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SD241901.06 - Joint Duty Log - CO & COPS - "Operations And operations"

Posted on Thu Feb 7th, 2019 @ 9:51pm by Lieutenant Commander Halcyon Attixx & Brigadier General Jonathan Grey

1,861 words; about a 9 minute read

Mission: The Sincerest Form of Flattery
Location: Versailles
Timeline: Current

=^= Versailles CO's Office =^=

The inside of the dome was lit up in all its splendour, showing a view of space beyond the apex of the station. While the dome was actually buried deep within multiple shells of armour plating, holographic wizardry had been employed to make it seem as if those inside the dome were standing in a massive bubble of glass; staring out into the twinkling void of space.

This amazing view had interested the General for the first few hours, but now he just found it a distraction. Plus, he was sure people were performing deliberately-close flybys past the receiver array at the tip of the station. It was proving difficult to focus on his work when a bright flash of nacelle-blue would illuminate the room every few minutes.

The rest of the room was utterly empty, and this was beginning to get on the General's nerves too. The room's furniture rose from the floor when it was needed, and retracted back into the ground when he was done with it. That was the theory anyway, as the large, circular table in the middle of the room had been left in place mainly to break up the empty monotony of the space.

He was thinking of getting a dog, or perhaps a cat. Something to make the room less empty.

As if hearing his thoughts, a bright light appeared in the empty space in the middle of the circular table. A chunk of the table sunk into the ground as an officer rose into view, allowing the newcomer egress from the ring of oak.

"Hi." said the General, raising a hand in welcome as he turned away from the wall of the dome.

Halcyon saw the hand from the corner of his eye as he studied the where he came from and tried to figure out how it happened and then at the table (almost) surrounding him, then up at the ‘dome’ of space, then finally at the officer who’d waved at him, “Hiya.” He said half-absently, then a second and a half later remembered to add, “Sir. Now, that’s what you call an entrance... Rather power-intensive, I presume?” He waved that off with a quick swipe of his hand, “Sorry, sir, Lieutenant Attixx reporting. Lieutenant Commander, I mean, sir.”

"Relax Commander. Have a drink." the General replied, gesturing to one of the replicator pads built into the wooden table that encircled his new Chief of Operations.

Stepping towards the man, the General casually waved his hand in the air. Some clever sensor picked up the movement and a small column shot up from the floor, halting at hand-height. Barely looking, the General thumbed the top of the column and a swirl of lights conjured a cup of tea into existence. Once the cup had been lifted clear, the column vanished into the floor once more.

This smooth process gave no hint to the way he'd practiced this very thing earlier in the day, and been sent flying by the top of the column rising from underfoot. One of the downsides to hiding all your furniture in the floor, he mused as he sipped his tea.

Halcyon took the two steps necessary to get to one of the more conventional replicator pads rather than attempt to use the column that the Brigadier had just demonstrated the use of, "Coffee, Jamaican, light and sweet." He spoke clearly, moments later picking up the cup that appeared on the pad after a bare glow, "Most definitely an interesting place, sir." He commented again, "Rank hath it's privileges?"

"It's a gilded cage. Every time I step out the door, someone tries to kill me. So; no, not really. I'm getting a bed installed in here to make things easier for my bodyguards." the General replied, matter-of-fact. He walked towards the gap in the circular table and took a deeper draught of the tea in his oversized cup, swallowing some tea leaves in the process.

"Urgh, why do we even replicate the tea leaves at all?" he added bitterly, depositing the cup on the same replicator pad that the Commander had used, and quietly tried to swallow the worst of the bitter leaves.

Snorting laughter that he brought under control quickly, Halcyon managed to keep from spilling his coffee and hid his smile behind it, "Because we don't use the proper filters?" He suggested, "The default setting says to make it the traditional way, which includes the random tea leaves that escape the 'tea ball' used to brew it, or if it was brewed with purely loose tea leaves. It's really just a quick fix to set your personal filter settings to remove the extraneous 'randoms' from your orders." He waved towards the replicator, "I could do that for you easily."

The Ops officer sighed, "Sir, I've heard rumors that this posting is sketchy. Overstressed resources basically everywhere on board? I'm not one to use that sort of thing as an excuse, but if you'll be straight with me, sir, how bad is it, really?"

"Other than my bodyguards, who thrive on this nonsense, I wouldn't say people are stressed. Busy, yes. But not stressed." the General assured the new officer, while pushing a button on the replicator pad. "Tea. Hot. No leaves."

