Kal snorted in derision. "Try listening next time us old folks are talking. Maybe you'll learn something. I said we need a [i]five[/i]-man group, not four, and we're [i]not[/i] bringing you. With the cap'n gone, essential personnel shouldn't leave the fucking ship unless it's absolutely fucking necessary. It's that fucking simple. I need Mags in person to do all the official business 'n shit while we're out there. If we need [i]you[/i], we can just get by using an intern and a livechat app. Little bastards ought to put in the work if they're only gonna be here for a few months before they book a ship back home to leech off their parent's trust fund for the next five years while they write the next great Union novel. You fucking [i]feel[/i] me, Bolts?"

Kal got up out of her seat and left to prepare for the drop, stopping by Dr. Annalyn's chair. The super soldier put her hand on the seat. She said in a low voice, "And I'm warning you now, Bolts. If, at any point in the future, you think you've got the fucking right to start fucking talking shit about shit you don't know shit about, fucking [i]think again."[/i]

Kal gripped the chair so hard the leather ripped and her hand sunk into the spot just behind Annalyn's head, crushing the metal framing into an imprint of her closed fist. Then, she let go and walked away.

"Fucking science officers who can't even fucking count, what will they think of next..." she mumbled to herself.