Star Trek: Theurgy

EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

April 04, 2019, 10:22:44 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Corridors | Deck 15 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Brutus

Nator's eyes were beginning to itch. Between the smoke and plasma-evaporated duranium vapour still hanging in the air despite the best efforts of the environmental system, not to mention hir own fatigue, the Hermat was getting to a point where s/he wanted to curl up and be able to shut hir eyes. Probably not even sleep, just let hir eyes recover. But it beat watching reports scroll past a console screen, blandly dispatching teams hither and yon. S/he was a creature of action. Sitting was poisonous.

But even that was better than dealing with this band of apparently-concussed examples of imbecility.

"For the last time, Ensign, you're on the wrong relay."

"Lieutenant-" the crouching goldshirt complained, "- please. Look at the damage in here. It re-routed around the hole, so this is the proper line."

"It has not re-routed. It has fused. If you try and manipulate that relay - which I'm sure I don't need to remind you is part of the feed to the rapid-charge coupling for the fighter bay to charge the fighters' phaser capacitors during a scramble - all you'll do is further stretch our overworked and underpaid colleagues in Medical."

"I swear, I got this!"

Nator glanced at the nervous crewman off to the side, looking between her two bickering superiors, as s/he stepped out from behind the ensign. The other junior officer, another ensign, had gone off to look for a specialised tool. This one was convinced he didn't need it. S/he sighed. "Then, by all means."

The ensign reached forward again, and the instant that the magnaspanner touched the retaining bolts around the thick cable he was blown backwards across the corridor with a bang, a searing flash, and the ozone smell of further-ruined conduit. Nator didn't even watch him go; just raised hir gaze to the deckhead with a barked, "Grief! Crewman, check he didn't fucking kill himself." She was all too happy to comply.

Stupidity may well be a crime, but that didn't mean it mandated the death penalty.

Nator leaned into the smoking inspection space, swearing colourfully in Hermat and with increasing volume as s/he surveyed the havoc the moron ensign had wrought. A wonder the man could dress himself in the morning, let alone be trusted with a spoon to eat breakfast.

"What is going on here?" came a mostly-familiar voice. Nator wheeled around, still a little wild-eyed.

"WHAT-" s/he started, before remembering to moderate hirself a little late, "- can I help you with-" Ah, shit the bed. Two solid pips, one hollow. "-um, Commander?"

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

Reply #1 – April 05, 2019, 04:29:16 AM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Bridge/turbolift | Deck 01 - 15 | Vector 01 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Top Hat 
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Having left the Captains ready room, Natalie immediately made a bee line for the turbolift. She rattled off some random floor and then ordered Thea to halt the lift. it came to a gentle stop between floors and sucked in a shaking breath. "Fuck. Just....fuck. You have work to do. You have to hold it together goddammit," she hissed at herself. She sniffled, and shut her eyes. That wasn't the smartest move because as much as she'd manage to get herself under control, she could see Sten.

Her head hit the back of the lift and she shook for a moment, arms wrapped around her middle. The meeting with Ives had been, on the whole, good. She had been given tasks, and she would rise to that. She didn't have time for this. And if you're honest...you're afraid to see who else is on that list. Who else you've missed?

Sucking in a long, slow breath, Natalie stood up and tucked her pad away, running her hands through her hair, pushing it back, away from her face. She fished out a hair tie and pulled it into a tail at the nape of her neck.That would have to do. Swallowing, she spoke up again.

"Thea. Can you please tell me where Lt. Nator 159?"

=/\=Lt. Nator 159 is located on Deck 15, Section 22.=/\= The voice of the ships AI responded precisely. Nodding a bit, Natalie sucked in one more breath, and smoothed out her skirt. She held the PADD up and blanked the screen, taking a look at her reflection. Yes, that will have to do.

