never left a lady waiting."

NEW:

<Day 19, 1330>

Her hot temper was hardly enough to keep P'ayanna awake much longer, particularly because she'd been up all night. Right now, she needed to get some rest, take a late dinner and warm up for her "date" with Grayson. She would worry about that when the time came, but not sooner, as he hardly warranted concern.

Upon entry to her quarters, she saw that it was thankfully quiet. With luck, Petra would remain at work and it would stay that way. One challenge would be enough for this day, she figured.

Sliding out of her shoes and uniform, she hopped onto her bunk in only her undergarments and jInaQ. She then slid deeply under the covers, which were uncharacteristically soft for a Klingon, and drifted off to sleep.

OFF:
_________________
Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche
NCC-38897-B

<USS Malinche>
<XO? Ready Room, Day 19, 1345>


After Isabel has left the XO?s office, Mason had his full of being alone so he got up and walked out deciding to take a trip around the ship. Something he hadn?t done since this new mission had begun.

The ship had not yet arrived at Celtron V and Mason was getting most eager for some odd reason. Thoughts ran around his mind about visiting Walker it was odd that even though Hunt never really knew Walker expect on a professional level on the SoulWolf and now the Malinche he was going to miss him as if one of the family was going away on a long trip of sorts.

Mason finally arrived at the CMO?s quarters, he pressed on the door chime waiting for Walker to answer.

<Tag Walker>

?Hello, Doctor. Wow it looks like your packing your entire cabin (he said laughing).?

<Tag Walker>

?Transferring to command has its rewards trust me on that one. When you are scheduled to depart??

<Tag Walker>

Mason picked up a sculpture made out of refined metals and thought.

?Say, Brad how about having a final drink before you leave??

OFF: Tag Walker

<<USS Malinche>>
<<Intelligence Office, 1425, day 19>>

Derrin (NPC): HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND, MARK!?

Mark sighed. Mike was getting predictable. He didn't answer Mike, just kept looking at the other man walking from side to side of Mark's office

Derrin: You challenged a Klingon to a fight?! Have you lost your mind?!

Grayson: *dryly* You said that already.

Derrin: Stop joking Mark! She's going to break you in two! She's going to rip your head off! She's going to...

Grayson: *interrupting, serious* I got the picture, Mike.

Derrin, still shocked, dropped his body on a chair.

Derrin: Why, Mark?

Grayson: *thoughtful* I provoked her. I offended her honor. I got a good perspective about the motives on why rogues Klingons are following us. That helped a lot. I can forsee an attack on us as soon we try to stabilize the situation on Celtron. They will try to take the honor of our mission away.

Derrin: You didn't answer my question, Mark. Why did you challenged Cadet P'ayanna? You're a decent hand to hand fighter, but you'll never win a fight against an angry klingon. She'll break your bones just for fun.

Mark sighed. He was right of course. But, Mark would never admit he had made a wrong decision. It wasn't his way.

Grayson: I did what needed be done. I got information, from the Klingon point of view. What happened after it's just the price I'm going to pay for offending her.

Derrin: Mark, you're nuts. You don't need to go. Back away from the challenge. You're an officer, for crying out loud. You can't do that.

Grayson: *angry* How long do you know me, Mike? 3 years? Do you remember me backing away from anything I did?

Derrin: *dryly* I can think at least three different occasions.

Mark rolled his eyes.

Grayson: Oh, right. The three occasion I backed away because I could expose my sources. Backing away saved lifes. I'm not stupid. I was talking about situations that only offered risk for me.

Derrin looked away. He sighed loudly.

Derrin: You always faced everything, never worrying about the consequences. The enquiry is an example, you damn fool.

Mark smiled for second. Derrin had already accepted the situation.

Grayson: Mike, what I need from you is simple. I'll probably be a mess at end of the fight, so I need to you back me up in case someone asks what happened to me. You just need to confirm that, I, sometimes, turn the safeties off in my programs. Specially the one that recriates my mission to Cardassia.

Derrin looked confused.

Derrin: Mission to Cardassia? You never told me anything about....

Grayson: Doesn't matter now. I just need you to do this thing for me. Will you?

Derrin put his hands over his face for a moment, then, he looked at Mark and gave a slightly nod.

Derrin: You saved my rear end more times I can count, Mark. I'll back you up. Just don't get yourself killed.

Mark smiled, showing a false confidence.

Grayson: Don't worry, Mike. I don't intend to be killed. I'm too stubborn to die.

Mike smiled thinly at that and Mark took comfort on that. The fight was going to be a world of pain, but Mark knew that world well, after the tortures and privations in Cardassia. He'll do the best he could in the fight, that was what he always did. "Damn the rest", thought him.

