The schedule of the ship's surgeon was a busy one, as was the schedule of the first officer. But despite both of them having opted to work 12 hour shifts, at 19:00 hours both were scheduled to be off duty. Which was why it was a curiosity to the young El Aurian physician that they had an official request to meet the full-figured first officer on Deck 8 at 18:00 hours. While she was known to be quite social in her off hours, Lieutenant Commander Paris was known to be professional during duty hours. Which made it a bit of a confusing request that she would summon the chief medical officer to the deck where her quarters were to be found- after all, she was not shy about visiting Sickbay for her medical needs.

A mystery, albeit minor, but a mystery all the same.

Doc Dael approached the indicated quarters with a smile in place. The day had been long but productive, and they were always happy to see Rita.

"Good evening, Lieutenant Commander. Doctor Asa Dael, reporting as ordered. How can I serve you?" they said brightly.

"Good to see you Doctor," the gold-clad lieutenant commander replied offering a somewhat chagrined smile. "It turns out, I owe you an apology. It seems in all of the recent excitement, I appear to have overlooked something rather significant, and it has shorted you of one of the benefits of your position. So, time for me to own my mistake and remedy the situation."

Puzzled, Asa cocked their head to the side, utterly confused. "I'm not aware of anything I'm lacking, but if you say so..." they trailed off quizzically.

“I do indeed,” Paris waved her hand before the door she was currently standing before, and the door slid open revealing vastly spacious quarters not unlike the anachronistic astronaut’s own. However, these lacked the vintage room dividers and the small touches of personality that marked the quarters of the curious commander of another age. Instead, these were simple and stylish, decorated in muted reds and browns and earthtones.

“Senior staff are the members of the crew who are prepared to lay their lives down before any others,” Paris lectured as she strode slowly into the vast quarters, easily four times the size of the quarters in which Asa was currently billeted. “They stand between the rest of the crew and danger more often than not, and the perks that they receive in return are seldom more than additional responsibilities and a lot of paperwork. This is yet another one of those responsibilities, if you will.”

“In starship combat, the prow of the vessel is highly likely to be damaged in a battle. Particularly with these viewports on the bulkheads that extend to the overhead. Thus there is great risk to those whose quarters are located there that should the shields fail and a hull breach occur, they might just lose their personal possessions. Sure, replicators cheapen the value of a lot of things, but we all know that mementoes can be very important, and gifts can often be touchstones to lives with which we no longer have contact.” Pa7using in the lecture, Rita Paris turned and smiled.

“You are senior staff, Doctor Dael, and this is Officer Country here on Deck 8. This is where the Captain, myself, Sonak, and all of the rest of the senior staff maintain our quarters. And as the Chief Medical Officer, it is your privilege to live here as well. Not without hazard, as I mentioned- they don’t give us these great big quarters just for the view. But if you would like a bit more living space, this is an oversight I have not yet tended to, and this is your right as CMO.”

“Wow,” Asa replied, taking in the large quarters in which they found themself. “This is…something. The view is really, really nice.”

Turning to Rita, the Doctor felt the open space surrounding them and said, “What do I do with all this space? Heck, I’ve never had this much room to myself!” They were smiling as they asked though, clearly happy to be welcomed to Officer Country.

“Well, I myself am also used to much smaller quarters, so I broke it up into basically an apartment. That was my solution,” Paris offered, gesturing expansively to the wide open space. “You could choose to clear the floor of furniture and have a vast open space, or just learn to adapt to the generic layout that’s offered here. This is one of these things that Starfleet is pretty liberal about in the modern day- your quarters should be an expression of you, who you are, what you stand for, where you came from and where you’re going. Maybe cover the walls with alien vistas you want to visit. Or order shelves and cover them with books.”

“You are limited by your imagination and the patterns in the replicator, Doc. So this is you. You’ll have Dox as a neighbor to port, and Counselor Jurot to starboard. The captain and I are right down the corridor, and down near the turbolift is Lieutenant Dauntless.” Turning to regard the young El-Aurian physician, Paris smiled gently. “Not much foot traffic on this deck, you might notice, because frankly there’s not much reason for the crew to be on this deck, and most of the time we’re busy working, so even those of us who live on this deck are here very often.”

Their mind spinning with possibilities, Asa’s eyes had taken on a somewhat manic quality, the beginnings of plans that may or may not be all that successful. “This is going to be fun!” they enthused. “I’ll clear out my previous quarters and move things down once I’m off duty.”

Watching the excited junior officer’s eyes dart about the spacious quarters as they considered the possibilities, Rita Paris smiled, a genuine little piper’s smile. Had she ever been that young and enthusiastic? It seemed like a million years ago that she was a Lieutenant, excited to be moving into spacious senior officer’s quarters onboard the Constitution that were a fifth the size of this palatial quarters. Seeing Dr. Dael boggle at the space, the perk, the view and the possibilities.

Which somehow made her feel young again.

“Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me, Doctor. I’ll be happy to help however you need, and I look forward to seeing how you express yourself in your own space,” Rita offered, although she was confident the frail physician would need no help in this matter. Young and excitable they might be, but they were destined for greatness, of that Rita Paris was certain. After all, she had seen officers come and go, and given her impressions of them, history had often borne out her intuition in such matters. One day the galaxy would know the name Asa Dael, and until then, it was her job to help foster that seed of greatness.

"What am I doing here?" she thought. Counselor Avender Jurot sat alone at a table in the Hera's Ten Forward lounge. She felt empty- for the first time in over seven years, she couldn't feel the bond with her Izmadi. He was assimilated by the Borg, but she could still feel him across all the distance that separated them. That was a benefit of being a telepathic race. She was never really alone.

However, two days before she felt that bond break, and she knew that meant only thing: he was dead.

Now she sat in the ship's lounge aboard an unfamiliar vessel. She had a hole in her memory of over a year, caused by an intrusive "god." Until two days ago, she was kept under 24/7 guard.

She knew what she'd tell a patient with her issues: "try to relax." So, there she sat, with an empty drink glass, watching the stars go by.

Meanwhile, Alex completed his after action report, which was pretty grim. This first outing for him and French was not a good one. They got their asses handed to them and French almost died. If Alex hadn't got her out when he did she surely would have succumbed to her injuries from fighting that Minotaur. But that was the past, they were back on the Hera and recovering. Still he could not shake his feelings for the Counselor. So it was time he found her and told her how he felt.

He opened his communicator. "Computer, where is the ship's Counselor?" He asked
[Ensign Avender is in ten forward] came the reply. And he closed his communicator and took off for ten forward.

When he got there, the doors were in open mode so he stopped at the doorway and scanned the room. He found her sitting at a table near the bulkhead, staring out into space. He headed directly for her table and stopped mere feet away. "Earth to Earth Angel come in Earth Angel." He quipped jokingly in an attempt to break the trance she seemed to be in.

The Betazoid beauty felt his presence before she saw him. She turned to see a Security officer.

"I'm sorry, lieutenant, I thought I was no longer required to be under guard," she said.

Alex smiled; "I'm not here to guard you Avender, consider me a friend, someone who just stopped by for a drink and maybe some conversation with his favourite Counsellor. You mind if I join you?" He asked in a soft unassuming voice.

Avendar smiled. "Of course. Please sit down."

Alex took the chair directly across from here. "Thank you. So tell me, how are you feeling? I understand you really took on a lot out there." Said Alex trying to ease his way into it.

"I was physically unharmed," the Betazoid said. "I'm sorry, lieutenant, have we met?"

"How silly of me. Yes, we have met. You had a counselling session with me upon my arrival here on the Hera. I guess your short term memory was affected by the encounter you had. I for one really hope you get your memory back as I feel that we were becoming friends." He said hoping something might spark.

Avendar smiled. "Well, more than just my short term memory, really. I've lost fourteen months of my life. I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."

"Well it's not everyday I get the chance to make a first impression for the second time, and with the same person, so here goes. Hello." As he stuck his hand out for hers. "My name is Alex Sexton. What a pleasure it is to meet you again." And he gave her his best smile.

Avendar smiled a sad smile, and took the offered hand. "Avendar Jurot."

The look on her face said it all. There had to be some way that he could bring her out of this depression. "Look, I understand, about as much as anyone who hasn't lost their memory, what you must be going through. But let's look at what you can be thankful for. First off, you're as beautiful as the heavens. Secondly, you were not physically disfigured or hurt, and lastly you're here to talk about it. So I'm of the opinion that you are ahead of the game on this one, and should concentrate on the things we control, and not the ones we don't. Do you agree?" He asked.

The Betazoid beauty laughed softly. "Maybe you should be the counselor instead of me," she said. "Thank you for the compliment. You're too kind. I guess in some ways I'm lucky- Gaia didn't kill my body or get a tattoo or something while she had me." She smiled, looking a little happier.

Alex smiled. "I could never be as good as you at your job. I've just done a lot of living." He offered. "But I'd hate to see you stop living a productive life because of this unfortunate side effect of your incident." Said Alex.

"Good point," she said. "it's like waking up from a long sleep."

"I know you never asked my opinion, but I'm going to give it anyway. I think, starting right now, you start living again. And I'm going to make it my personal mission to make sure that your new memories are two times better than the ones you lost. And before you say anything, I know there's no way I could know how wonderful any of your old memories were. But I have some idea of how wonderful your future could be. Because to be honest, I'm very fond of you and I'm hopeful that someday in the near future you might feel the same about me. But there is no rush or pressure. I just want to be here for you so you know you're not in this fight alone!" He said with confidence and his best seductive smile.

"You're fond of someone you've never even met, Alex."

"I understand your confusion. But we have met as I stated earlier. When I came on board the Hera we met. But you wouldn't remember that because of your present condition. We had even made plans to have a meal together. But if you feel it's too soon to go down that road, I understand. I just figured maybe I could help you start some new memories!" He said sheepishly.

"The woman you met wasn't me. She was... well, an ancient goddess who possessed my body," she said. "What can you tell me about her?"

That was unexpected as he didn't know her long at all. He adjusted his position in his chair and decided on the best way to answer this question was to explain why he himself thought she was so amazing.

"Well, that's a great question. Let me start with honesty. You and I had only talked one time, but it was with you in your capacity as the ships counsellor, which means, all barriers and attitudes were dropped at the door. I opened up to you in a way I've never done before. I attribute that to your beauty and professionalism. That tells me, you won my trust immediately. And that allowed the security minded me, to let you in. The Investigative minded me to believe in your ability to do your job. And by so doing, I was able to see you, the real you. On Earth where I'm from there's a thing called Women's Intuition! It works on the premise that woman are born with innate abilities to see things in people depending upon the relationship they have with that person. You being a Betazoid, you would be considered the God of Intuition because you are empathic. Having said that, people who work in my profession develop an intuition also. We know what's good for us and what is not. By the time we had finished my very first session with you, I had determined that you were good for me in a multitude of ways. And I was and still am ready to give you the key to my heart and see where it goes. Now more than before, you need someone with whom you can confide in. You need to regain any confidence that you may have lost. And if only for a season, I believe I could be good for you." He said, noticing for the first time that at some point during his speech, they had joined hands on the table top.

"So, you fell in love with the Goddess?" Avendar asked, raising one eyebrow. She didn't withdraw her hand.

"No...I fell in love with the vision of loveliness I see right here before me. It does not matter what was inside the packaging before, because the first thing you see is what opens the first lock in the sequence, is the physical. Knowing you're an empath allows me to look past anything contrived because we never had our first date, so to me, you are the same. Now I get to find out who you are. Before you were the Counselor. This amazingly beautiful and intellectual being. Now I get to take a look inside, like you were supposed to be doing when I had my coming aboard check up with you. And amazingly enough we get to do that all over again, so you can get a fresh look at me, but this time as you. By the way, the other you did agree to a date by the way!" Said Alex with all the confidence he could muster.

"So the inside doesn't really matter as long as I'm beautiful?" Avendar smiled.

"That's a good try. But it won't work. You never heard me say that. So to clarify what I meant is simply that I never got to know the person you were, we never had our date before the mission. So in a way, I'm lucky because I would have fallen for a fake you and now I have the chance to fall for the real thing." And he smiled as it came out just like he wanted it to. "I mean I'm not sure what your mission was, or even if you had one. But I'm sure glad it happened before we started talking on a personal level." As he made his point.

"You certainly are determined," Avendar said. "Maybe you would've liked the "Goddess" me more."

"Well, we will never know. But the idea of getting to know you stuck from the moment I saw you. Not knowing who or what you were. I'm just happy that nothing worse happened to you down there, cause it could have been worse. Frenchie almost died. So I'm just happy to have this chance to get to know you. Now shall we get something to eat, or would you like to relax and watch a movie? It's a human custom to show his date a good time, so whatever you want to do, im your man!" Said Alex giving her hand a light squeeze.

The Betazoid beauty rolled her eyes and smiled. "I am rather hungry." She picked up her empty glass. ""And I could use another drink."

"Bartender, could you please refill this drink for the lady over there, and have your team prepare something well liked from your menu that comes from Betazed. And some finger foods from Earth. We're starving!" He said with a smile. "And I'll have an ice cold Budweiser." As he waited for the two drinks, he looked back over to the table. He could not believe that fate had dealt him such a hand. She was likely the loveliest female on the ship, her and French of course. But in his mind, for some unknown reason. There was only room for her in his heart. Never had he fell so quickly or so hard. He thanked the bartender for the drinks. "Your food will be with you shortly. Take these chips to nibble on until it comes." Said the man, and Alexi took both drinks in one hand and the chips in the other and returned to the table.

"Here you go, our food is coming. I got you a surprise. Truth is I don't even know what it is, but you should be able to tell me all about it when it gets here." And he sat the drinks down and them himself. "Please, tell me about your home." Requested Alex.

Avendar smiled. "Thank you. My home is a starship currently heading toward the Galactic Core. Tell me about yours?"

"I see what you did there, redirecting like that, but it won't work. But I'll tell you about my home, then I want to know about Betazed. I'm from a place called Chicago, in Indian it stands for smelly swamp. Or something close to that. It sits at the bottom end of a big lake called Lake Michigan part of the five Great Lakes. It's a bustling Metropolis and a beautiful city. Dangerous at times, but hey it's home." And he took a sip of his beer and sat back, admiring the woman he was having dinner with. "Now if you please, tell me about your home world!" And he waited.

The Counselor cocked her head to the right. "I'm familiar with Terran geography. Remember, I graduated from the academy in San Francisco- like you!" She laughed slightly. "Cyndriel, that's what we call our home planet, is beautiful, with blue skies, pink clouds, and cozy warmth. I grew up near Iscandar, which is on the coast of the Thexian Ocean. We used to swim, walk on the beaches..." Avendar stopped suddenly, her eyes becoming misty. "So why did you join Starfleet?"

He realised she was getting emotional, so he reached over and took her hand again, hoping she wouldn't pull away. "There there, We all miss home a little." And he took a deep breath. "I joined star fleet because being a young Police Officer just wasn't cutting it for me. Plus with aliens now on our world, it made my mind wonder about what was really out here so I wanted to see for myself." He told her.

"Alex?”

He looked at her as she said his name. “Yes Avender. What is it?” He asked.

"You're trying too hard. Throttle back. Just be you."

He just smiled. "Point taken. However, one tends to do just that when they are serious about something or someone." As he looked down at his drink, not sure where to direct his attention now for fear of being misunderstood.

The Betazoid beauty raised her glass. "To new beginnings," she said.

Alex liked the sound of that. He raised his glas to meet lightly with hers. Then he took a sip.
"I'm looking forward to it." He said.

Thex was feeling happy as she walked through the medbay doors. The news she's received recently had made her extremely happy and even her problems with the artifacts now felt thousands of miles away. Talking a seat she waited patiently for the duty nurse to call her.

Instead of a nurse, Asa popped out of their office, buzzing with their typical energy.

"Good morning Lt. Commander! How wonderful to see you! Won't you come in? I was just about to grab myself a Horchata from the replicator. Can I get you something?" they called to greet her.

" A warm andorian ale sythahaul of course. " Thex replied as she stood up and headed for one of the empty bio beds.

The doctor retrieved the requested beverage and returned to their office.

Talking her drink from the doctor the engineer gave a polite smile as she took a sip from the tanker. " That's lovely doctor. I have a question to ask you and i need your help with something."

"Well of course, always happy to help!" chirped Dael, walking around their desk with a Horchata in hand for themself. They made a mental note to not get a milky mustache drinking this time, as that did not exactly scream competent professional. Asa took a seat and flashed a warm smile at the Andorian beauty in front of them. "What can I do for you?"

" I need you're help to run a DNA test. I've meet an Anear who interested in dating me, but given my peoples problems, we'd like to have the test run to see if we could have children in the future. " Thex explained calmly as she held up a data crystal.

The doctor leaned over and took the crystal, putting it into a nearby receptacle. "Of course, I would be happy to help. Let's start with a blood draw and complete DNA scan."

They leaned to a bottom drawer and picked up a small hypo and walked around to sit next to Thex. Asa took their tricorder off their hip and began a complete scan of Thex, gathering preliminary data for the blood draw to validate. Once that was complete, they turned and looked at her, asking "Left arm or right? Any preference?"

" I'm okay with any doctor. " Thex said as she rolled up her sleeves.

Seeing a slightly better vein on the left side, Doctor Dael did a quick blood draw and plugged the hypo directly into the analyzer on the side of their desk.

"Shouldn't take but a moment...." Asa said, grabbing a tissue knitter and quickly healing the small puncture the needle made.

While the computer completed a full spectrum DNA analysis, Doc Dael turned and gazed into the Andorian's eyes. "So, this is a big step, huh? A big part of fertility is both parties mental state. So I wouldn't be a good doctor if I didn't ask....how are you feeling?"

" I don't really know. Nervous, hopeful, apprehensive. Just a large list of emotions going through my head. I've been looking for so long and it would be nice to finally meet someone i can attempt to have a future with." Thex replied calmly.

Doc Dael reached over and gently held Thex’s left hand with their right. “Perfectly understandable,” they said in a calm tone. “We will find a way, I know this is important to you. Let me just read the results real quick.”

With a parting squeeze to the others hand, Asa moved back behind their desk and pulled up the results of the bioanalysis on a large PaDD in front of them. They scanned it briefly, making sure to keep their face blank until they read all the results.

“Well, you will need a few injections with some DNA augmenters from the Shedai meta-genome databank for your third sub-helix to be strengthened to be compatible with her primary sub-helix, but beyond that, good news! It looks to be a match!” the doctor chirped brightly.

A smile spread over Thex face as she felt a weight being lifted from her shoulders. " Thank you, doctor, you can't believe the weight that feels like it's been lifted from my shoulders. I'm sure she'll be happy as well."

"I'm so glad," Asa replied with a genuine smile. "We should start treatment one cycle prior to any attempts on the two of your parts. When would you like to begin?"

Thex let out a slight giggle. " We'll need to find a Chan and Thaan to provide the other ingredients first of all doctor. I know my people reproductive biology fell out of the evolutionary tree a few times. "

Asa's ears reddened, "Um, of course, yes, I, uh, didn't know if you....already had them?" they squeaked. "Just let me know whenever you are ready and we can begin treatment. And if you are exposed to any hazardous chemicals between now and then, please let me know. Any changes to your subhelix structure will impact the treatment plan. So, avoid explosions if possible?" the doctor concluded with a wink.

" I'll do my best doctor, but I can't guarantee anything. My job has a habit of involving explosions." Thex said as she slid off the bio bed.

With a chuckle, Asa replied, "No criticism here, I'm a bit death prone myself apparently. Just let me know as soon as you can and we'll figure it out, ok?"

" Will do. Look after yourself Asa." the andorian engineer said as she made her way to the door. She had a clear spring in her step which was obvious to anyone.

"Hnaev!"

There was nobody else in the flight control office at that moment, which was a fact that Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox was abundantly grateful for as she let slip the Romulan equivalent of 'shit'.

Looking at the screen of the small desktop computer interface on the overly spacious desk of the still largely empty desk she had inherited as the new Chief Flight Control Officer, Dox stared in disbelief. Moments ago, a memo from the Captain to arrived illustrating the new uniform guidelines for the senior staff, which she was now a member of. And she was not happy.

Gone would be the comfortable and slimming black and gray suit she was familiar with, showing only a touch of red on the collar and stripes on the cuffs, replaced with a solid red tunic with only a thin black band at the chest line to break up the sea of color. An expanse of bright red, in the case of command and helm, that would serve to accentuate her body issues over her short, round frame. A body type that all the exercise and diet control in the Galaxy couldn't seem to rein in.

Already, the deep red hue shown on the examples shown on the screen pulled her mind back to the insulting nickname she was saddled with at the Academy of barbeque sauce. an epitaph earned by both her overly generous middle and the unusually brown blood her mixed Romulan/human heritage gave her that resembled the condiment.

Slouching back in her chair and sighing, she knew most of the crew would look great in the bright and open new colors and rolled her eyes thinking about how she would likely look like a fat little red troll standing next to most all of them.

Which, of course, is exactly when the door to the office slid open with its characteristic hiss to reveal the First Officer of the Hera, Rita Paris.

Who was, of course, modeling the very uniform that was already making Melanie’s stomach tighten. Of course, she was wearing the minidress version, which no one ever wore anymore, except of course for the woman 130 years out of step with the universe. The perfect pinup girl, who made wearing such a skimpy and short uniform look effortless. She wasn’t even wearing the jet black leggings she had added to her old gold minidress- instead, she was wearing black tights which were far more sheer, and quite clearly showed off the miles the commander ran every morning.

All of which just made the chief flight control officer’s stomach clench up that much tighter.

Noticing the anxious aviatrix’s expression, Commander Paris rather rapidly deduced the cause as those deep, brown eyes roamed across her form, taking in the details and measuring herself against the genetic lottery jackpot that was Rita Paris.

Thinking that she’d try something a bit different to break the internal tension of the lieutenant junior grade she was so fond of, the buxom blonde stopped a few paces from the desk and did a quick 360, pivoting in place to show off the bright red uniform that was being phased in as the uniform of the day. As she did so, Dox couldn’t help but notice that in the first officer’s case, there were apparently some external panties added under the skirt, because it seemed somehow slightly insufficient to cover her rather curvaceous caboose.

“So? You ready to join me in the land of cool drafts and short skirts?” Paris joked, her smile one of pure bemusement and mischief that she hoped would not send Dox into a spiral of body issues and self-shaming.

And it was an effort that was successful, as Dox let out an unintended but wholly pleasant snort with a slight chuckle. She smiled broadly with her eyebrows slightly pursed in a humorous expression. "Uh, I don't think so, Commander." Standing up from her chair to greet the Hera's First Officer, Dox made a pointing gesture with her head to her wide hips and rear. "I think the pants option is definitely more my speed."

Much to Dox's own surprise, she was becoming much more comfortable around Rita Paris, and wasn't automatically jumping to anxiety as a response. She was reading the cues that it was appropriate to be, at least partially, casual in her response and responding accordingly.

"I'll say that the new uniforms certainly look good on you, Comm..." At which point, Dox stopped in her tracks as she was taking Paris' new uniform in as she noticed the three SOLID rank pips on her chest. "COMMANDER!?" She exclaimed with a warm and open mouthed smile.

Of course, Dox had referred to Paris as 'commander' since coming on board. While her rank had been Lieutenant Commander, it was still her position on the ship as First Officer and therefore perfectly appropriate. But recognizing that this new uniform must've come with an official promotion made Dox as positively happy for her new friend as she had been since coming on board. Far happier then she was for her own promotion to Flight Control Chief.

“Ah, yeah…” the curvaceous commander replied, and for the first time, Dox got to watch her fearless first officer look a bit bashful and anxious. “They, ah, first set me as a Lieutenant when I landed here, since their Rita Paris was listed as KIA when she was a Lieutenant. The Captain gave me back my actual rank in reward for saving her and the ship, once she figured out the old throwback was still good for something. And they count my time in rate over that 130 years that I missed, and the fact that I spent three years as a Lieutenant Commander, so…” Paris rolled her eyes and sighed.

“Captain wants a Commander as her first, so a Commander I shall be. Apparently, the brass were impressed that I managed to capture Hera, and… it’s not special favors, I swear I am not sleeping with the Captain or the Commodore, she was just hell-bent on promoting me!” It was definitely a change of pace to watch Paris squirming uncomfortably and trying to rationalize a situation in which she had no control nor effect, but apparently her promotion bothered her that much. Apparently back in her day the only way an officer rose in rank as she did was through sexual favors or blackmail, given the excuses for it she was making.

For her part, Dox was largely unaware of the politics of Paris' day and tilted her head, slightly confused. But one thing Melanie Dox knew when she saw it was anxiety, and she didn't like seeing it on Rita Paris so she wanted to try and say something to help. "Well, I've not been here all that long, but I've served under a few different Commanders on the starbases I was assigned to, and none of them seemed like they did the job half as well as I've seen you do it in just a couple of weeks, and that's just in the help you've given me. So, congratulations."

But not wanting to overstep her bounds or accidentally make the newly minted Commander uncomfortable, Dox stood slightly straighter and tugged down on her uniform. Not quite at formal attention, but in a more professional posture. "That said, you wanted to see me?" Still, enough of a smile rested on her face and tone.

A chagrined and slightly embarrassed expression settled onto the face of the newly minted commander, and she met the eyes of the junior officer with gratitude. “Thanks, Lieutenant. I guess this time it was your turn for the pep talk, eh? See, I told you you’ll make a heck of a senior officer one of these days.”

With that, Paris inhaled, a somewhat seismic event in the case of her particular anatomical attributes. Letting her breath out slowly, she released all of the tension she’d built up, and just like that, was back to standard, confident and ready for anything Rita Paris. “Our next mission, we’re going to be trying something dangerous- nothing new there- but apparently, there is some sort of energy ribbon that we’ll be flying through. And by flying, I mean the Hera in her entirety, and by we I mean you. So while the science and engineering teams work on finding a way for the ship to handle it, the hand on the wheel will be yours.”

“So, rather than spring it on you, I figured we should probably discuss it a bit in advance. This energy ribbon is supposedly some sort of dimensional interface… honestly, it sounds a lot like the Bifrost of old Norse legend, which… well, they used to teach comparative religions and mythology at the Academy, so does that even mean anything to you?”

"After the lunch briefing, I've been trying to catch up on the various pantheons of... Gods... we're potentially going to encounter. It's a lot to take in." Melanie looked down as she collected her thoughts. "But... 'energy ribbon' sounds... familiar. Not just the bifrost. But..."

Rubbing the top of one ear with the other hand on her voluminous hip, Melanie paused mid-sentence before her face burst back to life as her memory caught up. "The Enterprise B! I remember a lecture from the academy about its maiden voyage. It encountered some kind of... energy ribbon that was tearing refugee ships apart. The teacher said that no ship could navigate too close to it." Melanie had a slightly stern look on her face now, fully focused.

Snapping her fingers, Paris wagged a finger at the helmsman, and when she spoke, her voice was excited. “Jim Kirk’s last mission, right! I, ah, we went to the Academy together, so I read up on what he went on to do here and… he was an impressive figure. But yes, I read about that too. Well, apparently Commodore Meowlith found a way, and where the Commodore dares to tread, so to flies the Hera. So, we have some data and telemetry, and like I said, even as we speak the science and engineering teams are working on solutions to put the Commodore’s scouting to good use. Meanwhile, we need you to be prepared to do the impossible.”

Picking up a PaDD from Gonadie’s desk, the sultry Starfleet siren logged into the tablet, then accessed the footage and data packet.

Tabbing 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 Starbase 1 at the very least.

Leaning in close, Dox squinted slightly at the shakey playback. "Ta'krenn..." She muttered out loud in the Romulan dialect of Rihanai. "Pardon. I was thinking out loud. It just means 'look at that'." But she was too focused to lapse into her usual anxiety over letting her Romulan heritage slip out, and was beginning to feel that it wasn't something Rita Paris would judge her for anyway, so she continued.

"Anyway... I don't recognize that... Whatever it was. It doesn't match the configuration of any ships I'm familiar with regardless of its size." The young pilot turned to look up at Commander Paris jabbing a finger at the screen. "But whatever it is... IT'S flying. So flying isn't impossible in there. And they mentioned Victorium shielding was helpful. Is there any good sensor data that came with that message?"

"Yup. Shaky, broken up, incomplete... the usual. But enough to get us on the right track. We've decrypted and defragged it to the best of our ability, so this is what we've got." Tapping at the tablet, those well-manicured fingers flew across the tablet like Paris lived with one in her hand. Which, during shipboard life, she tended to do just that. As the files opened and access was granted, Paris swept a finger over to copy the files to the simulator. Glancing down to Dox, the menace in a minidress grinned like a kid on Christmas morning.

"What do you say we walk through what we just saw and take an analysis of it in pausable holographic real-time simulation, Miss Dox? After all, it's what Starfleet gave it to us for, right?"

"Commander, you just read my mind." Dox replied with a half smirk.

"Well, far be it for me to override a chief in her department," the charming commander chuckled. "But I did send it to the office simulator, so- wanna call in Gonadie to see if she has any insights, or dope this out on our own?"

"Actually, I DO want her mind on this. If we're going to try doing something that's never been done, I don't want to risk overlooking anything and we may need tech that doesn't exist yet to fly in the ribbon. She's currently on helm duty, hold on." Dox walked over and grabbed a PaDD off of her desk and glanced it over for a moment, then tapped her comm badge. "Lieutenant Dox to Ensign Gonadie, please report to the Flight Control Office. I'm calling in a relief for you now. Thank you." Pausing for a moment, Dox tapped her badge again. "Lieutenant Dox to Ensign Seville. Please report to the bridge. I need you to relieve Ensign Gonadie early. Thank you." After a moment, both officers voices chimed in confirming from the communication systems.

Turning back to Commander Paris, Dox tugged on her uniform top to straighten it. "Okay. Let's see what we can see."

Watching Dox take command of the situation and order her people into action, Paris felt a swell of pride. This was not the pudgy kid who stared at her shoes, avoided eye contact and mumbled despite her test scores and flight ratings. This was most definitely not the evasive junior officer whom she had walked in a circle while distracting her with patter. This was not the young woman who had hesitantly walked into this office for the first time a few weeks ago. The young woman standing before her was a by-gosh-and-golly bonafide Starfleet officer. A chief, no less- concise, deliberate, yet respectful to those to whom she issued orders, the surest way to expect respect in return.

A smile spread across the face of Commander Rita Paris, and she had to restrain it from growing too wide, lest her pride in her shipmate's accomplishment be too evident- but Rita Paris was lousy at keeping a secret.

For her part, Melaine Dox was focused on the task at hand but her cheeks flushing their characteristic deep tan hue shoes that she had noticed Rita Paris' smile and appreciated it. She responded with a slight, if awkward smile of her own before continuing. "If we can see what helm was doing... that will tell me what did and didn't work. It might not be much, but it's a start."

"Precisely, Miss Dox," the crimson-clad commander agreed, refocusing back to the task at hand. "Let's get the scenario loaded up and take a look. Ensign Gonadie is a quick study, she'll catch up."

"Catch up to what?" Mona asked as she entered the office. "Oooh, you're wearing the miniskirt." Bending over and lifting Rita's skirt to inspect it, she hummed over the design. "And bloomers too. Very nice stitching and well thought out. I might have to give that a try when it's approved for general officer use."

Far from being irritated or offended by Mona Gonadie's invasion of her uniform's space, Rita arched an eyebrow and chucked a thumb at the replicator on the wall. "By order of the command team, you're approved, Ensign. Computer, please replicate Ensign Gonadie the miniskirt version of the new new uniform, along with a pair of black tights and a pair of scants. I will admit I don't know if hosiery are approved for Miradonians, but it's the uniform. Computer, also add the Paris model explorer's boots in Ensign Gonadie's size. Thank you."

=^= Confirmed, Commander =^=

"Change at your leisure- but for now, we have some derring-do to plan. Lieutenant, I believe this is your briefing?" The cheerful commander stepped back to give the floor to Dox for the meeting, the actual reason they were all there.

Restraining a slight chuckle at Paris and Gonadie's back and forth, Dox cleared her throat slightly to center herself and refocus. "Aye, Commander." The new department chief out her hands behind her back and continued. "Computer. Please activate Holo simulator. Commander Paris' Oberth class program. Thank you."

With a chirp, the offices holo-emitters shimmered to life, and the three officers found themselves surrounded by a three dimensional representation of the bridge of Commodore Meowlith's ship. "So, our upcoming mission will require us bringing the HERA into a largely unchartered energy ribbon notorious for destroying ships that fly into it, Ensign Gonadie. This simulation is based on the data collected by Commodore Meowlith that Commander Paris has compiled for us."

Walking around the simulated bridge, time appearing frozen around her, Dox gestured to the helm. "We need to assess everything they did to successfully get into this... Whatever it is... So we can do the same in one piece and find out what THIS is." Dox then pointed to the simulated viewscreen. "Computer. Advance to the unknown vessel encounter and freeze."

With another chirp, the holographic image shimmered again, skipping forward a few moments to show the impossibly large ship that the Oberth Class Starship encountered. "This is the point where the footage ends. Computer. Restart from the beginning. Thank you." And the scene that Dox and Paris watched in a screen replayed itself for Ensign Gonadie. Moments later, it refroze at the end once again.

"Computer. Begin replay at one eighth speed, please." Dox asked of the computer, then turned to the two attentive officers. "So let's see everything we can see."

As Mona slipped out of her current uniform, revealing a plain black pair of spandex sports bra and undies, she grabbed the new uniform and slipped it on like it was second nature, tossing the old one on a counter so she could take it back to her quarters later. Slipping the tights on, then the bloomers and boots, she kept an eye on the simulation as she did so.

Finished changing, Mona hopped in the new uniform a bit and did a quick mid-air twirl, causing the skirt to flare out. "Very nice... Yeah, that energy barrier looks like it's warping space around them, if these readings are correct." Mona pointed to one of the back science consoles as she stepped into the holo-projection. She then turned and pointed to the helm. "Pilot is using a jinking corkscrew. I'm guessing to avoid the worst of it?" She then looked up at the ceiling dome and watched for any distortions. "Ceiling on the Oberth class is one of the weakest points. If we can see any..." Whatever she was looking for never happened as the recording ended with only a few bursts of static. "That's good at least. That means that normal windows are fine."

Glancing at the two superior officers, Mona decided she needed to explain. "In higher warp fields when you fly too close to spatial anomalies, you have to worry about warp distortion. Computer, return to time index 229 point 17." With a chirrup, the computer complied and she headed to one of the side consoles. "If you look here at the edges of these consoles, you can see that distortion." Pointing out the waviness of the console like she was, it was a bit obvious. "The same effect is happening on the opposite side of the bridge. But if you look at the GIANT CLEAR ALUMINUM DOME that's keeping the crew from being sucked into space and giving them a view of the stars, there's no such distortion. This distortion also clears up once the Commodore mentions the tractor beam."

"Computer, go to when the tractor beam is mentioned." After the computer chirruped and changed the holo-projection again. Mona then motioned around them. "Now what I want to know is what is actually causing that distortion... The field itself or the Oberth's engines... These patterns are pretty even but old Rigsby is at the helm. He's a hot shot and he'd be good enough to nail the space between distortions if there was a way to see them..."

"Or maybe..." Dox interjected. "If there's enough data in these records for us to find a way to detect these distortions. Gravimetric... Magnetic... Temporal... Whatever. If we can see them. Not just where they are, but if they're moving... Flowing...." Now looking at Ensign Gonadie intently and even a little excited as her mind raced. Her faced scrunched in as a question formed. "...do you think we could... ride them? The Hera, I mean. Reduce the risk of warp field distortion by forgoing the warp field entirely and using this ribbons shearing forces like a boat in a river? Thrusters and impulse bursts like a rudder but the distortions themselves as propulsion?"

