||[Feb. 3rd, 2010|11:29 am]
::runs hand through rebellious hair, quickly lowering it to stifle a yawn...apparently sleep in morning should have been extended to a sleep in day::
::blinks when a blur of mostly orange darts past::
Neelix? Neelix! Where's the fire?
::sighs when Talaxian halts and looks around with even more panic, offering self-translation::
What's the hurry?
::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...