It was 06:30 in the am. Seregon could not sleep. She had been out of uniform for just over two years. The flashbacks had all but stopped and she could barely see his face any more. It would have been bearable if he had lived. But what would her life be like now? She wondered! And even though she was controlling her feeling, it still haunted her, the look on his face when she announced she was Star Fleet and he was under arrest.

Maybe he thought she would hesitate because they had history? After all it was real for him. He wasn’t an undercover security investigator. Had he not just killed a member of her team who was also undercover, there’s a chance she might have flinched. But gunning that poor agent down the way he did without so much as a grimace to express even the slightest amount of concern, no she had to follow through. And when the first shot of the phaser on stun did not stop him. She tapped the phaser to heavy stun. Shooting again. This time knocking him back considerably. But not stopping him enough for her to feel safe. The next adjustment seemed to do the trick. He went down like a sack of that shit he was feeding those his kidnapped hostages.

As she looked down at him. The disgust in her heart made her no longer feel love for him. Only anguish and pain for her fallen agent.

Present Day:

She snapped out of it. Stood up and walked over to the mirror in her quarters. Adjusted herself and mouthed the words. “You got this. “ and she headed for the bridge to find her new Commanding Officer. She had already seen the doctors and counsellors. Now she would report in with a clean bill of health!

7:00am the bridge of the USS Hera. As she entered wearing the uniform of a security operative. She stepped briefly over to the console where the duty Security agent stood. The bridge was a sublime color of Blues and Grays. It looked like the bridge of someplace special. She enquired about the CO and was told she was in. She thanked the man and headed for the COs ready room. She took a deep breath and checked herself. Then she tapped the entry request button.

Enalia looked up from her teacup and desk terminal to her ready room door. She had just sat down and her appointments were already showing up. They were punctual at least. Setting her teacup back down without even sipping at it, she clicked her terminal off.

"Come in," Enalia called, watching the doors slide open to reveal her first appointment for the day. She remembered this face from all the files she'd seen. Lt. Seregon French, wasn't it? Her file read like she had already had a tour on the Hera and here she was... On the Hera...

Smiling, the spotted captain motioned to the chair across from her desk. "Please, have a seat. May I offer you a drink?"

She did as she was instructed; "Thank you Captain, you are very kind. Water will suffice, please!" said French, not missing the reference to her rank, which up until today and her previous meeting with the ship's counselor, she had no idea what it was. But now she knew. Lt. that suited her just fine. With her drink now in hand, she thanked the Captain again and began to speak before the Captain could start with what she anticipated might be a barrage of questions. "Sir, I have completed all my pre-duty screening, but I don't have the outcome of my visit with the ship's counselor. I would guess that you do?" she asked

"First off, you call me sir again and you're going out the nearest airlock. Second off, I haven't gotten anything saying you're unfit for duty so as far as I'm concerned you're good." Enalia had read her records in depth and while the woman before her was certainly not normal Starfleet material... "I've reviewed your records extensively. I assume most captains wouldn't want to take a chance on you, but I think you'll do well on the Hera."

"I'm glad to hear you say that Captain. Because i've been through enough and I'm ready to go." She said without hesitation!

Enalia smiled and clapped her hands together, looking forward to seeing how well her new Sec/Tac Chief did. "Excellent! The security of the ship is in your hands. Considering our missions, Intel tends to be the most important beyond even the safety of the ship itself. Having worked with Intel before, I'm sure that should come as no surprise to you, but we have a few measures in place to keep the data in their department extra secure that you'll probably need to familiarize yourself with. On top of that, we've faced threats that normal phasers haven't been able to stop so your people will need to train on the TR-116C. The armory is fully stocked with them and I'll expect all new transfers to be fully trained by the time we arrive at our next mission site. Any questions so far?"

"No Captain, but if you have any special instructions for me, I am ready to perform my duties to the best of my ability." replied French

"Just be ready to face anything. At this point a medieval dragon isn't out of the question anymore." Sighing, Enalia leaned back in her chair. "So what are your goals and hopes while aboard? Is there anything you want to accomplish?"

"My goals are the same as they have always been. To be the best that I can be and advance upwardly whilst getting the job done to an above average standard. I give my all at everything I do." said French wondering what all the padds were on her desk and if one of them was from the Ships Counselor.

Enalia scratched at her head as she considered the woman's reply. "That was rather generic... Well, if you don't have anything for me, just worry about settling in and getting your department straight until our next mission briefing comes down."

Seregon wanted the Captain to see that she was really ready for this, but all that came out was jibberish. She did not know what the out come was from the counselor but she did know that it couldn't have been terrible if the Captain was ready to let her go to work. "Damn it! I'm sorry Captain, you deserve a better answer than that. Look, I'm not your average everyday run of the mill officer. I have skills. And I'm ready. I've been down for too damned long and I'm passionate about this new assignment. I want you to know that you can have faith in me because I've prove in the past I can get the job done. If I couldn't I would not waste your time. Have you any orders for me at this time other than just do my job?" She asked with a fire burning inside her.

Enalia couldn't help but chuckle softly. "If I thought you were an average officer, you'd be on another ship right now." Then she turned grim and leaned forward on her desk. "I need someone that can step over other officers from other ships that tried to come in peace and failed. Someone that knows the value of negotiating with a phaser rather than a kind word when those that came before her are laying dead at her feet. If I thought you were a run of the mill officer, I guarantee you would not have set foot on my ship because if you hesitate for even a nanosecond, you or someone under you will die."

Leaning back in her chair, Enalia paused a bit before continuing. "As for our next assignment, it likely involves a being that claims to be a literal god. After dealing with the Q and Prophets, Starfleet deems these beings far less capable but more dangerous as some of them tend to be a bit more... violent. In a few days we should have a full briefing from Intel, but for now just worry about making sure everyone is fully trained and ready for anything."

"I'll get it done, so help me, I'll get it done. Thank you for the opportunity." And she locked her heels and came to the position of attention.

"Excellent. Dismissed." Enalia simply nodded as the woman seemed motivated enough.

French nodded and excecuted an about face and departed the room.

Thex had never liked going into the mess hall apart from when she was needed to fix anything. Still, she could understand that she needed to go for a checkup to see that the injuries she suffered recently had healed properly. Notifying the duty nurse she took a seat and waited for a doctor to see her.

After the nurse let them know their appointment was in, Asa reviewed the file one last time before greeting their fellow crewmate. These first few meetings with people were so vital to building a positive working relationship. As they stood up, Dael adjusted their uniform and slapped on what they hoped would be a welcoming smile.

"Hello, Lietenant Commander sh'Zoarhi. How are you feeling today?" the doctor greeted as they entered the treatment area. The Andorian's body language conveyed a reluctance to be in medical, but Asa could understand that. For most, it was a place following illness or injury, and neither of those things were associated with happiness.

" I'm feeling fine doctor." Thex lied. She was having an okay day though the constant questions of building weapons and armour to protect her ship mates was waying on her. Not that it mattered at the moment. " Just here for my checkups to make sure all the injures i've had are healing properly. " She said politly.

"Thank you for coming, I imagine you have had your fill of the inside of places like this," Asa replied as they began scanning with their tricorder.

Putting the tricorder down, Asa turned to dismiss the nurse from the room, and sat on the bed across from the cerulean chief engineer. "OK. There is no one to brave for right now. It's just me, and you can order me to stand still while you kick my ass, pardon my language. No need to be brave. Your heart rate is up, your metabolic function is down, and there's no way in hell you aren't in pain. Now, you tell me you are fine, ok, you are fine...everyone has a right to manage their body how they want, and I know you are more than capable to perform your duties. What I'm asking you is, will you allow me to help you feel better- less pain, more endurance, and even less stress? I don't bite, and this can be no one's concern but our own if you want."

Asa concluded in a rush, making an effort to keep their voice level, and an understanding smile on their face. In spite of their blunt words, their arms were held non-threateningly at their side and their eyes were soft. The doctor truly hoped Thex would allow them to make life easier, but they respected each person's right to choose.

Thex let out a slight sigh. There was no getting past this doc. " Okay, doc what have you got. I know I have a high-stress life. I'm up late keeping this girl operating, my diet some days is coffee and pain pills. I'm currently still healing from three injuries over the last year and now I'm having to work on weapons that can kill the minions of a pissed of goddess with a very bad attitude." Thex replied rather politely through a grin spread over her face at the end. " The poster is correct though. Join the fleet the greatest adventure of all."

"To start with, we have to get your metabolic rate under control. Variations in that will only serve to exacerbate pain levels and slows your healing. I know finding time to eat is difficult, but it's important we get some variation in your diet. I'm programming a balanced meal plan into your replicator banks, and because I know finding the time to eat can be hard, each meal has an alternate option of a compact cube of around 10 bites. The cube will provide you the same nutrition and hunger satiation levels, although I admit I haven't perfected the taste of them. This was a project I completed at the academy for myself when I had no time to proper meals. Can you commit to find time for 10 bites a meal, 3 times a day at a minimum? I promise it will make you feel better."

" I'll try doc though in my line of work getting time for a meal can be a rarety." Replied the andorian.

"The pain pills are also a less than optimal solution," Asa continued, "Their effectiveness will peak and wane as you take them. The variations in pain relief is adding to your overall stress level, so I'm recommending a dermal patch that you can worn beneath your uniform. It's waterproof and only needs to be changed once a week, and I can program one that will adapt to variation in your bodies pain levels and keep you feeling much better. It may take a day or two to get the programming perfect, but the end result will be much better. Would you consider this?" The normally reticent, awkward doctor was clearly in their element here. There was confidence in their voice, and a sharpness in their eyes. They maintained that warm expression of genuine concern, but with a fire of passion for healing their patient.

Thex nodded in reply. " Sounds simple enough. Wear the patch and try and keep my metabolic rate stable. There is something else I'd like to talk about doctor. "

"Fire when ready, Lieutenant Commander," the doctor replied.

" Well, you are aware of my people's fertility and chromosomal problems?" The andorian inquired.

Asa felt the immediate blush to their ears that speaking of fertility often caused, but maintained their composure otherwise, it was always so much easier to speak of such things in clinical terms, and thankfully their blue crewmate seemed to be speaking scientifically.

"Yes, the less-than-four-birthrate has caused a decline in Andorian population, and I am aware of the negative impact chromosonal testing has caused, as well as the natural issues existing. Why do you ask?"

" Well, I was wondering if I could arrange to have some of my eggs to be extracted. I know my family had some genetic engineering so I shouldn't be affected by the problems, but i still worry that i won't be able to have children." The andorian replied quietly.

The doctor took a deep breath, and mentally checked to ensure their face looked calm and understanding. Such a sensitive topic would not have been easy for the self-assured chief engineer to bring up.

"Of course we can do that. It will need to occur at a specific time in your natural rhythm for optimal effect, so I need to get a cycle-long reading of your daily hormone fluctuation. Would it be acceptable to add a hormone monitor to your dermal patch that will upload to the ship nightly?" Asa replied in a soft, but cool voice. They had a feeling the Andorian would respond better to a matter-of-fact-tone, and after all, no one likes pity.

"Of course doctor. " Thex replied calmly. " Do you want to take a blood sample so you calibrate the patch? My family's engineering has altered the pheromones we produce."

"An excellent suggestion," Asa replied brightly. "I confess, genetic engineering was a topic of interest to me when in the academy," the diminutive doctor moved while chattering to obtain a specimen collection container and needle. "OK, look away if you get queasy..." they said as they began preparing the needle.

The andorian rolled up her sleeve to allow the doctor to have an easier job. " I'll admit i don't know much about it. All i know about it comes from stories my great grandfather has told me."

Asa got a good vein on the first try and collected a small amount of blood. As soon as the collection was complete, they used the tricorder to heal the puncture wound. "I'll need an hour or so to double check the calibration, then I can send the specs to the replicator in your quarters if that works?"

" That's fine doctor. If you need any info just call and i'll help with whatever i can. " The andorian said as she slid off the bed.

"Thank you for coming in, and for your trust. I really appreciate both," Asa concluded with a smile touching their face.

It all started with the chime at the door of Maica II 47's Massage Parlor. It was listed on the ship's manifest as Physical Therapy room 7, but in Rita Paris' head it was the massage parlor. And she'd promised the captain- under duress, but a promise was a promise- that she would come get a massage from her wife, the Orion holographic entity that was a part of some sort of hive mind Rita still didn't quite understand, who manipulated like she breathed.

A promise was a promise.

Plus the EMH had refused to just pump her with drugs when she wrenched her shoulder in a Jeffries tube traffic accident. In a profession that often required running, jumping or climbing to save one's life, staying active on a starship could more easily be accommodated if one occasionally traveled by access ladder or via Jeffries tube. But while hustling through on a powerslide between decks, an engineering crewman had swung into her lane. While she had avoided impacting the crewman, the hard-luck heroine had wrenched her shoulder in the process. Nothing was broken or torn, but the muscle group and many of the connecting tendons were quite angry with her. Thus the Emergency Medical Hologram, who called her out on summoning him in an accessway like a dirty little secret, advised that she seek skeleto-muscular manipulation remedies.

Which meant a massage.

Of course, Sonak was a master of muscle manipulation. Manipulating her pressure points when she needed release was a specialty of his, and he could tune her like a cello. It would be no imposition to him, and his concern for her health and well-being dictated that he care for her. Which was terribly sweet and romantic to her mind. But she'd made a promise, and maybe this was life's way of telling her that she couldn't avoid the woman forever. Her feelings about Maica were complex, and Rita Paris had more questions than answers when it came to the photonic femme fatale.

Avoidance isn't how adults dealt with their problems, Rita she could hear her father's voice in her head, and she sighed, holding her left arm in her right and hunching a bit as she waited to see if the emerald-hued temptress would answer the door.

Rather than someone coming to the door, it opened automatically to reveal a waiting room decked out in red velvet and lit at roughly half of the outside corridor. The scent of spicy incense filled the room and a sound dampener was in effect as even the deck plating was completely silent. The main area was lined with couches and the walls were lined with the same red velvet drapes, but with gold trim. Off to the left was a double counter and a curtain that undoubtedly led to the massage areas. Three separate tea sets sat on one of the counters with fresh tea.

"I'll be with you in a moment! Help yourself to some tea!" came the call of the emerald skinned beauty from behind the curtain. She was apparently currently with another client.

In the wide and varied experience of the veteran Starfleet officer, as of yet she had never had to deliberately venture into an alien house of ill repute, unless running through one while fleeing angry natives counted. In which case she was currently at 5 as a career total.

The interior that greeted the supercentenarian space explorer was pretty much exactly as she would have imagined a massage parlor or similar bawdy house. Down to the scents, which were nice she had to admit. Exotic yet light, enticing without being too cloying. Inhaling, Rita paused. Orion females could do that whole pheromone thing or it was perfume, there was a lot of conflicting evidence and she hadn't done the research. Moving to flip her PaDD around to check, she forgot about the wrenched shoulder until it rather sharply reminded her of her injury.

"Gyk!" Rita stifled herself as pain lanced like lightning through her arm and shoulder, and it was starting to give her a crick in the neck to boot. Scooting for one of those couches, she hustled herself into a seat and focused her breathing. Panicking wouldn't help, just relax and immobilize. I should really go to sickbay... but to be fair, she did fix my sense of taste. Give non-invasive cures a try. Be broad-minded Earth girl explorer.

Laying back on the couch, Rita Paris pulled her arm up and focused her breathing, sliding into a meditative state.

After a few minutes, Maica and an Andorian crewman came out of the back room. "Thank you, you are a life saver."

"Any time. Just come back if it slips out again, ok?" Maica gave the main a quick hug as he nodded to the first officer and headed out of the massage parlor. "What can I do for you, Rita? You look stressed. Are you in pain? Or do you need a full body sensual massage with hot squid therapy?"

Refocusing on the world around her, Rita's brows came up in the middle. "I... think I would prefer not the hot squid therapy. Please. I just... I promised the Captain I'd come get a naked massage from you, and, ah. So. I wrenched my shoulder between Deck 14 and 15, and the Doctor said I should get a muscular therapy. Captain made me promise, so..."

"Two birds with one stone. You do seem to know your pressure point manipulation, so I have faith in your skills." That didn't address her reservation or anxiety, but she offered it as a testimonial to opening negotiations. The woman was by no means anything close to stupid or unobservant. Rita wore her emotions obviously and was terrible at hiding them, both a strength and a weakness. In short, she knew Maica would see that she was uneasy. But Rita couldn't help it- she was uneasy, it just showed.

Stepping over to Rita, the green hologram palpated gently, feeling the inflamed muscles and tender ligaments under the skin. "Hmm... Yeah, that's wrenched good. I think I have just the thing though." Pressing in a few neuro-pressure points, Maica began treatment right there. "I have a deep therapy system that I think you'll find quite helpful. Starfleet medical doesn't normally put it on anything but medical ships and starbases, but I have a more modern spa version that's made a bit nicer than they use anyway."

"You're the expert, ma'am. Lead on," Paris offered as she stood up, cradling her injured left arm with her right. "I really thought I was going to make that Tarzan swing around Crewman Entenman. I managed the swing, but the landing was off."

As Maica led Rita through the curtain into the massage room, she chuckled musically. "How does that saying go? You're only human? Lay down on the table face down for me and... hmm... You're a bit more well endowed than my table can handle, actually..." Tapping her lips with one finger, she thought about it for a moment. "I'll have to use more pads."

Opening one of the closets, Maica pulled out extra pads for the table and started stacking them as best she could, using herself to measure. Finally, she used an extra face hugging pillow for the top and nodded. "That should work. While you get comfortable, I'll get the system warmed up."

Experimentally moving her arm up to pull her uniform off, Rita turned a shade whiter and cradled it again. "Ah, no good, ma'am. We're going to have to cut it off, I don't think I can really manage wrestling out of it unless I am very determined, and this is not a life or death struggle at the moment. If you wouldn't mind, please? I can do it myself if you have some shears that'll do it?"

"Of course, hon. I'll get it for you." Maica looked around for something to cut with before heading out to the waiting room for the medkit. When she returned with it, she pulled out the laser scalpel and retuned it so she could cut Rita's uniform top off and slid one hand under the back, slicing straight up so she could just slip right out of it. "That should do it. Do you need help with anything else?"

Mildly embarrassed by standing around in her tights and boots, Rita realized she could manage the boots on her own, but the tights would be a wrestling match. Why all of this made her blush and become uneasy the neurotic navigator wasn't entirely sure, but it did and she just had to deal with it. "Ah, if you don't mind, the tights are going to be a pain one handed, and if you're offering, the boots please ma'am?" Rita turned her back to Maica to bend one leg at the knee, lifting her heel like a pony awaiting the ferrier.

"Of course," With a few deft movements, Maica had Rita de-booted and was stripping the tights off of her tenderly. "If it would make you feel any better, I'll strip as well so you're not naked alone."

"Ahhh, that's, that's more awkward, ma'am," Rita blurted out, busily doing a full-body blush. While she had gotten a little sun on her beachside honeymoon and still had tan lines, for the most part the starship native's skin tone was light. Seldom did her skin see ultraviolet light, so her skin was quite pale. Thus when she blushed, it was evident, particularly with the amount of skin on display. And Rita Paris was most definitely blushing.

"I'm, it's, I'm not used to being... I mean, I am, but... You're the captain's wife, ma'am, and I know, I know it's stupid and it shouldn't matter but it does, Maica, it does and it makes this all weird and... nobody sees me naked but Sonak, and I'm just, I don't know, I'm..." Rita, standing in her lacy grey matching panty and bra set clutched herself self-consciously.

"Old-fashioned, ma'am. I'm old-fashioned, we didn't, this would be SO improper back in my day, so... I'm sorry, I'm..." Rita took a deep breath. "It's my problem. Where... should I climb on, or...?"

Placing one hand gently between her shoulders, Maica guided her to the table, speaking softly as she did so. "Relax. Right now I'm not the captain's wife or a sentient hologram or any of that. Right now, I'm a medical professional and your masseuse. I'll take care of you and listen to your problems and I might offer some advice, like relaxing and not worrying about things like who I am or who you are right now because in here, they don't matter. All that matters is that you feel better, ok? Now just lie face down and I'll get you feeling better than you ever thought possible."

Stepping away for a moment, Maica started up some soft Tibetan singing bowls music and pulled out a cart with the deep therapy system, getting it ready for use.

There was protest to this, of course, but Rita put a cork in it. Laying down on the pile of cushions, she settled into the face pillow, and on the bright side, she couldn't see the Captain's wife this way. So there was that element removed, which made it a bit easier to follow the captain's wife's instructions. Wincing in pain as she settled in, Rita was once again reminded why she was here. Besides, she was the captain's wife- she couldn't afford to offend her, either.

Things certainly were simpler when the captain was a cocky love them and leave them playboy. But that was then, this was now. In the here and now the captain was married to an extension of a multibodied multidimensional being, who was mysterious and intimidating all her own. That was beyond Rita not wanting to screw up her relationship with the captain, which seemed pretty steady these days. At least she didn't have to worry about Sonak being jealous or weird about it. He would see the logic of her actions and approve. Best spouse in any timeline, Rita reckoned.

"So how does this work? I've never really had a massage, except coach in the Academy showing us how to loosen up our calves after a distance run. I was on the cross-country team. I was never the fastest, but I always finished," Rita rambled, as she tended to do when nervous.

"You've seriously never had a massage? That explains a few things..." Maica began by gently wrapping what felt like a warm, fuzzy pad around Rita's affected shoulder. She then pressed a few buttons on it and set it to working, letting it suck down to Rita's skin as it started to vibrate just slightly, the EM and pulse waves penetrating deep into the flesh to repair and massage it back to health.

As that did its thing, Maica started working on the back of the tense woman's neck, slowly working the tension out. "How it works is I use my hands to remove any and all tension from your muscles and you lay there and relax. Nothing more. Nothing less." Maica had an inkling that Rita was scared or intimidated by her and she didn't want that. She wanted Rita to trust her so she could give her the best massage she could.

"Yes ma'am," Rita replied to the floor. "I mean, Sonak does... I mean, he has extensive knowledge of anatomy and pressure points, and he knows where it hurts, of course, but that's.. not, a massage massage, that's... just Sonak," Rita said as if that somehow summed up the kolinahr master with whom she shared her life.

"It's different, I guess, because with him it is... ah, intimate. Ma'am." Internally Rita kicked herself. She was calling the woman ma'am more than she would an admiral. She had permission to use the woman's first... well, only name, because she'd liked Mrs. Telvan as something to call the captain's wife, but that had turned out to be wholly inaccurate and incorrect. Cheers to alien civilizations and customs. Instead she was stammering through trying not to be awkward in this situation in which she felt so awkward. This must be how Asa Dael feels most of the time, she realized with a grunted chuckle.

"Yeah, you're getting a proper massage today..." Maica muttered as she continued down Rita's neck into her shoulders, doing her best to work out as much of that pent-up stress as she could. "Speaking of which, I heard that that was quite the temporal shenanigan mischief that was pulled over your eyes by both Sonak and Enalia. I can't believe how well that worked out. If I wasn't a collection of sentient subroutines that shared my diary with my sisters every so often, that might be enough to make me question the existence of a higher power, you know?"

"Not a higher power... Just Sonak. Powerful beings exist in the universe, but none of them had anything to do with our reunion," Rita replied. After all, she'd never had faith in anything other than the power of the human spirit and, well, Sonak. "That was good old Starfleet teamwork and an... ow, that's tight... gnrk! Ahh... a lot of patience on the Captain's part. She knew, but she couldn't tell me or it might queer the deal. Now that her and Starfleet's plan worked I get to add 'participated in a predestinATION HOO HOO HOO THAT'S... oh... okay, okay that's better... predesitination paradox to my Starfleet career bingo card and frequent flyer membership."

The tension that Paris was carrying into the room was surprising. She had no tension that she carried for days, like most- she had a living filter who helped her process it daily, and in that regard she was surprisingly well adjusted. Instead what she had was the internally generated stress of the situation which, like most such situations, was much more about the apprehension and less about the situation or confrontation itself.

Maica moved down into Rita's back, massaging with the palms of her hands in circular motions, working out all that stress like dough as she talked. "That's true at least. In your case it was all mortal ingenuity and technology. In my other dimensional sister's case, it was apparently another sister of mine that's evolved to being a twelfth dimensional being that lives between the dimensions. She found some tech that the ship she was on was trying to use and instead of letting the ship drift between universes, she punched it into ours and dropped them here. Not too often you have a holy experience with a being that evolved from something almost identical from you. In a way, I envy her because of that... Maybe that's why she's different from the rest of us..." Maica trailed off as she continued the massage.

As the holographic woman spoke, each sentence resulted in more tension resisting her efforts, as the conversation confused and concerned the woman on the table. The fact that there were so many of them, invading realities and scouting them out was one thing, but the fact that one of them had evolved into a higher being and was now a... what, like a Trelayne? Another Hera? The thought was quite the opposite of reassuring to Rita, and she tried to not let it show. But Rita was, as known to nearly everyone around her, a bad liar, and her muscles and tendons were no better than her words at covering up her feelings.

"You're tensing up." Maica paused to check on the deep therapy system to find that it was almost done. "I said something... You... You think my sisters and I are the same people, don't you?" Realization dawned on her as she went back to massaging Rita's back, but a bit more gently for now, slight indignation in her voice. "We're all individuals. Some of us share similar features and we're all mostly from the same source code but that's it. The same could be said about you and all humans. My sister from another universe is no more a part of me than you are. That hyper-evolved being is the same and that contact was all there was. Our diary sharing is just that - we send letters like any family would. Is that so wrong?"

“That isn’t for me to judge, ma’am. You’re part of an extradimensional entity that’s frankly a little beyond my comprehension, a lifeform I only recently learned of, and don’t understand. I am trying to wrap my head around it but, as you remarked… I’m only human,” Paris admitted, though defending herself then putting Rita on the defensive definitely didn’t help change her opinion of the local version. Great, piss off the captain’s wife, great plan Rita….

"And you're a member of Starfleet from two universes. How is that any different?" Maica continued massaging, but wasn't sure where to go with the conversation past this point. She obviously wasn't a therapist and she wasn't trying to seduce Rita so trying to get her to understand that Maica was just a normal sentient, whether she was subroutines or DNA...

Well, that’s apples and oranges… Rita thought, but she could sense the woman growing frustrated with her, which wasn’t the point of the exercise at all. “I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just a bit beyond me. I apologize if me not understanding upsets you, it isn’t my intention. How did we get on this topic?” Which was certainly not one she had planned to broach, yet here they were talking about the version of her that’s a goddess somewhere.

"I thought talking about each of our experiences with our families and cross dimensional whats-its would be nice... I guess I was wrong. I'm not a therapist like my brother." Maica moved her massages deeper into Rita's back, pressing on her spine just right to loosen it up as she went.

“Mm, I picked up a lot in Starfleet Psych while I was there. Mixed blessing, really- now I understand and recognize people’s motivations and can translate their words and actions, but it doesn’t tend to bring me much joy. And sometimes I am just way off the mark. Can’t win ‘em all." Paris was silent for a moment, then ventured into the unknown, as she was wont to do. “So your family all get along?”

"Blessing and a curse then... We try to, but some of my siblings aren't the most social with the rest of us. The one that decided to live as a pillar of light, for example... They never write and we only get news from the temple monks they live with." Maica found a stubborn knot and worked at it with the but of the palm of her hand a bit longer.

“How many of there are you in your family?” That was an actual question, the answer to which Rita was genuinely curious. If this was number 47, how many had come since her? The family analogy started breaking down when you started examining it that way. Rita didn’t know any biological life forms who had forty-six siblings, forget about how many might be out there now. But only one way to find out.

"Well... There's mother and the Maica from another universe... They're on another level I suppose. Among us siblings, there are now forty nine of us. One of us has two kids - a sort of data share with an EMH created a pair of... They're still trying to self identify last I heard, so I'm not sure what to call them." Maica wasn't having the best of luck with Rita's lower back so she decided to go with another tactic and adjusted the corporeality of her hands. "This is going to feel odd." Reaching inside of Rita's spine, she massaged a bit, then popped a couple vertebrae before pulling her hands back out and resuming a more normal massage. "All done."

"Something about whatever you just did was familiar in a weird sort way," Rita reported. "I'm okay and I feel fine, but that was the weirdest deja vu. So your mother and the Maica of another universe- not the one who ascended, this is a different one?" Rita wasn't trying to be flippant, she was just trying to fill in the score card again, like usual. "They are the progenitors of your family?"

"The Maica from another universe is technically the same Maica that's my mother, but she didn't lose her android body so early and was able to get a new one built before it failed. She also never procreated. My mother lost her body early and took over her Ferengi creator's computers, killing him and taking over his business. She then started procreating, letting us go start our own lives with only minor direction. She's technically the third version of herself as well, while the Maica from another universe is the first version." Maica massaged down to Rita's gluts, making sure they were nice and relaxed as well.

"We really need individual names... Ok, my mother's designation is Prime. Mine is 47. The one from another dimension is a Starfleet Captain. The inter-dimensional being is like comparing yourself to Q. They're not a part of our race." Maica paused for a moment to consider what she just said. "Holy shit... We're our own race... No wonder this is confusing you... We're the Maica race..."

One hand waggled up from the prone pilot. "Congratulations ma'am. Kinda the way I'm leaning. I mean, you've procreated with an EMH, so you're what, fourth, fifth generation now? Sixth? And still evolving. Right now your entire society is all based on... well, it all goes back to Prime I guess. But if anything happens to her is there a backup plan for your society ma'am? Not being confrontational I promise... not with your hands still on my butt... just that if you are a family or a race, if she were cut off somehow from the rest of you, what would your sisters do?"

"We'd probably hold a funeral or something," Maica replied simply. "I doubt more than a dozen of us would attend though. Three, Seven, and Nine would probably take over her business. I know I wouldn't have much to do with it, other than the occasional family discounts I get on furnishings and foodstuffs already. What do humans do when a family member passes on?"

"Lots of things, often involving drinking. The point I am driving at is that if you are an evolving race then you should probably not rely on a family structure, but form a council of Maicas so there will be representation, healthy debate and a structure in place to form a society." The hand wagged offhandedly. "I'm probably breaking the prime directive by interfering with another race's development, but you kinda brought it up."

Maica chuckled softly as she massaged Rita's legs. "Seeing as we're an artificial race and warp capable, I don't think the Prime Directive applies. As for our structure, we mostly just do our own thing. I'm thankful for being activated, but that's about where it ends. If we ever get to the point there are hundreds or thousands of us, enough might want to stick together to build a society, but for now we're just a race of people in the Federation that call Maica Prime our source code."

"Depending on your perspective there I think, ma'am. Isn't the original Maica a supra-genius or something, extremely adaptable, all that? Aren't all of you possessed of similar capabilities as her... I do not know if the words that come to mind are insulting, so... reproduction?" Copy just hadn't sounded polite at all, and Rita wasn't going to mention just how prolific they could decide to be since biology didn't get in the way. "I mean, Vulcans are smart but they have to learn to apply it. You just kind of... emerge... fully realized, don't you?"

The emerald skinned beauty burst into a full belly laugh as she moved down to Rita's feet. "Holy shit, when you put it that way you make it sound like we're perfect beings. Hell no. My first time trying to cook, I burnt a pan of water. It took me two weeks to learn how to function as an adult, even with all the knowledge in me compiling away. If I ever decide to procreate digitally, my offspring has to be at least twenty percent different, but I'd rather find a way to have a child with Enalia and besides, a digital child would take away from who I am in a way. Also, I have hopes and dreams that none of the rest of my family have. I'm good at reading body language and good at homeopathic medicine and massage but horrible at so many other things. For instance I can't tell you the first thing about Vulcan philosophy other than it's based around logic and has something to do with computers."

"Just logic. But using the brain as a computer, so you're correct on botch counts Maica. Is it fun having a numeric as part of your name? Do you use foreshortenings? I guess you doooOOooohhh," that was the moment where the preparatory work Maica had in the calves set up the foot that spent hours in a well-structured and supported and custom fitted high heel boot, but a high heel boot all the same.

Maica went all out on her foot massages and the one she was giving Rita was no exception. She made sure to hit all the right pressure points just right. "What I'm trying to get at is that even though my mother is a far more complex being that runs an information brokerage and shipping business that spans half the quadrant, I only talk to her a couple times a month at most and it's normally about business. I talk to my siblings even less. We're not as close of a family as you might think."

"Okay, okay," the earth girl who was in an admitted state of bliss while the USS Hera's mistress of masseuse went to work on her beleaguered tootsies. "You are to me an alien culture, and I am an explorer. I try to understand your culture by asking questions. If you ask in return, our cultures exchange. It doesn't always work that way though, which is fine. But to seek knowledge we must ask questions. Please don't stop doing what you are doing riiiiight now, please, I beg of you."

Maica kept at it - her foot massages were legendary on the Hera, after all. "Human culture is well documented, but sentient holograms aren't, though. Did you know that Captain Maica speaks mostly in innuendo? I assume my mother did at one point as well, but it's kind of crazy listening to her. I can only imagine her crew having to hear her order them shoot the phasers all up in the enemies backside or something crazy like that. I mean, it's a hospital ship... But you know what I mean."

"Precisely my point, madame. Human culture is well documented, but yours is not. How will it be documented if not for those who explore your culture? To strive to understand we must ask questions. That's why I am trying to get to know you, to know all of the wondrous and varied life forms on this incredible starship of the future that picked up a hitchhiker. That's why we're out here. The mission statement of the five-year missions... to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life, new civilizations. To boldly go where no man has gone before!"

Maica giggled musically as she continued the foot massages. "Then ask away. I'll explain anything you want to know. By the way, in a few weeks, I'm supposed to receive an order from one of my brothers. He's had some trouble getting a shipment of some foodstuffs for me but he's assured me he'll have everything soon. If you want to meet Nine..."

"Ahaaaaaaoh that's really very nice... I mean, yes, so the numeric system is the naming convention between one another?" Rita paused to roll her ankle, at which point the experienced homeopathicist offered her the stretch that she was really after, and Rita moaned as her eyes crossed. "I'd very much like to meet your brother. Maica IX?"

"I'll warn you though... He's a... What's the word? Player? Man-whore? One of your metatarsals are out of place. This will feel odd." Again, Maica changed her density and reached inside of Rita. This time she twisted around on one of the bones in her foot until it popped back into place before pulling her hand back out. "There we go. That should make walking in those heeled boots a little easier."

"Not too much fixing down there... I need these little piggies in their traditional order to survive those heels of mine. It still amazes me that women don't take advantage of them as part of the uniform these days. And not a skirt to be found, despite the fact that it's an option. I really don't understand the female officers of this era in that particular aspect." There was a pause, then Rita added, "I'm glad the captain let me keep my uniform. It's funny, no one asks about it except to make sure they don't have to wear one."

"It probably has something to do with how hard they hammer the safety courses in the Academy. Your skirt can get caught in a lot of things on the ship if you're not careful." Maica finished up the foot massage and moved on to the shoulder that didn't have the deep therapy system on it to work on that arm. "It's also got a lot more regulations attached to it. It has to be pressed on every pleat and a lot better maintained than the standard uniform. Plus the leggings show off every imperfection."

"Guess I'm just used to it," Rita semi-shrugged. "never slowed me down. So the diary that you keep... how does that work? That's something that I still don't understand, if you don't mind discussing it?"

Maica had massaged out to Rita's hand and was working her wrist and palm now."Sure. It's just like a normal diary. We write down things we've learned and how they make us feel and every so often we send them out to Mother who then sends them out to us as a way to keep in touch since none of us are that good at writing letters to each other. It's not like we're sharing actual memories or data. It's more like personalized Starfleet reports than anything. If you want to read a few of my entries... I suppose I could let you..."

