Damian Porter

"Error Analysis"

 

A log by Ensign Damian Porter with Samantha Kent reprising her role as CPO Wills

 

Finally Crewman Fisher had arrived on the Control Tower. Porter was fuming when he entered the turbolift. It was time to deal with Wills now, they couldn't afford the cargo people to be sloppy. And he certainly did not feel like fixing their mistakes. Fortunately, neither the Captain nor the Commander had noticed or heard of anything. The last thing he needed was more stress and more work.

 

It had taken nearly half an hour to realize the extent of the error. First the call had come in from the Mercury that some of the Aegis crew had been scooped up by the cargo transporter and deposited in one of their storage bays. Wills had attributed it to a mistake by the transporter chief and shrugged it off -- not her department, not her problem, and she had more than enough other things to worry about to deal with chastising that wet-behind-the-ears kid. There had not immediately been any indication that her own operations were going anything but smoothly -- until Mercury's OPS had called again (slightly more irate-sounding) to inform her that a load of sensitive engineering cargo had been dropped off in crew quarters. That *was* her department, and the two related errors made her suspicious, so she traced the transporter coordinate instructions dispatched at the time and sure enough...three large glaring errors that had turned the system immediately inside out. And that was why, currently, the entire Aegis cargo crew all looked as if they were waiting for the apocalypse; the standard chaos had a very nervous edge to it. They all knew the boss was pissed.

 

When Porter stepped off the turbolift he wasted no time, he simply roared: "Wills!" He hoped for her sakes that she had a very good explanation for what had happened. Maybe that oaf Little had something to do with it, that wouldn't be surprising at all.

 

A couple of heads in the cargo bay snapped around at the roar and a murmur ran through the entire bay as Aegis's OPS controller made a dramatic entrance; a murmur half of concern, half of amusement, and Wills knew they were wondering whether she was about to be taken down a peg. Setting her jaw against an expression of humiliation she spun towards the door, meeting Porter's eyes as he entered and scowling. "Ensign Porter," she replied with deliberate calmness.

 

"You know why I'm here, so let's not waste time. I want an explanation. And if it was that Little," the decidedly scarlet head of the Petty Officer perked up between some crates, the poor man was wide-eyed with fear, "I'll report you for letting him do anything but piling boxes and I'll throw him out the next airlock," at this the head quickly disappeared. Porter felt better when he got to blow off some steam, all day he had been on the receiving end. It was definitely time to move up the food chain. But he could worry about that another time, now he was only concerned with clearing up some mess and making sure it would stay clean.

 

Wills cast her eyes sideways as Jack Little poked his head out and her scowl deepened. "Coordinate transfer error," she said crisply, staring somewhere past Porter's shoulder as if reciting something particularly distasteful. "Two of my boys got their procedures a little--"a lot"--mixed up."

 

Porter made a gesture that was supposed to prompt her to continue her explanation.

 

Wills sighed and turned away from him towards the console next to her; if she had to have this conversation she could at least get something accomplished while she did it. "Turned a few coordinates around, dropped a boatload of engineering equipment in crew quarters," she continued sharply, stabbing down at the controls to sign off on a few more of the transports. She was checking them all personally now to avoid another mix-up, something which didn't help her workload or her mood. She paused, then added almost as an afterthought. "Dropped the crew in the cargo bay too, but hell, they've got legs." Spinning back on Porter she fixed him again with a sharp look. "And you can believe me, a few heads rolled this morning and more will when I've got the time on my hands."

 

Porter emanated an air of testiness. He tried to control his temper, as a result his voice was very quiet and had a hissing quality to it when he said: "Chief Petty Officer Wills, I know what happened, because I fixed it. Not only did the personnel end up in the cargo holds of the Mercury, but the equipment these people got mixed up with landed in some crew quarters on the Portland. You see the problem here? Let alone the fact that the crates contained highly sensitive engineering cargo, they both ended up on the wrong ships. How are we ever going to find anything once we reach our new destination?" He knew that she was fully aware of the problem but he wanted to let everybody in cargo know that he wasn't going to tolerate sloppiness. "And what's more, why was I left to deal with the error myself? I have more important things to do than cleaning up your mess. Am I understood?"

 

Wills was really not in the mood for this. She knew he was pissed off and he had a right to be, but she was busy, tired, stressed, and now being publicly humiliated in front of her team. "In case you hadn't noticed, sir, we've had quite a bit on our plates; there was a delay in response but it would have been dealt with."

 

Porter did not want to hear excuses. So as a reply he merely said: "You had better make sure next time things will be dealt with promptly. Preferably before they are brought to my attention." With that he turned around and got back on the turbolift. He was a busy man after all, and had no time spending the rest of his shift yelling at Wills, therapeutic as it may have felt.

