[Novgorod] Meanwhile, on the Novgorod...

[Regan Altink]

The ship was deserted. Or at least, mostly so. Aside from a few exceptions, the entire crew was on furlough for the next two hours, no doubt engaged in all manner of merrymaking and debauchery. It was incredible how swiftly a crew of otherwise responsible individuals could devolve into brutish drunkards; for many of the sentients aboard the Novgorod of course, there wasn't really that far to fall.

Not everyone had their mind set on making merry, however. One of the exceptions stalked down the corridor with dark purpose.

Regan's hand clutched the toolbox tightly. He had told his engineers that he planned to stay behind; intended to run an extremely dull diagnostic on part of the engine systems while the ship enjoyed a brief period of being stationary and powered down. It was the perfect ploy: a task so dull that even the most enthusiastic of junior engineers would not dare to volunteer their assistance. In truth however, he had something much more sinister in mind.

Regenge.

One last memorised turn brought him to the medical bay. Vek Vek would be absent; Regan had made sure to check that before he'd even left engineering. His mind curled in disgust at what the doctor's grubby, stubby fingers had done to him while he was unconscious; the thirst for vengeance that had brewed and fermented in him ever since the check-up tasted like sweet cider in his throat, and it was glorious.

His eyes settled on the hatch. Open. Lit.

A hand strayed to his tool belt, wrapping around the servowrench tucked there. For an instant he felt like Murray, grabbing whatever weapon he could find to defend himself and perhaps slay the evil beast that lurked within. Warily, he advanced across the threshold.

A mix of relief and disappointment washed over him.

"You're not Vek Vek," he helpfully observed.

[Sam Porter]

Sometimes a person had to look in the more unlikely places for supplies. Places that did not charge you for the assorted bits and pieces that you needed for whatever project you found yourself working on. It was a delicate balance, and one had to keep their eyes and ears open for every opportunity that arose.

So it stood to reason that, with the majority of the crew taking their break from duty and regulation away from the ship, Samantha Porter knew that her chance to go rummaging through the emporium of electrical wonders that was the medbay had come.

What she hadn't expected however, was the interruption of someone else. Had they had the same thought as her?

A quick glance over her shoulder, and she made a face.

Regan Altink. What in the galaxy was the Chief Engineer doing in here? It was a distinct possibility that he'd come marauding for the same reasons as she did, but there was a strange look to his face that made her have doubts about that.

Sam turned back to the microscope that she had upended, slender fingers delicately picking through wires and small circuit boards.

"I'm not the doctor, no."

[Regan Altink]

Honestly, he'd hoped her reply would be a little more revealing than it actually was. People usually took such opportunities to introduce themselves, and often to offer an excuse for the awkward circumstances in which they had been caught. Clearly, this woman did not understand her social obligations in this situation.

The irony was not lost on him of course; had he arrived a few minutes earlier, their roles in this particular social interaction would have been reversed. He would have been the one caught doing something untoward in the med bay, and he would have been the one required to explain himself. By virtue of timing however, in this instance he was not; the responsibility of explanation and introduction fell to her.

He tried to find something to say that would gently nudge her into fulfilling her social obligation. Unfortunately, You're prettier than Vek Vek was all he could come up with, and that hardly seemed appropriate under the circumstances.

His mouth seemed to not be paying attention to anything that was going on in his brain however, helpfully springing into action before the rest of his body knew what the hell was going on.

"Vek Vek drugged an' probed me during my medical exam," he explained helpfully. He made a little gesture of lifting his tool box for emphasis. "I'm here tae sabotage things an' get even wi' the weird lookin' wee bastard."

[Sam Porter]

A small bundle of multi-colored wires were yanked out with a quick jerk, and Sam replaced the bottom panel of the 'scope before turning it right-side-up and sliding it back into place.

Set atop one of the doctor's pristine and gleaming countertops was a small black carrypack, and Sam flipped the top flap open so that she could slide her new acquisitions inside.

"Revenge?"

She finally looked up, giving him a once over. She couldn't help the tiny smile tugging at her mouth - indeed, Mr. Altink looked determined.

The carrypack was pushed to the side, and Sam went on to the next bit of machinery that waited for her.

"I'll be sure not to get in your way then. Sam Porter makes it a point to keep out of personal... spats."

[Regan Altink]

Sam Porter. At last. Social obligation filled.

Though, the whole referring to yourself in the third person thing was a little bit on the creepy side, if Regan was honest. That was always the way though, wasn't it? There was some kind of fundemental law of universal physics: some mathematical relationship that equated attractiveness, craziness, and likelihood of being in conversation with Regan Altink. Unfortunately, that law meant that Regan frequently found himself surrounded by ugly people and mental patients.

"You're no' an engineer," Regan stated with some certainty. His knowledge of the Novgorod's larger crew was somewhat limited by the amount of time he spent locked away in engineering; but he was at least familiar with his own people.

The statement quickly turned into an accusation, however. The urge to fold his arms disapprovingly across his chest gripped him, but the toolbox in his hand made it impossible he settled for a mild glare instead. "So I'm guessing that, whatever y' need those parts for, it isnae legit."

[Sam Porter]

That got her attention.

It was a look of incredulous amusement that she turned to him, and Sam couldn't help the laugh that escaped her. It was obvious that he was trying to cut a stern figure, but coupled with the knowledge of his own intentions, his observation was met with no amount of actual intimidation on her part.

In a way, it was rather cute.

She grinned manically at him then.

"Oh, it's for legitimate purposes, I promise you."

She leaned on the counter, sizing him up with an expression that fairly dripped with smugness.

