AT/D03-10 - Crew Quarters

[Tyra Crawford]

== On Deck 03, Department Heads have relatively spacious quarters. The main area contains a work desk, table with four chairs, lounge area with seating including upholstered chairs and couches. The bedroom usually has a ‘Full XL’ sized mattress, with dressers and closets. They also have a spacious bath with separate shower, grooming area, and refreshment facilities.

Deck 04 houses quarters for Commissioned ‘Junior’ Officers. Designed for double occupancy, there is a shared lounge area, and shared bathroom. Each officer has their own room with small desk, chair, dresser, and a ‘Twin XL’ mattress.

Finally, Enlisted Quarters are found on Deck 10. These are premium ‘dormitory-style’ areas designed for quadruple occupancy. Two private rooms each contain two ‘Twin’ sized mattresses, with a locker or dresser for each person. There are shared refreshment and shower areas, as well as a shared lounge.
==

[Carol Harriman]

== Carol Harriman's quarters == 

Carol took her time to arrive back on the Artemis, leaving her time to get settled in her quarters and take a walk around the ship. There were new crew members mixed in with the returning members, and she mingled a little before returning back to her quarters for a quick refreshing shower and then to get officially on the clock. She unpacked a few of her things, including a few photos she placed around her quarters before taking a quick shower and getting ready, dressing in her uniform.  

Well... here I am again. Now what?   Carol opened up her PADD and began recording as she slowly walked around the room. 

"Carol Harriman, tactical officer..." 

She turned off the recording and sat down on the couch. Yea. Now what Carol?   Her hands reached up and clasped behind her head as she inhaled and exhaled.  Her hands returned down to her lap, her head sinking into the couch. Her eyes drifted around the room and then slowly closed.

[Omdor Jaein]

==Chief Engineer's Quarters, Deck 3==
==0600 Hours, launch day==

Jaein woke up in a strange bed, an alertness that hadn't really left him taking him in moments from lying prone on the bed to standing up beside it before he really registered what was happening. He stopped and sighed, sitting back down and stretching out his back and shoulders which were starting to protest being used so quickly. I thought that instinct had finally left, he thought; growing up a refugee from the Occupation had left him some scars, most of them mental. Many had healed, but every once in a while, something happened that made one rear it's head.

He finally stood, walking through the bare quarters towards where his bags had been dumped in the main living area. He hadn't bothered to unpack yet; there hadn't been enough time, for starters, but given the mission brief he figured there would be plenty of time while they were going back and forth and back and forth in the nebula. For now, then, he dug a uniform out of his bag along with his shaving kit and headed for the suite's bathroom.

A quick shower and shave later, he felt a little more alive than he had before. He looked at himself in the mirror, noticing a little more gray than had been there the day before, he felt. He debated for a minute whether he was imaging things, or whether that disastrous meeting the night before had really had that big of an effect. A sigh escaped him as he dismissed the thought; it wasn't worth worrying about. Mary Ellen would've scolded him if she knew that he was worrying about his hair, before simply laughing at her husband.

"Is it really that bad?" she had asked him over dinner last night. He'd finally met her half an hour after he was supposed to, at a little Human Italian restaurant she'd noticed tucked away on the promenade. She'd given him a glass of wine as soon as he sat down, reading his face.

He set the glass down, empty, with a sigh. "I don't know," he'd told her. "On the face of it, the place looks like a madhouse. A DH that basically has no emotional control and barely any restraint. A junior officer who seems to not have any filter and says whatever is on her mind. Another one that is - was? - dating the First Officer, who was also just arrested as an accessory to murder. And that's not even mentioning the political madness that seems to have resulted in two captains being aboard at once; one of them hired me, and she doesn't appear to be the one in command anymore."

She raised an eyebrow, having refilled both glasses and taken a sip of her own. "And you're still supposed to launch tomorrow morning?"

"0700, bright and early tomorrow." He didn't know how they were gonna do it, but he was determined Engineering wouldn't be the one slowing them down. He'd delegated to his shift leads to make sure everyone was back aboard or at least scheduled to report back no later than 0600, and he was late here because he'd been reviewing the manifest that LCdr Morgan had provided, making sure there wasn't anything he felt would still be needed. He had been impressed with her thoroughness, because he couldn't find anything they were missing or even just lacking enough of. "Of course," he said, "it's anyone's guess what the command staff will look like by that point."

