Kate's first impression of Rena was that she was facing someone who didn't tolerate an overly-excited, late Ensign. However, then she saw the visor. Kate kept her expression the

same, even though her eyes flickered for a moment. She smiled a bit wider, making the expression obviously fake, but refused to show that she had anything more than a simple

interest in her superior officer.

"You know, you're a bit late..."

Rena continued to stare at her and Kate felt her face heat up, a splotchy red blush forming up her neck and covering her face. "I was si-"

"But that's alright," Kate blinked as Rena continued, "You are new to this vessel, and you only arrived yesterday. It would be unfair to expect you to already have adapted under such

short notice. Please relax; I'm fairly certain that you will find that this department isn't so formal as others. In the lab, we are all scientists; rank doesn't matter so much as where one's

area of expertise lies. So then, what area are you most interested in?"

Kate blinked again and straightened her spine a bit. "Xenobiology, sir."

"In that case, you might want to consider working under Lieutenant Caleb Talda from time to time. He also works in that field, and may be able to teach you some things you may not

already know." Rena smiled, but Kate barely noticed the gesture. Her mind was already let free, wondering if Caleb Talda was the kind of person who didn't mind an overly-excited

Irish co-worker. She forced hersel to focus again.

"I also minored in marine biology, sir, in case you would need any help in that department."

"Hmm... you might also want to consider working with Petty Officer Ruea Nami then. She may not technically be a commanding officer of this vessel, but... well, you'll find out when you

meet her." Rena said, shaking her head slightly. Kate blinked: Now what did that mean?

"But you need not consider yourself limited to the company of those two; the other Ensigns, Devion Bradley and Allen Ridley in particular, would probably be glad to meet someone

newer than them, as well as show you around."

Kate smiled slightly: at least she wouldn't be the only one who wasn't yet suited to life on a Starfleet Vessel.

"Do you have any questions for me right now?"

"No, sir," Kate re-arranged her face, into a more formal expression, "Again, my apoligies for not reporting sooner. It won't happen again."

Rena appeared to be unconcerned, and simply gave her an assignment: "Now then, I believe Allen could use a hand right about now. I suggest you go down to deck 39, and help the

others bring up the probes for testing. I believe that's everything..."

Kate bowed and hurried out, heading for a lift. She sighed and stepped in, going to deck 39, letting herself think...

Lieutenant Rena Leiran seemed like a nice woman, but Kate was uneasy. Maybe it was because of the visor... She sighed and shook her head, straightening as she stepped out on

to deck 39. She spotted a man clad in the male version of her own uniform and hurried over.

"I was instructed to help you by Lieutenant Rena," Kate smiled at him

(OOC: Assuming he responds by asking her to do so.)

Kate nodded and got to work, reigning her thoughts in.

Stardate 2368.04.10-0830-1000
Cmdr. Kennedy USS Discovery - Holodeck 3

Kennedy stepped into the holodeck and looked up at the projections that Warwick had programmed in. Her eyes take a moment to adjust to the light and run a quick mental roll call of the figures in the room. She walked over to where Mac and Bob were standing.

“Quite a shock about Kelsey isn’t it? Gotta love Starfleet and their last minute orders huh?” She shakes her head at Mac.

((OOC: Responses as necessary then on to Bob))

“Bobdude… get the mem mods in Sheila?” She asks with a smile.

((OOC: Assuming positive response))

“Good good… catching the Z train after this right?”

((OOC: ditto last OOC))

“Good because if you weren’t I’d have to order you to.” She smiles again then watches as the last required officer walks in.

She then turns her eyes to Warwick and glances at him.

‘This better be good…’ she mouths over to him. Then offers everyone a smile. “Everyone please welcome our newest member of Engineering. Ensign Warwick. Warwick… the floor is yours…”


“Hello and welcome to the Mark VI Torpedo briefing…” Warwick began. Kennedy stood back and listened as he went on to explain the workings of the torpedoes, highlighting his speech with the graphic displays of explosions. Her arms crossed over her chest, her lips drawn into a stoic expression and her hazel eyes never leaving Warwick as he gives the briefing. Finally it drew to an end. “…These warheads are fantastic weapons at long range, the longer the better.”

She stayed silent through any questions or comments that came up, her cool eyes watching, but staying on Warwick more than anyone else. After all everything has been explained to the satisfaction of the crowd she walks over to Warwick and puts her hand on his shoulder for a moment before leaning in and speaking softly to him.

“Report to my office… now.” Her voice leaves no room for argument, and she walks off, not waiting for him to follow.

Stardate: 2368.04.10 – 11:45
USS Discovery, Docking Bay and nearest Computer Terminal

Watching the new officers arrive onboard always brought back memories. Specifically, the memory of his first 'active duty' citation for 'insubordination'... challenging the head of the first security department he'd served in to an arm wrestle, when he'd been less than a minute off the shuttle.

That hadn't ended well.

Still, chances were his new officer wouldn't be as problemmatic as he had been. A quick check of the padd - not to pick the ensign out of the arrivals, he could do that by uniform and rank - but to make sure he'd gotten the name right. For all his artificial skill with numbers, and the improved memory for images and shapes, they could have put at least a *little* effort into improving his short term memory overall...

The ensign's diversion to the closest terminal gave him the opening he'd been looking for. The best way to get a reading on a security officer's prospects was to surprise them. And a starship just made that easy - no irregularities in the flooring to cause noise as you walk silently up behind someone, then...

"Ensign La Rue?"

A first conversation with Nick was always somewhat... disconcerting... to a new member of the security staff. Especially if he'd started it by sneaking up behind you when you were at a console. He was large, he was bulky, and he was immaculately groomed and essentially expressionless - even his voice was steady and monotonous enough you would have heard more life talking to Lt. Commander Data - in truth, he looked less like an officer and more like a plastic model of an officer made for a recruitment vid. Of course, he knew this himself... it was kinda why he was doing it...