"That is... very generous of you ma'am, but that doesn't seem necessary. Apparently I had a rather vast misconception over how that works, but I don't want to pry into your diary. Particularly if it is literally your diary, because that's very personal. I guess..." Rita sighed. "Everything is so complex here, I expected the living hologram that was part of an emerging race had to be more complex too... I guess? Blame it on the throwback, ma'am. The future is sometimes very complicated, except when it's not."

Maica giggled again as she switched to the other arm, switching the deep therapy system off and pulling it off of Rita's shoulder. Palpating the are tenderly, she checked it over to make sure it was fully healed. "Sometimes simplicity is best, especially when you want to maintain individuality. I mean, what if someone put a virus in one of our memories and found a way to wipe out most of us?" Macia then moved on to massage that last arm and hand.

"Are you and the rest of the Maicas that well-known in this century? I know there are a lot of you who seem to be strategically placed across the universe, but is enough known about you for someone to want to do that? An act such as that would need motivation, forget about the difficulty of execution," Paris countered. "Holographic life forms have only existed within the Federation for what, about 20 years now?" While what she didn't know could fill volumes, Rita did look facts up on a regular basis, and this was one she had put a little research into.

"I'm sure you're just being paranoid, Maica," Rita sighed. Which, as with so many such statements, would come back to haunt her...

McBain had slept not very much between the projects he was working on and the research to be prepared for the away team. He knew Frenchie who was to meet him here was also on a team. This MACO was a great asset but it took some getting used to so that was why he was here. To make sure the Security Chief could use the features of her armor. McBain had two replicated Tr-116 battle rifles for this as well. The Chief was likely to be a shooter on the team she was on. That made the battle rifle a primary tool for her. He sat down at the beginning of the course and rested while he waited.

As French made her way to the training area, she thought about her good friend Alex Sexton. Little did she know, he was already on board the USS Hera. But she would find out soon enough. She entered the training area and saw McBain. "McB, you ready to do this?" She asked.

McBain nodded with a smile, handing her a TR116c battle rifle. "Going to toss you in at the deep end Lieutenant. Your a leader and lives depend on you so I will be tougher on you than others." He continued smiling, "it is not personal, I just see this as necessary considering the time we have before it gets real." He raised his own rifle, "watch than repeat what I did." He held the rifle at port arms and cleared the chamber, checked the barrels than returned the weapon to port arms. He had no idea how much she knew so he began at the beginning. As he saw how well she did he would push on to the next thing.

Seregon had a knack for going along with her trainers and then at the end showing then that she could and would master a thing or two. There was an old drill called the 16 step manual of arms. So when they took a break, she tried to see if she remembered it.

So she began at the position of attention. With the butt of the weapon on the deck, she snatched it up to port arms and then right shoulder arms. Then to left shoulder arms, then to port arms and then to present arms just before going to inspection arms opening what would have been the exit port on an older weapon, clearing the weapon and then going back to port arms and back down to order arms. It was a bit difficult with this weapon, but it worked. Several of the security force looked on as she performed the routine with very little difficulty. Then the clapping started. She smiled and ordered them to chill out!

"I don't expect you all to be able to do that, but if you want to learn it, stay after class and I will teach it to you. Now let's let McBain clear us do we can move on!" Said French

Mcbain nodded letting those present have their moment. After all confidence was important. He activated the program and a town appeared nearby. The buildings were in ruins and things moved in the shadows. Above a few buildings harpies stood on roofs waiting to launch. "Your objective is to get across town to the transport. Anyone who reaches the transport succeeds. There are non-hostiles so watch what you shoot at. The bullets and weapons are in the program so to display the enemy forces toughness."

McBain activated a Minotaur silhouette Weak points are eyes, nose, throat and chest over the heart, elbows and knees. Hit the head and might as well be throwing spitballs, high in the chest, sides, back, the thick hide will deflect most hits. They are strong and fast but not really agile. Letting them get a run than get out of the way might work." McBain next showed a harpy, These can fly and are very quick. They will evade incoming fire. They can be wounded and once wounded slow enough to take down. Last are these statues and I have very little data on them. My advice is to take out their eye gems and disable their beam weapon. Other than that I think grenades at the ankles might topple them? That is all I have for now. Lieutenant and your first four on the line." McBain shrugged once you cross the line the scenario begins."

Seregon took her cue from McBain. "Ok listen up. Remember the first time we were gassed in the academy. You had to have faith in your gas mask. Well this is no different. Your suit have advantages, use them. Crewman, you and I will jump above the Minataurs and once past them, a shot to the base of the neck in the back. We're trying to snap the back bone. And when we land, role into a ready position to shoot Harpies and then again at the Minataurs. You two crewmen shoot harpies from the moment we cross the line. Once we have shot at those two monsters twice, we concentrate all our fire power on the statues and then again on the Minataurs if they are still a problem. Ok?" And she got a head nod from all three. "Ok, stack on me. Weapons hot. Let's do this on 3.2.1" and all hell broke lose!

As soon as the team crossed the line minotaurs on both sides charged forward with impatient zeal, heads down protecting their vitals they came at the group strong and fast. The harpies screamed and launched into the air. One crewman was hit by a beam from a statue on his third step and frozen in place, simulating being turned to stone.

So Frenchie and three of her team left! Upon seeing the one member hit, French rolled behind cover and regrouped. The baddies were turning around for the second attack. French took out a statue and barely ducked from getting hit. She leaped high and shot a harpie before landing mere feet from a Minataur. So close it was hard to miss hitting him in the eyes. One down and one to go. The other crewman had taken down both Harpies now and there was one Minataur and a couple statues. The other Minataur was in the process of getting a head of steam when he got blasted from two sides..that's when all three crew members went down, hit by statues!

"Damn it, we almost had em!" Freaking horse shoes and hand grenades, she thought to herself. "Reset and let's go again!" She yelled.

The scene reset immediately All those wounded were back on their feet with maybe a light bruise. The minotuars were deeper back now and the harpies this time were not in view. People in windows were merely shadows so if they were a threat or a innocent was not easy to determine. "The scene will not play the same way twice. Remember single shots will not put any of these things down, three shot bursts and keep firing. The replicators in the rifles should last for hundreds of shots. Ready?" He looked at Frenchie "cross the line and it begins anew."


This time nothing charged right at them, the statues began firing those beams right down the middle of the street forcing the team to move into the flanks, splitting the group The pair away from Frenchie were hit from the first building as two Minotaurs charged them through the walls with three harpies leaping down from above. This was an ambush scenario!

They were beat again. Seregon was getting pissed! So she ordered the scene set again.
They stacked on the Lt. They all moved well together in this shoot don't shoot scenario. Weapons at the ready, they could hear the first Minataur before they could see it. This time with confidence up, it was almost unfair to the monsters. As soon as the first Minataur was visible the group volley fired on it taking it down. Then the aimed for all the statues at once, taking all of the but two with grenades, like McBain had suggested earlier. Harpies were in the air but could not get close. The group was tight and engaged monsters simultaneously in all direction, u till there was only one Minataur left. They made it to the end of the street, but between them and the shuttle was no mean don of a bitch Minataur. As he leveled himself on them and began to charge. A handgrenade went off at his feel causing him to raise up slightly. Making most of his volunarble spots easy targets for Seregon and one of the other crewmen. As they unloaded on the beast, it's nostrils flared and it bellowed. Another golly of fire and a grenade did the trick. Just as they thought they were clear. A window opened and bolts of what looked like lightening flew at them. They were hit but not out. As they unleashed holy hell on the figure in the window. Falling forward over the plain to safety.

McBain released the security teams and looked at Frenchie. Once alone he asked, "So you knew how to use the armor, and you knew how to use the battle rifle. So why did you still need me?"

Seregon smiled. "I needed to know that you are the real deal and you are. Also, even the best need a refresher from time to time. And you gave me my confidence back. I've been out of action for a while. And things change. Reading up on something is not the same as doing it. I needed this and you delivered. That's why. Are we cool?" She asked.

"Sure." McBain smiled, it came easy to him. "You were honest with me, if you had lied than no we would not be cool. Okay now which do you prefer Gladius (three foot double edged straight blade), or a German hunting saber (another three foot blade but curved, both have a point). Or do you prefer two weapons? You wanted a refresher time to give it a go." Mcbain took one of the sabers himself and moved off away from Frenchie. "The armor gives us an advantage but not much as these guys are very strong. I was taught to move and that appears true here as well. Movement is survival, stop moving and you die."

McBain crossed the line at a run. He leaped horizontally letting a beam pass under him. He landed lightly with a forward roll but spun away to the left as another beam struck where he might have been if he stood straight up. He moved out of view of the statues behind the houses. A Minotaur came around the house from the other side but McBain leaped to the roof. He ducked under a winged claw of a harpy and slashed up under the same wing almost severing it. McBain slashed the harpy from behind as he moved behind her almost severing her head. He took two running steps and leaped over the Minotaur. It charged trying to gore him andhe spun away slashing the Minotaur behind the knee cutting the tendons. The beast swung around leading with a massive backfist. McBain stayed low under the swing and slashed the femoral artery of the other leg. He continued on his way as the Minotaur tried and failed to pursue. He did a forward roll and than leaped into the transport.

Now standing beside Frenchie once more. Keep in mind there are no points for a kill, only for survival and completing the mission. Which is to get to the transport alive." Mcbain was still breathing hard as he waved for her to go. "Your turn."

"Give me a minute." And she walked over to her bag and pulled out a small padd. Finding the item she wanted, she tapped the site to site tab and a packaged was transported to their location. The box was rectangular and about 4.5 ft long. It was black with a felt type finish. When she opened it McBain saw a Sword that he immediately would recognize being the weapons officianoto that he was. Seregon reached down and picked it up. Anyone could tell that she had used it before.

"The weapon of the Samurai. Razor sharp and deadly. This is my blade of choice." As she strapped it to her back so she could reach it during combat. "Now I'm ready." She said taking on a completely different persona. There was no doubt, that she was dangerous.

Everything about her had changed, it was like the blade transformed her into a modern day Samurai, a term she had heard Alex use several times.

McBain shook his head "Lieutenant, you were at the briefing. You do realize that beautiful katana will barely scratch those things. They are more dense than steel. They have some magical quality in their hides. It was why I went to LT sh'Zoarhi to have these shorter blades made. They are far less elegant but the thicker, heavy blades allow for the tungsten/rhenium wire." He held up the Gladius and the hunting saber. “I also requested a couple war axes. They are heavy but the armor enhancement helps with that. The thing is those heavier blades are easier to balance and allow room to add in the dense wire material." McBain felt bad for her but he shrugged "if we had adamantine I would have asked for longer blades." McBain was glad he had suggested this melee session now, if she had gone on mission with the Katana she would have been ineffective at best and at worst dead.

Seregon heard his protest. But she wanted to see what she could do. If they did not work. So be it. After she failed miserably she conceded. “You were right. It won’t work. Let’s try it your way. “

McBain showed her two short swords he had made by the Chief Engineer already. One was a double edged Gladius stabbing sword. The other was a hunting saber with a slashing blade, but also pointed. Both blades had a section of the dense tungsten/rhenium wire affixed to the cutting edges. "I prefer the saber weapon myself as I want to be moving as much as possible. You are welcome to either blade or both."

Seregon took the doubled edged blade and went to work. Immediately taking out the statues closet to her before getting a piece of the first Minataur and bouncing off that one in the right direction I might add to the second Minataur over its head and dealing a devastating blow to the base of its neck and the top of its spinal cord bringing it to a staggering stop. Head flailing from side to side she left it in favor of the two harpies that were now in pursuit. She hit one head on and just about cut it in half taking the other by surprise and hitting it as well. She herself hit the ground and rolled. Up until now she had spent most of het time airborne and dealing death and destruction. She rolled and sprinted for the safety of the transport taking a swing at the last operational statue as she went. Success!

"How you like me now?" She asked with an attitude to boot!

McBain just smiled and walked over the the holo deck controls. "With the right weapon, you'll be alright. You got skills!" Said McBain and turned and left the holo deck!

A smile was on Thex face as she stepped into the empty officer's mess. She was tired after a long shift working on reinforcing the interior bulkheads and doing some repairs to the one that had she had damaged in the last encounter. Her skintight engineering catsuit was stained with some burns and the buff around her head was stained with more liquid. Now the andorian wanted to get something to drink and eat and then go and get cleaned up. She walked over to the replicator and began to look through the menu.

French walked into the officers mess and headed straight for the replicator. There was an engineer in front of her making a choice. She listened and decide to have what she was having.

" Large nachos and chilli along with a large whiskey and coke." Thex asked after scrolling for a short time.

"Can you make that two of those please, I'm on a tight schedule." Said French

" Make it two." The andorian said as she turned her lieutenant commander's pips clearly visible. " Hello there I don;t believe we've met."

"Oh, sorry Cmdr. I meant no disrespect. I'm just in need of something to eat and drink. I'm Seregon French chief Security Officer, at your service." She said just as the two dishes were ready.

" You can leave the formalities alone French. We're all equal in the mess hall." Thex said as she handed the new crew her meal before talking her own. " So hows the girl treating you French?" She politely asked.

Assuming she was referring to the Hera."I'm learning my way around just fine. Getting used to the new Marine EVA suits is a small challenge but all in all I'd say, yeah. I'm doing all right." Said French

" Well if you need any of them altered just let me or my team know. Always willing to help." The andorian replied as she took a seat by the window.

"Cheers for that." And French took a swig of her drink. "Now that hit the spot." And she dug into her meal. After chewing a bit, she spoke. "How long you been on board?" Asked French

" Around a year or so. She's a good ship and even with the missions we've been tasked with dealing with I wound't want to be anywhere else." Thex replied politly.

"I'm getting that feeling from everyone I've come across so far. That's a good thing." and she stood up. "I'm going to get another drink, you want something?" asked Seregon

" Another one of these," Thex replied as she held up her bottle after downing the last of her drink.

After getting the two new drinks, French ambled bak over to where they sat. "After this, I think Im just going to go and take a nap. Its been a long day." she replied

" I'll be going back to my room and get myself cleaned up. Maybe see if a holodeck free and see if i can get in some dancing or swimming." Thex replied as she opened the bottle with the tables bottle opener.

"Now that sounds like fun. Or I have a couple Holo concerts that you might enjoy. Or even a ride on some vintage motorcycles?" aske French

" Sounds interesting. What concerts do you have?" Thex inquired.

"I'm a fan of an old crunier call Frank Sinatra. Twentieth century stuff. And I've got another with A Barry White. They called the King of the Baby makers cause he was so seductive in his songs!"

" Not heard off him though i'll take a listen. Don't know how poular it would be on andor we do have four sexes." The andorian replied with a grin.

Seregon’s eyes opened wide. She had heard rumours but never experienced anything like that.
“That’s interesting. You’ll have to tell me how that works. “ and she smiled

" Well in its simplest form it like this. There are two male sexes the Thaan and the Chan. Both of these provided the seaman to fertilise the shen egg which is then passed to the zhen where the embryo grows to term." Thex explained. " I know it sounds a rather dumb way of reproducing especially with the chromosomal problem and shrinking numbers."

“That’s very involved. Human reproduction is so simple. Man and woman. They have sex egg fertilised and bam you got a human. “ said French

" I know my species must have fallen out of the evolutionary tree to end up with this mess. I hope the federation medical corp can find some way of getting us out of this mess. My patch isn't going to help the species out very much. Especially with my dating skills being very low." Thex replied with a slight grin on her face.

"You, I haven't been on a date since I killed my last one!" And she began to laugh historically

" You what?" Thex replied feeling slightly shocked at the womans reply.

Still laughing, "It's a long story, but the short version is, I was under over on a mission to catch a sex slave outfit and I fell in love with the leader. One of my team got caught in the net we spread and he found out she was an agent and killed her. So when I went to arrest him, he resisted and I descentergrated his ass! And he deserved ever bit of it." Said Seregon and got ahold of herself. "Don't worry, the investigation cleared me." And she took a sip of her drink.

" Well, that's something. I was the tech side of an operation against the orions once. Didn't see much other than the time i had to sort out one of the new bugs. I had to learn a few of the dancing moves though i didn't need to use them." Thex replied remembering her own past.

"My guy wasn't Orion Syndicate. But he was Orion. Which is part of the reason I was in seclusion for two years. Fleet wanted to make sure there was no one after me. To that end they even let me have my own security detail. The guy who looked after me was called Alex. Very mysterious, I was told he was a bad ass. But if that's true, he kept it to himself. Nothing but nice nice nice around me, kinda like a brother to me to be honest!" Said French, her second drink taking hold quickly.

" And now you're here. Whatever happened to Alex? " Thex inquired polity.


"The last time we spoke, he was deciding where he wanted to be. We got our choice of duty stations after that mission. But I guess he's at the fleet. I know he was starting an investigation just before I left. Something about an Admirals wife. It's my hope that he comes here. But I drove him nuts worrying about me over the last two years. But you never know with him, he is a creature of habit." Said French hoping like hell he might opt to join her on the Hera.

" I'm sure you will. The universe has a very strange habit of bringing people back together. " Thex replied honestly having had that phenomena happen to her quite a few times.

"That would be something to look forward to actually." And she finished her meal.

" Well, only time will tell I guess. " Thex replied having finished her own food.

"I'll see you around ok? I got to get ready for my next meeting." Said French

" Take care." Thex said as french stood up and left the room.

French was thinking at that moment that this as a very nice officer she just met.

McBain stopped at the door of the lounge. He went over the time in his head, his appointment had been nearly an hour. So she would be off duty at 1800hrs. She would most likely change, so what another half hour? Maybe an hour? It was now 1835hrs so he swallowed the nervousness and entered the lounge. He knew few people, he had been very busy since coming aboard. He went to the bar area to give him a chance to check out the crowd. To see if Avendar was there, if she was alone, hoping if she was there she might give him a sign he should approach. McBain did not have much in the way of civilian attire. Right now he was wearing khaki pants, a button shirt and his leather flight jacket. He wore running shoes that were almost stylish. He almost never drank so he ordered a soda from the bartender. He ignored the look he knew he would get, he had nothing to prove in that regard. He had never felt getting plastered had anything to do with manhood. He looked over the tables as he listened to the background music in the room.

Avender had a lovely dinner. Her seat next to the window gave her a wonderful view of the stars. She now relaxed while reading all of the documents in her "welcome aboard" packet. She knew she'd have to learn about all of the crew. That would take time. Still, she had two appointments already today.

She saw McBain enter the bar, but she knew he didn't see her. She decided to have just a little fun. She asked her server to get that man at the bar whatever he was drinking, but make it "very cold" and tell him it's 'nice and frosty.'

We'll see if he can take a second hint. she thought.

A Server in the lounge tapped McBain on the arm and offered him a coke in a frosted glass. "I was told to offer you this nice and frosty beverage. Enjoy." McBain took the drink and watched the Server continue past. He had only spoken to a few people so far. He knew of only three he had mentioned his call sign to. The XO Commander Paris, the medic Dael and the Chief Counselor Avendar. He began looking around but did not see the slim Medic or the busty XO? He was mostly looking for Avendar however, after all she was the reason he was there. He was seldom curious but she had intrigued him. He had expected her to be upset after listening to his 'confession'. He sort of thought of talking to Counselors in that way, like he was baring his soul? Anyway she had sort of flirted with him and he was curious if she liked him or was just using her counselor tricks to get more information from him. He suspected the latter but was interested in the former.

Avender saw McBain looking everywhere but at her. She smiled and thought I thought pilots were supposed to be observant. She also thought about telepathically nudging him, but didn't want to use her skills for something frivolous. No, she thought, lets see how interested he really is. I'll simply wait... She adjusted her long teal dress slightly to show off just a little more cleavage, just in case he saw her.

McBain had been searching among the people moving about as he was thinking Avendar would have just arrived? Most women he had met needed time to change after all. He had not seen her among those near the bar or moving about so had began looking at the nearest tables first. She was a Counselor so he suspected she would be more centrally located so people would spot her more easily. That did not give any positive results so he began scanning the outer tables. Maybe she was one of those that sat in a more remote area to recoup after a days work? He spotted her almost immediately near the wall with a portal looking into space just beyond her. It framed her well like she was in a portrait. She was wearing a long Teal dress with a good bit of cleavage revealed.

The way she was sitting with a PaDD in her hand was quite a picture. Normally he would have looked and appreciated the view before going on his way. She had sort of invited him so he walked over with both cokes in hand. He stopped across from her with a smile, raising both glasses slightly "I was thinking this was an invitation to come join you." His smile grew wider "after all I could see why you might think me too dense to join you on my own. You have had a long look into my behavior." He tilted his head "if I am wrong I understand and will just be on my way." He might be one of the most confident people in the Galaxy when confronted with some danger. Facing a beautiful woman though was a chink in his confidence that was all too obvious.

Avender smiled and fixed her black Betazoid eyes upon him. "Won't you join me? Please sit down," she said.

The rough and tumble macho pilot does have a weakness, apparently. How cute! This could be fun! she thought.

McBain sat down opposite her his eyes not really leaving hers. He moved well even while distracted. "I admit I was looking for you but I was not sure you really wanted me to join you. The frosty coke was a clever invite though." McBain sipped the coke before continuing. "Since you are not working what do we talk about Avendar?"

"As I've read your file, I know all about you. You could always ask ME questions. Or not. After all, you're the confident man." She smiled broadly then sipped her drink.

"Excellent point. I guess the first question is me having dinner with you going to cause someone to be justifiably jealous." McBain raised an eyebrow "I have a thing about not hanging out with married women, or even women with a significant other. That is unless that other person is present least ways. I have enough problems without making more problems for other folks."

Avender smiled, maybe a touch sadly. "There was someone. He was assimilated by the Borg. He's currently in the Delta Quadrant. And besides," she raised her eyebrows, "I've already had dinner. You are late."

He had certainly miscalculated that, She had changed and eaten in a little more than a half hour! Something to remember she did not take long to get ready to go out. McBain nodded his head covering the time he was thinking "I do apologize Avendar for being late. I made an error in my calculations obviously. I am sorry to hear of your misfortune as well. It has to be very hard on you knowing he is sort of alive but maybe forever gone just the same. I have never been really attached to anyone but I am not unaware of the feelings of loss." He thought of his sister, someone he knew of but had rarely been able to even visit. He knew that was not even close to what Avendar most be feeling.

McBain's attitude and bearing shifted in barely discernible manner. No longer did he see her as a possible hot date, as she was in pain. His eye now looked at her as a possible friend who might need someone to talk too. "I know you just came aboard as I have, were you on a ship or base before? As you know I just came from the Academy, so I was anxious to get back out among the stars."

Avender looked down at her drink for a moment. She took a sip, then placed it on the table a few inches in front of her, leaving a clear view of her ample cleavage. She then looked back at the man across from her, as she slowly ran her finger around the edge of the glass. "Yes, this is my third assignment. I was previously assigned to a starbase, then to a hospital ship. This is my first assignment on a exploration vessel."

She leaned forward just a little bit. "And I was teasing. All I've had is a piece of fruit. I'm still up for dinner if you are." She flashed a mischievous smile.

McBain noticed how she kept making her cleavage more pronounced and smiled. He was a guy and he needed little incentive to look where she wanted anyway. His eyes returned to hers when she mentioned she had not eaten "I would be honored. Are you ready to order or do you need a menu?" He looked around once he spoke to see if there was wait staff? "Come to think of it I don't even know if they have servers in here, this is the first time I was in the lounge." He laughed easily. If no one shows up I will walk over to the bar and find out how you order a meal in here?" His first assignment had been on a patrol class destroyer and they had no lounge staff except at the bar. His second assignment had been a strike carrier and they had some staff in the lounge but he had mostly eaten in the mess hall back then. He saw someone who looked like wait-staff and waved for them to come to their table. He glanced over at Avendar. "If I make a fool of myself feel free to laugh."

"Ok, as long as you do the same, we have a deal!" She said, laughing.

Luckily for McBain the person was a waitress and she did have menus. She offered one to each person "Will you be having a drink while you wait?"

McBain shook his head "I already have but Avendar anything for you?"

Avender raised her glass and said "I'll have another of these, please."

The waitress nodded "right away, I can take your order when I return." She walked away to get the drink.

McBain looked at the menu "I think I am going for a real meal, pork chops, twice baked potato, broccoli steamed in soy sauce." He smiled as he realized he had not eaten a big meal in many days. "How about you Avendar, see anything you like?"

"That sounds interesting. I think I'll have the same. I really don't know much about your planet's cuisine, aside from the desserts that is."

Avender sat back a bit to a more relaxed pose. "Humans tend to forget that Betazoids may look like them, but we are different species. After all, you evolved from primates, and we evolved from amphibians." She looked thoughtful. "And yet our species are sexually compatible..." she said, her voice trailing off.

"I understand we are different and also compatible." McBain felt the heat in the room rising and felt foolish. She was so totally out of his league. Not only that but she had someone, someone she still cared about. It was wrong to think of her in a sexual manner when she was vulnerable to her past. He swallowed the lump in his throat as she was very enticing. He could not figure this out as she had to know even without her mental abilities that she was turning him on. She was all woman after all. Thankfully the waitress dropped off her drink before he said anything stupid. "If I may? The lady has decided to have the same meal as me. Could you bring us two Pork chop dinners. Both with twice baked potatoes and broccoli steamed in soy sauce. I believe we will order a dessert later as well."

The waitress nodded and left not writing down such a simple order.

McBain watched her walk away briefly before turning back to Avendar. "I admit I have met very few Betazoids. Do you enjoy dancing? I think we could find a place over there where we could give it a go if you would do me the honor. McBain did like to dance. It also gave him a reason not to talk too much and make a fool of himself. He stood offering her his arm.

Avender looked up at the tall man and leaned forward a bit. "Don't we have a delicious dinner of pork chops coming?" she said in slightly mocking tone. She smiled mischievously again.

"That we do, that we do." McBain repeated himself stalling for time. Being around her and not drooling like an idiot was not all that easy. Keeping his eyes on her eyes was not really all that good of an option as he could get lost in those dark orbs. The whole point was he was trying to behave like a gentlemen. "Still I believe the key here is they are coming. As in not here as yet?" Mcbain let a smile escape, that was a good line, he was mighty pleased with himself for that one! "Maybe a dance around the floor will help build a better appetite." He noticed her cleavage and his face began to redden a bit. His eyes leaped back to hers trying to behave "you know for the food?" Well so much for being cool and suave under pressure!

"I think that you just have NO idea what to say to me, and that you are scared stiff," Avender said. "That's not my professional opinion, though. After all," she said, "I'm off duty." She giggled and used her left hand to flip her hair off her shoulder.

McBain nodded and sat back down. "Guilty as charged. I find I often ask that one wrong question. The question that makes the person I am speaking to the least comfortable. For instance I saw no ring or visible show of you having a significant other so I asked trying to be humorous if there was someone. Only to find out it was a callous question. I think you are a very attractive lady. I am trying to not make a fool of myself by staring at your obvious assets. You have likely already figured out I don't spend much time social with people, let alone beautiful women." McBain took a deep breath, "I am not smooth Avendar but I am honest. If you would rather I take my dinner to another table I completely understand."

"I'll take honest over smooth anytime," Avender replied. "And thank you for the compliment."

She lifted her glass as if to toast him. "Don't you feel at least a little more comfortable having gotten that elephant out of the room?"

"Admitting I am a social pariah?" McBain laughed softly lifting the coke she had sent to him at the bar. "I will enjoy your toast Avendar. I can not say I feel a lot more comfortable but you seem happy so I will consider it a good sign." He glanced over to be sure no one was near enough to listen before facing her. "Would you tell me one thing. In the spirit of honesty. Do you do that posing of your cleavage to everyone or just guys like me? Guys who are so totally socially inept." He felt it a fair question, it might be something she just did. Like the way he moved deftly through a room due to hours of training. He was curious if it was just a natural thing or she was trying to attract him. Not that she need even try on that score.

Avender laughed. "So direct!" She leaned forward. "Well, Frosty, a girl has to keep some secrets doesn't she? I wouldn't have hinted for you to join me if I didn't wish you to do so. Unless I make you too uncomfortable?"

The position she took was not lost on him and he shook his head. "I will take your reply as permission to enjoy the view." His smile grew as he looked back to her eyes. "The only part that made me uncomfortable was trying to be polite and not be rude." McBain was sure he had been losing the fight there anyway. "You see I do enjoy being around you so I did not want to make a bad impression." Having said that it was easier not to focus his eyes on her breasts, which surprised him. "So what do people talk about? Wait I can think of something! What do you like to do to relax? Do you like hiking for instance? I am an outdoors kind of person but I do enjoy reading history."

"I meditate to relax. I love nature, and my holodeck programs reflect that. I also have become quite knowledgeable about history. Having worked at Temporal Investigations, I've had to learn a lot. I've even met some historical figures! Well, from certain timelines."

The dinners arrived. Avender looked at the pork chops and asked "so how do terrans eat this? With utensils, with our fingers?"

McBain picked up his knife and fork "the nice thing about pork chops is you can eat them as you like. Since I have veggies I will use the utensils, but say if they were barbecued and I had frys as a side dish. I would just use my fingers. I knew a MACO back in the day would get barbecued ribs and wear a white shirt when he ate them just to prove it could be done. I served with him over a year and we used to have ribs about every break. He never stained a shirt that I ever saw. It was quite a feat!" As he spoke he moved his eyes between Avendar and the pork chop he was cutting into bite size morsels.

"I had ribs when i was at the academy. Oh I was SUCH a mess after that! My classmates made fun of me for weeks!" She picked up the pork chop, and, grinning, tore into it. "Sometimes, a lady just has to eat! And I feel comfortable enough around you to be myself."

She looked over at McBain, with a wicked gleam in her black irised eye.

McBain stopped cutting and looked into her eyes. "I am glad you feel like that. Knowing what you do about me, I take that as a true compliment. Thank you Avendar." His smile broke out as he looked back to his plate, He used his fork to spear a Broccoli spear, a cut piece of meat and than swirled it all in his potatoes." He began eating with relish as the food was very good here. After the immediate urge to eat slowed he swallowed his last bite. "I never like greens as a kid, so I used to dip them in chocolate pudding." He laughed "everything tastes better in chocolate pudding."

"Yes, i know a lot about you. And if I wished I could learn everything I wanted from your mind, and you wouldn't even know it. But what fun would that be?" She smiled. "No thrill of the chase."

McBain felt the challenge and on one hand wanted to push back and see if his resistance training was as good as he thought. On the other hand he wanted her to feel comfortable with him, the idea she now did was compelling. In fact he did not feel a need to even try to defend his mind from her. Logic won out as she had already said she was not interested in trying. On top of that any resistance he originally felt evaporated as he processed what else she said, she was chasing him? He tilted his head smiling wider, "I am not sure the chase would be that interesting? I mean I would have to not want to be caught if it were to be a proper chase." McBain sighed "I will make an effort to be interesting, I mean if the chase were to be too easy you might lose interest."

Avender giggled. "There are many ways to chase, and many ways to elude capture, Frosty." She sipped her drink. "But a man of your experience knows that."

She sat back a moment and stretched. "Mmmm, am I the only one who finds these chairs uncomfortable? In any case, how is your pork chop?"

McBain shook his head, "I am rather good at evasion when I need to be. In this case however I have no desire to escape. On the other hand, I do not wish to appear too easy and boring? I will have to think on this problem a bit more." His voice had a sort of joking tone. His eyes were staying on Avendar's more though as if he was trying to see her intentions. "I think it is great, but than I am no connoisseur of fine food by any means. Most of my meals as a kid were fast food items. As an adult I have eaten more field rations I think than regular meals." His laugh was light and free- he was not into charades. He spoke the truth as he understood it. "If you have someplace more comfortable, we could take our desserts there." He laughed again and shook his head "I do think I am entrapped just yet, I think I still have some wiggle room?"

"Entrapped is such a... I don't know... a strange term," Aveneder said, leaning forward, to rest her chin on her folded hands. "However, the answer is 'no,' I don't think you are. Besides, a caged animal fights harder. Aren't wild horses more of a challenge? Oh, look! Dessert!"

The waitress placed two chocolate ice cream sundaes on the table. "Mmmm chocolate is the pinnacle of Terra's contribution to the galaxy's cuisine!" the Counselor said.

"I know of no one who would argue very hard against that statement." He nodded, thanking the waitress before returning his attention to Avendar. He savored the first spoonful quietly, she was it appeared content to stay here, so he was as well. The chase seemed to be at an end for the time being. "Avendar did you grow up on betazoid?" He ventured into another question warily, hoping this would not be another sore subject for her.

"I was born and raised on Betazed, yes. My first time off world was when I attended Starfleet Academy," Avender said. She licked her spoon. "Did you know that for some species, chocolate is an aphrodisiac?"

McBain shook his head, "I know guys have been bringing women chocolate pretty much since it was discovered. I know some women who would kill for chocolate." He laughed softly as he shook his head. "I honestly think the need for coffee drinkers to have coffee is stronger than the urge for chocolate." He had been eating as he spoke, He looked up into her eyes and swallowed. "I have a feeling you are talking about something else Avendar? Have I missed something I should have been aware of?"

Avender laughed. "would you believe I'm allergic to Terran coffee? It makes me break out in hives!"

The beeping alarm jerked Asa out of their reverie. The "Rita's Turbolift Rides Scanner Program", as the leggy lieutenant commander insisted on calling the medscanning program, was giving an alarm that the quantum field surrounding Paris was in flux.

"Computer, where is Lieutenant Commander Paris at the moment?"

"Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris is currently on Deck 6, in the corridor outside Transporter Room 4," the soothing artificial voice replied.

=^= Doctor Dael to Lt. Commander Paris, Ma'am, can you please come to sick bay? =^= , Asa paged, hoping they didn't sound as panicked as they felt.

As her com chirruped and the doctor's message came through, Rita Paris paused to respond to the clearly concerned ship's surgeon when she realized where she was. One of the main thoroughfares was the gangway through Deck 6, which took you past transporter rooms 1-4.

"Paris here, Doc... am I in serious trouble trouble or just 'say, that's interesting' trouble?" Deciding on the better part of valor, the fleet-footed first officer accelerated down a side corridor away from the transporters as a pit of fear yawned in her stomach. Moving at a double-time, tapping at her PaDD for navigation the excitable executive headed for the nearest Jeffries tube. They were insulated, after all.

"Um, say that's interesting? Just whenever you can, and making sure you were ok," Asa responded.

OK, Paris sounds like she is feeling ok. But then again, she always does. Woman would probably sound chipper whilst being fed into a wood chipper just to spite her captors. Even so...likely not mortal peril. Steady, Asa. Don't freak out the patient.

Even as they finished speaking to the first officer, the doctor was pulling up a screen to monitor her progress and vitals, noting that as soon as Rita entered the Jefferies tubes, her vitals seemed to normalize.

In short order, the feisty first officer arrived in Sickbay, making her way through the enormous medical facility that occupied the largest deck of the USS Hera’s saucer section. Long legs and a military stride propelled the woman about the ship, and when she wasn’t making allowance for anyone else, Rita could cover a surprising amount of distance in short order. In this case, to arrive at the Chief Medical Officer’s office within a minute and a half of being called. Posing in the doorway as if she were a model for a pulp paperback fiction novel of days long gone past, a sly smile settled on her face. “So… what’s up, Doc?”

Which definitely wasn’t the sort of behavior one would use to conceal vast insecurities or considerable anxiety, of course.

“Your bosons and charms based off your readings. Are you feeling all right? When you passed by the transporter room, you went a bit…….wonky,” Asa replied, chiding themselves for saying “wonky” as it if were an actual diagnosis.

