After his meeting with the Captain McBain had a lot to think about. Mutated borg creatures not the most vexing either. Hera was a Greek Goddess and among the most powerful if not the most powerful. He had read up on the Greek God's and smiled to see he had been right. She was in fact equal to Zeus, his wife as well as his sister. So she was top dog among those immortals. He continued his research and found immortal was just not a catch phrase. They basically could not be killed? So how does one fight someone who can not be killed? McBain found the ship had a rather complete Library on the subject and he began reading the manuscripts nightly before bed.

He worked by day meeting the people he needed to meet, getting his medical baseline established with one of the doctors and his brain checked by the counselor. The medical was done for him by Asa who he had spent time training in the MACO armor. They were going to be the team medic as he understood it. The Counselor Avender he had met for dinner, one of his first social outings on the Hera. In fact it was the first as he had missed his chance to run with the Engineer. All in all his few days aboard had been very busy. Training a response team in the new MACO armor and meeting the Intelligence Chief. It sort of felt like he was jumping in at the deep end.

Despite his activities getting familiar with the ship and crew he had been diligent about learning about Hera and her abilities. One of the things he learned was this Hera never forgave people. If she felt slighted she would get revenge. That was not a very comforting thought if you considered the fact she was both un-killable and immortal. His job was to find a way to end her existence if negotiations failed. This had no good ending that he could see?

Digging into things that might do away with an immortal he came across the head of the Gorgon. Apparently they could be turned to stone? Smashing the stone would kill them. He had no idea how to find the head of the gorgon and from the sounds of it, the head was not very safe to have around anyways.

The poison secreted by the Lernaean Hydra could not kill them. It was claimed to be so painful as to make the deity give up their immortality so they could die, ending the torment. That raised the question what else might make them wish to die? If they could renounce being immortal that might be something to look into. McBain wondered if the Godess gave up her immortality if she would also loose her powers? Than again once given up would she be able to reclaim her immortality if left alive? That was a can of worms he was not too interested in. McBain had no idea where he might find this hydra critter anyway so he ruled that option out. He did wonder though if the poison might be replicated? He made a note to search for the properties of the poison.

So he was reading more about the immortals in general and came across a story that seemed useful to his quest. According to one story Gaia, gave a sickle made of Adamantine to her son Cronus. He used that sickle to castrate Gaia's husband, Uranus, God of the sky. Now this adamantine was the hardest known mineral. The mineral was so hard it could damage immortal flesh. Now McBain was one of those who believed if you could cut someone than you could kill them. So if this Adamantine could castrate Uranus it in all likely-hood could kill an immortal?

More reading and research revealed this Adamantine either did not exist or was something magical in nature made by these immortals themselves. Another dead end? He read on though researching the hardest real minerals available. He found Tungsten and Rhenium, two of the most dense minerals in existence together made something akin to Adamantine! Both of those minerals were rare but producible. In fact tungsten was used by the military already in armor piercing weapons. Now a bit excited that he had found something that might be feasible he read more on the ways to combine these two minerals that had such a high melt point.

He decided to go to Science first to see if his thoughts were actually viable. He was thinking of adding a Tungsten/Rhenium wire filament to a bladed weapon, like a saber or axe. The dense material might just cut immortal flesh! He had a plan anyway, if it was needed he might have what was needed. He had no real hope of success, a forlorn hope at best. Still it was someplace to begin.

That ever-popular 24-hour checklist that Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris had generated thirteen decades ago still worked pretty well, at least so far for the countdown to launch. Sure, some things were no longer valid and some new items had been added, but the countdown seemed to be proceeding apace. Which was good, because this would be the first casting off Rita had performed as first officer, and she was determined to get it right.

Which was not being helped by the constant arrivals and welcoming parties she had to do. But fortunately, unlike back in her day, so much of the systems were automated she had been able to work with the ship's computer to set calendar reminders and alarms and checkpoints that much of what was once running all over the starship for her to accomplish she could now manage from a PaDD nearby, which at this stage of the game she always had in hand. Hell, right now the brassy blonde bombshell had two in hand as she strolled out of the flight control office onto the flight deck to greet the incoming shuttle.

As the shuttlecraft's skids touched down, the curvaceous commander hustled across the deck in that long-legged military stride of hers. Adjusting her mod minidress uniform subtly, the anachronistic astronaut drew up short and waited to meet the new hotshot pilot.

There was a brief hiss as the door of the runabout opened on to the deck of the Hera. Standing a few feet back from the door was a rather short, thick young officer. With a nervous glance, she scanned the shuttle bay outside with her eyes, swallowed and made a quick tug on her uniform top to straighten it out.

She stepped forward into the doorway of the shuttle and looked down slightly to meet the gaze of her new First Officer. The nervous new transfer was momentarily taken aback. She had read up on the crew manifest but that only offered up names and ranks, so she was unprepared to be met by an officer wearing a uniform she last remembered seeing in the Smithsonian on an Academy field trip.

"Uh..." She stammered slightly. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox, reporting for duty, ma'am."

The anachronistic astronaut smiled, a somewhat dazzling affair that made her look somewhat like nose art on a WWII bomber, and extended her hand. "Lieutenant? Welcome aboard the Hera. I'm Rita Paris, the first officer." At that, the buxom blonde seemed to pause, as if she were waiting for something.

The new recruit stepped down from the door to the deck of the ship itself to meet her new First Officer. Starship protocol was something that Melanie Dox still struggled with and formalities did not come naturally to her, so she looked across at the outstretched hand as her eyebrows pursed, showing just a slight bit of confusion. As taken off guard as she was by Lieutenant Commander Paris' out-of-time appearance, she was even more unprepared for a greeting as casual as a handshake.

Trying to look as nonchalant as possible, the anxious new crew member quickly wiped her hand against the side of her uniform leg in case she was clammy, then quickly met the welcoming gesture.

During the excruciatingly long 7 days that the runabout took to deliver her from her previous posting at Starbase 17 to the HERA, Melanie had made more than a handful of protocol flubs with the shuttles two pilots and was terrified of making similar mistakes now. Nevertheless, she stood there, shaking the hand of her new First Officer, looking up at the statuesque blonde with a slight smirk at the corner of her mouth and realized that it had been nearly 5 seconds as she was still shaking her hand.

After two pumps, the professional Starfleet handshake she'd been taught since she was a child, Paris smiled then let the younger woman's hand go... or tried to, then let her hand linger till the junior officer figured it out. Gesturing to the pressure doors at the fore of the flight deck, the cheerful commander asked, "So shall we get you onboard, Ms. Dox? We can skip that whole 'permission to come aboard' bit. I guess that's just something they did back in my day, not in the modern Starfleet. So you're a pilot, eh?"

The woman seemed possessed of perennial cheer, which was mildly unsettling.

Before waiting for any response to her question, Rita Paris turned and passed through the doors into the corridors of the Hera. Dox paused momentarily and quickly shuffled to keep pace with the significantly taller first officer. Paris kept close to the right side of the corridor and Dox took it to mean she should be walking at her side. She also remembered that she had a question to answer.

"Um... Yes, yes ma'am. Shuttles, freighters, runabouts. This is my first assignment on a starship, but I'm fully rated on this class and have logged my holodeck simulation time requirements and then some."

"If you get bridge duty that will be a treat for you, if we drop to impulse on your shift," the pretty pilot explained. "We've got a rather thrilling control interface. I'll let Ensign Gonadie introduce you to it. She designed it, after all." The long-legged lieutenant had been slowly increasing her pace, and was now moving at a military march down the corridor.

"So what's your passion, Miz Dox? What drove you out this far into the universe to go farther from here?"

Darting her eyes from the floor to the panels along the wall, Melanie struggled for an answer. She was reserved about giving up personal information and wasn't expecting anything approaching small talk so quickly. "Being out here IS my passion, ma'am. I'm..." She paused, feeling like her response was a test she had no idea how to pass. "I'm not... Comfortable if I'm not moving. Living on a planet is just too confining to me."

Without being able to read the Hera's first officer, Dox decided to be as honest as she could without opening up too far. After all, she knew she didn't want to be miserable the entire time she was serving on the ship and starting off even a professional relationship trying to duck questions wasn't the best policy.

"Vagabond, eh? Well, there's a lot to be said for going lots of places. It makes you cultured and well traveled, and adaptable to new circumstances. Bit of an explorer myself," Paris nodded to the junior officer with a close-mouthed smile. "I wanted to go and see what was out there. See the wonders of the universe and witness thermodynamic miracles." It was evident from her tone that the friendly first officer seemed earnest and forthright. Somehow that 2257 recruitment poster look of hers made it work in an oddly old-school Starfleet way.

"So what's your hobby, Lieutenant Junior Grade?" Paris took a sharp turn to starboard and watched to see if the shorter-legged officer would keep up.

Speeding up slightly to match Paris' pace, Dox huffed slightly before responding with the least committal answer she could think of under the circumstances. "N... Nothing really. Starfleet doesn't really leave too much time for hobbies."

"Mmm. They say if all you are is the job, then the job is all you'll ever be. But what do they know, right? Who are 'they', anyway? Well, you must have a million questions about your new assignment. I can practically feel the excitement you're radiating, Miz Dox. So ask away, what would you like to know about your new assignment?" The surprisingly speedy senior office took a pivot turn to the left, clearly expecting her companion to keep pace.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm excited to get to work." Dox replied, determined to keep pace as they walked. "Although I'm even more excited to find out what all that work is going to be. The transfer order was a little vague on specifics."

"Waaaaahhhll, you're a pilot, right?" Paris pulled away a bit ahead to make certain she caught the introverted officer's eye."So usually in that line of work, unless it has changed significantly in the past hundred years or so, involves guiding onesself between points A and B, with replots along the way when someone comes up with a reason to stop or change course or what have you." Paris took another turn, this time to port and she slowed the pace a bit. "I mean, that's the job pretty much as I understand it? Plot a course then execute it?"

With the conversation shifting back to work, Dox relaxed a little bit. Piloting was a subject she was confident about and she found herself responding more naturally without really having to think about it. "Absolutely, ma'am. Point A, point Z and any points in between."

"That's good. That's very good, in fact," the cheerful commander commented. "Now, what would you say is the most important quality in a pilot, Miz Dox? A steady hand, coordination, reflexes, experience, daring, caution? I'm curious to hear your thoughts on the subject, as it seems to be your passion."

"A little bit of everything, really, I think." Dox was answering quickly now, her nerves replaced by her confidence in her job. "But honestly, I think the most important thing is being able to adjust and react to anything that comes up without hesitating or panicking."

"Cool head under pressure," The lieutenant commander commented as she turned to the fore. "Very important, and it's easy to see why that would come to mind. That's the virtue of a pilot that is completely self-reliant, is it not? The command can't keep you calm and ready, the controls only respond to your input. So that's the one thing that you and only you control in the equation. That about sum it up for you, Lieutenant?"

That gave Melanie pause, as she took a moment to think about an answer that didn't come off as egotistical. After all, the majority of her time in Starfleet was in piloting shuttles and runabouts, often by herself. "Well, to a degree, but it's also about being able to respond to a order as quickly and efficiently as a crisis and not get stuck in your own head."

"Most certainly important, I would have to agree," Paris replied as they began to pass the pressure doors of the flight deck again. "Personally I'm a fan of navigation. Back in my day, when permission to come aboard was a thing, we would keep track of where we were, and where we were going. Because it was often important. Hell, if we weren't careful the officer sent to check us in might just walk us in a circle while we talked just to see if we'd notice. But that was back in my day, when pilots and navigators were two separate posts."

As the anachronistic astronaut finished her diatribe, they were standing just inside the pressure doors of the Hera side of the flight deck, the shuttle that had brought her in still parked on the pad. The tall and toothsome throwback officer pivoted in front of the woman on whom she had a full head of height, and smiled. "These days, you modern pilots, you can do it all, pilot and navigate. Or so I'm told."

"Now that we've achieved a certain circularity, Miz Dox, what do you say we try that again?" Lieutenant Commander Paris parked her PaDD on her hip and gazed expectantly at the new onboarding officer.

Pausing for a moment to look at the runabout on the flight deck again, Melanie Dox felt her stomach tighten up with embarrassment. "Yes, ma'am."

"So how does the line go, according to protocol, Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox?" The curvaceous commander leaned down into Melanie's personal space, her face a few inches from that of the petite pilot.

Swallowing her wounded pride, Melanie Dox ran her mind back to the moment she was standing in the door of the runabout. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox, reporting for duty, ma'am..." adding the step she missed previously in her nervousness: "Permission to come aboard."

The first officer stood back to her full height again and smiled. When she spoke, she spoke softly. "Permission granted, Lieutenant. Welcome to the Hera. I'm Lieutenant Commander Paris, the flight control chief and first officer." The antique Starfleet officer extended her hand for a handshake. Her demeanor was friendly and her eyes were not unkind.

Melanie Dox rapidly shot her memory back to the awkward and too long handshake and worked out what she hoped was the correct resolution, with a quick and simple handshake before returning to full attention. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Well, it looks like we're off on the right foot, doesn't it?" the perennially cheerful officer began to stride across the deck, turning to head to the fore of the starship. "It's not a solitary job, not on the bridge. Engineering is giving you thrust. Science is scanning ahead to give you the data to plot your course. The Captain has her own strategies, and she may well call them- she's a fair starship pilot herself. The long and short is, out here, on this boat, it's a team effort, Miz Dox. We succeed by working together, coordinating our efforts to accomplish goals. Seldom is it just you and the universe."

"On the other hand, I understand that time alone is more refreshing for introverts. If you like, I could see about ensuring you serve exclusively shuttle duty, so that you can be more of a solo operator. No need to ever risk creating emotional bonds with those around you, thus risking no loss should they be removed from your life." Apparently casual therapy discussions were business as usual for the fairly odd first officer, as they arrived at the turbolift and she pressed the up button.

That last comment hit the nervous junior officer especially hard, and Melanie realized that her new First Officer had clearly read up on her personnel file and background and that her efforts to keep her feelings to herself weren't going to be particularly effective on this ship. Closing her eyes for a moment to re-center herself, Dox decided to answer as honestly as she could but remembered to stick to protocol.

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am."

As the lift arrived, two crewmen exited and as Paris stepped on, she ensured that Dox had followed her, then she addressed the ceiling. "Computer, please hold this lift. Suspend all scanning and monitoring until further notice. Authorization Paris, Rita LTCDR 8675309." The computer chirruped and replied =^= Affirmative. =^=

The tall senior officer leaned her back against the wall of the lift and raised her eyebrows slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It's just you and me here. You may speak freely without fear of repercussion or reprisal, nor are you on any sort of official record, Miss Dox. Please proceed," the eclectic executive expressed expansively, clutching her PaDD before her surprisingly flat tummy.

"I'm assuming, perhaps incorrectly, that you are familiar with more than just my Starfleet service record but my personal history... My FAMILY history as well. Or maybe you're just extremely good at reading people. Regardless, it's relevant to how I feel about this assignment." Dox kept her gaze low but didn't pause to wait for any confirmation or response from her First Officer. "I was raised on a smuggling ship. My parents were smugglers and it's where I learned to fly and where I learned how to hate that life. So when my parents were finally caught, as much as I still love them, I was glad. I was free from the path they had set for me. It was Starfleet that did that for me."

The now visibly emotional pilot took another deep breath, re-adjusted her uniform top and continued. "When I applied to Starfleet Academy it was about more than just getting back into space and off of Earth. It was about wanting to be a part of that thing that could have destroyed my life but didn't. Starfleet could have denied my application, but didn't. Starfleet could have cut me off from my parents completely, but I still talk to them every few months whenever I can. Starfleet took away a life living afraid every day of the chaos I was a part of and offered me a structure and a purpose beyond myself and I am very appreciative of that. I am. But you're also right. I don't let people get close and I've stuck to jobs on shuttles and remote starbases because it was safer emotionally. I've been scared."

Shifting her gaze up to meet the eyes of the first officer for the first time in the turbolift, Melanie continued. "I didn't join Starfleet to be scared. To hide. To play it safe. I joined to be a part of something I didn't even know existed growing up and I'm through being scared. I'm happy to serve in whatever capacity you feel I'm best suited for, ma'am. But it is... It's my desire for whatever that service is to be... A part of something."

Melanie felt a twinge of anger at herself as she felt her eyes begin to water. She fought back the urge to cry and composed herself. "I don't... I don't want to be alone anymore."

While it could have been an act, or an elaborate hoax, that wasn't how it looked to Paris, whose mind just didn't work that way. Instead, that same honesty that made her an earnest and passionate speaker also made it pretty evident when someone else was being honest with her as well. Stepping closer, the emotional executive officer extended her arms and silently offered a hug to the emotionally embattled starship pilot.

Letting out a nervous chuckle, Melanie leaned slowly into the hug, wincing her face tightly to keep herself from just falling apart emotionally. After a brief moment, she put her short arms around Rita's back about halfway. "I have no idea if there's a Starfleet protocol for hugs." Sniffing slightly, she stepped away again. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I... Thank you."

"It's okay, Dox. We've all been there," Paris admitted, releasing the smaller woman from her prodigious bosom. Fishing in her top, she somehow managed to produce a clean and dry hankie which she fluffed to full size, then handed to the junior officer. "Here you go... take your moment. No one saw it, no one knows and your secret dies with me."

"You will be a part of something on the Hera, Miss Dox. That I can promise you. Your contributions will be recognized and appreciated, and you will get out of this assignment what you put into it. I'm your first officer, and I'm your section chief as well. So your problems are my problems, understand? There is no 'not wanting to bother the chief' or 'the Commander doesn't have time for that'. We're a crew here, and we take care of our own." Paris smiled wryly at the newly assigned officer who had no idea what she was in for. "Roger Wilco?"

Lightly patting her eyes dry and wiping her nose, Dox straightened herself back up and brushed a loose curl that escaped her bun during the hug back into place. "Understood, ma'am."

"There we are, ship-shape again," Paris smiled, hoping it got through as kind. "Computer, please resume recording and scanning, and resume turbolift operation. Deck 2, thank you." It took no time at all for the turbolift to arrive and the pair of pilots stepped out onto Deck 2, a small round hub directly below the bridge.

"These are the junior officer's quarters- in most cases, junior officers I suspect might be needed on the bridge in a hurry. Learn where the access ladders and Jeffries tubes are located, Miss Dox. Might just save your life someday." Flipping the PaDD she'd been carrying over to the redhead. "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."

"Thus we arrive at your quarters, Miss Dox," the statuesque starship siren pointed to the LCD nameplate next to the door which read 'LTJG DOX, M'. "You've got time to onboard- take your time, settle in and start taking your meetings and getting a feel for the ship. Once you're ready for duty, we'll take a little spin in the simulators and see how good you are, and we'll see where you might fit in on the Hera. Any questions for me, Miss Dox?"

The awkward, half smile that had been displayed earlier was replaced by a tight-lipped, but genuine one. Dox looked briefly at the PaDD then responded. "I'm sure I will have a million of them, ma'am. But for now, I believe I'm..." She lightly patted the base of the PaDD. "Thank you, I'm good. I'll get right on this."

"In your own time will be fine," the commander waved as she strode away. "Welcome to the Hera. Welcome to the stars, Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox."

Enalia disliked staff meetings. She disliked mission briefings almost as much. This one was looking to be almost as bad as most of the others she'd had to put up with. Compiling all the info she'd just gotten from Intel Command, she sighed and held her head in her hand as she copied it all to a PaDD. She'd had everyone she could think of needing on this mission called to the conference room some time ago so they'd better already be there. She just hoped none of them wanted to take an escape pod home after what she was about to show them.

Grabbing her secure PaDD, she headed out of her ready room and headed straight for the conference room, waving off the bridge ensign that tried to call the bridge to attention as she passed through. She neither liked nor had time for that formality.

Entering, she stood at the head of the conference table and plugged her secure PaDD into the slot at her seat before looking around the room. "Ladies and gentlebeings... Thank you all for waiting. It's worse than we thought. We're up against a very vindictive Hera and she's as pissed off as..." Enalia just sighed and sat down. "I'll just play the bodycam feed."

Unlocking the tablet feed, the spotted captain started a holo-vid that all could easily see of the inside of a stone temple with several Starfleet diplomats with an honor guard of two of those helmeted riot police they use in the Federation Council being mauled and torn apart by a minotaur while a laughing Hera sat there. Several Amazonian women flanked her but they seemed to be more for show as the beast was more than a match for the two phaser wielding honor guards. Once they had been dismembered and three of the four diplomats had been gored and dismembered, Enalia finally enabled the audio and you could hear the last one pleading for Hera to at least tell them what she wanted.

"I want all of his progeny to die." Was her response.

Then she waved to one of her marble statues. It turned towards the last diplomat and a piercing beam of energy shot from its eyes and turned him to stone.

Enalia cut off the video at that point and took a moment to collect herself before informing the crew of their mission. "Our mission is to disable her power source, disable her army's infrastructure, and get her to surrender by any means necessary."

"So where are we going and what do we know, ma'am?" Paris asked plainly.

Enalia nodded. That was what she had come to expect from her first officer. "Meroset 347. The natives are supposedly the direct descendants of Zeus himself so we suspect Hera is using them as labor to fuel her war machine. We'll be up against minotaurs, amazons, harpies, natives, apparently those statues are dangerous as well... Hera herself... And space chariots, which are a form of shuttle. They have the hallmarks of the master smith Vulcan, but we've seen no sign that he's made them. They've attacked several worlds, including Human and Trill colonies. There are also reports of attacks on Pomtol, Cervan, Romulus... overall, about forty different races have been attacked. We suspect they're all related to her anger management issues that you were all just witness to."

French took a moment and decided it was time to introduce herself. "Hello everyone, my first thought is holy crap, we are literally going up against a Goddess. But having said that. History has shown that even the Gods as we know them have been brought to task in the past. She has to have a weakness, and we have to find it. I'll be doing everything I can to find a weapon to deal with her beasts, as well as something to can slow or stop her. Have we any idea of her next target?" She asked

" Do we have any idea if Hera's tech is anything like the masters? " Thex inquired from her seat.

Enalia brought up a scan of one of the space chariots, which looked similar to Hermes' little ship, but more war-like. "Scans indicate that it should be on par with others of her kind but any countermeasures against the Master's tech we have should also be effective. Of the attacks that she's made, the fleet's trying to keep them under wraps and publicly brushing them off as pirates. So far only one has been taken down and it took a Galaxy class starship to do it. The rest were driven off with only minor losses. Command believes she's massing for an attack, but doesn't know which world she's planning to hit. Intel has been hard to get from her world."

"Do we know anything about her biology beyond the briefings I read, Captain? Or a list of Zeus progeny could yield a common DNA point. I hate to suggest targeted bioweapons, but.... " the young doctor trailed off.

Dauntless, Hera's new operations officer, looked from doctor to captain, as she leaned forward and cupped her chin in rapt attention. Monsters immune to phaser fire? Chariots that could outclass most starships? The 20 year-old lieutenant’s mind reeled from the revelation.

Chief Counselor Jurot spoke "The Federation has encountered advanced beings who craved worship on several occasions, as you've mentioned. The first recorded encounter was with a being called Apollo on Stardate 3468.1. That's when Captain James Kirk of the Enterprise discovered that destroying the power source caused the being to lose all power. On Stardate 6063.4, the same ship encountered a being which called itself Kukulkan, another ancient god from Earth history. In this case, they were able to reason with the being. Then of, course, were the many encounters with beings calling themself Q."

She shifted in her seat. "Perhaps some research into these beings could provide us with an angle with which we could end this issue without more bloodshed."

"If we can slip in like commandos and do the necessary damage in precise locations to accomplish our goals," the unconventionally uniformed first officer spoke up. "We can attempt to end the conflict without casualties. The point of this exercise is to cripple her power source and her armies, so that she can be reasoned with on a more equal ground. One where she's unable to turn you into a marmoset if you dare suggest she join the Federation and benefit from cooperation."

"So, how do we accomplish this mission, officers?"

As Enalia looked around the table at the still stunned collection of officers, she shut off the holographic display. "I had a thought on that but it's just a rough idea so far. We use the Hera as a distraction in space and offer what support we can while the Selune uses it's stealth to take out Hera's power source. At the same time, the Thor hits the army's infrastructure and support, crippling their ability to respond. After that, both away teams head to Hera's temple and convince her that it's in her best interest to give up her plans. If she doesn't..."

Tapping the controls in front of her some more, she pulled up the scans that were taken of the sword and spear that were borrowed from the forge master Vulcan to defeat the Master. "These are scans of weapons that can cut anything and will never heal. We borrowed them for a prior mission. Let's see if we can come up with something similar but a little less... Permanently lethal to us. If it can at least cut down a Minotaur, I'll be happy. If we can't come up with something, I'll authorize the use of the Section 31 armory."

"But hopefully we'll avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Just because Hera has declared war on the universe.... well, and gored and petrified our diplomatic envoys. And sent out her killer chariots that take a Galaxy-class to polish off... super alien sciences are just so odd," Paris shook her head. "But we're Starfleet Intel, so sneaky first, violent if sneaky doesn't work."

Internally Paris thought 'when sneaky doesn't work', as did most of the people in the room she suspected.

McBain had been listening to the more senior officers speaking. His research had not proved very promising but seeing the sword and spear had made him think maybe his idea was not so far fetched. He stood quietly to take the floor when no one else was speaking "Excuse me, I would like to offer something to the meeting. I have been doing research on this matter since I met the Captain a few days ago. These immortals are not harmed by much of anything I could find. There are stories of weapons made of a mineral named adamantine that is apparently magical and only made by them. In my research though I found a combination of tungsten and rhenium could make a material almost as dense as adamantine. I would like permission to meet with Science and Engineering to determine if a normal bladed weapon could enhanced by this material to make it more effective, against the minions at any rate. I did find some information that tungsten coated projectiles were shown to be more effective against the Borg."

McBain sat back down, he would not mention the Gorgon's head or the hydra's poison as those seemed far out of reach. It was not lost on him what the Captain planned. Taking out the power source or the infrastructure was unlikely to be a bloodless operation. They would need to be prepared for a fight. He figured one of those missions was going to include him. Neither sounded easy.

Sitting on a far side of the conference room, Sonak's voice filled the silence.

"Captain if I may. I apologize if I speak out of turn, as I have not even dicussed this yet with the chief science officer. But I think this is important to mention."

He stood up to be best heard.

"As our chief counselor has reported, the Federation has encountered many god-like entities in the last centuries; I am not refering of course to the pseudo-gods of certain civilizations like Val or Landru or the twenty-second century Sphere Builders or more recently the Dominion Shapeshifters of the Gamma Quadrant.I refer to true empowered entities. The Apollo encounter is most relevant in the present case, and in a smaller degree the one with the Kukulcan being. But there has been many others; in the twenty-third century, there were encounters with the Organians which imposed the Treaty of Organia and the Organia Peace treaty Zone still in effect between the Klingon and Federation borders; the Metrons during Starfleet's first encounter with the Gorn; the being called the Squire of Gothos capable of creating and moving planets also using some separate power source like the Hera entity we are facing; the so-called god of Shakaree at the center of the galaxy... And in the current twenty fourth century, Starfleet had encounters with the reality-altering Q entity; the Dowd, capable of thinking into oblivion an entire species across the universe; the being called Naguilum to which our corporeal existence is less than that of insects is to us; the Caretakers of the Delta Quadrant and the Bajoran-named Prophets of the Gamma Quadrant wormhole; and the last guardian of the T'Kon Empire."

He looked at everyone as he spoke and finished locking eyes with his commanding officer.

"Judging by the incomplete data we have, a military approach to the present situation is seemingly necessary at this point. But I would point out to the captain that, in every single such encounter in the past, the use of force alone has always failed."

McBain knew it was unwise to interject but in somethings his willpower seemed unable to override his impulsiveness. He stood facing Sonak and took a deep breath "If I may Lieutenant, I believe you are not being reasonable in this instance. The Metrons and Organians were peaceful entities, seeking a peaceful resolution. At a time when we were being hostile. They were not raiders seeking the destruction of Federation planets. I think that is a very distinct fact. I also recall Shakaree was indeed destroyed by the Klingon Klaa and his ship when that entity left his guard down. I believe the Borg or the Dominion is by far a better example of the nature in our present threat. Stopping an aggressor it appears to me is the situation here. The fact this aggressor is a Goddess is by far the biggest problem we face. She is not a disinterested party as many of the others you named. I believe you are comparing apples and oranges Sir."

"I would beg to differ, Sir, " the Vulcan stoically replied. " I would say your vegetable metaphor is more aptly describing your estimation.The Borg and the Dominion are in no measure to the level of this Hera entity and those others; they rely on instrumentality just as we do, and are as mortal as we do. This is not the case here."

Sensing the objection surging in the man, he raised a calming hand.

" But you have a point; most of those other entities were not inherently hostile, even the Q; certainly not as this Hera being seems to be. That being said, Humans have I beleive a saying that goes something like; do not bring a d'ktagh to a phaser fight. In the present case, we would be bringing a straw to fight a brachiosaurus. Make no mistake; such a being can destroy us with but a single thought."

He turned again to the captain.

"I am not saying we should not use force to save those endangered peoples from the immediate perils this entity has brought upon them... and soon to us. What I am saying is that we should consider alternatives to force when dealing directly with a being of such vastly superior power and agressiveness."


Ensign Jurot cleared her throat. "If this being is as powerful as suggested, she may have no physical weaknesses. I would think that the Klingons would have found and exploited one if there were one. I sense the tension in this room, and it has a good basis. Both Lt. Sonak and Ensign McBain have solid, if diametrically opposed points. Our ship doesn't have the raw firepower of a Galaxy or Sovereign class starship. As we are being sent, Starfleet has probably concluded that force is not the answer. Perhaps we are being sent to gather intelligence, or to find a more subtle means of dealing with this situation."

She turned to the Captain. "Captain, do we have any reports concerning Hera's psychic capabilities? A being of such power may be able to read a plan held in an untrained mind from a great distance. However, she may be vulnerable in this area as well."

Enalia had to correct the Counselor on one point she just made. "Actually, since our last refit, we're far better armed and armored than a Galaxy class thanks to Intel Command. We also have the power to wipe out that whole planet if it comes down to it." Leaving it at that, she moved on. "As for psychic defense training, Intel's more valuable assets tend to have the training for it. Myself and my Yeoman are trained. As for Hera's powers, we don't know the extent of her mental abilities. We know that she can transform people into animals though."

"As for our goal, You're all correct in a way. We need to go in with a big iTH'ka and smack her with it and hope she listens to reason. If she doesn't, we put her down with whatever force is necessary. I'd like to spare the native population if possible." Enalia left the rest of her last thought unsaid, but the unspoken part of it hung in the air like a wet fart that just wouldn't go away.

