<USS Avalon> Behind the Scenes - Part 2 - Manky

Behind the Scenes - Part 2 - Manky
By Petty Officers Travis Summers, Shylicia Nitey, and Sybel Reinaulds
"Ew, well that was just manky! Totally minging! YUCK!" Sybel Reinaulds flung 
herself into a seat in the Support Services lounge. "Some disgusting, foul 
ensign just left the most disgusting foul mess in the dining hall. I'm just not 
going to describe it to you. Manky, that's all I'm going to say." 
"Yeah, Syb, we heard you, okay?" Travis Summers said, sighing into his 
coffee. 

"Well, what do they think we are? Bloody civvies? It's just manky! That's 
what it is!" 

"Yeah Syb, manky, we get it. Honest," he said, trying to placate her. They 
always got this tyrade, every time she came back from her shift, she'd found 
something new to complain about the officers. 

"That's exactly it!" cried Shylicia. "They got no respect. If it weren't for 
us, the ship wouldn't run at all." 

Oh God, thought Travis, please don't start her off. We won't here the end of 
it now. 

"And all this goings on! I was minding my own business, vacuuming the hall 
and there was this banging and crashing from one of the rooms. When I asked if 
there was something wrong I got screamed at that their door wouldn't open," Syb 
said as she settled into her chair and pulled out a packet of squashed 
cigarettes. "I mean, what could I do? I just said that he might like to try 
pressing 
the open button." She tapped the end of her cigarette on the side of its box. 
"He wasn't happy with that at all, but, I mean, these officers, they've not 
the sense they were born with." She tutted and lifted the lighter to the end of 
her ciggy. 

Travis squirmed in his seat and pointed a finger at Sybel. "You can't light 
that in here!" 

"Eh?" 

"It's a non-smoking zone. You can't light that in here. You'll have to wait 
till you get to your room and smoke it there." 

"Well bloody hell!" she swore but slid the cigarette back in its box and the 
box back in her pocket. She blew out a violent breath and thrust to her feet. 
Slumping over to the replicator, she ordered coffee and then threw herself 
back in her seat. 
"Anybody seen Christina today?" Stertis asked.
"Sick leave," Shylicia tutted. "That girl, I swear. She gets knocked up moreâ
n any gal I ever did see. This is like her third kid in five years. What she 
doing joining the âFleet if she jusâ gonna take all the time in maternity 
leave, leavinâ her work for us to do?" Her braids rattled as she shook her 
head.
Absently, Sybel reached for her packet of cigarettes again. "Well, you know 
what I say on that particular subject," she said, leering slightly. "If she 
can't keep her legs closed..."
"Yes," cried Travis, "thanks Syb, we don't want to know."
"Law law, I know 'xactly what you mean," Shylicia chimed in. "C'mon girl, 
let's take us a break - go back ta our room. These men ain't no good for 
gossipinâ
. Did you hear what happened to that Commander Manson? This yeoman was 
tellin' me all 'bout it earlier. I wondered what happened in that turbolift we 
had 
to clean up." She stood and gestured for Sybel to follow.
"Mm-hmm, I could kill for a ciggy." Sybel slipped one out of its packet as 
she rose and poked it into the corner of her mouth. "I had to used a gallon of 
that orange cleaner on that lift, y'know. Cor, it can right remove the stains. 
All that blood, if you'd asked me before hand if it could get that much blood 
out I'd have bet my life that it wouldn't..." Her voice trailed away as the 
two women wandered out of the lounge.

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