 

Wills muttered a Tellarite oath under her breath as she watched Porter disappear. This move was more trouble than it was worth, all told, and she was going to need quite a large bottle of something potent and perhaps a long nap when it was all over. She turned on several of the crewmembers who had been watching the exchange. "You heard the man. Move! Sooner you do it, the sooner it gets finally done!"

"Welcome Distractions"

 

A Log by Lieutenant Commander James Riley and Ensign Damian Porter

 

The defence platforms had gathered themselves relatively neatly. James weaved the Typhoon fighter slowly through the mass. Careful flying was a necessity at the moment; the platforms were twice the length and three times the weight of his comparatively diminutive starfighter. It had been nearly seven hours since he had thought of the idea of using the Starfleet tugs to tow the defence grid back to the station. He hadn't really expected the tug crews to get the job completed in the six hours he had bet on, but they were doing an admirable job and deserved free drinks in Drankum's anyway. As it was, two-thirds of the platforms had been placed in close orbit around the station and there had been no accidents, yet.

 

It had been a busy day on the Control Tower and in the Cargo Bays for Porter. He would file a request for vacation once this move was over, that much was certain. The sensor readings of the flight control console, which Porter was monitoring closely, looked strange. All of the docking stations were empty now except for the two for the Portland and the Mercury. Instead the tugs were busy around the station towing the defence grid platforms. The constant beeping of the proximity alert that the tugs kept triggering was starting to cause a headache. At least there was also Commander Riley's fighter out there to monitor what was going on. "Aegis Flight OPS to Tiger One, what is the situation out there?"

 

James made a sweeping turn around shield platform and found a good vantage point to watch two tugs start their assault on this herd. He was a little surprised to hear Porter's voice over the comm system but smiled anyway. Depressing the push-to-talk button on the side of his throttle, he responded to the request. "Tiger One back. The tug operators are real professionals. It looks like they should be done rounding up this herd in another two to three hours. How are things back at the homestead. Grandma still beating off the Indians?" Riley wondered if the joke would be taken as intended or if it would be assumed he was referring to the Captain's onerous duty of escorting the Admiral on his efficiency study. Either way he thought it was funny.

 

Porter glanced at Captain Quark, who had somehow managed to lose the Admiral (or he had lost her) for a while, and was now gracing the CT with her presence and foul mood. He couldn't help it, he had to grin at Riley's joke and the possibilities of interpretation. Biting back comments about grandmas, scalps, or a lack thereof, Porter did his best to sound professional when he replied: "The situation here is," he paused for a moment, " unchanged. I'm glad to hear the tug operators know what they're doing. I would hate having to be the one to tell the Captain or Engineering that they scratched the paint, or worse. Things are tense enough as it is." Porter made a note that the tugs were scheduled to be done with the defence grid within 3 hours. He supposed then Engineering or Commander Brown would have more than enough of a chance to see how efficient and professional these tug people really were. But Porter would not get a chance to witness all that, as he would then leave flight OPS and the Control Tower to Crewman Fisher. He himself would check up on CPO Wills and her people to investigate a little incident and coordinate the cargo and personnel transfer.

 

He shook his head at the 'unchanged' comment. As fun as it was to spend all this time boring holes through the interstellar medium, he longed for a bit of the starbase lifestyle he had become accustomed to at his last few postings. Starbase security personnel had the unique opportunity to get intimately familiar, not only with their station, but with the predominant species of the local space surrounding it. It was an experience that James found interesting and deeply gratifying. He depressed the comm button again, "I am not sure that is good news or bad."

 

"Well, things have not gotten worse, so that's always something, especially around here. Anyway, when do you plan on returning to the station? Are you planning on monitoring the whole process?" Porter knew exactly what Riley meant. Life aboard the station these days wasn't easy. Everybody was overworked and they had faced a few emergency situations. Furthermore, there wasn't much left to do on Aegis except for work, eat and sleep; the midway was dead, the holodecks had been taken offline, equipment of the gyms had been stowed away. Many people were tense and moody and everybody was looking forward to finally arriving at their destination, no matter what might await them there, as long as they'd be able to establish some sort of routine and make themselves at home; whatever that may mean to them then.

 

James laughed at the though of staying out here for another three hours. He wasn't real sure his rear end could stand all of this extended flight time; the cockpit seats simply weren't built for comfort. "I just wanted to see the progress first hand. I'll be heading back in soon. I am really not sure I could stand another few hours in this starfighter, as much as I like flying."

 

"Understood Tiger One, see you in a bit then. Aegis Flight OPS out." Oh to be a fighter pilot and to have an excuse to get away every now and then. Porter sighed when he cut the comm to Riley and went through his mental to do list. next on it was a visit to the cargo bays. Porter hit his comm badge: "Crewman Fisher, this is Porter, please report to the CT immediately."

