Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery, captain's ready room - 0830
Captain Noah Blair sat straight-backed in his chair as he reviewed the morning's reports. Refit and repairs were coming along precisely on schedule; he grinned, realizing that his XO would, if possible, derive even more satisfaction from that fact than would the captain himself. The Discovery had been moored here at Starbase 128 for twelve days, and Noah was well aware that he wasn't the only member of her crew who was itching to get back underway.

The comm sounded, interrupting the work at hand.

Lieutenant Ames' voice sounded over the channel. =/\\=Bridge to Captain Blair.=/\\=

"Blair here," Noah responded.

=/\\=A message for you from Admiral Wellenberg.=/\\=

Our new orders, one would presume? "I'll take it in here, thank you." Blair answered.

Momentarily, a weathered face and greying dome appeared on the Captain's console.

"Noah, good to see you again," the admiral greeted warmly.

"You too, sir. I trust that Janice and the kids are well?" Blair replied.

The two exchanged a few more pleasantries before business became the priority. "Noah, I have bad news for you, but good news for one of your men. I'm taking one of your best officers - Starfleet would like for Commander Gavison to take command of the USS Charon. I regret the haste; the man deserves a full ceremony with all of the trappings and pomp that go along with a promotion to captain, but his new vessel is needed back in service immediately."

Noah felt a momentary twist in his gut, but it quickly subsided. Kelsey Gavison had always been a superb officer; this eventuality was merely a matter of time. He'd miss the big man, but he couldn't begrudge him this honor so richly deserved.

"Aye, sir, I understand," Noah replied. "Any word on who his replacement will be?"

Admiral Wellenburg shook his head. "I know that the orders have been filed, but I am honestly unaware as to who has been assigned to the post. I understand that you are scheduled to remain at Starbase one twenty eight for two more days."

Noah nodded. "Aye, sir. Everything is right on schedule."

Wellenburg frowned as he stared down at a readout on his own terminal. "That's odd. I see that your replacement is due prior to your departure, but the request is incomplete - I do not have the new commander's name or serial number."

How strange. "No matter, Admiral - I'm sure that we will be acquainted soon enough," Noah replied.

"Indeed," Wellenburg spoke by way of reply. "Give my best to Captain Gavison. Godspeed to you on your own upcoming missions."

Blair dipped his head in acknowledgement. "Thank you sir. The same to you."

Momentarily, the admiral's face disappered, leaving the Starfleet Command logo behind. Noah smiled and tapped his commbadge.


******************************

Gavison had been surprised by the announcment, but he shook off Blair's apology as to the lack of a formal ceremony. "What difference would it make?" he had asked. "This way, we don't waste half a day shaking hands and posing for photo ops."

Blair couldn't help but grin - the man was largely right. Still, he insisted on giving Kelsey what recognition he could. Noah keyed the comm and addressed the entire ship.

"Now hear this. As of 0845 this morning, Kelsey Porter Gavison has been promotoed to the rank of Captain, on the authority of Admiral Thomas Wellenburg, and will immediately assume the command of the USS Charon. On behalf of the entire crew of the USS Discovery, I wish to extend him our gratitude for his exemplary service, and we send our warmest wishes for the safety and success of his future endeavors."

And then, it was simply a matter of packing bags, filling out the appropriate transfer orders for Sherry (as if Noah would allow the man's wife and child to remain behind), and seeing him off.

Less than three hours after the orders came in, the Charon was already underway, assigned to an escort mission some light years away.

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Sickbay – 1015

One hour and fifteen minutes after Doctor Solkar had come aboard, and the sickbay already looked like a mess.

No patients were currently being cared for, and the only soul on duty was Nurse David Howard, a dark-haired man who had followed Solkar around in a panic, aghast at the apparant vandalism that the new CMO was wreaking upon the sickbay, and insisting that he report to the Captain at once. Solkar said nothing as he carefully re-arranged the position of every piece of medical equipment in the room. Once he had finished, he turned to the other man (who had now seated himself on the end of a bio-bed to calm his nerves) and spoke.

"Nurse Howard."

"Yes Doctor," he replied getting to his feet warily."

"I do not want to you be under the impression that I am unwilling to receive input from junior officers."

"I... I won't be sir."

"However, should you choose to spend the entirety of one hour and fifteen minutes criticising my conduct again, I will have no option but to resort to disciplinary action."

"I... yes sir. I understand."

"Please, observe the new arrangement of the sickbay."

Nurse Howard stared around at the chaos, uncomprehending.

"It's not going to stay like this, is it?"

"Certain details may be altered in future, but the general layout will persist."

"But... but why?"

"Do you see that blood-gas infuser there?" Solkar pointed to a small piece of technology that was adorning the floor beside a stack of hyposprays.

"Yes sir."

"It is placed directly beside the standard beam-in sit for emergency medical transports. Should an crewman develop respiratory imbalance during an away mission, he or she would be transported there, whereupon he or she could be immediately fitted with the device. Placing it in the normal storage locker would add unneccesary seconds onto this process, which in an emergency situation could entail the loss of a life. Do you now understand my logic?"

"I... yes sir. I guess this isn't what I'm used to sir."

"I have read your service record Ensign, you have spent the last ten years of your life aboard starships. Surely you are 'used to' having very few constants in your life?"

"Yes sir, but the ones I have give me comfort."

"Then I apologise for depriving you, but the dictates of logic override the need for comforts."

"Of course sir."

Solkar hung up his medical coat in his office and allowed himself to zone out for a few seconds, processing everything that had just happened. Then he walked towards the door, his eyes re-invigorated with purpose.

"I am now to report to the Captain, the sickbay is yours Nurse."

"Yes sir," Nurse Howard waited until Solkar had left before adding. "Blasted Vulcans."

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Cmdr. Kennedy’s Quarters – 0730
=/\\=
Communications: Universal Translator Update received from Starfleet.
Inputing new data.
Testing – 2368.04.11 0900

Propulsions: All systems operational.
Plasma Conduits in process of cleansing.
Estimated completion – 2368.04.12

Maintenance: Repairs to Medical Exam Room 2B completed.
Inspection of Bridge completed – passed inspection

Systems: Starfleet contacted concerning replicator ‘Cocoa’ problem.
No other reported cases.
Further investigation in progress.

Computers: Voice Command malfunction of 3 Turbolift cars detected.
Cars pulled from use until repairs completed.

Weapons: Photon Torpedo exchange running smoothly.
New procedures and guidelines being reviewed for Mark VI Torpedo.
=/\\=

Cmdr. Kennedy read over the report that MeCall had sent to her a few minutes ago. Nodding to herself she looked it over again as she started working out some details.

She put down the PADD and leaned back in her chair. There was half an hour until she began her shift and McCall, punctual as always, had sent her the report to make sure she was up to date before her shift began.

