Building The Crew

The Vanguard Exploration Service, led by Lt. Col. David Ransom Porter and Major Dierdre Staunton, begins the process of hiring military and civilian crew for their starship, the Minerva...

Conference Room 

A rectangular black plastiform table with the starburst insignia of the Guardian Fleet is the centerpiece of this round room.

The table is surrounded by swiveling, but bolt-secured, chairs. One of the chairs has a higher back and thicker cushion, and is positioned at the head of the table.

Holodisplay emitters and computer data terminals are at each post around the table.

The eagle and lightning bolt flag of the Solar Consortium and a map of charted space are also found here.

Carlon arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

Carlon has arrived.

Porter is sitting behind the table in the high-backed chair, datapad in hand, reading over the display.

Carlon arrives from outside. He sits in a black hoverchair that hums as it moves. He looks around the room curiously.

Staunton stands slightly behind Porter, hands loosely folded behind her. As the pilot enters, she straightens. By way of greeting, she merely inclines her head.

Porter lifts his eyes from the datapad as the hoverchair-bound Carlon enters. His chin shifts slightly upward as he regards the newcomer.

Carlon gives a brief nod to both Staunton and Porter. He hovers torward them slowly.

Porter arches an eyebrow. "Are you a soldier in the Vanguard?"

Carlon gives a nod to Porter, "Private Carlon, or Former-Private, I'm unsure, Sir."

Porter furrows his brow. "I see. And is discipline so lax in your current assignment that you've forgotten how to salute superior officers?"

Staunton raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.

Carlon looks down, then back up at Porter, "It'd be severely difficult for me to stand at attention, Sir. As for the salute..." he scratches his chin, as stares at his hand for a bit, manipulating it until he finally gets it and salutes both Staunton and Porter, "Sorry, Sir. I've been off duty for far too long, Sir."

Porter tilts his head. "If you're not fit for duty, then what are you doing here? Also - you couldn't be bothered to wear your uniform?"

Carlon looks down, then back to Porter, "I apologize about that as well, Sir. In my current condition, I couldn't handle changing, Sir. I will be fit for duty on the 15th, Sir."

Porter nods. "Right." He glances toward Staunton. "Major Deidre Staunton." He looks back to Carlon. "She's second in command. When I'm not around, her word is gospel. Is this understood?"

Carlon nods his head, "Understood, Sir."

Porter clears his throat, then steeples his fingers. "I'm Lt. Col. David Ransom Porter. I'm the commanding officer of the Minerva. Now, I understand you've been in a bit of trouble recently. I don't want to inherit a crew full of misfits and slackers. Want to explain?"

Carlon nods his head, "Gladly, Sir. Earlier when I was off duty, I decided to go to Tomin Kora to look around. I saw a tavern, and I thought I'd step in for a drink or two. I'm not an alcoholic, so I would've been out shortly. There was a human at a table and an Ungstiri at the bar. I sat about 5 chairs away from the Ungstiri. A short time after I arrived a Grimlahdi walked in and sat with the human. A short time after that a Vollistan came in and sat next to the Ungstiri woman. The woman started to make threats at the Vollistan. After awhile of that I decided it'd be best I left, but after I started to leave the Vollistan jumped up with some sort of handgun. I went for my pistol, the human and Grimlahdi threw up a table, and the Ungstiri threw up a table..."

Porter widens his eyes slightly. "Whoa, whoa. On a whim you went to the most dangerous planet in the cosmos for a look around? That's just about enough to get you a discharge for mental instability. Keep going."

Staunton squares her shoulders as Carlon continues.

Carlon tilts his head, "Dangerous? It seemed pretty run of the mill to me, Sir. Well, at the time. I know better know..." he blinks and starts off again, "Anyway, I warned the Vollistan to drop the weapon and leave, since he posed danger to himself and the public. The Grimlahdi was yelling something behind me but I couldn't really make anything out. The Vollistan refused, and kept refusing. Next thing I know, the Grimlahdi shoots at me, burns my hand, I lose my pistol, the Vollistan fires. He missed, but I got the hell out of there and back to Sanctuary where the White Shield was currently stationed..."

Porter nods. "The first sane thing you did, it sounds like. Did you really think you had jurisdiction on Tomin Kora?"

Carlon scratches his chin, "I haven't heard of Tomin Kora, Sir. I was only in Vanguard merely a few days before this occured. I was on Luna my entire life before that, Sir. I heard very few things from outside."

Porter smiles tightly. "Ignorance is no excuse. You should have asked for clearance to go that far away from your post. Sanctuary has bars. Now, answer my question: Did you think you had some kind of jurisdiction on Tomin Kora?"

Staunton narrows her steely eyes at Carlon's claim of ignorance.

Carlon says, "Well, Sir. That was the first time I've ever seen a situation like that, Sir. I wanted to end the situation quickly, Sir. I was glad I was the only victim of that. It was a deeply foolish act, Sir."

Porter lifts his eyebrows. "Were you the only victim? Let's see - there were two other individuals who wound up shot and nearly killed. And, if I'm not mistaken, the Vanguard took a major public relations hit because the bunch of you looked like morons."

Carlon shakes his head, "The two situations were different, Sir. Would you like my story of the second occurance with Lt. Colonel Denick, Master Sergeant Hunter, and I, Sir?"

Porter rolls his eyes and sighs. "No. Save it for the tribunal." He looks toward Staunton. "Major?"

Staunton takes a datapad from the desk and presses several buttons. "I see here that as a younger man you expressed an interest in interstellar navigation, but instead went into basic training for the Lunite Militia, where the bulk of your flying experience was as a combat pilot. I'm not sure that type of training is what we are looking for, Mr. Carlon. Has it been explained to you that the Minerva is primarily an exploration vessel?"

Carlon nods, "Yes it was. I am also quite capable to navigate such a vessel as well, Ma'am."

Staunton clenches her jaw. "Ma'am is for your mother, Private. You can call me Sir or Major. What is your pilot rating?

Carlon nods, "Sorry, Sir. I have had the best training in standard Navigation, Sir."

Staunton nods, then refers back to the datapad. "Your personnel file shows you to be a bit of a loner. This ship will have a full compliment of 50 - both military and civilian. There won't be anyplace for you to get away from other people. Do I need to worry about your social skills, Mr. Carlon?"

Staunton walks around the desk, eyes examining the private all the while.

Carlon shakes his head, "No, Sir. I promise I will act accordingly around the crew, Sir."

Staunton moves behind Carlon as she walks, hands folded behind her. "I don't need actors, Private. I need crewmen who genuinely like to work as part of a team. There's no shame in it if that doesn't appeal to you, but I need to know that now.

Porter pours himself a glass of water from a pitcher, then takes a sip, sets the glass on the table and leans back, listening.

Carlon says, "I will have respect for my fellow crewmates and my commanding officers, Sir. I will also have no problem working with them at all, Sir."

After a long pause, Staunton returns to her place behind the desk. "Considering the" She pauses again.. "tenuous nature of his enlistment, I have nothing else for Mr. Carlon, Sir."

Porter smiles faintly, nodding. "Thank you, Major." He returns his attention to Carlon. "Private, explain to me your understanding of the Vanguard's jurisdiction."

Carlon nods, "Vanguard is the defense force for the Sol system. I assume Vanguard's jurisdiction is only in Sol."

Porter tilts his head. "Can you go marching around Mars like you own the place?"

