1 - Bathed in a sea of tribbles

"Computer, where's the Captain?" Rita Paris asked, tapping her comm badge as she stood outside the turbolift on Deck 24.

=^=Captain Telvan is in her quarters on Deck 8=^=

Pressing the button to summon the lift, Paris reviewed her proposal and walked herself through the opening a few times just to see if it sounded insane or just crazy. As the lift arrived she continued this reviewing and editing process in her head as she strode forward to officer country. Coming out onto the outer edge of the curved corridor, Paris noticed something odd on one of the walls. A puffball, seemingly clinging there in defiance of gravity.

"Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me..." she asked of the universe as she moved in to inspect the grapefruit-sized brown furry mass.

It trilled soothingly in her direction, prompting her to reach out to pick it up.

"Ohhh no no no, you're just holographic, so you- I got work to do," the leggy lieutenant grumbled as she pointed accusingly at the adorable furball. As she pressed on toward the captain's quarters, she ran into more tribbles... dozens of them, in fact. They were starting to pile up in doorways, and there were even a few on the observation ports.

"Aw, c'mon, not a tribble infestation...!" Paris started sprinting down the corridor to the captain's quarters, the tribbles becoming more plentiful the closer she approached.

As she approached the Captain's door, she found it wedged open with the vast amount of tribbles simply flowing out of it into the hall. From inside could be heard the muffled sound of a woman loudly cursing, followed by the sharp sting of a phase pistol being discharged. Then more cursing as it apparently had no effect.

"Captain Telvan? You in there, ma'am?" Rita called from the corridor, and hearing a muffled reply, she rolled her eyes skyward and sighed. She knew what had to be done, she just wasn't excited to do it. Taking a deep breath, the hard-luck heroine tapped her comm badge then called out to the computer.

"Computer, replicate and beam a hundred pounds of wheat grain with no container here in the corridor next to me." While it might seriously count against her replicator rations, Rita figured she would deal with that later. For now, as a large pile of grain shimmered into existence next to her, making her take a step back nervously, Paris hatched her plan.

"Gonna get you two out of there ma'am, just bear with me!" the leggy lieutenant called out before scooping up a handful of grain and tossing it at the doorway overflowing with tribbles. Tossing a few more handfuls, she kicked the pile with her black chunky-heeled explorer's boots, spreading it across the corridor a bit even as the tribbles, sensing food, began rolling over one another to get at the grain. When she could see some of the ceiling over the tribble pile, the unconventionally uniformed underdog took a few steps back, then took a running start to dive into the doorway, trying to swim the sea of tribbles.

"Captain? Mrs. Telvan?" Paris called out, hoping that her navigational skill would enable her to get the couple back out of here once she located them.

Enalia did her best to make her way through the tightly packed sea of tribbles towards the voice calling to her, but it was slow going from across the room. At least it seemed they were a little less tightly packed now at least. "I'm over here!" she called out, trying to yell over the cacophonous cooing of the multitudinous tribble symphony all around her.

As she did her best to body surf the dense mass of purring and cooing little lifeforms beneath her, Paris started talking. It would give the Captain something to hone in on, and it might keep her focused enough to resist the soothing vibrations and sounds that the tribbles were producing. "So I guess you still have tribbles in this day and age, huh? I hadn't looked them up because I figured either someone figured out how to neuter them and make safe pets out of them or they all got wiped out by the Klingons by now."

"You still with me Captain?" Paris started to call out for Mrs. Telvan and debated calling her by her first name, then she remembered the captain's wife was holographic as well. Given the current crisis, she might not exactly be in any shape to answer right at this moment. Bringing it up probably wasn't the best of ideas either.

Was that Rita? Asking about tribbles? "Yeah, the Klingons almost did but we brought them back! And yeah, there's a neutered variety! Have to be registered though!" It seemed like she was only a few feet away, so if she could just stretch out through the tribble-sea...

Hearing the captain's voice, the lost navigator changed course, working toward the sound. "Well, that makes a lot of sense, ma'am. Hey, I'm just glad I'm not going to be blamed for this one. I definitely did not bring tribbles with me from the past, I promise!" Distributing her weight across the tribbles was enabling her to stay on top of them and move, but the tribbles were also filling in behind her, which was going to make this more challenging. "Stay with me Cap'n, I'll get you out of here!"

Of course, Paris had no idea just how she was going to accomplish that feat, but diving in and making it up as she went along was something of her specialty, and she was doing so literally in this case. "For the love of phloog, where the hell is she? Stupid stadium quarters," the plucky explorer muttered.

Enalia reached out again, this time grasping something that was round but wasn't furry and hanging on. "I think that's you! That is you, right? Not some other holographic glitch? Please tell me that's you and not my wife!" The last thing Enalia needed was another issue with the emitters with this going on. It didn't feel like her wife so hopefully her system hadn't gone completely haywire yet at least. Squeezing a bit she couldn't tell though. The volume and elasticity was amazingly close, if it wasn't her.

"Ah, yes ma'am, that's, ah, that's me all right," Paris muttered, marveling at just how the captain had instinctively managed to latch onto one of the two parts of her anatomy that in the dark might genuinely be mistaken for Maica Telvan. Taking the wrist of the seeking and probing hand, Rita tried prying it loose, but the captain had a grip like a drowning woman. Eh, what did it matter as long as she accomplished her mission, she decided. Maybe they would have a good laugh about this later, assuming married Orion dancer girls weren't the vindictive type.

"Come on Captain, let's get you out of here," Paris boldly declared with a confidence she did not truly posses, looking for the tops of doorways she had been using as landmarks on the way into the specious quarters so that she could reverse direction. Tugging at the wrist she had hold of, Paris began trying to turn about atop the sea of furry trilling lifeforms that threatened to bury them both. Rolling onto her back kept her from going under while she insistently tugged, trying to drag the captain to the 'surface of the furry sea of tribbles. "We probably need something for leverage to get you on top of them, ma'am."

"Thank you!" Enalia didn't want to let go, but she forced herself to and hang on to Rita's wrist instead. It wasn't her wife, after all. "When we get out of here, I owe you a drink!" Trying to swim through the sea of tribbles was no easy task, but with two of them it was a bit easier and the door was open now, letting a considerable number of the furry troublemakers out of her quarters. She just hoped they hadn't made too much of a mess. She knew the fecal matter was holographic, but she was more worried about broken artifacts and irreplaceable items that she had collected and chosen to keep on the Hera rather than sent back home. They were also trying to eat the furniture and drapes, holographic or not. The little guttersnipes had even taken a few bites out of her uniform.

Hauling the captain out of the worst tribble infestation she’d ever seen, Rita decided humor was the way to deal with this. “Remember, in case of a tribble crash landing, Lieutenant Paris may be used as a flotation device,” she quipped as she lay on her back atop the pile of purring and trilling furballs, trying to use her body as a platform for the captain to gain leverage. In doing so, even with the limited amount of her uniform she could see from this angle, Paris realized the little biters were making her uniform look as though it had been hanging in a closet being attacked by moths for the past 130 years.

Trying to swim through the sea of tribbles, Enalia felt a tearing sensation as part of her uniform gave out. Apparently they had eaten enough of it that it was now falling apart at the seams. "I think I'm going to need more than a flotation device," she replied, as she clung to Rita. They weren't too far from the door at least. Unfortunately, she was only wearing the top half... Another tearing sound... And there went the rest of her uniform...

“So I’m guessing that I’m… hey, get outta there you little critters! Guessing that I’m not going to get in trouble for a uniform violation today, ma’am,” Paris quipped as she backstroked quite literally out of her uniform, the hungry tribbles apparently deciding that velour and polyester were on the menu if there was nothing else to eat. She hadn’t managed to get the Captain completely out of the mass of furry little adorable aliens just yet, but she had at least prevented her from smothering to death as they struggled toward the exit.

"Now isn't the time for that, Rita! They just ate my undies!" Enalia relied, trying to at least keep some shred of dignity as she swam towards the door on the warm, trilling, fluffy ocean of tribbles. "My wife gave me those! They weren't replicated!"

"I promise I'll provide an alibi, ma'am," Paris grunted as she finally made it to the exit, only to find the door closed. "Hold my boot please, ma'am," the the hourglass heroine ordered as she braced one foot on the ceiling while the rest of her dove for the door controls. The captain now knew her grooming preferences, but Rita figured they were a ways past modesty here. Fumbling blind in the mass of furry lifeforms, the lost navigator's hands slid along and probed the wall until she found the door chime. As she tabbed it, the door slid open, bearing both Rita and the captain along on a wave of trilling furry creatures.

Looking around, with the feel of the cool tile and the fixtures, Paris realized she'd managed to get turned around, and they were now in the captain's bathroom. Flopping over onto her back, the sweaty starship pilot took a moment to gather herself. Swimming tribbles was not like water at all, and now her boots were nearly gone as well. So it was she and the captain sprawled on the floor of the captain's quarters bathroom, both panting for breath as their sweat-soaked bodies had bits of tribble fur sticking to them.

"Well, if we're here, I'm guessing you know the way to the front door from here, ma'am?" Eyeing the naked captain's athletic build, Rita figured it was time to take a chance and break the mood. She gave the captain a once over, and smirked. "So the spots really do go all the way down..."

Enalia shrugged of the scraps of her silk bra and looked herself over, then checked Rita for obvious injuries. While she too was top heavy, she was no match for the voluptuous human with her, who had surprising core definition. Despite her curves, which appeared to be based in bone structure rather than fat placement, Rita seemed to have a runner's build. Except for her high-set breasts which looked suspiciously surgically developed, save that Enalia had felt one, and it still felt natural. "They do, and tribble fur makes them itch. At least Maica should be safe. She retreated into her core unit until we're out of this storm."

"So that's a good thing," Paris guessed. Another question to ask her photonic psychiatrist sometime in the future, but for now it sounded like the captain's wife was safe. Bracing herself against the sink, the leggy lieutenant levered herself to her feet, than leaned against the vanity counter to remove her boots. As she pulled off the remains of the chunky-heeled explorer's boots from her era, tribbles were still clinging to them, gnawing away at the synthleather like adorable piranhas.

"Thex told me to beam my entire uniform, everything I owned, into the replicator. Good thing," Paris observed as her stomach growled loudly. Holding up one finger, Rita fished the three tribbles in the sink out and ran some water, bending over to drink from the faucet in a rather unladylike fashion. She drank for a good 12 seconds before standing back up and wiping the back of her mouth with her hand.

"Confession, Captain?" Without waiting for assent, the naked navigator shifted her weight to one hip and started talking, illustrating with her left hand as her right draped on her hip like an unaware pinup model. "Food already tastes off here... I haven't said anything, but most things have a tang to them, like chewing aluminum foil. In a dark matter ion storm where the holographics are going haywire because of dark matter short-circuits in the ship's computer, I don't care. I'm not eating anything that comes out of those replicators until we're clear."

Having said that, Paris' stomach burbled again and she self-consciously covered it with her hand. "So, ah, which way to the exit from your lavoratory, ma'am?"

"When we did our slingshot maneuver back to the 2160s my tastebuds were off as well. Everything tasted like copper for days. Let's hope your taste corrects itself in time. For now..." Opening up the cabinet behind the mirror, Enalia pulled out a ration bar and handed it to Rita. "Pirate rations. Better than Fleet rations. As for the exit... It's just past the bedroom and to the right. The tribbles seem to have eaten the room divider though, so there's no way to tell where the bedroom ends."

Enalia then looked down and realized something else. Her weapon belt wasn't around her waist anymore. "Shit! The little cocksuckers ate my holster! My phase pistol is somewhere in that mess!"

The hungry helmsman's eyes lit up at the ration bar, and she had the wrapper torn and the corner of it in her mouth before the captain had finished describing it to her. Chewing rapturously, Paris sighed, then covered her mouth since she was talking with her mouth full. "All of these scenarios and situations the computer has been putting out- it's like it is trying to see how we react to certain stimuli. I think the storm might be studying us, ma'am. It's a silly theory, but it's a big universe in my experience and silly is sometimes true."

Swallowing, the Starfleet siren continued. "Using a phaser on a mass of tribbles does mow them down, but the disintegrated mass is just filled in again by more of them. And it runs the phaser out of charge quickly doing a wide beam that powerful, so that must be why the scenario stole it." Pausing to look first herself then the captain over, Rita shrugged comically. "Why it wanted us to end up naked in your bathroom, I got nothing. But it must have some rat maze it wants us to run here, some way we can outsmart this."

Snapping her fingers, a light went on in Rita's eyes. "The transporters! We can use the transporters on holographic tribbles because if they transfer dimensions in the ion storm it's irrelevant, they're holographic! Yes?"

Thinking things over a bit more, one hand on her hip and one hand tapping her chin, Enalia hatched a bit of a plan. "No, the transporters can't target holographics without specialized pattern enhancers and even then it would just dissolve the hologram. What we need is something to disrupt the emitters, even for a moment. the system is based around one core emitter in the pylon and micro-emitters scattered around every room of the ship. Most showers, turbolifts, and maintenance crawl-ways don't have them though. The core emitter covers them well enough as well as the surface of the hull."

Grinning wickedly, the well toned Captain turned to the leggy Navigator. So then we force the system to transfer this program from the micro-emitters to the core emitter. To the hull of the ship. I just need..." Looking around the bathroom, she tried to find the hidden maintenance panel for the holographic systems that her wife had been tied into so she could appear across the ship.

"Here it is." Prying the panel open, she immediately unplugged a red and green coupler that looked very out of place. "That's one of my wife's data links. We don't want her disrupted. Now then... This area is local control and monitor, while this area is all core matrix relays. Now I just need some sort of tools..."

As if on cue, Paris produced a pair of metal ‘bobby pins’ from her hair. While her hairstyle did not seem to need them at all, still she pulled them seemingly out of nowhere. “They’ll strip you of weapons and strip off your clothes, but you would be genuinely surprised how many times Sonak would end up getting us out of a jam because I still had a few hair pins…” Cheerfully she handed them over to the curvaceous captain.

Taking the pins, Enalia grinned like a vivver cat. "Perfect. Can you grab my sonic toothbrush as well? I might be able to use it as a screwdriver." Leaning in to the panel, she started working on it with the bobby pins, more often than not getting rather negative sounds from the console, but sometimes getting normal sounds as well, which was encouraging.

Handing off the sonic device, the nubile naked navigator eyed the pile-up of tribbles filling the doorway. “Not to be a nag, ma’am, but our opponent is definitely putting in overtime trying to drown us in soft, cuddly furballs. Anything else I can do to speed this along?” As she lacked the technical skill to help with the hotwiring, Rita started scooping armfuls of the tribbles up and tossing them into the shower stall to buy them some space and time to work. "Those also serve who shovel tribbles," she muttered.

As the Captain's shower had micro-emitters, the tribbles remained. After all, she was married to a photonic life form so obviously she'd want to shower with her. "I almost have it I think... I just need to... With one more press, and shoving the toothbrush into the relays on high, she stepped back and hoped it worked. "It might get a little cold in here for a few seconds. I rerouted the life support to the holo relays."

With a building high pitched whine and a blast of cold air from the life support vents, several sparks shot out from the panel, causing the tribbles to flicker for a moment before vanishing. Enalia then reached out and clicked the toothbrush off, preventing further damage to the system. Glancing out of the bathroom, she saw all the tribbles floating outside the bedroom window. And that, holographic or not, they had indeed eaten most of her quarters.

"Well, Maica was wanting to redecorate anyway..." the semi-marsupial Trill commented glumly as she headed towards her now abandoned NX era phase pistol and spare cartridges, scooping them up. "She's going to love hearing how this happened..."

“I’ll be happy to provide an alibi ma’am,” Paris offered, looking around at the ruined, seemingly eaten quarters. “Assuming the two of us standing around like this isn’t going to get you in more trouble.” Given her experiences with green-skinned Orion women so far, Rita most definitely did not want the captain’s wife on the warpath over her and the captain creatively wrestling atop a pile of tribbles buck naked.

“I should probably see about replicating a uniform, come to think of it… or at least some underwear…” Paris muttered, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious as she considered Maica Telvan chasing her around with one of those big needles with the poison tip. Plus there was the way that the captain was checking her out, which definitely lent credence to that ‘angry wife trying to kill the blonde’ syndrome Paris had gotten a bit used to over the years. She tried not to lead people on, but tastes were tastes, her curves were what they were and biology was going to have its sway.

"Yeah, I'll have to make it up to her somehow. She'll be jealous I got to see you naked before her. It's also best to tell the truth. She's too good at telling when people are lying." Enalia then set her phase pistol on the remains of her dresser and snapped her fingers. "As soon as this is over you need to schedule a full nude spa treatment with her. She's the ship's masseuse, after all. Promise?"

“Ah… uhhh… “ Just as Rita thought things were awkward, the captain cranked it up to 11. A full body blush started, discussing taking a full body massage with the captain’s wife. And how she’d be mad that she didn’t get this chance to see Rita in the altogether. In truth, the curvaceous cosmonaut could probably use a real massage, given that her life of late had been stress compounded by more stress compounded by internal anxiety and life-or-death pressure. And her usual method of stress relief was now forever denied her, as Sonak was lost to the past, a hundred years and a few dimensions away. Which in turn reminded her of her rather strong and active libido that she’d been working hard to ignore since arriving on the Hera. Realizing that the captain was still watching her expectantly as Rita worked out her internal process, the neurotic nubile navigator smiled, a somewhat uncharacteristically bashful expression on her face as she squirmed a bit.

“Ah, sure, ma’am…” Paris squeaked out. “I could, um, do that, I guess, if you want…”

"Excellent! I know she'll be excited. Now about some clothes. I don't have any of your patterns loaded locally, but I think my wife's clothes should fit you almost perfectly and she has some cosplay items you might like." Picking up a PaDD with a few teeth marks, Enalia scrolled through it and tapped a few buttons. "This should at least work until you get back to your own quarters," Enalia added as the bedroom clothing replicator started humming, producing a silk replica of a red Enterprise-A era female miniskirt uniform... But as a robe obviously built for Maica. It even included some knee high silk boots.

“Well, this is interesting,” Rita observed as she wrapped the robe about her and tied it off. “They certainly went in another direction after our uniforms… not bad, even if they are a little more military-minded than in my day.” Leaning against the wall, she worked the silk boots on so that she wouldn’t be caught barefooted in the forty paces between her quarters and the captain’s. Besides, she had the sneakiest suspicion that the captain was watching her get dressed, which, while still awkward, Rita had to admit it was nice to be considered attractive by someone. In this enlightened day and age with so many exotic lifeforms on board, Rita had been feeling about as sexy as a comm panel of late, she realized.

“Good enough to cross officer country?” Rita asked, spinning in place to make the hem of the robe twirl out a bit. The silken fabric did basically nothing to hide anything, instead putting it all on display quite boldly. But as a blonde, Rita looked good in red, and as her figure and that of the captain’s wife were remarkably similar, it fit precisely the way that it was supposed to- tight, clingy and revealing.

With one hand on her hip and still buck ass nude, Enalia licked her finger and pantomimed touching Rita, making a sizzling sound. "Hot as a Talaxian chili cook-off and twice as tasty. If you like spicy food, look up some of the dishes in the replicator's menus under the name Neelix. He has quite a few vegetarian dishes in there. Bajoran hasperat is good too. It's a spicy vegetable roll." Sighing, she just shook her head. "And now you've got me hungry, running around naked like this... Go on, get out of here or I'll have to talk you into a three way with my wife and I. I'm going to take a quick shower, get dressed and head back to the bridge as soon as I get some rations in me."

“Hahaha!” Rita laughed nervously. “That’s a good one, ma’am…” she started, then she realized from the captain’s expression that she wasn’t joking.

A career in a short skirt in Starfleet had gotten Rita accustomed to being hit on by most anything that walked on two legs, which she had learned to take in stride. When it came to a gal built like her, after all, everyone assumed was sleeping her way up in the ranks and that such a woman was of loose moral virtue. While she was no prude, Rita was in fact very selective about whom she slept with, and in her own day she’d had to guard her reputation fiercely. After all, one could not be a flirt then be a prude, but one also did not wish to become known as the ship’s gymnasium, where everyone got a workout sooner or later.

But here in this place and time so very far from all that she knew, cut off from her past with a future that was not exactly rosy, being clearly propositioned by her female commanding officer and invited to a threesome with said commanding officer’s exotic wife was not something she had expected at all, and she found herself in one of those rarest of occasions- tongue tied and unable to form a clever, witty or even a reasonable response.

“Ummm… ahhh…I, uh…” the old school officer stammered, turning a red not quite as bright as her borrowed cover-up, but edging close. She didn’t want to offend the Captain, but she also did not know how to process the invitation, either. Stuck between a rock and a hard place- a come-on from the captain, a lady captain no less, was a dangerous proposition to refuse or accept, and in that moment of exhaustion Rita simply didn’t know what to do. Which was when her inner officer came to her rescue.

“The graviton generators!” she blurted out. “I had, I have an idea to, uhm, use the generators, the ah, the graviton generators to generate anti-gravity and push the cloud back so that we can form a menage- ah, form a um a way to repel the dark matter so that we can form a warp bubble and get out of here.” Paris was babbling and she knew that she was blowing it, but she was as flustered as a schoolgirl by the casual proposal and this was her best response.

Enalia nodded thoughtfully, having finished enjoying playing with Rita for now. Humans had such funny notions about sex - even the human pirates she grew up with were like that. "The idea has merit. Run it by science and see if they can flesh it out. If so, I know Thex can make it happen."

“Y-yes ma’am. I’ll make sure they Science is onboard and send a full proposal to your for authorization. I’ve already discussed it with Thex and she’s onboard, and got her backup power system in place since Engineering has suffered damage from the holographic attacks. I think we’re ready to move forward with it.” Back on more familiar ground, Rita was relieved that she had at least remembered to ask the captain about her plan, as that had been her actual purpose in coming to the now ruined quarters.

“Any, ah, anything else, ma’am?” Paris asked, mildly worried what the next words might bring forth.

"Yeah, one more thing." Enalia popped open her lingerie armoire and pulled out two sets of skimpy undergarments, holding them up to her as she posed with each one in turn. "Tholian silk or Telarian cotton?"

Like a busty deer in headlights, Paris stood stunned for a second. Then she blinked rapidly a few times before her characteristic smirk re-emerged. Running her finger lightly across the latter selection held against the captain’s skin, the blonde bombshell breathily explained, “Cotton. It breathes better and doesn’t bunch up like silk when it gets… hot.” With that said, she half-turned and made her exit from the captain’s quarters, being sure that her exit was worth watching.

And watch is what Enalia did, with her characteristic lopsided grin. She'd have to leave any seduction to her wife, but they'd have plenty of time for that during shore leave. Maybe Maica could arrange an Andorian orgy between the three of them and Thex...

Shrugging it off for now, she tossed the silk undergarments back and headed off to shower off her itchy spots.

T'Pral had her phaser drawn as she walked with Shavni and R'Tor down the corridor. She trusted these two and they worked well together. Read on the other hand, seemed to be more of a loner and preferred to work alone. She didn't doubt his abilities and thus was the reason she allowed him to work alone when not required to be a part of a team. As they rounded a corner towards Ten Forward, they were startled by the sound of a projectile weapon discharging, followed by several others along with screams.

"What the hell?" Shavni commented as she, T'Pral, and R'Tor drew their phasers.

T'Pral peered around the corner at the doorway leading to Ten Forward. She spotted two men wearing vintage clothing styles from Earth. They had black pants, coat, and wide brim hats with white shirts. One wore a black puff tie with a thin mustache and the other wore a red puff tie and well as sported a long, thick mustache and what appeared to be a vintage law enforcement badge. The men seemed familiar to T'Pral--as if she had seen them in historical archives before.

"Why don't you come on in here, Wyatt!! Join the party!" a gruff voice boomed from within Ten Forward.

'Wyatt?' T'Pral thought--she knew the name. This was a nightmare for T'Pral. Ten Forward was the last place she needed a firefight. She needed to end this fight now before anyone got hurt if they weren't already hurt or killed.

"Give it up, Curly Bill!" Wyatt responded in a demanding voice.

"Why do you ever trade words with the man, Wyatt," the other said as he finished firing a shot and ducked back behind the doorway. "He is not...on your, well at least my intellectual level," he smiled.

"Not now, Doc," Wyatt said before firing another shot.

"I take it you two are lawmen," T'Pral observed, carefully approaching the two.

The forms of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday turned quickly at the newcomer. "I would never associate myself as being a man of the law, madam," Doc Holliday replied with a grin.

"Who are you?" Wyatt asked, holding his revolver in a low ready position.

"I am the Chief of Security for this vessel...I am a lawman as well," she explained.

"A woman lawman?" Doc Holliday chuckled. "Madam, you are a riot."

'Ah, sexism was rampant in the 19th century,' T'Pral recalled from her Terran History class at the Academy. "Excuse me, gentlemen," T'Pral said as she sprinted through the doors, aiming for a turned over table. She landed perfectly, rolling behind the table in one swift agile move. She carried her momentum to the other side and fired her phaser that struck the man in the shoulder as he fell to the ground. Shavni rushed in and fired, striking Curly Bill in the chest before the image disappeared.

"Madam, you may stand at my side any day," Holliday said with a tip of his hat and grin as he and Earp entered.

"You got some fancy moves there," Wyatt said with a nod. "Mind help me and Doc track down the rest of the Cowboy Gang?"

T'Pral nodded at the man. "Your aid would be appreciated."

"Then after you, ma'am," Wyatt said with a slight bow and a gesture with his hand.

The alarm on her communicator awakened the lost navigator from her deep and dreamless slumber, and she fumbled with the device, opening it and stopping the alarm without completely waking up. Which was sufficient to bring her consciousness to the surface to dream. Which, for Rita Paris, was seldom a good thing.

Hugging the couch cushion that she had taken to sleeping with in lieu of her lost lover, the lonely woman sniffled in her sleep as her mind turned over the conundrum in which she was trapped. The experimental transporter that had reassembled her in this era had somehow pinpointed her origin coordinates in time, space and dimension. But it lacked the power to send her back. While she had a theory about how to use the current storm to channel the energy of the dark matter ion storm into the transporter to accomplish that feat, what she hadn’t figured out was how to do it without having the bolt of dark energy tear through the Hera like tissue paper.

While she wanted nothing more than to go home, she couldn’t do it at the cost of any lives on the Hera.

Thus in her sleep she tossed and turned, her mind wrestling with a problem that she lacked the scientific background to solve. There was the possibility that she could bring it to Captain Telvan, but bringing a problem with no solution would likely not go particularly well with the starship commander. If they could dream up a solution, she had confidence that Thex could bring it to life, but she still needed more details to make it work.

There was no greater drive within her than to return to her own time and dimension, to return to the starship on which she belonged, to the arms of the man to whom her heart belonged.

Of course, there was also the pesky matter of the Temporal Prime Directive to consider, of which Captain Telvan seemed dismissive. While she had learned quite a bit in the past few weeks, to Rita’s mind none of it could unbalance history. She knew the replicators could make nearly anything, but she couldn’t build one. She knew isolinear chips were now the standard for systems, but she couldn’t create one. She was just a pilot, and while the weapons of starship warfare had advanced and the strategies changed, none of the information she had learned would change the face of the galaxy.

Were she a scientist or engineer who had studied the systems that might be so. But Rita Paris was a pilot, and that was what she knew. A pilot who had piloted a future craft was still just a pilot were she back in her own chair on her own bridge in her own timeline. Besides, it was not even her own future in which she was currently trapped, but one where time and history had flowed radically differently. So any foreknowledge she might bring back with her were useless, even were she of a mind to exploit her future knowledge.

Somewhere far in the past and dimensions away, Sonak was still working to find her- this she knew with a certainty of faith borne of countless rescues and missions together. But she knew that he simply lacked sufficient data to find her- while he would be able to deduce that she had shifted dimensions, there was no way for him to locate the one into which she had been introduced. Even were he able to locate the correct dimension, there was no way for him to know that his lover had been displaced in time as well.

Brilliant and determined he was, but there were limits to what even Sonak could do, given the circumstances.

There was a possibility that she might try sending him a message- after all, a message in a bottle with chronal and dimensional coordinates might just enable him to work out a way to retrieve her. Or it might just illustrate the futility of the task for him, but she had never known Sonak to give up just because what he was attempting had never been done before. Hell, fully half of her plans tended to involve activities or experiments that had never been attempted or were theoretically impossible, yet Sonak always found a way.

As she turned this over in her exhausted half-asleep mind, Paris became aware of a presence in the room- mostly because said presence cleared his throat. Prying one eye open, the leggy lieutenant took in the shape of a man in an archaic blue uniform not unlike her own, but the masculine version in science blue. Standing at the foot of her bed with his hands clasped behind him was none other than Sonak of Vulcan.

While her heart leapt at the sight, Paris merely rolled over, mumbling, “Piss off. M’not in the mood.”

“I do not understand why you would address me thusly,” the somber scientist intoned. “Are you not pleased to see me?”

With a heavy sigh, Paris sat up, blearily eying the intruder in her quarters. While she was sleeping nude, she made no attempt to cover herself. “Look, whatever game you are playing with us, whatever or whoever you are, this is a shitty tactic and it isn’t working, so just go away, huh? Rita’s tired and she doesn’t want to play whatever game you have in mind.” With that said, she dropped back onto the bed in irritation.

The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at that, and cocked his head slightly in curiosity. “Why would you not believe the evidence before your eyes? I have traversed significant distance to…”

“Because you aren’t real,” she interrupted. Her hand rose from the bed on a slender arm as she waved it about to emphasize her point. “It’s cute you think to pull up the love of my life from old records and project him here to see how I’ll react, but we were bonded. If he were anywhere on this ship, I would know. He knew where I was, always. I was his t’hy’la, his one. If we were in any sort of proximity, I would feel him. So no matter how accurately you might mimic his form and features, you aren’t him.”

“And given my situation? If this is your ‘attempting to understand material beings’ or whatever rationale you have for playing these little games? This is particularly cruel. Because I miss him and I'd give anything to be reunited with him, and you projecting this image of my heart’s desire is just mean-spirited smoke and mirrors.” With that said, Paris curled up on the bed in a tight protective ball, hoping her speech would do the trick.

A moment later when she cracked her eye open, the ersatz figure of her lover was gone. That did not staunch the flow of tears that followed. For all the encounter had accomplished was to remind her, just how much she still missed her hero.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Swing_(dance)

http://www.catscornersf.com/

From Fedepedia, the Federation Encyclopedia:
Swing dance is a group of dances that developed with the swing style of jazz music in the 1920s–1940s, with the origins of each dance predating the popular "swing era"


The ship was safe once more- well, safe-ish. There seemed to be no imminent danger, and last night Rita Paris had gotten an entire night of sleep. If there were dreams she hadn't remembered them, and those seemed to be the best nights of all anymore. Bridge duty had been served, duty rosters filed, disputes settled, maintenance scheduled, discipline directed and duty discharged. The Hera should survive another day, and it looked like she was going to make it out of the dark matter cloud a day early thanks to her course adjustment, made possible by Vaemyn's real-time mapping telemetry.

The buxom bombshell of a bygone age felt that she deserved a night out. So too did her shipmate, the much harder working Thex sh'Zoarhi, chief engineering officer of the USS Hera. There was the strong temptation to invite her assistant CFO, the colorfully plumed Mona Gonadie. The former chief flight control officer was delighted that not only was someone else was doing the paperwork, but slowly teaching her how in the process.

But this time it would just be the two of them. Rita felt that her instincts had steered her well, and the hardworking dance loving Andorian girl had proven herself to be one hell of a friend. So it behooved the antique Starfleet officer in near mint condition to go out of her way to be a friend as well. Thex clearly loved to dance, and an ex boyfriend had gotten Rita into swing dancing. She didn't have the moves and training to even try some of that complex Orion dance the blue-skinned babe enjoyed.

But a Lindy Hop, West Coast Swing or boogie-woogie and Rita Paris could swing with the best of them. And tonight she was taking her little pal with her. She had a fabulous dress, all the synthehol the starship could replicate, great music and a cool club to visit. One of the many joys she was discovering of life in this fantastic future, was that you could essentially go on shore leave every night, and go wherever you wished. Downtime did not have to be dull if you did not wish for it to be so.



"Tonight is most definitely not going to be dull," Rita promised her reflection as she touched up her lip stain with some gloss. "Now to see if Thex shows up to meet me here in my quarters, or if she ends up standing in front of the holodeck door again..."

Thex had never been swing dancing before, so when her friend had asked her to go, she had had to do a little research about it. Looking up some information on it, she quickly began to understand what she needed. She also looked through the outfits Rita had sent over, and quickly chose one that she liked the look off.



Stepping out of her quarters, Thex quickly made her way down the hall to her friend's quarters, as they were practically neighbors in Officer Country. Pressing the alarm, she waited patiently for it to open. Which it did almost immediately, the doorway filled with her tall and buxom human friend, whose smile was quite wide and cheerful.

"You look amazing, Thex! Great choice, and that dress is perfect for this kind of dancing! C'mon in, I just have to grab my earrings and my shoes," Rita hustled away from the doorway, moving at that high speed that Thex was getting used to now. It seemed Rita was always in a hurry to get most places, and the leggy lieutenant was making no exception tonight as she hustled across her quarters to grab her accessories.

The quarters themselves had changed a bit since last Thex saw them. The walls were a blue-grey, while the carpeting was a subdued dark blue, and a conservative tight knit. The walls were adorned by various images of Rita's past- a very large image of the refit class USS Exeter dominated one wall of the living room, while there were service jacket portraits of a handsome young man in a red uniform from her day, and another of a Vulcan in science blue from the same era. While much of the furniture looked the same, it appeared that Rita had added a few room dividers to break up the large open floorplan, and she had apparently added a dining room with six chairs off her kitchenette.

" I like what you've done with the place. Old friends? " She said looking at the men in a uniform from a more simpler time. She had always like the miniskirt outfit from that time. Before the Borg and the dominion. She did keep looking around the room taking in the decor and the art. Her quarters were far smaller and a larger mess. She really should clean her place up. " I've never been swing dancing before. I hope you go easy on me," the Andorian said as her friend returned.

"Yep, old friends. That's Lieutenant Michael Stuart," Rita indicated the handsome man in red. "In my timeline, he led a successful mutiny against a mad captain and brought the ship home, and was granted promotion and command. Here, he died an engineering lieutenant, but it still looks like a portrait of the man I knew. And of course Sonak, because I figure if I'm gonna moon over someone it helps calm me a little to see him, even as an image. Those and the picture of.... well, the nacelles are actually all wrong and frankly our Exeter looked more like your Ambassador class than your Constitution refit class. But it's.... I don't know, the old call letters make me nostalgic."

There was a moment where Rita got her earrings on and she perched on the edge of the couch, slipping her wedge heels on when her brow furrowed and she paused. Internally she debated- if she brought it up now then it might ruin the evening. But she wasn't sure if she could ignore it all evening because she really wanted to talk to someone about it. Thex was her best friend, and short of running it past her therapist, the best one onboard to talk about the delicate subject. Besides, it potentially affected her too.

"Can we talk for a minute, Thex? There's something on my mind and I really need to talk to somebody about it. So do you mind? Before we go out?" Rita wasn't the happiest about bringing it up now, but she trusted her instincts on this one. Hopping up, she grabbed a bottle of cinnamon whiskey synthehol and a pair of tumblers, and poured two fingers for each of them. Handing one off to Thex, she held her own up for a toast.

" Sure Rita what's on your mind?" The andorian said talking her tumbler and raising it in toast. She knew her friend mind still had a million and a half things to ask and figure out how she had been transported to this strange new time.

"Soooo the captain kinda jokingly came on to me about a three way with her wife," Paris started, and waited for her friend to react to that. "But joking in that 'if you get offended I was joking but if you are down with that I'm serious' sort of way."

" Okay," Thex said calmly not having really expected that as an answer. " Well, I didn't expect that you to say that. Did you say anything about it?" The andorian asked hopefully being polite in this situation. Having a friend ask this was definitely not in her past experiences.

"Yeah, I just kinda laughed it off and changed the subject. But I'm not really sure what I should do... I mean, I've lived my career in a short skirt, I've been hit on plenty of times by lots of people in lots of ways." Rita paused to take a swig of her drink, formulating her thoughts as she spoke. "I did used to sleep with my superior, but that was different- Sonak and I were all business in uniform, and we kept our private lives private. He was a Vulcan, he could do that. This is... a lot different. Plus, I, ah, I mean, I like girls just fine, just... I've never particularly swung that way. Just as, like, an afterthought to the situation."

Eyeing her slender blue friend, the time-tossed temptress flopped down on the couch. "So it's kind of a sticky situation, y'know? I don't want to offend the captain buuuuut I'm a little stuck here, you see what I mean?"

Thex tried to say something but then decided to stare at her drink for a while feeling very awkward at this. This was a situation none of her friends had asked her about before. Settling the thoughts that were standing around in her head feeling rather confused at the whole situation they'd been dropped in, she said to her friend. " Well, I never been asked to sleep with my superiors, let alone have a threesome with their wife. Enalia does like messing with peoples heads, but she'd never force you into anything you didn't want to. No one on the ship would... well except for the ECH and he's a last resort asshole. If she's making you uncomfortable just tell her and I'm sure she'd apologize or if you'd like I could go and tell her. " She said with confidence coming back into her voice.

Well, crapRita thought to herself as she watched her cerulean skinned spacegal pal shift several shades of sapphire. I guess in a world where schoolchildren don’t know what a bully is, it stands to reason sexual harassment isn’t something they understand either. Way to go, Rita, now you’ve just made Thex uncomfortable. Okay, noted- sex is apparently a topic not to bring up to the Andorian who practices dances perfected by harem girls.

“I’m sure you’re right,” Rita lied fluidly. “I'll handle it, have no fear. For now, let’s get going, huh?” With that, Rita downed the rest of her drink and stood, that devil-may-care grin set on her face. “Go do some jitterbugging in a cool club that I dug up in the databanks.”

" Let’s," Thex said smiling as she finished her drink and stood up to follow her friend to the door. " So what’s the name of this club you've found? " she asked her friend.

“It’s a club called Cat’s Corner, in San Francisco. I know, I know, I am boring and I always want to go to my own hometown,” Paris admitted. “But I can imagine it would be hard to find swing clubs anywhere else in the galaxy, and apparently the Swedish American Hall has been hosting these things for longer than both of us have been alive, so I figure they must be doing something right.” Clipping her comm badge discretely amongst the ruffles at the bottom of her dress, Rita checked herself out in the mirror. The club would be filled with holograms who would be as impressed or unimpressed with them as their settings directed, but old habits died hard. She was going to a club, so she had to look her best.

Turning to face her diminutive pal, the leggy blonde flashed a smile. “You ready?”

The andorian nodded and returned her friend’s smile. " Ready!" she said as she followed Rita out into the corridor and down the hall to the holodeck, now fixed up and no longer malfunctioning due to the storm. Her team deserved a medal for their work.

As Rita punched in her code to the holodeck, the program preload she had selected was set so it would be in full swing when the doors opened. And when the doors opened, the hallway was filled suddenly with the lively sounds of jazz, a strong beat thrumming as the urgent driving of the horns took precedence, the heavy bass thrumming. The joint was jumping, as Rita had delineated in her choice, and it was filled with a variety of races, not just a preponderance of humans as one might expect in an earth club, even in the city that was home to Starfleet.

Crossing the floor of the club, Rita did so with much less than her usual highly-efficient long-legged walking speed. Instead, when she walked there was much more sway in her hips, and her eyes were alert and active, scanning the room for the attention she was generating to be received. In so much of her life and in so many of the activities in which she engaged, Rita Paris was over her head or out of her element and making do as best she could. But this was a night out on the town dancing, and for a change, the out of date officer was very much in her element.

Approaching the bar, Rita found an open spot and looked around to make sure Thex had been traveling in her wake. “What can I get you to drink, dancing queen?” the buxom blonde asked with a bit more than her usual enthusiasm.

Thex had been looking around the club with a sense of wonder and homeyness. This place was wonderful,, and she was already moving her hips slightly to the beat of the music. " Whatever you think is best Rita. This place looks amazing, " she said as she joined her human friend at the bar, her head still moving around talking in her surroundings.

“It’s a swingin’ scene, to be sure,” Rita giggled at her own joke before handing Thex first a shot of something amber colored which smelled familiar to what they had been drinking in Rita’s quarters. In addition, the bartender produced a rather large pair of glasses with multi-layered blue liquors flowing serenely together inside the glass.

“First we do the fire,” Rita held up her amber shot glass for a toast, clinked her glass off Thex’s before downing the shot, then she grabbed the taller drinks, setting one in front of the petite Andorian and one in front of herself “Then comes the cool of the Andorian Sunset,” Rita explained as she attached herself to the straw and started draining the colorful drink in record time. It was abundantly clear to Thex where Rita had spent her weekends at the Academy and why she had not graduated at the head of her class.

It seemed Rita knew a thing or two about partying, and school was officially in for Thex.

Thex nodded and followed her human friend's instructions, downing the amber shot glass. The liquid burned her throat as it went down, and the andorian was grateful for the cool blue liquid that bore her homeworld’s name. She enjoyed every drop of the blue liquid which she sucked from the straw, before placing it back down on the bar. She was amazed at how fast her friend had drunk hers. " You've done this before, haven't you?" The andorian asked smiling.

“Well back in my day, when you drank too much, you paid the price. But we didn’t have synthehol,” Rita grinned as she indicated to the bartender to bring another round. “So when we overindulged, we just got drunk and paid for it. But this, where you can shake it off whenever you want with no after effects? That’s just kind of perfect for a night like this.” Having made her proclamation, another shot of Fireball and another cool Andorian Sunrise were parked in front of the party girls, and Rita threw back the second shot and started working on her tall cool and smooth blue drink. “Now we can just pregame like crazy ladies then get to cutting it up on the dance floor!”

" Well, if you want to know how to replicate real alcohol just let me know. I have the codes to do it." Thex replied with a laugh as she took another drink. It went down easier this time but was still as sweet as before.

"You clever little devil, I will bear that in mind for the future. Okay, okay, so- the idea behind swing dancing is that you're dancing with a partner. If you don't have a partner you can just dance to the band, but it's hard to swing alone, because," Rita took the engineer's calloused hand in her own then took one long step away from the bar. Tugging on the lithe and acrobatic engineer, when she came in Rita reversed, and they both moved a bit to the music.

"Swing dancing. Get it?" The blonde bombshell in the tiger striped dress flopped against the bar, clearly already a bit drunk, as she reached for her tall cool drink and slurped it down.

" Yeah, i think I get it. " The andorian replied finishing off her own drink with one long gulp. Dropping her drink back on the bar she and Rita headed onto the dance floor swinging to the beat as they did.

The dark wood floor was already filled with dancers as the band started another lively tune, and it took no time for the two Starfleet officers to find dance partners. Thex was a natural, picking up the dance moves as she moved, and in short order she was doing a Lindy Hop, swinging around her partner, her off hand in the air as the horns had their way with the music. When her partner went to toss her around his back, the acrobatic engineer was ready, and the energetic movements were coming naturally to her.

As for Rita Paris, on the dance floor she came alive. Dynamic and inexhaustible, she was a woman in constant motion, twirling and twisting around her dance partner when not synchronizing her movements to those of her dance aprtner. There were some particularly difficult maneuvers, such as a hold stand and a knee slide and a basket whip. She whipped over her dance partner in a standstill backflip swing lift and hit the ground on her heels, still dancing and grinning ear to ear. It was a rare moment of Rita doing what she loved in a venue in which she knew what she was doing, and it was clear that she was loving it.

As she danced, Thex smiled at her friend, as she seemed to be glowing with happiness. It seemed in all the music and the beat, the woman from the past was able to help escape all the troubles and thoughts that plagued with her. She seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself.

It could be challenging to keep up high-energy dancing like that for long, but Thex and Rita lasted a good half hour on the dance floor before Rita tugged her friend by the hand and dragged her to a couch off to the side where Rita could flop down on the upholstery and sweat as she signaled a waitress for more drinks.

“So, this is my people, this is my culture- well, the parts I get to be proud of, at least,” Rita grinned as she gestured to the dance floor. “You really do have a gift for the dance, Thex. You learned those dances moves as soon as you saw them, and you were cutting a rug to beat the band in no time. I see why you are so fond of your Orion dancing now, you move so fluidly and it comes so naturally to you.”

" I have no idea why, " the andorian said, smiling slightly as she leaned on the bar. " My family banned dancing. Anything that didn't contribute to their frigid regime schedule." She said quietly as she downed her drink in one gulp. " Sorry, I shouldn't have brought them up. I guess it's my Intel chief from my Orion operation to blame. She taught me so much about dancing when I was on that assignment."

“Well, good for her you did. Looks like it really brings you joy,” Rita observed. “As for family, have no fear. Talking bad about my family is why I’m the black sheep- well, and these,” Rita hefted her heavy assets and bobbled them for a bit. “I don’t know about your family, but in mine women were to serve the drinks, stay out of the way and make babies. Clearly I made my family ever so proud.”

" Same with mine, only add in a large amount of xenophobia and andorian supremacy. Rather ironic given our genes. Still, I don't miss them. This fleet is my family now. " The andorian responded, looking around at the holodeck walls that she knew were there.

“Cheers to the fleet as home. Yeah, my father was surprisingly humancentric. Distrusted the Vulcans as much as the Romulans and swore they were trying to keep the human race from exploring the stars. Of course he also had very specific racial insults for Andorians, Tellurites, Klingons…” Rita paused to polish off her drink, smacked her lips then raised her empty glass in a toast. “Here’s to you Clifford, you xenophobic sexist pig. You were right, I was never going to be of any use to the family.”

“How about yours? A whole clan, huh?” Rita asked, trying to draw the little Andorian out. Thex never talked about herself, so perhaps here was part of the reason why.

" No, not a whole clan. Well, not my knowledge. It was just me, my four parents, three sisters and a whole bunch of religious nutters. Well, until that jellyfish pulled me over the wall. I owe Vash my life." She said thinking warmly of that unusual creature who had done so much for her.

“So color me curious. Is it rude of me to ask about that? You never really talk about it, and I have no idea what that’s all about.” Rita paused to retrieve their drinks from the waitress, parking a bright yellow and red version of the Andorian Sunrise in front of Thex as well as a cool blue shot that was clearly refrigerated. “I know you need four Andorians to reproduce and that they tend to be clannish, but I really don’t know any more than I learned in the Academy. I’ve never been to Andor, and you are the first Andorian I’ve ever served with. Plus, I admit, I am crazy curious about the jellyfish…”

" No no no, it's just that I'm rather embarrassed about that topic. I know, a girl who dances like an Orion is embarrassed about sex. Seems rather odd, but that how I am. Let's just say, for the full andorian experience, you need to males and two females. The males provide the secret sauce, one of the females provides the egg and the other is the incubator. I don't know much about clans. I was brought up in a religious cult. As for Vash he's a very long story." The andorian replied gratefully for the drink at hand as she took a few sips.

“Fair point. And we don’t ever have to talk about something that makes you uncomfortable, okay?” Rita leaned in to her friend, her eyes a bit wide and her coordination not all it should be- Rita was well into a drunk and powering ahead for more. “I just ask questions about everything because I don’t know, right? That doesn’t mean you have to answer if you don’t want, or it is too painful or whatever. No means no, okay?” Paris giggled at her own joke, then took a sip off the colorful beverage. “See, this one is a southern California specialty that we call a Tequila Sunrise. Different colors, different flavors- not as smooth and creamy as the Andorian Sunrise.”

Thex gladly took the drink, but before drinking it she looked at her human friend and said, " A few more of these, and I'll tell you anything, Rita. " With that, the andorian began drinking, enjoying the flavours and textures that went down her throat.

Pffft,” Rita waved her hand dismissively. “Synthehol, where you can shake off a buzz instantly. Wonders of the modern century is that people will never make poor choices when drunk, because they can sober up whenever they want.” Pausing for a few seconds to slurp at her drink, Rita amended with a pointed finger. “No, scra5tch that, I’m sure people still do stupid s6tuff when they are drunk, if they choose not to sober up.”

Setting her drink on the bar a bit harder than she intended, Rita Paris shook first her heads then let it spread to her entire body. “Okay, I’m lubed up- let’s dance!”

The andorian nodded as she hurried to finish her drink, before following her friend onto the dance floor. She was getting used to the moves, so it was now easy to get back into the swing of the music.

While they did not dance the night away, Rita had four hours booked in the Holodeck, basically her ration for the month, and they used it all. The athletic human woman danced and shimmied and slid about, letting herself be tossed and thrown with abandon by their holographic dance partners. As for Thex, she not only mastered the moves of three different dances, she also invented a few more as she combined her natural acrobatics talent with her love of the dance. By the time the two women were departing the holodeck, shoes in hand, they were both giddy and drunk and filled with good cheer.

“And that was a holographic simulation of a night out on the town. We can hit the galley for breakfast and drunk talk if you want? Usually we find a greasy spoon somewhere, but since we’re still on a starship in the middle of who knows where, we can make do,” Rita offered, as all that dancing had made her hungry and her stomach was officially growling at her. Whattya say, pal of mine?”

" Some food sounds great right about know. " The blue engineer replied as her own stomach grumbled slightly at the mention of food. The officer's mess and its replicators and fresh food were sounding like a wonderful place to be right now. " Officers mess is looking really good right now. "

"Then let me introduce you to another element of earth girl clubbing, my blue-blooded buddy," Paris grinned far too wide at her own joke and accidentally hit herself in the head with one of the shoes she was carrying. "Snort! I am the soul of grace. Those charm school lessons really paid off, I tellya. Nah nah nah, see, this is the joy of the 1AM breakfast, where we eat a regrettable amount of carbs and protien then go home to pass out for not long enough before we're up at work tomorrow doing it again."

