"I hate jumping." Katrina Eisenhauer groaned quietly from her place in her quarters. It wasn't an uncommon complaint, although she'd never heard anyone explain their reasoning for it in any way that made sense, and she couldn't either. Some kind of barely palpable wrongness to their bodies as the ship accelerated beyond the speed of light. She'd done it enough that she was used to it, but she still didn't like it very much. Eisenhauer rolled off her bunk, she knew it'd be a good hour until the jump unpleasantness subsided, and got dressed, pulling on her PT gear - boots, a white short-sleeved shirt, khaki pants. She hit the deck, beginning to jog down the hallways towards the commissary right around the time she felt the ship enter ITS. 

As she jogged she felt the faint nausea and discomfort gradually fading, the ship's acceleration slowing and finally stopping, leaving the ship at a steady if massive velocity. She wondered about the cause of it - she was subject to some pretty nasty inertial effects in the cockpit of her seagull, and despite the dangers of g-loc and other, similar conditions if her inertial compensator should so much as hiccup she didn't feel anything like that sensation in the cockpit. But then, who really understood ITS?

Her reverie came to an abrupt end as she noticed the Captain up ahead. She came to a stop a bit in front of him and saluted. "Captain." After a moment, she continued. "Maybe I'm misreading you, but you look a bit pissed. Sir."