"Well, if there are no reports of planets disappearing, maybe it's a good thing. Somewhere out there as a cosmic balance, for every one of those worlds she seeds, Primordius is out there doing his impression of the Doomsday Machine. Keep looking and keep me posted, Ensign Balch."

Signing off, Commander Rita Paris stepped out onto the upper flight deck on Deck 3, where the trio of Cyclone exploratory craft were parked and primed. Getaway Driver in gold, Cherry Bomb in red, and Curiosity in blue. Formerly Romulan Scorpion fighter craft, they had been stripped out and refit as Federation exploratory vehicles, and this was to be their first major test.

Clad in her gold and black EVA suit, the pilot of the past had her helmet retracted, although she still had her visor down to use the HUD. Her old pistol-style phaser was clipped magnetically to her right hip and her billy club to her left, but she'd left the rest of her accouterments in the armory. For this mission, she was just a pilot and an explorer.

Behind her came the diminutive and slender Bularian enlisted and a sinuous and graceful ensign with cat girl ears sticking out of her violet mane. "Gunner's Mate Second Class Lu, you'll be flying with me. Ensign Purrr'a, you're with Lieutenant Dox."

As if on cue, the doors at the back of the bay to the Flight Control office wooshed open as Mnhei'sahe Dox came striding out, walking at the same brisk, martial pace Rita Paris was notorious for. At her side was a slightly taller, slim young human woman with straight, dark hair feverishly entering information into a PaDD while Dox talked.

"...and contact Engineering to have someone come look at the starboard, aft coupling on the impulse Nacelle of Shuttle 16. I keep getting a sluggish response on diagnostic." The portly, red-headed Romulan relayed to her junior officer as she ran through a diagnostic of her own crimson and black EVA suit.

"Will do, Lieutenant. Will that be all?" Replied the nervous looking young Ensign struggling to keep pace and type at the same time.

"Just get it done before I'm back. And while Ensign Gonadie is on the bridge, the office is yours Ensign MacNielle." Dox replied, finishing her system check. "Don't rearrange the furniture and everything should be fine. Dismissed."

With a smile and a nod, the nervous MacNielle returned to the office, still typing furiously on her PaDD. As she did, Dox stepped up to Paris at the side of the Cyclones. "Dock control is on standby for our departure and everything checks out in the green for the triplets, Commander. Once we each perform a pre-flight systems check, we will be clear."

In her enthusiasm, Dox had once robbed Paris of the pleasure of running a pre-flight check herself on a Runabout and wasn't making that same mistake again. The dangers of the next step of their mission was overshadowed in the preparation for this stage and the anxious aviatrix was happy for a task to occupy her mind.

As expected, Sonak was already there before everyone else, checking the sensors and computers of the diminutive crafts for final calibrations and perfect working order. He straightened up himself and his suit when his mission chief walked up to him. Nodding to the others, he stood at attention before Rita.

"At ease, Mr. Sonak," Rita called as he slid into a parade rest stance. "How are our little experiments today?"

''Every system nominal, Commander. The integrated tricorders of our EVA suits have been properly prepared and checked for the mission ahead. The Engineering craft has extra tools, fuel and oxygen reserves in case the other two are in need with one industrial replicator crammed at the back. The Science vessel has sufficient magnetic bottle containers for any sample we may judge relevant to take and a boosted up transporter and tractor beam for emergencies. Your Command craft has an extra cargo of micro-torpedoes, and one additional phaser mini turret at the back in case of unavoidable conflict."

The Vulcan presented a PaDD with all the specs and confirmed status as he finished.

"All pods are equipped with metaphasic remodulating shielding, with the Laforge program 1 installed. EM reinforcement is present on all systems, with manual overrides and the original warp signature masking nacelles. Starfleet stealth plating and combat armor similar to the original Scorpion fighters is still in place. This is, of course, but a brief summary of the overview of the changes made to these spacecraft. We are now ready to deploy, Commander.''

Cracking a smile, Paris ran her fingers lovingly over the canopy of the gold craft that matched her armor exactly, down to the antique Starfleet delta on the wing that she bore on the left breast of her exploration armor. "Excellent news, Mister Sonak- most appreciated. All right, we all know the mission- all three of these craft have scanning capabilities which will coordinate with our own suits, so our primary task is to take in-depth scans to determine what sort of life is on this planet, how stable her core is, what lingering effects of being transformed by protomatter might have and ideally collect samples for analysis both onboard and by Starfleet Intelligence."

"This is not meant to be a combat mission." Commander Paris reinforced. "However, there are now native life forms and they have been described initially as resembling the variegated species of Earth from millions of years ago, when reptiles and amphibians were the dominant life forms. As we will be operating in atmosphere, there is the possibility of encountering them, and they may be hostile.''

''Territorial aggressiveness and predatorial fear will undoubtedly cause some of those life forms to react negatively to our presence,'' Sonak agreed. ''But contrary to common belief, they will not be out there to eat you. We will be odorless and our alien shape, appearance and movement will undoubtedly confuse them, if we illicit any interest or even any awareness at all. We do not appear either as food or predator on this world, so they will mostly ignore us or keep their distance, unless they have enough intelligence to be curious. Expect this from lifeforms that may have evolved in similar ones to dinosaurians or early avians and mammals, which on Earth were indigenous to this stage of evolution. The elevated number of predatory plants will represent our main problem; but they can be easily avoided by keeping our distances from them. In any case, our suits should protect us long enough from natural poisons and acids to allow escape or rescue, even if we fall victim to some.''

''All excellent points, Mr. Sonak; thank you for that insight. So, the order of the day is, let's try not to despoil a virgin world, but defend yourselves. We can cover far more area and accomplish much more detailed scans as a divided trio, but be aware that we may be called at a moment's notice to regroup and rescue one another. Are there any questions... and has anyone seen Yeoman Dedjoy?"

“Then why are we here, Commander?” asked the gunner’s mate who had been excited about field testing experimental aircraft fire control systems, who was now hearing this was likely going to be a boring sightseeing mission.

“Because we’re Starfleet, Miss Lu. We approach in friendship and diplomacy, but we are always prepared for trouble,” Paris responded patiently. “So you’re here in case there is trouble, in which case I might need a gunner while I do some fancy flying to accomplish our mission. On the bright side, I believe Ensign Gonadie created all-new interfaces for said tactical systems, so you will be the first to investigate them from a user perspective, so I’ll be expecting a detailed report from you post-mission.”

Leave it to Paris to take a sullen question and turn it into more work for the questioner.

“I’m sure Miss Dedjoy will be along. Let’s mount up and get our preflight checks taken care of, so we’re ready to take off, and see just what these babies can do, shall we?” Paris suggested, moving the mission along. “Miss Lu, you’re with me. Miss Purrr’a, you’re with Lieutenant Dox. Yeoman Dedjoy will be accompanying Mr. Sonak.”

"Aye, Commander," Dox replied as she gestured to the half-Caitian Ensign to follow her to the Cherry Bomb. Once the two were secured in the cockpit, Dox in the front seat and Ensign Purrr'a in the slightly elevated rear seat, Dox closed the canopy and quickly ran through the pre-flight sequence.

"As these systems and interfaces are brand new, we'll be running through them here for the same time together, Ensign Purrr'a. So if you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask." Dox said back lightly over the shoulder as she ran the ship through its pre-flight checks.

"Underrrrstood, Lieutenant," the aptly named Purrr'a replied, running a systems check on the tactical interface.

After a moment, she opened the comm system to the other two Cyclones. "Cherry Bomb to Getaway Driver. Pre-flight check is clear. All systems in the green and comm is established." Dox called out with a slight smile.

That was when Yeoman Ila Dedjoy finally ran out onto the flight deck in a red and black ballistics padded EV suit. "Sorry I'm late, Commander! Some scan data finally came back from our probes and I had to brief the Captain. Gaia is beginning to slow and take on a female humanoid form as she's approaching her next target system and the internal metabolic readings are off the charts. She's also apparently preparing enough projectiles for all seventeen solid celestial bodies in the target system, including moons. Her adjusted arrival is twenty seven hours. Where do you want me? In the blue one with Lieutenant Sonak?"

"Indeed, Miss Dedjoy. The Curiosity is the Cyclone model with the greatest scanning capabilities, and as our resident geologist you should have more insight than most when interpreting the data," Paris broadcast over the channel she'd created and added Dedjoy to as well. "Getaway Driver reporting preflight checks complete. Mister Sonak, does Curiosity check out?"

''Affirmative,'' came the reply of the chief science officer. ''I just recalibrated the sensors to better sensitivity to protomatter as an early warning and guidance system. I have also reprogrammed the sensor computer to encompass and contain all the data the Federation has on early planetary and biosphere evolution. We will be both able to produce detailed data analysis results faster by a factor of plus fifty-three point seven percent. Our sensor readout will be linked with your own comm systems, in order to share our findings in real time.''

"Spectacular," Paris responded, then set the mission briefing. "We'll fly a coordinated search pattern from orbit, then plot the atmospheric scans from that data to determine what patterns we'll follow up with in atmospheric scans. We're not here for a fight, so let's not start one. I'd rather not have to report back to the Captain that we scratched up her shiny new spacecraft. Hera Flight Control, the is Away Team One. We are seeking clearance to take off on vector 119 mark 5. Preflight checks all clear, people?"

''All systems nominal, crew at station,'' answered Sonak after exchanging a confirming look from Dejoy, who produced an unmistakable thumbs-up.

"Aye, Commander," Dox replied, quite excited but maintaining her professional demeanor.

"Away Team 1, you are cleared for takeoff. Have a good time out there," came the response from Flight Control, as the trio of sleek and colorful craft had been quite the subject of discussion and cause for envy amongst many on the flight deck. For the shakedown mission, the Chief Science Officer was testing out the science vessel, the Chief Flight Control officer was taking out the assault model, and the First Officer was piloting the exploratory model. They left behind a great number of pilots who were awaiting their turns in the cockpits of the revolutionary new craft, adapted from what they had once been.

Those selfsame pilots were even more excited because it was a well-known fact that the improvements to these starcraft was only beginning, a hint of things to come.

Lifting gently off the deck, the trip of ships, flying in a tight 'v' formation behind Paris' golden-skinned craft passed over the heads of the crewmembers watching the launch from the lower flight deck. Seconds later, the three re-christened former Romulan Scorpions punched into the void of space from the hanger of the Hera. The light of the nearby star shimmered across the metallic crimson, gold and teal hulls as they banked towards the protoplanet below.

From the crimson-clad Cherry Bomb, Lieutenant Dox called out to the trio. "Cherry Bomb to Cyclones. We are clear of the Hera. Vector for orbital pattern is entered and flight systems are synchronized. Search pattern formation delta six, form up on Curiosity."

''Moving to grid OO1A north vector,'' announced Sonak before angling his blue hull towards the designated northern pole of the planet, a blue-green and white oblate spheroid slightly tilted on its axis, way past the orbit of it's two spherical natural satellites of moderate size. The trio achieved standard orbit, 1000 km above the surface of the planet, then the crimson and golden craft split off when they hit the magnetic pole of the planet, arcing out to begin crisscrossing the outer atmosphere like electrons orbiting a nucleus as they performed orbital scans, as could the Hera were she close enough.

"High orbital scans complete. Decrease altitude to 500 km and repeat scanning pattern," Paris ordered as the colorful starcraft crisscrossed the globe of the virgin world that five solar days ago had been a desolate lifeless hunk of space rock with an atmosphere so thin as to be practically nonexistent. "What are we getting for readings so far, Mr. Sonak? Anything particularly troubling or merely fascinating? Has the protomatter matrix settled or is the planet still in a state of flux from the terraforming?"

''No detectable trace of protomatter,'' answered the chief science officer over the comm channel. ''The terraforming process is obviously completed. The current state of planetary conditions could be summarized as primeval, as expected; few but large land masses, widely spread and numerous volcanic and tectonic activity, dense biosphere with high atmospheric pressure and levels of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. The flora and fauna must be quite dense and widespread, confirming the elevated life form readings we have.''

He sent them the accumulated sensor recordings as he finished his report summary.

'' Nothing so far that could be qualified as fascinating; but certainly interesting, if we are to consider the very young age of this planet and the advanced stage of evolution. Obviously, we are seeing an artificial planetary construct.''

He paused before adding;

''It will be most interesting to see if such lifeforms are copies of existing ones or if evolution has been given free rein here.''

"Looks like we're wrapping on the orbital scans. All right, time to test the atmospheric capabilities of the Cyclones, people. Miss Dox, you and I will do flyovers to cover the oceanic masses in a standard grid pattern. Let's keep it about 10 kliks off the deck, folks. That should be high enough for our sensors to observe without encountering much of the planet's wildlife. Feel free to slow down if you see something of interest come up, and keep an eye out for lifeforms at the altitude we're maintaining. We'll decide if we're going down from our scans at that altitude. Mister Sonak, you and Miss Dedjoy take the pulse of the planet on the surface masses if you please. Any questions?"

From the Cherry Bomb, Dox replied. "No, Commander. Atmospheric density is high. Vectors are entered for optimal entry."

''Negative, Commander,'' also replied Sonak. ''Plotting course for standard atmospheric entry, parabolic course projected for standard survey grid pattern over the northern continent. We will maintain open channel but expect forty-seven seconds of communication blackout until we all complete reentry.''

"Understood, thank you Lieutenant. All right folks, let's go be the first to lay eyes on a virgin world." Diving into the upper atmosphere, the excitement Rita Paris felt was unparalleled. She understood that Gaia was en route to more inhabited worlds, and she knew the clock was ticking, but this was pure exploration. This was going where no human had gone before, and exploring a literal new world. Only her tailgunner could hear her due tot he comms blackout, but Paris shared her thoughts with her subordinate.

"This... this right here. This is why I joined Starfleet," Paris pointed out the cockpit, which at the moment was a fiery trail of their smooth re-entry into the thick atmosphere. "To see what was out here, to boldly go, and to explore strange new worlds... and it doesn't get any stranger or newer than this. We don't know what we'll see, what we'll encounter, or what we'll discover. This is what Starfleet is really all about, petty Officer Lu. The wonders we discover..."

After a moment, the Cyclones slid smoothly into the dense upper atmosphere of the protoworld. As they did, Dox called out to the group, checking in the status of their communication systems. "Entry procedure complete. Lieutenant Sonak's search grid pattern entered into navigation, elevation set for ten kilometers. Comm systems reading green. Confirm?"

''Confirmed,'' replied the deep soft voice of the Vulcan chief science officer over the comm speakers. ''All systems nominal. We are implementing survey procedures over the northern continent in five point three seconds... mark.''

After a moment, the Cyclones slid smoothly into the dense upper atmosphere of the protoworld. As they did, Dox called out to the group, checking in the status of their communication systems. "Entry procedure complete. Lieutenant Sonak's search grid pattern entered into navigation, elevation set for ten kilometers. Comm systems reading green. Confirm?"

“Comms confirmed, altitude confirmed, search pattern laid in, and we are five by five,” Paris reported cheerfully, taking in the breathtaking vista of the brand new world. “All systems green. Looking good across the boards, so let’s go explore a planet, people. And maybe see some Earth prehistory in the process. Nothing like a dinosaur to liven up your day…”

With that said, Paris slid the maneuverable small craft on course, and as the brilliant blue waters sped by below, she brought up the global positioning marker as she assaulted latitude and Lieutenant Doc assaulted longitude, while Lieutenant Sonak focused on the land masses. These deep scans would bulwark the initial scans from the Ameratsu and the Photon, and provide Starfleet geologists the first close-up look at the virgin planet created by the whim of a higher being, using energies quite similar to the forbidden Genesis technology.

Yeoman Dedjoy had been able to ignore her fear of not only away missions but of flying and of dying by focussing on the scan data and tweaking the scanners to get the specific scan data types she needed. "Commander, these readings are amazing. If my estimates are correct, the protomatter matrix is completely stable and should be completely decayed within another three days, leaving this world as if it had just evolved this way naturally over billions of years. In fact, I'm showing signs that not only is the biological life still evolving rapidly, but the planet is as well. The atmosphere and planetary crust are adapting to fit that of a standard class M planet of a standard late Mesozoic to early Cenozoic era time frame. I wouldn't be surprised if we started seeing insects and mammals in a matter of hours at this rate."

''Insects predates mammals by roughly three hundred and fifty million years on all evolutionary scales,'' Sonak specified as he also looked at the readouts. ''Most of their evolutionary tracts are intimately linked to that of plants which first populated land masses. They are also a structural offshoots of crustaceans which appeared even before cartilaginous fishes. Judging by the dense photosphere we detected, insectoid life forms must have been here for quite some time already. As for mammals; their eclosion parallels that of birds, dinosauria and reptiles but their prosperity was due essentially to massive extinction events which may not happen at all here, leaving other dominant lifeforms to stay dominant.''

“That would explain some of the massive migration herds I am reading on the sea floor,” Paris chimed in. “Apparently the local crustaceans are pretty darned large… well well well, six meters sans legs? That… is a very large crab,” Paris commented as the golden Getaway driver zipped across the ocean of the virgin world. “I’m also reading what look like horseshoe crabs… looks like most life on the planet has antennas. So far not picking up any mammalian lifeforms, but that’s no surprise given the science.”

From the Cherry Bomb, Dox reported in. "As far as large goes, I'm picking up a number of airborne life signs near the coastal region in my search region. Currently reading eight separate life forms on sensors clocking approximately seventy-five KPH at a current max altitude of three kilometers from the surface. And these things are big. Estimating a ten-meter wingspan, Commander."

Continuing, Dox added. "Recommend we avoid the coastline as that seems to be where they're congregating."

“Well, at this altitude we should be safe, Lieutenant. Although duly noted if closer scans are called for. Mister Sonak, what’s that looking like to you? Will we need to land to secure some samples of the local flora and or fauna for the survey?” Paris asked without any jocularity- this was serious business, and coming in for a landing put the personnel in harm’s way. But if it needed to be done, they were equipped for the mission. Although in the back of her head, she had already decided to discount the science starcraft if at all possible, as she was concerned for Yeoman Dedjoy. She lived in fear of dying on one of these alien planets doing something dangerous, and if she could help it Commander Paris was intent on not pushing the young woman to deal with such a situation.

"They may predate them, Lieutenant, but I'm talking about giant insects like what was just mentioned. Spiders and grasshoppers large enough to snack on the largest of trees and dinos."

''Have no such fear,'' Sonak told here deadpan.'' The structural characteristics and respiratory system of insectoid and arachnoids prevents them from reaching sizes larger than at most a meter or two, even in ideal conditions; physics are the same here as elsewhere in the universe. If you spot anything larger, they are definitely not of this biological genus. Crustaceans, however, are another matter; they grow their entire lives and have water to support their mass. If they have a long enough lifespan, the right environmental conditions like higher oxygen content and no major predators to threaten their existence, they might grow as large as what Commander Paris reported."

Ila was starting to get a little excited to see just what kind of multi-legged fauna was growing out there now. "Commander, recommend we descend closer to the treeline for better readings."

Internally Rita groaned. Leave it to scientific curiosity to override fear.

''Commander,'' then added the Vulcan; '' the large aerial lifeform you detected might be of a new unknown genus. On your planet, the only flying creatures to ever reach such sizes were flying reptiles of the pterosaur family like Queztacoatltus. It would be amazing if evolution here parallelled that of your homeworld.''

"All right... let us finish the surface scans and reconnoiter, and we will go in together so we can watch one another's backs. I read us as having another five minutes of surface scans before we've rough mapped the surface- Lieutenant Sonak, please choose a landing zone and we will reconvene there then descend." if there was a better idea she'd hear it- Sonak was not shy about speaking up when something needed to be said, and while Dox was still strictly adherent to rank and etiquette, she too would not be shy about speaking up if the mission were imperiled.

The chief science officer's reply came over the comm.

''There is no more data we can gather at current altitude. If we are to make accurate taxonomical studies and actual observations, we need to get within at least a few dozen meters of the tree canopy. Sample collections can be done safely but roughly with transporters. Precise selections will require a landing. If we do so, I recommend no more than two of our crafts on the ground while the third watches over. We should then choose a clearing, preferably on elevated terrain, so that any threat could be spotted from afar and downward.''

“Understood, Lieutenant Sonak. Please choose landing coordinates and we will convene at that location. Miss Dox, you will be on overwatch mode- please remain airborne and be our eyes in the sky, as well as our primary deterrent. Miss Lu, you and I will disembark to cover the science team while they work. Understood?” Paris called over her shoulder.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied over the Comm before turning over her shoulder to address her tactical support. "Keep your eyes on those sensors, Miss. Purrr'a. We're on."

“Ah, ma’am, I didn’t bring a phaser rifle or a TR-116…” Petty Officer Lu replied dryly.

“You brought a type 2 phaser, Miss Lu, and we will still have the firepower of the landing craft. If you are afraid to set foot on the alien world with only a hand phaser, you may opt to remain behind and man the ship’s weaponry,” Paris shot back in what was supposed to be a scathing rebuke.

The old-fashioned officer was surprised when she received a “Thank you, ma’am, glad to.”

While she was disappointed, it still brought a smile to the face of the old-school officer. Back in the old days it would be herself and Sonak beaming down in their uniforms, armed with hand phasers and tricorders, counting on their communicators to call for help if they got in over their head. These modern explorers were afraid to leave the ship? How times have changed, she mused.

There was a fertile valley Sonak had chosen, with a prairie a healthy distance from a watering hole, where they could observe some of the planet's life forms gathering, while giving the opportunity to take samples with high visibility. Bringing the compact blue starcraft down, he was shadowed by his partner in gold, even as the crimson craft of the trio spun, taking snapshot scans to augment the real-time scans.

Hovering in an orbital pattern approximately two hundred yards overhead, the Cherry Bomb circled the perimeter of the landing zone, close enough for careful observation and intervention but not so close as to spook the newborn fauna.

With one eye on the sensors and one eye out the cockpit, Dox was maintaining a tight vigil. "Commander, a wide sensor sweep shows massive lifesigns all around. Likely insects, though. Nothing large enough to be a hazard through an EVA suit in range, though."

"Thank you, Miss Dox," Rita expressed as she touched down, then slapped her helmet down and depressurized the cabin before popping the canopy. Vaulting out, the gold-armored Valkyrie eyed the petty officer. "Keep your eyes on the sensors. If something wicked this way comes I want to be notified, and I want you to have a weapon trained on it. But fire control on my command only- are we clear on that, Petty Officer Lu?"

"Aye ma'am," Lu nodded, then was surprised when Paris closed the canopy, sealing her into the safety of the craft, much to her relief.

''Commander; We only need to get soil samples and a few simple vegetation specimens to properly analyze the basic biological makeup of this biosphere,'' Sonak stated through the comm. ''Soil bacteria and microorganisms will provide all the fundamental data we need and the phytomatter's genetic structure will be a proper basic pattern model for the more advanced life forms. For more complex ones like animals, simple observation and tricorder records will suffice for a preliminary survey.''

Monitoring the conversation from above, Dox chimed in quickly as her ships sensors began to light up. "Dox to landing party. We may get those preliminary surveys sooner rather than later. Sensors indicate multiple life forms... Currently picking up twelve blips, three point five meters in length moving in the canopy of the surrounding trees at nineteen KPH on your position from all around. Atmospheric interference isn't letting us get a clear visual on exactly what, but something coming."

Turing over her shoulder, Dox called back. "Ensign Purrr'a, get a phaser lock on the incoming targets, maximum stun setting."

The antique-appearing type 2 phaser that was magnetically locked to her right hip came out in a practiced motion, and Commander Paris moved to close the distance between herself and the two scientists. Phaser up and scanning the treeline, the extradimensional explorer watched her sensors, now picking up said movement in the distance. “I’ve got your back covered… you two gather your samples, and let’s not try not to test our first contact skills on the local life forms today.”

Sonak activated his tricorder.

''Detection confirmed, arachnoid-type lifeforms apparently jumping from tree to tree at five point two-seven meters per second and closing in a definite pattern. If they are indeed similar to Terran arachnids, they must have picked up the heat signature of our shuttles with their infrared sensory organ.''

The Vulcan turned his grey eyes to Rita.

''Commander; on your homeworld, arachnids are among the top of animal intelligence; just below cetaceans, great apes and octopi. And that is for those smaller than your hand. Considering the size of those approaching, their brain mass must be proportionately much higher. Commander, we might be about to make first contact with the native sentient life form on this planet.''

Leave it to the somber scientist to point out that the giant arachnids that most would assume were just hungry local lifeforms might be the dominant intelligent species on the planet. As per usual, he was probably right. But the safety of the landing party was her primary concern… although making first contact with a species that literally did not exist a few days ago was sorely tempting.

Quick decisions were the Commander’s forte, and this situation was no exception. “Pre-warp society, Mister Sonak- we’re not to interfere with the development of life here if we can help it. Discretion is the better part of valor, so please return to your ship and let’s be away from here before we can impact the natives any more than we already have. Dedjoy, load up- now. If we must make contact I’d prefer it be with minimal danger to the landing party.”

''Acknowledged,'' the Vulcan responded as he started moving back to Curiosity, his eyes still on his tricorder recordings..

Dedjoy quickly finished taking the soil, water, and moss samples she was sealing up and hopped back into the cyclone just as the black and purple arachnids came bouncing out of the tree lines, webbing trailing behind them like parachutes to ease their descent into the clearing. For a moment, the two largest of the dozen chittered at each other in a seemingly intelligent manner before simultaneously launching webbing at the two landed cyclones as thick and soft as silk rope, but as strong as steel cable and as sticky as super glue.

Over the comms came Dedjoy's voice in a soft murmur. "I've soiled my EV suit..."

From overhead, the Cherry Bomb swept down, in a precision maneuver. Phaser fire strafing a line in the ground between the spiders and the landing team that served as both a potential warning shot and a means to sever the webbing. "Shields are up, I'm bringing us between you and them, Commander. Ensign Purrr'a, keep that weapon primed for the rear flank. They're surrounding the team."

As she spoke, she brought the crimson craft in a low hover to block the advancing spiders on the landing team's most open flank.

"Mister Sonak, I am having a hard time believing they are interested in an intelligent discourse on cultural exchange. Load up and let's vacate now, if you please!" With that, Rita remotely triggered the canopy release on the golden exploration craft, hastily climbing in. "Anyone having any luck understanding them through the universal translator?"

As the spiders seemed to pause for a moment at the blasted trench, Dox called back. "Negative on translators, Commander. Our warning shot slowed them down, but they're on the move again."

As the dozen giant spiders moved around the cyclones and shot a few bits of webbing that flared out into nets at the away team, Dedjoy worked past her fear as best she could and ran the constant chittering through the computer systems she had access to. "The computer is getting something. It's very similar to Tholian but a lot more basic. I think they're communicating hunting tactics to each other and they think we're... Crunch bugs. A little bit more and I think I 'll have a working translation matrix."

''They are communicating through pheromones,'' Sonak understood as his nose picked up complex variations of smell. ''The universal translator has no olfactive system to pick those up nor algorithms to translate them. The sounds they make are just complementary to their main mode of communication, like our own body language is to our tongues. It would take months to build a baseline translation. A fascinating project... but impractical and dangerous at this time.''

"I think I've got the general idea, Yeoman, thank you." With Sonak buttoning up, Rita Paris did the same, sealing the craft, bringing the shields online and warming up the engines. "Heavy stun, tailgunner. Get us targeting and... oh, well, hello." The HUD on the canopy lit up as the system began autotargeting the giant colorful arachnids. As Rita brought the starcraft up, one of the spiders leapt at the golden vehicle, it's long legs spread wide. Accelerating upward, Getaway Driver made a game play of getting away from the giant spider, but two of those pedipalps managed to catch on her starboard wing, and the craft lurched back towards the ground as the spider's weight added to the strain on the engines.

Suddenly, a burst of stun fire streaked past Rita's canopy, knocking the spider off the Getaway Drivers wing. Spinning around slightly overhead, the turret of the Cherry Bomb was moving rapidly to stun or force back as many of the advancing creatures as possible.

Over the comm, Dox called out. "Commander, we need to move. The commotion seems to be attracting unwanted attention. Sensors show six of our coastal flyers inbound on our position. ETA is twenty-five seconds and now clocking one hundred and ten KPH."

''A possibly; predators alerted by the noise,'' suggested the Vulcan. “They should provide a reprieve for us, as we are meaningless to them, but I suspect not so much our new friends here.''

"This is turning into a party, isn't it? Fire at will, Tailgunner Lu," Paris ordered as she righted the controls and began to climb, although not as quickly as she was supposed to, as sticky webs were ensnaring the small craft. A few poonting noises from the undermounted TR-116C indicated the launching of incendiary grenades, which drove the arachnids back shrieking. The ensuing splashes of inflammable material made short work of the webs, giving the small golden craft the time it needed to gain some altitude as the flyers winged their way in.

As Dox pulled the nose of the Cherry Bomb up to try and pull up from the attacking arachnids, she quickly changed course, charging back into the fray near the ground to avoid the talons of an oncoming flying creature. It's wide, bat-like wings stretched out with a brilliant pattern of pinks and greens. The flyers were forcing the Cyclones to stay low. "Purrr'a, new targets! Set to heavy stun!" Dox called out as she posted power to the small craft's shields.

That's when a third threat suddenly reared its head. From the trees what could only be described as a cross between a chicken and a T-Rex with pink and brown feathers leaped out of the trees and pecked at one of the spiders, completely severing and gobbling up one of the arachnid's legs and nearly catching the blue cyclone with the leap. Screaming chittering commenced between the giant spiders, as they refocused their efforts on defense against the new threat and ignored the now retreating cyclones.

Over the comms could be heard Dedjoy's soft murmur. "I've soiled my EV suit again..."

With eyes staring wide for a second, Dox shook off the momentary surprise and refocused. "Hnave..." She muttered in Rihan. "Uh... Now that is a Thunderchicken." Dox joked to herself, forgetting her comms were open as she readjusted her course around the new obstacle.

"All right, brown alert aside, I think we've had enough excitement for one day... let's get orbital, people," Paris ordered over the comms, as the savage prehistoric battle waged below them on the alien planet teeming with life that five days ago had been a lifeless ball of rock in space. "Truly remarkable. I'm unofficially renaming this planet Dinotopia."

''Hardly accurate but certainly available in the planetary database,'' Sonak commented then suggested: ''Commander; have all crafts activate external lights.''

And so saying, he lighted up the outside emitters of Curiosity. The sudden flaring of light startled every creature in the vicinity; the intelligent arachnids froze, all their eight eyes wide. The winged ones veered off sharply in sudden fear and the walking predator steeped back dragging its first prey in instinctive apprehension. As the other two craft followed suit, this was all more than enough for the trio of small craft to shoot out in open sky, faster than any flying creature could ever hope to follow.

Once all three craft were safely back in orbit, Paris spoke over the comms. “Great work down there, people. Good teamwork, way to watch one another’s backs, and I’m very proud of all of you. What do you say we get these readings and samples back to the Hera, and hopefully they’ll render some clues as to how to deal with the entity who managed this.”

“After all, as beautiful and wondrous as this is, if we don’t stop her Gaia is going to start overwriting inhabited worlds like this,” the anachronistic astronaut reminded the away team. “We have to find a way to stop her- and this was an important step in that direction."

"Well done, all- let's go home.”

Travel time between missions, even in the unbelievably fast USS Hera, still took a few days to cross the distance. 22 light years, which in her day would have taken 15 days at Warp 8 could now be accomplished in 3 days, and it taxed the engines about the same amount. One of the perks of living in the future was that the starships and systems were far more advanced, and thus the time to keep oneself occupied was considerably lessened.

Of course, they still flew as fast as possible to cross the distance. Because if there was one thing that hadn’t changed, it was that Starfleet was always in a fight for the future. Which meant that starships were always in a hurry to get where they needed to be.

But for today, with over 24 hours to their destination and the most recent crisis averted, Rita Paris found herself with some time on her hands. Recently she had admitted to her protégé Mnhei’sahe Dox that she was, in point of fact, a substandard hand to hand combatant. Which had led to both of them learning a bit about one another. After all, it was an old Earth saying that you never know yourself or another until you’ve been in a fight. Now that the truth was out there, Dox seemed just as determined to help Rita overcome her melee combat handicap as she had been to get Dox to overcome her social anxiety and self-image issues.

It was late in the day. Sonak needed more time in the lab, as the protomatter puzzle was one of a dozen such mysteries he was analyzing with insufficient data, and he was determined to find answers. Which Rita had no desire to interfere- after all, their lives might depend on Sonak’s brilliant observations and conclusions, as they so often did, thus she would leave him to work and connect with him later. One of the joys of being reunited with him was the surety that he would be there for her every evening, which did wonders to keep her on an even keel and on course.

But with Sonak tied up, the reports filed, no testing to be done and she’d already taken a long morning run, Rita was a bit anxious to do more with her evening. On a whim, she toured the Security armory, taking note of the duty roster and ensuring that her people were on point, which they had been. Most of the toxic masculinity crew who had served under French and Sexton had been replaced by fresh recruits, who were all too concerned when they saw their gold-clad commander approaching.

Respect for the rank was not something Rita discouraged. If they were doing nothing wrong, there would be no fear. If they were, then fear of the rank would serve quite handily. Since she was here, she decided to spend a little time in her EVA armor doing some training. Of all the technologies she had encountered in the far-flung future of the final days of the 24th century, the improvements to the EVA suits had been the most pleasing to her. It had also been the technology that she had found herself adapting to the easiest, since she had spent many hours in the EVA suits of her day, and these were a massive upgrade over those old suits. Being an athlete certainly helped, as they reacted to her movements and input, and responded with enhanced speed, strength and reflexes.

On a lark, as her upper armor clamshell sealed about her, Rita warmed up the comms system and placed a call.

“Paris to Dox… if you aren’t too busy, Miss Dox, I wonder if you might join me in the Armory for a bit of EVA training?” Really, this was to continue to hone her combat skills, but setting expectations was never a bad idea.

Meanwhile, Mnhei'sahe Dox was making herself busy after hours tucked under the flight console of her personal light craft, the Khallianen. The small, J-Type shuttle had been bequeathed to her when she was made a Baroness of the Artan Pirate family by the Hera's Captain, Enalia Telvan. And with her partner Mona Gonadie still on bridge duty for a few more hours, Dox was similarly looking for ways to occupy herself. While a casual inspection of their physicality would not reveal it, in habits and attitudes the two women were quite similar beneath the skin.

As the call came through, Dox dragged herself out of the console and closed it up as she tapped her comm badge. "Dox here, Commander. That sounds like a great idea. I can be there in a few minutes."

As she spoke, she pulled herself off the deck and began wiping herself clean with a towel before locking up the small ship that had been her little side project of late when she felt like tinkering.

Satisfied that she would soon have company, Paris limbered up by doing some basic stretches and calisthenics while she waited. While the armor enhanced what was already there, despite her build, Rita was a runner. Long lean muscle groups lent her flexibility and endurance, and though she was not considered strong for a woman her size, she could still exert force when necessary, and the EVA armor aided that considerably. But today would be an upper body workout, as she had something else in mind. Using the HUD in her visor, she placed another call.

“Baroness von Alcott… I have Miss Dox joining me in the armory for some armor training,” Rita called out, knowing the computer would make the connection and relay the message faithfully. ”It dawns on me that it might be a good opportunity for you to school us both in the art of swordplay if you’ve a mind. After all, we can take some light hits from when armored up, and neither of us is very good with a sword just yet. What do you say- up for a bit of swordmaster instructions for your two worst pupils?”

The Baroness Schwein von Alcott was also in her own personal shuttle, but for a different reason - she was looking over some Asgardian wedding dress designs in private without the Hera's ship's computer making comments about what might look good or not on her. the last thing she needed was idle computer commentary.

When the call came in though, she tapped the comm badge at her throat and replied. "Ja, I would love to join you, Commander. I will be there shortly." Taking a moment longer to look at the golden armored nightgown she was currently looking at, she shook her head and tossed her data retrieval device aside and headed to her armor rack to suit up for training.

After a few moments, Lieutenant Dox came striding into the armory, tugging slightly at the slick black undersuit worn for the application of their EVA armor that she had put on in her ship. She had been working towards walking through the corridors of the Hera with her head held high when she wore this particularly form-fitting suit, in spite of her self consciousness regarding her portly, one point six meters and nearly one hundred and thirty kilogram frame.

Seeing Rita Paris stretching and waiting, the anxious aviatrix called out, "Evening, Commander."

Schwein arrived right behind her, already in her beat up, gold pirate's EV armor, the large dome with the skull markings popped open for now to show the silver hair and bright smile of the augmented woman. "Guten tag, Commander, Baroness. It is pleasing to see the both of you hale and hearty."

Nodding with a smile, Dox greeted the Baroness as well. "Good to see you as well, Baroness von Alcott."

“Miss Dox! Baroness!” the cheerful commander replied. “I suspect you were both already finding something to while away the time, so I appreciate you coming down to do some training with me. If nothing else, perhaps some exhaustion will help us along. I’ve invited the Baroness to come down as well- I was thinking some practice with a sword in our hands couldn’t hurt, and the Baroness seems to be quite the able instructor. So, since I tend to only have sword in my hand when I am wearing this hard candy shell, it seemed like a logical exercise.” While logic wasn’t her strong suit, Rita Paris specialized in common sense.

Thus this exercise, in its myriad forms, made sense to her. After all, they would soon be losing the company of the Baroness von Alcott, and Rita noticed she was distinctly avoiding considering that possibility. The one-eyed pirate was surprisingly dear to her, and thinking about her leaving the Hera was a reality that, despite her own very active hand in the situation that had brought it about, she did not wish to consider emotionally.

"Well, you two are a bit more prepared for this than I am just yet, but that's easily remedied." Dox stepped back a few feet and held her arms and legs out slightly. "Computer. Authorization, Dox. M. Lieutenant. Access code 795-X9E. Please initiate EVA Armor up protocols for tactical sparing version."

The shimmering lights of the transporter flared for a moment around the Red-headed Romulan, and when it was finished she was now wearing the metallic crimson plates of her EVA armor, without any of the attached weapons or computer interfaces. Her visored helmet was folded open leaving her head open for the moment. As it completed, Dox called up to the room. "Excellent. Thank you."

=^=You're Welcome, Lieutenant Dox.=^= The computer replied with a chirp.

"There. Now I feel better." Dox grinned at the two women.

Looking over the crimson-clad commando, Paris frowned slightly. “No sword, Miss Dox? Are you operating on the principle that whatever weapon you lay hands on will have to do, I take it?”

Slightly embarrassed, Dox grinned awkwardly as she replied. "Well, I know virtually nothing about swords but I know there are a wide variety of different sizes and styles and I was hoping that the Baroness could recommend what kind she thought would be best for me."

"Ja, I have seen you fight." Unclipping the datapad Schwein seemed to always have hidden at the back of her belt, she tapped at it a bit before a neon green transporter beam activated in front of her on the floor. She then picked up the small Caitian case that had materialized and handed it over to Dox. "Consider this a gift. Caitian assassin blades. They were... A parting gift... From an old rival. Considering your skill in hand to hand, I believe these would be best suited to you."

Inside the box was a pair of 18 inch daggers curved to look like claws and carved from raw durasteel. The grips were wrapped in white eel skin and red chording. Both the blades and box spoke to the age of the weapons and how many battles they had been in.

Taking the blades out of the box, Dox admired them for a long few seconds. "I... these are beautiful. Thank you very much, Baroness." the red-headed Romulan looked genuinely awestruck by the gift and had a wide, appreciative smile on her face.

"Just promise you will be careful of the poison vials in the box." Schwein added, looking a bit sheepish. "I will attest to the potency firsthand, ja?"

"Wait, poison? Yeah. I'll... be careful..When we're done I'll contact Yeoman Dedjoy to have the vials locked away." With a slightly awkward quirk to her neck, Dox closed the box and slid it gently into a locker along the wall for safe keeping. "Okay... So... I guess now I learn how to not stab myself with these?"

Schwein replied by pulling her own shortsword and moving it around herself gracefully as if it were an extension of her arm. "Like I said before. They are but extensions of you. Do not aim for your target but aim with your fist behind your target. Move like water, ja? Short blades require more flexibility than long, but I can see you have the skills already. Long blades are more forgiving but the short blades are far more rewarding."

Watching Schwein world her sword had a certain mesmerizing, balletic quality. Dox did her best to watch and absorb her words as she spoke. She held her own curved twin blades low at her side, but her arms had a bounce to them, ready to move. "I hope I prove worthy of your opinion of me. So, what's next?"

"All right... I pulled this thing out of the armory in the Intel pod," Rita tugged the oversides billy club off her hip, which was clearly much heavier than it looked. "I loved this thing because it was versatile. Like this it's a very heavy cudgel, which, I figure a very dense chunk of metal is always useful. But this was why I wanted to bring it along."

Twisting the rounded pommels on either end of the rod, the entire thing began unwinding into sheets of metal, which, as she turned, wound themselves into a high-tech wide-bladed claymore. The entire transformation only took about ten seconds, then Rita wrapped both hands around the long hilt and moved it a bit experimentally. "It may be ridiculous or I may be overcompensating for my lack of fighting ability. But I picked this one out intentionally when I picked my kit, so I'd like to try to learn how to fight with it. If only to see if I'm wasting my time with it."

The silver-haired pirate grinned widely. "Anything adaptable like that is never a waste of time. It iz very much you, I think, ja? You can keep your opponent away and strike at great distance."

The buxom blonde nodded. "I'll admit, being able to keep an opponent at bay is a big part of the appeal of the big sharp two meters of steel. And in the armor I'm strong enough to do this one-handed if I'm willing to give up the leverage, so that I can," Rita slapped her right hip, clearing her phaser that slid easily into her grasp. Posing like a Princess of Mars, Rita grinned. "Now if I only was as badass as I look, I would be SO set!"

The silver-haired pirate returned the shortsword to her waist and pulled the claymore handle from her shoulder, the two-meter blade unfolding as she pulled it free. She then executed a complex series of spinning swings and foot movements, her feet spread shoulder width apart and barely leaving the ground.

"With the claymore, you want a solid foundation with the legs and to keep your movements solid in the hips and shoulders. Never swing with your back. One hand, you can reach your third sphere of influence, two-handed, you can reach your second sphere of influence. your pommel is perfect for your third or inner sphere of influence." As she mentioned the spheres of influence, Schwein demonstrated by showing the standard reach with one hand versus two hands and then finally the reach of the pommel of her claymore around her. "Without a good foundation in martial arts, this is a good sword style for you."

Watching the fair-haired freebooter swing the blade about, Rita observed her stance first, and emulated it. Then she grasped the sword hilt with both hands, choking up on the guard then moving her hips experimentally to feel how they would add power to blows. Being sure to hold her back stiffly, she experimented with moving her shoulders to move the blade, trying to get a feel for what she was being taught. Then a few experimental swings, again, attempting to ape what she'd just seen, Rita took another honest crack at learning some swordplay.

"Okay, show me one more time, please?"

Schwein performed the basic swings a bit slower, then moved to help correct Rita as she performed them again. "Tighten your shoulder blades but do not strain your neck. Mnhei'sahe, please practice moving with your blades as well. You most get used to the weight and feel, ja?"

Nodding, Dox took a basic side stance letting her arms hang loose with the curved blades dangling low for a moment as she stretched her neck. The Baroness emphasized that she picked these blades due to Dox's existing fighting style. So she held the blades up in a fighting posture, beginning to swing them with her hands as if she were fighting bare handed, but the blades felt awkward in her hands.

Reorienting herself, she looked down at her hands and thought for a second before turning them around in her hands so the blades curved facing down. With the blades now facing outside of her hands, she resumed her basic warm-up exercises, moving quickly with the blades flowing more naturally with each swing.

