<div class="floatleft">(https://m.media-amazon.com/images/M/MV5BYmVkMWFjOGItOWI1NS00YTRmLTgwYTQtMmE2OWE5YjFjNzkzXkEyXkFqcGdeQXVyMjk3NTUyOTc@._V1_.jpg)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Master Chief Petty Officer Alison Coles<br/><strong>Location</strong>: FDR Facility 39 > Transporter Station<br/><br/><strong>Condition</strong>: Healthy (No Stress, No Injuries)<br/><strong>Attributes:</strong>Control 10 | Daring 9 | Fitness 11 | Insight 8 | Presence 10 | Reason 8<br/><strong>Disciplines:</strong>Command 4 | Conn 4 | Engineering 2 | Medicine 1 | Science 1 | Security 4<br/><br/><strong>Talents:</strong>Resolute, Bold: Security, Crisis Management, Fly-by<br/><strong>Equipment:</strong>Uniform, Communicator, Phaser<br/><strong>Notes</strong>: N/A<br/><br/><hr/>After several minutes Alison was able to get into the lower tier security options.<strong>"Finally!  It's not ideal but might be able to shed some more light on what the fuck is going on here."</strong>It was not professional, but while Alison might look like some holo-vid actress, she did, to quote an old Earth euphemism, "swear like a sailor", though she did only do so when not in the presence of the Officers of the ship.  She gave a small shake of her head, and pulled up as much footage from the security monitors as the system would let her.