"Organizing the Chaos"

 

A log by Ensign Damian Porter with Samantha Kent guest starring as Chief Petty Officer Wills

 

 

 

Porter was on his way back to the cargo bays. He had to talk to CPO Wills again about the move. It was getting serious now, a lot of stuff had to be taken off the station and into the cargo bays of the Portland and the Mercury. So when he saw Wills standing around shouting orders he walked straight over to her.

 

Wills had seen Ensign Porter come in through the door but she ignored him until he reached her, focusing instead on the boxes of delicate scientific equipment whose shipment to the Mercury she was overseeing. Only when the last traces of the shimmering transporter lights had dimmed, and the shipment's departure had been properly recorded in the computer, did she turn to address the officer next to her. "Just can't keep away from me, can you, Ensign?" she asked, grinning tightly at him and raising an eyebrow. "What is it this time?"

 

Porter grinned: "Ah Chief Petty Officer, I came to make your day, more or less." In fact he had come to give her updates of what still needed to be taken off the station and to get an update on the progress. It would be easy to get all the personnel of the station, but the logistics of this move had taken on enormous dimensions. 

 

"You'll have to get in line," Wills returned, shaking her head slightly and turning away from him, moving towards an approaching midshipman who was proffering a PADD to her as if trying to rid herself of something painful. "I've been having my day made pretty constantly for a week, so you'd better have something awful good." She ticked off her signature on the PADD's transfer request and turned to look at Porter again, her eyebrows raised expectantly, her right leg drumming gently against the floor with impatience.

 

He took his time, knowing it would probably drive her nuts. After a good 30 seconds of just looking at her he finally started to speak: "I got reports from the department heads about what has to be taken off the station, dangerous material and the like, you know. Of course, they all claimed that their stuff is top priority, but I have designed a more feasible system of assigning priority." He took the PADD he was holding to a console and downloaded the data onto it. Then with a few swift movements of his finger he drew up a holographic schematics of the cargo bays on the Mercury and the Portland, all of them colour coded.

 

Wills peered at the colourful display Porter had created, clearly unimpressed with his attempt at a flashy visual, then tapped it several times to zoom the image larger, peering at the displays. "Alright, talk to me, then. What have we got?"

 

Porter looked at her, frowning. "We have got a colour coded holograph of the Mercury's and the Portland's cargo areas. Blue are medical supplies, green are the staff's personal things, red are hazardous materials, yellow are spare parts and other engineering stuff, purple are science supplies." It was really quite easy and a muchly needed way to organise that chaos.

 

Wills quirked an eyebrow at the image, then dragged the deep blue medical triage supplies into a different position. "Keep those in easy reach; if someone gets a paper cut I don't want to be digging for four hours," she said crisply, tapping the panel to save the configuration. After a moment's consideration, she filled the now empty space with the green division. Personal items were about the last thing on her list of major concerns.

 

Porter shrugged, "if you need to change something, change it, as long as you get everything in there. Just keep track of everything and catalogue it, when you're done send it up to me. I'd bet some holodeck time that after we're done we'll get requests for things to be dug out again," Porter paused for a moment before he continued,"all of these requests are to be denied unless it is something really urgent or comes from the Captain, Commander or the Department Heads." Porter hoped that this move would be over soon. He didn't much mind the move as such but already dreaded unpacking everything again, when, of course, everybody would claim that their things be the most important ones.

 

Wills flashed him a dry grin. "If anyone wants something dug out you can just tell them to get it themselves; bad enough my system's getting turned inside out." She looked around at the chaos in the bay with a certain amount of disgust. "Would you believe it, usually this place runs pretty smooth." She laughed, a short barking sound, then shook her head. "Reconstructing it once we get to the new location is going to take more patience than I have on hand." With a flick of her wrist she transmitted the cargo deck configuration diagrams to her team leaders on the receiving end of the storage transfers, over on the ships.

 

Porter was not very happy about what he heard. "CPO Wills, I don't want anybody besides your people running around taking things out and putting them who knows where. Nobody but your people touch this stuff once it's here until it's officially being returned to the departments and crew. I know what a strain this puts on you and your department, trust me." When thinking about what still lay ahead of them he felt a mild throbbing right behind his left eye.

 

"Touchy, Porter?" Wills said with amusement, taking some satisfaction in knowing she was not the only one being driven crazy by this whole process. "Don't worry, no one but us'll touch a thing; I'm not quite that dumb." Glancing sidelong at him she grinned with deliberate sardonic understatement. "Don't have a coronary, Ensign. What's the worst that could happen?" She snorted and walked off, leaving that question to hang in the air as she moved on towards the next outgoing shipment of engineering equipment.

So it is at the time in the Academy reminder post by Chirakis? in the live chat button up there? in the holodeck? for one hour?

 

Welcome to STSF.

The time in the post by Chirakis is one option. There are academies every day at different times.

Monday 10 PM ET

Tuesday 9 PM ET

Wednesday 10 PM ET

Thursday 9 PM ET

Friday 9 PM ET

Saturday 12 AM ET

Sunday 3 PM ET and 9 PM ET

 

You can also find the times of Academies and Advanced simulations here Schedule. To find out how to sim you can go here How To Sim.