Briefly distracted by Dox's display of martial prowess, Rita realized that at some point in the future, she was likely going to watch her friend do that to someone or something. Or see the bloody aftermath of it, both of which were sobering. But then, she was standing here with two meters of some sort of alloy polymer future something or other that made a big sword when you unfurled it. She liked the idea that it was a good choice for her lack of skill and general skittishness about melee combat in general. But the times had changed, and she had to change with them.

Plus she had a master swordswoman as a tutor. She'd be a fool not to indulge. Besides, it was spending time with the Baroness, which she always enjoyed the genial spacefaring scalawag's company.

Levering the sword blade, she copied the moves shown to her with reasonable aplomb, and she felt a bit more comfortable with the big blade. Taking some experimental swings, she adjusted her form a bit, then practiced a few thrusts to drive an opponent back, using a shuffle step, as staying planted was her strength with this form. "No, YOU move," she muttered under her breath.

"So... you two are already good, but I certainly need practice," Rita concluded, then she raised a finger in the air. "How about the three of us against a zombie horde? Trying to get from the farmhouse to the gas station two kliks away where we'd find the truck to take us to safety? We can make stands as well as move and fight, and it gives us opponents who are not each other to unite against. Along the way the Baroness can correct my form, and we can all blow off some stress. What do you say?"

Schwein thought it over, and nodded. "Ja, but with one modification. They are medieval zombies with basic arms and armors so you need to aim well and be ready to defend if needed. Computer, implement program Silent Hill three with the discussed changes, level one, horde size five hundred."

As the computer chirruped a few times and the program loaded sequentially, the bootylicious pirate smiled mischievously and sealed up her skull painted dome. They were definitely facing off against zombies in Silent Hill, but they were medieval zombies. They were on a bridge with a lake off to their left and a road leading in either direction. The obvious way forward though, they could see several buildings in the distance, including a well lit Texxon refueling station - a beacon of hope in the supernaturally red sunset sky.

"Right... unarmed opponents teach us nothing of sword fighting. Excellent point, Baroness, thank you." Rita tightened her grip on the broad sword as her helmet ratcheted down into place. "Hostile territory, ladies. Sensors on, helmets down, let's take the lay of the land, plot a course and move out."

Following their lead, Dox activated her helmet and visor as well and began scanning the area for the inevitable hostiles that she knew would be appearing at any moment. At the sound of the word 'zombies', the young pilot's anxious mind immediately went back to the disastrous mission to the infected Section 31 base, overrun by undead creatures.

As she thought back to that horror, her stomach tightened slightly as she had to take a quick moment to remind herself that this was only a holosim. After a few tense seconds, her HUD began registering movement in the thick mists ahead of them. "Picking up movement, thirty-nine meters ahead. Port and starboard, converging on our position."

Shuffling her feet slightly, Dox brought the twin Caitian blades up in readiness.

"So Dox is short range, Baroness, you are medium and I am long range. So strategically, as a trio, how do we organize these styles to fight mobs?" Paris asked. While she'd learned basic combat tactics years ago at the Academy, and she knew how to organize crew with phasers, this was an entirely different style of warfare, and in this case she'd come not to lead, but to learn. Of course, she was hoping the comely corsair's answer would not be 'piratical free for all'.

The Baroness didn't get where she was with piratical free-for-alls except in the tavern, and even then she had a plan. "Rita, you lead and go for groups and breaking the lines. Mnhei'sahe, focus on guarding the flanks and stay low and fast. I will be the rearguard. Stay in the first sphere of influence of each other as we move in a line." As she spoke, she returned her claymore to her back and pulled out her shortsword.

"Low I can do." Dox half-joked at the expense of her limited height. As she did, the advancing creatures began pushing through the dense mists and began scrambling towards the trio. Bouncing slightly on her heels, Dox was trying to psychic herself up for a style of combat that was largely unfamiliar to her. "Okay... here they come."

“Let’s start advancing, move to them unless we encounter too large a group and we need something solid at our backs other than the Baroness,” the gold-clad commando declared, then she started moving forward until they were nearly in range of the first undead. Clad in helms with broken and rusty chainmail, some bearing shields, the partially denuded corpses nonetheless wielded a variety of swords, knives, clubs and hammers, and they groaned as they moved, that much moreso when they caught sight of the bright and colorful Paris.

Adjusting her grip on the weapon, Rita swing in an overhand strike, which one of the zombies blocked with a shortsword. Deflecting off the block, Rita slid off the intervening blade to drive through one of the evil dead’s neighbors, cutting him in half before bringing up the flat of the blade to shove the lead zombie back. With some space cleared, she took a wide swing, taking advantage of the long blade as she’d been shown, and zombie parts scattered a bit, giving them ground to advance.

“Since vitals strikes are useless here, that means we need to work on what would be crippling or killing blows to be effective,” she noted, learning as she worked.

Following Rita's lead and the Baroness' instructions, Dox moved to the flank, twin blades raised at the first few creatures trying to get at them from the sides. The nearest creature swung down hard with a longsword that Dox deflected to her own side with a backhanded swing of her own that caused her to backpedal slightly.

For the first few seconds, the usually combat-ready young Romulan was limiting her moves purely to blocks as the creatures advanced, beginning to push her back.

Realizing she was beginning to feel a wave of panic coming on, Dox cursed loud in Rihan, "HNAVE!" and redoubled her efforts. Pushing back against the oncoming wave, she planted her foot against the shield of one creature shoving it back off its feet to topple a few of them on top of each other with a loud grunt.

As they began to regroup and get back up, Dox took advantage of the moment to move at them. Low and quick, as Schwein instructed, she began jabbing tightly just past the leading edges of the two advancing most creatures, her blades curved back against her forearms severing their necks on the sides in a grotesque display as they flumped to the ground, heads only connected still by a few inches of rotten flesh.

As another tried rushing past her to get to Rita's position, Dox spun down hard to her side and swung low, cleaving the creatures leg it two at the back of its knee forcing it to the ground where she could counter with the second blade to take it's head as well. But this left the anxious pilot open to a mace that came down hard against the armor plating on her back shoulder as she let out an angry yell of pain.

Countering, she rushed up, shoving the creature back as she dug her blades deep in its midsection through to its spine, pushing through its armor and throwing it back to the ground before righting herself for the next wave. She was breathing heavily now as she rotated her arm in its socket when she had been hit to stretch it back out.

Schwein nodded in satisfaction as she almost casually walked behind the two, slicing through stragglers with her shortsword with a fluidity and ease that would make any man weak in the knees. With a quick spin, she was inside the raised weapon of a zombie that was trying to threaten her and its head was just... Missing... And she was moving on as it slowly decided to fall over. "You are both learning well. Remember to strike not with your back, but with your shoulders and hips. Keep a good foundation and they will not move you. Use the whole weapon as a part of you. It is an extension of your body and an expression of your inner self, ja?"

The ’good foundation’ part was easy for Rita, as she liked not having to use footwork with the weapon in question. Trying to remember the moves and to use the right parts of her body were a challenge, but she was keeping at it, working to get the feel for the fighting style. As she drove a broad diagonal arc, then followed it by shifting her hips and shoulders to bring the big blade back up again, she chuckled. “I’m not sure if my sword fighting is a very flattering reflection of my personality…”

Bringing the wide blade across the crowd before her in an arc, it didn't fell any of them, but it did back them off, which she had to admit was definitely what she wanted- a bit of room to breathe and choose her next strike.

While Rita pressed her attack, at the flank, Dox re-centered herself, taking a deep breath before continuing to press forward. Tucking in low, she dodged a heavy axe to one side, and began thinking the way her training in the Romulan martial art of Llaekh-ae'rl taught her to. She could hear her mother's words in the back of her mind as she moved, 'If an arm attacks you, kill the arm.'

As the axe head slammed past her side, in one sweeping motion, she brought down the nearest blade to sever the arm of the creature wielding it. As she did, she swung in with her second, short curved blade to cleave the top of its skull off while it pondered its missing arm. And no longer second-guessing herself, she simply kept moving.

Bringing herself back over, a double swipe to her left beheaded another creature with it's weapon raised high, causing it to stumble back upon another two. She was weaving left to right, either disarming or incapacitating each wave as it approached, taking a step further with each strike.

As they continued to fight along, Schwein continued her lessons. "Rita, bend your knees a bit more for stability. There are nine strike points in swordplay and you will need to master movements for all nine for offense and defense. They are up, down, left, right, the for angles between those, and stabby center. Shorter blades can move between them seamlessly but long blades must plan the next block or attack after every swing."

As she spoke, the gold armored pirate demonstrated the nine cuts with her own sword as she cut down a few zombies in the process. Then she used her free hand to rip the sword out of a zombie's hand and threw it into the skull of another zombie that was trying to sneak up on Rita, lodging it in its skull. She then delivered a quick backhanded slice to the disarmed zombie. "A claymore is most powerful in left, right, and top strikes. These are good for crushing your foes and driving them before you."

“Hopefully not to hear the lamentations of the women,” Rita grunted as she recalled the previous lessons, reinforced by what the Baroness was instructing her to do now which paralleled those earlier lessons. The nonstop swinging of the heavy blade, even with the power assistance of the armor, was wearing on her. Swinging wide up high, she decapitated a few even as she stumbled, tangled up in a zombie she had cut in half whose upper torso was still trying to gnaw its way through her armored boot. Stomping on its skull, Rita scanned the locale.

“I need a breather… what do you say we make for that clearing by the pond, buy ourselves a minute to rest?” Her shoulders were burning a bit and her grip was getting a bit shaky, which Rita knew was a warning sign. While her armor could pump her with a stim, better to function under her own power, for the most part, she reasoned. Placekicking one zombie, she smacked another with the flat of the wide blade, driving its skull into the sky like a baseball to provide them with an opening.

Continuing to slash at the oncoming hoard, Dox was breathing heavily when she nodded and called back, "I second... that idea."

"Nein. The water is an ambush. Make for the wrecked cars on the side of the road up ahead." She pointed to a trio of rusted out hulks they weren't too far from that looked like a monument to tetanus, but safe enough.

Glancing quickly in the direction Schwein pointed towards, Dox began side-stepping to keep the creatures from bottlenecking the trio as they moved.

"Got it!" The crimson-clad Lieutenant called back as she began ducking Low, slashing at the knees of the oncoming horde, trying to force enough of them to the ground to create a temporary barricade at their side. It slowed their advance down, but just a little bit as Dox began to move towards their target.

“Okay, not that I’m doubting you, but my scanners aren’t showing any hostiles over there. How can you know it’s an ambush?” Shoving a few of the zombies into one another, Rita skewered three of them, then realized she’d made a mistake as she lacked the strength to pull the blade free of them. Instead, she lowered the point and brought up the hilt, causing bones to crunch and pop as ichor sprayed about them while the great blade demolished the corpses through which it was currently embedded.

While she wasn’t winded, the upper body workout was a lot more severe than the pretty pilot was accustomed to, and her muscles were hitting the fatigue point fast. Letting go with her right hand, she reached over her shoulder to produce the cutlass she stored there, the bell guard closing about her fist as she grasped it. The smaller, lighter blade was less strain to use, but the tactics were considerably different, and she quickly realized her tactical mistake as the horrors were now getting closer to her.

"I use this scenario for exercise," the Baroness replied as she pulled out her claymore as well and decided to help clear out the path a bit and to explain some basic dual wielding techniques. "When dual wielding like that, use your smaller blade as a tool to support your longer blade. Like this, ja?"

As Schwein swept through the zombies with broad side to side strokes with her main hand claymore, cutting in front of Rita, she used her offhand shortsword as more of a tool to perform basic stabs with to finish off those her claymore didn't outright kill, or to parry the weapons in the way of her claymore to clear its path and in her own defense.

Locking her armor's fingers in place around the textured hilt saved Rita a bit of strength, and she worked to emulate the tactics and strokes the Baroness was employing. Sure enough, the bell-guard on the cutlass was quite handy for an off-hand weapon, and while she was still clumsy with it, Rita could begin to see the applications.

"Someday I'll tell my grandkids that I was trained in swordplay by the Baroness von Alcott. Hopefully, I'll have the kind of grandkids who'll ask, 'Who's that?' and then Gramma will be off on one of her wild stories. Of course, I hope you show up to illustrate them every once in a while. Hopefully, the Captain will institute Christmas at the Fortress... that way we'll all come together no matter how... get off me you freak! Uhng! Dammit... gnuff!" Rita struggled to keep the big sword moving as they staggered the last few meters to the junked cars, and one of the random armored zombies nailed her with a mace, scratching her helm's clear dome. She punched it away with her off hand and punted its skull like a football, but she was breathing heavily and sweating, even in her environmentally-controlled exploration armor.

"My arms feel like molten lead. Angry, hot molten lead. Much heavy, very ouchie," Rita planted the point of the big sword in the dirt and leaned heavily on the wide crossbar. "Two minutes. M'beggin ya. Ohhhh, mama."

Coming up around the side, Dox was breathing heavy in her armor with her blades still raised as she backed up to Rita's position.

Schwein dispatched a few more, executing a dangerous looking whirlwind maneuver that let the momentum of her sword and body shear through at least half a dozen zombies before sheathing her weapons and slapping the side of her large skull painted dome, sliding it back out of her face. Smiling at the other two, she didn't even look out of breath, nor did she have a drop of sweat on her. "This is a good warmup, ja? You are both doing very well. You will have muscle memory by morning. Next, we will have to decide to go through the center of the horde or face the boss character - an undead kraken in the water."

"That 'Laughing Murder' of yours... meant to work quick and put people down, not march across a battlefield with it huh?" Rita popped her own helmet, and leaned heavily on the crossbar of her sword. Bringing up her armored hand, she mopped at her face and up under her visor. "I vote the horde. We'll learn more swordsmanship that way. That's what you meant by a trap, eh? An undead kraken is number 347 as to why I carry a large multifunction grenade launcher on my back when I do dangerous things these days, instead of just the phaser and a miniskirt."

Retracting her helmet for a moment, Dox kept her back to Rita's position while keeping her eyes on the path they had just come through with one blade still slightly raised. "Yeah... My.... my murder stopped laughing after about the first twenty-five of these things. But, yeah. I'm voting with 'horde' too."

Rita's reference to 'laughing murder' was a joke at the expense of the English translation of Llaekh-ae'rl, the Romulan martial art Dox studied. Turning with a slight smirk towards her Commander, Dox continued with a chuckle. "And, ya' know, it's not like I gave it the pretentious ass name."

"Better than mine. The school of 'try not to get killed and run faster', renowned throughout the galaxy." Taking a deep breath, Rita took a few experimental stretches, wincing at the tightness of her upper body muscles, and she could feel that this was a heck of a core workout. "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. Let's hit a half dose of stim and a little steroid, pop a few asprin, get out there and learn how to be dangerous acquaintances- what do you say? Well, more dangerous in your cases..."

Turning back to the path, Dox brought her helmet and visor back up as she shook her arms out. "Aye, Commander." She was tired and sore and fighting back a wave of intense anxiety, but she pushed through that to restore her focus as she brought the Caitian blades back up.

Snapping her helmet into place, Rita checked the time- it was passing outside this holodeck, and she needed to be aware. She checked the scans of the combat theater, so she wouldn't be surprised. Activating a mild stimulant with some analgesic to ease her sore muscles and a bit of steroidal influx- after all, if she was building muscle she may as well capitalize on it. Taking a high over-body stretch, she took a few long, full body stretches. "Zombieland survival rule #7- limber up."

Stepping over to the wide long blade she'd chosen, the sweaty Starfleet siren yanked at it, not getting it out of the ground on the first try. Nor the second. By the third, she worked it back and forth to loosen the earth's grip on it, and she managed to yank her sword free.

"Good to know..." She quipped, sheathing the cutlass on her back and doubling up again on the grip of the sword she recalled she'd nicknamed when she had chosen it from the armory. Hefting it, she felt like she was starting to get the hang of just how to fight with the big chunk of metal. Which something told her she'd need to know how to do before long. "Okay, time to live up to your name, Overkill."

Looking slightly over her shoulder, Dox shot Rita a quick grin and a light chuckle. The rotund Romulan found the leggy Blond anachronism's penchant for giving things whimsical names aggressively charming.

"Fitting..." She said. "I like it." Before returning her attention to the task at hand, and the oncoming horde of heavily armed creatures converging on them.

"It's not quite Fang and Claw over there, but I'm learning to like it." Wobbling her head about, Rita Paris exhaled long and loc, centering herself with a simple expression of a complex concept of meditation. When she was through, her chin snapped up and she fixed Schwein with a determined expression.

"All right, Baroness, I think we mere mortals have caught our breath. Let's move," Paris declared, stepping forward in the lead to take command and point, the long wide blade declaring her position in the battle triangle they were forming, as in the distance the Romero virus victims clad in varying stages of arms and armor of a medieval nature turned at their approach, brandishing rusted swords and crude implements of destruction. Flipping on the searchlight mounted on her shoulder, the gold-clad avenger made it obvious to the shambling mockeries of life just where they were, and began drawing them toward the landing party, in her hopes to spread the density of the horde out a bit.

“Come get some, you primitive screwheads!” Rita muttered, making a reference that only she would get.

The silver-haired pirate pulled free her short sword and resealed her armor, preparing for the big push through the bulk of the undead horde. As the moaning and slavering undead closed in on the trio, the Baroness von Alcott offered a crooked piratical grin to her Starfleet compatriots.

"Next time we must visit my goblin training program, ja? Much more fun!"

Onboard the United Federation of Planets starship the USS Hera, all members of the Security and Tactical team served in guard duty from time to time. There was a posting at the turbolift that could access the Intel pod, as it was a restricted area on the starship. Main Engineering on Deck 23 had three different guard rotations, stationed there in case of trouble at the mighty starship’s very core. There were also two VIP quarters on Deck 8 outside of which had a 24-hour guard posting on them. One held the goddess Hera, which many of the Security personnel had their doubts about. The other held apparently no one at all, as every shift was required to take tricorder readings on a security sweep once per shift, and no one and nothing was there.

Thus this mid-shift on the starship Hera found the Will’I’ms sister, V’Nus and S’Rina, arguing outside the empty quarters between one another, over the duty they perceived as unnecessary, pointless and beneath them.

Standing stoically, V'Nus kept her attention ahead of her as she pulled out the tricorder out of its small holster on the side of her hip and handed it to her sister. "It is your turn."

The taller sister eyed her fellow guardian with barely concealed disdain. “This is not warrior’s work. Scanning is for scientists and engineers, not a warrior born. What have you done to bring such dishonor upon our house that the Commander has relegated us to this insipid and mundane task?” Petty Officer 3rd class S’Rina grumbled in their native Klingon tongue.

Holding the tricorder out at her side that much closer to her irate sister, V'nus replied dryly. "I would not know, seeing as how I performed the scans and logged them as ordered when it was my turn without complaint. Every officer in our department has been tasked thusly, Sister. That makes the task our duty, regardless of it irritates you or not."

The calmer of the two tilted her head slightly toward her simmering sibling with the slightest hint of what only a Klingon would see as a smile. "Now SCAN... or do you wish to bring actual dishonor to us by disobeying our Commanders orders?"

Glaring daggers at her older sister, who always seemed to get the better of her in such disagreements, S’Rina growled her answer as she snatched the tricorder from her shorter sibling. “It is a fool’s errand! We scan for nothing, for there is nothing there. We stand guard outside empty quarters, wasting our time and talents when we could be doing so much more.” Noting that her sister was, as she tended to do through such diatribes from her more vocally complaining guardsman, simply waiting patiently, S’Rina turned to punch in her security code into the door panel to unseal the hatch.

“Useless waste of time,” she grumbled as she turned on the tricorder and moved about the empty and untouched quarters, that were obviously bereft of any presence, physical or psychic, aside from the glowering Klingon warrior in the mustard-colored Starfleet uniform. When she had completed the scan, which showed nothing, of course, she filed the report and made the entry into the log. Stepping back outside again, she tossed the tricorder at her annoying calm sibling.

“The thing is done,” S’Rina grumbled. “These decadent and oversized quarters are once again proven to be free of anything interesting, so that we may continue to guard it like unworthy Targs at the door to their master’s chambers.”

Catching the tricorder, V'Nus calmly tucked it back in its place and folded her arms behind her back. "I've never seen Targs this... what is the human's word for it... yappy. You go on like one of their tiny little dogs, barking at the wind."

Then, pausing for a moment, she continued. "You know as well as I that this ship is like no other. Even within the Empire, there is no ship that is host to as many wonders. Just yesterday, we stood guard at the doors of a goddess. This room receives visitors. We have seen Lieutenant Dox and Doctor Dael enter with trays of food and leave empty handed."

“There is no miracle there, soft-headed fool,” S’Rina shot back. “They choose to take advantage of the empty quarters for somewhere private to dine, for whatever reason they choose. And the human woman is no goddess, she is just an intelligence asset. Do not be fooled by these explanations the officers use to validate their behaviors. The soft-skins always try to justify their plans with outlandish explanations, when simple truth would work better.”

“Compare me to a yappy little dog again and you will find out just how hard this dog bites,” the Amazonian Klingon woman finished, still standing at parade rest as she did so.

Ignoring her sister’s threat entirely, V'Nus instead commented on the prior dismissal. "Of course. Because when I wish to dine in private, I always take my food slightly down the corridor to a nearly identical room so as to add the vitally important layer of a security screening to my meal."

“They are officers. Who knows what they are truly doing. Is there anything in these quarters? No. Do scans reveal anything? No. Does it stand to reason that somehow the officers have something going on here? Quite probably. Will the likes of us ever know? I doubt that very much,” S’Rina was quick to dismiss anything that did not suit her particular worldview, and this situation clearly qualified. While she was fond of questioning nonsensical orders, puzzles and mysteries were not her forte.

"Very well, then..." V'Nus replied with an exasperated sigh. "What task would you prefer we be doing at this exact moment that would be worthy of your time?"

Without hesitation, the tall Klingon woman began listing off better uses for their time. “Training the other security officers in hand to hand or weapons training, as so few of them seem to have a passion for such things. Weight training to grow stronger. Endurance training. Combat drills. Fighting through combat simulations in the armory. Practicing zero-G maneuvering to overcome our natural aversion to it. Sitting through a mission briefing for our next mission. Studying for the next petty officer examination. Field stripping our weapons. Customizing and reinforcing our battle armor. Just to name a few.”

An easy question with plenty of answers made S’Rina feel quite self-satisfied.

In spite of enjoying smugly contradicting her more hair-trigger sister for the reaction, V'Nus let out a slightly resigned sigh. "While I too would rather be doing something more... active... this is our duty. and we are honor bound to fulfill that duty. I would not object to any or all of those activities upon the completion of our shift."

"Well, there is that to look forward to then," S'Rina replied, then silence held sway for a moment. "I saw the Commander and the little Lieutenant in the armory, both armored but lacking heavy weaponry. I believe they were going to combat train. Why do you suppose it is that the Commander does not train with us?"

"It would be... inappropriate to make suppositions regarding the motives of our superior officer. She is our Commander and we have both seen her lead the charge in the heat of battle against the Valkyrie. That is enough for me. Perhaps one day she will choose to honor us in training with her." V'Nus was clearly curious herself but was working to maintain her professional bearing. It was an easier task with the flight officers on the deck, however, than it was with her own sister.

"Perhaps she finds us... wanting. Not yet ready in some way?" Her expression was slightly dour as her imagination went off.

"Hrmph!" S'Rina grunted in reply. "Perhaps she fears our prowess and is afraid we will humble her before her troop. She has seen us fight, so she knows we are stronger, faster and trained from birth in the arts of combat. Perhaps it is not we who are lacking, but she, eh sister?"

At this, V'Nus snapped her head to the side and shot her taller sister a glare. "You forget yourself, sister. This is not the Empire. This is Starfleet, and we have both sworn our loyalty to it and this vessel. And in Starfleet, one must be more than stronger and faster to be in Command. Being a warrior is but one part of a larger picture here. And that is a picture we must learn to see."

"Ah, you refer to the short skirt and those ridiculous breasts, and the constant smiling..." S'Rina began, then realized that glare from her sister meant that she was crossing a line that V'Nus would be honor bound to challenge her to defend the honor of their mutual commander, who S'Rina's words were impugning her honor. "I yield, I yield, sister. Yes, there is more to command here than strength in battle and cunning. My oath is my bond, and I serve, on my honor. But still, I can question, eh? This ship has more mysteries than answers. A Romulan, after all. And the Commander's file says that she is 163 years old. What happened at the base where the Security force turned on itself, where the file is sealed? Why is every woman on this vessel a lesbian?!?"

"All that means is the entire ship is open for sexual conquest, sister. Or does your warrior spirit not extend quite that far? I know you do not shrink from a little competition?" V'Nus replied with a hearty laugh from deep in her chest.

"I have yet to see a male I would consider capable of surviving foreplay, including on our own team. Most of the rest are scientists and engineers or healers, and they are all so... so soft and pink and squishy. I have yet to find a male worthy of my time on this assignment. Unless there is a great warrior in Operations I have yet to encounter. I could look it up..." S'Rina started reaching for her handheld tablet, but stopped herself. "Qo'. Not on duty. Vigilant."

"Indeed. The best warriors on this ship are clearly female. It is interesting, indeed, but if there is a male on this ship worthy of your attention, I do not doubt your hunting prowess to find him, sister." As V'Nus spoke, she contemplated the rest of what her sister had said.

"As for the rest, if we are meant to know the mysteries of this ship, they will be revealed to us. Until then, I am satisfied to do my duty." As she spoke, she tilted her head slightly. "Still... I'd gladly kill a pack of wild targs to find out just what is really in this ba'Qa room."

"I fear these mysteries may be the death of us," S'Rina shuddered, as if Hegh himself had just walked by.

Hegh, the hooded figure with a scythe, the personification of death itself.

Death, who glided past the two guards, swinging back into her assigned quarters on the USS Hera.

Looking at her sister, V'Nus felt the eerie chill herself and the pair went blankly silent as they returned to attention. In the Chambers, Death appeared, stepping through the sealed doors as if they weren't there to return to her new sanctuary.

Having finished with a recent plague, the incarnation of Death took off her new cape with a flourish and rested it on a chair, the gilded lettering on the cowl in clear view of the door so that the next time the two sisters scanned inside they would get the message, 'Can you see me now?' As it was a recent gift from Asa, while she wore it it was invisible, but taking it off, it was visible and likely very creepy.

She then popped open a bottle of fizzy drink and a few cookies that had been left on the table for her and plopped down on the couch. "I swear, those two bicker more than a pair of old ladies... Taxes, remind me to ask for a pen and paper that normal people can see so I can leave a note next time I leave for a few days." At her request, there was a ghostly whinny as if her pale horse was not far off.

"Now to get back to my vacation and watch some more real-life drama..."

Looking In the long bathroom mirror of her quarters, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox struggled to pull off the form-fitting, unyielding black undersuit of her EVA armor after a particularly brutal training session in the armories holosim suite. It was an exercise In sword fighting with Commander Rita Paris under the tutelage of the Baroness Schwein von Alcott.

As a fellow Baroness herself with the Captain's Artan pirate family, sword fighting was something the rotund Romulan was going to need to drastically improve with if she hoped to be useful in Enalia Telvan's upcoming tribunal. An attempt to wrest control of the Artan family from Enalia's tyrannical mother, the current Pirate Queen. And since Rita Paris had volunteered to be the Captain's conscience during the upcoming trials, she wanted training as well.

And today, the training involved fighting through a horde of holographic zombies armed with medieval weapons. As Dox finally pried the skin tight black mesh material of her EVA undersuit off of her shoulders, she winced slightly. Turning to look revealed a deep, greenish black bruise along her right shoulder blade about thirty centimeters across.

During the exercise, Dox had absorbed a mace blow to her shoulder from one of the creatures. And while her armor protected her from serious harm, the impact was enough to leave a mark. As she continued to strip, she inspected the rest of her body. Her knuckles had a similar greenish tint from bruises suffered in a similar Holodeck exercise with Paris wherein they engaged in a bar fight. Obstensively, these Holodeck excursions were because Rita had been asking the more skilled young Romulan for lessons on how to fight. But the litany of bruises up and down Dox's body confirmed that, ultimately, she had been enjoying the process.

Walking over to the replicator, Dox ordered up a basic pain reliever and ointment to relieve the bruising that Doctor Asa Dael had programmed for just such an occasion. Bruises were something Dox had more often than not, it seemed. And as much as she hated to admit it, she enjoyed what she did to get them.

Thanks to a chaotic, emotionally charged childhood, a complicated relationship with her Romulan heritage, and a repressed adolescent, Dox had clung to a lot of pent up anger that often expressed itself In self-harm. But she preferred to let that anger out in more aggressive ways. And bruises simply meant something got done, in her mind.

Of course, finding ways to hurt herself was nothing new to the anxious aviatrix. It had been a problem of some depth for most of her life. When she was a young girl growing up with her mother on the smuggling ship, the Forager, she used to sit in the airlock with her hand on the button to open the door to space. And when she was feeling just slightly less self-destructive than that, she began the bad habit of hitting herself.

It was a habit borne out of a depressing need to vent her anger and frustration but to not have that behavior noticed by her domineering mother. Jaieh Dox could be a cruel taskmistress that demanded exceptional behavior and performance out of her daughter in all aspects of life. Be it her general studies, the study of languages, piloting, or in the study of the Romulan martial art of Llaekh-ae'rl, the young girls mother accepted nothing but excellence and had no patience for her emotional well being or the festering seeds of self-loathing that had taken root in her.

Ordering up a hot honey tea from the replicator, Dox took it over to the couch where she threw her crimson robe on and sat down to look out the stars and wait for her newfound partner in all things, Mona Gonadie, to return from her shift on the Bridge. As she waited, her mind continued to drift back to her younger days before she had found the bizarre emotional stability of life she now enjoyed on the U.S.S. Hera.

Thinking of her mother, she thought of how she had learned that hitting a bulkhead could be heard throughout the ship. And hitting the flimsy pillow of her bedding didn't help her relieve any of the tension that felt like it was in a constant state of building in her stomach. It begged for release, and after a while she began releasing it on herself. Sharp punches to her own legs were where it started. Then her middle, and eventually it moved to a knee-jerk habit of punching herself in the face when her anxiety spiraled out of control. In spite of her intense physical training, she could never fully express her anger even there, under her mother's watchful eye.

She had to be an obedient Romulan girl.

So she hit herself in private, learning exactly how much force hurt enough to feel satisfying without leaving a visible bruise. After a time, the punching began evolving into smalling her head into anything that both hurt and was quiet. But both methods eventually left too many tell-tale signs. Swollen cheeks and the effects of ongoing, mild concussions began to become noticeable and the angry young girl found herself repressing even those outlets until all that was left was the airlock again.

Ultimately, Dox decided to live as was evident by her current presence on the Hera. She took a sip of her tea as she stared at the streaking stars of high warp and returned to her thoughts. She thought back to when she was new to Earth. Almost seventeen and freed of her life as a Smuggler after she'd sabotaged the Forager to get them caught by Starfleet, the young Mnhei'sahe Dox, then called Melanie, was sent to live with the parents of the human man she believed was her father.

It was a tumultuous period in her young life, where a newfound taste of freedom coupled with hormones and years of emotional repression exploded in a cocktail of instability. Thanks to surgical and genetic modifications she would only learn of years later, she didn't LOOK Romulan, but she still was and the locals never let her forget it. And while Terran standard was one of the languages her mother drilled into her aside from her native Rihan, she spoke with a thick and noticeable accent for years still.

Dealing with all of that and forced to not only attend a human High School in a small town in rural Ohio, but to also make weekly visits with a therapist to try and deal with her traumas, Dox learned many ways to fight against her situation. High School was a parade of a depressing combination of boredom and anger. The lessons felt remedial compared to her Mother's tutoring and she had to constantly struggle against her training that told her to brutalize those that were cruel to her. So she again had to find new outlets for her anger.

No longer under her mother's watchful eye, it was easy enough to slip away from her adopted Grandparents to practice Llaekh-ae'rl. A nearby barn housed bails of hay and a makeshift practice dummy and an easy to break into school nurses office made concealing bruises she'd given herself easy enough. And an overly active nightlife gave her plenty more opportunities to practice as she found herself hovering as close to her old life as a smuggler on her own time as she could, which left her knuckles regularly bruised. She wasn't happy, but she was at least letting her anger out to play.

Of course, the thing about anger is that releasing it doesn't make it go away. It just feeds it and makes it stronger. Which made her behavior at school worse and her forced therapy sessions even less productive. Dismissively, she would either say nothing for an hour or speak in Rihan exclusively just to be antagonistic. It was a long and slow downward spiral that seemed to be heading in a very bad direction.

But on the Hera, things were better. In spite of Dox's immense stress over the upcoming mission and her fears over potentially not surviving it, she actively wanted to survive. She had been building something she had never truly felt before and she wanted to keep it. She had friends, she had the beginnings of true family and a place that felt like what a home was supposed to. So why was she still so angry all the time? Why did she feel this unending need to let out the long simmering anger inside of her to her own detriment?

Stiffly, she pulled herself up from the couch and began slowly walking around the quarters that we now shared between herself and Mona Gonadie, looking at some of the new decor Mona had decorated with. Along the far wall were the two shelves Dox herself had put in. But they were now much more filled. There was a selection of brilliantly colored Miradonian plants that reminded her of her mate. On the shelves, were framed photos.

The photos of Dox and her mother remained, along with the photo of the command crew as it was when Dox joined the ship, with too many faces now gone after only a few months. In a larger frame, a 3-D image of Dox and Mona from Thex and Tathaa's wedding just a few weeks ago, broad smiles across their face as Asa Dael could be seen leaping up in the background to get into the picture.

Also on the shelves were the crystal eggs Dox had gifted Mona on their second date and the faux-wooden base of the holographic parrot Mona had given Dox on their first date. Looking at the pictures made the red-headed Romulan smile, thinking of everything she now had and everything she now had to lose.

Across the room on the dining room table was the weathered box that contained the twin, curved Caitian blades that the Baroness had gifted Dox earlier. As she looked at it, she thought back to the combat she had just been involved in and she hated herself just a little for enjoying herself. She would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she still enjoyed going to the Holodeck to fight in holographic bars. She didn't want to admit it, but she liked it. She liked the release. And that scared her.

It scared her because she didn't want to be that person anymore. She didn't want to become her mother. To be a smuggler or a criminal... or a killer.

What she wanted was to be a woman. A Starfleet officer. A partner worthy of Mona's love. A friend to those that trusted her. She wanted to be better, but as she walked, her back spasmed in pain slightly to remind her that she still had far too far to go.

She still had too many bruises. Bruises on the outside...

And on the inside.

A smile was on the andorians face as her small orion dancing troop left the holodeck. With the threat of having to take on a being as powerful as gaia on the horizon, she need breaks like this take her mind off it.

The chief engineer sat on the edge of the stage for a while holding the pendant with her mates hair in her hand. Things had been going so well recently. She hoped this wasn't the end. Things had started to go well now and the thought of it ending her was troubling her. No matter what she could do it was nagging away at the back of her head.

Hearing the door open she looked up to see the ship's captain. " Oh hello, captain. Sorry if you were booked for the holodeck just been thinking." She said honestly.

"No, it's ok. I wouldn't be here if you weren't. I hope you don't mind if I join you." Barely waiting for a nod of affirmation, Enalia sat down next to her friend on the edge of the stage. "Sorry if I was interrupting something."

" No just thinking. Ever since my bonding ceremony I've been feeling worries and the whole prospect of facing Gaia hasn't helped. I guess it's a part of being married the constant worrying about your loved ones." The engineer replied with a slight grin.

"I know what you mean," Enalia replied, patting her friend's shoulder. "Seems to be a part of married life though. My first few missions after I married Maica I was so worried about anything happening to the ship... She can't evacuate like everyone else, after all. But these are the risks we take having family aboard with us and I think that's what makes us stronger in the end. Knowing that we're not alone both at work and at the end of the day."

" I'm sure it does Enalia. " the andorian replied as she let out a sigh. " You know i could never imagine myself here. About to go up against a titan of all things. They sure didn't cover that in the recruitment vids."

The spotted woman chuckled softly at that admission. "We do a lot of things they don't warn you about, don't they? We've survived worse though. We'll pull through this just fine. We've got the best crew in the fleet, after all."

" Indeed. We have a great crew, a great ship and a fantastic captain." the andorian responded with a smile.

"Speaking of fantastic..." Enalia pulled out a small PaDD and handed it off to Thex. "The Captain of the Amaterasu is about half Andorian and I took a few liberties. It turns out that for a Miranda class, there are a couple male bond pairs aboard, if you'd like to give them a call."

The andorian responded with a grin as she took the padd and had a look at it. " Thanks, captain I'll do that. Life does seem to be going my way at the moment. Maybe Hera's presence is doing something. "

"She does seem to have that effect on the crew. Pregnancy rates are through the roof." Enalia chuckled softly.

" Oh, i know. The amount of training my anear having to do is extraordinary. Are quarters are full of books and padds to keep track of all of it." The andorian replied with a chuckle.

Enalia nodded along in agreement. "Yeah, we've had to make a few policy changes and start converting space for child care and the like. I just hope we're not endangering them unjustly, being on this ship."

" Don't have to remind me captain it's my boys rebuilding one of the deck. " The andorian replied with a grin. " I am wondering about that. Our ship has encountered things that i wouldn't want my kids to see."

"Yes it has... But I think because of that we'll fight harder." Enalia turned to look at her blue friend with a twinkle in her eye. "What do you think?"

" Yeah. I know if someone threatened my zygote's they be eating their meals with a straw at the very least. " The andorian responded.

"See there? Plus security is better trained now. I think we'll be fine." Enalia grinned and got up from her perch. "Well, I have dinner waiting for me. See you in the morning."

" See you later Enalia." Thex said as she stood up and followed the captain from the holodeck stopping only to close the program.

" No that can't be right check it again." called the sapphire engineer from her station in her usual home. She could see the ships engine readouts and were wrong. Plasma flow was working as normal, but these levels were far to high. Even with the ship's engines running red hot from it many days on warp 9.4 the plasma seemed to be heating up to levels it shouldn't be reaching.

" Ma'am raw sample confirms it the plasma is reaching levels it shouldn't be...." The crew who had drawn a small cylinder of plasma from the plasma flow to examine, but much to her horror the cylinder exploded on the scanner. The small devices shields had stopped anyone from being hit, but the plasma was now burning through the scanner, table and floor.

" What the hell...." Thex thought as she looked at what was going on.

" Boss we have something. There's something in the plasma flow. " Came Ellena Jann one of the newly joined engineers.

The andorian was over to the human's workstation in the blink of an eye and her eyes stared at what was on the screen. Somehow a bacteria was in the warp cores plasma flow and it appeared to be heating up the warp plasma.

" Thex to the bridge we have a big problem here." She said as she tapped her combadge.

On the bridge of the USS Hera, Commander Paris was on duty, and she'd been dreading a call like this. She'd made the call to push the engines, and if something was going wrong with the engines, it would be her fault. Jaw clenching amongst other thing, Paris tabbed the comm on the command chair. "Bridge here. What's going on, Chief? Talk to me."

"Commander we have a serious problem here." Thex said into her commbadge as she began to try and work out how to fix the newly-developing situation. "Somehow a bacteria has gotten into the warp plasma flow. It's causing the warp plasma to heat up so much it's going to start damaging the warp core. Thing is, it looks like the bacteria needs to be kept at a certain flow, or it will cause the bacteria to explode."

"Route your findings through to Science, Sickbay and the Intel Pod. At the current rate of escalation, how long before we look like we're going to blow?" Uncovering the culprit would be in reviewing security footage from both the Hera and DS9. For now the problem at hand needed to be dealt with. Half-turning to Ensign SAG at Ops, Paris ordered, "Call the Captain to the bridge."

"Already done. If everything stays the same we have thirty minutes before the warp core goes boom," the andorian explained calmly as her eyes were fixed on the screen. Her men were beginning to input coolant into the flow. It might buy them a few more minutes that she'd not report, since the overheating might just overwhelm the coolant.

"Can we flush the system into an alternate system to maintain the flow rate in a contained loop?" Paris responded into the comms. "Meanwhile, let's see if we can identity the bacteria to find a way to combat it. Keep her steady and we'll work together to find a solution, Chief sh'Zoarhi." Flipping the tab on the direct line to Main Engineering that was still a standard of captain's chairs since the days of the NX, Paris began addressing the bridge. "Helm, keep us on course, project where we're liable to be in a worst case scenario in the next 40 minutes and see if we're going to be a hazard to shipping lanes or star systems that we need to warn. Science, we need an analysis of that bacteria, and please coordinate with Sickbay to find an effective antibacterial."

From the helm, Lieutenant Dox called back, "Aye Commander." while working feverishly on scanning their course ahead.

''There is no known organic lifeform of natural origin defined as bacterial that can sustain the temperatures of a plasma flow, let alone affect it,'' Sonak reported without moving his eyes from his sensors readout. ''There are therefore two possibilities: an artificial bacterial-sized system designed to exist and alter plasma, or one existing in a different domain and still able to affect material existence from there. I am modifying sensor calibration to look for metaphasic signature and non-organic composition and extending scanners to other subspace domains to look for a corresponding source.''

"Paris to Chief Clemens," the gold-clad commander called, sending a message to the Intel pod. "Someone has deliberately indirectly sabotaged us, Chief. I would very much like to know why. Check the report from Main Engineering, review footage and get to the bottom of this. You have the full resources of Security at hand. We want to know how, why, when, where and what, and we need to know now, because it might give us a chance for later."

The response was immediate- the angry drawl was tighter, and more clipped than his usual tone.

"Ah'm on it, ma'am. Pullin' every damned thing. Ah'll letcha know th'second somethin' matches up." He could be heard yelling at someone to grab somethingorother as the connection closed.

""Commander..." Dox called back over her shoulder. "At our current speed and course, we will be at coordinates 4357 point 8167. That puts us in intersection with the Elon system. A warp core breach there would create a sub-space shockwave that would destabilize the orbits of three satellites of the Elon star, including Elon 4 which has a Federation colony on it with 15,000 residents on it."

Running the numbers, Dox continued. "We can change course, but we're also going to be passing through a series of high traffic shipping lanes, which limits our safe options."

Sonak turned towards the command dais.

''There is another option; plot a course perpendicular to the galaxy's ecliptic.''

As he spoke, he projected a schematics of the entire galaxy on the main viewer and his proposed course plotting as he explained.

''Although the Milky Way is roughly sixty-one thousand parsecs in diameter, it is however no more than six hundred parsecs in thickness. Of course, even at warp 9, we will come nowhere near the edge, even following this trajectory; it would take us approximately fifty-nine years to reach the Great Galactic Barrier, even following this flight angle. Moreover, at such a sustained high speed, it would burn out our engines, beyond our capability to repair them, long before we would get there. But at least, following this path, it would quickly clear us away from any star system.''

The expression on the face of the First Officer was that of surprise, as she hadn't considered the simple logic. But her pride was not wounded nor was she surprised that the brilliant Chief Science Officer had pointed out the facts seemingly so casually, yet so effectively.

Such was life with Sonak.

"Miss Dox, following Mr. Sonak's recommended course change, what's the worst case scenario of time lost on our intercept course with Gaia assuming we survive the next 26 minutes?" Paris redirected to the helm.

From the helm, Dox was adjusting the ships course according to Sonak's direction, pulling the Hera away from potentially devastating a populated system. "Course corrected, Commander. Calculating... Worst case scenario is approximately an additional 6 hours to get back on course if we eat all 26 minutes at this course and velocity."

That was when Captain Telvan strode out onto the bridge and headed for her occupied chair, a PaDD in hand. "Status report!"

"An as yet unknown agent was introduced to our plasma stream by parties and methods unknown," Paris explained as she stood up, relinquishing the command chair to the Captain. "The effect is that the plasma system is overheating, which is complicated by the plasma's tendency to explode when the flow rate is reduced. We have about 24 more minutes give or take til the warp core goes critical. Mister Sonak has plotted a course that should keep up clear of inhabited systems, Miss Dox has estimated that changing course to accommodate might lose us six hours at worst assuming we're still intact to change course when the crisis is averted."

