01-08-2026, 10:56 PM
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Artie watched as officers and civilians alike walked with some urgency back to their on-ship living arrangements. Some gave her a side-eye, as if they could glean more information by just glancing at the Security Chief. But Art kept her face stony, meaning she probably looked like a very irritated Klingon. She didn’t mind; people got out of their way just that much faster. The drawn phaser probably helped, as well.
Her eyes scanned for the tell-tale Trill markings, even though she knew how easy it would be for a Trill to use just enough makeup, or a headscarf positioned the right way, and blend in with the Humans.
While the Midshipman took a closer look at their maintenance hatch, Art surveyed the area around it. It looked disappointly ordinary, and the Middie placed hands on the deck as if she would hear the thunder of footfells in the distance. Art found herself glowering at the hatch, in lieu of directing her ire at the PO, who would have been collateral damage.
“You get anything?” She asked Crescent, her voice a growl. After she answered, Art decided to try her luck with the computer, though anyone smart enough to leave no trace would have also covered up their exit, as well.
“Computer,” Art prompted, taking a moment to choose her words, “Has anyone left the ship within the last eight hours?” Currently, she had no idea how long this stupid race had taken, but at the very least she knew it hadn’t been 12 hours, and it had certainly been more than -or at least close to- two hours since she started monitoring the Bridge from Security.
==Tags to GM. If you were waiting on me, that’s very kind, but please answer the (now 3) GM input requests==
Artie watched as officers and civilians alike walked with some urgency back to their on-ship living arrangements. Some gave her a side-eye, as if they could glean more information by just glancing at the Security Chief. But Art kept her face stony, meaning she probably looked like a very irritated Klingon. She didn’t mind; people got out of their way just that much faster. The drawn phaser probably helped, as well.
Her eyes scanned for the tell-tale Trill markings, even though she knew how easy it would be for a Trill to use just enough makeup, or a headscarf positioned the right way, and blend in with the Humans.
While the Midshipman took a closer look at their maintenance hatch, Art surveyed the area around it. It looked disappointly ordinary, and the Middie placed hands on the deck as if she would hear the thunder of footfells in the distance. Art found herself glowering at the hatch, in lieu of directing her ire at the PO, who would have been collateral damage.
“You get anything?” She asked Crescent, her voice a growl. After she answered, Art decided to try her luck with the computer, though anyone smart enough to leave no trace would have also covered up their exit, as well.
“Computer,” Art prompted, taking a moment to choose her words, “Has anyone left the ship within the last eight hours?” Currently, she had no idea how long this stupid race had taken, but at the very least she knew it hadn’t been 12 hours, and it had certainly been more than -or at least close to- two hours since she started monitoring the Bridge from Security.
==Tags to GM. If you were waiting on me, that’s very kind, but please answer the (now 3) GM input requests==