"The antigravity compensators on these things are pure genius. They're made for maneuvering in tight spaces is small controlled movements. They can do atmospheric, but they're made to just spin, point and goo. S'bloody brilliant," O'Dell took a moment to take another bite out of the cake donut in her hand. "The spin on them is amazing, and the inertial dampeners go up to at least 6 G's that I've come up with so far. These things are dead brilliant, they are. I mean, s'noo Thunderchicken, but for a light versatile craft these are pretty amazing machines. Is Starfleet going inta production on these ye figure?"

Standing clear of the hovering, gold Cyclone known as the 'Getaway Driver' by Commander Rita Paris, engineering assistant Ensign Briaar Gavarus watched the small craft twirl in the air in front of her.

The tall Tellarite crinkled her pig-like snout as she checked the data on her PaDD coming from the flight test. "Do you know what's brilliant, Leprechaun? Not eating a snack while testing an experimental spacecraft?"

Gesturing to the flight deck, Gavarus called into the cockpit. "Okay... The systems are all reading green, the repairs all appear to holding up and the structural damage is rectified. Sensors aren't giving my me any feedback. You can land it now."

Slowing down the seemingly random chaotic spinning rotation of the craft, the rambunctious redhead whose pixie-esque demeanor and diminutive stature had netted her the call sign 'Leprechaun' brought the nose down to angle the craft like a puppy looking bashfully up at the oversized engineer. Nearly 2 meters tall, thick and solidly built, she was in many ways the diametric opposite of the height-challenged pilot. As the vehicle hovered, O'Dell pushed her luck.

"Are ye sure we dinna need to actually fly her aboot a bit joost to make sure she handles right? I mean, tis the Commander herself's personal wee toy, so we'd best be making sure it's completely checked out, shouldn't we?" The craft nudged closer slightly, the rear of it rising to wag slightly, once again emulating the motions of the head of an eager puppy.

Rolling her eyes in an exaggerated fashion, the irritable engineer waved her PaDD in the air as she replied with a half lidded expression. "It IS completely checked out, and we're not cleared to do any more than we're... Really? Cut it out!And stop staring at me with those great, green orbs of yours. It's creepy and it won't get us flight clearance."

"Awwww," the little pilot let the rear of the craft down slowly as she stretched out the syllables, emphasizing her disappointment. "S'alreet tho. She's a wonder too, just such a nice, solid, versatile little craft that doesnae make ya feel like yuir in a box with nacelles, ye know? Yuir behind the stick a'this baby, ye KNOW she can fly!" Emphasizing her point, the excitable ensign pulled the rear of the metallic gold craft up, then up again a bit higher as she spoke, emphasizing her point while slightly crowding the cantankerous engineer. It was not unlike watching a puppeteer master a marionette, if observed from a certain perspective.

"My gods, I'm talking to a child." The exasperated engineer muttered under her breath as she scratched the side of her neck with her thick, three fingered hand. "Yes. We know she can fly. So show me if she can LAND, O'Dell!"

The excitable pilot was clearly having fun, but Gavarus didn't want either of them to get into any trouble.

"Alreet, alreet, don't get yuir bacon burnt. You're the boss, Gavarus- landing it is." With that, the small craft withdrew, coming to hover above a landing circle before rising a meter and a half above the deck. There, she executed a slow roll just to insure clearance, followed by a quick spin of a dozen rotations at high speed before settling with only the slightest of bumps on the deck. Popping the canopy, the pint-sized pilot popped out, sliding down the rear wing to land with a flourish. "Tah dah! She lands!"

In response, the porcine grease monkey began a slow, overly dramatic clap and she tried stifling a laugh that slipped out as a snort. "You thought you couldn't be a test pilot, and here you are testing all sorts of things. Testing the tolerances of the ship, the laws of physics, my patience, everything. You have skills, woman."

Shaking her head, Gavarus walked over to the small work table where she kept both her tools and the small box of doughnuts that O'Dell bad brought with her. As her cloven hooves clacked against the deck while she walked, the Tellarite with the frizzy blonde pony tail puff entered data into her PaDD. "The damage was only superficial, thankfully. I've no idea what kind of chaos they got into in this vehicle, but if I didn't know better, I'd swear that a giant spider was trying to pry the canopy open. There were multiple claw marks and some kind of mild chemical burns dripped along the hull."

Stopping at the cart, Gavarus picked up one of the glazed doughnuts and took a bite, continuing. "But everything checks out... A bit above accepted tolerances, really. All those ridiculous little spins you performed put zero stress on the frame. I'll have a surplus of date for my report."

"Me spins are nae ridiculous!" the perky pilot protested. "They establish tolerances, verify the intertial dampeners and the anti-grav emitters are fully functional, and they demonstrate joost how steady they are. They dinna drift, joost like the Thunderchicken. Ye park her in place ye can do innything." Finishing up the last bite of the donut still clutched in her hand, the little redhead started fighting to let down her mop of unruly bright red curls, talking around the mouthful.

"In a tight maneuvering situation, where you could ease off the dampeners to slide a bit? Ohhhh, she'd be joost as genius I'll bet. She's small enow to be hard to hit, and Ah suspect the hull's got some refractory coating ta make 'er harder to target. But in small controlled spaces, that's where she'd be a wizard, Harry!" Trailing her fingers over the golden hull, noting the antique Starfleet delta on the wing, O'Dell cocked her head curiously.

"What is it with the Commander and that uniform, innyhow?" the Mariposian ensign mused aloud, ostensibly asking the more experienced flight engineer. "Isn't Command supposed to be in crimson, I thought? And what's with the emblem? How come hers is different than ours, ye reckon?"

"Well, I've heard a good half dozen stories about..." But as Gavarus was about to continue, the computer chirped loudly, interrupting the tall Tellarite, mid-sentence. Seconds later, a stern voice called over the comm.

"Lieutenant Dox to Ensign O'Dell. Please report to the Flight Control Office immediately, please. And bring your friend, there."

"Aw, shite... looks like maybe the chief was watching...?" O'Dell cracked a nervous smile up at Gavarus, the small shoulders coming together in a self-conscious shrug.

Swallowing the last bite of her doughnut, Gavarus had the expression of someone whose hand was just caught in the cookie jar. She went to speak but before she could, Dox's voice came over the comm again. "Also, don't leave those on my flight deck, Ensign Gavarus."

"Maybe she wants a donut too...?" the pixie pilot offered lamely, wincing when she saw the angry expression on her friend's face.

The flight control office was immediately below the Deck 3 flight deck, and a number of lifts and ladders between the two existed. Grasping the ladder shaft and bracing her feet alongside it, O'Dell slid smoothly down the ladder. It was a stunt she'd picked up, like many she did, which took advantage of her light weight and diminutive size. Looking up, she held out her hands then caught the box of donuts tossed from above by the Tellarite flight mechanic, who then lumbered down the ladder hand over hand like a normal person.

"What d'ye suppose she's g'win ta say? If it's trouble, I'll take the rap, aye? Ye been joost doin yuir job and tis me that's been muckin aboot, so ye let me do the talkin, aye? Ah dinna want you ta get inta troobul over me hijinks." It was abundantly clear that when nervous, the chatterbox nature of the excitable ensign cranked up to 11.

Getting to the bottom the the ladder, the rotund engineer tugged on her uniform top to straighten it out while replying in a tone that was equal parts yelling and whispering. "She's YOUR department head, of course I'm going to let you do the talking. Do you see me arguing with you about that? I'm not! And arguing is essentially my defining character trait, and this is me deferring to you!"

With an exaggerated expression, Gavarus raised her eyebrows and gestured to the door to the Flight Control office.

“Well, when ye put it thataway...” the short stunt sprite said seriously, gulping and screwing up her courage to face the music. Straightening her too large and slightly rumpled blue and white flight jumpsuit, O’Dell started to put her hair up, thought better of it, then shook her hands out at her sides before she caught the exasperated expression on the face of her fellow ensign. Wilting a bit, with a nervous smile, O’Dell stepped up to open the flight control office door.

As the two Ensigns entered, they took in the room. It was starkly appointed with virtually no added flair or personal touches. At the far end was a simple desk where Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox was sitting, looking at her desktop screen.

On her desk was a simple PaDD and a small model of a Constitution class starship. The red-headed Romulan looked up at the two and gestured with her eyes to the two empty seats across from her desk. "Have a seat, ladies."

Hopping into the chair, the diminutive daredevil’s feet did not make it to the deck, while the cranky starcraft technician seemed cramped in hers, looking oddly like a parent and child at a teacher conference. Without waiting for permission or invitation, the Mariposian midget began babbling.

“Lieutenant Dox ma’am, this is all me fault. Ensign Gavrus is serious and hardworkin’ and shouldnae be punished for innything I’ve done. She wanted readings and I thought maybe if I gave her more ta work with, it’d work better, and I was joist excited by the chance ta fly something interestin' and-“

Cutting the exuberant ensign off, mid rant, Dox barely looked up from her screen. "What... exactly... is all your fault, Miss O'Dell?"

“Uhhhhh….” Caught on the spot, the petite pilot sighed, her shoulders slumping and looking to an observer not unlike a guilty child who’d been caught. Drawing herself upright in her seat, she figured she’d go for broke. “Well, me spins and my fancy tricks wi’ the Cyclone and the Thunderchicken, and me line dancing, and invading Ensign Gavarus' personal space wi' a starcraft an' I brought donuts because I heard pigs like donuts and I dinna mean anything aboot the Commander I was joost curious and-“

Again, Lieutenant Dox cut off the young pilot whose rambling anxiety felt more than a little familiar to the Romulan chief. "Special dispensation. Not unlike the dispensation that allows Ensign Gavarus here to forgo shoes. Commander Paris' basic service record is available for view and will answer any questions you might have further..." Her eyes shifted over to Ensign Gavarus as she spoke. "... without the need for spreading further any rumors you may have heard."

The usually argumentative Tellarite was stiff and silent in her seat.

"Now, what is the basic, by the numbers procedure for running a diagnostic and what are the standard, on deck maneuvers that are required to test those systems under the circumstances, Miss O'Dell?" Dox asked, leaning over towards the nervous Mariposian with just a hint of a smile.

Panicked by being called on the carpet by her superior officer and lost as to what she was meant in reference to Gavarus, O’Dell babbled while she struggled to find the right answer to the question the flight deck commander had asked. “It was, ah, joost transformation… ah, the gear linkages were tricky between transformation between, ah, vehicle and the ‘walker’ mode, ma’am,” The anxious aerialist sought confirmation from the stoic Tellarite beside her, and at a slight nod from her porcine companion, she continued. “So joost transformin betwixt modes, maybe takin’ a few steps to see how it all reacted, maybe… ahhh…”

It was abundantly clear that whatever answer the chief was seeking, the little leprechaun did not have, so she worked to stall. “And, ah, standard, uh, flight protocols wouldnae be in play since it was nae the flight control systems that were bein’ inspected ‘cept in the case of the Cyclone boot it really just needed… atmospheric sealant testing?”

Picking up on the two nodding to each other, Dox worked to conceal smile as she stood up from her desk. "So, it sounds like you know your basic procedures. And if you are unsure, you can always simply refer to your checklist. Good. In the future, I would recommend sticking to those in basic guidelines. If you feel the need to expand on those procedures, I will expect a written report explain exactly why afterwards. I am not closed off to listening to new ideas from either of you. We're developing new ways to fly here on the Hera, so that means rethinking the test procedures to adapt."

The reality was that Dox was impressed with what she saw. O'Dell clearly had natural ability and solid skills that needed to be nurtured and not squashed.

"As for your... dancing... well, Ensign Gavarus here did specifically say, and I quote, 'Show me how you dance.', so that is forgivable. Proper safety protocols were in place and you didn't chip the paint." Dox let a slight smirk through. "Don't make a habit of it, am I understood?"

“Yes mum. Sorry, mum. I was joost… I let me enthusiasm get away from me, Lieutenant. Wilnae happen agin. I’ll, uh, follow protocol from noow on.” The exuberant ensign’s spirits appeared to be considerably dampened, and she was taking the chastisement as if she was accustomed to hearing it, and knew the appropriate response to mollify a superior. In fact, it sounded like a speech she’d given before.

It was, in fact, a speech Chief Dox herself had also given more than a few times, and it was one she didn't like hearing. So she walked around her desk to the front and leaned back on it, putting her closer to Ensign O'Dell's level as she allowed her smile out and brought the tone of her voice down a notch.

"You misunderstand me, Miss O'Dell. I appreciate enthusiasm. I want to encourage it, as a point of fact. But enthusiasm must be measured on occasion and controlled. But controlled doesn't mean you have to shut it down. Your enthusiasm led to you recommending a variable gear box, which Ensign Gonadie thanks you for, by the way."

Tilting her head to the side to meet the down turned expression of O'Dell, Dox continued. "And your recommendation here regarding atmospheric sealant testing is not covered on the standard checklist. Or rather, it wasn't until now."

Leaning a bit more upright, Dox changed back to asking questions. "So, how would you go about doing that on the flight deck? Testing atmospheric seals?” As she spoke, the young Chief held up a single finger to Ensign Gavarus with a smile as she asked, letting the nervous Tellarite know to let O'Dell answer first.

Confused and more nervous with the chief in closer proximity, sensing a trap, O’Dell looked to Gavrus even as that finger came up, then she swallowed hard as she scooted back in her seat a bit, then realized that made her short legs stick out more, so she shuffled to the edge of the chair and sat up straight. “Ahhhhhh, erect an, uh, atmospheric containment field? That could pump away the atmo save for inside the cockpit, then perform a… uhhh, a stress test to insure that that the seals hold in vacuum…?”

It was absolutely a question, and not an answer. The junior officer was still clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop, and the yelling to begin. But if there was one thing Mnhei'sahe Dox knew, it was anxiety. The perpetually nervous pilot could sense it a parsec away, and she felt it coming off O'Dell in waves she wanted to extinguish quickly.

"Yes, that sounds perfect!" The Chief's voice lifted up and her smile was bright. "Is that something you could put together, Miss Gavarus?"

The Tellarite engineer, who had barely been addressed directly so far, but was naturally far less nervous, replied quickly. "Of course."

Standing up, Dox walked over to the center of the room where the holographic emitter display was situated. "Now, there is one key factor that's going to make this work, and it is why those seats probably felt even bigger than normal, Miss O'Dell. You see, you weren't dressed for the job."

Gesturing for the two to come over to where she was, Dox looked up. "Computer, project a Holographic display of my EVA suit, please."

With a chirp, the computer replied as a projection of Dox's own EVA suit appeared in the center of the room. "Those seats were designed for pilots wearing these, Miss O'Dell.

Watching closely, Dox hoped the display would inspire O'Dell to break a bit back out of her anxiety.

While the unexpected enthusiasm from her superior was a surprise to the tiny test pilot, the view of the EVA suit immediately washed her anxiety away with excitement. While she knew what one was and that they were sometimes used, pilots were generally ensconced in atmospherically sealed craft in Starfleet, so they were not fitted for EVA suits. Eyes wide like a child on Christmas morning, it was clear the anxiety she’d been holding onto had been rapidly replaced. Slapping her palm to her forehead, O’Dell made the connection. “That was alla them pokey bits! Linkages to connect the ship to the suit, so’s the ship could monitor the pilot’s movements and more accurately transfer the indicated movement through the, the, the interface!”

Gently smacking Gavris at rib level O’Dell complained. “Ye dinna tell me I was supposed to be suited oop ta fly one of ‘em, I thought ye’d joost set the seats so ye could sit in it! Wait!”

Eyes somehow managing to open wider, as the little flyer who looked up, even to her own chief who was none too tall, the excitement radiating from her was practically palpable. “Do… I mean, they don’t make ‘em in my size, do they? At the Academy they, uh, made me wear the kid's version to zero-G qualify.”

Smiling over, Dox walked behind the transparent hologram so it was abundantly clear that the projected suit contoured to her body exactly, even her impressive posterior and hips. "When you leave here, you are scheduled to report to the ship's armory where you will be full body scanned and fitted by computer down to the micron, Miss O'Dell."

For her part, O'Dell managed to mostly stifle a squeal of delight at the concept. Mostly.

Then, the chief leaned slightly to look up to the tall Tellarite. "If you have the time in your schedule, this applies to you as well, Miss Gavarus."

Watching O'Dell's excitement, Gavarus almost missed being addressed. "Wait, what? Uh... what do I need an EVA suit for? I'm not a pilot."

"No, but Miss O'Dell will be working in a vacuum, and she will require a hands on engineer to ensure that these vehicles are working properly. And at some point, those tests of the Cyclones will likely require that hands on assistance to be from the back seat in space. Is there a problem with this?" Dox added, with a smile just a bit less than the one she had for O'Dell.

As Gavarus was about to answer, Dox cut her off to keep talking. "I am not your supervisor, so you can always request a different assignment from Commander sh'Zoarhi. However, you two seem to work well together, and that relationship has yielded positive results. So, I see no reason to discontinue that at this time."

Beside her, O’Dell made a ‘don’t screw this up face’ at the oversized officer, silently attempting to relate that she wanted her pal the engineer in on this project, as it appeared that they were both getting what they wanted today in a very unexpected move. When that didn’t work, the pint-sized pilot elbow nudged her mechanic on the hip.

"Uh..." The usually argumentative and verbose engineer was at a loss for words. "Uh, no sir. Ma'am. Lieutenant. I'm... I would like to continue to work in my current capacity." Gavarus replied, showing a bit of nervousness herself.

"Computer, you may discontinue the holo projection, thank you." Dox called us as she stepped back to her desk.

The projection vanished as the computer replied, =^=You're welcome, Lieutenant Dox.=^=

This was the first time Gavarus had ever heard a ship's computer respond to a pleasantry, and wore a look of surprise on her face as she looked down at O'Dell.

"I will need those sealant checks on the three cyclones by oh five thirty hours. So, you're dismissed, the armory is expecting you both," Dox replied.

“Yes ma’am! Chief! Lieutenant! Right away, ma’am, you’ll have those reports on your desk before change of shift tonight!" O’Dell nodded enthusiastically, then she bounded out into the hallway, surprised when the door shut behind her and she found herself alone in the corridor.

As O'Dell bounded out of the room, Dox leaned over and spoke. "A word, Ensign Gavarus."

The tall Tellarite paused, rolled her eyes and sighed as she stood at attention. As the door closed, Dox adjusted her uniform and stepped over to the much taller woman, looking up at her with a stern expression. "You are not in my department, therefore this does not fall under my aegis to do so, but I wanted to take a moment to tell you. So long as you are assigned to working in the Flight Control Department, that means you will be working with the flight crew. The entire flight crew. Not just O'Dell."

The portly chief folded her hands behind her back. "So I will tell you what I told them this morning..." Dox punctuated, referring to the awkward exchange between the ensign and three members of the flight crew in Ten-Forward the night before, "I would recommend that you find a way to maintain a professional demeanor with the rest of the crew. Nobody has to like each other, but give them a chance, and they might surprise you. This is not an order' just a suggestion to make things easier all around, as I'd much prefer to not have this be an official matter."

The usually combative woman looked down at her superior officer and nodded stiffly as she replied, "Aye, Lieutenant. I will... make a more concerted effort. Thank you."

Dox maintained her posture and eye contact as she continued. "All I ask, Miss Gavarus. Oh, one more thing- you are correct. I DO watch all of the feeds related to this department. And you and Miss O'Dell are welcome to continue calling yourselves by whatever needling nicknames you choose while you are by yourselves. But if I ever hear you call myself, Ensign Gonadie or anyone else serving on this ship anything other than their names or ranks, I will have words with your supervisor, and those words will not end well. Am I clear, Ensign?"

Referring now to the footage of the earlier day where Gavarus had used the term 'Bird of Prey' derogatorily, Dox looked up at the Tellarite with an unblinking expression that more than emphasized her point.

"Understood, Lieutenant," was all the now-anxious Ensign replied.

Immediately, Dox's posture relaxed as she finished up with a friendly smile. "Excellent. Then we won't speak of this again, and you can consider it forgotten moving forward. You're dismissed, so you'd best catch up with her."

"Thank you, ma'am." Gavarus replied as she quickly made her way out into the corridor where O’Dell practically fell into the office again, as she'd been trying to eavesdrop at the door. The engineer nudged the pilot forward as she shook off the nerves with her usual, gruff demeanor.

“Hey… what’d Herself keep ye after for? Are we still workin' tagether? Did I get ye in trouble? Do I need to goo ta bat fer ye?” Leave it to O’Dell to be more worried about the titantic technician than her own anxiety. “Do I need ta goo face down the Bird of Pr-“

"The Lieutenant!" Gavarus replied forcefully, cutting O'Dell off before she could repeat the choice of phrase that had put her in hot water. She stared down with her lips pursed at the plucky pilot. "I don't need you to get me in trouble, Fiona. And I'm not in trouble anymore, so long as that particular phrase or any other like it is never repeated, got it?"

The bright green eyes of the little pilot were wide, and she was leaning back away from the imposing ensign, blinking rapidly in surprise and confusion. It was the first time the size and mass difference between them had truly been emphasized, and the much smaller mammal took a half step back. "I... I... uh..."

Gavarus mimed the 'zip your lips' action for her pint-sized friend, hoping she would get the hint. As she began walking away from the office and toward their destination in the armory, the Tellarite tinkerer indicated for the scrappy sprite to come along, and the shorter-legged pilot hustled to catch up. Once away from the flight control office, Gavarus shifted her tone away from the anxiety of the last few minutes, as she realized that she had unintentionally intimidated O'Dell physically a moment ago. "But don't worry, I can still call you a diminutive garden gnome or a carrot-topped whirling dervish. Fun, eh?"

“So… I can still call ye a blonde troll with walrus toosks who could win a beauty pageant in the Mirror Universe?” O’Dell tested the waters. “Just no calling superior officers names?”

"Essentially, you yappy red poodle." Gavarus nudged O'Dell while they walked.

“Waaahhhhlll, so long as it’ll keep yuir fat outta the fire, I suppose I kin behave and nae call the superior officers names,” O’Dell nudged the big engineer back as they headed for the turbolift. The little lass was uncharacteristically quiet until they were alone in the turbolift, at which point she finally let out an ear-piercing shriek of excitement heard by canines and Vulcans alike as she jumped up and down.

“We’re test pilots!!!”

The lights in the cockpit of the small 2-man craft flicked with the light of a soldering gun, as thick-fingered hands in EVA armor attempted to do fine detail work that required a workshop and tools. The bright red craft with the modern Starfleet delta on the wing tumbled slowly on an elliptical arc, ever so slowly moving toward the denser-packed field of asteroids.

"So how's it goin back there, aye?" came a cheery voice across the comms.

Hunched over in the backseat of the small, Cyclone-class vehicle dubbed 'the Cherry Bomb', engineering assistant Briaar Gavarus let out an irritated snort from inside her gold clad EVA suit. "Well, it could be going better in that LITERALLY EVERYTHING IS BROKEN!!"

The oversized, pig-like Tellarite woman dramatically shook the fried circuit board in her hands. "This god damned contact is completely useless. Another dead end in figuring out WHY we're floating out here in the middle of nowhere. But thank you for ASKING, Fiona!"

Letting go, the circuit board floated away in the canopy of the powerless craft while Gavarus sulked in the backseat.

"Maybe... we could boost the comm signal, take apart one of our comm badges to... oh, right, vacuum. The engine's still back there makin power, aye? S'just that all the systems blew when she shorted, so she sparks when she powers up. An we canna bring up simple controls cuz Gonadie routed everything through one master system, and that took a hit, so now we're..." Ensign Fiona O'Dell held up her right hand, some of the EVA interior still scorched. Her fingers twitched, then her hand began to shake spasmodically.

"Boot we'll figure it oot, Gavarus. We'll git outta this somehow'r another, aye?"

Generally, the porcine engineer's default setting was to be argumentative, but she choked back a sarcastic come back as, instead, her attention had been taken up as she watched O'Dell try to not draw attention to her injury.

There was a brief few seconds of silence as Gavarus tried to force herself to calm down, which only served to ramp up her growing frustration. "The engine has power, but we can't get it to our systems! The power flow regulators are fused, life support is limited to our suits, the main computer seems to be exploded and the power feedback fried the HUD's of our EVA systems."

As Gavarus spoke, resuscitating the laundry list of their woes, she got more wound up. "Add to that, everything went tits up at warp throwing us so far off course that the Hera won't even know where to look for us once we've missed the next check in! I can't see the systems to even TRY and diagnose the problems and to top it all off, we're SLOWLY DRIFTING INTO AN ASTEROID FIELD!!!

Sitting helplessly in the back seat, Gavarus groaned loudly. "UUUGGH! Sorry. Needed to get that out."

"I know ye love a good argument but I canna argue inny a'that," O'Dell chuckled, a bit of a forced sound. There was silence for a moment, then she spoke again, her voice a bit stronger. "We're nae g'win ta die oot here. I dinna escape from Mariposa to die in a coffin oot here in deep space wi' you. Alla them stupid boys who only wanted one thing, all cock an' swagger wi' nae a brain amongst them- hey!"

"Ye said... ye said the engine and the power plant's intact, right?" When she spoke, there was some excitement in the compact copilot's voice. "There's joost no brains, no way ta direct it since everything up here took a shite. But what if we went EVA, hooked me suit directly into the engine? We could use it to start the engines and navigate, e'en joost at impulse, maybe find a way to use it to boost the signal from our armor through the deflector? Rig it oop like a Ferengi Dabo table on a cruise ship!"

Looking down at the compact computer rig on the forearm of her EVA suit, Gavarus thought over O'Dell's idea. O'Dell's suit was damaged, but her own wasn't, aside from the inoperable HUD. "Are you insane? I mean... Aside from just the danger of micro-meteors from the asteroid field penetrating you suit, we have... there's... No, that's crazy. That's a crazy idea."

“Ah know tis not a very elegant solution, but… we have ta do something. I’m wee, I kin hide behind her while she flies and if ye bolt me onto the back of the hull I willnae lose me grip. I’ve got maybe two hours of oxygen left, prolly less. We have ta try something while we still can. I’d rather die tryin’ than just freeze ta death while I hyperventilate and turn the same color as the hull.” The cheery enthusiasm that was usually her hallmark faltered a bit at that, and the little leprechaun’s voice quavered. “Please, Briaar. I canna do it alone.”

Biting her fleshy lip for a second, the anxious engineer was looking around the cockpit, trying to avoid the he topic until she couldn't anymore. "You can't do it at all!"

"You're... your suit's damaged. Those burns fried your EVA's on board computer, so you'd have no way to link the engines to the ships systems or control them." Briaar was talking almost as fast as O'Dell's usual speed.

"You're idea is good. I've been thinking about... It would... AAAGH!! the angry Tellarite yelled in frustration. "I would have to go out and do it. You need to be in here to actually FLY!"

“I kin… I kin navigate by the stars and their positions. I kin do the math, I think. If our suits be close enough to the hull we can e’en try a warp hop, get back to the right neighborhood, methinks… we should be alreet. I kin do it, I can. I dinna need to be in here ta fly, the cockpit’s naught but fried components and parts after that power surge, so I kin be back there with ye so we kin work together. Or we could try to boost a comm signal to send an SOS to the Hera or innyone listenin’. Or… or…” the voice of the desperate ensign tapered off, the only sound escaping her a rather small sniffle.

"Look... Just... You're tiny, turn around and scootch up here. I need to see your suit." Frustrated, Gavarus was trying to work through the problem.

“Alreet… alreet…” came the reply as O’Dell struggled with the flight harness, unbuckling herself from the Cyclone’s pilot’s couch with some difficulty. As the fried crispy flight yoke was inactive, it didn’t hinder her as she turned around, then grunted as she maneuvered to get most of her upper body up and over the seat. Her hands were still curled into twitching claws, a few of the fingers of the suit melted together by the electrical surge that had coursed through the little pilot in the accident, which had fried most of the ship and her armor's systems. More than a few perfectly spherical droplets floated inside her helmet, even as more had attached themselves to the interior of her faceplate. The tiny test pilot summoned up a smile.

Trying not to look at O'Dell's hands, Gavarus felt her stomach flip over out of concern.