"Deck 15, section 19," she ordered. That was the closest turbolift door to the section in question. She felt the lift resume its decent as she stood straight again. Quietly, she murmured, "I'd appreciate it if you could keep that little moment to yourself." She assumed the AI was aware of what had happened. She got no response, but she told herself the lights in the cart got a little bit softer. Maybe it was all in her head, but Thea  was back and integrated to the ship. So she allowed herself to believe it all the same.

[Corridors | Deck 15| Vector 02]

Natalie stepped out of the lift into a smoke filled hallway, and immediately brought a hand up, to cover her mouth. She coughed, and blinked her eyes rapidly, before moving over to a wall panel and pulling up a damage report. There was a relay up ahead that was being reparied, or bypassed, the report was unclear.  Waving a hand in front of her face, she strode onward, starting to catch bits and pieces of the conversation.

She recognized the voices now, and her frown deepened. She could make out Nator saying something to the effect of "By all means" which could not be good. She hurried her pace up just in time to hear the corridor explode ahead of her. She was knocked back, onto her ass, letting out a startled squawk as the whole subsection shook with the impact. That didn't last long.

Cursing under her breath, she stood back up, and stalked forward at a rapid pace. She rounded the corner to see go Lt. Nator go from towering over a highly injured Ensign and the crewman kneeling by him, tending to the wounds to moving to the open junction to inspect the damage done. S/he looked disgusted, but not with the injury, but the mechanical mess. And this is my best option for Assistant Chief of Operations?

"What is going on here?" Snapped Natalie, as she came to a stop just behind Nator, her arms crossed under her bust. Bloody happening all over again she thought, face showing her ire.

"WHAT-" There was a pause, "- can I help you with-" S/he turned around, and Natalie was given the pleasure of seeing hir  reaction. "-um, Commander?"

"Lieutenant Nator 159, you are the gift that just keeps on giving, aren't you?" Natalie asked, not really expecting an answer. She looked around, down to the ensign on the floor. "Stay put," she said and knelt by the injured man. She scowled darkly and looked him over. "Of all the hair brained....Stark to sickbay. We're going to need a medic up here. Deck 15, Section 22." she tapped her badge as she spoke. Then she stood and moved down the hall to retrieve a med kit and passed it to the enlisted woman.

"Anti burn ointment. Get it sprayed on him. The doctors will see to the rest but that should stabilize him." This was not the first time Natalie had seen something like this. Seeing the other woman snap to her duties, now that she'd been handed the med kit, and seeing that the injuries likely weren't life threatening, Natalie turned back to Nator resisted the urge to strangle her soon to be Assistant.

"Lieutenant, in what world do you think it is acceptable to allow Ensigns to explode themselves to teach them a lesson?"

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

Reply #2 – April 09, 2019, 11:16:13 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Corridors | Deck 15 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Brutus

The human spoke, and Nator remembered her well at last. Stark; not just another senior goldshirt, but hir boss. Naturally, it could have been no one else. Idly, s/he wondered if that meant that this was now a habit, or this sort of encounter would have to happen for a third time before it counted.

"Lieutenant Nator 159, you are the gift that just keeps on giving, aren't you? Stay put."

The Hermat grumbled to hirself near-silently as s/he bent back to the inspection hatch, poking around inside the sparking mess with one insulating clawtip, as the commander called for a medic. Nator gave an exploratory sniff. Doesn't even need a medic. It's all superficial. Well.. mostly superficial. Barely any scorched-fat-smell in there at all. Should have listened.

Not wanting to stand around useless, s/he picked up a plasma torch and began cutting away the extra bits of fused conduit, crouching down to get a better angle. A boot heel clicked against the deck behind hir. "Lieutenant, in what world do you think it is acceptable to allow ensigns to explode themselves to teach them a lesson?"

