I have received my character sheet, understand it, and am waiting for the first post.

OK, so for clarification purposes, Gib is where?

No need for that! It isn't like I've posted her full discipline schedule of late. You'd have to do some digging to find it. I would have too if I hadn't copied it to my game notes.

Good thinking, but Crane is now in the "Confined to Quarters" portion of her sentencing. So, she's no longer in the brig.

The idea is to think outside the box and attempt to come up with security protocols for the oddest and unlikely scenarios. Basically, he's asking them to do their best to predict the unpredictable and come up with likely ways to keep the ship safe during those scenarios.

Gib is going to spray the cat with water if they all survive this.

OK, so here's Gib's intent. If Aranwen doesn't call out orders, Gib will "suggest" that he lead Cedric and the woodsman into the cabin while the others deal with the zombies. Something like, "Cedric, with me!" Assuming that the woodsman is going to run straight for the cabin, he sees no need to call him forward. If at all possible, he'll attempt to move in such a way as to keep the woodsman in sight at all times. He still doesn't trust the man or the situation.

Offense: First, Turn Undead. Then, shield bashes past any zombies in the way and attempts to clear the path for those entering the cabin if necessary. Use the sword if the opportunity presents itself to slash as he's moving past, but his main objective is to get inside.

Defense: Find a way to put something solid and impassible at his back, hunker down and use his shield in defensive fighting, his sword for opportune strikes. Turn Undead as he can to keep the enemy at bay.

Support: If any of his companions look to be in dire need of healing, Gib will work his way to that companion's side as he can and even at risk to himself, pray for a miracle.

I liked it! Reminded me of the episode that was focused on the enlisted where the one woman ended up dying on a secret mission. 

I've posted for Asovil.

Stardate 2365.02.19
USS Peregrine, Captain's Mess - 1600

Asovil remains an emotionless shell as she awaits Captain Drake’s opening. She’s straight-backed, her white hair pulled back and worn up in a tightly woven braid that tucks her length out of sight within itself. This is the first time she’s seen some of the newest command staff let alone been in proximity. Now, her analytical mind goes to work assessing each of them with all of the exterior passion of a statue and the interior focus of a laser.

Within the confines of the Captain’s Mess—a room she has only been in on one other occasion—she is surrounded by a menagerie of species. A Trill (Asovil quickly decides to skip further thoughts on him), a Betazoid, a Daa'Vit (she’s rather proud of herself for being able to remember his race’s name), and three Terrans. Oh! And herself. The Federation represented rather well, if she does say so herself.

The new command staffers include the return of Lt. Cmdr Thorson and his very intriguing cybernetic arm, Lt. Tal, Lt. Nyle, and Lt. Reine. The Andorian knows little of Thorson other than what had occurred just after she had arrived on board. Tochi has mentioned his friend in various conversations but aside from the stories, she hasn’t had the opportunity to interact with the engineer. Lt. Tal appears to be confident but there’s something about that confidence that is confusing to the scientist.

Azure eyes drift from the platinum blond woman’s angular face to her shoulder and arm. Rumor has it that the Tac Officer has a haptic rig. Asovil has heard of the technology but never experienced it herself. The thought of being mentally tied into the computer is fascinating. Perhaps the lieutenant will share one day.

Next, she takes in the gaunt, grayish features of the new Ops officer. He looks young and untested, gangly even. How old is he? He’s an interesting one. Lt. Sh’iraolnas knows nothing of his race and is keen on learning more, especially about their sciences. If there’s one thing she’s learned from her time in Starfleet, it’s that each species adds their own flavor to the scientific community and that’s exciting. As an operations officer, Lt. Nyle may not know much of his people’s sciences, but then again… he could know just enough.

The new Chief Medical Officer is another who appears fairly young for her role—Not that I’m much different—and Asovil is sure she’ll get to know the doctor fairly well as their departments interact. Medical and Science usually find themselves working in concert on many different projects—Silas draws a breath, immediately tearing her away from her thoughts and captures her attention.

"Thank you all for joining me," he states. "Once again, the Peregrine has seen a large amount of turnover; I'd like to officially welcome Lieutenant Tal, Lieutenant Nyle, and Doctor Reine aboard.  Furthermore, I'd like to welcome Commander Thorson back."