She sighed and nodded as the waiter came up, and they had ordered and moved to happier conversations - about their children, her work on Bajor, and more.

He shook his head and combed his hair, coming back to the present, and moved back out to finish getting ready. Two boots, a jacket, tricorder on his hip, communicator on his jacket, and one final addition - a cup of coffee, double strong and black, fresh out of the replicator. He preferred to brew it from real beans, but as this was a temporary position he hadn't made any effort to get that set up. Replicated would do for now.

So fortified, he headed for the door and the lift.

[Rubicon Doyle]

== Some time before the current mission. ==

Wasn’t she just at Starfleet Academy yesterday?

It sure felt like it. 

Rubicon sighed as she adjusted the duffle bag on her shoulder, that was filled with some of the more ‘personal’ of her personal effects (the rest had already been transported here and dropped off by Artemis logistics, at least, that’s what she’d been told). It had actually been more like 72 hours since she’d been in San Francisco and gotten her first Fleet assignment. 

She didn’t think it would feel like this, again. That tingle of excitement at something new. The hint of trepidation to do something new. It was like the first time she’d jumped off the high diving board at the pool, the first time she’d kissed someone, the first time she’d had to save a life and been the one in charge. Rubicon had thought her days of feeling ‘that’ were over. The year from hell had put her through the mental, physical, emotional wringer. And once it was done stretching her, it put her through that vice and wrung her out again. 

But here she was. 

That tingle.

That trepidation.

Breathe Rubicon!
 
She did. Slowly in through the nose, and equally slowly out through the mouth. 

She wasn’t a newbie, still wet behind the ears; Rubicon was only new to this. She had easily been at least two decades older than the majority of the student population at Starfleet Academy—she had life experience up the wazoo. 

But still. Here she was, catching her breath. 

F— it. 

Rubicon hit the button on the small access panel next to the door. It chirruped a moment, recognizing her, and then opened the door to reveal her new quarters. She let out a breath. That hadn’t been so hard. Reporting in to the Chief of Security had been easier than this moment. But now it was done and she could move onto the next. 

She stepped across the threshold and into the space. 

It was small. Not much bigger than the space she’d had at Starfleet Academy. Rubicon was surprised to see only two bunks inside and not the four plus she’d been expecting. She raised an eyebrow at that. She’d been under the impression that as a midshipman she’d be sharing more of a dormitory space, but that didn’t seem to be the case here. Was this another mixup of paperwork, or did somewhere in personnel and logistics seen her age and decided to take pity on her? Either way, she didn’t mind. 

Of the two beds, one definitely looked like it was occupied; there were clearly personal effects in that side. The other was empty apart from the standard issue Starfleet bedding and the couple of crates of her personal items she’d had shipped aboard. Rubicon took the few steps to the empty bed and set her duffle down. 

“Hello?” She called out to the small room. “Anyone home?”

== Tag Star! ==

[Emily Star]

The sound of the door opening hadn’t registered with her, but the soft “Hello” pulled Emily from the bathroom. With her hair wrapped in a towel, she glanced at the new presence in the room. Her purple pajama pants and casual black tank top were a stark contrast to the uniformed figure standing there.

Quickly recovering, she offered a warm, easy smile. “Hi there,” she said, her tone bright and unhurried. “I figured I’d have a roommate, but I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.”

Emily stepped a little closer, her Vulcan-like features softened by a relaxed, approachable demeanor. She extended a hand, “I’m Emily Star. Medical. Which means if you get maimed, I'm all set to help.”

Her gaze flicked briefly to the duffle bag and back to Rubicon. “First days are a lot, huh? Get unpacked, meet new people, check in with your chief, and try not to get lost.” She gestured toward the empty bunk with a small nod. “Wish I could give you more of a grand tour, but it’s pretty simple: bed, bathroom, closet.”

Emily moved back to her bunk and flopped down onto it, loosening the towel around her head to tousle her damp hair. “Any questions? Comments?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as her smile softened.

