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Behind the Veil
Public Relations

Main Engineering <Deck 2> [Gibraltar Station]

Immediately as one enters main engineering, one reaches a large blast door, at least 10 meters tall and 6 across, which can be lowered during emergencies. A half-meter past this blast door is another, to provide double protection from explosions and radiation. Past these doors main engineering opens up. A large and spacious room, it is one of the larger areas aboard the base. Half-circular, with a radius of at least 20 meters, it is packed with consoles and people at peak hours. Every wall is lined with monitoring stations, with exceptions for two doors, at one o'clock and 11 o'clock relative to the main entrance. Every three or four stations, a small piece of wall juts past the console a half meter, allowing for a little bit of privacy for the worker at that console. In the center of the room is a large, glowing blue cylinder which seems to pulsate with energy. At the base of this cylinder are several consoles, as well as force-field emitters and another blast screen that can be lowered for emergencies. 8 meters inside the main blast doors is a large table, the center of which is a display screen capable of showing any number of consoles or diagrams. Surrounding the center screen are smaller consoles. The table itself is at least 3 meters long and 2 wide. The door located at the one o'clock leads into a small supply room, filled with several tools and other equipment needed for maintenance work. The door at eleven o'clock leads to the Chief Engineer's office. The lighting in the room is dim, with most illumination coming from consoles and the main reactor. Alert tracers around the consoles and along the side of each door show the station's status.

Players:
Lt Jason Turner
LCmd Mikhail Volchenkov

Jason is standing next to two crew members, bent over a work table. On the table is what looks like a mostly-finished device of some kind--a squashed dome, perhaps thirty centimeters in diameter and six or seven high. Blinking lights adorn the device, and the apex of the dome is a soft white light. He's involved in a sort of rapid-fire exchange of ideas, each of the three men chattering away at high speed. Something about phase flux and scanner interlocks.

Volchenkov steps in from the corridor outside, and looks around rather carefully for a few moments. He then starts heading over in the direction of those engineers, moving rather slowly.

Jason, perhaps noticeably, has a phaser clipped to his belt. He's got a hand on the butt of it as Volchenkov approaches--not threateningly, but it simply looks like habit. A crewman clears his throat and tilts his head toward Volchenkov, and Turner spins to face him. "Good to meet you in person, Commander!" The big engineer gives the chief of security a curt nod, sticking a hand out towards him.

Volchenkov nods, with a half-smile, "Likewise," he replies, shaking that offered hand. He then gestures towards the phaser, "Not feeling completely safe?" he asks.

Jason glances down at the phaser. "Not particularly," he says, voice rather terse. "No offense whatsoever intended to your security officers, Commander, but I've learned the hard way how sudden something can go bad in a pressure situation. Especially among civilians. Or civilians pretending to be officers." He offers a faint smirk. "Almost needed it yesterday, so my concerns weren't unjustified." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder toward a computer console. "You can check my certifications and clearances to carry on duty if you'd like, sir."

Volchenkov shakes his head a little. "No need for that. I was just a little curious," he replies, before he looks to that device. "How is the work going?"

"Basically done. The only question is how we want to handle isolation and containment." Jason folds his arms across his chest. "I'll have to consult with what little there is in the Science department, probably, as well as Medical, at some point. But since you're Security--" He shrugs, flashing a quick grin. "--I figure you'll have actual constructive suggestions."

Volchenkov shrugs a little as he hears that, keeping his attention on the device for a few moments. "How many of these will we have?" he asks, after a few moments. "Because if we only have one, it will be quite a challenge." A brief pause, and he adds, "We'll get it done, though."

"As many as I can replicate," Jason says with a chuckle. "My own suggestion would be to put a transport beacon in it. Anyone infected gets transported into a containment block and Sickbay gets notified. Short of that, I can't think of any definite ways to ensure that nobody--especially no Security officers--touches the infected and then risks infection themselves."

