>>5968811“Yes, and speaking of sharing, Lieutenant Commander,” your ever formal and to the point Tac officer prompts, “will you be telling us about your interesting morning or not?” His expression remains impassive and you can’t tell if he actually cares or if he’d be just as happy returning to his datapad. Never easy to read that one.
Your other two officers nod, however — Kiro in enthusiastic anticipation and FoZ more contemplatively, the gears already turning behind his intelligent eyes. You’d best set things straight before the speculation begins, but where to start?
To buy time you turn your chair and reach for a carafe of coffee and a mug from the next table over, adding a generous helping of real milk to the dark liquid so as not to further damage your sore mouth. You give each of your crew a considering look in turn, idly stirring your beverage with a chunk of pancake. Finally, you reach up to your collar and unhook your Multi-Purpose Controller, placing the deactivated device on the table in front of you — your decision made.
“What I’m about to tell you needs to remain off the record.” You state in a calm and even manner, opting not to change your posture or lower your speaking volume significantly. The mess continues to fill with conversing gamma watch officers and the easiest way to attract eavesdroppers is to look like you have something to hide.
“It’s a matter of both operational security and a direct gag order from the Captain, but as my bridge crew I feel that I can trust you and I…” you hesitate, reluctant to admit your shortcomings, “I need your help making sense of it all in my head. No matter what Father says.”
You shift uncomfortably, staring down into the now crumb filled coffee to avoid eye-contact.
“If you are uncomfortable with that then feel free to leave or tell me to just shut up, I’ll understand.” You look back up somewhat abashed at the admission but see only concerned faces staring back. Somewhat relieved, you press on.
“I need to make sure the ship doesn’t know what I’m about to tell you, either.” You say, tapping the MPC on the table pointedly.
“The ship, sir?” Finder-of-Zephyrs cocks his head in confusion, looking back and forth between you, the controller and your other equally bemused officers.
“Do you mean to say that our communications are being monitored for certain keywords?”
You nod mutely, glad the reliably quick on the uptake Tyllano had cut right to the heart of the matter without you having to explain it. You are acutely aware that his every spoken word is being filtered through the network connected device on his collar and fed back out in Terran Protectorate Standard for you to hear.