Even at this hour in the morning a heavy base made the coffee sitting next to her ripple. With a sigh she picked up the coffee and took a sip while she collected her thoughts. The coffee only made her remember the ‘Cocoa Disaster’ though.

Cocoa! They are worried about the cocoa not tasting right, being too bitter. Chocolate was bitter! If it wasn’t bitter there was too much sugar in it. Cocoa!
I’ve got turbolifts sending people to the wrong destination and new photon torpedos to install and they’ve got me running around chasing after cocoa!

I just hope that those torpedos work like Federation says they will. If we get into a situation where we need them and we end up spraying a bird of prey with cocoa instead of 16 levels of whoop *** I’m going to kill someone.
Kennedy shoved up from her chair, setting down the coffee only half drunk. The red boxers with a black skull and cross bones stitched across the backside and the black tank-top were quickly exchanged for the ever impressive gold and black uniform. At her dresser the familiar clink of metal on metal rang out in the room as she carefully removed silver barbells and hoops from her face and ears. Running a comb through her hair she looked at her reflection for a moment. She had once been striking, not soft and beautiful, but striking with firm features that would cause men to look at her twice and then wonder if they should have. Now she was getting older, crow’s feet creeping up around a pair of eyes that had taken on an icy coolness to them over the years. She was still striking she supposed, but one those women that younger men would call ‘good looking for her age.’ Shaking her head she grabbed the tool belt off a hook near the door and slung it around her hips. The PADD slipped perfectly into one of the pockets on the belt and she hit the button next to the door and waited for it to slide open.

She had a job to do. First stop: Torpedo Bay 1.

On the way she pulled out the PADD again and sent a report to the Captain:

=/\\= All systems operational and ready for launch. Latest Universal Translator Programming installing today. Inspection of ship proceeding as scheduled, minor repairs being done. Voice Command malfunction with Turbolift identified and being repaired. New Mark VI torpedo’s installing. Scheduling joint briefing for TAC and Engineering to go over new procedures. – Cmdr. Kennedy, CEO =/\\=

Then another to Lt. MacTavish:
=/\\= Mark VI torpedo’s are in. Need to schedule briefing for TAC and Engineering to go over your new ‘toys.’ – Cmdr. Kennedy=/\\=

Cocoa?! she shook her head again and then told the engineers who had snapped to attention when she approached the Torpedo Bay to return to ‘as they were.’ Smiling she slipped an earpiece over her left ear and ran a hand down the smooth outer casing of one of the warheads.

“Alright boys, let’s get these beauty’s put into their homes…” she ordered while the loud guitar of ‘Killer Roses’ wailed into her ear.

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Lt. Leiran's Quarters - 0615
Rena stirred amidst the darkness, curled up against her blankets discarded next to her, making her bed have the vague likeness of a kitten basket. It was a habit she picked up when she was very little, which she never grew out of. Her eyelids flickered as she slept, until her eyes snapped open. She nearly screamed, but managed to diminish it into a barely audible hiss. Her left hand had gone to her right shoulder, which felt like it was burning. She winced a moment, before it subsided. She turned on the lights, and checked the clock. 0615.

Well, at least it's not too far from when I normally get up. She thought to herself.

Phantom pain. That's what her mother, a doctor, said it was. Yet, even in this day and age, it was difficult to distinguish whether it was actually caused by malfunctioning nerves, or whether it was simply caused by the mind's own handiwork. She carefully took the long, shoulder-length glove off of her right arm. Instead of an arm, what she had was a mechanical skeleton of one, as she had lost her own. Her eyes narrowed slightly. There was no more motivation needed than to look at her own arm for what she sought.

She got out of bed, her feet both giving a metallic thunk each time they hit the floor. Soon enough, the metallic sounds disappeared after she showered and put on a pair of padded socks. She then put on her gloves, and her uniform, before checking herself in the mirror. She looked young for her age, probably a trait she inherited from her mother. She wouldn't call herself beautiful, however; just young. Still, that was enough for her; she didn't need makeup, and she didn't like to draw as much attention as she once did anyway. However, her mismatched eyes, her right violet, and her left blue-green, likely drew some attention anyway.

The last thing she put on was her visor, which attached to the spot where her right ear would've been, and to a point just above her left ear. The front part of the visor went over her forehead, so worked as a hairband as well to keep her long dark hair back. There was a part that went around the back of her head, but that was more of a counterbalance to offset the slight weight of the front portion. An opaque piece with a wide lens extended down in front of her face, hiding her eyes and nose from view. As the screen in front of her eyes turned on, providing visual relay so she could still see, she went over to the replicator for her breakfast.

"Hot cocoa, and toast with almond butter and strawberry jam, please." She said after activating it with her left hand.

Within a moment, her breakfast appeared on a tray, which she brought over to her table. She took a sip of her cocoa, and grimaced slightly.

Still bitter... She thought to herself, Maybe I should put in another file, although we always feel a bit guilty about it... Cmdr. Kennedy already has enough on her plate, including the occasional tune up for my prosthetics...
Rena blinked. Wait... we? She sighed, Sheesh, I still do that sometimes.
As she finished her breakfast, she brought up the text file on her visor that she had written her schedule (well, more like a to-do list) on.

04.10
-Testing of Class IV Probes 5-8
-Testing of experimental Xi D-Type Probe
-Ask Cmdr. Kennedy regarding an appointment for next tune-up
-If testing is completed, forward the results in a report to the Captain
"Right." Rena murmured, her visor retracting into its headband, "Let's do the more crucial ones first."

Almost as an afterthought, she put on her 3' heels, and left her quarters, bound for one of the several Science Bays...

Stardate: 2368.04.10 Starbase-Ensign Warwick's temporary quarters-0500
Yay! New ship! New ship! Ensign John Warwick sang to himself as he flew out of bed. He put on his nicely pressed uniform that he laid out the night before then realized he hadn't showered. After the shower he reapplied the uniform combed his hair straight back then parted it and combed the front part forward to give himself some bangs. Then grabbing his bags Ensign Warwick left his temporary quarters hopefully for a long time with his thoughts on the Galaxy class warp drive. John made his way to the transporter room 3 (or as he liked to think of it the teleporter room.)

“One to beam up to USS Discovery.” John said as he entered the room displaying complete calm even though inside he was tapping a jig.

“Aye sir.” The Transporter chief replied and began to type in the instructions. “They’re ready for you.”

“Thank you.” John hopped onto a pad. “Engage.” Despite John’s love of technology the transporter was one he never really got used to. It made him feel like ants were crawling on him. Still it beat shuttlecraft in overall efficiency, so he used it. Aboard the Discovery John looked around like a new born baby. The Galaxy class ship had space John couldn’t deny that. With a nod to the Discovery’s transporter chief Ensign Warwick hopped off the transporter pad strolled into the corridor and started whistling Beautiful Love. According to the specs John had read on the Galaxy class the engineering was on deck 36.
But maybe I should set my stuff in my room first. John thought as he realized where he was going. Let’s see the crew quarters are on deck…I don’t remember.
“Computer where are crew quarters?” John queried aloud.