To join an Academy just click the aforementioned button and join the Holodeck (by simply double-clicking on it) and then follow the instructions the GMs post to the screen.

 

Again, welcome to STSF and have a lot of fun, hope to see you around.

"Cargo Bay"

 

A log by Ensign Damian Porter. Very special thanks to Sam Kent. 

 

 

 

Damian had gotten sick of listening to the Fleet's communications. Instead he had decided to leave the OPS station to crewman Fisher. He was in the turbolift now going down to one of the cargo bays where he wanted to find out how far the reports of what the stowaways had taken had proceeded. While standing there with his arms crossed and his back against the wall he pondered the whole Breen situation. He knew the Breen had destroyed the station before, even though that had been before his time. But what had happened to them this time? It was all very weird.

 

Damian's contemplations were interrupted by the bustle that started as soon as the turbolift doors opened. The cargo areas were always busy places, it looked very chaotic, but Damian knew that it was all well planned and very efficient. He stepped out of the turbolift and looked around him. This was so different from the Control Tower. Orders were shouted over a distance down here, a lot of people were running about and there were only very few consoles here. 

 

A man pointed towards a woman standing near a bulkhead holding a PADD on which she was taking notes, when Damian asked him who was in charge. He walked over and say: "Chief Petty Officer, do you have a minute?" 

 

CPO Rosalind Wills did not have a minute. It was bad enough that she and her teams had been turning themselves inside out to get the station ready to change position, and then to find out that they weren't actually moving after all; this issue with stolen supplies to be replaced was just another bit of trouble she had to deal with. Through the chaos around her she discerned the sound of her rank, and her head snapped up. Ensign Porter, OPS, was crossing the room at her. She groaned inwardly. She didn't need CT staff breathing down her neck right now. "What do you need?" she asked.

 

"Always that snappy tone CPO, I'm here to inquire about my reports of the supplies that the stowaways took." He knew they had a stressful time down here, but so did he, and it was their job to keep track of stuff. In fact, they should have reported missing goods to him much sooner than they had done. On the other hand, he should be grateful to get a chance to get away from the CT now, otherwise he'd be listening to comm chatter for the next few hours.

 

Wills grunted. "I got them, dealing with the replacement shipments as we speak, sir," she said curtly. She had yet to pin down where the broken link in her personal command chain was that had caused the breakdown in communication over the missing supplies, and she didn't like that not knowing; this situation had her frustrated and she didn't have much patience for Porter's solicitation, even if he did outrank her. She'd dealt with the bad-tempered Operations officer before. "If there's a problem, you'll be the first to know, don't worry. Anything else?"

 

Damian's mood did not improve at that reply. He knew that Wills was on the station for a long time and she was doing her job for even longer and he had only just started, but still, he was in a bad mood. He muttered: "If I were the first to know, I'd have known long ago." It felt good to vent, even though, CPO Wills didn't deserve this. Louder he said: " How is everything going with the move? I imagine that once the Breen situation is resolved the Captain will want that to happen asap."

 

"You heard as soon as we knew, sir, and not a moment before," Wills replied sharply, catching his mutter and not appreciating it much. "And the move's been ready for days and now all we're doing is waiting. You wouldn't happen to know what's actually going on up there, would you? 'Cause all we get down here is rumours and that doesn't make my job easier."

 

Leaning against the bulkhead, Damian took a deep breath and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "We're not sure, a huge Breen fleet was approaching, thus the red alert. All of a sudden they started phasing in and out and then vanished. Nothing's been heard or seen of them since. We sent out a fighter to get better scan results, now everybody's hunting for chronitons it seems." Damian shrugged, he was no scientist and didn't know much about chronitons and the like, he associated them with time travel and Romulan cloaks. "I don't like this at all, the Breen might be cloaked somewhere out there or they were just as surprised by this as we were, in which case I'm glad it was them and not us."

 

Wills grimaced. She didn't like uncertainty much; it was her job to keep timetables running and things moving on track, and this sort of upheaval didn't do much for her peace of mind. "Sounds like a barrel of laughs," she drawled, tapping off the PADD and shoving it into the arms of a passing crewman, who nodded at her and disappeared out into the corridor. "Bet the CT must be a fun place right about now."

 

 "Oh yes, loads of fun, we can hardly stop laughing up there. Not to mention that dip infestation. I'll be glad to get this whole thing on the move, and preferably leave the whole dips wing behind." Yes, he was much better off down here. Crewman Fisher could have all the fun for a while, he was happy to share.

 

Wills snorted. "Don't get many dips down here, and most days that makes me glad I took the job." Another PADD was shoved into her hands and she glanced over it and tapped the approval button, handing it back to the overworked-looking PO who had approached her from behind. "Let me know if you need a can of repellent, I'm sure we've got a can of it somewhere in these shipments."

