Posted Feb. 24, 2021, 4:36 p.m. by Captain Elijah 'Eli' Carmichael III (Captain) (J Ridgley)
Posted by Commander Paul ‘Doc’ Hudson (Chief Medical Officer) in Viewing the new ship (anybody else?)
Posted by Rear Admiral CockRoach (GM) in Viewing the new ship (anybody else?)
[snip]Kohana had appropriated one of the Sentinel’s shuttle craft once she had docked at Station K-5. The new Independence class Sentinel had docked a day earlier and and the Chief Flight Officer wanted to get a good look at his new ride.
He piloted the shuttle back and forth across her beam, length, and height. All 12 decks showed in shiny new magnificence.
The ship’s helmsman gave a soft whistle as the shuttle came up from below the hull and saw USS Sentinel emblazoned across the top of the saucer section.
He was going to miss the old ship, as he had been with her since her shakedown cruise, but was looking forward to getting to know the new Sentinel’s quirks and personality. He was sure that it wouldn’t take long before the Independence class frigate and he were best friends. . . .
SCPO Black Wolf (helm)
Charles Fordham, Ford to those who know him, stood in the observation deck on the core of Deep Space Station K-5, watching a shuttle fly around a ship on one of the docking arms of the station. He had one arm over his head, leaned against the support strut beside the porthole, and he’d been staring at the same ship for several minutes.
Whoever that pilot is, they’re good. That’s a close, tight spiral. Closer than a standard inspection. Interesting. He filed that away.
His eyes swept from the shuttle to the sleek lines of the Sentinel, his home beginning tomorrow. He’d already reviewed her specs several times, but seeing her in person was completely different. It inspired a sense of awe, a sense of camaraderie he wasn’t expecting. With a ship? They don’t call them ladies for nothin’, he thought.
“Don’t worry, pretty lady,” Ford said softly. “I’ll keep you safe.”
COS Ford
“Hmmmphh.” A voice said behind the security chief. “You had better. I don’t want to be patching people up on the new ship before we’ve even gotten our feet wet out of space port.”
A dark haired man in the short sleeved tunic variety of a blue medical uniform came to stand by Ford and watched the shuttle. He had a slightly weathered look and bushy eyebrows which were pulled down into a frown. A large moustache twitched as he added.
“Damn kids and their reckless behaviour.” He muttered.
Doc Hudson
Ford stood upright, pulling his arm from the wall as he turned to the speaker. He looked back to the shuttle as it did another loop about the ship. “They seem to be pretty good at it,” he noted, before he extended his hand. “Charles Fordham. Just call me Ford. I’m the new chief of security. You must be Doctor Hudson. I’ll try to keep her - and the crew - in one piece for you.”
Paul uncrossed his arms and took the offered hand in his own. “They just call me Doc.” He shook it firmly and released it.
“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” he added, nodding out the window. He looked at the lines of the hull, again fascinated by the connection he already felt with this inanimate object.
COS Ford
“Oh yeah.” He agreed somewhat bitterly. “ They always are. Until there not. Never get attached to a machine son. Just a random bucket of bolts that’ll keep you alive one minute and be the cause of your injuries the next. Get attached to the people instead.” He grummbled.
Just as the crew was discussing things a ship wide and station wide announcement came out =/\= Attention all off duty ship personnel and station personnel. There will be a full scale showing of ‘Idaho Potatoes: Demystified’ today in the station’s rec hall at 0100 hours! Come see the mystery of the potato demystified inglorious 3D color and imagery! =/\= It said in a cheery tone.
Paul looked heavenward as if the voice were about him. “What on…” he muttered
Doc Hudson
From behind the doctor, Eli stepped onto the observation deck, the idea of a showing of ‘Idaho Potatoes’ certainly seemed interesting and maybe a good chance to meet the crew of his new ship. He noticed to the officer over by the main viewing platform and recognised at least one form the personnel files his Yeoman had shown him. Sucking in a breath he paced towards them, “Commander Hudson correct?” He held out his hand to the man who would be his chief medical officer. The Captain was wearing his fresh new uniform, also courtesy of his yeoman and his hair for a change was combed though his 9 o’clock shadow still refusing to budge. His accent heavily swayed towards a Southern British slur which was a mix between old English and Wiltshire farmer, the county he was born.
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