Ensign Juliet Banks: It’s… Cozy?
Juliet Banks
((Crew Mess, Deck 4, USS Khitomer))
Juliet slid her dish back into the replicator return tray, the last smears of raspberry coulis a silent testament to her sugar-induced weakness. She was dedicated to her mission of exploring the Khitomer in person, at least one deck a day, getting to know its layout and the inevitable compromises made in refits and repairs that never quite matched the official schematics. At least, if the Remillard had been anything to judge by. It was just fortuitous that her exploration of Deck Four had yielded unto her the Crew Mess right when she was feeling snacky, that’s all, it’s not like she’d sought it out.
She looked mournfully into her mug, still half-full; she’d never get her tour of Deck Four finished if she didn’t hurry it up, but… tea! Not finished! Still, wandering through unfamiliar spaces with a cup of liquid was a guarantee she’d run into a senior officer who’d rightfully dress her down for it. Making a face, she swigged a big mouthful of her remaining tea, and consigned the remainder to the replicator return. Time for more discovering, like the intrepid Starfleet officer she was!
She checked the deck plans and schematics on her PADD, and set off down the corridor. Up ahead, the deck plan suggested, was the Operations Office – now that was exciting. She might be in Command red right now, but she still felt like an Operations officer at heart. She suspected she always would.
She hurried her steps past Transporter Room One – she could come back to that later, she wanted to see Ops! She tapped the door control under the small sign reading Operations and, as the door swooshed open in front of her, nearly walked straight into the back of a man in Ops gold.
((Operations Office Closet, Deck 4, USS Khitomer))
Reht: Alright, first order of business is to find someone more qualified to tidy this up.
Did he mean her? She’d done her fair share of tidying, helping to set rooms to rights in the wake of gravity’s little holiday. No, wait, she wasn’t a cadet any more; no longer the first to be assigned scutwork, hooray!
Banks: We could just transport it all into space and start again?
The man startled, clearly not having heard her arrive, and spun to face her. The mystery officer was a handsome Trill man, dark-haired and with a challenging tilt to his eyebrows.
Reht: You are wearing red. Command. Are you here to tell me that I’ve taken a wrong turn and am not standing in the Operations Office? Please, by the spots and stars, tell me you are here to tell me this ::gestures to the small room around him:: is a farcical mistake.
She could see his point. It was cramped, disused, and had the general air of having been forgotten about. There were drifts of dust here and there, too – not encouraging, since that suggested it wasn’t even being included in the regular transporter sweeps for contaminants.
Banks: Um.
She looked down at the schematics on her PADD, then back up to the other officer.
Banks: Bad news on all counts, I’m afraid. I’m Ops as well – I’m the HCO all-rounder – and despite appearances to the contrary, according to the deck plans this is not actually a large cupboard. Welcome to the Operations Office.
She flourished a hand, as though making an overly-florid presentation.
Reht: ::crestfallen:: Well that's disappointing. ::looking around:: I’m not sure this space is meant for two…
He spun in a slow circle dramatically while looking closer at his surroundings.
Reht: Oh galaxies no, is that… yes, yes it is. ::pointing:: I believe there’s a second desk underneath that horrid pile of space junk.
Banks: The horrid pile of space junk is, I think, the former contents of the office? What with the gravity failures we had, this is not the first room I’ve seen that looks like it’s been turned upside-down and shaken vigorously.
Reht: Response
She squinted at the pile of junk, and pointed at a lump.
Banks: Look, I think that’s the corpse of a chair, albeit in three or four pieces. There’s probably another one in there, if this is a two-person office. If it helps, I have helm duties as well, so I won’t be underfoot all the time.
She stepped closer to the pile and poked at it gingerly, which was enough to start a small avalanche of broken bits and pieces around her; she froze like a startled Arax-cat as debris cascaded around her, and coughed slightly as the pile settled in a fresh cloud of dust. She raised her eyes to make eye contact with the Trill.
Banks: ::dryly:: Well, this is fun.
Reht: Response
Juliet sniffed back a dust-induced sneeze. This was getting ridiculous.
Banks: Computer, run standard dust and contaminant removal transporter program for the Operations Office, and add to the regular cleaning schedule.
Computer: Unable to run program. There is no identified Operations Office on this ship.
Banks: ::muttering:: How about the Operations Cupboard? ::at a normal volume:: Computer, run standard dust and contaminant removal transporter program for compartment… ::a pause to check the deck plan:: four-point-two-seven.
A brief hum filled the air as a faint shimmer was visible like a wave passing through the room, taking with it the drifts of dust and the faint musty smell in the air.
Banks: Good. Computer, add identifier ‘Operations Office’ to compartment four-point-two-seven and flag the change for Commander Hobart’s approval.
She looked back at the other officer, and only then did she notice the pips on his collar. Whoops. She quickly ran back over her behaviour – painfully informal, but then he’d greeted her informally so… no harm done? She smiled at him hopefully.
Banks: Anyway! Sorry, sir, no disrespect intended. I’m Ensign Juliet Banks – helm, comms and ops. I’m new on the Khitomer… though, am I correct in thinking you are too?
Reht: Response
TAG/TBC
Ensign Juliet Banks
HCO Officer
USS Khitomer
K240206JB1