Volchenkov nods a bit as he hears that. "That's a good suggestion," he replies, after a few moments of pause. "It would probably help to place the devices out in areas where as many people as possible pass through," he adds, a bit thoughtfully

"Agreed. I was thinking about one in each turbolift and at the central couplings for both Starfleet and civilian quarters," Jason says, calling up an MSD of the station and highlighting the points. "Then at each docking ring where we've got ships stationed. That ought to hit everyone."

Volchenkov nods a little bit as he hears that. "Sounds quite good," he replies, with a bit of a nod. Looking back to the device, rather carefully. "How does this thing work?" he asks after a few moments, sounding quite curious.

Jason lights up at the question. "First person to ask!" he exclaims, rather gleefully. "It's basically the guts of a TR-590 medical tricorder, especially the remote scanning component. Had to boost the power and range, though. Inside's a 'dumb' computer with just enough analytical power to overlay the differences between certain afflicted personnel's 'before' and 'after' states upon the subject at hand. If they match, the computer can do...well, something. If we go with the transporter aspect of it, it'll call the station computer and tell it the biosigns to lock on, and I'll take offline Transporter Room Three to use its emitters on a dedicated basis."

Volchenkov nods a little as he hears that, "Interesting," he replies, with a bit of a shrug. "Looks like we've got a good plan about where to place them, then."

"I think so. I'll have the captain sign off on it a little later, and start putting them in place." Jason folds his arms across his chest. "Is it possible for you to give me a security detachment for twenty-four hours or so, in order to police the containment chambers? I'd also like to place a couple of security personnel on the various levels inside the station, to quell disturbances that might arise if someone gets suddenly teleported into containment."

"Of course," Volchenkov replies, nodding. He then sighs a bit, "Got a couple of things to take care of now, so if you'll excuse me?" Volchenkov nods a bit, and heads out the door again, to do whatever work is up now.

(After a short commerical break, we return to the table where Turner and his colleagues are working.)

People might be forgiven for not recognizing the blueshirt that strides into Engineering. Not because Brooks looks that much different than normal, but because she's standing straight and walking with something resembling purpose. And doesn't seem to have her glasses on. She peers around the room, PADD in hand, and finally spots who she's looking for. She heads over to the work table and clears her throat. "Lieutenant?"

"Yes?" comes the distracted voice of Jason, one eye scrunched closed as he adjusts something within the device." Jason straightens up and gestures for the crewmen to make themselves scarce. As he looks at who it is, his expression darkens a touch. "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"

Brooks holds the PADD out. "Just checking to see if you still need the Lacune team working on the project. No problem if you do. And I've brought down the engrams... I stopped by Sickbay anyhow, figured I'd make sure they get down here since the're swamped up there." She glances to the device with a curious expression.

Jason takes the PADD, his expression lightening slightly. "Thank you, Lieutenant." He sets the PADD down beside the device, tapping a few buttons to transfer the data to the device. "How bad is it up there?"

Brooks shakes her head, sighs. "It's a mess, people are panicking, they don't realize what the problem really is. We should've prepared for this earlier... not the Captain's fault, there was a lot of miscommunication down in Sciences about this. " She doesn't say whose fault it *is,* but she frowns a moment before continuing, "At any rate, it looks like the thing's... changing. Adapting, pushing people further than before, and maybe going after people it just happened not to jump to. I've been trying to think of a way to keep the definitely clean population isolated without causing a ruckus, but the 'not causing a ruckus' part is escaping me. We've got to do something though."

"I wouldn't think it the Captain's fault," Jason says dryly. He folds his arms. "This gadget'll take care of it. I just cleared it with Security, and I'll be setting them up personally. It uses the sensory components from a TR-590 medical tricorder, those--" He indicates the PADD that Brooks had given him. "--and an interlink with the station computer to transport the infected into a containment area."

Brooks nods. "The problem is, infected people are fine once they've been cleaned up. It's the people who're clean but not infected I'm worried about. Happened to someone last night... he got released from Sickbay and an hour later got infected. It'll take time to find all the infected, and they'll still be spreading it..." She shakes her head. "I'm just trying to think of something more efficient, to get this done and get the station back to normal. But whatever works, I guess, right?"

