Jump to content

Michael Jensen

  • Content Count

  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Created by

    Dave ST

Community Reputation

0 Neutral

About Michael Jensen

  • Rank

Recent Profile Visitors

The recent visitors block is disabled and is not being shown to other users.

  1. "Flight control is ready and on stand by" Jensen said. "As an aside we all heard what the station commander said in there. We have a professional responsibility to not keep repeating our personal feelings or little snippets here and there on the matter." He looked around to everyone present as this was the second time he'd heard an off comment about what the Commander had said. He couldn't believe that he got railed for speaking his mind earlier and here he was now, reminding senior officers how to be professional. "If he feels that way, it's his prerogative. Our place is to serve our Captain, and right now there is obvious animosity over what he said. As leaders, whether we realize it or not, we carry that animosity with us back to our duty stations. Enlisted will hear about this, and about our personal thoughts on the matter, which is why we should not have any. We have a job to do, let's do it." His eyes met the XO's, "Ma'am."
  2. "Speak your mind openly, get threatened with violence. Passively beat around the bush and imply instead insinuate, everything remains awkward." Ensign Jensen mumbled under his breath. What he wanted to say was 'It's obvious there's some drama there. We have to serve under you, so get your house in order. We're not stupid and it's insulting to sit us here and treat us like we don't see it', but frankly, Petty Officer First Class Chief Harkness had scared him enough to keep his mouth shut for now. Well, shut enough that he wasn't afraid to mumble like a seventeen year old brat stuck at a dinner table with 'family' he didn't really want to be hanging out with. He'd yet to understand how politics worked. Honesty and truthfulness were not something people wanted to her. They needed, no, wanted to be lied to. But, why? It persisted and and that happened in between the moments of silence was the XO leaning over to hisper something in the Skipper's ear. Finally, after rolling around some of the food on his plate he raised his hand like he was in class. "I-I'm sorry... I'm not sure the protocol here. Do we all sit quietly in awkward silence or is conversation okay? I-I'm really not good with people and situations like this. Did I miss a social queue? Are we waiting on one?"
  3. Jensen, still fuming on thunderous heartbeats of frustration, clenched his fists. "She is a manipulative-" "Does any part of me look like I give a single damn about hearing anything but 'yes, Chief', boy?" He still didn't look at Jensen, his eyes stayed locked on the turbo lift door. "Petty Officer, I-," he was still going for the win, futile though it may have been, but when Harkness turned and shot him a glare that could have melted Andoria Prime, the cocky Ensign leaned back a bit, like shirking away from a nightmare made flesh. He swallowed hard. "Y-yes, Chief. Cr-crystal clear, Chief."
  4. Jensen reached for and handed J'Sira a tricorder, implying that she could calibrate the warp core herself. "We are not wandering and everything you told me about the Warp Core is not helpful. I already know that, I memorized that on my down here, along with several other of your core systems. While I'm sure the tech manual you reviewed a few moments ago and thought necessary to regurgitate back to me might impress others, I assure you Lieutenant, I forgot more by the time I was ten then most will ever know." His tone implied that he was including her among that 'most' category, but left it unsaid. "What I came down here for were the things I couldn't get from a tech manual. System limitations, quirks or flaws inherent with that particular model... things that my staff and I are going to need to take into consideration when we plot a course light years from here and hit target the size of a blueberry and navigate our way through frontier space and nebulae. I was under the impression that the best way to get said information is from the professional experts, namely you and your staff. However, since our presence here isn't 'desirable' we'll leave you and yours to it and just make due with the specs we have, I've my own job to do, I've not the time to do yours as well. Good luck with your diagnostics and calibrations." Jensen turned and walked away, shaking his head. He spun about addressing V'Lar. "I'll get the staff meeting going, meet in fifteen, I need to compile all this into a brief." He held up his PADD and wobbled it from side to side. He nodded, "Lieutenant."