"Science is analyzing the agent now which may be an artificial bacterial-sized system designed to exist and alter plasma, or one existing in a different domain and still able to affect material existence from there. I am modifying sensor calibration to look for metaphasic signature and non-organic composition and extending scanners to other subspace domains to look for a corresponding source." The last part was a direct quote from Sonak a moment ago, and halfway through the explanation Rita looks startled that it was still coming out of her flawlessly, but that too was life with Sonak.

"Intel is looking into how this happened and Security is on alert. Order,s Captain?" The gold-clad commander went over the facts in her head, trying to insure that she'd left nothing out.

Enalia took her seat in the command chair and looked rather dour. After a moment she began issuing orders. "Evacuate all non-essential personnel to either the saucer section or the pod and prepare for high warp emergency separation procedures as a last resort."

"As for the warp plasma, run a simulation on what would happen if we flushed it all out the nacelle vents and ejected the warp core." Enalia had a feeling it was a bad idea but sometimes bad ideas led to good ideas.

"I believe Engineering is working on that as we speak ma'am, or some variant thereof. I'll relay the orders," Rita had stepped over to her tactical station to the left of the Captain's where she was logging into her console to begin implementing the orders given. "Got to yellow alert or just move the personnel, Captain?"

"Right, let's do yellow alert and make sure everyone is awake." Enalia replied with a hint of a smirk.

"Well, to be fair, they might blow up in 23 minutes," Rita quipped back as the yellow alert klaxon sounded and the alert symbol flashed on non-dedicated monitor space. "Ordering nonessential personnel out of the stardrive section and preparing for saucer separation- wait, the saucer can separate?!?"

The spotted captain looked down at her chair consoles to check the ship's status. "In the event of an emergency, yes. The tolerances against the pod pylon are about a meter and a half though. Mona was able to pull it off, but we were stationary. That's why we'll be ejecting the pod too if we have to."

"Then let's make sure it doesn't come to that," Rita Paris offered in her determined tone, then she called belowdecks. "Engineering, how's that coolant plan coming along, any progress on buying us some time?"

=^=Sickbay to Bridge- Doctor Dael here. Captain, I’m getting reading consistent with solanagon-based bacteria, which seem to have been engineered to survive in a warp core instead of subspace. Running extraction program now to formulate an antibiotic. Estimated time to completion is 5 minutes. =^=

"Excellent new, Doctor, keep us posted. I'm very curious as to how this could have happened. Does... ah, this is going to sound silly, but does the ship take on plasma or exchange it during docking?" The throwback thot asked plainly. This was one of those moments of gaps in her knowledge, and she honestly had to ask. But she did so, because the answer was needed, and she had only a small bit of pride to wound when she didn't know. In the future, what she did know was vastly outweighed by what she didn't know she didn't know.

Enalia felt informed enough to answer that question. "We normally generate enough under normal operations to maintain our own supply, plus a small surplus. However, I think Yeoman Dedjoy mentioned we took on some plasma intercoolers and injectors and some of our spare parts were stored with the refugees. I believe our warp plasma overflow is stored on the same deck as our deuterium fuel slugs as well, so we'd best check those for tampering too."

Tapping away as the Captain spoke, Paris texted out an orders across the HERAnet.

SECURITY TEAM 2/6/7: PARIS, R CDR: Scan recently replaced plasma intercoolers and injectors taken on at DS9. Inspect and scan the spare parts that were stored with the refugees. Warp plasma overflow stored on same deck as deuterium fuel slugs, check those for tampering too.

LT CLEMENS, S: PARIS, R CDR: Cap'n says we took on some plasma intercoolers and injectors at DS9. Spare parts were stored with the refugees. Warp plasma overflow stored on same deck as deuterium fuel slugs, check those for tampering too. Security investigating, coordinate the troops. Figure out whodunnit, Mr, Clemens.

As the Executive Officer pressed SEND, another message rolled in, in reply from the original sent to Chief Clemens:

PARIS, R CDR, S: CLEMENS, S LT: Commander- The infection must have come in during a parts swap, using parts from off-ship. Based on the readings, the bugs aren't any older than our visit to DS9, so it's got to be one of the one of the plasma system parts that we just replaced during or after our departure. We've got to assume it's all infected, either live, or dormant. I've got a team going through the entire area with tricorders set to scan for both types. I've got another team searching for infection vectors. I'm betting they'll be found someplace our 'guests' had access to. They had to have some way of tricking our systems into ignoring the bugs when they were introduced, so that's going to be a hack of a minor system with a forced elevation of privileges, maybe an overflow method. When we find it, it'll likely tag whoever did it. Don't worry, Boss. we'll dig up the dirt and get it back to shiny.

The truly weird part wasn't the timing.

It was being able to understand every word he'd sent.

Which wasn't that weird in text, really. if he wrote like he spoke he'd never have graduated Starfleet Academy.

Tapping her antique Starfleet delta comm badge Rita called out. "Bridge to Engineering- how's us not blowing up coming along, Chief? Looks like twenty minutes give or take. Sickbay may have an antidote soon, Intel and Security are figuring out how we picked them up, and Science is still analyzing. We're on a course to prevent tragedy in a worst case scenario, so tell me you have some good news, Lieutenant Commander?"

" We have a plan commander." The andorian said as she hurried around her bay. " We're trying to set up a chain in the warp core so we can reverse the plasma flow and sent it into one of the emergency vent funnels. The only problem is it could damage the warp core as well as blow out a section of the hull. It would be no were near the damage if this goes pop in engineering. "

''I may have a safer, alternative solution,'' Sonak then chimmed in; ''the transporter system biofilters.''

He sent his data to the command dais chair monitors as he explained.

''When matter is beamed, the transporter system filters automatically any foreign substance or agent intermingled with the target. It is our first, best barrier against contamination or illicit entry. With the data we have on this virus, I could program one of the personnel transporter system to do exactly that with plasma; beam it and filter out anything that is not actual plasma. Once separated on the subatomic level, we could isolate it and either beam it separately in a safe containment field for study, or simply destroy it.''

=^=Doctor Dael to the bridge. We have an antibiotic prepared. It will need to be injected directly into the affected area, and will then take approximately 2 hours to take full effect, partial effects begin immediately. However, this is untested, so I can’t be 100% sure on the efficacy. This is a highly unusual bacteria, showing signs of genetic engineering. More research will be required to determine its origins =^=

"Then let's go with a combination of the two ideas." Enalia kept the doctor on the comms to hear her idea. "Doctor, since you've got a profile on this bacteria, I want you to come up with a bio-containment and disposal unit with that antibiotic. Lieutenant Sonak, I want you to use the transporter systems to sweep through the plasma systems and selectively filter out the contaminant using that bacterial profile." She then tapped a dedicated control on her chair that hailed her Yeoman. "Yeoman Dedjoy, have you kept apprised of the situation?"

The doll faced woman's voice came across the comms instantly. "I believe so, Captain. I assume you're about to either give orders to sterilize the plasma or filter it through transporter buffers. Either way, I have boosted the resolution of the internal sensors in the associated areas of the ship in anticipation. I will be able to monitor the progress of whatever cleansing method you choose from the pod."

"One step ahead of me as usual. Thank you." The spotted woman then turned to Sonak. "As soon as you hav that containment unit and have the transporters ready, begin cleansing the warp plasma so Doctor Dael can dispose of the bacterium."

Acknowledged,'' the Vulcan responded.

“Affirmative, Captain,” Dael responded, “Feeding the specs for the containment boxes into the replicator now. A standard bio-containment unit enhanced with an artron shield will do the job. Sending the transporter signature to you now. Requesting to keep small sample in stasis for further study.”

"Acknowledged,'' repeated Sonak as his thin fingers flew over his console. After a moment, he raised his head but kept his eyes on his monitor. ''Transporter filtering program upgraded and calibrated. Recommend to create the containment area in cargo bay 2, secure, evacuate and seal it. In case of failure, we can then open the cargo bay and jettison everything in it into open space.''

Tabbing her console, Paris spoke clearly. “Attention all personnel, evacuate cargo bay 2 immediately, all personnel, cargo bay 2 is to be sealed and reinforced by forcefields. Security, insure this order is executed and inform the bridge.” A few seconds later, the confirmation code came through. On the Hera, when the call was made to evacuate and seal, the crew knew to move quickly because something dangerous was liable to be happening in the immediate future.

“Captain, Cargo Bay 2 is prepped and ready, on your order,” the first officer reported.

''Transporter room 2 is ready to effect transport,'' announced Sonak. ''Target locked on.''

" Engineering ready to go." Thex said as her fingers hovered over the controls that would start this operation.

Captain Telvan raised one hand and motioned towards the viewscreen. "Proceed."

Sonak tapped huis combadge.

''Transporter room; energize.''

In engineering, the plasma flow suddenly fluctuated as a portion of it was whisked out by the transporter beam. Then the filters kicked in, separating on a subatomic level anything from plasma that was not pure plasma before returning the half-matter, half energy content to it's point of origin. The alien content however was transferred to the specially prepared containment area in cargo bay 2 at the same instant.

''Transport successful. Virus isolated and contained,'' confirmed Sonak to his commanding officer.

“En route to obtain a sample prior to destruction of the material,” Asa intoned.

Enalia leaned back in the command chair, hoping this crisis was over. "Are we safe enough from this crisis then?"

"Containment units appear to be holding, Captain, and it looks like that cleansed the plasma flow- the temperatures dropped immediately. We can store or eject the explosive infection on your command?" Paris reported.

"Once Doctor Dael has a sample, dispose of the rest." Enalia punched the controls on her chair to stand down from alert status. "Resume normal operations and course. What's our new ETA to Gaia?"

Running the numbers from the helm, Dox called back quickly. "Original heading restored, and our detour only took one point eight hours off our travel time. Current ETA is fourteen thirty hours."

Enalia nodded thankfully. "We didn't lose too much time and we didn't have to use any contingency plans so I'd say we pulled that off pretty well."

"Still, let's hope we don't have any issues with Tal Shiar sabotage..."

''We should run a successive series of diagnostics on all systems while en route,'' Sonak suggested. '' Level 1 to 3 are done by computer alone so it should not take significant computer work if we do them in succession and deck by deck, starting with the bridge an engineering. The Engineering computer should be dedicated to this work while the main computer work in tandem with it. As level 1 takes a few seconds and level 2 but a few minutes, we should have a complete basic sweep of the entire ship in fifty-three minutes. Then, as soon as available, level 3 and 4 diagnostics should implemented simultaneously as level 3 is also automated and level 4 is done manually. This will take forty-seven point fifty-three hours. Of course, as Level 5 requires to physically dismantle a system to check it, we should keep this days long procedure in check unless it is proven required by the previous ones.''

An upraised blonde eyebrow was exchanged for a nod from the captain, and Paris spoke up. "We're only nine hours and change from our destination, Mr. Sonak, but your point is well made. Get it started and we'll run through them all as time and the universe allows. I'd rather not discover any more little secrets our guests may have left for us to find on their time. I'll have Security sweep the ship as well."

''Acknowledged,'' the Vulcan answered before turning to his station. ''Computer; implement shipwide diagnostics on all systems. Complete Level 1 diagnostics before implementing procedure again at level 2 and then repeat process at level 3.''

''Diagnostics program input; starting shipwide process,'' the disembodied feminine voice of the Hera's computer answered.

"So let's hope we don't have any more issues with Tal Shiar sabotage, at least for a while..." the spotted captain amended.

It had taken the Crew of the Hera a little extra time to get there, but thankfully Gaia had given them a bit of extra time to catch up. They were now just outside the protective particle cloud protecting Gaia and scanning her with all sensors, revealing that she had taken on a roughly humanoid shape, albeit over two hundred kilometers long. The internal organs were similar to that of an amoeba, yet more complex and powerful as a borg cube. It was truly a fascinating being - both awe-inspiring and humbling in the sheer scale.

With the massive power of creation came equal power to destroy, however, and the crew of the USS Hera had to convince her to give up her current course of actions, or otherwise stop her.

Captain Telvan was on the edge of her seat as they approached. "Maintain yellow alert. Hold this distance and continue scans. We don't want to come off as too threatening. Lieutenant Dox, do you feel anything yet?"

At the helm, the chief flight control officer was visibly nervous. Months ago, a small shard of Gaia had taken up temporary residence in her mind and body. And due to her use of an experimental sensory enhancement helmet, her mind was now forced open to psychic invasion. These two factors made her uniquely vulnerable to Gaia's attentions but also represented what the crew hoped was their best window to avert tragedy; direct communication.

However, aside from the knot of anxiety in her stomach churning tight enough to snap, she otherwise felt nothing out of the ordinary. "N... No, Captain. Nothing yet. At least, nothing I can feel."

Attached to her neck was a small, blinking sensor placed there by Doctor Dael to monitor her brainwaves, but it too indicated nothing amiss yet.

"Lieutenant Dael and Ensign Gonadie, please report to the bridge," Commander Rita Paris broadcast over the comms, then she continued issuing orders. "Miss Dox, Mister Sonak, please call for your relief. Meanwhile, what are we looking at here, Mister Sonak?"

''A biomechanical construct, Commander,'' answered the Vulcan. ''Despite the size, this is much reminiscent of the one once made out from a crew member of the USS Enterprise during the V'Ger incident, back in the mid-twenty-third century. Through this android probe, the entity was able to communicate and study ship and crew.''

"Fascinating. Good to know there is historical precedent," the time-tossed temptress observed, hoping that lent a bit more morale to the theory that this could be done successfully.

Like the chief science officer with his own assistant, Dox typed instructions to Ensign MacNielle, who was on standby, to report to the bridge. As she did, her eyes were glued to the image of the forming Titan on the screen.

As Mona reported to the bridge and stood by with her love, she fidgeted slightly in worry. Moments later, Ensign MacNielle arrived to relieve Dox who stood up and away from her station, next to Mona. And while public displays of affection were frowned upon, she stood as physically close to her Miradonian mate as she could.

There was another entity watching them. One that saw and recognized the one that helped them return home. The risk of contaminating them with the rest of the shards within the entity it called home was high, but it really wanted to let this being know that it was grateful for the assistance, even if its experiences were different from that of all the other probing shards that had been sent out. For now, it would wait and let the entities that they both belonged to make the first moves.

Exiting the turbolift with haste, Doctor Dael went to stand by Mnhei’sahe on the bridge, a medical tricorder in one hand and a bag slung across their shoulder filled with assorted medicines and tools, the doctor endeavored to be prepared for any eventuality.

“Doctor Dael reporting as ordered. Monitoring Lieutenant Dox's vitals now, how else can I help?” they inquired of the senior officers.

“Time to try something very different,” Rita Paris explained, standing and moving to the center of the bridge, before the seated Captain. “Miss Dox, guided by Mr. Sonak, is going to attempt to reach the shard of Gaia which we once met, encountered and returned to the main body. We’re hoping this will enable us to lend it more of a voice, and enable us to attempt to reason with a cosmic being.” Spoken aloud, in a lifetime of crazy plans, this one sounded particularly insane. But crazy, in Rita’s experience, often worked. Besides, they didn’t have a better option, and they all knew it.

Pulling her attention away from the screen nervously, Dox turned to Rita and forced the slightest of smiles on her face and simply nodded her readiness to her Commander.

"First, let me establish that this experiment is volunteer only," Paris continued, acknowledging the nature of the experiment. "Any or all of you have the capacity to refuse, as this is in no way an order. We can ask this of you, but in good conscience, we cannot order you. I want that clearly understood- you do this not because you have to, but because you choose to. With that said, Mr. Sonak, are you prepared?”

''Affirmative,'' simply answered the stoic Vulcan, hands at his back.

“Mister Sonak will be the comm officer for this,” Rita explained, as she wanted to ensure everyone was on the same page with the plan. “As he has decades of training and the mental discipline to focus this channel we are attempting to open, he will be using Lieutenant Dox’s connection and propensity for psychically connecting. Miss Gonadie, you two share a bond, and I suspect Miss Dox will need your strength- so with your permission, I would like you added to this link.”

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Commander," replied the brightly plumed Moradonian, her head held high. She just found her life mate and wasn't about to let some cosmic entity take away what they had if she had any say in it.

“Doctor Dael, you are…. Unique,” Rita smirked slightly. On the Hera, so many were unique souls it almost seemed like a backhanded compliment. “As an El-Aurian, you too are something of an eternal, and your capacity for compassion is unparalleled. I would like for you to be joined in this link as well, to support Miss Dox in this endeavor. You have considerable strength of character, and you care for all involved, rather fiercely. I would like to ask for you to help defend the minds in this link as well.”

With a nod, Asa replied, “Honored to serve, Commander. And, um, I brought some party-favors. If anyone begins to act out of character, this,” they said, drawing a small circle from their bag and placing it on their own neck, “Can be activated through a control panel I will give to the Captain. Once activated, the device will deliver a neuro-inhibitor and sedative sufficient to both stop any telepathic communications and render the wearer unconscious. It has a hell of a hangover, but I figured better to be prepared- just in case.”

''A logical precaution,'' Sonak said with a nod to Asa.

“I’ll be joining in as well," Paris finished. "Because while I have the psychic potential of the average rubber tree, I cannot allow all of you to risk yourselves, and not be willing to take that risk myself. I may not be able to stand in harm’s way in your place, but damned if I will let all of you go into this without my help,” Rita Paris declared, resting a hand on Dox’s shoulder to reassure the anxious aerospace ace. The First Officer who doubled as head of Security did not mention anything about the security officers standing by the turbolifts, who already had their orders to intervene if it looked like things were getting out of hand. There was no need- everyone knew why they were there and understood the inherent danger. “So I’ll be a part of this as well. With all of that said, is there anyone else that would like to volunteer for this mission of contact?”

Thex knew she couldn't volunteer to her friends given she was needed in case any if the ship or the instruments started playing up which given they were close to a newly reborn goddess with the power to reshape planets was a rather likely responsibility. "Just want to say good luck, guys. None of the equipment going to malfunction on my watch."

''Luck is only a lack of calculation of all the relevant variables,'' Sonak said with his usual deadpan tone.

The Ship's Spook spoke up. "C'manduh, ah'd like tuh help. Mah big mouth staht'd this riskeh biz'ness." He looked worried.

"Of course, Sam. We might just need a bit of fanciful thinking in all of this- glad to have you," the Commander smiled, genuinely glad to see the gregarious gambler stepping up to help.

Sensing the offers to join had ceased, Asa made their way through the bridge, affixing the small dots that would enable the Captain to render the wearer unconscious to each person’s neck, programming the PaDD that would control them as they went. While on the surface Asa was all business, they offered a smile and a squeeze of encouragement to the shoulder or arm of each person, hoping to shore everyone up for the task ahead of them.

“Ready when everyone else is,” Asa said in their best professional voice.

Enalia leaned back in the central chair and keyed in a sequence into the console built into it. "Excellent. Maru?" Rather than the normal chirrup as a response, the computer responded with a brief and curious meow. "All command codes now require confirmation of myself, the first officer, and you until further notice. If you detect signs that the entire crew has been compromised by Gaia, please inform Hera, lock down the ship, and fly to the nearest quarantine station." The response from the computer could only be described as a double affirmative meowing.

"Now that that's taken care of..." The spotted captain looked over the PaDD of everyone who was wearing one of the pendants just in case. "Let's get this party started. When you're all ready, and please remember, everything dealing with psionics is voluntary. This is your last chance to back out."

Enalia may have been addressing all the volunteers with her words, but it was Dox that her eyes were locked on. Enalia glanced down at her PaDD before setting it on the arm of her chair and motioned to Rita. "Start the link and hook up with the shard if you can."

Rita took Sonak's hand, immediately establishing a telepathic bond with the Kolinahr through their lifebond of t'hy'la. Gentkly taking Asa'a hand as well, she quietly issued the order, "Link hands, all of you. Two of you grab Dox's hands, make a circuit."

Asa pictured their own energy forming a bubble around the linked group. They allowed it to extend to permeate through the entire bridge, feeling a slight tug on their mind from an unknown source, and sent images of safety, security, and protection through their thoughts.

Deciding in a split second to ensure the Captain remained protected, Asa pictured glass cage around Enalia’s mind, unbreakable and impenetrable, as they send a weave of tendrils of energy around Enalia’s form, tying the weaves together and imbuing them with slightly more energy than those surrounding the rest of the bridge crew.

At a loss of how to convey what they had done to the Captain, Asa smiled at her and winked, hoping the message was in some way received.

Mona took Clemens' hand as he took Asa's, then took a deep breath and let it out before she took her love's hand. Completing the circuit, she let her own energies flow, trying to shield her love's mind from the immensity that was Gaia. She could feel all the colors of the link flowing back and forth through her, and the pressure that the Titan was exerting on her beloved Minay- and it was intense even if it wasn't direct.

At the center of the whole link was Sonak's own mind. With his mind meld, he was the connecting link of all their minds, his purely almost machine-like logical thoughts like the waters of the ocean linking islands together. Through his mastery of Kolinahr, he directed the waves and currents of this psyche ocean in a harmonious, stable, yet always moving whole; even while protecting, with the ebb and flow of his emotionless psyche, those of all the minds involved in the link. Alone, even he could not have withstood the power of Gaia. Together, they could.

That was his sole driving purpose; to maintain them all together as one mind, multifaceted and as hard as a diamond, polished to the point of having even a titanide's mind reflected to itself... and bringing her within the link.

Thus, she would feel every emotion and sensation from each and all of them. Whatever she would choose to inflict; pain, pleasure, terror, bliss, understanding, confusion... she would feel it too, just as all of them would.

This was a collective mind meld; much more than a direct communication between minds. It was a merging; an amalgamation of mind and soul, of thought and emotion, of mortal and divine.

They were all... one.

As the watching shard that was friendly to the crew of the Hera saw a mental link go up inside the crew, It knew this was its one chance to be heard over the multitude of voices inside of its own mass of essences and gingerly added its own consciousness to the ring that had formed.

In her mind's eye, for the first time in her life, Lieutenant Mnhe'sahe Dox was calm.

The logic of Sonak soothed her anxieties, making them all simple questions to be answered and filed. The risks were acceptable, she had decades of training and experience, and she was a Kolinahr master whose powers had once been far greater than this. She was a well of compassion, a survivor who had chosen to help and heal wherever they went, be it the body or the mind. They were connected with all life in an ancient pact with the universe, and they upheld it.

Joined together, she had the wry wit and observation of a riverboat gambler, a modern spymaster with a heart of gold. Samuel Clemens knew storytelling, and now, she did too. Within her was the courage of a human explorer, reaching for the stars and the wonders like the titan Gaia herself, with awe and compassion, bringing the message of her people to the universe. Strongest of all, despite her lack of emotion, was the full and warm devotion of the love of her life, coming through far clearer with the skill and power of Sonak than she ever had in their own empathic connection. Here, Minay could feel the depth and breadth of the love Mona Gonadie held for her, and the absolute unshakable belief that her mate could do anything.

All of this... all of their thoughts, all of their strengths, all of their compassion and their love for the beings of the universe came together in the mind of Mnhei'sahe Dox, and they knew what to do.

Thinking as one being, they lowered their heads in unison on the bridge of the Hera as the collective consciousness reached out towards the swirl of energy and life beyond the ship. In their minds eye, the colors of their individual auras had become a single, brilliant white light stretching past the confines of the starship towards the great Titan.

Then, simultaneously, yet distinctly, other notions filtered through- all with one voice, but flavored differently, like yoah mama's dried apple cake, aftuh suppah, layuhs uv sweet tang'eh mix'd wi' lump'eh, yeast'eh lay'ehs, and...

Wrapped in a sense of lavender came laughing while running through a forest, splashing in the river with Brother, sneaking sweets from the elders handbag, learning everything imaginable, and growing to work tirelessly to give relief, to heal what the universe tears asunder.

Admiring the explorers all gathered in their uniforms, so noble, so precise. Wanting to follow in the footsteps of the heroes of the fleet, serving in the stars, taking humanity's message of peace and friendship to the galaxy, the ever expanding frontier.

The needs of the many outweighs the needs of the few. But there is no many without the one. Therefore the one is precious for the many.

Like a great winged bird of paradise, Mona's energy swept through the group like blue, yellow, and green wings trying to help protect them and broadcasting a message of soaring love.

As they reached out, in one voice projecting physically from Dox's mouth that was somehow a combination of them all, they asked a simple question to the being that was Gaia. A simple question asked with a single word: "Why?

Once the crew's voice quieted down, Gaia's reply came back in a much more unified manner. "Why? To rid the universe of your pretentious, greedy, and arrogant kind, to give rise to more worthy beings." Then in an undercurrent, a lone voice in that sea cried out and was almost lost to it. "They do not know your compassion!"

Within the fusion of the crew's minds, the part that was Mnhei'sahe Dox immediately recognized the lone voice. It was the shard. The shard that was once merged with her. It was both a part of Gaia and their fusion, and it was raising it's voice to be heard.

"That is not all we are. We wish to be better together." The joined voice pleaded.
"We are but children still, taking our first steps into the expanding Universe."
"Teach us and we will grow."
"We only wish to learn and explore."
"There is no need to harm those that would learn from you."
"Please, let the life already here grow into its potential."
"No kill."
''IDIC; infinite diversity in infinite combinations.''
"Aw, c'mon, now. Don't fold, yet! Yuh gotta play tuh win. We ain't even dun a'drawin'."

Gaia's reply was firm. "I have witnessed much hatred and destruction against your own kind and against my children."

"We have all witnessed hatred."
"Experienced it first hand."
"Sometimes caused it through mistakes and pain."
"But... you stop hate with compassion."
"That's how we try to be better."
''We come to serve.''

Along with the words came the memory of the smell and taste of hot apple pie, made with love by a parent.

Childhood tears being wiped away.

The fulfillment of self through learning.

An encompassing love that would move the heavens to protect one small child.

While falling asleep, the sound of a grandmother's voice singing softly.

The satisfaction of making a friend of a spiteful goddess, to convince her to live a better life for her children.

Your ancestor telling you to return to your friends as they throw you a rope.

Feeling that Gaia was unmoved, they felt instead what the shards of the titan, seeded throughout the galaxy had found. Humanoid life was venal, petty and weak. Selfish and arrogant, they were motivated by fear and distrust,m always seeking to gain advantage over one another. The lies and betrayals, the false declarations of honor undermined by secret cowardice. All of what the shards had experienced, Gaia shared with the mortals who had the temerity to question her, to plead their case.

But only about 50 years worth of history. And very little of it within the Federation, although they could feel their former Counselor amongst the shards. The fear and pain she had maintained that had poisoned her entire outlook on life, leading to constant threats and self-absorption.

"This is not all of our story."
"We are so much more than this.
"You have not seen how far we have come."
"You do not know who we have become."
"How we have striven."
"To be better."
"Solving disputes with logic."
"Offering compassion and friendship"
"Truth. Theyah cain't be nothing more impoahtant than the truth. Let us show ya, ma'am."

A feed from the ship's databanks began, at what would normally be an incomprehensible speed for any mortal- but the amalgam of minds that represented those closest to Lieutenant Dox (plus Dox herself) had no problem following the stream, and, indeed, threading it out into thousands of parallel streams, all annotated throughout by the various members of the gestalt, according to their individual gifts. It began with the combined records of all known sources regarding the Preservers seeding process, and ran through to the most recent long-range observations of not-yet-contacted humanoid cultures. No known facts were omitted or glossed-over, no dirty secrets human-'splained, no best-light angles.

And one more thing.

The entirety of all collected works in the science fiction, fantasy, and comic book categories, from all Federation-contacted cultures.

In the spirit of completeness, of course. Through Sam's cybernetic link to the Hera's computer, the histories of hundreds of Federation worlds flowed into the minds of the link. And through Dox's link, into the shard where it became a part of Gaia.

Thousands of years of history showed a view not just of the ugly side, not just the pettiness or hypocricy that Gaia had witnesses. It showed progress, compassion, growth and change. They stumbled and fell, but pulled themselves back up and became better and reached out into the cosmos to learn.

And all of this came through the prisms of the assembled minds, giving the lessons context. It was the histories of countless worlds as seen through the eyes of of the gestalt.

A human woman once torn apart for years and flung even further from her home who kept moving forward, not in fear, but with hope and curiousity.

An El-Aurian who watched sickness and ignorance rob them of their family who embraced compassion and learned to heal.

A Romulan girl who learned that her past and family was built on lies who chose to embrace the truth of the family she was making for herself.

A Miradonian who watched helplessly as her family was devoured before her who instead sought love and wanted to show the universe how to fly.

The last kolinahr, who hurled himself through space and time for the chance to be reunited with his guiding star, in a universe he never dared dream to be whole.

And the human man who had his humanity cleaved away from him who took it as a chance to rebuild himself in the service of others.

Each willing to give everything for the other. Each adding their sould to the hope of understanding. The voices of billions over eons all looking forward with hope and a longing to help filtered through those few that were there to somehow make it happen, speaking in one voice, pleading for Gaia to join them in their quest for the future.

Gaia took time to check the contents of this data dump as fast as it came in and found that while her assessment was not wrong... It was far from right as well.

Then something amazing happened.

From both within Gaia and within the Hera circle came a single voice, singing of hope for a better world. It was a catchy tune and soon other voices within Gaia were joining in and slowly she was forced to reassess her earlier opinions of the current state of the galaxy. That one shard had found a voice and was using it.

Outside, Gaia game to a stop and ceased all activity, no longer threatening the worlds of this system with the New Genesis she offered. "We are reconsidering our position."

It was the moment they needed. Gaia was listening now. The voices within her were being swayed as, on the bridge of the Hera, their hands tightened their grips in each other.

Through Dox's body, the conduit being used, the entire conversation was being spoken allowed from both sides. The Captain and the rest of the crew could hear Dox, Paris, Sonak, Asa, Mona and Sam's words and Gaia's herself through the one voice in a somewhat unsettling display that kept all involved aware of what was happening.

But inside the vastness of the joined mindscape, amplified by Dox's connection and held together by the most powerfully ordered mind of the greatest Kolinahr master alive, they redoubled their efforts to reach the wavering Titan.

“Alone, we struggle. But together, we have each other's strength to support us. As we are here and now is what we are trying to show you. Worlds that have come together over the centuries, wanting… needing… to be better. Better together. Together we can be greater than our weaknesses.”

Images of failures began to flow, both personal and societal. The unvarnished reality of life in all its forms. “We are not perfect. We… we screw up all the time. We fail and we want to give up because it's easier. But…”

And as they spoke as a whole, the images changed. Hands reaching out to aid the injured in tragedy. A warm blanket given to the cold. A starship beaming survivors from disaster. Images of the bigger picture. “But together we can overcome our mistakes. Be better than our weaknesses.”

Then the images became personal. Rita Paris holding Mnhei'sahe Dox, wiping the young Romulan's blood from her own cheeks to remind her of her worth. Doctor Asa Dael giving, without a thought, twenty years of her own life up to Thex. Sonak mind melding with Asa after their Awakening. Mona struggling to teach Mnhei'sahe how to quiet her mind. Sam taking the blade of a petulant god, putting himself between others that couldn't defend themselves.

“Destroying these worlds… starting them over is giving up on them. Denying them the chance to grow. To be better. To do so is to give up on hope itself and bow to all the things we must never allow to win within us. We're here not just to save these worlds, but to save you from succumbing to that.”

“We once held a small part of you, and through that part we saw your hope and your fear. Your desire to be more and your fear of being alone. But you aren't alone and neither are we. And together we can all be better than the urges to give up.”

Lifting their heads in unison, the assembled members of the gestalt made one final plea. “Let us help you be what you really are. You are a goddess of life, not death. And to do so is more than just creating life. It's nurturing it. Guiding it when it might otherwise stumble. Please don't give up in us. We need you to be better than that.”

That was what pushed the shards within Gaia over towards her new decision. In a reverse data dump, several key pieces of information were 'transmitted' to the crew of the USS Hera via the link, including the location of Primordis, the nature of the connection between him and Gaia, their original roles in the universe, and Gaia's plans for what to do next - to open a quantum singularity into the realm which she was previously sleeping, and to return to it, so she could nurture all life from there.

Which she did not waste time doing.

Suddenly, instead of a two hundred kilometer long Titan, there was a miniature black hole that within a matter of seconds had sucked her in, and was on the verge of sucking the USS Hera in as well.

As Gaia vanished, the link between the members of the Hera crew was harshly broken. For Dox, it felt almost as if a part of her mind was pulled towards the newly formed vortex in space.

There was a moment of confusion as the young Romulan stumbled for a moment as she returned to her own body, alone again in her own mind. "W... what happened? Did we? Did it work?"

''Communication was successful,'' answered Sonak. ''How it has been interpreted however, remains to be fully understood.''

"Hnave!" Paris exclaimed, seeing the black hole forming on the viewscreen. Assessing the situation quickly, she moved to action. "Hard about! Red alert! Helm, get us out of here, warp speed! Science, give us telemetry on the gravitic field building out there. Communications, ready an emergency buoy. Engineering, give her all she's got!"

From the helm, Ensign MacNielle responded. "Aye."

Clemens dove at the Engineering secondary console, raising one bushy brow as he pulled up the readouts from the singularity.

"Interesting. This type of hyperspatial portal has not been documented, before." He swiftly accessed the shield systems, fingers a blur.

''It has been recorded before, Mister Clemens,'' Sonak objected as he looked at the readouts himself; ''twice... in my universe; this is an artificial wormhole based on red matter transmutation interacting with floating matter in outer space. It opens a passage through spacetime and otherwise conforms with the parameters of a black hole.''

"Reconfiguring shield matrix to compensate for newly-discovered variants. Helm, I am sending you a course heading which will avoid the most violent of the subspace disturbances." His eyes squinted, as he saw more data streaming from the lateral sensor array. "Surak's Lobes!... what the hell is that??"

Back in her own head, Dox quickly relieved the nervous Ensign at the helm will a tap to her shoulder and entered the heading instructions from Clemens, but the mighty starship only shuddered at the pull of the singularity. "We are not budging out of the gravity well! And the proverbial pedal is on the floor."

"Captain needs options, people!" Rita Paris herself racked her brain, stepping over to her own console, bringing up firing resolutions and loading aft quantum torpedoes as she shared the data with the science station. "Sonak, the time/space distortion is making targeting tricky, can you calculate for the shockwave to try to blow us clear? Someone tell me they have a brilliant idea to prevent a starship from encountering the event horizon of a black hole or we're all gonna be a lot flatter!"

''At this distance, we do not even have a fraction of the power necessary to break free from a gravimetric area of this magnitude,'' the Vulcan stated. ''But there is an alternative; use it's own pull to slingshot around and away from it.''

Mona ran the numbers from the helm side panel herself. "There's a ninety three percent chance of catching the edge of the accretion disk and the ship being pulled to wherever it leads to and even with wahp ingines at fuhl... Ahem... Even with warp engines at full, it's unlikely we'll clear it on any edge with how much we've slid into the singularity already."

Enalia was tapping away at her own chair consoles, trying to make sense of the data when a signal override came in over the viewscreen. showing Yeoman Ila Dedjoy sealing up a safety type EV suit used in the pod. "Captain, remember that briefing on the quantum displacement drive I gave you?" Not waiting for an answer, she pressed on as she sealed up her suit. "I wasn't able to finish the particle shielding, but the drive core is finished and there are enough particles for two jumps. I've linked navigation to Maru, so just tell her where to go. I'm going to run the final activation link inside the control room."

"Wait... You said the shielding had to be perfect, or any bio-matter would be dissolved into the quantum realm the system travels though." Enalia clearly understood the situation and didn't like it- but she knew the ship had to come first.

As the Hera shuddered around them, Ila Dedjoy, the woman who lived in perpetual fear of death, smiled selflessly at her commanding officer. "Captain... Enalia... Just go to black alert and get the ship and crew out of here. The controls have been routed to your right arm console."

As the viewscreen reverted back to a lovely view of the thirsty singularity, Enalia tapped at her chair controls and found them. "I need coordinates! Where are we going?"

"196.52 mark 4.4 bearing 121," Rita Paris called out, reaching over Dox's shoulder to tap the coordinates into the helm manually, still not having completely caught on to what was happening. The lost navigator recalled the coordinates just relayed to her a moment ago from a cosmic being, then amended them slightly so they would not warp in on top of the target.

"Wait- dissolve... biomatter... quantum realm... Dedjoy, I'll be right there!" As she put it together, the ghost of the 23rd century realized what was about to happen. Had she sufficient time, Paris would have traded places with the scientist, counting on her own freakish luck in the dance between energy and matter to enable her to survive somehow.

But time was a luxury they did not have.

"Commander Paris, stand down. There's no time." Enalia grabbed the arm of her first officer as she tried to pass, then punched in the coordinates and linked the system to Maru to navigate them away safely. "Fair travels, Ila Dedjoy. May we meet again..."

Looking up from her chair controls, Enalia issued the commands that would flip their concept of reality on end. "Black alert! Prepare for quantum displacement jump! Disengage warp in three... Two... One..." As soon as she felt Dox cut the engines, the Trill beauty hit the jump drive, and the entire starship felt like it spun on all three axis only to fall into a quantum hole in the universe.

Then in just under a second, they had arrived.

They were now in a large blue star giant system, and there was no sign of the singularity. There were no stresses on the structure of the starship. Black alert had ended, and the strange klaxon had silenced. Normal lighting resumed as the red alert was cancelled, and it fell eerily silent.

But Enalia had to ask. "Computer, location of Yeoman Ila Dedjoy."

The computer chirruped and seemed to pause for what seemed an eternity while it searched. "Yeoman Dedjoy is no longer aboard."

She did her best to remain composed as she issued her next orders. "Stand... Stand down alert status. Inform Commodore Meowlith of our status and location. Begin scans for Primordius."

By her side, her own face clearly resisting an ugly cry, Paris patted the Captain’s shoulder, offering what comfort there was over their sudden loss of brave sacrifice.

Still reeling from the sudden loss of the mental link, Asa did not fully understand what Ila had done, but they felt sadness descend upon them, grasping for and failing to think of anything that could be done.

Deciding instead to focus on what they could impact, the doctor set about silently scanning all those who had participated in the link. Seeing no ill effects, they began removing the dots from each person’s neck, pausing before Mnhei’sahe.

“You…you in there? No lurking presence?” Asa asked.

Pausing in shock for a moment, Dox barely heard Asa's question. After a second, she slowly replied. "Y... Yeah. It's me. Just me, I'm pretty sure. I'm not feeling... anyone else, I don't think." As she spoke, her hand slid slowly to Mona's who was still standing next to the station at the helm. Upon touching, Dox could only barely feel their psychic link.

Sam slowly sat down at the station he was before. Almost absently, he brought up a system scan.

The cool blue giant was home to some 19 planet-class objects, about evenly mixed between rocky and gas giants, with two asteroid belts.

"Thuh syst'm's gawt nynteen planets, coupla belts. No signs've sentient life… mostleh pre-primate low saurian stuff. Um… scannin' fuhthuh owt. " His tone was flat.

"Aw, dubble frell me. There he is." Clemens brought up the system layout, then shrunk it.

Hovering above the ecliptic, an object blocked the view of most of the objects in the system. It initially looked like a wedge, but rotating the view revealed it to be a conical, ragged shape, almost like a massive stalactite...

...if stalactites could be larger than stars, and had a maw that could swallow a dozen red supergiants.

“Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me!” Paris exclaimed as she recognized the conical tapered open-mawed cone in space. “The Doomsday Machine…?!?”

{Doomsday Machine Theme plays} https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Xc-M3bRxLc

''A much similar construction to that encountered by the starship Enterprise in the 23rd century, albeit considerably larger,'' confirmed Sonak with a raised eyebrow; ''an automated mobile mechanism of immense size and power. The original one was several kilometers long, built to destroy planets and use the rubble for fuel, therefore being self-sustaining as long as there was planetary bodies for it to feed upon. This one however seems to be designed to ingurgitate the entire mass of stellar bodies. This is of comparable size to the V'Ger sentient probe, registering over a hundred astronomical units in length, it's mass like that of a small black hole... and of a technological level way beyond even the capability of all the known sentient space faring civilizations to destroy even together, let alone conceive.''

Sonak turned towards the command seat.

''Captain; there is no conceivable way to stop such a construct. It's outer hull is made of pure neutronium. Even the Hobus supernova would have not scratched it. Unless it has an artificial intelligence that could be reasoned with, which the original machine had not, the only logical option left is to find who made it... and convince it's creator to stop it.''

Clemens recovered enough to ask, "Izzat Pry-moar-dee-us? Or just a minion?? If it's him, he's gawt a helluva sense uv ironeh. Hadta up thuh trope frum 'dee-stroy-uh uv wuhlds' tuh 'eatuh uv stah systems." More than a little anger flared in his piercing blue eyes.

"If'n it's jus' a minion, it's a damn shame we ain't gawt summa that red mattuh t'feed it."

Thex had been resting the urge to hurl that had been caused by the quantum displacement drive. As her blue eyes focused on the screen a word that thankfully refused to translate in the universal translator came out of her mouth at the sight of the machine from the history books.

"Oh great. Out of the frying pan, into the fryer..."

Gaia Reborn Planning

Gaia Reborn has started and we've got a Titan terra-forming planets to deal with now! Let's see what we have to deal with on the agenda, shall we?

- Leave DS9
- Determine Gaia's motivation
- Continue recovery of Az'Prel
- Thunderchicken trials!
- An actual staff meeting?!?! Is Enalia sick?!?!
- Figure out Gaia's proto-matter tech and a defense against it
- Away mission with the Cyclones to see dinos and pitcher-plants eating them - Dedjoy freaks out again
- Catch up to Gaia and see that she's actually 200km long and vaguely humanoid shaped
- Dox makes a 2 way connection with the shard of Gaia!
- Flint 2 gets wiped out and terra-formed! Gaia heads off towards her next target! Bali Gamma 4!
- The new data reveals much information about these proto-matter projectiles that Gaia is launching
- A defense is planned! Communication is established before Gaia destroys a pre-industrial civilization! Will it be too late?
- It was probably too late. Things are tense.
- Gaia is heading off course towards the XXX system, where Enalia's home and Orbital Fortress is located.


Staff Meeting Order
- Hera briefs on the nature of Titans and Gaia
- Rita briefs on what Gaia is doing
- Enalia briefs on what Gaia has done to those planets and the similarities to the Genesis device
- Sonak briefs on the Genesis device with firsthand info
- Clemens briefs on Intel insider info and the current status of Genesis protomatter tech
- Open floor

-------------------------
OOC Az: here's the start of the outline for our next mission! There are a few things missing, like how we finally win, and there's plenty of time for character development in this one.

The threat of Gaia had been averted, as the titan of old was convinced through peaceable means to return from whence she had come. Which would have been quite the victory for the crew of the USS Hera, save that in departing this reality the titan had opened a singularity that was too close for the Hera to avoid, and it would have destroyed her with all hands on board.

Save for the sacrifice of one Yeoman Ila Dedjoy.

Rigging an experimental system for a quantum jump, she had been lost in saving the starship and all aboard, escaping the inexorable pull of a black hole, and catapulting the starship dozens of lightyears distant, where they could now identify Primordius, her counterpart- the devourer of suns.

On the bridge, there was still that sense of urgency that danger and crisis created, but they were safe. Primordius still had over a day before he was close enough to begin devouring the star AL-56972, the ship was out of danger, and the bridge crew, for the most part, were in shock. Commander Paris stepped away from the Science station where she had been conferring with the Chief Science Officer, Lieutenant Sonak. When she stepped into the center of the bridge to speak, her voice was strained and unsteady, but still enough to be heard.

“All of you call your relief. We are going to 10-Forward, and we are raising a drink to Miss Dedjoy. You too, Captain,” the fulsome First Officer indicated. Although she could not order the Captain, it was clear that she expected compliance from all involved.