Thex grinned in reply as they made their way to the officer's mess. At least her friend was feeling better even if it was the happy drunk better. Hopefully, her mood would be the same in the morning. Maybe with a full belly and some sleep it would last even longer.

As the idea hit her, Lieutenant Rita Paris sat bolt upright in her spacious bed from the quick catnap she was trying to sneak in.

“The graviton polarity generators! That’s the key!”

Practically leaping out of bed, Paris paused long enough to run through a sonic shower, then yanked up her black leggings before wrestling into her anachronistic gold minidress uniform, the gold scants holding it all up and together. Making certain that she had her uniform’s insignia in place, as it doubled as her comm badge, Rita scooped up her old flip open communicator and clipped it to the back of her uniform, slipped on her black knee boots and hustled out the door, PaDD in hand as per usual.

As she locomoted, she glanced up more often than usual. Under ordinary circumstances so long as she stayed to starboard, she was in the correct lane of traffic and she could afford to have her nose buried in a report or tech spec or whatever catching up on the modern world in which she was engaged. But with the holo emitters shipwide going haywire, it did not pay to not watch where you were going these days, because you literally never knew what you might encounter.

Hopping on the nearest turbolift without incident, Paris tapped her comm badge. “Computer, please locate Chief Science Officer Vaemyn.”

=^=Lieutenant Vaemyn is not currently on board=^=

“Deck 9,” Paris ordered the lift, then rode it down, trying to organize her thoughts so that she could at least come off looking like a halfwit to the scientist, as opposed to a complete idiot. Making her way through the corridors, she was only chased by a Mugatu once, and she managed to lose it by ducking into the maintenance bay and hiding from it. While that left it wandering the halls, she wasn’t really quite up for fighting a 365 kilo giant poisonous primate with her bare hands today. Besides, she was on a mission, and if her idea wasn’t completely crazy, maybe the Science department could use it to get them the hell out of this dark matter cloud.
Well, assuming someone from the science department was in Stellar cartography. The mystery of where the chief science officer had gotten off to Rita figured was Security’s problem.

Of course, as Vaemyn was concerned, he was currently in a quite lovely position indeed. He was (technically) in Stellar Cartography, but a poorly phrased voice command to begin a computer simulation instead confused the poor computer into a tizzy. Vaemyn wanted to simulate the gravitational tides of the dark storm.

So, naturally, the computer sent Vaemyn and his companion/victim of the day, Ila Dedjoy, into the storm of darkness. Except without a ship. Or shuttle. Or spacesuit.

Thankfully, the malaised computer had not beamed the two scientists out into a horrifying death and instead meerly created a holographic simulation. Oh, the computer truly believed that Vaemyn and Ila were outside, but due to some strange whim of a starship designer, Stellar Cartography’s holographic systems were deliberately meant to be visual only, unlike the rest of the Hera. There were no safety protocols to short circuit because the holoprojectors simply couldn’t actually do anything harmful, such as suck the air out to simulate true vacuum or send the temperature plummeting down to absolute zero. Quite by accident, Vaemyn and Ila had discovered one of the few areas of the ship that could be considered ‘safe’ from wild holographic intrusions.

Still, they focused on the matter at hand. An elementary magnification command worked, reducing the skyscraper-sized Hera to a mere meter in length, while another tentative command successfully coaxes the computer into colouring the areas of strong gravitational attraction red. It was nowhere near a truly accurate map of the dark matter, and indeed it left the virtual Hera surrounded by disturbingly blood-coloured shaped blobs amidst the stars, but it was a start. and the scientists worked with eager diligence. In Vaemyn’s case, this was accompanied by enthusiastic hand-flapping, a happy grin and endless non-sequitors.


Tabbing the hatch controls of Stellar Cartography produced a negative sound, so Rita flipped open her communicator to call the ship. An oddity of the future's starships were that you needed less communication with your shipmates, because you were often working with the ship itself. In her day, the crew tended to think of the ship as one of their shipmates in an abstract, sentimental sort of way. In 2395, the ship was sentient, and it obeyed your lawful orders.

Provided you gave it the right requests and orders, just like any chain of command. Best of all, the computer operated on pure logic. Under normal circumstances at least, though it seemed to Rita those were the exception rather than the rule on the USS Hera.

"Computer, does Stellar Cartography fall under my department?"

=^=Stellar Cartography is a shared laboratory between science and flight control, although access is unrestricted to any crew in case of emergency=^=

"Thank you, Computer," Paris offered, frowning a bit. If everyone had access then why was it locked? "Computer, please override lock on the Stellar Cartography door. Authorization Lieutenant Paris, Rita, 867-5309."

=^=Acknowledged=^=, the ship's computer replied, and the door slid open with a positive chime.

"Thank you, Computer..." the extradimensional explorer expressed as she strode into the holographic map of the storm that the science officer had assembled, which stopped her cold. Stepping slowly and cautiously, she took in the spectacle of the holographic projection of the storm in awe. Paris' face was rapturous. "Rebooting the nav sensors worked... this is beyond amazing."

Noticing the Vorta scientist, Paris continued moving cautiously, as she could not see the details of the room nor floor and had nearly stumbled off a step she could not see once already. Closing the distance, she directed her question at the equally rapturous scientist. "Lieutenant, is this real-time or just a still image? Are we getting live telemetry here?"

Ila had big round doll eyes and could see a bit more than the other two so she had a slightly easier time of it with the holographics going haywire. She was still in awe at the amazing scenery going on around them and though her race experienced joy and excitement in a different manner, she shared in her cohort's enthusiasm for the success they've had in mapping what they had of the storm. Tapping at the barely visible console, even to her, she was able to rotate the map a bit so they could see it from a slightly better vantage point. "If I may, this is live. It seems the storm cropped up on top of us and is still building in intensity. However, it seems to be dissipating rapidly on the far edge."

"Incredible," Paris muttered, taking it all in.

“Is it?” Vaemyn said with bemusement, then looked up. Considerable hard work had started to reveal the vast tempest raging around the Hera, with every colour imaginable boiling and roiling in the endless array of clouds. The lightning was just as impressive, with moon-sized lightning bolts zapping between the clouds with startling regularity. It was all computer tricky, of course, everything colour-coded for easy comprehension; the true storm was utterly invisible, but still just as lethal.

“Oh, I suppose it is,” Vaemyn said nonchalantly, then glanced at Rita. Her unusual yellow uniform stood out more than usual amidst the technicolour splendour surrounding them, but the look of wonder in her eyes was even more impressive. “How can we help, lieutenant?”

“I… uh…” Clearly Paris was having a bit of trouble taking it all in- after all, this was unheard of in her day and age. Standing in the middle of the storm, as it were, was a breathtaking sight if you weren’t jaded to the technological marvels of the modern day. Which clearly she was not, as she composed herself and focused on the task at hand.

“I had an idea about the storm… that we might be able to use the graviton generators to push back the storm using electromagnetism to produce anti-gravity that could affect even the dark matter, pushing it back far enough so that we can produce a stable warp effect. Then assuming we can keep it up, we just have to figure out how to not outpace the graviton bubble. I think? Maybe?” The buxom blonde of a bygone age shrugged a bit, a seismic activity given her physicality.

“I’m, um, clearly no scientist, I’m just a pilot. But I thought if we could effectively map the phenomenon then I might be able to plot a shorter course out of it, assuming we can form a stable warp bubble. So at least I’ve had one idea pay off today.”

The large eyed alien raised a hand to volunteer some information. "If I may... My specialty is originally geology so I know a bit about gravity. With the pod graviton generators and the warp coils inverting the output of them... If we bounce that off of the main deflector... In theory, we might be able to create a quantum-gravitic-warp repulsion field. My people have been working on it for some time. Of course every time they've tried it the test platforms have been consumed by a singularity..." Ila looked thoughtful for a moment. "But then again, they didn't have the extra advancements that we do. We can probably avoid creating a nanosecond long black hole and being crushed into the size of a gilberry."

The anachronistic astronaut actually understood all of that, so she was taking that as another victory. Again, she followed her own established rules of starship life. Define everything you just heard in a summary statement, so you can confirm that you understood correctly, thus the course can now be defined. "Right, so... it could work, then, is what you're saying?"

“...Perhaps,” Vaemyn said slowly, his eyes out of focus as he stared at the storm. “The theory is comparable to the creation of a warp shell and carries similar risks, but it would repel the dark matter clouds, thereby negating dark lightning strikes. The calculations are extremely complex, but the idea is sound.”

Snapping out of his brief focused trance, Vaemyn grinned warmly at Rita. With her impractical miniskirt and buxom gold uniform, he had never thought of Rita as being capable of such intellectual maneuvering, a mistake that was, in retrospect, unforgivable. Sure, there had been bombshell Vorta scientists that he had known in his youth, but they had been designed that way, after all.

“You may have just saved the ship, Miss Paris,” Vaemyn said in appreciation.

The smile with which his words were received was genuine and pure, and thus easy for anyone to interpret. It was an expression of unadulterated joy reserved for those whom had fulfilled their purpose in the cosmos. Since losing everything she had known, and being thrust into a world that had quite moved beyond her, the anachronistic astronaut had spent all of her time running to catch up. Often not understanding half of what was said, the unconventionally uniformed underdog had generally not found a way to be useful nor serve a purpose.

In Vaemyn's words was that validation that she had missed so desperately, and been chasing so hard on the Hera. She had done something right. She had contributed. The supercentenarian space explorer's presence on the mighty starship... mattered.

As a professional Starfleet career officer, Lieutenant Rita Paris knew better than to violate another officer's personal space uninvited. But in this case, she threw military decorum to the wind and swept the Vorta into a quick embrace.

"Thank you... I really needed to hear that," she whispered in his long and efficient ear before releasing the brilliant scientist and taking a step back.

Startled, Vaemyn nevertheless laughed in the unexpected embrace, patting Rita good-naturedly on the back. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Paris,” he said as she withdrew.

Clasping her hands together, Paris pressed on with the less practical aspect of her plan. "So I was thinking we could try a spindizzy- we spin the ship to produce the effect. But since we have multiple redundant graviton generators that's probably not really necessary, is it?" Paris grimaced a bit comically.

“I don’t know,” Vaemyn said curiously, tapping some controls rapid-fire to the side, causing a stream of holographic mathematics to stream down in front of him almost faster than the eye could see, all while he kept typing. The seeming gibberish did seem to make sense to Vaemyn though, as he clucked, hummed and sighed at various points.

“Miss Paris,” he finally said slowly, “bearing in mind that the ship is designed to travel forwards only, could you somehow fly the ship accurately if we were spinning? And by spinning, I mean spinning very, very fast. Like trying to pilot a spinning top.”

Lips pursed and brows furrowed, then the gold-clad lieutenant held out her hand, fingers splayed in an approximation of the saucer section. "If this is the saucer, I'm thinking that we spin her on a horizontal, stem to stern." Rita wagged her hand to illustrate. "She'd still be pointing forward, we'd just be giving the inertial dampeners a run for their money. But I'm going to work that out with Thex next, because," Paris shrugged broadly. "I don't know the tolerances of the inertial dampeners off the top of my head."

"Besides, this really seems like the sort of plan the chief engineer should sign off on. Assuming the chief science officer thinks I should bring it to them?" Paris opened her eyes wide, her expression a silent question to the scientist.

Ila raised a hand at the mention of the inertial dampeners. "If I may... I assisted with the installation of the new Intel pod and with it we had to do some modification to the structural integrity field generator. If we spun the ship faster than 36 RPM for more than a few seconds, that system will fail and the deck echo bars will fly out of the space-frame. We calculated this based on the relative momentum of prior encounters that other ships have had with an entity known as Q where he spun the ship from one location to another. We can survive that... But not much more. Perhaps if we rotated just the gravimetric field instead and simulated a spinning stellar body? I've done that in small scale with rock samples..."

"While I'll admit there was a certain romance with the idea of spinning the starship, I believe you and we certainly don't want to rip off the intel pod, Paris added with a grin. "Simulating a spinning stellar body, you say... using the graviton generators? That sounds like some good science to me. Lieutenant?"

Vaemyn sighed theatrically, plainly disappointed. “Yes, Rita, it is fine science indeed. Maybe we shall be able to spin the Hera’s saucer some other day. I’ve always wanted to see these big Starfleet saucers spin. They’re just so perfectly designed for it.” His melancholy fading, Vaemyn looked back at Rita, smiling. “Certainly, Rita, take it to Thex and see what she thinks. The strain on our main deflector, inertial dampeners and graviton generators will be severe, but I’m sure that she can solve the problem.”

“I’m on it!” the old-school officer offered a snappy salute, spun on her heel and began cautiously feeling her way out of Stellar Cartography. A plan was in motion and she had the blessing of the science department, even if she wasn’t going to get to do something completely insane with the starship.

Win some, lose some. But at least they now had a plan for escaping this storm.

Prompt 1: Dinosaurs on a spaceship
Prompt 2: Weeping Angels

=== [Midnight] ===

Akira had been quick to respond when the ship collided with the Dark Matter ion storm; Daytona had required a moment to dress, but in a flash Akira was in her uniform and ready to go, so after a kiss to her lover she quickly blinked out of her quarters to report to the Bridge, but instead of reappearing at her desired destination, she found herself in a random corridor. Akira looked around in confusion, then attempted to once again blink herself to the Bridge. Failing once more, she found herself in another corridor, but this time she wasn't alone; a strange winged figure, a statue, was in the middle of the hall, the figure's hands hiding its face as though weeping. More than a little unsettled, Akira took a step back from the stony figure and looked around once more, this time to find an access panel so she could run a diagnostic on the holo-emitters to find out why she couldn't blink to the Bridge. She didn't get to look for very long because suddenly she felt a hand, a stony hand, on her arm, and then the most awful feeling as her matrix was ripped from its current location to somewhere else, a place, she realized, that was not the Hera...


=== [Current] ===

“Intriguing.”

Vaemyn’s idle comment drew a pained groan from his long-suffering assistant, who had now been working for fifteen hours straight. They had been headed to the mess hall for some dinner before she and Vaemyn turned in for some desperately needed rest, but now they were simply stood in a hallway, staring at a stone statue that had seemingly appeared out of thin air. While not unusual in itself, since holographic anomalies had been popping up ever since the Hera had ploughed into the dark matter storm, Vaemyn was regarding the stone statue from a meter away with intense interest.

“Tell me, Nadene,” Vaemyn said curiously, “what mythological figure of your world does this statue represent?”

Exasperated, tired and hungry, Lieutenant Nadene Assim had to stop herself from replying with something very ill-tempered. “It’s an angel, Vae,” she replied instead with a weary tone. “That’s what the wings signify. It has some representation in some old Earth religions and in some post 20th century fiction. It’s just a statue, it’s nothing, so let’s eat, okay? You can examine it all you want later.”

“But the wings, the pose,” Vaemyn continued, unfazed and ignorant of Nadene’s annoyance, “they suggest a form of divine messenger that is remarkably similar to ancient depictions of Vorta. The hands over the eyes also suggest…ah.” Seeing Nadene on the verge of meltdown, Vaemyn laughed, his hands raised in mock surrender, although he kept the statue firmly in his peripheral vision where his hungry eyes could keep examining it. “Do go on, Nadene, get some food and sleep, you have more than earned it. I shall be quite alright on my own. It is, as you have said, merely a statue and is no threat. Please trust my instincts as a coward to recognise danger.”

Even so, Vaemyn was somewhat hurt when Nadene thought about it for barely a moment, smiled, waved goodbye and then went on her merry way. Surely at least a little concern would be warranted. Still, Vaemyn returned his full attention to the holographic statue, staying a few meters back to consider the specimen in its totality rather than its individual aspects.

Of course, Vaemyn had no idea what was going on. Evolutionary pot luck and some genetic tampering had granted the Vorta with a remarkable ability to comfortably not blink for minutes at a time while experiencing intense curiosity, an autonomic physiological reaction akin to a Klingon’s relentless battle rage or a human’s irrepressible sex drive. Of course, after a few minutes of simply examining the stone and absent-mindedly using the provocative stonework as a muse for other thought chains, Vaemyn finally blinked.

And the statue moved. It didn’t walk, fly, wave, move its hand or anything else. One moment it was three meters in front of Vaemyn, and the next, it had seemingly teleported a meter forward in the miniscule fraction of second, in the literal blink of the eye.

Startled but fascinated, Vaemyn abandoned his internal ruminations about dark matter to focus more intently on the statue. Small wings, long flowing robes, hands over the eyes, all unchanged…except that the statue had moved a meter without being observed. How? How would a holoprogram act in such a bizarre and specific way?”

Still curious and idiotically blind as ever, Vaemyn deliberated closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, only to find an outstretched stone hand centimeters from his neck, the other hand and forearm still obscuring the angel’s eyes.

“Well now, that is entirely too close!” Vaemyn exclaimed, panicked as he hurriedly backtracked, still keeping an unblinking eye on the angel. Unfortunately, those same genes that had enabled the Vorta to stop themselves blinking when curious had a downside: when in danger, they constantly blinked. Thus, quietly becoming more concerned by the minute and feeling a distinct loosening of his bowels, Vaemyn was powerless against the autonomic response that forced his eyelids closed, and despite gaining ten meters on the monster before blinking, Vaemyn found himself once more with a stone hand near his throat after his eyes opened again.

“Well,” he muttered fearfully, already feeling that instinct to close his eyes. “I do believe that the operative word is ‘shit’.”

Indeed, his words proved poetic as Vaemyn’s eyes closed and he instantaneously vanished, leaving the suddenly smiling angel behind to continue wreaking havoc on the Hera crew.

---

Akira had lost track of how long she had been in this strange place, mainly because something seemed to be amiss with her matrix as her internal chonometer didn't seem to be functioning normally, but also because she had been more than a little preoccupied with surviving. Already, she had come across a flock of pterodactyl, a triceratops, a tyrannosaurus rex, and now a pair of velociraptors, highly intelligent predators that she seemed to have trouble shaking. Slowly, she peeked her head out of the little nook in the decorative bulkhead where she had been hiding; she couldn't hear them anymore, but that didn't necessarily mean anything since they could be sneaky creatures, so Akira ventured out just a little further to get a better look. At first glance, she seemed to be in the clear, so she removed herself fully and made her way over to what looked to be some sort of computer interface she had found earlier; it was in a language she didn't recognize, but maybe with a little luck she would find something to give her a clue as to where she was!

A little way down the corridor, Vaemyn appeared out of thin air with a sudden if anticlimatic pop, looking quite shocked indeed. Staying absurdly still, as if the slightest movement would invite catastrophe, Vaemyn’s eyes darted around the space.

It was a spaceship of some kind, certainly, but it couldn’t be any more different than the Hera. Whereas the Hera was brightly lit decorated in optimistic silver and gold, this new spaceship was dark, cramped and filthy. There was dust and filth everywhere, large spider webs were on the walls and doorways and the smell was truly appalling, rather like a sewer. Untidy acid green conduits were splayed everywhere around the ceiling, and as Vaemyn instinctively covered his nose with his hand, fighting the urge to gag, he further realised that it was sweltering.

“Well, this is a lovely change of pace,” Vaemyn muttered sarcastically. He tapped his combadge, but he fully expected the answering bzzzt that indicated non-functionality. The combadges had been finicky since the Hera had ploughed into the dark storm, and it was just typical that they would decide to stop working now.

Thus, painfully aware that his violet skin and blue undershirt seemed to glow in the poor light, Vaemyn reluctantly walked forward, trying hard to ignore the distant (but angry) animal sounds in the distance. After carefully edging through a narrow doorway of sorts, Vaemyn spotted a figure standing over a control console.

“Well, hello there!” Vaemyn called with false cheer, then immediately regretted his too-loud shout as his voice echoed. “I do hope you’ll forgive my ignorance, but I am somewhat turned around. Have you seen a starship hereabouts? Big silvery disk, couple of elongated engine nacelles underneath? Or perhaps have you spied a large grey door? If so, I shall be on my way.”

"SHHH!" Akira replied hastily; so focused was she that she didn't even bother to turn around to see who was speaking. "We don't want the velociraptors to come back," she said in a hushed tone as though this should have been obvious, but after a moment longer it finally dawned on her the realization of what was going on: she was no longer alone, and not only did she recognize the voice but he had described the Hera! Quickly, she stopped what she was doing and spun around to take in the sight of the Vorta Science Officer she served with.

"Oh thank goodness!" Akira said with relief, walking up to him to give him a hug, which wasn't entirely altruistic, she wanted to see if he was real or not. "I am so glad to see a familiar face! I've been here almost since the Hera was jolted out of warp, I have no idea what's going on, please tell me you have a sitrep."

Flummoxed, Vaemyn nevertheless patted Akira’s back kindly, intensely grateful to see a familiar face. "We appear to have accidentally entered a dark matter storm,” he explained, stepping back. “It is disrupting our computer systems and causing random holoprograms to run amok. Without the safety protocols, of course, since they’re just as much software as everything else and prone to disruption. I was about to grab dinner when I was abducted here, but...oh.” Vaemyn’s eyes widened in alarm. “Did you say velociraptors? Large reptiles, powerful legs, small arms, lots and lots of...ah...teeth?”

"I did say velociraptors," Akira replied with a nervous nod. "And there's a tyrannosaurus rex running around here too, I think he ate whoever started this program; I'm fairly certain we're in one of the holodecks, but I can't feel the walls and I can't access the program or the main computer directly to get us out of here, and in my explorations of this place I found the bloodied remnants of a Starfleet uniform with an arm with very, very big teeth marks in it... I am so ready to get out of here," she explained with an agitated shudder.

Vaemyn gulped before nodding fervently, moving to the computer console. It was completely unfamiliar, using alien symbols and a strange configuration, but he nevertheless started tapping buttons randomly, causing the green-hued to react in bewildering ways. “If we figure out this program, we can manipulate it, control it. Akira, have you learned anything about this setting?”

"I've been trying, but without my connection to the main computer, I don't have a fully developed translation matrix to run the symbols through; if I was in my Herald body, the built in translator could figure this out in seconds, but ever since the events on Granweh, I've been afraid to use it," Akira said with some remorse. "Hey, you wouldn't happen to know how long I've been in here, would you?" she asked, letting her worry show through.

Vaemyn glanced sideways at Akira with concern at a sudden realisation, although he kept working. Nobody had thought it odd that Akira hadn’t turned up for the staff meeting, assuming that she had had encountered some minor trouble, but now it made a disquieting sort of sense. “It has been just over seventeen hours since we entered the dark storm,” he said gently.

"Seventeen... hours?" Akira replied, trying to contain her shock; did no one try to look for her?! "Well, I... I'm sorry I haven't been able to make more progress in all that time, but... circumstances have been working against me," she tried in vain to dismiss the severity of the situation. But then something caught her attention, a reflection on the surface of the console, and when she turned to see what it was, she gasped then put her hand on Vaemyn's arm to silently direct his attention to the winged statue standing behind them. "H-how did that get there?"

“How did what...” Vaemyn said as he turned, then he yelped. “That creature sent me here!” he exclaimed, clutching Akira’s arm frantically while the stone angel watched them impassively. Vaemyn didn’t even quite know why the angel unsettled him so, but he felt it nevertheless, a deeply unsettling shudder that rippled through his entire body. Remembering what he’d learned earlier, Vaemyn forced himself to keep his eyes open, but the impulse to blink was awfully potent.

“I saw this thing in a corridor,” he explained to Akira in a hushed whisper. “It is fast, unimaginably so, but I believe it can only move when unobserved, like a quantum effect. It touched me and transported me here, yet I do not know what it could do if it touches us again. We could be teleported into space!” Forcing his mind to work through the haze of panic, Vaemyn’s purple eyes flicked to Akira, keeping the angel in his peripheral vision. “We cannot stop looking at it, even in the fraction of a second required for blinking, but you are an AI. You do not need to blink, yes? You can alter your avatar’s code since it’s a minor alteration, and I shall...I shall try to comprehend this computer to discern an escape route.”

"Sent you here? I saw one of these when I was attempting to blink to the Bridge, but I paid it no heed; it's possible one of these sent me here just as it did with you," Akira replied as she disabled passive blinking within her matrix so that her eyes would stay open at all times; she had already disabled most of her other passive actions, like respiratory and heartbeat emulation so she would not alert the nearby predators. "I am watching it now, do what you need to do, just be mindful of anything else that could harm us," she cautioned as she stared at the winged statue.

“Ah yes, it is becoming quite the list,” Vaemyn said with a nervous smile as he got to work on the alien computer, no small feat when he could feel the angel’s malevolent presence behind. A dark matter storm was perilous enough, but holographic dinosaurs? Quantum-locked predatory statues? What next? Surely they couldn’t run into anything worse.

After a couple of minutes of frantically waving through the green-hued symbols, however, Vaemyn had to give it up. Discerning the language and symbology was simply not possible in the time allowed, not when even a small distraction could disrupt Akira’s concentration and kill them both. Or could Akira even be killed? She was a hologram, after all, so her program was probably safe, backed up somewhere, but Vaemyn didn’t have backups. Not any more.

“Computer,” Vaemyn finally said, desperate even though he knew wouldn’t work, “just...I don’t know, send us somewhere else! Send us to the Bridge!”

And just like that, he and Akira were zapped away without even the courtesy of the blue sparkle of a Federation transporter. Discombobulated, Vaemyn looked around in panic before realising that he and Akira stood a large room full of computers and control interfaces, all with chairs: plainly a Bridge. Oh it was dark and damp, plus there was still an atrocious smell, but there could be no doubt.

And they weren’t alone.

A trio of human-looking people stared right back at Vaemyn, all equally bemused. The one in the center, smartly dressed with a suit, bow tie and a chin sharp enough to fence with, waved hesitantly. “Hello!” he said cautiously. “I take it you took the teleporter?”

"Did we?" Akira answered cautiously, her eyes darting about in search of another angel statue. "Did the statue come with us? Is it gone?" the blue-skinned hologram asked in a worried tone; she didn't see it, but that didn't mean that is wasn't there or others like it on the way.

“Statue? Did you say statue?” the red-haired woman repeated in a Scottish brogue, her eyes wide, but the other (much more modestly dressed) man interrupted her. “Wait, sorry, who are you?” he asked, his own English accent softening the question.

“Lieutenant Vaemyn,” Vaemyn answered, still thoroughly confused, then gestured at his crewmate. “Akira Zhuri. We’re not entirely sure how we got here, to be honest.”

It was perhaps a trick of the light, but Vaemyn thought he saw a spark of revelation in the bow-tie man’s eyes. Even so, the man didn’t give him time to consider, approaching Vaemyn and Akira and shaking their hands enthusiastically.

“Why, it’s a pleasure to meet you!” he exclaimed with cheerful enthusiasm. “I’m the Doctor, and these are the Ponds, Amy and Rory.”

“Oh, right,” Vaemyn said, still as befuddled as ever as he peeked over the Doctor’s shoulder at the two in question. Which one was which? Oh never mind, just assume the redhead is Rory...

“So, judging by your uniforms I’d say you’re military, but not real military, probably a science-led organisation,” the Doctor rambled at top speed, his hands waving around without a whit of self-control. “You’re a...oh, you’re a sentient hologram!” he exclaimed again at Akira, grinning. “I haven’t met a nice hologram in so long. And you, you’re a Anephian!”

“No I’m not,” Vaemyn answered blankly.

“Ah,” the Doctor said, frowning. “Hespiod?”

“No.”

“Geriod?”

“Nope.”

“Heskialatriopoloan?”

“Ah...no.”

The Doctor opened his mouth to make another guess before the redhead gave him a firm slap on the back of the head. “Doctor, focus,” she insisted with irritation. “We’re trapped on an alien spaceship full of dinosaurs about to crash into Earth in thirty minutes! Can we please focus on that?”

"Oh, I thought we were in a dark matter ion storm being chased by stone angels," Akira remarked, dumbfounded at the strange, quick-talking man with the bow tie. "Wait a minute, how do you know what I am?!" Most people couldn't tell she was a hologram, she often had to tell them she was, and then came the part where they tried to figure out just how aware she was, as though they could discern if she was truly sentient or not if they could just figure out where there programming ended and the soul began...

“It’s not too hard, really,” the Doctor explained, although he was already turning away to the next problem, looking around the bridge. “No respiration or eyelid movement, but really, the tailoring is a dead giveaway. Look at your uniform, it’s perfect, no ruffles or dirt anywhere. Only holograms make perfect clothes.”

Akira actually looked down at herself to see that even after hours of running and crawling around in dirty places, her uniform was in fact pristine. "Oh," she said with a flush of purple to her cheeks. "Right, well, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not the only hologram in this room," Akira stated, hoping that once these individuals knew the truth that maybe they could offer some help. "We're in a big room on our ship whose sole purpose is to make holographic environments for recreation, and outside this holographic environment is the very real danger of a dark matter ion storm that is causing our ship to malfunction. Can you help us get out? Please say that you can, because I have been stuck inside this program for seventeen hours."

Vaemyn facepalmed, his hand hitting his forehead with a loud smack. “Akira, they’re holograms. Their programming specifically stops them from true self-awareness. They can’t understand their true nature.”

“Never be too sure,” the Doctor said with a knowing smirk, tapping the side of his nose. At Vaemyn’s wide eyed shock, the Doctor stepped forward swiftly to wrap his arms around the Vorta and purple-skinned AI, talking quickly and quietly so that neither Amy nor Rory could hear. “I may not be the true Doctor, but I swear to you both, I will get you out of here and back to your ship, safe and sound. You can trust me.”

"Okay, that was unexpected," Akira replied bluntly, thinking it would take quite a bit more convincing to get the holographic characters to understand and agree to help. "So, what's the plan? In the seventeen hours I've been here, I've been unable to transfer myself out or call for the door."

"Doctor, what are you doing? We don't have time for this, Earth is going to launch missiles any second!" Amy reminded the Doctor; clearly, she was not able to grasp the truth beyond her programming.

“Yes, quite right,” the Doctor replied with a jolly wave of his hand, hurrying to one of the consoles and tapping buttons with blindng speed. “Amy, Rory, here’s the plan. I’m transmitting this ship’s ID signature to my TARDIS. You two are going to get in there and fly away so that the missiles will target the TARDIS instead.”

Rory rushed to the Doctor, distinctly consternated. “Doctor, I really hope there’s more to this plan, as I’d really like not to get blown up today.”

“Oh don’t be a baby, the TARDIS eats nuclear weapons for breakfast,” the Doctor retorted. Seconds later the entire group was zapped instantaneously to another part of the bizarre alien ship, but while everyone else was recovering and looking around, the Doctor was already pushing Amy and Rory towards a nearby big blue box.

“Alright now, in you go,” he said loudly, ignoring Amy and Rory’s very vocal protests as he herded them into the impossibly snug blue box. “Just wait for the big bang and you’ll be fine, just push the blue wibbly lever and you’ll be home and you can go back to making babies.” After shutting the doors and briefly turning away, the Doctor suddenly became alarmed, swiftly turning back round, opening the doors again and sticking his head in. “BUT WAIT UNTIL YOU’VE LANDED THIS TIME! The last thing we need is that happening again!”

With that, he closed the doors once more and pulled an odd cylindrical object out of his jacket pocket, aiming it at the blue box. The box them proceeded to groan loudly, as if in protest, before with the blue light on top of it flashing, it gradually vanished from existence.

With perfect nonchalance, the Doctor whirled back around, grinning in excitement. “Well, now that that’s sorted out, how about we get you two home?”

Dumbfounded, Vaemyn poked Akira’s shoulder hard as if to confirm that she was actually there, and he wasn’t dreaming. “Do you have any idea what just happened?” he asked her faintly.

"No idea whatsoever," Akira replied to Vaemyn, just as dumbfounded as he. "I'm just going to assume that a reality exists where that made sense, and then press on and get back to our reality. Sound good?" she asked her fellow Starfleet Officer. she was really having a hard time wrapping her mind around this Doctor-fellow. What kind of name was 'the Doctor' anyway? And a doctor of what?

Vaemyn was having much the same thoughts, but finally, his own quick Vorta mind was starting to catch up. “Normally we access the holodeck exit by voice commands,” he said quickly focusing on the next step. “But the dark matter storm is disrupting our computer systems and disrupting voice recognition. Akira’s program has enough focal complexity and code density to stay coherent amidst the disruption, but her program seems to be the only one unaffected.” Which could have dire consequences for the captain’s wife, he realised bleakly, but stayed on track. “So what’s your plan?”

“Well, it’s a bit of a work in progress, but I’ll get there in the end, I usually do,” the Doctor replied, and with enthusiasm he moved to a nearby damp wall, waving his bizarre cylindrical device at it. “Just talk amongst yourselves, I’ll be done in a mo. Attracting Angels with sonic vibrations is a bit tricky, but they do love a good sub-aural symphony.”

"Angels? You don't mean those statues that somehow sent us here, do you?" Akira asked, hoping against hope that somehow she had misheard the Doctor. "Why would you want them to come here?!"

Akira wouldn't get an answer because all three of them went still when they heard and felt it, the slow thud thud thud of monstrous footsteps growing closer; this was not a good sign...

"Oh no, the T-rex!" Akira exclaimed softly, recognizing the sound right away.

"Well at least it's not the raptors, those guys are tricky little buggers," the Doctor replied, undaunted by this new complication as he continued to aim his strange device at the wall. "Any second now!" he said to the wall as though his words were capable of bending the wall to his will.

Not willing to wait around for the T-rex to eat them, Akira grabbed Vaemyn by the arm and pulled him along to try to find a place for them to hide, leaving the Doctor behind to do... whatever it was that he was doing. Honestly, at this point Akira didn't think this holographic character was capable of helping them at all if all he was going to do was point his device at a wall and yell at it in a bizarre attempt to bring those Angels statues here.

Vaemyn didn’t need much encouragement, following Akira without protest, but unfortunately, there were no convenient hiding spots for the Vorta and the hologram. The Doctor for some unfathomable reason had teleported them to a dead end, the terminus of a massive ten meter tall corridor, and as the huge T-rex finally rounded the corner, Vaemyn and Akira found themselves back with the Doctor.

“Ah, Doctor,” Vaemyn said uneasily as the monstrous tyrannasaurus rex stomped forward, “I hope you’re not relying on us to fight that dinosaur, because we’re not soldiers.” He glanced back at the house-sized door that the corridor ended in, but with no apparent controls, he and Akira had no way of opening it. “I’m genetically engineered to be a coward, and I don’t think my friend here is really the type for violence, so if you have a plan...”

“Working on it,” the Doctor answered awkwardly, nerves for the first time starting to affect the mysterious hologram as the exceptionally large dinosaur got closer, glaring malevolently at the trio. “I haven’t negotiated with a tyrannasaur for a few centuries, so I’m a little rusty in that department. Do either of you speak late Cretaceous dinosaur, by any chance?”

When the Doctor asked that, something within Akira clicked and she suddenly pulled away from Vaemyn, stepping forward to face off with the deadly T-rex. It roared at her, but she did not back down; her whole posture had changed and she carried a confidence she lacked just moments ago. The T-rex became uneasy that this pitiful creature would not back down, and when she brought her hand up to reach for him, he recognized the gesture. Slowly, the T-rex bent down until his giant muzzle was right in front of her, and Akira tenderly placed her hand on the scaley nose.

"What a naughty boy!" Akira said to him with an unfamiliar accent. Actually, it wasn't entirely dissimilar from the strange Doctor's accent. "You should know better than to go shouting at strangers like that! Whatever will they think of you?" she chastised the T-rex kindly as she continued to pet the giant reptile. After a moment, Akira realized what she was doing and she looked at her hand like she didn't even recognize it. "H-how did I do that?" she asked, the strange accent suddenly gone.

“I don’t know,” Vaemyn said back to her, flabbergasted. “Doctor?”

The Doctor looked back at them with a mix of astonishment and intense intrigue, his green-lit sonic probe still working away at the wall. “I’m not sure,” he said, then as the T-rex hummed under Akira’s touch, the Time Lord’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping into a comical O. “Well, I think they might be...um...flirting. Does your friend normally do that with strange dinosaurs?”

His own eyes widening in shock, Vaemyn looked between the very disproportionate new couple and the Doctor. “Flirting!? No! Well, okay, maybe she does, I don’t know Akira that well, but I know that she as a lover onboard the Hera. No, the computer disruption from the dark storm shouldn’t be disrupting her like this...””

Vaemyn’s assumption that Akira was unaffected by the widespread system corruption was incorrect; Akira was affected by the program running now, it had been corrupting her matrix, which was why she could no longer feel the walls of the holodeck or call for the arch, but it had been happening so slowly and she had been so preoccupied with other things that she never noticed the corruption burrowing its way through her firewalls. She looked at Vaemyn and the Doctor, her face full of confusion and fear.

"I don't feel so good," she said, and as soon as those words left her lips she began to flicker, her uniform being replaced by a strange armor and her face covered by a mask that looked rather reptilian in design. "What are you monkeys doing on the Ark?' she demanded, and while the voice was still hers, the tone and the accent seemed to indicate that Akira was no longer Akira.

Very conscious of the massive tyrannosaur, Vaemyn took a step backwards, holding his hands up in surrender. “Ah, Akira...we...er...”

“Took a wrong turn!” the Doctor said cheerfully, turning around and wrapping around a friendly arm around Vaemyn’s shoulders. “I’m the Doctor, and this is my friend, Vaemyn. I’m a Time Lord from Gallifrey, out in the constellation of Kasterbrous, and he’s a-“

“-Vorta, from the Dominion,” Vaemyn said hurriedly, with a touch too much enthusiasm as he caught on to what the Doctor was doing. “We were tracking some Angels, you see, and we’re trying to stop them from causing trouble...”

“So we sort of materialised onto your ship by accident, sorry about that,” the Doctor continued, still grinning. Spotting something behind the T-rex, he added, “Speaking of which...”

And then, bizarrely, the Doctor slapped a hand over Vaemyn’s eyes while he closed his own, and immediately there was a great roar from the T-rex followed by a great metallic smash as its body impacted the floor. As lizard-Akira spun around, and the Doctor and Vaemyn opened their eyes again, they saw the T-rex awkwardly getting up while an immobile winged statue stood next to it, having seemingly appeared out of thin air.

"You brought the Weeping Angels to the Ark?!" Akira bellowed in outrage. Then she looked up to her pet T-rex. "Smash the Angels!" she commanded, and with another flicker of her matrix her dark hair and blue skin was replaced by reptilian skin with crests. As the T-rex turned to swing its tail at the Weeping Angel, the now reptilian Akira drew a strange looking rifle-type energy weapon as she advanced upon Vaemyn and the Doctor.

“Ah, right, there’s a slight miscommunication going on here,” the Doctor said in a rush as the Angel was thrown into a wall with an almighty smash, the T-rex roaring in exhiliration. Unfortunately, in the literal blink of an eye, the T-rex was again flung bodily back down the corridor, staying in the air for an impossibly long time before finally hitting the floor, sliding along it until it hit the far wall, a fully fifty meters from where it had started. This was apparently the knock out blow for the giant dinosaur as it feebly tried to raise its great head before surrending into unconsciousness.

Meanwhile, another blink of the eye had the Angel standing at lizard-Akira’s shoulder, its stone hand mere centimers from touching her shoulder before it had been frozen by the Doctor and Vaemyn’s eyes. Alarmed, but trusting through deduction that this had to be part of the Doctor’s insane plan, Vaemyn focused on his crewmate.

“Akira, the Angel is behind your left shoulder,” he said anxiously, while the Doctor stared intensely at the Angel to keep it frozen. “Look, I know that you’re confused, but please trust us. We’re all on the same side here, the Angels are after all of us.”

Akira faltered in her focus on the Doctor and Vaemyn, and she stopped to look down at the weapon in her hand with confusion. Slowly, she reached up with one hand to remove the mask from her face, revealing Akira's now reptilian face.

"Vae.. myn..." Akira said uneasily as she looked at him. "Please, something's... not right... I need to get out of here," she struggled to say as this other reptilian personality tried to force its way through her.

“Programming conflict,” the Doctor said sympathetically. “Not to worry, though, I’m sure there are hologram experts who can put you right. Now, as for you,” he added theatrically, addessing the stone Angel while he snuck his right hand behind his back, “you’re too late, sunshine. Don’t be fooled by the purple skin or innocent look. My friend here is a walking temporal paradox, and I’ll bet you didn’t know that when you zapped him in here. He’s been cooking away, building to critical temporal mass, and he’s due to pop any second now.”

“I am?” Vaemyn asked uncertainly, not having the faintest idea what the Doctor was talking about.

“Yes, of course you are,” the Doctor confirmed with a cocky grin, placing a deliberate hand on Vaemyn’s shoulder with his other hand still concealed behind his back. Acting on hope, Vaemyn grabbed Akira’s scaly hand and pulled her to stand with him and the Doctor while the Time Lord kept talking to their stone foe. “All we have to do is keep you frozen for another minute or so, then the paradox matures and poof, no more Angels. Come on everyone, keep your eyes open as much as you can, we don’t have long to wait, it can’t teleport us away if we’re looking at it. This is an easy one.”

And then, as if in mockery of the Doctor’s words, the lights went out, leaving the trio in utter blackness. Vaemyn opened his mouth to scream in horror before just as suddenly, before he could even draw breath, the three of them were in one of the Hera’s brightly lit corridors.

“What?” Vaemyn said dumbly, before his brain finally engaged. The Doctor, meanwhile, was straightening his bow tie, looking supremely smug as he watched Vaemyn figure it out. “You tricked it? Into sending us back?”

The Doctor waggles his eyebrows gleefully. “That’s the thing about the Weeping Angels: they’re terrible at poker,” he explained with a wink. “They never can spot a bluff.”

"Where am I?" Akira said, but once again she had the accent indicating she wasn't quite herself. "I need to get back to the Ark so I can wake my sisters, we must defend ourselves from the Angels," she demanded.

"Oh right, I should probably do something about that," the Doctor remarked as he pulled out his trusty tool that seemed to do a little bit of everything, and aimed it at reptile-Akira.

Akira grew still as she felt this tool rearranging her matrix to bring the real Akira out, but the multitude of safeguards she had written into herself sent feedback into the Doctor's gadget, causing it to spark and the rewrite to her matrix to be left incomplete. Akira looked dazed for a moment, and when she looked at both the Doctor and Vaemyn, there was a clear sign of recognition, which should have been a good sign, until she opened her mouth to speak.

"Vermin!" Akira hissed, then she turned and fired her weapon at one of the bulkheads, exposing an entrance to the Jefferies tube system, down which she promptly disappeared.

“So that didn’t work,” Vaemyn said pointedly as he and the Doctor looked at the Jeffries tube that Akira had fled into.

After a few moments, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly as he tried to think of something to say, the Doctor finally gave up. “No, it didn’t,” he said awkwardly. After another long silence, he added contritely, “Sorry.”

Daytona made his way through the ship's corridors as he searched for Akira. If she was solid and still walking, she might still be on Deck 8, where the Senior Officer's Quarters were located. They'd been in her quarters when the storm had struck. When the call came summoning the senior officers to the bridge, Akira was out of bed in a flash and off to the bridge. If she chose to walk, she might still be on this deck. If she tried to materialize on the bridge, she obviously didn't succeed, because Mal said he'd tried to reach her. His search might be fruitless if he couldn't get the computer to locate her. Just as he was about to tap his commbadge, the environment around him changed. Suddenly he was on a sidewalk in what looked like Chicago, somewhere between the 1920s and the 1950s. The architecture was odd, making it difficult to determine exactly when the scene was set.

Daytona looked down at himself and discovered he was wearing a suit and a fedora hat. He felt the weight of a 20th century Earth firearm under his left shoulder. It was a Browning 9mm, with a 13-round magazine and one bullet in the chamber. There were three spare magazines under his right shoulder.

"What in the name of the Prime Number is going on here?" he asked no one in particular. Around him were the sights and smells of another time and place. Then he noticed something else. Almost everyone had a gun of some kind. They were everywhere. Handguns, shotguns, tommy guns. There were some gunsels on the rooftops with rifles. Daytona decided he'd better get off of the street and went into a nearby bar and restaurant. There were more armed people inside. He walked up to the bar and, figuring it couldn't hurt, ordered a beer.

Behind the bar, a woman wearing a suit and a derby hat was all but fuming. Turning around and setting a violin case on the counter, the Baroness reached under the bar, pulled out a glass stein, and worked one of the beer taps, doing her best to give the Chief Warrant Officer a beer with no head. Still fuming over the situation, she set it down in front of him. "Your bier, Herr Ral. Can you explain how I am here with a violin case full of Nazi guns rather than on ze Hera?"

"Baroness," Daytona said. "I have no idea. Commander Xustos mentioned something about the holoemitters malfunctioning. What if it was more than just the emitters? Is it possible that the holodeck programming software is malfunctioning as well? What if the holo software is generating random programs using the shipwide holoemitters? If that's the case, I'm going to assume that we're still on the Hera, but not in the holodeck, which presents a problem. Let me try something."

Daytona took a deep breath and crossed his fingers.

"Computer, end program," he said. Nothing happened. "Computer, Arch." Again, nothing happened. "Damn, that's what I was afraid of. The holo scenario is doesn't have an obvious off switch. Let's try one more thing."

Daytona searched himself. He found his commbadge fixed into a pocket watch he was wearing in his vest. He tapped it.

"Ral to Bridge," he said. Nothing. "Ral to Engineering? Ral to Security?"

Daytona sighed.

"That's what I was afraid of," he said. "The scenario has cut off communication with both our comrades and the computer itself, and because we're not on the holodeck, there's no Arch, since the Arch is the arch over the entrance to the holodeck."

Daytona looked around at the barroom.

"This looks like the Iotian Outfit's idea of gangster movie from Earth," he said. "Which is the only reason these aren't energy weapons...at least, I think they aren't energy weapons..."

Daytona carefully drew his Browning Hi-Power and ejected the magazine.

"Yep," he said. "Gunpowder propelled projectiles, 9mm in my case. I've got 13 in the box and one in the pipe, plus three more 13-round mags. What do you have?"

Schwein popped open the violin case to reveal a pair of P08 Lugers and a pair of drum magazines. Both barrel mags were fully loaded with 9mm ammo. "It looks like I have sixty four rounds and full auto." Checking the pistols, she found one more in the chamber of each. "Make that sixty six."

Daytona sighed.

"The computer couldn't have given you something a little less conspicuous?" he said. As he said this, a 5' 3" tall woman walked up to the bar carrying a Browning Automatic Rifle with a 20-round box magazine and several more of the magazines in a bandolier across her chest. On her hip, she carried an M1917 Colt .45 revolver. She leaned the BAR against the bar and took a seat.

"Whiskey," she said. "Neat."

Daytona shook his head.

"Never mind," he said. "Those ridiculous things don't look any more or less conspicuous than anything else around here."

Two men entered the bar. One was carrying a Thompson .45 ACP submachine gun (AKA Tommy Gun) with a 50-round drum magazine. The other had an 1897 Winchester pump action 12-gauge shotgun (also known as a 'trench gun'). There were bulges under both of their jackets, indicating that each one was carrying a pistol of some sort. This wasn't what caught Daytona's attention. What caught his attention was that he overheard one of them mention his name. Whoever these men were, they were looking for him.

"My dear Baroness," he said. "I think we can expect some trouble."

Lifting up her eyepatch, the baroness surveyed the scene and looked around for cover. Nodding, it seemed she found it. "When the shooting begins, get behind the bar. There is a three centimeter steel plate running across the front and top of it." She then slipped her violin case off the counter down under it, still open so she could have quick access to the pistols within. Next to where she placed it she noticed a box with some rather odd markings so she lifted the top of the wooden case... and found it full of stick grenades. "I seem to have also found a case of potato mashers... Bartender perks?"

"Daytona Ral!" one of the men shouted before Daytona could reply. "You stuck your nose in Boss Ixmyx's business one too many times!"

Daytona didn't waste anytime. He vaulted over the bar. As he passed over the bar, he reached out and grabbed the little woman's BAR. She had died while drawing her M1917 without actually getting off a shot.

The two gunsels let loose at Daytona and shot up the bar, tearing up the wood of the bar and exposing the steel plates. Daytona popped back over the bar and fired the BAR at the two men. He wasn't used to firing a machine gun, so he hit just about everyone around the two men before finally hitting the shotgun toting gangster in the shoulder. He ducked behind the bar and set down the BAR. It was useless now, since all of its spare magazines were strapped to the chest of its dead owner on the other side of the bar. He drew his pistol and looked at the Baroness.

"I guess it's your turn," Daytona said.

The Baroness had already clipped in both magazines and was ducked below the bar, ready to pop up like a jack in the box as soon as there was a break in the fire. Shaking her head at Daytona, she waited just a moment longer. Then the sounds of reloading began and she popped up and began firing rhythmically, her eyepatch still up. Leaping up onto the bar, she kicked a glass of ale into the faces of several people entering as she shot several others in a corner before shooting them as well. Walking down the bar a bit, still in plain view of those left alive, she easily shot several more patrons reaching for their guns. Within a few more seconds, the only sound left was that of her clinking brass and bodies hitting the floor. "Thirty three targets neutralized," reported the Baroness. She then shot a cop rushing into the bar in the forehead. "Thirty four. Are you injured?"

"Nope," Daytona said, brushing himself off and standing up. "Thanks. It's been a while since I fired a fully automatic projectile weapon. So, if this is a holoscenario, then we're either still in the corridor or we entered someone's quarters. If we're still in the corridor, the scenery will move with us and put us on the street. If we're in someone's quarters, then the door should be where the door is in the scenario, so we can get out of here that way. Unless you think we should hold out in here until this passes?"