OFF:

<<Bridge, 1400, Day 19>>

Isabel was still on the bridge. Her conversation earlier with Mason was still on her mind, but there was little she could do right now. A little while ago he had gone to see Brad; perhaps a little time talking with him would help. Then again, Brad was going to be leaving them... He would be missed on the Malinche, but Isabel was glad for the time that he had been there, and that he would be staying on the ship for the time being at least.

The news from Jason about the Celtronians testing weapons was disturbing, although not altogether surprising. It could have been a show of force, a warning, a threat... Whatever it was, the possibility of a good connotation being associated with it was slim, to the say the least. The operations department had since been monitoring and scanning very closely, looking for the slightest indication of any more trouble.

Sharon and Ryan (NPC) were still attempting to unscramble more of the message from Celtron V, but thus far she hadn't been notified of any progress. As Isabel looked over towards where they were working, she decided not to bother them. Although..

The captain walked over to Sharon, standing a little behind and to the left of her silently. A few moments later the young officer turned and saw her. "Ensign, haven't you been working an awful long time?"

Looking away for a moment, Sharon met the captain's eyes, "Yes, I have. I wanted to try to get some more of this put together for you, but it's scrambled pretty well..."

Isabel smiled, seeing how tired the communications chief was, "I appreciate your dedication, but don't you think you should go get some sleep? Ensign Tamlin can work on it for a while."

Yawning, Sharon stood up and nodded. She headed for the turbolift as Isabel walked back to the center of the bridge. Frowning, Isabel looked over at the flight control console. She had expected the new Chief Flight Control Officer, Ensign Xio, to have come to the bridge by now. Perhaps she was still settling in...

T'serra had apparently been going over some new information they had received regarding the Celtronians - not much, just some basic info, but it could be important in the end. Actually Isabel had made sure the Security/Tactical department and Intelligence department got the information as well.

The one department she had heard very little from was the Science department. Isabel sincerely hoped they would come up with something. Information regarding the wormhole could be beneficial when trying to handle negotiations since it was the entire reason the two factions were fighting. Also, if they did end up having to battle any of the Celtronians, it would be best to know about any spacial anomalies in the area. She knew she had sent them a request about the info earlier, so Isabel decided to wait for the time being and then she'd pay a special visit to them if they didn't get it to her soon.

Isabel sighed. She hated the waiting. Here she was so limited as to what she could do. Isabel would rather already be there, doing something, anything. Unfortunately they were still nearly a day away and could do nothing. Even if she could get news of what was happening on Celtron V now, she would feel better. And not only did she have what was ahead to worry her, she also had to be concerned about the Klingons following them. It would not be an easy mission, but Isabel was confident that her crew could handle it.

OFF: Okay let's keep things moving so we can get to the *actual* mission. Everybody's doing great thus far, so keep it up!

<<USS Malinche>>
<<Intelligence Office, 1600, day 19>>

Jason got along good with the crew. So good that he was host to a whole host of rumors that other officers were not. One such rumor was that Grayson decided that he needed to pick a fight with the Klingon...he wasn't sure if it was true or not. Although he intended to find out.

"Ah, Mr. Grayson...I heard some interesting news today."

Grayson was surprised to see Lieutenant Barrett there in office. He didn't know the man well enough, to begin with. He read Barret's file and knew about his maran heritage. Not that mattered in any way. Barrett was well known and respect among the Fleet. Still, Mark wondered what news could take Barreut from the bridge and take you to Mark's office.

"Really, sir?", replied Mark. "What news?"

That you got some idea that you were going to fight a Klingon."

Mark blinked. Secrets, it was impossible to keep one in a starship. "I have no idea of what are you talking about, sir", replied Mark, ironic.

Jason rolled his eyes. "I wasn't born yesterday...you know that when you get hurt Darkhelm will have a fit."

"Look at me, Lieutenant ", replied Mark, serious now. "Do you actually think I would get in a fight with Klingon without a good reason? With all due respect, you're a senior officer; you shouldn't waste your time listening to gossip."

Jason laughed. Mark was good, but then again Jason had been friends with Aiden Storm, who had taught him a thing or two.

"Don't worry about me...I just came to see if you were really going to go through with it."

"Go through what?", insisted Mark. Barrett seemed to be nice guy, but he was a senior officer, a Lieutenant. He would have to tell the captain. So deny was the only choice for Mark.

"We both know that you intend to fight the Klingon, don't worry about me telling the CO...in fact we'll say that I was never here, I just came to see if you would like some help."

Mark sighed. Damn. Jason Barrett was insistent and clever. "Look, sir, I appreciate you coming here and warning about... That. But, if I was going to fight with the Klingon, this being a mere hypothesis, I think I would know the consequences of my acts."

Mark added quickly, "Still, I have to admit, I'm glad someone actually cares for my well being".

"I take you haven't met Darkhelm yet, have you?"

