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Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster

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06:42 AM... [Jan. 23rd, 2006|04:45 am]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |somethin' ain't right...]
[music |Fix Me Now -- Garbage]

::eyes fly open in the early morning dark::

...

::doesn't move, just stays where the hell is, on back, in bed, stares at ceiling... well, not exactly staring just looking in the general direction... dark... after all... ::

::maybe if doesn't move at all... this morning... it'll just... pass... ::

...

::focuses on overall feeling... hmph... fine... moves a finger... good... bends arm... it's an arm... nothing seems out of the ordinary::

::maybe was... just a twenty-four hour bug, although wasn't more than five minutes, really... a five minute bug, yeah, that's what it was...::

::... five minutes... and that was yesterday so... ::

::nods to self in the quiet::

...

...

BZZZZZZZRRRRTTT!! BZZZRT BZZRT BZZZRT BZZRRRT!

::bolts upright as alarm goes off DAMMIT 6:45 already, feck...::

::reaches over, can't get it, bends to the side to hit OFF button::

::hangs over edge of bed for a moment... good, nothing, is fine::

::lets out a breath::

Well.. time to get up then-- ::stops cold, rumbles, pushes it down aw no not... again...::

::subsides::

... ha...

::sits up more casually, stands as if testing out new feet, hands on hips for a moment, rolls a shoulder... feels normal, yes, okay... huffs out a breath and walks slowly toward bathroom to begin another day, wiping face::

::slowly... toward the... bathroom...::

::picks up the pace a little... and more... and faster, and throws self through the door just in time::
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::YAWNS:: Another day... another... er... ::gurgles:: [Jan. 20th, 2006|01:50 pm]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
Hmph.

::rubs stomach, tosses blankets off to the side, sitting up to stretch... gotta get movin', things to do, always things to do... ::

::doesn't feel much like moving around, body not willing to wake up as normal... probably because of all the Borg fiasco, still sore here and there... and here... here too::

::sniffs::

::gets up, scratching side, stops in middle of quarters, brain a little foggy, thinks, what was I gonna do... thinks, thinks, thinks::

::stomach gurgles::

::frowns::

...

::stomach gurglestumbles... feels a wave of wtf?::

ohcrap--

::slams a hand over mouth, runs to bathroom::
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Askin' for it... [Mar. 16th, 2005|04:12 am]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |takin' care of busy-ness]
[music |Can't Stop Dreaming -- Daryl Hall]

(OOC: just a nonsense thread... I feel like letting folks have a shot at whatever they want to bother Foster with... something new though if possible... or very old... distract me.)

::enters gym for daily hour-long workout, keepin' in shape being important, has always been... sees soon-to-re-be- Bossman Reed in here every day, has decided to redouble efforts to follow 'WWMRD' to hang onto promotional rank when he does return... has gotten used to seeing those pips starin' back in the mirror every day... dad's proud::

::as usual::

::dressed in sweats, towel around neck, heads to the treadmills to warm up, switches on at a decent pace, begins to run::
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Did karma run over my dogma or sumthin'?? [Feb. 7th, 2005|10:30 pm]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |perplexed]

... I don't care what kind of a damned day yer having, Inez, that's not acceptable! Get 'em clean!

::stomps off into Security office, slamming the door behind -- well, whooshing the goddamned pissant door behind not very SATISFYING WHEN ALL YOU WANNA DO IS SLAM SOMETHIN'!!!!::

::hurtles the two PADDs across the room to the desk, watching them clatter into a corner and knock a neat pile of whateverthehell off kilter::

Just... SHIT!!!

::stands in the middle of the small room, panting::

...

::stomps, arms flopping like a ragdoll::

::stares at the PADDs::

::shouts across the room::

COULDN'TA BEEN LAST NEW YEAR'S, COULD YA??

OH HELL NO!


::toggles head side to side::

Oh, noooo, has to be NOW when I'm so feckin' SHORTHANDED I doubt I could respond to a DOGFIGHT... let alone conduct not ONE but TWO. FULL. BLOWN. INVESTIGATIONS. Into my SUPERIOR OFFICERS. By order of THE ADMIRAL!

::shakes head into hands, laugh-crying, muffled::

'Go into Security, Simon, that's what yer old man did... he made the grade, yer a natural, you'll go far... you like order and structure and making the wrong right again, you've got a good sense of MORALITY!!'

...

::drops arms to side::

Yah, well.... fuck you, mother....