=tag Rubicon=

[Rubicon Doyle]

There was a muffled response, before a side door opened and a woman stepped out. The two women were a show in opposites. The woman was a head taller than Rubicon, with high cheekbones and a warm but green tone flushed on her dewey cheeks. She was slender looking, but athletic enough. The other woman also seemed to be younger than Rubicon, though there was something about her that made it difficult to really judge. Nevermind the fact that Rubicon was in her uniform and the other woman was dressed casually and a towel wrapped around her head, Rubicon had clearly interrupted the woman’s nighttime (or maybe her daytime depending on shift?) absolutions. 

“Hi there,” she said, her tone bright and unhurried. “I figured I’d have a roommate, but I wasn’t quite sure what to expect.”

“Hello,” Rubicon smiled in return.

A hand was offered in greeting, Rubicon reached for it and gave it a firm shake in return. She could feel the steadiness of her new roommate’s grip, and immediately trepidation filled her stomach. No, please don’t tell me…

“I’m Emily Star. Medical.”—because of course. Is the universe conspiring against met?— “Which means if you get maimed, I’m all set to help.”

“Hopefully you won’t have to do that too much,” the humour in her voice felt forced, and Rubicon tried to laugh it off but that too felt so fake. She was certain that Star would be delightful in her own ways, but all Rubicon could feel was lurk of her former profession. “I’m Rubicon Doyle, Security. I shoot ‘em, you fix ‘em.”

“First days are a lot, huh? Get unpacked, meet new people, check in with your chief, and try not to get lost.” She gestured toward the empty bunk with a small nod. “Wish I could give you more of a grand tour, but it’s pretty simple: bed, bathroom, closet.”

“Hey now, I’m just appreciating the fact that I was assigned a double and not a quad,” Rubicon replied, setting herself down on her bed and reaching to unzip one of her boots, then the other. “Dorm life is definitely an experience but I’m glad someone somewhere took pity on these old bones and granted me a little peace and space.” 

Boots removed, Rubicon laid back on her brand new bunk. It felt weird to be starting over again. Sure, the four years at the Academy had come and gone. It had been an exciting challenge to learn something so not in her original skillset. But now she was in a place she could potentially start sprouting roots again. Could the Artemis be somewhere she could call home? That almost felt like a foreign concept to Rubicon, since her ex had thouroughly torn through all her ideas about what home should feel like. Rubicon rubbed her eyes. You are not too old for this.

“Any questions? Comments?” 

Rubicon looked over to Emily who was busy drying her hair with the towel. 

“Any Artemis tips and tricks? Haven’t met the Captain yet but saw her record… how does she seem?” Rubicon knew the drill with any knew assignment; it would likely take her a good six to eight weeks before she started to feel comfortable, and then another eight to feel confident in her role. All about learning the ropes, meeting the people, learning the quirks of the place. 

== Tag! ==

[Mara Calleja]

>> Bridge >>

Mara twisted her torso uncomfortably as she walked into her quarters. The adrenaline from the away mission had worn off and now it was time to pay the bill for her exertions on the qoH. The Klingon brothers had landed some good shots before she could take them out, and now she was really feeling it.

The Amazonian Security Chief kicked her boots off and made a beeline for the shower. She left her armour in a pile on the couch and everything else in the corner of the bathroom. Reluctantly she checked herself out in the mirror and sighed. The bruises really were epic. Angry purple patches covered most of her chest.

Fuck’s sake. I have got to get some thicker armour she thought, wincing as she touched the yellow patch in the middle of the dinner-plate sized bruise over her heart. It’s built for firefights, which is cool. But it ain’t much help to me. I do my work closer up. I could really use somethin’ that can take a few old school blows without crackin’ on me.

Calleja shook her head and climbed into the shower. Ever since she’d spent those few minutes in the slave compartment on the qoH, she’d felt… unclean. Like the blood and the fear that had permeated the chamber had coated her somehow. Despite herself, she shivered as she scrubbed the dried Klingon blood off her face.

I didn’t know it would bother me this much. It shouldn’t, but it does. I really really want to absolutely fuckin’ wreck whoever was givin’ the orders. Like carve my fuckin’ name on their jugular right before I break their fuckin’ neck.