S/he clicked the little cutter off, the spearing flame disappearing, and s/he let hir frustration speak for hir. "Well, given that he thought he knew better than the person who designed this entire section," s/he called over hir shoulder for the ensign's benefit before lowering hir voice again and addressing Stark once more, "that particular ensign was worse than a man down and an accident waiting to happen anyway." S/he gestured vaguely at the maintenance space. "I mean, look at this. What would have been a.. twelve-minute repair with the proper tools is now going to take a couple of hours and three people to swap out this whole unit. And a man in sickbay, taking up people and resources there."

In a rare moment of introspection, Nator realised s/he probably wasn't having the effect s/he wanted. Standing, s/he turned to face Stark dead on. Her face didn't look impressed... but the sound of running feet reached them. "I- ugh, I got a stitch... I got it! I found the- oh damn." The other ensign, who had gone to find the aforementioned proper tools, had returned. "Bancroft? You okay, buddy?" he looked between the supine officer propped up on the bulkhead and the crewman applying the burn gel, to the two seniors over by the smoking conduit.

Bancroft wheezed and gestured weakly in response. The crewman shushed him, continuing to spray him down while she awaited the promised medic.

"I have no desire to see anyone injured, Commander. Nor to micromanage every team into uselessness. But I don't tell them what not to touch for the sake of it."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

Reply #3 – April 10, 2019, 06:10:28 PM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Corridors | Deck 15 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Top Hat 
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Something could be said for Nator's desire to finish the job, as s/he crouched down to fiddle with the damaged conduit. Hir people skills, Natalie concluded, were shit. Not the most professional of evaluations, she would have to privately admit, but at the same time, the archaic term seemed to be uniquely qualified to describe the Ops Chief's current opinion of her soon to be right hand hermat.

Acerbic. The word you are looking for, Natalie, as Acerbic. Now, in truth, she didn't need an Assistant Chief of Operations that everyone liked. She needed one that everyone respected. That would be listened to. But there was one thing that she did need out of the person that she would most often turn to for getting the jobs done that her department had call to do: she needed an officer that gave a good goddamn about the people reporting to them.

The question was, could Nator 159 manage to actually care about hir subordinates, not just whip the department into shape. S/he was going to have to help integrate multiple crews while keeping everyone on schedule. And while Natalie personally agreed that the poor wounded Ensign Bancroft had shown signs of being a right idiot just now, that wasn't exactly cause for letting them get blown up - nor a great sign of Nator's ability to teach.

She paused in her building tirade to watch as one of the other Operations staff arrived with the tool in question that Bancroft had been too impatient to wait for. The 'newcomer' just shook his head and stared, from his wounded colleague to ...to his boss. Natalie could practically hear his thoughts, that classic 'oh shit' moment as the poor man straightened up to attention. Natalie, with her hands still on her hips, but looking from Nator to the Ensign now, let out a sigh.

"Go ahead and leave that here. The repairs are going to be a touch more involved now that Ensign Bancroft decided not to listen to a superior officer. Once medical sees to him, you and crewman," she paused, looking over at the woman treating Bancroft, "Larson here will attempt to mitigate the damage done by Bancroft. If he's not too injured to be of help after he's treated, he'll assist the two of you."

At this, Natalie pointedly stared at Bancroft, whom swallowed but stayed still under Crewman Larson's care. "And you will do exactly what these two tell you. Consider it an object lesson in learning how to listen, Mr. Bancroft." Natalie was not one to be cold, or angry. She wasn't one that liked talking, all that much at all. At least not for most of her career so far. She was quite, insular, the stereotypical introvert.

That seemed to have been a casualty of the Theurgy's months long flight from a compromised Starfleet. She worried about Bancroft, and would be making a point of having a long, private talk with the young man, after this mess was all over. Right now though, she didn't have time to be kind.

And more and more, being around Lt. Nator seemed to bring out her own snappish side. She turned back to the hermat and crossed her arms under her bust now, meeting the others gaze. S/he was just alien enough, just predator enough, to make the hairs on the back of Stark's neck rise up. Her blue eyes narrowed, just a little bit, as she processed Nator's words. Without a word of her own, she jerked her head to the side, and stepped down the corridor, expecting the junior lieutenant to follow in her wake.

