(PNPC) LtJG Orson Marshall - Troublemaker

[Jo Marshall]

(( Wardroom, Deck Three, USS Gorkon))

Eerie: We did have interesting holodeck training program once, where I broke three bones of Captain Nugra.

Sim: How in good faith did you manage that sir?

O. Marshall: By hitting him, I would assume. 

::Eerie visibly flinched a little, possibly at the jolt of memory. Accosting a superior Officer wasn't something they did, not that Orson couldn't rhyme off a list of those he would have happily gone toe to toe with over the years. There were better ways to settle a difference; with diplomacy, talking, a good counselling session... ::

Eerie: We were doing combat unarmed against Gorns and Brikars and we got separated in the dark scenario . Both of us were a bit excited and we got into a major fight before we realized whom was whom. ::Pausing:: That's right...

Sim: Really? I suppose you must have had the safety settings turned off then?

Eerie: Response?

::Orson stayed silent but a tiny smirk kinked at the corner of his mouth. That didn't sound like the Brikar that had hauled his backside up a mountainside at five in the morning. Why would they be training against simulated Gorn and Brikar? For kicks? He clasped his hands behind his back and rocked a little on his feet.::

Sim: What an interesting story. I'd certainly like to meet the Captain now. Shall we..?

:: The Doctor gestured with his cane toward the gathered senior Officers on the other end of the Wardroom. Something in Orson's stomach dropped like a lead weight. Gorn he could deal with, even the Trill First Officer looked like a pleasant enough person, but the prospect of being in close quarters with the Admiral made his meal turn over. No, this wasn't the right time for him, not until he'd figured this all out.::

O. Marshall: Actually, I've got something to do before we break orbit. Please, have a good evening. ::he patted the Brikar's arm familiarly:: Sir, I'll report in tomorrow. ::then nodded to the Doctor:: Likewise, Doctor; I'll look forward to the medical. 

:: He didn't wait for a response before he was beating a hasty track out of the Wardroom, trying his best to make it look nonchalant, though as he slipped through the door he was quite sure he felt his sister's eyes following him. Once outside, he slid the PADD from his pocket and made a few dozen fingertip jabs onto the screen.

:: Secure connection established, he tapped out a scrawl of a message he was sure would only make sense to the other end.::

O. Marshall: =/\= Another player has entered the game. Plans need to change. /\=

:: With a subtle distraction already occurring, he ducked into the turbolift and rode it down to the Personal Quarters deck, scratching the growing stubble on his cheek. Perhaps he didn't have as much time as he thought he did. It would need to be quick to be effective, something his mind churned even as his boots sank into the carpet, carrying him forward to the door he sought. He braced his shoulders and looked around in the corridor; empty, quiet, perfect. 

:: The PADD slid into place on the wall beside the control and within a moment the security barrier disappeared, and the door opened, allowing the blond man to step into the dark rooms without issue. Starlight cascaded through the windows, dispersing onto the Starfleet standard arrangement of furniture and heavily personalised items scattered on surfaces. A tiny beep elicited from the PADD as a reminder of the time limit he had before the security blackout would end. He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and got to work.

:: A listening device here, an imaging processor there, all set in place for higher beings than him to comb through. He picked up a statue from one of the surfaces and felt the weight of it in his hand. Religion had never made sense to him. It would make a handy weapon if the occasion arose, so he made a note of it. He placed it down in the exact place it had been before and with a conspiratorial nod to the imaging processor and the eyes behind it, he slipped out of the Quarters. Taking a furtive look around the corridor before closing the door behind him, he made his way to the turbolift and stepped inside, just in time to hear the small beep of the timer signify completion. 

:: A long finger scratched at his cheek once more, then he frowned. 

:: Had that been a picture of Jadzia Dax?::

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(PNPC) Lieutenant JG Orson Marshall

Logistics and Communications Specialist

451st Ranger Platoon

USS Gorkon

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