Jason looks at Brooks a bit oddly. "I'm placing these things in the turbolifts," Jason says slowly. "And on the docking ring, and in the central areas of crew quarters. There's not a single person on the station who won't hit at least one of those the first day." He doesn't say this like she's an idiot, but does explain it as if to someone painfully new.

Brooks nods in reply. "This is why I'm not an engineer. My brain always tries to make things more complicated than they need to be, and simple's usually better. Besides, I'm used to smaller places. The size can be overwhelming." She shrugs this off and moves on. "Nearly finished, then? Y'need anything else? I've got a bit of free time."

"Everything's in order," Jason rumbles, losing the lecturing tone. "Is there anything that we can do for you?" The look on his face is odd as he studies Brooks. "I realize that it can be overwhelming running a department."

Brooks sighs. "I will be glad when Alexandria and M'train get better. I've got the paperwork under control... Commander Solvek used to run a science department, so he helped out. Getting people to do what needs doing's been harder. There's... well, there's politics, and I've got a reputation for not being the most outspoken person." She shrugs. "I'll manage. I'm more worried about the long-term. The department's a mess, mainly 'cause the divisions keep bickering at each other. It's just silly. Keeping the Lacune team over here's actually kept it quiet--there were shouting matches about whose 'fault' this was." She shakes her head. "Maybe I should have Commander Ames come talk to 'em. She used to be Chief Science Officer here, so she's worked with some folks."

"Hm." Jason's expression is rather inscrutable, though his eyebrows furrow slightly. "I can keep them busy for a while if you like the peace and quiet, dragoon them into mounting the scanners as needed." He scratches at his jaw. "That, or scrub the bulkheads. Nothing's ever clean enough that it can't use a once-over." At that, he winks.

"I guess a day or two of that'd only keep 'em away from research as long as their bickering would. Shorter, maybe." Brooks sighs. "Between you, me, and the warp core, I hope Lieutenant Alexandria has some great revelation and wakes up a better person. Having your Chief act like everyone's out to get her isn't the best way to keep up morale." Brooks adds, "It's not even everyone... or even mostly everyone. Just enough to gum up the works."

"Huh." Jason glances around, lowering his voice. "Equally between you, me, and various systems--I have a feeling she's about to be replaced anyway. I was at a staff meeting earlier in the week, and...she's getting a talking-to at least."

Brooks sighs, and nods. "I hate politics," she mutters. "People's egos get in the way of things too much. But, then, I'll be happy staying right where I am forever. I guess career-building requires stepping on toes." Another shake of the head. "I really hope she's alright, though. Alexandria. In the meantime... I'll keep it together. My team's been great, and living with the XO helps. He wants to keep my hoursdown for what I'm sure are totally unselfish reasons." She rolls her eyes briefly. "But thanks, for the offer. I might take you up on mounting the scanners."

"Politics are why I have a record as long as I do," Jason growls, settling back against the table. "I avoid them. Contrary to what your friend the beerslinger says, there are ways to get reprimands without screwing up."

"I'm sure. Danley... hasn't been in the Fleet in a while. He doesn't get what a superior that dislikes you can do to your career." Brooks shakes her head. "I'm sure Alexandria thinks I'm with Solvek just to get her job, or something, from how she talks and acts. And that could be a real problem, so I try to stay the hell out of her way most of the time."

"She sounds like the kind of 'officer'--and I use the term loosely--that I slugged once," Jason observes mildly. "It's not so much 'dislike' as 'doesn't understand that pips don't make you Kirk incarnate." He glances away. "At least the Captain has a decent head on her shoulders."

Brooks mmms. "Possibly. She had a breakdown in the bar one night wherein she revealed she was jealous. Which is silly. She's vice-chair of the Omicron Institute and she's jealous of me?" She shakes her head. "Captain Hawkins is good, yes. I rather like her. Not that I've got much of a choice. She's... trustworthy. Y'know she'll make the right decisions, whether or not she'll 'look good.'"