  5. "Lead Flight Controller," V'Lar said quietly as they exited the Captain's brief. "Congratulations." "Hmm?" Jensen looked at her, then it popped into his head what she had said to him and shook it slightly to clear away his multiple thoughts and focus on the moment. "Oh, uh, yeah... thanks." With an actual duty section to report to, or in this case, lead, he went to meet with his team. Surely there weren't only two people aboard all of The Destiny who could fly her. They walked together, taking in a few sights of the ship as they headed to their berthing. "You didn't seem to say much in there," V'LAr said finally, realizing Micheal wasn't one for conversation. "I suppose being he youngest member of Starfleet, you don't really need to learn a whole lot more?" "Youngest? Oh, yeah, right, eh, I'm not really all that special, honestly. Ensign T'Set is eighteen, she's a vulcan too, like you." He shrugged, blowing off the prospect that being the youngest member of Starfleet was all that big of a deal. "We were in classes together, she accomplished no less than I did." "Very humble of you." She offered him a polite nod. "So, as lead, what is our first order of business?" Jensen froze in his tracks. It just suddenly dawned on him that he was actually in charge of a department. "Uh, well... I'll be honest V'Lar, I'm not really the leadership type. W-what I mean is, well, we just went through the same four years, or we're going to be working with people who have experience. I don't want to be the guy looking over everyone's shoulder, micromanaging things. We know our job, by virtue of us being in that brief, we're already damn good at it too. So, let's 'by the book' it. Run our typical diags, use a lot of big words to explain simple things, familiarize ourselves with the ship's capabilities, and meet our team and make sure we have all our fingers and toes." She looked at him, puzzled. "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with that expression." "It means make sure we have everything in order, five fingers, five toe, right where they should be." Jensen laughed. "It's an old Earth saying. My dad had hundreds of them, I picked up a few." "Very well," V'Lar smiled, understanding the premise of the comment now. "I thought perhaps we should familiarize ourselves with Engineering as well." "Agreed, let's see what this baby has under the hood. Good call." He saw once again that V'lar, who was fluent in Earth's languages did not seem to speak Jensen. "Sorry, more expressions... I'll explain later. Let's take a look after we get our berthing straight, hopefully we can dodge Lieutenant J'Sira." Puzzled once more, V'LAr looked at Jensen expecting an explination. "She's very wordy. If we get spotted I've no doubt she'll attempt to explain how the whole of Engineering works and we don't have another four years to take it all in. She actually made darts unfun. How does one even do that?! It's darts!" He looked completely shocked. "It's a vulcan thing." V'Lar said deadpan as they continued down the p-way.
  6. Micheal listened the entire time, his stomach twisted in knots as nausea set in, while Garner stared daggers at him from time to time. He didn't speak or motion to ask any questions, at least, not yet. He knew that Senior Officers often looked to see which if the new comers and younger officers were prepared to step up to the plate and voice their thoughts and be inquisitive, but that just wasn't him. He could waste words on things that would be revealed in time or were nothing more than space fillers promising things that carried no credibility with them, yet. One thing was for sure, he didn't understand older people. They sure loved the sound of their own voice. Quietly enough he simply paid attention and listened, while Garner made slight facial expressions at him indicated that his time in the galaxy was limited.
  7. Michael stepped forward. "Ensign Michael Jensen," he said, clasping his hands in front of him to patiently wait for what came next. "Ready when you are Master Chief."
  8. Ensign Jensen stood quietly, reading his pad and listening to the endless supply of rumor, hearsay, and the usual scuttlebutt. It appeared as if the 'professionalism' of senior enlisted and officers was no different than the junior ranks within Starfleet Academy, if given the chance they would talk and talk about anything and everything, never quite grasping that they had a job to and were they meant to know more than that, they'd already have been read into what was going on. "The rivers know this:," Jensen said softly. "There is no hurry." He tucked his tablet under his arm and waited patiently. He'd know his assignment soon enough.
  9. Michael stood there for a few moments, taking it all in. It was, without a doubt, an impressive sight to not only see Asgard Station, but still see it being build. There was a certain nostalgia to seeing something built and wondering if he'd ever come back this way again years form now and see it completed. Like old people were fond of saying on Earth centuries ago (and still today) 'I remember when all this used to be...'