=/\\\\=Crew quarters are on decks 2, 3, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11...=/\\\\=

“Uhh.. Thank you computer.” John blinked. That many huh
“Computer where is Ensign John Warwick’s quarters?”

=/\\\\=Ensign John Warwick is assigned crew quarters on deck 3 room 3=/\\\\=

“Thank you again computer” John sighed and walked to the turbo lift. Upon reaching the turbo lift John found an out of order sign taped to the lift’s door. Not very promising John spun around and headed for the another turbo lift. This one was operational.

“Deck 3” The turbo lift began moving, though the only indication of this was the pulsing light, he ride was smooth. Walking out onto deck 3 John found his room quickly as it was right in front of him. He walked in and looked around. It seemed his roommate hadn’t arrived yet so he had the option of choosing which side was his. He chose the right side by slinging his bags onto the bed.

“Computer what time is it?” John queried.

=/\\\\=The time is 0700=/\\\\=
0700 huh I have an hour before shift starts. Might as well check in so I can start working on that hour. John took one last look at his new domain and stalked out.

“Deck 36” He told the turbo lift. This time the ride was short.
Deck 36 was a marvel to Ensign John Warwick. Though you couldn’t see the warp core from the turbo lift you could hear it. The entire deck was engineering and John loved engineering. He managed to resist pirouetting and instead with a calm exterior (and dancing interior) Ensign Warwick strode purposefully o the chief engineer’s officer and rang the chime.

OOC…Assuming she invites me to enter

“Ensign Warwick reporting for duty sir.” John said as he came to Starfleet’s version of attention.

Stardate: 2368.04.10 - USS Discovery, Main Engineering - 0830
“Lieutenant N’Doog. You have been working for 14 hours with no rest or nutrition. Your shift ended 6 hours ago. Return to your quarters and get some rest.”

“No can do dude” Lt. Bob N’Doog answered without turning his head. He knew by the voice and tone it was Z’var, a fellow engineer. “Got me four more of these mem-mods to link for Shelia, then it’s snoozeville, population – me.

“I can complete the memory upgrade if you wish.”

Bob’s hands moved fast across the touch pad, blurring even to the superb vision of the Vulcan. “Whoa! Kudos dude, but no thanks. When it comes to Shelia’s greys, I want to be the guy on the fly with his hands in the pie, if you catch my meaning.”

Z’var thought for a moment, “You have a personal sense of pride when dealing with the ship’s computer. I can respect that.”

“Glad to hear our waves are rolling on the same peaks dude. Excuse a sec.” Bob finished the final entry and looked upwards “Shelia? How you doing?”

“Operating at normal parameters.” The vaguely feminine voice of the ship’s computer answered.

“Excellent! Gonna drop another, but watch those levels because the last was too close. Back off another ten on get go.”

“Understood. Decreasing startup sequence power level by ten percent.”

Z’var shook her head, “It is not logical to call the ship’s computer ‘Shelia’. It is not an entity, it is a machine.”

“Whoa dude. Don’t be saying that. She didn’t mean that Shelia!” Bob turned to look at his companion, “Don’t Diss my lady dude. Not cool. Dig?”

Z’var stepped back, “No disrespect meant Lieutenant. And may I remind you, my name is Z’var – not dude”.

“If I ain’t calling you dude, I ain’t respecting you.” Bob said with a chuckle and turned back to his control panel. “Okay Shelia. Hit me with your best shot, in the pot, and show me what you got. One more 100 googalbyte module coming at ya.”

“Initializing Memory Archive sequence” The computer responds

Shelia gets me

Stardate: 2368.04.10
Cmdr. Kennedy - Forward Photon Torpedo Launch Bay 0807
The computer had no doubt told Ensign Warwick that Cmdr. Kennedy was currently on Deck 25. When he arrives there he will find her overseeing those pretty new torpedo’s into their homes. Two other boys in gold are working under her. She is bent over one of the torpedo’s her lips moving along with a song he can’t hear, her fingers moving over the panel on the top of it.

When he speaks she looks up, those sharp hazel eyes falling on the freshly pressed image of Ensign Warwick.

“Ensign Warwick reporting for duty sir.” John said as he came to Starfleet’s version of attention.

Dear Lord what have I gotten myself into with this one?
Slowly she stood up, much slower than necessary, leaving the poor boy at attention the whole time. MeCall had mentioned that there would someone new beaming on. She scoured her memory for the information MeCall had sent her on the boy. Then nodded.

“As you were Ensign.” She put her hands on the torpedo and looked over the surface at Warwick.

“Well then, have you gotten settled yet?”

OOC: Assuming he responds positively.

“Good. I assume that since you are reporting for duty that means your rested and ready to actually do some work?”

OOC: Assuming he again responds positively.

“Alright. Well let’s get a few things straight first. Everything that happens to this ship is our business. I’m not here to babysit you. I expect my team to know their jobs and to do them well the first time. If something isn’t done right it puts the rest of the crew in danger. That being said, if you don’t know what you are doing, ask. Ignorance is not an excuse for poor performance. I won’t chew you out for asking, I’ll chew you out for messing something up when you didn’t ask. You do your job and we won’t have any problems. Got it?”

OOC: Waits for response before going on.

“I hear your main focus is warp drives. Currently however we are in dock so there isn’t much use for them. You know anything about these?” She runs her hand almost in a caress down the case of the torpedo.”

OOC: Another pause for his response.

“Alright, well first thing I’d like you to do is come up with a quick briefing about them for Engineering and Tactical. Nothing lengthy or too technical, just the nuts and bolts about how they work and what we are going to benefit from these babies. After that…” She grins brightly, “there is something I’ll need you to look into. How are your taste buds?”

Without waiting for his confused response she moves on, “There seems to be an issue with the replicator. See Chief MeCall for more information, and anything else you need.”

“If there is nothing else… you’re dismissed.”

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery- Deck 36

Ensign Warwick rang the chime again. Still no answer.

"Computer locate Chief Engineer." John said.

=/\\\\= Chief Engineer Kennedy is on deck 25.=/\\\\=
John sighed and hurried to the turbo lift. Now I might be late.
"Deck 25" John ordered the lift. The ride was again short. John paused a moment before stepping out to regather his thoughts then strode into the corridor. "Computer locate where on deck 25 the chief Engineer is."
=//\\=Chief Engineer Kennedy is currently in the armory.=/\\\\=
"Thank you." John walked into the armory. There were several gold uniforms tending to the torpedoes. John assumed some were security and others were engineers. One particularly cute gold uniform with Lt. commander pips was bopping to some tune only she could hear. Since she's the only Lt. Cmmdr. in the room I'm gonna assume thats Lt. Cmmdr. Kennedy John thought to himself as a smile crept along his face. He quickly squashed the smile. No reason to seem unprofessional on my first day.
“Ensign Warwick reporting for duty sir.” John said as he came to Starfleet’s version of attention.

