[hr][center][color=ed1c24][h2]THE GOOD DOCTOR[/h2][/color] [/center] [right]CDR. ROSS [i]VITAE[/i] LOG #3 Morning, 2221 [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFON6Qmspfk]♪♪♪[/url][/right][hr] [sub][@The Valkyrie][/sub] If there was one thing in the known universe that Elijah might hate more than the Devastators, it was paperwork. Though he hadn't used actual [i]paper[/i] official documents in more than a decade and a half, the man still abhorred it. He understood the importance of what he was doing well- deciding who was best qualified to join them on the first expedition to a habitable world was a monumental task. And Ross was honored that he had been chosen for this duty. All of that said, however... [i]'Good God I hate this.'[/i] It had to be the worst part about all of these promotions he'd earned over the years. Elijah appreciated the increased income and the better quality of life that came with it. And he appreciated, too, the weight of the tasks that came with his rank and title. There was nothing quite like the feeling of commanding a crew from the helm of a gargantuan warship in the midst of battle. It was altogether terrifying and exhilarating in the same breath. With those highs came the lows. And unfortunately for a man of his standing, the 'lows' constituted around eighty percent of what he did on any given day. Paperwork. It was nothing but paperwork. Signing off on orders, reading over mechanical and troop inspection reports, dealing with requests from personnel and other departments, and any other host of poignantly mundane duties that came with a position of leadership. Elijah's mornings typically consisted of pouring a pot of copy and then looking at his datapad for a few hours. Then he would leave for Eden, and look at his datapad for a few hours. Then to lunch, more of the datapad, on to his office and more of the datapad (and, refreshingly, [i]other viewscreens![/i]) and finally he would return home for dinner and eventually bed...and more looking at a datapad. If Eli was forced to remain in a single place to do all of this, he might've lost it awhile ago. As it was, he was quite thankful that places like Eden existed to offer some different scenery to his aging eyes. Eden was- pun totally intended- a breath of fresh air. It cut out a bit of the monotony of it all, in a way. Ross enjoyed the warm breeze brushing against his face. The sound of swaying trees broke up the maddening hum that came from the rest of the [i]Vitae.[/i] As his fingers traced across a barely tangible screen, Elijah heard a familiar voice play in his ear. The pad fell down against his knee, forgotten momentarily as the commander turned to face Rois Holt. "Doctor Holt." He greeted, his voice distorted by the mechanical breathing apparatus that dominated the lower half of his face. Elijah ran a finger up along his neck, pressing down on the button that caused the mask to retract. Ross held in a cough, letting his lungs adjust to the unfiltered air for a moment. Even if his doctors implored him to keep the mask on as often as he could, Elijah was adamant about speaking face to face. He was doing his body no favors, but a few minutes of unregulated breathing shouldn't [i]kill[/i] him. Ross rolled his shoulders, bracing himself for the upcoming strain as he went to stand. He suppressed a groan at the screeching ache within his right knee and upper thigh. A near silent mechanical whirring followed the action, the sophisticated brace adjusting to release the pressure on his wounded right leg. "It is a good morning indeed." Elijah offered a warm smile to Holt, taking several steps to meet the Head of Hydroponics with an outstretched hand. It wasn't [i]just[/i] a good morning. A good morning involved waking up feeling rested and eating a healthy amount of scrambled eggs and bacon. No, today was shaping up to be a [i]great[/i] morning. Potentially even the best since he had entered the ark five years ago- paperwork aside. Her question on whether he was in Eden for [i]business[/i] or [i]pleasure[/i] brought Elijah's hands together, to be clasped in front of him as his demeanor shifted slightly. "A little bit of both, actually." Ross said, his earlier joviality replaced with a dash of seriousness. "I meant to come speak with you personally later today about an...opportunity." He glanced down at the datapad in his hand, remembering well the names of those qualified for the expedition. Among many others, Elijah had seen Doctor Holt's. "The admiral has me choosing a crew for a very...special assignment. I'm trying to bring together a small team of experts, and, well.." He started, picking his words carefully; he knew that the mission wasn't on the official record just yet, and letting that information slip early could very well stoke the fires of unrest that were already burning. It was difficult for Elijah to keep from getting at least a little excited at the prospect. They were going to a new world! After five long years spent with nothing but dwindling hope, they had finally arrived at a world ripe for colonization. His attempt at remaining serious and keeping this all under wraps was broken by the slight grin that Ross wore as he spoke in a lowered voice. "...How would you feel about being a part of history, Doctor Holt?" Rois was not a hard sell. She was their leading expert on plant life and agriculture- along with someone like Wolfe, Holt could determine just how 'habitable' this habitable world really was. "Now, nothing's [i]finalized[/i] quite yet, so I can't get into the details until I've met with Locke-" Ross's point was interrupted by an obnoxious beeping coming from the device he held within his fist. He turned it over, glancing down at the screen to see what all the fuss was about. "Ah. I let time get away from me." Elijah grumbled, switching off the alarm. "Speaking of meetings, I'm going to be late if I don't get moving to mine now. I'll have one of my aide's reach out to yours so we can schedule something." The commander implored, starting to turn away from Eden's caretaker. He really should've set that alarm for fifteen minutes earlier, all things considered, to give himself more time. But Elijah had a terrible habit of rushing to get on time to things. "Have a wonderful morning, Doctor Holt! Oh, and Eden was just superb!"