The Intel Chief had been quietly observing the discussion, watching and listening to all the points and counterpoints thus far, as well as taking in the intel gathered thus far. When the Captain finished, he stood, slowly, and addressed the room.

"Based on thuh Apollo Inc'dent recoahds, this Apollo fella didn't immediatleh powah down, once his powah soahce had been destroy-ed. Foahtunately, he was so hahtbroken at bein' rejected by hyumans that he chose to dissolve, rathuh than puhsue ret'ribyution. Hera is a differen' type o'enemeh, and has a true-blue hatred of all thuh offspring of Zeus. Might she use her remainin' powuh t'obliterate as much as possible, startin' with us? Or might she, in the intervenin' century, have heahd of thfate of Apollo, an'taken measures t'prevent th'd'struction of her source, oah, Gawd fuhbid, even have a backup source in play? Ah agree with thuh assessment that these ansuhs ah supremleh-impoahtant to not only owah suhvival of this engagement, but to th'suhvival of countless wuhlds. Ah respectfuhlly advise that we do what Intel does best- find out th'lay of thuh land, befoah we tip owah hand. This's a gunfight, not diplomacy, unless yer talkin' Jim kuhk's brand uv it. We came t'her openly, and she slaughtered owah people. We've got big guns, but callin' her out t'meet at High Noon'll just make sure she ups th'ante at 11:59." He turned to face the Captain directly. "She needs bushwhackin', Ma'am- an' we need t'know if'n she's got a posse ready t'git revenge even if we cut 'er down." He nodded in deference to the Piratical Plenipotentiary, and sat back down, his piece said.

"I concur with Mister Clemens' assessment," said Sonak nodding to the mustached human. "His analysis of the Apollo incident is flawless. As the most relevant precedent for our current situation, I would propose to base our intervention on this event. This Hera entity is acting in a most irrational manner and moreover proceeding from entirely false assumptions; but that does not imply any lack of intelligence. She might very well be quite ready for us."

The Vulcan made a pause before resuming his proposal, so that everyone could have time to process the implications of what he said.

"More importantly," he added, "she is obviously most emotional; she has been described as such by mythology and her entire current behavior is solely based on those emotions that has been attributed to her; jealousy, anger, resentment even cruelty and unfairness. Stoking such a fire would only precipitate our failure and many lives would be threatened and lost. But she has been called the patron of women, motherhood, family and marriage. I suggest that we should also work on these positive attributes to try to get to her and eventually reason with her."

McBain was only half listening at this point, way too much idle speculation and 'what-if's' for his mind. True Hera was emotional and vindictive so once you attacked her it was likely it would be all in. This was unlikely to end up as the Vulcan suggested in some diplomatic outcome. McBain was about as sure as he could be once the attack began it would be all out war. He had said apples and oranges and he still felt that was how it was. He spoke up even though he knew he should not. "You do understand that Apollo fellow, he wanted adoration and when he realized he was not going to get it, he 'chose' to close up shop. On the other hand Hera wants to avenge her honor. The saying 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'. Diplomacy was tried and failed. Now we need to focus on weapons that could hurt her."

McBain was a history buff and he remembered the ancient Crusades on Earth. "In like the year 1212, thirty thousand children left Germany and France to save the Christian Holy Lands from another faction of the time. They thought they were led by 'God' but their God failed to take notice. They all died or were sold into slavery, never reaching their Holy Land." McBain had no real faith in Hera's kindness being displayed. "My opinion is since Hera is recorded as being vengeful, once we attack in any fashion, I do not think we can risk counting on her good-nature side." He would pursue the making of weapons that might hurt the 'Gods'. Any other course to his mind was a fantasy.

The Vulcan nodded to him.

"Affirmative, Mister Mc Bain. This is exactly what I mean. Once we engage in confrontation with her, there might be no turning back. But we plan to engage on her own battlefield a foe that we have no hope in defeating on her own terms... and who is expecting us to do exactly that, therefore logically ready for us, as Mister Clemens pointed out. I am not saying we should offer no direct opposition to her actions; at this point, it would be illogical not to intervene. I will spare you the calculations as I know humans are not fond of such details, but it is however extremely improbable that we will prevail with this sole option."

Again he turned towards his commanding officer.

" There is therefore no logic in narrowing our actions only to the violent option; and no logic either in discarding an option because it failed but once... and of which we have no clue as to why it failed. The incomplete data we have gives no information at all as to how those diplomatic overtures were made; we only see the disastrous result. One thing I can point out though; as far as we have seen, their first mistake seems to have been their choice of representatives; they were all male."

" I may not know much about the Greek myths, but from what I can remember didn't Hera murder most of the women Zeus slept with? " The andorian said from her seat. " I think she'd have happily killed the representatives no matter what sex they were. I'd prefer we avoid fighting an angry goddess, but we'd better be prepared to."

"Lieutenant Sonak may have a point," Counselor Jurot said. "Hera was the patron goddess of women, and she supposedly lashing out due to the actions of a man- her husband. The failure and deaths of the previous diplomatic team may be because, as males, they represented all she was raging against. There almost definitely is some misandry at play here."

She turned to the Captain again. "Captain, our ship has a large amount of female officers, including in the top two positions. Perhaps a second attempt at diplomacy could be made with an all female delegation. You said earlier that you and Lieutenant Commander Paris have had training on guarding your thoughts. As you know, I do as well, as well as the capability of shielding your thoughts from outside sources. If we made a good faith effort at diplomacy, perhaps, as we are women, she would be more inclined to listen to us instead of instantly lashing out."

Avender looked around the room. "This would be extremely risky, but, from what I understand, the crew of this ship have faced more dire circumstances. If the negotiations fail, then a strike could be ready to launch immediately."

Asa took a deep breath…….”I’m not a sex she has dealt with…..I’m not any sex, and if she is psychic, she will see how much I hate my father for what he did to my mother. That will likely resonate. If it will save the lives of innocents, I will go. Is there a way we can send a holographic projector to communicate with her from a safe distance though? I’d prefer as not to not shake her hand while she melts me. “

"I know it was hard to tell since she's Selarian, but Ambassador Sta'thas was female before she was turned to stone." Enalia rested her head in her hands as she spoke. “This was also the third diplomatic team that was sent. The second one was all Vulcan women. She called them impish tricksters and turned them into marmosets. The first team was mixed evenly between human men and women and they were eaten by harpies before they set foot inside her temple." Looking up at the rest of the people in the room, she couldn't help but ask. "Would you like to see those videos as well?"

“So what you are saying, ma’am, is that speculation is what it is and we have our orders. Our mission is to sabotage the power generators she is using to draw her personal power, find a way to disable her army’s infrastructure so that she lacks the capacity to wage war, then approach her for another round of diplomatic negotiations once we are dealing from a better position?” Paris, as always, liked to bring the conversation back around to the point. “All with a minimum of bloodshed if possible, as I understand it?”

Enalia nodded, a hint of her piratical smirk showing. "Correct. The Diplomatic Corps have lost three ships on this so that's our job. Stack the deck and play another round of poker while she's still trying to play chess without her pieces. Once we've got all the cards, she might be in a far better mood to talk. If she isn't, she'll be far easier to get rid of."

French was in deep thought. On one hand they had this God for lack of a better term. Who had taken human form and launched an all out attack on the children of her Husband and killed as many of the women who had his children as she could find. And they needed to stop her? French thought inwardly, maybe they should help her. But somehow she did not think that would go over too well. But she felt she was on to something. why fight someone you most likely could not beat. when appeasement might work better. But she had to think this through before she brought it up. Someone had suggested an all female delegation. French thought they were on the right track. But deception was the only way this could work and we knew nothing of her psychic abilities. So finding her power base was crucial. Finding a way to cripple her or put her down completely was what they needed to decode from a security stand point. There was little that she and the security dept. could do to protect the crew on this mission and she knew that. But when all else failed, really big explosions might make the difference. Then she wished her friend was here. He might have a better take on this one than her. After all, he was a man of war.

Asa blurted out, "Achilles! Achilles heel was weak because it was not dipped in the river Styx. That implies there is a liquid source of some kind that imbues these beings with their invulnerability. If we can find it, we can try to find a way around the invulnerability. Do we have any leads on guarded liquid sources, specifically some kind of running water?"

Sonak answered her.

"According to myth, Achilles was not a god or even a demi-god like Herakles or Perseus but a mortal born of a man and a nereid; that's why his mother needed to give him this advantage and she had to do it while he was an infant, because dipping in the Styx also erases all of your memories forever. Again according to the myth, the immortality of the gods depended on another substance entirely; the consumption of ambrosia. That being said, this ambrosia might only be a symbolic representation of the actual power of those beings; namely the power source found with the god Apollo; which is one of our targets."

He looked once more at the captain.

"There is another thing we should consider if we go to confront her in person and hope to stop her; the fact that she is proceeding from completely false assumptions. For instance, consider humanity, which she has targeted as among Zeus children. This is utterly false, both in myth and in reality. In myth, Humans were created by the titan Prometheus from clay. Zeus never had anything to do with the existence of humans except in lording over them and abusing them. As for reality, the emergence of the human species is entirely and exclusively the sole product of Earth's biosphere. There is no trace whatsoever of any outside influence on it's emergence and evolution, except allegedly for the Seeder species at the very start of life itself, which, again, are not Zeus children in any sense of the word. If she could be shown her mistake in this one instance,that she is in fact destroying innocent children, women and families she claims to be the protectress of, then she might be willing to consider at least posponing her action and consider other ways."

McBain shook his head, "That is not entirely true. At least according to mythological history. True Zeus did not create humans. However one story the woman Io, daughter of Inachus of Argos. It is a perfect example of her ire. She rejected Zeus but her beauty angered Hera who tormented her all the days of her life until she reached the nation that became Egypt. Her children are credited with being the founders of the Egyptian civilization. Now reasonable or not Hera has gone after not only the women Zeus made out with, or even found attractive, but also their many children. The thing is she believes they are descendants of one of the many affairs of Zeus. If Io is considered the progenitor of the Eygptian race of humans, it is easy to see Hera's reasoning. No one has ever changed her mind. In fact the only one I ever found she forgave was Hercules."

McBain had done many hours of research over the last few days and nothing he had found looked promising. "I have no good ideas, I wish I did. We have been given the Ogre's choice. We follow our orders, act against Hera and risk failure. In which case millions die, or we do nothing and millions die. The outcome seems to be the same regardless. The only chance we have is to find a way to stop her. No one other than Zeus has really ever changed her mind once it was made. Even he was said to be hesitant to even attempt doing so. So we have to stop her ability to make war. Those prior Diplomats already revealed the chance of simply changing her mind."

"Aw, hell, folks. She's frakkin' crazy. Any amount o'reasonin' we do with her is as likely as not ta go sideways on a whim. What kinda meds do ya prescribe for a looney goddess?" Clemens was pacing, now, looking equal parts dismayed, angry, and frustrated. "Ah've got an answer- ya hafta put th'rabid beast down, an' th'rest of her pack. Ah hate ta say it, but we're all just playin' fer time ta figger out how ta cage 'er or kill 'er. She's already kicked Peace off'n th'board, and is flippin' a coin about who ta kill, melt, turn ta stone, or turn ta animals, next. Hell, we still don't know if she's trapped that poor woman in a form of stone fer eternity, and the others as animals with their sentience still intact. Her cruelty is random and boundless. Anyone we send t'speak with 'er is at a terrible risk. What if she acts like she agrees but sends 'em back to us as a killin' machine? Or plague carrier?" He stopped, suddenly, and bowed his head. "We gotta stall until we can make 'er as still as that diplomat."

Sonak nodded, his face set in stone.

"Then there are only three logical options left; we fight a costly guerilla war of attrition while doing our best to find this Zeus, the only being that has the power and a chance to sway her; or the Federation will either submit to her will and rage hoping ot will be spent before she annihilates all sentient life in the universe... or engage in all out war with her and then inevitably her entire species of godlike beings, until we come to our extinction. Again according to myth, we would be the fourth such mass extinction event from them; and all those previous races were deemed superior to us. Ingnoring mythology, anyone here can estimate the odds of us surviving such a war."

Clemens held up a hand, shaking his head, with a disturbingly-wolflike smile. "My deah Lieutenant, that premise pre-suppoahses that th'rest ov huh race isn't as tired of huh shite as th'rest of us. She's that auntie that used ta get invited tah th'fam'ly reunion, but that stopped when she bar-b-queued someone's grandkids. We've alreadeh seen that some o'her famileh are takin' a stand against th'family madness. They've helped us befoah against their kin. An' d'ya think th'Q're just gonna sit back an'let 'er wipe out theah pet project, along with ennah chance uv evah toyin' with us again? She's off 'er rockuh, an' doesn't think twice 'bout genocide- no one's safe, maybe includin' owah upstayrs neighbuhs- Oahganya may even throw in foah this fight- they like things fayuh." His smile became a lot more cold. "We gotta show we're worth savin', tho. An' show th'rest just how bat-spit crazy she is."

"Then, Mister Clemens, the first option would be the one we should engage in," agreed the Vulcan."This would be in line with what Mister Mc Bain infered when mentionning Hercules; or Herakles, "Glory to Hera" to give him his proper Greek name. Herakles proved himself doing his Twelve Labors and upon his death was brought up to Mount Olympus and made an immortal."

Counselor Jurot stood slowly. "Please excuse my bluntness, but I think this discussion is irrelevant. The Captain has stated clearly what our orders are, and what Starfleet expects of us."

Jurot looked around the room, trying to contain her anger. "We can sit here and debate options all we wish, but in the end it's all academic. Isn't it, Captain?" She looked at the Captain, sighed, and sat back down.

"If it ISN'T academic, than I volunteer to meet Hera, alone if necessary, and try to use my training to reason with her. After all, 'loonies' are my specialty." The Counselor sat with her face expressionless, and again looked around the room.

"Debate is healthy. It gives everyone a voice in the issue, and for their perspective to be heard. Personally I find value in it, because I want to hear the input of each officer in this room," Paris stood for a change, be it for visibility or dramatic effect was debatable. "Frankly, we've got a lot of perspectives. What we don't have are facts. How many troops, based where with what sort of supply lines. What's going on with the indigenous population? Do these various mythological beings have weaknesses? Where are those generators feeding her power, are there patrols of those chariot vehicles, what's the range that she can sense us. Can she sense probes?"

"Now that we've all had a chance to react to the situation, let's start working on solutions, people," Paris offered a smile, though it was a bit of a grim affair. "We need intel, and we need to gather it without alerting a very powerful enemy. Because if we are going to war, we don't want to set it off before we're ready, while we're still playing guessing games."

"With that said, we expect a report from each department on what we can do to gather intelligence on these enemies, on this planet of hostile and powerful beings led by a goddess hell-bent on revenge. Because otherwise we're wandering into a fight with forces we can't defeat, and we're doing so hoping for good luck. And in my experience," Paris' expression turned to one of chagrin, "Good intel can be counted on. Lady Luck tends to be a bit more fickle. Reports on the Captain's desk 24 hours before we reach the Meroset system."

Enalia unlocked her secure PaDD from the table and clicked it on to look at the brief plans she had started, editing them as she went. "One thing we can count on as well is past encounters. I'm making that data available as well and briefs will be sent to all of your terminals. As for the away missions, Strike team Selune will go for her power source or sources. Clemens, you'll lead the team with McBain, the Baroness, and one to three tactical crewmen. Stay stealthed as long as possible. Strike team Thor will go for her army's infrastructure and supply. Paris, you're leading that team. The Thor is built to take a beating from a starbase so feel free to ram things if you have to. Take French, Dael, Sonak, Thex, and one to three tactical crewmen. You'll be the obvious mission while the Hera is bait. The rest of us will be doing our best to draw attention to ourselves. Once your individual missions are done, meet up at Hera's temple and once you have it secured... Counselor, we'll beam you down if you're game and it'll be up to you and Paris to convince the kookie goddess to surrender. If she doesn't... McBain gets to add a very special kill marker." Having finished, Enalia turned and nodded to Rita to finish up the briefing in her own style.

"Any questions?" the unconventionally-uniformed first officer looked around at the assemblage. "Excellent. Let's move with a purpose, people. We've got a goddess to outsmart!"

McBain was already in his armor and working out having arrived a solid half hour ahead of time for just that purpose. He had not trained in armor for a while and even though the old training was fresh, he felt the need to make the extra effort. After all he had to look like he knew what he was doing in front of Asa. He did not want their confidence shaken by seeing him make some dumb mistake. He was rappelling down a cliff face when he heard the door open. He ended the program immediately and had the basic obstacle course reload as he went to th door.

Asa greeted the ensign with a smile, "Wow, I hope that's the advance course." The doctor was already wearing their armor as well, and began to jog in place lightly to get the blood flowing. They were already limber from their morning stretching routine, but a little cardio never hurt.

"So what's on tap today, McBain?"

"I suggest we begin with a quick refresher, run the basic course twice. That will remind your muscles memory of the suits enhancements. After that we will run the course with active targets till you are comfortable with the results. Third step as I mentioned was adding non-hostiles to the mix to teach your mind to recognize threats and non-threats." The course was waiting and McBain waved his arm with a slight bow "youth before experience."

Asa gave him a wink and took off. The creek passed without incident, and they cleared the hated hurdles with minimal grazing to the thighs. Opting for caution over speed, Asa climbed the wall taking full advantage of the finger holes, climbed over and used the finger holes to get down as well. With a final sprint the doctor crossed the finish line and turned to face McBain.

McBain had followed just a step behind them noting how well they moved. "I do believe you are in good enough shape to go right back through the course." He laughed as he took two steps backwards "do you feel the need for speed?" The next step he spun and sprinted away toward the ravines on this side of the wall. He had not reversed the course this time, adding a small additional challenge!

Asa followed quickly, easily clearing the ravine and hurdles, feeling more confident with each step. They were closing on McBain when they nearly came to a halt.

Just as he made a jump halfway up the wall it began raining, hard. McBain never missed a beat as he caught hold even in the rain and scrambled up and over the wall without hesitation. He did it like the rain never happened. Unknown to Asa, McBain was berating himself as he had forgot to reset the parameters to basic for the course. The rain had caught him off guard but than he was used to the bad weather training conditions. He would apologize to them when they finished the course. He did not want them to think he was not to be trusted. Although there was no good excuse for being negligent!

Asa shook themself and took a step to test the slipperiness of the ground. Having calibrated their mental parameters to that, they started up the wall. It was less secure feeling than before, but not completely unmanageable. The doctor let memories of playing in the rain come into their mind and embraced the feeling of enjoying the wet.

I hope this suit doesn't short out and fry me, but of course they had planned for that during the design phase. OK Asa, just act like you are playing at home and getting wet on purpose to annoy the elders. You got this. The doctors internal pep talk seemed to be working, and they cleared the wall with ease, even finding a weak smile by the time they were back on solid ground.

The final stretch turned back into the kind of run they enjoyed, and Asa grabbed a stray branch on the way. Upon coming up behind McBain, the doctor used the brandished the branch as an impromptu baton, cheekily running past him and holding it up as if a sign of victory upon finishing.

"What else you got, Ensign?" they asked.

McBain laughed at their antics but once asked about what else he became serious. "I do apologize for this rain, the more advanced programs throw in extreme weather conditions. He reset the program and the rain stopped "I guess the good side is you got to see how little weather affects you in these suits? Okay now you are warmed up and ready, this time with targets. Don't anticipate as the program is random so you might not get the same guards as yesterday. The main thing is to stay focused, completing the course is your ultimate goal. Ignoring the guards will get you 'end game-d' so that is not a winning strategy. Ready?"

“As ancient Earthers used to say, Bring It On Like Donkey Kong,” Asa replied, readying themselves into a runners starting stance.

Nearing the first ravine a remote drone flew into view at head height. It altered course and began racing straight at them! A cover shifted revealing a barrel of some sort of weapon, it was most definitely a threat.

Asa called over their shoulder, “You take low, I’ll take high,” while taking aim at the drone. Asa serpentine while locking their vision on the target and drawing a phaser. With a steady breath, and a steady hand, the doctor fired. The drone whined and crashed in the forest, and Asa jumped over it and the ravine in a single jump.

"Who said I was running the course?" McBain called after them. "You on your own here Doc!"

The hedges began to crackle with electrical current as soon as the drone crashed. They would have to clear the hedge rows or be stunned. In the distance the barking guard dogs could be heard but they were pretty far off if the sound was any indication.

Asa decided to ignore the dogs and keep running. The threat under cover had not appeared yet, and they made mental note of its location and kept going, clearing the hedges with a wide berth of the arc of energy.

The wall was almost the same but a Guard moved in on either side of them trying to catch up and pull them back down. They had a slight lead and the guards were not in powered armor so the advantage was their's'

Dael reached for a hidden knife along the seam to the chest plate and ducked behind a tree, quickly throwing a blade at each guard. They made a wounding shot, not a killing one, but each blade was coated in a powerful anesthetic, so the guards quickly went down. If they had been real, they would have woken with a killer headache and dry mouth, but as it stood, they simply fell.

They climbed the wall in five smooth steps, allowing gravity to handle their fall to the other side with a tuck and roll, and began towards the last ravine.

On the other side of the ravine was a door to a bunker. It was a thick heavy blast door and it was locked. Behind them the guard-dogs were closing in and the sound of booted running feet of the handlers was getting audible! Shoot out here without cover might not be such a good idea?

Their comm unit buzzed, followed by McBain's voice. =^=Right glove is a compartment with lock picks. Right belt front are a couple pouches, a couple smoke grenades and a flare. I suggest a smoke grenade to distract the dogs and give you some cover. Than pick the locks and get inside the bunker. Easy as a walk in the park." Since this was the holodeck he could modify things a bit to help show how useful many common items were.

Lock picks? I never learned to pick an analog lock? What the heck??

"Roger that," Asa replied, throwing a smoke grenade closer to the climbing wall. They began fumbling with the lock pick tool with no success. "Uh, any tips here? Never done this before..."

=^=Say 'open sesemee." McBain closed the link before he laughed. In this basic program the door would click unlocked but they would have to open it with just the muscles they had, with the armor enhancements true, but it was a heavy chore anyway you sliced it. The dogs were yapping and confused by the sulfur smell of the grenade so they had a few minutes. McBain reassured them "once through the door you can catch your breath before going the course again."

"Humans are all saidsts... " Asa grumbled to themself, and tried the handle on the door. The damn thing opened. Not easily, and the diminutive doctor practically bounced off the door in the effort, but they were in.

Asa walked through the empty bunker with phaser drawn to the other side of the long structure and exited, checking the way was clear before proceeding. Once outside they took off towards the finish line.

McBain was there waiting for her, his normal pleasant smile on his face. "So lock picks and grenades should be added to your equipment carried. We will work on picking locks if you like. The grenades though are useful for many purposes. Marking an LZ, marking a target for air support, as well being used for a diversion and cover to escape."

McBain sat down with one smooth folding motion. Looking up at them he tilted his head "so tell me Asa what do you think thus far. Enough of a challenge? Do you feel more confident in the armor. You are certainly moving well in it. Still is there anything you think I need to do to better help you."

"I'm a nerd, McBain. I like to study what I need to do before I attempt it. Do you have any recommended reading or video lessons to prepare me? I will be practicing lock picking in my quarters. If I can navigate around arteries in a Ferengei brain, I'm sure I can get that eventually. And yes, the armour is starting to feel natural. Practice makes perfect I guess. "

"The various levels have increasingly difficult problems. Those are part of the program. So it was my fault to leave the scene on a higher level on the first run but the bunker door was not my doing. I just happen to know many of the cheats the designers put in there. McBain took a PaDD and made several entries. I don't have any locks for you to practice on but these holodeck programs will help with lock picking, disabling electronics and security, methods of evasion, spotting and disabling physical traps, and how to summon an evac with flares and smoke." McBain shrugged "you did ask for training materials. Hopefully we will be together and I can get you through most of the problems." His smile grew "but we can not count on that so best be prepared."

He reset and they were back at the beginning. "Up for another go at the just hostile targets?" McBain's expression became a bit sheepish "I might as well warn you the first three levels are designed for not using all the gadgets in the armor. Somethings are built in and as the program gets harder we use more and more of the armor's assets. Before you go on a mission I will explaining and showing you how to activate all the suits toys. Right now the standard training guide views all the armor's abilities at once is overwhelming." His normal smile returned "you will get to play soon though, never fear."

"Sure sounds like a plan. I have time for one more run today. Should we do this with variable targets instead?"

McBain frowned, "I will leave the decision up to you, if you think you are ready to up the difficulty that much already. One thing I want you to think about before I do though. Can you handle shooting civilians by mistake. I know it is only the holodeck but it will appear real. I have seen very tough people get rattled by 'killing' a kid." McBain made eye contact "what say you Asa?"

Asa took a breath. "I don't think we have the luxury of time here. The Hera will be underway any moment now, and I have to be ready. Lets give it a shot."

McBain smiled at them with an understanding expression. "When the need is great the great stand to." He did some reprogramming and sighed "things move faster at this level. Keep in mind getting through the course is your goal. This program is a test level scenario. Once you move toward the ravine it begins." McBain laughed softly "break a leg Doc."

The ravine was a hundred yards off. The hedges were replaced by foot high chain link fences as if defining yards behind homes. The wall was an office building with windows, four stories high. Explosions were happening at random places and times as a mortar barrage was inbound. People were everywhere, some running, others huddled in groups. A Sniper revealed his presence in a window on the third floor, he was searching the crowd for a target. Drones were flying in just above head height and they were also searching. This was an active war zone!

The doctor threw a smoke grenade and serpentined under a nearby tree, took aim, and shot directly above the sniper, causing the roof o e him to fall, incapacitating him.

They took off at a quick trot a jumped over one of the fences in an easy leap, darting out of sight once landing.

Asa took out the two nearest drones and ran toward the four story building and looking for ingress. They reminded themself it wasnt real as the sound of crying children assaulted their ears.

The building loomed large, but so did the guards in the doors. With a quick draw of the sedative tipped knives, Asa threw the weapons, managing to at least graze each guard. Within a 60 count they were pacified. The doctor entered the building quickly and radioed McBain , "We have any maps for the best way through this thing?"

=^=Use your tricorder to detect guards and traps. Should be on outer right or left forearm. I would say go down the stairs to your left, move through the generator room to deflect their detection. Go out the freight elevator at the rear of the building. However there are various guards and traps whichever method you decide on." There was a civilian engineer/maintenance-person down there but that was fewer non-hostiles than any other route he could see. Force field enclosure traps were a possible threat, but null-energy grenades could take those down. McBain watched them move on, they were a quick learner. They were going to be an asset to the team.

Asa drew their recorder and did a quick scan. There were two guards halfway down the hall, but the doctors slender short frame was an asset and allowed them to duck down the stairs quickly and evade detection. Once at the bottom, the doctor released two fog capsules and ran through the now obscured interior.

Upon reaching the heart of the facility, Asa located and flipped the switch for the communication channel the hostiles were using to further confuse their coordination. They ran to the farthest part of the compound and took the stairs to the first floor.

Upon exiting the stairwell, Asa used their amplified strength to throw a table down the hallway and block the attackers line of sight while they made an exit.

Once cleared of the building, Asa ran towards the finish line, phaser drawn.

McBain was waiting with a wide smile "well done, that Asa is what a blown mission escape might look like. "Well now you have seen about everything. The rest you will need to just get familiar with and work on. Having said that if you ever want to train with me just let me know. As you know word is we are going back on mission soon so time might become an issue." He shrugged "we should have team training sessions though so you get to see how a team synchronizes to be most effective. Those will be scheduled by our Bosses though. So Asa had enough for this session?"

"I think so, I at least know a bit of what I don't know, right ?"

"It is more than that Asa. You know how to move, you have seen some of the types of events you might need to deal with. You have learned a great deal in my opinion. A lot of the next step is however just you getting familiar and proficient with the tools in your suit. You have all that information but if you run into a snag just give me a holler." McBain laughed, "you are going to be just fine Asa. Try not to second guess yourself too much.

As French approached the sickbay, she knew this was a make or break moment. She knew she was fine, but making a doctor understand that was another story all together. So she entered sickbay and announced her presence.

"Hello, is there a doctor in the house?" yelled French so she could be heard.

Alexander was leaning heavily on the cane today as he came out of the back room where he'd been taking inventory. "There is. Can I help you?"

"Yes Doctor, I'm Seregon French. I was told at fleet and reminded once I got here that you needed to check me out, before I can start my duties in the Security Department. Can you squeeze me in your busy schedule?" She asked just a bit sarcastically.

"No, as you can see we're full up." He shot back as he limped to a biobed and tapped it with his cane to indicate she should hop up.

"Sarcasim, good one doc." As she walked over and hopped up on the bed. "Just so you know, my problems were never physical. I can kick butt with the best of em!" Said French

"I can only give what I recieve some days" he replied in kind "Though i would ask you to explain that last comment"

"just saying, I dont really have any physical limitations. I'm as fit as a horse. Or at least thats how I feel." she retorted

"Well that's a positive thing" he answered, noncomittally as he ran a scanner over her body, doing a basic scan whilst a more in depth scan began. "At first glance things look good, no blood pressure or electrolyte issues to be seen."

=^=Chief Medical Officer, report to the port airlock, Deck 10=^=

"Excuse me. My assistant will take over... Asa...?" The feeble physician limped off to his rendezvous.

A small figure came in, with a nervous smile and fidgeting with a medical tricorder.

"Hello, I'm Doctor Asa Dael. I'm reviewing your records now, you seem up to date on all immunizations. I don't see any scans from your early years, and previously surgeries or broken bones?"

"That's good to hear doc. Please send your report to the Captain and I won't bother you any further." with that, Seregon got off the biobed and left as quickly as possible, because she hated visiting the doctors office.

Asa stepped into Medical, their tailbone throbbing from a fall earned during a training session with McBain. While instructive, a little more than their pride took a beating while acclimating to the armor they would be using.

Seeing no one was around, and anxious to complete their on-boarding medical exam, the doctor pulled up the Emergency Medical Hologram.

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," the EMH popped out with automatically as he shimmered into existence.

What is it with these holograms having either no hair or sticky-uppy hair? Someone in programming has weird taste

“Hello, and what should I call you?” they asked.

"I don't have a name. Most just call me Doctor, Doc, hey..." The EMH picked up a nearby tricorder and began checking the calibration. "One of the crew has been trying to help me pick a name, but it's a somewhat personal matter so I've been hesitant. Anyway, what can I help you with?"