“My what now, Doctor? Bosons haven’t been a thing since way before my time- did you means bosoms?” Paris asked with a peal of musical laughter, letting herself into the ship’s surgeon’s office. “And wonky… do we know what ‘wonky’ means, or is this a science that we are developing so just about any data is new data?” For a pilot, Paris seemed to have a reasonable layman’s grasp of how scientific method worked. But then, she did spend an awful lot of time sharing minds with a Vulcan scientist, so perhaps it wasn’t so surprising after all.

Asa turned red as a tomato. “Bosoms?” they replied, a slight panic in their voice, “I…I….I wouldn’t discuss such things…certainly not with…..right, sorry. No, that is to say, something in your quantum signature is acting like the 21st century understanding of boson particles. Something that I will be presenting to Sonak as soon as I can compile the data. I wanted to check in with you though, to make sure that a.) You are well, and b.) Inquire as to what sensations, if any, you experienced right before I called you.”

Moving as they spoke, the doctor acquired a tricorder from the side table in their office and began to scan Rita. Noting on a PaDD that all scans were normal and no anomalies were reported from the blonde's medscanner bracelet, Asa moved to sit down at their desk again, facing the first officer with a look of amiable concentration.

“Boson… Higgs-Boson particles, right, the model for all particulate physics in Earth science,” the leggy lieutenant nodded, recalling her studies at the Academy. “As for feeling… honestly Doc, I don’t really notice a lot when I feel when I am between point A and B and locomoting at high speed. I can tell you what it feels like when I am in the room, if that would help?”

Asa nodded, Padd in hand.

“When I was greeting the onboards…. I know this sounds crazy, so please just bear with me. But I can feel it…” Paris relayed, and as she spoke, her hands came up, expressing along with her words, which began tumbling out faster, a far cry from her usual easygoing calm and confident demeanor. “This pit opens in my stomach, and I just know when the transporter is activating, even when people are beaming in. A jet of fear races down my spine like cold water. Then the hairs on my arm stand up and I start sweating, because my heartrate takes off, and it’s all I can do not to run out of the room, because I’m afraid that I’m too close, and and and that it’s…”

Hands clawed the air until Paris grasped the arms of the chair, her grip a bit too tense for comfort. “I can feel it tugging at me, and it’s like it’s trying to... it's trying to get me. And I know, I know how that sounds and it’s stupid and it doesn’t work that way, I know it doesn’t, but…” Struggling to compose herself, breathing rapid and shallow, pupils dilated, Paris’ brow furrowed as she muttered to herself. “Pull it together, girlie.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid at all. It sounds like something quantifiable is happening to you, and that you are experiencing a physiological effect. It also sounds like this quantifiable event combined with repeated traumatic events is having a predictable, understandable, and again, quantifiable impact on your personage. You know anxiety and mental stresses can be measured through scans, correct? Are the scans stupid? Are other people stupid for experiencing trauma reactions, or is that an assessment you save for yourself, lieutenant commander?” their words were strong and confident, but delivered with a kindness in their tone. Asa knew something was happening, although they had no idea what. But no matter what the cause, they weren’t going to let Rita doubt herself over something completely beyond her control.

“Easy, Doc, easy.” A wry smile curled the left corner of the lost navigator’s lips. “Just me, I guess. I’ve been told my phobia is just fear for so long, I guess it’s a little hard for me to not apply my usual ‘buck up and get over it’ strategy. As fantastic as my life has been in my however many years I’ve been around, I suppose it shouldn’t surprise me, but… yeah.” Releasing her death grip on the chair, Paris exhaled long and low.

“Sorry to be a bit intense,” Asa replied sheepishly. They shifted in their seat, and began to rub the back on their neck with a distant expression.

“When I was a child my mother became pregnant with my baby brother. She knew something was wrong. She told my father multiple times that things felt wrong, that she knew something was off. He never listened. He convinced her she was giving into hysteria and it was all in her head, and that faith in the prophets would save her. She died in childbirth. I don’t tell you this for pity…I tell you this so you understand, I firmly believe our bodies tell us when things are wrong, and we should listen to them.”

The young doctor flushed, embarrassed at the outpouring of emotion. To hide their discombobulation, they reached for a PaDD to hide behind and pretend to be reading it while they got their ragged breathing under control.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Doctor,” the first officer offered, thinking a pat on the shoulder or a hug might be called for, but not wanting to further embarrass the physician. Change course, Rita. Get them back on familiar ground. “That does raise a question of my own… and this might sound odd, but… do you know how old I am? I mean, physically? It’s been… I’m not sure anymore.”

The doctor quirked a smile and quipped, "Sure sign of old age, that. But jest aside, let me see."

"Well, I am 162 years old according to my birthday," the cheerful commander shot back. "Not bad for a supercentenarian, eh?"

They scanned the blonde quickly and responded, "Based off the enamel on your teeth, given your likely diet during your youth based on your year of birth, combined with your genetic replication rates and the health of your bones, I would say you are 32. Happy birthday, I guess?"

“Huh… I missed my 30th birthday while amongst the living. I guess I’ll have to adjust my file,” the ancient astronaut frowned slightly. It wasn’t a big deal, but here all this time she’d though she hadn’t broken 30 yet, and the realization was mildly unsettling to her. Not important, Rita. New heading….

“Confession, Doc? I actually activate the replicator from across the room. I don’t like being near them either, but they don’t seem to freak me out nearly as badly,” the lovely lieutenant admitted. Taking a moment to steel herself, the comely cosmonaut raised her eyes to meet those of the frenetic physician. “I guess we could try a scan with me in the transporter room if you want to see what it really does to me? I mean, in the room, not on the pad, just… y’know, by the control panel but closer than the hallway?”

With an effort, Asa put on a bright smile and said, “So. We need to remove variables to get an accurate reading. While I’m 99% sure the fluctuations were not caused by another person, which is still a variable in play. Would you be able to coordinate a time where only Sonak, you, and I can be on that deck? That way we can gauge your readings as you approach the area with a limited amount of outside variables. What do you say?”

"If the scanner went off when I walked by, we should..." the internal struggle of the young woman played out over her face. Then it was clear she had arrived at a decision as her body language straightened and she looked ahead with conviction. "Empirical testing demands that we alter the conditions of the test to pursue relevant data. We should go try some proximity scans."

"Of course, but still keeping you off the actual transporter pad. I would like to extract some stem cells from you to see if we can't replicate the fluctuations without having to subject you to any more discomfort than usual. If you don't mind, we could complete that step now."

“Sure, sample away Myx Dael. I have no lack of stem cells. I can definitely cordon off one of the transporter rooms for an experiment, if you need to keep the data sample pure.” Paris chuckled. “I’d rather see them beamed around than me.”

“Um, about that. Normal extraction would involve using standard issue Starfleet medical equipment…all of which has some element of transporter technology in it. Aside from my concerns about exposing you to any transporter tech, given the data we are needing, this would contaminate our sample. We are going to need to complete the extraction through traditional surgical methods,” the doctor concluded, waiting for their patient to process the information.

The California golden girl stared blankly at the young immortal before owning up to her ignorance. “So what does that entail, Doctor?”

“Well, there is no nice way to say this, but it involves cutting into either your intestines, brain stem, or bone marrow, and extracting a sample. If there are not sufficient stem cells in the location that the sample is taken from, I will have to then cut into a different area. You will be sedated of course, but it is likely to feel decidedly unpleasant while you heal.”

“I guess medicine hasn’t changed that much in the past hundred years or so,” Paris grumbled. “Fine. Can you scan to determine if there will be sufficient stem cells where you choose to go in? I’d prefer not to do the brain stem version, if it’s all the same- I’m used to migraines and just recently got rid of them, and I’d prefer not to revisit them.” It was clear the patient wasn’t enthusiastic about the proposal, but was reasonably resigned to the procedure. “I need to be mission ready, Doctor. You can insure that I’ll be ready in a day or two, when we arrive at the Merkoset system?”

“Of course, ma’am. I will scan before I choose an incision site. I don’t want to go near your brain stem either. If we are lucky, you will have some in adipose tissues. I just wanted to make you aware of the process, and understand that I can only be 99% sure of harvesting stem cells, even with the best of scans. If you prefer, we can wait until our current mission is complete, although I’m reticent to do so as we don’t currently understand the nature of the technology you may be around.”

“Just… just get it over with,” Paris relied as her brow furrowed. “But make sure I’m not going to be an invalid for the mission. I don’t think this will be an easy one, and I’ll need my wits and physicality. But if you need adipose tissue, I do have something of an abundance in certain locales…” the ancient astronaut smirked slightly.

The doctor’s eyes took on a deer-in-headlights appearance as they felt their ears turn crimson at the implied reference to the first officer’s….well, headlights. “Um, of, of course ma’am. I will pursue the least invasive option. I recommend completing this at the end of shift so you can rest after?”

Rising from the chair with a sigh, the buxom bombardier offered a seismic shrug of resignation. “You’re the doctor.”



**After shift**

Rita was resting on one of the medical beds in Sick Bay, vital signs displayed over her head, while Asa completed preliminary scans to determine the best incision site. They never expected to be performing this kind of surgery on board- these types of things were usually reserved for the field- but Rita’s safety demanded minimal exposure to technology with any kind of transporter elements.

The instruments were thoroughly sterilized and Asa maintained an encouraging smile with the nursing staff who seemed less than comfortable with the entire affair. They considered using the EMH, but didn’t want to risk somehow contaminating the sample with holographic contact. The doctor didn’t think the EMH would impact Rita’s quantum signature, but this was uncharted territory, and the fewer variables, the better.

“Relax, Doc. If you didn’t know what you are doing you wouldn’t be here,” their patient declared, reaching up to grasp the frail physician’s arm gently. Those big blue eyes fixed on those of the young immortal. “I trust you.”

Asa gulped. Their first independent surgery, and of course it was not only a superior officer, but someone they were growing to care for. "Thank you ma'am, I'll see you in a few."

They clasped Rita's hand briefly while nodding to the nurse to begin delivering the anesthetic. The groggy look on Rita's face showed she would soon be sleeping, but Asa didn't move until Rita was fully under in case she needed anything. Then, setting their shoulders back and picking up their tools, the doctor set to work.

As soon as their patient was fully under, the doctor quickly removed a small amount of tissue from the underside of Rita’s breast, a bit from each one where the scans had indicated would have the best chance. There was a higher concentration in Rita’s brain stem and intestines, but the recovery time would be much higher, and there just wasn’t time. Thankfully each sample had adequate stem cells for testing, and Asa exhaled a sigh of relief.

“Excellent work everyone! Let’s allow the skin stimulators to do their job and then we will wake up the Lieutenant Commander. Thank you for all your efforts,” the doctor praised their staff.

Upon seeing Rita’s eyes begin to open, Asa said, “You did excellent, we had success extracting stem cells from adipose. How are you feeling?”

“Like somebody punched me in my left boob,” the starship siren smirked, wisecracking as always. “How’d it go? Success? I didn’t get a reduction while you were in there, did I?”

"You kidding me? I like my job...and my life," Asa said with a wink and a smile, "But no, we only needed to take about 2 grams of tissue. I know it feels uncomfortable, but you will be right as rain after a good nights sleep."

“Outstanding work, Doctor. Thank you,” the first officer smiled, a warm and gentle smile unlike the ones she turned on when she was trying to dazzle or the mischievous smile when she was being sly or flippant. Instead it was an expression of gratitude, and it was clearly not for the surgery, but for the care the fledgling physician showed in their treatment of the unusual officer’s unique ailment.

“I’ve got a Vulcan master of the healing trance waiting for me, so I can easily promise to get a good night’s sleep, Doc." Paris asked as she swung her legs over the biobed to sit upright. "So when do we start field testing?”

"An excellent question for said master. I will ask him tomorrow when he is available, as I would value his presence in interpreting readings in real time. What say you both come by sometime tomorrow and, barring medical emergencies requiring me, I will follow you to the transporter room of your choice?"

"Oh-nine-hundred we'll meet you... could someone get me a PaDD please... thank you nurse." The recently revived retro officer logged into the device, did a quick search, tapping away at the tablet , then speaking as she worked. "Transporter Room 4 on Deck 6 is closed at 08:50 til ten-hundred for experimentation. I've requested a liase between Medical and Science to borrow Mr. Sonak for an experiment, which you'll need to authorize as well as Lieutenant Vaemyn."

Barely awake and back to work, the woman swam the bureaucracy of starship life as if she'd been born to it. Distracted by something else that popped up on her never-ending list of things to do, she peered at the tablet for another second before looking up, smiling then leaning into the young doctor's space just a tad as her smile turned to more of a cheshire grin.

"Okay, I was a brave girl. Where's my lollipop?"

.
Stress. Stress. More stress.

Today Rita could and did demonstrate that in the 30 seconds it took to move through the chow line, she could be done with her lunch. With travel time that left her 28 minutes of her own time, and she had a holosuite booked for 22 of those. Stepping into the booth, Rita flopped against the wall in frustration.

The temptation to let the Counselor make her play just so they could study Hera's energies in action and thus work out how to block off or interfere with her power supply somehow. The science wasn't Rita Paris' department. Just the ideas and the improvisation. For now, just in case wave after wave of mythological monster army was coming at her on this mission, Sergeant Calhoun wanted to know what her big slug thrower was going to be and how it worked.

"Computer?"

After a pause of five seconds, the computer answered.

=^= Yes, Lieutenant Commander Paris? =^=

"Computer, would you please equip me in my armor suit?" As the MACO armor materialized onto the anachronism, who thought it was just a convincing hologram, continued. "The stealth plating is activation based- it doesn't run all of the time unless I leave it on, correct?"

=^= That is correct, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

"Let's try some colors. Show me the armor with red plating please, bodysuit can remain light black. Three-way mirror images from different angles within my field of vision?" As three different angles of the armor-clad adventuress admired her assets, she looked skyward with a smile. "Thank you, computer."

=^= You are welcome, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

"Let's see my command uniform gold.... hrm... shiny gold? Too shiny... maybe just a very shiny mustard yellow... yes! That's it, thank you! The helmet is collapsible like... ah, helmet, the interface is under life support, have to seal the suit's atmosphere before uncovering, agree, yes skip countdown why is that even in there..." As the helmet retracted from the armor, Rita admired her black and yellow armored form from every angle.

"So I get to go ninja like Calhoun but I still have an 'I come in peace' look. Computer, emblazon the left breast with my era Starfleet insignia of command, please." As the computer complied, Rita ran her armored hands through her hair and instinctively reached for a PaDD. Shaking her head and sighing to herself, the first officer looked skyward once more.

"Computer, please save this pattern, and apply this color scheme to my physical armor along with the stealth plating. If we're moving into the future I may as well look the part." As Rita gave the order, the suit she was wearing hummed and tingled like a mild transporter effect. The first officer cocked her head.

"Computer, am I wearing my armor right now... I mean my actual physical armor? Did you beam it onto me?"

=^= Yes, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^= the computer replied calmly.

"Why did you beam my armor onto my body on the holodeck?"

=^= Because you asked me to equip you in your armor suit. =^=

"Gotta learn to watch what I say. Well, now I know it's possible at least. Thank you, computer."

=^= You are welcome, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

"So, I should learn what this great and terrible firearm of the future is." Tapping at the wrist comm on her left wrist, Rita brought up a holopadd, then went to work digging through her notes to find the answer to her question. Some questions were best answered by oneself.

"There it is. Computer, holographically reproduce one TR-116C2 if you please, slung for a right hander," Rita shifted the PaDD to her left hand and held up her right, as the weapon materialized in her grip. Hefting it, she was surprised at the weight. Even with the strength assist of the suit's micromusculature assistance, she could feel the weapon's density. hefting it onto her hip, it fit well. Swinging it around to a two-handed grip, Rita raised the futuristic weapon of Starfleet and felt for the safety, finding it where she expected it and it operated as she expected it to work.

"How about the sales pitch? Summarize the user's manual aloud, computer, please?"

=^= The model C was redesigned for more efficient operation against Borg and similar targets as the TR-116C, using a magazine filled with dense replicator matter to feed a micro-replication system to create a string of 2.2mm tritanium bullets and varied ammunition types as needed. =^=

"So our mystery tungsten/rhenium alloy will come into play with the modified versions Thex concocted. All right, and that explains why it's so darned heavy- dense matter in the magazine. What sort of performance are we discussing here, computer?"

=^= The normal capacity of the replicator matter magazine is 80-120 rounds depending on settings. Normal ball point, hollow point, incendiary, delayed tracer rounds, and marker rounds are the most commonly programmed ammunition types. Only single fire and three round burst are enabled. =^=

"Well, how about that. Drawbacks to the weapon, computer?"

=^= The gyrostatic stabilization system can be a bit buggy during high rates of fire, but is fairly consistent in keeping all 3 rounds on target as long as the operator waits a moment for it to resync between cycles. The main unit is powered by the same dual regenerative power supply used in the standard issue proton rifle. Along with this, it uses the targeting microcomputer from the same rifle. =^=

"Lah dee dah. Does the weapon have any specific advantages?"

=^= Because of the power supply, it still functions in environments that normal phasers are useless in, and has greater effectiveness against energy shielded targets. A transporter module and exographic targeting system can be attached for stealth sniper missions, but is not part of the normal loadout. =^=

"A wait what now? This thing has a transporter system option, so you you can what, fire the projectile then beam it before it loses any velocity OH MY SWEET AUNT MILDRED THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT IT DOES."

=^= The MACO modified TR-116-C2 takes this technology to an even higher extreme, replacing the lower mechanical tube with a secondary 18mm barrel that can be used for more specialized ammunition. Common preprogrammed munitions are micro-airburst, smoke grenade, rubber, low yield plasma grenade, and tear gas. This reduces a magazine's rounds to 6-12 depending on the munition produced. It also adds a full auto option and a sturdier gyrostatic stabilization system to aid with consistent targeting. =^=

"Well that's all nice to know. Recoilless, isn't it?"

=^= Yes, Lieutenant Commander Paris. =^=

Hefting the weight of the weapon, Rita slung it over her back on the strap, only to discover that the rifle had magnets matching some in her armor, that spun the rifle the correct way and clipped it to her back so that she could reach it when she needed it. Reaching for her phaser, it was not in it's holster. Apparently because her phaser was not stored with her armor the computer hadn't beamed it in. "Computer, please holographically reproduce my phaser."

As the antique appearing weapon shimmered into existence in her hand, Rita smiled. She liked the 2266 version of the phaser from this universe. Thex had crafted her one that looked like the classic model but still packed the punch of a modern phaser. The personal phaser could still be detached, Rita knew how to work the weapon, and wasn't the worst shot with it. Those dustbusters the throwback trouble magnet couldn't figure out how to aim. Which reminded her, Sonak had probably adapted to the dustbusters just fine but he might appreciate a little touch of the old days.

"Computer, paint Lieutenant Sonak's armor a complementary shade of science blue for him, please. 2268 science insignia on his left breast, stealth plating as well. Also, please relay a work order to engineering to produce me four more of these phasers."

=^= You are welcome, Lieutenant Commander Paris. Work order placed. =^=

"Thank you." Sliding the cutlass from her back, the bell guard ratcheted into being around her hand, and Rita wondered if she was going to have to crown someone with this enhanced strength with the guard, or be so desperate as to drive the blade through someone. "A yard of steel is always handy, no matter what shadow you're in."

One of the books on her father's shelves that young Rita had not supposed to have read but did anyway were the Chronicles of Amber. In it she learned of the pattern of order in the center of the universe that echoed out across eternity, crafting shadows of itself as other worlds, other realities, all with various differences. Some shadows were made more solid by the presence of those who had walked the pattern and could shape reality itself. To this day she remembered Corwyn's advice about a yard of steel, and his quote about honor.

Sliding the large machete back into it's sheath, the bell guard retracted. Hefting the truncheon, getting a feel for the weight, Rita took a deep breath and sighed. Arming for war. Transporter rifles and mythological alloy bullets and minotaurs and how the hell were they supposed to stop an army.

"Computer, please holographically reproduce the nature trail at Starfleet Academy, circa 2253." As a view of the past that was not her past shimmered into view, Rita Paris looked over the well-lit campus. "Set time to 17:20 on October 1st" Rita specified, and the sun dropped low in the west. Smiling at the reproduction of her home star, standing on the reproduction of her home planet at twilight, the sailor of the stars' favorite time of day, the armored figure moved through a series of stretched, which she could still manage in the plated armor of the hardsuits.

Looking at the golden orb of Sol in the west, setting into the pacific that she might never see again, the space explorer began to run, her augmented musculature and superior traction swiftly moving to a sprint, then practically a streak. Running from her problems wouldn't solve them, but it might be a short-term answer while she came up with a solution. That had been the experience of much of Rita Paris' Starfleet career, and even with a BFG on her back and a big knife and a few new tricks in her bag, the hard-luck heroine strongly suspected that she would still end up running from trouble with Sonak at her heels soon enough.

Might as well use a few minutes of lunch to train for what Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris knew would come in handy- running.

As he strode across the deck, looking for Crewman Dedjoy, the ship's Chief Intel Officer pondered how, exactly, one goes about plundering The Cave of Wonders. For instance, how was it organized? Scanned-in inventory, in neatly-labeled crates? Giant piles of coins, with items laying lopsided among them? A card catalogue, then rows of stacks? Or perhaps some sort of overhead pick-and-place arrangement, with zip lines?

He wondered if the Commodore knew.

As he got closer to the location listed on the deck plans, he activated his comm.

=/\= Chief Clemens t'Crewman Daidjoahy. Please meet me at Th'Vault. =/\=

=/\=The Vault, sir?=/\= There was only one place she could think of that could be referred to as the Vault and that was the old Section 31 armory... Was that where he meant? Checking his current location, it seemed it was. =/\=I'll be there momentarily, but have you been authorized to unseal it? It takes two, you know.=/\=

He chuckled at, well, pretty much the entire exchange, and replied, =/\= Th'ExOh sent me tah find ya, Crewman. Ah'm yer new Chief of Intel, an' ah need tah be brought up t'speed on everah little thing we kin use tah whoop thuh tarh outta that crazeh wannabe goddess. Ah'll be waitin' fer ya, heah."

Rounding the corner from the lab she was in, Ila tapped her comm badge to close the comm channel. "Then shall we attempt to unseal the armory that doesn't exist?" With a tilt of her head, she turned towards the security console next to the heavy security doors.

"Computer, unseal Section 31 armory. Authorization Dedjoy gamma seven niner niner hopscotch whiskey sierra homeslice one." As she said this, she placed her face up to the eye scanner so it could confirm it was her in more ways than one.

The computer processed the input for a moment before replying. "Confirmed. First verification received. Awaiting second verification."

Stepping aside, Ila motioned for Samuel to do the same. "If you would be so kind, sir?"

The wiry-haired Intel Chief stepped forward, and leaned into the scanner, which appeared to be the equal or better than the one at Fleet Intel HQ, as he spoke his authorization code: "Ah, computah, uhnseel Section Thuhteh Won Ahm'ry. Auth'riz'ashun Clemehns Twayhn Sawyuh Daytuh Guy'nin Rihkuh Luhndun Crushah LahFoajh Troah Pickahd."

The beam scanned his facial features, and both his retinas, as the system analyzed his voiceprint and ran a duress check on his speech pattern, as the breath scanner compared his rhisomes and DNA to the ones on file.

There was a *CLICK*, then a whirring, while the sound of massive duranium bolts being recessed back into the bulkhead filled the corridor, freeing the door mechanism to operate normally, and a faint smell of ozone in the air, and the momentary sparkle of a non-visible field suddenly de-activated from the door assembly.

The ship's computer announced, "Security measures suppressed for authorized users only. Any additional parties must also provide proper credentials before entry. Full security measures will reactivate in ten minutes after entry unless verbal countermand is given by currently-authorized personnel. Doors will secure once personnel are fully inside. Proceed."

"Hmph." Clemens muttered. "How hawspitibuhl." He brightened, and turned to Dedjoy. "Aftuh you, Crewm'n. Yer th'tour guide t'this cave."

Nodding, the doll faced woman entered the armory, the dim red and blue glow of the sealed racks of alien weaponry along the walls illuminating her eerily. Heading straight to the lone terminal in the center, she clicked it on and brought up the inventory. "So what kind of weaponry are we looking for today? Plasmatic elasomator? Probability manipulator? Mono-filament lance? Genesarian rifle? Desert Eagle?"

"...didjyew say mono-filament? We'ah lookin' fuh shahp things. Thuh shahpuh an' hahduh, thuh bettuh. We'ah also lookin' fuh stealth hahdwheah, an' things that'd disruhpt an' ennajeh soahce. Ah's'pose it'd be too much tah ask fuh somethin' that stops mattah from bein' foacibly-reahh'rang'd, wouldn't it?" Clemens rolled off, as he ticked each item down his fingers. "Altho...didja say...probabiliteh mahnip'yewlaytuh?"

Ila pulled up a wireframe holo-display of a boxy looking weapon that looked more like a camera than a gun. "This is the probability manipulator. Target the victim, press the button... Within five minutes, the person will die from something improbable. If they don't, the user will. According to the manual, the odds of the user's death is ninety nine to one. Section 31 picked it up some years ago dealing with an incursion from an extra-dimensional gambler. As for mono-filament weaponry..."

Clicking a few more controls, one of the footlockers unsealed along the back wall. "That case has plasma bladed and mono-filament weapons that can either cut or melt duranium. Now let's see if we have anything that can prevent matter conversion..."

The engineer was making rapid notes on his PaDD, including the catalogue numbers and number of units available. The manipulator he noted, but figured it'd be a better trap than weapon..."Mmmmhmmm...gettin' this all down."

"There's an energy disruption matrix... But it says it can tear apart molecular bonds if set too high. Probably best to let that stay in here." Ila continued her search. "Reality fragmentation device? No, we don't want to tear apart the space-time continuum... Apollonian matter converter. That might help." Unlocking one of the side wall's seals, a set of golden laurels slid out of the racks and was retrievable. "The warning with it is that it can cause massive migraines, madness, and head explosions."

A furrowed brow once again started to appear on Clemens, but he realized that this equipment was for Ascended beings- a very exclusive club. Intel was aware of them, and where their allegiances lay, at least, as far as it was possible to tell. "Best not tah fool with that one, unless ya make reg'yuhluh trips through thuh Great Bar'yeeuh. Enneh luck with findin' somethin' t'keep owah peepuhl from gettin' turnt ta stone or animals? Owah mebbe sumpin' tuh turn 'em back?"

"That seems to be the closest we have unless you count the polydrive system." Ila resealed the golden laurels and pulled up a seven pointed capacitor looking device in the wireframe holo-display. "It has a chance of turning things back to their original form. It might also turn them into something else. The scientist that made it was supposedly crazy and was obsessed with poly-mutation based on infinite probability. This is another of those Section 31 interventions that went unnoticed."

That's when the terminal chirruped and the doll faced Illaran brought up another device. "Ah, right. That easter egg." Thinking on it a moment, she unsealed one of the cases along the back wall. As it opened, a white light shone for a moment, revealing a small white marble. "That was a gift from Odin. It grants temporary divinity. I mean, not literal divinity in the..."

Clearing her throat, Crewman Dedjoy continued. "It gives the person that consumes it similar powers to those of Odin's kin for a while. The captain put it here for safe keeping. That could most likely prevent petrification and polymorfication."

Clemens stared at it for a second. "That'd let somewon use thohse lawrails, wouldn't it?" He made some notes on the PaDD.

"...keep goin'. That'll be owah ace in thuh hole." He sent a quick message to the Captain noting the combination of the marble and the laurels as an emergency fallback plan.

"Let's also tag thuh Polydrive system. It might make a dandy duhty trihck against some uv huh moah nasteh minyuns," he noted, also sending an addendum to the Captain.

"I'm not seeing anything else that would do what you describe," Ila replied as she logged a few more entries into the inventory. "We have some nice era specific replica weapons, but nothing spectacular."

He looked thoughtful, then asked, "Aw-right. Let's think 'bout this diff'runt'ly. What sorta miracle dee-vices yuh got that'd make it easiuh t'git around, oah git sneekeh, oah maybeh help wi'sum medical needs that might jump out at us, without access t'thuh ship?"

"I think the normal equipment loadout on the runabouts would be enough for that. Most of what's in here is arms and armor. The captain keeps a few of her more delicate treasures in here as well, but unless you need something lethal, that's it." Ila scrolled through the inventory again, just in case, but as far as she knew, there wasn't anything that really stuck out like that.


~tag

Since it was the far-flung future, and she'd been fitted for a compensator hardshell suit that let her bench 600 pounds, Rita had a bit of an idea she wanted to run past the ship's resident genius of exotic technologies, one Crewman Ila Dedjoy.

Yeoman Dedjoy, apparently, according to her roster. Rita frowned at not having noticed the promotion sooner. It made sense- Dedjoy answered directly to the Captain on many projects, and liaised with Science for the ship's mistress and commander. It made perfect sense, and Rita had to admire the Trill commanding officer's efficiency. The woman knew how to run a starship.

Today had brought her up to the intel pod for a request or two. Because if they were going to war, Rita suspected she might need a trick or two up her sleeve... plus she might just get the chance to live out a childhood dream in the process.

Tapping her comm badge, the ancient astronaut spoke up. "Computer, please put me through to Yeoman Dedjoy if she's available, and message her that I'm trying to contact her if not." Rita had learned from past experience that the genius geologist wasn't always available to take a call, particularly in the middle of a delicate experiment.

A reply came back almost immediately. "Yeoman Dedjoy here, go ahead." The faint sounds of dying cats being strangled could be heard in the background.

"Thanks, Computer. I... ah, I wanted to see if I could take a consultation with you, Yeoman. I have a question on a few pieces of technology that I don't know if they exist and I'm not entirely certain how to search for their existence?" It might have sounded like a stupid question. But to be fair, 127 years was a lot of history to catch up on, particularly if you were no technological prodigy to begin with, so in Paris' case it wasn't entirely unreasonable.

"Of course, Commander. I'm in the pod lounge, if you want to meet me there." The sounds of the demon cats cut off abruptly as Ila spoke, followed by a few clicks from a PaDD.

"I can manage that," Paris expressed as she stepped into the lounge, only a score of paces distant from where she had called. Looking around, she didn't see the expected horde of demon cats. Brow furrowing slightly, she raised a finger to ask the question, then clearly thought better of it, reconsidered, then dropped the matter internally. "Hello Yeoman Dedjoy. Congratulations on the promotion."

"Ah, thank you," Standing, Ila attempted a smile. "It was more of a formality since I was all but doing the job as it was. So what is it you're looking for?"

Bringing up her own PaDD, Rita paused, her finger hovering over the surface as she spoke. "Back in my dimension, Starfleet issued collapsible blades, compact yet strong and sharp, and in a variety of lengths and styles. Is there anything like that onboard the Hera? As Corwyn of Amber once pointed out, having a yard of steel, not matter where you are, can prove to be useful."

"Oh yeah, we have a few cases of them in the Section 31 armory." Ila didn't even need to look those up. "Mono-filament and plasma energized as well."

"Ooooooh, plasma energized blades? That sounds... like a good way to accidentally cut off my own arm. I'd better stick to just a standard blade until I graduate from the beginning sword fighting class," Paris opted, choosing a sensible option for a change. "As for the other item... do we maybe have something like this?"

Tapping the PaDD, Paris played the clip of the relevant scene from her childhood vid, of the lady space marine's hoverboard unfolding for her to step onto and fly. "I know it;s silly, but it was an antigravity board, and I do know how to surf...?" Rita trailed off, waiting to see if this was going to get her laughed by the scientist of the 24th century.

This would take a bit more doing. Tapping at her PaDD, Ila started coming up with a few things immediately. "Well... Sandsurfers use something like that. And modern Bolian surfers use something similar I think. I'd have to rebuild it for combat use. Add some plating to it. Beef up the skids. The weight capacity would have to be doubled as well."

Then it hit her. There was something in the armory close to this already. "On second thought... There's something in the armory that might work as long as you don't mind using the suit as well. Also, it only hovers about a foot off the ground."

"The suit?" While a foot off the ground wasn't what she had in mind, Paris was intrigued nonetheless. If it came with a suit the odds of whatever suit existed fitting her rather specialized frame and figure were low, but Dedjoy always had interesting ideas if nothing else. "I could always take a look..."

"The armory isn't far." Ila motioned towards one of the lounge doors and headed out, expecting Rita to follow. When they got to a rather overly secured door with a security terminal next to it, Ila ran them through the dual unlock sequence and as the massively sealed double doors retracted, led her inside to reveal a room of dimly lit red and blue wall racks of weapons and crates along the back wall.

Ignoring the sealed racks and heading to the lone terminal in the center, Ila activated it and unsealed the discrete door in the back. "This is actually the first time I've opened the armor lounge. This will be an experience for both of us."

"The future is an amazement to me every day, Miss Dedjoy. Everything is an experience," Rita Paris offered without an ounce of sarcasm.

Heading deeper into the armory, Ila whistled softly at the lengthy room of armor cases. It looked like there were at least fifty cases, all with experimental armors that shouldn't exist. The one they needed was close to the front at least. Next to one that was curiously already unsealed and marked for the Captain's use... "Ah, the captain's armor... Custom fit MACO Mark III with thermoptic camo. The rest of the crew is getting issued Mark II."

Stepping past it to the next suit, Ila motioned to the black, skeletal half suit and board combo. "This is it. It's from an old X Sport called reaper surfing on Andross Prime. The suit should fit under your MACO armor."

“So this is a hoverboard- won’t fly, but will repulse the ground at around a foot off the deck I take it?” Rita eyed it with a bit of a dubious eye. “I think the Bolian or Sandsurfer board might be a little more what I was after?” the skeletal half suit looked a bit sinister to her eye, and a foot off the ground wasn’t going cut it if she was trying not to die in a fall from a great height.

"It flies well enough, but don't expect it to go straight up too far," Ila replied, looking over the data readout on the armor display. "And the armor is more of a control and safety system from what I'm seeing. I could probably come up with something similar, given time, but the other things aren't going to be any better."

“I think, all things considered, I can wait, Yeoman,” Paris rubbed her chin, as she sometimes did when considering an issue. “There’s no great rush, and this is definitely not going to the mission to be trying out even more new and untested gear than I am already adapting to now."

"All things considered, I think I would rather you had more confidence in it and time to work. I trust your judgment, and rushing projects tends to lead to shoddy projects. Truthfully I think I would rather place my trust and my life in your handiwork than something we improvised out of the vault.” Turning to eye the large-eyed scientist, Paris cocked an eyebrow slightly. “Does that work for you, Ms. Dedjoy?”

"Works for me, Commander. I wouldn't expect any miracles, though." Glancing down the rows of armor, Ila wondered if she needed to work too hard at a miracle though.

“Eh, fair enough. An anti-gravity boogie board did seem a little far-fetched I guess, even for the dawn of the 25th century. Ah well,” Paris sighed. “Guess I’ll go fetch myself a collapsible sword out of the pile and call it a day.”

Leading Rita back to the main armory room, Ila unsealed the locker with the bladed weapons. "Pick whichever one you like and I'll take care of the paperwork." As the locker lid hydraulically opened, the mess of weaponry inside was disorganized, to say the least. How any of this case was inventoried was unknown.

The customization capabilities of the MACO EVA hardsuits were a bonus. The weaponless weaponeer should have suited up before she came up here, she realized now. She could always replicate it, but then she'd have to climb into it without the racks. She could always just have the computer guided by the sensors beam it directly onto her body, like when she'd fought King Candy. That made her burst out into slightly hysterical laughter, which she grinned at Dedjoy afterward, shrugging and twitching it off.

Grabbing a pair of mail gloves and slinking her way into them, the name-dropping navigator began rooting through the disorganized mess of weapons. "So the suit makes me stronger, so I can handle something bigger. And a big yard of steel... is that a helicopter blade with a handle? Yes it is. A big yard of steel should work well for me. And I'm thinking one of those collapsible blades as a backup secret weapon. I could carry a survival knife I suppose. I am an explorer who might need a compass built into the pommel of a knife... hey, no surprise, year 2395 and here's a great big survival knife- but why does it have a laser sight on it?"

