The day had been exceptionally long and draining in more ways than one. Trying to reach Dauntless had been frustrating. Getting eaten by a hungry transporter and temporarily converted back to living energy, during which she could still feel and perceive and was fully awake for the entire experience had not been a good time. A combat mission had been led onto the planet’s surface, wherein she had tried to find a nonviolent solution but had failed, and been forced to take lives.

Most of her wanted a hot bath, a warm bed and maybe a little therapeutic massage. But another part of her was worried over what Sonak would think. Her actions were not entirely her own, as his thoughts and hers intermingled when they touched. He would know everything she had done today, and while he eschewed violence, she had been forced to embrace it. This was uncharted territory for her, and she was uncertain how her mate would react.

When she arrived at her quarters, he was not there, which was unsurprising given his own lack of need for rest. Sitting down on the couch to wait for him, the exhausted adventurer promptly fell asleep.

Sonak came almost an hour behind her, having the duties of reporting to sickbay after the events, dictating his own mission report as the new chief science officer, then directing the science teams in their work of collecting, tagging and later analyzing all the findings related to this encounter with a cosmic entity. He also made preliminary recommendations to Security for securing the powerful alien, in the most humane yet effective way available to them on his way back to the quarters he shared with his mate.

Once he entered, he could see instantly that the waking gaze she sent his way was as full of emotional disturbance as it was with weariness. A worry that belied her satisfied and loving smile she offered to greet him. Sonak went to her, and extended his two fingers to her in the ancient ritual of his people between those bonded as they were.

"You are as safe and sound as you were successful, Rita my wife. This is most satisfactory."

Cautiously, she extended her fingers to his, then paused before contact. “I… I killed today Sonak. Not out of malice nor anger, and I took no joy nor pride in it, but… I have killed. Are you sure?”

It was an old fear that seldom arose within her, yet here it was- the fear that her humanity might damage him somehow. But this time it was a stain on her soul, that of murder in wartime. They had both killed- neither was an innocent, and both had faced life and death on multiple occasions. But in this case she herself was conflicted, thus she approached the telepathic Vulcan cautiously lest her own choices adversely affect him.

Sonak had no emotion whatsoever; but he could feel hers through their bond. And because he was such a blank slate, he could all the more see the reflection of her soul upon his. He gently took her to a seat and looked her in the eyes.

"When vulcans of antiquity adopted the teachings of Surak, they were faced with the hostility, the violence and the anger that was still prevalent among them, those who did not follow the wise one and his path of pure logic.Their vow to wage peace was confronted by those who would wage war and destroy them without a second thought, regardless of their good intentions. When they asked Surak what to do, he told them a tale."

Making sure he had her attention, he told it to her in turn.

"Once there was a lyre player, so talented even the most savage of beasts would stop in it's tracks and listen to him in total rapture. one day that all the animals of the desert encircled him in complete awe of his heavenly music, an old mangy selhat came. The selhat looked at all the animals there with puzzlement, then at the lyre player. With one stroke, the selhat killed the musician and ate him."

He could see now how her emotions shifted towards what he was saying. And thus he concluded.

"As the selhat went on it's way, all the other animals behind him cried in horror and shouted in anger at him; :what have you done? Such beautiful music, how could you do such an awful thing?"

He looked straight into her eyes.

"The old selhat continued on it's way, not heeding any of it, not even turning its head once to look back at them. The old selhat was deaf."

He paused as the light grew in her eyes. And he voiced what she was realizing.

"In this life, there are unfortunately a few deaf selhats; this is no excuse to let yourself be eaten."

The smile that dawned across her face came despite itself- she did not want to smile so broadly, but the story, the simple truth of the philosophy and the wonder that was her spouse in being wise enough to tell her such a thing in such a moment buoyed her spirits so that her self-doubt and self-recriminations and fear washed away. She still felt guilt, but that was because taking lives was regretful, but she wouldn't be tortured by it now.

Sensing her thoughts, he nodded to her.

"In a crisis, each of us can only face it according to one's gifts."

"Every time. You just somehow always know precisely what to say to frame the situation and bring me to a logical conclusion. My master of philosophy," Rita curled up on her side on the couch and rested her head in his lap, relaxed and comfortable. For the 3,497th time she marveled at how she had managed to find the perfect man, who would remind her that by definition, he was not a man.

He raised an eyebrow.

"This is only logical. After six decades of kolinahr discipline and Starfleet experience, I ought to have learned a thing or two."

That joke brought a smile to her face- while it was assumed by most that he was humorless, it simply wasn't so. After all, a part of her lived within him, and sometimes manifested itself as dry humor and familiar colloquialisms. There was perhaps half a moment of silence before she spoke again, her voice quiet and unsteady. "It was scary, Sonak. Minotaurs and harpies and sword-wielding amazons and half of them immune to phaser fire. It escalated quickly. The sensor suite in the HUD is really so handy, I realized pretty quickly. I got hauled into the sky by a harpy and I thought I was going to fall to my death and get Doc and Malana killed too. I wished you were there, but... I was kind of glad that you weren't."

He nodded.

"I would have been a distraction. I would have impeded your responses. In this instance, it was a wise decision to place us in separate teams. It maximized our effectiveness for the sake of the entire operation... as facts have now demonstrated."

"I saw the spaceport sabotage mission went off flawlessly and bloodlessly, congratulations." Rita stroked his knee as she spoke, just enjoying contact with him and relaxing.

He frowned and almost sighed.

"Even destruction of mere material is regrettable. When we use violence, it means we have failed to resolve things properly; just like when you erase and restart a report you find yourself unable to write correctly. Yes, destruction and creation are two defining parts of our reality, from the birth and death of stars that spread the constituting elements of planets and life to the birth and death of life itself to renew and improve it. But we, as sentient beings, should be able to master it and even transcend it, not just follow or submit to it."

He made a simulacrum of an old phaser II with his hand.

"Take for example those opponents immune to phaser fire. They might be... but not the ground. At setting 12, you could melt the stone at their feet and it would collapse under their weight and resolidify before they could extricate themselves from it. Thus they would be unharmed but trapped and rendered harmless."

After imitating a sustained shot in a line at her feet, he did the same over her head.

"At setting 15, you could quickly make the ceiling fall to block their advance, force fliers to rereat, dig a ditch to impede and sprawl chargers and open an avenue for your retreat. Even at a mere level 4, you can ignite flammable material to create a wall of fire and smoke to distract from and cover your flanking maneuvers."

He locked eyes with her, noting the expression of distress she wore and feeling the simmering guilt and self-recrimination his words had brought about in her. She hadn’t thought of any of those options in the heat of battle, and while his specific examples might or might not have worked, they did serve to illustrate to her that she had not applied herself as creatively as she could have in the moment.

"I am not criticizing your actions or that of anyone else. My point is; when you think to end conflict with as minimal harm as possible rather than just fight to win, you work your mind to find ways to do better. We all did well today; but we must keep thinking that we can always do better... especially when lives are at stake."

His face remained as impassive as a jade mask. Yet it was to her as if he was smiling.

"At the very least, it is good exercise for the mind."

Laying her head back in Sonak’s lap, Rita’s thoughts turned inward, reviewing her actions throughout the day and second-guessing how she might have been more creative in her solutions, how she might have saved lives she had taken through her actions today. Melancholia and sadness accompanied those thoughts, as she saw opportunities she had passed by to resolve situations without resorting to murder. Having it pointed out to her that she could have avoided much of what she had been through today brought her to tears, as guilt and recrimination took over.

The Vulcan again sensed the surge of emotions and, most of all, familiar with those of Rita. Maneuvering her, he forced her to again look into his eyes.

"I understand why you feel like this. You are human; humans have yet to fully understand their nature and embrace their better calling, the promise of what they are and will be. And as a human, you are a prime example of that promise. This feeling you have demonstrated."

His gaze then wandered inward.

"For us, Vulcans, who have been in the past violent and savage beyond even human or Klingon standards, the path has been to abandon emotion and embrace logic. You humans will have to find your own path; and if I look at you, it promises to even be a much better one. Take this feeling and consider not how better you might have been, but how better you will be, because of what happened... and how it happened. Learning is growing... and growing is sometimes painful. That makes it all the more worthwhile... and you all the more worthy."

“That… really doesn’t make me feel any better. Telling me sometimes violence is unavoidable is undercut by you explaining ways I could have avoided having to use deadly force. Telling me I will be better in the future just makes me feel worse about what I did today.” Tears flowed freely as Rita wound herself up over the events of the day. “I tried so hard to not use violence to solve the problem, but I was just hedged in at every turn, and there wasn’t… I couldn’t see any way out. I didn’t want to, I pooled opinions and racked my brain and yet somehow it was all for nothing. Yet you and Thex and Yeager covered a spaceport gearing up for an invasion and destroyed their entire fleet, somehow never firing a shot.”

Sonak raised an eyebrow.

"Random fluctuations in probabilities acted in our favor. These can not be calculated, nor even expected... even if they can never be ignored. It could have gone many other ways."

"I feel like a failure. They made me into a soldier, and I did my duty. Yet you didn't have to compromise one bit." Rita sniffled as she dug out more of the emotions she'd been holding back all day, from the terror of her latest transporter accident to the fear that sharing this with Sonak would disappoint him. Emotionally she was raw and spent and had only hoped for reassurance, but as she unpacked it now she felt even worse.

Sonak this time looked at her sternly.

"You did your duty and led a successful mission in perfect accordance to the orders you were given; a mission that was believed to be suicidal, with low probability of success and almost no probability of leaving no casualty. But that is what you did. Yet you feel like a failure. In the eyes of whom? The captain? I am not aware that she put a reprimand on your record; quite the contrary, a commendation is certainly coming. Mine? You have exceeded any standard in efficiency and courage, in leadership and resolve. You had nothing to compromise and did not either. Yours? Did you not do your best... and succeed? Who could ask anything more of you or of anyone?"

He made a pause.

"If I were human, I would be quite proud of you."

Lying there staring up at him, she took the time to process all that Sonak had said, and the answer slowly dawned on the errant executive. As the realization washed over her face, Rita stared at the overhead. "Pride. it's my damned pride."

Sitting up, Rita grunted from the bruises and sore muscles that were still a part of her despite her trip to sickbay. She'd fallen asleep for an hour, long enough for her to stiffen up. But she did not let that stop her from making her point.

"When I got here, Starfleet had gone so dark. The uniforms, the ships, the colors... Thex said it was the Borg that really kicked it off, and that's when Starfleet became less exploratory and more military. The uniforms... I couldn't do it. Because if I put on one of those dark uniforms, I became a dark Starfleet too. I bought into this dark future of theirs. And I was determined to be better than that. To show the future how we used to do it on chutzpah and spunk in a minidress." The ancient astronaut paused to shake her head. "I don't think it would have gotten the job done. Not today."

"I had to do it their way. I had to go be a soldier in armor with a very spectacularly deadly weapon in my hand, and it was still close." Rita turned those big blue eyes on Sonak, reaching up to caress his cheek with a smile laden with regret. "I was wrong. I'm not showing them our old ways of doing things and proving our approach was better. I'm just learning that I have to do it their way, because that's the galaxy we live in now."

"Sometimes, it is necessary to experience the darkness to better see the light, " Sonak mused aloud." If you recall, we were sent out to make war, destroy and kill out of fear; yet, you managed to lead us to victory while sparing the life of this enemy that so frightened them. I think you did indeed show them all that there is, if not a better way, at least another way than the path of fear and aggression."

"Hey, that's right..." Realization slowly dawned on the conflicted chrononaut. "This was an assassination mission, and I managed to capture her and not kill her. I did kill people today, but only those that refused reason. I spared all I could, and I managed to bring Hera in alive. So I wasn't completely successful, but I did succeed in resetting the mission parameters to as non-lethal as possible. And I showed mercy in a war zone... that has to count for something, right?"

"Indeed.That, most of all, is what makes the Federation a worthy ideal to strive for."

As she so often did, Rita sought reassurance from the calmly logical man in her life, because she knew he always spoke the truth, and had wisdom far beyond her own. Along with the patience of a saint, for which she was eternally grateful. Some would see it as seeking reassurance from a man; she saw it as seeking wisdom to frame and understand her experiences. After all, he'd lived twice her lifetime already, and had trained physically, mentally and emotionally more than most men would ever consider to become who he was today. Sonak was, not unlike his mate, unique in the universe. For this and many other reasons, she treasured him, his perspectives and his opinions more than anyone in any universe.

And I you.

Touching as they were, he had caught her feelings and thought as easily as once he could have done at a distance. And if he could not share her emotional feelings, he could certainly appreciate them and share what they meant.

Do what you can with what you have where you are. Be a bringer of light into the lives of those you encounter. See further, for you stand upon the shoulders of giants. Save all you can. I can still live by the old Starfleet code, I just have to adapt it to situations, because practicality will sometimes hold sway. Life is a series of adaptations. Rita rolled over onto her side, her head still in Sonak's lap and her half-open eye still upon him. Knowing she wanted him to run his fingers through her hair, he obliged her, and she sighed contentedly.

Words of wisdom. You should listen to yourself and heed them, he agreed.

You put me back together every time. After the mission I'm always full of doubts and recriminations and emotional baggage. Then you put it into perspective, and help me understand it and my own mind, and then I'm okay again. I'll forever be grateful that you found me, because I missed this. I don't know if I could keep it together without you, y'know?

Of course you could. I just make it easier. Just as you make it much easier for me to understand and compose my responses in conversation with all these emotional beings with whom we work. This is but a part of what gives such value to our bond.

As he spoke in her mind, her grip on consciousness was slipping. The harrowed human adventurer was still forming thoughts, but wouldn't be for long at this rate.

His hands moved delicately along the side of her head, and he matched her brain frequency to his before lowering their intensity. Sharing his meditative state with her, because of her emotional and physical exhaustion, she gently drifted off to sleep. His own thoughts became like the reflection of the stars in a still pond.

I offer the peace of my soul. You offer the dreams of your heart. We are... Thy'la.

On the planet's surface of the world Starfleet had designated Meroset 347, the battle had raged as Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris led the away team. By he time the battle was over and the day won by the side of the angels, the buxom blonde of a bygone age was battered, bruised, broken in a few places yet remained upright and in command until everything had been tended to and the situation was under control. Only then had she called for a dust-off then headed to sickbay to get patched up.

Now, the morning after, she was following her doctor's orders and returning to sickbay. Her muscles still ached, the deep bruising from exposure to multiple explosions still felt within her frame. Her collarbone was knit, but the puncture wound had been deep, and it still ached when she used her left arm. The headache from her burst eardrum had not subsided overnight, although it had been knit and patched in Sickbay the night before. Deep bruises to her right shoulder had been the result of the large and heavy weapon she'd borne being driven into it by some of the explosions she'd caused, while her right wrist still bore some tenderness and inflammation from her poor swordsmanship.

So while she was intact and mobile and in no immediate danger, Rita Paris still should have been on bed rest instead of the light duty she had appointed herself.

But her ship's surgeon had instructed her to return to sickbay today for a follow-up, and the fulsome and friendly first officer had long ago made the internal decision not to argue with the chief medical officer on any starship upon which she served. Rita was far too prone to injury and spent far too much time in the care of said officers, and she knew that arguing with or disobeying one's doctor was a sign of flagrant disrespect for their craft and skills. Which a woman in her position, both professionally and physically, could ill afford.

Thus as she strode into Sickbay looking like the prime of health and an icon of Starfleet, if an icon 130 years out of date, she smiled genially and informed the staff that she was here to see Dr. Dael for her 10:00 appointment. Then she sat and waited patiently like anyone else, a PaDD in her lap and work to be caught up on as she bided her time and awaited her audience with the El-Aurian anatomist.

The ensign nurse assigned to Sickbay this morning came into Doctor Asa Dael's office to find young physician slumped over asleep at their desk. After returning from the away team mission, Asa had undergone surgery at the skilled hands of the EMH to repair internal bleeding. The surgery combined with all the various bruises and contusions acquired in their time reaching Hera had left the doctor feeling more exhausted than they ever had in their life.

A tiny speck of drool dribbled from the side of their mouth, and although short, their hair was still a bit of a disaster. The doctor had gone to their quarters after surgery to change clothes, after all, they couldn't keep wearing the bodysuit that was under their MACO armor around the ship. After a quick, unsatisfying shower and two hours sleep, the doctor was properly attired and back in their office in Sickbay. There was so much to be done still, and Asa was hoping their youth would allow them to power through the exhaustion and still be of service. They had promises to keep, to themself and the crew of the Hera after all.

About halfway through a cup of extra-strength Espresso the doctor had started reading through medical reports to understand all the injuries and treatments the crew had undergone in the last hectic 24 hour period. They were only three sentences in when sleep claimed the doctor, and they gone face down on the expansive desk.

The nurse had coughed politely, unsure how to best wake the sleeping figure before him. With a bit of a jolt, Asa sat up straight in a flash and groaned slightly to themself at the quick movement.

"Um, sorry about that, please send the Lieutenant Commander in," they replied, quickly pulling up the records of Rita's treatment from the night before. The door wooshed once, then again to signal that Paris was entering their office, but Asa was not facing her. The doctor had gone to retrieve more coffee from the replicator along with some cashews and Bajoran bread, lightly toasted.

"Good morning Lt. Commander Paris, can I get you anything?" Asa inquired in a forced-chipper voice, hoping to hide their exhaustion from the commanding officer.

"Sure, Doc. Can you tell me if this is accurate?" Paris turned the PaDD toward the dead tired doctor, which indicated their clock ins and clock outs, indicating they had been off duty for 3 hours in the past 25. "Because if it is, you and I are going to have a little discussion about that."

"Yes ma'am, it's accurate. Nothing a little coffee can't help me power through though. After all, so much of the crew is still recovering. You yourself are here for a check up, correct? What kind of physician would I be to turn my back on my patients? I still need to complete a more thorough exam on the counselor and see if I can't determine what, quite literally, possessed her. I need to check in on Hera and ensure she is healing, but also ensure her psychic energies aren't strong enough to kill us all. And we need to get back around to ensuring the transporter is no longer trying to eat you when we can...." the doctor trailed off, realizing they were babbling.

The effort of speaking seemed to have let the little physician run out of steam. They slumped in their chair a bit, having a feeling they had probably earned whatever tongue lashing they were about to get. After all, if this was any other crew member, Asa would have hauled them to their quarters to rest. Somehow though, they expected themself to be able to rally and power through.

"You do have all of that to do, this is true." The first officer eased herself into the chair opposite the chief medical officer, only a bit stiffly. Scissoring her legs, she crossed them smoothly at the knee then tucked her skirt in around her thighs as if she'd been doing it for years. "All of it is important and should be tended to as soon as possible. All of them are duties that ride upon your shoulders, and you have very little practical experience. Diagnosing a goddess is not something I'm sure they teach at Starfleet medical, even in this day and age."

"But you are no good to anyone if you are too exhausted to stay focused, doctor. While your devotion to duty is admirable and your dedication is beyond reproach, you must tend to thyself before you may tend to others." While it was a bit of a scolding, Paris' tone was gentle rather than reproving- an appeal to the young doctor's common sense. "I'm here because I got seven hours of sleep and some therapy and I'm okay today. I'm supposed to be off duty, but I got that sleep, I processed what I went through and I am okay, so I am making the rounds. Your orders were to report in 24 hours at 22:00 last night. I don't even have an appointment, Doc."

"I'm going to assign one of the yeoman to take Ensign Jurot's statement, and your staff will do a full workup on her. I want for her to be your top priority when you wake up. Until then I'm going to confine her to quarters just to be sure. Someone is playing a game with that woman's life one way or the other, and I'm not sure it's done just yet." The Starfleet siren's brows furrowed at the thought. "The goddess will take care of herself- she's immortal, I don't think 12 hours is going to kill her and the computer is monitoring her vitals, so you'd be alerted to a bad turn. I promise to go nowhere near a transporter, you have my word. That, of all your workload, can wait."

"So, Doc? Go to bed. Eight hours of sleep, get some hot food inside you, and you can come back to work at 22:00 hours for my appointment. Understood?" Rita Paris smiled that winning smile of hers as if the exhausted anatomist had won a game show prize.

"Yes ma'am," Asa replied, then more softly, "I-I did try. In my quarters. It was just...too quiet in there when I first woke up from surgery. I don't know, I think I'm still a bit wired. Maybe some throat singing in the background or something...." Then, as if remembering themself, "22:00 sounds excellent. Maybe spend the day in your office though? I know you are healing too, and it might not be the best day to walk every inch of the ship...medically speaking, of course."

The doctor concluded with a familiar blush coming to their ears. It always felt so odd giving recommendations to people who outrank them both in experience, years, wisdom, and well, rank. However in this one regard, Doc Dael was certain of their knowledge. They saw the beating the buxom blonde took the day before, and even with all the healing technology out there, there was no cure for good old fashioned rest. Which made them blush anew at their own folly in trying to work when they were so far past their limits.

"I've been a bit silly, haven't I ma'am?"

"You, Doctor Dael, are trying to live up to the faith that has been placed in you. Which is admirable, and in no way do we wish to curtail that. But it's the command's job to make sure that you take care of yourself as well." Paris paused to peer at the peerless physician, those big blue eyes radiating sincerity. "This has been a lot of firsts for you, these past 24 hours. I suspect we're going to have some conversations about this in the near future, as well as down the line. A day like yesterday doesn't just go away, and get forgotten. It tends to be... formative. In a number of ways. The captain and I are here for you, and I think Ensign Jurot might just be an actual counselor again. So don't be afraid to talk about it and figure out how to deal with it, and how to live with it."

"Yes ma'am, I haven't been around her much, but I get the feeling you are right. I look forward to getting to know the real woman, and finding out who would presume to hijack her mind. But for now...I think you are right about the imminent need for sleep."

"I think so too. Go get some rest, then pick all of this up where you left it off, all right? Yes, I promise to stay on very light duty. I promise to take it easy and pretend I am an old lady who would like to live to be a much older lady," Rita joked, easing herself back up out of the chair. "And I promise to come let you check me out and see how I am doing, 12 hours from now."

The doctor let out an easy laugh, a welcome feeling after the last 24 hours. “Affirmative to that, ma’am. Shall we?” they asked, rising slowly from their chair, preparing to retreat for some much needed rest.

“I’ll walk you to your quarters, Doctor. It’s the least I can do… after all, we can’t have you falling asleep on your feet and riding the turbolifts for 5 minutes as you doze…”

A handy element of being a time and dimension traveling adventuress was that clutter was not something one tended to accumulate. As she looked over the deck she'd been using in the Chief Flight Control office, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris realized that aside from a sprawl of PaDDs and flimsies that tended to infest any space that she worked, the only personal ornamentation she had to mark that she'd been here was a 28 cm representation of the USS Exeter, Constitution refit that sat on a flight base that kept it magnetically hovering 10 cm above the desk as if in flight. An little piece of history that the living anachronism liked to see, to remind her of where she'd come from.

Having summoned the colorfully-plumed Mona Gonadie and the recently promoted Chief of Flight Control, Rita Paris busied herself straightening up the desk, filling out a little bit of paperwork before she stopped herself. After all, she had to instruct how it was done now, not do it herself. Taking the few minutes she'd arrived early, she gazed out the floor to ceiling transparent aluminum viewports to take in the sight and sigh. She had loved this office, with its view of the enormous flight deck, and she would have been quite content to simply be the ship's hotshot pilot moving forward. managing the flight crew, flying missions here and there and piloting a starship so mighty as to have been undreamt of in her day.

But like her post on the USS Exeter, time had moved on, and the universe had decided that the curvaceous commander was needed elsewhere and she was now bound to other duties and responsibilities. Now she was the First, which she had been briefly once before for Sonak, now for Telvan. Her duty was now to run the ship for the Captain, to insure that the reports were filed and that the senior staff were handling their departments. All of that could be done while managing flight control as well, but that wasn't fair to the officers beneath her. Rita had no reason to squat on the position and refuse to give it up. Instead it was time to make way for the next generation, and for her to teach and foster them along.

Which didn't mean that she didn't have regrets, nor that she wasn't staring out at the flight desk wistfully when the next generation arrived to report in.

The door to the corridor was open when Melanie Dox arrived. She had been ready for her appointment with the First Officer a good five minutes early and took the turbolift that would drop her off as far from the Flight Control office on Deck 4 as possible so as to give her a few moments to walk off some of the anxiety that was bubbling in her stomach. She had been hoping for the door to be closed for a last second to steel herself but was as ready as she was ever going to be. "Lieutenant Dox, reporting as ordered."

"Come in Lieutenant," Paris responded without turning away from the view. "How are those first morning jitters treating you?" The question might have been asked with sarcasm or a teasing air, but Dox had spent enough time around the curvaceous commander to know that wasn't the first officer's modus operandi. Instead, she seemed to understand the internal process of the anxious astronaut, and not only made allowance for it but addressed it directly. Which she did without recrimination nor condemnation, as if she understood it all too well from personal experience.

The knot in Dox's stomach loosened up just a bit at the Commander's comment. "About as well as I expected, Commander. Which is to say terribly, I suppose." Dox replied with just a touch of casualness she felt was appropriate as a response. After a few days serving on the Hera, the Junior Lieutenant was feeling more comfortable around Rita Paris then she has with almost anyone she had met in her time in Starfleet. But the weight of the responsibility she was about to be given was still giving her significant stress. After all, the Hera was her first assignment on a Starship and she was being promoted to the Chief Flight Control Officer after her first mission.

"Well, would it make you feel better if I yelled at you or threatened to take away the promotion if you so much as screw up even a tiny bit? You make me curious what life at the Academy is like in the future, Dox," Paris mused as she turned around to take in the sight of the young officer. Uniform clean and pressed, rank pips aligned, hair controlled, eyes darting about a bit as if looking for danger at every turn... yup, she was ready for her first day.

"Have a seat, chief. We'll go over some of the basics life filling out duty roster, filing revised duty rosters and what to do when someone doesn't show up for their shift..." With that, Paris launched into a whirlwind of procedures and programs and possibilities that looked like they ran a whole lot easier from the outside.

That's when Ensign Gonadie made her entrance. "Hey boss ladies! I mean... Ensign Gonadie reports as ordered!" Going from her usual casualness to the stiff military stance and a salute, the colorful woman couldn't help but burst into a chirping giggle. "Ok, seriously, congrats, Lieutenant. I ran this department for far too long and the captain promised me that she'd get someone awesome to run the show as soon as she could." Spreading her arms to encompass the two other women in the room, she beamed brightly. "And lo, she has brought me two lovelies so that I may continue my research and development and become the best flyer in not only the history of my race, but of the galaxy."

The momentary distraction absolutely thrilled Melanie, who welcomed the break that the Miradonian ensign offered with her exuberant entrance, was beginning to feel as if she were trying to absorb all of the information in the Galaxy. She also felt a wave of relief at the brilliantly colored ensigns comments but was still anxious and responded as such. "Good morning, I'm glad to see you. I've been..." Dox trailed off, standing up to greet Gonadie.

Slipping slightly out of her comfort zone, which was generally running on high guard against making embarrassing breaches in Starfleet protocol, Dox turned to the striking First Officer. "I've been hoping to... I'm... Uh... My apologies. Commander, may I..." Dox stumbled over her words, feeling like asking for permission to speak freely was far to formal considering how lightly and casually Ensign Gonadie had entered without any immediate reprimands. She looked at Paris as she spoke, hoping that the First Officer got the gist of what she was stumbling over. "I have something that's been... bothering... no... worrying me." She gestured at the room around them. "More than just trying to learn all of this."

A slight frown crossed the lips of the Lieutenant Commander, and she spoke up to the overhead. "Computer, please secure the hatches and soundproof the room. No one gets in on my authorization, Paris, Rita, LTCDR, 8675309."

The doors slid shut and sealed with a hiss, and the computer chirruped.

=^= Room sealed and soundproofed, Commander. =^=

"Thank you computer. All right, Miss Dox. It's just the three of us in here." When Paris spoke, she did so calmly and with encouragement in her tone. "Permission to speak freely, and it goes no further than this room if that's what you wish. So out with it- what's on your mind?"

"Um... thank you." Dox turned to look at the closed door then back to the two officers. "It's just that... I am... I'm extremely proud for this opportunity. I'm proud and nervous and excited all at the second time. I still can barely believe it, really. "Her attention focused momentarily towards Paris as she spoke then back again towards Gonadie. "But... I've been... I mean. This position." Melanie realized she was rambling and took a moment to compose herself. "I'm proud to take this position. I'm honored. But I don't want to advance at you expense, Ensign Gonadie. I don't want to advance at anyone's expense. If you are really good with this, then I'm super relieved, but I didn't want to let this go unsaid. It was important to me" Dox turned to Paris. "Thank you, Commander. I really am excited by all of this. But... I'm more excited for everything else this ship offers... like maybe actually being friends with those with whom I serve and I didn't want that threatened is all."

Nodding, Paris had previously had similar concerns about Mona Gonadie, and now it seemed the ensign was destined to explain her choice of a career path once again. "Sounds like your cue, Ensign Gonadie."

Mona just shook her head and walked up to Dox, her grin fading. Resting one hand on the other woman's shoulder, the brightly plumed Miradonian looked her in the eye. "I'll teach you anything you need to know and fly anything you need to be flown, but understand one thing. I'm in Starfleet to become a legendary flyer. Not a leader. To do that, there are certain things I need to do, and the higher I climb in the ranks and the longer I'm a department head, the longer that will take. You take that chair, you make it yours, and I'll support you in any way that you need as your friend and as your assistant, ok? I already sat in that position for a few years and I have to make up for lost time as it is."

"I'm glad to hear, thank you." Dox smiled with a slight embarrassed twinge. The nerves in her stomach lightened as her concerns were unfounded and she was grateful for the opportunity to express them. "And thank you, Commander. I appreciate it." The relieved pilot sat back down, not wanting her moment to completely derail the meeting.

"I already had this talk, but I figured you needed to hear it directly from our resident flight engineer," the fulsome first officer explained. Then she gestured expansively to the room. "So, we're still off the record- complain, tell us how unfair it is that there must be more qualified officers. Tell us how you don't deserve the job and how terrified you are that you're going to screw up and let everybody down and be an embarrassment. Get it all out in here while you have the chance, so afterward you can hold you head up and act like you belong in this job."

"It'll take a while to feel like it, but you need to look like it from day one. Confidence, Miss Dox. Fake it til you make it." While it wasn't the most conventional of military career advice, the senior officer understood the junior officer reasonably well, because she had been there herself to some degree. While very different women, they shared some neurosis and baggage, which her time with Sonak and with Starfleet Psych had helped Rita put into perspective. Now she turned that experience toward mentoring others, a function of the post she filled.

Guiding the next generation, teaching them the ways of Starfleet from a bygone age.


"All of that and more, Commander." Dox replied. "I have no idea what I'm doing. Seriously. But... but if you all... if the Captain... thinks I'm up for it, I'm going to trust you, and trust that my own doubts are just that. Doubts. And I will be doing everything I can to get up to speed and do the best job I can, here."

“A journey of a thousand miles beings with a single step, Miss Dox. That,” the buxom bombardier pointed out, “was the first step- accepting the responsibility, admitting that you have doubts but committing to do the best job that you can under the circumstance. We’ve got you, Lieutenant- ask your questions when you have them, and you will have many. Seek guidance when you need it, because no one expects to you to be a bastion of self-sufficiency. Come complain about it when it is too much, either to your superior or your subordinate, both of whom have been there and genuinely understand.”

“That ought to make the new scary job a little easier, eh?” Paris offered a warm smile that she hoped was encouraging. Dox still wasn’t entirely sure about her, and Rita understood that and didn’t take it personally. Superior officers who took an interest in junior officers were often maneuvering their own careers, working to get out from under a duty before it reflected poorly on them, throwing the junior officer under the shuttle, as it were. It happened in her day, and she was sure that hadn’t changed a bit. But Dox was a great officer in the making, and Rita Paris had no trouble taking her time to earn the introverted officer’s trust. If one’s motives were pure one could afford to wait for the other party to come around, and while not naturally patient, Rita was willing to play the long game with the brilliantly capable pilot in whom she was investing her time.

"Thanks, Commander. You can be sure I'll be asking for help and asking questions." Dox smiled, letting out some of the anxiety over this new set of responsibilities. She had always had a hard time learning to trust people but found herself letting her guard down more and more around her new First Officer and was getting more comfortable with the idea. She looked around the office, taking it all in. "Both of you, I'm sure. It's good to know you'll have my back while I figure this all out." She looked down momentarily at the badge on her chest that suddenly seemed to mean more then it had just a few days ago, still smiling. "I guess this is what belonging to something bigger is really about. They talked about it a lot at the academy, but I never really saw it for myself until coming Here."

"Indeed, Miss Dox, indeed. As for me," Paris turned to take in the view and sighed. "I'll have to find myself a new office, it seems. But I certainly won't find one with this view. I think that's my biggest regret of ceding the position to you... well, that and getting to pilot the big girl." Paris rested a hand on the bulkhead and patted it fondly. "But that's not my destiny- it's yours. So it falls to me to help you meet it."

"The first officer's office on deck two has a nice view. It's a bit bigger and has a half lounge, too. I think the captain kind of got screwed in the last refit - her office is the only one that remained a closet. I mean, she barely has a toilet in there, let alone room for that mini-couch. I have no idea how she stands it. It's probably why she keeps the lights dim." Gonadie was off on a tangent, but caught herself. "But I'm sure we'll all do wonderfully. I'll have my research, Dox has a new department and responsibilities, and you have a whole ship to play with." With a wide smile, Mona nodded happily.

"I really hope my new responsibilities mean I get to check out that research, Ensign!" Dox said somewhat excitedly. "Considering how amazing those flight controls are, I can't wait to see what you come up with next."

"You'll be seeing my new flight suit soon, I think. I should have it ready for live trials in a few weeks." Mona was practically beaming at this point. "Speaking of suits, have you two caught sight of the new uniforms they're supposed to be rolling out in the next year or so? The Commodore was wearing it already. Commander, can you do some rumor control on that?"

“Well, if what the Commodore was modeling is the next generation of uniforms, I have to say I agree with the design,” Paris offered with considerable enthusiasm. “They are a lot closer to what they were back in my day, with full bold color up top and the black skirt or slacks below. It looks less sinister, less… warhawk. More like we came to be seen because we came to help. That’s why I still wear my old uniform, between us pilots. I just couldn’t wrap myself head to toe in black and feel like I was Starfleet, you know? Better to look like I just fell out of the Guardian than to sell out like that. But it looks like for once, I might be ahead of my time, given how the new uniforms look. Assuming what the Commodore was wearing was the next edition…”

Having not seen the Commodore or the uniform in question, Dox instead got stuck on one of her XO's other comments. "The Guardian? I know I should know this. I remember... remembering something from the academy but I'm drawing a total blank."

“Ahhhh,” Paris balked, realizing she was likely letting slip classified information that she knew about, but was likely not common knowledge for a very good reason. “Nothing to worry about, Lieutenant. If it becomes relevant someday I’ll be happy to tell what I know, but I strongly suspect the subject is classified, and I should know better than to run my mouth about it.” For once in Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox’s experience, Paris not only deflected the answer but looked chagrined as she had made a personal mistake that she found onerous.

It was a humanizing moment that gave Dox a little comfort, similar to their interaction on the Runabout earlier. That the first officer allowed her to see that humanity meant a lot to Melanie, though she didn't want to draw attention to that as they were in mixed company and, as was her way, she was bearing just a twinge of embarrassment for prompting the moment with her question. "Aye, Commander." Dox then turned to Mona to change the subject back. "Well, now I want to see this uniform. I can't help but agree with the Commander... I would not object to more color in our uniforms."

Mona grinned, getting an idea. "Computer, we'd like to see holographic life-size renders of the uniform like the one Commodore Meowlith is wearing modeled for women in the standard three colors please." With a chirrup and a few seconds to process the request, the computer complied, generating three static displays of the uniform, boots and all, in the middle of the office.

The computer then began to list off a bit of info about them. "These uniforms are currently in the planning stages and are being tested by select members of the admiralty. Design harkens back to the formal red uniform used in the late twenty third century and is meant to usher in an age of more modern exploration and diplomacy while attempting not to overload the senses of current Federation member species. Though some fabric color inconsistency and variability issues have arisen during testing, these have been almost overcome with more rigorous calibration of clothing replication techniques."

Mona blinked a few times appreciatively at the new uniforms. "So much nicer than these christmas trees we wear now..."

“Hmf. Well, they do seem to still offer the skirt option, so I might just update my uniform after all, if these go through,” Paris admitted, circling around the holographic representations. “Although I’d have to give up on gold and settle in with red. But, times change… at least blonde looks good in red,” she admitted. “How about you, Dox? Thoughts? The hatch is still sealed and you are still off the record until I unseal it…

"I agree, you would look good in red." Dox replied, feeling comfortable enough to allow a slight joke to slip out. "And I think... yeah, no. I would not even be close to pulling off a skirt. But all kidding aside, I like them. At least if the lights on the bridge are dim it won't look like the ship is being crewed by floating heads."

"You people and your limited vision range..." Mona shook her head as she walked around the new uniforms. "Computer, please dim the lights to fifty percent in the normal sentient visible spectrums and overlay the Miradonian visible range over the current uniform so that others can see it similarly."

"Processing," replied the computer, followed by a series of chirrups and the lights dimming. A few more chirrups and the holographics finally kicked in, a swirl of bright red and purple replacing the black of the uniforms on Dox and Mona.

"This is what about three percent of the Federation see." Mona waved at the new uniforms. "Even in holographics, but these new uniforms are severely toned down, which I really like."

"Wow." Dox looked down at the projected colors all around her and on her own uniform. "This is... beautiful." Then a thought rushed across her mind and her face lit up. "Is this... what does SPACE look like to you?"

"So beautiful that we invented space travel before the parachute," Mona replied, grinning knowingly. That was apparently a bragging point for her race that impressed everyone she had ever met.

And Melanie Dox was no exception. Her mind was racing looking at the projected colors and she had a thousand questions but she felt like she was letting herself wander too far from why she was there that morning in her excitement. "It's amazing and I'd love if I could ask you some questions about all this later, Ensign Gonadie. I've got some... thoughts." Then Dox turned back towards Paris. "But I don't want to hold up anything any further."

“Computer, unseal the hatches on this office. Authorization Paris, R, LTCDR 8675309,” the old-school officer called to the overhead before fixing Dox with one of those smiles that reminded you that Rita Paris could have been a model had she not chosen Starfleet as a career. “You aren’t holding anything up, Miss Dox- if anything, it sounds like you two should spend some time together, getting to know one another, and sharing your enthusiasms without the authority figure hovering about. You have the basics, you have a very able assistant to ask any and all questions that may come to mind, and you know where to reach the old chief should you need help beyond any of that. Who will welcome all queries, and not assume that a question indicates incompetence. So with that said,” Paris rose from her seat, smoothed out her skirt and gathered up her omnipresent PaDD.

“I’ve places to go and people to be. So ladies, I leave you Flight Control. Make me proud, which I say only because I know without a doubt that you will do just that.” Paris paused to take one last, longing look out at the flight deck, her face betraying an expression of the heart, that was a clear moment of giving up one dream to achieve another. With a small sigh, the astronaut of another age turned back to the junior officers, a good-natured smile settling onto her face that fooled neither of them. Then with a nod, the curvaceous commander exited the flight control office, never looking back.

With that, the tone of the room shifted to a more somber one, at least for Melanie Dox, who now felt the weight of her new responsibilities. The new department chief looked at Mona and then to the desk. "I... Guess that's... mine n..."

Then Dox noticed it. The small model of the U.S.S. Exeter still on the desk. Rita Paris' former ship from another era. "I... I'll bring that to her new office later." Dox felt more emotional then she thought she would but immediately thought that it wasn't good to let that show. Fake it until you make it was what Paris told her, and this seemed a good enough point to start. "The duty roster for the day is already set. And day to day, that really doesn't change all that much but i'll need to review the personnel in the flight crew... See who should be where and when."

Then, Dox looked up to Ensign Gonadie. "I'm on deck myself for helm duty at oh two hundred hours, which means I have a little time to follow Commander Paris' advice and indulge my interests if you don't mind." Dox smiled at Ensign Gonadie. "I would absolutely love to see what you're working on."

Grinning and sliding onto the lounge couch, Mona couldn't help herself. "Computer, clear current holographics, reset lighting, and bring up the current data on my flight suit project..."

Sick Bay was abuzz with a steady thrum of the full medical staff of the Hera patching up and helping the crew returning from being on various away teams needing medical assistance. Lieutenant Junior Grade, Doctor Asa Dael stumbled through the door, holding their side and grimacing with each step.

The doctor was proud of the way their staff was comporting themselves, and made a mental note to personally commend each officer in some personal way as soon as time allows. They would have to check with the EMH for the details on ways each person had shown excellence, but they were confident there would be plenty of examples.

For the most part the entire sick bay was a hive of activity and bodies with one exception. The area surrounding Counselor Avender Jurot was a desert of emptiness. The forlorn figure of the counselor sat on a bed with only a silent security detail for company. The doctor approached the counselor, taking in her lost expression, so different from the confident, even arrogant demeanor Dael had come to associate with the auburn haired Betazoid.

“Hi there, Counselor. How are you holding up?” they asked her. Asa sat gently on the bed next to the counselor, trying to hide the immense pain they were in, knowing the clock was ticking on how long they could stay upright from the injuries they received on the away mission. Still, first things first, check on the wounded.

Avender turned, her eyes searching Asa's. "I'm doing as well as I can, I suppose. I wish there were more than I could do. So many injured... yet I'm physically untouched. You're still injured. You shouldn't be worried about me. Please take care of yourself."

With a wince, Doc Dael turned to lay in the bed next to the counselor. The day took its toll and they were beyond exhausted. They weren't sure about the stability of the counselor yet, and concerned about what could have caused her to have had such a dramatic shift in behavior during her time in section 31. After all, Asa had seen vids of what section 31 was capable of, and they were concerned for their crew mate. However, if they didn't seek treatment soon for their ruptured spleen and other slow internal bleeds, well, they wouldn't be around to help.

"I think you are right, counselor. Time to do just that..."

The EMH appeared to be finishing up with the patient he was working on. Asa turned towards the vivacious hologram and waved him down, "Doctor, I think I require some urgent assistance, if you please."

The EMH had been running a device over a plasma burn over someone's face, but at the call, he handed it off to an orderly and headed over to Asa's side with a tricorder immediately. "And where do you hur... Oh..." His initial scans told him he didn't need to ask where it hurt. It hurt everywhere and this person was about an hour from dying from internal bleeding. "I'm going to need to operate immediately."

Glancing around for a nurse or someone that wasn't too busy, the EMH only saw Ensign Jurot that wasn't busy treating someone else. "Ensign Avandar Jurot, ship's Counselor, right? They're bleeding out internally and I need you to help me." Grabbing a tray of medical tools, he set them up next to the biobed that Asa was laid out on. Then, without ceremony, he used a laser scalpel and sliced their uniform top off, exposing their midriff so he could operate.

Asa heard the buzz of activity all around them and gave in to unconsciousness, feeling every ache as the blackness claimed them.

"I'll need you to start by replicating a half liter of the patient's blood for a transfusion. Then come back and lend me your hands so we can drain the fluid build up in their abdomen before it poisons them." The British modeled EMH didn't even check to see if Jurot needed further guidance as he set about with a deep tissue regenerator, scanner, muscle knitter, and some other conical tool, in both hands, trying to heal Asa's spleen and other leaking organs.

Avendar's time aboard the hospital ship served her well. She immediately followed the EMH's orders, and, as soon as the blood was ready, she prepped it for transfusion. She then quickly sterilized her hands and stood across the bed from the doctor, awaiting his signal for the procedure to begin. EMH or not, the doctor's will was law in a sickbay, and Avender was eager to assist.