"Perhaps we should confer with Crewman Sarman?" The Baroness motioned over to the one living thing left in the bar - a Bolian in a suit and tie with an M1 carbine strapped to his back and half of a gangster's brains splattered across him. Bolians aren't normally known for being silent, but this one was so stunned he looked like he had wet himself and wouldn't be talking for a week.

Hopping down off the bar and heading towards the silent Crewman, the Baroness kept an eye on both the door and the scared Bolian to make sure he didn't freak out any further. "It's ok, Sarman. We will get through this together, ja? Where were you when the simulation began?"

As the Bolian started to look down at the holographic gore all over him, Schwein set down one of her pistols and lifted his chin enough so he could only see her face and looked him in the eyes. "Keep it together Crewman. Is the door to this bar, the equivalent to the door to your quarters? Or are we in a hallway?"

He tried to look over at the door but Schwein's intense stare, with one normal eye and one red cybernetic eye brought him back to her. "The... The... It's the observation lounge outside my quarters... No one else was supposed to be here... I was just eating some rations..."

Tapping the side of her head with the pistol she still had, Schwein spoke a bit softer. "Don't worry. No one got hurt. Cybernetic eye, ja? I can see that you and Chief Ral are real while everyone else was holographic. Once this is over, go see therapy, ja?"

Sarman nodded slightly, still scared out of his whits. "Yeah... Yeah..."

Suddenly there was a loud noise outside, as if several cars had just come screeching to a halt in front of the bar. Daytona looked out the window. Sure enough, several cars had come screeching to a halt outside and men armed with Thompson guns with drum magazines were getting out of them.

"Oh good grief," Daytona said. "It seems that this Boss Ixmyx is nothing if not persistent. We need to find a way out of this part of the simulation. If the bar has a back door, even if it's a wall in real life, the simulation should move around us, and under us for that matter, allowing us to exit."

As he spoke, Daytona removed the bandolier of four, 20-round magazines for the BAR from the woman who'd brought the weapon, strapped it on, and retrieved the unwieldy BAR from behind the bar.

"I suggest we try cutting through the kitchen...NOW," he said. "If you don't want to get filled full of holographic lead, that is. And we all have to go together. If we don't, either the simulation won't move and I'm going to hit a real wall and be stuck here with you or the simulation WILL move, the front of the bar will move towards me, and you'll be on the other side of it with them."

As if to emphasize his point, from outside came the sound of around a dozen bolts being worked, prepping around a dozen Tommy guns for firing.

"Times up!" Daytona said. "Let's go!"

As Crewman Sarman showed no signs of moving, Schwein decided she would move him and pushed him towards the back door of the bar. Thankfully he got the point after that and he didn't need any more prompting. Picking up her other pistol, she headed towards the door as well, bringing up the rear and covering their escape.

Just as they made it through to the back room, the gangsters outside opened fire. Bullets shredded the bar and tore through everything inside, turning everything into swiss cheese. The Bolian Crewman ducked for cover and started crying, unable to take any more. Schwein also took cover, but was actually smiling and enjoying herself, both pistols at the ready. "Veritable blitzkrieg outside, no obvious way out, and we have a barber to protect. Not good odds, ja? Are we in shiza without the paddle yet, Chief?"

"Well," Daytona said, holding up his hand which now had his own greenish blood on it. "If we weren't sure before, now we know. The safeties are off. I'm fine, a bullet just grazed my arm. I've been shot with real bullets before. This one was pretty close to the real thing."

Daytona looked around at their surroundings as he tried to figure a way out.

"Most places like this would have had a back door," he said. "Someplace to take out the trash at least, so they wouldn't have to carry it through the front. I think the computer is adapting the scenario to the limited real world space it has to work with. So, if we can't go out the back, we're going to have to go out the front. Listen. They've stopped firing. Now their going to reload and then move in to see if we're dead or not. If we can set up a field of fire before they get in there...maybe you and Sarman behind the bar, you one of those machine pistols of yours at a time while Sarman reloads the other. They'll focus on you. The bar is good cover, steel reinforced. I'll hide behind a table off to the side and while they're concentrating on you, I'll hit them with this weapon. If we can kill them and get one of their cars, we can put some distance between us and them. But we've got to do it now."

"There are also grenades." Schwein reminded him as she made her move, popping off several rounds and taking down a few of them as she left the back room and went back to the cover of the bar. As they opened fire again, she pulled the string on the first grenade and sent it sailing right through the open window of one of their cars. A couple seconds later there was an explosion and complete chaos settled in. Only two seconds after that another explosion followed as they apparently had some explosives as well. After two more grenades, Schwein came out from behind the bar and strolled out into the street, glancing around for any more hostiles.

There were plenty.

Five of the gangsters had survived the carnage and were making their way to their feet. Her remaining ammo made quick work of four of them and for the last one, she walked up to him, let him fumble with his jammed gun, then piss himself as this apparent demon girl calmly reached up and ripped his throat out with one hand, spraying blood all over her as his gurgling last breath left him.

This was one of the reasons she kept her nails done with plasteel. You never knew when someone might plot to assassinate a member of the Artan family and you needed your hands for weapons.

She then walked back into the bar. "Area clear of hostiles!"

Daytona shook his head. He walked to the front door of the bar, kicked it open, and opened fire into the street, killing the remaining gunsels on the right, ducking behind a mailbox and reloading, then popping up and taking out the ones on the left. Wisely, no one had been standing in the center. Daytona reloaded again. The street was empty, but armed men and women were coming out of shops and restaurants up and down the street. They were looking at a billboard sign that Daytona hadn't noticed before. There was a picture of him in his suit, leering as what was apparently supposed to be a previously virginal adult daughter as she point to him and said 'That's the man who ruined me daddy! Make him pay!'. The sign said in big letters 'Daytona Ral, Cad, Rake, Defiler' and '$100,000 for proof of kill'.

"Oh good grief," Daytona said. "If I had defiled that woman, she wouldn't be asking her father to kill me, she'd be asking for more! And I'm certainly worth more than 100,000 of...whatever that denomination is!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Daytona saw movement, he turned and found a woman who had just pulled a sawed-off double barrel shotgun from...he really didn't want to know where, and was pointing it at him. Before she could shoot, Daytona had the BAR leveled at her and he pulled the trigger, a short burst...well...as short a burst as you could do with a BAR, killing her dead. Two more came at him and Daytona dropped them as well. Then a fourth. Then the BAR went 'click'. Empty. That was when Daytona realized he was out of spare magazines. It really had been a long time since he'd used a projectile weapon for serious work. Daytona dove behind a car and scooped up one of the gunsels' recently reloaded and unfired Tommy guns. It had been reloaded with another 50-round drum. Daytona felt around the body and found a few 30-round stick magazines and stuck them through his belt. Bullets slammed into the car he was hiding behind. He popped up and returned fire, then ducked again.

"If you're coming," he shouted. "We need to go now, before they trash these cars...or...you know...kill me!"

Schwein walked back out of the bar, a fresh pair of P08s tucked into her trousers and the rest of the box of grenades tucked under one arm. In one hand she had a pair of them and she pulled the strings with her teeth before lobbing both of them about forty meters down the street, one landing in the back of a truck and the other landing on the other side of it that several more gangsters were trying to hide behind. "Sorry about that. I wanted a few toys. The barber needed to get moving too." Behind her, Crewman Sarman looked like he had wet himself, but he was moving.

Pulling out another grenade and ripping the string out with her teeth again, she tossed that one the other way down the street, this time scattering several mobsters into chunky salsa before they could get away from it. She then tossed the rest of the box into one of the cars that looked like it would still run and hopped behind the driver's seat. "Get on the floorboard, Sarman! And try not to get shot!" She then looked for the ignition switch, hoping she could get this vehicle started.

Daytona wrinkled his nose at the aroma Sarman was giving off, but he was too busy walking around and grabbing spare magazines from the dead gunsels all around the cars. He had ten of the 30-round sticks stuck through his belt around his waist, and managed to score three more of the 50-round drums. He check, but no one else nearby was carrying a Browning pistol like his so he couldn't grab any extras for that. He tossed the drums in the back of the 1950 Chrysler DeSoto DeLuxe and climbed in the after them. The back window was a little shot up, and it was only going to get in the way anyway, so Daytona took a moment and finished breaking the glass, clearing room for him to fire out the back if they were pursed...and for the smell of Sarman's accident to flow freely out.

It took the pirate a moment longer to get the antique car started and not a moment too soon before a trio of housewives started unloading on them with rifles from shop windows. Thankfully they weren't very good shots but they still hit the car doors a couple times as Schwein floored the accelerator. The power wasn't exactly what she expected, but it got them down the street and away from the current scene towards a less bullet-infested area. As the Baroness drove faster down the street something strange started happening. The feeling of motion vanished and the scene outside started showing signs of degradation as if the scenario was unable to keep up with them and starting to break apart. "Do you see what I see, Chief?"

"That the world is falling apart?" Daytona replied. "Yes. If this were the holodeck, the emitters would be able to handle the car's speed and keep pace. The emitters on the rest of the ship are designed to create functional holographic people, Emergency Medical Holograms, etc, which is why they can handle Maica and...Akira...Prime Number please let her be safe...anyway, I don't think the emitters in the corridor are numerous enough to handle moving terrain. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll overload."

"In that case..." The Baroness doubled down, shifted gears and floored the gas pedal, hoping to overload the already straining emitters and watching the scenery break down around them.

Daytona was thrown back against the rear seat when the Baroness hit the accelerator. He recovered just in time to see two cars pull into the street from side streets and take up pursuit. The cars were flickering in and out of existence, but when they were in existence, Daytona could see that there was a gunsel armed with a Tommy gun leaning out of the front passenger window. The gunsel opened fire. Some of the bullets hit the car, others evaporated before they arrived. Daytona tried aiming his own Tommy gun out the back window to return fire, but encountered some difficulty when the weapon, along with his period suit, kept flickering in and out of existence. He really got nervous when the car began to flicker. Luckily it remained solid enough that no one fell through the bottom...for now.

"This might be working a little too well, my dear Baroness!" Daytona said. He managed to get a few shots off here and there, but between the moving vehicles and the fluctuating holographic weapon, clothes, cars, and other scenery, he didn't really hit much.

Suddenly a truck hauling freight pulled out in front of them and while Schwein tried to swerve to avoid it, things didn't go so well. What was left of the car swerved and glitched halfway into a building. The occupants were unceremoniously dumped in the middle of the street as the scenario began to stabilize around them. About half of their guns and ammo were dumped with them and not in any meaningful order.

As schwein stood up, she looked over one of her P08 pistols. Half of it was in her hand and not the half that could fire. The other one was solid, but the barrel magazine was missing. Tossing both aside, she looked for the box of grenades only to discover half of them... the half with the handles...

Then there was some pretty villainous gangster laughter coming from where the truck had pulled out of followed by the sound of an old gatling gun and several Tommy guns being loaded.

Daytona was similarly unarmed and looked like he'd had enough.

"Alright," he called out to the gangsters as he stepped between the gunsels and the braroness and the barber with his hands raised. "Enough. This is ridiculous. I haven't...deflowered anyone in months. I never saw that girl before in my life, so whatever she's telling you is a lie, I'm sorry to say."

"Youse callin' my baby girl a liar?" boomed a voice as a large man came out from behind the truck. "Because if dats da case, you are gonna be sorry...real sorry."

Daytona took in the site of the large man in the fancy suit with a pearl-handled, nickle-plated, Colt M1911 .45ACP in his right hand, flanked by two Tommy gun wielding gunels. One of the gunsels was a textbook example of a 'no-necked rhino' and the other had an unusually large forehead.

"Boss Ixmyx, I presume?" Daytona said. "And your friends there? No, let me guess...Nicky the Neck and Frankie the Forehead?"

The two gunsels growled and made as if to fire on Daytona but their weapons...not to mention their bodies were fading in and out. So was Boss Ixmyx, who stopped his boys from shooting.

"No, boys," he said. "This bastard is all mine."

Ixmxy raised his Colt pistol, which was once again solid and aimed at Daytona. He slowly squeezed the trigger, savoring the moment and making sure he wouldn't miss. The hammer dropped and there was a pop, almost like a large caliber gunshot, followed by several more pops and a flash of light as the holoemitters on the deck all catastrophically failed. Daytona closed his eyes to protect them and when he opened them, he was back in his uniform, so was the Bolian barber, and the Baroness was in the civvies she'd been wearing before the whole mess started. All traces of 'gangland' were gone.

"Well," Daytona said. "That was exciting. Baroness, if you wouldn't mind seeing to Sarman, I need to go find Akira. With the holoemitters on the fritz, she could be in real trouble."

Without waiting for an answer, Daytona took off down the corridor, tapping his commbadge and calling around to see if anyone had seen Akira.

Hermes' ship, the Autolykos, had been following the Hera, cloaked and staying in sensor shadows, when the storm appeared...out of nowhere, catching the ship's autopilot (Hermes and Lyra were asleep at the time) completely off guard. The ship jolted to a halt and inertial dampeners fluctuated just long enough for the sudden stop to dump Hermes and Lyra unceremoniously out of their warm bed and onto the deck, but not long enough for them to be turned into chunky salsa. Hermes shook his head to clear it, rose, and helped Lyra to her feet.

"Are you alright?" Hermes asked his lover.

"I'm alright," Lyra replied softly, but her hands were shaking slightly within his grasp. "What happened?" she asked, both curious and fearful; Lyra was not yet accustomed to living in space, so while everything new still filled her with a sense of wonder, she sometimes could not shake the fear that also followed her.

"I'm not entirely sure," Hermes replied. "Autolykos, status report."

Nothing.

"Autolykos, status report," Hermes tried again as he began to dress. "Okay, that's strange. My ship is nearly immune to most...oh Hades."

Hermes strapped on his belt and wrist devices and began to work one of the wrist devices. A holo display came up. Hermes frowned.

"Just what I thought," he said. "A dark matter storm. It should pass us by. Good news is, we're still moving, so that might speed up our passage through the storm. I could do more to ensure that from the bridge, but it looks like the self-repair systems need a little more time to get the helm up and running...so...wait, what's that sound?"

To Hermes, it sounded like a raucous party was being thrown in the main cabin of the ship. He turned to Lyra.

"We'd better finish getting dressed and go see what's going on out there," Hermes said. "Either we have stowaways or..."

A few more taps on his wrist device.

"Strange," he said. "There seems to be some kind of holo scenario running out there."

"Like a holo-suite?" Lyra asked as she finished getting dressed. She had been in a holo-suite a few times, but the Ferengi running the establishment had charged so much, she had to save up for months just to spend an hour in there, and all she wanted to do was visit someplace sunny! "Do you know what program is running? H-how did it start without any commands?" she asked; she didn't know a lot about space ships, but she knew that generally programs didn't randomly start unless given the command to do so.

"I'm not sure," Hermes responded. "Autolykos is a bit frazzled at the moment. He isn't really responding. I'm bypassing him and directly accessing the ship's systems, but many of those systems appear to be on the fritz, as the saying goes. The main cabin isn't really a holosuite, but it does have holoemitters. It sounds pretty lively out there, my love, but we've seen our share of 'lively' gatherings back on Eis Mosely. How bad can this be compared to those barroom brawls? Regardless, we need to pass through there to get to the bridge. Shall we?"

Hermes offered his arm to Lyra.

Lyra hooked her arm in his. "We have seen 'lively' but that sounds downright rowdy; are you sure it's safe?" she asked.

Hermes practically 'hmmfed'.

"Tsk, tsk, my love," he said, self-deprecating humor obvious in his voice. "I'm a GOD, remember! Okay, well, not REALLY a god, but I'm still in the neighborhood of 'god-like'! What are wads of photons in the form of men when compared to my Olympian might?"

Just then, the doors to the main cabin opened and they were suddenly in the middle of a scene of intoxication and debauchery that would have put Dionysus to shame. There were pirates, male and female, and pirate wenches...male and female. On first glance, Hermes noted at least 4 couples, two trios, and one quad engaged in drunken sexual activity. Everyone else was just drunk, plain and simple. There was the sound of breaking glass as bottles were thrown across the room. Hermes glanced towards where the entrance to the bridge would be and, standing there, blocking the path, were two pirates, both of whom had to be over two meters tall and weigh almost 140 kilograms each.

"Oookay," Hermes said. "This is a bit more lively than I was expecting. It's also going to be more disorienting to move around in there than with the normal programs. This fake room is larger than the actual room. The emitters are going to compensate for that difference as we move."

One of the female tavern wenches could be heard teasing a group of pirates.

"Hey, hoy, sailor boy, want it snugly harbored? Open be gate, but dock it straight! I see it lists to starboard!" (OOC: Sweeney Todd, Stephen Sondheim)

The wench squealed in mock terror and real joy as the pirates grabbed at her and tossed her coin, trying to win her favor.

Hermes cautiously led Lyra into the main cabin...and the door to their cabin shut and immediately disappeared, becoming one with the scenery.

"Well," Hermes said. "We're in it to win it now."

Lyra leaned in cautiously to discreetly say to Hermes, "I don't do this kind of 'lively'."

"Well," Hermes said. "I haven't really been into this kind of thing for a few thousand years, either, and even then, at least I had standards. Let's try and stroll over to the bridge and see what happens. And, uhm...try not to touch anything if you can help it."

Hermes knew the whole thing was fake, a collection of photons, but he still didn't like the idea of touching whatever photonic DNA was all over the place in this scenario.

His caution not to touch anything had Lyra gazing at everything around them with a hint of disgust and even a shudder; the place she had worked in before was a bit of a dump, but at least there wasn't copious amounts of DNA everywhere.

"Right..." Lyra said uneasily as she held tight to Hermes' arm.

Hermes and Lyra threaded their way through the crowd. They had to duck a few times to dodge flying bottles and mugs, both Hermes and Lyra had to punch out a few pirates who tried to take liberties with one or both of them (these were very open minded pirates). The finally arrived at what Hermes was pretty sure were the doors to the bridge. He looked at the two 'guards' at the door while they steadfastly ignored the faux god and his lover.

"Uhm...excuse me," Hermes said. The two guards said nothing, didn't even acknowledge his existence. He took another step closer to the doors and the two giants moved closer together to block them. Hermes was considering doing something stupid when he heard a voice behind him. He turned to face the man who was speaking to him.

"Argh, Matey," said a pirate dressing in what had once been a nice suit of clothing from Earth's 18th Century Europe, but was showing some wear and tear around the edges. He had two female pirates flanking him. "The name's Calico Jack Rackham, and these here are Anne Bonny and Mary Read. I take it ye'll be wanting to get through those doors, then?"

"Well...yes, we would," Hermes said. "What do we have to do to get past your...uhm...large friends here?"

"Ye have to prove your mettle by drinking me under the table, or drinking until I pass out!" Calico Jack said with a nasty grin on his face.

"Oh no you don't!" said the pirate introduced as Anne Bonny said. "When you get too drunk, you have problems with...mast stiffness, if ya catch me meaning, and Mary and me has plans for ye later. Me an' Mary will take these two on. They look like a couple of lightweights anyhow."

Mary Read walked up and cupped Hermes causing him to jump.

"Ha!" she said after she'd released Hermes. "Maybe not that much of a lightweight!"

Hermes actually blushed, more for Lyra's sake than his own. Drunken parties in ancient Greece and Rome were just as bawdy as this and he'd been just as bawdy while attending those. However, Lyra, while incredibly fun in bed, wasn't really into this scene.

"Uhm, let me confer with my lady before we take you up on that offer," Hermes said. He turned around and huddled with Lyra. "Well, what do you think? Can we take them? If they're simulated Humans, we've got a good chance of winning...I hope."

"I'm half human," Lyra pointed out with a pout. "My grandparents immigrated," she said in her family's defense, then thought about this challenge. "Well, these fellows may visit taverns for recreation, but working at a bar is an entirely different beast; it would be rude to turn down a drink offered by the patrons, and I got a lot of offers..." she said with exasperation. She eyed the two women who would be their challengers, then nodded. "I think I can do it."

"I have absolute faith in you, my love," Hermes said. He turned back to the pirates. "We're in. If we're still standing at the end of this, you'll let us through those doors?"

"Aye, Matey," Calico Jack said. "Right this way."

The pirate jumped on a table while Anne and Mary shooed the pirates and wenches sitting at the table away, some at pistol point.

"Alrighty, assembled lads and lasses!" he shouted. When no one even looked at him, he drew a huge flintlock pistol from his belt and fired it into the air. There was a tremendous BOOM, then a quacking noise, then a dead duck fell from the ceiling. Jack looked at the dead duck, shrugged, and pushed on, now that everyone stopped carousing and had turned their attention to him. "As I was sayin'. These two here want to go through those there doors! Do we let just anyone through those doors?"

The pirates roared and booed and and generally made a ruckus until finally Anne Bonny drew a huge flintlock pistol from her belt and fired it into the air. There was an enormous BOOM, then a honking noise, and then a dead goose fell from the ceiling. Anne looked at the dead goose where it landed, shrugged, then nodded for Jack to continue.

"Thank ye, me dear," Jack said. He turned to the assembled crowd. "That's right. Ye have to be one of us to get through those doors. And how do ye prove you're one of us?"

"Drink!" the gathered pirates chanted. "Drink! Drink! Drink!"

The pirates got rowdy again, so much so that again Calico Jack had trouble getting them to settle. Mary Read rolled her eyes. She drew a huge flintlock pistol from her belt and fired it into the air. There was an enormous BOOM, then a gobble, then a large, dead turkey fell from the ceiling, landing on a pirate's head and knocking him to the ground. Mary looked at the dead turkey, shrugged, then nodded to Jack to continue.

"That's right!" Jack said. "So it'll be a drinking contest then, between my ladies, Anne Bonny and Mary Read, and the newcomers! Come ladies and gentleman. Sit."

Hermes led Lyra to the table and took a seat. One of the barmaid brought over several jugs of what Hermes assumed was rum, and some mugs, set them down on the table, and poured four full mugs of rum.

"Ready?" Jack asked. Anne and Mary nodded, feral grins on their faces. Hermes nodded, then looked at Lyra.

"Let's do this," Lyra said and grabbed a mug, not waiting for the 'go' to start drinking.

"I like her, she's got spunk," Anne replied.

"Should make things more interesting," Mary chimed in as she took her mug and started drinking.

"And...GO!" Jack yelled.

The pirates gathered around started cheering and jeering as Anne and Mary began downing their mugs of rum. Hermes tossed back his mug and almost choked. The computer had compensated for his physiology and made his rum stronger at least. It was a good bet that Lyra's was strong, but normal strong, not hyped up like what he was being given. As the drinkers drank, the bar wenches filled up the extra mugs so as to give the contestants as little time as possible between drinks. Hermes tossed them back, one after the other. He tried to drag it out as long as possible, but he was starting to get a lightheaded. Meanwhile, Mary, who sat across from him, was also starting to sway. Hermes returned her feral grin as he began to feel like the room was starting to sway just a bit.

"What' the matter, lass? Going a bit slow there, aren't ya?" Anne remarked in between mugs as she watched Lyra take her time with her mug.

"It's called 'pacing', not that you'd know what that means, what with the kind of men you fancy in this place," Lyra shot back as she tossed her now empty mug aside and took another one. "'One and done', is that how it goes in this place? You know you might actually enjoy it if you take your time."

With that last remark, Anne threw her mug at Lyra, which Lyra was still clear-headed enough to move out of the way to avoid getting hit, but she still got a bit wet. Maybe she had that coming, but it was hardly the worst thing that had ever happened to her in a bar. Still, she felt confident in her 'slow and steady' approach and grinned at Anne.

"I don't like her so much anymore," Anne grumbled as she took another mug to replace the one she'd thrown.

The room was definitely moving now, at least from Hermes point of view, but, much to Hermes' pleasure, Mary was starting to look a little green around the gills. Hermes hoped he was still nimble enough to dodge if Mary suddenly spewed at him.

"You know shumthing," Hermes said to Mary, slurring his words. "Yur a lot betty..batty...better looking now that I'm intix...intoxi...intoxicalated...drunk. I can almosht shee what Calico Jack shees in ya!"

Mary moved to throw her mug at Hermes, but in doing so, she knocked over his mug and he bent over to pick it up just as she threw it. The heavy pewter mug smashed into the face of a nearby pirate and an knocked him unconscious. The pirates all roared in laughter. Hermes rose up again and handed the mug to a wench. He looked confused at the laughter.

"What'd I mish?" he asked unsteadily as a wench handed him a full mug. "Whats show funny?"

The crowd laughed even hard as Mary scowled at him as she sat swaying in her chair.

"Just drink, SCALLYWAG!" she yelled, and knocked back another mug full.

Hermes sighed and drank down his mug, again slowly, to try and drag things out so he didn't puke. Unfortunately going slow didn't really help. He had to match Mary drink for potent drink.

Lyra was starting to sway; she knew how to hold her liquor as much as the next barmaid, but this was getting ridiculous! Not that Anne was looking much better, but Lyra was doubting whether she could win.

"Pick up the 'pace', lassssh, yer a whole mug behind me," Anne said with a grin as she moved on to her next round.

Which meant that even if Anne managed to pass out first, Lyra would still have to match her number in order to win. They were both swaying pretty bad, but Lyra wasn't going to stop now.

Hermes was now officially drunk off his ass, three sheets to the wind, or whatever you wanted to call it. Fortunately, so was Mary Read. The two of them each held a mug full of rum as they stared each other, each trying to psych the other out.

"Drink, Drink, Drink!" Chanted the pirates.

Hermes and Mary narrowed their eyes as they sized each other up. Did they both have room for another mug of rum? Did either of them? Between his spinning head and full bladder, Hermes wasn't sure if he could get another one down. But the dark matter storm made this area too dangerous to remain in, and Hermes couldn't leave Lyra in danger, not to mention the fact that Mal and his friends were counting on him. He nodded at Mary. Mary nodded at him. On a silent count of three, the two of them raised their mugs and drank, slowly, very slowly. When they finished, the two of them sat their swaying, glaring at each other. Then, suddenly, Mary's stomach heaved, then heaved again. Stumbling in a drunken stupor, Hermes, who realized what was about to happen, half jumped, half stumbled out of his chair as he dove to the side. He got out of the way just before Mary projectile puked through the place he'd been sitting just a second before. Without him there to block the vomit, it went straight into a group of onlookers who recoiled, unsuccessfully trying to get out of the way. By some miracle, it missed Lyra. Other pirates hauled Hermes to his feet and somehow he managed to stay standing on his own. Meanwhile, Mary had passed out when she was done vomiting. Hermes had won his contest. Now it was down to Lyra and Anne.

Apparently just watching that disgusting display was enough to cause Anne to gag. She put her mug down and held her stomach, trying to keep her liquids down. She swallowed back some rummy bile, then rose to her feet, staggered a few steps, then promptly fell over, knocking over another pirate in the process. Said pirate simply shrugged, then picked up the half-conscious woman and hauled her off to someplace private where they could get better acquainted.

Lyra was not doing any better as she struggled not to lose it as well after watching Mary projectile vomit. And even though Anne was down for the count, to win Lyra needed to down one more mug. With a shaky hand, she lifted that mug off the table and started to drink; she never wanted to see another bottle of alcohol ever again! Or at the very least, no more rum...

"Done!" Lyra said with relief as she slammed her empty mug on the table, then she looked up at Hermes. "I vote we desh...desht...deshtroy thish program when you reg...regay...regain control of your ship," she said, barely able to keep her eyes open.

"Ish funny," Hermes said, swaying in place. "I have no id...hic...idea where thish program even came from..."

Calico Jack was trying to get everyone's attention again without much success. He got the attention of one of his crew, who, at Jack's nod, pulled an gigantic flintlock pistol from his belt, pointed it at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger. There was an enormous BOOM, then a grumbling, rumbling, growling type sound, and a dead emu fell from the ceiling and landed on the unsuspecting pirate's head, killing him dead. Jack looked at the dead emu and the dead pirate, shrugged, and turned back to the now silent crowd.

"Well now!" he said. "It seems that the strangers have won this contest. Shall we give 'em their reward?"

"AYE!" shouted the pirates as one.

"Ye heard the decision, ye mindless brutes!" Jack said. "Stand aside and let'em through! Best of luck ta ye, strangers! May the wind be always at yer backs!"

The huge guardians moved aside, the doors opened, and the entire scenario disappeared. Pirates, wenches, bar, and booze...all of it. The bridge could be seen through the doors. Hermes helped Lyra to lean against a couch and then stumbled into the bridge. Somehow, he managed to set the ship on a direct course out of the storm at the best, while still the safest, speed. He managed to get the autopilot working, too. Then he rose, stumbled back to the main cabin, walked up to Lyra and gently scooped her up into his arms. Barely managing to keep his balance, he carried her off to their cabin.

"Come on, Beautiful Lady," he said, a silly grin on his face. "We're to bed. Unlike Rackham, I'd don't have problems with mash...mast stiffness, even when I'm drunk!"

Lyra belched as Hermes picked her up, and then his words fell on deaf ears as she promptly started snoring.

Hermes chuckled.

"Sshleep my shweetheart," Hermes said as they crossed the threshold of their quarters. "Sshleep. You've earned it. But please don't piss the bed. I'm not into golden ssshhowers..."

Hermes lay Lyra down on the bed. He took off her shoes and got her comfortable, then set off for the head. Once there, he voided his bladder for what felt like ten minutes. When he was done, he stumbled back to the bedroom, somehow managed to get out of his clothes without killing himself, and snuggled up to Lyra under the covers, letting the warmth of her body soothe him, enjoying her pleasant presence now, since they were both going to have terrible hangovers when they woke up.

Nexi sighed as she leaned back into the steamy mineral water; she wasn't normally a fan of 'soaking' or 'relaxing', but after what she had been through recently, she was willing to give this stuff a try. She was starting to remember some things, but most of her past was still a vague blank, and then the other day Danu had dropped the massive news that Nexi was effectively immortal; she could be killed with great effort, but as long as she didn't take fatal damage she would always heal and she would barely age. It was a lot to take in, more than any person should ever have to bear; and to think, some people actually wanted eternal life...

A nearby splash caught Nexi's attention, and she looked over to see Aewia splashing around in the waterfall. Apparently, Danu's idea of a 'bathing' was a waterfall and a hotspring, although now that Nexi was in here she could kind of see the merit in it. But now that her attention was on Aewia, Nexi wondered what they were going to do; Aewia had been reduced to a child-like state, which Danu informed Nexi was how she had been before the Black Blood, and Aewia was still having flashbacks from the Master being in her head. At the moment, she was joyous and carefree, but that could shatter at any moment if a bad memory decided to resurface, and Nexi worried about both of their futures.

As Aewia splashed a bit more, the silky hot water soothed her and eventually she calmed down and let herself drift off a bit, relaxing into the water. This hot spring waterfall was definitely one of her favorite things about this place. Then a somewhat mature thought struck her. "Sis, if we get better, we'll have to leave here, right? Do you think we'll get better?"

"Do you wanna stay?" Nexi asked curiously. Of course, she wanted them both to get better, but what was better for either of them?

Aewia furrowed her brow as she thought it over. "I don't know. I want to see our other friends but it's nice here. What do you want?"

"I don't know either," Nexi replied, leaning against the stones lining the spring so she could reach out to take Aewia's hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. "And I want us to get better, I just don't know what 'better' is anymore..."

"Better is not hurting anymore," replied Aewia, squeezing Nexi's hand back and giving her a smile. "Or at least not as much as yesterday."

"Speaking of, how's your head?" Nexi asked. "I know you still have night terrors, but has the pain gone away?" Nexi's own hurt was much deeper because she didn't know who she was anymore; she could remember bits and pieces here and there, but not enough to reconstruct her identity. Even reading about her past hadn't been enough, she still felt so aimless, not to mention that sometimes she still had that primal urge to attack her own sister for reasons she still had trouble comprehending, but with their bond growing stronger every day, this urge was getting easier and easier to dismiss.

"It still feels like I have two brains inside of me sometimes... But it's getting better." Nodding Aewia moved closer to Nexi. "And the voices are fading too. I only hear my own most of the time now."

"That's good," Nexi said, sliding even closer so she could loop her arm around Aewia's shoulder. "I know I'm supposed to be helping you, but I feel so lost myself that when you hurt, I don't know how to help you." Nexi was never this open about her feelings before the Black Blood, so maybe all these changes in her weren't all bad.

"Just let your instincts be your guide for now," Danu said, smiling at them from the edge of the hot springs bath. "How are the two of you doing today so far? A bit better, I hope?"

"Fuck, how do you do that?" Nexi said with frustration. Danu didn't look all that stealthy, and it set Nexi on edge with how easily the woman could sneak up on her. Nexi ran a hand over her face to help wipe away the surprise, then contemplated the question. "We're okay, I guess; maybe a little restless, but it does feel kinda nice taking the time to get my head right. and I think I'm done cooking over here..."

Nexi pulled herself out of the steamy water to sit atop the edge of the bath to let her skin cool off and air dry for a moment. Physically, she was in excellent shape, the residual effects of the Black Blood seemed to be keeping her in good condition despite the somewhat sedentary convalescence, her damp skin glistening over well-toned muscle. The only sign of any damage was the scar on her shoulder where she had been run through by the Amazon blade; the Black Blood had accelerated the healing to leave black scar tissue behind, although now it was smooth and soft like the rest of her skin, and she was considering getting some ink done so that the scar actually looked like something cool.

Aewia waved happily to Danu and hopped up on the edge of the bath as well. "I knew she was there. She feels like lavender and cotton."

The old goddess just chuckled before motioning towards another open part of the gardens. "Your last tests gave some interesting results. If you don't mind, I'd like you to try something. Something that only one of my kind has been able to pull of, to my knowledge."

Lavender and cotton? Nexi had no idea what the hell that even meant, but she had the sense that she had long since given up on trying to make sense of Aewia's unusual perspectives. Since... Sense?

"Yeah, sure," Nexi finally replied to Danu, then rose to her feet and grabbed a robe. She put the robe on as she followed Danu, peeking behind to make sure that Aewia was following them. "So these results, are they interesting good or interesting bad?"

"Just interesting so far," replied Danu as they headed towards a wooden sparring dummy that had been set up with iron nails in it. Pulling Aewia and herself to the side, she motioned to it. "Ok, stand back... And shock it."

"Shock it? From here?" Nexi asked dubiously. She didn't remember using her abilities, but she could feel it in her bones, she knew she shouldn't be able to shock things from a distance, that she required direct contact. But Danu wouldn't ask for this demonstration if she didn't have some hunch she was working off of, so Nexi raised a hand and gave it a try. She felt the current welling up to a bright and violent display. It was strange, despite the lack of memory, it felt like it shouldn't be this vivid or blue; wasn't it gold? Whatever Danu had discovered, she was definitely onto something! With intent and purpose, Nexi launched the sparking blue energy at the dummy, missing with the first try, but then she got both hands into it and was able to direct the violent current with more accuracy. Striking the dummy, it jumped and sparked, and the wood would be forever marred by a web of electrical burns.

"Whoa!" Nexi said with awe, staring at her hands as they continued to hum with their electrical current.

Danu and Aewia both clapped excitedly at the display. Danu stepped forward, pulling a blue and silver shortsword from under her robes and handing it to Nexi. "Try again with this. It might help you to control it." She then stepped back again.

Nexi breathed heavily as she took the sword; maybe she was capable of greater electrical feats now, but she wasn't used to expending so much energy! But she felt she was good for one more try; directing her current through the sword as a conduit felt strange and unfamiliar, but it did the trick, allowing the charge to remain as one cohesive jolt that split the dummy into splinters, the force so great that it sent a few of the nails shooting out.

"Fuck, I didn't catch you with that, did I?" Nexi asked, more for Aewia's sake than Danu's, but she also didn't want to end up on Danu's bad side either.

Aewia was holding a still smoking iron nail that had been flying towards Danu's head. Danu just chuckled the same way she always did and patted Aewia on the back. "Excellent reflexes, my dear! And Nexi, I think that was marvelous! Why, with a little practice I think the two of you could be my champions!"

"Champions?" Nexi asked, but then the sword slipped from her hand and fell to the grass; with the adrenaline fading, Nexi suddenly realized how weak she felt, and it occurred to her that she might have to recondition herself to using her abilities like this. "Ohoooh, this... oh, my head..." Nexi said incoherently as her vision began to blur.

It only took a moment for Danu to be at her side and for the green healing glow to start to come from her hand in an attempt to recharge Nexi. "Sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. I should explain... Your people naturally generate electricity but it's normally just small shocks. Sometimes enough to knock someone out with contact. Your experiences have reconfigured that ability into a similar organ to that of Apollo and Thor, who can throw lightning. This was your first time so naturally you strained yourself. I'm sorry, my child."

"Yeah... I kind of remember something like that, but it's still fuzzy," Nexi said as she let Danu tend to her. "I know it's never been like this before, and that really took it out of me," she added, still breathing a little hard, but her vision was starting to clear up thanks to whatever Danu was doing to her. "Okay seriously, what did you mean by 'champions'?"

As Danu continued her healing, she explained. "Well in the past, various gods have chosen mortals to go on heroic quests for them. Sometimes they were made demigods or were born that way or some such... Anyway, the point is, we don't do our own dirty work just like most people. Hence the need for contracted champions. Once you feel up to it, if you and your sister want the job it's yours. You might even get contracts from the others from time to time as well, but you shouldn't feel too inclined to accept them."

"Great, is this some form of indenture for you healing us?" Nexi couldn't remember why the idea of that bothered her so much; she fully expected to have to offer something up as payment to show her gratitude, but if this amounted to slavery then she wasn't sure the payoff was worth it.

"No, but I would be appreciative. The missions I would offer you would be to help and save others so in a way you would be paying it forward. You could also turn those missions down as well." After a few more moments, Danu finished up and let Nexi go. "It's completely up to you, but if you do, I'll do my best to guide and train you. I'll also call in a few favors and have your ship upgraded. THAT would be a favor you would owe me. Nothing more."

"I won't be a slave... Again?" Nexi winced as a memory tried to bubble forth, something she clearly didn't want to remember. "I was a slave to a.... Ferengi..." Then she uttered a curse in Ferengi and shook her head. "I don't want to remember this..."

"Those memories may serve you well in the future, but no, you will never be a slave again. I forbid it. You are the master of your own destiny from now on." Danu folded her hands resolutely, having made a statement of fact. "As are you, my child," she added, turning to look at Aewia who was still looking at the iron nail she had caught by reflex, turning it over in her fingers.

Looking up as if it had just dawned on her where they were, Aewia's eyes went wide with realization. "Oh. I... I caught this. I'm like a superhero now or something. Like the old holo-comics. That was..." Her eyes narrowed as memories also started to flood her mind of her younger days. "My parents..."

Nexi recognized the look in Aewia's eyes, and suddenly her own troubles were forgotten as Nexi moved to embrace her sister. "It's okay, kiddo," Nexi said as she ran her hand over Aewia's hair; the gesture felt awkward, like she wasn't used to doing it, but it still came from the heart. While Aewia worked through her memories, Nexi looked back at Danu. "We may not be slaves, but we won't be pawns either; whatever jobs you have for us, you be straight up with us about the details, no subterfuge. So if you want to send us out on a potential suicide mission, we have the right to know, and the right to turn it down if we want to."

Danu bowed slightly. "I strive for honestly and besides, if you were lost the universe would feel a great loss at your passing. I would rather avoid that."

Aewia was working through the memories slowly as she hugged her sister back. "Our parents are dead, aren't they? You told me that. I... I think I need some ice cream..."

Nexi nodded to Danu, a sort of informal acceptance. "I'll need to learn to use these new skills of mine before I try to go out, but... your terms seem fair enough." Although that did bring to mind that group she had traveled with before, those 'Starfleet' people she couldn't quite remember, and she wondered how this whole 'champion' thing would affect their plans to reunite with those people. But it was an issue she could tackle later, right now Aewia needed her attention.

"Let's go, kiddo, I think I hear a bowl of double fudge brownie ice cream calling your name," Nexi said to her sister. "And let's get you something to wear," she added with a chuckle when it finally dawned on her that Aewia was still naked from the bath.

Daytona had been looking throughout the ship for Akira for hours with no luck. Well, the portion of the last seventeen hours that wasn't stuck in the Iotian Outfit's version of a 1950s gangster movie, that is. That little adventure had fried most of the holoemitters on Deck 8. Communications were buggy, so he'd resorted to looking for Akira the old fashion way, corridor by corridor, stopping now and again to try and locate her using the computer to track her program. The ultimate result of those were to give him slightly sore feet and a bit of a headache. Only centuries of training and experience kept him from panicking. His search finally took him to the holodeck. He hadn't looked there because Akira really, really didn't like the holodeck and he thought it unlikely that she would voluntarily go there. When he arrived, he found Lieutenant Vaemyn outside, along with a civilian he'd never met, or at least a crewmember in civilian clothing.

"Lieutenant," Daytona said. "Sorry to interrupt...whatever this is you have going on here, but have you seen Akira? When we encountered the dark matter storm she popped into her uniform and ran off towards the conference room, I assume, but she never arrived. I got caught in a holographic scenario glitch on Deck 8, but other than that I've been searching for her pretty much since Commander Xustos told me that she was missing from the briefing, with no luck...why are you all looking at me like that?"

“Oh,” Vaemyn said uncomfortably, shifting on his feet while the man in the bow-tie and suit pointed an odd cylindrical device at an alcove that bore a Jeffries tube hatch. “Chief Ral. I was about to start looking for Akira, so you have excellent timing. She just fled down that Jeffries tube.”

Daytona's eyes narrowed. He looked at the tube and almost jumped in after Akira, but decided he'd probably better figure out what was going on.

"Fled down that Jeffries tube?" he said, just a bit of menace in his voice. "Why did she 'flee' down a Jeffries tube? What or who was she fleeing? What did you do? Quick explanations, if you would be so kind, Lieutenant. She can move faster than me if she wants to and she doesn't have to get tired or fatigued if she doesn't feel like it. I don't have time to dally here."

Before Vaemyn could even open his mouth, the man in the bow tie stepped over to them, fiddling his cylindrical device. “Guessing you’re the boyfriend, yes?” At Vaemyn’s confirming nod, the man winced. “Right. Well, I’m the Doctor, a self-aware holoprogram, nice to meet you, and I’m really very sorry to inform you that your friend had a slight mishap in the holodeck. The holodeck program infected her core routines through her audiovisual receptors, bypassing her firewalls, so now Akira thinks that she’s...well...a Silurian warrior.”

Daytona looked at the blonde man calling himself 'The Doctor'.

"Doctor?" Daytona said. "Doctor who? Never mind, I really don't care. What in the name of the Prime Number is a 'Silurian'?"

Daytona didn't even want to get into the idea of Akira being a warrior. As a sentient hologram, she could make herself very strong and vast and nearly invulnerable. You couldn't really hurt a photonic being with your fists, and not with normal phaser fire or melee weapons or projectile weapons, either. Any damage would be simulated and a sentient hologram could simply repair it. Akira blink around the ship at will (at least to anywhere there were functional holoemitters), directly access any of the ship's systems and turn them up or down, on or off, at will. In other words, she could cause utter mayhem if she went hostile.

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply but Vaemyn interrupted him, realising that Daytona wasn’t in the mood for a long-winded story. “A reptilian biped, Chief. She’s armed with some sort of energy weapon which she discharged at us, but her behaviour suggests fear, not true hostility Moreover, I am certain that the code infection cannot erase or overwrite her program, but merely supress it. We can help her, I assure you. Repairing her matrix will be relatively simple when we find her.”

Daytona took a deep cleansing breath. His impression of Vaemyn was that he was a competent officer, possibly more, but Daytona hadn't had the opportunity to assess the man in action.

Well, he'd damned well shine brightly here today!

"Alright, Lieutenant, Doctor," Daytona said. "How do we catch up to her and then contain her long enough that we can try to talk some sense into her, get her calm enough that we can try to reboot her? Does she realize she's a hologram? If she starts blinking around the ship...there are ways to track her, but we'll have to work very hard to keep up with her, let alone get ahead of her."

The Doctor and Vaemyn glanced at each other, plainly uncertain, before the former shook his head. “No, that shouldn’t be an issue,” the Doctor said with dismissive confidence, smiling reassuringly. “The Silurian in your girlfriend can’t flick around the ship any more than Akira can consciously flirt with a tyrannosaur. The two consciousnesses are at war with each other, fighting with each other, but they can only steal data from the other, not abilities.”

Vaemyn nodded in agreement, although he looked at Daytona with sympathy as he spoke next. “This is the difficult part, however. I can do some emergency surgery on her matrix to mitigate the damage, and we can probably fabricate a digital cage to keep Akira contained for that, but it will be impossible to force her into that cage. We cannot harm or incapacitate her, not with the ship’s computer so compromised by the dark storm.”

Which was an unpleasant reminder that Vaemyn was taking time from that task to focus on Miss Zhuri’s plight, and he suddenly fell silent upon realising it. The priorities were plain: get back to work on the Hera’s escape from the dark storm before it killed them all, and leave Daytona to deal with Akira alone. The survival of the entire ship clearly outweighed the survival of one hologram. Indeed, Vaemyn felt that niggling little biological subroutine in his brain, designed by his creator, reminding him to stop dallying, abandon Daytona and get to work.

But Vaemyn could see Daytona’s eyes.

“Essentially, Chief Ral,” Vaemyn continued with a sad smile, “we will need to convince Akira to submit voluntarily.”

Daytona's face took on an expression of grim determination.

"That I think I can do as well as anyone we have on this ship," he said. "Probably better than anyone except maybe Maica III, and with the holoemitters on the fritz, I'm reluctant to enlist her aid. Alright, what do you want me to do. I can try to contact her by texting her directly. When she's in her right mind, she usually responds to my texts, even if it's just to tell me she's really busy and politely tell me to bugger off. Should I try that now?"

“Hang on!” the Doctor said energetically as he flipped his little high tech screwdriver into his hand, pointing it at Daytona’s wrist, and after a quick bit of humming, Daytona’s bracer beeped cheerfully. “There. The text message should be big and bold in her program now, understandable to both Akira and her Silurian other self. She can’t ignore it even if she wants to.”

"Excellent," Daytona said. "Now let's see if I can get her attention..."

Daytona took a breath and then started typing on his device.

Akira, my love, it's me, Daytona. I know something happened to you, something that you don't quite understand, and that it's changed you. I'm sorry I couldn't find you in time to help you, but I'm here now.

Akira stopped her race through the maze of tubes when these words filled her head. She hissed as she tried to ignore them, but they wouldn't go away until she fully took them in. Under the Silurian persona, the true Akira stirred, but the Silurian shook her head and continued moving, but not before Akira managed to get out a return message:

HELP!

Daytona's finger's flew over the little keyboard.

I'm here, Akira. I'm outside the main holodeck. We can help you, but not without your help. I know you're stronger than the Silurian. Can you get control of your body? Even if you can just slow her down and tell me where you are, I can try and catch up to you!

"She's in trouble," Daytona said. "How do we get her into this digital cage? Do I need to catch up to her or can I talk her into it somehow from here?"

“You’ll need physical contact with her holo-body,” the Doctor explained seriously as he rummaged around his jacket pockets. Soon enough he pulled out a white ornate cube out of a pocket, despite the box clearly being too large and bulky to fit inside his brown jacket, and after more bizarre fiddling with the cube using his screwdriver, the Doctor handed it to Daytona. “It is essential, essential, that Akira chooses to enter the cube of her own volition. I’ve twiddled with the code of the cage so that it’ll accept her holomatrix, but she has to choose to go in there.”

With that, the Doctor winked. “I have every confidence in you. Now go get her.”

"Thank you, Doctor," Daytona said. He quickly adjusted his wrist device for voice to text. "Akira, I need you to tell me where you are. Can you do that for me? I'm going to find you and help you but I need to know where you are."

Trying...

As Daytona turned and rushed down the corridor, Vaemyn sighed as he watched the El-Aurian go, Vaemyn feeling horribly concerned for Akira and Daytona. “How did you even fit that cube in your jacket pocket, anyway?” the Vorta asked distractedly, but then as he glanced at the Doctor again, Vaemyn’s eyes widened in shock at the holo Time Lord’s new headwear. “And where in the Founder’s name did you get a fez!?”

“Elementary computer trick for a self-aware hologram,” the Doctor replied, grinning smugly. “Besides, fezes are cool.”

---

It took a while for Daytona to get another response for Akira, but it was not for a lack of trying! Even getting that one small message out had been taxing, and not only was she trying to get out another message, but also stop the Silurian in the process. When the Silurian paused in a junction to consider her options and what she should do, Akira seized this moment to get her message out.

Deck 10, Junction J22-Alpha, now moving aft

Daytona almost shouted in joy when he received Akira's message. He had almost lost hope.

"I'm on my way," he said into the wrist device as he came to a short stop. He went over to a wall panel and called up the ships schematics for this deck, reducing the display to the Jefferies tubes. Akira was below him, headed aft. There was an access at Junction J30-Alpha and he could get there faster through the corridors than the Jefferies tubs, enter the tubes there, hopefully before Akira passed it by. Daytona took off at a sprint. When he arrived at the tube access he was looking for, he quickly opening the hatch and climbed down. He landed in a crouch and saw, coming at him, a very determined dinosaur woman.

Actually, she looks kind of hot like that...eyes on the prize, Daytona, eyes on the prize.

He waited for her to acknowledge his presence, though he didn't know if it would be his lover looking at him or the dinosaur woman controlling her matrix at the moment.

'Akira' hissed at Daytona and the way he blocked her path. "Out of my way, monkey," she declared simply. "A monkey with pointed ears, what are you?"

"Actually, I'm Akira's pet monkey," Daytona said. "And only she gets to spank me, so don't get any ideas. Now, just sit there like a nice dino-woman who has the audacity to possess my lover and do nothing."