Drake glances down at his PADD for a moment before continuing. "Let's go ahead and address the elephant in the room. I am well aware that my face has been plastered all over the holovids of late. Yes, I was court-martialed for my actions in the Gamera system. I was, in fact, acquitted of all serious charges. No, I am not particularly interested in rehashing any of this. My focus is on the missions to come, as should yours be."

After a slight pause, he continues. "Now, then.  Since Lieutenant Lasad has transferred out, I do need to name a Second Officer."  Glancing to his left, he acknowledges his new Tactical Chief. "Lieutenant Tal, you have technically been a full lieutenant longer than Lieutenant Nyle.  However, while on medical leave, you did not accumulate seniority, which means that Lieutenant Nyle has a little over three months on you. This makes the decision very clear."  Drake then fixes his gaze on the new Daa'Vit Operations chief. "Congratulations, Lieutenant Nyle—you are now officially the Second Officer of the USS Peregrine."

Aside from a small twitch of her antennae, Asovil remains impassive. The Captain must have some information on Lt. Nyle that makes him confident in the Daa’vit. Very interesting.

"Moving on," the Captain says as the projector flares to life revealing a star chart, "Starfleet Command has ordered us to proceed to the Trevil system, which lies in the middle of an important shipping lane that has come under attack several times by pirate vessels in the past few weeks. Starfleet Intelligence has reason to believe that another attack is imminent, so we will be patrolling the lane from Trevil, through Akgor, and back as far as Denbir." Captain Drake allows his gaze to pass over each of their faces. "Yes, we have drawn guard duty, which is hardly glamorous or interesting—but which is vital to the interests of the Federation."

Turning into her memory banks, Asovil attempts to place the route and location of the mission but finds herself drawing a blank. Her brother most certainly would know, as would one of her mothers, but she has no recollection of reading anything concerning the system.

Drake’s gaze settles back on Kara. "Lieutenant Tal, I got your message. I think that drills are an excellent idea. I'd like for you to put together a proposed schedule, and have it on my desk by 0900 on Monday, please."

Drills? Asovil slowly blinks as she processes the thought. Pirates… Likely nothing to do with my department. I’ll do some research on the system when I get back to my office. Perhaps there’s something of interest in the area to the Federation Science Council. At the very least, I’ll be able to continue my research.

The Captain looks back around the table, "Are there any other concerns? Any items I should know about, anything else that we should be preparing for?"

“There is, sir,” Asovil speaks up. She isn’t sure about the protocol behind such a junior member of the staff going first, but true to her Andorian personality, she presses on. “We may have a security breach.”

Unaware of the drama behind her pause, the blue-skinned alien looks calmly at her superior officer for a moment before continuing. Not even her antennae are revealing her feelings, which are getting hot with renewed anger at the thought. “I’ve been contacted multiple times by a mysterious figure who has demanded that I not seek publication for the method of cloaked vessel detection. The affront does not stop there, sir. All of my work—all of my documentation concerning the discovery has been deleted.”

Here, she dips her head towards Thorson. “Engineering cannot find how this is happening though they have valiantly tried. All that we know at this time is that any digital trace vanishes from our system including reports.”

Clasping her hands on the table in front of her, the elegant Andorian waits for her Captain’s reply.

"I see five of the undead," Gib states in a low tone just loud enough for his fellows to hear. "If there are only the five, we have the advantage. Speed could be our advantage. We might be able to get two of us through the door of the cabin while the rest tend to the corpses."

Sensing the panic in the woodsman doesn't help one keep a clear mind, but the warrior priest is determined not to allow his friends to fall prey to these foul, unnatural creatures... not another one. Flashes of his fallen friend's desecrated body strike the cleric's mind like enemy's blows and he hastens to quell the rush. 

Drawing his sword, Gib unshoulders his shield and settles it on his arm, "The risk we take is in not knowing what's waiting for us inside the cabin." Refusing to look at the poor father, he continues. "There's nothing scrambling down there. We could take the time for a scout to investigate." 

Glancing at Kith, the Priest of Therassor raises his eyebrows before turning his attention to the man. "Do you have a cellar? Anywhere inside the cabin where your family might have hidden?"

Huzzah and hoo-ah!

I hope to have a post up tonight.

And the spot thickens, as Asovil would say.

