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Is It Still Dereliction...Caffeinated Version

[2 November 2387 - Stardate 2387.306 - About an hour after the beginning of Alpha shift (immediately following the sim of 5/30)] - Jylliene


Jylliene sat at her station, scanning through items on her console screen, a nearly empty coffee cup in one hand.




The reports are so much easier to read more quickly now. I really am flying through these. I wonder what the explanation was for the whiskey and the florist? Why does a florist need whiskey? Well, though, maybe I’d need whiskey too if I were selling flowers all day. “Did you anger your wife? Your girlfriend? Your wife about your girlfriend? Is it your anniversary? Her birthday? Was it yesterday? Do you need something to encourage your superior to give you that promotion?”


That probably wouldn’t work with the captain. She doesn’t seem like the flower type. A nice dagger in a display case, perhaps. Or maybe that’s what the whiskey is for. Branching out. Black is a good color on the captain. Dark blue or green or red might be too. But it would need to be very dark. Have I seen her out of uniform? Surely I have at some point. Maybe not. I don’t remember at the moment when it would have been, though.


Wow, I’m already done with these reports. Nice. Now to review supplies. Can’t imagine we’d be needing supplies this soon, but who knows? Always good to be sure. The SubCommander probably would know right off the top of his head, if this were his duty. He’d look good in black too. In most of the same colors, really. I wonder if the tailors on board have enough of their material? But that’s why I’m going through this. Make sure. We’ve been going through a lot of coffee, too. Might need to check on those levels. Can’t run out of that. It looks like we have a fair bit. Good to know. Wonder how fast we’ve been going through it? What was the inventory level at last record - ah, there it is. Hm. We are burning through pretty quickly. Might need to order some now, before things get desperate and we need to ration or something.


How would they decide on those rations? I mean, it’s not like this is a desperate survival - well, perhaps it would be. I mean, if security isn’t alert, they might miss something important. Or any of us here. Might try bringing two vessels to the same docking port. That would be bad in a number of rather large ways. I wonder if the SubCommander drinks coffee? He misses nothing. But that’s why all the monitors. What does he drink? Eh well. Where was I? Oh, supplies.


This all looks pretty good. Only thing that stands out is that florist request. Security has that handled. I’ll let it stand until I find out what the outcome was. Maybe there is a sensible reason. I don’t know what it would be. Unless to numb one from sales. That must be it. Or maybe she’s hosting a meeting. A Floral Symposium. Wonder what that would be like? “The Latest Trends in Tulips. Arranging Azaleas for Fun and Profit. Rare Roses and You: A Study in Conservation.” Wait, they sell them, not raise them. That would be more of a gardener or arboretum topic. “The Best Vases for Violets.” I don’t think violets are really much of a florist flower. Pretty, though. Nice color, too. Do I have anything in violet? I wonder if you would try to match your clothing to your topic? Might be too much. Or might be the perfect gimmick. What was that quote? Gotta have a gimmick… Something like that.


What would I host if I were at a symposium? Nothing exciting, I’m sure. Well, not to anyone outside the job. Let’s face it, it’s a bunch of monotony punctuated by moments of sheer chaos. Only hopefully organized chaos. I mean, that’s what all this record keeping directing ships stuff is for, right? So that we have the information and supplies in hand when everything goes haywire. Hard to see how cleaning materials or furniture might matter in the middle of a possible station siege, but maybe building barricades. Who knows? Ours is not to reason why, or something. We keep our stuff straight and don’t worry about why. Other than when a florist orders whiskey in bulk.


My cup is empty. Here comes the Ensign. Cute kid. Probably not much younger than I am, all told, just has the youthful type of look.


Ensign Lackey approached with another cup. Jylliene smiled at him, then shook her head. “No thanks, that was plenty for now. Thank you again, Ensign.” She watched him step away, then returned her attention to her console.



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