11-02-2024, 06:16 PM
Art had been weighing the pros and cons of calling up to the Bridge, perhaps privately, to discuss the merits of sending someone over and pulling Braggins’ butt out of whatever situation she had set fire to. She just hoped that even though the woman had not made Security privy to what she was doing, she hoped that the First Officer at least knew. Having Jensen on the Bridge was a bonus in more ways than one.
She checked the timer she had put in place. Fifteen minutes. It had only been fifteen minutes. Braggins hadn’t checked in at all, but that wasn’t cause for concern. Fifteen hours, Peter would have definitely sent someone over there, but fifteen minutes, that meant almost nothing. Art took a deep breath, and tried to tell herself she was nervous for no reason, but… the other side of that coin almost told her that instincts were instincts for a reason. Why was she nervous? Was it just for the fact that she didn’t trust her Captain?
The Security Chief tried not to stare so hard at the console that it bored a hole into the strike-resistant plating. She checked and rechecked inter-ship comms, monitoring for any sign that something was about to slide sideways. Cargo Bays were setting up stasis pods, Sickbay was prepping for light work, the Bridge was… Bridge-ing…
[Beinn to Security. Pods have arrived, along with guests. I would prefer human personnel to be present, given the culture shock we might be facing given the age of the ship.]
Had Art been sitting down, she would have literally shot out of her chair, and as it was, her back snapped into a rigid pole, and she flailed into a classic military standing stance. The message had been contradictory: if people were in the stasis pods, then why would Human-only escorts be necessary? The obvious deduction was that there were some in the pods that had been awakened, and that was already a Security nightmare.
The three enlistedmen that were already in the Cargo Bays were, thankfully, Human. Sometimes bumbling idiots, but capable, and could be trusted to at least follow orders. Art looked around at the rest of her Security team, knowing that her head ridges would give her away. Who here could at least be “passing” ?
“Ophelia!” She barked, definitely too roughly. A very young, very blonde young woman stepped up to the station Art was standing at. She was a midshipman, and so had arguably less experience than the three enlistedboys in the Cargo Bay, but at least she was an officer. “Go make sure those boys keep their mouths shut.” Ophelia looked clueless. “They’re very nice, but very chatty. And if any of our ‘visitors’ are out of their pods… Temporal Mechanics rule number one - don’t tell them anything about the ‘future.’ ”
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl of about nineteen scurried off, and Art couldn’t help feeling bad that she now looked scared. The Security Chief with the Klingon-dominant genes growled, and brought up the video feed from the Cargo Bays so she could at least watch.
== Paul, you took away the ship’s NPC list, so I WILL be making my own!! You did this to yourself!! ==
She checked the timer she had put in place. Fifteen minutes. It had only been fifteen minutes. Braggins hadn’t checked in at all, but that wasn’t cause for concern. Fifteen hours, Peter would have definitely sent someone over there, but fifteen minutes, that meant almost nothing. Art took a deep breath, and tried to tell herself she was nervous for no reason, but… the other side of that coin almost told her that instincts were instincts for a reason. Why was she nervous? Was it just for the fact that she didn’t trust her Captain?
The Security Chief tried not to stare so hard at the console that it bored a hole into the strike-resistant plating. She checked and rechecked inter-ship comms, monitoring for any sign that something was about to slide sideways. Cargo Bays were setting up stasis pods, Sickbay was prepping for light work, the Bridge was… Bridge-ing…
[Beinn to Security. Pods have arrived, along with guests. I would prefer human personnel to be present, given the culture shock we might be facing given the age of the ship.]
Had Art been sitting down, she would have literally shot out of her chair, and as it was, her back snapped into a rigid pole, and she flailed into a classic military standing stance. The message had been contradictory: if people were in the stasis pods, then why would Human-only escorts be necessary? The obvious deduction was that there were some in the pods that had been awakened, and that was already a Security nightmare.
The three enlistedmen that were already in the Cargo Bays were, thankfully, Human. Sometimes bumbling idiots, but capable, and could be trusted to at least follow orders. Art looked around at the rest of her Security team, knowing that her head ridges would give her away. Who here could at least be “passing” ?
“Ophelia!” She barked, definitely too roughly. A very young, very blonde young woman stepped up to the station Art was standing at. She was a midshipman, and so had arguably less experience than the three enlistedboys in the Cargo Bay, but at least she was an officer. “Go make sure those boys keep their mouths shut.” Ophelia looked clueless. “They’re very nice, but very chatty. And if any of our ‘visitors’ are out of their pods… Temporal Mechanics rule number one - don’t tell them anything about the ‘future.’ ”
The blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl of about nineteen scurried off, and Art couldn’t help feeling bad that she now looked scared. The Security Chief with the Klingon-dominant genes growled, and brought up the video feed from the Cargo Bays so she could at least watch.
== Paul, you took away the ship’s NPC list, so I WILL be making my own!! You did this to yourself!! ==