'What is that thing in her hand?' he wondered to himself. It was not important though, so, no questions. Yet.

"I am Lieutenant Briggs. I am the head of the security department on this ship, and you will be reporting to either myself or, if I'm out of contact, the Tactical chief, Lieutenant Mactavish. I would hope that you had access to this command and control data already, but if the paperwork is screwed up, there's no telling what information you were provided in advance. And if you have had access to my file, no, I do not like being referred to by my nickname."

'I've spent years trying to have that removed from my record...'

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask them."

OOC: Nick's feeling patient and tolerant enough to answer questions at the moment. Long may that continue! Nick and Jack having serial tantrums would just be too much for the crew to take

OOC: After the Q&A Session is over:

"You may need to visit the ops department. If your room assignment is stuck anywhere, it is either there or back on the station in *their* ops department. Either way, your record and arrival schedule came through earlier, so you do have a posting here, at least. By the time you have seen the Ops department about your missing room assignment, I should have worked up a duty post for you. Either way, you're not on duty until tomorrow. I suggest you use the time to take a look around the ship. You do not want to get lost in the line of duty."

Stardate 2368.04.10 USS Discovery - Holodeck 3, 10:00
“Bobdude… get the mem mods in Sheila?” She asks with a smile.

“Affirm-a –reno Kennedydude. Sheila’s purring like a tribble in a silo full of tribble chow, extra chewy. Filed the trend reports for you to view, when you are through and you know its true.”

“Good good… catching the Z train after this right?”

“Catching the express, no mess because I’m feeling the stress, Kennedydude.”

“Good because if you weren’t I’d have to order you to.” She smiles again then watches as the last required officer walks in.

Bob watched to briefing with a bemused look until the visuals began to run. Then he took a great deal of interest in looking at his PADD. The violent imagery of the torpedos destroying the target brought back memories for him that he couldn’t deal with again.

“These warheads are fantastic weapons at long range, the longer the better.”

“Couldn’t agree more with the longer part, dude.” Bob said aloud. “Sorry I don’t have and visual wham bams to dam and blam your cortex people,” Bob said when it was his turn to speak, “The inner minds on these are your basic cunning S&D, with turbo boosted through their jim-jams on the S’s. They are hot stuff as the Ensign here has shown with more detail than my lunch could handle. But as with all the F-E-D brings to the table, they are lost when the wool is pulled, unless you wanted to try a tachyon feelie but we all know what happens when you do that, so I won’t waste your time dudes and dudettes.. Any co-mos?”

If anyone wishes to ask a question I will back post.

Stardate 2368.04.10 USS Discovery - Lt. Bob N’doog Quarters 10:30
Bob entered his room and stretched his arms wide as he yawn.s The bed in the room was cleanly made and looked like it never had been slept in. This was because Bob rarely slept in the bed - bed was for other things but sleep was for the chair.

To the side of the room was a large black recliner chair as long as Bob was tall. He’d rescue the chair a while ago from a old shipping trader and had modified it to his needs.

“Sheila! Need to come down – way down. Man that Ensign’s eye candy just about made my chimis –changa if you know what I mean. Mood lighting for sleepy time. Give me some tunes, light and relaxing”

A gentle orchestra piece began to play over the sound system, as the lights lowered to near darkness.

“Sweet!” He said and stretched out on the chair. “Sheila – lay in the magic.”

The chair began to vibrate gently.

“That the place, now it’s homeward bound. Shelia, wake me when ….” Bob never finished his statement as sleep overtook him.

*Beep* Acknowledged. Alarm set for one hour before shift change. *Beep*

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Deck 5, CSO Office - 0735
"Oh, actually, there is one last thing," Rena said after the leaving Kate, "It's just a personal preference of mine, but if you wish to call me by a gender term, I would prefer ma'am over sir. However, it's not very important, so I won't mind either term."

(One side note: Rena's visor doesn't cover her eyes unless it's active, which it isn't here... just making sure you know )

---

USS Discovery - Deck 39, Storage Bay C
Reaching the deck, Kate can hear a debate between three individuals within one of the storage bays.

"Allen, there's just no way you can take two of the probes at one time!" A woman could be heard saying.

"Don't worry, I've got these!" A man, probably Allen, replied.

"The boy seems to need to take a nap," An older sounding man mused, "Yes, yes... then he'll start thinking straight."

"That's uncalled for! I've got these! WHOA!"

There is a crash from the bay.

(OOC: The following is under the presumption that Kate enters)

As Kate enters, she sees Allen underneath what appear to be more like a pair of missiles than anything else.

The woman, Shion, gave an exasperated sigh, "Well, at least your fall cushioned the probes..."

Allen, shakily standing up, quickly noticed Kate, "Oh? Are you the new recruit? What are you doing here?"

"I was instructed to help you by Lieutenant Rena," Kate smiled at him.

Shion smiled, "That's good... otherwise Allen's liable make a fool of himself again. Anyway, I'm Shion Uzuki, Lt. Leiran's assistant. It's nice to meet you."

The older man, bald and on the shorter side, seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, murmuring aloud softly, on the quicker side, "Yes, yes, four people, four probes, we should be able to make Leiran's deadline." He then spoke up, walking over and shaking Kate's hand, "Hello, hello, I'm Gune, Gune Foreman. You take the probe, yes? Take it like this." He quickly demonstrated by taking one of the probes from Allen, holding it carefully but firmly, easily positioning himself so that it's easy to see where he's holding it.

Allen in the meantime staggered to his feet, grinning sheepishly, "Heh, well, I guess you know already, but I'm Allen Ridley."