Mona furrowed her brow as she thought that over. "Of we had a way to press back against them, sure... But more than likely they'd just press us out of the ribbon. As for seeing them..." Heading to one of the storage lockers that Mona still maintained in the office, she started rummaging in it for a case. "I promise I'll clean this out later..."

Eventually, the brightly colored lass finished bobbing around in the locker and came out with a case marked EXPERIMENT 992. Setting it on the desk, she popped it open and revealed a visor-like piece of headgear with circuits and wires hanging out the sides. It was obviously something she hadn't quite finished. "An old experiment of mine based on something the Dominion left behind. It kind of puts a view of the outside of the ship in your head. It's set up for my visual spectrum and I had gotten the migraines to mostly go away, but the sensory overload builds up over time and they still come back. I had a few of the other pilots test it and they found it a bit... Nauseating..."

Smiling broadly, Dox walked over to look at the experimental head gear. "Yes, exactly. If I could see everything and not just be limited to the screen and telemetry from the sensors in real time..." Trailing off again, Dox stopped and addressed the room. "Computer. Remove the visual facade of the Commodore's ship so was can see the projected images of the spacial anomaly in 360°, please." With a chirp, the projection. Of the ship shimmered away and it appeared as if the officers were somehow standing inside the swirling colors and energy or the spatial anomoly itself.

"Look at this. Even without being able to percieve your color spectrum, you can see how this energy is moving and flowing all around us." Melanie gestured broadly, then snapped back to face Rita Paris as a new thought burst into her brain. "We have metaphasic shielding. Commander... Could those shields be shaped. Formed to conform to these kinds of energy flows. Like an adapadable... Surface... The Hera could ride. To keep us from being pushed away?"

There was a flash of surprise on the commander’s face as she was suddenly called on the spot, but never one to shy from a challenge, Paris applied logical progression of thought to the matter. “Well, I read a little bit about cloaking devices, and they can be a shell or contoured to the hull. Which stands to reason that so long as we aren’t straying too far from the shape of the original… I mean, there’s a lot of cubic area to a sphere around the starship, so with the right programming, that should be entirely feasible. Ideally it would have to be calculated per shield generator, but I do know someone who can do such calculations very quickly,” she added, picking up a PaDD off the desk. “What shape did you have in mind? Teardrop or flat-bottomed long board?”

Tilting her head slightly, Dox was a bit confused by the references Commander Paris had just made. Growing up, isolated on a smuggling ship and raised Romulan didn't leave her with much knowledge of surfboard design. "Long Board?" She asked.

“Computer, please show a life-sized representation of a classic California long board surf board, circa 1965.” The computer obliged, bringing into being a bright blue board, nose slightly elevated and edges rounded, but while it was perhaps only half a meter wide, th4e idea was much easier to grasp with the image of an oblong 2 ½ meter surfboard in the flight control office of the starship 500 years out from the artifact Paris was referencing.

“That, Miss Dox, is a California long board. Now, we wouldn’t have the fin on the bottom,” the California-born and bred surfer girl flipped the board over to demonstrate the curved fin on the ventral facing, “but we might need one of those too. So, question stands- you want a board to work with for a constant, or something more astrodynamic like a teardrop shape?”

Focusing on the Holographic projections in front of them and ignoring the moment of slight embarrassment, Dox looked at both for a moment. "Hmm... The energy rippling appeared to be fairly tight and compressed." She turned to aim her thoughts at Ensign Gonadie. "We will have to run some computer simulations for sure..." Then turning back to Paris, "...but my gut says the longboard shape here will give the ripples too much area to push us out of control. This teardrop will be a rougher ride but I can compensate for that with the internal inertial dampeners and I think ill be able to manage my tighter control to keep us in the proverbial streams."

“I ain’t licked yet,” Paris responded. “Computer, remove the long board and please show Miss Dox a boogie board, circa 2000.” The computer complied, and in place of the 2 and a half meter board, one that was two-thirds of a meter long, but the same width with the upraised nose came into being. “Perhaps a bit more like this?”

A broad smile spread across Dox's face as she looked up at the projection. "Yes. I think that's the general idea. Tight and adaptable. But mirrored dorsal and ventral in case we need to maneuver upside down since this will be all around us."

“Just as easy. Computer adapt this shape, with ventral and dorsal fins, to a theoretical shield configuration for the Hera in miniature before me one meter in size. With that, a crude representation of the shield came up, in need of modification to accomplish what they were after. “Okay, that’s a start. Bring the curve of the forward ventral up to the lip of the saucer section… better, yes, like that. Give me some stabilizing fins port and starboard, near the aft of the nacelles… yes, like that.” Paris glanced over to Gonadie and dox, both of whom had far more technical expertise in this field she was certain. “Okay, so what are you two thinking here? So far this is apparently possible, even if the programming is going to be a pain in the rear.”

"We can refine it in the simulations, but I think we're on the right course." Dox replied, pausing to consider all the details running through her mind. Turning to look at the brilliantly colored Miradonian, Dox didn't want to be over confident considering the significant experience of the officers in the room. "I'd appreciate your input, Ensign Gonadie."

"Computer, load shield configuration Gonadie Delta Mala Three and place it over a similar model next to this one." Mona stepped around the current holo-display as the computer complied and made a second model, this time with an egg shaped shield with a reinforced indentation at the back and shield fins in an X pattern towards the rear. "I think it's got merit, but since I've done a lot of the math, maybe you might want a place to start?" Grinning like the canary that ate the cat, Mona stood there with one hand on her hip.

"We'll run them both through some sims, work out the kinks. Even with those fins, I'm concerned about uncontrolled roll in there." Dox was focused intensely on the multiple projections in the center of the room. "Something in the middle might be our answer. I need to check out that interface helmet and see how intense the nausea and migraines you mentioned are going to be. I can talk with Doctor Dael to see if there's anything they can do to contain any adverse effects so we can make this work."

Turning to Ensign Gonadie, Dox followed up. "Could you please take all of the available dates on the energy ribbon and program a computer sim so we can start some test runs of these. We're going to need to test all of our maneuvering options." Dox stood back, starting to pace slightly. "Thrusters, impulse, even directed push back from the tractor beams. The Commodore's ship was stable once it was caught in that other ships tractor beam." Dox stopped pacing to look back at Gonadie. "Thank you. I think we have a solid starting point to get a handle on what we need to do."

"Any time, Boss," Mona replied, already punching all the data into a PaDD.

Then Dox turned to Rita Paris with a somewhat more stern expression, while also trying not to blush as a result of being called boss. "What's our time table for mission preparedness, Commander?"

"We're headed for the galactic core. ETA, according to flight control, is 3.2 days to New Texas, a colony out here next to the galactic core that is our first stop for data on the situation on the ground. They've been praying to gods, and they are appearing. Even gods they started to make up. That's our first investigatory angle, then we'll be going surfing. So, call it three days of work until you don't have time for testing anymore."

"I'm not positive," Rita stepped over to one of the expanses of exposed space of the ribbon. "But I think... Computer, please speculate on the following theory. The tractor beam has spacetime distortion, if not mass. On the energy spectrum, it's acting like a forcefield projected at rang. Using the tractor beam on a widebeam setting, could a forcefield be projected alongside the thrusters to supply them with resistance to gain greater control and propellant out of the impulse engines?" Paris looked to the heavens expectantly as the computer worked.

It only took the computer a moment to come up with the answer. "Negative. The resulting thrust would rend the force field generators from their sockets."

Hearing the answer, Paris shrugged, unfazed. "Well we learn from what doesn't work as well. All right, it sounds like you two have a lot of work to do. Daily progress reports, and keep up the good work. You are already preparing to coordinate with medical, and I will run Miss Gonadie's shield configuration past the science and engineering team. I'm thinking it looks like an old-school bomshell- Ensign, good name, bad name...?"

"I don't think that translated well..." Mona looked at Rita with a sour look on her face. "i think you're a bombshell. this is Maybe Eggsurfer..."

"Maybe for now I'll present it to the science and engineering teams as Gonadie Delta Mala Three," Paris replied with a grin. "Computer, show me the stern hatch please, thank you," As the door leading deeper into the Hera appeared in the holographic representation, Paris strode toward it in that military stride of hers. "Keep me posted..."

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied, as Paris exited the Flight Control office.

"Computer, convert the math from my project to the new render, making appropriate modifications as needed," Gonadie requested. As the computer started the transfer and made a few edits to the render Rita had created, she walked around them both nodding. "Save the new render once completed. I'll run trials on both of these and see which one performs better and go from there."

"Okay... We have our work cut out for us. Three days isn't a lot of time, but it's better then nothing, so let's get to it." Dox followed up to Gonadie. "You get that sim prepared and let the computer run it's trial models. I'm going to configure this..." Holding Ensign Gonadie's expreimental head gear in her hands. "...Get it calibrated for me and start working out those kinks. We can touch base hourly to keep updated and hopefully be running full Sims before the end of shift."

Moving back to her desk, Dox placed the headgear in the center, with the visor facing her and turned her computer screen slightly towards her. "Computer, call up schematics and data on Ensign Gonadie's project, Experiment 992. Thank you." As the computer chirped in response and information began to fill the screen, Dox sat back and took a breath, thinking to herself.

"Okay, 'Chief'. Let's see if you can actually pull any of this off."

As was her habit, Melanie Dox was a few minutes early for her appointment with the ships Councilor, Avendar Jurot and was spending those few minutes walking the deck to burn off her nerves. Dox had met with the Councilor on her first day aboard the U.S.S. HERA and it was not a meeting that she felt had gone well.

What the young Junior Grade Lieutenant didn't know then, was that the Counselor she had met was acting as an unknowing host for a cosmically endowed Titan that was firmly in charge. But since then, Dox had read the official reports of the calamity that had occurred during her first mission with the ship that had left Avender Jurot back in possession of her own mind and body, with no apparent memory of her time on board. As such, she felt it was appropriate to try meeting with the Councilor again for the first time, although she was still extremely nervous.

As she hovered near the door of the Councilor"s office, Dox realized her hemming and hawing outside was very likely pointless as Jurot was still a Betazoid and as such, very likely could sense that Melanie was hovering outside nervously. So she took a deep breath, lightly running her fingers over her ear, and pressed the pad outside the door, which let out a light chirp from inside.

"Come!" Avendar said. She was reading a PaDD with the record of her last meeting with Lieutenant Dox.

As the door slid open with a hiss, Dox stepped in, stopping about two steps in with her hands crossed in front of her, actively trying to not be stiff or too awkward looking. Dox was trying to relax and push past her anxiety around Councilors and so chose to be less formal then she been in their last meeting. "Hello, Councilor." But her lack of comfort in social interactions got the better of her and she couldn't think of anything else to say, standing in the doorway looking exactly as uncomfortable as she was feeling.

"Um... sorry. Uh... I'm... not good at this." Dox admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

Avendar smiled. "You're good at being you, lieutenant. In fact, you're the best Lieutenant Dox there is!" The counselor sat down in a chair next to a couch. It was a different chair than had been there, and a different couch. Obviously she'd redecorated a bit. "Please, sit down," she said, indicating the new couch.

Where Melanie Dox felt on guard and defensive when she first met who she thought was Avender Jurot, this time she just felt nervous and anxious, which still felt like a minor improvement to her as that was basically normal for her. She walked over and sat on the couch slightly at a bit of an attentive posture.

"Please relax if you can. I understand your apprehension," the Counselor said. "I'm nervous as well."

Immediately, Dox's anxiety turned into guilt as she didn't want to make the meeting any more awkward and felt like she was failing miserably. Rubbing the top of her ear nervously, she leaned forward, closed her eyes and took a deep breath to try and recentered herself and calm down a little. She exhaled slowly and opened her eyes back up, feeling the rush of emotion ebb a bit.

"Pardon me again. I just needed a moment to calm myself down. It's not you and I'm sorry." Melanie looked around the room for a moment, collecting her thoughts and working up her nerves. " I've... Not had a great history with therapists or counselors. And I still tend to overreact. Last time, I was shut down and defensive and now I'm overthinking everything to the point of... Almost panic. And I'm sorry. That's not fair to you." Dox smiled an awkward half-smile as the knot in her stomach began to untie a little more.

"Well, I understand that as well. So let's just get to know each other. I'm Avendar."

Feeling her footing beneath her more firmly, Dox finally began to relax. "Melanie. I'm Melanie."

"I'm still learning about this ship. It's nothing like my last one. What do you think of it, Melanie?"

"The Hera's... well... kind of amazing, so far." Dox lit up to talk about the ship she now called home. "I mean... It's my first assignment on an actual starship but it's just... So much more then I could've imagned. I mean, I've spent a lot of time in space but nothing quite like this. Maybe it's just being a pilot, but she moves like something alive sometimes. Like something born in space."

Then Dox stopped herself, realizing she was focusing on it just as a pilot and thought deeper. "But I guess, what's really been different is the crew. I've only been here a little while but it's... I feel..." She momentarily paused, feeling self conscious. "I never felt like I fit anywhere else before. It's... I like it here."

"I understand. I'm learning about the crew as well. Apparently I made a lot of people uncomfortable when..." Avendar shivered involuntarily, then composed herself. "I'm glad you like it here. Who has made a great impression on you?"

Fixating on the Councilor's first statement, Dox again felt a pang of guilt in her stomach. Even knowing that Avender Jurot had been possessed at the time of their first meeting, the Junior Lieutenant still felt partially responsible for how that first encounter went. But she chose to shift her focus back on the Councilor's question. "I was..." Melanie chuckled nervously. "I was kinda terrified of Lieutenant Commander Paris when we first met. I stumbled through the proper protocol for coming on board and she caught it and I freaked out a little. It was my literal first meeting with the first officer of my first starship commission and I forgot to ask for permission to come aboard." Melanie sat a bit further back in her seat, recalling that awkward first encounter, rubbing an ear nervously. "But she pushed me out of that headspace. And she's been pushing me out of my comfort zone since that first day." Dox's tone lightened as she spoke. "I think we're actually becoming friends. At least I hope so. I mean... She's a great commander... the best I've seen... but I like her too. And I really like Doctor Dael too. they shared their.. what do you call it... the melted cheese thingy... They shared some of that with me in Ten-Forward. Asa has so much energy and... positivity. I like talking with them "Melanie chuckled again at the memory, fondly. "They do most of the talking. I think this is the most talking I've done in one sitting since I got here, actually."

Avendar smiled. "Dr. Dael is wonderful. Perhaps I should try this 'melted cheese thingee.' It sounds yummy!" She leaned a little forward in her chair. "Lieutenant Commander Paris is the one who rescued me from captivity. Her record states that she's a century out of time. I think that explains why she has a refreshing candor." She raised her eyebrows. "Is your talking a good thing? Does it help?"

"It's not something I generally feel comfortable doing, so I guess it's a good thing that I am." Melanie half smiled, noting that her anxiety was largely gone for the moment.

"Expressing one's feelings is almost always a good thing," the counselor said. "You mentioned that you loved to pilot the ship. Can you tell me how it felt when you first piloted a ship?"

"First?" Dox quickly felt her anxiety creep back in. "The first time was... terrifying and liberating at the same time. I mean, I was barely 10 years old." She began rubbing the top of one ear again as her mind drifted back to her childhood. "I didn't want the responsibility of flying the ship we lived in... But it was also the first thing I had any control over in my life. That I was good at."

Avendar sensed the change in Dox's emotions. "You seem to be good at MANY things. Do you have any hobbies? I used to swim in the ocean often. The oceans are warm on my planet."

"I didn't learn to swim until I was at the academy, actually." Dox replied with a half smile, trying to pull herself out of difficult memories. "I have a little keyboard I got years ago, but I don't have much time to play."

"Keyboard? That's great! I'm sure there are other crew members who are musicians as well," the Counselor said. "You could be in a band, or not. Whatever makes you happy."

"Well..." Melanie shrunk slightly. "I... I don't... I've never played with anyone else. I've never... actually let anyone hear me play since... well, in years."

"I'll bet your keyboard playing is as exquisite as your piloting," Avendar said. "What else makes you happy?"

Letting out a slightly awkward laugh, Melanie responded. "I wouldn't say 'exquisite", but thanks." Then she paused to ponder the Councilor's question. "I... I don't really know. I mean... 'happy' hasn't been a big priority in my life."

"That's a common theme for beings in Starfleet. You're not alone," the Betazoid said. "We work so hard making sure others are happy, we forget to be happy ourselves. I have an idea! Technically, I go off duty in five minutes. Why don't we go to Ten Forward and see what kind of trouble is going on there? I'm still not sure of myself being alone, and I could use the company." She smiled.

"Uh... okay." Melaine was taken by surprise by the request and smiled somewhat awkwardly. "Yeah. I guess. We can do that right? Like, there's no rules against that or anything?" She was caught off guard and rambling but sincerely was relaxed and even a little bit excited at the prospect. " Sorry. I'm rambling."

"I don't know, but I don't see why we couldn't. After all, you outrank me. But I think it's ok," Avendar said.

Laughing just a bit, Melanie replied. "Sorry. I've had a few therapists in my life and I've never sociized with any, really. But yeah, that sounds... I don't know... Fun." She smiled with a slightly cock-eyed expression, much more comfortable with the real Avendar Jurot.

"We're aboard a starship. Counselors can socialize as long as we know where the line is drawn. Let's go get some melty cheesy things!," Avendar said.

"That sounds great." Dox stood up to head to Ten-Forward with the Councilor. The anxiety that normally lived in her belly was nowhere to be found for the moment, and that was good enough for her.

It was 0:430 hours aboard the Starship Hera, and one again, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox found herself awake. In the brief time aboard the massive nebula class ship, Dox found herself waking up much earlier then she was used to. She wasn't sure if it was the pressures of her new position as Chief Flight Control Officer or just her ever present anxieties gnawing at the back of her mind, but it was another nightmare that shoved the young pilot from her slumber.

Which was a bit more annoying this morning as she struggled to even remember the dream this time, simply being left with a lingering feeling of dread she wanted to shake.

She didn't know why she was stressing, thinking perhaps that it was the anxiety of their upcoming mission that was filled with unknown quantities. But all in all, everything was going well. She had even had a very nice meeting with the ships Councilor that ended with some fun talking in a more off duty way in Ten-Forward. She was making friends for the first time in her adult life, so why was her brain trying to eat itself when she tried to sleep?

She had considered perhaps trying to practice her keyboard playing. She had lamented that she hadn't had the time to play much while talking with Avender Jurot, the ships Councilor the day prior but found no inspiration to do so on this morning. Instead, she found herself standing in the far corner of her new and inordinately spacious senior crew quarters looking at the one piece of equipment she had requested that had been beamed in earlier. A full sized humanoid torso, padded and mounted to a slightly flexible weighted base. For all intents and purposes, a punching bag.

Of course, the ship had a few gyms that would serve this purpose, but Melanie valued her privacy and didn't want to practice in a public forum. Her thick, wavy auburn hair was up in a tight pony tail and, as it was her own quarters, she wore nothing more than a pair of comfortable panties and a sports bra.

Rita Paris loved to run and Councilor Jurot said she liked to swim. But this was Melanie Dox's preferred method of exercise.

"Computer. Please engage sound proofing field for these quarters." Dox called out to the room. With a chirp, the ships computer replied.

=^=Sound proofing engaged.=^=

She wanted to make sure that her morning exercise wouldn't disturb anyone else on the deck before she got started, as she was now surrounded on all sides by the rooms of the rest of the senior staff.

Taking a few deep breaths to relax, Melanie planted her feet in a slightly wide stance in front of the padded torso and held out an arm, taunt at length to gauge her distance. Beginning somewhat softly, she made a few quick strikes at the neck of the figure, aiming at areas that generally contained sensitive nerve clusters on most humanoid species.

Progressing, she steadily increased her intensity, moving from the neck to the sides where the softer organs tended to rest. "Computer. Please begin playlist. Dox workout zero zero three. Volume, six." With the soundproofing in place, she was confident that nobody would be disturbed as Baba O'Reilly by the 20th century Earth band, The Who started playing.

Growing up, Melanie Dox wasn't exposed to much human culture in the few years that her human father was in her life, outside of music. Melanie's mother was Romulan, however, and preferred to expose her daughter to that cultures music. But to Jaeih Dox's dismay, Melanie was drawn to the agressive beats and what was called hard rock or metal. Baba O'Reilly opened fast and got hard and Melaine liked using it to get her energy up and set a good place.

The short, well rounded pilot had a pilots reflexes and was fairly quick for her size, breaking a sweat as she continued her exercises. The moves were harsh and, on an actual person, would be considered somewhat agressive. Even vicious. Which is part of why Melanie preferred to practice in private. Like much of her upbringing, this was a specifically ROMULAN skill engrained in her at a young age by her mother called Llaekh-ae'rl.

Growing up on a smugging ship where, at a very young age they were forced to interact with often disreputable individuals, Jaeih Dox did her best to teach her daughter how to defend herself. They were skills Melanie found valuable more than once as they had to deal with frequently shady individuals. Pirates, criminals and Ferengi traders that had no qualms about getting handsy with a developing teenage girl.

Thinking back, Melanie remembered one particularly possessive customer trading in Romulan Ale that had come on board and tried to literally BUY, her. But her mother was having none of it, and locked him in the ships airlock, allowing the space doors to open an inch at a time until he had learned some manners. Dox smiled a little thinking of the moment, that was positively terrifying at the time. But most were dissuaded by Melanie's basic ability to keep their hands off of her. Llaekh-ae'rl was good for that.

When Melaine was sent to Earth as a teenager to live with her human Grandparents, she quickly learned what the average human thought of Romulans, and over time learned to lean on her mostly human looking appearance and downplay her heritage and upbringing as a way to avoid that judgement. This was particularly difficult for her at Starfleet academy, where the prejudice against Romulans felt more pronounced to her. So she learn to tuck that inside as anxiety turned to resentment and anger. She was never ashamed by her heritage until others put it on her and that resentment lead to Melanie becoming quite isolated and lonely on Earth.

So far, she had encountered no such issues on the Hera, a starship where humans almost seemed to be a minority and diversity seemed to be very celebrated and accepted. But years of built in insecurities were hard to crack, so she practiced in private, at least this morning.

BACK IN BLACK by the band, AC/DC began to play, as Melanie continued her exercises and she smiled a little thinking of the almost impossibly confident Rita Paris walking through the ships corridors as they went to run the other morning like it was nothing, while Melanie desperately hoped nobody would see her in her workout clothes. She envied Paris' power to just be herself and own it. But it was the good kind of envy that made Melanie want to do better herself. Hold her head a little higher for a change.

Maybe tomorrow, she thought, she would just go to the actual gym on the ship. But for now, she continued to attack her stand-in foe until she wore herself out on it.

"Computer. Pause music, please." She muttered out loud as she stopped, now standing and panting mildly in front of her expressionless roommate. Sweat ran down the ample curves of her body. Curves that continued to exist regardless of how much she exersized or dieted. She often wondered if the perpetual pudginess was a result of her mixed blood, thinking about how hard it was for her to loose weight while still being in Starfleet approved physical condition.

Romulans share a lineage with Vulcans, but forfieted the hyper strength exhibited by their logical counsins when they settled on Romulus generations ago. A planet with environmental conditions and gravity closer to Earth allowed Romulans to loose the great strength of their ancestors. But they retained a degree of the greater muscle density that Melanie theorized might be why it was harder for her to loose weight through exercising. She pushed herself enough to stay fit and healthy, but would have to push herself many times harder to get trim. It was a thought that made her sigh.

After her workout, a shower was in order. Then it would be time to prepare for her day. She had a number of crew rotations to review at her office as the handful of officers tasked with piloting the Hera and her various shuttles and Runabouts fell under her aegis. It was a new responsibility, but one she was becoming more comfortable with.

Everyone wanted time at the wheel, but she needed to review all of the factors involved. Melanie grabbed a PaDD off of the nightstand with her files on them to look over, pulling off her panties and bra on the way to the shower. When she had come on board just a couple of weeks ago, First Officer Paris and Ensign Gonadie, both officers that had held her current position as Flight Control Chief, put her through a simulation to guage her skills. It was something that Dox thought she would need to do with the officers in her department.

Crew files had facts and reports and testimonials. But if she was going to determine who was to be in position to fly when her or Ensign Gonadie were unavailable, she needed to see what they had for herself. She made a quick note to schedule the first few similations with the available officers first thing. No reason to wait, she thought as she set the PaDD down on the edge of the sink and stepped into the shower.

Senior crew quarters on a Nebula Class Starship, Melanie learned, had a few perks that she enjoyed. One was a shower with the option for hot water rather than the standard sonic models. To Melanie, it was practically luxurious as she set the temperature controls and just stood beneath the water as it cascaded down her well rounded form.

Relaxing in the shower, Melanie thought of her tasks for the day and how good the water felt. She thought of the friends she was making on the Hera. She thought of her mother. And she didn't think about the nightmare that woke her up at all.

The USS Hera had just finished docking with the Odin's Breath and while the airlock procedures were still ongoing, Enalia tapped a finger against her crossed arms thoughtfully. This would be the last time they would see the ship's namesake if they were lucky. Commander Paris and Lieutenant French, as well as a security contingent were holding her in a waiting room just a short ways away so the team from the Nordic ship could take custody of her and they could process any custody documents. For now though, she was here at the airlock with the Baroness because stars forbid she be alone at an airlock.

As the final seal was relieved and the doors unsealed, they slid open to reveal a giant of a man followed by a pair of the most muscular women the pair had ever seen. Long golden hair, crimson cloak, six relics on his dark armor, muscles the size of Enalia's waist, and a short handled sledge hammer hanging at his hip... This was definitely Thor.

Stepping onto the deck of the Hera, the man motioned to the two behind him. "Greetings. I am Thor, God of Thunder and these are Hervif and Gerifa, the Valkyries that will be keeping the mighty Hera in line today."

Even Enalia was taken aback but quickly recovered. "It's a pleasure meeting you. I'm Captain Enalia Telvan of the Federation starship USS Hera and this is by personal attendant, Baroness Second Class, Schwein von Alcott. If you'll follow me, we have the mighty Hera in a holding room just this way."

Motioning for her to continue, Thor smiled winningly. "Please, by all means."

Enalia smiled back and turned to lead them all the few feet to the small holding room that had been cleared for this use. As they entered, she continued introductions. "May I present to you Hera, Queen of the Olympian gods, Commander Rita Paris, my first officer, Lieutenant Seregon French, my Chief of Security, and Crewmen Donner and Kebab, who have been watching over Hera diligently."

Thor greeted them all with a slight bow of his head. "My greetings to all of you. I am Thor, son of Odin, God of Thunder. These are my Valkyries, Hervif and Gerifa."

Once French closed her mouth, she found it hard to open it again, but she did manage a slight. "Oh my God!" Before trying to overt her eyes unsuccessful from Thor. "Is it hot in here? I'm feeling just a bit damp, I mean hot." She said almost low enough not to be heard. Then focusing on the CO, in an effort to regain some semblance of professionalism. She got with the program, feeling she had said enough, she would take all further cues from the boss.

Apparently French’s reaction was either precisely what the commander had anticipated, or she hadn’t noticed, which seemed unlikely. Or she’d just won a bet.

For her part, Paris returned the nod and offered her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Odinson, Hervif, Gerifa. I’m Rita Paris, first officer of the Hera. We’re grateful to you for taking the Queen of Olympus off our hands, although with a little luck, she shouldn’t give you any trouble. She’s resolved to turn over a new leaf, so the one thing I’ll ask is, if you can, please give her a little benefit of the doubt, and the chance to show she’s changed. I know it’s a lot to ask, but the Asgardian pantheon have always been renowned for their fairness.”

Thor reached out and took the blonde bombshell's hand. Raising her hand to his lips, he maintained eye contact as he lightly pressed his lips to her fingers, sending a tingle of electricity up her arm and literally making her hair raise a bit as he did so. "It would seem your Captain is not the only one among your crew touched by my people."

"As for Hera, or Juno... Or Ithwa..." Thor squinted at the Olympian queen as he recalled a few other names she had gone by. "Didn't you also go by Galiathopa to the Bomites?"

"I did... Zeus and I were young back then and we..." Hera looked around at everyone else in the room and at the grinning God of Thunder before scowling back at him. "Ok, have your fun. It's not like there's anything I can do about it, anyway."

"You really have changed. Before, the slightest tease would set you off." Thor turned and motioned to the two Valkyries to take custody of Hera. "I assume there is much documentation that needs to be accomplished? The Federation is renowned for it, after all."

"A few signings, the PaDD will walk you through it," the surprised spacefarer handed over the tablet in her hand. "You are NOT what I was expecting," she muttered under her breath before cocking her head curiously. "Thor, something you said there... touched by your people? I don't understand, what does that mean? Could you explain, please? I'm a little behind the times."

That joke would have worked with the old uniform and I never thought of it until now? Dammit!

Thor smiled like a ray of sunshine had just been unleashed upon the room and looked between Rita and Enalia as he took the PaDD and signed in the places indicated by the PaDD. "Have you not told her of your namesake?" As Enalia looked down in embarrassment and shook her head, Thor chuckled softly. "It is quite the amusing tale, just as your great... Grandmother? Was it? Every so often, her family names a woman..."

"Four or five generations..." Enalia interjected.

"Right, every four or five generations her family has to name one of their women after one of our people because of a curse that Aphrodite put on them for being vain. I mean, the curse is spent after so long, but family traditions being what they are..." Thor looked to Enalia, Amusement in his eyes for what he thought was the most amusing part of it all. "Go on, you tell them."

Enalia just shook her head again and waved it off.

"Oh come on, it's a good story!" Thor reached over and slapped Enalia on the shoulder good naturedly. "Anyway, to add insult to vanity, they chose Enalia as their family name, which is the aspect that Aphrodite split from herself and threw into the sea to create the sea foam! Do you know what that really is? Fish urine! She's named after the aspect of Aphrodite that leapt into the sea to turn fish piss into sea foam!" With that, Thor couldn't hold it in any more and let loose a roaring laugh.

One eyebrow rose incrementally as Rita adopted a prim smile. "It's not that funny..."

Enalia took a deep breath and smiled mischievously. "It's almost as good as the tale of the time you were the bride of a frost giant that stole your hammer."

Thor sobered up quickly, cleared his throat, then turned to Rita. "As for you, you're easily the match for Aphrodite's beauty, but I sense that a bit of Hera's power lingers in you. Perhaps she has granted you a boon. I know not the specifics, but it does not seem malicious."

"Hmf. I'm no goddess of love, that's for certain. I found one love in this life, and that's only because he was one in a million, probably more. No..." Rita stood picked up her chin, looking regal for a change. "The wise owl sits at my shoulder, my spear is a trusty old phaser pistol and I'll lead the troops to war. You'll always find olive oil in my kitchen, and while I may not be that smart, I do demonstrate uncanny wisdom. I myself think I am far closer to Pallas Athena, if you are looking for an archetype I favor." Paris paused at that to grin mischievously. "But hey, what do I know about gods and men, right?"

Turning to Hera, Rita Paris offered an encouraging smile. "You'll have to prove yourself to everyone who knew you, and that's going to suck. And if you do change, lots of them won't believe you. But you are immortal, and that should have given you patience, if nothing else. Good luck, Hera." Rita raised her right hand, and in complete seriousness, splayed her four fingers in the traditional Vulcan salute. In this case, the words held a somewhat more significant meaning.

"Live long, and prosper."

"Peace and long life, Rita Paris of Earth. I will do what I can to hold true to your trust in me." Hera would have returned the salute, but one of the Valkyries were placing the rogue goddess in runed binders and removing the Starfleet issue ones.

“Are those really necessary?” Paris asked, turning to Thor. "Hera was a model prisoner for us, and escaping from us would have been far easier than escaping from you. I did ask, give her a chance?”

"In her case, it's more of a formality," Thor explained. "If the others get wind that we didn't at least do this much we'd have a possible riot on our hands and I'd rather not have to deal with that. Don't worry though - she will be in the best gilded cage we have until a trial of her peers can be assembled. We will be requesting your mission reports as well as character witnesses from the... Merosians? We will be quite thorough and it will likely span greater than any one of your lives, if I'm to be honest."

There wasn’t anything to particularly say to that, so Paris offered Hera a conciliatory nod, and silently mouthed the words ‘good luck’.

The other Valkyrie looked over Lieutenant French. "You look as if you have fought a mighty enemy. It is good that you survived to tell the tale."

“Yes, and lucky to be alive. Minatuars are no fun to be sure.” Said French not wanting to relive the story.

"Indeed they are not. I look forward to meeting you in combat if such a day should arise." The Valkyrie nodded to Lieutenant french respectfully as Hera was transferred to their custody.

Thor then smiled like the sun was shining again. "Well, it's been a pleasure meeting all of you. I would invite you all to dine with us, but I assume you have pressing business elsewhere. Federation people all seem to be in a hurry like that."

"I could eat..." Rita Paris muttered to herself, then looked around at the assembled officers. That was when she noticed the Baroness, standing somewhat dazedly at the back of the room, in reverent awe of the very manifestation of a being she actively worshiped. The woman was friendly and cheerful to a fault, a patient teacher as she was still giving Rita swordfighting lessons whenever she asked. While she seemed to enjoy Rita's company, the sailor of the stars still hadn't found a way to repay the super-soldier's kindness.

Besides, at heart Rita Paris was an explorer, and this was an opportunity to explore that she couldn't pass up.

Turning to Captain Telvan, the crimson-clad commander leaned in a bit. "I've never seen an Asgaardian starship, ma'am. I could eat. Right, French? You're still recovering, you could use a good meal, couldn't you? It would be rude not to... I mean, we could dine with Asgaardians, and that is literally legendary." At the slight nod from the Captain, Paris called out to catch the attention of the Teutonic tornado of trouble. "Baroness? You wanna go dine with Thor?"

"Yes!" Her first reply came out sudden and squeaky, causing the Baroness to blush hard, so she cleared her throat to compose herself. "Ja, it would be an honor and a dream come true." She'd never asked Enalia for much, but if she did, this would be it.

"The crew do have a lot of preparations to make before we arrive at our next mission. Besides, we should take time to stop and smell the roses now and then, right?" Enalia glanced over at the others as well, a knowing grin on her face. "I mean, if you don't mind."

"Nonsense! It would be a pleasure to have you! As soon as we escort this one safely to her new bunk we will head straight to the feast hall!" With that, Thor slapped Hera on the shoulder, nearly knocking the woman over, which earned him a dirty look but no more.

It was abusive, and Rita Paris wanted to stand up to the god of thunder over it, and get him to lay off. But Hera had led a very long life of trouble, and possessed a well-earned reputation which she would have to put in a lot of time and work to undo. Plus, Rita had just given her the speech about how she'd have to prove herself. Thor was testing her, and Hera was taking it with humility, so Paris had to know when to butt out, and let gods be gods.

Besides, what was she going to do? Threaten to nag the bearer of Mjolnir? Use harsh language to hurt his feelings?

"Table of the gods," Paris mused aloud. "Led Zeppelin is going to be playing in my head all night for this..."

The day had passed in a blur, one meeting after another, one brainstorm after the other. Today Rita Paris had lost her old uniform, but gained a new one. Then she'd spent the day planning in advance how to do the impossible, instead of just winging it on the bridge like they had back in the old days. Apparently with radically advanced technologies at their command and a fleet officer who was as willing to wing it as Rita herself, the Hera got into trouble professionally.

It was a different sort of approach than she was accustomed to pursuing, but she liked it. Organized chaos.

It was 21:42 hours by the time she decided the day had been long enough. When she yawned three times in five minutes, that was her rule to stop unless she needed to get something done. And while there was still plenty to get done and quite a few projects that she was overseeing at the moment, in addition to her usual workload of keeping the mighty starship running, nothing couldn't wait. Exiting Environmental Support on Deck 27, the thought of which she still couldn't consider without a mental shake of the head. A starship with 30 decks, not counting the 5 decks of the Intel pod.

Here's to the future.