Carlon shakes his head, "No, Sir."

Porter nods curtly. "And, Private, if we seek approval for your transfer to the Minerva, what are you going to do the next time you start getting an itch in your fevered brain to pay a visit to a strange planet?"

Carlon says, "Ignore it, Sir."

Porter considers the answer. He doesn't smile. He doesn't frown. He just says: "Dismissed."

Carlon nods, "Thank you, Sir. I will be in the barracks, Sir." he turns his chair around to hover out.

Porter picks up his datapad and resumes studying the display.

Carlon reaches the doorway and proceeds outside.

Carlon heads into Deck 1 Corridor .

Raine arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

Raine has arrived.

Porter is sitting in the high-backed chair at the table, reading his datapad.

Raine steps into the conference room quietly, arms crossed in front of her. She offers a nod, "Good evening, sir."

Porter looks up from his datapad, smiling tightly. He nods. "Good evening...you are...?"

Raine drops her arms to her side. "I am Raine Viese, sir... Heard you could use an engineer?" she questions, her accent slightly evident. German or Russian or somewhere along those lines.

Porter glances toward Staunton. "This is Major Staunton, my XO on the Minerva." He returns his attention to Raine. "I'm Lt. Col. David Porter. Your not Vanguard yet, are you?"

Staunton stands beside the colonel, shoulders squared, hands folded behind her.

Raine glances toward Staunton, nodding briefly. She then turns back toward Porter, "No, sir."

Porter smiles. "Fine. Tell us about yourself."

Raine tilts her head slightly, examining him carefully, "Vhat vould you like to know, sir?"

Porter raises his eyebrows. "Are you a criminal?"

Raine shakes her head quickly, "Of course not. If I vere, I vould certainly not come to interview for a job vith de military."

Porter smiles. "Of course not. So, you're an engineer? What's your specialty?"

Raine hrms softly, "Specialty? Is dare a set list or is it best guess? I'm usually accustomed to fixing things around de ship, or de ship itself."

Porter nods, lacing his fingers together. "Where are you from?"

Raine jerks her thumb toward the wall, "Earth, sir."

Porter lifts his eyebrows. "That right? You a Sanctuary refugee? Or...plasma bombing survivor?"

Raine frowns slightly, "Left a vhile before the plasma bombing... I heard about it vhen I vas vorking for a merchant on Sanctuary..."

Porter nods. He looks toward Staunton. "Major?"

Staunton walks around the desk, eyes examining the young woman all the while. "I have roughly 45 slots to fill on this ship, Ms. Raine and at least four times that many people who want them. I'm not in the mood to play 20 questions with you about your background and qualifications. Unless I start hearing something from you that roughly approximates an introductions, I will be inclined to move on."

Porter smiles slightly at the major's comment, then lets his eyes settle on Raine, content to listen for now.

Raine glances toward Staunton, nodding briefly. She then begins, "I vas born on Earth during de second Solar Consortium. My vather was a philosopher from somevhere in Germany. I lived in New York until I vas 15. Dat's vhen I decided I didn't like de vay things ver being run. Vhen I realized vhy my father had been killed, I left. I vent to Sivad vhere I met some old guy I called Uncle Rick. He taught me how to fix dings and so I did. Some time after Sanctuary came back, I vent dare and got hired by a French merchantman named Pierre... funny how dey're all named Pierre, eh? Vell, he died and den I vent looking for vork. I signed on as an engineer under Gildar Hess aboard his ship de Quixote, vich vas just blown up by de Lem'ings. I am skilled in general repair and electronics. As a hobby, I like to vork vith machines, but I'm not skilled enough in dat area to matter." She pauses, tilting her head. "Dat's about it."

Staunton moves behind Raine as she walks, hands folded behind her. "Much better. Now tell me about your father." She pauses, taking a datapadd from beneath her jacket and making a few strokes on the keyboard. "You say he was killed, but you neglected to mention by whom. I assmume it was in conjunction with his anti-Consortium sentiments?"

Porter studies his own datapad for a moment, tapping something into it, then looks toward Raine, listening.

Raine nods once, "He didn't agree with de Consortiums' views on many things... And so someone killed him. I vas an infant when it happened, so I don' know much about it."

Putting the datapad back into her jacket, the Major steps back around to face the young woman. "You knew enough about it at 15 to mirror your father's sentiments publicly. Dangerous business, wouldn't you say?"

Raine crosses her arms again, "I didn't know a thing about his sentiments... I only spoke about mine. /I/ disagreed. I vouldn't give two creds to hear vhat /he/ thought."

Staunton inclines her head a bit, then pivots on her heel to walk back behind the desk. "Very well. Is there anything else we should know about you, Ms. Raine?"

Raine corrects, "Dat's Ms. Viese... Raine is my first name." She then pauses and answers the questions, "I guess dat's about it, ma'am. How vill I know vhen you make your decision?"

Porter raises a hand, leaning forward. "We're not quite done. I have some other questions."

Raine turns toward Porter. "Oh... sorry. Usually her question is de last question of an interview," she explains, glancing back toward Staunton.

Porter smiles slightly. "Yes, well, we like to keep people on their toes. Beyond this personal background, I'd like some idea of how you'd fit in to a military environment. You take orders well?"

Raine nods slightly, "Yes... In times vhen I've been given instructions, orders as you call dem, I have followed dem to de best of my ability."

Porter nods. "Right. How about cabin fever? We're likely to be away from ports of call for long periods of time."

Raine smiles, "I usually never left de ships I've vorked on even vhen ve are at ports..."

Porter scratches his chin, considering the candidate for a moment. "Major." He glances over at Staunton. "The Minerva's still going to be a few weeks going through the refit. Think we stand anything to lose by accepting Ms. Viese as a recruit and putting her through training?"

Staunton regards the young woman for a moment, then raises her chin slightly. "No, Sir. I see nothing we stand to lose. If she washes out, I would prefer it be before the retrofit is completed."

Porter nods curtly, smiling with an upward turn of the right side of his mouth. "All right." He looks toward Raine. "Recruit Viese, welcome to the Vanguard. You'll bunk in the crew quarters of Retribution and get a standard issue recruit jumper - it's a gray number, very stylish."

Raine nods, "Yessir..." She glances between the two slowly.

Porter lifts his chin. "Dismissed, Recruit."

Staunton folds her hands behind her back.

Raine offers an uneasy salute, unsure if she's supposed to or not. She then takes a step back and turns on her heels, moving toward the exit.

Porter nods in approval, then looks down at his datapad.

Raine heads into Deck 1 Corridor .

Raine has left.

DS-3633 arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

DS-3633 has arrived.

Porter is sitting at the table, studying his datapad.

Staunton stands beside Porter's chair, hands folded behind her.

DS-3633 walks into the Conference Room, its movements robotic, yet still smooth, not jerky. Its metal "skin" glints in the light, more in some places than others. Turning its head 90 degrees to the left, and then to the right, it scans the room optically. Walking forward towards Porter and Staunton it says, "Greetings human, male rank Lieutenant Colonel. Greetings human, female rank Major. I am Phyrrian unit DS-3633.

Porter lifts his eyes to regard the Phyrrian, setting his datapad on the table. "Ah, yes. You're interested in one of the civilian spots aboard the Minerva, right?"

The Major's eyes move appraisingly over the Phyrrian, but she says nothing. Taking a small datapad from her jacket, she makes a few quick strokes over the keys.