“Bet yuir glad ye signed on ta be a test engineer wi’me now, aye?” The laugh that followed the statement was not at all convincing, but the Mariposian maiden was trying to maintain good spirits.

"Of course. Who else is going to put up with all that obnoxious cheer. C'mere." Gavarus kept a purposefully straight face as she reached forward and began looking at O'Dell's helmet.

Grabbing the soldering iron from her tool kit, Gavarus used it as a light source to examine the comm relay panel located behind the right ear area. "That's what I thought. That same surge that knocked out everything shorted out our A/V connections. Hold on."

Popping the panel out, Gavarus held it up in front of the light. "I need both hands to do this. Can... can you hold the light?"

Taking the light from the thick-fingered hand, O’Dell wedged the cylindrical flashlight between her thumb and forefinger, not stoic enough to do it without a sound but she was definitely biting her lower lip to stifle any recognition of the pain. The light was unsteady, as was her hand, but she had it held, and she was doing her best to maintain her grip and hold the light source steady.

“Herself is gonna be awfully mad we scratched her bebeh. After we trashed her so thoroughly, we might joost be on deck scrubbing duties from here on out, aye?” Giving the Tellarite engineer something to grumble about might help keep her mind off the situation, and make her annoyed at something other than the flickering light source.

"Not if we can get it up and running again. We hit... something... while at warp. Before the computer exploded, I saw a massive spike in the lower band of the EM wave and a powerful gravimetric distortion. Maybe a cosmic string or even a quantum filament. You hit a pothole in space, Fiona." Gavarus wasn't particularly good at being comforting, but she was making her best effort.

“Well, that explanation’ll go over a whole lot better’n ‘and then everything kinda exploded, ma’am’, so at least when we get back she can only be so mad,” Fiona chattered, still looking on the bright side and trying to keep the engineer distracted with her usual patter.

"Pulled the interface chip from the waste reclamation pathway circuitry. It can be used to reroute power to your HUD." Gavarus plugged the circuit panel back into place on O'Dell's helmet. With a click, the circuit began to hum.

"So, if you have to take a piss, I'd hold it in." After a second, there was a flicker as O'Dell's EVA suit hummed back to life and the visor began to give off a slight glow to replace the torch for illumination.

“Way too late fuir that, I emptied meself doing the St. Elmo’s Fire jig when the feedback surge came through the controls,” the impish astronaut joked, although it was the truth. Right now she was grateful no one else could smell her, particularly her Tellarite partner in crime, whose nose tended to be sensitive to such odors.

"There we go. You've got internal power running again. No computer linkage as your control is fused, but life support should be stable, so you'll live to annoy me another day." Gavarus let out a sigh.

“Let it nivver be said ye’re only good fuir shade,” the pilot declared trying to needle Gavarus to keep her mind off the situation. “So what’s next? How kin we rig her to run? What do we have ta do?”

"Well... first thing I need to do is get my suit's systems up an running. If my on board computer is fried too, then we're just whistling in the dark, here." Briaar replied, flumping back in her seat.

Reaching up with her thick, three fingered hand, she gently popped the control panel out of the side of her own helmet. Using the glow from the pixie pilots helmet's internal lighting, Gavarus began reworking the fused pathways to get her system active again.

"So, you... 'escaped' Mariposa? That sounds needlessly dramatic." Gavarus started talking to hope and distract from the task ahead as she worked.

“Weeeellllll… I may have been a tad dramatic aboot it,” O’Dell admitted, watching Gavarus work intently while she relayed her tale, still holding the light as best she could to help. “All me brothers went off to marry, and as I was growing up, it was pretty evident I was the runt of the litter. By the time the other girls were blossomin’, I was still joost a wee thing. Turns out I had a hormone deficiency, nobody ever thought to check. S'a form a' dwarfism. Least I didn't get a webby neck or weird ears. Technically I'm a dwarf, but I prefer 'little person'. By the time the other girls were headed off to find themselves a bonny lad, I was still built like a 10 year old boy, and aboot the same size. So most wanted nae to do wi’me, and the ones who did… well, ye dinna want to be spendin time wi’fellas what get turned on by the likes a’me.”

Scrunching her face while she listened, Gavarus was annoyed. She and O'Dell insulted each other playfully, but the young Engineer found herself unexpectedly upset listening to O'Dell put herself down.

“So, I joined Starfleet. They said it’s always easier ta have smaller pilots so they fit in the cockpit, but it’s… well, I dinna have any advantage bein wee, that’s fer sure. But I made it in and I made it through flight school and I made it to the fleet, so here I am, livin’ the dream, aye?” The petite pilot started to try to do jazz hands, winced in pain and regret for the action, then she turned the question around.

“What aboot ye? No great strapping hunk of pork on yuir planet ta keep ye tied down?”

"No." Gavarus replied brusquely as she worked. "Everyone that showed even a little bit of interest was an idiot."

“Aye, that sounds familiar enuff,” O’Dell agreed.

Holding up the circuit board to the light, Gavarus smiled a bit. "And I can't stand idiots. So, Starfleet seemed like the place to go to reduce the ratio of idiots I'd have to suffer. There we go. Let's see how this works."

“Seems that idiot ratio’s workin for ye, aye?” The Mariposian pilot knew that the Tellarite had a low threshold for fools, and did not suffer them gladly- present company excluded.

The young Engineer pushed the board back in place and locked it down and waited. "Remember? Nine brothers and seven sisters at home. I couldn't get away from that nightmare fast enough."

Quickly, the systems rebooted and Gavarus' suit was alive again. Relaxing for a second, she took a long, deep breath. "My HUD is up and my system is... Yes! Working. Full sensor readings, including the flight recorder. We DID hit a quantum filament. Took out the ships electrical systems with concentrated EM bursts."

Suddenly, her tone shifted from excited right back to a deflated anxiety. "Shhhhiiiittt."

“That dinna sound good. Did ye poop yuir suit? Did the lieutenant already find us and she’s pissed? What’s wrong now?” The portable pilot’s heart sank at the words, but she was determined not to paint the situation worse than it already was.

"We're not falling towards an asteroid field, we're already in it." Gavarus pointed towards the steadily advancing chunks of rock ahead of them. "Those are the babies. We're well and truly surrounded, so I'm going to have to rewire the ships power to use my EVA systems as the circuit and my HUD as the interface. Which means... Ugh... Going out there."

Going pale, Gavarus gulped loudly. "I can get the systems running and reroute power to the helm, but I have to do so on the o... outside of the ship."

“Well, that’s nae so…” O’Dell began, then she stopped, eyeing her porcine partner. In a conspiratorial whisper, the midget Mariposian asked. “Are you… nae soo fond of EVA, Gavarus?”

At which her tension finally popped, "What's to be FOND of, O'Dell?! Floating around with zero control where micro-meteors, cosmic rays and an infinity of unknown particles can kill you instantly? Looking into the void through a sheet of transparent aluminum a centimeter thick that would boil you where you floated with the smallest crack? Freezing to death if your EVA suit malfunctions?!"

Snorting out an awkward laugh, Gavarus finished her rant. "No, not fond of it at all. Nope... not a bit."

“But… ye work in space…?” O’Dell replied, still a bit confused.

"In a space SHIP!" Gavarus replied, frenetically. "I don't work IN space. I work on a massive ass ship with huge, thick walls and multiple layers of force fields and pretty carpeting to not make you remember how close you are to DEATH!"

"That's what my parents said..." Gavarus took on a forced, sing song intonation as she spoke. "Oh, Bre Bre. You'll come running back the first time you hear a deckplate creak."

As she continued, her tone shifted from panic back to anger. "Well, this is one hell of a CREEK, isn't it! But I'm an engineer! I specialize in flight systems! Where the hell ELSE was I going to go! This is my shit! This is what I do! BUCKLE YOUR ASS BACK DOWN, FIONA!! I'm going the hell out there!!!"

A hero would have known what to say and what to do to calm the frightened engineer, and motivate her to embolden her for the task. But Fiona O’Dell was no hero- she was a newly-promoted test pilot who was in a tremendous amount of pain, whose heart had skipped a few beats already today. A test pilot who was very afraid that the electrical surge she had suffered might have irreparably damaged her hands, taking away the one glimmer of something good in her life, which might be measured in a few more hours at this point, given their dire circumstances. Trapped out here in a desperate situation with seemingly no hope, yelled at by her best friend, she faced a simple choice- fight or flight.

“Well if’n yuir so ascared of the great beyond, then I’m goin witchye,” she yelled back, her own voice a squeaky piercing that carried no threat, and if anything sounded a bit comical with her rolling brogue kicking in full force. “Ye kin strap me to yuir back and I can hold tools and help and we’ll git oota here tagether or nae a’tall. And that’s what’s goin’ ta happen, so doan ye be tellin me ta buckle me arse down ya dunderheaded goabashite!”

Locking the tool kit down and fixing it magnetically in place, Gavarus tugged on her own safety belt and yelled back at O'Dell, "There's still residual atmosphere in the cockpit, so I need you to buckle down or you'll be blown out when I pop the canopy!! It's a SAFETY PRECAUTION!!"

“Fine. FOINE! I’ll strap meself back down so’s I wilna bloow oot inta space and leave ye here stranded wi’ noo way ta navigate!” Fiona yelled back, wriggling back over the top of her seat to start fighting with the seat harness.

At which, Gavarus scrunched back in her seat and knitted her eyebrows as she put her hand on the hatch release and half-whispered to her friend. "Oh my gods, I'm going to soil myself, Fiona. Are you secure?"

“Nae, Ah’m… m’workin’ on it, joost… straps are all tangled, I’ll git it…” Under ordinary circumstances handling the big straps and buckles tended to present a challenge to the small hands of the dwarf-sized dynamo. Fried, twitchy, partially melted and unwilling to move doll-sized hands much made it that much more difficult for her, and she fought to try to get the straps over and around her then fit the buckles into the clasp. It took her a long few minutes to perform a task she could ordinarily wrestle through in her sleep. But today was no ordinary day, and this wasn’t sitting on the flight deck.

When she finished, the little flyer was panting, out of both pain and exertion. “Okay… alreet, I’m buckled in. S’gonna be… s’gonna be okay, Gavarus. I’ll be… I’ll be right here witchye, alreet? Yuir nae goin’ alone. I’m right here ta back ye up, aye?”

Now actively showing her anxiety, Briaar Gavarus's voice dropped to a low gravel. "I... I'll need you here. Letting me know if what I'm doing is working. The first thing I'm going to try and do is reconnect power to helm control, so I need you at the helm. That's how you'll be with me, okay?"

It was clear that the thickly-built Tellarite was terrified, but trying to marshal her courage as she spoke. "I can... I can do this, right?"

“Ye can. Ye kin do this, and I will nae let innything happen to ye,” O’Dell promised, as ludicrous as it seemed for her to say. What was she going to do, gnaw space off at the ankles? “We git oota this together or nae at all. So aye, ye can. Joost remember, one hand for the ship, one hand for ye. Always be thethered. And ye kin attach a line to me too, aye? Because I will nae let ye get away. Yuir me mechanic, and someone has to take the blame fuir alla this wreckage, aye?”

"R... Right... okay. We're both buckled in. Tool kit is secured. Asteroids getting too damn close. Tether... Tether, where's the damn..." As Gavarus fumbled around her EVA suit, her HUD called up the information as she called for it, showing her a schematic of her suit and a retractable tether on her right hip.

"Tether... Got it." She attached the cable to the latch on the edge of the cockpit rim. "Okay. Opening the canopy in three... two... one..."

There was a momentary pause as Gavarus's hand was frozen in place, unmoved as she sat, trying to work up the nerve to actually do it.

“Ye kin do it, Gavarus,” the chirpy voice of the shrimp in the front seat said, trying to encourage the big woman to push past her fear. “Ship’ll be here, I’ll be here. It’s alreet ta be scared. I’m bluiddy terrified. But ye have ta fix us if we’re nae to die here, and I believe in ye. Please, Briaar?”

Taking a deep breath, Gavarus girded herself as she gripped the handle tight. "Okay. Fine. Let's do this then." With a click, she turned the handle.there was a pop and a hiss as the canopy raised and the remaining atmosphere hissed away.

"Well. The atmospheric seals totally work. Heh." Gavarus chuckled awkwardly as she began biting her lower lip. The Cherry Bomb began to drift down from it's prior course, moved by the venting air.

"Okay... Here I go." Which her hands shaking like crazy, Briaar fumbled to release her harness would a click the vibrated through the EVA suit. Immediately she began to hover off of her seat up towards the stars. "Oooh... I'm going to vomit."

"Ye vomit ye swim in it. S'like a bloody rainforest in me helmet from all me blubberin, but that's nae puke..." the tiny twerp thought about it, and her own fear finally got the best of her, and she started yelling at her compatriot. "Suck it oop, ye great chicken-livered swine! Ye dinna hae time fur alla this distraction! Look at the ship! Don't pay you no mind to them rocks gettin closer alla time, doan look at the vastness of space, look at the bluiddy ship and fix the bluiddy ship or yuir wee upset tummy is g'win ta be the least a'yuir problems! Git oot there, noow!"

Crawling slowly out of the Runabout, Gavarus activated the gravity boots of her EVA suit and took a hesitant step onto the exterior hull of the Cherry Bomb. "V... Very inspirational. Ooohhh my gods..."

Pulling the tool box out, Gavarus slowly clomped to the rear of the Cyclone and unlocked the rear panel to show the ships engine. "Okay... This... This isn't that bad. The core... The core is intact."

Taking a breath, the shuddering engineer pulled the retractable cables from her arm mounted computer and plugged them into the engine casings and called up a diagnostic. "O... Okay. Main power coupling is fused. I can re re-route that through the ships secondary... No. That will overload the eps taps and..."

As Gavarus worked, a small chunk of rock floated slowly past her face and she jumped back, almost jerking free of the Cyclone. "AAAAHH!! UH.."

"Wha? What is it?!?" In the cockpit, O'Dell struggled to free herself from the flight harness she's just spent five minutes getting into.

After a few seconds, Gavarus pulled herself back to the engine, wincing slightly. "Ah hells... Really wish the waste reclamation system was working. Damn."

In the pilot's seat, the terrified picayune pilot tore and tugged at her restraints until a hissing began between two of her knuckles, and an alarm went off in her suit. Scrabbling at her suit, she pulled out the patch kit, fumbled it, grabbed it with both hands and a whimper of pain, then reeled it back into herself. Fumbling to work the patch kit with her crispy fingers, O'Dell muttered to herself.

"Shut oop, shut oop, stop it wi'yuir bawlin or yuir g'win ta drown yuirself in yuir helmet ye daft cow. Joost do the thing. That's all, joost do the thing and yuir suit won't leak out and ye get to live a few minutes more I dowanna die I dowanna die oh lord jaysis I dowanna die." She didn't want to be broadcasting either, yet as she patched the leak in her glove, the panicked pilot was babbling, the situation far more than she was prepared to handle.

"I'm okay, Fiona! I just got freaked out. I'm okay. Everything is okay! We're gonna be FINE!" Gavarus called out from the rear of the ship. She could hear O'Dell over the comm but couldn't disconnect yet.

"I'm almost done. I think I've got it...figured... out." Gavarus looked up to see a massive asteroid slowly rolling down towards their position. On her HUD, the computer tracked it's ETA at sixty seven seconds to impact.

Looking back, the terrified engineer began scrambling to finish re-routing the power to helm control. Half the Cyclone's circuitry was fried and it was a frantic race to complete a direct connection that wouldn't short out under the required power. With thirty seconds to go, the engine hummed back to life as the ships exterior lights kicked back on. "I... I think that's it, Fiona! Is... Is the helm active? Is there power up there?!"

"Aye... aye, there's power! There's no computer boot it's nae shorting oot either, ye bypassed it. So..." Shaking her head to streak the tears that were accumulated in her helmet out of her line of sight of the HUD, O'Dell flipped through the menus looking for where her jack port was located on the suit, then realized it was fried, as the engineer had mentioned earlier.

"I've nut all to do wi'it, but she's got power." Studying the stars ahead, astrogation in your head wasn't the easiest task. But they were probably still somewhere in the Kabul system. "Trill is over there, Cardassia is over... there? There... which means Bajor is there... mayyyyybe? So Kabul 3.5 is likely there, which at warp 2 would get us there in twenty two minutes... maximum warp of the Scorpion is eight for 8 hours, so half that for safety is warp four, which cuts down travel time to 5.5 minutes But warp three would be a safer play, travel time 11 minutes."

"Okay. Alreet, we kin do this! Punch in the coordinates on a timer to give ye a chance to get back in the ship, aye? 185 mark 47, warp 3, 11 minutes."

As O'Dell was taking, Gavarus was scrambling to disconnect from the ships engine and seal back up the side of the ship. Once complete, she grabbed her tool kit and rushed back into the cockpit, panting. "Okay, Go! Gogogogogogogogo!!"

Scrambling to plug the a/v leads into the port by her seat, Gavarus was in a mild panic as she linked her suit's computer to replace the ship's. With a chirp, the proximity alarm went off.

=^= Impact in 10 seconds. =^=

On the newly restored screens, the feed from Gavarus' sensors revealed the asteroid right on to of them as the frantic engineer slammed the canopy shut, still unbuckled in her seat.

"I CANNA GO, YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO SET-" O'Dell squealed from the front seat, even as the stars smeared around them, and the little ship went to warp as both women screamed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGHH!!!!"

Said screams changed to hysterical laughter and shouts of triumph as it sank in that they were liable to survive.

"Ye did it! Oh, ye great bundle of bad attitude and back bacon, ye did it! Ye saved us! I could kiss ye!" O'Dell hysterically laughed from the front seat, emotionally wrung out but relieved.

"Well then, let's all be happy we're wearing helmets!" Gavarus snorted a laugh as she released her death grip on the seat ever so slightly. As she did, her comm system chirped through the ships restored computer connection.

"...une to Cherry Bomb, Runabout Selune to Cherry Bomb, do you read?!" Came the voice of Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox.

"This... this is Cheery Bomb! Cherry Bomb!" O'Dell scrambled to work her comm unit, which was picking up the signal from the Cyclone's transmitter. The computer was still trashed, but the interactive technologies were designed to work together, which enabled the suit comms to control and interact with the transmitter. "We read ye! Aye ma'am, we're here! We're takin' a blind warp hop to the following coordinates... we had a wee bit of mishap and hit a space pothole, and saints alive is it good to hear yuir voice, Lieutenant!"

After a brief moment of comm lag, Dox replied. "Good to hear you, too. Miss. O'Dell. I trust your Engineer is still with you?"

"Aye, Lieutenant. We're still... essentially... in one piece. Looks like we may have hit a quantum filament at warp and blew most of the systems. Ensign O'Dell is going to require Medical assistance ASAP, but we're still here," Gavarus called back over the comm.

"We're en route to the co-ordinates now. Evac and medical standing by. We've had every Runabout and shuttle out sweeping the quadrant for you two. Very good to hear your voices. Dox out."

As the comm went silent, Gavarus slumped back in her seat and sighed. "We're not dead. I can't believe we're not dead."

“We’re nae dead because you saved us, aye? Ye got oot there and fixed the engine and got her some instructions so we could not end up splattered like a boog on a windshield. I’m g’win ta put ye in fuir a bluiddy medal, Gavarus,” the pipsqueak pilot chirped from the front seat.

Rolling her eyes from the back seat, Gavarus shifted in her suit, feeling the warm wetness still present. "I don't think engineers who piss themselves in their space suits because a rock floated by... I don't think they give out medals for that, Leprechaun. I'm just happy to be not dead."

"And... ew... I'll be happier to be dry. Ugh... it went down into my boots." Gavarus groaned from the rear of the cockpit.

“Ahhh, I been sittin in me own bastin’ since we wrecked, so I promise not to tell innyone if you don’t. At least it han’t foated back oop, aye?” With rescue on the horizon, the good cheer that was her hallmark was rapidly returning to the diminutive doll. “Yuir secret’s safe with me, ye great leviathan.”

"Fine with me." Gavarus grunted, uncomfortably. "We will live to hide our mutual shame. And speaking of 'mutual', don't think you're getting out of this. If it wasn't for you we wouldn't be here, either. You charted our course without the computer, looking at the god damned stars and flew us out without your hands AND talked me off the proverbial ledge."

“I guess it wasn’t the stupidest idea that’s ever crossed me mind,” the starfaring sprite agreed. After a slight pause, she added, “We make a pretty good team, aye? Thanks for… thanks for believin' in me, aye?”

From the rear, Briaar Gavarus sighed audibly. "You're quite welcome. And... Ya'know... thank you for... for... well, you know!" She was clearly having an emotional moment herself, but preferred to express that as irritation.

"Just... No hugs." The irascible Tellarite added, "At least until we're no longer... marinating. Ugh "

With the duo of errant test pilots rescued and recovered, they were brought aboard, where both very politely requested to remain in their EVA suits until they got to sickbay. As both were still currently swamped in their own waste, neither really wanted to live it down on the flight deck, nor in decontamination. Plus, one look at O’Dell’s injuries and the flight crew medic insisted she be taken to Sickbay to remove her half-melted gloves, which had been fried by the electrical surge that had racked the small craft.

It had been a quiet day in Sickbay so far. Doctor Asa Dael was reviewing a birth plan with the two primary nurses assigned to the delivery when the two pilots came into Sickbay. They appeared unsteady on their feet, and Asa couldn’t help but wonder what their EVA suits hid. Jogging over towards them, the doctor directed Ensign O’Dell to bed 3 and Ensign Gavarus to bed 4, drawing a privacy screen around the duo.

“OK, so, before I start peeling off suits and potentially causing more damage, I’m hooking into the readouts on your suits to get an idea of what’s going on. While I’m doing that, would one of you like to describe what happened?” the doctor inquired.

Before they could respond, Mona came in, worried and fluttering like a bird over the two. "Oh my goodness! You two are lucky to be alive! Doctor, are they going to be ok? No, wait, I'll be quiet. If you need any help, just let me know." Reading the situation a bit better, she calmed down and composed herself.

Sitting uncomfortably on bed 4, Ensign Briaar Gavarus fidgeted in the EVA suit she desperately didn't want anyone to know she had peed in. Still, the generally irritable Tellarite was more worried over her friend in the other bed. "I'm fine. Nothing really happened to me, so just make focus on O'Dell, really."

The protest was somewhat weaker than her usual complaints as her attention was split. "But... we were taking the Cyclone for the scheduled warp test, on the assigned route, when we hit what the sensors reported as a quantum filament. We lost all power and fell out of warp..."

Nodding understanding, and seeing nothing urgent on Gavarus’ display, the doctor could also hazard a guess as to the reason she was still in her suit. Those medical sensors really did record full vitals- including fluid amounts. Not wanting to embarrass her, Asa hatched a plan.

“Ok Ensign, please go to medical suite 1 and change into a spare uniform. Feel free to use the replicator and the shower if you like. I know a burst of hot water always makes me feel better after a shock, I’m willing to bet it will help you too. Once you are dressed, please return so I can give you a full exam. Hit the call button if you need anything, ok?”

"Uh..." was all Briaar Gavarus muttered out as she shuffled to her feet, watching O'Dell in the other bed. "Aye... Aye, Doctor." Reluctantly, she clomped out to medical suite 1 as requested, looking back over her shoulders as she went.

Turning to O’Dell, Asa saw the melted ruins of her gloves.

“I’m going to have to take these off, and it’s going to hurt. A lot. So first things first, I’m going to deliver a sensory blocker through your suits med-port. You may feel dizzy or disoriented, and your spatial processing is going be well, wonky, for lack of a better word. You ready to proceed?” Asa’s tone was professional but caring, they would save O’Dell from what embarrassment they could also, but taking care of her electrical burns would need to come first.

“Aye, Doctor. When we hit whativvir it was, it caused a feedback surge that arced from the point of contact through the flight control yoke, up one arm and down the other, and out into the ship’s computer, and everything in between got a wee bit crispy fried,” O’Dell reported. “Me gloves sealed it oop, but it, ah, it hurts all through and… “

Holding out her gloved hands, the hard points showed considerable scoring, and a few of the fingers of the gloves were fused together. When she picked her arms up, the pilot winced, clearly trying to be stoic about the pain as her fingers twitched and the left hand spasmed a bit. The armor’s self-sealant was evident in both palms, as well as a patch on the left hand that had been applied in addition to the self-sealant.

“I’ll be able to play the harpsichord agin, aye?” she asked, trying to make a joke to make light of the damage. “And, as I’m sure ye kin tell, I could really use a decon shower too. I, uh, didn’t do so good when it all hit me…”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t have a reaction, Ensign,” Asa said in a consoling tone. “Let’s get you patched up first, then you can shower away.”

Removing the glove proved a bit difficult as the sealant was reluctant to release its hold, and parts of the glove were melted to her skin and took off the top layer of skin or two in the process. After a bit of finagling, Asa had cut off the top half of Ensign O’Dell’s armor and was carefully maintaining a neutral professional face as they inspected the damage.

For her part, O’Dell tried to be stoic, but failed rather spectacularly. Tears flowed freely and even through gritted teeth she whined and cried out on more than a few occasions. The more she saw of her hands as they were slowly extricated from the ruined gloves, the harder she cried despite her efforts to comport herself as an officer.

The lightning patterns crisscrossing her skin spoke of high voltage electrical contact, and created a web of pain over O’Dell’s arms and chest. The hand that bore the brunt of the current’s exit from the body showed extensive nerve damage and a hole piercing through the palm of her still-spasming left hand. After glancing at O’Dell’s cardiac pattern, Asa administered additional pain blockers and cardiac stabilizers. The doctor then applied biomimetic gel to stimulate growth of tissues in conjunction with the tissue knitter they were already preparing while the gel dried.

As the whirring of the dermal regenerator worked in Asa’s hand sounded, the doctor asked, “Are you having any difficulty breathing? What is your pain level on a scale of 1-10?”

“Me breathin’s okay, sir. Joost… it hurts a fair bit. It was aboot an 8, now tis aboot a 6 maybe? Me arms hurt, me chest hurts, me head hurts and I’m cold and wet and I smell godawful. But I’m g’win ta be okay, right? Ye can patch me oop, right?” There was a none-too-subtle hint of desperation in the puny pilot’s voice, though she was trying to be positive.

From the other room, Gavarus came rushing out at the sounds of O'Dell's pain, still trying to tug the spare uniform down over middle her as she stumbled slightly. "What's going on?! Are you going to be okay, O'Dell? Why is she, Oh my gods, What the HELL!?"

“Aye, Ensign, you are going to be ok,” Asa said soothingly. “A 6 is still a lot of pain, let’s see what we can do about that before we continue, ok? I’m going to heal the skin on your back first so you can lie back. When you feel me direct you to do so, please recline- but not until then.”

Facing a panicked Gavarus, Asa said smoothly, “She’s going to be fine, we are working on it now. Stand with Ensign Gonadie please, I’ll be with you shortly.”

“It’s okay, I’m okay… joost… I’m joost, ye know, being a big baby aboot it, that’s all. The Doc’s got me,” the tremulous voice that came out of O’Dell as she tried to reassure her fellow survivor wasn’t terribly convincing, but she made the effort and even summoned up a smile that didn’t last.

After grabbing a nearby numbing wipe, Asa gently wiped it across O’Dell’s back, removing any particulates as they went and numbing the skin against the healing process to come. The combination of nerve and dermal regeneration at the same time was often uncomfortable, but Asa endeavored to minimize that as much as possible. The electrical burns were not as intense across O’Dell’s trunk, but Asa was still glad to have them healed before the Ensign went to lay down.

“Ok, lay back for me now please,” Asa said softly, guiding O’Dell’s head to the correct position on the biobed. The movement sparked an increase in blood pressure and respiration, signaling the movement was still painful.

“I’m going to administer a more heavy duty painkiller now. This one also has a muscle relaxer and anti-spasmodic effect, so you are going to feel like you are made of jelly. No need to fear, that’s all part of the process, ok?” Asa said, preparing the injection in a series of easy movements.

Turning to take in the rest of the room, Asa said to Mona and Briaar, “Shoo for a moment, ok? It’s time for a bit of privacy here, but I promise to come back to you as soon as I can.”

