Ensign Richard Matthews - The Answer to Your Problems isn't Always an Explosive.
Matthew Gough
((Deck 16, Science Lab, USS Khitomer))
R. Matthews: Okay, so, that was a bust.
Richard said this with just his head poking up over the table. Having ducked for cover moments ago when his fourth gel pack had exploded. This time with a little more oomph than the others. Which he would take as a small win. You never knew when knowing how to turn something into a bomb could come in handy after all. But his more explosives enthusiast tendencies put aside. This was not productive towards understanding just how some of the ship's neural gel packs had pulled through while others had not.
During their last assignment. The Khitomer had been bombarded by radiation to test new shielding advances. For the most part, Starfleet’s new toys were pretty cool. Not the death laser, Richard still had reservations about the probe that had been set up to house the Sencha radiation administration unit. Academically, he understood the need for the device. He understood the reasoning behind the higher ups running the tests the way they did. He could also stretch his understanding to give plausible deniability towards the people in charge. They had believed that they had set up enough safety measures to handle whatever may have happened during the testing.
It was arrogant, in his humble and always correct opinion. Not that he had much experience with arrogant people, of course. But one thing about mistakes. People tended to learn from them. Next time someone tested a ship’s defense systems, maybe there would be a kill switch in the weapon being used.
Climbing to his feet. Richard pushed that line of thought aside. If only because after he had made the connection between the probe, and it's making a good weapon, while doing up a science officer’s log. He’d immediately decided he wanted nothing to do with that sort of thinking. He would not put that out into the universe. Bad enough dealing with the Sencha wave weapons from one group of enemies. He didn’t want to think about dealing with it on multiple fronts.
R. Matthews: I have to be going about this the wrong way. Maybe I shouldn’t even be trying to remove. . . Infection? Ugh, how do you even classify this mess?
He poked at a rather large portion of sickly looking green jell and shivered.
R. Matthews: Computer locate and call. . .
Shoot, who could he call to rope into this little job of his? They were on shore leave. He was only in the labs to do a quick update on some experiments that were running. Before hightailing it to the holodeck for game night. His gaming group was running a new campaign, and he didn’t want to miss their session 0. Wacky, zany fabulous adventures would be afoot when he held aloft his sword.
Oh! Speaking of wacky and zany.
R. Matthews: Computer locate and call lieutenant Semara please. See if she’s still on the ship and see if she’s free to quickly consult on a case.
The computer beeped and relayed his message.
Semara: Response
R. Matthews: Hey lieutenant, have a free moment? I’m spinning my wheels here tying to figure out how to approach our neural gel pack issues.
Semara: Response
Richard eyed the mess he had made. Flinching when a drop of slime landed on his shoulder. Glancing up to make sure nothing was scuttling across the ceiling to drop down on him. Wondering at why his mind went there, of all places. He brushed at his shoulder, moving over to the computer banks to initiate a cleaning program.
R. Matthews: I don’t want to take you away from anything. So feel free to tell me to bugger off until leave is over. :: He moved to cover his heart with his hand and said in the most pathetic voice he could muster :: You won’t hurt my feelings, I swear.
Semara: Response
R. Matthews: Too much?
TAGS/TBC
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Ensign Richard Matthews
Science Officer
USS Khitomer (NCC-62400)
A238908RM0