“Hello, I’m Asa Dael. Would you mind helping me with this bruise I’ve acquired, and perhaps completing my on-board medical exam? I need to be cleared for duty, and there doesn’t seem to be anyone else around.”

"Yes, of course." Picking up a PaDD, he tapped in the name and checked Asa's file. "And I see why. You're the new Chief Medical Officer. I'd be happy to help." Flashing a charming smile, the British modeled EMH set to work, first healing the bruise with a combined technique of scanning and running a regenerator over the affected area. "It'll still be tender for a day or two, so I'd advise a soak in a hot bath. I believe the captain's wife was wanting to open a hot springs near the arboretum to augment her massage parlor. Perhaps you could inquire with her."

"Right of course, I'll.....do that...I guess I should schedule a meeting for the medical personnel too once I get cleared. Do I have everyone back on board yet?"

"I have no idea. Are we still docked? Last I knew, we were at some station for shore leave and I was having a maintenance check done." Switching to just the tricorder for the physical part, the EMH proceeded with that as efficiently as he could. "I had a nice conversation about homeopathy and the healing benefits of massage and spa treatments with the captain's holographic wife. She's quite the amazing woman. If I were any less of a gentleman, I'd love to work with her more just so I cou..." As soon as he was done scanning, the EMH cut his small talk subroutine short and set the tricorder aside in favor of the PaDD. "Your physical is complete and you've been checked in. Is there anything else I can help with?"

"No, that is all, thank you. Upload report to the Captain and deactivate please."

Chief medical officer....ok. Well, I always was ambitious. Hope I don't screw this up.

Asa went to their new work-station and sent notice to all medical personnel to convene at 1600 hours the next day for general briefing and a "get-to-know-you" session. As soon as that was complete, they began studying the dossier given to them by the Captain to see if they could find any information on Hera.

Goddess my nonexistent rear end. More like some hopped up power-mad technologically superior race that deigns to lord it over us from time to time. There has to be a way to defeat the witch in here somewhere..."

The EMH hummed a bit as he filled out the report on the PaDD and set it aside before deactivating himself.

"Sir there are several ways this could go, but I will not be responsible for a member of the Admiralty being dismissed from Star Fleet. So I have a deal for you which I think we both will be comfortable with." And he produced the PaDD and handed it to the Admiral.

"This is now your property. What I know of your wife's infidelity stays locked away in my mi d. But if you choose to seek a divorce, I'll be called to testify and sir you know I'd have to tell the truth in open court. I don't think you deserve that." Said Alex

The Admiral hung his head pondering what his next step might be. "You have been like a son to me. And you still have your choice of station after the way you ran the department whilst French was convalescing. To be honest I can't believe you are still here." Said the Admiral

"Sir, when you gave me this investigation, I told you I would follow it through no matter where it lead and I did. I'm sorry I found out what I did. But the follow up has to be up to you. If I were to do what I thought they both deserve, you'd be serving at my court Marshall. The best thing for me now is to get as far from this mess as possible. And let you used your vast resources to deal with this situation in your own special Intel type problem solving routine. I don't want to be a part of that." Said Alex stoically

"I understand son. And in light of that, I've made arrangements for you to follow your friend. You leave in the morning headed for your new assignment on the USS Hera where French is the Chief of Security. I knew you two would not be depressed long, you're book ends." Said the Admiral as he stuck out his hand and clasped it together with Alex Sextons. The two men hugged and even kissed each other on the cheek. There was a very special bond between these two. Every since the met fifteen years earlier on an Intel mission. The respect and admiration just grew and grew.

"I'm going to miss you son." Said the older of the two men
"And I you. And believe me, if I thought I could, I'd rid you of this problem. But I'm afraid too many people saw me looking into this for the to be a viable option." Replied Sexton

"I wouldn't think of putting you in the crosshairs like that. You go and get on with your life. Watch your six and tell that play sister of yours I send my love." Said the Admiral

"Aye aye skipper." And he grabbed his padd and was headed for the door. He only looked back once on the shell of a man he once knew. Now, heart broken and hurt by the one woman in this universe who had the power to do so.

"Oh, before I forget, I put a little something special in your bag for your reunion with Frenchie. Enjoy it!" And he waved him off to ports anew!

As Alex Sexton headed for his quarters, he contemplated many things. One of which was how to help his old friend without implicating himself in the process. After all, accidents did happen! But maybe it would not take as drastic an action as that.

03:00 hrs civilian quarters near Fleet HQ.

A dark shadow of a figure lurked in the darkness, the residual traces of a beam in dissipating in the background. Stealthy and nimble, the figure crept and found its target location. With the ease of a seasoned professional, his disengaged all security lockouts. He conducted an infrared scan for heat signatures and found what he was looking for. Bio signs read normal for a man his age. Even though, he had brought with him some adrenalin and defibrillator just in case.

As he closed the distance between himself and his target. He asked himself if he should reconsider. But he knew it was too last for that. So he proceeded with caution and reached his target. The reason for this mission, the Admirals wife would be at her own quarters with the Admiral acting as if everything was ok. She would never know of this late night visit to her lovers house and nor would the Admiral. If things went as he wanted them to. There was no extra security measures as he did not suspect anyone would be on to him, and he has always acted as if he had nothing to hide.

As our dark figure entered his room, he deployed a net. The net would hold the target in place and reduce the chance of him using a weapon or calling for help. The message was to be delivered from a recoding device. As the net tightened, the target began to stir. The intruder took this opportunity to make his presence know by setting on the mans chest, and shushing him until he had his undivided attention.

The intruder pressed play on the device. The picture of his target and the Admirals wife danced to life in front of him. Then the message played for him. One so ominous that his eyes went wide with terror and tears began to fall from his eyes. The message stopped and the intruder asked one question, in a whisper. "Do you understand what most happen now in order to avoid what you just saw?" Asked the intruder in a low voice.

Shaking in his tightly wrapped bedding he responded. "I will disappear, never to have spoken to her again!" He said terrified

"No, you will not leave. You will tell her it was fun while it lasted but you have found someone else. You will tell her not to call you or you will tell her husband of the affair, and you will get on with your life never to bother her again, because if you do, bad bad very bad things will happen to the people you love and then to you, are we understood? " asked the intruder

"Yes, I understand and I will comply." Said the man

The intruder needed to make sure he understood. So he raised the cover near his feet. Found his toes on his right foot and took out his shearing scissors and without so much as a here it comes, snipped off his baby toe. He then wrapped it with a bandage he had prepared earlier. The man did not yell out, he simply flinched and bit down on his lower lip.

"The next time, it won't be a toe. I'll leave this so you can have it reattached. I'm not heartless. But if these instructions are not followed to the letter. Well you know the rest. And don't think your security system can help you find me. It's all been disabled and left and an unrepairable state. I'll leave you now. You toe will be in the freezer and the net will release you when I am ready. Don't move until then, or I might change my mind." The intruder got off of him and headed into his kitchen. His gloved hand opened the freezer and deposited the toe. He left the quarters and was immediately sight to site transferred and the transporter log scrubbed. Mission accomplished.

A week later:
The shuttle approach the USS Hera.

+(comm) USS Hera, this is the shuttle Roga 1 requested docking instructions, over."

"This is the USS Hera. Shuttle Roga1 you're two hours late and we're t-minus 23 from launch. Transmit your clearance codes and you'd better have a good excuse for this," came the voice on the other end.

"The one damn time I'm in traffic control," Paris muttered as she strode toward the flight deck at that efficient martial pace. "Pad eleven, Mr. Magurk."

+comm+ "coordinates have been transmitted. And we are lined up to proceed to docking bay of your choosing." Replied Roga1

"Shuttle Roga1, you are cleared to land at pad eleven." came over the radio.

The landing was a success, and waiting for him as the shuttle touched down was an old-school officer, an anachronism on the flight deck that was a hundred years or so behind the time. Like the spirit of Starfleet past in a minidress.

Alex secures the shuttle and tags his belonging to be beamed to his quarters later. As the shuttle bay doors open, Alex is not sure he is in the right time zone. "Cmdr? Lt Alex Sexton reporting. My apologies for being late, it was a very long trip." And he handed her a PaDD with his orders.

He looked her up and down quizzically as she was dressed in what could only be called a throw back uniform. "Is today throw back Friday or something?" He asked jokingly!

"I asked for a reason, Mr. Sexton, not an apology," Paris snapped as she took the orders and began marching off the flight deck at a military pace, reading as she moved, apparently assuming he was in her wake. "I'm supposed to be finishing a half dozen preflight checklist items and instead, because you apparently cannot tell time, I am having a conversation with you on my flight deck and explaining to you." The buxom blonde stopped in her tracks, turned and asked a simple question. "Mister Sexton, do you know the appropriate onboarding request once greeted by an officer on deck? You are a Starfleet officer, correct? Attended the Academy? Have perhaps come aboard a starship once or twice?"

Alex watched in amazement as his new xo ripped him up one side and down the other. Alex just smiled. “Permission to come aboard Commander?” He said with a chuckle.

"Will wonders never cease, he knows the words. Permission granted," the unusually uniformed executive stepped into his personal space, looming over him slightly, eyes narrowed. "I'm so very glad glad this amuses you so, Mister Sexton. I'm still waiting to hear the reason you are two hours late and showing up at t-minutes twenty minutes to launch." Glancing past him, she called out to the flight crew. "I know it needs maintenance, but the deck has to be cleared before launch. So just drop it into a bay for now."

Refocusing her attention on Alex, the irritated officer made eye contact just long enough for to indicate she hadn't forgotten about him, then the buxom blonde in the old-school uniform spun on her heel to resume marching off the flight deck again. "Still waiting to hear that reason, Mister Sexton..."

Alex tried to wipe the smirk from his face. "Ahh yes, about two days ago, I encountered an anomaly that completely shut down my sensors. Naturally I had to stop and fix the problem, before I could continue my journey. But as luck would have it, yours truly made it shuttle and all in one piece." Offered Sexton as his explanation for being late.

"One would think that in forty-eight hours one might have found the time to send a report," Paris muttered. "As luck would have it. I'll expect to see that report on my desk soon, Mister Sexton. In Starfleet we deal in procedures and results, not just wild stories."

The likely wild story of why the cranky commander was wearing a uniform a hundred years or so out of date was apparently not a topic for discussion at just this moment.

Departing the flight deck and moving into the Hera proper, Paris flipped the PaDD in her hand around to the newly-arrived security personnel. "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."

"Aye aye Commander. I will do my level best. That report will be on your desk in the morning. You guys are very efficient here on the Hera. Impressive. So as the ships first officer do you want to see me now or after the doc and the shrink?" Asked Sexton.

That got him a glance over the shoulder, followed by a frosty reply. “I see why you and French are partners. Yes, Mister Sexton. In your case I think you should most definitely come see me after you have cleared all the rest of those appointments. You and I can have a very long discussion about military etiquette, procedure and discipline.”

Alex had heard enough..."Hold on a minute Commander and no disrespect intended. There was never at any point in this discussion where I did not follow etiquette or procedure. You're moving so fast, it would be hard for most people to keep up with you. Now before we get off on the wrong foot, I've been in the position that you are holding today, and I have to say in my defense did a good job of it. I personally see you as an amazing example of a representative for this ship, but for you to say after five minutes of meeting me that I have a discipline problem, I'm sorry I can not let that stand. So you and I should talk this out, right here and now if you please." and he stood at ease facing her in her out of date uniform an attitude to match.

Those bright blue eyes scanned up and down the officer who had now moved to block her path, who was illustrating her point for her. “Showing up late without filing a report with two days time to do so certainly counts as a breach of military etiquette in my book. I was unaware that you’ve served as first officer of a starship, as few your rank have and it appears that your military record didn’t arrive with the rest of your paperwork, which a Security officer might see as suspicious. But were that the case, that just means you should be well aware of how much additional work you are creating for more people than just myself. Additional work that could have been easily avoided, had you decided to follow protocol.”

Leaning in a bit now, Paris narrowed her eyes. “Now you are making a demand for me to spend part of the eighteen minutes I have left before we launch in which I am supposed to be tending to a myriad number of duties, by demanding that I settle your issue with my perception of your actions and attitude right now? Oh yes, Mister Sexton, I believe we are off on exactly the right foot.”

“So now you can take your pick. You can fall in and we can finish this little chat of ours as we get you to your quarters and situated, letting me get on with helping the 748 people actually doing their jobs to launch this starship right now. Or you can be hauled off to the brig to have your interview with the Captain with a forcefield between you, and you can explain all of this to her instead of me. Take your pick and make your choice, Mister Sexton, because I’m inclined to have you beamed to the brig at this point just for expediency’s sake.”

Alex realized that he was not going to win this one and let it go. "I’ll take door number one. My quarters if you please. The brig never much appealed to me." said Alex also not budging.

“Excellent choice, Mister Sexton. Now if you can see your way to move aside, we can continue.” Little boys playing macho games interested Paris not in the slightest. She’d come from an era of chauvinism and glass ceilings, and had still risen through the ranks on her own merit even then. A modern security officer who deciding to exercise a little power play was laughable to her, and she wondered if he knew just precisely how large a mistake he was making. I hope French isn’t too attached to this one, because if he’s on my nerve this fast, I’m the GOOD cop….

Patiently she waited for the lieutenant to step aside. Because she’d be damned if she was going around him, and she debated that call for a beam out for him as she neither broke eye contact nor did she flinch in the least.

This was obviously her yard. But in time he would show her that he would be a better friend than a foe. But to hell with it, he was about to find his best friend in the universe. This was just a small hiccup on the road to success. There was no way she could know who he was, really. Those records were closed forever at fleet HQ. He just hated starting over as a Lt. when he had been so much more. But that life was well behind him now. As he stepped aside to walk behind his new XO, he considered asking her if they could start again, but she had formed an opinion of him and having been in command himself, he knew showing was better than telling, so he would show her what kind of officer he was. In due time! Best now to be lead...

Stepping to the turbolift, the anachronistic astronaut punched the up button as she eyed the other PaDD she had held onto, clearly trying to keep up with the work she was putting off to work his onboarding. When she spoke, she didn’t look up from her work. “So what’s your passion, Mister Sexton?”

A bit surprised, Alex answered her before the temperature in the turbo lift turned again. "I love many things commander. Music Art, the smell of a Sunday roast. But my passion is the Art of War. I've read most books on the subject and I'm reading T'sun Zu again. Not that you could tell from our first meeting, but I consider myself a Modern Day Samurai of sorts." he said almost regretting it. He asked her a question. "And your passion if you don't mind me asking. Other than this amazing ship of course."

As the turbolift arrived, Paris stepped in, turned and her eyes flickered up from her PaDD to insure that Sexton was aboard. She then refocused on her work as she called out, “Deck two, please. I study Vulcan philosophy and physiognomy, I enjoy cross-country running and investigating how quantum entanglements lend themselves to chronodimensional displacement.”

Spoken with a straight face, she strode out onto Deck two, parking the PaDD on her hip once more. “I chose your quarters on Deck Two because a number of the junior officers are quartered here who might need access to the bridge in a hurry. So best to learn your access ladder and Jeffries tube locations. I’ve assigned your quarters directly opposite the turbolift so that you will have easy access in times of rapid deployment. Do you have any questions, Lieutenant Sexton?” The buxom blonde of another age cocked her head slightly and raised an eyebrow, in what some might consider to be a vague approximation of a Vulcan expression. Because there was no smile on her face, only a passive neutral expression.

"You are a very interesting person Cmdr. Paris and I appreciate your efforts to welcome me in your customary way. Nothing I said or did was designed to draw a wedge between us, I hope you understand that. But like they say, you never get a second chance to make a first impression, so I'm going to do everything I can to prove you wrong about me. Thank you for getting me this far, and I have no questions." replied Alex.

The curvaceous commander made eye contact with the security officer, and offered a perfunctory smile. “We will have that secondary conversation once you’ve completed your onboarding, and we’ll have more time to ‘get a feel’ for one another. I’ve noticed, from time to time, that my easygoing demeanor is mistaken for something else. But we’ll talk about that later. Meanwhile, the Hera launches in fifteen minutes, and I still have a dozen places to be, so if you’ve no further questions?”

The miniskirted anachronism spun on her heel to step over and press the turbolift button. “Welcome to the Hera, Mr. Sexton. Fasten your seatbelt- it’s liable to be a bumpy ride…”

“Now that I can handle. Have a good day Cmdr. I’ll get myself to my duty station right away. No sense letting them take off lite handed and I promise to get medical and my visit with the Captain sorted as quickly as possible, or I could be on limited access forever, and we don't want that." He said being serious this time. As he turned to enter his quarters and have his things beamed over.

And the two of them went on about their business!

Seregon had finished all her prelim meetings and got the good news that she was the Chief of Security on the USS Hera. With that knowledge comes great responsibility. It was time she met her team!

Seregon approached the Security office, entered her code and the door slide open. There were a handful of Day shift personnel in the room. It looked like they were pulling maintenance on a few weapons and some security systems, and there was EVA Armour everywhere. McBain from Intel was doing training it would seem. As they all looked up to who was entering the room, Seregon held up a hand to stop anyone who was about to yell officer on deck! So no one did. She did not want to disturb the training so she found a seat and paid attention. After the training was completed, she introduced herself.

"Good morning. My name is Lt. Seregon French. Please feel free in here to call me Frenchie or LT. But out there they know me as the Chief of Security, so let's not give them a reason to doubt my ability to run our department. I'm fair and I've been around for a while. I can't do this without you. So, McBain can I please see you and Ensign Miller in my office, we have a few things to discuss." And she walked into the Department heads office to await her most knowledgable officers on the subject that she wanted to discuss.

McBain had been training with a security department all morning. With his MACO training he had been sort of lent to security for the day to help set up the training program. It had been touch and go for a short time there at the beginning as the old rivalries never really died. McBain was patient, he was hands on, and he was formidable. Within the first couple hours he had proven he was the alpha-dog. After that the training had gone smoothly and a sort of comradeship was developing by the end of the training session. He had hopped out of his armor and was explaining maintenance to the unit when the Chief walked in.

When she spoke to him he nodded his head as he smoothly came to his feet "Yes Ma'am on my way." He followed her into her office and stood to attention "Good day Lieutenant French and how might I be of service?" Her red hair and strong chin even not knowing her he knew her face. He had honestly not expected to meet her as he suspected she was very busy having just come aboard.

"First of all, my apologies for not meeting you all sooner. I've have had a mountain to climb since I got here, but all that's behind me now. You've heard the saying that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link I'm sure. Well I'm not the kind of girl to steal ideas from anyone, but I'm going to need both of you guys input help and assistance to make sure we maintain the title best security operation in the fleet. And we begin stealing that title right now. So Ensign Miller, if you can brief me on mission prep and how the new Armour is stacking up to the old stuff we used to use. That would be fantastic, and McBain, I know you are intel, so I really value the opinion so shoot!" And she crossed her armed and listened to her Ensign and the Intel Trainers input.

McBain moved to a parade rest stance, but than scratched his head at the temple smiling. "That is quite a bit to put on an old Sergeant." His smile was easy and honest, "I will train with your response team as often as I can but today was the first time I met your team. You have good people and they will shape up fast so you have no need to be overly concerned. The MACO armor now available here is a nice force multiplier so it will help. The Captain has released the newer TR116c battle rifles as well and they are sweet. I would suggest training with the battle rifle be added as soon as they are comfortable in the armor. I am guessing she told you about the hybrid-borg creatures they recently fought?" That should be a safe bet as she was chief of security and would have quite a bit higher clearance then he did. "Which is why the slug thrower battle rifle is being issued."

McBain made eye contact with her sharp green orbs. "I will be glad to answer any questions Lieutenant. I am afraid I can not think of any more to add at this time."

Seregons facial expression said it all. "That was very informative, and please rest easy. I'm not one to stand on ceremony, we are all professionals here, or we would not be on the Hera. Lets see what my security officer has for me." stated Seregon as she waited for Miller to offer his knowledge of the Heras mission and how good security was doing at the moment.

Ensign Chuck Miller looked between Mcbain and his new Chief. "We just received this new MACO armor and Ensign Mcbain being familiar with the armor has offered to train our response team. The team is doing well and I have every confidence we will be ready to go when needed. As to the Hera herself. There have been many upgrades to improve her combat functions. She is much more than she was. I would say the Hera is better armored and armed than a typical Galaxy class." He smiled wide "Frenchie you have a lot of toys to play with." He had used her nickname feeling emboldened. "Security is top people as well, you have a good team. Well trained, skilled, dedicated, and anxious to show what they can do."

French smiled when he used her nick name. He said it has if hed been saying it all his life, like a little brother or something. "Good, we are bonding. Ok, let the rest of the team know, training is paramount as we dont know what our next mission is. But as soon as I know, you guys will know and we will adjust our training to match the mission brief. In the mean time, you two are my eyes and ears. Is there anything else we need to cover?" she asked

Chuck shook his head "nothing here Frenchie unless you want to go over the shift schedules?"

McBain shook his head at how quaint this was becoming. "I have one question Lieutenant. Are you familiar with the MACO armor? If you are will you be joining the training or if not do you wish assistance yourself. I would be willing to train with you alone to get you up to speed if you would prefer tbat." McBain knew many officers who would not wish to be seen as less able than the people they lead.

"That would be greatly appreciated." And she turned to her security officer. "Get me the schedule, and as soon as we leave space dock, we go to two man roving patrols in the ship. You can't be too careful." Said Seregon "ok you guys are dis missed, I need to get something to eat." And she turned and headed form the office.

=^= Doctor Dael to Lieutenant sexton, Lieutenant, do you have time to come to sick bay this afternoon? I would be happy to complete your onboarding physical if so. =^=

Alex stopped in his tracks. “Affirmative Doc. I’m on my way.” And he made a bee line for sickbay.

MedBay was tidy as one would expect, and the doctor all-but-disappeared behind their large desk. The minimal amount of detritus to the desk spoke of a new occupant, and Asa seemed a bit at a loss for where to turn or how to most effectively navigate the space as they rose to greet the newcomer.

“Hello, I’m Doctor Dael, pleased to meet you!,” the doctor greeted the tall man with a cheerful smile, motioning towards a nearby medical station. “I’ve reviewed your records….such as they are. I seem to be missing large portions of your time with StarFleet, which I understand to be classified. For your own safety and security, would you object to a fresh batch of vaccinations for this sector? I’d hate you to get sick over something easily treatable.” The young doctor sounded to be babbling, but once their tricorder was in hand, they took on a professional air, obviously more at home in a medical setting than making small talk.

“I have no objections. There’s just two I won’t take as I have my reasons and Star Fleet is aware. “ and he looked at the list on the pads. Pointed to them and left it at that.

"I understand, those are not vital to our current mission, so I won't make a fuss. I'm sure you understand the risks associated with your choice. I do see some old breaks that have mostly healed over. I would like you to consider an annual bone density supplement. You have no loss of functionality yet, but an ounce of prevention is worth a kilogram of cure, is it not?"

"That's sound reasoning and I have to agree, hit me with your best shot Doc!" And Alex sat back an let the doctor do his thing.

Glad to be of service, Asa bustled about securing the necessary injections and loading into a single shot. After all, there is no reason to cause a patient more discomfort than necessary. Asa was a big believer in proactive health care measures and was glad the crew seemed to respond well to their suggestions.

They placed the injector over Sexton's arm and said, "On the count of 3. 1-2-" and deployed the injection before reaching 3. An old trick to be sure, but still a good one from time to time.

"Feel ok?"

"Never felt better doc. You still got it. Now where's my lollipop?" Alex said jokingly

"Next time," promised the doctor, with a smile on their face. "Now get on out of here, don't you have a galaxy to explore?"

Alex smiled, jumped down off the Biobed and adjusted his tunic. "Thanks Doc." Was all he said as he left the sickbay.

McBain was in this way over his head and he was well aware of it. Arguing with a Vulcan was pointless. They were always logical so irrefutable in the long run. Still he was going in and he needed a weapon, as did others. He would see what Thex thought, she was easy on the eyes but more important he felt she was smart. He needed someone like her right now, someone smart enough to make his idea work. He stopped inside Engineering and asked a passerby where the Chief was. Armed with directions he went to find her. He had an escort as this was engineering and they wanted no one touching something that should not be touched.

McBain saw her and stopped at a polite distance awaiting her to notice him. She had been there, so he felt confident she knew why he was here anyway. He just hoped she had some ideas on how to make this tungsten/rhenium thing work. He knew a weapon made entirely of the material would be too heavy to wield. But maybe a cutting edge would suffice? He remained waiting with a degree of calmness he did not feel inside.

Thex notched the human entering her lair and after helping out her team by sorting out who was going to do what to the shields before waving him over. " Hello there McBain what can I help you with." She said as she headed out of the noisy engine room towards her office.

"I need some help with fabrication and advice of feasibility." He showed her his PaDD with the picture of a few bladed weapons, a gladius shaped short sword, a thick bladed German hunting saber, even an axe. Each had a channel where the cutting edge should be and a wire to be inserted along the edge. Another page was of arrowheads and bullets made of this same material. "I wanted to know if you could fabricate this tungsten/rhenium wire and if you had the means to modify these weapons and ammunition types. "This compound is as close as I could find to the denseness of that adamantine. I am hoping to create some weapons that could penetrate those troops used by Hera."

" Give me enough time and coffee and I can do anything. " The andorian said as she flicked through the padd. " You might be onto something with the bullets. Maybe we could covert a TR-116 to fire them. I doubt even a child of the gods could stand up to a bullet fired by that thing going through it."

"I was not sure about them since they replicate their own ammo. If the base material was that mix it should be possible I would think. A three shot burst with the heavier 18mm slugs might even dent those statues? I can' imagine the Minotaurs or harpies taking hits and keep standing. Not being sure how many there will be, or how close we might be when confronted though I would really like to have the melee weapons. There are ten people among the two away teams. So we should have at least ten modified TR116's. I think two axes, and maybe six of each sword type? I would like twenty arrowheads, and thirty bullets for my pistol, those are the 10mm slugs. Just my wish list." McBain was pleased the engineer was so receptive. "Thanks I will be back, if you need me for anything just holler for me."

McBain had been told when he arrived there was no intelligence Chief but he had heard that someone had recently filled the position. Since he was all signed in now he decided it was time to meet the Boss. He saw someone in the outer offices so he made sure he was heard at the door. He did not want to startle his new boss, that seemed a very bad way to make a good impression! Once past the door he walked over to the Lieutenant and came to attention "Ensign McBain reporting for duty Sir. Would you want to see my transfer orders?"

The man behind the desk had his back to the door. His hands were rapidly moving in a holographic set of controls. Some of the view was obscured, but some of the items looked suspiciously like MACO armor. He turned around, and flashed a brilliant smile at McBain.

"Ahhh! Ensihn MechBayn! Ah'm glad ya came by! Ah was jest gonna call yah down h'yeah. C'mere, have a looksee." He wheeled back from the display, showing that it was, indeed, the schematics for the exact model of MACO armor that the ensign in question had been training others with in the previous days. But there were a few changes added- grav boots, instead of mag boots, so they'd work even on non-ferrous surfaces, and what looked to be nano-cable launchers, with selectable grapplers, barbs, or maglocks. The MACO armor was particularly well-suited to this sort of modification, with intentional hard points seemingly everywhere.

McBain looked over the Chief's selections of equipment. He noted the gravity-boots, he seldom used the mag-locks as he preferred the additional movement conferred by zero-'G'. The additional grapplers meant the Boss must expect EVA or a lot of climbing. That was something he would keep in mind. He liked having the retractable climbing claws in his gloves and boots for climbing himself. He was more inclined to use the armors strength enhancements though as he was stronger than most people. The Chief had not made many weapon selections as yet so he must be waiting till he knew more of the threat they would face before deciding. That was reasonable. McBain had a one shot bunker buster he had not added to his suit because he was not a MACO anymore. He smiled as he wondered if this infiltration gig was truly going to be all that much different than what he was used to.

McBain nodded with approval "the Captain said we were using ballistic weapons rather than phasers. We would be using the TR-116c. I added my heavy pistol but I have a typeII phaser that fits the same holster. What are you thinking about carrying?"

The Intel Chief waved his hand. "Whatevah we have layin' around at th'time. Half tempted t'just carry dud grenades, t'scare 'em off. An' a couple o'knives. Yer th'heavy firepowah, son. Ah'm bettah at cuttin' throats in th'night an' movin' on, when ah'm not convincin' 'em ah'm someone ah'm not."

He had done that before often enough as a sniper. Providing cover and fire support for the team. This time he was just carrying a battle rifle and expected he was going in with the team. Was why he was training security and the Doc? "Ah, Lieutenant, I am not carrying anything heavy that I was aware of? I think maybe you should explain the team make up here. I was under the concept we were all going in? What do you see as my duties here for this infiltration assignment?"

"Oh, we ahh all goin' in, suh. But we'll each have diff'runt duties t'perfoahm. Ah 'spect it's gonna take a lot moah infoahmayshun than we have t'figger out how t'take out this harpy. She's got a his'try of backstabbin', and usin' people that ain't worth a spit t'git her dirty deeds done. We're gonna hafta get below her level t'have a snowball's chance o'keepin' her from exterminatin' most ev'ryone we know, an' ah don't think big guns'll do much more'n let her know where her next target is," Clemens replied, quite seriously. "Ah see you as doin' infil, an' cover fer th'specialists, an' bein' th'Grim Reapuh t'anyone that plans t'stop us in owah duty t'remove her from th'boahd."

McBain shrugged "seems to me it should be the other way around. I should be on point and as the Chief you should be with the specialists gathering the intel? After all that was what I did as a MACO. I was death." McBain did not normally like talking like that but he needed the Chief here to understand who he was. He had been black ops and he was as deadly as anyone he had ever met. Considering the places he had been and who he had taken down, he was a true reaper. "Sir I spent my entire adult life before the Academy learning how to or in the field ending lives. Just felt you should understand who I am Sir."

"Oh, you misundahstahnd me, Ensign. Ah'll be with th'team- unless ah'm not. Mah pahtic'lah skillset makes me th'best man tah sweet and oah fast talk owah way past puhsonnel, if need be. Ah'm countin' on you t'be th'Angel o'Death, like it says on thuh tin. But thuh sit'u'ayshun may call fer slight o'hand, or ov mind, an' those just happen tuh be mah specialty. You keep th'team safe, by whatevuh means you need to, but remembuh- we'll be theah to gathuh intel, oah sabotage, oah make mayhem- oah all of th'above. Ah need you ta be thuh Batman t'mah James Bahnd," the Section Chief explained. "Ah know ya don't take pleasure in what y'do best, but yer part is essentyal.