For her part, the anxious engineer looked over at Ensign Gonadie, then back at Doctor Dael then over the O'Dell in a mild panic she was trying to contain. "Uh... um... yeah... uh... aye." Gavarus stuttered, as she stepped back.

“I’m in good hands, ye great lummox. The Doc’ll fix me oop right as raid, nivvir ye fret!” the pint-sized pilot chirped, forming her cooked digits into as good a thumbs-up as she could manage under the circumstances.

"Right, Doc?" the wee redhead asked under her breath.

"Right," Asa said with a smile.

Mona nodded and motioned for Gavarus to follow her over to one of the biobeds. "Don't worry, Doctor Dael is the best in Starfleet. Now, I might not be a medic, but I've gotten a fair bit of practice with a tricorder and various regenerators if you don't mind me looking you over while they're busy."

Rolling her eyes, Gavarus was irritated by the undue attention but relented with a sigh. "Fine, but I'm telling you, I'm fine."

Then facing O’Dell, “I’m drawing the privacy screen now. No one is going to be able to see around this biobed. I am removing the rest of your armor and I’m going to use the numbing wipes to clean you off so we can complete treatment. I know your instincts are to be embarrassed, but please don’t be. It’s just me, and part of medical training is seeing everything firsthand, and bodily fluids are part of everything. I do need to make your skin sterile though, and this is the most expedient way. Ready?”

Blushing deeply, already embarrassed to have been exposed as much as she had been, the miniature Mariposian nodded. The asexual doctor was built not dissimilarly to her, and between that and the frail physician’s reassurances, O’Dell felt secure with them, particularly now that it was just the two of them. “Aye Lieutenant. Whativvir ye say.”

Offering a smile and pat of reassurance, Asa set about removing the ruined armor and sanitizing and healing the burns on O’Dell’s skin. As the dermal regenerator clicked off, Asa withdrew a gown from the storage drawer of the biobed and helped the ensign drape it across their exposed underdeveloped form. They gathered the ruined armor in a heap and wrapped it in a sheet, depositing the lot in the nearby matter reclamator along with the used numbing wipes.

There, no evidence of any embarrassment left for friends waiting to see her to see Asa thought.

“OK, it should hurt less to be touched now, so I’m going to set about correcting the nerve damage. You also have a few fractures along your ribs that we are going to set to right. Before we begin, any peculiar sensations or tastes?”

“Mmmm all good, Doctor. Daaaaahhctor… doctorrrr… thas a funny word, aye?” the pixie pilot grinned ear to ear as she lay down, wincing slightly but clearly feeling relatively no pain, as her low body weight had been easily overcome by the more aggressive painkiller. Lying back, she began to ramble as the doctor went to work on her injuries. “She saved me life oot there y’know. Ensign Gavarus. She’s a big scary looking spalleen, boot she’s got a heart a’gold that one. She’s m’friend…”

“Friends are good. OK, so pain level negative seventy trillion, let’s let your friends in before they have an apoplexy,” Asa said cheerily.

Dropping the privacy screen, Asa turned to the other two, “Ladies, if you would care to join us, I was just about to begin regenerating nerves and healing bones. But Ensign O’Dell is feeling just fine, better than fine actually, if you would like to go first Ensign Gavarus?”

The anxious Tellarite barely needed approval as she nodded frantically and stepped quickly to the side of the bed. "O'Dell? How are you doing? The Doctor says they gave you the good stuff?"

The pale white face surrounded by the mass of even frizzier than normal curls post-electrocution lit up at the sight of the big Tellarite woman. “Briarrrrr! Brrrrriarrrrr… thas funny because yuir like a briar patch, all thorny an’ prickly.” The diminutive drugged dame was clearly feeling no pain.

Stifling a snorted laugh, Briar bit her lip. "Yeah. That's the good stuff, alright. I should have told them you get drunk off of synthehol."

“So I need ta… I naad ta tell ya something, aye?” Noting the somewhat bemused expression on the face of the titanic Tellarite, the munchkin maiden frowned a bit. “Now doan, doan be lookin at me like that ya great beastie, or I’ll climb up there ta give ya an earful. But I’m bein sher- I’m being sherioush. Your my fren, Briarrrrrr. Yer me bes’ fren, an ye saved me life oot there. If it’d been joost me oot there I’da died alone in the black an’ they might never’a found me. But ye saved me, cuz we’re friends an I love yeh, ye great duine mor stook...”

It was clear that she was reaching by the last bit, as that definitely wasn’t Federation standard.

"I caught maybe twenty percent of that, Fiona. But I'm not about to let you die so you get out of getting chewed out by Lieutenant Dox. Look, nobody else on this ship will put up with me, Leprechaun..." Her voice cracked somewhat unexpectedly, feeling somewhat overwhelmed in the moment, "So you're stuck with me, like it or not." Gavarus had the broadest smile it was possible to have with her thick, pig-like jowls.

“An yuir stuck wi’ me, ya grumpy oversized leviathan of an engineer, cuz no one else wants a pilot who needs a booster seat for a pal. Hee hee! Thas a funny but isss true, Ah do need one. Doc’s fixin me all oop, me hands dinna hurt n’more…” Looking at the raged hole in her palm, Fiona’s eyes opened wide again. “That’s prolyl fuir the best… hey!” Hey hey hey! This’s important.”

"Have I gone anywhere? Talk to me. What's wrong?" Gavarus replied.

“Y’have to tell Chief Gonadie that the de-cen-tra… luh-zation of the critical systems is essential, we found oot in testing. Cuz if the main computer blows she’s like a country boy- all bull an’ nae brains,” It was abundantly clear that while it might have been pertinent, the tiny test pilot’s priorities were not currently firing on all cylinders. “So you gotta tell her that. S’super important, cuz s’a design flaw that near got us killed, so she’ll want to know. S’nae her fault, she dinna build it all, but she needs ta know. She won’t be mad, she’ll wanna know. So you gotta tell her, in case I dinna make it. Aye? Aye? Aye?”

"Fiona, she's right here. She hears you. It's all good." Gavarus nodded.

Mona pulled out a small PaDD and jotted down some notes, mumbling to herself. Move the planned triple redundant power system upgrade up on the schedule... reinforce that... rewire those... remove more Romulan leftovers..."

“No one is dying today, and everyone is going to have plenty of opportunities to profess their undying love later…“ Asa said patiently with a smile, “But for now, let’s get those nervous systems functioning again so we can get O’Dell here off the pain meds.”

Nodding, Gavarus stepped back away from the table to let the doctor work, grinding her teeth slightly in her frustration of being useless in the moment.

They set about regenerating nerves, healing fractured bones, and resetting the delicate neuro-electrical balance in the ensign’s body. Soon enough the spasms in her hand had stopped and she was no longer in danger of neuralgia. The adrenaline that had flooded O’Dell’s system was back to normal parameters, and the risk of shock had passed. All that was left to do for the little sprite was rest.

“That should do it,” Asa said brightly, “You will need to come back in 48 hours to have your reflexes tested, but you should be just fine, it’s just a precaution. I want you on light duty for the next 2 days also. Your body has been through a lot, and it needs time to rest to get you back to 100%. I also want to know about any issues with sleeping, eating, or flashbacks to the event, understood?”

The pipsqueak pilot nodded solemnly, still clearly stoned on pain meds, but she flexed her hands experimentally. Seeing them respond and feeling no pain, she hugged the petite physician who was still bigger than she was. "Thank you, Doctor," she whispered in the physician's ear. Protocol clearly wasn't high on her priority list at the moment. "Ye saved me hands, ye saved me life. I'll ne'er forget this."

Returning the hug gently, Asa said, “I sincerely believe you will not remember most of this, but you are welcome. Piano will be excellent physical therapy for you by the way, I look forward to hearing you play.”

After slowly extricating themself from Ensign O’Dell, Asa began to scan the looming figure of Ensign Gavarus.

“You seem….better than expected, honestly. How are you feeling?” they inquired.

Still focused on O'Dell, Briaar peered over Doctor Dael's shoulder as they talked. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine. I said I was fine and I'm fine. I took some of the power feedback, but it was much less then her's and my suit absorbed it. I'm fine. Thick skinned and all. She's going to be okay, though?"

“She’s going to be fine,” Asa replied smoothly, “You can go sit with her now, if you like. But I warn you…the pain meds won’t wear off for another 4-6 hours- perhaps longer considering her size. She will likely be quite, um, friendly? Until they do. Same orders for you, by the way, check reflexes in 48 hours, and I need to know immediately about any sleep or eating issues, or flashbacks to the event, aye?”

"Yes, Doctor. I will, all right?" Briaar was letting her frustration get the better of her and she was getting snappy.

"Doan ye be snarly ta the nice doctor who patched me oop or I'll gnaw off yuir kneecaps!" the stoned sprite threatened, sliding slowly off the biobed, toes probing to seek a ladder or step that normal people would not need. As gravity won out, she landed on her feet, then regained her balance by leaning against the bed. Blowing the mop of bright red curls out of her face, the little leprechaun took a step forward, only to faceplant against the tall Tellarite's hip.

"Ah may need a weeeee little bit'o help getting back to me quarrrrrters..."

Holding O'Dell steady, Gavarus smirked slightly. "Look at it this way, O'Dell. If you DO fall, you won't have far to go. I've got you."

"Um... Sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to... Uh... get 'snarly'." Gavarus tilted her head slightly as she pushed out a strained apology which was something she was unaccustomed to doing.

“No need to apologize,” Asa said, smiling in amusement at the pair, “I get snarly to protect people I care about too. Just be sure to take care of yourself too, ok?”

Mona chuckled softly as she finished making notes and tucked the PaDD away. "Thank you, Doctor. Do you mind letting me know when they're both cleared for duty? It seems we have a lot of work to do on the Cyclones and I'd rather do it with these two lovebirds."

"We're joost good friends!" the pocket-sized pilot protested, her brogue thickening. "People kin be that, channow. Joost good friends." Patting at the large three-fingered hand on her shoulder holding her up that was bigger than her head, O'Dell smiled beatifically as she leaned into it. "Ah do loove ya, tho. Yuir mah beeeeeest frien."

"Oh, for the love of... I'm going to have to carry your tiny ass, aren't I?" Gavarus smirked as O'Dell leaned against her.
"C'mon, Leprechaun. Let's get you to bed."

"If Ah had inny dignity left, I'd be right mortified," the lightweight lass mused as she was toted like luggage.

"There's always sensor logs... I'll show you when you're sober."

After being literally carried to her quarters like mop-headed luggage, Ensign Fiona O’Dell did not want to be left alone, and begged her friend to stay to keep her company.

In some corner of her brain she might have realized that her friend and partner was likely just as traumatized by their harrowing near-death experience as she herself was. In the forefront though, the experience had rattled her deeply, and while she was a grown woman… well, mostly grown… and she was a Starfleet officer and a test pilot no less, she very much did not want to be alone.

In her state of being absolutely crocked on pain meds and muscle relaxers, she was far more prone to be honest, and begged Ensign Briaar Gavarus to stay. While a rationalization might have been more likely had she not been so loopy, in this case it was plainly and simply stated that she very much did not wish to be alone, complete with puppy dog-eyed pleading.

"Oh, for the sake of the Gods, FINE!" the tall Tellarite relented. "Just... put those things back in your skull. You look like a Kandonian Wombat when you do that. It's creepy!"

Having had just flumped the minute Mariposian down on her couch like so much laundry, Gavarus looked around the modest-sized junior officer’s quarters. In one corner rested a tall upright stringed instrument that was nearly as tall as Gavarus herself, with ornate inlay and filigree that was shaped somewhat like the number 7, that looked far too large for the little leprechaun to be capable of playing it.

Beside it was what appeared to be a miniature piano, which also looked surprisingly old and battered, but the wood shone and it was clear that it was cared for lovingly. On the wall hung a violin, and beside a smaller version, with their bows hung beside them. In a case mounted on the wall hung a battered old stringed instrument similar to a violin, but the body of the instrument was shaped more like half a large gourd, and on the coffee table say an odd contraption that looked like a bellows with handles and buttons on either end.

The fore wall was dominated by a framework of wood and slats upon which it looked, if one did not know better, that O’Dell was weaving together a woolen fabric of some sort, in a pattern of green, black and yellow threads to form a plaid pattern. A completed version was draped across the Starfleet issue small quarters couch. Hung on the wall behind the small sofa was what appeared to be a crest of some sort, with a knight’s helm bearing gold and green leaves above a golden shield that bore three upturned crimson crescents over a three-leafed plant of some sort, with the name ‘O’Dell’ inscribed beneath it.



Beyond that there were images on the wall- some old-time photographs, some modern trideo images. Almost all were of a brood of gingers- some old people, wearing simple crude clothing, while some were of large, strapping redheaded lads with a child in front of them, which on closer inspection was, of course, Fiona. A few books lined the shelves as well as images of rolling pastoral hills and a simple sign that read, ‘Kiss me, I’m Mariposian!’ in simple modern font with a four-leafed clover beneath it.

The plaque presented to the little pilot upon graduation from Starfleet Flight School was hung proudly on the wall, next to the doorway, which at eye level for her indicated one Fiona ‘Leprechaun’ O’Dell to have successfully completed the program in 2394, stardate 71243.9.

The room itself smelled of an unusual earthy scent that was undefinable to the sensitive snout of the Tellarite, but a small blooming heather she maintained in a terrarium that appeared to be growing out of a chunk of bog peat was apparently the source of the scent of what would be assumed home for the small pile of semi-conscious pilot that was currently in the same position she’d been dropped into the couch.

"This is so undeniably you, you. But seriously, didn't you just transfer to the ship not too long ago? How the hell did you dig in this fast?" Gavarus asked with a snort of a chuckle.

“I was stationed a’ DS9 fuir two years, so I had lotsa time to get alla me effects and sooch. When I was assigned to the Hera, they joost beamed me goods inta me quarters, I unpacked and they beamed oot the cargo container,” O’Dell replied simply. “Everything’s magnetic, so it all sticks were ye put it, so here I am. What, ye live in a room wi’ nae of yuir life, joost the standard quarters?” The red-tressed moppet still hadn’t moved, but now she was struggling to at least sit up. Making it upright, she flopped against the back of the couch.

"I have... stuff. Just not quite this much of it." The porcine engineer scoffed. As she spoke, she wandered around a bit, running the fingers of her thick, three fingered hands lightly across everything as she did. Exploring with touch, almost.

As she stood at the piano, she tinkled two keys a few times, making a rhythmic high pitched plinking. "I hope for your neighbors sake, the sound proofing works."

“I dinna play that loud, s’not exactly heavy metal, aye? And I’ll have ye know, I’m… nae bad. I dinna think most of these instruments are even played much other than on me homeworld,” O’Dell yawned wide, eyelids drooping a bit. “Twas what the womenfolk did- we played music and learned to loom and cook and sew and alla that rot. Boot I still enjoy it, so I keep up on ‘em. I could play ye a song if’n ye like.”

As she spoke, O’Dell was slowly sliding sideways down onto the couch.

"Wait... 'womenfolk'? Really? Are you sure you didn't come from the past? Because..." As she spoke, Briaar noticed O'Dell's horizontal trajectory. Rolling her eyes, she clomped over and gently propped the still loopy pilot back up.

“I toldye, we were… the Bringloidians were.. we followed the old ways…” O’Dell managed, her batteries clearly having run dry as her eyes fought to stay open and she slid further down on the couch.

"You're still sliding. I need a pillow or something to..." Not seeing enough pillows to properly brace the wobbly pilot, Briaar groaned slightly.

"Seven Hells! It's not like I was going anywhere, anyway." The much larger woman tucked herself on the small couch next to her friend to keep her from sliding, which only half worked as O'Dell proceeded to flump onto Gavarus' pronounced belly.

Curling up beside the warm body of her rough-hewn friend in a manner not unlike a ginger feline, O’Dell murmured, “Sorry… m’joos gonna close me eyes… for a minnit…”

In point of fact, it took less than a minute for the little redhead to be curled up into a rather compact ball, knees tucked up under her chin to take up a surprisingly small space on the couch. While she did not snore, it was clear from her deep steady breathing that she was sound asleep, even though she continued to murmur ever so slightly, yet even more incomprehensibly than when she was awake.

Locked into place on the couch like a sentient pillow, the large Tellarite leaned her head back and groaned as her little friend, feeling safe and protected, slumbered peacefully.

---------------------

Several hours had passed, and Briaar Gavarus' head was leaning back against the wall, with her mouth agape as she let out a long, droning snore. The sound was a dreadful thing, phlegmy and resonant as it sawed on. There was no rhythm to the snore as it skipped and pulsed back and forth, until a particularly loud hoark woke the Tellarite ensign back up.

"Huh? Whazzit?" She blurted out as she readjusted to her surroundings. "O'Dell?"

“Wha? Who? I dinnae do et!” the mass of red curls in the Tellarite’s lap protested, then propped herself up, looking around sleepily. “How’d I get back to me quarters?”

Straightening her neck, the sore muscles from having slept at an odd angle let out a groan of protest as Gavarus winced slightly. "Aagh, dammit. Stupid ass neck. I shouldn't have slept like that."

Looking down at the disheveled Mariposian, Gavarus smirked under her thick jowls. "I carried you back here after Doctor Dael's pain killers knocked you on your teeny tiny ass. It was hilarious and I look forward to calling up the security feed to rewatch it all."

"Feeling any better?" Gavarus added.

Holding up her left hand before her face, marveling at the new pink skin, O’Dell breathed out a sigh of relief. “Aye… me hands... the Doc fixed them. I’m alreet...”

Scooting off the lap of her flight engineer, the petite pilot sat on her knees and eyed the gruff grease monkey. “Ye stayed wi’ me… that’s so sweet, Briaar! Ye made sure I wouldnae be alone, and that I wouldna wake up freaked oot.” A warm smile played across the face of the Mariposian, who wiped away a tear. “That’s joost… begorrah, Briarr, ye great bluiddy beastie. Ye… that was vurrah kind of yeh, especially after ye saved us and all. Yuir a good friend ta me.”

It might have been delivered with her usual sarcasm and teasing, but it was not. In this case it was clear that the wee wonder was genuinely touched, and at a bit of a loss for words.

Gavarus was touched, but kept her snarky facade in place. "Please... you passed out on my lap like a damned cat! I was pinned down. Couldn't have left if I tried."

It was nonsense, of course, as the much larger woman could have easily moved the diminutive O'Dell, but she hoped it served her purpose of trying to not make too big a deal of the evening. "And besides, we saved each other AND the Cyclone. Plus I think we impressed Assistant Chief Gonadie, so that's a win, there."

Taking a long overhead stretch, O’Dell finished it by rubbing her face briskly. “Well, that might make the Lieutenant a little less mad that we kinda blew up her bebeh. I should write that after-action report… ach! Are we on duty today?!?” The puny pilot looked around in panic for a clock, or her commbadge or her uniform as it dawned on her that she was still clad in a hospital gown.

“Wait, ye carried me through the corridors in a backless goown?!?” the freckled face immediately turned bright red with embarrassment. “Where’s me uniform? What time izzit? We canna be late or Lieutenant Dox’ll-“

Holding up her thick fingers to answer Fiona's questions in order as she counted them out, Gavarus smiled slightly. "We are both off duty right now. You are limited duty for two more days. Yes I did, and it was hilarious. Recycled as it was coated in waste along with mine. Oh nine, thirty hours. ANNND, the Lieutenant isn't expecting us. We're covered. I gave our report to Ensign Gonadie. Everything's fine."

The frantic flyer calmed down as her partner ticked off the points, addressing each of her concerns one at a time until she finished, at which point O’Dell gently slugged the stiff-necked amazon on her couch on the shoulder. “Well, if all that’s the case, I should probably get some clothes on. Limited duty prolly means no goin’ ta work, so what do ye want ta do with the time?” Somehow in O’Dell’s mind apparently they were doing something together, as she got up and wobbled a bit unsteadily.

“Limited duty… aye, alreet…” Bracing herself on the arm of the couch, O’Dell held out a reassuring hand to her protective partner. “M’alreet, joost got up a bit too quickly. I’m likely dehydrated, given how bad I need ta piddle.”

Keeping her momentary concern to herself, Briaar replied, "Really? You about filled up that EVA suit? I'm surprised you've got anything left in there? Go, drop a squat and put your big-girl pants on."

“If Ah put on me big girl pants, they’ll joost fall down around me ankles,” the little woman protested as she made her way from surface to surface to steady herself as she made her way across the room. “And dinna ye make fun’a me fer makin a mess! I was electrocuted, I have an excuse! At least I dinna get scared by a rock…” she said as she ducked into the bedroom.

“Make some tea!” she shouted from the other room.

"It was... It was a BIG rock, thank you very much!" Gavarus shouted back. "Now where's her damn... here it is. 'Make some...' okay."

Mumbling to herself, Gavarus leaned over to the replicator. "Computer. Two..." Then she leaned back and shouted again. "What kind of tea?!"

“O’Dell breakfast tea o’course,” Fiona chirped from the other room. "I like mine wi’ two lumps a’sugar, if ye please." A few seconds later, she emerged from the bedroom wearing some grey tights and a kelly green sweatshirt that she was practically swimming in, which was emblazoned with the legend, ‘I’m tall for a leprechaun’. Padding over to the replicator, she shooed the garrulous giantess out of the way.

“Here, let me do it. Ye want some breakfast? I could replicate some bangers and mash if ye like? Cuz I’m starving meself. I could eat a very small cow,” Fiona held her hands a dozen centimeters apart, indicating just how small a cow.

"Do I even want to know what 'bangers and mash' is? It doesn't sound like food." Gavarus joked. "Sounds like two enlisted crewmembers in sanitation."

“Dinna be sooch a snob, ye great truffle sniffer. Don’t tell me yuir secretly a gourmet in yuir spare time when yuir nae on the flight deck?” Producing a pair of steaming earthenware mugs, O’Dell placed them on the coffee table, then went back to the replicator to produce “Two traditional Blongloidian breakfasts. Double portion and single portion.”

The replicator hummed, produced the requested dishes, and the pint-sized pilot carried them to the table to present them with pride. “Here ye go! Stick to yuir ribs food!

Looking down in mild disgust, Gavarus poked the dish with her fork. "Uh... Not a snob... but... uh... I AM a Vegetarian. Is this? Sausage?"

Tilting her head to the side, the pig-like Tellarite raised an eyebrow at her Mariposian friend and chuckled. "Pork? Really?"

“It’s nobody ye know,” O’Dell rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Whaaaaat, it’s all synth protein. We’te all joost matter eatin’ matter. Et’s Good, try it!”

The tiny red-head was right, of course. The 'sausage' wasn't actual sausage. Simply replicated molecules restructured to mimic the real thing. And Gavarus didn't want to alienate herself from O'Dell. She poked the tube with her fork again before cutting off a small piece. She squinted slightly as she took a small bite.

Seconds later, the nearly two meter tall Tellarite squinched her face like a finicky toddler as she tried to politely spit the piece of sausage into her napkin. "Ew... Yeah, nope. Sorry. Not gonna happen, sorry."

Shuddering slightly, Gavarus took a huge swig of her tea to wash the taste out of her mouth.

"Okay, mayyyyyybe pork sausage to a porcine life form was bad form. But now ye kin say ye tried it al least?" Fiona shrugged sheepishly. "The eggs should be alreet, an if noo else the mash an' the beans, noo?" The little stereotype began shoveling mouthfuls of the gross conglomeration with into her mouth with gusto, which seemed able to open surprisingly large. "F'gud!"

Picking around the repulsive sausage concoction, Briaar picked at the beans and potatoes in small bits.

Bounding off the couch perky pilot opened a panel to slide out a rack of PaDDs, rifling through them until she pulled out a few. Skipping back, Fiona flopped back down onto the couch, scooped up another mouthful of beans and ham to shovel into her rapacious maw. "We should look oop the officers- like the Lieutenant said."

"What do you mean?" Gavarus commented with a slightly confused expression.

"I was makin' scuttlebutt aboot Commander Paris an' that museum uniform she wears wi' the wee skirt wi' her big round arse hangin' oot," O'Dell said as she swallowed. "And the fact that the Starfleet insignia on her wee Cyclone is different than the rest of ours, like the one on the Cherry Bomb. 'Course, the Curiosity has one like hers but wi' a basketball on it. Soooo, the Lieutenant said we should read their files, to get to answer these questions ourselves. Alla our service jackets are declassified wi'in the command. So let's answer some questions, aye?"

On top of everything else, it was now nauseatingly clear that O'Dell was a morning person.

Without trying to be too obvious about it, Gavarus leaned away from her 'food' to take one of the PaDD's from O'Dell. It was a welcome distraction. "Ah, right. Okay. So, what does her file say? Dox said Commander Paris has special dispensation. Is that in there?"

"Well I dinna know, I've nae looked yet," the perky pixie replied, hopping up to take both of their plates to the reclamator, despite the fact that she had eaten perhaps a quarter of her own food. "Ye dinna care for it, an' that's alreet. I appreciate that ye tried it, thoogh."

Tossing herself back onto the couch with surprising agility, O'Dell landed on her back with her head on the Tellarite's thigh as she picked up the PaDD from the table to begin tapping at it. "I grew oop with that slop, so 'tis nae a'tall ta me. What do you eat in the morning? Or innytime? If we're g'win ta be friends I need ta know what ta feed ya. I imagine it takes a right lotta food ta keep ye movin."

Smiling and chuckling slightly, Gavarus shook her head a bit. "I have a vegetarian stir fry recipe in the replicator library I'll have to make one day. It's absolutely delicious. Otherwise, it's not that complicated. I'm not vegan, so eggs and dairy are all fine. My breakfast of choice is Belgian waffles drowning in syrup."

"Alreet, I kin manage alla that. Ye want something noow or did I put ye off with HOLY CHRIST ON A CRAP CRACKER!" O'Dell sat up suddenly and showed the PaDD to Gavarus. "The woman's over a century old! What the actual hell?!?"

Rolling her eyes, Gavarus took the PaDD. "I know you're a pilot, so math likely wasn't your... The HELLS?! Born 2233. That makes her... 163?!"

Knitting her eyebrows, Gavarus shrugged. "Which means that that would be the uniform from when she's actually from, I guess. Or when she graduated the academy?"

"Damned if I know. Back then all I remember was those big maroon monsters wi' turtlenecks ye always see Kirk and crew wearin' before Starfleet went ta jumpsuits," O'Dell admitted- after all history wasn't her best subject either. "Meself, I was partial to the black an charcoal ones we had last year, but what're ye g'win ta do. Alreet, let's see here... ahhh, there 'tis. See, seemed silly she'd only be a Commander after alla this time... trans-dimensional chronal incident... alternate self-contained splinter universe bearing alternate timeline... Spock? Nero... sweet mother McCree, the woman's history is as tangled as the leftovers in me hairbrush. Ahhh, Cap'n approved her a special uniform dispensation... hey, lookit that! She's married to the CMO, the Vulcan, wassisname... Sonak? I wonder how THAT works..."

"Well, she's almost always smiling, so I guess it works pretty damn well," Gavarus snickered slightly as she read the file. "It's still weird. Wearing a uniform from over a century ago. Perks of command, I guess."

"Aye. Ye'd think she wouldn't want everyone to know she's a throwback to an age when nacelles were round, but maybe she has a good reason," O'Dell ventured, curling her legs underneath her as she snuggled up to the large Tellarite. "Plus, being married to a cold fish like a Vulcan joost seems like it'd be lonely, aye? But maybe she knows something we don't?"

Now finding herself quite invested in the little fact-finding expedition, Gavarus leaned in closer to O'Dell. "Who else's files do you have?"

"Wahhhhhl, we have 'em all, so let's see... Captain Telvan... Enalia, that's a pretty name... Trill... joined... Artan pirate family? Noo bluiddy way! The captain was a pirate ere she joined Starfleet? How about that... married to a hologram?" Looking up at her companion, the brows of the little leprechaun furrowed. "What is it aboot the marriages on this ship? Seems like everyone's an odd couple?"

With a slight smirk, the tall porcine Tellarite gossiping with the diminutive ginger Mariposian couldn't help but appreciate the irony of that statement. "How do you marry a hologram? Can they not leave the ship on shore leave?"