DS-3633 nods its head, perhaps the most human-like of its gestures; it must have practiced. "Affirmative. This unit seeks employment on vessel Minerva."

Porter nods. "What's your specialty?"

DS-3633 pauses a much longer moment, then says, "This unit is not specialized, skills are broad. I am skilled at operating and programming computers, also skilled in study of languages and codes. Knowledge areas lie in Anthropology, history, geography, mathematics and physics."

Porter strokes his chin for a moment, then says, "As a Phyrrian, I suspect you will consume minimal resources. That's a plus. How extensive is your knowledge base?"

DS-3633 mimics the human gesture of stroking his chin in though, but it just looks silly on the mechanoid. "Unit possesses fair amount of knowledge in most areas. I am programmed with ability to research new areas of knowledge, or other areas more thoroughly, though time and materials may be required."

Porter nods. "Are you capable of following instructions and orders? Although you would be a civilian observer, you would still be subject to most rules and regulations of the Vanguard so we can maintain a sense of discipline and order aboard the Minerva. For example, you'd need to clear any shore leave or exploratory activities through the chain of command."

DS-3633 repeats its almost routine moment's pause, then nods. "This unit works logically within structures. Phyrrian Overmind remains primary authority, however Overmind rarely contacts offworld units with orders."

Porter clenches his jaw, then looks toward Staunton. "Major, any questions?"

After a rather long pause, the Major pinches the bridge of her nose with two fingers as if standing off a headache. "Yes, Sir. While curiosity is certainly an attribute for a crewmember on this tour, I'm not sure that we need this level of intense scrutiny on the rest of the personnel." Her comments are obviously directed more at Porter than the Phyrrian. "Frankly, Sir, I'm not sure deep space missions are the appropriate time to be teaching human interaction to a toaster."

Porter blinks a bit at the major, then lets his attention drift back to DS-3633. "Do you think you can control your curiosity around the other crew members, so as to avoid being disassembled during your downtime by a furious engineer?"

DS-3633 tilts its head, mimicking a gesture of curiosity and confusion. "I am capable of studying behavior both actively and passively as the situation demands."

Porter takes another glance at Staunton, then back to DS-3633. "And, can you, in fact, make toast?"

DS-3633 shakes its head, a bit to quickly to look natural, "Unit is incapable of toasting bread without additional equipment."

Unamused, the Major drops her arms to her sides and squares her shoulders. "What would be the appropriate protocol if a fire alarm sounded during this interview..." Consults her datapad "DS-3633?"

DS-3633 pauses a moment, then says, "I have not yet familiarized myself with current Consortium protocol."

Staunton raises an eyebrow, folding her hands behind her. "Care to venture a guess?"

DS-3633 pauses, "Logic would indicate safety of lifeforms is a priority. Lifeforms should calmly exit endangered area, except for lifeforms designated with function of exterminating fire."

Staunton nods, then moves from behind the desk toward DS-3633. "Alright. And what if you were on a mission and happened upon an unknown lifeform that had been restrained. Clearly, this lifeform is nearing death and there is no time to report to a superior for further instructions. What would you do?"

DS-3633 tilts its head, considering this situation with its logic circuits. "Unit will try to gain all possible knowledge of lifeform before taking action. Possible actions include attempting to prolong creatures life, avoiding creature because of threat to self or crew members, allowing creature to die and study cause of death."

Staunton folds her arms, studying the Phyrrian. "I asked you what you would DO."

DS-3633 shakes its head, "Unable to provide answer. Insufficient details to provide set course of action."

Staunton turns to face Porter, back to DS-3633. "You see what I mean? I'm not particularly interested in a crewman making a bad choice as long as he makes /some/ choice. I can teach judgement, but this... this is something else."

Porter shrugs. "Perhaps. But he's not applying for a position as a Vanguard crewman. He's a civilian contractor. He needs to rely on *us* to save his bacon, and stay out of our way when necessary."

Without turning back to face the Phyrrian, Staunton asks, "And what will you bring to the complement besides the database of knowledge you mentioned earlier?"

DS-3633 answers, without the pause, perhaps this question was anticipated. "Unit possesses ability to logically approach problems and puzzles, and does not suffer from state 'impatience'. Unit also possesses higher than average physical strength. Unit is programmed to study races, which may be useful in an encounter with unknown non-hostile sentient race. Unit has ability to decrypt unknown languages and codes using logical algorithms.."

Staunton waves her hand, then walks back behind the desk. "I have nothing further, Sir."

Porter nods, then looks toward the Phyrrian. "Thanks for your time. You're welcome to bunk in the crew quarters of the starbase while awaiting our decision. We should know something by Sunday."

DS-3633 nods, "Understood." The Phyrrian turns and heads towards the door.

Porter returns to reading his datapad.

DS-3633 heads into Deck 1 Corridor .

A short while later...

Volaya arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

Volaya has arrived.

Porter is sitting at the conference table, datapad in hand.

Volaya slips in with carefully firm steps, her aura set in a neutral green shade. She hesitates a step in from the door, eyes and a small smile on Porter.

Porter lifts his eyes from the datapad to the new arrival. "Ah," he says. "Ms. Volaya?"

Volaya nods, a vague tension about her relaxing as she moves towards the conference table. "Yes. Mr. Porter?" she asks in turn, no real doubt in her voice.

Porter smiles slightly. "Have a seat." He gestures to a chair across from him. "You're a civilian interested in joining the crew of the Minerva, correct?"

Volaya nods again, slipping into the offered chair. She sits carefully straight in it, leaning forward just a little over the table as she nods. "I am, Sir."

Porter nods. "Right. Well, tell me about your qualifications and background. What exactly are you interested in doing?"

Volaya smiles at that, the green in her aura shifting into a more vital swirl as she begins, "Well, Sir, I'm a year or so from finishing my practical degree in Xenobotany from Sanc DistanceEd, so I have quite a bit of experience in this sort of thing. I recently did a planetary survey of Vollista, more an information gathering trip than anything else, really. I'm hoping that besides looking at any new planets that are found I can begin to work on my own theories of bioseeding. There's still some debate as to the origins of life on so many widespread planets, Sir." she pauses more for breath than from a lack of enthusiasm on the topic.

Porter chuckles at the flood of information coming from the Light Singer. Then, he asks, "So, you're not actually finished with your degree work?"

Volaya shakes her head. "No, Sir. This will allow me to finish up, if I'm accepted."

Porter nods slowly. "Well, I don't think we had originally intended to hire what amounts to an intern. You'll be expected to pull your weight like the rest of the crew. Also, you're going to need a mentor. Someone to supervise you." He scratches his chin, narrows his eyes, and then asks, "How do you get along with Phyrrians?"

Volaya's smile isn't without a hard edge suddenly. "I'm used to pulling my weight, Sir. The Nall didn't leave many alive that couldn't." her aura tenses, then softens again into that living flow of light. "I haven't met many."

Porter draws a breath, sets his datapad on the table, then says, "Set yourself up in the crew quarters here on station. Contact a Phyrrian named DS-3633. We'll probably be hiring him on as a civilian scientist. If he can work with you, and vouches for you, then you're in."

Volaya grins suddenly, a stray flicker of pink edging through her aura. "Thank you, Sir. DS-3633 - do you have his datapad number, or shall I ask around?"