. He smiled quietly at the thought of whether or not he'd be that sort of old man. Or whether he'd live to see 'old'. Garner had drawn a target on him, chances are he'd contact his mother and she'd request that the next shipt designed would be cylindrical so Garner could fly it straight up Jensen's-... "Astronomers." T'Set said calmly. "I'm sorry, what? I-I was somewhere else..." He admitted, trying to wipe a mental image from his brain canvas. She offered a warm smile. "Astronomers, I said. It's amazing how throughout all cultures they used to dream of all that was among the stars, and here was are, just starting our careers with endless opportunities to see all that others' dreamt of seeing. It's very exciting." He seemed to understand, but like always didn't seem very interested. It was hard to guess what went on inside Jensen's mind, but most people either got used to it or just thought he was weird. "Umm, I should go get my things together and. T-thanks for helping out with Garner. Chances are he's gonna kill me, so, if he does, do me a favor and tell my family I loved them." She was pretty sure that was humor, but he was just to dry it was hard to tell. "S-seriously. Thanks. I appreciated it." In a very unofficer-like manner, he tucked his hands in the pockets of his uniform, turned and walked off to collect his belongings.
  10. "It is," Jensen said, mustering as much snark as he could. Fact was that Garner scared the crap out of him, but Michael was bolstered slightly by sight of senior officers who, he hoped, would call the rabid loser off him. "I figured since I'm still living rent free in your head I might as well get a cup of cocoa, put my feet up, and get comfortable." He stood tall, probably a few moments from letting his mouth write a check his ass couldn't cash, but, nothing ventured and all that... "Take it in Garner, this is me from the front. Since you've been looking at nothing but my back for the last four years and probably the rest of your career... breathe it in."
  11. Michael recognized Ensign T'Set in passing and had to admit to himself the nod from her seemed... out of place. At the academy the two could have probably counted on one hand the number of times they shared a few words, let alone a greeting lest it was part of some evolution or after hours assignment study. To say they 'knew' each other was a lie that neither could pass off on their best day, but to suddenly be acknowledged out of nowhere by her was strange. Perhaps it was because they were no longer classmates and were now 'colleagues'. Yes, that must have been it. Saying Michael Jensen was a social young man would have been like saying Vulcans produced some of the angriest death metal in the galaxy, sure they were capable... but it just did come all that easy to them. He managed a smile, that honestly looked like it may had been his first attempt at one, ever, and managed a wave at T'Set in polite acknowledgement of her greeting. His wave was lazy and gave off the cues of an individual who really didn't know what he was waving for, but he'd seen other do it so thought he'd follow along, it would have been enough to embarrass a human woman into never speaking to him again... ever. To say he felt out of place was the understatement of the century. Michael was an anomaly, among humans, anyway. His intellect was staggering and here stood in a Star Ship as a member of Starfleet at only seventeen years old. It was almost unheard of. Even in this century he would have loved to say that humanity had changed and evolved past it's pettiness and desire to hurt others simply because one could, but that was not the case at all from his experience. His whole life he'd always encountered those who, because he was so smart, treated him like he was an outcast of the bearer of some plague, keeping their distance and refusing to let him be a part of what was 'normal'. Starfleet wasn't his choice, his parents made it for him when they approached his family. Once there, it was just like Michael knew it would be, although they were all gifted and young, Michael wasn't afraid to ask questions, challenge, or even bark orders during the evolution and quickly became ostracized during off hours and out shunned in no time at all. So, his four years sucked. "You uh, gonna move?" Came a voice from behind him, and Jensen turned about to see two other junior crewmen standing behind him, semi-trapped in the doorway he was currently blocking. So lost in his own head he didn't even hear the door open. They swiftly noted his collar devices and the one who spoke quickly corrected himself. "Oh, uh... s-sorry, sir. That came out a little more tactless than I intended..." "Huh?" Jensen looked at them both like they were speaking gibberish until his mind swiftly put all the dots together. "Oh, oh, no it's uh, okay, it's fine. I'm uh, the one blocking the door, it's all good... you guys, please, come in and enjoy your, uh, off time... or your... whatever..." his voice trailed off at the end as his brain decided to shut down that babbling before it embarrassed him too much. "Let me uh, get out of the way and y-you two come on in and I'll uh... j-just go," he pointed towards the blackjack game, but walked in the opposite direction to the bar. When his brain had caught up that we was walking opposite the direction he pointed it picked up the pieces and his other arm swiftly took the reigns and he pointed in the proper direction. "Go over there and... d-do something." The two looked at each other and tried not to laugh outright. With his back to them and a few steps away