The natural engineers mind was boggled by the logistics of the scenerio. "I guess, mobile emitters and... nevermind. Go back to the part about her being a PIRATE. How can a Starfleet Captain be a pirate?!"

"Hologram... ookay, Ah'm joost gonna say it. If ye want a wife who's programmable I think that says a bit abootcha. Aye, let's look inta this pirate business... wait, so Artan family fortress... we're docked, right now, at her family's bluiddy pirate fleet private station fortress! Alreet, wassisay here. Kidnapped, father killed in the process, rescued by her younger sister. Ouch. Began running pirate missions for her family, rescued Schwein- whozzat," O'Dell grabbed the other PaDD sitting in Gavarus' lap and shared the current screen on the first tablet with the second, then followed the link.

"See, she's onboard, linked file. Baroness 3rd Class, Artan pirate fleet- oi, here's us a pirate! Lookit this... Raised on a German run Earth colony... secret super soldier program, are ye kiddin me? Colony was wiped out when she was 9, rescued by the Artan Privateers. She's quartered in guest quarters up in officer country- she's listed as the Captain's Adjutant." O'Dell looked Gavarus in the eye, eyes wide and filled with excitement. "There's a real bluiddy space pirate on this ship! In Starfleet!"

"...the Hell!? Is this a pirate ship or a starship? If they think I'm getting a peg leg, they're crazy. Click down, there's another linked file under hers. Another Baroness."

Caught up in the moment, Gavarus just reached over and opened up the linked file. "Uh... Heh... and there's your chief. Baroness 5th class, Mnhei'sahe Dox. How many goddamned pirates are on this ship?"

"What in the bluiddy hell? How can she be a space pirate and be a Starfleet lieutenant all at the same time? What the everlovin fook is going on wi' this bluiddy ship?!?" Handing the second PaDD back off to her porcine partner, Fiona tapped away at the screen, bringing up a browser to consult Fedepedia. "Artan family pirates... alreet, here it is. 'A Trill family dynasty of privateers who have roamed the spaceways since the Trill took to the stars'. They maintain the peace wi' the Federation because they only hunt other space pirates, which apparently involves opposing the Orion Syndicate an awful lot. Alreet, so... space pirates."

Looking over at the blonde Briaar, the moppet-curled redhead's face squidged up. "S'weird, right? S'nae joost me?"

"It's not just you. It's severely weird. Okay... So the Captain, this Baroness Schwein and Dox are all pirates. It's says here Dox was a... the hell...a smuggler until she was 16. Speaks Klingon, Romulan and Vulcan and... Holy crap, did you know her and Ensign Gonadie were a couple too? Is everyone dating on this ship?" Gavarus wore an exaggerated expression of incredulity on her face.

In that moment, the midget Mariposian and the irascible Tellarite looked at one another, both in that moment silently considering taking their friendship one step further. There was a long pause before both of them burst out laughing, Fiona giggling while Briaar guffawed and snorted.

"It's the U.S.S. Pirate Sex barge," The Tellarite engineer chuckled.

"Mary mother'a jaysis, yuir right. Everbody's sleepin wi' everybody else on this bluiddy boat, and most of 'em are lesbians. Ye see alla them Security gals? S'like they're all takin steroids and spendin alla their spare time in the gymnasium, aye?" The midget moppet raised her arms in bicep curls, bared her teeth and growled like a shih-tzu.

Busting out in a stream of snorts, Gavarus doubled over laughing. "Oh... Oh my gods... that hurts. Oh... I laugh, but they're all my damn type. Hah!"

The porcine engineer wiped a tear from her eye. "Seriously, though. What's up with the all enormous women security squad? This ship is ten levels of bizarre."

"Ah dinna ken... okay, let's look... chief of security/tactical is... well well, tis Wonderbra agin. Look, she's oop there wi' ye, she's another bluiddy skyscraper. Hell's bells, she's the only one we've seen s'far that's married to a man. So it's not her private harem. Maybe the Captain likes her girls big and beefy, to go with the holographic lovedolly?" It was a crass and rude question, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

Smirking, Gavarus leaned forward and hiked her own bosom up, propped as it was atop her prodigious belly. "I don't know, Leprechaun. I'm pretty big and beefy. Maybe I've got a shot in the harem. What do you think? Get a duranium reinforced bra to hoist these piggies up and get in on the action?"

Barely containing her laughter as she spoke, Briaar was striking an exaggerated, vamping pose as she let out an extended snort for effect.

"Ach! Ah think ye might need ta start paradin' aboot in a wee skirt so everyone kin see yuir bloomers," O'Dell replied through her own laughter. Turning her back to the engineer, she arched her back and looked over her shoulder in what was supposed to be a seductive pose that looked somehow ridiculous when the tiny test pilot in the oversized sweatshirt did it. "Ach noo, Ah dropped me spanner, let me goo all the wee to the floor ta git it!"

Snapping back around, O'Dell pointed out. "Remember, 'special dispensation'. The Commander's only been aboard for a few months, and she went from a Lieutenant when she got here... open that subfile... to a full Commander and First Officer in 3 months? Maybe there's a FEW reasons she's allays smilin', aye?"

"I don't know..." Gavarus started scrolling through the files as she thought. "Dox here was an Ensign just before getting transferred here, and in less time than it takes to fart, she was a Lieutenant, senior staff and heading up the flight control office. Of course, she's only a few inches taller than you and doesn't exactly fit that 'amazon' model."

"Piffle. Top o'me head comes up to the tip of her nose," Fiona muttered, imagining what it might be like to be 160 cm tall.

"Seems like the Captain has some pretty random-ass criteria for promotion." Gavarus chuckled. "Or she also has a thing for women with asses wider then they are tall. Who the hell knows?"

"If that's the case, I'm g'win ta stay an ensign fer life. I got the hips and arse of a twelve year old boy, and the Captain dinna look like a man of the cloth, if ye catch me drift. What aboot Gonadie? What's the big bird's story? The woman's a bluiddy genius, and I've had more fun in her contraptions than..." At that, O'Dell flashed back to the dark, cold Cherry Bomb as they tumbled powerless in space, then to the arc of power jolting through her, of the pain more than she'd ever felt in her life, and she clutched her hands together anxiously.

"That... yesterday was scary, aye? I've nivvir been s'scared in me life," Fiona admitted in a quiet voice.

Smiling down at her friend, Gavarus nudged O'Dell in the shoulder with her own and replied in a subdued voice as well. "Me neither. But no matter how scared I got, I had this crazy little pixie yelling at me to keep my crap together. So, I did. And here we are, right?"

A beaming smile and a nod was the reply, so Gavarus pressed on.

"As for Gonadie, her file is... remarkably empty. No personal info or family history. Just that she's... wow... She's passed up promotions left, right and center. She even gave up the Flight Control Department to Dox? Weird." Gavarus continued.

"Waaaaahhhl, y'know, some people pass up promotion a'cuz it'll make a lot more work an' responsibility fer ye. They joost want ta be doin what they're doin, an' that's fine fer them. I dinna join Starfleet ta be a Commander and hafta hoof and poof aboot and tell everybody what ta bluiddy do. I joined ta fly, and I have. I'm no combat pilot, but I've helped dozens of repair jobs, and flown folks and cargo back and forth safely plenty o'times. And now this... the Cyclones are excitin', boot the Thunderchicken... Gonadie's a genius, I tellye. I've nivvir flown somethin' so intuitive, so adaptable. I danced in that rig on me first day."

"Maybe she joined because she could build somethin' like that?"

Scoffing slightly, Gavarus smirked, "I have just enough ambition to want to have other people to tell to go clean the EPS Conduits for once. I heard about some poor grunt who had to scrub burnt monkey waste off of one of the Runabout hulls. Transferred off the ship out of exhaustion at the last crew change at DS9. I want to do just good enough to not be the next him!"

"Wahhhhhlllll then yuir in luck! Because ye happened to call for a pilot the day Mrs. O'Dell's wee bairn was next on the duty roster, and we both hit the jackpot. Now I get to be a test pilot and yuir an R&D flight engineer. We're livin the bluiddy dream, we are!" A twitch went through her left hand just then, and Fiona looked at it with concern. Then she flexed her fingers and shook it off. "Leftovers, it'll pass. Me and thee, R & D and Mona makes three. We've a bright future ahead of us, Briaar Gavarus. Ye might just be orderin the likes of us around sooner than ye think!"

The tall Tellarite chuckled slightly. "Ordering you around is fun. I could get used to that, for sure."

Leaning forward, Gavarus picked up her tea and took a sip. "Do you really think we can pull this off, Fiona?"

There was no immediate response, but mimicking the engineer, the test pilot picked up her earthenware mug of tea and held it between both of her small hands. The expressive face ran through a few permutations that clearly indicated that she wasn't just rattling off a snappy answer, but a considered one.

"Aye... yuir a good engineer. Ye're meticulous, ye know your stoof and you're communicative. Ye're open to suggestion, adaptive and easygoing. You, my fine bristly friend, are remarkably well suited to this job we've lucked into. As for me, that mecha... it's like what I've waited for me entire life. I kin move it aboot like me own bod, in a way, and I'm... I'm big. All by meself nobody takes me seriously, because I'm wee. But in a vehicle, I'm nae wee. I am fast and furious and strong and I kin do wonders."

"Aye, Briar. Ye and me and Gonadie makes three, we're g'win ta write us a chapter a'aerospace history right here, ye mark me words. Vehicles that double as powered armor? The whole galaxy will be interested in this, and we'll be the pioneers, the trailblazers. How's that strike ye?" The merry miniature Mariposian grinned ear to ear, pleased with herself.

"I think that sounds good to me, Leprechaun." Gavarus grinned as much as her thick jowls would allow.

"Aerospace history? That sounds pretty damn good."

Chief Inteligence Officer Lieutenant Samuel Clemens approached the VIP Quarters corridor, an actual gilded envelope in hand.

He nodded to the sets of security personnel posted at each of the quarters, and continued on to his destination: the VIP quarters #13, the room of the current Incarnation of Death.

As he approached the two mightily-muscled Klingon officers, he slowed, and nodded, with a smile.

"Good afternoon, folks. If it's not too much imposition, could one of you please deliver this note to the occupant of these quarters for me? She's likely not in at the moment, as her schedule is somewhat hectic," the mustachioed master of mystery requested politely.

The two sisters exchanged glances, then the shorter but sturdier of the pair stepped forward. "Who?" she asked, eyes narrowed with suspicion and stance moving in for the intimidation factor. "To whom do you want this delivered, Lieutenant?"

The wiry officer neatly tucked the note into his vest, and faced the two warriors squarely, in a formal stance.

"There are things that neither of you have been authorized to know." He looked them over, carefully, noting their determined looks. "You're both honorable. You honor your oaths. To Starfleet. To your families. To your world." He nodded. "I am this ship's Chief of Intelligence. As such, I control the dispersion of Command-level access to classified information. The identity of our guest is such a secret."

He pursed his lips. "If I am to answer, you must take a vow of secrecy. To break it, obviously, will be your eternal dishonor. As well as," the wily word wizard smiled a smile without a trace of humor, "formal charges from Starfleet Intel Command."

"Do you agree to the terms?"

Looking back to the other Klingon warrior, the stouter of the two nodded. "Yes, I would know, and I will swear upon my honor to maintain it. Sister, what say you?"

"I say it is a test, S'Rina. A promise of honor a security clearance does not make. The true honor is in serving one's duty and accepting that some things need not be known." The taller of the two Amazonian sisters declared, her face haughty and filled with disdain. Seeing the pleading look in the eyes of her sister, however, caused her to roll her eyes. "But you are a fool, and you have already made this bargain. As your sister I cannot allow you to pursue this course alone."

"Fine- upon my honor, I will agree and speak to no one of whom dwells within, that we have never seen nor heard, yet seems to exist all the same. Who is it, Chief Clemens?" Surprisingly, the calmer of the two knew to whom she spoke.


Sam noted the studious nature of V'Nus, for future reference, and replied, calmly, "Who you will see her as will depend upon your state of honor. Pray that it isn't Veqlargh." He sighed, and continued in his strangely-neutral Earther accent.

"She is Death. The one who takes the dead to their final destination, wherever that may be, depending on who they are, and what their beliefs of the afterlife are. Make of it what you will, but it is true. She cannot be seen by mortals unless they're near the end of life- or in other, decidedly-odd circumstances."

There was a moment where the two sisters eyed him, seeking to cleave truth from falsehood. Then they eyed one another, as S'Rina settled back into place beside her taller sister with a dismissive snicker. A cleared throat from V'Nus bit back whatever commentary she might have added, and the muscular Klingon warrior settled back into her guard position, as did V'Nus. Holding out her hand, S'Rina cocked a ridged eyebrow.

"The parcel you wished us to deliver to the occupant. Is that an order, Lieutenant?" she clarified, eyes filled with doubt and wary of a trap.

Clemens fished it back out, a faint look of regret on his face. "I suppose it'll have to be."

"Then we have our orders. We take a patrol of the interior again in a few minutes, and we will deliver your invitation, Lieutenant Clemens. The fifteenth," the Klingon warrior added slyly, pointing out that she knew just who the intelligence chief was more than mere rank or position. After all, the personnel files of everyone on board were open to any other crew member. Wagging the envelope in her fingers, Petty Officer S'Rina bared her teeth at the mustachioed mythbuster.

"Would you like a report if it disappears from the empty quarters, sir?" V'Nus asked somewhat mockingly, getting in on the fun as well.

Flashing a 1.21 Gigawatt grin at the sisters, with a waggle of his prodigious brows, Clemens replied, "Indeed, I would. Carry on, warriors."
“Aye, Lieutenant,” they said in unison, then watched him go. Once he was out of earshot, the duo conversed between themselves in their native Klingon.

“So what do you think is really in there?”

“I still say it is a test. A k’toq hunt- an imaginary children’s fright they use to test our commitment and our willingness to follow orders. Death is not a person, and it does not dwell on this starship. Only a fool would believe such a thing.”

“Agreed. I do not believe it either. So why the charade from the Intelligence chief?”

“A test, sister, clearly. Will we follow orders, will we ask questions, will we become curious and investigate on our own. It is all a game to them, sister. Just play it, stand guard, uphold your duty and our honor will remain intact.”

“It angers me that they test us this way.”

“We are not singled out for this treatment. We guard the lady Hera, now there is the Romulan woman next quarters over. There are mysteries within mysteries on this ship. Do you not remember what Hera did on DS9, on the promenade?”

“That… was… I do not know what that was. But she is a power to be respected, and she is always compliant and grateful, and she comports herself with honor. I feel proud to stand guard for Lady Hera. This is… pointless.”

“Carrying the rock seems pointless to the ant, yet the queen knows the purpose it serves. Duty is it’s own reward, my sister.”

“Always duty an honor… they are not the answer to everything, my sister.”

“They are the answer to most things. Who is the strongest, the fastest, the best fighter…. These things matter less than duty and honor.”

“In that, we disagree.”

“As have we always.”

On the last sweep of the quarters before the end of their shift, the Wil’I’Ams sisters reported to the Intelligence chief that the envelope had gone missing. While they lacked the clearance to search the security sensor logs of the room, they suspected between themselves that the Chief Spook had simply beamed the envelope out, or perhaps had another method of having removed it, but they dutifully reported that the gilded envelope of Lieutenant Clemens' request had indeed vanished.

The note read as follows:

"My dear Lady Death,

It has come to my attention that there is to be a dance event upcoming. I should very much enjoy if you would agree to accompanying me, in whatever capacity you deem appropriate.

Yours in conversation,

Samuel"

As she had been lounging and reading one of her many books on the couch, her horse Taxes enjoying some oats in the middle of the living room as well, when the letter was delivered, the pale woman looked up at the Klingon woman that had come to inspect the quarters and deliver the letter. As the guard left, she headed over to the letter and picked it up, reading it over. "Oooh... a party invite... Whatever shall I wear?" A slow smile crept across her face.

"Taxes, I have need of a gown of the finest spider silk..."

Maica had really outdone herself this time - She had cleared out the normal table and chairs and the minibar in the captain's mess and overlaid the normal holographics with that of a famous Orion dance club called the Big Oh!, complete with cages hanging from the ceiling with olive-skinned dancers. The bar, of course, had the Captain's real booze, but the holographic butlers had been reskinned to resemble the local barkeeps. The dance music was at a moderate level so as to not overload the sound dampening, but eve8n that was mostly accurate for now.

And there were Enalia and Maica on the dance floor, waiting for guests to arrive at the dance party they were throwing for the Andorian quad, both of them wearing brass bikinis and shaking their groove thangs like they had not a care in the world.

The door opened as the two Andorian girls stepped through the doors. Tathaa was wearing her Orion dancers outfit from the ships dancing troupe though Thex had chosen to wear the pink dancers outfit given to her by the malfunctioning holodeck caused when the ship had flown through Gaea. Both gave a smile as they looked around the room. "Looking good you two you and this place looks great, " Thex said as the pair of them joined Enalia and Maica on the dance floor.

"Thank you! So do you!" Maica called as she jammed out with Enalia, who gave them a thumbs up and a grin.

Walking down the corridor towards the Captains mess and the party to come, Mnhei'sahe Dox and Mona Gonadie were arm in arm, though the more nervous Dox was tugging on her dress slightly as she walked.

It was the same dress that Mona had given Dox back before the two became a couple. It was a high necked green dress made of material that shimmered with a faint pearlescence in the pattern of faint scales it was made of as it criss-crossed in an x below her waist flaring out along the floor at her feet. Across her right shoulder, the deep green material flowed over her side like a mid-length cape that was edged with feathers that gradated from the green of the dress to a teal and ending at a bright lavender. The same feathering trimmed the sides of the dresses neck and the hem at the bottom.

"So, what do you know about these two new Suitors? I guess they must've hit it off if they went through with the transfer, but it seems really quick." Dox asked as she looked over at Mona who positively glowed in her matching dress that, on the Miradonian pilot, seemed to almost be an extension of her own brilliant plumage.

Mona shook her head. "Not much, actually. I've had my head buried in tech schematics and reports the past week setting up the new R&D department so I haven't heard much at all through the rumor mill at all."

As they approached the Captain's mess for the party, Dox paused at the door, adjusting the dress again. "I haven't heard anything either. I'm probably just overthinking the whole thing and... It's all loose around here? Did I get this zipped up right, Mona?"

"No, it's fine, you've just lost weight. I'll have to take it up later. I'm sorry, I should have noticed and done it earlier." Mona made a few adjustments and harrumphed as she fiddled with Dox's dress for a moment, then nodded and escorted her love into the dance party anyway. "You'll be able to dance easier anyway."

“Don’t chicken out, you got this,” Asa murmured to themself as they approached the Captain’s private mess. The doctor had an idea of what everyone would be wearing and had felt utterly adrift when getting ready, finally opting to just replicate something and act like they felt confident in it. They had finally settled on metallic gold pants and a black sequined tank top. Wanting to draw attention anywhere but to their body, Asa had also streaked their close-cropped hair in hues of purple, blue, green, silver, gold, and red, creating an almost prismatic effect that they would actually be sad to see go at the end of the night. The young doctor had experimented with makeup, but ended up washing it all off, feeling that somehow didn’t fit. As usual, they wore comfortable shoes- flip flops in black also bedecked in sequins.

Entering the room, Asa made their way to everyone and shyly said, “Um, hi. Everyone looks really great, thanks for inviting me.”

Entering alone behind the ship’s surgeon, the ebullient Rita Paris loomed over the petite physician a bit in the heels of the traditional cowboy boots she wore. Clad in a sequined bandeau top, a matching thong with fringed synth leather cowboy chaps that added motion when she walked and a matching cowboy hat with a rather pronounced silver buckle, Rita looked like she might be more at home twirling around a pole than getting down on the dance floor.

“You look great Doc! I love what you’ve done with your hair! Dox, Mona, looking good… I see the guests of honor are already good to get down, and our hostesses with the mostesses are on the scene and looking keen! How’s everybody tonight?”

Nervously, Dox nodded with an awkward smile to Rita who, as usual, owned the room when she walked in, which only served to make the uncomfortable Romulan even more self-conscious.

“Hi Commander,” Asa said, blushing furiously at the compliment, “And thanks. I always wanted to have something interesting in my head, but I figured for tonight I’d settle for something fun on it. Gotta admit….I have no idea how to dance really, but enthusiasm before skill, right?”

“I know how to swing dance, waltz, ballroom dance and whatever I still recall from ballet classes in my youth. So truth be told, the old lady’s no dancer either. The key is to just move to the beat and enjoy yourself, and imagine that you are amongst friends who won’t laugh at you if you dance like a landed fish,” Paris replied with an easygoing smile, even as she began twisting her narrow waist in time to the thumping beat of the music.

A short distance from the mess the two male Andorians couldn't help but smile as they walked down the corridor. " An Orion club. My parents are going to kill me when they find out what these two are into. " Thav jokily said to his mate. Thav would be the first to admit that he and his mate had no fashion sense so both had chosen some comfortable tight trousers and t-shirts. Stepping into the room were both amazed at the sight before them. The site was definitely worth the transfer.

From across the room, Dox leaned over to Mona and muttered as she eyed the newcomers with a slightly suspicious eye. "Hey, there they are."

On the other side of the mess, a tall figure sauntered toward the gathered senior officers, his boots making clacking sounds, as their platforms struck the deck.

The apparition came to a halt, grinning from ear to ear under the symmetrical dandelion-like ginger hair, the sequins from his pristine-white jacket and bell-bottomed pants bedazzling even under the room's somewhat-subdued lighting.

Sam did a blinding twirl, the flared legs of his improbably-tight bottoms whipping with an audible snap, as his boot came down, and his pointed forefinger stabbed skyward.

"Play that funky music!"

"John Travolta is rolling over in his grave," Paris grinned broadly, recognizing the iconic dancer's outfit from her own culture.

"Imirrhlhhse..." Dox cursed under her breath in Rihan. "That is one hell of an outfit."

Never one to dither too much over an excuse to be absurd, Asa had suited actions to words and was cabbage-patching their way around the dance floor, pausing to occasionally electric-slide their way up to someone new. After a quick hip bump to Rita, Asa giggled and boogied on over to the Sam, “Heya Sam! You are as shiny as me!” they enthused.

Sam spun like a dervish, halting with his hand out to Asa, a wolfish grin under the brilliantly-blue eyes, a-twinkling. He winked, and a holoprojection beam sprang to life above him, and a bedazzled mirror globe sprang into spinning existence above them, complete with multi-colored lights shining from- somewhere.

Asa gladly accepted Sam's hand and giggled with glee at the beam under which they found themselves. They had never seen the like, but it was marvelous to the young doctor, and they mirrored Sam's movements in a funky groove.

On the dance floor, Thex and Tathaa were pulling moves that no one was going to forget in a while. The two Andorian girls moved like water on the floor and around the other dancers. Their male quadmates smiled even though the two were some of the worst dancers here. Oribiar had some skills though Thav had all the dancing skills of a brick. Not that stopped him from trying.

While Mona had natural rhythm and much more enthusiasm, Mnhei'sahe was doing her level best to keep up while glancing down regularly at their feet as she moved. "Hnaev..." The Red-headed Romulan cursed in Rihan and chuckled awkwardly, "I don't want to crush your feet, Mona. I have no idea what I'm doing here."

While by no means a dancer, Rita could learn a dance, and line dancing worked for any beat if you were determined. In keeping with the motif of her dancer's attire, she boot scoot boogied and did the electric slide. If Sonak showed up she was going to ask him to square dance, because she was reasonably sure he could pull it off. meanwhile, she danced over to the new guys.

"Hey! Hello! I'm Rita Paris. What are your names, Thex and Tathaa's boyfriends?" As direct as it was, somehow the smile on the woman's face and the fact that she was line dancing in fringe chaps somehow made it disarming.

"I'm Oribiar, the ship’s new quartermaster. This Thav, my quad mate, the ships new master at arms," the Andorian who could actually dance said to the human he recognized as the ship’s first officer.

"Nice to meet you, Commander Paris," Thav said doing his best with his dancing skills.

“Thav and I have met, and we’ve caught up since I head Security. Aside from that, we’re off duty, Oribiar. You can just call me Rita. Commander Paris on duty, but in a casual setting like this, no need for ranks. We’re all just people,” Rita smiled winningly. “So how did you two meet our local gals?”

" We were looking for a pair to complete are quad. Your captain mentioned it to our captain, who told us and we started talking. Things went well and here we are." Oribiar replied with a grin on his face.

Nodding, a smile still on her face, the suspicious security chief made a few mental notes. While it might be argued that she was the suspicious sort, her suspicions often bore fruit, so she trusted her instincts. The man might just have no guile and it might be as simple as that, but Paris resolved to begin deep background checks on both men. After all, Thex was her friend, and while she might be a touch overprotective, she was fiercely loyal and was determined that no threats would bloom from within the USS Hera. Especially one that threatened her friend’s happiness.

Meanwhile, across the dance floor, the assemblage had begun mixing and mingling. Mona had begun dancing and talking with the Captain and her wife, Maica. As such, it left Dox open to meander awkwardly over to Thex and Tathaa.

Nursing a glass of punch, Dox did her level best to move in a fashion that resembled dancing as she moved about the floor. "So, how's it going with these two so far?"

" Very well at least I think so. A few problems that will need to look at on the biological level, but it's nothing that are fantastic Asa and her team won't be able to fix." Thex said as she placed her arms around Tathaa as the pair continued to dance.

"So, are they from Andor or a colony? Dox asked, trying to get a feel for the new duo.

" The USS Shackleton. They were born on one of the federations deep space exploration ships. " Thex responded.

Doing her best to look like she was dancing, Dox awkwardly shimmied in place. "Hnaev..." She cursed lightly in her native Rihan. "They're both spacers? Keep an eye on them, because I'm telling you, spacers are crazy. I'm a spacer and I'm crazy, ask Mona!"

" A good thing we both like crazy. " Tathaa said with a grin on her face.

Returning the smile with a fair bit of effort, Dox took the cue and awkwardly wandered away from the happy couple as they danced, slipping out the door to get some air.

Taking a break, Rita sashayed over to the Captain and Maica and smiled that toothy smile that lit up a room. “Lovely party as always Maica, you remain the hostess with the mostess. So what do you make of our two new boys in blue, Captain?”

Maica grinned brightly as she boogied on down. "Thank you. The club Big Oh! has always held a special place in my heart and I'm glad we could finally have a party here."

Enalia took a break to chat with her first officer and have a drink, grabbing a random cocktail from the bar. "I think they're a bit stiff on the dance floor, but they're men so that's normal. Other than that, I like them. Commodore and their former commanders all like them so that's a big plus right there. The ladies seem to like them so far and that's also good news. What do you think?"

"I think suspicious thoughts because that's my job," Rita replied frankly, with a smile. "And of course I think them more because these young men are all hooking up with my friend, so I tend to be a bit overprotective at the very least. But they seems nice, don't seem to have any ill intent, and they seem to be good fellows who are happy to have found someone in this life, in this great big universe of ours. So I will continue to watch with one wary eye, as I always do, and celebrate alongside them. In short, the usual, Captain. Business as usual on the USS Hera."

"Excellent. That's exactly what I like to hear." Enalia gave her first officer a pat on the back and motioned over at Asa and Sam in their flashy outfits dancing under the disco ball. "Now go have some fun. It's not every day we have a party like this. Dance like no one is watching and live like no one cares. If you want the karaoke machine, it's behind the bar."

Offering the Captain a knowing smile and placing her hand on the Trill woman's shoulder, the extradimensional explorer's expression was one of comfort. "We've survived opposing literal gods, we've banished titans and we've even resurrected one of our own from Death herself, Enalia. I live every day like that, because we never know what tomorrow may bring." Drawing the woman into an embrace, Rita Paris whispered in the woman's ear. "We're here, and you are taking good care of your crew, Captain."

Releasing the spotted collection of command curves from her own, Paris turned to head for the bar. "Karaoke machine you say? HERA KARAOKE RULES!" she called out, announcing what was to come to those in the know.

Slipping back in, Dox refilled her glass of punch and did her level best to look comfortable as she awkwardly shimmied in place as Rita's proclamation rang out.