Walking the decks all day, she got a lot of double-takes. Partially because she wasn't in her old gold minidress, her anachronism that had been the uniform of the day where she'd come from... or rather, when. In the sea of black and charcoal grey uniforms, it had definitely made her stand out. Not that she needed help in that department, but even moreso, it marked her as being out of place, as a living representative of another era, another generation. The original series of trekkers through space.

Wearing the new crimson minidress was definitely catching the eye around the Hera as she circulated, and more than a few of the crew were curious to discuss it with her. She reassured a great number of the crew, just about every gender represented, that no, they did not have to wear the skirt and that the uniform did offer pants, which Captain Telvan was modelling. Although there were a few who were intrigued, and Rita was hopeful she might not be the only one aboard wearing a miniskirt as the new uniforms went into circulation.

Ensign Gonadie had been an early adopter of the skirted style, much to Rita's surprise.

For now, she took the turbolift up to Deck 21, then took a brisk walk across the Hera, moving at that military pace of hers that she'd perfected long ago. While she could sexy walk with the best of them, it was just impractical on a starship to try to get around like that. Generally she tended to view the women who made that effort to be desperately crying for attention. In truth, she knew her old uniform was just the same cry for attention in it's own way, but in part it had been her protest against the sea of dark uniforms. The only other bright spot of color in the crew was, of course, Sonak, who simply chose not to wear his duty jacket.

Rather, he did not wear it because she had asked him not to, he saw the logic inherent in her request, and agreed with her sensibilities in the matter. It made her happy he would still be in science blue- she loved how it set off his eyes, and that dark, dark hair of his. Thinking of him, she wished their bond was still what it had been back home. She missed being able to share her day with him anywhere in the ship, off the record... like their own private comm channel. Which had worked only because he was always listening should she reach out to him- lacking any psychic ability of her own, it had been work for him. But he'd done it because if she called for him, he wanted to be there.

Still, they could share their souls now when they touched, and they would spend the night bonded. Seldom did she separate from him when they slept; though a lifetime of discipline and solitude had left him with a tendency to the solitary, still too he sought contact with her while they slumbered. For he knew it brought her comfort, and kept at bay the demons of her past and the memories and insecurities that haunted her.

Catching the turbolift out of the saucer section, the displaced damsel tapped away at her PaDD to compose a simple message. While she could tap her comm badge or just address the overhead, she knew that wherever Sonak was he would get a text and be able to process it with the dozen other things most likely on his mind at the moment. To have a conversation required more brain power. Thus her way was easier for him to deal with and less of a demand on that brilliant mind of his. Besides, she was asking for something selfish. Left to his own devices, Sonak could work for days, weeks even, particularly if he had a puzzle worthy of his intellect. But he understood her needs, and fulfilling them fulfilled him as well.

It's late, and I need a shower and some time with you before bed. Please come home in 15 minutes?

That would give her time to get to their quarters, get undressed, get a shower and be relaxed by the time he arrived.

The response flashed quickly on her PaDD.

Is that an order, Commander?

Despite the formal seriousness of the sentence, this was definitely a humoristic reply. This would have been astonishing to other Vulcans, let alone his former masters; but since bonding with his Human mate, he had been exploring her emotional psyche and adapting to it with his totally emotionless mind, to better fulfill his obligations as her husband. The concept of humor he got from their regular mind melds he found to be most useful as the pillar of stability she needed him to be for her... and also most fascinating. He might be unable to feel it, but that didn't deter him in his effort to explore it, albeit only on an intellectual level.

One always learned better by doing.

Some might see it as a dry statement, or passive-aggressive, or perhaps that the recipient had missed the point of the request. But seeing it warmed her heart, and brought a happy smile to the face of the lost navigator. Because she loved seeing his humor, and it meant the world to her that he shared it with her. Considering many possible responses, she settled on one that seemed the most appropriate.

The new commander is feeling insecure about change, and her sentimental attachment to the past. She requires a logical mind to assist her in sorting through her tangled thought process; ergo, clearly no less than a kolinahr master would be capable of such a feat.

Their union brought so many things to her life, but one that she appreciated although she seldom gave voice to it was the fact that he literally helped her thought processes to organize. Learning to communicate via logic and facts rather than emotions and opinions had been new to her when they had first met, but it had become invaluable to her over time. Thus when he responded with a humorous reply, which he had gained from her, she replied with logic, which she had gleaned from him. Yin and yang, anima and animus, they were perennially orbiting one another, and it delighted her to no end.

We shall meet at the appointed place and time.

Simple, short, to the point. Typically Vulcan; yet it stated just as plainly that her needs were as prominent in his mind as his duties. It was his task to juggle the two as best as possible. As long as he was able to and it was appropriate, he would ever favor her. After all, scientific studies and experiments could more often than not be delegated to another of the other capable scientists on board. There was no one to whom he could delegate his obligations to his mate.

Which brought yet another smile to her face. A lesser man might point out the experiments in which he was involved, how critical his works were to the mission and the ship, how personal needs and interpersonal relationships were irrelevant in the face of duty and science. Instead, her serious-minded spouse cracked a joke and said, in his own words, ‘I’ll be there’. Which was his way of reassuring her that of course she could rely upon him, just as she had for their entire association.

“My hero,” she sighed as she entered into their quarters. At first she tried tugging her uniform off by pulling it over her head, which had worked easily with her old open-necked uniform. But this uniform had a collar, and that would no longer work. Instead, she had to undo the flap then unzip the top a bit to be able to shrug her way out of the one-piece uniform garment. “Gonna have to get used to that…”

Ten minutes later, she was showered and refreshed, clad in a tight white v-neck t-shirt that in simple black letters declared her to be the ‘Token Human, USS Hera 2395’ along with a pair of simple cotton panties. Now she was curled up on the couch with a cup of steaming plomeek soup on the coffee table, while she herself cradled a steaming cup of herbal tea.

It was far too late for caffeine, and it wouldn’t disturb Sonak, and he could insure it wouldn’t affect her either. But she just wanted something to ease her into the evening, and the replicator had seemingly endless options for teas, and she was slowly investigating them over time. This one was called ‘ceylon peppermint’. And she found it warming and soothing- two things she needed as she eyed the old gold uniform she had spread on a chair opposite her, as if the empty uniform were interviewing her.

When Sonak came home, he had to exert a second of self control smelling the plomeek soup that welcomed him like an aura surrounding Rita's luminous smile.

As usual he came in empty handed. He rarely used a PaDD, relying instead on his phtotographic memory and his ease with computer operations to retrieve any data he wanted from any system. This gave the appearance of someone who had nothing to do but stroll around the ship. It occurred to him that this deceptive casualness could send wrong messages to someone not knowing him as did his mate. But for him, that was all that really mattered. He was not in this life to cater to others perceptions; except save one.

And she was there, welcoming him with a curious message of her own written on her clothes.

He raised an eyebrow as he extended two of his fingers to her.

"Rita my wife, one day you will have to explain to me these... pearls of wisdom you enjoy displaying when we are not on duty. I must admit, a great many number of them, starting with this one, are... intriguing."

Rising smoothly from the couch, setting her mug of tea down as she did so, Rita extended her fingers toward his, gingerly making contact, even as her blue eyes sought out the steel-grey of his own. Lightly stroking his fingers in the tradition of his people was akin to passionate kissing for them, and it was the ritual of his people she had once imitated trying to bridge the gap between them. Now she understood well the significance, and it made her happy that he offered, and that it pleased him to come home to her, to enact these rituals of his.

After all, she had taught him so many of her rituals and habits and idiosyncrasies of her human life experience, not even half his lifetime, yet he still found the wonder and excitement of exploration within them. Thus when he offered to her a chance to reaffirm one of his people’s rituals, she was always flattered. To share such things with an outsider was exceedingly rare- but Sonak was rare amongst even Vulcans. While he was no longer a member of an endangered species, still he sought the beauty and mysteries of the universe, and somehow one of those was the experience of sharing it with one Rita Paris.

“Welcome home, my One,” she said aloud, although there was no need. This close, in contact with him, he could hear her thoughts clearer than she could speak them. Yet still, she smiled happily at his presence, and at the shedding of her responsibilities and duties. Here, alone with the hero who had traversed space, time and dimension all for her, she could be just Rita, the human woman who loved a man with no emotion, who paradoxically loved her with an enormity that might intimidate her, were it not matched by the swelling she felt within her own breast at his presence.

"It is as always agreeable to be with you again and resume our sharing of life," he answered to the most fascinating being in this or any universe. "I sensed some urgency in your call. Is there anything specific we need to do or discuss?"

"I do have a slight conundrum," she replied, guiding him to sit, then perching her rounded rear onto his lap. It was a position that was a favorite of hers, both for the proximity into which it brought their bodies, as well as a reassurance for her. As he slid his arms in to support her there, it made her feel protected and cared for. Not that she was feeling particularly vulnerable nor fearful in the moment, but it was a simple request of hers that was easily obliged.

"Old goldie there has been retired, I'm afraid," Rita glanced over to her old uniform on the chair lovingly. "The Captain wants to sell the crew on the new uniforms, and if Commander Paris won't wear it, why should I? I will miss being in gold- which I wasn't about to ask for the gold version of the new uniform, if I am adapting I need to adapt. But now my old uniform has finally come to the end of her run. She served me faithfully and well, and I will always, always miss her, but her day is done. So I was debating between framing her up on the wall, or maybe making a mannequin to put her on."

"However, this is our space, together. And since I am not sure, I thought to call my logical spouse away from his experiments to come sit with me and discuss... the possibilities." With that, she turned back to regard her handsome husband, which in turn made her smile a bit wider and the twinkle in her eye that much merrier.

"Vulcans do not attach feelings to objects as humans are fond to do," he simply stated. "You are human, exceptionally so I might add. I know this is significant for you. Since it has no resonance with me, you may proceed as you best see fit."

He knew however that this response would not satisfy her. And so he added:

"But if I may offer a suggestion; this is clothing and as such is meant to exist threedimensionally and to be felt as much as to be looked at. Therefore, I would consider the standing support option. It would stand harmoniously between your pictures of Michael and the Exeter and evoke better those feelings you want associated with it."

“Robo-Rita it is! I’ll get on the replicator to take care of that later.” Glancing over at the spot Sonak had indicated, Rita nodded. “A perfect choice, and perfectly logical. Part of my little shrine to the past, our origins as best they can be represented in the prime timeline, at least.”

Turning her head to regard Sonak again, Rita’s smile was not that room-brightening supermodel smile, but the warm happy smile she reserved only for him. Running her fingers gently through his silky black hair, her brows raised at bit. “Have you eaten? I know you don’t require much and that you can go forever without food, but just in case I made you some soup? No pressure, it’s replicated and I can always recycle it if not…”

He raised an eyebrow.

"That is factually incorrect. like all bio-organisms, I cannot go on indefinitely without food, even if I am able to will my body to stay active some time beyond the normal needs of sustenance."

He looked at her smile then nodded.

"Ah yes; Human hyperbole. I will have to continue working on recognizing that peculiar speech pattern of yours."

He then looked at the waiting soup bowl.

"Although it is healthy discipline to refrain from indulging too much into the needs of the flesh, something i have been extensively trained in, it is an incontrovertible fact that having you as a mate justifies such indulgences, at least from time to time. I thank you for the soup. Through it, I will do my best to honor your efforts on my behalf."

And so saying, she reached over to pick up the soup from the coffee table and handed the meal she had prepared for him, without hi ever needing to get up. But before touching it, he turned to face her.

"Was that decorative conundrum the only thing on your mind? Or do you wish to satisfy my curiosity about your activities of the day?"

"Even if you weren't telepathic, you could read me like a book," the bodacious bride of the calm kolinahr declared. Moving his hand holding the bowl of soup to the side, he allowed her her hand to guide his. Then she shifted her weight, planted her knee and grasped his shoulder, levering herself up so that she could straddle him, settling herself on his lap so she could see him better while they spoke. Once she had settled into place, she moved his hand back in toward him, settling it between them as she draped her arms and settled her hands on his taut abdomen, so as to not interfere with his hands.

"I didn't want the promotion, but the Captain was determined. There will probably be some talk... but this is definitely a more liberal and less judgmental society than back home. The first time this came up, I was scared, consumed by insecurities and I needed you to talk me down, like, twice in the same day. But we've come a long ways together, you and I, and... I'm not worried. This ship needs me right where I am, not as the junior executive overachiever, but as the commander who keeps things going smoothly for the captain." Running her fingers lightly up Sonak's torso, Rita sighed happily.

"You trained me well. You prepared me for the job with all of those lessons, all those times leading me through the logical process of decision-making. I've accepted the responsibility, and while it was fun to be the lieutenant commander first officer, the crew all call me 'Commander' anyway." Looking off suddenly into the distance over his shoulder, those bright blue eyes widened in realization. "I think... I think I've grown up. This qualifies, I am reasonably sure, to make me officially an adult."

He eyed her with a slighlty raised eyebrow.

"Seeing you like this, some might be wondering."

Again the echo of her human humor gained through their multiple mindmelds surfaced through his otherwise dry and deadpan tone. It became even more evident when was felt all the seriousness of his next remark.

"Other people's opinion is irrelevant. You deserve the duty and the responsibility. The captain knows it. The crew knows it. I know it. And so do you. A new step in your life has been taken. As always, you will walk it still straight and true as you always have. And we will all be with you along the way. I will."

Running the backs of her fingers along his jawline, she smiled, a close-lipped happy little smile as her eyes drank him in. "I always thought I couldn't do this without you... in my heart I believed that I did my part, but you were what made it all work. But that isn't true. I can do it alone- I proved it to myself, before you arrived."

In her heart, he felt the inspiration of emotion he now recognized as being tied to the memory of their reunion. Whenever she considered it in any more than passing thought, a surge of emotions would grow within her, like a wave driven by the wind. It was so many different emotions tied together, he was still examining it to fully grasp the complexity of it. But feel it she did, and in moments like these in particular, that surging swell of emotion was quite powerful.

"When we're together, though, we're just that much better. And you'll always be here, because you'll always find me." Rita paused, for a moment, as a question alit in her mind. Guiding his hand to try some soup, she asked him rather than seeking to impress the question upon his mind. "Are you content here, in this far-flung future, on this enormous starship that lives in the shadows? I know that wherever we're together, you call home, but... are you content with where the cosmos have delivered us?"

"There is no cosmos to live in without you in it. This is the choice I made. As for the rest of this new universe we are now sharing, I will remind you of some old wisdom of your own planet; we must within ourselves find the strength to change what can be changed, the serenity to accept what we cannot, and the wisdom to know the difference."

"I accept those precepts, but your answer does not direct itself to the nature of my inquiry. Would you choose to be elsewhere? Or are you content here merely because I am here?" The all-too human woman's head cocked slightly as she spoke, as her left eyebrow rose a few millimeters. When she worked to phrase things logically, often her speech syntax would fall in step with his.

He looked her straight in the eyes.

"Elsewhere is irrelevant.The difference between quantum realities can be as trivial as one molecule within an entire universe. The only difference that matters is the one that matters to me. To me, the only significant difference between here and elsewhere is you. Without you, all the other elsewheres have no more or less intrinsic meaning between themselves. They have the exact same value, therefore choice becomes irrelevant. This one is significant because you are part of it. It is not "merely" because of you. Without you, no other choice would matter."

"My logical romantic," she said as her lips parted and a wider smile took it's place as she leaned in to kiss his lips, her hand cupping his cheek tenderly. "So, I'm not anxious about the promotion. Change isn't bad in our lives, and I'm... worthy, I guess, for lack of a better word. But our recent adventures do have me thinking, and I should discuss it with you."

"I'm considering a 5 year mission... we'll stay with the Hera, because if we don't ask for a transfer the Captain isn't going to reassign us. But at the end of it, maybe... you and I slow down a little, take a planetside position on Earth and go teach at the Academy. Or on Vulcan to teach at the Science Academy or something. Somewhere that we can have some stability and peace in our lives, so that our family might... grow?"

In that moment, her eyes searching his own, was the first time during the evening that she had appeared vulnerable and uncertain. It was a topic she had been considering which was of vital importance to her, an x-factor as she did not know his mind on the subject yet.

"I am a scientist. This is a vast universe. I wish to learn and experience as much as is possible within my lifetime, and share what little I may find and understand. A five year mission in space will provide ample opportunities to achieve the first part; a teaching position will fulfill the other. You have made a sound plan of action for our shared life. I am gratified to be part of it."

He paused a moment before continuing.

"As for the prospect of a family... this would also require good planning and careful proceedings. The genetic in-vitro procreation process allowing our alien genes to combine into a viable offspring is now well established; but it it still delicate, and must be attended by experienced geneticists and physicians. Raising a child of two worlds is not as... socially difficult here as it was in our earlier time and place, even on your Earth; but it will still be a challenge for our child to assume it's dual nature. Our commitment to this, to the child or children as it may be, will have to be fully shared. I would propose to do this, when the appropriate time may come, on your homeworld. It shall prove less harsh and austere than mine for a half-human. Later, if the child expresses a wish to fully partake of it's Vulcan heritage, there will be excellent opportunities to do so. Is that agreeable with you?"

While Rita Paris had never personally been to Vulcan, she had an understanding of it from one of it's most dedicated sons, whom had shared the minutest fraction of his knowledge and experience of harsh the desert world with her. Had he chosen to raise children on Vulcan, she would have happily obliged and adapted, and done her best not to be disruptive to their culture as they lived their lives amongst the logical souls who followed the teachings of Surak.

But at heart, Rita Paris would always be an Earth girl, a proud representative of the planet which spawned her. With her words and deeds and even her very thoughts, she brought the culture of her homeworld to the stars, there to spread the ideals which had raised her, in which she fervently believed. Exporting compassion to the stars, moving amongst them with an explorer's curiosity, seeking friendship with the life forms encountered, and forging alliances to aid one another, to uplift all together. The fact that her logical mate would choose to raise their children on the lush green world of mighty seas and abundant life made her happy, as it would mirror her own upbringing, which had well prepared her for her life among the stars.

The fact that he made the decision based not upon what she wanted nor his own preference, but based purely on logic meant that she never had to second-guess him or wonder at his motivations for his choices. Instead, he always explained his logic to her, and that was that. How he managed to do so to accommodate his emotional mate, whose decisions were affected by fears, hopes, anxieties and aspirations would forever amaze her, but made her no less grateful as she gingerly took that bowl of soup from his hand, set it aside, then pressed herself against him, snuggling into his shoulder with a deep sigh of contentedness.

"Three. Hera said we would have three children... theoretically she is the goddess of such things so she would know, and we did part on good terms," Rita shared with Sonak. "Not the most scientific research, I know, but... " Pulling back so that she could see his eyes, she offered a hopeful expression. "You are one of the greatest minds of the 23rd or any other century, and the best man I've ever known. I want there to be future generations to carry your lineage, to be able to point back proudly and say that they are the sons and granddaughters and great grandchildren of Sonak of Vulcan. I think we owe that to the future."

"They will be even more than that; because they will also be of the lineage of Rita Paris of Earth, a most unique explorer of reality in this or any universe."

He then raised an eyebrow.

"I have no objection to the number three; but I expect you will not mind if we do not submit to the whim of any so-called pretended divine being but only to our own decisions."

The grin that spread across the face of the plucky extradimensional explorer was joyful and filled with mischief. "When have we ever let anyone make our decisions for us, Sonak? I brought it up because... well, it may be psuedo-scientific-who-knows-if-it-really-works mumbo-jumbo, but I... I did want to ask her, because she is supposedly the goddess of matrimony, home and hearth, family and all of that."

"Losing you, even for a little while, made me realize that if you were gone from my life tomorrow, I would forever regret not having started a family with you, and that... I want that, very much. I fought my father so hard against it but... with you, I do. Not now, not today, not tomorrow, but..." Rita's gaze softened as she placed her hand on his chest, where she could feel the steady martial drumbeat of his strong and virtuous heart. "Let's spend a few more years contributing to this vast and amazing universe in which we live. Then you and I can settle down and teach the next generations, and raise some pointy-haired blonde kids that aren't fond of transporters, hm?"

"Which is not to say we couldn't return to active duty when the kids are grown and on their own- after all, you will be vital for many decades and apparently my lifespan in the modern day isn't as short as it used to be. You might just be stuck with the human girl for most of your life." She made light of it, but saying it aloud made her realize the truth of it- she would cling to life with the selfsame tenacity in her old age as she had throughout her career in Starfleet, because to do otherwise would leave Sonak alone, and she would spare him as much of that heartbreak as she could, having had to see just what life was like for her without him in it.

"Vulcans have an average lifespan of two hundred standard years and humans now can expect to live up to a hundred and thirty. Considering our age differential, it is probable that would not survive you by much if I ever do. Considering this, I think the human saying most appropriate would be; we shall grow old together."

That wellspring of emotion within her doubled and redoubled at that, as his words and sentiment filled her with so many positive emotions all at once. As her eyes glistened with the onset of happy tears, Rita Paris ran her fingers through the coal-black hair of the master of logic, then pulled herself close to kiss him, passionately, deeply and quite thoroughly. As her passion rose, so too did he, easily standing as his hands cupped her rump even as she wrapped her legs about his waist, and effortlessly he bore her to the bedroom.

No words were spoken, nor were any needed- the kolinahr would have understood her desires without need of the telepathic bond they shared as t'hy'la. Yet she spoke them anyway, prying herself from the kiss, her fingers still tangled in his hair as she panted.

"We're not starting a family tonight, but it doesn't mean we can't get some practice in..."

He raised an eyebrow in his customary fashion.

"Our genes will not be perpetuated this manner, but our bond will. And from that bond will come our progeny."

It was a little past 22 hundred hours, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox was still in her office. The room was empty as the rest of the flight control crew was off duty and very likely in bed with the exception of a young Ensign who drew the proverbial short straw of manning the helm overnight.

Standing in the center of the room with her thick, wavy auburn hair laying long at her shoulders, Dox held in her hands the flight control helmet that had become the focus of her obsession on this night. It was a heads-up display that projected for its wearer a view of the space outside of the ship as if the ship itself was invisible. It projected this view of space with a dazzling array of colors and patterns that most eyes couldn't perceive. It was an essential piece of equipment developed by Ensign Mona Gonadie that Dox felt would dramatically increase her ability to fly the Hera.

Their upcoming mission, only a couple of days away, would require Dox to pilot the ship in a region of space largely unexplored. An energy ribbon that had a nasty habit of destroying ships that got too close. Dox had a plan of how to fly within it, and this helmet was a big part of it. It enabled her to see the flow of the forces that governed space in real time. She could see space itself ebb and flow like a river and it was beautiful. But it was also extremely disorienting and overwhelming over time, causing nausea and headaches.

The time spent practicing was helping, but not enough. She knew she needed as much time as possible in the helmet to acclimate herself to it. She couldn't get sick when the mission was on. She wanted to talk with the ships Doctor in the morning to see if there was anything that could be done medically to lessen the issues she was trying to work out.

Placing the helmet down on the table, she sighed. She had been running simulations all afternoon and into the evening with the helmet and was getting better. Her time was improved and she was able to push past the disorientation and fly effectively within the simulated conditions. She had a mild headache from the effort now, but she had a different problem she was considering.

The helmet was snug and a little bulky as it was a prototype. And Ensign Gonadie had duties beyond rebuilding the rig in a couple of days when it worked just fine. As it turned out, the problem was a superficial one that Dox was struggling with. It was her hair.

The thick, curly locks that she wore were getting in the way of the helmet when worn in her usual upper bun. Worn down as it was now was a messy affair that wasn't quite to Starfleet regulations, but it enabled her to practice wearing the rig. Unfortunately, it also got tangled in the cables that connected the helmet to the ships' computers. Given time, Dox was sure Ensign Gonadie could refine the interface to work without cables and make the helmet fit better, but with the mission in just a couple of days it made the most sense to ensure that it worked as perfectly as it could in its current form without aesthetic modifications. So Dox was stalling.

Sighing as she pulled the mess of auburn rings back up into a bun on top of her head, she knew that there was one quick and easy solution to her conundrum. Melanie Dox needed a haircut.

She sat back at her still largely empty desk and called up the crew schedules for the upcoming day to see if she could schedule an appointment with the ship's barber as soon as she was off duty. Seeing an opening, she punched in her request and closed her eyes as she sent the 'send' button.

As the daughter of a Human Father and a Romulan Mother, Melanie Dox was raised Romulan until she was nearly 15 and had the trademarked haircut of a Romulan when she was sent to Earth to live with her paternal Grandparents. Being forced into a very different life was difficult and she learned quickly to try and conceal her Romulan heritage once she was attending public school with human teenagers that didn't particularly care for Romulans. So she practiced eliminating the residual accent she had when speaking English and she grew out her hair as quickly as she could and never looked back.

And while she wasn't planning on a haircut as short as Doctor Dael's, she knew that a shorter haircut would almost inevitably dredge up the memories of those first few turbulent years on Earth. Would make her look more 'Romulan'. But so far, her time on the Hera had been extremely positive. It was the first place in her Starfleet career where her crewmates didn't seem to harbor any animosity towards her for her heritage at all. And this sense of freedom was helping her to allow some of her childhood come back out without all of the shame she had learned as a teenager. She remembered that for nearly half of her 31 years, she didn't hate what she was and that felt good. So maybe this wouldn't be the end of the universe.

And thinking of that, she fell asleep in her desk chair. And for the first night in a week, she didn't have a nightmare.

Perhaps she should have been thinking about the mission ahead of them. After all, the U.S.S HERA was scheduled to rendezvous with a pantheon of Norse Gods and there were a universe of challenges ahead of her, including having to figure out how to fly the ship into some sort of chaotic energy ribbon. But at this exact moment, the only challenge Lt. Junior Grade Melanie Dox could focus on was the mirror in front of her.

She stared into it at her reflection, wearing the brand new uniforms that she'd learned of earlier in the day. Compared to the mostly black and grey uniform she had worn for her entire career in Starfleet, this was a stark contrast. The tunic was a solid sea of command red that emphasized every aspect of her body that she was uncomfortable with. Thank goodness it still came with pants, as she couldn't even IMAGINE having to wear the skirt versions in which Commander Paris and Ensign Gonadie were so comfortable.

Looking down at the bulge of her thick belly sticking out, Melanie sighed. But this was the new regulation uniform for the senior staff, and as Chief Flight Control Officer, that included her.

But she WAS a department Chief, and needed to be seen. So tonight was a good opportunity to try her new uniform out before her duty shift, tomorrow. She hoped to try and shake off her nerves and get over her issues. Taking a deep breath, she muttered under her breath in the Romulan tongue she was raised with, telling herself to relax. "Heieu."

Feeling as calm as she figured she was going to be, Melanie stepped out of her spacious, but largely empty officer's quarters and walked a little more briskly than normal to the turbolift. After a brief wait, the doors to the turbolift hissed open and she walked in and the doors closed behind her. "Deck ten, please."

In what felt like no time, Melanie found herself outside the doors to Ten-Forward. If she was going to go anywhere, it might as well be there. She hadn't eaten dinner yet and she had to go somewhere while she had the nerve. Straightening the sea of red that was her new uniform, she stepped in. And, of course, the room was fairly busy and since the uniform was currently only authorized for the key crew members, she was the only person there wearing it that she could see, though she didn't look that long at the room.

Stepping to the bar, Melanie flagged a bartender who was busy at the other end and waited awkwardly.

"Lieutenant Dox, I presume?" Ila Dedjoy sidled up to to the bar next to Dox and offered a handshake, also in the pants version of the new uniform. "I see you're in the sea of red as well. I'm Crewman Dedjoy, the Captain's Yeoman. I don't think we've actually met but I've handled most of your documents."

"Uh... Good evening." Dox responded a bit hesitantly at first, having been slightly startled by the appearance of the Yeoman. "Sorry, my mind was wandering. Yeoman... Dedjoy, you said? Hi. Um... Hello. Pleased to meet you." Dox met the offered handshake, getting her bearings back.

"It's good to meet you as well." Ila nodded as she tugged down on the jacket of the new uniform. "Sorry for approaching you like this, but as we're both wearing the new uniform, I felt it best if we stuck together and maybe get to know each other. The captain insisted that I start wearing it the same time she did."

Relaxing slightly, Dox smiled lightly. "Ugh, I'm glad you did. I thought I was the only person in the room wearing it. As if I don't stick out enough." She laughed slightly awkwardly.

Their smile brightened when they saw Melanie Dox at the bar. And was that…..Lifejoy? Deadsmite? No, no, silly. Deadjoy. That’s right, the Captain’s Yeoman. Ila somewhat intimidated Asa with her quick wit, adept mannerisms and an uncanny ability to access hidden information. Nonetheless, no better way to get past the discomfort than getting to know her.

Dael took a seat on the other side of Ila and requested a honey ginger tea from the server. Warm beverage in hands, they greeted their two companions. “Heya! Looking good Dox! How you two doing tonight?”

"Oh, hello Doctor." Melaine turned her head sharply as Asa called out to the stout pilot at the bar. She smiled broadly, genuinely liking the Doctor in their few meetings so far. Distracted by the doctor's entrance and Yeoman Dedjoy, Melanie was startled as the bartender tapped her on the shoulder. "What can I get you, Lieutenant?"

"Huh? Oh... Um... I don't..." Dox had completely blanked in the moment, trying to process everything in the busy room. Leaning forward awkwardly and smiling, she asked, "Uh... Doctor Dael. What should I get? What are you having Yeoman Dedjoy?"

A well-modulated voice somehow carried clearly over the good-natured din of the half-deck-sized lounge.

"Y'all evah heah of a Mint Julep?" the man in the distance called out. He was sitting in what passed for a corner in the classically-rounded locale, sipping on a tall, wide-mouthed glass, with a sprig of some leafy plant, perched on the rim, and more of the same, under the ice layer, all surrounded by an amber liquid.

The colorful Intel Chief grinned, and added, "...not ta be too foahwhud, mind."

Turning sharply toward the man in the corner, Melanie arched an eyebrow. She recognized Lieutenant Clemens from the lunch debriefing but couldn't remember his name for the life of her. "Um... I... have no idea what that is."

Dedjoy glanced over at the Intel Chief and nodded before looking back to the barkeep. "Tuna juice and rice wine on ice for me, please. Lieutenant Dox, I happen to keep stock of most inventories on board, and I believe they have a small supply of Romulan Ale, if you have an interest in it."

"Seriously?" Dox perked up at that prospect but was hesitant as it meant that Yeoman Dedjoy had done homework on her heritage. It wasn't in any way a secret, but it wasn't something she liked to project. But the one lesson that kept popping up in her time of the Hera was that being herself was usually the way to go. And so far, the harsh judgement that was common during her time in the Academy for being part Romulan was nowhere to be found on the Hera.

"That actually sounds quite nice..." Dox smiled awkwardly as she blushed her usually deep tan shade. "Thank you."

Dedjoy let out a sigh as she took her drink. "Thank goodness. I had assumed, based on your records... I process them all for the captain, and I sometimes get ahead of myself..." Now it was her turn to look a bit nervous. "Should we join Lieutenant Clemens?" She added, looking between Dox and Dael.

"It's fine, really." Dox paused, uncertain at first how open she wanted to be and decided to throw her anxiety out of a proverbial airlock. "It's not something about myself I'm always comfortable advertising. My... heritage. It's not generally... well received in Starfleet." She was still blushing as she nervously rubbed the top of an ear. "But yeah, we can go over."

Then Dox turned back to the bartender, still waiting patiently. "So, Yeoman Dedjoy says we have a supply if Romulan Ale. That sounds excellent, please." Without a moment of hesitation, the bartender replied with a smile. "Very good, Lieutenant. I'll bring it to your table."

"Most Illarans are called creepy-doll-face or worse so I can understand your discretion." Ila muttered as she headed over with Dox.

"What?!" Dox turned toward Dedjoy with her face scrunched into a shocked and a little angry face. "That's absolutely horrible." At the table Chief Clemens was occupying, she picked the seat closest to the Window as she liked being able to see open space whenever possible. Then she waited for the others to come over.

Asa followed the group to the table and took their seat Riker style from behind. They were still sipping tea, but their eyes moved around the room to check and see who was there. If the others had not known better, Asa was acting even more squirrely than usual. "Eh, everyone just assumes El-Aurians are old. Like, we don't emerge from the womb at age 400, ya know?"

"Seems like the Galaxy is filled with assumptions, sometimes," Melanie chuckled slightly.

With everyone settled in their seats at Clemens's table, the bartender brought Melanie her drink. The young pilot gave the pale blue liquid a light sniff then took a sip. Her eyes opened a little wider as she was pleasantly surprised. "Oh... I was thinking this..." She stammered, as was her habit. "This is NOT synthahol." She shot a look of inquisitiveness at Yeoman Dedjoy as she took a larger sip of the drink, letting it sit in her mouth for a moment. "This is good. This is... do you know? It's richer then not. I'm thinking... 2370's... 74? Not cut at all."

Looking down at her drink, she found herself momentarily lost in memories. "Before the embargo was lifted, most dealers mixed their supply with other liquors. 10% filtered Saurian Brandy, sometimes Vodka or even Aldebaran whisky. It stretched the supply out and was largely undetectable to most customers. Especially those that liked the idea of drinking something 'forbidden' and didn't really know good Romulan Ale anyway." Melanie realized she was going on and paused. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"Ramble away," Asa chirped happily.

"So, Lieutenant Clemens, what's your favorite type of music? I'm guessing you enjoy Bluegrass by the accent- or am I generalizing?" the doctor inquired cheerfully.

By this time, Clemens had ordered some finger foods for the table, and was happily stuffing his face with cheddar poppers, baked pretzels, beer cheese, and other even less healthy options. "Why, sure, ah do. There's sumpthin' magical 'bout th' way those boys 'n girls can make those boxes sing, with flyin' fingers." There was something different about him, tonight. He was somehow easier to understand.

As part of her rounds, in the evening Rita Paris liked to take a pass through the lounge. After all, back in her day a forward observation deck was a nice place to come and unwind if you wanted to see the stars slide by, and there was sometimes even a bar of sorts set up onboard, such as the 'Admiral's Lounge' on the USS Farragut. But there had been nothing like this back in her day, and it pleased her immensely that Starfleet had made it a policy that there should be an off-duty lounge for officers and enlisted alike to come together and mingle in a less brightly lit area with white noise generation that lent itself to relaxation and conversation. Internally she still kicked herself for never having thought of it, but in the modern day, it was a part of her evening rounds- popping in and checking on the crew at play, insuring that all was well on the mighty starship.

Spotting a collection of the senior officers, there was an instinct to join them. As an authority figure, she made many on board uncomfortable- when she approached, conversations quieted and people began to look nervous, thinking they might be in trouble. The conversation she'd had with the captain about it was partially observation and speculation, and partially her own experience. But the senior officers were mostly past that now- she had worked hard to develop relationships with them as peers, as shipmates who worked together for the common good of the crew and Starfleet.

Thus Paris uncharacteristically debated joining them for a moment, or just letting them have their fun without 'The Old Lady' about.

Doc Dael had just finished their tea and a plan was brewing in the young physicians mind. A plan to....misbehave? No, not that.....more like just really cut lose. The crew had been through an ordeal, and more was to come. No reason not to eat, drink and be merry this evening.

Seeing Rita enter 10 Forward cemented the plan in their mind.

Perfect. , they thought to themself, If I can recruit her, this is gonna work!!

Asa stood up and walked over to Rita, greeting her lurking inside the door saying, "Commander Paris! Great to see you! Hey, um, got a sec to collude? I... um, I have an idea to get everyone in here smiling... if you are game."

It seemed her debate over whether or not to join and socialize was overridden by the exuberance of the starship's chief medical officer. A smile settled on her face as Rita Paris clasped her hands behind her back, crossing the lounge to stand beside the table where the section chiefs had gathered. Striking a pose, one hand on her hip and the other moving as she spoke, Commander Paris nodded to all at the table, then focused her attention on the excited young El-Aurian.