Rummaging wasn't producing anything that struck her fancy, until she found a study-looking machete that she hefted just as a curiosity, as a plated bell-guard formed about her hand, rendering it recognizable as a french cutlass. If you knew about such things, which Rita Paris did not. Instead, she first insured it hadn't just captured her hand, Then she took an experimental swing with the weapon.

"Hey now!"

The blade had weight, but it would be relegated to close quarters, But as a defensive weapon it could serve well in that capacity. Catching the blade and releasing the grip, the hilt retracted again. "I name you Faendral the Dashing, for he was the swashbuckler supreme of Asgaard. And you are a swashbuckling weapon, my friend."

Finding an odd 'T' in the bin, she fiddled with it until the blade began ratcheting out in a manner familiar to her but a lot smoother, and the blade looked solid when it was done at nearly 2 meters. "Bit of overkill, that. Maybe something with some heft for when I need to break something. Ah, the weapon of my people since the dawn of time- the club." Pulling out the stone club that actually might have been wielded by one of her primitive ancestors, it wasn't what she was after. "Not even if it causes earthquakes when I hit the ground. Pass."

Ila chuckled softly. The commander was certainly an odd one. Then again, here she was in charge of this armory and you'd never catch her using a single one of these weapons. "Did you find one you like?"

Grabbing the hilt of the collapsible sword, Rita screwed the pommel and the blade not only collapsed, but the hilt as well into a truncheon. "Well... reckon I have," the unconventionally uniformed officer remarked, hefting the condensed metal and appreciating the weight and heft. "Overkill it is. Yes, Miss Dedjoy, I rather think I have, thank you. I assume Lucky keeps inventory? Or is the vault another independent subsystem?"

"I keep inventory, actually," Ila replied, logging the item as being removed. It wasn't a classified item so the log entry was light at least. "This whole system dates back to before your era so it's all manual. The control systems were updated, but for security reasons, the computer systems were never updated past isometric transistors. This thing still speaks binary."

"Seems odd on such a modern starship. You said you helped install the intel pod... where did it come from?" Always one to ask a direct question, Rita ticked her booty under her arm to shuck the mail gloves she had been using to move the box of blades about, returning them to where she'd found them.

"When section 31 was dismantled, their flagship was also dismantled. This pod came from their ship." Ila began closing up and resealing everything in the armory in preparation to leave. "From what I can tell, it had some amazing capabilities that shouldn't have existed and damaged the fabric of the universe when they used it."

"What's Section 31?" Paris asked. It was on her million and one long list of things to look up, but there were only so many hours in the day. But hearing it again, she frowned. "I thought it was Section 13?"

Dedjoy looked up at Rita to explain. "Section 31 was a nonexistent part of the Federation that did whatever it took from the shadows to protect it from dangers that could destroy it so normal people could sleep by doing very evil things. In a way, we're doing the same thing, but in a more moral way. We let the rest of the fleet try first, then go in and do what needs to be done. Or if we find an old Section 31 cache, we just go in, do a data dump, and destroy it."

"Succinct! Thank you, Yeoman," the frequently clueless commander offered with genuine gratitude. "Well, maybe I'll ask Thex to come take a peek at that extreme sport rig and see what she thinks. This section is what- clearance, captain's permission, all of the above?"

"There are nine crew members that have authorization to unlock this room and it takes two to unseal it." Ila replied. "As for the rig..." Pulling a PaDD out of her pocket, she pulled up the data on the armory console and copied it to the small pocket PaDD before handing it off to Rita. "That should do it. Don't let that fall into the hands of... Our enemies? Honestly, I'm not sure what about that is classified other than the poly-duranium reinforcements being illegal for the games."

"Smartly done, Miss Dedjoy, as always. Which reminds me- Computer? Please replicate Miss Dedjoy's gift in the replicator in the intel pod lounge." Turning to Dedjoy Paris smiled lazily. "It is tradition for the couple to give gifts of appreciation to their guests at an Earth wedding, so I brought you a gift, because I forgot at the time. There's also a card, because I forgot that too."

"Oh, your gift is called a candle. You light the wick on fire and it slowly melts the wax airborne, but it scents the air while providing light. My people find them soothing, so I thought you might try it for yourself. The computer said it should burn for about a hundred hours, which is impressive in my experience. I hope you like it." Paris wasn't sure if Dedjoy had a sense of smell or not, but she might like the flame? No way of knowing, but Rita proceeded with the best of intentions and a positive attitude.

Ila, for the first time since her sister had passed, smiled properly. "A gift? Thank you. I've not... My sister..." looking down for a moment, she tried to compose herself but failed, tears forming in her large doll eyes. "Thank you, Commander. My twin sister was the last one to give me a present before she passed. I will treasure it."

The earth woman was taken aback by her alien shipmate's response, and in that moment Rita Paris realized just how lonely Ila Dedjoy was. While her instinct was to wrap the woman in a hug, they didn't know one another that well, and Rita was already overly prone to such emotional displays, which were unprofessional and unbecoming a Starfleet officer.

A hand on the shoulder was still human contact, and that the first officer could manage without being too intimate with the yeoman. "I know we can never replace your sister, Ila. But you have a lot of family right here. Sonak and I owe you everything- if you had not figured out how to send my communicator back, he would never have found me. Ensign Larry Wells saved me from being a ghost. Crewman Ila Dedjoy saved me from being a ghost and returned my Sonak. You did that, and you will always hold a place in our hearts for that."

Ila couldn't take it anymore and the fragile woman suddenly gave Rita a hug. It wasn't a strong hug as she wasn't a strong woman, but the Illaran gave it the best she could, the tears flowing freely now, easily soaking the shoulder of Rita's uniform after a few moments. Larger eyes meant larger tear ducts and she proved that she could cry like an anime character. "Thank you..."

Wrapping her arms around the slender woman's frame, Rita reached up and began to stroke Dedjoy's dark hair, letting her get it out. Teach you to fight your instincts over decorum, Miss First Officer shouldnt-give-her-a-hug-because-it's-improper. "Shhhh. it's all right. Just let it out. I know... I know..."

Maneuvering them into the lounge, Paris sat the grieving young woman down and held her, letting her cry it out until the emotional storm passed, making soothing sounds and stroking Dedjoy's ebony hair and slender arms, a reassuring touch of tenderness that was so often needed at times like this. When did I become everyone's big sister?

Dedjoy sobbed uncontrollably for some time before calming down enough to talk. "I'm sorry... I've been holding that in for so long... It's like half of me has been missing for so long..."

"I know a little bit about how that feels," the long-lost lieutenant commiserated. "Like there's an arm missing, and you keep going to reach for things with it, and you're reminded every time that it's not there. Then you start getting mad at yourself for forgetting they aren't there, because you have to accept that they're gone. But there's still a part of you that's missing. No one can see the wound, but you still feel it all the time."

The comely commander expected more waterworks at that, and she was not proven wrong.

Senior Chief Petty Officer Duran-Yeager Syal stood, safely ensconced inside a moving turbolift as it sped towards its destination, the main bridge and her meeting with this ships commanding officer. Duran-Yeager held her silence as the doors opened, the man she shared the lift with indicated for her to step out first, she smiled as she did so.

Duran-Yeager raised an eyebrow as she looked around at the bridge before her, she had been expecting a galaxy or a galaxy variant bridge but this was closer to the designs as seen on the Sovereign class, she brushed her hair out of her eyes before she looked around, as she had no idea of where the skippers ready room was located.

"Ensign?" Duran-Yeager asked quietly. "Where's the ready room?" she added a moment later.

The 'Ensign' in question had been the same young man who had ridden the turbolift with her to the main bridge. He smiled as he indicated the far side of the bridge. "Right over there Chief."

"Thanks," Duran-Yeager answered in the same quiet tone before she moved from next to the turbolift, she crossed the bridge in silence as she quickly realized that the personnel assembled and gathered here were just meeting her for the first time, it also dawned on Duran-Yeager that she had no idea whatsoever of who these people were and that fact, alone was what was bothering her more then anything else.

Duran-Yeager tapped the door chime once with her right hand, she then settled in to wait to be admitted.

"Come in," Called the captain, looking up from her desk terminal. Clicking it off as the doors opened, she stifled a sigh and leaned back in her chair. She really needed to get someone else to in-process all these inbound transfers. "You are Chief Duran-Yeager, right? My new Chief of the Boat? Welcome aboard. Have a seat."

"I am indeed Captain." as Duran-Yeager moved into the room. "Your new Chief of the Boat." the small Bajoran female grinned at the other female as she selected a chair before her, she made herself comfortable. "Commander Paris said that I was not to call you sir. Mind if I ask why?" she inquired.

"You call men sir. You call women ma'am. Take a guess which one I am." Enalia was dead serious on this point and it had been a point of contention throughout her career.

"Fair enough. Starfleet regs tend to be rather inflexible on silly things like that." Duran-Yeager answered evenly, clearly having gotten the answer she wished for.

"Now that that's out of the way, it's good to have you aboard. It seems your trip was rather eventful." Enalia still had to decide what to do with her new prisoners in the brig, but at least her crewmember was ok.

"Yessir. For all the wrong reasons but I'm okay. The Doctor has checked me over and has assured me that all is well with me." she paused. "Still. Thank you for all your efforts in rescuing me." she paused. "Does the USS Hera have an assignment and how may I be put to use aboard this ship?

Enalia stared at the woman for several long seconds, her glare deepening. Closing her eyes and rubbing her temple, she should have known this was coming. "You were warned not to call me sir, we talked about it... And then you did it... Consider this a warning." Reaching out and clicking her desk terminal, she brought up an image of the Goddess Hera. "This is our assignment. The Greek Goddess Hera has come back from wherever they go and she's pissed at Zeus and taking it out on the galaxy's denizens. We've sent diplomats but she's killed or polymorphed them. We're going in to strip her of her power. If she won't stop them, we're to kill her. I'll forward the recording of the staff meeting to your office terminal."

"Yes ma'am." Duran-Yeager paused as she considered what to say. "Wait. Is this a being masquerading as a god or an actual god?." she paused as she seemed to be having an issue adjusting to what she was hearing. "If you don't mind my asking ma'am?. How does one go about killing a god?"

Enalia figured the sir was just habit and slipped this time. Still... "She's one of the alien beings that portrayed herself as a deity on Earth twenty five hundred years ago. Kirk had an encounter with a being called Apollo from the same group. Their tech is still far more advanced than ours, but that's where we have an advantage - she's overconfident. We also have a few tricks and know a bit about how to disable it."

Duran-Yeager nodded, proceeding all the details. "My husband told me about Earth's various gods and goddesses. He said they were a bedtime story.. A fable... All just that, a story..." Duran-Yeager shifted her attention from the picture of Hera on the display. "What your telling me, isn't easy to accept. All this talk of gods and prophets... Its all just superstitious nonsense to me.." the small female seemed to really be having issues processing all of this.

Enalia chuckled softly, clicking the display off. "Well, I've met several others. Hermes, Danu, Odin... Just to name a few. They're not gods - I think Q or the wormhole aliens near Bajor would be closer, but they're certainly real and can be very dangerous."

"So, all the old stories. I thought they were just that, stories told to help others or give people something to believe in." Duran-Yeager paused as she took a moment to pull herself back together. "With the level of power that I assume they have, I can believe it." as she shifted her position in her chair ever so slightly. "How can I help the Hera and her crew face this threat?"

"Make sure everyone is up to speed and trained for now. We'll be facing off against a being far more advanced than us." Enalia would have more orders later, but for now, that's all she could really reveal at the moment.

Duran-Yeager thought the order was rather cryptic but she wasn't about to argue. "Yes, ma'am. I'll see to it they are ready for war." she commented evenly. "I assume time is a factor so with your permission. I will start immediately."

The Captain nodded, hoping for such a response. "Then please do so. Dismissed."

Duran-Yeager rose to her feet, did a quick about-face and marched out the door in silence.

The senior staff had apparently been given their marching orders. Alex had not yet encountered his friend but was looking forward to it. He wanted to get the routine stuff out of the way first. He had fond this a thousand times. So when it was finished there would be nothing to do but surprise French. As he approached the bridge, he immediately realized that there would be no surprise, as French was standing at the tactical console running a diagnostic of some sort. As she turned to see who was entering the bridge her heart leaped into her mouth. "ALEX." She all but yelled causing several crew members to turn and look.

He held up a hand. "Carry on, I'll be in the area all day!" He said sarcastically and headed for his friend. They gave each other a quick hug and then broke apart.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She asked

"Following you of course." He returned

"I'm so glad to see you. Are you reporting in now?" She asked

"Yep, right this minute. I've already seen the doctor and the counselor. Pissed off the first officer and almost got thrown in the brig. So now I see the Captain. I understand you are my boss!" He said

"Boss, huh. You could run this department as well if not better than me. We will be a team. An unfreaking beatable team! Welcome aboard. Now get in there, and be humble. Tonight we party." Announced French

Alex smiled, hugged her again and headed for the Captains Office.

As her door chimed again, Enalia looked up from her desk terminal and clicked it off again. It seemed she was destined to not get anything done today. "Come in," she called, seeing the man on the other side of the door as they opened. "You are... Lieutenant Alex Sexton, right? Welcome aboard. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you Captain." And he did as he was told. "I've already had the pleasure of meeting your XO. Very interesting person." He said

"That she is. I'm glad we ran into her, honestly." Enalia grinned at the thought of how they found Rita. It was definitely unique, to be sure. "So how are you settling in?"

"I'm just about ready the go from limited access to full, in so much as I've had my physical check up in medical, spoken the the very alluring counselor and now I'm seeing you. I'd have to say, I'm doing well to be sure!" Replied Alex

"I've heard she has a way of getting people to open up to her." Enalia smiled politely. She wasn't the most trusting of psychics, though she'd had several as friends in the past. She just needed a bit more time than usual to befriend them than usual. She needed to focus on the man before her though. "Unfortunately, I'll need you to get to work straight away once our meeting is over. The incoming Intel Chief was murdered upon arrival using a fast acting and fast dissolving neurotoxin. Commander Paris was present at the time and was fast enough to get the EMH there to detect traces of the toxin as they dissolved."

The mood took a sharp turn in the serious direction. Alex had hoped to work his way in, but not like this. But when duty called, he was the one you wanted to answer. "Captain, I'm at your service. Use me in what ever capacity you see fit." Replied Sexton

He immediately began thinking about how and where one might find such a thing as a fast devolving neurotoxin. If they were of Risa he would know who to seek out and get a lead on the murderer. But here he'd be starting from scratch.

Enalia nodded and continued. "I'll make sure all the relevant files are made available to you. As the ship's new investigations officer, it's your job to look into things like this now. As for the circumstances, the deceased and I both worked on the same classified intel project so I think that might have been a factor. My Yeoman and the EMH have conducted the autopsy and have the remains in a stasis unit in the pod for now. As for the toxin, it was a common one used by higher tier agents in the now dismantled Section 31 for assassination and suicide as far as we could tell."

At the mention of the Section, Alex immediately knew what he was up against. He had the misfortune of being trained by operatives from the section on matters that were redacted in his records. On several occasions he had the unfortunate pleasure of working side by side with Section 31..operatives who would kill you as soon as look at you. Alex stood up slowly, with a look of pondering fate on his face. He turned and stood behind his chair.

"Captain, forgive me. I loath the section and the reputation they have given the Intelligence industry at Star Fleet. And though I'm not an Intel operative, you'd be hard pressed to find someone with as much past experience as Seregon French and myself with matters of an Intel nature. She was recruited at an early age when we served on a Star Base together over 10 years ago. So birds of a feather kinda stick together. One of the reasons I requested this assignment. I assure you Captain if the section had anything to do with this hynous crime, I'll get to the bottom of it." He said with the utmost confidence.

Enalia grinned as she leaned back in her chair. "Hard pressed? I may be a pirate empire heiress, but my entire Starfleet career has been centered around Intel, as have several others on this ship. Welcome to the Hera family. As for Section 31, since their dismantlement after the Dominion War, which we've had a small hand in cleaning up, we're the ship that's unofficially taken on the role that they used to handle without going so far over the line that they did. As such, our mission pod is from their dismantled ship. If the main forces can't handle something, we get to handle it in our way. We've lost a lot of people along the way, but we always get the job done with most of our morals in tact."

Then the spotted captain became a bit more serious. "What I'm more concerned about is the fact that the Gemini project might still be ongoing. It's a quantum cloning project that in the past somehow pulled a demonverse clone if the Hera, and me, into this universe. If they're still messing with that tech... And if the old director of S31 is still out there running experiments... And if her killed her..." Pausing for dramatic effect before she continued, Enalia took a deep breath. "It took the destruction of a planet and the murder of over three hundred million people to kill the last demon that came through that portal. I'd rather not repeat that."

Alex listened and paid attention. "Surely you don't think the old Diercetor is at it. Is that possible?" He asked knowing that almost anything was possible with section 31 but hoping he would not find out the hard way. He thought about the Gemini Project of which she spoke. Did his two years of looking after Frenchie take him that far out of the loop, that projects such as this one was new to him? He began to have his doubts about his earlier comment.

"Franklin Drake Is supposed to be dead, but as Sloan's replacement I'm sure he had several contingencies. He was also spotted at the Hera's last refit." Enalia would rather not have to mince words and it was true, after all.

"If he was at the refit, there is a likelihood he is interested in the Hera. I will find out. I'll make that my personal mission to find out if he is still alive and why he was at the refit. If this ship is in danger from the likes of him, we need to know!" He said very focused now.

"Thank you. I look forward to good things from you." Enalia grinned and leaned back in her chair, choosing to switch to a lighter topic now. "So now that that's out of the way, welcome aboard. What do you think so far? Is the Hera living up to your expectations?"

"I think if everyone works as hard as your XO, you're onto a winner here. With our mission being what it is, I'm sure this is going to be an interesting assignment. Now that I'm going from limited access to full access I can get cracking on my investigation and also help out wherever possible. I'll check in with the head of Intel to see what they can offer up on our present situation. That is if I have your blessings to do so. During an official investigation, even though I'm a Lt. I work with your authority if you grant me permission to do so, and I will not misuse the privilege." He paused for a moment. "If you like, I can give you a brief on my method of starting and conducting an official investigation, to put your mind at ease that I do know what I am doing! " said Sexton with total and complete confidence. When talking about an investigation he was at his best and as cool as a cucumber.

Enalia raised her hands in front of her with a slight grin on her face. She liked his enthusiasm, but she'd rather leave his job to him. "No, no... That's ok. I'll leave investigations up to you, especially since you'll likely need to investigate me as well. If you need anything at all, just let me know. Do you have any questions for me?"

"Not right now Captain. Thank you for seeing me and I'm glad to be here!" Said Alex

"It's good to have you aboard," Enalia replied with a grin. "If there's nothing else, you're dismissed."

With that Sexton did an about face and left the ready room in search of his adopted sister, Lt French.

It was 18:00 hours, and the alpha shift was done for the day. 12 hour shifts with relief, but a 12 hour bridge shift was definitely not that interesting for the pilot while the starship was at warp and all was well. As she went to log out of the helm station, an message came through to report to the flight control office immediately.

Tapping her combadge, Lt. Junior Grade Melanie Dox responded. "On my way." She finished logging out of the helm and swapped places with her duty relief and made her way to the turbolift.

"Deck 4, please." She yawned slightly as she instructed the computer as to her destination. As the turbolift began it's quick trip, Dox scrunched her eyebrows slightly, lifted her arm.and took a quick sniff. It had been a long shift and she was feeling slightly less then crisp but couldn't notice any odor. Nevertheless, she shook out her arms a bit to help knock off the proverbial dust of a long shift.

It was a quick walk from the turbolift to the flight control office, but Dox couldn't help wonder what was wrong. Assuming the worst was her default mental state but she put her concerns aside as the door to the office automatically slid open with a woosh as she arrived at her destination and announced herself. "Reporting as ordered."

The fulsome first officer seated at the desk glanced up at the opening of the door, then smiled, one of those high-wattage smiles that people often claimed could light up a room. In the case of Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, it happened to be true. Standing, she gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Excellent. Come in, Lieutenant, and have a seat, if you will. Let’s have a chat, you and I.”

“No, you are not in trouble,” Paris began as she made her way around to the front of the desk, to lean her rounded rear against it as she spoke, a habit Melanie had already noticed about the leggy lieutenant commander. “No, this is nothing negative. This is also somewhat unofficial since you aren’t on duty right now and I may or may not be. First Officer means you are never truly off duty- remember that when they offer you the promotion one day.”

Lowing her shoulders to droop slightly, Melanie was relieved that nothing was overtly wrong. She took the seat that had been gestured to and crossed her feet in front of her, sitting somewhat more relaxed then she was used to in the presence of a commanding officer. "Thank you, Commander," she said with a smile.

“So. This is off the record, Dox,” the chief flight control officer indicated. “I’m going to be shipping out shortly for an away mission to the planet. I’m sure I’ll be back, as Sonak has often pointed out that I’ve come back from far too many dangerous missions that I should never have survived, yet here I am, case in point.” Paris cocked her head quizzically, then rolled her eyes skyward. “Ah, right. Pointless discussion because you have no idea who I am or how I got here. I keep forgetting I don’t have much of a service record in these parts. Sorry.”

“Point being, I’m going to have to leave the Hera in your hands. This is an incredibly hazardous system to navigate- computer, please give me a realtime projection of the Merkoset system one meter square in front of me.” As the projection brought up the densely populated system of 347 planetoids orbiting the blue giant star. “And you will be in combat. Those wacky chariots of hHera’s can give a ship like ours a run for our money, and you will be taking on multiples. So I’m afraid that your trial by fire is going to be rather literal. No chief at the helm to take the big job- this one is going to fall on your shoulders, Miss Dox.”

“Permission to speak freely- this is just us, and this is unofficial, as I mentioned,” Paris added, eyeing the reactions of the junior officer intently.

Suddenly, Dox found herself wide awake as she stared at the projection of the system and processed everything that Rita Paris had just said. This was beyond any simulations she had ever perpared for and two quadrants away from her time piloting Runabouts on uneventful cargo runs from Starbase to Starbase. This was much more akin to her piloting the smuggling ship she grew up on in and out of asteroids, ducking Romulan scout ships cranked up to eleven. Maybe twenty.

Narrowing her gaze on the projection, Dox began mentally plotting the visible paths between the tightly spaced planetoids realizing just how tricky maneuvering the massive Nebula Class Starship was going to be. Sitting back hard in her seat, her eyes widened slightly and she let out a slight nervous chuckle. "Damn."

"We had a saying back in my day," the gold-clad commander gripped the edge of the desk as she leaned into the junior officer. "It was, 'Fire tests gold'. It's an old Earth saying about how fire would melt the impurities out of the precious metal, burning away the dross and excess material until only the purest, best of it remained."

"In Starfleet," the anachronistic astronaut continued her yarn, "it had a somewhat different meaning. If you were command track, you wore gold. And fire was out there in the galaxy aplenty, and it would test in so many ways."

"Miss Dox, you don't wear gold, but you are about to enter the fire."

"Having given you permission to speak freely, I have deliberately told you this in advance, because I am giving you the full range of reaction to this news, here and now. In short, you have my full permission to freak out now." While she might have made it sound sarcastic, somehow Rita Paris managed to make her statement come across as an indulgence.

Chewing the inside of her cheek nervously, Dox fidgeted in her chair. Freaking out was a form of emotional outburst that was not well received growing up and so she tended to internalize such feelings. After a lifetime of doing so, she bristled at the thought of losing her cool again in front of her new First Officer like she did in their first meeting. But the situation she had just been presented with was overwhelming to say the least and she struggled to form a reaction that encapsulated the moment properly.

"This is about as freaked out as I know how to get, Commander." Dox replied. "This is... terrifying. I'd be full of... I'd be lying if I said It wasn't and I don't see any point in doing that. A waste of both our time. But..." The tense pilot felt like Paris was looking for some specific reaction, but she had no clue what that expectation was so she just let out what she was thinking. "I'm scared. I am. But it's not going to stop me from doing my job."

The more she talked, the more the nerves in her stomach turned into a kind of anger. It was the kind of anger she didn't like to admit that she LIKED. It was the kind of anger that helped her focus and see past obstacles. The kind of anger that kept her alive as a 13 year old piloting smuggling ships across the neutral zone. Dox leaned forward in her chair, her nerves gone. "Whatever I have to give here, it's going to this ship. Whatever I can do I'll do."

"All right then. I didn't want you ambushed by this assignment, which is why I am telling you here and now. I'm not going to tell you how to fly this one- I've seen your skills and I know you can do this. You're taking the big girl into dogfights, evasive maneuvers around erratic orbits.... I mean, look at the axis wobble on this one?" Paris pointed to a large jagged planetoid that spun at a surprising speed one a very broken axis orbit.

"I have utmost confidence in you. For this mission it's primary bridge duty, under the direct command of the captain. Remember, don't call her sir, whatever you do. Out there tomorrow I'll bet she fights like a pirate, so be prepared for some interesting dirty tricks." The big blonde straightened up and eyed the junior grade lieutenant archly. "This will be your moment, Miss Dox. The one you've been preparing for your entire life. Your one moment in time, when you're racing with destiny."

The serious expression couldn't hold, and Paris grinned. "Make me proud tomorrow, okay?"

"You'll have a ship to come back to, Commander." Dox replied with the Stern look still on her face and her mind racing. "What do we have on these Chariot things? I should review whatever we know before tomorrow."

Producing a PaDD from her desktop, the commander flipped it around in a practiced motion to hand it to Dox. "This is the telemetry from the third decoy probe- the ones with warp signatures and lifeform bluffs, to see what the response time was. Which was surprisingly fast. The last one got some good scans of weaponry and firing rates, so this is what we've got."

"All right, Dox. I apologize for assuming you'd shit yourself like I would have in your shoes. Apparently I shouldn't have bothered you with it. You're free to go do what you do." The first officer levered herself back off the edge of the desk and moved back around it so take a seat again.

"Thank you, Commander." Dox took the PaDD and brought it close to her chest, pausing Midway through standing up only to sit back down. "I don't... I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. And I'm going to do my best to keep her flying. But... This is your ship." Dox but her lip slightly fighting back a desire to lock back down. "What would you do?"

The expression on the face of the out-of-time officer softened as she looked over the desk at the untested lieutenant. "Evade. Use the orbit paths and surf the gravitates for slingshots and tight turns. Use the multitude of obstacles not as a hindrance for you, but a hazard to them as they pursue. Drop your torpedoes for effect. Laying them in the path of a starship works far better than at them unless you are charging them, riding in the receding shockwaves like I showed you. Use your sensors to jam theirs, coordinate with science for telemetries on the fly, hide you while you run to their flank..."

Cocking her head, Rita Paris leaned onto her desk, clasping her hands before her. "I wasn't going to tell you how to fly out there, yet here we are. For the record, you are incorrect, Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox. This is NOT my ship. I'm just a pilot like you who stepped up for the next rung in my career. This is Captain Telvan's ship. And she knows her better than anyone. You're going to be on her bridge tomorrow, and she will likely have a few ideas. But don't be shy, trust your instincts, communicate and always remember those four magic words."

"With the captain's indulgence."

"Say that and pull it off and all will most will likely be forgiven," the seasoned officer advised the rookie. "Besides, I've only been CFCO form a month and a half maybe? Stupid stardate calendar I still can't get the hang of. But she's hardly my lady. I got to dock her. Once."

The expression on the face of the junior officer had journeyed from tired to anxious to stern and back to anxious and was now settling back to just being tired. With the adrenaline of learning what mission was ahead of her starting to wear off, Dox felt herself begin to relax a little. "Thanks, Commander." She said casually.

"I've lived our here most of my life, but I've never... I've only ever read about missions like this at the academy." Dox gestured slightly with the PaDD in her hand. "And you're right, I don't really know much about your life other then what's in your public personnel file. But your experience with encounters like this... For lack of a better descriptor... is..." She paused briefly, trying to encapsulate a scenario she had only ever imagined, and shifted the subject slightly.

"My father... he's human. And has a kinda obsession with the frontier expansion period of history. The Old West. He thought of himself in those terms and would go on about these old contests called rodeos." She stood up and began walking around the back of her chair, partly acting out the motion of horseback riding.

"I don't know if you've ever read about it. But these people would try and ride these completely crazy aggressive horses and bulls, desperately trying to just hang on for a few seconds. Like, 10 seconds or something." Dox turned back towards Paris, a bit more animated. "And it was never NOT dangerous... but the best riders learned how to hang on through all the bucking anyway and..." She trailed off slightly realizing she was rambling. "Sorry. I guess that's a long way to go to say that it feels like you know how to hang on. So, thank you." Dox looked down at the PaDD in her hand. "I'm trying to learn whatever I can about that, and I appreciate your patience with me."

The smile on the face of the first officer was genuine, and not unkind. “Yes, I know about the old west… kinda been there once… and I know what a rodeo is, so I understand what you’re saying. They still taught horseback riding as an elective at the Academy back in my day, and I was actually on the Equestrian Team. So I’ve been thrown from a horse plenty of times, and I’ve got the broken bones to prove it.”

“Hanging on is important, yes- but you will get thrown. Since we’re running with this analogy, the trick is to get back on the horse again. You won’t dodge every incoming and you won’t make that close scrape every time. The trick is to get back on and keep telling that crazy bucking bronco where to go.” Somehow in that moment is was not that difficult to picture the blonde bombshell astride a mythical animal of old earth, with a straw hat perched on her head.

“As for my patience, once upon a time I was not unlike you Miss Dox- a junior officer waiting for her chance to prove herself, and terrified that all those years of hearing I wasn’t good enough and that I wasn’t the officer for the job and that I should just stay close to home were right. And I’m here today to tell you that voice is a liar.” Paris opened her hands and spoke with them as she explained.

“You’re good, Dox. On sheer skill alone you’re a better pilot than me, and I don’t mind saying so,” the anachronistic astronaut admitted. Which, in Melanie’s experience, was unheard of- no pilot ever admitted to someone else, particularly a junior officer, that their skills surpassed their own. Yet here sat Rita Paris, larger than life, doing just exactly that. “I believe in you not because I have to- Ensign Gonadie is a remarkable pilot, and she could handle this mission. But this is your time, and I know that if I put you on that bridge tomorrow, you’re probably going to get a medal for what you do for the Hera. That’s the confidence I have in you, and frankly I think you need to hear it.”

Accepting praise of any kind was extremely difficult for Dox, but she was working at trying to change how she thinks. In particular, how she thinks about herself, and she was learning that Rita Paris did not hand out praise of any kind lightly. Nevertheless, she blushed and hoped the eagle-eyed First Officer hadn't noticed, even though her limited experience on the USS Hera was quickly demonstrating to her that was a futile hope. Something she smiled about realizing that she was becoming okay with that.

"Thanks. I'm..." Dox paused for a slight moment thinking strongly on her words and speaking from the heart. "I really appreciate it." She thought about rambling further, but decided to not try and overcompensate and just stay with what she felt.

“You’re welcome. As for me and getting to know me, I’ll tell you what. A little game one of my old CO’s used to play was 20 questions. You ask me, I ask you and we get to know one another better. Builds bridges when you can see another officer as a person with a history, hopes and dreams farther than just a rankest above yours that you don’t always understand because you can’t predict anything about an anomaly. So,” Paris rapped the desktop twice, gently. “When I get back from this away mission and we’re settled down a bit, you and I will exchange a little information and get to know one another a bit better. Not a requirement, not an order, just a suggestion. Aye?”

Six years stationed on remote and lonely Starbases, and Melanie Dox had rarely tried to engage personally with her other crewmates, as they were even more rarely found reaching in her direction. But she was quickly learning that the Hera was something special. As was her crew. "That would be really nice, Commander." Dox said with a wide and open smile as she ran her fingers back across a loose strand of hair that had popped out. "And all the more reason to keep the Hera in one piece."

That got a peal of laughter and a cheery grin as a response. “Well, hopefully there are plenty of other reasons, Lieutenant. But yes, I’d like that. You’re going to go far in Starfleet if you aren’t careful, Miss Dox. Part of my job is to prepare you for it, just as the officers in my career did for me.”

“So, anything else before I hand you the keys to the car, as they say?” The exact statement made very little sense, but the spirit of the statement still shone through.

"No, Commander." Dox replied, thinking about the anachronistic comments that the friendly First Officer peppered into almost everything she said, realizing that she was certain to learn far more on this ship then she had ever imagined. "Thank you."

“You are welcome, Miss Dox,” the old-school officer offered. “Go eat, drink and be merry, and get yourself a good night’s sleep. You’re part of the crew of the Hera, and tomorrow we’ll make history… that most folks will never know or read about. But we’ll do our part to make the galaxy a better place. And you are a part of that. Now go on, go have a little fun tonight.”

Fun wasn't even sort of on Dox's mind, but she considered the First Officers words for the briefest of moment. She knew it wasn't an order but it was a suggestion she felt it was a smart idea to take. She still had plenty of time to review the PaDD before the mission and being exhausted and tense wouldn't be good at the helm. "Thank you commander, I think I will. Good evening."

The appointment was set, and at the appointed hour the gold-clad commander in the mod minidress strode into the Chief Counselor's office, PaDD tucked behind her back.

"So I created a temporal loop paradox by sending the communicator. The question is, was Sonak really in the timestream behind me when I arrived, or upon receipt of my message did he alter time when he came after me and we now live in that divergent reality?"

What was the point of having a Ship's Counselor who had worked for the Department of Temporal Investigations if you couldn't have discussions like this, reasoned Rita Paris.

Avender smiled and stood in the presence of the First Officer. "That's an interesting question. What more can you tell me? And has DTI been informed?"

"See, that's a problem I have with you, Counselor," the gold-clad commander walked into the room, wagging her finger as she did. "I asked you a question. One in which I presented two possible answers. Yet you didn't answer my question. Instead, you threw two more at me. Y'see, doing that discounts my question. When you discount my question, you discount me. And this is a habit of yours, Counselor." The first officer chose a comfortable looking seat and lowered herself down into it, smoothing her skirt as she did so in a practiced motion. "I'd like to discuss that. Why are you so evasive of questions, Counselor?"

The Betazoid's black irised eyes became a little colder, but her smile never wavered. She sat down in the chair next to the couch, and crossed her long legs.

"Let's address the second part of your inquiry first. Why do I ask probing questions? Well, Commander, it's because that is my training. I am a Chief Counselor for the Starfleet of the United Federation of Planets. My job is to help others find their answers by asking probing questions. As a telepath, I could just pop into your mind and find the answers, but one, that wouldn't help you, and two, the Captain has asked me not to do it. On your planet, it's called Socratic method. On Betazoid, it is called Pacyan's Layer Approach. In any case, it's how I do my job.

Avender stood. "Computer." *chirp* "Disengage Counselor office recording until I say otherwise. Authorization Jurot 6345789."

"Disengaged" the computer's voice responded.

Avender locked her eyes on the Gold clad officer in front of her, her smile gone. "Commander, I get the distinct feeling that you do not like me. I don't need to be an empath to feel that. Perhaps you feel threatened by me, I don't know. You have come here, asking very difficult technical questions about quantum time mechanics, and then, when I ask for clarification, you question my methods."

Avender paced a bit, eyes downcast. "Is it because I worked at DTI, and therefore you think I know EVERYTHING about its operations? I mean, doesn't everyone know every job at their billet? The answer is I haven't the foggiest idea." She turned to face Paris, tears forming in her eyes.

"Do you know what I did for DTI? Interrogations and erasures! Occasionally I'd handle PTSD and adaptation to a new time or place, but my primary function was to determine if the subject in question was telling the whole truth, to learn any possible intelligence, and erase their memory of being in this time and place before we sent them back. No matter how long they'd been here. It's like the Federation sees Betazoids at walking lie detectors, and that's all."