Stardate: 2365.03.28 (Sunday - 42268.2)
USS George Washington Carver, Bridge, Deck 1 - 20:30 Beta Shift

Max is comfortable. Comfortable in the Big Chair next to the Really Big Chair, comfortable on his new ship, comfortable in his life as a Lieutenant Commander in Star Fleet. His rise through the ranks of various Ops departments made for an easy transition to the XO position and though he's only been on board for a week, he has already fallen into a comfortable, respectable pattern. With the new mission orders in hand and Starbase 343 in the wake of the big Nova Class—a ship that's so new, Lt. Cmdr. Cole has found himself making the same disastrous joke over and over again these past few days wherein he can see his own reflection in the carpet—the first officer of the USS George Washington Carver is finalizing preparation for their first fully attended staff meeting. Captain Rouhani had set the meet for 0800 and that meant that Max would get very little sleep before attending, let alone time in the morning to make sure all of the departments had their mission details and marching orders in hand for review before the debriefing.

Pausing in his work long enough to look up at the central viewscreen, and subsequently the back of Ensign Soah's brown-haired head, Max considers his new captain in terms of how she might approach this upcoming meeting. Elizabeth Rouhani has proven herself to be about as even-keeled a person as anyone Maximus has ever encountered and he can't see her showing even a little excitement at the prospects their year-long mission present. Considering the many interactions he's had with her over the past week, he feels pretty confident that she'll be very matter-of-fact and all business; which means that her department heads had better have their ducks in a row. Dropping his eyes from the blurred starfield, the Starfleet officer returns them to the screen embedded in the smooth console separating the Captain's Chair from the First Officer's. He hasn't quite yet decided if he likes Captain Rouhani or if he's indifferent towards her. So far, all of their interactions have been the business of putting the Carver right and there's been little to none of a social nature.

Stalling before pressing a command to bring up the latest Engineering report, Max wonders, I don't even know if she's married, has children, a family... I do like Bruno, though. Of that, I'm certain. Pressing the button, he begins scanning the information presented by the Chief of Engineering. 

A year is a long time, especially within the confines of a starship. The Carver is a large vessel as far as starships go, but eight decks are eight decks and though 263,160 cubic meters sounds like a lot of space... Max's experience aboard other vessels is that there will be a fair share of personnel issues within short order and having a Vulcan Ops officer will certainly make things all that much more interesting. Sure... let's put the unfeeling in charge of the masses. 

Okay... that's interesting... Engineering is reporting a problem with the gravity stabilizer on a portion of Deck 3 near the Transporter Buffer Compartment. New ships. Reading further in the report he compartmentalizes his thoughts and partially continues his internal dialogue. 

If truth be told, the jury's still out on his opinion of the crew in general. It takes some time to earn his trust and respect; definitely more time than a week. The Chief Tac Officer, Mister Thomas Stark, is very much a man of the file (Doesn't like the rank part)—Six hours! When was this report filed? Scanning back to the top of the digital document, Max registers the time. Should be coming up on completing that repair.

"Cole to Engineering," he intones.

(OOC: Assuming someone answers...)

"Please report on the situation on Deck 3."

(OOC: Answer...)

"Understood. Let's make sure that whole thing is put to bed before the captain rises from hers. Thank you."

Turning his attention to the Asst. Chief Operations Officer manning the forward Ops station, Max orders, "If necessary, please make sure that Engineering has access to whatever replicator patterns they need and the resources to make the repairs happen cleanly."

The order is most likely unnecessary, but Max is a detail-oriented individual and just because someone holds rank and position doesn't always mean they've earned it. Where was I? Oh, ya. Stark. The man seems to take issue with officers in general from what Max has noticed. But how he would get along with the Vulcan, Siric, was yet to be tried. Let's just hope that we don't have to find that out in the heat of things.

Setting the Engineering report aside (figuratively), Max pulls up his message center and sends a quick reminder to Lt. Stark.

Mister Stark,

Consider a collaborative report with other department heads for off priority scenarios. These odd situations should be accounted for in all departments and should include Security especially within Science and Engineering. I've read about and seen far too many anomalies that occur to dismiss the possibility. Obviously, we cannot predict the future but must concern ourselves with preparation and readiness all the same. If you have time, the report would be handy to have for the staff meeting tomorrow morning.

Lt. Cmdr. Cole

Rereading the missive, he considers the necessity for such an order and decides on better being safe than sorry. Perhaps, with the pending staff meeting, the senior officers are all awake at this hour working on their various reports. Sending the suggestion, the XO pulls up the Engineering report again, finishing it in short order and only momentarily considering the hiccups the crew has experienced thus far and what might be waiting for them so close to enemy space.