"Evening, all. Doctor, positive crew morale is certainly something that I strive for daily. What did you have in mind, and how can I help?" There was an edge of humor to the cheerful commander's tone, for while what she was saying sounded official, her body language and inflection made it clear that this was light-hearted, as was the norm for the Hera's first officer.

With that, Asa's face light up with a megawatt smile and a look of pure delight appeared on their face. The doctor leaned over and whispered something in Paris's ear, too low for the rest of the group to hear. After receiving a nod of acknowledgement, they practically skipped over to the bar and exchanged a few words with the serving staff.

The bartender on duty was a grizzled looking older human man, but when he heard what Asa was hoping for he guffawed out a loud laugh and was heard by all to say "Perfect medicine, Doc. Count us in." With a few quick movements, the 10-Forward crew had cleared a couple of tables to the back of the room.

Looking like a goofy giraffe, Dael stood in the middle of the now emptied area of the room. "Computer, please activate program Dael 1."

With that said, the lights around the room dimmed, with a spotlight shining where Asa was standing. The doctors garb was now obfuscated by a holo-disguise that was somewhat shocking to anyone not expecting it. The normally demure doctor was wearing a skin tight leotard, replete with black and white diamonds in an alternating pattern. Fabric covered every inch from collarbone to wrists to toes- but it still did not leave much to the imagination.

As if to literally top off the absurdity of the garment, Dael had a red and gold crown on their head, much in the style of old English monarchs.

Before anyone had a chance to ask what was going on, Paris and the entire 10-Forward crew began a rhythmic pattern with their feet and hands.

STOMP STOMP CLAP!

STOMP STOMP CLAP!

STOMP STOMP CLAP!

Snorting as she tried to contain a laugh, Melanie Dox smiled broadly. In her few years on Earth, the one thing she knew the most about it's culture was just this. Music. The three notes beaten out were immediately recognized and she couldn't help but smile.

The rhythm continued as Asa belted out

"Clemens you're a boy, make a big noise
Playin' in space gonna be a big man some day
Hair on yo' face
But not a disgrace
Kickin' your can all over the place
Singin'"

Sam looked, at first, surprised, then delighted, at the impromptu event, and he immediately joined in on the stomping and clapping.

Both Asa, Paris, and the crew joined together to sing loudly

"We will, we will rock you!
We will, we will rock you!"

A growing number of people had picked up on what was going on, the STOMP STOMP CLAP catching on as it continued and Asa sang,

Dox you are a young girl, smart girl
Shoutin' in your sleep gonna take on all of space some day
Smile on your face
You've got a taste
For driving this ship all over the place!

We will, we will rock you! Sing it!
We will, we will rock you!

Paris you're a young girl, old girl
Searchin with your eyes, gonna make you some peace some day
Moving through time
But doin just fine
Nobody gonna put you back into your place

We will, we will rock you! Sing it!
We will, we will rock you!"

As the group sang the last chorus on their own, Asa walked up to Dox with a huge grin on their face. Right on cue, a holo guitarist appeared to play the guitar solo at the end of the song.

In Asa's hand an microphone had appeared, and they handed that to Dox, placing the crown on her head, and simply said...

"Ladies, gentlemen, and other individuals- Now to grace us with the perfect song for this evening....Melanie Dox!!!"

For her part, if Dox was blushing before her face now went positively flush as her eyes bulged out of her head in shock and she muttered under her breath, "Hnaev..." the Romulan word for 'Shit'.

At Asa's last words, the full band for Metallica appeared except for a singer. That was...definitely Lars though. The music changed from the major key it had been in to a familiar minor opening riff.

It was "Enter Sandman" playing- and all that was needed was for Dox to get up and sing.

Paris was clapping and smiling at the table, hoping everyone would be able to enjoy the doctors antics. They had clearly put effort into planning this little ambush, and it would likely do everyone good to have something to bond over.

For their part, Asa stood expectantly and nervously waiting for Dox to reply or move in some way....hoping they hadn't overstepped their boundaries, and really just wanting their friend to have a good time.

Sitting there for a moment, Dox felt a wave of panic in her gut as all eyes fell on her. She desperately hoped that a red alert would immediately appear so they would all need to report to their stations. Maybe a Borg attack. Anything to stop what was about to happen.

Instead, she stood up with the microphone in one hand, and a glass of Romulan Ale in the other, still mostly full. And, rolling her eyes, proceeded to down the entire glass in one shot. As the potent libation warmed her throat, Dox felt the knot loosen and she took a deep breath as the opening riffs of the song built to the point in which she knew she had to act. And act she did. Tucking the microphone close to her chesh, she leaned into it with her face scrunched tightly.

"SAY YOUR PRAYERS, LITTLE ONE! DON'T FORGET, MY SON! TO INCLUDE EVERYOOONNNNEEE!!"

For a short, round package, Dox's voice was unexpectedly strong with a harsh, gravelly texture as she howled out the lyrics that were extremely familiar to her. Shooting a quick, sarcastic smirk towards the Doctor as she sang, Dox took another deep breath and continued.

By the time the intro had played and Dox had belted it out, Rita Paris belted out an enthusiastic whoop.

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief, glad their plan was working.

"I tuck you in, warm within, Keep you free from sin, 'til the sandman he comes!!!

As Dox continued to rock out, Asa began headbanging along at the table, hooping and cheering her on as they went.

Commander Paris, intrepid explorer, femme fatale and impossible astronaut, was laughing aloud happily, humming along to the tune. In all her years of time and space, she had never seen impromptu Karaoke in a Starfleet lounge...but something about this worked, and she suspected this was going to become a pastime of the crew. Doctor Dael, it seemed, was a genius.

As the song ended, a much more relaxed but hoarse Melanie Dox pretended to throw the microphone at Doctor Dael in an exaggerated, fake swing. "Oh, you UGHNEN!" she yelled at the jovial doctor, than simply handing the mic back to them. "Someone else's turn, now!" She then turned to the bartender, holding up the empty glass in her hand and gesturing at it for a refill. But Melanie was legitimately having fun as she plopped back down in her chair, her thick auburn curls now hanging loosely around her shoulders as her bun gave up halfway through the song.

Turning toward the smiling Commander, Melanie decided that this was absolutely the kind of occasion where a degree of casualness was perfectly appropriate. "There are reasons I'm a PILOT! That was one of them." Dox laughed lightly as the bartender appeared with a fresh Romulan Ale for the stout Junior Grade Lieutenant. Her face still flushed and light brown from blushing, first with embarrassment that has since turned to exhilaration.

"Pfagh, you did great! You were amazing, don't kid yourself. I'm actually sort of tone deaf, so I'm a terrible singer. Which I shall now prove, because if there's one thing that has to happen at every karaoke night is that someone has to be terrible." Standing, Paris tugged at the hem of her skirt in a comical feminine variant of the 'Picard maneuver', then struck a dramatic pose. "I'm going in, people. This will cost me the respect of the crew and my peers, but sacrifices must be made in the name of karaoke!"

Asa was not to be deterred in their enthusiasm and whooped out a call of encouragement.

Daintily picking up the microphone, Paris trotted over to the bar, asked a few questions, then got her drink, tossed it down then took to the cleared 'stage'. "Computer gimme a spotlight, please?"

A spotlight shone down from the overhead, and there stood Rita Paris, looking to all the world as if she was the sole reason for it, and the crowd, having been warmed up by two amazing performances, prepared to be amazed.

"Thank you, Computer. Okay, since we're doing 'oldies' and I am quite the classic myself, we'll try one of the ballads of my homeworld. If you don't know the words, you should be able to catch on with the refrain. And I warn you, I'm serious, I am a very bad singer, so be kind, okay?" The grin that she wore showed that the words held no malice.

As the first few string notes sounded the beginning of the song, Paris began to warble off-key.

Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots
And ruined your black tie affair.
The last one to know, I was the last one to show
I was the last one you thought you'd see there.

Indeed, Rita Paris, so good at so many things, was indeed a terrible off-key and seemingly tone-deaf singer. The crowd exchanged grimaces and expressions of disbelief- was she putting them on, was she going to suddenly get better? By the time she got to the refrain, which was catchy, the crowd was trying to figure out if this was how the song was supposed to sound, if this was really that bad a performance, and how long it was going to go on.

But by the second time they approached the refrain, Paris called for the crowd. "C'mon, you know the words this time, help me out!" she called to the crowd, and they began to carry the tune for her, getting into the spirit of things. By the third and fourth refrains, the crowd was singing along, drowning out Paris, who was leading them only in a perfunctory sense.

Oh, I've got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns, and the beer chases my blues away.
And I'll be okay.
Oh I'm not big on social graces, think I'll slip on down
To the Ohhhhhh- asis
Well, I got frieeeeends in looo-o-oow place-e-es!

While the applause was not enthusiastic, it was polite, and Paris thanked the crew graciously for it and fled the stage. First she trotted to the bar to enact the next phase of her plan, then she scooted back to the table.

As soon as the leggy first officer arrived back at the table, the young physician put their hand up for the customary Earth tradition of a high five in congratulations. Asa was grinning from ear to ear and loving every minute of their friends and shipmates revelry.

Smiling broadly as well, Dox was genuinely having a good time and relaxed. It was comforting to her to be able to see her fellow crewmates relaxing as well. It was a reminder that they were all very much alike in many ways. However, Country music was not something that she had properly explored in her few years on earth and the song Paris had just sang was unfamiliar to her but she liked it, all the same, finding the lyrics oddly fitting for the eclectic mix of personalities that seemed to populate the new home she was rapidly falling in love with. "That was great, Commander." She smiled, authentically.

"I have done my duty, and on that note, it is someone else's turn, before I gain a different sort of terrible reputation," the first officer grinned. Pointing the microphone at the intelligence engineer, Paris offered an expectant look. "I think this is how Hera Rules Karaoke works, Chief Clemens? You get handed the mic, you have to sing. I queued up Marty Robbins 'El Paso, unless you have something else in mind maybe?"

The man in the grey uniform rose to his feet, and took the mic. He leaned against the edge of the bar, and nodded. The music spun up, the initially hopeful strains of the ballad twinkling through the air. He began to croon:

Out in the Badlands, somewhere near old Bajor
I fell in love with a Starfleeter girl
Nighttime would find me in a namelesss cantina
Music would play and the dancers would whirl

He lifted one arm, and spun about, dancing to the side, through the tables, deftly.

Blacker than night were the eyes of my Fleeter
Wicked and evil while casting a spell
My love was deep for this willful young maiden
I was in love, but in vain I could tell

As he reached the viewports, the Chief gestured out into space, illustrating its coldness, as the minor chords began to overtake the melody.

One night a wild young starbuck came in
Wild as the Gamma Wormhole
Dashing and daring, a drink he was sharing
With the girl in the short dress, the one that I loved

Suddenly, the Intelgineer spun round, fire in his eyes, as he laid into the next line:

So in anger I challenged his right for the love of this woman
Down went his hand for the gun that he wore
My challenge was answered in less than a heartbeat
The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor

Just for a moment I stood there In silence
Shocked by the foul evil deed I had done
Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there
I had but one chance and that was to run

Out through the back door to the launchbay I ran
Out where the shuttles resiiiiide
I stole a good one, it looked like a fast one
Jumped in the cockpit, away I did fly
Just as fast as I could from the madness and danger and mayhem
Out of the badlands and back to Bajor

Head low, he continued on:

Back in the Badlands, my life would be worthless
Everything's gone, in life nothing is left
It's been so long since I've seen the young woman
My love is stronger than my fear of death

I saddled up and away I did go
Flying alone in the dark
Maybe tomorrow a hot beam may find me
Tonight nothing's worse than this pain in my heart
And at last here I am on the perimeter of of the Badlands
I see the cursed cantina below
My love is strong and it pushes me onward
Into the Badlands to my girl I go

Off to my right I see five starship troopers
Off to my left fly a dozen or more
Shouting and shooting, I can't let them catch me
I have to make it inside the bay door

Something is dreadfully wrong, for I feel
A deep burning pain in my side
Though I am trying to stay in the flight path
I'm getting weary, unable to fly

But my love for the lady is strong and I rise where I've fallen
Though I am weary, I can't stop to rest
I see the blue beam of light from the phaser
I feel the hot line bore deep in my chest

From out of nowhere my sweet love has found me
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side
Cradled by two loving arms that I'll die for
One little kiss, then to my love good-bye

As the last chord faded, the moustachioed minstrel took a bow, and sauntered back to his table, handing the mic to Dedjoy.

As Dedjoy took to the center stage and punched in her song selection, a groan game from a few of the crew that already knew of the infamous woman's inability to carry a tune. In fact, her whole race seemed to be tone deaf and had created a whole series of instruments designed to torment any living being with ears. One such instrument was one that she claimed to be proficient at called the Mortepuss that made sounds reminiscent of those of dying strangled demon cats and could only be appreciated in the cold vacuum of space, by deaf creatures, and supposedly by those of her own people. At the last Federation symphony hosted by the Ilarans, a record thirteen diplomats took their own lives before someone set the building on fire.

But when the sounds of electric guitars and decidedly Earthly bagpipes burst from the sound system, it caught those few that had groaned by surprise. Her singing ended up more yelling at the top of her petite doll-like lung, but it was... Tolerable? Even recognizable as music, even.

By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young girl calling
Michael, they have taken you away,
For you stole Trevelyan's corn,
So the young might see the morn
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry

By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young man calling
Nothing matters, Mary, when you're free
Against the famine and the crown,
I rebelled, they cut me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity

By a lonely harbor wall, she watched the last star fall
As the prison ship sailed out against the sky
For she lived to hope and pray for her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry

By the time she had finished her song, she had proven that she was the worst singer on the ship and couldn't carry a tune of you handed it to her in a biocanister, but with the song she had chosen it didn't matter - everyone still had fun.

Stumbling down from center stage, she grabbed her glass and downed the whole lot of it and handed the mic off to whomever was standing next to her without even looking.

Caught up in the moment, Melanie Dox was laughing and cheering as Dedjoy finished. She turned to Asa with a smile on her face. "So, how long have you been planning this, doc?"

Doc Dael, grinning from ear to ear, replied, “As soon as you told me you liked Metal. Karaoke was a tradition on Earth for so many years, figured there must be something to it. Besides, when else was I going to get to dress up like Freddy Mercury?”

"Ha! Yeah, that might not come up in a mission anytime soon." Dox laughed and took another sip of her Romulan Ale before pausing for a moment with a sideways grin on her face. "Actually... Some of the mission reports I've read for the ship... You never know."

"Maybe someday I'll tell you the story of how I ended up as a stripper on Risa for three minutes," Paris added. "Starfleet- explore the galaxy, and some of the stories will not be ones you tell your children someday! This possibly being one of them," the friendly first officer said with a grin.

Choking momentarily on her drink, Melanie Dox let out a hearty laugh for such a short officer. "That is a story I am dying to hear one day, Commander." With all of the fun that had been had that evening, she now had tears running down her flushed, chubby cheeks.

Earlier in the evening, she had been nervous and had hoped she wouldn't even be seen. And now Melanie found herself laughing and singing with friends on her new home, having a legitimately good time.

It was, quite possibly, the first time in her adult life that she didn't want the party to end anytime soon.

The evening had been wonderful and fulfilling, and the human astronaut of another age had slept peacefully and well. While often Rita Paris found comfort in being held by her mate as they slumbered, given that Sonak often slept on his back (thankfully free of snoring), she would often curl up possessively across his athletic frame. Her arm would drape across his chest even as her leg hitched up about his waist, her ankle hooked about his thigh. Some nights she would even hold him, as she also enjoyed feeling his broad, tautly muscled back against the softness of her bosom, her hand cupping his elbow as her legs tucked in beside his.

After said restful and contented night, morning found the Starfleet siren sitting up in bed, working with a PaDD in her hand, as per usual. While their time together at night was strictly reserved for just the two of them, be it entertaining others or just spending time alone together, in the mornings she often awoke early to get some work done in addition to taking a run and making them both breakfast. In this case though, she was contemplating something far in the future, plans for which had no real relevance yet, just having confirmed the planned decision with Sonak the night before. But it was on her mind, and thus she worked at it, to free it from her mental queue. Besides, while they might not be enacting the plan any time soon, it was nice, she found, to contemplate and solidify her plans for the future ever so slightly.

It had come to her attention through the course of recent events that having her plans set in motion tended to have a definite and direct effect on how the cosmos reacted to her plans.

Of course, Sonak was aware of her- he was always aware, even when seemingly asleep, as he had mastery of his consciousness. Although at the moment the much noisier mind he was sharing through their bond was up first thing in the morning, and choosing baby names. As such, she was debating stirring him, although she could already hear him rising to consciousness in response to her unvoiced desire for his input.

"I sense an emotional stirring in you."

While he hadn't moved nor even opened his eyes, but his voice betrayed that he had been awake for quite some time. Which surprised Rita not in the least. She knew he meditated early in the morning and he had explained to her that taking any specific posture to do so was only necessary for beginners; so that they could better feel the relation between their thoughts and sensations, between mind and body and learn to master both. But he was past that for decades now. He could go in and out of a trance at will in any position and at any moment. He thus routinely used the technique to ponder scientific problems with a speed and deepness that could challenge the average computer.

But the problem that was now before him could not be resolved by his internal musing. Of course he could reach to her mentally, but he always chose to let her express her thoughts and feelings freely and as she chose, instead of just foraging inside her head, like a Klingon targ in search of grubs. It was more respectful of her, and more challenging for him.

Judging by her frown and concentration, it did seem at the moment that there was a challenge set before them.

"Mmmmwell yeah, I guess it is stirring me up a bit," Rita agreed, stroking his arm beside her. "See, we've established that this universe runs on predestination. Events in the past affect events in the future, and the more groundwork we lay in the past, the more likely it seems to become for that reality to come to pass. So, with that said, with the decision to procreate in the future agreed upon, I feel the need to name them before one of our time traveling descendants pops up on our doorstep and tells us what we end up naming our children."

"I would prefer the decision be ours, not predestination that ambushes us. I'll admit my logic is a little shaky in that first bit, but time traveling descendants does sound like an actual viable issue given our lives. So- is my logic sound?" While she was seeking his approval, this was also a way to engage him- by vocalizing her thoughts she ordered them, and it relayed them to him from her perspective so that he could process it and offer insight.

Rita had a suspicion most marriages did not work this way, and she felt for those poor people.

The solemn scientist sat up beside her and frowned a bit.

"If there is one thing we both have learned, it is that we can never predict the future; but we can nevertheless prepare for it. There is no harm in planning our children's identity; and the more time we take, indeed the more time we have to make corrections if needed, and have our minds freed for more pressing concerns. Yes; your approach is sound."

There was a pause for contemplation before continuing.

"On Vulcan, naming has been formalized after the Awakening to reflect our new way of life. Starting with Surak, which all Vulcans call the Father of all that is Vulcan, all succeeding generations have adopted an alternating naming system based on his name's phonetics. Thus, all male names start with an S, followed by either a vowel or a consonant in alternate between father and son. Thus, I am Sonak, son of Skon, son of Sanek, son of Stenn... and so on up to Surak himself, adopted as the spiritual father of all."

"The same was applied to female names, but from Surak's own mate, Tylynn, then her daughter Tjia, her grandaughter Tolaan, her great granddaughter Tvao... and so on. Traditional Vulcan names thus designate males with an S and females with a T. The rest of the name is made up to express the uniqueness of the individual. My own name, for example, "onak" is inspired by an ancient Vulcan word meaning "rebirth of the mind," as my early powerful psionic abilities were deemed similar to those of ancient Vulcans of legend. "

Sonak looked at Rita with his luminous grey eyes.

"Vulcan tradition has the male child's name chosen by the father, and the female one by the mother. But; I am not a traditionalist, so I am not imposing our traditions on you. You are Human. You do not have to follow our traditions. I wish to have you have as much of say in this as I do."

"Good! Well, I do have some thoughts," Rita replied, shifting her hip to lie on her side to face he husband as they carried on this discussion. "They will be children of two worlds, and there will have to be some choice for them whether they will follow the logical path or the emotional course, unless they decide to be emotional Vulcans. If the half-human Vulcans I have seen in my research are any indication, my adaptable genetics just make it so that they are still Vulcans, just infused with whatever it is humanity adds to that mix."

"That said, my initial thought is that we would give them Human and Vulcan names, and they may choose to abandon one if they wish, or keep them both as it suits them. I mean, no one ever uses my middle name, not even you anymore, because it's just not a part of my name I care for. I don't use it so it never comes up. But we could give the kids three names. Although I understand you just have one name, which has to be confusing given how many Vulcans there are and the limits of the alphabet." Well-manicured fingers crept across the distance between them, her fingers running through his chest hair as she spoke. Always, always did she wish to touch him, reinforcing and reassuring her that he was there, that she was there.

"Vulcans have family names," Sonak said matter of factly. "But they are unpronouncable for Humans."

"All this time I did not know that. Huh. Sooooo, I was also thinking they could carry my surname, which is prouncable by lots of races. A Paris has served in Starfleet since before it was even called Starfleet, and if we are doing this, I would very much like to uphold that tradition. Again, the children could choose not to use it and I would respect that, and they will always know that as they grow up. But it would make me very happy were they to bear my family name."

"Which begs the question, if that is the human half of the naming convention, do we only give them Vulcan first names to go with it for balance?" Her eyes sought his, seeking his thoughts. Which she could hear, but she appreciated him letting her slow it down sometimes so they could take things at her mental pace, despite how energized her mind became from contact with his.

"This would seem logical. Giving them a Vulcan first name they could choose to go by alone as I do, and a Human middle name to go with your family name in case they decide to fully embrace their mother's heritage. We could legally add the Vulcan family name so that, in the advent of preferring their father's heritage, they could simply drop the whole middle as do you and go only by their Vulcan name, and thus fully claim it. Would they wish to have their full ancestry acknowledged, they would thus have it all as well."

"I... wow, that was easy. We are both of the same mind, willing to respect our children's choices as we present them with options. Okay, maybe we won't make the worst parents ever," Rita wisecracked. "I'm very pleased that we agree. So, I had some ideas." fishing around behind her, Rita sat up a bit and tugged the sheet around her modestly. Producing the PaDD she had been working on, she read from her notes.

"So, for our firstborn son, I was thinking S'kon Jack Paris. I didn't know about the naming convention, but I guess... maybe I did," Rita offered. "S'kon is a variant of your father's name, honoring the ancestor. Yeah, I guess I was researching in my sleep. But I like it, it's... noble. What does it mean?"

"From Kon' or one who knows emotions; most appropriate, as he will have to assume his human emotional side and decide to control it or live it. And indeed it would follow my father's lineage in a most honorable way."

"Good! So Jack I chose because it's is a hero's name, the name of an adventurer," Rita said wisftully. "I'd wish adventure for him in his life, after all, and best he be named as a hero. Jack Paris. Or S'kon Paris. Or just S'kon Jack, oooh. Or maybe Betsy, who knows?"

"It will be indeed a grand adventure, demanding much courage to assume his gifts of two worlds. A judicious choice."

"I am pleased that you approve," Rita smiled, snuggling her shoulder into him to show him the PaDD. "Were she a daughter, I thought T'Ping Valentina Paris. Just name her for both our mothers and carry on both family names. I know of the memories of your mother you've shared, and she seems like quite the formidable personage. My mother was welding together starships in orbit over Mars when Daddy carried her out of the factory after OCS. She was tough and resourceful and better than he deserved, and he always knew it. So... your thoughts?" Rita refocused from her pad, instead taking in the kolinahr master and awaiting his perspective.

"Indeed, my mother was a remarkable individual; exceptionally sensitive and logical. It is from her genetic lineage that I inherited my distinctive abilities. Hence her name coming from the words pris or to braid or copper, the basic element of Vulcan hemoglobin, thus signifying the gift of her DNA and innate gifts to be passed on to her descendants. Valentina, from the ancient Earth Latin meaning heath and strength, qualities she should inherit through us both, physically and mentally."

"Again, most appropriate. I agree with your choices, Rita my wife. Our mindmelds seem to have joined us in spirit, as these are names I would have chosen myself."

The smile that lit up her face was one of happiness and excitement. "I have more... since, well, Hera said three, so I thought we could plan for that many at least, as it does no harm to do so. After all, the number of children we will have, given the medical intervention required, will be something quite controllable. Which," she held up a finger, "I say knowing full well that despite the best laid plans, there are always... possibilities."

"So for a son, assuming we don't recycle the first choice because the first child was a girl, I was thinking... Spock?" Rita winced a bit, naming the legendary explorer of their day, the first officer of the USS Enterprise under James T. Kirk. But the Ambassador Spock who had come to their timeline was a very different man, and a great man to whom they owed quite a lot. "I know it might be in poor taste, but his actions created the universe in which we met. Here we both died in transporter accidents, and never even met. And without his help and design you would never have been able to traverse time and dimension in relative space as you did with the 'Jellyfish'. Without Spock, we would never have come to be, and it might not be in the best of taste but... that was my thought. And Stuart, to honor our old friend and captain. Spock Stuart Paris."

Sonak took a moment before responding.

"It is not customary for Vulcans to have a name reused; each Vulcan name is meant to reflect the uniqueness of each individual. Hence why the security chief of the USS Voyager, Tuvok, had what should have been a feminine name; it was just like Jean in the language of the Americas was a woman's name when in the French language it was exclusively male. That being said, adding the name of our former commanding officer and friend and your family name would individualize him enough. And I understand your logic. Using Spock as his only name would represent a problem... but then, he could instead use Stuart as it follows traditional Vulcan naming structure and will certainly be unique to him. As a name with roots to Earth, it would become a new name with its own new meaning; 'Vulcan from Earth'. His lineage would be all the more celebrated."

“Well, that was… again, unexpected, and actually, okay, apparently the naming conventions aren’t that hard to work with,” Rita giggled slightly, surprised at how well this was going. “If we have another girl, I was thinking we could name her T’Pau, after the great negotiator and stateswoman of Vulcan.”

“I know, I know, I'm being derivative in all of these but… I like traditions. I want our children to feel a connection to their heritage, that bond to their past to help them bring those legacies into the future. On that note, I thought for a middle name we might name her after this captain, with a slight adjustment- Nalia is the shortening of Captain Telvan’s first name, and I would like for our theoretical daughter to bear the name of the starship captain who insured we could be reunited. So T’Pau Nalia Paris?” Rita looked expectantly to the theoretical future father of her theoretical children and waited to hear his theory on this name.

"Nalia would be most appropriate. But we have here the same problem as with the use of Spock," he reminded her. "But this daughter would not have the opportunity to use her middle name as her Vulcan name. So if I follow your reasoning and want to relate her to the legendary T'Pau, we could choose T'Kau, meaning "unifier;" sounding much like the celebrated name and sharing the symbolism."

“T’Kau… oooh, I like it! And I absolutely love the meaning, so you’ve made a perfect compromise there, m’love,” Rita was happy about this- considering it represented five minutes worth of work on her part. “That’s as far as I’d gotten, so I suppose if we were to be completist, we would likely need a name for our third child, just in case we have all boys or all girls. So, as I made the initial proposals and you have been so supportive, what are your thoughts for some hypothetical names for our hypothetical third child? I desire to hear your thoughts, my husband.”

He thought for a moment.

"Since we follow a pattern of Vulcan first name, Human second name and your family name before mine would be on the registry, I would propose Slan for a boy and T'Lan for a girl, from the name of the mountain I did my kolinahr training. As for the middle name, and since Human naming is different from Vulcan tradition, I can think of no better ones than, for a boy, Michael; and for a girl, Rita."

“Slan… Slan Michael Paris… I do like that. And T’lan… that’s beautiful, what does it mean?” It actually had never occurred to name a child after herself, but Rita did have to admit there was considerable appeal. While her middle name, her mother’s idea of a joke, had irritated her, the first name ‘Rita’ she had always loved and felt it suited her perfectly. The idea of potentially passing it on to another generation would never have occurred to her, yet she found it oddly flattering that her spouse would suggest it.

"L'langon was the mountain were I became a kolinahr master; so, either male or female, our child would bear the name of that mountain, a place of reflection, trial and achievement."

“Well, that would certainly suit a youngest child. Why Slan and not S’Lan? Just flows better, or is the apostrophe significant? Wait-“ As she often did, the lost navigator changed course in the middle of her own question. She began to ask if were the child a boy, why he could not be named directly after Sonak, but he had explained that, and the eldest already would bear that responsibility. Following the naming conventions as she understood them, there was no rearrangement of Sonak’s name that she liked at all other than S’kon, which for some reason she had a very distinct feeling was going to be exactly who they welcomed to the world, years from now. “No, I answered my own question, and it was stupid.”

Sonak shook his head.

"There is no such thing as a stupid question; but there can be stupid answers."

He looked at her, eyebrow slightly arched.

"Posing questions and discarding them is an answer in itself; that the question needs to be further thought about in order to truly lead to a valid answer. And that is the basis of wisdom; not to know all the answers, but to understand the questions."

It genuinely surprised her how oddly happy this discussion was making her, when she realized that it was very simple- they were making plans for the future. For the three years of their association, they had simply reacted to the universe, taking in stride what it offered and dealing with it threw at them.

They had never planned for the future, because they lived in the moment, never knowing what the next day might bring. This was very different for them- a long term plan implied that they would still be together, and able to enact those plans. It meant that they were not merely living in the moment, but building a future for themselves. It seemed the concept of continuing her Starfleet legacy filled her with a pride she had never known. While her father had always taken great pride in the Paris name and heritage in Starfleet, Rita had been the rebellious, headstrong daughter, fighting her father’s control at every step along the way.

But her father was nothing more than a historical footnote, and she and Sonak were free to carve whatever destiny for themselves and their descendants as they saw fit. They could encourage their children to pursue their dreams and aspiration, and give them the tools to be great, whatever they chose to do with their lives. She would not be a slave to the patterns of the past, and Sonak was easily the most adaptable being she had ever met- his discipline gave him self-control, which then enabled him to adapt to any challenge the universe could throw at him, and more.

It was too much to express aloud, so instead she simply held up her hand to him, palm toward him, in a silent request for contact. He could understand her instantly, and analyze her feelings and thoughts far easier this way, and this was too significant to risk diluting with words. What she felt in her heart at the prospect of an actual future with him and more in their family was so great, it could only truly be conveyed through the bond that he shared with her.

Sonak may not have any emotional need, but there was nevertheless a genuine satisfaction in the way his relationship with this most unique human female brought about endless wonderment. the disagreements were as constructive as the agreements they so easily came to. She was a most fascinating paradox as she was intensely emotional and yet capable or as powerful logic and reasoning as any Vulcan, full of uncertainties and yet showing admirable self-control and focus when it was ever needed.

She was an amazing and wonderful paradox he longed to explore as much as whatever all the universe could offer. He could see the whole universe, universes even, through her and within her.

His two fingers went to her with his eyes; and his katra. Her open hand folded to adapt to his overture, and Rita engaged Sonak as he silently requested, delighted by his indulgence as always.

A future, one they built together was filled with infinite possibilities. They both wished to teach at the Academy, to share what they had learned in their adventures in time and space, while teaching their own children and preparing them for adventures amongst the stars. Asa family they could explore the wonders of her homeworld, while taking vacations on Vulcan to see the sights and vistas once lost to them, now restored in a timeline undamaged as their native one. Children of two worlds, raised by parents proud of their heritages without being exclusionary, they would be raised to know both. Growing up they could choose to embrace either or both or neither, and they would be supported in their choices by their parents, who would nearly always be of like mind. Which still made her giggle as he raised an eyebrow slightly.

As their minds blended and she felt their souls intertwine, her mind raced and she realized S'pok is unique and would only get him a double take! You're a genius!

Hardly, he thought back to her. It was your idea. I merely bowed to your logic.

The USS Hera is looking for a few good writers. Come create a memorable character whose fantastic career and friendships will be the stuff of legend, with an easy-going and friendly crew. Battle mad gods and titans, and grapple with the forces of the universe. Uncover ancient and untold secrets using Federation technology, some good old Starfleet ingenuity and teamwork in the year 2395. Will you be able to save the Federation from certain destruction? Who knows what the future will hold, but it will be a cosmically epic tale along the way!

Join the USS Hera today! And remember – we're not your everyday Trek!

The ad we ran on a Star Trek recruiting hub on FB.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/616437888378595/

"So, you have the report, what Dauntless was able to decrypt of it at least, and we know that Victorium was somehow instrumental in surviving the transition through the energy ribbon that we're chasing. Then we need to analyze the projections from the EM barrier and find a way to shield the Hera’s power systems when inside it, or in transition, I'm not sure. Plus the Commodore was apparently using some sort of plus experimental spatial distortion shielding which ties it all together. So," Rita Paris spread her hands wide to encompass the group she'd gathered in Main Engineering. "You are all brilliant folks- is this the part where I leave you to speak in technical terms most of which I don't understand for a while then I come back, or would you prefer for me to stay and try to contribute?"

The question was asked openly and honestly, as one would expect from Paris. Her feelings wouldn't be hurt if they told her to go tend to other things, or she would happily stay and find a way to make herself useful.

Sonak raised an eyebrow.

"You are the first officer of this starship. As such, your main concern is the ship and her crew. As much as we might devise technical means to tackle problems, you will always keep in focus this most important consideration for us, while we ponder from the hypothetical to the theoretical. Thus, you will help us properly get to the practical."

As if the matter was settled for him, his grey eyes lost their focus a moment as he went inside his mind, then spoke.

"Shielding the ship from electromagnetic interference is relatively simple; either use dense atomic material, like gold or platinum, or ideally osinium or iridium, to construct actual physical shielding... or a more powerful form of energy to nullify it's force. That would be nuclear force which is a thousand times stronger than EM emissions but only effective at ten minus factor thirteen centimeters. It would require precise positioning and any loss of power could compromise it's efficiency. Ideally both approaches, energetic and material,would maximize our effectiveness."

Ila chimed in as she rattled off her knowledge of the Oberth class. "Victorium is used in Oberth class construction because of its resilience in spatial anomalies. On top of that, Intel tends to use experimental shields on the ones they dispatch. Since we have the settings for both... However, the Hera is made of a poly-duranium alloy. Victorium is used in place of trellium-k, which would be far easier to shield the ship with, but is highly toxic to all Vulcanoid races. Realistically, we'll have to come up with a substitute shielding to... Did the Commodore say something about space twisting around them? Maybe a form of warp shielding to simulate the effects of victorium?"

Sonak nodded.

"There are not many Vulcans on board. If memory serves, work on vaccination against trellium-K had been started as early as the 22nd century. That would be a possibility for our chief medical officer to explore and hopefully validate and implement. If all else fails, I and any other Vulcanoid aboard could wear either an old style 23rd century life support belt or if need be a vacc suit while the compound is in use. What must be first considered is the safety of the ship and it's capability to do it's mission."

"I could modify a few of the vacc suits to make it easier and more comfortable for you to move in." Thex responded as she was already looking through a starfleet database for anything that could help with this situation. " I'll need to clear out one of the cargo bays to process the Victorium so we'll have to move the cargo into the other bays."

Crewman Dedjoy had out a PaDD and was running a few numbers. "The trouble will be getting enough victorium. Oberth hulls are made entirely out of it and it seemed they had trouble surviving. We would need enough to almost rebuild the Hera. Commanders, with all due respect, as a geologist by trade, I estimate we would need about forty seven thousand tonnes of it to shield a ship our size. Even if we used trellium-k, it would take... Twenty three tonnes. That's a lot of mass to add to the Hera, not to mention the time required."

The Vulcan looked up at the crewman.

"The energy solution would appear to be the logical choice then. But to ensure safety, nucleonic forcefields protecting our systems should have a distinct, independent power source. I would suggest micro nuclear power plants, like those used in the old Constitution class to recharge emergency batteries when main power was offline. Not only are they already calibrated for the kind of energy we need to counter all EM emissions, but they can not be knocked offline except by utter destruction; which, if it happens, would make everything else irrelevant, since it would mean the whole ship has been destroyed. For added safety, a basic ejection system could jettison them out in case of trouble with them."