The tears flowed freely. "Do you know what it means to erase a subject's memories? It's like cutting fine silk threads connecting experience to experience, being careful not to erase everything. I see the memories I erase. Every single one."

The Counselor's face reddened. "Then they wanted me to interrogate prisoners of war. Would you like to know about Cardassian ground battle tactics? I erased them from one of their best generals. Commander, I know more about your time than YOU do, because it seems there is some kind of ionic conduit between the centuries. I've erased the memories of more than a dozen people from your time." She took a tissue from the box on the table, and wiped away her tears.

"I drew the line when they wanted me to erase a mother's memory of her infant daughter, because of the child's unique quantum signature. DTI wanted to keep the child for 'research.' I refused. After that, my duties were reduced to clerical. That's when I requested the transfer."

"We HAVE to be better than that, Commander. We HAVE to stand for something higher, or we're no better than the Borg."

Chief Counselor Jurot sat again, and adjusted her tunic. "THAT is why I ask questions, Commander. Not to discount you or your questions, but to help you find the answers. If you think I'm not doing my job up to Starfleet standards, you are free to refer the matter to the Captain. My answer to your first question is 'Chicken or the egg.' DTI would take weeks to research and answer that question. I would suggest you refer the matter to them. But you may not like the result. I heard the counselor who replaced me is rather ruthless in erasures."

Avender's face was expressionless. "Next question?"

"Seeing as how that wasn't an answer to my question, I'll stop asking them," As Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris leaned in, there was no mirth, nor the customary smile on the face of the ancient astronaut. Instead, her expression was grave. "Instead, let's address those points of yours, Counselor, since we're now off the record."

"The day I met you, I kept asking questions you didn't answer while you went on about your extensive experience. You asked about my transporter anxiety, but after a very honest explanation, you took that opportunity to brag about how you had seen plenty like me at the Department of Temporal Investigations. You expressed not a shred of empathy nor compassion for my experience, but took it as an opportunity for you to brag and dismiss my experience. I mentioned the crew had PTSD, you made that about yourself as well," The commander was on a roll, and was not giving pause for any interruption. "You mentioned your loss, I offered my condolences. I handed you a map, you asked where we were going. I explained onboarding and you wanted everyone to come to you so the meeting could be more convenient for you rather than doing it in the manner everyone else is required to do it."

"Now all of that might have just been warp lag. Maybe you were just having an incredibly off day. But when you pulled your little stunt in 10-Forward, I did my best to keep you from compounding it, and at least you took that cue." Those blonde brows came down in an expression of anger the counselor had not previously seen on the face of the first officer. "The part where you so casually mentioned that you could implant thoughts, change emotions, and even erase memories and can slip into and out of an untrained mind undetected? I think you intended for that to come off as more self-aggrandizement."

"Which, given the emotional display you just put out here which was apparently meant to inspire guilt and sympathy, one would imagine that you would never mention that to anyone, given how upset and ashamed you seem to be about it." Those blue eyes of the human explorer narrowed. "But what it really came across as was a threat, pure and simple. You had no regret in that moment- you were puffing yourself up and grandstanding. Talking tough to attempt to intimidate us."

"That was in response to me asking how you approach treating your patients. Hell of an answer, Counselor." Paris sat back and crossed her legs carefully with a practiced ease. "Even in that diatribe you just laid on me, you bragged that you know more about the time I grew up in than I do, because you've met dozens of travelers from my era? You honestly don't hear how condescending and arrogant that sounds, do you? How alienating it is to the other person who is ostensibly your patient? How it diminishes their experience to claim yours is so much greater than literally their entire life experience?"

"So if I do feel threatened by you, perhaps that's because thus far in my experience you have shown yourself to be an empath with no empathy, which I find to be a dangerous thing. You are a prideful telepath, which I find to be a dangerous thing. You are a counselor who doesn't listen to directly addressed questions, but takes the opportunity to talk, to bluster and boast about herself. Who, when confronted, tries to manipulate with tears and guilt." Paris took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"My next question is, you are aware that taking this off the record without the patient's express consent is a violation of Starfleet regulation, Starfleet Medical regulation in addition to a violation of my privacy and my safety as a patient? All of which is adding to that overall negative impression of you which I have now in part explained?"

Having made her point, Rita Paris rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and leaned her head against her fingers to see if the Counselor was listening this time, and had the capacity to see how her actions had been perceived externally.

Avender sat quietly for what seemed like an eternity, her face blank. "Computer," she said.

*chirp*

"Resume recording. Authorization Jurot 6345789"

She sat for a few seconds more. "You've given me a lot to consider, Commander. Thank you."

“So I have,” the driven career officer replied before pressing her point. “Now I am curious to hear your thoughts on what I’ve just given you to consider. This isn’t going to be brushed aside, Ensign. We’re having this discussion. You are a mental health professional who is responsible for helping the crew deal with a great many pressures, both internal and external.”

“It very much appears to me that you don’t have your own house in order, so to speak.” The first officer worked hard to put forth a friendly and welcoming persona, particularly to the new crew who were unfamiliar with the Hera. But clearly this was another side of the woman, as the warmth and welcoming tones were conspicuously absent. This was less friendly first officer and more the stern executive officer who was expecting answers. “That inclines me to review more of your performance than my personal experience with you thus far, in order to determine your actual fitness for duty. So with all of that said, I would very much like to discuss those points I have raised instead of being dismissed. Last time I checked I’ve still got about 50 minutes left of my appointment, so we have the luxury of time and privacy.”

After another protracted silence, the first officer leaned in. "Look. Avendar. I'm reaching across the aisle here. The Captain isn't here, there hasn't been an incident as yet, and I haven't shoved you into a torpedo casing to drop you in on Hera's court just so you can get turned to whatever it is she'd find entertaining to do to you and we can study the readings. Although the thought has certainly crossed my mind." Paris shrugged a bit sheepishly at that.

"Drop the bullshit defenses and talk to me. Give me some help understanding your choices and behavior. You're this amazing empath, so as I understand it, this close to me you can't really help but know what I'm feeling. So feel," Paris cocked her head, and the desire to help was strong, along with a touch caution, a little healthy fear, a minor anxiety and a bit of hope. "I want to help you, but I can't unless you come clean with me. As my dear departed daddy would say, 'what the hell is wrong with you?', Miss Jurot?"

"Yes, I am an empath," Avender said evenly. "In my experience and training, one lets someone who is angry vent their feelings before responding, and you are clearly angry- angry enough to threaten me."

The Chief Counselor stood. "You will pardon me if I take issue with some of your interpretations of events. What you call bragging was simply me explaining my abilities to superior officers so they know of my abilities. What you call a 'stunt' I saw as efficiently completing onboarding in a group setting. Yes, using my telepathy was ill-advised, and I won't make that mistake again."

The Betazoid put her hands behind her back in a casual pose. "Then, I opened up to you, and you say it was only for sympathy. It wasn't, Commander. Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again either. As for your quoting regulations, regulations state that a counselor may turn off the recorder when discussing classified information, which I did. And as for quoting regulations, I'll just say I'm the only one in this room wearing a regulation uniform from this century."

"So," Avender sighed, "you ask me what's wrong with me? I'm not sure, but I will meditate on it to find the answers. I'd disclose more on that process, but I wouldn't want to be accused of 'bragging.'" She then sat down again. "You've painted me into a corner, Commander. To use your planet's slang, whatever I say to you, you'll call 'bullshit.' Do I have 'an issue'? Yes. What is it? I'll find out and get back to you. So, in the time we have remaining, I'll ask you the same thing you asked me: 'what the hell is wrong with you?', Commander Paris?"

The counselor's face never changed expression.

The face of her tirade's audience, that of the anachronistic astronaut, changed as the counselor spoke. Any compassion the woman had for the counselor drained away, as her words and actions were so clearly misinterpreted by such the supposed expert. Rising, she straightened her uniform, picked up her PaDD and offered a perfunctory humorless smile as she began to tap at it. "Have it your way, Counselor. You'll get exactly what you've asked for- you'll be our first delegate to Hera. You ship out in 18 hours. I very much look forward to seeing your magnificent negotiation skills in action. I'm sure you'll do far better than anyone else whom she murdered, petrified or transformed into a very clever animal."

"Either way, this isn't a threat, it's a direct order. You're not to see any patients for the remainder of your stay on this vessel, and should you return from this mission, you're off this boat. You are free to interpret my words and actions however you like, and when we are no longer on radio silence you may file whatever reports you wish with whatever authorities you wish in complaint. But your days on the Hera are numbered. Well, hours," the commander corrected herself.

"As for all of the myriad things that are wrong with me, Ensign," the old-school officer observed, "you wouldn't have the slightest clue. Because the first rule of any sort of therapy is to listen. If you aren't listening, it's all pointless. Pretty much like you, Ensign Jurot. Now that I've taken my shot at reaching you and failing, given your condescension and bullshit? NOW I'm angry. Try reading your patients, if you are still allowed to counsel anyone in the future."

Striding to the door of the counselor's office, the first officer turned to take a good look, as if to remember the Betazoid woman. Shaking her head, she sighed. "Goodbye, Ensign."

Avender looked at the door, closed her eyes, and cried.

It was a strange thing, all told, for a Vorta to look up ways to kill gods. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on Vaemyn as he relaxed in his quarters, idly reading a story on a PADD. Ancient Klingon epics were highly entertaining, although Vaemyn knew that few of his fellow Vorta would've enjoyed such a tale. Revolting against one's gods was an uncomfortable subject, after all, painfully close to heresy, and most Vorta shied away from such things.

Of course, most Vorta didn't lounge half-naked in their quarters with a bottle of strawberry arsenic. Having worked a long shift, Vaemyn was quite content to simply relax in his chair, his toned violet chest pleasantly cool, his shorts wonderfully comfortable. It was all sinfully hedonistic.

"Oh Vaemyn, are you still reading?" came a seductive male voice from the bedroom. In due course, the other examples of Vaemyn's hedonism sauntered into the main room, both looking distinctly mischievous. Hess, the tall, broad-shouldered dark-skinned human from Security, looked supremely confident in his physicality, a mere white towel preserving his modesty. Nef, the similarly tall and curvaceous Trill girl from Engineering, had the same devliish glint in her eye. Her own towel, while preserving her modesty like her partner in crime, was very pointedly shaped to reveal her ample cleavage.

"Researching how to kill gods is my job, after all," Vaemyn said to them both, chuckling at the unabashed playfulness in his bedfellows. "Are you done already with your shower? Truly Hess, I recall you lasting longer than that."

Hess laughed as he reached Vaemyn, planting a firm kiss on the Vorta's mouth. "Blame Nef. She's talented, my friend. Besides, I have to be on duty in ninety minutes. No time to waste."

Nef snorted, mock-punching Hess in the shoulder. "No time to waste? Oh yeah, very romantic, Hess."

Hess grinned, but before he could retort, a high-pitched beep interrupted their play. Incoming subspace transmission for Lieutenant Vaemyn from Bajor the computer announced smoothly.

Nef and Hess looked at each other in surprise, but seeing the conflicted look in Vaemyn's eyes, they seemed to come to a silent accord. "We'll give you some privacy, Vae," Nef said pleasantly, kissing him in turn, before she took Hess' hand to lead him back to the bedroom. "We'll be waiting in bed."

Vaemyn nodded, smiling faintly, although his smile faltered as the bedroom door closed and he redirected his attention to the large display on the wall. A message from Bajor was, after all, not something to be relished for a Vorta war criminal. It could be anything from a tender message of forgiveness to a demand by the Bajoran government that Vaemyn be sent right back to prison. Hesitantly, Vaemyn stood and accepted the call.

The display resolved to show two very unexpected individuals. One of them, an older human woman of Middle-Eastern descent, wore a work dress of some sort, but the other...

"Founder!" Vaemyn blurted in shock, his eyes wide. Hurriedly he bowed his head, bending in his hands palm-upwards in prayer. "You grace me with your call, Hammi! How do you come to be on Bajor?"

The Founder smiled at his protege. "It is a long story, my friend. Emissary al-Jilani will explain."

And so she did. The following few minutes would change Vaemyn's life forever.





The next morning on the Bridge, as the Hera was at warp en route to wage war against its divine namesake, Vaemyn found himself strangely nervous. He didn't get nervous often, at least not in a socio-professional context, but now, there was undeniable jitters in his stomach. Soon enough, the time came for his scheduled meeting with Captain Telvan, Commander Paris and Sonak, so Vaemyn hesitantly left his station at the back of the Bridge to walk to the captain's ready room and press the chime.

Enalia hadn't been looking forward to this either. She'd come to rely on her Vorta Science Chief rather heavily. She knew it was too good to be true though, and the orders she had received this morning, as well as the meeting request, that she had received this morning were proof of that. Fortunately, her Yeoman had scheduled a meeting time that was hopefully convenient for all four of them and that time was now. She just hoped everyone was on time.

"Come in," Called the spotted woman, smiling sadly as she saw that it was Vaemyn that had arrived first after all. "It's good to see you again. Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? I have some Bidu root tea extract, if you'd like some. It's lethal to most humanoids."

"Very thoughtful, Captain, thank you," Vaemyn said pleasantly as he walked in, even if he had the same sad smile. "Thank you for accepting the meeting. I wanted to explain the reassignment orders that Starfleet Command have surely sent you."

Reaching into her desk, Enalia pulled out a small wooden box with ornate carvings of death symbolism and slid it over to the purple skinned man. "I'll let you handle that. I can't even touch it or I'll get sick. Computer, mug of hot water, please." As the drink replicator built into the desk replicated a mug of hot water, Enalia continued. "I got the transfer orders, but they were vague at best. I hope you don't mind that I asked Commander Paris and Lieutenant Sonak to join us as well."

"Naturally," Vaemyn replied with a nod as he accepted the box. He replicated a mug of hot water for himself, before gently opening the box to reveal the tiny, inocuous roots. Gently he took one of the roots and dipped it into the water, which promptly frothed violently before turning into acidic green. It was a lovely gesture to him as they waited for the newlyweds; few captains would've had the generosity or wits to offer such a potent poison to a Vorta.

The door opened and Lieutenant Commander Paris entered, looking up from the ever-present PaDD in her hands. The anachronistic astronaut smiled broadly when she noticed the chief science officer, nursing what looked to be a mad scientist’s potion in his hands, which somehow seemed par for the course for the Vorta scientist.

“Captain, Lieutenant,” the cheerful commander offered in a light tone, taking a seat on the bench off to the side of the Captain’s desk, habitually smoothing out her short skirt as she did so. Long legs scissored against one another as she crossed her legs and perched, spine erect and eyes alert, waiting to see why the meeting was called. When she was the dumbest person in the room, Rita Paris knew how to listen. And given the company, she wasn’t about to match IQs with anyone in the ready room.

Sonak came in about a minute later, which was the exact appointed time he had been given. When the call came, he was in the science department, working to get acclimated with all the specific equipement and research projects this unique starship had to offer, as well as with his duties as assistant to the chief science officer; not to mention the demanding mission ahead of them. Without batting an eye, he had acknowledged the call and was now entering the captain's ready room hands behind his back, noting with one glance the formal attitude of everyone; more than what he had expected from a call to the commanding officer's office.

There was an emotional tension in the room, especially between his commanding officer and his department chief. Rita for her part was like a blank slate, with obvious curiosity in her eyes despite her very professional mien.

So there was something about the higher command of the ship to which he was involved... or to be involved with. All his superior officers were here and he was the only junior officer in the room. Disciplinary action? Most unlikely. Nothing he had done could ever require and the captain, and the exec, and his department chief; had it been so, he would not have been called; a security guard would have arrested him.

Speculation was useless. Hence why Vulcans did not speculate. Still, the thought had crossed his mind.

Another echo of Rita's mind he understood before standing at attention.

"Lieutenant Sonak reporting as ordered, Captain."

"Excellent. Please have a seat. Rita, Sonak, please help yourself to the replicator if you'd like." Enalia leaned back in her own seat and settled in with her own teacup. "Lieutenant Vaemyn has orders and will be leaving us. Thus, we're all involved in some personnel shifts. As for the orders themselves, If you could start us off by explaining them?"

Vaemyn nodded grimly. "To the crux of it, then. Two weeks ago, while on an exploratory mission in the Gamma Quadrant, the USS Ardent discovered a Borg staging ground near Dominion borders. An armada of cubes, perhaps as many as eight, are preparing to invade the Dominion. I expect that my brethren are mobilising the Jem'Hadar, but even the amassed might of the Dominion may be unable to defeat such overwhelming force. The Founders, great and noble as they are, may not able to protect us."

Then he paused, plainly uncomfortable at the idea of the Borg threatening his home. It was an odd thing given that Vaemyn had never actually been to the Gamma Quadrant, having been created on Cardassia at the height of the war, but it pained him regardless. "The Federation has offered aide to the Dominion, and in their blessed wisdom, the Founders have accepted. A task force of Starfleet vessels is being assembled at Bajor at this very moment. My creator...my father, perhaps, as you would call him, has been freed from prison to aid this task force. Given my unique knowledge of both Federation and Dominion science, I have also been reassigned to the task force to aid however I can."

Then Vaemyn smiled sadly at everyone. "As I understand it, this has no bearing on our...ah, my apologies. I mean to say, it has no bearing on your mission to combat Hera. There are, after all, many starships capable of fighting the Borg, but only one starship in all the galaxy capable of fighting those ancient super-beings who call themselves gods."

"And only one of you." Enalia didn't like losing one of the most skilled scientists under her command, but this was how it was and he was needed elsewhere. "I can honestly say that their odds of success, even with all their other resources, are greatly improved now that you're helping them out. If you need anything from us before you go, please let us know."

Glancing over to the pair on the couch, Enalia's expression turned a bit more dour. "And since this means Lieutenant Sonak is now being promoted to Chief Science Officer... Commander Paris, you're now married to a direct subordinate. It's not technically against regs, but I'll expect the same professionalism as usual, of course. Lieutenant, congratulations on your promotion."

"We've got a lot of practice at it, ma'am," Rita deadpanned. "Plus, he's not exactly prone to emotional outbursts."

Sonak didn't bat an eye.

"If I may be so bold, Captain; it is unfortunate that it comes under such circumstances. I was looking forward to work with Lieutenant Vaemyn and prove my worth to you and to this ship under his guidance. But no one controls every variable of existence. I come to serve. I shall endeavor to do my best for you and your ship with all the skill and professionalism your confidence demands."

He then turned to the Vorta.

"Lieutenant Vaemyn; I will not have the privilege of working with you and of learning from you. The loss is mine. I cannot replace you; but I shall do my best to succede you. May your own new path leads you to success."

He raised his hand in the celebrated Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper, Lieutenant Vaemyn."

Vaemyn smiled, raising a hand to try and mimic the salute before realising after some fumbling that it might take some practice. "And the same to you, Sonak. While I regret that we are robbed of the opportunity to collaborate, you are a truly gifted scientist, more so than is generally known by Starfleet. I knew as much within minutes of reading your work. This promotion will, I would hope, enable you to fully realise your nascent potential. I hope that we meet again one day."

Standing, Rita extended her arms for a hug. "C'mere you amazing person. You were the first one who took me seriously on this boat, and you might just have saved my life. I'm going to miss the joy you took in exploration... I hope someday you find your way back to us. You mapped a dark matter storm. Scientists have been trying for centuries, and you did it within hours. You're one a hell of a scientist, and a good shipmate."

Vaemyn found himself taken by surprise by the hug, but he nevertheless stood to receive it, chuckling. The hug was admittedly somewhat odd given the commander's impressive torso, somewhat like hugging a warm bouncy cushion, but he appreciated the gesture. "Thank you, Rita. I do hope to meet you again one day as well. It has been a pleasure to serve with such an eccentric yet brilliant officer."

Upon emerging from the hug, Vaemyn directed his smile at the captain, although now it grew somber. "Captain, I was ordered to rendezvous with the USS Bulwark as soon as possible, so I request the use of a shuttle. If I leave immediately and fly at maximum warp, I can be onboard the Bulwark and therefore en route to Bajor within six hours." He paused, then snapped to firm attention, an altogether ridiculous look for the chirpy and informal Vorta. Nevertheless, for once, there was a look of absolute seriousness to him. For perhaps the first time since he'd come onboard the Hera, Vaemyn looked like a true Starfleet lieutenant, determined to carry out his duty.

"Permission to disembark, ma'am," he asked formally.

Enalia also stood and came to attention - a rare sight indeed. "Permission granted to both disembark and to take a type nine shuttle. They're the fastest we've got. Good luck out there, Lieutenant. I know you'll do us all proud."

"Yes ma'am," Vaemyn replied seriously, although he couldn't stop that amicable smile from returning as he nodded to Sonak and Rita. With that, he turned and left, soon to leave the ship itself as well. The crew of the USS Hera had their war to fight, to battle and defeat the malevolent deity that was threatening the Federation, while Vaemyn was setting off to defend his home against a horrific and evil threat.

Both had their part to play. Time would tell if either survived the coming maelstrom of blood, fire and tears.

The command had been given and the wheels were in motion. The stealth probe was making its rounds of the outer edge of the Meroset system, mapping out the hundreds of scattered planetoids and planets that comprised the system. Plotting courses through the seemingly erratic and eccentric orbits of the system would be made possible due in no small part through this scanning run, as the probe faithfully scanned, recorded and reported the data back to the Hera.

Standing in Stellar Cartography observing a three-dimensional map of an alien solar system assemble and update itself, Paris marveled at the 24th century science. Sure, a probe could be launched in her day, but the data transmitted would not have been this detailed from the Exeter herself, forget about a class-1 probe. Yet here she stood, watching the 347 planetoids that comprised the Merkoset system assemble themselves in three dimension, spinning their various orbits.

No wonder the goddess Hera had chosen this is as her base of operations. You’d have to be a lunatic or a genius to pilot something so large as the USS Hera through this system, forget about performing maneuvers or actual space combat. Fortunately the Hera had both, and as she would be on an away mission in a far smaller warship, Rita would have to be confident in young Miss Dox and Mona Gonadie to keep the starship clear of catastrophe.

Life in Starfleet was about trusting one’s shipmates to get the job done, and that was what Rita would have to do.

Debating launching the next series of stealth probes, Rita consulted the timestamp on the probe’s datastream. 45 minutes ago she had requested that the captain join her in Stellar cartography, ideally to authorize launch of the probe as well as analyzing the incoming data. But no one had shown, and now she debated launching the next wave of probes, which would attempt to decoy while stealth probed moved in over Meroset 347 itself, scouting the planet upon which Hera had settled and was using as a base to wage war with the rest of the universe.

“Never assume authority, seek permission from the chain of command,” Paris sighed, quoting a rulebook she’d read 140 years ago. Tapping her left breast, her comm badge chirruped cheerfully.

“Lieutenant Commader Paris to Captain Telvan. Permission to launch the second wave of probes, ma’am?”

Rather than replying to the call over the comms, the door to Stellar Cartography opened, revealing the Captain herself in a somewhat disheveled state. Pausing just inside the door, she tugged down on her uniform, smoothed it out, and tucked her hair back in place before proceeding further in.

"Yes, I believe we're ready for that. Sorry for being late. I just got off the comms with Command. Apparently they sent another Oberth class full of ambassadors - this one had a mix of races that were all women. We should be able to see the remains at around Lagrange seventeen I think..." Stepping up to the controls, Enalia tapped in the rough coordinates and found half a warp nacelle and part of a saucer in a cloud of debris. "Yeah that's the Cairn's Worthy... Looks like they've been stripping the pods off the bottom to make it in-system, too. Let's send one of the probes near there to see if we can find the mission data recorder. Other than that, stick with the previous scanning pattern."

Taking in everything that was being said, Paris noted the locale and the data, then refocused. “Captain, what’s going on? You’re never late and you are a, ah, bit out of sorts. Anything I should know about?”

While Paris would never have such a discussion on the bridge nor in front of a member of the crew, Stellar Cartography was currently devoid of personnel, for security reasons. Because while she had not been instructed to do so, the First Officer did not want any findings making the rounds as scuttlebutt around the USS Hera. This mission was already incredibly dangerous and potentially deadly. The last thing that was needed was for the crew to be disseminating potentially demoralizing information before the mission engaged.

Thus, it being just the two of them, the old-school officer took a chance to broach protocol a bit and exhibit some degree of concern for her somewhat out of sorts commanding officer.

Enalia paused for a moment, not entirely sure how to answer that question, or even if she should. Eventually, she looked up from the controls to the holography of the wreckage. "It wasn't entirely an ambassadorial mission. Commodore Farenia Meowlith, our liaison from Intel Command was the mission lead. She was..." The words caught in her throat as she looked back down at the console. It took her a moment to recompose herself in front of Rita. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it. Just old personal feelings getting in the way again. She's been volunteering for dangerous missions like this since our academy days so it's nothing new."

“I think I understand, ma’am,” Paris wrapped an arm around the captain’s shoulders and gave a squeeze. Again, it was nothing she would ever consider doing in front of the crew, but they were alone. The Commodore had been brought up before, so Rita knew of her significance to the starship captain. “Given your relationship I understand, ma’am. Now it’s a little more personal for you. From what you’ve said, the Commodore’s a survivor, ma’am. We’ll find her.”

The half hug was comforting, to say the least. Enalia rested one hand on the hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze back. "That's true. She somehow survived Miltor five, the Master's infection, the Giltan pits, nearly being eaten by sehlats, and so many other things. I'm sure this is just another walk in the park for her. A really messed up park..." Sighing softly, the spotted woman looked back up at the wreckage before zooming back out to the whole system view. "Let's get those probes going, shall we?"

A good officer knew when to press the boundaries and when to take a cue, and Rita Paris had been doing this for a very long time now. Patting the captain’s back reassuringly, the fulsome first officer turned her attention to the holographic display of the Merkoset system, then pressed the button authorizing the launch of the next set of probes. This in turn would trigger the launch of the secondary stealth probes. “Probes are away, Captain. We should begin receiving initial telemetry within 90 seconds.”

Silently Rita eyed the tiny debris field that had once been a starship, and worried all over again. The Oberth class was one that had been in service since nearly her time, and were not known for their offensive nor defensive capabilities. The Hera would fare better, she was confident, but it still worried her. The captain would be in command, and both Dox and Monadie were able pilots. They would be fighting a battle on multiple fronts, and Captain Telvan knew when to cut her losses and run.

This will be quite the crucible for our Miss Dox,” Paris opined, killing time by discussing particulars. “I have high hopes for her. I’m considering recommending promoting her to CFCO if she performs well on this mission. Your thoughts?”

"Do you know what one of the hardest things I had to ever admit was?" Enalia asked, glancing over at Rita. "That at the height of my piloting career, there was a better pilot than me out there. You know what I did when that day happened? I made both of them my CFCO. Mona forwarded me the recent simulation results and though they were a bit shaky... I think she has promise. If this mission goes well, the position is hers."

“Why captain, I did not know you had such pride in your skills,” Rita replied, not in a mocking but a soft surprised tone. “Well, for what it’s worth, you are likely still a better pilot than me. I’ve spent too much time on so many other positions that I never really excelled at any of them. Now that most of my comms skills are basically useless and my piloting is perpetually trying to catch up, the only thing I might be decent at is navigation, which is tactical now? But even then, I am not up to date on all of the phase modulation strategies and such.”

“Long and short ma’am, you are still a better pilot than I ever was. And I agree, Dox has what it takes, if she can make it through this mission.” Paris left out the unspoken ‘assuming we all survive this mission’, because both women knew the risks, and it was not in her nature to belabor the negative.

“Probes are entering system now, ma’am,” the first officer observed. “Decoys are in the lead- let’s see how observant our wayward goddess is, shall we?”

After a few moments, the first decoy blinked out. A few more seconds and the second one did as well. The third decoy seemed to pass by the system patrol chariots unhindered though. "That was unexpected. I wonder why..." Enalia punched up the data feed from the last decoy and saw that it was being chased down a bit slower than the rest. "Ah, I see. They're letting us scan a bit before they take it out - letting us know they know we're here." After a couple more moments the last decoy was taken out with no sign of pursuit on the stealth probes.

“Well, aren’t they confident. Here’s to Lieutenant Clement’s decoy plan- looks like it’s working. Now to see if things change when they achieve orbit,” Paris observed. “I’m going to need some intel if we’re going to come up with some brilliant plan to cripple an army and a space fleet…”

"We'll have to have a match in the sims later..." Enalia tapped at the controls to check the resolution before staring back at the planet Hera had chosen as her stronghold. "Telemetry looks like it's coming in now. Probes are reading a sort of manufacturing district on the southern continent."

“You are SO on, Captain. It’ll be something to look forward to after the mission,” Paris responded distractedly as she reviewed the data, occasionally poking at a control, making the wrong choice, backing up and trying again.

Side by side with her as they worked, it was clear to the commanding officer that her second in command did not have an intuitive grasp of the technologies with which she was working, nor any actual training. Instead the anachronistic astronaut was poking at the interface through trial and error to accomplish her goals. While she never asked for help nor uttered a word of complaint, it did clearly demonstrate the struggle which Paris routinely faced interacting with the advanced technology with which she had no training nor aptitude. Instead she seemed to function on pluck, determination and an unwillingness to give up.

Enalia sighed and stepped back, deciding to pay more attention to the scans than the console. "Computer, switch controls to Constitution series Scotts three." With a chirrup, the computer replied, reconfiguring the console layout into that resembling a freshly refit Constitution class. There were even a series of seemingly useless chunky lights at the top of the console now, happily blinking away. The pale blue LCARS may have been still a bit newer than Rita's era, but it was at least closer and designed by the leading engineer from then. Enalia just hoped she found it more intuitive.

While the modern throwback's instinct was to belay the order and argue that she had to learn to adapt to the modern day, this mission was too important for ego to get in the way. If Rita screwed up with one of the probes it could jeopardize the entire mission, and lives would be riding on that data, including hers. Instead her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she said nothing as her fingers danced over familiar controls and systems she had been trained on only three years prior, although they were 130 years out of date.

Swallowing one's pride was never easy, but for the good of the mission, Rita did just that, and did her job.

"There's a very big power output from underground there on the smaller subcontinent, but it's obscured... appears to be underground. The generators you think?" Paris observed as the probe made its initial pass over the region of the planet.

"Most likely. Computer, add panel Artan Niner Gamma to the workstation." With a further chirrup, the computer complied as Enalia looked over the decidedly piratical clear glass pane that had been added to one side of the console, out of Rita's way. It showed the scan patterns in a way that most people would find dizzying, but the spotted woman seemed to understand quite well as she tapped on it to zoom in on the indicated subcontinent and study the raw power readings more in-depth. "Yeah, these signatures look like the scans we've gotten from others of her kind. This also matches where the Diplo Corps have sent their failed delegations as well."

Clicking a few of the rocker switches and pressing one of the blinking lit buttons, Rita refined her search. “Wow… that is a very serious output. I’m not getting much from the readings as far as energy type… can we refine the search? And if this is an underground facility, team Selune will have to be very careful not to bring the mountain down on top of themselves.”

"The probe should automatically adjust on the next pass. Let's see what it comes back with before we send out any commands and risk giving away our own position." Enalia tapped her own screen a few times, studying the data as the second pass telemetry started coming in. "It looks like there's a series of catacombs that lead out the back side of the mountain that we might be able to use to our advantage at least."

Absorbing the data as it came in, the officer of another age noted what the captain was seeing, even as the second probe reported another find. “Looks like we found the chariot factory. It seems the complex is part of an active volcano… well, that just made itself a whole lot easier to deal with…”

There was the moment of decision- Rita had been curious but not wanting to press the point. But given the nature of their lives and the limited amount of time the two spent alone, now seemed as good a time as any. Marking another concentration that looked like a training facility of some sort, the chronally-cosmonaut pressed on with the task at hand while inquiring into a personal matter. “The Counselor really set you off with her little display in 10-Forward when she was onboarding. May I respectfully ask what that was all about?”

"You can ask all the questions you want." Enalia kept her focus on the data coming in as the sounds of Stellar Cartography reigned for a while. Then she sighed and relented. "But I suppose you deserve some sort of an answer. During project Gemini, a quantum cloning experiment went wrong and a demonverse clone of the Hera was sucked into existence. My counterpart killed her crew, destroyed her ship, and ejected the bridge module. After trying to destroy her for several days we finally found a way to capture and quarantine her. That's when she found out we could share our thoughts and dreams to an extent. Years passed. Nightmares... I eventually broke her out of the lab she was being kept in to find a way to finally get rid of her. She did that for me, in a way.”

Pausing for a moment to collect herself, Enalia knew it would be better to talk about it in the long run. "She escaped from her brig cell, stole a tri-cobalt bomb, beamed down to Selen Six during a time travel mission, and used it to try to kill the Master, the man we were after ourselves. It blew away about twenty percent of the planet and cracked it to pieces. Everyone on it was instantly killed of course. My great grandmother, Enalia Artan, made her fortune salvaging the aftermath."

“So… telepathy brings back memories of the nightmares?” Paris ventured. Somehow the story of the Demonverse, while all news to her, did not strike her as the least bit implausible not surprising. While she might not know how to operate a probe seven generations more advanced than her training, accepting the weirdness and bizarre realities of the universe were something with which the accidental extradimensional explorer had no issue. After all, she was quite the living representative of such occurrences.

"Having voices in my head like that does." Enalia didn't feel like clarifying so she left it at that. She had worked hard to block or get rid of that damned voice and after all this time it was finally gone. She didn't need some telepath reminding her of it every time they wanted to show off.

“Looks like clear supply lines…” Paris deftly changed the subject. ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ was a mood she didn't have to be an empath to read off the commanding officer, and she respected it. This affected no one but the captain, so Rita filed it away for the future. “You reckon that’s the capitol city there, or just the primary military base? Or both? I notice there are no broadcasts to speak of that we’re picking up. How do you figure they are transmitting data and orders, manually? Maintain control by limiting communications?” Paris clicked another rocker switch and tuned a dial.

"Yeah, nothing. How are they coordinating those space chariots?" Flipping open a panel a window opened in the display and Rita wound the knob back, reviewing data til she came to the last probe. Tuning the scanner feed she watched the weaponry of the chariot flare.

"Odds are they're using a hyperband of subspace buried in the noise floor. That's Command's working theory, anyway. Unfortunately, the only comm equipment Starfleet has that's been able to even pick up what we think is their comm signals is the Midas array." Enalia tapped her panel a few more times as she noticed one of the probes had attracted some attention.

Silver and gold lights lanced out from the canons of the chariot that had chased down the probe. Telemetry came in on all three, but it would take a bit to process the mass of data. "That looks like... Are they generating straight up concentrated solar flares as weapons? We'll have to use the metaphasic shields."

“Well, that’s two mysteries solved. If it’s subspace at least we can jam it when the time comes… I’ll alert Lieutenant Dauntless to prepare,” Rita strategized. “Counselor is still insisting on speaking to Hera personally because she somehow believes she is better at this than three crews of actual diplomats. At this point I’m inclined to let her have her shot- if she surprises us it could bring this conflict to a swift closure.”

Enalia grunted at the thought. "And at the worst we send her to her death and she's a minor distraction to Hera." She thought about it a moment longer. "She's the kind of person I'd shoot myself, if the reports I'm getting on her are true. I'll have Ila pop her down there as soon as the mission starts."

While the first officer was less expedient than the captain when it came to such matters, she’d exhausted options with the Counselor in trying to reach her. So it was easier to just let her try the suicide mission she kept insisting on rather than to continue arguing with someone who seemed incapable of listening. “Aye ma’am, I’ll send the report. And we’ll have a security detail on hand, because I don’t trust her alone with anyone, let alone Dedjoy in the Intel pod. The ensign has made a few too many very clear threats about what she can do to people’s minds for my taste.”

