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Lt Pandora - Deploy the Minions!


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((Starbase 118, Deck 1321))


:: Subspace storms, manifestations of elemental power, ages-old conflicts, and people being possessed were all well and good, but now that the immediate threat of the station being torn apart was over Pandora could turn her attention to what she considered more important things - like making sure the damage the starbase had sustained was made good.::


:: From the reports flooding into her, that was going to be a job that would take concerted, coordinated effort... and a lot of it. So much so, in fact, that she'd simply given up trying to handle it all by more traditional methods. Instead, she'd jacked herself into the station's LCARS network and was distributing orders, monitoring the situation, and generally staying on top of things by acting more as a data processing hub than a hands-on engineer.::


:: The fact that she had issued instructions that only truly critical messages be routed directly to her, with a strong implication that if they were *not* suitably critical the sender would find themselves being used as reactor shielding, had helped enormously.::


((Deck 1511, Near Fusion Core 2))


Koris: This is insane.


:: The Bolian's voice was virtually dripping with annoyance as he pulled a chuck of what looked like deep-fried circuitry out of one of the reactor's control relays. Neither of his colleagues disagreed with him, having already spent longer than they wanted to think about making sure the fusion plant wasn't going to incinerate half the station. Now they'd gotten in properly locked down, the job was to make it safe to start *up* again...::


Koris: Bah! To think I traded for *next* weekend off...


((Deck 464, Fighter Ordnance Storage))


:: As the last of the arming chips was locked back in a brand new storage case, the technicians around the area let out a collective sigh of relief. Sure, the things had to be actually attached to the warheads to be any real danger, but since there was a few hundred megatons of explosive armageddon packaged neatly around them none of the techs felt like taking any chances whatsoever.::


Tinkerbell: Right. Okay. Now... does anyone have any idea just *how* those detonators got scattered across half the [...]ed deck?


:: The unfortunately-named team leader - all 1.9 meters of her, with a build like the dedicated body-builder she was - glared around at her crew for any sign of an answer. It was probably not for the best that none of them actually *had* one...::


((Deck 944, Jeffries Tube))


Venk: Catch!


:: The tool arced gracefully through the air, cartwheeling end over end down the weightless tube toward the other technician working on getting gravity back for the section. Barely even looking, the other Tellarite snagged it out of the air, only to gaze at it for a few moments before twisting himself around to look at his compatriot.::


Skee: Does this look like a 7-A? I asked for a 7-A, and if you don't want the Chief to get creative with you, you'll take this back and *give* me a 7-A.


Venk: Sheesh. It'll fit, won't it? Just use the thing and be done with it.


:: Quite calmly and deliberately, Skee launched the tool straight at Venk's head before turning back to his work. It was *good* to be working with one of his own kind for a change. Humans were just so... serious all the time.::


((Deck 327, Exterior Hull))


:: Someone, somewhere, might have said that a pair of furry dice hanging from the top of a Workbee's [...]pit canopy was against regs, but nobody on this particular detail gave a dingo's kidneys - a phrase Sr'ell had loved the moment one of his class-mates had said it, and that the Caitian had promptly claimed as his own.::


:: Flexing his suited fingers around the control yokes, he took a deep breath and urged the tiny pod into position. A few twitches of the controls later, and the two manipulator arms clamped onto the half torn, half melted piece of hull plating the EVA-geared workers outside had cut free. A few more careful nudges, and he - and the 30 square meter lump of what had once been the station's outer shell, began backing away to make room.::


Sr'ell: =/\= Okay, Thomas, it's all yours. =/\=


Thomas: =/\= Roger that, kitty-man. Fresh plate, coming in. =/\=


((Deck 1045, Promenade))


:: With a thoughtful swig from the bottle of hooch she'd "salvaged" from one of the bars damaged during the recent festivities, Kinzie watched the uniformed drones of the station's Starfleet crew rushing about trying to make sense of the chaos wreaked on the place. From her vantage point on a park railing, she had a pretty good view of one bunch who were trying to get a tree out of a hole - a hole that she distinctly recalled not being there before everything had kicked off.::


oO Good luck with that, boys. Oo


:: In all honesty, she was killing time. She had a message to deliver, but the person it was meant for was probably taking his sweet time emerging from the shelters. He didn't hold his place in the station's underworld fraternity by taking stupid chances, after all...::


:: Well, actually she had *two* messages to deliver, but the one to security would have to wait until a) they weren't insanely busy and B) she wasn't going to get caught delivering it.::


:: The little paycheck she got from the local law was nice, but not worth getting her kneecaps busted for.::


:: Her musing was interrupted by a yell from the working fleeters, something about needing a medic. With a frown, she straightened up a bit, peering at the group to try and see what was going on... and finally spotting someone being hauled out from under the tree and looking like he'd lost a fight with a meteor strike.::


Kinzie: Sookin syn...


:: The bottle went airborne, lobbed vaguely in the direction of a nearby trash can as she hopped off of the railing and scooped up the *other* thing she'd picked up during the chaos. She'd planned to get a bit of latinum for selling it off, but if anyone could use a Starfleet-issue emergency medical kit right now, it was Starfleet personnel trying to save some guy's life.::


((Deck 1321))


:: All was proceeding in a satisfactory manner, and Pandora felt pleased that there was nothing insurmountable that her staff her encountered yet. In fact, she had been pleasantly surprised on at least three occasions - she had expected a call from the crews working the problems, but all she had received in the end was a report that the job was done.::


:: *Most* satisfactory.::



TAG


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Lt. Pandora

Chief Engineer

Starbase 118 Operations

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