Eventually Mara was satisfied that she’d cleaned every trace of the qoH off herself. She got dressed again in a clean uniform, wincing occasionally as pressure was put on the wrong spot, before heading to the coffee machine set up on a counter. It was the twin of the fire engine red appliance that she’d had set up in the Security office and produced the same caffeinated rocket fuel. The Bandaran had learned to appreciate really good coffee, and it was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself.

Pouring a cup, she leant back against the wall and sighed. It still hadn’t entirely sunk in that these rooms were hers now. The DH quarters aboard Artemis were bigger than the apartment she’d grown up in, and she’d shared that with her parents and sister.

Come a long way since then she mused. If I could go back and find me as a kid, and tell her where I’d end up… She’d never believe me. The thought made her smile to herself. She’d been well into her teens before she was even aware the Federation existed, never mind Star Fleet.

Still grinning, Mara finished her coffee and scraped her hair back into a rough ponytail. She clipped her holster to her belt and headed out. There was a duty to perform and it needed doing before she was called on again.

>> Medical Complex >>

[Aeryn Miller]

== Chief Science Officer's Quarters - Deck 03 ==

== After the Mission ==

It had taken three days in the end to complete their original mission, yet the in between was something Aeryn wasn't and hadn't forgotten in a hurry, of the mysteries solved, and the difficult choices that had been made. Choices not executed by their hand, but that didn't make it any easier to get over, at least when those faces, the stench and decay visited her late at night, as the redhead attempted to sleep. Deep down, Aeryn knew it would get easier, as it always did, and there had been the bonus of no injuries or fatalities during that second away mission. It was a win considering the unexpectedness of it all, and then life went back to normal, finishing what they had set out to do, what Science and Engineering had worked so hard to make sure the probes worked as efficiently as possible. There was no doubt in the DH's mind that it had been a success even with the detour. Yet if they had never been there, they would never have known what was lurking in the nebula, and for someone like Aeryn, it happened for a reason.

When she wasn't working or debriefing, the redhead spent most of her time in her quarters, recharging, dealing with the aftermath, so she could emerge whole again and ready for some shoreleave.

What that would entail, she didn't know, as this would be her first one as a single woman again, and while the prospect might scare some people, Aeryn wasn't like that, and all she needed was time. At that moment, however, the redhead was curled up on the sofa, padd in hand, reading a letter from her parents, which always brought a smile to her face, hearing about their news, and the life she had left behind at the research station. Naturally, Whiskers, her cat, came to inspect what was going on, and when Aeryn didn't fuss him decided to curl up on her lap, which made her laugh.

This was something to make the most of, and Aeryn relished it with the gentle hum of the ship reminding her that she was home.

[Lucy Devereaux]

== After the mission ==

Lucy tried to process what she had seen in the cloning facility. She had seen what was in the refrigeration unit after the door had been unlocked. She wished she hadn’t looked. Now she couldn’t forget. The Klingons were certainly without honor. The reason for the locked door didn’t feel like an intentional act, but she couldn’t be certain.

Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity.

The way they had removed the equipment in the main felt more like stupidity, but their treatment of the clones was undeniably malicious. The two that team 1 encountered confused her. She remembered who they had been cloned from and even though they were without their memories Lucy left the conversations to others.

She didn’t know how to make up for her own stupidity. She didn’t know if her apology would be rejected if she never tried. She never seemed to have enough courage and the time always seemed to slip away from her. You could avoid being an idiot by doing nothing, but people got hurt by inaction as much as stupidity.

Lucy couldn’t recall if the Obsidian Order had minimised their role with the Dominion to basic stuff. No race seemed to be without its secret intelligence department. The Romulans had the Tal Shiar, and then there was Section 31. The cloning facility could have been forgotten due to the deaths of those who knew and had taken their secret to their grave without telling anyone.

Now it had been erased permanently. The Artemis had come to this place to secure a nebula from invaders and smugglers and had discovered a forgotten conspiracy and those who decided to loot it for their own gain. Lucy was okay with blood, but she really wanted to forget what she had seen.

[Mara Calleja]

== On the way home ==

Mara laid the thin knife down on the side of the sink and splashed cold water over her freshly redone side shave. The right side of her head was bare skin, her chestnut brown hair brushed across the left and braided in the latest bout of restlessness.

