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Description
Depression Station

     "Red Alert! Pressurized containment field at critical. Decks thirty-five through thirty-seven commence emergency evacuation procedures for Gamma-Radiation fire."
     The command deck 'C' was charged with emergency situations just like this. Lately they have had their work cut out for them, already with eight-teen false alarms this month.
     "Sir, containment crews report no fire!"
     "Sorry I'm late, what did I miss?" the XO (Executive Officer, or second in command) Sam Weatherly asked as he ran through the security doors.
     "Not much, it's another false alar-" the COD (Captain of the Deck) John Patrick tried to say until the alert system blared again, cutting him off. "Will somebody shut that thing up!"
     "...at critical. Deck- Red Alert deactivated." The alarm sounded.
     "Thank you!"
     "Um... sir?" one of the new recruits monitoring the alarm system asked. "I didn't turn it off..."
     The room went silent.
     "It's probably nothing, carry on." The XO said, after noticing everyone in the room staring at the man. The XO and the COD walked over to him.
     "What's your name, son?"
     "Private first class William H. Mackenzie, Sir!"
     "At ease. How long have you been here?" John asked.
     "Manning this station, that is," Sam added, after noticing the puzzled face on the Private. 'John must have forgotten that most of us grew up on this ship, and have never left it in our lives.' Sam thought.
     "Well, about two days sir. Is this normal? Did I do something wrong? Am I going to get fired?!" The Private began to get really stressed out, which was more than obvious to the rest of the crew on that deck, as his voice kept getting louder and shakier.
     "Private, get a hold of yourself! You're not going to get fired, and I don't believe this is your fault." John said, trying to calm him down.
     "Sir," Sam whispered to him, "what else could it be? We haven't had a malfunction like this in years, maybe there is a saboteur-"
     "Shut up! There will be no talk of that on here, and do you really think this fifteen year old boy could sabotage a ship as big as-" John began, until he realized he was no longer whispering. The Private began to cry.
     "Now look what you've done!" Sam yelled. "Look, he didn't mean it that way; he meant it as... uh..."
     "No, it's not that." The private tried to say, almost chocking on his own tears. "I don't know why I'm doing this... I... I... Uh I don't fee-" The COD rushed over to the COM (Communications System) and pulled a switch.
     "Deck 'C' to Sick Bay, Medical Emergency, we need a medic down here quick!"

Description
Depression Station

     "Red Alert! Pressurized containment field at critical. Decks thirty-five through thirty-seven commence emergency evacuation procedures for Gamma-Radiation fire."
     The command deck 'C' was charged with emergency situations just like this. Lately they have had their work cut out for them, already with eight-teen false alarms this month.
     "Sir, containment crews report no fire!"
     "Sorry I'm late, what did I miss?" the XO (Executive Officer, or second in command) Sam Weatherly asked as he ran through the security doors.
     "Not much, it's another false alar-" the COD (Captain of the Deck) John Patrick tried to say until the alert system blared again, cutting him off. "Will somebody shut that thing up!"
     "...at critical. Deck- Red Alert deactivated." The alarm sounded.
     "Thank you!"
     "Um... sir?" one of the new recruits monitoring the alarm system asked. "I didn't turn it off..."
     The room went silent.
     "It's probably nothing, carry on." The XO said, after noticing everyone in the room staring at the man. The XO and the COD walked over to him.
     "What's your name, son?"
     "Private first class William H. Mackenzie, Sir!"
     "At ease. How long have you been here?" John asked.
     "Manning this station, that is," Sam added, after noticing the puzzled face on the Private. 'John must have forgotten that most of us grew up on this ship, and have never left it in our lives.' Sam thought.
     "Well, about two days sir. Is this normal? Did I do something wrong? Am I going to get fired?!" The Private began to get really stressed out, which was more than obvious to the rest of the crew on that deck, as his voice kept getting louder and shakier.
     "Private, get a hold of yourself! You're not going to get fired, and I don't believe this is your fault." John said, trying to calm him down.
     "Sir," Sam whispered to him, "what else could it be? We haven't had a malfunction like this in years, maybe there is a saboteur-"
     "Shut up! There will be no talk of that on here, and do you really think this fifteen year old boy could sabotage a ship as big as-" John began, until he realized he was no longer whispering. The Private began to cry.
     "Now look what you've done!" Sam yelled. "Look, he didn't mean it that way; he meant it as... uh..."
     "No, it's not that." The private tried to say, almost chocking on his own tears. "I don't know why I'm doing this... I... I... Uh I don't fee-" The COD rushed over to the COM (Communications System) and pulled a switch.
     "Deck 'C' to Sick Bay, Medical Emergency, we need a medic down here quick!"