Post by jec6613 on Sept 29, 2011 17:55:28 GMT -8
Mark took a second to absorb what Commander Wallace had said. He hadn't meant to be discourteous, but apparently he had been. He quickly ran through in his head some method of rectifying the situation. This was a new ship, and so the crew wasn't accustomed to his mannerisms yet. The same ones that had failed to endear him to previous crew members.
Pulling a PADD to him, he quickly loaded a file onto it from the Talon's computers, then nodding to his fellow cockpit occupants he said, "Excuse me," and stood up and walked over to the replicator. "Two dozen assorted finger sandwiches and one pot of coffee, with containers of cream and sugar on a tray, and six mugs." The replicator complied and a few seconds later it sat in front of him. Putting the PADD under his arm, he picked up the tray and walked it to the lounge in the back.
Setting it down silently in the center of the table, he turned to the woman he recognized only from the crew profile as Commander Wallace and said, "I'm sorry sir, my mind was on the mission." Well, it was mostly true. That, and he was thinking about the last time, outside of training at the academy, he was in a primitive situation. He had had the same equipment then, when he spent a summer in Canada with his foster father - the last family he had been with before entering the academy. He had been a member of the Dakota Sioux, and after passing his exams they had gone to the wilderness with nothing but a knife and a tomahawk and some basic clothing and water containers and a tinder box. The tomahawk had been a gift from his foster father, a family heirloom, but the knife blade he had forged himself with the help of an actual blacksmith - a simple five inch utility knife, with a handle of wood, held together with rawhide strips. He felt the weight of it strapped to his boot, under his trousers. They had spent eight weeks together living off the land. Mark had made sure when he replicated his shirt, trousers, belt, boots and tunic, that they were primarily utilitarian due to that experience.
He wondered when he'd get the message that the same knife was going on a first contact mission. Probably not for a few days. He was Mark's only regular correspondant.
"Oh, and Lieutenant Roderick," he turned and handed her the PADD, "I thought you might enjoy some reading material for the trip down. It's the work I did related to the next generation warp core we'll get at our next refit while I was at Jupiter Station."
"I didn't get your names, "he said, turning to the other two, "But I'm Mark Engelhardt, assistant chief of engineering. I need to get to the cockpit quickly, but I'm sure we'll get to know each other soon enough." Mark waited to hear their replies, and awaited the dismissal signal from Commander Wallace so he could return.
Tag: Anybody in the back of the runabout.
Pulling a PADD to him, he quickly loaded a file onto it from the Talon's computers, then nodding to his fellow cockpit occupants he said, "Excuse me," and stood up and walked over to the replicator. "Two dozen assorted finger sandwiches and one pot of coffee, with containers of cream and sugar on a tray, and six mugs." The replicator complied and a few seconds later it sat in front of him. Putting the PADD under his arm, he picked up the tray and walked it to the lounge in the back.
Setting it down silently in the center of the table, he turned to the woman he recognized only from the crew profile as Commander Wallace and said, "I'm sorry sir, my mind was on the mission." Well, it was mostly true. That, and he was thinking about the last time, outside of training at the academy, he was in a primitive situation. He had had the same equipment then, when he spent a summer in Canada with his foster father - the last family he had been with before entering the academy. He had been a member of the Dakota Sioux, and after passing his exams they had gone to the wilderness with nothing but a knife and a tomahawk and some basic clothing and water containers and a tinder box. The tomahawk had been a gift from his foster father, a family heirloom, but the knife blade he had forged himself with the help of an actual blacksmith - a simple five inch utility knife, with a handle of wood, held together with rawhide strips. He felt the weight of it strapped to his boot, under his trousers. They had spent eight weeks together living off the land. Mark had made sure when he replicated his shirt, trousers, belt, boots and tunic, that they were primarily utilitarian due to that experience.
He wondered when he'd get the message that the same knife was going on a first contact mission. Probably not for a few days. He was Mark's only regular correspondant.
"Oh, and Lieutenant Roderick," he turned and handed her the PADD, "I thought you might enjoy some reading material for the trip down. It's the work I did related to the next generation warp core we'll get at our next refit while I was at Jupiter Station."
"I didn't get your names, "he said, turning to the other two, "But I'm Mark Engelhardt, assistant chief of engineering. I need to get to the cockpit quickly, but I'm sure we'll get to know each other soon enough." Mark waited to hear their replies, and awaited the dismissal signal from Commander Wallace so he could return.
Tag: Anybody in the back of the runabout.