(( Main Shuttle Bay, Deck Seven, USS Gorkon ))
::He’d watched the development of this particular little shuttlecraft for a while now. Long enough to know what he was getting into when he looked it over. Hands braced on the edge of the flight control console, Bear narrowed his eyes as he looked it over, stashed away in the docking bay. There was a simple kind of elegance to it, even if he begrudgingly had to admit it.
::A mash of technologies. MacFarlane hadn’t spared any amount of splicing she could to get it into the peak performance it was in. A confirmed test flight had only cemented the plan in Bear’s head, and as he looked over Frankenstein's Monster with the appreciative eyes of a Starfleet Officer and trained pilot, the gaze that took over was one of expediency, of desperation hewn into his fibers.
::A testbed of the technical, an unregistered warp signature, and the pilot report stated just how poignantly excellent the response times for navigation were. If anything was going to get him off the Gorkon and out into space quickly, that was it.::
Jackson: What do you think, sir? Thing of beauty, isn’t she?
::Bear looked over his shoulder to the form of Crewman Roshier Jackson stood behind, wiping his hands on a rag. A mess of dark hair on his head, not unlike Johns’, and an inquisitive look in his eye that was almost touching on intrusive.::
O. Marshall: She’s well built.
Jackson: Fast too. Lieutenant Kian and the Chief took it for a good joy ride to test it out.
::Feigning a smile, Bear turned his attention back to the shuttle in their midst.::
O. Marshall: MacFarlane didn’t go for subtle with this.
Jackson: That’s not entirely her style. ::The crewman laughed, picking at a speck of dirt under his thumbnail.:: It looks more like a Valkyrie to me.
::Crossing his arms, Bear stood up and poked his tongue into his cheek. Without the list of specifications in front of him, he’d be leaping into the unknown blindly, flying by the seat of his pants. Quite literally if the thing didn’t hold together and started to come apart at the seams.::
Jackson: You thinking of asking MacFarlane for a test run?
O. Marshall: Hmm? ::Bear glanced at the crewman and back to the shuttle.:: No. I’ve no need to die any time soon.
Jackson: She’d be accommodating, I believe, sir. ::He shrugged.:: But suit yourself. Not like you’re going to fly it off and never bring it back.
O. Marshall: No. ::He worried his lip.:: No, of course not.
::Satisfied that he’d said enough, Jackson floated off underneath another of the runabouts above the engineering pits. Bear glanced sideways at the hangar doors, at the impenetrable gates that made escape from the confines of the ship that much harder. Perhaps they’d manage to close the doors before he could get out, rip the wings off the craft, send him hurtling into space on a coffin designed for two.
::His large chest rose and fell with the deep sigh.
::It’d be fast enough. It had to be.::
Lieutenant JG Orson Marshall
Logistics and Communications Officer
Lt. Commander Jo Marshall