"Yeah, I agree." Standing, Enalia tugged down on her uniform and turned towards the turbolift. "We have time for that at least. Just let me know when the Commodore finally gets our report."

----------

Minutes later, the bridge crew were all in ten forward and Enalia had liberated the good stuff from behind the bar so they would be able to make a proper toast and was pouring them all fluted glasses of Illaran wine. Raising her glass, she gave the first toast. "To Ila Dedjoy. The best Yeoman a Captain could dream of and savior to this crew more than once."

The assemblage of crewmembers all raised their glasses along with their Captain. The normally boisterous lounge was understandably quiet as the soft blue light of the nearby star flooded in through the curved windows.

Tapping her glass insistently, Rita Paris began to address the bar. "Risk is our business, I've heard it said."

With that, Paris stepped out to begin to walk amongst the crew, as was her wont as she spoke and pontificated. "Risk involves loss, which is what brings us here tonight. Our Yeoman Ila Dedjoy, our doll-eyed mad scientist and keeper of the Captain's secrets, found a way to save us when nothing else was working. In doing so she came into unprotected contact with a quantum surge of energy which left behind her boots and her commbadge."

Shaking her head, Paris folded her hands before her. "Funny thing. Yeoman Dedjoy was terrified of away missions."

"Before we left the hangar, before she even saw the horrors that we were up against when we headed into the section 31 base, she nearly had a breakdown. Her twin sister had died before her in Starfleet, and in a way Ila lived to take her place in destiny. Always, though... she was very afraid of getting killed. Dedjoy knew that not all of the wonders of the universe were wonderful to behold, and that mission was horrifying. But she kept her cool, secured the data and even got the sterilizers online for us. She stayed behind me, stuck close, played it smart and she lived. I got her back safe, just like... just like I promised her I would." At this, Paris couldn't keep a straight face anymore, and started ugly crying, her chin squinched up and her voice rising a bit more in pitch.

But she pressed on.

"All of those technologies she was figuring out, up there in that... that cave of wonders she had... up there in the Intel pod..." Rita struggled for a moment, then as an act of will forcibly returned herself to military decorum, though tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Ila Dedjoy earned her first name on a geological survey where she made a discovery, which made her exceptional amongst her people. She was named for Ilara, the world from which she hailed, which she... worried she would... never see again." Jaw muscles clenching, Rita forced herself to press on. "Geology was her specialized science, and she brought us an age of black crystalline data storage that will make our current capacity seem like child's play. Or as I like to call it, the future." Looking around, Paris stopped to nod at the crew.

Releasing the Starfleet comm badge from her palm where she'd been carrying it, the two towers backing a shiny delta which was slightly scorched, Commander Paris held it up for all to see. "We have a future, thanks to Yeoman Dedjoy, who sacrificed herself willingly to save us all. That means that the lives we lead from here on bear that much more responsibility. Because they gave up their lives for ours. We owe it to them."

Lowering the upraised arm, the anachronistic astronaut stared at the delta, then looked out at the crew. "I won't believe that she's dead. I'll mourn her, and I'll miss her, but I refuse to believe she's dead until we find a body. I've been lost in space myself a time or two, and I'm still here today because people didn't give up on me. So we won't give up on Yeoman Dedjoy. But for now," Paris picked up a drink off the table next to her, that wasn't hers.

"Here's to absent friends."

Glasses were raised throughout the room as the sobering words were repeated by the crew. Holding hands near the windows, Mnhei'sahe Dox tightened her grip on Mona Gonadie's hand as her eyes swelled with tears.

Tapping out a missive to the crew and guests of the Hera alike, Paris did her duty to inform them of the loss of Yeoman Dedjoy, inviting all off-duty personnel and guests of the Hera to attend.

As soon as she finished, the computer piped up in an odd, purring voice. "Commmmandurr Parris, you have a messsage waiting."

"Thank you, computer," Rita replied, wondering if now that she knew, she should call the computer by name. Not professional and would set a bad example- stick to protocol, she decided. Realizing she was without a PaDD, the girl anachronism fished her collapsible hand-held out of her uniform top where she tended to store such things, as she had ample room and no pockets anywhere else on her uniform. Stepping over to a quiet section of the bar, she brought up the message, wondering just whom was sending her a message that was not here.

As the screen flashed to life, Kodria's smiling face appeared, and a sad smile came over the face of the fulsome first officer. The young android from the future had promised to write a series of letters and apparently, this was the first of them to be triggered.

"Hey Aunt Rita!" the young being began enthusiastically with a cheery smile and a wave. "I hope you're doing well. I know you've just faced off with the Titan Gaia and lost a dear friend or you wouldn't be getting this. Hopefully Maru is able to get it to you before you face off against the second Titan. I just want you to know that even though things may seem hopeless, you're right and that you need to trust your feelings. Things aren't over yet, and help will come from the most unlikely of places. Just get that shielding finished soon, ok? Love you!" With that, the screen returned to the normal passive display.

Even in tragedy, there was hope- in this case, from someone who had foreknowledge of the future, to whom she still wrote letters that wouldn't be read for another 90-odd years yet. But the young android she and Dedjoy and Doc had rescued from an abandoned base of horrors came from their future, and she know their lives and adventures well. It warmed Rita's heart that she managed to give hints without specifics- still, even exiled back to the future from whence she had been tossed by time, the bright young woman was trying to help without interfering. Which filled Rita with an oddly parental sort of pride.

Unlike some of the hints Kodria had provided her, this one, however, needed to be shared.




Az'Prel had come to the lounge for a change of scenery and to see how those in this universe lived and while she had no wardrobe, she found the local traditional Vulcan robes comforting, if not defensible. It was difficult not to think of everything tactically, but she was trying. Having just witnessed the entire events of the Gaia incursion, singularity, and the toast was fascinating and educational.

Recognizing the ship's Science Chief, the displaced Vulcan moved over to speak with him in their native Vulcan. "I must admit that I have never before seen such displays of grief over loss. I am myself at a loss over how to process it."

''It is indeed bewilderingly alien,'' the Vulcan confessed. ''Despite their advanced knowledge and enlightenment, emotional species still tend to feel much anxiety for what is but a natural outcome of life; all the more, a risky one such as our own.''

Since they were both apart from the others, he continued speaking in Vulcan.

''That being said, I have observed interacting with them over the years that, because of this fear and denial, they derive much drive and focus. At least in part, it explains why Humans are arguably the most industrious and dynamic spacefaring species we know; of all sentient species, they are relatively short-lived and, in all probability, the most apprehensive about death.''

Az'Prel contemplated this a moment before responding. "The humans of my universe lived short lives as well, but reveled in killing and conquest. However, they too were similarly quite industrious about spreading across the stars in their own way. Perhaps the Terran Empire and this Federation are not that dissimilar, except the way they approach life and death being polar opposites."

''Therefore, that makes them, for all intent and purposes, completely different; except in raw material,'' stated Sonak. ''This is a textbook example of nurture over nature. It is not what you are that matters so much as what you actually do with what yourself. The Federation and Terran Empire comparative study factually destroys superficial notions like racism, sexism, elitism and fatalism; fascinating to be sure.''

"It is indeed a subject to meditate upon," Az'Prel nodded solemnly. "Though I thought the people here weak at first, I see now that what they lack in martial prowess, they compensate for in unity. I have never before slept so well, nor been free of pain. The selflessness and generosity of the people here would be inconceivable to me if I were not witnessing it first hand. Is the entirety of this galaxy of similar stock?"

''We of the Federation believe it is up to each people to choose and fulfill its own destiny the way it best sees fit,'' the Vulcan answered. ''Although some like the Klingons prefer to make it a violent one, and others like the Romulans to play the Game of Deceit and Guile, it is this attitude of recognized freedom, within the limits of what does not prove detrimental to others, that gives the Federation it's peace and prosperity. Not fearing an assassin's dagger or a conqueror at your doorstep certainly contributes to such success, individually and as a whole.''

He lifted his glass of Altair water between them.

''Never confuse softness with weakness. Look at water. Water is soft, shapeless, formless, plying itself to any recipient or crack, absorbing and changing with any temperature. Yet always remains what it is; the simplest and most abundant molecule in the universe, able to interact with almost all other substances. It can flow and it can crash, slide over soft clay or erode the hardest rock. That is what best exemplifies true strength; that is the kind of strength you find in the United Federation of Planets.''

The displaced Vulcan woman bowed respectfully. "Thank you for the enlightenment. I will use your lessons to become stronger and further my own studies toward integration into this society."

''And perhaps, you yourself could eventually enlighten me, as to how our people fared in this universe of yours,'' Sonak prompted. ''We do have a dark part of our history and of our soul. Ignoring it would be as illogical as denying it. What you and your kind went through, how you coped with it to survive and perhaps prosper, that would undoubtebly help us understanding ourselves better; the first step to true wisdom and fulfillment.''




Walking from the bar to a small table in the far corner of the lounge where Mona was waiting, Mnhei'sahe Dox had two drinks in her hands and her head hung low. The first was an iced tea for her Miradonian mate, the second a glass of lehe'jhme juice.

The red-headed Romulan pilot had been making a concerted effort to curb her drinking, and wanted to redouble that effort under the circumstances. Drinking just made her wallow in her own sadness, self-pity and self-destructive thoughts and she didn't need any help with that at the moment. Taking the seat that kept her back to the assemblage of her fellow crewmembers, Dox sat down and gave Mona her drink silently.

Mona placed one hand on her love's hand and squeezed it gently. She could still feel the bond, but it was faint - probably because of what they had all just been through. "Things will get better."

That she could feel anything at all gave Dox a little bit of comfort. Speaking softly so as to not disturb anyone else, she looked down at their hands. "I think Gaia... did something. Hera said that 8th Gate in my head was unclosable. But I feel like maybe Gaia slammed it shut when she pulled out of my head. This... this is all I can feel other than my own thoughts now."

Then Dox looked away, staring at her own drink, wishing she had just gotten something... anything... hard. She was embarrassed at her own self-absorbed words. "Sorry. It's hardly important now, I guess, considering..." A tear ran down her face as she thought of Ila.

"To me, you're the most important." Mona reached up and brushed away her Minay's tears before pulling her love closer so they could rest their heads together and stare out the window together. "And besides, as long as we remember her and honor her, Ila isn't truly gone, is she?"

Struggling to think of something to say, Dox found nothing. No important words that would mean anything. No thoughtful observations that could yank the sting out of her heart. So she just spoke.

"I keep thinking about when I first met her. I mean, for real." Dox sniffed as she spoke. "The first time we talked... it was that day. It was when Anansi was here trying to get that helmet. He... he got to her first. Trapped her in her own head. We had barely spoken before it happened."

Clutching Mona's hand tighter, the young Romulan woman shut her eyes, desperate to feel the warm blue glow of her Love's inner light the way she could before. Feeling only a hint of it's strength through her broken mind only made her sadder as she spoke. "I dragged her, unconscious, through the ship. Got her away from him... but afterwards... When it was all over... we really didn't speak. I don't know why. Now it's just another lost opportunity. A missed connection that's gone forever."

Openly crying now, Dox held Mona as tight as she could, whispering. "What else is this mission going to take away?"

"Those are the hardest losses to come to terms with - those where we barely knew the person and they were right there. You always meant to get to know them and you always thought you had time." Mona squeezed her love tighter, trying to hold the two of them together.

"I worked with her on several of my projects and she was always there to lend a hand. Every time I was stuck on something, It seemed she always had some sort of mad scientist solution ready for me. The basis for the Thunderchicken variable flight frame was an old archive blueprint she dug out of the vault in the pod. When she asked for help with that Quantum Displacement Drive's navigation system, I jumped at the chance to help her."

Mona thrummed softly as she spoke. We'll get our bond back up to full strength and when we do, I promise I'll share these memories with you, Minay. Okay?"

A weak, whispered, "Okay." was all Mnhei'sahe could squeak out. She was feeling overwhelmed by all of it. By her sadness, guilt, pain, loneliness and shame. She desperately wanted to feel nothing as she put the thought of a drink out of her mind and instead tried to focus on Mona's thrumming. That sound and sensation that brought her so much comfort that she so desperately needed at that moment. She could feel that, and it was a rare good feeling that she clung to.

The brightly plumed Moradonian snuggled with her mate and thrummed softly as they both just sat there and focussed on each other while everything else in the lounge went on as normal around them.





Hera had been escorted to the lounge to celebrate and had partaken of the Illaran's homeworld's wine, enjoying it as she joined Doctor Asa Dael. "I would like to say that the sting of loss lessens over time, but one as bright as she... No, if you ever stop feeling loss as painfully as this, then it's time to step back and figure out when you've become an evil goddess."

Snuffling softly, Asa rested their head on Hera’s shoulder. In their grief, some of the professional decorum had fallen away, and Asa was just another sad, lost person.

“I… I don’t think I’m in danger of that,” they responded. “Every death hurts. This one… this feels like I’m ripping my own guts out. How do I do this? How do I keep getting this hurt and then keep loving?”

After wiping away a tear, they concluded in a soft voice, “She deserved better than this. She deserved to live, and I feel like I failed her.”

Hera pulled Asa into a tight hug, patting the Doctor's head tenderly. "One thing I've learned in all my years is that when one sacrifices themselves for a greater good, it's never that the survivors failed. It's that they felt there was no other choice and that they were willing to do this for those they left behind. The best thing we can do now is to remember that pain and honor her memory by living on."

Returning the hug, Asa snuffled a moment before saying, “At least I have you here. It’s…daunting… to know how many years are ahead of me, and knowing that most of the people that are so dear to me now will be lost in the blink of an eye. Even the longer lived ones like Mnhei’sahe…..they are all gone so soon. I never understood why the elders warned young El-Aurians to stay distant from other peoples, but I begin to see it now. I think they were trying to save us from this pain, but that’s a cop out too, isn’t it? I can’t imagine my life without any of you, and I’m determined to cherish the time I have with each of them. Still… it’s nice to know I won’t be alone in 500 years’ time. You know?”

Hera nodded, wiping the tears from Asa's eyes. "I can't promise to always be here, but I'll do my best. My people supposedly only live around a quarter of a million cycles and I've burnt through a fifth of that so far. I've gotten to know a lot of people along the way though, and you know what? Every one of them has been unique in some way. Not getting to know them would have been a waste."

“Yeah, I… I wish I knew Ila better. I always thought there would be more time. Pretty dumb, huh?” Asa whispered.

"It is when we think we have time when we lose the most. One of my biggest regrets is not spending enough time with my mortal children. They live a lot longer than most, but in the end, they too grew old and passed on before I realized it." Hera spoke softly as she cradled Asa tenderly. "When I died that first time, I was actually relieved. I thought I could see them again, but my people's souls are destined for a different afterlife, it seems."

"So if it is dumb, we all fall into that fallacy."

“Oh Hera,” Asa said, “I’m so sorry. You… you don’t still feel that way do you? Relieved? You would tell me if you did, right? I might be able to help… I can at least listen. I would love to hear about your children. I’m sure they made you proud.”

Concerned their friend was harboring hurts that would continue to wound her, Asa felt keenly what it was like to miss family as well. Hoping to provide a bit of comfort, they sent a tendril of their mental energy towards Hera, a gentle kiss of the mind brushing against the goddess’s psyche, a simple hello and a hug they were not sure could be perceived, but hoped it could.

Hera felt it and was appreciative, physically returning the comfort she felt. "I'll tell you all about them later, okay? I'll admit I wasn't the most kind to my step children, but I loved them as well. For now, let's enjoy the time we do have together, find those that fear death, and help them live better."





Samuel Clemens, the man of mystery, stood alone, a glass of non-replicated 180 proof Missouri corn whiskey in his hand, sipped but once, during the toast to the yeoman he'd gotten to know while she and he had combed the Vault for illicit and secret Section 31 hardware that might be used against the goddess Hera, so long ago that she had been a deadly enemy.

Had it really been such a short time, he mused to himself, remembering the polite and brilliant young keeper of secrets and her lack of distress at being so close to such powerful and legendary devices. He held out similar hope that she was merely off discovering a strange new realm, seeking out new minerals, and new crystallizations.

And then, he saw her. Not Ila. Lady Death. She was standing alone, looking out of the viewport lining the entire later wall of the Ten Forward section.

He slowly approached her, and came to a stop nearby, looking outward toward the azure-tinted inner asteroid belt. "D'yuh s'pose she's out theah, explorin' this unf'miliyuh tableau? Still kyuryus, still kawnk'rihn new gnaw'lej?"

Clemens looked to the right, head tilted slightly, making it clear that it wasn't a mere conversational gambit.

The pale woman stared up at Clemens for a moment, deciding how to answer that question. "I honestly don't know. I just know that I haven't collected and she's no longer within my sight."

The piercing blue eyes looked down into those of the avatar of a universal force, doing what he was best at- seeking truth. After an eternity/moment, he was satisfied, but genuinely-puzzled. He lowered his voice. "So- it wuz huh time, but she's… lawst?"

"Lost to my powers at least. I'll have to confer with the others. As for it being her time... That I will keep my own council on, but this was not what I saw." Death never lied - she couldn't in her line of work. But in this case at least, she felt it best to at least not reveal all the cards she had seen. She then glanced over her shoulder at the bar. "Hey... Since so few people can see me and the computer barely recognizes me... Do you think you could snag me a fruit juice or something? No alcohol please."

The man with the golden tongue smiled at the diminutive powerhouse, nodding, "Fuh yew, m'laydeh, ah'move thuh stahs themsaelves."

He made his way toward the refreshment area, a glimmer of hope now bolstered by her very Intel-like answer.

He returned with a tropical mix, with just the tiniest touch of rum extract just for flavor, and presented it to the Incarnation with a small flourish.

"There yuh go, may'uhm."

The pale woman gracefully accepted the drink with a wide smile. "Thank you, kind sir. I greatly appreciate it."

The ginger gentleman bowed from his waist a bit, the ones of his string tie remaining perpendicular to the deck, his ancient finery looking brand-new, though they must have been some 500 years old, if originals.

"It wuz truleh mah pleasyuh, ma'am. Ah've been meaning to thank yuh prawhpuhly, foah assistin' in muh retuhn trip to th'ship. As such, yuh have muh gratitude."

"I merely guided one that was able to facilitate in your return and refused to collect. This crew as a whole is far too entertaining and your loss would have been great." The pale woman sipped at her drink mysteriously as she eyed the southern gentleman with a wink.






Thex hadn't said much. The shock of losing one of the crew combined with coming face to face with a planet killer that made the one stopped by Kirk look like a tadpole was quite the day. Now the andorian poured herself a long drink. Drinking did always help get the emotions out.

Enalia joined her, pouring a drink for herself as well. "So Primordius is a little bit bigger than expected. Who would have thought he'd be a giant, angry, all-consuming, ice cream cone?"

"You know, somehow I'm not surprised. Well, any more than I was when I read the first report and watched the trideo of Commodore Decker ramming the Constellation down it's throat... and that worked. Poor Uncle Matt. He was a good man and a good officer. Losing his entire crew like that destroyed him. I wonder if he's a cautionary tale at the Academy these days?" Flopping herself unceremoniously onto the couch next to the other two women, Rita fished her handheld out of her top and tossed it on the table, before taking a long drink of the double scotch in her hand.

"Little note from my spoilerish niece of the future. It's vague enough to not be Temporal Prime Directive actionable, really just a pep talk from the kid. But you should see it all the same," she declared, taking another drink. At the speed she was going, Rita was headed toward hammered in a hurry. "Proud of that kid..."

Thex had already downed two glasses and was starting on another. "Yeah, and the one he and the Enterprise killed was a tadpole compared to this one. How the hell can we stop something that big?" she said as she downed another half of her glass. She was wracking her brain for another mention of a planet killer. Where she'd heard it, she couldn't remember.

Enalia picked up the PaDD and watched the message. When it was done, she nodded and set it back on the table. "Yeah that's only a little spoilerish. Doesn't tell us much more than to listen to your human guts, really, and I've already been doing that. So... What does your gut tell us about Big P?"

Polishing off the remainder of the synthehol scotch, Rita signaled for another while making a frowny face. While she had learned to accept it, she hated the taste of scotch. But at a wake for the lost, this is what the officers of her day drank, and the tradition gave her some comfort. After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d been in a bar raising a glass to lost comrades, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“I’ve been going over it in my head, and… I don’t know. We could try to reason with him, but… his existence is pure destruction. There’s nowhere in this reality that we could convince him to go that it wouldn’t be problematic, even if we could convince him to leave this galaxy and brave the Galactic Barrier. That would just be shoving our problems onto someone else, who probably also couldn’t deal with it.” As the waiter dropped off the next tumbler of synthetic scotch on the table, Rita picked it up and took another long draught, signaling for another.

“This titan… that neutronium hull is impenetrable. The sheer size of it invalidates most of our weaponry. Phasers won’t scratch it, and the thing eats stars. There is no ‘ram a big explosion down it’s gullet’ solution, because no explosion we could cause could equal the energy output of a star. Photon torpedoes, quantum torpedoes, even Genesis… wait.” The resourceful old officer sat bolt upright, the casual posture she had adopted gone in a flash, as was her synthetic buzz. Eyes wide open and alert, Paris looked around to insure that the command trio had a modicum of privacy. Leaning in conspiratorially, she whispered to the Captain and Second Officer.

“In the armory… when I took it over, there was a secured section, and I was afraid French and Sexton were up to something awful. But there are…” Looking around furtively to insure they were not being overheard, Paris leaned in closer. “There are four Genesis torpedoes in the Intel Pod armory. I’d have to check with Sonak for the science but… that might just do the trick. Just having them onboard I am reasonably certain violates a few peace treaties, and using one might just cause a galactic diplomatic incident. But… that might just work. If we fired all four of them, the wave that can terraform a planet might be sufficient to terraform an entity that consumes stars, if we hit him with it while he was in the act. Because then we know for sure his gullet is open and there is sufficient energy to power any sort of reaction.”

Unconventional, daring and decidedly dangerous; it was the sort of brainstorm the lost navigator was known for, in any era.

"But for all we know, that could make things even worse," Thex said, leaning in closer so others wouldn't hear. She was feeling rather annoyed at finding out there had been a Genesis torpedo barely 100 meters away from her bedroom, but knowing this ship, it wasn't that surprising. "I mean, for all we know it could make it even hungrier."

"If you're suggesting we cancel out his energy using the same energies Gaia was using..." Enalia was about to brush it off, but then sat up as well, her brows furrowed. "We'd need to fire it into his gullet... And some way to guarantee it was tweaked right... Is that what your guts are telling you?"

“If by my guts you mean that weird little part of my brain that babbles crazy plans when there are seemingly no options and all seems lost… yeah.” Rita paused, swirling the scotch around in the tumbler as she considered. “The torpedoes were part of the Section 31 armory, and we inherited them with the pod. Once we had them, disposing of them became problematic- firing them into a sun was no guarantee they might not activate. Disassembling them is nearly as dangerous, so we carried them until a solution presented itself. It might not be the best political move, but stopping him before he consumes another entire system…”

“Computer,“ Rita called out. “Please predict Primordius’ most likely path should he continue consuming the nearest star once he has finished this one, and so forth. How long until he encounters an inhabited and developed system?”

The computer projected a small starscreen, an image of the Alpha quadrant, and a red line projected the course between the stars, moving one to the next to the next. Which led it on a likely projected path to Romulus, then earth, the Andoria, then to Vulcan before Rita called it to a halt.



“Weird side course to Earth, but the computer says so, I'll buy it. So given that Romulus, Earth, Andoria and Vulcan are on the menu, the political fallout might be manageable,” she admitted. “To answer your question, Captain? That’s the best idea I’ve got so far. I’ve been racking my brain since we discovered he and Gaia were yin and yang and that we’d have to face him too. What worked for Gaia we can certainly try with Primordius, but we don’t have the ‘in’ that we had with her, Lieutenant Dox looks pretty miserable over there, so I suspect she might not be up for being the psionic collect call maker. As what passes for our resident diplomat even so I don’t know we can convince him to just go away, since Gaia's retreat didn’t seem to affect him.”

“In short, yes, captain… that’s the best idea that I have so far. If it makes it any easier, I’ll take responsibility for it. I sort of don’t exist, so I will take the political hit for it. If they need to crucify someone for using a Genesis device, it may as well be the gal whose bright idea it was instead of the commanding officer.” While it might seem like a platitude, an offer not intended to be taken, Rita Paris was quite serious. As upsetting as it had been for her to find out about the Genesis project and the fact that such capability was onboard the Hera, she had moved from wild idea to solid plan of action in about a minute. But then, that was most definitively her style.

"If we are going to shoot it with the genesis torpedoes I'll need to take a look at them first. Unless we have a detailed report of them, they may have been lying around in a section 31 warehouse for decades." Thex added, her engineering nature jumping back into the forefront of her head.

“I’ve no objection to that. But bear in mind, Thex, if you inspect them… then you are getting involved,” the gold-clad commander explained. “If the court martial comes round, that would implicate you as well. At this point I can assume responsibility and claim I acted alone… not so much if you inspect them. Not that I wouldn’t be happy for the help, but you have a burgeoning family and a career to think of, Thex. I don’t want you to have your career ruined by my reckless plan.”

"Given the alternatives that could happen, a court-martial seems the least of my worries." Thex said, her own twisted sense of humor causing a grin to form over her face. "Given that if we don't stop it, there may not be a Federation left to have a career in anyway, we don't have much of a choice."

Enalia nodded solemnly at the assessment and finished her drink, waving for a refill. "I have to agree. I'd rather there be someone to have a political crisis with. As for those torpedoes, Ila inspected them and said that they were far more advanced than the prototype that was invented by Doctor Marcus when she briefed me on them." Leaning back on the couch, she sighed heavily. "Dang it, I wish she was here to go over this with us. She actually knew all those secrets up in the pod."

"Yeoman Dedjoy was also all about paperwork. I'm willing to bet she shared all of those files with you regularly in a folder somewhere. The woman was incredibly responsible for someone who dabbled in exotic energies. Whenever I entered and whenever I removed an item from the armory, she noted it, and it was reported." Paris' face squinched up again, her chin receding as a wave of grief washed over her.

"You'd better not be dead, you hear me Dedjoy?" Rita looked around, but there was no ghostly image at the edge of her perception, no electromagnetic pull in a direction. While she had no extrasensory perception when she wasn't piggybacking on Sonak's skills and abilities, the old officer firmly believed she had a feel for the weird. But she didn't feel anything, she didn't see anything. Still, she persisted in her belief. "You'd better be sitting in one of these chairs at your own wake, wondering when and how we're going to find you, and this will all be a funny story that you can tell my kids someday."

"We gave her permission to die... not that we could have stopped her. Security team takes 21 seconds to get into the pod, and that's with a pair of watchmen guarding the lift access. That... that was hard, ma'am. Ain't gonna lie. I mean, that's a life of danger for ya, but... " Rita shook her head.

"In that twenty one seconds, the ship and crew would have been destroyed." Enalia sipped at her fresh drink before continuing. "Sometimes you have to order someone to their deaths to save the ship. That's part of command, and you know it. The safety of the ship has to come first, because without it, there is no safety for the ship. I can guarantee this though. The plaque that I hand carve the names of every crewmember I've lost will have a special place set aside for her name tonight."

“I know, Captain… I know. It just never gets any easier, and I hope it never does. I know you and she were very close… I won’t give up on her, ma’am. Dedjoy was one of the bravest women I’ve ever known, and I refuse to count her out until we’ve exhausted every possibility. So maybe don’t carve that name on the wall of the fallen just yet, ma’am.” As she said that Rita stiffened, wide-eyed as the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood up, and she got that ‘standing too close to a transporter’ feeling.

The spotted Captain easily caught that reaction and recognized it from transporter room security footage and was instantly alert. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

“Damndest thing, I… felt something. I can’t quantify it, but it felt like… like that feeling I get when I get near a transporter, but… different. I think it’s what people say it feels like when someone walks over your grave.” Looking around, Paris quirked an eyebrow in a distinctly Vulcan manner. When she spoke, her voice was a whisper. “Dedjoy, is that you?”

Once again, she felt that same sensation, but just in her right hand. A slow smile spread across her face as Paris narrowed the possibilities. “Tap me on the shoulder twice, slowly?”

As she felt the odd sensation on her shoulder, that smile became a grin of triumph. “You never fail to amaze me, Yeoman. Hang on- we’ll get it worked out and get you back, I swear.” Turning to face the captain, the reconstituted ghost grinned broadly. “We might not have a lot of time, but she’s still here, ma’am. We’ve still got a chance to save her, so don’t count her out just yet!”

Enalia's eyes were as wide as the Hera's saucers. "I guess I won't be carving her name in my plaque just yet. So how do we get her back? Can we get her back?"

"We could try using the transporter. Same way we got Rita back." Thex said as she sprang to her feet. "We should have a copy of her last transport in the log."

“In this case, it’s hard to get a lock on a ghost. So I’d say we try using the Section 31 transporter in the Intel Pod, as it should be able to get a lock on her,” Paris opined, as this was something she knew a little bit about. “Lucky will be happy to help, I’m sure, assuming she didn’t disassemble the S31 transporter to build the quantum leaper she installed. Let’s move, and do it quietly. The fewer people who know what we’re trying, the better, I think.”

Enalia stood and finished her drink, setting the glass aside. "I agree. I'll go apprise the Commodore of our situation and plans while you two head to the S31 transporter. The AI up there has access to all of Ila's notes... Lucky? Is that his name now? I'll update the logs from his software designation of L47-KY. I'm sure he'll grant you access to anything you need."

"I'll get Sonak, because he's the foremost expert in weird transportings thanks to his plucky sidekick over the years, and we'll head for the pod." Rising from the table, Rita was a gal on a mission. "For now, let's keep it quiet... but let's go save Miss Dedjoy."

Having quietly collected Lieutenant Sonak from the wake, Commander Rita Paris and Lieutenant Commander Thex sh'Zoarhi left the 10-Forward lounge to make their way to the specific turbolift entrance that would grant them access to the Intel Pod mounted atop the saucer section of the USS Hera. As they did so, Paris outlined the plan.

"I believe Yeoman Dedjoy might not have been killed in that quantum surge, but transformed, in a manner not unlike I have achieved on occasion via transporter," the ghost of the 23rd century explained. "There is an experimental transporter in the Intel pod that once locked onto me when I was a quantum ghost, and reconstituted me. I believe the yeoman is with us, and that she is trying to communicate with me."

As they exited the turbolift to approach the connecting one to the pod, the two Security officers stood at parade rest, waiting to be challenged. "Accessing Intel Pod, authorization Paris, R, LTCDR, 867-5309, plus two."

As the lift door slid open, she muttered under her breath, "And a half..."

"So, assuming I'm not insane, we're going to try to coordinate with Lucky, the AI in the pod who is familiar with the systems to try reintegrating her. As the preeminent authority on retrieving quantum displaced individuals, Mr. Sonak is here to lend his expertise. Miss sh'Zoarhi, you are here because we're bound to have to cross-wire something to make this work, and better safe than sorry. I'm here because I think we have a chance, and I will not give up until we have exhausted every possible avenue of rescue." There was determination in the curvaceous commander's voice, as this was incredibly important to her. She had lived through the living hell of being a warp ghost for nearly five years, and she refused to consign Dedjoy to such a fate if there was any chance to help her. "Questions?"

The andorian noded. She'd always wondered what was draining power from her girl up here, and it would be nice to get a chance to poke around- even if the first priority was to get Dedjoy back.

The pod was definitely from a different ship, as the walls were detailed not in the beige and gold of the rest of the ship, nor in the creams of the newer parts, but in silver, metallic white, and Federation blue. It was, to those of the past eras, downright dystopian sterile in many ways. On the flip side, the lounge they passed looked like it had been transplanted from an NX class, but with modern amenities like replicators and holographic displays that were currently set to display the forward view of the ship as seen from the pod sensor arrays on one side, and open space on the other. The top of the saucer and Primordius in the distance, all being passively scanned as evidenced by several readouts which were showing on subwindows within the flawless holographic display.

Tapping her antique Starfleet delta badge, the extradimensional explorer addressed the overhead. "Lucky? It's Rita. We need your help. We think Yeoman Dedjoy is still somewhat with us on a quantum level, and we need your help reconstituting her. We need access to the Section 31 transporter and, well, you. Are you with us?"

The male British voiced AI spoke up over the comms. "Hello Commander. It's good to see you again. I was beginning to wonder what happened to Ila when her sensor signatures up and vanished from within the ship. As for her current whereabouts..." Lucky processed some data for a moment before continuing. "There she is. I am currently tracking a brainwave signature inside of the network that matches hers. I have unsealed the transporter lab and it is ready for you at your leisure."

"Thanks, Lucky," Paris said to the overhead, then walked into the sterile white chamber of the s31 transporter, with the sealed system at the far side of the chamber. "So we have to figure out how to use the technology, and get a fix on Yeoman Dedjoy. So, if you two would be so kind, let's roll up our sleeves and figure out how to save our shipmate, shall we? Lucky and yes/no Dedjoy are here as well, to assist us as we figure this out."

The chief science officer of the Hera projected a graphical computer image of what he was explaining, the calculations scrolling beside it.

''Basically, quantum realms are identified by a specific energy signature called a resonance. Each realm has it's unique resonance, not unlike a radio frequency. The key part will be to first pinpoint the exact quantum resonance of our subject. When we have a material piece or energy wave originating from the target realm, it is easy to determine the exact resonance and reproduce it with a quantum generator, be it a simple one like a transporter pattern buffer. But here, our first difficulty is to find the exact resonance without any such source.''

"Oh I have that source," replied Lucky. "It's the resonance of the particles and the entire quantum network in which they travel. As I said, I'm tracking Ila's brainwaves within the network. Her body... She'll need a new one..." As Lucky spoke, he popped up a quantum matrix overlay of the room which showed several quantum filaments passing through and a rough outline of a person near Rita. "As you can see, because of unshielded quantum particle exposure, only about seventy percent of her biomass remains."

''Fascinating,'' said Sonak looking at the quantum display. ''Our second difficulty now will be to recuperate as much of it as possible; and ensure that it is at least and first and foremost the brain mass that we get back completely. As it is the seat of consciousness, it is paramount that not even one particle be missing... or else what we will get is an altered version, possibily to the point of unviability, even in a host body.''

He turned his grey eyes towards the others with a pensive expression.

''Our third problem will be just that; finding a host body.''

Thex was listening as she went about her work. This stuff was far more advanced than the rest of the ship. " We could store her brain waves in the holomatrix if needed. That should give us some time to find her a suitable host body. "


The British voiced AI once again piped up with a hopefully helpful recommendation. "If I may, Ila was working with me to begin development on a bio-netic android body in her personal lab. The core systems are essentially complete but it's little more than a skinless torso and head. Perhaps you could find a way to use it? Alternately, I could offer up my own AI matrix to house her."

"Well, let me take a look at it," Thex said as she headed for the lab. It didn't take long before she found the incomplete body. Hu… this could work. I'll need to do a few things to get it working. If i rewire the Dynamic Control Drive to take info from the Inertial Dissipation Injector and then rewire it all into Central Pulse Capacitor i could get it working. If the Multiphasic Deflector Transmitter holds it should be able to store her mind."

Without delay, the work began. Thex and Sonak pulled up all the files the AI, Lucky, could provide on the experimental android frame before them and buried themselves in their efforts.

Within the volumes of files provided by Luck was something unexpected. Schematics for the android known as Kodria, left there with a holographically recorded note, addressed to Thex. A message from their recent past with the key to unlocking the hope for Ila's future.

“I had a hunch you might need these sooner than later, so I left you a copy of my own schematics. Good luck with them!”

Renewed by this newfound hope, the brilliant minds dove into their herculean task. The work went long into the night, rewiring connections, replacing pieces as needed and pooling their skills and accumulated knowledge to do what others might think was impossible and convert a developing android brain to contain the quantum signature and mental patterns of a living being.

Standing by, all Rita Paris could do was watch and occasionally hand a tool in to the duo as they worked on levels that would stagger any five other engineers and scientists. For her part, the time displaced officer did the only thing she could do by attempting to offer comfort and friendship to Ila Dedjoy, whom she could feel standing near her. In fact, for the hours that Sonak and Thex worked, Rita never felt Dedjoy's quantum presence, invisible and undetectable to all but her, leave her side. She spoke and kept up a mostly one-sided conversation with the ghost of her friend, reassuring her that she was not alone and they were working to save her from a fate far worse than death. It was all she could do, but she would not fail the frightened young woman who had saved her own life twice now.

Nor would Sonak or Thex, as they pushed themselves past the point of exhaustion into the early hours of the morning before coming to a point where the only thing they could do was trust in their skills. The body had no limbs or coverings. It was bare and cosmetically basic, but its inner workings were among the most advanced imaginable. With neural pathways and positronic connections that only waited to be activated and inhabited.

With the body ready and everything hooked up inside the three person transport booth, the team stood back behind the control console and stared at the holographic interface while Lucky performed the final calculations. "This will only take a moment..." After the all nighter the team had pulled, even the british AI sounded exhausted.

Pathways were being calculated and recalculated from the tingling on Rita's shoulder into the partial android body. Still, Lucky was having trouble finding a 100% match.

After nearly ten minutes of searching, he finally got a solid lock and all patterns went green. "Commander Paris, if you would be so kind as to do the honors of popping that big red button a good one for us?"

Mouthing a silent prayer to the universe, the transporter-phobic first officer pressed the shiny red button on the experimental transporter and hoped for the best. “Come on Dedjoy, come back to us…”

As soon as she did so, the chamber sprayed the quantum particles in an unusual pattern around the android body and for a moment the form of Ila Dedjoy in an EV suit could be seen hovering over it filled with pock-holes and scars. After a moment the image faded and the particles swarmed faster, flowing into the android body, which lit up and cycled through bootup.

Lucky's voice echoed through the stark white S31 transporter room, which was altogether too silent now. "Particle decay complete. Chamber is clear and unsealed. Scanning... Brainwave pattern detected... Match found. Yeoman Ila Dedjoy."
“Miss Dedjoy, are you in there? Are you all right? Can you hear me?” the strain and tension of the night was evident in the voice of the lost navigator, who had once herself been salvaged from being a quantum ghost in this very room, by the very woman they now sought to save from just such a fate.

Karma was never dull.

The head of the android body looked up at Rita, the large blue eyes cycling slowly as they focused. "Commander?" The voice was a bit digitized since there were no fleshy bits to vocalize with, but it was clearly Ila's. "That was the worst away mission... It made those giant spiders... Seem like... A soda run..."

“Hello, Miss Dedjoy,” the relief evident in the curvaceous commander’s voice was clearly evident, as tears filled her eyes. “I knew better than to count you out. That was an incredibly brave thing you did… I’m here today able to thank you for it because you did, as is everyone onboard. This may not be the most ideal solution for now- I assume you were here for all of this and you know why we chose the course of action that we did. But for now at least you’re safe, and we can working on retrieving your biological form now that your mind is at least safe.”

"Lucky, how much of my biological form is left?" asked the quantum tossed adventurer.

Lucky cleared his digital throat and pronounced the results of his scans of the network. "Approximately fifty seven percent. I had to reconstitute some of your mental pathways from different points in the timeline... In another twenty four hours, the network will have completely consumed your physical form. Ninety six hours after that, the residual brain patterns will be gone from the network."

Ila nodded, the sounds of her neck servos not yet muffled. "I can still feel myself in the network. I think... The genesis warheads... I think I can guide their development from within the network like this. Tell Enalia I've got it."

“Yeoman Dedjoy, you never cease to amaze me. I will let her know, and at current I’m planning to fire all four, so please be aware of that. I will definitely pass the message to the captain and… welcome back, Ila.” The smile on the first officer’s face was a sad but hopeful one. “Bless you for being just as determined and stubborn a ghost that has ever haunted the Hera.”

Ila smiled up at Rita as best she could. "I prefer to do my haunting with the living. By the way... Someone has to water my plants until I get some arms and legs. Do you mind?"

“I think that may be the very least I can do, Yeoman…”

"Hnave, I look like hell." Mnhei'sahe Dox mutters as she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror of the quarters she shared with Ensign Mona Gonadie.

The Miradonian pilot had left a few minutes prior to hold down the fort in the Flight Control office for the day while Dox was on helm duty and it left the Romulan pilot alone with her thoughts.

Looking in the mirror, there were bags visible under her eyes from an exceedingly poor nights sleep and her curly, auburn hair was a bit more disheveled then normal. It had been months since she had seen the ships salon and her short cut was growing out and in need of some attention so she simply pulled it back into a short, but still regulation, pony tail. But she wasn't feeling particularly attentive to her appearance at the moment, all things considered.

The night earlier had been one of the most tumultuous she had yet experienced since joining the crew of the Hera and she was still trying to work through how she was feeling about everything that had occurred.

Yeoman Ila Dedjoy was gone. Seemingly killed in a burst of quantum energy utilizing some kind of quantum drive to transport the ship to safely from the all-consuming event horizon caused by a collapsing singularity. That singularity was created by the cosmic Titan Gaia when she had chosen to leave this universe.

That was a choice that the powerful entity had come to, in no small part, thanks to Mnhei'sahe Dox. Months ago, a shard of Gaia's consciousness had bonded with that of the red-headed Romulan. And thanks to an artificially opened doorway in Dox's mind, it enabled the command crew to join their minds to hers in order to reach out to that part of the goddess Gaia and convince her to stop her mission of galactic destruction.

And they were successful. Gaia changed her mind thanks to the combined efforts of Dox, Mona Gonadie, Commander Rita Paris, Lieutenant Sonak, Doctor Asa Dael and the ships Intel Chief, Sam Clemens. Together, their joined minds used the power in Dox's to reach out and talk down a god. And for a time, it felt good. It felt like a great achievement. Dox faces one of her biggest fears to allow the Titan into her mind and she and her friends saved an entire star system. But then Ila Dedjoy had to sacrifice herself so they could escape, and that sense of pride was completely replaced with guilt.

But there was more than that on the young pilot's mind as she walked over to her closet and put on her crimson uniform top. That opened gate in her mind that made this all possible... that gate that had made her a target of psychic attacks for months now... that gate that had also enabled her to bond telepathically with her mate, Mona, had been closed.

When Gaia pulled out of the joined psychic link, it was as if she had slammed that psychic door shut and locked it behind her. The door was closed and she could now only barely feel Mona when they touched. Her mind was her own again, but she was now alone in it again and she felt a tremendous sense of loss.

On the flip side of that, however, her mind was no longer an open door inviting psychic invasion in, which was also a tremendous relief. And it was all of these conflicting emotions and the lack of the telepathic bond that had been helping her relax at night that had lead to a fitful night of staring at the ceiling and thinking too much.

At the dresser, she affixed her Starfleet comm badge and twin pips of rank to the front of her uniform as she took a breath and prepared for her duty. She was looking forward to her work, as it would help her get out of her own head until she could see Mona again. Their bond was significantly weaker now, but still there and the Miradonian pilot had promised that they would work together to restore their link to its full strength and she wanted that more than anything right now. But duty can first and Dox looked forward to being able to focus on anything other than her own thoughts.

Which is when the computer chirped and a message came through. "CDR PARIS: LT DOX: Please report to my office prior to bridge duty."

Immediately, Dox felt a bit nervous as she tapped her badge to respond. "Aye Commander. I'm on my way."

Wondering what was wrong, Dox gave herself one last look in the mirror as she adjusted her uniform. "Ugh... Well, this is as good as it gets today." After a short breath, she left her quarters to the First Officer's office.

Located on Deck 2, the for'd facing office of Commander Paris appeared, for all intents and purposes, like a reproduction of her old office on the USS Exeter from 130 years ago. Clutter covered the walls, covered with shelves magnetically holding the bric-a-brac she had accumulated from years of strange adventures exploring space. The old irregularly-shaped conference table with the tiny tri-screen monitor was still there, for old time's sake, as were the pleather padded plastic chairs of the era. Photos of heroes of Starfleet past, mostly handsome white men with cocky smiles were scattered about on the walls, including one of herself, her brother and her father. One image depicted an animated pair that looked like a black-armored cartoon version of Rita with a nebbish wearing a blue button-down shirt and a ballcap, mugging for the camera like a happy couple.

