PHD #015: A Moment of Your Time
A Moment of Your Time
Summary: Sawyer approaches the CO about several issues directly. Progress?
Date: PHD 15 (13 Mar 2041 AE)
Related Logs: None. Just prior to The Test of Gold.
Abbot Sawyer 

Commander's Quarters

The Admiral's Quarters are as stately as can be expected. One of the few rooms on the ship to get carpeting, it has numerous other small amenities that only few can ever dream of having. A personal bathroom has a privacy door to the side with its own shower and sink. The bunk has a queen size mattress which is set deep into the wall. Overhead of the bunk is personal storage while the rest of the room is lined with bookshelves and pictures from various points in the CO's life or noteworthy occasions. Above the Admiral's large oak desk is a set of displays the read-off various status reports throughout the day and night. A seating area with overstuffed chairs and a coffee table, is located nearer to the entrance hatch.

Due to the fact that the day has been quieter then the past several days, Michael has taken this opportunity to lock himself away in his quarters to progress through some of the paperwork that has been rapidly building up. As such, the man is seated behind the oak desk, flipping through various sheets of paper while casting an occasional glance up at the monitors, no doubt to simply see if anything is scroll past that he should be aware of. Content that nothing is transpiring, eyes return to the paperwork before a pen is finally lifted to sign his name. Beside the stack, a small glass containing an amber liquid can be seen, no doubt one of the few pleasures of being Command and able to partaking, even when condition levels are set.

There's a knock at the door, and after the CO presumably bids whomever it is entrance, a younger crewman appears and announces Sawyer as having a vague appointment for whenever the Rear Admiral had a moment. Which apparently is now. He disappears back in the hall to be replaced by a fresh-faced Sawyer, primped just so for the meeting. She's in her business attire, heels and tasteful makeup and offers the man a polite smile when she enters. "I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time." Leaving his face, her eyes quickly tick tock over his desk, the drink, and whatever she see he's working on without being overly nosy.

The knock comes and Michael is indicating that entry is allowed and as such, when the crewman announces Sawyer's presence, he's giving a simply nod before settling the pen back on the desk. Shifting in the chair, he settles back against it as he looks to the Reporter as she enters, a faint smile crossing his lips before he's giving a shake of his head. "Not at all, Ms. Averies." Lifting a hand, he motions to one of the chairs in front of the desk, "Please, have a seat."

Sawyer moves around the chair and smooths her trouser legs as she sits. She's devoid of paper and pencil or other recording device, at least to the naked eye. Maybe she's here on pleasure, but he's not that lucky. "Thank you." Taking a moment longer, Sawyer settles into the seat. "I appreciate you taking the moment to see me. I know you're a busy man, even without the given circumstances. I hope you don't mind, but I was tired of having what I had to say and the responses there to being filtered through someone else."

Watching as she sits, the Admiral allows the hints of a smile to remain upon his lips and when she's finally settled, he's leaning forward to open one of the drawers on the desk so that another glass can be removed, "Drink?" Then, he's giving a simple nod of his head. "It's not a problem at all, Ms. Averies. With our current circumstances, my door is open to both those of the Military occupation and those of the Civilian world." A bottle is drawn from the desk, though the glass is not filled yet. "I trust that you have something on your mind?"

Sawyer's eyes look to the bottle for a long moment, long enough at least to read the label and mark it as cider (the non-alcoholic kind). "That would be nice, thank you." Elbows planted on top of the arms of the chair, she laces her fingers like a bridge across the gap above her lap. "Several things, as a matter of fact. I'll start with the most innocuous as you'll likely ignore my opinion anyways. It's come to my attention that you'd like to have a social gathering for civilians and military personnel alike. I think, at the moment, it's in poor taste. Maybe a month from now, or so. But to do so now would be to demean people's grief. And to have that announcement made over the wireless system, by your TAACO? Even I know that's bad PR." So much for beating around the bush.

The cap is removed from the bottle and the glass is filled before he's once more sealing the container and settling it back within the drawer. Then, a hand lifts and he's pushing the drink across the desk, towards her, before settling back in his chair. Hands settle in his lap now, eyes remaining focused on her as she speaks. "Perhaps, in your opinion, it's poor taste. Perhaps, another few's it as being a good idea. That is why they are opinions. We all have them, in differing degree's." Lifting his right hand, he claims his glass, but only so that it can be settled on the arm of his chair, "Social gatherings come in many different respects, Ms. Averies. They come in the form of getting together to discuss those that have lost. Celebrate those that have been lost. Remember those that have been lost." It's then that the glass is lifted to his lips so that a small amount can be tasted and swallowed. "My men are working around the clock. They need time to digest things. To relax their minds. I have no relief personal. No steady stream of replacements. As such, I must ensure the mental well-being of everyone on-board." A pause now, the smile fading from his lips, "As for the announcement, it is necessary. This is a military vessel and that is how announcements are made. At this particular point in time, I am not concerned with my PR rating. Information need to be made public, to everyone. That is the most efficient manner to do so."