The Commander looked up stared for a moment then blinked. She rose deliberately as if she had a back problem, or was clumsy and didn't want to fall on first impression. John held the attention the whole time only watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“As you were Ensign.” She put her hands on the torpedo and looked over the surface at Warwick. “Well then, have you gotten settled yet?”

"Yes sir, I have." John replied as he relaxed a little.

“Good. I assume that since you are reporting for duty that means your rested and ready to actually do some work?” The Cmmdr.'s tone made John wonder if there were people who wouldn't be ready to work when reporting, and told him that if there were he better not be one of them.

"Of course sir." John replied.

“Alright. Well let’s get a few things straight first. Everything that happens to this ship is our business. I’m not here to babysit you. I expect my team to know their jobs and to do them well the first time. If something isn’t done right it puts the rest of the crew in danger. That being said, if you don’t know what you are doing, ask. Ignorance is not an excuse for poor performance. I won’t chew you out for asking, I’ll chew you out for messing something up when you didn’t ask. You do your job and we won’t have any problems. Got it?” The Commander went through her speal.

"Aye sir." John said.

“I hear your main focus is warp drives. Currently however we are in dock so there isn’t much use for them. You know anything about these?” She runs her hand almost in a caress down the case of the torpedo.

"Just what they taught at the academy, sir. But I'm sure I can learn more." John said looking at the torpedo.

“Alright, well first thing I’d like you to do is come up with a quick briefing about them for Engineering and Tactical. Nothing lengthy or too technical, just the nuts and bolts about how they work and what we are going to benefit from these babies. After that…” She grins brightly, “there is something I’ll need you to look into. How are your taste buds?” Without waiting for his confused response she moves on, “There seems to be an issue with the replicator. See Yeoman MeCall for more information, and anything else you need.”


"I haven't heard anyone complain about them." John replied trying to keep a straight face. "No sir, I need nothing else."

“If there is nothing else… you’re dismissed.” The Chief Engineer returned to her work. John spun around to find a terminal where he could look up info on the torpedoes for his first briefing aboard the Discovery. The best place John thought to find a terminal would be in engineering so that's where he headed.

The specs on the new torpedoes were impressive. With 16 preset levels of adjustable yield a photon torpedo could either damage a ship or vaporize one. As each launcher could shoot a spread of ten torpedoes the Discovery had enough firepower to destroy a planet. Or with the shield capability deal some heavy damage to a sun. And the truly incredible thing was if tactical could set the torpedo to match the frequency of an enemy ship the torpedo would penetrate the shield as if it wasn't there. The downside to all this power though was the torpedo was almost exclusively a long range weapon. with a range of 3,000,000 Kilometers the longer the range the better, as if detonated right next to the ship it had a very real probability of destroying the Discovery along with the intended target.

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Deck 8 – 0750

“I’m telling you, Gann,” the coverall-clad petty officer insisted, glancing over his shoulder at his red-uniformed friend, “I was there. I saw the whole thing happen. Five of ‘em cranking out pushups right there on the deck in Forward Phaser Support and ol’ Mac stomping around and growling at ‘em like a targ with bad case of hemorrhoids the whole time!”

“Yeah,” Gann smirked, leaning against the bulkhead as the engineer returned his attention to whatever it was he was working on behind that access panel, “I’m surprised it didn’t take him longer to snap, to be honest. I didn’t figure it’d take him more than two weeks after Bones left the ship. I don’t think anyone was optimistic enough to even bet on him making it three months.”

The engineer grinned again, looking up from the portal actuation relay he had just replaced. “That’s because most people don’t bother to do their research before placing fool’s wagers,” he said. “Hell, most people wouldn’t even know where to start, I guess. Lucky for me, I happened to stumble upon our TAC Chief’s psych record when I was working a computer interface glitch in the Counselor’s office…”

“You what?” Gann suddenly looked uncomfortable; “Please, Doug, tell me you didn’t read it…”

“Well yeah I read it,” Doug chuckled as he closed the access panel and cued the turbolift doors to ensure replacing the relay had corrected the issue, “You don’t think I just guessed at my slot in the pool, did you? That prize is all mine, Gann, thanks to a little light reading. Turns out Counselor Arevaci made some pretty good headway with MacTavish before he got reassigned – anger management techniques, delving into the crotchety bastard’s ‘inner demons,’ and all that – between all that and the calming down he did after finally marrying Hemlos…” The engineer shrugged and his I’m-so-pleased-with-myself smile got even bigger as he rose to his feet; “Let’s just say that if Mac was to ever try any of that get on yer face an’ push crap with me, I’d…”

Doug noticed, just then, that Gann was no longer leaning casually against the bulkhead and that the other man’s face had gone all ashen and wide-eyed. He was about to ask Gann what was wrong when…

“Ye’d what, haggis?”

Doug’s spine stiffened when Lt MacTavish’s voice sounded directly behind him and the engineer could literally feel the color drain from his own face. Oh Lord! How long has he been there? What did he hear me say? Oh… Lord!
“Sir,” PO3 Doug Brewster gulped as he performed and uneasy about face and came eye to glaring eye with the CTO, “I was just telling Petty Officer Gann that I’d… I’d… uh…”

Mac’s narrowed eyes bored into Brewster’s over the rim of the coffee cup that the CTO had just tipped to his lips.

“…I’d… that I’d…”

One corner of Lt MacTavish’s mouth twitched. “Th’ answer yer lookin’ for,” he growled, “is tha’ ye’d bloody-well get on yer face an’ push, Brewster!”

“Yessir,” Brewster nodded, “Yessir, that’s exac…”

“Now!”

“Aye, sir,” Brewster said, dropping to the deck without further hesitation.

MacTavish’s eyes followed the man for a second, ensuring that the pushups were being executed to his standards, and then lifted to regard the rigid form of Petty Officer Gann. “Should ye nae be inna shootlebay er flight control er sommat, Gann?”

“No sir,” Gann answered, knowing better than to hesitate or even stammer over the response, “My shift ended at oh-six-hundred, sir.”

Jack offered a near-imperceptible nod, tipped the coffee mug to his lips once more, then, as his gaze ticked back to the engineer at his feet; “A’right, lad,” he rumbled, “then ye c’n count oot th’ fifty push-ups fer this haggis an’ then get yer arse of me fargin deck, aye?”

“Aye aye, sir,” Gann responded, instantly moving to stand beside Brewster as Lt MacTavish turned and stomped towards the TAC Office. “Uh… seven, eight,” the flight control PO began, guessing at how many pushups his friend had already done.