Science vessels strolling through Federation Wilds. What could go wrong? At least one of those vessels is captained by a scientist and likely both are. Max has already been witness to the influence Lieutenant Roseangela McGinty has in regards to the Carver and is making no mistake about the priorities of the ship. Science first and foremost with all other considerations relegated to afterthoughts and afterthoughts are his responsibility. Roseangela is a nice woman. Kind, generous with her care, and an easy ear for those prone to such a thing. Cole has heard nothing but positive from the crew that he's caught gossiping. Again, he hasn't spent a good deal of time with her so everything he understands is circumspect.

I've got to admit, he muses, I've not really taken the time to get to know the rest. I should have but I've just been so damn busy. There are still so many among the officers and crew that he needs to get to know; so many personnel files to review. Four and a half hours left. Let's see what I can get through tonight.

This is awesome! Can't wait for the watch schedule tool!

What are the captain's orders concerning Bridge command? On some ships, the Captain and XO stand overlapping watches and on others, they share Alpha... still on others, Captain has Alpha and XO has Beta. Just seeking some understanding as to the staffing requirements.

You da man! I do need to update his shirt to red. Consider it done... will take me a couple of minutes max.

Sorry to do this, but I am withdrawing from this ship. I hope it does eventually take off.

As the Hexatris isn't leaving dock, I'm transferring Lieutenant Commander Maximus Hendal Cole to the George Washington Carver as XO. Thanks for the invite, Crowe.

Olan, is there an easy way to transfer the roster data, or should I just copy and paste the whole thing?

So... Is this ship gonna fly?

I'm looking for a player to take over the following characters:

Vegas: Professionally partnered with Casino, Vegas is a gun for hire and the accepted "leader" of this group of edgerunners. He's had his face sculpted to look like Frank Sinatra and often will sing his songs or dance as Frank would. Casino is his best friend and practically his brother.

Echo: A displaced nomad who has been run out of her pack when she was falsely accused of stealing. She grew up the daughter of a wealthy corporate manager but he killed himself and she went to live with her mother who was a nomad. She's been flirting with Casino and it appears to be reciprocated though it's only been a few hours at it. She's one of the four "muscle" in the group.

I've decided I'm going to continue to NPC Blossom. Being a netrunner in a PBP game is difficult. If you're interested, let me know. I've got their character sheets I can share with you and I run the game on Roll20.net for maps and dice rolls.

The game is updated. 

I stopped where I did for those inside the building in case there are any objections to the stealing. 

Keeper, Ghlahn's in a bit of trouble. Please provide me with the following scenarios as you post: 

1. How he's going to attempt to avoid the security team if he is even going to try.


2. If he's engaging with the security team (I realize he doesn't know numbers yet) then what his plan of attack is.


3. What's his plan of defense if needed?


4. What's his full retreat plan, if needed?


5. If he's going to attempt a non-combat solution, how you hope to play that out.

Espatier, you can role-play out some Streetdealing and make a roll if you'd like. We can work all of that out through PM.

The Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building - 8th Floor | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 3:10 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

The card scanner is a standard IR reader. A user would hold their card up to the flat panel and the device would read the imprinted code on the company issued card. If the code matches the records, the door is unlocked, if it doesn’t, the door isn’t unlocked. The only way that the alarm might be triggered is if the door is opened without the sensor being properly triggered. Further visual scanning of the doorframe results in no additional security that the Techie can see.

Leaving the two soldiers to peer through the door, Bloodbank peers further down the hallway, looking for any signs that would indicate the HR offices or other readily available security equipment. If they are lucky, HR will be clearly marked and they can just sneak in, get the info, and then sneak out in little to no time. Bloodbank doesn’t think that they are going to be that lucky, but he can only hope.

Retrieving his cardlock decryptor from his bag, Fixer detaches the wireless faux security card and holds it up in front of the lock. The thin box in his left hand comes alive with a series of numbers and symbols flashing across the simple screen. Eventually, the word SUCCESS is displayed, followed by the satisfying click of the door unlocking. Rising to his full height and sliding the card back into the box, he returns the device to his pocket and steps aside for the muscle.

Vegas waits just long enough for the Techie to move aside before pushing the door open a crack and peering inside. Nodding his head, he proceeds inside the room and steps aside to hold the door open for the others. Echo follows closely behind and peels away from him to the opposite side so as to provide additional cover.