Porter shakes his head. "Not offhand, but he's on the base."

Volaya eases herself to her feet, the grin still on her face. "Thanks again. I'll go find him now." She knees the chair back in flush with the table and then starts back for the door, steps more confident.

Porter nods. "Send him to me when he's ready to make his appraisal."

Volaya pauses at the door, turning before she disappears out of it. "Yeah, okay. Is there anything else you need me to do? Transcripts from DistEd or anything?"

Marshall arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

Marshall has arrived.

Porter picks up his datapad, nodding to Volaya. "Records, transcripts. I'll also be doing background checks - criminal and otherwise."

Marshall strides into the Coference Room, gazing around briefly he sets his eyes upon Porter, whereupon he stands to attention and salutes at Porter.

Volaya is standing right in front of the door, looking at Porter. "Of course. I'll see you later.." she says, and turning neatly moves around MArshall and out.

Porter returns the salute to Marshall. "At ease, soldier. Have a seat."

Volaya heads into Deck 1 Corridor .

Volaya has left.

Marshall drops his salute and nods at porter, before striding towards the place indicated and he sits down.

Porter refers to his datapad for a moment, then looks toward Marshall. "Name and rank?"

Marshall gazes at porter coldly before replying sharply "Sir, Yes sir! Private Marshall Sir!"

Porter nods. "Right. I'm Lt. Colonel David Ransom Porter. You'll be reporting to me and Major Staunton assuming you get this post. You already have an assignment, yes?"

Marshall nods his head firmly "Yes sir, I have various assignments sir. Assigned by General Tominov Sir!"

Porter raises his eyebrows. "Don't you have one post, more or less?"

Marshall nods tilting his head at Porter "Posted on the White Shield at the moment sir."

Porter smiles faintly. "Yes, the White Shield. So - what's your specialty?"

Marshall nods seeming to understand "Sir many specialities sir, I am good with Weapons, Piloting any type of ship, I am good on using Gunnery Consoles and I am also a good Cook now General Tominov has assigned me to that task."

Porter sits up just a bit. "A cook? Really?"

Marshall nods "Yes sir, I am well acquainted with many different styles of cooking and recipes."

Porter nods slowly, then sets his datapad aside. "Right. So, why should we transfer you from the White Shield to the Minerva?"

Marshall scratches his arm slightly then begins "Sir i should be on the Minerva, because i went with the Ship Sanctuary and so am aquainted to long times Travelling, as i have said i have many skills and Vanguard Survival training that could help the crew, my vast number of skills mean that i can help out in any situation on the ship."

Porter picks up the datapad, checking the display. "You get along well with aliens?"

Marshall nods and adjusts the position of his rifle "Of course, the Vanguard has many different aliens in the ranks, who I had to get along with, also on my time aboard Sanctuary everybody was alien to me and I managed to get a long with people to survive aboard the ship."

Porter places the datapad on the conference table. "All right. Report to the base crew quarters and remain until we make a decision. Dismissed."

Marshall gets up from his seat and walks towards the door, he turns around before he leave salutes at porter saying "Yes Sir!" and then he leaves.

Marshall heads into Deck 1 Corridor .

Marshall has left.

Trask arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

Trask has arrived.

Porter is sitting at the conference table, reading the datapad display.

Trask steps into the conference room, apparently unconcerned with niceties like knocking. "Lt. Col. Porter?" he asks briskly. "I’m Trask." There is a certain gruff confidence in his manner, and a military bent to his ramrod posture.

Porter looks up from his datapad, smiling tightly. He nods. "Mr. Trask, have a seat."

Trask nods, settling down comfortably with a slight clatter of gear. He seems content to let Porter start the talking, watching the man with his mismatched gaze.

Porter sets his datapad on the table. "You're applying for a position aboard the Minerva. Civilian or military? I don't believe you're a Vanguard crewman, are you?"

Trask shakes his head, a certain amusement slipping through his otherwise impassive mask. "No, I’m not Vanguard." he says evenly. "Your bulletin didn’t specify that was a requirement for application. From the spare information you issued, I’m suited for at least half the crew positions you currently lack." Shifting in the chair a little he continues. "I have considerable experience as a pilot of more or less anything that touches vacuuum, I have 6 confirmed kills in a variety of fighter craft. I’m trained in civilian and military security procedure, along with first rate weapons and martial arts training. I’m also a certified field medic."

Porter nods curtly. "Well, as far as crew goes, we'd expect you to become a recruit in the Vanguard and undergo the same training as everyone else. However, special dispensation may be possible if you can provide some background about your experience. You've got an impressive array of skills, it sounds like. How did that come about?"

"I was the Wing Commander of the Olympus carrier group." says Trask, his voice flat and empty. "I held the rank of Centurion in the Martian Legions." Despite his frank and casual declaration, there is a faint air of tension in these words, a bitter cast to his lips perhaps.....

Porter studies the man quietly for a moment, then looks at the table. His eyes narrow, and he returns his gaze to Trask. "Didn't I see you on the holovids?"

Trask nods, remaining silent.

Porter sighs, nodding. "I can't believe a civilized government would sanction what was done to you. Monstrous." He picks up the datapad. "Any residual effects from it?"

"Apart from the occasional urge to crack Zadorny's skull?" says Trask, once more casual. "No, the erasure was complete. Mr. Kraft isn’t even a memory."

Porter leans back in his chair. "I seem to recall some concerns about your personal safety. Does that remain an issue?"

Trask shakes his head. "Mars has more work than they can handle at home." he says calmly. "And once I aired their dirty laundry in public, killing me would have served no purpose but to reinforce my claims."

Porter nods. "Agreed. How do you feel about returning to military life?"

"I don’t miss the Legion...." begins Trask. "... but I miss the life. When they remade me, they made a man suited to duty and the service of an honorable cause. Civilian life... it’s not for me." He sighs, glazing for a moment at some memory, and from his expression a painful one.

Porter sets the datapad on the table, then scratches his chin. "Well, I'll take your application under advisement. Before we approve you as a recruit, you'll need to undergo full physical and psychological evaluations. But, we can at least let you know within the next 24 hours or so if we consider you a good candidate. Retire to the crew quarters aboard the base and get to know some of the other candidates."

Trask nods, rising smoothly to his feet. "Yes sir." he says briskly, turning and making for the door once more.

Porter quietly watches Trask depart, then picks up his datapad and resumes reading.

A short while later...

Marlan arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

Marlan has arrived.

Porter is sitting at the conference table, datapad in hand, studying the display.

Staunton is standing to Porter's left, hands folded behind her back.

Marlan steps into the confrence room door, eyeglasses removed and hanging around her neck. Her eyes move between Staunton and Porter finally coming to rest on Porter, "Colonel Porter?" she asks.

Porter looks up from the datapad, smiling frostily. "That's right." He nods toward Staunton. "This is Major Dierdre Staunton." His attention returns to Marlan. "Have a seat."

By way of a greeting, Staunton simply nods.

Marlan glances over towards Staunton and nods, "Ma'am." she greets before heading towards the chair in front of them and taking a seat, "I'm Marlan Raxin, here to apply for the position of medical officer." she states as she sits down.

Porter sets the datapad on the table, then steeples his fingers. "Medical officer? Are you already in the Vanguard?"

Staunton clenches her jaw, but still says nothing.