Setting up the karaoke machine, Rita flipped through and chose a song. While it wasn't one that she felt confident singing, that didn't matter. While there were a great many things the curvaceous cosmonaut was good at in this life, singing like an angel was not her gift. But this was karaoke, so skill mattered less than heart. Taking the microphone, she spoke to the assemblage.

"When I met Thex sh'Zoarhi, I was exploring a new starship in a new century, and I had very little idea of where I was and what I was doing. She befriended me, and acclimated me, explaining a lot of what I'd missed and helped me see how the universe had turned out the way it has. As I got to know her, I marveled over the fact that such a sweet, compassionate woman could still be alone in the universe. Today, we come together to celebrate the fact that she is alone no longer, and that four may come together as one, to keep their race thriving, with the pitter-patter of little blue feet on the deck soon. Hopefully," she added with a smile.

"So I'm no singer, but I want to dedicate this to Thex, my friend, the blue to my gold, the brave to my bold. Hit it, boys!" As she hit the button on the karaoke machine to start, a holographic representation of a stage opened on the wall behind her as a single spot shone down. As she began to sing, the band became visible, and the first strains were heard as they sang in chorus.

"Can anybodyyyyy... find meeeee... somebody toooo.. looooove...."

Familiar with the song of one of their favorite Earth groups, Asa began crooning along, dramatically punctuating words with gestures in the chorus as they continued to boogie with Sam. As Rita noticed Doc knew the words, she brought over the microphone and they turned it into a duet, alternating bits of the song between them. Which helped, because Rita was off-key and without a good range. But she had enthusiasm, and she had a little help from her friend, so it turned out all right. At the end of the song, she gave Asa a smothering bosomy hug and handed off the microphone to Thav.

"Master At Arms, to arms, to arms!" Paris declared as she handed over the mic with a winning smile. "Hera rules karaoke- after you sing, you hand it off, and whomever gets the mic has to sing, and no tagbacks. You're on, Mister Th'ovohrot."

Thav took the mic with a slight grin on his face. He could play music, but singing was not one of his strong points. Even still he touched a few buttons and started up a song that he remembered from the academy.

"The sun drops low. Stains the sky a bloody red. The wind begins to blow, And the day is dead.

Your facade is shed. Your armor's on the ground. You become the real you for once, And you long to hear the sound."

Just then the doors opened once more and the holographic lights flickered just slightly as a cold chill swept through the room. In stepped an alabaster white woman dressed in a white and black silk hooded dress that faded into everyone's view as she stepped across the threshold of the door. Her sunken white eyes searched the room for the one that had invited her and as she found him, slowly stepped her way towards the southern gentleman.

Curtsying, she held out a gloved hand. "I used an old spell so I could be seen by all for the evening and accept your invitation properly. I do apologize if I'm a bit disconcerting."

For the very first time in his life, Samuel Clemens was stricken speechless.

For about a quarter-second.

He regained his mental faculties, and took her hand, bending to kiss it while maintaining eye contact, with a warm smile.

"I couldn't imagine anyone being disconcerted by you, dear lady. You're the very vision of beauty." He straightened, eyes twinkling like fireworks, and tapped a control on his belt. The holo-projected disco suit and wilder-than-usual hair faded, leaving Sam in a brilliant white tuxedo, accessorized by a black string tie, and wing-tip dancing shoes.

He winked at her. "I've got a few spells of my own..."

The pale woman smiled wider and would have blushed if there was a drop of blood in her. "Well, that's some magic. And a gentleman? I think I might have a pleasant distraction."

Walking from the refreshments table to stand next to Mona, Mnhei'sahe was momentarily confused. She, of course, recognized the arrival of her friend, the woman she knew as Masato Rei, but didn't initially understand how everyone else seemed to see her.

As a general rule, only herself, Asa, Baroness von Alcott and the ginger Intel Chief himself could perceive Death. But as her keen Romulan ears heard the explanation and she watched the exchange between her friends, her expression shifted from one of slight confusion to one of wide-eyed happiness.

"Hnaev..." She cursed under her breath to Mona with a beaming smile. "They're on a date. I love it." As she spoke, the generally awkward Romulan woman instead couldn't help but shoot a genuinely happy smile across at Rei, the woman who was both the embodiment of Death and the friend she frequently shared dinner with.

Which was when Rita Paris leaned in to whisper to Dox, in genuine puzzlement, “Who is that?”

Taking a good half second to remember that without the benefit of whatever spell Death was using to become visible, Rita was incapable of seeing the powerful entity. "Huh? Oh, right. Yeah. That's, well, Death. Or Masato Rei, which was her original name."

The portly pilot had a warm smile on her face for her friends. "Sam's been able to see her since Asa saved him on the table a while back, and it seems like they like each other."

A wry smile settled on the face of the friendly first officer. “Well, gotta wonder about a fellow who has the hots for Death, but Sam does love a mystery. Good for him. And now I can actually say I’ve laid eyes on her… even if I don’t plan to meet her anytime soon… nothing personal, just spent far too long trying to stay one step ahead of her.”

After stepping aside for the clearly courting colleague, Asa flashed a huge grin at Death, giving her the thumbs up as they stood aside. Walking up to the now empty microphone, Asa began crooning.

“Oooohhhhh myyyyy loooooovvveeee, my darrrrliiiinnnggggg, I’ve hungered for your touch…..alloooonnnnneeeeeee.”

With the good Doctor crooning one of her favorite songs, Rita Paris looked around for Sonak, seeking the arms of the Kolinahr who was no longer the last, but had always been the only one for her. In that moment, as the song said, she hungered for his touch. Thus she sought him out in the crowd, hoping that he had arrived, and that he would indulge her desire to dance with him to the romantic ballad of her home.

Her eyes sought him until she turned, to find him standing right behind her. Without a sound, in his natural unobtrusive way, he had entered the room and approached until he stood two paces from her.

Without a word, he raised his arms to invite her. Stepping into him with a smile that she reserved only for him, her heart swelled at the strains of the song, as well as Sonak's presence, his being… him. As far as she roamed, no matter the wonders she encountered, there was still nothing greater to her than to be held in his arms, and swept about the dance floor by the stoic Kolinahr. Laying her head on his shoulder, held in his strong arms, Rita Paris was utterly content.

You always know when to find me, she thought as a contented sigh escaped her.

This is easier than finding you accross transdimensional spacetime resonances Sonak answered in his classic deadpan. But the result is just as agreeable.

Pressing herself closer to him, Rita expressed herself emotionally and telepathically, happy to be with him, safe in his arms, and deeply in love with the best man she'd ever known.

As was usual with everything regarding she who was his wife, Sonak found the experience fascinating, gratifying, and unique.

As the 6/4-time ballad filled the room, Samuel danced with his otherworldly partner, gently whirling with her, oblivious to the universe at large, like dandelions in an ethereal wind, a content smile upon his face, far removed from the mischievous grin he usually wore. Ma would be proud of me. I'm finally dancing for fun, not a mission…he mused.

His dance partner for tonight looked like she was actually properly enjoying herself for the first time in over seventeen hundred years. After all this time, she had never once let her guard down like her predecessor, but tonight... Tonight, she had let slip a little magic and taken some personal time to enjoy a dance or two with an impossible gentleman.

Just for tonight, Death was taking the night off.

Inside the Captain's Mess, the party was going strong. Loud music and laughter could be heard well down the corridors of the deck of the U.S.S. Hera as the command crew enjoyed themselves inside. All except for Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox.

Leaning against the bulkhead in the corridor a short walk away from the Mess, the anxious young Romulan pilot sighed. Standing in the brilliant green and purple feathered dress that was a gift from her mate, Mona Gonadie, Dox stood by herself overthinking. The party had been going just fine inside and everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time, but the socially awkward red-head found herself floating around aimlessly. The much more outgoing Mona had bounced around, dancing with everyone and having a great time, but it was an energy level the introverted Dox couldn't hope to match.

So, as nobody was paying much attention to the wallflower in the corner doing her level best attempt at dancing, that was little more than a gentle swaying in place, out of time with the music, she slipped out of the room an into the hall to try and pull herself back together.

Pulling away from social encounters was standard practice for Dox and one she had all but mastered during her uncomfortable and isolated years on Earth and at Starfleet Academy. But it was also something she had been making a concerted effort to be better about since her posting on the Hera, now well over six months ago. The Hera had been different. She had been making friends for the first time in her life since very early childhood. She had inexplicably found love. But she still felt alone in a crowd. And tonight, she felt doubly alone as she sulked in the corridor feeling sorry for herself.

In her hand was a half-empty glass of punch that she looked at, desperately wishing was instead a glass of Kali-fal. Inside at the party, there were copious amounts of the pale blue alcohol she had grown up on to be had, but she had chosen again to abstain. As her relationship with Mona had gotten much more serious, she had begun to try and step away from the drinking that had become like comfortable background noise for her life. It was a false comfort that served to fuel her self-pity, self-doubt and self-destructive behavior. It was the score to her pattern of anger and self-harm that she was desperately trying to change.

But it was also the friend that made it easier for her to not CARE about her self-pity. It was the warm hug that made her feel less alone in a room. It was the joke in the back of her mind that made it easier for her to smile in a crowd and be the sociable person people wanted to be around. Instead, she looked at the unsatisfying punch and sighed.

Since the Gaia incident of a few weeks ago now, Dox had been feeling more and more isolated from those around her. Since the great Titan had closed the psychic door in her mind, she felt increasingly alone. And in that isolation, old fears and insecurities had begun to take root.

Did anyone even notice she had left? Did anyone really care if they did? Was she a burden to those people that she dared to think of as friends?

As she withdrew, she felt those connections begin to wither. She had barely spoken to the person she thought of as her best friend, Asa Dael of late. The two saw each other professionally, but nothing beyond that. She was working on rebuilding her telepathic bond with Mona, but it was still weak and her mental retraining was going slowly and without much progress.

But that bottle cared. She looked across the room at it and sighed. It would be so easy to give up and take that drink. A few glasses and she wouldn't feel guilty for feeling self-pity anymore. She could feel free to feel whatever she wanted to again. All the ugly, self-hating thoughts that lived in her mind would be hers to feel without shame or remorse.

Slumping in the seat, she looked down at the brilliant green and purple dress that Mona had given her. The first gift Mona had given her the day she became a full Lieutenant and it felt like the future was an open horizon of possibilities and she hated herself for loving it. She hated herself for believing in that hope. She hated herself for wanting to belong.

But she did. And for the first time in her life, she was finally beginning to feel like she might have found her place and she wanted it. She wanted to hold on to that feeling and not let it go.

And she didn't want to drink that feeling away ever again.

After a few minutes, she knew that sooner or later, her absence would be noticed by someone and she could only be gone for so long before 'I had to go to the bathroom' would stop being a believable excuse. So she took a breath, shook off her nerves and stood back up.

Walking back over to the door, she re-adjusted the dress that she felt somewhat ridiculous in no matter how much she loved it, and forced an awkward smile back on her face trying to remind herself of the old mantra of 'fake it till you make it.' And letting out the long breath, she stepped back into the fray.

Sitting on the floor of the quarter she shared with her partner, Mona Gonadie, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox had her legs crossed. Across from her in the dimly lit room was a small Vulcan brazier, given to her by the ships science Officer, lieutenant Sonak, to aid in her meditation. The Vulcan Kolinahr master had been helping the young Romulan woman to train and discipline her mind in the Vulcan way for months now. But for the young and frustrated woman, she felt like she was starting over.

In some respects, she was. Her mind had been artificially opened to increase her psychic potential, but that door had since been closed by the cosmic Titan, Gaia. And as such, Dox was just a normal Romulan again. But since Romulans had the same basic physiology as Vulcan's, Dox was redoubling her efforts to retrain her mind. It was extremely important to her to so, not only for herself but for Mona Gonadie.

The Miradonian ensign had become what she calls a bond-mate to Mnhei'sahe. Mona explained that her species chose a single mate In their lifetime and bonded biologically and empathically with that mate for the rest of their lives. And Mona chose Mnhei'sahe. But as Mnhei'sahe was not Miradonian, that bond was likely only to ever be one way, except for the one opened gate in the Romulan's mind.

That open gate amplified her minds psychic ability for a time and enabled Mnhei'sahe to meet Mona more than halfway. The empathic link became a telepathic one when they touched. Dox could perceive, in her mind's eye, a glowing red orb of light within that represented herself. Her own life energy. And when Dox and Mona touched, she could see Mona's energy as a brilliant blue glow. And as they practiced, those light began to merge to become a dazzling purple that filled the young Romulan with a sense of warmth and completion that she had never known before.

But now, since the door to her mind had been closed, that link was extremely weakened. Weakened almost to the point of being gone. And that absence left a void in the two women that Mnhei'sahe was determined to overcome.

So they anxious Romulan sat, cross-legged, concentrating on the small flame before her. Working to quiet her mind. Desperately hoping that with time, she could restore that telepathic bond to its former strength. She closed her eyes, trying to maintain the image of the flame within her. Focusing on its warmth and steadiness. Trying to block out everything else that served only to distract her mind.

After what felt like hours, she felt her mind calm itself. The sounds of the ship faded to a hum in the distance. All she could perceive was the yellow glow of the flame as it pulsed. Pulsed to the rapid beating of her Romulan heart.

As she relaxed, the pulsing slowed to match her breaths and the light shifted in her mind's eye. Shifted from it's yellow flicker to a warm, red glow. She had found it again.

Focusing on nothing but the glow, she had drowned out all other stimuli. There were no longer legs crossed on a carpeted deck plate. The was no rhythmic hum of a warp engine. There was only the pulsing red glow, growing stronger. All other thoughts fell away. All concerns vanished as if they had never existed. And as the red glow grew larger, she saw something else.

Swirling within the red glow, wisps of something else. Flowing within that universe of red was more. Veins of brilliant, cool blues became visible. Mona's blue.

Outside of her mind, a smile crept along her chubby cheeks as the realization overtook her. Mona's energy was still there. Still within her. Unbroken and strong, simply waiting to be rediscovered. Slowly, Mnhei'sahe opened her eyes. She had found Mona’s energy, still within her. The connection was still there. It could be restored.

She sat, quietly for a moment, leaning back on her hands thinking about the events of the last few weeks. Of everything that had happened since she admitted her feelings to the brilliantly plumed Miradonian pilot. And of everything almost lost.

After a few minutes, she got up off the ground, extinguished the flame on the brazier and returned it to its shelf across the room where it sat, surrounded by photographs of Mnhei’sahe’s newfound family onboard the U.S.S. Hera. Taking another moment to look at the collection of images and memories on the shelves, she smiled lightly and walked over to the small glass dining table near the windows out into space.

In the center of the table was a simple data PaDD that she picked up and read over as she sat. The young Lieutenant was off duty and relaxing in a loose-fitting, black t-shirt with the word ‘HERA’ printed on it in gold with a pair of crimson sweat pants. She read through the documents that she had been preparing on that PaDD. Documents that she was going to give to Mona once she got home from her shift on the bridge.

Clearing her throat, Mnhei’sahe looked nervously at the empty seat across from her at the table as she began to speak. “Uh… Mona. I need to talk to you.”

Shaking her head, Dox sighed. “No, she’ll think somethings wrong right from the beginning.”

Taking a light breath, the anxious young Romulan woman started over. “Mona, I’d like to talk to you about… something that I feel is… important. Something I’ve been thinking about for a little while now.”

Stopping herself again, Mnhei’sahe groaned. “Okay, that sounds TOO important, now! She’s going to think you’re ready for kids if you start like that, Hhakh!” She insulted herself in her native Rihan.

“Okay…” She took a few more breaths. “She’s not even HERE yet! Calm down and start over!? Okay… Mona, our relationship has, I think, been going really well. And I’ve… I’ve been thinking about what almost just happened. About the Gaia mission. And about Ila Dedjoy.”

Though the conversation was imaginary, Mnhei’sahe’s tone shifted to a more somber one as she spoke. “We almost lost her completely. Rita, Thex, and Sonak saved a part of her, but when I think about what escaping Gaia cost us, it makes me think. It makes me think about how it could have gone. We… I… I was… lucky. I opened my mind up to an angry god and I’m still here. All of me. But It could have been over if we’d failed to get through to her. She could have just burned my mind away like it was nothing. And that would have been it. And… I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not… I’m still not ready to have kids yet. I’m not. You’ve not yet met my Mother, but maybe once you have you’ll understand a little bit of why I’m… afraid to take that step. Of passing along that legacy to a child and failing them. It terrifies me.” The emotional woman continued talking to the imaginary Miradonian in the seat across from them.

“But… there’s something more I do want to do. I know we talked about some kind of… ceremony… at Thex and Tathaa’s bonding. But it’s not something either of us really has a big history with. I didn’t grow up dreaming of walking down the proverbial aisle in some poofy white dress of anything. But we’re… we’re bond-matted. And that means everything to me.”

Holding up the PaDD, Mnhei’sahe placed it down in front of the empty seat. “So… this is everything else. This is all the documents I could compile to make what we are… I guess… legal. It gives you legal power to make decisions for me in an emergency. It makes you my next of kin in the event that something… anything happens to me. It also makes everything that’s mine, yours too. I know it’s not much. But that means all my crap here. The Khallianen, my little pirate ship down in shuttle bay 2. Everything”.

“I guess this is essentially a… I don’t know… proposal. I’m… not good at this kind of stuff. And I’ve never been one for pomp and circumstance. But you’re the most important person in my life and I wanted to make that… I don’t know… official. I want you to be a part of my everything, Mona. I need you and I know... I know that there’s nothing romantic about paperwork, but…” Mnnhei’sahe groaned out loud and dropped her head on the desk.

“Ugh… that’s terrible.” She mumbled, trying to rethink her words and come up with a better way of presenting the information when the door to the quarters wooshed open as Mona Gonadie stepped in.

"I'm home. I think I like those two we have working on the Cyclones and Thunderchicken. I might have to claim them and start my own R&D team. Do you think the Captain would approve that?" Mona was already taking off her uniform top and staring at a PaDD before she noticed the look on Dox's face. As soon as she saw it though, she moved across the room and sat down in the chair in front of her bond-mate. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

Looking across at Mona's concerned face, Mnhei'sahe chuckled slightly. She didn't even have to say a word for Mona to notice, which was as usual. The anxious young Romulan took the PaDD in her hands, took a deep breath and set it down in front of her love.

"Mona..." Mnhei'sahe repeated her practiced words, "Our relationship has, I think, been going really well..."

Mona ignored the PaDD for the moment and took Dox's hands in her own. "And... You're very anxious about something so I'm guessing it's either marriage related a ring, or kids. Just take a deep breath and say it, ok Minay?"

Letting her head flump back down on the table, Dox groaned again, her voice muffled slightly. "I am extremely bad at this, Mona. Ugh!"

Picking her head back up slowly, she had a nervous smile. "I guess, technically, it's kind of the first..." Then, the red-headed young woman stuttered her way through the speech that she had been rehearsing, doing her best to not just freak out as she spoke. And after a few long moments of talking, there was silence between the two.

"So... that's what's on that PaDD. All the legal paperwork, just waiting for a signature. I figure... whatever other trappings we choose to do can come as they come. I don't know what kind of ceremony you would want and so much of this kind of came up on me quickly after everything happened with Gaia, that I didn't want to wait another day to figure out details. But I wanted to put this all down on paper. Us." Dox cricked her head with an awkward, half-smile, not knowing what to expect.

"Is that all?" Mona leaned in and planted a soft kiss on her lover's lips. "You should have just said so. I did all this like a week ago for you." She then took the PaDD and added her thumbprint to it, signing it. "All done."

Blinking for a moment, Mnhei'sahe let out a short laugh. "Ha... of course you did. I'll spend a week worrying about something that you figured out and solved the week before. I should really just learn to see this coming, shouldn't I?" The red-headed Romulan smiled longingly across the table.

"Well, to be fair, as an engineer I tend to plan ahead like this a lot..." Mona blushed a bit, the yellowish tinge flushing through the finer feathers of her cheeks.

"Hey..." Mnhei'sahe put her hands over Mona's and chuckled, "Once I figure this out, it will make my life a lot easier. I can just defer to you and maybe figure out how to stress less."

"Also... I've been meditating... And I think I'm getting better." The young Romulan closed her eyes and recalled the image of the glowing orb in her mind. This time, the image returned quickly and she could feel it's warmth as she visualized sharing it through her touch. She could feel Mona's own energy touching her own, stronger again.

The brightly plumed Miradonian didn't need any prompting and started thrumming softly, already feeling the energy flowing between them.

They were not yet to the level they once were at, but more than it had been the last few days.

It was an exceedingly pleasant day on Earth. The sun was shining, there was a mild breeze, and Jaeih Dox was miserable.

Misery wasn't a new state of being for the indentured Romulan woman, as she looked out the window of her rather spacious quarters in the security wing of Starfleet Intelligence. Jaeih Dox was a former Romulan engineer and an expert in Cloaking technology, and her services were extremely valuable to Starfleet. So she found herself in the middle of an uncomfortable deal.

Sixteen years ago, she was a smuggler. She, the human she was married to out of convenience Declan Dox, and her teenage daughter 'Melanie'. In order to keep her daughter's record clear, Jaeih made a deal when Starfleet captured them. Her knowledge and service so her daughter would have no criminal record.

In the intervening years, the young Dox had made a career for herself in Starfleet and had begun reclaiming her heritage and past. She restored her given Romulan name of Mnhei'sahe and her appearance, which had been surgically altered as a child. Mnhei'sahe Dox was now a Lieutenant, and it had been months since she had last spoke to Jaeih.

During a shore leave visit, things went very badly. Lies were told and harsh words exchanged. Mnhei'sahe had recovered memories of a Romulan man named Dralath tr'Rul that she could not reconcile. In a panic, Jaeih lied and told her he was just a smuggler and nobody of importance.

But it had been a test. Mnhei'sahe already knew that the man had once been a Tal'Shiar agent. A member of the Romulan secret police. But the lie drove a deep wedge between the two.

The elder Dox had made many attempts to call her daughter in the months since then, but Mnhei'sahe never answered. Refused to talk. Jaeih spent that time desperately wishing she had just told her daughter the truth. That Dralath tr'Rul was, In fact, Mnhei'sahe's true father. But she had panicked and lied and it had cost her the already fragile relationship with her daughter.

But the tall, stern-faced Romulan woman refused to give up. So again, she stood in the center of the gilded cage that was her quarters and opened a comm frequency for Holographic communication, hoping this time, her Daughter would answer.

When the call came in, Dox was off training with the Commander and the security department, but Mona was at the desk in their quarters working on the Thunderchicken schematics. As she had the power to accept the call on her Minay's behalf now, she tapped in her code and stood up, stepping into the holo-call area. As the Romulan woman flickered into existence, she smiled and bowed politely. "Hello, I'm Mnhei'sahe's bond-mate, Ensign Mona Gonadie. You're her mother, right?"

On the other side of the quadrant, in her quarters on Earth, Jaeih watched the Holographic image of Mona Gonadie appear. The elder Dox was expecting either her angry daughter or nothing yet again.

At the sight of the brilliantly colored Miradonian, Jaeih Dox stood up a bit straighter, startled slightly, as she processed the introduction.

"Y... Yes. I am Jaeih Dox. And you said you are my daughter's... what now?" The elder Dox replied, incredulously.

Mona grinned wider, gushing happiness. "Bond-mate? How about we go with wife - most cultures understand it a lot more. So... That makes you my mother in law."

Mona then waved sheepishly. "Hey, mom. It's nice to finally meet you. When we finally get time to have a ceremony, I'll be sure to send you an invitation."

The Holographic projection of Jaeih stood there, with her jaw hanging open slightly. Her arms still folded behind her back, she simply stood there staring for a moment in shock.

"Wife? My daughter... You are..." Jaeih put her hand up to press her sinuses and collect her thoughts. "So... you and my daughter are some sort of... couple. I can see her tastes toward the... exotic... haven't changed."

Mona held out her arms. "Do you need a hug? I'm quite soft... Plush... Cuddly..." Mona also wanted to get a baseline for her MiL's vitals through the holographics and touch was the best way of doing that. She too could be a bit deceptive.

With an indignant look on her face, Jaeih cricked her neck slightly, "What? No. I do not need a... Hug. What I need is to speak to my daughter, but she has refused my messages since we spoke here on Earth. Since you and she are apparently so close, maybe you know something about this?"

Mona dropped her arms and nodded solemnly, her pleasant demeanor draining away. "Yes, I know much about it. As her bond-mate we've shared many memories. Is there anything you would like to say about it first? Some truths you would like to admit that you know we likely already know?"

"What I tell my daughter is my own business. We had words and I chose to keep certain information to myself for reasons that are..." Jaeih began speaking in a hostile tone until the gravity of what Mona had said had gotten through.

"Tell me she hasn't begun investigating... him?" The tight-lipped Romulan woman was visibly nervous now as she actively avoided saying the name of the man that both women knew to be Mnhei'sahe's real father.

Inside, Mona was giddy, but outside, she clasped her hands behind her and mimicked her MiL's posture. "Dralath tr'Rul, her real father? We didn't need to. The truth will always be revealed on this ship."

A galaxy away, Jaeih's jaw dropped a second time. "She... knows. She can't... I need to explain to her. You begin investigating a member of the Tal'Shiar and you attract the attention of the Tal'Shiar. It was the only way I could protect her. Keep her from digging any deeper, if she thought he was a nobody. Just another smuggler that didn't mean anything."

In the emotion of the moment, Jaeih kept talking as the words just began tumbling out. "We had to hide her, protect her from..." But before going too far, she cut herself off and locked back down.

"Protect her from what?" Mona pressed, leaning forward, her eyes opening further to reveal multiple irises. "We've dealt with worse than them and walked away, mother. We've snatched their prizes from them. We've defeated beings that they feared with glee and decimated their worst nightmares. Do not doubt your daughter's allies."

"You fear the enemy you know..." Mona let a merry grin spread across her face as she tilted her head a bit, still not blinking. "We've eaten enemies far worse that have never seen the light of any sun."

Watching the bizarre display, Jaeih resumed her cool facade, though she had no idea what to make of the bizarre Miradonian woman she was speaking to. "Whatever relationship you think you have with my daughter, do not presume that familiarity extends to me. I am not your Mother."

"You are my mother in law," Mona replied, simply stating a fact. "That means that you are, undeniably, family. As is Dralath tr'Rul. You'll have to accept my apologies though. My entire family was eaten when I was young so I'm not entirely sure how to treat you. My mother and I were never able to discuss it."

"Eaten?" The elder Romulan tilted her head as an eyebrow went up. "Ah, you're Miradonian. That explains... much. I know nothing about this 'bond-mate' nonsense, but Mnhei'sahe's childish desire to... construct... A facsimile of a family is quaint, but wearing thin."

"A facsimile of a family?" For the first time in a very long time, anger was building within Mona. She could count the times she'd been actually mad in her life on one hand and this woman knew how to push her buttons. "I see now why my Minay is so angry at you. You spit in the face of her life and think only of yourself and your own life. You want to protect her but all you do is wrap your secrets in stinky layers of onion and cabbage and won't even reveal what's at the core even though you know we could find out in a few days if we dedicated the resources to it."

Mona gave up pretending to be composed and gesticulated with her hands. "She's made a life for herself now, you know. We do good work protecting not only the Federation but the galaxy as a whole and it's very rewarding. Just remember that you're even where you are now because of her and the multiple times this crew has saved not only Earth, but Romulus and dozens of other planets. She knows who she is and where she's going and she's got confidence in that now and if you so much as think of threatening that, so help me, you will rue the day you pissed off a Miradonian."

Recomposing herself, Mona tugged down on her uniform top and straightened her skirt and nodded curtly. "So, now that we have a mutual understanding and dislike of each other..."

The image of Jaeih Dox allowed the slightest edge of a smirk to curl the corner of her lips. "What makes you think I dislike you?"

Tilting her head, the Romulan manipulator continued. "You're passionate, but easy to push. But it's obvious you care about her, so you have that."

"And that's why I now don't like you. But keep in mind that Miradonians are notorious for seeing through lies and I have both eyes on you." Mona sighed heavily, trying to steer the conversation to more pleasant places. "That being said, I'm not sure if the Captain or Minay has told you yet, but we need you in an upcoming operation. If you're interested in trading your prison cell for a pirate ship for a while, that is."