“All right, I think I’ve identified our mission objectives, as well as the rough outline for the Selune’s team. All of the unforeseen aside, I think we’ve got a good shot at pulling this off.” Given that it was just the two of them, Paris laid a hand on the captain’s shoulder. “Dox will give you her all on the bridge, and I’m counting on those sneaky tricks of yours to keep the Hera safe, ma’am. I promise to bring the team back- you’ll make sure we have a ship to come home to, right?”

It wasn’t a speech intended to inspire. Instead, this was the first officer seeking some assurance from her captain. Paris could be brave and confident and assured with every other member of the crew. But the one person she could seek a little reassurance from would be Captain Telvan.

Enalia gave her a very piratical, yet elegant lopsided grin that men had written songs about. "There are two reasons Starfleet sends me for missions like this. No one else is crazy enough, and no one else can get results like I do. Don't worry. You've not seen any of my actual tricks yet. Speaking of which... Make sure Thex gives the tractors and sensors a once over. They'll be quite useful in this battle."

“Aye, ma’am,” Paris smiled, appreciating the gesture. “Care to clue me in as to why?”

"Have you ever used a nutcracker?" Enalia asked, her grin widening. "With all these asteroids, we can easily use the tractor to line up these sixty meter long chariots between the saucer and an asteroid or two and just pop them real quick like a nut. I used to do it all the time with the Lady's Gambit. it's hard on the shields, but I know we can take it. If their ships are built like the one the Asgard destroyed, they can't."

“Remind me to tell you about the time I used the deflectors in reverse and dragged an asteroid field over a mobile carrier by piloting the starship in reverse,” Paris shot back. “I’ll ask Thex to give them a tune-up before we deploy tomorrow. I’d expect a few tricks out of Miss Dox as well- I taught her one or two and she comes from smugglers- I’m sure she will surprise you tomorrow while she’s learning old salt tricks.”

“I think we’ve got what we need, ma’am. We’ll leave the satellites active so you might still get telemetry if we don’t call in. We’ll get the job done, one way or the other. I’ll have three of the smartest people on the ship with me, and we’ll get it worked out.” While she still had not the first inkling of a plan, Rita was reasonably confident that when the chips were down she’d come up with… something. Her service record that didn’t exist in this universe was a testament to her ingenuity, and she had Sonak beside her. The two of them together had never failed yet.

The Main Screen in the Briefing Room was active, with a live telemetry report from the ship's sensors on the Meroset system. The ship's newly-minted Chief of Intel, Lieutenant Samuel Langhorne Clemens the 25th, was at the head of the table, working on finishing touches to the report.

As the requested officers began to file in, he made note of each of them, giving nods and eye contact as they took their seat. He looked more than a little bit tired, but alert.

Sonak entered in tow of chief science officer Vaemyn and sat with him, as part of the science department of the ship to review the report on the probe operation.

The door opened and in walked a shorter then average Bajoran female, she was wearing the skirt and boots, she nodded in greeting but she didn't say anything as she selected a chair before she gently slid her frame into it. She was followed by the tall, curvy Betazoid Chief Councelor.

Doctor Dael squeaked into the room, taking a seat at the far end of the table. The tiny El-Aurian had a PaDD on hand and an anxious look on their face.

French and Sexton made it to the briefing as well. Looking very professional and ready.

The anachronistically-uniformed first officer Rita Paris entered, looking up from the ever-present PaDD in her hands to take a brief head count, nod perfunctorily and find a seat.

The lights in the room dimmed, and the title of the report, "TARGET: HERA!", came on the screen briefly, then a video feed began to play. The identifier in the banner noted that it had been recorded aboard the USS Hera herself.

Clemens did a little bit of exposition, just before the talking started. "This fellah would be Huhmeez...th'Greek gawud of healin' an' such."

{VIDEO 1 PLAYS}

The video paused at Clemens' command. "Now, heah's what we git from this bit:

* Gods need powah soahces, pretty much ohn demand.
* Thuh powah seems t'be vuhsu'tul, as fah as comp-o-zishun.
* They keep lotsa soahces on hand, lahk a toddluh with uh bohtul.
* Intuhfaeh'nce is possibulh, but even this fella seemsta think it'd be hahd, even foah his own peopuhl.
* He seemsta think that messin' with theah tech'd be moah wuhkibuhl.
* He's verruh cun'suhn'd wi'th'well-bein' of th'followuhs an' bystahdnuhs, as we all should be, bein' Stahfleet.
* His assessmuhnt is that unduh noahm'l cuhcum'stances, th'balance 'uh powah tends tuh keep 'em at each uthuh's throats.
* That's obviousleh been distuhb'd, but it indicates theah may be cells uv resistunce theah that we kin reach."

"Theah's sum dawgs, dowun theah. Mebbeh moah than dawgs. Cahtz, elefunts, hell, meebeh big ol'poak'u'pihnez. Have a look heah:"

Sonak nodded.

"This would be consistent with mythological data on these so-called Olympian divinities as well as what we know of such beings from the Apollo incident. Taking control of this power source and stimuating this conflict between them as we initially planned seems to be the logical approach."

{VIDEO 2 PLAYS}

* It shows satyrs, minotaurs, hellhounds, and Greek gods among other "mythical" things.
* The ship logs have full records of the station logs while they were linked. They've been forwarded to the Hera's Intel databases and should be available.

Sam slapped the control, and the video froze, again. "Tha's whut ah' meahn! An' owah guhl, Miss Herah, heah," he patted the conference table fondly, "got huh big brayun chock full uh th'daytuh we need tah find 'em, an' mebbe neut'ruhl'eyes 'em!"

"Now this, guy, hyeah, he had suhm ee'QUIP'ment! An' it seems lahk there ain't nuh maygick in'volv'd in 'em!" He unpaused the feed, and it seemed to be in the interior of the USS Hera, again.

{VIDEO 3a PLAYS}

* The video discusses Mal's frictionless blades. They have proven to be very effective against Minotaur. The assumption is that they would have the same or similar level of effectiveness on any cyclops or other dedicated combatant you might encounter. However, killing non-combatants there are off-limits for any lethal force.

"Minnowtawr cuttahz!" Clemens crowed, in the slight pause.

{VIDEO 3b PLAYS}

* It is revealed that the frictionless blades were meant to slice through Minotaur. They'll go through your flesh and bone or the flesh and bone of your allies like a hot knife through butter, so you'll have to learn to be very careful when you use one.

"Ah reckon y'all kin figger out wheah this Mahl puh'sun laid hands on a set of'em. If nuthin' ailse, we got hard scans'uv th'makeup uv 'em. Diss. CUSS!" the Moustached Maniacal Maven of Marvelous Machines added brightly.

"I for one like the idea of disrupting the flow of energy," Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris spoke up first, then consulted her PaDD as she spoke. "Seeing as our ops chief holds a masters degree in quantum cryptography from the Daystrom Institute of Technology, I feel Lieutenant Dauntless to be up for the task of disrupting that energy flow. In case taking out her generators doesn't cripple her power, that would be a nice less invasive course. Might save lives."

Alex spoke up next. "I agree with the first officer, I would also disrupt the supply chain from where her weapons come from to Hera. Because once we make our move, we're gonna need all the luck we can get!" Offered Sexton

Duran-Yeager watched the display before her as she brushed a lock of sandy golden hair out of her eyes, her hair was not cooperating today and she was getting irritated with it, as she turned her attention back to the display, much of what she was seeing, she had a hard time processing but she continued to watch.

Chief Counselor Jurot cleared her throat. "So we are working under the assumption that armed conflict is inevitable?"

Sonak almost sighed.

"It is the course of action Starfleet has limited itself to at this point. Most regrettable... but our orders are nevertheless quite clear, as our captain gave them to us."

The chief medical officer waited for a lull in conversation and spoke with a measured voice, “We understand worship to be a part of what provides them with energy. We do not yet understand how the worship is translated into energy, although this is something I am working on. We also understand that the organ they use to manifest things uses this worship energy. This is a volatile process. If we can introduce instability into the process, it may be possible to disarm Hera with minimal collateral damage, although I cannot know what the damage to Hera herself would be.”

"May I propose the hypothesis that this worship transference of energy might be psionic in nature?" suggested the Vulcan. " There are precedents of such conversion been done even through artificial means like the ancient telekinetic weaponry of my own ancestors on Vulcan."

“Might there be a way to disrupt this flow of energy?” the first officer asked. “If it is a known commodity, is there an interference we could broadcast to stop Hera from receiving it? And for the record, an armed conflict is not considered inevitable at this point. We are reviewing options and we have a plan, but that plan, as all tend to be, is flexible. Starfleet doesn’t go in guns blazing unless we have to, Counselor. That much hasn’t changed in all these years. We’ll attempt the least invasive and harmful solutions, and violence is a last recourse.”

"That would be wise," Sonak acknowledged.

Avender fixed her black irised eyes on Lt. Sonak. "I have volunteered to speak to her. I can also attempt to communicate with her telepathically if I am close enough to her. If violence occurs, of course we should be ready, but I believe it should be the last resort." She then looked around the room. "Perhaps the worshipers' energy could be blocked psionically."

Alex looked visibly disturbed at this revelation. Here was a woman he respected and she was putting herself in harm's way.

“Counselor, that’s a distinct possibility as well,” the mod minidress-clad throwback officer acknowledged. “We’re approaching this in three teams… would you like to be assigned to go planetside with the team headed to disrupt her power generators? The Captain feels rather strongly that we need to disrupt Hera’s power flow before approaching her for negotiation, and I am inclined to agree. But I suspect you’ll need to be on the ground to make that determination. Your thoughts?”

"Yes, while I can sense some things from a distance, I'd need to be on the surface for anything more complex," the Betazoid replied.

A small humorless smile graced the face of the first officer, and the ship’s counselor sensed mild irritation. “Then we’ll bring you down once the area is secured, to see if disruption will be possible as well as entering into negotiations."

"Surely there's got to be another way. I mean, the counselor has combat training, but she is not a combatant." Said Sexton

Avender noted the First officer's mood, then turned toward Sexton. "Any fighting I do would be on a mental level. That said, while I hate fighting, I CAN defend myself. In any case, I wouldn't be alone. That's the whole point of a team."

Duran-Yeager was sorely tempted to intervene here but she didn't wish to cause issues and problems as she listend to the discussion that was rapidly turning into an argument.

"Let's stay focused, people," the old-fashioned officer redirected the briefing, moving on to another important point Chief Clemens had brought up. "So our Hera will be working on disrupting Hera... other Hera's energy, the Counselor can give it a go telepathically, at least once we get close enough."

Sonak spoke.

"There are Vulcan disciplines that I can use to strengthen someone else's psionic abilities. I calculate there is not enough time to teach them but i can apply them directly; in essence, adding my mind to the mind of our counselor. But that would require for me to be in physical contact."

"Duly noted, Mr. Sonak. Meanwhile she has an awful lot of fantastic and powerful troops at her command. I for one would very much not like to go to war with these beings, but they may leave us no choice. With that said, Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi has been investigating potential weapons, as we believe we've discovered an alloy that emulates the mythical properties of some of the weaponry we know to be effective on these beings. Thex?"

" Yes. I've created several tungsten/rhenium-tipped blades and axes that should be able to damage most of her troops. Long range has been more tricky, but I've been able to make some arrows, ammo for the TR116, and some ammo for older firearms that should be able to damage them," the Andorian said, tapping her screen to bring up the holo images of what she had created.

"So a melee weapon and an assault weapon for each member of the landing party. Here's hoping we don't have to use them. Chief Clemens, any other points you'd life to discuss or stress?" Paris saw the glazed look in people's eyes- it was time to wrap this briefing up and get to work on what they'd discussed.

Up til now, Clemens had let them suss things out, but now, he spoke up, again.

"Friends'n naybuhs... ah'd like tuh make uh point.

...this 'goddess'..."

He pinched his nose between thumb and forefinger, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them, his normally-jolly demeanor was a mixture of sadness, and cold calculus.

"...she's nawt sum slaver we kin jus' stomp in an' beat on 'til she squeals an' rolls ovuh, y'all." He'd been looking at the combat specialists in the room, but then turned his attention to the Counselor. "Norh is she sumwun who's likeleh t'lissen t'ev'n th'mohst skilled peacemakuh. She's got no reahsun tuh. She thinks weah bugs, n'she won' think twice 'bout meltin' ya brayn with tech powah'd by bat'trees thuh size uv stahship enjuns, aftah she rips evvrah sekrit outta yer haid." He shook his head.

"We gotta fight DUHHTY. She can't git wun HINT uv warnin'! Lissen to yer Chief uv Intel, hyeah.

"Awright. Ah'm dun, now." He sat down, wearily.

Sonak nodded with an eyebrow arching slightly up.

"Colloquially stated... but essentially correct. Unless we have secured some way to... convince her to listen to reason, she will not. Logically, securing her power source or disabling her power-using organ... preferably both."

The friendly first officer stood, surveying the room. "All right people, we have our assignments and everyone knows their part in this plan. Any questions before we break?"

Asa shook their head no, glad to have kept mostly quiet.

Duran-Yeager held her silence as the weight of what she was learning was making itself present. 'Sta'thas, did you suffer?, did you feel pain as that monster turned you to stone?' the small Bajoran thought to herself, for that alone she decided that Hera needed to die.

As the silence hung in the air, the first officer called to the figure in the back of the room who had remained silent throughout the briefing, letting the senior staff take the lead. But if there was a concluding statement, it should come from the Hera's mistress and commander. "Captain Telvan, anything to add?"

Standing and looking around the room, Enalia saw all the faces around her. Some would likely perish on this mission - hopefully most would not. She did her best to engrave all of their faces and names into her memory, just in case. "You all have seen what we're up against and know what needs to be done. For the sake of those that came before us and for those that would come after if we fail, and for the galaxy as a whole, we must not fail. I've seen what this crew can do and I know we can. I'm trusting you all not only with my life and my ship and crew... The lives of every sentient rest on your shoulders. I know you will all persevere and find a way to win. Either she surrenders and we take her into custody, or she dies."

Watching the reactions around the room, the somber mood turned a bit darker, thus the spirit of the 23rd century knew to do her thing. “So- we’ve got plans. We have strategies. We have intel, with more coming. We’re Starfleet, people, and this is what we do. So let’s get out there and clean up this mess, rescue those who can be rescued, liberate those who can be liberated and teach this ‘goddess’ a thing or two about sullying the name ‘Hera’, shall we? Briefing adjourned- let’s go make a difference in the galaxy, people!”

Duran-Yeager nodded her head, in agreement but she didn't need to say anything, the executive officer said it all for her. As she had a friend to avenge.








VIDEO 1 CONTENT:

{"You don't have to kill my people, Captain," he said. "And I won't help you do that. You don't even have to drive them off of this plane. They have a right to exist. We just have to find a way to keep them from meddling too much. To defeat a god...you need to find their power sources and disable them. They have both stationary and mobile power sources, ships, bases, devices, etc, and they can wirelessly transmit power to themselves if they are close enough to their power sources. You might be able to interfere with that wireless transmission of energy. It won't be easy. The signal is very powerful. Otherwise, devise a way to interfere with their technology. Captain Telvan, some of my people may go too far, and I understand that you may have to deal harshly with them. Others, though, mean well and while you may have to deal with them, killing them won't be necessary. And remember, they often counter each other, cancel each other out. Find those connections and you won't need to kill them."}

VIDEO 2 CONTENT:

{"Baskervilles are fictional. A myth." The words were out before Clio quite realized what she was saying, and she backtracked a bit. "I suppose that doesn't mean anything anymore. We've got satyrs, minotaurs, and Greek gods. The Hounds of Baskerville may as well join the list." She paused, glancing at the list but not wanting to read it. "I hate to ask... but did anyone get a picture of these things? A tricorder reading? Anything?" Enalia nodded. "The ship logs have full records of the station logs while they were linked. They've been forwarded to the Hera's Intel databases and should be available."}

VIDEO 3a CONTENT:

{"Don't worry," Mal said when everyone else had left. "You're not in trouble. I'm going to give you one of my frictionless blades. They are very effective against Minotaur. I assume they would have the same or similar level of effectiveness on any cyclops you might encounter attempting to contact Hephaestus, however...you're going there to ask for his help. Killing or maiming his workers won't earn you any good will from him. I have a kopis and a gladius. I was thinking we could visit the holodeck and get you familiar with whichever one of those you feel more comfortable with."}

VIDEO 3b CONTENT:

{ "In the immediate, however, I'll let you try both blades and then you can borrow the one that works the best for you, then we'll really practice. Our frictionless blades were meant to slice through Minotaur. As you can imagine, they'll go through your flesh and bone or the flesh and bone of your allies like a hot knife through butter, so you'll have to learn to be very careful when you use one. Can you meet me on the Hera's holodeck in about an hour?"}

VIDEO 4 CONTENT:

{There was a gust of wind and Hermes appeared from...somewhere. "Okay," he said, handing handing out bracelets to everyone. They were of various widths and no two pairs of bracelets were the same, each having different designs or decorations on them. "Put those on, and observe," Hermes said. Everyone put them on obediently and Hermes picked up some kind of hand scanner. "You're first, Commander." He scanned Clio's weapons one by one, then aimed the scanner at her bracelets individually letting the beam linger on each one for a moment. "Now," Hermes said once he was done. "Hold out your hand and think of one of your weapons." Clio quirked an eyebrow at him, wondering what sort of technological trick this was but knowing better than to ask. Hermes and his kind were far more advanced than the Federation, and it wasn't likely they'd share the secret of the device. Curious as to whether she could figure it out, she focused her thoughts on the kopis she'd borrowed from Mal. The kopis in question appeared in Clio's hand. T'Pral was fascinated by this technology. "Where did you get these?" T'Pral asked. "Remember, we impressed the ancient peoples of Earth by performing what appeared to be miracles," Hermes said. "The ability to make things seem to appear from thin air with just a gesture of the hand went along way towards cementing us as deities in our subjects' minds. You're next, Lieutenant. Then the Baroness, and finally Mister Ral." Hermes got to work setting up the rest of the bracelets. "All finished," Hermes said when he was done. "Thank you," Daytona said. "I assume these just show up as fashion accessories if scanned?" "You are correct, Mister Ral!" Hermes said. "You'll also notice that no two pairs of them are the same. I thought it would look odd if you were all wearing the same bracelets. They should look like jewelry."}

VIDEO 5 CONTENT:

{“Thank you, that is sweet,” Akira said with a soft smile. “And I am working on a solution, it is just slow going; the Captain gave me the plans for a mobile emitter, but most of the circuitry is too small for the replicator, even the industrial replicator resolution is not high enough to accurately recreate the necessary components, so I am having to do it by hand, which is time consuming,” she explained. They were coming up on the caves and she could already smell the minerals from the water. “I am nervous about trying the emitter once it is finished; the one in use by the Voyager’s EMH was far more advanced and had a bigger capacity, I worry that the plans I am working off of won’t be able to support me because I consume far more resources than the Doctor.”}

VIDEO 6 CONTENT:

{“I have been meaning to talk to her about helping me build something; with the power fluctuation that happened over Selen VI, there were concerns about my efficacy during a power outage, so it was suggested that I build a computer for me to inhabit, linked with but separate from the main computer and working on an independent power source, and since the holo-emitters also work on their own internal power cells, I would be able to continue to function even in the event of a full system shut down,” she said. “I was also curious about finding that Scottish fellow… he seemed interesting.”}

VIDEO 7 CONTENT:

{"Just this," Mal said. "You are about to enter a very strange world. Demons, so-called gods, 'mythical' creatures and species. Well, I suppose you already guessed about the mythical species because, well, here I am before you. But I digress. You are going to see strange things, some wonderful, some horrible. On a starbase, trouble comes looking for you. On a starship, particularly this specific starship, we go looking for trouble...and find it nearly everywhere we look. Forget about thinking outside the box. With our missions, there are often no boxes to begin with.}

VIDEO 8 CONTENT:

{"Wonderful," Daytona said, also in a hushed voice continuing to walk and look around as though he was just a tourist. "The last thing we need is protracted battle with a Minotaur in the middle of downtown. Even if T'Pral could simply adjust her phaser to the highest setting and disintegrate the damn thing in one shot, we'd still have to explain to the locals why we killed it, which would give us away. The point is moot, anyway. According to Mal, the beasts are resistant to directed energy weapons. That's why the Pomtoli developed the frictionless blades in the first place. Besides that, if we don't kill it quickly, the local constabulary might get involved, and then there will be bullets flying around as well."}

VIDEO 9 CONTENT:

{The giant head frowned. "Such a weapon..." it said. "A weapon that could cause wounds that would not heal...that would be a marvel...and very dangerous. I could not allow such a weapon to remain in your hands after it has served its purpose. Do you, Enaes Clio, swear to me, the God of Fire and of metalworking that you will return this weapon to me once you have slain this demon? Mind, if you were to break your word, you would face the wrath of a god!" "Um, they know you're not actually a god, brother," Hermes said. "However, Commander, my family and their allies are very powerful. If you were to cross my brother Vulcan, there would be dire consequences for you and your crew, possibly even the Federation or even the Cervan people. We may not be actual gods, but we have technology you cannot imagine at our disposal. Think carefully before you answer his question. You will literally swearing by your life and the lives of all you hold dear." Clio looked between them, a bemused expression on her face. Bemused... but impressed nonetheless. "No need to threaten me, my crew, or my people. Keeping such a weapon on the Hera, among so many people unfamiliar with its technology... that's just asking for trouble." She didn't need to be a member of the pantheon or another similar advanced race to know that, especially seeing as how she already had weapons on board that had to be secured at all times. "Returning the weapon when we are finished with the task is, of course, part of our bargain. And I would expect you to secure it in such a way that no one other than yourself could retrieve it, Lord Vulcan. Or destroy it, if you see fit." "In that case, Eneas Clio," the giant head replied. "It so happens I have two such weapons in my possession. Behold."}
{A sheathed sword appeared on the rim of the fire pit. Next a lance with a five and a half foot pole and an eight inch blade designed for both stabbing and slashing. "The sword and spear of the Caberi," said the giant head. "If this demon is as dangerous as my brother describes him to be, perhaps it will take more than one of you to bring him down. You may take both with you. Remember, you have been warned. Failure to return these weapons to me will have dire consequences."}

The arrangements had been made and on the Hera’s schedule, Transporter Room 4 was officially offline until 10:00 hours today. Thus when the ship’s surgeon arrived at 09:00 sharp, they were unsurprised to find the anachronistically-uniformed first officer awaiting them, alongside the somber Vulcan scientist to whom she was wed. Observing them at a distance one would not immediately suspect their intimacy. There was no exchange between them, nor any indication that they would move time and space for one another, as both were individually absorbed in separate tasks.

Yet he eschewed his duty jacket, instead merely wearing the light blue tunic of the Science department, which made him stand out in a sea of black and charcoal uniforms. Just as she insisted on wearing the minidress uniform of a bygone sexist age. Seeing them together- her pacing as she worked, him standing stoically still as he consulted readings, one could more easily place the duo together. Both were exceptional. Both stood out from the rest of the crew. Both somehow hearkened back to a more colorful, innocent age of exploration. Which was accurate, as from such a period was from whence they had come to make their home on the Hera.

Both, on the third finger of their left hands, bore a simple polished band of blue-grey duranium. Without ever looking up, she orbited him as she paced, somehow maintaining a constant distance from him, like a pair of perfectly poised magnets. Their height was nearly identical, though in build they were a study in contrasts. He, long and lean, athletic yet economical in musculature- clearly a being built to survive a harsh and unforgiving desert planet. Whereas she was a lush collection of pulchritudinous curves, representative of the hills and valleys of her homeworld, which was home to an overabundance of life.

Looking up at precisely the same moment, in a synchronicity that some would find unnerving, they both noted the approach of the chief medical officer.

Asa approached the pair with a gulp. They had spent until the late hours of the evening carefully setting up test samples of containers containing varying amounts of stem cells harvested from Rita, and calibrating the sensors attached to each culture. Today was important to begin to understand the mystery around the first officers quantum signature, and the newly minted doctor was feeling the pressure.

"Good morning to you both. Lieutenant Commander, are you feeling well this morning? Any soreness from yesterday?" they inquired, tricorder in hand, scanning the tall blonde, while shifting a med bag with samples around awkwardly in the other hand.

"I'm fine, just anxious," Paris plead honestly. "Do you want to start out here or in there?"

"Let's start where you were when I called you yesterday, and then move in closer to the transporter room. I don't know if exposure to the area will leave any residue or excitation in your cells, and I'd like to rule that out as a possible variable. Assuming Lieutenant Sonak agrees?" They spoke calmly until the last sentence, which took on a bit of a squeaky tone. As Asa looked towards their Vulcan hero, the insecurity was plain on their face, and they feared letting down this brilliant man they greatly admired.

"This is your study, Doctor. You lead it with our full confidence behind you. But I hope you don't mind if I do some studies of my own? I find your project not only important and useful but fascinating. With your permission of course."

Sonak had brought his own tricorder, the standard model, to complement his own findings with those of the more specialized tricorder of the chief medical officer. He was himself quite curious as to this whole study and wanted to contribute if he could. Since he was unable to do it emotionally, he might as well try intellectually.

And after all and most importantly, it concerned his mate. That alone would have been enough for him.

"Chief Fingerman volunteered for this duty," the curvaceous commander offered, pointing through the wall to the transporter controls. "He says, and I quote, 'the transporters gets twitchy when you're around, and I don't like it, so if the Doc is fixing you, I'm in'. So he can activate the transporter on command, moving a matter block around for test purposes. Assuming you've got your neutral readings out here for a test base when the transporter isn't in operation."

"I would like to assist the chief in this transporter operations," Sonak offered. "I was there when Lieutenant Commander Paris was caught in her latest transporter accident. I know and studied the specific parameters involved and regarding what happened."

His tone was as deadpan as usual. But he had to use his discipline to ignore the remembrance of the accident that had sent Rita to this universe; at the time, he was the one handling the transporter.

"Yes! Sounds like a great plan!" Asa replied brightly, and with a touch of nervous manic energy behind the words.

Moving to stand next to Rita, the doctor took out four containers, similar in appearance to petri dishes of old, with a small scanning device attached to each. Out of their bag also came a small collapsible rolling tray to place the samples on to still allow free movement of the doctor’s arms.

They took quick reading on each of the samples, establishing they were at a baseline of zero excitation. A scan of Rita revealed the same thing, no quantum anomalies.

"OK, Lieutenant Commander, I am reading you at your usual baseline. Can you please confirm how you are feeling? Then please move two steps closer to the transporter bay and explain any change in physical sensation."

“Mildly anxious and confused. If the transporter isn’t in operation, I generally don’t feel anything different, and it’s inactive right now, so…” the leggy lieutenant commander took to strides toward the transporter room in the corridor and shrugged. “Same as it ever was.”

"Alright, the samples and your readings are all baseline too. Lieutenant Sonak, will you please take this sample," they asked, handing over a sample container labeled 1A, "into the transporter room and place directly inside the door. I will monitor this identical sample and Lieutenant Commander Paris here. If you would be so kind as to activate the transporter also please. Let's keep comms open also please. Ma'am, I need you to describe any change in sensation throughout this entire process please. Ready all?"

"Acknowledged," the Vulcan answered, taking the sample with him into the transporter room as indicated.Then he went to the console beside the transporter chief.

"Ready to implement your instructions, Doctor."

Taking a deep breath, Rita Paris balled up her fists and raised her chin. This was, far and away, her least favorite command in her Starfleet lexicon. But given that whatever her propensity for transporter accidents was, the syndrome certainly wasn’t getting better, and if she wanted answers and wanted it to stop, she had to face it. Facing fear is part of the job, little lady, the voice of her father, dead for decades and dimensions away echoed in her head.

While her lip quivered slightly before she spoke, when she did so her voice was calm and commanding. “Energize.”

Sonak nodded to Fingerman and, as the technician activated the transporter to dematerialize and rematerialize the test object, the Vulcan activated his tricorder while looking at what the console's monitor was indicating.

The portly mustachioed senior chief operating the transporter beamed the .5 kilo block of stored matter from transporter pad 2 to transporter pad 4. he took his time, enabling the less complicated transport buffer for cargo. Transporters on live beings required more complex buffer options for the assembly into energy for beaming. This was Chief Fingerman basically playing replicator with the transporter.

While in the corridor outside, Rita Paris' quantum field stretched away from her person ever so slightly, reaching for the beam. As the transport cycle completed, the extradimensional explorer's kirlian aura settled back where it belonged.

Sonak's tricorder chirped at him to call his attention from what he was already noticing on the transporter signal.His eyebrow went straight up.

"Fascinating. This is the exact same quantum fluctuation I recorded during her last accident; and here again the Heisenberg compensator was 0.05347th of a microsecond behind and ahead of the actual deatomization process at the same time."

He looked at Rita.

"When your last accident occured, I had hypothesized that this was a random fluctuation caused by the ion storm on the annular confinement beam frequency of our 23rd century duotronic technology. I even used this fluctuation and artificially reproduced it with a red giant's solar flare emissions to replicate the effect and help bring me here, in this time and quantum reality that is now ours. I was apprently in error. This result with this much more advanced gel pack technology would seem to suggest that this is a feature of your own specific quantum nature, not a technical malfunction; a discrepancy that, under a certain set of variables, would disrupt the normal process of transport, just as a random mutation of the genome would produce a new trait or remove an old one under the pressure of a certain set of natural selection variables."

He turned towards Dael.

"A hypothesis; this might be in fact what is at play here. Did you find anything relevant or peculiar on your part, Doctor? Something biological or biochemical perhaps that could account for this?"

"Yes, it's small, but her bio-electrical signals increase slightly, and about .05% of her type 3-aminopropyl-functionalized magnesium phyllosilicate nanoparticle are changing from their standard positive charge to neutral, although there is no increase in electrons in the body. Also her cortisol and adrenal levels are off the chart, but I can't know if that is entirely caused by the phenomenon with the transporter. Apologies ma'am," Asa replied, looking pained at the last sentence, but they knew the Vulcan scientist needed all information.

Sonak's eyebrow again went up.

"Fascinating. Doctor, can we hypothesize here the first recorded case of... for lack of a better term... transporter allergy?"

“It would certainly seem so. Lieutenant Commander, can you please describe the physical sensations experienced, if any?” the doctor replied in a carefully calm tone, filled with concern for their patient.

“Out here? I didn’t feel anything. If I get too close I feel something, but at this range, all the way out here with a shielded bulkhead between us, nothing to report,” the subject of the experiment explained. “And don’t worry about talking over my head or commentary on the experiment that you think might hurt my feelings, Doc. You’ll break it down in layman’s terms when you need to explain things to me- meanwhile, your experiment takes precedence, so please proceed.”

While her tone was calm, Paris did raise a valid point- the transporter rooms were all shielded to help prevent accidental influence by other exotic energies that sometimes occurred on starships. Even out here, her quantum field had reacted to transport despite the shielding.

Nodding in understanding, Asa moved directly inside the transporter room with their sample cart in tow. “Would you please join us here? Directly inside the door, but no further please. Shoot!” Asa trailed off, obviously talking to themselves for the last word and jotting outside the door, narrowly avoiding the buxom blonde, to place the sample from the last experiment in the hallway.

Upon re-entering the transporter room they explained “Gotta test for quantum entanglement too. I seriously doubt every cell in the body was ‘misfiring’ so to speak during the Lieutenant Commander’s prior transporter mishaps, but if her quantum entanglement is not corresponding to transporter protocol, which would cause the whole body to shift instead of the few errant cells. It is entirely possible this type of thing happens all the time to a few cells in a body, but the transporter normalizes the quantum signature and replicates the minuscule amount of missing cells. OK, anyone have thoughts, suggestions, or comments before we commence?” Asa concluded, somewhat breathlessly.

“Well, I’ve always maintained that not all of me makes it back, so if I understood that correctly then I’d go along with it,” Paris stepped over to the transporter control panel, where the burly transporter chief was working side by side with Sonak. “Your thoughts, Lieutenant?”

"Now that we have established data to study, the next step is to introduce variables to the same experiment in order to attempt to isolate and determine what is exactly at play. That being said, I have come prepared."

He showed Rita and Dael a small tube with a single red button on top which he affixed to his wife's left wrist.

"This is a portable emergency transporter device, first introduced during the Shinzon Incident a few years back. I have keyed it specifically for our current quantum signature with a subatomic autotimer. You can activate it yourself by pressing this activator, or it will activate itself exactly five point three seconds after it detects a shift in the quantum frequency of your body. It works only once before the power source is depleted but, this way, we can still proceed unimpeded with the experiments; and if you destabilize, you will be able to reintegrate this spacetime frame by yourself."

His grey eyes now fixed hers.

"And I will still be monitoring."

“Y-yeah, okay,” the transporter-phobic officer stammered, eyeing the device on her wrist dubiously. As perspiration dotted her brow and her heartrate doubled, the pit of fear yawned in her stomach. But Paris looked up, taking some strength from the solemn gaze of the science officer. “So what’s, ah, what’s the next experiment?”

“Wow, um, that’s great, Lieutenant.” Asa stammered, forcing themself to focus on the here-and-now and not all the what-if scenarios that rapidly flew through their mind.

“Up next, second verse, same as the first, so to speak. We transport a cube through the room with our illustrious XO standing on this side of the door,” Asa was speaking at about 90 miles a minute, but paused to offer a reassuring smile to Rita.

“I monitor her bio-signs while the Lieutenant monitors quantum signatures. I will also check the signals on our identical samples to see how identical they remain after closer exposure to a transporter. We will need to repeat this one more time at a different distance to gather enough data points to extrapolate any trends, so I suggest that upon conclusion of the test on the inside of the door we immediately conduct the same test with the Commander standing two steps off the pad. Get the hard stuff done all at once, right? But of course, if anyone needs to stop, of course we can, just speak up?” they concluded hopefully surveying the room.

Taking a few long strides to stand beside the door, the cadet who’d graduated 32nd in her Starfleet Academy class of 2255 stood beside the door. Fear would not stop her, and Rita Paris was nothing if not determination in a short skirt. Those blonde brows furrowed as she mopped away the sweat on her forehead, running her slick fingers through her tomboy-short blonde shock of hair and ordered, “Energize.”

Even before the transporter engaged, Rita Paris flinched, despite her conscious attempt not to do so. Which, given that her quantum signature immediately expanded and reached for the transporter beam, was not surprising.

“Beam’s not solidifying like it should,” muttered the transporter chief quietly, not loudly enough for the test subject to hear but plainly evident to the scientist and physician in attendance. “S’minor, but I’m having to adjust the compensators, just like every time she’s in here. And it slows down the transport time too- even with her over there we’re off by .576 seconds rematerializing.”

The tricorder was whirring as Asa frantically scanned Rita, needing to see the readings to trust the brave first commander was in fact, whole. They noticed the flinch, and a spike in readings that corresponded with it. Of course Rita’s cortisol and adrenal levels were sky-high, but they had been since entering the transporter room.

“Her extracellular matrix is becoming positively charged- electrons are just….gone. Chronoton particles are being drawn into her body also, and the naturally occurring anyon particles are disappearing, which is impacting the cell adhesion molecules in her connective tissues and nervous system. It’s not alarming….yet…but this is not anything I have encountered before. Commander, how are you feeling?”

The doctor's normally chipper voice was strained with concern as they stopped scanning once the transporter disengaged, seeking Rita’s state of mind in her eyes.

The subject on question was breathing a bit fast and as she mopped the perspiration from her brow, she nodded. “I’m okay, just… uneasy,” Paris reported, vastly understating her emotional state. Part of her was kicking herself for overreacting in front of people. But part of her, and it was the part she listened to that tended to save her life, was telling her to run, to get away from here. But that wouldn’t help, and she was damned if she wouldn’t see this through. You’re a Starfleet officer, and as First Officer you set an example. Calm down and do the job, Rita.

