"Bridge."

Sonak adjusted his blue and black uniform and gave it a last look over for anything that would deter from a perfect appearance as the lift shot up towards the uppermost deck of the Hera. When the door wooshed open, he stepped out and stopped to take in the entirety of the command center of the ship.

The Nebula class starship saucer section was basically identical to the similar primary hull of a Galaxy class; Sonak expected to see a vast carpeted curving expanse with ops and helm in front of a gigantic viewer and stations arcing back and around them on an elevated tier, a softly curving ramp from where he stood framing the three chairs of the command station and the security and tactical station, including communications, just above and behind them.

Instead, he stepped into a much more compact command center with sharper angles and several successive levels from the command dais to a joined helm and ops forward stations, reminescent of his old USS Exeter Constitution refit. Seating were available all around for twelve crew but there were enough consoles for fifteen. To the left of the captain's chair the station was dedicated to Intel ops and had a console just like the XO one on the opposite side of the command seat. All the stations behind those were for Tactical. Those on the starboard wall were clearly for Engineering while those portside wall were Science; where he would be called to work when on bridge duty.

That reminded him that all stations could be set up to use limited view angle and tactile feedback modifications. He made a mental note to leave a message to the Intel chief to activate these modifications for him.

As the ship was docked and on blue mode, there was no one on duty here but one junior officer. The man straightened up upon seing the two pips on his collar. Sonak simply nodded to him to signify that he should resume his duties and walked to the left side from the lift doors where another door was framed between the last wall console and the viewer. This he assumed was the entrance to the office of the commanding officer of the ship; what they refered to in this day and age as the captain's ready room.

According to the computer and the duty roster of the day, she was in her office at this very moment. Regulations dictated that, upon his arrival, he should report to command of the installation upon which he was assigned. His meeting with Rita had skewed this timetable a bit, but since she was the first officer, protocol allowed for this delay. But he could not ignore the woman he was about to serve under, be it out of basic courtesy.

Standing at attention, he pushed the chime button and waited for permission to enter.

"Come in," called the spotted captain, clicking off her desk terminal and leaning back in her chair. Seeing the Vulcan on the other side of the door as it opened, a hint of a smile crept onto her face. "Just the person I was looking forward to seeing. May I offer you some tea? My wife made a thermos of Iridonian spice tea this morning and it's customary to share it."

Sonak stepped in and went right before her, standing straight with hands behind his back.

"Lieutenant Sonak, reporting as assistant chief science officer. I am gratified to make your acquaintance, Captain Telvan. I come to serve."

Pouring a second teacup of the hot tea, she set it before him.

He bowed to accept her offered tea cup.

" I have not yet sampled this beverage. Thank you, Captain. I will put this in my personal log as my first exploration under your command."

"Please, have a seat and tell me something that's not in your file." As the spotted woman sipped her own tea, she eyed the Vulcan expectantly over the rim.

" I have resumed my previous personal relationship with Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, currently your first officer," he said as if he was making a routine report.

Yet, as he said it, the grey of his eyes for a moment flashed as if some light from within had briefly lighted.

Enalia nodded slightly. "Perhaps I should amend my request to something that isn't in your records or blatantly obvious." Setting aside her cup of tea for the moment, she thought carefully how to phrase her next question. "The past two months for Rita and the past two years for you apart must have been difficult. Do you intend to do anything special for your reunion? Do you need anything from me?"

"I would not presume to ask anything of a personal nature from my commanding officer," he said with what immediately felt as his usual even tone. "That could be construed as looking to entice favoritism; not conductive to good starship discipline. As a Starfleet officer, I cannot expect nor request this."

He put his tea cup before him and extended his index fingers together before him.

"As a Vulcan, I have no need of any special treatment despite our unusual and recent... history; the past is in the past and resolved; the future is to be taken as it comes. If we are allowed to remain together under your command, this future looks promising for the both of us... and ideally, to you and this ship as well. Lieutenant Commander Paris is an exceptionally gifted individual and a most efficient officer. And I hope to prove my worth to you as well in our next mission.As far as I am concerned, your tolerance of our relationship is quite sufficient."

He locked his gaze to hers.

" That being said, Lieutenant Commander Paris however is Human. She has different needs, needs that logic and discipline may not satisfy. And her needs are... important to me. Respectfully, Captain, I shall therefore refer you to her in any such matters."

"Indeed, a logical course of action," Enalia replied, resting her hands in her lap. "I need the two of you to move into the XO quarters next to mine once renovations are complete. It should be finished later today. They're a bit bigger than your current quarters and have an extra room. I know she's made mention of how colorless and big the rooms are so do you think she would be opposed to that?"

"I would estimate with a satisfying degree of certainty that she will definitely appreciate the offer," he replied with a nod." And if this is helpful to you and the running of the ship, the move is most logical. As for environmental colors, I would say it is a trivial matter. She is well able to color life itself."

Enalia chuckled softly as she resumed sipping at her tea. "That's one of the things I like about her. Anything the two of you need for the move, please let engineering know before we leave the Fortress. If it's something special, let my wife know and she can probably get it fairly easily."

"Thank you, captain. I will pass this opportunity to her. She will most certainly makes the best of it."

"Now, about you specifically. What are your goals while aboard this vessel? Career or otherwise." Enalia was interested to know if he'd mention only career goals or family ones as well.

He took a short moment to collect his toughts.

"Reuniting with my Thy'la has been my sole goal for more than the last two years. now that this is achieved, I am resuming my relationship with her and, as had been the case before, I let her chart the course and provide relevant data for her to do so. I am a scientist and she is after all an excellent navigator."

He again placed his cup before him and brought his forefingers together before his lips in a pensive pose before continuing.

"In my original time and universe, I was an experienced Starfleet officer captaining one of the Federation's capital ships; and the last remaining kolinarh master of an endangered species uprooted from it's destroyed homeworld. But this is all over. Now, I am here, in a time more than a century beyond mine; in another universe. Here, my homeworld, my people and my masters are not only alive but prosperous. Having no longer the whole responsibility of preserving it all, I am free to fully resume a career in Starfleet. Doing it alongside my chosen companion is both added incentive and benefit. Serving under you is providing this opportunity."

He then looked at the transparency through wihch could be seen what laid outside the ship. But his grey eyes seemed to look even beyond that.

"I am a scientist, Captain. I want to discover what is out there, learn, understand, grow from that and help others along the way. What you would call love, relationships, most importantly my relationship with Rita, Lieutenant Commander Paris, is now a central and defining part of this. And so, my goal is too explore the possibilities."

Now he looked back at her.

"As wisdom would have it however, I do not try to know all the answers, but, at least, to understand the questions."

There was a moment of silence as she was obviously pondering his words. He finished his tea and then straightened in his chair.

"Does that answer your question adequately, Captain? Or is there something else you would like to ask?"

"You know, I think we'll get along well. Understanding the question is the first step in focussing on the solution." Enalia nodded solemnly. "I can't think of anything else. Do you have any questions for me?"

He paused for a moment before looking at her with unblinking eyes.

"The exact mission of the Hera is classified. Of course, I am not asking you to discuss anything that is restricted for someone of my rank and position abaord your ship. But I am understandably curious."

"Our exact orders are still being discussed with Intel Command as well, but if you've heard the rumors I can confirm them. The aliens that played the roles of ancient pagan gods across many systems, most notably Earth, are returning and we're expected to play a role in discovering why they're back and dissuade them from taking a major role in galactic politics. Our recent interactions with Hermes, Danu, Odin, and Odin's crows are proof of this."

His left eyebrow shot up.

"Indeed? Fascinating. I do recall reading about 23rd century history here about an incident on planet Pollux IV involving the starship Enterprise with the Terran Greek god Apollo; and another involving that same ship with an alien starship and the Aztec god Kukulcan, also of Earth. Considering the multitude of interactions with powerful cosmic entities like the Q, the Dhoud, the Caretakers, the Prophets, the Metrons and the Organians, such confrontations seem to be... what is the quolloquialism again? Ah yes; written in the stars."

He took a brief pause before adding:

"Since this is allegedly what this ship will be involved with, I shall endeavor to familiarize myself more with Terran mythologies and, if time permits, a few others from the major cultures in our quadrant. I would think my first duty aboard has been now defined... if you say so, captain."

"Thank you. If there's nothing else, I have a lot of transfer orders left to sort through." Enalia glanced back at her desk terminal, not really looking forward to all the paperwork she had to do.

Sonak stood up at attention, hands behind his back.

"I shall report to the chief science officer presently; by your leave, Captain."

"Dismissed," Enalia replied with a nod.

"Thank you, Captain."

Sonak nodded back and left.

McBain had returned to his quarters to change out of his uniform. He had checked with medical and counseling only to find both areas were busy. So he was on his way to spend the a few hours on the base and see for himself what he had heard about. As he approached his door he saw a slightly awkward person going to the door left of his. LtCommander Paris had asked him to meet and work with his neighbor to get them ready for away missions. McBain walked over "excuse me? Lieutenant Asa Dael?" He smiled easily "I am Ensign McBain, I was told you were to be the away team medic. I am under orders to help get you up to speed." He offered his hand to shake "do you have sometime to talk?"

Asa jumped slightly. They had been so focused musing on the information the Captain had given in their first meeting, they hadn’t seen anyone in the hall. They took the proffered hand and responded, “Yes, absolutely,” in what they hoped was a serene calm response.

Opening the door to their quarters, they gestured Ensign McBain inside and asked “Can I get you anything? I picked up a great recipe for Horchata in the academy.”

McBain followed them inside, he was about to say 'no, he was fine'. That was until she mentioned the sweet milk and rice drink with cinnamon. He nodded "Sure, thank you. I honestly love cinnamon. I don't eat much Mexican food because I am not into 'hot and spicey' foods." He smiled easily "Don't be horrified but I put cinnamon and brown sugar on my mild chili." He was inside the door maintaining a polite distance as he always tried to achieve. He knew his size could be seen as intimidating and tried to avoid making other people uncomfortable. "I have not been briefed on our next mission as yet but could you tell me something about your experience in the field? I just would like to know how much you know so I know where to begin helping you prepare." They outranked him so he was trying to be respectful of their rank. Somehow saying he was 'to train them' seemed out of place?

Asa motioned at a seat for McBain while preparing Horchata. "Hey, if it pleases you to put cinnamon on chili, go for it. People always thought I was nuts for putting bacon in oatmeal. And my field experience? That's easy, none. Fresh out Starfleet Medical, me. So take it from square one, sound good?"

Asa brought the drinks over, sat down in the other chair, and grabbed a PaDD to take notes on, preparing for the other to speak. They smiled up at him with the promise of learning in their eyes.

"None. Well I guess we start with a simple list of plus and minus? So I will ask you about a trait and just say yes for a plus, that would be something you are good at. The flip side would be a no, for a minus, as something you need to work on."

McBain got out a PaDD of his own. "Remember this is not a pass/fail sort of thing. I really need you to be honest as well. Now than, how is your stamina? Can you run far, or fast. Fast would be under five seconds in a forty yard dash. Far would be say two miles in like twelve minutes."

"Far- plus. Fast- neutral?" Asa replied, a bit unsure. They knew they could run for long distances, that had been part and parcel of life on Bajor. As for fast- they considered themself average, but had honestly never tested it over much.

McBain showed no opinion but he marked down her reply and asked his next question. "Now than how is your ability to sort of hide? Do you think you could blend into a crowd to avoid pursuit?"

"Minus," they replied, thinking of their awkward giraffe gait and too-androgynous-for-most-societies appearance.

McBain nodded, "no worries we can work on that. How fast are you on a computer search? Let me explain please. If we say must slip into a hospital, get into a computer and find the antidote for some obscure poison. Are you skilled at getting straight to the objective. Pulling the information and say learning where the antidote is kept." It was a sort of hypothetical question but the way he asked suggested he had been in just that sort of circumstance.

"You don't graduate Starfleet medical without learning how to function under a time crunch," Asa replied with a grin. "Plus."

"Excellent point." McBain had sipped his drink while he listened. "Okay how is your marksmenship and basic combat skills? Are you better with a pistol, rifle, thrown knife, or just close in combat?" McBain made eye contact "maybe more important will you be able to enter into lethal combat if it comes down to that." He smiled sadly, his eyes showing compassion. "It happens Lieutenant, I need to know your skills for sure but I also need to know you can handle the situation. If you would be a liability I need to know for the safety of everyone."

"I'm more comfortable with ranged weapons. My strengths are not physical. I actually flunked hand to hand my first time through. I became a doctor to save lives. That said, I've seen what happens when the wrong people hold power, and I know one life saved can cost more down the road."

Asa sipped their drink slowly, gathering their nerves and glancing at the two photos on their desk, sadness evident in their face.

"If it comes to it, I'm ready." There was a hint of Steele in the doctors voice this time.

"Well, lets hope we are good enough to avoid those situations just the same." He spoke lightly trying to recover the lighter mood. "So pistol?" McBain asked curiously.

“Phaser really. I can shoot traditional Earth firearms in a pinch, but I had more experience with a phaser-like weapon growing up shooting vermin,” Asa replied.

McBain finished his drink "Okay Lieutenant I think we have a place to begin. I would like you to spend a half hour a day in the holodeck with me working on various scenarios to speed up your reflexes. Work on your weapons skills and maybe even torture you a bit with some hand to hand stuff." McBain laughed, lightly but with real humor. "No worries nothing heavy, just a few tricks that might help you escape a bad situation." He stood offering them his cup. "I do have one question for you though. Since we will be working together and in the field using rank is not a good idea. What do you prefer to be called?"

“Asa works for me. If we are in a situation where formalities are required, either Myx Dael or Doctor work, but overall, Asa is just great. Thanks for asking. And you?”

"Me? Oh McBain, Raymond, my pilot call-sign was 'Frosty'? I will answer to whatever you call me, I am mostly used to just McBain," He laughed "but hey jackass was not uncommon back in the day." McBain was smiling as he looked to the door, "I guess medical is fairly backed up as I could not get an appointment for my baseline. I guess I should wait till after that to begin our training?" He revealed a slight anxiousness about getting his report-in steps complete.

“Oh, I can do that. Are you available tomorrow at 0900 hours? Shouldn’t take more than a half hour,” Asa replied. “And then you can train me until I beg you to stop.”

McBain nodded smiling "tomorrow at 0900hrs is great. I don't think we need to train till you say 'uncle' but a couple hours should suffice. Maybe run through a hologram mission to see what you might be in for." McBain stopped at her door, "after training if you would like we can discuss the training over lunch?"

Asa smiled, "Only if you make me some of your chili."

At least it wasn’t the transporter room again.

Amongst the duties of the First Officer of the USS Hera was included greeting onboarding new transfers. As the more social of the command duo, Captain Telvan preferred to have her anachronistic ‘Number One’ meet and greet the onboarding officers checking into the command. Which was a duty Rita Paris was happy to discharge, so long as it didn’t involve a trip to the transporter room.

Today it was the new Sec/Tac chief, whose record was sealed for command level only. Which might have bothered the pretty pilot, but one had to expect a certain level of secrecy and subterfuge when it came to working with Starfleet Intelligence. Now that she dwelled in the shadows on a ship that resembled a shapely inky shadow of a starship, sealed personnel files were a minor inconvenience at best. The important thing, to Rita’s mind, was that the command made the proper impression on the newcomer, that they felt welcomed and valued, and that they knew where to go and what to do.

At least this time she had a name and rank to work with.

Pacing slowly back and forth on the deck inside the docking hatch, Paris tapped away at the tablet in her hand even as she had another one tucked under her arm. While she waited, she was, as ever, filing reports and staying on top of paperwork. For a woman whose improvisational skills were considered her strong point, Paris found paperwork easy and simple to maintain… mostly because she spent so much time staying on top of it.

Pacing three measured steps, Paris about-faced and continued, marching slowly back and forth until she heard the outer airlock register a contact. As they were docked at the moment, the hatches were open, so she parked both PaDDs on her hip, turned to face the newcomer and brought up a smile that could have made her a model had she not been so hellbent on exploring the galaxy.

Finally, thought Seregon. She looked through the entry point and saw the lovely glow of her new home. As she handed the padd to a security officer. He looked at her with a sly smile. He didn't say anything as a woman stood not far away, and she looked important enough to not be caught by her giving the newbies a hard time, or coming on to a new officer..he pointed and she followed his lead. As she stepped through the opening and walked over to the full figured beauty of a woman. "Hi, I'm Seregon French, reporting for duty!" And she stuck out her hand forgetting that she needed to salute.

The leggy lieutenant commander looked at the outstretched hand, looked up to make eye contact with those striking green eyes. A broad grin spread over the face of the blonde with the tomboy haircut as she stepped in and took the offered hand in a proper handshake. "Finally? Somebody in the future who knows what a handshake is?"

Pumping it twice, the unconventionally-uniformed officer then released French's hand, as that grin became a full-fledged smile. "My daddy always said that you could tell everything about a man from his handshake. All of his character was contained in it- the way they stand, where their eyes are, their posture, whether the grip is limp, firm or one of those overcompensating bone-crushers. That handshake was one of the few I've actually managed in all of these meeting, and it was a pretty darn good handshake."

"I'm Rita Paris, First Officer of the Hera. Welcome aboard, Lieutenant French. Very nice to meet you. Already did permission to come aboard with security, I hope?" the statuesque star sailor solicited.

Without hesitation French chimed in. "Yes, that big gorgeous hunk of a man back there saw my orders and directed me to you." As they released hands, she spoke again. "I hope your daddy felt the same way about us woman." French exclaimed and smiled right back at her. From her waist down, Frenches outfit was Pure Black. Anyone who knew could tell it was the lower half of an Intelligence cat suit. Covered by a Dark Blue jacket that was neither proper of improper the way she wore it, and that Red Hair of hers, but there was no rule that she knew of saying that you had to report in proper uniform. After all, a girl wore what she could whilst traveling, and she wouldn't be on duty until after she was cleared by the ships doctor. At least those were her instructions before she left Fleet.

French waited and took it all in. This welcome was one of the best she had that she could think of. Everybody seemed so warm and friendly.

"Daddy was a terrible misogynist, so all of his little sayings tended to be along that line. But yes, Miss French, I believe a lot can be said from a handshake. Shall we?" Paris gestured to the interior of the starship, then began walking at a rather rapid pace. "I have to admit I'm a little jealous. Back in my day Navigation handled the ship to ship weaponry, and the Hera's systems look very advanced. How was your trip?"

"To be honest, I was so excited about getting back to work, I'd have to say. Better than average. Having been out of action for a while now. A lot changes in two years." She said thinking how much did she really want to reveal at this early meeting. After all she needed to shore up the confidence of those around her, and that was her first priority. Making sure she still had it. Whatever IT was. She thought as they made their way through the corridor.

"I got trapped as a warp ghost for almost five years. After they rescued me I cracked up, spent two years in Starfleet psych. So, whatever kept you out of action, I might have ya beat," Paris offered with a grin. "I think you'll like the command. The Hera gets into interesting scrapes and situations, the Captain's unique and just in case you're curious, no, this isn't the standard uniform of the day," Paris gestured to her vintage Starfleet mod minidress uniform with a wry smile.

"Hey no matter what anybody has to say, you wearing that uniform girl!" Said French with a head sway and an old fashioned finger snap just for emphasis on her comment! "After all, it's nice and refreshing to see someone do their own thing. This outfit I'm wearing provides me with two things. Confidence and warmth. Both I need right now in fair amounts. But let there be no mistake, when you need me, I'll be right there. Win lose or draw," offered French.

"Well, it is my uniform, just not the standard for the Hera," Paris explained. It was pretty clear that the Sec/Tac chief was nervous, and this was a 'getting back on the horse' moment for her. Rita had tried to commiserate, but it didn't seem like it gotten through. So, a little reassurance. "It has never been regulation in my experience that you have to check into your command in uniform, so if your outfit choice works for you it works for me, Ms. French. As far as you being there when we need you, I never had any doubt. chief. You're Starfleet- it's what we do."

Flipping one of the PaDDs around, she inspected it, then handed the other one to the newly-arriving officer. "Here's your welcome aboard package, including your quarters assignment, maps of the Hera, limited computer access and some appointments to keep. You need to check into the command in order to have full access, so that means a meeting with the first officer, a meeting with the captain, a physical and a session with the ship's counselor. Once everyone signs off, you'll be checked into the command, and be granted full access for active duty."

"Thank you, and don't think I don't realize that you are rooting for me. I still read between the lines and I appreciate the pep talk, XO. I know without asking I can come to you if I need to talk, girl to girl!" And Seregon took the padd she was being handed and smiled back at her very attractive XO. "I'll make all my appointments as soon as possible because I want to get back to work. I've been gone too long, but you never forget your training!" She said with confidence.

"I actually prefer First Officer, if it's all the same. Never cottoned to being called the XO somehow," the curvaceous commander explained. "And relax, French. Take a breath, all right? No pressure. Yes, you can girl talk me, or you can professional talk me- it's part of my job, and we're shipmates, so I'm happy to be here for you. Apparently we're going to be going into some dark and scary places, so I'm glad you're coming along, believe me. You know much about these MACO suits they outfit us with for away missions these days?"

"MACO's." And a slight smile came to her face. "Yes, I've worked with them before. It seems like a life time ago. But I was on a Space Station called Aurora, and it was taken over by the Breen. The MACO's attempted to take it back. They almost did. But things went pair shaped when Breen reinforcements showed up. So the Lt In charge Hayes, gave to detonate ordered for the self destruct system and took out several Breen, a few of their ships and even a few MACOs in the process. They are bad ass. And a lot of fun when you get to know them!." She said with a smile.

Interesting story to be so cheerful about, Paris thought, but outwardly she stopped at the turbolift and tabbed the up button. "I was more specifically referring to their gear and equipment- I was wondering if you were familiar witht he operation of the hardshell armor suits. But no matter, we might all learn together, hm?" The turbolift arrived, and the vintage edition Starfleet officer stepped in, expecting French to be behind her as she turned and called, "Deck 8, please."

French stayed close and got on the turbo lift. "I'm not up to date on their equipment. But I do remember what they are like off duty. I'm sure that never changes." And she giggled as the turbo lift door closed.

"I wouldn't know. Never served with Marines, and we don't have any onboard," Paris explained as the lift arrived at its destination on Deck 8 and the doors slid open. Stepping out into the corridor, Paris' long legs began that martial stride again, apparently assuming that the security chief was keeping up as she spoke. "Just their gear. You might want to add scheduling a meeting with Ensign McBain to get fitted and qualified in the suits, as you're going to be called upon for away missions and you will need to be familiar. I assume you're checked out and qualified with all of the latest weaponry and such, and there won't be any surprises on our end in the field?"

"By the time I've finished my meetings, I'll be up to scratch on everything pertinent to my position and ready to perform all tasks assigned to me." Seregon said with confidence, wondering where they were going but not wanting to ask.

"I will be interested to see that eventuality," Paris replied in a somewhat uncharacteristic speech pattern. Stopping, she pointed to the doorplate. "It seems we've arrived, Lieutenant French. Welcome to your quarters, here at the outer rim of what the locals call 'Officer Country'. I've parked you not far from the turbolift for ease of access, and your next door neighbor is the inestimable Lieutenant Dauntless, the new Ops chief and a go-getter if ever there was one. You two should get to know one another. You might also consider looking up Ensign McBain- he is the Hera's new infiltration expert, and I'm certain he would want to exchange ideas and strategies with someone as experienced as yourself."

"So, any questions?" the first officer in the antique Starfleet uniform asked cheerfully.

"No questions, you have been most helpful. I look forward to our next conversation. Thank you First Officer Paris for your professionalism!" And she stuck out her hand again to shake good bye!

The first officer took the outstretched hand and shoot it, holding onto it as she spoke. "You're still pretty fractured, aren't you French? And you don't know how you're going to react... if you've still got it. You'll do fine- because your shipmates are counting on you." With that and a wink, Paris released the security chief's hand to stride off.

French smiled and turned her attention to her quarters and her new home.

Lieutenant Delilah Dauntless stepped out onto the flight deck of the USS Hera's shuttlecraft bay, and let out a deep, single breath. After having spent the last 72 hours aboard a cramped Arbazan passenger shuttle with its sub-par accommodations and unsophisticated crew, the privileged young woman had, at last, reached her destination. Delilah was pleasantly surprised to see that at least the Hera appeared to be a state-of-the-art vessel, as well as aesthetically pleasing to her eyes.

The spacious shuttlebay in which she now stood was sleek & sophisticated, a far cry from the dreary, dungeon-like confines of the glorified escape pod she'd arrived in. At both sides of the doors leading out of the shuttlebay were posted two strapping young Starfleet security officers, standing with their hands clasped behind their backs. Delilah glanced over at the security officer to her right, a tall, bald-headed Orion, who bore the rank of Petty Officer 2nd Class. The Orion security guard caught Delilah's eye, smiled warmly, and said, "Greetings. Welcome to the Hera."

"Did they forget to teach you how to address a superior officer, Mister?" Delilah asked coolly in an ethereal, child-like voice.

"I- er . . ." faltered the Orion, but Delilah immediately dismissed him with a wave and turned to the security man on her right -- a blue-skinned Andorian male, also a Petty Officer. Wisely, the Andorian enlisted man snapped to attention to show that he was all business.

"You," Delilah addressed the Andorian, her girlish voice taking on an annoyed tone. "Where do I find Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris?"

“That would be me,” answered a cheerful voice from behind her.

Turning, the newly-arrived Operations chief took in the sight of a tall humanoid female with a rather curvaceous figure who was clad, of all things, in a gold minidress that looked like it belonged in a history book. The only anachronism to the outfit that she could see were the two solid and one partial pip on the black angled neckline of her… uniform? On her left breast was an archaic Starfleet insignia, which had a comm badge reproduction of that angular emblem with the stylized starburst that over a century ago signified command.

As for the woman herself, bright blue eyes peered from a pretty face under a shock of short-cropped blonde hair, cut in an angular bob hairstyle that was at once functional yet fashionable. Where she had come from was unclear, but there she stood, a PaDD parked in a carry position on one hip. A warm smile graced her face as she extended her hand in greeting.

“Lieutenant Dauntless, I presume?” she asked in a friendly tone.

Delilah stiffened slightly as she laid eyes on the Hera's XO, determined to disguise any reaction to the lieutenant commander's unexpected appearance. Instead, Dauntless summarily snapped to attention, her manner business-like, even brusque. "Yes, Sir," came her crisp response in that odd, child-like voice. "Reporting for duty as Chief Operations Officer, Sir."

The petite young lieutenant stood smartly in her dress uniform, its starched stark-white fabric draped cleanly about her dainty, diminutive frame. Her jet-black hair had been pulled back tightly, arranged into a bun, giving a severe sensibility to her delicate features. Not a hair out of place. Not a wrinkle to be found. A pair of ice-blue eyes peered up at Paris, their gaze as chilly as the tone in her girlish voice.

The anachronism briefly eyed the outstretched hand, wondering why it seemed so hard for people in the future to grasp the concept of a handshake. With a slight raise of her brows, the lieutenant commander snapped to, returning the salute in precise military fashion. Dropping the salute, the gold-clad commander's face settled into a pleasant expression of patience, as if she were waiting for something.

As Dauntless likewise dropped the salute, her brow knitted in disapproval as she took in the Lieutenant Commander's outfit. "Is that... the Hera's service uniform, Sir?" Delilah asked, imagining what the provocative costume would look like on her pixie-like frame. The young lieutenant suppressed a stab of sudden alarm & shame, knowing she possessed neither the curves nor the legs pull it off.

The friendly first officer burst into a short laugh at that, and when she spoke, her voice never lost that jovial tone. "No, Miss Dauntless, this is not the uniform of the day for the officers of the Hera. It's a long story, but suffice to say that back in my day this is what we wore, and the Captain indulges that I'm comfortable in it. Why don't we skip that whole 'permission to come aboard' formality. I guess they don't teach that as military onboarding etiquette at the Academy anymore. Shall we proceed, Miss Dauntless?" Gesturing through the pressure door that separated the shuttle bay from the Hera's interior with a smile, the first officer invited the new ops chief aboard.

"Sir," Delilah nodded, as she followed the curvy commander out of the shuttle bay. The young lieutenant resented Paris' cheery comment on her faux pas in protocol. It didn't matter that the off-handed observation wasn't intended to offend. It still called attention to Dauntless' inexperience... inexperience that the 20 year-old herself derided as a glaring weakness.

"I expect you have questions about my suitability to this assignment, Sir," Delilah offered, her childish voice almost haughty with self-confidence. "I want to impress that you needn't worry about my age or level of experience. Starfleet would not have sent me here if I weren't eminently qualified for the job."

The long-legged lieutenant commander wasn't exercising a particularly martial stride as they moved into the Galaxy class saucer section of the Hera. Instead she was locomoting in long, slow paces, hips swiveling slowly as she did so, that PaDD still parked at her side. Looking down at the junior officer beside her with a bemused expression, the old-school officer slightly cocked an eyebrow. "Well, it's my opinion Starfleet wouldn't have sent you out here if you weren't eminently qualified for the job either, Miss Dauntless. But seeing as how you want to impress me with your age and experience level, what would you declare as your greatest weakness?"

"My... greatest weakness..." Delilah's brow furrowed again, and the callow officer bristled inwardly at the suggestion that she, one of the youngest persons to make lieutenant in the service's history, even had a weakness. "...I've heard it said that I can be... aloof, Sir," Delilah said at last. "At the Academy, I went out of my way to avoid unnecessary social interaction. I suppose some people could see that as a weakness, Sir."

"Excellent answer, Miss Dauntless," Lieutenant Commander Paris replied cheerfully. "I suppose that could potentially be a somewhat limiting factor in managing team dynamics and cooperative exercises. But I'm sure that running the department responsible for communication will help that along," the unconventionally uniformed officer observed as they arrived at the turbolift, whereupon she pressed the down button. "So what's your passion? What drove you out here to the edge of the unknown, on an Intel vessel no less? Not exactly the most conventional of assignment requests, I'd imagine."

"I expect I was chosen for this post, aboard this vessel, because of my scientific background," allowed Delilah, as she clasped her hands behind her back. "I'm an expert in information systems technology. I hold a masters degree in quantum cryptography from the Daystrom Institute of Technology. I imagine the Office of Starfleet Intelligence saw a use for those skills." Delilah couldn't help the slight smirk that unconsciously played upon her delicate features. "This tour of duty will give me the Starfleet service experience I need to qualify for acceptance into the Interdisciplinary Doctorate Program at the Vulcan Science Directorate's ShiKahr Academy. Once I complete that..." Delilah's ice-blue eyes narrowed reflexively, her dainty hands balling into fists behind her back. "...well, 'the sky's the limit', as they say."

"Mmmm. Ambitious," the retro throwback officer opined as she stepped into the turbolift, turning to insure that the new ops chief was in before she called out, "Deck 8. Not the answer to my question, but pretty impressive all the same."

It took no time to traverse two decks, and as the doors slid open once more the languid lieutenant kept up that casual rolling gait as she continued to chatter. "If you're interested in the ShiKahr Academy, the fellow that graduated at the top of your class just came aboard, you could look him up to ask him some pointers. I believe he's billeted as the assistant chief science officer," the buxom blonde offered solicitously.

"That really won't be necessary, Sir," the 20 year-old said with a start, her nose wrinkling as if having smelled something unpleasant. "I'd prefer to... limit... my interactions with the crew, to what's strictly necessary for the performance of my duties. Nothing more." Regaining her composure, Delilah's ice-blue eyes shot a meaningful look up at the taller blonde in vintage command gold. "Besides, Sir. I plan on being far too busy during off-hours to fraternize."

