[hr][hr][center][h2][i][b]The MOR[/b][/i][/h2][/center][hr][hr]

	Craig rubbed his face slightly as he stood up and took a look around and then checked the reports that were flooding in. It was a lot to handle and they had a limited crew. Alentia was not the best equipped for such a problem, thanks to no one wanting to work for Tristan. It would take days, if not weeks to cover all the repairs. They had the emergency repairs underway but what else would pop up over the next few days as things settled back down? What was out there that was nearly broken but hadn't given away yet? What problems they had didn't worry Craig near as much as what problems could happen. Each scenario he ran through his mind as his antenna ticked with every thought made him cringe. A busted boiler vent to a cracked black crystal. They needed more help but who in the galaxy would be willing to come out there, even if it was only for a short time? 

	"Thanks Tryke, I'll see what I can do to get us some temporary help," he said before giving a quick nod and moving over to the Comm Desk and started placing outer world communications to various towers. One after another said "No." Some made excuses they were under staffed, others just gave a flat out hell no, one even just laughed into the monitor and then screen went black. It wasn't looking good. Groaning he rubbed the back of his neck and started pacing for a few minutes before an idea popped into his head. Turning back to the comm, he placed one last "call" and crossed his fingers. 

	"Earth Tower, how may I direct your comm?" a voice popped in over the comm but no image feed was showing as of yet.

	"Um, yeah. Craig, Altenia Tower. Need to speak with Tower Lead Crisin," he said nervously. He had had to deal with the woman in the past and while she wasn't as big of a problem in his rear end as Tristan was, she was no one to be trifled with.  

	"Your funeral," the voice said before patching him through to the MOR of Earth Tower. 

	"What the fuck do you want Craig?" Crisin asked without even looking at the monitor. 

	"Yeah, we had an incident. We need repair back up...." he said, having to clear his throat a little bit. Crisin looked over to the monitor out of the corner of her eye and asked why. He explained and she just shook her head a bit; his heart dropped, figuring she was turning him down. 

	"Fucking figures. Well she can't catch a ship if she is bleeding. We will send what we can on the planned transport in 15 hours. We will not throw though until I have visual confirmation that she is able to be there for the catch," Crisin said as she sat back in her chair and pushed her white hair out of her face. 

	"That's great! I can get Tristan..." he started but was cut off. 

	"Fuck that, I throw to Silvia or I don't throw," she spat before cutting off the comm and the screen going black. Craig chuckled nervously and looked over towards Tryke. 

	"Well, that could have gone worse," he chuckled a bit before the alarms went off again. "Fucking Christ, what now?" he said looking over at the monitors. Seemed there was a malfunction in the core reactor for the power drives. "Tryke, this one is all yours," he said quickly as he shut off the alarm. "Looks like you are in Hazard pay now..." he mumbled. It wouldn't be an easy repair and it was dangerous but if anyone could handle it, Tryke could. He just hoped he didn't end up with another Talent in the Infirmary. 


[hr][hr][center][h2][i][b]Infirmary --- Tristan's Quarters[/b][/i][/h2][/center][hr][hr]

	Crisna nodded slightly and headed back into the room with Silvia to check on her. She was pretty sure that the T1 would be okay but in the end she really didn't know. She wished there were T1 Empaths, they would have been better equipped to deal with the mind and the blocks placed on a T1 because of their training. Granted she wished she was on another planet that was better equipped over all, Tristan didn't keep things up to date enough for her liking, figuring if people got hurt it wasn't his problem. Maybe he wasn't coming out of his quarters because he was dead. Wouldn't that be nice she thought to herself and then groaned. It wasn't a nice thought, to hope that someone was dead but in the end the tower would have been better off if he was. 

	Yet up in his quarters, Tristan was anything but dead. He was alive and he was fuming as he sat in a chair facing the door, glaring at a broken flower arrangement on the floor. He was livid but he knew someone would be by to check on him. He was the Tower Lead, they had to. Granted the fact someone hadn't already come to check on him only made the man that much more hostile as the moments ticked by. When the door finally opened the broken vase went sailing through the air and crashed next to Fishers head. He wasn't aiming for the man but merely making a point. As if to say - Where the fuck have you been?

	"Where the fuck have you been?" he spat as his snake like fingers curled along the arm of his chair; echoing the very thing he had thought. "I could have been up here, laid out, injured, dying! Where the fuck would you been then? No T1 to bring anything in? Oh the GTC will not be happy to find out you were lolly gagging around and not tending to the Tower Lead! You and the rest of the staff will go on report for not making me your top priority!" he growled as he stood up, his eyes flashing with anger. 

	"So, what was so important that someone did not arrive here earlier? I don't even care what happened, you watch yourself Fisher! There are plenty of other people that would love to take over as HoS; tons pouring out of the academy willing to do the job that you cannot seem to. Put the Tower Lead at the top of your list when it comes to security!" he hissed as he took a step forward, the tentacle like strands of his hair twitching against his shoulders. This wouldn't be the first time that Tristan had torn into Fisher, or anyone else for that matter. This was a daily occurrence.