“We start countin’ at one, Gann,” the CTO barked before disappearing through the doorway.

“Yessir,” Gann returned.

Brewster’s eyes widened in disbelief and irritation. “Son of a bi…”

“One!” Gann said, hopefully drowning out Brewster’s curse…

((OOC: More to come... figured I'd throw this bit up ahead of finishing the rest just to get Mac going. All due replies will be covered in the next post. ))

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery, Lt. Royal’s Quarters - 0715
Clint Royal sat on the edge of his unkempt bed, feet amidst the swirl of his dresser's contents, which had tumbled from their neatness to the chaos that held sway over his floor. He reclined coolly over the scantily clad mattress, which sported the only blanket he ever slept with, snaking off the bed's end and diving into the pools of clothes that covered the floor. There was no sheet beneath the rough, woolly blanket that had been kicked off the bed days ago in the heat of the night.

The private quarters had passed the last eight hours under the same dull light of dimmed lamps and as it heralded morning it showed no change. The grappling arms of strewn t-shirts slid out across the floor and up and out and over and under the pant legs that lay hollow in the labyrinth of fabric. Socks and underwear poked their noses out of the oblivion fostered beneath the heaps of clean and dirty laundry indiscriminately mingling. Clint's crazy assortment of outfits were spread out over the ground, like a kaleidoscope of his own dizzying array of different appearances.

The dresser stood resolutely, still surviving the onslaught of exiled clothing, though now it was a barren chasm that contained nothing but the last memories of order and its gaping drawers. The top was congruently blank, looking up sullenly and uselessly. The closet door was closed and held in its darkness only shadows, and Clint’s prized possessions, hidden from the lamp light and cherished above everything else.

The stagnant light had witnessed more than the stillness of the room. It had witnessed, in its gloom, the unmoving form of Clint, statuesque in his posture, like a primitive symbol of the ancient gods who the archaic ancestors of humanity had worshipped ritually and piously. The shadowy icon had perched on his own mountain top, staring out in the murk and moving only gentle at different times.

Clint sat in only his loose khaki cargo pants that hung around his ankles gently lapping at his feet, Clint's short body seemed magnanimous, spread out as a deity. Only 5'8", he appeared now to extend on forever in his relaxed position, peering out. His body was rippled and knotted with lean muscle that chased itself up his arms around bone and vein and across his chest, filling his abdomen with a shocking display of physical fitness. It climbed up over his tight shoulders and towards his thin neck that gave way to the face of Clint Royal.

The man had a deceptive face. He was sharply handsome but the appearance could never be poignantly described with one piercing word or another brilliant sentence. In one instant he could have a serene demeanor that allowed his brown eyes to show an immense depth and interest: an introspective intrigue. However moments later his long nose can have a crooked terror to it that strikes out with his pointed jawline and high cheekbones, carrying the burning embers of two eyes dancing with a wrathful flame. In every spot on the spectrum, Clint's face is strikingly attractive and fascinating.

There is purpose now. The thoughts drifted imperceptibly behind the handsome face. Action approached and Clint could smell it, like a wolf stalking its prey, the animalistic yearning filled him. The Desire was entering him again, the need to move, to fight, to act. Now that they were preparing to leave, Clint’s muscles had stiffened with eagerness and his unreadable brown eyes had taken that hungry, wild look of excitement.

The stillness had grated Clint’s nerves, and now there was a great relief that was beginning to wash over him and this satisfaction brought with it bounds of energy. Clint had receded into his silent, unapproachable self over the last weeks and left those on the crew that knew him, wondering wear the madman they knew and loved had gone. Now his whole body buzzed with the Desire again.

Clint found no pleasure in spending idle time with crew mates. He was happy for the rest at first and the chance for true solitude, and the nights of drinks with a couple other members of the crew had been equally enjoyed. But there was nothing that could match the pleasure that he felt when he was active, when he had a purpose. Nothing else could satiate the Desire.

Clint never truly connected with people, it was a fact that was inalienable. Constantly present in his life for the good or for the bad, he knew he was bound to his singularness. He couldn’t deny his love for playing with people however, toying with them. Whether entertaining or terrifying them, he found great pleasure in performing. He felt a cunning power over them, and though he never meant it in a malicious way, he could not stand the idea of being vulnerable or intimate with someone.

Clint mused silently as he leaned over to his end table and plucked an American Spirit from the pack that had accompanied him through the night. He flicked the lighter quickly, a spark shining before the glow of flame rose up sharply. As the tobacco crackled, Clint breathed in slowly, the smoke filling his mouth and shooting down to his lungs before his lips unchained the tube and the white ghosts of smoke slid out in wild rivers that filled the air. He blew out a long cannon of smoke with a smile and leaned back a little farther. The day would be fun. If nothing else, the day would be fun.

OOC: just a short intro post - acquaint everyone with the character. There's more to come... trust me... there's more to come!

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - TAC Office, Deck 8 – 0754


Lt Muller, perched on the edge of the desk currently occupied by Lt Llafet, chuckled almost gleefully; “So, wait… There was actually a pool going? I thought that was just scuttlebutt.”

Brooke shook her head, an amused smile of her own tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Nope,” she said, “all true. It didn’t make it up to the officer-level, of course, but all of the NCOs knew about it.”

“And they were betting on how long it’d take for Mac to stuff someone in a torpedo casing and shoot ‘em at a star or what?”

“Something like that,” Llafet nodded, her attentions returning to the intelligence reports Mac had tasked her with gathering, “First headslap, first time that vein on his forehead popped out more than a millimeter…”

“First dressing down that lasted more than twenty minutes,” added Senior Chief Zamudio from her desk across the room, “first time he snapped and made more than two people push the deck at one time…”

“Oh,” Jeff laughed, “I’d’ve loved to have been the guy to have gotten that one. Who won?”

“Th’ grease-monkeh sniffin’ th’ carpet inna corridor,” Mac answered, shoving his empty coffee cup at the aCTO as he stormed into the office, “Per’aps ye’d care tae sup’rvise.”

“No, Boss,” Muller answered, quickly launching himself off the edge of Llafet’s desk and catching the CTO’s mug as it thunked squarely into his chest, “I was just saying to Lt Llafet that I can’t believe there was an actual pool…”

“Ye got me new rotations, Mueller,” Mac interrupted as he continued on to his own desk and accessed his terminal, “er ‘ave ye been too busy rubbin’ yer arse on Llafet’s desk?”

“Coffee,” Mueller told the replicator, having already returned Mac’s empty to the alcove, “Blue Mountain. Double black.

On your terminal,” he grinned, taking the fresh cup from the alcove and striding towards Mac’s desk, “Coordinated with Cmdr Kennedy this morning and got you the maintenance schedules for the tactical systems for the next sixty days, too.”

Mac nodded his satisfaction as he took the coffee from Muller. “Llafet?”

