Post by Lt. Commander Liz Sur'Shess on Aug 8, 2014 19:28:22 GMT -8
The newcomer must have felt Liz's eyes on her because she looked over and gave a small, slightly awkward wave. At least, that was how Liz interpreted the expression on her face. She might have been frightened for all Liz knew, and there was a momentary worry, flashing through her mind, that it was because of what she was and not because they didn't know each other. Who knew what sorts of stories were circulating outside the Gamma Quadrant, what dour fears had been unlocked by propaganda-ridden broadcasts and angry warmongers who had nothing better to do than demonize the Klingon Empire with everything they had.
Or, what was more likely, the woman was simply not as social as many of the Talon crew were, and this was the supplied explanation Liz chose to retain. It was more comfortable, for starters, and given the equally awkward wave the young woman gave B'ranon, it was also more likely. She was a computer specialist, after all, and in Liz's experience those sorts were always less social than others. She was like that, for starters--though to be fair it had less to do with computers and more to do with a general prickliness that put people off...and she was quite happy with that fact.
"One of yours?"
Liz nodded. "I think so. We're shipping in several new crewers," she added, shrugging and leaning on the table again, folding her arms along the top of it, trying to ignore the fact that he was standing above her, hands pressed on the tabletop. It was an unconscious power stance, she was sure, and he was her friend, not some dream phantom come to kill her in the most horrible way he could possibly conjure. She had to remember that, had to separate all of that from now. She had a job to do still, and like he'd said...getting all caught up in her own mind wouldn't help. Well, maybe he'd not said precisely those words, but it was close enough.
The doors opened once more, hissing open to admit an entirely too chipper man who sauntered in as if he owned the place, clapping loudly and strolling up to the bar. "Well ain't this a beautiful space?"
Liz cocked an eyebrow at this loud declaration and almost-question. "And what about him?"
She snorted a laugh, unintentionally echoing the man's, and said in a low voice, "If that man's Starfleet, I don't want to see the rest of the new batch," she said, pressing her lips together as she critically surveyed the man. Apparently the two newcomers were going to make assumptions about one another; the young woman got up and went over to the bar, speaking to the man in civilian dress, apparently asking him for another drink. That was interesting--not that it didn't look as if the man thought he was in charge, per se. Then again, they were on a Starfleet ship. Lots of people acted like they were in charge.
Liz nodded towards the ongoing conversation, glancing up at B'ranon. "Do you ever wonder what possesses people to come out here? Do they know what they're getting into?" She almost felt sorry, in some ways, for the people who requested transfers here, or chose to find employment aboard the ship or the station. If the turnover rate on CO's didn't do a person in, it would be the sheer number of times one's life was threatened--Kahless knew Liz had been close to throwing in the towel, and she knew precisely how brutal the universe could be when at it's worst. She'd faced down more than a psychopaths in her time, after all. And yet people continued coming, kept on coming into this with their wide-eyed innocence, some of them, and some with the jaded cynicism of someone who thought they'd seen it all. And then the Gamma Quadrant would catch them by the throat and shake them about, and that would be the end of it.
The PADD at her elbow beeped again, another alert finding its way to her inbox. Her stomach lurched, just a bit, her heart attempting to jump up into her throat because no, it couldn't be Sig, it couldn't be some dry official report about Captain Monroe passing away at 1500 hours from heart failure or something else entirely. She refused to read that. Her hand, then, moved a bit slowly toward the PADD, fingers finding the on button and eyes quickly perusing the sent by line before she dared read the contents of the message. Thankfully, it wasn't from sickbay, and she found the air to breathe again (she still couldn't stomach even the thought of it, of coming so close and losing another Captain, the same Captain in twenty-four hours, snatched from under their noses again)....
It was an alert from the computer system about new access codes being forced through. Access codes that shouldn't have been activated until the next day, by the looks of it, and access codes that were now being used to pull data from every part of the ship, routed through the subprocessors in the main computer and being diverted to--of all places--a personal PADD. Raising an eyebrow, Liz pulled up the alert, searching for the culprit....
And her eyes went up, and landed on the tiny newcomer with the red hair, who was apparently very, very consumed in her PADD. Liz wasn't opposed to monitoring data, of course, and she was downright thrilled that there was somebody who cared about the computer system. Then again, if she could track the girl's progress through the computer system like she was, then anybody could, especially if they were hooked up to the station.
And she had better not be tampering with the rerouted power cells Liz had so carefully set up that afternoon because, if she was, there was going to be hell to pay.
"Just a second," Liz said to B'ranon, standing up and tucking the PADD against her chest. "I'll be right back. Don't drink all the vodka." She deliberately marched across the lounge, making a beeline for the young woman. As she drew closer, she saw that the girl really was completely consumed in her PADD, long hair half-hiding her face, her entire being apparently focused on the data that was flooding through her device. Well, she was about to meet her commanding officer. Should be exciting for her. Liz stopped a careful three feet from her and cleared her throat, hoping to capture her attention before she began, casually, "Hi there. I'm Lieutenant Commander Sur'Shess. I don't mean to be overly protective, but what do you think you're doing with my computer?"