A trideo image showed a handsome blonde captain in the captain's chair of a shiny version of the old-school bridge, leaning forward smugly with his hand on his chin. Beside and slightly behind him was to the right, the somber scientist Sonak, and to his left, Rita Paris, in the same uniform she wore today, a large and clunky PDD on her hip, posed like a pin-up and baring that million-watt smile. A photo behind her desk bore a photograph of an aged and dignified fleet admiral in a stiff white formal uniform, which was clearly autographed, 'To Captain Rita Paris, Admiral Jonathan Archer'.

Alongside the books and a few odd geometric shapes were models of old starships that had never existed in this reality, as well as some that had. Vostoks and Mercuries, Apollo Soyuz and a Phoenix. One shelf at her own eye level when seated was the Constitution of this era, the Exeter from her own universe, and the refit Enterprise. Near the door hung a pair of bronze bracers and a gladius. They were not ornate workmanship, a bit thick and crude appearing, yet clearly Grecian in style if not origin. Behind her desk hung a stylized dagger wrapped in a golden sash, quite similar to the type worn by a ship's commander in the Terran fleet.

A deeply sentimental woman, Rita Paris surrounded herself with mementos of her past

Although here in her office, the security chief also reviewed footage holographically. Thus the archaic-appearing office was currently awash with screens and screens, as she reviewed reports, did research and tried to ensure that even in a crisis, the starship ran efficiently and without incident. That was her job as First Officer, and she enjoyed keeping a tight ship for the Captain.

Part of which was tending to the crew, which meant a conversation with Lieutenant Dox, who arrived to find the door opening at her approach, to admit her to the office where the lights were currently dim, illuminated by the dozen various sized holographic 'monitor' screens the Starfleet survivor had open and working at the moment. A fossil from the faraway era of rocker switches and dials she might have been, but despite her claims to be technologically challenged, Rita Paris was nothing if not adaptable.

Looking up at the approach of the chief flight control officer, the Commander smiled, a close-lipped and weary smile. Dark circles under her eyes indicated that she likely hadn't slept a wink, but her hair looked controlled, her uniform fresh and her boots shined, as always.

"Good to see you, Miss Dox," Paris stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, then waved the light projections off to forward in front of the viewport. "Computer, one cup of coffee for each of us. That thick stuff Miss Dox drinks, and mine as per usual." As the replicator unit mounted between a pair of stacked books that looked as though they had been displaced by the unit hummed to life, the exhausted executive, sat down. "Help an old lady out and bring me my coffee, would you please?"

Grabbing both cups, Dox walked around to the front of Paris' desk and handed the executive officer her cup, taking a sip of her own as she did. Coffee was exceptionally welcome at the moment. "Here you go."

Not quite knowing what she was being called for, Dox stood nervously for a brief second before asking, "What can I do for you, Commander?"

"Sit down, Dox, please. We've still got twenty minutes before either of us is due on the bridge. So we have time to talk before we go make galactic history. I think maybe it's important to have conversations before such things," Paris added, taking a sip of the accepted coffee, giving Dox a moment.

Most everyone on the ship knew that their next mission was the latest and most impossible in the long string of impossible tasks that the Hera took on, and there was an exceptional sense of tension in the air about it. Dox took the seat across from Paris as directed and took another sip before putting her coffee down, wondering what was about to be discussed.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied, with a touch of nerves evident in her voice.

"So, we were part of a mind meld. A multiple mind meld, a circuit between all of us and a cosmic being of unimaginable power. All sorts of new experiences in one day," the experienced executive expressed dryly. "And let's not forget, we accomplished the impossible in succeeding in our mission, thanks to you- said cosmic being decided to wink out of existence as we know it, instead of concentrating on making us extinct by rendering our own worlds unrecognizable and hostile to us. How do you feel about that? Any lingering effects of having your shipmates in your head?"

Thinking for a second, Dox looked down at her feet then back up as she replied somewhat hesitantly. "No. Nothing lingering. As far as I'm aware, quite the opposite, really. A... Doctor Dael gave me a full scan last night and it seems to have confirmed what I felt after Gaia left, but I think that so-called unclosable door in my head is very closed again."

Since Paris' question was two-fold, Dox paused for a second before continuing. "As for how I'm feeling about the idea that we... succeeded... I'm honestly torn. It felt very good at first. Everything I was terrified might happen to all of us in the mind meld... None of it happened. We did it."

A slight smile crept onto the young pilot's lips, but it was a melancholy thing. "So, I felt... I felt great until... well... until Yeoman Dedjoy." As she spoke, Dox forgot she was in a meeting with her First Officer and just began opening up on her conflicted feelings.

"I'm still happy that we did it. But I feel terrible about what it cost us all and it's all just... bouncing around in my head."

"I am pleased to report that we... somewhat... rescued Yeoman Dedjoy." The fulsome first officer sipped her coffee. giveng Dox a few seconds to process that before continuing. "Her body was destroyed in the unshielded exposure to the quantum drive system. But her consciousness lingered, and I guess I'm a little sensitive to that sort of thing. Long and short, we rescued her consciousness, we're currently making her as comfortable as we can in a partial android chassis she was working on. It's not ideal, and we're not sure where we might go with it from here. But suffice to say, it was a long night... but we saved her. So if you're feeling badly over the cost- Yeoman Dedjoy asked me to tell you herself that she's okay."

Across the desk, Dox's eyes went wide. She was still slightly bloodshot with touches of green in the corners of her eyes from crying the night before as her jaw hung open. "Nouhha..." She whispered the Rihan equivalent of 'god' in Rihan.

Looking around for a moment, the shell shocked young officer tried to process what she had just learned as a nervous laugh of happiness popped out.

"Sorry, Commander. I'm just. That's..." Taking a brief second, Dox composed herself, but her emotions were evident as her eyes were watery and she couldn't quite get the corners of her slight smile back to neutral. "I'm... I'm extremely glad to hear that. I am."

"As are we all. I didn't want you lugging that around, because I surely would be if I didn't know. We didn't want to alert the crew unless it was successful, but... well, it was a long and eventful night. But she's... well, not lost, at least. No one left behind. She gets a medal, too." The gold-clad commander set her coffee down and stood, waving for Dox to stay seated. Moving into some long body stretches, Paris limbered up for bridge duty while she spoke.

"Huh... so you aren't as psychically receptive anymore? That must be a relief to you. I knew it freaked you out quite a bit." Rita took a few waist twists in to stretch slowly at the apex of the motion. "So good thing there, right? You didn't seek out the easy answer from Hera, you used it to the galaxy's advantage, and it got shut as a consequence. Which is probably better than becoming cosmically aware, because the mortal mind can't handle it according to all reports. So, win?"

Quickly, Dox's tone shifted slightly and she got slightly melancholy again. "Mostly, yeah. I'm glad that it's shut for the most part. I'm definitely glad that my brain isn't a giant 'welcome' sign for cosmic Gods, for sure." The anxious aviatrix fidgeted slightly.

"The downside is more... personal. It... made it possible for me to... connect with Ensign Gonadie. Like... our heads. It's... It's not gone, but that link is weak now."

"I can see that might be a bit distressing," Rita nodded, picking back up her coffee for another few sips, as it was cooling now. "You might remember, as upsetting as it is for you, it's probably worse for her- she's the one who's psychically sensitive and sharing it with you. So as bad as it is for you, she's probably feeling very vulnerable right now."

"Not to tell you how to run your relationship, but I suspect she needs you to reassure her and show her the loss of that link isn't going to drive you apart, that you're still her hero, and that you're there for her." Holding up her hand, Rita bowed a bit. "Absolutely none of my business and I admit it. But... Sonak and I have been through hard times too, and just because he has no emotions doesn't mean he doesn't feel, y'know?"

Nodding, Dox replied. "I wouldn't have gone into the details if I didn't respect your input here, and not just as my Commander, so thank you."

Taking another sip of her coffee, Dox continued. "But yeah. We talked for a while last night. The connection is still there, so that means my brain is at least still receptive to the training I got with Sonak. So while I might not have that amplification anymore, I'm still capable of retraining my mind. I've got to start over a bit, but we're going to work at rebuilding that every night. Made it a bit hard to sleep, though. It was tough for both of us not having that other head in ours as a kind of comfort. I guess we got very used to that pretty quickly."

Then Dox sat up straight, with a slightly broader smile on her face. "But... But we're going to get there. Together we all talked down a Titan. You helped save Yeoman Dedjoy. Everything we've seen and done... it's weird but it kind of gives me hope."

"That's the spirit, Lieutenant." The cheerful commander and sat back down, spinning around to take in the impossible sight of her old office in the modern day, complete with holographic reports shoved off to one side. "The universe is not unkind, if you are willing to give it a chance. If you expect pain, that's what you'll get. But hope... hope can move mountains, Miss Dox. Hope can cross space and time, for hope is the belief in the impossible with the determination of the courageous."

"That's you, Miss Dox. You are that courageous soul out there, hoping for a better day, a better future, and building it. Would you like to know the primary reason I called you in here this morning? Because yesterday we did mighty things. Because you were braver and stronger than you knew, and you listened to your heart. Because you're a hero." Walking around the desk, Rita perched herself against the edge, so her skirt didn't ride up, and eyed the redheaded Romulan.

"Gaia is no longer spitting out magical M class worlds that are inhospitable to humanoid life because of you. That's galactic hero stuff, Mnhei'sahe. So, this being your first time and all, as your First Officer it behooves me to inform you that you are officially no longer allowed to think poorly of yourself. Because from this point on, when you do think you are worthless and bothersome and fallible and you begin to berate yourself for your many, many faults, just remember."

Leaning in, Rita Paris poked the portly pilot, punctuating each word with a poke as she peered into her eyes.

"Galactic. Hero."

The Romulan's cheeks blushed green with embarrassment at the official, unofficial title. "Us. We all did that together. So, galactic heroes. Starfleet. This ship. This crew. I could do my part because you were all there. Literally in my head. That I won't forget the next time I'm feeling worthless, for sure. Best back up in the galaxy."

"Nope. No evasions, no diffusing," that finger of hers waved back and forth. "Yes, it was a crew effort, but you made choices. And that was all you. And those choices of yours just saved the galaxy. So own it, Miss Dox. There's quite a bit of pride in knowing you save a civilization, a planet, a village. But galaxy... you never forget that one. You deserve it, and I'd like to see you embrace it, Miss Dox." The mod minidress throwback stood and straightened her uniform, drawing herself up with military bearing.

Cheeks still green, Dox smiled feeling embarrassed, but nodded, not arguing but not quite ready to accept the praise as Rita continued.

"The captain relies upon me. I, in turn, have Thex to rely upon, but she's often in Engineering. You, however, are seemingly always in the thick of things. When there is trouble, we tend to be in proximity. You have no title for it, because unless I am mistaken you are 4th in line for command on the bridge, after Sonak. But you are an officer to whom I turn when I require assistance in my duties, as well as a friend I turn to when I need help."

Stepping back, Paris gathered up a stack of PaDDs on her desk, and organized them into a stable stack before clutching them to her bosom. "I value your presence there on the bridge, and elsewhere. I'm trying to train you, to prepare you for someday when it'll be your bridge you're standing on, commanding a crew and exploring the universe. It's always been an enterprise of discovery today to build a better future for the next generation of deep space voyagers."

"You are that next generation, and I want you to know how proud of you I am. You've come so far, and you're doing mighty things. So" At that, Paris wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. "What do you say we go do the impossible and imperil galactic peace?"

Standing up, Dox pulled down on her uniform top and adjusted herself as she looked up at her friend and executive officer with a hint of a smile. "Aye, Commander."

"Then let's go see if today you'll need to plot a course to enable us to fire four Genesis torpedoes at an eater of suns, shall we?"

Following behind, Dox found a familiar phrase come to her lips. One Rita Paris was fond of saying herself, but it seemed apropos in the moment as the portly pilot parroted her XO's words. "Another glorious day in Starfleet, Commander..."

Stepping out of the turbolift onto the bridge of the USS Hera was Commander Rita Paris, in all of her out-of-date glory, with Lieutenant Dox in stride beside her. The redheaded Romulan headed for the helm to relieve the current shift, even as Paris approached the Captain's ready room.

Ominously, the door opened as she approached, letting her walk in as if she owned the place. Enalia was sitting behind her desk, her head held in her hands and her elbows on the arms of her chair, slumped. She had obviously been up most of the night from the number of coffee cups on her desk. It was also obvious that her wife was the one that put dishes back in the replicator for her - a habit that she picked up growing up and easily slipped back into in married life.

As the buxom Commander entered, the curvaceous captain looked up from her brooding. "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?"

“Bad news. Always the bad news first, Cap’n.” It was evident from the dark circles under her eyes that clearly the fulsome first officer had slept poorly if at all, but her usual indefatigable good cheer was evident, which was a good sign. “We’re about to do something that violates all sorts of legal and moral standards, so it’s bound not to be pretty. What sort of court martial should I be preparing, ma’am?”

As she spoke, Paris had begun reflexively clearing the Captain's desk of leftover clutter, carrying the first load to the replicator to be recycled. It was, after all, second nature to her as a product of her time.

The spotted woman rubbed at her temples, oblivious to the cleanup her first officer was doing. "Apparently none. The bad news is that the Commodore has authorized whatever it takes and will take the fall for whatever happens. The good news is that we're in the clear to use those Genesis torpedoes in any manner we like for this mission because of that. On top of that, the singularity that Gaia opened collapsed a few minutes after we reported in."

“Both bits of good news, then! Sonak has been working the calculations, but given the size of the Titan involved and the sheer mass, we may need all 4 torpedoes. Plus it would put us free and clear of being an ongoing hotspot for the future if it is clear there are no more such torpedoes in inventory. Thoughts?” Paris made a second trip, balancing the plates and cups with the aplomb of a waitress as she moved.

"Of that we agree. The only reason we had them is because there was literally nowhere else better to store them than in our pod. If we can both dispose of them and make use of them..." Enalia leaned back in her chair and gawked at the balancing act Rita was doing as she fed the coffee cups into the replicator.

“Also, I don’t know if you have had a chance to read the report, but we saved Yeoman Dedjoy. Mostly,” the fulsome first officer offered. “Her physical form was a bit too ravaged to be salvageable, but she’s inhabiting a partially constructed android chassis that might or might not be incorporating elements of a certain time-traveling granddaughter of yours who happened to leave some detailed schematics lying about, as if she knew we’d be needing them soon enough. So that is not the best of news, but it’s good news. She said to tell you hello, and that she’s fine.”

Enalia let out a sigh she didn't know she had been holding in. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. She's been like family to me since she came aboard and I have no idea what I'd do without her. Seriously, I have no idea where any of my paperwork is or where any of these coffee cups came from."

“They came from you overworking and never bringing a cup back to the recycler,” Rita admonished playfully in a tone that sounded somewhat parental in nature. “I understand, though. I owe Dedjoy- she put me together when you found me here, and she worked out how to send my communicator back. She saved my life twice and… even just partially getting her back, I’ll settle for, because I owe that scared kid too much to let her down when she needs me.” There was considerable emotion the first officer was choking back, but it was abundantly clear that she too was greatly relieved to have rescued the danger-prone Ilarian.

“She will be out of commission for a bit, but it would probably mean the world to her if you would go up to the pod and have a few words with her, Captain.” The mess cleared to her satisfaction, Rita Paris lowered herself into the chair opposite the captain’s desk with a bit more weariness than usual. It was clear now that she’d been up all night helping rescue Dedjoy, and she was powering through the day because she was needed and sleep could wait til she was dead. “She’s been through it and this isn’t an ideal situation, and she is going to need a lot of support and compassion over the course of the next few weeks, so we need to be there for her.”

"Once we're done with Primordius I'll head up there and see her and make sure she has access to her music collection." Enalia finally smiled a bit as the thought of the Illaran's favored 'musical' instrument came to mind. It reminded her that in all the galaxy, there had to be a few races that had to have music so dreadful that most other races considered it a form of torture. It was rumored that even grass died when Illarans played full orchestrations of their Mortepus.

“We’ll need to get her some hands. But that’s all being worked on as we speak,” Paris got back up, fetched two cups of coffee from the replicator- one for the Captain and one for herself. Delivering them, she sat back down, picking up where she left off. “I think we might want to assign Doc for some counseling… while this was a choice on her part and it didn’t jump her on a mission, Dedjoy’s always been a bit delicate. Losing her corporeal form may mess with her head quite a bit, and I’m determined that we not fall down on it. She single-handedly saved the entire ship- which, medals for her and Dox, by the way, assuming you are ahead of me on this one- but death has always been a terror for her, and coming back in this second life… not every Starfleet hero shrugs it off and moves on, Captain. So we need to watch her and be there for her, aye?”

"Especially since her people barely got past agrarian pre-industrial economics before the Ferengi introduced them to the rest of the galaxy." Enalia waved one hand in the air, obviously not a fan of the Ferengi. "As for awards, I had planned on promoting her two grades and giving her something like the bronze star. Your thoughts?"

“Promote one grade at a time or it cheapens rank in peacetime is the rule I was taught. I was thinking Medal of Honor, myself- she sacrificed herself to save the entire ship, and paid a hell of a price for it. Purple heart too, of course, although it seems inadequate for loss of her biological form.” Paris paused to rub the sleep out of her eyes and drink a few sips of coffee. “It’s been a real ordeal for the crew, ma’am. Not sure if we should keep going at it hard and fast or take some time to slow down and let them breathe before we charge back into the fray again, whatever it may be this time. Hopefully if we can stop Primordious and survive, that should end the threat of the Clash of the Titans.”.

“Provided we survive the next twenty four hours..." Enalia made a few notes on a PaDD as she spoke. "One rank... And a purple heart. Now... How are we going to ensure that our genesis warheads are going to do the trick? Wasn't there something about a theory about mental energy guiding the path of these things?"

“And a Medal of Honor. Dedjoy seems to feel that she may have some influence there, as she had time and motivation, and she was aware of what we’ve been up to, even if she couldn’t participate. Her exact words were, ‘Tell Enalia I’ve got it covered’ and to trust her, so… I’m gonna take this one on faith.” Paris shrugged broadly. “Worst case scenario they are all asshole planets like Gaia made. Well, worst case we all die, but worst case for planetary formation is they are all planets of the destructor and they are all hostile to humanoid life. Which means they might become hunting resorts for Klingons or something, who knows.”

"Then let's program them for maximum yield and leave the rest to her," replied Enalia, adding a few more notes to the PaDD. "Is there anything else we need to plan for?"

“Very little we can plan for to my mind, ma’am. Just time to charge one more unto the breach,” Paris admitted. “I’d like to address the bridge crew to give them a chance to lodge a protest of they like, but I think better to do what we’re going to do and anyone who wants to lodge an objection can do so after the fact. So, unless you have anything else you’d like to cover… we’re ready for you on the bridge, Captain.”

“We should at least forewarn them and let them know that everything is under orders and anyone objecting should step aside. Also, everyone should know what's at stake." The spotted and curvaceous Captain sighed heavily. "You're better at this kind of speech, but it would definitely be better coming from me. Wish me luck?"

“Mention duty and honor and the sacrifice made by those who came before, and maybe point out that he’s going to eat Romulus, Andoria Vulcan and Earth and that might lend your speech a bit of impact,” Paris joked darkly. “I’ve got your back, Captain Telvan, and we have the best crew in the fleet. Luck, like the man says, is merely the rational mind attempting to grasp concepts larger than oneself.”

"Good advice, thank you," Enalia replied with a smile, Standing and tugging down on her uniform top. "Well, no time like the present."

Leaving her office, the Captain led the way out onto the bridge with her First Officer in tow behind her, to take up a position in front of her chair. "First things first, have there been any replies to any of our communications attempts in any way?"

The operations Ensign shook her head. "No, Ma'am. Unless you count eating a dwarf planet as an attempt at communication."

"I do not..." Enalia muttered, looking back from the Ops station around at the rest of the bridge. She then pressed the ship wide comms so she could address the entire crew. As she did so, a whistle sounded, announcing her.

"Gentlebeings of the USS Hera, we are faced with a difficult issue. This being Primordius threatens the very core existence of the Romulan Empire and Federation. Projections estimate that unless it is stopped here and now, it will grow more powerful and consume every star in its path, which includes Romulus, Earth, Vulcan, Tellar, Trill, Andor, and thousands of other systems."

"We have a plan to use a power that is the counter and theoretical opposite of Primordius's. We've been carrying around four Genesis warheads and they're close enough to Gaia's energies that we can shut him down for good if we use all four."

"Yes, Genesis and proto-matter technology is banned by just about every alliance and treaty we have. If you're not comfortable with this mission, please feel free to step aside now. However, these actions have already been approved and the orders are already signed. No one here will have to face any repercussions for taking part in this operation."

“That being said, we have an honor bound duty to ourselves and the people of the rest of the galaxy to do everything in our power to make sure that life continues on all those worlds. We have the best crew in the fleet... In the galaxy... And I have faith in every single one of you."

Pressing the comms button again, she ended her ship wide broadcast and sat down in her command chair. "Red alert. Arm and load all four Genesis warheads. Authorization Telvan delta sierra foxtrot yamka niner niner."

The computer processed the order as the bridge lighting turned red and the red alert klaxon went off. "Captain approval confirmed. Awaiting First Officer approval for removal of safety interlocks."

“Authorization Paris, R, LTCDR, 867-5309,” the faithful first officer replied from her station, where her firing resolutions for the four torpedoes and her proposed flight plan came up on the main viewer.

From the helm, Lieutenant Dox quickly entered Commander Paris' flight plan into the controls and brought up the manual interface. As she did, she turned back over the shoulder and nodded to the Captain and First Officer, "Course laid in, Captain."

"Sick bay, Standing by," Doctor Dael reported in.

Standing at her station with the launch sequences targeted and primed, her finger hovering over the onscreen button, Commander Paris turned to Captain Telvan.

"On your command, Captain. All hands standing by... is the order given?"

"Almost... Wait for it..." Enalia leaned forward in her chair, waiting for the right moment as Primordius lined up with the system's sun and began slowly streaming it into its giant maw. The Hera was lined up not to be in the way of the stream but had a clear shot into that same maw that was now opening up wide. "Now the order is given. Fire at will, Commander."

In a career that had spanned decades, firing genesis torpedoes at a sun-eating Doomsday machine that was actually a primordial titan, which was likely going to start a galactic incident was still a first. With the weight of the responsibility on her shoulders, Commander Rita Paris did not debate nor hesitate. The needs of the many in this case included Romulus and most of the core worlds of the Alpha Quadrant, including her own home planet, Earth.

The few, as represented by the crew of the Hera, were willing to make the sacrifice for the one, in this case represented by the titan whose sole purpose was destruction of entire solar systems by eating any planets in it’s path, carving them up with an anti-proton beam, then swallowing their suns.

In the end, there was no choice at all.

“Torpedo one away. Miss Dox, if you please?” Paris ordered from her station, waiting for the ace pilot of the USS Hera to move them into position for the next shot, putting them on a trajectory to launch the remaining three torpedoes.

Following Paris' flight path exactly, Dox brought the mighty Starship quickly into position for thd next volley. "Aye, Commander. In position, zero point three two sevvvvveennn... MARK!

While they lined up for the second torpedo, the first one hit and the change inside Primordius was immediate. A green glow erupted inside the giant maw and a shockwave spread out from it slowly. It barely slowed the beast's hunger, though - the stream of matter from the sun continued unabated from the sun into the deadly ice cream cone of doom.

In her VIP quarters on Deck 8 of the starship that bore her name, the goddess Hera looked up, realizing what was happening as a smile crossed her face. "Oh, you clever, clever women..."

Next door, Death herself looked up, shrugged, then went back to what she was doing. Life overwriting life meant little to her, as it was merely transformation, not the cycle in which she served an integral and generally inescapable role.

The second torpedo launched, the bright red twinkle in the black of space lost in the chaos of a star-consuming titan’s hunger. The Hera did not dally, however, as she moved into position for the third torpedo launch, then the fourth.

“All right Miss Dox, get us out to a safe range to watch the fireworks, if you please,” Paris ordered as the last torpedo was away. “Let’s see if crazy ideas from back in my day still work on monstrosities from before time, shall we?”

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied as she quickly pulled the Hera around, zipping the Starship to a safe distance.

As the torpedoes hit, the green glow intensified and the pulses expanding from the impacts radiated outward faster. The fourth one flashed blue and the light within Primordius flared out. Outcroppings of growth crept out across the neutronium body of the great Titan behemoth as it gave one last twitch of death, rolling into what could possibly be a semi-stable orbit around the star. The genesis waves themselves flared outward, searching for more planets in the system and finding each one, spawning more life in the ideal nature guided by the ghostly hand of one Ila Dedjoy.

Soon, all of the inside and outside of the now motionless body of Primordius was now covered in lush greenery and blue waters - a veritable tropical paradise with an ideal atmosphere somehow supporting it even in the odd shape it was in.

"Can I cook or what," Paris muttered from the fire control panel, then she raised her voice back to bridge Command level. "Let's have some sensor readings, people. What's happening- is our sun-eater truly reformed? How are those Genesis waves doing on the sister planets, and tell me the Genesis wave is going to run its course? Cap'n needs answers, people."

The Ensigns at both Operations and Science both conferred between themselves for a moment before announcing their conclusions, Ensign Finneon at science going first. "We've determined that something that matches brainwave patterns of the late Yeoman Dedjoy's has overpowered that of the being before us and is guiding the progress of the Genesis wave."

Then the Ops Ensign Goldeen took a turn. "The initial warheads were programmed to simulate Gaia's energies in order to cancel out the primordial energies, but now they've taken on a more kind and peaceful tone to them and that pattern is the only viable explanation we can find."

Then back to Ensin Finneon. "Projections show that all seven solid worlds in this system will harbor at least some semblance of symbiotic life forms, the planet in the sweet spot becoming a sort of paradise. As for Primordius himself, we're detecting zero life from the actual being and instead, an outpouring of life from inside where the warheads hit, covering approximately seventy percent of the outer surface."

Then back to the Ops Ensign, Goldeen. "We're detecting massive levels of growth in both flora and fauna. It's as if the whole interior and exterior was terraformed into a perfectly balanced ecosystem with an atmosphere and all in the span of... Just over six minutes. It's now resting and settling right before our eyes."

"I hereby declare this to be known as 'the Dedjoy System' in honor of the brave young woman who laid down her life for this to be possible, and whose hand guided the creation of these worlds. Individual planet names to be determined, mark it in the log, Ensign Goldeen," Commander Paris declared as she approached the main viewer, captivated by the sight of the rapidly terraforming system. "That's... that is just one of the most breathtaking sights I've ever seen. Kinda makes you feel young again, eh Captain?"

"That it does..." Enalia also stood and took a couple steps towards the viewscreen. "I wonder if this is what Kirk felt when he laid eyes upon the Genesis planet all those years ago. If this isn't the definition of new life... The very thing that Starfleet is dedicated to seeking... Then I don't know what is. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if this system spawns a race that leads to a civilization similar to that of the Illarans eventually."

"Congratulations, everyone. We've once again turned certain death and destruction into a fighting chance for life." Grinning like a leopard that ate her Miradonian helm officer, she turned to her voluptuous first officer. "Now how about we launch some long term probes and a subspace relay so we can monitor this from back home?"

"Aye Captain," Paris put in the orders to program the probes. While she didn't personally know the protocols for modern systemic monitoring probes- hell, she didn't even know what model probes were available anymore... class 10 maybe. What she did know how to do was delegate to people smarter than her whose jobs it was to know all of that, set expectations and mission parameters and wait for them to report back that it was ready. Then she just needed to order the launches, and away they'd go... which she could do all from a PaDD, as being stuck to a station tended to irk her if she didn't need the seatbelt.

"We may have started an intergalactic incident which could have far-reaching consequences," Paris said as she sidled up beside and behind the captain, just off her right elbow. "But it sure looks like we did the right thing to me. Heck, maybe we even restored balance to the universe in doing so. Gaia's worlds will be filled with dangerous, hostile lifeforms to humanoids. Whereas the Dedjoy system will be a paradise... or, at least as much as our Miss Dedjoy feels is a such, given her hand in it. As she's a geologist, these worlds should be... interesting."

"If I may say, well done, Captain. Well done to us all. People might not see it that way, but I think we may just have saved the known universe."

That's when Ensign Finneon piped up from the science station. "Captain I'm getting some odd readings from all genesis bodies. It's like our sensor readings are being reflected around before bounced back at us. Calibrating... That's not working... Ah, The special sensor package can detect what's going on. Captain, if these sensors are right, the more dense materials are slowly forming black crystal formations. This is growing into the second known deposit in the galaxy."

Enalia's eyebrows shot up and she moved over to look at the science console readouts. "Yeah, I recognize those readings. As soon as you find a stable deposit, beam aboard a sample. Let's see if it's as pure as the other one."

"I think we have conclusive proof of more than one theory today and I think I have someone to pay a visit to." Enalia was grinning ear to ear as she knew this would bring a certain level of peace and comfort to the android bound Ila Dedjoy. "I'll have to let the Commodore know first, but right after that, I'm off to the pod. And let's come up with some good names for these planets, too. The original survey mission named them NGDF4156456 A through H and H got eaten."

"Black crystals... her signature discovery. We might just have changed the face of the galaxy a bit more," Paris mused. "I believe I have excellent names in mind, ma'am. Leave it to me. Please give Ms' Dedjoy my compliments, as well as the Commodore. I have the conn, Captain, by your leave."

"Let's see now..." the curvaceous commander eyed the developing worlds with a hint of mischief in her eye. Name some planets, eh? That desert world closest to the sun, we'll name that one Sonak... then Dael and Dox for those two sibling planets... that water planet, we'll name Clemens... that jungle planet we'll name Paris, then the giant planet with all the moons we'll name Telvan, then the coldest planet furthest from the sun, that's sh'Zoarhi."

Looking around the bridge, Paris shrugged broadly. "Sherman discovered Sherman's Planet. If the universe is going to be mad at us, we may as well make a mark on history while we're at it. I mean, technically speaking, we did just discover the Dedjoy system..."

"We'll consider it part of the mission log then," Enalia commented as she vanished into her ready room with a wink.

What in the universe was she even doing here? One day she was fighting for the lives and freedom of her and her fellow non-humans from the Terran Empire and now she's on some starship of the future in some other universe, the only survivor of her own universe, living it up in a veritable pleasure palace of a sickbay being waited on hand and foot and soon she would be escorted to her own private quarters where she could do literally anything she wanted to in them. How did she deserve this when the rest of the people in her universe did not? Why was she chosen out of the trillions upon trillions of other life forms?

Her meditations on this were constantly taking her in circles and leading her nowhere. There was no logical answer to it and there likely never would be. She was just here now and she would just have to learn to adapt somehow.

The sounds of activity outside of Az'Prel's medical suite alerted her to the possible intrusion of more medical personnel and rather than revealing that she was having a mental breakdown, she quickly composed herself and picked up the PaDD that was on her lap and turned it on to where she left off... The complete works of Surak of this universe.

The alarm sounding on Asa's desk indicated Az'Prel's blood pressure was up, and the increase in respiration combined to paint a story of someone having a good old fashioned freak out. Knowing this would likely embaress her, Asa decided it was time to give the newest shipmate some privacy in their own quarters.

The second surgery had gone well the day before, Az'Prel's bones and tissues now set in the proper positions, and all organ tissues properly regenerated. Her skin was healed and immune system recovered as well. There was no reason for Az'Prel to continue to reside in sickbay beyond maintaining consistancy to her still healing psyche.

After checking with Ensign Vimes to ensure Az'Prel's quarters had been prepared, Asa set off to comfort their patient. After a quick knock on the door, Asa called cheerfully, "Yoohoo! May I come in?"

"Yes, Doctor. I welcome the distraction." The displaced Vulcan looked up from the page on the PaDD she had read at least fifty times now to address her attending physician. She then tried to remember the appropriate thing to say in these circumstances. She felt she was learning, but still she felt out of place. "How may I... Help you?"

“Well, I was hoping you would accompany me to your new quarters. You are under no obligation to stay in them if you aren’t ready of course, just wanted to show you what we have put together. Your skin is healed, and you are doing excellent after your last procedure, so I thought you might like to stretch your legs and walk around a bit too. How about it? Wanna get out of here for a bit?” Asa said brightly.

Az'Prel nodded and slipped off of the biobed, for the first time in memory standing without discomfort or pain or issue of any sort. Once on her feet, she checked herself over, still in a medical gown, and nodded in readiness, the PaDD still in hand. "I believe I am ready, Doctor."

"That sounds like my cue," Commander Paris stepped in through the doorway, bearing a a smile and stack of neatly folded freshly replicated clothing. "I heard the discharge orders are today, so Sonak suggested that you might be comfortable in traditional Vulcan clothing, and I wanted to see what sort of quarters assignment the medical staff plans to offer."

Setting the clothing on the bed, Paris stepped back outside. "I'll give you your privacy, Az'Prel."

"Thank you, Commander," the displaced Vulcan added as she looked over the clothing. It was easy enough to figure out as it was similar enough to clothing from her own universe, but it covered her arms and belly, like armor. It would take some getting used to.

Once Az’Prel had dressed, Asa directed the trio towards the nearest turbolift. Once they had disembarked on Deck 8, the good doctor pointed towards a door seven down the corridor.

“Well, this is it, I hope you find peace in this environment, but of course if there is anything you would like changed, we are happy to help you do so. This is just what I could come up with after our last discussion,” the doctor said, nervous energy thrumming through them.

The door whooshed open softly to reveal an open-floorplan layout with a bed in one corner. The bed was draped in a warm, heavy looking blanket in a soft earthy brown with sky blue piping along the edges. There were four pillows in matching blue along the headboard, and a heavy wooden nightstand on one side. The floor was covered in a rug blending greens, blues, and browns into a gradual ombre-like pattern. Directly next to the door was a large, heavy wooden desk and chair. A small oil-rubbed bronze brazier set on the desk, ready to be used in contemplative practice. The closet was ajar showing a few uniforms in Az’Prel’s size sans rank designation. The wall across from the bed showed a holo-projected rendering of Mount Seleya with a few plants blowing slightly in the programmed breeze.

The temperature was set to be Vulcan standard- so warm to Asa and Rita, but the controls were on a PaDD also sitting on the nearby desk. The door to the shower area revealed soft, plush towels, a robe, and slippers were waiting, all in soft browns with blue and green accents. The standard silver fixtures had been removed and Asa replaced them with oil-rubbed bronze. In fact, nothing in the room appeared metallic at all. There was not a hint of red or metallic materials anywhere in the room, and the table, chairs, desk, and nightstand were all of a similar rich mahogany.

Sitting on the table was a wicker basket filled with soaps, snacks, books, old fashioned pens, and an assortment of hodge podge items with a banner pinned to the side saying “Welcome Home Az’Prel!”. There was a card signed by each person in Sickbay who had helped treat Az’Prel, and some that only met her in passing.

Looking a bit embarrassed, Asa said, “I hope you like it. Everyone wanted to give you something, so I told them to put in what would make them feel welcome in a new place. So, well, it’s a bit of a….diverse….housewarming gift, but there’s a lot of affection in there too.”

Az'Prel wandered the room like a lost lamb, running her fingers over furniture as she did so, studying every last inch of the quarters. She wasn't sure if she was looking for traps or waiting for the other boot to drop, but this all seemed too much. Did they really expect her to believe that these massive quarters were all hers? She was used to living in a space the size of the refresher.

Turning to the pair, her pointed brow was furrowed. "I am grateful, but I am having trouble believing the size of these quarters. What is the price?"

"I know," Paris replied, arms sweeping expansively across the vast chamber. "We bring you to a room bigger than a barracks and tell you that this is your quarters, just you, all alone, and you are wondering how they can have that much space, how they can afford to be so wasteful, wondering what you are going to do with all of this space, expecting a few families to move into it with you. I get it, I honestly do."

"But this is the future. Within the Federation, there is no cost. It's all just matter, and the replicators can provide nearly anything, which really paved the way for our moneyless society, which kind of eliminated a lot of the negative aspects of humanity." This at least was something Rita understood from her own time to the modern, and she recalled the Terrans were still quite motivated by greed and used currency exchange. "Outside the Federation, there's an exchange rate of some sort. I'll be honest, I don't really understand it all that well either. But yes, this is all for you. Unless you would be cozier in something smaller, or you would prefer a roommate."

Az'Prel picked up one of the miscellaneous items in the gift basket and looked it over. Never before had she known such kindness and she felt as if she was undeserving of it. To top it all of, there was so much plenty in this universe, everything was free, which only compounded her feelings of guilt and remorse that she was trying to bury. Setting the item back in the basket, she turned to the pair, bowing slightly. "I will accept this with great humility. If you should have need of my fighting ability or tactical skills as a guerilla fighter, please do not hesitate to call upon me. I am here to serve."

"Everyone contributes as much or as little as they wish in this society. And I understand that life without purpose, after a lifetime of struggle, is its own trap. Have no fear, Ms. Az'Prel. When we have need of your skills, we will ask for your help. For now, just getting you healthy was job one. Good work on that front, Doctor- I've read the reports," Paris paused to pat the frail physician on the shoulder fondly.

"Now we need to acclimate you to the world in which you find yourself, and help you find your place. We're glad that you are here, and I know that trust doesn't come easily. I had an awful hard time believing there wasn't a catch or some sinister motivation myself- that's why I'm here with you today. Where you are, I too have been. Because I remember what it felt like, I'm here to tell you that you matter. You can contribute. You are welcome. And we wish for you to find harmony between yourself and the universe in which you now reside." It might be easier to disbelieve the woman, save that she was earnest and forthright, as she seemed to always be when speaking. A human she was, but no Terran could maintain a deception for this long this convincingly.

"Your words ring of truth." Az'Prel thought on Rita's words for a moment, her fingers steepling in front of her. "Perhaps a return to my old training routine would help then. Modified to prevent any undue stresses and harm, of course. I doubt you would allow me to train with wild animals in dangerous terrain to hunt Terrans as I did in my old life. Until I was captured and enslaved, of course..."

“That’s a different conversation. Let’s tackle that one after the quarters… but yes. Oddly enough, we can accommodate that as well. The wonders of the future,” Paris chuckled, shaking her head. Just as the newcomer marveled at what the future held, so too did the traveler who had preceded her still feel that marvel and amazement for the universe in which they both found themselves, even as she worried over the past which included the words 'captured and enslaved'.


“I’ll set up a recommended exercise regimen for you, Az’Prel. One that will help you slowly ramp up your activity level back to what you are comfortable with. You’ve been through a heck of an ordeal, and there is no rush to be back in peak physical condition, so my professional recommendation is slow and steady improvement. We can look at some holodeck- projected environments which you can interact with that is- programs to simulate a variety of environments. Perhaps let’s start with some walking and running on Vulcan? I would be happy to join, if you like,” Asa said, beaming with pride at Az’Prel’s recovery, and with hope for seeing their patient embrace a full life.

"I would find that agreeable. Thank you both." The displaced Vulcan resumed looking around her new vast quarters, inspecting every inch and familiarizing herself with them. She was trying to tell herself she wasn't looking for spy equipment or hidden torture implements, but it came as second nature to her.

When she came upon her old armor hanging upon an armor rack, she lightly ran her fingertips across the chest plate and shoulder pads in memory of her one worldly possession remaining from her old universe. The wormhole aliens had stripped her of the remains of her small shuttle and her weapons so this was all she had left and it was in tatters from years of combat and held together with rivets and wrappings in some places.

Then she realized she was hungry and turned back to her pair of angels. "Where may I procure sustenance?"

“Right this way, please,” Asa said, walking towards the replicator.

“This is a replicator. It can give you food, drink, daily use items, really almost anything you might need save advanced powered weaponry. You can use it by either hailing the computer by saying “Computer” or press the button right….here,” Asa said, pressing said button and then continuing, “Three hot chocolates with marshmallows please.”

The shimmering lights in the replicator coalesced into three steaming mugs, and Asa handed one to Az’Prel and one to Rita before taking a sip and continuing, “Some people program recipes and preferences into their replicator. The instructions for that are on the PaDD on your desk, along with the environmental controls for the room. Personally, I tend to just ask for what I want and go with the programmed recipe. I’ve tried cooking and been….well, wildly unsuccessful is a nice way of saying almost burned my own hair off. Wanna give it a go?”

Stepping up to the replicator, Az'Prel pressed the button and spoke to the replicator. "Lightly honey glazed saffir." As the requested grain based Vulcan desert materialized, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise. She had not expected the sweet to have been such a close visual and olfactory match to what she remembered as a child.

Taking the plate with the round cake and fork, she retreated to the dining table, motioning for the others to join her. "Please, join me. It is... Comforting... To not eat alone."

“I understand, and we’d be happy to,” Rita replied as she placed the hot chocolate back into the replicator, sending it back to matter reclamation, then requested “Computer, one sliced honeycrisp apple and a bowl of corn flakes in milk, please.” As the requested items hummed into being, the full-figured first officer took them from the replicator and moved to take a seat at the table. “Nothing personal, I’m just not that big on sweets most of the time. This figure doesn’t maintain itself, you know…”

With a laugh, Asa took a deep drink of their cocoa, "I'm always up for something sweet! Young El-Aurians have the metabolism of a hummingbird anyway, so might as well enjoy it while I have it."

Walking to the replicator again, Asa secured a cinnamon roll covered in icing and took a huge bite with a corresponding huge grin.

Using the fork, Az'Prel took a bite of the Vulcan desert and the flavor of it almost overwhelmed her with the memories it elicited. She then took a sip of the strange drink she had been given. It was considerably sweeter, but still palatable. As she ate, a hint of a smile graced her lips.

“Not bad for reformatted matter, right?” Rita smiled genially as she took a spoonful of crunchy flakes. “So… about the holodeck. There are rooms within the ship that can create a virtual environment using replication, holograms and forcefields which are practically indistinguishable from reality. There are safety protocols, and we can discuss those at a later date. But you can virtually visit Vulcan, or Earth, or most of the worlds of the federation. In some cases you can even get a real-time representation of the place in question, if it is currently actively scanned. A few times a week I jog the nature trail at Starfleet Academy, in realtime, because it helps me to feel connected to my home when I am so far from it.”

“Ah,” snapping her fingers, the ancient astronaut realized another briefing element needed to be mentioned. “Earth is the seat of the United Federation of Planets. Over 1600 world which have joined together for mutual support and peaceful cultural exchange. I’m honestly not sure who the president of the Federation is these days, but they are most likely a race other than human. So, as the seat of the Federation, it is also home to Starfleet, and that is where Starfleet Academy is located. In the city of San Francisco, and that’s where I grew up I suspect earth was a collection of horrors where you came from, but here it is the starting point for all of Starfleet personnel to begin their careers exploring, seeking and boldly going.”

"It is as I surmised then. The humans of this universe and those of mine have a completely polarized outlook on life and death. The spread across the galaxy is the same, but while the Terran empire does it through fear and conquest, the Federation does it through compassion and diplomacy." Az'Prel made a figure eight motion with her fork as she spoke before resuming eating.

The face of the extradimensional explorer split in a smile as she realized that the shell-shocked veteran was getting it. "Yes, Miss Az'Prel. Starfleet of this universe genuinely is a benevolent organization, with compassion and diplomacy as our watchwords. We really do come in peace."

"I know, coming from where you do, it'll take you a long time to trust us or anyone, and that's reasonable. Trust is earned. We're willing to put in the time. You are welcome to catch us at our best and our worst, and we're willing to be judged by our choices and actions." The earth girl shoveled another spoonful of cornflakes in and ate her crunchy breakfast with gusto and a goofy milk smile.

