east
Supernova
- Joined
- Mar 17, 2012
Being a Captain of a Starship was supposed to have unspoken rules. Captains don't use the cafeteria for one, they are supposed to be lone isolated creatures that project power and demand obedience with shoulders held high. After ordering a skeleton crew on double shifts, and sitting in the captain's chair for 6 hours, making decisions, and orders from on high for a ship he had yet to fully explore or understand. Nellis was tired, he was not the power-projecting captain he should have been, and he found himself tired, and yawning standing in one of the ship's cafeterias arguing with a broken replicator.
"Cola, cold." He took a sip, finding the drink was both scalding, and also had the distinct aftertaste of diet sweetener. He punched the replicator, repeated the order, and got a similar result. He leaned into the replicator for a moment. Glaring, and whispered into the computer trying his best to keep his voice low and soft. "If you will not give me what I want... I will activate the ship's self-destruct, and take you and every cursed replicator on this ship with me to hell."
The replicator sat in the wall's outcome, not giving out its soft secrets. "can you at least do an ice cream, french vanilla?" He watched as what manifested, was melted white goop. "Of course not." The replicators were not priority systems, his engineering staff were already overworked, he chewed his lip for a moment.
An hour had passed, and Nellis now had a schematic in one hand, the captain of a starship was knee-deep in the internal components of a replicator. He kept telling himself this was supposed to be as simple as a home repair. He had definitely fixed a food replicator back at the academy at least once, and what difference was there between the antiquated and ancient replicators of a Starfleet dormitory and the most advanced ship in the fleet? Except the cruel joke was that his ship wasn't the most advanced in the fleet, it was a half-built monstrous thing that existed with a wing and a prayer.
He tweaked something and was immediately greeted with the distinct smell of burning and a shower of sparks that made his hand go a little numb. His uniform had dark reflective splatters of liquid that while not being Oil definitely smelled and had the purpose of Oil. "You overgrown, over-complicated toaster!"
"Cola, cold." He took a sip, finding the drink was both scalding, and also had the distinct aftertaste of diet sweetener. He punched the replicator, repeated the order, and got a similar result. He leaned into the replicator for a moment. Glaring, and whispered into the computer trying his best to keep his voice low and soft. "If you will not give me what I want... I will activate the ship's self-destruct, and take you and every cursed replicator on this ship with me to hell."
The replicator sat in the wall's outcome, not giving out its soft secrets. "can you at least do an ice cream, french vanilla?" He watched as what manifested, was melted white goop. "Of course not." The replicators were not priority systems, his engineering staff were already overworked, he chewed his lip for a moment.
An hour had passed, and Nellis now had a schematic in one hand, the captain of a starship was knee-deep in the internal components of a replicator. He kept telling himself this was supposed to be as simple as a home repair. He had definitely fixed a food replicator back at the academy at least once, and what difference was there between the antiquated and ancient replicators of a Starfleet dormitory and the most advanced ship in the fleet? Except the cruel joke was that his ship wasn't the most advanced in the fleet, it was a half-built monstrous thing that existed with a wing and a prayer.
He tweaked something and was immediately greeted with the distinct smell of burning and a shower of sparks that made his hand go a little numb. His uniform had dark reflective splatters of liquid that while not being Oil definitely smelled and had the purpose of Oil. "You overgrown, over-complicated toaster!"