"Than we should work well together Sir. I am quiet and resourceful but I am not a fast talker. I am not much good at talking my way out of a problem. In fact I tend to get myself in deeper with every word. Now when it comes to sabotage, well I got a lot of practice in making that look like accident." McBain had indeed made several critical hits on people in the Badlands and Tzenkethi that had to look like anything but an assassination. A lot of what I learned in the academy just made me better at getting in and out of places.

"So..." the Chief pondered, "...what kills gods? An' what, praytell, are we gonna do 'bout all the shit they've conjured up over th'centuries? Killin' th'boss is all fine and good, but she's a real bitch- and they tend to lay traps for revenge."

McBain leaned against the wall. "The only known weapons that can even truly damage one of these God-beings is adamantine. It can only be created by them though so it is not like we are going to find it laying around. Now my research has shown tungsten and rhenium combined into a sort of wire is as dense as adamantine. I am on my way to Engineering and Science next to see if we can bond that wire into the edge of a bladed weapon. Sort of like using a diamond bit in a drill. Rhenium is rather rare, tungsten not so much. I am also going to try and make bullets of this material as many of the minions we will be facing will be nearly as tough. Now that is what I am working on."

McBain sighed "now if you happen to have the head of the medusa or the highly toxic poisonous blood from the Lernaean Hydra either of those would be very helpful." McBain laughed softly "although I imagine both would be very dangerous to handle. There was her son Hephaistos who made a golden throne with invisible fetters that trapped her? I doubt we will find that laying around either. You know Lieutenant this Hera has only forgiven one being in any of the information on her. Hercules. She did terrible things to him but in the end, after he completed all her tasks. She welcomed him among the other Gods. His only sin was being the son of Zeus by another woman. She made him slaughter his own children. Once we get in her way there just is no turning back." McBain's expression was dead serious "we go in and we win or the entire Federation might just burn."

"We're of a mind on that. Intel, fuhst, than plannin' with improvisashun baked-in, an' then a blitz, fruhm a main foahse, as th' distractshun, with th'rest ov thuh kitchen sink from all angles." The blue eyed man looked thoughtful. "Ah don' know if'n a wiyah runnin' 'round thuh edge uv a blade'll be shahp 'nuff t'slice 'em, b'cause th'wiyah'll be thinnah than thuh blayde. But what about garrotes, bolos, 'n arruh'hehds, awul made up uv ya McBainium?"

"The stuff will be heavy, which is a reason to just make the cutting edge of the stuff." McBain thought of how the weight might affect a garrote type weapon. "I am guessing as long as the garrote had grips? I am just guessing but if the hide is as tough as it looks I am not sure what you could use for gloves that would resist the wire longer than their skin? Bolos should work against the Harpy's. Arrowheads, the point of crossbow bolts, and bullets I was already planning on. If you are good with a sling I could even ask engineering to make ammo for that. I am not sure how much we will be able to make in the time we have so, now that you mention it we should make a list of the weapons we want."

McBain had another thought, something he was not very familiar with. "Lieutenant do you know much about sonic weapons? I am thinking those statues might be impervious to being hit but sonic weapons have been used against stonewalls since the time of the bible? Those statues might have a weakness?"

"Ah've had some, an' they're pretty effective against stone. But we've gotta be careful- she's tuhned many folks into statues, an' we may yet have a way t'restore 'em. It'd be tragic if'n we missed- sonics're hard ta aim, b'cause th'"beam" isn't visible, and even tho coherent, there's a definite beam spread to 'em." He swung back around to the earlier question- "...and fer th'garroting, have y'self a pair o'gauntlets made outta McBainum chainmail. Maybe even plated cohvuhs, fer th'puhpose o'beatin' th'livin' hell outta someone. Yuh combat ahmuh oughta boot yer strength enough t'pack one helluvah whallop."

"How's th'testin' on th'McBainium goin'?"

Just spoke to engineering before coming here. The stuff is not going to be flexible like for gloves or boots. It is going to be very heavy as well. I will look into making you a garrote though." McBain took a moment before answering about the sonics. "Sir I don't know enough about transporter tech to make a comment really. Transporters lock onto DNA though. So if those people are truly stone, I don't see how you are going to lock on to reanimate them? Even so those statues are a clear danger and stone doesn't cut very easily? I think we need to look into effective weapons against each of Hera's agents. The choice of having and using compared to not having an option seems a mute point. Your team lead though, it is after all your call. I made the suggestion so I did my part." McBain chuckled at that, "and yesSir, I can be a smart-ass."

His brow furrowed a bit, the Chief replied, "Well, if'n it can be drawn out intah a wiyah, it kin be woven by some means- chain-link is made outta completleh-inflexible rings, aftah ahl. An' fer' th'restoahashun, it's a dim hope, but one we hafta factuh into tactics- no smashin' statues, no killin' animals, unless they'ah attackin' ya, oah those unduh yoah protecshun. Keep bein' ah smaht-ass, as long as it's not just t'be a dick, an' we'll get 'long just fine." He smiled at the last. "Ah've gotta git ovah to th'archive room- theah may be some olduh recoahds theah we kin mine fer moah notions on weaponry. Keep up th' good work, Raymond." He gave a quick nod, and headed out.

McBain took one real conclusion from the meeting. Everyone wanted more information. He was thinking since he was intel than he should try to provide that. It was what his job was now if you thought about it. He went to the XO's office but saw her in the corridor. "Excuse me Commander? Might I have a word." He trotted up beside her. "Commander every ship has probes, this is an Intel ship so it probably has more than most. I think you understand where I am going with this. Should we go to your office to continue?"

"We can walk and talk, Mr. McBain. I brought up probes because they are low risk with a high potential yield for information. I think we should equip a few, fire them out there and see if they can gather intelligence for us undetected. Because it's just a hunch, but I'll bet without a lifeforce her hoodoo won't sense them. And we very desperately need to know what we're walking into here."

"My thoughts were along these lines based on the briefing. I was thinking we could send a few class-8 probes to pass through the system from different angles. As a diversion as those would likely be detected. My thoughts are to have them pass through and fly away at warp speed. Thus maybe pulling off some of her fleet to pursue. They have decent range and would likely not be caught in time for any shuttles to recover in time to interfere in what we are doing." McBain took a short breath.

"The other idea is to use class-5 recon probes that have stealth capabilities. These we could use four to get telemetry in the system. They could gather information as well as be used to bounce communications off of to increase comms security." Programming the course of the probes and placing them on station would be tricky but should be doable." McBain had been looking ahead as he went over the idea, thinking as he spoke. Now he looked at Paris "so Commander what do you think?"

"I think interactive planning and active listening aren't your strong suits," Paris muttered. "All right, proceed with the project. Run it past Science, get their input. Run it past Engineering, get their input, then bring it to the Captain and present your plan to get her input. It's a good idea, McBain. I hope it works." Paris had been striding the decks with the maverick former Marine, both of them moving at the same martial pace, both having fallen in step.

"You need any resources approvals, get them across my desk," Paris directed. "Are we green, Mr. McBain?"

"Science, Engineering, and the Captain. Plus get requisition clearances from you." McBain was clearly baffled by the whole committee type procedure but hey this was the fleet and none of them could chew gum and walk at the same time. "I will check with LT Sonak right away." McBain smiled wondering how that would go? They had just had quite a debate in front of everyone. This should be interesting.

Noting the look on the experienced Ensign's face, the first officer paused. "You look confused, Ensign. Is there something in that which was unclear or you didn't hear?" Her voice dropped and the last bit she muttered, "Aside from your immediate dismissal of my theory?"

He had been dismissed so her question caught him in thought. "No Ma'am, all clear, I am confident I heard you loud and clear. Once I know what is required I will send the requisition to you immediately." McBain full well understood the need to be swift in this endeavor as they were hurtling into encounter with Hera even as they spoke. He smiled "You can count on me Commander, I have always given all I had to every task." He was unclear only as to what the others might add to this project, but that was not something to talk about. He would clear the other departments as quickly as possible to get the job done. It was going to take a lot of effort to prepare the probes, develop and load the flight plans for each, not to mention the preflight checks of each sensor package. He was used to working alone but he began to realize he would need help to get this task done in a reasonable time frame. He had that weapon enhancement to work on as well. He already had that project started though. he realized the Commander was still watching him. "Sorry Commander, just thinking, is there anything else?"

"Not unless you have any further questions. If you do, don't hesitate to reach out to me. I suspect that this might be a pretty crucial component of our strategy, and could very well turn the tables on this op. So we're counting on good results. You've proven you're a hardworking dedicated officer, and I have nothing but confidence in you and the science and engineering teams on this one." It might have sounded hokey coming from someone else, but somehow the ancient astronaut in the archaic uniform managed to sell it as earnest.

"I do understand how crucial information is Commander Paris. I will do everything I can to see it is done as best as is possible." McBain had only known Rita a few days but he liked her. He would not let her down. Often it was personal loyalty that made a person go the extra mile. Sure the Galaxy might be at stake but that was too big, too impersonal to really feel. Earning the respect of one person though, that was something easy to understand. That was a goal achievable.

“I know you will give it your all, Ensign. And for what it’s worth…” Paris paused, eyes perhaps a bit sad, yet still hopeful. “I do have hope that we can resolve this with a minimum of bloodshed. But I also recognize that sometimes violence must be opposed by violence. You are a soldier, Mr. McBain. I recognize that war may be the only answer, but I can still work toward peace. I respect your perspective on this, and I hope we don’t have to rely upon your skills in that arena.”

“But if we do, again, I have considerable faith in you to get the job done and bring the team home, Ensign,” Paris nodded, the gravity of the situation clearly evident on her face.

McBain stopped and made eye contact "I want you to understand something about me Commander. I am as you say a warrior. I am that person who is always preparing to find the most expedient way to conclude in a favorable way a violent situation. I am not a war-monger. Having seen many times the results of violence on the innocent. No one hates violence more than I do." His eyes became almost feral, "it is in me though to be the dog that removes the fox from the henhouse." The look vanished as soon as it appeared, "I still mourn the broken eggs. I never take violent action lightly Ma'am."

The face of the first officer softened as he spoke. “I’m very glad to hear that, Mr. McBain. On that note, I’ll be assigning Lieutenant Sexton to your away team. He does consider himself a modern-day samurai and devotes himself, and I quote, to the ‘Art of War’. Clearly he’s suited for your mission in this instance, but I will be very interested in reading your mission summary.” Paris was trying to get across her point without spelling it out and undermining a superior officer to the infiltration expert.

"No worries Commander, I have been on the point of the spear everywhere I have been assigned. I am sure LT Sexton will be a good leader and able team-mate. I am sure anyone who adheres to the bushido code will be a great addition to accomplish this mission." McBain knew the small team dynamics seldom allowed time for rank to matter much except for deciding on what action to take and when. Since LT Clemens was the team leader anyone else's rank would not matter all that much in the field.

"Excellent. Carry on, Mister McBain," Paris peeled off apparently to step into a Jeffries tube, leaving the infiltration specialist contemplating probes and meetings.

McBain stopped and remembered something he had meant to mention. "Yes Ma'am. Oh and by the way, congratulations on your marriage. I have heard of star crossed lovers before but you and LT Sonak sure take the cake on that! Best wishes to you and your fellow Commander." He suddenly realized the person he had been arguing with for the most part was a Vulcan named Sonak! The XO's husband and the person he needed to speak to next. He shook his head, maybe someday he would learn to keep his mouth shut!

“Thank you McBain. He’s an excellent scientist, and used to dealing with emotional folks, so I have confidence that while your mission goals may differ, the dedication to the mission is the same. At least that hasn’t changed in a hundred years or so…” Paris grinned at that realization.

He was about to say if she loved the guy enough to marry him, he had to be pretty solid. He for once refrained as it was not his place. She was his superior officer and that would sound like he was sucking up. Even worse she might see such a statement in a bad light. He simply nodded and went on his way. Anyway he could chat after the mission, if he survived. If any of them did?

Everyone was busy now that the mission was known. Every department had a dozen tasks to perform and McBain had a few more. He had asked the XO about using probes and she had sent him to Science. So he was in Science. He saw the Vulcan from the briefing, Paris' husband and the person she had said to speak with. He walked over to the Vulcan and smiled "I want your opinion Sir. The XO, Commander Paris sent me to you. I was thinking of the idea presented to use probes. My thoughts were to send in two or three class-8 with transponder signatures of patrol class ships. Maybe even a program to show signs of life. Those would pass through the system and be a decoy. You see we might learn something about their fleet's reaction time to intercept a threat? Maybe even draw away a few ships chasing the high speed probes."

McBain decided to push on before he was shut down. "The second step would be to use four class-5 probes to make an actual recon of the system. As well as assist in communication security once we enter the system. They have stealth technology so they should be undetected." McBain made eye contact, his own had a quality of mirth. He was thinking of the hot XO and this guy. Talk about opposites attracting each other! "So do you think the plan has merit, Sir?"

The Vulcan took a second to obviously make several quick computations and permutations in his head before replying with an even tone.

"Your approach is quite logical, Ensign. Gathering data is the very first step in Starfleet's Rules of Engagement and most important in our present situation. Taking into account the aggressiveness of our adversary, your decoys should in all probability ellicit an immediate response. Engineering can certainly install transponders as you suggest and also modify the warp signature accordingly. Using one of our transporter organic test tubes in it's payload, we could create the organic reading you propose to make the deception all the more convincing."

He played his thin fingers on the console next to him to activate the listing of the Hera's probe complement and select the holographic schematics of those selected by McBain plus one more.

"For the actual reconnaissance, I would suggest class VII probes instead of the class V. They too have stealthy properties, but more importantly, they work with the best passive sensors we currently have. Their probing will therefore remain undetectable."

He made a pause and a few other calculations before adding another suggestion.

"Since like the class V they are also low warp capable, you could install a magnetic clamp on the class VIII to have each piggy-back one high warp decoy probe and dropped inconspicuously during the fly-by."

He completed the suggested modifications on the display and showed the finished product and the computer simulation of the whole idea to the young man.

"Does this meet your requirements, Ensign?"

McBain listened while the Lieutenant replied, the slow methodical answer allowed him time to think about each part of the answer. Now he was seeing how adding Engineering would be useful as they could add in the needed equipment quicker than he could himself. They probably would be better at it as well. He had used the class-5 before which was why he had thought of them but the class-7 was newer and Sonak was right, it had better tech to remain undetectable. Piggy-backing the slower stealth probes he would not have thought of. He had been planning on suggesting a shuttle launch of the class-5, which was what he had done in the past. The piggy back was a better idea and less chance of being detected. So he had seen the wisdom of Commander Paris' orders, so maybe a committee was not such a bad idea.

"Yes Sir, that sounds like it covers all aspects.Would you be interested in helping with the project yourself Sir?" McBain felt the help might well be useful as the Science officer had already made him see how he might enhance the success of the endeavor.

"I come to serve," the Vulcan replied with the traditional formulation.

Then he looked at the schematics for a few seconds.

"I could try to enhance the sensory capabilities of the probe by narrowing their targeting scanners to what you might prefer to look for. I do not think you would need to measure the geomagnetic field of the planet as much as you would wish to better locate the specific energy source of this entity, for example. I could also program the probe's transmitters to send us encrypted compressed blips, thus making them... and us... less likely to be noticed."

His grey eyes then locked with those of Mc Bain.

"However, this is your project, Ensign. I will do my best to comply to what you see best for this critical endeavor. Knowledge is our first, best weapon.Your efforts in this might very well mean the difference between success and failure."

McBain smiled, "it was brought up at the meeting but I guess it would be under the Intelligence department to ramrod an information gathering endeavor. Where would you want the class-7 probes set up to make adjustments?" He made eye contact "I was thinking the shuttle bay? We could all work together that way. You with the sensor package, Engineering with the transponder and mag-locks, I could program the flight plans as well. That way any problems we could discuss as they came up."

The Vulcan nodded.

"And we will have the flight personnel on hand to help. A logical choice, Mister McBain. Let us proceed."

"I think I can cover that. I spent three years training to be a pilot and about a year in a fighter. My nave's are solid as any pilot who has to find his mother ship in the blackness of space." McBain figured he had flight covered,he had learned to plot courses when he was just a kid after all. "I will contact you as soon as I get everything set up?" He did not want to waste the Lieutenant's time as he was sure he was busy with his own ideas.

"Affirmative," simply answered the Vulcan and his customary deadpan way.

It had been only a few short hours since Melanie Dox boarded the U.S.S Hera and was greeted by her new First Officer, Lt. Commander Rita Paris, and the young and newly minted Lieutenant Junior Grade was preparing to meet with the Captain of the enormous, Nebula-Class Starship. She didn't take long to settle into her crew quarters, as her few bags had already been delivered to the room so she reviewed the information on the PaDD that Lt. Commander Paris had given her for orientation and made arrangements to meet with the Captain. Melanie stood in the turbolift that felt as if it were truly living up to the "turbo" part of its name and bringing her to her appointment at what seemed like warp speed.

The turbolift doors opened and Dox found herself looking straight across a short hall to the Captain's Ready room. To her left, was the hustle and bustle of the bridge itself. She felt as if her heart had skipped a beat at the sight of it, only imagining what it was to REALLY be on the bridge of a Starship after spending 6 years stuck on lonely Starbases piloting runabouts and shuttles. Immediately, she noticed that the Captain's chair was empty, meaning that the Captain must be in the ready room, waiting for her. In her hands, the Junior Grade Lieutenant still clutched the PaDD she was given by Lt. Commander Paris looking for all the world like a girl on her first day of school.

While her meeting with the First Officer ended well, it took an unusual and unexpectedly stressful path for the young officer to get there and she swallowed slightly not knowing what to expect. Taking a breath and slightly straightening the top of her uniform, she gently tapped on the control pad outside the Ready Room door, hearing the familiar chirp from within.

"Come in," Enalia called out, expecting this to be yet another new arrival. Bringing up the list of who she'd already seen on her terminal, she got ready to check off another transfer's first meeting with her and to make sure she could put a name to a face. As the door opened and revealed the shorter woman in red, she thought she did look familiar at least. "Lieutenant... Melanie Dox, right? Please, have a seat. Care for a drink? Cocoa? Tea? Ale? Water?"

"Thank you, Captain." Nox quickly took the open seat in front of her, crossing her arms and sitting up straight. "And no thank you, I'm fine."

"Suit yourself. You might need a drink by the time you're done in here though." Enalia reached out for a PaDD. "Orders?"

"Yes, Captain." Dox handed the PaDD she was given from the First Officer upon arriving

Glancing over the PaDD, Enalia had to click at it several times before she found the woman's orders so she could sign off on them. "Next time have them brought up before handing them to me." Handing the PaDD back, she clicked her desk terminal off. "So... You're our new flight controller. What's the biggest thing you've flown?"

"I grew up and learned to fly on an Anares-class freighter. Since joining Starfleet, mostly Runabouts and long range shuttle crafts." Nox replied.

Enalia stared at the young woman for a while before replying. "Well, I suppose you've got to graduate sometime. As soon as you're cleared, I want you on bridge duty. Get with Ensign Gonadie to train on the Hera's holographic manual controls. She's over three point three metric tonnes of mass but she can dance like a ship a tenth her size so before you fly her in combat you'll need some time in a sim."

Dox sat up just a little bit higher in her chair upon hearing the words "bridge duty" but she contained her excitement at the prospect. "Yes, Captain. Thank you for this opportunity."

"You're welcome for the opportunity. What you do with it is up to you. There are a lot of good pilots on this ship and you'll be tutored and watched by some of the best in the fleet. If you survive long enough you'll make something of yourself." Enalia decided to shift gears at that point. "So what are your goals? Got any hopes and dreams for while you're aboard?"

After her meeting with the First Officer, Dox knew better then to try and not answer honestly. "Making something of myself is... It's very important to me, Captain." She smiled ever so slightly. "Especially if that something can be a part of a bigger something."

"Vague, but honest. I like you." Enalia smiled a bit herself. "We're definitely part of something bigger. No one will ever know about it if we do our jobs right, but saving the galaxy is definitely on our job descriptions."

Saving the Galaxy was a statement Dox found more than a little vague itself, but also more than a little exciting. "Thank you again, Captain. I hope not to let you... or myself... Down."

"I'm sure you won't," Enalia replied. "Do you have any questions for me?"

The Captains comment that nobody would know about it if they did their jobs right partially answered one of the questions running around in the back of Dox's mind. Her Runabouts docked with the Hera at a private space station. Her transfer orders were unusually vague. The ship wasn't the same stark white she was used to. Dox's suspected that it wasn't the kind of question where a direct answer was possible, but she decided to ask it. "The Hera... Our missions... This is going to be different then the standard exploration of space, isn't it?"

"The last time we scanned something for exploration, it was to pretend like we were a normal ship while investigating another ship that was taken over by neural parasites." Enalia chuckled softly at the memory. "Yeah we don't explore. We go in and handle issues that other ships can't."

Taken aback slightly by both the gravity of the Captains words and the scope of the Hera's mission, Dox took a brief moment then spoke again. "Then I'm sure I'll have to work that much harder to help us be there when we need to be, Captain. Thank you."

"Thank you for being here. We need good pilots if we're to survive." Enalia nodded once more. "If there's nothing else, again, welcome aboard. Dismissed."

"Yes, Captain." Dox took the cue and exited the ready room and crossed back to the turbo lift. The doors hissed open as she glanced over to the bridge and to the helm.

And she smiled.

After a meeting with the Captain, Melanie Dox made her way down to the main sickbay of the starship she found herself newly assigned to, the U.S.S. Hera. She was required to be checked out by the ships Chief Medical Officer.

Anxious to be cleared to fly, Melanie walked briskly as the doors to sickbay hissed open. Upon spotting the first visible officer with a blue uniform, she introduced herself. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox, reporting for my physical as ordered."

The fair skinned doctor approached with a welcoming smile. “Hello Lieutenant Dox, I’m Doctor Asa Dael, please call me Asa.” They quickly pulled up pertinent medical records on their PaDD . “Well, it looks like you just had one these. Just a quick scan or two and I’ll have you out the door.”

Asa quickly scanned their fellow new crew memeber and completed a few reflex tests. The officer’s baseline had not changed from her last physical and the doctor saw no reason for any concern. “Everything looks to be in order here. Any questions for me?”

"No, ma'am. I'm just eager to get a clean bill of health so I can officially report for duty." The slighlty excited pilot responded. "Thank you "

"My pleasure, and please, call me Asa, or Doctor, or if you need an honorific Myx or sir please. I take no offense mind, I know most people haven't met a genderless person before. Happy to serve with you, I'll file this right away."

Melanie pursed her lips ever so slightly, feeling a twinge of embarrassment and making yet another mistake immediately upon meeting her fellow crew members, but quickly smiled deciding that simply moving forward was the best course. "Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate it ."

With a nod, Melanie exited sickbay, leaving the doctor to get back to work, happy that the overall experience went well. Heading towards the nearest turbolift, she checked the PaDD with her orders she had been given by the First Officer and confirmed her third and final check in before she could begin in ernest with her first ever assignment on a Starship.

All she had to do was meet with the ships councilor. And it was completely possible that she was dreading this interaction more than any other so far.

=^= Doctor Dael to Lt. Comander Paris- Commander, when you have a moment could you please stop by sick bay? I’d like to discuss something with you. =^=

=^= I can be there in fifteen minutes- that soon enough, Doc? =^=

=^= Yes! I mean, yes, of course, no rush... =^=


The lieutenant commander walked in to find the shorter person bent over a chair, fussing with the different controls to try to find a way to adjust it’s height to suit their frame, muttering to themself, “How is it tilted to one side? What the heck, I’m going to fall out of this thing and right on my face in front of the……Lieutenant Commander! Oh! Hi! Won’t you please be seated?” the doctor popped up, clearly surprised by the other's entrance.

Stepping over to inspect the chair, the leggy lieutenant commander eyed the mechanism. "They used to label all of the levers so you knew what was adjusting which. Seems these days they just expect everyone to know which lever or knob controls which attitude of the chair just because 'it's been that way forever', so 'everybody' knows. Unless of course you've never encountered it. Have a seat, Doc, and we'll figure this out together, right?" Paris smiled that winning smile of hers that reminded you just how pretty she could be when she tried.

Asa took a seat, their ears unwillingly turning red. They had not meant the first mate to think they called them over a chair, and they hated how easily they tended to blush.

"Um, sorry about this. The former chief medical officer seemed to have some...unique...settings I am navigating around. Really though, don't worry about it, I'm sure I'll get it soon..."

If it was possible for the doctor to disappear into space, they gladly would have done so in that moment.

"Okay, so this looks like dorsal, this looks like ventral, so this must be horizon... there we go!" Fiddling with the chair's settings with a body in it, Paris got the knack. Taking the physician's soft hand in her own, Paris guided their hands to the controls. "Dorsal..." unlocking the lever allowed the chair to tilt forward and back. "Ventral..." Unlocking it enabled the chair to swivel. "Horizon..." Unlocking the lever, the pesky angle Asa had accidentally set the chair to was banished, in favor of a level seat.

"Like flying a shuttlecraft," Paris emerged from behind the diminutive doctor, dusting off her hands before perching her rounded rear on their desk next to them. "At least, back when they were boxes with nacelles. So, what can I do for you, Chief? Congratulations on the big promotion, by the way. Between us, I much prefer a doctor who will come running when needed than one who will get there in their own time..."

Asa's blush spread from their ears to their face as they muttered thanks to Paris for saving them from the wicked, wicked chair. After pouring both parties a glass of water, Asa placed one in front of Rita.

"Thank you, I'm honored to serve. And, um, it's actually more about what I can do for you. I understand you were recently wed, congratulations on that. It's an incredible testament to your commitment to one another that you found each other."

The pretty pilot's eyes alighted and she grasped her hands together and squidged in an extremely girly fashion, and actually let out a tiny squeal. "He came for me... he traveled through time and crossed universes to find me. Have you ever in your life heard something so romantic?"

"I can honestly say I have not."

"Oh, and get this- he missed me, but he doesn't suffer from the emotional emptiness. Instead it was just a series of tasks to perform and succeed in order to work his way back to me. So two years, and his heart did not ache, he did not pine for longing." The short-haired tomboy cut shook her head. "He came here two years ahead of me and started working out how to get to me here. Except.... he's a Vulcan. A kolinahr, no less. Purged of all emotion, so they say. So I would feel horrrribly guilty over the anguish that would have caused. Except.... he's a Vulcan."

Asa squirmed slightly in their chair, and stopped abruptly when they realized what they were doing. "I think he would tell you guilt is illogical. Vulcans have very different cerebral structures and Sonak is above average, even for a Vulcan."

"Pffft!" Paris waved Asa off. "You're telling me. But thank you... I'm very happy he's here and he's very happy to be here. His home planet is intact here, he returned one of their great minds to them and he really likes it here. So it's good and... I'm happy now. Got my guy, stars be my destiny and I'm even doing my old job with my old rank. Life is wonderful- thanks for asking, Doc."

The doctor was visibly stalling at this point. After fidgeting with their hands a bit, they took a deep breath and said in a rush, "I wanted to make sure you knew about all available birth control methods to you. Not that you don't know about birth control, I don't mean to imply you are not knowledgeable, it's just that there have been advancements in the last 100 years, and you have both been through so much, and I feel like it's my duty? To check? That you know your choices?"

Their voice had started off a bit high in pitch, but by the time they were presenting a PaDD with some information on it to the curvy woman, the doctor's voice was practically at glass breaking range.

"Why Doctor, are you giving me the contraceptives chat?" Paris asked, leaning in a bit closer to the frazzled physician.

"Um, yes? If that's ok? Just because I want you both to be happy, or logical, or whatever term you use to indicate actualized goals? " Asa was resolutely staring at the desk now, afraid to make eye contact. "Plus there is the matter of your biological instability..."

"Iron based biologies and copper based biologies are not entirely compatible I have been led to understand," Paris joked. "According to my husband... wow, that's the first time I ever tried that out. It feel weird. My husband... mmmno." Starting over, Paris changed her choice. "According to Sonak, during some pillow talk no less, I have better odds of reproducing with a rose, as it shares more common DNA with me than he does."

"And yet it does happen, from time to time. You have both had your biologicals altered by your trip between universes. Perhaps in ways you do not yet realize. I would like to conduct some tests to determine the extent of the changes. As well as to research your... transporter allergy? In the meantime, just in case, maybe consider birth control? If you want?"

The shyness in Dael's voice was a source of supreme embarrassment to them. The biology of sex and romance made sense of course, but discussing it, especially with a senior officer, still felt so.....squicky. Not one to let something as trifling as mortal levels of social anxiety stop them from discharging their duty, Dael continued , "And if you wish to procreate we can of course explore what options we have."

The first officer's eyes narrowed a bit, then she pursed her lips, stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk, to smooth her skirt out as she sat down in the chair opposite the nervous neurologist. Cocking her head slightly to the side, with a piper's smile, she asked, "Myx Dael, do I intimidate you?"

"Only a lot ma'am. I've been entrusted with a huge responsibility, and I intend to earn the trust placed in me. As first officer, I know you are the eyes and ears of everything going on in the ship, and you are just so MUCH. You have this amazing height, enviable curves, epic love story, self possessed manner, penetrating stare, and I'm just.....not that. I barely know what I'm doing, I'm trying to help, but by asking about your PROCREATING for goodness sake, as if you don't know what you are doing, but maybe you don't, and I'm babbling. I'm babbling like an idiot and it's not helping, and I'm just going to shut up forever now." Asa barely took a breath until the end of their tirade, at which point they slumped back in their newly adjusted chair.

The first officer sat quietly for the anxiety-fueled diatribe with a neutral expression on her face. And when the young doctor collapsed into their chair, the nervous energy spent, the buxom bombshell leaned forward. "Let’s review a little, Myx Dael, so that it might lend some perspective and maybe make you feel a bit better about all of this. Okay?”

"Um, yes ma'am," Asa responded quietly.

“I am First Officer, and I am eyes and ears on this starship. You are all my responsibility, and I take that very seriously. So when I am brining you onboard, I am studying, testing, probing and analyzing you. I am determining who you are, so that I can report to the captain who’s in her crew and whom can be relied upon for what.” Those eyebrows raised a little as she looked out from under them. “I knew Lysander was on his way out. The man should have retired, and frankly being on a starship was too much for him, forget about the Hera, where we so boldly go.”

“I was the one who recommended you for this position, Doctor. Because yes, you are young and you lack field experience. You are a little awkward at times and you are often unsure of yourself. I know that you see all of those as negatives, but I don’t. What I do see is a lot of heart. Courage, integrity, drive and determination. Compassion, honor, honesty. Those are hallmarks of a great officer, and I’ve seen a few in my day.” Paris paused to give the doctor a chance to digest that information.