"Your actions have spoken immeasurably about the entire crew, particularly at the recent wake. I have never witnessed anything similar." Az'Prel consumed a few more bites of her saffir thoughtfully. "Plus the conversation with Sonak gave me much to consider."

“He’s a wise man… a master of Gol, a Kolinahr, and an admirable man of principle.” As she spoke, there was a hint of pride in the feisty first officer’s tone. “Mind you, I may be a bit biased, I’ll admit, but he’s the quite possibly the best person I’ve ever met. In our universe Vulcan was also destroyed, and he was the last Kolinahr, as the only one who was not on Vulcan when it was destroyed. Here, he revisited and reconnected with his homeworld. When we get a chance and all of the current madness has passed, we’ll see if we can’t give you the opportunity to do the same.”

Taking another bite of her cereal, the anachronistic astronaut added, “I know what it’s like to want to see home again, we all do. And here, you can see what your culture became without the antagonism of the Terrans while embracing the logical teachings of Surak. If you would like a teacher to help guide you through those philosophies, Sonak never turns away anyone wishing to learn. So don’t hesitate to ask him- I suspect he would welcome the opportunity.”

Realizing she was going on a bit, Rita blushed slightly as her thumb absently rotated the duranium grey band on her third finger. “Sorry. I go on a bit about him, but… he’s quite the heroic figure.”

The displaced Vulcan woman nodded solemnly. "I have found heroism to be quite subjective, though I will not say that your opinion is unfounded. He is... Accomplished. I respect that he has achieved a great many things through logic."

Gently, Asa said, “I hope you find us a place where you can take pride in your own accomplishments. Shoot. Please, forgive me, I’m sorry, that was emotion based language. I hope we provide you an environment to thrive in. I truly do want to know if there is something you think would help with that, and I would be honored to learn martial arts from you, if you would like to teach? It would be good therapy for you in a few weeks to go through some forms, and I would very much like to be able to defend myself better. Would… that be agreeable? It’s perfectly okay to say no, of course.”

Of course what Asa had not said was that they were concerned Az’Prel would either push too hard to regain her health, or that exploring combat movement again might trigger a strong emotional response from her traumatic past. It was entirely true that Asa wanted to better be able to defend themself, but the larger drive was being able to watch over their patient for a bit longer.

Az'Prel bowed her head, her open hands spread wide in subservience. "I live to serve." The display of submission complete, she resumed eating, taking a drink of the super sweet drink before finishing off her Vulcan desert. "I am well versed in fourteen forms of martial arts, including the Klingon form of Mok'bara and Human art of Kama Sutra. There may also be differences in the forms from my time and universe and this one, which may lend to unpredictability that you and your security teams may find useful."

"Oh yes," Rita agreed around a mouthful of cornflakes. Swallowing, she pressed the point. "Once you are settled in, I plan to assign you as a civilian security trainer as a job position, so you can begin teaching our gals in gold the fine art of guerilla warfare and some exotic martial arts, if you feel that would be to your liking. It seems to take advantage of your skillset in a constructive manner, and enables you to share a lifetime of experience with those who are well-trained by inexperienced. Does that sound like something you would wish to entertain?"

"I would find that quite agreeable, yes." The displaced Vulcan woman nodded as she sipped at her chocolatey drink. "I can begin at your discretion."

"Tomorrow, 07:00, Deck 11, Gymnasium 1," the first officer replied promptly and decisively. "I'd like for you and Lieutenant Dox to square off. She's an expert in a Romulan martial art they call 'the laughing death'. As she's quite the combatant, I'd like for the two of you to spar, so we can gain some measure of your skill, then work up an education program from there. Nothing lethal, no weapons, just a skill demonstration is all I ask," she added, waving her hands palms up before her. "This isn't gladiatorial combat. Which seems excessive to say, but it can't hurt to make the point."

"I will be punctual," replied Az'Prel with a nod, taking note of the time and place. "Thank you."

"Um, I'll be there too, if you don't mind? Just to observe....and make sure everyone is ok...." the doctor said, a touch of caution in their voice. "I'm sure you will be of course, just, well, I guess I'm a bit over cautious."

"A training exercise is actually an excellent time for a safety inspection, Doctor. You're welcome to come and observe, and examine our safety protocols to see if we need shoring up anywhere. It would be most appreciated," Rita added with a smile, pleased to get the doctor involved sufficiently to ally their potential misgivings. While engaging the sole survivor of a lost universe best left forgotten with purpose and both a reason and an agency to engage with her shipmates. It would be important for Az'Prel to begin a new life here in the far-flung and friendly future which she could never have imagined in a thousand lifetimes.

"Great!" Asa enthused, "I can't wait to watch ya'll work. Cheering section, coming up!"

"As a guerrilla fighter, my best work is unseen so this will be an interesting change for me," Az'Prel replied. "After all, most of my operations involved hidden defense and infiltration over long periods of time."

“Oddly enough, we have a meeting scheduled with the Captain tomorrow afternoon in regard to that…” Paris explained. “I think we may just have a mission for you that plays to your strengths. But I’ll let her spell that out for you tomorrow. For today, we’ll get you settled in and acclimated, help you solve any immediate issues you encounter and get you ready to start a productive life in the closing days of the 24th century.”

“So….anything you would like added to your room here? Or anything that should go away?” Asa asked cautiously, not wanting to overwhelm Az’Prel at her new environs.

The displaced Vulcan woman glanced around and she realized what she missed most about her old life. "A sand box with meditation stones. One meter by half a meter and five centimeters deep. The frame made of Vulcan tique wood. My mentor kept one in the center of his living quarters when I was young."

"Computer," Asa said, "Can you please provide us with a holo-rendering of a Vulcan tique wood box, one meter by half a meter, five centimeters deep, filled with sand and meditation stones?"

With a soft whoosh sound, the box was projected into the center of the room. Looking to Az'Prel, Asa asked, "Is this to your liking? If not, simply say 'Computer' and let it know of any changes you would like."

"Computer, please add a seven centimeter wide sand brush." As the computer complied, Az'Prel moved from her place at the table to kneel before the sandbox to look it over. "This... Is perfect."

“You’ve a considerable matter allowance, so feel free to redecorate as you wish, to make this space your own,” Paris indicated, observing the serenity just seeing the box seemed to bring the refugee of a bygone reality. “Or if you would prefer not to live alone, we can certainly find you a roommate if you like. Your well-being is important to us, and we want you to feel secure and comfortable.”

"Thank you, Commander. I will consider it," Az'Prel replied in a zen-like state as she picked up one of the stones and moved it to another part of the box. It was obvious that she was no longer completely there.

Silently, Paris motioned to the doctor that they should depart, a finger to her lips as she recognized that the Vulcan was entering a mediatory trance. While she would be aware, the voices and conversation would become distant to her, and it was as good a cue as any for the first officer and chief medical officer to depart.

Following the first officer into the hallway, Asa said once the door had closed, “I think she’s ready.”

"I think you're right. You've worked wonder for her body, Doc. All we can do is provide some peace... it's up to her to heal her soul." Rita shook her head and smiled winsomely. "I guess that's why the Prophets sent her to us. As godlike non-linear cosmic entities beyond our comprehension go, they're pretty swell in my book."

With a snort of agreement, Asa replied, “If she decides she wants to, I think she will find a great place here. So, how do we go about having her join the crew officially, if that is the decision? This is my first inter-dimensional orientation, so I confess, I don’t know all the ins and outs. From a medical standpoint though, she is healthy enough to serve- provided she continues counseling.”

“Well, mine too, truthfully. I'm just doing what i wish had been done for me, and following my instincts on this one. To answer your question, to serve in the Fleet she would need to attend the Academy. I got grandfathered, although in truth I could probably use a refresher course myself, being so behind the times on, well, everything,” Rita admitted, spreading her hands palms up. “But in her case she will be a civilian attache. I can find work for her, and her status of not being a Starfleet officer will actually work in her favor, as there are some missions that need to stay off the books, like helping the captain with her family ties. I’ll set her to work with my security force and see how she does, and we’ll see where her interests lie. Ours is a society built on labor for those who wish to do so, leisure for those who choose. I’d like for her to be able to see and do with us so that she can decide what she would like to do, where she would like to go, and how she would like to spend her life now that she has the freedom to choose.”

Nodding, Asa said, “Agreed, Commander. Truthfully, I’m glad she will be staying with us. We both put a lot of heart into her case, and I know you are as anxious as I am to watch her prosper. I know her body is healed, but her mind, well, that’s going to take a while, and I’m glad she will be surrounded by the people here while she acclimates. I can’t think of a better crew to show patience and understanding to someone new to the universe.”

I suspect her mind will be easy enough- an actual master of logic at hand should easily deal with her questions. It’s her soul that concerns me… she was born into a world of horrors and endured things I’d rather not consider. To my mind, her soul is what needs healing, Doctor. And in that, I must agree.” Draping an arm about the slender shoulders of the ship’s surgeon, the fulsome first officer rattled the doctor a bit.

”Miss Az’Prel could not possibly be in better hands to heal, and find her place in this universe,” the extradimensional explorer grinned down at the young immortal. “After all, we’ve been there, eh?”

“Aye, we have indeed,” Asa said, returning the smile and leaning into the embrace. “But we need not suffer alone, nor standby while others do, and that is what matters.”

Striding into the Holodeck, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox wore a a simple black sweatsuit. As always, she had a PaDD in hand and was reviewing a data file as she walked into the empty, yellow gridded black room. On the PaDD was the technical specifications of the cyborg enhancements performed on the Hera's Chief Intelligence Officer, Lieutenant Samuel Clemens XV.

As she walked in, without looking up from her PaDD, Dox called out to the computer. "Computer, please initiate sparring room program 7-b. Maximum safety protocols. Thank you."

With a chirp, the computer replied in the somewhat unusual way it tended to. =^=You're welcome, Lieutenant Dox.=^=

As it spoke, the Holodeck shimmered to life, creating a room, padded thickly from floor to ceiling with a dark teal material. Against the wall was a refreshment station and two chairs. On a table, a water cooler with cups and a few folded towels that we're replicated into existence. As Dox continued to read, she began taking off her sweat suit. Beneath the sweats was the shiney black bodysuit that was the undersuit for her EVA armor.

Considering that according to the report, Lieutenant Clemens was now approximately ten times stronger then she was, she could use all the help she could get. The EVA armor increased one's strength by a factor of four and offered considerable protection, which would at least keep her from getting too badly tossed around, she hoped.

It was just after Lieutenant Commander Thex's bonding ceremony, during the reception that the tall, thickly built ginger with the large mustache approached her. Clemens had been severely injured during the mission to the worldship and had been in recovery for weeks. Asa had told her some of the details that included the report in her hands and that Clemens had met Death as a result of how bad his recovery almost went. But he was back on duty and trying to get caught up on what was happening on the Hera.

Socially, the two had never spoken, only sharing Bridge duty a sparse few times since Dox joined the Hera. But he had apparently read up on Dox's time training the new security crew in the Rihannsu martial art of Llaekh-ae'rl, in which she was highly adept. So it was at the party that he asked her if she would be willing to set aside some time for lessons.

He asked in the thick accent of his that Dox didn't recognize and could barely make out. She was a little embarrassed that she could speak four languages and was having trouble getting through a simple human accent, and her knee jerk tendency towards being anti-social had her putting it off for a couple of weeks.

Then came the mission to communicate with the Titan Gaia, using Dox's mind as a conduit where, out of nowhere, Clemens voulenteered his mind to assist in strengthening Dox's. Suddenly, the idea of getting together to spar seemed much simplier. After all, the two had been in each other's minds for a time and it was something that had built up enough trust to push through Dox's anxious defenses. As she read, the door behind her wooshed open as Lieutenant Clemens entered the Holodeck.

The ship's solitary spook came in, wearing a tactical night-ops get-up, form-fitting and jet-black, but with little pockets seemingly-everywhere, a white towel over his shoulder, a duffel slung over his other shoulder.

"Howdy!" he said brightly, as he set the duffel down, smiling that brilliant smile of his, a stark contrast to the night-stalking clothing he was wearing.

Turning to greet him, Dox looked up as he was easily 8 inches or so taller then she was. "Hello Lieutenant Clemens. I hope all is well with you." She stood not quite at attention, but alertly with her arms crossed behind her back still holding her PaDD.

"Ah'm glad yuh takin' th'time tuh help me out with this, Miss Dawks," the accent was a bit more muted, but still unmistakably-provincial Earth. "Realleh lookin' foahwhud t'larnin' from yuh."

He looked up, and called out to the air, "Miss Computuh, ah sure do 'preciate yoah fine workmanship on this heah sparrin' room. Thank yuh."

=^=You're welcome, Lieutenant Clemens.=^= The computer replied. It was an affectation that Dox had never seen before in her time with Starfleet, but the computer responding to pleasantries was something she was becoming accustomed to as she smiled. She had a habit of anthropomorphizing ships, and this just made her love her home that much more.

Turning her attention back to Clemens, Dox put her PaDD on the table and began stretching. "She does excellent work. And I'm glad to be of any assistance I can be, Lieutenant. Although after reviewing your technical specs, I don't know much what you can really learn from me. I'm, at best, proficient in Llaekh-ae'rl and only showed the security team a few moves here and there."

The anxious young Romulan skipped over mentioning the three mercenaries that had kidnapped Doctor Dael back during Shore leave that she had put in critical condition, nearly killing them with her bare hands. Though, since she had made a full report, she assumed that the ships Chief Intelligence Officer was likely well aware of that.

"Now, now, Lieuten'nt- we all need tuh update owuh toolkits whenevuh we see new tools used. Ah've got a few derhtee tricks that Intel gave me, but new puh'spect'ves ah how we stay alive in thuh face of evil, out heah," he offered gently, noticing the change in her demeanor- having, indeed, read the reports on what she'd had to do to rescue the Doctor, he knew she'd hurt her own soul when she'd injured the despicable filth who were trying to doom her friend to slavery and worse. He spoke seriously, for a moment, his bushy brows knitted in compassion.

"Yuh did whut ya had ta do, t'save 'em. They'd've been scorch mahks on th'walls if they'd faced a non-Fleetuh." His face lightened, and he nodded, adding, "Now, then. Teach on, Mis'tress ov thuh mahshull ahrts..."

While Dox expected it, it was not a pleasant reminder under any circumstances considering their ultimate fates at the hands of Death, herself. But she righted herself and took a breath as she continued. "Thank you."

"Well, since Ensign Gonadie would be very put out if I came home a walking bruise after this, I feel like a little extra precaution is in order. Our EVA suits only increase strength by a factor of four, but it also offers significant protection for me that will be appreciated and make it easier for us to do this." Then the rotund Romulan spoke to the room. "Computer. Authorization, Dox. M. Lieutenant. Access code 795-X9E. Please initiate EVA Armor up protocols for sparing version."

Dox stood still with her arms out at her side as the shimmering lights of the transporter flared for a moment around her. In its wake, she was now wearing the metallic crimson plates of her EVA armor, without any of the attached weapons or computer interfaces. Her visored helmet was also replaced with a simple red padded headpiece that wrapped around the sides of her face, leaving the thick red curls of her hair to pop out the open top. As it completed, Dox called up to the room. "Excellent. Thank you."

=^=You're Welcome, Lieutenant Dox.=^= The computer replied with a chirp as Dox grinned.

Swinging her arms back and forth for a moment, Dox wanted to be sure the suit was properly affixed and functioning. "Okay. Well, as you likely are aware, Llaekh-ae'rl is a Romulan martial art translated to mean 'Laughing Death'. When Commander Paris asked me to do a demonstration with the new Security officers, she specifically asked me to show a few defensive moves, holds and the like. Which was a little tricky since most of this is all kind of designed to just... well... mess people up as quickly and efficiently as possible. And to be honest, I'm not the best teacher in the world and I doubt you need a basics refresher."

Walking over, Dox stood in the center of the room. "So... instead... what I can do is show you the advantages you can glean from this. As it is, you've got 8 inches of height and a full foot of additional reach on me. To say nothing of far more power. However, there are ways to take that and make it your advantage as much as possible which is a big part of Llaekh-ae'rl."

There are very few scenarios where I'm the biggest or strongest person in the room, so I have to compensate for that. And the number one rule is never make the first move. Always let your opponent lead, because when someone leads, they give themselves open spots every time. "Please, just throw a basic punch at my head."

The IntelGineer nodded, and assumed a Fleet security stance, then moved in, doing standard anti-telegraphy tactics to mask which hand would actually be coming in for the strike.

He didn't decide until the last split second, and his left fist lashed out in a controlled strike, aiming for the nerve point at Dox's right jaw hinge. While the arm wasn't fully-cybernetic, it was augmented, and under controlled conditions could still deliver a far more powerful strike than any fully-human fist would be able to. There was a shimmer that rippled down all of his limbs just before the arm lanced toward her, the result of the SIF systems auto-sensing a high-velocity impact "approaching" one of his extremities.

While Dox was expecting a fast blow, she barely bobbed her head back out of the way fast enough as Clemens' fist sailed just inches from her face as she sidestepped to her left slightly. At the same time, with a quickness belied by her stocky frame, she brought her arms up. The right arm hooked around the wrist as the punch whipped by and her left arm snapped with medium force with a palm strike just above the elbow, forcing his arm straight for a second. With his arm in position, she shifted her weight to swing her right foot in front of his on the ground.

But rather than follow through, Dox simply released his arm and stepped back. "Fantastic. And you barely telegraphed at all. One lesson so many instructors lean on that's complete nonsense is to look you opponents in the eye to know when they move. You watch their shoulders and their hips because that's where all the energy comes from in a strike. And that would have laid me out had it connected."

"With Llaekh-ae'r, one of the core tenants is that if an arm attacks you, kill the arm. Now, with your augmentations, your elbow would be sore at best if I applied full force. But even someone my size doing that can arm lock a Vulcan for a long enough to do some damage. On a non-augmented human, even a moderate amount of force and that elbow can be shattered at the joint and that arm is no longer a threat." Dox continued.

"From there, with the arm under your control, you have a massive number of maneuvers you can use to control, incapacitate or simply devastate an opponent. For example..." She walked up to Clemens and pressed her hand against his side right under his right rib cage.

"Considering the nerve you were aiming at, I'm sure you know that a proper strike to the vagal nerve right here will shut the liver down in most humanoids. Just be careful on me or any other Vulcanoids. As I'm sure you can imagine, that strike is taught extensively in Llaekh-ae'r because it's essentially a one-punch kill done correctly on Romulans." She paused for a moment. "You keep your liver here, that's where my heart is."

As she demonstrated the technique, and noted her cautions for the sparring, Sam nodded at each, making certain to actively-acknowledge each point, so there was no possibility of miscommunication. Mistakes with the strength of twenty (or more) men could and likely would be fatal.

"Ah'm gonna be as careful as possible, but let's make shuh Miss Com'putah knows 'zacktly what we're tryin' to prevent," The Spooky Action At Close Range looked up, as though he were talking to a bird in mid-flight, and said, "Deah Smaht Guhl, didja get all Miss Dox'n I wuz tawkin' 'bout, relatin' t'not causin' ennah real inj'ries?"

From overhead, a voice replied, "Why, certainleh, Lewtenant Claym'ns. Ah would nevah dream of cawzin' ennay hahm to any of mah crew. Rest assur'd, y'all will be safe in mah care." Unlike Clemens, her accent was light and airy, more of a lilt than a drawl.

Clemens beamed at the response, nodding. "Thankya, deah ladeh."

Looking up at the room, Dox knitted her eyebrows, confused, taking a moment to process what she was reasonably sure was just said. After a few seconds of parsing through the accents, Dox shook her head with a grin. "So, Lieutenant Clemens. How would you prefer we proceed? Would you like to go one move at a time or just go at it and learn as we go?"

He assumed a basic starter stance. "Let's jus' see how we react tuh each uthuh, throw it all at thuh wahl, an' see whut sticks?"

He began circling her at a discrete distance.

In the center of the room, Dox stood motionless for a moment, watching Clemens' body language. She worked through her options and mentally re reviewed his capabilities. He was impossibly strong and remarkably fast. In a real fight, she had zero chance of surviving and she knew it. But this was just sparring, so she focused on what she needed to know.

What language did the ginger Intel Chief really speak. With her left, she threw a wide, telegraphed punch to his side. It broke her first rule of combat, never make the first move, but it was for a purpose.

Sam obviously saw it coming, even before his collision alert system told him so, but he wanted to see what Dox had to offer. He feinted a dodge, but it was not quite fully-implemented. He made sure his structural integrity field was suppressed down to only enough to not let his cybernetics cause his biologicals injury, around the 10 percent mark.

As the punch landed, he noted the impact angle, speed, and newtons per square inch delivered. It stung, and he'd likely have a little bruise there, but his plated ribs and vital protection mesh system kept the structural damage minimized.

Nonetheless, it was a force, and rather than resisting it, he blew air out to lessen the impact, as his basic Starfleet "Fleet-Fu" courses had taught him. Normally, there was a "dance backward" move that accompanied any sure-fire hit, as part of the maneuver, but he stood his ground.

As soon as she connected, he lashed out his own left arm, aiming for her right shoulder, as an attempt to impart a clockwise spin on her, while her balance was busy driving her strike.

Not looking forward to taking a hit from the bionic Chief, Dox instead slid back on her feet, leaning back just out of the way as Clemens' swing again just barely missed her chin. He was extremely quick which was getting Dox nervous, which she didn't like in a fight scenario, as she was now wide open.

At his miss, Sam, ducked down into a roll to her left, coming out of it behind her. His recovery wasn't the best, because he was a bit unbalanced in limb strength, since the auto-balancing systems were turned off to make the fight more fair, so he stumbled backward a bit, as he came up, presenting his right side to her by about 15 degrees, facing slightly away from her.

Stumbling back, off balance, Dox felt herself begin to panic before a calm washed over her and her eyes went slightly flat. Her Mother's training was kicking in and she righted herself and shot a quick, tight jab around under Sam's arms towards his ribs.

"Oof!" escaped Sam's mouth, as the impact moved his ribs inward, despite reinforcement. This caused a shockwave to propagate toward his vagas nerve and aortic artery, causing both the sound and a blood pressure spike along the aorta, flying up toward his heart, and down toward his solar plexus. The result? A moment of blindness, caught breath, and further loss of balance.

The experienced Intel agent toppled like a tree felled by straightline winds in a storm. He rolled up on an elbow, eyes tearing up involuntarily, and gasped out, "...poynt tuh yuh..." then worked to catch his breath.

Instantly, Dox snapped back and looked down in shock. "Hnave!" She cursed in Rihan.

"I... I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I got... I let myself get carried away." In reality, in her moment of panic Dox had let a lifetime of harsh conditioning from her task mistress of a mother overtake her. She stepped back then forward, hesitantly offering her hand. "Are you okay?"

Clemens struggled to his feet, rubbing his ribs. "Gotta work on sumpin' t'keep uh bad guy from tryin' that..." he said, with a wan smile.

"That wuz sum fanceh wuhk, Miss Dawx...ah'm impressed." He chuckled, adding, "...ah'll be analyzing that move foah days, tryin' t'werk up a countuh-move."

"Uh... thanks." Dox didn't feel overtly proud in the moment, but tried focusing on the purpose of the session which was a teaching exercise. "You're keeping your guard high, but I'm nearly a foot shorter than you. Keep your arms looser and lower and you can defend a broader area by redirecting hits rather than a hard block."

She stepped back and loosened up again. "Okay... whenever you're ready."

He nodded, signaling readiness, having caught his breath."Let's go."

This time, no longer feeling each other out, both officers had an idea of what to expect from each other. Their capabilities and limitations were now slightly clearer as they slowly circled for a long moment before either made a move. Then, after a tense few seconds of stillness, Dox moved. This time not with a faint, but with a legitimate strike to Clemens' sternum that the Intel Chief Quickly deflected. And with that, the fight was joined with each striking faster each time as the pair circled each other, striking, blocking, deflecting and following up. For a full thirty seconds, the two moved, neither landing a blow until finally the ginger spook did the unexpected and ducked BELOW one of Dox's higher jabs and tagged her in the mid-section with a swift straight thrust that knocked the hefty Romulan woman back off of her feet.

Never losing a moment, Dox rolled back up to her feet with a slight grin at Clemens' move. She was officially enjoying herself now.

Running back into the fray, the moves got quicker and more powerful. Clemens kept his own augmented bionics leveled down to more closely match his opponent so as to not do any harm, but otherwise, no punches were pulled. As they progressed, each fighter tagged the other a few times, each giving as good as they got. Taking out Clemens' knee with a sidekick, Dox threw the enhanced Intel Chief to the mat, but before she could follow up, his swift legs knocked her back hard against the padded walls.

Separated, the two rose to their feet, now clearly beginning to both show a little fatigue, Dox shook her head and let out a deep, gravelly laugh. "Commander Paris was right. This IS a weird way to unwind, but it is fun."

The Missourian Master of MicroManaging Mischief leaned back against the wall, a knee up, foot against it, not unlike the pose he'd struck just before entering the initial welcome briefing when he'd first come aboard.

"Ah reckon we oughta take a break. Ah feel like ah've been thru a whole s'mestuh class on yuh fightin' style," he opined, adding "...which is pretteh damned nifteh. It scales up an' down as much as ya need fuh thuh sit'yashun."

Sliding back against the padded wall, Dox fell to a sitting position to rest, her arms draped over the tops of her knees. "It's... It's something that without which, I probably wouldn't be here right now. There were more than a few times I had to use that before joining Starfleet that could have gone bad for me."

Relaxing a bit more, Dox let out a slight chuckle. "Of course, it also almost got me kicked out of the academy. So you take the good with the bad, I suppose."

Sam slid down the wall, slowly, bottoming out with his back supported, wincing a bit, as the workout and earlier shock started to settle in. "Aw, them's jus' jealous folks that can't handle gettin' beat by someone they'd figgered fer an easy mark. You got yerself here, fair 'n square. I know a cheater when I see one- and you're not crooked." He took a draw off his water bottle. "It wuz mah seventeenth buthday b'fore ah learn'd t'listen t'mah instincts as well as ah should've been doin' all along." He wiped his brown with his towel, but the sweat just kept rolling out.

"Well, I didn't need to put him in the hospital, but he didn't need to be checking girls off of some kind of sick 'alien lay' checklist." Dox chuckled, stretching her neck out. "But thanks. Being Romulan, it's generally just assumed I'm cheating or lying at everything half the time so I appreciate it."

"Aw, shucks, Miss Dawx. A lady oughta be assumed t'be tellin' th'truth by d'fault, anyway, 'less she's shown tehndensees t'be d'ceptive awlreddy." Sam hung his head a bit, after another big draw on the water, and took a deep breath. "Ah sweah...ain't enough time in thuh day t'git everythin' done an' sleep, too. Ah must be gettin' old..."

He perked up, eyes bright, with the patented Clemens Grin on his face, and added, "R'mind me t'tell yuh about th'time I...about th'time I...about the time I...about..." Face frozen, his eyes rolled back.

And he slumped over.

A klaxon went off, and a worried-sounding matronly voice emanated from the sudden holographic projection hovering above Clemens' head.

"M.A.U.R.E.E.N. Protocol Engaged! Assistance required! Assistance required! Administering aid!"

Across the room, Dox shot up in shock, cursing in Rihan. "Imirrhlhhse!! Clemens?! CLEMENS?!?"

Bolting back to her feet, Dox slid across the room on her knees at his side, feeling for a pulse. "SAM!! What the hell?! DOX TO SICK BAY!!! Medical Emergency in Holodeck one! Lieutenant Clemens... he... he just collapsed!!"

TO BE CONTINUED

CLEMENS WILL RETURN IN:

"CRASHING THE DANDY COOT"

Sam slept.

And as he slept, he dreamed. He dreamed of many things, as a single night can contain an entire lifetime. But not this night- it was, in most respects, a perfectly normal night of dreams, something that, on some deep level, was reassuring to Sam. Normal, everyday, slice-of-life stuff. Except it wasn't even night. And it wasn't normal.

Until his great, great, times-twenty-five grandfather showed up. While he was tying his shoes.

"What do ya think yuh doin', boah??"

The moustache was truly legendary. So was the stogie.

Sam (the latter) raised up, slowly, taking in the astoundingly-brilliant Southern Gentleman's attire, and sat there for a moment, as he remembered the last time he'd seen him...

...and the dream became lucid.

Latter Sam sat back, and drawled, "Hello...Mahk."

The bushiest of eyebrows lowered, like an oncoming storm. "That wuz mah pruh'feshun'l name." The gloom and doom held for a moment, but then the teeth like the sun broke through.

"Ah, hell. Ah can't be mad atchya, son. Yer proof that it was all true...not some fevah dream. An' that muh faith wuzn't misplaced," the Ancient Author announced.

Sam just shook his head. "Grampa... what thuh livin' hail is goin' on??"

Sam the Elder legged himself up on a stool, and took to expostulatin'.

"You've been soljerin' on, wuhkin' yuh' arse off. Fightin' th'Good Fight, an' ah'm proud uv ya, ah am, truly." He leaned in a bit.

"But'cha can't go on, skippin' sleep, son. 'Taint healthy. An' don't try't'snowball me, boy- we'ah in yoah haid- know y'ain't been restin'."

Sam had started to object, but knew his bluff was already called. "Awright, awright. But ah got way too much t'do, an'precious little time t'git it done. Hell, ah'm only half a man, anyway- ah shouldn't need as much sleep," he began...

...and like lightning, Samuel Langhorne Clemens The First lashed out his open hand, and slapped his descendant square in the back of his head, hard enough to make the boy see stars.

Mark sat back up straight, and beamed a glare at the young man.

"Don't you EVAH tawk about yuhself oah ANYONE ELSE like that, you whelp! PITY IS NOT HOW WE DO THANGS," he roared, like the lion he was.

Sam sat there, stunned, rubbing the back of his head, absently, a flush creeping up his neck toward his face, driven by equal parts initial anger, then shame. "Ah'm sorreh, suh. Ah wuz raised bettuh than that." He hung his head.

"You'd bettah be," the old man groused. Then he reached out, and laid a gentle hand on Sam's head. "You gotta think bettuh of yuhself, an' uh'thuhs, Sam. Gittin' huht oah sick doesn't make yuh any less impoaht'unht, or wuhthwhile. An' you do got a whole heap uh wuhk t'do." He straightened back up.

"But you can't do it in here. An' you can't do it if'n you d'stroy yuhself out theah. You gotta rest when thuh restin's t'be had. You got peepuhl out theah who need yuh, an' that means no moah runnin' y'self intuh th'ground."

"An' that means ya gotta stop runnin' away from propuh sleep. No one evah knows if'n they'll wake aftuh they lay theah head down- but thems thuh only game in town, Samuel."

Sam looked up, a little shocked that Mark knew, but then shook his head, and chuckled. "You, of all people, could spot the wool-pulling a mile away, grandfather." He looked concerned. "Can you tell me what the hell happened with my sword and clothes and gun? How can they be on the ship with me? They're not real, after all."

Mark Twain, writer of fiction, witness to the far-flung future, gambler, father, husband, and explorer, just grinned at the young man, and tipped his hat. "Don' make assumptions, boah. And keep 'em close. Yer gonna need' 'em. Goodbye foah now."

...and the room went dark.

TO BE CONTINUED

The whine of inter-ship transport filled the well-appointed medbay, as the limp form of Lieutenant Samuel Clemens (the somethingorother) materialized directly on the transport-tagged-and-enhanced crash-bed. He was clearly unconscious, but the vitals monitor indicated generalized depressed vitals all across the board.

A small holoprojection readout hovered above him, with a duplicate of the biobed readings, plus cybernetic systems readings and a scrollable history of vitals for the last hours. The heading read, "M.A.U.R.E.E.N. Protocol Engaged", with a list of medicines administered by the cybernetics melded to his body in the intervening time.


Running into sickbay, still wearing her crimson EVA armor from her sparring session with Clemens, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox was in a panic. She had no idea what was happening other than the man she was sparring with had inexplicably collapsed shortly after their fight in the Holodeck.

Terrified that she had somehow injured the ginger Intel Chief or worse, her face was painted with terror as she stopped herself in the doorway, desperately trying to not get in the way. So lost in her own concern for Clemens, she initially started talking in her native Rihan. "Aeuthn qiu oaii mnek'nra?... Hnave... Is... Is he alright?"

Having been on-call, Doctor Asa Dael was snoozing in an empty recovery room in Sickbay. The medical staff had taken to 6 hours on duty, 6 hours on call in preparation of the burst of deliveries expected from pregnant crew members with similar due dates. As a result, the CMO had taken to resting and reading in a recovery room when on-call to be available, just in case. They had not anticipated the “in-case” covering the cybernetics-enhanced Lieutenant Clemens beaming in with Lieutenant Dox rushing in wearing armor, but Asa did their best to roll with the punches.

Hearing the panic in the nearby room, Asa came running, prepared for the worst. Taking in the scene in front of them, the doctor gently moved Mnhei’sahe to the side and began reviewing the readouts on the biobed Clemens was resting on.

“Take a deep breath for me, ok? Can you tell me what happened?” Asa asked Dox gently, medical tricorder already whirring as the doctor used their other hand to type in commands for scans for the bed to perform.

Trying to calm down, Dox took a few breaths and replied. "We... we were in the Holodeck sparring. He wanted me to demonstrate some... Some Romulan martial arts stuff. It... We we're going at it for a bit pretty hard but I didn't think anything was wrong."

As Dox spoke, it was clear she was starting to wind herself back up. "I didn't even think it was possiblefor me to hurt him. But we were taking a break and sitting down. And... and he started sweating a lot while we were talking, and then he just started repeating himself over and over and just.... he just collapsed right there!"

The anxious young Romulan was pacing out of the way and talking with her hands. "Then that hologram popped out and said he needed medical assistance. So I called sickbay and had him beamed here. I don't... I don't know what happened, Asa."

Keeping their voice steady and professional, the “Doctor” voice that Starfleet had drilled into all their students, Asa replied smoothly, “We will figure it out, I will do everything in my power for Clemens. Why don’t you take a seat, ok?”

Ensign Carrott, a tall red-headed human man, was currently on duty and had come over to assist Asa with their patient. A good natured person, he picked up on Dox’s anxiety and guided her to a nearby seat, kneeling to make eye contact with her as he asked, “Can I get you some hot tea, Lieutenant? Or would you like to use one of our suites to remove your armor? It may make you more comfortable while Doctor Dael works.”

With her attention focused on Asa and Clemens, Dox was momentarily distracted by Ensign Carrott. "Huh? Uh... no... No, I'm fine, thank you." But she took the offered seat to stay out of the way as best as possible.

Sparing a quick glance to the pair watching them work, Asa replied, “Thank you, Ensign.”

After grabbing a small light, Asa shone the bulb into Lieutenant Clemens eyes, confirming visually what the scans from his prosthetics and the biobed were already telling them. Stroke. A deep scan revealed a blood clot had formed in Sam’s right frontal cortex, blocking blood flow and causing a stroke. Asa quickly injected alteplase into his arm, allowing the medicine to work quickly to dissolve the clot. The doctor also administered a pain relief agent and blood thinning agents.

“He should be waking up shortly,” Asa said gently, “I don’t think this had anything to do with sparring, Mnhei’sahe. Strokes usually have a variety of factors feeding into them, and I will need to speak with Sam to understand how someone who was healthy as a horse four months ago now has a blood clot in his brain. It’s going to be ok though, we caught it in time.”

Seeing Clemens' eyes start to flutter open, Asa called gently, "Hey there, spymaster. You in there?" Come on, say hello for me."

The spymaster in question groaned, and opened his bleary eyes.

"Doc? The hell happened? Dox and I were talking after sparring, and everything just fritzed, and then I was..." His bushy brows knitted, and then came up. "Nevermind where I was. Everything went black, and I woke up here-"

It was at this exact moment that a warm female voice above the Chief's head announced, "Cognitive functions normal. Clot dissipated. Repairs and restoration from backups completed. M.A.U.R.E.E.N. Protocol ending. Goodnight." The holoprojection shut off.

Sam's eyes bugged, as he realized that it was his own holo-emitter that just shut down. He pushed himself up on one elbow, and just stared at Doctor Dael and Lieutenant Dox.

For her part, Dox tilted her head as she got up from her chair. "Uh... are... are you okay?

The Spy Who Slugged Me finished sitting up, and rubbed his jaw. "Um, yeah. I think so, at least. Did that gal say 'clot'??"

“Hey there, Lieutenant Clemens. So, we have the damage repaired, but you had a stroke. A blood clot had formed in your frontal cortex, which caused a stroke. I’m less concerned about what happened than I am the why. Don’t suppose you have been under any stressors lately that maybe you forgot to seek treatment for? Like perhaps cybernetic limbs not quite functioning as well as originally thought? Or the body/mind connection being destabilized by the process?”

Asa’s tone was level and professional, but the distinct lack of accent from the Lieutenant was enough to raise their internal alarms. They had heard of patients developing an unknown accent after a stroke, but the loss of one was something entirely new….Well, unless you just counted “Federation Standard” accent as a new accent to the southern gentlemen staring at the doctor in confusion.


Clemens looked sheepish. "I've been pulling overnighters, and working very hard...at not sleeping. I don't think I even knew I was doing it on purpose. I...I think I might have been afraid of going back to sleep," he finished, looking at the floor.

He steeled himself, and looked back up. "Thank you both. I promise I'll rest properly. Besides- I need to find out exactly who my new nursemaid is," he said, smiling.

"The good news is that I feel like a million bucks, now. You do great work, Doc."

Glancing over at ASA,, then back to the Intel Chief, Dox knitted her eyebrows as she listened to Clemens talk. "Uh... Nursemaid? Your hologram thing? You mean you don't know what that is?"

The wiry wizard of weird shook his head. "Nah. But I'll bet someone at Fleet Intel does..." He quirked a little smile. "Good thing, too. Probably gave you guys enough time to save me. Thanks again, to both of you."

“Lieutenant Clemens…does your voice and speech pattern sound like it always has to you?” Asa inquired, curious if he had noticed the loss of his accent.

Sam leaned forward, and squinted his bushy brows at them.

"Whaddya mean? Sounds fine to me..."

He looked up and spoke to the ship's computer. "Miss Computer- do you have any non-secured voice recordings of me from before my stroke?"

As Sam was still off-duty, the computer replied promptly with, "Of coahse, Sayum. Would you lahk me tuh play you'ns uh sample from eahliuh t'day?"

Sam smiled at the friendly voice of the computer, speaking in his own accent. "Why, sure thing. And then play back the last fifteen seconds of this conversation for comparison, please."

The system dutifully complied:

"R'mahnd me tuh tell yuh 'bout thuh tahm ah... about thuh tahm ah…about the time I… "

A THUD was heard, and the clip ended. Then:

"Why, sure thing. And then play back the last fifteen seconds of this conversation for comparison, please."

Clemens looked askance at Asa and Dox, bows raised. "What? It's all me."

Cocking an eyebrow, Dox slowly turned to look at Asa, then back to the ginger spymaster. "Seriously? You can't hear a..."

Straightening back up as she spoke, the perplexed Romulan woman continued. "Sam, I speak four languages and had to struggle to understand that last bit. But now... since you woke up...your accent is gone."

Nervously, Dox looked around the room. The last time one of her friends had mysteriously lost their accent was when the Baroness had begun merging with the embodiment of Death. But Dox, Asa and Sam we're among the only people on the ship that could see Death, and it was clear nobody saw her anywhere near, and if Sam and her were bonded, Death would have been there.

Sitting down on a nearby stool, Asa tapped their chin thoughtfully.

“Ok, I think I know what’s going on,” they said, “First, nothing is showing on your scans as permanent damage. We got that covered. But….sometimes when someone has a stroke they get something called ‘secondary stroke-induced accent syndrome.’ Which is just a lot of words to say that a person can acquire a new accent after recovering from a stroke. It’s like the language part of the brain just jumps a track and decides it’s going to come out a different way. I think, for you Sam, this means you lost your accent. Unless something else feels off, would you like me to investigate?”

Sam sat there, somewhat dumbfounded. Which was something akin to what she'd just advised him of, in fact.

He certainly wasn't stricken dumb, of course. He got a thoughtful look, and replied, "Nae, lass. Ah ken ah'm rrright 's retain, 'ceptin 'fairrr noo bein' able tae heather th'diff'rrrence 'tween me oen naytive och'cent 'n aethairrrs."

It could slice neutronium, but it was definitely not his original accent. Nor was it the neatly-clipped American Northwestern accent he'd woken up with.


Not entirely sure what was being said, Asa looked at the pair for a moment before adding, “Um, I’m not entirely sure what’s being discussed, but please don’t call me lass, Lieutenant. I’m not mad, I know you are still recovering, but I don’t think there is a Scottish colloquialism for agendered persons, so maybe make one up and we will roll with it if this is the speech pattern you are adopting?”

Clemens looked frustrated, and replied in his new default accent, "Nooo. And I'm terribly sorry. When you learn accents during Intel training, they're part of a cover, which usually includes a cultural imprint, for the sake of maintaining cover. I haven't used that accent in years, and never when speaking to an agendered person. Please forgive me for the foul-up, Doc. I wasn't even sure it'd work at all, to be honest. I was trying to go for inured Scottish Highlands on Earth, and I didn't trust that it even got out of my face."

With a laugh, Asa replied, “That makes more sense actually. I was worried that somehow you were rapid cycling between accents, and that would be a whole other ‘hill of beans’ as I’m understood the saying goes. Never understood that one, honestly. Why would anyone want an entire hills worth of beans? Anyway, I’d like you to stop by engineering and have Thex check and make sure nothing is misfiring on the cybernetics front. And…well, permission to speak freely in front of Lieutenant Dox?”

Sam smiled at the colloquial use by Asa. "Of course. She literally saved my life, after all."

“Ok then. There’s not an easy way to put this….you are pushing yourself too hard. Even with the trauma you have been through, heck, because of the trauma you have been through, you gotta take some time, sir. You need sleep. Every night. Not just when it’s convenient. And you need time awake not spent working or training. Find something that helps you unwind that might have tactical advantages in the future, like chess or something, and cultivate that for a bit if you feel the need to always be productive. But you just cannot keep on like this. You aren’t any good to anyone dead, and if Dox hadn’t been there, well, there’s a chance that could have happened. The computers aren’t omniscient, neither is the medical staff, nor are we omnipresent, in spite of the EMH’s best intentions. So, lotta words to say something simple, but, Sam, you really need to rest more, ok?”

The CMO had never referred to Clemens by his first name, and as usual they weren’t entirely sure how it would be received. However, he was a good old fashioned human man, and all the psychology textbooks said human males would listen more adeptly when referred to by their first name. Plus, Asa liked Sam. He was funny and smart, not to mention invaluable to the crew. They would be bereft if anything befell him, and the urgency and earnest tone in their voice spoke of friendly care and affection.

The eclectified electrified engineer looked appropriately-abashed, and sighed.

"Yer right, of course. I just kept having trouble getting sleep- too much to be done, too much to see. I couldn't stop thinking enough to sleep, most nights." He paused, and added, "Funny, though-"

"I never got strung out from it. Just kinda switched off."

Tapping their chin thoughtfully, Asa said, “It’s possible your fatigue bio-feedback sensors are not operating properly. You should be getting warning from your cybernetic enhancements when you are approaching your limit, and it doesn’t sound like you are? Are you wanting that feedback, or would it be a hindrance in the field?”

The cybernetic charmer considered the options, and made a decision.

"Well, I obviously didn't turn it off, so it'll need fixing… but a way to consciously-override it is kinda needed, just in case. You never know if a psychotic Intel agent is just the thing needed for a successful mission," he smiled wryly. "Right?"

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by everything she was hearing, Dox was a bit confused but also concerned. "Psychotic's not good, Sam." She thought back to her own momentary lack of control during their sparring where her fight training took over.

Sam gave her The Look. The one that said, "Can no one tell when I'm joking, now??" and hung his head, before sighing and holding up his right hand, with the first and index fingers extended.