Satisfied that s/he had indeed followed, Natalie walked a bit down past the corridor, out of easy earshot of the two ensigns and the one crewman they'd left behind to deal with the disaster in the hall way. The Ops Chief came to a stop, stared at the other officer for a moment, and then let out a long, weary sigh.

"Nator, you are going to have to learn how to manage these people. Without allowing them to be blown halfway across a corridor. Not micromanage, but manage. Your rank is junior Lieutenant. Bancroft is an Ensign. Not a particularly wise one, either, but one that is clearly eager to the job, just in need of tempering.

"An order from you should be enough to suffice to keep him from doing something grossly stupid. Now, I'll grant you he'll probably never make this mistake again," she said, not really wanting to 'grant' Nator any damn thing, but trying to avoid a drag out shouting match.

"But we are already too short staffed to let something like this happen again. And as unfortunate as it may be for the both of us, making sure the rest of the department does its job, and does it well, just became your top priority, Lieutenant." She could see the confusion in Nator's expression, and hear it in hir response. It was mean of Natalie, and she'd hate herself just a little bit for it later, but she smiled at the confused officer.

"Why, for both our sins, Lt. Nator, you've just been promoted. I do hope you are capable of proving to me you can handle the responsibility of Assistant Chief of Operations. Preferably with out barbecuing any more of my Ensign's."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

Reply #4 – April 15, 2019, 10:53:46 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Corridors | Deck 15 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Brutus

The Commander - Stark, s/he forcibly reminded hirself - looked unsettled. Perhaps a Human thing... perhaps just a thing of this Human. Nator didn't blink often relative to a lot of other species, and s/he had tended to look directly at people addressing hir even before hir injury mandated that s/he had to in order to avoid forgetting what they looked like. Several people had taken hir body language as a challenge before; Nator simply blamed the predator in hir.

Stark jerked her head and walked off away from the juniors, clearly intending that s/he follow. Nator did so, leaving the tools against the bulkhead to avoid being underfoot.

"Nator, you are going to have to learn how to manage these people. Without allowing them to be blown halfway across a corridor. Not micromanage, but manage. Your rank is junior Lieutenant. Bancroft is an Ensign. Not a particularly wise one, either, but one that is clearly eager to the job, just in need of tempering. An order from you should be enough to suffice to keep him from doing something grossly stupid. Now, I'll grant you he'll probably never make this mistake again..."

"We'd gone back and forth for a couple of minutes already. He was adamant, and incorrect. I'm more than halfway through my forty years already, Commander." The hanging implication being that s/he didn't think s/he had the time to spare someone like Bancroft. Others, maybe s/he did. "But-"

"But we are already too short staffed to let something like this happen again. And as unfortunate as it may be for the both of us, making sure the rest of the department does its job, and does it well, just became your top priority, Lieutenant." Hir head tilted a fraction, brows twitching a little closer together, confusion plainly painted on hir face. Stark smiled back. Nator kept hir face calm.

"Why, for both our sins, Lieutenant Nator, you've just been promoted. I do hope you are capable of proving to me you can handle the responsibility of Assistant Chief of Operations. Preferably without barbecuing any more of my ensigns."

Nator took a breath to respond, held it, then let it out as s/he looked off to one side and put hir hands on hir hips. Positions of responsibility weren't new to hir - s/he'd held a team lead post at the shipyards, before meeting Herrold - but this was something else. Hir record was hardly classified; most of the staff here would know s/he'd been demoted from such a position before, and some of them would know s/he'd been put into stasis because of a brain injury.

If s/he were to be honest, s/he'd been coasting on the fact that no one in their right minds would have given hir this responsibility again so soon. S/he hadn't really been making an effort to moderate hirself, nor to cushion hir words with the sort of mewling platitudes most binos apparently required to avoid offence. S/he was already sixty percent of the way through the average Hermat lifespan, being 24 standard years old, and that didn't count what recovering from hir head wound might do to hir remaining years. Nator wasn't joking when s/he indicated that s/he didn't have time to.

