Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Jul 28, 2018 15:04:07 GMT
Duncan Foyle Commander
Male Human Caucasian Born May 4th, 2366, Midleton, Ireland, Earth Height 1m83 76 kilos body weight Black hair Blue eyes Has a monochrome tattoo of the SOL system running down his spine Father: Robert Capa, °2345 Mother: Cassie Foyle, °2344 Siblings: Searle Capa, halfbrother, °2379 Has an insatiable thirst for fundamental knowledge, his greater goal being a desire to understand the fabric and origin of the Universe and the physical nature of reality History 2366: Born in the south of Ireland to Robert Capa and Cassie Foyle, both Medical students at University College Cork 2369: Moved to San Francisco with his mother who joined Starfleet Academy 2373-2381: Lived on a few different starships and stations, wherever his mother was stationed 2381: Joined the Academy at fifteen, pursuing a command career path, emphasis on science 2384: Cadet year aboard USS Idaho, Galaxy class, science department 2385: Assigned to USS Idaho as Ensign, science department 2387: Promoted to Lieutenant, Junior Grade 2390: Promoted to Lieutenant and SCI number Two 2393: Promoted to Lieutenant Commander and Chief Science Officer 2394: USS Idaho is lost in the final battle of the Second Tzenkethi War. Escaped via pod, saving his bridge crew colleagues while injured himself 2395: Awarded purple heart and Starfleet Medal of Commendation 2395: Promoted to Commander and reassigned to USS Irulan, Norway class, as CSO 2396: With the increased shipbuilding efforts after the UFP/TR split, Duncan is tansferred to newbuilt USS Halleck, Exeter class, as XO 2397: USS Halleck is heavily damaged during operation Seleyan Sun and is scrapped shortly after, its parts used in repairs to different Exeter class ships
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Jul 29, 2018 23:06:25 GMT
Operation Seleyan Sun, Task force Vulcan, phase 4 USS Halleck, bridge
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"Understood Halleck, fall back and regroup at Deneva. Fleet command out."
"Right, you heard the man!" Captain Jiz McQueen shouted over the mayhem of blaring alarms on the vessel's red hued bridge. "Maximum Warp to Deneva, before they target our nacelles too!" "Aya ma'm, engaging now."
Seconds later, the streaking starfield showing up on the main viewer had everyone breathing audible sighs of temporary relief. At the liberation of Deneva they had wondered how the heck they'd gotten so lucky, taking not even a scratch while so many fellow ships had been reduced to space rubble, suffering so many lives. Yet Deneva was safe, rid from True Federation occupation. 'Membership', they'd tell you if you'd bother to ask, but everyone knew better, ofcourse.
Regroup, inventorise, resupply, fall in line, jump into a world of hurt at Weytahn. So it went.
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"Status, people!"
Commander Duncan Foyle expected swift replies, even if there was nothing to report yet. A simple 'standing by' he regarded as satisfactory an answer any department head could give awaiting feedback from their sensors or teams, while still communicating clearly to First Officer and Captain. Used to the on-bridge flow, people replied in an unspoken order, clockwise around the central chairs.
Navigation: "Deflector's almost shot and I can barely turn at warp. Impulse available at roughly thirty percent." Operations: "Comms link to fleet command alive, no links back to the task force. The jam appears active still." Tactical: "Dorsal phaser banks are fried, ventral were taken out by those blasts we took while beaming out the USS Yueh crew. Aaaand we're out of torps, too." The Bolian shrugged, apparently out of tools. Medical: "Sickbay's an IC unit now, triage outside in the corridors, most from Yueh. No new casualties to report." Engineering: "Shields are burnt out and we're low on just about everything. Barely power to maintain Warp seven dot three, absolute maximum."
"Whoa..." Both McQueen and Foyle turned their heads towards the science station, alerted by Lieutenant Dagenham's break in the round of reports. The red haired Bajoran looked up, looking confused. "Something followed us in, matching our speed."