(OOC: If Kate has any input here, or has things to say above that could change what's said, I can edit and post as such the following is for when it's time to take the probes up to the lab)

Carefully, he handed both Shion and Kate a probe each, before taking his own. It was easily found that with the probes, only three people at maximum would be able to fit in a lift, so Allen opted to go in the lift with Kate. In the lift, Allen attempted to bring up conversation.

"You're pretty new, right? How are you taking everything in so far?" He asked.

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Deck 11; Holodeck 3 – 0955

Lt MacTavish scanned the expanse of the holodeck as he entered alongside Lt N’doog, nodding appreciatively at Mueller and his junior TAC officers’ punctuality when he noticed all of them assembled and ready; “G’marnin’, lads,” he rumbled, taking up a position flanking the hatch as his gaze ticked to the displays that Ensign Warwick had already brought up.

Lt Cmdr Kennedy, also, had been studying the images but, upon noticing Mac and Bob enter, had diverted her attention and approached. “Quite a shock about Kelsey isn’t it,” she asked, “Gotta love Starfleet and their last minute orders huh?”

“Aye,” Mac nodded, his steel-gray eyes regarding her for a moment before returning to Warwick’s presentation.

“No’ so much a s’prise th’ lad’s a’last been given’ ‘is own c’mmand, I s’pose,” he added after a sip from his mug, “But sure fargin’ inconvenient tha’ Fleet’s seen fit tae do et when we be but two days er less from shippin’ oot.” He offered what might have been a shrug, then, and returned his attentions to Warwick’s presentation, taking particular note of the tactical data that the engineer had interspersed throughout the thing. For the remainder of the briefing, MacTavish remained still and silent, his hawkish gaze tracing a slow, regular circuit from Warwick’s displays, to his “damn-well-better-be-payin’-rapt-fargin’-attention” TAC officers, and back.

“…One more demonstration with the 16 yield torpedo,” Warwick intoned, bringing his part of the briefing to a close, as Romulan Warbird materialized on the view screen. “That war bird is within 10,000 kilometers of us and I am using a 16 yield warhead.” The torpedo launched making impact with the Warbird and the holoprogram came to an explosive end leaving the observers in a plain holodeck. “These warheads are fantastic weapons at long range, the longer the better.”

MacTavish offered a curt, though appreciative nod, to the new Ensign, and a cautionary glance to his TAC officers as N’doog stepped forward to add his expert input as to the guidance control computers mounted in the new ordnance, but said nothing. Instead, he indulged in another sip of his coffee, let his eyes return to the center of the holodeck and paid very close attention to what the Catullan said…

“Couldn’t agree more with the longer part, dude.

Sorry I don’t have and visual wham bams to dam and blam your cortex people,” Bob continued, taking Warwick’s place at the head of the briefing. “The inner minds on these are your basic cunning S&D, with turbo boosted through their jim-jams on the S’s. They are hot stuff as the Ensign here has shown with more detail than my lunch could handle. But as with all the F-E-D brings to the table, they are lost when the wool is pulled, unless you wanted to try a tachyon feelie but we all know what happens when you do that, so I won’t waste your time dudes and dudettes…

Any co-mos?”

Mac’s eyes ticked briefly to his assembled officers, then to Kennedy and Warwick before returning to Lt N’doog. “Tha’ll do, Lieutenant,” he nodded to Bob, “Thank ye.”
He finally broke his position near the holodeck’s hatch and took a few steps in the direction of Mueller, Rrowl, and the others from his group in attendance.

“Keep en mind, gen’lemen,” he said matter-of-factly, “tha’ any settin’ higher than level ten on these bairds es a violation o’ strategic arms limitation treaties. I expect ye tae remember tha’ en both real wairld an’ tactical simulations, aye?

An’,” he added, turning on his heel to make his exit, “ef any o’ ye ‘ave questions as tae wha’ Lt N’doog said, see me en me office.”

“Commander,” he nodded his thanks to Callie as he passed her on his way out, then glanced at Ensign Skippy… “Tha’s good wairk, Warwick,” he said without breaking his stride, “Welcome abaird, lad.”

((OOC: Okay… there ye be… “soft toss” to any TAC personnel who may want to interject and Mac’s off to talk himself into answer the rather insistent message he keeps getting from Counseling. ))

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Turbolift – 1024

… ol’ Mac stomping around and growling at ‘em like a targ with bad case of hemorrhoids the whole time…
… first time he snapped and made more than two people push the deck at one time…
… I know you got some built up tension right now, but don’t let my ship get hurt because you miss kissing your little bonny lass…
… Gavison has been promoted to the rank of Captain, on the authority of Admiral Thomas Wellenburg…
Mac’s jaw clenched as he swallowed the last mouthful of coffee from his mug and, at the same time, the fingers wrapped around that mug compressed against its outer surface, threatening to crush the thing. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the featureless door that had just closed him into the relative solitude of the lift and, for a brief instant, he entertained the notion of pounding a fist into the thing. Releasing just that much of his pent up ire would do little to improve the situation, of course, but it might go a way towards distracting him from the headache that had begun thunking at the back of his eyeballs.

=^= Destination? =^= the computer prompted after a moment.

“Shaddap,” he growled in reply. His intent, of course, had been to return to the TAC office and continue on about his work day but, as the day progressed and events unfolded, Jack found himself divided as to where he really wanted to be. Sense of duty – which is what drove him most of the time – insisted that he follow his initial course and return to Deck 8; another part of him, despite the hour, felt the urge to stop by Ten Forward and have a pint; and yet another part longed to disappear into the small corner he had carved out of one of the cargo bays on Deck 38 where he had been working on a “personal project” for the past year or so.