“Intel reports coming your way, now, sir,” Lt Llafet responded as her final stroke on the LCARS display compiled her efforts and directed them to Mac’s terminal.

“Still,” Mueller grinned as he absently started to settle himself on the edge of Mac’s desk, “You’ve gotta wonder about that pool, Mac. I mean, the crew’s betting on not only when you’re gonna snap but how… you know there’s gotta be folks who have written entire programs just to figure out probabilities and all of that…”

Mac didn’t look up from his review of the intel reports but his gray eyes slid sidelong in Mueller’s direction for an instant. Llafet and Zamudio exchanged half-amused, half nervous glances across the TAC office. Mac’s gaze shifted back to the display.

“… I mean, ‘first headslap,’” Mueller continued, folding his arms and turning his gaze to the ceiling as he contemplated how he would figure the odds on that, himself, “How would you even start to figure that?”

Having reviewed and approved Mueller’s shift assignments, MacTavish sipped at his coffee and glanced at his aCTO again before accessing a message that had just come in from Cmdr Kennedy…

=/\\= Mark VI torpedo’s are in. Need to schedule briefing for TAC and Engineering to go over your new ‘toys.’ – Cmdr. Kennedy=/\\=

… Mac acknowledged receipt of the message as Mueller, rubbing thoughtfully at his chin, let his gaze drift from the ceiling to Chief Zamudio. “In fact, I’d like to know how they figured that out,” he admitted, “Who got that one, Michelle?

Ow!!!”

“Get yer arse off me desk an’ come wi’ me, monkey-boy,” Mac rumbled, smacking the freely-offered back of the junior looey’s head as he swept around his desk and strode for the door. “Tha’ one’s yers, Chief,” he said as he passed Zamudio’s desk, “ping Rrowl, Sode, Uher, an’ Soileau. Tell ‘em ta expect a briefin’ onna new Mk VI torpedoes by ten-hundr’d hours.”

“Aye, sir,” Zamudio replied, an almost embarrassed smile on her face as she started composing the message to the Discovery’s contingent of TAC Officers, “Thank you, sir.”

Mac tapped his combadge as he stomped through the door. “MacTavish ta Cmdr Kennedy,” he said as Mueller caught up to him, “I’d like ta ‘ave a gander a’ th’ new torpedoes ere we schedule a briefin’. I’m enroute ta forward bay one ef ye’d care ta meet me there.”

((OOC: Assuming a response or just an appearance from Callie in a bit…))

“…forty-two, forty-three…” Gann was still counting out a sweating Brewster’s push-ups in front of the turbo-lift doors as Lieutenants MacTavish and Mueller emerged from the office.

MacTavish, of course, didn’t seem to acknowledge the existence of either man, even when he stepped over Brewster to get to the lift. Mueller, on the other hand, couldn’t help but grin as his eyes danced from one NCO to the other…

“First headslap,” he grinned, pointing at the back of his own head as he followed the CTO into the lift, “Chief Zamudio’s got that one, guys…”

“…forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven…”

“Deck 25,” Mac said, ordering the lift to the deck that supported the forward photon torpedo launcher, as Mueller stepped in beside him.

“…twenty-five, twenty-six…”

“Son-of-a-bi…”

Mueller snickered as the door squelched shut and the turbo-lift shot off towards Deck 25. The second headslap hit him at that same instant. “Shutting up, Boss,” he said.

=/\\=Thank you, sir,=/\\= Zamudio’s voice chimed over Mac’s combadge. Llafet could be heard giggling in the background.

“Dinnae mention et, Chief,” Mac replied.

“How’d she do that,” Mueller asked after a moment of stunned silence.

“Th’ lass wagered th’ fairst ‘eadslap’d come immediately after ye said somethin’ stupid, Jeffery,” MacTavish replied as the lift whispered to a stop, “an’ tha’ th’ second’d folla wi’ in five minutes as ye'd be apt ta do somethin' stupid ta spite yerself.”

Mueller look offended at first but, by the time the lift door had whisked open and they stepped into the corridor, he was nodding his head. “Huh,” he shrugged, “sound strategy. Go, Michelle.”

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Valmont, captain's ready room – 06:30
To step into Captain Horatio’s ready room was something of a shock. Being a Morphian, Horatio’s eyes were sensitive to light, hence his need to wear shaded eyewear at all times, but he keep the lighting in his room very low so he could remove his glasses. But there was more to his domain than that; every wall in the room had been lined with interlocking view panels that were directly linked to the Valmont’s sensors. So to walk into the ready room was like stepping out onto a platform in space. Above and all around were the reflections of the vastness that the ship was moving through. It had been a gift of his first officer to set his room up like this, the Domtarian, knowing the Captain’s love for observing space, had worked around the clock to make sure the viewers were integrated seamlessly.

And now, I have to let him go.
“Computer!” Horatio looked up at the star streaking by as they moved at warp, “Where is my First Officer?”

*Bleep* “Commander Avanti is in Jefferies Tube 117, Main Engineering” *Bleep*

“Really. I didn’t think he could fit.”

*Bleep* “Jefferies Tube 117’s structural integrity is at 110 percent. *Bleep*

“Ahh.” Horatio said and took off his shades, then touching his communicator, “Commander Avanti. Could you please report to my ready room. “

=/\\= Avanti sir! I will be there …as soon as I can =/\\=

“Commander…if you break my engines…I’ll take it out of your pay. You know better than to try to get into a Jefferies tube”

=/\\=Acknowledged sir. Just trying to… ack, umm … be right there. =/\\=

Horatio put his glasses back on and activated the personal viewscreen on his desk. There was Avanti’s record of service, all lit up. A first rate line officer, Avanti believed in his people and let them thrive at their jobs without interference or too much direction. He was professional to a flaw, but fiercely loyal to the people that served under him. Never afraid to get his hands dirty, Avanti would work alongside the petty officers and enlisted when the time required it – and the crew respected him for that. The captain mused for a moment and could not remember a time he saw him get angry – at least not at a crew member. When that Ambassador attempted to take the bridge by force, Avanti had become quite enraged, ripping the captain’s chair from its mooring and throwing it across the bridge – with the man in it.

He had more decorations that most Fleet Admirals included the coveted Federation Star. Horatio knew that each medal was reminder to the commander of the people who died, and he carried them all in his heart and on his shoulder. Give them all away if it brought one of them back, he had said once after enough Romulan ale to make a Domatarian tipsy.

*Bleep* The door chimed.

“Come in” Horatio called and the door opened, allowing in the light of the bridge into his sanctuary for a brief moment. Avanti entered the room, and looked around, admiring his handiwork and looking for flaws to fix at the same time.

“You wished to see me Captain.” Avanti came close but did not sit. Horatio didn’t bother asking him anymore.

“Commander Avanti. Do you know…what makes a man?”