"Moreso than say... sabotage."

[Regan Altink]

Regan curled his nose. Sabotage was such a graceless term for the kind of creative engineering he had in store for Vek Vek and his equipment; but the fact that someone was already in the midsts of removing all of the convenient electronics disrupted his intended plans somewhat.

"I'm afraid y're mistaken, lassie," he bluffed, shrugging off her accusation, spurring his mind into action to try and concoct a new plan. "As chief engineer, it's my responsibility tae distribute the resources ae this vessel in the most efficient and effective way possible."

He waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the first few objects that came to mind.

"I'm afraid tha' the bolts in the Doctor's chair, the surge protectors in the wee light switches..."

He shrugged.

"Vitally needed tae complete repairs elsewhere on the ship. Isnae a shred of sabotage involved."

[Sam Porter]

She cast upon him a gaze that spoke volumes of her skepticism. Apparently not only was he qualified to be Chief Engineer, but a master in the art of the runaround. Though, come to think of it, she figured it was a necessary coping mechanism for any chief engineer. They probably had to take courses in school for it.

"How convenient that those particular little bits are on your shopping list ," she grinned then. There was an almost evil quality to the look on her face, save for the dancing in her eyes. She knew it. He could evade all he wanted, but after already admitting to wanting revenge on the doctor, anything said after was filtered through that delightful knowledge of one desiring retribution.

Her grin turned into a smirk, and the lanky blonde gave Regan an almost appraising look. She had to bet that he spent more time in cramped spaces than in his own quarters.

"His chair, the light switches. I bet you're going to tell me next that you'll be needing this -" Sam held up the PDA that she'd heard was the doctor's favorite little companion.

[Regan Altink]

Regan clicked his tongue, his head slowly shaking. What Porter proposed was a rookie mistake: an easy error for the novice prankster. While it was true that the sabotage of something frequently used increased the likelihood of any mischief being triggered, it also presented the greatest risk of such sabotage being discovered. When you targeted something that was used and scrutinised every day, the slghtest difference was easy to notice.

The trick was to target the mundane objects: items too benign and common to ever be given attention. People didn't notice if you tampered with light switches, because no one ever paid attention to them: they just used them, without thinking. No one ever checked the screws beneath their seat. No one ever searched inside their shoes before they put them on - not unless they'd done a few tours on wilderness planets in the military, at any rate.

"You're no' particularly good at this, are ye?" Regan pointed out with a hint of disappointment. "He's gonnae notice if tha' PDA is changed or missing pretty much as soon as he walks in."

His eyes narrowed. "And y've still no' told me why y're tamperin' wi' equipment on ma ship, an' making more work for me tae patch up in the long run."

[Sam Porter]

Deliberately ignoring his last fired question, Sam made a face before propping herself up on the pristine countertop, PDA in hand.

"Oh, I'm not so stupid as to steal this thing," she thumbed it on. "That's just asking for trouble. I mean, something like this -" she gave the little device a wave, "... could mean a lot of trouble for the poor sap who had the critical fail in good judgment to nick it."

She shook her head to punctuate her words.

"No."

Pondering the PDA she held, Sam went on in a calm and thoughtful manner, giving away the fact that she was no stranger to this sort of 'pick-n-pull' supply run.

"But its' got some very interesting information I'll wager..."

Her lips grew into a teasing smile as she ran a deft finger over the touchscreen, punching in Regan's name.

"... information about you."

[Regan Altink]

Regan's insides turned to ice.

The engineer wasn't the kind to dwell on shame all that much. There were very few things that embarassed him. It was an acquired state of mind, born out of his almost total inability to keep anything to himself, especially if there was alcohol in his system. Sure, he could keep things a secret if he had to; but he usually chose not to. Every embarassing fact, story, photograph, or injury had been retold, regailed, or brandished to just about everyone on the ship; or at least, everyone who'd been in the mess last Tuesday. And that was fine. To his knowledge, there was absolutely nothing left in the universe with the power to make him uncomfortable.

To his knowledge.

Therein lay the problem. So focused had he been at the prospect of vengeance that he'd completely neglected to consider the opportunity for intelligence gathering. This entire expedition was born out of his anger at the unknown violations that the Doctor had inflicted upon him; but in Sam Porter's hands lay the slim possibility of an end to the mystery. More than that, therein lay evidence. Such things were formidable assets in a war like this. There was only one hands.

In Sam Porter's hands also lay the very real possibility of abject humiliation. Regan simply didn't know: and that was almost worse than anything the Doctor might have done.

Regan's jaw clenched, trying to stop the calm insistance of his voice from turning into a threat, and mostly failing. "Give it t'me. Now."

[Sam Porter]

Sam only gave the Chief Engineer a sideways smirk. It was the devil's smile she flashed to him, and one that silently informed him that no, he'd most certainly not be getting the PDA. It was a measured expression of evil, dastardly teasing, and one that she'd perfected over many years.

"Actually, I don't think so."

Thumbing through the preliminary information on Mr. Altink, Sam was mindful enough to sidle away from the man, putting just that much more distance between them in case he decided to try something... desperate. He had the sort of shine to his eyes that told her men in his current situation would try most anything.

"You're a Hrumph."

There was an almost whimsical tone to her voice.

"You've got a stubborn look to you; makes sense."

Sweeping away from the countertop to stand up straighter, Sam made sure to keep one eye on him.

"Now this is interesting... "

She watched him carefully, her gaze taking in every facial tick and involuntary twitch of his fingers.

Her grin grew from ear to ear.