The Ex Oh leaned forward instantly, reconfiguring the all-purpose console in front of his seat into multi scanning mode and tapping away with such fury as if on a heavy dose of inaprovaline. Results came quickly. "That's a long range science probe." More tapping, then a frown. "Class eight, those can do Warp... nine." Foyle looked up at his Captain. "We can't outrun it in this state."
"It's got cargo!" Chief of Tactical Hawat again. "Fuckers have loaded a quantum torpedo head, and it's broadcasting location data back to Weytahn..." "Shit,"both CO and XO exclaimed in unison before looking at eachother, clearly concerned.
"We can't have it follow us back to Deneva, Cap. They'll know exactly where all of our weak and damaged are regrouping, and can jump right in to finish 'em off." The Captain inhaled sharply and rubbed her forehead, acutely aware of the direness of Halleck's situation. Without armament or shields, or shuttles for that matter, they faced a dilemma where the only feasible option was also the least desirable. "Looks like we need to take one for the team, so to speak," Duncan said gravely. "Can't see any other way out of this pickle, Jiz."
Captain Jisbelle McQueen closed her eyes and nodded, aware of what needed to be done, and stood up to adress her crew. "Alright, everyone. Our pursuer cannot learn of our fallback point, so..." A quick glance down at Foyle, "We need to deflect it away from our current course, then terminate it. Helm, veer away as best you can, prepare for warp exit in ten minutes. Duncan..." A nod, then the Irish born and Cali raised second in command hit the shipwide intercom. "This is First Officer Foyle. Initiate evacuation procedure Delta. All non critical personnel to the escape pods. T minus nine minutes and counting. Bridge out."
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Exactly nine minutes later, the slender silhouette of the Exeter class USS Halleck exited its Warp bubble, re-emerging into regular space. On maximum impulse, the ship turned around fully and sped away from its exit point at point fourteen C. Seconds before the Section 31 modified long range multimission probe come torpedo come bloodhound itself dropped from subspace, the cloud of escape pods decoupled and floated away from the mother hull, carrying literally everyone but the bridge crew and a lone engineer down in the core control hall. As the probe looped around once in order to get a sense of its surroundings, Halleck also completed their own turn, putting the unarmed and unshielded vessel between the quantum ordinance loaded bloodhound and it's own daughter pods.
"We're in position," Helm confirmed as the ship eased to a full stop. So did the Section's probe, apparently, as indicated by NAV, SCI and TAC sensors. A stop, five thousand meters in front of Halleck's bow.
The Captain frowned. "What the hell is it doing there?" she whispered, barely loud enough for herself to hear. Confusion was present among the bridge crew, which happened to be the entire ship's crew now, save for Paul down in Main Engineering ofcourse. Half a minute passed in silence.
"Captain! It's turning away, towards... shit!" A panicked look in the redhead's eyes, "Deneva! It figured out where we were headed!"
Five awkwardly silent seconds passed as McQueen stared at the viewscreen before sinking back into her chair, looking utterly defeated as the probe powered up it's miniature Warp engine, something which would take her own ship far longer to do. She knew she'd been outsmarted, by a damn science probe. One with a higher Warp speed than her own ship, deeming it unstoppable and, in her mind, the ensuing disaster at the Deneva fallback point unpreventable. Her vision went black near the edges. Through the near silent dullness governing her ears, Duncan's shouting voice seemed far distant. Until he slapped her across the face, that is. Even this sudden return of vision and noise did not get her out of that deep state of utter defeat she had fallen into. Foyle stood up and continued shouting, albeit at the other people present now.
"Helm, full ahead! Catch that probe before it Warps out! Grease, divert all power to the impulse engines! Kill life support to anywhere but here and main engineering! All others, to the aft escape pod, now!" Glancing down at the Big Chair, "And take our Captain with you."
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Out of the little portholes in the bridge escape pod, the heads of Tactical, Science and Operations gazed out, Captain McQueen was sat on the floor, getting first line treatment for deep shock by the assistant doctor. In silence, they saw their beautiful ship receeding away, saw it make a turn around the bloodhound probe, positioning itself along the path it needed for a clear jump out of here. Determined to complete its automated mission, the probe continued powering up for subspace entry, then engaged maximum Warp.