He continued to look the Silurian in the eyes as he raised his wrist so his device would pick up his voice and put it in text form to send directly to Akira and bypass the Silurian.

"Akira," he said. "I'm here. I caught up to you. I have a device here. I need you to put your program into it so we can help you. Can you hear me, love?"

"She can hear you, but she can't do anything about it," the Silurian hissed in response. "Do not make me go through you, ape." Somehow the idea of going through this man, of causing him harm, made her feel sick, and her hand clenched against the deck plating; why did she feel this way when he was not her love! But the line between Akira and the Silurian were blurred, it was impossible for either of them to separate those feelings from the other.

The look of grim determination returned to Daytona's face.

"Akira," he said. "I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere...well...if dino-woman makes a run for it, then I'm going to chase her, but you get my point. Look, Silurian, this isn't your body. It isn't your matrix. You have to know that. You have to feel Akira fighting you for control. Otherwise, you would have attacked me by now. But Akira doesn't want you to attack me. She's not letting you. I can see the conflict in your face. She's fighting you and she's going to win. She's stronger than you and she has more to fight for. She has a life here on this ship, family and friends who love her. She has me, and no matter what I won't give up on her."

"You don't know what you're talking about, you filth!" the Silurian retorted. Suddenly, she was feeling quite boxed in and vulnerable here, yet Akira herself felt oddly at home. Akira wanted to get another message to Daytona to tell him his efforts were working, but the Silurian's panic was making things difficult.

"But I do," Daytona said. "You see, I'd know Akira anywhere, no matter what form she takes. I can sense her in you, fighting. And...I know you don't want to be here, either. This...malfunction we're experiencing, it took you from somewhere you belong, ripped you away from a place where your mind was at peace and put you here, in Akira's matrix. Your presence is causing conflict in Akira's matrix. There's more of her here than you. You can't maintain control. Control is slipping from your grasp bit by painful bit. Surrender to Akira. Give her back control of her own matrix and I promise we'll do everything we can to separate you and return to you your peace of mind. Akira, if you can here me, I'm still here, right in front of you. Actually, I'm still here in front of you even if you can't hear me, but that would mean I'm talking to myself and that would be silly. Anyway, I'm still here. Fight, my love...I'm here. Reach out to me."

I'm trying, my love!

The Silurian was having a hard time maintaining control over her host matrix; Akira was a clever one and she was giving this fight her all! The Silurian's posture grew rigid as she felt torn between running and.. something else, but neither of those options seemed possible with Akira fighting her, and suddenly her expression softened, and she looked at Daytona like she was finally seeing him, really seeing him for the first time.

"Daytona?" The strange accent was gone, this was Akira speaking, but it did not last long as the Silurian hissed, taking a swipe at Daytona before darting down the tube she had come from.

Daytona pulled back, but not quite fast enough. The Silurian managed to scratch his face. He gave his own hiss, this one of pain, before taking off after the Silurian wearing Akira's matrix.

Damn she's fast! And she doesn't have to worry about cutting up her knees in here, or bumping her head and knocking herself out. Enough of this crap.

"Computer!" Daytona said. What he was about to try would be pointless if dino-Akira figured out how to blink from one set of holoemitters to another, but really didn't see another way. "Raise containment field at Junction J23 and J24! Trap Akira Zhuri's current form between them!"

The Silurian slammed into the containment field that suddenly went up in front of her, then when she turned around she saw the one behind her go up she knew she was trapped. She hissed at Daytona, then turned her attention to the field in front of her, tapping it here and there to test its weaknesses. She searched Akira's memories for a way to bring these fields down, but Akira was blocking that information; there was another way around these fields, but whatever it was, Akira was doing a good job of blocking that too.

"What do you want from me?" the Silurian finally said to Daytona in a defeated tone, not bothering to turn back around to face him.

"I want Akira back," Daytona said. "She's...she means everything to me, Silurian...do you have a name? We've been arguing with each other for a while now, and I don't even know your name. In case Akira hasn't told you, my name is Daytona. I'm Akira's...well, I guess the best way to say this is that I'm Akira's. And, if I may be so bold, she's mine."

"'Random Silurian #4'" the Silurian replied after a long silence. "I wasn't aware of what I was before, but now I am, and if you return me to that program in that room, I'll go back to being a nobody, a nameless extra with no purpose."

"But that's exactly what you're doing to Akira," he said. "You're taking over her matrix, taking her life and turning her into a nobody. And you still won't be your own person! You'll be what little there is of you plus whatever you can steal from Akira. I can't let you do this..."

Daytona stopped for a moment, then spoke.

"What if I could help you be more than Random Silurian #4 without you having to take over Akira's matrix?" he said. "You'd have to trust me. You'd have to wait until we successfully separate your matrix from Akira's and we may need help to do that, help we don't have on this ship. But...what if I could make you into someone, expand your program and the program you were in? What if I could have someone create as open ended a program as possible for you, one that grows and evolves, where you could be more than just Random Silurian #4? Would you trust me to do that for you? It's been done before. It's going to take some very clever and creative people doing very clever and creative work, but it could be done. But you're going to have to trust me. Will you? I know that you don't know me, but Akira does. She'll tell you that I wouldn't go back on my word for something this important. Ask her!"

Daytona wished he could quickly type a message to Akira telling her to convince Random Silurian #4 that he was telling the truth, but Random Silurian #4 would see the message and that would erode Akira's, and Daytona's, credibility.

"This you can do?" the Silurian said, finally turning to look at Daytona. The she scowled. "No, you wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice me to get your woman back, you barbarian! I won't-"

The Silurian suddenly stopped, and she seemed to be straining.

"The Doctor!" Akira finally spoke out. "The Doctor knows what he is and he is happy, and you can play with him and the people who run that program over and over and over, you could be adored, you can have your name! But we'll both perish if we're not separated, my mother can he-"

Akira's words were cut off as her matrix flickered; her eyes were wide as the Silurian realized this truth.

"That was most unpleasant," the nameless Silurian remarked once she stopped flickering. She looked back at Daytona; did she really want to risk dying as a nameless nobody, or was she willing to take a leap of faith that Akira and Daytona's words were true and without deceit. "What would you have me do, monkey? How do we stop this?" she asked Daytona.

Daytona relaxed, but only a little. He didn't want to jinx anything. He pulled out the box the Doctor had given him.

"I need to get Akira's matrix into here," he said. "It was only designed to prepare you for separation, so you should both be able to exist in there, only you'll have to let Akira have control. Once we're out of this dark matter storm, we'll rendezvous somewhere with a ship called the USS Merlin. One of Akira's mothers, Andrea Carter will be there and she can separate you two without deleting either one of you. In the meantime, I have family that own a small holoprogramming company. They create interactive holonovels, including open ended ones. I'll contact them and I'll send them the Doctor's program. Using that, they can start creating a new, ever expanding world for you. Once you've been separated from Akira, I'll send your matrix to them as well. They'll work you into what they've got and expand it from there. They can maintain it there, they have a massive data farm, and they can keep the program running indefinitely. But I need you and Akira to place your matrices in this device...please...I thought I had a life before I met her, but I didn't. I only really came alive for first time in centuries when she smiled at me. I can't lose her."

"You will have to lower this field, she is preventing me from doing it," the Silurian replied.

Daytona hesitated, but only for a second.

"Computer," he said. "Lower the containment field on this side of Silurian #4. Leave the other one in place. No offense intended Number 4."

Daytona held the box out towards Silurian #4.

The Silurian crawled forward and reached out to touch the box, then hesitated.

"Daytona," Akira said as she looked at him. "When you get the ship back under control, make sure you check the holodecks for a body; without the safeties, one of the creatures killed the room's occupant. I couldn't recognize who it was, but regardless that person deserves better than to be left in there."

"Of course, my love," Daytona said, taking a moment to touch her face and then give her quick, gentle kiss. "You won't be in there one second longer than you have to be. I swear it."

"I know," Akira said softly, offering a warm smile to affirm her trust in him. With that out the way, Akira touched the box and promptly vanished. The box cycled through a few colors as it processed the intertwined matrices, then finally settled on a green color to indicate that the transfer was complete.

Daytona sighed.

"Ral to Vaemyn," he said. "I've got her. And we're going to have to make some special arrangements...."

Her first day aboard the USS Hera had been an eventful one, with Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris having taken crash courses in aerospace aeronautics, 24th century engineering, a few history lessons and quite a few miles logged about the ship. Still wearing her gold minidress uniform, no one had asked her to change, and she didn't plan to unless ordered to do so. She might be adapting to the future in which she was now marooned, but that didn't mean she had to subsume her identity just yet. The black and charcoal and 'spot of color' uniforms of the day were hideous to her eye, sinister and dark, and frankly she was proud of her uniform. She had fought to earn it, fought to honor it and fought to advance. Trading all of that in for a jumpsuit with a few little collar buttons seemed to be a sacrifice she was at least as yet unwilling to make.

But her current course brought her back to the center of the saucer section of the Hera. At least that hasn't changed in a hundred odd years or so, she mused. The center of the saucer section was still the toughest part of the starship, and Sickbays had been located there since the days of Archer and the Warp 5 engine. Which she hadn't checked on but was reasonably certain that was the same here, too. It radically increased the survivability of the injured, and in some cases could even eject from the saucer section in times of crisis as a lifeboat.

More homework to catch up on, she mused as she made her way down the corridor, smiling at passing shipmates. For now, she was a woman on a mission. A few hits off a hypo and whatever the biobed might have to say was fine, but she'd been rent through time, space and dimension as beamed energy, captured by a passing warp field then reconstituted by an experimental transporter. While some might call her a hypochondriac, Rita Paris felt it was a very good idea to be thoroughly examined by an actual doctor.

"Clearly you're getting paranoid in your old age," she muttered to herself as the frosted glass doors of sickbay bearing the Starfleet medical caduceus opened at her approach, and she mused that she was very old now... what, a hundred and sixty one years old now, give or take? At least she didn't have crow's feet...

Hearing the doors open, Matthew dropped his eyes from review of the research he was doing on the black blood plague. "Just a minute" Pain made him grunt as he rose, and leaned heavily on his cane to come out to greet the newcomer. It was yet another surprise in a run of surprises when he came face to face with a young woman in an ancient uniform wearing the rank of Lieutenant Commander. "Good morning"

"Good morning," Paris replied with a dazzling smile, taking in the sight of the human leaning on a cane, seemingly older than his years. She wondered what condition he could possibly have that left him in such obvious pain and lack of mobility that modern medicine couldn't cure, but the face was a handsome one and the eyes seemed kind, so she thought she'd look past all of her questions for now and proceed. As he had the cane in his right hand, she extended her left to him.

"I'm Lieutenant Co- uh, I'm Rita Paris. They reconstituted me from a transporter accident yesterday, ending my one hundred and twenty-seven year trip through time and space. With that in mind, I was wondering if maybe someone could look me over and make sure nothing's wrong, that I'm not missing major portions of my mass or that my quantum field is unstable or something." Her demeanor was friendly and somewhat matter-of-fact as she casually discussed the upheaval that her life had engendered in the past 24 hours.

His face changed from expressionless calm after shaking her hand, to curiosity in a heartbeat. He'd never heard of time travel in that form before. "I am certain we would have already noticed if you were missing major portions of your mass. Were you not given an exam when you reappeared?"

"Well, I was parked on a biobed and given a hypo of something, so if that counts, yes? I'd just be a bit more secure if I was actually looked over by a doctor who was specifically looking for problems, Call me paranoid if you like, plenty have over the years, but clearly transporters and I have had a very long and troubled relationship. They've never done anything like this to me before, and I just want to be sure I'm okay is all." The calm exterior the young woman was projecting had a few too many tells- a bead of sweat forming on her forehead, a slight tremor in her voice when she said the word 'transporter', the way her hand trembled slightly when she combed her bangs away from her face. It looked an awful lot like PTSD to the experienced physician, but who was that afraid of transporters?

Apparently time travelers. Or at least the one in his office. While she might or might not be delusional, she did have a point- Rita Paris had traveled in a manner no human had successfully experienced before, and while she might be a little twitchy about it, that didn't mean she might not have a point.

"I am sure that transporters have made an enormous leap forward in a hundred and twenty seven years was it you said?" shaking his head wryly he patted the biobed. Making a mental note that she should speak to the counselor pretty quickly to address the issues that weren't yet visible in this woman. Not to mention the ones that were- she was clearly afraid of the transporter. Losing everything in a traumatic accident like that, and then ending up 127 years in the future had to be the kind of paradigm shift no-one was prepared for. "Up you get."

Backing up against the biobed, the minidress-clad officer slid up onto it gracefully like a woman accustomed to living in a short skirt while maintaining her dignity. “I’m sure they are oh so much safer and more advanced now, but that’s what they said back in my day, too. And given that I’ve had this happen to me in one form or another three times now, I’d just like a professional’s opinion. Hopefully one who takes me seriously,” she added, fixing the physician with her bright blue eyes.

"I take everything I'm told seriously, unless I have a reason not to do so" A brief smile accompanied him holding her eyes with his, before he opened the hatch in the biobed that held the hand scanner. It hummed over her, top to bottom, and he limped to the display and set it alight with a touch of his finger.

There was internal debate, but curiosity won out. "No offense intended Doc, but in the far-flung future with all the medical wonders that must be available to you, I have to ask- why do you limp?"

He chuckled at the question "All the medical wonders in the universe and I can't even fix myself..." a deep breath escaped his lips and he looked at her with piercing amethyst eyes and spoke again "I am still healing from my accident, and all of the medical science available to us isn't yet able to fix a broken spine and damaged spinal cord. "

That hung in the air for a moment, making an uncomfortable atmosphere. "I apologize, Doctor. I'm a hundred and twenty-seven years out of date, and the only way I learn anything in a world that has so very much passed me by is by asking questions. I meant no offense by it."

With that, Paris slid off the biobed. "I should go... I've made this awkward." With those words, the gold-clad chrononaut moved to depart sickbay, leaving whatever answers a full examination may have revealed behind her.

"Computer, secure sickbay door." he instructed and watched as the woman strode towards a door that wasn't going to open for her without his authorization.

"Orrrr not," Paris turned,then casually strode back to face the doctor. "Not that awkward, eh?"

"So much so that I'm going to let you leave before my exam is complete?" He shook his head. "Definitely not. You don't think youre the first person to comment on it?"

“I have no idea, Doctor. As I said, I only learn by asking questions and mean no offense.” That said, the gold minidress-clad cosmonaut turned then sat back down on the biobed. “Examine away, Doctor. My saving grace in my first transporter accident was that the ship’s surgeon refused to believe that I had been discorporated, and for the first two years after the accident he kept trying to work out what had happened. That laid the groundwork for the engineer who would work it out a few years later and reintegrate me into matter again.”

He flapped a hand at her insistance of no offense meant. He hadn't taken any, honestly he was happy to be able to walk. "At first glance they seem to have done a good job, but we're going to get more detailed scans. Its a shame they weren't doing biometric scans of this fashion in your era. Then i could compare your readouts to a known quantity."

There was a moment of hesitation that followed, then an admission. "They wouldn't do you any good, Doctor. It seems I'm from a few dimensions over as well, so even if they'd done biometric scans, you wouldn't have access to them now. The Lieutenant Rita Paris of this universe..." Paris paused, brows furrowing as she fought for composure. "She was never reintegrated. My counterpart in this universe was lost for good in her transporter accident. At least, that's my hope, because imagining her still out there all alone like that is something that would give me nightmares. On top of the ones I already have..."

As she spoke, revisiting those events, Paris' pulse rate increased by 21%, her skin temperature rose by .6 degrees and she began to perspire slightly.

His hand gently rested upon hers and he squeezed gently. There was a faint tremor under his fingers. "Would you like to share some more on that?"

Placing her hand atop his, she smiled, a wan, small smile. "Not much to tell, Doctor. A transporter accident that was the result of sabotage discorporated me into a sentient energy field that was trapped and sustained by the warp field of the starship's engines of the USS Constitution. I lived that way for almost the entire five-year mission, a ghost among the crew. They couldn't perceive me and I couldn't interact with them, but I could see them. I was always there- couldn't sleep, couldn't eat, couldn't find a way back and couldn't die. Eventually an engineering ensign worked out that I was still alive and reintegrated me back into matter."

"The Rita Paris of this reality was just... lost. Ensign Wells was never assigned to the Constitution, he never worked it out, and she lived out her days that way until they pulled the dilithium chamber from the Constitution during decommissioning, and hopefully she had some peace after that."

While her tone was resigned, her own hands trembled a bit during her recollection. They were also a bit damp from perspiration. When she spoke, it was clear to him that she was trying to sound casual and failing.

"So here I am on transporter accident #3, which ended up dumping me in another dimension even different than the last one I ended up in. Plus it's a hundred and twenty seven years later. So, um, I'm a little nervous around transporters," she explained, trying to downplay the absolute terror that she felt even considering stepping onto a transporter pad. "And they tell me it's all in my head, but I can feel it, every time. It isn't instantaneous, it isn't painless and nobody believes me but I swear I leave a little bit of myself behind every time."

"I don't know if you do or not. I can understand your fear however. Trauma will sensitize you to things a person without that trauma might not notice. May I ask how it felt this time being rematerialized? Was it painful?" His eyes flickered from her readouts to her face.

There was a moment where the extradimensional explorer obviously debated with herself internally, then she nodded quickly. "It was the worst I had ever experienced. After my first reintegration, transporting hurt every time, but I learned to cope with it. Transferring dimensions, in my experience, gives you a migraine for about a month. This time was worse than either, but likely because I was moving in time, space and dimension all at once, without a vessel. I've gotten used to the permanent headache, but I am worried about how much of me didn't make it through this time. I can't tell if I lost weight in the accident or because I haven't been eating much since I got here. Food tastes... off. You know?"

It was a ridiculolus to add that question on the end of her statement, but Rita Paris was getting used to her questions being moronic to the locals, and was evolving past the point of caring.

Matthew looked thoughtful for a long moment. Briefly he chewed on his lower lip as he pondered the answer she'd given. A constant migraine was a puzzling side effect of transporter rematerializaion, and dimentional shifts that had never been expressed before to his knowledge "That answer only brings more questions. Any auras, visual disturbances or blurred vision?"

"Nope, no concussion. Very familiar with all of those symptoms," Paris countered, clearly no stranger to Sickbay. Eyeing the doctor, she considered her position. "You did get the briefing on me, right? I come from an alternate reality, and a hundred and twenty-seven years in the past? Transporter accident in an ion storm with strong solar flare activity, arrived here as a warp ghost and just happened to be run into by the Hera moving at high warp? Reconstituted by the captain using that experimental Section 13 transporter? Stuck here because we lack the power to return me where I belong, but Starfleet decided I could just fill the shoes of the lost Lieutenant from this reality from all those years ago?"

The woman relayed the events casually, as if she were discussing crossing the street, but he could see her white knuckles as she gripped the side of the biobed and the perspiration that was now running down her face, and the biobed registered a 47% increase in heartbeat and a full degree of increased skin temperature. While she could discuss the details casually, internally they were anything but.

Again she’d assumed incorrectly what he was testing for was concussion, as opposed to psychic shock. Hoping that she'd get over that as she healed he simply ignored it, and the implied insult that he hadn’t read her file. It could very well be the broken bond with her Vulcan that was causing her such turmoil. Not to mention the trauma of the travel itself. "Stop and breathe. Just breathe."

Instead of a wisecrack or a dismissal or evasion, instead the gold-clad commander focused on calming herself a bit. In truth, she hadn’t even realized that her physicality was reflecting her internal anxiety. Thus she let out a long sigh, using a bit of her breath to blow her errant blonde bangs out of her eyes, and tried to relax as she fidgeted absently on the biobed.

"You are not a replacement for this dimension’s Rita. This is just a new chapter in your life, and is what you make of it. "

His answer was a close-lipped smile that did not reach her eyes, which instead looked sad, almost heartbroken. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and low, and not terribly convincing. “I’ll make the most of it, Doctor. My life always seems to be starting new chapters, and I keep dusting myself off and soldiering on."

That clinched it for him and he patted her shoulder gently. "We're going to figure this out. One way or another so you have answers." Matthew started a neurotransmitter level scan and waited for the result.

"Can I get a doctor's note to not have to take the transporter?" the antique Starfleet officer in near mint condition asked half-jokingly.

"Sure if you want one. There are many an officer that haven't used the transporter for one reason or another. The great Dr Leonard McCoy hated the contraption, even when it was working properly." Matthew agreed easily, smiling a bit at her.

"I'd like that, if it's okay," the buxom blonde offered him a hesitant smile. "I just... I know it's going to come up and someone is going to get very testy about it, and they just don't understand. I'm not imagining things... it hurts and I really don't like it and I just, I just want to take a shuttle unless there's no other choice. If I'd taken a shuttle I'd still be... I'd still be home."

At that, tears started rolling down her cheeks, and shoulders hunched, Paris did her best to grip the edge of the biobed and cry quietly.

"Its perfectly okay" he said softly as he limped over to the base station so he could fill a hypospray. "Between 0 and 10, how bad is the headache right now?" Turning back to her, he saw the tears shining on her cheeks and sighed gently before moving slowly back to her side and resting a hand on her shoulder.

Placing her hand on his, Paris was silent for a moment as she composed herself, then with a rather healthy sniffle she cleared her throat. "Ah, maybe around a 3.5 to 4, give or take, depending on the lighting and what I'm doing. When I'm in the simulator I just focus past it, but doing paperwork cranks it up, and studying it's always a distraction. I haven't tried running yet, but that'll probably crank it up to a six or seven. It's like the last time, just... different."

"If you were a Vulcan, I would prescribe some one on one time with a proper mindhealer, and medications to help rebalance your neurotransmitter levels. 1 out of 2 isn't bad for this far out in space. Fair warning, these drugs can make you feel lightheaded. " Pressing a hypo to her throat, he listened to the familiar hissing sound for the space of a second.

Lightheaded was a bit of an understatement as Paris gripped the edge of the bed while the room spun a little, and she closed her eyes to reorient herself. As the drugs circulated through her system she swayed a bit, then when she opened her eyes once more, she blinked a few times. The headache was already diminishing, and she did feel more focused even as the lightheadedness slowly passed.

"Well, here's to neurotransmitters," she quipped, angling her neck to crack it and relieve tension. Then she opted for a full upper body stretch to realign her spine and give her relaxing muscles a chance to get into it. "So between the scans and the meds, are we done for now? I assume if I have some odd quantum signature or something like that you'll let me know, and I'll need to do follow-up check-in visits?"

"I want you to have follow up visits anyway. Neural shock is nothing to mess around with."

"Will do, doctor." Paris slid off the biobed, then twisted at the waist a few times to get the kinks out. "Thanks for checking under the hood and making sure I didn't blow a gasket or something," she offered. "Anything I can do for you, Doctor?"

"At a later date, you can tell me what a gasket is," he murmured with a puzzled expression on his expressive face. Having never heard the term before, he was utterly befuddled by what she was saying.

At least everyone else gets a taste of how I feel in conversation, Paris silently mused to herself as she slid off the biobed. “A gasket is a shaped piece or ring of rubber or other material sealing the junction between two surfaces in an engine or other device. A function of old engines is that they would 'blow a gasket' and that would create a lubricant leak, which was usually catastrophic. Thus it became a turn of phrase for something going wrong." As the literal retro throwback officer started toward the door, she asked, "Well, thanks for the tune-up, Doc. I guess I can expect those test results in a few days?"

He thought the word play was clever there and nodded as she explained the ancient term to him."no, I have the results already. I just need to know how you react to the medicines I gave you and that will take a couple of days. As good as we are, it's still not a light switch fix."

"So, does that mean you have answers now, or we find out in a few days?" Paris asked good-naturedly. "I'm confused..."

"I have a partial answer. The rest is up to you and seeing how your body reacts. " he smiled at her and closed out his log. "See you in 2 days."

Thex was feeling happy with herself. With the last of the tasks, she needed to do finished as was her shift she could afford to relax. No more tasks until the ship docked with the drydock and that was a day away. Now she could head back to her quarters and collapse onto her bed.

As she reached the staff quarters a thought shot through her head. Knowing her team they may have forgotten to deliver the furniture to the captains quarters. Walking briskly to the captains quarters the sapphire engineer pressed the door alarm.

" Hey, captain it's Thex. I was just stopping by to make sure my boys have delivered the temporary furniture." She said politely before waiting for a reply.

"Come in," called Enalia. As the door opened, it revealed the disaster that was the captain's quarters and Enalia and Maica snuggling in the remains of the couch. There was some basic furniture at least, but little to no attempt made to clean up the remains of what had been destroyed. "Yeah we only accepted the chairs and bed though. When we get to the fortress we'll be redecorating."

Maica chimed in with a bit of interior decorator input "I was thinking of going with a mid-Lanterian theme this time. I really think the semi-floral woodwork would go well in here."

Thex paused for a second as she had no idea what a mid-Lanterian theme was. Interior decorating was not one of her strong points. " I'm sure it will look lovely when it's finished. I'm not the best when it comes to internal decorating. I have the list of repairs needed for when we get the girl into the drydock by the way." She replied fishing around in her uniforms pockets. " It's rather frightening what some tribbles can accomplish." She said looking around at the damage.

Getting up, Enalia walked over to meet Thex and get the PaDD from her when she got it out of her pocket. "Yeah, I think the computer might have spawned some form of ravenous cannibal tribble or something. They even ate my weapons belt. They didn't eat anything inorganic though, and thankfully nothing living since I was in them and Rita came in to save me."

" It was odd they didn't go for anything living, but the t-rex did go after me. Same with the Orions I had to beat in a dance-off. I'll have to take a look at the data when I get some free time. " The engineer responded as she finally found the padd which she handed to the captain.

Taking the PaDD, Enalia started looking it over. "We were moving around a lot and by the time they got through our clothes we had made it to the restroom so that might have had something to do with it. It does seem a bit odd though." Tapping at the PaDD a bit more, she hummed a bit. "Most of this doesn't seem too bad at least. Starfleet is sending us a replacement warp coil for the one we fused as well as personnel. They should be there waiting for us when we get to the fortress. Everything else you need, the industrial plant in the fortress will be at your disposal." With that, she handed the PaDD back to Thex.

" It does sound odd. I wonder..." the andorian paused for a second before she took her padd back. " the program with the orions isn't listed in the ships holo database. I wonder if the tribbles program is unlisted as well." She wondered.

Enalia nodded as she put one hand on her hip. "Many of the programs reported aren't listed and even the ones that are, had strange options that weren't included. It's almost like the storm was feeding the system new data to try and test us or something. I think Rita had that idea and reviewing the reports, I'm starting to think she might be right. Once we compile all the reports and data I'll be sending it all to Jupiter Station and letting the specialists sort it out and figure out if it was some sort of macro-intelligence or random data."

" I'm sure the egg heads will find out what happened. Glad I'm not the only one who noticed I though I might have been going crazy. " The andorian replied feeling the tiredness in her body for the first time. " I don't suppose I could book a few massage sessions for my shore leave. I sure could use them." She asked the orion.

"Of course," Maica replied. "We'll have the full hot springs as well so the maids and I will be able to offer those services too. And thank you for feeding my squids while I was offline."

" That sounds wonderful Maica and there no need to thank me. I thought I'd check on your room in case anything had materialised. The only thing that had was a very confused echidna. " Thex replied kindly.

Maica smiled extra brightly. "Thank goodness. Just stop by any of the hot springs baths whenever you're ready then and I or one of the maids will take extra good care of you."

" Sounds great. Well if there's nothing you need me to look at i'll get out of your hair. My beds calling me. " the sapphire engineer responded.

Enalia smiled and nodded. "That sounds like a good plan, actually. Rest well."

Thex smiled as she turned and headed for the door. It was only a short journey to her own quarters and her welcoming bed into which the engineer collapsed onto.

Thex was still grinning as she and Rita made their way down the turbolift of the ship. At least there were no more malfunctioning orion holograms, only a few floors made of acid and another holo dinosaur which had been chewing on one of it's former companions.

Now they'd made it to the section of the ship where the part they had gone through so much trouble to retrieve needed to go be installed. The few security personnel and the small group of engineers seemed relieved to see them and slightly confused at Thex's change in attire.

" Right, everyone. I need to get this installed, with a direct link to main engineering. If we can do this plan, we might just be the only people in Federation history to get out of this mess. " Thex ordered as she bent down to get started on her work.

"You heard the commander, people," the chief flight control officer posed heroically like a 2257 recruitment poster model as she pointed to personnel and started barking orders. "You, get a toolkit over here. I'm gonna need someone managing power conduit flow so that we don't blow anything up. You there, break out the armory and arm people with phasers- if the ship's holographic system is going to keep trying to interfere with us I want a defensive perimeter established. Let's move with a purpose here, people!"

With the engineering crew motivated, Paris bent over to mutter to the chief engineer. "Okay, I probably literally don't know half the tools you use and I have no idea how to do what you're doing, but how can I help?"

" Grab someone and a portable terminal. I'll need to be monitoring the internal dampeners and the power levels so we make sure we don't rip apart as we try this. " Thex said already doing about five things at once as she began yanking out the broken part.

The engineering crewmen in the immediate vicinity were still a bit confused- after all, while word had gotten around about Lieutenant Paris, none of them were accustomed to being ordered around by the obvious anachronism, and there was the matter why their bright blue chief was wearing a flight suit instead of her uniform or one of the engineering specialty uniforms. But the young woman spoke with authority, in a voice that was clearly accustomed to being obeyed. And when she pointed and barked an order, the engineers still jumped.

"You there... yes, you crewman. Grab a portable terminal and get it set up over here for the chief." With that said, the long-lost lieutenant leaned back over again to mutter in her friend's ear. "Keep in mind, I haven't cleared this with the captain yet, and I am pretty sure I'm going to be remote piloting us out of here from Stellar Cartography. So we're just getting prepared, right?"

" Yeah, we're getting prepared for this. I think you should head for the bridge and tell the captain our plan. I should have everything ready by the time you've reached the bridge. " Thex said glancing up at her friend, who dropped to one knee to clasp the Andorian's shoulder as she to addressed her in a conspiratorial tone.

"Keep the men busy. So long as they have something to be doing they are less likely to focus on 'we're doing WHAT?!?' and do a good job and pull through. Just some friendly advice."

Tapping the front of her uniform, Rita rolled her eyes then held out her right hand. "Say, can I have my comm badge back? I'm glad you didn't need it," Rita chuckled. "Lifting the other girl's hidden weapon was very slick. And you have some crazy moves, my friend. I'm totally taking you swing dancing when things calm down."

" I never knew I could dance like that. Guess I'm better at it than I thought," Thex replied before pulling up the sleeve of her flightsuit to produce her friend's combadge out from the jeweled armband she was still wearing. " Can't believe I could see the needle blade she had on her back, either. I just saw it as I twirled, and went for it."

"Well, it was awesome, and I'm glad I got to see it. Okay, you got this down here, right? We're gonna do what no one's ever done, because somebody has to be the first to figure it out, right?" The comely companion of heroes offered a smirking grin that embodied the devil-may-care attitude Paris was trying to instill in her heroic Andorian companion.

" Yeah, I got this. Head up to the bridge, and by the time you get there we should be ready to go and get us out of this hell." Thex replied as she returned the grin to her friend.

"Maybe post some men on it- I still have to run all this past the Captain, remember?" Paris offered as she finished securing her comm badge then stood, tugging down the hem of her gold minidress in a practiced maneuver. "So get ready, but we don't get to just do it without orders. Hold your antenna, Miz Dance Champion Engineer." With that, Paris spun on her heel in an about-face, then marched away, PaDD in hand as she searched for the nearest Jeffries tube that could get her back up to wherever she needed to go to outline this plan in person to the captain.

Experience had taught Rita Paris that crazy plans were much better received in person.

Thex called out after her with a simple " Will do," before returning to work. If they were going to pull this off, she needed to work her heart out to get this done.



Apparently, according to both the CSO and the CO, physically spinning the ship produced no actual effect, and would in fact be pointlessly dangerous. Which was only of mild disappointment to Lieutenant Rita Paris, because as it turned out her graviton idea would work. According to all involved, spinning gravimetrically, using the warp coils as mass drivers in the engines and the graviton generators in the pod while reflecting all that energy off the main dish but leaving the ship itself stationary to simulate the mass and distortion of a planetary body... should create a pseudo-singularity barrier around the ship that could clear out dark matter from the local area, sufficient for the Hera to achieve warp and maintain the graviton bubble.

The downside of this is that the engines would be under double stress keeping both the gravity well going as well as the warp bubble. But Thex had assured all involved that the engines were still quite new, so they could probably take it.

"Graviton generators at 40 percent and rising. Main dish appears stable. Do we have sensor readings on the mass distortion field? Is the bubble forming?" the old-school officer asked of the science officer on the bridge.

" It's building, but very slowly. Engineering, can you give us more power to the graviton generators?" The bridge science officer called into the communications.

Down in engineering, Thex was concerned every reading she was getting. In normal circumstances, she'd be ending this, but now they had no choice. Her hands were flying as they worked to get every bit of power out of the engines.

" I'm giving her all she's..." the acrobatic Andorian began, as with a few switches and the opening of the isolinear variance node a thud echoed around the ship for a brief second. The Andorian engineer's blue eyes light up as another reading began to rise. A warp field was forming.


" Thex to the bridge, we have a go to form a warp field. It's going to be very weak, so you likely won't be able to get top speed. "


The voice of the Captain filtered through engineering from the bridge. "Bridge here. Engage and go to warp one at your discretion."


Gripping the solid and holographic controls of the Hera's main piloting station, Paris reviewed her options she was prepared to engage, and her eyes flickered to her colorfully plumed assistant chief, Ensign Mona Gonadie who sat perched casually on the console. A nod of 'yeah, you got this, boss' and Rita Paris smiled. Twisting her wrist slightly, she punched in the simple destination for the Hera's shortest trip out of the storm with her right hand as the Hera rotated to align herself on the former tactical officer's vector heading.

"Ahead warp factor one," the career fleeter gal proclaimed as the engines took hold, and the warp nacelles of the USS Hera lit up, and she began to exceed the speed of light once more. "Warp field holding, speed warp one. Let's get some readings and determine her stability, folks."

Thex was rather shocked that this mad idea had worked. Maybe they just might get out of this nightmare after all.

On the bridge, Rita Paris was feeling out the actual non-simulated controls of the Hera for the first time, urging her on through a dark matter ion storm. The throttle was intuitive, as were most of Gonadie's controls. It was the Miradonian's strategies that were amazing, as she had demonstrated a number stunts with the custom manual piloting interface. But for now, Rita had the reports and was experimenting with increasing the power, throttling her up slow but steady. Taking pauses in the acceleration to take readings and confirm that everything was still working according to plan, the constitution-class expert insured that they weren't exceeding the graviton field they were using to generate this area of clear space.

If nothing else, years of working with a scientist had taught her to be careful when possible, and to document the readings. After all, if this worked, it would go into the report, which would then be disseminated throughout Starfleet. So accurate readings and experimentation was of vital importance to science.

Just as Thex had finally felt a sense of relief flowing over her, thinking they had rounded the bend on this crisis, a loud banging echoed through engineering. Wheeling around, the Andorian engineer could immediately tell one of the coils had failed, judging by the smoke coming from it's casing and the horrible rattling sound it was making. The computer began to beep with emergency warnings, causing the andorian to panic. They had passed up to warp 5.4, but the field was becoming destabilized. " Thex to the bridge, slow us down or the engines are going to fail." The andorian yelled.

At warp 5.2 there had been a bit of a vibration. At 5.3 Paris had realized that the Hera might be exceeding the graviton distortion field. By warp 5.4 she was positive of it, even as Thex yelled to shut it down. Dropping her into flat Warp 5, Rita ran the calculations for the Hera's escape at this rate.

The andorian let out a sigh of relief as everything began to stabilize, as the ship settled into a safe speed. It seemed they were stuck at warp 5, but at least they were moving. " We're stable now. Just keep us at warp five for now." She called into her combadge.

"Acknowledged, engineering. Lieutenant Paris to Captain Telvan. 5.2 days to the edge of the storm at current speed and heading, ma'am, and engineering advises against any faster. The gravitron field is holding stable and we are underway. I might be able to shave some time off that estimate with deeper scans and pauses for resetting the heading, at your pleasure, ma'am."

Enalia sighed and finally leaned back in her chair, looking over the readings on her own consoles. "That's a far cry from waiting the storm out. Plus we have the added benefit of hopefully fewer malfunctions with that graviton bubble. If we lose another coil though... Slow us to warp 4.8 for now. Yardboys said that that was one of the high efficiency spots for these engines so that should help with strain. Plus if we burn out another, we shouldn't have to drop speed."

“Aye captain. Warp 4.8 and holding stable, at current speed and course we should be clear in just under 5 days,” Paris reported from the helm.

After a little bit longer monitoring the Hera and keeping watch over power levels, Enalia's sly grin and curiosity was raised. "This is your first time piloting the Hera in person, isn't it? How is she?"

“Point and shoot, ma’am. We’re not making warp hops or inertial dampener skids or anything fancy since this is essentially a rescue mission, so not much to feel out I’m afraid. Not like maneuvering at impulse… just a straight line doesn’t really give me a lot to work with. The controls sure are spiffy though,” Paris opined, rising from the chair to let her assistant take the helm.

“Experiment successful, ship saved, course set, travel time calculated and crisis averted, ma’am. Dismissed?” Paris asked, standing beside the helm

Enalia shrugged. "Still... First time is always memorable, I think. They might want to celebrate it down in the pilot's lounge or something. Anyway, dismissed."

The Hera was now only a few days from the station something that made the chief engineer rather happy. She would be grateful to put the ship in the shipyard and get the girl fully worked over. Right now she was just making sure the main bridge's consols hadn't been damaged from the storm. The last thing she wanted was for the bridge crew to mess up and damaged the ship or the captain's shipyard.

Thinking of the captain she remembered her conversation with Rita and paused. Her friend had seemed rather shaken and uncomfortable. Handing her tools to her team she headed for the captain's ready room. " Be back in a few minutes need a word with the boss." she said to her team as she walked over to the ready room and pressed the door alarm.

"Come in," Enalia called out, looking up from the desk terminal to see Thex in her doorway. She was a bit dishevelled still from earlier and not having her wife around because of all the holographic issues they had been having. It seemed she either couldn't or was unwilling to do her hair right so it was down and cascaded around her shoulders like some madwoman fresh out of the sonic shower. "Is there something I can do for you?"

" Thank you ma'am." Tivri said trying not to smirk at the captain's hair as she sat down. " It's about Rita ma'am. We went dancing last night but before she had me over for drinks. She seemed rather confused and upset over an offer you made her." The Andorian said trying to be as polite as possible.

Enalia slowly leaned forward on her desk with her elbows, and buried her face in her hands, letting loose an old pirate curse before recomposing herself. "Yes. Sorry, please go on."

" I'm sorry for bringing this up Ma'am. She's my friend and I'm worried about her and i know you have far more important things to worry about than this. She seemed very confused about offending you if she said no. I know you'd never force someone into something they didn't want to do, but she doesn't. She did get here only a month ago. I don't suppose you could have a word with her and clear this all up." The sapphire engineer asked feeling rather embarrassed. This situation was clearly never in the academy's instruction guide.

"Yeah... I guess I get to use that cultural sensitivity training again..." Most people in the Federation didn't need it since it was part of their upbringing but since Enalia was raised by pirates, the Academy considered it a requirement for her. "Personally I worry about how well she's fitting in. She probably thinks we're some evil version of the Federation she knows and loves with all that she's seen."

Enalia nodded and sighed heavily. "Yeah, I'll speak with her about it. Make sure things are clear. Holographic tribbles had eaten our clothes, my spots itched like crazy, she's beautiful, my wife will be jealous..." She then pointed at Thex and looked at the lithe engineer meaningfully. "She's not getting out of that massage from my wife though. That was a promise and my wife will kill me if she breaks it."

" I've done my best to help her captain, but she has missed quite a lot of Federation history and I'm not one of the intel councillors who deals with time travel. I'm sure she'll appreciate a massage from Maica though. I should have the holomatrix fixed shortly. Could you tell her I fed the squid when she's back online? " The andorian replied.

Enalia smiled gratefully. "Thank you, I will. I know she'll appreciate it." Enalia then looked a bit more serious. "The Temporal Investigations counsellors are still having trouble figuring out how to handle Rita's case, to be honest. She's from another dimension as well so while much of our history is similar, there's some that isn't, like the destruction of Vulcan. If it were a simple matter of temporal displacement, this would be easier to handle... Right now I think she needs friends more than anything though. To not feel alone."

" Here's hoping she can make a few more whilst on shore leave. That will probably help her. " The andorian said calmly. She could do with a few weeks of shore leave herself. " Well captain if you don't have any problems i should look at I should get going. I have a list of problems across the ship that need to be looked and it isn't getting any smaller. "

"If you can spare someone, tribbles ate almost all my furniture. I could use a cot or something to sleep on until we get to my orbital fortress." Enalia didn't smile or blink as she made the request. She was dead serious. "Other than that, keep me up to date on your progress with repairs."

" Wait tribbles can eat inorganic material? " The andorian paused for a second before returning to her work tone. I'll have the team handling emergency furniture put you on the top of the list. I thought my encounter with the Orions in the shuttle bay was bad. Some of the crew quarters look like they've been in a battle."

"Which is why I never put in a request. As for my furniture... Most of it was handcrafted woods, cottons, and silks. Maica obtained most of it herself." Enalia nodded sheepishly, trying to wave it off. "She'll be pissed about that too, but it'll give her an excuse to redecorate."

" Ah, that makes sense. Don't worry I'll make sure you have a bed in your quarters by tonight Enalia. At least you will have time to decide on new furniture. " Thex replied jotting it down onto her padd before pocketing the device.

"Thank you," Enalia replied, looking a little relieved she might get a decent night's rest soon.

" No problem my friend." the andorian gave a polite smile as she nodded and turned to leave the room.

As she slept, the girl who'd come unstuck in time revisited the past the only way that she could- in her dreams.



Flashback to an old jingoistic newsreel. "The year is 2260. The five year missions are getting underway, although not all of Starfleet’s heavy cruisers will be dispatched at once. The Starfleet brass are staggering the missions, so that while some of our pivotal starships are exploring strange new worlds, others will still be ready on the home front to deliver supplies, patrol the borders and maintain the various Federation outposts scattered across a larger area of space than Admiral Archer ever dreamed. In this exciting pioneer period of the expanding Starfleet, excitement is in the air!"

Or in some cases, a distinct lack thereof.

“Dammit Rita, be reasonable for ONCE in your life!”

Commander Clifford Paris was growing more and more accustomed to arguments with his daughter. First she insisted on going to Starfleet Academy despite his best efforts to block her appointment. Then after graduation she wasn’t content to take a nice safe job on Mars directing traffic over the Planitia Utopia shipyards. Then the dead-end posting he had gotten her to teach her a lesson on the Antares had still not daunted her. Then she’d had the gall to apply to Tactical School, where her glowing reviews from the Antares captain Ford Prentiss had gotten her in the door. Two years on the Farragut had honed her skills, and now she was wanting to sign on to the Constitution for one of those stupid five-year missions.

Through all of this, not only had he maneuvered to try to stop her by calling in favors and friendships and working over the boy’s club of Starfleet, but he had found himself on more than one occasion in actual face-to-face arguments with his willful daughter. All he wanted was what was best for her, but she refused to see it. Instead she seemed determined to go gallivanting across the universe, as if that were a place for a girl like her. Now she stood in his study, arms crossed under that ridiculous figure of hers, wearing gold (which he told her wasn't her color), defying him once again.

“Reasonable. That’s funny coming from you, Daddy. Every single thing I’ve ever pursued in my career-“ Rita shot back before she was interrupted, as per usual.

“You career? Your CAREER? You are a woman in Starfleet! You have no business on a starship, absolutely no business on the bridge and you certainly don’t belong at the console that controls the weaponry of a starship!” the elder Paris hissed and spit.

“Really, Commander? Is that because I’m prone to ‘female hysteria’ once a month, or is it-“

“Partially, y’damn right!” Clifford Paris retorted. “It’s a proven fact that women base decisions on emotions rather than logic, and you’ve never been reasonable to start with. You have a bad day and suddenly we’re at war with the Klingons because you had cramps!”

The statement was, of course, radically unfair, as well as degrading to women, and downright offensive. But the logic (or lack thereof) was not uncommon in Starfleet in the 2260’s, and that was why there were still no lady starship captains. Hell, they’d rather promote an ensign to captain than let an actual qualified woman command. Just look at Jim Kirk and Nyota Uhura.

“Well, Captain Augenthaler doesn’t feel the same way. He’s seen my scores and he’s familiar with my accomplishments-“ Rita began, but of course did not finish.

“Jack Augenthaler is taking you on just to piss me off. He’s been waiting for a chance to get back at me since the Academy, and you just handed him a golden opportunity on a silver platter. And all of this is moot, because you should be listening to what I am telling you and considering Will Decker.” The elder Paris gestured expansively. “He’s smart, ambitious, good-looking, comes from a fine family…”

“He’s in his junior year as a cadet at the Academy, he’s seven years younger than me, and we’ve never even met! Why are you so determined to marry me off like some prize mare-“ Rita protested.

“Oh, THAT’S rich!” Commander Paris snorted. “A prize mare would imply worth. So far you’ve been nothing but one disappointment after the next, little girl. You have no idea just how hard it is to find someone who might not know about you who would be willing to consider even dating a girl like you.”

“Dad, I’m twenty-seven years old, I’m hardly a girl anymo-“

"Well you sure as hell aren’t a grown woman, not with the choices you make. Look, Rita,” The old man’s tone softened and he reached across the antique desk, palms up in a pleading gesture. “I’m trying to help you, even though you can’t see it. The universe is a big, dangerous place, and it’s nowhere for a young woman. Leave the galaxy exploring to the menfolk and just settle down with some nice young officer-“

“…from a good family who will help cement the Paris clan’s position and churn out some male babies so that we’ll have more allies, maybe amongst the Deckers or the Traceys or-“ Rita said as she rolled her eyes, and her father stood up excitedly.

“Yes! Yes, exactly! You’ll be happier staying close to home anyway, and you can still have a career! Hell, you might even make Lieutenant, maybe even Lieutenant Commander in a shore billet.” The smile on his face was one his daughter knew well- it was the one he wore when he knew she was going to bend to his will and do what he wanted done. But this time he was in for a disappointment.

“I see your sense of humor and irony still haven’t evolved much, Commander,” the tall blonde sneered. “No, I’m not going to be your close to home breeding mare, cheerfully spitting out grandchildren for you to dote on, as long as they’re boys. I’m going on a five year mission to explore strange new worlds, to seek out-“

“Oh, can the recruitment crap,” Clifford grunted, dropping back in his leather desk chair. “Just because they put you on a recruitment poster doesn’t mean you have to live up to it. Be reasonable and listen to common sense, for just once in your life, Rita! Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence. It’s no place for a girl like you.” The elder Paris paused, then gestured to the portrait on the wall. “I don’t want to lose you like I lost your mother.”

At that, Rita Paris’ eyes flickered to the portrait of her mother which hung on the wall of her father's study. Named for one of her distant ancestors who was the first human woman in space, Valentina Paris had died when Rita was young, and while it was seldom that the old man tugged on this particular thread, it still had its effect. Rita considered her father’s words, which stiffened her resolve once more.

“If I thought that was the real reason you didn’t want me to go, Daddy, I might consider it. But you aren’t concerned for my welfare, you’re just worried that I'll somehow tarnish the Paris family name and hurt your chances of advancement, or Albert’s. No, Daddy, I’m going. And you can stop trying to set me up with every Tom, Dick and Harry whose daddy’s got a nice rank like 'Commodore'. Because I’m not interested.”

“What, are you a lesbian now?” Clifford Paris snickered. That was the last straw for Rita, who turned on her heel and marched out of her father’s study.

“I didn’t dismiss you, young lady!” the Commander roared from behind his desk. As she strode away, wiping the bitter tears from her eyes, Rita Paris had disagreed.

“You dismissed me the moment the doctor said ‘it’s a girl’, Daddy.”



As she dreamed of bad days gone by, the slumbering Rita Paris reached out for comfort, from someone who wasn't there.

"So... so the captain... no. There were... we were..." Pacing back and forth trying to organize her thoughts was kinda taking a moment for Rita Paris. "It was... all right. Report."

At the command, apparently to herself, Rita dropped to sit on the edge of the couch, folded her hands and dropped them in her lap as she sat up straight, as if 'at attention' even when seated.

"I was pursuing the Captain to express a plan to save the ship. There was a tribble infestation concentrated in her quarters. I lured some of them out, then pursued the captain to assist her. While I body surfed the tribbles, they ate my uniform. By the time I found the captain, I was down to my skivvies. I didn't really notice losing them as we attempted to navigate to the exit." Rita sucked in a deep breath, which somehow made her look as though her chest were inflating.

"So we're there in her bathroom completely naked, so I try to play it all off as cool, right? Because the captain's cool with it, so I should have a sense of humor about it. And we figured- well, she figured out how to stop them, I just provided the bobby pins. But still, I helped." Paris paused, and her head began to tilt on a rather odd axis as her eyes took on a faraway look. "And then she said her wife would be jealous she got to see me naked first and made me promise to come get a naked massage from her wife because that's her thing, her position on the starship. And then she kind of invited me to have a threesome."

"That's... that's a new one on me." Turning to regard the Doctor, who still hadn't gotten a word in edgewise as his patient word vomited. "Admiral Nakamura hit on me when I was fourteen, and that was when Daddy changed his 'we don't talk about it' order. I got sex ed and I like to think that I have reasonably open mind. But this.... this is very, very worrisome."