"Titles aren't much worth the paper they're written on," Jason says, chuckling to himself. "There are crewmen who I field promoted over lieutenant commanders, during the Dominion War. So long as you can do your job, your rank is of little importance." He looks back at Brooks, an eyebrow quirking. "That's why I was a touch pointed, and the bartender there got a bit offended."

Brooks nods. "You were right. I panicked, 'cause I've never done this before, but... ain't no one else. It wasn't right of me to express all that outwardly... that's what logs are for." She shrugs. "I don't get Danley. I can't decide whether to like him or not. Feel bad for him, really, but... he does the stupidest things."

"Exactly," Jason says, no small amount of approval in his voice. "Hawkins told me a bit about you. Obviously you aren't stupid. Just show it." He glances at the device on the table. "I figure I'm gonna have twenty of these installed within six hours. Just have to get the 'go' from the Captain. Even got Volchenkov to assign me a security detail to watch them and to act as pacifiers."

Brooks nods, peering at the thing. "Good. Great. Hopefully we can get this dealt with before that damn thing pushes too many more people's buttons." She sighs. "I've got to get going... I'll send some people over to help mount the scanners, if you really do need it, and I'll be *sure* anyone who came near that object hits a turbolift as soon as possible fater that. Probably the whole department."

"I'll rig one in front of the department headquarters if you'd like," Jason offers. "I should probably do that anyway."

"Excellent idea. They handled it the most. I'm gonna re-scan myself... just to be sure... but I think if I was gonna get the damn thing I would've a while ago, with all the exposure I got." Brooks shrugs. "At any rate. Good luck."

"Thanks. Same to you." Jason turns to his department and begins shouting for a work detail.

Fore Walkway <Deck 29> [Gibraltar Station]

The Promenade is an airy, open cylinder that stretches for five decks. Around the outside of this cylinder on each deck are walkways that allow for easy foot traffic between the various establishments lining the walls. The outer wall of these walkways are paneled in light gray except where interrupted by doors and openings. Some establishments are open to the Promenade, allowing one to look inside before entering, while some merely have a door with a plaque declaring what is beyond. The inner side is bordered by a low rail. Beyond this rail one can look down at the trees of the garden below or up at the higher levels of the Promenade. The lighting on the Promenade adjusts according to the time--by day it is quite bright, dimming at around 1800 until its darkest point (though still light enough to see clearly) at midnight. From here it slowly brightens until reaching its full, daytime brightness once more at 0600. Vertical alert tracers line the doors and other openings, showing the status of the station.

Players:
LtJG Ouyang Diomed
Lt Jason Turner

As Ouyang approaches the fore walkway, it looks like a disturbance is brewing. One of the anti-contagion scanner "domes" is being attached to the ceiling here, and a crowd is gathered. Two Starfleet officers, wearing the yellow of Security, are standing near the anti-contagion device, looking decidedly antsy. Behind them is a blue-shirted Science officer and Lieutenant Turner himself, working diligently on readying the scanning device.

Ouyang pokes his head around to spot Turner, and walks slowly towards him, careful not to run into the other officers. He stands on the side of Turner and shuffles his feet to face Turner, trying to catch Turner's attention. "Sir, scanners have been successfully installed in the Promenade, throughout decks 27 to 31."

"Good," Jason says tersely. He glances toward Ouyang and nods curtly. "Lieutenant Brooks assigned you?" He slaps the shoulder of the crewman working on the scanner and turns to Ouyang. "Looks like we've attracted a bit of a crowd."

Ouyang looks around and nods in agreement with Turner. "The science department has been working around the clock since... the breach. We've just finished working with deck 31 and I was sent here to see if you would need extra help here. Although you seem to have enough hands," Ouyang comments as he looks as the other officers around Turner.