The younger woman's unnatural gaze briefly wandered across Paris' classic outfit again. Delilah's curiosity was piqued, she was forced to admit. However, she stopped herself from inquiring further about the commander's flirtatious yet flattering attire. Showing interest would invite further efforts at small talk... and small talk was a special kind of torture that Delilah took great pains to avoid.

Apparently the First Officer specialized in it.

"Interesting goal, Ms. Dauntless. But hey, the universe needs introverts too," the unrepentantly upbeat officer inadvertently offended as she expertly flipped the PaDD around to tap at it for a few seconds, then she flipped it around to offer it to her shipmate.

Clearly Paris spent a considerable amount of time with one in her hand, as well as delivering them to others. "Here's your welcome aboard package, including your quarters assignment, maps of the Hera, limited computer access and some appointments to keep. You need to check into the command in order to have full access, so that means a meeting with the first officer, a meeting with the captain, a physical and a session with the ship's counselor. Once everyone signs off, you'll be checked into the command, and be granted full access for active duty."

"Very good, Sir," Delilah nodded, already dreading the necessary up-coming meetings with three more command officers, before the day's business was done. She could do this. Just a few more, and it would be over, and she could relax. The space-lagged young lady thought about the Nuvian resort spa holoprogram she had brought with her from home, and took courage. "I... imagine Captain Telvan is probably very busy. Should I...?" Delilah's voice faltered. She hated having to ask a question, hated having to be told something a more experienced officer would already know. "Would now be a good time to meet with her, Sir?"

"If you like," the easygoing executive expressed. "I was planning to wrap up our conversation, show you to your quarters and my usual modus operandi is to insure that the new officer doesn't have any additional questions, then give them time to unwind, catch a shower and face the rest of the meetings in their own time. Most of the crew is on shore leave at the moment, after all. But if you'd like to skip all of that, I can escort you directly to the Captain for your next meeting."

Pausing in the hallway, the pretty pilot pivoted, turning to make direct eye contact with the frostily ambitious Operations chief. The smile that seemed perennially plastered onto her face suddenly looked less warm and friendly, replaced by one considerably more enigmatic, perhaps even a touch predatory. The statuesque starship siren stepped slightly into Delilah Dauntless' personal space, emphasizing the nearly a full head's difference in their height, forcing the newly minted officer to look up to make eye contact. When she spoke, that warm and friendly tone was conspicuously absent as a shadow fell across her face.

"I believe we've gotten to know each other very, very well during the course of this conversation. Don't you, Miss Dauntless?"

"If you say so, Sir," replied the young lieutenant, taking a not-so-subtle step back away from the taller commander. The diminutive 20 year old was used to being smaller & slighter than almost everyone else she met. Whether consciously or not, other people tended to crowd her. It had been that way since childhood. It had been that way even with her own sisters. The noticeable change in Paris' tone & temperament, however, usually didn't happen in the people she was forced to interact with, until Delilah had purposefully insulted or offended. Delliah's brow wrinkled again as she lifted her face up to meet Rita Paris' gaze, and saw something... hungry?... behind her blue eyes.

"Actually, I... think unwinding a little would be preferable," Dauntless managed, as her back pressed up against the corridor's walls. The size difference between the two women was undeniable. The golden-clad commander's forearms managed to be almost as large around as one of the smaller lieutenant's stick-thin thighs. Practically at eye-level with the taller woman's ample bosom, it was easy for Delilah to see that one of the woman's breasts was roughly the size of the young girl's head. Dauntless' body appeared immature in comparison to Paris, as it did in comparison to most other women. Resentment caused Delilah's jaw to clench and ice-blue eyes to narrow.

That smile returned as the looming lieutenant stepped back, cocked her head to the bow of the ship and chirped, "As you like, Miss Dauntless. Let's get you a little time in your own space, shall we? I've heard that can be refreshing amongst introverted individuals," the first officer offered solicitously.

"Sir, with respect, I don't think that 'introverted' is the right word," sighed Delilah, doing her best to keep her composure in front of the higher ranking officer. Resentment kept simmering just under the surface of the new operations chief's composed exterior. Rita Paris already had the advantage of size & seniority over the young girl. Delilah absolutely could not abide allowing the woman to think she suffered from social anxiety, to boot! "I may prefer to be solitary... but I am by no means shy. Oftentimes it's a struggle to... temper what I want to say to people. It's just one of the reasons why I prefer not to socialize, Sir."

With a toss of her head, the short blonde hair flipped a bit as Paris worked to get her bangs out of her eyes, continuing on at that ambling pace. Internally Paris debated offering a number of perspectives, but settled on something open to interpretation.

"Solitude can be it's own trap in my experience, Miss Dauntless. Out here, facing what we face, sometimes the absolute worst thing possible can be to find yourself alone. But you're bright and capable, I'm sure you'll do fine on your own." The cheery commander offered an encouraging smile to the junior officer, miming punching Delilah gently in the shoulder for luck, but not making contact with a wink.

"Well! Look at that, here we are," the minidress-clad anachronism paused to turn and stand beside the door where 'LT DAUNTLESS, D' was visible on the LED display at eye level. "You might find the quarters rather cramped and drab, Miss Dauntless, but Starfleet does what it can for its officers. I thought in your case, you'd appreciate being close to the turbolift for efficiency. A bit distant from the rest of the senior staff, though on the same deck, still part of the hub, of course. Do let me know if you need anything, and your reports won't be due til the shore leave rotation is finished. Any questions, anything I can do for you, Lieutenant?"

Delilah nodded, her posture relaxing for the briefest of moments as they reached what would become her new residence. "No, Sir," replied the 20 year-old, the faintest hint of relief evident in her voice. At last their awkward first interaction was coming to an end, and with the solace of a sonic shower and a moment of solitude so close at hand, the aloof young operations officer could suddenly feel the weariness of 72 straight hours of travel weight heavily upon her slight little body. "Thank you, Sir," Dauntless managed to offer, in her eerie, child-like voice. With that, she waived a hand across the biometric sensors in the cabin's doorframe, and watched the door swish open.

"Welcome aboard the Hera, Lieutenant Dauntless," Lieutenant Commander Paris offered as she turned to walk away, calling over her shoulder, "Welcome to the next level..."

Paperwork. There was just so darn much paperwork. In the more than a dozen decades since she had served on a starship, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris would have expected that by this point the paperwork required to run one would have become more streamlined and less complex. Wishful thinking, it seemed, because that certainly hadn’t come to pass. Working in the home office she had set up in her quarters, on a replica of the triangular conference room table that she used to use as an office on Deck 3 of the USS Exeter back in the 2260’s, the anachronistic astronaut dropped yet another PaDD on the table, another report outstanding that she had to keep track of, another item on the list waiting for a response from someone else.

While it had been a very good night of exercise of her favorite kind with her guy, the frustration of too much paperwork was on her nerves today. Stress needed release, and she just plain needed a mental break. As Sonak was still on duty about the Hera, she decided it was time to indulge one of her other passions. Walking away from her desk, the pretty pilot headed for the bedroom.

One zip front vest compression sports bra, check. Good running shoes with cushioned vented socks? Check. Short shorts, which were not her old Academy workout togs, check. Loose gray tank top with an obnoxious white #1 printed front and back? Check. A few quick stretches in her living room so that she wasn’t causing traffic accidents, and the curvaceous chrononaut stepped out into the wide curving corridor of Deck 8, and began to run in a clockwise direction.

Given the layout of the starship, the ideal place to run would be deck 12, because it was the widest section of the saucer, with an uninterrupted ring of corridor near the hull which made for a perfect running track. But at least half of deck 8 was circular, and dodging around corners and weaving her way about the ship was a bit of a challenge for the lost navigator, and she welcomed it.

One foot after the other, she pounded the deckplates at a surprising pace. Rita carried surprisingly little body fat at the moment- she was usually a few pounds heavier, but she was still recovering from having to adjust to the local dimension. Part of that had been her taste buds being so out of synch with the local dimension, and part of it had been caused by her overwhelming stress. Being afraid of the captain, feeling so very lost and rudderless, and mooning over the loss of Sonak had all combined to strip her full figure down to a somewhat more athletic build, but Sonak had found her, and she was eating regularly now. Since all of her previous stressors were mostly dealt with, she was working on regaining what she had lost. Which meant that she would need to carb load after all of this cardio, but she could live with that.

The only stress she was experiencing these days was due to the paperwork load of being the first officer, the ‘Number 1’. But that was actually welcome to her, as it was both familiar and somehow comforting. Sure, she needed a break, but it wasn’t like it was going to cause her a psychotic break.

Running the corridors like this, depending on the time of day, could be a traffic hazard. But with the majority of the crew on shore leave and the skeleton crew being the only people on board, in addition to Deck 8 being primarily quarters for VIPS and senior staff, there were very few people she had to dodge about as she encountered the front rounded ring. So she picked up the pace, pushing herself to get better speed and burn a bit more. Throughout her life, running had been Rita’s solace. It was time alone, with no one else, just her and her breathing and her body responding to her demands of it.

On more than one mission, being a fast runner had saved her life. Sonak could keep up with her- hell, on Braxis 2 he had actually put her on his back and run piggyback for eight miles to get them away from angry natives who mistook Sonak as the personification of a local legendary demon. But when trouble arose and her fight or flight instinct kicked in, Rita was far more prone to run than to fight. After all, it was easier to convince the natives of your positive intentions when you hadn’t mowed down half their relatives. In the Academy Rita had been on the cross-country team, and once assigned to starships she had taken up the habit of running the circular decks.

While the USS Exeter had been quarantined and drydocked on Lexington Station, she had actually taken a run on the outside of the saucer section, taking advantage of the circumstance and bonding with the starship in her own inimitable way. That made her think of Michael Stuart, the young captain of the Exeter.

While he was brave and prone to rash decisions, Stuart had a good heart. As a lieutenant jumped up to captain for heroism, he lacked command experience. Thus his rash decisions often needed tempering, which was where Rita came in. While Sonak could provide logic and structure, Rita was often the captain’s counsel and moral compass. She knew how to deal with the brass- hell, she knew half of them as ‘Uncle So-And-So’. She understood command, both the demands and the concessions required. And when crisis came as they inevitably did, Sonak offered Stuart the facts and she offered the voice of his conscience.

The three of them had made a great team, and done great things. But that was another life, another universe. She hoped that he had given up the Exeter when he lost them, or at least that someone had come along to fill the voids left by them, otherwise by himself Stuart might make some poor choices that could cost lives. But he was being promoted to Admiral just before she had been lost, so perhaps he had taken that desk job after all. Idly Rita wondered if he had listened to her one last time and taken her autographed image of Admiral Archer. She hoped so- despite his foibles she had cared for her friend and captain a great deal, and she wished the best for him.

Likely he would not have enjoyed this future. As a hard-charging maverick, he likely would have chafed at the restrictions from Starfleet Command in this more diplomatic Starfleet, and she suspected he would have hated the uniforms just as much as she did.

But Sonak had come for her, which was what she needed more than anything, as it had made her whole again. She likely would have learned to live without him, and adapted and gone on with her life. But she would forever have borne the wound of his loss, and likely she would have died alone. For no one could replace her t’hy’la in her heart, her One.

Now one would need to, because Sonak was here, having crossed time, space and dimension to return to her. In the process he had regained his homeworld as well, and rejoined a Starfleet a dozen decades more advanced than the one he had left behind. In pursing his lost love, he had gained far more than just a lifemate. He was no longer the last Vulcan master of pure logic, he had restored a katra thought lost to the Vulcan people, and he had rejoined Starfleet to explore the cosmos with her by his side.

On the scale of romantic gestures, she was thinking no one would ever be able to top him with that one. By her usual dumb luck, somehow combining the good with the bad, Rita had stumbled into a reality that was so much more improved to his mindset as to be practically paradise. But then, he had always claimed that the universe behaved oddly when it came to her, and in this instance he was certainly correct.

When Captain Telvan had offered her a promotion, Rita hadn’t hesitated. The compassionless XO she had been amazed to encounter had been transferred, and apparently counting her experience and time in rate back home made her the second senior officer behind the captain. Starfleet had taken a heavy toll on the crew with transfers, but would theoretically insure that they had crew enough to sail.

Now Rita would set the tone for the onboarding crew- well, the officers at least, although she'd greet as many of the crewmen as she could. They all needed to know that the command staff was listening, that they cared, that they were welcome. That they should make a home for themselves aboard the mighty starship Hera.

A firm believer in leading by example, Rita would choose to set that new tone, being encouraging and cheerful to the crew. Approachable. Shaking her head, she chuckled between her timed breaths. From the moment she'd met the goat horned XO she’d known she and he were going to lock horns. Which now wouldn't happen, for which she was actually glad.

The Trill captain, on the other hand, had earned the bombastic bombardier's respect. Mishandling Rita and offering casual explanations to a woman desperately lost had caused considerable problems between them. But when she had realized that Paris was planning to run, the Captain realized her mistake. Taking accountability for it all, she had laid out the truth and cleared the air after a sincere apology, and when she was finished, the ancient astronaut had understood the spotted spacfarer well enough to consider them friends. Their relationship had grown from there, and she rather liked the smirking pirate princess who sat in the center chair of the starship Hera.

With another lap completed, the sweat glistened all over her skin. But Paris wasn’t finished yet, and planned to get in a few more miles when her comm badge, attached to the waistband of her shorts, chirruped. Staggering to a halt, Rita tapped the communicator. “Lieutenant Commander Paris here.”

“Chief, we’ve got a little problem on the flight deck… you think you could get down here?” came the answer from her comm badge.

“Is this a yellow alert situation where I need to show up now, uniform or not?” Paris replied, trying not to pant from the exertion and her hammering heartbeat.

“Sooner would be better than later I’m thinking, Lieutenant,” came the reply, and Rita stifled a sigh.

“I’m on my way,” she replied, then started running for the turbolift. Duty called, and it didn’t always wait for a uniform.

Besides, the boys on the flight deck were already familiar with the pulchritudinous pin-up officer’s rather pronounced figure. Showing up hot and sweaty with her hair slicked back in running clothes probably wasn’t going to change anyone’s opinion of her at this point.

Because duty calls.

Thex smiled to herself as her feet smashed into the dirt of the station. After her binge eating up at the ski lodge she had to burn off some of the calories. Now dressed in a pink and black tracksuit, top and trainers she was tarring around the lake with the speed that her Andorian biology allowed.

This was the time that she felt really alive with adrenaline flooding her veins. She stopped for a second to take a drink from the water bottle clipped to her arm. She paused as she listened to an alien birdsong filled her ears. This was the life.

McBain had heard about the base and the fantastic parks. He had come over just to see it. He was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and running shoes as it was off duty. He had a faux leather flight jacket with his old MACO unit insignia on the back. It was a snarling grey wolf's head. He had started by just walking around but the area was huge. He had not run that day and he felt the need to pound the ground. He started jogging, soon he was running full out. The burn in his lungs felt welcome and he enjoyed the feel of speed as he rounded a corner of the lakeside track.

As he rounded the corner he noticed an Andorian lady, taking a drink and left his curiosity take over. He slowed to a walk and stopped at a polite distance from her. His easy smile formed on his face as he waited to be noticed. When she acknowledged his presence he spoke with a mix of friendliness and curiosity. "I am Ensign McBain. Newly arrived to join the Hera, it is docked here. Would you be so kind as to tell me something of this base? It is obviously pretty fantastic but I would enjoy hearing the view of someone who knows it better?"

Thex looked around as she heard someone approach her. She didn't recognise the face so he must have been one of the new crew who was arriving. " Oh, this place. The station was built by the captains family. It's a damn impressive place. The tech you need to maintain a dome with several bioregions that prevent them from overrunning each other is extraordinary."

McBain looked around the domed areas as she explained. He was thinking she must be an engineer or operations. Science was possible but her interest seemed on the workings so he went with Operations. He changed his mind as he looked back at her, no she had mentioned the tech level with more interest than the problems involved, she was an engineer. His smile grew as he was sure he knew her position. "Do you run here often? I use to run around the lake at the Academy almost daily. I try to run three to five miles every morning just to start my day."

" I've run a few times when the ships been docked. Still seeing everything that it has. It's a big place." the andorian replied as she clipped her water bottle back onto her belt.

"Do many ships dock here?" McBain had gotten the impression this base was rather exclusive. It was just scuttlebutt from the crew he had overheard talking aboard the ship. He had not engaged in many conversations but he was a good listener. He moved quietly and avoided notice most of the time so conversations continued even as he sat nearby. He thought about his other question and slipped it in before she could answer the first "I am interested in knowing your name? Maybe I could join you for a run in the next couple days?" He raised his hands palms out in a gesture of non-aggression "only if you feel safe offering your name of course." He smiled warmly "I understand if you do not wish to give me your name. I have heard some people believe knowing a person's name gives them power over you!"

" Not sure if any other ships dock here. You'd have to ask the captain that. As for my name you may call me Thex sh'Zoarhi lieutenant commander and chief engineer of the Hera." The andorain replied trying to place the mans face in the paperwork of new faces that had arrived.

McBain schooled his face so as not to show his surprise. Well he had guessed right she was an engineer but he had miscalculated her rank and never suspected she was on the Hera. "I Just came aboard the Hera yesterday. Since I had to wait for my mental base line thing I got permission to check out the base." He decided to give her a clue as to how he got here. If she was in the know she might know where he fit in on the ship. "I flew the new Orion here from DS-9. I had an incident a few days from DS-9, the Orion shuttle was banged up a bit. I doubt I made any friends among the Techs who had to repair it."

" Hum would that happen to be the ship with the note in its computer core asking any engineers to make sure Intel have given clearance before doing any work on it's memory?" Thex said slyly having worked out his department. " Relax i know all the ships that are in my girl's shuttle bays. I'll get her fixed up for you."

Pleased and disappointed by her reply McBain smiled. He liked her and was sure she would be someone interesting to work with. The disappointment came from his ruined plans to ask her out to dinner! She had no visible signs she was married and he had been thinking seriously of asking her out. She was way above his paygrade though and also a command member of the ship. He felt it was unwise to rock the boat. She still looked great in her running outfit, and.. Well? "Are you running tomorrow? I would enjoy the company if I can get free when you plan on your run." That could hardly be considered a social outing right.

" I should be providing nothing else comes up." Thex replied honestly. With all the new people coming to the ship she cound't be sure what she'd be doing the next day.

McBain nodded "Do I have permission to contact you tomorrow. If yes what time should I check with you on running together." He wanted to show deference to her rank. He wanted to make a good impression. He never even considered it might appear as him sucking up to her. He just didn't think like that.

" Off course Raymond unless something comes up. The hera is a stubbon girl sometimes. I'll see you tomorrow if i don't bump into you else were on this ship. " Thex replied calmly.

McBain waved "I will see you around then Commander. I won't delay you any longer, thanks for your time." He bowed at the waist slightly before taking a backward step. He straighten completing a sharp about face than walking away. Funny how things happen? He had seen a pretty girl and now might have a running partner. Well he had an appointment at 0900hrs in the morning for his baseline exam, things were moving along nicely.

Thex watched the human run before slipping her audio buds back into her ears before she started running in the other direction.

Thex smiled to herself as she read the padd she'd brought with her. With the artificial sun shining over the dome she was feeling incredibly happy. The soft sound of the waves moving up against the lakes moved against the shore mear feet away from the andorian. This was heaven for her.

Her antenna twitched slightly as she heard footsteps approach her. Propping herself up on her arms she looked up at the captain and her wife walking towards her. " Hello, guys." She said warmly.

Maica was in a pale green unikini that was a bit retro, but was charming, nonetheless. It almost blended in with her skin and if it weren't for the poly-sheen to it, you might mistake it for her skin. "Thex! It's good to see you again. How have you been? I hope you don't mind if we join you." Without waiting for approval, the green skinned hologram set a rather large picnic basket on the sand and spread out a beach blanket for herself and Enalia before she flopped down next to the cerulean engineer. Even made of holographics, in this harshly lit beach, you couldn't really tell she wasn't flesh and blood as her giant mammaries bounced and bobbed and sweat beaded on her skin.

"Sorry, we don't mean to intrude," Enalia added as she removed a robe and laid out a bit more elegantly on the other side of her wife. "You did pick the best part of the beach though, so please excuse us for imposing." She was dressed in a red and black string bikini that left scant square centimeters to the imagination.

" No need to apologise it is your station after all." Thex said as she adjusted herself slightly into a better more comfortable position. She was wearing a pale blue and black bikini and boyshorts. " Just enjoying the water whilst checking out some paperwork I've been dealing with. It's nice I can actually swim. Last time I was here one of my arms was in a cast. "

"Well, now you can swim to your heart's content," Maica replied. "And you'll join us for our picnic, right? I made a variety of sandwiches and I packed a variety of flavors of alcoholic citrus drinks."

" If you don't mind that does sound rather nice. " the andorian replied as she placed her padd down on her own blanket. " Just been talking a look at the holo incident seeing if i can make sense of where some of the holograms came from."

"Especially since some of them are supposedly not in our database, or modified versions of things." Enalia had been pondering that as well. "Was it Rita that said it seemed like the storm was studying us? The more we look at the data we gathered, the more I'm finding myself agreeing with her. There might be something to that human gut after all. Maica love, it's illegal to eat human guts, isn't it?"

"Yes, yes it is." Maica replied, matter-of-factly.

"Darn... I'll just have to rely on her then." Enalia said this as seriously as she could in an attempt to mess with Thex's head. She'd never really eat another sentient like that and she knew voodoo wasn't real.

" Well she's not the only one seeing odd patterns. I've searched both the Federation and civilian hole databases and i can't find any sign of the program i had to deal with in the hanger. " Thex replied grinning slightly at the captain's words. She had a rather good sense of when the captain was trying to mess with her.

"Then the question becomes where the data for the programs came from." Enalia rolled over face down as she contemplated this. "Since it didn't come from us, that means it came from the storm, which means it was sentient after all. That means it was studying us. Watching how we reacted. Or trying to kill us off, considering we're the first survivors of such a storm."

" Perhaps it was an artificial creation though i have no idea what species could create something like that. Perhaps some test to see how we'd act in a situation like that?" Thex pondered from her spot.

"Either way, it treated us like a kid with an ant farm. It shook us up and watched us scurry around trying to survive." It was a bit of a grim analogy, but Enalia thought it appropriate.

" Makes you wonder if it let us go on purpose. Still, i wonder what data it got out of making me dance in the hangar bay." The andorian pondered.

"I'm wondering what it got out of having me nearly eaten by a million tribbles..." Enalia counter pondered.

Maica sighed and got up, popping open her picnic basket. "I'm wondering if these sandwiches are going to eat themselves." Handing a wrapped set of handmade sandwiches and an ice cold vodka and lemonade canned drink to each of them, she settled back down on the blanket with her own holographic version of the same.

Thex smiled as she took a sandwich and the drink before taking a bite out of the sandwich. " These are very good. " She said as she ate her sandwich.

Enalia nobbled as well. "I think you might have outdone yourself again, my love."

"Thank you. I used fresh watercress and the bread was made this morning." Maica looked proud of herself as she too ate on her holographic sandwiches.

" You can tell. Much better than anything I could come up with. I'm a terrible cook." Thex replied between bites.

"Cooking takes practice," Maica replied. "Even with all the years of experience and knowledge preloaded into me, I had to practice at it a fair bit to get the simplest of things right."

Enalia chuckled softly a bit. "Yeah, the first few days after she came online, she had trouble making tea. She couldn't get the water to boil. It was cute though."

This little piece of information caused Maica to blush and smile at the memory. "Yeah, that was embarrassing. Here I was, one of the most advanced pieces of software in the galaxy and you had to teach me how to boil water."

" You can't program everything from the get-go. First thing they taught us at the academy. First time i tried coding a replicator all it made was a pale pink goo that only Naari's could eat." Thex said sharing her own tale of embarrassment.

"Mmmm... Recycled protein..." Enalia knew that description. She also knew the taste from her family's survival training. "I'll stick with my wife's amazing cooking, thanks. Maybe you could start giving people cooking lessons."

"I'm not sure I have enough time in the day now, but here and there couldn't hurt," Maica replied.

" Maybe you should. I'm not sure if i can make it i have to try and contact my grandfather tomorrow and it might take a while." Thex replied.

"With all the duties I have now, official classes will have to wait, but any time you need help, just let me know." Maica smiled brightly. "I hope your conversation with your grandfather goes well."

" I hope so too if i can get the jellyfish on the line he's....." Thex began before her communicator began to bleep. " Speck off the devil. That's him now." Excuse me i have to go and take this. I'll talk to you later." Thex said as she stood up.

"Good luck then," Enalia replied, waving happily as she nibbled another sandwich.

It was just past 12:00 hours when the gold and blue duo departed their shared quarters, which she already thought of as ‘theirs’ rather than ‘hers’. She’d bustled all over the ship, taken a meeting with the captain, gotten caught up on her reports and gotten her department organized as well as checking on the rest of the departments. After all, as first officer, she was now responsible for all of the departments running smoothly. The Captain’s job was to lead and set course and policy- the first officer made the starship run efficiently, to free the Captain up to do so.

Fortunately, this was something with which Rita Paris was quite accustomed. Years of overachieving at her last command had left her remarkably well-equipped for this one, as she had been doing the lion’s share of the work already as the ambitious second officer of the Exeter. While the faces and uniforms and starship had all changed, paperwork was a constant, and she knew how to stay on top of it without undue stress.

By 17:00 hours she was already spending far too much time thinking about what she planned to spend her evening with her… T’hy’la was an encompassing term, but it didn’t really relay their relationship effectively to the uninitiated. That was a conversation they needed to have as well, because ‘my boyfriend’ very much did not encapsulate her relationship with her good-natured lifemate. But as she considered, she also realized that there were still five days of shore leave left. While she had previously been burying herself in her work, she found she wished she were spending more time with her grey-eyed lover.

A workaholic by nature, the leggy lieutenant commander actually had very little to do with the mighty starship dry docked in port, and she had literally spent one day off the ship since arrival. Skating with Thex had been fun, and she’d been happy to see her friend enjoy herself. Getting drunk with Sam had been fun as well. But now she had a reason to want some time to herself- well, not exactly to herself, but she had reason to want to be places other than the Hera and doing something other than work.

They had been apart for what had felt like an eternity to her, and it seemed one night of reunion was apparently not enough for her. Instead she found herself wondering if there was somewhere with warm weather, surf and sand- a beach on an ocean was what the curvy California girl craved, and she wanted to spend it with her man.

Now to find a local beach they could afford to visit... tapping away at her PaDD, she sent a series of messages to the ACSO.

>KABUL 3 MUST HAVE TROPICAL BEACHES.<
>I WANT TO GO SPEND A FEW DAYS AT A CHEAP HOTEL ON A TOURIST BEACH WITH YOU.<
>WE ARE TECHNICALLY STILL ON SHORE LEAVE<
>PLEASE RESEARCH AND CHOOSE A DESTINATION<


With that arranged, Paris began considering which of her pilots would be their ferryman for her first vacation in a century.

The chime rang and a moment later, the door wooshed open and Sonak entered, hands clasped behind his back.

“No need to ring the chime, m’love, I already programmed it to recognize and authorize you,” Rita called from behind the partition where she kept her ‘home office’. Stepping out she was still tapping away at a PaDD as she navigated slowly toward him, still finishing up whatever she was working on before she looked up.

"Your formal confirmation was mandatory," he said.

Even the woman who new him best couldn't swear if he was joking or not.

The smile that graced her face was a genuine one- over the years Sonak had learned to differentiate subtleties in her expressions that, while on the surface might be easily mistaken for one another, each held subtle meanings. In this case it was genuine joy to see him. The curious kolinahr could feel her heart swell from here at the sight of him- while it was still re-establishing itself according to this new dynamic, it seemed their bond was still quite strong, and at this range her feelings were readily evident to him.

While he did not feel her joy, still did he understand and appreciate it.

"I must admit it is most agreeable to come to you after doing my duty, especially for someone accustomed to solitude."

Putting the PaDD behind her, the cheerful chrononaut smiled sweetly at her stoic partner and waited for him to close the distance between them with anticipation. His physical proximity caused many reactions in her- elevated heartrate, an increase in respiration, a dilating of the pupils to name a few. But anticipation was most definitely there, and quite strong. As always, she yearned for his touch, to assure her of her physical existence and to bring calm to her usually scattered and excitable emotions.

Stepping toward her, Sonak extended his fingers for her to touch. Extending her fingers to meet his, contact was made and he could clearly feel her, hearing even her surface thoughts. That prompted him to make a gesture quite alien to him, which he knew was so meaningful to his human partner. And being so close to her after being so long apart, it may have been alien... but it was no longer meaningless to him.

Slowly and delicately, he hugged her.

Melting into his arms, he felt her calm, although she had not been upset. Low level stress of the day was present, although nothing significant. But feeling him close, feeling his presence in her mind filled her heart with joy and contentment, and she held him for ten seconds or so, sighing deeply as she took the comfort that he offered her. When she pulled back, she did not yield the embrace; instead, she simply withdrew enough so that she could see his face, even as she remained in close contact with his form.

Although this was far from the first time they had such physical contact - and there had been quite a lot more, deeper and intense than that - it was always a new and bewildering yet intensely sensual experience for Sonak. Vulcans, because of their innate touch telepathy, did not touch except when engaging in intimate relationships; and it was especially distasteful with strangers, even more with aliens. That's why they did not shake hands or embrace like Humans and some other species did.

But with Rita, even the emotionless kolinarh felt... something; and it was not disagreeable to him at all. On the contrary, it evoked deep peace and fulfillment in him, something that he could usually achieve only after several minutes of meditation. Here, it was as instantaneous as her touch upon his body.

Even now, after all the time they had been together, and all the time they had been apart. Not knowing if they would ever be together again, but each hoping against all odds, against all logic, that they would. Now her close contact stirred something even deeper within him. The void left by his removed emotions filled with hers, like warm, honeyed tea pouring in a cup inside him. It was quite new, most fascinating... and agreeable.

That was why Sonak was never the one to break contact.

And for a while, it even lingered, carried by Rita's musical voice.

“I know we just got back on duty, but… the ship is on shore leave, and we aren’t required to be here. I thought just a night together would do, and it would, but,” The time-tossed temptress smiled a guilty smile. “We can have a little more time and… I would like to take it. I would love to just go to a beach and smell the sea air and feel the wind off the water and take some walks on the sand and eat food that’s bad for us and just be… people.” The look in her eyes was a pleading one, but she was reasonably confident her sales pitch was winning her lover over.

"You are aware that Vulcans do not take... vacations," he stated, looking into her soft eyes. "When there is a need to replenish mental and physical energies, we enter a meditative trance; much more efficient for this purpose. But I am aware of the Human need to... do nothing and think about nothing while exerting themselves in unproductive activities out in the open. Since your well-being is of concern to me, I shall therefore find gratification in... how do you say it... humoring you."

He thought for a moment then lifted an eyebrow.

"A beach... that will be a most novel and interesting experience... especially with you."

Those big blue eyes rolled and Rita sighed slightly. “That’s my guy, romantic to a fault,” she teased lightly. “Thank you Sonak. I know it isn’t your way, but we can try some meditation on the beach, and you might find it soothing. Besides, you’ve never spent a lot of time with an active ocean, and your analogies often make me think of it. And…” she paused, then looked up at him from beneath her brows with a vulnerability he knew well. “I know it was only a few months for me, but… time. I know it is selfish and childish and illogical, but I just want some more time with you, that’s all. No Starfleet, no Hera, no responsibilities or duties, just… time."

"Time for us.”

"I am most in agreement with this assessment," he confessed, with a glint in his eyes that went clearly beyond the cold logic of his statement.

With that, she looked confused. "You agree that I am being selfish or that we should take some personal time...?" she asked warily.

