The door to Alex's room gave a susurrant whoosh as it closed. She wished it had more leeway to its motors, more of a clang instead of a quiet "sshhhh-clik!" upon latching, because she felt like volume would emphasize her mood. Wishing, and imagining it:
She was not useless--button-press, satisfying "BAM!"--was not temperamental--buttons keyed twice to roughly open and close the door, the smack of metal on metal suiting better than a girlish growl that echoed through the ship's innards--was NOT going to let the situation and her thoughtless employers, or him, get to her--and finally, once more...button pressing with feeling.
Wondering how much effort it would take to modify the entryway thusly, Alex shuffled to the foot of her bed and withdrew her gear from the box. It had a rhythm to it, a familiarity that calmed as much as fixing and a job well done. Much safer than dismantling the mechanisms set into the walls of her room. Again. She'd already done a number on security measures. Though. The mental exercise had been helpful. She withdrew her datapad from the small cache of supplies, checked over her job listings. It seemed like there were an overabundance of them in the vehicle bay. Her favorite kind of work, to be sure, but...
None of them were on first shift. It was odd, and would screw up the timing on her intel retrieval. Unless, perhaps, she had another explanation other than maintenance to explain her appearance in the area. If she made do with a different cover.
Alex rolled her eyes. Right. Getting caught so soon, it'd be like they couldn't keep their hands off one another. They'd just boarded the fraggin' ship. Meeting without even working a single shift would be like a red flag to the higher-ups, right? But no work and no way to slip by the unsecure pad's dead drop also meant she was left with nothing to do, and Alex did not merely twiddle her thumbs. Boredom, she suspected, would not be an acceptable excuse on Charles' radar...especially when he'd secured her promise not to poke into things without letting him know.
Her fingers shoved two slightly different spanners aside to retrieve the codes. Punching them into the datapad, she swept the frequencies alongside the general Engineering comm. Typical traffic, some folks asking why they'd been swapped. Instantly, Alex sent in her own query and simultaneously put her name on the grid for assignments. She'd dropped her cover around Charles, and the fact she hadn't sent a demand for information like a typical crewmate onboard meant it was taking too long to slide back into her role. Kicking herself for the failure, she frowned. Forget wasting time on a rendezvous. She'd catch the datapad on a later shift if she could, better served between shifts by getting her head straight, right here in this room. If they lost those few hours of data, it would be disappointing, but it wasn't a big deal. The primary effect of seeing the full breadth of security measures would still be achieved, and Charles was on it moving forward.
Setting up her media player/secure comm to pick up the new channels too, she then popped the piece of paper into the waste disposal. There, it'd be disintegrated like all of the other waste onboard, recycled and regurgitated as some sort of cleaning solution. Or water. Or food. It really was best one didn't think about these things. Alex slid onto the bed. Pushing a button on the side of the ingeniously deceptive bit of Agency gear, she plucked the earbuds out of the exposed compartment and put them on while she stretched out, her datapad on alert for work pings.
Top 100 beats settled into her ears. Popular on this station, apparently, was an endless remix of some operatic number, soprano arias set to an electronic sizzle, the language definitely not Standard. Alex sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to sink into her role. Mechanic, good work but not too good, pleasant enough face to make in-room visits when on-call. In a...mature...relationship with a security officer.
She grimaced.
Having a fling with a security officer, maybe?
What exactly were they supposed to be to one another? She'd be best off asking, rather than assuming one and behaving out of character from what he'd intended.
Four taps interrupted the station feed, cutting into the opera like an insistent, steady knock.
It took a moment for her to recognize it, because the opera was already so disjointed, but she sent a quick 4-tone tap of her own when she switched over to the feed.
"Would you say we're "going steady", or did we get in a quick romp on-station and just want more of that action while we're on board?" she asked, by way of greeting.
She was not useless--button-press, satisfying "BAM!"--was not temperamental--buttons keyed twice to roughly open and close the door, the smack of metal on metal suiting better than a girlish growl that echoed through the ship's innards--was NOT going to let the situation and her thoughtless employers, or him, get to her--and finally, once more...button pressing with feeling.
Wondering how much effort it would take to modify the entryway thusly, Alex shuffled to the foot of her bed and withdrew her gear from the box. It had a rhythm to it, a familiarity that calmed as much as fixing and a job well done. Much safer than dismantling the mechanisms set into the walls of her room. Again. She'd already done a number on security measures. Though. The mental exercise had been helpful. She withdrew her datapad from the small cache of supplies, checked over her job listings. It seemed like there were an overabundance of them in the vehicle bay. Her favorite kind of work, to be sure, but...
None of them were on first shift. It was odd, and would screw up the timing on her intel retrieval. Unless, perhaps, she had another explanation other than maintenance to explain her appearance in the area. If she made do with a different cover.
Alex rolled her eyes. Right. Getting caught so soon, it'd be like they couldn't keep their hands off one another. They'd just boarded the fraggin' ship. Meeting without even working a single shift would be like a red flag to the higher-ups, right? But no work and no way to slip by the unsecure pad's dead drop also meant she was left with nothing to do, and Alex did not merely twiddle her thumbs. Boredom, she suspected, would not be an acceptable excuse on Charles' radar...especially when he'd secured her promise not to poke into things without letting him know.
Her fingers shoved two slightly different spanners aside to retrieve the codes. Punching them into the datapad, she swept the frequencies alongside the general Engineering comm. Typical traffic, some folks asking why they'd been swapped. Instantly, Alex sent in her own query and simultaneously put her name on the grid for assignments. She'd dropped her cover around Charles, and the fact she hadn't sent a demand for information like a typical crewmate onboard meant it was taking too long to slide back into her role. Kicking herself for the failure, she frowned. Forget wasting time on a rendezvous. She'd catch the datapad on a later shift if she could, better served between shifts by getting her head straight, right here in this room. If they lost those few hours of data, it would be disappointing, but it wasn't a big deal. The primary effect of seeing the full breadth of security measures would still be achieved, and Charles was on it moving forward.
Setting up her media player/secure comm to pick up the new channels too, she then popped the piece of paper into the waste disposal. There, it'd be disintegrated like all of the other waste onboard, recycled and regurgitated as some sort of cleaning solution. Or water. Or food. It really was best one didn't think about these things. Alex slid onto the bed. Pushing a button on the side of the ingeniously deceptive bit of Agency gear, she plucked the earbuds out of the exposed compartment and put them on while she stretched out, her datapad on alert for work pings.
Top 100 beats settled into her ears. Popular on this station, apparently, was an endless remix of some operatic number, soprano arias set to an electronic sizzle, the language definitely not Standard. Alex sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to sink into her role. Mechanic, good work but not too good, pleasant enough face to make in-room visits when on-call. In a...mature...relationship with a security officer.
She grimaced.
Having a fling with a security officer, maybe?
What exactly were they supposed to be to one another? She'd be best off asking, rather than assuming one and behaving out of character from what he'd intended.
Four taps interrupted the station feed, cutting into the opera like an insistent, steady knock.
It took a moment for her to recognize it, because the opera was already so disjointed, but she sent a quick 4-tone tap of her own when she switched over to the feed.
"Would you say we're "going steady", or did we get in a quick romp on-station and just want more of that action while we're on board?" she asked, by way of greeting.
Dreams come in a size too big so we can grow into them.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Impulse Control [Dani & Dark, Closed] - by danixiewrites - 11-13-2014, 08:15 PM
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Impulse Control [Dani & Dark, Closed] - by danixiewrites - 11-19-2014, 01:25 PM
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