[ THISAVROU: INBOX ] MID messages & IC mail

[forwardmomentum]

I N B O X

IC Voice Mail "Personnel Officer Miles here. If this is a personal matter, leave a message; if it's ship business-related, may I direct you to the Personnel Office's suggestion box. Sending me a barrage of texts will not make me respond to you any faster, so don't, Ivan." Mun Contact PLURK:   runawayballista

Comments

[intherigging]

[Jacky's head hurts. She should probably go back to the surgeons.]

Gone! I weren't gone!

[Except. She was. Ratchet had said that, maybe, but holding what she was told right after coming through the Ingress again was like trying to hold water in one hand. It just kept slipping out of grasp.]

She's a horrid harpy, an absolute bitch.

[Which...doesn't answer Miles' question. She rolls her head to a cooler spot of porcelain and wants to cry. Everything is different and wrong and Miles is on her side and not Jacky's and its Not Fair.]

[forwardmomentum]

[ miles wants to cry, too. he's not sure how this interpersonal disaster got deposited neatly in his lap. he's commanded an entire damn fleet for years, he's had to straighten out unarmed squabbles more threatening than this. but soldiers tended to just hit each other when they had a problem, not go crying to their commander. literally, in this case.

good god, is this what it's like to be a civilian commander? is this the sort of thing his mother used to handle in survey, with a crew of sixty-odd science divas under her command? his already considerable respect for his mother grows even more vast on consideration. ]

Jacky -- [ he grasps desperately for the right thing to say. he wishes his mother were still here. she'd be able to sort this out. ] Jacky, you were gone. For two months. I'm sure it doesn't feel that way to you, but -- look, I couldn't go on manning two full time positions by myself, it was making me crazy. [ literally. ] What the devil happened?