(( USS Arrow, Deck 1, Bridge ))
(( Some number of days after reaching Starbase 821, the graveyard shift ))
The late watch on the bridge was mind-numbingly dull under normal circumstances, but with Arrow berthed and much of the crew on leave it was so, so worse. It was painfully quiet with the dull thrum of the engines on the opposite end of the ship leaving the bridge silent but for the work of an engineer doing who-knows-what under one of the consoles at the aft of the bridge. The only other soul on the bridge was one Lieutenant Commander Quentin Collins, who Maria still wasn’t too sure about. They hadn’t spoken much since last leave, which was good and bad, but she couldn’t help wonder - what was going on in that head?
She sighed and slumped into her seat, her butt sliding all the way to the very front edge. She swiveled herself in the chair idly with nothing to do but watch a panel for readings or alerts that, if the computer didn’t hurk (which held some ridiculous negative exponent of probability), would never come. She checked the time for the upteenth time, with the console giving a rhythmic bippity-bleep in response to her inputs. Still something like an hour until the shift was done…
Maria pushed the swivel on the chair around again, surveying the same scene she had thirty seconds ago, still slouched horribly. She shuffled her feet along the floor as she did, the heavy heel of the standard issue boot found a spot on the floor that gave a good thunk. Maria adjusted her foot, having found something new to amuse herself with. She tweaked the positioning and angle of attack until she’d turned it into a rather satisfyingly bassy tone.
She cautiously eyed Collins, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care about her level of distraction. They were in port after all. She eyed the console again, which predictably showed still nothing. She checked the time again, with a bippity-bleep. She quietly drummed the plasticy side of her chair with her fingers, tapping out some improvised rhythm with combinations of click, clack, and smack.
Her heel found the hollow spot on the floor again. Thunk. She decided to test a full rhythm.
Thunk-thunk, smack - bippity-bleep!
Her sour expression lightened a shade into something devious, realizing she had invented a way to keep herself busy at least for a moment. Maybe it was the boredom overwhelming her judgment, or the fact that she just didn’t care, but she launched into a full beat regardless of what the XO might think.
As soon as she had a sort of back-home mid-tempo urban R&B beat locked in, she improvised a rap on the spot, grooving in her seat as she went with style and attitude.
Keep-in’ watch on the bridge of the Arrow,
I’ve got Starfleet duty seepin’ into my marrow.
Runnin’ diagnostics an’ checkin’ em twice,
When we fly into battle we ain’t throwing no dice.
Yeah, our ship and crew ain’t the cream of the crop,
But when the Borg come knockin’ we make the beat drop.
We’re the crew of the Arrow and we look hella fly,
And we comin’ in hotter than a Tal Shiar spy.
:: Drum Break ::
We got Quentin Collins sitting center seat,
Shakin’ his head to the groove a’ ma beat.
We got pluck an’ courage, don’t shy from a brawl -
We can take any challenge, be it big or small.
We’ll be groovin’ along in our little ship,
Warpin’ through the stars at a steady clip -
Leavin’ home behind, but not sheddin’ a tear,
Cuz we huntin’ the secrets of the final frontier.
:: Drum Break ::
Gather ‘round, go an’ shout it on the street,
This is the story of a ship a’ Star-fleet:
Gallantly serving in the Alpha Isles,
We protect and serve in the sickest a’ styles.
Sheliak, Iconians, and a pirate, too -
We rose to the challenges, us scrappy few.
We keepin’ our morals on the straight and narrow:
These are the voyages of the USS Arrow!
She finished with an irrepressible, pleased grin before she realized how nuts she must appear judging from the look she was getting from Collins. Maybe she had gotten a little too into it. She hadn’t given her audience much thought, and was quite frankly surprised she wasn’t stopped. Shayne almost certainly would have disapproved. She cocked her head with a pretty smile, as if to say, ‘what?’
Alvarez: :: She smirked. :: That’s our theme song now as far as I’m concerned.