The EMH worked furiously for several minutes as he patched up Asa's internal organs, finally getting the internal bleeding to stop. he then nodded. "Ok, start that infusion and grab an anticoagulant and hemoglobin booster... That one, the red and orange hypo. Three clicks should be enough. I'll start purging the pooling blood. And check their neurosynaptic response." The holographic doctor was demanding, but since Jurot seemed to know what she was doing, he left the status and care of the patient to her while he dealt with the tedium of the technical work. And so with two scanners and a micro-surgical transporter in the other, he began the slow process of draining the pooled blood before it turned too toxic.

Avender did as she was told, then the Betazoid spotted something. "Doctor, there appears to be some material behind the Gastrosplenic ligament."

"That would be the splenic kidney that El-Aurians have. Good eye for spotting it. It looks rather bruised, but it should be fine if we inject some alcohol directly into it once we're done." The EMH scanned a few more places and removed a bit more dead blood before giving Asa a mild painkiller hypo. "Ok, that should about do it. Under the Chief Medical Officer's desk, there's a small bottle of blackberry brandy that I've stashed away for severe medical emergencies. Could you please grab that while I rouse our patient?"

Counselor Jurot smiled, and said "Yes doctor." She took a few steps , then asked a nurse where the CMO's desk was. After a minute, the Betazoid beauty returned with the bottle. "The medicine you requested, doctor." She grinned broadly.

"Thank you, Avandar. Now we see how they feel and see if they'll drink it." Taking the bottle, the EMH poured a shot and set it aside for the moment as he administered a stimulant to wake up Asa. "Time to wake up. How are we feeling? A bit better, I hope? I have some oral medicine for you to take as soon as you can sit up a little."

Avendar looked at the EMH. "I'm ready to assist further if you need me, Doctor."


Asa opened their eyes groggily. “Better is not a word I would use in this particular case, but I don’t think I’m actively dying anymore.”

With that, the doctor slowly pushed up on their elbows, surveying their state of relative undress and the concerned expression in the counselor’s eyes. They also noted the security staff standing tensely in the back of the room, and wondered as to the reason the counselor was not being forced back to their cot. Something…..rushed…must have happened.

“I pushed it a bit too close, huh? Counselor, are you feeling ok? I’m glad to see you smiling, it’s a good look for you.” That said, they reached for the medicine in the Doctors hand and took a sip, a bit surprised at the shock of alcohol hitting their tongue.

“Splenic kidney, or do you just want me drunk?” the doctor asked the Doctor with a wink and a grin.

Chief Councelor Avender Jurot sat in her quarters. She was exhausted after reading months of personal logs, medical entries, and case files- all filed by Councelor, then Chief Councelor Avender Jurot.

She had no memory of any of it.

All of the entries were logged during the time she was apparently "possessed" by a being named 'Gaia.' Over a year of her life, gone.

She watched a replay of an awards ceremony. There she stood, proudly at attention in her dress white uniform, as an admiral awarded her the Starfleet Decoration of Gallantry.

She had no memory of that either.

She watched hours of sessions she performed, culminating in a partial video of Lieutenant Commander Paris angrily denouncing her, and telling her that she would be sent alone to Hera "by your request." The body language of Chief Councelor Jurot in those sessions was arrogant, dismissive... everything a Councelor should not be.

She stood and stretched- she'd had enough for one day.

Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain behind her eyes, then an emptiness. She knew immediately what had happened.

Her Izmadi, her beloved Akea, was dead.

The Borg assimilated him seven years ago, along with all of his shipmates. She'd felt his thoughts occasionally when she was asleep and he was in rest cycle. Avendar dreamed of the day when he would rescued, and they would be reunited.

That would never happen now.

Everything that had happened in the past days, added to this new loss, was more than she could bear. She dropped to the floor, sobbing. Her thoughts turned inward hoping to dull the flood of emotions.

It worked. Mercifully, she fell asleep on the floor of her quarters- a deep, dreamless sleep.

Time had passed, and while she had tended to a great number of other duties, there was still a rotating guard on the as-yet-not-debriefed Ensign Jurot, under her orders. While there were others more qualified, and others who could bear the responsibility, First Officers didn’t shirk duties. Whatever had happened to Jurot, she had certainly changed, and someone had to either clear her for duty or recommend her transfer.

Which ‘someone’ was looking an awful lot like Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris.

Visiting Jurot in her quarters might ordinarily be a more comfortable atmosphere for her, except that if circumstance were to be believed, those quarters were all new to her as well. Professionalism indicated a neutral ground, so Paris chose the Chief Counselor’s Office on Deck 12. Given that the last meeting she’d had with the woman was there, it lent some circularity to the cycle that Rita found appealing, and it seemed a logical choice.

Thus when the security officer escorting the Counselor delivered her to the office, Paris dismissed him. Whatever was going on, Jurot had been a model counselor for the past few days and had given no one any trouble, so it was time to give her a little breathing room and make the recommendation. Which meant a frank conversation had to come to pass. Rising, she offered a handshake to the Betazoid beauty.

“Take a seat wherever you like, Miss Jurot. I know we’ve met, but harrowing circumstances being what they are… I’m Rita Paris, first officer of the Hera.”

The Betazoid accepted the offered hand. "Thank you for taking the time to meet with me Commander Paris. I haven't had the opportunity to thank you for rescuing me. And, if it's not a breach of protocol, please call me Avendar." She smiled broadly.

“It isn’t, but this is an official report, so I’d prefer to keep it professional if it’s all the same. So,” Paris gestured broadly as there were a number of seats about, and she had chosen one on a couch to not take a commanding position. “Have a seat, and let’s start from the beginning. You mentioned the last thing you recall is being on the USS Hood, is that correct?”

Jurot sat in one of the many chairs. "Wow, this is a big office! Commander, I was aboard the USS Nobel, an Oberth class hospital ship where I am... was... one of the counseling team. We were in orbit around Azyek VI, where we'd stopped a large epidemic of plasma flu. I was one of many wounded when the Azyekian fringe group that released the virus tried to stop us from treating members of the ruling congress."

The counselor shifted uncomfortably in her chair. There was a doctor in sickbay 3 where I was recovering that I'd never seen before. She was very beautiful, and I sensed she was hiding something. I also sensed that she was very, very old. She turned to look in my direction, and the next thing I remember was waking up in a prison. I tried to reach out with my mind to discover a clue to my whereabouts, but my telepathic ability was gone. I felt intense pain, and passed out. When I awoke, there was an old woman bringing me food, then a Minotaur. A few hours later, you broke through the door."

"Since then you've had a security detail attached to you, because we haven't debriefed you and we weren't certain if you were a danger. So I'm going to come clean, Miss Jurot." The officer in the anachronistic uniform leaned forward in her chair, knees tightly together. "The best we've been able to piece together is that you were possessed by a probe of one of the titans that are awakening- powerful godlike alien entities that are ancient and powerful who have been dormant or imprisoned, but are making a comeback."

The blonde paused to run her fingers through her asymmetrical bob cut to sweep the hair out of her eyes, then held her hands out before her. "I know this sounds a bit far-fetched, but the being who freed you is the goddess Hera, who had enslaved the planet we freed you from. But she claims it was Gaia who had possessed you- or some tiny sliver of her sentience, at least. Gods and titans end elder beings of the universe have become a problem, it seems, and you've been dragged into the middle of it."

"For what small comfort it may be, I'm genuinely sorry this has happened to you, Counselor." Paris was earnest as she spoke the words, because she understood what it was to lose your life in a second, and have to adapt to an all new one while crippled by loss.

"Gaia," Avendar repeated. "I never heard of her." She thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I've lost over a year of my life, and transferred to a warship of some kind, and somehow..." A tear formed in her left eye, despite her attempt to stop it. "Do you think this 'Gaia' could be responsible for the loss of some of my abilities?"

Grabbing the box of tissues on one of the end tables, Paris got up and sat next to the counselor. "That's one theory. Another is that the shock of having her driven out of you may have short-circuited them, and you can reboot them. Or it might be that you retrain them. Again, we don't know for certain. But those patterns and neural pathways still exist in your brain according to your scans, so the possibility is there. So there's hope- it may just take some time."

"Time." The Auburn haired Betazoid smiled sadly. "I never saw time as an issue, really. Now it scares me. What if this 'Gaia' comes back?" She grabbed a tissue as the tears started to flow more openly.

This was a far cry from the woman who boasted that she could casually rewrite your brain. This was a very broken traveler, and Rita knew what that was like too well.

"Then we’ll deal with it together, Miss Jurot, now that we know what’s happening. I know this is awful. There's nothing we can do about the chunk of your life that's just gone, though I wish there were. What we can do is help you in the here and now. This is a warship... I'm afraid you're right there," Paris admitted regretfully. "But we have a lot of good people on this starship who go through an awful lot of bad experiences. Like you. And I can tell you from experience, they could really use someone to talk to. Somebody who cares, who can help them frame the experience and find coping mechanisms."

"It might not be the assignment you wanted nor asked for nor were given much of a choice. And the captain has said that you can transfer if you wish, and we'll happily deliver you as close to your destination as we can. But we're a bunch of travelers just like you. We've all lost something, we've all got just enough damage to make us interesting, and we all lead somewhat traumatic lives. We need you, Counselor." The woman was nothing but honest, forthright and earnest the entire time. She meant every word she said, and her intentions were pure. Her expressed regret matched true regret in her heart. She was, for lack of a better term, genuine.

Ensign Jurot looked at her superior officer. "It's nice to feel needed." She sighed. "I'm here- now- Commander. I can't go back. I can't get my time back. If the Hera needs me, then I will serve the Hera." She smirked for a moment. "I should look at the bright side- apparently I was awarded the D.O.G for Azyek VI." She tried to smile, but she felt it was half-hearted.

“We do need you, Avender. And I think you just might need us, too. We’ll do whatever we can to make you comfortable and help you settle in, and I swear we’ll do all we can to prevent you from ever experiencing that ever again. We have some very able doctors and scientists on this starship, and you are one of us, now. We protect our own… right?” Wrapping a shoulder hug around that of her shipmate, Paris knew it was a breach of professional etiquette. But she’d been there herself, and she surely would have appreciated a hug in such a moment. Sometimes a bit of... sentient contact was what was called for, and Ensign Jurot had been hit pretty hard by the universe on this one.

Ensign Avendar Jurot accepted the hug, and hugged Paris back. Even with her senses reduced, she felt the sincerity of her superior officer. She let her tears flow, and cried on Paris' shoulder- two women out of time. Fellow travelers in a strange and wonderful universe, aboard the USS Hera

Thex was happy with herself as she closed the door on her armours locker. That mission had gone fantastically well. Minimum casualties, damage and she didn't have much to patch up on her girl. Now she just had to get out of her... she had been to think before the universe decided otherwise.

=^= Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi, we have a bit of a situation on the planet that I'd like for you to take a look at. The scientists are arguing if it's a power conductor, a generator, a transducer or something beyond the ken of mortal men. I'd like an engineer's perspective, if you will. Could you beam down please? =^=

" On it, just give me a second." The andorian replied as she grabbed an engineering jumpsuit and pulled it on over her toga before grabbing a tool belt and kit. Within minutes, she was back on the planet ready to get to work. It didn't take her long before she found her friend. " So Rita what do you need me to take a look at?" She asked.

Turning to square off with the chief engineer, Rita started to say something, then thought better of it and apparently let it go. Turning toward the temple proper, Paris began leading the way. "Frankly, I have no idea. Let's classify this as 'alien technology so advanced as to appear to be magic' category. Whatever it is, we need to know whether it poses a danger to the citizenry. Might be some artifact that would enable a despot to rise, might be a flux capacitor, might be her sewage reclamator. So call the engineer."

Okay, so going to be a long day Thex thought to herself. Tech that resembled magic was something that was never covered at the Academy. " Well, lead on, commander... lets take a look at it and see if we can work out what's it's doing."

Moving through the temple throneroom into one of the antechambers, a wide stone staircase carved flawlessly out of the mountain itself led down a good forty meters, until it branched into three separate stairways. Choosing the southern stairs, Paris led the way down, passing distracted technicians and scientists, each accompanied by a Security officer who was keeping an eye on the surrounding environment for the researchers according to the first officer's orders. Passing them, the security officers offered nods to the XO and chief engineer- after all, even in work coveralls the petite Andorian was imminently recognizable, and though she had abandoned her power armor for her usual minidress uniform of a bygone age, Lieutenant Commander Paris cut an unmistakable figure that was instantly recognizable to the crew of the USS Hera.

Taking a landing along the way, Paris led the blue-skinned grease monkey through a well-maintained corridor intil they came upon a chanber that glowed from within with a bluish-white light. Half a dozen science officers and engineers were quietly debating just what function the device, which resembled an old cathode ray tube the size of Thex herself, with cables and conduits running to and fro. It pulsed with bluish-white light, thrumming at a cycle about once every three seconds, and as the command duo approached, conversation died down.

"Well this is something," Thex said as she had a look around the strange device before placed her bag down and began to pull out a large scanner as well as a portable shield generator. "Everyone want to stand back in case this thing has a booby trap?" She said as she activated the shield. The small crowd moved back a distance as she activated the industrial scanner. Given there was no big boom everything appeared to be going well. Thex's eyes were fixed on the screen as data began to come through. " Now this is very odd. It appears to be generating Koslayntine and Xubliyrium particles."

"For the sake of argument let's assume that the last science class that I took didn't cover those particles. What do those particles do, Commander?" the first officer asked. hell, she wasn't even positive if those particles had been discovered the last time she was in a science classroom. "If it'"s generating particles, what's powering it?

" A good question. Koslayntine has only been found briefly as a byproduct of the Dominion's warp drive systems, and Xubliyrium was an energy source the Romulans were working on, but they had to scrap it when the Dominion war broke out. " The andorin said, realizing her friend from another era wasn't quite as up to date as her. The andorian moved the scanner and tried to scan the what appeared to be a copper base it was sitting on. " Well, the bottom material is so dense the scanner not going through. I guess the bottom bit is a power generator that generating the particles, but what for." She said looking up at the tubes. " Any idea were these go?"

"We've been trying to figure it out, but the power conduits buried in the floor are shielded, ma'am. Engineering has been discussing ways to dig them up since our scans won't penetrate, but we're not sure what might happen if we expose the conduits," one of the science officers explained, illustrating some of the conflict the two teams had been encountering with one another.

"Good idea. We don't want to damage anything. Commander, you were here earlier. Any ideas on what it could be doing?" the andorian said as she pressed her head and antenna against the wall.

That earned the Andorian engineer an quizzical expression from the first officer. "Ah, I was upstairs fighting for my life, Lieutenant Commander. I didn't make it down this far until the investigation teams alerted me to the potential problem, and frankly, science isn't my specialty. Maybe you'd like to call the chief science officer-" Paris stopped what she was saying as the glowing 'bulb' intensified in brightness and started thrumming more audibly. "Who touched something? What did we do, people?"

"Ah, I was flooding the area with chroniton particles to see if they would interact with the object," one of the science officers admitted. "Since they tend to incite reactions with other particles, I wanted to see if they would excite or calm the Koslayntine particles, or interact with the free-floating Xubliyrium. It appears that it is making pairs with the Xubliyrium to form an all new particle... amazing!" They young science officer was clearly excited over his discovery, but the first officer was more concerned with initiating a reaction over which they had no understanding nor control.

"Well, knock it off," Paris ordered as the 'bulb' flared brighter and the thrumming increased. "I don't like the sound of that. People, get me some answers as to what's happening here..."

" Wait," Thex said as her antenna started picking up something. " It's caused a vibration that I can feel. it's heading in that direction." the andorian said as she looked down on of the corridors.

Pointing to an engineer and a scientist, Paris began issuing orders. "You and you, yes you, follow the direction the chief's indicating and see if you can pick up on what she's hearing. You," she indicated the science officer who had spomen earlier. "Chroniton particles, keep it up. It's getting results, so stay on it. The rest of you, let;s make sure we aren't starting a self-destruct mechanism for the planet, shall we? You write a report of what's going on, 25 words or less, and send it to the chief science officer." As for herself, Lieutenant Commander Paris debated reporting it in to the captain yet, but unless it was going to explode or fart rainbows, the captain would want to know when and if it developed into something.

Right now it was a glowy bulb.

Thex had pulled her head away from the wall and was thinking. What could Hera be doing with this? She was a godess of women, marriage, family, and childbirth yet none of this seemed to have anything to do with this.

As the andorian was wondering the answer a sound of moving stone began in the room. The centre began pulling back and lowering causing the starfleet personnel to hastily move back. After the creaking had ended the centre of the room had turned into a spiral staircase moving downwards.

"Well, it looks like we may have an answer and now another question." The andorian said to the startled group.

Tapping away at the PaDD at her side, the second in command tapped out a message to the captain of the Hera, informing her of the situation and sending along the relevant scans, files and imagery. Speaking without looking up as she filed the report, Paris prepared. "Get me two security officers with phasers in the lead, the commander and I will be next, and I want one science and and one engineering officers with us."

Swinging the slender black belt crisscrossing her body, Paris flipped the top on her old-school black and silver tricorder and turned on the flashlight function as she began tuning the tricorder's scans.

Thex had drawn her own scanner as the small party made their way down the stairs. They didn't go far before ending in a small chamber. Sitting on several pilths sat seven Pithos. Each was a diffrent colour with a wax seal covering the top. " Well what has she been hiding down here?" Thex said as she bagn scannign the jars.

"I don't know, but I don't like it. Nobody touch anything and nobody open anything- scans only, people, and stay alert," Paris ordered, uncomfortable at the fact that this looked an awful lot like burial rituals from ancient earth history- sinister burial rituals.

Thex had been scanning the storage jars and was even more puzzled by what was inside. The jar she was scanning appeared to contain a broken human breastplate, greaves and helmet. Scanning the others she quickly detected that they contained a broken staff, shield, bow, spear, trident and most peculiar of all what appeared to be a solid gold apple.

"Well, this is odd," the andorian said as she looked at her scanner. "The energy from upstairs appears to be being channeled into each of these jars and the items inside them."

“Upload the scans to the science department, please,” Paris muttered as she sent an update to the Captain. Out of her depth dealing with mythology which might as well be advanced technology, there was no rush. “Nothing is currently in danger of blowing up, is it? We’re not reading feedback surges or anything of the like, and the power flow appears to be stable?”

While she might be clueless, Paris was always good for asking questions.

"All energy levels are normal. Besides, no explosives are detected. I guess these are weapons or relics of her people. Probably broken or damaged and she doesn't know how to fix them." Thex said as she continued to scan the items. What she'd give to be able to have a look at some of these.

"All right, I think we've got some engineering. Science officer, front and center!" Paris barked, and the blue-collared scientist hustled over.

"Yes ma'am? Commander? Lieutenant?" It was clear that the man was spooked being in the bowels of a temple amongst a collection of ancient reliquaries being fed power by an alien thingamabob upstairs, then being called on the carpet by the full-figured first officer.

"Ensign...?" Paris leaned in with upraised eyebrows.

"Yes, ah, yes, Lieutenant Commander...?" the scientist replied meekly.

Those eyebrows dropped and the pretty pilot's expression settled into a disgruntled look. "Your name, Ensign. I was asking your name."

"Jones, ma'am," The ensign blurted out. "Ensign Ezekial Jones."

"Thank you, Ensign Ezekial Jones," Paris' face had settled into one of patient calm. "Please tell me that according to the science department's dictates, you've brushed up on your classical mythology, and that with the help of your shipmate Ensign..." Paris pointed at the engineering ensign, who had been watching the entire exchange, and was ready when his cue came.

"Ensign Smith, ma'am"

"You and Ensign Smith have by this point formed some sort of feasible hypothesis for just what we're seeing down here, have you not?" Of course, Paris strongly suspected they had not, but wanted to see them think on their feet. It was a desirable trait in a Starfleet officer.

"I... uh, we were... uhm, I need to check my readings..." Jones mumbled.

"Go do that. I'll check in with you again in one minute," Paris offered a mildly disapproving half-cocked eyebrow and pursed lips, then turned to her own tricorder.

"I need a why, Ms. sh'Zoarhi. Why is she keeping these down here, what do they do and how can we determine those answers. Can these objects be safely handled, are they artifacts of the Merosians which should be turned over to them, are the cosmically powerful artifacts that might change the course of destiny for the universe? And is there a scan setting for this.... I really should take a class on the modern tricorder..." Paris muttered at the end as the complexities of the datastream she was seeing was well beyond her education to interpret it.

"I think I may have something. Can I see your tricorder? " The andorian asked politely. Paris handed it over with no fanfare, assuming that the engineer would have no trouble because of the unique casing.

"There, that's it," Thex said with a grin on her face. "The particles that are being produced are being fed into the storage jars. Most likely to power some sought of nanobots. It looks like these things are being repaired."

“That makes sense- these are probably weapons of legend or somesuch. Plus that, of course,” Rita chucked a thumb at the jar containing the golden apple, which she knew all too well from mythology. “Any sort of timeline for reconstruction at current rates, Lieutenant Commander?”

"Hard to tell. A few months to a few years is my best guess. They don't appear to be working properly. I guess Hera doesn't know her tech very well," Thex said sending the scanners recordings to ship.

“Or she was feeding them power as she saw fit and this is just the backup auxilliary. Can you fix it? Do we want to fix it?” Paris considered- if they were in a battle with the gods, weaponry of that milieu might be handy, but she had an innate distrust of Hera and anything she left laying about.

"I think I could fix them. Though probably not here. I'd like to be in my workshop on the ship." The andorian replied as she gave the items another scan.

“And that’s my cue,” Paris tapped her left breast. “Lieutenant Commander Paris to Captain Telvan, do you copy?”

The captain replied with no delay, though there was some minor fuzz on the comm. "Telvan here, go ahead."

“We have a number of artifacts recovered down here. Our chief engineer thinks that the system we have been monitoring is actually a repair system for some of these broken artifacts. You have the scans and all the data in the report. At this point Ms. sh’Zoarhi wishes to relocate the artifacts to the Hera for more study and possible repair. Your orders, ma’am?” While she would take independent action with no hesitation, this was one of those decisions that definitely required command approval.

"I'm looking over the scans now. The computer suggests that at least three of them are indeed mythological artifacts. If you believe it safe enough... Engineering lab..." Enalia paused for a moment as she checked the status of the labs. "Engineering lab four is now ready to receive a direct transport."

“Chief sh’Zoarhi, you heard the Captain. If you believe it is safe enough, we have clearance for site to site beaming. Would you like to disconnect them from the power feeds first to see what sort of reaction occurs?” While she was a far cry from a scientist of any caliber, Rita did spend a lot of time with one, and after all these years more than a little of Sonak had rubbed off on her. And part of that involved controlled testing to determine potentialities of the action, provided that time was not of the essence and care could be taken. Which was most certainly the case in this instance.

"I'll shut down the power source first of all. Then we'll start moving them up to the ship. Give me a few minutes so we can purge the upstairs area of particles. " The andorian replied.

“All right gentleman, you heard the chief. What sort of particles is she wanting to purge, Science?” Paris called out, making the mission into a pop-quiz exercise for the crew.

"The chronitons? " suggested one of the science team.

“Interesting answer. Engineering, how is she going to safely disconnect these artifacts from the power supply upstairs?” They wouldn’t always learn by watching the senior officers do all of the work, after all, so Rita wanted the two junior officers involved as well.

"We could flood the area with Nuflalt- that should shut down the power supply," Replied a rather timid human.

"Another intriguing answer," Pris half-turned back to the Andorian engineer. "Chief sh'Zoarhi, how'd they do?"

"Very good, commander. I can oversee this if you need to be elsewhere. " The andoran replied with a slight grin on her face. She would enjoy taking a look at this stuff.

There was an intuition borne to Rita Paris that had served her well her entire career. Sometimes it was a voice of common sense, sometimes one of daring, and sometimes one of insight. It spoke to her in feelings, hunches, choices that came to mind, and the occasional bit of whimsy. That little voice in her head that wasn't Sonak, that she listened to quite faithfully.

It told her to stick around, because these things were trouble.

"Not at all, Commander," Paris smiled. "This seems to be turning into a training exercise, so I think I'll stay to supervise and insure these are all safely onboarded and accounted."

The andorian nodded as she got to work yelling orders and making sure the team knew what they were doing. She was actually surprised at how well things went and before long they were ready to began the transport.

"Here goes nothing..." Thex said as she gave the signal to begin the transport. The first jar began to move and soon vanished from it pillar.

=^= Engineering Lab 4 to Commander Thex- we've got it. =^= came the reply.

Offering a thumbs-up, Paris tapped her commbadge, making her bountiful bustline bobble a bit. "You heard the lady. Test successful, transporter rooms 1 through 3, begin site to site beaming to Engineering Lab 4." At that, Rita began to ascend the spiral staircase. "I think you can take it from here, Chief. I'll skip all the transporter activity if it's all the same to you. Joint science/engineering project to analyze the finds? Smith, Jones, you two report to the Captain's yeoman with daily reports, but you two are the leads on this. The Chief may be hands on, in which case you assist and suggest possibilities. Understood?"

The entire time she'd been speaking, Paris was walking up that spiral staircase, up a cylindrical and smooth hole in the mountain, which had excellent acoustics. She couldn't hear the answers from below, but the first officer was confident those orders would be carried out by the crew of the USS Hera.

The lost colonies had returned home, to find the planet of their origin changed greatly in the generations they had been cut off. Now an agrarian bronze age culture, it had problems. There were still around 90 Amazons about, armed and armored. They had taken to the mountains to regroup and plan. Advanced scans watched their patterns then coordinated with medical to strategically transport knockout gas bombs that the Amazon's armors didn't help them resist in the least. The Amazons were captured bloodlessly, stripped of their arms and armor, and turned over to the temporary governing body.

Negotiations had broken down when the men wanted a vote, and the women weren't terribly fond of the idea. It was only at the lost colony's insistence that a man have a seat on their burgeoning council that it was settled peacefully.

The minotaurs scattered, spreading out across the world to secrete themselves and wait for the return of their goddess. Bored, many of them would dig labyrinths that would remain long after they were legend.

The science team had some work to do with the statues and transformed individuals. Studying the living marble people's eyebeams, after some work, several technological marvels were discovered in Hera's inner sanctum that seemed to make not only polymorphism possible, but the reverse possible, due to the traces of original DNA inside the people themselves. The petrified stone people were a bit more difficult to handle, but with some work and reverse psychology and re-engineering with the original marble people, it had been possible to transform a few people from stone back into flesh and blood.

The Diplomatic Corps has taken over with the arrival of the USS Forthright, yet another Oberth class ship rebuilt for the modern era. Captain Josie Galsha has delivered a small detachment of scientists and diplomats to oversee the final cleanup efforts, recover the Starfleet personnel that survived, and aid the Merosians in rebuilding their homeworld.

The outer colonies shared some holovids with us of what their world used to look like. The southern continent was always poor and favored the old ways, which is why Hera chose to settle there. That and her temple was there. As for the now barren two northern continents... They were once covered in cities that put the ones on Earth, Trill, and most other Federation worlds to shame, with sweeping farmland and beautiful countryside between them. It was a utopia.

Hera wiped it all out in three days on her own. Those that could, escaped to the colonies or to the southern continent. She had then proceeded to beat the rest of the planet back to the bronze age over the course of a generation, and breed monstrosities from the population.

The Merosians already have terraforming operations underway to reseed life in the northern continents, and things already look promising. Within a few years they should have a semblance of a civilization returning to their home soils.

For all the blood that was spilled, we reunited a people and removed a tyrant. Hera committed mass genocide and our actions were necessary in the end, but I have to wonder about something. Every tyrant feels justified in their actions, and she coherently gave very plausible justification, though did not lay out her plans very clearly. She's mentioned that the Titans are returning and named three of them specifically. Were her actions a means to the defeat of them? Having defeated her, we'll now have to take responsibility for that burden; but this then raises another question.

What will we have to sacrifice to defeat these Titans?

As we depart the Meroset system, we do so with more questions than answers discovered. But we will continue to seek those answers amongst the stars.

HERA
From Fedepedia, the United federation of Planets database.

Hera (/?h?r?, ?h??r?/; Greek: ???, H?r?; ???, H?r? in Ionic and Homeric Greek) is the goddess of women, marriage, family, and childbirth in ancient Greek religion and myth, one of the Twelve Olympians and the sister-wife of Zeus. She is the daughter of the Titans Cronus and Rhea. Hera rules over Mount Olympus as queen of the gods. A matronly figure, Hera served as both the patroness and protectress of married women, presiding over weddings and blessing marital unions. One of Hera's defining characteristics is her jealous and vengeful nature against Zeus' numerous lovers and illegitimate offspring, as well as the mortals who cross her.

Hera is commonly seen with the animals she considers sacred including the cow, lion and the peacock. Portrayed as majestic and solemn, often enthroned, and crowned with the polos (a high cylindrical crown worn by several of the Great Goddesses), Hera may hold a pomegranate in her hand, emblem of fertile blood and death and a substitute for the narcotic capsule of the opium poppy.


So that was the datadump on the woman… goddess… powerful cosmic entity that was currently being held in one of the VIP suites that had been modified to contain her. With two no-nonsense Security officers at the door, Paris was satisfied that sufficient precautions were being taken, in addition to the displacement field which the Captain had insisted on employing as an additional safety barrier for this interview.

Someone had to debrief Hera. It stood to reason to Rita that it might as well be the one she would be the most angry with, the one who had argued most vociferously to save her, the mortal whom had crossed her. None other than one Rita Paris, time-traveling transporter-phobic idealist of another age who would likely regret her altruism. But she just had to take a chance on saving the starship’s namesake. The woman was thousands of years old, and despite her bloody campaign across the stars, for some reason Rita was determined to see if she could be turned to the side of the angels.

Which had sounded a lot better when she was squaring off against the woman wearing power armor and carrying a rather unbelievably dangerous weapon. Now in the familiar halls of the Starship USS Hera, clad in her minidress uniform and armed with a PaDD, the concept of facing the angry goddess was considerably more daunting. But this was a situation Rita Paris had caused to come about quite deliberately through her choices and actions, and she could not in good conscience shirk her duty and send someone else to face the wrath. Taking a deep breath as she stood before the door, Paris spoke to the overhead.

“Computer, please unseal VIP quarters 11, authorization Paris, R, L-T-C-D-R, 8675309." As the doors obeyed, Paris continued the order. “Seal this hatch behind me and open only on my or Captain Telvan’s authorization, including a random security question from my file. Confirmed?”

=^= Confirmed, Commander =^= the computer replied.

Setting her shoulders and picking up her chin, Paris stepped in for an audience with the vanquished goddess.

Hera, for her part, was doing her best to enjoy what the replicator had to offer and had an array of food and drink out on the table from various worlds. Looking up at the intrusion, she glared at the woman, instantly recognizing her even without the armor suit and returned to poking some sort of Bolian finger sandwiches. "I see you're armed for a different sort of battle today."

In the battle Rita had left her helmet down, so that her human features could be seen and reasoned with, thus she was unsurprised that the defeated goddess recognized her. Besides, armored avenger or not, Rita tended to be memorable, and Hera had a memory that spanned centuries. And held grudges that long, which would likely be a hurdle to overcome today.

“I come in peace,” Paris offered, which was neither sarcastic nor was it meant to be inflammatory. “Not for battle. While any interaction can be seen as potentially thanotic and destructive, a meeting of cultures can also be creative and mutually beneficial. Of course, that choice rests entirely with you, Hera. As I mentioned when last we met, I’m Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, of the starship USS Hera. I’m here to debrief you and discuss the possibilities of what happens to you next.”

Hera flashed a smile and raised a glass of red synthahol towards Rita before downing the remains. "Well I'm not dead and you're here with a symbolic laurel. Not only that, but you gave the Merosians their planet back. You have shown strength and mercy, yet others started with wreaths of holly and hollow words. I will parley with you and your captain, but not with your... Federation. They have proven to be spineless senators."

While Rita wasn’t entirely comfortable with the situation- after all, she hadn’t wanted to use violence, but the Commodore and the Captain had been the ones who had known better, which really meant that Rita was only following orders. But she hadn’t killed Hera, though she’d had her dead to rights and certainly would have been justified. Instinct told her to start with the details, so she brought it up, assuming it would be dismissed.

“So let’s start with Meroset. Why that planet? Why did you choose to transform their society? How did you bring your troops to bear on the planet?” They were all questions that were likely answered by a Starfleet Intel report somewhere, but they got the ball rolling.

Hera shrugged and picked up a small fruit, popped it into her mouth, and chewed thoughtfully before answering. "Before your planet, I called Meroset home. About a hundred years ago, I simply went back and restored what was mine. They had made some interesting things in the seven thousand years since, but my temple was still standing and the southern continent was still very poor, so I took over. When the more advanced northern continent tried to resist... Something about logic and science... I showed them how to terraform by turning their lands to ash and sand over the course of three days."

The casual cruelty the woman displayed was either for shock value, or a display of the fact that she genuinely possessed no compassion whatsoever. Whichever it was, she was rewarded with the expression on the first officer’s face, which reflected her reaction to the sheer monstrous nature of the deed. Struggling internally, Paris managed to reign it back to just a disapproving expression. “I see. And the harpies, statues and minotaurs?”

"I bred them using the Merosians. The marble people were tricky, mind you... But much easier than trying to get Medusa to reproduce. Even of you put a sack over her head, eventually a snake gets out and bites someone or something or the babies get loose... Total disaster..." Hera feigned disinterest as she spoke of breeding mythological monstrosities while poking at the table of assorted foods and pretending she didn't enjoy the rise she got out of Rita. "The Amazonians are just drawn to me naturally, like fanatics, so I just told them where I'd go and they met me there themselves."

"So let's talk about that. You bred them. So are we to assume you transformed a limited number of the locals, then just put on some romantic music and let nature take it's course?" Rita had an idea of what she was doing... maybe. But she felt like she had an idea, and for her that usually led to a plan. "Here's your big chance to brag, terraforming queen. The Merosians are going to eradicate any hint of you from their culture within two generations, and Earth's legends of you are clearly inaccurate. So if you want to shock and horrify all of Zeus' illegitimate offspring across the universe, all the races he dallied with other than you... now's your chance to brag about just how amazingly clever and powerful you are."

Hera raised an eyebrow in response and glanced over at Rita. "Are you going to stand there all day, or are you going to join me?" Sighing heavily, she resumed poking at her food. "But to answer your question, I chose married couples that loved each other deeply. It was their matrimonious love that gave rise to my forces. I simply strengthened that bond and gave them stronger children than they could have imagined. Some were proud, some were horrified... I think most were fascinated on an intellectual level at least to some degree. I think most of my people would agree with the outcome, if not the means. What do you think? If you and your husband had a child that was... Let's say... One quarter Vulcan, one quarter human, and half Ambrosian... Would you still love them? Even if they could throw lightning from their fingertips?"

"That's a very long term plan to breed an army. And it didn't explain how you did it, either. You harnessed the emotional energy of their bond and weaponized it to genetically manipulate the offspring of the locals? C'mon, big shot. We're all like ants to you, so lay out the science, dazzle the cavewoman. How did you do it?" Rita kept the conversation focused. Truth be told, she wanted to know, and this was a golden opportunity to learn something about the beings troubling the universe once more.

Hera shrugged and leaned back in her chair. "You start by harnessing the local psionic energies in the area and you channel it into your hyperbolic torsion matrix you're born with and reshape those energies into a three five six pattern based on your desired animalistic features. Then it's a simple matter of pouring that energy into the host and initiating a trans-quantum flux inside of them to initiate the transformation to your desired outcome. It's elementary power usage for us, my dear. We just need our power supply and enough nearby psionic energy and it's as easy as mating is to your kind. My unique specialties did aid me greatly in this endeavor though. Without them, I would have had to take a far different approach."

"Well, that's certainly a twisted take on 'patroness and protectress of married women'. Monster babies. Nice," Paris muttered as she consulted her notes. "All right, let's talk some more about your little speech in your throneroom. 'There is a far greater threat that lurks on the horizon. Those that gave birth to my people are coming back. I see now that they are behind our return as well as other disturbances I've sensed.' Care to elaborate on that?" Commenting on the immorality of an action wouldn't be part of one of these discussions, but Hera seemed to be getting off on Rita's disapproval, which she suspected would lead to an overabundance of arrogance. Playing her cards, Rita walked through the motions to see how this would play out.

Hera stared at Rita, sizing her up like you would judge a rabbit at a county fair before replying. "You seem competent enough to make hard choices. You're aware that the primordial oceans of most worlds were seeded with life by the Preservers, I assume. My people guided many of those cultures that sprang forth. Their first creations though... They were a bit of a disaster. They gave them the power to terraform whole worlds and even suns with a single motion. If you think my actions are wanton and careless... Gaia is but one slumbering Titan that I have sensed the attentions of, and she is in the mind of that woman you sent down to distract me. Indeed, this ship itself seems to have passed through the body of a Titan quite recently. It reeks of it immeasurably."

The dark matter ion storm? That was the body of a titan? Chalk that one up as another new experience, Rita thought as she sent a report on that to the science department to start analyzing the data with an eye toward what Hera was saying. For now, another concern came to mind. “You said ‘is in the mind’- so it is your belief that Ensign Jurot is still carrying some element of Gaia within her?”

=^=Doctor Dael to Lt. Commander Paris- Permission to enter and join you? Hera is due for a checkup if now is an acceptable time. =^=

The interruption was unwelcome, as was the doctor’s presence in this debriefing. The mild-mannered medic was someone Rita instinctively felt protective of, so exposing them to Hera’s acidic nature wasn’t high on their priority list. On the other hand, the young doctor was a Starfleet officer, and they had followed Rita through a war zone. They were neither weak nor were they a child, and Rita needed to accept that. Besides, she reasoned, it might be interesting to see how Hera reacted. It might be quite telling. Blue eyes flickering to the bored goddess, Paris tapped her comm badge. “Paris here. Now is as good a time as any, Doctor. Join me at your discretion.”

The door opened about a heartbeat behind Rita’s response. Doc Dael was armed with the tools of their trade, all packed neatly in their ever-present medbag. The doctor was standing rigidly, their spine straight and movement precise as they entered the room. Upon seeing Hera in repose, the doctor held back most of the disgust they felt for this being and kept their face purposefully blank. Upon making eye contact with Paris, their eyes brightened a bit, with the creases showing a smile for the XO that was otherwise kept off their face.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Feel free to continue your… conversation. I’ll just be conducting some brief medical checks,” Asa said, making eye contact with both women.

Hera smiled politely as the doctor entered. "We were just discussing the finer points of my reign and why I chose to use what you all seem to consider horrific methods." She then pointed out a vein on her left arm. "If you need a blood sample, my normal physician usually aims for right about here. By his standards, I'm sure you'd be considered a witch doctor beating a drum around a fire... But I'd like to reassure you that I have full faith in your medical knowledge. I've seen some amazing things come from cultures similar to your own that have advanced even my own."

Asa immediately decided to play along, adapting the role of flattered rube. Better to placate this madwoman than exacerbate an already tense situation. "Well thank you miss. I'll do my best to keep the drum beating to a minimum." With that, Asa inserted a hypo into the indicated vein- well, almost into the vein. They purposefully narrowly missed Hera's vein, necessitating a second stick to reach her vein.

"Sorry about that!" the doctor said in their cheeriest voice, staring daggers at Hera's arm. "That just never happens. How embarrassing. So, the finer points of your rein, I'm sure that was an illuminating conversation. I'm curious, how are you feeling after the major psychic blowback you experienced? Any headaches?" they inquired, tricorder whirring as Asa scanned Hera's head.

"I'll chalk that up to unfamiliarity with the finer points of my anatomy..." Hera mumbled, staring out the window and trying to ignore the slight. "As for my head, it's still buzzing terribly. Of course, if it weren't not only would I be able to think clearly but I might be able to soak up some sort of psionic energy around me and do something about my captivity. It's like having a burnt finger, I suppose. You know it's there, but it's all tingly and numb and you can't actually feel anything, even though you can still technically use it." Whether Hera was trying to be inadvertently helpful or talking down to Asa, she was still trying to get some semblance of quality medical care. She knew that the Federation treated prisoners in a very civilized manner at the very least.

"We were discussing Ensign Jurot, as I recall." Paris brought the conversation back to the point that she wasn't going to be distracted from pursuing. "How about we get back to the answer to that question, Hera? The part where you said there is some element of Gaia within Jurot? I'd like to hear more about that. I'll bet it's bad news, and you do love delivering bad news, doncha?"

"Actually, I enjoy being correct," Hera corrected somewhat haughtily. She certainly did her best to live up to the term 'Goddess'. "Your crew member was infested with a sliver of the Titan Gaia and I did my best to rid her of it. I can not make any guarantees as to whether I removed all of it or if she'll reclaim your crew member. If you notice any sudden changes in disposition or powers, I recommend isolating or disposing of the person immediately."

"Why 'disposing'?" Paris asked as she hit Fedepedia.

In Greek mythology, the Titans and Titanesses were members of the second generation of divine beings, descending from the primordial deities and preceding the Olympians. Based on Mount Othrys, the Titans most famously included the first twelve children of Gaia (Mother Earth) and Uranus (Father Sky). They ruled during the legendary Golden Age, and also comprised the first pantheon of Greek deities.

The first twelve Titans were the females Mnemosyne, Tethys, Theia, Phoebe, Rhea, and Themis and the males Oceanus, Hyperion, Coeus, Cronus, Crius, and Iapetus. They begat more Titans: Hyperion's children Helios, Selene, and Eos; Coeus' children Leto and Asteria; Iapetus' sons Atlas, Prometheus, Epimetheus, and Menoetius; Oceanus' daughter Metis; and Crius' sons Astraeus, Pallas, and Perses.

Just as Cronus overthrew his father Uranus, the Titans were overthrown by Cronus's children (Zeus, Hades, Poseidon, Hestia, Hera and Demeter), in the Titanomachy (or "War of the Titans"). The Greeks may have borrowed this mytheme from the Ancient Near East.

"Unless you want an agent of either Gaia, Primordius, or Uranus festering aboard your lovely and expertly named ship, you'll have to do something." Hera eyed Asa as the doctor scanned with what she could only identify as some sort of medieval scanning stick. "Is that radiating in the tertiary theta quantum bands? You know that's dangerous to your poly-dimens... Nevermind... You're the only one aboard that might live long enough to have to worry about that anyway."

“Tomorrow always holds concerns of its own, “Asa replied gently, mentally filing away the slip the goddess just made to look into with Sonak when time allowed. Sensing Rita’s urgency to get answers regarding the counselor’s condition, Asa tried to guide Hera back to the point at hand.

“So, why do you think Counselor Jurot was targeted, Hera? What is it about her that drew the Titan? And how do you keep yourself safe from such attacks? “ Dael quit scanning Hera with the tricorder in an attempt to assuage the addled goddess. After all, Rita’s questions took top priority, and Asa decided it was time to use a little bedside manner to see if they couldn’t help things move along.

The doctor touched Hera’s arm lightly, ostensibly to feel the strength of her pulse in her wrist (an entirely unnecessary action, but allowed for a reason to try some skin on skin soothing with the woman), and allowed their hand to rest lightly nearby when complete, where Hera could easily graze their hand if desired.

With their free hand, Asa reached over and plucked some grapes from a nearby table and popped a couple in their mouth. They inclined their head towards Hera, affecting the posture of a curious supplicant.

The impish El-Aurian's posturing was not lost on Hera and she instantly took to the flattery, smiling brightly and grazing the cheek of the doctor with one finger of her free hand. "Since you're so kind and curious, I have no choice but to answer, now do I? Jurot, was it? I sensed within her a great telepathic potential that Gaia was able to exploit for her own purposes. She likely used it to edit the minds of those around her and if she had stayed aboard your vessel for long, she probably did that to your shipmates over time to settle her way in. That sliver was nothing but a probe... The eyes and ears of Gaia so she could meddle in affairs and track us down, likely for revenge for killing them the first time. As for protecting yourselves, I'm sensing protections on this ship and crew already, so how she was taken is a bit bewildering to even me."

