The bridge of the flagship Antares, the Neptune-class carrier which lead the Antares fleet, was a fairly calm place. At least, for the time being it was. Still in formation around Saratar, the fleet was finishing the last of its preparations to head out on-mission. However, Admiral Crighdon was nowhere to be seen, possibly taking a siesta or the like before anything important need to be done. In his stead, however, the bridge crew were fully capable of running the place without him. Without any apparent orders or directions needed to be given, the bridge ran like clockwork, the crew at their stations, doing what work was needed to be done. It seemed, however, that there was only one person properly busy.
Beatrice Templeton. The bespectacled girl was frantically running through the communications, sorting important and unimportant data, filtering out the comm chatter of the other fleets and the station itself, trying her best to modulate the communications arrays so that they could handle the data flow the most efficiently, and, of course, taking personal calls that were directed at the Antares itself.
"No, I'm sorry, Crighdon is not available, you'll either have to wait for him or the XO to get back, No, I don't know when that's going to be, neither of them told me!" she squeaked, possibly for the hundredth time. She was certain she had half the fleet and several sector commanders from the station on hold at the moment, the number of lights flashing at her station indicated several more communications waiting to go through. Poor Bea began to laugh nervously, leaning back in her station to relax for half a moment, before pressing a button and simply sending all the callers an automated message rather than deal with all the calls coming in at once.
When Bea relaxed, flopping her head backward and closing her eyes, sighing away as much of the stress as she could, she heard a shuffling noise behind her. Opening her eyes, the PO3C Squeaked again, jumping up and turning around in surprise, saluting the figure that had appeared behind her- It was Admiral Crighdon.
"Sir! I was just on the line with-"Bea began, but she was stopped as the slightly round-bellied man held up a hand to silence her.
"Yes, I'm aware, thank you. Please route all Priority messages to my station and I will handle them. Standard messages can be sent to the XO, He's in his office now. Low-priority messages can be recorded and sent to the mainframe, which will handle delivering them to their recipients." Crighdon instructed, and Bea's eyes nearly began to water as she realized she had been putting the low-priority messages on hold rather than allowing the computer to do its job.
"Y-Yes sir!" Bea saluted, and, dismissed, sat back down at her station and began frantically doing as she was ordered. "Stupid, Stupid, Stupid..." she muttered to herself as she did so, knowing that she could have caused problems with the way she had handled the influx of communications. "I shouldn't have drank so much yesterday..." she mumbled, continuing to berate herself as her fingers danced across the communications terminal, expertly performing a practiced job. "And I still need to apologize to Hector about that..."
The Antares fleet is one of the United Terran Republic's finest fleets, aside from the Battle Hymn fleet. within this fleet, a small group of friends try to hold ties while serving their duty aboard separate fleets, while battle the adversities of war, and the troubles of running a fleet.
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