[h3]UMBRA Vanguard-Type SA11[/h3][sup]Voidshop Nova Dawn, Security Office to Aetherial Lexicon.
[@Dead Cruiser][/sup][hr]The security office never was easy on the eyes - androids never had great artistic taste, after all. A desk sat to one side, with not a single bit of paper out of line. In the center of the room was a meager poker table and at the other side, a great many terminals depicting security camera footage from across the ship, with one large one for focusing. A pair of crewmen sat at the poker table, enjoying a lazy game of cards over lunch, while another four sat at the terminals sifting through the footage; it was a big ship after all, and even with four they were relying on alarms and trips - making a mutiny all the more difficult to stop before it starts.

Eleven sat at her chair behind the desk, idly browsing news articles to pass the time. As she shifted and felt her tee-shirt and plain pants sweeping over her "skin" a little, she grimaced - she'd always been uncomfortable wearing clothes and she was always outspoken about it; not that she could help it, she was made and programmed with the intention of not wearing anything - it was just another thing for the enemy to grab onto, after all. It was times like these she sighed, pressed out some of the creases in her shirt, and took a moment to focus: there aren't any enemies on board, and according to her senior staff, it "inhibited the performance of nearby crew."
"Unfortunately necessary.." she muttered to herself, before she returned to her news articles-

"Now hear this: bridge officers to the archives at once. I repeat: bridge officers to archives at once."
Eleven's line of thought was interrupted by the announcement. Granted, she wasn't a bridge officer, but she knew what it meant. She abruptly moved to stand, sending her chair sliding out behind her as she whisked up her sword and scabbard from besides her desk. A small jointed arm on her back reached over to take it - yet another aftermarket modification, so she might draw from where she pleases - where it jointed with the scabbard and nestled it comfortably and out of her way against her back. 
"King, you're on." fired Eleven as she stepped through the security door. One of the two men at the poker table - a dark-skinned man with no hair on his head to speak of and a build resembling Hercules - let out a scoff as he slammed his cards against the table; which, for the record, was a terrible hand. 
"You got it, El." came back the man as he moves to stand, before starting his merry way over towards the desk. 

[i]Shortly after...[/i]

Eleven was punctual with her arrival, as usual. Upon entry, she found herself a spot by the drawing table and she waited - to no surprise, stiff-lipped and silent throughout the exchange. 
"I await your concerns, if you possess any." concluded the Captain. It was at this point Eleven spoke up, certainly wasting no time in doing so:
"Do we know exactly what this is? This [i]'Titan Hammer'[/i]?" asked Eleven, as she folded over her arms and shifted her weight to the other leg.