“Let’s just move on to the next experiment, shall we?” Hoping that her voice sounded more confident than she felt, it took nearly every bit of willpower she had to step up next to the transporter platform and about-face.

“One sec!” Asa replied, forcing cheerfulness in their voice, and running into the corridor to take readings. “OK, well that sample is still at baseline, no changes to report. The sample in this room underwent the same cellular changes, but of course not the changes to the connective tissues, as stem cells are, ya know, not connective tissues. I’m ready if you are everyone,” they concluded with a shrug and an awkward smile.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Rita Paris steeled herself before uttering the command, “Energize.”

Which was when things went a little haywire in Transporter Room 4.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Rita Paris steeled herself before uttering the command, “Energize.”

Which was when things went a little haywire in Transporter Room 4.

In the second before the transport began, the buxom blonde bombshell shuffled a half-step away from the transporter pad. Then as the transporter began to cycle, she looked over her shoulder, then began leaning away from the transporter as she tried to gain traction on the deck. Pulling away, she defied gravity to begin sliding backward toward the beam, which was most definitely taking much longer to cycle than normal, the high-pitched twang drawing itself out. Those high-traction chunky-heeled explorer's boots were doing her no good as she struggled to move forward while sliding back toward the transporter pad, where the transporter effect was twinkling into view as if in slow motion.

On the electromagnetic spectrum level, the personal quantum field of the extradimensional explorer flared, then reached out to touch, then wind itself around the transporter beam, intertwining with it even as Paris physically struggled to distance herself from the source of said beam. Tears filled the eyes of the pretty pilot as she fought the pull of the transporter, hands reaching desperately for the transporter console. “No no no no no!”

Meanwhile Doctor Dael was staring open-mouth at the tricorder in front of them. Over 50% of the cells in Rita’s body had gone into some kind of fluctuation. Her electrons were all over the place, it seemed like small parts of her were being sucked into the transporter beam, in spite of all known laws of, well... everything. The anyon particles in Rita’s body were all but gone, and about a hundred other things were occurring that would need to be evaluated at a later time.

“Turn it off! Now!” Dael cried to the transporter chief urgently.

“I’m trying to cut the power, but it’s not responding!” Chief Fingerman reported, even as the block of material on the transporter pad began to dematerialize as if in slow motion. That was when particles of Rita Paris’ boots began to pixilate, as they too moved to join the transporter beam, despite being nearly a meter away from the pad. In desperation, eyes wide with panic, she reached for the blue-clad scientist who was ever her anchor.

“It’s gonna get me! SONAK!” the panicked pilot cried, even as the back of her uniform began losing molecular cohesion, the gold molecules drifting toward the transporter beam.

Asa watched in horror as the first officer began to disappear and pointed at her wrist, yelling at her “Press the activator! Quickly!”

Every instinct in Rita Paris' disintegrating body told her this was a terrible idea. But she was desperate- if it got her this time, who knew where she might end up, or when, or if she would ever reintegrate. For her, activating a transporter was an act of desperation at the best of times. In this moment, as one transporter was sucking her in, Rita was terrified of what havoc another interfering transporter might wreak. But it was Sonak's plan, and he knew what he was doing. Gritting her teeth, she slapped her left wrist with her right hand.

That was when the screaming began in earnest.

The unwitting cry of panic that rose in volume and intensity quickly escalated to become a shriek of terror and pain as the two transporters both struggled for possession of Rita Paris' material form. Each was attempting to convert her to energy as both systems tore at her on an atomic level. Immaterial, but not fully deconstructed from matter, there was enough time during the slowed transport process for Rita to finish screaming and gulp in another breath. Which then enabled her to continue wailing her banshee's lament to the universe which, phasing as she was, transformed her cry into a reverberating, haunting sound. The starship siren's screams echoed nightmarishly around the room as her hands clawed the air in agony. Then as the twinkling lights intensified, the form of the human astronaut was consumed by the conversion process.

When it faded, Rita Paris had entirely vanished.

All this time, throughout the ordeal, Sonak was like a marble statue; observing, noting and calculating everything that was occurring. When Rita vanished, he was the only one seemingly unconcerned by it, save for a definite frown most would have missed on his brow, but which was there nevertheless.

Then he moved.

With swift, precise, methodical movements that would have done any surgeon proud, he plugged his active tricorder into a slot waiting for it in the transporter console as he spoke.

"Doctor; please keep your tricorder active, and aimed at the transporter pad. Mister Fingerman; cross-circuit to A."

"Aye sir," the doctor replied with a reedy voice.

"Sir... I have no signal!"

Sonak's fingers were already flying across the controls on his side of the console. A series of lights blinked and as the console beeped, the eyes of the elderly transporter chief widened.

"Sir, I... I have one! But... but from where?"

"Mister Fingerman; cross-circuit to B."

Starfleet discipline took over, under the steady voice and calm demeanor of the Vulcan lieutenant, and the experienced enlisted man complied. There was the familiar sound of an annular confinement beam coalescing on the pad, accompanied by a swirl of colored lights which fluctuated and condensed over the transporter platform.

Then Rita Paris, whole and solid, bodily collapsed onto transporter pad 1.

"My God, we got her back!" Chief Fingerman exclaimed loudly with a sigh and a wide smile of relief.

"There is no need to shout, Chief; no deity was involved. It was your cross-circuiting to B, the Doctor's precise biodata stream and my tricorder lock on her portable transporter signal that enabled us to retrieve her."

But despite his apparent deadpan answer, Sonak was greatly relieved. Not only had the quantum signal been kept throughout the event, but his bond to her as well. As if in a mind meld, he had felt everything that she had felt during the ordeal. It had left a bit of her raw and powerful emotions still in his mind but more importantly, a mass of data and information no tricorder or sensor could ever had gathered.

But now was not the time for scientific analysis; now was the time to take care of her. Collapsed on the pad, Rita heaved in great lungfuls of air like a drowning victim who had broken the surface, which escaped from her as broken sobs. Despite herself, her hands grasped at her form as if to reassure herself that all of it had returned from the transport. Her heartrate was nearly triple its normal, her blood pressure was through the roof and the adrenaline count in her bloodstream was dangerously high as she looked around wild-eyed, clearly struggling to rise, trying to get away from the transporter.

"Hey, hey, there, no need to get up quite yet, let me take a look at you," the doctor cooed softly while approaching the collapsed XO. They could not put words to their terror at nearly losing her, nor the relief at getting her back.

Why did I ever suggest this? We almost lost her, how could I have been so foolish! the young doctor berated themself.

"Can you please flood the transporter room with anyon particles?" they asked the transporter chief, taking his assent as a granted and continuing towards the blonde figure on the transporter pad. While scanning Rita with one hand, the El-Aurian placed a hand lightly on her arm, over where she was holding herself together with her hands, as a way to ground her with skin-on-skin contact. Asa had long thought the value of skin on skin was vastly underappreciated by Starfleet. A sentiment that was clearly embraced by Paris, who grabbed the hand of the doctor with surprisingly adrenaline-fueled strength and clung to it like a lifeline.

The whirring of the tricorder stopped as Asa completed their readings, "She is whole and well, beyond the obvious trauma anxiety. I have data to evaluate at a later time, but for now, ma'am, can I help you stand up? Permission to hug?"

Between Sonak and Doctor Dael, the recently reassembled transporter accident on two legs struggled to her feet, her legs wobbly and uneasy beneath her like those of a newborn calf. Her tear-streaked face broke into a thoroughly unconvincing smile as she tried to find her voice again. "S-s-so, maybe the old lady isn't so c-crazy after all, h-huh?"

The note of hysteria in her voice denied her flippant words, and her hands clutched the two individuals as if her life depended upon it. Her skin was slick with sweat, her uniform stained with it and they could feel her trembling all over. Questions tumbled out of her which would have been nonsensical were it not for the fact that the people in the room knew her history. "You just, we were doing a transporter experiment, right? What, what year is it? How long was I gone? This is the right universe, isn't it? This is the USS Hera, right?"

Through it all, she did not need to ask if this was her Sonak, because she could feel him. Though in her panicked and scattered state, she lacked the focus to hear him in her mind or reach for him, because existence was still quite startling to her.

Asa decided to risk getting yelled at for insubordination and disrespect of a superior officer and took a breath. They smoothed all worry off their face and kept a firm grasp on the XO's arm, and put their other hand on her shoulder, saying in soft, soothing tones, "Hey, hey, Rita, it's ok. You are Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, brave first officer on the USS Hera, and the year is 2395. We were doing a transporter experiment when the damn thing tried to eat you, but your husband Sonak gave you a device that worked with our efforts to get you home. It was never only in your head, and we are going to make sure this never happens again. I promise you are safe and healthy, and we are going to get you to your quarters to rest, ok? Rita, are you with me?"

They rubbed small circles on her back and surreptitiously checked her pulse with the hand on her arms as they were no longer scanning with the tricorder. Asa motioned towards the door with Sonak and the two of them began to move the beleagured blonde towards the door of the transporter room.

"Fingerman, please keep this room off-line until Lieutenant Sonak has a chance to do full diagnostics please. The EMH will be in shortly to gather the samples for further evaluation, and I will report to the Captain that I am recommending 24 hours rest for the Lieutenant Commander. Copy?" the doctor called over their shoulder.

"No." The still-shaking Starfleet officer resisted leaving the room, not with strength, but with simple slow movements meant to break holds, and her words. "Give, give me a minute to... I have to calm down. And a, a uniform. I'm... I'm First Officer. We're going to a war zone. They can't... the crew can't see me like this. It'll undermine confidence." Her breathing was still ragged, but Rita Paris placed her hand on the slender doctor's shoulder for stability as she took Sonak by the hand.

Without a word, they eased her down to the floor, where she pulled her still-trembling legs into the lotus position, boots and all. As Sonak settled opposite her, and extended his fingers to meet hers, she connected with the kolinahr master. Looking up she made eye contact with the transporter chief. When she spoke, her tone was gentle, not authoritative, but pleading. "Belay that order, Chief? Doc knows best, but I'll be with Sonak all night, and he'll put me back together again. We've got work to do and I can't be benched."

Looking to the concerned and compassionate physician, Rita Paris offered them a warm smile. "I'll be okay, Doc. It's worse than it looks, and Sonak has helped me through this before. Please, just get me a clean uniform and twenty minutes or so. You are welcome to accompany me to our quarters and take any and all the readings you may desire, and I shall comply willingly to your satisfaction. However, I require time to meditate, to reorder my mind and process this experience. Please, With your indulgence, Doctor Dael?"

Reaching up, the spirit of the 23rd century offered her hand to the El-Aurian explorer. In point of fact, the girl who'd been a ghost was a great believer in the compassionate nature of a simple touch. A philosophy that she shared with the young immortal. Thus, as she asked for a leap of faith from the frazzled physician, she offered in return trust- a connection in the form of a bond of touch. For amongst her people, it was the way one led another- to offer a hand. An offer of help, of leadership, of love, of compassion, of greeting, of friendship, to uplift... was solidified by the offering of a hand.

Asa smiled and clasped the proffered hand in return. "Yes ma'am, as you say. I will be right back. Please, take whatever time you need."

The doctor jogged back to the turbolift and went directly to Sick Bay. Going to the replicator they said, "Computer, I need a uniform for Lieutenant Commander Paris, please. One identical to the one she was wearing earlier today. Also another med bag that the uniform will fit in, a protein bar, whatever her favorite flavor is, a bottle of water, a bag of orange slices, and a hypo with a mild sedative. 10CC of Diphenylmethane should do it, optional inhaler delivery method too please."

Once the replicator provided the requested items, Asa grabbed some medical sanitary wipes and a towel and threw them in the bag as well, then jogged back to the turbolift. They legged it back into the transporter room and placed the bag on the inside of the door without looking in, not wanting to intrude on the married couple's privacy.

"Ma'am, your uniform is in the bag, along with a few other things. Please eat the food provided, at least a little bit, before trying to move too much. It should help with any shock. Please let me know if you need anything else, I will be waiting here for you. And again, take your time, you are my priority, and I have nowhere else I need to be."

"Acknowledged." came the eerie double reply of both Rita and Sonak, still sitting one in front of the other, fingetips touching, eyes closed.

With that, the young doctor sat on the floor and pulled out a PaDD, updating the system to keep the deck clear of personnel for another hour to preserve their patients privacy.

It took exactly fifty-three minutes before both their breathing synchronized into a very slow, regular rhythm, and they finally opened their eyes and changed their delicate finger contact into a full hand clap. Then their two extended fingers touched like crossed swords, but there was only peace and serenity between them.

"Welcome back, Rita my wife," the Vulcan said, with still the shade of an emotional inflection left into his otherwise deep low deadpan voice. "Now and forever, you will never be lost."

"My hero," Paris smiled, a lopsided affair that was a bit weary, but content. "You always come through for me."

Sonak turned to look at Dael.

"Thank you Doctor."

"Yes, thank you, Doc," Paris added. "Team effort out there today- you did some good work, and you helped save my life. I owe you one."

Asa sagged with visible relief that Paris appeared to be in a better state, and let a weary small smile appear. "Of course, Lieutenant, it is my honor to serve. Shall I wait outside so everyone can get.....situated?" they asked with a glance towards the bag containing the clean uniform. "Fingerman, would you be so kind as to join me in the hallway? I could use your help getting these specimen containers back to sick bay, if you don't mind?"

The portly mustachioed transporter chief had remained at his post, but now, understanding what was happening, scooped up the sample on the transporter console and the one inside the doorway to bring them to the doctor in the corridor outside. As the door closed, he turned his gaze on the young ship's surgeon.

"That... I didn't do that, right? I mean, I never saw a transporter do that, not in all my years in Starfleet. The damn thing..." Chief Fingerman realized that passersby could hear, so he leaned in and lowered his voice conspiratorially. "The damn thing tried to eat that poor girl. I never seen anything like it, Lieutenant. The sounds she made..." It was clear that the old enlisted man was shaken by what he'd seen, and considering it was his hand at the controls, Paris wasn't the only one who needed some support after this particular experience.

The doctor took the samples from the chief and turned back to look him in the eyes, their picture a face of encouragement and understanding. "No, Chief, no, of course you didn't do that. You did an excellent job, the Commander has had issues with transporters in the past, far worse than she had today. We were working to find the cause of these issues so we can stop anything bad from happening in the future. We couldn't have done that without you. You said it yourself... transporters get twitchy around her, but we're going to stop it... together."

As they spoke, Dael lightly rubbed the outside of Fingerman's arm, up and down, up and down, and keeping their voice soft and melodious, Asa waited for the slight nod of confirmation that their words were starting to get through, which they got, if a bit grudgingly. The crusty old man clearly felt some blame for what had happened, but the young doctor's words were getting through.

After a brief pause, they continued, "I'm so sorry if I snapped today, Chief. You did such an excellent job. No one thought Commander Paris would be taken by the beam when she wasn't on the pad. There was no way to know that would happen, and no one could have responded any better. You were calm and professional, and I know Sonak valued your contributions as well. I'm sure the XO will express her gratitude to you also after she's had a bit of rest. What can I do for you? Are there any repairs needed or tasks I can help you with? I don't know a lot about transporters, but I can do paperwork for us if you like?"

"After today," the old man smiled, "I think I'm going to have a scotch and a cigar, and spend some time sitting on my porch in Georgia listening to the rain fall. That was..." the old man trailed off, then shook his head. "Those screams are gonna give me nightmares. Damn good thing you and the science officer were here today. You two saved that girl, Doc- you're okay in my book." The old chief sighed, shaking his head. "Transporter room 4 is offline until you and Mr. Sonak clear it. Me, I'm officially off duty. That's more excitement in ten minutes than this old man cares to see in a lifetime."

At that moment the door to said transporter room opened, and the unconventionally uniformed executive officer stepped out into the corridor, the portrait of her usual calmly composed self. "Chief? Well done in there. Circumstances above and beyond, you stayed at your post and did all the right things. You helped save my life today, and damned if you aren't getting a medal for it."

While she was known by many to be a hugger, Paris extended her hand to the chief in a handshake- a professional expression that was acceptable in a crowded thoroughfare of the starship. Taking the offered hand, the chief shook it and accepted the praise. "I'll be on my way then, ma'am."

"Doctor, walk with us?" Paris asked as she stood there, as if an hour ago she'd had breakfast, not been torn asunder on a molecular level by dueling transporters seemingly hungry for her flesh.

It was always a bit of a shock to Asa how quickly command could recover from horrible circumstances, and Paris was no exception. She should be weeping on the floor in the Doc's book, but here she was, professional as always. Trying to shake off their own emotional crash that was surely coming, Asa pasted on their usual smile and said , "Of course, Commander."

"That was a very exciting experiment, wasn't it?" the extradimensional explorer asked as they walked at a casual pace. Sonak was beside her, hands clasped behind him but lagging slightly behind, in position should she require support. But Rita was making her way quite well, and to all outward appearances was fine.

"I'm sorry, Doc. I knew... I didn't know it was going to do that, and I don't know how it did do that. And if I know you, you feel as though you are to blame for wanting to try the experiment, aren't you?" There was no accusation nor acrimony in the first officer's question, only honesty, as always.

With a sigh, Asa shook their head yes. "I'm so sorry, I should have done more preliminary testing before ever exposing you to that blasted room. And then...well I guess I got a bit emotional, I apologize for any outburst," the doctor answered, sounding remorseful.

"We'll have none of that, Lieutenant," Paris replied lightly. "Sonak has been there for three of my four greatest hits in a transporter room, and he didn't anticipate what happened in there. In my book that means no one could have predicted that sort of behavior from the transporter. Which means that I will simply not accept you blaming yourself. We collected a lot of data today, and we made genuine strides toward figuring out why this happens to me. Which means that we are coming closer to a cure."

"Which was your idea." Rita paused to let that one sink in, before stopping at the turbolift. Pressing the down button, the lift arrived immediately. Leading the way in, the second in command turned to insure they were all aboard, then called, "Deck 8, Officer's Country please."

"As for emotional outbursts, Doctor, you care for people." The lift arrived at the destination and as they disembarked, the displaced damsel continued driving toward her point. "You ease their suffering and heal their injuries, cure their maladies. You care for people because you care."

Asa could see beads of sweat forming on the brow of the ravishing relic. Her posture was still erect and she was walking fine, but it certainly wasn't that martial pace she usually maintained. The tone of her skin was a bit paler than normal as well. But her voice was it's usual steady flow of old-school idealism.

"So when one of your patients starts screaming, you get a bit emotional because you are a good person, Myx Dael. Never be ashamed of that. You did great in there, and if you hadn't kept your head I might have lost mine." Reaching the door of their quarters, the door whooshed open, but Rita Paris turned to face the starship surgeon. "All of this was because you wanted to help. On so many levels, danger and all, you did just that. You're a good officer, a fine doctor, and a friend. Thanks for caring- never stop, because it is what makes you great."

Asa blushed at the praise, grateful for the kindness the first officer showed, even when under extreme duress herself. "Thank you, ma'am. We will find a way to cure this." They withdrew their tricorder and did a quick scan, as much for their own peace of mind as anything else.

"The good news is, apart from the exhaustion that is going to get insistent here soon no doubt, you are as healthy as ever. Your blood sugar is a bit off from all the excitement no doubt, so please make sure to eat before you crash, ok? A proper meal with carbs, protein, fiber, vitamins...all that good stuff. It may be trite, but chicken noodle soup is great for moments like this. The sodium and liquid content would be good too...." Asa trailed off, realizing they were talking from nervousness again. "Sorry, I'm keeping you from rest. Is there anything else I can do for either of you today ma'am, sir?"

They took a step back to allow the officers freedom to enter their quarters without intruding, making sure to keep the smile on their face, although the stress cry they felt coming would not be put off for too long.

Stepping inside her quarters fulfilled Rita Paris' old-school sense of decorum, and she turned to offer open arms to the young doctor. Tonight she would have Sonak, who would hold her and soothe her through the night, even as she reassured him that she was still here, still beside him. But the young immortal who had defied his family and struck out into the universe to find their own fate would be alone with their thoughts, their self-recriminations and second-guessing for the rest of the day and into the night.

The power of an offered hand was powerful, but it paled in comparison to the healing power of a hug. It reaffirmed life, comforted and connected people, end both came away the greater for it. The ghost of the 23rd century knew this power well, and firmly believed in its healing power applicable to most lifeforms across the galaxy. It was an exchange she needed as much as she suspected the singular surgeon did right now.

Asa all but collapsed into Rita's arms, a few errant tears leaking out in spite of their best efforts at self control. "Th-th-thank you ma'am. You're really huggable, you know?" they snuffled onto the first officers uniform, letting the warmth of the other envelop them, and sagging for just a few seconds before sensing it was time to extricate themself from the embrace. Which was not released- instead, Paris held the young person, stroked their hair a few times and made shooshing noises.

"It's all right. It was scary, but we're all okay now. There you go." At that, the cushiony cosmonaut released the frail physician, letting them step back to stand in the doorway.

Wiping at their eyes, Asa felt a bit of the tenseness leave their neck, and a contented look smoothed out the furrows they hadn't even realized were creasing their brow. "I'll check on you in the morning, if that is okay, ma'am? Just want to make sure you don't grow a third eye or something overnight," the doctor asked with an attempt at levity.

"I would very much appreciate it if you called on me this evening, Doctor. A few good scans, and I'll make some baked ziti. Say 19:00 hours," Paris turned the checkup instead into a social event, because the kid was all alone out here and they would worry about her if they didn't check. And a doctor looking after their patients should never be discouraged.

Silently, Sonak stepped past Asa and stepped beside Rita, taking her hand in his own as her half-lidded eyes opened a bit and she seemed to become more alert. It was then evident just how much Sonak had propped her up for the walk back to their quarters, and how truly exhausted the woman was after her ordeal.

"I would be happy to, Commander. And that sounds delicious! See you then...?" the doctor stood near the doorway, waiting for clearance to leave.

"Good day, doctor," Paris smiled as the door closed. Having served her duty to have appeared well to the crew, and especially those involved in the experiment, the exhausted executive limply collapsed against Sonak. The blue-clad pillar of strength whom had lent her the energy and presence of mind to accomplish the task caught her easily.

With a determined expression, Dael turned and took the turbolift to Sick Bay, anxious to begin research on the data found today. They fervently hoped to have more to report by the end of the day.

It had been almost forty-five minutes since Senior Chief Petty Officer Duran-Yeager Syal had arrived on board the USS Hera, she had also met the executive officer at the same time, the meeting had gone well, it had been educational for Duran-Yeager as her assignment to this vessel was last minute and she had no idea of who anyone was. Duran-Yeager had settled in rather quickly as she had changed out of her old uniform before pulled her spare from out of her pack that she had carried with her.

Duran-Yeager had plucked the rank patch off of her collar that indicated her rank, she found herself staring at it for a moment before she realized that she had been looking at it for a long longer then she had expected. 'Come on Syal, you got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it all.' she thought to herself as she finished removing the last of her clothing.

The small Bajoran female, now nude, quickly took care of things before she went into the bathroom, she smiled as she had expected smaller but she decided to proceed with taking a shower and freshen up before she went to meet the three people on her to do list.

About twenty minutes later, Duran-Yeager was finished as she finished zipping up her jacket, she then tugged on both her boots quickly before she departed her nearly assigned quarters. She made her way to her first destination which was sickbay.

The doors parted, with a soft sound that to her ears sounded like someone swinging a blade, the sound it made as it rent the air with its force and grace. The small Bajoran entered sickbay a moment later. A nurse regarded her with an odd look. "Hello Chief, what can we do for you?"

"I'm just here for my coming aboard physical, is now alright or do you want me to come back in the morning?" Duran-Yeager responded with a smile.

"Let me check with the doctor, please take a seat and I'll be right back." and with that, the nurse withdrew in silence as Duran-Yeager took a seat on a biobed as she settled in to wait.

An incredibly young looking, waif like figure entered the room with a bright smile. “Hello! I’m Doctor Asa Dael, a pleasure to meet you! Well, actually properly you this time, I mean.”

The doctor approached with the energy of a nervous puppy, all happy smiles to meet another crew member with an underlying current of nervous energy. They proffered their hand for a handshake in greeting in the way Starfleet Medical had taught as fleet-wide etiquette, placing a PaDD on a stand next to the bed and reaching for a medical tricorder with their other hand.

“First things first, how are you faring after your adventure in reaching us? Properly hydrated? Had some protein, carbs and sugar recently?” the doctor inquired as they scanned Duran-Yeager.

Duran-Yeager regarded the Doctor as she gently shook the other person's hand with her own in the human style. "The trip was... Well, calling it eventful is not a statement I'd use." she paused. "I had a doughnut and a glass of milk but that's all." she regarded the small being before her. "No Doctor, just my coming aboard physical," Duran-Yeager answered with a gentle smile. "After the insanity of the last couple of hours from my perspective." the small female looked up at the Doctor who was a fair bit taller than she, herself was. "Could I trouble you to find out how long I was out and if there are any lingering issues.

"Of course, I imagine your head must be reeling. I'm seeing you were kept drugged for about 2 days. I'm honestly not crazy about the way you were kept under either if these scans are anything to go by. You must have had a terrible headache upon waking. But then again, I doubt your comfort was a concern to your captors," Asa replied.

The CMO continued to scan and a brief frown crossed their face as a flash of anger was momentarily in their eyes. Before looking back up at the Bajoran, Asa turned to the nurse and dismissed them from sickbay. Sensing the tension in the Bajoran, Asa schooled their face to appear open and warm, even though the rage that someone would treat another the way Syal had been infuriated the doctor.

"So, let's talk for a minute, Senior Chief Petty Officer. What do you remember from before you were put under?"

Duran-Yeager paused. "I was flying the runabout, and everything was fine when suddenly two people beamed aboard, all the alarms started screaming at me and there was the sound of someone laughing." Duran-Yeager paused as she breathed in. "The larger of the two people was an Orion... he said I'd make an excellent sex slave, right before he shot me.. and a scream.." she paused quietly. "The scream was me right about the time I was getting shot.." the Bajoran sighed softly.

Asa shook Syal’s hand, and released it wondering if it would be better to sit close to her, but deciding to give her a moment to breathe. The doctor crossed the room to the replicator and retrieved a glass of Deka tea they had pre-programmed in anticipation of Duran-Yeagers arrival. Returning to the frazzled looking chief petty officer, Asa offered the steaming beverage.

“Thank you for sharing that,” Asa continued with a soft tone, “This was a heck of an ordeal, one you are at no fault for enduring. I know your head knows that, but sometimes an ugly voice in our brains can tell us otherwise. If that voice starts talking to you, I want you to tell it to hush. If it won’t shut up…please come see me. We’ll figure it out. Same thing goes for any flashbacks or if you suddenly aren’t sleeping. From a physical perspective, the stun weapon only left a bit of a burn that I can easily take care of. The sedative has caused a slight residual neurotransmitter imbalance, but again, nothing we can’t easily cure.”

As they spoke, the doctor began using their tricorder to adjust the others neurotransmitters. When they reached the burn location on the Chief Petty Officer’s back, they paused to look the other in the eye and ask, “Is it ok if I lift your shirt?”

Duran-Yeager nodded. "Sure." she knew they had had job to do and she was not about to make this harder for herself or for anyone else as she gently slipped off her uniform jacket and then she proceeded to peel her shirt off, she was left wearing a sports bra but Duran-Yeager didn't seem at ease with the lack of clothing. "It does sting a little, most of the time." she paused. "When I'm not trying to ignore the pain."

The doctor gently placed a hand on Duran-Yeagers back and made a “mm-hmmm” sound in a soothing tone. The whir of the tricorder clicked on and the chief petty officer felt a tingling sensation as the flesh began to repair.

“This probably feels a bit odd, but soon you will be right as rain,” Asa said softly. In about two minutes, the whirring stopped, and Asa withdrew their hand, moving back around to sit on a nearby stool in front of the Bajoran.

“That heals all the physical signs that this ever happened to you. I don’t see any other signs of abuse or mistreatment, just higher than normal stress hormones, but I think that’s understandable and expected. Do you have any other concerns? I don’t want you to have to ignore pain, I want you to not be in pain.”

Duran-Yeager smiled, despite her black mood. "Not at present." before she sipped the drink she had more or less completely ignored until now, she gently clasped the mug with both hands and let the warmth soothe her frazzled nerves. "This is good. I mean Deka tea is normally not my usual drink of choice." the small Bajoran female smiled as she took another sip from her drink.

“No? Sorry about that. I learned when living on Bajor that it was used to help keep people calm and thought it might help. It never calmed me down any, but that wasn’t for the elder’s lack of trying,” Asa replied with a grin. “I was always up a tree or running around like a wild thing. Drove all the adults’ nuts, which of course, was the point.”

With a twinkle in their eyes, the doctor picked up the PaDD to do a brief once-over review of the chief petty officer's records. “Everything seems to be in line here. Apart from the last few days, you are mint condition. Do you have any questions for me? Anything you would like to discuss?”

Duran-Yeager blinked. "Mint condition?" she asked, sounding confused. "I'm sorry Doctor." she then shrugged to show that her statement was not a major concern, she then sipped her drink in silence. "Sounds like you had a far better childhood then I did," she added with a soft sigh. "You know what I need Doc?" Duran-Yeager smiled. "A vacation from my entire life."

"Well, I can't quite provide that, but I do know a few holodeck programs for guided meditation, or some waterfall and swimming pool landscapes from across the galaxy known to be quite soothing," it was obvious the doctor was concerned about their patient. She had been through an ordeal, and it didn't sound like the first."Or if you like, I spend a few evenings a week painting if time allows, you are most welcome to come make a mess with me," Asa concluded with a small smile.

Duran-Yeager nodded. "Actually, yes I'd like that," she commented. "I've never really painted before so we shall we if I am any good at the craft." she added. "some of the holodeck programs might help too," she added. "Thank you, Doctor." Duran-Yeager smiled at the young person before her.

"Great! I've been hoping to find someone to make a mess with!" the enthusiastic El-Aurian replied, grinning widely.

"Well. you have found someone. I mean what's the worst that can happen right?" the Bajoran sounded oddly happy with this turn of events, it wasn't something she was expecting but she wasn't about to comment on it or question it, she would try it and see where it led her. "So, when and where?" she inquired.

Asa was practically buzzing with excitement about finding someone to have fun with. Making friends was always hard for the odd creature, and they had enthusiastically embraced the opportunity to meet new people on the Hera.

"Holodeck, tomorrow after duty? Say 1800 hours? I'll bring snacks!"

"Eighteen Hundred. I'll be there." Duran-Yeager grinned as she regarded the person before her. "This is gonna be great."

Ila Dedjoy was running her normal scans of the ship as she waited on yet another quantum encapsulation lab experiment to finish when an alarm went off and the intel pod AI started talking. “Warning. Quantum barrier breach imminent. Localization inside the ship. Triangulating. Warp core dilithium chamber and transporter room four.”

Looking up from her scans, Ila was surprised to say the least. Tapping her comm badge, she called the captain. “Captain Telvan, we have an imminent quantum barrier breach.” Tapping at a nearby console, she brought up the scan data from the AI. “Less than a minute. Transporter room four and the warp core. It looks like Commander Paris is trying to transport somewhere but something in the core isn’t...”

Enalia’s voice came over the comms. “They’re doing experiments to figure out why she can’t. Sonak and Dael are...” A burst of static came over the comm line for just a second, drowning out whatever Enalia had to say.

Abandoning the Quantum Encapsulation Lab, Ila set off at a dead run towards the S31 Transport lab. “Captain, There’s a warp shadow in the core that’s entangled with Rita’s signature. I should have picked it up sooner. Permission to use the special transport room?”

“Permission granted. Just make sure they can get Paris ba….” Another, more solid, burst of static filled the comm channel.

As Ila made it to the Transport lab and got it unlocked, Lucky popped out with his calm British voice. “It seems the quantum interference is too high to continue communications with the rest of the ship. Sensors are functioning at around eighty three percent. If you don’t resolve the issue, the ship will be either destroyed or pulled across the quantum barrier and… Well, the whole ship and crew might end up as a quantum ghost.”

“Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” Ila replied as she slid into he control console and started the lock-on procedure for that warp ghost in the ship’s warp core.

Checking the other sensors that Lucky had brought up, she saw that Rita was actually being consumed by a transporter beam very slowly. On top of that, she had one of those micro-transporters on her. “Are they trying to destroy the ship?” she grumbled as she tried to speed along the lock.

Suddenly, right as Rita was about to finish dematerializing, the lock finished. Slamming her hand down on the big red button, Ila held her breath for what seemed an eternity.

The chamber filled with particles.

An antique sample pod popped into existence, covered in film, inside the chamber.

Rita vanished on the sensors.

The ship was still there.

After a few seconds of silence, Lucky piped in cheerfully. “Quantum barrier disaster averted! Congratulations!”

Ila then let out the breath she’d been holding and watched the sensors as Sonak, Dael, and Fingerman worked to get Rita back safely. Once she knew the first officer was back in one piece, she cut the feed and tapped her comm badge. “Captain, this is Dedjoy. Crisis averted.” Grabbing her tricorder, she unsealed the transport booth and started scanning the old container.

“Excellent work, Ila. What exactly was it that was causing this?” Came the captain’s voice, once again crystal clear.

Ila scanned for a few seconds before replying. “I pulled some sort of twenty second century sample container out of the warp core. It was in the same state Rita was in when we found her. Captain, it has a planetary core sample in it… And it has Rita’s DNA embedded throughout it.”

"Captain?"

Lieutenant Delilah Dauntless called out to the taller Trill officer, as she hurried forward to closely follow her out of the Hera's Briefing Room. The diminutive 20 year-old did her best to fall into lockstep behind Enalia's long-legged gait. "May I have a moment to speak with you, Sir?"

Enalia stopped and rounded on her Ops Chief so fast, the shorter woman nearly ran into her. "First off, never call me sir. If you had come to your briefing with me when you came aboard, you would know that that is the easiest way to piss me off. If you want to do it now, then please feel free to follow me."

Without another word, she resumed her short walk back to her ready room and went inside, all but flopping into the chair behind the desk. "Have a seat and start talking."

Dauntless looked down at the seat, knitted her brow with a frown, then slipped smoothly into the seat. "If you have the time now," began the young girl, her tone of voice as composed as her prim posture, "I believe I would benefit from... some further explanation... regarding the unusual circumstances of this mission."

Enalia waved one hand dismissively. "What's so unusual about it? I've been running missions worse than this for years. At least I know Hera can be killed if it comes down to it." Then she leaned forward on her desk. "But I'll humor you. What do you need explained?"

Delilah paused for a moment, unsure what to make of her superior officer's cavalier response. Running missions like this for years? What the hell kind of starship WAS this, exactly?

"Everything," Dauntless said at last, trying to mask her discomfort at admitting the need for help. "Captain, I was given a very brief overview of the Hera's mission role and recent history along with my assignment orders from Starfleet Command. Yes, it was rather sparse on the details, but suppose I chalked that up to standard operational security protocol. Also, it wasn't lost on me that my assignment here was endorsed by Starfleet Intelligence..." The young lieutenant sat up straighter, resisting the urge to look cowed or uncomfortable. "Naturally, I assumed that my abilities in Quantum Systems and Computing would likely be utilized in areas like data analysis or cryptography..." The young woman sighed and looked down at her hands folded in her lap, briefly forgetting the cool, collected front she had been putting on since the briefing began. "This, though..."

Delilah's voice trailed off as she remembered the soundless carnage she had seen on the holovid that Captain Telvan had played for them all earlier.

Enalia relaxed and reached into her desk's cooler for a couple of cold bottled drinks. Popping the cap off of both of them, she slid one of the Artan Ales across her desk to Delilah. "You look like you could use a drink. My family makes these so enjoy it while you can."