"I was speaking about personal time, of course. As for selfishness, I leave it to you to make your own assessment and your own choices about yourself. It is not my place to judge you, be it professionally or personally. In any case, selfishness is irrelevant if you align it with the needs of others. As Ambassador Spock once said; a difference that makes no difference is not a difference. And as your shipmate of several years, I have always seen you unfailingly put the interests of ship and crew before your own, even at your own peril. In point of fact, it is in no small part why you are here, now."

As the scientist explained his perspective, her face warmed more and more, until by the time he had finished Rita seemed reasonably radiant. "You always know what to say, somehow. You are so truly brilliant, in every way. I'd say I don't know what you see in me, but sharing as we do, I can see myself the way that you do. Yet that perspective never fails to amaze me, from your perspective or mine."

Leaning back into him and cocking her hip to make herself a bit shorter, Rita snuggled into Sonak's shoulder, slid her arms across his back and sighed. "You're right. That is kind of exactly how I ended up here. I do work pretty hard, and I really do try to bring everyone home, and so do you. I'm... getting the impression things are a lot more dangerous in this time, in this universe. I think the missions are going to be a lot more challenging than they used to be."

"So I have been told," he agreed. "But I seem to recall one Human philosopher saying; what doesn't kill us makes us stronger. By that logic, after all that we've been through already, we should be adequate for whatever lays ahead."

"I think we need to go have some fun and a nice vacation... a nice memory. I have a hunch we might need a nice memory on this tour," Rita finished, taking the slender Vulcan's face in her hands then gently angling his head so that she could press her forehead to his.

Let's go on shore leave, my love. Let us vacation and be carefree... for a time.

We will make the best of this... experience... together, Thy'la.

The human adventurer turned her head slightly, expressive even in body language. Actually... that's something else we might discuss.

Vulcans do... marry, right...?

Both sharply angled eyebrows rose on the emotionless but not expressionless Vulcan. It is customary for Vulcans to formalize unions.

Would you like to do so?

Surprise was evident, but also his matter-of-fact state of mind about it. And something else; there was a reservation about him, as if he wanted to avoid hurting her by putting any pressure on her. But what she could clearly feel was that, for him, it was already a fact; and as he said, all that was left was to formalize it in the eyes of others. In his own eyes, he already belonged to her.

Pulling back so that she could focus on his face, to lock her eyes to his own, they darted back and forth between his as she wavered. "Yes? No? Maybe? It seems a little cheap to ask for a formalization of our bond... I mean, as romantic gestures go, it's going to be impossible for anyone to top 'came through space and time and gave up the reality we knew just for me', after all."

"But when I was lost and I tried to describe what you meant to me, no one seems to know what t'hy'la means, and telling people I lost my 'boyfriend' really didn't seem to sum up why I was so devastated without you. So... in that way, yes, I would like to formalize our relationship so that others may better understand who you are to me." With that, she ran the back of her hand along his strong and level jawline, letting her fingers linger at his chin.

"There's something I don't get, though. Something I don't know? Because you're concerned, and I don't understand why." Those blonde brows rose up a bit as her blue eyes broke their study of his grey, and she instead led him to the couch to sit beside her. "What is it?"

In a very human gesture, he took her hand and locked eyes with her.

"Vulcans take unions very seriously. After all, we share our thoughts, our feelings, our memories, our entire being when we bond, as you and I do. The formal ceremonial itself in our culture is very brief and simply stands as a statement of fact; other Vulcans know what that statement fully implies. However, Humans rarely if ever enjoys the deepness of sharing my people do; unless they experience it with a Vulcan... as you do with me."

He waited a moment to confirm that she truly understood what he was saying before continuing.

"My concern is that Humans, usually not experiencing such bonding, are more inclined to value other things, such as their freedom, over any such commitment. Particularly one so deep and permanent. A union with a Vulcan is no easy life for a human woman, as my lack of emotions goes even beyond the usual... coldness of the Vulcan heart, as some have put it. The last thing I would wish is for you to feel... trapped... now or later. You are free, Rita Paris; the choice must also be yours. You alone can say what will bring you fulfillment, as a Vulcan would say; happiness as a Human would say. If such is your choice, I could only promise to give myself and my best to try and give it to you; I can only offer you what I am, nothing less... but nothing more."

He now took her hand in both of his.

"A Terran named Victor Hugo, centuries ago, said it best: what you love, let be free; if it comes back to you, it is yours; if not, it never was."

A small smile pursed her lips as the all-too human woman shook her head. "You came back to me, Sonak. I know precisely how much I mean to you, and I've always known what you mean to me. I need no freedom from you, nor your heart that is so very far from cold. I told you, I will always be beside you if I can, and if not I will fight with every fiber of my being to return to you. Trapped is when I cannot be with you, far from the contentment and fulfillment I feel sharing my heart, my thoughts, my life with you."

Bringing his hand to her lips, she rotated it so the palm was upward, then kissed his wrist, where his pulse throbbed out his life's steady drumbeat. Shifting her eyes to lock with his, she placed his palm alongside her cheek, guiding him where she wished him to touch her. "You make me happy, Sonak of Vulcan, and I love you. In any time and place, I choose you. Life without you is difficult, life with you is bliss. It doesn't matter where you go or what you do, I want to spend each moment of the day with you." That brought forth a mischievous impish grin, as he could hear the strains of a song in her head.

"It's crazy but it's true- I only want to be with you."

He stood straight, his grey eyes boring into hers.

"There is no living being, in any universe or time period, that I would choose to go through this existence, but you. You alone give to me the full meaning of live long and prosper. Rita Paris, part of me and apart; apart but never parted, touched and not touched... you are my Thy'la... now and forever."

He then lifted an eyebrow.

"Do you wish for a Human ceremony, a Vulcan traditional ceremony... or for us to be formally united in the Starfleet fashion by our captain?"

"Do you have a preference? I mean, you are very big on tradition and ritual despite your unconventional taste in women," Rita asked, getting up to perch herself on his lap, something she had always enjoyed. It stemmed back to when in a daring gambit she had touched him when he was possessed by a Talosian. The brief contact had left Sonak time to produce a Ka-dasirkolin within her mind, a minor virtual copy of himself that communicated with her while she was in a coma from the brief contact with the Talosian's mind.

Interrupting a nightmare of hers, he had been sitting in the command chair on the bridge of the Constitution back when she had existed there as a ghost. The shadow of his mind had offered her information on the situation and perspective, and that the universe always held possibilities, particularly when it came to a relationship with him. But seeking comfort, she had concluded the conversation by curling up in his lap in the command chair. Then, as now, she was reassured by his arms moving to hold her there. That had been one of the first inklings that they might have a future together, and to this day curling up on his lap in this manner still made her feel just as reassured as the first time. "I know I plot the course, but do you want a traditional Vulcan wedding?"

He looked a bit thoughtful at this before replying.

"This might surprise you, especially coming from a master of Gol, but I am not fond of rituals. I prefer rational, efficient choices subject to constant reevaluation and improvement. There is much in our traditions that are... I would dare to say even illogical. And since I am free of the Pon Farr, I am not bound to follow through with the Kunat kal-if-fee."

He looked sideways at her.

"It is your right, however, as a Vulcan bride, to demand that I prove myself worthy of you and face a challenge from another suitor of your choice."

Looking mildly distressed at that, Rita hooked one arm over his shoulder to eye him quizzically. "Where in the universe would I possibly find another suitor? As for proving yourself worthy... ohhh, Mister Sonak," Rita giggled as she grinned. "There is no one in this universe or any other more worthy of my heart and hand than you. No, a Vulcan wedding all sounds very complicated and mildly dangerous, and I don't need you killing the defeated party."

Of course, she knew of the ritual of Kunat kal-if-fee from his mind, as they were still in contact, although not bonded in the mind meld. But his surface thoughts, which were what he allowed her to see in his mind at this level, still filled in years of cultural gaps for her. "Wow, Vulcans do have some illogical rituals there, don't they? So... you're all right not going traditional? I am not going to break some wizened and terrifying old Vulcan grandmother's heart that you didn't knock somebody's block off with a lirpa if we don't, right?"

"That would be unfortunate for the challenger; I am a master of the lirpa, " he stated with his typical even tone. "I have no relative in this century and this universe; and I am a kolinarh master. I am therefore not bound by tradition; I dictate it. So, I admit my appreciation that you are willing to dispense with the death challenge. Are we going to follow any of the oh-so-numerous human ceremonies then? Or the Starfleet way?"

A slight frown settled on Rita's face as she considered, then the cheerful commander burst into laughter. "My first thought is of that great big white dress, and immediately I don't want it, because of how often dear old Daddy tried to get me hitched off to some 'good Starfleet family'. Ah, no, darling- my relatives are long gone and buried in another dimension. As callow and heartless as it may sound, I haven't missed them a bit. In the era we left them they just think I'm dead, and knowing my brother and father they likely started a betting pool on when I'd show back up again."

"No, Sonak. No traditional Human wedding either, thank you for offering. As dashing as I am sure you would look in a tuxedo, I have always loved you in science blue." At that Rita pulled up her feet to curl up a bit more on his chest and lap, even as he moved to support and hold her there. "Starfleet wedding it is. But I still want to go to the beach, so... wedding at sunset? I'll ask the Captain to officiate, because even off her ship it still counts, right? Thex can be my maid of honor... we have to have 2 witnesses. Do you have a groomsman, like a second I guess?"

"Unfortunately, I am quite new to this place and time and have yet to make any significant acquaintance to pay justice to the tradition. I doubt the Masters of Gol I met on Vulcan upon my arrival or Captain Data who oversaw my Academy training would be available. Logic therefore would suggest my immediate superior officer on board is the one I should ask to perform this duty."

He thought for a moment before answering her first question.

"If memory serves, the ancient naval tradition which has been transposed to modern spacefaring implies the captain's marital powers and duties being limited to her ship. Again, logic would suggest the wedding proper to be performed on board and the following ritual done on that beach you wish for us to go; that would be the... sugar star, is it not?"

Something in the back of her mind was telling her the quote was actually Richard Bach, and that 'sugar star' might very well have been a deliberate joke on his part. "We refer to it as a Honey-moon, my love, though for the life of me I couldn't explain the origin of the word nor its significance to the occasion," Rita admitted. "But... practical. Weddings on the beach are always a lot windier than you remembered and it's all just a pretty sunrise with a huge hassle. Your logic, as always, is sound- wedding on board, honeymoon to follow."

"That means I have some discussions that need to happen and some arrangements to make." Rita scooted her feet back to the floor, keeping her rounded rear parked in her Vulcan lover's lap briefly before she needed a PaDD out of reach, then she was off and running. "I'll make the arrangements on board. Can you ask the Lieutenant if he'll attend and book the hotel on the beach? I can get one of my pilots to ferry us down then come pick us up..."

"Affirmative," he replied.

For a moment, he was tempted to propose using the transporter instead; faster, more practical and going with her might help alleviate her fears of the device. Her fears were certainly well-founded, but life could not be faced with fear.

But then, he realized how this ceremonial was obviously important to her. In his mind, it was already a "fait accompli" a done thing; but she was an emotional creature and she needed more than just to know it like he did; she needed to feel it and to express it to herself and to the universe. Marring this with a fear therapy event was not congruent to make it the experience she looked for and needed. Besides, the shuttle flight would make it all the more solemn and provide a longer, deeper moment to share, reminiscent of the carriage travel of antiquity; something that would resonate all the more for her. This small concession to her feelings would in a modest way convince her that he might not truly share her emotions, but he certainly understood them... and respected them.

Already Rita Paris was in motion. A plan had been agreed upon, so now the mission was on, and things Needed to Get Done. And like a force of nature, the hourglass heroine set about preparing to make something happen, to bring to pass a desired result. It was one of her purposes in the universe, and she pursued it with considerable enthusiasm. Which, in this case, she began a To Do List, and began tapping away to create it. The future takes root in the present, after all.

As he made himself ready to go and ask the chief science officer for his involvement, Sonak noticed that his mate was going about it all with an energetic, efficient, methodical manner; an uncharacteristically all-rational manner for what he had known and heard of Human women in such circumstances. His eyebrow went up before he looked away to hide his surprise.

It seemed his own mind had imprinted an echo of itself in hers, just as her emotions slipped into his own psyche.

Most interesting...




Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YQbC4DuPKN4

McBain had been up since 0530hrs, working out, dressing for the day, breakfast. He was not cleared completely yet so he went to the flight deck for a couple hours and worked on the Orion he had flown here. He checked the build record and checked the design flaw the captain had mentioned. He ran a diagnostic on several systems. He especially checked the life support repairs and the other systems that had shown alerts. He was making sure his shuttle was flight ready. The XO had mentioned an upcoming mission and he wanted to be prepared.

Checking the time he put away all the tools he had used and filled out the maintenance log before setting off for medical. He did not take a direct route as he was still getting familiar with the ship. So he walked the corridors making sure he could get around. He walked into the medbay only five minutes early. Looking around he saw Asa and stepped in their direction. When they noticed him he waved "hiya Doc, here as requested."

"Good morning McBain," Asa replied, summoning all their will to be cheerful in their response. Asa had long hated mornings, although they did their best to hide the fact from the ever-early-risers that seemed to make the majority of Starfleet.

Motioning the tall man to med station, Asa pulled out their medical tricorder and said, "With your permission?"

"Oh for sure, is why I am here after all." McBain had followed her into the station and sat down. "Take your time Doc, I am afraid I am disgustingly healthy, a few scars here and there, from things that happened to far away from proper medical support. So should I keep quiet while you work?"

“Hm? Oh, no, sorry, of course, feel free to talk, I just can’t promise a quick reply,” Asa answered, their vision already engrossed with the medical tricorder.

The doctor tapped on a few things, listened to a few whirs and beeps, and consulted their PaDD for a quick review of the ensign’s medical records. With a slight frown, Asa asked, “It looks like we are missing some vaccination records. Did Starfleet academy need to do any boosters?”

"I was a MACO so when I went to the Academy I had everything up to date. I got a whole base series before I left the Academy because of the type of job I have means a lot of interaction with alien environments. Everything should be up to date? That would be for DS-9 though, I was not aware I was coming to the Hera till I got there. It felt sort of like a rush change of orders, so maybe I need vaccines for this sector?" McBain smiled and shrugged "I can not answer as to the records?"

“OK, well, I don’t want to overload your system, I’m sure it’s a bookkeeping error. I’ll request the records from DS-9. As far as Starfleet records indicate, there is nothing too exotic in this sector, so the base set is all that’s required. Well, that was painless. You are fit as a fiddle and ready to go!”

"That was short and sweet." McBain stood. "I am sure whatever happened is a simple mistake in forwarded records? It will be fine." His face lit up and he raised a hand as he took a personal record PaDD from a pocket. "Always keep a copy of your records when not on mission! I learned that between AIT as a MACO and stealth insertion training. My records got lost in transit and my whole life would have been turned on its ear if I had not had a copy of my orders! Here you go, DS-9 shot record when I passed through there." Happy with himself hr waited till they acknowledged the record. "So are we still on for training?

"Absolutely. There is one thing I see that while not a problem, is just a good recommendation for humans in their 30's, and it looks like you recently qualified for that decade," they said with a smile, "To ensure your pearly white stay pearly- and to ward off any wear on the enamel of your teeth- there is a quick mouth rinse I'm going to ask you to do once a month if willing, sound ok? Other than that, let's go hit the holodeck."

McBain shrugged "sure if you think it is good for me?" He stepped toward the aisle, "First thing we do is take care of getting your Body Armor and kit. I understand we will be wearing it often, so you might as well be wearing it whenever we train. We will train with the armor and gear on so you get used to it. Ready to go to the Armory?"

Asa gulped, they hadn't even thought about wearing body armor, but it did make sense. They knew their endurance definitely needed to be built up, and they trusted the experienced ensign.

"OK, lets hope they have some in size waif," Asa replied in what they hoped was good humor.

McBain laughed as he waved her to come with him. "I always believe in giving people as many facts as I know so they are not caught off guard. Some people do not appreciate that as their imagination has too much time to play games inside their own heads. Most people appreciate knowing what is expected and what is going to happen." McBain offered that preamble as they walked. He decided to walk the one deck from 11 to deck-12 to have time to explain.

"Now you will be holographically sized for the body glove that will be replicated. It will have body sensors and provide padding between your body and the armor. It will be fitted with the armor plating so you basically will drop down into the armor than seal it up with overlapping plates. It will have actuators in the joints you will need to get used to. They will make you jump higher and move faster as well. They when working will make the armor lighter than normal cloths. Something happens to them and it will feel like you are wearing ancient plate-mail." McBain smiled "luckily the armor is very resilient to shutting down. There is a way to release the armor plates so you basically are just wearing the body glove. Now since you are a medic the cargo areas and harness will be adapted to your needs when we replicate the armor. We will get into that at the time."

McBain stopped to make eye contact as they reached deck-12. "You still okay Asa? Any questions before we get to security."

“Nah, looking forward to having super-powers, lets’ do it,” they replied. Asa was feeling trepidations, but not willing to let the fear in. After all, they were safe aboard the Hera. What could possibly go wrong?

Plans had been made, the stage was set and the curious captain had set wheels in motion to bring about a desired change. All that remained was for those players to play their parts. Tapping her comm badge, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris called out. “Paris to Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi. Please report to my office.” Tapping it again, she repeated the message. “Paris to Lieutenant Clemens. Please report to my office immediately.”

‘Report immediately’ was seldom a good sign, she knew, but she wanted the colorful assistant engineer to move with a purpose. After all, it wouldn’t do to keep the Captain waiting.

It wasn't long before the sapphire engineer had made her way to deck four, the flight control office that Paris still used as her office rather than using the XO’s ready room off the bridge. The flight control office had a better view and far more room, and even with the promotion Rita saw no reason the change venues. Stepping through the door the Andorian engineer smiled at her friend. “Need me for something, Rita?" She asked politely.

Looking up, Paris rose to greet the cerulean-skinned miracle worker. A smile lit up her face as it so often did, particularly upon sighting her diminutive partner in crime. “Thanks for coming on short notice, Thex. Captain called a meeting, we’re to dine at the Captain’s Table. We're just waiting for our other dinner companion now."

Before the word 'now' had finished echoing off the walls, the office door flew open, and Lieutenant Samuel Langhorne Clemens the Twenty-Fifth walked through the door, in a poster-perfect uniform, a PADD under his arm. He came to a halt, and his heels actually *CLICKED*, as they came together. His hair was...tidy. His moustache was heavily-waxed and far more under control than in any previous encounter. It was unnerving.

"Lieutenant Samuel Clemens, reportin' as ordered, Ma'am!"

A wide grin split the face of the first officer as she leaned her miniskirted ass on her desk and crossed her arms beneath her abundant bosom. "Well don't you clean up well! Call you on the carpet and you show up dressed for dinner."

Shoving off from her desk with her rear, Paris started off in motion, headed for the door assuming the other officers were in tow. "Come on you lot- we've a summons to the Captain's table and we're already late."

The Moustachioed Missouri Martinet gave a quick nod, pivoted like a piece of machinery, and whisked his way out of the office, like he'd been tethered, following the Beautiful Blonde Boss. Thex fell in step with the others- while her llegs were a bit shorter, she hustled to keep up.

Marching through the Hera to the turbolift was actually a short walk- unsurprising considering how much room the flight deck took up in the saucer section. Tabbing the button, Paris kept her back to her two shipmates until the lift arrived. Stepping in, she looked up and asked, "Deck 8, officer country please?"

The brief ride passed in silence, and when the doors opened, Rita Paris marched along at that martial gate she exercised so frequently until they had reached the bow, where to port were the captain's quarters, and to starboard was the captain's table. Striding up to the door, Paris tabbed the chime.

As the door opened, Enalia and Maica were both there to greet their guests. "Welcome!" they both said simultaneously, ushering them all into the retro twenty first themed lounge. They were both dressed in matching outfits, Maica in a red Chinese dress and Enalia in a red Chinese pants suit cut identically.

"Please, right this way," Maica prompted as she guided their guests towards the main table. "I've prepared a lovely meal for us today and I hope you all love it. With such varied tastes I've gone with a page from the Cantonese book from Earth and prepared a multitude of buffet dishes on a castilian suzanne table for your dining pleasure. I've also prepared both spiked rose lemonade and spiced Atlivan tea for a variety of flavors."

Enalia just smiled brightly and helped guide everyone in to their seats. It may have been a bit heavy handed, getting everyone in like this so suddenly, but dinner was waiting. Taking a look around, she made sure the view of the old Hong Kong night cityscape was perfect, as well as the lounge bar that had been added. The holographic waiters started bringing out the drinks and filling the glasses and teacups so she figured now was a good time to get started.

"Welcome everyone. Sorry for the late notice. There's a bit of business that needs to be discussed though and it's something I'd prefer to discuss over a meal. On top of that, it's been a while since we've had a dinner party." Enalia waited until everyone else had taken their seats and sat down as well. "Shall we enjoy our drinks a bit before dinner first?"

The shined-up secret spymaster smiled brilliantly in response, and noted, "Captain Enal'yah, Madame Maica, ah'm honuh'd t'dine at yoah luv'ly establishment. Y'all're thuh pictchuh uv grace an' b'yooteh. Many thanks foah th'hospitaliteh."

Rita took her time, taking in the view of old Hong Kong. It wasn't the way that she remembered it, but it was her homeworld. Over the years she had taken that for granted, but now, surrounded by aliens, a little touch of home was very welcome. "See, I didn't know if you were going to come at this all differently so I just played it aloof. I've got to get better at predicting you, Captain. And I must admit, it was very thoughtful for you to set the scene and cuisine as earth, ma'am. I appreciate a little touch of home."

As he sipped on his lemonade, making an appreciative noise, Clemens was quite busy being impressed by the sheer expertise in holographic technology that it must have taken to craft such a splendid and realistic venue. The quality of the emitters was better than anything he'd seen deployed on Starfleet vessels that weren't specifically built for such purposes. The Commodore had mentioned one of his projects, once- he referred to it as a 'repliship'- that utilized emitters at this resolution in combination with miniturized replicator panels to make a self-configuring ship, but the way he'd talked about it, it seemed almost like a tall tale. Clearly, he hadn't been just bragging.

Thex wasn't saying much as she sipped on her drink enjoying the holo setting. She'd never been to honk kong in any form though she enjoyed watching the light dancing across the water as the ships passed by. "You've both done amazing work with this setting." She said turning to look at her hosts.

Lowering herself gracefully into her seat, smoothing out her short skirt as she did so, Rita Paris shared a smile around the table. "So, business first, Captain?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Enalia nodded and waved to the mustachioed man with them. "With the influx of new personnel, yourself included, a few new assignments were bound to go awry. The Intel Chief we were assigned, due to some... Unforeseen circumstances... Will be unable to join us. So I'm assigning you as Chief of Intel. We're currently pretty down in the department, but if you have any questions, try and track down Crewman Dedjoy. She knows your systems better than anyone else on the ship now."

With a bushy eyebrow raised, the mustachioed mandarin of mendacity answered, without irony, "Oh! Ah'm terribleh sorreh t'heah of this misfoahtune! Uv coahse, Captain, Ah am, as always, atchya suhvice." He paused for a beat, nodded, and added, "Y'all've treated me with endless kindness and welcohm ahms, and 'tis an honuh t'suhv aboahd th'Hera in any capac'ty ah kin be of use."

“Sorry to steal your sidekick, Thex,” Rita joked, nudging the Andorian engineer’s shoulder. “Big guy like this woulda only slowed you down, right?”

The big guy in question rapidfire-quipped back, with that Clemens Twinkle, "Ah, yer right! She can git where mah moustache would surely get stuck!"

Maica giggled softly at that reference. "It certainly is a magnificent mustache. Shall we move on to the meal then? I've prepared an Earth and Trill asiatic style meal. Just spin the center of the table and help yourself." Clapping her hands twice, she spurred the holographic waiters into action. As they set the plates and silverware before the guests, they brought out over a dozen dishes of fried, grilled, and steamed meat and veggies from both Trill and Earth served with a variety of brown and red sauces. There were even a couple dishes served on crushed ice. "The iced eggplant steak should be at just the right temperature and the leafa chicken might be a bit spicy, so watch out."

Upon hearing of the spiciness, Rita chimed in. "Sounds like that ought to be the warning label for the Hera, eh?"

That got the dinner party off with a laugh, and it set the tone for the night. Good food, a few laughs and little time spent together amongst the crew of the USS Hera.

"So that's the deal. I've been promoted, so I'm now the First Officer. Still flight control chief as well, because one of these jobs is not so hard. So when away missions come up, I'll be out of the pilot's seat and into the unknown. As long as it isn't into darkness," Rita quipped, looking directly into the camera for a brief second. "Now, the good news is that I'm going to see if I can still maintain the department. So you're still free to fly, my fine feathered friend."

"If it gets to be a bit much for me, I might ask for your help in taking over some of the responsibilities for me. Fair?" Sitting on the desk of the flight control operations on the flight deck, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris took a sip of her coffee from the mug that read 'World's Best Daughter'. Eyeing the alien aviatrix who was leaning back in one of the chairs, the ancient astronaut awaited her reaction.

"Hmm yeah, you'll be the one going on away missions then, I assume." Gonadie stretched a bit and yawned. It was an early morning for her and the first cup of coffee was in front of her in a 'Nebula Class Pilot' mug. "Don't worry, ma'am, I'll take care of the department and shuttlebay so you can focus on everything else."

"Yep. Apparently there are some pretty high-tech armors available as well as weaponry, so looks like I might just be spending some shuttle time doing dangerous things. So you keep the big girl safe while I'm off gallanting. And if you could see your way clear to keeping the flight deck and the maintenance logs in line, I'd appreciate it." The cheerful commander took another sip of coffee, then narrowed her eyes slightly, gesturing to the Miradonian with her coffee cup. "If you don't mind me asking, you've got the time in rate, Mona. Why haven't you struck for JG? Just don't want the responsibility of rank? Not judging, just asking."

"I'm not a leader. I mean, I could be if I put forth the effort, but I'm a flyer and a lover. Leading people doesn't help me further either of those things." Mona was blunt, but that's just how she felt. Sipping her latte, she trilled over it a bit as she cupped it in her hands. "I do the leadership jobs I'm assigned to the satisfaction of those above me, and... That's it."

A smile graced the face of the career overachiever. "I have no problem witht hat. So long as you do the job you're assigned to the satisfaction of those above you, I won't pressure you to advance and lead more. It's not for everyone- that's why I asked you. No sense nagging a pilot who took the officer track to be able to fly the big starship, but doesn't want to be a career officer. Now that I know, I'll respect your choices. You're one hell of a pilot either way, and you're a huge boon to the Hera and me, with both the department and my own piloting training. In short, you're doing a fine job in my book, Miss Gonadie."

"Thank you, ma'am," Mona replied, yawning again. Her amount of latte intake had obviously been insufficient so far to wake her up so far. "Excuse me, I had a late night last night. Apparently there's a Miradonian male with beautiful plumage among the pirates and... We ah..." She glanced sheepishly off to the side, making it obvious how red her eyes were from the lack of sleep.

"Why Miz Gonadie," Paris replied with a smirk. "Birds of a feather, quite literally in this case. Well, that was the entire purpose of this meeting. The disciplinary reports have been minimal and most of the malcontents have showed themselves out the door with this latest round of transfers. So the Hera is running smoothly and there's no need for me to be monopolozing your time. I'll expect to see you here at 06:00 in four more days. Until then, I expect you to be on shoreleave, Ensign." The buxom blonde bombshell paused to raise her brows slightly. "Unless you've some business of which I need to be aware...?"

"Ah... No... Though I should probably stop by sickbay for some contraceptives..." Mona was looking even more sheepish by the moment, if it were possible. "I expect we'll be mating like chickenhawks most of that time... Neither of us have even seen another Miradonian since we left home. It might be that, but he is rather handsome. And I don't mean to preen, but I was known to be a pretty fine specimen myself. If you know what I mean..." She was now trying to hide her face behind her coffee mug.

"Sorry... You probably didn't need to hear all that..." Gonadie added.

"Pffft," the old-school officer breezily waved it off. "I think it's healthy, and I don't judge. Keeps one on an even keel. Besides, it's only us here, not like you are scandalizing the flight crew. You go enjoy your shore leave, Mona. Spend some time with someone who gets you and give a pirate a gal to pine for, and make some good memories." The part Paris didn't bring up was that she suspected they were all going to need some good memories soon enough, but bringing down her assistant chief with talk like that would serve no constructive purpose. Instead, she was determined to send her able assistant off to enjoy herself and have a proper vacation, which she herself planned as well.

"Well then..." Downing the rest of her latte, Mona headed to the office sink and washed it out real quick before sliding it back into the cupboard. "I'm off to his nest then. See you in a few days. Have some fun with that Vulcan of yours." Smiling lewdly at Rita, she headed out of the office.

Smiling after her colorful assistant, in both plumage and behavior, Rita Paris smiled. Sliding off the edge of the desk, she headed to the sink to wash out her own cup. It was a good duty up here, and as much time as she had spent in the simulators and Monadie beside her, the avain officer had qualified even higher. Rita Paris was not the best pilot in her department. Not the best pilot on the ship, even. But she could fly her, and just about anything else. For now, that would have to be good enough. She was going to have a lot on her shoulders in the weeks and months to come. It was nice to see that her assistant was willing to pull some of the load as well, because Rita suspected these were going to be dangerous times. And in dangerous times it was hard to get that report filed by 17:00 hours.

The Hera would be in good hands with the colorful Mona Gonadie at the helm. That would make it easier Rita Paris to leave her when duty called.

Morning came too early, as it often did for Asa. They woke from a refreshing slumber in their new quarters to the gentle chime of their alarm beckoning forth the day. Mid way through their morning stretches Asa froze.

“Oh gods. I meet the Captain in an hour,” they spoke to the empty room.

Asa deliberately completed the stretching regimen they adopted growing up on Bajor. It had been taught as part of a religious practice, but Asa still found value in the early morning activity. They had compiled ample research on the value of physical activity to justify continuing the ritual to their anti-religious way of thinking.

Once limber, Asa chugged a breakfast drink in three huge slurps, brushed their teeth, and took a quick rinse off while rehearsing the upcoming meeting with the captain in their mind. Looking in the mirror practicing friendly-yet-professional-smiles, Asa ruminated to themselves.

Oh gods, if I make a bad impression, it will set the tone for my entire time on this ship. If my first posting goes poorly, then my whole career is tanked. If my career with StarFleet doesn’t work out I can’t advance medicine, and if I can’t do that I’m going to be a failure my whole life- AND THAT IS FOR ANOTHER 500 FREAKING YEARS!!! Oh Gods, I should just call it quits now and transport myself into space. It would be quicker.

Settling on a facial expression, Asa dressed in their uniform; at least that much they knew they could get right. Exiting their quarters and walking to the turbolift, they realized they left their tricorder on the bedside table and sprinted through the corridor to retrieve it. The young doctor arrived five minutes early to the turbolift that would take them directly to the bridge and began to pace up and down the nearby corridor.

Now I look like an absolute maniac pacing in front of a lift door. I look like the biggest idiot to ever be allowed to go anywhere ever. Pull yourself together, Asa. Don’t let anyone see what a disaster you are. Gods, the elders were right, I was way too young to leave home, much less serve on a ship. Ok, time to go. Smile on, and press the button. You got this.

The lift gently rose to the bridge, doors opening with a pleasant swishing sound. Asa sucked in their breath quickly, reminding themself which direction to walk to the Captain’s ready room. They put their shoulders back and stood as tall as their stature would allow. Combined with the effort of smiling and trying not to goggle at their surroundings, Asa was certain their new crewmates were looking at them wondering who let a hairless bipedal giraffe on board.

Lifting their hand, Asa rang the chime to the Captains ready room and mentally steeled themselves for whatever may come.