Sawyer keeps a wry smile on her features during his very measured and textbook responses. "Opinions are like assholes, Rear Admiral Abbott: everyone has one. If you're angling for a wake, I think that's more on par with the situation. The way the Captain made it sound, it was as if we were going to have an ice cream social. If you still feel it's in your crew's best interests to have this, then may I bring up my second suggestion - lift the drinking ban on the vessel. So that when and if we drop to Condition Three, give them yet another way to relax during their off-duty hours."

A faint chuckle escape's past Michael's lips as he gives a slight shake of his head, "That is a different way to put it." Fingers tap idly against the glass before he continues to speak, "I'm not going to set any requirements on what people can do, Ms. Averies. I will simply provide an area and anything else that people may need. Beyond that, they are free to do what they wish. Some, will no doubt wish a wake. Otherwise, will probably want to partake in something fun, so as to take their minds off the loss of friends for a few minutes. Each person will grieve in their own fashion and at their own rate. I will not dictate what transpires." A pause now and he's giving another nod of his head, "I am already making preparations to have the drinking ban lifted, in designated area's and under specific conditions."

Sawyer shares in his amusement at her turn of phrase, her eyes lighting up and crinkling at the corners. The last of his statements though, has one of her eyebrows quirking up. "Oh? Forgive my curiosity, but what would the areas and conditions be? Speaking for myself, I could use a good stiff belt of something gut burning."

This time, a smirk begins to draw upon Michael's lips as he gives a slight shake of his head, "Not at liberty to discuss the conditions at this moment. Not, because I'm trying to hide them, but simply because they have not been finalized. I would hate to pass something along, to you, only to have it changed a few hours later. Once they have been finalized, I will be sure that a copy is set to you for publication." Settling back in his chair, he's lifting the glass to his lips to drain the remainder of it's contents, "Area's that are clearly designated off duty, such as the Observation Deck and Rec Room."

"Berthings? Just looking for an idea here, nothing official. It won't leave this office." Of course, how much can you truly trust a reporter? But if she says it's off the record there's a good chance Sawyer means it. "Any idea when it will be finalized? You are the boss, after all. Could be right now if you just picked up your hand set and say the word."

"No, not in the berthings. At least, not yet. There is a lot of on-duty personal that move through through there. So, initially, alcohol will not be allowed in the berthings." The smirk remains on his lips, followed by a faint chuckle. "Yes, I am and yes I could. But, I'm not going to. Well I have a good idea on the conditions that I'm going to set, I plan to ask my senior officer for their thoughts as well." A pause and he's lifting a hand, motioning in her direction, "On that note, if you have a particular thought on the situation, please feel free to say it. It will be given the same consideration."

The Journalist makes some thoughtful noise in the back of her throat, followed by her finally reaching forward to accept her glass of cider. She touches it to her lips, taking a drink to wet her whistle before she continues. "Well, my only argument for berthings is that sometimes people prefer to drink in a semi-private setting. All those places you listed are rather public, and it's hard to cry into your metaphoric beer when you have an audience. If you allow drinking, but not in berthings you're either going to get a lot of people sneaking off to storage rooms or nipping once their curtains are closed anyways."

"Valid enough point, though that's something that already transpires now. I may not be 'one of the boys' anymore, but I remember what it was like back when I was an Ensign and a Lieutenant." Leaning forward, he settles his glass on the desk before leaning back, "I'm also not foolish enough to not think that it's happening. With that in mind, I will add the berthings to the authorized list of places that people will be able to drink. Though, it will be in moderation there, due to the fact that it's a high traffic area for those that are on duty."

Sawyer gives a bit of a laugh, just in good humor. "And whoever said you weren't a reasonable man?" She nods along with his decision, "That would be my only suggestion, moderation a given. The observation deck, recreation room and berthings seem to cover all the high points at least. I'm not going to quibble about rooms like the laundry room and the library, though those tend to be off duty too, don't they? And the civilian areas like where the refugees are kept? The Guest quarters? I assume those won't be an issue or policed unless need be by the MP's."

Her laugh garners another smile as Michael gives a nod of his head, "Oh, I can't disagree that those area's are classed as off-duty as well, though I would prefer people not be lugging booze down to the laundry room or down to the library. For now, those will remain off limits in terms of drinking." Hands settle in his lap, fingers lacing together, "Guest Quarters will be acceptable, for those that have been assigned to them. The civilian area will also be acceptable."

Sawyer is doing her duty by making him continue to think on both sides of the fence, representing both military and civilian interests and no doubt her own. Her features smooth out as if she's already tasting that first sip of legally consumed alcohol. "At least now people will be able to concentrate on other things, now that they won't have to worry about hiding their booze. I did have one more point of interest to bring up with you, if I haven't already bored you to tears."

It's the Admiral's turn to offer a laugh as he gives another nod of his head, "True. Though, they will continue to hide it in area's that they aren't supposed to have it. It's a cycle that never gets broken." Then, a hand lifts in a continue-styled wave, "I'm afraid that it takes more then this to bore me. Please, if you have another point of interest, now would be the time to bring it up."