Right before it would enter the telltale slit out of three dimensional reality, it collided with - and exploded through - the USS Halleck's neck section, severing it's saucer away from the engineering hull, tumbling off into an uncontrolled spiral. High speed debris from the collison and the quantum detonation tore through her starboard nacelle, sending the Warp core reaction spiralling out of control towards inevitable criticality. More seconds passed in silence.
"There!"
The Bolian chief of Tactical pushed his finger to the porthole's glass, indicating where he correctly saw said core zooming away after a succesful ejection. The pod occupees instinctively ducked down before the antimatter flash from its ignition could render them blind. What was left of their gracious ship after the shockwave had rumbled past them, and past the cloud of escape pods, showed a few lights still, adrift against the backdrop of stars and the band of the Milky Way. Moments later, the senior pod's comms creaked to life.
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Four days later.
"Remind me again, son... Who's call exactly was it to stop that probe at all cost?" "It was a joint command decision, Admiral. Both Captain McQueen and mine, after consulting the senior crew." "Hmm. Yes. Right."
Admiral Kynes flipped through Duncan's report again, comparing it to the bridge recorder data. "I believe I understand, mister Foyle." He looked up and put down the PADD, then stared down USS Halleck's executive officer for a good long while. "She's being put down, I'm afraid. Too much damage to repair, too few factory parts to patch up the other Exeters, too. She'll live on, son, be it in pieces across the fleets."
Nothing more than a blink and a wistful nod came from Duncan's form, although he felt like crashing internally. He felt the work he put in during his year on Halleck, building a strong working system with his colleagues under the seemingly unshakable Captain McQueen fall away from him. Or rather, himself falling away from them. He knew he'd be back at work without pause, 'Get your sore ass back onto the bicycle right after you've keeled over' his mom used to say, which was the right way, the only way. And yet, losing his Captain to Starfleet's mental rehabilitation institution had shaken him greatly. Seeing her frozen up in her own mind, utterly defeated by a wrong call, was a new thing to Foyle. A bad thing, a wrong thing. Ofcourse, he'd left mention of the exact moment of Jiz's collapse vague in his final report. He hoped he'd learned from it, so when such time would come for himself to endure, he'd be ready. Hopefully. For now, there was only turmoil.
The Admiral, a strong empath, breathed a slow sigh and turned away his gaze.
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Post by Nola on Jul 30, 2018 6:01:20 GMT
That was a great log, G, but my juvenile mind has latched onto 'Jiz McQueen' and won't let go!
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Post by Einar on Jul 30, 2018 9:11:31 GMT
That was a great log, G, but my juvenile mind has latched onto 'Jiz McQueen' and won't let go! you too, huh? Fantastic log Gunther, that was really awesome!
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Jul 30, 2018 9:18:55 GMT
Hey, go blame Alfred Bester for that name! ;-)
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Post by CO_Capt_Savage on Jul 30, 2018 14:06:20 GMT
Great first log! I look forward to more!
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Aug 13, 2018 18:46:12 GMT
Stardate 11808.06 With Soph as XO Joanne Feyna
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As soon as the main viewer on the Akira class starship Zorya displayed the ever so familiar zooming starscape of a ship at Warp, and once assistant Navigator Bleet looked a tiny bit more relaxed, Duncan Foyle nodded a satisfied nod, then rose from the central chair, turned a a little to his right and nodded at Joanne Feyna. "Commander," he spoke while using the open palm of his left hand to indicate the way to the ready room, before turning and walking to, and through, its sliding door.
Jo took a moment to draw in a slow breath. It wasn't unnoticed that this Captain was already showing more confidence than the last, despite his youth, but it did niggle her a little that this boy....no, Captain, just assumed she would follow his unspoken command. The breath expelled through her nose quietly, and she stood up gracefully, following him into the Ready Room that she had known under the last three Captains.
In the room Foyle, oblivious, then gestured towards the guest seat while stepping over to the replicator to get himself glass of water. "Would you like something, too?", he spoke over his shoulder.
