Ryan Rolands' mind was buzzing with work.
Files splayed across his desk like leaves in Autumn. Physical, paper-made files, that is. An old-fashioned anachronism in this time of computers. Even Rolands couldn't explain what drove him to keep printing out information that could all be kept on his P.D.A. device. A more sentimental man would call it akin to ritual. Ryan was a tactile thinker. When he could feel the papers in his hands and smell that hard-to-explain scent of ink, he swore his brain moved faster.
But, this time, he had already memorized all the information they could give him. Ryan was working mentally now, in deep thought. Everything was sliding together like puzzle pieces. He was suddenly realizing how to organize each individual work shift, how to account for the alien and robotic crewmates, how to integrate the new arrivals, and how t-
Captain Liberto's voice blared through the speakers and into Second-in-Command Rolands' ears. His trance broke. His perfect plan was lost. Ryan's clenched fist collided with the tabletop. How did the Captain always manage to choose the worst times? Was it intentional- is he psychic?
But that wasn't fair, and Ryan knew it. He had been aware since yesterday that the meeting would be called. A stressed sigh and three deep breaths later, he had calmed his voice enough to call back through the intercom: "Second-in-Command Ryan Rolands will report for duty shortly."
It proved to be a mistake to take the time to straighten his ash-gray suit, and re-do that painfully tight ponytail he wore. He was almost late, which was as unforgivable as if he were. Ryan Rolands had never missed a meeting, never arrived last, and never failed to be completely prepared- and he never intended on starting those sloppy habits.
Coming into the room, walking briskly, a mental note was made of every figure already present. In his hands was the secret weapon: those same three thick stacks of pearly white paper, detailing all the official information the Captain had given him on each crew member. Ryan carried this little dossier around with himself religiously.
In fact, it only because he had so carefully studied her records that Ryan recognized the sight of Ms. Maria. She was still wallowing in exercise clothes. All-together disappointing. His expression was empty, but his stare was judgmental and unforgiving. He used a golden ink-pen to scrawl a little note on her file.
Then he honed in on one of the more senior members. Ms. Chalkley was looking nervous and dressed like she thought she was on vacation. He had to fight off the growing need to scowl at something. He must keep himself professional. It wasn't as if poor Ryan could do anything; the Captain had probably already given her some special permission slip. But he should not be too hard on her- Maria was still much worse.
Yet at the very least, Ms. Maria was sitting: half of the present crew apparently felt the need to stand vacantly, like lumbering statues taking up space. Ryan
knew enough chairs were laid out for each of them. He had gone over the room every time a new person joined their crew,
twice, cautiously placing the exact number of chairs needed. But some still stood.
"Excuse me," Mr. Rolands' voice was polite but firm, "I know there are enough places. We're about to begin a meeting. Would everyone still standing please take a seat? Mechanical lifeforms included." He slowly looked up and down the imposing sight of Nexus. "The chairs are reinforced steel. They can hold your weight, I promise."
The only bright spot to this meeting? Both cybernetic engineers had arrived quickly. He did always believe that mechanical employees were more efficient. It was almost enough to make him smile.
The Second-in-Command himself then took a chair, opposite the Captain. "Good morning, Sir," he said with a neat nod and a friendlier tone, "I apologize for my delay. I can explain after the meeting."