 

At this Damian grinned. "Oh that would come in handy, I'm sure. Well, I don't want to keep you from anything. I guess I should better be heading back up to the CT. Just be sure to send those reports." He turned to leave and heaved a sigh, he really didn't feel like going back.

 

Wills laughed. "I multi-task; if you were really keeping me from anything, you'd be out of here on your rear by now. Sir," she added belatedly, though Porter's mood seemed to have improved enough that she felt relatively safe in the joke. "I'll have the reports up in 36 hours at the latest, assuming no one else shows up to point guns at us."

 

While waiting for the turbolift to arrive he turned around to her again and managed a smile. "Better don't assume anything, you never know out here." Then the doors in front of him swooshed open and he entered. When he looked at Wills again she was already busy with a PADD again.

First of all, I would like to thank the people who have participated so far.

 

I understand concerns for anonymity, I'm quite peculiar about it myself. I tried to make things as general as possible, but unfortunately I need some background information.

 

So I hope I will still hear from some of you, and those of you that have concerns I thank for taking your time to read through this.

Hello everybody,

 

I am looking for people who would be willing to help me with a questionnaire I composed for my term paper on linguistic relativity. As native speakers of English are hard to come by over here (Germany), I was hoping to find volunteers here on STSF. In order to participate the only prerequisite is that you are a native speaker of English.

If you want to help me out, please copy and paste the questionnaire into an email, fill it out and send your replies to [email protected]

It will be completely anonymous, and will only take you about five minutes. You would really help me, as this will get better the more data I have. There are no wrong answers.

 

I thank all of you in advance

 

A.

 

"Off Duty"

 

Damian woke abruptly. He blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked around him. Something felt decidedly odd about this, but his brain was still too sluggish to figure out what caused this feeling. Very slowly his synapses started to connect the right way and his brain started to process his surroundings.

 

He was in his quarters, but that didn't come as a surprise. What did come as a surprise, however, was the fact that he was sitting on his sofa... dressed in his uniform.

 

After a relatively big cluster of synapses that were responsible for parts of his memory had tentatively made contact for the first time since he had woken up he remembered that he had come back here after his shift. His plans had been to eat and sleep. That very moment Damian's stomach growled in a way that would have made the average Caitan scared. He frowned. Had he slept long enough to be hungry again? But then a sense of foreboding, undoubtedly also triggered by his now very active memory synapses, hit him. This made him look down at himself. What he saw made him utter a few choice swear words under his breath. What used to be a really yummy looking BLT sandwich was spread all over the trousers of his uniform. Clearly, it was time that things started to slow down a bit, Damian thought as he picked bread, tomatoes, bacon and lettuce off his trousers.

 

Twenty minutes later he had changed and was on his way to the gym, where he planned to spend most of the little time he still had left until his next shift started. This one would probably be just as busy and stressful as the other shifts had been ever since he had been assigned to Aegis. He would have to go through cargo logs to find out what the stowaways had taken, and re-order everything. The Breen were still out there and would have to be watched, as well as the Portland, unless she had returned by now. The stowaways needed quarters for when they got out of sickbay. And there still were about a million things to do for him concerning the move. He just hoped that Flight OPS would be quiet today. With this rather long "to do list" on his mind Damian sighed and started his laps.

"Fruit Basket"

A Joint Log by Midshipman Rachel E. Garret and Midshipman Damian Porter

 

After a long conversation with Scott, including not a few jokes that lightened her mood, Rachel was ready to admit that she needed to do some serious personal relationship repair in CT. Scott had mentioned fruit, then he added bagels, and you can't eat bagels without cheese. Gees, this was getting to be an expensive bit of repair. Her emotions mostly in check, her credit account not drained as much as she had expected, Rachel mounted the turbolift to the CT wondering how the heck she was going to do this, and knowing that however she did it she'd probably pull it off like the klutz that she was. But hey - such was life. Her life.

 

Damian was at the OPS console on the CT. The past couple of hours he had been busy working and it was still very quiet up here. The party was not over yet, so only a few people were manning only the essential stations. He transmitted some docking coordinates to an approaching shuttle and tried to resolve some last minute issues with some of the VIP quarters. Everything was quiet and going slow, but inside Damian was still fuming. What had Garrett been thinking? She had made him look like a fool in front of the other personnel. "Women!" He thought and shook his head.

 

Rachel took a deep breath as the lift doors opened to the CT, glanced around, and spied Damian working diligently at the OPS console. Ok. Gotta do this, so do it, already...

 

After a quick check to see who was on duty – hoping no one of consequence, like Muon or Brown, was there – Rachel exited the lift as nonchalantly as possible, marched up to Damian, and, without raising her eyes from the deck, unceremoniously plunked down a bag of grapes, bagels, and cheese in the middle of the OPS console with an, "Ok. I'm sorry." Then she turned to go.

