Round the table.

Posted on Wed Jun 29th, 2011 @ 10:43am by Lieutenant JG Martin Cook

Mission: The Fate of the Swiftsure
Location: Mess hall
Timeline: 18:30 - 65097.07

With his first shift complete, Martin headed to his new quarters for the first time. He spent most of the first hour shifting items around. Photos and a few trophies from his academy days. He unzipped his jacket, placing it on the bed.

"Computer, music."

-Please specify-

"Umm. Twentieth century... jazz?" Though he realised the questioning tone he used was rather pointless. It was going to have twentieth century jazz. Within a few seconds, his quarters echoed with the sound of instruments and a male singer. He couldn't help but smile. His parents loved this music and he grew up around it. It helped him feel more at home, despite he was further than he had ever been before.


Walking into the bathroom, the lights activated automatically as he placed both hands on the sink and stared at the mirror infront of him. He turned his face to reveal a small cut around his jaw line. A cut he did earlier this morning when he was rushing to get ready but shaved too quickly. He'd forgotten all about it. After piloting a Luna class starship through the Gateway, it was no surprise it had slipped his mind. This morning felt so long ago. It wasn't long until his stomach started to complain though. His swift departure from his meal on starbase 911 had left him half fed. He walked over to his terminal and brought up the ship's deck display.

"Computer show me the route to the mess hall."

A gold line appeared from his room to a much larger room on the layout of the ship. It wasn't far, just down the hall. He picked up his jacket off of his bed, wiped a scuff mark off of his boot and proceeded to the mess hall.

Before long, he was outside of the large doors. It was strange to not see it full though. He figured others were perhaps still sorting out their living quarters. Scanning the room with his eyes, he soon located the replicators and made his way over to them.

"Roast dinner?" He wasn't sure of the correct term for it, but in England a roast dinner was basically a meat of some kind, with vegetables and gravy.

-Please specify meat-

"Chicken. Oh and a yorkshire pudding."

As the food appeared infront of him he was glad to see it as he remembered. Martin knew it wouldn't exactly match his mothers cooking but it was better than rations surely. He chose a table near the window and made his way over, taking a seat, and started to eat his rather well earned dinner.