"Come in!" called Enalia, looking up from her desk terminal's holographics and clicking them off for the moment. Seeing the tall woman, she squinted, trying to remember who this was and if they were her next appointment. She'd had so many transfers over the past week, it was starting to get hard to remember all the new names and faces. "You are... Our new surgeon and assistant medical Chief, right? Doctor Dael? Please, come in and have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"

Asa hurridly took the indicated seat and perched on the very edge, back as straight as they could make it. "Yes Captain, I am Lieutenant Junior Grade Dael. Um, no thank you, nothing to drink."

Their voice was slightly reedy with intimidation, but Asa was trying their best to maintain the confident smile they spent the morning practicing.

"It's a pleasure meeting you. I was confused by something in your records though. If you don't mind..." Enalia took a moment to pull up the woman's file. "Could you please confirm your age for me?"

Asa took a steadying breath. Thankfully they had already practiced their particular question in the mirror this morning; it wasn't a hard one to predict, it was often something people wondered about. "Twenty seven, Captain. I assure you, I am fully versed and trained in all required Starfleet training and medical knowledge."

The spotted captain shook her head and smiled politely. "Just checking. The last El-Aurian we had aboard was over four hundred years old and didn't look really any older than you so I really can't judge. Of course, he also caused a time travel fiasco on one of our missions and nearly caused a time-space fucknado that would have consumed this whole universe... You're not going to do anything like that, are you?"

Asa gulped, wishing they had accepted an offer of a drink, if for no other reason than to have something to do with their hands. "No Captain, I endeavor to cause minimal fucknados," they replied, attempting a genuine smile at the term.

"Excellent," Enalia replied, clicking her terminal back off and leaning back in her chair. "Well then, welcome aboard the Hera. We fall under Intel Command and most of our missions never see the light of day. You should expect to deal with some rather unusual injuries along the way. Nothing too exotic, mind you. Things like people being bitten by giant infectious animals, gored by minotaurs, shot repeatedly by experimental weapons in secret laboratories... Things like that."

Asa's face lit up at the information. "That sounds like an excellent chance to help others and learn about new environments. I look forward to the challenge. I mean, not that I want anyone to get hurt..." they trailed off, realizing the misstep in their enthusiasm.

"Yeah, it would be best if no one got hurt... But it seems someone does on every away mission. Hence why we need a skilled surgeon like yourself." Enalia couldn't help but smile at Asa's enthusiasm. "So what are your goals while aboard? Is there anything I can help with?"

Asa felt immediate relief and gratitude that their enthusiasm was not misconstrued. "In addition to serving the crew, I would like to investigate any pathogens or diseases we come across, in a safe manner of course. Immunology and pathology are passions of mine, as is discovering new methods for administering medicines."

Enalia grinned wider. She had a suspicion that Asa would be a very good asset to the crew. "I'll have to clear you for the classified database of pathogens then. We've had to shut down experimental bio-weapons labs before and I suspect we'll have to do so again in the future. One of our missions, we had to destroy a Romulan station that was experimenting with combining Borg nanotech with the Kobali virus to produce... Ah... I'll let you read about that disaster later... Just... I don't recommend watching the body cams from the EV suits. It was pretty gruesome."

Asa suppressed a shudder, "I can imagine, Captain. Gods, Borg nanotech is bad enough...I look forward to reading it. What would you like me to focus on, if I may ask, Captain?"

"For now, we need to make sure the crew is healthy and ready for what may come. We also need all medical data we have on the human gods compiled. They've appeared to other races, but conveniently, most of them have focussed on Earth for some reason so it's what we're calling them for now until we get them to tell us what their actual racial name is." Enalia clicked her terminal on again and pulled up a holographic display of one of the scans covertly taken of Hermes. "We know they have a special organ that can convert energy into other things but that they need a power generator. They also consume mental energy in the form of worship and praise, it seems. Apollo could create lightning. Danu can create healing energy. We need countermeasures against them, their powers, and their tech in case more come calling."

"Excellent!," Asa replied, "I look forward to compiling research on this! Just think, if we could replicate and transplant the energy conversion organs into field personnel with photosynthetic energy processes, why, the number of people who perish from lack of resources could be so greatly reduced! When can I begin, Captain?"

Their puppy-dog energy was reaching fever pitch, and the young El-Aurian was practically vibrating with excitement. A new challenge! After the long days of skills reinforcement in the academy they relished the possibility of being of use.

"I also look forward to meeting the crew. I hope to make the physicals as quick and painless as possible."

"You can begin right away... ah..." Enalia glanced towards her terminal nervously, wondering if she should mention a Section 31 project that had tried to do the exact same thing with humans some years back after Kirk and the Enterprise had encountered Apollo. The experiment had gone poorly, the augments being able to absorb an average of twenty one thousand calories per day after the procedure and being unable to use even a quarter of them even under the best conditions. The other experiments along the same lines were similar failures, resulting in the deaths of all subjects as far as she knew. "I might release classified experiment data to you as well, in case they prove useful. Just promise me that nothing will come of it, ok?"

"Of course Captain," Asa replied, "I will report any findings or proposals to the Chief Medical Officer and any other officers you request. The crews safety is my utmost concern."

"Excellent. It sounds like you have everything well in hand then. If you need anything from me, just let me know." Enalia smiled and nodded. "Do you have any questions for me?"

"No, Captain. My dossier indicates my next meeting is a formal meeting with Lieutenant Commander Paris, I look forward to seeing her again, and meeting with the Chief Medical Officer."

Lieutenant Dael was practically buzzing with the possibility of a new mystery to crack. They had long desired to see the mysteries the universe held, and turn those mysteries into ways to improve the lives of all sentient beings. The unconsciously were sitting up even straighter, if such a thing were possible, and their eyes were bright with excitement.

Enalia couldn't help but grin wider at her enthusiasm and wonder if she was ever that young and full of energy. "Well then welcome aboard. It's good to have you as a part of the team. Dismissed."

"Yes Captain, Thank you!" Asa said as they practically sprinted back to their quarters to read and prepare for the meeting with the first officer.

"Sooooooo..." Paris snuck up on the captain as she was trying to leave the bridge. "I've got an idea how to use the last day of shore leave to give my flight crew some experience."

"Experience?" Enalia asked, eyeing Rita as she headed across the bridge towards the turbolift, motioning for the buxom pilot to enter first. As they got in, she set their destination. "Deck ten lounge."

"Nobody takes shuttles. Beaming is so much more efficient and easier. Bringing your gear? Have it beamed in. Shuttlecraft are becoming a thing of the past, except for long distance hauls. They've become space bus drivers. But we're in a civilized system, where people want to throw money at convenience. And you can't beam from one world to the next. So, let's advertise our service, chew up bandwidth and airtime on everything because we can, because shy of the fortress we have a pretty commanding comm setup."

Stepping off the lift, it deposited them down the hall from the entryway to Ten Forward, the traditional starship lounge.

"We'll advertise an intersystem shuttle service, call it 'Hera Now'. Blast the airwaves about it- I have an idea for an ad campaign- and let the repetition take hold. Our pilots will get flight time, they will have interesting experiences and they will be accompanied by a security officer, whose priorities will be the pilot then the craft. Passengers if they are not hostile. Anyway," Paris waved her hand idly. "The calls for the service will come through ops, they'll send the signal to helm, who will plot a course, which science will then scan for hazards and the bundle goes back to ops who transmits it all to the shuttlecraft, and off they go. Helm will also be an air traffic controller in all of this, supplementing system traffic control."

"It's not practice in a war zone, heck, it's not thoroughly dignified. But it is time behind the stick for your pilots, and that will mean a lot to them, I think. Meanwhile I'll pull the plug and see how my old countdown to liftoff goes in the far-flung future of the twenty-fourth century. Buck Rogers got nothin' on me," Rita Paris grinned at her surprisingly cool life as she settled on a barstool.

"That's not a bad sales pitch, but it invades on the already established services, doesn't it? Plus I can't authorize the use of Starfleet hardware for something like that. We'd have to use the shuttles on the fortress for it." Looking up at the roof of the lounge as she sat down as well, Enalia thought about it for a bit. "If you could arrange for our pilots to do it on their time... Using Artan shuttles... And volunteer privateers as security... Schwein might be able to help with that..."

"Wit all due respect, captain?" Rita waited for the signal of indulgence, then launched into her counter. "If we aren't taking pay for it, Starfleet doesn't object because we are not misusing Starfleet property. We aren't impinging that much on the existing services. It's for 24 hours- we may be a fiscal impact for a day, but we're not wiping them out. And we need our pilots to be able to pilot our craft, ma'am. It is an official exercise, thus why we are using official resources. We're scrambling our pilots for maneuvers. This is like a practice evacuation, but coordinated by the civilians for us. No randomizers needed and Starfleet might just like the idea. Call it the 'Civilian Scramble'."

The first officer held up her hands. "Or Artan shuttles, off duty pilots and privateers. On your orders, Captain. Tonic water on the rocks with a twist of line," Paris rolled smoothly into her drink order.

The spotted woman took a deep sigh before ordering a drink. "I'll have a glass of my special." As the barkeep poured their orders, Enalia thought about it a bit more. "Cutting into the profits of the existing systems is only part of it. Existing traffic control won't be happy. Neither will the other families. Of the eighteen families that control this system, mine isn't the most powerful..."

"So there is a much larger political game to consider. Did not know that," Paris sipped at her virgin cocktail, stirring the slender straw as she considered. "Likely they would view it not only as a disruption, but Starfleet and you flexing military muscle in system as a show of force, which would be very open to interpretation. So, okay, point made ma'am. Looks like I'll be filing that request for maneuvers with Starfleet on a moon somewhere. Not as much fun, but still counts as flight time and doesn't start trouble where there currently is none."

Enalia nodded as she took a swig of the amber liquid in her glass. "Which is why I recommended using the Artan shuttles. Most are decommissioned Starfleet junkers we gathered over the past hundred years. As for clients, if you don't mind having them run ore and maintenance crews for a day, I'm sure Captain Magnus wouldn't mind. No way to step on people's toes but they get to dodge asteroids with... Ahem... Real world damage to shuttles similar enough to ones we use now."

The friendly first officer raised her tumbler. "An elegant solution, ma'am. Thanks for walking me through it. I'll coordinate with the baroness and scramble the rest as discussed, save for the advertising campaign. And if they can learn to pilot rustbuckets, they will be great with modern shuttles. Ore and maintenance crews it is, volunteers only. No need for security but privateer ride-alongs if you like."

"They'll need someone to tell them where to go and who they're meeting. Baroness will make sure everyone you send them with is trustworthy as well so there's no mishaps." Enalia raised her glass as well before taking a long draw off of it.

"Thanks for the indulgence, Captain. It'll mean a lot to the flight crews, and I'll check with Thex, then if she's game inform the engineers if they want to come play as well. Never hurts to have a mechanic along for the ride." Paris took a drink, then eyed the captain. "This is how you work? Nice easy, simple, watch for the hazards to steer through them, but keep moving forward?" It was phrased not as a statement or judgment, but as a question.

"Isn't that how most people deal with things? Focus on the solution, rather than the problem?" Eyeing Rita, Enalia sipped at her drink a bit more.

That earned her a surprised take, followed by a shake of the short-haired blonde's head. "Surely you've served under other commanders, ma'am? Other superiors? You didn't walk out of the Academy a Captain, even if your service record is sealed. Common sense isn't always so common, particularly where ego gets involved, in my experience. Not everyone is focused on the solution so much as being right. This," Rita raised a her glass again, "is a welcome change of pace."

Enalia chuckled softly. "I took command of the Hera as a Lieutenant Commander right after her first refit. Before that, I ran ferry missions for command. In a way, I've never not been captain of my own ship. As for being right... I've made mistakes before. The solution to a problem sometimes isn't the right thing to do. When that happens, you'll see how I deal with it."

“I already have seen how you deal with such things, ma’am, and if ever I don’t approve, you’ll hear about it. Respectfully,” Paris added as a reassurance. “I’ve served under commanders good and bad. Captain Stuart always tried to rush everything and he’d spring things on me constantly- made me crazy but it did keep me on my toes. But I’ve had plenty who just took an instant dislike to me, be it how I fill out the uniform, my name, my looks, one couldn’t stand my height, a few just decided I had a bad attitude, which basically guarantees it… the list goes on. My favorites are the ones I spend my time asking probing questions, and they never realize they come across as just arrogant blowhards with no interest in anything beyond themselves.”

"I have great interest in the abilities and lives of my crew. If they have great abilities, they stay alive and I keep my crew." Finishing her drink off, Enalia looked over at Rita. "I mean, there's a lot more to it than that... But that's what it boils down to. Crew is family and sending them off to their deaths if they're not capable isn't the best feeling. You have to keep your crew safe, you know?"

“Yes ma’am, I do,” Paris agreed. “No one signed on with Starfleet to die in the line of duty. I’ve escaped death plenty of times and cheated it with a fate worse than death a time or two, but every life entrusted to us is precious. I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t have to write any of those ‘regret to inform you’ letters, captain.” For a change, the cheerful chrononaut was actually somber as she made her vow.

"Thank you," Enalia tapped her glass for a refill and spoke as the barkeep obliged. "I've written far too many of those things. So many, I have it on a template that's auto-populated. This command takes a toll on you but we've saved a lot more lives than we can imagine. This may sound bad, but the Federation has a lot of enemies out to destroy it and without section thirty one out doing the evil things they did to prevent them from destroying it, we have to walk the line between light and dark to do their old job. Without falling to darkness, we lose some people..." Taking her now full glass, the somber captain downed it all in one go.

“Sometimes to do a good thing you have to do a bad thing,” Paris quoted simplistically. “I know my old-school Starfleet optimism might not always be what you need, ma’am, but since we will probably be in murky waters from time to time, I’m your navigator and your pilot. I’ll do my best to steer you right and remind you to look up at the stars sometime, and I will be that voice that appeals to your better nature. That’s part of my job too. I won’t ever try to tell you what you have to do, but I will sometimes remind you of the right thing to do… when you need it.” Taking a chance, the golden gal placed her hand on the captain’s shoulder.

“I owe you far too much to let you falter, Captain Telvan,” the pretty pilot postulated. “I’ll watch your back, speak up when I need to and I’ll be here to listen when you need someone to hear you.” Patting the captain’s shoulder, the throwback officer removed her hand lest rumors start around the ship of just how the antique officer had been promoted to First Officer through sexual favors- a rumor Paris was all too familiar with from every command she’d ever served and every promotion she’d ever earned.

"I think in this case, you're exactly what I need in a first officer. The butter to my jam, as it were." Grinning, Enalia set her glass aside and turned to Rita. "I just hope you'll let me go on a few safe away missions now and then."

The confused cosmonaut from a very different era wrinkled her brows together in confusion. "What do you mean, 'let you', ma'am? You're the Captain- if you say you're going, I go with you unless it's my orders to hold the ship. That's how starships run... isn't that the way Starfleet does it here in the future?"

"It's also your job to remind me that my place is on the bridge, and since I've almost died twice from bacteria carried by biting insects..." Enalia pointed to Rita at this juncture. "The first time right after the joining with my symbiont while on Earth by a... moss-quit-oh or something that sounds like a southern Trill food platter..."

Eyes narrowed, Paris leaned in to eye the captain. "This is a trick, right? I'm supposed to remind you to stay on the bridge? How can you assess the situation and explore the planet from the bridge with what, the sensors? Is that... that's how we do it, now? Just... stay on the ship...?"

"Do I look Vulcan to you? Are my ears pointed? Is my blood green? Am I leaping through logic all nimbly-bimbly?" Enalia grinned wider. "No. As first officer, you'll be leading all away missions that don't require my personal attention. I recommend you get fitted for a suit of armor and train on our primary weapons while you're at it."

The sudden paradigm shift threw Paris off. "Wait, armor?!? What happened to 'we come in peace'? Oh... ohhhhhh..." Realization settled in as the throwback Terran started putting it together. "We're a Starfleet Intel vessel. We don't do first contact. We go after dangerous things in dangerous places, and lots of the time, it's dangerous. So I go in to do the recon or secure the objective while you monitor from orbit lending intel and support... oh." Paris blinked a few times, then sought the eyes of the captain.

"Something like that?"

"Exactly. On top of that, our next mission will likely involve literal mythological creatures again." Enalia probably shouldn't have said that in public, but the crew would find out soon enough anyway. They might as well start the rumor mill now.

"My first impulse is the open hand, not one clenching a phaser, Captain. I'll fight if I have to, but I'm a runner by nature." The old-fashioned idealist explained. "I'm no indestructible Valkyrie, ma'am, and I really have a lot to live for. I'll take the risks and pursue the mission, but I'm not a Marine. I'd rather make peace than war. So you understand my position, and I have to ask if you're okay with that?"

Enalia replied simply. "Then be a leader. Pilot the shuttle and lead the team. Let them do the fighting if and when it comes to that."

"Not at all what I meant, ma'am. I wouldn't respect a leader who led from the rear, and that wasn't how I was taught to lead." Paris shifted in her seat, clearly a bit uncomfortable. "I'm just saying that violence is always a possibility, but I prefer trying to find peaceable solutions when they are possible. And I am trying to convey that to you so that if it'll be a problem you can tell me now. I'm starting to get the impression you are trying to tell me we are going to war, ma'am... is that the case?"

Enalia shook her head. "No, we do our best to prevent wars. We also destroy labs and facilities that shouldn't exist. On top of that, we're oftentimes sent in after diplomacy and other teams have failed. It's a nice sentiment, being able to come in peace, but we're usually the ones to clean up the remains of the ones that got eaten coming in peace. Our tactics usually entail hostile negotiations once we're sure the other side isn't interested in talking. However, we have had our share of non-violent missions. The mission to see Danu... The away team had to go through a series of traumatizing trials... Ah, the mission to ... No that ended in a fight with a minotaur and a bunch of Amazons and Harpies... Ah, the mission to... No... We were ambushed by pirates... Shit..."

Concern furrowed the brow of the first officer as she digested all of this. Working for Starfleet Intelligence wasn't the same as working for Starfleet- especially the version of Starfleet she was accustomed to. They were the dangerous people who went places that no one ever heard of and did things no one would ever hear about. They moved in the shadows.

Looking out of the Deck 10 viewport Paris could still see the saucer section if she tried, and the ship was, to her eye, very, very black. The uniforms were black. This was the starship that had drawn her in and saved her life- one which lived in the shadows.

Now she dwelt in the shadows too- an impossible girl who shouldn't be here, shouldn't be alive and shouldn't have a stoic Vulcan scientist by her side. Yet in defiance of all reality, here she was. Turning her gaze to the captain, Rita Paris considered. Compassion had its place, but she had still run her phaser out of charge on Deneva fighting the neural parasites infesting the planet. She'd shot Klingons who were shooting at her, and not always on heavy stun. She's disrupted a Romulan while they wrestled for his disruptor. By her hand the Exeter had blown vessels out of space- hell, it had been her plan that had destroyed the USS Revenge with all hands aboard.

No stranger to violence, Rita was no saint.

That didn't mean she had to be bloodthirsty, but these would be dangerous missions. Captain Telvan was convincing her to arm and armor up because she would be stepping over those poor Starfleet personnel who came in peace, or who had fared poorly against whatever phenomenon they had encountered. The future, thus far, had squared her off against her possessed shipmates and the starship's computer itself, and that was just her first mission. It was, it seemed, a more dangerous age- and she now traveled aboard a starship who went dangerous places.

Grudgingly, Paris nodded. "I'll still try peace ma'am. But I suppose I see your point- if when peace fails they send us in, peace has a pretty low chance of being the answer. But I have to try... although I suppose I can try from behind the visorplate of something a bit more sturdy than a miniskirt."

The spotted captain nodded somberly, having watched the realization sink in on the lost navigator's face. "If it's any consolation, peace has been very effective in the Federation. There are almost two hundred member civilizations on the Federation Council, almost eight thousand affiliate member planets, and we've made contact with over sixteen thousand sentient species. The fact that there are only a handful of Intel ships and only one like ours means that diplomacy does work. There just has to be someone willing to live in the shadows, hence why we get to have vacation at our own private resort rather than the normal facilities."

A wry chagrin settled over the face of the Starfleet officer of a much more innocent time. "Well, I've cheated death so very many times now, I suppose this latest new life of mine was bound to have a cost. I'll have to find a way to balance my ideals with the situations into which we find ourselves thrust." Paris idly poked at the ice cubes of her mostly empty virgin cocktail with the slender straw.

"That reminds me- your permission, I'm putting Thex in for the Bronze Star. I've never met a braver officer who was willing to damn near get herself killed for a shipmate. Well, other than..." The retro throwback officer chuckled slightly, cocking her head and nodding for a second. "Anyway, she deserves it, and I plan to submit it to you for review and recommendation. And commendations for those two security officers as well, though they're both transferred off."

"I just put her in for the Cross of Valor for the same thing. Might as well put both in and see which one gets kicked back." Enalia was always up for more awards for the crew, especially for things they could actually mention in the official records.

"Great minds," Rita held up her glass in a cheer. "This is going to be one hell of an adventure, isn't it?"

"One we may never be able to tell, not that anyone would believe us," Enalia replied, lifting her glass as well.

It took work and self control to time her request until the captain was in the middle of taking a drink, but Paris worked for her comedy. "By the way... would you be willing to officiate my wedding before we cast off?"

As Enalia's glass was still empty from earlier, there was really no comedic effect. Enalia was also somewhat expecting this, but nowhere near this early. Setting the glass aside, she nodded solemnly, and pulled Rita into a tight hug. "Our little girl is all grown up! We can have it in the family cathedral! Maica can walk you down the aisle! We can even give you an Artan family flyby!"

Surprised by the hug, Rita still gladly went along with it. Again, this wasn't going to help that nepotism case. Her reputation on this boat was guaranteed to be very interesting. "Why am I not surprised that you already have event planning- ah. Not the first time this has happened, Check."

"Thanks ma'am," Rita Paris pulled back from the hug and shrugged, a dopey grin on her face. "I would very much appreciate all of that, and theoretically he is finding me a nice little touristy beach with terrible food and seafood shacks and souvenir shops and a hotel with an ocean view, sunrise or sunset side I don't care. I'm going to take advantage of 48 hours of the shore leave you so generously offered."

Seeing the expression on her commanding officer's face, Paris made a twitchy squinched up face at her captain. "I took like an entire 24 hour liberty with Thex! I left the ship!"

"Did you now? Have you ever heard of the term 'mandatory fun'?" Enalia would get her first officer to have some relaxation time before command sent them back out into the unknown even if she had to make it a direct order. "But seriously, there's a cathedral that no one is allowed into except for ceremonies. I've only been in it three times. Once for my coming of age ceremony and once for my sister's. The third time was for a wedding. If you want to get married there, just say the word."

"I am well and duly flattered, Captain. Thank you for the generous offer. But... here. On the Hera, eh? If not for her I would have dissipated in deep space and no one would have ever known. If not for her I couldn't have been able to contact Sonak, so that he could find me. She's a big part of this too," Paris patted the bulkhead fondly. "A cathedral wedding would probably be a grand affair I'm sure, ma'am. But, see... I'm a Starfleet career gal." Rita plucked at the hem of the skirt of her vintage minidress uniform. "I've already got my wedding dress."

"Fair enough. Another flight deck wedding it is then." Enalia knew when to quit and this was it. "I'll still call in the fortress' maids to do setup and teardown though."

"Catering on the flight deck? Invite and feed the crew?" Paris asked, assuming Captain Telvan's generosity would extend to invite the crew to the party. It seemed a piratical code sort of thing to do, to Rita's mind.

"That's generally how it's done. We'll need enough cake for about twelve hundred people. Engineering will have to check the flight deck life support systems." Tapping her comm badge, Enalia had immediate plans to make and little time to make them in.

"Enalia to Maica- get the Fortress kitchen maids in overdrive. We're having a wedding on the Hera's flight deck, and everyone is invited!"

Raymond McBain lead the way into security to the front desk. "Good day. I am Ensign Raymond McBain and this is LTJG Asa Dael. We are here to be fitted with MACO Recon armor and for her to select a sidearm. We will both require firing range time with the TR-116c as well so I would like a schedule to see what openings Lieutenant Dael is free to be available." His deep voice was soft and pleasant, like he was just ordering lunch at a sit-down cafe.

Hiking her way up the Jeffries Tubes were a pastime of the old-time officer. Physical activity kept her from getting bogged down and bored to death by endless reports and schedules and meetings, which the forst officer of the USS Hera had aplenty these days. But right now she was coming up from Main Engineering, and through the hatch port as she encountered a landing on Deck 11, she spied the new infiltration expert and the new doctor entering Security.

I asked him to look in on them and help them along... Security? Taking them to the range to determine skill? Oh, if I've got this right I am well and duly pleased. Leaning against the ladder rungs, Paris produced her ever-present PaDD and moved a meeting back another 15 minutes. There was another onboarding coming in 45 minutes, but she could still afford to spare a few minutes to see how this was developing.

Exiting the Jeffries tube, the gold-clad commander marched to the Security shack, as they'd called it back in her day, and slid in behind the two officers. She made no attempt at stealth- though her boots were heeled, they were soft landing tread. That didn't mean she took pains to be silent- on duty she preferred to be visible, audible and communicative.

"Officers," she greeted them from behind.

McBain turned at the voice he knew "Commander Paris, we are here to be fitted with MACO armor as you spoke of to me earlier. We will be in the holodeck after to familiarize with the armor a bit later. You are welcome to join us if you like." Mcbain was pretty good at controlling his expression, but his eyes drifted to the First Officer's breast and he was wondering how those would fare even held inside body armor? "Do you have your own armor already Commander?" After all she had hinted she would be coming along in a fashion when they had spoken earlier.

The buxom blonde noticed the questioning eye, and she didn't misread the intention in the least. "No, Mr. McBain, I have never even seen one of these body armor suits in person. This is all completely new technology to me- in my day the suits were bulky and restrictive, designed for protection from the harsh vacuum and little else. I suspect I'll have to be something of a custom fit, though," she remarked with a wry smile. rolling her eyes skyward. "Looks like I dropped in at an opportune moment, then."

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander! I am excited to try a suit out on the Holodeck with McBain, but I admit, I'm a bit concerned about the fit myself. It seems even custom-uniforms wind up bagging in all the wrong placed on me. But he seems confident, I'm sure this will be great. So McBain, who's up first?"

McBain looked from Paris to Dael and raised his hands "Normally I would say ladies first but in this case since I have done this before I will go first." He smiled calmly "We will be measured hologaphically with a body suit replicated from the perfect measurements. That will be the base for the rest of the suit. We can check the computer but the armor will be designed to also hold our gear. Asa you will need to decide on a sidearm at least. As a medic you normally need not carry a rifle? Commander Paris what say you?"

"Naval tradition dictates that medical personnel carry a sidearm," the old-school officer recited as she tapped away at the tablet in her hands, adding, "A phaser is a tool, after all, and it is the personal choice of those who swear by the Hippocratic Oath whether to employ it offensively. Primarily that's a personal code, because most of the universe doesn't care that you're sworn to do no harm."

"Quite right, Mr. McBain- no rifle for the good doctor, I'd agree. But I need to lean into one and familiarize myself. And you are welcome to qualify with the type 3 weapons if you like Myx Dael." Paris looked up from her research, confirming. "Starfleet has no regulations limiting you in this regard, and you may be as lightly or heavily armed as you prefer."

McBain followed the security crewmen at the desk inside the room. The security crewmen pointed everything out before returning to the front desk. McBain went to the platform and punched in his name and position. The XO being here would make this process go smoother if there was to be a hitch. The computer accepted his access though and he stepped on the platform.

For the next three minutes the system took a holographic image and allowed for a certain amount of expansion. The entire time the holographis image scanned McBain from head to toe. When McBain stepped out the base uniform appeared at the replicator. It was a sort of body glove but the material was tough despite its flexibility. McBain picked up the uniform and pointed to the machine. Who wants fitted next?" McBain pointed to changing stalls "I will put my on while you have yours fitted and made. This is step one."

"May as well. I can make small talk while I get scanned... I imagine this is anticipating muscle movements and so forth to reinforce the bodysuits where they need it? The future," Paris grinned as she punched in her code and stepped up on the pad. "The future is so very cool. So, Doctor Dael, I see you've met the Captain and you've met your neighbor. You just need an onboarding physical and you're all checked in, aren't you?"

"Yes Lieutenant Commander, that's correct," Asa replied. Having Paris and McBain here together was putting their nerves at ease. "And I prefer to stick to a phaser if you please, and of course I'll have my medical tricorder with me. It would be a good idea to have a pouch for emergency injections too. If we are going into an environment where a phaser would be unwise, energy weapon and whatnot, I prefer to stick to a knife. I know how to use that to minimize harm."

"Good thinking, Doctor. I like where your head's at," the first officer offered with an encouraging grin as the holographic measuring scan continued. "I suppose I should come up with some customization of my own other than 'pack me my phaser and a tricorder like the old days, and throw in a rifle'. I have one idea, but beyond packing a medkit I'm a bit stumped. Any ideas for the old lady, Doc?"

"Backup power supply for phasers? Universal translator to loan to others if needed? Rope? Good old fashioned pen and paper.. come to think of it I should have that too...," Asa trailed off.

"All good ideas, Doc. Do you object to the shortening? Some prefer their entire titles- Dr. Lang hated to be referred to as Lieutenant, for instance. Universal translator... good idea, that. I live with a Vulcan and I know maybe a dozen words in his language? I assume the comsat gear in the helmets will offer the function of a tricorder in a HUD, which covers an awful lot of ground, and these things have heads up displays I am sure are to die for. Buck Rogers," Paris grinned like a school kid at the physician. "In the 24th century. Here's to the future."

"Doc is fine. I admit, I don't know all the ins and outs of what the helmets can do. Any insight, McBain?"

McBain came out in a dark green uniform that had feet, gloves, and a hood. Only his face was uncovered, "The helmet is pretty tech heavy. Communicator, universal translator, speaker so your voice can be heard outside the suit clearly. The visor has several call up screens to view various data streams and visual enhancements. It not only allows you to see almost any light spectrum but it will guard your eyes against flares or flashes. It has enhanced hearing so the normal isolation of wearing a helmet does not occur. Again it has protections built in to protect the wearers hearing just like it protects the wearers vision. It seals to the suit for hostile environments. It takes a bit of getting used to but once you are acclimatized to the helmet it is second nature to use all features."

McBain looked between the two officers "that answer the question? How are you two making out with the first layer?"

"It does. I'm just waiting for my timer to let me know I'm well and thoroughly scanned, which the ship's sensors are always doing passively- isn't that an odd realization? At any rate, I think I'm about done..." At that, the system powered down and the replicator shimmered the custom curvaceous body glove into existence. Stepping down from the scanner, the leggy lieutenant eyed the clingy material. "Ah, do we use talc or lube to get into these, McBain?"

While Paris was navigating the logistics of donning the newglove, Asa stepped into the scanner. They tried not to squirm while the scanner worked its magic.

McBain laughed and was going to make a comment that the suit was not rubber or latex, but refrained. "It goes on easy as cotton, Commander ,but feel free to use whatever you wish. The sensors in the uniform will scrub away anything that is not hygienic to you.”

As the dubious first officer retired to a changing room to wrestle into the constrictive garment, McBain went to the computer terminal and began the replication of the second layer that would attach to this layer to become one piece. That would be the flexible armor plating and the exoskeleton. Actuators at each joint of arm and legs that would increase speed, jumping distance, and strength by a factor of three. It would also contain the power supply for the suit. Once the power supply was activated the first time the two layers would sort of fuse together to become the basic armor. The boots were about twelve inches high and felt much like a running shoe. They were light and flexible, not as thin and flexible as the armored gloves though. McBain began the process for his own and for Commander Paris’ suit as well.