Tag: @branon, @vi, @murph, Any
((ooc: baptism by fire baby aw yiss. ))
Or, what was more likely, the woman was simply not as social as many of the Talon crew were, and this was the supplied explanation Liz chose to retain. It was more comfortable, for starters, and given the equally awkward wave the young woman gave B'ranon, it was also more likely. She was a computer specialist, after all, and in Liz's experience those sorts were always less social than others. She was like that, for starters--though to be fair it had less to do with computers and more to do with a general prickliness that put people off...and she was quite happy with that fact.
"One of yours?"
Liz nodded. "I think so. We're shipping in several new crewers," she added, shrugging and leaning on the table again, folding her arms along the top of it, trying to ignore the fact that he was standing above her, hands pressed on the tabletop. It was an unconscious power stance, she was sure, and he was her friend, not some dream phantom come to kill her in the most horrible way he could possibly conjure. She had to remember that, had to separate all of that from now. She had a job to do still, and like he'd said...getting all caught up in her own mind wouldn't help. Well, maybe he'd not said precisely those words, but it was close enough.
The doors opened once more, hissing open to admit an entirely too chipper man who sauntered in as if he owned the place, clapping loudly and strolling up to the bar. "Well ain't this a beautiful space?"
Liz cocked an eyebrow at this loud declaration and almost-question. "And what about him?"
She snorted a laugh, unintentionally echoing the man's, and said in a low voice, "If that man's Starfleet, I don't want to see the rest of the new batch," she said, pressing her lips together as she critically surveyed the man. Apparently the two newcomers were going to make assumptions about one another; the young woman got up and went over to the bar, speaking to the man in civilian dress, apparently asking him for another drink. That was interesting--not that it didn't look as if the man thought he was in charge, per se. Then again, they were on a Starfleet ship. Lots of people acted like they were in charge.
Liz nodded towards the ongoing conversation, glancing up at B'ranon. "Do you ever wonder what possesses people to come out here? Do they know what they're getting into?" She almost felt sorry, in some ways, for the people who requested transfers here, or chose to find employment aboard the ship or the station. If the turnover rate on CO's didn't do a person in, it would be the sheer number of times one's life was threatened--Kahless knew Liz had been close to throwing in the towel, and she knew precisely how brutal the universe could be when at it's worst. She'd faced down more than a psychopaths in her time, after all. And yet people continued coming, kept on coming into this with their wide-eyed innocence, some of them, and some with the jaded cynicism of someone who thought they'd seen it all. And then the Gamma Quadrant would catch them by the throat and shake them about, and that would be the end of it.
The PADD at her elbow beeped again, another alert finding its way to her inbox. Her stomach lurched, just a bit, her heart attempting to jump up into her throat because no, it couldn't be Sig, it couldn't be some dry official report about Captain Monroe passing away at 1500 hours from heart failure or something else entirely. She refused to read that. Her hand, then, moved a bit slowly toward the PADD, fingers finding the on button and eyes quickly perusing the sent by line before she dared read the contents of the message. Thankfully, it wasn't from sickbay, and she found the air to breathe again (she still couldn't stomach even the thought of it, of coming so close and losing another Captain, the same Captain in twenty-four hours, snatched from under their noses again)....
It was an alert from the computer system about new access codes being forced through. Access codes that shouldn't have been activated until the next day, by the looks of it, and access codes that were now being used to pull data from every part of the ship, routed through the subprocessors in the main computer and being diverted to--of all places--a personal PADD. Raising an eyebrow, Liz pulled up the alert, searching for the culprit....
And her eyes went up, and landed on the tiny newcomer with the red hair, who was apparently very, very consumed in her PADD. Liz wasn't opposed to monitoring data, of course, and she was downright thrilled that there was somebody who cared about the computer system. Then again, if she could track the girl's progress through the computer system like she was, then anybody could, especially if they were hooked up to the station.
And she had better not be tampering with the rerouted power cells Liz had so carefully set up that afternoon because, if she was, there was going to be hell to pay.
"Just a second," Liz said to B'ranon, standing up and tucking the PADD against her chest. "I'll be right back. Don't drink all the vodka." She deliberately marched across the lounge, making a beeline for the young woman. As she drew closer, she saw that the girl really was completely consumed in her PADD, long hair half-hiding her face, her entire being apparently focused on the data that was flooding through her device. Well, she was about to meet her commanding officer. Should be exciting for her. Liz stopped a careful three feet from her and cleared her throat, hoping to capture her attention before she began, casually, "Hi there. I'm Lieutenant Commander Sur'Shess. I don't mean to be overly protective, but what do you think you're doing with my computer?"
Tag: @branon, @vi, @murph, Any
((ooc: baptism by fire baby aw yiss. ))