10-03-2025, 12:41 PM
== Crewman Mark Halvorsen – Security NRC ==
Halvorsen took the long way on purpose—shoulders loose, pace steady, eyes doing their quiet work. Yeager wore her usual morning face: white-gold lights, current-palette LCARS, a faint vanilla cleaner under a ribbon of someone’s coffee from a door that hadn’t latched. An engineer chuckled at an EPS readout; a yeoman slid past with a stack of PADDs and a mouthed thanks. Normal. Blessedly normal.
The SECURITY placard turned up at the elbow, brushed metal catching a polite line of light. The Complex doors were shut—flush, tight, no daylight in the seam. The status strip beside the jamb pulsed a cool, steady band: PERIMETER ACTIVE – L4. Even with the doors closed, he caught the hush of a field on the other side, that barely-there pressure that made corridor sounds feel like they were happening a room away.
Not standard for a Tuesday. The thought arrived dry as deck dust. So it wasn’t just me. Something rattled enough cages that we’ve got a bubble up. He slid the idea onto the shelf marked later, though it kept glancing back at him from the edge.
He stopped one pace off the threshold, squared up, and kept his hands visible at his sides—neat posture, nothing to spook a watchstander behind the pane. Would’ve felt better with a phaser on his hip, but wishes don’t count as equipment.
He tapped his commbadge. “Security, Crewman Halvorsen at the Complex entrance,” he said, tone even. “Standing by for entry and assignment.”
The door’s embedded sensor gave a polite chirp as his badge pinged; the status strip brightened a notch, like it had taken note. He lifted his chin to present the commbadge cleanly to whatever was watching and held the spot—breathing steady, eyes forward—ready to step through the instant a Security voice told him to move.
== Tags ==
Halvorsen took the long way on purpose—shoulders loose, pace steady, eyes doing their quiet work. Yeager wore her usual morning face: white-gold lights, current-palette LCARS, a faint vanilla cleaner under a ribbon of someone’s coffee from a door that hadn’t latched. An engineer chuckled at an EPS readout; a yeoman slid past with a stack of PADDs and a mouthed thanks. Normal. Blessedly normal.
The SECURITY placard turned up at the elbow, brushed metal catching a polite line of light. The Complex doors were shut—flush, tight, no daylight in the seam. The status strip beside the jamb pulsed a cool, steady band: PERIMETER ACTIVE – L4. Even with the doors closed, he caught the hush of a field on the other side, that barely-there pressure that made corridor sounds feel like they were happening a room away.
Not standard for a Tuesday. The thought arrived dry as deck dust. So it wasn’t just me. Something rattled enough cages that we’ve got a bubble up. He slid the idea onto the shelf marked later, though it kept glancing back at him from the edge.
He stopped one pace off the threshold, squared up, and kept his hands visible at his sides—neat posture, nothing to spook a watchstander behind the pane. Would’ve felt better with a phaser on his hip, but wishes don’t count as equipment.
He tapped his commbadge. “Security, Crewman Halvorsen at the Complex entrance,” he said, tone even. “Standing by for entry and assignment.”
The door’s embedded sensor gave a polite chirp as his badge pinged; the status strip brightened a notch, like it had taken note. He lifted his chin to present the commbadge cleanly to whatever was watching and held the spot—breathing steady, eyes forward—ready to step through the instant a Security voice told him to move.
== Tags ==