Sighing softly, Hera picked out a couple more grapes and popped one in her mouth to chew on before offering one to Asa. "Your replicators are quite good at recreating the grapes of Earth from when I was there. It only took a little tweaking to the current program. My compliments to your artificers."

The doctor was surprised at their ability to stop the instant recoil from Hera’s touch that they instinctively desired, but instead leaned in ever-so-slightly to the touch, keeping a placid smile on their face. They shyly accepted the grape from Hera,

“These are certainly delicious, I am grateful for your correction of our programming. Hera, I’m scared. My people have some dormant empathy and telepathy, and I have no desire to be a pawn of a Titan. What protections do we have? How were you able to cleanse our counselor? Is it something I could do for her in the future, to ensure she can remain herself? I only want to heal…and we could learn much from you, even work together to ensure we all remain ourselves. Please, will you help me?”

Every word of Asa’s statement was true, and heartfelt. The doctor realized in that moment they would put up with any amount of condescension and obtuse wordplay if it would help the crew. Jurot had saved their life, and they owed it to her to ensure she could stay free of any outside influence in her mind.

Hera smiled brightly and booped Asa on the nose. "You and your race have a special innate power that rarely awakens. You can sense when the universe is not right and move to set it right. It normally takes a severe shock like dying to awaken that power. Even the Continuum fears that power." Leaning in so that her face was mere millimeters from Asa's and her hot breath could be felt on the doctor's, she spoke huskily. "You have the potential, by merely existing, to be the very antithesis of all that is chaotic and wrong in existence itself." Leaning back, she no longer had a smug or haughty look, but one more serious and fitting of someone she might consider equal to her. "As for the protections on this ship, I recommend you consult with your Captain about the shroud that hangs on this ship. I suspect that she knows far more about it than I could tell you."

“Well, that’s, um, quite a lot to live up to isn’t it? And here I thought finishing puberty was hard….” The tiny immortal stammered. They were flushing brightly, ears to toes, at the unexpected attentions of Hera. So much of their people’s heritage had been lost of forgotten, and the little Asa knew was proving to be erroneous. Mom and Dad had clearly left a few things out…..

Ever the nervous being, the young doctor reached across the table for what looked to be a plate of cheese and crackers and began nibbling on them. Since waking up in Sickbay after surgery, they had been positively famished, and found themself eating at every given opportunity. Realizing the faux pas, the doctor glanced at Hera tentatively and said, “Um, sorry about that. Hope you don’t mind? I’m just so hungry lately. Maybe it’s an invisible tapeworm or something, haha.”

The forced laugh was a bit mirthless and forced, but now was not the time to freak out. “We can certainly talk to the Captain about the shrouds. Hera, do you know why the Titans are awakening? What would they want?”

"Please, help yourself. Your impish energies have been completely diminished. You really need a baiser... But I doubt you'll get that..." Hera giggled knowingly as she motioned to the table of food. "As for the Titans, I know Gaia and Uranus are reawakening. I'm pretty sure Primordius is on the way back as well. As for why... I've been able to trace the source to near the center of the galaxy, but beyond that, even I'm at a loss. What they want is likely the same thing as always - to recreate everything in their images."

“If only I could process energy as you do, Hera,” the doctor replied, looking forlornly as the gloating goddess. “Then I would not be so hungry all the time. Why, surely you and the other Olympians could defeat the Titans together. You can summon forth matter and coalesce it as you chose, you can influence genetics with a thought. If a mortal were to try such a feat, why, they would surely explode. How do you manage to balance such incredible energies in your body?”

A doctor’s curiosity was evident now. Asa was determined to gain some benefit from this being, and to stop future experiments from Section 31 being necessary if at all possible. There was no reason Hera and the crew could not find a reason to work together to defeat a common enemy, and learn from one another in the exchange. Now, if only Asa knew what they could teach Hera….

Hera was definitely not immune to flattery, as she looked rather pleased and embarrassed. "Well... I can't say all of that is true... In fact, in a few hundred years or so, you might figure out ways of doing most of it yourself. Instead of using energy in this universe, your ships and replicators may some day pull from the same place ours do. Your transporters may be able to transpose genetics like I do internally. Your medical instruments as effective as our healers. Your Federation has great potential for such things if they apply themselves to the higher dimensions. As for defeating the Titans... I'm not sure all of Olympus could best them this time. We don't have the followers, you see. In fact, I myself have not had a proper offering since I left Earth..." Something akin to longing crossed Hera's face as she once again glanced out the windows into space. She may be immortal, but she was still a woman of emotions.

Asa was not sure they wanted to know what Hera considered a 'proper offering', but considering the power it would likely give the goddess, they were reasonably certain they didn’t want her to get it. However, the doctor was not without compassion, and hated to watch people suffer, even at their own hands.

“Well, I’m sure we have much to learn from you. These higher dimensions… are they similar to the Nexus my people were exposed to? I’m sure you can sense the energy on me, both my parents spent time inside it prior to my birth. If that is the type of energy needed to matter transmutation… would I be able to do it? I’m sure my abilities would be nothing compared to yours, but as a doctor, I would so love to be able to cure others with a touch. Perhaps then I could ease some of your suffering too…”

The doctor had lightly placed their hand atop Hera's over the course of speaking to her, and was leaning in, gazing directly into her eyes as a supplicant might.....or a deer might stare at oncoming headlights.

"I... Yes, those are similar energies, but not the ones needed. You need to..." Hera was actually blushing at this point before she realized something and stared deep into Asa's eyes, her own eyes wide. Hera reached up once more with her free hand and gingerly touched the El-Aurian's temple tenderly, a light tingle following it. For a moment, Asa could see what Hera saw - ribbons of energy weaving through everything, the static fields around the room, extra colors in space, the dull coloration inside the room, the impishly dancing fire in Asa's eyes, and a dark undercurrent running through everything.

Once it faded, Hera spoke again, somberly. "It seems your powers have been awoken quite recently. Did your battle in my temple take you that close to death? I may not be the best teacher, but I will teach you what I can in the time we have."

As for Rita Paris, she had stood off to the side and was content to let the Good Cop do their thing. It was getting them answers and making headway, and the scanners were watching the encounter very carefully. At the offer from Hera, Rita bristled despite herself. While she wouldn't want the El-Aurian doctor to be denied a part of their heritage, Rita had a very solid suspicion that nothing came from the goddess without a cost.

But Asa Dael was a Starfleet officer, and a good one. Paris kept her own counsel and remained silent, to see how this would play out.

Asa took in a quick breath, completely in awe of the beauty in the way of things as Hera saw them. The Universe was so full of… life! Energy everywhere, colors swirling, the life radiating from everyone in the room. It was how Asa always dreamt things could be…beautiful and full of promise.

When the tingling sensation had ebbed, they felt the loss keenly. How had this woman, their sworn enemy, become a mentor in the course of a quick meal? But they had to know more about this… whatever it was… growing inside them, and they were unlikely to find another tutor.

With a quiet voice, Asa replied, “I… I was injured by the explosion. It would not have been too serious if I had sought medical treatment immediately… but I knew I had 12 hours before it would be critical, and well, I could handle the pain, and others needed my help more urgently. So, I stayed behind and kept working to help who I could. I only made it back aboard in the knick of time, and even then I foolishly tried to wait to ensure those in Sickbay were tended to. The Doctor who worked on me was exceptional of course, no fault can be placed to him. I… I just pushed myself harder than I thought I was.”

The last of what Asa said was in a near whisper. They had known things were dire by the time they signaled down the EMH, but Hera’s question made them realize how close things had come. The doctor felt all color drain from their face, and suddenly they felt cold.

“Thank you for showing me that. It was… wonderful. I would love to learn what I can.”

"I fear I may have forced you to use the last of your psionic energies, my child. For that I apologize and insist you take mine, if you'll allow it." Hera spoke softly and sincerely, the cold settling into Asa obvious to her. "It would break my heart knowing that I was responsible for the near death of such a young immortal fey twice in one day."

"I think that's going to have to be a hard pass, Lieutenant," Paris said a bit sternly as she placed her firm hand on the physician's shoulder. "Step away, Doc."

Asa's head was swimming, confused. Luckily, their trust in Paris combined with a respect for command kicked in, and the doctor stood and walked with Rita, stumbling slightly.

"I think, I think maybe I should sit down.." they trailed off, and plopped down on a nearby settee. "Commander, could you please hand me my tricorder? I feel....woozy."

With an icy glare to the goddess, Paris handed Dael their tricorder then looked to the overhead. "Computer, please activate the emergency medical hologram."

As the holographic physician materialized, the first officer cut him off before he could utter his canned catchphrase. "Doctor, tend to the Doctor, please."

Interrupted in his catchphrase, the EMH stepped over to Asa and checked over their vitals with his own hands before taking the tricorder and looking it over.

Striding back over to the casual goddess, Rita Paris snarled. "I get that whole 'swear vengeance on mortals that cross you' bit. But you leave the crew alone. You want your revenge, I'm your gal. I led the revolt in the streets and took your surrender after you pulled all of your troops out of your temple. You leave the rest of the crew out of it, understand?"

Standing, Hera faced Rita defiantly - a far cry from the kindness she was showing Asa just a moment before. The air was almost electric as she spoke with authority, her voice taking on a hint of that booming quality she showed in her temple. "Yes, and as the victor, my life is yours. I thank you for the mercy you have shown and I believe I have been compliant. Have I tried to escape? Have I resisted? Have I refused to answer your questions? I offer my essence... My life force to them freely which would weaken me unto near death itself and you scorn me for it as you would a pit viper. You may not agree with my methods, but now that you know my reasons, do you still trust me so little, child?"

For the first thirteen years of her life, Rita Paris was quite seldom called by name. Once her mother died, that was all her father ever called her- child. Albert he addressed by name, of course. Seldom was the word spoken with kindness or in good cheer, but usually with that scornful edge to it, no matter the tone. That inherent condescension that implied the addressee's incompetence, condemning them for being inexperienced in life- a child.

In the tone the commanding woman spoke, Rita Paris recalled all of that, and she knew that the goddess had done so deliberately to make a point. Inhaling deeply, the first officer eyed the Olympian. "Trust is a two way street, and where there is no trust, there is no negotiation."

With that, she stepped aside. "Your call, Doc and Doctor."

"I perfectly agree," Hera replied, much calmer. She then awaited Asa's decision.

The EMH, for his part, did his best to determine what was wrong with Asa but was coming up empty. "Sodium-potassium gates are fine, but synaptic activity is decreasing. Synapses are all structurally sound. There's nothing physically wrong... Even Devidian drain has more signs than this. Their mental energy is just... Gone. Commander, if she can do something and is willing to help... In good faith... Then I recommend it if Asa agrees to it."

Doc Dael felt the amazing, impactful, wonderful life felt so sharply moments before slipping away. They knew there was no other choice, and what's more... they wanted to learn what Hera had to teach. They didn't trust her, not by a long shot, but the promise of knowledge... that siren song of possibility.

"Please, Hera, help?" they asked weakly, no longer able to move across the room to sit where they previously had.

"As you wish," replied Hera with a bow of her head. Stepping over to Asa, she helped the doctor to their feet and cupped their head with one hand, her other arm wrapped around Asa's waist. "With no malice or ill will, I freely give of myself to you this Baiser."

And with that, Hera pressed her lips to Asa's in a passionate kiss. They both lit up in a golden glow and sparks seemed to fly between them as Hera's remaining psionic energies drained into Asa.

"Hey! Isn't the whole reason you declared war on the universe because your husband does stuff like this?!?" Paris protested as energy coruscated about the room.

The EMH did his best to scan them with the tricorder, but had step back as part of his matrix started to destabilize.

Once it was done, it was Hera's turn to look drained as she fell to the floor, pale as death and starting to fade from existence.

Asa snapped up, full of vigor once more, but immediately concerned that they had caused yet another death. “No!” they yelled, rushing over to Hera’s fading form.

The doctor was still slightly off kilter and began to stumble when they stepped towards Hera, their tears flowing freely as they looked around the room and screamed to whomever might be listening, “Someone help! There has to be something we can do!”

The doctor was aghast to watch Hera fade. Death was always horrible, but this felt somehow more final. A dying body still had a chance to be revived, but a person who was just no longer there? There was nothing in their training to prepare them for that. Asa allowed the artificial gravity to take its toll and collapsed to the floor, openly weeping from the ordeal.

Hera smiled weakly and raised a translucent hand towards Asa. "It warms my heart to see you better, child. I'll be fine with some rest, so please dry your tears. Even if I faded from this plane, it is not the end for my kind."

“Aw, dammit…” Rita Paris muttered. Life in the future seemed delighted to make her compromise and change her mind. Sonak would likely say that was the very nature of life, to grow and evolve beyond our preconceived notions. In this particular case, she might have been content to let Hera fade away. But Rita had fought too hard to save the goddess who was the starship’s namesake, and if Hera killed herself saving Doc Dael it would scar the young immortal for life. Considering that life might go on a lot longer than Rita could imagine, she felt a considerable responsibility to not scar it early.

Hunkering down next to the fallen and fading immortal, Rita Paris sighed, suspecting that she would deeply regret this course of action. “Come on, Hera. Don’t give up on us yet, old gal. You may be a merry murderess and a manipulator and the whole of Starfleet may want you dead, but… I believe in you. So c’mon, stick around, Tinkerbell. I fought my ass off to keep you alive, and I’ll be damned if I let you kill yourself in your first debriefing in a few thousand years. You live for this stuff, so… c’mon. I have a little faith in you- not a lot, but a little.”

The goddess laying on the floor smiled up at the supercentenarian space explorer. "You have faith? In me?" Rita's words seemed to perk her up and return some solidity to her, giving the woman a small measure of strength back. "Thank you, my dear. You're very strong and beautiful, by the way. I see Freya's blessings in you."

”Ah... thanks. Well, don’t let it go to your head. You’re supposed to be this noble patroness and protectress of married women, so I’m really trying to overlook genetic manipulation for monster babies, crushing a planet’s infrastructure and enslaving the population to look on the nobler side. Helping Doc here does restore a little faith… I guess in a literal sense.” Internally, Rita kicked herself as an idiot, and she could just see herself standing a court-martial later trying to defend her actions. Thus she vocalized what she would say then as she knelt beside the fallen goddess now. “We’re Starfleet- we are defined by our compassion and the quality of our mercy, not killing off ancient beings of the cosmos when it isn’t necessary.”

Asa staggered to Hera's side, reaching for the fallen goddess' hand. "H-Hera...if you can stay, please do. I would like to learn from you, and even though I don't condone your past actions, I want to see you be part of our future. We can all learn and grow from past actions- no matter what they were- and build a better future for all life. Won't you try? Please?"

Their tears were still falling, eyes wide and mournful. The doctor would not say they 'believed' in Hera- faith was not something they were prone to in a religious sense- but they trusted in the innate goodness that had made Hera who she once was, and hoped it was still there.

"I'll do my best for you, young one. I swear to you I'll do better, for your sake and the galaxy's," replied the weakened goddess. "I doubt you have any, but if you have some real wine... Not replicated... A glass would help greatly."

Asa glanced at the EMH, "Do you have any more emergency supplies?" they asked.

“Eh, pretty sure I got some as a wedding gift, and given Sonak’s views on drinking it’s unlikely I’ll ever drink it,” Paris admitted, rising smoothly from the floor and turning to the holographic healer standing beside her. “Doctor, are you alright? Your… ah… digital parts all still intact?”

The EMH nodded pleasantly. "Yes, my matrix has stabilized, thankfully."

“Good to hear,” Paris patted the photonic physician’s shoulder fondly. “Please pop into my quarters and check the cabinet to the left of the sink, and you should find a few bottles of wine. Please pick one and bring it here, if you would be so kind. Thank you.”

With one more glance around, the EMH nodded before dissolving, presumably to reappear to Rita's quarters. It only took him a minute to return, though it was in the form of the door chime to Hera's quarters going off and the voice of the EMH coming though. "I've returned with a bottle, but these fine security personnel won't let me return. May I please come in?"

Picking Hera up- she was surprisingly lightweight at the moment- Paris was arranging her on a couch when the call came in. Tapping her left breast, the curvaceous commander called out. “Paris to security detail, VIP room 11- on my authority, please unseal the hatch and let the Doctor in. Good work, people.” Turning to greet the incoming delivery, Paris was unprepared for the random security question.

=^= Security authorization required to unseal hatch. What was your first pet's name? =^= the computer asked.

"Never had one," Paris answered curtly.

=^= Confirmed =^= the ship's computer offered as the door slid open, and Rita continued issuing orders. “Doc, how about you find us a corkscrew and a wine glass, please?”

Dael shook themselves off mentally, and rose to their feet. “Affirmative, ma’am.”

They made their way to the replicator and retrieved the desired items, returning swiftly to Hera’s side. As soon as Asa handed both off to Paris, their tricorder was in hand scanning their patient. Hera’s coloring was slightly off, still looking a bit wan, and her pulse was weak and thread. The doctor moved to ensure they could hold Hera’s head as she drank if needed.

“Doctor, thank you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t check on you sooner. Would you be kind enough to mind sickbay for me until I can return?” Asa asked their colleague, regretful of earlier oversight.

"Belay that order, Doctor," Paris declared as she worked the corkscrew like an expert. Before her life and career were on track, Rita had become acquainted with a great number of bottles of wine, and old skills returned easily. "I have a doctor in need of a doctor here. I need scans being performed by someone who can interpret them and, no offense Myx Dael, but you are neither objective nor uninvolved here." Popping the cork free, Rita poured out a half glass of the rich red wine and handed it off to the Greek goddess on the fainting couch.

Asa nodded in acquiescence, and attempted to move from their current position beside Hera. The universe seemed the thrum slightly, and it was as if their vision zoomed out and then back in again in rapid succession three times.

“You… may have a point there. Thank you ma’am, Doctor,” Asa said as they rested again, waiting to be cleared from the Doctor that they could resume regular motor functions.

As Hera gratefully accepted the glass of wine, she savored the scent before sipping the contents. "Oh my, that's the best wine I've had in over a thousand years. Are those Trill grapes?" The matronly goddess definitely seemed to be recovering as she savored every drop of wine.

The EMH was scanning both Asa and Hera in silence and frowning as he did so. Once he finished, he moved over to the miniskirt clad commander to confer with her. "My readings show that Asa is overflowing with mental energy now and that Hera is slowly recovering, but severely depleted. Other than that, I'll need tools and scanners that I don't think have been invented yet in the Federation to make any further diagnosis."

Hera raised her now empty glass to Rita. "Thank you, my dear, for this most delightful offering. I am now at your service."

Pouring another glass, Rita sighed. “We’ll see how that plays out. For now, I’ve no further questions, and you seem… stable... ish, and the ship’s surgeon no longer appears to be in imminent danger, so I think we’ll call this a day for today. Doctor?” Paris turned to the EMH, and patted him on the shoulder. “Good work. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mind staying online for the next 24, analyzing the data, seeing what you can make of it and coordinating with the science department to see if we can’t advance Federation diagnostics by a few years. You did good work today… thank you.”

"Yes, ma'am. I'll do my best as I'm programmed to." The EMH gave a bit of a salute with the tricorder before packing up Asa's medkit.

“Doc, I want you off duty for the rest of the day. Let the Doctor run some scans and you can work with him to analyze the data, but light duty until 07:00- that’s an order. Understood?” Paris fixed the young physician with a stern expression that made it abundantly clear that she would not be tolerating any argument.

Their head still reeling, Asa could think of nothing they wanted more at that moment than their bed, "Yes ma'am," was all they said.

“As for you, lady, let’s try to keep the shenanigans to a minimum. ‘They were touched by the divine’ is a little hard to explain in an official report, and I’ve already overextended my credit with the Captain and the Commodore in defying orders with you. So please, try to not give me cause to regret it?” the chagrin on Rita’s face was easy to see, as she was once again trying to adapt to footing that was shifting beneath her, and a situation she had lost control of despite her determination not to do precisely that.

"Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris, was it?" Hera asked, making sure to pronounce the name carefully, savoring another sip of her wine before continuing. "You have shown me mercy as a conqueror when you could have easily snuffed out my life force not once but twice. For this I owe you greatly. I would grant you any boon within my power."

"I'll be sure to bear that in mind," Rita replied with a dubious nod. Tapping away at her PaDD, she locked it out of the system, activated the internal memory and brought up the menu. "Surprising how much cinema has survived into the future. It seems data is never lost. Here are all of the films and entertainments the computer could come up with in which you or a number of your pantheon are depicted. These are the retelling of the Earth's myths that survived- this is how you are remembered. I mentioned earlier that they were a bit... erroneous." Tabbing the in-window preview, Rita started the trailer for Clash of the Titans.

"We should go, doctors," Paris made to shepherd the physicians out the door.

Doc Dael trailed shortly behind Paris, trying to keep pace, and said as they left, "Thank you, Hera. For my life and your sacrifice."

Hera didn't say anything as the woman, the androgyne and the construct departed. She had been willing to sacrifice everything, after all. Even start an unjust war with the rest of the galaxy on the very weak premise that they were descendants of Zeus's infidelities.

Picking up the bottle of wine that that holographic golem had brought, she looked over the label, reading it to herself. "Artan Family Vineyards... Blessed by a thousand years... Interesting... So there are still people that follow the old ways..."

Sam hated reports. All reports, his entire life through.

Being in Starfleet hadn't really changed that.

But delivering briefs to the Commodore wasn't bad at all, really. The towering Scotsman had a sense of humor almost as tall as he was.

But that accent, though...

It really made Sam wonder how the hell anyone could make sense of the the man.

The wiry man from the Show Me State went over his briefing notes one last time, before activating the heavily-encoded Intel comm channel. Everything looked to be in order, so he started the encryption handshaking protocols.

After a few moments, during which his biometrics were checked, and quantum signature comparisons were made, the holographic imaging systems synchronized, and Commodore Jackson Turnbull Raster appeared, sitting across the desk from the Gregarious Gambler, sipping a bubbling brown liquid out of a massive glass mug, with some sort of white blob floating on top of the concoction.

"Ah see yeh bagg'd n'tagged yon harrrigan, lad. Tell me th'storry, an' dinnae leave oot ennahthin'. Ah hae ah feelin' yeh saw sum serryuss shite, eh?"

Sam shook his head, suddenly feeling as though he were 11 years old, again.

"Aw, suh- thuh briefin' didn't do it all justice. This 'goddess' stormed in, demanded a whole planet drop everythin' an' wuhship huh, an' wiped out entyuh continents when they didn't jump fast enough. Then she stahted breedin' pepuhl, an' changin' theah babies inta monstuhs," the normally-collected spymaster reported to his mentor.

Clemens went into great detail on what he'd discovered about the power collection and transport system he'd discovered in the caverns, and how they'd wrecked it. The n-dimensional aspects were of great interest to the Scot Of Many Worlds, and he took great care to counsel his mentee and try to assuage his guilt over the loss of one of his team, and the severe injuries of others.

At the end of it all, Raster had one more piece of advice to give his man in the field:

"Samuel- ah knoo that 'Fleet taught us tae be th'shinin' light o'frreedom to th'galaxy at large, an' try tae rredeem enemies when 'tis possible. But 'tis imporrant tae unnerrstand- some arre irrreedeemable- an' 'tis those that rrequirre th'sacrrifice o'good men an' wimmin' tae stop. This thing is a galactic warr, an' stoppin' it soonerr, rratherr than laterr, is vitally-imporrtant. Just as imporrtant, howe'er, is that we may hae t'git in bed wi' snakes tae end this. Rrevenge is a luxurry we'll hae ta delay until afterr th'dust settles.

In th'end, we'rre all fictional, somewherre, somewhen. What's imporrtant is tae hold ourr Authorrs t'theirr prrinciples, an' make surre we make it a storry wirrth rreadin'."

As the channel closed, the USS Hera's Chief of Intel stared at the logo for a long time, contemplating.

When he'd finished his reverie, he set about preparing for the Luncheon Briefing. He'd decided a personal change of pace might help get everyone's mind off the terrible prices they'd each paid for the victory they'd achieved.

The invitation, sent across HERAnet was simple.

LTJG DOX LTJG DAEL You are invited to attend dinner with the Commanders. Dress code casual, bring a coffee or a dessert. This is a voluntary invitation, not an order. We're just inviting you over for dinner. Ravioli in marinara sauce with garlic bread and some synthesized red wine. Your medical records indicate no food allergies? 19:00 hours.

Asa tapped back in response, “No allergies, I look forward to it. I will be happy to bring coffee.” After the PaDD indicated the message was sent, Asa strode around their quarters, looking at their wardrobe. “Casual? Huh, um, not sure I know how to do that.”

Before getting dressed, the doctor set about preparing their favorite Earth blend of coffee. It was a mixture of Kona beans blended with hazelnuts and a hint of vanilla. After allowing it to brew slightly less time than normal (after all, it would need to keep for a bit, thereby increasing its strength), Asa transferred the beverage to a carrying container along with cream and a choice of sweeteners.

Now for the much dreaded portion of getting ready….clothes.

The young doctor had spent their childhood running around in whatever scraps were available from surrounding Bajoran settlements. Clothing had not been high on the list of things the cult their parents joined cared about, and Asa had a sneaking suspicion they did not really have a sense of style. After all, one of the great things about Starfleet was the uniform. It provided an easy way to know what to put on every day without looking like an utter fool.

The doctor thumbed through some images of their time on Earth, looking at the people in the background and scrutinizing for the first time the ways others dressed. Deciding to just replicate something instead of cobble together their pitiful wardrobe, Asa set about programming what they were looking for.

After retrieving the clothing from the replicator, the doctor dressed in brown, red, and black herringbone print pants made of a soft wool that had a wide leg and deep pockets, two of the things the doctor knew they valued. They opted for a simple black v neck t shirt top, not loose but not tight, and black slip on sandals. They grabbed the coffee serving dish and set off for the Commanders quarters.

In the turbolift on its way to deck 8, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox adjusted her top. It was a few minutes prior to nineteen hundred hours and she didn't want to be late regardless of this not being an official function.

In the short time since she had begun her service abord the massive Nebula Class Starship, this was the first time she had left her quarters in anything but her uniform, but the invitation mentioned casual dress, and as she was off duty she didn't want to come off as more uptight than she usually did. But tonight, Melanie wore a loose fitting dark turquoise blouse that bunched at the side with a slightly wide neck and a pair of black pants with wide bottomed legs. In her hand was a shallow ceramic container with a clear lid containing a dark brown pudding.

She had gotten off of duty only an hour and a half prior at the end of her first week as the new Chief of the Flight Control Officer and she felt like, with a few stumbles aside, that it was going moderately well. At least she hoped it was.

The turbolift dropped her off at the far end of the corridor of Deck 8, as was a habit for her. Dox tended to run anxious and liked to giver herself a little bit of a walk to vent that stress. But within a moment, she found herself standing outside of the door to the First Officer's quarters. Swallowing slightly, Melanie assured herself that there was no need to be anxious and pressed the pad outside the quarters, hearing the familiar chime of the door from within.

"Enter."

The voice was soft and deep, obviously that of the tall Vulcan that appeared behind the sliding door. Sonak was wearing a sand-colored poncho-like garment and tight leggins over matching soft boots. There were Vulcan sigils etched in gold from the closed collar in a straight line towards the hip-length hem of the flowing garment, under which he wore what appeared to be a white cuffed ample-sleeved shirt almost reminiscent of old Earth pirate shirts. but this was in truth a traditional formal Vulcan garb worn by kolinahr adepts on Vulcan, but it looked quite casual to offworlder's eyes.

"Welcome, Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox. Peace and long life to you. It is agreeable to have you accept our invitation."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Sonak. And to you as well." Dox replied with a slight nod, as her hands were still full carrying the requested dessert tray. But she was glad for the slight inconvenience as she was anxious as to whether it was appropriate or not for her to return the Vulcan greeting as she was taught as a child and having full hands removed some degree of options from her.

While on bridge duty, the Captain made a perfunctory introduction to the ships Science Officer but this was Melanie Dox's first real meeting and she was, as is standard operating procedure for the anxious young officer, nervous. But in this case, it was nerves born of her upbringing. Dox's mother was a half Romulan, but one that left her service on Romulus inspired by the calls of reunification begun there years prior. As such, Melanie was raised with a certain reverence of Vulcans and their culture.

Trying her level best to not let her anxiety be too obvious, Dox stepped into the room. "Where would be good to put this?" Dox asked, slightly raising the dish as she spoke.

"Allow me to provide assistance," Sonak replied, taking her burden away from her to put it on the table. "Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like some refreshement?"

"Uh... Please. Whatever is already prepared is fine, thank you." Dox replied.

Although he had been working with humans mostly and many other species during his decades as a Starfleet officer, the Vulcan was not much experienced in social events; even less one where he had to play host. On Vulcan, things were made very simple with time honored rituals no one had to think about. It became quite more complex when interspecies relations were concerned.

Now his only reference were Strafleet protocols and what he had observed from personal meetings with higher ranking officers; not quite adequate for such a socializing event as Rita expected this to be. Although it was impossible for the kolinarh master to feel nervous, he certainly didn't feel quite up to the challenge yet; but that is what made it a worthwhile challenge to begin with. And as he was fond of saying, in a crisis, each one answered according to one's gifts.

Thus he proceeded in the only way he knew; logically.

Shortly after Sonak began speaking with Dox, the chime rang on the door as Doc Dael stood outside, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.

Emerging from the bedroom, Rita made her way around the metal weave dividers placed creatively about the room that turned the spacious quarters she inhabited into more of an apartment by breaking up the space into ‘rooms’, as had her old quarters on the Exeter. Clad in an oversized baby blue t-shirt, surprisingly the same color as the science department, printed on the front was ‘Talos IV department of Tourism’, while below she wore some bright red short shorts that showed off her legs, and she was padding around her quarters barefoot. Calling out to the overhead, Paris requested, “Computer, please open the door.”

As the door to the quarters hissed open, Rita thanked the computer as she made her way to the kitchen she had set up, calling out “Come on in, Doc!”

At the sight of the ships Chief Medical Officer, Melanie Dox turned and smiled. It wasn't a forced smile like so many social functions she had dreaded in the past. She found she really liked her new crew and the doctors energy was something the usually reserved Melanie found infectious. "Evening, Doctor."

"Greetings Doctor," Sonak followed suite, coming back from the table. "Peace and long life to you. It is agreeable as well to have you accept our invitation."

This time, having learned from Dox' arrival, he took from them what they had brought to go back with it to the table and set it all there.

"Thanks, Lieutenant! Glad to be here. And hey, Miss Dox! Congrats on the promotion, that's really great! Commander Paris, excellent shirt!" the small individual was buzzing with happy energy to be surrounded by friends. They were happy to have found a place in the crew so soon, and relieved their 7-year stretch of being a near pariah seemed to be at an end.

"Uh, thanks." Melanie replied to the energetic doctor.

Doc Dael moved to sit next to Dox, bumping her shoulder amiably and asked, "Anything I can do to help?"

The quarters themselves, broken up into an apartment, had a few prints on the wall, including a photo of a handsome engineering lieutenant in a red shirt from back in Paris’ day, and an image of the USS Exeter in her original Constitution glory, prior to a refit. The space was broken up by metal mesh screens as movable dividers, and furnished with comfortable furniture that, combined with the screens, most definitely gave the quarters the feel of a starship quarters one might find in a museum, except ten times the size.

As Sonak showed the guests to the dining table, place settings were already in place, water glasses chilled and filled with water that literally glowed blue due to the exotic pitcher from which they had come. Meanwhile, in the adjoining kitchen, the feisty first officer was bustling about, stirring sauce, then sliding a tray of prepared bread slices into the oven before wiping her hands on a red and white checkered dishcloth.

“So thanks for coming and braving my cooking! I’m going to qualify up front, I am a navigator, not a chef, so don’t expect the moon here!” The smells wafting out of the kitchen belied the old-school officer’s objections, as it smelled pretty darned good. “Would anyone like a glass of wine? It’s synthehol, I assure you.”

Shuffling slightly in place, Dox was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable as the energy in the room rose, but was trying to keep focused and not let her anxiety get the better of her. She tended to view social situations as tests, and they were tests she felt she always failed at. As such, her throat was feeling a little dry and she was happy for the Commander's offer. "That..." Her first word was slightly hoarse, so she cleared her throat with a slightly nervous chuckle. "That sounds great, thank you."

"Never had it, sounds great!" chirped Asa.

Pouring two half glasses of robust red wine into glasses from a carafe with practiced ease, Paris half turned as Sonak came alongside her and smoothly took the glasses from her hand as if they had done this a thousand times. Bearing them to the table smoothly, the Vulcan scientist presented the drinks to the two junior officers.

“Dox, relax,” Paris called without looking up from where she was pouring ravioli into the boiling water. “We’re off duty and you can’t screw up. It’s dinner. Don’t eat with your feet and you are pretty much home free. No ranks, no judgment, just a little harmless social interaction and some ‘getting to know you’ time. Doc, how’s your spleen?”

"Well, it's still there, so that's good," Asa said with a chuckle. "No, the Doctor did an excellent job as always. He's- to use his own words- a great bloke. Counselor Jurot also helped with the surgery as it turns out. I owe her a debt of gratitude, I can't imagine she felt very comfortable digging around in someone else's innards. It's a bit of an acquired taste, truth be told."

As if realizing what they had just said, and in what environment, Asa shifted slightly in their seat. "Wellllllll that might not be normal dinner conversation for everyone else though, huh? I guess medical training kinda knocks the shyness right outta 'ya when talking about that kind of thing."

"We always welcome opportunities to learn more from you... and about you," Sonak assured Dael and Dox both. "It is indeed a great part of what this meeting is all about. So feel free to indulge in any subject you wish to discuss."

Taking a sip of their wine, Asa politely put the wine back on the table. Turned out red wine was not to their palate, but they didn't plan on saying anything.

"Where did you learn to cook, ma'am? It's a skill I'm lacking myself."

“Recipes,” Paris replied, sashaying in from the kitchen with a wineglass of her own in her hand. “Sonak observed that humans emotionally bond over food sharing, and it certainly is true. I started doing it when he and I started dating, because he was a bit of an orphan, and he wanted to learn about human culture."

"Which probably requires a bit of an explanation. But before I con my spouse into explaining the tragedy of other timelines- Doc, we’re off duty, I’d like to think we’re friends and we’re behind closed doors. Please, call me Rita. That goes for you too, Dox. I’d appreciate it if you would keep it professional out there on deck, but between us, we’re all senior staff and I’m just a person, flawed and… ah, fallible as any other. So no ma’am’s, just relax and feel free to be causal, okay?” Rita Paris flashed that winning million-watt smile of hers that brightened a room, inviting the two others to do the same. After all, they were, in fact, her own age physically, if not chronologically.

Meanwhile, Melanie sat quietly, nursing her wine and doing her best to keep up with the conversation, which by her personal standards, was somewhat brisk. But she knew she had been addressed and and didn't want to be rude, so she responded with a slightly more casual then normal, "I'm still working on that one." Followed by her trademark nervous chuckle.

"Which, I guess kills the point of my relaxing if I'm working on it." She thought out loud before taking another sip.

"We share the same predicament, you and I," told Sonak standing as rigid as any Vulcan would in any circumstance. "Perhaps this occasion will be an opportunity to help one another in that regard. With the help of our more... casual-experienced acquaintances, of course."

"I suppose so. Though I could certainly use a little logic to tell my brain I'm anxious for no real reason." Melanie responded with more frankness then she would have expected. "Or, more accurately since I obviously know it, to just let it get through for a change." She took a breath and set her drink down on the table beside her, having spied a coaster, and turned to Asa. "I'm really glad you're doing better, doctor. I was worried after I read all the department reports that were made available."

Asa had adopted a much less rigid posture since Rita had clarified it was ok to be just people behind closed doors. They appeared to have one leg at about a 45 degree angle away from the other and their arms were loose and gangly. The overall appearance was not entirely unlike a Great Dane puppy sitting at the table. All awkward and eager and smiling.

“Aw, thanks for asking, Dox. And please call me Asa, or Doc if you like. I seem to have overestimated my ability to bleed internally without being endangered. Stupid move on my part, but the EMH is a talented doctor, and he put me to rights. Counselor Jurot was also kind enough to assist, allowing the rest of the staff to focus on the crew. It was a bit closer call than is ideal, but hey, I’ll be right as rain in a few days. Speaking of, I am dying for a dip in a pool or waterfall or something. Anyone know any good holodeck programs for that?”

"Hmm... I have no idea." Dox thought for a moment. "I have a library of saved programs I brought with me, but they're pretty much all either flight simulators or starship exteriors."

“I, ah, that is… Thex, Lieutenant Commander sh’Zoahri, introduced me to the running trail at the Academy program. I ran cross-country at the Academy, so I have a lot of fond memories of that trail. Aaaaand I’ve never tried to look for any other programs,” Rita coughed, a bit embarrassed to admitting that she was woefully behind on the curve with the modern entertainments.

"I mostly WALK them just to relax... But..." Dox paused, a bit nervous about sharing something she was worried might come off as silly. "If you want to try them, I have over twenty programs where you could run on the exterior of a ship. I... It's something I started doing in the academy. I'm tweaking one for the Hera in my off time as the computer didn't get her pearlescence right." She paused to take a sip of her drink. "And I've programmed it to adjust the POV so you could move across any surface and the projection always keeps down under you're feet."

Imediately, Dox felt her face go flush as she started blushing, which for her gave her cheeks a tan shade due to her quarter-Romulan herritage. Her personal interests were something she didn't always feel comfortable talking about very often, but she wanted to really try and be more open on the Hera and so far, Rita and Asa seemed to sincerely want to make the anxious pilot feel welcome.

For her part, Rita’s face dropped. “I totally have done that!” Paris practically squealed. “I used to hang out on the hull all the time on the Constitution, because I could, and when we were first assigned to the Exeter she was in dock at Lexington station, but she was quarantined. So we were trying to manage the ship and crew when no one was allowed to go aboard, and so since she was there and I could, I ran the saucer section a few times before the Admiralty beamed me off for a meeting. So I would love to see those programs….” At that, Paris paused, then added somewhat hesitantly, “Melanie?”

"Oh, absolutely! I already have a Constitution and a Constitution Refit made. I think they would be ideal for your runs as the hulls were so much smoother. Less windows and... Stuff... all over." Melanie responded energetically as her face lit up, not even registering that Rita had used her first name for the first time until she stopped talking. But as soon as she finished and her brain caught up with her, she smiled broadly with her cheeks still blushing as she added with a slight nod, "Rita."

At the mention of running along the outside of the ship, Asa quirked an eyebrow and asked remarked to the table, “Ok, so all pilots are crazy. Duly noted.”

Unable to restrain herself, Melanie let out a snort at the doctor's comment. "Quite possibly, yeah." She chuckled out.

“It’s a thing… when I was little, my father drilled etiquette into me, and you never use someone’s first name until they give you permission. Which is why I offer mine, but writing a one-sided contract where I expect the other person to adhere to my internal rules is silly. So I tend to nudge the boundary. If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never called the captain by her first name, because she’s never given me permission to use it and I am too neurotic to ask,” Rita admitted before taking a gulp of wine, then smoothly pivoting to head back to the kitchenette. As she slid on an oven mitt, the oven timer went off and she opened the oven door to retrieve the garlic bread.

Doc Dael was sipping on their wine. After the initial shock, they decided it was a taste they could get used to, at least during social occasions. Although why anyone would prefer this to Horchata, or even better, fruit punch, was a mystery to the young person.

“We…..didn’t really do etiquette, truth be told. We all were expected to follow the leaders of our faith absolutely. Beyond that, it was pretty patriarchal. If you weren’t a man, well…..you weren’t really a person. The Bajoran’s I would sneak off to be around didn’t care about any of that. Honestly, there weren’t too many rules they cared about at all, in an easygoing kind of way,” Asa remarked. “But I do appreciate the honor to call you all by name. I understand the importance of chain of command and protocal to the fleet, so I tend to err on the side of caution. Honestly, I feel a bit odd calling our EMH by Doctor only. He’s such a vibrant person, but he will pick out a name when he’s ready. He’s the first holographic individual I’ve met before, so I’m still learning a bit about how to accommodate his personal goals.”

"I tend to lean on ranks not just because it's more respectful, obvoiusly in a chain of command way..." Dox took another sip, starting to talk more freely. "...but because I am seriously terrible with names. It took me 4 months to remember my roommates name in my first year at the academy. I made it the whole time never actually calling her ANYTHING just to play it safe." She laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "I have a PaDD in my quarters with pictures and names of everyone in the Flight Control department and I have been quizzing myself after hours now all week."

"Not a half bad idea, Melanie. And hey, we all have our own strengths and weaknesses. Nothing to be ashamed of there. Heck, I can't walk in a straight line without serious effort. It's like some days my legs don't know how long they are," Asa remarked.

Laughing out loud with a joyful tone, Melaine turned with a smile to Asa, kicking her legs back and forth as they hovered just slightly off the ground while she sat. "Mine don't know how SHORT they are. It's a good thing starships don't have pedals or my career path would have been dramatically different."

"Sonak, would you help me in the kitchen please?" Rita called uncharacteristically as she eyed the heavy steaming pot.

"Acknowledged."

The Vulcan did not show any strain or discomfort handling the hot pot even without kitchen mittens and bringing it where she indicated. 'Hot as Vulcan' was not just a mere joke within the Federation. Only Andoria, on the opposite end of the temperature scale, could boast a native sentient life form on a planet with such a harsh environment. His own body temperature was perceptibly higher than the human standard, and so he felt ambiant heat much less.

"That smells delicious." Melanie leaned slightly towards the Doctor. "It's... What again? Ravioli? I've..." Dox was slightly nervous again, a back and forth emotional rollercoaster she seemed to live on. "I've never actually had it and forgot to look up what it is in my quarters."

Sonak's sensitive ears picked up both her question and her emotional discomfort. As a good host, he did his best to answer both.

"That makes two of us, Lieutenant. They could be defined as small wheat-based pasta pouches filled with whatever mix of food with pasta sauce and spices; usually meats and vegetables. Since as a Vulcan I am vegetarian by choice, Rita has accomodated us with these distinctively colored pieces; greenish for me, reddish for you omnivorous table mates. But you may have your pick of both as you please."

"Thank you, Lieutenant Sonak." Dox responded with a bit of a bounce in her voice. "I'll have to try them both, I think."

As her shoulder was still not completely recovered from a harpy dragging her into the sky by it, Rita wasn't about to go picking up a hot heavy pan in front of the ship's surgeon who had warned her to take it easy. Besides, working in the kitchen with someone always made it better. Holding the strainer in front of the pot edge, Rita indicated that she wished it poured out, which her spouse obliged, and through teamwork they accomplished their goals with a minimum of stress or strain. Directing Sonak to set the bichambered pot down (as she did not mix vegetarian and non-vegetarian pastas) Rita began dishing out the pasta pockets into wide flat bowls.

“You kidding me? Pasta is the BEST!” Asa enthused. “One of my roommates at the Academy ate cans of the stuff though, and they always smelled a bit off. Fresh is definitely best. Thanks for cooking Rita!”

“Gotta say, I’m pretty much always starving the last couple of days, part of how El-Aurians heal I guess. No one ever really mentioned that bit of information growing up, and it looks like none of my forbears felt the need to share that with Starfleet either. I swear, sometimes the elders logic makes no sense. They are so secretive about everything, it serves no useful purpose,” in that moment Asa sounded a bit like a petulant teenager, but also like a frustrated physician, realizing they don’t even know how their own body works.