"My pet project. The newspaper. While I understand the need to keep some items out of the press, if I'm not given some freedom it might as well just be memorandums passed down by your staff. I need to know exactly what sort of reign you'll have over it. Do I need to submit complete drafts every time?" Now that Sawyer's on to speaking about her passion, she's leaning forward slightly in her chair, her glass dangling between her knees by her fingertips.

"I hand wondered when you would broach upon this topic, Ms. Averies. I am surprised you waited this long." The smile remains upon his lips as he settles his head against the back of his chair, "I'm not going to micro manage your little project, if that's what your wondering. I've asked to approve the first couple of drafts, so that I have an idea of what's going into them, before they are released. Beyond that, you'll be free to print them without my approval." Hands unclasp as he begins to lean forward, "Though, I will make one thing clear. The secrecy of operations and other classified material is something that I take very seriously. I would be most displeased if I -ever- found something of that nature in a public document being circulated around the ship. I say this now, so that there can be no misconceptions about it."

Sawyer reaches forward to slide her glass onto his desk. "I may be brazen, Michael. May I call you Michael?" Rhetorical, as she continues for now, if he's going to slap her, he'll have to wait until she pauses for breath. "But I'm not stupid. While I'm a diehard fan of the truth, I'm not going to do anything that will jeopardize the safety of the people aboard this ship. If this is all that's left of humanity, there's no sense in putting that in danger." A smirk, "But I hope you don't expect issues containing my grandmother's cookie recipe and what flavor of jello the galley is serving this week."

There's a faint chuckle as Michael gives the slightest of head shakes once she's finished speaking, "Little late for permission now, Ms Averies." The smile does remain and when he finally settles back in his chair, his hands are returning to his lap. "Oh? No menu column for the galley? And here I was hoping that I would finally know what we were having, before I went down there." A pause and the smile fades a bit, "In all seriousness, though, I don't expect you to print columns like that. I had to make it clear on my expectations of what was not acceptable. Otherwise, it leaves that little little hole of 'I wasn't told I couldn't do that'. As for your material, I will see that you are issued a pass so that you can move about some of the duty area's with ease. You can speak to crewman, on duty, so long as it doesn't interfere with something important at the time. You will be free to gather your stories, so long as they don't put crew at risk." Eyes remain focused on her for the moment, "I trust that Major Tillman has already set you up in our News Room?"

Sawyer's lips split to show teeth with her genuine smile. "I've been set-up since day one, Michael." Nope, she's not going to stop now. "Had a desk all carved out before we originally left Picon and I was doing my work before the first FTL jump. But I appreciate the pass, it'll help grease some wheels and open some otherwise closed doors. And please, you can call me Sawyer. Turn about is fair play."

There's another laugh and Michael simply shakes his head, "Somehow, I am not surprised. Though, that his one less thing to be concerned with." A lift of a brow and a momentary pause is offered before he's giving a slight nod, "Very well, Sawyer. I will see that my Department Heads are notified that you have my permission to be in their area's and that you have permission to discuss non-classified material with their crew."

"And this is the point where I wait for the other shoe to drop. Not that I'm looking a gift horse in the mouth, but you've been down right amicable. You'd almost think you respected and valued my work." Despite her words, Sawyer can't help herself from beaming.

A faint grin plays upon Michael's lips as his shoulders lift into a slight shrug, "What can I say, I'm just that amicable. You haven't done anything to give me pause on your requests, Sawyer. As such, I will afford you the respect of trusting you and your work. You may not be Military, but you're stuck on this vessel, whether you or I like it. If we can't .. play nice, it's going to make things extremely difficult." There's a perk of his brow now, followed by the grin growing slightly larger, "Did you have some image formed where I am this raging monster that rejects everything?"

Sawyer presses out the line of her trousers with the heels of her palms. "You're the CO. That's your job, but I promise not to hold it against you. When you finally lift that drinking ban, you and I'll have to have our next conversation over a glass of something a little stronger, hmm?" She slips forward in her seat before she rises back to her feet. "But now, you've given me a lot of work to do. I'll check with your aide tomorrow regarding my clearance."

Rising as she does, Michael offers a final nod of his head, "Can't have my image tainted, I suppose." There's another smile and he's moving out around the desk, "We most certainly will. It's been a pleasure, Sawyer. Should you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask my aide for an appointment, or check with Major Tillman. Our doors are always open." Hands lift to give a slight tug to his tunic, "I'll ensure that you receive a copy of the clearance notice that is sent to my staff. That way, you won't have to chase it down."

Sawyer extends her hand towards the Rear Admiral, "The pleasure was mine. And you don't be afraid to call on me, as well. Should you find yourself in need of my particular set of talents. Have a good evening, Michael. Try not to work too hard, though I know it's unavoidable."

The hand is accepted and offered a firm, friendly shake before he's retracting his head, "I shall keep that in mind, Sawyer. Thank you. My aide will see you back out." Judging by the look of the papers on his desk, working hard is something that he's certainly going to. Or, at least, work enough to try to get ahead.

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