The More Things Change...

Posted on Fri Nov 4th, 2011 @ 8:23am by Lieutenant Jasad Broca
Edited on on Fri Nov 4th, 2011 @ 8:27am

Mission: These are the voyages...
Location: Conference Room 3
Timeline: After Meet the New Boss...

Jasad sat at the head of a long table in Conference Room 3. The Sovereign class USS Arizona was a rather voluminous vessel. Only the Galaxy class was on a similar scale, and it was easy to make comparisons between the two designs. While technically not as large as the Galaxy class, the Sovereign wasn't saddled with the requirement of extensive civilian accommodations. She was leaner and meaner than the former Federation Flagship, but her facilities were by no means insufficient.

Conference Room 3 was one of six such rooms able to accommodate up to sixteen officers at a single table. These rooms could be scheduled for use by any department or special project team. The conference rooms were far from the only meeting places available on the ship. Other, more lavish 'Diplomatic' rooms existed that could accommodate three-dozen people for special functions. Never mind the ship's food and drink lounges, some of which could comfortably serve over sixty individuals.

And even with all that, the Sovereign managed to have less 'wasted space' than a Galaxy class ship. In fact, the Galaxy's problem of wasted space was so widely recognized that during the Dominion War, several Galaxy class ships had been pressed into service with multiple whole decks left unfinished and empty. Their crews rarely noticed the lack, and the inactive decks meant power could be shunted from environmental systems to tactical uses. Nowadays, the Galaxies were all properly fitted again, with all their proper cavernous redundancies. Jasad preferred a more efficient design philosophy... and a lower profile presented to enemy ships.

"Thank you all for coming," Jasad said. "It will be my honor to serve as the Ops department head. I have been looking over everyone's records, and I see that we will be benefitting from some of the most skilled and experienced officers in the fleet. You should all have your primary duties outlined on your PADDs. I've taken the liberty of assigning primary areas of responsibility to each of you based on your certifications and past experience."

"To sum-up, if his transfer orders come through, Lieutenant Kohl will have second-shift bridge duty during non-alert conditions. During alert conditions, he will be field-manager for all other Ops elements. This means he will float to where the action is and provide direction as needed in order to facilitate any damage control or resource allocation efforts. Kohl will also be the primary field liaison between Ops and Engineering, and Ops and Medical. In the event that Kohl is diverted to another ship or department, his role will fall to Harkness."

"Ensign Harkness will take third shift, and Ensign Duplox will be swing-shift relief. Duplox has served on a Sovereign class ship before, so he will also be our Subject Matter Expert. If anyone has any questions about technology or procedures unique to the Sovereign class, Duplox is the one to ask. Everyone else, your zones are outlined for you. You are all officers of some experience. I trust none of you will need any hand-holding. Any questions?"

Harkness raised a hand.

"Yes, Ensign," Jasad nodded towards the woman.

She looked him square in the eye, her hazel eyes hard. "Who should I see about requesting a transfer?"

"I'm not sure I get your meaning, Ensign," Jasad said, his voice at once sounding tired and firm, "you've already received a transfer. You're here."

"Yes," Harkness said, "but I didn't realize I'd be working under a Spoonhead."

Spoonhead? Really? He hadn't heard the term in nearly a year. But she wasn't done yet.

She stood up. Her face was a mask of indignation framed by strands of raven black, "My father served on the-"

Jasad held up his hand, "Hold it right there, Ensign. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't care. I don't care if Cardassians raped your mother, killed your father, sold your brothers and sisters into slavery, or dissected your children and ate their livers. I've already been through the whole 'apologizing for my species' thing. It gets old quickly. I've come too far, and spilled too much blood in this service, to have to answer to the likes of you. If you have a problem with the shape of my face or the ridges on my neck, make an appointment to see a counselor."

He looked around the table, "Anyone else?"

Silence.

"Dismissed."