10-03-2025, 03:45 AM
== NRC Ensign Raven Singer, Engineering Officer ==
Raven was glad to not be forced to attend the formal dinner. She hated those kinds of things. Making polite smalltalk annoyed her, leaving a bad taste in her mouth, so she would have been forced to stand around looking busy while doing her best to keep quiet. In her mind, being able to actually get some real work done was much preferred.
It made her feel good that the ship was in such good shape. Someone had shown her lots of love over the years and it showed. In a relatively short amount of time, they had been able to not only catch up on some of the scheduled maintenance, but were a little ahead on a few things. That, in turn, allowed her to ease up a little on her people, at least for the moment. Ship maintenance was a constant thing, so when you could let your team catch a little break, it was nice. Before long, she knew she would be faced with some sort of project that would require extra time and effort. It all balanced out in the end.
With most of her crew busy or relaxing, she was glad to have a chance to go over rosters for damage control and hazardous waste. Nobody liked playing with the toxic stuff and even fewer wanted to dive in to repair things while they were still in the process of trying to explode. The fancy technical terminology was a rapid and uncontrolled disassembly, often followed by a catastrophic failure of said assembly. On a starship in the middle of the vastness of space, none of those were good to hear. She had seen people sucked out of a ship and it wasn't pretty. The only thing that always seemed odd about it was that there was very little sound when it happened. It tended to be rare when there was a small hole and the sound of atmosphere rushing through it. When a hull rupture happened, it was often bigger than a person and the air went out like a balloon popping. The sudden drop in pressure was a sort of inverted shockwave, pulling at you instead of pushing you, but then the barriers popped up, with you on the wrong side of them, and there was just silence. The trick was to keep your head and try to move. You tended to have only about 30 seconds, if that. The cold didn't hit you all at once. The moisture on your skin would crystalize quickly and you had to worry about your eyes and not try to breathe. The breath wants so badly to escape you, but it is keeping you alive. It takes training to keep your head right for those critical few seconds.
As the thoughts of moments like that ran through her head, she jotted down a note to have some remedial holo-training on emergency actions. A few drills might not hurt either.
Raven was glad to not be forced to attend the formal dinner. She hated those kinds of things. Making polite smalltalk annoyed her, leaving a bad taste in her mouth, so she would have been forced to stand around looking busy while doing her best to keep quiet. In her mind, being able to actually get some real work done was much preferred.
It made her feel good that the ship was in such good shape. Someone had shown her lots of love over the years and it showed. In a relatively short amount of time, they had been able to not only catch up on some of the scheduled maintenance, but were a little ahead on a few things. That, in turn, allowed her to ease up a little on her people, at least for the moment. Ship maintenance was a constant thing, so when you could let your team catch a little break, it was nice. Before long, she knew she would be faced with some sort of project that would require extra time and effort. It all balanced out in the end.
With most of her crew busy or relaxing, she was glad to have a chance to go over rosters for damage control and hazardous waste. Nobody liked playing with the toxic stuff and even fewer wanted to dive in to repair things while they were still in the process of trying to explode. The fancy technical terminology was a rapid and uncontrolled disassembly, often followed by a catastrophic failure of said assembly. On a starship in the middle of the vastness of space, none of those were good to hear. She had seen people sucked out of a ship and it wasn't pretty. The only thing that always seemed odd about it was that there was very little sound when it happened. It tended to be rare when there was a small hole and the sound of atmosphere rushing through it. When a hull rupture happened, it was often bigger than a person and the air went out like a balloon popping. The sudden drop in pressure was a sort of inverted shockwave, pulling at you instead of pushing you, but then the barriers popped up, with you on the wrong side of them, and there was just silence. The trick was to keep your head and try to move. You tended to have only about 30 seconds, if that. The cold didn't hit you all at once. The moisture on your skin would crystalize quickly and you had to worry about your eyes and not try to breathe. The breath wants so badly to escape you, but it is keeping you alive. It takes training to keep your head right for those critical few seconds.
As the thoughts of moments like that ran through her head, she jotted down a note to have some remedial holo-training on emergency actions. A few drills might not hurt either.