The TAC officer’s jaw clenched again, drawing his lips into a tight, narrow line across his face, and he clamped his eyes shut for a second as he tugged his PADD from where it was clipped to his belt. Mac hated indecisiveness as a rule – he certainly didn’t tolerate it well when it reared up in those assigned to his department and it outright infuriated him when he felt it welling up in his own mind. He opened his eyes, let them fall to the display on the small, hand-held device, and, rather begrudgingly, cycled through the series of messages he had received from Lt Constantine over the past week…

=^= Jack,=^= began the most recent message from the Counselor, =^= I haven’t received a response from you on any of the previous reminders I’ve sent regarding your rescheduled and re-rescheduled appointments. I'm worried that you’re not doing right by yourself by avoiding these sessions…=^=

He stabbed a finger at the PADD and killed the display before finishing the message. It wasn’t often that he willingly went to see Venn in a professional capacity – more often than not any trips to Counseling had been made at the behest of Captain Blair and/or Chantelle. Today, though, Mac had started to realize that he was getting more than a little stressed than simple “cabin fever” could account for.

=^=Destination?=^= the computer asked again after having graced him with silence for a minute.

Jack sucked in a deep, albeit exasperated breath as he clipped the PADD back to his belt before scowling and giving his reply; “Deck Twelve.”

Deck 12 - Counselor’s Office – 1027

The door to Lt Constantine’s office slid away before him as quick as any other hatch on the Discovery but, from the looks of things, it hadn’t moved quite fast enough to evade MacTavish’s pace. The CTO certainly seemed to overrun the thing, turning his shoulders to slip through the opening before it had the chance to disappear into the bulkhead and, should anyone have been paying attention, they might have imagined that, had the door been a person, that Mac would’ve likely shoved that poor soul out of the way…

“A’right, Venn,” Mac blustered, not waiting for the hatch to close behind him nor bothering to take the seat that he knew the counselor was bound to offer, “I’m bloody well ‘ere! Shall we get this oota th’ way so I c’n fargin’ get back tae thinkin’ clearly, then?”

((OOC: Minor liberties taken with Venn’s “message”… will edit if necessary… and Gigi’s got her first customer. ))

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery, captain’s ready room – 1020
The Discovery’s captain frowned sourly at his PADD. Time in port, especially the time just before launch, contained a hugely disproportionate amount of paperwork when compared to the rest of a tour. Blair was itching to get underway, and the endless administrative tasks only served to augment the feeling. It wasn’t as if the crew had been given the opportunity for decent shore leave; there was little to be done on Starbase 128 that couldn’t be done aboard the Discovery - the station’s holosuites were out of date compared to what a galaxy class vessel could offer.

The past couple of days had seen reports begin to steadily amp up, and the last hour and a half had been mostly dedicated to Gavison’s transfer – which had put the Captain behind on reviewing the various transfer orders. Besides the obvious missing headliner – who the new XO would be – Noah knew that he would be replacing two department heads. Doc White had left as soon as they had docked, making his retirement official (and taking a large number of medical crew with him, presumably into private practice). Lieutenant Raines had accepted a transfer to Starbase 212, which allowed him to be close to the Keely girl. A lot of turnover in two years, he mused. Jack MacTavish had been the only real constant among the Discovery’s senior officers. However, such was a life in Starfleet; he could hardly begrudge any of them the chance to better their careers and lives.

So let’s see what we have, Blair mused.

The first record was the new chief medical officer – a Lieutenant Commander Solkar. Overall, the Vulcan had a brilliant service record, but something incongruous near the end of the data caught the Captain’s eye. Received reprimand for failure to secure a medicine storage unit.
That seemed an odd reprimand to be levied against a senior department head. Surely the care of storage units would fall on a junior officer or an enlisted tech? Furthermore, the reprimand was shortly followed by Solkar’s transfer to the Discovery. It would seem that there was more to this story than met the eye…

Noah’s mouth was set in a thin line as he considered the possibilities, when the chime sounded.

“Come,” he answered, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. The hatch hissed open to reveal a dark-skinned, blue-eyed Vulcan dressed in medical blues with lieutenant commander’s pips. “Commander Solkar, I presume?” Blair asked by way of greeting.

OOC: assuming an affirmative response…

“Welcome aboard the Discovery, doctor. Please, take a seat.” Noah offered a hand to shake, then gestured to a chair across from his desk.

OOC: assuming he does so…

“I trust that you have found everything that you need so far. Your service record indicates that you are well qualified for this posting, though it seems that you had had issues with equipment in the past?”

OOC: leaving it up to Solkar if he wishes to breech any of this at this time. If so, I will edit Blair’s responses to fit accordingly.

The Captain nodded. “You will find me to be a hands-off commanding officer – you are an expert in your field, and I will give you free reign to manage your own responsibilities as you see fit. That being said,” he continued, “if you have need of me, my door is always open.”

OOC: allowing for a reponse. If there are no other topics…

“Very well,” Blair concluded. “I’m sure that you have enough duties to attend to, so I will not keep you any longer, doctor. Again, welcome aboard the Discovery.”

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Counselling – 1026

The force of nature that burst into her office broke her from her reverie, startling her into an alertness that bordered on panic, until she processed the source of the storm. Inwardly sighing, she smiled warmly and blinked as she organized a few scattered thoughts and tapped the display, closing out Mac's lengthy -and colorful- file. From the look of him, there was smethine clearly amiss, and relief registered behind the smile, relief that he was finally taking control of his emotins, rather than shunting them off to the side.

“A’right, Venn,” Mac blustered, not waiting for the hatch to close behind him nor bothering to take the seat that he knew the counselor was bound to offer, “I’m bloody well ‘ere! Shall we get this oota th’ way so I c’n fargin’ get back tae thinkin’ clearly, then?”
"You know, Jack," she teased gently. "I don't believe the door's done anything to you...today, at least. I'm glad you're here, I was starting become a little concerned."

((Allowing for some response, though I'm pretty sure I just heard Mac grunt indignantly...))

