OOC: Pssst. Federation. PCG hasn't been founded yet, this is what convinces the federation it's needed.
-==IC: Security==-
"Teriffic. Must have been, what, an hour after we left? We might have set a new record for fastest call for security in the Federation."
A few minutes later, med teams had cleared most of the injured crew out. Guinan had organized the cadets into teams helping the medics patch up those with only minor injuries. Just then, Pavlov walked in with T'Sing.
As Pavlov entered the lounge, he nearly tripped over a microphone embedded half an inch in the floor. T’Sing raised an eyebrow as he spotted two women restrained by security personnel: one with red hair, and one with hair of golden blonde.
“Chief O’Really. Commander Williams. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Mr. T’Sing. As thorough as your record stated. So nice to see you in person, instead of issuing orders over the comm.”
“It is…regrettable that we meet under such circumstances, Commander. The same goes for you, Chief O’Really.”
“Please, Lieutenant-Commander, call me Kiro.”
O’Really’s seductive tone finally brought Pavlov out of his stupor. “Right. Uh…can someone explain what happened here?”
“I can,” Guinan said as she stepped out from behind the heavily dented bar. The regular bartender hung limp over it with a huge lump on his forehead. Guinan, in contrast, had not a hair out of place. “Commander Williams went on-stage for karaoke—”
Guinan paused, and a moment later the doors opened. Both of the other women groaned—it was the last person they wanted to see.
Captain Flipz.