Pieces of McBain’s second layer were appearing as Asa was finishing with their holographic scan. Their body glove appeared in a different replicator area. "Asa, this will go on much like normal clothing, so when putting it on, just do whatever you do when you get dressed in the morning."

Asa ducked into a changing room and stared at the garment. They were a bit unsure of this, but with a minimum amount of wriggling found their way into the suit.

Huh. He was right, no weird bagging. There’s something to this holographic tailoring. Maybe I should look into ways to get all my clothing done this way. Kinda nice to not have baggy butt. Asa thought.

Loading in Asa's stat-line, all three secondary layers were being replicated in short order. McBain nodded as Paris appeared from the changing booth, the very snug body glove clinging to her rather extreme curves in an improbable manner that definitely did not seem likely to lend themselves to armor plating. "I took the liberty of beginning the replication of the second layer for all three of us. One word of caution- do not activate the power supply till you have the second layer completely on. Myself, I start with the boots and work my way up."

“Thank you, Mr. McBain. This should prove to be interesting if nothing else,” Paris chuckled, collecting the hard armor plates and actuators to lay them out so she could begin wrestling into them. Starting with the boots, she began layering her way upward.

The young doctor decided to follow suit and started with boots as well, adding the hard exterior legs and then torso pieces on. They felt decidedly awkward now, and an odd sense of relief from the awkward finally kicking in. After all, Asa knew it would be weird at some point, and vindication is always nice.

They smiled at the other two however, and kept feigning confidence in themself. “So, how do we turn this puppy on?” Asa asked.

"You just flick the switch like so." McBain hit an activation tab on the chest as he spoke. "You will feel a squeezing pressure as the exoskeleton and the body glove bond into one uniform. The socks should sort of bouncy once the process is complete. There are several sensory indicators that should all be green in a minute or so. Any that stay red are a problem. That is extremely rare." McBain stopped talking for about twenty seconds as the suit squeezed and set. Afterward, it felt no heavier than a regular uniform would.

Meanwhile, the curvaceous commander seemed determined to move and stretch while the plates worked to bond with the bodysuit. Jogging in place and bouncing a bit, it was clear Paris was trying to get a feel for the biosuit even though it was quite alien to her experience. Rolling her neck a bit, the buxom bombardier stretched her shoulders a bit, flexing her fingers as the suit settled on her frame.

McBain watched till both officers relaxed than he went around both checking each sensory check light. As he did that he spoke up again "Once we are all green we will each sit at a terminal and begin making the rigid outer armor sections. They will be in 3D and you can customize them to a wide extent. Cargo pockets, holsters, scabbards, or other equipment are all up to the wearer. I will show you mine once completed if you like?"

“All green here,” the first officer reported, beginning to compile a mental list of outer armor requests, including a holster for her particular antique type 2 phaser.

“All green here too,” Asa reported, moving towards an empty terminal.

"I always start low and work up. It is like a clamshell, Just swings around and seals shut. Lower leg, upper leg, lower and upper arm, and the body. This is the third and last layer, it locks onto the exoskeleton and becomes one suit. Just lock in the rack like that one and climb free or climb in whichever way you go. So each piece has load bearing capability it's just up to you what you place where."

Asa began locking the pieces on to the best of their ability. They never were one for puzzles, but this was fairly intuitive. They mirrored McBain's movements, and gave a moment of thanks to the universe they were able to mirror others motions easily. It was one of the things that helped them become a surgeon, and it appears this was another valuable use of that skill.

Stepping into the bulky suit, Paris was amazed how smoothly it all came together. Confirming that she had the pieces closed she had missed the seals on two of them, and had to resecure them. And putting on the arms first was apparently not the best approach. But the ancient astronaut managed to button up the clamshell. Flipping her short shock of hair out of her face, the cheerful cosmonaut flashed a smile before she slid on her helmet.

Holographics winked to life as the screens and functions began to come to activate and queue themselves, and the gal from the age when starships were controlled by knobs and rocker switches was a bit awestruck in the moment.

McBain smiled as he glanced over Paris, he wondered if she was as much of the Valkyrie as she appeared. His thought were that she was. She had that sort of confidence and attitude to be the real deal. He was putting his suit together around him. He had chosen a soft light absorbent outer layer look to help with stealth. He had all the electronics, lock-picks, and other small toolkits needed in the trades. He then added his chosen weapons.

As he liked using his left hand, he put his pistol on his left hip. The Captain had said to carry ballistic weapons so he carried a heavy 10mm semi-auto pistol. The pistol had the same basic shape as his type II phaser so the two weapons were interchangeable according to need. He carried a tricorder in his right upper leg piece and another in his left forearm. His right forearm was a dart shooter. It was a handy hold-out weapon.

He had throwing blades in various scabbards, a heavy bladed fighting blade in a scabbard on his lower right leg. By the tricorder he had a special pocket made for his Commando tomahawk. It was a tool as well as a weapon and he had spent many hours training with the weapon. He could throw it accurately at forty feet. On his chest he added an extra load bearing layer for demolitions and PaDDs. He stood once it was all put together and took a few steps. Satisfied he walked to a wall rack and clipped his armor in. He opened the chest piece grabbed the overhead bar and pulled himself out with practiced ease. "That is the easiest way I know. Anyone need any help?" He had an easy smile on his face as he looked between the two known members of the away team.

Flipping through the options, Paris chose an adaptable phaser holster with a right hip-slung segmented belt that she suspected might be handy, as she would use it to keep spare power packs for the phaser and rife. A spare comm unit for her left wrist was a part of her plan, along with a basic medkit on her beck and a survival knife in her boot. The segmented plates allowed for a surprising range of motion, and on a lark she selected the stealth coating that duplicated the stealth plating of the Hera. Finding a selection that piqued her interest, she chose the batteries in the shoulder armor that would powers shock gloves. Plus the bulkier shoulders would help keep a rifle strap on her back where she put it. And while she had nothing to put into it, she included a scabbard on her left hip.

“That ought to do for now, at least until I have a chat with Dedjoy,” the buxom blonde bombshell nodded, satisfied with her selections for now. “Doc Dael, you’re up.

Asa created fashioned a pouch for a basic medkit, another for the advanced medical mixing and injections, a holster for their medical tricorder (with an extra battery pack equipped), a holster for the phaser, and hidden spaces for small knives close to the boots and along the chest-plate seam. They also created a holster for a thin-yet-sturdy expandable rope, a small journal and pen, and a canteen. For a finishing touch, Asa added a caduceus and a red cross to the visible portion of the chest shell along the front and back.

"Never hurts to declare oneself a medic, right?" they quizzed the room.

McBain nodded "I would have suggested it but you already did it. I think it is an excellent idea." He looked from Asa to Paris "Commander do you want us to keep these suits here in the armory. Or should we keep them in our quarters so they are handier to get too?" He still had his own weapons locked in a trunk at the foot of his bed. He would move those to the armor now, so it would be ready for deployment at a moment's notice.

"I might put it on the shoulder and not like a cross-hair target on your chest, Doc. But your call," the leggy lieutenant opined. "Tell you what, Mr. McBain. I think I'll be fine to come to the armory to armor up- here's hoping that decision doesn't come back to bite me," Paris clapped the hard plate on her wrist against the round plate covering her rounded rear end.

"You can keep yours in your quarters if you wish- inform security, but you are one of the people we'll count on to be combat ready in short order. So that makes sense. Doc Dael, where you stash your hardshell is up to you." The commander jogged in place for a few seconds, then did a wide waist twist.

"This is going to take some getting used to, but I'm out of time today. Looks like I'll have to schedule some simulator time as well as cross country if I'm going to fly in this rig. All right Ensign, let's see if I learned anything from your demonstration, shall we?" The improbably armored astronaut backed up to the wall rack, took a couple of tries to get her mounted, but once she did she tried the wrong side of the hardshell to pop it own, but once she did, the overhead bar gave her the leverage she needed to swing free.

"Technology of the future," Paris chuckled, then turned to hit the changing room. "Wreck it Rita, whoda thunk it."

Asa glanced at Rita thoughtfully, mouthing to themself "Wreck what? Nothing broke..." and proceeded to fashion some stick on covers for the medical insignias in the event they were needed. They also added symbols to their arms for good measure.

"Well McBain, I think we have a holodeck session, do we not?" the diminutive doctor asked.

Shore leave at the Artan Orbital Family Fortress was drawing to a close, but there were still a few days left. Which meant that Rita Paris had to get a hustle on if she planned to get everything done. Which was no different than any other day of the week for the frenetic first office of the USS Hera, really.

At this moment, she was making her way through main Engineering, looking for the diminutive and acrobatic chief engineer. Because she had a favor or three to ask of her best friend, and Rita hoped Thex was in her usual cheerful and giving mood.

The ship's engineer was in the storeroom off to the side of the engineering bay. It was rank with the scent of oiled metal, plastic and replicators as she kept looking over the list of spare parts that needed to be made, which seemingly wasn’t getting any shorter. The station's holograms could do it, but this way she could make sure she had everything she needed. Thex looked around as the door opened and flashed a smile to Rita. She headed towards her friend and stepped out of the noisy room so she could hear what she was saying. "What can I help you with, Rita?"

Always ready to help, Paris thought to herself as a smile graced her face. The little Andorian had been the first friend she had made on the Hera, who had cheerfully educated Rita on much of what had changed in the time she had missed, and given her someone to turn to when she was lost in a time and place so wholly unfamiliar to her. For that alone she would consider her friend, but the woman had saved her life, damn near at the cost of her own. Quick-thinking and inventive in a crisis, Thex was an exemplary officer and a genuinely good person who did the right thing because it was the right thing to do.

Truth be told, Rita would take a disruptor hit for her pal, all of which ran through her mind before responding.

“Well, I’ll admit, I’ve come with a few favors to ask, Thex. First up, think you can fabricate me a 2266 era phaser with modern interiors to get the same power out of it as a current model dustbuster phaser? It’s silly, I know, but I really am a better shot with a phaser that I can aim as opposed to one with a more ergonomic design.” With that, Rita flipped the PaDD under her arm out to show the specs for the old Type 2 phaser of her era, complete with removable type 1.



"Easily! It may already be in the database… you know how many old techies live in the fleet," The andorian said as she walked over to one of the consoles before she started typing on the flat panel keyboard. “Oh look, someone’s already made one for the older model of phasers. Give me a sec and I'll update it with the latest specs."

Just like that, off she went, interrupting her own work to cheerfully help another. That was Thex, all right. “So while you’re at it, question- and I know I should know this but, gimme a break, I’m new,” Rita joked. “Are starship hulls still made of duranium?”

"Yeah, they're still made out of Duranium. Though it is a reinforced duranium composite now. Makes it harder to scan, and it can take one hell of a beating." The andorian replied as her eyebrows raised slightly. "What's with all the questions, Rita?"

The impish grin that graced the lost navigator’s face was almost bashful by comparison to her usual jubilance, but those baby blues never lied. “I need a couple of rings fabricated, too, if you have time… preferably polished duranium, in a size 8 and a size 9. Because I am getting married today, apparently in front of the entire crew and the universe on the flight deck.”

Poor Thex’s brain had to pause and relisten to her friend's words before she replied. "Well, congratulations my friend. Who's the lucky guy and why do you need the rings for?"

“Puh-lease,” Rita rolled her eyes. “All the time I spent mooning over Sonak… wait, I guess it isn’t common knowledge, is it?” Rita leaned against the door frame and her smile became a wistful one. “Captain and Dedjoy figured out how to send something small back where I came from. So I recorded my chronospatial dimensional coordinates into my old communicator and we shipped it back where I came from, so I could send one last report to my old command. And if they couldn’t rescue me, to request a transfer to the Hera be placed in my record.”

“When he got the message, Sonak went to work. He got here two years ago, returned to his home planet that isn’t blown up here, reunited with his people, then attended a year at the Academy to catch up, so he could graduate top of his class and name his assignment. And he knew exactly the ship to ask for. So… he came aboard yesterday. He’s the new assistant chief science officer.” Rita paused to shrug broadly.

“Explaining to people that I lost my boyfriend to time and space really didn’t summarize what I had lost, so I asked him if maybe we could formalize things a bit so that other people might know what he means to me. Brought it up to the captain, and here we are.” Leaning over a bit, Rita loomed a bit into her plucky pal’s personal space, but more at eye level.

“So that’s why I need the rings, because I don’t need a rock on my finger- starships brought us together and starships will be our destiny, so starship duranium rings seem a logical choice. Of course I will need a maid of honor, to be there with me and bear witness… and I would be honored if you would stand beside me for this, Thex. You are my best friend, and the only person I could possibly imagine standing by my side in that moment.” Paris turned her head slightly to look out from under her brows at her cerulean skinned pal. “Assuming you are willing and available to participate in this spectacle I didn’t exactly plan to have, but you know the Captain…”

Thex let out a warm smile as she wrapped her arms around her friend. "Congratulations, Rita! I don't exactly know what a maid of honour is, but I'll do my part."

“The maid of honor is an Earth tradition that you are there to offer emotional support, and it is supposed to be an honor to be chosen, because that signifies to all gathered that you are the best friend of the bride…” Internally Rita chastised herself for expecting Thex to know what she was asking. Her matings and marriages were 4-way affairs, so it was little surprise the traditions and ceremonies of an alien planet would be unknown to the Andorian engineer. Pulling back from the hug, she continued the explanation.

“That’s the female in the ceremony between a man and a woman, although it can also be two men, two women or two indeterminate gendered individuals. Basically a marriage is a union between two people who are formalizing their commitment. They might have opened that up to include more people, but I’m just familiar with the pairing version. Just me and Sonak. Does that help a little?” Rita eyed her blue-eyed bestie, hoping this made some small amount of sense and that the main ideas were getting through.

"Yeah, that helps. Don't worry, I can get the rings done by then. Do you want me to be coloured, or will the standard metal be okay?" Her blue friend replied.

Briefly Rita considered the outer coating of the Hera, the pearlescent stealth plating that just looked black to her eye. Then she considered that as a wedding band, and shook her head. “No, thank you Thex. Just plain old polished composite duranium grey, please. That will suit us just fine. A simple plain metal band, no adornment, no stone, just smooth edges, none too thick. But on the bright side, it will stop a pressure door from closing in a pinch,” the time-traveling trouble magnet observed. “Oh, and nothing fancy for the ceremony- just your uniform is fine, not even dress uniform. We won’t be wearing them, so there’s no reason for you to look like a snowdrift.”

"So an hour or so?" Rita clarified the timeline. "Not for the phaser, just the rings. I shouldn't need a phaser at my wedding."

Pausing to look around with a concerned expression, Rita pursed her lips. "See, now that I said it, I probably will..."

"Sure, I can whip them up in an hour. Just need to fire up the laser cutter and grab one of the hull plates," the andorian replied with a grin.

"Okay, then call me? Ceremony is at 3 on the flight deck I think, unless this has gotten more out of hand than previously noted." At that, Rita swept her friend up in an unexpected hug. "It's going to be the happiest day of my life, and I want you there with me. Because otherwise it couldn't be my happiest day, right?" Kissing the snow-white haired top of her Thex's head, Rita released the hug and scooted off on some other errand, leaving her slightly dazed companion in her wake.

Thex smiled as Rita hurried off, then started walking towards the storage bay to grab a sheet of the required material. She hoped someday when she found someone who loved her that much, that she could feel as happy as her friend did.

McBain set up an obstacle course that looked like a steeplechase course. It was a two and a half mile course with streams and barriers that would need to crossed, climbed, or avoided. He smiled "First three times is just the physical course as you see it. The next three times will add in hostile targets to shoot at. Than after you have that mastered the basics, we will add in friendly targets for target identification. So you get used to thinking before you pull the trigger."

McBain started to pat them on the back but stopped mid motion. He liked working with Asa but he did not get close to people and physical contact was something he did not assume was welcome. His smile was unwavering just the same "Go slow and get used to the armor enhancements. We will only move to the next step once you are doing the current step with a pass rating in time and displayed skill. He stepped beside them "You want me to run the course first?"

Asa laughed, “If we start at the same time, you will still be running it first. Let’s plan on that.”
Asa was glad they had done their morning stretches when looking at the course. It was reminiscent of the Bestri woods of their youth though, and Asa had run all over the woods looking for (and finding) trouble. They decided to take the first run through for the sheer joy of it to see what their body could still do.

“On your mark, get set…..” Asa said, waiting for McBain to say go.

McBain let them get a step and a half lead before he followed. He had run on wet slippery stones in mountain streams as a child and it had taught him balance and agility. Something his martial arts training had enhanced to a degree that was uncanny to see. He was world class athletic fast in fact. Today was not about him, in fact he needed to be behind them to see how they managed. So he stayed a couple steps behind them as they ran. The first obstacle was a four foot wide stream bed. The next four were hedges only twenty yards apart and about four foot high. Than was a steep twelve foot wall with hand holds for climbing. Each obstacle had about hundred to two hundred yards between them. So those first three encompassed about a quarter of a mile. The suit amplified their jumping and speed by a factor of about three. So if you could jump three feet, with the armor that meant you were capable of a nine foot jump. McBain was content to watch them run and see how quickly they adjusted.


Asa set out at their fastest speed, and quickly realized the mistake. The suit made them...more...somehow in a way that was oddly disconcerting. They had poor coordination at the best of times, and this was like getting off a roller coaster and trying to do a handstand.

They slowed down by the time they reached the stream bed, and tried to jump to cross it the way muscle memory from childhood told them to do. Asa severely over-shot the mark and landed in a tuck-and-roll they had learned at the Academy.

I swear the suits at the Academy were not this amped up- either time I took the physical coursework. Good grief, this is turning me into some mythic figure...bet I find ways to epically screw this up. Asa thought, dusting debris off themself as they continued.

Asa turned to see McBain following behind at a deliberate pace, and gave him a quick thumbs up to assure him they were ok, and kept going with a weak smile.

Upon reaching the hedges, Asa decided to put in a much lighter jump. They failed to clear the first hedge, landing in it at a 45 degree angle, face down towards the ground.

Yep. As expected.

With a sigh and a look of grim determination, Asa set towards the second set of bushes. This time they cleared the bush, but over-jumped and went sailing up like a balloon before landing.

So subtle. That wouldn't alert the locals to your location at all, would it? Good job you awkward lummox. , Asa continued to mentally berate themself.

The third and fourth hedges went much better, and Asa was starting to get a feel for the increased abilities the suit provided. They decided to think of wearing the suit as operating in lower gravity, as it gave them a better framework for how to adjust.

The handholds went much better than they expected, the additional strength was quite welcome here, and Asa scaled the wall far better than they would have without enhancements. After clearing the wall, Asa sprinted towards the finish line, enjoying the added speed towards the end of their run, although still somewhat leary of their "steering" and cautious to not turn too quickly and run into a tree trunk, or some other similar embarrassment.

Asa came to a stop, turned to McBain, and asked "Well, what's the verdict? Am I hopeless?"

McBain came to a smooth stop at a polite distance from them. "Hardly, you got used to the heighten abilities rather swiftly. You should have seen some of the big strongmen in the MACO the first time they tried to run in armor. They had to clear the training area least they crushed the unaware." McBain laughed easily. He altered the course so the four hedges were only about fifty yards away. I will show you how to hurdle those so you do better next time. Instead of jumping run over them, just a long extended step sort of move. Aim your foot so your lead ankle will clear the hedges by a foot. tuck your rear leg under you like so. So it is a thrust forward rather then upward."

"Now watch I will run the hurdles than run back. When I return you try." He turned to face the hedges but tucked his head and turned his face towards them. His smile was easy to see with the visor up. "Keep in mind I am showing off just a bit, but I want you to understand how easy this is once you get the hang of it." Without farther ado he took off at a fast sprint his head facing forward as he was already on the run. He thrust his leg at the first hedge looking like his butt was going to hit the top, but it did not. He cleared the other four and made a tight loop before coming back. They had seen him running away from her at an angle and now now they would see him running at an angle toward them. So they could see his posture as he leaned forward tucking his chin in a hurdlers form. Each hedge was cleared just barely and he never really 'jumped'.

McBain had run both direction and stopped beside them smoothly in but a few seconds. "So?" He asked with a wink. "Start out with a foot between you and the hedge, once you get better you start trying to clear the obstacles by less and less till you are just barely clearing whatever you are jumping. Now your turn and please just have fun with this. You are not being graded and I will never tell anyone about how you performed during training." He mentioned that with a solemn nod because he needed them to take chances to improve. If they knew nothing embarrassing would result they could concentrate on accomplishing the task. At least that was how McBain thought of it. "Just the hurdles section like I just ran, twice than stop here beside me. Ready.. Set..

Asa set off at a sprint. They knew it was going to take a while to get used to the feeling of moving that quickly. Approaching the hurdles, they attempted to do as instructed and wound up awkwardly straddling the first bush.

Turning to look over their shoulder with a smile, they said "I have a feeling that isn't what you wanted me to do," exited their impromptu seat, and ran towards the second bush.

This time they tried taking off a bit sooner, and while they cleared the hedge, they felt it clip the back of their thighs as they continued.

The third bush proved simpler and although the movement still felt awkward, they cleared the bush without incident on the way back.

The return trip proved easier, but Asa was still not sure they were maneuvering in the same way McBain had. In an attempt at optimism, Asa trotted up with one hand held high in the air and said, "High five for effort?"

McBain did the high-five even without prompting. "More than effort Asa, you went and came back in one piece. I had a drill sergeant used to say it don't have to be purty. It just needs to be done." He winked "which means more work on technique. You were good, actually you did better than good but we want as close to perfect in training as we can get because in the real, everything is harder. "That means if your up to it we will reset the course to as it was and make another go of it."

The course reset so the stream was again the first obstacle. Than the four hedges but the wall was now about twenty feet high! On the other side was another set of obstacles as well. After the wall was a series of ravines to jump and after three ravines was a ravine with a six foot tall hedge row behind it! "It will just keep getting more and more interesting Asa." He watched her face as she saw what she faced. "Catch me if you can youngster!"

As he said the last word he dashed off. It was a short hundred yards to the first ravine which he took in stride. Another hundred and he went over the hurdles like they were not even there. If anything he went faster when he had ab obstacle. At the wall he jumped up about ten feet and than scrambled up the next ten feet and rolling over the top. he caught three hand holds on the way down to slow his descent slightly. The three foot wide ravines were taken in stride as if they did not even exist. He leaped the last obstacle and did a half roll flip over the hedge. He ran the last hundred yards backwards watching for Asa.

Asa took off with the sheer joy of running, remembering games of chase from youth. The ravine was as not as much of a challenge this time as they only slightly over-corrected and landed with a wobble. The hurdle motion was starting to feel a bit more natural, and there was no face-planting or straddling this time. They still felt the bush graze the back of their legs however, and knew that in some environments, that could be deadly.

Asa decided to get a bit cocky with the wall to make up for lost time and jumped as high as they could, only needing to scale the last five feet and roll over. Knowing their El-Aurian bones were more dense than human bones, they decided to tuck and roll and let gravity do its thing on the way down.

They felt a bit of a burning in their lungs as they cleared the final ravines with a skip, and stopped at the finish line, panting slightly with hands on knees.

McBain smiled "I find it never fails to amaze me how much difference a bit of confidence makes. Combined with a little competitive spirit." McBain reset the course so they were at the beginning once more. He tilted his head "well Asa are you going to rest here on your laurels or prove it was no accident." The nibble of a challenge in his tone almost made it sound as a dare. "Are you good to go again?"

"I got one more in me if you do," they replied with a goofy grin. They weren't sure if this was to be a practice fire round or not, so they decided to wait for instruction, or barring that, for McBain to take off running.

"Than we make this go and the next run will have attackers. I will explain them once we make this run." McBain offered no warning as he set off at the run. He ran the course at a medium speed so they could catch up. This was about building confidence not him showing off.

Asa completed the course with a minimum of fumbles, this time they even cleared the hurdles without incident.

Now he stood beside them and the course looked the same, more or less. There was terrain now around the course. The path was no longer straight either. "The weapons were identical to their own real ones. "The attackers will be varied but for now all will be threats. To work on your response speed and accuracy without fear of a mistaken friendly fire. You want me to go first or do you wish to be surprised?"

"I'll go first, it will give me the chance to get a good baseline for how I do without copying your work so to speak."

"So be it, now this is more about awareness of your surroundings and responding to threats than speed. So slow down and keep your weapons ready." McBain nodded letting them know it was ready for them to go when ready.

The first obstacle, the ravine jump a glint of light from a weapon barrel glinted from the right by a tree. The person stepped into the clear aiming a rifle as a sort of warhound came charging toward them.

Asa kept across the ravine to take advantage of their momentum, ducking behind a tree, and taking aim at the hound and firing. After seeing the beast fall, they took a breath and aimed at the person. It took two shots but the target soon fell.

Noises as if an alarm was set off arose from what seemed all around them. The hedges ahead seemed a clear escape route. The woods on either side were echoing running booted feet. It was hard to determine the number, it might be only a couple but it could be a half dozen on each side. The wall beyond the hedges loomed large in the distance.

Asa decided there was no place like the holodeck to take a risk, and quickly climbed up the nearest tree. They surveyed the direction the noise was coming from and saw four booted figures and three large hounds. Taking aim with their phaser, Asa cleared three of the oncoming figures before the fourth located them in the tree.

With a leap and a roll, Asa jumped out of the tree and turned to aim at the fourth booted figure. It was not a wise move however, as the hounds were quickly upon them. Asa began shooting wildly, hoping McBain would help clear the beasts before they took too much damage.

McBain landed beside them and grabbed each hound hurling them away into the trees. Each hound vanished as they slammed into a tree. McBain grabbed their forearm and hauled them to their feet. His visor was raised so they could see his face. "You forgot your objective. Your mission was to get through the course. Not take out the guards. When you climbed the tree you evaded an immediate threat but the scenario would continue adding threats till you would be overwhelmed. Remember movement is the key and getting through the course is the only goal." McBain smiled "You get no points for the damage you cause." He winked "so you want to continue or start over?"

Asa took a steadying breath, “I think I’m all out of steam for the day. I’m going to feel a bruise on my spine tomorrow, I can tell. How about we call it a day this time, and I’ll pick up tomorrow where we leave off?”

McBain nodded "it has been a lot so calling it a day sounds like a good idea. Just call me tomorrow when you are ready. If you are you keeping your armor in your quarters you will need the holding rack moved there from security. After you change back out of it might want to get something for your bruise so it doesn't swell?"

Asa grimaced, "Trust me, this doctor will be getting this bruise taken care of. I'll keep my gear in my quarters for now, guess I'm grabbing a rack from security on the way back. Well, I learned a lot, thank you for that. See you 0900 tomorrow?"

"I'm going to need this flight deck cleared by ten hundred hours, people. That'll give us two hours to scrub her spic and span before the whole crew shows up down here, including Herself. And she's liable to be wearing something fancy, so if she gets grease on her because my flight deck isn't clean, I'm going to be a very cranky old lady!" Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris called out good-naturedly to motivate her flight deck crew.

"I know she isn't moving, Mister Flurglvrt. Get a sled up underneath her and get her on a lift, so she can drop to the maintenance bay, it isn't rocket science. Miss Teschmacher, glad to see you on distribution duty, let's get those sprayers in hands and get this all hosed down and blown dry. Computer?" the unconventionally-uniformed executive called out.

There was a chirrup of reply, so she continued. "Is it possible to project onto the bay doors a real-time holographic representation of the view outside the doors?"

"Processing," the computer chirruped and a few more chirrups followed. After a few more seconds, the door was replaced with a holographic curtain of the space outside.

"You know the forcefields would use a lot fewer resources if that's all you wanted." Maica commented as she sauntered up behind her human doppelganger. "Computer, please extend the projection to all exterior walls. Confirmation Maica three seven one. Party planning mode."

"Confirmed. Processing." After a few more chirrups, the outer walls were covered with the starscape as well, the sides of the flight deck now seemingly open to the vacuum of space.

"I did not, actually. In this case, given the concentration of the crew that are likely going to be here, safety first kicked in and it seemed like a needless risk. Which somehow makes me feel like I am turning into my father in my old age," Rita laughed musically, looking around and taking in the view with an appreciative nod. "Very nice, thank you. I take it this is where the party planner kicks into gear?"

The emerald skinned beauty smiled brightly. "Indeed. The cakes and finger foods are almost done and the wine is chilled. The only wines we have in large enough quantities are the Artan family rose wines, if that's okay. As for decorations, the maids have prepared tables and everything should be ready to be transported over in a few hours as soon as the cake decorators are finished. There's a second reception area inside the main hall of the castle where they're setting up overflow space. We'll be recording the ceremony and broadcasting it live so they can take part as well. As for the main decorations here, once the floors are clear and clean, I'll be loading the decor I've set up and we can get you gussied up."

"Mrs. Tel- right. Maica. I very much appreciate you bringing your expertise to all of this. And I can tell you really, really know how to throw a party." Rita spun around slowly, taking it all in before inhaling slowly, then squaring her shoulders and bringing up a small smile. "Ma'am? I very much do not want a Big Wedding. I was going to be content with just he and me and the captain, a groomsman and a bridesmaid for witnesses and then we'd be off on our honeymoon."

"The captain offered the cathedral, but no, I want a Starfleet wedding," Rita began to pace in a circle about the beautiful Orion woman. "So the flight deck she says. Invite the crew. Okay, says I, it's the crew of our starship who feel like showing up and aren't on duty, sure, it's a shipmate thing. Now a second reception area? Broadcasting? Ma'am..." Up until now, Paris had comported herself as she would any other day. Watching her wedding grow into much much more than she had anticipated or desired, she was rapidly transforming into a nervous bride. "I very much appreciate your help but I really don't want a big wedding... please?"

Maica smiled her patented smile and wrapped one arm around Rita. "Don't worry, love. We'll only have a hundred or so people here and everyone else will be at the main hall at the castle or watching it at their posts. It won't even seem like a big thing and I promise every pirate will be perfectly behaved." Pursing her lips, she looked up at the ceiling a moment. "Computer, extend wall projection to the ceiling." This time there was no delay from the computer as it extended the starfield.

"Ma'am? I'm asking with all due appreciation of you and your craft, but I am asking. Please don't make this a big thing," Rita pulled away from the steering arm around the shoulder and stepped forward to face Maica. "It is a wonderful gift that you are offering, and I'm sure I'm a fool for passing it by. But please- I'm asking you, as the bride- please don't make this a big thing. I don't want a spectacle. This is a formality. Something to let the rest of the universe understand what we've known for years."

"That's all. I'm not wearing a wedding dress nor is he wearing a tuxedo. We're not wearing our hideous dress uniforms. Just us, the way we are," Paris tugged at the long sleeves of her gold mod minidress, "as Starfleet officers, on a Starfleet starship. That's who we are, and that's what we want."

Maica sighed somberly. "And what about all your friends that want to attend? The rest of the crew? A lot of the Artans want to celebrate with you as well. I've had three bands, four poets, a mime, and a chainsaw juggler volunteer to perform for you. You're both famous for not only being on 'Nalia's crew, but for who you are yourselves and you have admirers."

Sighing again, Maica gave in. "I can at least make the flight deck part small but I'm not denying everyone the rights to the main hall. The food is already prepped."

"Well, what's a wedding day without guilt?" Rita shook her head, pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. All my friends? I'm lucky if I have a dozen friends. How are we famous, we're classified? How did the Artans know? That last part she suspected was the captain in action. Somehow this had ceased to be about her, and was now part of some greater spectacle in which apparently she no longer had a vote. The internal desire to point out to the captain's wife that she outranked her was making Rita's eye twitch a little, but something else arose as well.