"Scout's honor. I've got no plans to skip any more sleep unless my life or others' depend on it."

"All right then, let's see if engineering can fix the fatigue feedback sensors and install a manual override. And just for good measure let's schedule a sleep study to make sure when you do sleep that you are getting proper rest. Say two nights time?"

Sam yawned, and replied, "Oh, you bet, Asa. I feel two bricks shy of a load."

Thex had a long day and it showed even before she opened her mouth in a yawn. Thankfully the door to her quarters was in front of her and graceful opened. The smell of a warm andorian fish stew meets her noise which brought a smile to her face.

Her anear lover sat at the table with a smile on her face.

Hello, love i made you some food. The white girl who shared her heart said to her. Thex simply smiled placed a kiss on her mate's cheek before sitting next to her. She was lucky to have her.

The sound of her computer buzzing made the andorian pause a spoon halfway to her lips.

=^= Incoming call from the USS Amaterasu. lieutenant JG Thav Th'ovohrot. =^=

Thex and Tathaa both paused. That was one of the andorians who'd been looking for another pairing.

" Put him through." Thex said as she turned to look at the big screen on her wall.

On the screen, appeared the face on a young and fairly handsome Andorian man. He was wearing a gold uniform with one solid and one hollow pip and seemed to be sitting somewhat at attention. He had a pleasant but controlled smile and a noticable scar running down the side of his face.

Nodding slightly in greeting, he began to speak. His voice was deep, with a light bit of gravel to it. "Greetings. I'm lieutenant Junior Grade Thav Th'ovohrot, of the Starship Amaterasu. Have I the pleasure of addressing Lieutenant Commander Thex's sh'Zoarhi and Ensign Tathaa?"

Well he's a good looking one Thex heard in her face from her anear mate as she leaned forward. She wouldn't lie he was rather attractive. " Yes that us. We saw you were looking for another pair to complete your quad. I hope you're still available?" The chief of engineering asked hoping she was being polite enough.

Tilting his head slightly as he spoke, his smile loosened a little. He couldn't hear what Tathaa had expressed, but Thex's slight shift in expression told the observant officer that his call was not unwelcome before she had even spoke, which bolstered his confidence even more. "Indeed. My mate and I have put... considerable thought into the idea of completing our quad and... I'm not embarrassed to say... we're encouraged to learn of you and your mate reaching out."

"Am I correct in that we have your Captain to thank for pointing you in our direction?" The charming Andorian man added.

" Yes, she's friends with your captain and he mentioned you and your mate were looking for another paring. " Thex replied making a mental note to herself to thank the captain. " Is there anything you'd like to know about us in particular. It says on your profile that the two of you were born in deep space. that must have been something. " The andorian said hoping to break the ice.

"Well, we may all have to thank our Captain's if I don't completely put my proverbial foot in my mouth." Thav commented as his smile broadened. "I suppose I'd like to learn as much as possible, really. All we know is your names, ranks and position. Intel ship records don't really give much else, after all. And I'm more than willing to answer any questions you might have."

Leaning slightly closer to the screen, his posture loosened as he relaxed a little. "In matters of security, I can be fairly well guarded. But this isn't a security matter, after all. So, yes. Oribiar and I are both spacers, born and bred. It's certainly given the both of us our fair share of hopefully interesting stories. What about you?"

" Oh yes, we both have interesting stories from are time on the homeworld." Tathaa replied as she began the tale of her own childhood amongst the crystal gardens of her people.

Thex couldn't help but smile as she told him the story of her own childhood. Of growing up among a religious cult, her daring escape, and her eventual joining starfleet. " So that's me. Not what most people expect. " She said with a grin.

"It certainly isn't. It's quite the... exciting life you've lead. I can't say that I have anything to particularly compete with that, but I'll certainly try, given the chance. But, do you have specific questions for me?" Thav replied.

" Yes, I have a rather important question. Me and Tathaa both have an altered gene which has expanded are fertility cycles length. Would that be a problem for the two of you? " Thex asked.

At that question, the young gold-clad Andorian on the screen looked a bit more thoughtful. "Altered? I... Couldn't say that it would be a problem or not." His expression was one of slight confusion as he had a slight, half smile. "I don't quite know what it means. Could you elaborate on what that means regarding your fertility cycles?"

" Um, we have a gene added to us that prevented the five year fertility period and stops the DNA degrading. It should help us avoid any issues with reproduction." Thex explained.

Looking a bit surprised, but not unpleasantly so, Thav replied. "Well, that sounds like something if an advantage, all things considered. So I can't see how that would be a problem. Although that's not too much of a factor as we've not even met in person just yet."

He leaned back slightly in his seat. "So, you're the Chief Engineer of a Starship. Your anear is a nurse. What lead you to those positions? What are your interests?"

" Well, we both always had an interest in fixing things. Thex in machinery and me in people. We both have an interest in swimming and dancing. Thex here been teaching me how to dance like an orion. " The anear said which did cause her andorian mate to blush slightly.

With that comment, Thav relaxed a bit more. It was a telling revelation that let the Andorian security officer know he was being fairly well received so far. "Well, I can't say that I'm much of a dancer, though Oribiar might disagree with me. I... I do play the [INSTRUMENT NAME], however. So that's one way these skills might work together."

"Oribiar has far more dancing skill than I do. He will be off duty in a few minutes, so I look forward to introducing him." Thav added.

His mate had no idea of knowing it, but Oribiar had just left his work after another long day of filling out reports and arguing with people along the federations long chain of command. He ran his fingers through his short hair as he made his way down to the enlisted quarters he and his mate shared.

The door slid open and he immediately scowled at his mate's boots that had been left on the floor. He loved him dearly, but he didn't help...

His eyes noticed the on screen and the andorian and the anear. He was sure he'd..

It hit her. That recording that he'd been shown by one of the flyboys down in the shuttle bay.

Snapping up he looked over at his mate. " Thav you didn't say we were having company?" he said knowing these were the two who had sent the request for info for their peoples complicated mating.

"Well, the timing for a sub-space call was ideal, and I knew you'd be here soon, so I just made the arrangements and got started. Soooo... Commander Thex, Ensign Tathaa, this is my mate, Oribiar. Uh. Lieutenant JG Oribiar Th'thiasreq." Thav awkwardly tried to smooth over the faux pax.

" Hello, Oribar. Busy day?" Thex asked.

" Very. Keeping track of everything can be an absolute nightmare." The andorian responded as he relaxed slightly.

"I can never tell if he's complaining about work or keeping track of where I put my shoes." Thav commented..

" Well, it's nice to meet you Thex and Tathaa. It's been too long since we've had the company of two fine female specimens of are species." Oribar said as he took a seat next to his mate.

"Indeed..." Thav added. "So, what's the next step? I am hoping you're interested in learning more about us."

" Well, we could book an appointment on the holodecks and have a date and a drink. Get to know each other better and have some fun." Thex suggested. it had worked for her anear.

"I think that sounds like a very good next step. Do you agree, Ory?" Thav smiled slightly broader, checking eith his mate.

" Sounds great. " Oribar responded to his mate.

With a smile, Thav turned back thd the screen and propped himself up a bit straighter in his seat. "Well, then. Unless you have any objections, I can prepare a schedule for idea sub-space holo-communications and we can all get together in the simulated flesh at your earliest convenience."

" Sounds good. I'll send you the info and we can get something organized. " Thex said before one final goodbye she ended the call.

Turning to look at his mate Oribar let out a slight grin. " Well, they both seem rather nice. Will be nice to meet them in the simulator."

Back on the Hera a smile was on Thex face as she turned to look at the other half of her heart. " So what are we going to wear for the date?"

Despite his body language and personality Thav always did feel nervous when he came on board a new ship. Integrating himself with a new team was always something he worried about messing up even if he had managed it twice before. His gear was already secured in his locker and now he just needed to get his authorization from the ship's chief of security who he'd noted was the ships executive officer.

He made his way to the security office passing a group of his new fellow officers. Another group of females. He seemed to be seeing a lot of them in security. Maybe there was something about the ship.

He put it to the back of his mind as he pressed the door alarm. He had more important things to matter.

There was a pause before the reply came over the door comm. "This is Commander Paris. Can I help you?"

" Hello ma'am it's Lieutenant JG Thav Th'ovohrot, the new Master-at-Arms. I just need my transfer papers signed so I can return to active duty," he responded politely.

"Oh, that's right, Chief Riley rotated out at DS9," the door comm replied, the door still not opening for some reason. "Outstanding, Lieutenant- I look forward to meeting you. Give me five minutes and I'll meet you up there, I'm just finishing up an engineering inspection."

" Okay, I'll see you in a few minutes, ma'am. " The andorian said as he took a seat next to the office door.

Three minutes and change later, the gold-clad commander bustled through the Security office, moving at that high-speed military stride of hers that she was well-known for about the starship Hera. Striding directly up to the blue master-At Arms, she extended her hand in a standard human greeting. The woman was tall for an female earthling- a good 17 cm taller than Thav himself, and possessed of the type of curves that tended to make Human males do stupid things. A warm smile was present there on her face, and her demeanor was friendly, not in the least bit stiff or formal as one might expect from the executive officer of a starship such as this.

"Lieutenant Junior Grade Th'ovohrot? I'm Rita Paris, welcome aboard. I usually handle the new crew onboardings myself, but we were in a bit of a rush leaving DS9. So I'm glad you chased me down. Let's have a talk, shall we?" Stepping up to the door, it opened at her approach and she entered the spartan and mostly empty office.

The andorian gave her arm a good shake before her stepped into her office. It was quite empty. His mate would be rather happy with such an empty office. Less stuff to tidy up. " Thank you ma'am. Is there anything, in particular, you want a word with me about?" He inquired as he took a seat at the desk.

"You came to see me, Lieutenant, so I assume you wanted a word? Am I on the checklist, or the last item on the checklist? Have you already checked in with Sickbay, the Captain and I'm double duty as your First Officer and your section chief?" The Commander took a seat behind the empty desk and leaned back, steepling here fingers like a Vulcan might, while leaning back and neatly crossing her legs.

"I need my section chief's authorization before I can carry weapons on the ship and i'd like to get to know my boss a little better," the master at arms said as he held up the PaDD, a polite look on his face. "It has my weapons authorization, ship boarding and defending results from my last tests from my previous assignment."

For her part Paris noted that her question had been sidestepped, so she took the PaDD and began reviewing it critically. After all, onboarding was where she tended to identify problems, and if the new MAA was a little too eager to be armed and evaded her questions, her suspicious mind was already going to work. "So tell me about yourself, Mr. Th'ovohrot?"

"Well I'm twenty-five years old and this is my third ship. I just transferred here with Oribiar, my mate of two years. We grew up together on the deep space exploration vessel we were born on. Both using the Yrythny solution. I joined the Academy when we returned to the Federation, been in security ever since. " the andorian explained politely. " We're hopefully trying to form a full quad with Thex and Tathaa. I hope it works out, they're both lovely girls."

As he spoke, the commander tapped away at the PaDD in her hands, and was reading as she was listening. There was a pause as she finished reading, then she looked up again. "They are indeed. Friends of mine, truth be told. That Yrythny solution business is troubling- I assume Thex and Tathaa both know about the potential ramifications?"

"Yes me and my mate don't hide it, unlike some andorians that I know off," Thav said a slight hint of disgust in his voice at the last bit showing some past involvement. "We've informed them, and they both willing to give us a go," He said a slight grin forming on his face.

"Mmmm." The sec/tac chief had her own opinions on that, but they had no bearing on the situation. As they were private matters, she set them aside to focus on the task at hand. "What experience do you bring with you? Your service jacket's a little light in that department. I'd like to know your job qualifications, if you wouldn't mind expanding on your skillset?"

"Five years in Starfleet after completing my academy training. Mostly on the USS Aberdeen on anti-pirate patrols. Over fifteen successful boardings and seven repulsing of borders. I know how to maintain almost all of the Federation's weapons and armor. You can thank my parents for that. " Thav replied as he listed his record.

"Almost? As a Master At Arms I would expect better than almost," the security chief opined. "How's your EVA game?"

"Fully qualified with twenty-four hours logged. Two of those in a combat situation. Hope I don't have to go through that again though. Doshi pirates seem made for combat in space." The MAA replied.

"You'd be surprised what you'll run into on this ship. Good to hear that you are already qualified and ready, though we'll have to get you checked out on the TR-116C2's once you're onboarded," the buxom blonde bombshell informed him. "They're a bit unique as Starfleet firearms go, and impressively versatile. A phaser rifle can be handy, but some situations just call for a plasma grenade. All right Mr. Th'ovohrot. What questions do you have for me? Open forum, this is your free shot at any answers you might wish to have answered before I set expectations and check you into the command."

"Well, there's a few I have to ask, but I don't think I have the clearance to know them. You are well aware of the reputation and the rumors that the Hera has picked up and have spread out amongst Starfleet," the andorian added honestly.

Leaning back and looking bemused the head of security smiled. "Actually, I have no idea what the reputation of the Hera is beyond this hull, Mr. Th'ovohrot. I tend to stay rather occupied with ship's business, and I don't get out much. So enlighten me."

"Well, all starfleet ships involved in intel get a reputation. People swear the USS Innsmouth has an unknowable thing living in its reactor coolant tanks and the less said about the Saratoga the better. Well, the Hera has developed a reputation. Rumors of forbidden tech deals with the Romulans and other powers. Then was the one about a VIP who seems to attract female officers to her. Is any of this true or is it just the drunken ramblings of bored ensigns." the andorian inquired.

"We do have the VIP who attracts Amazons, that's true. Thus why most of your coworkers are female in this department. All of them stand guard at the door of the goddess Hera, in VIP quarters 11 on Deck 8. They also escort her whenever she is brought out for walks about the starship, usually to the arboretum. Which seems to have a pronounced effect upon the security officer's physiques, rendering them larger, stronger... etc. So far the males just seem to stay in good shape."

"We've got some interesting R&D in progress, I'll admit. But no tech deals with the Romulans, and we fired off the forbidden technology to save the Alpha quadrant. Any other wild rumors or unusual questions for me? Now's your chance," The security chief offered with a slightly upraised eyebrow, her head cocked a bit and a small indulgent smile upon her face.

"Yes ma'am, I have a few more questions, though not on the unusual rumors side. If I have the clearance to know, might I know what the next mission goal will be, who if any opposition we'll be dealing with, and why we need to practice with the TR-116. Last time I check it wasn't standard issue." the master at arms asked Profesional.

“The next mission has yet to be defined by Starfleet Command- as I understand it, we are headed for port where the Captain has some business to attend to while the rest of the crew enjoys a bit of R&R after the last few hazardous missions. Rest assured, when I know what they are, so too will you.” Drumming her fingers on the desk, the seemingly casual Commander continued.

“As for the TR-116C2, they are most definitely not standard issue. However, you’ll often find that neither are our missions. The weapon is versatile and often quite useful in the missions upon which we find ourselves, in addition to the trusty phaser. You can choose to eschew it if you wish, but the title ‘Master At Arms’ tends to lead one to a belief in a level of expertise in weaponry that is reflected in the title.” While the expression might have been delivered with sarcasm, it seemed the head of Security was not joking nor was she making light of the subject. “You’ll also find that many of the Security force tend to favor the modern iteration of my old Type 2 phaser, which is more pistol shaped than its modern descendant. This is authorized and encouraged, as it is a personal preference of mine, unsurprisingly, and it has caught on with the Security staff.”

"Will do, boss. I haven't seen a type 2 phaser since the academy firearms collection. Will be interesting to see how one handles when it's been updated. Do I have permission to replicate a TR-116C2 and take it apart?" He asked politely. "Best way to work out a gun is to take it apart and see how it works."

That got him an upraised eyebrow as the Commander considered the question. “It’s a replication unit that translates the high-density matter clip into the requisite ammo called for that’s programmed into the rifle. In addition there is a small transporter unit in the barrel of the rifle. If you feel confident about disassembling those and reassembling them in order to learn about the rifle, that’s your choice, Mr. Th'ovohrot. Me, I just read the technical manual and took one to the range… but I’m old-fashioned, as you may have gathered.”

"I'll grab it holographic schematics and take a look at it that way." The andorian responded, his mind bringing up a far more safer option.

“As you like. So, anything else you’d like to cover?” The Security chief spread her arms wide in an encompassing gesture. “As Master At Arms, you will be in charge of the Armory, which means you will be responsible for weapons and armor training with both the security staff as well as any other members of the crew who wish to qualify with weapons or learn or practice with our specific EVA armors. Thus the nature of my questions, as you will be expected to be the resident expert, to instill confidence in the crew members who come to you seeking guidance.”

"I understand boss- I won't let you down and my work will prove it. Is there any training already scheduled that I should be made aware of?" he asked politely.

“None at the moment, but feel free to start scheduling some. Well, other than the 08:00 Monday morning hand to hand training- we’re trying out a new trainer, so I am curious how it may work out. And as an aside- please don’t call me ‘boss’. Chief or Commander would be better, I’ll settle for ma’am and whatever you do, don’t call the captain ‘sir’ if you value your career,” Paris explained, wondering if the new guy would think she was joking.

"Very well commander. I'll make sure I'll be there at 08:00. If there's nothing else you need, I'll start taking inventory of the ships armories weapons. " The andorian replied as he understood at once.

"Carry on, Mister Th'ovohrot, carry on..."

A Brief History of Samuel Langhorne Clemens XXV

From the time Mark Twain's son Langdon died, forward, there were no more descendants. He died of a preventable disease. When Twain went forward in time in Time's Arrow, and spent time in Sickbay, and heard Crusher preach about how stupid it was that things used to kill people that could be prevented, Clemens heard it all.

His grief over having lost Langdon to an easily preventable disease made a huge change in him. When he went back, it was through a time travel method without any form of temporal paradox dampeners.
Movement along any dimension imparts inertia on the object being moved. And he went back a longway. He landed in his original time, where he was age 65. But all that temporal energy had to go somewhere. And it held his psychic imprint, like a transporter pattern.

It kept going in the direction he'd been moving, even though he'd stopped. And followed the most compatible path...least resistance.

Right into his younger self. His most powerful thoughts, his biggest regret, was losing Langdon- made newly fresh by discovering that it was an event that didn't have to be.

That impressed in Sam the Younger a great and powerful need for cleanliness- and as a result, prevented Langdon's death. As any parent knows, our children are our dreams for the future.

The ships medbay was quite which the staff on duty were all grateful for. The anenr nurse was going about her business when her anttena started moving at the sound of two familiar voices appeared in her ears.

" Hello, you two here for your checkup." She said as the two male andorians entered the sickbay.

Thav and Oribiar both gave her a smile as they approached the desk. " Yup need the medical checkup before we're cleared for duty. " mind getting the doctor? Oribar asked the white girl of his heart.

Bounding out of their office, Asa had been expecting the pair and was excited to formally meet them. They offered a huge smile and said brightly, "Welcome! I'm Doctor Dael, pleased to meet you."

" Nice to meet you doctor. " Thav said as he pulled a padd from his uniform pocket. " Me and my mate's last medical checkup from are last posting. Just so you know we were both born using the Yrythny solution. "

Accepting the PaDD, Asa looked over the information quickly. "Thank you for telling me. Right this way please, this shouldn't take long."

Asa directed them to the nearest pair of biobeds and set about running the usual scans. While the results were compiling they asked,"So, any concerns you would like to discuss?"

" Yes, we and I'm sure Thex and Tathaa have the same concern. " Thav said leaning up slightly from the bed. " As you know the Yrythny solution has a side effect."

Looking with compassion at Thav, Asa said, "Yes, I know. But I also know you are now serving aboard a ship that has certain elements that cause an increase in the amount of pregnancies, and to-date, the worst complications we have had are cranky partners and unusual cravings. I'm not saying this to make light of your concerns, I'm telling you this so you know- I will do everything I can to help the four of you bring a healthy, happy new life to the universe if that is your wish."

" Thank you, doctor. I'm sure all four of us feel the same way. " The master at arms replied.

" Have any of the tests we've been running turned anything else up? " The anear nurse asked referring to the test they'd been running comparing the know results from the Yrythny solution to Thex and her's gene patch.

"A few protein chains have shown up that will need to be addressed in the Yrythny solution to make them fully compatible with the two of you, but so far nothing that would cause too much concern. The protein chains in question are the ones effecting skin color, so at worst, the baby might not be entirely the expected shade. But I'm sure we can all agree, they will be perfect no matter what hue, right?" Asa said.

" Indeed. Even if they turn out green." the anear nurse jokily said referring to the odd genetic effect of some anear/andorian hybrid children being born with green skin though that was a rarety.

"Excellent!" Asa enthused, "I'm not seeing any issues with conception, but the simulations of the pregnancy do bear a bit more investigation. There are a few solutions to the possible complications, some involving gene therapy, some with simple nutritional and exercise components. Honestly the most important thing is that all four of you are equally committed, but I really don't see any issues there.What questions can I answer for you? I'm sure you have a few. And keep in mind, I'm ships counselor too, and I do recommend some pre-conception therapy for the 4 of you to make sure everyone is of the same mind not just about the pregnancy, but on child-rearing techniques as well."

" Well, I guess we could use all the help we can get. " The nurse responded.

" I know the chances are very slim doctor, but is there any chance of us getting more than one at once?" Asked the ships quatermaster from the biobed.

Rubbing their neck with one hand, Asa considered the question.

“I…I can’t promise that. We can try, but I need you to understand….multiples increase the chances of complications during pregnancy. I’m afraid it won’t be an easy pregnancy anyway, and may even require restricted movement for the zhen….possibly even for the shen during development of the zygote. I’ll do everything I can, but be sure of what you are asking. It is my professional opinion that a single pregnancy has the highest chance of success.”

" Well, i guess we'll find out." The anear nurse added slightly blushing knowing she'd be carrying the zygote. " Besides 90% of our people, pregnancies is a single zygote so we probably won't have to worry."

With a nod, Asa replied, “True. We will need to see what hormone levels everyone is at also to know true odds, and we do have to complete the gene therapy for Tathaa and Thex to have optimal success that we discovered earlier. Which means, we could start that now and you could begin to try in as soon as six weeks….if you like.”

" Could you book me and Thex for the next session of gene therapy?" The anear nurse asked.

" And you can start with the hormone level monitoring." Thav added as he looked over at his mate.

Smiling at both, Asa said, “Of course, we can do both of those things. Let’s have Thex come in when she’s off duty and we can begin gene therapy. And if each of you will wear a small dermal patch for the next six weeks, it will monitor hormone levels in real time and report in to Sickbay so I can check them daily without interrupting your schedules. I’ll just go get some now.”

Asa jotted to the storage area and retrieved two small dermal dots. After quickly programming them with the hormone levels they were to monitor, they returned to their patients.

“You can wear this anywhere, as long as it is directly touching your skin. It shouldn’t come off in the shower, but if it does, I’ll program replacements for you in your replicators. The information will feed into Sickbay automatically, and I’ll alert you to any issues. Sound good?” they asked.

" Sounds good doctor. Thanks for all the help with this. Are people repoductive system is a pain and a half isn't it? " Oribiar said as he placed the tab on his neck.

With a bit of a laugh, Asa said, "Not at all. Every person has unique challenges, and I'm here to help you meet them."

I'm just going to point out that when we have a bottleneck story, what gets built behind them is more than most ships put out in a month. Heck, our backlog is bigger than some fleets.

Just bragging. No humble about it. Very, very proud of all of you.

The order was in- Monday morning at 08:00 hours, the entire Security team was to report to Gymnasium 1 for hand to hand training. Previously Lieutenant Dox had demonstrated some Romulan martial arts, and the Wil'I'Ams sisters had shown some Klingon martial arts maneuvers, although theirs were mostly about using or disarming an opponent to gain their weapon, then using it upon them. Which was of an admittedly limited application within Starfleet, where subdual was preferred if possible.

Thus this week for Monday morning hand to hand training, the Commander had brought in a slender Vulcan woman. Petty officer S'Rina recognized her immediately, as she turned to her sister, whispering excitedly. "That's her! The one Paris brought back from the Wormhole, from the mirror universe!"

Standing off to the other side of Commander Paris, was Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox, who had been asked to participate in the training as well.

The scuttlebutt, as it tended to do, began to spread in murmurs amongst the Security officers. Paris allowed it to continue, to build a bit of intrigue and fascination. Turning to address the Vulcan refugee, the lost navigator spoke quietly.

"We prefer to employ non-lethal force- subdue and restrain when possible. Even our phasers have stun settings. We prefer not to maim or cripple if avoidable. I would like my people combat ready, but not black ops combat ready, if you understand my meaning, Miss Az'Prel?" Paris raised an inquisitive eyebrow to the sole survivor.

"Understood, Commander," replied the displaced Vulcan woman, who was dressed in one of the spare uniforms that had been hanging in her wardrobe. She then raised her voice so the entire room could hear her, yet maintained her logic and discipline. "However skilled I am in martial arts, I have never before trained a large group before, so this will be a learning experience for myself as well."

"As for the lesson, I will be teaching you all the principals of Kun-Laou, one of the many martial arts I picked up over the years. It is designed to use the momentum of both you and your enemy to incapacitate them and allow you to move forward." Taking a stance with feet apart, one palm facing the ceiling over her head and one out in front of her, she performed a series of sweeping and fluid motions, slapping the practice mat several times as she moved across it.

"In the resistance, we were taught two principles first and foremost. First, a closed fist will punish you as much as your enemy. It damages the tendons and cartilage and makes your greatest weapons unusable after a while. So unless you've trained long and hard and are used to punching duranium hull plating with no ill effects, don't do it." She held up her fists and threw a few Buddhist punches to illustrate the point.

Then she made her hands flat. "Keep your hands flat. Less destructive force, but you can quickly take your enemy out of the fight and move on without hurting yourself and you conserve your own strength." To illustrate the point, she once again did a quick, watery smooth dance that slapped the mat several times.

Resuming a somewhat passive stance, the displaced Vulcan woman surveyed the crowd. "Do I have a volunteer?"

The ship's Master At Arms looked around, and upon seeing no was volunteering he raised his hand. Always good to lead by example. He was trained in the kharakom and hleshvalath ways, but they kickboxing and wrestling would be no use at the moment. He knew this was going to hurt.

Az'Prel motioned for him to step forward and demonstrated a few of the motions she had done earlier, slower so he could see them. "Do you think you could repeat those motions on me? You will have to move as quickly as possible with the full force of both of our bodies."

"Yeah, I think so. I was trained in the kharakom and hleshvalath martial arts and a few of the moves move at a similar speed. " He said as he adopted the position he'd be shown.

"Then please do so." Without any hesitation, Az'Prel placed one hand on Thav's shoulder in a threatening manner, fully expecting to either end up face up on the mat or go flying a few feet before having to do a rolling landing.

The Andorian nodded and copied the moves the Vulcan had taught him. It was hard swapping out of what he'd been taught, but he managed to send the Vulcan to the floor.

Az'Prel was able to hit the matt with relative ease and roll back to her feet after a couple of seconds. "That was executed in an exemplary manner. If I had hit deck plating, I would now be unconscious. Thank you." She then bowed to Thav and turned back to the group. And said nothing.

After a moment, she walked over to Paris and Dox and spoke in a lowered voice. "I do not know how to train this many people at once."

Vulcan or not, Dox picked up on a bit of anxiety off of Az'Prel and interjected slightly, "Well, when I first did a demonstration, I had never done so in such a manner either. However, what seemed effective was showing a number of maneuvers like you just did, then allowing the officers to pair off to practice. Then I could walk around and critique people individually. I'd be more than willing to volunteer for you to showcase your techniques on as they're already used to me in this regard."

The slightly nervous Romulan pilot chuckled ever so slightly. "Besides, after my demonstration, they might enjoy watching you toss me around for a while. If that works for you, Commander?"

“Ah… I should have anticipated this,” Paris sighed. Internally her mind worked over the problem- a guerilla fighter who was unaccustomed to groups was, in hindsight, not the best trainer to introduce to the large group. Despite the low human ratio in the room, being surrounded by all of these Starfleet personnel was likely giving the woman what passed for Vulcan anxiety. Internally, Rita kicked herself for not anticipating that the woman who spent her life fighting for it had no classroom skills.

But no matter. Az'Prel was also adaptable, and the solution was simple.

“Okay people, pair off and practice the move,” Paris called out, to at least get the security team doing something while she struggled to come up with a better answer. Unfortunately, she kept coming up dry. "It works for me, Miss Dox, and thank you. Clearly, I should have thought this through considerably more thoroughly… live and learn. Miss Az'Prel, after the demonstrations, if you could, move amongst the personnel to offer corrections and guidance please?"

Smiling, as she remembered how stressed she was the first time she was asked to don't his by herself, Dox nodded. "Absolutely, Commander. We can build on what we've already done and I can help out as needed."

Turning to Az'Prel, Dox nodded respectfully, wanting to keep a professional demeanor with the uncertain refugee. "We can let them run through a few times, watch them for technique then break them up for further demonstrations. I would be happy to assist setting you up for each and helping manage the group if that's acceptable with you?"

"Thank you. Both of you." Az'Prel bowed to both of them in turn, her hands outspread. "And please do not allow my failing in this to color your assessment of me negatively. I simply need to learn new skills to integrate myself into your society."

“Not at all. For your first time in front of a class, you're doing fine- speak clearly, ensure everyone can see and engage the class,” the throwback officer replied, "Better than my first time. Are you all right? I realized after the fact that being surrounded by all of us might be uncomfortable for you, and I signed you up, but never asked if you'd taught a class. We're all learning, Miss Az'Prel. There is no shame in learning, as the wise man says."

Looking out at the floor, Dox tilted her head as she observed the group. "With just a cursory glance, it looks like they're picking it up quickly, Miss Az'Prel. If you are ready, we can call them to attention and move on as you see fit."

“Looking good, people. Okay, Lieutenant Dox and Miss Az’Prel are going to show you a few more moves, let’s watch and learn, folks.” Paris clapped her hands to draw attention and set up a beat, a primal element of communication.

As the Vulcan faced off with her Romulan sparring partner, she thought for a moment, then went through a flowing rolling move that seemed to pull Dox head over heels and do a 180 with her and swapped places in the process. Returning to her feet, she helped her sparring partner back up as well. "This move is useful against armed and unarmed opponents when you can get a grip on their elbow. It is also useful against those with riot shielding."

Az'Prel then motioned to Dox. "Now you."

Quickly, Dox repeated the maneuver fluidly and efficiently, flipping Az'Prel to the mat. Her own training making the transition fairly easy.

As she helped the weathered Vulcan soldier to her feet, she spoke to the room. "Okay, everyone. Now we're going to go through that slowly, step by step for you. Pay close attention to hand placement, where you plant your feet in regards to your center of gravity and the overall motion."

Then Dox moved slowly, planting her weight as Az'Prel had shown her, and setting up the maneuver one step at a time for everyone to see before stepping back and taking a light bow, deferring to Az'Prel.

The Vulcan woman bowed as well, her hands spread apart. "You are very skilled. You would be able to master Kun-Laou quickly."

Smiling slightly, Dox replied simply. "Thank you. I will work to live up to that estimation."

Then the two women squared off again, with Az'Prel showcasing an increasingly difficult series of moves on her Romulan sparing partner. And as before, Dox would repeat the move then show a slowed down, step by step process to the assemblage.

Moving amongst the crowd, Paris noticed pairs and triads of groups, all paying attention, some trying something they had just seen. It surprised her how attentive they all were, how quickly they were picking up on the training, emulating and incorporating the maneuvers. While she had drilled military discipline and etiquette into her security force, she still expected them to be sentient life, which in her head she still provincially referred to it as only human. But that was speciesist, so she had to change how she said it. But not how she thought it, because for her, it was still the human adventure.

The goddess Hera attracted Amazons. They were the guardians of her temples, and wherever she parked her rear, they came to serve. Three decks up across the starship, the goddess paused in her reading to look down and shrug slightly.

After a while, the demonstration shifted to allow the security officers to take to the mats and pair off to practice the techniques show, as Az'Prel and Dox walked among the students, correcting techniques and instructing where needed. But it was clear after a few minutes that the dimensionally displaced Vulcan was getting a more comfortable grip on teaching as Dox left her to the students and walked back over to where Rita was watching.

"She's exceptionally good, Commander. She was moving at probably half speed for most of the demonstration, and probably applying even less of her natural strength. But she seems to be getting into the rhythm in instructing them as well." Dox spoke to her XO while the pair watched.

“Good. It hadn’t dawned on me that she’s never instructed a group… I would have thought that might have come up when I suggested it to her, but that’s on me for not anticipating,” Paris replied, speaking quietly where only sensitive ears nearby could hear. “I’m tempted to let one of the more aggressive security officers have a go at her, because I know they're dying to try. But I think I should take advantage of the opportunity.”

Standing where she was, Paris asked, "Miss Az'Prel?"

The sensitive ears of the freedom fighter picked up the distinctive sound of her name being spoken, and made eye contact. Paris motioned with her eyes to the ring, with a questioning raise of her eyebrows.

The displaced Vulcan moved over to the indicated ring, suddenly on high alert. She didn't expect a sneak attack or betrayal, but it seemed she was perhaps to earn their trust and prove her skills to them in some fashion.

Stepping into the ring, Paris took a look around, and sure enough, all eyes were on this. Since taking command of Security, Commander Paris had not sparred with anyone. She was command, and apparently, they didn't have to train like the mere mortals. This theory was not uncommon in the fleet, and many of the Security personnel were fresh out of Security training at Starfleet Academy, so there was an assumption that this was how it worked. There was some scuttlebutt about it- but then, there tended to be a lot of rumors and gossip onboard the USS Hera, and a lot of them about their anachronistically attired executive officer.

Time for a little trust exercise.

"I took judo in the Academy... we all did, right?" There was a chuckle in the crowd, because judo was the least of most of their skills. Muttering under her breath where only the most sensitive of ears could hear, Rita added, "I know precious little more than that."

"I've got good legs," Paris added, to an enthusiastic 'Yeah ya do!' in the crowd, to which she nodded graciously. "I run darn near every day, so a lot of my strength is in my legs. I prefer to use my legs because I prefer keeping my foes at a distance, and using my stronger muscle groups. So. Miss Az'Prel. As an aficionado of the kick, what are some techniques that you might recommend?

The displaced Vulcan woman bowed before her next sparring partner before explaining her next sequence so everyone could hear her. "For that, I recommend an ancient tribal Denobulan fighting style that was once used ceremoniously. About half of the moves use the hands to pivot off of rather than the feet, but it maximizes the lower body strength with each strike. With it, I've been able to bash my way through sealed doors. For now, how about we start with the more basic takedowns as that would be the more logically useful approach for those assembled."

She then showed off a series of spinning kicks, several of which changed directions with the assistance of one or two hands on the mat. "These are difficult to show at slower speeds, Commander. Please use care and strike me as fast and hard as you are able."

The expression of the commander was consternation, but she'd been paying attention. While her kick lacked the precision or surety of Az'Prel's she still whipped out the kick. As it struck the Vulcan's block, she nodded, encouraging, and the miniskirted commander tried one of the more aggressive kicks she'd been shown, or at least a mediocre representation of it.

Az'Prel nodded, keeping her guard up so she could keep blocking. "Acceptably executed, especially for your first time. Aim higher and further back."

Following through, Paris listened and adjusted her style as murmurs went through the crowd. It was clear to her squad, the Commander wasn't much in hand to hand. But she was working on it, right here, right now. Pausing, Paris withdrew her leg and held it up, at the ready.

"Show me a combo?" Paris asked earnestly. "Something the team will appreciate?"

Az'Prel nodded and thought for a moment, bouncing from one foot to the other. She then flipped over onto her hands and delivered six quick rabbit kicks to Rita's mid to upper body in quick succession before delivering a quick upward spinning kick that broke through her defenses and barely missed the buxom blonde's face.

Bursting out laughing, Paris shook her head with a smile on her face. "And that officially counts as out of my league. All right people, break into groups, and if you are going to practice that spinning windmill dyke strike, watch for concussions? Safety, people. All right, aroo!"

"Aroo!" the room answered her, the enthusiasm of which surprised Paris a bit. Here's to military training...

Approaching Az'Prel, Paris offered a bow. "Thanks for that... I've not taken to the ring to teach them because they know more than me. I can teach them tactics and weaponry and discipline and honor, but this... is not my passion, and not my gift. So I appreciate you sharing it with the security force. They are the brave defenders in time of trouble for this crew, and they have a high standard to uphold. They're good people, and I appreciate you helping them grow."

Watching from the side, a smile was stretched across Mnhei'sahe's face. Over the past few weeks, she had been meeting with Rita in private to help her work on her fighting skills in the holodeck and she was abundantly aware of how difficult it was for her friend to step into that ring and show her lack of skill in front of the entire security team. But in that moment, she found her role as the learner to Paris' master somewhat reversed as she felt a swelling of happiness and even a little pride for Rita's accomplishment here.

The Vulcan woman bowed back, her hands spread out to her sides. "I live to serve. I honestly did not imagine there would be so many warriors... Security... Personnel aboard this vessel. It must be much larger than I estimated. I also did not expect them to be so well trained. This universe has seemed very... Plush... Compared to mine. I will have to readjust my expectations."

"There are, to be fair, kind of an unlimited amount of creature comforts. But we do have violence here, and there is trouble. We prefer to solve it with an open hand, discussion and compromise. The universe doesn't always give us a choice in the matter, however. And these officers are also trained to combat disasters- fires, search and rescue, evacuation. They are the good guys who make sure that our scientists and engineers and diplomats can work without fear. because Security is watching over them."

"Starfleet is idealistic, Miss Az'Prel. But we're not naive. When reason fails, sometimes force must prevail. We do not make that choice ourselves, but if it is thrust upon us, we do not shrink from it. Does that make sense?" the extradimensional explorer from long ago hoped she was getting through to her contemporary from beyond the mirror.

"It does," Az'Prel replied. "It is the exact opposite of what the Terran Empire's philosophy is so it is easy enough to understand. They would use overwhelming force, kill almost everything, then try to ask a few questions afterwards. The route of the diplomat is one that is uncommon, but not unheard of."

"I was also thinking..." the Vulcan woman continued. "With my skills of infiltration, if you ever have a covert operations mission, once I am more familiar with your ways, I may be useful to you as an infiltration operative. During my time as a slave, I was able to carry out several covert assignments including, but not limited to, data retrieval and assisted escapes."

"We may just have something in mind for you, Miss Az'Prel, now that you mention it," Paris replied with a knowing nod. "How's your Romulan...?"

The Vulcan woman straightened herself visibly, her hands still at her sides, unlike other Vulcans of this universe. "Currently poor... But if it is required, I will be fluent within three days."

"If you would be so kind, Miss Az'Prel, please do so." It would be an impressive feat for someone to gain a linguistic skill in only a few days, but the refugee from beyond space and time had survived in a universe determined to stamp out her existence. When she made the claim, Paris, as another survivor of extreme circumstances, was prone to believe her. "The Captain and I will brief you later today, but I think you're the woman for this job.

"I will be ready at your call, Commander. I live to serve." With a bow, the Vulcan woman spread her open hands out to her sides. When she straightened, she headed for the door without another word.

"Miss Az'Prel? One more thing?" Paris called after the Vulcan woman.

Az'Prel immediately paused and turned back, her full attention once more on the curvaceous Commander. "Yes, Commander?"

When she spoke, the lost navigator kept her voice down, where only sensitive ears could hear it. "The locals say it a bit differently, and it has a subtle yet distinctive difference. I'd prefer it if you did not 'live to serve', Miss Az'Prel. The locals say it as 'I come to serve'- perhaps you might consider trying it out. You are in service to no one- you are free. You choose to help, but you are not obligated to do so. A little reminder that you have come a very long way, and that where you were is not where you are. Something to consider, if you will?"

Through it all, Paris kept her tone soft and her eyes on the Vulcan woman's eyes, which had seen and survived so much, yet even having found herself in a relative paradise, would always bear a hint of suspicion, of trepidation in looking for the familiar world of violence and oppression she had known her entire life. Earning her trust would be a gradual thing, and it required consistency and patience. But Rita was willing to do her best- and this example was a small but important moment of distinction to her mind.

The Vulcan woman's eyes drifted towards the floor as she mumbled the new words to herself several times. "I should stop bowing as a servant would as well, then. I come to serve... And I hope to meet your expectations... But I am free to find my own way." With that, both of her eyebrows raised in realization of just how different things were in this universe on a very basic level.

Looking back up at Rita, she nodded politely. "Thank you. I will take this lesson to heart."

"I know you will, Miss Az'Prel," Paris offered with a light pat on the shoulder. "Infinite diversity in infinite combinations, eh?"

Az'Prel nodded sagely. "I believe the multiverse has proven that to both of us in due measure."

The training exercise in the Deck 11 gymnasium had gone well. The U.S.S. Hera's newest resident, the refuge freedom fighter from a nightmarish mirror reality, Az'Prel, had risen to the challenge to begin teaching some of her combat skills to the ships security team.

It was a request made by the ships XO, Commander Rita Paris and in that request, Paris had asked Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox to participate and observe the battle-hardened Vulcan woman in action. A few months prior, Paris had put Dox in the same situation, asking the young Romulan pilot to instruct the security officers in the Romulan martial art of Llaekh-ae'rl, which Dox was adept at.

At the conclusion of the day's exercise, Dox found herself curious about the ships newest resident and extended an offer to meet after class at the Deck 11 lounge for tea. Dox had only had the most minor of interactions with Az'Prel, but wanted to see how the transplanted woman was adjusting to such a dramatically different life. Arriving first, Dox was happy to see the small lounge was empty. A few small tables and chairs and a replication station along one wall, a row of windows looking out into the void of space and the two women would be all that Az'Prel would need to worry about.

Walking over to the replicator, Dox ordered herself a cup of Romulan coffee, black. The bitter, strong concoction was an acquired taste, but one the young woman enjoyed. Walking over to a small table near the windows, she sat down to look out into the expanse of space she so loved and waited.

As for the Vulcan woman, though she had not worked up a sweat, she was mentally fatigued from teaching so many and decided to go with a relaxing spiced tea and a small plate of honeyed saffir. Joining her Romulan comrade, she stretched her neck and back as she undid the top snaps of her padded armor, popping several joints in the process. "Thank you for inviting me."

Smiling lightly, Dox was generally nervous with most kinds of social interaction but was committed to making an effort to reach out. "You're welcome."

Taking a sip of her coffee, Dox continued. "We only really spoke briefly when you came on board, and I thought that since we spent a little time throwing each other around the gym today, some downtime might be in order."

"Indeed," Az'Prel sipped at her tea before continuing. "You picked up the lessons well today and I believe you would have much you could teach me as well. However... I know this vessel is large, but just how large is it? And how many crew are aboard?"

"Thank you. I would be glad to continue whenever you'd like. There's always more to learn and my own skills tend to lean towards the more... extreme, so more options in a combat scenario would be... welcome." Dox was slightly uncomfortable talking about her own training but pushed past it to answer Az'Prel's question.

"The Hera is a modified Nebula-class Starship. She's got 42 decks with the pod, is about 440 meters long, 460 meters wide, and carries a crew of about 750 at any given time. She's big, but she's home."

The Vulcan woman stared for a moment, trying to take it all in. "That is far larger than anything even the Terran Empire is rumored to have built in my time and universe. It will take some time to get used to the sheer scale of everything in this universe and time as well, it seems."

"When I need to think or relax, I like to just wander the ship. It's a good way to get to know her." Dox looked out the window as she spoke. "I also have holodeck programs that replicate what it would be like to walk on her hull without needing a spacesuit. That's a great way to see her in all her glory. Commander Paris and I go jogging on the hull that way once a week. It's really beautiful, and more fun than going out there for real."

Dox chuckled awkwardly as her mind drifted to her unsuited spacewalk from a few moments ago that almost killed her. "You're always welcome to join us, of course."

"That may be a wise course of action to better acclimate myself. However, I do not wish to intrude." As the Vulcan woman spoke, she poked at her saffir and nibbled on a bite.

