LtJG Jocelyn Marshall - Crazy, Crazy, Car-azy Nights
Jo Marshall
(( Operations Office, Deck 13, USS Gorkon ))
:: The road back to the Tyrellian system had been a long one, with more work for the Ops Office than Jo had seen for a long time. Trying to redeploy Science Officers to other places other than their labs had been a momentous task in itself. She had received several well constructed, but incredibly lengthy arguments, against her proposals for a temporary movement structure, stashed away on her personal PADD, for when reaching sleep was particularly difficult.::
:: Aiming for a fitful night sleep didn’t seem to be at the top of her worry list, however, as the young Ops had her arms crossed under her head, face planted on her forearms, snoring lightly.::
:: Blissfully unaware of the Delta shift going on around her, having dropped off just as the deck changed hands from Gamma, the Officers had seen fit to just leave the woman where she was, dreaming away in a dark corner of the office. The dropped bodies of the Human and sometimes the Rodulan former Chief were regular occurrences during trying times onboard, and Jo had worked coordinating the damage control teams, the mess in the Shuttlebay, and reallocation of resources until her tired eyes couldn’t take anymore.::
:: Petty Officer Christopher Johns, known in Ops as “Soup”, had finished a turn on the control team deployed to Deck Eight and made his way to the Ops Office to report in. He didn’t expect to find the junior grade Lieutenant to be in exactly the same place as when he’d left a few hours before. Shaking his head, he replicated two large mugs of coffee and placed one down on the desk beside the woman’s head, then coughed into his fist.::
:: Jo lifted her head quickly, the sound knocking her out of unconsciousness and back into the world of deck plans and nonsense. She blinked for a few moments in the dark, confusion etched on her face, crusty sleep invaded the corners of her eyes and seeing a blurry outline of the PO before rubbing her eyes to see him properly. White teeth. Dark skin. Amused features. Definitely Soup. Why was he in her Quarters? Then, she looked down at the desk, saw the small puddle of dribble, and groaned, slumping into the back of her chair.::
Marshall: Crap. How long was I out?
Johns: ‘Bout three hours, give or take ten minutes.
Marshall: Great. ::she stretched her arms out and spoke through a yawn:: I need to stop sleeping in here.
Johns: Yeah. ::he sipped at his coffee:: You do have quarters, don’t you? Haven’t given them up for some aggravated Scientist to use as a lab?
:: She reached for her drink, cradling the mug to her chest.:: Marshall: Like that’d be good enough for them. I know, I know. Not the point. I’ll go back and get some sleep.
Johns: Good, ‘cause if you keep sleeping in here I’m gonna have them. They’re better than bunking with a Pakled. You’ve got a couch and a shower you don’t have to share. ::he drank some more:: Anyway, we’re two hours from Iana station, you’re on shore leave. That’s a good time to get in some extra sleep, right?
Marshall: ::yawns:: I wish. I’d kill for a day in my pyjamas watching old holo-feeds and eating everything.
Johns: I think one of the Engineers has got a head start on that. Thirty variations and replications of the computer’s standard lasagne recipe. Gotta say, she’s a genius. ::he indicated over his shoulder to the muscle-bound third class PO loitering in the office:: Stew loved it. Needed more cheese for me.
:: Jo stood up, stretching as she did so, feeling several pops in her back. She finished the mug of coffee and placed it back on the replicator pad, then readjusted her hair for the lazy walk back to her quarters.::
Marshall: I’ll give it a try sometime. Now... ::she yawned again:: Time for some sleep. Thanks for the coffee, Soup, and the wake-up call.
:: Soup raised his mug in a semi-salute, happy to have his desk back.:: Johns: Anytime, ma’am. You just let me know when you want to swap quarters, you know where I’ll be.
:: She gave him a slight smile, unsure of whether he was joking or not. About to leave the office, Stew, or rather Petty Officer Robert Peek caught her at the double doors as they swished open. He always looked like he was concentrating on the smallest part of the face of whomever he was talking to at the time. It was a little unsettling, but he was pretty handsome for Human standards, so most let it slide.::
Peek: You’ve got an urgent message from Earth, ma’am. The customs office picked up something leaving the planet, they wouldn’t tell me what. I’ve had it sent to your Quarters.
:: Narrowing her eyes, she wondered what it could be. Why would planetary customs be picking up anything? What could be leaving of hers? She hadn’t been there since their last shore leave and she didn’t send anything off planet. However, trying to fathom that through a tired brain was hard. She rubbed her forehead.::
Marshall: Did they give any indication what it could be? Like dimensions, make-up, composition?
:: Stew shook his head and shrugged his broad shoulders.:: Peek: No, ma’am, just said it was big. Like, real big. I think the Transporter Chief had trouble getting it in your quarters.
:: Jo shifted her weight to one foot and looked at the PO for a long moment, trying to work out not only what the item could be but also why the PO thought it was a good idea to have it transported to her quarters instead of the Cargo Bay, before looking over her shoulder at Soup now seated in the warm chair she’d left behind leafing through the PADD in front of him.::
Marshall: Chris, why do they call you Soup and him Stew, again?
Johns: We went through the Academy together, nickname from our Operations Professor. ::he looked up and shrugged:: Stew is thicker than Soup. Kinda fits.
(( Officers Quarters, Deck 13, USS Gorkon ))
:: Jo strolled lazily to her quarters, looking forward to getting in a few hours of sleep before they arrived at Iana Station. Limbs ached, eyes were squinted, her shoulder had a nice little gripe to it having being dislodged earlier in the day and reseated in Sickbay. Thankful that her quarters were on the same floor as her office, it was a short walk, and she was at her front door before she knew it.::
:: The door swished open, revealing the dark quarters behind, the lights coming up to her optimal levels upon sensing her presence. Her eyes adjusted momentarily, seeing the light hit everything in the room...::
:: ...including the black sapphire body of the 1962 Thunderbird where her sofa used to be.::
:: Her face dropped into the palm of her hand. She was too tired to deal with this. After sleep she would. After sleep, the car wouldn’t be there and she’d realise it was just a figment of her imagination. Barely able to get past the car’s front end, she shimmied by, unzipping the rest of the jacket and pulling it off gingerly, careful to avoid the already sore shoulder. She threw her jacket onto the hood and shook her head, entered her bedroom, and fell head first onto the bed.::
TBC
Lieutenant (JG) Jocelyn Marshall
Operations Officer
USS Gorkon
G239304JM0