Coming out from behind the desk, she made her way over to the soft wasabi-green cushioned settes where her guests typically found themselves. brushing a dark fringe of gangs frm her eyes, she leaned in, elbows on knees, and ccked her head. Though she studied him, her eyes remained soft and concerned, rather than clinical and hard. "You can put down the sword now Jack. It's just us. And you know you're not going to intimidate me into letting you out of this office till we have your head back on straight."

Venn watched him reacting, and arched a brow. "Why don't we start off easy. How are you?"

((Allowing response))

As he spoke, Venn paid close attention to his hands, and wondered idly if she shouldn't perhaps engage the lock to prevent him from storming off. He wasn't going to do the ship much good at all in this condition, but she had enough confidence in him to stay. It was a step in the right direction, she proudly noted, that he knew where to go when his mind was too full.

"Well, it's no wonder you came through that door like that. I imagine the pressure has been getting to you for some time now."

Crosing her legs, she sat back, and paused. "You've been putting in some dangerously long hours, Jack. When was the last time you had real, actual fun?" She raised her hand to cut off any protest and frowned. "A pint doesn't qualify."

((awaiting another response))

"Hmm...I see. That's quite some time....You know that it's integral to your inner balance to let that part of you out to play once in a while, right? Tell me," she asked quietly, a knowing softness in her voice. "what would you do if time, location, and your responsibilities were not an issue?"

((responsiveness))

As the words came, she began devising, strategizing his new recreation requirements, and figuring how to fit them with a new holosession she had been working on for him.





((OOC: Will edit if necessary, based on responses.))

Stardate: 2368.04.10
Main Engineering - Cmdr. Kennedy's Office 1025
Cmdr. Kennedy
Ensign Warwick
She did not wait for him, but instead walked off to her office. He swallows as she walks off, licks his lips, and smiles. He traipses after Cmmdr. Kennedy ignoring the rest of the troupe except to cast a concerned glance toward Bob N'doog.

The door is open when he arrives, but quickly shuts closed behind him. He’ll notice at once that she keeps things very orderly. On sleek surface of the desk she has a black coffee mug, the image of a red guitar wrapped around it, her PADD, a computer screen and a computerized picture frame, the current motion picture being a teenage girl with long black hair laughing and silently singing next to a taller older man outside of a large gate with ‘Graceland’ written over the top of it.

Kennedy has not moved to take the high backed chair behind the desk but instead is propped on the edge of the desk. She nods toward one of the two smaller chairs that sit in front of her desk.

As he enters the office he takes everything in with a glance and sits slightly straight backed in the proffered chair with his hands held together in his lap waiting for the tongue lashing he is sure he is about to recieve. Well I made my call and now have to take the consequences. He thought probably not for the last time aboard the Discovery.

"Well... I asked for the nuts and bolts and you give us a fireworks display..." Kennedy says dryly and looks at him as if waiting for his explaination.

"All the information requested was given. I find it more beneficial and easier to explain the nuts and bolts if I can demonstrate." Warwick explained "Sir."

She watched him carefully. Looking for any signs of squirming under her gaze, and found none, if his little feet were trying to tap dance out of this he was hiding it well. "You know it isn't really how things are done around here. We have protocol and we follow it. I did explain to you the whole bit about not wanting to babysit you didn't I?"

"Yes sir. Was my presentation not done correctly?" Warwick asked. "If you'd please excuse my inexperience but did I violate protocol?"

"hmmm...." She responds as she watches him but does not answer. "The Chief says you also fixed the cocoa issue already?"

"Yes sir." John responded. "I discovered that the replicator produced cocoa when asked and so figured it must be a problem with the recipe. I programmed a new recipe and now the cocoa gives an annoying message that the recipe has been changed and makes tastier cocoa." Before Cmdr. Kennedy could ream him about he message he added, "I will of course remove the message after a week or so to make sure any one drinking cocoa is aware of the change."

Finally a smile creeps across her face. "I see... Well... it wasn't how I would have gone about doing things, Ensign." She pauses here then smiles a bit more. "And perhaps I would have doubled checked to make sure my actions were appropriate... but... you have... initiative, and a fresh prospective on things. You did a good job. Been under my command for less than half a shift and honestly I'm already impressed. Keep up such work and you'll be seeing another pip on your uniform before too long I think..." She gives him a full smile then before reaching over to grab her coffee mug.

"Thank you sir." John smiled inwardly pleased at praise. I'll remember to turn in the paperwork this time.
"Good... now then. We both have work to do. Go ahead and spend the rest of the shift getting familiar with engineering. Tomorrow we'll get you on a more permament assignment." She sipped her coffee and then stood up. "You're dismissed Ensign." She offered a smile, finished up her coffee in a gulp and waited for him to leave.

Ensign Warwick rose smiled and gave a slight bow as he exited the office. Finally I get to look at the warp drives. He thinks triumphantly as he half skips out the room.

Kennedy rolls her eyes slightly at the skip but says nothing. Instead she picks up her PADD slips it into her belt and heads back to the torpedo bays.

Stardate: 2368.04.10 – 11:45
USS Discovery, Docking Bay and nearest Computer Terminal

Since the Office of the Deck knew of her there had to have been a communiqué of such to the ship.
=/\\\\=Computer, have any communiqués come from Star Fleet concerning one Ensign Antoinette La Rue. =/\\\\=

=/\\\\=Stardate 2367.4.10 at 11:29 records of estimated arrival time of Ensign Antionette La Rue were sent…… =/\\\\=

Toni had been intent of listening to the computer. She sighed in relief, they had her records and arrival schedule. Had she caught the previous shuttle they would have never let her on board. As much as she wanted to stow her gear sh would have to take it with her and locatethe Security Department.