"Darkhelm, Amanda. Ex-marine, versed in several martial arts. Transfered to the navy. Known by her irritation with unnecessary wounds. Actually, sir... I think I know more about her that you do", answered Mark. "I wouldn't be a good Intel officer if I didn't know my fellow officers files".

"Then you know exactly what she'll do to you if you go ahead with this fight."

"To be honest, sir... Lt. Commander Darkhelm reaction would the last thing in mind, supposing I would fight cadet P'ayanna., of course". Mark's tone was light. He wouldn't admit nothing to Barrett. But, Barrett didn?t' need a confirmation anyway.

"Then at least let me show you some Maran moves, they can counter Klingon ones very well."

Mark considered that. That was not a bad idea. "Well, there's nothing wrong in learning self defense moves, sir.?, replied Mark.

"Indeed there is not, meet at the holodeck at, let's say 2000 hours?"

"Sure, sir. Why not? I appreciate your help, considering I'm not going do anything...." answered Mark, with a grin. "I'll be there."

"See you soon," with that said, Jason turned and left the room.

Mark nodded. He had to admit.... Jason Barrett was a surprising person. He was not only a good officer. He was better. He was a good man, also. "That's hard to find in the Fleet, these days", thought Mark.

OFF:
A JP By

Lieutenant Jason Barrett
Chief Operations Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B

and

<USS Malinche>
<Mason? Quarters, 1615 Hours>

From Mason could tell Walker was not in a drinking mood, so he wished him farewell and left. Since he was not needed on the bridge, Mason walked to his quarters tripping over a few books and misc items he had left in rushing out for duty earlier this morning. Despite what his mother taught him, he barely managed to keep his own cabin nice and tidy.

Everyone had their jobs cut out for them on this particular mission; the only thing Hunt could was sit back and read reports all day long. Being tired he took off his uniform jacket and laid back into his chair deep in thought.

His eyes were near shut when the computer woke him up.

=/\=Computer to Commander Hunt, you have a message waiting for on subspace=/\=

?Thank you computer, route message to monitor.?

The text message now displayed was from his cousin in New Berlin, they hadn?t talked in years because of their deep space assignments. As children no one could separate them try as any would might. The message spoke of his cousin?s promotion to Lieutenant JG and that he was being reassigned to the federation task forces on Devena Four.

At last some good news that would bring the XO out of his tired attitude. It was late and he hadn?t eaten anything. He was ready for some au grain potatoes and some grilled steak with gravy on top. Mason punched it into the replicator and spent the entire hour eating, once he was finished, Hunt moved over to his couch looking up at the ceiling wondering what would happened next.

OFF

<<USS Malinche>>
<Walkers Quarters, 1745, Day 19>

Most everything in his quarters was packed...although he was still astonished about being choosen as an XO for a starship. His free hours wre spent going over the specs for the Nebula class and fleet regualtions. His degree in medicine and science would help with some of the marterial...the rest he would be learning on the fly.

He sighed and sat back in his desk chair before diving back into more work.

OFF:
_________________
Lieutenant Commander Brad Walker
Chief Medical Officer
USS Malinche NCC-38997-B

ON:

<Holodeck, Day 20, 0025>

P'ayanna stood alone at the center of the holodeck, calming her nerves. This was a non-fatal battle and, because of this, she had to be careful about how she approached it. She would be figuratively holding back, but not so much that it would be a handicap. It would be like sparring, except that she wanted to hurt the other party.

She didn't mind the rank structure and understood its purpose, in the big scheme of things. However, she would never bow to a piece of metal some yIntagh wore around his or her neck. In her existence, rank was something that was earned and reinforced, not granted.

The minutes rolled by as she waited, half expecting him to default. It was the wise thing to do, but wisdom was not a quality she'd attribute to Lieutenant Grayson - Lieutenant Junior Grade Grayson, actually. The only true danger, to her mind, was that Kersare would be displeased. She'd worry about that when it came.

She was impassive as the doors opened and Grayson walked in. Like P'ayanna, he was in athletic gear that would enable him freedom of motion, which ruled out her taking advantage of mobility limitations in the standard Federation jump suit uniform.

"All right, let's see what you've got," he told her, tilting his body in preparations for a lunging attack. The Maran trick he learned the previous evening was supposed to be a good counter to the tradition moqbara opening, which he somewhat expected her to use.

P'ayanna did not disappoint nor surprise Grayson, choosing a standard attack. While masterfully executed, he was ready for her, parrying her blow and delivering a fist to her midsection. It was a solid hit, one that would knock the wind of of most assailants, yet it only earned a grunt.

Rolling her blocked wrist out of his grasp, she brought her arm around Grayson's and brought her fist against the outside of his upper arm and shoulder. She'd underestimated his resolve and his skills, which meant she had to settle for trading blows for blows.