"At the moment, but..." Jason trails off, surveying the crowd. He reaches up, hitches the rifle over his shoulder. He drops his voice as he speaks to the Bajoran. "I'm surprised nobody's tried to cause problems. These things are more draconian than I'd accept."

Ouyang's head jolts a bit as he listens to Turner. He turns his head slightly left, then right, to scan around them and makes sure that the other officers are not close to them. Ouyang then looks at Turner obliquely. "What do you mean by causing problems? Why would they?"

"The things transport people without so much as a 'are you ready,'" Turner replies absently, glancing toward the crowd. They're not too happy-looking, and some very well could be militant. The security officers seem to be keeping order--for the moment.

Ouyang gasps as if some insight struck him, and nods. "Indeed, indeed. I would be rather agitated, especially if I had urgent business was was delayed by the quarantine." He pauses, and the shifts his weight uneasily. "So when do you think this... situation, will be resolved?"

"As soon as everyone infected's put through the scanners." Turner scratches at his jaw, looking out at the crowd. "They'll all be thrown in the decontamination area--we converted a cargo bay--and then we proceed to cleaning them. Once they're cleaned, the contagion should be cleaned out."

Ouyang nods. "As long as we have the source clamped down, you're right. But... we still have no idea how it got on the station, right?"

There's a distinctly less-than-happy crowd gathering around the front of an establishment. Two security officers stand outside, in front of the restless--though not yet aggressive--throng of civilians. Behind them stand Turner and Ouyang, speaking quietly, and a blueshirt is working on final installation of one of the sensor domes. "We know pretty well. That silver artifact floating around's the cause of the infection," Turner tells Ouyang. "And after it infects someone, it seems to spread by touch."

Omtala is shopping. Or at least window shopping. She's walking the corridor at a leisurely pace almost as though she really had no intention of actually entering any shop. The crowd draws attention, certainly, and she turns her attention to it though does not approach just yet. Instead, she finds a bit of free railing and leans against it.

Ouyang nods as he checks on the crowd again. "I understand that sir, but I thought we still have not been able to trace the origins of the artifact, and who sent it to the Chief..."

Jason looks out toward the crowd, shaking his head. "No idea on that part. And my name's Turner, not 'sir.'" He sighs. "This sort of thing happens, and I hate running into it. The choice is between doing something a bit heavy-handed and not doing anything effective." He folds his arms across his chest, damn near scowling. "I'm not sure how we could do it any other way on a station with civvies."

Omtala appears content to listen for the moment. To the crowd, to the fleeters, to... the ambiance of the mall area of the station. She adjusts her baldric slightly and flicks an inperceptible bit of lint from it in her idleness.

Ouyang checks on the crowd again, this time a bit larger than the last time he checked, and then sighs as he turns his head to Turner. "Indeed, what can we do? I wouldn't worry about it too much sir... Turner. I'm sure deep down inside everyone appreciates our work." He pauses and looks at the crowd again. "At least, I hope," he mutters with a hint of resignation.

"Maybe." Jason glances toward the crowd. "Alright." The blueshirt finishing up the installation of the sensor dome and conveniently makes himself scarce. Turner snaps his fingers, pointing toward the security officers. "You know what to do. Let 'em through, don't let 'em mess with the scanner."

The security officers nod and step apart, letting some of the crowd--the ones there to actually visit the establishment, one can assume--into the shop.

Omtala watches the crowd, then catches the eye of an Andorian among them. He walks over to her and they exchange a few whispered comments before he rejoins the crowd. Once he's gone, she leaves the rail and approaches Turner. "A familiar face. Having a better day are you?"

"Not particularly," Jason says shortly, tugging at the strap on the rifle over his shoulder. "Just as high-strung, just without bartenders jumping me." The scowl returns to his face as he looks out toward the crowd. "Something tells me they aren't too happy with my gadgets."

Ouyang's face becomes paler as the crowd grows larger and louder. A few moments earlier the crowd was still quiet, now Ouyang can even hear a few obscenities blurted out here and there. He turns to Turner and Omtala, "Should we be worried about this crowd?"