 

Damian heard the CT doors open but didn't look up. He was too busy. But he did notice half a grocery store being thrown on his console, and someone mumbling something that sounded like an apology. This prompted him to give the matter his attention. "Okay, what's this? A picnic? And why aren't you staying?" He thought a course of inquiry to be better than confrontation. He didn't need another shouting match on the CT.

 

So he's even going to be a jerk about the apology. Well, ok - she deserved it. Rachel stopped half way to the lift, turned, and spit out, "It's an apology - ok? I'm sorry. I'm sorry I shouted at you. I'm sorry I made you mad. I'm sorry, so… have a good life." She wanted to stay and talk about it, but the others in the CT had stopped their conversations and, even though they were not watching, she knew they were - kind of. And she was through with scenes. She turned again, but the lift doors had already closed. Damn.

 

"Well, and that's it? Have a good life?" Damian was confused. As weird as women sometimes behaved, Rachel was different. So now there was a decision to be made, would he accept the apology and just 'have a good life' or would he pursue the matter and find out what had really happened earlier. Because it was quite obvious that something was bugging Rachel and that she had overreacted. Normally Damian wasn't the sensitive kind who cared much about the feelings of people he didn't know, but at the same time he had a reputation to lose, and an explanation in front of the people who had witnessed the argument earlier would quite suit him.

 

Rachel marched to the lift doors and pressed the call button, barely holding her emotions in check. Again. A small voice in the back of her childlike mind said, If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything. So she didn't. She remained in front of the doors hoping they would open soon but knowing they were probably stuck picking people up, dropping them off, picking them up, dropping them off. She made a mental note to put in a request for direct turbolift access to the CT for all essential personnel - especially for her when she needed a quick getaway.

 

 

 

Damian rolled his eyes behind her back and made a decision. "Okay, I get it, you don't like me. Quite frankly, I don't see why anyone wouldn't, but as it clearly seems to be the case here, I would very much appreciate an explanation. I'm quite sure our little discussion earlier was the result of a misunderstanding. Because, I'm really quite amazing, you know." He tried to joke about it. This wasn't an act of ignorance, but his way of trying to make things a bit easier for her. This could either go horribly wrong, or be just the right thing. He stood there and looked at Rachel.

 

Rachel was reaching her breaking point. This was not something she wanted to address in front of a crowd of strangers. Well, Damian was essentially a stranger, but he wasn't that much of a stranger. He was kind of a stranger. And he had tried to help her before. He was one of the first people she had met on the station and she had the feeling he would make a good friend. Maybe. So, since he didn't seem to want to make this private, she decided to make it private and strode back to the console.

 

Placing her hands firmly on the edge and leaning close to his face she whispered, "Ok. So you're amazing. Let me tell you something, Mr. Amazing. My name is Rachel E. Garrett. Ring a bell?" She waited to see his reaction, and when the light came on she continued. "Yeah. That Rachel Garrett. She was my grandmother. And who is our chief in engineering?" The light seemed to brighten. "Right. A Romulan. And he seems to think it's funny to tell me he had the pleasure of taking apart the Enterprise C. So I was upset when I came up here, ok? So I'm still upset - but not at you. So I'm sorry, ok?" She stood there, eye-to-eye with him, wondering if it was going to sink in or if he was as thick as he seemed.

 

Damian raised an eyebrow and whispered back. "Okay, I know how this feels. Well, maybe not, but let me tell you something. Do you think they would let him be here if he had had any part in that kind of taking apart? He's an engineer. Of course he takes ships apart." It seemed quite obvious to him what he had meant, every engineer would enjoy fiddling with the Enterprise C. So, he honestly doubted that Rachel and the new Chief of Engineering had the same kind of 'taking apart' in mind.

 

He is pretty thick, thought Rachel. So be it. "Right. Ok. So now you know. I'm sorry and I need to go before he spaces me for neglecting my duties - something I'm sure he would enjoy immensely." She heard the lift doors open and with one last glare at Damian she turned to for a swift exit. "Enjoy the grapes," she threw over her shoulder as the doors closed.

 

Damian shook his head yet again, this time at the closed doors of the turbolift. Had she even heard what he had said? Probably not, she seemed to be way too busy misunderstanding everybody. Damian turned back to his console and grinned at the stuff she had thrown down on it; she sure was a unique one. "She'll come around." He thought as he popped a grape into his mouth and went back to work. "She'll come around."

Subject: Captain's Request for Meeting

From: Operations

To: Ambassador Drankum, Ambassador Joy Two, Kith Inorom Ghemor, Dr. DJ McKinny, Lt Cdr Ronin Shepard, Dr. Nicolas Lepage, Tylus Petrinius Jorahl siva Romii N'Marys Gol'van, Cdr. Ethan Hawke, Cdr Brian Brown

CC: Captain Muon Quark

 

Captain Quark requests a meeting with the Diplomatic Corps and all the Department Heads. The meeting is to take place in Conference Room 1 of the Cardassian Embassy tomorrow at 0800. The reason for the meeting will be disclosed then.