“Anyway, this smells great! What about you Melanie, you a meat or veggie lover?” the ever inquisitive El-Aurian asked.

"Meat, I guess." Dox answered a bit more reservedly. "I... Grew up..." Then the young pilot took a moment as the topic brought her back to her past, which was an uncomfortable subject. But she was determined to push past her anxieties. "I mostly grew up on protien rations and the few things a military surplus Romulan food replicator could manage." She fidgeted slightly with her mostly empty glass. "I went a little nuts once I was in the academy, but have a lot of catching up to do, regarding trying new things food wise."

Feeling a bit more confident once her answer was out there, Melanie perked a bit back up.

"Oh that's a fun problem to solve!" Asa gushed. "I am ALL about trying new and creative things, as long as I don't have to cook them. Should probably start more basic there. OK, so what's everyone's favorite type of food then? Breakfast? Dinner? Secretly eating at midnight and hiding from your roommate while you steal their snacks?"

Sonak took a moment to think before responding in his usual deadpan tone.

"I do not have any preference, beyond what Rita my mate works so generously to provide. Logic defines eating as an integral part of life itself. therefore, if we look at life as a journey, each step is significant. Each type of meal is a life experience onto itself, each type of food a discovery and a moment to be... savored."

Sitting back in her chair, Melanie had a long and thoughtful smile on her face. "Wow. There's a certain... Poetry to that, Lieutenant. A thought applicable to more than just food, for sure." Then she sniffed the wafting smells of the meal. "But particularly relevant here and now. That smells amazing."

“Dox, you can try both, since I made plenty,” Rita interjected from the kitchen as she ladled marinara sauce she had made from replicated materials onto a second dish, which Sonak then delivered to the table. It was a break from their usual tradition of him setting and her cooking, but the pair were nothing if not adaptable. As evidenced by the fact that they were from neither this time nor reality, yet had made a home on the starship Hera.

"Thank you. I plan to." Dox replied enthusiastically. She then reached over to refill her glass in preparation for the meal.

"Have you ever watched pasta being made? Like the noodles themself from scratch? That's dang near hypnotic," Asa remarked, "Rita, do you make bread? I've always wanted to learn to do that...it seems like the perfect marriage of art and science. The science of getting the right rise out of yeast, but still the art of getting the right mixture of ingredients to taste right."

“I can, but seldom do,” Rita responded as she came out of the kitchen with the other two plates, serving herself and Sonak before scooting back to the kitchen to return with the piled heap of garlic bread. “Sonak often points out that my insisting on replicating the materials and putting it together myself is unnecessary, but I enjoy the ritual and the process. It’s soothing to me, and I enjoy feeding people a dish I made, rather than replicated. Well, I replicate the ingredients, and I don’t go so far as to make my own pasta… I tend to have a limited window for this sort of thing, and I can’t usually budget that sort of time.”

Settling in at her seat, Paris finished her explanation. “It tastes the same as replicated, it’s true, but I enjoy providing. So, how about a toast?”

"Sounds great! What shall we toast to?" Doc Dael inquired.

Glancing back across the table, Melanie held her glass at the ready, hoping that Rita wouldn't defer to her all the while running through possible toasts just in case.

Without skipping a beat, Rita Paris raised her glass. "To Starfleet. Bringing alien cultures together to share with one another, to grow and prosper together. Fomenting peace through cowboy diplomacy, and exploring the unknown to shine the illumination of understanding to expand knowledge on a galactic scale. To boldly go."

The words were cliched and the ideals old-fashioned, but the young woman from so very long ago believed in them with all of her heart, and that lent the words sincerity.

"Where no one has gone before! And making friends every meter of the way." Asa chimed in, raising their glass high, grinning broadly, and happily taking in the site of their new friends.

Blushing again, Melanie brought her glass in to the center of the table and added to the toast. "To being a part of something bigger."

Sonak was familiar with the Human ritual but had never cared much for it. It looked too much like superstitious magical incantation to his pragmatic, logical, emotionless mind. Still, he understood the cultural significance of it in Starfleet. And so, he complied with the ritual with sincerity, looking first at each of them and finishing with his eyes in those of his wife.

"From the stars; knowledge... where souls meet."

It had started with the well-known motto of Starfleet Academy; but to it, he attached his personal experience, hoping that all gathered here would one day benefit from the same fulfillment that he had... out here, among the stars.

The door to Melanie Dox's quarters opened with its characteristic hiss as the young Junior Grade Lieutenant slouched in. While the evenings' meal and the conversation was unexpectedly enjoyable for the generally introverted pilot, she was still exhausted.

Slowly, she changed into her nightgown and prepared herself for bed, putting her thick auburn hair up into a bun to sleep, she noticed a blinking light on the PaDD on her nightstand. Standing over it for a moment knowing what it likely was. She took a breath and picked it up. On the screen was a notification that confirmed what she had thought. She had received a personal correspondence from her mother.

Walking over to the small replicator on the wall with the PaDD under her arm, Melanie ordered a small glass of water before returning to sit on her bed. She slid back in a seated position with her back against the side wall, looking down at the PaDD for a full minute. She tapped on the message notification as a security screen popped up. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melaine Dox. Play message."

A light chirp confirming her voice print followed and the screen of the PaDD was filled with the recorded video message, starting with a blue screen featuring The logo of the United Federation of Planets. After a moment, the image was replaced with that of a Romulan woman, who appeared to be what to a human would be middle-aged. Her hair was long on the sides and back and pulled back into a tight ponytail, but the front was trimmed along her brows in the distinctive v-shape common to Romulans. She wore a tight, high necked teal tunic and appeared to be sitting in a windowless but comfortable looking room. It was warmly lit and she had a slightly irritated look on her face. It was Jaeih Dox, Melanie's mother.

"Jolan Tru, my daughter." Beginning with a traditional Romulan greeting, Jaeih glanced to a point beyond the camera where Melanie knew stood a Starfleet security officer that was watching. Jaeih had been instructed to use English in her messages to Melanie but seemed to enjoy the slight bit of antagonism that the greeting expressed. For years, Jaeih raised Melanie speaking mostly the Romulan dialect of rihannsu and resented being told how she could communicate with her own daughter.

"I am sorry to hear in your last message that you are feeling trapped in your current assignment with Starfleet." Melanie smiled, taking a sip of water and remembering that her last message to her mother was recorded just before her promotion to Lieutenant Junior Grade and her reassignment to the HERA. "Be it Starfleet or the Romulan military, bureaucratic banality is a universal constant, it seems. However, you and I know full well that there is a high chance that your heritage will likely be used against you in your career. It's a pity, but one that I am confident you will overcome once your moment comes." With that, Jaeih's expression of irritation shifted to one of warmth. "I know you are... resentful of the life I gave you Melanie. I can't imagine that growing up on a smuggling ship has left you with an... excess of happy memories of me. And for that, I am truly sorry, but I cannot turn back time to give you the childhood you deserved. But I know that the childhood I could provide has given you skills that Starfleet will eventually have no choice but to acknowledge if you are given half the chance to shine."

Melanie sat back further and smiled at the rare compliment. Growing up, her mother was stern to the point of being cold at times. Melanie's education was an intense one filled with stress and praise of any kind was few and far between. She couldn't help but feel that it's unfortunate that it took imprisonment and light years between them to finally get warmth from her mother.

"I will assume that your... father... has made no attempts to communicate with you as he hasn't since you declared your intention to join Starfleet. He's always been a childish man and his disdain for authority, while attractive to me at one point, has revealed itself as nothing more than the petulance of a man blaming others for his failure. He has never understood a calling. He has never had a need to serve something with purpose. I have... never been a supporter of Starfleet..." again, she glanced behind the camera for a moment. "...But I still respect your decision and admire your desire to achieve. I know you will excel and Starfleet can only benefit from your presence."

Then Jaeih's tone shifted sharply as she took a moment to look down before continuing. "You know that my decision to leave my service to the empire was based purely in my disgust with the politics of the government. The government failed our people. They failed Romulus and I couldn't stand by and do nothing while that occurred. I am sorry that my passion forced a harsh life upon you, but it is my hope that in some way that passion can carry on in your service. I used to ask myself what it was that I saw in your father. I hope you know it was you, Melanie."

"Pause." Melanie choked out. As she spoke, the image on the screen froze and Melanie Dox began to cry. There was a part of her that hated her mother for the childhood she was denied. But deep down, she still loved her and hearing an expression of affection from her tore into her harder than Melanie could have expected. After a moment, she wiped her eyes and composed herself. "Dammit, Mother." She chuckled as if Jaeih could hear her through the PaDD. "Resume".

The video continued. "I'm sorry if I allowed my feelings to get the better of me, here. I do... miss you. I miss seeing your face and hearing your voice before me. But I will continue to placate the wishes of my keepers in the hope that one day my efforts here may aid our people wherever they may be. OUR, Melanie. Do not forget that. While your father spent what little time he had with you doing... everything... to distance you from your heritage in every way, you will always be my daughter. And no matter what you see in the mirror or what others may tell you, you are as much a child of Romulus as you are of Earth and there is NO shame to be found in that. I look forward to hearing from you again, my daughter, and hope you are well. Jolan Tru." And with that, the screen returned to the Federation logo. Melanie shrunk slightly at her mother's words, wiping away tears as she had spent years trying to keep that part of her to herself. But earlier that evening, in the presence of her crewmates that she now considered friends, she talked openly about her past and her Romulan heritage and met nothing but interest and compassion. None of the scorn or derision that she found at the academy. For the first time since she was a child and had no frame of reference to believe otherwise, she didn't feel ashamed of where she came from. If only for this moment, it would be enough.

Wiping her face dry and hoping her eyes were too puffy from crying, Melanie composed herself and held the PaDD up higher towards her as she pressed a button on the screen. "Record return correspondence. Dox, Melanie. Lieutenant Junior Grade." With a light chirp, the PaDD responded. "Begin Recording, Lieutenant."

"Jolan tru, Mother. While I can't go into details, something pretty... amazing has happened. And I think I'm... happy."

The workstation was quite even with the sift beat of some orion music going through the small room. One of the jars sat on the table on top of a rig built to work like the contraption down on the planet. From her console, Thex was hard at work her fingers running across the screen as she tried to make sense of the nineties. These things made the Borg look advanced yet nothing she could do made them move or even give her something to work with.

She leaned back in her chair trying to clear her head and give her a different angle to go at it. She had wondered about asking Hera for help, but given how long these had been broken she had no idea how to fix them either. She was clearly no Hephaestus. Rather ironic that the goddess of motherhood had thrown her own deformed son off a cliff.

The andorian stood up as she ran her hands through her hair as she made the way to engineering replicator. Soon a cold drink was back in her seat. Time to think of some other ideas.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Her feet stood upon a cold stone floor as the wind flowed through the dark chamber. Her thin outfit blew in the wind as fires began to light bathing the room in bright burning light.

Before her antenna had even detected the vibration her body was moving to the music. Her hips, legs and arms moving to the rhythm apparently without even needing her to move them.

She moved so fast she could barely catch glimpses of the others standing in the chamber. Andorians wearing masks of what could only be described as things to horrific for a mortal mind to describe surrounded her standing deadly silent.

The music quickened and the drumming beat got stronger and her movement got stronger and stronger. She was losing sight of the crowd as she began to work herself into a frenzy. Her heart was pumping faster and faster as the music began to blur until with a flash both the music and torches vanished.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Thex eyes shot open as she snapped back to reality. That had been by far the most bizarre dream she had had in a long time. True she'd had dreams of dancing before, but something about that was frightening. The mask and dead silence of the andorians sent a shiver through the andorians spine

Rising from her desk she did her best to rub her eyes clear as she looked at the data in front of her. No real change. The nanites were still repairing the armour, yet it was at such a slow pace it was hardly worth noting.

Standing up the blue chief engineer left the computer running setting it alert her if anything happened. She needed a shower and something to eat.

The cultural exchange of serving her alien shipmates earth cuisine had gone well, and afterward Rita Paris had moved everyone to the ‘living room’ as she called it, with a comfortable couch and seats that all gathered around a low table she referred to as a ‘coffee table’. Which was precisely the beverage that she served, with optional cream and sugar for those who desired it. For Sonak she offered spiced tea, as well as for anyone who preferred the subtle spiced Vulcan hot beverage to the strong acidic bite of the morning beverage of her world.

Small bowls of the dark pudding Dox had brought were served to go with the beverages. Thus the quartet were found lounging comfortably after the meal- Dox in one chair, Dael in another. While Rita Paris, in an uncharacteristic moment, was curled up on the couch, legs tucked underneath her as she snuggled against the stoic Vulcan conversationalist.

While during duty hours and at large the duo of scientist and executive were purely professional, this was off duty time and behind closed doors, amongst friends who were also senior staff. Part of the purpose of the exercise was to get to know one another as individuals, and to her mind part of that was allowing her shipmates to see that she and her spouse were actually close.

“So we rescue him from Talos IV, and I escort him off the bridge to be confined to quarters, as per his own recommendation. Once we get to his quarters, all I can think of is to say ‘I got your message!’, which would make no sense to anyone in the universe, but he of course,” Rita paused to fondly pat Sonak on the chest, “immediately figures out that when I touched him for all of three seconds back on Earth, he managed to install the Ka-dasirkolin in my head to clue me in, so that we would know where to come to rescue him." Rita relayed, retelling the story of how the duo had begun their relationship, a century and a quarter in the past, in universe similar to this one.

"So standing there in the doorway, he makes sure I am okay, and I am, and he asks me ‘I find it difficult to reconcile your words with your apparent emotional state. You do seem inconvenienced. Is there anything I can do to alleviate this condition of which I am most probably responsible?’ and I kinda said under my breath, ‘Is there ever…’ I was so proud of myself, because I stood up and told him right there that I liked him and I thought he was fascinating and before we turned ourselves in for that death sentence from Talos IV I wanted to have enthusiastic, athletic..." Rita paused, catching herself before oversharing. "And that’s, ah, pretty much how we got started.”

Melanie Dox, the Hera's newest pilot and very new Chief Flight Control Officer sipped the cup of spiced tea she had chosen and smiled at the story, enjoying her continual discovery that her statuesque first officer was, in fact, a real person. It helped calm the virtually omnipresent anxiety that churned in her stomach, especially in social situations.

Such social events were rare in Melanie's past and those that were there generally went terribly for the nervous Lieutenant. So far, the few social encounters she had here on the Starship HERA were the exceptions to those old rules and she was becoming increasingly more comfortable with her new crewmates.

“Well that’s just the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever heard,” Asa replied. The doctor had never had any kind of romantic relationship, and truth be told didn’t really feel the need for one, but saw the joy it gave to their crewmates, and was happy for them in the happiness they had clearly found.

“I’m glad he was able to follow you here. Our universe is all the richer for having you both,” the doctor added, slowly sipping coffee. “I’m probably going to be up all night from drinking this, but dang if it’s not worth it. I would take a jog to run off some excess energy, but the Doctor has told me to take it easy for another week or two after everything that happened on the planet. Gotta say, taking it easy is not really my style.”

“I had this friend growing up, Lakanna, another El-Aurian about 10 years my senior. She was so studious and slow around the elders, acted exactly the way a good El-Aurian is supposed to. I doubt she’ll leave home before she’s 100, even if it is permissible to leave at 90 these days. She listened all the time, never interrupted anyone, never had anything to say…….in public. Then as soon as all the stuffy, stuck up elders left she would absolutely run wild. She loved to scream and climb trees with me, diving off the cliffs into the deep pools near our colony. I always told her there was a whole wide universes out there….no point waiting another 70 years before seeing it. I hope she gets out soon,” Asa concluded with a wistful expression in their eyes. “Anyway, all that to say, just in case you were wondering, I’m not the only slightly overactive one of my people. Slightly mind, I have calmed down since joining Starfleet.”

"Even on Vulcan, there are some individuals who would choose to live experiences that would not be deemed proper in our society," Sonak said in a very serious yet very soft tone. "There was even a time a few centuries back when certain socio political entities would frown upon this and go as far as to forcibly repress them. For a time, things natural to us like mind-melding had been banned and declared a social disease, it's practitioners shunned and criminalized because they dared to live outside the declared norm. Yes, even on Vulcan, prejudice for a time had found a way to take root and flourish. But in the end, logic prevailed, in no small part because emotional Humans opened up our eyes. Since then, the IDIC philosophy; Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, is the best contribution of Vulcan to the Federation... and hopefully to other worlds as well."

While he spoke, he looked at them all, four completely different sentient species sharing the evening, making it the very emphasis of his words.

"I suppose none of us would be here if we did what others thought we should." Melanie thought out loud, looking down at her tea and barely realizing she said it to the room. "If we didn't, at some point, say no... there's more to life then what we thought was available to us." Then she looked up at the others in the room. "If that makes any sense."

At that, Paris laughed musically. "Perfect sense. If it was up to my father, I would have been a Starfleet Stepford wife, being a secretary for some admiral Daddy wanted to spy on, married to some other legacy Starfleet family branch and churning out male babies for him to dote on as the Paris legacy within Starfleet flourished. I certainly wouldn't be here, and I definitely would not have settled down with the last... well, a kolinahr from Vulcan who sees me as a person with something to contribute other than my babymaking ability."

"Considering the entirely different biology and evolutionary tract from distant biospheres, that would have been a most illogical reason to base our relationship on," Sonak agreed; "and even if there are some solutions to circumvent the initial difficulty, confining any mate to such a limited view is a deplorable waste of potential. You and I, and you all... have so much more to offer than just our biology."

“Good thing that….” Asa murmured, thinking of their own run in with Hera earlier in the day, and the changes their biology was going through.

“Sonak, my knowledge of Vulcan history is a bit limited. If I may ask, how did an increase in psychic ability translate to the social structure of your world in a pre-warp society? I’ve always posited psychic ability would confer greater tolerance and understanding, but I frequently see the reverse to be true,” Asa inquired respectfully.

Sonak joined his two forefingers together as he collected his thoughts.

"Psionics are a defining part of the physiology of the Vulcan brain. If anything, ancient Vulcan legends would claim our ancestors had abilities even far beyond what is currently known today. They could rip minds and matter even from a distance; weapons were conceived to amplify and use those abilities; wars were fought with them. The savagery of our past is even beyond human imagination. We would have brought ourselves to extinction, if but one, brilliant, courageous believer in life and peace had not inspired our people to the only way that could save us from our brutal emotions; the way of logic. Hence why Surak is called the father of all that is now Vulcan."

He looked at Asa with his soft liquid grey eyes.

"When you hypothesize that psychic ability would confer greater harmony within an individual or a society, that would be possible only if those individuals making said society are free from destructive instincts and emotions; as Vulcan exemplifies today. But look what happened with Humans when Earth succeeded in creating homo superior individuals like the legendary Khan Noonien Singh; or when Starfleet officer Gary Mitchell of the starship Enterprise became endowed with reality-altering powers when exposed to the energy barrier surrounding the galaxy. Then as of now, when instincts and emotions overwhelm morality and reason, the old axiom was proven true: superior power breeds superior ambition."

Asa listened raptly, nodding and listening to Sonak speak. As he concluded, they said, "I can see what you mean. How unfortunate this is true. It would be a kinder universe if all that stood in the way of harmony was a lack of understanding of one another."

While Sonak talked, Melanie sat a little further back in her chair. She had a hard time in general keeping her emotions from playing across her face most of the time and the idea of telepathy generally made her nervous, though she appreciated Sonak's statements and found them oddly reassuring. Vulcans generally had no ego attached to those abilities, and she appreciated that. She took another sip of tea hoping it would mask any nervousness as she tried to let it fade.

Eyeing Dox as she shrunk into her chair and her eyes darted about, Rita sighed. She could just call her out on it again, or she could try to draw the anxious aviator out. "You have Romulan heritage, right Dox? Do you know much about their telepathic abilities?"

Sitting up a little too sharply, Rita Paris' question startled Melanie back to the moment. She had been retreating into her own head, and she figured the attentive First Officer had picked up on it. "Uh... Yeah. Not... Not that much, really." She fidgeted slightly trying to not let anxiety get the better of her. Dox knew she was among friends, but old habits die hard so she decided to be straightforward about her anxiety.

"I'm sorry. I'm... I've never been comfortable talking about it. Romulans aren't exactly... Popular in Starfleet. But I'm trying to be better." She flashed Paris a sincere smile that told the story. She was nervous, but she trusted them. "My Mother was only half Romulan, so whatever natural abilities she might have had were already... Diluted... I guess. And I sure didn't get anything. She used to tell me that the Romulans turned their backs on their abilities so long ago that few had any developed skills in that capacity. She called it a weakness of... our... race."

Glancing up at the others to try and gauge their expressions and seeing nothing overtly negative, Melanie continued with a little more confidence. "She defected before the reunification movement started, but once it did, she became obsessed with Vulcan culture. Taught me a lot about it. She would quiz me in Romulan and Vulcan as a kid." Melanie finished her tea and chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry. I'm rambling."

"Not at all, that's fascinating! Your mother sounds like quite the amazing woman- it couldn't have been easy escaping Romulus back then. And you speak Romulan and Vulcan?" Paris clearly was less discriminatory than celebratory, but not without an honest nod to the realities of the Star Empire. "That's neat! I know like a dozen words in Vulcan, and I have a little bit of an educated man in my head."

"I... Wouldn't say I speak either all that well anymore. It's been a while since I've done it. But on the... smuggling ship I grew up on, NOT using a universal translator was important, so I had to learn a few. Learned a little Klingon, too." Melanie had almost omitted the detail about what kind of ship it was, but chose to be straightforward. "She's... unique... I guess. After we got picked up, she ended up in protective custody with Starfleet." Her tone dropped sharply as she fiddled with her cup. "I get a video message from her every month or so that Starfleet forwards to me. I've not seen her or my father in person in years."

Then, hoping to lighten her own mood back, Melanie shifted the subject slighlty. "So, at least I can grow my hair out now. My curly hair and that cut did not go together."

"You are a living embodiement of IDIC," Sonak declared to Melanie with great seriousness. "May your personality and uniqueness inspire us all."

Melanie's cheeks turned a warm tan, blushing from the stoic Vulcans complimentary words. Though she couldn't resist a slight dig at herself in response. "Well, hopefully not my neurosis and anxiety." She smiled broadly as the knot in her stomach unraveled a bit.

"You'll get there, Dox. You'll learn how to get out of your own way, I have absolute confidence in you," Rita offered frankly. "Not the easiest thing in the galaxy, but you're getting there. Our experiences forge us, and translate into confidence because of our accomplishments. And you, my friend, are one hell of a pilot. Which means you are going to have some rather spectacular accomplishments, given the life of a Starfleet officer."

"It'll come," Paris finished off with a gun finger and a wink of knowing.

"Thanks." Dox replied with an authentic smile as she looked up at the faces of her fellow officers, being met back with smiles and that respectful Vulcan equivalency. "I appreciate your confidence." She leaned forward to refill her tea.

Asa hated to see their new friend feeling poorly about something so silly as lineage- after all, no one can choose their parents, a fact the young doctor well knew. They brushed against her shoulder and said softly, "Hey Melanie, if it helps, my family is a bunch of religious nutbars who eschewed all that El-Aurians knew and could teach to go live in poverty and die of preventable diseases. We don't choose our histories, only our futures."

Appreciating the sentiment, Dox replied to Asa with a smile. "Thanks."

Sonak raised his right eyebrow slightly.

"You are a Starfleet officer. From more than one hundred and fifty worlds composing the United Federation of Planets, barely a handful from each world manage to meet the admission requirements to Starfleet Academy. Of these elite few, a significant number of them do not graduate to serve on any Starfleet installation, and those who do are not all fit to serve on a starship. from this limited number, not all of them graduate beyond Ensign during their time of service. And from these career officers, only a few will qualify to serve on the Hera."

Again his steely grey eyes searched hers.

"I am not stating this to... strike your ego. I am merely stating facts. From those facts, you will be able to see everything you, like any of us, have accomplished so far... and more importantly, how much is opened ahead of you. Confidence in you started with full justification the very day you were allowed to wear a Starfleet uniform. Since then, you have proven that estimate to be right. Please carry on."

"Thank you." Melanie replied with a warm smile. She understood Vulcan culture enough to find a good degree of comfort from a thoroughly logical assessment. "While I know that it may not always be necessary for others, it's important to ME to express my appreciation. The confidence of others is something I never want to take for granted." Dox paused, glancing upwards to collect her thoughts. "It helps me feel more... balanced, where otherwise my own anxiety might get the best of me, and as you can attest..." the pilot looked meaningfully over to Rita Paris, "...usually does."

"Au contraire, Miss Dox," Paris offered. "In my experience your anxiety nips at your heels and dogs your steps, but a little encouragement is all that you lack, because you are quite willing not to let it get the best of you. Until you see what we see, we'll be happy to help you shift your perspective to see your worth. You and Doc here are both rather amazing individuals- that's how you ended up here. This is a tough assignment to get, and it reflects on both of you that you're here. Sonak had to ace his classes in his refresher to get here, whereas me, well- the Hera literally ran into me," Paris snickered.

Leaning forward in her chair slightly, Dox crossed her legs in front of her with a broader smile. "That is a story I am very curious about."

A bemused expression passed over the face of the Starfleet siren of a bygone era, and she paused to share a meaningful glance with her stoic spouse before launching into the tale. "I think we might be classified, but you're here, and we're shipmates and you deserve to know. Our tale is somewhat stranger than fiction."

"In our universe, we still used the old Earth calendar, so the year was 2268, whatever that translates to in stardate. As the most advanced starships in Starfleet, a number of the Constitution class starships had been dispatched on the five-year missions, to expand the boundaries of known space, and to seek out new life... well, you know the rest, because I reference it often enough."

"Sonak and I had been serving on the USS Exeter for a little over three years, under the command of Captain Michael Stuart. The captain was an engineering lieutenant who had led a mutiny against Captain Ronald Tracy when he'd gone mad on Omega IV. That's a portrait of his counterpart from this universe over there on the wall, in Engineering red. This universe's version died in orbit around Omega IV. But our Stuart's reward for bringing the Exeter home was command and a promotion, and they filled the billets with all-new crew. Stuart convinced Sonak to leave his post at Starfleet Academy, as Vulcan had recently been destroyed and he felt the need to explore, while I'd just gotten put back together after spending almost five years as a warp phantom aboard the USS Constitution." Rita paused, realizing her stories required more explanation.

"Okay, so, backstory to the backstory, ah, my domineering father Commander Clifford Paris sabotaged the transporter of the Constitution in an effort to scare me into not going on the 5-year mission. But it didn't kill me, it just left me as imperceptible pure energy that managed to retain cohesion, trapped by the warp field. I wasn't exactly alive, but I couldn't die either. An engineering ensign figured it out years later and put me back together physically, and Starfleet Psych put me back together emotionally." Paris mentioned all of the hellish experience almost casually, as she had dealt with it long ago. But her listening audience could see how her hand slid down to grip Sonak's tightly, a subtle sign that the experience still haunted her somewhat. It also validated her well-known phobia of transporters and why her existence was to tied to the physical, having been a ghost.

"As for Vulcan, a rogue Romulan mining crew from this universe pursued Ambassador Spock through a dimensional rift caused by red matter, whereupon they took revenge upon Spock for not saving their world by destroying Vulcan using red matter. Almost no one was evacuated, and only those off-planet survived. Ten thousand Vulcans, they were instantly an endangered species. Sonak was the last kolinahr, the much-vaunted masters of logic who had purged themselves of all emotion. He realized that his people would need to learn to live and thrive amongst other races across the stars, and when we met, he asked my help to learn how best to deal with the human crew of the Exeter. Back then, out of 430 starship crew, 426 were human. Once I realized he was serious- because when is he not- that was part of how we became a team." Rita paused, rubbing a reassuring hand across Sonak's biceps. "Accurate?"

"I concur," the Vulcan answered. "I would add this; I have found out that, instead of dying of the infection that killed the entire crew of the USS Exeter, all but Captain Tracy, as in your reality, our Michael Stuart had accompanied him down to the surface and thus like him was saved by the natural immunizing agents on the planet. There was no USS Enterprise and Captain Kirk in our time to stop Tracy's demented scheme; Stuart did. This discrepancy between our two parallel universes, and many others I have studied, tends to support the theory that there is some kind of unifying quantum principle so that, when some elements are missing, others tend to take their place. That in turn, could explain why Rita and I could have managed, against all odds, to find each other across time, space and quantum dimensions. Nature hates emptiness."

He would have added 'as do I,' if he could feel any emotion. But what he felt regarding Rita was even deeper than that. it was obvious the way he looked at her as she resumed her story.

"So to answer the relevant question, how the Hera ran into me,- we were on a mission to Aijon Prime, the fourth planet in the system, where a science station outpost was in peril. An ion storm was moving through the system, while solar flare activity was markedly high, and while the tectonic state of the planet destabilized, the only way off the planet before the facility was destroyed or the Exeter had to leave the system was beaming out." Rita squirmed slightly in her seat, unconsciously fidgeting at the memory, which was considerably fresher in her mind. "So after another earthquake damaged the transporter, Sonak jury-rigged it and tried to beam me and the core sample out... but I never arrived. He stayed and fought to stabilize the beam, until the facility came down around him- it's a miracle he survived for the landing party to find him."

Sitting back in her chair, Melanie Dox put her hand up to her mouth momentarily while Rita Paris spoke. The young pilot hadn't fully understood exactly why her First Officer had asked her to pick her up in a Runabout from Meroset until this moment but was shocked to hear the story unfold, and listened quietly.

The left eyebrow rose on the jade-tinted angular face.

"I would not qualify these events as anything supernatural. Vulcan constitution is hardier than those of many other humanoid species and I calculated from known architectural layouts the safest place to find cover when the structure came down. Then using the Vulcan healing trance, I could wait quite a while for a rescue. of course there was a significant risk; but I had calculated the odds to be acceptable if it meant keeping her signal cohesive enough to be sent somewhere, anywhere but oblivion."

He did not however said that he had calculated his own odds at zero point four-seven-five-three percent. So Rita could continue her tale without being bothered by those numbers. Their first evening together she had politely requested never to be told the odds, which he had respected ever since.

"As for me, I got shot through time and space- he can explain the science, but really, an awful lot of it is chance and fortunate happenstance, even with the math. But somehow I ended up as a warp phantom again, this time in deep space 127 years out of date. I likely would have dissipated, except that the Hera literally ran into me, and once I was in the warp field, I started slowly solidifying. These warp engines are a lot more powerful than the old days, so they actually saw me in Main Engineering trying to read the panels and make out where the heck I was. That's when Captain Telvan and Dedjoy used the S31 transporter in the Intel pod to reassemble me. Once I was here, I adapted as well as I could, but honestly, I'd lost him, so I was kind of a wreck. There was no way back to my own time, and even if there was, it wouldn't have been my past, and my Sonak was who knew where in what dimension."

"But Dedjoy worked out how to send a message back. So as not to violate the temporal prime directive, we sent back my old communicator, with my last report and chronodimensional coordinates for where I was." Beaming proudly at the stern-faced Vulcan whose expression she found not stern at all, Rita ran the backs of her fingers over his cheek. "That was all he needed... some clue where I could be found. And he came for me."

Relaying the tale still brought tears to the ancient astronaut's eyes, as she smiled at the hero who had come so far and risked so much just to find her again, out of love and devotion and, of course, logic. And so he stated.

"It was the only logical thing to do."

"You are an incurable romantic," Rita sighed, offering a peck on the cheek from his mate to entice the Vulcan master of logic to elaborate.

At this, Melanie Dox found herself tearing up slightly as a smile beamed across her face.

"I knew how she had been lost. I was, after all, the one to cause the quantum transference in the first place. But the destruction of the station eliminated all data needed to retrace the signal from it's source to it's destination. Of course, Starfleet did not authorize me to make any attempt to go back in time to get that data, let alone change the course of past events. A logical decision, even as unsatisfactory as it was. But when we received her transdimensional report, I had the very thing I needed from her own communicator; the residue of the quantum resonance of the spacetime continuum where she was currently located."

He paused a moment to let them digest all that he was telling before concluding.

Turning wide eyes to look at Asa, Melanie's expression was that of someone who just began to piece together the pieces of a mystery as the story fell together.

"All I needed from then on was a mean to get myself to these coordinates; to effect a temporal warpfield at the proper quantum resonance within a cosmic disturbance at least as powerful as an ion storm... like the solar flare of a red supergiant... without being destroyed of course. There was only one ship capable of doing so; the advanced scoutship nicknamed the "Jellyfish" the late ambassador Spock had used when coming to our reality; in fact, creating it from the disturbance caused by his arrival and that of the mad Romulan Nero and his Borg-altered mining ship. As I was the guardian of Spock's katra, I mindmelded with it to learn how to generate a slingshot effect and to use the metaphasic shielding and controls of his ship to execute the voyage from there to here. Knowing this was irreversible, I calculated my arrival early enough to be thoroughly debriefed by Vulcan High Command, Starfleet intelligence and the Federation Science Council, bring me up to date and earn the privilege of choosing my posting through an intense refresher course at Starfleet Academy... and find her again."

He paused again before adding:

"Of course, this allowed me to return the ship to it's proper owners in it's proper frame of reference... as well as Ambassador Spock's katra to Vulcan."

"My big damn hero," Rita leaned back and held her hand out to display the casually-seated off-duty officer who casually relayed his adventures in space and time. "I wondered why Starfleet Command bought my story so easily. They accepted that I was Starfleet because two years earlier he'd been here and through all of his debriefing he also validated my appearance, though I had to appear, and had yet to play my part and pursue my destiny, unaware that he was coming for me."

"Take that one as a lesson, you two," Rita Paris offered softly as her right hand still held his left, though they were pulled apart. Gazing at Sonak she just took in the sight of him, the joy of seeing him there radiantly evident on her face as she spoke. "The universe will do some awful things and throw you some crazy curve balls. But the universe is not unkind, and the risk is often worth the reward. Help one another. If there's one lesson I've learned among the stars, between every race and creed, the one thing that always works, is help one another. How does it go?"

"There is no greater purpose in one’s life than to be a light to others," Rita and Sonak said in unison. "Quoted from the Kirshara, the teachings of Surak, father of all that is Vulcan. I am gratified to be a light to you, as you are to me.”

At which Rita grinned broadly, and Sonak half-raised an eyebrow.

At which point, Melanie could no longer contain herself, as she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye and chuckled. "Wow. I... that's just... wow."

While Asa had known some of the salient points of Rita and Sonak as it pertained to their medical needs and sensitivities, the doctor found hearing the tale told in front of them to take on a new life. Their shipmate's outlook on things was a shot of much needed optimism, and encouraged the doctor that there is always hope.

"I've always decided to look for life and light. It's what brought me to Starfleet, it's what made me want to go into a medical field. I was concerned after the last mission that I was not cut out to be here... it was... difficult for me to see the actions on the ground, even though I knew it needed to happen. I am encouraged to know I am surrounded by others with the same concern for life that I have.'

"I share your concern," Sonak said with definite seriousness. "It is understood that Starfleet has been first and foremost conceived as, not just the exploration, colonization and relief tool; but the regrettably necessary force of arms of the Federation. There are unenlightened, hostile and destructive forces in the universe. Denying it is illogical. Sometimes it has to be met head on before efforts to defuse conflict may really begin. Yet, it seems the mindset nowadays is only that of fear."

The Vulcan almost sighed.

"When I first became aware of this prevalent archaic mentality at Starfleet Academy, I briefly entertained the notion that the Dominion had conquered the Federation. Certainly if they had, things would not have been much different. They may not hold governance, but their attitude is nevertheless what seems to lead us all."

His hand rose as if to encompass everything around them.

"Look at the motto on the dedication plaque of this ship; For those who day and night live in death's fear. Does it sound like it was uttered by a Human, a Vulcan, an Andorian, a Tellarite... or a Changeling? It seems like the conflicts with the Borg and especially the Dominion left a definite trauma. Once, we deemed better to risk oneself than risk losing the chance of making a friend."

"Well, to be fair that is only half of it," Rita chimed in. "The full quote is a bit more hopeful- 'For mortals vanished by the day's sweet light, I shed no tear; rather, I mourn for those who day and night live in death's fear.' It's a bit more hopeful than just the end of the quote, and I prefer it. I mean, I'll admit that Starfleet has definitely lost much of the optimism of our day, but I don't think it's lost. To my mind, it is just that with all of the losses and fears that have resulted from hostile encounters and galactic wars, Starfleet seems to have turned to fear and reacted."

"But they can still be reminded that there is a better way. I'll be honest, it broke my heart that I had to resort to violence on the surface of Meroset 347. But it was necessary, and we were as judicious as possible in the application of violence and lethal force. But we captured Hera, we didn't kill her. We captured the Amazonians, we didn't murder them. We helped negotiate peace with the Merosians, not aid them in losing a conqueror only to fall to fighting amongst themselves. It wasn't a perfect mission, but we accomplished it with a minimum application of force to accomplish a peaceful resolution. Even Hera herself was impressed," Rita added. While she still felt guilt over her actions, she did see the necessity of it. "I'm choosing to dwell on the positive elements of the mission that involved compassion and mercy and optimism- the qualities of Starfleet that I want to see return to the modern Starfleet."

Sonak nodded, looking at their guests.

"I agree. And present company is already enough to justify the possibility of once again achieving that goal."

Looking around the room at those around her with a warm, but characteristically nervous smile, Melanie Dox nodded even if she was still trying to bolster herself to believe her logical crewmate in regards to herself.

While they literally looked the part in uniform, Rita and Sonak embodied the values of their time, and while they were working to adapt, it was clear that they were determined to bring the spirit of the 23rd century into the close of the 24th.

Turning to regard the young idealistic physician in their midst, Rita Paris reached out a long leg to nudge them gently with a toes. "You're awfully quiet, Asa. Are you okay, or have we got you deep in thought?"

"Just pondering the differences between your original timeline and ours...and also how different Starfleet itself became in a short period of time. I'm wondering what it will be in a couple hundred years from now....and honestly, a bit worried who I will be then. I've seen how time can warp El-Aurians too. Some become simple hucksters, other wise listeners, but most seem....uninvolved. And I can't imagine not being involved in things, being passive and letting the universe happen all around me. Heck, traditionally I wouldn't have even left home for another 70 years....and if I did that, who would I have been?"

The young doctor seemed to fully be seeing the span of years stretching out ahead of them, and for the first time, was concerned about how long their life would be....and potentially, how lonely.

"I don't know..." Melanie sipped on her drink and pondered the doctor's words. "I don't have a frame of reference for living that long. I'm only a little over thirty and honestly don't really know, biologically, what my lifespan will end up being all things considered. But in a lot of ways, I've already been a few different people in a short period of time." She looked at the people in the room. "But the company we keep sure does have an effect on who we become. So, there's that." Melanie smiled at the doctor.

Asa returned her smile back to her, "That is a happy thought. I suppose everyone feels their life will be overlong at the beginning of it, and everyone feels it too short at the end. I should focus on the now, and let tomorrow tend to itself."

“Precisely!" Rita interjected. "Be in the moment, Asa. I have lived life over a much longer span than biology would allow me, so take this for what it’s worth. You live in the moment- appreciate the past, because it formed who you are and fills you with memories, good and bad.” The bombastic blonde paused to gaze at her somber husband appreciatively before she continued.

“You can plan for the future, but take it from me, all of that can change in an instant. As for who you will be and how you will change… life forces compromise on you. The best you can hope for is to be as true to yourself as you can in those moments. The only thing I will ever ask of you is to not lose your compassion. It defines you, and it is what makes you great. Hold fast to that, and the changes around you will likely be many and major, but the core of who you are won’t change. New faces will replace the old ones, and your relationships will come and go. But the memories of people and places and experiences are yours forever.” Paris paused to look up, rolling her eyes and sighing. “Or at least that’s been my experience. Yours will be a bit different, I suspect.”

"That sounds like a lovely way to view things, Rita," Asa replied gently. "I will do my best to not lose my compassion... I wouldn't be a very good doctor if I did, and that's all I've ever wanted to be. Well, that and a professional pastry eater, but there is less a market for that," the doctor replied with a wink.

A warm laugh rolled out of the stout pilot at Asa's joke and she felt genuinely happy being there. The anxiety she felt almost perpetually was, at least for that moment, was taking a well earned break and Melanie Dox found herself actively enjoying herself in a social situation... something she had precious little experience with. That gave her cause to keep smiling.

"There is much wisdom in all this," Sonak mused, always serious. "For someone who exceeded the ultimate goal of his own people to being totally freed of all emotions, this gives much to ponder... and wonder. There is a balance here, I am beginning to suspect, that opens possibilities. You are all my teachers now. This slice of life we will share will undoubtedly become a worthwhile experience. Thank you for sharing. Because after all, it is the sharing that makes us achieve the best of what we can be."

"See? How can you not love that in a man? The pinnacle of logic yet still determined to celebrate our experience all the same." Rita sighed blissfully, leaning into Sonak and laying her head on his shoulder as their hands intertwined again. Here in the privacy of their quarters, amongst friends, she could fully express herself, and her love and devotion for the grey-eyed philosopher was plainly evident. Then, realizing that she might be making the two single people a bit uncomfortable, she changed course, as she was wont to do.

"So- boardgames or trideo night?" she asked, wondering if the concepts were even universal amongst the cultures of her shipmates. Sonak knew, of course, but she and he had been together for years, and he had long ago grown familiar with the concepts.

Whatever was chosen, there was a certain assurance that fun would be had by all, amongst the four who had come together as friends- to share, to learn and to grow... together.

04:00 would have been her preference, but Rita Paris was late to bed and early to rise. Not everyone operated that way. in truth, 05:00 would have been reasonable, but again, she knew her audience. 06:00 was closer to the actual waking hour of the chief flight officer of the Hera, Paris wagered. After all, duty at 07:00 on alpha shift. Which meant that if they were going to have an hour, Dox was going to lose some sleep.

At 05:00 the door chime rang in the cozy junior officer's quarters on deck 2.

The chime coincided with Dox's own alarm, as she had been getting up at 05:00 since her promotion to Chief Flight Control Officer so she would have plenty of time to not just get ready for her day but also review the flight crew rotations for the day. For a moment, she didn't notice the chime as different from her own alarm, but thankfully for the groggy Junior Grade Lieutenant, the computer chimed in to deactivate her alarm and inform her of a visitor.

Scrunching her face slightly in confusion from the edge of her bed, Melanie called out "One moment." Walking to the door with increasing briskness, she threw on and tied off a robe she kept for just such a situation. By the time she reached the door, she was awake enough for her characteristic anxiety to take hold.

Pressing the pad at the side, the door slid open with a hiss and Melanie saw that her visitor was none other than the First Officer of the Hera, Rita Paris. Instantly, her mild concern ramped up to surprise as she shot to a more attentive stance. "Commander? What's wrong?

"Not a thing, Miss Dox," Paris replied, clad in a canary yellow sports bra that zipped up the front with bright red stretched lettering that read '75 PSI', showing a bare midriff with some rather toned abs. Some matching tight stretchy shorts that started a bit low on her hips ended halfway down the California girl's thighs. As she spoke, she raised one running shoe-clad foot to the hallways rail and leaned into a long stretch. "I'm up for my morning run, and you mentioned you have all of those hull running programs. I thought I'd haul you out for a run, and I have Holodeck 3 booked for the occasion. What do you say? I know running might not be your favorite thing, but it does give us a chance to talk. And for the record, this is not an official request, and you can say no."

Scratching the back of her head for a moment, absorbing what Rita Paris had just said, Melanie's initial nerves subsided quickly. While running wasn't her favorite activity, she WAS actually excited for the opportunity to share some of the starship exteriors programs she had developed and it showed on her face.

"Uh... Yeah. Yes, absolutely." Melanie's head darted around her modest quarters, realizing there was nowhere to offer the commander a place to sit that also wasn't in view of where she would need to be to get dressed. "Let me just throw myself together. Less then five minutes."