Standing suddenly, Rita stepped into the aisle where her furniture was not placed, a space she had obviously cleared for pacing. As she stepped into stride, she ticked off the points as she paced back and forth. "This is a pirate princess who, the first night I met her practically offered me a captaincy in her pirate fleet. Did I mention that we are going to her pirate base after all of this for some R&R? Apparently where Grandmama holds court as the pirate queen? Privateers, really, as they hunt other pirates, although I'm uncertain from whom they would secure a letter of marque. Oh right, the pirate princess captain who can tell Starfleet off if she likes, if reputation is to be believed. Who talked them into shoving me into a dead woman's shoes. That's who just propositioned me."

"Oh, right, on top of all of that, she's also the captain of a Federation starship. Because if it was JUST that, it'd worry me and I'd lose sleep. But this? This?!?" Rita stepped out of the worn groove she was making in the turf carpet, pivoted and fell like a plank onto the couch. As she settled into it, Rita let out a shuddering breath.

"I have some anxieties I'd like to discuss please, Doctor?"

"Of course," replied the EMH softly, taking a seat and setting aside his medkit and PaDD. "I've dealt with the captain once or twice before as well in sickbay and I can confirm that she can be a bit... Stressful... to handle... at times... Please, continue."

“Well, not… stressful per se. Just… it makes me nervous because I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place here, you know? If I take it seriously- which she delivered it in that plausible deniability ‘I was only kidding but if you are in I was serious’ manner that hasn’t changed in apparently all the time I missed. Which I’m flattered, but I have a lot of trepidation about sleeping with the boss. Which I know sounds hypocritical because I was sleeping with the first officer when I was second, but the captain was still there as a command element to cut through the bullshit if there were disputes, which there weren’t because Vulcan.”

Rita paused in her clearly nervous rambling then brought up, “Plus I don’t think I swing that way, which is another problem. I don’t even know lesbian politics, so I’m not sure how to put that little tidbit out there. I mean, depending on the person maybe? I try to keep an open mind? But that’s definitely not where my taste lies, at least at the moment. So. Maybe stressful was the word?”

"A couple points I might add, if I may? The captain is from a very different culture from yours. Trill society tends towards the more liberal side of societies. As for the captain herself, from what I've heard, I believe that she joined Starfleet as a way to prove she was her own woman and more than her mother's pawn and heir to a family title. You grew up in an age where sexual inhibitions were not nearly as open as the ones she, and many other crewmembers crew up in. On the flip side of that, some crew members grew up in societies where it's rude to even eat in the same room with someone you're not related to. The captain may have let down her inhibitions for a moment in an attempt to pay you a compliment in her own way and it backfired. Perhaps try looking at it from that angle?"

“Pressuring me into a naked massage with her wife and inviting me to a lesbian three-way is a compliment?” Paris raised an eyebrow, then shook her head. She hadn’t expected this line of thought from the EMH, yet here it was. “I guess it could be viewed that way from a certain perspective? I mean, to me it just seems like a predatory abuse of power, because we had plenty of that back in my day. It was just that it tended to come from men in power, not women.”

“I don’t have any trouble accepting that different cultures operate differently- infinite diversity in infinite combinations, after all.” Paris spread her hands as she spoke, “We had swung back to conservative values in my time, historically speaking, so I know I’m a bit of a prude in the modern day. I’m just not used to those cultural differences taking precedence over Starfleet military etiquette and decorum. Seems like being backed into a no-win scenario to me, but sure, I guess it could have been a compliment?”

The EMH nodded at this with a serious look about him. "Then I guess it's a good thing the Captain isn't a Betazoid. They're empathic, communicate telepathically, and tend to go about their daily lives wither scantily clad or nude."

The hell is THAT supposed to mean?!? Rita wondered silently. "How do you know all of this about the Captain?" Paris asked, genuinely surprised at the insights and opinions the holographic physician had presented.

"For various reasons, she's had to make records of many of her prior counseling sessions a matter of public record." The Doctor waved his hand in the air, hoping to brush it off. "Because of her upbringing with pirates and unsavory types, she's had a few... Cultural sensitivity issues in the past. Most of the records are dry and boring, though some interesting points do come up right after she joined with her symbiont."

"So, okay, I guess that explains the whole okay with being naked thing and the proposition thing. We'll get back to all the stuff I didn't understand in that. My point is that she's a starship captain, and I'm directly in her chain of command. Doesn't that violate the SCMJ? It's fraternization, right?"

When she spoke again, the voice held much less inflection, and better diction. "Fraternization becomes a criminal offense under Article 134 of the Starfleet Code of Military Justice when the conduct "has compromised the chain of command, resulted in the appearance of partiality, or otherwise undermined good order, discipline, authority, or morale." Shaking her head in surprise, Rita chuckled. "Well, that all seems unlikely. So I guess fraternization isn't an issue, unless they rewrote the Starfleet Code of Military Justice over here."

Flopping down on the large soft couch, Paris inhaled deeply and stretched. Bringing her arms up in two stretches, she took hold of one wrist and pulled herself to the side, then sat up and switched grips. Her uniform rode up, and she reflexively tugged it back down again. "So. Let's look at the pros for a moment, shall we? I am desperately lonely. I have a friend and coworkers and a whole crew, but I'm sleeping alone and it hurts. A less lonely night would not be unwelcome, even if..."

"Yeah, I'll admit it. I'm pretty intimidated by the idea? I mean, bold galactic explorer, sure, but Orion masseuse and the captain is, um." Paris was silent for a moment, organizing her thoughts before speaking. "I don't know her. I've tried and we've talked but I just, I don't know who she is, how she works, how she thinks. I don't... get her isn't right, I don't know her. Does that make sense?"

"It does, in a way. You prefer to get to know someone before engaging in relations with them. If you feel uncomfortable, then let her know how you feel. You're both consenting adults and it will only get weird if you let it, fraternization or no." The EMH leaned forward and furrowed his brow in consternation, remembering something else Rita had said. "On top of that, it sounds like it was a stressful situation so who knows what she was thinking. You said her quarters were filled with... Tribbles? And they ate your clothes?"

“Very hungry tribbles. Yeahhhh, see, she established up front that she can do as she likes because Starfleet apparently has very little say in what she does and how she runs her ship. And when we get out of all this she mentioned that we are heading, not for a Starfleet starbase, but for the pirate starbase that Starfleet is apparently okay with her visiting because again, no say in it, which is still bizarre to me. I know, I know, enlightened future, different cultures, I am a dinosaur, I get all of that. So am I the only one here who sees the inherent danger in turning her down?” Rita asked plaintively.

The Doctor leaned back in his chair and thought it over for a moment before replying. "I prefer to think she'll take it like an adult. She knows the regulations and I'd honestly rather see the good in her, to be honest. She may be a special case within Starfleet, but I'd like to think there are certain lines she doesn't cross, if you know what I mean. As for her family's orbital fortress, Federation ships have been known to take shore leave at unconventional places before and I'm sure if Command had any issues, they would have denied the request and we would be headed for another port that includes rec facilities for photonics."

While she would have liked to have given the captain the benefit of the doubt, she didn’t know the woman and hadn’t had any luck in trying. At this point Rita had concerns that were apparently uniquely hers alone which were unable to be understood by anyone else. It seemed a lot like having a discussion with her brother, Rita realized, so she did exactly what she used to do in those cases- she lied.

“I’m sure you’re right and my fears are baseless and I am just being silly.” It was a standard Paris family answer, word for word that she had given to her father, brother, and more than a few captains along the way. When you couldn’t get through to the other person, stop trying. She even accompanied it with that little insincere smile that made her look demure and compliant. Funny how some habits never died for a reason.

The EMH leaned in closer to Rita and took her hands in his and spoke softly. "Rita... Look... I get it. You're worried. Scared even. The captain can be scary. Your ECG is frankly at dangerous levels so I'm worried about you much more than her. I'm trying to calm you down but I guess I haven't been doing a very good job of it. I'm sorry. The truth of the matter though, is that you're talking to the wrong person. Nothing is going to get resolved until you and her sit down and talk it through. If you want me there as support, I will be, but the sooner the better."

The greatest psychologists of the age in his databanks and he doesn’t understand that women talk out their problems to figure out how to deal with them before facing them? Wow. Way to go Rita, pick yourself a winner. “I kinda thought I’d talk about it and try to process it first so I could understand how I felt and why I feel the way that I do. But you’re right, I’ll have to face her sooner or later. So great, good session,” she lied

A concerned look flashed across the Doctor's face. "I... Oh... That would have been a much better course of treatment, wouldn't it? Knowledge does not equal wisdom, and it seems I have a long way to go still when it comes to counseling, as well as social interaction. I feel I've let you down and I lack the wisdom to know what to do with that knowledge."

“Welcome to life,” Rita offered with a half-smile that was more an expression of chagrin than happiness, as she patted the holographic fellow on the shoulder.

In order to plan a heist, you have to think of everything in advance. Because you won’t have time to affect the situation once it is in motion, but if you set all of the dominoes up in advance, as the plan comes together, they will all fall in order and the plan will go off as clockwork.

In this case, Rita Paris only had to outmaneuver a starship and space station’s resources and crew, then do her best to anticipate what strategies might be used against her once her plan was in motion, assuming someone figured it out. But first came research, because she had to be sure that she would be able to even try.

Pirate starbase was orbiting a planet, which stood to reason that there was a star nearby that both orbited. M class- for a change, Rita Paris was in luck. There needed to be more information gathered, because the database was very sketchy about allowing her access to top secret classified files which would enable one to slingshot around a star. Well, succesfully. As the Hera had done it before, Paris was working on finding the data via the mission logs, but it was slow going. She was no genius like Sonak or theoretically half the crew of the Hera, so it was hard to search for the information without alerting anyone just what she was pursuing.

Performing this maneuver required extremely precise calculations to be made, such as availability of fuel components, acceleration, and mass of a vessel through a time continuum. According to what she could find, the speed increase that dislodges the ship from the space-time continuum in a slingshot effect is caused by a mathematical factor called the Cochrane's factor. It is added as a multiplier to the basic warp formula based on the amount of curvature of space the ship is traveling through. While the factor within the normal interstellar medium of Federation space is an average of 1292.7238 and in the intergalactic void only 1, in the close proximity of stars and other massive objects it is so high that these disproportionately high speeds are created.

These were piloting terms, and thus the plucky pilot understood them. Calculating them for a ship whose mass was only the size of a runabout would be the tricky part, and there she was definitely a bit lost. But that did nothing to hinder her determination. It could be done- the question was could she do it.

Given that her research indicated that the Hera would be hard docked, that was an element that worked in her favor. Creating a glitch in the docking clamps should be easy to introduce, to insure that should someone decide to come chasing after her in the mighty starship, that wouldn’t be an issue. Provided they figured out what she was up to, which Rita was working to insure no one would know. The pirate vessels were another matter entirely- but hopefully Rita could be subtle about this and so long as no one knew what she was really attempting, then no one would make a move to stop her until it was too late.

The pirate vessels she couldn’t account for, as they were just an X-factor, as was the station itself. But the known variables in the equation were Rita and her piloting skills, the calculations of which she was very shaky and frankly planning to fly by the seat of her pants and hope for the best. And of course there was the vessel itself, which she was leaning toward the Arrow class runabout in the shuttlecraft hangar. It was light, versatile, streamlined and carried all of the amenities of a starship except room to jog. But even if she had to live in it for a few months, the runabout could accommodate her as a personal starship just fine.

While her sense of humor urged her to do it, Rita resisted renaming the small starship ‘Unlucky Lady’. That might just give her away too soon.

There was an assumption that while on shore leave at the station, there would be some degree of lax security involved in her taking out a small craft. She was, after all, the chief flight officer, and it was an entirely reasonable action for her to requisition a small craft and file a loose flight plan with the station. Somehow she suspected pirates were nowhere near as strict as Starfleet when it came to taking joyrides in system. After all, “Say, you’re flying a bit too close to star there” was likely not going to be particularly noticed until she was lined up and on target for a chronal trajectory.

Of course, there was also the question of whether the little craft was capable of surviving the trip. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and Rita Paris was nothing if not desperate. The situation on the Hera was untenable for her, and she wanted to go home. Back to the time that she belonged, if not the dimension. Even trapped in the past of a dimension that was not her own was preferable to being trapped in a future she didn’t understand. Getting back to the right era would be step one of her plan, then playing transporter bingo in an ion storm would be the second part of her plan. Which was absolutely terrifying to her, but there was simply no other way.

Of course, her conscience told her that whenever she landed in the past, she had to do something about this reality's Rita Paris. She couldn't leave... herself... like that. No one knew the unique hell of being a ship's ghost, and this reality's Rita might have been at it longer, if Rita hit the temporal mark correctly. But all of that was immaterial, not unlike Paris herself on the Constitution. If she could be saved, Rita was going to find a way. At this point she was thinking of writing up the notes for the procedure and sending them with a heartfelt plea to the captain and chief engineer, whomever they might be whenever she landed. Note to herself, she needed to write up 'How to Reintegrate a Paris'.

Of course, if she did that, she couldn't pretend to be Rita Paris of this reality anymore- her altruism would cost her the convenient identity and 'slot' in this reality. There was no question for her though- she had to save Rita or it would haunt her for the rest of her life. And even if she ended up stranded here or elsewhere, she'd still be able to look herself in the eye. Maybe if she stuck around, she could be a privateer. After all, she did have a rather remarkable starship with the arrow class runabout, the Selune.

In her head, the starship was already the Unlucky Lady. Stealth plating and 'engines tuned for stealth', Rita had liked it when she'd flown it in the simulator, and kept it as a pet project, qualifying higher and higher on the runabout. She'd studied the vessel and knew both her capabilities and her amenities. She'd had level 1 diagnostics run on all of the shuttlecraft and runabouts, and she had taken an inspection tour. If there was an override she had to find it, or they would shut her down remotely before she even began. And this one looked like someone's pet project, so Rita had to be extra careful.

Admittedly, it was a very loosely organized plan. One that had far more potential for her to be splattered on the windshield of time and space than arriving home intact. But she had to try. She didn’t belong here- in this alternate future she was perpetually behind the curve on everything, and she still got lost in anything other than a simple conversation. The pressure from her CO was certainly an issue, as turning down the come-on from the pirate princess in Starfleet on her private pirate starbase could potentially have numerous unpleasant consequences, many of whose possibilities seemed to delight in popping up randomly in her brain.

While there was the possibility that piracy might have changed in the dozen decades Rita was gone, generally it implied that Piracy is an act of robbery or criminal violence by ship or boat-borne attackers upon another ship or a settlement, typically with the goal of stealing cargo and other valuable items or properties. The variant of course was the somewhat nobler Privateer, who employs similar methods to piracy, but the captain acts under orders of the state authorizing the capture of merchant ships belonging to an enemy nation, making it a legitimate form of war-like activity by non-state actors. Just which state would authorize such things was still unclear to the time-tossed temptress, as surely the Federation did not condone such actions.

Yet there she sat in the command chair of a Starfleet vessel, which certainly lent credence to the possibility that Starfleet was complicit in the captain’s lifestyle. Not something that happened back in her day, to be sure, but times had certainly changed. Plus this is an entirely different dimension, so anything goes.

So much had changed, and perhaps if it was at least her history, her reality, Rita might have adapted better. But it was just too hard when everything she knew was wrong- Kirk went to the Academy a year later here, for instance. Even the most trivial of facts from her lifetime were consistently wrong here. Here, she and the crew of the Exeter were barely footnotes in history- all their accomplishments never happened. The fact that there was a Rita Paris whose asinine father had accidentally arranged for her murder was practically dumb luck on her part.

The truth was that she hated being stupid. She hated being the slow kid in every room. She hated not knowing where she stood. She hated not being valued, being so easy to dismiss as a relic who had nothing to contribute. She hated that she didn’t have a good relationship with the command staff. Xustos was far too Alpha male for her to get along with, and Captain Telvan was just a scary mystery to her. No attempt to get to know the woman had succeeded. And they'd literally been naked together.

Something that still bothered her was that damned dinner party. When the captain had invited her to dinner and to bring a +1, she had to know Rita would invite the only friend she’d made on the boat. Upon which she opened the evening by promoting Thex in front of her, which had galled Rita to no end, since Telvan had made it abundantly clear that she was deliberately withholding Rita’s rank and could grant it back on a whim. That seemed particularly humiliating to Paris, watching her only friend get promoted at what was supposed to be a fun evening. An evening where she was talked over, perpetually left behind in the conversation, manipulated through guilt over her eating habits and overall had her requests for any sort of validation ignored. She may as well have been the ghost of the Hera.

If Telvan was trying to seduce her, she clearly had no idea whom she was trying to seduce. Or, perhaps she was accustomed to a very different kind of woman than the Starfleet career gal, who came from the era of miniskirt uniforms and the glass ceiling.

It wasn’t to say that her time here had been all bad. She genuinely liked the colorful Mona Gonadie, and had appreciated her tutelage. The sims were good, but after time on the stick, talking to another pilot was the best way to process what you learned, in Rita's experience. Akira was a sweet girl, vulnerable yet brave, still trying to figure out how to be alive, just like the rest of them. Surprisingly, the woman who graduated 32nd in her class had apparently earned the respect of the chief science officer. Vaemyn recognized that her out-of-the-box approach did not mean her ideas were without merit. Thex had befriended her almost immediately, and together they’d already had quite a few adventures.

The one true regret Rita had would be leaving her friend behind, but Thex would be obligated to stop her if she knew what Rita was up to. Even if she came with her, in the past, Thex would be just as unhappy as Rita was in the future. But as a true blue engineer, Thex could never leave her girl, as she so often called the Hera. The retro throwback officer would have to write a letter to her little blue gal pal, explaining everything and setting it to deliver after she was gone. It was a lot like a ‘dear john’, but she couldn’t leave and not say goodbye to her only friend. Her easy smile, her tender heart, her bashful ways, her incredible dancing. The woman was a study in contrasts, and Rita had liked her instantly. The blue and the gold, the brave and the bold.

Tears welled up in her eyes at that, and Rita had to pause a bit.

The rest of the crew seemed varying degrees of disinterested in Rita’s existence, and that was fine by her. Her psychiatrist wouldn’t wonder what happened to her, as he was connected to the database, and she suspected he would misunderstand her motivations. She regretted that she wouldn’t be helping him toward citizenship, but while he made an amazing interactive database, he was shit as a therapist. Mansplaining, strongly skewed personal opinions and denying, downplaying or ignoring her actual expressed issues. Rita could have gotten that from nearly any man in a bar. She'd be in a lot less need of therapy soon enough, hopefully, if she could find her way back to Sonak.

The odds were almost completely stacked against her survival. If she should survive the time travel, there was no guarantee that she would succeed and arrive at the right point in history. If she succeeded in her little chronal cruise, there was still every possibility that she might end up transporting to the Mirror Universe and get stuck there. Or another reality that she was as yet unaware of that might be worse than the one she was in now. But Rita Paris was an explorer, and a survivor. She should not have survived so many of her missions, yet here she was, still alive and kicking at the dawn of the 25th century. Sometimes guts and planning and a little bit of luck really could see you through, if you believed in yourself.

If there was one thing Stuart and Sonak had taught her, it was to believe in herself.

Maica wiggled in Enalia's lap again as they snuggled in the remains of the tribble eaten couch in her quarters. "You obviously made her uncomfortable. You need to apologize immediately." They were a few hours from the orbital fortress and while Maica had certainly been jealous that Enalia had seen another woman naked, she was more upset that Rita was apparently upset by this.

"Yeah, neither of us have brought it up, but I think she's avoiding me now and even Thex says she's been worried about it." Sighing lightly, Enalia set aside her cocoa and called out. "Computer, please inform Lieutenant Rita Paris I need to speak with her as soon as possible."

With an acknowledgement chirp, the computer replied after a slight pause. "Message delivered."



=^=Captain Telvan needs to speak with you as soon as possible=^= the computer's voice intoned.

When the comm chirruped in her quarters, Rita jumped a bit. Then ice water ran down her back, and a pit opened up in her stomach. Shit shit shit shit shit...! She'd been erasing her searches and keeping everything on one PaDD to try to cover her tracks. Not that she figured anyone would bother looking to see what dumb ol' Rita was reading now. Why don't you know the history of the Trill yet? How can you be so culturally ignorant as to not understand the plumage display of the Miradonians? What do you mean, what's a Ferengi? But if the captain had tumbled to what she was up to, being hauled away and sold by pirates might sound appealing by comparison. Or it could just be the next move in whatever dance the spotted starfarer was doing with Rita, which was only mildly less anxiety inducing.

As that pit in her gut yawned a bit wider at the anticipation of what could or might be to come, Rita cleared her throat. Fight or flight practically had the needle buried on flight, but she could choose not to be a slave to her fears. Dr. Pinderschloss had taught her that back at Starfleet Psych, and it had stayed with her all these years. Of course, Sonak had taught her that her fear was often what kept both of them and sometimes the entire crew alive. Fear was also healthy and natural.

The hard-luck heroine plucked her old clamshell communicator up from out of the clutter. Her desktop was covered with PaDDs and flimsies of duty rosters, reports, requisitions, discipline, inspections, maintenance reports, flight logs. Being a chief meant a lot of paperwork. But since coming aboard the Hera it was the one thing that really hadn't changed much at all, and Rita could keep up with it all easily. So long as no one ever inspected the location where she was working, as it was always organized chaos. Mona Gonadie had thrown her out of the flight control office because she had made it fail inspection twice, which was a bad reflection on the department. So now she did most of the pencil pushing in her quarters, although on the exact same style conference table she used to have in her office, as well as the same crummy plastic chairs.

Deep breaths. Soldier up, little girl! The memory of her father's voice startled the career fleeter, yet still motivated her.

Flipping open the archaic communications device that was less than a month old, she tuned it to boost the output out of old habit. Clearing her throat again, the neurotic navigator worked to keep her voice steady and professional.

=^=Paris to Captain Telvan. You need to speak with me, ma'am?=^=

Enalia was quick to reply. "I do. We need to discuss what happened in my quarters the other day and clear up any misunderstandings. Also, I'd like your feedback on something, if you don't mind."

Panic reigned as the forceful statement came through, and a dozen panicked questions cropped up in Rita Paris' mind. Fortunately, the one that was relevant to the conversation was the one that made it out of her mouth. "Ah, yes ma'am." Are we going to have this conversation over the comms? That's not... crap, focus, Rita! "Would, ah, should I meet you in your ready room, ma'am?"

"Actually I'm in the ruins of my quarters right now with my wife..." Enalia replied sheepishly. "But wherever is comfortable for you is fine for me. Is there some place you'd prefer to talk?"

Somewhere NOT in your quarters with your wife? "We, ah, we could meet in my office, flight control?" Rita suggested. That's got a few exits, and it can be private but still the windows to the flight deck... that's a good choice, even if it isn't neutral ground. Hell, it's her ship there IS no neutral ground.

"Sounds good to me," the captain replied, standing and wondering if she should bring a gift as a peace offering. "I'll meet you there in a few minutes. Enalia out."

Staring at her communicator for a few seconds, Paris' brow furrowed and her mouth turned in a frown. "Enalia? Who's Enal-oh. That's her first name. I should try that- Rita out!" Looking askew, she shook her head. "Nope."

Diving through a fast sonic shower and into a freshly replicated uniform, Rita engaged in the ongoing struggle she had getting her comm badge off her old uniforms. 13 seconds this time- she had taken to timing herself to challenge herself, and that wasn't a great time, but it wasn't the worst. Running her fingers through her hair, she had to admit the black leggings were a nice accent to the minidress, the captain had been right. Gigline straight, uniform pressed and snugly fitted, Rita grabbed the clamshell communicator off her desk, clipped it to the loop on the back of her uniform and pointed herself out the door.

Off to the Jeffries tubes. Rita needed the cardio and they were a good place to collect your thoughts.

Enalia had beaten Rita to her office and had decided to wait for her inside in the guest chair. Rather than the 'evil looking' starfleet uniform, she had donned a somewhat asian looking neon green pants suit for the occasion hoping it would look a bit more bright and cheery to her. In her own family wearing green like this often meant good news and festivities, though she doubted Rita would get that reference. At least she knew that Mona would be on the bridge until they docked at the Artan Family Orbital Fortress. They'd have the office all to themselves just to talk.

Approaching the flight control office, Rita focused on even breathing and staying calm. Maybe she figured out that you are crazy uncomfortable? Thex wouldn't have talked to her, she practically turned purple when I brought it up. Maybe she wants to outline rules for a scene or explain the ground rules she has for threesomes? The unknown could wind Rita up faster than any actual problem, and with all of her other issues she was one step shy of just seeing if she could hide out until the Hera docked. But a summons from the captain was a summons from the captain no matter who it was, and Rita was nothing if not a Starfleet officer. The fleet might not work the same way here, but that didn't mean she had to compromise her ethics.

Entering the office that was bigger than four of her old quarters, Paris noticed the causal clothes, which might be good or bad. Reflexively she started to come to attention and report, then she remembered that she wasn't supposed to do that to the captain, so instead she shuffled a bit awkwardly. "You, ah, needed to see me, ma'am?"

"Ah, yeah..." Enalia stood back up and took a step back. "Please, this is your office. I'm sorry for intruding. I wanted to apologize for the other day. I said some things I shouldn't have. I'm sorry." The captain then bowed deeply, her hands on her thighs. "Please forgive my transgressions."

"It's your, uhm, your ship, ma'am..." Rita started, then stopped as she processed all of that. She very much didn't want to embarrass the captain nor denigrate her apology, but she also wanted to make sure they were talking about the same thing. After all, communication was key in moments like these. "Not to be coy, but what, ah, things... were those, ma'am?"

Not rising, Enalia explained. "Pretty much everything I said while we were naked. I shouldn't have come on to you like that at all. I should have been much more mindful of your culture and held my tongue. I should have also done better to help you clothe yourself and not given you random things from my wife's wardrobe. I need to maintain my cultural awareness and professionalism even in such conditions and I did not. For that I humbly apologize. Also, thank you for rescuing me." With that, she deepened her bow even further, bringing her body past ninety degrees with her legs.

"Oh, ma'am, that's..." Paris bowed in return, recalling that was proper etiquette in such cases. "I humbly accept your gracious apology, Captain. It did... I've been... it's, um, been... worrying me? I mean I am flattered and all but I... I don't know you at all and I just, I mean, I was in a bonded relationship until a few weeks ago and I, it's not that you aren't very attractive, ma'am, or, or your wife, it just... I wasn't... I'm not..." Paris was obviously relieved, but flustered practically to the point of tears. The amount this had been weighing on her was readily evident, and she was nervously babbling out her stream of thought. "Oh, and you're welcome? It was, I mean, it was the right thing to do. Right?"

With relief spread across her face, Enalia stood back up and smiled. "Yeah, thank you. It wasn't right of me at all."

"Sooooo... is this maybe a good moment to ask you about a few things that have me concerned, ma'am?" Paris asked hesitantly. It seemed like they were communicating, and the captain seemed to understand why she was so worked up, so maybe now was a good time to address a few other issues. What the hell, she can only clap me in irons, right??

"Please, feel free to ask me anything at all. I'll answer anything to the best of my ability."

"Okay... okay," Paris moved around to park her miniskirted rear against the edge of her desk, gripping the edge of it with a bit too much white-knuckle force to sell her casual pose. It was something she did often when nervous or insecure- years of being unable to touch anything had left her very grabby in a crisis. "So the, um, you mentioned that you don't really answer to Starfleet, and that they can't really enforce anything on you. And that you have a whole space station and pirate troops and a fleet. And the first night I was here you practically offered me a commission in your pirate fleet. So it... I have been confused, are you a pirate or Starfleet, ma'am? Because, see, I'm Starfleet... it's kind of all I have left, and I do have to obey the rules and regulations. So serving under a captain who doesn't makes me feel like... like I am not really in Starfleet? Does any of that make sense?"

Enalia sat back down in the guest chair and thought over how best to explain it. "No... I'm definitely Starfleet. I answer to Starfleet Intel Command currently. I do have some extra leeway with command because of my family ties, but overall I'm a blue blooded fleeter just like you. As for my family, under the Financial Divestment Agreement, since my mother has retired and there are no other surviving members of my family, I've named Captain Magnus as head of the Artan Family until I retire from Starfleet. I would introduce you to him when we arrive, but I'm told most of the fleet have been mobilized to clear out some sort of Syndicate scheme. They've been a bit more active in Federation space and... And I'm sure that's not very reassuring, is it?" Smiling weakly, Enalia nodded. "Yeah normal people would be scared to death of me, wouldn't they?"

"Um, no, it is, I wouldn't... ah..." Paris couldn't lie, much to her chagrin. "I'm normal people, ma'am. I may have been a little bit worried about turning down your offer because of the impression that you were independent, and we're headed for your personal pirate space station which I assumed put you even further from any sort of restraint, and... I have been a little, um... " Paris cast about for a good word that wasn't 'terrified'. Lamely, all she could come up with as a vast understatement was, "Anxious?"

Enalia chuckled and pointed to Rita's white knuckled grip on the edge of her desk. "I'd say scared is the word you're looking for. You're going to break your desk if you keep that up. Please, relax. I'm not going to kill, kidnap, rape, or force you to compromise your morals in any way. I may ask you to do some questionable things from time to time, but they'll be handed down from Intel Command and in the best interest of the Federation as a whole. I promise they will not be personal. In fact, when my sister was killed on a mission for Intel, I took a brief leave to deal with it before resuming my duties." With the mention of her sister, Enalia went silent and looked down at her hands laying in her lap. They hadn't been close, but she still had high hopes for her.

"I'm, um, sorry to hear about your sister, ma'am," Rita expressed as she pried her hands loose from the edge of the desk and fidgeted self-consciously. "Thanks for the, ah, reassurance. It wasn't clear, and I was... I didn't really know who to ask. I haven't had a lot of, ah, luck connecting with people here." There was her understatement of the century, particularly when it came to the captain. But the fact that she was taking time to talk to Rita meant a lot, and was putting her more at ease.

"Yeah, I gathered as much. A few reports mentioned your awkwardness. You did very well in getting us out of that storm though." Enalia was still a bit morose with the talk of her family. But at hearing her words, Paris' eyes lit up. A little recognition from the CO went a long way with her- it immediately indicated that she wasn't invisible and that her efforts had not gone unnoticed, which provided enormous validation for her.

"Thank you, Captain."

A deep breath, held for a moment, and Enalia let it out slowly while looking out the panoramic windows into the main shuttle bay. "But hey, everyone that's leapt through time has had difficulty adjusting, right?"

Paris nodded, then replied quietly and earnestly. "I guess so. This is my first time."

Then Enalia dropped a bit of a bombshell. "I probably shouldn't mention this, but Ila's been running some numbers. She thinks that with the power from the fortress we might be able to send a tiny comm device to your time and dimension that we can link with now and then. I'm saying that if it works, you could call home... If you wanted..."

The concept of being able to at least send a message or even talk to home, was an even greater surprise than the displaced damsel had been prepared for, and her eyes welled up with tears. All she managed to squeak out was, "Really?"

"She's been in the quantum miniaturization lab up in the pod for the past few days trying to build a communicator from your time with tech from our time that they can't scan and violate the temporal prime directive on. She says that if it works, she thinks that you can send and receive about six minutes of messages a month. It's not much..." Enalia was still looking out the window as she spoke, but she turned back to look at Rita and sighed. "And I'll probably get in trouble with Command since this will use a lot of our particles for that transporter on what they'll see as a personal project. And I'm sure it'll violate half a dozen protocols on top of that. Oh, and it'll prove to a lot of my detractors that I'm a loose cannon and should be kicked from Starfleet." That lopsided grin of hers started creeping back onto her face. "But I think I have enough commendations and galaxy saving events under my belt to get away with just a few scoldings. Besides, this is how science advances, isn't it? We can learn a lot from this and it's for a good cause so a couple other commands should back me up. What do you say?"

"You'd do all of that for me, Captain?" Paris squeaked out before mopping at the waterworks.

"Barring erasing your memories of the past month or so and finding a way to send you home... Yeah." Enalia resumed her serious look.

There was a moment of contemplation on the part of the buxom blonde bombardier, as she weighed over current events and developments, and internally she came to a decision. "Respectfully? I propose one message, ma'am," she offered. Paris rose to stand, and began taking slow, measured steps.

"Just a message in a bottle to let my command know what happened to me, one last report. They'll know where and when I am, and if they can come find me then we won't have violated anything. Well, whoever shows up will have, but we didn't have a temporal prime directive back in my day. Or dimension."

"If I have the capacity to report in it's my duty to do so, and you are accommodating that in the spirit of Starfleet cooperation. If the fleet says I'm Starfleet, that validates my dimension's Starfleet as well, which means this is a Starfleet joint exercise. That would be my argument to Command, and I don't think it makes you as much of a, uh, cannon." Leave it to the career Starfleet gal who had grown up around senior officers to know how to politic with the brass.

"Besides, I wholeheartedly agree with you, Captain. This is precisely the sort of thing we're out here to discover and explore, to teach to the next generation who will go farther and do it better for what we learned and taught them. Also?" Unclipping the communicator from her belt, the long-lost lieutenant held up her clamshell gold and black communicator. Flipping it open, it chirruped cheerfully.

"We can't violate anything if we send them back their own technology."

The captain nodded thoughtfully. "That would greatly simplify matters. We'll have to run it by Ila and have her go over the new math. If that's what you want though, that's what we'll do."

"Yes ma'am. I'm... I'm here now, and I need to deal with that. If it ever gets too bad I can always try a slingshot maneuver in a shuttlecraft, right?" Rita nervously laughed at her own private joke. Stepping back to her desk, the plucky extradimensional explorer slid her rear up on it, letting her legs dangle over the side. Letting out one very long breath, she looked like the weight of the world had been taken off her shoulders.

"Thank you ma'am. Thank you for figuring out something was wrong and making it right. Thanks for telling me I did good. I needed that. Thanks for being a real Starfleet captain... Captain." Paris smiled a cover girl's perfect balance of expression to sell her point.

"I may have several failings, but I do try to make up for them. I'm just glad I was able to in this case." Then a look of consternation crossed Enalia's face. "As for a slingshot maneuver... The only shuttle we have that might survive one is the Thor and I'm not sure it can carry enough antimatter to make it. On top of that, you would need to do a trans-dimensional transport matched to your original universe's signature and hope there's something at where you transport to. There are easier ways to commit suicide, you know..."

"Just, just kidding ma'am," Paris lied entirely unconvincingly. Then her mouth quirked to the side and she eyed the captain through half-lidded eyes. "If I may, ma'am, I think I know how this happened. It's because I just don't know you- I don't know who you are, what you believe, what you stand for. I've read your service jacket, but that's not who you are, just where you've been and what you've done in Starfleet. I guess... I have a little trouble trusting a commander I don't know. Which I know the Commander would say is unprofessional, because we just obey lawful orders. But the ice has been a little slippery under me for a few weeks, ma'am, if you get my meaning. It'd help if I have somebody to hold onto. Which," Paris balked and held her hands out before her. "I mean, not in a come-on sort of way, just someone I can, ah, believe in?"

Rolling her eyes at her own audible anxiety, Paris flipped her bangs out of her face and pushed her hair back into a pompadour. "I think it's likely we wouldn't have had this problem if maybe I knew a little bit about you? Maybe tell me... about your sister?" The spotted captain had brought her up earlier and it looked like it had bothered her to recall it, so maybe she wanted to talk about her.

"About my sister?" Enalia stared blankly at Rita for a few seconds before looking back down at her hands. "I guess I could." It took her a few more moments and a sigh before she actually spoke though. "As the future head of the family I was raised to be... Formal? A leader? I also started inspecting most of our holdings since I was eight. She was trained more in fleet activities so we didn't really get to see much of each other and when we did, I'm not sure we really got along. When I was kidnapped at the age of fifteen, she was the one that captained the rescue mission. They kept her out of danger and Captain Magnus was there looking over her shoulder, but she made all the plans and decisions. Thirty seven Syndicate pirates were dead by her orders at the age of thirteen. Not long after that I joined the Trill Home Defense Force. I told them it was for experience but I think I was running from her and her resentful eyes."

Enalia paused a moment and wrung her hands a bit before continuing. "I'm sure you don't know anything about Trill society or symbionts or the joining. Suffice it to say that a few hundred thousand of us join with a slug-like creature and it lives in our pouch. Our minds become one and we live until we die while the symbiont goes on to join with a new host with our memories. Family ties and all, I was selected for a symbiont and my mother demanded I take over so she could retire. I refused and ran off to Starfleet. Told her to give it to my sister. I said some unkind words and thought that that would be it."

"It wasn't. It never is. They held the position for me. Yeah, my sister ran about half of things, but apparently she was a bit more ruthless than people liked, there was a bit of a power struggle... She was a fleet captain at the time and Schwein had to put her in her place. All while this is going on, the Federation was still sending them peacekeeping missions to keep other pirates in line like we have been for the past three generations."

"Anyway, things had finally settled down when... My lover from the academy... And our current Intel liaison... Commodore Meowlith... Contracted her for what was supposed to be a simple escort mission to determine if a medical contractor the Federation was about to do business with was actually someone we were investigating for severe eugenics violations or not." Enalia paused a bit longer this time. "He was. Farenia... The Commodore was left barely alive. My sister and her crew were fed to... To his demon dogs..." As Enalia choked out the words, a few tears slipped from her eyes. Though she knew she didn't care for her sister, she was still family and try as she might, it still scarred her deeply.

There was the awkward struggle between propriety and what she thought was right, and as usual, Rita Paris' moral compass called the shots for her. Despite the fact that half an hour ago she was plotting how to escape from the woman, in this moment it was clear that her captain needed support. Sliding off the desk, Paris gingerly reached out to offer the weeping woman a shoulder hug, even as she produced a fresh tissue apparently from somewhere in her bra, to hand to the Trill. "That's horrible, ma'am. I'm sorry, this must be so hard for you..."

Taking the tissue, Enalia stared at it a moment before wiping the tears away. "Thank you... I... Don't tell Schwein I'm not the perfect princess she thinks I am. It might break her heart. At the service I had to be the bastion of matronly duty and honor. Show no emotion and act like an alabaster statue of... But I just wanted to talk with her... Try and work things out one last time..." As more tears fell, Enalia tried to catch them all with the tissue, but she'd lost control of all the feelings she'd been bottling up this whole time. "And then I got scolded by everyone for taking a week off... It's not fair..."

"No ma'am, it most certainly is not," Paris agreed easily, stroking the captain's hair and shifting to turn the shoulder hug into more of a resting on the bosom hug as she settled her rear end onto the arm of the chair. "We all need time to grieve, to process, to scream at the universe for the stinking injustice of it all. It's okay to feel all of those things, ma'am. That's what makes us... people."

"I'm sorry... I just... I'm sorry..." Enalia leaned in a bit and let the tears flow freely now, her hands trying to cover the shame that was her crying face. it felt good but it felt shameful at the same time. For so long she'd not allowed herself to cry and now it all came rushing out. She even gave canned answers during therapy sessions to avoid things like this but something about this temporally and dimensionally displaced traveler opened her up like a can of worms and burnt her down.

"S'okay Cap'n, let it out. Yell if you like, the room's soundproof and no one will hear." Rita boggled at the turn of events as now she comforted the captain. If the woman was a manipulator, she was a master. But the simple truth was that Rita believed her. From what she'd said, it didn't sound like tears were very accepted in the world of piracy. "What was your sister's name, ma'am? You told me the whole story, but you never once mentioned her name. You never do, because it brings it all back, doesn't it? Please tell me her name."

Enalia nodded and tried to compose herself a bit, wiping at her face with the now soaked tissue. "Regina..." She got it out finally. When she spoke again, it was soft and more like a flow of consciousness as she just let the tears flow without even trying to stop them. It was obvious that this was something that she had kept buried deep inside of her for most of her life.

"Regina Artan. Daughter of Havren and Arenara Artan. She looked a bit more like dad. Had his eyes and his spots. Good with a scope too. She was a marksman a year before me. Father was proud of her for that. Mother made me train harder. When I finally mastered all the weapons expected of me, she had already started commanding her first ship. On my first orientation cruise the Syndicate decided it was a good time to attack our territory. I don't remember why, but my father... He gave his life to try to protect me... I couldn't do anything to..."

For a moment Enalia just sat there and let herself cry, her eyes wide yet unseeing as the hot salty tears fell. "When I was finally rescued... I don't think she ever forgave me... I think they both blamed me... I had to get away..."

The comely companion of heroes had begun the conversation wanting to get to know the Hera's commander. And now Rita knew what she suspected few others knew about the Trill captain that had come from pirates and run away to Starfleet. Another time she'd ask about her father, but for now, stroking her hair and holding her gave the pirate princess something to cling to in the squall of emotions Rita had quite accidentally pried loose. But when she had spoken earlier of somebody to hold onto, sometimes that was in the physical sense. She suspected that the captain certainly would understand that now.

Letting the spotted starship commander sob it out for a few more minutes, Rita waited til the storm was beginning to subside a bit, then she gingerly got up. Reassuring with gestures, she went to the sink, grabbed a washcloth from one of the utility drawers, ran it under some cold water and brought it back to the captain, squatting down beside her so as not to be looming over her.

"Here you go, ma'am. Look, I assume when we pull in you have to go be the bastion of matronly duty and honor. That's only a few hours away, and your quarters are debris. Why don't you go grab Mrs. Telvan, and I'll make us all a nice lasagna before we get to port. Then you can use my quarters to get ready since it still has... walls and so forth. We can all talk and clear the air with Mrs. Telvan, because I assume she knew about all of this? You mentioned that honesty was best and she always knows when people are lying So... dinner?" Paris beamed a hopeful smile up at the captain.

Rubbing the washcloth over her face, Enalia did her best to try to get some of her dignity back. She couldn't bring herself to look Rita in the eye though. She felt like she'd lost something, though she knew she hadn't. Maybe she gained something instead? She'd have to think about it. Plenty of time to do that on shore leave as long as the universe didn't decide to try to destroy itself again without the crew of the Hera.

Finishing up with the washcloth, Enalia nodded again with an attempt at a smile. "Okay... Lasagna it is. I'm bringing chocolate though. I have caches all over the ship just in case."

"I could really do with some chocolate after the past few days, ma'am. Hey," Rita reached up to pick the captain's chin up to meet her gaze. "It's okay cap'n. I think it was really brave of you to open up to me like that, and let yourself be vulnerable. It means a lot to me that you trust me that much, and I promise I'll keep your secrets. Unless it violates an order or endangers you or others, anything in confidence is confidential. I promise on my honor as a Starfleet officer."

It might have sounded hokey from most, insincere at best. But while the girl in the old-fashioned uniform genuinely was a terrible liar, the balance of that was that when she spoke from her heart, you could not help but know she spoke the truth. That small encouraging smile was there, and those big baby blue eyes, and as much as she looked the part, she genuinely pontificated like the explorers of her age, those pioneers who braved so much with so little.

Enalia couldn't help but smile at that. Rita really was the model Starfleet recruitment poster right now, and reminded her of all the old holoclips of the 23rd century. In particular... "You kind of remind me of Captain Sonya Alexander. She commanded the USS Ajax during the Four Years War with the Klingons back in your time. I saw quite a few of her recruitment ads growing up."

“Oh, no fair! You even had lady captains back then?!?” Rita pouted slightly. “Growing up, that was my dream- that I’d be the first lady captain of a starship. I met Admiral Archer when I was about eight years old, and when he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I told him so. He had a good chuckle at that, and gave me an autographed photo made out to “Captain Rita Paris”. I had it on the wall of every quarters or office I ever had, and that drove me for many years. Well, that and that crazy idea that I'd impress my father,” the Starfleet legacy snickered.

"I think our first female Federation Starfleet captain was... The NX-02 USS Columbia, Erika Hernandez." Enalia replied with a few blinks, trying to remember her Academy history lessons. "I think it was also the second official Federation starship as well. Sorry. I guess our history diverged quite a bit."

The pretty pilot’s jaw dropped, then irritation burbled up. “Well that’s a fine how do you do! Hrmph! We had lady admirals, but still no women sitting in the center seat in my universe. And you had them as soon as the second NX hit the spaceways.” Despite herself, Rita chuckled. “Jeez, I guess I just come from the backwater sexist dimension…”

Enalia looked thoughtful for a moment, tapping her chin. "That's odd because I only know of one female admiral before like... Twenty years ago? Hmm... Maybe we're sexist in a different way..."

The change of subject seemed to have gotten the captain’s mind off darker paths, and for her part, Rita Paris was so relieved as to be genuinely happy. She hadn’t realized how many misconceptions and misgivings she had been collecting since the moment she had come aboard the Hera, and to have so much of it taken away in one conversation left her with a mixture of emotions, but the most welcome was relief. Captain Telvan was a person, and a Starfleet captain, and she wasn’t plotting any sort of malice towards the personage of the trapped time traveler. Smoothly rising from the crouch she had been holding beside the captain, the leggy lieutenant rose, then held out her hand.

“C’mon cap’n. Let’s go get your wife, get some hot food in you and get you ready to face your… pirates? Whatever it is, you aren’t alone, ma’am.” She may as well have been talking to herself, but the lost navigator was focused on taking care of the captain, who apparently was not as accustomed to being crippled by her emotions as the passionate Paris.

Taking Rita's hand, Enalia stood with a lopsided grin on her face. "An army of holographic Trill Catgirl Maids and a few retainers, I'm sure. Thank you. For everything. Now let's go get Maica and some chocolates... but not while holding hands. Someone might get the wrong idea." Holding Rita's hand up, Enalia winked and headed for the door, tossing the washcloth into the sink on the way.

"That one's on you."

It still counted as cooking if you replicated the ingredients, blended them together, then cooked them to create a dish. Back on the Exeter, Rita had cut a deal with the horticultural division, given how many vegetables she went through when cooking. Whole cooked meals came out of the food replicators in her day, not components or 'whatever you want'.

Since coming aboard the Hera, Rita Paris had redecorated her quarters, requisitioning the furnishings she desired, and overall the Starfleet legacy had done her best to make it feel like home. At least to her. The mesh walls and furnishings replicated the look and feel of starship quarters from the 2260's, right down to the indoor/outdoor dark blue short weave carpeting.

Of course, there were definite improvements. Which included an oven, although they did not offer as an option one of the tiny ez-bake ovens she used to have in her quarters on the Exeter. Now she even had a refrigerator in her actual room-in-her-quarters kitchen, which was an actual sectioned off section of her quarters. Which beat the hell out of using a corner of her desk like she used to on the Exeter. The oven was ready, of course, because it took no time to preheat. The replicator had taken her list of ingredients and replicated them one after the other as she removed them from the pad. In short order, pots were on the stove, sauce was brewing and noodles were boiling as the scent of oregano and fennel seed Italian cooking filled the air.

The Captain had gone to fetch the misses, so they could have a few moments alone before coming to visit some quarters where the remains of your silk tapestries aren't piled on the floor and most of the furniture isn't springs and wood. Riding the elation of their meeting on the flight deck, Rita realized this would be an entirely different dynamic. Which was when she realized that she might be making things more, not less awkward.

No. Humans have such a richness in your culinary traditions, inspired by your powerful sensuality and deep emotional commitment to food sharing, Sonak had said, and it was true. This was how her people came together, to know one another. This was a good idea- she needed to trust her instincts.

Enalia and Maica both had what amounted to overnight bags over opposite shoulders as they held hands, shoulders bumping as they made their way to Rita's quarters. They had made a stop first at their nearest cache of real foodstuffs to pick out several boxes of chocolates, then stopped by one of the public use clothing and industrial replicators for some uniform and clothing choices on the way. It was a bit of a waste of the already straining energy reserves, but they would be docked and replenishing their supplies soon anyway so it wouldn't matter much in the long run.

Giggling and pressing their foreheads together conspiratorially, they pressed Rita's door chime at the same time, hands still clasped as if it were the silliest thing they had ever done.

The door opened of it's own accord, as Paris could be heard thanking the computer. "C'mon in!" she called from across the cavernous quarters, which she had broken up with some lightweight movable walls stationed here and there to break up the large empty feeling of her allotted space. The path from the door to the living room was still clear, which then led to the dining room. Thus when Paris poked her head out of the kitchen, she nodded. "Come sit down! I have a few more minutes in the kitchen then we just wait for it to bake."

Maica and Enalia entered, and while Enalia took both bags, Maica couldn't help but be a bit nosy. "Oooh... I like how you broke up your quarters. It feels more like an apartment like this. Your use of color is nice too. It's a sharp contrast from the beige, gold, and silver across so much of the rest of the ship." The walls were, for the most part, mid 23rd century duranium, or 'starship grey'. The walls were mostly mesh and screens, and did not look sturdy save for a few load bearing versions.

Enalia could only smile as she headed to what she assumed was the dining table and where she was meant to sit. She slung both bags across the back of one chair, pulled several boxes of assorted chocolates out of one, then had a seat. "I wasn't sure what kind of chocolates you'd enjoy, so we just grabbed a bunch of sampler boxes. You're actually cooking, aren't you? I'm sorry... that's such a rarity these days."

"I know," Rita replied from the kitchen, which could be seen into from the dining room. For a change, she was clad in an oversize Starfleet Academy t-shirt with the collar cut out and a pair of navy leggings as she bustled about, draining the pasta. "It's much more convenient to replicate a meal and be done with it. But I enjoy the ritual, the assembly of the ingredients in a certain order that add up to the final product you're attempting to achieve. And if you do it right, you produce something by your own hand that enriches everyone at the table, and brings them closer through breaking bread together."