 

Midshipman Damian Porter, Operations Officer

Welcome to STSF Syndalar,

 

for now you don't have to worry about species and biography. In the academies everybody's human and supposed to be a model starfleet officer, you create a biography with your species for the advanced simulation which you join after you graduate from the academy.

 

I hope to see you around

"Work, Work, Work"

A log by Midshipman Damian Porter

 

"Species 8472," Damian thought, "that was perfect, just perfect." A three legged and not very easy on the eyes species that lives in fluidic space. And it seemed like they had attacked a Starfleet vessel. Damian hoped sincerely that it would turn out to be a misunderstanding. Those could be dealt with, they had, after all, enough dips to sort out any misunderstandings conceivable by him. And he could imagine quite a lot of misunderstandings.

 

This whole thing meant extra hours for him, that was for sure. As the Yorktown required repairs and they brought in injured crewmembers he was sure that Engineering and Medical would send in updated shift schedules, which of course meant a whole lot of work more for him than people usually imagined. Then he would have to find out everything there was to know about Species 8472, as the TAC officer that was part of his job as well, he should probably meet with the Chief of Security, too.

 

Damian sighed, a mysterious species, a Romulan Chief of Engineering, a major construction site and the Yorktown had to be repaired. He had planned to chat up that half Klingon petty Officer tonight. But he would be stuck on Aegis for a while, there'd be a next time, unless some other calamity would happen, which, as he now thought, was quite likely. So much for the Starfleet uniform raising his chances with the girls, it prevented him from having any social life at all. Grumbling he turned back to his console and Species 8472.

"Da OPS Man at Work"

A log by Midshipman Damian Porter

 

Damian sat at his OPS console on the CT and prepared the stationwide announcement. He knew he should already have done that but there had been so many reports coming in which had to be dealt with first. And then there was the Captain bugging him for reports, because she had decided to run off to the scene of the first incident. Damian shook his head and scoffed which scared the young non comm who was standing in front of him holding out a hand with a PADD in it. Damian took it and waved his hand in a "dismissed" gesture. He wasn't in the mood to be nice, and he didn't really have the time for it either.

 

Damian had had a bad feeling as soon as he'd opened his eyes. It had been a long night with, very possibly, a drink or two too many. The details of the night, he found, had become rather hazy in his mind. After he had rolled out of bed he had taken something for his headache and treated himself to a long shower. It helped to clear his mind a little, which wasn't all that positive, as he now remembered being turned down by some girl in Drankums the night before. Ah well, her loss. Granted she had waited until he had paid her and her friend's drinks. Women! Sometimes he thought it would be nice to be a Ferengi man. But then again, things on Ferenginar must be changing too, seeing as they had a female Ferengi Captain.

 

After the shower, shaving and dressing he had hurried to the CT as his shift had started five minutes ago. Fortunately, the CT had been almost deserted, nobody who could have reprimanded him had been around. He had done his work grumpily, it felt like more people than usual were out to annoy him, but other than that everything had been normal. At least until that Cardassian had shown up on the CT wanting to talk to the Captain. Shortly afterwards all hell broke loose.

 

"Figures," Damian now thought, "Cardassians usually mean trouble." Damian heaved a deep sigh. How he hated that red alert klaxon, had to happen on a day he was hung over, too. Despite this little handicap his fingers flew over his console and he punched the combination of buttons required for a stationwide announcement as well as his authorisation code. He sighed again before he hit the final button that would allow him to be heard via the communications system all over the station. He sincerely hoped things would settle down soon, he needed some peace an quiet.

"First Contact"

A log by Midshipman Caelan Fletcher and Midshipman Damian Porter

 

'Day one and they're already calling me to the the control tower.' He grinned smugly to himself. Granted, it was only to pick up his room assignment, but Caelan had a sneaking suspicion he'd be visiting the station's command center quite frequently. Yes...soon enough and he'd be up here all the time, being asked for advice, complimented on his finesse with ship maintenance, the usual. It was just a matter of time... Forcing his inflated head through the turbolift door, Caelan walked off on to the control tower. He spotted Porter, unsurprisingly, at the OPS station and strutted over toward him.

 

Damian looked up when he heard the turbolift door swoosh open. He frowned at what he saw, not even he had strutted that overconfidently. Scoffing he muttered "Engineers, all weird." That one needed to be put in his place, at this moment Damian really liked being at OPS. He returned his attention to his console and monitored the PB.

 

Caelan moved a foot or two beside the Ops station. He didn't address Porter at first, spending a few moments to study the flashing lights on the console. Slowly, he turned his gaze toward Damian, "This is where I check in, right? " He gestured toward himself. "I was just assigned...Caelan Fletcher. I think you called me up a little while ago."