Marlan shakes her head, but a grin makes its way through the professional mask, "But i'm more then ready to become a Vannie if thats whats needed."

Staunton swallows hard at the reference.

Porter arches his eyebrows. "Uh-huh. How old are you? What kind of background and training do you have?"

The smile disappears her face as she clears her throat, the professional demeanor once more coming over her, "23 Sir, finished my medical training 6 months ago. Did 3 years at the Ungstir Medical Institute before the Kretonian invasion and six months upon our arrival here at the Castori Institute of Medicine. While on Sanctuary I spent quite a bit of time volunteering in the medical bay and was able to get that time credited as clinical rotations."

Porter nods. "Sanctuary veteran? How's the adjustment been for you?"

Once more the corner of her lips turn up in a grin, "Honestly Sir? Boring. CIM was a piece of cake compared to my time in Sanctuary. Don't get me wrong sir, i wouldn't call myself a veteran. There were some fine doctors in Sanctuary's med bay, doctors I'd be proud to be half as good as. But helping there did give me the chance to see some things many doctors never get the opportunity to see or do and most importantly taught me how to react to situation when." the grin appears once more, "When I don't have the foggiest idea whats going on, much less what to do about it."

Porter takes a breath, then looks over at Staunton. "Major, any questions?"

Staunton nods curtly, squaring her shoulders. "Was your experience primarily with humanoid patients or did you have a variety of lifeforms under your care?"

Marlan shifts her eyes to Staunton, "We saw all sorts of patients on Sanctuary Ma'am but for the mostpart i treated demarians and humanoids. Got some experience with others but not enough to say i don't need more practice in that area."

Staunton takes a datapad from her jacket and makes a few notes. "I understand. Can you tell me about your most unusual case... on Sanctuary or otherwise?"

Marlan seems a bit surprised by this question, "My most unusual case?" she asks, repeating the question for herself, "Hmm..don't think I've ever thought about it." she responds.

Staunton blinks. "That's alright. Take a moment if you need to."

Marlan seems to think for a minute and then starts laughing, "I know just the case." she says with a chuckle, "This isn't the most difficult case in the wrold..though for a while there it had me stumped, see.." she shifts her gaze to Porter, "I don't know how much you know about Demarians..but their looks are very important to them and their coats are a very important part of their looks."

Porter nods. "That's the general understanding of Demarians."

Marlan turns back to Staunton and grins as she remembers, "This Demarian cub was brought in by his mother, it seems his coat had just come in and just as promptly fallen out. You can imagine her reaction. She was hoopin' mad, we had no idea how to calm her and no idea what was even wrong. The boy seemed healthy enough but we had no idea what was causing it. We ran test after test after test and nothing, everything seemed normal. Eventually we got worried I mean..on Sanctuary anything was possible. We where in unknown territory, things that we'd never heard of popped up as often as the commonplace."

Marlan shakes her head, "We thought it might be something that was infectious..where worried that the cub was in real danger..well we tried to explain this to his mother." she chuckles, "It was impossible, all his mother was worried about was the fact that his coat had fallen off. And here we are, trying to figure out what in the universe it was we had in our hands."

Porter chuckles as he listens to the story.

Staunton tilts her head ever so slightly. "So what did you do?"

Marlan chuckles, "Well, to make a long story short, it seems that this cub had rather common allergy to a species of Razinpuffs only found on Nalia. As you can imagine...not too many Demarians take trips to Nalia so although it was a rather common allergy, it was one we knew nothing about. Wasn't until a couple more Demarians came in with the same complaint that we where able to find out what the common link was and warn the Nature PReserves staff to put up warning signs. But for a while there..." she laughs and shakes her head, "I'll tell you, it was an excercise in intercultural understanding and tolerance with that cubs mother." she seems to have finally finished her story and looks back to Staunton, "What did we do about it?

Marlan shrugs, "Once we knew what was wrong it was easy to find a way of treating the allergy, and the cubs hair eventually began to grow back." she grins, "See, i don't know if you know anything about medicne but allergic reactions tend to be pretty noticable due to what they due to antibody counts..but since it was a cub, well, his antibodys where just forming so we didn't really have a baseline to work off of. It wasn't until full grown demarians started coming in with the same symptoms that we where able to figure out just what was going on."

Porter nods, listening to the story. He interjects: "How do you think you'd fit in as a member of the Vanguard?"

Staunton nods and makes a few more passes on her datapad. "Interesting, thank you."

Marlan turns back to Porter, the grin just beginning to disappear from her face, "Well, I've had some experience working with Vanguard doctors while on Sanctuary and I never had much of a problem there." she says by way of response. "And I'm sure I can learn whatever’s neccesary. I've got no doubt I'll pass the physical requirments."

Porter nods. "All right. You're officially a Vanguard recruit. I'd like you to get to work right away. We need physicals and psych profiles established for the current crop of candidates bunking in the barracks. The major and I will need fitness reports on each of them before we make a final decision. Clear?"

Staunton again folds her hands behind her back.

Marlan's face splits into a grin, "Yes, Sir." she says enthusiastically then adds, "I'm gonna need a list of candidates and I'm assuming I'll be using the medical facilities on board this facility?"

Porter nods. "Use Retribution's facilities. The candidates are Volaya, Trask, DS-3633, Carlon, Marshall and Raine. For now."

The major's brow wrinkles. "The Phyrrian, sir?"

Marlan raises an eyebrow as DS-3633's name pops up in that list. "Umm..Sir."

Porter smiles at Staunton, then nods to Marlan. "Psych profile."

Marlan looks over towards the major and nods as she expresses the same concern, she shifts her attention back to Staunton, "I'm not sure how to perform a physical on a machine...ohhh." she grins, "Alright, I can do that."

Porter nods, looking toward the Major. "Anything else to add?"

Marlan shifts her attentions to the Major as the Colonel directs his attention to her.

Staunton shifts her stance. "I have nothing else, Sir. Congratulations, Recruit."

Marlan grins and nods, "Thank you for the opportunity Ma'am." she looks over towards Porter, "And you, Sir."

Porter nods. "Dismissed, Doctor."

Marlan stands and nods, "Aye, Sir." the words fall from her lips somewhat awkwardly, obviously coming from someone not in the habit of using them. With that she turns and heads out of the conference room.

Marlan heads into Deck 1 Corridor .

Marlan has left.

A short while later, it’s Denick’s turn...

Denick arrives from Deck 1 Corridor .

Denick has arrived.

Porter is sitting at the conference table, datapad in hand, eyes fixed briefly on the display before he looks over at Staunton. "Major, we need to get a complete accounting of the nanocircuitry the crews are installing in the Minerva's science lab. I've heard reports of three bad batches of the circuitry - and the damned stuff costs about 500 credits a yard. We've got to make the money stretch as much as we can. Mr. Cottington's money won't last forever."

Staunton stands to the right of Porter's chair, studying a datapad. As the door opens, she briefly looks up, then goes immediately back to the display screen.

Staunton says, "Understood, Colonel. I'll take care of it.""

Porter nods to Staunton, then lets his eyes drift toward Denick. "Ah, Captain Kraken."

Denick strides in at a brisk pace, then stops, standing at attenion, and nods, "Correct, sir."

Porter raises his eyebrows. "I wasn't taking a test. I was stating your name. An 'Aye, sir' would be acceptable."

Denick nods, "Aye, sir. Understood, sir."

Porter gestures to the chair before him across the table. "Sit."

