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Guest Laarell

"Idle Hands"

If Laarell had been an A&A officer -- one of the usually useless anthropology and archaeology "scientists" that enjoyed nothing more than immersing themselves in new and fascinating societies -- she probably would have enjoyed the fascinating ritual. As it was... well, it was interesting, but she frankly would have enjoyed it more if the damned doctors hadn't decided they had to get hypos of drug-neutralizers. Really, they couldn't properly participate and be part of the society if they had to get the Ceremony Lite version.

 

As it was, Laarell had -- mercilessly soberly -- been obliged to take part in a watered down celebration of... whatever the religious figure's name was that she'd written down on her padd... complete with the pleasure of hearing the far-ranging vocal abilities of the attending crew, some of whom were godsawful enough that she would rather died before ever having to hear again, and some of whom she'd rather have not known were as talented as they were.

 

That particular, rather embarrassing thought made her turn about the same dark green color as a potted plant, and she sighed. Oh well. She'd been making up for it by doing a lion's share of the work after the XO had departed, and Laarell figured that the Dameon rather owed his senior staff a bit of gratitude (and leniency) for doing paperwork that he (or his pair of yeomans), otherwise, would have been stuck doing.

 

Of course, what the Dameon didn't know was the ratio of paperwork-dispersal to the department heads. Laarell would never have complained, or mentioned it to the captain, but it was suffice to say that Science had been picking up what Engineering wasn't doing -- and what "Engineering" was doing, Laarell suspected had a forged Trill thumbprint on it from Lieutenant Lane's dutiful work. She'd been processing about another quarter to third of the administrative data than Science had originally been apportioned, padds mysteriously making their way to her office and gods knew she didn't mind helping out the Trill (even if she figured he had no idea that she was helping him), but... it still left her with more work than she'd had time for in a normal six to eight hour shift.

 

Nor was she actually about to log the extra hours she was putting in when she snuck back into the labs during the wee hours of the morning. At the end of the paperwork there was still... shock... Science to be managed, and Laarell would be damned if they were going to sacrifice data research and sci-analysis on Excalibur's assignments because the department head was wallowing in paperwork. Besides, the last thing she really wanted was someone putting two and two together as to why she was overworking herself -- or worse, deciding to take matters into his own claws and labeling her a workaholic. And gods only knew what his prescription for that would be.

 

Besides, burying herself in work was a good stand-by trick for keeping her mind from wandering too much to things that were worrying her. At the moment, she had a fairly large one (that she refused to even acknowledge; Laarell didn't really care that Admiran had been... preoccupied), as well as a thousand more things on her plate than she ever really wanted to be dealing with at the moment. In that delightfully colloquial Earth proverb, idle hands were the devil's tools, and if she could avoid a little bit of trouble and headache by gorging herself on Duty, then by all means, she was happy to do it.

Edited by Laarell

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