::crosses to desk, punches up the duty roster::

Now how the hell am I gonna do this...

::momentarily considers pulling Secorro back out for work... naw, she did it to herself, the ween... ::

::wipes face, thinks... thinks thinks thinks::

Hmmmm...

::smirks, possible bright spot ahead::

HHHHHHmmmmmmm...

::punches the comm::

Foster to Crewman Little...
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And *another* day without too many troublemakers... [Feb. 3rd, 2005|12:17 am]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |bi-zy]
[music |Fade -- Staind]

::whistles, occupado... got the Lieutenant Commander back on board... shot him but, well, he said to so... may or may not be a bit before he's back on duty, depending on, er... things upstairs::

::until then, goes through the paces, usual stuff only... easier... lockdown making job far more predictable, easier to handle even with scant trusted souls on crew... for today, at least... hopes it goes on quite a while... reports flowing in and out of office now like water, with the one glaring exception of the secondary PIF that brought Ensign Cutler back from preggersland, or wherever the hell she was... sure must've eaten enough, looked markedly basketball-like...::

::is feeling confident, self-assured, in control... keeping rank when Reed is back shouldn't be an issue... is 'secure'... ha... in what is doing...::

::reviews who is doing what when, so can know when who isn't doing what they are supposed to and know where to send them on::

::changes info links...::

...

::lockdown... where? no guests were affected, according to Captain Archer's memo... then why...?::

::gonna get this straight once and for all... hightails it on to the android's quarters, girding loins to deal with... him...::

* * *

::arrives, chimes door, waits politely for a few seconds then hollers::

Mr... Data... It's Lieutenant Foster, I need to speak with you. So unplug... or sumpin'...
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Awwwww.... CRAP! [Jan. 23rd, 2005|12:21 am]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |clone me, PLEASE...]
[music |40 Kinds Of Sadness -- Ryan Cabrera]

::in office after Crewman Secorro's little 'too bad so sad I'm a rebel too' prattle... added her to the list, disgusted... Brig probably a tad much but, hey... her choice there, so indulged, after all Little Miss Let-Me-Do-What-I-Want said 'send me to the brig'... and there ya go::

::will probably remand her to quarters in the afternoon... maybe... well, will think about it, at least::

::tosses PADD onto the desk with a clatter, hands on hips... crapola, lessee... self, Fisher and McDonald on duty again after long night... gave Inez a few hours' shut-eye... countin' the five MACO's can call up... sad, sad state of affairs on the fleet's flagship... things quiet after New Year's... everyone nursing various states of debauchery so... won't be an issue today--::

*BEEPBEEPBEEP!!*

::lights flash as security claxon goes off in office::

No... no no no... not a godDAMNPIF!!

::throws up hands, holstering phase pistol and gesturing to McDonald as checks the who/what/where of the next headache... Science Lab Two... ::

Okay, let's hit it--

*BEEPBEEPBEEP!!*

::eyes widen as scans the screen... a... another one::

::waves head side to side::

Aaaaaaawww, just... FUCK!

::hits comm::

Foster to Inez! Up and at 'em, we've got a PIF in Engineering! Meet me there!

::to McDonald::

Find Major Hayes, get someone to the Science Lab with you ASAP... I'll contact the Captain on the way. Go! Go go go!

::nearly shoves him out the door, splitting off from him to head to Engineering::
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A Little Christmas Eve Light Reading... [Jan. 2nd, 2005|05:40 am]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |th' fuck?]

::is not able to sleep... has been up for a couple of hours trading between PADDs... may as well use the time... duty rosters wait for no holiday::

::and again... here come the official 'please-boss-may-I-have-the-day-off' beggings for Hangover Eve... god save us from those people who simply can't stand to do their duty when everything else calls for a drink::

::frowns... almost half of own department requesting time... slackers... lowers PADD, pinching bridge of nose... have to 'try harder', Simon... people skills, says the Captain::

::sighs::

::just... fuck::

::well, could be worse... could be a party, and Captain Archer already put the kibosh on any and all of THAT, thank the lord he's coming around with some common sense::

::pulls up routine random captures of internal memos... never knows whose they are but pays to be on top of things just in case... isn't Modus Operandi from the previous Department Head(tm), but... is his department now -- or, at the moment -- so has instituted a few things to just keep tabs... is useful::

::or will be--::

...

... elephant...

Huh. Twice in one week. Damn Expanse.