A first conversation with Nick was always somewhat... disconcerting... to a new member of the security staff. Especially if he'd started it by sneaking up behind you when you were at a console. He was large, he was bulky, and he was immaculately groomed and essentially expressionless - even his voice was steady and monotonous enough you would have heard more life talking to Lt. Commander Data - in truth, he looked less like an officer and more like a plastic model of an officer made for a recruitment vid. Of course, he knew all this himself... which is why he'd taken the opportunity to sneak up behind Ensign La Rue.

"Ensign La Rue?"

"You may need to visit the ops department. If your room assignment is stuck anywhere, it is either there or back on the station in *their* ops department. Either way, your record and arrival schedule came through earlier, so you do have a posting here, at least."

Toni executed a perfect toe pirouette and faced the speaker, then saluted smartly. He must have hear what the computer reported to answer like that.

“Sir.” She acknowledged quelling the urge to tug at her uniform. Madame Olga advised her once before an audition, “First impressions are very important, put everything you can into your best foot forward, then follow it up with a solid performance.” Funny how advice from her ballet instructor also fit for Starfleet.

Well Madame Olga all my practice to take that first step into the CSO’s office was for naught.
'What is that thing in her hand?' he wondered to himself. It was not important though, so, no questions. Yet.

Note to self, he has excellent hearing,” and as his eyes dropped momentarily to her left hand, and shape eyes.
"I am Lieutenant Briggs. I am the head of the security department on this ship, and you will be reporting to either myself or, if I'm out of contact, the Tactical chief, Lieutenant Mactavish. I would hope that you had access to this command and control data already, but if the paperwork is screwed up, there's no telling what information you were provided in advance. And if you have had access to my file, no, I do not like being referred to by my nickname."

“Yes, sir.” Toni wondered what he meant, why would she look into his records. But then as a member of Security is was her duty of know about the crew of the ship.

'I've spent years trying to have that removed from my record...'

"If you have any questions, feel free to ask them."

“Yes, Sir, I have a couple of questions. When do my duties start? And who is the officer directly over me after yourself and Lt MacTavish?

"By the time you have seen the Ops department about your missing room assignment, I should have worked up a duty post for you. Either way, you're not on duty until tomorrow. I suggest you use the time to take a look around the ship. You do not want to get lost in the line of duty."

Insert answer to who her immediate superior is.

“Yes Sir. Thank you, sir.” and waited at attention to be dismissed.

(dismissed)

She saluted, slipped the worry stone away, grabbed the handle of her rolling luggage, and turned down the hall heading for a lift to take her to OPS.

She let out her breath when she was far enough away to not be heard by him, well down the corridor. Did she sound as “wet behind the ears” as she thought she did. She had not expected him to pop up right behind her. Gads, what must her think of her. Toni unhooked her PADD and queried it for directions to the nearest lift to take her to the Opeartions Department to get a room. She would be glad to get rid of her heavy luggage.

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery - Deck 12; Counselor’s Office - 1026

“You know, Jack,” Venn smiled lightheartedly, looking up at Mac from behind her desk as he stomped into her office, “I don't believe the door's done anything to you...today, at least. I'm glad you're here, I was starting become a little concerned.”

MacTavish offered the hint of a smirk that did little to stifle the rather indignant grunt which was his instinctual response. He folded his arms across his chest as the office door whispered shut behind him and Constantine made her way from the desk to the sofa…

Chroist, he scowled, his gaze following her across the room, knowing that she was expecting him to follow, Yer gonna make me sit, aren’t ye? Why’ve we always gotta go runnin’ off a’ th’ gob whene’er I come en ‘ere, Venn? Can yo no’ jus’ one time say ‘Jack; do thes’ er ‘Jack, do tha’ an’ let a bloke get on aboot ‘is fargin’ day?!
…Mac’s expression was as impassive as his stance as he watched the Counselor settle herself onto the pale-green poofery of the couch and, with a flick of her dark bangs, turned her eyes in his direction, again.

“You can put down the sword now, Jack,” Venn assured him, “It's just us. And you know you're not going to intimidate me into letting you out of this office till we have your head back on straight.”

One corner of his mouth twitched and he drew in a slow breath as he rolled his eyes in the direction of the closed door. That breath was released as an acquiescent yet grumbling sigh as the TAC officer unfolded his arms and found his way to the opposing couch. It didn’t take long for him to sit but, even after having done it for a year or better, he still hadn’t managed to make himself comfortable in doing so.

“How about we start of easy,” the affable Lt Constantine suggested, arching a brow as she watched him, “How are you?”

“I’m jus’ fargin’ grand, Counselor,” Jack replied trying to figure out exactly what to do with his hands as he resisted sinking into the cushions. He tried folding his hands in his lap, first, but that lasted about as long as it took to think it. “I’ve go’ a boat full o’ lollygags wi’ naught bett’r tae occupy their time than placin’ wagers on which o’ ‘em I’m liable tae smack inna ‘ead next…” Crossing his arms in front of his chest didn’t work, either. It just made him feel as if the sofa cushions were trying to suck him deeper into some sort of cradle… “Tha’ same boat’s lost more’n ‘alf o’ th’ officers an’ crew tha’ made ‘er wha’ she were in th’ past four years…” He grimaced, unfolding his arms and hauling himself towards the edge of the sofa “…me missus’s been gone since January,” he practically snarled, leaning forward now and resting his elbows on his knees, “an’ tae put a bloody feather en et all, Kel’s gone off an’ go’ his own command which means I’ll be expected tae go tippy-toein’ aboot who-bloody-e’er th’ new XO’s gonna be so I dinnae accidentally get meself court-martialed ere I c’n retire!”

He shook his head, then, his jaw clenching as his hands found a bit of respite by cradling his head as he let his gaze drop to the toes of his boots and feigned interest in the carpeted floor between them for a moment. “An’ this coach is bloody-well uncomfort’ble as a steff woolen kilt onna clean-shaven arse,” he growled, finally giving up on trying to get comfortable on the thing. He rocked to his feet and paced the length of the couch, his arms folded once more across his chest, “I’m jus’ bloody brilliant!”