The metabolism that allowed Hermat to heal so quickly from physical injuries would eat hir alive from the inside out as soon as hir cell replacement rate started to drop.

"I see," s/he said, finally. A twinkle of amusement in hir eye, and a slightly self-deprecating tone that was a rare thing for Nator regardless of circumstance, then: "Perhaps the Bancrofts in the department will listen to me when I try to save them from being barbecued in future?"

A pair of haggard-looking blueshirts jogged down the passage past them towards the huddle opposite the ruined junction. Nator bounced on hir feet twice, a muscle in hir jaw twitching as s/he watched them go. "This is the second time we have gotten off on the wrong foot, Commander. I... apologise." The word sounded as if it tasted foul in hir mouth, but hir face was earnest enough. "I am in a better place to commit to prevent it happening again, now."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

Reply #5 – April 16, 2019, 02:57:08 AM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Corridors | Deck 15 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @Top Hat 
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Personal log, Stardate, today: mark this day as a personal holiday. Today, I managed to shut Nator up. Natalie wrote the little entry in her head. Like as not, she would not actually add the pithy line to the actual recording that she had fallen into the habit of making. They stressed it in the Academy, the need to make an officers log, and the suggested benefit of a personal log. The one was official. The other would be locked away, private, until at least 50 years after she passed. But even then, when she and Nator were long gone, she was not quite sure she wanted to be that much of an ass.

But it was tempting.

All the same, Natalie gave the hermat all the time that s/he needed to sort through hir thoughts at the news. Natalie was aware of Nator's record. And yet, s/he was still the best candidate in the crew's current compliment that was available to Nat. S/he was it. True, Natalie might be able to recruit a right hand from one of the new crews that had been shoved into their ship's cargo holds, or numerous empty quarters, from the Dauntless, Bellerophon, Cayuga, or Endeavour. And there may come a time in the very near future, after they sorted out how to integrate the crews, that Natalie would do just that. After all, with the size of this ship and the duties that were needed....

But right now, Natalie needed someone she could trust. And as weird as it was to say that about Nator, s/he had been there, alongside Natalie and the late Christian Hendricks, back when the Theurgy wasn't a fugitive ship on the run from their own Fleet. S/he had the experience with the vessel. And s/he had a few more days now, to get a hold of hirself. S/he'd not died from the injury and though Natalie was not keen on admitting it, s/he seemed to be coping well enough with hir responsibilities.

Just that nasty habit of letting Ensigns get blown up. If we can break you of that, Lieutenant... As if s/he'd read her mind, the newly prompted officer spoke up, and Nat found herself smiling again, perhaps despite herself.

"Well I certainly hope so. But they are Ensigns. It may take some doing," the Ops Chief judiciously allowed. The distraction of medic's pulled Stark's blue eye's away from the androgynous officer, and she followed their path around the curve of the corridor, likely to tend to Bancroft's wounds. They snapped back to focus on Nator when s/he did the last thing that Natalie thought the Hermat capable of. She tried to keep the surprise off of her face at hir apology, not wanting to ruin the moment, and the effort being made. Even if she had a strong impulse to update that mental log entry with a baffled addendum.

"I am gratified to hear that, Lieutenant. I have the faith that you will ensure that a third such event will not crop up," she spoke carefully now, but with an earnest look in her eyes as she held Nator's unblinking gaze. This time, there seemed no unease in the human. "When you put your mind to it, you are an immensely capable individual. I mean it. If I did not have faith in your abilities to do this, I would not have offered it to you." She paused her again, and relaxed slightly.

"I was relieved to see you had survived the events of the past few days, Nator. I've lost too many of my people. I'm pleased I haven't lost you." If Nator could make hirself apologize to Natalie, then she decided that she could bury her own anger and admit that to Nator. She was sure that the two would never speak of this again, of course.