You told the Captain you prefer the open hand over the one holding the phaser. So prove it, big shot. How can you get through to partyzilla to make her understand that you want the opposite of what she wants, that manipulating you is pissing you off, and that this isn't about her or the Artans or anyone else, it is about you and Sonak?

There was her answer. Tapping her left breast, Rita smiled placidly. "Computer, please request Lieutenant Sonak meet me on the flight deck. Thank you."

He was just out of his meditation and finishing putting on a uniform fresh out of the replicator when the computer call resonated in the quarters he shared with Rita.

"Lieutenant Sonak; your presence is requested by the first officer on the main flight deck."

"Computer; confirm my arrival in precisely two point two minutes, mark."

And so saying, he stepped out into the corridor and proceeded to the designated area at a brisk yet easy pace. When he entered, he took all in the vast emptiness of the shuttle launching area, now devoid of all vehicles lowered into their parking bays. It was made all the more vast by a holographic projection of a starfield all around and over head. In this large empty area, he spotted instantly his bride in conversation with an Orion female he recognized from the ship's manifest as the sentient holographic mate of their commanding officer. He did not need his sharp Vulcan hearing or acute vision to perceive the annoyance of Rita; even at this distance, he could feel it through their bonding.

He walked up to them and made a small bow towards Maica III 47.

"Thank you for your efforts regarding to our rather sudden personal request, Miss. We are accordingly grateful."

Taking in the spectacular starscape with a view f the Fortress to the fore, Sonak looked around again.

"This display is both inspiring and humbling; a good metaphor to Miss Paris and I respectively."

"It is that," Rita replied, a taut smile in place. "Sonak, this is Maica, Maica, Sonak. I was attempting to explain to Maica that a hundred guests on the flight deck while everyone else will be at the main hall at the castle or watching it at their posts as it is broadcast is a much larger affair than we were hoping for, as we just wanted something small and private. Although apparently now there is the diplomatic quagmire of risking alienating friends who want to attend, the rest of the crew, a lot of the Artans who want to celebrate with us as well. Apparently despite our classified existences we're both famous, not only for being on the Captain's crew aboard the top-secret Starfleet Intelligence starship, but for who we are. It seems we have admirers. Mr. Sonak. So with all of that in mind, I was attempting to resolve the situation diplomatically, but thus far emotional appeal fails to sway the locals."

Stepping over to stand next to Sonak- after all, they were currently on duty, and both had long ago agreed to refrain from public displays of affection on duty- the gold-clad commander nevertheless stood beside him as she rallied. "So, my logical groom... might I request assistance in attempting to sway these negotiations?"

Maica comported herself as soundly as she could, her hands clasped in a meditative pose in front of her belly. "Small and private is all fine and well, but after the leaked security footage of your heartfelt reunion on this very spot, many people at least know the rumors about the two of you and want to wish you well in your union. Would it not be logical to at least allow them that much? Even if it's from a remote location, watching a closed loop broadcast of your wedding?"

"Although..." Pursing her lips, the emerald beauty stared intently across the deck for a moment. "I think I have an idea... What if I built an open air chapel, we had only a few special guests and close friends... But broadcast the main ceremony to the main hall for everyone else and let them entertain themselves? Then if you want you could watch the recordings of their entertainment gifts to you later?"

"An acceptable proposition, if you agree with it," Sonak said in answer to Maica, but his gaze was set on Rita.

Then his grey eyes went around them a moment before settling again on the Orion woman.

"I am not yet as well versed in this holographic technology as I should be; but would it not be possible to 'encase' us in a isolated, private setting more comfortable to us, while allowing the rest of the attendance to witness the whole affair, without us being at least overtly conscious of their presence?"

“Broadcast celebrity… wouldn’t Daddy be so proud,” Rita muttered. Being manipulated by guilt over circumstances beyond her control sat poorly with her- after all, her entire childhood had been spent dealing with similar situations, and as an adult she recognized and resented it. But apparently she got little vote in any of this- one way or another, their private little ceremony apparently had to be witnessed by however many strangers, because it seemed they’d now gone viral. Wouldn’t have happened if you had kept it professional on the flight deck, the voice of her father mocked her, and it irritated her that one moment of unprofessionalism then would now cost her.

“Do we at least get a say in the ceremony or the vows?” Rita asked with resignation as she crossed her arms. In this moment she was regretting the whole idea and wished she’d never brought it up. There had to be any number of quickie little wedding chapels on some of the tourist spots that would be recognized by the UFP. Instead she had opted for a Starfleet wedding that was now going to be a multimedia extravaganza.

"Everything that you say and do and wear during the ceremony is entirely up to the two of you." Maica bowed her head, having nothing to say about that. She was just here to plan the party aspect of the ceremony. "There are some minor protocols that 'Nalia will have to follow like calling the gathering, declaring you married, and powers vested in her... But everything else is up to you. You could even have a traditional nude Betazoid wedding if you want. I'm just here to plan the party side of things."

The product of a conservative society, Rita managed to begin upraising a finger, her mouth gaping open in protest before the determined datagal continued.

"On that note... I've finished compiling a chapel and I'd like your thoughts on it." Snapping her fingers, Maica glanced over at the center of the flight deck where a small open roof and open front chapel made entirely of white and pink flowered vines shimmered into view. Inside was a simple podium for the captain and about a dozen chairs for guests. To either side was room for one bridesmaid and one groomsman. "Simple... Quaint... And you'll never know the rest of the crew was waiting to congratulate you afterwards."

First it was the stars in the sky, now it was a chapel made of flowers. A girl just can't have a plain wedding in the future. Or is this part of the pirate thing, it's always got to be a party? Whatever it was, Rita considered a diplomatic request for just the flight deck back. It was so... girly. All she wanted was a starship wedding.

Diplomacy. Apparently it ain't about you, lady, it's about appeasing the masses apparently. Welcome to the mission your wedding turned out to be. Now suck it up and do the mission.

"That's fine. Thank you, Maica. Very considerate," Rita smiled, nodded, then looked around at her flight deck crew who all suddenly found something to do. "Lieutenant Sonak, would you walk with me please?"

Maica sighed heavily, having been able to read Rita's heart rate, pupil dilation, pheromone levels, perspiration, and a few other things to get her emotional response as clearly as if she were empathic. "You don't really like it or anything else... I'll... Try to come up with something else. You two discuss whatever you need to and I'll work on this." Without another word, she headed off to the little chapel and started waving at it and mumbling computer code, tearing it apart and rebuilding the holographic construct a piece at a time.

"Ma'am? What part of 'I don't want a big wedding' didn't you get? I've pleaded with you repeatedly, but you can't please someone else if you won't listen to them," Rita stepped over to put her hand on the bared emerald shoulder. "If we're not willing to be changed by what the other person is saying, then we aren't listening. Tell you what. Compromise."

Looking skyward, Rita spoke up. "Computer? Can you holographically replicate the chapel of a Constitution class starship? Not the refit, the original models?" It was not a command, but a question she was asking the starship.

After a few chirrups and a shimmer, a grey metal box with a yellow door appeared on the flight deck about the size of a small shuttle appeared next to the remains of the chapel Maica was working on. Presumedly a recreation of an original constitution class chapel was inside. "This is the only data available."

Maica just turned to look at the little box and hung her head. "I am listening... I am making it smaller... If you want it that small, you might as well just have it in her office." All that was left of the chapel she had been working on was four chairs, the podium, and a few retro, brightly colored panels covered in floral designs.

"That was kind of my original plan, ma'am. Okay, look, fine, just... I'm going for that walk. Mr. Sonak?" Rita was already in motion as she spoke, headed off the flight deck. Guess you won't be winning any awards at the peace prize this year, Diplomatorita.

Sonak easily fell in step with her.

"My telepathic powers may be severely stunted in this universe, but it doesn't take any to sense that your emotional state is turning negative towards this whole enterprise," he offered in his usual deadpan tone.

"The whole point of a simple starship wedding was to avoid a huge dog and pony show- that's turn of phrase for a spectacle," Rita explained as they strode through the corridors of Deck 4. "Okay, family secrets time, you ready? My father had a wedding book for me. No kidding, he would collect images and files and he chose the venue, was revising the guest list every year. For which he would guilt me, because every year that passed reduced my chances of getting married to a good prospect, according to him."

"Shows what he knew. I'm 162 and I landed the best guy around." Rita waggled her eyebrows at the seemingly impassive Vulcan. "The point is, that's what he kept trying to railroad me into, so I grew to resent it. And I'm being railroaded into it now, and I dislike it just as much if not moreso."

As she strode along, Rita began to talk animatedly with her hands. "I didn't want to broadcast anything. How did this suddenly become political? I just wanted a simple ceremony, and... I'm uncomfortable with all of this. I know it was to define our relationship to the rest of the universe, but I didn't think it needed to be a multimedia extravaganza. And that woman is trying to manipulate me emotionally and it is really, really making me upset. Angry. Yes, angry."

When she was on a tear like this, it helped her to define her feelings, both to herself getting in touch with them and for Sonak, who over the years had grown rather deft at reading her emotional states and the subtleties therein. Yet he still appreciated that she identified them for him, and suspected it helped her frame her own mind.

"I would not be so presumptuous as to state that I understand how you feel," Sonak said after a moment. "But I can estimate that this is distressing for you. Therefore, this is unsatisfactory for me."

Pivoting, Sonak stopped before her, bringing her to a sudden halt as he looked her straight in the eye.

"That this has become a social event larger than expected and swelled with added events and significance is out of our control. It is something we now must accept as fact. External parties wish to broadcast it and make a... social occasion over it, to enjoy for themselves. The logical thing to do at this point is to allow them... to have their fun, I believe is the correct expression. You are a pilot; you know that the best way to ride an incoming and unavoidable wave is to turn into it."

Then his voice took a surprisingly softer tone.

"However, as for the bonding ceremony proper, I would dare to remind you that this is our wedding and this is your project; and you are her superior officer. You or I are not doing this to please her, nor anyone else; but to affirm to one another our bonding, in a solemn manner of our choosing. Therefore, it is up to you to order her what we want as a ceremony; and it is up to her, not to please herself with it, but to comply with your exact wishes as her way to truly contribute to your happiness on this day. As for the rest of the universe, they have no say as to how we will express our bonding. They can... take it or leave it, as I believe these Ferengi space merchants would say."

Straightening, Sonak adopted a stoic mein once more.

"The only other alternatives I can see are either to let them do whatever they want with our wedding... or cancel the whole affair. I do not think these last two options would be satisfactory. But if we compromise with their... spectacle as long as it doesn't intrude on our actual bonding ritual, I think it will not be unreasonable for you and I to tell them exactly how this ritual, our ceremony, should be performed."

With that, Rita began to slowly pace around Sonak. "As you say, it is beyond our control. The spectacle is inevitably occurring. Which... again, we're a Starfleet Intel vessel, aren't we? Isn't a whole lot of this supposed to be classified? Not important, focus on the problem at hand." As she paced, Rita tucked one arm under her bosom to support the other as she gnawed on her thumbnail. "I just wanted you, me, starship that looks like a starship..."

Rita stopped before Sonak, as her eyes sought out his own. "I want a wedding in a little chapel like we used to have on the Exeter, and the Constitution. We can have the big party on the flight deck and the Artans who I still don't get why they give a phloog, but there it is. But our ceremony... seats for a few people, room for us and the captain and just...private. Not covered in flowers in a springtime glade or exposed to the reaches of space. Just us and our shipmates."

"I don't have to see anyone , so I can try to not think about the fact that people are watching. We've kept it professional for so many years, it's... anyway. Do you think that might work as a compromise? It was your suggestion, after all. Apparently Maica will hate it, but it isn't her wedding. So, good plan?" At that, Rita sighed and made a rather hopeful face. "If not I can always try clubbing her with rank, though I doubt it would work..."

"I agree. This is the twenty-fourth century after all; onlookers can watch the ritual itself as a lifelike holographic display in some other location of magnificence of their choosing, just as if we were there among them, while we have it the way we wish. A quiet but sincere pledge between us, before our captain and a few chosen witnesses, in the modesty of the old Exeter ceremonial room. No one is entitled to deny this to us. After what we have been through, we are deserving of having our moment together."

A deep and contented sigh reverberated through the agitated aviator, as she started happily into the eyes of her logical lover, hands clasped behind her back "How you always know the exact right thing to say is beyond me, Sonak. Yet somehow you do. How did I of all people ever manage to get this lucky?"

His left eyebrow went up slightly.

"I know what to say because I am logical. Clearly your 'luck' is due to you being a very perceptive and intelligent Human woman."

"Logical you are, indeed indeed..." Stepping past the blue-clad scientist, Rita began leading him back toward the shuttlecraft bay. While she would have preferred to give him a hug or hold hands, they were on deck and on duty, and their years of 'keeping it professional' were a hard habit to break. Besides, Sonak knew how she felt, and he had once again gotten her through the emotional crisis with logic, just as she often got him through logical problems with intuitive leaps.

Time to face the wedding planner again.

Re-emerging onto the flight deck, Rita took a deep breath for whatever was awaiting them this time.

Maica was there at least. Her hair was in disarray and all that was left of the chapel she had made was the podium. The grey box next to her had been cracked open and spread apart so she could see the walls individually, but otherwise, no changes had been made to it. The ceiling was just floating there above her.

Turning back to Rita, Maica looked crestfallen. "While you were away, I called 'Nalia and we talked a bit as well. She wanted to offer the use of the family Cathedral again. There's no tech allowed inside and you can just have a small bonding ceremony there before we break out the wedding reception and party. Alternately, we could do it in one of the conference rooms or holodecks reskinned to look like this..." She motioned at the scattered walls around her, her lips pursed. She wanted to call them garish, but they were an important part of their history and she didn't want to be insulting. "I just ask that we remove a few symbols beforehand. Especially in light of our recent and impending missions involving beings that they relate to."

Sonak nodded and looked at Rita.

"Vulcans abandoned all religious practices and the faith mindset in favor of logic and reason several millennia ago. Those symbols only hold cultural and historical curiosity and thus are irrelevant to me as far as the planned ritual is concerned. What about you? I am willing to accommodate your beliefs if you have any."

"I believe in you and me, and that the constants of the universe always come with exceptions," Rita quipped back, before turning to Maica. "We come in peace. I offer a compromise- do your multimedia extravaganza. We will cheerfully party with the crew on the flight deck and anyone else that wishes to join- we have the capacity for fifteen hundred people here, so whomever wishes to attend we should able to accommodate."

"You can throw one hell of a wingding, and all we ask is we have the ceremony appear to be private, at least for us. Shut out the rest of the world in our little drab grey and blue chapel. Sans religious iconography lest it offend is fine, given that they hold no personal significance to either of us. We can exchange our vows before a small gathering of our friends and shipmates, bound by maritime law. Then we'll be happy to dance and carouse and revel with anyone who wishes to celebrate our union with us." Rita eyed the holographic hostess hopefully. "Will that satisfy all parties involved?"

Maica waved her hands at the walls around them, bringing them back together. The podium had been replaced with the wooden Starfleet one she had made previously and most of the iconography was washed from the chapel, but otherwise, it remained the same. Smiling, her hair returned to normal as she turned back to the couple. "That works perfectly as long as you can have your vows ready in the next forty eight minutes. Thank you."

"We'll wing it. We're both good at this," Rita replied, wondering if that too would further frazzle the entity whom had chosen to insert herself and generate so much internal stress about all of this, when it was not even her affair. Turning she cocked her head to regard her groom. "Another triumph for logical thinking?"

Sonak didn't hesitate in his reply.

"Klingons would say it is not the words but the scent that matters, and words come later. But I prefer the Human saying; what is well conceived frames itself clearly, thus the words for it come easily. Nothing is better conceived and framed than what we have for one another."

Rita Paris sighed and shook her head with a wistful smile. "That's my guy..."

McBain had been busy since his arrival still this was important. This was the last step in his checking in process and once the counselor signed off on him he was ready for action. He had gotten everything else on the list so now he had hurried here so he would not be late. He saw the open door and straighten his uniform. He leaned into the door frame knocking "Hello, doctor Jurot? I am Ensign Raymond McBain your 1600 hrs appointment. Are you free to see me."

The woman in room was sitting on a cushion next to a low table. Her eyes were closed. When Ensign McBain spoke, her eyes opened, revealing her eyes' black irises- a trait of all full blooded Betazoids. She then stood gracefully.

Councilor Avender Jurot was a tall woman, with long flowing auburn hair and pale skin, which really made her eyes stand out. Her figure was very curvaceous, which she accented by having her duty uniform specifically tailored. Her entire being radiated serenity. She smiled warmly at McBain, and extended her hand in welcome.

"Absolutely, Ensign. And please, call me Avender. I don't stand on ceremony. How would you prefer to be addressed?"

McBain laughed softly but with real humor. "Well, most people just call me McBain? My first name is fine, Raymond. You could call me Frosty, that was my fighter pilot call-sign. I really am not fussy as long as I understand you are referring to me anything pretty much will be fine." He realized that was not much of a real answer and shrugged "Raymond is fine Ma'am, or McBain either is me." He had stepped into the room as he replied and took her hand with a firm polite grip. His eyes were strong and focused as his met hers. "Nice to meet you." His expression became a bit more cocky "so how do you want to proceed Avender. I really want to get this clearance done so I can officially get to work."

McBain had noted she was full Betazoid and the race seemed serene and at the same time somehow sultry. In the MACO unit he had been with the Betazoid guys always got the girls. Which was fine he was not much into carousing. He was not dead either so he did notice. This was business though and he let nothing interfere with his mission. She was a looker but for now that was just information to think on later. Besides she had to know how beautiful she was and him noticing would not matter much to her anyway.

Avender smiled more broadly. "Frosty. I like that. It's distinctive, if informal. If it's ok with you, during any sessions we may have, may I call you Frosty?"

"Of course, works for me." McBain nodded glad to hear the call-sign again.

She motioned him to a soft looking couch with an elevated end. "You may sit, lie down- whatever is comfortable. Don't worry about falling asleep. I've rigged it to provide an electric shock if you do." She winked mischievously.

The counselor sat in the chair next to the couch, crossed her long legs, and picked up a PaDD from a small table which also held a vintage looking box of tissues.

McBain sat once the doctor was sitting. He just sat on the couch with his feet on the floor. He was relaxed but even so there was an active tension in his body that would take him from a calm relaxed state to action in a blink of the eye.

"So, Frosty, I've read your record. I'm quite impressed! You've had a very colorful career so far!"

"I have spent a lot of time in the field. It was an active life thus far. Training or being in the field has been my entire life since my school graduation from school." McBain smiled I would not have it any other way." He looked back at her, his eyes meeting hers "so any questions just fire away Doc." He smiled a bit sheepishly adding "Avendar."

"Certainly, Frosty. As you know, we are meeting to establish your psychological health today. It's a formality really, but it's required by Starfleet regulations when a crew member reports to a new assignment." She smiled. "You can relax, Frosty. I'm not here to hurt you, and even if I were, I'd be no match for you physically."

"So, do you have any questions for me before we begin?"

"Nope, no Avendar." corrected quickly, this was work not social, but those eyes, face, and the comfortable surroundings made it hard to think in an on-the-job frame of mind. He had corrected his mistake as he saw it quickly. He continued smoothly "I have had to do this a few times before. In the MACO our operations were almost always life threatening so we had more of these sessions than most people." He smiled easily, "of course that was than and this is now.

Go ahead Avendar have a peek inside my head!" He laughed slightly with a bit of both levity and nervousness. His face became serious though for just an instant. I should warn you though, I have done a great deal of violent deeds. You might not like me much after you look too close." McBain relaxed aware he had tensed briefly. "Many view my deeds as vile. I have always kept to my personal code however, so for the most part my conscious is clear. I can live with the deaths, the lives I have taken.

Avender smiled and uncrossed her legs. She leaned toward McBain and said "Be careful what you wish for, Frosty. I'm Betazoid, and could easily go inside your head. I was also assigned to Temporal Investigations as well as Starfleet Intelligence. But I prefer to have you tell me about what's inside your head, rather than me having to go in there and search."

She leaned back in her chair and recrossed her legs, slowly. "Also, violence doesn't disturb me. If it did, I wouldn't be much of a help, would I?"

She tapped her PaDD without looking.

"So," she said, exuding a pleasant calm, "tell me about... Darisa."

McBain nodded, everyone asked about Darisa. "Where should I start. I could start on the way in where we got ambushed by the Breen. Or the rescue of the freighter carrying supplies. I could talk about the campaign where we never got any support as the brass did not want to escalate the 'action' into a full flung 'war'. We tore up the Breen blockade, we hammered the rebels and their Breen allies into a corner. At the end we pilots were flying on average three missions a day just to keep us having the advantage."

McBain shrugged his eyes hard but they softened. "You know that first skirmish I was really proud. I had fought as a ground pounder but it was my first real test as a pilot. Three Breen interceptors jumped my wing-man and me. It was something. Tearing across the void of space nothing but you and your fighter against them and theirs. We had to obey rules that they did not so they were allowed to fire first. It was clean, no innocents, no civilians. Just trained warriors and their weapons deciding who was more skilled." McBain shrugged "if all wars could be fought like that fewer warriors would with broken minds."

McBain took a deep breath. "I figure Barisa was a few greedy businessmen whom the Breen would profit more under their rule than the Federation. A few of those were charismatic enough to convince a about 10% of the population ending safety standards would benefit them?" McBain made eye contact, "all of that is in my records no doubt. Even the fact we were supporting the local government forces but they were in charge. At the beginning we were just called in to deal with the Breen, the hired mercenaries, and actual fortified cell command centers. Things got dicey when we started getting called in to pull the local units out of trouble. that was when we got spread to thin and our losses began adding up fast."

McBain sighed "I was taught to live by a code long before I enlisted. The code I was told would allow me to hold my head high no matter the trials I faced. That code amounts to a few idea. Never be cruel for the sake of cruelty or vengeance. Never willingly harm anyone who can not defend themselves. Never do harm for personal gain. Be honest to yourself and others no matter the consequences." McBain smiled softly in memory of his Uncles who had taught him the code. "So I bombed Inari under orders with full knowledge innocents would die. Later it was a political matter to blame me rather than for the Generals to take responsibility. I was exonerated by a field Colonel who had the meeting transcript. Most of that court session was kept from the public. They did not want a resurgence of hostilities. That would have done no one any good."

McBain once more looked in her eyes, a cleansing calm aura as if in the confession of the story he was more free. "So that is the story. The details are not important unless you were there at the time."

Avender smiled and cocked her head slightly to the right. "Those are the facts. Now, tell me about Darisa. How it made you feel. What it did to you. About where it lives in your soul."

The Betazoid's voice was so soothing- so inviting. Soft like a comforting lover, yet with a prompting steel subtly embedded.

McBain nodded as he smiled. She was good. Really good for an Ensign? He wondered what she had been before Starfleet. "That is a harder question as you likely know. I will answer as I have before,because it was true then and is true now." His eyes took on a feral gleam. "I liked being in my raptor class fighter. I liked the feeling of it being my skill and equipment against the enemies. I am not a berserker, every thing I do is a calculated risk. I was taught to never hesitate, to always keep moving, and to verify my target so I knew whom I was dealing with. That is how I live Avendar. I just go for it. I take pride in winning but I never forget the loser had the same desires as I do. I do what I do without malice or hatred. It is skill versus skill."

McBain sighed so I felt on top of the world, flying and fighting in the beginning. One time a pilot was badly wounded during a supply drop as he was waiting for the wounded to be brought aboard. The attacking force was larger than they had expected and they needed to be pulled out. They needed a pilot. So I volunteered. I had to make a paradrop insertion about two miles out, get through the enemy lines and than fly the transport out. It was quite a thrill to accomplish. I felt great for getting my fellow MACO's out of trouble. That was near the time we started being pulled into the locals engagements. That did not feel the same because they were amateurs. They were citizen soldiers playing at being warriors. They made mistakes and they were vindictive."

McBain stood and paced across the room. It also began involving civilians and it all seemed wrong. I was reprimanded several times for interfering when the local troops mistreated civilians. Than the bombing mission. I was compromised and the Captain of the Dallas understood. He would have flown the mission but it was in his eyes, he did not expect to survive it. I had to do it, I was best qualified and I was also most likely to survive. I felt the lesser of two evils was to take the mission. I knew the locals skill and they would have leveled several city blocks to accomplish the task. It was only one building that needed to be taken out." Mcbain sat back down and made eye contact, the confliction in his soul was obvious. "I flew the mission and it went better than expected. My fellow shipmates supported me and stood by me. My Captain told me I was on a promotion list and it all made me feel okay."

He closed his eyes "than later the charges were brought up. The local command was taking grief so they blamed it on us. After all we were outsiders, what did we care about the local people." McBain's expression revealed the anger he still felt at the betrayal. "I was called out as a murderer. I knew better but what could I say. So I said nothing. The Captain of the Dallas, some of his command staff. There were few MACO's left so it was just me who was named, I had flown the mission. The Fleet was going to fry me. There was just their words against our reports. The pressure was on to appease the locals. Than that staff Colonel spoke up. He was an honorable officer and could not let this happen. So it was charges were dropped quietly. The reason given was some vague procedural errors. We were left in limbo and the Dallas was gone."

The Captain and his officers were assigned other ships, I was sent to a unit that did missions only command will ever read the particulars about. I was done as a pilot. As a warrant officer I was the team XO. I was assigned to fly the team transport which was cool. It was during this time I met Farrington, he talked to me a lot and I took his advice and went to the academy. I am still angry on many levels. I can live with what I did because it was the best outcome in a bad situation. I learned many lessons during that time. One of them was that even when you are forced to compromise, it does not compromise you. As long as you are true to yourself you can face the mirror."

McBain took a deep breath "so that enough of an answer, Avendar? I know I am a bit long winded once you wind me up."

The counselor thought for a moment, regarding the powerful man in front of her, then smiled.

"I wouldn't say you're long winded. You are usually a man who is very direct with his words. You are accustomed to giving orders quickly and decisively. The fact that you have been so complete in your answer shows me that it has been on your mind for a long time."

Avender stood and walked over to the large window of her office. She felt the man's eyes on her curves. She then slowly turned and walked slowly toward him, as if deep in thought. Then she fixed her beautiful black eyes upon him.

"You said you enjoyed being a Raptor pilot- of pitting your skill and experience against a single opponent. Where do you think this drive came from- was it something you learned early in life, or later as your knowledge and skills increased? In other words, Frosty..." she stopped directly to his right, and then turned her head toward him, making her hair cascade over her shoulder.

"Were you a Warrior Born or a Warrior made?"

"I think it was inside me from the beginning. My earliest memories of myself are me challenging myself to do things I was told could not be done." McBain laughed at what he said feeling suddenly exposed as he looked into her eyes and noted how her hair shined. His warning lights inside his brain were on now as she was purposely looking attractive. He was sure she melted many a heart with those eyes and that hair. He thought about it a second and continued, he saw no threat here. "I do not mean to say I did really stupid things like jump off a barn roof trying to fly with a cape. I did do stupid things though. For instance."

McBain leaned back for the first time as he enjoyed thinking of his youth despite the problems. "There was a stream, white water fast but with large boulders all along the way. It was not deep in many places but it was too fast to wade across. The mist from the water made the rocks slippery. I saw some older guys trying to run the boulders as a challenge among themselves and they all failed to run more than a few rock to rock hops. I was about four or five years younger than them but I was a tall kid. I watched them and decided they were hesitating, my Uncles said to hesitate is to die. Always keep moving, do or move but never hesitate. So I walked over and spoke to them. They made fun of me and told me it was impossible to just go play. I got mad and took off running I looked at the rocks and decided my route in three steps and I ran leaping from boulder to boulder."

McBain revealed slight embarrassment as he finished, he did not brag much. "I crossed the stream in eight leaps. They at first were shouting warnings, once I succeeded they said something about me being a local kid and left. After that I ran the boulder almost everyday to work on my balance and reactions. I got hurt more than a few times and almost drowned a few more times than I like to think about! I learned a great deal from the stream though." McBain smiled "I was trained from a young age but I think it was in me. My Uncles just developed what they saw inside."

Avender sensed McBain's hesitancy, and shifted her stance slightly. She now faced him, hands behind her back, appearing helpless. Her smile had a slight tinge of longing.

"Is it possible that you feel you are still jumping from rock to rock? Perhaps the Raptor is just your metaphor for your leaps?"

She paused a moment, turned her left shoulder to him and paced slowly to his front, her eyes never leaving him.

"Is it possible that in your heart you never left that stream?"

McBain worked through what she said slowly. It did not seem right to him. Finally he shook his head. "I think you went over my head there Avendar. Not that hard to do as I am smart enough to know, I just am not the smartest tool in the shed." He laughed softly and kept from looking directly at her as she was alluring and this was work. He knew she was just doing her job, but it was difficult not to want to believe she was attracted to him. Logic prevailed though. "Honestly I do not think so. I mean the boy at the stream was only interested in proving himself to himself and just a little bit to others.

"The Raptor pilot was still trying to prove himself but the stakes were higher. There was more of the desire to protect the Federation than simply being the best." He frowned not sure he had made any sense. "Avendar, the boy only cared about himself. The Raptor pilot cared about the job of defending something bigger than himself. The best way to do that was to be the best he could be." McBain sighed not at all confident he had articulated that correctly. He smiled and met her eyes. He wondered how many men she had melted with that gaze. He left his guard down for just a moment "after all I am just another guy."

"Actually, I don't believe that the boy only cared about himself," Avender said. "Otherwise, he wouldn't have cared about what those other guys thought. You wouldn't have cared what your commanders thought. And you would not have cared about the civilians whose deaths still haunt you."

She took another step closer to him so that she was now only a step away from him. he could smell the perfume she was wearing, a faint smell of honeysuckle. She looked up into his eyes.

"I think you are having trouble admitting that, as a grown man and a soldier, you can be negatively affected by the things you've done in the course of your duties. You are afraid of those feelings, and afraid that if you cry, you'll somehow be less than a man. You are wrong. A Man allows these feelings to flow, even if they only do so in private. You are allowed to feel, Frosty. If you allowed yourself to express those feelings, perhaps they wouldn't haunt you. You could learn from them, and move forward. That's what a Man does, and it is what separates him from a boy."

Her expression was one of concern and expectation, her lips parted ever so slightly. The aura of comfort was gone, leaving McBain to experience only his own feelings.

McBain shook his head as if a trance was broken. He tilted his head "I am not so much haunted by the deaths as I am that my leaders betrayed me. I was handed the ogre's choice and I accepted it. Than after the fact they threw me to the dogs. I can handle the things I do because it was for the greater good. My character was destroyed, my honesty questioned, my honor ruined in the eyes of the world. I called my Uncles and spoke to them. They never doubted me. They know my heart. Those who were there knew what happened. Commander Farrington told me politics happen. It is a bitter pill to know people will demand you do things that most consider unthinkable than burn you to the ground after doing it."

McBain forced himself to relax. "I am not a movie hero, I do not expect anyone to praise me. I might be seen as a monster because I am sent to end the monsters, but that is what I do. To be called a criminal, to be lumped in the same category as the people I am sent to take out. That insult is the burden I carry." He was calmer now, it always felt good to get that burden off his chest. McBain felt tired and he lowered his chin, "I wonder if the sheep hate the guardian dog once he defends them?" McBain looked up making eye contact. "You understand, after the sheep see the dog also has fangs. The dog has to be tougher than the beasts, more fierce than the raiders in the night. Yet he risks his life to protect because the sheep are helpless." McBain smiled softly. "Whatever you think of me Avendar that is all there is here."

The Betazoid smiled, and that feeling of serenity returned. "I think you've taken a major step, Frosty, a bigger one than you realize. What I think of you doesn't matter. Knowing yourself does. We'll stop here for now."

She turned and walked back to the window. She felt is eyes on her. She sensed what he felt.

