In a jiffy.
::turns on heel to head for lift, too annoyed to even manage a nod to passing gaggle of crewmen::
You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think you're just avoiding hearing me out on that idea I sent to your desk, oh, weeks ago.
Frankly, I'm bothered by it. Since I do your paperwork, I'd at least like to think my opinion merits some consideration in the grand scheme of things. Being I seem to be first officer and all.
Holodeck one, Paris.
::ponders whether it's too late to turn this into a Maquis ship::
::settles on enjoying the fantasy, pushing up from seat and heading for bridge exit::
::gives fractional nod of negation at expectant looks from either side of lift, lieutenantkim
at Ops and annikahansen
temporarily working from tactical console::
Harry, keep things flowing. We need final shielding modifications finished yesterday. Seven, I want a map
of our slipstream path. If you know of any snags along the way we need to tweak.
::doesn't wait for acknowledgment::
::gives general glare at condescending order, nonetheless stepping off at deck fourteen::
::overrides security lock-out, relieved to see a relatively public program running::
::a relatively empty public program::
::barely manages a civil smile for Sandrine, looking around for organic life::
All right, sorry to break it to you, but playtime is ov...
::steps closer to bar, staring::
What are you doing?
::barely bats an eye at familiar, incredulous voice, carefully rearranging the row of half-emptied shot glasses on counter::
Trying to get drunk.
::shuts eyes, counting backward::
You don't have anything better to do, I guess?
::sits latest sampler down with a thunk, spinning on stool::
::folds arms, eying him calculatingly::
I'm not sure this is a good idea.
Well, neither am I if you want complete honesty, but that's mostly because I don't know why the hell we're doing it yet.
::twitches, resisting urge to borrow a glass::
You've been helping out with this all along and now you think it's a bad idea?
It was busy work, Commander. I didn't expect you would ever actually bother putting it to use.
That aside, it isn't even the technology I'm concerned with, my work is sound...
::lunges, not quite fast enough to keep him from sweeping liquid buffet off counter::
::growls when he plucks last glass from hand as well:
What are you doing?!
We're both better off without the temptation.
::steps back just in case...kids these days, no respect::
If you're so sure of your work, what's the problem?
::balls fist, giving counter a satisfactory thump::
Call it a gut feeling. And I have two guts.
I hope you have two livers too, or you could be in a world of trouble someday...
::cuts off obligatory lecture when doors open again, captainchakotay
She doesn't like the idea either!
::moves gaze from one to the other...spirits, like being trapped between two angry bulls::
::forces authority into tone::
I'll let you know when like and dislike becomes our standard for judging.
And drop the drink, Paris.
::watches former pilot open mouth to protest, then acquiesce, sitting tumbler on empty table nearby::
::barely makes eye contact with quarter-Klingon::
Ensign, unless you have a reason to stay...
Oh, so now it's Ensign...
::taps fingers on table...would like to put some dimples in his other cheeks::
::spits out verbal condescension in lieu::
I was here first, how's that?
::squares shoulders at cough from behind::
I'll be of as much use here as anywhere else.
::chooses to ignore...bigger battles::
::gives first officer a pre-emptive warning look, though::
I'll assume you haven't enlightened him? Fine.
::turns fully to offer update::
Astrometrics sent out a volley of sensor probes this morning. We were expecting readings on the magnetic fields noted yesterday, but found a little more. Chroniton particles.
The Krenim? This far out?
::doesn't even bother lowering voice::
It's been over a decade since we saw any sign of them.
And at least half that since we were in any condition to mount a defense.
The Doctor and Linnis have been working double time trying to recreate the inoculations he used back then, but they may not finish soon enough.
::rises, kicking chair back and inserting self into conversation::
And I told you, I've studied my ship's records, I can whip up shields if you just give me a chance...
There is no room for chance, Ensign
::continues explanation, pretending not to see furious recoil...just like having a ghost in the machine::
It wasn't an isolated field, and we were able to listen in on local subspace frequencies and cobble together an idea of what to expect beyond their range.
The Krenim have been here recently, and there's no reason to expect they won't come back.
::chances another look at miralparis
This isn't a resource rich area of space. The people we listened in on can't support their own defenses, much less ours, and we would have to travel at least fifty parsecs before even hope of clear territory.
::transfers gaze back to former pilot::
Is it your estimation that this ship is capable of supporting and protecting her crew for nearly six months without replenishment?
::licks lips, the image he was trying to convey more than clear::
But the slipstream will be just as chancy.
And that's why I want to run more simulations. We need to find as many bugs as possible and fix them now.
::quirks brow in direction of sulking quarter-Klingon::
Every set of eyes will help.
My eyes are sound.
::cracks a thin smile, all the surrender to personal sentimentality that can be allowed during times like these::
::deliberately pushes other faces and worries from mind...everyone has a job, and they expect the XO to do his::
::blinks when Sandrines dissolves, replaced by more utilitarian surroundings in a nanosecond...but moves quickly, stepping down and sliding into conn seat without hesitation::
We've been stumbling over a slight phase variance...