“Thank you ma’am. I will do my best to continue to earn the title of Chief Medical Officer. I’m sorry for panicking…I guess I got a bit overwhelmed. I confess, discussing reproduction or romance isn’t a strong suit of mine, but I am working on that. Comes from a religious upbringing I guess…and awkward, well, it's good you think that is a positive, because it's not likely to change anytime soon,” the doctor concluded with a slightly forced laugh, but a genuine smile.

“Be yourself, Doc. That’s all you need to do. Listen to your heart, do what’s right, and everything else will sort itself out. Experience and confidence will come in time. Now, as far as me and my reproductive possibilities go,” the leggy lieutenant commander sat back a bit. “You are concerned for us because we are extradimensional explorers, and our physiologies may be different. The translation between universes may have changed us in ways we cannot see. Hell, I traveled 127 years and across a dimension to be reassembled by a Section 31 experimental transporter.”

“Your predecessor didn’t seem very concerned. The fact that you have some concerns speaks volumes to me. We will submit to whatever tests you feel are necessary. I haven’t been on birth control in years, but if you think it is needed, then I trust your judgment. If you want to run tests that involve me jumping rope naked, I’m going to assume there is a very good reason for it, and I’ll oblige you. Because I trust that you genuinely have my best interests at heart. Does that make discussing the topic a little less awkward for you?” The smile that the blonde bombshell offered was a simple one, but heartfelt. She liked the awkward young doctor, and she wanted them to find their sea legs.

The tension finally began to leave Asa’s shoulders. The lieutenant commander spoke plainly, and Asa had always appreciated that. They also valued the words of kindness…those had been few and far between growing up. Among El-Auriens, Asa would be counted as little more than a child, and it was hard to remember at times that other species would see them as fully adult without question.

“I think we can pass on the jump ropes for now, ma’am. But unless you are willing to roll the dice on an unplanned pregnancy, I do feel that birth control is the right choice. We can do a simple injection before you leave today, just to be sure. If you change your mind, it’s only an injection away to reverse it. With you permission, I would like to ask the ship to share with me your bio-data since you arrived on board. I will as Sonak for the same permission for himself. It will give me a baseline for how you both “beat” so to speak. From there, I plan to ask Sonak to help me research why you and transporters just don’t get along. I have no idea what the answer is there, but I know one exists. And together, we will find a way to sussing it out. Sound ok?”

“I’d… like that,” Paris replied through somewhat gritted teeth that made for a bit of a rictus grin, and for the first time Asa could see a little anxiety evident in the conventionally confident commander. Apparently the mention of transporter studies made her that nervous, but she began addressing the delicate doctor’s points in an attempt to hide it. “Contraceptive away- I most definitely do not want children right now, and neither does Sonak. We just… well, I just got here, and we’re ready to go exploring again, not settle down and have kids. Maybe someday, but not any time soon.”

“As for Sonak, he is a firm believer in scientific study, so I am certain that won’t be an issue. He will likely be glad to tackle the problem with more advanced technological capabilities. And while I would appreciate it if you didn’t put me on a transporter pad unless you absolutely must, I will assist in your investigation however possible.” The forehead under those bangs had broken out in a sweat, Dael noticed, and while her tone was casual the first officer’s hands were gripping the arms of the chair rather tightly. A blind man could see the woman was frightened by even the concept of it, but working hard to retain a cool exterior.

Moving to pick up an injector, the doctor said in a calm, soothing voice, “Lieutenant Commander, it would make absolutely no sense to put you in danger of another transporter mishap by using one all willy-nilly on you. Until we know what is causing your body to refuse to integrate in the manner expected with regularity, I am putting it on record that you are to have as limited interaction with transporters as necessary. Shuttle transport, doctors’ orders,” they said with a smile.

"Thanks, Doc. I think there might be one in my very brief medical record if the last CMO remembered to put it in there," the perennial transporter accident joked.

The doctor knelt down next to Rita, and gently took her hand. “And even then, your mental health is important too. Until you are ready, I support your choice to save transporters for only the dire circumstances. After all, McCoy hated the things, and he had a fabulous career. No reason you can’t too. Soft pinch,” the final words were spoken as the injector deployed the contraceptive into Rita’s system.

Asa released Rita’s hand, and moved to take the seat next to her, instead of across the table, “Everything feel ok?”. It was obvious Dael meant more than just the injection site, but didn’t want to embarrass the senior officer by asking her if she was emotionally ok. Starfleet bedside manner 101…..let your patient pretend to be tough if they wanted.

"A little piece of me."

"Every time, it takes a little piece of me that I don't get back. I can feel that I'm not all there, not all of me, whenever it puts me back together again," Rita Paris was speaking very quietly, hands gripping the chair with white-knuckled force, her legs flexed against the floor. "They say, they tell you that you can't feel it because it breaks down your brain too fast, so there's no synaptic function without the missing molecules that have already turned to energy, and the brain doesn't function until it's reassembled."

"Like you just don't exist for those few seconds."

"But you do. I do. And I can feel it converting me every time and it's like being eaten by a million ants and it's it..." Paris looked around, as if realizing the rest of the world was there again. A small, rueful smile crossed her lips, and she mopped the sweat from her brow with the back of her uniform's gold sleeve, avoiding the gold braids at the cuffs. Side-eying the ship's surgeon, Rita concentrated on prying her hands loose from the arms of the chair.

"I, ah, guess I keep that pretty bottled up, but... I'm scared, Doc. The last accident turned out okay for me, but what if next time it's something different? This is the third universe I've been to, Dael. I like it here, being solid matter." The hard-luck heroine locked eyes with the El-Aurian. "If you can figure it out, I'd really appreciate it. Just being near them now, it's like I can feel them. It makes me jump when they go off..." the supercentenarian space explorer shook her head. "Boy, uncork that bottle and it doesn't want to go back in."

"Lieutenant Commander, I'm a believer in healing the whole person, the whole body and mind. You have been through a hell of an ordeal. Your well-being is my primary concern. I want to know your concerns, your perceptions, and if you have had enough, just say the word. " The doctors voice was soft and musical as they continued.

"Are you sleeping ok? Any flashbacks? Please, let me help...even if it's just a friendly ear, I'm here "

Asa smiled a soft smile and waited for Rita to gather her thoughts. They wanted to secure the XO in this reality, but was not willing to rush or push the other past their comfort zone.

"No, no bad dreams lately... honestly, I was starting to more and more, but," Paris blushed a little, then took a deep breath and pressed on. "Sonak's telepathic, When we sleep, we touch, and when we touch, we share. Not a lot- he doesn't let me go wandering around too much in his mind because I literally might get lost. But feeling him, knowing he is there, literally a part of me... no. No nightmares lately, but I can keep a log of them when they occur if you like."

"Flashbacks... I used to have flashbacks all the time when I signed on to the Exeter, probably the first six months. They were the same design, you see. So a lot of the ship looked the same, so I would turn into some conduit and I'd remember spending three weeks there because it was my new favorite spot." Paris paused at that, then shook her head. "But the Hera, she looks nothing like the old Constitution-Class. So no, no flashbacks, Doc."

"As for an ear, I appreciate, I really do, but... see, I try not to unpack all of this because it doesn't help. It doesn't change what transporters occasionally do to me, but it does get me all worked up and twitchy. I can't do my job all worked up and twitchy, so I mostly try not to think about it and avoid transporters. If you can figure it out, bully, but... if you could leave me out of it? Please? I can't, I can't think about that and not have it really really stick with me."

The transporter-phobic traveler offered a wan smile. "So work on it if you like, Doc. Work with Sonak with my blessing. Get to know him- he is genuinely the greatest mind I have ever encountered and a good man. You make progress, find results, I am interested in hearing them. For now-"

Standing, the relic of a bygone age expertly smoothed out her skirt in a practiced maneuver, then squared her shoulders. Picking the PaDD up off the chair, the classic commander brought her chin up and practically came to attention. Then she relaxed and grinned at the petite physician. Gone was the neurotic navigator, replaced by the familiar friendly first officer.

“Of course ma’am, my primary concern is your health, not my curiosity. If things change and you are experiencing flashbacks or nightmares return, please let me know. You aren’t in this alone, you know that, I’m just reminding you. And things come to us at the strangest times, so if you change your mind about that ear, my door is always open.”

"Thank you, Doctor. The same for me- my door is always open, and your problems are my problems," Paris replied, much more her usual collected self.

The young doctor was honored to have been entrusted with confidence from the confident commander, and knew what a sacrifice it had been for her to let some of the old memories back in. They stood as well to walk with the leggy lieutenant commander to the entrance of Sick Bay, keeping an open smile on their face. Once they saw Paris out, they turned to pull data from the ship…there was work to be done.

The vastness and silence of deep space was often brilliant with its decorations and spectacles that Senior Chief Duran-Yeager Syal smiled as she reminded herself that she was out here only to deliver a consignment of supplies to her new command, the USS Hera which was presently trucking along at warp four point five and it was in the same area of space as she, herself was. She shifted her attention to the back where her rather precious cargo waited before a rather evil grin crossed her face.

Duran-Yeager tapped the display before her several times as the system computerized the expected intercept course for her. The Bajoran female smiled as she proceeded to hail the USS Hera, to alert them that she was inbound. "Hailing USS Hera, this is Runabout Delta One One Sixteen, from the USS Fe'garren, I'm hauling a consignment of supplies and equipment for you in addition to your new Chief of the Boat, may I have permission to land in your hangar bay?" the small female slowly smiled.

Communication and coordination between the ships had occurred a few times by now as the details of the rendezvous were worked out. Delta 1-1-16 was right on time where she was supposed to be. "Delta one one sixteen, you are green for touchdown. Follow the vector to the flight deck, you are cleared for pad seven."

"One one sixteen? Is that what people name their shuttles these days? That seems weirdly generic..." the flight deck chief muttered as she exited traffic control, picking up a PaDD as she moved into action. The crew were getting the idea, if you left a tablet laying around and the chatty chief came through, she was liable to carry it off and hand it to someone else.

Now the first officer tapped out the activation sequence she had down to a science now, flushing the PaDD and preprogramming it to imprint when she handed it off. Smoothing out her gold mod mini dress, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris ran her fingers through her tomboy short hair as she marched across the flight deck at that brisk military pace of hers. The unconventionally uniformed officer was headed for lucky Pad 7 to greet the new Chief of the Boat. Who was somehow the liaison between the enlisted and the officers? At least according to the computer.

Time to find out what Starfleet had sent the Hera this time.

Meanwhile, Duran-Yeager nodded her head. "Confirmed. I have the beacon," she commented. "I have ten tons of gear aboard, all marked for various departments so I'll drop the crate when I land, this bird has to head back home as soon as she's done."

"Copy that," came the response, within moments the Hera grew from a small speck of dust on the astral winds to a full-sized Starship and within moments, Duran-Yeager had landed the runabout in the hanger, the space before her was truly huge as the majority of deck four was used by this single space as the small Bajoran quickly found her landing location before guiding her Runabout to her landing site without any issues whatsoever.

Duran-Yeager sighed before she stepped off of the runabout, she glanced around at the gigantic space that was large enough for three entire decks, she smiled as she took a moment to brush the hair from her eyes as she took in the scene before her. "Now this... is a sight to see." before she sighed softly while she slung her pack over her back, she turned to find herself face to face with a woman who was wearing a uniform from the middle of the last century, she had no idea whatsoever of who this person was and the look on her face said as much. "Hello. Permission to come aboard?" she inquired of the taller female before her.

The smile never faltered, but the left eyebrow hitched slightly. "I'll assume that you're Senior Chief Petty Officer Syal Duran-Yeager. Permission granted, Chief. Welcome to the Hera- I'm Rita Paris, the first officer." The anachronism on the flight deck extended her hand in greeting.

"Its good to meet you, Rita." Duran-Yeager gently shook the other woman's hand in the human style as she shook it when there was a loud banging sound as the Runabout dropped the large crate it had been hauling before the runabout began powering up, clearly intending to depart right away.

The runabout looked odd without its cargo section as it slowly moved forward and out of the hanger, before heading back into space, there was a sudden bright flash before the runabout shot forward, clearly entering warp as she began her homeward course.

Meanwhile, Duran-Yeager gently adjusted the pack on her back. "Yes. I'm Senior Chief Petty Officer Syal Duran-Yeager," she commented with a soft grin. "For if I am not, then someone owes me a damned good explanation."

"Thought we'd established that, but all right. Is there a cargo manifest for that or is that just your personal goods?" the first officer asked of the crate. The runabout being in such a hurry to depart was a little suspicious, but the sensors had cleared the vessel and the cargo long before they'd approached the Hera, so there was no need for paranoia.

Of course, sometimes a little paranoia could do you some good.

Duran-Yeager regarded the other woman in silence for a moment, while she realized her attempt at humor didn't go anywhere. The small Bajoran produced a PADD as if from nowhere. "Oh, right," she commented. "Its a general consignment of supplies for various departments, some rifles, and grenades for security, some kits and materials for engineering, mostly the average stuff that tends to come last before deployment." the shorter-then-average Bajoran female added. "Why, were you waiting for something that was never delivered?" Duran-Yeager asked a moment later.

The blonde's eyes narrowed. Where did that PaDD come from, and the fact that the 'senior chief' hadn't handed her the manifest was definitely not abating those suspicions. "All right, Chief, let's get you onboard, shall we?" With that, the commander pivoted on her high-heeled explorer's boot that no one in Starfleet had worn in a good dozen decades, and began marching fore, apparently assuming that the enlisted personnel would know to keep up.

Duran-Yeager raised an eyebrow as her question wasn't answered. "I'll contact my husband and let him and our children know that I have arrived safely. After I settle in of course." the short Bajoran female then slowly smiled. "Or does our mission not permit it?" she inquired.

"That would be a conversation for the captain, and after you've finished onboarding." Paris handed over the PaDD she had been resting on her hip as her suspicions grew. Immediately wanting to use the comm array, noted. "Here's your welcome aboard package, including your quarter's 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. Once you are on active duty you will have access to the comms. Whether you can phone home, as I said, would be the Captain's prerogative."

As the two women walked, the martial stride covered distance well... which was handy given the size of the Hera's flight deck. Although the chief didn't seem to fall in step with Paris' martial stride, which was a significant oddity to the old-school officer.

Duran-Yeager nodded. "Sounds good to me," she answered in an upbeat tone of voice. Duran-Yeager followed the taller female officer through the hanger. "It shouldn't take me too long to settle in. I didn't bring much with me." she shouldn't put off her curiosity any longer. "Is that the uniform for the Hera?" she inquired with a measure of trepidation.

"Just for the senior enlisted," Paris replied as they covered ground across the flight deck.

Duran-Yeager raised an eyebrow. "I feel I should protest. I don't think I have the figure for it," she replied to the taller female's statement which she had not been expecting.

As the duo approached the pressure doors leading off the flight deck and into the Hera proper, Paris tapped the antiquated Starfleet emblem on her left breast. “Security, this is Lieutenant Commander Paris. Activate a level 3 forcefield over the crate on the flight deck, pad 7. I want Security and Science to clear it as I have suspicions about it and its cargo. Flight Control, recall that runabout that just lit out of here like its nacelles were on fire. If they won't return come about and pursue on my orders. I’d like a good long look at it and a discussion with the pilot. Gentlemen,” Paris paused by the two security personnel standing guard at the hatch. “Phasers out and set to heavy stun. Take the Senior Chief into custody. If she makes anything remotely resembling a fast move, stun her. You’ll be escorting us both to Sickbay.”

The unconventionally uniformed officer then continued marching into the Hera, clearly expecting the entourage to keep up.

Duran-Yeager glanced left and then right at the two guards who followed her and the ships executive officer, she knew that she could either cooperate or end up in a cell and while she had done nothing wrong, that would not help matters either. But rather than protest, she held her silence and followed.

Dead silence. No note of surprise, no protest, no attempt at reason. Just sizing up the Security boys and coming along. Paris hoped whatever was in the cargo bay wasn't deadly, and that the forcefield she’d thrown up would hold. Arriving at the turbolift, Paris tabbed the down button and eyed the woman with the nose wrinkles- the Bajorans, the ones parked next to the stable wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant, where the Dominion had come from. At least, she was reasonably sure. The universe had changed a lot in a century and change, and it was a lot to remember.

When the turbolift arrived, Paris stepped in first, turning to face outward as the others stepped in as well. "Deck 12, please," she asked as she tapped her comm badge.

"Paris to Telvan. I think you'll want to join me in Sickbay, Captain. We may have a situation."

Duran-Yeager raised an eyebrow as she regarded the Executive officer. "Yeah, we definitely have a situation brewing," she commented as if nothing was wrong.

As they exited the turbolift on Deck 12, the quartet made their way into Sickbay, the subdued chief between the gold-clad security personnel and the gold-clad commander. Knowing the captain, she had likely beaten them down here somehow, or she'd be hot on their heels. At any rate, right now Paris needed a doctor... maybe two.

"Computer, please alert Doctor Dael that we require their services and a quarantine room and activate the emergency medical hologram. Thank you."

"Please state the nature of the emergency," the EMH popped out with automatically as the British hologram shimmered into existence.

Dael came into Sick Bay at a trot, obviously having run at least part of the way. "Lieutenant Commander, how can I help?"

The spotted captain was close behind those that entered sickbay, having sensed the urgency in her first officer's voice. Seeing the woman with her, she had an idea of what the issue was. Her new chief of the boat was three days late and if Rita had suspected anything...

Rather than asking for a situation report, she just stepped over to one of the sickbay consoles and tapped in the orders to erect a level ten quarantine force field around both sickbay itself and the woman in question. As the fields snapped in place, she turned back to her first officer. "I assume that since Chief Duran-Yeager finally arrived here, and we're all here in sickbay, you have suspicions about them. I'd like to know why her runabout was late as well but we'll get to that once you explain the situation."

The old-school first officer took a deep breath. She might be wrong, and if there was, there would be hell to pay. But Rita Paris trusted her gut and every instinct she had said this was the right answer. As she spoke, she began pacing, as Paris was wont to do.

"When the Chief onboarded she didn't ID herself before requesting permission to come aboard. When I introduced myself as Rita Paris, the first officer, she called me 'Rita' right there on the flight deck. A real chief would rather eat glass than screw up a simple onboarding on the flight deck in front of the enlisted, and I don't care how senior a chief you are, unless you order them so they are never going to address an officer by their first name, again, on duty on deck in front of the enlisted. That's a terrible example to set."

The girl anachronism continued, hands moving as she spoke, working her way through the sequence of events. "Then the runabout drops this huge cargo box and literally could not get away fast enough. If they haven't turned around we should currently be in pursuit, FYI ma’am. So that made me suspicious.”

“When I asked for a cargo manifest, she literally stared at me like I had two heads. Then she pulled this PaDD out of nowhere and lists off a few things, then puts the PaDD away. Not hand it to me to inspect, just offer me a few highlights and stash it again, somewhere. Then she wanted to use the comm array to call her family... on the top secret ship on the top secret mission. Which, again... it was just a few too many things not right, ma'am. Maybe chiefs are much more lax these days, but a senior chief? No way.”

"Boys, relieve the senior chief of her bag, if you will..." Paris ordered. Which was when it all went sideways.

Duran slowly smiled before she reverted to a gelatinous state, suddenly she lashed out at everyone present with tendrils, only to have them all smack into the containment field before she completely reverted back to a full gelatinous state, she then began seeking a path out of the trap that she found herself in.

A few moments went by as the changeling attempted and failed to find a way out before she decided the ghost was up. She then suddenly reformed into a Founder. "Hello.. " she greeted everyone before her.

"Wow... uh... what, ah, what race is this...?" Paris asked, bewildered by the spectacle of a shapeshifter.

"Gr-gr-greetings founder," Asa replied, "Before anyone gets injured, may I ask who you are and to please stop?".

The Founder regarded Paris. "Amusing," she responded, while she regarded the tall female before her.

"Well, that simplifies things a little." Enalia wasn't happy about there being a Founder onboard but considering Vaemyn's presence... Or recent lack thereof... It wasn't a surprise. "So what brings you to the Hera? Last I checked, we had nothing to do with the Dominion and the Vorta stationed here was free to live his own life."

"To tell you the truth Captain. I had never intended you or your crew any harm. I was... simply curious." the Founder paused. "I have been out in space alone for a long time, since the end of our war with you and I wanted to see if you still harbored hostile feelings towards the Dominion." she paused. "I confess, I was not expecting the welcoming committee." She spoke slowly and clearly. "However, I do wish to return home, back to the Dominion."

"Where's the real Senior Chief Yeager?" Paris asked with an edge in her voice.

The Founder smiled. "Oh, you mean that handsome Bajoran female I impersonated... Oh, she's alive. I did not kill her if that's what you mean." she paused a moment. "She is still on the Runabout that departed from here. The pilot is an Orion slaver." the Founder shifted its attention to the trill female.

With a nod to the Captain, Paris turned to bounce off the quarantine forcefield. "Ah, I should go make sure we catch that runabout ma'am if you could...?"

Nodding to her first officer, Enalia turned back to the sickbay console to pop a hole in the quarantine field for Rita so she could turn the ship around and get that runabout. "Do what needs to be done to get it. And toss that slaver in our dankest brig cell."

“Aye aye, captain,” Paris replied with a curt nod before bolting out of Sickbay at a dead run. If the new Chief of the Boat was on that runabout, there was no way it was getting away from the Hera. Slavers held a special place in the captain’s heart, and woe betide that kidnapper when the captain got hold of him.

Turning back to the changeling, Enalia addressed the unknown element in the room. "As for you... We have no hostilities towards the Dominion or the Founders, but as you're on one of the most classified Intel ships in the fleet, you'll understand why I have to detain you for later questioning. Doctor, if you would be so kind as to acquire a stasis container?"

Asa quickly moved to a storage closet at the rear of sickbay and located a cube, approximately half a meter on each side. While the changeling's view was obscured by the storage closet, they loosened their phaser in its holder and set the stun setting to 5- the best-known setting for disabling a founder if needed. Doctor Dael returned to the main room and placed the cube in front of the not-Yeager and said, “This should be large enough, correct?”

"It should be far bigger than needed. EMH, we'll have you verify that they're inside and seal it." Turning back to the console, Enalia adjusted the security forcefield to encompass the container and the EMH as well as the Founder. "Hop in..."

The Founder regarded Enalia in silence for a moment before she did as she was bid, it was better than causing more issues, she allowed herself to revert to a gelatinous state and she proceeded to enter the stasis container.

Once the Changeling was inside, the EMH secured the lid and sealed it, setting the stasis container on and nodding to the assembled crew. "All secure."

Asa began immediately scanning everyone, checking for injuries, and also any slightly anomalous readings. As soon as they concluded no one was in mortal peril, they turned to the crew and said, "Blood samples, now, please. Doctor, would you please be so kind as to start with the security crew. Sleeves up everyone!"

The EMH grabbed a kit and started taking blood samples, testing each of the crew one at a time. The security guards tested fine, then Asa, then the Captain. "That just leaves Commander Paris."

Enalia's expression hardened as she considered this. "Then transfer to her location and get a blood sample from her immediately. No explanation or excuses. Also, have security run through the whole ship and that cargo with low-level phaser sweeps known to disrupt changelings." With a nod the EMH shimmered out of existence, presumably to carry out Enalia's orders.





Post-credits scene

"Are we within range to engage the tractor beam?" Lieutenant Commander Paris called from the command seat as the pursuit neared its conclusion. Which was when a being shimmered into existence next to her, and Paris was out of the chair like a shot. She relaxed when she recognized the EMH, but was keeping one eye on him and one eye n the main viewer. "Ah, little busy here, Doctor..."

"No worries, won't take a moment, just need to test your blood, make sure you're not a changeling or carrying some of them on you," the photonic physician explained glibly.

"Wait, are they contagious? I shook its hand!" Paris looked at her right hand in horror as the being of light and forcefields and replicated materials casually took a blood sample. Analyzing it as he waved the tricorder over the excitable executive officer, he frowned.

"Nooo, seems you're clear, Lieutenant Commander. Ah well, pity. Would've been exciting if you were a changeling too, wouldn't it?"

Even in pursuit of a runaway vessel, all eyes briefly turned to the EMH.

"So yeeeeeah, I'll go report the good news, roight," the British hologram nodded, smiling nervously before he shimmered out of existence.

There were a few seconds of silence on the bridge, then Paris pointed dramatically toward the viewer. "Tell me you have that runabout, Mister C'hiraud. The captain wants that ship, and by gum, she'll have it!"

Senior Chief Petty Officer Duran-Yeager Syal was lying on the biobe, unconscious after being rescued from the Runabout in which she had been kidnapped by the Orion slaver who had tormented her by telling her that she would make a magnificent sex slave for some nameless crime lord somewhere. Also that she would make this Orion a lot of money in the process. As she passed out, she heard a female scream before her last thought was, 'oh, wait..'

Duran-Yeager had no idea of what had taken place, the efforts to free her nor the efforts to capture those who intended her harm. Someone gently administered a hypo to her neck as the Bajoran female slowly began to wake up. Duran-Yeager was instantly disoriented before she slowly opened her eyes, she looked alright and her uniform didn't feel like it had been removed or even touched, as she suddenly recalled that she was wearing her uniform pants rather than the skirt, she had been considering it but she decided to go with the pants instead.

She let out a soft sigh. "You guys had better be Starfleet, because if you ain't.." she trailed off as she quickly opened her eyes. Instantly she realized three things; the first was that she was safe, the second was that she was really not in any shape for anything, and the third was that this was indeed a Federation starship. "Where am I?" she croaked. "What's happening?"

"Easy, Senior Chief," came a voice that was soon followed by a walking anachronism. The gold minidress uniform looked to be out of the Smithsonian, a hundred and thirty years behind the times. Black knee boots that almost no one wore anymore with heels no less clad her feet. But the chief knew Starfleet history, and there were inaccuracies. The tights had been replaced by black leggings. There was a unique comm badge over the starburst old-school Starfleet emblem on her prodigious bosom. While there was still the wavy gold braid with a broken braid that would indicate a lieutenant commander back in those days, on the low angled collar there were two solid pips and one black pip.

If they were trying to convince her she'd time traveled they should have put more work into their research. And the set, which looked like a very modern fully stocked sickbay.

The woman herself was tall- but to be fair, Syal was laying down. A blonde with a tomboy haircut, she was a rather buxom bombshell in form and figure- the chief would bet this one had never had kids- and when she smiled, she seemed to light up the room a bit.

"Doc said you'd likely be a little disoriented when you came to, so take your time, you're safe. Yes, we are Starfleet, yes, this is the USS Hera- I think you've been trying to reach us? I'm Rita Paris, the first officer." With that, the improbable officer walked over slowly to offer her hand, her other hand in plain sight as she moved in cautiously. No sense in spooking the kidnap victim waking up in a strange place with strangers.

Duran-Yeager paused as she slowly sat up. "Thank you, Commander. For the rescue I mean." she paused as she gently shook the other woman's hand in the human style. "I wish we could have met under better circumstances sir," she added in a soft tone. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"We're Starfleet," the old-school officer said simply as she stepped back a bit, so as not to crowd the Chief. Spreading her hands as she spoke, she shrugged a bit, that smile turning a bit sheepish. "We got lucky... the criminals who had shanghaied you were a little sloppy and overconfident, and we figured out their ruse before they had gotten too far. According to Doc Dael, they had you in a portable stasis unit, and they drugged you too, which would explain how they got your runabout up and running. Any idea how they got you in there?"

"I wish I knew, to be honest. I have a great many questions myself, sir." Duran-Yeager croaked before she coughed to clear her throat. "I was supposed to be hitching a ride to get to the base on time, the supplies I was carrying was for Starbase 23, mostly a dozen or so food replicators." Duran-Yeager frowned ever so softly.

“We have a cargo container your impersonator was trying to smuggle home- I wonder if Security will find that lost cargo in there. We’ll have Hera Security coordinate with Starbase 23 security to see what we can piece together,” Paris nodded, offering what solace she could, given the circumstances.

“According to the Doc, you might be a little fuzzy for a few hours, but they didn’t want to get you all bolstered up on stims to wake you given what you’ve been through. Although there is no evidence of assault, thankfully. It seems the changeling… shapeshifter… Founder?” The officer in the gold mod minidress shook her head, seemingly a bit bewildered by the concept. “Honestly, I’m a little vague on that part myself. But apparently, they kept the Orion slaver they were partnered with at bay until they were delivered to the Hera. And we caught up with the runabout as soon as we figured it out and captured your doppelganger, so there was no time for… well.” Paris left that part unspoken, because they both knew what might have been, and dwelling on it would not help the Chief whatsoever.

“The slaver is in the brig, on that note, if you would like to have a little chat with him. In fact, he is in, and I quote, ‘our dankest bridge cell’. Since we don’t have one of those I just tossed him in a cell and dropped the temperature to 15 degrees after I slugged him in the jaw," Paris shook her hand a bit, the pain a reminder that she should not hit grown men in the jaw when she was angry with them. "That should make it seem pretty dank to him. I suspect he isn’t going to enjoy his interrogation, of which I am sure the Captain would be happy to let you participate. Small comfort given what you’ve been through, but we can’t fix what happened- all we can do is move forward, aye?” Internally, Paris was kicking herself for not bringing the Counselor in on this. But she didn’t want to spook the woman with too many people and too much stimulus at once.

“So that’s where we are and how we got here. Not exactly the onboarding you expected, Chief, but you’re here now. Think you are up for a stroll, or would you prefer to rest a bit first?” The first officer asked accommodatingly.

Duran regarded the larger woman in the strange uniform but she wasn't about to comment on it, she knew that each ship had its own dress code and the like as she listened to what Commander Paris was telling her. "With all due respect Commander, I want nothing to do with any of these guys. I'll let others who are more qualified to myself to handle it. Though I'd like to know what they have to say on the subject." she paused as she slowly shifted her position on the bed.

Duran-Yeager owed this crew a debt of gratitude, especially the person in front of her. "Yeah, moving forward is probably the best thing I can do at this point... But this is one tale I won't be sharing with my children," she added in a gentle tone.

"Yeah, let's go for a stroll." the small female commented before she gently slid off of the bed and onto her own two feet. "Nope, this is one onboarding I'll remember forever, sir," she added with a smile.

"Mmmm, a little tip, Chief. Don't call the Captain 'sir'. It's protocol and personally, I always think it's funny when I get sir'd, but it's a hot button for her. So you don't whack that hornet's nest," Paris stood by to help if the senior enlisted needed it, but respected the smaller woman's space. Crowding people when you were 185cm in heels was something reserved for effect. Grabbing a PaDD off the next biobed, Paris expertly flipped it around to orient the tablet. Tapping at the PaDD to update the ship's surgeon, Paris still seemed to be capable of making small talk.

