"It is most certainly not living tissue."
You knew that was probably the most useless thing you could say given the situation. Of course it wasn't living tissue; you were in freaking space. Y'know, a vacuum. Where all living things would die if they were left without protection. And by protection, you meant spacesuits. But, given who your captain was, you honestly couldn't be bothered to be any more helpful. You sighed, looking away from the scope and towards the blond man lounging in the captain's chair, surrounded by McDonalds bags. How he managed to get McDonalds this far into unexplored space, you did not know. Though then again, given his record, you wouldn't be surprised if he'd had a restaurant installed onboard jut for this mission. You groaned inwardly; why couldn't you have been assigned to the U.S.S Republic instead of here? Your best friend had been sent there, the lucky bastard, and was probably enjoying a smooth ride under the command of Captain Kirkland. You, on the other hand, were here, on the Lethargy, the crummiest ship in the fleet, under the command of an idiot who wasn't even able to take control of a herd of pet rocks.Dead pet rocks.
"So what do you think it is then?" he asked, grinning widely, his blue eyes glinting . You didn't like this at all; he looked far suspicious with that expression. You shuddered slightly, trying to distract yourself. It was the way he was only looking at you that creeped you out, the fact that he was paying attention to you and you alone. to you and you alone. You would have done anything to get him to look away, so you breathed out prayers of relief to almost every god you knew when one of the communications officers brought him up another useless piece of paperwork to sign. 'Paperwork' being an outdated term, of course, given that it looked more like a mutated iPad. God, an iPad. And they dared to call this the 23rd Century! You tutted to yourself, quietly though, careful not to bring any attention to yourself. Your 'captain' had a short attention span, so if you kept still he might not notice you again.
That, much to your dismay, didn't work. You turned back to the scope, trying to ignore the fact that your oh so wonderfully adept Captain's gaze was following your every move, focusing on one part of your anatomy. You flushed; this was beyond rude, even if you did happen to be bent over to look through the scope, even if he did have much less of a sex life than other captains and even if the absolute idiot who designed these uniforms had made the trousers a little on the tight side. You had to look on the bright side though; at least you weren't one of the female members of the crew. Walking around in skirts that short just didn't look comfortable. You added that to your list of things to do once you finished your tour of duty; find the person who made these uniforms and beat the shit out of them.
"So, Mr. Sock, do you have any idea what it actually is?"
You sighed. Almost four months and he still hadn't twigged who you were. "Sir, I'm not Mr. Sock. Mr. Sock had an unfortunate run in with a sentient gas cloud on Delta Vega Three, after you persuaded him to wear an engineering shirt because his actual uniform was in the wash. I'm the new head of science, Commander [Surname]. And I have absolutely no idea."
He grinned even wider, if that was possible, the blond cowlick at the top of his head bouncing slightly as he nodded. Obviously, he hadn't noticed that you'd actually answered his question. You felt a twinge of panic run through you; the only thing worse than being under the worst commander in history was serving under the worst commander in history, who just so happened to have a thing for you. He leant forward slightly, almost like he was daring you to make a move. "So Mr. [Surname], when actually were you assigned to the Lethargy? I don't remember you being here."
Obviously, your earlier tactics of hiding whenever anybody important walked past had worked. In fact, nobody would actually have known you even existed if you hadn't been forced to take this post. Another thing to do once you finished here; find the twats from Science who persuaded you to take it. But, for now, the only thing you could do was sigh and answer. And, again, look on the bright side; since you'd taken the plunge and somebody actually knew of your existence, there was no reason for you to avoid speaking up so that nobody would know about you. And since there was nothing to stop you speaking up, if you complained enough the cafeteria might end up serving something other than quadrotriticale.
"I was assigned here at the start of the voyage Captain Ameri- I-I mean Jones," you stammered, hastily correcting yourself towards the end. Predictably, said captain didn't seem to notice, instead pulling himself out of his chair and walking towards you, gesturing that he wanted to get to the scope. You were about to move, but, as it turned out, he actually wanted you to look again, given that he was practically pinning you to the station. And he obviously though your scientific observations would be more informative if he stood right behind you, far, far too close for comfort. You gulped, trying to think of a way to escape from the situation. Unfortunately, your many qualifications did not include anything about how to react when your commander was hitting on you. So you just stood there in silence, waiting for somebody else to say something.
"Do y'think it's gas? Energy?"
Gritting your teeth, you answered. "I'm not sure, but I think my work would be easier if I was given a little more space to breathe Captain."
"Call me Al."
What followed was probably the most awkward silence you would ever experience. In fact, it was so awkward, you were almost thankful for the next words said on the bridge. Words that you never, ever thought you'd be glad about.
"There's Klingons on the Starboard bow!"
If you hadn't known that everybody on the bridge would stare at you for doing so, you would have sunk to your knees and given your thanks to the heavens.