Lt. JG Natasha Cole - Half Suspicious
Natasha Schell
Natasha’s jaw tightened. Annoyance burned off almost instantly, leaving something colder behind. Bureaucracy she could work around. Deliberate delay was a different animal.
Cole: That explains the stall. We weren’t being processed. We were being managed.
Jaran: Are you sure? How do you know?
Storm: I felt …
Alex sighed out loud.
Storm: I felt him.
Alex turned to face her and Jaran before she continued.
The protective part of her wanted to curse orbital control, Kona, and timing itself. The investigator in her filed the feeling away and reached for the detail instead.
Storm: I didn’t know it was him. It was just … a familiar presence trying not to be noticed. It had to be Kona.
Cole: Then you didn’t miss him. You caught a piece of him without knowing what you were looking at. That still counts.
Jaran: She's right. You can't beat yourself up over catching a familiar scent and not realising what you were smelling until later.
Storm: Response
Cole: Then our first stop stays the same. Spaceport, records, and anyone who thought holding us in orbit was ordinary.
Natasha’s mind was already moving ahead of the shuttle: orbital delay, outbound ships, a familiar presence trying not to be noticed, and a man who had apparently decided getting gone mattered more than attending his own father’s funeral.
Jaran: If that happened without him having someone inside who owed him a favour, I'll be shocked.
Storm: Response
She adjusted their approach vector by a fraction, eyes fixed on the controls even as her mind moved three steps ahead.
Cole: Funny thing about clever exits, they usually depend on at least one person assuming no one will look too closely. I’m in the mood to disappoint somebody.
Jaran: Oh, I plan on doing nanosurgery on those records.
Storm: Response
The spaceport was in view now. Natasha had been following their flight plan as filed to perfection, and a voice came in through the comms.
Station Alpha Control: =/\= Station Control. Shuttle Griffin, you are cleared for Berth Delta-7. =/\=
Jaran: =/\= Copy, Station Control. Proceeding to berth. =/\=
Jaran: ::to the others:: Put on your serious faces. It's time.
Cole: I was under the impression this was my serious face.
Storm: Response
(( Shuttle Griffin, Berth Delta-7, Spaceport Alpha, Betazed ))
The shuttle touched down lightly.
Betazed Greeting Message: =/\= Welcome, travelers, rest your mind.
Leave your guarded thoughts behind.
On Betazed, where hearts are clear,
Every soul is seen and near.
Feel the calm, no need to hide.
Truth and peace walk side by side.
Step ashore, let silence speak.
You are known the moment you seek. =/\=
Jira glanced at Storm with a puzzled expression on their face. While Nat tried to not let the jingle get stuck in her head.
Jaran: Does that happen every time?
Storm: Response
Cole: That somehow made me feel both greeted and monitored.
Jira opened the shuttle's door.
Jaran: Fair enough! We have work to do. I'm leaving my bag here. Prophets grant we'll find what we need and be on our way again quickly.
Natasha rose, smoothing the front of her jacket once before stepping toward the hatch.
Cole: Leave it. First stop’s still records, then whoever signed off on that delay.
Storm/Jaran: Response
Natasha’s gaze swept the berth in one quick pass: arrivals staff, baggage crews, station security, and one woman in a slate-gray station jacket holding a data-slate like it might protect her from difficult questions.
Cole: I want the first person who can explain why we circled while outbound traffic cleared. After that, I want the person who told them to make it happen.
Storm/Jaran: Response
Cole: Let me talk first. People tell you interesting things when they think you’re only half suspicious.
Natasha’s eyes settled on the woman by the berth marker, dark hair pinned neatly back, smile already halfway into place. Her badge read **Senior Traffic Coordination Clerk – Lysa Pell**.
Cole: Ms. Pell, right? Lieutenant Natasha Cole. I’m sure this is all perfectly ordinary, but there’s one little thing about our approach delay that keeps bothering me, and I was hoping you could save me from overthinking it.
Pell adjusted her grip on the data-slate, her smile holding a fraction too long before she answered.
Pell: I assure you, Lieutenant, your shuttle was never in any danger. We were instructed to delay inbound clearance for just a few minutes while a priority departure window was maintained. It was administrative, not personal.
Storm/Jaran: Response
Tags/TBC
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Lt. JG Natasha Cole
Security Officer
USS Artemis-A
A240205NC4