"No. As I said, I've not spoken to her in quite some time. And I've no idea who the Captain of that oh-so-top secret ship of yours is, as we've never spoken. So what's this business about a pirate ship?" Jaeih responded, curious now.

Now it was Mona's turn to quirk a sly grin. "Really? Because rumor has it that before she joined Starfleet, you had a great many dealings with her family. She's the Artan Family Pirate Princess, Captain Enalia Telvan. Perhaps you dealt more with her mother, whom we need you to help us depose."

Tilting her head back slightly, Jaeih let out a mirthless chuckle. "Enalia Artan. Now it all makes sense. So, Arenara and Enalia are finally having it out and she thinks recruiting my daughter is going to bring me over to her side? Your Captain certainly has her mother's ambition if she thinks that."

"And it certainly explains Mnhei'sahe's rather... rapid promotions. But you should know that Arenara Artan was my client, not your Captain. So hopefully there's a better pitch coming to sway me."

Mona shook her head. "Minay's promotions are based on merit and skill - I was one of the people that saw to that. If there was any favoritism because of family, neither she, nor I, nor the first officer would have allowed it." She then motioned with her hands a bit. "As for the pitch, I don't know all the details, but there's a lot of suspicion and coincidence that points to Arenara tipping off the Syndicate and letting them in past the defenses on a mining colony staffed by Romulan refugees that you helped bring across the neutral zone so she could conveniently show up after the raid to help them."

"Minay could tell you more though," Mona added, waving one hand towards the door. "She should be home from combat training any time now. I just hope she doesn't hurt our new Klingons too badly today."

Standing for a moment, Jaeih's face shifted to one of slight anger at the mention of the Orion Syndicate. Instead, she changed the subject. "Minay? Is Mnhei'sahe too much for you?"

"Minay means NightFeathers in Miradonian, the name of our smaller moon and protector of lovers. It's my name for her. She calls me Jhu Dhael." The brightly plumed Miradonian paused long enough for that to sink in before continuing. "Do you know what it's like to love someone so much you have a name for them like that?"

"Yes. And I took that name away from her once and hid her with the name..." But Jaeih was cut off, mid-sentence, as the door wooshed open as Mnhei'sahe walked in.

"...Melanie." the elder Romulan finished her thought as the room went quiet.

Stepping slowly in as the door closed behind her, Dox was wiping sweat from her brow, dressed in a black tank top with the gold Starfleet delta embroidered on its breast and a pair of black sweat pants. Her left eye was nursing a mild, greenish bruise.

"Mother." Mnhei'sahe hissed before turning towards Mona, with a slightly resigned expression, sighing. "Well, that's her. What's going on?"

"We were getting to know each other, my Minay," Mona explained as she grabbed the medkit on the desk and pulled out the dermal regenerator. "Apparently she doesn't like hugs and is one of the few people to be able to piss me off. We were just discussing our names for you and she was just telling me how much it pained her to hide you with the name Melanie. After all, Mnhei'sahe is so much more beautiful, isn't it?" As she spoke, she gave Jaeih a meaningful look and motioned for Dox to let her work on her bruised eye.

Looking over at the hologram of her mother, the young pilot stood still as she knew Mona wouldn't stop fussing over the bruise until she let her take care of it. As she stared, she thought back to the evening that she learned that Dralath tr'Rul was her father. And she thought back to the words of the woman that had revealed that truth to her. Masato Rei, Death herself, who told the young Romulan to not speak with hate in her heart when next she spoke with her mother.

"So, you two have met, now. This is the woman I've chosen to be with, Mother. So... she's part of the deal now when it comes to me." Mnhei'sahe sighed slightly.

"So I've been told, Mnhei'sahe. I've been told... many things. Things about you and her. And things about this captain of yours." Jaieh replied, flatly.

As she spoke, Mnhei'sahe looked back to Mona, who was finishing up, and smiled slightly. "Catch me up, here?"

Mona smiled lovingly as she worked. "Of course, Minay. I let her know we know about Dralath tr'Rul and about us. Who the Captain is. What I know about the Tribunal, which I admit isn't much. The attack on the mining colony. She knows about my family. General mother-daughter in-law chit-chat, I think."

"Thank you, Jhu Dhael." Mnhei'sahe leaned in and kissed Mona lightly. She knew it would irritate her mother though she didn't do it for that. But she wasn't going to not do it because of her either.

Turning, Mnhei'sahe now faced the hologram of her mother. "So... wasn't quite how I imagined this meeting going, but I also couldn't imagine any way that it would have gone well, regardless."

The elder Romulan moved to speak, but was cut off by her red-headed daughter. "I understand that you felt that you needed to lie to protect me. I do. And I understand that you feel like you still need to protect me. And that being said, I'm not going to ask you anything further about him, or you or my past. You'll tell me what you choose to and I have to accept that and move on."

"Do you remember Sienae Nei'rrh?" Mnhei'sahe asked.

Knitting her eyebrows as she thought for a moment, it was in those subtle peculiarities of her eyes that the mother/daughter resemblance was most pronounced. "I do. We ferried her and seven other Romulan women from Romulus to an Artan cruiser and freedom. You were...at the most... Twelve at the time. She claimed me as a blood-sister and pledged herself to repay me one day."

"Well, she's now Baroness Sienae Nei'rrh of the Romulan Refugee Corps. And Captain Telvan's mother has sided with the Orion Syndicate to sway her loyalty against the family and what it stands for. She wants to force Enalia to give her a child and give it up to relinquish control of the family. It's wrong, and I will be standing by her in an upcoming tribunal to try and rectify this matter peacefully. To do this, we need more of the Baronesses on her side, and Sienae Nei'rrh's oath to YOU could turn that tide."

There was no shift to the expression on her face as Jaieh listened, but she was clearly processing the information. "YOU will stand by her? How will you be doing this, I wonder?"

Mona couldn't help but point this part out casually. "Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention that you're a Baroness now as well because of... Was it the trip to the black market auction with the Captain and Schwein?"

Looking somewhat embarrassed, Mnhei'sahe shuffled slightly as Mona talked about her status. "So, I will have a vote in this tribunal, Mother, as a Baroness. Which means I have my own ship and can pick my own crew."

"The Captain is willing to talk to Starfleet about your sentence in exchange for your... assistance in talking to Baroness Nei'rrh to try and get her support, which may influence some of the other Baronesses that are on the fence. Otherwise, the Captain's mother rests control of the organization and it becomes yet another slaver fleet in service to the Orion Syndicate... or worse."

Watching her daughter talk, Jaeih was blank faced, standing with her arms behind her back. She stood there thinking for a good minute before speaking again. "You may tell your Captain, that I am not unsympathetic to her situation. That said, I will have... criteria that must be met in order to assist her in this tribunal of hers. And those criteria are to be discussed with her and her only."

Pausing for effect, Jaeih nodded her head slightly. "And discussed face to face, not with a hologram."

"I will pass that message along, Mother. Thank you." Mnhei'sahe replied, matching her mother's flat tone as she spoke. "And... regardless of the situation... I'm... glad to see you."

"As am I, Mnhei'sahe." The elder Romulan nodded, keeping her expression blank as she stepped forward slightly, turning her attention back to Mona.

"You love her?" She asked the Miradonian pilot plainly, with an arched eyebrow.

Miradonians were simple, romantic, gullible folk at heart and Mona was no different, so she placed one hand over her heart and declared her love. "She is my light in this world and my inspiration as both a pilot and an inventor. She takes me to levels of joy and happiness that I never thought possible in my life and shows me that there is yet hope every day that I know her. Every time we touch I feel as though I have become whole and everything is right with the universe. She fulfills my heart's and soul's desires in every way and I would be lost without her. She is my Minay. Yes, I love her. Every fiber of my existence screams for her when we are apart."

Looking deep at the Miradonian woman, Jaieh squinted slightly as she thought. Allowing the slightest of smiles to crack her facade, she replied. "Well, a simple 'yes, Mother' would have sufficed."

Then she turned back to Mnhei'sahe, "Relay my message to Enalia. I will be waiting for her response. Jolan Tru."

And without waiting for any responses, she stepped out of range of the holoscanners and vanished and the message ended with a chirrup. Dox and Mona stood there for a brief moment watching the space where her hologram stood.

"Well... that just happened." Was all Dox could think to say.

"You should be proud of her, Minay," Mona said softly as she kissed her love. "She didn't lie once and almost slipped up and told me what in the Tal'Shiar she was trying to protect you from."

"I'm not giving her points for being honest for a change. Hopefully, the Captain will be able to convince her to help, but beyond that... I just don't know, Mona." Mnhei'sahe walked over and flumped on their plush couch.

"I want to let her in, but every time I do, she reminds me why I shut her out before. Ya'know?"

"Well, if she can piss off a Miradonian, she has some skill at that..." Then another thought struck the brightly plumed pilot and a look of horror spread across her face as she joined her love on the couch. "She doesn't eat chicken, does she?"

On the couch, Dox snuggled up against Mona. Their contact re-establishing their empathic bond the two had been working to strengthen it back up. It was a slow process, but they were making progress as the days passed. "When she went all in on Vulcan/Romulan reunification, she made us both go Vegetarian. I... gave up on that when I went to earth, but I think she's still vegetarian. Not that she wouldn't do that just to get under your skin."

"Yeah, I understand why you don't like her now," Mona replied, snuggling in tighter. "I'm so glad you're better than that."

Resting up against her bond-mate, Mnhei'sahe Dox didn't say what she was thinking. Instead, she just held Mona tighter, hoping deep down that she was better, but fearing that ultimately, she wasn't.

Bouncing out of bed, the tiny test pilot sat on the matter reclamator, reading through the orders of the day when a whoop was heard from the small room. Running into the living room of her quarters, the little lass the called ‘Leprechaun’ took a victory lap around the small room, arms raised in triumph as she simulated a cheering crowd sound. Diving through the shower and practically leaping into her blue and white flight suit, the picayune pilot scrambled to get her boots on.

Because today, the USS Hera Research and Development team was mustering for the very first time, and Fiona Mary Margaret Josephine O’Dell was not going to miss a moment of it. Skipping breakfast, she raced out the door to run for the turbolifts as fast as her short legs could carry her. Arriving on Deck 3, the upper deck of the Flight Deck a half hour early was preferable to her, because she was determined to enjoy every second of this momentous day.

The day started with much less aplomb for Ensign John Carrott, who had spent the night with his wife Mary bemoaning her aching back and ankles, an understandable byproduct of being in her third trimester of pregnancy. Carrott had done what he could to ease Mary’s pain, including late-night replication of increasingly odd food combinations.

As the lanky man read his orders, he was a bit confused.

What the heck do I have to add to an R&D team? Although I guess if worst comes to worst, I can at least keep them alive until the EMH arrives he thought. The lack of sleep was making Carrott a bit maudlin, but he did his best to put on a smile to greet the day.

After checking that his bright red hair was not too unruly, he headed to the Flight Deck, enjoying taking in the sights of parts of the ship he did not often frequent. Upon entering the upper deck, he greeted Ensign O’Dell with a smile and a wave.

“Morning,” he said with an approximation of confidence, “How are you today?”

“Móra na maidine duit, shipmate!” the bright-eyes and energetic little moppet replied, hustling over to greet the new person in Starfleet blue, which indicated science or medical. Stepping into the edge of the man’s personal space, the wee person looked up at the tall lanky redhead with a mischievous grin. “Well ain’t you the tall drink’a water! I’m Fiona O’Dell. I’m the test pilot fuir this project! Nice ta meetcha!”

Sticking out (and up) her child-sized hand to shake, the top of the irrepressible imp's head came up to perhaps the sternum of the nurse.

Carrott felt his customary slouch deepen as he reached down to shake the diminutive diva’s hand, but he smiled at her infectious good cheer. “Nice to meet you too,” he intoned.

“Aye! So are ye medical or science, man wi’ noo name? I’m curious which departments they drew upon to assemble our bright an’ shiny new department,” the brogue-bearing babe asked, making it clear that she was neither the shy nor quiet type.

Blushing to match his hair, Carrott said, “Oh, uh, medical. I’m a nurse. And the name’s John Carrott. I guess I’m not making a very good impression huh?”

“Nae, dinna ye worry!" the picayune pilot expressed breezily. "Compared to our resident engineer, ye’re positively sociable!”

That was when the two meter tall Tellarite junior engineer, Ensign Briaar Gavarus, walked in. Her frizzy platinum blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, she looked around the room, checking names off with the PaDD in her hand. The assignment was a result of her recent working relationship with the pixie pilot, Ensign O'Dell, but Gavarus was reluctant to feel even half comfortable in the setting and stepped in and to the side, waiting.

“Oi, Ensign Gavarus!” O’Dell called out, inviting the towering Tellarite to join in the conversation. “Come be social w’ our new teammate, ye great brooding behemoth!”

Rolling her eyes and letting out a purposefully loud groan, Gavarus walked over to the pair of redheads. "Fine. This is me being social."

Bulging her deep-set eyes slightly, the porcine engineer smiled as broadly as her thick jowls would allow in an exaggerated manner before letting her face flump back to her normal, default expression of exasperated irritation. "There. That's was my max. I'm Ensign Gavarus. Engineering." She offered her hand to the teal-clad nurse somewhat perfunctorily.

Carrott guffawed a hearty laugh and proffered his hand to Gavarus. “Ensign John Carrott, nice to meet you. I do enjoy working with people who speak their mind, so it seems I’m in the right place.”

Once everyone else was there, Mona finally came in, carrying a small case of PaDDs and a medical case and set them down at the head of the conference table. "Good morning everyone," she said cheerily as she headed to the replicator to get a cup of iced tea.

"Welcome to the official first day of the Research and Development Department. You've all been selected because you've all shown outstanding aptitudes and qualities in the areas I need for the projects I work on and after the Thunderchicken dance video made its way to the Captain... Ahem... My department request was finally approved. Tentatively. So... Does anyone have anything to add to that? Or should we go around and introduce ourselves?"

“Um, I don’t mind introducing myself, although I’m not entirely sure what aptitudes the CMO saw in me,” Carrott said with a mirthless chuckle, “Ensign John Carrott, nurse, Starfleet Medical Class of 2394. Gotta say, never expected to see half of what I have so far on the Hera, and I’m looking forward to seeing some more.”

"Ensign Fiona O'Dell, test pilot and Thunderchicken dancer," the small sprite with the mop of bright red curls grinned cheerfully as she raised her hand slightly. "Blame et on Ensign Gavarus. She asked fuir a jig, and that was the closest I could come. But ye give me a week or two and I'll make her sit oop an' dance fuir sure!"

Sighing slightly at O'Dell's energy, her pig-like partner in crime chimed in. "Well, I suppose that was my cue. Ensign Briaar Gavarus. Engineering assistant."

Mona grinned happily, enjoying the fact that she finally had her own team of specialized people that seemed to be as different thinking as her. "And I'm your new department head, Mona Gonadie. Pilot, inventor, and mad scientist. I'm the one that's created almost half the crazy things on this ship and the one missing from our new group has created the rest. Unfortunately, Yeoman Ila Dedjoy can't be with us today as she's having a new body built, but she'll be our support liaison of sorts. Any questions before we discuss our first order of business?" As she looked around the table, one hand rested on the medical case and the other rested on the small case of PaDDs.

The miniature maverick raised her hand. “New body built? I dinna ken that was an option fur Starfleet personnel…?” The note in her voice was one of intrigued interest, rather than the disbelief one might expect.

The brightly plumed Miradonian didn't see any need to hide the truth from them about this, so told them the simple truth. "Because of the manner of her untimely demise, she was able to occupy the android body she was building. With a little help, the rest of it is being built now in one of the classified labs in the pod."

The tall Tellarite's eyebrows peaked slightly as she listened. While the story sounded horrible, she was a natural born engineer and was seriously curious and hoped to be able to look at this body under construction herself. But she also noticed O'Dell's odd curiosity and leaned in, whispering. "I can make you robot legs if you want to be taller, but you have to take 'em with piggy feet. I only work in piggy feet."

“Ye kiddin?” O’Dell whispered back. “If I’m goin in fer legs I may as well get a whole chassis rework oot of it. I could be built like… well, half the women on this ship, ye know?”

Carrott sat there blinking for a solid 10 seconds before saying, “Wait, Yeoman Dedjoy? Um, I didn’t know her death was temporary. That’s… that’s really something. Wow. Does Doc know?”

Then, as if he was a train picking up speed, Carrott rushed to say, “If Doc doesn’t know, can I tell them? I’ve always wanted to deliver life-altering news to someone… well, the good kind, you know?”

Mona nodded in approval. "I'm not sure if they know yet, but as long as you limit it to senior staff and those in this room, yes that's fine. It's still a bit of a secret. Any other questions?"

"Are we g'win ta focus on the Thunderchicken or will we be workin' on the Cyclones as well, concurrently or on a timeline? Are there more projects like this? Hae we established testing parameters? Did ye install that manual gearshift betwixt the walker mode an' vehicle? Can we add subsidiary systems as redundancies in the Cyclones? Are... we..." O'Dell realized that her mile-a-minute questions weren't exactly what Ensign Gonadie had in mind, and she smiled sheepishly as she blushed.

"Ah, sorry, Ah get a bit excited soomtimes..."

Standing just behind O'Dell, Briaar Gavarus let out a snort of a chuckle as she looked down with a cocked eyebrow, "Sometimes?"

The brightly plumed Miradonian chuckled softly as she opened up the case of PaDDs and handed them out. "Those are all questions that are answered in our first official briefing. Our first official projects are the Thunderchicken and the Cyclones. Yes, the gearshift box has been redesigned and the new one installed. The upgrades for the redundant and relay controlled systems in the cyclones to match that of the Thunderchicken are ready to be installed and tested. And... We have about six other projects to test, including a new neurolink pilot control system that we need a medical professional to look over." With that, she slid the medical case over to Carrott. "The prototype is a pair of stick ons, but the final model should be a tiny implant, if all goes well."

“I’ll review the notes we have on Lieutenant Dox’s first attempt with nanobots. I’m sure there is something that I can extrapolate from there. Um, and I’ll need O’Dell’s most recent brain scans of course.” Carrott spoke evenly, but the way he was biting his nails occasionally spoke to a touch of nervousness with the idea of implanting things in someone’s brain.

"Better be a tiny implant, I only got a tiny head..." O'Dell muttered as she started flipping through the briefing materials, ooh-ing and ahhh-ing as she did so. "This is all dead exciting! What're we doin' first, or izzit all... oh wait, timeline, right..." The excitable little pilot slowly settled down a little as she stopped flipping and started actually reading the materials, occasionally nudging the engineer to point out another exciting technical specification or project goal.

Rolling her eyes, Gavarus muttered back, chuckling slightly, "I have a PaDD too, O'Dell. I can read."

"They taught ye to read? If Ah kin teach ya ta sing, we'll make us a fortune!!" the short smartass shot back, still taking in the material, eyes darting to and fro on the tablet. "M'guid wi'medical waivers and alla that if there's consent forms, I volunteer and alla that. Ach! Yuir recommending redundancies in the flight suits too, as well as additional insulation! Fire suppression too? Ach, bless yuir heart! Thermal heaters... ye're actually buildin' a flight suit, this is a lot more than joost the EVA armor, aye? This looks more like a survival suit..."

"Specialized for the Thunderchicken and the Cyclones for now, but a general use survival suit would be the ultimate goal after that." Mona replied to the suit inquiry. "As for medical waivers, they shouldn't be necessary, but that and more is where our medical expertise comes into play. You're scheduled for a test flight in the Thunderchicken simulator tomorrow morning using the new interface if Ensign Carrott can clear you and the tech. And you'll have to use your mind to move it."

"Joost me mind? Nae me hands and me skills?" For the first time, O'Dell sounded less enthused about something.

Mona chuckled softly. "The goal is to use both in synch with each other, but we need to test the neural interface first. There's no input side, it's all readings. The suit's HUD will relay any information. And that's why we're trying it out in the new simulator with non-invasive implants first."

Leaning over her diminutive friend, Gavarus commented, "It's all about your skills, Leprechaun. Brains and hands. Just don't forget to bring both."

The concept was intriguing, and while internally O’Dell doubted she had the brain power to make a neural interface work very well, she had confidence in the Thunderchicken. Overall, she was far more excited to continue learning to pilot the unique vehicle than could be dampened by nerves, so she maintained an open mind. After all, if she could use her own reflexes and seemingly unintuitive grasp of the spacecraft, she could work wonders, she felt confident.

“Aye ma’am, we’ll make her kick up her heels and showgirl, joost ye wait!” the enthusiastic Mariposian replied with a thumbs-up.

Thumbing quickly through his PaDD, Carrott looked up, bright-eyed and said, “Based on the information from Lt. Dox’s scans before and after Doc’s nanobots, I think I can see what we need to do here. But O’Dell’s brain chemistry is a bit different, and her baseline electrical potential is lower, so I need to know how many volts she’s putting off, so to speak. Got anything down here to register that with? Otherwise we can always stop by Sickbay and plug her in.”

"There's a small med unit assigned to us a few doors down that should have what you need." Mona pulled up a holographic map of the facilities they had been assigned. They weren't much, but there weren't many of them. "We have this conference room, two offices, one tech lab, one med unit, one simulator, and the work bays that the Cyclones and Thunderchicken occupy. Anything else we need, I'll have to coordinate with the other departments."

“Nanobots? I missed that in the briefing, what’s that all aboot?” O’Dell started flipping through pages looking for what was developing. This was rapidly becoming less of a piloting exercise and more of a medical experiment, which while she was trying to be enthusiastic, it was starting to worry her now. Aerospace test pilot did not usually mean medical test subject, and her stomach was tightening up quickly as she tried to get a better idea of what she was signing on for here.

“Nothing I’m going to try to replicate,” Carrott chuckled, “Something the boss did for Lt. Dox to help her use some new-fangled helmet that Ensign Gonadie came up with. It worked, really well actually, but it had some side effects, so that’s an ix-nay,” Carrott said, referencing pig-latin without stopping to think if his audience knew the vernacular.

“But it gives me a starting point for how to establish neural contact. I’m thinking a couple of probes at your temple, just to link up to the computer. Sound ok? That way you can rip them off if you wanna.”

“I guess… alreet…” The little test pilot’s enthusiasm at realizing that the project was much different than she had imagined was immediately putting her in unexpected and unexplored territory, and she turned to studying the materials more intently. What had started as excitement to put her skills to use was turning into something very different very quickly, and she was wondering if she was in over her head in the first five minutes.

Looking down at O'Dell, Gavarus squinched her face slightly. "Hey, O'Dell. Look at.this?"

The tall Tellarite held her PaDD down lower. "With this interface improvement, they're estimating a reaction time improvement of 6% in the Sims testing. Don't you think that if we bypassed the secondary torque regulators on the hip joints here with a magnetic slide connector, we could get that up to 10?" She was hoping a bit of creative problem solving might help lift the tiny test pilots spirits back up.

"No one is using nanotech," Insisted Mona as she shut off the map. "As for magnetic slide couplers, if you can get them to work without interfering with the gyros or overloading the SIF generator in walker mode, then you'll have proven why you're here. I'm an inventor and a flyer, not an engineer." Mona finally sat down, slumping onto the table as she did so. "This is one of the reasons I've been pushing harder for my neural interface to be tested - so we can actually do proper stress tests on these systems. So far everything we throw at them causes zero stress."

“Soooo… alla that spinnin and yankin and sooch I did on the flight deck didn’t strain inny of the systems a’tall, despite the speed I was jerkin the stick around? And the Cyclone oot there fried and dead in space dinna put inny stress on the system either? Seriously?” O’Dell clarified. Being told everything she’d done so far hadn’t accomplished anything wasn’t doing her confidence a world of good on top of the previous conversation.

“If it helps, I’m a little stressed,” Carrott said in an attempt at levity.

"The filament was extenuating circumstances. Other than that, the numbers have been amazing and we need to find the limits of those numbers. The current interface isn't adaptable enough to allow us to do that." Mona looked O'Dell over for a moment. "And you're the only one I trust for this as we create a new set of stress tests for our new department." Coming from Mona, that was deep praise indeed - she considered herself the best pilot and flyer in the galaxy and had made no qualms about grinding other scores in the sims to literal dust.

“Well, I been told I am stressful,” the puny pilot chimed in as she studied the materials. “So me brain power needs to be measured so I kin try to break the spacecraft, am I gettin' this noow?”

"That's basically our first goal for the prototype interface, yes," Mona confirmed. "We want to stress things enough to break."

Keeping her face and tone as purposefully neutral as possible, Gavarus leaned down to her Mariposian friend. "Oh, this assignment is going to be extremely fun, Leprechaun. You get to break things and I get to fix them. At this rate, you may see me smile on the regular if you're not careful." Then she repeated the creepy, toothy smile from earlier.

Carrott chuckled again and said, “Well heck, if we just want to break things, I can go replicate a sledgehammer. But in all seriousness, I just need a few basic readings and I will have an interface ready in a few hours.”

“Well, what are we waitin’ for then? Let’s get started!” The diminutive daredevil declared. “What’s first?”

"Sledgehammer wants to break things?" Gavarus added, smirking at O'Dell. "My schedule says I've got to start putting the Cherry Bomb back together... apply some of these adjustments. Aw, and I wanted to watch Carrot look for your brain."

“Ah dinna want to break things, she WANTS me to break ‘em. Nivvir been in that position before- usually, the job is to push it while keepin’ it in one piece, but I’ll do what I’m told. So, brain measurin’ then?” O’Dell looked around, eager to begin.

"Brain measuring,” Carrott said, rising to go with O’Dell. “Let’s see what we have in our med unit, shall we? Betcha I can find a lollipop for when we are done. Heck, I’m finding two. I want one also.”

"Before we all leave, our last order of business..." Mona prompted, holding up a finger. "Who wants to be the assistant chief? Any volunteers?"

“Not it!” chimed in the chirpy ensign. “Ah dinna want inny more responsibility than joost testin the capacities of the ships, thankye. Make Gavarus do et!”

Looking around, Gavarus raised an eyebrow. "Well, I love ordering people around."

"Sold! Dismissed!" Mona downed the rest of her tea and set her cup back in the replicator as she headed for the door.

"Well, we've got our orders, then. I'm on the Cherry Bomb, you two have a brain to scan and we can meet back here for the sim tests of the new interface first thing." Gavarus added.

"Ahh... delicious power. Fly, my monkeys! Hah! *Snort*

"Aye, see, the implant, kay, that's a tetch weeird, but I'm kinda okay with it, truth be told. But them nanobots... they git them nanobots inside yuir brain an ya go from lookin like a ventriloquist's dummy ta actually beeein one! That how the Borg getcha. One hypo, pff, here's some nanobots, yuir just a fleshy Borg now, go report fuir yuir robot parts." Bouncing along to keep up with the considerably longer legged Tellarite woman, the impish Mariposian tugged the top layer of her hair back to form a frizz mullet.

Walking slightly ahead, the Tellarite in question, Ensign Briaar Gavarus, was reading over the PaDD she had been given with her new work assignments from the head of the newly formed R&D Department to which the mismatched pair found themselves assigned.

"Joost talking aboot it gave me the heebie jeebies." The fast-talking leprechaun was on a roll, but her brogue was fairly light. Otherwise even the universal translator had trouble keeping up with her. "The Borg scare me. I think they oughta scare innybody. They're the livin' dead, plus an analogy of how our technology rules our lives. Tis a commentary on both elements of our society that makes them 'our enemy is us'."

"D'ya take that class at the Academy wi' Professor wassizname, the one that looked like a turtle? The class was conspiracy theories of the known universe? Stuff like 'Kahless' blade is still out there', aye? One theory that stuck wi' me is that when Q was standing on the bridge of the Enterprise baiting Picard, hes's actually filling the Borg into retroactive reality, dreaming them into being as an ironic petard 'pon which to hoist Picard. Because the worst enemy is us and our technology. Tis too ironic not to have been Q joost a-screwin wi' Picard, and by default, the universe."

Sighing slightly, Gavarus looked down at her hyperactive counterpart with a smirk. "I remember falling asleep in his class. Look, O'Dell, they aren't going to be putting nanomeds in you, so you don't have to worry about that. Did you read the medical report on when they put them in Lieutenant Dox?"