"I'll be out here doing stretches. You don't get a lot of foot traffic on Deck 2, so I shouldn't cause any catastrophes while I warm up." As she spoke, the limber leggy lieutenant put her foot up on the wall at doorway height and continued to blithely aggravate Dox's body issues. "Do your thing, I'll wait."

"Thanks. Be right out." Dox rushed back into her quarters, quickly did her morning business and freshened herself up to be as presentable as possible and ran over to the closet while grabbing a protien shake from the replicator on the way. She had a couple of exercise outfits ready as she tried to get a few days of decent exercise in a week but was suddenly feeling shorter and fatter then usual after seeing Rita Paris ready to go.

Grabbing an outfit quickly, she pulled on a pair of full length black leggings with a thick, command red stripe running up the right leg that ended in an embroidered gold Starfleet Delta at the hip and a comfortable black sports bra. She undid the messy bun she slept in and tied her thick, curly auburn locks into a ponytail while stuffing her feet into a pair of running shoes at the base of her closet. Finally, she pulled on a loose necked black T-shirt with gold letters that read "For Those Who Day and Night Live in Sweat's Fear" that she saw in the ships store and thought was cute.

Slapping her comm badge to her bra, under her t-shirt, she looked at her time and was happy to see that she was at four and a half minutes. Melanie took a deep breath and tried to not think about how ridiculous she would look bouncing next to the virtual Amazon of perfection that was Rita Paris and stepped out into the corridor. "I'll have to get stretched up a little myself, but otherwise ready to go Commander."

“Spectacular! Let’s just head for Deck 11. Once we’re in a populated area of the ship we’ll draw gawkers, so we’ll just double-time it to the holodeck.” Paris remarked. After all, she was well aware of her looks and physique, and the effect it had on people. As First Officer, she had a certain decorum that was expected, and she was keenly aware that her minimal workout clothing would cause all sorts of attention and speculation. “Usually I use one of the holosuites just for myself, but I want your program to have the full capacity to run.”

Striding to the turbolift, Paris grinned, clearly cited. “So you did mention you had a Constitution class, right?”

"Absolutely. It's patterned after the Enterprise as the most detailed records are available for her..." Dox replied with a slight smile. "...but I made a scan of the model of the Exeter from the Flight Control office desk for comparison of details, cross referenced it against Starfleet records and created an alternate program for her." Stopping to wait for the turbolift, Melanie got in some quick stretching herself, hoping nobody would walk by and see her.

"Plus, the Constitution Class is the easiest surface for running by FAR. A perfect circle with no windows on the rim and a mostly flat space with few edges." Then she looked up for a moment to think. "The Excellsior, Constalation, Galaxy and Nebula classes would also be okay for when you might want a LONGER run, but the Soverign would be like trying to run the Academy obstacle course. There's so much... stuff... on the surface."

“Ah, I signed on for the simplicity,” Paris smiled as the turbolift doors opened and a few bridge crew personnel goggled a bit at the duo.

“Gentlemen,” Paris said with a dazzling smile before she turned around to watch the lift doors, pretending she was not currently being scrutinized. Apparently the curvaceous commander was quite familiar with the reactions she inspired, and she pointedly ignored the slightly dazed officers, to allow them to have their reactions in her wake.

Desperately wishing that turbolifts had corners, Melanie pushed herself as far back as she could as the doors closed, mortified. Her cheeks went flush with their usual deep tan complexion that was a visual reminder of her Romulan heritage thanks to a distinct mix of DNA that gave her a deep Brown colored blood. She had no idea how her First Officer managed to exude such confidence, but sighed slightly realizing that as a department head, she was going to have to figure it out sooner rather than later.

As the turbolift arrived on Deck 11, Paris stepped out and moved with speed and confidence to the holodeck entrance, whose route she had studied before setting out this morning. Tapping in her access code, the doors opened and the starfarer of a day gone by stepped into the black room with the yellow grid patterns on the walls. Turning to regard Dox as the doors closed, she smiled patiently. “All up to you now, Lieutenant. How about a little holographic wizardry, eh?”

"Aye, Commander." Melanie replied with a broad and authentic smile and a tone that made the official response sound positively casual, which was something of a minor achievement for the usually uptight pilot.

"Computer. Access program files for Dox, Melanie. Sub-folder, Starship walks. File, U.S.S. Exeter, pre-refit. Location, main saucer, dorsal on hull... 2 meters back from forward running light... and execute." And with that, the black and yellow grid of the holodeck rippled away as from below their feet, the greenish grey hull of a Constitution Class Starship sparkled into existence, seeming to stretch out into the infinity of deep space in all directions around them.

Within an instant, it was if they were standing on the hull of the great starship, although without the need for spacesuits.

Taking in the sight, the eyes of the lost navigator lit up with obvious affection. Melanie had seen that look on the face of the first officer only once before, and she realized with a start that this was how Rita looked at Sonak, he husband who had chased her through space and time and dimensions to reunite with her. That look of love, of genuine heartfelt devotion, was not an expression seen on the lovely lieutenant commander’s face in day today shipboard operations. But having seen a glimpse of her private life, Dox recognized that look now, and to see it for one of her creations definitely warmed her own heart a bit.

Kneeling down, Rita ran her fingers over the skin of the starship, caressing it gently. “Hello, old girl. Remember me?” Paris asked, somewhat nonsensically. This was not ‘her’ Exeter, it wasn’t even the right model for her. But she was a Constitution pre-refit, and she’d been intimately connected with the original Constitution when she had been in this configuration, and nostalgia flooded her at seeing one of the heavy cruisers of her day, particularly like this- a view that no one had ever shared with her previously.

“You’ve done a great job, Miss Dox. The level of detail is superb, and those little details are all where they should be.” Standing, Paris smiled, a surprisingly contented expression. “Color me impressed. So, a little run, then, shall we? I’ll let you set the pace- I was cross-country at the Academy and I run about five kilometers a day, so better if we let you set the pace, right?” It could have been said in an accusatory or conceited manner, but Paris meant it as a kindness- simply put, she was a runner, and she wanted to insure that her subordinate didn’t think she had dragged her out at this hour just to humiliate her or best her, but to share an experience with her.

"Thank you, Commander. I'm glad you like it." Melanie was extremely relieved that her First Officer really seemed to appreciate the program and it made her happy to see Paris happy. It also made her happy to be able to set the pace for the run, since she had already experienced Rita Paris' walking pace and was pretty certain she would end up dying if she had to try and run and talk otherwise.

In spite of her short and fairly plump proportions, Melanie tried to keep in good shape and she benefitted from my mother's athletic DNA even if she had her father's shape. Allowing herself one more quick stretch, she turned to the blond officer and spoke with a slightly nervous chuckle. "Okay. I guess, let's go."

Starting slow, even for her, Melanie wanted to ease into it since talking was also going to be required.

Moving at a shuffling pace, the long-limbed lass took her time, trying to find a way to maintain the slow pace Dox was setting without walking or being insulting. One could not let another set the pace then be a jerk about it, after all. “So how are you settling in? It looks like only a few minor scheduling issues that you learned from right away, and beyond that you’ve managed coverage for all shifts in the department. And before you start worrying, I watch EVERYONE’S reports and rosters and I monitor all of the departments- I’m not just spying on you. One of the reasons I’m glad not to be running Flight Control- I already have a lot on my plate.”

"I can only imagine " Melanie replied, noticing that her initial pace seemed awkward for her long legged First Officer. "I mean, keeping an eye on everything is a big part of being First Officer, I guess." The normal formality Melaine always tried to maintain was reduced as she was splitting her focus between talking and trying to bring the pace up a little.

"So far, there hasn't been anything that's come up that I haven't been able to handle without either a bit of research or asking Ensign Gonadie for her thoughts. There haven't been any noticeable drama I could pick up on." Then, Melanie paused for a moment to think. "I guess, so far, the hardest part is in giving everyone their time. Everyone in the department knows what they're doing just fine so far. But I kinda stress about making sure I am divvying up the duty roster so that everyone gets to log a little flight time. I don't want to short change anyone of their opportunities, I guess."

“That’s good. You take what you learned and saw when you were under and you apply it when you are over, to be fair and eve-handed in the assignments. Well done, Dox,” the first officer smiled as she chuffed along. “You continue to validate my faith in you, and it’s good to see you coming into your own. Wow… look at that bridge profile. They don’t make them like that anymore,” Paris marveled as she took in the sight of the starboard side of the bridge as they ran, which Dox realized she’d chosen to point them to run counter-clockwise.

"I could never connect with the history they taught at the academy until I started programming these. It was just names and dates, even with ship recordings and the like. Even the simulators they had were just these sterile interiors. It was like being on a stage set in a play. But from out here it's easier to... I dunno... Feel her. If that makes any sense." Then Dox looked up as she ran at the projected image of the heavens. "And easier to think... out here."

“I get it, I honestly do. We live inside them, but we so seldom see them from the outside, and they’re just so… majestic,” Paris summed up. “Back when I couldn’t go anywhere and I was all alone on a ship full of people, I used to sit on the hull with my back kind of against deck 2 and watch the stars slide by, back on the Constitution. It probably saved a good chunk of my sanity… I had lost my life and all contact, but she was still there for me, and she still took me places, and I got to see the sights like none of my shipmates… standing out here on the hull.”

While she had been speaking, Paris had stopped paying attention and was now just walking in her long stride alongside the slowly jogging Dox, but it was clear that she was lost in thought, reliving memories long buried from a hundred thirty years ago.

Noticing that Rita had slowed to a walk, Melanie turned around, walking backwards for a moment. Paris' expression seemed to look far past the simulation they were in, to another time, and Melanie thought on the experiences her First Officer had described. Experiences she could scarcely even imagine and struggled to think of something to say. Coming to a stop, Melanie rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, recognizing that while there were light years of differences between their respective lives and experiences, that her seemingly indestructible First Officer had a lot of scars of her own.

"Rita..." Melanie spoke after what felt to her like an eternity, seeing only someone she thought of a a friend hurting. "We can... we don't have to be here... If it's too much. I'm sorry."

Those big blue eyes that were staring off into the distance at something a thousand light years away blinked, then refocused on Melanie Dox.

"Oh... no, it's, it's fine, I just... I remember what it was like. I'd sit up here and scream and rage at the universe, or watch the stars slide by... a lot of that. We fought a few skirmishes and a few full battles. I'd watch on the bridge, then get up on the hull to see the battle in person. That was incredible."

"It was lonely. That was the worst part of it, but there were some things about it that were just... breathtaking. Being out here on the hull brought it all that back for me. Thank you, Miss Dox... Melanie." Paris lit up that million watt smile and started jogging, a few slow steps to give Dox the idea, then moved into a jog. "See, I couldn't do anything to affect the ship or the crew, so I couldn't participate. It left me a spectator, and since I didn't sleep- yeah, when you are energy you don't sleep, so you can never get a respite from input when you can't close your eyes or sleep. Not the best thing, but handy. I read books over people's shoulders, read reports, spied on love affairs. Don't judge- I was a ghost, and I was lonely."

Following Rita's lead, Melaine resumed jogging as well, putting some more effort into keeping a faster pace this time. "No judgement here." Dox chuckled lightly. "I'm sure I wouldn't do any different in similar circumstances. I doubt few people if any would. And..." Melanie paused in thought while she jogged for a moment, hoping she wasn't about to get too sappy or overstep her bounds. "...It probably has something to do with... well... why your really good at being a First Officer. Up or down, you can read people like a book. See situations for what they are like that!" Dox snapped her fingers. " I mean... I can't even imagine what that must've been like. But not being able to do anything but observe everything... you learn everything too."

"That's true," Paris admitted. "Two years in Starfleet Psych taught me a lot about people and their personality quirks and how they operate internally. That's how I know you were shoving me off that first day, and how I knew I had to get through to you if I wanted you to take me seriously." She jogged on in silence for few seconds, then resumed. "Thank you for not judging me, Dox. I'm... a lot better with Sonak here, because he... he understands me and he helps me keep it together. I would manage without him but I would forever be missing a part of me. Literally. I do my best for the ship and crew but... I have my moments, you know? Thank you for understanding. I'm not some invulnerable superwoman who does it all right, I just do the best I can by everyone. And that especially goes for you." Rita smiled at the junior officer.

"You're going to be in my position someday, you know," Rita pointed out gently. "So I have to teach you how to do this, but your way. And I'll help you as much as I can, because I had to do it all alone up to a certain point. With you, I get to comport myself to you how I wish I had been trained and do better... even if I am a hundred and thirty years behind the times. Thanks... thanks for saying that I do okay at it. I don't have anything to measure against except the jackass who was first officer when I got here, but I take it very seriously. It's a responsibility to the ship and to you officers, and I'm determined to do right by you all."

"I... do appreciate the efforts you've put in with me. I think I'd be sitting in my quarters on shuttle duty if you hadn't forced me out. In this morning's case, literally. It's... easier to not take chances on people, and I've not had the best luck in the past when I've tried, so this ship has been like... well... like nothing I've ever expected." As they ran, Dox looked at the path ahead of them and noticed the design of the classic Constitution Class Starship had a minor obstacle. "Computer... Remove the impulse engine platform ahead and restore once we've passed, thank you." Ahead of the duo, the long elevated platform connecting the impulse engines to the rest of the saucer shimmered out of existence, leaving their path unencumbered.

"As for me being in your position... wow. I don't know about that. I mean... I don't." Dox realized she was both blushing and stammering, and recentered herself. "Do you really think that's a possibility? I've never even considered that as a possibility, all things considered."

"Computer, belay that edit," Rita called out, then changed course to go around the bridge extension. It was minor, but she felt it important- one did not magically make obstacles go away, one learned to work around them, although she was not about to berate Dox for it, so much as demonstrate as she did it. "Yes, Lieutenant. If you spend the rest of your career on this boat, much like flight control, it is highly likely you will end up on the command track, and eventually a captaincy of your own. If you end up on another vessel, you will almost certainly rise to this position, and to the big chair." As they jogged alongside the impulse drive extension, the curved to run around the bridge, almost symbolically given the conversation.

"Part of my job is to prepare you for that. Teach you the ins and outs of command, let you make mistakes and correct them for you so that all of the responsibility is not yours yet, so you can learn the job with someone watching over your shoulder. And it is the Captain's job to teach you command, just as she teaches me and the rest of the senior staff. This is what you signed on for, Miss Doc. To one day command one of these beauties." Pausing to gesture up to the rounded command bridge of the anachronism upon which they were jogging, Paris laughed. "Well, hopefully not one of these, but in the universe we live in, you never know, right?"

"I don't know... this ship is a beauty and in a lot of technical ways, a lot more hands on." Dox smiled, thinking about it. "There's a lot to be said for a ship like this. But, I think I know what you mean. It's... honestly... It's intimidating to think about. But I guess intimidating doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"No, intimidating does not have to be a bad thing... that's good way to look at it, Miss Dox. A challenge. For the record, a lot of systems are a lot easier to use in the modern day, but lots of them are more complicated. There's nothing like looking at your tricorder display and realizing you don't know half of what it's scanning. But we adapt and overcome, because that's the Starfleet way, right?" In a few sentences Rita Paris managed to sum up her own difficulties in the modern day, yet still deliver that 'can-do' optimism of her native age. In a way, it represented her to the junior officer in a way no explanation ever could.

"I'm... trying to learn to look at things from a more positive perspective. It's not something that always comes naturally to me, though." Dox replied.

"I know, Dox, and you are making great strides," Paris mugged at her own pun as the jogged the ancient starship's hull amongst the stars. "One step at a time. It's not easy to trust people- but if you give them the chance they can surprise you. Hell, I thought I was trapped in a dystopian future that was nothing but dark motives and that I was in genuine peril. But the Captain figured it out and came clean with me, and trusted me... so that I could trust her. Which led us to where we are today. Trust, Miss Dox... Starfleet extends it, and the Federation benefits from it as worlds come in to join us in that trust. It literally makes the universe work, in an odd sort of way."

"Thanks." Dox replied, a little embarrassed by the compliment, as was usual for her, but it wasn't as awkward as it has been since coming on board. While she was reluctant to admit it to herself, Rita Paris was right and she was getting just a bit more confident with each small victory. It was a thought that re-energized her stride a little as she ran.

"Meanwhile, I'm still going to keep prying at you a little bit here and there. You've figured out that I have your best interests at heart and that I am not setting you up for failure or embarrassment by now I think, and you understand me a bit better. Which is just as important if not moreso than me understanding you." While they had been running, either Paris had stopped paying attention or she was deliberately challenging Melanie, because she had opened up the running speed a bit, and was making tracks around the saucer section. As they ran, Paris stayed on the outside edge of the hull and course corrected Melanie a few times by nudging her shoulder when she was straying closer to the edge.

For her part, Melanie was keeping up the pace, though it was now takkmg a bit more effort for the significantly shorter young lieutenant to do so and maintain a conversation at the same time.

"I can tell you all day long that you can trust me, but you need it proven. Not uncommon. But knowing me as a person and as a superior officer makes that trust a lot easier to come by. So again, lead by example... because someday it will be a junior officer whose trust you will have to earn to help them see the officer they can grow to be someday. That's how it's supposed to work." Rita offered that supermodel smile, which seemed so out of place at the speed they were now running, yet she managed it effortlessly. Which brings me to my next point."

Titling her head slightly as she ran, Melaine was listening intently. She knew enough to not be directly worried by what the leggy commander was about to say, but nonetheless had to qwell her knee-jerk tendency towards anxiety.

"I assigned you the junior officer's quarters on Deck 2 because it was cozy and close to the bridge and convenient. Coming from your last assignment I thought it would be reassuring to you to have larger quarters than you are used to but not too much larger," the buxom blonde bombardier explained. "But now that you have been promoted, the Chief Flight Control quarters on Deck 8 are empty, and by rights belong to you. They are very large- just a little bit smaller than the quarters I am in now, to give you an idea. You are welcome to them if you wish, and they are one of the perks, along with the office. Officer Country is the nickname, because we and the VIP quarters and the captain's table are some of the only things to be found on Deck 8. So... there's that."

And with that, Dox actually lost her stride for one step and almost fell to a stop, startled by the statement. "Wait, what?" she replied as she resumed her run taking a few extra steps at a break out run speed to bring her back up to pace with her first officer.

Now back to running at Rita Paris' side after only the briefest of stumbles, Melaine was staring wide eyes at the hull in front of her as she ran. "The deck 8 crew... h..." She stopped herself mid word, as she was about to exclaim hnaev, a decidedly Romulan expletive, which, Romulan or not, she thought probably wasn't appropriate. "Wow." She said instead. "That's... those are HUGE. But... Oh wow... those have windows, don't they?"

"Great big ones, set in the hull at the edge of the corner where the bulkhead meets the overhead just on the starboard side of fore, about 38 meters from the midline. So you have a view of the fore and above. At warp it can be a little bright to sleep by, but you can darken them with computer control. But when we are at impulse, the view can be spectacular. Not quite standing on the hull spectacular, but pretty darned amazing. Standard orbit never looked so good." It was clear that the old-school officer's enthusiasm was genuine as she spoke, as she painted a picture for the promoted young officer of one of the perks of being a senior staff officer.

Handing over the flight control office had been difficult for Rita, as she had loved the office and the view of the flight deck. But the quarters she had inherited with the job had been a huge surprise to her, and when she'd been forced to upgrade she had lost noting in the bargain- if anything she'd had to expand the size of the rooms and create more dividers to break up the space, to make it seem more manageable to the officer who once upon a time had been impressed with quarters that were 18.5 square meters of space in her senior officer's quarters. That had included no viewport, let alone windows larger than her armspan. Forget about 140 square meters of living space.

With all of that said, Rita gave the compact young officer who, with her mind otherwise engaged, Paris realized was keeping up with her just fine, which brought a smile to the leggy lieutenant's face. It seemed if she could get Dox's mind otherwise occupied, the rest of her didn't understand her fear of failure and lack of self-worth, and she performed according to the demands placed upon her. If she could keep her talking, they should be able to get a 5K in on the hull of the ancient starship this morning, and still have time for a cool-down and a coffee before duty.

Which brought a sense of contentment to the legendary lieutenant commander- while so very much had changed in the decades she had not lived through, and technology had advanced so very far beyond her understanding in so many cases, Starfleet officers were still people, no matter where they came from. Which meant that Rita Paris was nowhere near useless in this high-tech modern age. She owed a debt to these junior officers that she mentored, for helping her feel as though she still belonged. It was a debt she was happy to pay as she watched Melanie Dox process it all in her own time, before she chose her reply to the news.

"The... the ship I grew up on was tiny. Maybe two and a half times the size of a Runabout at best. And my room was practically a closet, but it had a porthole and I spent half the time I was in there staring out it." Melanie smiled with a slightly mischievous grin. "The streaks of light at warp helps me sleep, actually. I've missed the heck out of it." She thought for a moment and chuckled slightly before continuing. "Thank you, of course. I couldn't say no to a room with windows if I tried. Still, that is a lot of space. I need more stuff." Chuckling again. "I came on board with one bag."

“Hey, I came aboard with the clothes on my back,” Rita laughed musically. “So you are one bag up on me. But yes, you have a furniture mass allotment to use, so feel free to decorate however you wish and set your quarters up however suits you. And no need to thank me- it’s a perk of the job, you earned the job, so we owe you the quarters. If anything I am late getting back to you about it, so less thanks and more ‘I finally got around to it’. So enjoy!”

"Not saying thank you when I'm feeling it is something you might have to order me to do." Melanie laughed out as she ran, feeling more relaxed then she had in a while, not even thinking twice about making the admittedly minorest of jokes. "It just doesn't feel right to me NOT to say so. I mean, I thank the replicators, I'm certainly not going to say so to someone who could have told me in a memo instead of like this." Melaine looked up at the simulated space around them, smiling broadly.

“Okay, you got me there. I say please and thank you to the computer, because to me she’s part of the crew. Hell, she's about a million times smarter than me and controls every little detail of shipboard operation. Just seems natural to treat her like part of the crew and offer her a little respect. As for a memo…” Paris paused there, formulating her response. “It just isn’t my style. I prefer to communicate in person, to see the other person’s reaction. I wanted to drag you out for a morning jog and see these amazing programs of yours, which are really quite spectacular. After all, I think it’s only you and I and Dedjoy who like running the hulls. I wanted to see your reaction, and it gives us a chance to talk and catch up. Besides, we’re friends, and friends should always deliver good news in person, right?”

Hearing the word friends dropped so casually and without any hidden meanings attached caught Melanie Dox off guard. But in her short time on board the Hera, she did think of her First Officer as a friend. And not the only friend she'd made so far, thinking of Doctor Dael and Ensign Gonadie as well. Melanie smiled naturally and authentically and responded, "Absolutely. It's the best way I can think of."

"I'm proud of you, Dox. You are going to make one hell of a line officer... just keep following your heart, and let the demons in your head chatter. I won't tell you to ignore them, because sometimes they might be right. But trust your instincts, because they'll usually keep you on the right course and heading. Your natural gift for piloting should do the rest. Now," Paris grinned mischievously, "how about one lap of a race? What do you say?"

Looking the leggy commander, a good foot taller and barely breathing heavy, the short, round Melanie Dox let out a loud laugh. With a broad smile, she shook her head and replied, "You're on."

Laying in her small bed, Melanie Dox looked up at the bluish streaks of light out of her window that filled up space while at warp. She turned over, pulling her thick fleece blanket over her as she curled up tight into a ball and shivered in the cold of her tiny room aboard the smuggling ship, the Forager.

Environmental control rarely worked well while they were at warp, and the cold made it hard for Melanie to sleep. Suddenly, the engines knocked hard and shook her in her bed and the anxious 5 year old girl let out a light gasp. She bolted up in bed, sitting with her knees up close. Nervously, she ran her fingers through her short cropped hair along her ear, rubbing the point at the top of one. Across from her was a small mirror where she could see herself sitting. Her thick hair was mussed from bed as she brushed the v-shaped bangs out of her eyes and her reflection began to vibrate in the mirror.

She looked around the room as the walls began to shake as well. Lightly at first, then harder as the bolts in the bulkhead began to shudder. Melanie let out a yell as one of the bolts shot out across the room with a loud clang. Then another, and another as the mirror across from her fell off the wall and shattered. Above her, the window rattled hard and a thick crack snapped across it. From out in the corridor, she heard a loud bursting sound followed by the screams of her mother. The entire room shook violently as the bulkhead beside her buckled and ripped violently and suddenly from the ship, leaving the open expanse of warp space. Melanie tried to scream as the air was pulled from her tiny lungs and she felt herself ripped from her bed into the void.

Then she opened her eyes.

Laying on her back on board the U.S.S Hera, a 31 year old Melanie Dox woke up. She looked above her at the streaking blue lights of space at warp speed she could now see out of the windows of her new quarters. Sitting up to reorient herself, reality quickly came back to her as the nightmare began to fade slightly from her mind. "Lights, please." She whispered softly.

With a light chirp, the computer of the massive starship complied and light gently filled the room. It was only a week ago that she had been promoted to the position of Chief Flight Control Officer of the Hera and the room she had found herself now in was a benefit of that station. Command crew quarters were positively luxurious by her standards and she looked around her to the bare walls of the room.

It was still hard to believe that this room was hers and she was slightly embarrassed to have so few personal belongings to fill it, making it seem all the emptier. Getting up to walk around and reboot her brain, she walked over to the bathroom and tapped the pad on the wall to turn on the overhead lights. In the mirror was her now long hair tied up in a messy bun and her decidedly human looking ears. She started long at them.

Running a finger over the rounded top, she squinched her face slightly. Melanie Dox was part Romulan on her mother's side, but it was only in her eyes where you could really see it. There were other cues in her complexion, where any time she blushed, her cheeks took on a deep tan color due to the mixed blood in her veins being a deep brown color. But she was sure that her ears had never been pointed, as Romulan ears were. Except in her dreams. Even in dreams that were little more than memories, she had her mother's ears for some reason. It was something she never understood but tried not to think about.

Melanie was raised Romulan for the first 14 years of her life, in spite of her human father trying in vain to reinforce her human side. Her parents argued a lot over the subject for the few years he stuck around, but he left when she was only four. Even now, years later, she could remember the fights. While Melanie looked more human than Romulan, her actual physiology leaned heavily towards her mother's genetic influence and it was a strong point of contention that she believed was a major factor in her parents separating. She remembered her mother being absolutely livid over the extent with which her father tried to erase Melanie's Romulan heritage, but she always refused to go into details with Melanie. Maybe that fueled the dreams, she thought.

As she stared at her reflection, still rubbing her ear, she thought about the nightmare. She had honestly been expecting something like it to disrupt her first night sleeping in her new quarters. It was how her brain worked. The last week had been one of the most positive in her adult life. She was successfully making friends on the Hera. Real friends. And her career as a pilot, which had all but come to a standstill after 6 years stuck at various starbases ferrying cargo back and forth, seemed to be moving as fast as the Hera herself. So, of course her subconscious mind would pick now to mess with her. It wasn't anything new to the young pilot, but it was annoying, nonetheless. And she knew that she needed to clear her mind of it before trying to go back to sleep so she wouldn't fall right back into another one.

Walking out of the bedroom area into the main section of her quarters, Melanie sighed, really feeling how large and bare it was. There was a few pieces of almost generic art of spacescapes that just came with the room. A small couch and a table with two chairs, also parts of the stock decor. On the table, a small rolled out portable keyboard that was the only obvious possession of Melanie's in sight. But more than the room feeling a little too big for her, it felt empty. The first thing she did was unpack the single bag of clothes and uniforms she had brought with her on board, which only took a few minutes. Everything was neatly hung up or folded in the small dresser provided.

She was used to cramped quarters and small rooms. On her last posting, she was even stuck with a roommate that she didn't quite get along with, which wasn't uncommon on remote starbase postings. But so far, the Hera was different. She was making friends for what felt like the first time in forever and finding herself alone in a room that was too big for her at the moment.

She was lonely.

But it was also just past 3 and she had to be up for duty again in a few hours. The last thing she wanted to do was irritate those new friends by seeing if any were awake. She walked over to the replicator and asked for a warm milk. It was something she discovered that she liked while at the academy and it usually helped her sleep, so she took the glass back to her bed and slid back under her blanket. The same fleece blanket she clung to all those years ago that featured prominently in her dream from when it was new, not thin and threadbare. The only thing she had left from the childhood she both hated and missed sometimes.

Sitting in bed, nursing her milk she thought back to the message she had received from her mother a couple of days ago. She got messages about once a month, but she hadn't seen her in person since shortly before her graduation when she was still on Earth, where her Mother lived in protective Starfleet custody. Her mother was a defected Romulan, though believed to be dead by the Empire, and shared secrets about her years working with the unification movement to free Romulus. Her mother was extremely warm in the message, something that was rare for the very stern Romulan.

Since the message, Melanie had been surprised at how much of Rhinnasu, the Romulan language, had come rushing back to her. It was pretty much all that she spoke for almost 15 years. Earlier, Melanie had attended a dinner party in Commander Rita Paris' quarters along with Rita's husband, the Vulcan Science Officer Sonak, and the ships chief Medical Officer, Asa Dael. An El Aurian with an extremely outgoing personality that Melanie found that she really liked. But, when asked about her knowledge of the language, Melanie downplayed her knowledge as it had been over 6 years since she had uttered a word of Romulan, so it was a safe assumption on her part that she would be rusty. She hadn't lied, but she had also learned while on Earth to downplay her knowledge and heritage to the point that it was a knee-jerk reaction to do so. But since the message from her mother, she realized that it was all right there. She found herself bouncing back and forth between English and Rhinnasu in her brain and almost cursed in it while jogging with the First Officer the prior morning, which Romulan or not, she thought better of even if she was off duty.

Even today, she found that she was less ashamed of her Romulan heritage then she was afraid of being judged for it as happened when she was sent to High School on Earth and at her time in the academy. In her head, she didn't believe that Sonak, Asa, or Rita would ever judge her based on it, but the fear was still strong in the back of her mind, affecting her reactions and fueling her insecurities.

Thinking of the friends she was making led her mind down a different path. So far, she liked most everyone she had met on board with the exception of the ships Councilor, Avender Jurot. Melanie had a number of confrontational and required therapy sessions with starfleet councilors after she had been sent to live with her paternal grandparents after the smuggling ship she had been raised on was caught and her parents arrested. She was resentful of her Grandparents. She was resentful of Earth and of being told that it would behoove her to speak English. She knew the language, of course, but she was 15 and acting out. As such, she had since harbored a dislike for therapists and Jurot was a Betazoid on top of everything else. And one that practically bragged about how efficiently she could read Melanie's mind. It put her off almost immediately. She had seen a report from the mission on Meroset that referenced that something significant had happened to the Councilor, but didn't read the full report.

Finishing her milk, she laid back and stared up at the window over her bed at the streaking lights of warp space. The dream stuck in her head. She wondered what it meant? Was she afraid that her new life was going to fall apart like the ship in her nightmare? In reality, the Forager had never fallen apart, but dreams were like that sometimes. Melanie sighed, trying to let her mind wander but she couldn't quite shake it. She tried falling back to sleep, as she knew she had a long day ahead along with a scheduled lunch debriefing with the entire senior staff to discuss the Meroset mission. And, as much as it still surprised her, Melanie was now senior staff as head of the flight control department. After laying there for another half hour staring literally into space, she rolled her eyes and sat back up. It was obvious that she wasn't going to get back to sleep so she decided to take a shower and try and start her day.

Maybe focusing on work would push the nightmare and all of the thoughts lingering as a result from her head. At least she hoped it will, as she rubbed her ear again.

It would appear that Counselor Avender Jurot could not sleep, since she was sending out messages at 03:13 hours. At 05:00 when Rita Paris awoke, she saw the message, and had time to consider it as she started her day. Dressing in the bodysuit that comprised the pressure suit of the EVA armor, the Starfleet siren kissed Sonak on the cheek as she left. The kolinahr master did not offer to accompany the lost navigator, because he knew she desired time apart to process her emotions and plans on her own, which he respected. After all, while they had come together as one, still they were individuals, which was part of their strength.

Five minutes later Rita was suited up in the full MACO EVA armor, her own particular command yellow with the antique starburst pattern on the chest. She still didn't care for the fact that the modern command uniforms were red. Why had they changed it? She loved her gold uniform, and if the new uniforms weren't going to be something to be ashamed of wearing, she was going to have to adapt to the times. Which meant bright red and black for her- no more gold. She was command, and nowadays command wore red.

All of which had nothing to do with her current problem.

"Computer, a realtime representation of Starfleet Academy's running trail please. Other joggers as well, if you would." As the requested terrain materialized in the holosuite, Rita finished her stretches. "Thank you, Computer."

=^= You're welcome, Lieutenant Commander Paris =^=

Running the trail, Rita debated the pros and cons. Confronting Hera might get Jurot some peace of mind. Or it might present more questions than it answered. It might prepare her better for another confrontation with such powers. She might be more sensitive to them now. There were literally millions of possibilities, and they could be good or bad. The facts were immutable, however.

Ensign Jurot wanted to face off with Hera and ask her some questions.

While a potentially dangerous request, it was not an unreasonable request.

It could be very good for Jurot.

Hera was Paris' responsibility, and the more of the crew that she interacted with the harder it was going to be to keep Hera from enacting some mastermind immortal scheme that would leave them all endangered and the Captain looking at one person as the cause, and it wouldn't be Hera.

Rita was also protective of the crew, wanting to shield them from harm, because that was a responsibility of command, drilled into her since the Academy.

Tampering with forces beyond her comprehension bothered Rita.

Offering. She'd made an offering to a goddess.

Right now, the armored avenger was still standing there at the beginning of the trail, ready to press herself and the holographically-reproduced power-assisted armor to cover some ground. Taking the first few experimental steps to adapt to the muscular assists, within seconds Paris was charging up the trail at a superhuman speed. Bringing Hera aboard had been a gamble, but it was because Rita believed that there had to be a better way. She could keep an eye out for treachery, but looking for it in every action was not the way to diplomatically court an ally.

Hopefully Avendar Jurot would learn something that would bring her peace.

Chief Counselor Avendar Jurot lay in her very comfortable bed. Aboard her last assignment, she slept in a cot in a barracks area with other counselors. She wasn't used to this at all. This may be a warship, but it's almost like a civilian luxury cruiser, she thought. The ships clock said it was 04:30. In less than three hours, she would be speaking with a Goddess from Terra's ancient past.

She hadn't slept a wink.



Hera, for her part, had spent the night meditating and contemplating her new surroundings. While they had restricted the movements of her physical form, they had not restricted her astral form. So she was now silently exploring the ship which bore her name as it left the Meroset system, and headed towards its scheduled rendezvous with the Odin's Breath, her soon to be permanent home. She had no way to interact with anything, and she couldn't call her physical body through those static fields around her quarters- not that she would violate the pact that she had agreed to as their prisoner, but she could at least learn a bit more about this fine vessel that was named for her.

And the more she learned, the more she was proud to have been brought low by this ship and crew. It truly lived up to her name in all respects, and through unity proved far stronger than she could have dreamed. Even her personal vessel wouldn't have stood a chance against this starship, and she guessed that if she challenged this Captain Telvan to a game of wits, she might be the one losing.

When she decided to visit the command center of this mighty powerhouse, it was a bit difficult to reach for some reason and when she got there, she found that all the consoles were hidden to her. The people using them could see them, but to her astral form, they were hidden, unlike on the rest of the ship. To think that the Federation had developed such tricks...

Then she saw the Captain. As she stepped onto the bridge she should have been a normal mortal, but there was a double aura around her that compounded the woman to a degree that almost hurt.

Then Enalia Telvan paused in her walk from the turbolift to her ready room and looked up from her PaDD to glare at Hera's astral form.

The shock of what should be a normal mortal doing so, and with such an aura piercing into her shocked Hera out of her meditation, snapping her back into her own body. Panting breathlessly, she reached for a glass of water and drank a little as she tried to get her breath back, her parched lips at least a little refreshed. Just who was the captain of this ship?

Hera knew one thing - she wouldn't dare cross her.



Outside the VIP quarters on deck 8 at 06:52, the minidress-clad Rita Paris paced, a PaDD in her hand and worry on her mind. While she had considered going in first and briefing or trying to reason with Hera to take it easy on the already-rattled counselor, that wasn't giving either woman enough credit. While responsibility weighed heavily on the first officer, she also understood that some things had to be faced without a control element, and she was already being enough of a mother hen by being present for the meeting.

Reminding Goddesses to mind their manners and be gentle with shipmates who had lost a year of their lives to being possessed by another powerful galactic entity was definitely not covered in Diplomacy 101, back in John Gill's class back at the Academy 142 years ago. But Rita was nothing if not adaptable, and she'd see this through, because she'd come to the conclusion that this confrontation was important to Jurot, and she needed to be supported right now. To find some stability underneath her in a universe that had gone a little mad on her.

The two beefy security officers guarding the door watched the gold-clad commander of another age pace, and said nothing. Partially neither wanted to engage the first officer, and partially she looked a bit worked up and neither wanted to engage a conversation with a line officer building up a head of steam. Instead, they waited patiently for her to ask to enter- which wasn't gong to happen until Ensign Jurot arrived.

At 0655, Chief Counselor Avendar Jurot arrived at the door behind which sat a Goddess. She was dressed in her duty uniform, and her face was one of solemn determination. Using what Betazoid gifts she still possessed, she did her best to focus her mind on the Now.

"Thank you for agreeing to accompany me, Commander," Avendar said. "Yet, again, I am in your debt."

"Not in the least, Miss Jurot. Hera is my responsibility while she's aboard, and as a security precaution no one is ever alone with her. Gentlemen, stand to. Authorization Paris, Rita, L-T-C-D-R, 8675309." The door then chimed.

=^= Who is your favorite transformer? =^= the computer inquired.

"Bumblebee," Paris replied, and the computer chirruped once more.

=^= Dual identification process complete =^= the computer reported as the door slid open.

"Gentlemen," Paris nodded to the security officers as she led the way, Jurot close behind.

Hera was sitting in one of the more comfortable chairs, a glass of wine in front of her. Glancing up and seeing Paris and Jurot entering, she smiled and waved to the pair. "It's good to see you again. I see you brought the one that was infested with the sliver of Gaia with you this time. I'm glad you're feeling a bit better. I trust you're no longer screaming in your sleep?"

"Great Hera, thank you for granting me an audience," Jurot said. "I've come to ask you about that very topic: Gaia."

"And reverent too..." Hera was clearly impressed at the small respect that the counselor had paid her. It may have been flattery, but it gave her the slightest bit of energy and she couldn't ignore that so she smiled brightly and offered the two respite. "Please, sit and speak with me. I offer you what meager succor that I have and my ear is yours as I have nothing but time."

"Thank you, Great one. You've indicated that we've met, but I have no memory of that encounter, nor of the fourteen months preceding it," Avendar said, while sitting in a chair several feet from Hera. "I'm told I was possessed by a primordial being, and that you may be able to shed some light on what happened."

"You came before me under the control of one of the progenitors of my people, Gaia. I did my best to remove her sliver... Her mental probe, if you will... From your mind. I suspect that doing so has removed all memories with it." Hera tossed her head back and posed dramatically. "After all, I'm unforgettable and if you forgot our first meeting..." Turning to look back at Jurot, she frowned a bit. "And the fact that you survived speaks to why Gaia chose you. Your constitution and fortitude must be greater than I suspected."

"You flatter me, great Hera," Jurot said. "Apparently, she took total control of me, amplifying my abilities as well. All I remember of our meeting was being your prisoner. Since regaining my body, my Betazoid abilities have been all but eliminated."

Avendar stood. "So, no Hera, the screaming hasn't stopped. I haven't slept in days," she said, trying her best to keep her tone neutral, but failing.

Standing behind the counselor, Paris looked up sharply at that. She knew that the Betazoid counselor was having some trouble, but a lack of sleep for more than one night would lead to psychosis in short order. Which was precisely where no one wanted for her to end up- after having rescued her from Hera’s dungeons, Paris had been keeping an eye on the lost and lonely counselor, but she didn’t realize it was this bad. Hopefully this meeting bore some fruit, otherwise medical intervention was not far off.

But the fulsome first officer would prefer to see Jurot defeat her own demons if she could.

Hera stood as well, motioning for Avendar to come into her embrace. "Come here then, young one. I'll do what I can to sooth your burnt mind. I'm at least partially responsible for this, so it's my responsibility to help in your recovery."

Avendar reflexively jumped backward. She looked at Commander Paris, her eyes searching for guidance.

Pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, Rita Paris sighed. "You're the patron saint of mothers, and this is how you come on to the shellshocked empath?" Paris stepped up next to the counselor, sat down beside her, then made shooing motions at the ancient Grecian entity. "Come on 'goddess', a little decorum. Go siddown. Gwan, have a faint."

Hera, a bit miffed, returned to her seat and sulked a bit, staring out the window.

"So, Counselor. This is Hera, who drove the possessing entity out of your head the first time. She hasn't fought her captivity and she's been pretty beneficent so far. And I won't say this is without risk. But she's likely your best shot at 'unplugging your ears' as it were, honestly." Hopefully she's not doing it to harvest your telepathic energies, which if she is... she doesn't seem that determined to hurt the crew at least as far as I can tell. Guess I can live with that.

Gesturing to the goddess, Paris opened her hands and raised her palms. "It looks like she's sincere and wants to help. The choice is entirely yours, though. If you want to walk out, that's what we'll do. You want to ask her more questions, that's what we'll do. You want to let her try her hoodoo on you, that's what we'll do. This one is your choice, Miss Jurot."

Hera removed Gaia. She may help. But what if she has another motive? What if she's using me as a pawn in her game? Avendar thought.

"Great Hera, I am a counselor. My entire profession is built upon trust- both the trust of the patient in me, as well as my trust in the patient's sincerity. Since the possession, my inborn abilities have been muted," the Betazoid beauty said, sitting down again. "However, I am a Starfleet officer, trained on Betazed and Starfleet Academy to use my mind to help others. Perhaps I have relied too much on my birthright, and not enough on my training and my heart. Maybe it's time I begin to trust myself."

Avendar Jurot smiled. "Thank you for your very generous offer, Great One. However, I will endure and heal on my own."

Hera was still a bit put off, but she relaxed a bit with Avendar's reasoning. "Well, most mental scars do heal best when the patient works through them, after all. I wasn't very gentle when I tore Gaia's sliver from you and burnt it to a crisp though, hence my offer. I'm sure others aboard this magnificent vessel could do the same, if you don't trust me enough."

"And if you want a place to start back with your powers..." Hera turned back to Avendar, more serious. "Your mind has been asleep for over a year. Mortal minds are not made to sleep that long and you haven't had a chance to... Stretch your legs? So to speak, before I burnt you with my powers. As for your lost time, I'm sorry but those memories are gone."

"Well, I respect your decision, Counselor. Taking the hard road is often the most satisfying," Paris observed with a nod of respect. "So, do you have any further questions for Herself here? Anything you'd care to know from the ancient font of wisdom?"

"Yes," Jurot said. "Why would Gaia do this over a year before we encountered you? It seems too random."

"I've been back in this galaxy for over one hundred Merosian years. It took me that long to breed and build up my forces. Do you have any idea how long it takes for a minotaur to reach maturity? The average lifespan of a Merosian was over three hundred years when I met them. Reducing it back to sixty may be one of my regrets..." Hera mused over that one as she stared out the window again. "I know that those that made my return possible, and that are feeding the Titans energy are in the galactic core though, if that helps..."

"And?" Paris chimed in, the supercentenarian Starfleet space gal far less patient and flattering than Jurot, who clearly had a better grip on the situation. "Were you planning to share this knowledge, or was that just to tantalize us and build dramatic tension before the reveal?"