"So why the Hera, Chief? You're a career fleeter, and we're not exactly a conventional duty choice," the old-school Starfleet officer asked as she moved in next to the chief, easing through the massive sickbay. Finishing her task, the curvaceous commander parked the PaDD on her hip like it belonged there.

"I asked for an unusual duty assignment off of the Starbase I was serving on. I wanted to go back out into the field." Duran-Yeager answered as she regarded the taller female near her. "I knew that I wasn't going to be able to join my husband on his assignment. The Fe'garren is simply too far away at present," she explained evenly. "The Hera was a surprise to me, I didn't get much warning of the assignment."

"Well, for what it's worth, you're a surprise to us too, Chief. Usually isn't your billet on deep exploration vessels and starbases? Again, we're an odd choice. And the Hera was a surprise to you?" Paris' brow furrowed, and she brought her hand up to scratch her chin in thought as they walked. "Then you got kidnapped and nearly hauled off into slavery. It really looks like someone set you up, Chief. But who would have reason? Cui bono? Who profits?"

Duran-Yeager regarded the larger female in silence for a moment as she considered it, she really didn't like the picture that was coming to mind. "Yeah," she said quietly. "I was hoping to join my husband on his command but I was told no and then assigned here." she paused as she frowned. "My assignment came from the personnel officer on Starbase twenty-three." she nodded. "The Fe'garren is Century class and she was doing a deep space exploration assignment." as the shorter female frowned, she ran a finger over her jawline, clearly in thought. "I don't get it, it doesn't add up," she said it in a way that indicated she was either confused or seeing far too many enemies.

"We'll inform Starfleet Intelligence in our reports, and they'll start investigating it on their end. Although I suspect the Captain will likely want to start an investigation of her own on our end. She takes it personally when things like this happen to her crew. So be prepared for a conversation about that when you meet her, maybe organize your thoughts a bit. Because she's quite likely to ask." Having reached one of the connecting corridors between labs and wards, Paris paused.

"All right Chief, you're an old salt who's been on deck since you were old enough to sign on. And you just woken up from being kidnapped. I don't want to insult you by offering to take you to your quarters to get a shower and center yourself, if you want to go directly to the captain to report in. So, your call, Chief." Paris waited patiently for the answer. She didn't want to drive the woman, but she was a 19-year veteran. No one was better equipped to decide what she was up for than the Chief herself.

"No insult was taken, Commander," Duran-Yeager answered with a nod. "But I'd welcome a chance to settle in and have a shower." as she smiled at the taller female. "I'll need to replicate some new clothing as my bag was lost, it seems." she didn't seem too bothered by the fact. "All it had in it was clothing." she paused. "But if I may. Answer me one question... Why does the Captain not like to be called sir? and what of you?"

"What of me?" Paris raised her left eyebrow a bit, a somehow Vulcan expression despite her half-smile.

"How do you prefer to be addressed?" Duran-Yeager inquired. "Most senior officers I've interacted with seem to be all different, some by name, some by last name and others by rank," she added.

"Well, if you're just in conversation, ma'am is fine by me," the easygoing executive explained. "Lieutenant, Lieutenant Commander or Commander are all proper and I'll answer to them. First Officer is what I call the position, and I'll answer to that too. As I said, Sir doesn't faze me, and it's still a proper address, it's just ridiculous to call me that. But I don't bother to correct. As for the Captain? I honestly couldn't tell you why. But I saw a new crewman call her 'sir' and he got quite the browbeating. So whatever the reason, feel free to investigate it or even ask her. Me, I called her ma'am from the minute I hit the deck here, and it's always ma'am or Captain for me."

Stepping over to catch the turbolift, Paris held it for the chief.

Duran-Yeager followed the larger woman into the turbolift as she processed what she was being told. "Okay ma'am," she answered. "I'll look into the matter first before I ask the skipper about it," she added with a gentle smile.

"As you like, chief. Deck 9, please," Paris called to the ship's computer. "How about yourself? I've got to admit, Senior Chief Duran-Yeager is a mouthful. Since you've not corrected me, I'm assuming 'Chief' works for you?"

"Chief works fine for me ma'am." she paused. "I'll answer to Syal or Duran-Yeager if it’s an informal chat." she regarded the other woman with a smile before she breathed out and then breathed back in again, a sign that she was still rattled and uneasy.

The turbolift arrived at its destination, and the first officer stepped out onto Deck 9, the enlisted deck. While there were junior officer's quarters in the aft, the officer's mess and stellar cartography to name a few locales of Deck 9, it was primarily home to the enlisted who crewed the ship. As they stepped out into bustling activity, Paris walked at a measured pace. The chief was still shaken, but Paris had concocted a plan.

"So we've got the changeling in custody," Paris began, in a louder tone than was needed. "The slaver is in the brig giving up his entire ring of cohorts, and I believe you even captured some stolen Federation property in the process. All in all, a very successful undercover assignment, Senior Chief. Well done, well done."

The buxom blonde bombshell was a terrible liar, and her voice cracked when she said 'undercover assignment'. But it didn't matter. The enlisted, notorious for gossip, immediately began spreading the rumor. While very few knew the truth, scuttlebutt was the fastest way for news to travel, and from the mouth of the highly recognizable First Officer made it gospel. It wouldn’t do to have the Chief’s authority undermined by the enlisted knowing she had been kidnapped and rescued, so Paris concocted a cover story on the fly, doing her best to chart a better course for the senior enlisted.

"Thank you, commander. I do what I can." Duran-Yeager wasn't a hundred percent sure of what was going on but she wasn't about to argue or contradict the Commander as she followed along behind the larger woman.

Stopping at the midline, the line that ran fore to aft, stem to stern on any vessel, the gold-clad commander indicated the quarters to the fore. "You get the big bucks so, you get the risks and get the view, Chief." Paris indicated the ID panel next to the quarters which read SCPO DURAN-YEAGER, S. Flipping the tablet about like she spent all of her time using or delivering them, the first officer handed over that PaDD she seemed so at home with from its resting place on her hip, which had a very unfair wasp waist above it.

"Here's your welcome aboard package, including your quarter's 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." Paris paused, considering. When she spoke again, her voice was low and conspiratorial. "If you'd like to call home and let your family know you arrived safely, I could ask permission from the Captain...?"

It was an enormous presumption on Paris' part. She'd had time to read the Senior Chief's service jacket, and she knew from the imposter about the husband and children the Bajoran officer had left behind. There was every possibility that it might offend the career military non-commissioned officer. But after what she'd been through, Rita was willing to bet the chance to reconnect with her loved ones, even for just a few minutes, would do a world of good for the new Chief of the Boat.

Duran-Yeager gently accepted the PADD. "Thank you for all your efforts ma'am," she commented. "I'd love to chat with family, even if it’s only for a few minutes,"

"You're welcome, Chief. Nobody gets left behind and we all get to go home, right?" With a nod and a curt smile, the gold-clad commander about-faced and marched away.

Duran-Yeager looked up at the other woman with a smile, she held the PADD in her left hand which she kept at her side as she watched Paris turn and departed. Duran-Yeager proceeded to enter her new home and once the door was closed behind her.

Duran-Yeager looked around the expansive size of her new home. She smiled before the small framed female went over to the sofa before she sat down and she began to read the PADD as she had a goal to accomplish. This ship and her crew still needed her.

This was definitely a story she would not be sharing with her children any time soon.

The doctor was a bit nervous about their next appointment. Having already met Rita, Asa could only imagine the kind of man that force of nature would marry. Reports of Sonak's aptitude at the Vulcan Science Academy and Starfleet also spoke to a keen mind that the El-Aurian looked forward to working with. They hoped he would consent to aiding in research regarding Rita's spatial and temporal instability, but first things first...time to clear the lieutenant for duty. They were organizing the sick bay storage cabinet when the Vulcan entered.

Sonak went straight to the El-Aurian and stood at attention, hands behind his back.

"Lieutenant Sonak reporting for examination as per regulation, Doctor."

He looked at Dael without any sign of the infamous impatience, sometimes even annoyance, of Starfleet officers with medical examination. Of course impatience and annoyance were utterly alien concepts to a kolinarh master used to meditate for hours on end exposed the the scorching desert of his home planet. But Sonak understood perfectly the neccessity of checking the physical, mental and emotional fitness of anyone in acting service; and also that, being personally responsible for each individual on board, the ship's doctor and counselor had to personally check and vouch for it, regardless of Starfleet records and recent examinations done elsewhere. As a fellow scientist, he expected thoroughness and professionalism from those health officers and so dutifully and willingly submitted to regulation.

Preparing for this mandatory meeting, he even offered Dael the isolinear chip containing the last examination he underwent just before being sent to the Hera.

"This will give you a baseline comparison to help you perform your duties, Doctor."

“Thank you, Lieutenant Sonak. I am pleased to formally meet you. Please, have a seat.” Asa motioned towards a chair across the desk from them and reviewed the medical data.

The Vulcan sat as requested.

"It is agreeable to make your acquaintance as well, Doctor."

Once they were complete, they moved towards the Vulcan and scanned with their medical tricorder. “Your records were quite complete, and I see your immunizations are up to date. There are standard supplements usually recommended for Starfleet personnel, but they would be superfluous in your case. However, there is something else I would like to discuss with you.”

The doctor brought over two glasses of cold water, placing one in front of each, and waited on his response.

Sonak was a bit surprised by that, as the very slight lift of his left eyebrow showed. The reaction of course did not escape the attention of the doctor. But his expressioneless feline face did not betray anything, nor his even tone of voice.

"Indeed Doctor? Please let us proceed."

Asa was a bit nervous now. Although they knew their proposal to be a sound one, a small part of their mind screamed at them for wasting the brilliant mans time.

"I understand your psionic capabilities have changed since coming to this universe. While I see you underwent testing on Vulcan, I have concerns that perhaps some undetected changes to your physiology may have occurred, or may occur in the future. I would like your permission to monitor your bio scans from the Hera to establish a baseline for you. Lieutenant Commander Paris has agreed for herself, and I think this may be important. Furthermore, I would like to give her peace of mind by discovering the cause for her transporter instability. Would you be willing to research this with me? It likely has a medical and technological basis," Asa concluded in an even tone.

"That is quite correct, Doctor. In my native universe, I was born with the psionic abilities of some of our distant ancestors. I could read minds without the need for physical contact, as Betazoids naturally do, except that my abilities manifested at birth. And I was able to even perform limited telekinesis. That is why I was entrusted as a child into the care of the Masters of Gol and the disciplines of the kolinarh; so that my powers would not drive me insane or become a danger to others or myself. The attainment of kolinarh purged me of all emotions and taught me such rigorous self disciplines, even Starfleet training seemed like what you would call a wild vacation in comparison."

He made a pause to let Dael think about the implications of what he suggested before continuing.

"Once I emerged in this, your, universe, I immediately sensed something was different. I would compare it to you finding yourself suddenly nearsighted or deafened. It did not take me long to find out that my psionic abilities had been severely stunted. Now, I can only perform touch telepathy and mental projection as any other Vulcan; and no telekinesis at all."

He looked at the doctor with unwavering grey eyes and a hint of obvious curiosity on his otherwise blank face.

"I am understandably curious about it all. Duty does not allow for work of personal interest. And I do not think I would have the time or competence to properly research the matter on my own, except through my off-duty meditations. Your professional help is therefore most appreciated in this. The answers may indeed prove of consequence for my duty on board the Hera. I will thus comply with your monitoring proposal."

He looked away a moment as he spoke next.

"As for she who is my wife; again, I would not have been allowed to do such an inquiry on duty; and I have rather limited opportunities during off-duty hours. But if you would make it an official medical project, I could add a proper scientific research proposal into what happened to her. We certainly could work on this within the boundaries of protocol and with the ship's ressources at our disposal. "

He made another pause, obviously thinking, before looking back at her.

"May I suggest a joint study of quantum fluctuations in teleportation effects and consequences on organic matter? Or if you already have a project laid out, I would be honored to contribute to your efforts."

All this time, he never even glanced at the glass of water set in front of him.

“Your idea is a sound one, but for her mental health, and also to avoid any further possible negative transporter consequences, I do not want her in a transporter bodily until the cause is revealed. It may not be avoidable, but it should be avoided if at all possible.”

"Understood," the Vulcan simply acknowledged with a nod.

The doctor pulled out a PaDD with a proposal loaded. It detailed creating a scanning bracelet for both of the Universe-travelers to wear that would monitor their biorhythms above and beyond what the ship already did at all times. The scanner would pay special attention to quantum fields surrounding them both, as well as even a minute genetic change.

“We need to start with baselines. I need to know where you both are right now, and I will compare that to what data I have from your past. First, we look to see what changes have occurred. I could use your help constructing the scanning device. Is that something you are comfortable with? What do you propose for first steps? Then we need to see if your quantum signature is any different when transported than people native to this universe. I would also like to take some samples from Rita of her stem cells to use in testing with the transporter so she is not exposed. Thoughts?”

Sonak's eyes seem to loose their focus for a moment as he obviously considered what the doctor had said. Then he looked at the schematics on the PaDD.

"Since I have studied extensively the quantum signature of our original universe and timeline as well as this one, I can easily provide the system's programming. A link for these devices with the ship's computer would provide the best effective monitoring, recording and analyzing data in a continuous stream. I could work on this phase of the study."

His grey pupils fastened once more into those of the El-Aurian.

"You are obviously the one between us both most suited for the biomedical phase. Using the stem cells to experiment on the data we have and then what we will gather with your devices, once properly calibrated, will indeed provide the best way to research and experiment on this. Valid study will be made without actually involving her and risking any other such strange mishap she seems so prone of experiencing. A brilliant idea, Doctor. it had not even occured to me to look down this path."

His tone, if possible, became even more formal. Yet there was a subtle, strange, decidedly not quite vulcan warmth in his words.

"I offer you my gratitude for your efforts on our behalf. We are both in your debt."

Asa beamed with pride to have their ideas well received. The Vulcan was, simply, brilliant, and his endorsement of their skills gave them a much needed confidence boost. "You are both welcome. I am here to serve."

"Chief Councillor Avender Jurot reporting as requested, Doctor," she said rather formally.

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. However, at this moment, she stood stiffly at attention awaiting acknowledgement.

"I didn't...Oh you just arrived didnt you?" It was a rhetorical question , not requiring a response. Turning to see her standing at attention he laughed inwardly. "Please, I'm the Doctor, not the Captain. Relax."

Avender relaxed and smiled. "Thank you, Doctor. I was told I should report to you so we could get acquainted, since we will be working together rather closely. Have you received my file and orders?"

"Probably, but I don't review paperwork till the end of my day. If I sit down at midday- I don't get up again generally unless I am making sure to take breaks precisely when my leg starts to act up."

"That sounds like a wise policy, Doctor," the councilor replied. "If it isn't against protocol, please call me Avender. Friendships start with first names." She smiled brightly at him.

His eyes were briefly startled for usually it was him that said something along those lines. A smile warmed his face to something that was almost handsome "I quite agree, Avender. Its Matthew or Matt if you prefer."

"Thank you, Matt," she said, extending her hand.

He winced and silently apologized for the pain transference as he leaned on his cane so he might shake her hand. "Lets get the required stuff out of the way while we chat hmm?"

"Of course." Avender handed a PaDD to the doctor. "Here are my complete medical records."

=^=Chief Medical Officer, please report to starboard side airlock, Deck 10=^=

The physician looked infuriated as he gripped his cane, his face turning red. "That woman, so damned bound and determined that I cannot contribute..." The injured physician smiled mirthlessly at the Counselor. "You must excuse me, Avender. It seems I am called away. Allow my assistant to take over. ASAAAAA!" The man bellowed as he hobbled out of Sickbay, leaning heavily on his cane.

A slender figure entered the room, medium-fair skin, with androgynous features and close cropped hair. They were fiddling with a medical tricorder and looking in seven different directions at once. Upon making eye contact with the tall woman, the doctor focused and stuck a hand out in greeting.

"Lieutenant JG Asa Dael, pleased to meet you....?" Asa trailed off waiting for the other to respond.

"Chief Councelor Avender Jurot," the Betazoid woman said, smiling. "Please call me Avender." She shook the offered hand gently.

"OK Avender, I'm Asa. Or Doctor, or Doc, or anything really, just not Miss or Mr please. If ever needed, please use the honorific Myx, and my preferred pronouns are they/them. I only say this because I know its a new concept to many and I like to start things off on the right foot."

Asa reviewed all pertinent medical records quickly, "Wow, first person I've met with a complete file, that is welcome. You appear to be up to date on all injections needed. I'm curious though, as ships counselor you and I have a bit of overlap. What are your thoughts on how to best ensure the mental health of the crew?"

"Thank you, Myx. My last billet was a hospital ship, so my patients were mostly trauma victims of some kind. There were a lot of PTSD cases. I was also assigned to Temporal Investigations for a while, as well as Fleet Intelligence. I'm looking forward to having a patient base that I can help work through their issues on their own time instead of Starfleet's rigid schedule." Avender smiled.

"You should also know that I'm a formidable telepath, even for a Betazoid, but the Captain wants me to avoid using it as with the crew as much as possible.

"Yes, I can see your telepathic evaluations from Starfleet here. In my medical opinion, I concur with the Captain. Studies support the belief that most species do not benefit in the long term from mind tampering. And as a member from a race that has had the Q and the Nexus wreck some of our minds....I am even more strongly inclined to agree.

Can you please explain what techniques you are currently using so my practice can best work together to ensure crew wellness?" Asa hoped they were coming across professional, and truly wanted to work with the counselor. They felt strongly that mental vitality to be an essential part of overall wellness, and welcomed any ideas the Betazoid had to work towards that end.

"I usually do my best to make the patient feel relaxed and comfortable. Then I let them tell me what they need to say. I then ask directing questions, allowing them to uncover their issues. It's a cross between Betazoid and Starfleet methods, really. As for telepathic species, Betazoid and Vulcans get along quite well using telepathy. In some ways, it's our last line of defense. Starfleet likes to use highly telepathic Betazoids in their intelligence division."

"Great, thank you. I trust you have worked with crew that required both medicinal and counseling services for their rehabilitation. As we head into our new mission it is likely the crew will need both of us. My door is open if you need to bounce ideas around. I look forward to working together. Do you have any questions for me ?"

"No, but if I do, I will bring them to you, doctor," Avender said.

"Great, I really appreciate your time, Avender. I look forward to working together."

There were a few times in her moderately brief career in Starfleet where Melanie Dox was required to speak with a counselor. Most all of these were just routine check ups as her previous assignments were all on starbases shuttling cargo and the like. Nothing exceptionally thrilling or overtly traumatic.

But it was her life prior to Starfleet that gave her something of a reluctance around counselors. Raised on smuggling vessels, Melanie grew up with a considerable amount of stress that culminated with her parents, the aforementioned Smugglers, being arrested by Starfleet when she was only 14. This was a situation that had her seeing a number of therapists upon being relocated to her grandparents home on Earth. Dox found the entire relationship to be generally adversarial and since learning to keep her stronger emotions in check was something of a survival tactic on the smuggling ship she once called home, she was uncomfortable with sharing her feelings more often than not.

But this was a regulation and one that she had to fulfill if she was to be cleared for to duty as a flight control officer onboard the HERA. And her encounter with first officer Rita Paris was something of a minor disaster for her. Dox had tried to restrain herself emotionally but Paris saw through all of that and dug deep enough to get past Dox's emotional defenses. She could only imagine what a trained counsellor was going to do. And after reading the crew manifest on the PaDD that the first officer had given her with her orders she knew this counselor in particular was a Betazoid.

Automatically this put Dox on guard even though she knew that would be even less effective here than it was with the first officer.

Standing in front of the door to the counselors office, Dox took a deep breath and told herself that she was going to just be straight and not try and be defensive. our meetings with the captain and the chief medical officer both went really well and she was trying to hold on to that sense of mild accomplishment. She tap gently on the console outside the door and heard the familiar chirp come from inside.

"Come!" said a melodious voice from inside. The door shushed open, and she saw the new Chief Counselor. Avender Jurot was a very tall Betazoid woman- much taller than Dox. Her skin was very pale, and her wavy auburn hair reached the small of her back. She was very curvy and busty, a fact that her tailored duty uniform accented.

Avender smiled, and walked toward Dox, hand extended. "Lieutenant Dox! Welcome! Right on time, I see. I'm Chief Counselor Avender Jurot. Please call me Avender." The entire room seemed to radiate serenity: a feeling of comfort and perhaps even happiness.

Dox met the handshake with a quick, regulation two pumps before taking her hand back. Her handshake with the First Officer had lingered considerably too long, awkwardly on her part and she was anxious to not repeat that minor mistake. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox reporting as ordered." She purposefully didn't say "Avender", "Ma'am" or "Councilor", feeling as though the suggestion to do so might be a verbal trap of some sort. In spite of her desire to not do so, she was automatically on the defensive.

Avender smiled wider. "Make yourself comfortable, Lieutenant." She indicated a very comfortable looking recliner couch with a chair and a small glass table next to it. On the table was a pitcher of ice water, a glass, and an archaic box of tissues."

"I sense you are guarded, lieutenant," Avender said. "There is no need to be. I am not here to trick or trap you. In fact, I'm here to help you escape the tricks and traps life may deal to you sometime. And while we are being monitored, the feed goes directly into a medical file accessible only to myself, the CMO, and Starfleet Medical. Of course, if there is a threat to the safety of yourself, the ship or crew, regulations specify that I report that to the Captain."

She sat down and crossed her legs. "So, please, call me Avender. I promise nothing bad will happen here."

"Of course I'm guarded." Dox thought to herself. "The first thing you did when I walked in the door was read my mind." But that's not what she said. She realized rather immediately that her thoughts just now we're obviously not private and she closed her eyes for a moment to compose herself before sitting down.

"As you're clearly aware, I'm not... comfortable... around therapists. And therapists that know what I'm thinking put me even LESS at ease." Dox spoke calmly and with a matter-of-fact tone. She was honest if not 100% happy about it. "But... I'm committed to making this work here on the Hera and that means working on myself and how I deal with people. So... I'm trying, Avender. I apologize in advance."

"While I am VERY capable of reading your mind, and much more, I prefer not to do so for many reasons- one of which is because the Captain told me not to do so. As a Betazoid, I also read emotions. You are clearly uncomfortable, and your body language suggests a readiness for physical confrontation- hence tricks or traps," Avender said.

She sighed. "Lieutenant, I could find out everything about you in an instant, but that would not HELP you. Part of therapy is you opening yourself up and examining yourself- your thoughts and some things that are uncomfortable, and then you work through them with my help and experience. I'm NOT here to hurt you. I'm here to help, if you'll let me. If you don't have faith in my abilities or professionalism, I can recommend you see another counselor and it won't be any kind of mark on your record."

The Betazoid woman leaned forward and looked Dox in the eyes with her black pupils. "I'm asking you trust yourself, and to trust me. If I weren't very good at what I do, I wouldn't be here. If I didn't care, I would have already dismissed you. Let's make a leap of faith together, ok?"

In spite of the councilors assurances, Dox didn't feel any more comfortable, but she also didn't want unnecessary conflict on her first day on board. And she sincerely wanted to be better. "Ok. I can try."

"That's all I ask," the Chief Councelor replied.

McBain had left Lieutenant Sonak and had gone straight to the shuttlebay. He spoke to the deck boss and requisitioned an area in the Torpedo Inspection Area to set up three class-VIII probes and four class-VII probes. The purpose of the class-8s would be to both act as a diversion, and allow some idea of the speed with which the forces of Hera could react. Since they were faster, the class-VII probes would be mag-locked under the Sevens and deploy in-system, but hopefully out of sensor range. Once he had the workstation set up, he nodded at the other man's nervous, and more-than-a-little-disapproving, expression. "I promise you, Chief, the XO will sign off on this as soon as she shows up. I really do have permission."

The Intel Specialist used a nearby terminal to contact a conference call, requesting First Officer Paris, CEng sh'Zoarhi, CInt Clemens, and
ACSci Sonak. Clemens' status showed as Do Not Disturb. As faces appeared on the screen he spoke to the XO first. "Please bear with me just a moment, sirs, ma'am. Commander Paris- I spoke to Lieutenant Sonak, earlier, and took his advice. I have everything set up in the Main Shuttle Bay, Torpedo Inspection Area. The Chief of the Deck needs your authorization for three class-VIII probes and four class-VII probes."

The Commander's face vanished from the screen, and quite shortly she was double-timing it across the flight deck over to the bay McBain was working in. One eye was always on the PaDD as she walked, while she adroitly stepped over cables and cargo and flight deck hazards in those high-heeled knee boots of hers.

"All right Mister McBain... according to what I'm seeing here, the class VII probe is a class V probe with greater range, powered by a micro fusion engine which can propel them at warp 1.5. Their sensors include a passive data gathering system plus subspace transmitter array. Nice, so what's a class V- wait."

In addition, these probes have a hull made from stealth material- that same plating on the hull, right?" Paris asked, then her eyes bugged as she read the next line. "And a low-yield molecular detonation packet linked to detectors registering unauthorized access to the probe HOLYPHLUGERVILLE!!"

"Nukes? We use nukes in case of tampering? Isn't that a bit... overkill?"

"Hardly by modern standards," Sonak reminded them from over the comm channel. "The latest photon torpedoes have a six hundred and ninety gigatons of yield, while the newer quantum torpedoes go as high as two hundred isotons. This self-destruct device is just enough for the probe to obliterate itself down to the molecular level, so as to not leave any trace of itself if found. And it will not leave harmful radiation behind. Allegedly, if detonated inside a building or vessel, the funneling effect of said structure would amplify the blast considerably."

"Never really thought about it, to tell the truth, ma'am." McBain added, as he looked away from the screen to look at the XO. He shrugged. "I tend to leave things I can't change alone. You were right on all counts, though, Commander. I spoke to Lieutenant Sonak, as you suggested, and explained my idea. He suggested using these faster mid-range class-VIIIs as carriers, to piggy-back the VIIs out to Meroset 347 and get them there faster." McBain faced the XO. "I was calling everyone together to determine the best way to get this done. Sound okay to you, Commander?"

"You're doing fine, carry on Mr. McBain. I'm just researching what we're doing so that I know what I am signing off on." In her day there were class 1 probes and that was that. Now they traveled at warp and could nuke when tampered with. flipping through screens, Rita paced in front of McBain's conference call so he wouldn't have to turn to address her as well. While she was no scientific nor technical genius, Rita did have a conscience, and if she was to be held accountable then she needed to know for what.

Looking a bit rattled, the Intel Chief came in, one of the larger PaDDs under an arm. "Got heah as soon as ah could. Ah've been diggin' through th'ship's logs, lookin' fuh anything she might have run into that'd give us an edge. We struck gold, Cohmstohck-style. Ah've got a briefin' worked up, when we get a chance fuh it." He paused, looking at the probe efforts displayed, there. "Saaay...that's some fanceh werk ya got goin' on, son. Ah' like th'piggeh-backin' t'get 'em theah fastuh." He turned to the XO, "Ma'am, we gotta get those probes as dahk as possible, if'n theyah gonna do ennah good at'all. Ah'd like ta check th'31 Vault t'see what we have that'd help. Can ya a'range it?"

"Why can't we use the plating we have on the hull? Isn't that kind of it's entire purpose?" Paris asked plainly and practically, referring to the deep pearlescent violet coating that made the starship's hull appear to be black. "Pretty sure covering a few probes shouldn't be an issue. Meanwhile, check with Dedjoy- she might not have an inventory but she knows what's been identified in the vaults."

Clemens nodded, adding notes to the tab he had open for this meeting.

McBain had been watching for Sonak or Thex to reply on the screen but when he understood what the two officers were talking about he shook his head "No need for that, they're already coated for stealth," he piped in, repeating what had just been discussed. He went on, "In fact, Lieutenant Sonak suggested the class-VII over the class-V, because the VIIs are more stealthy. I think you will find the class-VII are already as stealthy as anything we could add," he remitted redundantly, then continued, "The class-VIIIs are supposed to be seen- they're being sent to test the response time of whatever Hera has for point defense. We're piggy-backing the stealthy guys as they are not as fast." McBain smiled at his XO. "After all, we need the information as soon as possible."

Sonak then spoke while showing a graphic representation of the target system.

"Mister McBain could also plot the flight path of the probes to enter in a specific angle from the star relative to the planet. By using the radiation and photon emissions of the star to blind any sensor or sense turned in this direction while the observation probes are deployed, we should further minimize the chances of detection. This 'fly in the sun' approach could also be used for our own entrance into the system and the planet's vicinity."

McBain smiled in agreement. "Pilots have been using the sun to hide their movements since the first days of aerial combat on Earth." He made eye contact with Sonak "On Earth that would be WW1, like August of 1914." He was apparently unaware how much older air travel on Vulcan was, compared to Earth, and thus was also unaware of the insult he'd just tendered to Sonak. Or, he simply didn't care. McBain pointed to the class-VIIs "Thanks for coming Lieutenant Sonak- I have already started to open this one, for you to program the sensors."

"I estimate it will take forty-seven point five three minutes to complete recalibration and testing of the first one's sensors and transmitter for compressed encrypted blips. Once this is recorded, it will take approximately four point seven five minutes for the others." the Vulcan stated.

Thex had been taking notes whilst saying very little. She finally spoke up. "I could try and improve the probes recalibrating speed. Every second saved could matter."

With everyone present, McBain shut off the conference link on the computer. "They are warp-9 capable as they are. If you do bump the speed capability I need to know exactly for programming the flight. Why I asked for you was because I wanted a transponder and life-force emitters added, so these class-VIIIs will look like a patrol-class ship. The idea is to make sure Hera's forces will see them, so we might get some information on their response time to an intruder. Also we need mag-locks to attach a class-VII probe to the hull of each class-VIII. That will get the slower class-VII Intel probes in system faster. I don't believe either of those projects should be too time-consuming, should they?" he added, like a supervisor "asking" someone to work on the weekend.

Sonak furrowed his brow a moment, not sure the two officers were on the same page. He decided to go into more details.

"The technical task of recalibrating the sensors is not what takes that much time; four point seven five minutes as I said. But a thorough testing of the first modified system before doing the same adjustments to the others is what will actually take time. If we shave off on this, it would mean simply less thoroughness in checking the effectiveness and reliability of the modified system. Considering what we are facing, I would deem it unwise to do so."