 

Damian took his time to finish what he was doing and then looked up slowly. "Check in, no. Report, yes. We're not a hotel after all Mr Fletcher. Here's your PADD with your quarters and access codes, and I have already received your shifts from your chief and added them too. If you want a wake up call I'm afraid you'll have to program the computer to do that." Damian handed him his PADD. "Anything else I can do for you?"

 

"Heh..." He reached out for the PADD, tapping it a few times in his left hand before keeping his grasp. "Not a hotel?" He smiled wryly. "I suppose the way you described those jefferie's tubes made this place seem so accommodating, I could hardly tell the difference." He took a second glance around the tower. "Suppose there's no bellboy then, hm? No big deal...I suppose. I travel light."

 

Damian grinned despite himself. "Maybe you can get one of the dips to help you. And we have the best jeffries tubes in the galaxy, just ask Garrett, I think she's slept in them for a while." Maybe this guy wasn't as bad as he had come off at first. Lucky him, or he'd have reassigned him new quarters.

 

Caelan smirked. "Well..." He held up the PADD, "...thanks, for that." Pivoting, he made his way toward the turbolift, just barely squeezing through once again. "Yeah.." he thought to himself, "...just a matter of time."

"Aegis Emergency Broadcasting System"

 

A joint log by Captain Muon Quark and Midshipman Damian Porter

 

 

Damian stood over his console and went over today's restocking shipments and updated the resources' files. Since Garrett had left nothing exciting had happened on the CT and he had been able to go about his business. Now he was waiting for the Commander or the Captain to clear the warning system and Garrett's assignment to this project.

 

Muon exited her office onto the CT and noticed Porter at the OPS station. "So Mr. Porter, ready to discuss the warning system for the diplomatic suites? "

 

He looked up and was surprised that Captain Quark wanted to talk to him about this, must be quite important then. "Certainly Captain. It's really not a problem, but there are a couple of things that need clarification."

 

Muon took a seat a the console next to Porter. "This is a very important issue. We need to avoid confusion and possible misunderstandings with the diplomats. That's what this warning system is intended for, so they know what's going on and will be able to act accordingly. So, go ahead Mr. Porter."

 

Damian grinned, and, as was his habit, said exactly what he thought: "Yes, and it will keep them from bugging me while I'm right in the middle of more important things. Anyway, I'll need to know what to tell them, I mean how much info do we give them? And I have a request to make." While he was speaking he kept tapping on the console, he might be talking to the Captain but he also still had a job to do, one he didn't want to do all through the night.

 

Muon considered for moment: "Well they are familiar with emergency protocol and what to do in, let's say, a red alert status. That's not the issue. What we need to tell them, is what the emergency is and how it affects their embassy here on Aegis. They will in turn, need to alert any couriers, visitors, or whatever and make sure they know what to do. See where I'm going with this?"

 

Damian looked up from his work and frowned. "Captain Quark, your request may sound simple, but it isn't exactly. I mean, I know what you want from me, but you have to take into consideration that this means different messages for different scenarios. We can't cover all scenarios, I mean, a few of the most conceivable ones, yes, but not ... no, no, we have to do this from a different angle." He took a couple of steps back and sat down on his chair to think.

 

Muon nodded. She knew very well what kind of problem Porter was facing. "Yes. These messages don't need to be detailed. Just a general status of station systems and whether they are still available for use, such as sensors and the like. Also, whether any ships are authorized to leave or not, whether movement is restricted. The messages should be in accordance with standard Starfleet and Federation protocol.

 

Damian was only half listening and sounded a tad absent-minded when he said:."Captain, I think I have an idea."

 

Muon grinned at the hard working new OPS/TAC person. "Certainly Mr. Porter, go ahead."

 

"What if we had snippets of messages that can be recombined, you know like words, each one has a meaning which can be combined with other words with meaning to form different sentences. And then you assign a... say number, to each snippet." Damian frowned. "Do you know what I mean?"

 

At this she nodded appraisingly, she liked the way he was thinking. "Yes, I believe I do. Like a code for each situation. Excellent idea. After you drafted that up, arrange with the diplomatic suites to incorporate that in their system so it goes to all of them at once.

 

Damian had the feeling she didn't quite get the whole picture yet, but he'd clear that up with his report, she got the basic idea and that was all that mattered at this moment. "It's sort of a code for each situation, but yeah, that's something I'll put on a PADD for you and hand it in, would you like a list of codes when I'm done? Oh, and to set up the system I could use the help of an engineer."

 

Muon got up to attend to other matters. "Very well. I shall get you an engineer. Go ahead and proceed with the work Mr. Porter. Good Job."

 

"Thank you Captain." He was wondering if the engineer the Captain was going to "get him" was going to be Garrett, she was nice, good looking, certainly, but a person one had to get used to. Either way, they should have the system up and running in no time.