"I'll take a peppermint tea, hot. Thank you Sir." She took the offered seat, trying not to judge this man before seeing him in action. Jo knew, deep down, that all her Captains will forever be compared to one, and likely found lacking. She was nothing if not loyal, even to the dead.
Duncan took both newly metarialized beverages, placed the steaming hot cup on the (his?) desk while sipping his glass of water, then slid out the second guest seat and sat down, too. "Sorry about beaming in directly, bit of a mad dash to get out here in time. Brass assigned me just, like, yesterday morning." Another sip. "Oh! Right back !" He veered up and dashed out to the bridge, to appear seconds later, carrying his box which he then put on the floor. Taking out the other award to assign and putting it on the desk, he sat down again. "Need to get this one to the Doctor once she's available."
Jo sipped politely of the glass mug of faintly green coloured tea. “I’m sure, whatever the award is, she will appreciate it. She is a very good doctor, which is why she wasn’t able to attend your arrival. She was working on a patient, and sadly they don’t tend to keep to the ship’s schedule.” She added a small smile at the end of her comment, showing her approval of Izzy.
"Nice to know the Medical department is in good hands." Duncan twirled the glass in his hand ever so slightly, looking down at the tiny wavefront forming on the water's surface. "I'm hoping we won't need her skills too often, though. This... war thing, is not my cup of tea. Heck, I'd rather take a misbehaving pulsar with unpredictable gamma outbursts every day, than having to fire a torpedo at a bunch of misguided living souls." He emptied the glass in one swig and put the glass on the table with a slight thud.
The smile returned to Jo’s face as she listened, thinking how idealistic that sounded to her now. “I agree sir, that does sound like a preferable situation.” She paused to drink some more of her tea. “But war doesn’t have a tendency to acquiesce to our preferences. Our sickbay has been well used since my assignment here.” She placed the half full cup onto the Captain’s desk. “You will have to prepare yourself for the... our situation. Starfleet needs people to do the messy work. We are no longer ships of solely exploration.” The smile turned a little sad.
"Yeah, I noticed. Lost two ships already, I'm not too keen on losing this one, too. She does have a lot more bite than most, luckily..." Only now he broke his staring into his emptied glass, turning his head to look Feyna in the eye. "You know, I know a lot about this ship. Well, about the class, mostly. But about her crew, apart from the personnel files I read yesterday in transit? Not much, if anything. However, you do, so I'll be counting on your experience to keep bridge efficiency on point. A lot, probably."
Jo bowed her head to try and hide her smirk. Who would ever have thought her a people person? Raising her head, her expression was back to serene. “Whatever you require of me, Captain. I do not envy you your job, and would not wish it myself, therefore I will do what I can to ensure you are successful in it.”
Some form of expression, halfway between relief and a smile, formed on Foyle's face at that before nodding slowly. "Thank you," he spoke sincerily. A deep breath and mild sigh followed, knowing he'd probably be needing that help rather often. "Any straight up, essential advice I need to hear right now?"
“Trust them. At least your senior staff. They have worked together for a while.” There was a moment of silence after her last response, and Jo felt a frisson of apprehension, realising that was basically what she had told Ishihara when she had asked for advice. And Jiang before her. For a moment, the unpleasant thought that maybe she was the bad omen crossed her mind. “They... they are a good crew. Treat them well, and they will follow you.” Her mouth had suddenly become uncomfortably dry, despite the tea.
"I see." Duncan nodded, oblivious. "Then I will do so and try not to lead them into folly." A pause. "Also, this event we're attending... I gather it might not be easy for them, or you." A slight cough. "Were we invited to, say a few words at the, eh, ceremony... would you like to?"
She looked him straight in his eyes at this. “You are the Captain, Sir. If you order it, I will do so. But certain members of the crew would be aware that it would be against my natural inclination.” She paused again. “I can whatever kind of XO you need of me. Even one that does public speaking.”