"...an', as yer D'partment Haid, given Mistuh Sonak's resuhvayshuns, ah'm afraid ah hafta insist, Raymond," Clemens added. "Those probes're a brillyant ideeyuh, which makes 'em part of th'foundayshun uv th'plan as it stahnds. We really can't ah'foahd fer even one of 'em t'conk out- it might give th'uthuhs away an' leave us blinded. 'Sides," he said, "...it's not like ah'm askin' ya t'put on a cowl n'cape at night, an' dispense justice."

McBain looked from Sonak, to Clemens, before looking at Commander Paris. "What are they talking about?" He felt like he had been trapped inside a looney-bin full of cuckoo birds! “Lieutenant sh'Zoahi does not need to boost the speed, warp-9 is plenty fast enough. Adding the transponders and other equipment is not an unknown procedure, Hell I could do it but it would take me longer. The mag-locks will not alter the performance and I can adjust for the additional weight in the flight plan. Lieutenant Sonak, I have no idea what your concerns are. If you think it is a problem I can program the sensors myself without any concerns at all they will malfunction." he finished, ignoring the clear statement from the Vulcan on exactly what the issue was, and then dismissing him as though he were an underling that got mouthy.

McBain shook his head, and continued, "This is standard everyday equipment! You prepare it you run a simple diagnostic and if it works, it works." He looked at Clemens, raising his hands, unsure how to even answer him. In exasperation, he exclaimed, "No, Sir, you are not asking me to do anything even difficult, let alone super hero-like. This is a routine task."

“I believe the point Mr. Sonak and Chief Clemens are driving at is that they would like to run tests to verify that these alterations will work when we deploy them, Mr. McBain. We’re not in a time crunch, so we do have the luxury of insuring that our modifications will work properly. Am I getting the wavelength here?” the first officer looked around at the assembled officer. “It isn’t rocket science, but it is, so tests would seem to be in order since we’re not doing this on the fly?”

McBain saw the look on all three of those officers eyes. There was no way to explain to these three officers (actually only two of them, but details didn't matter to him) from a long ago time, that this was not some sort of experimental project. This was just another day in the office stuff. They were all senior to him and he saw no reason to try reasoning with them any further. Their collective minds were made up already. "Yes Commander, you need to feel secure in what is happening. I will of course assist in anyway I can." He nodded his head and moved to program the flight plan. There were parts he would need to adjust once he knew the speed and the position of the Hera once launch time was determined. He was so intent in circumventing the assistance that he'd requested from the gathered senior officers, that he failed to notice the flared, arched brows of his immediate superior officer, accompanied by a glare every bit as brilliant as the normally-subtle spymaster's smile. Clemens held his tongue with effort, and let him keep digging.

"All right people, let's review the plan- the order of deployment?" Lt. Cdr. Paris requested. "I know it's been discussed, I'm just seeking clarification," the career fleeter had made a habit out of asking clarifying questions, and it had come in handy more than once.

Sonak spoke from over the console he was using to reprogram and test the first probe's sensor suite.

"If I understood Ensign McBain correctly, the basic idea is to intrude into Hera's space with three decoy probes to gauge her reactions, while studying and evaluating them and her ressources with hidden observational stealth probes launched and deployed before starting the luring maneuver."

"D'we know ennathin' about owah tahgit system? Realspayce, subspayce, Eee-Ehm layout, what's neahby?" The Intelgineer was busily building simulations, with variously-titled scenarios, such as "Tachyon Detection Grid In Use", and "Heavily-Ionized Upper Atmosphere". "Ah'd hate to git found owt b'cause we didn't know 'bout a pulsah in th'neighbuhood, throwin' out stuff that lights up th'whole place."

"Excellent point, Lieutenant. Computer, give me a two meter holographic representation of the Meroset system. You heard the man, please show us overlays of relevant realspace, subspace, subspace corridors, electromagnetic tides and gravity waves, as well as any planetary issues... as the planet is Meroset 347 I assume this is a solar system with a lot of..."

The holographic representation the first officer had requested of the computer sprang to life before her- that of a system filled with hundreds of small, medium and large planetoids.

"Well... that's an element to be aware of for tactical operations..." Paris muttered.

Sonak nodded without interrupting his work.

"The probes will provide confirmation of this data as well as reveal anything out of the ordinary. As a matter of fact, the luring probes themselves should do active scans the entire duration of their flight and add that data to our passive stealth probes' detections. Active scanning would be expected from scout-ships entering the system. It would not entice suspicion; in fact, not doing it might just look suspicious in itself."

"I would suggest the class-VII probes not close with any of the small planetoids, or larger objects, any nearer then 20,000 miles. That should keep them out of range of any mines and still allow for a complete scan." McBain had figured on the class-VIIIs doing an active scan and saw no reason to say so since it was already mentioned, which was a change in routine for him. He had felt the active scan would be sure to set off any passive warning systems. That would prove a useful bit of information. All those big rocks would make it tough to fly but easier to hide their approach for the infiltration teams. This would be interesting, as it almost seemed as though this system was made for hiding and ambushes.

"The class VII probe sensors have a range of four hundred and fifty million kilometers," Sonak specified as he was working on them; "or two hundred eighty-one million, two hundred and fifty thousand miles in the antiquated Terran measurement system you are referring to. That is roughly as much as two astronomical units. The probes can hide as far as the orbit of the next outer planet and still provide perfect scans without being easily detected, being themselves barely two meters in length and doing only passive, undetectable scans."

"Undetectable to us mere mortals. Who can say what tech Hera may have access to." Thex added memories of having to patch up holes created by the weapons of the master still fresh in her head.

McBain nodded at Thex's words. "2AU is fine and even accurate for normal survey work. This is military intelligence gathering and even at a high orbit there are many reasons command has to put boots on the ground to figure out what is there. Certain forms of radiation, heavy/dense ores, not to mention military grade shielding will all mess with a long range scan. The sheer number of planetoids present would make a long range scan all but useless for our purposes. I would agree to send one to do a deep space scan for an overview though as that might be useful for the Hera to enter the system," he offered magnanimously, after lecturing the room. A lot of good officers put too much faith in technology and lived to rue the day they did. "I believe 20,000 mile proximity should get us more of what we need," blissfully-unaware that he'd just countered his own argument that this was all routine, and shouldn't require any kid-glove treatment. He glanced at Thex smiling "...and nothing is undetectable if you are searching for it with the right tools."

"Your assessment is sound, considering the present circumstances," the Vulcan agreed. "I was not criticizing your approach; only reminding you of the capabilities of our instruments. I will be able to even enhance scanners resolutions for your thirty-two thousand kilometers chosen close range."

He then turned to Thex.

"As for the capabilities of our opposition, speculations are useless. We can only work with what we actually know and can do; and from there, try learning more and adjust ourselves accordingly. This is in fact the very purpose of Mister McBain's well thought-out endeavor."

"Mmmm, former MACO, infiltration specialist, programmer, engineer, scientist, tactician, astronomer, senior officer. We certainly are fortunate to have you amongst us, Ensign McBain," Lieutenant Commander Paris noted with seeming innocent admiration. In point of fact, she'd had more than enough of being lectured by the junior officer and hearing the input of the genuine experts in their respective fields countermanded and dismissed. "Why, I daresay it almost seems as though the rest of the senior staff here are moot, given your expertise in these fields."

The statement could be taken more than one way, but Paris was hoping her message was getting through. His reaction would clearly dictate to her whether he was a genuine professional, if he took the hint.

"Let's throw a probe at the outer edge of the system to orbit it and refresh our astronomical data in addition to what's been discussed. I think we're done here, people? Good work, all. Let's implement." The first officer offered a two-fingered salute and headed off to the next project as the Hera girded for the battle ahead.

.
It had been a long few days.

Onboarding hundreds of new crew and officers, conflicts, reading and analyzing each of the senior officer onboards for reports that never seemed to end. Capturing a spy and chasing down kidnapped crewmen, on top of the fact that the mission was a very angry goddess who had declared war on a great number of races in the Federation, whom they were to stop. Whom had demonstrated a penchant for transforming people into beasts and objects. Fitted for an EVA suit, watching an assassinated officer drop dead, dealing with the idiosyncrasies of many of the extreme personalities that a starship assignment like the USS Hera tended to attract (or have sent to her).

It had worn Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris out, just a bit. Thus she had blocked off a few hours of ‘the First Officer is off duty’ time to tend to herself and her better half.

While she was no chef by any stretch of the imagination, Rita could follow a recipe and assemble a meal. While it was an oddly domestic skill for the extradimensional explorer to possess, she found the ritual of preparing and cooking a meal to be soothing to her nerves. Besides, she was not cooking for one anymore, which brought a smile to her face.

It was still unbelievable to her that Sonak had found her, lost to time and space, once she had provided him with a clue. As impressive as he had always been to her, his latest accomplishment was just that much more incredible. No matter the obstacles nor the distance, he would come for her. The unreasonable faith she had in the man had once again been justified. Despite the statistical improbability, he had masterfully managed to orchestrate their reunion, and make her whole once more.

Now, in their own tradition, she bustled about the larger quarters to which they had been transferred. The executive officer’s quarters were larger even than the chief flight officer’s quarters, and just opposite the captain’s quarters on the starboard side of the starship’s midline. Rita had very practically had the room dividers collected around her kitchenette, then she had just called for the cargo transporters to do a site to site transport to move their belongings, which were admittedly few, and their furniture and room dividers from one quarters to the other.

Which she insured that she was nowhere nearby when said beaming was occurring. Rita had no desire to end up with something inanimate interspersed with her molecules, or finding her atoms rearranged into chicken cordon bleu or a lovely ottoman. While she was absolutely certain that experts from all over the galaxy would reassure her that such a thing were impossible with modern transporter safeguards, she’d heard that more than once, and still beaten the odds to have something unbelievable happen to her.

Another consolation to the extradimensional explorer was that Mirror Universe Commander Rita Paris was almost certainly now long dead. The odds of the woman having experienced the same accident as Rita were too astronomical, even for a Paris. For her peace of mind, Rita was going to file that under the 'pretty positive she's dead by now' category. The look in her eyes as she screamed those last words to her still made the accidental adventurer shudder.

"I will come for him no matter how far you run!" the madwoman had screamed, and Rita believed her.

But that was then, and this was now.

Right here, right now, in the far-flung future of 2395, she was settled on a starship with which she had fallen in love. Sonak by her side, a captain who valued her input and efficiency, and high adventure on the horizon. In short, she had everything to live for, and she wasn’t about to jeopardize that by giving the Starfleet corps of engineers another head-scratcher as they repeated the same lines as their counterparts from decades past. ‘Huh, it isn’t supposed to do that’ was small comfort when your life had been ruined by unstable technology.

Although her latest accident, far from ruining her life, had catapulted them into a future of miraculous technologies, mighty starships and a Federation that had indeed boldly gone. Rita Paris in the 24th and a half century. Buck Rogers be damned.

A few polite requests of some Ops crewmen to help get things set up was easily accomplished, with handshakes all around afterward, and within half an hour the move had been accomplished and Rita was cheerfully bustling about the executive officer's quarters that were three times the size of the bridge of the USS Exeter. A collection of replicated vegetables had been sliced, diced and sautéed, then combined with a little flour and water to be stewed in a saucepan as she’d mixed flour, water and baking powder with a pinch of salt to create a biscuit mix, which she had then rolled flat, with which she had lined small baking tins.

This one was an experiment- carrots, celery, bell peppers, onions, potatoes and something called a lingami root that was supposed to be delicious weren’t quite the ingredients with which she was familiar, but when adapting recipes to a vegetarian lifestyle, sometimes bold choices had to be made. Pouring the mixture into the dough bowls formed by the dough in the baking tins, she laid more of the flattened biscuit mix over the steaming liquid, pressing the edges together and trimming away the excess before sliding them into the oven.

Dinner was underway, and would cook for the next twenty minutes at a low yet miraculously efficient heat. Thus by the time Sonak came home, their quarters would be filled with the scent of home cooking, which made Rita happy and tended to intrigue her logical mate. Headed for the shower, Rita peeled off her uniform, humming a happy tune.

Life was good.



The scent of an unknown, intriguing savory meal flooded the vulcan's nostrils as soon as the door wooshed open. One sharply-angled eyebrow went up slightly as he approached his alluring human wife.

"It always puzzles me to find you so often engaged in the antiquated traditional role of a human wife, and seem to enjoy what has been described in your society as the last form of slavery."

"It is antiquated, and I did struggle and rail against it for years," Rita wiped her hands on a dishtowel, a streak of flour underneath her right eye as she came around the kitchen's island to greet him clad in a short pair of engineering red shorts and a tight pink t-shirt that boldly declared 'Dumb Blonde'.

"But for you, it's different. It fulfills and satisfies you, and I enjoy making you... well, happy isn't the right word, but it stimulates and pleases you. Which stimulates and pleases me." Proud of herself for the mental gymnastics to make her statement logical, she beamed a smile at him- a warm smile amongst the many that she shared with the world. Save that this gentle smile of longing and vulnerability was for his eyes only. For it was only he who made her feel this way.

In the time-honored gesture of intimacy of his people, he extended his two fingers toward hers. As soon as they touched, he shared his thoughts in communication both aloud and telepathically through the bond they shared.

"Please tell me how may I contribute to this time we will share together. Beginning with the meal." Tenderly she stroked his fingers, reveling in the sensation it provided to him before speaking sweetly.

"You may give me a hug, so that I may welcome you home." Enfolding the lanky athletic build of the Vulcan in her arms, she snaked her hands up his back below his own. Barefoot, she was three inches shorter than he, and by cocking her hip and shifting her weight, she lost a bit more height to him. All of which she enjoyed about Sonak, via his solid physical presence which continually served to remind her that she was here, she could be heard, and that she existed.

Sighing away the tension of the day, she let it go. The stress, the schedules, the demands of the job washed away like the tide. Filtered through the calm logic of his mind, her emotional duress and the pressures of the day were easily objective, and could be dealt with rationally. Filed as experiences to assist in formulating future decisions. All of this she accomplished with a hug... and a few years of experience interacting with his incredible mind, meditation techniques and a few intuitive leaps on her part. After all, their union was only possible because they had been so incredibly compatible through some accident of fate.

Sonak felt the wave of her feelings on the shore of his emotionless serenity with the same natural ease as the sea rolls onto a rocky beach. Although the experience was hardly new since he had known her intimately, it was always a novel experience to him. The chaotic flux of human emotions and impulses was as unpredictable as the waves of the ocean and yet as whole was an ordered movement that went so deep he could not fathom it. This alone was something few Vulcans ever experienced; only such as famous historical ambassador Sarek, and legendary science officer T'Pol of two centuries past may have known.

His methodical mind put those short, intense new experiences in a recess of his mind for further meditation, and he returned to the present moment.

Pulling away from him so that she could make eye contact, those bright blue eyes opened wide as Rita smiled a close-lipped smile. "You can set the table and get the drinks? "

"The established ritual then; acknowledged," he answered in his deadpan tone that made it amazingly enough sound like wry humor. "What will be your choice of beverage?"

"Water for me please, I need to hydrate. I've been going all day pretty much nonstop." Fetching a pair of red and white plaid padded cloth oven mitts, the starship siren turned on the oven light to peer at her feat of baking, which looked to be done. The pie tops were golden brown, and they certainly smelled good. Opening the oven door to retrieve the baking pan holding the little biscuit pies, Rita brought them out to pass them under her nose for a long sniff. "Oooh, spicy!"

Bringing them to the dining table, Sonak slid plates in and created a place setting of the utensils with adroit skill. Meanwhile Rita took the small pie tin in hand, protected by the mitts, and dumped it upside down on Sonak's plate. Doing the same for hers, she nodded in satisfaction, then sat down, awaiting her mate with the beverages.

Sonak brought up a pitcher of Earth mountain water he had programmed into the replicator himself, so as to match molecular composition to the original down to the forty-seventh decimal. He poured two servings in Andorian crystal flutes he had acquired somewhere during his Academy crash course. The pitcher itself gave any liquid inside a glowing blueish tinge, as if they were drinking electricity. They also acted as soft glowing moving lights, reminiscent in tone and feel to candle light. The soft, soothing lighting from them he found conductive to restoring serenity after a hard day of work, while he knew Rita would also find it romantic, and quite satisfying to her emotional sensibilities.

With an analytical eye he viewed the dish she was serving and allowed the aroma of it impregnate his senses. As stated the wisdom of Gol, one had to live for the moment; because there was no past; and no future without it.

"My wife, it never fails to fascinate me to see you exhibit with such excellence the ancient culinary skills of an Earth woman of centuries past while knowing that you are an accomplished pilot of the most advanced spacecraft, even of this advanced century. You are undoubtedly without peer."

Breaking with Vulcan tradition as he always had done since knowing her, he served her the first glass of water.

With a slow nod of her head, she acknowledged his gesture. "My husband... I tried that out earlier. It doesn't seem quite right to me somehow, after all these years. Which is hilarious since I was the one who insisted on formalizing our union. I'll get it. Somehow just... Sonak sums it up for me. But I suppose I'll see how it develops over time, yes?"

"I have a tendency to use the traditional forms as a habit of methodology. Our relationship, however, is anything but traditional. Therefore, if your prefer to call one other by our name, let us do so."

"Well, let's not be completely hasty..." Rita waved her fork like a baton, then waggled it absently. "I... do kinda like it when you call me your wife, I must admit. Maybe because I spent all those years telling Daddy I didn't need a husband, it sounds odd for me to embrace it?"

"I have not studied human psychology well enough to make a valid assessment on the matter," he spoke in his usual deadpan tone."However, I have shared your feelings and I understand this; you do not indeed need a husband in the legal nor social sense. What you need is a concerned friend, an attentive partner, and a respectful colleague in all aspects of your life. I am gratified to be able to attempt to fulfill this need, in reciprocity for the unique growing life experience you give me; even in the most simple details, like this shared meal."

Shaking her head, she grinned. "You are right, as always. I'll work with it some, but please, don't let that hinder you from exploring these titles as well, my love. Experiment and see what definitions appeal to you, hm?"

"As for this meal, it's a peasant food of Earth that is called a 'pot pie'. A very ancient Greek recipe, altered by the Romans when they added the crust on top. However, the best way to eat them is to upend them, then mash them onto the plate so that the mixture has a chance to cool, thus bringing it to an edible temperature. Usually fowl meat would provide the protein element. But I think the lingami root should make an interesting substitution." With that, she mashed out the pie onto her plate, the steaming contents filling the air with the fragrant aroma. Closing her eyes to sniff the air, a small contented smile settled onto her face.

"A cultural and historical experience as well as a culinary one; I am grateful for this opportunity."

So saying, he duplicated her action, mashing the meal on his plate with mechanical precision, before taking a morsel to smell it and then slowly taste it. His eyebrow went up and he nodded.

"Rich yet light, nourishing yet tasteful, strong and spicy yet delicate and smooth; this reminds me much of you. You make even a simple shared meal a reminder of our bonding. Again, well done, Rita my wife."

And so saying, he went back to his plate with obvious appreciation.

The smile that spread across her face was one of simple joy. To some the declaration might have sounded cold and logical, bereft of any care or comfort. Yet to her, the words melted her heart all over again. While he appreciated her, more than that, he celebrated her- her culture, her cooking, and herself. She knew there was no false flattery nor lip service to keep her supported emotionally while he hid the truth, as so many did. With him, every statement was genuine, every expression a truth. Who could not love all of that in a man?

"So, were you successful in your endeavors about the ship today?" It wasn't 'how was your day', but that was a nonsensical statement that he had to translate when she spoke thusly. So she made the effort to couch her phrases to be sensible to the logical kolinahr, while still asking about his day and how things had gone.

"Meeting with the captain was... intriguing. She has a way of thinking I do not as yet fully comprehend; but this was only a first contact. Learning to interact with a commanding officer is always part of one's duty. If you recall, it had not been all that easy with Michael either, back then; and he was only human, not a joined twin entity like her."

As he spoke, he did not eat. It would have been disrespectful as much the food itself as too her. Each was an experience of it's own, he wanted to experience fully on their own.

"Captain Telven is, I agree, quite intriguing," Rita responded. "A pirate princess who ran away to join Starfleet. I'll admit that I don't always follow where she is going, but I think in that she is less enigmatic and more..." The word Rita would have used was 'human', but in the 24th century that was simply too close-minded a phrase to be used any longer. "Flawed. She knows an abundance of secrets and she always has an ace up her sleeve, an edge yet to be brought to bear on the situation. She has difficulty trusting, yet that seems to be her fondest desire. This one is a heroine, who rescues the orphans and the abandoned then gathers them to her, inspiring loyalty with her deeds and her desire to help, which she tries to hide behind a cool facade of indifference."

"The chief of science is just as intriguing. Like the commanding officer, this is the first time I have met one of his kind; an artificially-created species, in many ways as much displaced as we ourselves. This Lieutenant Vaemyn is also remarkably emotional, yet seemingly in perfect control; this should prove not only a good balance to me in our work, but a most interesting behavior to experience and learn from. It could even prove useful in my relationship with you."

Before continuing, he looked at her for a second, even as she smiled back at him, enjoying listening to his account of his day aboard the Hera.

"Meeting the El Aurian doctor was also most interesting. This Doctor Dael is obviously very young, especially for their species allegedly, and I sensed some uneasiness in my presence. Yet, our chief medical officer is highly competent, intelligent and open-minded, and truly has our health and care at heart. You might say, in your colloquial human way; what more or better could be asked of a physician?"

"Agreed. They are a young immortal, apparently, taking their first faltering steps into the universe," Rita offered. "Left to their own devices, we will all be dust for centuries before they are even our comparative ages. How exciting to be intheir lives now, in these formative years as they begin to explore the wonders and mysteries of existence. This doctor has courage and compassion in abundance, that simply have yet to be tested, I'll bet."

"As do all living things; each according to their gifts," he concluded.

"As for you, Sonak my love, you never realize just how intimidating it can be to meet you," Rita sighed as her bare foot sought out his, her toes seeking his sock-clad ankles under the table. "One does not encounter a kolinahr master every day, especially not one who hurtles himself across time and space to reunite with his lover. You are an impressive figure, not just to me, and our story is rather well known across the Hera. You remember how difficult it was for me to understand you when we met, and I was a seasoned officer by then."

He stretched his leg towards her to better accommodate her need for physical contact, of which he was well aware. But he did lift an eyebrow at her words.

"Indeed? I was not aware of the emotional effect I might have on others. I shall try to be more... amenable to my fellow emotional colleagues. As for my status as a kolinahr, even Vulcans find it uncomfortable and difficult to understand. It cannot be helped short of explaining myself. And to be honest, I prefer to die misunderstood than to waste all my life explaining myself."

Apparently not even aware of the humor in his statement, he took a forkful of his pot pie, but did not eat it immediately.

"The rest of the crew is representative of the diversity of this twenty-fourth century Federation itself. It seems exploration and discovery will happen, as much within the ship as anywhere else."

"Well, you can be intimidating- that said, you certainly don't need to alter your behavior to accommodate others. I mention it so that you may be aware of how you may be perceived, so that you might have some insight into the reactions your interaction with some of your shipmates may produce. Your guide to the emotional, as always my logical love." Rita grinned cheerily before scooping up a rather large forkful of the pot pie to shovel it into her mouth, only to reach for her water glass. "Hot hot hot!"

Taking the time to taste again the meal she had obviously made especially for him, Sonak, once he had fully swallowed his bite, looked at his bride with seriousness.

"This is most satisfying. That being said, I would like to point out that I do not expect you nor demand of you that you follow my nutritional habits. Humans need complete proteins in their diet which is most easily, and I was told savory, when obtained through the consumption of animal products. Doing so with non-animal food requires complex nutritional calculations and balance and sometimes even supplements; none of this conducive to a satisfactory eating experience. Please do not deprive yourself on my account. I have no problem with you eating meat, fish, eggs or dairy products even in my presence."

"So you've explained, darling. And I do supplement my meals with proteins from time to time, and I assure you, Doctor Dael is certainly watching my health. But when we eat together, I prefer it to be a shared meal that we can both enjoy without compromise. It makes me happy to do this, so it is no sacrifice on my part. Besides," the expressively emotional human woman smiled at the calm kolinahr, "I'm used to it now. More than a little meat in my diet tends to upset my digestion after all these years. I'm content with our compromise- I find ways to interpret my planet's recipes for you, as you explore the spicy and savory dishes of my culture. And we bond emotionally over the sharing of food, which fulfills me. I create, I provide for you, we enjoy together. I daresay I have it better than most."

The somber scientist nodded sagely.

"Flawless analysis and perfect logic. You would not have done better had you been a Vulcan woman. And it is all the more fascinating to realize that it all comes from an emotional standpoint of a desire to share a life experience. I am humbled and honored by your decisions and actions, Rita, my wife."

"What higher praise could a girl ask for?"



When dinner was finished and the dishes had been washed and put away, the leftovers were stored to be distributed later amongst their senior officers. Curled up on the simple yet comfortable Scandanavian design sofa in their living room, Rita snuggled against the lanky athletic form of her husband... lover... Sonak, she still felt summed it up. Rolling her eyes skyward, the fickle woman resolved to continue to play this one by ear.

"While I understand that you have infinite patience for watching the old Earth vids of our entertainments- and I do have to show you Wreck-It-Ralph, that reminds me- but tonight, how about you show me something from your culture that was created after..." Rita pulled back from him a bit so she could make eye contact, even though in contact with him like this, if she thought it he knew it, and what she felt he felt. Yet it was important to her to see his eyes when she said certain things, and broached certain subjects. Because it was reassuring to her to see his reactions.

"You know, after your Vulcan was no more? Tonight kind of celebrate the future of your people that was meant to be?"

It took him a moment to fully process what she was hinting at.

"After the destruction of Vulcan, there had been an intensive work of finding a new home and trying to preserve our kind from extinction. The urgent need of preservation of what we had been stunted any new artistic endeavor for a good while."

Another moment passed in consideration for him before he spoke again.

"There was, however, an ode composed by Ambassador Spock, shortly before he passed away on New Vulcan. Of course, it is unknown in this universe, so there is no way to show it to you... except if I were to play it on my own ka'athyra,; my lyre."

The eyes of the pretty pilot went wide. "Wait, you can play an instrument too?"

"Most Vulcans do," he replied matter-of-factly."Music is highly mathematical and conducive to higher brain function stimulation."

Those bright blue eyes slid to half lidded as she made the realization. "Of course you can. How silly of me." Rolling over to sit in a lotus position on the couch, Rita prepared to be an attentive audience. She'd actually meant something from the Vulcan of the Prime universe from the past 120 years, but this promised to be rather unique and beautiful experience all its own. "Did you bring one with you? Oh wait, you can replicate one, can't you? The future, I tellya."

"I brought my own from our own universe, when I traveled quantum realities," he revealed. "Musical instruments need to be... enlivened, for lack of a better word. They must be played and aged with the musician, to best render in sounds what is within the artist."

Sitting up straight, Rita offered a happy tight-lipped smile to her still-surprising after all these years mate. "Yes, please? I would very much like to hear Ambassador Spock's final composition. Thank you, my talented spouse. Oooh, I like that one! Spouse..."

The stoic Vulcan stood up and went to his own bag that he hadn't taken time to empty fully, caught up in his reunion with his T'hy'la and their bonding, and meeting his fellow officers and preparing for the mission. He returned with a strangely warped cross between a harp and a guitar, with controls aligned on top, and a big knob where the strings met at the base. While he sat cross-legged, Sonak rested the curved base on one thigh, as the rest of the instrument rose vertically along his torso and over his head.

Activating the electronics within the simple dark lacquered wooden frame, he took a moment to adjust the metallic strings to harmonize the eerie haunting sound that emanated from the circuitry.

"Music was part of my training in the attainment of kolinahr. As it is also conducive to elicit emotional responses, it was used to bring mine to the forefront; thus I could better understand them, prior to discarding them. This would leave only the intellectual appreciation and mathematical understanding of music, freed of emotional 'noise'. But I must warn you; I am no great artist. I am only an average player, nothing more. Your human sensibilities will undoubtedly find my playing technical and dry. But do I hope you will appreciate at least the message Ambassador Spock tried to convey through the music. After all, he was half-human."

So saying, he let the silence fill the air before starting an long, eerily single note, as if evoking the vastness of space. Then, a few notes crept in, like sensors signalling approach to a planet. And then the full melody began. At first, it spoke of the time honored dignity of Vulcan, and then abruptly came low, tragic notes; the abrupt end of Vulcan, suddenly cutting short the promise of billions of souls on a world destroyed before it's time. Then, slowly, sounds of mourning and loss merged into stronger notes of resolve in the search of a new life, of the effort of rebuilding a future; the sound of New Vulcan.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRfbWrI03gc

Through it all, Rita closed her eyes, letting the music carry her along on its journey. It was similar to some earth music, if one looked for similarities. Instead, the explorer of space and time and experience simply listened without preconception and marveled at the alien composition, on an instrument unknown on her world. Haunting and beautiful, she found herself profoundly moved by it. The seemingly discordant notes were placed, she felt, with evocative intent, while the flow of the ethereal electronic 'voice' beneath it all that sang a song that was sad, yet sublime.

When Sonak finished, gradually his attentive audience opened her eyes, surprised to find tears rolling down her face. "That was... beautiful and moving. Thank you, Sonak, for sharing that with me. Do you know any other songs... ah, compositions?"

He nodded.

"Would you like one made in the human neo-classical style? You should find it less... alien."

He adjusted his lyre and other sounds came out of it as he played a much shorter but much simpler piece.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0V1742vwdg

As the evening progressed, at her request he played a few more songs for her, before they retired to the bedroom. There they passed a few more hours, exploring the mysteries of the inner self as well as the pleasures of the flesh; that which she craved, which he did oblige. When the crashing waves of her passion had exhausted themselves against the shore of his stoic endurance, at last they lay still; together, at peace. Her mind was calm and quiet, one of the few times that could be said. Her breathing was slowing, although still elevated to manage her higher heart rate when her mind was so interlaced with his own that it affected her physicality, moving them both toward a center, a compromise between her one and his three beats per second.

Fulfilled, blissful and secure, her soothed psyche would soon drift off to sleep, her body satiated, her soul blissful. The all-too-human woman did not speak nor form a thought, but the deep and abiding love that she felt for the alien male from the dry, dusty planet light-years from her home filled her to overflowing, thus it flowed through her to him. No words could express with such purity the depth and breadth of her feelings for him, when such a simple emotional exchange could speak volumes. A small, contented sigh escaped her lips as she snuggled against his form, as she was wont to do in moments such as this when he was close to her.