Stepping out from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a red checkered towel, Rita shrugged and smiled a wistful smile. "I don't know how many races have this tradition. But I know mine does. So I share it... with my shipmates, and my friends."

"It's a wonderful tradition that I think a lot of the Federation member planets have. A word of caution though - Bolian banquets can last for weeks. Divine food but the endless talking... Ugh..." Enalia waved a hand before sliding the boxes across the table. "As for Trill culture, traditionally, men do most of the cooking and it was never in my schooling growing up, so I never learned. It's one of the reasons we had a chef aboard, but she passed on during our last mission. Interested in helping me look for a new one while on shore leave?"

"I'd..." Paris took a moment to consider, and realized she had no idea of where they were going. She's have to hit Thex up to be her shore leave buddy. And she had to stay aboard for at least the first 48, because she was sending Mona Gonadie on liberty immediately. Once they were docked the flight control chief would discuss how to break up duty and shore leave between them. But in the moment, the captain was waiting for an answer.

Well, it is her space fortress... "I'd love to, ma'am. Only I'm not sure how much help I'll be- so far everything still tastes like either poop or tinfoil to me." Holding up one hand to Maica, Rita offered sheepishly, "No offense, Mrs. Telvan. I have an eating disorder on top of the food in this dimension tasting really off to me, so I swear it wasn't your cooking. Pretty sure my cooking is going to taste like mud too, but hopefully it'll be better for you two." At that realization, Paris paused.

"Holograms don't eat matter?" she recalled. "You offered me a holographic crab, which I still can't quite grasp how that works. But you, I can't cook for you because you're..." the hourglass heroine waved her arm in Maica's general direction. "I'm sorry- ah, how do I...?"

"Photonic?" Maica waved it off as she headed into the dining room as well. "Most of the galaxy is still trying to figure it out as well. As for the food, I'll scan what you serve and make a holographic portion I can eat. We do it all the time so 'Nalia doesn't have to eat alone."

"Oh... phew! Okay, thank you. I kinda felt like a jerk inviting you to dinner when I realized I hadn't cooked for you too. But hey, holographic portions work for me Muh... uh..." Rita paused in her layering of the hastily prepared sauce, sauteed mushrooms, ricotta and mozzarella cheese, baby spinach and wide flat noodles together, to sideye the emerald-skinned intelligence. "No one calls you Mrs. Telvan, do they, ma'am?" Rita asked Maica.

The married couple giggled like they were sharing an inside joke before Maica spoke. "I suppose we should explain our names, huh?"

"Telvan is the name of the symbiont - the slug in my pouch I share minds with," Enalia explained. "While joined, my last name is that of the Symbiont but the rest of my family would be named Artan."

"To simplify things, I kept my name the way it was for... Logistical reasons. Mechanized Artificial Intelligence Computer/Copulation Assistant Model Three Fork Fortyseven. Please just call me Maica though."

"I'll call you perfectly delicious," Enalia bumped her forehead to Maica's and spurred more giggles from the couple.

A finger upraised in question, then went back down again as Paris' mouth assumed something of an 'O' of surprise. Then the finger came up again, followed by a shake of the head. Finally she settled for a bit of a dazed expression and an "Okay. So, the uh, the symbiont... someday someone else will walk away with all of your memories ma'am? They'll remember everything, like, this conversation, or just general or.. I guess, how does that work?" There was no judgment in the long-lost lieutenant's tone. As usual, there was that Starfleet drive to try to grasp some understanding of the unknown as she finished layering the casserole together.

"Everything and a fair bit of my personality as well. Future hosts will be able to perform a ceremony where they'll literally be able to talk with me for a few hours and get to know just me without the noise of other past hosts or the symbiont." Enalia explained. "That should tell you just how deeply embedded in the Trill nervous system the symbiont goes. Removal means death for the host, but the symbiont can live over a thousand years."

"Wow, that's... that's really incredible! You're like the Doctor, or the Witchblade- moving from one life to the next, gaining experience as each of you advises the current incarnation... wow!" While it might not make much sense to anyone from this century, it made perfect sense to Rita as she managed to process yet another piece of an alien culture. Emboldened by her success, Paris pressed on. "So Maica... logistical reasons?"

"Uh... Doctor? Who?" Enalia muttered, clearly confused. "Whatblade...?"

Maica was a bit confused as well but she held out her hand, a Federation ID popping up above it. "I would have had to have gone through a lot to get it changed on my ID. Name changes are easy for organics, but the process isn't so easy for most artificial life forms yet. Unless you serve in Starfleet, I suppose... different processes there."

"I don't understand. Your ID?" Rita shoved the lasagna into the oven along with the garlic bread, then called out for the computer to replicate her a 30 ounce glass of water, thanked it and picked it up smoothly on her way to sit down at the rectangular dining room table. Plucking up a chocolate she popped one in her mouth, only to make a surprised face, then she laboriously chewed it a few times before swallowing it with a bit of effort. "I'm sorry ma'am, there's more that I don't know than do about photonic life in the Federation. The idea of holographic life is new to me, but I do think it's amazing. Also potentially worrisome I guess? Watching the ship's holo emitters go haywire was educational in that regard, to say the least. So what's the ID, just a scannable? A frequency identifier? Why is it hard to change, what's the reasoning behind that?"

Those big blue eyes widened as Paris backpedaled. "Assuming it's okay to ask you those questions and that I'm not committing some taboo, or being rude? If so, I'm very sorry ma'am, I mean no offense. I honestly just don't know, and if I don't ask I never will."

Maica smiled politely as she pulled her ID back. "No, it's perfectly fine. It's just an ID just like yours. You just carry yours a little differently. Mine is hard coded into my matrix while yours is in your comm badge or registered to your DNA. That's one of the reasons why it's hard for me to change mine though. Yours can be changed in a database while mine as a civilian would require etching inside of a nearly impregnable black box. Changing my internal identifier would be as hard as changing your entire DNA sequence."

"As for the holoemitters going crazy..." Maica glanced worriedly to Enalia, who knew exactly what she was worried about.

Enalia smiled comfortingly and squeezed Maica's hand. "Don't worry. I've put in an emergency request and her mothers are on their way. Akira will be better in no time. Thankfully the Merlin was nearby, so they'll get to the fortress shortly after us."

"You had Daedalus class hospital ships in your time, right?" Enalia asked of Rita, who nodded. The starship design of the globe in place of the saucer in Federation hospital ships went back even further than Rita's time, but she had been pleased to discover that the tradition held in the future. "One of the modern variants is the Hope class, and Maica's counterpart from another dimension now captains one. She's also one of Akira's mothers. She's an android though. Weird divergence in the timelines... Anyway, Andy, her other mother and Captain Maica's wife should be able to help Akira. She's a genius at this sort of thing."

"Oh... I didn't know anything had happened to the kid," Rita said, feeling somehow guilty that she hadn't realized the holographic girl would be vulnerable in such a moment, nor that she'd gotten hurt during their escape from the dark matter ion storm. "I was so focused on surviving deck to deck and getting us out of there I completely forgot... I guess I expected her to do the same as you and retreat to safety." It seemed moronic to ask about Akira's condition, since Rita probably wouldn't understand it anyway. All she could do was hope for the best. "I hope she'll be okay..."

"She didn't have a black box to escape into like I or the EMH did. Well, she did, but she didn't get into her android body before..." Maica looked a bit worried and downcast.

“I know why. I visited with her, because cap'n told me to. At the time, she was freaked out about the fact that she’d lost control of her android body down on the planet on the last away mission she went on. It was definitely traumatizing for her, and she was still struggling with it. I figured someone else was looking out for her, maybe her boyfriend or a counselor. I guess I should have checked up on her after all,” Paris frowned, feeling a bit chagrined that she should have put the clues together to realize something was wrong for the ops chief given her unique status and the nature of the emergency.

Enalia picked up where she left off. "Reports say that some sort of program with a Doctor and giant lizards and stone angels got past her security and corrupted her. She should be fine, but for now her personality matrix isn't entirely stable and she thinks she's some sort of... Lizard person? I'm a bit hazy on the details after that. I normally don't go in for all that holo-novel shenaniganry."

“Ooh, ohh, a, ah, a Silurian! I guess Doctor Who is a popular fiction here too- that stands to reason,” Rita mentioned as she handed a wine bottle and a corkscrew to the captain. “And explains why you didn't get my geek reference. Because you are many things, Captain, but you are not a geek."

"So- okay, bear with me if I say something awful here, but I've learned summary statements help at times like this. So Akira's core program got corrupted by a holonovel program and it made alterations to her? That poor kid, that’s got to be terrifying!” Rita fetched a trio of wine glasses out, as despite discussing a holographic shipmate and entertaining another, it continued to slip Rita’s mind that Maica did not eat or drink in the conventional sense, and she naturally kept trying to offer hospitality to her as if she were made of matter instead of light and force fields.

Maica didn't care, though. She just enjoyed the company. Enalia knew exactly what to do with the corkscrew and popped open the wine bottle professionally, and poured two glasses without so much as a single drop out of place. Maica then scanned one of the glasses and filled her own glass with a holographic copy of it while Rita wasn't looking. "She's had a lot of terrifying experiences in such a short life. Soon she'll start thinking existence is this horrific thing not worth experiencing, so I just hope she has some good ones. Like lasagna made by a friend."

“Aww, that's so sweet! Thank you," Rita paused to take the compliment and beam a bit- cooking did make her happy, and reminded her of good times in the past as she made good memories in the present. As the conversation progressed, Rita put a large potholder mitten over her hand to pull out the garlic bread, though no alarm had sounded. Transferring the split bread loaf to a cutting board that resembled wood, she pulled out a large knife and adroitly cut the bread into 3” pieces, then transferred them to a basket with a red napkin draped over it, so that she could draw up the corners of the napkin to keep the heat in.

"I caught some of her story, and it all sounds pretty traumatic. And she’s only a year old- I would never call her a kid to her face, but she definitely counts as one. And she was already on slippery footing from that… Denalia? mission, now this.” Delivering the bread to the table, her 'vintage' distressed t-shirt which read ‘Starfleet Academy class of 2255’ was spattered with sauce and water stains. Oblivious or uncaring of that fact, Paris hustled back to the kitchen to grab plates. “That girl might be the only person onboard who’s more lost on this boat than me. I guess I should keep closer tabs on her.”

"As her aunts, we'd both appreciate it," Maica said as she slapped Enalia's hand away from the basket of bread. "Wait for dinner to be served..." She whispered to her wife in a scolding tone.

Enalia pulled her hand back, rubbing the back of it. "Ah, definitely. And I know you'll enjoy meeting her mothers. They're both in love with a lot of twenty first century culture and will probably try to feed you... What was it? Burgers and fries? Greasiest food I had ever eaten."

“I hope not,” Paris muttered, knowing how her stomach reacted to greasy meat under normal circumstances, forget about when everything tasted terrible from a trans-dimensional transfer malady. “And don’t wait on the bread, it’s an appetizer,” the buxom blonde bustled over, setting a butter dish with room temperature butter, a butter knife and a shaker of grated parmigiana cheese on the table. It was also evident in that motion that she was wearing a sports bra underneath, as the shirt tended to flop open when she moved in such a way, which she did not appear to notice nor did she appear to care. A few splashes on a plate and she returned with oil and balsamic vinegar together on a plate, into which she cracked some pepper, setting the pepper shaker on the table smoothly as she departed again for the kitchen.

“Meanwhile, I’ll do what I can for Akira… I really feel badly that this has her so messed up on top of her still trying to deal with the last hit she took. She’s going to need a lot to be able to feel safe again after all of this… any good ideas there?” As per usual, it could immediately be relied upon that if someone had a problem, Paris wanted to help, and felt responsible for doing so.

Enalia gave Maica a quick kiss to her nose before grabbing a piece of bread and buttering it up. She also tossed a healthy coating of cheese on it before letting Maica scan it so she could have some as well. As they both munched on the garlic bread, they thought over the question.

"I don't think she has many friends." Maica munched and spoke, spraying a few holographic crumbs before covering her mouth. "This is simple, but so good."

“Warm bread warms the soul- not as effective as soup, but the old Earth phrase is that ‘man does not live on bread alone’, which implies at points in human history that they wish they did,” Rita commented. After all, she lived amongst aliens now, and her own culture was now exotic amongst the stars. If they were all going to share their culture with her, it behooved her to do the same. Slipping on her oven mitt again, she fetched the lasagna out of the over, then set it down on the cutting board to cool and set.

“Just five more minutes and it’ll set,” Rita reported, tossing the oven mitt on the small island counter where she kept the chopping block and from which she had been pulling the majority of her cooking tools. Bouncing into the dining room, she slid into an open chair with a wineglass in front of it, picked up her glass and smiled as she held it aloft.

“I’m a lot more comfortable on the Hera now, so I’ll do my best to try to help Akira do the same. Although I am not the best therapist in the universe, I have spent a LOT of time in therapy.” Paris giggled at that, then took a long draught off her wine, draining half of it at a go. “I don’t have many friends either, and I think I might have at least gotten that far with her.”

"Sometimes a good friend that's willing to listen is the best therapy out there," Enalia replied knowingly, letting her gaze fall back to Rita. "She may be photonic and composed of subroutines, but she's still a living, growing, sentient being full of young emotions. She just has different criteria for measuring her maturity and complexity."

“I didn’t… I mean, I don’t…” Paris stammered, missing the subtlety as she was immediately flustered. When she spoke, the words tumbled out, as they tended to do when Paris was nervous. “I think of her as a person, ma’am, just like all of our holographic crew. They’re just different than we flesh and blood-“ Paris paused, realizing she did not know that as a fact about the captain. “Well, than me at least, but that’s a good thing. Infinite diversity in infinite combinations. I didn’t mean to imply that she wasn’t… I mean, she’s, she’s a youth, still figuring everything out, no matter how complicated the story of how she came to be is. Her life and her feelings and experiences are just as valid as anyone's, ma’am. As an entity such as she is, she might well be immortal. Yet here we are at year one with her, helping her figure out who she wants to be as the galaxy throws crazy curveballs at her. That's brilliant."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. She's no different from you or me, she's just built a bit differently. At two months old, the AI metrics said she was mature enough to take on the role of department head. Her emotional and social development metrics..." Enalia waved her piece of garlic bread in the air. "That's where crew interaction comes in, and why I pressed for her to join my crew. So she could learn in real life what she'd never learn in the labs and smaller controlled environments and small ship they wanted to assign her to. The USS Merlin is a good ship... But there's only so much you can learn on a hospital ship with a tiny crew with your mothers hovering over you."

“Oh- I thought maybe I had said something to make you think that I thought lesser of her. I really have to stop jumping to negative conclusions...“ Paris’ eyes flickered nervously between Enalia and Maica, then she drowned the rest of her statement in the remainder of the glass of wine which she finished in a few long swallows. Putting the glass down on the table, Paris hopped up to scoot back into the kitchen again. “Okay, serving time… here’s hoping I haven’t forgotten how to do this.”

Slipping on the oven mitt, Paris fished out a spatula from one of the drawers of the kitchen island, then bore the steaming dish to the table. Cutting and serving the deliciously aromatic casserole as if she had done it a hundred times, in that moment the nervous and anxious Rita Paris somehow looked completely at home. At ease in a domestic setting, serving dinner. Which one would not expect from a woman whose life seemed consumed with her career in Starfleet.

"Are you sure you're a Starfleet officer and not a housewife?" Maica asked, noting the ease at which Rita slipped into the role. "Maybe we should introduce her to Captain Magnus..."

"No! Absolutely not!" Enalia was adamant about that point for some reason. "He may be a gentleman and a genius at running the Artan family without me, but he's a drunkard and a womanizer. Out of the question."

Maica pouted a bit as she scanned a serving and created a holographic copy for herself. "Aww... I've heard he's changed lately with all that responsibility though..."

"Whoah-ho-ho, ma'am's," Rita grimaced a bit as she shoveled out another serving of the fragrant meal of many blended flavors, that kind of smelled like a burning tire to her scrambled olfacory sense. "Don't go trying to matchmake me just yet. There is a very, VERY impressive gentleman out there who I assure you is tirelessly searching for me. I'm not counting out Sonak just yet. He's the last kolinahr- they have those here, too. A lot more of them, apparently, what with Vulcan still being in one piece. But where I come from Vulcan is dust and debris, and with it went all of the repositories of their greatest philosophies- save him."

Sliding into her seat, Rita picked up her fork and began to wag it like a conductor as she spoke. Apparently that much wine that fast on an empty stomach did things to a girl. "Tall, slender, athletic- maybe 8 percent body fat? Strong- I watched him very slowly bend steel bars in his bare hands. Part of it was this strength meditation thing he was doing, but still, very slowly and patiently? He. Bent. Steel." Crunchily plucking up a piece of bread with her fork, Rita wagged it about as she continued.

"Endurance. He could stay up and working without sleep for two months without it really affecting him. So, you know, it was basically til I cried uncle. He knew pressure points, and Vulcan massage techniques. On top of being very active telepathically, so he always knew how I felt, and could address it because he had no pride to wound, no ego to bruise, and he always, always made sense. When we'd do it, he could redirect my own orgasm back at me, f'rinstance... uhhn!" Curling up a bit in her chair, Rita's eyes squeezed shut as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Then it slowly dawned on her with whom she was having a conversation, and she opened her eyes and sat up straighter in her chair.

"Genius scientist with- I forget all of the specialty fields, but you get the idea. I'm not... I won't count him out. Your idea will let me give him a clue, Captain. He might just surprise us all after that." Rita hiccuped, covering her mouth in a charm school approved fashion. "I should eat, I think..."

Enalia and Maica giggled at each other knowingly as they dug into their lasagna. Maica was the one that spoke first though. "Yeah, there's nothing quite like a strong lover, whatever your preference. As for Vulcan massage techniques, if that's your preference, when you come in for a massage from me, I can do that if you like. Clothing optional, of course. Vulcan neuropressure can be rather intimate, but I'll leave the level up to you."

"I suggest you go for the full neuro-massage. Her fingers are freaking magic," Enalia blurted out around a bite of lasagna. "This is great. I mean, I can tell you replicated the ingredients, but the way you made it is amazing. We need to get you access to hydroponics."

“Is it? Good, I’m really glad!” Rita took a tentative small bite, made a face and swallowed with some difficulty. “I’d love to cook with fresh ingredients if we have them, but since this was spur of the moment, just making do. Tastes like burnt brussel sprouts to me, so I’m glad it tastes good to you. I used to make it all the time, so I was hoping the tried and true recipe wouldn’t let me down.” At that, Rita took another small bite, picking at her food not unlike she had when she had dined at the Captain’s table.

“As for that massage, frankly, I’d love one, ma’am. I’ve been so stressed since my ass dropped to the deck on this boat, and I don’t sleep well at night, and I’ve lost a little too much weight I think, because it’s affecting my workouts. Maybe if my chakras get realigned or something all of my food won’t taste like burnt garbage.” The buxom blonde of a bygone era took another small forkful of her food and did her best to swallow without chewing. “Naked is fine- I figure that’ll make you and the cap’n even and no fights over the view of the naked navigator’s altogether.” The casually-clad cosmonaut giggled at that, clearly a little drunk already.

Maica slapped Enalia on the shoulder and the captain raised a hand in defense. "Hey, I apologized and she accepted. The massage is between you and her now."

“All true ma’am, we talked it out and it’s all water under the bridge now. So please don’t abuse the captain, or I’ll have to stun you,” Rita joked, giggling a bit at the idea.

"Fair enough..." Maica wasn't entirely satisfied, but then another thought struck her. "Rita, hon... Has medical taken a look at why food tastes wrong to you? If not, would you let me?"

“I did have them do a workup on me after I’d been aboard for a day, but I haven’t gotten any test results back, so I’m not so sure how it went. But neuropressure and circulatory issues and so forth are definitely something that massage and pressure point manipulation can change, so yes ma’am, I’d be happy to let you do your thing. It’s one thing when I don’t eat because I am stressed, it’s another thing when I can’t because it tastes so awful.” Picking at her food, Paris frowned and pushed it aside after three small bites that were definitely not going to sustain her.

"In that case..." Maica got up and pulled a probe-like tricorder from seemingly nowhere. "Open wide for me and say ah." As soon as Rita opened her mouth, the photonic woman poked it almost to the back of her throat, scanning for several seconds with a frown.

"Hmmm... That's no good..." Maica pulled the tricorder out and processed the data, trying to come up with a way to solve her taste issues.

“Well, it can’t be my tonsils, they got dissolved years ago,” Rita wisecracked. “And my tongue is only good for trouble. Um, so what’s not good…?” she asked, trying and failing to hide the immediate anxiety the negative statement brought about.

"Your DNA is human... but not identical to that of this dimensions in the area of nutritional requirements. You're probably deficient in a couple areas. I'm reading low but human norm levels for B12, lithium, and zinc, but your cells seem to be starved for all of them. On top of that, stress can strain your taste." Heading to the replicator, Maica stared at it for a few seconds before it activated on its own and popped out a small glass with a swallow of a milky liquid.

Taking the glass, she brought it back over to Rita and handed it to her. "This should help, but it'll taste like shit. I'd also like to poke on you a bit with some neuropressure, if that's okay?"

“Everything does ma’am, so no worries.” At that Rita tossed down the shot, her face screwed up in a grimace, then she coughed. “Okay, I lied… that tasted extra extra bad,” the curvaceous cosmonaut croaked as she complained, sticking out her tongue and squinting with one eye.

"As for poking on me…” Rita looked to the captain for approval. Now that they were on much more steady ground between the two of them, she wasn’t about to misstep with the captain’s wife offering liberties that might cause friction. Rita Paris was, after all, an old-fashioned girl.

"She's the ship's masseuse and homeopathy specialist. Don't look at me." Enalia said shaking her head before downing another bite of lasagna.

“What, I’m just… unknown waters, ma’am. Always look to the captain for guidance, y’know?” Inhaling deeply then exhaling slowly, Rita looked over her shoulder at the green-skinned holographic alien entity she still didn’t quite understand. “Homeopathy, that's the word I was reaching for. Well, looks like we have a go for launch, ma’am. You may poke and prod when ready.”

"Then open your mouth, lean back, and relax." Without warning, Maica swatted down and cupped the back of Rita's head, her fingers splayed out to several pressure points while with her other hand, two fingers went into her mouth and under her tongue while her thumb went to the soft spot under her chin. Rhythmically, she massaged and pulled up on Rita's skull for over a minute.

“Glurk!” the surprised spacefarer expressed, as there wasn’t much else that she could say. As the pressure point physical therapist went to work, Rita tried not to focus on the fact that having someone else’s fingers in her mouth manipulating the soft tissues under her tongue felt terribly weird. Although she had to admit her background headache was subsiding a bit.

As Maica worked the back of Rita's skull, she kept a firm grip on her jaw as well, keeping her fingers on the neuropressure points there as she suddenly stood and contorted the displaced spacefarer's neck so that it popped first one way, then the other, likely causing a wave of blindness and disorientation as the blood in her head had no idea what the heck was going on. A few more moments of much more tender massage though and Maica finally let Rita go and stepped back.

Between the release of a significant portion of her sacrocranial tension and the supplement she’d taken at Maica’s direction, the combination had a significant calming effect on the neurotic navigator. As the talented hands finished their brief manipulation of her ailments, they withdrew their support, leaving the buxom blonde's head hung over the back of the chair. Rita Paris snored gently, lulled to sleep by the attention and her own exhaustion. However, her neck was uncomfortable, so she readjusted, causing her head slump forward, waking her up. Looking around, she blinked owlishly, clearly disoriented as she asked through half-lidded eyes, “Wha hoppen…?”

Enalia pointed at Rita with her fork. "I told you. Magic fingers." With that, she went back to eating.

Maica rubbed Rita's shoulder a bit and slid her plate back in front of her. "Here, try to eat a bit more, hon. You need the nourishment at the very least."

“Jeez, I thought you were bragging at least a little…” Rita muttered as the tense corded muscled of her shoulders started melting a bit. “Yes ma’am, I’ll give it the old Starfleet try.” Picking up her fork and scooping out a dainty bite, Rita hesitantly slid it into her mouth, only to form an expression of surprise. Rolling the food around in her mouth, she savored it a bit- it was the first meal that hadn’t tasted completely terrible since she’d gotten here. There was still a touch of that aluminum foil taste, but now that was a background flavor instead of the only thing she could taste.

“Hey, it worked!” Rita expressed in surprise before backpedaling a bit. “I mean, I know you know what you’re doing and all and I’m not casting aspersions on your skills, ma’am, but… wow.” The hungry helmsman took a proper forkful of the lasagna, slid it into her mouth then closed her eyes as she chewed, blissfully leaning back, a contented sound previously unheard on the Hera vibrating its way out of her.

"Excellent," Maica replied, heading back to her own lasagna. "The supplement in the replicator is Maica S32 when you need more of it. I suspect your tastebuds will let you know. When we get to the fortress, I'll give you the full hot springs treatment and get rid of the rest of that built up tension in you."

Enalia had to chime in at the mention of the hot springs. "The last time we were here I had them set for chocolate scented but I was thinking of switching them over to one of the mint scents. What do you two think?"

"Ooh, what about Bolian chocolate mint?" gushed the photonic babe.

“I’m partial to cinnamon and apples myself, but I’ve never scented a hot spring, so I’ll trust your judgment on that one, ma’am,” Rita offered between mouthfuls. “Pardon me if I make a pig of myself, but… thank you so much, Maica. I really needed that, and I genuinely appreciate you doing… whatever you did. I was trying to just deal with it, but this does make it a lot easier.” It was readily apparent to all involved that trying to deal with things internally was how Paris more often than not tried to deal with her problems, with the results speaking for themselves.

"You're very welcome, hon. If you need anything at all, please just let me know, ok?" Maica said with a big smile as she nibbled on her lasagna.

Enalia on the other hand, snapped her fingers with a flash of inspiration. "We have that drum of Risian cinnasilk. We could use that. Excellent idea. Thank you."

For her part, Paris nodded enthusiastically through a mouthful of food. As with so much of her life, she had been so focused on other elements- plotting her now aborted getaway, for instance- that she had been ignoring some of her most basic needs. Finishing off the small plate she had made for herself, Rita dug out another serving and dropped it on her plate. Looking around, she offered the others another serving in pantomime before half refilling her wineglass. Taking a sip, her eyes closed in bliss before she brought the wineglass back to her lips to drain it.

“Okay, that’s enough for me- I still have to dock a starship in another hour or two,” Rita snorted slightly. “But ohhhhh that’s good…”

"What? No dessert?" Enalia asked, scooching one of the sampler boxes of chocolates closer to Rita and pointing out the golden flaked one in the middle of the box. "At least try that one. They say it's orgasmic."

“Focwat?” Rita mumbled through a mouthful of lasagna, as she had completely forgotten about the variety of chocolates that the captain had brought to the table. While the first one she had tried had been awful, this time around she chose carefully, picking out a chocolate covered cherry. Swallowing the mouthful of pasta, the displaced damsel took a bite of the chocolate, angling the remains so as not to spill out the cherry syrup. But it was not meant to be, as once the first half was in the rest of the confection followed, and she chewed slowly, eyes closed, savoring the flavor while moaning slightly in a mild state of bliss.
When her eyes opened again, the ancient astronaut scanned the box again, seeking out the golden flaked chocolate in the middle of the box. Not bothering with bites, she just popped it in her mouth, then leaned back in her chair as she chewed slowly, sighs of satisfaction escaping her. “Mmmmm ff good…”

"Oh yeah... That's the look of satisfaction," the captain muttered as she finished her wine. Leaning back in her chair, she sighed. "I suppose I'll have to get ready to oversee the docking procedure now."

Holding her hand in front of her mouth as she spoke because she wasn’t finished chewing yet, Rita murmured around a mouthful of chocolate. “M’gonna bring her in ‘n Enfign Gonadie’d gonna fow me docking profedure. I hink she’s done it before…”

"Yeah, she has. There are six resupply umbilicals and three gangways we'll be lining up with, but the tractors should make most of it a breeze." Enalia stood and grabbed the still full overnight bag. "I'll be in your restroom for a few. Shouldn't be long."

Finishing swallowing the mouthful of chocolate, Rita sat back blissfully. “Thank you, ma’am. I have no idea what you did, but thanks… I really needed that. Sorry if I’m a little weird about… things,” Paris admitted, sitting back up and leaning on the table.

“The future is… this whole experience has been… a lot. And you probably aren’t exactly catching me at my best on top of all that… I’ve been stressed, I’m lonely, I’m…” Paris stopped short of saying ‘scared’, choosing instead, “a little nervous most of the time, and it’s not showing my best side, necessarily. But I’m learning, and the Captain offered me some help, so… I guess what I am saying is I’m sorry I am a little odd, Mrs.- ah, ma’am. It’s just a lot to take in all at once, you know?”

"Just Maica is fine," she replied, giggling softly as she pushed her now empty plate away. "I've gathered you've been stressed and not doing so well. 'Nalia's been worried about you more than she usually worries about people, so I knew something's been up. Even so, she's a normal person, and so am I. We all just have different resources, strengths, and weaknesses. You're a strong, intelligent, beautiful, young woman, and you've proven it. You just need more confidence in yourself. If there's anything I can do to help with the stress, just let me know. As for the loneliness... I do know a few holo-programs. But that's entirely up to you, I think."

“Old habits, ma’a- uh, Maica,” Paris course corrected. “You’re the captain’s wife, and I was a raised a bit old school, so it’s a habit. Sorry I’ve been worrying the captain- I didn’t realize that she knew what was going on, and that I was so freaked out. And… thank you. I’m still trying to get used to the idea that ‘normal people’ isn’t what it used to be back in my day,” the buxom blonde shrugged self-consciously.

“As for the rest, that’s all very kind of you to say, and I’m working on it, you know? But it isn’t… well, it is a little bit but… he was my rock, you know? I could be cool and collected all day, because at night I could just babble it all to him and he understood and didn’t judge, and he was smarter and wiser and he always knew the right thing to say, how to hold me, where to touch me...” Paris sighed heavily.

“I don’t know if it’s appropriate for me to say to a civilian, but Captain may have figured out how to let me get a message to him, and… no offense, but I really do hope he comes for me. I’m trying to adapt to life here, and getting used to all... well, so much of a different universe than the one I came from. If he doesn’t show up, then I’ll have no choice but to adapt, and I can, but… there’s a hole in me, you know? It’s a big hole, and it hurts a lot more than I know how to cope with.”

"That's perfectly understandable. I haven't been around very long, but I can understand that quite well. If something ever happened to 'Nalia... I'd probably permanently deactivate myself." Maica wistfully gazed off towards the restroom where the captain was getting ready before turning her attention back to Rita.

"But they say time heals all wounds or something, right? Plus hope springs eternal. As for coping, maybe try pretending your personal log is like a long distance letter to him for now. One of my sisters does that when her husband goes on trade missions without her and it kind of helps ease her mind a bit." Then she waved one hand in the air dismissively while rolling her eyes like it was going out of style. "Then she plows herself with some toy of the week for hours on end, so take that shit with a kilo of salt."

There was a moment of consideration of just how much to share with the green-skinned woman who was the 47th edition of her line, then the turn to crudity surprised her, and Paris blushed a bit. “I, ah, maybe I’ll give that a try, ma’am. Maica. Sorry. There’s... a little bit of him in my head. Mostly it stays quiet, he seems to just chime in when I think I don’t know something but I do, or the part of him in my head does at least. I’m worried if I start talking to it though I might go a little too crazy. That make sense?”

As she hadn’t actually eaten a good meal in quite some time, the lost navigator fished out a piece of bread and began tearing little pieces off it to nibble as they talked. It seemed with a return of food’s viability, she was going to have to watch how much she ate again. But for now she needed to soak up some wine anyway.

"I'm sorry, the only thing I know about... Katra? Is it? Is that it's some sort of mental energy or soul transferal that Vulcans can do. One thing I do know though, is that sometimes a little crazy can be a good thing." Picking up her wine glass, Maica tipped it towards Rita before downing the last of the wine in it.

That was when Enalia came out with her hair up and a fresh uniform on. Her makeup was even well done as if she was presenting herself to dignitaries. "Well? How do I look? Tribbles ate all my normal makeup so I had to replicate a kit I'm unfamiliar with."

"They ate the makeup too? That is so odd. I think we may have invented a new variant, Captain." Slowly Rita Paris rose from her seat, clasping her hands behind her back as she circled the Hera's commander. "You look beautiful, Captain Telvan. The very model of the bastion of matronly duty and honor. You do your crew proud, ma'am." Rita then flipped off a comical Benny Hill salute to break up the moment.

Posing with her left hand at the small of her back, her right at her sternum and at attention otherwise in a very formal manner, Enalia waved her right hand in a circular motion before letting it flow to the side as she gracefully bowed before Rita, her entire demeanor having shifted from Starfleet Captain to... Something else. "Thank you, my dear. Your compliments have been duly noted." Rising, she visibly relaxed and gave Rita her usual lopsided grin. "I'm just glad to give the crew a chance to visit the equivalent of a high society luxury resort, even if it's only for a week."

"For the record? Space station that the captain then refers to as her 'space fortress' which is a actually a high society luxury resort?" Paris snickered. "And you people wonder why I'm so lost in conversations so often. I look forward to it ma'am, please and thankya. Now, I need to get a shower and a uniform and report, so let's take this opportunity to get something out of the way."

At that, Rita hooked her thumbs in her waistband and slid out of her panties and leggings in a few fluid motions. As she stood back up, she reached over her back to grab the grey t-shirt and shrug it off with practiced ease. Grasping at the back of her black sports bra, she hooked it and slid it off as well, though with a bit more shimmying than the top had needed to be removed.

Naked, Paris struck a pose, coy and enticing, the bra dangling from her hooked finger. "There. Now no fights, you've both seen me naked." With a mischievous grin Paris pivoted on her heel and strode into the recently relinquished bathroom.

Standing, Maica sidled up to Enalia once Rita had headed off to get cleaned up. "Well, she's a bold one, isn't she? I like." Giving Enalia a quick kiss and a butt squeeze, she pushed the captain towards the door. "But you need to be on the bridge in a few. While she's cleaning up, I'll tidy up here then head to the forward docking hatch after to meet you.

Giving Maica a playful wink, Enalia couldn't help but admire her photonically buxom wife, pausing in the doorway just long enough to catch one last eyeful. They'd have to have some extra fun in the next week.

As she stepped into the sonic shower, Rita Paris took time to review her life of late. It looked almost like her perennial streak of bad luck might just be turning around.

Alienated and not making a lot of headway fitting into the crew, a come-on from the captain had combined with the fact that the woman had most definitely represented herself as something other than Starfleet, had all come together to end with Rita trying to figure out slingshot calculations and a ship to do it in. Which apparently she had chosen poorly, and the runabout she had planned to steal for the maneuver wouldn’t have survived the trip anyway. Most likely she would have been splattered on the windshield of the universe.

So, Rita was counting that one as a check in the win category.

The Captain had gotten the idea that her resident lost navigator was freaking out, and whether or not she knew the desperate measures Rita had been considering, she had sought her out and cleared the air. Which went a long ways toward easing the neurotic mind of the pretty pilot. Knowing that the ship and captain were full-fledged Starfleet helped, knowing the Captain realized that she’d backed Rita into a corner helped, and knowing that she recognized Rita’s contributions since coming aboard all worked together to alleviate the dread the all-too-human woman had been feeling.

There was the possibility that they would be able to send her communicator home, back to her own dimension and time, so that her ship and superiors would know what happened to the 2268 era Starfleet officer. To know not to grieve for her, because she was alive, if not completely well. A message in a bottle, it would give the Exeter time, space and chronal coordinates. While she knew the impracticality of the crew actually finding a way to rescue her, in her heart of hearts she could not stop hoping that somehow the somber Vulcan scientist would find a way. The odds were astronomically stacked against it, but her faith in the grey-eyed kolinahr was hard to shake.

For now, she was making strides. Her position on the Hera was secure- the Captain recognized that she was a gal who got things done, and that while she was struggling, Rita Paris would adapt, overcome and survive. It was obvious that the captain was attracted to her, which was an unusual predicament in which for Rita to find herself. Only because the starship captain was a lady- every starship captain she'd ever served under had warmed to her quickly, and that had turned to overtures. But the captain and her wife were nice, and Rita felt as though the captain would respect her boundaries now. Flirtation was something with which she was both familiar and comfortable, and she'd cheerfully flirt with the captain off duty. She herself had escalated that a bit, and the plucky explorer felt confident in her choice. Better to keep the captain and her wife from fighting, particularly over her. Not if she planned to make her home here on this starfaring palace of technological wonders.

If no one came to rescue her, Rita knew without a doubt that she would fall into a relationship quickly. Years in a deep and intense relationship with the last kolinahr had left her ill-equipped to be alone, and she knew with a certain fatality that she would find someone to fill the void of a warm body next to hers. Loneliness could literally kill her, separated as she was from the love of her life. Already she had made rash choices that demonstrated to her that she could ill afford to try to be stoic and stand alone. It simply wasn’t in her any more, if indeed it ever was.

But in the here and now, life was good. They’d be docking at the Space Fortress soon, and she’d be handling the docking procedures, overseen by her assistant chief who was gladly showing her the ropes. Mona Gonadie simply loved to fly, but the rest of the flight control chief’s job was nothing she wanted anything to do with. Since Rita now handled all of the paperwork, freeing Ensign Gonadie up with a wealth of free time, she had no compunction about tutoring her boss from a century ago on how to pilot the mighty hybrid vessel. Or any other vessel. The two of them weren’t quite friends yet, but Rita liked the colorfully-plumed avian alien aviatrix. They seemed to work well together, and she valued the young officer’s insight and input.

Life was better. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty good, and the future had actually started to look brighter to her. Rita was excited to see the pirate compound and she looked forward to the missions yet to come, the crisis that were yet to erupt. So far the crew had tried to kill her, then the ship itself had tried to kill her multiple times. Which meant that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Unlucky she might be, but things were turning around for Rita Paris.

Which was when she walked out of the shower to discover that the captain’s wife had stayed behind to clean up, causing Rita to duck back into the shower to find a towel to cover herself.

Life might be getting better, but Rita Paris remained predictably unlucky.

Danu had wasted no time getting Nexi's ship upgraded with a few 'godly' tweaks from Vulcan's forge and even a new power core from Nidavellir, the same dwarves that made all the weapons and tech for the Asgardians. It had cost her the last of her favors with them, but she counted it as worthwhile investment in this case. The only things now remaining were to talk the Elven forgemasters on her own world to craft nexi a new pike that could withstand her lightning, and get an implant for her.

Eir from Asgard had sent a care package with an implant so that shouldn't be an issue at least. She just had to get Nexi to... Swallow this... Golden egg? The instructions were unclear... Maybe it would make more sense to her. Either way, she'd have to see them off and give her this implant. Thus she faded from where she was in her gardens to inside the Wandering Star, as she was wont to do when no one was looking.

Without looking up from the crate she was digging around in, Aewia called out. "Nexi, Danu is here to see you about eggs!"

"Ah, yes, not about eggs specifically, but about an egg shaped implant that came for you." Danu explained, barely a step away from Nexi.

"Fucking hells, woman! Have you seriously never heard of knocking?!" Nexi said as she nearly jumped out of her own skin in surprise. Getting her racing heart under control, Nexi glanced at the small golden egg in Danu's hand. "Is that the implant thing you told me about? It'll let me draw power from the ship so I don't kill myself throwing lightening?" Nexi asked, then put away the inventory list she had been working on.

"Sorry... Anyway, I'll leave you to figure out the instructions. Eir didn't make them simple enough for me to understand." Danu handed the egg and a pamphlet over to Nexi before continuing. "As for the Fae, They should be expecting you, but they aren't always the friendliest at first so please bear with them."

Nexi took the pamphlet, but her expression soured when she realized she couldn't read it. "What the hell? I don't recognize any of these symbols," she remarked as she turned the pamphlet over in her hands in the hopes of finding something written in Ferengi or even Basic English. "Okay, so what am I supposed to do with this thing?" she asked, picking up the little egg to look at it with bemusement. The answer would become abundantly clear when the little egg started wiggling in her hand and then started to burrow into the flesh of her palm.

"THE FUCK!" Nexi exclaimed as she tried to pull the little egg out; it was odd, it felt like it should have hurt, but it didn't, even though she could feel it moving through her skin, leaving no trace of a scar or any blood behind. Then came the even stranger feeling as it moved up her arm, and Nexi looked aghast as she tried to grab it as though to stop it. Again, it didn't hurt even though she knew it should have, it was just really unsettling to feel it moving around in her. "Oh, this just feels wrong," Nexi said with a sick expression as she clutched her chest, now feeling the little egg moving to where it needed to be. "Your friend Eir has a fucked up sense of humor to do this to anyone," she stated bluntly, waiting for the egg to stop moving so she could finally breath again.

"Oooohhh.... That makes sense now..." was all Danu said as she watched Nexi squirming while the implant figured out it's optimum location. "I think once it's done, you need to sync it to your power supply." Taking back the pamphlet, she flipped through it. "Which I think means putting your hand on it? In it? Asgardian is such a pain..."

"Noted," Nexi replied with a wheeze, but at least she could breathe, sort of. "Aewia, move that crate so I can get to the power supply," she said, standing still for a moment longer; the egg wasn't moving, but it was still doing something, and it felt so bizarre! Once Aewia had moved the crate and opened the floor panel to reveal the new power source attached the Star's warp drive, Nexi knelt down to peer at it. It looked like pure light nestled against the warp drive, with a strange little egg creature with spider-like legs tending to it; when Aewia first saw the little guy, she had called it BOB, short for 'battery operated buddy', and it seemed to acknowledge this designation when it started working on Nexi's ship.

"Hey BOB," Nexi said, shooing the little guy away from the power source. So she had to put her hand in it? BOB seemed to be at least partially telepathically connect to Aewia and Nexi, and it understood what needed to be done, 'opening' the power source and causing more light to spill out. "Thanks, little guy," Nexi said, then with a deep breath she reached into the light.

It only took a moment and a flash as a crackle of energy seemed to connect and flow into Nexi from her ship. It wasn't much, but that was all it took as everything seemed to settle down.

"Cool..." Aewia whispered, peeking over Nexi's shoulder at what was going on.

"Well that was anti-climatic," Nexi remarked as she drew her hand back. "After what the egg-thing did to me, I expected something a bit more... flashy?" But she could feel it, the implant had stopped moving and there was this ever-present energy inside her waiting to be utilized. She watched BOB secure the power source, then Nexi closed up the floor panel so they could get underway. "Alright, kiddo, what's the verdict; are we ready to shove off?"

With a crisp salute, Aewia smiled with satisfaction. "Aye, Captain! We have all the ice cream and hot sauce we could dream of so we're ready!"

Nexi rolled her eyes. "Well at least you have your priorities squared away," she replied with a chuckle, reaching over to ruffle her sister's hair. Then she stood up to address Danu. "Well... Thanks for all the help, I guess? Um, we have the coordinates to the Tamahagane, we'll send word once we get there," she said to Danu. "And once we succeed, we'll be ready to accept our first task as your champions."

Danu placed a hand on Nexi's shoulder. "Thank you. It may be sooner than both of us expects though. The wind tells me that Hera is back as well and is starting to cause trouble for the children of Pan. Once I have more information, I may ask you to help them."

Turning and heading for the docking ramp, Danu headed out of the ship on foot for once. "But for now worry about the forges and your trip. There's plenty of time for your first quest later. Safe journeys, and may the wind be at your backs."

Nexi squared her shoulders and nodded to Danu. This was it, their course was set and there was no turning back! "Lock it down and get ready to depart; we're gonna go get ourselves some shiny weapons!" Nexi said to her sister with a grin, then headed for the cockpit to get this party started!

Pressing the ramp controls, Aewia smiled and waved to Danu as it closed. "We'll be back before you know it."


The flight from Danu's temple to the Fae temples in the south was a short one and thankfully they also had a landing pad set up for them. There was even a delegation of eight foot tall gold skinned beings that they had never seen waiting to greet them. They resembled elves from old mythology, but taller and more slender. They also lived in what appeared to be some sort of crazy mish-mash of stone and living tree architecture.

Nexi studied the people and their dwellings for a moment to help her get a sense of these people while she put her ship on standby; they were an interesting sort, and Danu said they could be a bit difficult to work with. So how to approach them? She could show respect, but they might think she was pandering, although she suspecting that being bold aggressive might be as equally off-putting to them; so, she would just be herself, whoever that was anymore...

As Nexi lowered the ramp, she made no attempt to hide the fact that she was armed; it seemed rude to hide her weaponry, so her daggers were on display, as were the two hand-cannons, the replica Desert Eagles she got from who-knows-where, and a pike with a plasma mono-filament blade edge was nestled in the small of her back, it's origin as equally blank to her. She popped the collar on her leather jacket and strode out to meet the tall golden individuals waiting for her.

"I'm here to discuss the acquisition of your tamahagane weaponry," she said simply to the entourage.

Aewia was similarly nonchalant about her interactions as she stood next to her sister and waved politely to the tall Fae.

The tall golden beings were a bit taken aback however, by the casual and honest nature of their guest. Their brows raised even higher as they glanced between each other before the leader bowed so he could offer a hand in greeting to Nexi. "Yes, we were told of your coming. Your ah... Open demeanor is refreshing, though your abundance of weaponry is slightly disturbing. Many of our kind are pacifists and regardless of your intentions, will judge you based on them alone. If your intentions are pure, however... I believe we may be able to work together..."

Nexi tilted her head in thought, then reached down to unbuckle some of her weapon holsters, hanging most of her daggers and one of her guns just inside the ramp bay. "Better?" she asked as she strode down the ramp to meet her guides.

Several of them nodded amongst themselves before the leader spoke again. "Yes, I believe as a Champion a few weapons would be expected. Besides, if we are to craft one for you, it would be best to have a preference of yours to work from. Shall we discuss terms and... Ahem... Attunement... With the tamahagane in question. It is no simple matter to craft anything from such a metal, but for a weapon... You understand if there are certain rituals and procedures that must be adhered to, yes?"

"I wouldn't expect you to cut corners on this weapon, so just tell me what you need from me," Nexi replied with a nod. "My sister and I will both cooperate for whatever you need us to do."

"If you will please follow us, we will take you to the shrine where the rw tamahagane is stored. If a pot resonates with you, then we are able to begin the process. If not, then you must leave." He was rather blunt, but there was no room in his words for misinterpretation. Turning almost as one, the delegation led the two into the city.

Amidst the brickwork and tree based structures, glowing yellow eyes could be seen peering out at the strangers. They passed several open shops but there seemed to be no shoppers and the shopkeepers stared with emotionless eyes as the strangers passed.

It wasn't long before they arrived at an overly ornate and well trimmed golden bricked version of the local structures that led underground. Their delegation bowed before entering and after a short flight of stairs down, stopped at a large set of doors. "Are you both prepared?" asked the leader of the delegation.

Nexi looked to her sister for mutual resolve before nodding to their guide. "We are prepared," Nexi said with confidence.

Turning back to the door, the leader unlatched it and pushed it open. What seemed to be a flood of dark energies rushed past them, then almost sucked them all in, closing the giant doors behind them. Arrayed around the cavern were hundreds of clay urns set into divots in the walls, each one sealed with ribbons and black ink and labelled in some indecipherable manner. The air was cold and a blue light filtered from somewhere up above.

"Welcome to the shrine of Tamahagane." said the leader of the Fae. "Now you must see if any of these pots resonate with you. After that, you and the forgemaster must purify it."

"I understand," Nexi replied with a nod, then looked to her sister, gesturing for her to start searching as well. Nexi wandered down into the dark, holding her hand out over the jars as she passed them by. She wasn't quite sure what she was looking for with this whole 'resonation' thing, and she ended up walking quite deep before something finally happened. A collection of jars began to rattle, shaking ever more violently as she grew closer, and when she found the one that was meant for her, the seal script began to glow. Pealing this seal away carefully, she opened the lid and there was the raw ore waiting to be put through the forge; it glowed a bright blue, and then oddity of oddities, her hands began to spark. Testing this reaction, she released a current into the ore and it hummed its approval.

"Found one!" Nexi called out to her guides as she replaced the lid on the urn with a grin.

One of the Fae quickly took it and replaced the seal, nodding his approval and whispering to her. "You should try to find one more, just in case."

Aewia, on the other hand, had wandered down another part of the shrine, her eyes wide as she looked around at all the clay urns. She saw them differently than the others as her mind had been so drastically damaged and changed. they all glowed differently and some of them even seemed to whisper to her.

She saw a set of them that stood out from the rest though. Even through the stone walls, she could see the glow and it spurred her forward, deeper into the shrine. Two of the delegation followed her to make sure she was safe until she ducked under a rope barrier made of vines and they gasped in protest. She didn't even notice as she waded through ankle deep water past some of the most vicious looking pots in the entire shrine towards the prettiest pink glowing pots in the whole place to her senses.

As soon as she touched the pots, she knew why they called to her. They could help ease her mind and soothe her. Popping each of them open, she smiled. She had found her tamahagane. Carrying them back to the rope barrier, she handed them to the Fae who were as pale as if they had seen a ghost. She was as innocent and sweet as ever though, her smile seemingly lighting up the darkest parts of the shrine.

As instructed, Nexi ventured deeper into the darkness, the blue light above dimming as a mist swirled around her and her guides. She could hear them shifting uncomfortably, but they did not bid her to stop, though the unease was growing within Nexi. Even still, she carried on until the lights were snuffed out completely.

You would think to purify the tamahagane?

The sound resonated all around them, causing Nexi and her guides to look around for the source of the sound, but the resulted in a menacing laugh to echo around them.