Cutting across the hall, Blossom follows the others into the dark room. Where the hallway is lit, this area remains in the dark and she immediately decides that the lights are either on a timed system or manual. Doesn’t matter, she thinks. Don’t need no lights to do my thang.

Cubicles fill the chamber providing each human drone a cramped two to two and a half meter square space to be themselves. While Blossom can see over the top of the cubicles for a ways, she quickly loses that advantage due to her height, but she doesn’t see the need to go far. Stepping into the first cube, the little Asian drops into the black generic office chair and draws out another interface cable. Attaching one end to the port in her right wrist, she quickly places the other end in the magnetic slot on the desktop machine.

There’s no physical keyboard for her to operate and though there’s a screen, it hangs from the felt-lined wall to the right and is used to share her view with those in the cubicle if she so desires. She doesn’t, so the magic she works inside the system is purely private.

While she performs the Miracle of the Day, Vegas glances back to where Casino is standing at the door, vigilant as always. Something’s up with him, he frowns. He’s been off for hours. There’s not much the Frank Sinatra look-alike can do about it now but worry, and he’s been doing that pretty much since he met the big guy. Of course, one does that with family and he considers the solo his brother more than any blood relation.

Nerves aren’t needed and Echo knows it. The problem with knowing and doing is that one is harder than the other and the nomad is feeling really pent up—clausterphobic even. Years riding with her pack and all of her previous years of luxury are a fading dream. She can’t help it. Being inside too long tends to be difficult for her. Turning her gaze towards the looming shadow in the doorway, Echo feels a nervous fluttering in her stomach and chest. Who is he really? She wonders. Why does he make me feel this way? Lust, maybe? He’s not unattractive if a little chiseled. Resisting the urge to physically shake her head, the young woman forces herself to continue to look about for any danger that might present itself.

“Got it,” Blossom whispers excitedly. “Let’s blow this joint.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Vegas comments just as quietly. “Grab a few of those computer boxes and be quick about it. That Charlie was onto something when he gave us the idea.”

Nodding, Blossom immediately starts the process of unplugging the device she’d just plugged herself into. Echo moves to the next cubicle and begins to do the same. Vegas, meanwhile, continues to stand watch.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:15 AM PST)

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 03:03 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

The engine of the BTR-15 APC turns off and the sounds of the street permeate the air. Then, from behind him, lights play over the ground, pass under the vehicle he’s beneath, play across his left shoulder and bicep, and then move on. Someone is using a flashlight and scanning the garage. With his enhanced hearing, M'harú Ghlahn can hear booted soles on the cement… three, maybe four people.

So far so good. The crowd disperses without incident and the security forces seem to be content. But, after some time, Ghlahn notices some flashes of lights and hears the tromping of boots. He can’t think of any good outcomes from meeting the owners of the boots, so carefully gathering his gear, he looks for an opportunity to sneak away. He is ready to fight if he needs to but he prefers to avoid drawing attention to himself.

Pushing himself out from underneath the car, he takes his bag and slowly slips its strap over his shoulder. Still gripping his Nomad rifle in hand, the Cee-metal soldier creeps towards the end of the adjacent vehicle and peeks around the corner of the molded bumper. Judging from the play of the lights on the walls and cars, he estimates a potential time to move and darts away from the flashlights.

“Hey!”

Ghlahn realizes just as he reaches a full sprint that his calculations were off. He’s been spotted. Guessing the layout of the building, he can safely assume that the security team has two directions from which they can approach; the one behind him and the one he is running towards. Somewhere in between those two areas he might get lucky and come across an elevator or stairwell, otherwise, he’s going to have to go through the fence and out of the building, essentially learning to fly, or face the music.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 03:04 AM PST)

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the Long Mile Fueling Station | SanFran Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 2:30 AM PST --- Weather Conditions: High City (heavy rain, 20mph winds from the N.) | Midcity (light rain, 10mph winds from the N.) | Undercity (fog and drizzle, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 15 | Midcity = 36 | Undercity = 86 (masks required - Red warning)

Now’s also a good time to put some work in. Though the air jeep isn’t outfitted with self-driving capabilities, Cred Stick Charlie can make calls and do some audible learning from his Chinese textbooks to prep for Monday’s challenges. He might even be able to connect with some of those “Vendors” on the Dark Web concerning blank shoes. Researching the identity printer further would require more attention than he can safely devote while driving, but these other things, he might be able to work out.

