Ensign Keneth Nakada - Moping In A Garden, Wait We're Looking For What?!
Keneth Nakada
(( OOC: As always, all thoughts are IC. I’m playing with Keneth’s melancholy on his LOA’s a bit. Shorter sim, just dipping my toes in.))
(( Musashi Lounge, Mission Pod Level B, USS Ronin ))
The moss was a nice touch, Keneth thought, running his fingers gently over the growth. It grew like a weed, crawling and climbing the bleached gray walls. A thrum passed through his fingers every three seconds, the rhythm of the plasma pulse towards the nacelles. Where the green ended, light pink from a seemingly out of place cherry blossom sprouted. His mother would love them, a woman who loved her sharp contrasts. A croton next to a coleus was her all time favorite arrangement.
He had never seen this part of the ship, despite the months he’d served aboard the Ronin, in what seemed like a lifetime ago. This was his third return to Starfleet, and it felt more alien each time. He saw officers grow pips on their collar, and the ship grow scars on its outside – sometimes he felt he stood still as the world rushed by. Why was he even here? What did he have to prove, returning to one of the hardest jobs in the galaxy? Perhaps he should throw in the towel and tend to his own garden. He traced a stray leaf from an evergreen shrub. Or maybe the bush. Maybe he shouldn’t tend to a garden.
Six years in and he had to admit some of the primal love he had for exploration had fallen to the wayside. Now that his latest personal crisis had ended, it had been knee jerk to return to Starfleet, but maybe he’d been rash. Did he really want this? His sister had kept her career going through their dad’s death and all that followed. Her acceptance to Vulcan’s medical fellowship was nothing short of incredible. But he had left Starfleet again and again and again, taking the easy way out. Maybe that meant something.
A commbadge chirp got him shoving off the bench and to his feet. He looked back at the window, spying the glint of a star lifetimes away. Maybe third times were the charm.
(( Main Engineering, USS Ronin ))
In contrast to the tranquility of the lounge, Main Engineering was a mass of frenzied activity. What looked suspiciously like shattered remnants of a ceramic mug and dried coffee stains on the carpet welcomed him to the room. He had to admit seeing the warp core did give him a sense of grounding on the ship, his mind cataloging the bits and bolts. A crewman dashed past him, shouting a half lost apology.
Keneth deftly maneuvered around a couple of other officers to get to Commander Tucker. He knew something was up, seeing as he had been rushed on board and unable to meet the captain upon embarking. Some sort of briefing, highly sensitive, etc. etc. etc. He was a little miffed at not having been assigned quarters. His stuff was just lying around in a transporter room.
Marty Tucker had grown a much more substantial beard since Keneth had seen him. The commander was a tall lean man, and all of his hair had the same reddish tinge to it. As customary on duty, his sleeves were rolled up and just scuffed enough to let everyone know he was an engineer. Several others. including a shorter woman and a man stood with their backs to Keneth, and he couldn’t make out much about them. He could catch fragments of their conversation as he got closer.
Wren: ::completely at a loss:: How do we keep the ship from tearing in half?
This sounded promising and relevant, so naturally he moved closer, his interest piqued.
Cabrillo/Tucker/Morgan/Miller: response
Keneth sped up to keep pace behind them.
Wren: ::with all the delicacy of a sledgehammer:: hey, just so you know I have a robotic bug in my hair. I made him, his name's Remy, please don't shoot him.
Remy: ::briefly pokes his head out, before burrowing back in::
Keneth recoiled a bit, and he wasn’t the only one. Crawly things brought memory of the spiders, and he’d had quit enough of robotic arachnids for a lifetime. He moved a bit away from the woman and awkwardly wedged forward into the group, shimmying past a console.
Cabrillo/Tucker/Morgan/Miller: response
Nakada: :: clearing throat in an unbelievably awkward manner :: Sorry to interrupt, Ensign Nakada :: looking at Tucker :: reporting for duty.
Keneth wondered if he should salute in the five years that passed during the next three seconds. But it would be weird right?! Nobody saluted onboard a ship like that. His hand twitched. Perhaps he should have waited to introduce himself.
oO Hi, I’m Ensign Nakada, it really is nice to meet you – why yes, I was in line for the restroom the other day! – by the way did you know you are holding a live 100% organic antimatter torpedo in your bare hands? Oo
Tucker: Response
Cabrillo/Morgan/Miller: Response
Nakada: :: nodding :: Thank you commander. A pleasure to meet you all. A … creature, you say?
Tucker/Cabrillo/Morgan/Miller: Response
Nakada: :: blankly :: … a large creature.
Perhaps they were playing a prank on him? A gigantic creature in space? Like a whale?
Nakada: When you say creature you mean –
Tucker/Cabrillo/Morgan/Miller: Response
TAG/TBC
Ensign Keneth Nakada
Engineering Officer
USS Ronin
J239706KN0