Waving the PaDD in her hand as she spoke, the porcine engineer continued, "the Nanobots moved from her ears to her brain where they accidentally caused massive cerebral hemorrhaging and a series of strokes that almost killed her. Like Carrot said, they aren't even thinking about Nanobots again. They're going to put some... diodes on your temples and go from there to test Gonadie's neural interface. So no Borgification for you."

As the pair approached Ten Forward, Gavarus let out a slight snort of a laugh as she spoke, "Which is a pity, really. The Borg don't really talk all that much, after all."

"Ah heard 'em that they're not gonna, Gonadie was vurrah clear on that, fuir which I'm grateful. It joost... it threw me is all I'm sayin'. I mean, what ye said, the Lieutenant's head is a lot bigger than mine, and I dinna want massive cerebral hemorrhaging. Me head'd pop like a zit! Oh, hello, hello," O'Dell waved at a few passing crewmen who were only catching part of the conversation.

"Plus the whole 'piloting with me brain' worries me a wee bit, and yes, I did hear her that it'd be a combination a' both, but it's... me brain ain't me strongest part, ye know? Hand eye coordination is where it's at for me, an' reflexes. Mah wee noggin isn't where me talent lives, joost me attitude. So sue me for bein' concerned by a vurrah new idea." Having entered the lounge, O'Dell chose a tall high top for two, so that the chairs would be tall enough for Gavarus to sit comfortably, as O'Dell literally clambered up into the tall chair to perch herself opposite her porcine partner.

"Oh for... you're going to force me to say complimentary things now, aren't you? Your reflexes, your hand eye coordination, all of your skills come from here, idiot." As she spoke, she pointed at O'Dell's diminutive noggin with the meaty, large and wide index finger of her three-fingered hand.

"And yes, I understand the irony of what I just said, HEY!" As the irritable engineer spoke, she waved down a server who had to resist the urge to wince at the sight of the notoriously difficult Tellarite.

“Yes, Ensign Gavarus, what can I get for you?” the server sighed, as all of the servers in 10-Forward knew who the temperamental Tellarite was, and how she was notoriously argumentative.

"Just a beer for me." Then, smirking, Gavarus leaned over to O'Dell. "How wasted are you planning on getting, Sledgehammer?"

“Aaaaaach, dinna call me that! On the long list a’nicknames people like ta attach ta me, that one’s me least favorite. Aye, I’ll have a half-pint a Guinness please, and a small portion of Shepherd’s Pie. What aboot ye? If ye dinna eat ye know yuir g’win ta be hangry later,” the diminutive dame observed- not that she had any proof, but broad assumptions often worked for the wee wonder.

"Oh, I'm always hangry, O'Dell." Gavarus grumped as she leaned over on her hand as she thought. "French Onion dip soup. Lots of cheese. Side of Bread."

As the server walked away, Gavarus mock-whispered to O'Dell, snorting out a chuckle as she spoke. "The servers in here are always surly. It must be you."

“Oh aye, o’course. Wi’ yuir winnin’ personality, clearly it must be me. S’because they dinna encourage underage drinkin, so they think I’m gonna get ‘em in trouble.” Looking around, the redheaded moppet Mariposian took in the early crowd. “Ye think we ought to invie Gonadie and Carrot? I know his wife’s pregnant so Carrot might nae be able to come, but an invitation would still be nice. And Gonadie’s the head a’ the department and the Lieutenant’s gal, but she might be glad for the offer?”

Leave it to the meter and a half midget to think that they should invite their boss out for a drink.

"That depends on whether or not you want your new boss to see what you're like with a drink or two in you." Gavarus took a big swig of her beer as it arrived ahead of their food. "For one, I think it would be hilarious."

Blinking her large green eyes at the engineer, the tiny test pilot started blinking rapidly. “Are ye sayin’ that I canna hold me liquor?”

Which was when the waiter dispensing their drinks, placed her half-pint before her as he interjected, ”Pretty much everybody knows. You’ve been in here every night trying to get people to sing along with your caterwauling, challenging people to bar sports we don’t have or trying to arm wrestle people once you’ve had a little bit to drink.”

Climbing up to kneel on the chair, O’Dell looked the waiter in the eye. “Come up here an’ say that to me face!”

Turning, the waiter offered a bemused smile as he said to her face, “You’re a cheap drunk, Ensign O’Dell.” He then scooted off to tend to another table, leaving O’Dell to comically and impotently fume as she dropped back down in her seat.

"See. It IS you. Still, considering that you get plastered on synthehol, I'm dying to see what would happen with actual liquor." Gavarus snorted. "But here you're ready to throw down already and you haven't even started. So, that's a very qualified 'no'."

“You and yuir ‘lookin oot fer me career’ and ‘tryin’ ta get me not to make an arse oota meself in front of the boss’. Ye canna fool me, yuir joost afraid if Gonadie sees me hammered she’ll can me, then ye’ll be stock with some boring regular pilot workin with ye, who won't be able to stand ye,” the bitty banshee shot back, as one thing they shared in common was sniping at one another, as both considered it good-natured fun. Taking a small sip of her stout, O'Dell changed the subject. “So what do ye make of the first day? And how’s the Cherry Bomb, will she fly agin?”

"Ah, the Cherry Bomb. She is currently sitting in more than a few pieces on the flight deck. 45% of the internal wiring and circuitry was either fried or fused. It should take another day to get her plugged back together and then we can run her though her paces again." Gavarus nodded, taking a drink as she talked.

"I'm also adding triple redundant back-ups and additional short shielding. I have an idea for a battery back-up system that can absorb excess feedback charges so that something like that can't happen again." Gavarus added, with a more serious tone.

“Aye, I like that idea. Independent power source for the comms maybe as well, so’s the emergency beacon kin activate at the very least, and a manual panel for basic comm operation in case someone’s suit gets fried, aye?" The little leprechaun sipped her beer, shaking her head. “I dinna want what happened to us to happen to innyone else. I think we mighta spooked poor Gonadie comin home all beat oop as we were.”

Pulling out her PaDD, Gavarus began taking notes as O'Dell talked. Where good ideas came from never factored into the Tellarite engineer's thinking as she added the suggestions to her proposal list. "Yeah. She looked like she was going to pop her feathers out right there in the sickbay when she saw you. So, she's quite determined to improve the systems to make these all safer and..."

I'm one breath, Gavarus switched from concerned and focused to irritable again as she leaned over towards the bar and called over to the server. "It's REPLICATED food! What are you doing, GROWING the molecules one at a time?"

“It takes extra time ta spit in it,” O’Dell offered cheerfully as she sipped her beer. “It does feel like we’re doin’ something important, aye? Alla the stoof we find will be built inta later models so whativvir flaws we find, others will never see because we’ll have found ‘em, eliminated ‘em and made the craft better. Is she building in redundancy systems so everything has it’s own processor, so if the main computer fries ye dinna hafta EVA to get her moving agin?”

"I'm putting in for a redundant backup processor for all systems. We've got the storage capacity, and it would solve multiple problems." As she answered, a thought occurred and she began writing more notes. "In fact, if we linked the processors with a dedicated buffer to block overloads, we could slave the back up to the main drive in normal operations and... carry that... quantify the percentage loss... increase processor speed by up to 60%."

While she downplayed her own intellect, O’Dell did know flying and flight systems, and her enthusiasm often translated to ideas that were not half bad. Which in turn the engineer considered, which was part of what made them a good team.

“Fuir crissakes, I’m g’win ta start gnawing on the table! Where’s me food?” the lilting brogue called out a bit louder than conversational level, even as the waiter arrived with both of their dishes.

“So sorry, we had to switch replicators because the main replicator in the kitchen broke down. I don’t suppose you’d like to come have a look, Ensign Gavarus? It’s coming on to the dinner rush, so it’s going to be a problem…”

Picking up a piece of bread, dunking it in her soup and taking an extremely large and LOUD bite, Gavarus stared blankly at the server for a moment, chewing.

"Just don't get in my way and... refill the drinks before I get back." She crawled out before chugging the rest of her beer for effect.

"Don't get in any bar fights without me, Leprechaun."

“Har de har har, ye’re a barrel a’laughs, ye are…” the diminutive daredevil snickered.

Which practically guaranteed that in the three minutes it took to go to the back, diagnose and fix the relatively simple problem with the replicator, a leprechaun bar fight was exactly what was happening when Briaar Gavarus returned to her seat.

The midget Mariposian’s drink was half empty, and the fightin' Irish was being held at arm’s length by a tall and lanky humanoid. While she was windmilling trying to get a punch in, the much taller humanoid male was simply holding her at bay with a palm on her forehead, the greater reach making keeping the snarly short stuff at arm's length an effortless task.

“Ye ding blasted trasna ort féin!’ ferdin culloch aur goabashite…!” the stream of invectives was likely quite foul if anyone could understand the squeaky spitfire. No one appeared to be intervening, as there seemed to be no actual danger save some paroxysms of laughter. Although Gavarus could see one of the rather beefy Security personnel moving in to break it up.

"Oh, what fresh hell is this? Three minutes to swap out a faulty crossover regulator and..." Gavarus was tempted to just let the Amazonian woman work so she could admire her from afar, but instead reached down to grab the rest of the heel of her bread, then lobbed it at the head of the smug looking red-shirted ensign engaging with O'Dell.

"Hey, think quick, pretty boy!" As she yelled, the man looked up and instinctively caught the small roll... with both hands. Which led to a sudden release of resistance, which caused O’Dell to stumble forward. Which might not have been so catastrophic had she not already been leaning into the stiffarm, which meant that the top of her head impacted rather solidly with the red-uniformed ensign’s groin.

Slightly stunned by the impact, O’Dell staggered back, bumping into Gavarus even as her erstwhile opponent stumbled back, clutching his wounded pride as the security officer snickered.

Propping her diminutive friend back up with one hand, Gavarus licked her finger and then made an imaginary check mark in the air with the other. "One point to Physics! And I think we can all agree that whatever that was all about is settled now, right?"

The Tellerite nodded over to the humbled Ensign Hovind and over to the security officer, hoping to smooth over the situation. A reality that did not come as second nature to the generally confrontational woman, but she didn't want them in the brig on the first night of their new assignment.

The large dark-haired humanoid security officer's sharp eye studied the wounded officer who was now seeking somewhere to sit down to relearn how to breathe. Then her gaze shifted to the slightly precarious puny pugilist, then to the towering Tellarite, and she raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question. At a nod from Gavarus, she nodded back, offering a little smirk that might have been a bit more than an acknowledgment of, ‘I see you’ve got this’ as the sturdy Security officer stepped away, returning to her post.

Looking down, Gavarus motioned the spitfire back to their table. "I swear, I can't leave you alone for a second. What the hell WAS that all about?"

“He said-“ O’Dell started, then she looked guilty for a moment as she climbed back up into the tall chair at their table. Looking out from under her brows at the look of disapproval on the swinish features of her friend, she rolled her eyes. “Fiiiiiiiine. He… said soomthin' nasty. About ye and me- well, mostly you, and I wasnae havin' it. So I tried to square off wi’ him instead of joost hittin him with a chair like I ought’ve. But I’m rubbish in a fight, so mostly it ended up bein' a comedy routine until ye showed oop. Thanks fuir the backup!”

"I can't have my test pilot getting in trouble by herself. Then you end up in the brig, and I have to work with Paulson. Ugh." Gavarus took a spoonful of her French Onion soup.

The rosy cheeks of the little lass were a bit rosier than usual, and it was clear that the literal lightweight was feeling her few ounces of dark beer already going to work. Picking up her spoon, she dug into the small bowl that held her layered traditional meal.

"So, what did he say?" Gavarus smirked over her shoulder at Ensign Hovind as he limped out of the room past the striking security guard that her gaze lingered on slightly, who noticed and offered the enlarged engineer a slighty raised eyebrow and a subtle smile. "I've heard it all, so I have to wonder if he had anything good, or if it was the same old crap."

“It was... I willnae repeat it,” the half-pint harridan harrumphed haughtily. “It wasnae something I’ll repeat because I’m a fookin’ lady. And nobody gets ta insult me friends wi’oot consequence. I’m used to alla the jokes, but…” The irony of the fact that both of them would easily shrug off personal insults, which they often exchanged with one another. Yet someone else insulting the other was what would move them to act.

"Well, I'm glad you were here to defend my non-existent honor. But honestly, that short circuit couldn't try to say anything I haven't heard before." Gavarus smiled at her friend, seriously appreciative of it.

"Soo..." Gavarus added at a whisper, "I think the security officer like... smiled at me. Like, 'smiled' smiled."

“Ooooh, the tall pile a'muscles girl over there wi’ the black hair? Ye did say ye liked ‘em big and burly, aye? And she dinna bust us fer brawlin, so that’s a guid sign.” For once, Fiona actually spoke in a low hushed tone and did not look up, offering no indication whatsoever that could be read at a distance. “Sooooo what’s yuir plan, eh?”

The enormous engineer was unusually nervous as she whispered back. "Plan? I don't have a plan. Pine pathetically from afar and then sulk about it later? That's a plan, right?"

"Ohhhhhh, Briaar, me big bosom buddy, me great gruntin' gal pal. You, my fine friend, are chums with a pilot. And if there's one thing growin oop wi' six older brothers taught me and flight school refined, it's how ta be a wingman." Pausing to shovel a rather large spoonful of food into her face, O'Dell's cheeks bulged as she chewed, eyes half-lidded with a look of contentment on her face. Swallowing the mouthful a bit at a time, she took a few swallows of her stout. Straightening up in her chair, O'Dell smiled smugly across the table at Gavarus. "Ye leave this oop ta me. Cyrano O'Dell's on the case. Sa tell meh, what's the first thing ye notice aboot her. Ye got a top three, so 'tis hard ta pick, but what caught yuir eye first?"

"A wingman? Really?" Gavarus replied with a scoff, taking a spoonful of her soup and slurping a bit louder than she might have liked. "I don't know. What am I supposed to say? Her personality? I mean look at her. She's built like a god-damned Clydesdale with tits. It's like a sculptor carved her out of granite, and did it to give other statues shitty self-images."

"Ahhhhhh, a challenge. Alreet, let's start there. A Clydesdale with tits isn't exactly the nicest compliment, but let's break that doown, aye? Is it her muscles? Her height... criminy, she's damn near as tall as ye. Izzit that she's a big, powerful strapping lass yet she still takes those wee touches joost to feel pretty? I mean, she's got a spot of makeup on, which tells us somethin, with them earrings clips in her ears that might be medical or cultural cuz they ain't uniform, and that big pile of hair on her head didn't get that way on it's own. Bet it's pretty long when she lets it doown."

On a roll, the perceptive pixie continued her analysis, all while continuing to eat little bites of her shepherd's pie. "Her fingers are wrapped, which means she hurt herself but she dinna want ta go to Sickbay over it, which means she either dinna like doctors, or she just shrugs off the little stoof. Alla them muscles dinna build themselves neither, so ye know she works oot a fair bit. and she covers the right hand wi' the left, but ye kin see a tattoo on it. Mighta used ta been Maquis, or joos likes celebratin' her body, more likely. What we ha' here, Briaar Gavarus, is a woman whose body is a temple, and she's proud of it boot she hasnae yielded her femininity to build herself oop. She knows she's intimidating ta most, so she's wary aboot lettin' people in. She's big and been that way a long time I'd wager- tis why she's in Security. She gets ta be the strong silent type, likely cuz she dinna know how to talk to people s'good."

"So, wi' alla that said, what's the first thing ye notice aboot her? Fer me it's that smile. It's a wee smile on a big girl, which means she's a bit shy. Which means she dinna share that smile wi' many, and 'twere it me seekin' ta woo the mighty maiden, I might start wi' tellin' her she has a pretty smile. What else go ye notice?" Through it all, The only time O'Dell looked up was to look at Gavarus, never the Security officer in question, and it was readily apparent that the midget of mayhem was not kidding- she was indeed a practiced wingman.

"Yeah, her body is a temple. Mine is an abandoned aircraft hangar with holovid hobos squatting around a garbage fire, fighting over who gets to gum the half-cooked mutant rat they found dead in a toilet." Gavarus ranted, trying her level best to keep her voice down, but projecting a bit anyway as she was unaccustomed to trying to be subtle.

"This is pointless, Fiona. What am I going to tell her? That her eyes are like goddamn singularities with their own goddamn gravity? That I want to climb her like a frickin' tree?" Gavarus went to take a drink of her beer before realizing it was empty.

Yelling across the room at the bartender, she waved her empty glass in the air. "Hello! I know the damn replicator works now! C'mon!"

"Well, actually, taken wi' a little bit o' dialogue in between, aye, that might joost work. Allays tell a woman she has beautiful eyes. Because that means yuir payin attention ta her, not her body. Yuir nae joost wantin' a quick swing on the monkey bars, but yuir interested in gettin' ta know her as a person. Because no woman wants ta be seen as just a slab of meat, but as a person, a whole person, and as much as we pick on our own outsides, we're all scared that other people would run away if they knew us on the inside." Clearly a Starfleet Academy education had not been wasted on O'Dell.

Internally, a little touch of old jealousy flared. If Briaar started a relationship with the security officer, that would cut out a lot of their hanging out time together, which was a very familiar scenario to the minuscule matchmaker. It happened often, a pattern with which she was familiar, and she'd see more of Briaar again when it was over, if it didn't result in a long term relationship. Which would mean they would still see one another at work, and Fiona would get invited to be the third wheel, but otherwise she'd be hunted down to be the confessor, the relationship advisor, or the shoulder to cry on.

This was a pattern with which she was very, very familiar. But she wanted happiness for her friend who didn't understand women at all, and being that selfish as to sabotage her efforts just wasn't in the little leprechaun. So she'd do her best to help, like always, and hope that she might not get left behind when romance bloomed for others.

"So eyes like singularities with their own gravity is good," the pesky pilot continued. "What else is pretty aboot her, what catches yuir eye?"

Eyeing the exasperated server as he quickly replaced her drink, Gavarus took a large swig. "Syntohol frickin' sucks sometimes." Then she let out a long sigh. "Seriously, O'Dell, I have about as much of a shot with her as you had of taking Hovind in that fight. Less, really, since you've got that crazy power when you get pissed. You could coach me all day but I'd forget every word of it if I... urp... If I even tried." A small burp leaked out mid-sentence.

"What do I have to measure up to that?" The porcine engineer put on a mock-sultry aire as she spoke, "Hey, Babe. Guess where my nipples are?" As she spoke, she began circling her fingers around the lower middle of her belly. "NOT sexy."

“‘Tis nae aboot measuring oop, Briaar,” O’Dell said softly. She hated to hear her friend who had so much to offer, put herself down, so it fell to her to raise her up a bit. “Ye dinna know what she finds sexy. Tis a big universe, aye? Tis less aboot what’s under yuir clothes, and more aboot what’s inside that counts. Ye’re a guid friend ya me, Briaar Gavarus , and ye’ve a lot to offer a gal. As mooch as ye stand oop fer me, I kin only imagine the lengths ye’d go to fer a loover. So dinna ye think ye’ve naught ta offer a woman, ye stubborn brute.”

"Did you seriously say 'it's what's inside that counts'? Oh my gods, Fiona. We're veering dangerously close to an afterschool special, here." Gavarus tried deflecting with sarcasm but didn't want to diminish her friend's efforts at the same time. "Seriously though... I'm just... I'm not going there. I just can't. I appreciate the wingmanning, but 'wooing' is just not... me."

But no matter how hard she tried to pretend that she didn't want to talk about it, she let out a long groan. "I should at least say SOMETHING, right? Even if it's just casual nonsense or whatever? Maybe get a feel and go from there?"

“Maybe say hello. Maybe thank her for not bustin’ me fer brawlin. Maybe tell her she has pretty eyes. Maybe don’t tell her she looks like a Clydesdale wi’ knockers, I dinna think that’d go over s’good.” While she wanted to encourage, Fiona also recognized that pushing the irascible engineer would just make her dig in her heels. “Ye dinna hafta say innything a’tall… ye could joost offer her a smile or a wink as ye pass by, and let her know yuir interested too and let her stew on that. Ye dinna have to become a Casanova wi’ tusks overnight, aye?”

Glancing briefly over her shoulder, Gavarus lightly fingered around the edge of her lip at the pronounced bottom tusks, common among Tellarites, that she actually had ground down as much as possible to diminish their appearance and scowled slightly that they were still so noticeable anyway. Turning back to the table, glad that the security officer's attention appeared to be elsewhere at the moment, took another long swig of her beer.

"Okay... yeah... fine. I could do that." Gavarus said, trying to build herself up, "I could just say 'hello' like a normal crewmember. Nothing unusual about someone just saying hello, right? I mean... okay... maybe a little unusual for ME to be sociable to a frickin' stranger but SHE doesn't know that I hate everyone, right?"

“That’s because ye dinna hate everybody, joost fools,” O’Dell observed, which wasn’t far off the mark. “But if ye say hello, that could lead to an actual conversation, so be prepared fuir what ye plan to say next, aye? Because yes, ye kin say hello like innyone else and tis nae unusual. Especially since she shot ye a smile, aye? For all ye know she might be joost as shy as ye. After all, to her mind she might be thinkin’ who wants a great big gal with alla them muscles who’s so much bigger’n anyone else? We’re all our own worst cheerin’ section, eh?”

The half-finished portion of the small meal was pushed aside as the bonnie lass of the Bringloidians burped behind her hand, then scooted back in her chair to lean her back against it. “Whoo, I’m stuffed!”

"Yeah, this isn't 'apples and oranges'. It's 'apples and ham'. Still... I will be kicking myself all night if I don't at least say 'hello' when we leave." Gavarus dunked what was left of her bread and sopped up the last of her soup in one bite somewhat aggressively now.

"I can do this. I've got my frickin' wingman. I'm an assistant department chief, now! That's a thing, right? C'mon. Let's do this!" The tall Tellarite woman declared as she downed the rest of her beer, and in a moment of nerves, grabbed the rest of O'Dell's Guinness and polished it off too.

The irrepressible imp couldn’t help but smile. Watching Gavarus down liquid courage before she made her move reminded Fiona O’Dell of her older brothers, all of whom had figured out sooner or later that their annoying little moppet of a half-sister was, in fact, solid gold when it came to helping them get in good with a girl. Gulping down their pint and what was left of hers was something that usually happened in the pubs back home, followed usually by a nervous opening and a crash and burn they’d kick themselves over later. As this was a pattern with which she was quite familiar, it brought a smile to her face. Mostly because the burly engineer was willing to screw up her courage and talk to the girl she liked.

Briaar Gavarus was no coward, and Fiona O'Dell would ensure that the crash and burn would not be so bad, assuming it would happen at all.

“Ye go ahead, I’ll be right behind ye, aye?” The wee wingman smiled reassuringly, eyes open and bright, trying to be as encouraging as possible to her anxious engineer.

Standing up front the table, Briaar Gavarus tugged down on her gold uniform top and cleared her throat before turning sharply towards the door and the looming security officer standing next to it looking like a goddess to the terrified Tellarite.

As Gavarus walked up, with the plucky Mariposian pixie skipping along behind her, her eyes darted nervously as she hemmed and hawed for a brief second before trying to talk. As her eyes met the piercing gaze of the Amazonian officer, she said, "Uh... Hello. I... I just wanted to say thanks for not making too much out of that little... um... whatever it was in there and I also... um..."

Taking a deep breath, Gavarus pushed on, "And, well, I also wanted to say BRRRUUUUAAAAUUPPPPP!!!!"

From deep in her flip-flopping stomachs, the massive amount of beer she had just chugged worked its way back up as a massive, bellowing belch that she caught in her now puffed out cheeks. As the carbonation made it's way up her nasal passage, her bulging eyes began to water as she swallowed the gas still contained in her quivering jowls.

Staring blankly in horror at the object of her affections, she turned on her hooves and stomped away towards the nearest turbolift as quickly as she could without breaking into a run, muttering a barely coherent string of obscenities under her breath.

Stepping up behind the departing embarrassed engineer, O’Dell smiled innocently. “She fancies ye, so she’s a wee bit nervous.”

Looking down at the height-challenged little officer, the towering Security officer blushed a bit, uncertain how to respond as she became suddenly self-conscious and awkward. Nodding, the Mariposian matchmaker nodded. “S’alreet ta be shy. S’charming, aye?”

Offering a cheerful close-lipped smile, O’Dell then bounded down the corridor after her friend before she died of shame and embarrassment. Somehow this was pretty much exactly what she was used to, and now she knew what she had to do. After all, this wasn’t her first flight as a wingman after a pint or two in the pub. Running along, she caught up to her pugnacious porcine pal at the turbolift. Saying nothing, O’Dell fell in beside Gavarus and gave her some room to vent.

And after a few seconds of awkward silence as soon as the turbolift doors closed, vent she did. "I died, right? Out there in the asteroid field? I got hit by a rock in the head and I died and this is some strange new level of hell that nobody warned me about, right? Because horrible death is INFINITELY preferable to what I JUST @#$%^ING DID!!!"

"Computer, Main flight deck." Gavarus was on a tear now, ranting faster. "We're going to the flight deck and I'm letting you step on me in the GODDAMN, MOTHER@#$%ING THUNDERCHICKEN!"

“Calm yuir teats, woman!” O’Dell barked, not unlike a yappy dog, but still attention-getting. “I’ll admit 'twas nae the most graceful of pick-oop lines, but she fancies ye too. E’en after ye belched a lager larf at her. Turns oot she’s joost as bashful as ye are, yuh great lummox. So ye dinna ruin innything, and I’m nae gonna stomp on ye. S’alreet, Briaar. Ye did okay, ye were yuirself and ye hain’t blown noothin yet, alreet?” Reaching up, the the wee wingman patted her friend on the shoulder. “Y’done good, and ye know I wouldnae lie to ye aboot sooch a thing.”

As the doors to the turbolift opened, and two young crewmembers tried to step on, Gavarus barked out, "It's TAKEN! Close!"

As the doors closed again on the shocked and confused faces, Gavarus grumbled, "Deck 9... hold!" Immediately, the lift froze in place as the agitated engineer fumed for a moment. "Wait, what? What do you mean 'she fancies ye... me'? Did she say something?"

“Well, not in s’many words, noo,” O’Dell admitted. “But I told her that ye fancy her and that ye make her nervous, and she got all shy and awkward. S’like me brother Angus when a gal fancied him, he’d get all ‘aw shucks an’ gawrsh’ and not be able ta look ye in the eye. So pretty sure she’s aboot as secure as ye are when it comes to fancyin’ or bein’ fancied.”

Rolling her eyes, Gavarus flumped against the back of the lift. "That is not exactly actionable data. For all we know, she was just shell shocked from having an insane pig-woman burp in her face. That's enough to make anyone shy and awkward... right before they asphyxiate to death. AAAAGGH!!! I suck so hard!"

“Yuir right. We may as well stoof an apple in yuir mouth and shove ya in the oven, ye’re so done. Ach, ye’re worse than one of my pigheaded brothers! Foine. Ye want to think ye struck oot and spend the rest of yuir life hiding from that poor lass and hurtin her feelins thinkin she did somethin’ wrong, ye go right ahead. I’ll nae try ta stop ye. Whatta I know, after all. Ye’re so experienced wi’ the fairer sex, ye clearly know best, ye great big bumbler!” With that O’Dell folded her arms across her chest and pouted. It was likely supposed to be a cross face, but on her it looked more like a petulant child’s pout. “Computer! Deck 9!”

"Oh my gods, REALLY?! Guilt? Now I have to have teeny tiny guilt... foonging at me? Ugh!" Gavarus folder her arms to match and rolled her eyes. "Frickin' FINE! But I am not going back there tonight. No way."

“Nay, ye dinna go back tonight, Belchy,” O’Dell advised as the turbolift doors opened, depositing them on Deck 9 where their quarters were located. “Ye let her think on it a bit and figure out how she feels aboot it and she’ll talk wi’ her friends or what have ye and next time ye see her then you’ll have the chance to make a second impression. At which point ye get to worry aboot that later. For noow, howbout ye know ye beer belched at her an’ she’s still interested. Howbout that, aye?” Just like that, the mercurial midget was over it, and back to cheerleading and championing the Tellarite’s lovelorn cause once more.