"No intrusion at all." Dox sighed slightly, picking up on a very familiar concern. "I can say from personal experience... that the people on this ship will offer many helping hands... and it took me a while to learn that they meant it sincerely. My own... experience didn't prepare me for people that really wanted to help me. But that's the Hera."

Chucking slightly, Dox took another sip. "Honestly, I still second guess if I'm imposing too much half the time. But that's just my default setting."

Az'Prel sipped at her tea calmly. "Then I will avail myself of your offer as well as the other six invitations I received that the computer notified me of this morning."

"Excellent. I look forward to it." Dox took a sip of her Coffee. "I thought the class went well today. I hope you didn't mind my interjecting. Commander Paris had me do the same a couple of months ago and I was a nervous wreck. I'd never tried teaching anyone anything, much less a class of security officers."

"Indeed, though I have instructed before, it was a group of three. This was slightly more overwhelming than I had anticipated." The Vulcan woman took another bite of her saffir and chewed thoughtfully. "I was invited to train for something called a tribunal. Are you familiar with this term?"

Leaning in slightly more, this situation wasn't a surprise to Dox. Az'Prel was a freedom fighter in her native reality and some degree of involvement in the Tribunal was a natural fit for her skills. "Unfortunately, yes. Captain Telvan, beyond being a Starfleet Captain, is also the heiress to a family run fleet of Privateers. Basically, Pirates that hunt slaver pirates. The Artan family."

Crossing her hands in front of her, the anxious young Romulan continued, "Captain Telvan is the princess. Her mother is the queen and is demanding that Enalia provide her with a granddaughter to raise to rule the family since the Captain has resisted that position herself. Either generated the old fashioned way or simply by giving up a DNA sample, regardless of if she wants to or not. I... have more than a few problems with that myself."

"We also have reason to believe the queen is conspiring with the Orion Slave Syndicate to wrest control from the Captain, who has called a tribunal to try and decide who will have ultimate control of the family. The vote will come down to the Baronesses of the family, of which I am one. We will be standing behind the Captain, but it's likely the tribunal will fail which will lead to conflict and a duel between the two. Still, proof of that conspiring might tip the balance in the Captains favor and negate the need for an actual armed conflict. At least that's the hope. Working WITH slavers is pretty much the one unbreakable rule the Artan family has." Dox did her best to summarize the outrageous circumstances for Az'Prel.

"One of the Baronesses that is on the fence is a Romulan as well. Baroness Sienae Nei'rrh. She and her crew are all former refugees of the Romulan Star Empire. When I was young, my Mother and I were... smugglers." Dox admitted with a hint of hesitation, not wanting to go into too many personal details, but feeling oddly comfortable talking to the Vulcan woman. "We primarily worked to free other Romulans from the grip of the empire and worked towards the goal of reunification with Vulcan. It was a cause my mother was extremely committed to. She still is, really. As such, the Captain is hoping my Mother and I may be able to sway this swing vote to her favor."

The displaced Vulcan woman steepled her fingers in front of her in contemplation as she absorbed what she had been told. "This explains much about your Captain and you and the way you carry yourselves. Of all the people I have met in this reality, she is the only one constantly guarded and you both have the eyes of survivors."

"I will accept this invitation. I have been on the receiving end of a slaver's agony stick and I would do my best to spare that pain to anyone in this universe if I am able." A dark shadow passed over her eyes for a moment as those memories passed through her mind, but she quickly recomposed herself. "If your Captain has need of me in this, I live to serve."

"I will convey this to the Captain. I know we're going to need all the help we can get, and this won't be a Starfleet operation. And as it stands, it could easily end mine and a few other careers, but it's a risk I'm willing to take for the Captain." Dox's tone was a somber one as she thought of all the possible ramifications of what was to come.

After a moment's pause, the young Romulan woman looked up at the Vulcan refugee. "I don't wish, to pry... or dredge up things you'd rather not think about, but may I ask you a question... about the universe you hailed from?"

The Vulcan woman sipped at her tea and motioned for Dox to proceed. "Please... Feel free. It may help instruct or enlighten you and your response may do so in turn for me."

"Thank you... I..." Dox paused again for a slight moment. "When you first came on board, in describing your reality, you mentioned the Terran Empire and the Romulans in the same breath. Were the Romulans a... tyrannical empire in your reality?

Az'Prel set her now empty teacup aside. "No, in 2160 Remus was destroyed and Romulus became a colony world of the Terran Empire. There are... Were very few Romulans in my time. In fact, the few I met, many were half Vulcan and followed the path of logic."

Sighing slightly at the information, Dox seemed as if the slightest of weights were lifted. "That's... Oddly comforting. It the reality Commander Paris comes from, Romulans destroyed Vulcan. Killed the entire planet and tried doing so to half the Federation. When I thought... Well... for a time I thought that there wasn't a reality in all of existence where I didn't hail from a race of tyrants."

The young red-headed Romulan fidgeted with her empty mug. "It's almost a relief in a strange way. Which I know probably sounds very selfish of me."

A strange sound like a half chuckle came from Az'Prel. "I felt the same way when I came here and found out that Vulcans here are all emotionless and logical. To think that the way of life that I had to hide my entire life is the default state in this universe... It is refreshing... My habits and methods may differ, but at our core, we are the same. I think the same may be for you. The Romulans of my universe were those of truth and heart, ready to sacrifice much for others and the greater good."

"Heh..." Dox laughed awkwardly. "Yeah, that sounds like the exact opposite of Romulans here. It's a big part of why my Mother and I worked towards reunification. Trying to embrace Vulcan philosophy and culture seemed like the only way to save what our people have become. Hasn't quite worked out all that well, unfortunately. The movement is all but dead these days. And obviously, logic and me never quite clicked."

"Perhaps the Romulans of this Universe were never meant to follow the tenets of logic either. Perhaps in the quest for reunification, you should have aimed for a less destructive and open form of emotions, rather than a route to logic." Az'Prel offered. "To become the Republic that the Romulans of my universe tried to become."

Standing back up, Dox grabbed her mug. "Would you like a refill? And you're probably right. But at this point, it's been what it is for so long that I'm afraid it's just doomed to that path. I can at least be happy that we got as many people that wanted peace out as we did."

"Yes please," Az'Prel replied, accepting the offer of a refill. "Spice tea. The completion of a job is reward enough in most cases. If you have brought peace to others, then it is doubly so."

Walking over to the replicator, Dox ordered up the drinks and returned to the table, placing Az'Prel's tea in front of her before sitting back down. "So... on that note... you are in a unique position now. As I understand it this is the first time you've been free to make choices about what it is you want to do with your life and I can only imagine how overwhelming that must be."

The young Romulan woman asked, with a hint of concern in her voice. "Service to others... to a cause... Is admirable and can be extremely fulfilling to be sure. But have you thought about what it is you want to do with your life?"

The Vulcan woman lifted her cup to savor the smell and thought about it a moment. "I want to..." Then she just said the first thing that came to mind. "... Help people be free..." She then nodded and sipped her tea.

"That's a good thing," Dox replied. "And there's always a need, to be sure. Just know that if all you wanted to do was go to Vulcan, go to Mount Selaya and meditate for the rest of your life, that's also an option that's open to you. Sonak has offered to take me there, introduce me to the elders. He would do the same for you for sure. All of these options are yours to consider."

The displaced Vulcan woman nodded at the advice. "I do seem to have a lot more life expectancy ahead of me now. I should have plenty of time for that and more. For now, I will travel with this crew and find my way to see how I may best help people be free. Once I am more familiar with the ways of this universe, I will wish to see more of it."

Smiling slightly, Dox took a sip of her coffee. "Well, the prophets brought you to the right place, then. And I can say that we're glad to have you."

The main flight deck of the U.S.S. Hera was bustling with activity as usual, but it was somewhat quieter up on Deck 3, where research and development occurred.

Today, while most of the flight crew was busy elsewhere, there was only one crewmember to be found. In the center of the deck stood the experimental, Variable mode flight rig colloquially referred to as the 'Thunderchicken'. The shining, black vehicle crouched low to the deck on it's two mechanical legs while an officer in gold lay on her back muttering to herself. Hands buried deep into the undercarriage was engineering assistant, Ensign Briaar Gavarus.

Gavarus was a fairly young Tellarite woman. Her long, thick, curly hair was tied back in a ponytail leaving it to stick up over the top of her head like a pale, blond puffball. Like all Tellarite's, she was thickly built with much of her weight resting in her stomach and chest. Her long, cloven hooved feet stretched out from the bottom of the craft and made a rhythmic clinking against the deck as she tapped repeatedly as she worked.

"DAMN IT!" She muttered, her voice was slightly gravely and nasal, owing it's timbre to the pig-like snout of the species. "This coupling is not rated to carry this much... COMPUTER!"

The computer responded with a chirp.

"Computer, I put in a request for a pilot to test the requested modifications. Where are they?" Looking over at her toolkit and the PaDD resting upright against it, she continued to complain out loud. "They were supposed to be here... ugh... okay, I asked two minutes ago, but STILL!"

=^= Ensign O’Dell is en route as requested. ETA To current location in 22 seconds. =^=

It was actually more like a full minute before the sprightly little redhead appeared, the crimson uniform clean if a bit rumpled, and she approached with the slow and leisurely pace of someone who had all the time in the world to get where she was going.

“Well ain’t this here a contraption anna half?” she whistled as she approached, her pace slow and casual, her hands on her hips. Petite, precisely 1.51 meters tall, the wiry-haired redhead had her hair down and loose in kinky taut curls that made her look somewhat leonine, while her slender figure combined with her diminutive stature made her look somewhat childlike. But she was a Starfleet officer, and rated for flight, so she’d been tapped to work with the engineer assigned to work on this particular problem.

“Ye called, so what kin ah doo fer ye, spanner jockey?” the elfin officer chirped cheerfully. "Ye rang for a pilot, aye?"

From underneath the Thunderchicken, Ensign Gavarus moaned audibly as she rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. "Oh gods, what fresh hell is this?

With a grunt, the thick built woman pulled herself out and rose to her feet. Extremely tall for a Tellerite, Briaar was easily close to two meters and looked over the incoming pilot as she wiped her hands off on a rag, taking the perky pixie in.

"Yes, I suppose I'm Ensign 'Spanner Jockey'. And that would make you, who? Ensign... what were those called... Leprechaun?" Tellarite's were, by their nature, argumentative. But Briaar had the hint of a smile curving up the edges of her thick, porcine jowls.

The smile that spread across the face of the petite pilot threatened to become bigger than her face, and the small nose with the spread of freckles across it wrinkled as she did so. “Aye! That’s me call sign, how’d ye know? Good laird, isn’t the air a bit thin oop there, lassie? Seems criminal to be makin’ ye get into tight places!”

"It wasn't excessively difficult to deduce, Ensign O'Dell." The porcine Engineer picked up her PaDD and began scrolling through the Thunderchicken specs with her thick, three fingered hands.

"The shop provides ample oxygen and I like burying my head in engines. Engines don't talk," she smirked.

“Aye, but then it’s a wee bit harrd to have a constrooctive conversation, now ennit? So what kin Ah do fer ye, Ensign? Guessin' this wee birdie needs to move aboot so ye kin test the structural stressors or somesuch, or do we need to see how she hoovers off the deck, or did ye have something more oot a the ordinary in mind?” Moving over to start running her fingers over the sleek hull, the pilot began speaking to the experimental vehicle. “Ain’t you the unusual duck, aye? Nivvir ye mind, we’ll git yuir bugs worked out in a jiffy, Thunderchicken.”

Ensign Gavarus jiggled the badge on her breast and curled her lips. "I think the universal translator needs to be taught Terran accents. But, if I am interpreting you correctly, yes. I need a pilot for systems checks. The flight mode is working perfectly, but this..."

The Blonde engineer looked at her PaDD as she spoke, "This... 'gerwalk' mode has been having difficulty adjusting after transformation. Each mode has it's own configuration of how the gyros interact with the servos so I've been adjusting the..."

Pausing mid-exposition, Briaar smirked down at the impossibly perky pilot. "Oh wait, you're a pilot. It needs walkies so it won't fall down."

“Ach! I’m nae an Earthling, I’m a Mariposian! First generation since the Bringloidians came, proud and hearty though they were, and our people moved hand in hand inta the future! Joost because ye dinna ken what I’m sayin dinna think yuir gon’ta git one o’er me, aye?” If anything, when speaking of her homeworld, the pipsqueak pilot’s accent intensified.

“Soo what yuir sayin’ is our great fighter fowl here canna seem to make the transition smoothly twixt alternate modes,” the freckle-faced fighter jockey pouted for a second, tapping her lower lip. “Have ye tried installin’ a variable gearbox, so’s the torque is redistributed betwixt modes? I canna imagine when she’s in fighter mode she’s usin near the same ration as when she’s stompin aboot, aye? Mayhaps with an automatic transmission fur sooch a thing?”

The thick, pig-like jowls might have obscured it, but Briaar was now smiling as broadly as was possible for her as the thick-accented Mariposian had finally fired back at her jabs a little. O'Dell gave as good as she got and Tellarites were notorious for withholding respect unless whom they were talking to could keep up with their argumentative nature. So now, Ensign Gavarus was significantly more comfortable talking shop with the pixie pilot. "Ensign Gonadie had that covered when she built this bizarre but impressive contraption, but the alignment keeps slipping after transformation. I've re-tightened the gears and put some scanning sensors in place, but I needed a pilot to run the ship through both modes and walk it around so I can get a measure for when, where and how the transmission is slipping."

With a little bit of unveiled excitement, raising her eyebrows playfully, Briaar smirked. "So, feel like taking it for a walk, Leprechaun?"

“Waahhhhhhl, if there’s inny room ta move’eh aboot wi yuir gigantic self taking oop half the flight deck, Leviathan,” the pixie pilot grinned as she scrambled lightly up the legs of the stationary mech, then opened the canopy to literally roll into the cockpit. “Hey, ye got a technical manual I could sit on? Nae, hold on, I found the seat adjustment controls…”

Within a few seconds, the eager ensign was warming up the craft, for which apparently no briefing was required. The flight engineer who had designed the system had done so with a standard Federation configuration, and as the controls came online the pilot activated the external speakers.

“There’s a whole lot of vehicle in here… this thing is going ta be fun ta fly!” O’Dell proclaimed, lifting first one foot then the other, then pivoting this way and that at the ‘waist’. “Alreet, yuir the one what needs to study. Ye want a walk, a trot or a gallop oot of her?”

Looking down at her PaDD, Ensign Gavarus held one thick finger up and directed it forward in a sweeping motion, gesturing a basic 'route' for the pilot to take. "All three, in that sequence. A few seconds of each so I can get proper sensor feedback." Then she held up her three-fingered hand up and waved it. "Three".

"Computer..." Ensign Gavarus spoke up to the room. "Institute scanning prep for crash prevention force fielding." With a chirp, the computer confirmed the order.

"There, that way I don't have to throw you to the bird of prey if you scratch the paint on her new toy." Stepping back behind the painted yellow lines on the floor for safety, Gavarus continued. "One foot in front of the other. The floor is yours. Show me how you dance."

"Yuir too tall ta dance wi'me, I'd be lookin at yuir belt buckle," the Mariposian merrymaker remarked as she tested out the controls.

There were a few halting steps as the diminutive dame felt out the controls, and at one point she teetered a bit more than Gavarus would have liked, but quickly righted herself. Once she had taken a few moments walking and completed a lap of the upper flight deck, O’Dell moved up into a trot, the lightweight vehicle clanking as it moved, but the ‘footfalls’ were not seismic nor thunderous, as the craft was composed primarily of lightweight materials. Slowing to a walk again, she then took off in a run, having felt out the controls sufficiently- or so she thought. Coming around the turn in the ‘track’, the pipsqueak pilot misjudged her turning radius, and fairly plowed into the bulkhead.

Or at least she would have, if not for the forcefield that sprang up to cushion the impact.

Backing off- literally walking the mech backward, which she did slowly and cautiously- the red-faced and embarrassed pilot clanked back over to the mechanic.

“Ach! Now THAT was embarrasin' by half. First test flight and I try to run her inta the storage locker. Thanks for the save, aye? Ye get yuir readings?”

Standing at a safe distance, Gavarus snorted out a deep belly laugh. "Oh, I am SO happy I was recording that little jig. But yes, I got my readings."

"Everything reads in the clear, so let's run it through the transformation sequence." The tall engineering assistant tapped a hoof on the deck as she spoke in a rhythmic as she thought.

“Aye, cuz these big chicken feet are goin’ ta trip me up fuir sure if I try to show ye a proper jig!” the brogue-bearing babe shot back, before activating the controls to transform the walker mode into full robot mode. Moving the arms experimentally, the construct moved with fluidity as the pilot shifted the weight from one foot to the other. Dropping down into a squat, she moved into a kneeling position, then a plank, then did a push-up before righting the mech, moving back to its knees, then back upright again. Raining her arms up in triumph, the miniature mech pilot shouted in triumph, “Woohooo! Ye want me to take her to vehicle mode now?”

The expression on the Tellarite's wrinkled brow shifted slightly as she was into deep thought looking at the numbers coming across her PaDD. "Absolutely. I have all the data I need from your little squat thrust there."

As she spoke, Gavarus changed the subject slightly. "So, what's a Mariposian, because you seem fairly human and extremely Irish to me."

"Wahhhhhl, we're basically human with minor variance for diet, climate and alla that," the little firecracker explained as the cockpit leveled out and sank down onto the hip joint. From there, the forward landing skid extended and the arms folded back into the rear compartment as the legs folded back into being the forward and aft atmospheric maneuvering wings. "Me people were from neighboring Earth colonies. The Mariposians embraced technology and social advancement, while the Bringloidians chose to be simple agrarian folk, and keep the simple old ways alive."

"So old satellites in orbit around Bringloidi warned Starfleet when solar flares were goin' ta wipe oot the colony, so the Enterprise saved alla the colonists, who were baaasically livin like hobos. The Mariposians had lost most of their colonists landing on the planet but kept their people alive through cloning- right?" The vehicular mode lifted off the deck by two meters, then the pilot they called Leprechaun began testing the clearances, pointing the nose down and the tail of the craft up, to insure they were not contacting the deck or the overhead. Once she had the craft properly aligned, the perky pilot started the craft to spinning- going nowhere, but spinning and jerking about for the engineer to take stress tests.

Her story continued unabated, though with the craft rotating and altering vectors as it was, the sound was coming with a bit of an echo.

"Aaaaanywee, the Mariposians had built a small but advanced civilization, boot they had hit a genetic dead end, and people were staartin ta turn out weird more often than not. So they were happy for a shot in the arm from their refugee neighbors, and the Bringloidians were happy for life in an amazing world of the comfort and leisure. As we all live on Mariposa, we're all Mariposians noow. I'm one 'a the first generations born between our cultures." The spinning and jerking slowed down as she brought it back gently,. then she slammed the craft perpendicular to the deck. The craft wobbled a bit and her angle to the deck was off, but it was a very sudden halt that was moderately impressive as a conclusion to the stunt flying she'd been doing.

Turning the nose of the craft to the engineer, Ensign O'Dell canted the rear end of the Thunderchicken up to make the vehicle appear to be looking up at the large porcine grease monkey. "First O'Dell in Starfleet, that's fer sure."

"Well, I did ask, didn't I? Though I should have predicted the verbosity." The towering Tellarite looked up at O'Dell in the cockpit as she spoke, watching the craft hover with the critical eye of an engineer. "Looks like the aft, port thruster is overcompensating. I'll have to look at that as well, because of course I will. Anyway, anytime you'd like to, you can land it in Gerwalk mode."

With her mind half buried in the readings she was getting, Gavarus was somewhat less acerbic for the moment.

Unfolding the canopy from the main body as the arms unfolded and wings came together to become the legs, O'Dell moved the arms about experimentally. "There's be big goons mounted on the arms like this, aye? I like this one... for urban warfare 'twould would be a dream. Too bad she dinna have throosters in the feet in this mode, that'd make maneuvering a bit more interestin'. Boot she's got antigrav, so why waste fuel, aye?"

The ebullient ensign took a few experimental crabwalk steps sideways, then back the other way, getting the hang of the gyros and the inertial dampeners. Raising one foot up in a slow kick, she held the servos and maintained the balance, then set herself to right again, Repeating the stunt with the other leg, she started sweeping to the sides with the arms as she sidestepped, then reversed the direction, sweeping back the other way and the wee wonder managed to somewhat make the mech dance.

"This is as good a jig as yuir goin' ta get, ye great hobgoblin, boot aye, she'll line dance at least!" Pausing at the end of a sweep she worked in the kick, still none too fast, but the mech was pulling it off all the same.

"Excellent. According to my scans, the servos are slipping out of alignment strictly on the conversion from flight mode, but it should be a simple enough fix." Gavarus put her PaDD on a nearby workbench and folded her arms behind her back.

"Will you be needing a stepladder to get down? I believe the ships new pre-schools have little ones with flower stickers on them so the children will be able to reach the sink."

"Ohhh, yuir a bluiddy riot, you are. Ye sure ye want ta be givin me lip right now? I'm bigger than ye!" With that, the mech swung its arms up in an old-school pugilist style, and to her credit O'Dell managed to get them rotating a bit to simulate fisticuffs. It was a credit to Ensign Gonadie's design as well as the pilot's skill that she was adapting so quickly to the unique mecha.

Watching the display, Gavarus smirked and let out another snort of a laugh as she picked her PaDD back up and waved it at O'Dell. "And I still have the 'off' switch. Besides, you can't fight me unless I try and steal your pot of gold, right?"

Behind her snark, the Tellarite engineer was seriously impressed with how quickly O'Dell managed to get the hang of controlling the Thunderchicken. And she was doubly impressed with how the red-headed spitfire had a comeback for every barb she had thrown out.

"Pfft! At yuir size me pot of gold would be more like a thimble," the wee wayfarer manipulated the robotic fingers to simulate a small amount. For her part, she was impressed at how the control linkages mirrored her own body's actions and translated them to the mecha, as well as how stable the inertial dampeners and internal gyros compensated for her antics.

"Got to say, I'm for sure glad ye called me for this. I dinna ken I'll be on the short list of pilots when the chiefs get approved to go into production, but she's a blast to drive. Loove ta take her oot for a test drive, but 'tisn't what we're working on today, I know, But this," O'Dell spread her hands wide as the gerwalk mode mecha did the same, "This is a lot o' fun!"

"Well, I simply asked the computer for an available and competent pilot. So you can thank the computer for your assignment today." Briaar commented somewhat dryly, tryin to cover up that she too was enjoying herself.

"I'll need to prepare a report for Ensign Gonadie of our findings along with my suggestions. But I think perhaps a variable gear box might be a solid solution." The engineer smiled slightly as she added the pilots suggestion to her report.

The mecha raised both it's arms in triumph, as the compact cheerleader in the cockpit simulated the sound of a crowd going wild.

"Ye kin call me if ye need me, ya overstuffed ogre. I'll be yuir wingman innytime!" she chirped cheerfully as she transformed the robotic walker back to vehicle mode. Opening the canopy, O'Dell took the time to disengage the hand and feet linkages that enabled the fine control she had been demonstrating, then set the seat back so that a human in an EVA suit could fit into it again before scrambling out and hitting the flight deck again with a cheerful and mischievous grin.

"What d'ye say? File yuir reports and we kin goo git a nice wee drink in 10-For'rd, aye?" The sprightly starfighter pilot rather liked the grouchy mechanic, and saw no reason not to befriend her. After all, pilots were nothing without the machines they flew, and the people on the ground kept them in the air. Since the dawn of powered flight that relationship had existed, and Ensign Fiona O'Dell understood that relationship quite well.

"Well, you're obnoxiously perky, but interesting enough. And besides, the bartenders in Ten-Forward can't stand me, which is reason enough to go, as far as I'm concerned." In truth, Ensign Briaar Gavarus found she quite liked the perky pilot who gave as good as she got and always had a come back and a smile. Most other races didn't quite understand how Tellarite's interacted, but the diminutive Mariposian seemed to understand the unspoken language, which was refreshing.

And, In truth, it just sounded like fun. So the sarcastic engineer filed her report, shut down the external systems and put her PaDD away and smirked down at the red-head.

"So, let us inflict ourselves upon the unknowing populous, Leprechaun."

"First round's on ye, Leviathan!"

Following their duty stink on the upper flight deck, the unlikely duo of engineer and pilot had made their way down to the common area lounge, where the pint-sized pilot insisted that they sit at the bar. A shorter stool was available for the rather large Tellurite, and a high chair was located for the rather short Mariposian. When they were both settled in, the bartender asked for their order.

"Scotch whiskey, single malt if ye have it, neat, two fingers, your'n, not mine, but not hers neither, aye?" the chirpy little officer ordered, chucking a thumb at the thick-fingered flight engineer. "What'll ye have, yeh great spalleen?"

Tilting her thick jowled face at the diminutive pilot, the pig snouted engineer had a flat expression. "Scotch? What a surprise. Behold, my 'surprised' face."

Ensign Gavarus turned back towards the bartender. "You know what I like. Vodka on ice." She dismissively waved the bartender away with her thick, three fingered hand.

"Whaaaat? I'm supposed ta drink some girly foo-foo cocktail? I'd be laughed oota the pub," The petite pilot took her tumbler of scotch delivered before her and began waving it about like a conductor's baton as she spoke. "Besoides, if I ordered somethin else people'd be disappointed, aye? All the pilots drink scotch, dinna ye know that? Want ta butter oop the Admniral? Bottle of scotch. Want to get the better duty? Bottle a' scotch. Chief offers ye a drink? I'll have scotch, neat. S'more polite than if ye ask fer it on the rocks and they dinna hae'any ice. S'politics, it is."

As the bartender brought the irritable looking Tellarite her drink, she took it without paying them much mind. "I don't rightly care what Commander sh'Zoarhi drinks. If I advance in my position, it will be based on my skills, not my ability to suck up with my choice of drink. And correct me if I'm wrong, but your direct superior is absolutely not a scotch woman?"

"Beatsa crap oota me. Woman's a mystery. At my level there's nae muster wi' the chief, it's muster wi' section leader. See if there's any actual flyin' ta be doon for the day, and if not ye kin field day, which is once a week mandatory innyway, or ye kin pess oaf ta the sims and fly yer arse off. I may fly shuttlecraft and worker bees today, boot there ever any action, I'm right ready fer a dogfight, aye?" The wee imp cheered with her glass, then took a tiny sip.

Taking a rather large sip of her vodka, Briaar smirked. "If you care about the politics of your career, you need to climb up on a step stool and look around a bit. The air may be thin up here, but it's where the department heads all drink. And yours drinks Romulan Ale."

Finishing her drink, Briaar gestured to the bartender, shaking her empty glass. "Not that I care about such things. But your name is now on the flight chart for the Thunderchicken. That's something that might get you out of the worker bees."

"Whaaat, are ye serious? I thought that stoof was still illegal in the Federation, and wait- hoooooly Mary mother'a yeesus are ye serious? She's a..." The shrinky-dink space jockey looked around before leaning into her porcine conversation partner and hissed "A Romulan? The chief? Yuir na poolin me leg, aye?"

That was when the image of the redheaded woman with the pointy ears and the sharply pointed brows came to mind, and two and two made four in the head of the lucky leprechaun.

"Well I'll be jiggered. Ahhh, doesnae matter innyway. M'foine w'me shuttles and bees and casual duties," O'Dell tapered off into a mumble as she didn't sound terribly convincing. Then, looking up, she bought her glass up, then eyed the Tellurite. "So what's so how aboot yuir career thet yer workin' on troubleshootin' fer the big flight control project, aye? Yuir a flight deck engineer, then?"

Sucking loudly on her empty glass to irritate the bartender as they brought a fresh drink, Briaar turned to the diminutive pilot with a bemused smirk. "I go where things need fixing. Your chief... Who, yes, is a Romulan... makes a lot of extra work for my chief. She fancies herself a wannabe engineer and screws around with the runabouts. And since the chief engineer is an extremely busy woman, I get sent to fix your chief's messes. And yes, I suppose I'm hoping that my efforts will draw attention to my skills."

"However, you handled that ridiculous contraption exceptionally well. You could be much... well... bigger isn't the right word, of course. But don't you want out of the worker bees?" Briaar sounded irritated for O'Dell at this point.

Taking an actual sip of the whiskey, O'Dell raised an eyebrow and stuck out her jaw a bit. "Are you besmirchin' the honest labors of the 'little people' of Starfleet, is that it Ensign Fixer-Upper? We should all be focused on our careers and getting ahead and working hard, aye?"

"Oh, what kind of nonsense is that? There are plenty of pilots to perform those tasks. Or was it some other garden gnome who just a half hour ago was proverbially crossing her finger for the chance to fly that experimental... thing... again?" Briaar pursed her wrinkled brow and snorted slightly as she spoke.

"You can fly it, you DID fly it and it's logged in an official report. So you can romanticize being a 'little person' all you want, but it's slop. Yes, you should be working harder to be seen."

"Aaaaand joost who are you ta be tellin' me how ta manage me career?" Taking another belt of whiskey, the sprightly shuttle pilot poked a finger at her half again as large companion. "If yuir so smart how come yuir still an ensign, hm?"

Leaning in until her snout was almost touching O'Dell's pointed finger, Briaar snapped back. "I'm still an ensign because I don't know how to NOT tell idiots when they're being idiots. And up until now it was largely due to my criticizing my superiors for not being worth their RANK! And I can't believe that now I'm yelling at someone because they refuse to act on their obvious potential!"

The irritated Tellarite downed her Vodka and slapped the empty glass on the bar as she waved two fingers at the bartender. "You exasperating little... I spend a lot.of time in your department, and let me tell you something. MacNielle is a sycophant, Paulson is a chauvinist, and Harnell is at best, competent. And if I have to spend time down there, I don't want to have to deal with those three idiots when you are their better and actually worth my damn time!"

There was a brief silence as the bartender put Briaar's vodka down and cleared his throat noticably. Slowly, the pair turned their heads towards the room, where MacNielle, Paulson and Harnell were sitting at a table together, staring with their jaws hanging slack.

Harrumphing, Briaar cocked an eyebrow as she didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed. "What? I'm not wrong. Drink your drinks."

"Well ain't you doin' me all sortsa favors for me career. Remember me section chief? Aye, that's him sittin right there. And me officer on deck down on the flight deck when Herself- oh, that was the bird o'prey joke, I get it now, aye- when the cvhief and assistant chief aren't there, yeah, that's the officer on deck sittin' next to him. So thanks a whole heapin bunch fer ye and yuir brilliant career advice, Gavarus. Wi'friends like you who needs enemies?"

"FINE! I'm a terrible friend and my advice is horrible and I don't know how to talk to... people!" Gavarus turned to the bar to complain. "And where's my... There it is! THANK YOU!"

She doubled down on her attitude as her drink had clearly been filled and refused to admit she was feeling rightly terrible at the moment. So instead, she just kept arguing. "So, yes, this is how I try and help and I'm clearly terrible at it! So, I'M SORRY!"

Amazingly, she somehow managed to apologize and argue at the same time as Briaar chugged down her drink.

Tossing back her own drink, or at least a good mouthful of it, O'Dell hiccuped slightly and her pale skin took on a warm pink glow. "Ahhh, s'alreet. Ye dinna ken they were sittin' right nearby, and yuir nae wrong. Pratts, the lot of 'em. Buncha highfalutin snobs. I dinna care. I got to be a test pilot today, aye! Cheers ta me!" The bite-sized banshee raised the remainder of her drink with a cheerful half-lidded grin that indicated she was surprisingly drunk already.

Finishing her latest round, Briaar wiped her thick lips and slapped the glass back on the bar. "It's not all right."

Stepping up, Briaar walked over to the other table and addressed MacNielle, Paulson and Harnell. "Look, I'm obviously a bitch and she's... inexplicably considering that it's synthahol... just drunk. So if you feel the need to take this up with my department head, feel free, but direct your attention to where it belongs, on me!"

They just stared for a moment and nervously looked away back to their drinks, not quite knowing to make of the bizarre situation as Gavarus flumped back to the bar. "And how are you DRUNK? I swear, you are an enigma. And you are a test pilot."

Irritated, Briaar leaned over to yell over her shoulder to the now empty table. "And she's a damn good... where the hell did they? Cowards."

"Yuir arright fer a big angry space hog," the tiny test pilot grinned ear to ear, eyes barely open. "Cmon, I'll tan yer arse in darts!"

In attempting to climb off her stool, the drunken daredevil missed her handhold, and faceplanted into the deck. "Mm a'rrrrite..."

Staring down for a second in stunned disbelief, Briaar reached down to help pull the plastered pilot back to her feet.. "This is... It's synthahol, you ridiculous pixie. I don't think letting you near a dart board is a good idea. At this rate you'll somehow stab your eye out with one, and they're just holograms."

"M'allergic ta synthehol. Works like normal fer me, and I'll admit- to me eternal shame as a half Bringloidian- I canna hold me liquor. I dinna weigh enough ta be able to metablize. So I'm a cheap drunk, aye? Eh? Eh? Eh?" All smiles and good cheer, the drunken doll swayed on her feet, then began clambering back up onto her barstool.

Resisting the urge to snort out a chuckle, the sober Tellarite helped her diminutive new friend get settled. "Of course you are."

Sighing, Gavarus shook her head and smiled. "Bartender, coffee. You're not allergic to coffee, are you?"

"Irish coffee! Cuz I'm Irishish, right? Hah!" O'Dell continued to wrestle with her chair until she managed to clamber in and settle, then she blinked owlishly about. "So howcum nobody likes you? I like yez jus fine. Yer a right smartass ye are but ye knoow yuir stoof."

"You're drunk and I'm fairly certain you're insane, so you liking me is as much an enigma as anything else. But where I come from, we just say what we're thinking and we love a good argument." Gavarus took a sip of her newly arrived coffee.

"I know how that goes over in other cultures, but I frankly don't care to be someone I'm not. I'm an irritable, opinionated, arrogant, argumentative pain in the ass and I'm happy enough with that reality." In truth, Gavarus generally felt isolated and lonely, but she never wanted to give others the satisfaction of knowing she felt that way, but she found that she didn't want to hide that from O'Dell in that moment.

"But... I appreciate you... Liking me..." She admitted, as close to being emotionally vulnerable as she was comfortable being. "...Leprechaun."

"Aye! We're g'win ta be friends, ye and me! Because you need a friend who doesn't mind that ye're a horse's ass in a pig snout. And that's me, see? Everybody loves me cuz I'm wee and always smilin'. Always they ask if I'm sure I can reach the controls, and I say oh aye, least there's nae foot pedals, right?" O'Dell picked up her empty glass and peered into it, then set it aside with a sigh and picked up the cup of coffee the bartender delivered. "And they laugh, o'course, and they loove meh. But this one... it did have foot pedals. The cockpit was designed so adjustable even wee little me could strap in and work the foot pedals."

"I wan ta fly this bird, Gavarus. Ah kin do great things w'her, I can feel it. Boot I'm nae lucky, not at all. I want ta stay on this project, so what do I do?" Still drunk and more than a little rambling, the intoxicated ensign still managed to portray some urgency to the irascible engineer as the little redhead turned that mass of curls and blinked up at the Tellurite with those big green eyes.

"It made me feel... big," O'Dell practically whispered.

"Well, I don't like you because your 'wee'. And I sure as hell don't like you because of that ever-present grin from the seventh level of hell." Gavarus took a sip of her coffee, stopping just short of actually expressing why she liked the pint sized pilot.

"But luck is a crutch for the incompetent, and you have no need of such nonsense. You've got skills in that thing's cockpit. Your chief isn't that much taller than you. Fat little thing, really." Gavarus' tone got a bit quicker as she started talking more quietly, as if the two were hatching a plot.

"She's short as hell, too. And she's the chief flight control officer. So that means your height won't be a detriment to your career, here. So if you want back in that robot... thing... you need to show her what you can do. And, unless those three doorstops go and cry to Commander sh'Zoarhi that the mean old pig-girl called them names, she will keep assigning me to work the flight deck."

The tone was positively conspiratorial now, as the Tellarite's thick jowls we're barely concealing her widening smirk. "So you... my 'wee' friend... have an in. The Thunderchicken, the Runabouts, the CYCLONES... they will all need a pilot to check their systems and put them through their paces after I repair them."

Staring up the the platinum-haired Tellurite, the merry Mariposian blinked slowly. "So I should show the chief me line dancin?"

"You don't have to do anything different than what we did today. If I need a pilot, you think either of those three will volunteer? They didn't like working with me before tonight. So long as I'm still working the flight deck, I'll need test pilots. You just keep doing that job the way you have, and your chief will see it. Trust me."

Taking a long swig to finish her coffee, Briaar continued. "I've given her my reports after the end of her shift. She likes to watch all the feeds. Maybe it's a Romulan thing, but if you want to be noticed, you will be."

"Awwww, ye do like me, ya great grouchy grumbler!" The pixie beamed a cheery drunkely delighted smile up at the scowling countenance of the imposing Tellurite. "Alreet, I'll take yuir gamble that yuir loverly speechy there won't get me in troobul, and tha' maybe the chief might notice me antics wi' her wee pet project. Ma and Da said I was wastin' me potential headed off fer Starfleet, and surely would be nice ta write home ta tell 'em their wee Fiona is a test pilot now on a top-secret project that lets me learn to disco dance with a robotic exo-whatchacallit."

With her thick, pink skin it was nearly impossible to see that Briaar was blushing slightly, embarrassed but also working overtime to not show that she was happy. "Well, keep in mind that words 'top secret' there when writing home and... Wait?!"

As Briaar processed what O'Dell had just said, she got indignant again. "What do you mean, 'wasting your potential'? Where the hell else was a pilot going to show their potential? Crop dusting?"

“Waaaahhhhh, seein as my people only came back together only a few years before I was born, sticking around to keep the gene pool circulatin was high on the priority list.” The lilting leprechaun sipped her coffee, holding onto the mug with both hands, which just made it look that much larger by comparison. “But I’m a wee midget! I’m like the very definition of recessive genes in action, so who would want this passed on? Besides, kin ye imagine what I’d look like pregnant, smuggling a medicine ball in me belly? Nae, home and hearth kin wait. Maybe someday I’ll meet a nice lad and want to settle down, but fuir noow, I’m oot havin me an adventure and a career! Hic!”

"Breeding?! That was the potential they gave you crap about...? Oh, what nonsense. That they would... Uggh!" Briaar rolled her eyes, aggravated. "You're a pilot! On a Starship! That's the definition of living up to one’s potential well, except for being an engineer, of course." She ended on a smug smirk at her new friend.

“Ach, ye know how it is, duty to the colony, uphold tradition, ye break yuir mother’s heart, alla that rot. ‘Lookit yuir brothers, they’re all doin’ their part, why can’t ye?’ and so forth. Ye must know, aye?” The slowly sobering sprite eyed her taller compatriot. “Must be a whole passel of hogs-headed brutes back home missin the likes of ye, aye?”

Snorting out a laugh, Briaar slapped the bar. "Oh, that is sooooo not a priority for me. Besides, Tellarite's have an average of SIX children at a time. I have nine brothers and seven sisters to keep the family going back home. And I have less than no interest in the gods awful suitors my parents tried to marry me off to. Morons, each and every one."

“Ach, now yuir speakin me language,” the garrulous pygmy replied. “Me da an Mum paraded every possible suitor past me before I was e’en old enow to consider marriage. Short and tall, wide and thin, a worse lot of gingers ye nivvir did see. And all fuir what? ‘Tradition’ they sez to me. Tradition of settling down, raisin babies and watching some good for nothing lout nip off to the poob every night, leavin' me home ta do the cookin' and cleanin' and raisin of the young’uns? Nae, not this bonnie lass! I pessed off for the stars fast as me little legs could carry me, I did. E’en got a letter of recommendation from some muckity muck who me Aunt Brenna met during the Great Exodus.”

"Well, I don't know if anyone is speaking your version of the language, but absolutely understand." Briaar gestured to the bartender for a refill on her Coffee. "I swear, you'd question that we’re on the cusp of the 25th century, sometimes. Antiquated, patriarchal, misogynistic tripe. And to hell with little legs, you have warp drive, now."

“Well, I did mention that we were in a bit of a genetic bind, at least me ancestors were. And me Da’s side of the tribe were the backwards country cousins, so… aye, a bit behind the times, maybe,” the stereotypical siren admitted. “But they’ve six sons ahead of me already, so not like I was going to be the salvation of the line, aye?”

“Now ye want to talk about the short legs, Starfleet Academy and Flight School I nivvir heard the end of it. Allays double-timing it joost ta watch me scurry along, but I made it, aye? I’m a certified pilot and in the fleet!” Looking down, her own legs dangling above the floor while the Tellurite amazon’s feet firmly planted, O’Dell nodded sagely. “Not yuir challenge I kin see…”

Snorting slightly, Briaar smirked. "Not even a little. To get to my first assignment on Starbase 467, I spent 36 hours in a type 15 shuttlecraft. The entire time, sitting like this."

As she spoke, the tall Tellarite brought her knees up and tilted her head to the side in a clearly uncomfortable position for a few seconds before resuming a normal posture. But as her thick tipped hooves hit the bottom of the bar they made a sharp clapping sound.

"Then there's the sounding like a damn tap dancer when I walk. That went over wonderfully at the Academy."

“I think it’s keen! Ye’re easy to hear, and ye kin tap dance like a dervish, aye? Nae wrong wi’that! Plus ye know how hard it is tryin ta find women’s shoes in a size 4?” Looking on the bright side was a particularly obnoxious trait that tended to shine through the little leprechaun at the most unlikely times. Contemplating her coffee, the reductive rocketeer asked in a quiet voice, “Ye really think I have a shot at doin’ better? At really getting ta be a test pilot?”

"You already are, O'Dell. Try and keep up." Briaar smirked as she spoke. "One of the Cyclones had some minor surface damage that, I swear, looks like a giant spider was climbing on it. I'll be working on that tomorrow and I'll need to run a full systems check to ensure it's flight ready. It might not be all that fun, but it's logged time with the systems and those add up. I'll need a pilot, unless you have something better to do?"

Gavarus was smiling as she added some meaningless ribbing to her comment.

While her eyes lit up and the petite pilot seemed fairly ready to burst with joy, she remembered her audience and toned it down. “Wahhhhl, it might cut into me sim time, but I suppose if it’d help ye out, tis the least I could do for ye, aye?” The pearly-toothed grin that spread across her face belied the cool disaffected exterior O’Dell was trying to emulate. Then her eyes opened wide as she made an internal realization.

“Ye know, I nivvir did proper introduce meself, and if we’re g’win ta be friends, that’s important.” Sticking out her sift pink fleshy hand, which was literally half the size of her shipmate’s, she offered a close-lipped smile up the gigantic grease monkey. “Fiona Mary Margaret Josephine Campbell O’Dell, at your service.”

Looking at O'Dell's outstretched hand for a second with an almost suspicious expression, the tall Tellarite smirked slightly. "That's... entirely too many names. Really... six names for a third of a person. I've just got the two. Briaar Gavarus."

The contrived smirk quickly transitioned to a more authentic, warm smile as Gavarus took the diminutive pilots hand into her own rather enormous, three fingered one.

“Well, pleased ta make yuir acquaintance, Briarr Gavarus, e’en if ye dinna have a proper fool name like we Mariposians.” With a definitive shake, the wee wonder removed her small hand from the thigh calloused grip of the engineer, who she was relieved had not tried to crush her hand as most seemed to when she offered a handshake. “So, another round? I think I mighta sobered up enough ta walk agin!”

"The hangover will be yours to deal with, Fiona. But if I have to carry you back to your quarters, know I will do so in as embarrassing fashion as I can imagine. So, the choice is yours." Briaar leaned in with a sarcastic but playful grin while holding up two fingers to the exasperated bartender as she pumped her thick eyebrows at the pint sized pilot.