Another swirl of lights later, and a cup of tea appeared. The General raised it to his lips and took a tentative sip, holding it in his mouth for a moment for it to cool, before swallowing.

"Mmm. Anyway, things are busy, but nobody has died, and the Klingon fleet seems to be holding their distance from the station. Their interview groups and R&R parties seem to be keeping to themselves, for the most part, and even the arguments have been resolved with minimal bloodshed."

"Minimal bloodshed..." Halcyon repeated, not sure whether to be grateful that it was just that, minimal, but that there was the potential for a flareup that could really be bad. But that was probably more a security issue than his, "How is the supply situation? I mean, I could find that out myself easily enough, sir, but I've always preferred hearing straight from the horse's mouth so I can get an alternative point of view from what I do actually discover."

At this, the General gave the Commander a look.

"We are doing just fine for supplies." he said, eventually, "Plenty of antimatter, enough food to feed everyone, and we're making sure there's enough for tomorrow as well. You may notice some brown-outs in civilian areas, and the food might be nutrient paste from local farms to spare the replicators." he mentioned, tea still steaming in his hands.

The calculations running through Hal's head. Plenty of antimatter, but power problems enough to cause shortages... Enough food to feed everyone, but mostly nutrient paste, which had to be bad for morale. Not a good formula overall, but he found himself nodding slowly, because this would be a challenge, "We can work with that, sir. It really is part of my job to make sure the supply chain functions.. Since we're out on the edge, what are our funding resources and incomes? I'm sure we can supplement some of our needs if the income is sufficient."

"Our funding, such as it is, is a stockpile of Latinum that we're burning through at a fair clip." the General admitted, taking a seat around the large table and gesturing for his guest to do the same.

"I'm certain we're getting overcharged, but with all the Klingons sitting in our doorstep, we're lucky to get any supplies in at all. Feel free to try and haggle that down, but remember; better a bad deal than no deal. Right now, we cannot afford to have the food stop flowing in." said the General, pursing his lips at the thought of some of the traders he'd had to appease recently. Versailles was getting completely fleeced, but right now plan B was asking the Klingons to share the Gagh, so...

"In any event, I've tasked our new Chief of Science with looking into resolving our little food crisis, so you may want to speak with her before shaking our suppliers too hard." the General advised, taking a sip of his tea to give the Commander a chance to speak.

"Don't worry, sir, I won't queer the deal..." Halcyon's eyes half-glazed over as he brought the coffee to his lips but didn't take a drink. Oh, he thought he was, but he was too distracted as his brain took a detour through the specifications of the starbase, then determined he was going to have to spend the next few days doing a detailed, a VERY detailed examination of everything the base had to offer. Funding was a problem? Okay. Being gouged on prices? All well and good. Threat of being cut off if he negotiated too hard? He could deal with that. The question was: How?

He stayed like that for several seconds, his cup tilted and the coffee dribbling out the edges and dripping onto his uniform before he 'finished his drink' and placed it down on the table in front of them, completely unaware of the spillage, I'll definitely have a talk with Tor- With Commander Jesson. There's a way we can reduce our demand for external food supplies, I'm sure, and if I can have a few days, I may just quite possibly come up with a few ideas I'll want to bounce off of you to help reduce the resource strain." Hal paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow, "Or would you like me to just 'take care of it' on my own as an experiment to see how it works?"

"You don't need my permission at every step." replied the General, finishing his tea. "Just keep my Yeoman in the loop, and try cutting your teeth on the solo traders before you try your hand at the larger trading consortiums. I'd rather loose one shipful of cabbage than a fleet of them."

While he talked, the General wondered about his new Chief of Operations. Between the man's apparent ties to the sordid underbelly of Versailles' rumour mill shortly after arriving, to the glazed expression and the dribbling, it was clear that serious questions needed to be asked.

"Be sure to have your physical before you get started." the General added. "With all of these people on the station, it's a small miracle we haven't had an outbreak of something yet, and I want to keep it that way. Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir, and I'll go see the sawbones later today, I promise." Halcyon stood up, then stopped as he realized that his front was wet, but continued on with barely a pause, making it seem like nothing had happened, "And I'll catch up with your yeoman as soon as I have something." He came to a brief attention, "Now... How to get out of here..." He muttered, turning around and looking back at the console he'd come through.

=^= End of Log =^=

Brigadier General Jonathan Grey
Commanding Officer


Lieutenant Commander Halcyon Attixx
Chief Operations Officer


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