“Well, it's no wonder you came through that door like that,” Venn said simply, “I imagine the pressure has been getting to you for some time now.”

“Et’s no’ pressure, Venn,” he rumbled back, “Et’s fargin’ sheepshyte, politics, an’ idiocy…”

Venn’s eyes, soft and concerned as they always were, still followed him as he wore a rut in the floor of her office. “You've been putting in some dangerously long hours, Jack,” she said softly, crossing her legs and leaning back in her seat…

He glanced at her sidelong as he turned and paced towards the other end of the settee. I put en th’ hours tha’ need tae be put en, he didn’t vocalize the retort, of course; she’d heard it from him before, et’s me blinkin’ job!
“When was the last time you had real, actual fun?”

Mac stopped pacing, looked at the Counselor curiously for a moment, and was about to answer that he’d just had a drink and a round of darts in Ten Forward not two days ago.

The corners of Venn’s mouth turned down and her hand came up to cut off his reply before he could get it from mind to mouth, however. “A pint doesn't qualify,” she warned.

The TAC officer’s somewhat perplexed gaze drifted away from her and focused on the ceiling for a moment as he contemplated her question and tried to come up with an answer… Wha’ sort o’ fun’re ye wantin’ tae know aboot, then? Th’ sparrin’ sessions wi’ Rrowl er Briggs? Tha’s aboot’s close tae fun as et gets since I’ve been asked tae leave the safety protocols active onna holodeck… I s’pose there’s me project inna cargo bay, he mused, but I dinnae know tha’s as much ‘fun’ as et es distractin’…
Mac had paced off another two laps in front of the couch before deciding that the last time he’d had any real, actual fun, had been when he had taken Chantelle to Caldos IV just prior to her resignation from Starfleet, helped her settle into their home there, and celebrated a ‘traditional MacTavish Christmas’… “December last, I reckon,” he answered curtly, his eyes finally returning to meet Venn’s gaze.

“Hmm...I see. That's quite some time....You know that it's integral to your inner balance to let that part of you out to play once in a while, right? Tell me,” she asked quietly, a knowing softness in her voice, “what would you do if time, location, and your responsibilities were not an issue?”

His scowl flipped into something closer to a smirk and he chuffed a bit as he threw his hands up in the air. “Ef time, location, an’ responsibility were no’ an issue? I dinnae know, Venn, per’aps I’d take up knittin’ tea-cozies er sommat,” he smirked sarcastically, “Mebbe convairt a bit o’ me Da’s manor inta a rabbit ranch, er per’aps finally play a round o’ golf a’ St Andrews, aye?

Fact o’ th’ matter es, Venn,” he said, “wha’ wi’ the Klingons a’ war wi’ themselves – Romulans sympathizin’ wi’ ‘em on one side an’ Gowron bandyin’ aboot like a fargin’ rooster onna other – an’ these fargin’ Borg bastards crawlin’ all o’er th’ galaxy like bloody cockroaches; time, location, an’ responsibility’re always gonna be an issue…”

((OOC: Okay… stopping there so this doesn’t get toooo much longer… Room for interjections and whatnot throughout, of course… Tag: Gigi! ))

Stardate: 2368.04.10
Time: 11:45
USS Discovery, Computer Terminal nearest the Docking Bay
“ Yes, Sir, I have a couple of questions. When do my duties start? And who is the officer directly over me after yourself and Lt MacTavish?

"Unless I assign you to the same security substation as one of the Junior Grade Lieutenants... then you will have none. There are barely a dozen officers in the Security Department, Ensign, and we're scattered all over the ship. Of course, the senior officers of whichever department you are working with should be listened to - but if Lieutenant MacTavish and I are unavailable, you have supreme control over local security measures. By the time you have seen the Ops department about your missing room assignment, I should have worked up a duty post for you. Either way, you're not on duty until tomorrow. I suggest you use the time to take a look around the ship. You do not want to get lost in the line of duty."

OOC: Insert answer to who her immediate superior is.

“Yes Sir. Thank you, sir.” and waited at attention to be dismissed.

"That will be all, Ensign."

She saluted, slipped the worry stone away, grabbed the handle of her rolling luggage, and turned down the hall heading for a lift to take her to OPS.

Nick watched her go, thinking to himself Well, there's nothing wrong with her record, and she controls shock well - or just didn't feel any, one or the other. I'll have to put her through some of the sims while we're en route to our next assignment. Put the fear of Augmented Muscle into her... heh. I wonder if she had looked up my file or not? If she did, then that's actually quite impressive - standing up to a mentally unstable augment without even wetting herself. If she didn't... Well, that's hardly suitable behaviour for a security officer, heading into a new posting without so much as looking up your new co-workers!
'Might as well take a look.'

Since the Ensign had vacated the computer terminal, Nick took a step forwards to address it. Calling up the access logs, he took a look at the list of accessees for his service records... No, no La Rue on it. Ensigns these days. Just not as paranoid as they used to be...
Snooping complete, Nick headed for the turbolifts himself. He needed to drop by his office, get the assignments done. Then... Well, who knows? Go prowl some of the duty stations, perhaps. Scaring the subordinates was always fun...

Stardate: 2368.04.10
Time: 13:05
USS Discovery - Deck 9, Lt Briggs' Office After an hour of assigning security personnel to new duty stations (Nick liked to re-assign personnel every time they had a major stop in port, kept'em on their toes), the Security Department's new operational orders were almost complete.

Two officers left. Two posts left - Science and the Bridge. So, do I send my new ensign to stand watch behind Jack's duty station? Or the Ltjg? Choices, choices...
An otherwise empty drawer in his desk contained a small coin. To this day he could never remember how much this was meant to be worth - but the practice of flipping a coin to make decisions? He remembered that one.