Serving on the Valmont for a number of years, Avanti was used to Horatio’s habit of starting conversations with strange questions, “I believe you told me it was the uniform sir.”

Horatio chuckled, “I did?” he removed his shades again and stood up to walk towards the commander. Avanti was 6’7” tall and at least twice as wide as Horatio – he had to strain his neck to look up at him.”Actually … today it comes down to how he pays his debts. How he remembers those that offered a hand when he need one so …he can offer the same one day.”

Avanti looked down, “Sir?”

“Two years ago I pulled some strings Avanti.” Horatio turned to look out over the darkness again. “And a good friend of mind was kind enough to let me take one of his best officers. It’s time to return the favour.”

“I don’t understand sir.”

“Avanti … When are we due on Starbase 128?”

“Two days sir, why do you ask?”

“I want us to be there in one Avanti. Make it so please. I want to meet up with the Discovery that is moored there and awaiting their new First Officer. Congratulations Commander, you have been Transferred to a Galaxy class ship.”

Avanti stepped back, “Discovery? But Gavison?’

“Has a new command – The Charon. Let us face reality Avanti, these Norway class ships are getting old. You and Sango have tweaked this one to its peak but it is …will be in drydock for awhile with a retro fit and upgrades. You need to move on, and I owe Blair for letting me take you when I needed a top rate officer. I assume you want the position?”

Avanti thought about it for a moment. The Discovery was quite a ship and he had served with Blair before. The idea of the challenge appealed to him, not to mention the engines alone were amazing. Things with Sango and him had reached a peak and tapered off to both of their interests. Avanti was more traditional than Ilena would ever be but it had been fun while it lasted. This would create a break without the awkward problem of still working with each other. He stood up straight, “Yes Sir. I do.”

“Well then, take us up to maximum warp. You should have a day to walk about your new home before taking it out for the shakedown cruise.”

“Yes Sir,” Avanti saluted, “And Horatio…Thank you for everything.”

“No Commander.” Horatio turned to look at the big man while putting his shades back on emphatically, “Thank you.”

First Officer Avanti stepped out of the darkness of the ready room and on to the bridge, “Speed!” He called out the nickname of the Helmsman, “What is our speed and ETA on Starbase 128?”

Ensign Alacrity “Speed” Fitzhugh looked over his panel briefly, “Warp 2 sir. ETA is 16 hours.”

“Bring her up to Maximum Warp. Let’s see if we can get an extra day of shore leave for the crew.”

Speed smiled broadly, “Yes Sir! Increasing helm to warp 4.”

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Deck 5, CSO Office - 0715
As Lt. Leiran made her way to her office, she paused and glanced at the door to the science lab on the same floor. Science Lab A.

I wonder what people's reactions would be if I taped a 'No entry without authorization' sign to it... She thought to herself, But then again... that just causes the curious mind to wonder exactly what's in there. I don't even have to have a degree in psych to know that.
Once she made it to her office, she sat down in her chair. She contemplated her computer for a moment. The testing would take place in Science Lab D in 15 minutes...

"Computer, open a line to Science Lab D." Rena instructed.

=/\\=Communications line now open.=/\\=

"Miss Uzuki, are you there?" Rena asked.

=/\\=Yes I am, Lt. Leiran.=/\\= came the reply, =/\\=But there's a problem.=/\\=

"What is it?" Rena asked, her voice betraying her surprise.

=/\\=We're scheduled to test the class IV probes 5-8 right? Well, I'm at the lab... but the probes aren't here. Neither is Mr. Ridley.=/\\=

"That doesn't make sense... I told Allen..." Rena thought aloud for a moment, before replying, "Please wait a moment, Shion."

"Computer, locate Ensign Allen Ridley."

=/\\=Ensign Allen Ridley is currently in Science Lab B.=/\\=

That's strange... what's he doing there? Rena thought to herself, before saying aloud, "Open a channel."

"Ensign Ridley, why aren't you at Science Lab D?"

On the other end, she distinctly heard Allen Ridley jump.

=/\\=Uh, huh? I thought I could finish tidying up the lab here before I headed down in 10.=/\\= She heard his hesitant reply.

"Setting that aside... why aren't the probes at the lab?" Rena asked.

=/\\=The probes? It didn't seem crucial...=/\\=

Rena sighed, "Allen, check your schedule..."

She heard the beeps from the other end as Allen called up his schedule, before she heard him, almost guiltily, say 'Oh...' in realization.

"Allen, I realize that you were only transferred here recently," Rena continued, her voice now more serious than her usual gentle tone, "so you're probably unaware of the manner in which I do things. You've probably found that I'm not as formal as many other officers or lieutenants. However, if I suggest for you to do something, that's usually my way of giving you an order. Not one of the highest priority, but an order nonetheless. If your schedule has a listing upon it in the future about something I ask you to do, chances are it should be done by then. I won't make an official note about it this time, but now you know, so I won't be as lenient the next. Do you understand?"

There was a slightly audible gulp from the other end, before a hastily said 'Y-yes.'

"Good," Rena said, her voice not as serious-sounding, "Now, please get those probes to lab D as soon as you can. Get some of the others to help you if needed. Shion?"

=/\\=Mr. Foreman and I can definitely help. We're not scheduled to do anything else right away anyway.=/\\=

"Very good. Let's try to get at least one probe ready for testing by o'800 hours. I'll come down at that time as well to assist you. Any questions?"

After a pause, and the generic 'no, not really' from both sides, Rena terminated the channels.

"Well, that will offset our testing... by probably an hour at least..." She thought aloud, "That means the Xi Probe will have to wait another day..."

Rena shivered. For some reason, she felt rather uncomfortable and nervous about the probe...

Stardate: 2368.04.10
Cmdr. Kennedy - Forward Photon Torpedo Launch Bay 0810
Kennedy watched as Warwick spun around and headed out. She thought she noticed a slight skip in his step as he went, but she pretended not to even notice that he left.

Don’t be killllllllling my tiiiimme! a voice screamed into her ear piece and then was concluded by the sharp clash of cymbals.

Her fingers moved toward the button that would increase the volume and drown out everything else in the world while she inspected the new circuitry of these lovely torpedo’s when a beep from her combadge stopped her.

The expletive that reached her mind just barely touched her lips as Mac’s voice spoke out.

“MacTavish ta Cmdr Kennedy, I’d like ta ‘ave a gander a’ th’ new torpedoes ere we schedule a briefin’. I’m enroute ta forward bay one ef ye’d care ta meet me there.”

She tapped the gold Fleet symbol on her breast, “Already there and opening up one to get a nice good look…”

A few passes over the control panel on the top of the torpedo casing and it fully disarmed itself.

Safety before all else girl… that way you’ll live to tell someone about what you discovered. Her father’s voice said to her and she could see his big grin under that graying mustache.