You who are so impure, untamed of herself, cannot hope to tame the souls trapped within!

"You don't know me!" Nexi dared to shout back in defiance, standing her ground even as her guides began to shrink back. "I may be lost, but I can still find my way!"

Again, the spirits of the tamahagane roared with laughter, and to cast doubt on Nexi, all the jars around them began to rattle as a glow seeped from under the lids, each trying to draw Nexi in.

Find your way now! came back their chilling taunt.

Rising to the challenge, Nexi began to glow blue as sparks arced off of her; she wasn't even going to tap into the power source on the ship, she would do this on her own strength! She released a burst of current from her body and into the jars, knocking the breath from herself and the fight from the rattling jars, leaving one jar still rattling.

"That is the one," Nexi gasped out, pointing out the right jar to the guides. Then she slumped to her knees, breathing hard to catch her breath.

As one of the Fae gathered up the jar, the other helped Nexi back to her feet so they could withdraw. "We must return to the light quickly," he whispered as he helped her back towards the large doors.

Soon they were there and joined by Aewia and the two that had followed her. They marked the jars with wax for each of them and placed them in satchels, then nodding to each other again, the leader once more threw the doors open, letting them out.

As the doors wooshed shut behind them, it seemed the world was once again a bright and cheerful place filled with sunshine and birds and golden leaves upon trees. Their task had yet only begun though. Turning to the two shorter aliens, the lead Fae bowed his head. "You have far exceeded my expectations. You have my apologies for doubting you. I just hope that your strength remains true throughout the purification rituals."

"Thanks?" Nexi replied simply, her capacity for a more lengthy response seemingly tapped out for the moment; perhaps she should have used her new power source for that burst in the shrine... "So what exactly is the next step?" she asked after summoning the energy for that much curiosity.

The tall Fae motioned towards one of the worn paths leading deeper into the city. "Next we proceed to the forges and begin the purification rituals and attunement. After that we may forge your weapons. But perhaps... refreshments first? Once we reach the forges, we will bring drinks."

Without waiting for a response, they set off, passing yet more of the complex tree and stone structures. With the delegation carrying what was obviously five urns of tamahagane, the citizenry looked on with either fear or awe at the pair of strangers. This was obviously not a common occurrence for them.

Aewia paid it no mind and even ooh'd and aah'd at much of the more ornate wares that they passed.

After a lengthy walk though, they finally arrived at a completely stone building filled with the smell of smoke and cinders and the sound of clanging. Entering a lean-to on the side, they stowed the urns and sat at a bench while one of their number ran to a nearby shop for refreshments. It wasn't long before he returned with what appeared to be bio-organic pouches of a honeyed liquid that he passed out to everyone, whom twisted off the stem at the top and drank through it like a straw.

"Oh! It's like a Capri Sun!" Aewia remarked as she did so as well, all but purring at the taste.

Nexi shook her head with a chuckle as she watched Aewia with her child-like innocence and the way she sipped her drink. Nexi took a pull from her own pouch and her eyes went wide; it was like all the fatigue she felt from the shrine had just been punched out of her!

"Wow, that has got a kick to it!" she said approvingly. "Anyway I could negotiate for a case of these to take back to my ship? Or maybe a replicator pattern if you're willing to part with it?"

The Fae chuckled softly like cymbals softly tinkling over water. "We grow them from the boughs of our trees. If you want to take some with you, you may, but we don't know what a replicate pattern is. We may be more advanced than you in many areas, but in many others, you would consider us primitive. For example, we use nanotech gene splicing as well as extraplanar //untranslatable gibberish// in everyday life for our crafting and agriculture, but your ship's engines are something that we abandoned almost a millenia ago now for a simpler way of life."

Nexi blinked in frustration as her translator threw out a slew of unintelligible gibberish for a moment, and she was forced to stick a finger in her ear to turn it off just to make the gibberish stop. And from the sound of things, it seemed like she was simply free to take some of the drink without compensation, and her Ferengi upbringing was itching to take advantage of this, but then something stopped her; maybe it was the influences of the friends she couldn't remember, or maybe there was something about her recent experiences that had changed her, but she knew shouldn't be taking advantage of these people.

"Well once we're done with the weapons, maybe we can discuss some trade options? Don't know if I got anything that you would value other than possibly my services, but I'm sure there's something we could arrange," Nexi replied smoothly, unable to suppress that much of her Ferengi upbringing.

The Fae nodded to each other before speaking again. "I will speak with a few of the shopkeepers and see if they will trade labor in exchange for goods. You surprise us again with your honesty and ethics. We agreed to the forge process for Danu's sake so you owe us nothing for that, but perhaps you are a paladin rather than a champion?"

That got an earnest chuckle from Nexi. "I don't know about all that," she said, rubbing the back of her head. "I don't remember much about who I used to be, and Danu gave me some information and I guess I didn't like this person I once was; memories or not, I know there's gonna be some habits that'll be hard to shake, but I'm tryin' my best to be a better me, and part of that is not treating you guys bad. Maybe you're doing this as a favor to Danu, but you didn't have to, and I don't wanna leave here with you guys thinking I'm a piece of shit or something..."

"You're leaving an impressive impression so far," one of the lower ranking delegation whispered, leaning in momentarily so he could be heard.

Clearing his throat, the leader bowed again. "Please excuse him. Our people are psychic between ourselves so speech is rare among us. I may be the only one left that actively trains to use it."

"If you're capable of using this form of communication with other species, my sister and I are telepathic, so if that's easier for you then we can give it a try," Nexi said, then finished off her juice pouch. She was definitely feeling a lot better, but this definitely served as a reminder that she needed more practice with this new level of her abilities.

"We may need to discuss that with the elders..." Then the leader tilted his head forward in a meaningful manner, sending a booming voice into Nexi's head. But we will first see how the forging proceeds.

I can hear you. You're a bit loud, but it's bearable, Nexi replied to confirm the test, then rose to her feet and pocketed her drink bag so she wasn't leaving it lying around, glancing at Aewia as she did so. "You ready to get going? Have any idea what kind of weapon your tamahagane will become?" she asked Aewia.

"It wants to be a rocket propelled sledgehammer!" Aewia exclaimed, throwing her fist in the air, her other hand still with the drink pouch. Finishing it off, she made sure she got every last drop left in it before poking it away in her pocket.

"Well I'm sure that ain't never been done before," Nexi said with amusement, and she couldn't deny that it did indeed sound interesting, even finding herself excited to see it come together and how Aewia would handle such a weapon. "Alright, we're ready to continue," Nexi said to the lead Fae. "By the way, you got names we can use?" she asked as they walked, then quickly offered, "I'm Nexi and my sister is Aewia, if you were at all curious."

The delegation blinked at each other for a few moments before the leader bowed out of respect. "My apologies. We do not have names like you would know. At best, we have titles for use around your kind. Hng... Mortals... I am Delegation Leader. These are the Delegation. Soon you will meet the Forge Master. Those under her are the Forge Maidens."

After a few more steps they arrived inside the actual forge where a deep golden woman was looking around forcefully, seemingly directing dozens of scantily clad and sweat covered Forge Maidens around the glowing mix of early blacksmithing and industrial era forge equipment. The sounds of hammering and smashing metal was much more pronounced now.

Suddenly one of the Forge Maidens raised a piece of white hot glowing metal above her head in a pair of tongs and a pair of giant hammers came smashing together, flattening the piece she was working on almost wafer thin in one seismic smash. She then returned to her work at another station as the Forge Master looked on satisfied.

At the approach of the delegation and their guests, the Forge Master turned to glower at the two strangers before inspecting the urns of tamahagane. Nodding, she looked over Nexi and Aewia one more time and waved to two of her Forge Maidens who handed off what they were doing to others and headed over to the delegation. These two are assigned to you. Now go away. With that, she returned to directing the rest of the bustling forge.

Nexi couldn't help but scoff at the rather brisk response, but the Master was already gone; now it was time to focus on the matter at hand, and Nexi looked at the Maidens. "We're in your hands, show us what we need to do," Nexi said simply, ready for this next step.

"Now we must leave you for a time," the leader said, bowing again politely. "You must purify the tamahagane with your assigned Forge Maiden alone inside a shrine. We know little of this other than that visions and temptations may haunt you. We trust that you will both stay strong in this though."

Nexi nodded. "Thanks for taking us this far," she said, then to the Maidens, "We're ready."

The two Forge Maidens bowed politely before taking the respective urns of tamahagane and leading each of the visitors away to what amounted to a small purification shrine. Alone inside the small forge was nothing more than a sand pit with an anvil in the middle, incense burners already burning, two benches across from each other, a fire pit on one side, a water pit on the other, and some basic smithing tools.

As the Forge Maiden motioned for Nexi to be seated at one bench, she sat at the other and set the first urn on the anvil, waiting for Nexi to indicate she was ready.

The smell of incense was overpowering, and it gave Nexi a rush to the head; she suspected that this sensation was the beginning of this purification. Taking a seat, she stared at the Maiden with a solemn resolve; no words were necessary, Nexi was ready to begin.

With her own resolve, the golden skinned Fae smashed the first urn and clamped some tongs to the raw tamahagane within before burying it in the coals. As soon as it had started glowing, she pulled it out and started working it with a hammer, starting the purification process and expelling the demonic energies. It was now up to Nexi.

Nexi wasn't certain what she was supposed to be doing, but for the moment, she watched as the Maiden hammered at the glowing metal. The more incense she breathed in, the more it felt like that each stroke of the hammer grew louder until she could feel it reverberating through her body, throughout her very being. It was a strange sensation, like the Maiden was forging her very soul, assuming she believed in that kind of thing. What did she believe in?

Suddenly, Nexi realized she must have been drifting off because her eyes were closed. Upon opening them, she noticed that the Maiden was absent and the Forge cold. Wary of this strange development, Nexi rose and stalked around cautiously as she searched for where her Maiden had gone; without realizing she had done it, Nexi drew her pike and snapped the staff out.

"Hello?" Nexi said in the hopes that someone was there who knew what was going on, but it seemed that no one, not even the other Forge Maidens or the Master, was present. This really put her on edge and she gripped the staff of her pike tightly.

"Do you really think you're going to hurt anyone with that useless stick?" came a voice from behind her. Nexi spun around, only to come face to face with the Master, but not the Forge Master, rather the bastard that had infected her sister's mind and body. Seeing Aewia's face, yet not Aewia's face, was so completely unnerving, and she now understood, at least partially, why she had tried to attack her own sister when they had first awoken after their healing.

"You!" Nexi said with a scowl as she leveled her pike at the Master. "How are you here? We defeated you! Didn't we?" she said in a desperate tone.

"Maybe in body, but my work is far from done," the Master replied with a thick laugh.

"I'm not letting you hurt anyone else!" Nexi said as she launched herself at the Master, only for her attack to fall through him, sending her tumbling to the floor. "What the hell?" Nexi said as she scrambled to her feet, utterly confused. "You're not really here?" she observed as they continued to stare each other down. Nexi's hands began to shake as true fear began to take hold.

"I'm here," the Master replied, stepping closer, but s/he made no attempt to raise a hand in aggression to Nexi, which somehow made the Master's presence all the more unsettling to her. "I may just be a ghost of a memory, but I am here, and I have no intentions of going anywhere."

"What do you want from me?" Nexi demanded with a growl in her throat. "You've already taken so much, what more could you want?!" The Black Blood has resurrected the madness that danced at the edge of Nexi's awareness, it had driven her to the brink and stolen her memories and her very identity; Nexi had nothing left to give!

"Nothing left to give?" The Master echoed from her very thoughts. "Oh, I intent to take so much more," s/he said as s/he outstretched hir hand. Nexi tried to raise her pike to defend herself, only to find that her hands were empty, and looking around she could see that she was surrounded by a viscous darkness. Her feet were already entrenched, and no amount of struggling could free them.

"First, I will take your sleep," the Master said as s/he drew closer to Nexi, the black pool rising to consume the terrified Brekkian. "Then, I'll take your smile. I won't let you feel safe with anyone, so I'll take your sister, because I will transform you so that your sister won't recognize you anymore."

"You can't!" Nexi said desperately, struggling against the tar-like substance that had now engulfed her up to her neck, and it seemed like the more she struggled, the faster she was drawn into the abyss. "I won't let you," she added with defiance.

"You already are," the Master pointed out. "Think about the way you attacked your sister, your own flesh and blood, and the rage and madness that consumed you; you've pushed that down, but it's still there waiting for you to let your guard down. You will try to resist, but I will be there, watching as you burn yourself from the inside out, or you will give in and wither and fade over the corpse of your sister. Either way, I win."

Nexi was all but consumed by the darkness swirling around her, her face barely visible through it; but she was still there, and she was not giving in.

"No," she said with a tremor in her voice.

"No?" The Master repeated, curious to this response.

"No," Nexi said softly; What the Master had said may have been true, but it wasn't the only truth, and Nexi realized that she couldn't do it on her own anymore, she had to rely on others around to help her, she had to trust more, and that started with Aewia. "Just... no," she said once more to the Master.

The darkness swirled around her violently and she squeezed her eyes shut, but when she opened them again, she was once again seated in the shrine with her Forge Maiden hammering away. Nexi was breathing heavily as her eyes fell upon the Maiden and the tamahagane on the anvil; that had been one hell of a rush, and something she never wanted to do again, EVER!

The Forge Maiden nodded as she set the first now purified tamahagane ingot aside and set the second urn on the anvil. Without hesitating, she unsealed it, shattered the urn, and began the purification process for it as well.

Fuck, she had to do this again?! Nexi felt like she had survived through a meat grinder! No wonder the Fae were concerned, this purification thing was no joke! Nexi tried to relax, to let the incense do it's thing again, she even tried to close her eyes to help things along, but nothing happened. It was actually starting to worry her. So after a while, she simply watched the Maiden hammer away at the tamahagane, watching it glow and change shape. A while later and still nothing happened, and she was beginning to wonder if something was wrong, like she had missed a step or maybe she failed her last one?

Nexi was just about to give up hope when someone came up behind the Forge Maiden and slit her throat before Nexi had a chance to react. Even dripping with Black Blood, Nexi could recognize that face as her own. Then the apparition launched herself at Nexi.

"Okay, we're doing this!" Nexi blurted out as she tumbled out of the way. Black Blood Nexi gave her very little time to react as she unleashed an onslaught of fierce attacks; those movements were impossibly fast, Nexi had no hope of keeping up! She tried to draw her gun, but her doppelganger easily swatted it from her hand, same with the knife, and when Nexi went for her pike, the Black Blood apparition went for the tackle, knocking Nexi to the ground and began choking the life from her. Then something very strange happened; suddenly Nexi was the one covered in Black Blood and strangling a normal looking duplicate. No! No, this was so wrong!

As the life faded from the duplicate, Nexi was plunged into darkness. In that darkness, Nexi could see herself as a child standing at her dying mother's bedside as a giant-eared troll took her away; it was a memory she couldn't remember, but she still knew this had happened, that this was one of the defining events in her life that brought her to where she was today. She saw her treatment in Grek's service, watched as the light faded from her young eyes, but neither the Young Nexi or the Nexi watching everything unfold could do anything to stop it. She watched as Merrit took advantage of her even as he stoked the fires within her and taught her to be a mercenary, saw the purchase and repair of the Wandering Star, and she saw the bitter loneliness that her life had left her with. But then she saw the Hera and her sister, and all the people who had come into her life, and how she had changed for the better because of them.

And then she saw a dog; actually, there was a pair of them!

"Hey, I remember you two," Nexi said as she knelt before the two hellhounds approaching her, giving them both an affectionate pat. Somehow, she could still feel them inside her, like maybe... "You're still with me, aren't you?" she asked her horrifying companions. The hellhounds had not been a direct side-effect of the Black Blood, but rather whatever the Master had taken from the other dimension where Demon-Enalia had originated, modifying this aspect into Black Blood, which was passed on to Nexi, and though the Black Blood had been cured, this element remained in Nexi.

"Is it weird that I actually miss you guys?" Nexi asked her companions, giving them another rub. "But I don't know how to 'call' you again, I don't think I can anymore." It was then that she realized that this was what the vision was warning her about; there may come a day when she could summon her beasts again, but to do so would court mayhem as this demonic essence could overwhelm her.

"I get it, I get it," Nexi said as she hugged Mister Pickles, all while Sunny tried to nose his way into the hug like the doofus he was, causing Nexi to chuckle. "But don't worry, I still feel you, and if I am strong enough to bring you back out without tempting fate, then I will. Until then, you guys gotta stay put. Got it?"

Nexi's hellhounds nodded, then disappeared, but Nexi was still stuck in the darkness.

"Okay, I get it, I can't dwell on the past or fight it; what's done is done, all I can do now is move forward," she said into nothingness. Then Nexi saw herself once again, an adult, but not from a recent point in her life.

"Can you really do it?" her facsimile asked. "Can you let the past go and move forward?"

"I can try," Nexi answered honestly, knowing it wasn't as simple as letting it go with one simple statement, that this task would be a long hard road, maybe even a constant companion. "And I know I won't be alone if I slip up."

Once again, the darkness faded and she was again sitting on the bench in the shrine with the Forge Maiden still hammering away. Only this time, Nexi felt so fatigued, more than she had ever felt before in her life, and that was saying something considering how many times she had been near death! She gripped the edge of her bench tightly with her arms locked, forcing herself to remain upright until the Maiden was complete with her task.

With one last whack of the hammer, the Forge Maiden was done and she looked up at Nexi. Nodding, she dunked the second folded ingot of tamahagane into the water and let it finish cooling before setting it back on the anvil. She then collected up the other folded ingot and handed both of them to Nexi. Now we forge your weapon. What do you want?

Nexi's hands shook as she held the ingots, then she transferred them to a single hand so she could reach behind her to draw her pike. She barely had the strength in her arm to snap the staff open, but it extended to its full length and she showed it to the Maiden.

Something like this, but I will leave the particulars of the design in the hands of the Forge.

Nexi wondered if they were going straight to the Forge to get started or if she would have a chance to rest before continuing, because she didn't know if she would survive anymore visions.

The Forge Maiden took the pike and looked it over carefully, going over the actuation several times before returning it back to Nexi. Nodding, she reached out and physically picked up Nexi like a baby, cradling her in her arms. You are weak. I will carry you. With that, she unsealed the door and headed out.

As they passed the purification forge where Aewia was, muffled blood curdling screams could barely be heard. She is doing well. You must rest. Without stopping, the Forge Maiden headed to what appeared to be some sort of rest area where Nexi was laid on a bed of straw and leaves, handed another of the juice pods and motioned to drink. Once you have your strength we will work the hammers.

Nexi was far too tired to complain about being carried as she was, and she relaxed back onto the straw and sipped at her drink when bidden to do so; the juice was helping immensely, but she suspected that once this was all done she was going to sleep for like a week. She knew she could probably tap into the power source on her ship, but her use of that was untested, and she didn't want to feel like she had cheated to get this weapon. Well, at least she knew the Forging was unlikely to kill her given her new regenerative capabilities, so there was some comfort in that.

Nexi finished off her juice and pocketed the empty pouch. She glanced around to see if her Maiden was still there; Nexi could still hear the faint screams from Aewia's purification forge, and she was curious as to what was going on over there. With a grin, she closed her eyes and reached out her mind to see if she could catch a glimpse of what Aewia was going through.

And catch a glimpse she did. It was a crazy mixed up conglomeration of one Aewia playing whack-a-mole with laughing clown demons like some demented joker and another hugging alabaster pillars of herself so hard they shatter while she cried and a third version of herself bleeding black from every orifice while screaming at the top of her lungs.

The Forge Maiden then thumped Nexi on the forehead, breaking her connection. That is not for you to see. Rest now.

Nexi snickered as she rubbed her forehead. "Yeah, but it was nothing less than I expected from her. Honestly, I kinda feel sorry for her demons, because that girl is weird," she said with an affectionate grin.

The Forge Maiden frowned and leaned in closer to Nexi, studying her closely. Both strange. Few find one, let alone more. Fewer survive a week of purification. Easy part is forging. Very strange mortals.

"A week?!" Nexi exclaimed with surprise. "Damn, I was told this process was exhausting, but... It sure didn't feel like a week in those visions..." Nexi thought about it for a moment, going through everything she had seen, and it definitely didn't feel like a week had passed. But that did explain why she felt so tired. "Also, me and Aewia ain't exactly 'mortals' no more," she pointed out with a grin, then closed her eyes to rest.

Mortal enough. The Forge Maiden shuffled around and sat down as well, sipping from her own juice pouch and resting. Delegation confirms you as Champion. You have strength and gifts. I see them with eyes open. I will forge a mighty weapon for you but you will temper it with your power. We are of one mind of this, yes?

Temper it? How? Nexi asked as she started to drift off towards sleep. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she suspected she would discover what the Maiden meant once they got working, just as she had done so far. Nexi wouldn't get to sleep for long because they really couldn't afford to lose too much momentum in between steps, but a short power nap was just what Nexi needed.

The Forge Maiden tried to send a complex series of thoughts and imagery to Nexi, but gave it up when she saw that her charge was falling asleep. You will soon see.

After a few hours the other Forge Maiden came in carrying Aewia and laid her down to rest as well. She barely got her juice pod in her before she passed out from exhaustion. The two Maidens nodded to each other and Nexi's stood and moved to awaken her, gently shaking her. It is time.

Nexi awoke with out much fuss; in the back of her mind she had expected that she would not have long to rest, so with a yawn and a stretch, she pulled herself back to her feet to follow the Maiden; she still felt bone tired, but she was ready to get this done!

As they left the rest area, they headed past the purification shrines again and headed deeper into the forges. The air grew hot and thick. Soon they came out into a similar setup to what was upstairs, but much finer and intricate than anything the others were using. Everything looked brand new and higher tech and made of some silvered metal that almost glowed with an inner light. Motioning to one of the nearest anvils, the Forge Maiden picked up a pair of tongs and a hammer and waited for Nexi to place both pieces of tamahagane on the anvil.

Nexi set her purified tamahagane on the anvil and watched as the Maiden placed them into the Forge. "You said that I will need to temper them with my power?" Nexi asked as they waited for the ingots to be red hot.

As the Forge Maiden rolled the tamahagane in the Forge, she sent the concept thoughts to Nexi again, trying to explain it like it's explained to every Forge Maiden. She wasn't sure it would be understood though so she tried breaking it down and explaining it simply. Before the big smash, use your power. You will know when."

Nexi nodded and watched the Maiden work. "Big smash? Okay..." She recalled that when they came in, they saw a pair of hammers smash together to form the metal, so she wondered if this is what the Maiden meant, and what, if any, cues Nexi would get when this was ready to happen. Erring on the side of caution even though it might fatigue her further, sparks began to form around Nexi as she drew on her power so that she was ready whenever this happened.

As the Forge Maiden hammered away for some time, it almost became repetitious until finally she thrust the now fused pieces of tamahagane into water and held them over her head. Nodding to Nexi, she slammed her foot on a hidden switch in the floor, causing the two giant hammers above them to begin their journey towards the comparatively tiny piece of tamahagane.

Nexi saw the nod and drew on her power until there was a furious storm of blue lightning in her hands. Then she saw the hammers moving as if in slow motion, and she channeled this storm into the tamahagane. When the hammers struck, there was an explosion of blue sparks showering over them; it was actually quite the sight to see!

The Forge Maiden smiled for the first time as she set herself back to the anvil, hammering the now paper thin tamahagane a bit more and shifting her hold with the tongs as the giant hammers reset. After a bit more she raised the tamahagane over her head again and nodded to Nexi, triggering the hammers again.

Nexi breathed hard as she built up her power again; she didn't know how many times she was going to have to do this, so she was going to have to pace herself, meaning that when the hammers struck, the explosive display was not nearly as impressive as the first, but it had been executed with better aim and control.

This time when the Forge Maiden brought the tamahagane down, it was a rather large, flat plate that had a blue sheen to it. She then began hammering it on the edge of the anvil, folding it so she had a perfect edge. Once she had that, she did that again for each of the edges. Before long she had a perfect square and rather than holding it above her head, tossed it into the air with a fast spin, her eyes locked on Nexi's. She then released the hammers once more.

Nexi was sweating with exertion as she released another torrent of energy into the tamahagane, and she began to worry since this piece of metal wasn't looking like it was any closer to being a weapon, but she chose to trust that the Maiden knew what she was doing.

With that shower of sparks and lightning, the square of tamahgane was now wafer thin and harder than any mortal metal. Catching it with the tongs, the Forge Maiden inspected it with a critical eye, tapping it carefully in several places before nodding and moving to another station.

Waving to Nexi and motioning for her to sit across from her on the other side of some sort of cutting, shaping, and welding apparatus, the Forge Maiden sat down on her side and donned a pair of protective glasses before laying the metal into the machine. She then started manually calibrating the cutters to start forming the first of the collapsable sections.

Nexi found a pair of safety glasses for herself and put them on; this part of of the process, she felt like she understood! She didn't remember working at her workbench, but she knew she had one on the Wandering Star and assisting the Maiden felt very familiar.

How she was able to calculate the circumference needed for each of the collapsible sections, along with create the inner workings of the mechanism slowly became clear over the next several hours as she used the single machine to craft four tubes that somehow fit inside each other, yet when snapped open, seamlessly became one solid piece almost as tall as Nexi herself. Yet having only used half of the tamahagane, she was able to do this and create a comfortable grip on the outermost piece that felt almost warm to the touch.

Finally satisfied with her work, the Forge Maiden nodded and handed it to Nexi for her inspection.

Nexi didn't know how the Maiden had accomplished this, but the staff looked utterly seamless! And along the staff, the Maiden had sanded in a texture that Nexi swore felt like leather wrapping to improve the grip! This is amazing," Nexi said approvingly. "It feels really good in my hands," she added with a nod.

With another smile and nod, the Forge Maiden took off her eye protection, grabbed the rest of the tamahagane sheet, and headed to the next station in the line. Next is the head and foot.

As they sat down at a smaller machining station, there was a sudden flash and the loud crash of the giant ceiling hammers. The sudden disturbance didn't even phase the Forge Maiden, but she studied Nexi to make sure she was ok.

The suddenness of it did make Nexi flinch, but she grinned with ease as she joined the Maiden at this new machining station. "Do I need to temper this one as well?"

The Forge Maiden just nodded as she put on another pair of safety glasses and set to work, cutting first a set of pike blades from the tamahagane. After the formed the edges of the first blade, she handed it off to Nexi, using a second one to pantomime running her fingers near the blade to temper it. Now you must temper the blade.

Nexi wasn't entirely certain what the Maiden wanted her to do, but she watched the pantomime motion, then did the motion herself, apply a hint of blue current to it. Seeing the Maiden nod, she continued doing this, over and over until she entered a trance-like state.

While Nexi was doing that, the Forge Maiden got to work on the second, larger blade. By the time she was done, Nexi was almost done herself, though she probably didn't know it. She let Nexi finish up before tapping her hand and having her swap out the blades and continue. She then got to work on the central spike and mount for the blades while keeping an eye on Nexi to make sure she would be ok. This part of the work was the most critical and if Nexi wavered they would have to start over.

Nexi was definitely straining, it was getting harder and harder to generate a current without giving in to the temptation to use outside power, but she remained resolute to see this to completion. By the time the Maiden took this piece from her, her hands were shaking again. "Are we almost done?" Nexi asked wearily.

The Forge Maiden nodded without looking up from her work. You are. Last to temper. The Tamahagane was almost used up, but there was just enough for the central spike and a counterweight at the foot and she was already focused on the spike.

Nexi was beyond conscious thought as she took this last piece and began tempering it as she had done the other pieces. She had no idea what she was drawing on to be able to continue like this, but there was no stopping her at this point.

As they both worked, the Forge Maiden kept an eye on Nexi to make sure she didn't overextend herself too far. She didn't skimp on the details of the final pieces though. By the time she was finished with the central spike and had the initial shape of the foot, she saw that Nexi was both finished and at her limit so she tapped her hand and carefully removed the blade from her grip.

Setting the blade aside for now, she pulled a juice pouch from a pocket and handed it to Nexi. Rest. Drink. Watch.

As Nexi shakily drank from the pouch, the Forge Maiden skillfully set the blades and erased the seams. She then set the finished head aside and finished her work on the foot and counterbalance to the whole weapon, inlaying an ornate pattern of vine and stone work into it as she went. This used the last of the tamahagane and though it was blunt, was still pointey enough to do some damage if used as a weapon.

Looking over the three individual pieces, she nodded in satisfaction. It was time to assemble the weapon.

She gathered the pieces and moved them one by one to the next station where she first sealed the counterweight to the pole with a nano-welding torch, easily erasing the seam as Nexi watched. She then repeated the process with the head, paying special care to the alignment of the patterns to make sure there weren't even the slightest of imperfections in the details.

Once that was done, she took the assembled weapon to yet another station and waved Nexi over, having her once again sit across from her. There the Forge Maiden began the process of detailing. All of the fine details that she had inlaid into the tamahagane already was now being blued and burnished using some form of hand done anodization. From tip to tip, she detailed every micrometer of it, excluding the blade edges themselves, which had been tempered to nearly a monofilament edge by Nexi herself.

After several hours of this, the Forge Maiden finally leaned back, put the last tool aside, and let out a sigh - the first verbalization Nexi had heard from her. It is complete.

Standing, the Forge Maiden took the weapon and moved towards a rack of seemingly out of place steel rods. With a flick of her wrist, she sliced through several of them with ease. She then turned back to Nexi, collapsed the pike, which somehow collapsed the blades together as well so they wouldn't cut anything, and offered it to the exhausted woman.

Even after drinking her juice, Nexi felt ready to fall over, but she accepted the collapsed weapon and studied it carefully; it was unlike any pike she had ever wielded before, but it was stunning in the uniqueness of its design, and the way it could cut was impressive as well! And there was something else about this weapon she couldn't quite put her finger on, like an energy radiating from the edges...

Nexi was sure she would learn what this special something was in all due time, but for now she was exhausted and she needed to sleep, and then probably a good meal... She held the weapon out in front of her and dipped her head in a slight bow to the Forge Maiden.

Thank you

With a smile, the Forge Maiden picked Nexi up and carried her from the Forge to a recovery room with soft beds of leaves and cotton and a freshwater spring. Now rest. The other will be finished soon as well. When you wake you decide your next path.

Nexi didn't have to be told twice; within seconds of her head hitting the bed, she was fast asleep.

Daytona strode purposefully through Artan Fortress towards the Holography Lab, carrying the cube containing the matrices of his lover Akira and Silurian Number Four, a background character from an interactive holonovel that had tried to take over Akira when the Hera was trapped within a dark matter storm. Daytona had hardly let the cube out of his sight since he'd convinced the Silurian to allow Akira to enter the cube in the first place. He'd hooked it up to the independent computer in Akira's quarters so it would the holographic cube would continue to exist even if the main computer went down and spent every moment he could in her quarters guarding the cube and its precious cargo. Now, however, he was bringing it to Master Chief Technician Andrea Carter, Akira's Human mother and the only expert he trusted to safely separate Akira and Silurian Number Four. Daytona arrived at the Holography Lab, took a deep breath, and entered.

"Chief Carter, Captain Maica," he said, solemnly. "It is good to finally meet you, though I wish the circumstances were different."

Daytona held out the cube.

"I've kept this safe from the moment she entered it," he said. "Please get her out this thing in one piece."

"Yeah, we woulda preferred something happier too," Andy replied as she took the cube. She rolled the box over a few times in her fingers to examine it before frowning. "This is a holographic construction," she stated seriously. "I've never seen anything like this! This is self-sustaining holograph; it's amazing, who did this?" the ex-Borg woman asked Daytona.

"A hologram calling itself 'the Doctor', from some holovid or holonovel," Daytona said. "He was a little strange. Lieutenant Vaemyn helped...I think...I was a little preoccupied with wanting them to hurry up so I could help your daughter. We were caught in a dark matter storm. The computer went bat shit bananas and began projecting holoscenarios all over the ship using the holoemitters on every deck. Akira's program got corrupted by a hologram calling itself Random Silurian Number Four. Apparently it was a background character from the same holonovel or vid or whatever that the Doctor was from. Once it...she corrupted Akira's matrix, the Silurian didn't want to let Akira go, because she was afraid of going back to being 'a nobody' as she put it. I was able to convince her to at least let Akira have enough control to enter the cube so we could contain them both until you could solve the problem. To do so, however, I had to promise that we'd do something for the Silurian, something that would give her more of a life, make her more of a 'somebody'."

"I suspect that once we separate them, this... 'Silurian'? Uh, I don't think she'll be suffering from an existential crisis once she's no longer in contact with Akira's soul, but... I think I can make good on your promise. Although I'll need this 'Doctor' fellow to open the box. Shouldn't be a problem transferring his program to the holography lab," Andy said with an approving nod. Then she looked to Daytona. "You did alright bringing her back to us, even if she's in a box."

Andy took the box over to the one of the holography stations and set the cube on one of the analysis grids, then accessed the Hera's holodecks to retrieve the necessary program.

Daytona tried his best to stay out of the way, but he was irrationally hesitant to let the cube out of his sight. Rationally he knew the Akira was in the best hands she could be in, but every cell in his body, every atom of his being wanted to keep her safe from harm.

Captain Maica looked on worriedly as well before turning her attention back to Daytona, a hint of a grin on her face. Wrapping one arm around his waist and hugging him sideways, she pulled him in close. "So you're the one that's been boning our daughter. I hear you've been taking excellent care of her. By the way, I'm your future mother-in-law, Maica. It's a pleasure finally meeting you."

Daytona grinned despite himself.

"I'd like to think she keeps me around for more than just my sexual talents," Daytona said. "But I'm glad she feels well taken care of. I enjoy taking care of her, both in and out of the bedroom. It's a pleasure to meet you, too."

Daytona let the 'future mother-in-law' comment go by the by. He and Akira definitely talked about the future and what it might hold for them, but they hadn't taken that step yet.

It was then, during the bawdy introductions between the moms and their daughter’s lover, that an oddly dressed man appeared in the lab, obviously startled at his sudden appearance. The man’s brown jacket, pink shirt and bow tie were classic 20th century attire, although the pink flowery sunglasses were a bizarre addition.

“Oh. Hello,” the Doctor said awkwardly. “You rang?”

Releasing Daytona, Maica turned to greet the Doctor, reverting to being a Captain and taking charge. "Ah, Doctor! I didn't expect to meet you in this universe outside of an early Earth video program. As clever as Andy, Akira's mother and my wife, is... We need you to explain this cube and open it up, it seems." If this holographic version of the Doctor was anything like the old videos she'd seen, inferring that he was the cleverest person in the room would go a long way. Something she hoped would help them get Akira out of there safely. "After that, perhaps you wouldn't mind working with us a bit?"

Andy sat back in a chair as she looked this strange fellow over with her odd-eyes gaze, scanning him with her eyepiece. "So far our technology hasn't been capable of creating self-sustaining holograms, but this box of yours is so damned close, it's impressive! Since I've never worked with anything quite like this, I didn't want to risk damaging the occupants, so your assistance was necessary," the ginger-haired ex-Borg said, less focus on flattery and more on getting to the point so they could get to work.

Nevertheless, while flattery wasn’t intended, it was certainly received as the Doctor smiled smugly. “Well, yes, thank you,” he replied to the cyborg, smiling at the other green-skinned lady and finally at Daytona. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, he jumped over to the cube where it sat on analysis grid. “I adapted the cube as a digital high-density program cage using a Gallifreyan message cube as a template, mixed in with the same programming stuff that I’m made of. It’s all a bit makeshift, really, but it should be fine. Now, because Akira and her roommate entered the cube voluntarily, you’ll need to shoot digital thoughts at the cube that will encourage them to come out. For the Silurian, that’s easy; just show her dinosaurs and she’ll be out of there in no time. For Akira, though, it may be a little bit trickier.”

"Galla-what-ian?" Andy replied bluntly. "Not familiar with whatever that is; must be something unique to your holonovel's lore," she mused aloud as she thought about what message to send to them. "So why not just tell them it's safe to come out? Akira should recognize the way I code, so she should know I'm here to take care of her," she said as she started constructing her message. She sent it to the cube and waited to see if anything would happen.

"So Doctor, given the complexity of your construction, I'm guessing you're the focal point of this holonovel," Andy said while they waited; it made sense, the program was called 'Doctor Who' after all. "Anyway, to gain her cooperation, Daytona made a promise to the character mashed up with my daughter, that she wouldn't go back to being a 'nobody' once separated from Akira. Are you alright with me borrowing some of your subroutines that allow you to be self-aware and modify your holonovel so she has a more prominent part in it?"

The Doctor clapped his hands in enthusiasm. “Oh yes, not a problem, so long as you give me my subroutines back afterwards. There’s always room in the TARDIS.”

"Right then," Andy replied and got to work at the station and accessed the Doctor's portion of the program.

"Oooh, that's all kinds of tingly," the Doctor said with amusement as a shiver ran down his spine.

"Heh, sorry about that, a bit unavoidable," Andy apologized with a grin. She accessed the sub-routines for his self-awareness and a few other useful bits of code, then she made a copy on her station; she could have easily written her own subroutines for this, but it would take much longer and there was the possibility the Silurian character would reject it. After a while of modifying this subroutine, Andy leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"Alright, don't look like the girls are coming out anytime soon," Andy observed. "Daytona, think maybe you could give it a try? Akira could be too scared to come out without some assurances."

"Of course," Daytona said. He raised his arm in in front of him so he could access his wrist device and started typing. He'd found that he could use the device to communicate directly with the cube and had spent quite some time talking with Akira, also sometimes with Silurian Number Four.

Akira, it's me, Daytona. We're at Artan Fortress. Your mother Andy is trying to reach you. She was hoping you'd recognize her code. She's here to help you. She wants to help you, but she needs you to come out now.

At first, nothing happened, as though the message fell on deaf ears but a little more waiting and the cube began to cycle through colors. After a few cycles, the cube went dark and the Silurian Akira appeared in the lab. The Silurian hissed at all the people who had gathered in the lab, but then she quickly calmed herself.

"So sorry about that, the transition was a bit jarring," the Silurian said. Then she smiled brightly.

"Mom!" Akira exclaimed in delight and relief when she saw Andy. "Please tell me you can fix us," she pleaded softly.

"I'll do my best; just sit tight, we'll get you separated," Andy said, then got to work. "Feel free to chat, just try not to touch anything, and I apologize in advance if there's any hiccups in your conversation."

Akira nodded, then smiled at Daytona and Maica. "Oh, it is good to see all of you! Being in that box was awful, but I know it was necessary. Thanks for talking to us to help pass the time," Akira said to Daytona.

Daytona smiled, almost looking like a schoolboy whose first crush noticed him for the first time. He wanted to walk up to Akira and kiss her senseless, but he wasn't sure it was okay to touch her while Andy was working.

"Of course," he said. "The pleasure was largely mine. It kept me from worrying about you as much. It's...it's really good to see you."

"It's good to be seen! Although, I must look a bit frightening in this armor, oh my, and the scales..." Had she been capable of blushing like this, she would have, though her expression of embarrassment was easily recognizable even through the scales. "Oh dear, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause offense!"

"None taken," the Silurian replied smoothly, offering a grin. "You monkeys are equally unsettling for me to look upon, so no hard feelings," she said in jest, causing Akira's laughter to bubble up.

“Do we have to split them up?” the Doctor asked Andy and Maica with genuine curiosity. “Because they seem to be getting along great now. I’ve never had two friends in one body before.”

"Being tucked away in a box like that, I guess it forces a kinship regardless of our desires," the Silurian remarked. "But I am looking forward to being separated; Akira is a fine companion, but our interests do not align."

"Agreed. I may visit her in the holodeck when I can to see how she's doing, but I am ready to have control of my body again," Akira added in agreement.

"Besides, the overlapping matrices would eventually cause too many problems and the danger to their existence would become insurmountable; separating them truly is the best option for them both," Andy chimed in. "Not much longer, you two, I think I've got just about everything isolated."

Daytona let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding since the Doctor asked his question. While the idea of Akira and Number Four staying connected presented some interesting possibilities in the abstract, in reality Daytona was pretty sure he'd have ended up holding the smelly, messy end of that stick.

It took a bit longer than Andy anticipated to separate the two women, but finally the sentient hologram began to react, shifting uncomfortably until finally one was pulled from the other so that the Silurian stood beside Akira. Andy immediately froze the Silurian so that if there was any damage to her matrix that she wouldn't implode while Andy focused on Akira.

"Oh my, that feels so much better!" Akira exclaimed as she touched her cheeks to feel familiar skin under her fingertips. "Oh, and it feels good to have some maintenance done," she added with a relieved sigh.

"Yeah, as I hear it, you've been put through the ringer lately. But don't worry, I'll have you as good as new in a bit," Andy replied with a grin. "Hey lover boy, you should be okay to touch her now, just go easy."

Daytona grinned. He walked up to Akira, took her in his arms.

"Welcome back," he said. And then and kissed her, gently enough to follow Andy's instructions, passionately enough for Akira to know for an incontrovertible fact that he had missed her very much. "You look wonderful...I mean...you were sort of cute as a dinosaur woman...OUCH! I was just kidding my love! You're absolutely perfect the way you are!"

Akira giggled at Daytona, and once she was done hugging him, she pulled away to hug Maica. "Mom, it's great to see you," she said as she embraced the Orion android tightly. "Don't get me wrong, I love Aunt Maica, but there is no replacement for you and Mom; I'm glad you're both here."

"Any time you need us, just call and we'll be here as soon as we can, no matter what," replied the green android, hugging Akira back tenderly. "Besides, we had some shore leave coming and I talked your captain into letting us join her crew here at her home so it's one of those two orgasms with one rock things. Or was it two birds with one brain? Sorry, I still get colloquialisms mixed up."

Akira giggled. "Even I know that one!" she teased with a bright smile. "And I wanted to call you right after the incident on Granweh, but... I don't know, I knew you were doing important things too, I didn't want to take you away from other people who needed you."

"Pigbath! Nothing is more important than you. That outbreak of Rekxelian Flu could have healed itself." Maica paused a moment before continuing. "Ok, maybe not... But we're both just a call away and can talk almost any time."

"I'm sorry, I just didn't want to be a bother," Akira admitted sheepishly. "But I promise, I will make a greater effort to call more often, even if I don't 'need' you."

"Hey you three, Akira is stable enough to leave the lab if you want to go get some fresh air," Andy spoke up. "But no food, real or holographic! I can finish up with this Silurian character real quick, then I can come join you, and afterwards we can go back to Akira's quarters where she's probably more comfortable, there I can finish her maintenance and give her new android body a good once over."

"Akira?" Daytona said. "Would you like to spend some time alone with your mother, or do I get the honor of escorting two of the loveliest ladies on Artan Fortress on a walk? Entirely up to you, my love. I've missed you, but I've seen you more recently than your mother has. Just be sure to make time for me later if it's going to be just the two of you right now. As I said, I've missed you."

"You wouldn't mind the alone time?" Akira asked innocently. She had been thinking of getting some alone time with her mothers, and while she wanted some time for all of them to get together to get to know Daytona, the idea of some alone time now sounded really good right now. "You are so sweet and thoughtful! I will make it up to you later... once I'm able to, of course," she added with a blush, then rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

"Of course, my love," Daytona said. He hugged Akira close for a moment then let her go. "Chief Carter, Captain Maica, thank you both for helping her. I look forward to getting to know you both if you can find the time. Akira, we have the same quarters as before. I'll go fetch Moriko so she won't be lonely at night, and I'll see you this evening."

"Before we go... She has no name, right?" Maica studied the Silurian for a bit, thinking a few things over. "She kind of reminds me of one of my officers - a Saurian named Shiashu. I hope she can live well after this." Turning to Daytona, Maica winked at him. "As for you, if we can't find time in the next week, we're doing something wrong."

"I'll suggest the name to her," Andy said without looking up from her console. "You have fun, love," she continued distractedly, all while Akira giggled at Maica's tease of Daytona.

"Yes, we will definitely make time for him!" Akira affirmed in a chipper tone. Before leaving, she briefly looked back at the Silurian with a soft smile; she knew her new friend was in good hands. "Alright, let's go find some food! I know I can't eat, but you'll love what the Artan Fortress kitchens have to offer," she declared as she hooked her arm with Maica's and strode out of the lab.

"Thank you again, Chief Carter," Daytona said. "And you, too, Doctor. I won't forget what you did for Akira, should we encounter each other again."

Some people might not have bothered to thank a hologram, but the love of Daytona's life was a hologram. Yes, Akira was probably more sentient than the Doctor, but Daytona no longer took holograms for granted.

While Akira was happily reunited with her family, the Doctor stood with the newly-named Shiashu, his hand on the Silurian’s shoulder. “It was my pleasure,” the Doctor replied with a smile, his eyes twinkling. “Should any of you want to have some fun while gallivanting about the universe, doing that Starfleet thing, you’re always welcome to drop by the holodeck and visit. Our adventures may only be holographic, but reality is what we make of it, eh?”

"Doctor," Daytona said. "The people in this room are among the most likely to view holographic lifeforms or, as I sometimes call people like you and Akira and Shiashu, photonic lifeforms, as more than just characters in a story. Besides, I actually remember you now. Centuries ago, when I was serving on merchant ships, traveling the quadrant, I used to spend some of my time manning the communications console. It was rather boring most of the time, so I would try to find whatever stray transmissions I could, just to break the monotony. I often picked up stray television transmissions from Earth. I caught snippets of the show your holonovels are based on. I saw you in several of your many forms. You provided a much needed relief from serious boredom. So, thank you on two counts."

A lot had changed in the past few hours for the redoubtable Rita Paris. The plucky explorer had arrived at the conclusion that she was in peril on the USS Hera, which her commanding officer had then realized after a discussion with the chief engineer. Or perhaps it was that she had tried accessing the Section 32 transporter which had reassembled her on her arrival from her native universe, the Kelvin timeline. One which had been created by intrusion into the timeline which had created a splinter timeline, rewriting what was known of time travel and alternate dimensions.

Just trying to access an off-limits technology would not likely have been sufficient to put the pieces together, though. Accessing the Hera’s mission logs from her time travel mission were another clue, as well as her accessing the detailed schematics of the runabouts. While Rita had tried to keep her searches private, she was not familiar enough with modern protocol to hide her inquiries. While she did not know it, her best friend, the Andorian engineer, had spoken to the captain, voicing her concerns about the marooned maiden. Then of course there was the warning the Captain received from the USS Pasternak, which was still monitoring the situation involving the tempestuous time traveler. By the time the Captain’s wife had chided Enalia Telvin for coming on to the already emotionally overwrought officer, the arrival of a summons from the captain had the lost navigator practically panicked.

But an honest and clearly communicated conversation had brought it mostly out in the open, and left all parties relieved and calmed, with both women coming away with a far greater understanding of one another. A shared meal had been healing, and a promise of hope for the future had set the lost navigator back on course.

The USS Hera was Rita's home now. She had a captain who recognized the value of the unconventional officer from another time and space, to whom she could relate and understand. She had a stalwart friend, and a mighty starship as her assignment that she knew how to pilot well enough to take bridge shifts. Now she had learned that she would at least be able to tell Starfleet back where she came from what had happened to her, as well as the love of her life, who no doubt blamed himself for her death.

Life was good, and as usual, it wasn’t what she had expected. For now, Rita Paris was actually happy to be where she was, as she fulfilled her first, best destiny- piloting a starship.

Stepping out of the turbolift on Deck 1, the bridge, the former tactical officer was happy to see the Captain, all dressed and prepped for a semi-formal greeting with her past. The Hera had been bound for her orbital family fortress, and soon they would be coming out of warp into the Kabrel system to bring her in for some repairs and R&R. Now that she was no longer anxious about becoming pirate booty, Paris was curious about their destination, and the system itself.

Offering the captain a cheerful nod and a happy smile, the blonde bombardier sipped in behind her assistant, the colorfully plumed Mona Gonadie.

While Thex sh'Zoarhi had become her fast friend, Gonadie had been endlessly patient, showing her new boss the ropes with good humor and great relief that someone else was now doing all of the paperwork. Thus, as she could now count the captain and her wife as friends, so too she could not discount the Miradonian pilot as a friend as well, and a darned good shipmate.

“How long until we reach the Kabrel system, Ensign?” Paris asked from behind the plumed pilot, her hand resting on the shoulder of the helmsman’s station.

“Just a few more seconds. You got here just in time.” Mona didn’t have the holographic controls activated at the moment so she pointed out the countdown timer on the warp auto-controls. “Our approach vector will be taking us past the outer asteroid belt and through an industrial zone. The fortress is near a planetoid in the inner asteroid belt. System control cleared us for this approach because they didn’t want us to inconvenience some delegate’s sloop or something near the fourth planet.”

“A word of warning about Kabrel four…” Enalia chimed in. “While it’s a wonderful vacation spot and it often puts Risa to shame, most people can’t afford the price. If you visit a world in-system, try Kabrel three. That’s where the common folk go so you’re not expected to be filthy rich.”

“I don’t suppose I have a hundred thirty years of back pay accumulated, do I?” Rita turned to joke in the captain’s direction.

“If you did, I don’t think I could afford it. Besides, just your luck it would probably only apply in another universe,” Enalia shot back with a lopsided grin as the ship dropped out of warp. On the viewscreen was a rather small yellow star and several streamers of solar energy. The holographic viewscreen popped up information about in-system items that were in view as the navigation sensors scanned throughout the system, reporting back everything.

“Welcome home…” Enalia muttered to herself before addressing the rest of the bridge crew. “Lieutenant Paris, if you would be so kind, please take us the rest of the way in.” With that command, Ensign Gonadie logged off at helm and stood up, motioning for Rita to take over for her, a bit of a smile on her face.