Denick nods, "Yes sir." He takes a seat, straight backed, hands resting on his knees.

Porter looks down at his datapad display. "So, you want to join the crew of the Minerva, do you?"

Denick nods, "Aye sir, I do."

Staunton puts the datapad down on the table and, squaring her shoulders, regards the captain cooly.

Porter knits his brow, continuing to read his datapad. His voice is rather measured in tone. "Why?"

Denick replies quickly and crisply, "Because I feel it is the best way for me to serve the Vanguard, and I want to help discover a new home, should Earth never be habitable again."

Denick adds quickly, "Sir."

Porter clears his throat, lifting his eyes from the datapad to gaze flatly at Denick. "Gee, Captain, I guess you read the VES press release and memorized it."

Staunton laces her fingers together in front of her. "I shall take that as a compliment."

Porter glances briefly toward Staunton, scowling just a little, and then returns his attention to Denick.

Denick frowns, "Sir, Mr. Cottington said that would be the primary objective of this mission, and that is why I have applied, if it is not, I will reconsider my application, sir."

Porter shrugs. "Frankly, Captain, what Mr. Cottington said doesn't matter within these four walls. It's what you have to say that matters. And unless you quit spouting the words you think we want to hear and get to the real meat of it, I'm going to see to it that you spend the rest of your natural life peeling legumes in the starbase galley."

Denick nods, "Yes sir. I am genuinely interested in finding a new home. But I hope earth will be inhabitable in a matter of years. Besides to serve the human race, I joined the Vanguard to satisfy my curiosity, and to learn knew things, and visit distant worlds. I have spent the last six months in a starbase orbiting the remains of earth."

Staunton coughs lightly into one hand, then returns to an almost 'parade rest' posture.

Porter laughs softly. "Really? I am led to understand that one of your expeditions to distant worlds was to..." he checks the datapad, probably unnecessarily, "Tomin Kora. And led to your reduction in rank from Lt. Colonel to Captain. Now - was that journey an effort to satisfy your curiosity?"

The captain’s features harden, "No, that journey was to address an attack on a fellow crewmember, and a friend."

Porter leans forward, setting the datapad down, and resting his hands on the table. "No, Captain, that journey was an ill-advised, piss-poor vigilante justice attempt that made everyone in the Vanguard uniform look like a laughingstock. Your attempt at vengeance nearly got three of you killed. You only got away because General Trak'gar brokered a deal with a mobster. Proud of yourself?"

Denick looks straight ahead, answering flatly, "Sir, no I am not, sir."

The major's brow creases slightly at the rather detailed listing of the captain's offenses.

Porter nods. "Then quit your goddamned self-righteous 'I did it for my friends' spiel. I don't want to hear it. It didn't sell for the general. It damned sure isn't going to play right here. The correct answer, for future reference, is this: What I did, sir, was stupid. What I did, sir, was an embarrassment to my fellow Vanguard personnel. What I did, sir, probably should have gotten me killed, and almost did. And, sir, I don't deserve the rank I'm left with - but, I'll do my damnedest to avoid doing anything quite so lunkheaded again, sir."

Staunton stares indifferently at the captain.

Denick replies, "Sir, yes sir, I realize that my actions were stupid, discraceful, and nearly fatal. At the time, I thought I was doing it for a friend, it will not happen again, sir."

Porter smiles grimly. "Right. So, tell me, Captain...when your 'friend' got assaulted, was that aboard this starbase, while you kept your attentive vigil to the world you so desperately want to save?"

Even as the words 'doing it for a friend' make a repeat appearance on the captain's lips, Staunton's own mouth tightens to a thin line.

Denick replies, "Sir, no sir. It happened on Tomin Kora."

Porter nods, smirking. "Was he there with permission?"

Denick replies, "Sir, I don't know, I believe he was off duty, or on leave. Sir."

Porter leans back in his chair. "You don't know? You didn't attempt to fully assess the situation before embarking on your grand crusade, Mr. Quixote?"

Denick shakes his head, "Sir, no sir, I was angry, and was not thinking clearly, sir."

Porter lifts his chin. "Not thinking clearly. And you were a Lieutenant Colonel?"

Denick replies, "Sir, yes sir. With the thinning of our ranks, I rose quickly in rank. I did not deserve the rank, and that is why I have been returned to the rank of captain, sir."

Porter grunts. "Captain Kraken, the general was too generous when he let you stay a captain. Your behavior was worse than a first-week *recruit*! You botched a cushy assignment aboard a stationary starbase orbiting a dead planet, and you come in here, seeking a position on a ship that will, for all intents and purposes, be a mobile representation of all that's best in the Vanguard. Give me one good reason I should give you the opportunity to FUBAR the reputation of the Minerva under my watch?"

Denick looks straight ahead, a hint of confidence, not arrogance in his voice, "Because I'll be the best pilot she can have sir, and I'll be damned if the success of her mission is jeapordized by public relations, sir!"

Porter sighs, shaking his head. "Captain Kraken, I can spit in the air on the flight deck and have a pretty good chance of hitting a dozen talented pilots. The X factor in this equation is your impaired judgment, your off-the-handle behavior and your twisted worldview in which it's apparently okay to go tossing rules and regulations out the window in the name of a personal vendetta that didn't even have any goddamned thing to do with you." He glances toward Staunton. "If you don't have anything to add, I'm about ready to dismiss the *captain*."

Staunton straightens. "I have nothing to add, Sir."

Porter nods, returning his flinty gaze to Denick. "We'll announce our decision within the next 48 hours. Make yourself comfortable in the base barracks and report to the doctor for a full physical and psychological workup. Just to be completely clear, so we have no misunderstandings: If you leave this base *before* you are discharged from this interview process, you will be brought up on charges of desertion. Is there anything about this that leaves you at all confused?"

Denick shakes his head, "Sir, no sir. Thank you, sir. May I ask a question sir?"

Porter narrows his eyes. "Go ahead."

Denick asks, "Am I correct that Private David Carlon has also applied for a position in the crew sir?"

Porter nods. "That's correct. Oddly enough, he seems to have gone missing."

Denick nods, replying, "He's tendered his resignation papers, sir."

Porter raises his eyebrows. "He hasn't tendered them to me."

Denick nods, "He gave them to me, and I transferred them to the General, sir. If you would like copies, I can have them on your desk in twenty minutes, sir."

Porter smiles faintly. "He does realize you don't just quit, doesn't he? When you sign on with the Vanguard, you do so for a specific tour of duty. You don't quit on a whim. If we allowed people to quit on a whim, all you pansy-assed buddy-huggers would never stick around. I want to see Carlon's ass back on this base within 24 hours, or I'll see to it *he* is up on desertion charges, and you're hit as an accomplice. Am I clear?"

Denick nods, "Sir, yes sir. May I leave the base to retrieve him, sir?"

Porter shakes his head. "No. You may not."

Denick nods, "Understood sir."

Porter sighs. "Dismissed." He shakes his head.

Denick stands, salutes, and walks out.

Denick heads into Deck 1 Corridor .

Denick has left.

Palin arrives from Deck 1 Corridor <Deck 1: SCB Retribution>.

Palin has arrived.

Palin steps into the conference room and stops just within the door, his hands behind his back as he waits, standing straight in a polite recreation of parade rest.

Porter is sitting behind the conference table, picking up his datapad. His brow appears knitted in frustration. He glances toward Palin. "Name and rank?"