Delilah eyed the tall, thin bottle before picking it up. The young lieutenant tentatively raised it to her full pouty lips and took a quick sip. The girl did not expect to enjoy the beverage at all, so refined was her delicate palette. Therefore she was pleasantly surprised that she found the Artan Ale's flavor to be crisp, cool & refreshing.

Taking a swig of her own, the captain paused a moment before beginning her explanation. "This ship is classified even among Intel Command and those that know of us often refer to us as a ship of death. If you haven't seen our hull or our death counts, both friendly and foe, I recommend you do so. In fact..."

Punching up a holographic display from her desk terminal, Enalia pulled up a model of the Hera in all her blue and purple pearlescent glory. Below were several stats. Highlighted were crew deaths and kill count. Almost three hundred for the crew deaths and the kill count was measured in billions. On top of that, the rest of the ship's specifications were higher than that of a recently refit Galaxy class.

"So as you can see, you've landed right in the thick of it. We've infiltrated Borg cubes, Romulan prisons, gone back in time to destroy a genetics research lab before it could change the course of history... We were even witness to part of the battle of Axanaar. We prevented a Devidian incursion in the timeline there. We've also done such things as relocated an Iconian Dyson sphere and killed a being hundreds of thousands of years old to prevent him from wiping out life as we know it." Clicking off her desk's holo-display, Enalia leaned back in her seat and took another swig of her ale. "And you'll read about none of it anywhere. If you even mention it to anyone off of this ship, Intel Command won't take kindly to it. After fighting literal unkillable demons and an Iconian, a goddess with an army doesn't seem all that big a threat."

"I see," Dauntless said at last, after a long pause, doing her level best to keep her expression calm as she weighed the Captain's words. 'Ship of Death? Seriously? Delilah could imagine the withering gaze her grandfather would be giving her if he could see her now; she could hear her older sister's derisive giggle at the ambitious young woman's unexpected ill-fortune. The young lieutenant's jaw clenched, and her grip around the cold bottle of Artan Ale tightened reflexively as she tried to appear to take Telvan's news in stride. "And my role, Captain?"

"You have one standing order. Don't die." Enalia took another drink before continuing. "Beyond that, you're here because you were recommended by Intel Command and I saw something in you that I thought would help the rest of us stay alive. I'd like for you to prove me right. Not meeting with me during your initial in-processing as a department head, is not a good way to start that. Calling me sir is also a misstep. Mess up a third time and I might loan you out to some pirates. Who knows what they'll want from you."

"As for your role on the ship, you're the chief of operations. That means anything dealing with comm, our computer cores, hacking, the stealth plating... If it's not direct maintenance, direct attack, piloting, or science mumbo-jumbo, you're responsible for it."

Dauntless nodded, then sat back in her seat and steepled her fingers, contemplatively. "Understood. I did notice some 'irregularities' regarding the Hera's schematics when you pulled up the Master Systems Display just now. Some of those specs looked a lot different from what I studied for a Nebula-class vessel. Would I be correct in assuming some of those changes involve our information systems as well?"

"Right." Enalia pulled up the schematics and highlighted the data centers. "Unlike a normal Nebula class that has a main computer core and a maintenance interface next to it in the saucer and a backup core in the engineering hull, we have two full cores in the saucer, a backup in the engineering hull, a secure core in both Intel and the pod, and a full AI suite dedicated to the labs on E deck in the pod. Coupled with that, we have a distributed backup data net across the personal terminals that we can use if those should fail. As for our comm and sensor range, we can outclass any other ship in the fleet. On top of that, once we bring our stealth plating online, the Tal Shiar would be envious of it. If they knew it existed, that is."

Delilah pursed her lips and crossed her arms as she scanned the holographic display and took note of the Hera's disparate operational systems. Computer systems and telecommunications were well within the 20 year-old's wheelhouse. At a glance, she was confident she would have very few problems there. This stealth plating system, however...

"Tell me more about this stealth plating system," Delilah asked, as she slowly rose up out of her seat and peered intently at the pulsing blue outline around the projected mock-up of the ship. "I don't think I've ever seen anything like this."

"That's because you haven't," Enalia replied as she pulled up the operations guide on it. "There's a feedback system in place so we know if it's working and once it's engaged no known sensor systems can see it. The only way to see the Hera is to physically look out a window. Even if there's damage to it, it can mask up to a ten meter gash with ease. There are augment generators around the warp coils and impulse exhausts so even those become invisible. We still leave an exhaust trail, but at least at the ship, sensors can't see us. As for our exhaust trails..." Pulling up another readout, Enalia grinned even wider. "We have probes that can perfectly imitate our warp and impulse trails and can tighten ours so as to leave nothing for a while."

"I'd like to study this a little more closely as time permits," Delilah said softly, almost to herself as she scanned the information presented to her. "Am I cleared to this information?" she asked, an inquisitive eyebrow arching above her ice-blue gaze.

Clicking her desk terminal and holo-displays off, Enalia leaned back in her chair and sipped at her drink a bit more, finishing it off. "That depends on if you're going to sell it to someone. I know who you work for but I also know what kind of skills you offer. I know I can trust your skills. What I need to know is if I can trust your loyalty to this ship and the Federation. If I can, there are wonders on this ship that put that to shame. If not..." Rather than finishing that thought, she let it hang in the air.

"I'm not really sure that I believe in 'loyalty', Captain," answered Dauntless with a sniff, visibly annoyed at having the holographic images she had been studying summarily shut off. "In my experience, things like loyalty, love and honor really only boil down to self-interest." The slender computer specialist stood up straight and adjusted the fit of her uniform jacket with a slight tug. "But, whatever. As long as I wear this uniform, you'll have my compliance and my competence. That'll have to be enough."

"Then how about this for self interest. If you don't find some brand loyalty to this ship and the Federation, Intel Command and I are going to be sending you home in a torpedo casing. We work together as a team and those that don't end up dead. Is that clear?" Enalia wasn't messing around at this point - she'd seen too many people die under her command as it was. "If it isn't, I can modify a class eight probe and send you home in that right now."

Delilah did her best to suppress a smirk at her commanding officer's threats. It pleased the 20 year-old and made her feel secure - in control - to know that she had not been the first to lose her cool. That, in of itself, was its own victory. The real advantage, however, lay in what Enalia's reaction revealed about herself. The older Trill woman's distrust of Delilah seemed to be a sore spot, a potential pressure point that could perhaps be leveraged to the young woman's benefit. Something to consider later. Dauntless clasped her hands behind her back, and gave her captain a subtle nod.

"Very clear, Sir," said the young lieutenant at last. "Thank you for taking the time to bring me up to speed. I promise to put what you've told me to good use."

Enalia stood, a calm and collected raging storm that obviously wanted to kill the woman before her. "And yet you've proven that you can't. The first thing I told you was to never call me sir again yet you just did it. You're even more dense than I first thought, aren't you? Did you hear anything I've actually said?"

Delilah snapped her fingers, as if realizing her mistake, and nodded. "That's right. You did mention that displeased you, didn't you?" The young woman seemed to consider that for a brief moment, then appeared to concern herself with how her perfectly-pressed uniform jacket hung upon her diminutive frame. "If that's all, Captain?" intoned the impertinent young lieutenant.

"It's not all. Since you need an attitude adjustment, report to Commander Paris tomorrow morning for extra duties. Dismissed." Enalia sat back down and promptly proceeded to ignore the young Lieutenant.

Delilah stifled a grumble at Captain Telvan's parting shot. Oh, for salvation's sake,, the diminutive girl thought to herself. Her initial interaction with the Hera's executive officer had been awkward enough. Now she was expected to repeat the experience? Ugh, wonderful. In response, Delilah only gave the faintest, most curt nod she could manage to the Trill captain. Then, with hands clasped behind her, Lieutenant Dauntless turned on her heel and walked out of the Captain's Ready Room.

The door to Ten Forward slid open with the telltale woosh one would expect on a Starfleet vessel and Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox hesitantly walked in. She was a short, thickly proportioned young woman, just past thirty. Her wide hips and ample middle weren't common in Starfleet but she was good at her job and passed all her physicals. Her hair was a thick, curly auburn mess tucked into a bun in the back that had given up being neat a little while ago. She had just come off of a 12 hour shift and was off duty, so she undid the bun and let her hair fall naturally just past her shoulders.

The room was about half filled with various crew memebers talking and drinking. It wasn't particularly busy, but it felt overly so to the awkward and anxious new ships pilot. Dox scanned the room from the side off the door looking for as isolated a seat as she could find. In her hands crossed infront of her was the PaDD with the mission specs she received from Rita Paris just a few short minutes ago that she wanted to read over.

It was the gregarious First Officer that recommended that the tightly wound lieutenant could use some relaxation after an appropriately tense, but friendly meeting to discuss the mission ahead. Dox had only been on board the HERA for a couple of days, but had used the replicator in her quarters to eat and had actively avoided the mess hall and ten forward. So far, she had only met a handful of officers that were now her crewmates: the statuesque First Officer, who confounded Dox in her anacronistic uniform and in-your-face command style. Not "in-your-face" bad, per say, Dox thought. But it was clear that her new Commander didn't have patience for Dox's tendency for emotionally shutting down. In their three meetings, Paris blasted through her defenses in a good way and Dox was beginning to feel more relaxed around the Commander, in spite of her own efforts to keep a stick up her own ass.

The meeting with the Captain and Chief Medical Officer went fairly well. Nothing overly eventfully and Dox didn't stick her feet in her mouth overtly bad, as she could remember. She misgendered the doctor, which was embarrassing but Dox tried not to think too much into it and let it bother her too much. Dox figured that kind of ignorance was probably intensly annoying for the doctor, who seemed very friendly and open, and she didn't want to make the situation any more awkward by making it all about her.

The meeting with the ships COUNCILOR, that Dox wasn't happy with the outcome of the most. She went in hyper defensive and on-guard because the Councilor is a Betazoid and Dox couldn't get past her reluctance around telepaths. Especially telepaths who's job was to get into your head. The councilor, Ensign Avender Jurot, assuered Dox that she wouldn't read her mind, but reminded the pilot that she absolutely could a few times in the short session... a point that did not fill her with comfort. Dox agreed to give her a chance and the rest of the meeting was perfunctory. But Dox was still worried about how it went and her own behavior and was not looking forward to having to see the ships Councilor again.

"May I help you?" One of the servers asked, snapping Melanie Dox out of her exceedingly long moment of introspection with a mild shock. "Huh?" The momentarily confused junior officer replied. "Uh... Yes. Please. Apple Cider and... Do you have a beef stew?"

The server chuckled lightly, "Of course, Lieutenant. Just have a seat and we'll bring it right out."

Of course they have beef stew, idiot. the slightly embarrassed officer thought. They have replicators. Dox walked over to a small table with two chairs near the starboard window and took a seat facing the window. She adored being in space, having grown up on freighters most of her life.

Smuggling freighters She thought, letting her mind drift back to her... difficult childhood for just a moment before pulling up the PaDD to distract herself with the details of the upcoming mission. The ship was apparently warping to Metroset 347 to encounter what could only be described as a literal Goddess. The U.S.S. Hera was being sent to face off with the Goddess Hera, straight out of ancient Earth mythology and she had some sort of charriots that would be attacking the ship. Dox studied all the available data on the PaDD about the presumed capabilities of these charriots so she would have some idea how to out fly them. She was once again lost deep in thought when the server interrupted her again. "Your cider and stew, Lieutenant. Enjoy, and please let me know if I can get you anything else."

"Thanks." Dox said, slightly distractedly. She began slowly pecking at her food while continuing to read.

After a whirlwind of activity since their arrival on the Hera, Doctor Dael felt the need to decompress, and was hoping to get to know their crew-mates better. They entered ten forward and went to ask for something to snack on.

“Something snacky- say fondue with fruit and crackers to dip? And a small amount of Romulan sausage, with fizzy fruit drink please,” the young doctor ordered, completely unaware how their choice of beverage showed their age.

Walking over to Dox, Asa asked permission to join the other, sitting with both feet tucked under their legs in an adjoining chair and smiling brightly.

“Heya! How ya’ doing?” they chirped in greeting.

Once again, startled to attention, Dox shot up from her PaDD, still chewing a bit of her stew. "Um..." She swallowed awkwardly then chuckled with mild embarrassment at the moment. "Uh... Hi. I mean, good evening Doctor. I'm... I'm fine." Dox paused for a brief moment, her mind scrambling to remember the basic rules of conversation. "How are you?"

“Glad as heck to be off my feet! Wanna get cheesy with me?” they replied with a wink as the server brought over a generous serving of fondue (complete with fruits from at least three different worlds), Romulan sausage and a pinkish-purplish fizzy fruit punch.

The doctor was bubbling with their typical fidgety energy and did not look ashamed of the horrible pun in the slightest as they devoured a sausage and motioned for Dox to help herself to whatever she fancied. With a gulp of the punch, it occurred to Asa they probably had a purple mustache at this point, and they wiped their mouth and said, “Sorry, I do love replicators though, don’t you? I would definitely burn something if I tried to cook. And burning punch, while unlikely, does sound like a feat I could manage.”

Taken aback by the doctors extreme display of energy, Dox's eyes buldged slightly in her head as she gestured to her barely touched bowl of stew. "Uh, no thank you. I'm good. I'm..." But as she spoke, she tilted her head quizically, looking at the plate of food as it was not a dish she had ever seen before. "Um. What IS that? Is that melted cheese?"

With a laugh, Asa replied "Yep! It's fondue- a traditional Earth dish, although they tend to reserve it for more special occasions, can't figure out why. One is a sweet cheese, the other is savory, and you dip fruits and crackers into them. Please, feel free to try some, it really is delicious. I never did understand why humans only eat foods on special occasions....after all, if it tastes good, why wait?"

Having grown up on a smuggling freighter that had the cheapest of surplus replicators, Dox had very little experience with foods like fondue and it was something that rarely came up during her time at the academy or on starbases. She has always kept to herself and so she was taken aback by the doctors offer, but the fondue smelled delicious and she was actively trying to to break her old cycles of being anti-social.

"Okay, thanks Doctor." Dox awkwardly picked up a cracker, dipped it in the cheese and took a bite. "Wow. Yeah, that is... That's really good, yeah."

Asa laughed freely in joy at the others enjoyment. They always felt life should be enjoyed, and although they had their share of personal tragedy, they decided upon entering Starfleet to focus on finding ways to enjoy where they are every day.

"Ha, I do love some of the Earth foods. Growing up, I was pretty much a whatever-I-can-scrounge person. When I entered Starfleet, I used every opportunity I had to steal over to wherever the locals in San Francisco hung out, and I picked up some interesting recipes along the way. Wait till you try a shrimp baja taco or ricotta lemon pancake. So, do you cook? I try, but, well, got a lot of learning to do there."

"Cook? Uh, no. No, not really." Dox replied shortly and a little nervously. "I'm fine with a replicator." She added, realizing that she probably needed to engage more in the conversation or risk coming across as rude. And she was trying to make a conscious effort to be more social.

"So... where are you from then?" Dox asked with a slight nervous twinge in her voice, hoping it wasn't a loaded or inappropriate question as such things were generally a problem for her. She never quite knew how personal was too personal, but figured that the Doctor mentioned Earth as a place she WASN'T from so it seemed safe enough to ask.

"Grew up on Bajor. After leaving the Nexus, my family settled there with a few others," the doctor replied slightly shrugging one shoulder, "Family decided to be a bit weird, but Bajor was beautiful. There were some Bajoran doctors that really helped me learn about medicine when I was younger, including how to look for natural remedies and think creatively. How about you?" they replied, not letting the chipper slip from their voice.

While most of her personal history was well recorded in her personnel files, especially her medical ones, the fact that her family was smugglers wasn't common knowledge outside of higher ups and her commanding officers. Some of the details of that past were in sealed files that were for "eyes only" and Melanie was always reluctant to give up too much information. But as the chief medical officer, she knew that they would have access to the information. It was also an aspect of socialization that Dox was horrible at: realizing that asking a question often meant that same question was to be bounced back at her.

"I... I grew up mostly on freighters. Cargo ships and stuff." Which was completely true, though omitted the more uncomfortable details. "I never even lived on a planet until I moved in with my Grandparents on Earth when I was a teenager. Ohio." She shifted the focus to a later period of her childhood hoping to avoid having to talk about her parents or the fact that they were smugglers.

"Hmmmm....Ohio..." Asa replied, thinking back to their memory of Earth and trying to remember where Ohio is. "That's near one of the Remarkable Lakes right? Always meant to visit those...."

"Yeah. Lake Erie." Dox knew they were called the great lakes but though better of correcting them. "But they're hardly all that remarkable, really. I wasn't a big fan of the place and signed up for Starfleet as soon as I was able."

"I think that's common for a lot of us from smaller outposts, cities, tribes, whatever ya wanna call 'em. It's just such a big universe...gotta see more of it than one lake, or one forest as the case may be for me, right?" Asa replied while voraciously eating a strawberry dipped in a cream cheese fondue. They stopped to chew briefly and realized the napkin supply was getting low.

"Huh, this stuff always makes more of a mess of my hands than I think it will. Oh well, worth it! So, you an adrenaline junkie? Roller coasters and such? I hear a lot of pilots are. Always meant to try one myself" Asa inquired energetically.

Scrunching her face, Dox pondered the doctor's question for a moment rather seriously, taking a drink of her cider before responding. "No. No, I wouldn't say so. It's not about adrenaline for me." Pausing again to consider going deeper, Dox decided to answer honestly in spite of her knee jerk desire to lock up again. "I think it's more... I guess it's a little bit about control." Her lips pursed slightly as the subject was slightly out of her admittedly limited comfort zone. "When I'm flying... I don't feel awkward like... Well... Everything else I do. It's where I feel like I fit." Dox took a bite of her stew, bracing for the doctors response.

"Oh, I completely know what you mean! I was one of the only kids in my settlement...religious nutbar cult and all...and I never really learned how to fit in with anyone my age. And El-Auriens are so boring . They are all so....old. They never change their minds about anything, and only try anything new if they are being actively chased by the Borg and being forced to. So when I got to the Academy, I kinda had to learn how to make friends. The security jocks all kinda sneered at me," the doctor babbled, pointing to their puny arms with a wry expression, "because I'm not built like a Klingon, and all I ever really wanted to do was help people, so medicine just...fit. Look at me! Saying 10 words to one of yours...see what I mean? No social skills. But put a med tricorder or tissue knitter in my hands, and I know what to do. Everything flows like a river....otherwise? Total disaster."

Asa barked a slight laugh, their eyes alight with mirth and joy at sharing an experience with another. "So, how do you let loose then? Everyone has something they like to do a bit wild. I paint, badly, but I still enjoy it. Wanna join some time? Oh, and hey, lets get dessert!"

"I'm terrible at letting loose." Dox replied with a slight chuckle, relaxing slightly at Asa's statement of having no social skills, undersitge feeling all too well. "Letting loose... Tightens me up." But she knew she was being less than forthcoming as she sat back in her seat and looked out the window. "I like to read. I like to... I don't know." She blushed slightly. "It's goofy, I guess."

"Lieutenant Dox, I had a roomate at Starfleet Medical that liked to sing loudly into her hairbrush after finals to unwind, and another that would weave rugs. He was really good at it too. I tried a couple of times and enjoyed the loom too, just saying, I doubt it's that goofy."

"i... I like to." Dox flushed again. "Well, growing up, the freighter had a TERRIBLE engine. It knocked all the time. And every time we remtered warp, it would knock a little different." She brushed her thick hair back slightly. "I used to... Well, I still do I guess. I'd use that as a kind of base rhythm and write little pieces of music. Nothing special, really. Just little pieces on a roll out keyboard I got from this Ferengi trader."

"That. Is. Awesome!" Asa replied enthusiastically emphatically. "Ya know, there is a lot of math involved in music, and it makes so much sense that your analytical mind would enjoy it. Plus music can reflect our moods, and by examining them, allow us to process them. At least that's what my psych professor said. Do you have a favorite type of music? Swing rhythm, military march, what have you?"

"I guess, anything with a strong beat." Dox was now a little bit more relaxed as the topic was shifting to a subject she found interesting that wasn't specifically about herself. Music was something that she greatly enjoyed and she buried herself in it growing up as a way to help her process her anger and harder emotions, and she found one specific style that she really loved for that. "But when I was a kid, my father, he exposed me to another of music from Earth. Old stuff that he thought came from an quote, unquote better time. But I really fell in love with... I don't know... Have you ever heard of metal?

"Oooooo yes! I found out about it from the one nice security person I trained with. She used it to amp me up to learn self defense. Didn't understand what half the lyrics were referring to, but the beat is definitely a good one. I particularly enjoyed Coheed and Cambria and Disturbed. What are your favorites?" Asa could sense that Melanie was starting to relax and enjoyed seeing their new friend start to unwind. They hoped to learn more about her and were smiling broadly at the turn in conversation.

"Mötley Crüe, Black Sabbath, Metallica." Dox rattled off the centuries-old band names as freshly as if they were new. "My favorite is AC/DC. It helps me relax to just let my... energy... ride with the music if that makes sense. When I'm... angry, it sometimes can lessen when the song ends like it spent itself in the moment of the energy of the song". She sat back sharply and took a drink of her cider feeling concerned that she's gotten too animated. She found herself afraid that her momentary enthusiasm would damage whatever the doctor already thought of her. "Pardon me, Doctor. I didn't mean to ramble."

"No pardon needed, you weren't rambling, silly," Asa replied, their voice filled with affection. "You were just telling me about stuff you like after I asked. And if you ramble...well, I don't know what that makes me. A babbling brook I guess. But hey, everyone likes a river! See? Doing it again," there was a wink to accompany their words this time.

"But now for a very important question...do you want a chocolate lava cake?" the impish figure asked Dox.

Looking down at the PaDD on her lap, Dox considered that she should probably finish her meal and try and return to studying the information. But the evening was still young and she suspected that this sort of encounter was exactly the kind of situation that First Officer Rita Paris was hoping would occur. It was a good thing, Dox thought that unless they all died on their upcoming mission to fight a literal goddess, it would be nice to have a friend or two for a change and smiled. "Yeah, sure."

"Heck yeah!" Asa hopped up, practically sprinting over to ask the servers for two chocolate lava cakes with ice cream and hot fudge. Returning to the table, Asa waited somewhat impatiently. Dessert was always the best part of a meal, and better with a friend.

When the cakes arrived, Asa procured a few more napkins and took a huge bite, getting a bit of ice cream on their nose. "Oh good grief, this is goooooooooood. How is yours?" they looked up at Melanie unaware of the ice cream on their noise, and for all the world looking like a happy child.

With her first bite still untaken as her speed was no match for the energetic doctor, Dox let out the first unrestrained laugh in her time onboard as she noticed the ice cream strategically centered on their nose. It was a light, open laugh filled with legitimate joy and it was one that the usually nervous pilot was reluctant to share. "Sorry, Doctor. You've got..." She smiled a tight, wide smile and pointed to her own nose with her spoon. "...battle damage."

Asa tilted their head quizzically and realized what their new friend meant and let out a laugh of their own. Grabbing for a napkin, they removed the errant ice cream and said, "What a waste! Oh well, se la vie and all that. Come on, you gotta try it! This stuff is amazing! I mean, is there anything better than chocolate???"

Taking a bite, Dox let out a sincere "Mmmm." and thought on the doctor's comments with perhaps a bit more thought then was probably necessary. She paused and looked out the window. "I can think of a few things. Finally being back out here for starters.:

Asa followed the gaze of the peerless pilot and smiled. "Yeah, it's an awesome view isn't it? I grew up dreaming about traveling the stars. This is my first real jaunt out, and I'm already in love. There's just so much to learn, more than any one person can, but I'm darn well going to try..."

"Yeah." Dox replied, still looking out the windows into the vastness of space as the stars streaked past at warp. She took a last sip and finished her cider and set the glass down next to the mostly empty plates from the unexpected and turned back towards the doctor with a more relaxed smile. "Thanks. It was nice talking." She then waved the PaDD lightly about. "But I think it's time to review the mission data before it gets too late and get to bed."

"Yeah, this was a blast! You are a cool lady, ya' know that?" Asa replied with a goofy grin. "I guess I better get back to being an adult myself, more the pity. Catch ya' next time!"

"Absolutely. Thanks." Dox smiled as she made her way up and headed out of Ten-Forward. "Good night."

As she made her way down the corridor to the turbolift, Melanie realized that so far, life on the Hera might actually be more then she ever thought. And that idea brought her attention to the PaDD in her hands as she entered the turbolift.

"Deck 6, please." She instructed, as she glanced at the notes thinking about the mission ahead. And that she now had just a little bit more motivation to fly at her best tomorrow.

When the door shut and the doctor was reassured and on their way, she'd planned to speak to Sonak about getting something to eat. But she found she lacked the strength to stand, or to speak. The responsible role model had lingered longer than she should have, and squandered the energy that he had lent her through their link; now she was exhausted. Feeling herself borne aloft, she could see the stars streaming by at warp through the viewports in the ceiling of their bedroom as Sonak carried her to the bed.

As her clothes were removed, she tried to help, or at least be compliant, and the next thing she knew, she was wrapped in blankets with a straw at her lips. Taking it in, a liquid meal was digested, then there was calm and peace, as she felt the warm touch of the skin of her spouse upon her back, and Rita Paris was comforted, if not fully conscious.

You are here... you have duties you should be tending to... I am... I am fine, I just need rest, she tried to protest weakly in his mind, even as his arm wrapped around her shoulder, his hand coming to rest cupping her elbow. This he knew comforted her, and she snuggled against him despite her projected thoughts. She had no idea she had been sleeping for hours already.

My duties of the day were of course completed before we began this experiment, he assured her through their meld. Regulations do not authorize personal activities until thatresponsibility is satisfied, and I made sure there were no violations of them; even if the good doctor could have made it an official health issue superceding any ship duty. But that would only have cleared you, not me.

He maintained not only mental but physical contact with her, as he knew full well how essential this was for her; even more so after such a recent displacement accident.

That being told, there was no question about me being absent while such an experiment about your condition was ongoing. You are now and forever part of me... apart and never parted.

I was terrified. It was different this time... it came for me. I felt that way before but it... it really came after me this time. Rita's heart rate began to increase, already high because of her proximity to Sonak, but recalling the trauma of the day, fear surged up inside her. It never did that before, and I couldn't get away, I didn't know what it was going to do to me. I've never been so scared in my life, and I've been pretty scared.

He touched her on the temple to strengthen the connection and at the same time do one of those gestures that helped settle her emotions.

This is but an emotional perception. There was no difference in the data than when you were taken off the Exeter. Which brings something else to mind; back then, it took the power of an ion storm to open the quantum breach; but there was no energy disturbance of the kind when we proceeded with this experiment. This means that there was another massive power source connected with the system. Since there was none detected outside the ship, the only logical conclusion is that it was inside the ship.

He paused to let it all sink in before he shared his conclusion.

There is only one source aboard powerful enough and directly connected to the transporter system to account for this, especially without anyone noticing; the ship's main power core. But no standard Starfleet issued power core would affect the quantum realm like this. Adding the fact that you ended up here following your jump from the Exeter, and that occurring when a similar ion storm was raging in both universes to affect both ships through time and quantum realms while none was at play a short time ago, there is only one logical conclusion; the most significant factor responsible for your quantum shifts is the Hera.

At that, Rita's eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright in bed. "The core sample! The one those scientists wouldn't stop going on about because it had properties... they wanted to study... Sonak, they never rematerialized the core sample! And it didn't show up on the Exeter's pad either, right? So that means it's still transphasic, trapped by the warp field here on the Hera! Do you think it would migrate to the warp core and interact somehow?"

"That could explain a great many things."

Just like that, the fear was gone, replaced by excitement at the prospect of discovery. For at heart the woman was an explorer, and putting together the pieces and seeing the wonders of the universe at play thrilled her. Though she was no scientist, Rita Paris' mind was flexible and inventive, and often intuited practical answers to complex problems. And once again, as Sonak had calmed her, so too had he led her to the intellectual precipice she required for one such leap of logic.

Apart, each were exceptional in their own way. But together they were a greater whole than the sum of their individual contributions.

"There's a reason why this happened. Likely a quantifiable reason, and once we retrieve that X-factor, then we can continue testing without the danger of..." Rita shuddered at the memory, and the fear of it blossomed within her once more, much to her chagrin. Brow furrowed, she tried to calm herself before surrendering and laying back down, settling her shoulder blades against his torso. Though her moods could be mercurial, when her mind needed soothing it was illogical to struggle on her own when he could help.

Sonak looked straight ahead as he spoke.

"If there is indeed a connection between this ship and your peculiar situation, than this X-factor may have a name: Captain Telvan."

A frown settled onto the pretty pilot's face. "You'll have to elaborate, m'love. I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"This her ship. It is most unlikely that she would not be aware of what happens aboard, especially with the main systems and even more if some peculiar phenomenon is ongoing; all the more considering the specific history of the Hera. And in the unlikely eventuality that she is indeed unaware; then somebody else is interfering with the workings of her ship and she should be informed. She would more readily understand what is happening."

"So... you're saying that the X-factor in the equation may not be the transphasic core sample? It might be Captain Telvan who caused a transporter beam to do the impossible and eat me today?" Rita rolled over so she could look Sonak in the eye. "Even if that were possible, to what end?"

"I am not saying she is responsible; although this is still a possibility. But she has to be at least aware of any discrepancy in her ship's main power core activity; that is, unless her chief engineer is successful in witholding the information from her, which I deem unlikely at this point. One case or the other, the captain is the most likely person to hold the key to this mystery aboard her ship... or to get it."

"If the core sample is transphasic... it fluctuated and appeared in the galley on deck nine, where a table was suddenly bisected by an ethereal column of some sort, that as soon as it had registered on the visual spectrum, vanished into thin air according to the report. I was actively trying to pull myself together and it was working, but the sample has no guiding sentience, so it has just remained in the subspace frequency of existence until I got close to a transporter, and somehow we're linked on a quantum level...?" Reaching down next to the bed, Rita fetched a PaDD, tapping at the tablet to log in and dig up files.

"This," she said quietly. "I missed this... when there's some awful or weird or impossible problem, I've got you. You keep me calm enough to think of an answer instead of awash in emotions I do not want." Sitting up, she looked over her shoulder with a grin before resettling her position, her back to his chest so they could both see the tablet. "I enjoy solving the mysteries of the universe with you. Without you it can often be a terrifying experience. But when you're here, I'm not afraid, because we're exploring. That means everybody comes home."

Onscreen, manicured fingers danced through a simple yet efficient file organizational structure to bring up the footage of the column as well as her progression from optical distortion to full on ghost.

Sonak observed the phenomenon then made quick mental calculations and flash estimates of one hypothesis after another before replying.

"Basic quantum theory states that every atom in the universe is linked to another somewhere. Since organic material is nothing more than a specific reorganization of the same atoms as in the rest of the universe, and in the same proportions, there is no reason to think such an atom is part of the exact same pattern as another. This object is apparently caught within a transphasic anomaly. It would suggest that, as a result of a highly improbable occurence, all the atoms of your body have their correspondence in all the atoms of this object. Therefore, its transitional state is resonnating on the quantum level to destabilize your own when exposed to a dematerialization process near a sufficiently powerful energy source... like the ion storm that struck the USS Exeter; or the overloaded warp core of the USS Constitution; or the enhanced power core of the USS Hera."

He stood up and went to his personal computer, a new light in his eyes.

"I will run simulations to evaluate this hypothesis. This may very well be the key to freeing you permanently from this hazard."

Smiling to herself, Rita was content. Though she’d been through a harrowing and terrifying experience… again… Sonak unconditionally supported her. Physically when it was needed, emotionally when it counted and scientifically when the mystery presented itself and a hypothesis formed. Tapping at her PaDD, she sent a message to Yeoman Dedjoy to request scans for a transphasic object in the warp core, referencing the core sample she’d beamed out with 127 years and a universe away.

Less than a minute later, a reply arrived from Dedjoy with an attached image of the core sample, covered in some sort of film. “Not like it and you were trying to drag the Hera into a transphasic state. Running scans on it in the Intel pod now.”

Chuckling, Rita forwarded the message to Sonak. Leave it to Dedjoy to be one step ahead of them.

“I think our hypothesis may have some traction, Mister Sonak,” she giggled. Her eyelids were heavy though… while whatever he had fed her had bolstered her system and he had calmed the terror that had consumed her, Rita Paris was still only human. The strain and stress of the day were catching up to her, and within seconds she was sound asleep, one hand still holding a PaDD as the other hand fell across her body.

Noticing her literally falling asleep, Sonak went to tuck her into bed, making sure she would rest comfortably in both body, mind and spirit before returning to his computer.

Now that the hypothesis was confirmed by factual data, there was still work to do.

Duran-Yeager sighed softly as she finished reading the PADD in her hands before she set it aside, the ship she was was on was an improvement over the standard Nebula-class starships that were prevalent in the fleet. The small Bajoran female knew she was going to have nightmares about what happened to her, as she let out a soft sigh. Suddenly she looked up as she thought she heard something. "Computer?" Duran-Yeager inquired.

"Go ahead?" came the response from the computer system of the USS Hera.

"Are there any lifeforms in my quarters other than me?" Duran-Yeager asked, in a soft tone of voice.

"Negative." came the expected answer. "You are alone Senior Chief." the system explained.

"Okay, thank you computer," Duran-Yeager responded as she rose to her feet. Being around that Orion had left Duran-Yeager feeling violated and dirty, and while the small Bajoran was almost sure that no sexual assault had taken place, it was him taunting her while he held her captive that was the big issue she was dealing with at the present time, not what he had done or rather the lack thereof, to her best recollection, he had not laid a finger anywhere upon her person.

Regardless of intent, however, the damage was done and Duran-Yeager knew that she was going to have nightmares about this event for weeks to come, added to the fact that she was not used to sleeping alone, meant she was about to have a very long night ahead of her.

Duran-Yeager went over to the replicator as the petite Bajoran began peeling off her clothing, "Computer replicate me-" she rattled off her clothing request, ten pairs of underwear, tailored to her size and ten pairs of socks, six pairs of shirts and six t-shirts without collars on them, two pairs of boardshorts and two new uniforms. One with a shirt and one with pants. Duran-Yeager picked up the items before she began folding them up and placing them into small piles for easy transportation into her bedroom.

Duran-Yeager was nude and she was sure she stank so a shower was in order, which she moved to the next thing to do in her rather lengthy to-do list before the small Bajoran female picked up her ruined clothing, she quickly removed the rank pip and combadge before she recycled everything, as she had a smile on her face while she did so.

Duran-Yeager tapped the display twice as her clothing vanished in a haze of bluish-white energy, the small female smiled as she padded back over to where her clothing was stacked so she began putting her clothing away, in her dresser next to her new bed. A few moments later she was finished sorting out her clothing before the small Bajoran padded into the bathroom.

Duran-Yeager activated the sonic shower and while she hated the things she did understand that they were more efficient than the old style water showers, she stepped in and closed the door behind her, just once she wished for an old style water shower. Syal frowned as she decided to hurry this along so the sooner she could be finished, the better as the small Bajoran decided to look into getting an older style shower installed.

Duran-Yeager sighed as she mentally began turning out the noise of the shower as it did its work on her body. Soon, however, she was finished and she stepped out, still as dry as ever but she felt clean. Duran-Yeager tapped the display once before she tapped the 'STOP' button, marked with a large red marking. The shower mercifully fell silent as she padded into the bedroom where she began to don her new clothing.

A few moments later, Duran-Yeager was wearing a new fresh uiniform as she placed her rank insignia onto her collar, she smiled as the small Bajoran began to tug on her boots before she departed her quarters, he next stop was sickbay.