Hera looked back at the pair curiously. "I figured that that would have been one of the first things your intel types would have asked me if you didn't already know, but it wasn't. I assumed you already had an idea of why my people were returning from our long slumber among the aether. It happens to be the same cause. Of course, if you stop that source it won't stop the Titans returning - just more from being woken up."

"Important intelligence to be sure, but Azyek VI is on the other side of the galaxy. Why choose me? Why not say, a Captain or Fleet Admiral. Choosing a counselor on a hospital ship makes no logical sense," Avender said, standing and slowly starting to pace.

"It makes perfect sense," Hera corrected. "You have mental powers that no one else on the crew had and were in a position that could be easily ignored. When you're trying to hide a tree, do you hide it in a temple or do you hide it in a forest? The prior host of the sliver likely saw you as far more advantageous and far less likely to arouse suspicion so took you over."

This would imply she's precognitive, Avender thought.

"How casually cruel," Paris muttered with disdain. "So who's feeding all of this energy and why, Hera? Why are the titans out scouting the universe, and why have your people awakened again? Spell it out for the primitives in the room, if you will."

"That was actually one of the reasons I was building my forces up. My probes never returned. I just know they traced the source back towards the center of the galaxy and... Poof..." Hera pantomimed the poof with her hands, indicating that her probes were literally destroyed. "I'm not sure how much more simply I can spell that out for you. What little knowledge I have is nothing more than a heading from an Argonian Compass of Desire."

"Ah, come again?" Paris asked, unfamiliar with the terminology, which might be mythological or technological. Part of being perennially behind the times was that the antique Starfleet officer in near mint condition seldom understood precisely what was going on- she was just adapting as she went along. "Argonian Compass of Desire?"

"Ah, it's an old compass from myth," Hera waved one hand dismissively. "The simple explanation is that it points to whatever your heart desires most, but that's not important."

"Well, that's where we're headed," Paris offered with no small degree of satisfaction. "So if you have anything else to add, you might want to let us know. Because if we 'poof', so do you."

"Argonian... Argo.... wasn't the Argo a ship in Greek mythology?" Jurot mused.

"I remember Greece quite well... I loved the food there," Here reminisced, completely missing the point. "Rome was nice as well, but the food wasn't quite as memorable. The people were, though. In fact, Poseidon stole my quote that I had emblazoned on my main temple. Stole my minotaur idea too. I did get him back later though. And I guess I did steal a few of his ideas..."

"Hey!" Paris snapped her fingers in front of the goddess' face. "Focus. Remember? Galactic core? All your probes went poof? That's where we are going as we speak? Anything you'd care to add before this particular interview is over?" In her youth, Rita had often had conversations derailed by distractions, as she tried to get answers or make points only to have her father or brother ignore them to wander off on tangents, never actually answering her questions.

Listening the extraterrestrial despot who so casually mentioned reducing the lifespan of the inhabitants of a planet did nothing to endear her to Paris, and she wasn't really in the mood to hear the powerful alien being's travelogue of Ancient Greece. The Counselor had come for answers, and it looked like she'd gotten all she was going to get. Closure was likely to be rather unsatisfying for her in this matter it seemed, but if the USS Hera was headed into danger and the woman on the couch could give them some forewarning, that was entirely too relevant to Paris to let her just conversationally meander.

Hera snapped back to the present, a bit startled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to drift off like that. Whatever destroyed them, all I know is that it was some sort of energy barrier. The probe telemetry was too weak to return anything more than that. Sorry, but if we're heading there now, I can only wish you the best blessings because as much as it pains me to admit it... I don't know what's out there."

"Duly noted," Paris replied, not thoroughly satisfied by the answer, nor trusting it entirely. But it was what they'd gotten, so she would file it in her report and discuss it with the Captain. For now, she refocused on the reason for this meeting, and laid a hand gently on Ensign Jurot's shoulder. "Counselor, I believe we're done here- any final questions you would like to ask before we end this interview?"

"No, Commander" the Betazoid answered. "I should've known that Hera wouldn't know anything. After all, Gaia's power obviously dwarfs hers."

"Fair point." Rising from the couch, Paris ushered the Betazoid beauty to the door. "All right Counselor, let's leave our wayward tyrant to her contemplations, shall we? You and I can seek better company elsewhere, I think."

"Next time a flea asks me about poly-dimensional possession, I'll be sure to go into the science of it," groused Hera as she flopped down on her fainting couch and went back to staring out the windows. "And yes, Gaia is to me as I am to you. Thank you for pointing that out. Next time I'll ask you to teach warp mechanics to an ermine or something... I love ermines..."

While the grousing goddess might have gone on, the rest of it was lost by the closing of the door behind them, as the Starfleet officers left Hera to her ruminations.

Thex didn't want to do this. Having to talk to any lifeforms that a phaser wasn't going to affect and had the ability to create minotaurs terrified her. Well, besides that jellyfish of hers, but he'd never taken over any planets.

Still, she needed to get some answers for the machinery down in the engineering bay, besides after reading Rita's report she'd been curious about a few things. Mainly what a titan had been doing to her girl and the odd holo-programs it had been spitting out. So after getting permission from the captain and dressing in her usual skintight catsuit uniform, she made her way to the guest quarters.

Standing outside the quarters the Andorian breathed in deeply before speaking. "Computer, please unseal VIP quarters 11, authorization Thex 1-3-4-O-G-1-3. Use the same security protocols as Commander Paris, adding my access and questions for my own."

=^= Confirmed, Lieutenant Commander. Access restricted to Captain Telvan, Lieutenant Commander Paris and Lieutenant Commander Thex. =^= the computer replied.

The two security guards at either side of Hera's quarters didn't say anything until Thex had gone inside. After the door closed though, one of them alerted command to what had happened. The second officer and Chief Engineer visiting Hera wasn't out of the question, but anyone doing so alone was certainly against standing orders.

Inside the VIP quarters, Hera was lounging on her fainting couch, plucking at some grapes and munching at them slowly. "Ah, a visitor! And what an interesting shade of blue you are as well! How may I enlighten you today?"

"Thank you. I'm Commander Thex, the chief engineer of this ship. I'm looking for some answers regarding some of the tech you had on the planet as well as something you said to Lieutenant Commander Rita." Thex said politely, but cautiously. Being chased through the vents by a shadow beast had done wonders to make her nervous around creatures that defied the laws of physics.

Hera's interest perked up at the mention of the tech. "What did you happen to find? And what is it that I said that you'd like to ask about?" So far all the meetings and interrogations she had been through had included that Venusian first officer, so Hera wasn't sure if this Chief Engineer was acting alone or with permission. Either way, her curiosity had been piqued.

"A few what appear to be broken weapons and armor, along with an apple of solid gold. The information I'm interested in is in regards of something you said to commander Rita. You mentioned you could sense the ship had passed through a body of a titan recently?" Thex asked as politely as she could. She was doing her best to remain calm, but she was becoming incredibly nervous around the goddess.

"Yes, I did say that." Hera stood from her fainting couch and looked at the blue woman suspiciously, wondering if she too was somehow under the influence of one of the Titans and she hadn't sensed it somehow. "How much do you know about it?"

"Not as much as I'd like. All I know is when the ship was caught in an ion storm, it wrecked my girl like nothing I've seen before. What was unusual was the holomatarix went into overload. It started spawning what appeared to be random hologram programs over the ship. Only they weren't random- there was some intelligence behind them, though I still can't work out any motive it would have had by creating them. We didn't manage to shut off the holomatrix until we were able to escape the storm." Thex calmly explained, hoping the goddess would have some idea of what she was talking about. She may have just said a load of gibberish.

Hera thought she understood most of that and it sounded about how she expected. "I think I understand what you're saying. You want confirmation that that ion storm had an intelligence and was likely controlling your holoemitters to do something like study or kill the crew? Is that it? From what I've felt of this vessel, it has passed through a massive dark energy ionic mass which comprised a Titan's slumbering and forming body. What you likely experienced was the near wakeful dreamstate of the Titan as it interacted with your ship, as you would interact with a petri dish. That's my hypothesis."

Just then, the quarters door opened and in walked Enalia, looking none to happy and though she was in her Starfleet uniform, she stood with the airs of a Pirate Queen. "I had assumed that when I said you could visit Hera, that you'd schedule a meeting with her through either myself or Commander Paris. When I received word that you had added yourself to the authorization list, I almost had security escort you to the brig just in case. I assume you have a good reason for this?"

As soon as the Trill woman entered, Hera could feel the energy in the room turn cold and she almost shrank from the woman's double aura. She maintained her semi-haughty stance, though in her weakened state it sapped at her to do so. For now she said nothing, not wanting to attract the attention of the Captain of this vessel just yet.

Almost jumping out of her skin, the andorian turned to face her captain. "Yes captain, I do. After what was said in the meeting about how a sliver of a titan had been in Jurot, it got me thinking. We know the holo-programs in the ion storm had some intelligence behind them and that got me thinking. If it could have left part of itself behind in Jurot that none of us realized, then what are the chances it could have left part of itself behind in the ship? Then I started thinking some more about if it could do that, then what are the chances it could spread into other programs? There could be slivers hidden everywhere from your family's station to the Federation's communications relays. "

The andorian took a breath before she continued. "I know I should have talked to you or the commander, but if it is possible that part of titan could be hiding in the ship. I'd like to know that for certain, and as quickly as possible, and we only have one expert on titans. Remember how much of a problem the black blood was? And I was planning to remove myself from the authorization list when I was done."

"All very logical... and as the second officer, I suppose some leeway may be allowed." Enalia had to think this over carefully. If what Thex was saying was true, the ship might be infested with whatever had infected Avendar Jurot or one of the crew, and they wouldn't even know it. On top of that, the only one that would be able to tell is the one person they couldn't trust enough to not take over the ship, or worse. Eyeing Hera herself, she wasn't sure if this 'Goddess' was any more or less powerful than Hermes, or just putting on airs.

Hera was doing her best to remain calm, but when the captain focused her gaze on the millennia old being, she felt like she'd been bitten. For a moment it emboldened her, but as weak as she had become, she soon withered so that she could no longer even hold the captain's gaze without looking out the large windows.

The spotted woman looked back to Thex, her gaze softening considerably. "Well, it seems no real harm has been done so far. Policy stands that no one sees Hera alone, but for now we'll let this slide because of the possible... Psionic? Metaphysical? Titan threat. Especially since by all reports Hera has been a model POW. I'll stick around and observe any further questioning though, if you don't mind."

Retreating to the replicator, Enalia punched in a mug of coffee and leaned against the wall there to sip at it.

Feeling slightly relieved that the captain hadn't bitten her head off, Thex let out a slight sigh of relief before continuing. "Yes, that would be perfectly acceptable, captain. So as you were saying, that the holograms were possibly testing us? That does make some sense. Though I still don't get what test results you get by having me beat a group of Orion dancers in a dance-off." Thex said only realizing she had said that last bit out loud after it had left her mouth.

It was at that moment that the doors opened and Lieutenant Commander Paris, her short haircut disheveled, looking as though she had been interrupted in the shower, stormed in. Her standard gold minidress uniform of a long ago era was in place, though it was conspicuously lacking the jet black leggings that usually accompanied it, and for a change her legs were completely bare, marking her as out of uniform. However, the antique phaser in her hand made it abundantly clear that she expected trouble, not the Captain having a cup of coffee while Thex chatted with the goddess prisoner of the USS Hera.

Taking in the scene, the fulsome first officer brought the phaser up to point at the overhead. "I assume there's an explanation I am lacking, and that there is no emergency," Rita Paris asked as her eyes flickered first to the captain, then Thex, then to the now-bemused goddess.

"No emergency, commander. I was just asking our guest about what happened to us in the ion storm and if it's possible for a piece of the titan to have been left in the ship." Thex replied calmly.

Glancing at the Captain, who offered a noncommittal shrug, Paris holstered her phaser in the hidden slit in the right hip of her uniform designed to hold her weapon. "We'll talk about security measures and their reasons later," Paris said meaningfully to the chief engineer, then joined the captain to lean against the replicator, arms crossed beneath her prodigious gold-clad bosom and one eyebrow upraised. "Proceed with your questioning, Miss sh'Zoarhi. What was your last question I likely interrupted?"

"I was asking our guest if the titan was able to leave a piece of itself in the ship like it was able to leave a piece in Ensign Jurot." the andorian said

"And I was trying to be a helpful Goddess by answering truthfully," Hera added, making sure to avoid risk of eye contact with Enalia. She even only had one hand on her hip instead of the normal two.

Enalia shrugged again and punched up a second cup of coffee in the replicator, offering it to Rita. "While security was slightly compromised, I understand Thex's urgency and desire for directness in this. If there's a sliver of a Titan left in the computer listening..." Enalia left the rest unsaid.

Hera, however, did not. "Then it could easily take control of your systems and pervert them. As I am your only way to detect such an influence, I'd like to petition for amnesty and request that I not be transferred to the Norse prison ship 'Odin's Breath' as planned."

Thex swallowed slightly at the goddess words. This decision was way above her grade, but could they really afford not to take this offer? "Well, what do you think, commanders?" she asked Rita and Telvan.

"I think this is a decision that needs to be discussed, and by more than the people in this room," Paris opined. "Captain?"

Enalia didn't have to think on it hard. "I agree. Command will have to discuss it and Odin and his two chickenhawks won't be pleased, to say the least. If it were up to me though, I would be inclined if we had a way to ensure there was no duplicity. Hera is known for her cleverness, after all." While she spoke, she stared daggers into the goddess, trying to take her measure, which made the woman squirm as if she were being tortured.

Looking over at Rita, Enalia continued. "Have you ever heard of the term Geas?"

At the mere mention of the word, Hera's complexion drained. She obviously knew what it was. What she didn't know was how this mortal knew or if she really knew how to complete one or if she knew someone that did.

"Ah... an Irish folklore myth of an obligation or prohibition magically imposed upon a person," Rita spouted out, somewhat surprised that she knew the answer. With a bit of Sonak's katra inside her, sometimes the long-lost lieutenant commander knew answers she'd never learned, though she was surprised that he knew this. But then, given the current state of the galaxy, it stood to reason that he had likely been boning up on Earth mythologies. "So like a magically binding contract that one would use on a magical being to insure a minimum of mischief out of them?"

"And one that would bind her to us, if we can pull it off." Enalia was a bit grim as she continued the explanation. "It has some rather sour side effects though. If you don't complete the Geas, either because you can't, you refuse to, or it's poorly worded so you're unable to, it consumes the person and they die. On top of that, if the person placing it is psionically weaker than the one its being placed on, the one placing it might have it placed on them instead. The science behind it has a lot to do with her psionic realms and I didn't get a very definitive explanation on it. But I think when we rendezvous with the 'Odin's Breath' someone there might be willing to oblige us, if we paid enough."

"I suppose I don't get any say in this?" Hera protested, rather put off that they would even discuss such a revolting matter in front of her, let alone consider it.

Enalia looked back to Hera, her eyes again hard as stone. "For now it's a possible option, and if we're entertaining the possibility of harboring you aboard my starship, we need to explore all possibilities."

Well, at least that was something, the blue andorian thought to herself. Though maybe they wouldn't need to do that. They did have the golden apple after all. Though the andorian knew she really shouldn't mention it. "I'm sure we can find out a solution without putting anyone at risk." She said calmly.

"For the record, I'm against this, Captain," Paris stated firmly, crossing her arms beneath her prodigious bust. "Over the course of her interviews, Hera has grown more evasive and manipulative, and frankly, I don't trust her. I absolutely object to giving her any sort of access to the ship's computer. I have more faith in our people rooting out and dealing with any such influence than giving her a chance to start more mischief. She is an expert on the gods and titans, but as she's grown more comfortable onboard she's showing less motivation to be helpful and demonstrating more motive of pure self-preservation. I say we let the prison ship have her, since she's so cheerfully content to give us half-answers and allusions."

While traditionally Paris leaned toward the 'good cop' role, in this case she had been observing the captive goddess closely and cataloging her behavior patterns. Observe, analyze and deduce were the methods she had been taught. Thus far her observation was that once the shock of her captivity had worn off, Hera began to grow comfortable. The analysis was that she would do whatever it took to not be imprisoned by those who knew how to keep her contained. Thus her deduction was that Hera was taking advantage of this opportunity to seek asylum, and would likely seek a way to turn it to her advantage.

While Enalia was not a mind reader, she was fairly good at reading people and she had a pretty good idea of what Rita was thinking. She also knew Hera's M.O. and between the two, she was inclined to agree. "She may be trying to take advantage of us, and we may be her best hope of freedom, but as a Starfleet Captain I have to take every request for asylum seriously, no matter how many dimensions higher they happen to be to us."

"Thus, if Hera is serious about it, and can prove that she has the USS Hera's best interests in mind to the command staff without a shadow of a doubt..." Enalia's voice hardened even further as she spoke before she suddenly took a one-eighty and smiled sweetly. "Then the request will be considered and may even be approved."

Never one to argue with her captain, Paris kept her arms crossed as she glowered through half-lidded eyes at the captive entity. "That'll take a fair bit of doing. Those shadows of doubt are rather long and impressive. Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi, do you have any further questions at this time?"

"None, commander. I'm sure we could find something for her to help us with," Thex replied calmly.

"Or get along without her- after all, given how her 'help' tends to leave people worse off than when they started, I think we're finished. Captain?" the gold-clad commander turned an inquisitive eye toward the commanding officer. "Are we done here?"

Enalia nodded and glanced back at Rita before heading towards the door. "Yeah, I think we're done here. We rendezvous with the 'Odin's Breath' tomorrow, so we'll discuss this further with the captain of that ship and proceed from there." With that, she unsealed the door and walked out. On the outside, she leaned against a corridor wall and sighed. Not only had they fallen victim to Kirk's Fallacy and had all the top ranking officers in the same room as a possible homicidal alien, but that alien asked for asylum for likely selfish reasons and likely disastrous results. At least Hera, even in her weakened state, lived up to her myths.

Thex let out a sigh as she leaned back against the wall. That could have probably gone better. Still, before she could forget. "Computer, remove Commander Thex authorization to guest quarters, access code 1-3-4-O-G-1-3," she said to the computer which gave a simple =^= Confirmed =^= in reply.

"All right. Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi, please see if you can find any trace of lingering infestation- coordinate with Lieutenant Sonak to insure the ship's computer is free from all traces, preferably sooner than later," Paris ordered. "I want security on those recovered artifacts, and I'd prefer if no one decides to suddenly begin experimenting with them until we know more about them. So I'd like to see some in-depth scans and timelapse studies. Again, coordinate with the science department, please. Captain, anything to add?"

"El-Aurians are known to have a sort of sixth sense about things, right? Ask Doctor Dael if they'll accept a patient whose mass is over three point three million tonnes. Other than that, I think we're better off trying to rely on our own strengths first." Enalia nodded before giving her signature lopsided grin.

"Let's get to it, then."

On the lengthy list of 'things Rita Paris was getting to', looking into her new office had thus far been remarkably low on that priority list.

While the official manifest had listed the office of the executive officer on Deck 1, opposite the Captain's Ready Room, Captain Telvan had indicated to her recently promoted first officer that in point of fact, her office was on Deck 2. Having ceded the Deck 4 Flight Control office to the new Chief Flight Control Officer, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris now found herself needing somewhere to sit down in peace and get some work done.

Of course, she could just work out of her expansive quarters- after all, even with both she and Sonak cohabiting in them, they were still so large that she had a home office set up, and would have set up a lab as well had not her logical mate stopped her by pointing out that it was both against regulations and unsafe.

Instead, she would need somewhere for senior staff and junior officers to seek her out, to discuss issues in private, and to get some work done away from the Bridge. While so very much had changed in the thirteen decades she had missed, Starfleet's paperwork really hadn't changed all that much, there was just a little more of it. A few weeks of working on it had established patterns for her, and now the retro throwback officer was casually confident about keeping the mighty starship running smoothly for her captain. When she had been second officer of the Exeter it had been her job, as overseen by Sonak as first officer; he had given her more responsibility and taught her how to do the First Officer's job, just as she had requested. Which came in handy now that she was first, and though out of time, she could still do the job handily.

Another thing to add to the list for her to thank her logical mate. Which brought a smile to her face... Sonak was a one of a kind, and few and far between were the senior officers who would devote the time and energy to training their subordinates to do the jobs of their superiors, without ego or pride getting in the way. Yet here they both were, in the far-flung future, and she was prepared for the position in which she found herself all because he had been such a patient and willing teacher. Sighing cheerfully at the thought of her remarkable grey-eyed spouse, she stood outside the door to her new office, tapping in her access code to unlock the door and see what lay beyond.

The second deck of a starship was, by tradition, not very large. After all, the first few decks were always smaller on the saucer sections of Starfleet starships- that hadn't changed. But given that the sheer size of the starships had increased so drastically, there was just a huge amount of space available all over the ship. So when she had been assigning junior officer's quarters on Deck 2, Rita had been surprised at how roomy they had been- easily twice the size of her old quarters on a Constitution class starship, if not three times. Which did not quite prepare her for the sight that awaited her as the door whooshed open.

The open space was well lit, of course- unless otherwise requested, the entirety of the Hera remained well lit when hatches were opened. Deep blue carpeting created an accent to white bulkheads and overhead, with a desk that was surprisingly about the size of the table she used to use for a desk back on the USS Exeter, where she had taken over a conference room on Deck 3 to use as her office. But what really caught her eye was the spectacular forward view of the Hera.

Stepping into the office and making her way around the desk to the wide viewport, the dark pearlescent hull was visible, spreading out and down, even as in the distance she could see the call letters illuminated. It was one of the few places in which the Hera was externally lit, as she was rigged for stealth and low visibility. But to have a smaller version of the main viewscreen's vista available to her in her office made the sailor of the stars smile broadly as her fingers lightly caressed the transparent aluminum.

"Hell of a view," she muttered to herself, taking in the empty office. Bringing up her omnipresent PaDD, Rita began filling out the requisition forms to recycle the desk that was already here, and the chair wasn't much to her liking, either. She suspected it was a leftover from her predecessor, who had considerably different anatomical needs than she did. Instead, the odd triangular conference table from her old office was still on file in the archives, and she requested that be installed as her desk. Some cabinet units underneath the desk would give her storage, and as she considered placement, she decided that her desk would be located on the port side of the office. Rita had no use for the grand vista behind her to impress her subordinates and create an aura of command. Instead, she would prefer to be able to look over and take in the sight herself, as would those sitting opposite her.

The bare walls made her sigh, as she considered just what to do there. A portrait of the classic USS Constitution, NCC 1700 would definitely have to go on the walls, as well as an image of the USS Exeter refit, which, while not the configuration of her old posting, was close enough for this timeline, and would still represent memories of days gone by. An image of the Hera would be nice as well, she reasoned- after all, if she was decorating the walls with the loves of her past, she could do just the same with the starship that currently held her heart. Looking around, she realized that she wanted a photo of the senior staff for her office, and resolved that she'd have to get a print made of the image she'd forced everyone to pose for during the debriefing.

"Sentimental to a fault, Rita," she muttered to herself. But then, the places she had been and the people she had known were vastly important to her. In almost every case those memories were all that she had left of them, and having reminders of them in eyesight were mementos, touchstones to the past which made her who she was today. Scrolling through some options, she found the familiar image of Admiral Archer that had graced the walls of her spaces since she'd received it from him when she was a child. This one would not be autographed to her, of course, but it would always remind her of the kindly old admiral who had not laughed at the young girl who, at the age of eight years old, had plainly stated her ambition to someday command a starship.

Bringing up an image of a dashing young James T. Kirk, clad in command gold and holding his chin as he sat in his command chair on the bridge of the Enterprise looking supremely smug, she chuckled. Classmates at the Academy, they had never been close, but she'd known the man, and owed him for helping her graduate. This Jim Kirk was a different fellow, but those eyes and that smile were the ones she remembered, and given that he was one of the most famous historical personages of her age, she may as well hang him on the wall as well. Then she sought out an image of Ambassador Spock, and added him to the list. After all, without him, Sonak would never have managed to find her again, and she owed the old Vulcan as much of a debt as Kirk.

A viewscreen would be needed, she reasoned, and she could use it to display a map of the known universe according to the modern day. After all, she didn't want all of her decor to be echoes of the past. The present and the future were just as important. That would go on the wall opposite her desk, she reasoned, so that she could see and use it even as she illustrated points to others in briefings.

Chairs. She would need a few chairs, and given how often she had ended up on the couch in the captain's ready room, a couch was not outside the realm of possibility. Selecting a few modern chairs for the other side of the desk that looked comfortable, for herself she chose one of the antiquated formed plastic chairs of her era. After all, she had spent literally years of her life with her rounded rear in one of those chairs, and while the modern equivalents were far more ergonomic and comfortable, it was familiar to her, thus comforting.

Shelves. Behind her desk, she wanted some shelves- someday she might get some books, or models or perhaps she would finally make good on her threat to start producing the Rita Paris Action Figure line. That thought made her giggle as she stepped out into the hallway to enter the requisition. After all, if the quartermaster was going to beam out her old furniture and beam in the new items, Rita was not about to be anywhere near. Strolling to the aft, she listened for the hum of the cargo transporters and felt the hairs on her forearm rise in goosebumps as it happened. While the transporter might or might not be out to get her any more, she was still taking no chances.

When she was sure the coast was clear again, the sentimental starship siren entered her renovated office, more content with the configuration and arrangement now. Nodding with satisfaction, she stepped behind her desk and lowered herself into the chair, familiar and comforting to her as the odd triangular conference table. As she breathed in, then sighed contentedly, the extradimensional explorer set about bringing up her many looks through the years.

Ensign Rita, in her 2256 red minidress when she was relegated to being a communications officer, perched in her seat with the receiver stuck in her ear. Lieutenant Rita, in her gold minidress, complete with vintage tricorder and phaser. That in turn caused her to bring up a Sonak bearing a tricorder, in his traditional blue tunic and black pants and boots. Not very dissimilar to his modern uniform, but still something she would place next to herself were she creating a diorama of the period. Which she appeared to be doing just that. Ghost Rita in translucent blue plastic, trying to work a solid engineering panel. Wreck-It Rita, in her Sergeant Calhoun armour and BFG. Gold Armoured Planetary Liberation Rita with her TRC-116C2 in hand. Lieutenant Commander Rita in the big chair on the bridge of the Hera.

Idly, she brought up a version of herself in one of those new proposed uniforms, and put herself in one of the red minidresses with the black skirt, and no ribbons on her sleeve, just pips on her collar.

"Maybe..." she muttered to herself as she sent the commands to the replicator, then began removing them as the replicator fabricated the poseable action figures, one after another. Eventually she stood, eyeing the blonde in the red uniform, noticing that the computer had made a mistake, and given the proposed new uniform three pips instead of two and a half. Glancing up at the overhead, Rita Paris smirked. "Trying to tell me something...?"

The USS Hera did not answer. But then, it hadn't been a formal question, either...

The USS Hera had left Meroset 347 a few days ago, Hera herself was behaving very well, all the reports were in, Command was happy, and the last of the details that needed to be handled had been handed over to the crew of the USS Forthright. Enalia couldn't have asked for a better mission wrap-up. Hence, she decided to hold a different sort of debriefing at the recommendation of her first officer.

At 1100, they were having a catered luncheon in the officer's mess where they would hold a semi-informal debriefing. Maica would be the hostess and Enalia and Rita would be the ones doing the debriefing. They just needed the senior staff to show up to the auto-scheduled and mandatory event.

Enalia entered the officer's mess early to make sure the catering was ready and slipped her arms around her wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she stirred one of the soup pots. "Chinese with a Trill twist buffet? I think I fall in love with you more every day."

Maica pressed back into Enalia, enjoying the contact. "Then you'll really enjoy the drink bar. I have spice tea, latte, and vegetable broth for hot drinks and water, fruit punch, and sweet tea for cold drinks."

"You know exactly what the crew and I love," the spotted captain purred, tightening the embrace.

"Fried rice, jalapeno shrimp and pork lo mien. I'm in heaven before I even check the potstickers and dumplings. Oh, and California rolls- you get me!" Rita Paris grinned, the first officer cheered by the unfamiliar but welcome sight of a Chinese buffet. "Okay, I am going to pick at the food through the meal, then when the crew are gone I am going to attack this like I'm a Klingon and that buffet insulted my honor."

Splitting apart and blushing like mad, both Enalia and Maica looked off in different directions. Maica resumed tending the buffet and prepping it for the luncheon while Enalia made her way over to Rita. "Ah... I didn't hear you come in," she said as she glanced to the pair of rather large and semi-ornate double doors.

"Got here two minutes ago cap'n, been going over reports," Paris held up the PaDD that seemed to be an extension of her left hand during shipboard life. "Was just minding my P's and Q's but I figured you might not want the crew to catch you canoodling with the wife, so I figured an enthusiastic tension breaker might do the trick."

"Really, I am super psyched about this buffet. I am going to eat enough to put me into a food coma. I haven't had good Chinese food since the last time I was on Earth, what... jeez, it was three years ago? Or a hundred and thirty, depending on your math. But spring rolls! Seaweed salad! Crab Rangoon!" It was clear that the enthusiasm wasn't all feigned. This was complex cuisine of her world that Rita might make one of successfully but not all at once on a buffet like this, and she was very excited by the prospect of a meal that revisited home for her.

Maica finished with her prepwork and joined the two. "And sweet and sour soup! None of it is replicated, either. Some of the ingredients are from Trill, but you'll probably never know it. As for vegetarian dishes, anything with meat is clearly labeled, so there should be no worries there."

"And that's another reason I love you more and more. Always thinking ahead." Taking Maica's hand, Enalia gave her wife a quick kiss, her smile matching the green skinned woman's.

"It looks spectacular- without having sampled anything, I will thank you in advance! And I think I might be pescatarian to have some shrimp fried rice. So, food aside, you said we're debriefing? You just want to hear their perspectives, report in 100 words or less I am guessing, elaborations where you call for them? I'm to keep it going while you probe and call on the officers?" Leave it to Rita to flip from talk of food to business, casually outlining the plan so she would understand the captain's expectations.

"That's the plan. Some of you on the planet nearly died while up here on the ship some of our worst injuries include a fractured toe and a plasma burn to the face and while I have all the reports, I'd like to hear everyone's take on what happened personally in a semi-formal setting. As for the food..." Here Enalia grinned as she swept one hand over the buffet. "A crew bonds over combat and food. Here we have stories of what happened and masterfully prepared delicacies. A winning combination, wouldn't you say?"

"Keeping booze out of the equation keeps feet out of mouths a lot more, so I'd say you've nailed it, ma'am." Checking the room to insure they were still alone, Paris spoke conspiratorially, quick and low. "The short form before any of them report in- they seem to be all right. They were all brave, they all did their best and they did good work down there. I think there are a few scars, but time heals and all of that. The Counselor seems to be more of a counselor, so that might be a boon. I've convinced her to stick around, because as you pointed out, we do need one. Not everyone has someone to come home to who helps them process it all and put it into perspective. But they're a good crew, and they're learning to trust one another."

Enalia smiled as she wrapped an arm around Rita's shoulder and maneuvered her around to the start of the buffet. "Please, I think we know each other well enough. You can drop the formalities when no one is around. You do know my first name, right? As for the crew, I agree. Less than a hundred are married and fewer than that have their families aboard. We need competent counseling now more than ever."

"Ah, it's... kind of a thing with me. Yes, I know your name, Captain... oh, so this is how it feels for the junior officers, eh? Right. Well... Enalia." Rita tried it out, then shook her head and chuckled. "You know, when Michael Stuart introduced himself he told me to call him Michael. And I was never uncomfortable doing so. I think part of that was because I taught him so much of what it was to command. So he was more a peer to me in my eyes, though I always respected the rank."

"You, a little different. You know what you're doing. I learn from you, not the other way round. I mean, I did learn from Stuart- boy did he love an impassioned speech. But you're... you are really one hell of a starship captain, Enalia Telvin. I'll use your first name when it's appropriate, but you're the Captain, and generally you'll be that or ma'am. It's a respect thing, Enalia, if you don't mind?"

Enalia grinned widely as she gave Rita a pat on the back and headed towards the door. "Well it's better than princess, queen, or your highness, isn't it? Now, you load up a plate and I'm going to make sure that door's unlocked." As she approached the officer's mess doors they opened easily at a press of a button, proving that they were already unlocked and ready for the invitees. They just needed the senior staff to arrive now.

As was his habit, Sonak arrived at exactly the appointed time, the door whooshing open as would the fist bell of clock announcing it. He raised an eyebrow at the bewildering variety of aromas filling up the room and noticed immediately the well labeled dishes of the Human meal tradition called a buffet. On Vulcan, no one served no one and therefore the buffet-defining practice of serving oneself was quite natural to him.

But what was more important was his duty to his commanding officer. And so he pointedly ignored the food display and, nodding in passing to Maica and Rita, went straight to her.

"Lieutenant Sonak, reporting as ordered, Captain."

Enalia smiled politely, pointedly aware of how important protocol was to Vulcans in general and to Sonak specifically. This was likely going to be a different experience for him, however. Nodding in greeting, the spotted captain steepled her fingers in front of her. "It is pleasing as always to see you, Lieutenant. This is a semi-informal luncheon debriefing though, so please help yourself to some food and drink and once everyone is here, we'll trade stories about this last mission as a form of debriefing."

"Thank you Captain. This is not a format I am much accustomed with, but I shall certainly appreciate it nonetheless. Much effort has been put into this. I shall do my best to honor it," the Vulcan scientist offered.

Meanwhile, in the corridor Melanie Dox made her way towards the Officer's Mess somewhat anxiously. The young pilot always ran nervous and this was her first debriefing to the Captain as the Chief Flight Control Officer since her recent promotion to that position. In her hands, she was clutching a PaDD with her written notes to refer to and to be able to take notes if necessary. She could hear people talking inside, so she quickly tugged down on the front of her uniform, took a deep breath, and stepped in.

Captain Telvan, Commander Paris and Lieutenant Sonak were already visible when she entered the room, as was the impressive buffet and the tone confused Dox a little. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox reporting. Reporting as ordered, Captain."

As always, while Melanie was perfectly comfortable at the helm of a Starship, she was equally as nervous at both official and casual interpersonal encounters.

Guiding Sonak and now Melanie over to the start of the buffet line, Enalia shook her head. "This is semi-formal. Don't worry about reporting. Grab some food and have a seat and we'll talk once everyone is here, okay?"

Maica was behind the buffet line, making sure everything was properly tended as she called out. "And if you need any help with any of the food, please let me know, okay? The dishes with meat are marked so vegetarians know what's safe and nothing is replicated either. If you need anything special, just let me know and I'll do my best!"

"A thoughtful attention," the Vulcan acknowledged. "I am grateful."

He stepped aside and waited for all the invited officers to come and serve themselves first. Although the newly-minted science chief of the Hera, Sonak was still a Lieutenant; regardless of the casual intent of this meeting, it was simple courtesy to let senior officers have first pick of the food. And since he was effortlessly able to go several days without food, this was not even a mere bother for him. And it allowed him an opportunity to better know his new crewmates and fellow officers, most of which he had barely seen since his arrival, not so long ago.

The andorian engineer was next into the room. She had had to stop and change after helping to clean up some spilled gel packs down on the bottom of the ship. Her hair was still slightly damp from the shower through the rest of her was still presentable. "Lieutenant Commander Thex reporting ma'am," she said as she stepped into the room.

Avendar Jurot took a deep breath, then exhaled quietly before entering. She'd never been to the Officer's Mess, and would be meeting many of these officers for the first time in her memory. Based upon what she'd seen and read, she was certain some of these officers would have a very negative opinion of her. She couldn't blame them- she disliked the woman in those reports as well.

Well, I may as well go in. Standing out in the hallway wasn't in my orders.

The Betazoid beauty entered the room, saw the Captain, and said "Chief Counselor Ensign Avendar Jurot reporting as ordered, Captain."

Enalia turned to Rita, her smile starting to crack a little. "Did I word the invite wrong? Is that why everyone is reporting?" She then turned back to Thex and Avendar and refreshed her smile with a deep breath, motioning for them to head towards the buffet. "Please, help yourself to some food first. This is a luncheon debriefing so once everyone is here, we'll start."

"Yes Captain. Thank you, ma'am," the Betazoid replied. She then went to the back of the line, and awaited her turn. Her remaining empathetic abilities picked up a spectrum of emotions; none of them negative so far. There was something else as well- something at the edge of her senses.

Looking over the selection of food in front of her, Melanie Dox wished the energetic Doctor had already been there, as she was certain that they would be describing half the delicious items available in mouth watering detail. But Dox's knowledge of the menu was limited and she was going to have to choose with her nose. Still, she glanced to the back of the line to see if Asa had arrived and instead caught sight of the ships Councilor.

The meeting with Avendar Jurot was the one encounter that Dox felt had gone truly poorly. She had been extremely defensive of the Betazoid councilor, and had felt uncomfortable and vaguely threatened the whole time. Dox had heard that something had happened with her on the planet, but was unaware of the details and her stomach tightened back up. Doing her best to try and bring her focus back to the buffet, Dox grabbed what was in front of her, two spring rolls and some chicken with broccoli and went to find a seat.

Thex had begun to help herself to a small selection of the food and helped herself to a drink. "Nice to see you again Maica. How are the squids doing?" She asked the Orion bombshell.

"They're doing well. Thanks for asking." Maica smiled brightly as she adjusted one of the warming trays. "After that last mission I have a few extra adventurous clients, so they might gain a little weight, though. How have you been?"

"I've been well. Trying to work out how to get the nanites to work, keeping the ship working and working on my dancing. It's a nice selection you've put on here," replied the andorian.

Alex and Seregon slowly made their way to the Officers mess. French was still very sore from the beating she had taken, and feeling just a bit embarrassed with her performance or lack thereof. "Are you sure we need to be here for this?" asked French

"Well I'm sure if you had asked to miss out everyone would understand. You took a massive pounding down there." Replied Alex

"And yet again, you were there to save the day." She said looking him square in the eyes.

"Hey, that's my mine job, keeping you alive. I'm cool with it. Plus, who loves you baby?" He said with a chuckle.

"You jerk. I love you too!" Seregon said in response, as she grabbed his shoulder and pushed on toward the door to the officers mess. As they entered, people looked up. They both nodded and announced their presence.

"Captain, Security present and accounted for!" Announced Alex and they saw a table they liked and headed in that direction.

“Doc Dael has informed me that they are a bit tied up and they’ll be making a late entrance. Lieutenant Dauntless is currently on assignment, and Chief Clemens has also indicated that he’s running late, something about an Intel briefing that is time sensitive. So the senior staff is almost all assembled.” At that, Paris offered a meaningful glance to Lieutenant Sexton, who was not a member of the senior staff, and had apparently missed the captain’s intention and her expression of disapproval upon his arrival at the meeting.

The looks of disapproval did not go unnoticed. By the time they made it to the table, Alex turned to French and excused himself. "Ok, you're here now, and I don't think I'm supposed to be, so call me when you're done and I'll come back and help you to your room," said Alex

Seregon just looked on with a slightly pissed off look on her face, but she understood. "Yeah, ok see you afterwards!" And she slumped back in her chair as Alex nodded to the first officer and took his leave.

Said first officer gave a conciliatory nod of appreciation to Sexton, in recognition of her trying to be subtle, and it succeeding. Leave it to the investigator to pick up on the subtle clues.

Counselor Jurot selected a few items she'd never tried, and found a seat at a table away from the others. She felt the closeness of the others, and some negative feelings from some. She sat waiting for the briefing to begin.

Catching the counselor's eye, Paris silently beckoned in a 'come join us' motion. The Betazoid was isolated enough already- she needed to feel included by the senior staff at the very least, and this meeting was in part to help cement better communication between the department heads. Rita tried to offer an encouraging expression without being too overt.

The counselor stood, then brought her plate to sit across from Paris.

"You're an officer, and senior staff, Ensign Jurot," the gold-clad commander said quietly. "You belong here, even if you are meeting a lot of these people for the first time. Maybe you should introduce yourself, and you can meet your shipmates, aye?"

"Aye aye, Commander," Avendar said, smiling a little.

Alex stood outside the entrance for a few moments. long enough to see Avender. She looked a bit sheepish to him, like she was having a bit of bother finding her way back. He would have to do something about that! He thought to himself and headed off about his planning.

French watched and listened. She had talked to Alex about what had transpired with Avender. She knew how he was beginning to feel about her. French, In her present still tender disposition, waited for a food service specialist to make eye contact and she waved her over.

"Could you put something together for me and bring it over please, I'm still very sore." Asked French. Maica agreed and sorted out a plate for her.

Within only a couple minutes, she had a plate piled high with goodies and a cup of each sweet and sour soup and sweet tea placed before Lieutenant French. "If you need anything else, please just let me know, ok?" French nodded, and Maica walked away.

The Betazoid beauty looked around the table and smiled. "Hello, everyone. I'm Chief Counselor Ensign Avendar Jurot- the real me this time!" she said.

“For those of you who have not read the report, the Ensign Jurot we had aboard previously was not the ‘true’ Avendar Jurot. Thus she is actually meeting most of you for the first time today. So if you would be so kind as to introduce yourselves?” Rita Paris explained, realizing what the quizzical expressions of the senior staff meant.

Enalia set her plate down at the head of the table and poked Rita in the ribs. "You stole my thunder. Oh well. Probably better coming from you than me anyway," she muttered to Rita before turning to the rest of the assembled department heads. "How about I go first then? I'm Captain Enalia Telvan. You came highly recommended at your last assignment and you were up for reassignment and we're in desperate need of a good counselor to head up our small department, so I put in a request that you be transferred in. It seems we got more than we bargained for though. It's a pleasure finally meeting the real you, though. And welcome aboard. Again."

"Greetings, Counselor," Sonak answered in his usual deadpan tone.

Thex was feeling slightly confused. She hadn't talked to the council much and had no idea what was going on, but offered a warm smile anyway. "It's nice to have you with us Avendar," she said politely.

“The Andorian gal here is Chief Engineer Lieutenant Commander Thex sh’Zoarhi,” Paris offered, filling in the social gaps for the ship’s counselor. "That's Chief Science Officer Sonak over there offering greetings." With that said, Paris looked around the room meaningfully at the rest of the senior staff, her order to introduce themselves unspoken but abundantly clear.

"If you need anything fixed just let me know." Thex replied politely.

Looking at the Councilor, Melanie Dox realized what that while Jurot looked the same, this was a completely different person then the one she had met. Her mannerisms, tone and body language were completely new to Melanie and also very familiar at the same time, as Dox didn't need empathic powers to see how anxious the Betazoid seemed to be.

"Uh... Hello. I'm... my name is Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox. Flight Control. It's nice to meet you... For real." Dox smiled, somewhat awkwardly but authentically.

"Thank you for welcoming me," Avender said. "I apologize for anything that happened when... before." She smiled.

Slightly embarrassed, Melanie's cheeks blushed a warm tan color as she thought of their first meeting, but she smiled warmly. "Absolutely. I was... not at my best either, Councilor. So I'm happy for a second chance to make a good first impression."

French smiled and continued eating! This was information she would need to pass on to Alex. Had he fallen for an imposter? She thought to herself.

Sonak in turn acknowledged her.

"We did not have yet the opportunity to meet, Counselor. Considering my nature and your primary function, I estimate we might not have much professional interactions; nevertheless your role aboard is certainly as essential as mine. I look forward to any opportunity we may eventually have to work together."

"Thank you, lieutenant. I look forward to that as well," the counselor said.

"That's Lieutenant French, Chief Security Officer over there stuffing her face, Counselor," Paris indicated the surly redhead with a gesture. "Her assistant chief was Lieutenant Sexton, who saw her in and I am sure you'll meet again. I guess I'll introduce anyone else as they arrive, since apparently personal introductions went out of style back in my day."