Staunton stands to the right of Porter's chair, studying a datapad. As the door opens, she briefly looks up, then goes immediately back to the display screen.

"Edward Palin, sir. Civilian." Palin says, making no other movement.

Porter scratches his chin, then taps a few keys on his datapad. "Have a seat, Mr. Palin."

Palin moves to the table, sitting in the closest chair to the door.

Porter sets down his datapad, then says, "I'm Lieutenant Colonel David Ransom Porter. My executive officer here is Major Dierdre Staunton. You're here about the Minerva mission?"

Palin nods, "I am." he says after bowing his head in polite acknowledgement of being introduced to Major Staunton.

Staunton nods politely, folding her hands behind her.

Porter smiles tightly. "As a civilian aboard the Minerva, you wouldn't be expected to salute or anything like that, but you would be expected to become familiar with Vanguard rules and regulations and follow them to the letter, same as any soldier. The major and I are going to ask you some questions, try to gauge your qualifications, and then we'll send you off for a physical and psych profile by our medical officer. We will make some sort of decision in the next few days once we have all the facts."

Palin nods, "Understood." he says, sitting calmly in his chair.

Porter looks toward Staunton. "Go ahead, Major."

Staunton nods to the colonel. "Thank you, Sir." Eyes fixed, she begins. "I will be frank with you, Mr. Palin. Positions on the Minerva are highly in demand, it seems. I have looked at your dossier and, while your accomplishments are impressive, I cannot help but think you're experiences in the field have been somewhat.." She pauses as if looking for the right word... "rarified. I mean, you must admit that Oxford is hardly a hotbed of alien influence."

Palin nods, "That is true. However, my work with the university afterword allowed me access to some incomming information. Afterwords, while serving aboard Sanctuary, I was able to anilize a host of new materials. The time I worked on Le Terra allowed me to emmerse in an entirely new ecology."

The major nods, walking around the conference table and taking a seat on the edge. "What has been your most unusual experience with a species unknown to you?"

"An insect which was found only on Le Terra. It had a...co-dependant relationship with several plants which were found only in differant parts of the northern continent." Edward Palin says. "That in and of itself is not too uncommon. However, the fact that these three plants needed to be cross pollinated with each other, and that when combined, it created a very acidic and deadly toxin made this case very interesting indeed. The insect, which was named Helvinski's Bee after the man who first noticed this, was the only creature that could handle the pollen combination. Everything else was undigestible."

Staunton nods. "I can see where that would be interesting from a purely scientific standpoint. Now, Mr. Palin, can you tell me whether you think that might be of interest to the business community?" Her eyes almost flash with the mention of business concerns.

Palin thinks for a moment, "Perhaps in the creation of anti-toxins. Understanding why, on a biological level, the Helvinski Bee was immune to such a potent combination. Or, perhaps a powerful, natural, and thus cheaply produced, acid. When combined with other chemicals, I'm sure it could be very powerful indeed."

Porter laces his fingers together, listening.

Staunton nods. "Very interesting." Gesturing toward her datapad, which still sits flashing on the other side of the conference table, she says, "I've also read that you lived on Ungstir for a while, but soon left. You then made a home briefly on La Terra. Was there something specific about these places you found unacceptable?"

Palin shrugs, "Ungstir was no longer home to me." he says. "That was the only reason I went back in the first place. Le Terra was ripe with possibilities and was an unexplored ecology. The only reason I left Le Terra was that I needed to do some research on Sanctuary. Apparently, luck was on my side that I chose the particular week to do this research I did. Sovereign Ritter decided to destroy the planet. Hence the reason I never went back."

Staunton nods. "I understand, however, I would be remiss if I failed to be very clear with you on one thing. The crew of the Minerva - both military and civilian- will be aboard for extended periods with no chance to jump ship. Like it or not, quarters will be close and there is no chance for a reprieve.

Palin nods, "I was aware of that when I made my decision to come here and apply. I have no problems with tight quarters. You haven't seen the freshmen door rooms at Oxford..." he says. Though his voice is light, as if trying to make a joke, his face is serious.

Staunton stands, laces her fingers behind her back and walks slowly as she begins to speak. "One thing about your information that concerned me, Mr. Palin." She stops behind and slightly to the left of the biologist's chair. "I found nothing in your background that would indicate even a passing familiarity with the ins-and-outs of daily military life, Mr. Palin. Is that true? Have you no first-hand experience with the military?

Palin shakes his head, "None. I have interacted with military personnel, but I have never worked with a military as such."

Staunton walks back to her place behind the conference table, covering a surprising distance in just a few strides. "Fair enough." She turns her gaze to the colonel. "Sir, I have nothing further for Mr. Palin."

Porter nods to Staunton. "Thank you, Major." He looks toward Palin. "Make yourself comfortable in the barracks, meet the other candidates, and report to the medical officer for your physical and psych evaluations. Do not leave the base until we have made a final decision regarding your assignment status."

Palin nods, "Understood. Would it be out of place for me to make a recommendation? I'm not sure if she has been interview yet or not..."

Porter smiles faintly. "We're listening."

"A Tosha Miru, Astronomer. I worked with her a little on Sanctuary. She's good with stars." Palin says with a slight smile.

Porter knits his brow. "No, haven't even seen an application from her, I'm afraid. And we're closing the interview process with you - at least the initial round. We'll see how the founding crew does and decide if we need to bring in anyone else right away."

Palin nods, "How unfortunate... I was looking forward to the possibility of working with her again." he says as he stands. Bowing his head to both officers, he says, "Thank you for you time."

Staunton raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. By way of a good-bye, she simply nods.

Palin nods once as he says, "Very well." and turns toward the exit.

Palin heads into Deck 1 Corridor <Deck 1: SCB Retribution>.

Palin has left.

A few days later, Marlan returns to make her medical reports...

Marlan arrives from Deck 1 Corridor <Deck 1: SCB Retribution>.

Marlan has arrived.

Marlan steps into the room, she is dressed in civilian clothes, sunglasses hanging loosely around her neck and a datapad in her left hand. "Knock, knock." she says as she steps inside.

Porter is sitting at the table, looking toward Staunton, scowling. "I'll leave it to you. But don't let this go wrong."

Staunton nods curtly, folding her arms behind her as the recruit enters. "Understood, Sir."

Porter nods, then looks toward Marlan. "Doctor, more reports?"

Marlan nods slightly, "Aye, Sir." she glances over at Staunton, "May I?" she asks.

Staunton nods. "Please do.

Marlan nods and steps in, taking a seat at the table where she was sitting before, datapadd being placed in front of her, "These medical reports are going slower then i expected." she admits, "But i've managed to get a few more appointments made for tommorow."

Porter chuckles. "So, what's the damage report?"

Marlan looks up, it seems the humor in his words are somewhat lost on her as she shakes her head, "I wish i could find that funny Sir. But basically what i have for you ARE damage reports."

Porter frowns, knitting his brow. "Go on."

Staunton widens her stance as if bracing herself for a physical blow.

Marlan shakes her head, "Right off the bat I can tell you that I've got NO idea how to perform a psych evaluation on a Phyrrian, after asking him how he'd feel about being dismantled he quickly proceeded to let me know that its within his operating parameters to defend against me but that failure is a programmed possibility and that the Overmind would probably attempt to collect his remains."