Who remembers what a pound is, anyway? And if you cannot work out the value of a pound, then two of them is twice as meaningless! Hah... okay, to business. Heads, the ensign gets to stand up on the bridge. Good chance of promotions, bad chance of doing anything fun. Tails, the lietenant gets the cushy posting.... Well, what would be a cushy posting if you weren't the closest junior officer to Jack during most shifts. Glad I wasn't in that post as an ensign. It would have turned into a bloodbath.
Flip.

Heads it is.
Adding the last two sets of placements to the padd, Nick uploaded the lot into the Discovery's computer systems. All the security personnel would find out their postings next time they checked their internal communications. And whatever superior being you believed in have mercy on La Rue's sanity.

One final task on the computer, before he stood to head out from the office. A quick message up to the Captain Himself - asking if they knew who the new XO would be. People at Commander rank were generally trustworthy, but you run the background checks anyway. Just in case.

Venn leaned back, fighting off the slight diziness from Mac's frenetic pacing. Though his tones ranged frm sharp to rough to frustrated, she could understand not only the source, but his inability to process any more of it. Her wayward bangs fell forward again, obscuring her vision momentarily before she swept them out of the way.

"There will always be chaos, it's why we come here. It's why we try. But perhaps your coworkers can sense your mounting tensions, hence the friendly wagers. You're tense. You're irritable. So, despite the current climate and your substanial workload, you need to relax yourself."

There a shadow passed over her eyes as she thought for a brief moment of her father, who had worked himself into a failed relationship with her incorrigible and wayward mother, and into an early grave. How often had they had this same conversation, her and the great Max Romanov? Venn pushed aside the darkened thoughts and forced herself to smile, moved her focus back to the moment at hand.

Venn shook her head and pointed at the empty seat, commanding with a delicately arched brow and asoft smile. "Jack, the world is always going to need saving. And you're always going to think you need to work longer and harder than you already are. So, instead of thinking of fun and relaxation as the enemey, start thinking of your stress as the enemy and make yourself more aware of how to fight it."

She watched him, brilliantly suffocating her smile at his appearant issues with the seating.


"And to be honest, it's a whole lot less paperwork for me if you just stop fighting it and take some R&R rather than have me make it an order. And you wouldn't want that now, would you?"

((leaving room for appropriate responses)))

"I want you to do two things. One, page me when you have some time after you shift. I've been working on a little something that might help, and I would you to try it out. And no-" she raised a finger to stop the expected rebuttal. "No, you're allowed to know what it is. Just that it was designed with your best interests in mind. The second thing I'd like you to do is compose a letter home. I mean, on paper."

Venn rose and crossed the room, retrieveing a stack of parchment frm her desk, bound in a blue ribbon, and a long slender shallow box. Her thoughts moved to her mother, who'd sent them to her in a box shotrly after running home to her father. She'd never used them to write MAressa, mostly never knwing where her mother was.

Returning to the couches, she handed them to Mac and smiled. "The physical act of writing out what troubles ones soul often allows the troubled soul to put things into a clearer perspective. Wite out everything that's bothering you, without censoring yourself. Everything, no matter how insignificant you might find it. Pet peeves, minor gripes, put it all in there, and bring the letter with you to our next session. I'm not ging to read it. but we'll work on an excercise that will help straighten out some of your internal clutter."

She smiled again. "Go on then. Promise me you'll do as I ask and you can go about your day.And Jack," She reached out and placed a hand on his, as she did at the end of each of her sessions. The physical act of touch was something sh found lacking on society in general, and the momentary connection was always meant to inspire warmth and comfort. "Thank you for making time to come here today. I hope you are able to take something postive from it and find a way to use that in your day."


((OOC: Room, as always for respones and whatnots, and much fun had. Thanks for the breaking-in, Eol! And now for my next victim...er...patient?))

Stardate: 2368.04.10
USS Discovery, Lieutenant Talda’s quarters – 0940
Caleb awoke slowly, with stinging eyes and a head that felt heavy and thick. He blinked a time or two and immediately regretted it – blinking just made the stinging worse. “Computer,” he croaked, “what is the time?”

=/\\=The time is oh-nine forty=/\\= came the feminine reply, several decibels louder than the young man would have liked.

So, not quite three hours of sleep, then. Good thing I’m not on alpha shift today. A soft murmur also protested the speech, and served to give Talda something to focus on.

His gaze settled on an unruly flood of raven hair spilled across his pillow. Caleb found himself smiling, despite his fatigue. Prior to a few hours ago, he had only seen that hair pinned up into a very proper bun. The emerald-eyed beauty who wore it had always gone out of her way to let him know just how low an opinion she held of him. On good days, she was tolerant, if a bit cool – on bad days, she had been known to be bitingly hostile.

Sabrina Calden was a dedicated, brilliant researcher who made it clear that she was on board for the science only – and for no other reason. When others would gather after a shift to share drinks and stories, Sabrina would work late. While others would share anecdotes during work, she would invariably steer the conversation back to the task at hand.

While she might have considered most of the department to be shallow or flighty, it was clear that Caleb was another matter entirely. If he made any sort of non-work comment to any female in her presence, she would shoot daggers at him with her eyes. Heaven forbid he share the company of a young woman on a given evening – she would go out of her way to make the following day miserable. It was clear from day one that Sabrina viewed Caleb’s Risan background and philosophy as some sort of abomination, as something to be ashamed of, and the fact that he instead displayed it openly was something she seemed to take as a personal offense.

Which was why it was so jarring to wake up next to her.

She murmured again, this time opening her eyes and focusing on Caleb. Instantly, her eyes narrowed, and she tensed up… but a moment later, she relaxed and smiled a sleepy smile back to him.

Caleb grinned and stretched. “Coffee, extra sugar, extra creamer,” he spoke, and the replicator whirred to life.

Some things were well worth a little lost sleep.