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Turnez sits along at a table, grumbling to himself as he aggressively jabs at a datapad.
Voiddamn tech! When the hell are they going to get my data pad fixed? I am about five minutes away from flushing this one out the airlock!
Turnez leans back, rubbing his temples and taking a breath. He throws the data pad aside and takes a long drink from the glass in front of him.
Nhaima walked through the corridors, halfway through enjoying a mug of cider which she’d flavored with an extra shot of whisky, when she passed the galley. Noting that the large-ish room was mostly empty, she glanced around for anyone she knew until her eyes landed on the coffee service. Smiling conspiratorially, she stepped over the threshold and picked up one of the menu cards detailing what had been available at evening mess. She placed it against the slightly rounded corner of a table and tore it in two then pulled out a pen and tube of adhesive from her jump suit.
On the smaller piece, she carefully printed ‘Lt. Seniors to be limited to one cup of coffee or hjoacoa per six hour rotation.’ and applied it to the wall above the bin of fresh mugs. Less carefully on the larger sheet, she then scrawled ‘Please tell Lt. Cdr. Matsiyan that I’m not a Caltron. I’m a good coffee pot!’ Another bead of adhesive was applied to this sheet and she wrapped it around the communal french press. She sat back to quickly scan her handiwork then moved to a different area of the galley to innocently read from a datapad, drink, and observe.
Spotting Nhaima and watching quietly, Turnez raises an eyebrow and calls over as she moves to sit down
Ha, I saw that. You know with the right equipment, the Lt. Commander will be able to trace the ink back to that pen.
Take the pen down to the science lab and run it through the phase varience analysis array and it’ll be incinerated without setting off any alarms… apparently. And I happen to know the science techs down there love having a bit of fun throwing things through it.
Nhaima jumped slightly at the unexpected voice.
Gah, missed you… bloody hell. Good to know though about the lab techs….. not that I have even a passing need to incinerate seemingly innocuous items.
She raised her mug towards him in thanks and sipped from it.
Rodger walks into the bar unceremonially, after being unable to sleep the previous night and a tiring day of paperwork. Shuffling over to the table filled with coffee makings, he notices the small additions to the notice board, and quickly grabs and fills 2 mugs with coffee and four large spoons of sugar each , hurrying to a table in a faraway corner. He didn’t notice anybody else in the bar in his haste. (still a cadet, I’ll need to retake my ensign exam)
“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Being abducted for filing pretty much anything is back and mind breaking. Ah the life of a one day secretary.” He sags into the seat, not even daring to look at the data pad thrown on the table beside him.
Matthew walks through the door. Seeing Nhaima and Turnez, he greets them before going to the bar and ordering a steaming cup of Yilach. He then rejoins the group.
“Turnez, you seem a bit out of sorts. What’s going on?”
Mundy walks in, looks around, nods to Turnez, Nhaima and Wilcon. She walks up to the bar and reaches for the mug Guy is offering her.
Thank you, she tells him, and takes a sip. As a very wise dog used to say, “Ahhh… nectar!” Though he said it about the wrong beverage.
She looks down at her datapad, and raises an eyebrow.
Really, Computer? Where? She glances over to the notices by the coffee press Hmmm. Authorization check, Computer, if you please. She waits a moment, drinking, with a rapt expression on her face. She looks at her screen, and smiles. That’s all right then. Well done, Computer.
Gesturing towards the discarded datapad on the table.
This piece of crap was pulled out of stores whilst mine is in for a fix. Last shift, the whole system infection from the Caltrons seemed to have impacted my datapad’s interface protocols. I’ve had to leave it with the techs whilst they rebuild it. In the meantime, I am stuck with an older pad, which seems to take an age to do anything.
For the past hour, I have been trying to review internal sensor analysis from last shift in the hopes of helping solve the mystery of the Caltron software virus aboard the Viper. So far, I’ve got nowhere. On my own ‘pad, I had a whole host of sub-routines and analysis programs, some of which I designed myself… but I have nothing like that on this piece of junk.
“Take the time away from your main pad to set up a database and use your pad to interface with it? That’s where I try to do most of my computing, at the very least. Means I don’t always have all of my tech in the field, but I’m not hindered by hardware access…. still won’t solve the input sensitivity issues the older models have. I always feel like I’m trying to stab something with my finger tips rather than just touching or typing.”
She drank from her mug before adding, “Nasty mess, the Caltrons, though.”
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