Automatically she began to slide the now disengaged casing off the inner workings of the torpedo, but her mind was not fully on it. She was thinking of her father.

Wish your safety had meant more visits to the physician there Pops. Maybe you would have been around for me to tell you about everything I’ve been discovering.
She shook her head for a moment, flipped up the volume on her ear piece and started to dig into the torpedo. It was how she liked to work, alone with the machine she was trying to figure out. One of her faults as a commanding officer was her inability to really teach others what she knew. But she at least recognized this trait and found those under her who had that touch and relied on them to teach their fellow workers.

One of her great skills, though, was knowing every part of this ship. She had worked on a Galaxy Class Starship since she got out of the academy and she had made sure that there was not a bolt or a wire that she was unfamiliar with. With the grace of a lover she now traced over this new technology with her thin fingers. Memorizing the lines of wires, the types of circuit boards, seeing in her mind how the power would incite them all into action. A series of electrical pulses that would drive this weapon, triggers set off along the way until the final conclusion of the act, a spectacular (and destructive) explosion.

She didn’t notice Mac enter the Forward Torpedo bay as she held her breath for a moment and smiled.

“Cmdr Kennedy?”

His voice brought up her head and as the Scot looked at her with a spark of amusement in his eyes she fumbled for half a second, color starting to rise in her pale cheeks but she quickly cleared her throat and beckoned him over.

“Mac… well as I said got her open. Want to take a look?”

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery -HoloDeck 5 – 08:30
Lt. Steward Tier stood outside the building. He quickly checked his weapons under his long coat for the hundredth time. He had type 2 phasers on each hip, a type 3 on his back in easy pull harness, and a Cardassian Phase-disruptor on a strap under his arm.

“Computer! Start security sim 301. Set to level 10”

*Bleep*” Warning. Level ten exceeds the recommended parameters for your race and species”

“Yeah Yeah. Just set the gokk-bonking level to ten. Authorization Omega, 4, 2, Alpha, Tango, 1, 7”

The wind brushed Tiers hair and the people on the street began to move. Here Goes gokk bonking nothing
He picked up the black bag at his side and slowly entered the building through the revolving door. Before him was a security station with four armed guards, a security scanner with a conveyer belt for large objects and a gateway with a metal detector that had to be passed through to get to the lobby. Tier said nothing. He put the bag down on the conveyor belt and stepped through the detector.

*Ding. Ding.* the detector went off as he stepped through. One of the security guards stepped up to him and in a bored voice said, “Could you please remove any metallic items you may be carrying, keys, loose change...

Tier opened his trench coat to reveal the weapons underneath and let it drop to the floor.

“Holy s***! “ The guard exclaimed before Tier quickly struck him hard to the chest with enough force to send him to the ground. He grabbed both of his hand phasers and fired at the two guards on the right, and the one on the floor, killing them before they could draw their weapons.

The fourth guard moved to a place of cover and pulled out a communication device. “Backup! We need Backup”

Tier stepped forward and disintegrated the guard but it was too late. The sounds of footfalls were coming close and fast. The lobby was long and wide, with the elevator he need at the far end and 8 square columns before it, four on either side. Eight heavily armed guards moved in and took up defendable positions along side and behind the pillars for cover.

Four on the left, Four on the right. Come and get me you gokk bonkers.
“Freeze!” One of them yelled emphatically. Tier responded by opening fire with both weapons, taking out two guards immediately before they opened up on him. The assault rifles sprayed lead slugs into the area, smashing through the fake marble and concrete of the columns. Steward dove for cover, dropping his Type II’s as he did.

“Damn them to gokk bonking hell! Slug throwers! You got to be gokk bonking kidding me!” he yelled aloud as the rapid fire of the automatic weapons tore through his cover a bit at a time. He jerked the Cardassian weapon into his hand and flipped the power setting to max and the rate of fire to rapid,

He jumped to his feet and sprayed a salvo at the two remaining on the left to make them go for cover. Then he swung around the almost pulverized column and ran while firing. It seemed like slow motion to him, as he took out the closest guard with a barrage of rapid disruptor fire. He kept moving, shooting down the next guard as he moved out of cover to fire at him. The other two opened fire as well and Tier had to make a snap decision. If he dove for cover now, they remaining four could flak him easy and it would be game over. As he mulled his options for a split second, a shot from one of the guard struck his pulse rifle and tore it out of his hand. The Type III would take too long to get off his back so he made a desperate move. Throwing himself into a cartwheel across the floor he reach out to grab the automatic slugthrower the guard had dropped when killed. He grabbed it by the trigger guard and continued to cartwheel over. As he did, he opened up with the ancient weapon, taking out the two guards on the far side as he did in a spray of bullets and shell casings. Once more on his feet he back himself against a column and discarded the assault rifle with disgust, “Gokk bonking piece of gosa. No finesse, no accuracy and no gokk bonking worth.” He muttered as he quickly pulled the Type III off his back.

The remaining guards would try to outflank him by moving in on both sides. He had to do something unexpected to catch them off guard. Phaser rifle in hand he sprinted ti the closest wall and leap up, kicking out with his legs to spring off and change directions at the same time. He fired as he did, bring down the farthest guard but the other moved too quickly. Tier fell into a roll and came up right in front of the guard. A swift blow to the solar plexis stunned the man and then a round house to the side of the head knocked him down and out.

Tier sighed heavily, “Gokk Bonker!’ he muttered to no one in particular and walked toward the black bag he’d left at the front. He picked up the bag, his two hand phasers and the pulse rifle. The Cardassian weapon was known for its toughness and it proved to be true – the casing was broken but it still was operational. He prepared to move to the elevator, secretly thrilled that he had now made it further than he’d ever before at this level.

As he walked forward though, the holographic projectors suddenly shut down. He found himself in an empty holodeck and plunged into darkness. “What! No gokk boking way!” he screamed and punched his communicator badge furiously.

“Lt. N’doog” he commanded and then when it connected, “Bob! What in the name of gokk-bonking hell is going on here!”

=^= Careful with the ‘Tude, Dude. I’m not dealing the rude. =^=

Tier took a deep breath, “My holo sim just stopped in mid exercise!”

=^=That’s an affirmarino Dude. I’m mem-moding Shelia and had to back off the non essents. =^=

“Shelia? In life sciences?”

=^=No dude. Shelia. The Shelia. Stay on target dude. =^=

“Argh! When can I get my gokk bonking program back online?”

=^=Somewhere between a jiffy and a moment dude. Keep you rayguns ablazing. Got to fly, Shelia needs all eyes on her. Peace out =^=

*Beep* =^=Lt. Tier. Please report to Security station five. Code five=^= Came the voice of the communication officer. His down time had just been officially cancelled. As soon as it was said, his sim started back up, but from the beginning so he was standing outside the building again.

“Today is just not my gokk bonking day.” Tier muttered and then shouted out, “Computer! Exit!”