::blinks::

Make that... three times... ::raises an eyebrow, files away for future reference::

::finishes with PADD, moves on to monthly reconciliation of departmental requisitions... just in time to coordinate for semi-annual inventory report... will be ahead of the game with this, just like in years past::

::pays to utilize everyone else's downtime, makes the busy beaver look all that much better::

::what a bunch of maroons::
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It's good to be kin -- er, department head... [Dec. 4th, 2004|12:12 am]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |natty]

::breezes through Security's main area, eyeing Fisher and Romero as they break down the plasma rifles for their monthly maintenance::

::raises eyebrow, directing::

Make sure ya get the energy cells completely charged this time around... they were lacking during the last go.

::nods head and turns away, being sure to ignore the eye-rolling can feel behind back... ha, would rather have them pissy and prepared than complacent and dead...::

::enters office, leaving door open, hands on hips as blows out a breath, swiveling around to find something to do... the price of being too efficient::

::shoulders fall as sees a lone PADD on desk, pushed up to the corner::

Pfff... well...

::wanders over and switches it on, scrolling with a sour look on face... three more to go, then will be done with... apologies as ordered weeks ago, gah::

::shakes head... what a waste of time... reviews names, is NOT looking forward to at least two::

::or three::

::hopes that's all she wrote, 'cause... just GAH::
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*eyespork* [Oct. 7th, 2004|12:49 am]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |OMGWTFBBQ]


Your Livejournal Blind Date
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This Quiz by sarcasticka - Taken 3149 Times.
</a>
New - COOL Dating Tips and Romance Advice!

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Just Another Day Outside of Paradise [Sep. 25th, 2004|11:50 pm]
Ensign (NO, HEY! That's LIEUTENANT!) Foster
[mood |okayokay]
[music |Things I'll Never Say -- Avril Lavigne]

Computer, begin personal letter sequence.

* * *

To: Foster, Admiral Frederick
From: Foster, Lieutenant Simon

Dear Dad,

Things are going swimmingly on the good ship Enterprise... at least as much as it ever has. The mission is movin' along at a snail's pace, but at least it's movin'.

Can't really fault Captain Archer for once -- he's making progress on the Xindi database... we're on the trail of an actual testing site if our vaunted comm officer can get it in gear and finalize the translation for the coordinates.

Thanks for the encouragement re my long-awaited promotion. Security is runnin' smooth as a baby's bottom, and believe me, there's plenty of proof of that comin' up as well. We're still trying to make headway in locatin' Lieutenant Commander Reed, but I tell ya, from what I hear via the -- well, where ya hear things like that on a ship this size -- I ain't so sure he's gonna be comin' back any time soon. Some kind of mission he's cooked up, find the Xindi in that alternate universe, figure out how to help our ship find 'em, get some kinda cure for his... 'kids'... the usual.

All I know is what I saw on the bridge... and I told you enough about that, I'd prefer not to be repeatin' such things. Makes me queasy, it does. And I've had enough intestinal trouble as it is.

*burps* Damn chili dogs... gonna have words with Chef...

::pauses computer, edits out last bit::

On that front... I know you rely on me to keep you up-to-date on what's really happenin' around here... Admiral Forrest is vetting reports to Starfleet now, so you can check 'em fer yourself against what I'm tellin' ya. He's a stand-up guy, and except for takin' a strange liking to the Captain's rugrats, he's adjusting well to life in this asylum. I'm takin' very good care of him.

Pregnancies. We got 'em. At least two women, and one of the Voyager GUYS... yep, another one. Don't worry, dad, I ain't touching NO ONE here... I didn't before and I won't now. I left Meri Hayes with her honor intact... she was a nice girl, too. Sorry I had to make the decision I did, but seeing her was taking away from my duties, and as you have taught me, the mission comes first.

And it gets better, Dad... I spotted a surprise last night -- I'll tell you since I wouldn't dream of lettin' anyone else around here know. It seems that Captain Archer might could be seekin' solace in the arms of our pointy-eared Voyager doc while Commander Reed is away. Kids and everything. Geesh. If the guy could kinda make up his mind which way he swings, it'd be nice. Better yet, just ban the sex and follow his own rules.

But we've had that conversation before, and as long as we're out here I know there's not a whole lot Starfleet can do about it. And as you suggested... I am keepin' a log of everything I know about to cover my own career. No sense in goin' down with this ship over the rest of the crew's lack of morals.

Signing off, dad... will update you again next week. If I'm not bein' attacked by one of those damn ankle-biters first.

Your devoted son,

Simon
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