"Hum." Thex said from her seat as she flicked through a few diagrams. "Would need to dig the diagrams out of storage, but they could work. Would need an adaptor so they can work with our current systems." She looked over at Deadjoy, a polite look on her face. " How much Victorium would we need to create some armor plates to protect the weak parts of the ship? The airlock, shuttle bay doors.. etc. We may as well get them armored. "

"That's still a lot of tons of material and weight added, mass consumed and time and labor spent, Chief," the first officer shook her head. "I think for now we'd be better off focusing on fields to keep these distortions at bay. Additionally, the flight team has some shield configurations that they'd like for you to look over to see if you have some suggestions or input." Paris tapped her PaDD to bring up the configuration, then looked to the overhead. "Computer, please project Gonadie Delta Mala Three at one meter before me, chest height, one meter in size."

With a slight hum of holographics, a three foot reproduction of the USS Hera hovered there before them with translucent shields in the shape of an egg with a reinforced indentation at the back and shield fins in an X pattern towards the rear. "I'm leaning toward calling it 'the Bombshell' myself, but it's Miss Gonadie's project, so she gets to name it. Can we produce all of the micro reactors in time. And the fissionable materials, I guess it's just a matter of replicating the dense matter...?"

Ila raised a hand. "As a note, the current portable micro-fusion generator can power a Miranda class and take it up to warp two if needed and we have about four dozen of them in the pod ready to go."

"Or, sure, we might have literally dozens of them on hand, sure," Paris changed course fluidly. "So you're saying no problem on the nucleonic forcefields because we can easily and deeply redundantly power them, Miss Dedjoy?"

"Ahh..." Ila tapped at her PaDD doing some quick math. Inventory and specs like this were part of the purview of the Captain's Yeoman so she had these numbers ready at hand. "The field generators will need to be replicated since those we don't have in stock... But, yes I believe we have enough spare portable generators as long as Commander sh'Zoarhi can manage the shield mechanics of... Whatever that is. Field generators are much easier to replicate thankfully."

"Ah. so just field generators- that's a relief," Paris nodded, then turned to Thex. "Ms. sh'Zoarhi, do we have an appropriate design for these on hand or does one need to be designed for the task at hand?"

"The standard federation field generator is a hefty beast. I'd like to add a little more shielding to them, but I can do that in five minutes." Thex replied eagerly.

There was a pause of a few seconds where the crimson-clad commander blinked a few time, then parked a perfunctory smile on her face "That's interesting, but it didn't answer my question, chief. Try again? Nucleonic forcefield generators. Do we have an appropriate design for these available or does one need to be designed for the task at hand?

"Yes, we do have one." Thex responded politely.

"Thank you, Commander," Paris nodded then turned to the chief science officer. "Lieutenant, do we have any science packages that you'd like to install in the sensor bays for this mission-specific opportunity to record data or telemetry? I believe flight control has some energy wavelength apparatus they will be employing on the bridge- you may wish to liase with them to perhaps assist them with the sensors or perhaps enhance our sensor readings with their principles. Ensign Gonadie and Lieutenant Dox are working on that as we speak."

Sonak stood straighter and offered her a PaDD where his fingers rapidly input algorythms for her to peruse.

"Indeed Commander, I do. The planned mission will require the best we have to detect, record and analyse energy matrices and biometric data and correlating the two. Such data, beyond scientific knowledge, should prove most useful in devizing effective defensive measures for the Hera and her crew; if onyl as an early warning signal. I could program the computer to link our navigational sensors as well as our tactical sensors to work along our lateral sensors and create a sensor grid specifically tailored for what we expect to encounter. A simplified version of this programming could also be downloaded to our tricorders."

"Excellent. Please have your teams coordinate with engineering so we aren't working at cross purposes. So, that covers shielding and sensors, power needs and hull shielding- yes, hull plating, We touched on this earlier- Yeoman, what were you saying about the elemental compositions of the hull plating in relevancy to Victorium?" Paris paused, then shook her head as she muttered. "I cannot believe I remembered all of that."

"Sorry, Commander?" Ila glanced up from her PaDD. She had been lost in thought, her normally passive doll-like face deep in concentration. "Ah, the victorium? Our hull is composed of a poly-duranium alloy. Durable and excellent for large ships like ours, but for leaping into spatial anomalies, not the most resilient. However as a geologist by trade, I've studied the geo-harmonic field densities of most minerals, including victorium. Using quantum resonance emitters and some creative engineering, I've been able to force certain elements to mimic the properties of other elements, which can be useful in scanning and defensive technologies, but isn't very energy efficient."

Yeoman Dedjoy waved her PaDD around a bit, trying to explain. "It's one of the principals that earned me my given name - we discovered a new element on a planet but had no way to scan for it so I had to invent that too. The long and short of it is that using some of the new equipment in the pod, I believe that I can convince our poly-duranium hull to mimic most of the properties of victorium for about... Fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty minutes? I would just need about ten kilos of victorium to resonate off of."

"You're going to alchemically alter the skin of the starship. The future is so very amazing. Do we have any victorium onboard or do we need to go scanning the area of the ribbon to see if a part fell off the Oberth?" Paris asked with a chuckle. "Will Mr. Sonak need to suit up to avoid exposure with the hull plating or is that a shot the Doc will have to come up with?"

"For that small of a quantity I think the debris samples of the USS Cossette that we have from our last mission should be sufficient." Ila nodded and pulled up the inventories on her PaDD. "It seems that's still in cargo bay two. as for the toxicity, refined victorium is perfectly safe for all vulcanoid races but I would keep any smaller pets from licking it."

"So we have redundant systems in place to protect us as we try to surf a cosmic energy wave in space," the 25th century career gal asked. "Any concerns from the Engineering or Science departments we should address?"

Sonak spoke with his usual deadpan tone.

"Probes should also be altered as the ship. We may need them if our sensors fail or getting close proves too hazardous or unfeazible. I would suggest a few EVA suits should also be properly modified in case they are needed.And we should not forget not only shuttles but escape pods, in the eventuality that we have to abandon ship while still in the critical area."

"Put your teams on it, coordinate with security and flight control please. I rather like the idea of firing our a probe or two before we fly in there ourselves, Mr. Sonak- excellent stratagem. Authorized, please keep me apprised daily or as developments warrant. Chief, any worries from the engine room or structural concerns, flying through a spatial distortion?"

" Current conditions look good. The Hera can take a beating and keep going. Though I'll continue to reinforce some areas that would be in the most danger. " Thex replied honestly.

"Spectacular. Let's move forward with the plan for the nucleonic force fields and the quantum resonance emitters, definitely reinforce her structurally wherever you have concerns, we'll prepare a probe or two, and it sounds like we're well prepared. Thank you all for your input," Paris nodded to each of them in turn.

"Now let's make all of this happen, so that when we go do the impossible this time, we make it look easy!"

Walking down the corridor towards sickbay, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox had a little less spring in her step than usual. The festivities of the earlier evening and one too many Romulan Ales were still lingering with the young pilot, but it was nothing she couldn't manage. To anyone who hadn't witnessed the impromptu karaoke session that the ships doctor had engineered the night before, everything would appear perfectly normal with the short, rotund officer, but she was still feeling it.

The doors hissed open as Dox arrived at the U.S.S Hera's sickbay, holding in her arms a somewhat clunky looking flight helmet. She didn't immediately see the ships Chief Medical Officer, Asa Dael, so she announced her presence. "Doctor? Good morning, I'm here for the consultation I asked about in yesterday's memo."

The previous evening did a world of good for Asa. They had been planning that little ambush since the first meal shared with Lt. Dox when she mentioned a love of metal. That so many officers had been in attendance and participated only added to Dael's pleasure with the evenings events.

Hearing their name, the doctor bounced out of their office. "Good morning! How are you? That was so fun last night, thanks for playing along! You were great!" they enthused.

"So, what can I do to help you today? You feeling ok? You look a bit tired. Have breakfast yet?" the doctor inquired. Somehow the first thing they offered was always food or drink, but so far no one had complained.

"I'm okay, Doctor. Thanks, and no thanks. I just had breakfast." Dox replied with a smile. "As for being a little tired, one does not drink if one is not prepared to pay for it the next morning. I hydrated well afterwards, so I avoided a hangover, thankfully. I'm just a little tired, still. I've not been getting as much sleep, as usual, the last few days is all."

Changing the subject slightly, as Dox didn't want to linger on the fact that she's been being woken up by nightmares for the last few nights, she instead held up the helmet in her hands. "I brought the flight control helmet I mentioned. Ensign Gonade designed it to create a 360, view of space while flying that enables a pilot to see as if the ship was essentially invisible. It also projects in the color spectrum as her species sees things." Dox placed the helmet on the table next to where she was standing. "The problem is that the sensory input is extreme and tends to cause nausea and migraines with prolonged use. I need to calibrate it to my own brain and, hopefully, figure out how to get past nausea and headache problem if it's going to be useful for our upcoming mission."

The doctor nodded and leaned over to pick up the helmet. They scanned it quickly with a medical tricorder, and then pulled up a PaDD to review the details on the differentials in color spectrums across species.

"Right, well, first thing- help me understand, what is the advantage to providing you with additional color spectrum inputs? That's going to definitely cause migraines, no two ways about it, your brain just isn't wired for that. Help me understand the tactical advantage, and maybe we can adapt it. As for the motion sickness, I have a theory or two, but I would need to see this in operation. Will it still function effectively in here?"

"Yes, it should. It still has a hardwire connection for quicker data transfer with the ships sensors, but it can attach to most computer data ports on the ship." Dox gestured to the tied up cable bundle out the back of the helmet. "As for the added spectrum data, Ensign Gonadie's species can percieve color on a spectrum so... advanced... that she can SEE what are essentially flow patterns in otherwise empty space. Like how birds can see air currents and hot air flow in an atmosphere." Dox began to smile, as talking about this aspect of flight brought out the excited pilot in her.

"It's all data our sensors can detect, of course, but for our upcoming mission the advantages of me being able to SEE these currents in real time could be... invaluable." The excitement was slightly burst as she chuckled slightly. "Which, of course, would be partly negated if I can't fly because I'm throwing up all over the helm."

"No, that makes perfect sense actually," Dael replied. "Often the first step in processing new information is learning what to call it. These colors are unfamiliar to you, therefore they are causing sensory overload. But if you have names for them, and learn to say them and focus on the properties and shades of each color, it will be less overwhelming. Ask Gonadie for the names of the colors- then let's program flashcards or something where you can work on identifying the colors one at a time, then two at a time, and so on until they feel more comfortable. It shouldn't take too long to learn once programmed. No different than learning about maroon versus red growing up, really."

"Now, the motion sickness," Dael continued, tricorder whirring, "That is something else. The crystals deep in your ear canal are what monitor your balance and ensure equilibrium. They operate based on the subtle movements of your head. However, since you aren't actually moving when wearing this, the micro-crystals do not know how to compensate for the shifts in perception. Early 21st Century Humans experienced the same thing when VR headsets first came more into fashion. Most of the holistic methods for addressing this aren't going to be enormously successful, but I posit we can program some nanobots to compensate the micro-crystals in your inner ear. They will sync up with the helmet and help you keep your equilibrium. Are you open to that solution?"

"Doctor, I didn't even know I HAD crystals in my ear, so I'm all for trying whatever you suggest," Dox replied, hopeful that the Doctor's suggestions would bear fruit. "And I'll touch base with Ensign Gonadie to talk to her about your idea. Thank you."

"Of course. If you like, we can go ahead and put in the nanobots now. They became standard treatment for individuals with chronic vertigo back in 2387, so it won't take a moment to go ahead and replicate them. Just a quick hypospray in the ear and they will find their home and we can check the efficacy?"

The doctor was already moving to the replicator as they spoke, preparing the replicator for its assigned task.

Watching as they worked, Dox's tone shifted ever so slightly at the thought of the hypospray. She genuinely liked Doctor Dael, but for reasons she could never quite articulate, medical procedures of any kind tended to make Dox uncomfortable. But she was determined to push past such nonsense in her head. "Thank you, Doctor. I've only got about two more days to get this system up and running before I'll be out of research time, so the..." She paused momentarily as her throat went dry. "...the sooner the better."

Sensing the tension in their friends voice, Dael moved back and took the seat next to Dox, placing their hand over hers gently.

"Hey, wanna know a secret? I hate shots. Absolutely hate them. Doctors aren't supposed to mind, right? But a lot of us do. It's never fun thinking something is gonna happen to your body, but I promise, this won't hurt. It's kinda like getting some air and a few water droplets blown in your ears. It feels weird, but no worse than when you touch something that's sticky for unknown reasons, or when your food is slimy when you weren't expecting it," they said with a smile.

"So, whaddya say? Ready to be a cyborg?"

Blushing slightly, Dox smiled at her friend and relaxed a bit. Thanks, Doc. I know that all in my head... But my stomach can't ever seem to learn it." She chucked awkwardly. "Cyborg me up."

“I get it, really,” Dael replied softly. Without further torture of the intrepid pilot, they put the hypospray first into Dox’s left ear canal and then the right, gently depressing a plunger that propelled the nanobots into the woman’s ear, where they immediately would sense the inner ear crystals and seek them out to attach to.

Doc moved back to sit next to Melanie and said in a low, soft tone, “OK, so the nanobots are doing their thing right now. We are just going to give them a moment or two to get nice and settled in before we talk above this tone, or until it’s a great idea to walk. You won’t even notice them once they are settled, but let’s just take a moment and rest right now, ok?”

Not waiting for Melanie to respond, Asa continued, “I have a thought on the migraine problem too. It’s a short term solution until Gonadie can work with you to fully define and become desensitized to all the new colors you are seeing. I can sequence your neural activity while you are using the helmet and determine ‘vibration’ you are at, so to speak, when the headaches start to come on. Then we can block the pain receptors that are acting in response to that vibration. It’s not a long term option- pain has a purpose in the body- but it will be safe enough to do for a few weeks. What do you think?”

Replying softly and slowly, Dox took her time as she was feeling stability come back into her brain after a few moments of vertigo. "Yeah... that sounds good, doctor." Her eyes gently shut to help her focus on her equilibrium resetting, she thought out each response to be as short and to the point as was possible. "I'll defer to your expertise here." But she was smiling at Doctor Dael, genuinely thankful to her friend for their gentile bedside manner.

Slowly, Melanie reopened her eyes and lifted her head back up to normal as she began to feel normal again. "Ooh. There we go. That feels better. Much better. Thanks, Doctor."

“Of course, that’s what they keep me around for after all. So, ready to try those bad boys out? Let’s do a quick test and let me see how everything is clicking, ok?” Dael replied, still speaking softly, but with a return to their usual jovial nature.

"Sounds good. Are we talking a basic coordination test or something with the rig?" Dox replied.

"Let's start with basic coordination, and then move to a full test of the rig. So, please go ahead and put the helmet on and see if you get any nausea or other motion sickness from the motion differential. Then we can focus on the pain receptors from the color spectrum," Dael instructed.

"Absolutely. Just one moment." Dox reached up and pulled the thick bun of auburn curls down to let her hair fall to her shoulders. Awkwardly, she chuckled as she picked up the helmet and put it on. "I have an appointment this afternoon with the ships barber. This this doesn't fit right with my hair up and it gets tangled in the cables and I'm sick of fighting with it." It was obvious that she was making uncomfortable small talk as the idea of cutting her hair made her nervous. "Anyway, plug me in to a data port, Doctor. Thanks." Dox felt around to the back, pulling the cables forward and fussing with a mess of hair already tangled up in them.

For their part, Asa laughed. “Well, we can both see I have an affinity for short hair. I’m sure it’s going to look great on you. Besides, if you hate it, we just give you a hair growth supplement or a fancy weave. I bet’cha the counselor would know some great styles, she seems pretty darn hair adept.”

After moving to pull the cables into a data port and seeing the pilot was settled into the helmet, Doc Dael said, “Ok, now start slowly and describe what you are doing and what sensations you are feeling. Disregard the whirring you hear, it’s just me being a nervous nelly and scanning you the whole time. Whenever you are ready.”

Without hessitation, Dox reached up and pushed the activation button on the side of the helmet. There was a quick humming sound that flaired up then faded back down as the projection filled her field of view. A perfect, three dimensional representation of space outside of the Hera as it was at that exact moment.

Of course, at that exact moment, Dox hadn't realized she was sitting facing the rear of port and was momentarily startled. "Oop. Hold on, this is weird. I'm facing the wrong way and space is warping away." She turned on the table to sit facing forward to the ships motion. "There we go. That's better."

The effect of Doctor Dael's nanobots was immediate. "The first thing I can notice is what I'm not noticing, Doctor. There's still some disorientation, but it's significantly reduced. Yeah, this is a big improvement so far."

“Good, I see readings from the nanobots, they are learning with you and adjusting. Is it possible to tilt you perception a few times and give them a run for their money? Let me know if the nausea increases and we can use a chemical solution also as needed," the doctor replied, tricorder in hand.

Turning her head towards the sound of the doctor's voice, Dox replied. "Sure thing. Um... Okay, do NOT laugh." She put her hands forward as if she was at the helm of the ship, and began gesturing side to side. As she did, she bobbed and turned her head accordingly, as if she were flying.

"Feels better. There's a little bit of... like a drag. Like my vision is a little slower then my head. A wobbly but much more bearable."

The wirring sound stopped for a moment, and Dox could hear the sound of buttons being clicked nearby, then a higher pitch short burst of whirring before the normal pitch resumed.

"OK, that should adjust that. You have slight asymmetry in crystal structure, but nothing the 'bots can't adjust to with a little help. Let me know how that feels and please turn on full spectrum color visuals and lets see what that does. Don't worry about looking silly, I think you forget who you are talking to," the doctor said, mirth in their voice.

Smirking at the thought, Dox replied. "Okay. Here goes." She reached up to a second button along the side of the helmet and pushed it. The projection rippled slightly as an entirely different spectrum of colors, generally invisible to most eyes flooded Melanie's perceptions. It was beautiful, but also overwhelming. "Yeah... Yeah. There it is."

Shutting her eyes almost instantly at the momentary sensory overload, Dox slowly reopened them to take it all in. After the initial moment, the visual information seemed to regulate a bit and the momentary disorientation faded. "There we go. It's getting better, Doctor." Dox proceeded to move her head around as before. "Yeah. Still... A lot. But much better."

“Ok….better is good….but your pressure spiked right before you first made the switch to full spectrum. It’s back down to within parameters, but the anxiety you feel dreading the migraines and sickness might be feeding into them. Either that, or the visual stimulation is causing an anxiety response. Or both…any way about it, I’m going to recommend a blood pressure regulation device be in use while you are using the helmet. It looks like a small bracelet that will deliver small doses of blood pressure through your skin if needed. The pain blockers can be delivered this way as well. Please continue as you normally would and let me know what adjustments you feel and if or when the pain starts. If you feel something touch your wrist, that’s just me, ok?” Dael spoke in a measured, melodious tone. They didn’t want Dox worrying unduly- but they were glad she had sought a medical opinion. Long-term spikes in blood pressure like that were not healthy.

"Okay. So... I just keep... um... pretending to fly here." Dox grinned a little aiming her head towards where she's marginally sure Doctor Dael was standing. The young pilot began adjusting her position and moving her head as if at the helm. "How's am I looking? So far, feeling pretty smooth."

"Yeah, gotta say, looks good so far. I know this feels weird. How long do you usually get before the migraines kick in? I want to make sure I program the med-bracelet for the right pain receptors to block."

Pausing to remember correctly, Dox replied. "My best time in running sims today was... 35 minutes."

The doctor ran some numbers quickly in their head, then came to a conclusion, "Ok, I think that gives me what I need. I'm programming the med bracelet to provide dermal relief to the mechanical and sub-chemical receptors along your ninth-facial cortex. Which, roughly translated, means no more headaches. In theory."

Dox felt a clasp of a bracelet around her wrist, gently touching the skin to make sure it made contact.

"This should do the trick. Wanna try it out in some sims and let me know? I have it programmed to take vital signs and record whenever it is turned on, which will happen automatically when touching your skin and the helmet is activated. Now, I'm also seeing signs this is going to impact your metabolism. That is to say....this is a huge drain on your system. I want you in here every week for vitamin level checks and to make sure there are no long term side effects as you go. And...eat protein. Lots and lots of protein," the doctor concluded.

"Will do, Doctor." Melanie pulled the helmet off tugging on her hair as she did uncomfortably. She muttered to herself lightly "Yeah. This has got to go." Then turned to. The doctor again. "Thank you very much. I appreciate you making the time for me today."

"Anytime!" Dael chirped. "Now get out there and fly us where we need being!"

While the Merosian masons and artisans had done outstanding work on Malana and she was healing amazingly well, it had come time for the sentient stone biologist to go in for a checkup. While she outwardly had no issues she suspected that she still had some internal cracks that had yet to fully heal and the best person for that job was Doctor Asa Dael. After all, as a Biologist herself, she knew the general workings but was no healer.

Stepping into the main sickbay, Malana announced her presence. "Doctor Dael? I have a scheduled appointment."

"Of course!" Dael replied brightly. "Come on back, how are you feeling?"

They motioned Malana to their office, Dael's preferred consultation venue. The doctor felt it provided better privacy for discussing what may be on a patient's mind than the open bed portion of Sickbay. Of course some tests and treatments required the medical beds, but at least the initial conversation could occur behind closed doors.

"Thank you, Doctor," Malana followed Asa into their office and slowly lowered herself into one of the chairs. "I feel I'm healing well and the Merosians did exceptionally well at putting me back together... But I'm afraid I may have some internal damage that they missed. I'm also worried that Ashravena physiology may be... Difficult to work with."

The doctor moved around the desk and began scanning the stony woman with their tricorder. As the readings came up, Doc Dael exhibited a slight frown. “Well, your intuition served you well. It does seem like there is a crack along the interior base of your pelvis and also a slight fissure on the inside of your chest. Would you please join me at bed 4? Nothing we can’t patch up. Any other pain areas I should know of?”

The doctor motioned towards the fourth bed along the rear wall of SickBay. It looked slightly different than the other deep scan/regeneration stations. In anticipation of unique needs to the Hera’s unique crew, Dael had equipped granite generators and rock stabilizers to the bed. Also, if needed it would form an airtight barrier and flood the area with an epoxy spray designed to seal any life threatening injuries and allow for better adhesion.

As Malana stood and made her way to the biobed, she thought it over. "My fingers are healing well, but there seems to be some slight discoloration from the Merosian patchwork in a few places, most notably at my joints. It's just cosmetic so I wouldn't normally mention it, but..." Rolling up onto the biobed, she let the thought hang in the air like a stone balloon.

“Nah, nothing wrong with wanting to look like yourself,” the doctor replied, “I can refashion the skin graft tool to replicate your stone-dermis from nearby digits and graft them on using the medical epoxy. Won’t take but a moment, might tickle a bit though.”

Malana heard the doctors voice coming from about three different location in the course of delivering that one sentence as Asa bounced to couple of cabinets nearby to secure the needed equipment. Suddenly their head popped up in view wearing a smile and waggling an unknown gadget in front of their face.

“See? Ready to go, easy as pie.” That said, the doctor lightly held Malana’s right hand, inspecting it and seeing the discoloration she had referred to. A thin red beam of light came from the grafter, scanning the nearby stone. Then the beam turned orange as it replicated a fine layer of stone and affixed it to the discolored areas. After instructing Malana to try to not move, the doctor moved to the left hand and repeated the procedure.

“Right as rain. I’ll give you a wax to use for the next week in case you get itchy or any other odd sensations. It will also help encourage the graft to stay, just apply once per day. OK, so, let’s get to scanning, shall we?”

Without waiting for an answer, Dael was already bringing up the wings of the bed to close in a loop around Malana’s prone form. The doctor was selecting a few buttons at a time and absorbing the readouts. They tapped their hands together impatiently while waiting for the full results.

“My initial readings were correct- there are some deep cracks, no doubt causing you some discomfort. The best way to treat this is going to be a deep sealing spray. I’m going to need to insert a probe, about the size of a wire, into the one crack that has an exterior entrance. We will then release the sealant spray into your core, where it will seek out the weak points and reinforce them, sealing them permanently. The bed is going to put up a force field to ensure no dust or other particles interferes with your healing process, and I’ll be just on the other side, guiding the probe and sending instructions to it. We are going to need to stop and put in additional layers of sealant at different parts of your body. The whole process should take about 30 minutes. Does that sound ok? Any questions?”

The doctors tone was confident and measured, making no effort to conceal that the procedure was involved, but also welcoming questions or input from their patient.

Malana leaned back and tried to repose herself like a good slab of masonry. "My people are not commonly known for emotions at all and are known for extreme patience. Indeed, our first space flight, instead of the usual rockets most races first build, we decided to start off with a space elevator and just use that to go to outer space to launch satellites and orbital craft."

"However, when it comes to medical procedures, I will admit a level of... Anxiety..." The stone woman, even still with the best poker face carved of stone, looked to Doctor Dael. "I will at least do my best to make your work easier and not breathe during the procedure and be as still as the mountain face I was born from."

Asa quit buzzing around adapting equipment to Malana’s unique needs, realizing their excited energy would easily translate to nervousness in others. Mentally berating themselves for not maintaining the calm bedside demeanor they worked so hard to project when treating patient, they came to kneel and be on eye level with the stone faced woman.

Placing a reassuring hand over Malana’s, Asa said, “Hey, it’s going to be ok, I promise. I talk too much sometimes, please forgive me. The masons on Meroset did a great job, we are just putting the finishing touches on. I’ll be here the whole time. And please do breathe, I never expected you to hold your breath the whole time. The system is configured for normal chest movements, just not conducting a symphony. If it gets to be too much, just speak up. I don’t want you feeling distressed.”

Malana squeezed the Doctor's hand lightly. "Thank you, Asa. I'm just used to the slow, steady movements of my people and the fast paced life here with others in the Federation has been a bit of a stressful blur. If I were not so young and adventurous..." Even now, the face of the woman could not crack a smile, but there was a hint of one in her unblinking eyes as she considered her words with all the deliberate intent of a cliff face. "I would probably still be in the biology compound studying Federation databases and being lectured by those so old they couldn't move from their pulpits."

“Now that’s something I know a bit about,” Asa laughed gently, “My people live for age, but they do precious little living during those centuries. We are just two rebels, run away from the old folks, off to see the universe. Guess we just have to look out for another, right? We start when you are ready, not a moment before.”

"Indeed, it seems we are chips off the same stone. Please proceed at your own pace, Doctor. I'm ready when you are." Malana closed her eyes and lay there as still as bedrock - only the specialized medical sensors showing that she was indeed a life form and not a statue laying on the biobed.

Before standing up, Asa gave Malana’s hand a squeeze, and a reassuring pat to the shoulder. Then, while going to get the mediwire needed for the adhesive and sealant spray, Asa spoke softly, “Just going to get some supplies. Computer, please activate privacy curtain at biobed 4.

The holocurtain came down, effectively shielding others from seeing inside the medical treatment area surrounding Malana, but still allowing Doc to move back and forth unimpeded throughout the room. Getting used to walking through what appeared to be a wall had been one of the more surreal parts of Asa’s medical training. Growing up out in the middle of nowhere, the doctor was far more accustomed to low tech brick and mortar.

Mortar! Right, better get extra Mortar! the doctor thought.

“Ok, on my way back now. Feel free to let me know if anything feels wrong. Now I’m inserting a small piece of equipment to allow us to get where we need to start resealing. This may feel a bit strange, but I promise, it won’t be but a moment.”

Asa put the wire in quickly, checking on Malana and smiling periodically to let her know everything was ok. While the doctor did speak throughout, they maintained a calm tone of voice, and made the forcefield surrounding the biobed itself so as not to worry the stone woman with a sense of claustrophobia.

When the sealant began to be inserted, Malana’s vitals spiked slightly, but went back down when Dael told her that the cold feeling was completely normal and would pass shortly. For the next half hour, Doc Dael worked to move the probe wire as needed and seal areas inside the woman that would otherwise begin to crack further in time.

After the procedure was done, Dael sprayed a small amount of epoxy where the wire had been inserted, then said, “You did really great. You can talk now if you like, but I would like you to lie still for another 30 minutes or so just to let everything set up, ok?”

Malana opened her eyes and took in a breath of air so she could speak. She didn't exactly stop breathing... but she was breathing pretty slowly. "That was the weirdest feeling I've ever felt... But I can already tell I feel more whole. Thank you Doctor. While I'm laying here immobile, how have you been? Has your recovery been proceeding well?"

"It's my pleasure. My recovery is well, thank you for asking. The Doctor, our EMH that is, conducted surgery with the help of Counselor Jurot. The first few days were slow going, and I had a bit of a hiccup as some new ways of perceiving energy activated from deep in my genes, but I got through it. Still hungry all the dang time, but I think that will pass eventually. The hardest part is just adjusting to what I chose to do. Still beat myself up at times. How about you? Any bad memories bothering you?"

"As a pacifist, our actions on Meroset were regrettable, but in the end I see them as no different from the course that all life must take and necessary for the continued growth and evolution of all living things. I will live with those memories knowing that I was a small part of a greater wheel of life." Malana said those words with a peace and conviction that seemed to surprise even her. It was a part of her people's way of life and how they saw all other life and was almost inseparable from their ego.

"That is....a really good way to look at it really. I would welcome learning more about your people's philosophy. Tell me, what is your favorite part of your people? What do you think we can learn most from them?"

Malana finally blinked in surprise. It was a slow blink that made it look like time had slowed to a crawl, but a blink nonetheless."I must confess, as a biologist I have studied many species and answered that question many times over the years, but not for my own race. When it comes to the Ashravena we tend to take a very long term approach to everything since we don't often need to eat or sleep or even breathe like most life forms. There are a few researchers that study the passing of the seasons that stand in place for hundreds of years just watching as time passes around them before they make one notation. Indeed, if my people had not decided to reproduce more casually and spread out our research, we would likely still be patiently watching the evolution of species on our own planet and never invented the slowest warp drive in the Federation."

"It sounds like you have an interesting heritage," Dael responded, "My people were the same, once upon a time, I think. My mother mentioned that when we had a home world there was a core population that never left willingly. We spread into the stars very slowly, focusing more on our own society than the rest of the Universe. The Borg changed all that of course, and now we have nowhere to call home. Your people have seen the horrors that lurk in the shadows. I hope they have means to keep your world safe."

Realizing the conversation had taken a turn for the maudlin, Dael switched topics of conversation for the remaining time left for Malana to rest before returning to activity. "Gotta say, it would be handy to not need to sleep so often. What do you enjoy doing in the quiet hours onboard when most everyone is asleep?"

"I normally sit in the lounge or dining areas and read while observing the crew. As a biologist, I find the nocturnal activities fascinating. They differ greatly depending upon a great many things and I find myself wondering what causes a person to venture from the familiarity of their quarters in the middle of the night cycle to shed tears into a triple fudge sundae and stare out at the stars in ten forward, for instance."

Asa stifled a snort with limited success. "Well, I don't have any personal experience in the matter mind, but I'm given to understand that upset over romance tends to do that to people that experience romance. Honestly, I never needed an excuse for a triple fudge sundae, or to stare at the stars. But it's usually a more happy affair for me, not really crying during that. Ok, I'm curious now- do we have any sleepwalkers you have seen?"

Malana tilted her head slightly. "Crewman Daniels wanders the halls every night between 0100 and 0300 on the same deck as the mess hall. He checks inside every emergency locker in the inner corridor religiously, then goes back to bed. It is a strange behaviour that I do not understand."

"Impossible to say really," Asa responded, "Sleepwalking is just this weird thing some people do. If he brings it up to me, there are some options medically, but as long as he isn't being harmed, honestly? Sometimes best to just leave it alone. The treatment can be worse than the illness...just make him tired all the time. You would think it's something we could cure by now, but the mysteries of the brain are as dense as ever in some cases.

"I had this roomate in Starfleet Medical for one semester that would talk in her sleep and review her notes aloud that she took the day before. At first it was annoying, but then it just became an extra study session, so that was ok. She would randomly talk about bubbles and blueberries other nights. I think she just enjoyed the sound of the letter b.

"Oh, look at that!," Dael said, standing up, "This little light means you are all set up! Let me get the bed retracted for you, then you can do a lap around the room and see how it feels." That said, the doctor tucked all the add-on's from the biobed back into themselves, leaving a simple cot appearance with a display at the head. They offered a hand to Malana, hoping the stony woman wouldn't topple them in getting up.

Malana looked at the Doctor's hand for a moment before taking it. "Thank you for your help, Doctor." She then released the Doctor's hand and used both of her own hands to leverage herself up and off the biobed. Slowly twisting and moving in place, she experimented a bit, groaning a bit as she did so. She then walked over to the replicator and back in a much more normal manner. "Yes, I feel much better. I will likely be more fragile than most for some time because of this experience, but this is much better already. Thank you."

"I'm glad to hear it. Come back if anything feels off. Otherwise, check up in 2 weeks, sound good?"

"Sounds good to me," replied Malana.

The transfer of Hera to the Odin's Breath brig, if it could be called that, went very smoothly and soon the guests from the USS Hera found themselves in what appeared to be a longhouse with a large fireplace at one end and a long table already filled with a vast array of delectable foods and drinks. Scattered around the table stood a few pairs or trios of Valkyries chatting and drinking or eating. This was no dining hall, but a hall of feasting and merrymaking.

Thor turned to his guests and smiled that bright smile of his. "Welcome to the feasthall of the Odin's Breath. Please help yourself and join me by the fire where we may enjoy each other's company."

Enalia and the Baroness each grinned widely as they recognized the fireplace - there was an identical one in the Artan Orbital Fortress. To see an original one though... The baroness was silently fangirling hard and even Enalia had to admit that it was an experience.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Odinson," Enalia replied, bowing slightly, her right hand coming up to her diaphragm.

As for Rita Paris, eyes wide, she was taking it all in. The blending of science and aesthetic, the runic circuitry, the vaulted ceiling- in a starship, no less- were all impressive and exciting to her. Above all else, she had joined Starfleet to explore, to see what was out there in the great big universe. And every so often the universe delighted her by showing her something like this. She half expected to see an eight legged horse galloping on air above them at some point.

It was painfully evident that the curious commander was a tourist, who looked very much like the country mouse come to the big city.

To say that French was in awe was an understatement. From the moment Thor suggested having them for dinner French’s mind began to wander. She imagined the two of them having dinner alone. She imagined having Thor’s children. In fact there wasn’t anything imaginable that French did not see happening in her minds eye. But in reality, she had been quiet and staring at the Thunder God from the moment he walked into the same space she occupied. She was literally speechless. “Yeah, hungry. I could eat too.” French managed.

Enalia knew how things worked in an Asgardian dining hall - you grabbed a deep plate, filled it with food, grabbed a mug of whatever you wanted, and ate. In this case, they were expected to dine at the benches next to the fireplace with Thor himself so she led the way, grabbing a fresh plate, filling the deep dish with savory meats, cheeses, breads, fruits, and anything else she passed on the walk past the long table of food towards the massive kegs. Everything here you ate with your hands so she said a silent thanks that none of those present were averse to that, that she knew of. Grabbing a mug of ale, she finished the walk to the fireplace and plopped her plump rear down right next to Thor and took a long draft of her ale before digging into her meal.

Right behind her was Schwein, and though a bit distracted by the scenery, was able to grab a plate and fill it with ham, cheese, bread, and fruit as well. For her drink though, she went for the mead before joining the Captain and Thor by the fire.

French snapped out of her dazed state and grabbed a plate as well. She pushed past a couple people to get closer to Thor. She plopped down close enough for the slash of her drink to actually hit his person. "Uh, sorry bout that." And she laughed out loud. "I must be more careful." Then she raised her mug in his direction and took a drink. Where this boldness was coming from she did not know, but she liked it. If fact since she joined the Hera crew she had been timid. Something no one would have labelled her had they known her from before two years ago. But just now, something in her had changed. Like a switch had been flipped. As she downed half the mug of what she now knew was ale, and grabbed a piece of meat and tucked in.