Charlie slips his agent from his breast pocket and mentally opens the reading app. He’s already queued up the textbooks that he’s been studying and as the auto-driver on the jeep takes control, the fixer preps for Monday’s challenges. After another hour of reading, he switches gears and spends some time inquiring in more detail about blank shoes in bulk on the Dark Web. His usual sites are where he strikes first. Time to Streetdeal.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 3:30 AM PST)

I've posted for Asovil.

Stardate 2365.02.19 (Friday - 42165.7)
USS Peregrine; Science Lab 1, Deck 3 – 15:40

/= You have twenty-minutes until your staff meeting, Lieutenant Sh’iraolnas. /=

Blinking away the intense strain afflicting her vibrant eyes, antennae flicking in mild frustration, Asovil allows the PADD to drop from her hands and clatter on the desktop a mere couple of millimeters below. Pressing the palms of her hands into her sockets, she purses her lips and breathes in deeply through her nose.

“Thank you, computer,” eventually rolls from her tongue along with the hot air from her lungs. Rolling the grip tension has on her shoulders from the muscles she asks, “What meeting?”

/= You set a reminder to alert you twenty minutes before the Captain’s Staff Meeting. /=

Oh! Yes. That meeting.

Glaring at the PADD, she glances towards the paper notebook she had replicated and the delicate looking spindle pen. This whole paper would be so much simpler to write if I had a computer that wasn’t compromised. The captain had been back in command for close to an entire shift and still hadn’t approached her about the potential security breach. The chance that the report was mysteriously eliminated from existence again just wasn’t an option. She had stopped submitting those when it became apparent that whoever was behind this sabotage wasn’t going to allow the report to exist. Instead, she had verbally relayed the instance directly to Tochi and she cannot imagine he hasn’t relayed the events to Captain Drake by now. Even amongst the hubbub of departing Starbase 118 and the admission of the new crew, surely a security risk is worth some investigation.

Perhaps he’ll bring it up in the meeting… Rising, she tugs at the hem of her top, a subconscious move to straighten her uniform after being seated for an extended length of time. Returning a critical gaze to her PADD screen, she sighs—an affectation she’s picked up from her time among Terrans—and abruptly snatches it from the smooth, reflective desk as she practically stomps towards the door.

Passing through the portal, she barely spares a glance for the lab before bringing the screen to life. Before her eyes, Ensign Maize’s proposed adjusted schedule appears. For whatever reason, she has suggested that Asovil spends all of Alpha Shift at Science Conn 1 on the Bridge. There are a lot of people on the Bridge and though she can still develop and run her simulations further pursuing the subject of Dark Matter and its uses aboard a Federation vessel, it can be wholly distracting.

Unintentionally ignoring the salutes of a couple of crewmen as she steps into the hall, the tall Andorian woman instinctively turns towards the turbolift. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she registers how strange it is that she’s been on board for such a short duration and still, her subconscious has accepted the ship as Home and built a memory map of the locations she visits most.

There is nothing wrong with this schedule, she mentally huffs, striding forward with rigid antennae and a placid look upon her beautiful, alien face despite the annoyance she feels inside.

Stepping into the turbolift once the doors part and she’s admitted, Asovil turns her back on the remainder of the chamber and scrolls down to the “reasoning” portion of her subordinate’s proposed schedule.

Petty Officer Crane is still enduring her punishment and won’t be a contributing part of the crew for a number of days yet, but this is something that Dalia appears to have considered. Once Lauren is returned to active duty, she’ll be able to spell Maize in Sci Lab 1 which will free Dalia up to occasionally take Asovil’s place on the Bridge on occasion—the barely perceptible sensation of her stomach lurching as the lift rises is brushed off like an Andorian Licefly—which will provide the Chief Science Officer with some much needed, uninterrupted lab time.

“Seven days…” she whispers and lifts her head to stare at the plain tan of the lift door interior. Returning to the PADD screen, she uses her thumb to press the acceptance reply and the screen immediately switches off as she shifts her digit to that option.

Shoving the thoughts on her department into a mental filing cabinet, she sets her brilliant mind to the task of predicting the future. What could this mission be about…?

I smelt a trup... er, trap, too! Anyway, thank you for your patience, folks. I have posted.