Posted Sept. 30, 2021, 10:31 p.m. by Ensign Quinn Dagget (Helmsman) (Riley W)
Posted by Ensign Kovan ch’Sirhc (Engineering & Communications Officer) in Side Sim - The Graveyard Shift
Posted by Ensign Quinn Dagget (Helmsman) in Side Sim - The Graveyard Shift
Posted by Ensign Kovan ch’Sirhc (Engineering & Communications Officer) in Side Sim - The Graveyard Shift
Posted by… suppressed (5) by the Post Ghost! 👻
Quinn stared at the starfield as they journeyed through the late night. Everyone on helm had one or two graveyard shifts each week, and tonight was her lucky night. It kinda sucked. Why did someone even have to be up here? She supposed it was just in case they encountered an alien ship or something. After all, not everyone ran on Earth Greenwich time.Quinn, Helm
The “graveyard” shift. A strange way to describe the shift where most crewmen were asleep. This was space. Day and night meant nothing. Ships had “day” and “night” for the benefit of their crew who were accustomed to the diurnal and nocturnal cycles. The shift was the same as any other, but his fellow comm officers often complained endlessly when it came up in their shift rotations. Kovan didn’t care what shift he got, his duty was the same regardless.
He fiddled with the controls of the comm station, listening for signals or noise. Kovan didn’t mind these “graveyard” shifts but he did mind when the people on shift with him attempted to fill the silence with vapid conversation. To talk for the sake of it because there was nothing else to do. of course, the moment he thought that the ensign to the side of him asked out loud, “Think we’ll ever encounter anything on one of these shifts?” To which Kovan audibly groaned in response.
Ensign ch’Sirhc (COMMO, ENGR)
“Who knows,” Quinn replied, spinning around in her chair to look at Kovan and the NE with a wide grin on her face. Something fun to talk about. Maybe. “I’ve heard some crazy stories about things happening during the graveyard shift,” she said before spinning back around to face her console. Better to not get in trouble with any sticklers. Her mind went back to her time on the Wake. The so-called graveyard shift was her dad’s favorite time to strike, since people were less likely to be ready for a pirate vessel’s attack. The trick was figuring out what constituted the graveyard shift for the ships they chased. She smiled to herself at the memories.
Ens. Quinn Dagget, Helm
Kovan was one such “stickler for rules” however he was too busy staring at his console in disgust to notice. “That is a false equivalence. The ‘graveyard’ shift is no more or less likely for ‘crazy occurrences’ than any other shift.” The statistics proved it. Why can’t people understand that? Though, perhaps it was a bit contradictory of him to then say, “Don’t say such things unless you want them to happen.” Which, it was, but for as much as Kovan embraced science he still held a few superstitious beliefs. Life did not always make sense, and sometimes science can not explain everything. It was another false equivalence based solely upon Kovan’s personal experiences, but his experience has kept him alive thus far so he wasn’t about to change that.
Ensign ch’Sirhc (COMMO, ENGR)
“Little excitement to spice up our lives? I certainly wouldn’t be upset. I dunno, just something little like an unexpected Asteroid popping up on sensors. I mean, I think the worst part of the Late-Night shift is that everyone is usually tired and cranky.” Quinn replied, stretching out and cracking her knuckles. “And most of the crew is asleep, so we don’t even get interesting reports from engineering to listen to. Maybe we should request music or something.” Quinn chuckled, considering how much fun she could have if given control of a playlist. She loved listening to music, especially that high energy stuff they’d made in the Middle American Era. Specifically in the Late 1900s. Great stuff. Then they could throw in some Vulcan concertos, which while being devoid of emotional context, were very interesting mathematically. “I’m sure Andor has some great music we could add to the playlist, eh, Kovan?” she glanced over her shoulder, continuing her thoughts out-loud.
Ens. Quinn Dagget, Helm
“Because a collision with an asteroid would be so much fun,” Kovan answered dryly. He was not one of those tired and cranky people. His bad attitude and sarcastic remarks came from being a jerk. At the mention of music he shook his head, even while all the others were nodding along. Music was an awful idea. Too distracting and too easy for it to mask important sounds or alerts. “I’m sure it does but I’ve never been to Andor so I couldn’t tell you. And even if I could I wouldn’t have anything to recommend because I hate music.”
Ensign ch’Sirhc (COMMO, ENGR)
“I said showing up on our sensors, not in our viewscreen,” Quinn shot back. His other statement made her curious though. “Blue skin, white hair, antennae. That makes you an Andorian, doesn’t it? Shouldn’t you know some of your own culture’s music?”
Kovan shot Quinn an annoyed look. Because really? She had to go there? “Yes, because all Andorians were born on Andor and grew up listening to the same cultural songs. Only humans have multiple cultures and ethnics after all.” And yes, that was all said in his most sarcastic voice. Diadem VI was a backwater farm colony. It took years for cultural trends from Andor to reach them, and more often than not the homeworld trends were ruthlessly mocked or scorned.
Quinn glanced around, then shrugged. “I think we should have music. It can always be programmed to cut out whenever alerts or other stuff happens. And it doesn’t even have to be played loudly…”
Ens. Quinn
And Kovan, still annoyed by the stereotyping answered, “Some of us have more sensitive hearing than others. And need that hearing to do their jobs.” He ignored the others looks. Yes. He was the killjoy. And he didn’t care if they disliked him for it. They’re supposed to be Starfleet officers. They can get over it.
Ensign ch’Sirhc (COMMO, ENGR)
Quinn glared at Kovan, confused that he’d taken her comment and been so offended by it. Yeah, she’d assumed he knew some of his species’ culture, that was pretty standard…? “Dude, I wasn’t asking you for your opinion on like… Specific songs or like an overview of all Andorian music. You wouldn’t expect me to be an expert in Reggae or like… Mongolian Throat Singing, but I still know they exist despite spending my formative years on a ship hundreds of lightyears away from Earth.” She paused and looked at him intensely. This guy took everything too seriously. He was just like all these stuck-up officers. What was wrong with having a little joy? Days like these made her regret leaving the Wake.
Dagget, Helm
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