"Sorry, Harken - t'is Harken, ain't it? XO's place is on deck 'til relieved. I'll sure I'll find y' on t'mess when day's done. I expect t'hear why y've t'Union Jack on yer face." With that, she gave a crisp salute, turned on her heels, and headed back towards the bridge. As much as she would have preferred to find out sooner rather than later why the flag was splashed over the turian's face, she had a job to do; someone had to keep this boat running, and since it clearly wasn't going to be Galen, it fell to her to do it. Beating a hasty pace back to the bridge, the major took a position patrolling up and down the control panels, occasionally tapping a crewman on the shoulder and asking a few questions, feigning understanding, and moving on. All this technobabble was not her forte - perhaps Phalanx might be able to give her a few lessons during downtime. "All stations, 'port in. We ready t'go?" The refrain 'aye, ma'am' or something similar rounded through the bridge before she rushed back to the commander's control panel and opened a channel to his quarters - that much, at least, she could do, with the very helpfully labelled 'Commander's Quarters' button in blue light, shimmering off the projected controls.

"Sir, we're ready t'go on y'order. In yer own time," she intoned, as polite and deferent as she could manage, knowing what she did about that blaggard in charge. [i]In your own sweet bloody time.[/i]