Jensen closed his eyes and chastised himself for looking like a complete tool. As an officer he was expected to actually give people orders and here he was... barely able to speak... or point... or walk... or think... yay Starfleet. He sat at the bar, tilting his head into his hand with his elbow on the counter, sulking inwardly. "That, was painful." Said the on duty staff behind the bar. Since everything here was replicated, one wasn't really necessary, but one of the crew from the Maranval volunteered their off duty hours to hang out and help with some of those having a difficult time with the transition; answering questions, being a friendly ear, and portraying that vibe that everyone was Starfleet; one team, one family. It was a tactic that worked especially well with Ensigns, who, even after a four year academy, could be really intimidated by all the strangers they found themselves surrounded by who knew the area, the ship and the people so well. "What can I get you that doesn't involve years of therapy to erase the whole last few minutes from existence?" "Mint hot chocolate, 71.1 degrees, marshmallows too, if it's okay. And something to make me invisible..." Michael sighed, releasing some of the tension he was feeling through a tensed up expression. The guy laughed. "That first one I can do. Second, you're on your own there, kid. But, some free advice: don't let it get to you. We all have to learn to crawl before we walk. Lemme get that drink for ya."
  12. Age: 17 Species: Human Rank: Ensign Planet of Birth: Earth (Sol)  Current Assignment: Flight Controller Personality: Blessed and cursed since birth with amazing intellect, Michael is a young man who has never wanted for anything in the departments of skill or accomplishment as most things came incredibly easy to him. He doesn't relate well to others and is surprisingly intimidated by those around him, consistently feeling like he is 'in the way'. Easily overwhelmed by practical experience (of which he has little) he is quickly coming to understand that an amazing intellect is wonderful, but it does not come close to competing with real life experience. Although not arrogant or haughty by nature, he commonly comes across that way, seeming rude or tactless (something he is rarely apologetic for), but it's mostly due to his inability to empathize with others considering his lack of social interaction while growing up. History: Michael was a prodigy from the moment of his birth. By six months he was reading, by three he'd started his scholastic curriculum and by five his IQ was 210. His basic curriculum was completed by age ten and by age 13 he was accepted into Starfleet Academy as apart a special program where he and other exceptionally gifted children would have an opportunity to see how they fared against some of the most rigorous education available anywhere in the galaxy. They did incredibly well, but like was anticipated, their emotional maturity was certainly a factor in dealing with the rigors of stress and responsibility. Only a few actually succeeded in completing the four years, but Michael was still the youngest, at seventeen. While there he made zero friends, was bullied quite a bit because of his age and his natural aptitude. If asked he will say it was an amazing experience, but in truth he hated it. Career: Michael has no career in Starfleet, having just graduated. However his service record already shows that he possesses hand and eye coordination and intellectual acuity in top percentiles. It was common among the academy instructors to say that if it could fly, Michael could make it dance on the head of a pin. His scores in the simulators are all records that are in no fear of being broken any time soon. At the conn he is fearless and flawless, however all his experience is hall been in simulators. His tactics and methods are sometimes extreme, and if he tried some his maneuvers in an actual Starfleet ship he would have been reprimanded, court marshaled and stripped of rank. He's been warned never to attempted such maneuvers in an actual federation vessel. As graduation approached Michael awaited assignment to his cadet cruise when he and eleven other cadets, all in the top 5 percent, were called to the Admiral's office. There they were told that due to circumstances they would not be joining the rest of their unit for the cadet cruise instead they would be advanced to the rank of ensign and were being sent to Deep Space 3-9 for further orders.
