Post by Nathan Landry on Dec 22, 2015 8:05:15 GMT -8
The Eagle's Nest wasn't half as busy as it usually was. There was a barkeep behind the bar, as usual, cleaning glasses for what might end up to be a rush later. There was a young Ensign, sitting with her feet under her and a PADD in hand, a juice by her side as she read. A few other people were scattered here and there, leaning across tables with their heads together. And there was Nathan, pacing along the back wall, tapping his own PADD against his chin as he tried to figure out how to properly sum up the past weeks. How to sum up what was happening currently.
He hadn't caught more than a few words about the current situation. A handful of people from throughout the ship had been called to various places. Several people had told him--after he pressed them--that they'd seen two or three people heading to the security offices. Three of the senior officers, as a matter of fact, which left a rather few assumptions that could be made. Another investigation, likely. What was it with this ship?
The rest of it...well. Nathan had read the official reports, and the G'arik Alahr or whatever they called themselves seemed interesting. Lifeforms that reproduced at the slightest touch? Intriguing, definitely, though their main skill set seemed to consist of battering ships that hadn't done anything wrong. Or, at least, didn't know they'd done anything wrong.
Nathan paused by his chair, picking up the--sadly, only synthehol--whiskey that sat on the table, and took a gulp while he read what he had so far.
Historian's Log, stardate 87037.2, official report
We seem to have taken up our talent for trouble-finding once more. While testing an unknown device discovered during the ship's "tests", put on by the Pewdin (an occurrence your humble narrator was, unfortunately, quite indisposed for; see earlier report), the Talon discovered yet another surprise in space: a cluster of living tissue which, when brought aboard, began to grow at a prodigious rate. This newfound being--child, for lack of a better word--soon attracted the attention of the Ga'rik Alahr, a confrontational race with an interesting view of procreation.
Nathan dropped into his chair. After that, everything got a bit hazy for him. He'd spent most of his time in sickbay after that, and if truth be told, everybody was a bit depressed today, so finding somebody willing to talk, or share their logs with him, was difficult. Ericson was presumed dead, though Nathan had already heard rumors that the Kestrel had disappeared to go and find him. Some strange transportation device, Nathan supposed, had been the culprit. And there were interesting things going on despite the air of palpable mourning over the ones who had definitely been lost, but Nathan was tolerably certain that if he showed up in the security offices or on the bridge, he'd just get thrown off the ship. For good this time. And things had been going so well (for him, at least) that he didn't fancy that happening.
He drained the last drops of his whiskey. It was far too early in the day to ask for real stuff, and he knew that if he tried, the barkeep would look at him askance and shake her head. Starfleet. Such sticks in the mud.
Tag: Crewman Vrehu Coardi, Any
He hadn't caught more than a few words about the current situation. A handful of people from throughout the ship had been called to various places. Several people had told him--after he pressed them--that they'd seen two or three people heading to the security offices. Three of the senior officers, as a matter of fact, which left a rather few assumptions that could be made. Another investigation, likely. What was it with this ship?
The rest of it...well. Nathan had read the official reports, and the G'arik Alahr or whatever they called themselves seemed interesting. Lifeforms that reproduced at the slightest touch? Intriguing, definitely, though their main skill set seemed to consist of battering ships that hadn't done anything wrong. Or, at least, didn't know they'd done anything wrong.
Nathan paused by his chair, picking up the--sadly, only synthehol--whiskey that sat on the table, and took a gulp while he read what he had so far.
Historian's Log, stardate 87037.2, official report
We seem to have taken up our talent for trouble-finding once more. While testing an unknown device discovered during the ship's "tests", put on by the Pewdin (an occurrence your humble narrator was, unfortunately, quite indisposed for; see earlier report), the Talon discovered yet another surprise in space: a cluster of living tissue which, when brought aboard, began to grow at a prodigious rate. This newfound being--child, for lack of a better word--soon attracted the attention of the Ga'rik Alahr, a confrontational race with an interesting view of procreation.
Nathan dropped into his chair. After that, everything got a bit hazy for him. He'd spent most of his time in sickbay after that, and if truth be told, everybody was a bit depressed today, so finding somebody willing to talk, or share their logs with him, was difficult. Ericson was presumed dead, though Nathan had already heard rumors that the Kestrel had disappeared to go and find him. Some strange transportation device, Nathan supposed, had been the culprit. And there were interesting things going on despite the air of palpable mourning over the ones who had definitely been lost, but Nathan was tolerably certain that if he showed up in the security offices or on the bridge, he'd just get thrown off the ship. For good this time. And things had been going so well (for him, at least) that he didn't fancy that happening.
He drained the last drops of his whiskey. It was far too early in the day to ask for real stuff, and he knew that if he tried, the barkeep would look at him askance and shake her head. Starfleet. Such sticks in the mud.
Tag: Crewman Vrehu Coardi, Any