Lt.Cmdr Orson "Bear" Marshall - Bearly Recognisable
Jo Marshall
((Intelligence Office, Deck 15, USS Gorkon))
Bear Marshall was pissed off.
As a decorated veteran of the prestigious Starfleet Rangers, he had stared into the face of the impossible — and occasionally the slightly improbable — with little more than a jut of his well-cut jaw for a weapon. He had watched worlds become colonised, moulded by the invading species time and again, and yet, for the life of him, he had never stood in front of his office window and watched the Borg engulf an entire planet in a matter of seconds.
Did it rain nanites suddenly? Had the Borg buried themselves under the surface of New Cyndriel, only to awaken at an opportune moment to seed and proliferate with the efficacy of a tribble in heat?
With a scowl like a thousand-yard stare, Bear stood in a power stance, arms folded over his broad chest, as the ship had turned on its axis and bolted straight back for the dust cloud. What else could they do but retreat? They didn't have the upper hand. Hell, they barely had a hand to play at all. They weren't on the same poker table.
Without his explicit instruction, his thumb turned his ring around on his finger. The cold metal of a welded ringbolt was a poor substitute for the warmth of Lena's hand. Subtle thoughts like that made his stomach clench. At least she wasn't there. Small mercies.
Exhaling a breath of frustration through his nose, Bear turned on his heavy heel and stalked out of his office.
((Deck 8, USS Gorkon))
…and strode towards the centre of security and tactical administration a few decks above. As expected, the Chief—Greg Aegam—was already in full swing of briefing his staff in the need to do whatever it was they could with the little information they had, flanked on both sides by an Ensign who looked pointy-eared and mildly concerned, and a smiling junior grade Lieutenant, who looked mildly concerning.
About to head inside and work up a few bloodstreams into undulating blood pressure spikes, Bear caught sight of a familiar robust Andorian figure, her blue skin striking against the beige walls of the corridor and, like most Andorians, looking as serious as a heart attack.
O. Marshall: There's a face only a Zhen could love.
Kosathka: Response
The bearded man grinned in response, offering out his forearm to his Andorian friend. It'd been a long time since they'd been in close enough quarters to have a conversation without communicators, and longer still, since they were both rolling through the galaxy doing the same job.
O. Marshall: Reynolds gave you an office?
Kosathka: Response
O. Marshall: I was about to give Aegam some pointers, ::he gestured over his shoulder with a flick of his blond head,:: but he looks like he's in the throes of an inspirational speech and I don't want to derail it. Or be near it. What about you? They got you wandering the halls already?
Kosathka: Response
–
Lt.Cmdr Orson "Bear" Marshall
Intelligence Officer
USS Gorkon
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