While technically an omnivore, Paris tended to be herbivorous with her husband. But he wasn't here, and this was an Asgaardian feast. Calories be damned, she piled her plate with meats and cheeses, noting that she'd need to hit sickbay before bed. But as this promised to be epic, she anticipated amazing food. Looking around, she found a flagon of water and took it as her drink. It might have been not in the spirit of the hosting, but she didn't drink and mind meld.

Finding a seat opposite Thor where she would be able to take this all in, Paris was enchanted. It was pretty much exactly what you'd expect from the storybooks or vids- amazingly handsome Viking gods in space. Then she noticed French giggling and going in for another long chug of courage. Thor, if his legends were correct, was married to Sif. Who knew if that translated to anything with this version, but she wondered if French knew that? Looked like they were going to find out.

"Baroness von Alcott! Don't sit all the way over there, come sit with me so you can enjoy the view and we can tell jokes!" Rita called out, hoping this was acceptable viking etiquette. Really, she wanted the Baroness to have a good view, and she did want someone to make jokes with.

As Schwein moved to join Rita, the most battle scarred, heavily armed, and largest Valkyrie imaginable landed on the other side of the well endowed Commander, dwarfing the human woman. "Yes! We must eat, drink, tell great tales, and be merry this night!"

"Ah! Please allow me to introduce you to the strongest of our Valkyries, Hildr! She has slain more foes than even I!" Thor motioned to the newcomer with his mug before wrapping that arm around French and tearing into a turkey leg. "The tales she can tell are as legendary as mine own."

"Hoof," pairs muttered, looking up in no small degree of awe at the enormous valkyrie. "When I was eating my Wheaties as a kid to grow up big and strong, that's what I was talking about. Wow."

Turning to Schwein, Paris hissed. "Baroness! This is a war for the attentions of a god for the night. YOUR god."

While Rita might not understand all of the factors at play, it was pretty clear Sif was not in this picture, and she had an obligation to her friend. She suspected the Baroness was not terribly well schooled in the art of feminine charm, so it fell to Rita Paris to prepare her and guide her in this ancient game. That was moving along pretty quickly given where Thor's hand was right now.

"Are you going to let him carry Seregon French away to be the subject of his attentions, or will this be the night of Wagnerian opera that you remember in your years to come? No man can withstand you, but that is no man, that is an Asgaardian! Bone and muscle three times denser than human! They call him 'the mighty' Thor for a reason." Paris continued whispering, being as subtle as she could manage. "Now I ask you, mein freund, how are you going to win this battle in which you have yet to take the field, and bed a god this night?"

Schwein was still a bit stunned and while she did fancy the prospect, she shook her head. "Nein. just dining with him is enough. But I will try to awe him with my tales."

"So I just got back from slaying a Jörmungandr and that venom took out a few of us! It was at least three farlows long and teeth the size of my spear!" Hildr pantomimed a spear thrust with her food as she was eating.

"That sounds like a mighty battle indeed! These Midgardians have faced some mighty foes as well. Perhaps we can convince them to share tales of their mighty deeds." Thor waved that turkey leg around as he spoke before biting into it again.

"Nothing so fearsome as a Jörmungandr, but I've fought an Amazon in hand to hand combat and easily won with nothing but a blunt sword. I've also assaulted a mighty minotaur, tearing at it with a pair of short swords." Pantomiming a few sword swings with some of her own food, the Baroness got into the spirit of things herself. "I believe Seregon was instrumental in taking down the other one. They had attacked us in the dark and if she hadn't taken out the first one while I took out the second one, none of us would have made it out of that labyrinthe alive."

Hildr let loose a mighty laugh at the tale. "Ah yes! That is a fearsome foe for mortals! You are both lucky to be alive!"

"I'm inclined to agree with you." Said French leaning into Thor just a bit. "But your tales of battles are far more interesting." Replied French "But I want to hear of your conquests of Love. So tell me Thor. How good are you with battles of the heart? Does not my long Red Hair and toned physique not present itself as a challenge for you?" She said jokingly and as brazen as possible.

Thor finished his drink and set aside his mug as he pulled French closer. "Ah, no. It seems you have laid your womanly charms at my feet as a feast before me. There is no challenge in that. That is... Desert... And my appetites are mighty."

Thinking quickly, Schwein downed the rest of her mead for courage before speaking. "Then perhaps the Mighty appetite of Thor would be appeased with a double desert tonight?" Moving over to Thor's other side, she matched French's closeness to the Norse God of Thunder.

As Thor looked up in surprised delight, Hildr gave a knowing laugh and gave her knee a few slaps. She wasn't so naive to not know what was going on.

French smiled at her Star Fleet counter part with a look that said the two of them would take him apart piece by delicious piece. "Yes Thunder God, two deserts for the price of one, what say you?" Asked French as she nozzles her lips in toward his neck, making contact and giving his neck a delicate kiss. One thing was for sure, this night whatever the outcome would be remembered for a very long time.

The Baroness, for her part, appeared to be a bit confused as to how best to proceed as French began working her wiles on the god of thunder. Paris was frustrated by her inability to help- if she'd fitted the Baroness with an earpiece she could help her, but Cyrano wasn't the way to go. She had to learn how to fend for herself in this particular arena. And that's when it hit her. Snapping her fingers, Paris grinned with sufficient mischief to make the god if it himself notice, then she called out.

"I see that Seregon French is skilled in her wiles and her seductions. You represent the Hera well, Miss French." Paris raised her flagon in salute, then frowned slightly and eyed the combat medic on the sideline. "Baroness von Alcott! Lieutenant French has moved to necking...." Paris realized where the hands were in motion and added, slightly less vocally, "And groping I see... wow, that is... right. Baroness, you stand for the Captain! The Princesszin! You are her woman, you represent her in this battle for the attentions of a god. Show the mighty Thor what a kiss is from a Teutonic tornado of pent-up passion!"

If this doesn't work I think I'm gonna be a shoulder for a blubbery baroness tonight... Paris fretted, watching to see if she'd motivated the lonely supersoldier.

As Enalia looked back and forth a bit shocked, a slow grin spread across her face. "That's right! Seragon represents the Hera crew, but you have to represent the Artan crew! Show him what you've got!"

Thor was also a bit surprised as Schwein tossed caution to the wind, set aside her plate, stood before Thor and put one foot on the bench next to him, growled like a saber cat, grabbed the front of his armor with both hands, and physically lifted the GOD OF MOTHERFUCKIN THUNDER for a deep, passionate kiss that literally caused sparks to fly.

"Damn I'm good," Paris muttered as she sat back down. Elbowing Hilder in the hip, Paris beamed a bit. "Right? French, you're not gonna let that slide now, are ya? Make us proud!"

French quickly readjusted her situation and without warning mounted the Thunder God. She grabbed him by the back of his head and slowly but steadily pulled him forward. First her lips met with his right eye, which he closed of course as not to have it sucked from its socket, then she kissed his left eye. And then her lips met with his. Her tongue parted his lips and went wandering around inside Thors mouth. The effect was imediately noticeable and the space between where she was sitting astride him began to get warmer And warmer. As she slowly pulled away from him, she climbed off and stood before him. "Desert huh! You ain't never had desert like that. You can only get it on Earth!" And she leaned forward with her butt on the edge of the table looking deep into his eyes.

That's when Thor stood and took both French and the Baroness each in one arm and excused himself. "If you will excuse us, I believe we have some business to attend to. In the ah... Elsewhere... Regarding Midgardian delights."

As they left Hildr guffawed and slapped her knee knowing exactly what kind of delights they were attending to but as soon as Thor was out of the dining hall, she sobered quickly. "Thank you. Both of you and to your crewmates. This is the liveliest we have seen him in almost a hundred years since his wife, Sif, passed from this realm. Perhaps this will put a little more lightning in his step so that he may choose a queen and ascend to the throne."

Picking at her food a bit, Hildr muttered a bit more. "One may only hope, anyway..."

“Hildr?” Paris asked solicitously, her concern evident in her voice. “What’s that all about? You can’t leave the ignorant earth girl hanging there. Help me out a little?”

Hildr sighed and drained the rest of her mug before explaining. "Our people are not doing so well... Unlike our Ambrosian brethren, we are not as immortal as we would like to think and Odin is nearing the end of his life. This would not be a problem if Thor would choose a wife and take the throne, but after Sif... Many of us have offered ourselves to him, but he has declined us all. Even Loki has been trying to help find a suitable queen."

Trying to drink from her mug again, Hildr remembered that it was empty and set it aside in disappointment before continuing. "With this crisis comes the dying of our lands and people and the portents of the end of Asgard. This is why we have chosen to work with your Federation, in the hopes that we may find a way to prolong what we know is coming."

"Maybe what you need is an infusion of new blood..." Paris muttered, frowning and rubbing her chin. Idly she picked up a slice of cheese and meat, and took a bite, then stuffed them both into her mouth. Chewing rhapsodically, Rita Paris took a few seconds to truly savor some exquisite Valhalla meadhall fare. Then she grabbed a few more pieces and stuffed them into her mouth, then grabbed one more piece for the trip. Speaking with her mouth full, she held up a finger as she scooted over to the captain, grabbing her hand and tugging at her commanding officer's hand "Mmm bruhbk!"

"I knew Odin wasn't doing so well, but I didn't know things were so bad..." Enalia mused as Rita tugged on her hand. "Please talk with a bit less in your mouth at least, Rita."

Making a herculean effort, Rita Paris chewed the mass of food she'd stuffed in, pausing once again to close her eyes and moan a bit. A short pause in chewing led to a few seconds of contemplation, then she swallowed the entire mouthful smoothly in one go.

Waggling her eyebrows, Rita got serious again. "So if I understand the current political situation, as I understand it, the old godking is tired and his eye has grown old. But the prince won't step up, because he lost his queen, and without a strong woman by his side he won't assume the throne. Because he needs someone he can trust yet will still be of her own mind and challenge him. A warrior born. He has shopped the local selection but no familiar faces have caught his eye. But he literally just carried off our security chief and your bodyguard."

Glancing up at the very impressive valkyrie, whom she suspected maybe had a tiny pinch of giant in her, Rita chucked a thumb at the big woman. "Good thing we're among friends, because my tactics are terrible."

"Long and short, Captain, doesn't the Baroness kind of worship Thor? She's human if not from Earth and from what I gathered they were all about that sturm und drang stuff where she was born and raised. So this is really kind of the best night of her life- hopefully." Rita checked with the captain, because she was making a lot of assumptions here.

Enalia couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh yeah. I'm sure she'll compose the most lewd and X rated love ballad about it and sing it at the next pirate bash. Magnus and the rest of the royals have a bet going on that she'd break anyone she'd sleep with and that would prove that she didn't."

Hildr couldn't help but guffaw a bit as well. "That's good then because Thor himself is pretty mighty himself. The way she lifted him... She might be a match for him in the bedroom, if you catch my meaning." It wasn't too hard to catch the giant Valkyrie's meaning. "The other one though, she might need a bit of patching up but it'll still be a night to remember for her."

"That's kind of my point, Cap'n. The Baroness is lonely, terribly so. For all her strength and all the horrors she's seen, she pines for someone to love." The excited executive waved off in the direction their host and crew had departed. "And she just managed to get hauled off by what I assume is one of the physically mightiest beings in the universe. There were sparks in that kiss, ma'am. Literal sparks with the god of thunder. Hildr, back me up on this?

"This is true... Sparks are rare..." Hildr added.

Enalia leaned back a bit, thinking it over. "Yeah but what about lifespan differences? Schwein is expected to live maybe two hundred or two hundred fifty years at best as an augmented human whereas Thor has another what? Five thousand years in him?"

Hildr nodded solemnly. "We would have to overcome that somehow."

"Uhhh, his theoretical lifespan is a WHOLE lot shorter if we factor in, oh, what's that word..." Rita snapped her fingers "Right! Ragnarok, that's the one. Yeah, then that whole immortal thing matters a lot less. Hildr said they are seeing their twilight, and that's why they are working with the Federation- in the hopes that they may find a way to prolong what they know is coming. if Thor were energized and motivated, he might be able to save the Asgaardian people, possibly with our help."

"Maybe with a whole lot of help from the Baroness. She does love a good battle," Rita pointed out. From their time together, that was clear to the ancient astronaut. The woman replayed her greatest tragedy and did so good-naturedly just to see what variables may have changed the outcome in what way and study how the applied tactics succeeded. "A warrior born, as they say."

"This is true." Hildr thought on it a moment before nodding. "She would have to challenge Freya to be accepted, but I think if Thor's heart can be moved this night..."

"That is the part that's in the Baroness' hands... or, well, wherever the hammer swings, I guess," Rita boggled a bit at her own metaphor, then shook her head and pressed her point. "The point I'm driving at is that if this does turn out to be some star-crossed romance tonight, she'll walk away from it to follow you, Captain. Her heart could be charged and she might just have found where she truly belongs, but she would walk away from it all to follow you, and you know it. So if our friend captures the heart of a god tonight, and she feels the same, you might have a very difficult decision to make tomorrow morning."

"She has to find her own place and nothing I say or do should influence that decision." Enalia may say that, but as she ate, Enalia knew she would miss her friend if she decided her place was with Thor.

"The Baroness follows your orders, ma'am. Plain and simple, and further than anyone else in this universe, I suspect." Paris felt the shift in the captain's mood, and she knew she'd done her job and warned the captain of a hazard. Rita would miss the hell out of the merry pirate, but the pain of her absence would be greatly lessened if she knew the superhuman soldier were happy. Meanwhile, it was time to break the mood.

"Or I could be full of it and this might just be one epic booty call..."

"So that's the story," Commander Paris explained to the trio she'd gathered in Sickbay. "The crew are liable... well, likely to be dealing with actual factual mythological figures come to life and striding large across the universe. So with that said, she wants an action plan. And to that end, while you are both brilliant in your fields, I am assigning the Baroness to this particular think tank, because she understands the enlisted man, the regular crewman, in a way I'm not so sure you two do, and I certainly don't. Think of her as your greek chorus for the everyman."

"A Terran meeting a 'god' from their past could possibly be psychologically devastating. I would guess, not so much for an Andorian or Vulcan. How did you cope with it, Commander?" Avendar asked.

Unprepared to be put on the spot, the easygoing earthling took a moment to think it over. “Well, I started by hoping for the best in the face of the worst. Despite all the horrible things she had done, according to the legends, all of the gods were somewhat given to whimsy and mood swings. So I approached the situation imagining that there might be some spark of decency in there, and that maybe I could encourage that. Otherwise, I treated Hera like a foreign dignitary to whom I was under no obligation to be diplomatic, given the whole genocidal tyrant thing. I’d like to think maybe I made a difference with her, but who knows. She’s alive, and that’s more than Starfleet expected. Does that help at all? Don’t the Betazoids have god, Counselor?”

"We have four, actually," Avendar said "I've been trying to handle the enormity of the scope of our mission. Hera and Gaia were never worshiped on Betazed, at least not by those names. I've been meditating on the question 'what if I were to meet one of the Four?' You've now MET a 'god' of your planet. The theological ramifications of this are breathtaking."

The Baroness cleared her throat and spoke next, her germanic accent showing through just a bit. "Ja, as a mortal that has met messengers of the one she worships, Huginn and Muninn, I can confirm that it is indeed breathtaking. I still praise the day that my Lord Odin chose me to act as a messenger to deliver information to the Prinzessin."

“Does anyone else find it curious how we are meeting Terran gods?” Asa asked, carefully not putting emphasis on the g in gods, implying the lower case by tone alone.

“One would wonder if whatever force was summoning these beings back into our realm was focusing on gods from the home world of Starfleet by choice. Or if this being has a particular interest in Terrans?” they continued. “If Hera taught us anything, these beings are not necessarily what their press has made them out to be. They are complex individuals. From a higher realm, or more advanced in evolution yes, but just….beings. With desires, heartaches, joy, sadness, ambition, intelligence, and fallacies, like most other conscious life forms. I would urge everyone to keep that in mind, and not place them on a pedestal unduly.”

"What if they took the form of a currently worshipped deity?" The counselor asked.

“Okay, let’s refocus,” Paris saw this conversation was spinning its wheels in the mud and going nowhere. A philosophical discussion was going to be thoroughly unproductive to her mind. ”You are both asking a lot of hypothetical questions to which there are no real answers, and that is not the focus of this meeting of the minds. The idea is how to prepare the crew for dealing with these beings, not to get bogged down in hypotheticals. ‘What do you do when faced with god’ in whatever form is the question, be it yours or one you’ve never heard of. So perhaps we could apply ourselves to the psychological ramifications it could have on the crew and how best to counsel them to deal with that. As the Baroness pointed out, she’s met one she does revere. So we have some resource- let’s move forward constructively, shall we?”

“Right you are, “ Dael replied, “I posit that the psychological impact is likely to vary greatly on if the being representing a god venerated by the crew member. For a god not currently worshiped, it will be simpler to encourage the crew to view these beings as advanced life forms, such as the Q, thereby relating the experience to something known. Demystifying something is an important first step to dealing with it rationally. As for beings representing themselves as gods currently being worshiped…Baroness, how would you describe your first experience? That will give us a lot of great feedback.”

Schwein leaned back in her chair and thought about it for a moment before replying. "I knew that they were just more advanced. Not quite to the level of Organians, but maybe close and maybe a bit more in some ways. But even so. To actually meet a being like that and watch them transform from a pair of ravens into two little girls and for them to each speak a few words at a time and to almost know what I was thinking... When they handed me the scroll I was to deliver, it felt electric. It was a moment of pure emotional bliss when their feathers brushed against my fingers. Then in the next moment, they had transformed back and were flying away, straight through the ship's window."

"So, there you have the everyman's perspective on an encounter. Mine was... martial. Even after I captured her Hera and I always seemed to be at odds in some way. I hope I convinced her to turn things around, but... it was a mission, she was a powerful alien despot and we captured her, took a shot at rehabilitating her and turned her over to the authorities with a request for lenience. That's standard Starfleet operating procedure. Well, except handing her over to other gods, but no, a policing body of peers to the being- nope, still Starfleet S.O.P." The blonde in the red dress ran her fingers through her hair, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

"I'm not so sure I count as an 'everyman' in this respect," Paris rolled her eyes. "I've done this sort of thing a few times. But, keeping to my duty and following orders and sticking to the mission did see me through. Might there be something to that for the crew?"

"You're probably right. In most cases, the crew would react to them as they would typically react to an advanced being. That said, each one is individual. Unless they encounter a physical trauma in some way, or have their minds manipulated, encounters would not cause permanent psychological damage," Avendar said. "That's my dispassionate professional opinion."

The counselor shifted in her chair. "Having been on the receiving end of the power of one of these beings, my personal opinion is that the damage they inflict can be life changing."

“With respect, Counselor, I must disagree,” Doctor Dael interjected. “We have decades, if not centuries, of Terran research on a phenomenon known as Post Traumatic Stress Disorder- PTSD for short. I am sure you are familiar with this, but please allow me to elaborate for everyone in the room.”

As Asa spoke, they turned to make eye contact with each person there, making sure everyone felt included in the discussion, especially as the doctor suspected at least one occupant of the room was currently suffering from the affliction.

“PTSD can be acquired any number of ways. Yes, suffering physical harm is definitely one, as is overt mind tampering. However, we now know that when individuals are put in situations where they are forced to act against their own moral code, even if no imminent danger is posed to their person, they can develop PTSD. It can happen in an instant, or it can take years- any way about it, the damage is done.

Furthermore, physical trauma is not the only indicator of PTSD for combat. If a person feels they are about to die- even if there was no risk and it was a complex hallucination, or they misunderstood circumstances- PTSD is possible to develop. Fear is at the core of it, not the reason behind the fear. And every single person on this ship lives with great amounts of fear at times- it’s what we do.

While I agree, we have every reason to believe the crew will perform admirably and keep to the SOP in terms of what is expected of them, I will not discount the distinct possibility that as we continue to serve, the crew will suffer psychological consequence. If you look at the studies, it’s only a matter of time. Starfleet has not yet found a way to circumvent development of a trauma reaction- only found ways to insulate against them and mitigate their damage when formed.

From that perspective, regardless of if a so-called-deity we face is one the crew believes in or not, the outcome may well be the same. Either they are forced to act against their beliefs in taking on a being they worship, or they face extreme fear and peril from facing down a more evolved life form. So to me, that clarifies our course of action.

The first step is exposure therapy. We need to get the crew comfortable with the idea of what we are facing. They may have heard things through the grapevine about what went down on Meroset, and those kinds of stories tend to have legs and wings. And turn into some pretty tall tales. So, we tell them the unvarnished truth. I want a Holodek simulation of our combat and infiltration experiences mocked up and adapted to reflect the underlings and minions of different pantheons we have on record instead of only Hera’s Amazons and Minotaurs. I want security and away-team personnel to go through at least three of these simulations before deployment. The better they have an idea on what they are facing, the better they can plan their attacks, and the less likely they are to freeze on the spot. Also, I want to see who starts to crack under the pressure, and I want their away-team readiness re-evaluated by Counselor Jurot, myself, and their CO before deployment.

The second step insulation- We have to make clear to this crew that we care. That we want to know what they are going through, that it’s ok to experience fear, and that it’s ok to not know how to feel. The only way to truly recover from PTSD is to fully process the emotions that get ‘stuck’ during extreme periods. A way to stop PTSD from developing is by cultivating healthy emotional patterns ahead of time. I want workshops on dealing with fear, dealing with loss, and dealing with injury available to every single crew member. Counselor Jurot, I would request you lead these seminars after we agree upon the presentation. Commander Paris, do I have your support on this?"

"You do- make it happen, Doctor Dael," Paris offered, keeping it brief because it was clear the young physician was quite passionate on this subject, and this was what the commander had wanted to see out of this meeting.

The third step is recovery. People on the Hera are going to get PTSD. It’s going to happen. It probably already has. So, we make ourselves available. This crew needs to know that command wants to know what’s going on with them, and that we are going to help them heal. I know everyone in this room feels that way. I know you are all wanting to see this work out, and I’m so glad for that. I will write a dossier on spotting PTSD symptoms to disseminate to all senior staff. It needs to be the responsibility of the senior staff to watch for symptoms in others. If there is reason for concern, I would request a report be submitted to me to review and discuss with the counselor on our best next steps. Our first duty is to care for them. Or, at least, that’s my view point.”

After such a long speech, Doctor Dael slumped back in their seat slightly. It was uncharacteristic of them to be so firm, but this was not a topic they took lightly.

“So, to summarize- we plan to succeed. And then we plan to fix what we break. Holodeck simulations will stop the crew from being overawed, seminars to prepare on how to deal with emotions to provide tools for the mental battle, and oversight to ensure no one suffers alone. The only other factor I foresee is devotion to a deity causing someone to turn on us- but I have no reason to think that will happen here. This is a well-trained, well-disciplined crew, and we can help them find greatness. Sorry to hog the floor, but I feel- strongly- on this. Thoughts?” The Doctor, normally so small in stature, appeared to be about ten feet tall standing firm on their convictions.

The Chief Counselor smiled nodded toward the Doctor. "What they said," she said and laughed. "However, it's possible that one of these beings can possess a member of the crew, as my own experience has proven. So we must be alert for personality changes. From what I've seen from the records, Gaia was insufferably arrogant. Hera exhibits a similar arrogance. It's possible, but not certain, that this could be a common trait among these beings."

She turned toward Asa. "Doctor, according to the psychiatric evaluations I've seen, and the few I've conducted since coming aboard, almost every member of this crew has PTSD in one form or another, including myself. This information is not general knowledge. As you said, we'll have to check their combat readiness."

Avendar turned to Commander Paris. "How much time do we have until we reach the core?"

"Approximately four standard days at our current speed- not all the time in the world, but some. Also, keep in mind, Counselor, there is a difference between the 'gods' we are encountering, and their more powerful progenitors, the titans. Your experience was with a titan, and apparently that is an entirely different level of power than the gods of myth and antiquity that seem to be cropping up in New Texas at the moment. So let us not be alarmist and ascribe possibilities to the incorrect classifications of lifeforms," Paris cautioned, sounding a bit like her logical spouse. "For now, we need workable stratagems for the short term as well as long-term care plans."

"With that said, I was in every meeting that was held with Hera, and I'll be happy to submit myself to whatever tests you devise to insure that I'm the original model and not a co-opted puppet of a deranged galactic tyrant." While she said it half-jokingly, Paris was still quite serious. No one was exempt, and fomenting suspicion of potential possession could tear the crew apart and divide loyalties, which could prove disastrous.

"Understood- we will conduct brain scans on you Commander Paris, and I can ask for the computer to set up monitoring on crew patterns and alert me if anyone is going too far outside their normal behavior. It's a bit of an invasion of privacy though, so we need to be sure it's eyes only information. Myself, I have been scanned seven ways to Sunday and I am working with Lieutenant Sonak to ascertain any mental changes of my own."

"So, simulations should be the easiest thing to program. While the crew is completing those, we can plan the processing seminar. Who do you think would be best equipped to help us get the Holodeck sims up and running?" Asa inquired

"I'm... always passively scanning the emotions of those around me," Avendar said. "It's something I can't 'turn off.' Hopefully I could quietly spot any major personality shifts."

"Ok, that's good to know," the doctor replied, "That will come in handy during the seminars especially. If you sense panic or extreme remorse from someone attending. Those would both by signs that the individual needs further combat readiness testing."

"Commander Paris, can you please recommend someone to help liaise with us to get the Holodeck up and running within a day for desensitization drills?" Asa inquired.

"Lieutenant Commander sh'Zoarhi woud be the logical choice to help set up the holodeck simulations, Doc- she has a few things on her plate, but she also has a rather large department, and I'm certain she has an expert or two on hand if she isn't wanting to be 'hands on' about it," Paris replied, refocusing on the counselor. "Miss Jurot, you say you passively scan the emotions around you- how is your recovery coming along, since it has come up?"

"Thank you for asking, Commander. After finally sleeping, my empathic abilities are slowly returning. I've been doing some mental exercises, but my other abilities are still not working."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're sleeping- I can imagine that would help. I'll admit I was worried about you, but you know what you would tell a patient, so I assume I don't have to tell you to hunt down a doctor, or someone, to get some help. Are you seeing a counselor yourself? Healer heal thyself and such? And do we have a medical plan to help foster the Counselor's recovery, Doctor?"

"I saw the doctor for a sedative after visiting Hera," Avendar said. "And I've been in touch with my counselor on Betazed." She smiled. "As the old saying goes: 'counselors are the worst patients.'"

The big blue eyes narrowed a touch and a perfunctorily polite smile settled on Paris' face. Slowly she turned to regard the chief medical officer. "Doctor? Am I to understand that you have had a woman literally waking up to a life that isn't hers after fourteen months- awakened, I might add, by having her extrasensory abilities blown out like an overloaded fuse. You gave her a sedative, sent her to quarters and never followed up on her. No medical recovery program for any possible synaptic damage? No diet and medication workups to assist her recovery? No counseling arrangement?"

Throughout the diatribe, Rita Paris never raised her voice. She did not shout, she did not say harsh words. Instead, she was honest, which meant that there was no way that she could hide the disappointment in every word. When she was finished, the left eyebrow of the executive began to slowly creep upward in an unasked yet clearly anticipated response.

Asa looked abashed, realizing their utter failing in thinking the counselor would come to them with any difficulties.

"Yes ma'am. I apologize to you both, this was an oversight on my part, and one I will do my best to remedy. I am sorry, Counselor. I have done you a disservice. When we are finished here, are you available for a medical work up? You and I have both been through the wringer. Perhaps we can work to heal one another?"

The words were soft. Life had been going at such a hectic pace lately that Asa had simply dropped the ball. With any luck there would still be time to rectify their error.

“I look forward to this. On the same topic,” Paris turned to regard the battered Betazoid. “You yourself knew that you needed all of these things, yet you waited until now to bring it up, Counselor? You are a mental health professional, you knew that you treatment was clearly indicated, yet you never reached out to the medical team to remind them of your plight? I understand that you have been through a lot, and I have considerable sympathy for your plight. Miss Jurot. But you are also a grown woman, an expert counselor and a Starfleet officer, and you should know how to voice your needs if they are not being met. Your office is in Sickbay, so I am reasonably certain that you know the way.”

"Mia culpa," the Betazoid said. "My apologies to you both. I thought that they were too busy to worry about me."

That elicited a sigh from the chronally challenged commander. "Ensing Jurot... Avendar," Paris added, hoping the unconventional familiarity might help convey her sincerity. "You're one of us, part of the same crew. We're a city inspace, and everyone has their jobs, and we support one another and work wonders. We're all important to one another. You don't leave a shipmate behind, and you don't forget about them, and you don't assume they won't come back for you because they're too busy."

"We're Starfleet. We're in this together. So I have to apologize as well, because I didn't follow up either, and it's clear that I should have. So we've all screwed up. Everyone's taken responsibility. Now as I recall, the healthy thing to do is to move forward in a positive direction... right?" Paris looked around, those bright blue eyes searching the faces of her shipmates.

Nodding, Asa replied, “Absolutely. We can all learn and grow together. If you are available after this meeting, Counselor, we can do a thorough once over and you and begin writing seminar curriculum.”

"I'm available when you are, Doctor," Avendar said.

"Then that's my cue to leave you two alone to get started," Paris declared as she rose from her seat. Moving to the door, she paused to half-turn back to regard both of them. "I expect daily progress reports from both of you in regard to this, because the next time a situation like this comes up with a crew member, both of you will most definitely know better, from personal experience. So if it happens again, heads will roll. meanwhile, I expect I won't have to chase down the actrion plans for the crew, because you will have them on my desk by end of Beta shift today."

There were no questions but statements of fact, and the first officer left it hanging in the air for both parties to consider moving forward. Clearly she expected action and results, and Commander Paris expected them rather immediately of both of them.

To be... better.

The PaDD slid through the door like one of her meals, which was going to be the core of her confinement here, apparently. But they'd not given Hera much to do, so she assumed this might be some confusing court documents or whatever passed for the judicial process of the Asgardians. However since it was a Federation PaDD, it piqued her curiosity.

Tabbing it open, it required a genetic match. Letting the device scan her thumb, the instrument unlocked.

=^= Identity confirmed: Hera. You have 1 new message =^= the mechanical voice of the device droned.

"Yes, please play the message," Hera ordered the device, which promptly complied. There onscreen was the face of one Rita Paris.

"Hello Hera! If you are going to do time in prison, I figure it helps if you get letters from the outside, too. And it's not fair to put the responsibility on you to be better, I should help you. Because it isn't that hard for me, it doesn't take much of my time, and I feel a bit responsible for you. If you do anything awful it's my fault, but if you turn out to be a great person, then I helped bring that to pass. And that would feel pretty good, I think. So I am morally obligated to help you rehabilitate."

"To that end, I will write to you. I made a deal with one of the Valyrikor, a really lovely woman, and she'll allow my messages to be received and delivered to you. So when I can, I'll drop you a line and tell you about my life, because asking about yours isn't going to be very exciting for either of us. So."

There was a paused, and Paris looked bashful, but she owned up. "I... we talked. Last night, Sonak and I, we talked about children and maybe taking a shore posting and a five year mission plan and... and he helped me pick out baby names, and..." Tears filled Paris' eyes as she struggled to keep her voice from warbling.

"We never... we never planned for a future together. Maybe someday when our old five year mission was over, but we'd never talked about it. But here... we've been through so much, and to know that he came so far for me... I don't believe anything can tear us apart. We're gonna do it. I don't know if I'll still be sending you prison letters, but he and I, we're going to build a future together. A nauseatingly domestic soccer mom band mom basketball volleyball swim team Starfleet mom. And I'm gonna start in my forties, which is still really young these days..."

Looking off camera, Rita refocused on the camera again, those big blue eyes excited by the possibilities of the future. "You did that. You knew why I came to see you, and you told me. No tricks, no riddles, no supplication or offering needed, just out of you knowing I so very much wanted to ask, you told me anyway. We talked, he and I. We planned. And I'm helping the Captain and her holographic wife have kids, apparently. But the point is, if you had not done that, none of this might have come to pass. We picked out three names, male and female, and if they decide to go in another direction they can inform us. But... good names."

"I believed in you, just a little. And you validated that belief. You did something selfless for Doc, and you did something selfless for me. You're already doing better at making the universe a better place, Hera."

"You can do it. I really do believe in you, at least as far as that goes," Paris smiled, knowing that it was risky to give power to the gods. But she honestly did believe the ancient goddess could change, and live up to the nobility of her legend.

"To help you rehabilitate, I asked the computer to give me the 100 greatest love story videos in human history, because at least I have seen some of these and can vouch for them. They're all on this PaDD, along with those mythological films from last time, because I know you didn't watch them, but now you are reallly bored. I threw in the complete works of Shakespeare, because he came along after you, but I think you'll really enjoy his work. I threw in a copy written in Klingon as well, if you want to take that in. I can't read Klingonese, so I will have to take your word for it whether it is better like they say."

"Which is all I can think of for now. It should stave off boredom, and... hopefully it might make it just a little better in there for you, knowing that somebody out here still cares about you and still writes. Bye for now, Hera." Paris wave at the screen then it cut out to the Starfleet insignia.

As Hera finished watching the message, she knew instantly that what she had been told and the books she had been reading were right. There really was a better way. She had gotten a slight surge of energy from Rita’s letter. Not from worship or fear or love… but from sacrifice. Hera had done something good in the galaxy and made a difference for someone, at no benefit to herself. In fact, she had allowed herself to pay a heavy toll for it. This was similar to the Asgardian way of service- a good way to live, and it may be true that Apollo had found this way as well, in his own time.

Checking the PaDD for anything else, she found it had been wiped of any other material other than the letter, if there really had been anything. It seemed she was meant to only get what the Asgardians thought she needed for reading material, then.

Leaning back on the fainting couch, she reminisced about her time aboard the ship with her name. She had enjoyed her time there and come to like the people much more than she had expected. Her quarters now were only slightly smaller and barely as comfortable – a nicety they afforded her due to her station, but they would soon grow confining as she would likely spend several hundred years in them before her trial was concluded. That was if Asgard even lasted that long, according to rumors. Perhaps if she could learn this method of energy collection through sacrifice, she could earn her jailer's trust and become a productive member of some society some day…

For now though, she had a letter to compose. Straightening her hair a bit and splashing some water on her face from her pitcher, she composed herself before trying to figure out how to record a message on the device.

“Ah… Is this it? There we go… I don’t know if I’ll be able to get this reply to you so I’ll make it short.” Hera smiled bravely for a moment, trying to compose herself. “I want to thank you. You showed me a path that… well… We never considered. We always gathered our life energy through fear, love, worship… But now through you, I know there’s a better way. The Asgardians have allowed me some reading materials and from what I’ve found, they get their energy from selflessness, the same manner in which you showed me. It’s a much leaner energy, so no more feats and miracles like I used to do. But I think that they can stay with the old vengeful me. In the past.”

“As for your plans for the future, it’s great to hear that you’re planning now. You have plenty of time for family, but the future isn’t set in stone, you know. I just know you’re destined to have three kids and two will be twins. As for your captain, I saw a single girl in her future, but a lot of complications. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say too much.”

Taking a deep breath, Hera continued. “Anyway, I just wanted to thank you and let you know that I’m doing well. There’s no set dates for anything and I don’t even have a representative assigned to me yet. I’m told that might not happen for a score of years with how backed up the system is so who knows how long this will take. Please take good care of yourself.”

With that, Hera clicked the record function off, and set it as a reply to the original sender so only Rita could read it. She then slipped it back under the door from whence it came, hoping that it would somehow find its way back to its owner.

After a full day of hemming and hawing, Melanie Dox had decided. She was on her way to the ships hair stylist for a haircut.

