Setting up shop

Posted on Tue Apr 28th, 2015 @ 8:46am by Lieutenant

Mission: Now Boarding.......
Location: Deck Seven
Timeline: 2391. Tuesday, April 1st. Stardate 68246.78

Touring through the ship, Liviana McCray took a moment to reflect. These days it seemed that her memory for just where she was and when was just hard to hold onto, as was whatever job she was supposedly doing this time. Blue uniform meant science since she refused to be a physician after 2250- she just wasn't that good a medic and she wasn't qualified too be a ship's surgeon. So probably science. Checking the pdd she had taken to carrying around, her holopadd display overlaid the blank display of the pdd with a dead battery she carried as camouflage and brought up her assignment- McCray, once again not bothering to assume an alias, chief science officer, USS Victory.

That made her wistful on a number of levels. CSO always made her think of Rain- brave, beautiful and ultimately determined to be doomed Rain Lexington, gone for nearly a year now. And of course the Victory. Gran would be proud. Hell's bells, she might just have had the ship commissioned for all Liv knew. She'd been trying to avoid getting more snarled up in her own tangled timeline and had avoided MacGregor Manse this time round. This one was just a lark for her- ship out, pretend to be just another officer on one of those big and rare beauties at the close of the 24th century and just coast around for a while.

Drift in the timeline, like floating on her back in the water.

Finding the forward observation lounge, she swiveled sinuously into a comfortable chair looking out over the starfield before the big starship. Punching in command codes, she began inserting her own programs into the ship's computers, giving her the access that she would likely need. She tuned her cochlear implant to the ship's comm system, adding multiple redundancies while she set up her voice recognition as well as key phrases and sequences. All standard protocol for her, all simple baseline activity for her... par for the course for the backdoor-installing advance planner.

When Liviana came aboard a vessel, she liked for it to recognize her. And hunting down classified codes and authorizations to enable overrides on the scale that she preferred were always easier if you got them after they were declassified decades later.

Looking over the rosters for her department Liv looked for any standouts, anyone who would be of note historically. Carlton Vrusk was aboard, an ensign in her department. He would revolutionize subspace harmonics in a few dozen years at the Academy, but this was his first billet. M'raal was aboard, serving as a xenobiologist in the science department, years before she would become a legendary first contact with the Xom.

Long, manicured fingers tapping along while her cochlear played the strains of Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 in A major, the Scottish siren set up the duty rosters for her department. Some things had t be done in realtime, and this was one of them. And in the 41 minutes and forty-seven seconds that it took for the symphony to play out she solved the problems of staffing her department, delegated a dozen tasks, answered seven hundred and twelve messages, moved three crew quarters, filled out the requisition forms for her departmental resources, and designated forty-two experiments complete with science packages to be installed within the lateral and long-range sensors.

Then of course there was the process of filling out the reports for sending them up the chain and coordinating with other departments- but that was a breeze once all of the foundation work was done. After all, most of the forms had automations and macros if one used them. And if they didn't have them Liviana McCray installed them, because paperwork was simply not her favorite chore. Which was ironic, given her status as a librarian. But then, the woman was practically composed of odd personal quirks such as that.

Stretching languorously, the buxom brainiac rose from the comfortable chair that she decided was now her spot on the ship, and prowled her way out into the corridors, reassigning her quarters as she did so, absently tapping at the pdd as she went along- or so it appeared, and that was how she preferred it. Eyes watched her moving with an undulation seldom seen in Starfleet officers, but she wasn't on the prowl, and she wasn't here to meet or speak with anyone in particular- not right now. For now they would see her about the ship and spread rumors and misinformation and scandals, and she would take part in those later. For now, she had to set up her quarters, and that was why she had come to the center of deck seven- the very center of the saucer section.

In every similar Starfleet design, at the heart of the saucer would be found Sickbay. That design was standard, because it was the sturdiest part of the starship, and the safest place to be in a crisis. And coming around to the outer bulkhead of sickbay on section seven of deck seven, McCray designated the spot as L7- her quarters. Puling the door chime out of her uniform pocket, she secured it to the bulkhead, then aligned the spatial interface. Tapping away at the 'pdd' the chief science officer programmed the holographic camouflage to project a door.

No sense in using a real door this time, she reasoned. Having people barge into her empty quarters to toss them when they became suspicious of her had grown boring years ago, and now she preferred to stump them via the fact that there wasn't really a doorway after all, despite the fact that she moved in and out of it like the Roadrunner through one of Wile E. Coyote's tunnel paintings. Which she proceeded to do, physically testing the interface to insure that it responded to her genetic key. It would open for her, and she could always add anyone else she wished should she get chummy with any of the crew. Stepping back out of her quarters, the stable subspace pocket whose interface was not installed ad ready, the pointy-eared redhead tucked the pdd under her arm and rubbed her hands together briskly.

"Job done, quarters set, the sensors know where I am, the transporters know every inch of me and I'm ready for some mischief. I suppose I should go to the bridge and see who's about..." As she stepped back into the corridor Liviana McCray began humming a 580 year old tune she had once watched performed live by the creator himself conducting in Vienna at a charity concert for soldiers wounded in the Battle of Hanau in December of 1813.

Launching into the slow and sensuous sashay that was her trademark, the voluptuous vixen of the science department began moving through the Victory... trouble on two legs,