"It'll be a lot easier than a knife," Jason rumbles, stepping back as the Andorian moves forward into the crowd. He shifts the rifle on his shoulder, looking toward Omtala with no small amount of curiosity. He's never run into many Andorians.

A few more men and women trickle through the doorway of the shop behind the knot of Starfleet officers--and then there's a rapid beeping, and the telltale chime of an activating transporter as a human is captured in the beam. The time between the start of the beeping and the transporter? About a second and a half. Turner didn't exactly make these things to be people-friendly.

Beeping aside, Omtala doesn't break eye contact with Tagavian. The smile remains but her steely gaze is unwavering. An Andorian, the man she spoke with earlier, turns to regard the beeping and the crowd near it but its clear from his posture that he's got Omtala's 'back'.

The crowd thins a bit as people get transported. Nevertheless, a significant number of civilians remain before the shop, and Ouyang bumps into a couple of people as he follows Omtala and Turner.

Tagavian's eyes flit to Turner, to Omtala, to the Andorian with his back to him, to Omtala, then makes a lunge for her baldric. His chin snaps back with the crack of his bottom teeth snapping into the top ones and he hits the floor hard. Omtala's arm can be seen returning to her side and she's looking down at the unconscious Terran. She kneels and checks his pulse and breathing. "He'll live." She comments dryly to the security man who's come dashing over. "Assault of a Starfleet officer." She quips to him by way of charges to file. "Inciting a riot as well. He was muttering in the crowd for a good ten minutes while those two worked." She nudges her head towards Ouyang and Turner. Those antennae of hers are like radar. It's creepy.

"Didn't think that they were quite this widespread," Jason mutters to Ouyang. "Troublemakers or infected." Squinting into the crowd, he continues to murmur, though under his breath now. "Stun beam, wide-angle dispersion. Solves all problems."

Ouyang looks at Omtala with disbelief, and then at the fallen Terran. "You got to teach me how to do that."

Omtala turns to face Ouyang as the security man calls in for a pick up. "Twenty years of medical training. Thirty years of the best schooling my keth can provide. The rest comes with experience." She comments. "To be fair, I could have been more gentle but he's been asking for that. He'll think twice before manhandling a woman again. I don't have enough to see charges on him but I know..." She flexes her fist before relaxing it and smiling again. "Leave the phaser to security, lieutenant. If you want a transfer I'm sure Misha will hear you out." Her eyes flit to the engineer.

"Been there, done that." Jason looks unperturbed. "He's run my credentials, and I wear the right colors anyway." He glances at the rifle over his shoulder. "Rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it."

The crowd is silenced by Omtala's display of combat prowess. There are a few whispers here and there, but they are washed over by the shuffling of security officers and the cries of pain from the fallen civilian. "I don't think you ever need to be gentle in a situation like this. Ouyang looks around and sees that the crowd has become noticeably smaller, then turns to Turner. "Agreed, perhaps I should start carrying one myself."

Omtala regards Turner nonplussed. "That's why I'm a commander and you aren't, Mister Turner. Effective use of force is more important than the use of all available force. I'll tell you now that there's a new sop soon to be posted. Approved by the captain. You'd better stow that thing before coming to any of the station's medical facilities." She looks to Ouyang then. "No. You shouldn't. First of all, Mister Turner is a line officer and if he's cleared by Volchenkov then he's most likely a rated combat engineer. Until we're at war, there's no reason for any science branch to be walking around with a type iii."

"I was a commander, ma'am, and a damn fine one," Jason fires back. "Casualty of being better at my job than the CO was." He snorts. "At the risk of sounding insubordinate, I suggest you look at my record before making those kinds of comments. As for the medical facilities--I'll put 'em away when the quarantine is over or if I ever skin my knee." He folds his arms across his chest and glances toward Ouyang. "The commander's right, though. The rifle--I don't have any interest in using it, but it's an effective deterrent." He indicates the hand phaser at his hip. "This is as good as a rifle when on a station, and easier to handle."