Or, maybe not. she thought, as she walked right past the doors of the office, not even slowing down. There HAS to be a better solution to this. Dox debated as she continued plowing down the corridor at a military walking pace that would make Rita Paris proud.

The problem Melanie was debating had to do with the U.S.S. HERA's upcoming mission. A dangerous flight into a turbulent region of space where she would be working with a largely untested flight helmet with technology that would increase her ability to navigate space exponentially. The helmet was an experimental piece of technology developed by Ensign Mona Gonadie and Dox had been working with it for almost two days now and had a problem. She had all but solved the interface issues that were causing nausea and headaches thanks to the intervention of Doctor Dael's nanobots not taking up residence in Melanie's inner ears. But the damned helmet didn't quite FIT.

It was a large and unwieldy rig with cables out the back that got tangled in her thick, curly auburn locks. And when her hair was UP, it was simply impossible to get that thing over her head properly. Something had to give as she simply didn't have time to redesign the helmet, as their mission was in a couple of days.

So again, for what felt like the thousandth time that day, Melanie had decided... the hair had to be cut down. And thanks to the circuitous path of starship decks, she found herself in front of that door again. This time, she took a deep breath and stepped in.

"Hello? I'm Lieutenant Dox. I... I have an appointment?" Dox spoke into the mid-sized room with a few chairs and workstations for the stylists along the wall.

The girl in the chair spun around, popping a piece of gum. In her hands she held a magazine, while she herself was clad in a pair of light comfortable sneakers, with some very brief gym short, a bronze bandeau top and a jersey-sleeve dove grey hoodie. But the striking thing about her was that head to toe, much of which was on display, her right side was black and her left side was white, cutting a perfect line down the center of her body.

Hopping lithely out of the chair, she stepped forward and extended her hand. "Hi! Welcome to the Goddess salon. I'm Sharonne, I'm the ship's stylist. Let's get you over in the chair and talk about what you want to do today, okay?" With that, she took a few steps, then turned the chair toward Dox with a smile, whipping the black cape off of it to reveal a modern take on the old red leather barber chair.

"Uh... Okay." Dox paused for a moment, taking in the stylist and pondering how virtually every corner of this ship seemed to offer something or someone unexpectedly interesting. She stepped over to the chair to sit down. "I guess... I mean, I just need to trim all of this down. It's getting in the way." gesturing with her hand, Dox made a swiping motion across the side of her head at ear level. "So... Um... I guess I need it much... Ya' know... shorter."

Okay, let's talk about that," the bisected barber whipped the inky black cape out in front of Dox dramatically, then settled it around the neck of the nervous pilot even as the cape settled over her seated form. Pulling out a comb, the hardresser began tugging at Dox's locks.

"So do you have your dad's hair or your mom's hair or are you a throwback and nobody knows where you got it from?" Sharonne asked as she worked to start combing out the frizz.

"Uh... Ahh." Dox stuttered as she tried to process the answer while her head was tugged around a bit. " I guess... A bit of both. My... My father's color and curls. My mother's thickness."

"Uh huh. So did your mom know what to do with your hair?" The stylist was asking questions as she worked to get a comb through the ginger curls and frizz.

Squirming slightly at the mention of her mother, Melaine paused. "Yeah... No. Not really, no. My mother's... Well. She's Romulan. So, basically the one hairstyle. My father's from Earth. Scottish descent. She never knew how to manage my hair."

"Thaaaat explains it. Okay, so your mother never had to use conditioner or any hair care products. She just washed it with soap and it was fine. Uh, so I'm guessing you still use soap on your hair? I'm not judging!" The stylist picked Dox's head up to look into the mirror opposite them. Looking into the mirror, the stylist behind her could talk to her face, which was something of a novel experience for the ace pilot. "Hi there! There we go, just talk to the mirror, now you've got the idea."

"Well, no. I don't just use the same soap I wash with, or anything. I have regular shampoo." Dox replied. "Just... Standard issue is all." She was beginning to feel slightly embarrassed.

"So yeah, I know, it sounds like I am totally beating you up and judging you but uh uh, I'm just figuring out your hair. See, that's what we start by combing it out. Of course it'll do better if I wet it down, but I need to see what it does, you know? So do you use a brush or a comb to style it up in the bun, or just hands and ponytail holder?" The stylish stylist was still working as she talked, often making quick eye contact via the mirror and reading her client's reactions.

"Uh... I have a brush. I try to brush it out when it gets all tangled, but then it gets frizzy." The perplexed pilot replied. She was used to putting in only the most perfunctory efforts into her hair and was feeling overwhelmed by Sharonne's questions. "I don't want to spend an hour fussing with it. I just want it... I need it out of the way but still nice, I guess."

"Okay, I gotcha. So you don't know how to braid it I'm guessing? Right, okay. So, I'm gonna be straight with you- you haven't cut this in a while and there are a lot of split ends that have to go But that's good, because that will give you back a LOT of manageability. So, there's this thing called conditioner... see, shampoo is soap that's very gentle because it's for hair, not your body. I know, I'm a terrible person to suggest maintenance, but- Mighty Aphrodite, show her what her hair would look like just shampooed, conditioned and air dried without the split ends."

The computer chirruped, the first familiar sound in all of that, and over Melanie's actual hair a glossy coat of ginger waves appeared, that appeared to be soft and yielding. It was much longer than it was now, but maybe another 20mm or so. "And that's after a cut. Go ahead, you can touch it."

Pulling her hand out from under the cape, Melanie felt the holographic representation of her hair as it was projected. "Wow, that is nice." She looked in the mirror toward the stylist. "And this is just shampoo and conditioner?" She chuckled slightly with a twinge of nervousness in her voice. "I have clearly never used the right kinds."

"That's okay! See, that's why I asked all that stuff about your mom. Girls usually learn their makeup and hair care from their mom. Your mom had that straight, silky Romulan hair. See, the sebum just flows off her scalp and her hair transmits it easily, so she never gets oily hair or tangles or dry hair. You got daddy's hair, and curls down't transmit that sebum so well. That's why the hair close to your scalp feels soft, but the ends tend to be kinda crunchy no matter what you do. Amirite?" As she spoke, Sharonne was still combing out Dox's less that cooperative hair. She was holding sections of it in her hands as she worked the comb through them so that she wasn't pulling on the ginger girl's scalp.

Still, Melanie felt a bit guilty about the extra work she was giving the skilled stylist. "Sorry about it being an even worse mess then normal. I came here right after the end of my shift and I had to take my hair up and down all day because of this flight helmet thing that I'm testing and..." The generally introverted pilot suddenly became aware she was going on. "Sorry. I don't mean to ramble."

"Nah nah nah, pffft," The hairdresser to the stars dismissed. "Girl, this is my job. And you... whew. Sweety, you could use my help. Because I know what's goin on with yo hair, girl. And I'ma fix it, and you gonna look fierce. So you ain't puttin me out none, I got you. I ain't even gonna wait, watch this." Stepping forward, from under the ultraviolet blue antiseptic station she pulled a pair of simple metal shears. "Short, cute, uses the curls, easy to fix and comfortable in a helmet? I got it?"

Something about the matter of fact tone used helped Melaine relax a little. While the style was different from her own as a pilot, she could recognize that vibe that someone who knew their job had in the moment. Something that was called 'the zone', once upon a time.

Seeing that focus put her a bit more at ease, although the anticipation still had her stomach a little tight. "Yeah, that sounds pretty much exactly what I'm hoping for, thanks."

"Okay. Now don't freak out, I'ma just cut some of this dead frizzy stuff off. This ain't your haircut, I just don't need it around for this part, so I'ma cut it off first. You trust me?" The stylist took a step forward and leaned in so Melanie could actually see her face to face, and she smiled with teeth that were clean and straight but by no means perfect. She could benefit from orthodontia.

"Sounds like... clearing the path of debris before going to warp. Makes your scissors kind of like the deflector dish." Melaine smiled, feeling like she might be following along with what Sharonne was saying, even if her analogy didn't make any sense. "Unless I'm misunderstanding, but regardless, yeah... yeah, I trust you. Thanks."

"I think so, yeah, cuz that made sense to me, so yeah, clearing the debris. That's good, I'm gonna use that!" the stylist drew the hair up with the comb, held it between her fingers, and swiftly worked her way around the head, taking about 4 inches off. Her hands moves smoothly and confidently- it was clear that she was very comfortable with what she was doing, and even though she was just hacking off the dead ends, she was still measuring the large sections she was cutting. When she was done, she blew the shears and the comb off, then slid them back into the UV sterilizer.

Spinning Melanie Dox around, Sharonne pointed to the hair on the floor. "See? Not much, and it's all fluffy and crunchy. Now, let;s get you all ready for a good haircut. I'ma show you what I got in mind, then we'll talk about it. Right now, I'ma lay you back, get you all sudsed up." The stylish stylist kept talking as she lowered the back of the chair, settling her client into a reclining position. Sliding a towel under her neck, the bipolar beautician turned on the water.

"I'ma work over your hair and your scalp, so you just lay back and enjoy the massage. You like peppermint?" Grabbing a few bottles from the cabinets next to the mirror, she squired some into her ebony black hand, which emphasized the jade pearlescence of the product. "Take a sniff?"

Pulling her head up slightly to smell, Dox's expression went slightly wide as she took in the aroma. "Hmm. Yeah, that's nice."

"Groovy! Okay, this is some of my favorite stuff, because it moisturizes all hair great, it smells good and it tingles! So get ready..." The water started running and the hairdresser looked up. Yo, Mighty Aphrodite! Gimme a beat... ahhh, Bach, Cello Suite No. 1 in G major," the cosmic cosmetologist called, and suddenly deep strings filled the area, not too loudly, but enough to be heard along with the running water, which added a white noise underlay to the experience. Expertly maneuvering the water hose of warm water across Melanie's scalp and hair, , when it was soaked, she set the hose to run in the sink to grab the shampoo and squeeze a generous dollop into the palm of her chalk white hand. rubbing her hands together, she them began working it into Dox's hair and scalp.

The hairwashing handmaiden was, as she had mentioned, delivering a scalp massage, and it was far better than it had been advertised. Using only the pads of her fingers, Sharonne started by working the shampoo through, then she basically scratched every inch of the ginger girl's scalp. removing any dead or dry skin, while working in the lightly tingling minty sensation of the shampoo.

Letting out a slightly cartoonish moan, Dox had a doofy smile on her face as the skilled stylist massaged her scalp. And while the music was vaguely familiar to her it only served to help her relax that much more. "Oooh... Khnai'ra." She muttered in Romulan, still smiling broadly.

The hair washing went on for a moment, then it was time to rinse the warm water washing away the tingly minty shampoo. When it was all clear, Sharonne got another, smaller dollop of shampoo, worked it between her hands then went back to worl. "Once for the scalp, once for the hair. Let's get it allll scrubbed clean before we go work some magic."

The second shampoo went on for a bit, some light scalp massage following the first initial invigorating scrub. When the spray returned and again washed away the shampoo, the dichotomous dilettante tapped Melanie on the shoulder to get her attention. "This stuff. The Dive Curl? This gonna change your life, girl." Squirting a rather large amount of the pearlescent green goo that looked a lot like the last stuff but had a very neutral scent into her chalk-white hand, Sharonne began working it into Dox's hair and scalp, and now as they settled in for the next few minutes, the real scalp massage of long, slow, hypnotic movements really played out.

To which Melanie Dox actually nodded off. The recurring nausea and headaches caused by the flight control helmet she had been running simulations on for two days straight were taking their toll and the relaxation caused by Sharonne's scalp massage was beyond what she needed at the moment.

What felt to her like an instant later, she snorted herself awake again with a slight jolt. "Oh my gosh! Did I just? I am SOOO sorry!"

Beside her, Sharonne was sitting in the other barber chair with her magazine. The classical music was still playing at a low soothing level and the water was still running in a slow trickle in the bowl behind her. "Girl, you okay. You been out for like 45 minutes. Girl, I put you OUT. S'cool though, I booked you two hours cuz I knew we needed time. So you good! Would you like a bottle of water?" The lithe young woman slipped out of her chair to put a cool bottle of water into Dox's hand. "Rub yo eyes, yawn and stretch. You needed that, looked like."

Feeling extremely embarrassed, Melanie's face turned a deep tan as she blushed. "Forty... oh my goodness, I am so sorry!" Dox took a sip of the water realizing that her mouth was extremely dry. "I can't believe I did that." She chuckled slightly. "I can say that the headache I've been nursing for two days is gone, though. So thanks for that." She said, smiling awkwardly.

"Just washing some folks hair puts them to sleep. I gave you the deep down. Check it out, your hair, because of the curl? Keeps the sebum close, so it leaves you with oily hair and dry scalp, while starving the rest of the hair. So I gave you the deep conditioning treatment, and you went out. You didn't come to when I rinsed ya, so just letcha go. I woulda woke you in another half hour so we'd have time. You professional types, you wound tight. Client like that, you take some time. You like this look?"

Flipping the magazine around, it displayed a sharply angular bob, with quite a bit of length on top.

Rubbing the sleep out of her eye as her focus returned, Dox squinted at the image for a moment until waking up enough to process it. "Hmm... That's nice..." But her tone was one of indecision as she wasn't quite sure. "I don't know, though."

But there was another picture, half visible under Sharonne's hand that caught the groggy pilot's attention. Her eyes opened fully as she tilted her head slightly with a smile. "Hey, what do you think about that one?" Dox gestured at the half covered image. "Would something like that work with my hair?"

The jet-black hand whipped the magazine around, then she turned the magazine around to point at a cute tomboy pixie with enough length to work with her curls, with a weight line to it for feathering, and healthy bangs. "Easy cut, low maintenance and will look super cute on you."

Hopping out of the chair, the mellow hairdresser pressed the button on the side of the chair, slowly levering Doc back to an upright position. "Yo, Might Aphrodite, gimme some upbeat montage music."

There was a blur. There were snippets- dancing, singing, a cascade of images set to song. And when the song came to a conclusion, Sharonne whirled away the cape, and Melanie Dox had a haircut.

Melanie Dox looked cute.

"I... I... " Melanie was at a loss for words as the results for a moment, but the massive smile across her chubby cheeks spoke volumes until she could form a proper response. "This is just.. I love this, Sharonne!"

"Okay, so. Your flight helmet should totally come on and off easy with all this, and nothing sticking out. Little length on top so you have some flexibility. The bangs are super cute, you were born for these babies, they fit the shape of your face and eveything. Oh, and check it out. You Might Aphrodite, show our girl her cut in a level 1." In the mirror, Melanie Dox's hair turned jet black, and with her bangs coming together in a minor yet recognizable 'devil lock' center point bangs.

Seeing the image the projected hairstyle that was aggressively Romulan, Melaine shot a bit more straight in her chair as she winced a little with a quirky half-smile. "Oooh... Yikes, I really DO look like my mother. "

She turned to look at the successful stylist and chucked nervously. "This is... A little weird. Heh."

"Oh yeah, sorry. Cancel the color, Mighty Aphrodite. But as good as you sell that look, check it out," With her natural hair color restored, Dox once again looked- stylishly human. "I'm sorry, I shoulda asked before I sprung that on you. But a little coal dust and you sell that look, chica. Just sayin."

"It's okay. Just took me by surprise, is all." Melaine replied, looking at her restored hair color and smiling. " I guess I could, though."

"Okay. This one," Sharonne handed Dox a 10ml container in dark green. "Shampoo. Moisturizing and invigorating. Wash your hair first thing in the shower. Just once is fine- I'm the only one needs to do it twice. Size of your thumbnail, all you need. Take some time and feel it out, aight? And conditioner," the bisected beauty handed over a white and green bottle three times the size. "Like the size of your thumb. Once the shampoo is clear, work this through your hair. Finish your shower, rinse your hair out last. You can leave it it in all day if you want. You could slick it back like a helmet and that stuff would stay. But rinse at the end of your shower and your hair will love, honor and obey you."

Paying attention with all the focus of a mission briefing, Melanie nodded as Sharonne spoke, taking mental notes of the procedure. "Got it." She replied, assuredly but still smiling.

"That's it, Mel. No styling product, cuz with this cut you don't need it. Run your fingers through it and pull your bangs forward and you are ready for action- what you wanted, right?" The black and white barber smiled, demonstrating by running her fingers through the side of the red curls, which all lay down to make feathered waves on the side of the precision pilot's head. "Hah?"

Chucking slightly, Melanie replied. "Somehow I'm sure I'll mess that up and be back for pointers." She smiled broadly at Sharonne. "But thank you very much! This is perfect! I really love it."

"That's why they keep me aboard," The cheerful cosmetologist replied. "You get a big date or you wanna learn some makeup or skin care come on down, you now where to find me. Til then, go get you something to eat and show off your new do in 10-Forward, girl. Time for folks to see the new you!" As she spoke, Sharonne Washington was usher Dox to the door, then she called out. "Mighty Aphrodite, give her some walk away theme music!"

Heading towards the door, Melanie laughed as the peppy music started. "Thanks again. Hopefully I'll see you around the ship before my next follow up."

"Not if I see you first," the stylist called as she disappeared back into her little corner of the mighty starship once more.

In spite of her initial anxiety, Melanie was extremely happy with the end result. While she was officially off duty and was thinking of heading to Ten-Forward to relax as it was just a little way back down the corridor. But she also knew that she wanted to get some more practice time in working with the flight helmet in preparation for their upcoming mission.

However, a little food sounded like a good idea, and she did want to show off a little.

"Hmm... Okay. Dinner and then back to it." She said to herself with a smile as she turned back around to Ten-Forward.

With only a day or so until the U.S.S. HERA arrived at it's next mission at the galactic core, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melaine Dox was beyond exhausted. For the last few days she had been working day and night on the implementation of a specialized flight control helmet that would enhance her ability to fly the massive starship inside the chaotic and unexplored regions of space that were ahead of them.

It had been in intense few days met with headaches, medical intervention and a haircut that, while needed for the mission so the aforementiomed helmet would actually fit, she was surprisingly happy with.

It was just after 19 hundred hours and Melanie had finally returned to her quarters. The headaches and nausea were now considerably more manageable thanks to Chief Medical Officer Asa Dael's ministrations that included nanobots inserted in Melanie's inner ears and a wrist band to administer pain and blood pressure control when she's wearing the flight control rig. Entering her still extremely sparcely decorated quarters, she place the band on her nightstand and began removing her uniform.

She tossed the new, red tunic top over the top of the training dummy in the corner and looked at the few personal affects that she had begun decorating her new crew quarters with. She had put in a small corner shelving unit in a corner. Small shelves designed to hold pictures and small tchotchkes that currently held three medium sized photos in simple frames.

The first was the photo that the ships First Officer, Rita Paris had taken of the senior staff at a lunchon about a week and a half ago. The crew was rapidly becoming very much like a family to the young pilot and she treasured the picture. The second was a photo of her mother, Jaeih, taken from the most recent correspondence message sent a couple of weeks ago. The third and final image was the only photo taken during Melanie's childhood, when she had grown up on a smuggling ship. In the frame was a much younger Jaeih Dox and a 9 year old Melanie.

Running her fingers through her freshly shorn hair, she couldn't help but notice that, while her intention was to just find a haircut that would be shorter and out of her way, ended up remarkably close to the classic Romulan haircut she wore until she was fifteen, clearly visible in the photo.

On the small table in the center of the room was her personal data PaDD, and a small red light was blinking. Melaine tilted her head quizically at it as she picked up the small PaDD. Touching the screen, she noticed that it was a message from her mother.

Normally, she received new messages once every month or two so she was surprised and a litle concerned that this message came only a couple of weeks since her last correspondence. She sat in the chair at the table and called up the message. She tapped on the message notification as a security screen popped up. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Melaine Dox. Play message."

After a few moments of technical procedure, the pace of which was only increasing Melanie's anxiety, the image of her mother appeared on the screen. She was smiling broadly and not looking off camera as she usually was, at the Starfleet security officer that generally stood behind her monitoring the recording of the message. As a former smuggler and defected Romulan former engineer, Jaeih Dox was still in protective custody of Starfleet and her messages were monitored for secret messages, a policy that irritated Melanie's mother to no end.

But she didn't seem annoyed at all, here. She seemed positively happy, which was a expression that Melanie found slighlty unusual on her normally stern mother. "Jolan'tru, Melanie. I know that it's not been long since our last messages, but considering the content of your last correspondence, I simply had to message you."

Relaxing slightly, Melanie sat back in the chair, relieved that nothing appeared to be wrong.

"I was tremendously happy to get you last message. To hear that you've not only achieved a post on a STARSHIP but also as it's Chief Flight Control officer is beyond gratifying. I told you that one day Starfleet would have no choice but to recognize your talents." Melaine smiled, slighlty embarrassed by the compliment even in a recorded message.

"Anyway, as you may have noticed, I do not have a chaperone watching me record these messages for you anymore. Apparently, these past few years of my... consulting... with Starfleet regarding my knowledge of Romulan cloaking technology has finally earned me some degree of trust at last." Jaeih's face twisted slightly into a smirk remarkably close to Melanie's own familiar expression.

"I had a very... productive conversation with the Admiral in charge of my... situation... and it appears that should circumstances continue to improve I may even be able to see you in person the next time you return to Earth." Jaeih's expression shifted slightly, looking a bit sad. "I miss seeing you and I'm exceedingly proud of your accomplishments. For all I know, your recent advancements may be a factor in my increased privileges."

For years, Melanie and her mother's relationship had been strained and distant, but this restored sense of what could best be descrived as
warmth felt wonderful and Melaine found herself tearing up as the message continued.

"Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon. I know that due to security you can't mention the specifics of your new ship, but I'm glad you seem to be happy there and I hope you stay safe and I look forward to hearing from you. Jolan'tru, my daughter."

As the message ended, Melanie was wiping a tear from her eye and smiling. She didn't quite know how to process the chance that things may me on the mend between her and her mother. But the idea was enough to hit her hard.

Then a know in Melanie's stomach began to tighten as she remembered the many fights the two have had over the years. And she remembered something that she had spent years trying to not think about: why Jaeih was incarcerated at all.

Leaning back in her chair, Melanie looked out the window of her crew quarters into the expance of space and her mind drifted back. It was years ago and a fourteen year old Melanie Dox was living with her mother and estranged father on the smuggling ship, the Forrager, cloaked and hiding in Federation space having just done business with a group of pirates. They were hiding from a Starfleet patrol ship investigating the pirate base they had just left when Melanie, as the very young pilot of the Forrager pulled away at full impulse.

But within moments, the Starship had turned around to pursue the Forrager. Her parents couldn't understand how, but somehow the ship had been detected while cloaked, and after a brief chase, they had been captured. What followed was days of questions and concerned Starfleet officers and Melaine being sent to Earth to live with her Father's parents and her parents being arrested.

Getting up to pace around her quarters as she found herself lost in memories, Melanie felt like she was going to cry again. But not because of happiness this time. But because no matter how hard she tried, she could forget the reality of what had happened. Of what she told her liberators in Starfleet but had never told Jaeih.

That it was her fault. That she felt so trapped in the life her mother had birthed her into that she did the only thing she could think to do to escape it and be free.

It was Melanie that had sabotaged the cloaking device.

Looking back at the PaDD on the table, Melanie openly cried. It was her fault that her mother was in protective custody. It was her fault that her father was in prison. And hearing a restored sense of love in her mother's voice opened up a floodgate of guilt in the young officer.

Maybe in the morning, she would be able to record a response. But for tonight, she just wanted to think of almost anything else in the universe, as she cried herself to sleep.

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 the Artan fortress at least.

As the assembled officers turned back to where the commander was sitting on the edge of the table in the conference room, Rita Paris spread her hands wide. "That's what we've got. So between that worldship and the situation that's developing in New Texas, the captain wants a threat analysis from the security team. There's a somewhat fragmented report from the Commodore, some colonist reports and I've assigned Miss Malana for scientific analysis of the data to help you out. Any questions?"

French was still in awe of the world ship they had just saw. "Any questions. I'd say about a million. But not to worry, I'll get stuck in and come up with something." Said French "Malana, if you can give me all you got, I'll come up with a tactical plan for the CO's approval!" Offered French.

The curious commander cocked her head. "I was thinking perhaps we'd do that now, while we're all here, put our heads together. Good call, chief. Miss Malana, you've had a little bit of time to go over the data- what briefing can you offer our security and tactical teams?"

“Cool with me.” Retorted French “What you got?” She asked

Malana had been looking over the data on a PaDD and looked up from it to glance between the two before looking back down and confirming the data. "As a biologist, I would say that these are likely energy beings posing as the real... What are they sometimes called again? Ambrosians? Whatever these pantheonic gods call themselves, if they are real, they've been pulled from wherever they go to die. What they call the Aether."

"I believe the real threat will be the source of their return and the energy summoning them though, whatever it may be, which is undoubtedly inside of that worldship, for lack of a better term. The scans that made it out show no known weapons, but the visual data shows that it is definitely armed with some sort of cannon-like energy weaponry, judging by the configuration."

"The occupants are unknown, but the interior has green plantlife and blue water, which suggests an oxygen-nitrogen based atmosphere at least. Estimated population based on window sizes... They're probably a little taller than our average... Population estimate of no more than three million or the ecosystem would collapse. I'm guessing that a rather large percentage of that is livestock though. Maybe eighty percent. Actual military personnel maybe five percent of life forms..." Looking up, she came to her conclusion. "I recommend negotiation, but keeping crowd control and anti-god options readily available."

"Excellent, Miss Malana, thank you for your analysis. So, while we're working on negotiating and keeping peace, your teams will be charged with fending off intruders and dealing with the fact that this is likely not a unified body with genuine discipline, and a lot more like very powerful children. Think Trelane, the Squire of Gothos from back in my day. You can look it up," Paris waved offhandedly, as she was using the mission to illustrate her point. "But we need to have non-lethal options in place to be able to deal with these beings, hopefully without some goddess coming and declaring war on the sentient races of the galaxy because a nervous security officer nailed her god of mischief son with a 'god round' from a TRC-116C and now his immortal head is a bloody smear on the bulkhead."

"So, non-lethal engagement and containment options?" Paris concluded, defining the parameters for sec/tac ops.

"Don't you worry, security will be ready for anything. And we will not jump the gun and go all medieval on these folk, without damn good reason. Negotiations it is." Said French.

"Lovely. So what are your options for non-lethal and containment options, Miss French? Assurances are very nice, but they aren't actionable. I'd like an actual answer to my question- specifically, what do you plan to use against these beings for non-lethal options?" The commander's tone was reasonably patient and her sense of humor was still there, but it seemed she wanted some specifics.

"That will take me a few hours to work out. Before you can formulate a Specific plan, you need to know the strengths and weaknesses of the enemy. So any realtime info you can give me on their capabilities would be helpful. Then I can inform the security department on how we want to handle them as a group or on an individual bases. I'm afraid that's the best I can do on short notice. I can't give specifics on a target that I don't know. But the techniques we will use are well known throughout the department because they learned them is Star Fleet Security training." Replied French.

"Mmmm, that's true. Well, we know what we know from legend, we know what we know from the scans of Hera. And we know that they use power sources as well as belief in them which they can channel for a great number of effects." Paris stood, and began pacing as she ticked off a few points. "We know that we have an alloy that apparently disrupts their energies, which can carve through one of them like they can carve through us. We know that we have at least a dozen god sightings in New Texas, maybe more. We know we don't know how they are being summoned nor why. We know that there may be an exotic energy wave nearby that is a gateway to a spatial distortion or something. We know we're better off trying to keep the peace than go on a killing spree."

"Since you were in on the initial briefing on the gods, fought their minions in the mined under Hera's temple and just saw the footage for this mission briefing, so you do have some facts to work with." Paris smiled at French, then quirked an eyebrow and looked around. "Where's your partner in crimefighting, by the way? I would have presumed Lieutenant Sexton would want to participate in the briefing as well? I even put him on the meeting invitation."

The awkward silence that ensued did not inspire confidence. "Action plan on my desk by close of shift, Miss French." Taking in the assembled personnel, the Commander made it clear to all involved she meant them. "Dismissed- let's get to work, folks."

2 Hours Later:

French was pissed being put on the spot like that. As she paced the room Alex arrived. "Man you look pissed off. But no wonder, I heard about the briefing. So have you come up with a tactical plan as of yet?" He asked.

"Sometimes she gets right under my last nerve. Of course I have a plan, I had one then, I just was not ready to present it until I did some more research." She said looking at the floor.

"Ok, let's go over it." Said Alex

She walked behind her desk and tapped her pad. "First things first, the security of our senior officers. The main away team will be escorted by red shirts. I'll have teams two and three ready to beam in from the shuttle should we encounter serious opposition. Team two will attack the power based with the special weapons and high explosives. And team three will aid us in our bid to get the hell out of there should all go wrong. This is a diplomatic negotiation, but it could go horribly wrong and if it does we need to be ready. I want transporter locks on key personnel. You will see to it that this part of the plan is adhered to. If you think this is sufficient I'll send it to the XO." Replied French

"It's crude, but it will work for now. If the perameters change, we change the plan. I'd send it. No body is perfect. At best she'll accept it and at worst reject it. But we've done your job either way. Make sure you include that you are open to suggestion!" Said Alex

Seregon finished the plan and sent it to the XO and the CO. Now they would wait.

For eternities, I wandered from planet to planet, molding myself to the natives I find. I assisted them with my power; cultivated them. All I asked was their worship.

Unlike so many of my kind, I am still worshipped on many worlds. To them, I am the everlasting light of day- that giver of life.

Yet, I am troubled. My spirit is vexed. I cannot show weakness among my kind, or to my worshippers... but there may be a way to solve my problem.

The winds of Qxyydl brought news of one of the later pretenders being defeated by one of my previous species. This "Starfleet" even had a being who served as a reliquary for one of progenitors- a means of evaluation and intelligence. The pretender removed it from this being. Yet I am intrigued, and I haven't been intrigued in ages. Perhaps this "Starfleet" could quietly provide even a little spark of intuition that even I have not considered.

I have found them. They are bound for Ymixxxyl, in the Center. First, isolate the being. Now, to reveal myself.

"Chief Counselor Avendar Jurot, I have need of...". She does not comprehend. My appearance is hurting her. She is mortal. I will adapt.

The Being shades its eyes from my power with its left arm, while touching its left breast- female- with her right hand. "Security! Counselors quarters!"

She speaks Galactic standard. "Your device will not work, Chief Counselor Avendar Jurot. Nor can any sense my presence, not even your Captain. I would speak with you without interruption. You stand before the Sunrise of Life; of He who is the Bringer of Light; the Eternal; Ra the Fire of Existence!"

My Power reduced, she now looks at me. Her hair is the color of old fire- she is a fine example of the female humanoid form, yet not human. Of course- a human could not endure Gaia.

"Great Ra, I am humbled by your presence," she says.

"I see your kind knows a bit of courtesy, mortal. I shall allow you to address me without honorifics, as time, as you know it, is short."

"Why are you here, Great one?"

"I seek... a neutral opinion, Counselor. As your soul withstood a fragment of a Titan, I thought maybe some of her ancient wisdom may have disseminated into you."

The mortal looks slightly confused. Interesting- her perception extends beyond her mortal senses. "Gaia left me scarred, Great one. However, I will help if it's within my power, and within Starfleet regulations."

I will reduce to her size, and create a throne worthy of me. And with a thought, it is done, and I sit upon my Golden seat.

Know, mortal, that my power, while nowhere near what it was, is still fresh and vital. I am still worshipped on countless worlds. My kind are older than this reality, yet we are, in a way, symbiotes. As I helped my worshippers using fractions of my power, their worship gave me much more power in return. So was formed the symbiosis. As it was, so shall it ever be. Do you understand?

The mortal nods.

My ancient enemy was Apep, whose chaos took the form of a serpent. As its form was chaos incarnate, I attempted several aspects in my quest to end the Chaos, and restore the balance. I struck a bargain with one of my daughters called Bast in this reality, where her sphere is protection and feline life forms. She allowed me to independently use a Feline form in exchange for a boon to be granted later.

"I assume she still exists. Have you ever repaid her?"

"Yes, she exists, but in a much reduced aspect. She is still worshipped on a small handful of worlds, including one in your Federation: Cait."

The mortal nods again. "So you're still more powerful than her, as you have more worshippers?"

"Yes. You are correct." Impressive. She is more intuitive than I gave her credit for being.

"One of the species who worship her were eliminated by a race of mechanisms who call themselves 'Borg.'

Interesting. She stiffened at the mention of that word.

"I see they are no stranger to you, mortal."

"Great Ra, they killed my Iz... mate. And, if you would so honor me, please call me Avendar. As you have come to me seeking my thoughts, it would ease my emotions."

Monogamous pairing. How quaint. "I shall, Avendar. As her worshipers were reduced, so was her power. She now wished me to grant her the boon I promised her so long ago.

"She seeks power from you, her father."

"Yes, Avendar. Your insight serves you well. However, as my daughter Isis stole much of my power at a time of my weakness, I have none to spare."

"Can't you ask Isis to give some power to Bast?"

"No. She squandered her power. She never understood the symbiosis. She thought the way to acquire power was to take it from others, like her husband Osiris, whom she slew, sending him to rule the underworld. Through time, she has slaughtered more of her kin, until the survivors shunned her. Her power waned to almost nothing, as Isis never cultivated other beings to worship her. She now dwells in Ymixxxyl: the Center, where your ship is bound.

"So Bast wants your power, but you can't spare it. I assume you are honor bound to grant her request, as she completed her part of the bargain?"

Correct. All of my kind, from the mightiest to the lowest, must always complete... you would call them 'promises.' Without that, the symbiosis fails, and we vanish. Some of my kind may twist the meaning of their words, but they always fulfill their promises."

"What about Love? The love a father for his daughter? Isn't Love a power? Could it be that the power she seeks is your Love- her father's love?"

I consider this for a moment. "It is in a way, as you understand it. It is also a conduit. As I love my worshippers, and they love me, so the symbiosis is consummated."

The Counselor sits. "So you must deliver power to Bast or vanish. Yet, you have none to spare. Is it possible to give her a group of worshippers of yours?"

"The only way to do that would be the Gthawwqaz- the merging. We would have to become one.

"And you are still more powerful than Bast."

"Yes."

The Counselor sits for a moment. I feel her thoughts racing. "If you were to merge with her, she would retain her followers, and gain yours. Would she still be Bast? Would you still be Ra?"

"No, we would become a new order of being- a merger. As I am her father, and I am more powerful, my essence would dominate. She would never agree to that."

"But it would fulfill your promise."

"Yes. As she would acquire my power and I hers, it would still..."

Of course! The answer is as clear as pure light! The conduit and...

I stand, and my throne dissipates. "My course of action is clear."

"And that is?" She stands as well.

"You would not comprehend, Avendar. However, your insight has helped me. Some of Gaia's wisdom has indeed filtered into you.

"Thank you Great one. I am warmed by your praise."

"As you have assisted me, you must now ask me for a Boon. But before you say it, I ask your assistance in one more matter."

"If it is within my power, and not against Federation regulations, I will help."

I create a small golden disc, inscribed with my symbols, approximately half the size of the mortal's head, with the thickness of her finger. I place it on her table.

"That disc contains a tiny fragment of my power. Bast will sense it when you penetrate the membrane of Ymixxxyl. She will come to seek it in one of her forms. However, she may not touch it, as its power is tainted. She will not sense that until she is very close to it. As it is proof against her, and only her, power, she cannot harm your crewmates or your vessel. She will be forced to bargain for it. When she angers, I will come, and she shall receive her payment.

I create a second disc, identical to the first, but the size of a thumbnail, and place it next to the other. "I grant you this, a second sliver of my power. Give it to your captain. At a time of her choosing she need only hold the disc, and say my name, and your weapons will have that power, which is enough to slay any being of my kind, save a Titan. They will not detect it, as the other disc masks its presence. I grant this power in payment, for your vessel holding the larger disc.