Around this time Doctor Asa Dael came into the room with their customary grin. Not wanting to interrupt, they made their way to the food line and piled their plate improbably high with a bit of everything, and double helpings of dumplings and wontons. After grabbing a glass of punch, Asa sat at the available seat near Dox.

Not wanting to interrupt the proceedings, Dox simply turned and gave the doctor a slight head non and a smile, as the two were already acquainted and Melaine felt were quite possibly becoming friends.

Once there was a lull, Asa grinned broadly and greeted the group, “Sorry to be late, had to check on a patient, and the EMH was getting a bit impatient with me to complete a follow up of my own. Hey, Counselor! Good to see you! You are looking well!” The young doctor, greeting completed, resumed eating a voracious pace. The physical healing from the mission, combined with the psychic healing from their encounter with Hera had left Asa ravenous constantly. The food was exquisite though, and they would likely have consumed it at a similar pace even without the physical necessity.

"Counselor, this is Lieutenant Junior Grade Asa Dael, Chief Medical Officer," Paris introduced. By now she had gotten used to the fact that her antiquated custom wasn't flying so well- besides, the young doctor had missed the explanation. Time to replay it again. "Doc, the Counselor we met previously wasn't the real Counselor Jurot, so this is your first meeting, to her. Complicated, I know, but a lot worse for her. So help her out a bit, eh?"

Asa's ears turned beet red as they took on an embarrassed look. "Oh, wow, ok, um, sorry about that. Of course, pleased to meet you Counselor Jurot. I look forward to getting to know the real you," they said.

"You met the real me in sickbay, Doctor," Avender said. "I'm glad to see you've recovered so well!" She smiled.

Enalia was happy with how things were going and though a couple people were still missing, she figured now was as good a time as any to get things started so she stood and announced herself. "So there's an old pirate tradition that my family has followed for generations now. Once all the reports have been filed and everyone is no longer at risk of dying, the senior crew share a meal, get drunk, and swap stories about the latest... Mission. I was hoping that bringing a little of that could help bring us together as not only a crew, but as a family. Don't think of this as so much a debriefing, but as a chance to embellish the details of those reports and gloat a bit, or maybe talk up the actions of those you went out with."

Raising her own cup of vegetable broth, Enalia grinned brightly. "This may be a bit more awkward since I decided to forego the alcohol, but does anyone want to go first?"

For her part, Paris looked around to see if anyone was going to volunteer to go first, and marveling at how what was supposed to be a casual debriefing was like pulling teeth with the senior staff.

Noticing the first officer's searching look, Melanie Dox felt her stomach tighten up again and took a sip of the cup of fruit punch she had grabbed from the buffet while nervously rubbing her fingers over the top of one ear. She had only been the chief of the flight Control department for a few days and wasn't during the Meroset 347 mission. But if she was going to do the job, briefings were a part of that, casual of not, even though she desperately did not want to be the first person to go.

"Well... Um..." She scanned the table while she talked, hoping to not have talked out of turn. "It was my first mission on board... and so my only frame of reference other than the ships logs that I'm getting caught up on, but Ensign Gonadie's flight control modifications we're... I don't think I'd have been able to perform half of the maneuvers at the helm with a standard interface. We were able to make it through the engagements with the chariots with the most minor of damage to the shields." Melanie coughed slightly. "Since... Taking over the department... pardon... I've had a few meetings with Ensign Gonadie to review the other projects on her desk and I'm really excited about the ideas she has. Stuff that I think are going to dramatically improve the Hera's flight systems and then some."

Dox turned from the group as a whole to look directly to the Captain with whom she had had little real interaction. She was characteristically nervous but pushed forward. "I'm... actually preparing a... summary. For review, Captain."

"Hi Captain!" Asa spoke brightly, "First all, thanks for the meal, this is fantastic! Gotta say, great tradition," the physician had a twinkle in their eye that spoke of both a desire to care for others and a desire to cause a bit of mischief when allowed.

"Ok, time to report," they continued, "I served on Lt. Commander Paris' team. Upon entering the city, we ascertained that women held places of high esteem in the society, and adapted to have Paris take the lead in navigating the city and reaching the Commodore. The Commodore advised that the populace was primed for revolution, which we transported in weapons in order to aide them with. Our away team split at this point, with myself, Lt. Commander Paris, and Ahreva Malana. We went through the city disabling the temple psionic collectors inside Hera's temples. Ms. Malana was crucial in nullifying the stone gaze of Hera's creations, and our illustrious XO was stalwart and skilled in battle."

"I managed to not completely murder myself, of which I am proud."

"We experienced increasing resistance, but managed to Molotov our way through the city. We discovered a rail system leading to the inner sanctum and high temple of Hera. Upon gaining ingress to the temple, we disabled- which is to say blew to smithereens- her primary psionic collector and amplifier located in her throne. At this point, Hera was taken captive and recover efforts were undertaken. All three members of our party sustained some injuries, but have since received treatment and are returning to full health." The doctor spoke quickly and assuredly, but sought to gloss over some of the more horrific sites they saw that day.

"Full disclosure, the violence we participated in shook me. If it were not for the rest of the party, I would have frozen on the spot and likely been killed. I owe both these incredible women my life, and I am honored to serve with them. While I hope we do not face such circumstances again, I stand ready to serve," Asa concluded.

Thex decided to speak next, seeing as no one else seemed to want to. "Well, a few of you know what I did on the planet. For those who don't me, Lieutenant Sonak and Chief Petty Officer Duran-Yeager were tasked with blowing up Hera's chariot force on the planet. Lieutenant Sonak and Chief Petty Officer Duran-Yeager both performed their task commendably which is mentioned in my report. After destroying the majority of Hera's chariots, Commander Paris requested my help in dealing with a few items in Hera's citadel. We found out the item was a key and power source to a cache of her people's weapons and a solid gold apple. They're currently sitting behind a forcefield in engineering," the Andorian explained calmly yet with a hint of enjoyment in her voice.

As soon as Thex had finished, the doors WHOOSHED open, and a comparatively-dark figure was outlined by the unusually-bright corridor lighting.



The man stepped into the room, the doors closing behind him, and took a draw off a simulated cigar.

"Did y'all say, informal?" Clemens drawled in Texan.

The archaic phaser that Paris had produced from somewhere slowly slid back under the table. Apparently she was a bit jumpy these days, and the Missourian intel chief 's appearance had startled her a bit. "Just in time, Chief Clemens. Grab a plate and how about you offer us your debriefing on how your mission went, now that you're here?"

The wiry Intel Chief flipped his poncho back, as he sidled up to the bar, loading his plate with a little bit of everything, plus a surprisingly-large serving of each of the meat dishes, setting the plate down, and going back for a dessert plate and his oversized haul of whatever was wet.

Sticking to his newly-adopted South Texas accent, he launched into his report:

"As deployed outta the Hera toward Meroset 347, with th'Baroness flyin'. As we'd hoped, the stealth plating and her most excellent piloting got us on th'ground in short order, very close to th'cave entrance. After cursory scans, we deployed and secured th'ship, and made our way to th'cave entrance, which was surprisingly-insecure." He tore into one of the meat dishes as he talked, not letting the food disrupt his discourse in any way.

"Once we got inside, we carefully moved along the cavern, which seemed mostly-unworked, with minimal signs of artificial tampering. We came upon a larger cavern, and before we were aware of them, were beset upon by a pair of those stone bastards, one of which grabbed Crewman Post. I wanna state for th'record, here, that all three of our Security Specialists fought hard to keep the rest of us safe, as was their duty." He'd paused in his eating, a haunted look crossing his face.

"Post didn't make it. A more gruesome death, I've rarely seen. Hasselhoff and Daniels fought the cursed thing mightily, but before they could wrest Post free, the unholy monster crushed him, and flung them both aside." He sighed, and continued. "I've filed special commendation requests for all three of 'em."

"I was too late to save Post, but damned if I was gonna let anyone else die at the cold hands of this obscenity. I kicked on my gravboots, and activated the jets, and ran at it, puttin' my tungsten-rhenium-armored fist out ahead of me. I'd seen that th'Baroness had kicked its brother over, smashin' it t'bits. When I hit this one, it flew apart." He picked at his food, and took a large swallow of the beverage.

"With that thing down, Daniels, Hasselhoff, and I turned to face one of th'Minotaurs that'd heard or smelled us and came running over the ridge. French an' Sexton had faced-off with it already, and while Sexton drew its attention, French skewered its head with her sword, which sliced right through, owing to Thex's alloy's effectiveness." The Engineer-Spy took a moment to have another chug of the flagon, and dug into the food, again.

French relived the scene in her head, whilst he talked!

"I'll be honest, here- we were all so impressed that we didn't spot the other one until it's begun its charge at her. It caught her, and threw her all the way across the cave." He looked at French. "I though sure we'd lost you, there. But you got up. Fleet Strong." French grimaced at the thought of it.

The moustachioed meat-eater kept chowing down the piles on his plate, and went on, "...at that point, th'Baroness moved in and started carvin' that beast up like Sweeney Todd, until it couldn't even track her. She gave us the nod, and got the hell out of the way, while the rest of us unloaded our clips into it, finishin' it off."

"After we'd secured th'perimeter, Daniels and I went ahead to check over th'ridge. What we found was a crack in th'wall, which is where all those powerful readings had been coming from. There was a multiphasic conduit exposed, with a tiny fracture in its casing." The Chief finished off his main plate, and started digging into the desserts.

"From there, we just covered the entire rupture with subspace transducers, rigged to convert audio to the subspace frequencies the conduit was using to transport the energies through the n-dimensional manifold to the power plant, and, after taking cover, we fired the inverse phase into the hole, with just a little variance to not just nullify it, but to make it flicker, like hitting th'resonant frequency of a wine glass with a high note, until it blows itself t'bits." He finished off the dessert plate, and drank his mug empty.

"I put everyone in there down for honors when I got back up here." He looked around proudly. "Y'all deserve it. End of report!" He headed back over to the bar for seconds of everything, plus a few new things.

"Well, that's reports from all three field teams as well as the home team, Captain. I guess this is the part where we brag?" Paris offered, trying to make sure this particular tradition continued. "I took the two non-coms into the city with me, with the expressed mission of destroying a number of the shrines on our way to the temple. I have to say- I saw more bravery and courage out of Doc and Malana than I've seen in some battle-hardened MACOs, and that's no exaggeration. Both of them did their best and gave their all, darn near laying down their lives for the people of that planet, and I could not be prouder of both of them. I wouldn't be here today if not for them."

For her part, Rita chose not to dwell on any specifics, and while she had been effective, there was nothing about the mission of which she felt particularly proud insofar as her own actions. She had done what needed to be done, but she took no pride in it.

Grinning brightly, the captain nodded at each story, pleased that they were getting along so well. "And this is why it all went so well." Sweeping one hand across the gathered department heads, she indicated all of them. "We have amazing leadership and skills among all of us. On the bridge I saw that as well. Lieutenant Dauntless isn't here, but she was able to seamlessly switch from the metaphasic shields to stealth while using decoys to lure the chariots away and Lieutenant Dox came up behind them. Before they knew it both of them were space dust. The other pair barely got in a shot on our shields before they had an accident with our tractors and some asteroids. On top of that, we were able to make contact with the Merosian colonies and establish friendly relations with their council. Commander Paris' influence was there, even if she wasn't. Since they were flying Chariots as well, if we hadn't taken the time to question why they weren't the same model when they came to salvage the ones we destroyed and investigate, we never would have figured that out."

Even the slight mention of her name in the Captain's words was enough to make Melanie Dox a little embarrassed, which was typical of the anxious lieutenant. But she was glad the mention was a brief one as she took a bite of her spring roll, something she had never tried before and found herself pleasantly enjoying.

"My report is that I was rescued from captivity thanks to the brave action of Lieutenant Commander Paris," Avender said. "After that, I did what I could to assist the wounded. It's a short report, I know, but I wasn't really me for most of the operation. That said, I understand Gaia 'got her butt handed to her' as they used to say on Terra." She smiled, and sipped her water.

"Least I could do, Counselor. And I think your assessment is about right for how it went with Gaia when she met Hera," Paris offered with a grin. "So, anyone else have anything they'd like to add? Any stories to tell, any comments, commendations, corrections? Or from here do we just enjoy this delicious luncheon the captain's wife has put together for us, which we might want to proffer a note of thanks?" Raising a cup of hot tea, Rita Paris extended it in Maica's direction.

French sat back, forgetting about the food in front on her. Thinking about how Sexton yet again saved her. The part that our Intel Specialist didn't talk about. Had it not been for him getting to her when he did, she would not be here now, of that she was sure. But the thing that played on her mind just now, was how her brother, for lack of a better way to describe him, was going to take the news that this woman he was so fond of had changed completely, and for all intents and purposes was not the woman he had fallen for?

The doctor shifted slightly uncomfortably in their seat, but felt the need to speak. "Well, as Lt. Commander Paris has said, she managed to guide two non-combatants into fighting in a war zone. At one point I found myself curled in on myself like a turtle getting beaten by an Amazon, and the only way out was to burrow through the roof I was sitting on and launch the Amazon into the sky from the underneath. Needless to say...not exactly smooth moves. I would like to personally and formally thank Commander Paris for keeping me going. Her words and kindness that day kept me focused and able to serve others. War was not her desire either, but she kept us going, and I am thankful for that. And I gotta say folks, that MACO armor stuff comes in handy. It would have been fun bouncing around like a flying squirrel under different circumstances," the doctor concluded.

"I also did utilize somewhat new stim-shots in the field to keep us going once wounded. The after effects do make one want to sleep for a day, but I found them useful nonetheless. I'm curious, has anyone else had any experience with them?" Asa asked the crowd.

"Doctor, your work with the wounded, especially given that you were badly wounded yourself, was nothing short of miraculous!" Avendar said. "Your courage put almost every doctor I served with aboard the Nobel to shame!"

Asa felt their ears redden. Outside of their time on the Hera, the young physician could only think of a few instances of receiving praise for their work. It was always welcome to receive, but their blasted blush response seemed to be more highly attuned than their ability to walk at times. "Thank you Counselor, that is very nice to hear. I truly love helping others, and I saw no reason not to do so while I still had time on my own internal clock. I am very glad to see a smile in your eyes. Mind control is not something anyone should have to endure, and we are all relieved you are free of it. Let's find time to work together to brainstorm ways to keep us all safe in the future, sound good?"

"I would love to!" The Betazoid beauty said.

Watching the El Aurian doctor blushing at receiving praise, Melanie Dox leaned over and smiled at her. The two got along fairly well so far and Dox felt relieved to not be the only person in the universe that blushed at the drop of a hat.

"Well, I have a request," Paris spoke up as she rose from her seat. "Sometimes all that we have left to remember moments of our lives are the memories, and those can be a bit faulty. But captured images can last for centuries. So, with that in mind, would any of you object to gathering together for a senior staff portrait? It seems the perfect time and place- we're all gathered, there is no immediate crisis and I'm a sentimental old lady who likes to look back on moments like this. What do you say?"

Irony set in rather quickly for Dox upon hearing Rita Paris' as she found herself blushing again at the request for a group photo. She leaned back in her chair to look down at her uniform, relieved to see she had not been wearing any of her lunch and turned to look up at her First Officer, running her fingers across the sides of her hair making sure it was all in place. "Um... No objections here."

Thex gave her friend a smile before she made sure her uniform was clear before looking back at her friend. " Sure go ahead Rita." before leaning back in her chair.

Kicked back in his own chair, "No Name" Clemens drawled out, from under his drawn-down Gaucho hat, "I reckon that'd be all right." He moved over to the wall within view of the camera, and adopted a classic Earth American Old Western Gunfighter pose, leaned back, with his cigar chomped in a wide grin, arms crossed.

Well acquainted with his wife's idiosyncrasies, Sonak rose without a word and took his place behind the officers senior to him, hands at his back in his customary attention pose. He knew how such things were important to her and hypothesized it could be so just as well with several other emotional members of the crew. And accurate records were something he was always appreciative of anyway.

The Chief counselor also stood and walked around the table to stand behind the senior officers as well. Her smile was natural. She felt a part of this group.

"It's good to see you doing better Counselor." Said French. "I know one person that will be very happy that you are well." She remarked

As Enalia got in position at the middle, she smiled over at her wife who was already getting a holocamera ready. That woman was perpetually ready for every occasion and she loved her more for it every day. Once everyone was in place, she nodded to signalled their readiness.

"Okay, everyone, say cheese!" Maica called out, looking through the viewfinder. She then pressed the button and the tri-lense system started the scan for a holopicture.





After a few seconds, it finished and she smiled brightly. "All done! I'll add in Lieutenant Dauntless and send everyone a copy as soon as I can."

"Spectacular, thank you so much, Maica! That'll make a wonderful memento of the occasion." Paris offered, then paused as she considered. "You know, this is our first big win as a crew... I hadn't thought of that. All of us here, working together under Captain Telvan... we're all new to this crew. Heck, for some of you it was your first mission in Starfleet."

Turning to the Trill mistress and commander of the Hera, Paris flashed that winning smile. "Well, you've read the reports and heard the tales of your crew. So what do you say, Captain? How did we do at the Battle of Planet Hera?"

"I couldn't be more proud of you all. Don't tell them this, especially Schwein, but even my crew growing up couldn't compete with how well you've all done." The spotted captain couldn't help but beam proudly as she spoke. "Now let's fight another sort of battle and demolish this buffet! Eat, drink, and be merry!"

A cheer went up from the senior staff, and for the moment, all was well on the USS Hera.

In order to allot the time, Rita Paris had slid it into the captain's schedule of meetings. Likely she'd be in her ready room when she got the alert, would grumble about what the hell was on deck 10, assume that Rita was planning to demo some wackadoodle idea and show up with an open mind and skepticism.

Instead, as the holodeck's doors opened. there sat Rita Paris, cross legged on the deck. On the hull, to be precise. As the stars slid by, she sat on a holographic real-time representation of the hull of the Hera, sitting atop Deck 3. Just outside her office, in fact.

"I have coffee and breakfast burritos, and one hell of a view. Come take a picnic on the hull, Cap'n? I cleared your schedule for the next 45 minutes, so you have the time...?" Paris batted her lashes at the busty pirate captain.

Sighing heavily, Enalia stepped out onto the hull of the Hera. "Well... I could use a break." She then joined Rita and sat on the hull itself, taking on more of a relaxed pose. "So what's up?"

"So put upon. Captain, I arranged for a meeting on the hull of your starship and I cooked you breakfast. I even put it on your schedule so I'm not interrupting anything. So why the heavy sigh? Why is this such an imposition, ma'am?" While the words were naggy, Paris still had her customary good humor behind the words. She genuinely wanted to understand the woman, which she had been working at for a while now. Handing off a cup of coffee, she eyed the spotted mistress and commander.

Taking the mug, the spotted woman nursed it a bit before sipping at it. "Normally this is the sort of setup my wife would do before a night of passionate lovemaking. Coming from you, I assume it means I'm overworking myself or stressing the crew or something. Beautiful view though. Thank you for this."

"You're welcome, it's my pleasure. It is a beautiful view- thanks for the office. You are not stressing the crew, and you aren't overworking yourself near as I can tell. I was not planning to make this a night of passionate lovemaking. Again, we only have 45 minutes," Rita joked, then took a sip of her coffee.

"It's lonely. Command. Or so I'm told," Rita unwrapped an egg, bell pepper and onion burrito to hand it to the commanding officer. "At the end of the day you have to live with all of the decisions and you can't afford to second guess yourself. But you still have to consider if you made the right choice, so that you'll make the right one tomorrow."

"A lot of the crew are spooked by you," Rita declared. "I see it in your eyes, it hurts you. It's what the Baroness always talks about with 'fleeters. The pirates look you in the eye and call you by name. A captain in Starfleet is somehow removed from the social activity of the ship. Conversations shut down as you approach. People turn to look and seldom is it a warm smile, but a look of fear. 'Oh shit, it's the Captain!' It wears on you, because it's lonely."

"Loneliness is something with which I am very familiar, Captain. So I thought you might want to talk about it with somebody who somewhat gets it."

"That's... Rather observant of you..." Enalia accepted the burrito and nibbled on it, resting the wrist of her coffee wielding hand on one knee. "I think you're right though. Growing up with pirates, I was trained how to be both a Commander and a leader from a young age. It was the miners and pirates that taught me how to be a woman and a friend. In the Academy, I always took charge, and while I tried to fit in, I don't think I ever fit in- except with similarly minded cadets like Farenia. As soon as I got Lieutenant Junior Grade, I was given command of an Intel courier ship. Lieutenant Commander, I got the Hera. I can't really remember a time I wasn't somehow in charge..."

"The old guys my father hung out with, the dinosaurs who could claim they served under Archer, they talked about it a lot. I'd be eavesdropping and they'd forget I was there, and they talked about it late at night at parties. Lonely at the top and how command distanced you and changed the whole game. Then they chain you to a desk and that's the end of your career." Rita pulled back a bit to smile that dazzling display of pearly whites. "But you're not there, and I doubt you ever will be. So although you have Maica to come home to at the end of the day, being alone on your own ship bugs you."

"My job is to make the ship run efficiently for the captain and to insure that her orders are carried out. Part of that is crew morale, and you are a member of the crew, ma'am. Last time I checked," Paris held her gold-braided sleeves up in defense. "So I'm here to help you figure out how to raise your morale, and maybe figure out some way to make you more... accessible to the crew."

Enalia chuckled softly as she nibbled on her burrito. "That might be a tall order. The old men were right though - It is rather lonely at the top. Why do you think I signed up for a Subspace Order Bride? Heck, I even had a mercenary go pick her up. You have to admit that she's become integral to the crew though. And damn is she a good cook... I'm amazed I don't weigh twice what I do..."

"So, you have a fulfilled personal life. Now, how do we not make the crew flinch? Sorry Captain- this time I brought you the problem, but no solution." Rita shrugged broadly, then finished off her first cup of coffee. "But I figured you'd want to work it out, so... here we are. Hera we are, I guess?"

"We've identified the problem - now we just need to focus on the solution." The captain gazed out at the stars as she finished her burrito. "You know, the quarters between ours has a small distillery and a stash of real food in cryo-stasis. If you ever need something, help yourself. Maica keeps it well stocked and Schwein keeps the wine in check."

"Please don't laugh, but... I quit drinking. See, he shares my mind, so if I get drunk, he gets drunk. And you are poisoning your brain cells, technically speaking. He can't actually conceive of wanting to blunt one's intellect- it's kind of an anathema to him. So while he doesn't condemn the choices of others, he wants nothing to do with it. So when we touch, we're connected, which means I choose not to drink out of respect for him and his choice." Rita shrugged sheepishly. "I know. As a line officer I can drink with the best of them, but he's more than worth it."

"You know, now that you mention it, you told me to hit the hydroponics gardens and I never have. I replicate the vegetables then cut them up. I still have that stupid 'I don't want to impose' reflex. Stupid rule my parents had- when you visit someone's home, you don't ask for anything and you don't accept anything offered. They are just being polite. What a terrible thing to teach children, isn't it? People are only being polite, they aren't really generous, you just refuse it and shut them out. Yet it sticks with you for a lifetime." Rita turned and offered a chagrined expression. "Yes ma'am, that's very generous of you, and I'll take you up on that. Thank you."

Enalia shrugged as she drank on her coffee. "You can still cook with wine, you know. No one is ordering you to drink it. And the foodstuffs are often more than I can eat so that's why we hold those weird dinner parties. Cargo bay three has like a dozen more crates of foodstuffs as well if you need anything there. Just mark it off the inventory so Maica knows."

"Aye ma'am, I'll do that. Still not solving your problem, though. So... you do hold dinner parties. How do those go?" While Rita had attended a few now, she was curious to hear the captain's take on them.

"The ones with Nexi and Aewia were awesome but the rest... Normally stiff, formal... And a bit awkward." The well endowed captain finished her coffee and set her mug next to her even more well endowed first officer before splaying out across the hull. "You saw me naked and then I cried and now you're not so afraid of me. Maybe if I did a tearful strip-tease for the crew they'll loosen up." Feigning seriousness, Enalia watched Rita for her reaction.

"Ah, no Capt..." Rita started before she caught the Trill pirate queen's expression and smirked to match the one that often graced the face of her commanding officer. "While the sight of you naked would likely inspire, and showing vulnerability to the crew is a tricky thing that can work well, I don't know if you want to get to shimmying the pole in 10-Forward for latinum strips just yet. So who were Nexi and Aewia? I'm sorry, if they were former crew I don't think I ever met them."

As she spoke, Rita poured them both another cup of coffee. She'd chosen small cups for their little picnic, because she wasn't sure how much of a coffee drinker the captain was. Handing her refilled cup back to her, Rita unwrapped a bacon cheese ham and egg burrito and handed it to the decidedly carnivorous captain, sensing she would like it better than the vegetarian option.

"Thank you," Enalia muttered as she sat back up and accepted the refill and fresh burrito. She ate somberly for a few moments as she thought about what to say about Nexi and Aewia. "They were... They were with this crew for the longest and I think they grew the most with us. They were half sisters. Aewia was an undercover operative that was lobotomized while on a mission in the Tal Shiar. When we rescued her, Nexi happened to have boarded the Hera to catch a bounty that we had for whatever reason. She was a collector for a Ferengi. When I asked her to join us and told her who we were rescuing, things fell into place."

Enalia paused a moment as she sipped her coffee. "Over the next few missions, we paid off her debt to her Ferengi master, Aewia slowly got a bit better, and both of them became a part of the crew. They were like family. We started tracking down the Master's work but at that point it was all hints and the barest of clues. We got thrown back in time and when we returned it was the wrong year and history had changed... Romulus was back, for instance. That's another story..."

The Starfleet captain paused again, a tear rolling down her cheek. "The next few missions took a heavy toll on all of us. Eventually several of the crew were infected with the Master's black blood, starting with Nexi. She and her sister got it the worst, I think. When Danu, one of those deities that we seem to be running into, healed the rest of the crew they had to stay behind because their minds had been all but shattered. Last report I got from Danu, Nexi doesn't remember the past five years and Aewia has constant flashbacks of the Master's torture. They may never heal fully, but she's doing what she can for them."

Sitting apart, by the time the captain finished speaking, Paris had scooted next to the heartbroken woman and was enveloping her in a hug, pulling the slighter woman in to rest her head on the gold-clad bosom of the anachronistic uniform of the first officer from so long ago. "That's a special kind of awful, Enalia, and I am sorry that you had to lose two members of your family like that. Maybe someday their memories will return and they will remember how you cared for them and made them family. The universe is not unkind, ma'am... I'm living proof."

"In this case, I may be dead and gone before they're fully healed." Enalia didn't resist the head hug that Rita had her in and slowly munched on her burrito, trying not to get too many tears or drool on the gold clad woman's bosom.

After another minute, she had something else to add. "The universe did bring you around. I feel like you're part of my family now. Nexi may have spread mayonnaise on the mansion walls of a man that outbid me on a teacup and swiped said teacup for me... And protected me from the Yakuza while I collected a cursed tea set... And hired my great grandmother and namesake in person to deliver repair resources when we got stuck in the 2160s... But I have a feeling we'll have some pretty zany times ahead of us as well, you know?"

Pulling back, Rita turned the captain's head so that the captain's dark brown eyes of Trill could see the bright blue of the California girl's eyes, so that she would see the sincerity in them. "The universe has a way of yanking me where it wants for me to go, and often that's not where I want to be. I will always do my best to make it back- you've seen the lengths I will go to. And sometimes I just plain have to be rescued, because I can't find my way back. But whatever the cosmos may have in store for me, yes- we're family, Enalia Artan Telvan. You and me and this big crazy starship of yours, and this crew of misfits and my logical man, we're all family. I will fight just as hard to get back to you as I did to him- and I will never lose faith that if I am missing, you won't rest until you've found me. So you can rest assured that the same is true of me- you're my responsibility now, and I'll move the heavens and planets and time itself if I have to in order to find you and bring you home."

"I can't replace the people you've lost- and they might not be lost to you forever, we don't know that. But I'm here, and I'll be here for you until I can't be any longer. Fair enough?" Rita offered a gentle smile at that, hoping it would reassure the woman who was not at all comfortable being vulnerable, hoping to offer her some stability and comfort.

The spotted captain smiled as best she could. Letting her guard down was certainly a new position for her. "Thank you. Just... Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate that." Looking back out at the stars, she smiled a bit more solidly. "Hey. We should take over the flight sims some time so you can see my baby back at the fortress. She's kind of in storage right now, but I still have a program with me just in case, you know?"

"Of course! You know I am always game to go flying. And I'd love to see your baby. You just say when and I'll be there. After all, one of these days I might find myself behind the wheel of a pirate ship, according to some reports." Rita smirked at that- the first night she'd been reconstituted aboard the USS Hera, she'd made the captain nervous and she'd brought up the pirate fleet, which had only served to confuse the already addled time and space traveler in the moment. But now, knowing what she did, Rita would welcome an outing with the pirates, though her heart and her career would always be with Starfleet.

"We haven't figured out how to make you more approachable to the crew, y'know," Rita realized aloud. "You're not so scary once you get to know you. You've a good heart, Captain, and I know you'd do just about anything for your people. They still see you more of an authority figure, I guess. Mysterious, a bit aloof and in person you are a lot different than they expect I suspect."

"That's probably for the best, I suppose. At least for now. After all, this is a big ship, and she takes a big captain to keep her flying." Patting the holographic hull they were sitting on, Enalia chuckled softly. "And that means I have to be larger than life a lot of the time, right?"

"That's not a bad way of looking at it I suppose," Rita admitted. "Guess that's where I come in... the accessible member of the command team who can listen to their problems and encourage the crew to get through it, while you issue orders and make the impossible happen. But if you are lonely at the top- you know you aren't alone, right?"

"I know," Enalia replied with a soft smile. "I have family I can count on."

"We all do," Rita replied with a warm smile of her own. "That's what Starfleet's all about, Captain. Family you can always count on."

With that, the captain and first officer watched the stars slide by in silence for a while, simply enjoying the company of one another, and the mighty starship that was their home.

The blue eyes of the ship's engineer were staring at the alien words on the computer screen. She'd taken her computer apart and rebuilt it to make sure what she was reading was real. Even then the virus checks had found nothing wrong with the lines of digital code. They were real and her mind was struggling to comprehend what they were saying.

The bleeping of her door alarm snapped her out of her almost trance-like state. Suddenly her blue eyes snapped to the clock. She'd said she'd meet Rita for a trip to the holodeck five minutes ago. " *&*&*" She said the words not translating as she hurried to the door. Opening it her eyes fell on her friend to whom she flashed an apologetic smile. "Rita hey... sorry about that, I was distracted with something."

Standing in the hallway in a one-piece neoprene wetsuit bathing suit that should have been zipped up a lot higher, the comically curvaceous commander waved it off. "No worries. What are you working on that's got you distracted from going surfing?"

"Oh, it's not work that's gotten me distracted, it was what was in my mail," Thex said as she hurried off into her bedroom to change. "Can you remember when I mentioned my inability to find a date? Well, if everything goes well, I may have one." She yelled from her bedroom as she quickly stripped and dressed herself in a tight-fitting pale blue swimsuit with white trim.

Throughout the course of their association, it had been made painfully clear to Rita that Thex was not unlucky in love, more like cursed. As an Andorian, it took 4 of them to mate and reproduce, which explained their dwindling population. However, being in Starfleet and traveling aboard the Hera, it made even hooking up difficult for the petite engineer, as there were no other Andorians aboard who she'd consider dating material, and seldom did the mighty starship pull into a port where the blue folks were found in sufficient abundance for Thex to have any sort of selection. Electronic dating had its own pitfalls of which Thex had expounded upon, but now it sounded like she just might have hit paydirt for a change.

"So did you manage to find someone who's going to be where we end up next, who isn't repulsive and you are actually interested in meeting?" Rita called out from the living room of the quarters. Idly she glanced over the screen, but the characters were an alien language Rita didn't recognize, she she stopped her snooping.

"It's Aenar. " Thex said as she emerged from her room. "Her name is Tathaa and she's Nurse on the USS Forthright," She said grinning slightly. "Yeah, she's on one of the ships we left to help the Merosians. I don't know why, but I have a good feeling about this one, Rita. I've sent her my DNA profile and if it goes well we'll see how it goes."

"Okay, so clear this up for me- what's Aenar, and how is this a good thing if we are going in opposite directions?" The curvaceous commander didn't want to seem less than supportive of her best friend's attempts at a love life, but apparently she wasn't grasping a few key elements here, because it sounded like disappointment in the making. Which was the last thing she wanted for the lonely blue sprite.

"Aenar are an andorian subspecies. Pale white, blind, but they have great telepathic abilities. It's not that ideal that we're heading in the opposite direction, but hopefully, it will mean I can get an answer rather quickly. " The andorian explained as she emerged from the bedroom, then she and her human friend headed for the exit to her quarters.

"So is this a dating thing, a mating thing or just a friends with benefits thing?" Rita asked plainly. "No judgment, of course, just trying to get a grasp on the situation since I'm not very up on your complex love life, and I want to make sure you are going to be happy with all of this. You sound excited, so that's a good sign..."

"Hopefully a dating thing that leads to a mating thing." Thex said with a grin as she held up two crossed fingers. "If our DNA results are compatible, we'll see if we can get a date or two going. Then we'll need to find two others and then see where that goes." Thex said with a smirk on her face. "I know this must seem odd to you Rita, but to my people this is how we have to do things."

"Uh, Thex? I come from another universe where I fell in love with the last kolinahr, the last living master of absolute logic in the universe," the buxom human woman explained as she tapped the button for the turbolift. "I am literally one of the most emotional people on the ship, yet my husband is an alien from another world, whose biology doesn't even make mating possible without scientific intervention. When he touches me, I can hear his mind and share his thoughts. The fact that you need 4 Andorians to make a family isn't odd, it is your culture and your biology."

Stepping aboard the turbolift, Rita waited for Thex to be aboard before calling out, "Deck Eleven. So, long and short, Ms. sh'Zoarhi, whatever it is that you have to do in order to find yourself somebody to love and settle down with and make little blue babies, I am all about."

The lift doors opened once more, this time onto the much more crowded and busy Deck 11. Which was where a gaggle of crewmen and junior officers were gathered to catch the turbolift, somewhat unprepared for the sight of the buxom bombshell blonde in the high and low-cut bright blue one-piece emerging with the blue-skinned engineer in the pale blue bikini. While both women were striking in uniform, out of uniform and on display like this they literally stopped traffic as the crew gawked just a bit.

With a genial grin, Paris draped her hands on her rounded hips and cocked her head slightly. "You're welcome to look all you like, folks, but how about you gangway to make a hole so the dynamic duo can get some surfing in today, maybe?"

This led to some embarrassed shuffling and chuckling as the crew stepped aside to let the attractive pair exit the lift and make their way down the corridor to the holodeck Thex had reserved for the day's entertainment.

Thex gave a slight grin as she moved her hips slightly causing a few of the crewman to walk into each other as they disappeared around the corridor. Stepping into the third holodeck, the andorian punched into a code before stepping inside. "Computer, activate program Thex thirty-four, " she said before the room was replaced with a warm tropical beach. A few alien trees and rocks scattered the fine sandy beach, which a few large waves smashed on the rocks.

"How do you like Iorilia, Rita? It's a beautiful place, friendly natives and excellent weather." Thex said as she picked up a surfboard sticking out of the sand.

"Works for me," the Starfleet siren sighed as she turned toward the sun and soaked it in. Starship life did not lend itself to getting a lot of sunshine like planetary duty stations, and Rita's west coast tan had long since faded. But the feeling of the sun on her face, the wind in her hair and the scent of the salty sea breeze were all intoxicants to the earthling who had made her home amongst the stars, yet ever yearned for the comforts of her homeworld.

"Yup, just us the sea and the sand." The sapphire engineer smirked as she attached the board to her ankle with a blue silver cord. "Don't worry, the locals won't bother us. There seven-foot species of octopodiformes that live six miles down in the ocean depths. To even contact the Federation, they had to fire a communications device onto the nearest federation colony."

"Oddly enough, I never worry about the locals on the holodeck. While it is an amazing simulation, it's just that. But one that never fails to amaze me." Selecting a shorter surfboard with more maneuverability, Rita slipped on the ankle strap then hefted the board out of the sand and began strolling into the surf. "So are you up for having a telepathic mate? It takes a little getting used to never having any secrets, you know. No deflections, no illusions and no surprises, ever. Not discouraging you, mind you, just pointing out a few of the things I had to get used to as a regular human gal who settled down with someone who knows their own mind backward and forward and can read mine like a pamphlet."

"I hadn't thought of that," Thex responded as she paused as she waited for her friend to ready herself. "I hope it is something that I could get used to. If this does work out, could I come to you for some advice?" She asked her friend.

Calf-deep in the surf, Rita paused to place her hand on her diminutive friend's shoulder. "Thex, we're friends. You will always be able to come to me for advice, to listen to your problems, to help you look for solutions or just for company. For as long as the universe allows it, I'll be here. So long as I am here, I'll be here for you- understand?" The smile that she offered was warm and genuine, and the sincerity was evident. "You're a good person, Thex sh'Zoarhi, and you deserve happiness. Whatever part you need for me to play in you achieving that happiness, I'm happy to help. That's what friends do, and that's what makes Starfleet great. We can all come from different cultures with different customs and physiologies and needs and desires and dreams- and we can work on accomplishing them together."

Resuming their walk into the surf, Rita turned the tone lighter again. "As for dealing with a telepathic mate, the key really is that you're going to learn to be completely honest, because nothing else works. I can't tell Sonak nothing is wrong, because he knows better. I can't surprise him unless it is spur of the moment, or5 he'll have heard it in my head. I can't refuse to discuss something because if I am thinking it he knows it. So, just be prepared to be very, very honest with her... the rest should work out. Because a little bonus about honesty?" Rita laid her board down to lay on her tummy as the water became deep enough. "They always know exactly how you feel about them... but they let you know too. I never have to wonder what he sees in me, because I can see myself through his eyes, and I know exactly how unique and brilliant and wonderful he thinks I am. That could be you too, and I'll tellya, pal of mine... it's a pretty amazing feeling."

"Sounds amazing." Thex said as the waves began to pick up. The blue girl skillfully slid onto her board and began to paddle out towards the big waves off the coast. The idea of having someone who would know what you were thinking with a look was something she would love to experience.

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Several hours later, the andorian had unclipped her surfboard and was lying down on a blanket on the warm sands, her cerulean skin turned a shade more sapphire. "Well Rita, I don't know about you, but I would love a drink right now." She said, trying to catch her breath.

"I forgot what hard work surfing is. I think my bruises are gonna have bruises. But, you were right- that was a perfect way to spend a goodly chunk of our day off." Being chief engineer and first officer, neither woman was ever truly off duty. But they did dutifully schedule themselves for time off, and sometimes, as was the case today, they were rewarded by no interruptions.

Lying on her back squinting up at the late afternoon sun, Rita called out. "Computer? Could I please have a cabana boy deliver us two synthehol mojitos in tiki drink containers?" There was a chirrup from seemingly nowhere, and a cabana boy appeared to offer the recreating officers some cold refreshing cocktails, minty and tangy. "Thank you computer," Paris purred as she sat up to retrieve her libation from the holographic server.

Thex smiled as she sat up on her elbows before she took the drink from her friend and took a long sip allowing the drink to pour down her throat. The minty yet tangy flavour was refreshing after the surfing. "You certainly know how to pick a good drink Rita." The andorian stated.

"Years of alcoholism. If you were lonely and you hated your job, you drank most nights. That's what happens... well, I assume it still happens- in all of those crappy postings like Planitia Utopia. You do your shift, go drink your dinner and hang out in bars. or you are the quiet drunk who just brings home a box of wine to share with your cat," Rita expounded. "I was grateful for the USS Farragut assignment, even though it was a crap on fire posting. It got me off the ground and into the fleet, which really cut back on my drinking."

"I didn't know that about you, Rita." Thex replied, wondering if drinking had been that common back then. Maybe that was the reason that Synthehol had been created. "One of my classmates is shift manager at the refit yard at Planitia Utopia. She loves it though, given she's a fan of high orbit skydiving."

"I'm sure there are people that love it, don't get me wrong," Rita acquiesced. "But me and most of the ensigns and JGs who were stuck in a landbound post close to Terra Firma were all dreaming of getting out there, going on a five year mission, being part of the exploration of the galaxy. Instead we were stuck making sure shuttlecraft and worker bees didn't run into each other because they weren't paying attention. So that was why we drank so much. Back then there was no synthehol- this stuff is amazing. I can catch a buzz and not poison my spouse in the process. I shudder to imagine how many brain cells I killed in that red uniform those first two years out of the Academy."

"We all did some stupid things at the academy. Never try fighting a Vulcan hand to hand specialist the day before the exams for one." Thex responded with a smirk forming on her blue face.

Rolling over onto her tummy to prop herself up on her elbows, Rita's eyes alit with mischief. "Ohhh, you can't start a story like that and not tell the whole thing. What possessed you to take on a master of Pon-Ifla, and how did you push it too far? Because it isn't usually the Vulcan in the story that brings things to a regrettable conclusion..."

"Well back at the academy I was on the martial arts team. A few of us formed let's just say an off the board event, random draw with let's just say none of the safety rules Starfleet put into play. I make it through to the second round and end up going against the best Vulcan Pon-Ifla combatant I've seen. We end up fighting and after five minutes she gets a lucky punch in, breaks my nose, knocks me out and left me with a bandaged nose for the next few days." Thex responded, shifting slightly on the sands as she remembered her youth.

As for Rita, she laughed musically. You were in a Fight Club at the Academy? That’s hilarious. I mean, not for your broken nose, but the fact that there even was a fight club. I guess the Academy has become more progressive in this century? I was all debate team and student council and the cross-country running team and tri-D chess club and the lot. For a gal who loved the beach I spent most of my four years indoors being overworked, overstressed and overextended trying to make that cadet record look good.” There was a pause, while the old-school officer mused. “I wonder if this dimension’s Rita was as thinly stretched as I was? Probably so, I’d imagine…”

"I'm sure she worked hard and passed just like you did," the andorian said reassuringly smiling at her friends laugh.

“Worked hard, yes, passed like I did… that I would have to ask people who are long since dead, I suspect. But given the overachiever gene inherent in the Paris girls, she was probably just as hard pressed to get out on time as I was,” Rita finished with a sigh. Then there was silence for a moment, and when Rita Paris spoke, it was a quiet and subdued tone.

“You ever think about settling down, Thex? Giving up this whole space explorer lifestyle, settle down in a cozy little igloo somewhere and make sure there is a next generation who you could teach and raise to be better than we were?”

"And leave the Hera in the hands of someone else? The girl would be broken down in a week." The andorian replied, trying to hold back her own laughter. "Well… sometimes I think about it, but I really don't know how. My own childhood was hell and I don't really know anything else."

“You never talk about your childhood. So what was the deal?” Whatever it was, Rita was certain that it was different than her own childhood. She had considered discussing her own thoughts on the matter, but apparently Thex was in the mood to share, so why not take advantage of the opportunity to learn a bit more about the big-hearted little blue babe.

"Well, you know the basics. My family were part of a psychotic religious cult that spread through Andor like a plague. There extremely xenophobic, blaming the current problem on the Federation even though the DNA problem had started before humans even got into space. They didn't have us for love, they had us to breed more soldiers. My childhood was a mix of beatings, harsh training and psychological abuse." Thex replied lying back on the sand.

"Their indoctrination didn't work. It's hard to work on a girl who knows how to get around the security features on the computers. I'd have never gotten out if Vash hadn't pulled me over the wall when I tried to escape."

For a moment, Rita was speechless. Apparently Thex thought she had been more forthright about her upbringing, but most of this was news to the throwback officer. Reaching over, she ran her hand along her friend’s blue arm. “I’m sorry that was your childhood, Thex. People who abuse children are some of the worst kinds of monsters. How old were you when you escaped?”