Ouyang visiably notices the tension between Omtala and Turner. He rubs his forehead and looks at Omtala. "Um... right... er... so... What do you think the new S.O.P. will be concerning?"

Omtala, again, is the picture of ice calm and only her left antenna twitches at Turner's rebuke. "That any unauthorized individuals bringing a weapon into a medical facility on this station will be immediately remanded to the brig. Authorized personel include, the security officer or officers stationed at said facility, a security officer in the persuance of their duties, or an away team member present by directed transport who will immediately surrender said weapon to the security on duty. The only other people I want to see in sickbay with so much as a nail file had better have had said authorization sent to me beforehand by Command."

"Ooh, forms." Jason's tone is squealy, delightful. "I so love forms to fill out. Hopefully they're in triplicate!" He claps his hands together, keeping together the gleeful look for a moment. It's not a long moment, and he settles back against the wall with a wry smirk and a shake of the head.

Ouyang's face looks slightly distorted as he is puzzled by Omtala's remarks but trying not to show that. "I don't see how that carrying weapons into the sick bay can be an issue. Starfleet personnel with weapons don't have a reason to use them in sick bay unless it becomes a battle zone, and non-Starfleet personnel are probably seriously injured before entering sickbay." Ouyang tilts his head and looks at Omtala obliquely. "Say, does that mean officers injured in combat and dragged back to sickbay have to disarm first before coming through the front door?"

Omtala eyes Ouyang and his semanticsplay. "If we ever go to war again, I'm sure exceptions will be made. Besides, seeing as how anyone dragged back to sickbay won't be in any condition to argue with me, I'll be happy to take care of the disarming for them before saving their lives. Guns just get in the way of sutures and blood transfusions. Silly little things that way. Simply put, sickbay is not, nor ever shall be, a battle zone. One person in there will have a gun. That ought to make it real easy to deal with a troublemaker hmm?" She gives them both a look. "Here's how it is, you two. I've had far too many people with excuses to have a gun come into sickbay and draw down. I'm through with it. There are no more second chances. No more 'but I'. There are no buts anymore. You bring a weapon and aren't on the list, I have your ass on a silver platter. Is that clear?"

"That's fine," Turner says dryly. The big engineer scratches behind his ear idly. "You'll note, Commander, that the beerslinger drew down on me. The reverse is not true. The Captain dragged me down there to get a set of memory engrams from your notoriously uncooperative staff."

Ouyang puts up his hands in front of him with his palms facing Omtala in a defensive posture. "Crystal clear, sir. I'm just wondering if I'll be court-martialed if my unconscious body is dragged into sickbay with a phaser on my belt. Conversely, I am very happy that you won't turn me away from your sickbay if that happens."

Omtala rolls her eyes and relaxes her tone. "Guys, I'm not going to be an ass. If some extenuating circumstance comes up, I'll just tell you to take it out or stow it. Now if you come in just happy as can be and get snippy with me? That's something else." She shifts her hips and looks to Turner. "I know he did. You'll note all I did was tell you to take the gun outside. Danley was detained. The gun wasn't necesary. If you felt the situation wasn't under control the easy solution is go stand just outside the door. You obey the superior officer and you still keep yourself satisfied. Everyone wins. As for my notoriously uncooperative staff. Name them. If you have a complaint, give it to me. I run a professional department, lieutenant. I don't tolerate uncooperative."

"Your assistant CMO," Jason says immediately. "Captain Hawkins ordered me to use whatever staff was necessary to prepare those." He tilts his head, indicating the now-inactive sensor dome mounted over the shop doorway. "Lieutenant Mason decided that it was more pressing to monitor a quite comatose individual than to follow those orders."

The crowd has finally dispersed. With only a few window shoppers lingering about. Ouyang turns and sees that the engineers are wrapping up with their work and heading out. He turns to Turner. "Well, looks like our work is done here. I'll be reporting back to Science to see if there are additional duties to carry out. Take care."

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