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Ensign Doz Finch - Ready Room Racquetball


Alieth

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@Doz Finch making an STELLAR introduction to the commanding officers here, good job!

P.S. Until corrected or till she reads your file, Alieth will continue to use that name 😜


 

((Outside Admiral Reynold’s Ready Room, The Bridge, USS Gorkon))



Doz Finch, a pleasure, Admiral. No…


Doreen, but you can call me Doz. Too informal…


Ensign Finch, in the flesh, or what’s left of it after what you just put me through. HA!



It was always a funny thing, meeting a commanding officer for the first time. Even funnier when that commanding officer was accompanied by their first officer. But the word funnier had different connotations for everyone. In Finch’s case, it was funny because she wouldn't dare admit that it was nerve-wracking, not at her age. She had spoken to Commanding and First Officers before - and after all, they weren’t aliens.


Correction, they were aliens, but not in the…well…alien sense. In most cases, Finch had stayed on the lower decks, working closely with the enlisted chiefs, and the most common denominator: the Chief of Engineering. So aside from rare occasions when the environmental controls malfunctioned in a corridor, or a turbolift threatened to turbo-lift-itself into oblivion, instances where she came into close contact with the command team were far fewer than those instances shared by the officers.


She had to admit though that this may partly have been because of her own disinterest in being up there
 
 
In the comfort of the basement decks, she and her mechanical comrades enjoyed a simpler life; a game of chess in jefferies tube six, tea and biccies in the back of the impulse engine room, even a game of Tellarite racquetball in dustier and less used cargo bays, when the Chief Petty Officer had his back turned. Ha! Those were the days. 
 
 
Though even in those pockets of paradise, safety and duty were never compromised, and everything would always be dropped at the call of a combadge or alarm; and they never complained, especially Finch. She was a hard-worker, thank you very much. With a hyperspanner in one hand, and a cup of tea in the other, it was the life.


But everything changed on the USS Marigold. The intrepid class starship, and the last place she would ever talk to Bob Murphy again. Her closest friend and confidante. The one man she’d have given her own life for. The reason she commissioned. The reason everything changed, so late in her life.


As Finch reminisced, her face gawped back at her in the distorted reflection of a bannister. She instantly recoiled, and crossed her eyes to try and get a better look, licking her thumb to rub it and make the view clearer. Her silvery, choppy hair looked like artificial spray-painted grass, and her face even worse; a rosy-cheeked Pelian with dehydrated raisin eyes. It was horrible to look at. And that’s all she did for the next three minutes. Stare and scrutinise in disbelief.


Then the door to the ready room miraculously opened with a whoosh, revealing Admiral Quinn Reynolds and Lieutenant Commander Samira Neathler. Drats.


((Admiral Reynold’s Ready Room, USS Gorkon))


Finch: ::she proffered a wide smile:: Admiral Reynolds, Commander Neathler. ::she stepped inside:: I’m Ensign Doreen Finch, but please call me Doz, won’t you. It really is a pleasure to meet you both, despite the circumstances.


Reynolds/Neathler: Response


Finch: Well, anything’s better than what Commander Alieth’s been calling me. Ensign Binch. Not the foggiest idea where she got that from.


Reynolds/Neathler: Response


Finch: Thank you, Admiral. ::she said, taking a seat, looking around the room at Quinn’s subtle personal touches::


Reynolds/Neathler: Response


Finch: Settling in well, Commander. But I have to tell you, I haven't met the Chief of Engineering yet, though I'd imagine that they're swamped after all that chaos on roadrunner rock.


Reynolds/Neathler: Response


Finch, though rather small in her chair, sat upright like a person much taller. Her face was crunched in focus, so much so that every possible line on her face had come towards the surface, almost like looking at the inner rings of an old tree, that each told a story about every ship she had served on, every person she had met, every win, every loss, every everything. A confidence that veiled the fact that, only moments before, she hadn’t even settled on how to introduce herself.


Finch: Roadrunner rock. That’s what I’ve called the planet, in my head. I find, ::she said, emphasising her words:: that giving something a nickname really lessens the severity of a thing. Something a friend once told me.


Reynolds/Neathler: Response
 
 
--

Ensign Doz Finch

USS Gorkon

Engineer

C239809SH3

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Delightful. Doz out here making good on this quote from her face claim!

"I'm too young at 50. I'm not grown up yet. There's part of everybody like that."
- Julie Walters

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