She turned to look over her shoulder, flashing a coy smile. "Oh, and, Ensign? I'll be off duty in an hour. I intend to go to Ten Forward for dinner. In case you were wondering." She turned away then put her arms over her head and stretched. "Mmm sometimes it's the simple things."

McBain was standing with a smooth grace to leave once he heard he was done. He was enjoying looking at her since her back was to him. She was something. He was about to walk to the door when she spoke about when she would be eating dinner. He swallowed hard to get rid of the the huge lump suddenly in his throat . "I will be there just in case you want company. No one should eat alone." His confidence was not nearly as strong as his voice. He was not much of a playboy and he was actually nervous about social activities. He escaped to report he was now fully checked in!

"So let's talk about this. Quarters, change, running togs, Deck 12? It's the new Deck 6," Rita Paris asked her groom on the flight deck of the Hera, practically on the spot they had been reunited.

"I only require a small space to meditate. We will undoubtedly share all the other accommodations and as you already know well, I have no specific requirements that differ from yours; for decades I managed in a desert cavern on the Gol plateau. So simply insure they are convenient and agreeable for you."

"I... no. I meant let's go get suited up and run Deck 12 while we talk. We can cover a few miles while we talk about what sort of ceremony we want. I think there are decisions we need to make. Fair?" Rita was already in motion for the pressure doors that sealed the flight deck off from the interior of the Hera

"Agreed; please chart the course, Lieutenant Commander."

With that, Rita set out at a doubletime pace, speedwalking the decks to the Jeffries tubes. Opening the hatch, she ducked inside, then held it open long enough to confirm that Sonak was at her heels. With practiced ease, the career fleeter gal began smoothly sliding down the tube's access ladders- a trick from the old days that still worked just fine to go down decks in the starship. Most tubes ran for two or three decks before you had to land on a deck and transfer to another tube. But it was still a good way to rapidly locomote through the starship that did not rely on the turbolifts.

Also, it was good cardio and a lot of fun, in Rita's estimation. Sonak tended to enjoy the physical improvisation of working around other crew members who were in the tubes as they passed. Despite the fact that most of the crew was on shore leave, many of the engineers were still hard at work rewiring, repairing rebuilding and rerouting systems while the crew were placing no demands on them. Ducking around them and not disturbing their work added to the physical challenge.

Ducking out on Deck 8, Rita took off at a run to the fore of the starship, turning tight corners and hustling through the ship's corridors. The durable explorer's boots she wore came equipped with highly efficient tread and arch support, and while few would imagine it, she was quite adept at bolting at high speed while wearing them over a variety of terrain. In this case, the improvised parkour of the Jeffries tubes had her blood pumping, and she had stress to burn. Since most of the crew were absent and they were in Officer's Country now, she ran, knowing that Sonak was right there beside her.

With his naturally stronger and hardier Vulcan physique and decades of intense training regimens in martial arts under the harsh desert environment of his homeworld, even the unmatched training of Starfleet had been but a formality to him. Sonak knew Rita challenged herself in trying to match him, and thus often pushed herself harder than was necessary; but far be it for him to attempt to restrain her.

This drive to achieve and outperform herself, always pushing forward to be better while enjoying the simple sensation of being alive, was but one of her most admirable human qualities. Vulcans had adopted a tendency to achieve in a very methodical, paced, gradual way; too ponderous it seemed to him, when the unforeseeable hazards of existence were factored in. Service to Starfleet was a place wherein such hazards were to be found in abundance.

Having been victim to a statistically improbable number of transporter accidents of various natures and results, Rita Paris was the living representation of that philosophy. To Sonak, she was even more than that; a human embodiment of a basic wisdom even some masters had forgotten.

Live your life, because you only have one. You cannot know what it will bring, or when it may end. So live.

This apparently useless running around was thus more than just exercise or her physically venting the pressure of her emotions; it was her taking possession of her existence. In which he joined her- not because of the simple logic of fitness nor to even to be with her and share the activity. For him, it was first and foremost to celebrate her existence.

Because her existence was once again part of his, which changed everything.

Bringing herself up short, Rita paused before the door of their quarters. While she had the door set to open at a range of three meters, that was sufficient for her usual brisk walking pace. Running at top speed, however, it wasn't programmed to react to quite appropriately, so she slowed down as she approached, so she could jog through the door. Once inside she wasted no time, bringing her foot up to knee level so she could grab the chunky-heeled knee boot to expertly slip it off, hopping for a few steps to maintain her balance before switching to stand on her sock-covered foot and repeat the process. Stripping off her socks, she tossed the boots outside the bedroom door.

While her original pair of boots which she had fed the replicator had been broken in, somehow new boots seemed to still need a bit of wearing to make them properly comfortable. Thus Rita tended to try to keep a pair for a week at a time. Sonak had recycled her boots yesterday morning, but after a sprint through the gangways these should be ready for anything, she reasoned.

Striding into the bedroom, in a practiced motion Rita grabbed the hem of her miniskirt, then proceeded to wrestle it over her head. The stretchy velour was forgiving of her physical architecture, the open neck design was a no-brainer and she hadn't zipped one up in years. Her taut abdominal muscles were visible as she did so, her usual soft curves not as evident. It served as a stark illustration of how she had literally withered, pining for Sonak in his absence. A palpable physical toll taken upon her form by her emotional duress. Tossing it into the recycler, she hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her scants. Catching her leggings but leaving her panties behind, the leggy lieutenant shucked her remaining outerwear, bending at the waist to step out of them daintily.

"Judging by these proceedings, you now have a different type of physical regimen in mind."

Sonak's deadpan tone made it almost a joke, even if he only understood the concept on an intellectual level. Despite that, he seemed to be getting a knack for it. Some of Rita's human mind echoed in his own to be sure. And thus it so happened that he unconsciously went with the flow of her obvious teasing by doing some of his own. He remained upright and unmoving, not removing even his boots.

Vulcans barely sweated anyway, and only in very extreme conditions, which this little jog was for from equating. His clothes were barely ruffled and still smelled as if they had just come out of the replicator.

While she was determined for them not to become 'that' starship couple who ran off to their quarters for privacy at the drop of a hat, she had to admit that the ticking clock- and whose clock was that, anyway? Screw Maica and her forty-three minutes! It was 10:31, and the ceremony was at 15:00. Whoever thought they died and made the green-skinned gal god had another thing coming. Rita was officially done being bullied by the captain's wife today.

"Stress. I am stressed. I wanted to go run it off while we talked about how we want the ceremony to proceed, but..." Stepping lightly in her uniform underwear and her sock-clad feet, the human woman closed the distance between herself and her Vulcan lover. Reaching out her hand, her fingertips gingerly brushed against his chest.

"It's... harder. I can't hear you the way that I used to, and even when you are close I can only make out impressions, little things. I can only hear you, feel you, when we touch. When we're on duty, I... I miss feeling you there." She looked up at him, blue eyes alight in the morning sun streaming in through the upper viewports in their quarters. "It's not bad, just... different. Because I want to feel you there, I miss feeling you. I know you're there, I know, and on some level maybe I can feel you, but... not like before."

"It makes me want to be closer, moreso when we cannot." Raising her left hand, she brought it to his cheek to stroke his handsome jawline. "We should go run and I should stay on schedule for this event. Because otherwise we become that couple, and I don't want to be that couple. I want... I want..."

I want to be with you. I do not care if it is selfish or childish. I don't want decorum, I don't want appearances. I just want you, she thought firmly, her outward attempt at stoic devotion to duty undermined and betrayed by her own thoughts.

Sonak took her hand in his; a gesture he had learned from her and knew was significant to her, even without the telepathic contact this touch would allow.

"The value of what we have is all the more greater if we have to work harder to share it."

He took her in his arms and brought her to the bed. On the way, he managed to remove his boots using the ball of his feet and heels one against the other while walking. Although he was otherwise still fully clothed, he lay alongside her and kept his eyes on hers and his hands on her head, as much to make sure she would not bump it even against a soft pillow as to invite contact between their minds.

He knew she liked to denude him herself, slowly, while they shared their body warmth and breathing. And so he let her, while sending the calm stillness of his katra to soothe her own heart and soul.

Well, her soul at least; because her heart was beating quite strongly against his.

You could just lie here and be soothed, Rita thought to herself, even as her subconscious mind checked his internal clock to keep track of the timer imposed upon her, to which she was still telling herself she wasn't paying attention. Her pale hands hands roamed across the blue field of his uniform, tracing circular patterns across his form. No... I need activity and we need to talk.

At that she paused, looking up at the somber scientist. "Do we really need to talk though? Enter together, but separate- depart together, hands clasped. We give our vows in turn, the Captain says her words, and then... apparently, we attend a party. That's the extent of our ceremony. No man gives me to you like livestock, as we enter and depart as equals. Do you concur?"

"Affirmative. What we wishto share with others is the fact of our union. But what we have is beyond words. And what we can share can be exchanged from mind to your mind, your thoughts to my thoughts... and they are ours alone."

"Mmmmm, I think we need to make the rest of the universe privy to it, kind of the spirit of the exercise. Although that would be a mean trick to play on the viewing public," Rita snickered as she levered herself up with her arms, then shifted her weight to straddle her One. Bracing her hands on his abdomen, she continued to wage that internal debate. Go for the run. Spend that time here instead doing something more fun and less public.

That was when the realization struck her. It's your life and you are lucky to have it. Stop caring what other people think and satisfy yourself.

The zipper was found on the left shoulder seam of the uniform, and although she was inexperienced with removing a man from this particular model, she was a very fast learner. Tugging and pulling at it, she helped him wrest his left hand free, bringing his fingers up to her lips, even with her other hand she helped as he began to wrestle his right hand free of the constricting garment.

Her heart was beating quite strongly against his indeed.

As she did so, he let the tip of his fingers brush against the nape of her neck, stroking sensitive nerves under the skin and heating the roots of her hair at the base of her skull. The touch was light as a breeze yet the hottness of his dry skin was felt by her own cooler one in small waves that flowed down between her shoulder blades.

And all the while he let the calmness of his mind touch hers.

The life of the adventurous astronaut was a frenetic collage of images and experiences and emotions, often colliding with one another like the waves of the surf, crashing over and over again against the coastline. Yet Sonak’s thoughts were calm and serene, a deep constant below hers that provided a durable and eternal shore against which she could dash her feelings, anxieties and fears. In so many ways he was her rock; the stable and immovable ground that she could reach, which offered a calm oasis amongst her lively and often unpredictable emotions.

Like erosion, he too had been changed by enduring the crashing waves of her emotions over the years. But it had formed him into a better shape, a better individual, for the experience just as he had helped her order her mind and be calm. All the more because he knew, even felt, that the joining of their minds held as much significance for him as that of their bodies did to her.

In this moment, she needed him; thus, he was there for her. The ghost of the 23rd century needed to feel alive, to connect, to be one with the stoic hero she so adored. So he obliged her, as he always did. Sonak received her emotional and physical energy in waves that he surfed upon with all the care of an able aquatic athlete, an experienced surfer who knows how easy it can be for the unwary to drown. But the combination of sensations was firing up his neurons as much as his physical senses, and the experience, as always, was genuinely fascinating to the master of unemotional logic.

Hurling herself against him like the ocean driven by a storm, she crashed upon him until she was spent, at least for now. The serenity that his mind offered was once again something of which she could avail herself, and be calmed once more. Joining with the passionate and lively Human woman was indeed changing him, subtly, slowly, irrevocably. Such change he saw not as a negative, but as an evolutionary state.

As a kolinahr master, he was venturing into uncharted seas. But he was not alone. For he had brought with him a guide, who cared for him more than he cared even for himself. An able navigator who knew these mysterious waters well, who would steer him clear of hazards and threats because she was devoted to him like no other. So different in temperament and philosophy, so genuinely alien he was to her, yet she trusted him implicitly, with even her precious indomitable heart. It was not even unfair to say that she would offer her life before risking his, which was remarkable for him to witness, in defiance of all logic.

But love so often defied logic, it seemed.

As they lay together, limbs entwined, her sweat cooling in the climate-controlled quarters, she debated going for that run all the same, although she realized there was no time left if they were to meet that time limit imposed upon her by the manipulative party planner. They had enough time to shower and change and reappear on the flight deck once more.

Or they could linger a while, and pretend that this day was not about anyone but each another.

As was her way, she chose compromise, as she so often did- always attempting to build bridges, to find a middle ground. It was in no small part what had brought them together, and bridged the gap between their cultures. Rising from the bed, she took his hand to lead him to the shower. After all, they could likely make the meeting time if they showered together, while still satisfying her desire for just a few more stolen moments with her guy. The man whom, in a few hours time, she planned to claim as her own before the universe. Every moment was precious, every touch and glance significant, every sensation to be treasured.

In this, they both agreed.

.

The guests each received a message from the first officer at 11:00 hours.


"At 15:00 hours, you are cordially invited..."


Each message was unique, as was the reasoning for the invitation.

The Baroness Schwein von Alcott, "...because you've always been kind to me."

The Doctor, the emergency medical holographic lifeform she was helping to foster along, "...because you should see us at our best, not just at our worst."

Ensign Mona Gonadie, "...because you're the best assistant I've ever had, and a better pilot than me to boot."

Maica III 47, "...because we couldn't stop you if we tried."

Lieutenant Samuel Clemens XV, "...because you are a gentleman and a friend, sir."

Crewman Ila Dedjoy, "...because without you we wouldn't be here together."


The holographic reproduction of the simple starship chapel from a dozen decades ago abutted to one of the hatches to the flight deck, where the rest of those wishing to attend were gathered. But from within the corridor of the Hera that led to the chapel, no one on the flight deck could be seen or heard. There was privacy, peace and quiet. The guests, all professionals, showed up a few minutes early to take their seats on the padded pleather benches.

The Hera's captain arrived, dressed in her spotless dress white uniform with its gold and crimson piping. Thex sh'Zoarhi and Vaemyn accompanied her- as the Andorian and the Vorta had no idea of what human wedding rituals might be, this was likely going to be a novel experience for them both. The gathered assemblage then waited, as the minutes ticked by before the bride and groom made their entrance.

In the corridor, the duo had arrived, and were contemplating the next step.

"So whattya say, spaceman? Wanna go get married?" Rita joked, trying to dispel some of the tension she was trying unsuccessfully to ignore.

"At this point, it seems to be the logical thing to do," re replied so stoically it was obvious her humor has slighlty tainted his mind after their recent bonding.

"It certainly does," Rita smiled warmly at her blue-clad scientist. "Thanks for supporting my decision on this... I know that for some reason people are watching this, which is so weird to me, but yet we'll have our privacy and a nice little moment. In a way, it's the wedding I always pictured, you know?”

“Well... shall we?" Rita turned and took the first step toward the chapel, and Sonak fell in step beside her. He on port, she on starboard- a subconscious choice on her part that was a nod to tradition.

Striding up the short center aisle to the podium, in military marching step, they came together but separately- as individuals, yet clearly in synch.

Sonak appreciated the sobriety of the century old starship chapel. It was a chapel mostly in name and function, as everything in it had been subliminally built to reflect any belief and none at the same time. The podium for example was a plain single legged affair with a simple horizontal lectern that any non-religious individual like a Vulcan would just see as it was; yet to one of the old Terran Christian mythology, it jumped out instantly as being cross shaped. Just like decorative circular mirror on the wall behind would immediately resonate to a Shinto believer, and its silvery crescent reflection on the floor would be recognized for those of the ancient Muslim faith. As much as human beliefs were thus subtly suggested, so were alien ones from the worlds known in the days of the legendary Constitution class starships that had such a facility.

It was most appropriate for his sensibilities and to the feelings and desires of his mate.

With a calm, sober solemnity, he stepped to join Rita before the lectern on the podium where the captain would officially unite them for all to witness. For her part, Rita could not stop smiling.

As they both walked forward, the captain stood there stoically behind the Starfleet podium, ready with her small part in this ceremony before her. As they stopped before her, she glanced between them, then down at the pages of the book before her and began to speak the time honored traditional words.

"Since the days of the first wooden vessels, all ship's masters have had one happy privilege. That of uniting two people in the bonds of matrimony. And so we are gathered here today with you, Rita Paris, and you, Sonak of Vulcan, in the sight of your fellows, in accordance with our laws and our many beliefs so that you may pledge your devotion to one another. As Captain, the honor of joining these two people has fallen to me. But before I declare them husband and wife, they have prepared their own vows. If you would please."

The bride in the gold minidress exchanged a few subtle motions with her mate, then proceeded.

"For as long as we have, I want to spend it with you," she opened with, simply yet subtly.

"That was what I said to you our first night together, headed for a court martial and a death sentence. Even then, I knew. For as long as I live, I will love you. You were fascinating and calm and so confident without being arrogant or prideful. You were amazing to me then, even moreso today."

"I didn't fall in love with you. I walked into love with you, with my eyes wide open, choosing to take every step along the way, trying to express myself logically. I do believe in fate and destiny, but also believe we are only fated to face choices, not predestined outcomes. I chose you then, and I'd choose you in a hundred lifetimes, on a hundred different worlds, in any version of reality."

"You," Rita Paris beamed at the men beside her, and when she spoke she was a bit choked up. "Only you."

"I love you as you are, and I will support the choices you make. I will remain beside you as long as I am able, and I will fight to return to you with every fibre of my being. No matter how far you travel nor how long you may live, you will always have the song of my heart within yours."

"I promised you this long ago, but today I pledge it to the universe. Forever and always, Sonak of Vulcan, I swear to you that I'll be there. Through weakness and strength, happiness and sorrow, for better, for worse." It was as close as Rita was going to come to traditional vows, and she was pretty certain she had cadged them from a love song.

"I trust you- I always have. What more could I ask for than to explore the galaxy with the perfect man by my side- whom today I take as my husband, my mate, to the universe."

"My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts, my heart to your heart, my soul to your soul. Whatever fate holds in store for me, there will always be some of you within me. To guide me through troubled times, to insure I will never be alone. So within you I leave a bit of me, to soothe your soul and remind you to marvel at the wonders all around you. Each of us becoming just a little bit more like the other, to the benefit of both."

"To him I am Tt’hy’la..." Rita half-turned to the seated guests, in explanation. "It's a Vulcan word, and my explanation doesn’t do it justice. But it means that to him I am the One, just as he is to me... and across every society and philosophy that seems to be understood." The adventurer of another age turned back to face the solemn scientist by her side. "Sonak of Vulcan. No longer the last kolinahr. No longer of a dead world, an endangered species. I formalize our union in the eyes of others, that they may know and respect the bond between us, as so many cultures have similar rituals. At least I hope they do, so they may know joy such as ours."

"I take you, Sonak. In every way, I am part of your life and you of mine, and I thank you for being bold enough to experiment with an Earth girl," at that, Rita's grin became impish and gleeful, and she giggled at her own little joke.

Sonak listened with obvious attention to every word she said, yet, with in his eyes a glint that said that he himself already knew, and felt, all that she said; a kind of inner light deeper than what was expected from a Vulcan, even more so one who had utterly purged himself of all emotions. Once she finished, his voice resonated with his usual deep, deadpan tone; and yet, something more resonated within it... again unexpected from a Vulcan Kolinarh master. But it was unmistakable.

"Rita Paris of Earth; you are my Thy'la.”

“There is no word in any other language in the cosmos, no concept in any other sentient mind than the Vulcan psyche that fully encompasses all that this simple word truly means. There is no logic in attempting to convey to others what can only be understood by you who share it with me. But for you, because of you, and thanks to you, I will be able to go beyond logic and say this: You, Rita Paris of Earth, you are more than the One to me and me to you. In this, you are more than the one I have chosen, and whom has chosen me; you and I are one."

He paused and then, he extended two fingers towards her for her to touch with her own. Thus, they could share what he was saying, and what she had said, beyond words as he finished.

"I am Vulcan; the human concept of love is beyond me. And yet, your love manages to touch even my Vulcan heart. I am kolinahr; I have freed myself of the chains of feelings and emotions. And yet, you have made your human feelings and emotions the links that brought us and keep us together. We, are one; in mind and spirit, beyond the barrier of flesh. We are one, beyond time and space, beyond life and death. We are one, now and forever. We are Thy'la."

He paused again and his voice rose a bit in solemnity as he recited the ancient vow of his people.

"Rita Paris, apart and never parted, never and always, touching and touched; I offer myself and take you, in body, in mind, in spirit, now and forever."

For her part, Rita had promised herself that she was not going to cry. Which was becoming more and more difficult as her eyes filled with tears, her heart overflowing with the sentiment of the seemingly emotionless Vulcan expressed so publicly and pronouncedly.

The throwback Starfleet officer, in an undignified maneuver that caused those who knew her to chuckle, stuffed her hand down her top to root around briefly in her bra to produce a pair of rings, recently produced by the chief engineer. Handing one to him and enfolding it into his hand, she then took his left hand in her own, sliding the shiny Duranium ring onto his finger.

“These rings symbolize the circularity of the universe, and that our love will be without end, forever turning back upon itself,” the old-fashioned gal explained. “On my world, these bands are traditionally composed of a precious metal. In our case, I had them cast from the skin of a starship. For that is the metal precious to me, and starships brought us together, and are our destiny.”

Then she held out her own hand expectantly. This was a ritual of her people, not his. But her Vulcan groom had no objection to rituals and formalities that made her happy- it was one of the things that she loved about him, in truth.

Following her lead, he slipped the metal ring onto her extended finger.

"It is so." he simply stated, as she took his hands in her own, and turned expectantly toward the captain.

Enalia looked up from the two to the assembled witnesses before looking back between them for the final declaration. "With the power vested in me by Starfleet Command and the United Federation of Planets, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

This is the part where they expect you to kiss me. Dramatically is always best, unless you want me to take the lead on this one? Rita sent to Sonak through the bond they shared, solidified by the touch of their hands.

Andorians would expect us to touch antennae and Klingons to bite our cheeks. Shall we do as much? he projected back, reflecting to her her own wry sense of humor with his implacable logic like a mirror. But, since thou art Human...

In a totally un-Vulcan manner, he leaned over and kissed her gently.




Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMfrLFirGWc

Walking down the beach at late afternoon, holding hands, the casually clad young lovers moved with no urgency. It seemed they had all the time in the world- picking up seashells from the sand, chasing into the surf and enjoying the sea breeze and the warmth of the sun.

At a casual glance there was nothing remarkable about them. But closer inspection would reveal that the young woman was rather improbably curvaceous, wearing a bright blue bikini that showcased that fact. However, she had covered it with a macrame short robe that let the sun and wind through, yet still offered a nod to modesty. A large straw hat was wedged onto her head, in a constant battle with the wind.

The male, a Vulcan, wore the swim trunks she had suggested to him. The sun on this location was tame and dim compared to that of his homeworld, and thus was of no inconvenience to his physiology which had evolved on a dry rocky planet. The sea, however, was quite a novel experience for him. Vulcan barely had any great bodies of water, and its inhabitants were not at all enticed to it. Contrary to humans, Vulcans had no compulsion whatsoever to go near, or into, water. All nautical sports were virtually unknown to them, and of no interest for the most part. Having come from a planet that had no moon and no romantic tradition, this beach walk was as alien an experience to him as moonwalks had been for the first astronauts of Earth.

It did not evoke anything in him except curiosity, but he knew that she was enjoying it. He could observe a myriad of signs how she was relaxed and content. For him, especially at this moment, it was all that mattered.

The sound of the surf calmed Rita Paris, as it always did- not that she had anything to be stressed about. Their hotel was no luxury resort- it was serviceable, which somehow made her happier than a high-end suite. They had shopped for tourist clothes, eaten local food and drank fruity drinks and danced to live music performed by the locals. It was time away- no one knew who they were, no one called upon them for any sort of responsibility, and their time was completely their own.

It was, as she remarked, the first time in memory that she could say such a thing.

Through it all, she was genuinely and thoroughly happy. She enjoyed seeing his scientific mind analyze new foods, new experiences, new stimuli. That impenetrable calm of his was now tinged with a sense of humor, almost a mild sarcasm, that she found added spice to his already robust personality.

As they were on their own, away from the starship and the crew and their positions of responsibility, she touched him, constantly. Sensation was desperately important to the girl who'd spent years as an immaterial ghost, and while they distanced themselves professionally, they were under no such strictures here. She held his hand, wrapped her arms about him, kissed him, snuggled him, sometimes just reaching out for him because he was there.

Some small part of her kept waiting for the universe to pull the rug out from under her, and reveal this was all a dream or a hoax of some sort.

Yet he persisted, and she leaned her shoulder into him as they walked, blissfully content to be beside him.

For his part, Sonak felt and understood her unease. Because of their bond, it was beyond the mere knowledge of the dramatic and unlikely events of her existence. He had literally shared her memories, her feelings, her fears, her hopes, her despair and her joy as their souls had touched so often through their numerous mind meldings.

The emotionless mind of Sonak could not process those emotions in particular; but what he could do was share with her his own memories, his musings, his thinking. His serenity in knowing through logic and learning, and experimenting that the chaos of the universe was but an illusion. That chaos was an order in itself and it could be faced, understood, dealt with, even utilized. Just like the seemingly random and overpowering waves of the seemingly limitless sea beside them, chaos could be navigated, even harnessed; with resolve, composure, knowledge and reason.

This he radiated from his consciousness to hers as they touched. As she offered him new horizons to explore and navigate, he gave her that anchor to reality and to herself she so very much needed.

They needed each other; and they gave to each other, like the coast and the sea.

Had he been able to do so, Sonak would have smiled. This walk on the beach she had proposed was proving to be most... stimulating.

They would eat, they would dine, then they would spend time alone, bonding in the physical and mentally intimate ways which still delighted and surprised her. The emotionless kolinahr master had possessed unexpected enthusiasm for her, in that he was both capable and willing to fulfill her physical and emotional needs. It had been her life experience that few human men she had encountered were capable of either of those tasks, never both.

Yet from the start, Sonak had tended to her needs, not out of any sort of obligation or guilt, but simply because she had asked. There was curiosity, yes- but he did not view her as a specimen on a petrie dish, an anomaly to his existence to be studied dispassionately. Instead he had embraced her, in every possible way- her culture, her emotions, her sexuality. Seemingly inexhaustible and endlessly patient, what she considered insatiable was merely a challenge for him. He bore her joy, her ecstasy and her hungers as easily as he bore her tears, her anxieties and her fears.

In her, he found a wonder. In him, she found confirmation of her suspicion that there were, in point of fact, good men to be found in the universe.

Another walk along the shore, this time by moonlight, was another novelty to him, yet was something familiar and romantic to her. It was something she had dreamed of as a girl, now realized far from where she had begun, both in distance and in time. While they were establishing lives in the far-flung future where he had followed her, Rita's universe revolved around Sonak, even as he let her chart the course of their lives together. As evidenced by the formalization of their union.

"You know that Vulcan has no moon," Sonak said in a matter of fact tone, looking at the scenery. "I seem to recall someone once long ago using that to explain the coldness of the Vulcan heart."

"An interesting analogy to draw. Is it because without the tides the Vulcan body does not experience a shift in physicality from a shift in orbit? Or is it because lovers could not be drawn together in the moonlight, according to this theory of the so-called 'cold' Vulcan heart?" When she held his hand, the bright but by no means brilliant woman's vocabulary and sentence structure tended to take a dramatic improvement.

"Tides are also caused by planetary rotation, sea bed geography and water currents," he explained. "And the tidal effect of a moon on body liquids is negligible. No, I would hypothesize that this notion is prevalent because Vulcan women are logical; and in all the universe, Vulcan is the only planet that can make that claim."

Now she knew he was not serious. Or was he?

"And here I thought what won you over was my logical argument that we were going to die, so we should have sex which, as I recall, you found my reasoning 'quite logical'. All women possess logic," she grinned at him, bumping against him as the casually strolled the beach. "We just exercise our right to choose when to apply it."

"So I have seen," he stoically replied.

As she wrapped her arm about his waist, Rita pulled his arm up over her shoulders. Realizing there was insufficient height difference between them, she settled for hooking her arm through his, elbows arm in arm as they ambled across the sand. Stroking his lean bicep, she rested her head on his shoulder for a few steps.

"Thank you for this," she said quietly.

The Vulcan master of logic turned his pearly grey eyes to hers, even as the hard-luck heroine looked up at him with her own baby blues.

"It is I who must express gratitude to you. I have lived and learned things with you I have never been even aware of in sixty years; and that is saying quite a lot. And being with you, Rita Paris of Earth, is a promise of much more. You are not only opening the universe wider to me, but a whole new universe... literally. This... beach stroll shared with you under the moonlight is but only the latest such new step into a larger world."

“You really do always know exactly what to say to melt my heart,” she sighed happily, kissing his shoulder then contenting herself with walking arm in arm. “The universe is still as dangerous as it was back in our day, perhaps moreso. We will face trials and tribulations as never before. But in those dark times, I will always have this… the memory of a wonderful honeymoon, spent at the beach with you, my love. The sea and the surf and the sand… and Sonak.”

“When all hope is lost and there is nothing left except the will which says ‘hold on’, this will be my memory… the memory that will give me the strength to force my heart and nerve and sinew to serve me long after they are gone. Because I will come back to you, and we will come back to this place, to refresh this memory when the universe allows it. And when it does not, we will do what we always do,” a sly grin broke out across her face. “We’ll just have to change the rules and cheat the universe.”

"Is this what you Humans refer to as a... Happy Place?"

“Well, yes,” the happy human replied, wrapping her arms about his arm and once again resting her head on his shoulder. “But my real happy place is by your side. So long as we’re together, I am always in my happy place.”

His left eyebrow rose slightly.

"This somewhat reminiscent of basic meditative techniques. Interesting."

He looked at her again with a curious expression.

"You are aware, of course, that I have been using the memory of you as a meditation focus. I shall add this... setting and see how it works. But in the meantime, the actual life experience of you, here, is by far richer. I shall try to make the most of it... and for you as well."

Disentangling herself, but maintaining the hold on his hand, Rita stepped around to stand opposite him, taking his other hand in hers. Leading him down to sit in the sand, she knew he would follow her lead. As she settled her rear onto the sand, they sat close, but not touching; together yet separate. Settling into the meditation pose, she cocked her head curiously. "Why not both?"

He nodded and encased her hands in his, fingers extended and touching at the tips, to keep in physical and mental contact as they started to match their breathing.

In a moment, they were breathing, and thinking as one, at one with the firmness of the sand, the breathing of the sea and the stillness of the moon and one another.

The tang of the salty sea air, refreshing her body which was significantly composed of just that. The wind whipping their bangs up, showing their foreheads. The steady, soothing white noise of the crashing surf, which ebbed and flowed moment to moment. The sand sticking to their feet and their legs, realizing they would need a late-night swim to wash it off. A cry of excitement from the pier in the distance. The call of a seabird, taking advantage of the moonlight.

All this and more they took in, memorizing and crystallizing the details into memory even as they contemplated the stars above. The vast universe of which they were a part, which together they explored. Identifying the constellations, his mind mapped the stars; while hers could plot a course through them, to wherever they wished to travel.

Although sometime not where intended, to be fair. But always where they were supposed to be.


This would be their happy place. Two young lovers contemplating the universe, by the seaside, in the moonlight.

Nobody took a shuttle anymore.

Unless you were traveling light years, everyone beamed in. Even if you were traveling light years, it seemed everyone wanted to just beam in from the shuttle or runabout. Lieutenant Commander Paris was working on getting her people an exercise with real live flight time, just because actual shuttle piloting hours were precious for pilots.

Lately Rita had been promoted, which meant that she was now the welcome wagon for all of the new senior staff for which the Hera was being outfitted. Meet them, take stock to have a report, get them settled in, answer any questions, hand them a 'welcome aboard' PaDD as she was naming the ongoing briefing she was handing off to newcomers. The tablets represented their limited access to the Hera's systems until they were fully checked in and cleared from all departments, particularly medical. Scanning onboarding crew could be surprisingly revealing, after all.

