One Big Happy Cluster

Posted on Mon Dec 24th, 2012 @ 5:23pm by Lieutenant Sngarlassanarn & Lieutenant Three of Seven

Mission: Funzone
Location: Main Engineering
Timeline: Immediately after "Shave and a Haircut..."

Snarl had found his way to Engineering. A Crewman in gold, spying the carryall and the blue uniform, probably figured that Snarl was lost. "Can I help you sir?"

"Looking for Three of Seven."

The Crewman pointed towards the warp core. "I last saw him thataway sir. Can't miss him. Just look for the metal around the eye.

Snarl shook his head, and headed off in the indicated direction. About twenty steps later, across Engineering, he bumped into a short humanoid in a yellow uniform. Metal around the eye. Must be a Borg implant. "Uh... Three of Seven?"

As his body, both versions actually, had been designed around the premise of proportionally corresponding to the cranial fragment that was the last vestige of whoever Three had been in life - or, at least, in possession of a humanoid body - Three was accustomed to having to look up when addressing or being addressed by someone.

In this particular case however, the drone discovered that he had to look a little higher up than was normal.

As his visual processors began sorting the details, Three was appearing to politely turn to face the lieutenant addressing him. The immediate possibilities were Caitian or L'Diran, though the drone quickly eliminated the former as an option given the body shape, facial structure, and pigmentation. "Species 5649. You must be Lieutenant Sngarlassanarn," the Borg supplied simplistically, articulating the felinoid name with a fair approximation atypical of humanoids. But then, while Three appeared to speak in a humanoid fashion, he was infact making use of a vocal synthesizer discretely embedded above the back of his throat.

Switching cognitive processes so that he was thinking as appropriate for an acting First Officer, rather than the ship's mechanic, the drone began compiling a list of necessary 'check-in' items relative to new arrivals. "Welcome aboard the Arizona, Lieutenant," the drone began. "Our medical facilities are located on Deck 7, to include your office. Personal quarters have also been set aside for your use. How may I direct you from here, sir?"

Snarl smiled a bit. "For starters, you can fill me in a little. Why is the Captain in the brig? And when do we expect him to be released? Or... don't we?" The doctor had never been this close to a "de-assimilated" Borg before. He had so many questions he wanted to ask. But, he hadn't hand a chance to skim Three's medical file yet, so the scientific curiosity would wait.

Logical discussion points, all, given the state of the vessel. Each nearly requiring a full briefing in their own right. "Captain Haverson was ordered to the brig by Admiral Nathan Cowell, Starfleet Chief of Staff, for violations of the Code, articles ninety-two, one-ten, one-thirty-three, and one-thirty-four. He is to remain in physical custody pending the convening of a Article Thirty-Two investigation, which will determine his continued confinement and referral of the matter to a proper tribunal forum," the drone supplied succinctly.

After a moment's pause, the drone inquired, "Is there any additional information on the subject that you would care to discuss? Or may I show you to the infirmary, Lieutenant?"

"I think I can find my own way, Lieutenant. No need to drag you away from your duties. Just one last question... who's in command right now? Do we have a CO to report to? Or are we all on our own in one big happy clusterfuck?"

Three could only blink. "I am unfamiliar with... clusterfuck; however, Admiral Cowell is presently in command of the starship Arizona, Lieutenant," the drone related finally.

"One of these days, I'll explain some of the finer points of cursing to you. I'm lucky, I spent my time in the ranks." Snarl grinned a toothy grin. "Thank you. I'll go find the Admiral and report in to him then. Pleasure meeting you."

The Borg politely inclined his head to the L'Diran, watching as the massive, white-furred felinoid turned and gracefully moved through the corridors. Admiral Cowell would like Lieutenant Snglarlassanarn, the drone surmised.

As conversational traits went, the two had much in common from what Three could tell.