Inhaling sharply, and suddenly acutely aware of the fact he would possible be forcing Joanne into something she'd really rather avoid, Foyle merely nodded a couple of times. After a longish pause, he let out the breath he was holding. "I'll... see what I can learn about this Captain Rome before the ceremony, then." Then the new Commander, Captain... stood up and held out his hand for Joanne's teacup, flashing a slight smile.
She handed him the cup, and with a moment of honesty “My mourning for Jonathan Rome happened a long time ago. It has to be ended. We cannot live in the past.” She grinned at him. “After all, I have a new Captain now.”
Something of a genuine smile formed around Foyle's lips this time, before thinking he might look like an idiot, standing there with two empty beverage containers. He blinked and shook it off. "Thank you for your time, Commander Feyna." The glass clinked as it tipped against the teacup. "That'll be all for now. You have the bridge, please notify me once we arrive at Free Haven."
Feyna nodded in acknowledgment, and stepped through the doors back onto the bridge, her apprehension in the new young Captain slightly appeased.
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Post by aoibheni on Aug 17, 2018 14:47:42 GMT
OK, so there was this kid's TV show in Ireland in the 80's (which Cillian Murphy undoubtedly is also aware of) called "The Tongue Twisters"; two aliens would recite a tongue twister, then their necks would lengthen, and then, they'd say it faster and faster, until... actually. hang on. www.youtube.com/watch?v=JnIf2RpD0lQThere. I can't place why (cause the photo looks fine proportionally...) but that's what that image reminds me of. hehe
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Aug 17, 2018 15:01:45 GMT
Well, half of my editing time was spent on moving his head up and down in PS to get him to look as natural as possible, soooo that video sort of happened in my photoshop, yes.
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Post by aoibheni on Aug 17, 2018 17:11:37 GMT
hahaha. Well, let's hope your PS experience was less emotionally disturbing than 1980's Irish kids' TV.
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Aug 30, 2018 9:56:13 GMT
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Rascal
Lore Committee
Posts: 120
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Post by Rascal on Sept 30, 2018 14:03:11 GMT
SD 1180923
CO Commander Foyle with Commander Lyon Commander Knight
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Diplomacy.
"Three verbs are essential when attempting to resolve conflict. Those are talk, talk and talk," Duncan's mom used to preach that line whenever her staff at Medical HQ needed straightening. Not so much against her own son, ofcourse. There, a stern "Listen here, young man..." had been the usual option. Talking would have been better, in hindsight.
This Doctor Foe from the Diplomatic Corps seemed to have done an exhausting lot of talking lately, finally finding a way for two particularily adverse factions to sit and have a chat. Strange of them to ask for a Federation warship with a new Captain, one with no diplomatic experience to speak of at that, but so be it. Foyle blinked and took a deep, slow breath and looked out the ready room window again.
Out here, Orion looked just a little different, mostly because Betelgeuse was a relatively nearby star and the path to New Haven was almost ninety degrees "West" from that constellation, if you had Earth as a starting point. M42 itself on the other hand, several times farther out, looked exactly the same. Stargazing was Duncan's go-to relaxation method, his way of clearing the mind of clutter and thus of keeping his focus, too.
Mindful of his senses as he'd become in such a state, the mere weight of the PADD in his lap drew Foyle's attention towards it. He picked it up with his left hand and spun around to his desk, upon which he then leaned both his elbows and activated the flat portable device. Two personnel files, adorned with pictures of men in uniform, showed. Both of them had a red acronym marked across: M.I.A. Ofcourse, this was no longer correct, and he was expecting a ring from them in the very near future.
Rojer and Ethan stepped onto the bridge, the security escort with them since they still had no right to be on the bridge without one. Both have had enough time since Izzy cleared them to get properly cleaned up in the quarters that were assigned to them. Hair cut to regulation standards, although Rojer did lightly mourn his curling locks that got cut off. He looked over at Ethan, wondering if the dark-haired pilot felt the same sense of disconnect, the sense of familiarity but equal sense of strangeness. There was so much that they had to catch up on, and even though only a year had passed, they were seven years older and feeling every second of it.
"Ready?" Ethan asked as they walked towards the Captain's ready room door. Rojer just nodded and reached up to press the chime.
