Cochrane looked at the incoming transmission, blinked, then looked again. Then he swore… loudly. Stabbing his finger into the desk interface, he activated the comms.

=/\= Lieutenant Grace to the Ready Room. Immediately. =/\= he said through gritted teeth. Rubbing his temples, he said softly to the empty room “How in the nine hells of Dracuj do they think we can get anything done when they keep swapping my crew around every ten seconds? I swear, I must have murdered kittens in a past life to deserve this…”

Cochrane, CO