Marlan sits back, "He's psychologically fine...I guess. As fine as a Phyrrian gets. And he seems to recognize the difficulties humanoids may have with the language barriers he often encounters. I guess a crew could get used to workign with it..but I can't say I'd recommend him for any sort of long term mission. More for the sake of the rest of the crew then his own."

Porter shrugs. "Well, Doctor, a Phyrrian personality is still a personality. Lots of personality types can grate on others, regardless of their planet of origin."

Staunton glances over at Porter as he defends the Phyrrian, mouth drawn tight.

Marlan nods, "Most personalities however have developed a way of coping with other beings, perhaps it’s an inappropriate way, but its a way." she shakes her head, "It’s like communicating with an instrument rather then a person." she shrugs, "I've got no problems with the Phyrrian myself, would rather not be taking a long shuttle flight with him, seems like it'd be one hell of a boring flight but, I can see possible problems arising as the rest of the crew attempts to adjust to this." she shrugs, "Just my job to state things as i see them to you, Sir."

Porter nods to Marlan. "I recognize that. It's my job to reply that the crew can get over it. The Vanguard did a lot to establish a culture of tolerance during its first centuries in existence. Let's not forget that we've got a high-ranking Phyrrian in the Vanguard?"

Marlan grins, "I didn't say they where incompetent Sir, just hard to work with when dealing with a small crew, long periods of time and a confined space." with that said she moves on to the next case, "As for Mr. Trask." she shakes her head, "As i said before, excellent physical condition..but he admitted to me that he's been using unprescribed tranqs in order to help him cope with some nightmares which he has been suffering from."

The major's head drops forward at the mention of tranqs. "He /told/ you that?"

Porter sighs, nodding slowly. "When I interviewed Mr. Trask, I specifically asked if he was suffering any residual effects of his 'treatment.' I don't appreciate the attempted deception."

"We weren't able to get very far in the psych evaluation but there are definetly concerns which need to be addressed by a professional. I don't feel he recieved appropriate counseling after this incident and due to his current feelings towards doctors, find it doubtful he will be able to recieve that any time soon." she shakes her head, "To his credit, when i asked him about it he readily admitted it. Although truth be told from the tests i was running the question was more of a courtesy then a necessity.

Porter nods, then looks toward Staunton. "Major, what do you think? Dismiss him outright?"

"If he could deal with these residual effects i feel he could find himself a place in this crew. But." she shakes her head, "He showed no signs of being interested in stopping his use of tranquilizers at the moment, even confronted with the physical damage." she says and finishes, eyes moving to Staunton.

Staunton clenches her jaw briefly, then begins. "We are not a treatment program. Further, he lied during his initial interview when asked about his medical condition. We don't have time for that."

Porter nods to Staunton, then looks toward Marlan. "Send him packing. Medical incapacity."

Marlan frowns slighlty but nods, "He may of already left, he seemed quite aware of what this would do to his qualifications." she replies.

Porter chuckles darkly. "Make sure of it. Next?"

Marlan nods, "David Jonathoan Carlon." she responds, eyes moving down to the dataPADD, "To be quite honest Sir, i'm surprised the doctors ever let him out of medbay. He was injured a few months back and ended up taking a rifle blast to the gut. The bad news is that it caused damage to his intestines causing digestion problems which manifest themselves among other things iwth very bad use of food." she shakes her head as if realizing she's going too in depth, "Right now he's unfit for duty. The good news is surgery may correct the problem and he's agreed to it. I'll be looking for a doctor to perform the surgery as soon as possible."

Porter rolls his eyes. "The Tomin Kora incident. Right. Okay, get him taken care of. Next?"

Staunton bites the inside of her lip.

Marlan shakes her head, "Thats all. Although I do want to have it on record that I think Mr. Carlon needs to be treated very carefully. He's placing a lot of faith on this post being the right thing for him. He made it clear that he expects to be head navigator and that the Minerva was the only thing that was keeping him in the Vanguard." she shrugs, "If it meets his requirments he'll be great. If it doesn't" she shrugs, "No telling how long he'll stay put."

Porter laughs softly. "Doctor, the only thing keeping him in the Vanguard is my good blessing and his oath of service. His only ticket out of the Vanguard is a brig or a bodybag unless he manages to get honorably discharged."

Staunton chuckles dryly

Marlan nods slightly and grins, "Just laying it out Sir." she shrugs once more.

Porter sighs. "Okay, then. Send in the Centauran."

Staunton shakes her head. "Not a good percentage."

Marlan nods and stands, "Aye, Sir." she says and begins to head out, halfway through she stops and turns around, "By the way, Sir. If we could have your medical records.." she glances over at Staunton, "And yours Sir, passed on to me I'd appreciate it. Would help me get all the files in order."

Porter scratches his chin. "Right. Medical files. I'll contact the records clerk."

Marlan nods and smiles, "Perfect. Then we can schedule a physical to make sure they're up to date as soon as i'm done with these entrance workups."

Staunton cuts a look to Porter.

Porter rubs his forehead, grimacing. "The Centauran, doctor."

Marlan nods and turns, stepping outside.

Marlan heads into Deck 1 Corridor <Deck 1: SCB Retribution>.

Marlan has left.

Mnelmn arrives from Deck 1 Corridor <Deck 1: SCB Retribution>.

Mnelmn has arrived.

Mnelmn floats into the conference room, its tentacles curled up beneath it.

Porter is sitting at the conference table, facing the door, datapad in hand. He appears to be rather weary.

Staunton stands to Porter's right, hands folded behind her back.

Mnelmn floats toward the conference table, stopping when it is within conversational distance. ~I am Mnelmnilmnolmnulmnalmn, applying for the position of Engineer in the Vanguard Exploratory Services. I have completed four years of service in a similar position in a vessel belonging Centauri Institute Deep Space Exploratory Committee. The recommendations of my superiors have been forwarded to you for your convenience.~

Mnelmn completes its introduction using its vocalizer.

Porter nods slowly, looking at his datapad. "Manhelm. Gotcha. Yes, the recommendations are quite...thorough. No denying your qualifications as an engineer. But, you are a Centauran." He looks back up at Mnelm. "Have any problems working in close proximity with a Hiver?"

~As long as the Ri'Kammi does not attempt to interfere with my duties or endanger the ship or its occupants or attempt to seize control of me.~ Mnelmn answers.

Porter smiles slightly, nodding. "That's all the rest of us can ask. Now, then, do you have any prior military experience?"

Mnelmn unfolds its tentacles as it comes up with an answer. ~I have had to work in close quarters for extended periods of time with the others and follow procedures. However, I would not characterize the Centauri Institute Deep Space Exploratory Committee as being a military organization. We are trained to deal with the dangerous and the unknown, but not for confrontation.~

Porter sets the datapad on the table, lacing his fingers together. "But you would be joining as a recruit in the Vanguard, swearing an oath to give your life, if necessary, for your crew and your ship. This may involve confrontation. Will you be able to accept those terms?"

~I do not oppose the ethical use of force.~ Mnelmn answers simply. ~I will take this oath and follow it to the best of my ability.~

Porter picks up the datapad. "Right. Go see the medical officer and get a medical checkup and a psych profile. And make yourself comfortable in the barracks. We'll have a decision within the next day or two."

Porter smiles. "Welcome aboard, Recruit."

~Very well. Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel.~ Mnelmn bobs and floats toward the door without turning.