She looked at herself in the mirror and sighed. The Chief of Security looked as haggard as she felt, dark circles forming around her eyes. It didn’t matter how hard she worked, how much she pounded the gym, she just couldn’t get tired enough to get any sleep beyond a cursory couple of hours here and there.

It ain’t like it’s some great mystery why Calleja thought to herself as she got dressed in black jeans and a simple long-sleeved pastel green top. My brain’s still runnin’ laps and it don’t matter how much I want it to just shut the fuck up and let me sleep…

With another, even more heartfelt sigh, she got herself a coffee from the replicator and then settled herself down on the couch to drink it.

Her quarters were in a state of disarray. There was a pile of armour marking a trail from the door to the bedroom where she’d stripped it off after returning from the clones’ moon. A pair of guitars were propped up, one against a table covered in empty plates and another against a keyboard, where they’d been left. The weapons safe was the exception - she’d at least had enough self-discipline to make sure everything potentially dangerous was locked up.

Mara’s dark eyes took in the mess and she shook her head slowly before taking a sip of coffee. Unbidden, her foot started to tap out a rapid rhythm on the floor as the accumulated nervous energy sought yet another release.

The Amazonian officer was feeling uncharacteristically insecure. She felt like she was justified in being happy with her performance on the mission. Before the paint had even dried on her name over the COS’ office, she was leading away teams into hostile situations. There had been some injuries on the qoH, but that was always going to be the case when fighting Klingons up close. With the tactical advantage down on the moon, she’d ruthlessly cut the garrison down and avoided any repeat. In both cases they’d achieved their goals, and the moon mission had been carried out whilst surrounded by officers who outranked her.

It was everything else that had her uncomfortable. She was a few days removed from losing her shit at pretty much everyone in a crimson tunic in the middle of a staff briefing. And that hadn’t even been the first time this year that her sharp tongue had gotten her in serious trouble with senior personnel. Mara still seemed to enjoy the confidence of Captain Crawford, or the CO wouldn’t have put her in charge of those missions. But the command structure itself was so much in flux, Mara wasn’t sure if that was enough.

Tyra’s in charge. Artemis is her ship, we’re her crew. But is she even supposed to be here? She was apparently smuggled on board when we left before. That’s all gonna have to be worked out. There’s that Givens bitch roamin’ around somewhere and she really does hate my guts, and I absolutely get why. Is she supposed to be in command and she just got quietly sidelined? There’s technically an FO but nobody is listenin’ to a damn word he says ‘cause we all know he’s just a placeholder till Coleman comes back or a proper replacement is found. So I really don’t know where I stand any more. Or where anyone else above me stands, for that matter.

The room was silent as she took another drink.

Then there’s bein’ in the room when a bunch of colonists decide to end it all, and someone’s gotta be there to make sure life is extinct before we blow it all to hell. I’ve killed plenty of people in combat, but it ain’t the same as watchin’ them all do it to themselves. They were just so… so fuckin’ calm about it. Like it was the logical decision. And then one after the other, down they all go.

I don’t get why it’s rattled me so much. It was my call to give them that option. It was the logical option. But here I am, still seein’ those hyposprays bein’ passed around on the back of my eyelids. What the fuck is wrong with me?

With another sigh, Mara came to the decision that she needed to talk to someone. All she was going to accomplish sat here on her own was new levels of impotent frustration.

But who do I go to that’s actually goin’ to be able to relate? I’d say maybe Robin, she was there with me on the moon, but I know she’s pissed at me for chuckin’ everyone out of the doctors’ lounge so I could have it out with Sydesh. Maybe let that one calm down before I go there.

There was someone that Calleja was pretty sure would understand what she was going through. Someone else who was slap bang in the middle of the command clusterfuck. Someone who had had her back at every turn, and someone who potentially could use some friendly company.

Is she gonna want to see me though? Her fingers drummed on the side of her mug before she shrugged. Fuck it. Let’s find out.

Mara drained the coffee and dumped the mug on the arm of the couch as she went to find a pair of boots, before leaving her quarters.

>> CO and FO Quarters >>