  13. Originally Posted By: Dawn, GMMeanwhile, back in the Harmony City Rehibiliation Facility Mental Hospital... Dr. Long shook her head warily as she backed away from Mickey. "Maybe it's time to change his medication," she murmured, unaware that he could hear her thoughts. She walked to her office, still musing over the possiblities. She was thinking so diligently that she never saw the hidden form in her office, and she had no warning when it brought her "Psychiatrist of the Year" plaque down over her head. Dr. Long tumbled bonelessly to the floor and was very still. Micheal watched her face left the view of his window. Stil lthey came en masse ,the voices the thougts of people from every where and never were they silent. Well, that's the order you think of it when you see him. It's like, 'Gee, his face sure is long. I wonder why? Oh, I see, it's to hold all that evil.' / So, let me get this straight: You think that a giant penis trumps a logical argument? / Huh! I didn't think there were this many super-people out there in this city. Heroes. She called us heroes. Ha. Like I've done anything to deserve that. / I don't care. I am wearing two pairs of tights and granny panties. / No, I don't like that water. It's too watery. I like Poland Spring. He rocked back and forth. Occasinally twitching violently and rapping his head once more against rubber wall. "HEORES! HAHAHA!!!! HEROES DOC! YOU HEAR ME?!" He yelled through the sound proof room. After moments he realized she was gone and mumbled woefully to himself. "Heroes know that things must happen, when it is time for them to happen." He giggled to himself as the tears ran from his eyes and down his soiled cheeks. "A quest may not simply be abandoned Doctor! Oh nonononono! Unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever, not forever Doc!" He curled into a ball and shoved his face into the corver to prevent any light from catching his gaze. "A happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story." In the rubber cell, as the voices of the world continued thier influx to his mind Micheal Jensen wept. Sorrowfully waiting for his hero.
  14. Originally Posted By: Dawn, GMMeanwhile, across town... Dr. Beverly Long yawned widely, the force of her sleepy expression sending her stumbling into a wall. Too much work and too little sleep were the enemy, and Dr. Long was losing to them. But she had a couple of more things to do before trying to drive home, or more likely grabbing a few hours of sleep on her couch. She'd come to work at the Harmony City Rehibiliation Facility Mental Hospital with high hopes. She knew that she was brilliant; a genius when it came to decoding the fine lines between chemical imbalances and pure psychological instability. After all, once you leaned it was chemicals, you couldtreat that with other drugs. And if it's all in their head, well that was harder to treat, yet more rewarding: to show someone the way back to mental stability. And yet for all her genius, there was one person she couldn't help. It ate at her in her quiet moments, when she was supposed to leave work behind. It was her failure, her greatest failure, and only her personal belief that the answer was there, if only she could see it kept her from giving up. The cell was ahead on the right, and though Dr. Long recognized that she was engaging in obsessive behavior, she still stopped and peered at the small monitoring screen next to the door. The huddled figure shivered on the foam mattress on the floor, the straight jacket forcing the young man's form into a long, lean shape of flesh and bone. His long hair trailed forward, shrouding his lowered face completely. Against her better judgement, Dr. Long triggered the intercom. "Mikey? How are you doing tonight?" Shivering, wide eyed and barely alert Michael Jensen thought he heard a voice. He always heard voices; they were everywhere. Three sleepless years had driven him to the brink of madness. Please stop reading up on our client. I need you to be able to do your job... It's a moral gray area. / Mmm... It smells so good in here. Doesn't it smell good in here? I love it! I just want to eat what's in my nose right now! / My son has pneumonia, but everyone else is alright. / I don't have time to read my emails. There's too much information in them. If you send me an important email give me a call to let me know I need to check it. / I can't believe you're trying to learn Spanish just so you can hook up with that waiter. / My mom says y'all are Yankees. / I wish my boobs were bigger. I can't wait until one day when I'm pregnant -- then they'll grow. / I would eat my own hand just for some fun. / Last night? I don't remember what happened last night! All I know is I woke up naked spooning with Claire! / Okay, girls, our goal for this weekend is to not end up on the Internet again. Lord only knows how far he could ‘hear’. Wriggling around on his mattress ‘Mikey’ managed to filter the electronic feminine voice through all the others. “S-s-s-s-still cr-crazy Doc… you?” He stuttered out. “Can’t… y-y-y-ou jussst k-k-k-ill me?” Tears filled his eyes from beneath his long oily hair. "KILL MEEEEE!!!" He bellowed before mixing his crying with his cries. Ugh, it has ice. I'm allergic to ice. / Really? Veggie burgers? What do they use? Like, turkey? / Yeah... If I was one of those nerdy, ugly white guys I'd be pulling mad Oriental ass. / I'm great! How's your walrus? / Oh, man, I would hate to die from constipation... I think I almost did, once. / Hey, John, look at the dolphins! You're missing them! You're missing them like you miss everything! You're just like your mother! / Mikey… I’m sorry. You know we can’t. He spasmed on his mattress tears mixing with dirt as he slammed his head repeatedly against the rubber wall.
  • Create New...