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

Reply #6 – April 21, 2019, 03:54:03 PM

[ Lt JG Nator 159 | Corridors | Deck 15 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ] attn: @Brutus 

Nator might have trouble remembering which faces belonged to which people, but s/he could read them easily enough. On the one hand, it was gratifying to surprise the officer in front of hir in turn, but on the other, it was unfortunate that such a statement from the Hermat elicited the response in the first place. Not, s/he had to admit, that s/he had anyone else to blame but hirself.

The technician did have to smile a little though as Stark continued. "When you put your mind to it, you are an immensely capable individual..." Well no shit, boss. I'm always capable. "I was relieved to see you had survived the events of the past few days, Nator. I've lost too many of my people. I'm pleased I haven't lost you."

S/he sobered a little, nodding thoughtfully. "Likewise, Commander. I'm glad you made it," s/he said, unwittingly repeating hir comment from the bridge after their Vectors' reunion a couple of days ago. "If nothing else, Thea needs someone who knows her to be in charge. Replacements... aren't," s/he added laconically.

"Ow. Ow, ow, ow.." came a rapid series of complaints from down the hall. Bancroft was being lifted to his feet by a patient medic, overseen by the nervous Crewman Larson.

"I should get back to that.. The gripe sheet's only going to get longer," s/he said, referring to the general priority order/to-do list used by repair staff the Fleet over. "And I'm sure you'd rather be elsewhere than having a heart to heart with me."

Re: EPIL: S [D06|1430] Reprise

Reply #7 – April 22, 2019, 08:53:10 PM

[Lt. Cmdr. Natalie Stark | Corridors | Deck 15 | Vector 02 | USS Theurgy ]Attn: @TopHat
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Expressions varied by species, Natalie knew well, and not all species emoted in the same fashion as humans did. A smile in one species did not necessarily convey the same message as in other alien races. Though, Natalie also remembered, from a lecture on micro-expressions and triggers that there was a surprising commonality among species. And that the human smile and handshake was an infectious affection that many other alien's adopted after meeting humanity, the curious befuddlement of xeno-anthropologists and sociologists across the galaxy.

The way that Nator looked back at her changed, becoming less flippant, and more serious. It was nice to see that she too could have an affect on hir. Then again, the notions expressed were serious as well. Despite their issues - and it was undeniable that issues existed between Natalie and Nator - there was genuine gratitude that both were in fact still alive, and relatively intact. Though a part of Natalie did still worry about the physical trauma that Nator had endured. Even that was not enough to keep Natalie from thrusting responsibility back onto the Hermat's shoulders.

"Given the events of the past few days, I'm sure one of the tasks ahead of us will be continuing to force familiarization onto some of these new hands. Depending on the numbers we may have something of a heavy work load in that department. But I agree, Thea deserves someone that knows her well. Which is another reason you've got more work. You do know her quite well, Lieutenant." This was about as amicable as the two ever were, as evidenced by the Hermat's next response, which elicited a wry smile from Natalie.

"Perceptive, Lieutenant. Very perceptive. Do make sure Bancroft goes does what the medics tell him. And then let him know from me that he's on janitorial duty once he's been cleared for duty again from medical. There'll be plenty of clean up to do for all these repairs and for the moment I don't want him any where near an EPS Conduit." There was a twinkle in her eye at the notion. The holodecks and cargo bays did not clean themselves after all, and as those locations had been serving as holding pens for displaced officers from the various ships the Theurgy had encountered, there would be plenty of clean up duty ahead. Bancroft was far less likely to blow himself up with a mop.

She hoped.

Standing up a bit straighter, Natalie gave a nod to her newly promoted Assistant Chief of Operations. A notice would be going out, electronically in the next few minutes to all OPS personnel. "As you were Lieutenant Nator. Dismissed.

-FIN-