"Fifteen when that jellyfish helped pull me over the wall. I'd tried before but failed." Thex responded calmly. "I joined Starfleet as soon as I got to Earth."

"Can't say as I blame you there," Rita conceded. "Buy why was Vash there? He isn't native to Andor, is he?"

"I don't really know. I've asked him a few times, but he never gives a straight answer. Everything from chasing a ghost, diplomatic meetings to hearing a girl cry for help." Thex replied.

"Hm. Diplomats generally don't kidnap kids from their home planet. Tends to be bad for negotiations," Rita observed, then backpedalled a bit. "I know, he was rescuing you, helping you help yourself, just... I wonder at his motivations, you know? Why does a telepathic jellyfish need a 15 year old Andorian girl? Obviously not for fell purposes, but I wonder about his actual purpose."

"So do I, but he's not saying. He seems to have good reasons so that's good enough for me. He does work for Starfleet Intelligence, after all. Maybe not telling the truth comes with the job." Thex speculated. "Want another drink?"

“May as well,” Rita agreed, letting the subject drop. If Thex wasn’t interested in knowing how she came to escape the cult she was raised in, that was her call. The ancient astronaut had enough on her own plate, and had no reason to pry into the matter so long as it didn’t seem to be adversely affecting her friend. Instead, she continued contemplating what had been on her mind recently, and as she often did, kept her own counsel. “or we could take advantage of this obscenely large block of time you booked and see if maybe we can catch a few more waves?”

"Sounds good. Race you there and back again?" Thex said prising herself up onto her legs.

“The girl from the frozen planet is going to challenge the California surfer girl to a surfing race? Ain’t you the bold one!” Rita laughed, rolling over to lever herself back upright. “All right, but the loser buys one more round of mojitos…”

" I'll have a large one Rita." Thex said with a laugh as she grabbed her surfboard and ran to the sea. This was the life.

Enalia had reserved holodeck 6 for some alone time with her wife, but since her wife had to cancel because of a last minute appointment for massage therapy on one of the people injured in the last mission, she was now alone and standing outside of the holodeck, geared up for a hike up a snow capped Japanese mountain. She had the holodeck for three hours, but she didn't want to cancel, but she also didn't want to go alone. That's when she remembered that she hadn't spent enough time with her new second officer... Or even told Thex that she WAS the new second officer!

Tapping where her comm badge normally was, she missed due to all the extra layers and had to go searching for it for a moment before just giving up. "Computer... Telvan to sh'Zoahri. Want to join me in Holodeck 6 for a hike up a snowy mountain and a hot bath with some monkeys?"

" On my way Telvan." Thex replied as she put down her book that she was reading. It didn't take the andorian long to change into a long sleeved teeshirt, trousers and trainers.It may have seemd like light gear, but she was an Andorian. it wasn't to long before she appearing in the holo deck. Smiling as she looked around the breathtaking senary the anodrian approached her friend. " You definitely know how to pick a breathtaking scene Telvan." She said casually.

Enalia grinned as she got up from the bench just outside the tiny japanese hiking lodge. The snowy Hakone valley sprawled out below them and above them lay one of the many mountains surrounding the area. "Please, just Enalia for now. This was one of my favorite spots on Earth so I had to have a program of it. About an hour up that trail is the best hot spring I've ever been to. I've got a few bottles of sake and some offerings for the monkeys and the reservation is for three hours. Ready?"

" Lead on." Thex said with a grin as she felt some snow on her nose. It was a simple pleasure that did remind her of home. Even with the bad memories she still loved her home. As the two made their way along the path Thex struck up a conversation. " So how's the wife Enalia?" She said politely.

"Busy as usual. It seems her job aboard the ship is growing more popular. Before long she might need to take on an apprentice or something." Enalia was bundled up a bit tighter in a heavy red and black parka, thick black pants, hiking boots, and a red hat with ear flaps. The pack she wore looked light enough, but it also bulged a bit peculiarly.

"How about you? Everything going well?" Enalia asked back as she led them a steeper part of the trail.

" Still looking for the four I need for a family though that may be changing. I'm talking with an Anear called Tathaa on the USS Forthright. If the DNA tests goes well we may start openly trying to date and see where things goes from there." Thex replied as she continued the walk her well-exercised body finding the hike easy to handle.

"That's awesome! With an Aenar you'd only need them, right? Not four like a classic Andorian coupling?" Enalia, while physically fit, was used to more stationary activities so hiking was a bit more taxing on her more rounded physique. On the bright side, she had remembered to wear a sports bra so she could keep herself mostly contained. On the down side, it seemed Maica's cooking had added a bit more jiggle to her rear... She'd have to hit the gym a bit more often in the coming days.

" Nah we'd still need another two to make it few little andorians. If everything looks fine with are DNA in the first place. I hope it does given my races numbers and DNA problems. " Thex replied as she offered her hand to the captain to help her over a, particularly steep bump.

Taking Thex's hand, the spotted woman got up the steepest bit and leaned against a large rock for a moment before continuing on. "Thank you. That makes sense. I just hope everything works out for you. You deserve happiness and a family."

"By the way..." Enalia started, changing the subject a bit suddenly. "I'm pretty sure I haven't told you this yet, but as the third highest ranking person aboard, that makes you the second officer. Congratulations."

The andorian felt comfort and pride at her friend and commanding officers words. She never thought she'd make the third in command of a ship. " I won't let you down Enalia. " She said as the two of them reached what Thex guessed was the top of the mountain.

"I know you won't. That's why you're in the position." Enalia looked around at the small bathhouse and the surrounding hot springs. They weren't at the very top of the mountain, but they were close enough. The trail ended here and the trees around them were only traversable by the monkeys that lived in the area. "We can take off our clothes and stash everything in here. Once you're ready, I'll make an offering to the monkeys and we can get in."

Enalia smiled as she slid open the door to the small bathhouse to reveal the cubbies filled with baskets. Nothing was locked and everything was open, but that was fine - it was just the two of them. Setting her pack aside, she started stripping her clothes off and folding it into one of the baskets. "There are towel sets next to the door. Be sure to grab one before you head out."

" Will do Enalia. " Thex said as she began to remove her clothes and carefully folded them into one of the baskets. Thex was wondering about the monkeys. She didn't know much about the earth creatures though she had read a few papers about uplifting them to full sentient level intelligence. Off course the prime directive completely forbid it. With her clothes carefully folded, she grabbed one of the towels and waited patiently for the captain to finish undressing.

As Enalia finally finished, she grabbed her pack and tossed one of the towels over her now nude form before sliding the door back open. "Holy shit that's cold..." she muttered as the freezing air hit her. She stood her ground though, heading across to the offering area and opening her pack, the monkeys' gaze following her as she did so. As she reached the low, makeshift altar, she reached into her pack and pulled out several bundles of fruit and stepped back.

What looked like one of the females stepped out of the bath, headed over to the fruit, grabbed a few choice pieces, and headed back in, offering it to the largest male herself. He munched on a piece for a moment, before nodding and making happy sounds. After that, the rest of the monkeys also made happy sounds and made room in the hot springs for the two women.

By that time, Enalia's teeth were chattering so she spared no time getting in, leaving her towel on the edge and her pack on top of it. The relief and warmth was instant. "Oh yeah, that's where it's at."

Coming from a planet of ice the temperature was barely noticeable to Thex as she followed Enalia. The behavior of the monkeys brought a smile to her face. They'd probably developed to live among the hot springs for defense and simply didn't bother the humans bringing them gifts of food.

The heat from the hot spring sent a feeling of relief and relaxation through the sapphire engineers body. " I can see why you like this Enalia. The feeling, view and company is certainly something. " The andorian said a as few of the monkeys seemed to be puzzled by what the blue girl was.

"It certainly is," Enalia replied, relaxing a bit further into the steaming water. She'd run this a few times so the monkeys were familiar with her. Apparently they'd never seen an Andorian before though. "There's nothing like a good hot spring to warm the bones, you know? If you ever want to run this program yourself, that hut at the base has a selection of fruits you can offer to them."

" There's a reason a lot of the cities on andor are built around natural hot springs. Thanks for the program i'll definitely try running it a few times. " Thex said as she leaned back allowing the hot water to flow over her.

After a few minutes soaking, Enalia reached into her pack and pulled out the rest of the goodies in it - a small floating tray and a couple small bottles of sake. Popping them open, she set them on the tray and let them float between the two soaking lovelies. "This is real sake so I didn't bring much of it. Just enough to enhance the scenery."

"So tell me about this Aenar you're hooking up with. How did you meet? What are they like?" This was the time Enalia was into gossip - when she was completely relaxed and enjoying herself.

Thex let out a grin as she picked up one of the small alcohol shot glasses. " Through starfleets date net believe it or not. We've talked a little and we hope to be able to meet face to face. She's a nurse with a love of music and dance. If are DNA results are compatible we'll make a go off it. I know it must seem odd, but this is where the andorians have ended up."

"Yeah, it's unfortunate how things have turned for your people. I really hope this works out for you and if you need some time off, just let me know." Enalia was definitely supportive when it came to family matters. Picking up the other small bottle of sake, Enalia lifted in a small toast. "Here's to a bunch of little andorians running around in your future!" With that, she downed half the bottle and set it back on the floating tray.

Thex took her own glass and downed another drink. She did hope this would work out for her. " Here's to being halfway there." She said to her friend as she placed the bottle back on the tray.

"Speaking of halfway there, the new uniforms have been approved for use and we're authorized to start phasing them in, starting with command staff. That being said, the uniform replicators are going to get a workout once the rest of the crew start getting them." Enalia finished off the rest of her drink and set the now empty bottle back on the floating tray.

" I'll make sure the new codes are added to the replicators. Pity i've liked the current uniforms. Still i'll get use to the new ones." Thex replied.

Sinking back into the hot spring, Enalia moaned a bit as she relaxed. "Yeah, but we're moving to more of an exploratory force according to the admiralty, so they're trying to recreate the legacy of the old red uniforms that we used for like eighty years. We'll have to like it and sell it to the crew. Thankfully the fabric feels nice and is rugged. Supposed to even be stain resistant as well. I saw a demo where they poured EPS plasma over the sleeve and other than a first degree burn on the test dummy, the uniform was untouched."

" Well, I'll have plenty of time to test them out. Especially if we keep ending up fighting gods." The andorian replied as she to leaned back in the hot spring.

"We also need seven hundred fifty new comm badges," Enalia added, almost as an afterthought. "The new design for them got approved as well."

" I'll set a few of my team to start replicating them and getting them connected in the morning." Thex replied calmly.

"Thank you. I know you'll get them done as soon as possible. Just make sure all of the old ones get recycled." Enalia looked up at the sky as snow started falling. "I love relaxing here so much. It just melts the stress away."

" Will do boss and you're right about this place. You can just feel the stress melting away." Thex replied as she leaned back in the hot spring.

There were as many styles of command as there were commanders. Some would follow standard patterns, some would have eccentricities, and learning how to interpret signals and communications from one's captain was the duty of any of the crew who interacted with them.Even the lowliest crewman should know to gangway when the captain was coming through, and even the first officer usually got at least a little chill down her spine when she received the very simple communication, 'Git in mah office!'.

But Rita Paris had spent time getting to know Captain Enalia Telvan, and she was beginning to understand the woman, as well as her sense of humor. So when this particular request came down the line, it meant any one of a number of things. The Captain was in a mood, possibly about any number of things, but most likely Rita was not one of those things. The Captain was having a bit of fun with accents. The Captain was feeling her oats this afternoon and was excited about something. The possibilities were endless.

However, the one thing of which the leggy Lieutenant Commander was not uncertain was that she wasn't in trouble, nothing was on fire and whatever it was would likely engender a conversation. So she checked her uniform and her appearance- she of all officers on the ship always had to be regulation, even if her uniform went out of regulation 125 years ago. Snatching up a PaDD and a spare, the lithe lieutenant locomoted to the turbolift to take it up. Striding across the bridge with a few nods, Rita approached the Captain's Ready Room, assuming the door would open at her approach since she was expected, which it did so dutifully.

"There you are! Hurry and get in here. We have news from the Commodore." Enalia was certainly in a mood. It seemed to be a mix of hyper and frustrated and manic, and she was fiddling with the holographic controls on her desk, trying to clear up a transmission from Commodore Meowlith. Turning the display on her desk terminal, the normally 3D display had been flattened out from all the distortion on the transmission.

Enalia sighed and threw her hands up in the air, leaning back in her chair in defeat. "I have our next mission brief and it seems 'Nia is in over her ears again. On top of that, this interference in the transmission she sent is frustrating. I can't make out anything she said. I was barely able to decrypt the data package she sent."

"Decryption is supposed to be Dauntless' specialty as I recall. Because I don't think whacking the side of the console is going to help, and that's about all I've got to contribute," the fulsome first officer offered. "Route it through to her panel and leave her alone with it for a minute. She might learn something classified or you might just make her wet herself. Meanwhile, you can take a breath and tell me what you know maybe, ma'am?"

"Not a bad idea," Enalia pulled her terminal back around and tapped in a few commands before sending it off to Dauntless' terminal. "Hopefully she can get it sorted soon."

Enalia clicked her terminal off and looked up at Rita seriously. "Anyway, the data package is filled with information. We're to head to New Texas, a far flung Federation colony out in the sticks. They're a bunch of tribal Earth types that headed towards the core of the galaxy to get away from it all, smoke mind altering substances, and stare at the stars. They've set aside a delegation to meet us and relay information, but they've seen some weird things that even they can't brush off that aligns with what we're after."

"I've known a Texan or two, so I think I understand the mindset. What weirdness is afoot that has such a bee in your bonnet, ma'am?" Rita drawled out a Texan euphemism, then seeing the look on the Trill captain's face, realized it was definitely not flying. "Ah, what has you concerned, Captain?"

"They were starting to get answers to their prayers. In person. So they started to pray to other deities. Even ones they didn't think were real. Some answered and others they got answers from... Other deities... Apparently there's a God of useless knowledge named Obweh. You can file that under, 'useless knowledge'." Enalia paused a moment to let that sink in.

Then she continued. "Meowlith found a quantum energy ribbon that she can trace, though. She's heading into some sort of turbulent EM barrier to trace it. I'm assuming that's when she sent the message."

"Wow. That woman has a talent for trouble that even I have to admire," Rita admitted. "Okay, so you start calling for 'sweet mother of all that's busty' and suddenly she's showing up to make you feel inadequate while she answers your prayers. So I'm guessing there's a concentration of energy or a focus... or apparently an energy ribbon, right. Which I guess is energy that moves in a specific wavelength like an aurora borealis or something. Which my people used to see as the bridge between the mortal and the divine. 'The gods made a bridge from earth to the heavens which is called Bifravst' was written around 1220 BC in Snorri Sturluson’s Prose Edda." Rita paused to take in the captain's expression and shrugged broadly.

"What, it's relevant, I've been reading up. We're actually going to meet Odin, which is oddly fascinating to me, and I don't want to look like I'm clueless and embarrass... uh, Starfleet," the brassy blue-eyed blonde bombshell broadcast. "So could this be something like that, y'think?"

Enalia looked a bit curious and impressed. "That's actually about what I was thinking. And Odin apparently had a thing come up so he sent Thor." Clearing her throat, Enalia glanced down at her desk. "Try not to swoon too hard when you meet him tomorrow."

Noting the unusual reaction from the normally unabashed pirate queen, Paris deflected to shift the focus. "Pffft! I'm not a fan of redheads, dirty guys who eat their own goats or men who overcompensate with phallic objects," Rita snorted. "Besides, I've yet to meet man nor god who stacks up to what I come home to, so I'll try not to toss damp panties at the god of thunder. Who is a bit of a letdown from the one-eyed god-king. Odin's one of the classic archetypes, like Zeus or Jupiter or Yaweh, credited with creation and being the god of just about everything. He actually fathered Thor with Joro, who was a jotunn, the personification of Earth, which makes her a Gaia analogy."

Shaking her head slightly, Rita blinked rapidly. "Sorry, I definitely did not read all of that, so thank your chief science officer for the infodump there..."

"Actually, he's a blond, his hammer is smaller than you'd think and... Anyway, there's more in the..." Enalia was interrupted by the chirping of her terminal. Clicking it on, her eyes shot up as she saw the reply from Dauntless. "That was a lot faster than I expected."

"Which means either she's as brilliant as she claims, or the message was so broken up there's very little she could do with it. So, what's it today, Ms. Dauntless?" Rita stepped around behind the Captain's chair to see if the image was going to remain flat, in which case she was in position to see what there was to see.

Clicking play, the message started out grainy but smoothed out well and even went full normal 3D after a few seconds, though audio and sometimes the video was a bit grainy still. Farenia was on the bridge of a modern Oberth class, the lights dim and flickering around her as she spoke. "We've breached the EM barrier.... ....Glad we're in an Oberth class... The victorium hull and experimental shielding was perfect for the spatial distortions.... ....was as if space itself was twisting around us.... .... We've discovered a massive.... .... ....it's bigger than any ship.... ....self contained..." Then the video shook and Farenia seemed to scramble for her chair's console. ".....caught... ....tractor beam... trying to send scan...." and then the feed cut out, but not before both of them could clearly see what could only be described as a worldship splayed out on the screens across the back of the bridge. The other crew were definitely busy analyzing it, whatever it was, and the images were clear enough to tell that it was at least several times larger than Enalia's fortress at least.

Enalia leaned back in her chair. "Damn I'm glad that woman has nine lives... Either that or she's lucky as fuck or she'd have been dead years ago..."

"I'm sure she'll be fine, Captain," Rita reassured the spotted starship commander. "Sonak theorized at one point that some sentient life seem to manifest the ability to somehow accumulate an accretion of possibility energy, for use in moments where death seems highly likely. Which they then employ to alter the odds, seeking an unlikely outcome wherein survival or success occurs." Catching the captain's expression, Rita shrugged comically. "What, he doesn't believe in luck, and I am simultaneously one of most unlucky and luckiest women alive, so he had to think of something. And it seems the Commodore is in the same club."

"So, probability physics aside, she's gotten into trouble, and where Meowlith dares to tread, so too dares the Hera?" Paris asked, fingers already tapping at her PaDD to request information about victorium hulls and their relativity to whatever the Hera's hull was composed. "Spatial distortion shielding sounds fun... is that French's department?"

"Yeah, she's definitely one of the luckiest people I know, just like you." Enalia was thoughtful for a moment before continuing. "As for the hull, that would be Thex's department. We don't have the time or resources to coat the hull in victorium - our poly-duranium alloys will have to do. But the Oberth classes tested almost every single system we have aboard other than what's in the pod, so I'm sure if Thex goes over the data we have, she and maybe Dedjoy can come up with something."

Those well-manicured fingers of the extradimensional explorer were already fluttering across the surface of the tablet, assigning the duty to the Captain's yeoman and the chief engineer. "Understood, sharing the file and making the assignment now. So what about that ship? That seemed... large. Hypothesis and analysis, or do we need to call in Science on that one for some dissection of the footage under a sharp and logical eye?"

"Good thinking. In fact, send both files to all the senior staff with assignments." Enalia looked up at the ceiling, letting Rita commandeer her terminal. "Science and ops can run analysis, Intel can do intel things, security can do threat analysis, Engineering get on protections from that EM barrier, Medical and Counseling prepare the crew for whatever we might face."

"Also..." The leopard skinned woman eyed Rita mischievously for a moment before continuing. "Senior staff has been authorized the new uniforms. If they want to try them out, this mission is the one to do it."

“On it, Captain,” Rita muttered as her fingers flew across the surface of the tablet, sending missives to the department heads to move them to the appropriate action, coordinating the efforts of the crew to prepare the mighty starship for the trial that lay ahead of her. Without looking up nor pausing, Rita smirked a sly little expression of her own. “And if you want me out of my ‘golden oldie’ to sell the new uniforms to the crew, I’m going to need some graphics, ma’am.”

"Graphics? What kind of graphics?" Enalia wasn't entirely sure what graphics meant, but she knew that Rita would look good in red. She'd had a mockup made of her in Commander pips with the new uniform and it looked stunning. She just hoped Rita didn't stumble across that file.

“Images of the male and female variants of the uniforms, ma’am? A visual representation of what the uniforms look like so that the crew can visualize themselves in the uniforms,” Rita continued, still not looking up from the PaDD. In truth, she was still loathe to give up her old uniform, which had been her boon companion for so long. Hell, someday she even imagined she might add that additional solid ribbon to the sleeve. But life had moved on, the universe had changed, and Starfleet had changed the uniform regs, as they seemed to do so often.

But she was clinging to the past, and she knew it. Command wore red now, and she was quite firmly entrenched as command. While the Captain had been generous enough to allow her to wear her old uniform amongst the sea of grey and black that were the modern uniforms, this was a none-too-gentle nudge to get Rita to embrace the future, in a literal sense. This was the next change to the uniforms, and it actually addressed her concerns about the sheer darkness of the uniforms. Instead, Starfleet was moving back to bright colors, to reflect having come through the Borg war and the Dominion war. Rita read the reports- there were more exploratory vessels being sent out, more recruits joining from hundreds of world, and the optimism of her age seemed to be making a comeback.

Of course, Rita hadn’t had anything to do with that. She’d only been here for a few months, and she strongly suspected that perhaps a dozen people not on the USS Hera even knew she existed. So while she could take no credit for it, still, it seemed the spirit of the 23rd century had indeed arrived with her, and a change was making its way through Starfleet. Which meant that she had no excuse to dogmatically stick to her old anachronistic uniform. She wasn’t a member of a 2268 crew, she belonged to the crew of a starship in the year 2395, almost 2396 if she read her calendar correctly. Which meant that, like it or not, it was time to get with the times.

As she had been tapping away lost in thought, the silence caught her attention, and Rita blinked, realizing that the captain was looking at her with a mixture of bemusement and curiosity. “I’m… sorry ma’am, I, ah, was … I missed that last bit. What were you saying?”

"I was saying that the holographics are already loaded and can be brought up at any time," Enalia clarified, not having said anything. "You know, this mission would be a good time to wear it. We might need a more... Diplomatic look."

“Yes, ma’am,” Rita replied, then sighed. “It’s funny… I fought so hard to get out of that color. Red was communications, security and engineering, and I was determined not to be some bridge ornament with a transponder stuck in my ear reporting the news to the men who made the command decisions. I fought and scrapped and argued so hard to get into command gold, because I wasn’t gonna be some trophy wife or arm candy for some smug starship captain. I was gonna get out there and make a difference. And I did… even if no one but Sonak knows it in this universe.”

“But I guess I can’t escape it. You’ve been more than fair letting me wear my old uniform, captain, and I’ll forever be grateful to you for that. But it seems the times they are a-changin, and my complaints about those uniforms and were apparently reflected back at Starfleet Command. We’re going back to those colorful uniforms that broadcast our presence, that let people know we’re here to help. Which means I’m out of excuses.” A chagrined smile settled on the face of the old-school officer. “So I guess I’m going back to crimson after all… a hundred and thirty eight years after I managed to get out of it!’

“I know, I know, example to the crew, morale and discipline, and it’s off-putting if I am representing Starfleet and then we aren’t uniform in our appearance, I get it. I do,” Rita stepped back from around the back of the captain’s desk, then sat primly on the edge of the small couch in the ready room. ”To your credit, I know you aren’t making this an order, and you’re letting me make the choice on my own. You are just hinting, and… it’s a small thing to ask, Captain. And given all that you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do. I’ll put my old uniform in a museum display and get with the times.”

"Thank you," Enalia smiled kindly at the heartfelt admission. "If it helps any though, this generation has always seen red as command. In fact, for almost eighty years, everyone wore a red and black uniform so even the older generations don't know any other colors. When we went back to using gold and teal, I honestly think the admiralty were too attached to red to give it up so command kept it."

Then she couldn't help but chuckle with a sudden thought. "On top of that, it hides any blood and dirt they might get on them, so that might be the idea as well. Hide the evidence that anyone in command is mortal and let the others gape in awe. But seriously, the two of us at least need to provide a stunning example to the rest of the crew, and I know you'll be the best poster girl for it that Starfleet could ask for. If they see you in it, they might burn out the uniform replicators trying to get one."

That brought an uncharacteristically bashful smile to the face of the first officer, and she nodded, the bangs that framed her face hanging down in front of it. Running her fingers through it to push her hair out of her eyes, Rita looked back to the captain. "I'll get changed, just.. you'll have to give me a minute. And I'm keeping my old phaser- I can't aim that little dustbuster for the life of me, and in the heat of the moment I always forget which button is which. Gimme a knob and a trigger, you know?"

"If you gave up yours, I'd have to give up mine. Perks of command, as they say." Enalia chuckled softly.

As the captain spoke, the sentimental spacefarer plucked at the broken gold braid that shadowed the solid one on her sleeve. "All good things, right?" she said softly, then stood, turning to the replicator. "Computer, you have the designs of the new approved uniform models loaded and ready, correct?"

=^= Affirmative, Commander =^=

"Then please replicate me a modern uniform in command red, if you please. Minidress version, and I'll need some black tights to go with it." Rita ordered as she sat down to start unzipping her boots. The replicator hummed, then beeped because it didn't have room to make the hosiery until she removed the uniform. Boots removed, Rita stood to retrieve the bright crimson uniform, at which point the replicator hummed to life again and created the tights in her size that she'd requested. "Better make me a pair of scants to match the uniform too, computer."

Standing, Rita shrugged smoothly out of the black leggings, then pulled the old gold minidress off over her head and held it out at arm's length. Which was when the captain discovered that apparently on Wednesdays, Paris wore pink under her uniform, as she had a matching balcony bralette and a pair of high-cut bikini panties in a matching shade of bright pink. At no point would the spotted captain ever have imagined such lacy underthings were lurking under at antique uniform.

While Rita was temporarily distracted, Enalia punched up a command override on her terminal she had already prepared and switched Rita's comm badge code over to a new one that happened to be in her pocket. She then feigned interest in the sudden strip tease in her office.

"We had some wild times, you and me, huh? Blue and the gold, brave and the bold. But we're part of a new generation now, and we can't just represent the old Starfleet anymore. We have to live in the present, so we can build the future." With that, Rita bent to reverently lay the old uniform down like a fallen soldier, unable to prevent tears from coming. It was ridiculous to get so emotional about something as silly as her old uniform, but the 2257 Starfleet pinup girl was sentimental to a fault, and she was always terrible at saying goodbye. Even to things that were just mementos of days gone by.

"I'm sure we can find a way to preserve your old friend if you like," Enalia offered.

Grabbing the hosiery out of the replicator, it hummed again manufacturing a pair of 'granny panty' briefs for the uniform. Paris knew from experience they would be necessary given her abundant assets, which always made skirts ride shorter in the back. Deftly sliding into the hose, Rita snatched the scants and wriggled into them, checking to insure that her slender profile panties were not visible past the scants, which of course they were not. Grabbing the uniform itself, the feisty first officer pulled it on over her head, got a bit stuck, discovered the neck zipper, then managed to get herself wrestled into the uniform proper. Unclipping her custom 2260's 'starburst' comm badge, she clipped it onto her left breast, securing the magnet behind it before zipping up the neck and shuffling it a bit on her frame.

Reaching down, she grabbed one of her boots and shoved her left foot in, expertly redressing as if she had done drills to see how fast she could get uniformed. Which, being Rita, she had. Settling into place in front of the captain's desk, Rita struck a pose and modeled the bright red minidress.

"So...?" she asked, half expectantly and half with genuine vulnerability.

Standing and coming around her desk, Enalia palmed a couple small pieces of gold in her pocket and smoothly adjusted Rita's collar and ran one hand over where her rank pips and comm badge were, deftly swapping out the two she needed to in the hopes that Rita wouldn't notice immediately. "I think you look stunning in a very commanding and professional way. Even a Vulcan kolinahr master would turn and take notice."

Stepping back to lean against her own desk, she set the old comm badge and black pip on Rita's antique uniform. "I'll expect you to wear this from now on, you know."

Inhaling deeply, for impressive effect, Rita let it out slowly. "Yes ma'am, I know. It's the uniform of the day, and I have to set the example. I'll get used to it. And I'll put old goldie in a nice frame or make a mannequin for her or something. I mean, not like she was an original anyway- I've been spitting them out of the replicator for months now." Realizing she was rambling, Rita noticed the swap of her comm badge as well and pouted slightly, though she said nothing. "Daddy always said it's not the uniform, it's the man inside it that matters. Of course, he said it to Albert and it was always the 'man' in the uniform, but the point remains.... wow, I really do not like that emblem at all..."

"It's the person that makes the uniform, not the uniform that makes the person. And the two pillars symbolizes that you're never alone. The outline of the delta shield symbolizes that our journey goes on, even when one part ends." Enalia had studied this part well, just in case. "I think it's well thought out and a lot more meaningful than our old symbol, don't you, Commander Paris?"

That brought forth a snort. "Commander Paris was my father. I never get used to hearing it... somehow it always makes me think someone's talking to my dear old daddy over my shoulder when I hear that. As for the emblem, well, I can't hold onto the past forever, Captain. I'll get used to it," Rita tried to sound optimistic, but as it always did when she was insincere, it was incredibly obvious. "How do you live without a mirror in here? Don't you check your gig line before you take to the bridge?"

"Your dear old daddy isn't first officer of my ship. You are." Enalia chuckled softly. "Computer, mirror." With a chirrup, a mirror slid down out of the ceiling in front of the fish tank. "Does that help?"

"Yes, thanks," Rita said absently as she fidgeted with the new uniform. "You would have kicked dear old daddy's ass up between his shoulder blades once he started explaining just how you were doing everything wrong and how you should..." the chatty commander trailed off at that. "Uh, ma'am, did they change the rank pips too? I think I'm supposed to have a black one here..."

"No, Commanders have three gold pips, so that's correct." Enalia was grinning like a Cheshire cat as she came up behind Rita to check her over.

"Ah, didn't you just promote me back to lieutenant commander last month, ma'am?" Rita started, before a nonstop stream of protests and muttering began. "I mean, even counting my rank from... well, to be fair, I was frocked a commander, but we were still in all of the paperwork, but still- Captain, I must protest! The crew will see it as favoritism. I mean, you just promoted me, and according to Starfleet regs... well, at least the ones I remember, I'm supposed to serve as a lieutenant commander on active duty for a minimum of..."

"Eighteen months," Enalia replied, picking up a PaDD and offering it to Rita. "And since we reverted your promotion date to your original one that means you have about one hundred thirty years time in grade. Is that math incorrect?"

"Ah... hundred and thirty, yes ma'am," Rita muttered. "I'm not going to win this one, am I, Cap'n? You want a commander as first and the Commodore approved it and I can complain about getting promoted but it makes me look like an ingrate, doesn't it?" The look in the captain's eyes said it all, so Rita just rolled hers and set her jaw. "It's... thank you, Captain. It demonstrates the amount of faith you have in me, and I'm grateful."

Turning to regard the Trill captain, Rita Paris did her best impression of the commanding officer's own lopsided smirk. "So in the middle of nowhere in deep space, you hit me with a starship and found out your ship had a ghost. By morning you know you had a predestination paradox onboard, but you gave me reign to see what I'd do. I saved your ship, and when transfers took half the crew, you made me your first, because you said I was the only one who could be your new XO. Like you knew that was predestined, too. One last puzzle piece that had to snap into place for everything to go right."

"But that part you couldn't have known. That part was just you, banking on me." The smile that came up was a tearful wavering smile, and Rita Paris draped her arms over the captain's shoulders to enfold her in a hug. After all, they had privacy, Rita's instincts told her it was fine and she was moved by the moment, carried along by the emotional tide which was the ebb and flow of her life. Squeezing the pirate princess to her tightly for a few seconds, Rita whispered. "You're a hell of a captain, Enalia Artan Telvan. I'll be your commander until somebody better comes along, or I show up from the future or another dimension or something." Pulling back, Rita rolled her eyes as she shook her head. "It's my life, I've learned to expect the unexpected."

Enalia was always up for a good hug and this one she had no resistance against. "I'm an excellent judge of character and I'll hold you to that because while we're out there on that bridge we can make a difference. Computer, drop my holo-disguise." With a chirrup, the old uniform faded and revealed that she had been wearing the new uniform the whole time. "Now what do you say we show them just what kind of a difference we can make?"

Mopping away the tars, Rita made herself bridge presentable in about 5 seconds. Gesturing broadly, she ushered the captain toward the exit. "After you, Captain Telvan."

"Sneaky damn pirate," Rita grinned as she muttered under her breath.

There was considerable debate waging within the mind of Commander Rita Paris, which was unusual. One of her strengths was the ability to quickly and decisively arrive at a course of action, then to pursue it without looking back. It made her an excellent pilot, and a stellar officer. Command was no place for indecision and waffling. Which brought her to the current moment, pacing outside the VIP quarters where the captive goddess Hera was being contained. Tomorrow, she was to be transferred to the custody of gods from another pantheon, who Rita assumed were in some sort of agreement with Starfleet.

None of which had anything to do with why she was here, nor with what she was contemplating.

Instead, the goddess of women, matrimony, family, home and hearth, had gotten her to thinking. All of her life, Rita Paris had set her sights on the stars, and pursued that goal with a zeal matched by few. It had taken her to the edges of the galaxy, to other dimensions, alien vistas, and through time itself. Which had left her with few regrets- in her lengthy yet relatively short lifespan, she had explored far more than most would in a dozen lifetimes, and survived far more circumstances that would have destroyed a lesser woman.

Yet, of late, her mind had turned to other possibilities, and she was uncertain if it was the influence of the matron goddess whom she had captured taking her revenge, or if perhaps being cut off from everyone and everything she had ever known had shocked her system. Whichever it was, she found her thoughts traveling unfamiliar paths in her mind, which disturbed her. Now here she was contemplating breaking protocol that she herself had established for good reason, for a justification that she herself could not even clarify.

Faint of heart ne’er won the day, Rita. Stepping up to the doorway she nodded to the beefy security personnel stationed there. “Gentlemen. No matter what, I leave this room alone- is that understood?”

The security officers exchanged somewhat confused expressions, but they shrugged and nodded. “Yes ma’am,” the second class petty officer offered, the senior of the pair.

“Computer, unseal this hatch. Authorization Paris, Rita, LTCDR, 8675309,” she called out to the overhead, which chirruped and responded.

=^= What was your mother’s first name? =^=

“Valentina,” Rita replied.

=^= Double identity check confirmed =^= the computer intoned as the door slid open to VIP quarters #11, the current residence of one Hera, wife of Zeus and queen of the Greek pantheon of Olympus.

Looking up from her fainting couch, Hera smiled politely at her new guest. Whatever she was thinking or plotting, well hidden behind that facade of hers. "Commander Rita Paris. It pleases me to see you again. I feel we've come to understand one another a bit better over our time together. I'd like to think we're borderline friendly, but... I probably shouldn't push it, should I?"

“Given that I’ve gained a considerably greater understanding of just who you are over the course of our association, I started by thinking of you as a petty tyrant with terrible motivations who committed unspeakable acts on whimsy, and it hasn’t really gotten much better? No. I most definitely would not define us as friendly, friends, or anything remotely close.” Framing the perspective that she’d gained of the petty goddess aloud like that firmed her resolve, and thus, Rita Paris did what she always did in such moments- she changed course.

“I’ve just come to check on you to insure that you’re prepared for your transfer. While your request for asylum is being considered, we want to insure that you are prepared to be handed over to the Norse pantheon.” While it all sounded reasonable, and there were elements of truth in the statement, it wasn’t the truth. Which meant that when she spoke, it was readily evident that Paris was being dishonest to the most oblivious person, which Hera most certainly was not.

"Though I know your people have done horrible things in the name of war, how about we not discuss my own misdeeds before I start reminding you of animal cruelty and testing or asking how many times you squashed a bug just because it was bothering you." Hera was definitely no fool and she grew serious at the mention of her impending transfer. "So for now, how about we dispense with the pleasantries and pretenses and tell me why you're really here." It wasn't so much a request as a statement of fact or an order.

The time-tossed temptress forced a smile, a perfunctory close-lipped affair that possessed no warmth nor mirth. Making demands was the fastest way to get Rita Paris to dig in, resist and to get nothing out of her. Hearing it alongside a comparison of human history to Hera’s misdeeds only confirmed her choice to keep her own counsel. “No, I don’t think so. I gave you the benefit of the doubt a few times now, and I’ve had cause to regret it. I genuinely had some hope that you might have some redemptive quality. But it seems my idealism seldom survives contact with the modern world”

“I’d get yourself together and prepare to be delivered over to those who implicitly understand you. Some folks who are more on the same level as you, who decided to work with the insects instead of… whatever it is you call what you do.” With that, Paris turned to leave.

Hera stood and tossed her hands out to the side exasperatedly. "Well, since my belongings were confiscated and all I have is the clothes I'm wearing and my request seems to have been perfunctorily denied... I'm ready now. Perhaps my new captors will dein to execute me in a few hundred years so I can once again be with my husband."

The eyes of the lost navigator narrowed as she half-turned to regard the captive warlord. When she spoke, there was an acidity to her words that was certainly something new coming out of the hard-luck heroine. “You declared war on most of the civilized galaxy and destroyed a planet, causing millions of deaths and marring their culture forever all because you were so irked that your husband was unfaithful. You could have ended yourself at any time, so don’t give me that ‘maybe I’ll be reunited with my husband’ crap. If that was your goal, you could have accomplished that a long time ago. And you wonder why asylum was denied. You lie like you breathe. Patron saint of women my ass.”

Hera narrowed her eyes as well. "Oh, so you approve of suicide? When you're summoned against your will into a universe you left peacefully by people that think they're a little more civilized now because they have starships and replicators rather than books and democracy? Then when you try to figure out why you were summoned and try to make your new home there, everyone blames you for their problems and tries to kill you, even when you're warning them that there's some major shit out there that's about to splatter their so called advanced civilizations all over the place in a heartbeat? I should have just rolled over and let myself die? Thrust an anathame into my beating breast and gone silently into the aether so they could summon me again? Is that it? Because if so, your civilization has gone backwards and I should have tried harder to wipe you out."

"As for you... You should have slit my throat when you had the chance and let my blood run across your hands. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about living in a galaxy that no longer has a place for me. I might have been summoned elsewhere as my whole self rather than some fragmented ghost of who I was. But no, you showed mercy..." Hera turned away to once more stare out one of the windows, her arms crossed. "Next time, keep your mercy..."

When she began, the voice of the all-too human woman was low and soft, and she did not turn around to address the starship's namesake. "Starfleet wanted you dead. The Commodore, the Captain, they expected you dead. But nope. Dumb ol' Rita thinks the goddess of home and hearth, of women and family and matrimony, this couldn't just be about getting pissy with the universe over her husband sticking his spear into every cleave he could find. There's gotta be more to her than that. You can't have lived that long and seen so much, and just be so small and... petty."

"But you showed me, all right," Paris snickered, shaking her head. "Every chance you got, you made sure I knew exactly how horrible you were, how heartless, all of the terrible things you'd done because you got off on watching me recoil. Because you have no compassion left, just a perverse joy in showing off just what a repugnant life form you were before we stopped you, and how you have no remorse... none. I'm not sure if you think you were justified or if that literal god complex of yours just renders you above it all while you feed off our psychic energy like a parasite."

At that, Paris turned, her eyes red but there were no tears. "I wanted to believe in you, Hera. For Meroset, for all those people across the galaxy you casually murdered with your troops and your chariots. I so desperately wanted to believe that there was some part of you worth redeeming, some tiny flicker of decency and nobility left to you. But there's none. Joke's on the stupid Earth girl, hah hah, she's no goddess, just a selfish vile thing with power."

"Enjoy your imprisonment. I hope they leave you locked up long enough for you to realize what you truly are, so that you can understand why the least merciful thing I could have done to you... is to let you live." By the time starfaring explorer was done venting her spleen, the voice of the embittered young woman was little more than a hiss, and she set her jaw in a scowl that looked unnatural on her face, yet not ingenuine.

When Hera spoke, it was soft and sounded decidedly vulnerable. "I already know what I am. I know what I was. I was a mother to your people and several others. I guided civilizations when they needed it. In this day and age... I'm just a failed summon brought about by some vengeful soul. The only powers I woke up with were driven by anger and you bled the last of that off. I saw everything I did as I did it, but what choice did I have but to just go along with it. I can't even tell you why I really did any of it..." A slight sob escaped the ancient being's lips as she covered her face with one hand.

Eventually she was able to compose herself enough to turn and face Rita, tears on her face. "Yeah, I'm the monster you think I am. But if I could make one last selfish request of you... Even though I don't deserve it, please don't tell any of your three kids about this version of me. They deserve better than the nightmares those stories would give them."

The expression of bitter cosmic disappointment was unmoved by Hera's speech, until she mentioned children, at which point Rita Paris' jaw dropped. Indecision warred within her as this was, she realized, something of the reason she had come to see Hera one more time, and come alone. Because deep down she had wanted to ask if such a thing might come to pass, or if it were even possible given their extremely improbable lives. While she didn't want to give Hera the satisfaction of knowing she had struck home, Paris' ever evident emotional expression betrayed her. "Th-three...?"

"In this universe, yes. That is the family I see for you and your Vulcan husband." Hera looked down at the floor, a few more tears slipping free. "That was one of my favorite duties on Meroset. The locals were facing a declining birth rate because of their long lives and most of them were sterile. Those colonists... As far as I'm aware, not a single one was born after I arrived. Over a billion were born in my care on the homeworld. Their lives were harsh, but their increasing sterility has been cured for probably ten thousand years or so."

Rolling her eyes, Rita Paris growled under her breath then shook her head. "All right, I still don't agree with it at all, but... look. A Deltan doctor I once met on Risa gave me a little life philosophy that I think applies to you. So if I was right, and there is still some spark of who you were in all those stories and legends, then maybe you could try it. It's simple- be better. Be who you are, and make your way through the universe. But as you do so, every day, in some way, be a little bit better. Give a kind word instead. Keep your calm instead. Be you, but be a better you."

"Because the universe really could use a better you, Hera."

"Having been the first to 'die' and enter the Aether... And now seeing this galaxy as it is..." Hera shook her head. "I'm not so sure you're right about that. I'm just a senile old woman trying to relive her glory days. I couldn't even get you pissed off enough to sentence me to death or kill me for my crimes against your people. The others may have found a way to survive and a new place, but..."

Struck by inspiration, Paris raised her chin and looked archly at the fallen goddess. "You said you owed me, and that you'd grant me any boon within your power. Well, being a better person is a choice- we make it every time we make any choice, and that's well within your power. You might not know the difference between right and wrong anymore, but you know how to figure it out. You can still recognize mercy and kindness and goodness, and you are capable of making that choice. So if your word is good for anything, that's the boon I'm asking of you. Be better. Be a goddess I can tell my kids about someday."

Hera looked up in surprise, her tear streaked face and eyes wide in shock that a mortal would request something so selfless as a boon. "That... I believe that is within my power, yes..." An inner light glowed within Hera for a moment as the contract for the boon was sealed. The light soon faded, but the contract had been sealed and Hera could do no less than be her best now. "Thank you..."

"Ah, I still meant those terrible things I said," Rita muttered. "But where there's life, there's hope. Being a better person is most definitely within your power, because we mortal insects can manage it, so I think the high and mighty can swing it. Something tells me Hera and the Hera aren't quite done with one another yet, which means we'll probably meet again. So show me, Hera." A chagrined half-smile settled on the face of the heroine of another age, one of dubious but unmistakable hope.

"I deserved them and more." Hera wiped her face dry with her hands but a few more tears slipped free. "To think I would learn such an important life lesson from a Human... If I have any more children, they'll be named after you. Thank you, Rita Paris. I will always remember you."

Handing the weepy goddess a napkin, Paris figured it was time for a joke to lighten the mood.

"Well, they do say I'm unforgettable..."