As for Sonak, it was much more than just the fulfillment of self, in giving the best of himself to his human lover for her own sake. Rita had literally opened a whole new universe for him; one that he was so much enticed to explore, as it was so rich and so different. So alien, and yet so close to the core of his being.

Apart, but never parted... touching and touched...

As the human woman slipped from consciousnesses, she subconsciously tugged oh so gently at the mind of her Vulcan mate, silently pleading with him to accompany her. While her intellect was not subpar, attempting to affect his vast and organized mind was a feat akin to moving a starship with her bare hands. In his time he had faced some of the most powerful intellects in their universe, and come away all the stronger for the experience. Yet allowing his higher mental function to suspend itself, he too allowed his mind to enter a state of relaxation and slumber. For as was their tradition, where she plotted a course, he willingly chose to follow.

Exploring the unknown... together.



http://memory-beta.wikia.com/wiki/Ka'athyra

The hour was late, and the smell of coffee thick in the air as Doctor Asa Dael, newest Starfleet Medical graduate and relentless researcher tapped their short nails along their new desk. The task they were researching was a serious one, and the list of people cleared to see their data was short.

With a sigh, they say into the empty room, “Activate Emergency Medical Program please.”

"Please state the nature of the medical emergency," said the EMH as it shimmered into existence.

“Yes, I’m researching something, and I need to conduct trials that I dare not attempt on live subjects. I’m wondering if I set the parameters if you would be comfortable monitoring when I am away from the ship? This has the potential to save many lives, and I have reason to believe your contribution will be invaluable. I will be programming the simulation based on extrapolations from data of failed previous trials combined with attempts at new methodologies. Are you comfortable handling this within the bounds of your programming, or should I request a code patch from command?”

"If it's just simulations, I don't see what the harm could be. What kind of testing is it?" Even though there wasn't a need for his medical skills on living beings, it was obvious his skills were needed and thus he was cheerful. It seemed that some passive flattery got you a lot with the EMH.

“The so-called-gods we are currently entangled with have us over a serious barrel. Part of that is their biology. They have an organ that allows them to use a power source and directly materialize or transmogrify matter. Tests have been done to replicate the effect, but the results were…messy. So, we need to strip it all back to the beginning and either find a way to nullify or replicate the effect, without blowing up the crew from the inside.

I have strong suspicions that these being are photosynthetic and augment their physiology with optional food and drink received as ‘offerings’ from supplicants. I think the first step would be to upload the data we have into a simulation and see if we can create the results that occurred on the original experiments. Once that is done, we can try new methodologies. What are your thoughts? You possess the knowledge of the brightest medical minds in Starfleet, and your own experiences as well.”

The sarcasm in Daels tone when referring to the beings as gods was palpable, as was the scorn, but curiosity was there too. They handed the EMH a PaDD containing the relevant data from prior experiments, and waited for him to process the information.

Looking over the PaDD at high speed, the EMH processed it all as best he could within his programming. "I see... I think their reasoning was fundamentally flawed. According to records these beings fed on mental energy via some sort of primitive worship from others rather than..."

Moving around the office a bit and tapping the PaDD a bit more, he looked for a correlation that he hoped might be there. "There's some data missing." He blurted out, looking up suddenly. "The link between this organ and their worship consumption."

Asa blinked, startled, and a little irritated at themself they had not seen the gap. “I don’t think the Captain withheld any data…I wonder if someone is holding back on her? I’ll ask her in the morning…no point waking her up at this hour.

So, let’s start with what we know. Primitive humans worship consisted of chanting, singing, meditation, praise, and sacrifices. Possible energy sources from those things could be based in harmonics, mental frequencies, emotional auras, calories…..what else?”

The EMH was thoughtful for a moment. "It could be something we can't detect. These scans are inconclusive on how they're able to transmit energy from their power sources to the organ in their bodies that give them their powers. It's almost like that information was omitted intentionally."

"Ok. Let's put a pin in that then. The organ itself. What does its genetic structure tell us? What species has the closest known structure? " the doctor was running their hands through their close cropped hair in frustration. They had been staring at the data so long they could barely see straight, and should have been in bed hours ago.

The EMH tapped the PaDD a few times, consumed in his task. "It looks similar to a Teresian eel or a Denobulan gecko's adrenal gland... The mid-thorasic electric generation abilities of several species is quite close. Ah, but the nervous connections are far more advanced."

Pinching the bridge of their nose the doctor said, "One out of four of those words made sense to me. Thank you though, valuable info. I'm curious, would you be interested in the ability to activate and deactivate your program? You are part of this medical staff, and I want to know your goals."

"I actually already have those powers now. As for my goals, I'm already the most efficient member of your staff. I guess I'd like to grow beyond just being the basic EMH program, but that will take time."The EMH tapped at the PaDD a bit more.

"I can't argue with that. If there is something I can do to help with those goals, speak up ok? Don't want you feeling unappreciated here. I have got to get some sleep before my eyes fall out. I'm going to speak to the Captain in the morning about the missing data and see what we can find out. I need this project to stay top secret ok?" the drowsy doctor intoned.

"Don't worry, this will stay between you, me, and the captain," The EMH assured them with a smile before returning to perusing the data. "Go get some rest and I'll keep at this. Don't worry, ok?"

"Thanks Doctor, you are a lifesaver," Asa said with a wink as they walked out Sick Bay to their quarters.

It was the morning after her first day aboard the U.S.S. Hera, and Lt. Junior Grade Melanie Dox was making her way down the corridor of deck 4 on her way to the Flight Control Office. She had an appointment at 0:700 hours with the First Officer, Rita Paris and Ensign Mona Gonadie to test her skills as a pilot on simulation.

As Dox made her way to the office, she was fighting off butterflies in her stomach. Her first meeting with Rita Paris was an emotional one for the new flight control officer. Emotional, but as she could see after a good night's sleep and time to think on it, a largely positive one. Last night, all Dox could remember was the mistakes she made and feeling embarrassed. Today, however, was a new day and Dox was committed to treating it as such.

The Runabout that delivered her to the Hera took 7 days to make the trip, and in that time Dox did her best to learn whatever she could from the crew listings for the Hera. She knew that Rita Paris wasn't JUST the ships XO, but also an incredibly accomplished pilot who was at the helm of this very ship not long ago. So, Melanie knew she would have to do her very best to pass muster today. And she admitted to herself that she really hoped to make a solid second impression upon Paris... even a little.

She approached the door planning to press the pad at the door, activating the melodious chime inside. Instead the door opened at her approach, as if she had been expected. Or the door was just set to open at the approach of authorized personnel- hard to tell.

Inside the spacious flight control office, the colorfully-plumed Ensign Mona Gonadie sat casually in one of the office chairs, while the ever-ebullient Lieutenant Commander Paris was leaning against her desk, half-sitting but mostly just leaning. Raising a cup of steaming something that smelled like coffee, Paris flashed a smile at the sight of the new pilot. “Well there she is, and right on time! C’mon in JG, don’t be a stranger. Coffee?”

At the door and standing at attention, Dox announced herself with a smile on her face. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox, reporting as ordered, Ma'am." Immediately afterwards, her posture loosened up ever so slightly as she stepped into the room, still smiling as she glanced around the office for a moment. "No thank you, Commander. I had a cup in my quarters."

That earned her a raised eyebrow, followed by a shrug. “As you like. Lieutenant Dox, may I introduce Ensign Gonadie. She’s my assistant chief at the moment, and the best pilot onboard the Hera, hands down. Gonadie, Dox. She’s the new gal, and Cap’n wants her up to speed for bridge duty since she has this crazy idea that running the ship for her is going to leave me too busy to sit in the pilot’s seat.”

It was clear from her tone and demeanor that the First Officer was being sarcastic. If she’d been scheduled for a bridge shift in the past three days, she would have been too busy to serve it. Now, with her schedule freeing up, she was more likely to need to be parked in the center chair than at the helm.

Raising her mug in greeting, Mona didn't move from her spot lounging. "Good to meet you. Stick with me and I'll get you flying this baby almost as well as the Chief."

“So, have you handled a nebula class before, Dox? Or will this be your first time?” Paris asked, framed by the view of the flight deck. The flight control office had floor to ceiling reinforced transparent aluminum aft walls, which enabled one in the office to observe all the comings and goings on the flight deck.

"No, Commander. At least, not for real, although as soon as I got my transfer order, I put in as many hours in the holodeck at Starbase 17 as possible on a standard Nebula Class." Dox started talking a little faster out of excitement. "Of course, you mentioned special control modifications and there was no record available for those for any of MY prior Sims. I have to admit, I'm excited to see them."

"Oh, you're gonna love this," the cheery commander crossed her arms but chucked a thumb toward the avian aviatrix lounging in the chair. "The genius born to fly over here didn't care for flying by button push. She wanted the pilot to feel more in control, guiding the vessel and controlling thrust and attitude, but also manipulating the inertial dampeners, internal to protect the crew and externally to drift. Computer, could you please produce a simulation the Hera bridge flight control station, with full interactivity engaged. Just the station, if you will."

As the bridge helm station shimmered into view, the computer chirruped several times, mimicking the sounds and lights that the station made. Suddenly the front and bottom of the station burst open and a pair of thrust and quad-axial vector controls slid out of the console. around where the hands and wrists of the pilot went as well as near the fingers appeared several holographic controls that looked like something far more futuristic than anything else in the fleet. On top of that, the readouts on the surface of the console popped out into 3D readouts. Even the normally minimally 3D nav sensors came to life in a full array.

In an instant, Dox's desire to remain professional and controlled flew right out the nearest window. Dox stepped forward toward the holographic console with her eyes wide and her jaw wide open. Her hands floated above the controls as she took in all the information of the controls. "Oh my... I... This is just... Wow!"

Realizing her glee was completely unrestrained, Dox jerked back slightly with her hand on her chest. She turned to the statuesque First Officer with a slight embarrassed but wide, toothy grin. "Uh... Sorry Commander. I got a little carried away."

The big blonde Valkyrie first officer shook her head and chuckled. "No no, I did that out here because I wanted to see the reaction live. Gonadie here is a genius at flight control systems, make no mistake. Listen to her and she'll never steer you wrong. So," clapping her hands and rubbing them together, Paris eyed the new pilot with mischief in her eye. "Why don't we see just what you can do with the Hera, Miss Dox?"

After the briefest mention of taking the station, Dox slid into the seat. She ran her hands over the controls gently as she paused over each individual control. "Attitude control. Pitch and yaw. Interactive holographic manual..." Her voice trailed off slightly as she moved across the displays. "Thruster control, impulse, warp. 360 3-D navigational interface. This is amazing, Ensign Gonadie. There are bits and pieces similar to other flight control systems I've studied. Fighters developed during the Dominion war... The Delta Flyer modified Runabout. But this integrated system is just... Light years beyond that."

"I just took my own people's flight controls, current Federation tech, some tricks from Intel, a few things we learned from the recent war, and threw them together." Ensign Gonadie was humble in her accomplishments, if not in her piloting abilities. "The next step is to throw you in a simulator with them. Would you prefer to start with a runabout or the big girl herself?"

After the briefest of pauses, concerned for only a moment with coming off as overeager, Dox responded rather enthusiastically, "I do think I'd like to jump in the deep end."

Grinning mischievously, Mona got up and headed to the nearest unused simulator. "Deep end it is." Setting it for the USS Hera bridge, she programmed the simulator for a battle they had some time ago against a series of Cardassian weapons platforms that were left over from the Dominion war and used to defend a bio-research facility. "In this scenario, you have to keep the Hera safe for fourteen minutes while the away team launches, takes out an asteroid facility, and returns. The enemy is fifty seven Cardassian weapons platforms. Commander, I've heard you're good with weapons. Would you like to take the tactical station? I think I remember how Enalia commanded this particular mission, if you don't mind if I take the center seat and give some basic direction."

"A chance to play with guns? I'm in," the first officer clasped her hands and rubbed them together. "I've always wanted to try out this ring phaser system. Multiple targeting with focused capability for more power all computer coordinated in a realtime tactical display? With fifty-seven platforms. Multiple targets in a mobile mission with an established timeline?" The excitement of the emotional executive was evident, but she brought herself up short. Standing up almost at attention, Paris bowed slightly. "To be fair, Miss Dox, this is your first time. So if you have no objection, would you care for a navigator, the way we did it back in my day?"

"I would very much appreciate the assistance, Commander." Dox responded, still smiling. "It sounds like we'll have our hands very full here."

The lost navigator beamed that million-watt smile that made you wonder why she hadn't been a model at Dox, as she stepped behind the tactical station. "You drive and I'll shoot," Lt. Cdr. Paris offered as the displays sprang to life as she logged in. "So on your call, Ensign. Miss Dox... are you ready to fly?"

"Aye, Commander." Dox turned toward the center seat and Ensign Gonadie repeating the First Officers words with eagerness. "Ready to fly, Ma'am."

Sitting in the center seat, Mona tapped at the console to bring up the controls. "Then let's get this show going. Computer, begin simulation." With a chirrup the sim sealed and began, popping them out of warp right in front of 3 large asteroids in the middle of the badlands. Around them were arrayed 57 weapons platforms armed with hundreds of torpedoes and dozens of phasers each. A holographic Ensign shimmered into view at the ops and science stations to help run them. "Take us in towards the central asteroid and prep the Selune for launch. Let's distract as many of the platforms as we can so they don't get a lucky hit. Begin scans for the power source and target freely."

"Aye, ma'am." Dox replied, her smile now replaced with a blank, calm expression of increased focus as she leaned into the controls. The simulated Hera leapt to life, banking sharply to port as the nearest two arrays opened fire with a volley of high-powered phased fire. There was a slight tremor as the blasts fell behind the Hera, which arced in a wide figure eight dancing just ahead of the enemy fire. "Brace yourselves." Dox exclaimed matter-of-factly.

The Hera took a sharp turn towards the gap between the two firing arrays, narrowly avoiding a blast of phaser fire that was aimed just ahead of where the ship would have been had Dox not turned. As the arrays continued firing, Dox slid her fingers on the acceleration controls. "Increasing velocity to maximum impulse." The Simulated Hera shot between the two arrays. Behind the path of the massive nebula-class ship, the two arrays fire had been turned on each other.

A ready indicator began blinking on Mona's readout so she tapped the control. "Runabout Selune is away. Fourteen minute countdown started." On her terminal another timer was counting down. It was three minutes in when they pinpointed the location of the power supplies for the weapons platforms and roughly eight minutes in when they were able to destroy the first one.

Tapping away at the panel in front of her, the buxom blonde bombardier laid out a sequence, then sent the navigational coordinates and impulse speed calculations to time it. "Here's a sensor scrambler for when you need it, Lieutenant. Just ride in following the collapsing shockwaves and you can use it to get inside their shields if you are feeling particularly bold. Ready on your mark- this kind of trick seldom works more than once in an engagement, though. Shields are modulating at 93%, phasers rotating through frequencies and firing at 50% power with no appreciable drain to the ship's systems. We are officially laying down cover fire like a spastic Sulamid at a rave," Paris reported.

A slight chuckle slipped out of the otherwise steely demeanor of the new pilot at the First Officer's comment. "That should keep their attention off of the Selune. But let's make doubly sure they have a smooth ride." Dox swung the Hera back along the path of the Runabout, launching the simulated vessel well over and in front of the smaller craft. "That's right, fire at us." Slamming back on the advanced controls, Dox put the Hera into a tight spiral, spinning the ship on it side to avoid the counter fire.

"You do make targeting resolutions a challenge, Lieutenant Dox," the gold-clad commander called cheerfully from the tactical console. "Here's a little treat for you boys," Paris muttered as she launched a sequence of six torpedoes, all of whom seemed to overshoot the mark, exploding just behind one of the asteroids all in a coordinated and circular sequence. But once all six had exploded, creating a circular shaped shockwave, there was a cry of triumph from the tall tactician. "Hahahhh! How do you like your stable targeting resolutions when I've started your asteroid moving and rotating, huh? Eat my physics, Oh Ye Of No Impulse Drive!"

Clearly the first officer was rather enjoying herself.

Since the weapons platforms were highly mobile, self-targeting and only relied on the two oddball asteroids for remote power, they were able to keep firing, though the interruption to the power delivery of about half of them was noticeable. The simulation recalculated a few things based on that maneuver and made the person at the science station chime in. "Captain, I think I have resolution on one of the power plants thanks to that."

Then the Ops station chimed in just like in the real mission, right after. "I think we can punch through the asteroid's shields with a modified phaser harmonic and disable at least one of them. We'll only have about half of the platforms to deal with then."

The counter to that discovery was well ahead of schedule, which was impressive. Mona grinned as she hit a mark on the count. "Get on it using the pod arrays. Prepare a full spread of quantums from the aft launchers to follow it to make sure it stays dead." She had her part to play as well after all, and that was the order that the captain had given.

"That sounds like our cue," the navigator of a bygone age plotted the course to include the photon disruption spread, then sent the telemetry to the helm. "Are you game, Miss Dox? This is going to take some rather spectacular timing, and we really want to be good and away when the aft spread blows."

"Aye, Commander." Dox responded. "On your mark."

There was tension on the bridge for what seemed like an eternity, as the navigator who had never manned such a console marveled at just how much easier things had become in the century and change she had missed. Long manicured fingers danced lightly over the console as below decks fictional tactical personnel scrambled to load torpedo tubes, with reloads ready for the demands the first officer was placing upon them. As the tension built, it was escalated by the distinctive sound of photon torpedoes being launched, heard in rapid succession from multiple launch points, followed by a tense few seconds before Paris ordered, “Mark! Course and speed Miss Dox- if we blow ourselves up the captain will be most put out!”

"Then let's not blow up. Matching course and trajectory." Dox laid hard into the velocity controls and the simulated Hera accelerated to follow the just fired torpedoes as planned. Glancing momentarily down at the console to check their proximity to the torpedo spread, Dox was running the numbers in her head. For this maneuver to work, they had to be precisely outside the detonation radius of the torpedo, but close enough to ride the shockwave past the asteroid’s shields during the hit. Rita Paris' calculations were precise, and there was zero room for error.

But the arrays were still firing, and Dox had to keep those blasts from both damaging the Hera or forcing her off course. The ship’s manual controls made evasive maneuvers easier to achieve rapidly, but not foolproof. With a slight roll to starboard, a volley of phaser blasts skimmed just over the shields of the starship, with the last slapping the shields hard. The shields held and the ship maintained its course and speed, but Dox was momentarily shaken. "Dammit!"

The habit of gripping nearby surfaces, particularly when under stress, was a habit born of years of being immaterial. It served the first officer well now, as she managed to remain upright at her post despite the pounding the Hera was taking. “Stay the course, Miss Dox, or we won’t make it through and all those aft torpedomen will be so disappointed! Get those torpedoes strongbacked across my deck, you roustabouts!”

"On it!" Dox exclaimed intensely. "Impact in 3... 2...And with that, she braced herself slightly and tightened her grip on the controls in anticipation. The torpedoes exploded against the asteroids powerful shields, and the Hera began rattling against the shockwave, threatening to push the massive Nebula-Class starship up and off course like a stone skipping across a lake. Dox adjusted the ships heading manually, dipping the bow down slightly to tuck under the shockwave and into the shielding as planned. The simulated Hera shook hard, but punched through as planned.

"Look at you, Miss Thing," Rita muttered under her breath as her fingers deftly danced across the console, dropping a collection of quantum torpedoes off the edge of the flight deck to complement the three being dropped by the aft launchers as the Hera screamed through the shields of the power generator, leaving behind a collection of black torpedo casings that would wrought wholescale devastation in their wake.

At that close range, the Hera's shields would not be capable of withstanding the explosion of multiple quantum torpedoes and Dox knew it. In an instant, there was a brilliant flash filling the edges of the main viewscreen from the intense explosion behind the ship. Dox pulled her hand from the manual controls, deciding in that instant that maximum impulse wasn't enough and executed a one second, warp one jump that threw her back in her seat but cleared the Hera with ease.

The ship exited warp just under 200,000 miles from the detonation as Dox hit the thrusters hard, putting the Hera into a tight horizontal spin that aimed her bow back at the action like a massive skid out in space. The explosion was brilliant enough to still fill the screen and Dox laid hard on the impulse speed to bring them back towards the weapons arrays. "We'll be back in range in approximately 5 seconds!"

While gripping the command chair tightly, Mona checked the mission timer and status readout. Less than five minutes in, and just over half the platforms were disabled, one power plant was completely destroyed, the main asteroid was drifting into the other one, and the shockwave had scrambled the sensors on about a quarter of the remaining platforms. These two could definitely get into some trouble, especially pulling a stunt like a micro-warp jump in the middle of combat in the badlands. Together, they were probably better than she was, though she'd never tell them that.

That trick wouldn't work twice for the second power station though. The shields on it was auto-calibrating to prevent it just like it had in the actual mission. "You'll need another trick to knock out the other generator. Any ideas?"

"Buy me thirty seconds of peace, Miss Dox, if you please, and we're going to forge ourselves a juggernaut. With your permission," Paris called to Gonadie in the captain's chair. "Captain Gonadie? I'll be lowering and raising the shields, with considerable power to the forward. They won't expect us to be able to take the amount of punishment we can, and we don't have to worry about our rear shields, because they have no fighter craft, just emplacements. What do you say we go shoot ducks in barrels, ladies?"

"Aye, Commander!" Dox exclaimed with a very slight smirk, absolutely loving how remarkably agile the Hera was for such a massive vessel, darting ahead of the array fire.

“Keep us clear of fire for eight seconds, Miss Dox,” the long-lost lady lieutenant, a real original series gal from a generation long ago worked out the play from the tactical station. Dropping the shields, the atomic blonde relied on the natural talent manning the helm to keep the Hera out of danger long enough for the Hera to be defenseless at red alert in active combat. Raising them again, the aft shields were now at ¼ strength while the forward shields were now formed at 300%. As the phaser banks were fully charged and the torpedo tubes were loaded, they might run into power demands from Engineering if they pushed too hard after dropping and raising the shields. But it was a calculated gamble, as targeting resolutions appeared onscreen.

“Duck and weave, but like a claymore mine, front toward enemy Lieutenant… let’s go see what she can handle,” Paris called as she launched a burst of quantum torpedoes in a slow launch series, taking advantage of the distance to space three launches to the same location that would hammer their target’s shields repeatedly in the same spot, one immediately following the next with a precision only a machine could accomplish… or a navigator who’d been doing it by hand and eye and instinct for her entire career.

"Aye, Commander!" Dox called back, tucking the nose of the Hera down so the now-reinforced forward shields would take the brunt of the assault from the array, adjusting to keep oncoming fire from hitting the pod, nacelles or engineering hull. The still raw pilot braced herself slightly for the impacts from the enemy fire about to begin pounding the ship.

The three torpedoes exploded, one after the other in a synchronized display of battery, even as the Hera’s phasers lanced forward. First two beams played across the shields, then they were joined by two more, then two more added in as they wove and scattered across the shields, attempting to align in one focused location to devastate the shields.

Even with computer assist, the young pilot was dancing the starship about to minimize the direct pounding on the shields, which was making targeting difficult for the full-figured first officer. But Paris wasn’t complaining- the shields of the power plant were weakening despite the amount of power the Cardassians were pumping into them.

“Shields at 68 percent, she’s holding up… keep us on course, Miss Dox, and there might just be a commendation in it for you,” Paris called, admiring the inexperienced pilot’s native skill. Damned if she isn’t a better pilot than me, Rita thought to herself, a rueful smile on her face. Here’s to the next generation.

Completely lost within the reality of the simulation, Dox lost track of herself and bridge protocol for a moment. "If I don't smear us on that asteroid!" She let out with a slight chuckle. "Uh... Sorry, Commander."

“Eyes on the road, hotshot,” Paris rejoindered. “Those emplacements are finding your range, let’s see some evasion, shields at 53 percent, but we’re almost through theirs…”

"Aye, Commander." Dox repeated, crunching her face up over getting complacent and falling into a predictable evasion pattern. She readjusted her settings slightly and powered the ship forward chastising herself internally.

“Why yes, I would like to target one locale since we’re on a steady course… phasers at 60% power aaaaand,” Paris muttered as her fingers danced across the tactical display, then a holographic option popped up before her. Grunting in amusement, the old-school officer set the phasers manually… because she could. “See how you like this…”

All six of the forward phaser banks aligned, from the dorsal end ventral of the starship’s saucer section, bringing the bright golden beams into two tight lances of light that met on the Cardassian power station, powering through the remainder of the shields and lancing into the power station itself, resulting in a rather impressive explosion.

“Six phasers. Very impressive,” the throwback officer from the days of two forward mounted phasers remarked. “Let’s keep harassing those weapon platforms, Miss Dox. Pave the way for the Selune’s escape, seeing as how they still have some time to complete their mission, and we’ve time to waste. Unless since the fancy flying portion of the program is concluded, you’ve had enough?” It was clear from the tall tactician’s tone that she was easy either way, although the junior officer might well be looking for a hidden agenda.

But Dox didn't give her tone a second thought. "On it." She replied quickly, while scanning her instruments for the positions of the remaining weapons platforms. "Let's give the Selune a clear path." With possibly the broadest smile she had allowed herself since the exercise had began, Dox slid the power up on both the internal and external dampeners and took the simulated starship into a barrel roll in space, bringing the nose of the Hera back around towards their targets, beginning a zig-zag pattern to allow Paris ample shooting opportunities.

An alarm sounded on the command chair signaling mission goals completed. Mona silenced it and addressed the two. "Congratulations. With both power plants destroyed all the weapons platforms are disabled and the Selune can complete their mission in peace. Unfortunately, due to the shockwaves that hit the central asteroid, they might not make it back inside the expected window now, if at all... But hey, you did incredibly well."

"If at all?" Dox sat back with a jerk, toward Ensign Gonadie, a concerned look across her face. She was still so caught up in the simulation that her heart sank, concerned that her over-aggressive piloting might have jeopardized the away crew. She knew there WAS no away team, of course, but the fear of that possible failure played across her face.

“If there’s fault with that specific outcome, it lies with She Who Got Excitable About Torpedoes, not in the piloting, Miss Dox. Let’s not have any defeatist talk now after your helmsman debut was such a smashing success,” Paris shot a meaningful glance at Gonadie.

"Yes, ma'am." Dox replied, her eyes focused slightly lower. In spite of the first officer assuring her she had done well, she had began replaying the simulation in her head wondering what she could have done differently. Defeatist talk was like a second language to Dox, and she was her own worst enemy.

"I have to agree," replied the brightly plumed Miradonian, checking the simulation's status on the away team. "And it seems the away team is going to pull through only twenty seconds late with the same casualties as in the actual mission."

Relaxing slightly at the report, relieved that her piloting hadn't compromised the mission, Dox turned back to her workstation. "Rendezvous coordinates set."

"Since there's literally nothing left for the simulator to throw at us..." Mona relaxed as well, slouching in the plush and comfortable command chair. "You both did much better than I expected. However, as a Miradonian, I will never admit that either of you are my equals in flight, nor will I admit that you may have a chance at someday besting me. I will however... Consider you nest sisters... I will fly with either of you any day." She had her pride and that was as close as it would let her come to telling the two of them that she was damned proud of them and considered them far and above any normal pilots. This was a rare honor from a Miradonian whether they knew it or not.

"Thank you, ma'am." Dox had never encountered a Miradonian before today, but was still as happy with the compliment as she knew how to be in the moment. Dox was raised until she was 14 on a smuggling freighter where she learned to fly under very demanding parents who had only two forms of feedback: "You failed" and "That should have been better".

Confronted with praise, the insecure officer always expected a "but".

“That’s a darned high compliment there, Ensign,” Paris remarked, subtly reminding Dox of the rank structure, of which she was higher rank than Gonadie, thus 'ma'am' was inappropriate. Stepping out from abound the tactical station, the cheerful commander came around to rest her rounded rear against the far port side of the flight control station. “Color me duly humbled, Miss Gonadie. Although I daresay hotshot here has more chops than I do. I never would have tried that warp hop on the fly- that was gutsy. You followed your instincts, and you improvised a solution that might have saved the ship from an overzealous navigator’s overkill.”

“I think we’ve found your call sign too, Miss Dox. Hotshot suits you,” the commander offered with a wide, cheery grin. “I see big things in your future, Lieutenant. If you aren’t careful, you might end up as one of the great ones.”

Now standing at attention at her station, Dox felt her cheeks go flush, which added to her anxiety. "Thank you, commander. I... hope to live up to your expectations." Dox was certain that there's was some failure she was unaware of that was waiting to be revealed, which made her already stern posture even tighter.

“Well, in order to do that," the well-traveled cosmonaut sighed, then waved her hand a bit. "For starters, stand down, at ease. I, of all people, am a firm believer in military etiquette and discipline- in their time and place. This was a just a simulation test to see how you’d do with the Hera, and I will tell you honestly, Dox- you did spectacularly well. I know I can feel confident leaving her in your hands,” the taller woman clasped the junior officer gently on the shoulder and offered her the experienced smile of the older woman, to the woman two years older than she.

“Far be it for me of all people to discourage good habits. But when we're working with one another in the fleet, no need to come to attention unless a superior officer calls you to attention. The captain denies 'attention on deck' when she takes the bridge, not even 'officer on deck'. It bucks tradition, but you're an adult, you know everyone's rank. So if you aren’t a cadet and you aren’t in trouble, at ease. Respect the rank, use it to address as a guaranteed correct form of address. Just don’t come to attention for the captain unless she’s mad at you." Paris turned to move away, then came back with an upraised finger. "Do yourself a favor and never call her ‘sir’.”

Leading the two pilots out of the simulator, Lieutenant Commander Paris returned them to the flight control office, with its majestic view of the flight deck spread out before them.

“Piloting you have down, I daresay, Lieutenant Dox. As for the officer part… that you’ll learn over time, and it’s partially my job to teach you. But for now, what do you say we crack open a few cold root beers to celebrate your success?” There was no guile, no hidden agenda from the first officer nor any prideful jealousy- instead, she seemed to be genuinely happy to have seen how well her subordinate had performed. The Hera was quite the starship, and she attracted rare and talented pilots.

Allowing herself to relax was not something that came naturally to Dox, but in that moment, she raised her eyes slightly realizing that there was no shoe about to drop. Paris and Gonadie were genuinely impressed with her performance in the simulation. The Hera wasn't the bleak smuggling ship she left behind years ago. This crew wasn't her parents. And in that moment, Melanie Dox exhaled and her shoulders relaxed. She had never been comfortable letting her emotions be known, but she was feeling something warm in her gut as it unclenched and she liked it.

She did well. She could do well. And that thought and even the idea that she might have found a place on the Hera put the slightest of a smile on her face, and she let it live there for a while.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great, Commander."