The professional pilot paused only long enough to offer the captain a bit of a frown and a nod meant to offer support to the captain before she slid easily into the pilot’s seat. “At your pleasure, Captain”

It was a phrase she’d used for years now, whenever answering a command from the center chair, and it felt good to offer it on the Hera. Nimble and able fingers danced over the controls, logging her into the station before she activated the full range of physical and holographic controls that Gonadie had installed. Somehow this, of all things, made Rita feel like she was piloting a starship of the future, and it brought a wide smile to her face.

Lining up her vectors and making minor course corrections, the curvaceous chronal cosmonaut reported. “Approaching the asteroid belt, on target vector 75 mark 219.”

Enalia pulled up the projected path on her own chair console and looked over it again. “They gave us a horrible path through the outer asteroid belt and the Hera is far from small. I know you’re up to the challenge though. Best possible speed, if you please.” Smug as can be, Enalia clasped her hands in her lap and leaned back in her chair, ready to enjoy the show.

Catching the idea, Rita offered a grin to Ensign Gonadie, who was still standing by to offer help if needed. But this was a moment Rita had been waiting for- a chance to prove that the Captain’s faith in her piloting skills was not misplaced.

The ‘throttle’ on the controls was simple and intuitive, and while the plotted course took them through a flight path with mobile obstacles, an order was an order. The Hera was capable of .9 lightspeed, after all. It was time to see if all that simulation practice in minefields had paid off. The extradimensional explorer pushed the throttle forward to bring the mighty starship up to speed, even as she began twisting and banking the big girl through the obstacle course the universe had laid out for her.

The grin on her face was unlike any seen on the face of the neurotic navigator since coming aboard. This was what she’d been born for, and a hundred years out of date just meant that she knew how to do more with less. A modern pilot might have been more cautious. But the daredevil dame from the era of mansplaining and miniskirts knew no fear here- only excitement and the thrill of a challenge.

Mona clung to the helm side monitor as Rita dove the behemoth nebula class through the asteroid field. She could feel the internal inertial dampeners straining to keep up but had a grin on her face, nonetheless. “I have a feeling sickbay is going to be inundated with complaints of space sickness. She’s a bit more maneuverable than the old constitution class though, isn’t she?”

“Are you kidding me? This is like handling a sports car after you’ve spent your life driving a bulldozer,” Rita quipped as she took a barrel roll over a particularly large asteroid that came up on them awfully quickly- but at full impulse power, everything came at you fast. Fingers freed from the throttle tapped across the console as her eyes never left the screen, as Paris called for more power to the deflectors to take care of the micro asteroids that couldn’t be driven around. The deflectors could do the job, but they had a hard time keeping up at this speed. “Clearing the asteroid belt in 30 seconds ma’am- we’re en route to the industrial zone. I’ll do my best not to run anyone over as we’re passing through.”

Even as she said the words, Rita banked the Hera hard to starboard to avoid a passing mining freighter that looked oddly familiar to her from the history books.

“Please try not to destroy any of my family’s mining ships. They’re antiques, so we’re the ones that’ll have to move out of their way.” Enalia commented calmly as the freighter flashed its running lights at the Hera. They were probably pissed at being pelted by micro-debris, but they had deflectors and armor that could take that at least. They just didn’t have the engines to maneuver past one tenth impulse or warp two.

“Yes ma’am, duly noted... I promise not to trade paint,” Paris quipped as she banked a bit wider and more generously around the next freighter’s projected flight path that they were not supposed to have encountered for another 20 minutes yet. The real-time holographic telemetry made moving at such a speed in-system an absolute breeze, and it just made compliance with the order that much more fun. Internally Rita was glad the first officer was elsewhere, otherwise she was sure she’d be getting a stern, boring and unnecessary lecture about all the lives in her hands as she took unnecessary risks with the helm. It was hard to take such a lecture seriously from someone whose father hadn't been born yet when she'd sworn to well and faithfully discharge her duties to Starfleet.

Right now, the captain wanted best possible speed, and she was by gum going to get it. Plotting the course on the fly, the Starfleet legacy officer caromed and banked the big starship through the twisting flight paths of other vessels in the vicinity, powering her toward the inner asteroid belt that protected their eventual destination.

“Child’s play,” Rita muttered as she took great delight in the task. This was why she was here... this was why she had learned to pilot as well as navigate. For moments like this, when she was called upon to do something most pilots could not do- well, Gonadie could do it, but to be fair she was an avian and had literally been born to fly. For an Earth girl a hundred years and more out of date, this was a challenge, and Rita Paris loved a challenge that showcased her skills at the helm.

“Coming up on that inner asteroid belt ma’am... looks like there’s one way in and someone a lot slower is using it right now- unless you want me to deviate from the logged flight plan?” Rita reported while they were still passing the manufacturing plants, far enough in advance for the captain to monitor the readings and make a decision.

Enalia pulled up the readings on her chair’s display and hummed over the results. “That would be a problem all right. Bulk freighter. Overloaded too.” Punching in a course correction, the captain sent it to helm. “You’ll have to do a powerslide around asteroid GCN-975C but we can get around him without deviating from the flight plan too far. Just crank up the external inertial dampeners to compensate.”

“Yes ma’am!” Paris responded, taking in the new telemetry and eyeballing it. Holographically she tweaked it a bit, adding her own flourishes as she took in the data and astronomical orbit plans along with the freighter, a series of asteroids and a little pleasure craft that had no business being where it was at the moment. One finger drifted to the inertial dampeners as she rode the throttle and pushed the mighty starship, braking slightly with the front dampeners to produce a drag effect for a drift maneuver. The powerslide was a 24th century innovation- trying this with the Exeter back in the day she would have torn a nacelle off. But with the more compact and sturdy design of the Hera’s unique build, she could not only take it, she was built for it.

A shudder began vibrating the starship as Rita slid into her first powerslide, which wasn’t bad at the start, but built a little too long for comfort. A bit of overcompensation that had to be recovered from, which certainly wouldn’t make the history books, but it was good enough to get them where they were going. And at no point did Mona Gonadie feel the need to say anything or take the stick, which Rita took as a good sign. Another slight shudder was felt from not enough dampeners recovering from the slide, which Rita quickly compensated for, but all in all she still had to chalk this imperfect performance to experience.

“Ah, sorry about the rough ride there, ma’am,” Paris coughed, a bit embarrassed.

“Not bad for a first try,” Enalia commented, checking her sensor readouts again. “Looks like you’ll have to do it again but with a lateral roll though.”

As the words left her lips, the pilot’s agile digits were already at work, the joystick in one hand even as she tapped at the ring of holographic commands that encircled it. To Rita it was somehow reminiscent of the superhero mythos of old Earth, when the hero would fly by following their fist into the sky for some terribly anti-aeronautical unsound reason. Yet here she was, piloting a starship through her fist gripping the control arm out before her.

“Easy peasy ma’am. She handles like she knows where to go if I let her,” Paris offered from the helm.

“The autopilot isn’t quite as good as the three of us yet, thankfully,” Mona chuckled as she kept clinging to the navigation readouts on the helm next to Rita. She hadn’t made any motions to help her, but she was there just in case. “On top of that, RCS thruster nine was acting up earlier, but engineering was able to sort it out. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have made it through the outer asteroid belt.”

“She’s a wonder, a real marvel. We didn’t even dream of this back in my day- we thought we were flying the best of the fleet. I appreciate you know how to fly her, too,” Rita chucked her gaze over to the captain briefly. “Every captain should, I think. Captain Stuart could technically do it, but...” Rita shuddered a bit as she took a hard bank to starboard to get a view of their destination. “So this would be...?”

The ship’s path was now free and clear of any more obstacles and they could now see a glimmering snowglobe floating in space. A literal snowglobe. There was a silver castle and forests and lakes inside of it, and spires below it, but there was no mistaking what it was. This was the Artan family Orbital Fortress.

“There she is. One hundred forty kilometers wide and waiting for us to dock.” Enalia punched up a detailed scan of the fortress, including what little magnification was needed. “More amenities than a pleasure planet and larger than Earth Spacedock. Far fewer personal accommodations though.”

The ensign at operations, whom looked much more green than normal, piped up. “Captain, TRGCN-779156A automated control has us on approach and approves our docking. Tractor and docking ports are standing by.”

“Thank you ensign,” Enalia replied. “Helm, you should have automated beacons routed to your station now. Once we’re within five kilometers the tractors will take over.”

At that, Rita took her hand off the wheel, as it were. “Coasting to the tractor beams annnnnd” there was a slight bump as the tractors took over for the high-speed approach of the craft. “Impressive. As she’s a station, you have tractor beams strong enough to catch a starship this size and mass moving at .863 lightspeed on approach.”

Spinning her chair, Paris sighed contentedly then smiled, a close-lipped slightly smug affair. “The future is bloody marvelous, ma'am. Best possible speed, Captain. I don’t know if we broke any records, but we certainly established a watermark.”

Enalia gave her normal lopsided grin as the umbilicals engaged and operations transferred ship systems to external power. “I’m sure medical will be filing a complaint, but I’ll write it off as a combination of training and necessary due to… diplomatic affairs with the system.” Pressing a few more controls, the ship’s alert status went to blue and the intercom activated.

“This is the Captain speaking. We have arrived at the Artan Family Orbital Fortress and two weeks of shore leave starts now. Same rules as last time apply. Don’t catch anything you don’t intend to keep and don’t end up in a prison if you go off station. Minimum manning for the duration. If you haven’t already, get with your department heads for the schedules. Fireworks will be included this time. Captain Telvan out.”

With that, Paris turned in her chair to face Ensign Gonadie. “Helm is of absolutely no use in port, so you are officially on liberty, Miss Gonadie. I’ll set the rest of the rotations for shore leave according to performance evals, and spend the next few writing out reports and dealing with the port authorities and all the fun stuff. You’ve been a real sport about me being in the job, and you have been an invaluable assistant. Go forth and be on leave, and you can check in with me here again in seven days. That much I can do for you.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll see you on the fortress.” With a nod and a smile, Gonadie was in the turbolift with six other of the bridge crew, eager to start their shore leave.

“With your permission, I’ve got plenty of work to do, so I’ll be staying aboard for a bit.” The leggy lieutenant rose from the helm and took a step toward the ship’s commander. “Shall I mind the bridge for you, ma’am? It’s shore leave for you too, after all.”

“Yeah, thanks. Though my shore leave doesn’t really start for a while yet, really.” Enalia sighed heavily as she stood and stretched, her semi-formal uniform shifting out of place a bit as she did so. ”I have a meet and greet on the fortress shortly with my wife. Then a dinner party, and not the pleasant kind like the one we had. If I don’t get roped into some engagement, I might be able to relax tomorrow.” Adjusting her uniform, she headed to the turbolift as well. “The bridge is yours, then. Take good care of her for me.”

“Will do ma’am. If you need either one of us, just call and we’ll come running,” Rita reassured as she watched the captain head for the lift, staying in place where she was. Once the captain was off the bridge, Rita approached the command chair slowly, reaching out her fingers to touch it gingerly. Half-turning, she eased herself slowly down into the center chair, settling lightly into it before buffing it a bit with her bum.

It was comfortable, it looked sensible, and as Rita tapped in her login, it was obvious that as a command chair it was well designed. Seatbelts. Finally.

As a little girl, Rita Paris had dreamed of sitting in the center seat- the command seat on the bridge of a starship. Her first time had been aboard the Farragut, when she had sat in a few graveyard shifts as a junior officer. On the Exeter she had often taken the chair when Stuart and Sonak were on an away mission, and it had lost its glamour by becoming commonplace for her. Although when she genuinely had to take command, those moments were thrilling for her, and she had acquitted herself well, according to Captain Stuart and the medals he had awarded her.

Today, she sat at the centerpiece of a technological marvel of a bridge that hadn’t changed that much aesthetically, but was light years ahead in her science, design and capabilities. They had to rework warp math, for phloog’s sake. As she sat in the command chair of the USS Hera, starship of the future, Rita Paris settled in.

This was home. Well, maybe not in the center chair, but she’d gladly keep it warm for her Captain. But the mighty starship, the weird universe of the future- this was where she was meant to be. Bringing that ‘can-do’ pioneer spirit of the 23rd century into the 25th century.

Living the Starfleet dream, and boldly going.

The mercurial mood swings of one Rita Paris had their highs and their lows, as mood swings were wont to do. At theis particular moment, however, she was riding a particularly high mood. From the growing fear that had the retro throwback officer considering desperate measures, the air had been cleared and she felt considerably better about herself, her position onboard, her captain, and even her best friend. Leaving her quarters for the leisurely 70 meter stroll to the chief engineer's quarters, Paris did so with a wiggle in her walk that was basically dancing, scooting along to a beat that only she heard. When she arrived at the quarters of one Thex sh'Zoarhi, Paris hip-bumped the door chime.

Having made sure that the Hera was okay, as the captain's automatic shipyard got to work fixing her, Thex had retired to her quarters. Now, she was looking through the code of the holo-programs they had encountered on the ship's flight deck. Something was very strange, as it hadn't been listed. Not just on the Federation holo data base, but apparently it wasn't in any database she could find. Now she lay on her bed, wearing the dancing outfit she had been given by the Orion dancers she had encountered, looking through the code when the door alarm buzzed. Standing up, she walked over to door and opened it.

When the door opened, Rita was waiting with open arms. "THEX!" she squealed, then swept the smaller woman up in a hug. Spinning her about, Rita released her to cheer, "Shore leave! Shore leave! Shore leave buddies?"

Thex smiled ,even as her friend briefly drove the wind out of her lungs with her enthusiastic hug. " Good to see you as well, Rita! You're certainly in a good mood. Sure, I'll be your shore leave buddy," Thex gasped as the breath returned to her lungs.

"Well... yeah! Yeah, I am in a good mood. Just... a lot of things got cleared up, and I feel really good about where I am and what I'm doing. So, I hear that this is some fantastic space fortress? No mere space station, but a space fortress complete with a castle no less. And casinos and gambling and night life and seedy characters..." Rita paused, a calmer expression on her face. "And I have no illusions about my combat awareness or my martial abilities or my untouchable status in this uniform. So we should watch one another's backs, right? Shore leave buddies! Stick together, watch your buddy, keep them out of harm's way. So I watch your back and you watch mine, and we can go and have a good time!"

At that moment Rita finally noticed the dancer's outfit. "Were you practicing your dance moves in here? Man, you really commit, pal of mine."

" Well I'd planned to, but then I got a little distracted with something. Besides, this place does get rather hot for me, and this is a rather cooling outfit." The engineer replied grinning.

"There's kinda not much to it, you mean," Rita teased gently. "So this place is hot? Like sweaty hot?" Of course, as usual Rita was standing there in her anachronistic gold minidress that she seemed to wear all the time if there wasn't a specific occasion.

" Hot, but not sweaty hot. Well, for me it is, but I do come from an ice planet. Nothing I can't handle, though- I enjoyed the place the last time I was there," The andorian replied, the grin still lodged on her face.

"So that actually raises a question I've never known the answer to, so I can ask you, right? You come from an ice planet, very cold, and you are adapted to it. But we live on a starship where the average temperature is 22 degrees- is that hot for you?" Rita held out her hands before her in a backpedal, "If I'm asking something culturally insensitive or wrong, I apologize, I sincerely don't mean any insult. I just... you're my first Andorian friend. Like, ever. If you look at my graduating class, there's one green face, one furry snout, a Saurian and a lotta humans. I really don't know, and I'm still trying to catch up on everything I don't know, which trust me, literally fills volumes. So... is this an okay question to ask?"

" Rita, relax. It takes a lot to offend me, so you can ask me these sort of questions. " Thex replied reassuringly. " The ship is hot, but after the four years at the academy, I got used to the increased temperature. Andorians are made out of tougher stuff than most species, even if our blood doesn't clot."

"Oh my scants, is that why you were bleeding out so fast when we were running from T'Pral? Your blood doesn't clot? Jeez, Thex, when you wormed into that duct you could've been killed! You shoulda sent me... ah... oh." The curvaceous cosmonaut started to object that Thex should have sent her in the engineer's place. But there was no way she would have fit in that slender duct like thin and wiry Andorian could, Rita wouldn't have known where she was going, nor what to do when she got there. As much as she admired and appreciated the spunky little Andorian spitfire, this raised her estimation of the cheerful spanner jockey up yet another notch, at least with her friend from the golden age.

Wrapping her arm around the shoulder of her diminutive gal pal, Paris offered her that million-watt smile. "Well, now I know, so next time something happens to you I'll know what do do and not let you bleed out because it's not cold enough for your wounds to freeze over. Which is totally not happening this time around, because we're on shore leave! In a fortress of bloodthirsty pirates who are more afraid of the Captain than pretty much anything else, so we should be totally fine, right?"

" Oh, the station is staffed entirely by holograms. The pirates live in a few stations and outposts surrounding the place, and most of them know not to hurt any Starfleet personnel. Not that you need to leave the station, it seems to have anything. " Thex explained.

"I... did not know that. Keen, I guess? I dunno, like pretty much anything it's new to me, so I'll just tourist and keep an eye on your back. Whiiiiich actually won't start, at least for me, for 48 hours. Ensign Gonadie has been tireless in her efforts to teach me, bring me up to speed on my own department and generally she's been the best assistant a gal could ask for. So I sent her out on 48 hours of liberty as soon as she walked me through docking here. I just wanted to make sure I got dibs in first with you, and that you were okay looking out for me while I wander around looking like a rube." In truth, Paris was unaware that half the terms she was using were anachronisms, and she was inadvertently confusing her friend a bit just as she herself was so often lost in modern conversations.

" Well, I'll be happy to show you around, my friend- it's quite easy when you-" Thex began, when the discarded PaDD chirruped with an incoming message.

" Huh, I wonder who that's from..." the andorian wondered aloud as she reached for the padd. She could see from the title it was from... Rita?

In that moment, a number of realizations came to Rita Paris. The realization of the time, a few hours after docking. Of why a message would pop up for Thex with the urgent tone, sent high priority. And in that moment, the lost navigator realized that she had gotten a little busy, and forgotten to stop one of those dominoes she had been setting up from falling.

"Ah, Thex? If that's from me, please don't read it?" Rita asked with a note of regret in her tone.

" Okay... " The andorian replied, having picked up the padd she turned to regard her friend. " A late night message you don't want people to read? I could get it cancelled, if that would help you." She was feeling slightly confused, but her human friend must have some reason for wanting her to not read it.

"No, not exactly.... c'mere," Rita grabbed the cerulean-skinned starfarer's hand and pulled her to a chair, as Rita sat opposite her. "So, confession time. Seeee, I was really kinda worried about the captain and the come-on and the pirates and the space fortress- I didn't even know it was a space fortress, I thought it was just a station. That would have freaked me out worse."

"At any rate, between that and... well, I'm homesick, Thex. I miss my ship, my shipmates, Sonak..." Rita stared off wistfully for a few seconds before coming back to the conversation. "I miss not being the dumb kid who doesn't understand half of every conversation I'm in. I miss having a good relationship with the command staff- I miss them valuing my input, I think. I miss... I miss my life that was, Thex. And I am telling you all of this for a reason. I mean, you pretty much know all of this, I figure." While she was relaying all of this, the agile engineer noticed that for a change, Rita seemed... relaxed. She was relaying stressful points, but she didn't seem nearly so wound up.

"The part you don't know, is that I've been researching slingshot trajectories for chronal insertion and travel. It's hard to piece together, but I had a rough idea and I had kinda concocted a plan to get me out of here before something unpleasant happened. To make a run for the past, where I could try playing ionic transporter bingo in an effort to get home. And yes, I know, if I did anything like that you would be obligated to tell the Captain, and that's why I didn't tell you. Because I would never ask you to compromise your duty for a friend." Rita took Thex's hand again and gave it a squeeze before letting go.

"Thing is, I could do all of that and leave all this behind in a mad gamble to get home. But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you, Thex. You've been my friend since the moment I met you, and you're actually the best friend I've ever had. No lie. Other women always seem to hate me or want to sleep with me, but you've been kind, patient, supportive and willing. You put your life on the line for me and almost died. You've given freely of your time and your heart, and you were the only regret I had about leaving this place." Now Rita's eyes had filled with tears, and she was choking up a bit as she smiled.

Thex said nothing as she listened to her friend pour her heart out to her. She knew this current situation was bad, but the fact that her friend had been planning on risking her life to try and escape it was a gut punch to the andorian's system. With tears in her own eyes, she reached out and tightly hugged her human friend. "Don't you ever try that, you stupid fool. If you ever feel down, come and see me, and we'll find a way through it!" the girlie grease monkey said through her own tears, as she held her friend tightly.

"Well, thing is, I did, and... you kind of, well, it seemed like it bothered you a lot, so I didn't press the matter. It didn't help talking with my shrink either, if it makes you feel any better." Rita stroked the slender back of the Andorian, patting her gently to reassure her. "I did talk it out with the Captain though, so it's a lot better now. And there might be developments to get me some closure too, so there's that."

Pulling back, Rita's human blue eyes peered into the blue eyes of the Andorian. "Please don't read that letter, because you don't need to read it. I'm not going anywhere, and I've got no secrets from you. Just know that you are my friend, my shipmate and my partner in trouble. I'll always trust you, I treasure your company, and I'll be there for you when you need me. I am now, and ever shall be, your friend, Thex."

Thex was about to mention the quote made famous by Spock, before realizing her friend probably didn't know what had happened to the vanished ambassador, or that the quote was historically attributed to him. She nodded at her friend's words, though she kept gripping her hands as a smile spread over her face. " And I will always be yours, Rita."

"So! Shore leave buddies!" Rita beamed that happy smile at her best pal that really did make her look like a model. "Mine starts in two days give or take, and I am totally taking you up on showing me the sights and keeping me out of trouble." Squeezing the blue hand in her own lightly bronzed hand, Rita tossed her hair with a flick of her head. "Thanks for understanding, Thex. Sorry if I scared you. I guess maybe I scared myself, too."

" No problem, Rita my friend. I'll make sure to show you around when your shore leave begins. I have a few things to sort out before I can get started on my own. " The andorian replied, grinning.

Rising from her chair, Rita Paris Walked to the exit, then stopped shy of the door sensor. "I wouldn't have made it here without you, Thex. So whenever you feel down about yourself, just remember- you saved my life in more ways than one."

On that line, the ebullient Miss Paris made her exit. Apparently she practiced this sort of theatrical exit, because she pretty much nailed it.

The andorian smiled at her friend as she left. The chief engineer suddenly felt a great sense of accomplishment, although part of her didn't know why. She'd done what she'd hoped anyone else would have done, if they found someone scared and confused and alone. Picking up her padd, she walked back to her desk. She still had a mystery to solve, though she set back to it with a smile.

Duty rosters filed, disciplinary measures handed down, schedules made for those who would be working shifts on the bridge while the Hera was in port, and plans made with Thex to go sight-see and get into trouble as tourists were underway.

But while there were a myriad of distractions available at the orbital fortress of the pirate fleet that had produced one Federation starship captain, Rita Paris moved today with a particular goal in mind. She had come upon a notion, and such things were difficult to dissuade once the pretty pilot got them into her head. The Baroness Von Alcott was one of the more unusual and interesting characters that comprised the crew of the Hera. Although it was still somewhat unclear to the lost navigator just what purpose the Baroness played on the Hera, save being a bodyguard to the Captain, likely as an acquiescence to her family.

Whatever the truth of the matter, Rita had encountered the Baroness and taken a liking to her. The woman was robust, unflappable and surprisingly congenial. Also, she suspected- at least physically- around her own age. If she was going to live in the future, then she was going to need friends. And while the Artan family fortress might not be the best place to go chasing down the professional pirate, it might not be the worst of ideas, either. Captain Telvan had seemed to be less than enthusiastic about returning to her duties here, so it might be possible the Baroness Von Alcott was none too pleased to be back on home turf again either.

Where to find her was the operative question at this point.

The holographic Trill catgirl maids that were omnipresent throughout the fortress, monitoring for the needs of the guests and maintaining the facilities noticed that one of them seemed to be searching for something and sent the nearest maid to see if they could assist. “Pardon me, miss…” the maid began with a slight bow. “But may I assist you in your relaxation in any way? Perhaps I can help you find something or someone?”

Turning to face the catgirl maid with a note of surprise, the newcomer offered a half-smile. “Yes, maybe you can? I’m looking for the Baroness Schwein Von Alcott?”

“Of course miss.” Pausing briefly, the maid system ran a search through the fortress for the personage in question. “Baroness Third Class, Schwein von Alcott, Adjutant to the Lady Telvan is currently on floor ninety eight in the botanical gardens enjoying a refreshing beverage. Shall I guide you there now?”

“That... would be great, yes, thank you,” Paris replied. Floor ninety eight? The future was on a much larger scale than she was accustomed to. As she fell in behind the catgirl, Rita pondered how the maid knew exactly where to find the Baroness without any consultation of a device. Were the catgirls cyberlinked? Were they androids? Were they holograms? A hive mind? What did third class mean?

There were questions aplenty in her mind about that, but she didn’t want to be rude and ask, so Rita kept it to herself. After all, in theory she was in no danger, so it wasn’t like her life depended on the answer. Eventually she could ask someone and get an answer- no need to potentially insult her guide just to satisfy her curiosity.

As the maid led Rita into one of the crystal walled turbolifts, she turned and stood in a bellhop position as the doors closed. They were on a lower floor so there was no view yet, but a few floors up, the turbolift was on the outside of the castle so they could see the entirety of the outside of the fortress grounds on that side, including a forest, a lake, a horse track, and even a small golf course. It was all quite a bit to take in, and Rita Paris stared at the scenery, enraptured. Not even Risa had sights such as these back in her day.

Though it was slower than a normal turbolift for the enjoyment of the ride, they still arrived at their destination floor quickly enough and the maid led Rita out, then through a humid botanical garden to a bar and grill staffed by more seemingly identical catgirl maids who all greeted Rita simultaneously. “Welcome!”

Which of course made Rita start slightly, fixing a nervous smile onto her face as she took in the enthusiastic greeting. “Um, hello...”

The one guiding Rita went straight up to Schwein and introduced Rita, who hustled to catch up. “May I present to you Lieutenant Rita Paris, Chef Flight Control Officer of the USS Hera.”

Schwein looked up from her mug of cider and grinned at Rita. “Ah, you made it! Don’t worry about the holographic maid system. They take some getting used to. The family got it on discount from some pervert. Efficient and friendly, but not very personable and can’t take a hint even if you stab them. Perfect for pirates, ja?”

At the Baroness’s query, the maid serving her smiled and nodded. “Yes miss, quite right. We are perfect for any task you may require.”

Schwein just shook her head at the maid that spoke and turned back to Rita. “But what brings you to me? Are you here to drink maybe?”

“Well, I could... but actually I chased you down for a different reason, Baroness,” Rita settled into a chair, habitually smoothing out her anachronistic uniform’s miniskirt as she did so. “I’m not much of a fighter, really. I don’t like to get my hands dirty, and while I pack a good solid kick, usually getting into a fight means me losing a fight. And while a judo flip can make a difference and there’s no substitute for a good phaser, I’m thinking that perhaps I should broaden my scale of fighting styles.”

“So, I happened to notice that you actually wear a sword, on the Hera. Every time I’ve seen you, you’re wearing it. Which leads me to believe, in addition to the pirate coat and boots and eyepatch and I’m just sure there’s a hat somewhere, that you know how to use that hunk of steel. Or whatever they make swords from in the future. Am I right?” Paris perked up, an inquisitive smile on her face.

Schwein couldn’t help but let out a capacious laugh at that. “I do look the part of a pirate, don’t I?” Flipping up the eye patch, she revealed that the covered eye was actually a golden glowing cybernetic eye. “Though the eyepatch is for headaches. Scanning everyone with a medical tricorder for an eye can be tiresome and freaks some people out.” She then flipped the eyepatch back down and drained the rest of her pint.

“But you’re here to learn how to fight like a pirate, are you? Oi! Maid! Bring this lass a proper sword!” Schwein called out as she searched her pockets for a hypo. Finding one, she rummaged for one of her custom stimulant mixes.

Meanwhile, the maids were busy with the swords. They had rolled out a sword rack with quite a few that looked like they had all seen extensive brawls. “Perhaps miss would enjoy the use of one of the house swords?”

“That’s... handy,” Rita remarked as she rose from her seat to approach the rack of medieval weaponry. Although in truth they ran the gamut- there was a claymore, a bastard sword, a few various shortswords which likely had names like the gladius, which she remembered from history class. Longswords, an epee, even a katana was on the rack- and those were the swords she recognized. There were quite a few more with which she was unfamiliar, and the array of choices was both considerable and somewhat formidable.

“All right... so I guess the first order of business is picking out something I’m suited for. Nothing too heavy, because I’m in shape but I’m not that strong, not a powerhouse fighter. Nothing too short, because I’m tall, so I have reach and I should use that. Nothing too lightweight because then I likely wouldn’t have the grace to make it work...” The leggy lieutenant paused to eye the pirate. “How’m I doing so far?”

By this time Schwein had injected herself with a stimulant and began sobering up and was just staring at Rita. “That’s all well and good, but in a fight, your opponent isn’t going to sit there and let you think about what you’re good at in a fight. Just look at me, reach out, grab one, and hit me with it!”

With that and a grin, Schwein reached out, grabbed a random sword, and hefted it, waiting for Rita to do the same.

“Not exactly how I thought this would go, but what ever does?” Paris lamented with a grin, grabbing a shortsword. “Ah, no,” she dropped it and grabbed a longsword. It felt reasonably solid in her grasp and as she hefted it, it seemed to be around the right weight- it felt like a weapon in her hand, not a toy. “Okay, so...”

Clumsily the bombastic bombardier took an experimental swipe at the Baroness, without any real power to the swing.

“There you go,” Schwein replied, easily parrying the swing with the half-lance she had picked up. “Keep an eye on me, watch my moves and try to predict where I’m going to attack. My feet, hands, and eyes will tell you everything, but for now, focus on my feet and weapon.”

After a few more parries, Schwein threw an attack of her own, telegraphing it well in the hopes that Rita would be able to easily read it.

Predicting where the sword was going from watching the feet and the weapon wasn’t exactly intuitive, and when the telegraphed swing came in, Rita got the sword up to meet it, but was off-balance and ended up on her ass on the ground. Picking herself and dusting herself off, she squared off against the pirate once more. “So is there... should I move my feet a certain way or stand somehow to keep my balance better? Or should I just go at it?”

“Keep your trailing foot more behind you.” Schwein swung again, a bit more gently this time.

Eyeing where the platinum-haired woman’s feet were positioned, Rita emulated the stance, feeling it out and getting her bearings as the same swing came in, and this time she blocked it without ending up on the deck. Pushing back, she tried to redirect her opponent’s blade, but once it started moving she had no idea where to go with it, so instead she drove it wide then took a step back. “More like that?”

“Very nice. You might make a good pirate someday if you ever leave the ‘fleet.” Schwein pressed her attack with a backspin and backhanded swing, leaving herself exposed for counterattack. Missing the opening, Paris instead brought the point up and tried to see what would happen if she tried to keep the tip interposed.

“So I’m told, but I’m pretty dedicated- woo!” Rita sidestepped a downward swing before stumbling over a bench and going ass over teakettle, turning it into a clumsy roll that ended with her looking around for her dropped sword. “Okay, maybe not such a great pirate recruit after all...”

Schwein couldn’t help but laugh again as she gave Rita a hand up. “Everyone has to start somewhere, ja? Not all can be born a super-soldier medic like I was. Maybe we should call in Baron Volyx and have him join us. He’s a better teacher. Never killed any of his students either, ja?”

“Nein!” the pretty pilot countered as she dusted herself off and picked her sword up off the ground. “The lesson is only half of it, Baroness. I wanted to spend time with you as well. I like you- you’ve a good sense of humor, you’re inclusive, and even when I didn’t know anyone on the Hera you still took me along for a ride. And I really know nothing about you, except that you once commanded a pirate vessel, that you are a super soldier, which I have no idea what that means, and that you watch over the captain. But I know what I’ve learned of you so far I like, and if it’s all right with you, I’d rather fall on my ass learning a clumsy move or two with you.”

“In return, I can always offer you flight lessons...?” Paris offered, hoping that her offer wasn’t going to be poorly received.

Schwein nodded and sobered up a bit. It wasn’t often a ‘fleeter enjoyed her company. Perhaps it was because this one was a relic from a more untamed era more similar to her own upbringing. “Flight lessons… Those could come in handy. I’m good enough with most of the Artan ships if I have to, but my skills are in command and field medicine.”

She then hefted her half-lance and gripped each end in her hands. “As for being a super-soldier… I’m the leftovers of an experiment from escapees of the Eugenics War.” With a grunt, Schwein suddenly flexed and in one swift motion bent the weapon almost forty five degrees in one go. With another flex she bent it the rest of the way and had the hilt nearly touching the tip. She then tossed the ruined weapon to a nearby maid.

“Not the best steel, but that should at least give you an idea, ja?” Schwein nodded and headed back to the weapon rack to get another sword.

As for said relic of a bygone age, she stared gape-mouthed at the casual display of super strength. Clearly it wasn’t expected, and Paris made no effort to hide her amazement. “That’s... incredible, Baroness! I mean, I’ve read accounts and I know Kirk encountered the Botany Bay even in my day. But the Eugenics Wars were ancient history even then...”

Realizing that the pirate might not be terribly comfortable, Paris walked it back a bit. “I apologize, Baroness. I don’t mean to gawk, it’s just... incredible to see in person. I mean, Vulcans are strong, but nothing like that. The wonders of the universe never fail to surprise me.”

“Ah Vulcans… Ja, they are strong as well. I’m human though.” With that the Baroness thumped her chest, revealing just how small her boobs really were under all that piratical swag she was wearing. “That’s what saved me when my fleet was destroyed. I had enough in me after the Queen’s Desire was destroyed to get to an escape pod.”

Hefting the new weapon she had randomly picked up in one hand, she realized it was the claymore and dropped it back on the pile. “Ja… No killing the student, dummkopf…” she muttered as she looked for something a bit more fitting, picking up a somewhat already bent rapier instead.

The extradimensional explorer had more questions, as she was genuinely curious about the Queen’s Desire and how the Baroness had come to be altered so. But while they were getting to know one another, there was a time and place. Right now, she had asked for lessons in swordsmanship, and the pirate captain was obliging. Best to stick to one lane and go from there, she reasoned.

Fetching her sword, Rita set her trailing foot, set her balance and brought the point of the sword up. Then she glanced around to make sure she wasn’t about to trip over any nearby obstacles before meeting the Baroness’ eye.

“Ready when you are...” Rita braced, watching the feet and the weapon as she had been instructed. If there was one thing that could be said, Paris was nothing if not an eager student.

Schwein nodded and took up her stance again, swinging the rapier with practiced ease, her other hand behind her back. She made sure not to put any power into any of her attacks just in case though. “There are nine angles a sword can attack from. You need to know how to parry each angle. The hardest is a center stab. The rest are slashes from top, bottom, left, right, or angles in between. That is proper swordplay. You must know this if you are to know if someone will fight dirty. You can practice on dummies and with fleet instructors for years and never learn how to fight.”

After a few more parries and thrusts were traded, the Baroness spun around and with a roundhouse kick, ruffled Rita’s gold miniskirt before resuming her stance.

“Yeek!” The gold-clad cosmonaut squeaked as she recognized the tactic. “So while watching what the sword is doing, don’t ignore the fighter either, I get it,” she observed, testing a lunge to see how much trouble it would get her into. The Baroness was being patient and indulgent, so Rita figured she owed it to her to at least be bold and make mistakes.

“Ja, just like piloting, watch everything.” Schwein spun her rapier around Rita’s sword, redirecting it towards one of the botanical garden trees and slicing into one of the broad leaves. The lunge brought Rita closer to the Baroness so it was time for another lesson. She stepped even closer, wrapped her empty hand around the buxom woman’s waist, and gave her a quick kiss before giving her a push back.

“You entered my inner defense range. A sword has three ranges. Inner defense, effective use, and observation.” Holding her rapier out at arm’s length, she demonstrated. “Out to my hand is inner defense. From my elbow to the tip is the effective use range. Past that is observation range. Simple, ja?”

The cheerful chrononaut laughed musically at that. “You cheeky pirate!” she said as she blushed a bit, bringing her sword back around to apply what she’d just been taught. A clumsy feint fooled no one, but this time she didn’t overextend. Instead she came at the platinum-tressed pirate with a slash from the left, then an expected parry as she anticipated a return attack.

Schwein was grinning cheerfully now as she easily parried and offered a counter attack. “You know there’s an orgy tomorrow on floor sixty eight. We’re only short one person for sixty nine. Are you interested?”

“Ah... I, uhm, I mean.. “ Paris stammered as she retreated, blushing furiously. Holding up a hand, she lowered her sword.

“The modern universe has, ah, changed a little since my day,” the antique officer explained. “I’ve never... I mean, I’m not a prude or anything, I’ve just never... back in my day, it wasn’t...”

Schwein couldn’t help but burst out laughing, seemingly completely dropping her guard in the process. “No no… sixty eight plus one is sixty nine. Sex joke, ja?”

“Well, I mean, sure, I got that part. That one’s older than I am!” Paris laughed as she tried a right slash, planning to bring it around as she had seen her instructor do a moment before. “Ahhhhaaa, another element? Keep your opponent off guard?”

Schwein leaned away from the slash, all business again. “Ja, the mind game is important as well. I’ve seen the Prinzessin win just with a death glare.” Parrying a few more swings, she started a semi-casual series of feints that looked like they would go for a strike but never actually touched Rita’s sword. She then finally made an actual attack towards the leggy navigator’s backside.

Lost in the feints and confused by all of the activity, the nubile navigator caught the flat of the blade fully on her rounded rear, making her yelp like a puppy whose tail had been stepped on. In a split-second decision, since the Baroness was in close, Rita threw a punch at her opponent’s jaw with her free hand.

The pirate blinked in surprise as she stepped back. She had barely felt it and Rita probably hurt herself more than the genetically engineered Baroness, but it actually made contact and caught her off guard, to boot. “Nicely done. Your hand is ok, ja?”

Genuinely surprised that her impetuous attack had connected, it took a moment for Rita to realize the result. “Your jaw’s like a rock!” The anachronism exclaimed as she shook and flexed her fingers. “I didn’t think that would work- are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Schwein replied, rubbing the opposite side of her jaw.

“How about I take you up on that drink?” Paris offered, looking to defuse the situation. After the woman had been so patient with her, Rita felt badly about clocking her one. All of which was clearly written across her face, as subtlety was not a large portion of the Paris vernacular.

“You’re doing well if you can actually hit me already. Before long I think you’ll be a match for most fresh pirates, ja?” The Baroness grinned and nodded. “But I think a drink may be in order for your first lesson. Maids! Bring us drinks and some of those egg and avocado bites!”

As the Baroness headed back towards the bar and set the rapier back on the rack, the maids set themselves to work. “Yes, miss, right away.” One of them turned to Rita to take her order. “We have a wide range of fruit based drinks on tap locally, but can get any other drink from any other floor if you prefer. Would you like to see a menu or do you have a preference already, miss?”

It had been so long that she had avoided alcohol, because in proximity what affected her tended to affect Sonak. And he didn’t exactly consider poisoning and mentally inhibiting oneself to be recreational. But Sonak wasn’t here. She’d had some wine with the Captain and the world hadn’t ended, so why not indulge a little?

“Cabernet Sauvignon, if you please,” Rita ordered with authority. The most basic of basic California blonde white girl drinks, it amused Rita that lightyears from home and hundreds of years distant, her basic drink order was now exotic. Gently placing the long sword back in the rack, she moved to take a seat beside the Baroness.

“I have to admit, you are not at all what I expected, Baroness. I mean, not that I had expectations one way or another, but you’re a surprising woman.” Conversation was a more familiar territory, although Rita suspected the pirate would likely have continued for as long as the plucky pilot had been willing.

As the maids scrambled to find a bottle of the requested wine, Schwein grinned wider. “People are people, ja? Everyone has hopes and dreams. Some of us have just seen more bad than good.” Sitting down at the bar, she sipped at her fresh pint of cider and popped one of the hors d'oeuvres into her mouth.

After another minute, a maid finally arrived with a dusty bottle of wine with wax seals marked with the year 2309. As the maid offered it to Rita for inspection, she offered details on it. “We hope this meets with your approval. The white grapes of 2309 in southern California were particularly delectable that year. If this is acceptable, I will prepare a glass for you immediately.”

Leaning in, Rita muttered conspiratorially to the Baroness. “I’m not, ah, raiding the important wine cellars here, am I?” With a shrug for a reply, Paris proceeded. “Please and thank you.”

Settling in, the explorer followed the conversation. “So... I take it you’ve known more bad than good, Baroness?” The question wasn’t a challenge, just an inquiry. But the only way Paris learned anything was by asking, and this seemed as good a time as any to probe out the former pirate captain.

As the maid fetched a glass, wiped down the bottle, popped the cork and let the bottle breathe a moment while resting in a bucket of ice, Schwein began talking.

“I guess it depends on your definition of good and bad… But yah, probably.” Schwein popped another of the egg things into her mouth and chewed a bit. “I’ve seen more death than most people ten times my age. Haven’t fallen in love yet. First time taking a life was at the orphan colony I was created at when it was destroyed by the Syndicate. The Prinzessin saved me and I’ve been with the Artan family ever since.”

Given that the woman was apparently the same age, Paris wasn’t sure how to react. So, in her own inimitable style, she forged ahead, ever onward. After all, as Captain Stuart had once observed, Paris always seemed to be charging forward or gingerly backing away.

“So that’s how you met the Captain? She saved you?” A gentle and obvious riposte, but one that might succeed, she reasoned.

The maid monitoring the wine bottle nodded and finally poured Rita a glass of wine, sliding the glass in front of Rita and replacing the cork and returning the bottle to the ice. Taking the offered glass, Rita took a sip, found it to be a surprising taste of home, then drained it at a draught before sliding it back to the maid for a refill, which she promptly provided. As long as they could supply it and Rita would drink it, the maids would do so.

“Ja,” the Baroness grinned ear to ear, obviously gearing up for a bit of a tale as she turned to Rita, one hand punctuating the air as she spoke.

“There I was, fighting for my life against three Syndicate goons. Stabbed two of them to death with a dull spoon but the third got me with a disruptor. I wasn’t out yet though. I still had my spoon and fighting spirit. As I got back to my feet, the syndicate ship came into view and my heart sank. Just then, a pirate sloop flew by. One of the old stealthy ones. Blasted it to pieces. While the last goon was distracted, I gutted him with my spoon.” The Baroness pantomimed gutting someone with a spoon as she made some sound effects before proceeding. “Even if they were all dead though, I knew I wasn’t long for this life if those pirates weren’t going to take me in. What pirate would?”

She waggled a finger at Rita, her exposed eye narrowing. “I was wrong though. That sloop came down and extended a ramp and there in this golden light was the strongest looking teen girl you’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes could have bored holes in neutronium. She said one thing to me- ‘Come with me if you want to live.’ I did. When she turned to go back inside, her blue and gold cape billowing behind her, I followed.”

For her part, Rita sat spellbound listening to the tale of high adventure. The Baroness was a good storyteller, and when the pirate was finished, as indicated by a long fraught of cider, Rita considered. “Huh. She kind of collects people, doesn’t she? The Captain, I mean. Saves them from dire circumstances, then adopts them?”

“Ja, she does. She has a big heart. She saved Captain Magnus from the slave mines when she was eight. Now he runs the Artan family while she’s in Starfleet. Not too many take a liking to that, but he’s good at it so not many complaints.” Taking another drink, Schwein paused a moment to think back. “I think most of her original crew before her Trill Defense Force days were refugees and rescues she had made herself. I was her gunner and first mate for a while.”

That rang true with the extradimensional explorer, as she herself had been rescued by the Captain from a fate worse than death, trapped as a sentient energy ghost after being hurled through time, space and dimension.

“So the Artans are pirates that prey on other pirates? More like privateers than pirates, if I recall my military history correctly?” It was a bit divergent, but since the conversation had swung that way, Paris chose to pursue another topic she did not understand, since the genial pirate was so generously forthcoming.

Schwein nodded. “It’s part of our code. Only pirate other pirates, preferably those that piss off innocents or have bounties or Syndicate scum. Also, any squabbles or questions of honor or rank are settled with duels to first blood. There are a few other things but those are the two main ones.”

“I don’t know if we had such things where I came from, or when,” Paris admitted. “But it sounds like the Syndicate are just as slimy here, with no love lost,” she concluded. Eyeing the cyber-eyed pirate, Paris changed course yet again. “May I ask you a personal question, Baroness? Not that these have not been impersonal in nature...”

“Ja, you may.” Schwein tipped her pint towards Rita before finishing it off.

“All these years, all these adventures you must have had... a woman like you must have had suitors. But you’ve never known love?” Rita, despite being so career oriented, had never lacked for interested parties, given her looks and build. But she understood that love could be elusive. Yet the Baroness was so garrulous and outgoing, it surprised her that the dynamic woman had never known the bloom of the heart.

“Hard to find love when everyone is afraid to die during petit morte,” the Baroness replied as she popped two more of the hors d'oeuvres into her mouth.

“Ah, how’s that work?” Rita asked, her ongoing curiosity piqued.

Schwein looked over at Rita like she had grown a second head. “I crushed a man’s thighs while orgasming. He almost died. Not good for love, ja?”

“Oh.... OH! The whole super strength thing. But that isn’t all or nothi-“ The leggy Lieutenant paused to facepalm. “Right. Involuntary muscle reflex. Sonak has to be so careful with me because...” Again, she caught herself, took a long draught off her wine and amended her statement. “Used to. He used to have to be careful with me because I was so much weaker and less durable than he was. He said it added to our intimacy.”

A miserable expression settled on the pretty pilot’s face, which she washed away with the rest of her second glass of wine on an empty stomach. When she set the glass down, she asked the logical question.

“Is there no one else like you? Or a sturdy enough personage out there who can...” Paris waved her hand idly in a circular motion, “withstand your amorous attentions?”

“I’m sure there are somewhere. Finding them is the hard part. Races with strength close to mine aren’t common here. Holosuite even has trouble.” Schwein slid the plate of egg and avocado bites over to Rita. “Try one? You need food and they’re good. Fresh grown.”

Idly, Paris picked up one of the finger foods and nibbled at it half-heartedly. “I don’t suppose they are. Wait, what about photonic folks? That seems like it would be safer and they could keep up with you?” The wine already working it’s magic, Paris was moving into offering unasked for advice, trying to solve what she perceived as a problem in her new friend’s life.

Schwein motioned to the maids tending to the bar. “They seem real to you, ja? Like living, breathing people? I see fields of energy and lines of code. That one is 42975. That one is 77694. The one at the door is 99324. The ones aboard the Hera are much more complex, but I see them the same way thanks to my eye.”

“That... yeah. I mean, they do, the ones that I have met. It took a little getting used to the idea, but I’ve met lifelike androids and energy beings- hell, I’ve been one myself. So this wasn’t a huge stretch for me,” Paris admitted. “But I’m only human. I can’t see what you see.”

The pirate chuckled softly. “I’m technically human as well. A human augment with a tricorder in her head… but still human.”

“I meant no offense, Baroness,” the tipsy time traveler backpedaled. “Just that I’m... only the base factory model. I didn’t mean to imply... honestly, I assume everyone serving aboard the Hera comes from somewhere other than Earth. It’s... I am still adapting. Trying to, at least.” With that she finished off her first hors d'oeuvre and gingerly picked up a second. “I meant no disrespect.”

“No offense taken. I’ve never seen Earth, so no worries, ja?” The pirate chuckled again as she sipped her drink. “As for the rest of the crew, I think three crewmen listed their homes as Earth. None were human. I don’t know if that’s normal for ‘fleet ships.”

“I wouldn’t know, in the modern day. Definitely not back in my day, but that was a dozen decades ago,” The buxom beauty shrugged, a seismic motion. “Back then the crew was 99% human. Now I’m the 1%.”

“Seems everything has changed so much, and everything I knew is wrong. You know they changed the warp speed scale?” The lost navigator chuckled mirthlessly at that as she took another sip of wine, then fell silent, staring into her glass, lost in reverie.

“Ja… Pain calibrating all our old systems to it every time we salvage something. Everyone used a different scale before the new one. All different. Trill warp fourteen is Earth warp nine is Kzinti warp eleven…” The Baroness shook her head and munched on another of the egg and avocado bites. “At least now we all know who has best bragging rights in the pub.”

“Yeah...” Paris agreed absently before she returned to the moment. “I should probably go, I’m sure I have something I should be doing. Thank you, Baroness, for the lesson and the conversation.” As she rose, a small wistful smile settled on the face of the outdated officer. Reaching over, she patted the super soldier on the shoulder.

“I hope you find the person who‘s looking for you, Baroness,” Rita offered honestly. “You seem a good sort, and you deserve someone in your life.”

“You as well. I’ll see you for your next lesson when you’re ready.” The pirate smiled up at the buxom lass and… winked? Maybe she blinked. It was hard to tell with pirates in eye patches.

“Yeah... thanks, Baroness,” the melancholy maiden muttered. Lost in all the feelings she had stirred up, Rita Paris wandered off at a far more casual pace than her usual ground-eating stride, to be alone with her memories of another place and time, and a love lost she could never replace.

Schwein hadn’t asked her guest really any questions at all, she realized. Ah well, she’d have to make a point of that next time. She knew ‘fleeters enjoyed that sort of thing and since she was on a ‘fleet ship a lot now, she did need to make that effort a bit more often.

For now though, she’d sit here once again lost in the memories of the things she’d lost over the short years she’d been alive.