For today, for the seventh time today to be precise, the transporter phobic Rita Paris was waiting in the transporter room. This time it was the intelligence chief. Unsurprisingly, the intelligence chief's job description was classified. The leggy lieutenant commander didn't even have a name. Just notice of 'CHIEF INTEL OFFICER INCOMING 72643.6 19:00'.

Cheery.

The portly and mustachioed transporter chief couldn't help but notice the way the first officer flinched every time the transporter operated, incoming or outgoing. She'd been waiting for nearly ten minutes, and that gold uniform of hers was starting to show some pit stains from her nervous perspiration. It was clear that she was trying to distract herself with work, but it wasn't working. He'd watched her as he'd activated the presets. More than once now, she reacted before he engaged the transporter.

Was kinda creepy, and it was starting to get to him.

"Say ma'am?" he asked, in his gravely grandfatherly voice. "I could call you when this arrival you're waiting for arrives. I'll send an update of the incoming traffic til you tell me to stop. You've got better things to do in places other than here I'll bet?"

That was when the extradimensional explorer flinched, and an incoming beam started to coalesce from photons back to a sentient.

Jules hated the transporter, made her stomach feel fluttery. It didn't exactly help that she was nervous. First day on a new assignment, first day with a totally foreign crew. After spending several years with the same 6 people for Project GEMINI, she had a slight case of agoraphobia developing. "Lt. Jules Lindenbrock... Reporting for duty," she announced awkwardly when she materialized.

There was no salute, no permission to come aboard, and no actual military discipline. As this was an intel officer, Paris expected an ensign, but she was a lieutenant who by now should have known better. But, no sense in starting out as a hardliner fleeter hell-bent on military etiquette. The unconventionally uniformed officer in the gold long-sleeved minidress that looked like it should have been retired 120 years ago smiled, a rather dazzling affair, and extended her hand.

“Lieutenant Lindenbrock? I’m Rita Paris, first officer of the Hera. Welcome aboard… let’s get you situated, shall we?”

"Yes, right, let's," Jules fumbled through her words. Six years of dropping formalities and replacing them with more fashionable vulgar language, she already felt the rock in her stomach starting to churn. Why she had decided to become star-ship bound again was causing more anxiety than it should have. The XO clearly was annoyed at Jules decorum and she knew that she needed to stand up straighter to please this one. "How long have you been serving aboard the Hera, Commander?"

“About two months… I transferred in from a long time ago in a galaxy far far away,” the buxom blonde offered with a continued smile as she lowered the offered and unaccepted handshake. Stepping to the door, the first officer's demeanor was still polite and cheerful as she gestured to the hallway. “How about you? Where are you coming in from? Intel doesn’t tend to be very forthcoming about transfers…”

Jules grimaced. She knew the words that would escape her lips in a moment could either make or break her time aboard the Hera. "I was a part of Project GEMINI for the past few years. After the attack on Virgo station, my commanding officer suggested we split up assignments. So, here I am."

"No idea what that means," the leggy lieutenant commander replied as she edged out into the hallway, seeing if she could coax the shell-shocked intelligence operative along. When she spoke, her tone held genuine concern. "Are you all right, Miss Lindenbrock? Do I need to get you to Sickbay or to the Counselor...?"

That was when the disheveled officer's eyes rolled back up in her head and she dropped dead right there on the deck.

Moving quickly to catch the collapsing intelligence officer in her arms, Paris at least slowed the woman's descent to the deck. On her knees beside the cold and clammy corpse of the chief intelligence officer, Paris tapped her left breast. "Sickbay! Emergency, Deck 6, Transporter room 2. Computer, activate the Emergency Medical Hologram!"

As the EMH shimmered into existence, he popped out with his canned statement as he glanced around. "Please state the nature of the... Ah, I think I see it." Reaching into the nearest emergency access panel, he pulled out a medkit and got to work with a tricorder. "This woman is unequivocally dead. It seems a rather large dose of neurotoxins were released directly into her brain and they'll be..." The tricorder started beeping rapidly, then stopped. "And now they've broken down into normal brain chemicals. If you hadn't called me so fast, I never would have seen them."

"Neurotoxins?" Reflexively Paris dropped the corpse and stood up, holding her hands splayed out before her as if she might have something contagious on them. Frowning, she tapped her comm badge delicately with one finger. "Security, report to Deck 6, Transporter room 2."

Looking around at the transporter chief, Paris turned back to the photonic physician. "Please scan the area for any other neurotoxins or potentially harmful particles. Meanwhile, place this room under medical quarantine until you've completed the scan and we're positive this isn't contagious."

Within moments, two gold clad security types came around a corner with their phasers drawn while the EMH was scanning the body for an entry point or delivery method. "With as fast as those neurotoxins did their job and broke down, I doubt I'm going to find anything in the area. I'll need to determine how they were administered first. So far all I've been able to determine was that they destroyed her synaptic pathways, then completely disintegrated."

"That's horrific. Gentlemen, secure the area until the Doctor lifts the medical quarantine," the concerned commander ordered. Looking to the ceiling, Paris called out to the starship. "Computer, please alert Crewman Dedjoy that her presence has been requested to solve a mystery in my location, and please inform the captain that we have a situation at my coordinates. Thank you." Her orders sent to the aether, Paris looked around for the onboarding officer's carry on, finding a battered olive drab seabag that was a relic twice her age. She debated rifling through it, then considered scanning it first. But the Doctor was already scanning, and by the time the Captain arrived she was going to expect some answers as to why the new Intel chief was lying dead on the floor.

After a brief chirrup from the computer and the security personnel getting into a defensive position and activating force fields at either end of that segment of the corridor, the EMH came up with something. "Ah hah! This woman was definitely murdered before she got here. I've found traces of polynucleic proteins used to encase preprogrammed..."

Glancing over at Rita, whose face wore the bewildered expression of someone who was lost from the second word of the conversation, the EMH cleared his throat and started again. "Ah... it's all very clever, but this woman had a kill switch implant. From the look of things, I doubt she was aware of it. I have to wonder what the actual trigger was though."

"I'm sure it was her arrival here," Enalia added, obviously now in a very foul mood, having arrived a moment ago and seeing the situation.

"Thanks for translating for me," Rita muttered under her breath to the Doctor as she looked up from rooting through the dead woman's luggage, then stood up to greet the commanding officer. "Computer, please holographically recreate the thirty second period starting three seconds before Lieutenant Lindenbrock beamed in?"

At that the room shimmered and 'reset', as the captain got the opportunity to personally witness the holographic recreation of the event, up to and including the new chief's death, ending with the arrival of the EMH and the declaration of his scan results.

=^=Holographic recreation complete,=^= the computer reported.

"So that's what we've got. As you can see, she didn't look that healthy when she... Captain?" the leggy lieutenant asked, seeing her commander's ashen face. The color had drained and she looked as though someone had walked across her grave.

"Get this cleaned up and transfer the body to the Intel labs in the pod. I want it examined in every imaginable way. Put the EMH and Dedjoy on this immediately." Without another word, the captain turned and stalked off. She didn't need any further reminders of that failed project. She had tried to take in an old acquaintance, and instead she had ended up with an assassination. The question was if this was a message... and if so, what was it?

Left behind in the transporter room, the first officer and the holographic healer eyed one another dubiously. Eventually the gold-clad cosmonaut shrugged, shook her head and addressed the Doctor. "All right, Doctor. Can you verify that we are clear to lift the quarantine, and that this poses no further threat to the Hera and her crew? Chief Fingerman and I aren't going to similarly keel over in 72 hours or something, are we?"

"I can find no trace of anything dangerous whatsoever," replied the EMH. "Crewman Dedjoy and I will let you know as soon as we have anything. Computer, please transport the body to pod storage Victor three one."

With a chirrup, and a brief pause, the computer complied, the body vanishing in the silver sparkle of the emergency medical transporter rather than the more blue of the normal one.

"Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate your diligence- good work," Paris patted the EMH on the shoulder. "I'll inform the next of kin. Chief, call your relief- you're off duty for the rest of the day," Paris ordered. "This one wasn't on you, but all the same, maybe go have a conversation with the counselor."

The gruff transporter chief snorted derisively. "Ma'am, with all due respect, I suspect that was rougher on you than me. I'm fine, I don't need counseling- I served in the Dominion War and I've seen a lot worse than this. I'll do it if you make it an order, but otherwise, I've still got work to do today."

With a wry smirk, the first officer shook her head. "Suit yourself, Old Salt," she said, using an ancient nautical term that was still in use in the fleet back in her day. "All right, Doctor. Please lift the quarantine and I'd appreciate it if you would keep us posted as to you and Dedjoy's findings. Chief, you can stay on duty if you like, but I'm leaving the security detail on hand in case anything else deadly happens today. Gentlemen, you are on standby in case of emergency. You know the drill, so keep a detail here until 23:59 hours."

Handing over a black datacrystal embedded with circuitry to the Doctor. "Have Dedjoy inspect this, and report her findings only to the Captain."

As for me, it looks like I need to go have a conversation, Paris thought to herself as she took one more look around her least favorite place on the Hera. Because Paris was certain that look on the captain's face was significant, and that most definitely meant trouble ahead.

She laid back on the small, tight cot in the aft of the aging runabout. There were three other passengers all fast asleep while the crew at the helm struggled to keep their eyes open on the long journey. They were three days in of a 7 day trip from Starbase 17 to the U.S.S HERA to join its crew as a junior Flight Control Officer, but Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox was too wound up to sleep.

The warp nacelles on a Danube class runabout were roughly ten feet from her head on the other side of the bulkhead and there was a low-frequency hum that vibrated through the hull that she couldn’t make herself ignore. It was too familiar for her, having grown up on frigates and freighters. She was used to the steady groan of warp engines but hasn’t heard it much the last few years living in one Starbase or another. This felt more like home, out in the vastness of space.

Melanie quietly crawled out of her upper bunk and slid slowly to the floor, doing her level best to not wake up her fellow passengers. They were on their way to DS7 as engineering crew and would be staying on the runabout for a few days longer then her for their destination. She took a seat along the port bulkhead on a short padded bench seat where she could look out the window. Seeing the stars streaking past the window put her at ease. She watched as the colors of the streaks of light shifted along the visible spectrum, glowing from a warm blue to red as they drifted away in the runabouts wake. She figured that the ship was moving at roughly warp 2, maybe 2.5.

At top speed, such a ship could travel at warp 5 for a while but it’s never a good idea to cruise at maximum velocity and Starfleet wasn’t in a major hurry to deliver her to the Hera. But still, she was beyond excited. After spending the last 6 years since she graduated the academy piloting cargo shuttles and ferrying the occasional passenger from the starbase she felt trapped in, she was finally moving to a STARSHIP. A recent mission bringing a delegate from the Starbase to a nearby planet dealing with an internal civil war let to her small shuttle being stranded in an asteroid field, their engines blown out by a hidden gravimetric mine. But the then Ensign Nox got her delegate to their destination with some clever piloting that involved using the shuttles limited tractor beams to push and pull off of the nearby asteroids until they were close enough to be safely rescued. It was a clever bit of problem-solving that earned her a promotion and the eyes of a few higher-ups at Starfleet that decided to end what she felt was an exile in "starbase limbo". And now she found herself a Lieutenant Junior Grade and on her way to the HERA.

The Hera was a massive Nebula-Class starship, one of the largest and most spacious ships in the fleet and Melanie was still running the deck maps over in her head hoping she didn’t get lost. She knew that the Hera frequently patrolled the Klingon-Romulan border but beyond that, the young Lieutenant knew very little about her new assignment. What she DID know was a fact that few people did: That a chunk of her childhood was spent on ships that went places that they weren’t supposed to. Places like the Romulan Neutral zone, for example.

The daughter of lifelong spacers, Melanie Nox was piloting the frigate she lived on by the time she was ten . It came naturally for her. Living on ships gave her an easy comfortability around them and she could navigate often with little more than a fixed star in the window.

The aforementioned spacers, Melanie’s parents, could also be described by another title: Smugglers. Her father was a human with an extremely low opinion of the politics of Starfleet and the Federation who was never shy about expressing it. Her mother was a half-Romulan with little love for the empire and a strong desire to chart her own course in the universe. They were hardly master criminals, but they had just enough contacts to allow them to slip through the border to run supplies from Remus to various outposts in Federation space. Nothing particularly epic, but Romulan Ale didn’t end up all over the quadrant by accident and frigates like the one Melanie grew up on helped that supply chain along. Nothing lasts forever, however, and their ship was stopped by a federation patrol when Melanie was only 14. The ship was confiscated and Melanie’s parents were taken into custody by Starfleet. Melanie was questioned for 3 days by Starfleet officers in Black uniforms she had never seen before or since and told them about everything that she knew. She told them about her time navigating Romulan space by the stars and what she knew about their culture. Satisfied, Starfleet did everything they could to help her assimilate to regular life on Earth. She was sent there to live with her grandparents, but being trapped on Earth just wasn't the life for her.

The life of a smuggler wasn't what Melanie wanted for herself, but she desperately wanted to be among the stars again and see the universe. Starfleet seemed like the best path to get there and be the person she wanted to be. And finally, she was on her way for real. Melanie Dox didn't know what awaited her on the U.S.S HERA, but she was a good pilot and she was ecstatic to possibly be able to finally show it. Just three 17 more hours until her life began again.

Suddenly, the ship lurched vilolently to Port. Having grown up on rickety freighters as a child, it was a sensation all too familiar to her as she found herself rolling to the opposite side of the runabout. The ship was still in a tight turn and she was pushed against the starboard side bulkhead where she had to partly crawl along the wall to the front of the ship. But as quickly as the action began, it ceased and the ship straightened up its path and began moving forward normally again.

The other passengers were roused violently from their sleep and began panicikingly asking what was happening. "Not sure, but... It's safer if you just stay put while I check, okay?" Melanie responded tersly.

Righting herself, she made her way to the pilots to check on what had happened. In the cockpit, the pilot and co-pilot were frantically doing a system check and diagnostic and instructed her to go back to the rear of the craft. She had spent six years stationed on starbases doing their exact job, piloting shuttles and roundabouts with cargo and crew transfers and was finally moving up to an actual Starship. So she was damned if she was going to not pull her new and EVER so slightly elevated rank now. "Pardon me, Ensign." with just a little more emphasis on his rank then was probably necessary. "Sorry, but I've got some experience with this kind of situation and think I can be of assistance here. At least more help then just sitting in the back of the ship like cargo. What happened?"

"We've got the situation under control, Lieutenant. It looks like a momentary failure in the port engine is all and we're running a diagnostic now to see what happened. We DO have everything under control, I can assure you." The pilot responded.

Slightly frustrated as her gaze shifted momentarily out the forward window to space ahead, Melanie replied "Fantastic, so why if we're still running a diagnostic are we still moving? I'm just snowballing here, but shouldn't we find out why the engine malfunctioned from a stationary position? Isn't that standard protocol here?"

"Oh my god, did I just cite protocol?" the young Junior Lieutenant thought to herself as the pilot begrudgingly stopped the ship.

"According to the diagnostic, it looks like we have a small fuel leak in the port nacelle." The pilot reported. "Nothing too serious. We can patch that internally, reroute additional power from the starboard nacelle and be back on our way in... 45 minutes."

"Does the diagnostic say what caused the... hold on. Scooch over a second." The increasingly impatient young woman followed up. "You did an internal scan, but what about external? Maybe we ran through something out here our sensors didn't pick up." Nox's fingers ran across the consoles running a number of external scans of the space they had just passed through while the pilot shot her a harsh stare. Melanie noticed the stare but ignored it.

"Yeah. We just passed through a super dense, spacial anomaly. They bend space so our sensors don't see it until you've hit it unless you do a level two or above scan. Essentially it's like a pothole in space that popped a hole in our nacelle. Way too small to be a problem for a larger ship, but we weren't so lucky. And we wouldn't have been so lucky if we kept moving." Melaine gestured to the heads-up display to show a field of similar anomalies dotting space in front of them.

Staring at the display, the pilot stuttered momentarily. "Uh... Yes. Yes, thank you, Lieutenant Nox. I... I think we should contact the Hera and apprised them of our situation. Once the engines re-calibrated, we'll proceed at impulse until we're clear." Immediately, the pilots began to work hurriedly on their consoles. Melanie awkwardly backed out of the cockpit, noticing the irritated looks on the pilots and beginning to feel embarrassed by her own behavior.

The other passengers were milling about the back of the runabout, talking amongst themselves when Melanie returned to the back. "Uh, everything's... It's all under control. So, yeah, so we can all get back to sleep."

They were confused and looked annoyed that she didn't offer up and more information as she quickly walked past them.

"Brilliant move." She thought as she slid back into her bunk. "You can never just let people do their jobs." She knew she was right to intervein but still felt terrible that she couldn't have resolved the situation better. She was going to be reporting for duty on a STARSHIP tomorrow, and that kind of attitude wasn't going to be making her any friends.

Suddenly, tomorrow seemed a lot bigger in her mind.

The time had come to face her demons. The moment she had dreaded. They cleared her at fleet, but what kind of mind games would this counsellor play?

"Well, may as well get it over with. Seregon French reporting. as per my orders." she said loud enough to be heard.

The woman in room was sitting at a table, regarding an old fashioned photograph. When Lieutenant French spoke, the councilor's looked at the woman, revealing her eyes' black irises- a trait of all full blooded Betazoids. She then stood gracefully.

Councilor Avender Jurot was a tall woman, with long flowing auburn hair and pale skin, which really made her eyes stand out. Her figure was very curvaceous, which she accented by having her duty uniform specifically tailored. Her entire being radiated serenity. She smiled warmly at French, and extended her hand in welcome.

"Hello Lieutenant, I've been expecting you. I don't stand on ceremony here. Please call me Avender."

Lt. Thought French. That's the first piece of news she had received regarding her rank, now she knew. Wonder what other good news awaits me. She thought. Then she got a good look at the counsellors eyes. "Oh my, you're eyes are absolutely amazing." Said French not really knowing where that remark came from. "Oh forgive me doctor, a Frodian slip of the tongue, I assure you." Said offered.

Avender giggled slightly. "No apologies necessary, Lieutenant. Also, I'm a counselor, not a doctor. Am I the first Betazoid you've ever met?"

Avender kept her hand extended.

French realized she was staring and left the Counselor hanging. So she caught herself. "Oh, I'm sorry." And she took the Counselors hand. "Forgive me. I'm actually straight, but you are gorgeous. And no you're not the first Betazoid that I've met, but you will be the first one to examine me so to say. But I'm cool with it. Ask me anything you want and I'll answer." Said French.

Avender smiled. "thank you, that's very kind of you to say." She then motioned toward a comfortable looking chair and an extremely comfortable looking reclining couch. She sat in the chair, and looked expectantly at the beautiful lieutenant.

French smiled at the compliment and followed her gaze to the comfortable looking recliner thingy. Releasing the Counselors hand and almost pouring herself into the recliner. A wave of anxiety seemed to leave her body and she fell right under her therapist spell.

"Now that feels nice. Look with the mission of the Hera being what it is, I'm sure you have the clearance to hear my troubles. So please don't hold back. Tell me what I need to do to work this out so I can get back to doing what I love. Working in my chosen profession!" Said Seregon

"Well, Lieutenant, shall we stand on formality, or may I call you by name?" Avender said, smiling. French felt a warm comfort about her, like a familiar joy.

"Please call me Seregon or Frenchie, either will do." She said joyfully. Not knowing why she felt so good and trusting.

"Frenchie. I like that! Ok, Frenchie, so you know how I work, I'll tell you a few things. I'm a telepath, so if I wanted, I could read your mind, figure out what the issue is, make you forget it, and you could go on your merry way. However, that is something that I refuse to do. I prefer to have you tell ME the issues that are bothering you, and we work them out together. And yes, I have the top security clearance, so even if I didn't have Counselor/patient confidentiality, I can still keep a secret."

Avender shifted in her seat, getting comfortable. The whole room felt comforting, like nothing could ever hurt anyone in here.

"Then I will begin at the end. Just over two years ago, I killed my lover." and she paused for that to sink in. "It was in the line of duty, but that I'm sure you know to the mind does not matter. You see I was undercover when we became lovers and it was my job, no my duty to see this mission through." said Seregon as she took a minute to readjust herself on the recliner. As she crossed her arms tightly across her chest she felt as if her heart would leap out and that this unconcious action would somehow stop that from happening. She could also feel a tear forming in the corner of her eye. Which she quickly wiped away, as he no longer deserved her tears.

"The story goes as follows. Star Fleet had made an agreement with the Risan Government to help with security issues. Since so many of our citizens frequent the planet on a regular basis, it made since that we have a presence there. So they sent me and a 12 man team to Risa. After a couple weeks there, it was brought to our attention that Humanoids were disappearing at an alarming rate. Sometimes two a week. So far the count was 32 and growing. This was something that could not be over looked, so my team and I were tasked with finding out what was going on, who was responsible and finding these missing or kiddnaped Humanoids and liberating them from their captures." and she paused. "please can I have a glass of water?" asked Seregon.

Avender nodded, stood and went to the replicator. "A pitcher of ice water please. Two glasses." The replicator hummed and her order appeared. She brought the pitcher and glasses to the table, moved a low table next to the couch, then put the empty glasses on the low table. She then poured the lieutenant a glass, handed it to her, and poured her own. She did this with a deliberateness that almost suggested a ritual. She reached to the other side of her chair, and produced an antique looking box of tissues, which she also placed on the low table next to Seregon. She then sat back in her chair.

"Please continue," Avender said.


French took a deep breath, drank from the glass closest to her and settled back to give her account of what had happened. “For my part it was decided that I would go under cover and see if they would take the bait. It worked better than we could have expected. I was in a bar that’s frequented by the type that might indulge in such activities and we got a bite.” She took another sip of water.

“He approached me like a lion would a fresh kill in the wild. I could see the Predator in him. He sat down at the bar with me and I let him reel me in. I had no idea mind you if this was our suspect or not, but we were hopeful."

I suspect this will not end well, Avender thought. "It sounds like you had a fair idea though."

"You could say that. So one thing led to the other and I gave the surveillance team the signal to let it play out. We had a transporter tag on me. A stealth ship in orbit tracking me and a recovery team ready to come get me if I sent a signal to be pulled out. But what I did not know was our team had gotten one of us on the inside as a kidnapee. Trudy had actually gotten captured and was victim 34 or 35, we were not sure. So when he invited me back to his, i went. The moment we walked through his hotel room door, we were transported to his ship. So I figured, let the games begin and they did." And she stopped and took a sip of water.

"Days turned into weeks and he did not trust me enough to tell me what I wanted to know. I was worried that he would never tell me anything, then one day we were taking a stroll around the ship and he took me to the brig area and there they were, my operative and 7 other females just waiting to be dropped somewhere. Needless to say I was pissed to see my agent and team mate stuck in there like an uncleared unfed animal in a cage. So I appealed to his kindness and asked him to please feed them, in fact I told him that I would be glad to feed them if he would allow it. Little did I know it was a setup. He was so paranoid that he thought there might be an undercover in the cage, so he waited to see if It would revealed by our actions. So he monitored us and our interactions. I didn't, but Trudy made a mistake. She tried to escape, and he was ready for her." And Sesregon began to cry!

"We were on another one of our walks, when an alarm sounded. He told me to go to our quarters for safety. You already know I wasnt about to do that. so I trailed him, am got there just in time to see him shoot Trudy and then disintegrate the body. I was heartbroken and pissed at the same time. But I had no idea where we were or where we were going, so I had to play along." she said through sobbing and tears.

The counselor nodded slowly. "And with her body disintegrated, there was no evidence. Did he begin to suspect you then?"

"He didn't have to. I told him that he was under arrest and I shot him for the first time. He was shocked and so surprised that he dropped his weapon and kinda stood there looking at me. When he did not fall, I changed the setting and shot him again. He was an Orion. They have a superior constitution. I said to him, I'm Commander Seregon French with the Risan Security Force and you are now my prisoner. His shock turned to anger and he started forward. I shot him again. This time he stumbled back and got very angry. That's when I changed the setting for the final time, bypassing all the middle possibilities straight to the highest setting. He lunedged at me and I disentagrated him!" And she broke down in a fit of tears. "I.....did..not...want to.......but it ....was my.....duty to.....stop him!" And she sat there crying with her head in her hands for long seconds.

"During the investigation, I was found to be suffering from PTSD and cleared of any wrong doing." She volunteered. "Oh we found those who had been previously taken on a Ferengi Moon at a resort for carnal pleasures." And she looked up at the counselor. "All the information we needed was on his personal computer, detached form the ships main core."

Avender nodded. "Yes, PTSD is present, as is survivor's guilt. They are a powerful pair. I'm impressed that you've continued with Starfleet. How can I help?"

I think there's something else as well, but I won't pursue it unless she asks, Avender thought.

"I've been out of action for two years. I've spoken to other therapists along the way. But I still feel as if there this something in the background that I just can't shake or put my finger on. Can you help me?"

The Betazoid thought for a moment. "Yes, I think you're right. There is more to this trauma than just the death of your friend. That was painful, to be sure, but I think that experience triggered a previous trauma locked away, possibly in your subconscious. There may even be a 'memory graft' obscuring it, as you've done work for Fleet intelligence."

The counselor sighed.

"If that's the case, I would need the Captain's, and your, permission to see into your thoughts and emotions in hopes of finding what happened. Before we take that step, which would not be pleasant for either of us, I'd like you to start keeping track of a couple of things. I'd like you to write down what happens when your dream- immediately every time you wake up. Also, if you experience a sense of deja vu, I want you to log that as well. Can you do that for me? For, say two weeks?"

"As long as it won't keep me from doing my job, I'll do anything you say!" Replied French

"Ok, that's the course we'll take for now. Is there anything else I can do for you right now?" Avender asked.

"I was instructed by the First Officer Paris that once I completed my medical and spoke to you that your findings would be sent to the Captain. She is my final port of call today. So if you could forward what we have done so far, that would be appreciated." And French stood up to leave, thanking the Counselor gif her time.

The Counselor stood as well and smiled. "I look forward to serving with you, Frenchie!"

"Ditto." They shook hands and French left the office.

~~

The hum and bustle of the USS Hera had been going on for a few hours now. Shore leave was over and everyone was ready to depart. They were just waiting on the captain to give the word. As final checks were being called out across the bridge, Enalia stood up from her command chair and looked around one more time.

"Release all moorings. Maneuvering thrusters full power reverse. Take us out Ensign." She called out, thrusting one arm out in an old nautical maneuver reminiscent of old sea captains.

"Aye Captain, moorings cleared. Full reverse. Fortress clear in ten seconds." Mona called back.

As the view of the fortress receded in the viewscreen, Enalia resumed her place in her seat and punched up a star map on her chair's terminal. "Bring us about to 279 Mark 44. Set course for Meroset 347. Make best possible speed out of the system, then go to warp eight. Engage."

"Aye Captain. 279 Mark 44. Coming about now." Mona swung the ship around and reversed thrust as if the Hera was a ship a quarter her size before laying in a course. "Course set for Meroset 347. We'll be there in about a week."

Enalia had to grin a bit. "Excellent. That should give us plenty of time for briefings and training."

Arriving from the turbolift, Paris looked up from the omnipresent PaDD in her hands and was crestfallen to realize that they had cleared all moorings and were headed into the system. "I missed the launch? Phloog..."

Shambling a bit onto the bridge, Paris paused. With Ensign Gonadie at the helm, she wasn't needed there. There were seats off the captain's chair, but they seemed to be universal stations. The truth was, the Constitution-class expert really wasn't sure where to sit. Looking around the bridge, Paris was clearly a bit awkward.

"So, I guess if you're on the bridge I'm not, or... how does this work, ma'am?" All of the duty that Paris had served so far had been in port. This was the first time she'd been the first officer on the bridge with the starship underway.

Enalia motioned to the chair to her right side. "Normally the first officer sits there and monitors everything with me. Ships this size often take two people to command them at times. Captain gets the forefront of things and first officer takes care of the background things. If you prefer to sit somewhere else..."

"Sorry, ma'am. First time," Paris muttered, smoothing out her skirt as she settled into the indicated seat. Logging into the station, she immediately began checking the telemetry, course and heading. All of which Gonadie had covered. In fact, she even had a course adjustment that was smarter than the one Rita would have chosen. Better pilot and a better navigator was a hard pill to swallow, but Rita Paris had long ago given up on being the best at everything. Now she just settled for being good.

Bringing up reports and section statuses, Paris started filing paperwork, then considered for a moment, ran a search program and came up with the Starfleet Executive Officer Guidebook. Because there was a Powerpoint for everything in the future.

Enalia stretched and tapped at her console a bit before sending a message with an attached picture of a cartoon drawing of the Captain riding the Hera through space that one of the lower decks crewmen had done to Rita's console.

>Is this the command part? I mean, you just do your paperwork up here and kill time waiting for something to go wrong?< Rita texted back.

>Most of the time, yeah.< Enalia shot back in the messenger app. >Though most things that go wrong aren't that big, thankfully.<

There was a moment where Paris considered her next statement, then tapped it out, edited it, then sent it. >I'm used to running around the ship, checking in with people, getting the barometer of what's happening to report back. This seems so... sterile and removed. This is command in the 24th and a half century?<

Enalia couldn't help but grin as she typed out a reply. >With a ship this big, yes. Running around is Ila's job. If this was a small ship, we could visit everywhere easily, but we have over a hundred offices and a bridge to maintain.<

To the officer who had spent the past seven hours doing just that, tracking miles across the huge starship that seemed as though exactly how it should be done. The gold-clad commander had become a common sight in turbolifts and Jeffries tunes around the Hera as she worked through the preflight checklist. She could always tap Gonadie out to have something to do, but it seemed as though that wasn't her job anymore. Idly she scrolled through some options screens to see if there was a Galaga emulator, then stopped and tapped back.

>With all due respect, it just seems like there's no need for me here if you're here, ma'am. I'm supposed to manage the crew, right? Shouldn't I be amongst them to do that?< Paris tapped out as onscreen the asteroid belt approached. Debating, she turned back to look at the Captain, who was preoccupied with something in the screen. Debate continued for a few seconds, then she sent the message anyway. Honesty was best, and perhaps she didn't understand what she was supposed to be doing here. Pretending she did wouldn't help anyone.

Enalia looked up and stared at Rita thoughtfully for several long moments before typing out a reply. >Perhaps you're right. I do visit most parts of the ship but not as often as I'd like. If you have the time and energy, carry on. Just please report to the bridge when there's a crisis.<

It seemed both of them were feeling each other out over how they would work together to run the mighty starship, which she appreciated. Captain Telvan didn't expect her to know everything just yet, but by the same token, it seemed she trusted Rita's instincts. Turning back to the Captain, Rita raised her eyebrows and nodded slightly in a 'you sure?' expression that was simple to read.

Enalia instead typed out a reply to the odious inquiry. >You've proven the infamous human gut feelings are worth something after all. I trust you and I'm glad you're here.<

>I won't let you down, ma'am. I'll be here in a hurry if there's trouble, have no fear.< Paris typed back. Signing out of the station, Paris parked her PaDD on her hip as she rose, then made her way fore to tap the Hera's pilot on the shoulder. As Gonadie turned, expecting her chief to be taking over, instead Paris simply patted her assistant's shoulder. "She's in good hands, Ensign. Steady as she goes."

Pivoting, Paris made her way off the bridge, a smile on her face and a nod for the Captain. There were a hundred departments onboard the Hera, and not all of them would get a visit from the first officer today. But a surprising number would, as the mighty starship left behind the Artan Family Fortress and the Kabul system.

The USS Hera hurtling once more toward the stars, her destiny.