I look into the soul of this humanoid... this... Betazoid. What would you ask of me, Counselor Avendar Jurot? Shall I grant you immortality? Beauty? Power?

The Betazoid's soul answered where her voice could not.

"It shall be done. I will conduct the soul of your mate in splendor to the presence of your Four Gods, where he will wait for you at their side until the day you are reunited. Such is the word of Ra!"

I begin to depart, then stop for a moment. "When I return for Bast, you will not see me, Avendar. Nor can any detect that I was here. But know- you and your Federation have gained an ally in Ra!

So I depart to find the soul of Avendar's mate, and fulfill my promise. My golden barque awaits. As does the lure for a feline.

Another long starship day aboard the USS Hera had brought them one day closer to the mission and confrontation with gods and Texans and who knew what within a spatial distortion that was likely a gateway to another dimension. Which was pretty much business as usual for the mighty startship.

As the day was winding down as 22:00 hours approached, Commander Rita Paris was considering calling it a day and heading for her quarters, when a report was filed- progress report for the experimental imaging processor that Ensign Gonadie had devised that Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox was killing herself to try to master, because she felt the weight of responsibility for the starship Hera and all of the lives aboard her if she screwed up this particular mission. Reading through the report, Paris sighed and shook her head.

You gave her reign on this one so she's going to drive herself too hard, deprive herself of sleep and obsess over it because she doesn't want to let you down, the Captain down, the crew down, the ship down... so she's going to burn herself out until she does just that. Can't tell her to relax about it because that'll be counter-productive. Can't tell her it'll be fine because you don't know. Can't inflict a curfew on her or you are treating her like a child. If she wants to overwork herself, that's her right, just like it was yours when you were in her shoes.

Thinking back, Rita briefly wondered if she had been that nervous and insecure at that stage of her career. Fortunately, a bit of her Vulcan husband's brilliant psyche which possessed total recall lived within her mind, and was quite willing to show her a number of images in quick montage of Rita as seen from the outside as the junior officer in constant need of approval and reinforcement and emotional succor. Oh, right. I made Dox look like she has it together.

What she had learned in the intervening years was perhaps how better to deal with the stress, especially the kind that was almost exclusively self-generated. And in this case, she had an idea. Tapping at her ever-present PaDD, she located LTJG Dox on, unsurprisingly, flight control. Time to go be a sentimental old lady... well, more sentimental than normal...

Strolling casually into the flight control office on Deck 4, the Hera's first officer seemed surprised to see anyone there. "Oh... sorry Lieutenant. I was just coming to poke around and take in the view and be maudlin for a moment. I didn't expect anyone to still be here at this hour."

That part was at least partially true- she had not expected to find Dox there, she'd only been alerted by late-night report updates.

At the desk, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox was leaning on her hands as she reviewed a graph of performance stats from the last few days. The entrance of Rita Paris snapped her out of the focus she was partly trapped in and she jolted up straight, slightly startled, but not overtly so. "Oh, Commander Paris. Pardon me. Uh, yes. I was reviewing some data from today's sim tests."

"Nothing to be pardoned, it's your office, Lieutenant," Paris said distractedly as she walked slowly toward the flight deck, looking decidedly distant, her eyes unfocused and her hands on her rounded hips. "Your duty rosters are all filed, and your paperwork's in order. Having Gonadie check your work to learn from your mistakes without them showing?"

"Absolutely. She's been invaluable in the process. Obviously, as she literally wrote the book on this technology." Dox patted the top of the experimental flight control helmet on her desk, still hardwired into the computer interface of the office.

"I know it's all in my reports, but I really think we're all making some positive headway. With Doctor Dael's help, we've been able to significantly reduced the nausea and headaches to a manageable level and it's increased simulation success rates to..." Dox leaned over to look at the readout on her screen to confirm what she was fairly sure she remembered. "93 percent."

In spite of the anxiety that Dox still had churning in her stomach, she was actually quite pleased with how things were progressing.

As for Rita, she stared out at the flight deck listening to the progress report on a subject she hadn't brought up. Dox's focus was getting a bit myopic- had to get her to think about something else other than the rat maze of the obsession at hand. "Good, good. What was the name of that ship you grew up on? I'm not sure if you told me and I forgot or you never actually mentioned the name?"

With a change of subject that felt to Melanie like turning off the warp core while at Warp 9, her brain locked up for a full second and a half. "Uh..." her face scrunched slightly as the topic brought up more than it's share of mixed emotions and she ran a finger across the top of her right ear as she processed the question.

While it felt like an eternity to Dox, the pause was no longer than another second. "It... It was called the Forrager. I don't think the name ever came up, actually."

"Well, then I feel better about not knowing the name," Paris spared the young officer a glance and a grin before returning to her reverie of the flight deck. "D'ya ever miss it... the sounds, the smells, the constant background thrum of the engines and the feel of the vibratory patterns in the deckplates? I've never served on a small trading ship but that's what I imagine it's like?"

The initial anxiety of the change of subject for Dox let itself go quickly with the casual tone Rita Paris was presenting. Sitting back in her seat, Melanie Dox's mind drifted back to her often turbulent childhood. But thanks to the specific questions, she found herself reminiscing on the positive for a change.

"Sometimes, yeah. It shook at warp like it was falling apart and the engine knocked like crazy, but sometimes I do kinda miss it." She smiled slightly at the First Officer and ran her fingers through her recently cut and much shorter hair. "It was really the background noise of... My life. Sometimes it's absence gets... Loud."

"My little brother Albert..." Paris responded, her voice a bit distant as she recalled a bit herself. "Almost all of my earliest memories have him caterwauling in the background or in my face. He was such a fussy, unhappy baby all the time, and when Mama passed away I was the new babysitter. So for me it was his wailing and blubbering and poopy diapers. It was like he lived to make me change his diapers, and he stayed in diapers until he was five years old. No kidding."

"Wow... That's something I can say I'm glad hasn't come up in my life so far." Dox let out a slightly nervous laugh at the thought. "Not that I know the smells on the Forrager we're much better. Especially when our cargo was livestock."

"I can imagine!" Paris laughed at that, briefly wondering what alien livestock might be like these days. "Okay, weirdest cargo you ever hauled?"

"Weirdest? Hmm..." Melanie was now much more relaxed and no longer thinking of her work at all. She smiled figuring that this was probably Rita Paris' intention as she was aware that she was putting in intense hours. But in the moment, she was just enjoying the conversation and the opportunity to reminice on the positive side of her childhood for a change.

"It's hard to say. I guess, maybe..." Then a memory popped to the front of her mind and she laughed out loud. "Ha! Okay... Weirdest. I just remembered. So, we were running cargo between Romulus and Ferenginar. We swapped ten crates of Romulan Ale for what we told were top secret Ferengi power cells." She had begun gesturing with her hands as she talked.

"Then, three days out of Ferengi space and we hit a patch of gravimetric turbulence and the whole cargo bay was shook up hard. After which, the boxes started MOANING! like a little sound loop of nasal moaning. My Mother opens up a crate worrying that we were tricked Into carrying actual... People of something."

At which point Dox put her hands together as if holding a very thick sword. "Weird, big Ferengi... dildos of some kind. Like, translucent Amber rubbery... Wands with handles in the shape of there ears at the top that actually made moaning sounds and glowed when you grabbed the ears." She snickered loudly at the memory.

"Well, to it's credit, it does sound memorable at least!" Paris laughed along, filing away to look up what a Ferengi was later. "So it's my understanding that on ships such as the Forrager, they tend to have repetitive maintenance quirks. What was the most common repair you remember as a kid?"

The topic leaping felt somewhat random, but Melanie was now relaxed enough to just go with it without having the think too much about it. "I'd say the biggest problem that kept breaking was the environmental power system. We had to bundle up a lot because the internal heating tended to cut out when power was rerouted to the warp drive. No matter how many times we fixed it, it just kept breaking down."

Thinking about it, Melanie's expression went slightly wistful at the thought. "Until my last day there, the heat kicked off at warp."

"Ever been interrogated, Dox?" Paris asked casually, still focused on the flight deck, one hand coming up to touch the transparent aluminum aft wall of the office. "They usually call it a 'debriefing' these days, because we're much more civilized. But it's an interrogation all the same... just being pelted with questions, digging around seemingly at random as if looking for something but it isn't clear what it is they want to know?"

Instantly, Dox's heart sank into her stomach. She had let her guard down completely and was suddenly beginning to feel stupid for doing so. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she replied. "Yes. Yes, I have."

"Then you ought to recognize when your first officer is doing it to you. I've been asking you one question after the other, and you've been answering. It's not a conversation, because you aren't asking any questions, just me. Seven so far." Turning to regard the chief flight control officer, Paris leaned against the transparent aluminum wall. "You're exhausted, Dox. Mentally if not physically. I could have just led you down the primrose path here and kept you going, wrapped it all up at 20 questions and then let you wander off feeling unburdened, but frankly I respect you a little more than that. If I got this far without you wondering what's up and saying so, that tells me you aren't firing on all thrusters."

"So why do you suspect that may be, Miss Dox?" Throughout it all, the tone of the commander's voice was still calm, low and private. Though they were the only ones here, still, the ancient astronaut's demeanor was easygoing and her tone almost soothing. It should be clear to Dox that she wasn't in trouble- but then, she wasn't, as observed, at her best at the moment.

Sighing as she began catching up with the point, Dox replied. "Because I'm still here. Still working when I probably should have packed it in for the evening and tried to get some rest so I'm not exhausted and strung out." She didn't phrase it like a question, but more a statement that she already knew was true.

"Your hard work and diligence are appreciated, Miss Dox. And I know that you feel a great degree of responsibility what with the lives of everyone aboard seemingly riding upon your shoulders." Stepping away from the transparent bulkhead, Rita Paris took a slow step in the direction of her subordinate. "Because it definitely feels that way, and you are working night and day trying to validate that trust, running as fast as you can to stay ahead of the possibility of failure, because failure is not an option. How'm I doing?"

Feeling extremely embarrassed that she was once again led on what felt like a long walk around the ship to get back to where she had started, Dox was second guessing herself as much as her first day on the Hera. But she answered directly and honestly, feeling extremely humbled once again. "That sounds... Very much on point, Commander."

Her tone was tired and somewhat defeated sounding. Dox could fly a starship like she was born to do so, but when it came to interacting with her First Officer, she was proving to always be ten steps behind and she was beginning to internally curse herself for feeling like an idiot again. Which, when she thought about it only served to reinforce Rita Paris' point about how exhausted she was.

Stepping over, Paris dropped to one knee next to the seated lieutenant junior grade. Parking one arm over her knee, Paris looked up at Melanie Dox. "It's a team effort, Lieutenant. Everyone will do their part, and so will you. If we didn't have the utmost faith in you, then you wouldn't be on that bridge. You will do your best, and hopefully as we all do the same, that will be enough. At least we already know it can be done, right?"

"Point being, hyperfocus can actually be detrimental, especially for a pilot, so... it's my job to watch out for these things and offer you course corrections. You are doing nothing wrong, bear in mind- I'm just meddling because I am your superior officer. And maybe it is kind of mean for me to come at these lessons as I do, walking you around to the point." Paris cocked her head back a bit as she looked up at Dox. "It seems gentler to prove the point before making it with you, somehow."

Emotionally, Melanie was drained and she knew that it was because Paris was right. But it felt at least a little better to hear Rita explain her reasoning. It was a reminder that the First Officer had her Junior Lieutenant's best interests in mind.

She flumped back in her chair a bit and ran her hand through her hair as she sighed. With a slightly awkward smile, she replied. "You're right. I know. I think... I think I'm more scared of screwing up on the bridge than I am of the... space gods out there." Whatever part of Dox's mind that worried about military protocol had already gone to bed and she was just expressing how she felt.

It wasn't overly emotional or anxious, it was just honest and Dox felt like being anything less than completely honest served no purpose in this moment. "Fvadt..." She muttered slightly, not even thinking twice about slipping into Romulan for the moment. "I'll... try and remember this all and be better. Which, I suppose means not always worrying about actively TRYING to be better." Chuckling slightly at the somewhat paradoxical idea.

"Exactly. Look, there will be a time and a place to overwork yourself and drive the problem to the ground. And I know when that moment comes you will rise to it. But part of the job is knowing the difference between when that moment has come, or you are just in a little too deep and driving yourself a little too hard. Guilty," Paris stood, took a stretch toward the overhead, and tugged her uniform down again then settled her skirted behind against the desk. "At the moment, I am supposed to be making something for dinner, which at this rate is definitely going to be replicated if not produced by Sonak, which, see, that might go well for me after all."

"Point being, I am not there. I am down on Deck 4 lecturing one of my promising junior officers because I am a den mother and that's always how I've worked with the crews. So while I am delivering the lecture on hyperfocus and overworking I am in point of fact hypocritically overworking myself as I do so. The difference," Paris stood and offered one of those million watt smiles. "Is that this is important, so it's a duty I should be tending to right in this moment. So, fully justified minor overworking."

"You'll find the balance and get the hang of it, you just have to be aware of it. And of course the dangers of hyperfocus." Paris half-turned away, then turned back. "If you feel that I'm critical of you, Miss Dox, it's because I see so much in you, and... I want to help you find it. I do hope you understand that."

For her part, Dox was getting over her initial and emotional reaction to see what Rita Paris was trying to do, and she understood its importance. "I think I do, Commander." Then, with a slightly nervous chuckle, she added. "Definitely something worth sleeping on."

"Precisely so," Rita agreed, then realizing she wasn't exactly sounding like herself. "C'mom Melanie. Put your bucket down, get some sleep and in the morning you can start back in on it. Or you could arrange a competition among the shuttle pilots for some extra liberty for a morale boosting performance incentive. Or organize a 5K on the flight deck to make sure everybody passes their physical qualifying tests that are coming up again soon, and show them the chief will be out there running with the best of them. You get the idea," Paris offered with a smile, which was warm and genuine- the smile of an encouraging big sister who supported and understood.

"All good ideas..." Melanie said as she shut down her computer and stood up. "...that I will think more about in the morning for sure." She smiled as she stretched slightly.

"Atta girl. You are doing a good job, Chief. Thanks for taking the minor course correction in stride. This technology might just be revolutionary in Starfleet, so you might be working with it for quite some time, or you might get sick of it and hand it over to the R&D boys. But that's all tomorrow. For tonight, how about you get a hot shower and a little unwinding time in, eh?" Pris grinned at the junior officer, eyebrows wiggling. "And I have to say, I love the new 'do. So many girls get their identity and femininity tied up in their hair, and a short cut can be just as feminine and cute. You made a great choice, I really like it!"

While many women might take the moment for false flattery only to expect to be mocked her behind their back, Rita Paris had earned her reputation for honesty on the USS Hera. Besides, she herself maintained a short but stylish haircut, thus clearly she practiced what she preached, in this as in apparently all things.

Having momentarily forgotten, Melanie turned her eyes up towards her head before remembering. "Huh... Oh, yeah. Thanks. I needed to get it cut down just to fit my head in the helmet right." She chuckled, "But I kinda loved how it came out. Thanks."

"You are welcome. I'll see you in the morning, eh Chief? Tomorrow is another fine Starfleet day..." Paris made her way to the door, talking over her shoulder as she walked. There was no need to urge Dox out before her- the point had been made, and Melanie Dox was nobody's fool. The first officer's work here was done, and she knew when and how to make an exit.

"Goodnight, Commander." Melanie replied as she turned for a moment, looking at the window overlooking the flight deck that Rita Paris had been staring out earlier. It was a magnificent view of the deck, that was now quiet for the evening shift. and she smiled.

"Computer, lights," was the last thing Melanie Dox said, before leaving the now empty Flight Control office for some much needed sleep. Tomorrow would indeed be another fine day in Starfleet.

It was shortly after 0:600 hours and Melanie Dox stood in the center of her spacious crew quarters. Her hair was as in place as was possible for someone with her curls and her deep red uniform was perfectly in place. She was standing at near-attention as she ran her hands down the front of her tunic, fussing with it.

The night before, she had received a message from her mother that had led her down an emotional spiral of bad memories and she needed to do something to get a handle on those emotions before resuming her duties as Chief Flight Officer of the Hera in less than an hour. She had recorded a rather perfunctory follow-up message, updating her mother as to her advances on the ship and wishing her well. But she hadn't gone into the flood of harsh memories that led her to cry herself to sleep the night before.

But on this morning, she was composed and as ready as she would ever be to say what had been weighing on her for years. At least, in a very roundabout way. For generations, Starfleet Officers have recorded messages like the one she was about to. Holographic farewells to their friends, family and fellow crewmembers in the event that a mission ended catastrophically. It was a standard procedure and she had recorded one prior that was rather flat and to the point. But this time, she was going to say something that had been eating her up for years.

"Computer. Prepare Holographic scanners for recording. Personal message for Jaieh Dox in the event of the Death of Lieutenant Junior Grade, Melanie Dox." She ran her finger nervously across the top of an ear and cleared her throat as the computer chirped in response.

=^=Recording prepared. You may begin when ready.=^=

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes for a moment, Melanie sighed and began, speaking in Rihan, the Romulan language she had been raised in.

"Jolan'tru, Mother. If you are seeing this mission, then I have most likely passed in the line of duty. Like any Starfleet officer or anyone who has ever understood the privilege of service to another for a cause that is important to them, it's the most one could ever ask for." Dox's arms were folded behind her back as she looked forward into an imagined image of her Mother, who was currently in the protective custody of Starfleet somewhere on Earth.

"And while I know you have never been a passionate supporter of Starfleet or the Federation, I hope you know that what brought me here was the lessons you have taught me about duty and honor. And it is here that I have found a purpose, and I have you to thank for instilling that in me. While the Forrager was a smuggling ship, we did what we did for a greater purpose and... I didn't always appreciate or understand that." Melanie's posture changed slightly as she brought her hands forward and crossed them in front of her as her eyes fell to the floor for a moment.

"But, if you're seeing this now, it means I never had the chance... or found the courage... to tell you something important. Something that has been eating me up inside for years that I need you to know and hopefully understand." Melanie cleared her throat again as she continued. "Your incarceration... our having been caught all those years ago by a Federation patrol ship... was my fault."

"I...I sabotaged the engine of the Forager." Melanie pulled her head up to try and Steele herself to continue as her eyes began to tear up. "When you and my Father were off the ship to negotiate over our cargo, I... I switched a clean exhaust filter on their impulse drive with a corroded one. It caused the ship to leave a detectable vapor trail once I put the ship into full impulse drive. I had hoped that at that moment, when we were in Federation space, that it would leave us detectable by their ship's sensors. And... and it did."

A tear ran down her plump cheek and she wiped it clear and sniffled as she then recrossed her arms behind her back and tried to stand up straighter trying to regain her composure.

"I... I was angry. I was scared. I was tired of the life you had put me in for fifteen years. I no longer cared about Romulus or Reunification or the politics that were your passion. I was... I was a kid who wanted a life and I knew that had we been caught in Romulan or Klingon space, we would likely all be put to death or worse. But in Federation space... by Starfleet... we would all have a chance to still have some kind of life. Of course, as you know, it took a long time for me to find any kind of happiness. And I've lived with the guilt of how I got to where I am now every single day since."

Relaxing her posture again, Melanie continued. "I... can't imagine what you're thinking about right now as you watch this. I can only imagine that you're furious... but I hope that in time you can at least understand that I felt... trapped. Impossibly trapped. And at the time, escaping was the only way I felt I could keep going." At this point, Melanie began to break down, as tears welled up and filled her eyes past their capacity. As tears began to flow freely, she continued.

"I... I used to... when you would leave me alone on the ship for any length of time... I would... sit in the cargo hold with my hand on the door controls. Sometimes for hours. I'd sit there and try and think of a reason to not just open the door. I didn't want to keep going, Mother. I wanted to die for a long time. Well, until I didn't. After a while, I decided that what I wanted was a life. A REAL life. One that I could choose for myself. I know it doesn't make it right, but maybe it can make it make sense. It's at least what I've told myself over the years."

"The past few weeks prior to recording to this were my first aboard this ship. And in this time, I've found something I rarely did anywhere else. I have friends here. Crewmates that seem to genuinely care about me. And... in our messages... you and I seem to have been moving forward in our own relationship. Which, of course, has been only increasing my feeling that I need to finally talk to you about this. And while I hope to be able to tell you all of this directly before too long, I needed to record this message." Melanie wiped the tears away from her face and cleared her throat. "Just in case."

"I wish I could know what you're thinking right now, as it would maybe make it easier. Probably not, though. I can only imagine that you're angry... disappointed... disgusted. But... regardless... I do love you and I am very sorry for what I did. If I could take it back and find another way to have moved on back then, I would do it. But I can't, so all I can do is try and live with my decision and hope that eventually you can understand."

"Please know that I love you, Mother. And I miss you. And I hope you can forgive me." Dox sniffled again, her voice cracking as she talked. "Goodbye."

Lifting her head slightly towards the ceiling, Dox spoke out to the room. "Computer, end recording and save file. Thank you." The computer chirped its response as Melanie flumped backward to sit on the edge of her bed and cry for a solid five minutes.

Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and walked over to the restroom mirror to clean herself up for the day ahead. She washed her face clear and straightened her uniform top. Taking a moment to reapply a light base of makeup and collect herself, she turned to the door and headed out to face her day, hoping that the Hera's current mission wouldn't require that message to be delivered.

Hoping that she can one day talk to her mother in person, and face up to her past no matter what the outcome.

=^= Doctor Dael to Lieutenant Sonak- Sir, could you please join me in Sickbay at your next convenience? I could use your expertise. =^=

With the message sent to the resident expert on all things psionic, Doctor Dael sat nervously at their desk, ostensibly working on reports, but in truth just staring at a PaDD trying to look busy. Ever since Hera had “whammied” the young doctor with her mental capacities, Asa had an odd itching sensation in the back of their mind.

Most of what the crazed goddess had said did not make much sense, but Dael remembered hearing about latent psychic and temporal sensing abilities deep within their people’s DNA. They knew of one or two other El-Aurian’s that had shown such aptitudes, but had never had the opportunity to meet them personally. The vision Hera had shown had been full of beauty, but then Asa had almost died as a result of seeing it, so the doctor was trepidatious about looking into the ability any further on their own.

The response came a few seconds later.

"I shall be with you in fifteen point five minutes, Doctor."

“Emergency Medical Hologram, can you please join me if now is an acceptable time?” the doctor called. They had quit asking the computer to activate the program- that just felt rude to do to a complex being with their own wants and desires. Asa knew they would not be best pleased to have someone wake them up by bellowing “Activate Medical Doctor Asa Dael” and turning on all the lights in their quarters, and Doc Dael wanted to show the same level of kindness and courtesy to their holographic colleague.

Materializing after a few moments, the EMH skipped the usual canned greeting and picked up a random PaDD and pulled up a document he had been working on. "Good afternoon. I hope everything is going well for you?"

“Hello Doctor, I hope you are functioning in the manner you wish to. I’m sure you remember my recent run-in with Hera. I’ve invited Lieutenant Sonak to join us and help me more fully understand what may have done. Can you please perform baseline scans on me to establish my current cognitive process patterns and compare to the onboarding information sent over from the Academy?”

"Of course. It will only take a moment." Setting aside the PaDD, the EMH grabbed a tricorder and a neuroscanner from just outside Asa's office before beginning the scans, placing the neuroscanner on Asa's forehead and running the tricorder scanner as thoroughly as he could. "I believe I have all the data I need."

Sending that data to a nearby terminal, he pulled up the prior baseline next to the current one and ran a comparison. The computer didn't find anything out of the ordinary other than in her brainwaves, which were also nearly identical. Pulling them up, the EMH did a bit more study on the new results. "With the scanners we have available, the only differences I can see is your brainwave pattern having changed slightly. However, there's so little known about the El-Aurian mind to begin with, this could be stress induced. I've requested the computer search for any similar patterns or..."

Before he could finish, the computer gave a slight chirp and brought up a medical file for another El-Aurian. Then another. And another. In total, forty seven records were retrieved that showed similar patterns. "Interesting... These scans were all taken immediately after these people were rescued from the Nexus back in 2293."

Dael had their fingers steepled beneath their chin- a recent affectation to use when thinking instead of constantly wringing their fingers or rubbing at their neck as was their wont. The doctor had decided they were tired of looking like a fidgety child and was trying to not overcorrect, but at the same time find something to do with their blasted hands.

“Curious,” they replied, “Do we know anything about changes to cognitive ability in any of these individuals after leaving the Nexus?

"Nothing concrete, but I think..." Tapping one particular entry, the EMH brought it up. "This Guinan... Her records show she aided the crew of a Starfleet vessel a few times in unusual ways as a bartender over the years before retiring again. Then this Fontra... Same thing with a merchant ship."

Asa's jaw dropped. "Wait, GUINAN????" they asked incredulously. "She is basically the El-Aurian version of a superhero....even if most of us don't know much more than she kicked serious ass. There is no way in heck I'm strong enough to stand up to a Q. No way. Fontra I'm less familiar with...."

The doctor was all but slack jawed at the revelation presented to them by the EMH. They had thought minor sensory abilities, maybe the idea to pick up on patients better. Not...anything like this.

"Fontra is a tailor that made her mark in the mercantile business in a similar fashion to Guinan, it seems," replied the EMH


Precisely fifteen minutes, thirty seconds later, the door to sickbay wooshed open and the newly-minted chief science officer stepped in.

"How may I be of service, Doctor?

“Thank you for joining me, Lieutenant,” Asa replied, pointing towards an empty chair in front of their desk. “As you may be aware, Hera recently implied that I have activated latent psychic abilities of some kind through my recent brush with death. She sought to stabilize me and show me the nature of these abilities, but further compromised my life-force, in the end savings me from another certain doom with an infusion of her own energy.

“The full report is here,” they advised, handing over a PaDD with all available details loaded. “The Doctor is helping me monitor what we are able to of changes in brainwave activity, and I was wondering if you would have the ability to further help us research the nature of what these changes may be, if any, given your advanced mental abilities.”

"I would have to study this data thoroughly before making a hypothesis," the Vulcan said glancing briefly at the PaDD with obvious interest. "However, there is also another method which would be much faster; and could make me as cognizant as you of the situation; a mind meld."

He looked at the doctor inquiringly, attentive to any reaction. Then he went into more detail.

"You should be made aware, however ,that a mind meld is not like a standard telepathic contact; a conversation between minds. It is a total,deep and complete fusion of two minds. Essentially, we would become as one being. We would share all our life experiences at the speed of thought; you would be initiated into the most fundamental principles of Vulcan logic and I would even experience your emotions."

He paused to reflect a moment before continuing.

"Your mind might not retain much of it, especially if it is the first time for you; although I do not know the impact on an El-Aurian's mind, as it has never been attempted on one of your people before, as far as I know. But I would retain all of it. Therefore, if you have things you would not want to be known or shared with another being,this seemingly easier and faster method would not be proper."

He looked at the doctor with his grey eyes straight into the El-Aurian's owns.

"I hypothesize that you contacted me because of this option. But I want you to evaluate all that this would imply for you."

The doctor sat thoughtfully for a moment. They had considered a mind-meld, but did not want to outright suggest such a thing. That would be far too personal to request, but if Sonak was willing, Asa would do much to obtain answers.

“I guess that’s the advantage of being young… I’ve haven’t had a chance to do too much I horribly regret. There are moments of sadness and anger you will see, but I’m sure you have experienced such from others in the past. I feel compelled to ask… is this safe for you? Does your mind possess safeguards in the event Vulcan and El-Aurian are not compatible?”

"Any endeavor implies risks," he stated flatly. "That being said, the Vulcan mind has natural defenses evolved over millennia of telepathic aptitude. All Vulcans learning to mind meld also learn failsafes and how to erect layers of barriers that even a Klingon mindsifter can not penetrate. Furthermore, achieving Kolinarh as I have expand this knowledge to a point that even the most powerful Betazoid would not be able to touch my mind unless I allowed it. And being purged of all emotions, your own feelings will not adversely affect me, which is what Vulcans usually find difficult to face. Let me further reassure you; I was once the host of the mind of a telepathic being so powerful it could exert it's power across the galaxy. I emerged of the experience drained but otherwise unscathed. Therefore, with all this in mind, I consider any risk here reasonably low."

He was careful not to mention that the being he was talking about had been a Talosian. Such knowledge was the most highly classified of all; General Order 7, the only remaining death penalty left in the Federation, would hang over the head of the good doctor should the El-Aurian ever know the details beyond Starfleet orders. He thus made sure to compartmentalized his whole experience of it in a part of his mind the meld would not allow Dael to be aware of.

For Dael's own sake.

Feeling much relieved, Asa considered another moment.

“OK, I trust your judgement. But just in case I throw a fuse or something myself, do you have any objections to the Doctor monitoring the process?”

"Most wise, Doctor Dael; let us proceed as you see fit. I will comply with your instructions and offer any help relevant."

As he said so, the Vulcan joined his hand as if washing them deliberately, then sat before them.

Dael took a few deep breaths, emotionally steeling themself for what was to come and replied simply, "Whenever you are ready, so am I. Doctor, please monitor vitals on both of us and alert the Lieutenant if you see any danger signs."

Delicately, Sonak brought the tip of his fingers of one hand to the left side of Dael's head. They slowly crawled the side of their jaw and skull, searching for nerve endings, finding nerve impulses, following synaptic signals, his own thoughts acting like eyes following individual letters to form words and understand sentences. He did not utter the usual 'my mind to your mind' mantra familiar to non-Vulcans. The El-Aurian had a powerful, well-structured mind, a focused will and a willingness that made contact almost instantaneous.

On the EMH monitor, there was a swift confusing of both cerebral waves, like two rivers meeting to create a larger, more powerful one. It was not two separate minds synchronizing but a new mind, made of both individual signals totally fused into one. The doctor's heart beat faster as Sonaks slowed down, but seeking equilibrium between the joined entities.

At this moment, on the psychic level, Dael and Sonak were one single entity. On the physiological level, their bodily functions synchronized as if the heart of one pumped the blood of the other, one's lungs giving air to the other. On the sensory level, they were alone together, with their senses multiplied by those of the others, giving a strange impression of looking into a mirror with a slightly different image and from the inside. On the physical level, only Sonak's fingers moved slowly across the El-Aurian's skull as if they each had a life of it's own. When their thoughts came, be they from one source or the other, they spoke together.

The portion of the mind originating from Asa dove straight in to the heart of the matter, bringing up memories of their encounter with Hera and focusing on what it felt like when her energy flowed into them.

"She showed me the ebb and flow of space and time. I felt the way things are, and could sense things that should not be. The color and swirl of energy and life threatened to consume me...."

Sonak followed their thoughts and feelings like a pond reflecting the light of the full moon.

"The universe can only be what your mind can make of it. Your mind is of the universe. Feel the link between the two; accept it; follow it. In the universe you will find yourself; in yourself you will find the universe. All that you have, all that you want, all that you need, you may find in both."

The panic seemed to recede from Dael’s voice. The calm energy of Sonak flowed into them, allowing them to stop and look at the images they had seen with Hera, but from a more objective viewpoint.

“The eddies of causation swirl. I am of the universe and outside of it. I see it and I change it. I see myself and I change myself. Action turns to consequence to causation to impact back to action. All things change. There is… life… all around me,” the doctor intoned.

"You are life. Life is you. Your life is your own. Your mind is your own. Your mind is what directs what you do, what you think, what you are what you live. Control is yours."

Sonak's own thoughts tried to guide them without directing them. Their minds were intertwined, but he would not interfere in what Dael's mind would choose. Like the clouds, it only made the wind be seen. it was up to them to fly or not with it and find what was beyond the horizon.

The doctor allowed themself to see the moment where they began to fade in memory. They saw the swirl of psionic energy ebb from them and return back to Hera. Dael perceived how they could have refilled the energy in their mind had they known the way, and saw how Hera drew actively from the environment around her at all times.

Flash forward past their plea for help to Hera for assistance, Asa saw as Hera drew in all available energies and flooded them into the doctor’s form. Asa felt the universe shift to allow the goddess to begin to fade from existence, the ether allowing entrance to her. Then, when Paris spoke, a spark of resolution formed in Hera, growing to the point to allow her remain on this plane. Dael felt the veil of this reality warp, sealing itself once more. They gained the slightest peak at what lay beyond that veil, and how it could be moved with sufficient will and energy.

A resonance formed in the doctor’s mind through all of this, a growing sense of the psionic and ethereal energies surrounding them even now. For the first time since awakening after surgery, Asa understood the constant thrum deep in the recess of their mind. It was… the universe. The ebb and flow of it, the unseen eddies of energy, the way it could all be shaped- or obliterated.

“It’s all so… tenuous,” was all the doctor said.

Sonak had broken contact. There was a lingering effect in both their minds, an echo of the other fading rapidly from conscious thought. He nodded to Dael.

"Indeed; like air is to breathing, heat to touch, light to sight. But it is there, nevertheless, just as tenuous... and essential. Now you have sensed it, and it is indeed strong now in you, since your inward contact with a cosmic entity. This is the connection of all living things to reality. Some like Vulcans and Betazoids are naturally more aware of it than others. Some humans too, while others completely ignore it. But there are disciplines, techniques and exercises to strengthen and in some cases harness this connection. If you so wish it, I can share what I know, and teach you to explore your own potential."

Asa was somewhat stunned. The intensity of sensation from during their connection was fading, but a residual sense of what they saw remained. Enough to encourage them to continue to learn more.

"Yes, please, I would like that," Dael replied.

The EMH was hovering over the two of them with a tricorder. "I hope the two of you learned something, because all I learned is that I don't like Vulcan mind melds. Monitoring the integration of two minds like that is extremely nerve wracking, especially when you don't know if there are signs to look out for."

"Then you have starting material to work on an interesting study I would say," the imperturbable Vulcan told the artificial doctor.

He then turned back to the biological medical officer.

"We could make up a schedule mutually convenient and start with basic Vulcan psionic training. But I could already show you the fundamentals of Vulcan meditative techniques aimed at this objective. As they are initially designed for Vulcan children, they should be quite easy for you to grasp even if you are not Vulcan and prove just as useful."

"Thank you, that would be great," Asa replied, then turned to the EMH and said, "Thank you for your help, it was a relief to know you were here. You are welcome to observe if you like, or if you have other places to be, perfectly understandable. I'm sorry to stress you out, I guess that's how we learn though, right?"

"Indeed it is. Though I've seen similar records, having witnessed it now with my own eyes... I feel almost... Inspired?" The EMH picked up a PaDD and started tapping at it. After a moment, he finished and just stared at it. "I believe my program may have grown beyond its initial programming because of this experience. I'm not programmed to write poetry, but I just did... It's probably just a glitch." Setting the PaDD aside, he returned to reviewing the tricorder readings. "Both of your brainwave patterns have returned to their prior states."

"There is no recorded after-effects of a mind meld unless it is frequently done between the same persons a certain number of times within a short time span," Sonak assured them both. "Even shared knowledge is not often retained by the untrained mind."

He focused on Dael.

"You will find in the computer library much information about Vulcan meditative techniques and some studies on psionic training. I suggest you familiarize yourself with the basics as a professional of medicine, and confirm there would be no adverse effect on someone of your species; and if so, how to compensate prior to our first session together."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. I will review the data and alert you to my findings," the doctor replied.

"And Doctor, I would love to share in your poetry if you would like to share. I am excited for you finding growth, I understand you were hoping to continue to do so. I'm proud to have been part of that," they spoke, affection apparent in their voice.

"Ah... Well, if you insist..." Blushing slightly, the EMH handed over the PaDD with the short poorly worded poem about brainwaves converging in sickbay.

Sonak stood hands behind his back. he gave a nod of acknowledgement to the sentient artificial lifeform then turned his grey eyes towards the chief medical officer of the Hera.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Doctor Dael?"

"No, that is all, thank you Lieutenant," Dael replied.

After reading the short attempt at poetry, Asa replied to the EMH, "I think it's lovely. You should be proud."