"Come!" came the voice from within. Duncan put down the PADD and stood up, straightened his tunic and drew a sharp breath, then positioned himself next to the desk, open towards the room's entrance.
The door opened at the voice and the two men entered. The SEC folks made to follow in, but turned on their heels upon seeing a pointed finger and a shake of the head from Foyle. After the door slid shut, he smiled and stepped forward, shaking both men's hand. Rojer smiled his greeting and Ethan nodded. "Captain, thank you for rescuing us, even though it wasn't on your itinerary." His eye caught the PADD and knew what it was without having to see the screen. "We really appreciate it, the vacation was getting... tedious." Ethan just snorted his amusement, lightly shaking his head.
"You're most welcome aboard, gentlemen." Duncan gestured at the guest chairs and walked rowards the replicator himself. "Given the current state of affairs, I'm sure a lot of people would love a hideout vacation like that. With the liberty to return at will, ofcourse." Both men smiled at the caveat. "Very true, Captain," Ethan replied as they both took a seat. "Also, some more comforts and amenities wouldn't have been amiss." Foyle activated the input panel and ordered a hot cocoa. "Can I get you anything?" Like two gleeful children their eyes lit up. "Coffee," they said as one, and shared a smile.
After getting settled with their beverages, Rojer took the lead again. "Captain, have you reported our return to SFC yet?"
While sitting down, Foyle glanced at the PADD. "No, I haven't." He carefully sipped his own hot drink. "I mean, I would really like to get those M.I.A. marks off your files, but I wanted to hear you first. How you two see your renewed future, to be specific." Again the almost telepathic look between the two men. "Captain, we've had many conversations about this, and as always, we will go where Starfleet Command sends us," Ethan replied for them. Rojer nodded his agreement and continued, "With that said, knowing there are so many of our former crew on board, it would be nice to remain with the Zorya, given your agreement." He shrugged. "Last thing I want to do is be a hindrance because I used to command them, and now Joanne is the one in that position." Rojer gave a wry smile.
"Frankly Captain, I don't know how we can be of use other than... doing what you want or need us to do?" The Captain nodded and brought a hand to his chin, glanced down at the PADD and took a pensive moment.
"I've been reading your files. They are most impressive, I must say." He leaned back in the chair, "Admiral Sheedy will want to grab any decently ranked and experienced folks she can find and put them om a ship of their own. I mean, that's how I got to sit here after all, sort of." Another moment of pause, then he looked directly at Rojer and Ethan. "On the other hand... I do need a Commander and a Second for the flight wing, actually. That's a seat in the flight hangar operations centre and one at the dedicated bridge console. You've got combined experience in command, operations, navigation and engineering."
At the mention of the Admiral and what she was likely to do, Rojer felt... apprehension, but as the Captain continued to talk, he started smiling. "Captain, you're a devious man, and I think you've hit on an elegant solution." He glanced at Ethan who nodded. "If your proposal is acceptable to Command, then we will most assuredly accept your offer." Ethan looked positively gleeful at the idea of the flight ops centre around him, but Rojer already had thoughts of them rotating between the two positions, with him probably on the bridge most of the time.
Duncan briefly returned the smile, happy about the men's obvious eagerness. They sure were tired of being on vacation, it seemed. Looking to recover some sense of purpose, or usefulness in their lives, he felt. "Alright, I'll try and get Sheedy to agree on that. Presently, as we're out of 'base for now... consider yourselves hired, gentlemen."
Ethan let Rojer respond for the both of them, something they had always done in command structures. “Thank you, sir,” Rojer replied. “We will begin to get acquainted with the positions and responsibilities attached thereto.”
With another brief smile, Foyle rose from his chair, tugged his uniform tunic into shape and nodded. He extended his hand for the commanders to shake. "Welcome to the Zorya."
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Post by Einar on Sept 30, 2018 15:58:15 GMT
ohh I like this
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Post by aoibheni on Oct 1, 2018 18:08:51 GMT
"They sure were tired of being on vacation" Let's try to cure that tiredness as fast as possible, shall we...?
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