Gritting his teeth, Grayson attempted a judo-like throw to disengage, hoping to avoid a grappling contest with the larger woman, but wasn't able to get enough leverage. She responded by spinning out of his grasp and sending a whip-kick to his midsection. Something cracked, probably a lower rib or two, but he kept his ground, delivering a shot to the temple and brow.

P'ayanna's left fist slammed into the area of his ribs that she'd just damaged, while her right leg hooked his, tripping him and depositing him on the floor. He rolled, taking her feet out from under her and she landed a meter or so away.

P'ayanna landed hard, but then hopped right up, leaping forward, landing in a crouch and bringing her knee down on his abdomen. Flailing, he punched her thigh hard enough to bruise, but not to injure her. She leapt to her feet and backed out of his range.

Coughing, he rolled over and got onto his knees, hand over his gut. It was a struggle to regain his feet, but he'd be damned if he was giving up.

"paH," she told him. "You are beaten."

"That," he gasped, standing up and taking a deep breath, "does not mean I am giving up!"

P'ayanna let down her guard, completely surprised by him. Apparently, he had some worthiness, after all. Breaking into laughter, she told him, "perhaps I do not hate you."

It was Grayson's turn to be surprised. "What are you talking about?"

P'ayanna dabbed at her bleeding brow, realizing he'd gotten in a good one. "Let us drink!"

"And why would I drink with you?"

Shrugging, she told him, "because our bruises have only begun to hurt. Qapla'."

Mark blinked and then he laughed for a second before the pain in his ribs almost make him pass away. "You're damn right, P'ayanna. I think I'll accept your drink offer," said he, clutching his side.

OFF:

JOINT POST

LTJG Grayson and
_________________
Cadet P'ayanna
Assistant Chief Security/Tactical Officer
USS Malinche
NCC-38897-B

ON: USS Malinche; Science Lab
<<Mission Day 19, 1400 hours>>

"Why won't you work!?" Petra demanded of the computer as the palm of her hand came down hard on the panel. The day was supposed to go well, now that the database had been restored, but ever since the moment she got into the lab she was facing one problem after another.

Firstly, the restored database didn't have her on profile. Apparently the last backup was made before she was added. That first hour or so kept her and the Engineers busy... then fixed in a matter of moments once they discovered what the problem was.

So, one problem had been corrected... then she needed a nice cup of coffee. Nothing. Tea? Nothing. Any drink with caffeine? Nothing. Apparently the entire drinks database had been purged from the system, so the Chief Science Officer had to do research on both an empty stomach and a little cranky... top it off with a stinging bruise forming on her butt after being tossed aside by that Klingon Roomie of hers.

The hungry and slightly cranky Petra was then logged onto the system and attempting to access Sensory Information. The console displayed nothing. Not a single star, not a single spatial anomaly, not even a single electron... Engineering returned to take a look at the problem... that was two hours ago and it still hadn't been fixed. They apparently figured that it was a data-flow interruption somewhere along the aft section on the deck below the Science Labs between sections 3G and 4B. She had no idea where that was, so stayed put in the Lab and waited... and waited... and waited...

Disgruntled, frustrated and disheartened, Petra felt so useless. The Captain needed this information and here she was, unable to even look at the sensor's scans. Walking away from the console, she began to pace from one console to the next. The lab itself was quiet; a mesmerizing hum was the only sound as it pulled Petra from her own thoughts. Quickly realizing that the pacing wasn't helping, she entered her office in the back of the lab.

Sitting down in her chair, she was soon rudely reminded of the bruise on her butt as a shot of pain coursed through her body from the spot. Wincing slightly as she activated her console to make a report to Captain Kersare. She needed to let the captain know about the difficulties and let her know that she'd be getting her report sometime later that afternoon or early in the evening... all depending on when Engineering fixed the problem.

She was about halfway through the first paragraph when the COMM broke the silence of her office. "Engineering to Ensign Mavose."

'It's about time!' she told herself as she tapped her own commbadge. "Go ahead." She replied, half-heartedly.

"Sir... err... Ma'am," he corrected himself, "it appears that we've corrected the problem. Should there be anymore problems, I'm sure you know where to find us." he joked.

Petra wasn't amused. She had no time to be amused... but that wasn't the Engineer's fault. "Thank you." She had replied simply. "Mavose out."

Sighing, she finished off her report and sent it off to the Captain, apologizing for the delay.

As soon as the computer acknowledged the transmission, she stood up from the console and returned to the lab and brought up sensory information on the console she had been at earlier. Success! Life flowed through her once again. Her hand shot up to her commbadge. "Ensign Mavose to Ensign Riker, please report to the Science Lab. We've got a lot of work to do!"


OFF: Tag to Riker! JP?

ALL: I'm sorry for the delay!
_________________

Ensign Petra Mavose
Chief Science Officer
USS Malinche