Posted by Lieutenant Miranda Martel (Chief Engineer) in Lost in the Crowd - Side-sim

Posted by Gamemaster Alias Smith N. Jones, Esq. (Gamemaster) in Lost in the Crowd - Side-sim

Posted by Lieutenant Miranda Martel (Chief Engineer) in Lost in the Crowd - Side-sim
Posted by… suppressed (3) by the Post Ghost! 👻
It was approximately 17:30 hours. After chow time for all the shifts. Breakfast for gamma. Lunch for beta. Supper time for alpha. Space was limited with only enough seating for twenty-eight people at a time. But not everybody came in at the same time either. Never the less, most of the latter two shifts had returned to duty. A few of Alpha group were chatting off to the side, or were around the small gaming area.

Even though they were officially burned, blacklisted, with the Federation, and a crew of mutineers and soon-to-be-pirates and murderers… they still maintained some semblance of discipline, order, and respect. Though nobody was in uniform anymore, per their cover. She’d been quick to ditch her own immediately, even though in some ways she wore it almost like armor most of the time. Now it was just her in dark cargo pants, functional boots, and a sleeveless dark top that showed some of the scars along her midriff. And of course the visible cybernetics along the left side of her temple and eye. The one they’d replaced.

Miranda sat apart, staring at a padd resting on the table without really seeing it. A half-eaten plate of an alfredo style pasta dish sat in front of her, along with something that looked alcoholic. A few of the operations group, including a few engineers drifted by, with an occasional “Hey boss.” or “Hey Lieutenant” in greeting.

NE Hammer paused, drifting closer. “Hey, bosslady. You alright there?”

She flashed him a strained smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m alright. Just reading some of the reports, now that we’re actually out of the nebula. We didn’t have any real shakedown time. So I’m looking at how we’re doing, and if anything is about to break on us.”

NE Hammer nodded. “Alright. You let me know if you need anything?” She nodded and told him she would.

A minute later she’d lapsed back into silence and was staring a hole through the table without really seeing it. She swiped down to another section of the report she wasn’t really reading and sighed, then downed her glass.

Martel

A shadow fell over her and a body sat down at the chair opposite her. “Chief, you look like you aren’t having just the absolute best time ever.” the FedSec agent said. “Feel like taking a walk? Or you wanna stay here and drink?” the older man asked.

Pikelsimer

“There really isn’t anywhere to go on a Brazen-class destroyer,”she murmured, then began cleaning up her space, preparing to leave.

“She’s mad she missed the party in Sickbay.”

Miranda shook her head. “No. That’s not it at all,” she said, her tone low, quiet, and flat, almost dead.

The Andorian sat down next to Pikelsimer and smiled at the two, antennae questing forward slightly. The ebony cane was hung on the edge of the table. He had the beginnings of a rather glorious black eye, or in his case, darker blue eye… He held a cup of something neon orange that steamed slightly, clearly a hot beverage. Zareth took a sip and then held the hot glass to his forehead for a long moment. “I guess we’re all having that kind of day…”

-Zareth, CSO

True, there was some anger there, but if it was really that bad she would have been in the cargo bay pounding hot steel, or on the holodeck taking it out on a punching bag. If Zareth concentrated on the chief, he would notice elevated temperature, blood pressure, and even variation to her bio-electric field. But whatever was going on didn’t seem to be physical. She was drawn in, guarded, wearing her shoulders for earrings. But her expression and other body language was about as blue as Zareth himself.

Martel, the idiot

Pikelsimer ignored the CSO for the moment, concentrating on the person across from him. Years of reading people made it plain to see… she was in trouble. “So… is it the mission that has ya down? Or something else, Miranda?” Micah asked, using her first name purposefully. “I may not look it, but I can be a good listener. And this one here-” and he jerked a thumb at Zareth, “- even has extra ears. So give us a shot. Whats eating at ya?”

Pikelsimer

The look she gave Pikelsimer could have bored a hole through tritanium. “Geeeeee, where do I start.” She shook her head, letting her gaze fall, looking anywhere but at either of them. “Whoever slotted me for this op is an ass. I shouldn’t be here. Not that my skills aren’t up to snuff, but after what happened on the Shamshir… which I’m assuming you read my file… Whoever put me here should have known that it would be a severe PTSD trigger. Not the ship but the operation. ORRRR .. maybe they thought, by some twisted logic that having dealt with something similar I’d be ideal to throw back into the mix. And yeah, that might be true. Maybe I have a–” she brought both hands up, making finger quotes–“‘cognitive model of malevolence.’ Which means I’m better prepared than some of the yuppies on this tub.”

She scoffed and shook her head. “Soon as I learned the mission profile I went into one hell of an anxiety attack. Which then lead me to find out how inept our ‘ship’s counselor’ is.” Her tone was dripping with bitterness and sarcasm at that. But then her expression dropped. The real issue was just there, just under the surface now. “I thought I found…” She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing at her left eyebrow with her left hand, one finger really. Almost as if her cybernetic implants were bothering her.

“Doesn’t matter what I thought I found. I was dumb and naive. Wasn’t real, doesn’t matter. And so… yeah. Now I’m in Hell all on my own again. Doesn’t matter either. I’ve got a job to do. Fight now. Cry later. Assuming we get the job done. Assuming the next Federation ship we run into doesn’t rip us in half on sight. Assuming there’s even a shred of actually getting my f2#$^ng life back.”

“And yeah, I know. I opted to stay on and do the job. But who else was gonna do it? NE Hammer?” She shook her head. “Boo hoo,” she muttered to herself.

Martel

The Andorian’s demeanor changed, a lot more of the real Zareth peaked through his grim expression. “You’re right about all of it except one thing…” his gravelly voice was soft, but stern. “Yes, the brass makes decisions that don’t make sense, particularly regarding one’s skill set versus one’s state of mind and mental health. However… You aren’t alone. We’re in this hell together, Chief. When we’re here in this situation, we have to take care of each other.” Zareth took a sip of tea. “…And we will. I give you my word.” He glanced sideways at Pikelsimer, a look which spoke volumes if the man had read his file.

-Zareth, CSO