"You are insane. You know this and are clearly fine with it, aren't you?" Gavarus snorted as she commented, with the slightest of smirks returning to her face.

“Well o’course. Inbreedin produces all sortsa defects, doncha know. Plus I’ve a wee tiny brain, so ye canna expect much sense ta come oot of it, aye? Joost like it take s’long for a thought to reach yuir brain ye could lose a leg and not notice til ye fell off the barstool,” the pixie pilot shot back, needling her partner in crime.

As the turbolift doors opened onto deck 9, Gavarus started out into the corridor. "That explains so much. Anyway, I need another drink after that dumpster fire and I've got some Andorian ale that was left over from the Chief Engineer's wedding. C'mon, drinking alone is pathetic. Let's get schnookered."

“Schnockered? I’ll bring me thimble!”

On her schedule for after-duty obligations- which Commander Rita Paris tended to schedule as well, given her busy starship life- was an obligation to meet on the Holodeck for 'pirate training'. Ideally, this was to teach those of the crew who might be taking part some idea of how piratical combat worked. Or at least that was Rita's assumption- this had been scheduled by the Baroness von Alcott, so Rita wasn't positive that it was anything of the sort. But given that the name of the engagement was 'Pirate Training' that tended to lend itself to her belief that this was preparation for the upcoming Tribunal that the Captain would face, with whom a few of the crew would be standing by her side. Although in the old-fashioned officer's mind, the fewer Starfleet personnel the better.

Piracy in the 24th century was an odd puzzle to the throwback Starfleet siren. In her day pirates were simply bad. But in the complex times in which she lived, there were pirates and there were those who hunted them, and the distinction between the two was a bit too slender for her tastes. She'd watched discipline and morals go quite lax when piracy took over from Starfleet, and thus Rita worried about how the intermingling of the two might ruin Starfleet officers. The Baroness managed the tightrope act just fine, being a pirate amongst fleeters, and the Captain always knew where her duty called her. The only serious disagreements she'd had with Enalia Telvan were over piracy intermingling with Starfleet, and they had worked it out. But that wasn't everyone who would be involved in this Tribunal, and Rita still worried.

It was, after all, a component of her job, and one she took quite seriously.



But today was about training, and ideally preparation. So Rita would approach it with an open mind and an eye for detail, and she would keep her misgivings and trepidation private. Instead, she had dressed for the occasion in a saucy pirate costume to keep in the spirit of the exercise, strapped on her billy club and cutlass from her armor, and packed herself a phaser hidden in the ruffles of her short skirt. Now to maintain an open mind, and see how this exercise would go.

Stepping into the holodeck shortly afterward was Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox. Or, more accurately, Baroness Mnhei'sahe Dox. Like Rita, Dox chose to dress for the occasion, but rather than a costume, she was wearing the green military-style jacket with gold epaulets on the shoulders that was her uniform as a 5th class Baroness of the Captain's Artan pirate family. A rank she was inducted into only a few months into her service on the Hera, in part due to her families connection to the Artan family.

Hew wardrobe included tall, military boots and flared black pants. Belted to her back with thick, crisscrossing black leather belts were the curved, twin Caitian short blades that were gifted to Dox from the Baroness von Alcott for the upcoming tribunal. The handles mounted at the bottom, magnetically locked into their sheaths. Around her waist, another belt with an ornate gold belt buckle that housed the hip holster with her standard issue phaser. The entire wardrobe, however, seemed slightly loose on the red-headed Romulan woman who had been losing a noticeable amount of weight thanks in part of a combination of an extremely rigorous combat workout training regimen and restored Romulan DNA.

"Hello Commander." The slightly anxious young Lieutenant nodded in greeting. She knew Rita Paris was none too happy with her involvement in the affairs of the Artan family and hoped her decision to wear the uniform in question would not exacerbate that. However, the somewhat over the top ensemble Paris herself was wearing helped to relax Dox's nerves slightly. "I figured that if this is the outfit I'm going to have to wear for all of this, it made sense to start practicing in it."

“Seems logical,” Paris offered with a smile, gesturing to her own outfit. “I’ll not wear my uniform on the bridge of a Pirate ship, so I just dialed up ‘pirate hooker’ on my replicator and here we are. As you say, this is likely what I’ll be wearing, so I may as well get into the spirit of things.”

Which is when the Baroness Schwein von Alcott swaggered out onto the poop deck in all her Artan Family livery, including a hat and cape to match. She was armed with just her shortsword today and there was a parrot on her shoulder. "Guten tag! This program is old but Baroness Sarika assures me that she has made it compatible with your systems. We have been running it as a training adventure for years. It has served well, ja?"

The parrot piped up in Sarika's voice at that moment. "Train hard bitches! RAAA! Train hard!"

Poking a finger up that the parrot, Rita Paris’ eyes narrowed. “Don’t call me a bitch, or I’ll find a delightful recipe for roast parrot…”

The door opened again as the Andorian stepped through the doors. Unsure of what she was supposed to be wearing she had chosen one of the fleets engineering jumpsuits only with a black color scheme. " Hello everyone," she said as she wove to the others.

Again, Paris’ eyes narrowed as she saw the Chief Engineer of the Hera was participating in the exercise. Which meant to her mind that the engineer would be expected to participate in the Tribunal, despite Rita’s desire to keep as many Starfleet personnel from becoming embroiled in what she saw as a dangerous and potentially career-ending exercise. But she ground her teeth and kept it to herself.

While she was entitled to her opinion, these officers were volunteering to likely end their careers, and she would ensure that all of them were on leave when this came to pass. Beyond that, she mentally threw in the towel. Her old-fashioned concepts of duty and honor and ‘behavior unbecoming an officer’ were clearly in the minority at the close of the 24th century. The crew would apparently do as they saw fit despite any orders to the contrary, and that meant playing pirate.

For not the first time she reconsidered her own promise to the captain to help, realizing that she herself was setting the worst possible example.

Schwein shoo'd the parrot off her shoulder and it landed on one of the railings not far off. "Baroness Sarika is very colorful, ja? She may have added a bit much of her own flair to the parrot." She then turned to the Andorian. "Commander sh'Zoarhi, thank you for joining us. If ze Prinzessin's old engineer was still with us, your presence would not be needed, but alaz, Frau Blucher was lost in a Syndicate raid immediately after ze Tribunal was announced. Do you have a preferred weapon? Did you bring one?"

Looking a bit sheepish, Asa made their entry to the Holodeck, wearing old-fashioned scrubs in all white. “Um, I presume I’m here to observe what types of injuries to expect?” they inquired, “I, um, well, I’m not really good at combat, so, well, I guess I just want to help and hope someone can show me how.”

The doctor was carrying their usual medical bag, as if expecting to need to perform first aid in spite of the safety limitations of the holodeck. Given the nature of what they were preparing for, perhaps not a useless precaution.

"Indeed," Az'Prel replied, having followed Asa in, wearing a freshly replicated, far lighter version of her old armor in earthy camo tones. "Bladed and blunt force weaponry can cause unique and traumatizing injuries that can be far more life-threatening than energy weapons. It would be logical to have you here to offer extra training for emergency first aid treatment procedures."

“All right Baroness, it looks like we’re all here. What did you have in mind for this particular exercise?” While she was still far less than enthusiastic at the nature of the gathering, Rita Paris still recognized that structure needed to be maintained, so she did her part to motivate.

The Baroness grinned at the Voluptuous Commander and winked with her one exposed eye. "We fend off a boarding party, board their ship, and capture ze flag. We use zis for group battle strategies and sword fighting training in an unfamiliar setting. We often find ourselves unable to use energy weapons and in strange terrain, and zis is excellent training for zat. Once we capture ze flag in the treasure room, we win the scenario. Easy, ja?"

“Swordfighting practice under energy dampeners… all right. Ah, because the Captain’s mother is famous for her boarding actions. That makes sense.” Paris looked around, still uneasy about all of the Starfleet personnel present who were clearly expected to participate in the Tribunal. But that was apparently nothing she had a say in, so she had to let that go. “All right people, prepare to repel boarders. No energy weapons, we’re strictly hand powered on this one. Keep it tight, watch one another’s backs and protect the non-coms.”

Schwein pulled free her shortsword and raised it into the air. "Computer, begin program and provide swords for those that have none!"

Suddenly, instead of the ship being on a calm sea, they were in the middle of a storm and there was another ship alongside them. The other crew were fish people that looked like they were half humanoid and half sea creatures and they started throwing ropes over and swinging across in an attempt to tie the ships together and board.

The Sarika-parrot screeched loudly. "RAAAA! Boarding bitches! Repel the bitches! RAAAA!"

Taking a defensive stance as the scenario came to life, Dox reached back and unsheathed her short, curved swords, muttering at the foul-mouthed Parrot. "That woman has issues."

Then leaning back over her shoulder, she addressed Doctor Dael quickly. "Try and stay by one of us, Doctor. Keep close."

Momentarily taken aback by the sword in their hand, Asa quickly came to and set about trying to cut ropes wherever they could reach, calling over their shoulder, “Can they swim? Aren’t they just going to attack us from below if we dump them in the water?”

Schwein stared up at the sky for a moment before rushing over to slice at a holographic pirate near Rita and toss him into the water. "There is something wrong. The storm isn't supposed to be here."

“I’d like to say I’m surprised,” Rita muttered darkly. “Computer, freeze program.”

When that had no effect, Paris immediately began barking orders. “Form up! Let them aboard but don’t let them flank us! The safeties are off, so fight defensively until we thin out their numbers and defend the non-coms! Goddamn pirates,” Rita muttered, then glanced at Schwein. “Present company excluded…”


“Oh, of course, there is something wrong,” Asa muttered to themself, “Does anything ever go right in these bloody things?"

Then, shaking off the annoyance at the nigh-sentient-and-grumpy holodeck, Asa continued cutting riggings of incoming pirates as they appeared, listening for the tell-tale splash indicating a member of the boarding party had fallen into the depths below. Staying close to Paris and Dox, Asa said, “So, questions remains, can these beings climb up the sides without ropes?”

Staying back in the tight formation as ordered by Commander Paris, Dox kept her guard up as she began fighting off the advancing creatures with her twin blades. "Probably... but it should slow their advance a little."

As Az'Prel and Schwein took up flanking positions to the group, the infernal parrot dropped to the deck dead and squaked once more in a voice similar to Enalia's but older and much more cruel sounding. "I hope you enjoy the modifications to this, you fleeter swine. Not even you could survive this little trap. RAaaa..."

“Just in case I had any doubts,” Paris muttered. “What are the odds that this thing is set to send infinite waves until we’re overcome, Baroness? You are the expert on the mindset at work here.”

The silver-haired pirate flipped up her eyepatch so she could analyze the program around them. "Nein, it is hard capped at twelve at once with a respawn rate of thirty seconds. Everything changed is overlay data so I believe the waves are still set at six."

"So, we can still end the program if we get to that flag, then? Sounds like a goal to me." Dox added as she slashed away at the oncoming forces from the enemy ship.

"And I think she was expecting only me," added Shwein as she booted a fish-faced pirate to the head.

"Not in the mood to fight that many spawns," Paris muttered, sheathing the cutlass and beginning to uncurl the billy club. "Okay folks- these are not people, they are holograms, so carve them up. Capture the flag is the game, let's play to win. Az'Prel, Baroness, you're on point, Doc, Thex, watch our backs and let's try to keep close." Finishing unfurling the odd billy club, Paris bared the wide-bladed breaker sword she'd been practicing. "Landing party, move out!"

As the group began to press forward, the attacking fish-pirates brandished their own swords. Corrupted, the safety interlocks were gone and every one of those blades was now as deadly as any in the hands of the crew. Fully aware of the danger, Dox pressed harder to remember her lessons in swordplay from Baroness von Alcott and kept moving, her curved twin blades held backward in her hands as she attacked.

"Commander!". The red-headed Romulan called out, "They're attempting to lash the ships together to board... We let them and that will work both ways to get us over to their flag, I'm thinking."

Thex wouldn't admit it, but she was enjoying this. The holographic fish-man pirates were having a hard time reacting to her unusual fighting style. A grin formed on her face as with a flying kick she sent another one of the pirates over the edge of the ship.

“Excellent point, Miss Dox. All right, let it happen front line, just keep us a clear path until they’re close enough…. Aaaaand… now! Over the side, me hearties!” Rita wasn’t sure if that was a thing pirates said, but she was trying to get into the spirit of things. "Take their foc’sle!”

Schwein laughed heartily, getting into the spirit of things as she jumped between ships, slicing through one fish faced pirate and kicking down a second. "Give them no quarter, for we shall get none from them!"

Az'Prel silently tumbled over the railings and delivered a devastating series of kicks to a pair of fish pirates, ending in a spinning move that sliced both of their heads off with the rapier that the computer had given her. Looking it over, she commented emotionlessly. "It would appear that the holographic weaponry is sufficient for self-defense."

The portly pilot could fight and her sword fighting technique was improving, but what she wasn't was a jumper. Looking at the narrowing gap, Dox re-sheathed her swords for a moment and did her best tuck and roll from one deck to the other, landing hard.

"Imirrhlhhse! Letting out a grunt and a curse in Rihan, she rolled to her feet and pulled her blades back out as she pressed on.

With a run and a leap, Asa cleared the other ships deck....and then overcorrected on their landing, winding up awkwardly straddling a barrel next to Commander Paris.

Standing quickly. Asa said to Rita, "Um, sticking close, right?" then turned to check no one was sneaking up from behind.

"You're doing wonderfully, Doctor, as always. Well, look at them go... Thex! Quite dawdling back there, we've places to be! All right Doc, let's you and I try to keep up." As a door on the pirate ship opened, the next rush of angry sword-bearing fishmen poured out onto the deck to the rear. Laying into them with the two-handed blade, Paris was dismayed at how much heavier the weapon was without the power assist of the EVA suit, and how much less impressive the performance of the weapon when not driven by those same augmentations.

"Well, that's why we train. Cover my flank as we pull back, Doc. Miss sh'Zoarhi, WE ARE LEAVING!" Paris called out as she swung the great sword in controlled arcs.

"On it!" Thex yelled as she threw a hammer past Rita and Asa to collide with the fishy faces of the pirates.

With a solid kick, Schwein knocked in the double doors leading below decks and the way down was clear... Other than a 20lb cannon aimed straight up the stairs right at her. Ducking out of the way, she narrowly avoided having her head taken off by a cannonball. "Watch for cannon fire belowdecks!" With that, she headed down the stairs taking out a hammerhead shark pirate that had been manning the cannon in the process.

"Aye!" Dox yelled from near the rear as she continued to slash away at the remaining attackers, making sure they weren't bottlenecked from the rear as they advanced. Using the twin blades, she found herself in a one/two rhythm of blocking a blade slash with one sword and countering with the second blade to remove the hands that held the offending weapons.

Counting in her head as she fought, when she'd reached 25, Paris called out. "New wave spawning! Az'Prel, trade out to cover our retreat, everyone belowdecks, move!" Paris took her own advice. hedging the ship's doctor to move down the steps ahead of her as she passed by Az'Prel, in whom she had more confidence could cover their retreat in such tight quarters than Paris herself with the large and unwieldy blade she was using.

Were she a better swordswoman she might begin to improvise with discarded pirate weapons. By the time-tossed temptress was an amateur sword maiden, and her improvisational skills would pale beside actual expertise. Thus her internal tactician knew the calls to make, and the buxom blonde followed her instincts, honed as they were by surviving so much of what the universe had thrown at her over time.

Staying close to Rita, Asa called over the din, "They have exposed gills at the neck and the stomach. If you land a blow there, even if it's just a really hard punch, that should incapacitate them long enough to get by. That may prove easier than using a sword in tight confines."

It's a simulation, Rita. Drop the poor choice and start anew. Even if it was the real thing, nothing is truly lost in an age of replication. As the El-Aurian physician raised an excellent point, Paris grabbed the crossguard and slammed it into the deck at her feet with all if her strength, and it somewhat stuck into the deck, although not really. It was clear that the power assist of her EVA armor was what enabled that weapon to be effective, and now she knew. Lesson learned.

With a grunt, she raised up her leg and placed her foot on the wide-blade of the breaker sword to shove up the stairs at the incoming tide of fish-faced pirates. Rita closed her hand about the hilt of the cutlass at her belt, and drew it as the bell guard ratcheted into place around her hand. As the doctor had recommended, she readied a fist and the shorter close-quarters weapon and prepared to deal with their swarming armed opponents as they covered the rear of the expedition into the bowels of the pirate ship in the sword fighting practice game of 'capture the booty'.

A slight smirk came across Dox's face as she took Asa's advice and sheathed one of her two blades, leaving the one in her left hand out to block sword attacks as she threw herself towards a group of fish-faced pirates. When it came right down to it, while she often wasn't proud of the fact, the generally angry young Romulan woman got an inordinate amount of pleasure in fighting and was happy for the opportunity to switch to hand to hand for the close quarters combat.

An opening appeared to be forming in front of Rita, and Asa thought they saw a chest at the bottom of the stairs. Not entirely sure of what they were perceiving without the HUD, Asa called to the group, "Is that what we are looking for?" while pointing ahead.

"Ja!" Schwein called out as she punched one pirate in the neck and stabbed another in the crotch. Retrieving her short sword, she leaped for the treasure, only for it to dissolve right before she touched it and to be replaced with a door straight out onto the docking bay of a Miranda class starship with red and purple markings. The walls had flowery graffiti all over it, marking it as the property of Arenara Artan.

One of the pirates on the other side of that door laughed and took a swing at Schwein. "Hahahaha! The flag is on the bridge you stupid swine! I told you you'll never get out of this trap!" Without hesitating, the silver-haired pirate took off his head with her short sword.

"Imirrhlhhse!" Dox cursed at the twist in the program as it happened. "Baroness... if this program was only prepared for you, you might not be able to get the flag yourself. If Arenara wasn't expecting any of US, it might need to BE one of us."

"Then I will cover the rear while the rest of you claim the flag on the bridge, ja?" Schwein replied.

To Be Continued in 'If An Eye Offend Thee'...

Continued from 'Pirates of the Crab Nebula'...

Peering around the docking bay, Rita Paris fished around in her brief ruffled petticoats to withdraw her phaser from beneath her skirt. Securing it in her right hand with the cutlass in her left, she prepared to commando her way across what ought to be a familiar design for her.

"I can get us to the bridge." Pointing, she indicated "Fore, aft. Access ladders are over here, stay together, stay sharp. Let's go."

Following close behind, Dox made sure Asa was between her and Commander Paris as she sheathed her other blade to make the climb.

"We have to cross these cargo bays first, which is a lot of open ground. If we take a turbolift they can shut us down and keep us there until they redirect us to the brig on Deck 7. They can't seal the access ladder hatches unless the computer senses decompression though- that's a hardwired sensor into each one of those hatches. And somehow in all of the modifications to this old girl, I'll bet she hasn'r replaced those hatches. Let's go- fast, stay low, shoot to stun, assuming our phasers will work."

That was when a green disruptor bolt whizzed by, followed by a few more. "Well, if theirs work... move and fire people, let's go!"

An idea struck Asa and the doctor called to von Alcott, “Does she use any kind of privacy fields? Activating a privacy field in an area where we are not may serve as a distraction. If we make it look like we accidentally tripped a sensor of some kind elsewhere on the ship, it may buy us a bit less notice.”

"Privacy fields? No, but there are smuggling panels with sensor scramblers in several of the walls. If the sim is set up as her ship is..." Schwein punched in a code at one of the wall comm panels and lo and behold, it triggered several wall panels to slide aside revealing that instead of the normal support and power systems, smuggling compartments big enough to hold several people each had been installed. "The scramblers are at either side, ja?"

Firing at the pirates who were working up a charge, Paris called out orders. Miss Dox, Miss Az'Prel, buy us some time, please. Doc, Thex, let's move, access ladders are across the cargo bay, double-time!" Paris took off in a jog, leading from the front, firing her phaser as she did so. It wasn't terribly accurate, but offered cover fire.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied as she pulled out one blade and the phaser from her hip as she moved to engage the attackers to give the team time to do its job. "Miss Az'Prel, let's do this."

The displaced Vulcan popped one of the sensor scramblers and pulled a power cell out of the comm panel, wiring them together before tucking the makeshift device into her belt. After that, she picked up one of the discarded pirate weapons by the blade and almost casually tossed it, flipping it through the air so that it lodged itself in the chest of a puffer-fish faced pirate, nailing him to the wall. "I'm with you, Miss Dox, but I will need a ranged weapon for maximum effectiveness." Having said that, she picked up another of the discarded weapons and prepared to throw it.

Holstering her phaser for a moment, Dox unsheathed her second blade as she eyed an oncoming horde of pirates, the lead brandishing a large disruptor. "One moment, Miss Az'Prel."

With a loud cry, Dox ran towards the lead Pirate as it raised it's disruptor to fire. But before it could, she crossed her twin blades in front of her slicing off the creatures arm, disruptor in hand. As it fell, she picked it up and tossed it across the room towards Az'Prel, hand still attached."Hnaev!! Sorry. Thought the hand would have let go. Ew!"

"Thank you for the hand," replied Az'Prel, not even skipping a beat as she removed the offending appendage, assumed a kata stance with the disruptor and her sword, and started firing into the group of pirates, each shot hitting a lethal spot as she performed a dance of death, moving closer to them with each stance change.

Moving alongside Rita and Thex, Asa called out, “Lurker, 9 O’Clock!” as a previously unseen foe rose from a hiding spot well concealed in one corner of the room. Lacking a weapon, Asa did the only thing they could think to do and reached into their med bag, grabbing the heaviest vial in the bag (one that contained compressed plasma for emergency transfusions) and threw it with all their strength at the head of the would-be attacker. The vial hit the enemy directly in the forehead, and although it did not knock him out, the assailant was stunned….which was only compounded by the vial beginning to leak and a spray of pinkish compressed plasma exploding on his face and torso.

"Ugly way to die..." Paris muttered.

The ladders were, unsurprisingly, exactly where the Constitution-Class expert remembered them being, and Paris promptly shot a pirate attempting to climb down to assault the invaders. Scrambling up the ladder with practiced ease, Paris confirmed that the deck above was clear before sliding back down to Deck 6. “Come on, people, no time to dawdle! Up the gangway, let’s go go go! Miss Dox, you are in the lead, Miss Az’Prel, you have rearguard. Doc, Thex, let’s go!”

As she barked orders, Paris was still staying low and maintaining suppressing fire, her phaser set on stun.

Following orders, Dox sheathed her blades and holstered her phaser and quickly scrambled up in the lead. As soon as she was clear, she pulled her phaser back out to join Paris in covering the rest of the team.

Wasting no time, Asa followed Dox up the ladder, staying close to her heels.

“Thex! Stop kicking that man and get up the ladder!” Paris ordered, eager to get to the higher decks where very few opponents would be able to get at them. But if they dallied here to long, the pirates would tumble to their plan and ambush them on the upper decks.

Schwein was up the ladder as well, still scanning with her cybernetic eye. "Ze code here looks wrong... Almost like..." With a scream of pain, the silver-haired pirate clutched at her eye and collapsed to the deck. "Ach... Visual virus... Did not expect that..."

As soon as Schwein had screamed, Asa was running to her at a trot. Dropping to one knee, the doctor scanned quickly, looking for the virus impacting the Baroness.

“That’s…..nasty,” Dael concluded, “This thing has been outlawed in every civilized system. The virus attacks cybernetic components and then go on to attack the nerves connected to the device. This,” Asa said, injecting a hypo into von Alcott’s thigh muscle, “Is a nerve pain blocker. The meds needed to erase the virus are in Sickbay, for all the good that will do us right now. Long and short of it, the more you use the eye, the faster this will progress. I highly recommend limited use of your cybernetic eye until we can get you to Sickbay and get this taken care of. I’m sorry, Schwein, I didn’t think to carry curatives to a virus originally designed to fight the Borg.”

Crouching over Schwein's position to keep her friends covered, Dox looked at Schwein's eye, then up to Commander Paris with a concerned look but said nothing. This was exactly what the two women had discussed concerns over in their secret planning meetings: That the Captain's mother could use the cybernetics of the Baronesses against Enalia.

"That iz ok, Herr Doktor... Zis only proves... How dangerous zis woman iz..." Once Asa was done, Schwein flipped her eyepatch back down to at least limit the input to her cybernetics a bit and did her best to stand up, albeit shakily and leaning on a wall, clearly still in considerable pain. "We must press on, ja?"

Grabbing the silver-tressed space pirate under the arms, Paris got under the woman, hanging the shorter woman’s arms over her neck and shoulders as she carried von Alcott on her back. “Nobody gets left behind, Baroness,” Paris grunted as she bore the woman’s weight. Holstering her phaser and cutlass, the courageous commander began to climb. “Up the ladder, here we go… you just hang on and we’ll get you through this.”

In the meantime, Az'Prel had finished off the last of the pirates on the deck below them and had made it up the ladder, her armor splattered with fish guts. "Rear guard reporting in. Lower deck clear and ready to proceed."

"Bring up the rear, Miss Az'Prel, with my compliments. Miss Dox, advance and secure the next deck, if you please," Paris remained calm, adapting to the situation as it developed. Flexible in mind and spirit, this was one of her greatest strengths- the ability to change course and continue toward the destination, replotting as the course required, and keeping her crew moving.

Taking point as ordered, Dox put her phaser handle in her mouth as she began pressing up the ladder to the next deck. As soon as she was within a ring of the top, she grabbed her phaser and held it to the ready in anticipation of an ambush.

Even on a holodeck, holographic pirates simulated breathing, so the red-headed Romulan with exceptional hearing paused to listen. A slight smirk went across her face as she picked up the sounds of shuffling and breathing from the deck above.

She could see the ceiling of the next deck, and had a fix on where the attackers were standing and stole a play from Lieutenant Sonak's book. Setting her phaser on a wide beam of high intensity, she sprayed the ceiling in a wave above where the ambush was going to come from, sending a bursting wave of instantly liquified durasteel raining down towards the pirates.

Instantly, she reset for stun as she heard the pirates cry out and rolled up onto the deck, opening fire on the small grouping, stunning them as they continued to try and rub off the Sparks. "All clear, Commander!" she called down the ladder.

Hauling up the ladder, Paris was surprised that the space pirate on her back was more lightweight than she had imagined. Somehow she assumed the Baroness would be heavier than she herself, but she was surprisingly lightweight. Arriving at the next deck, Paris ensured that the landing party was still together, and nodded. “Continue, Miss Dox, until we reach Deck 2. Then we’ll make our plan to storm the bridge.”

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied as she continued up to the next deck with the team close behind her. Listening again, she this time heard nothing but that silence made her nervous. Even uncorrupted by an evil Pirate queen, the Holodeck simulations learned in combat mode and she decided on a different tactic this time in case these pirates were just not breathing on the next deck up. But to her surprise, Deck three was clear as she leaned in ready to fire, her head just barely peaking in.

Still, it didn't feel right and the red-headed Romulan desperately wished she was wearing her EVA armor with her HUD display to let her know if anything was down either side of the Jefferies tube stretching out port and starboard into darkness. Instead, she decided to trust her gut which told her this was too easy.

"Commander, I need your phaser for a second. I need to test a hunch here." Dox leaned back down with an outstretched hand.

A hand came up, holding an old Type 2 pistol-style phaser by the detachable Type 1 phaser of its day, the handle protruding upward towards the Lieutenant’s outstretched hand. This was not a moment to be tossing phasers about, and Paris was oddly safety-conscious at times.

Taking a breath, with a phaser set on medium spread but high power, the anxious Lieutenant brought her feet up on the higher rungs and rested her back against the top of the interior of the hatch, just below its lip as she released her breath. Pushing with her strong legs, she slid quickly up the top of the hatch opening like a red-headed Whack-A-Mole, firing with a phaser down both ends of the darkened Jefferies tubes.

The light flared down the tubes flashing brightly as, in both directions, the beams stunned small groups of fish-faced pirates waiting in the darkness like snipers. The sound of multiple targets hitting the deck plating of the tubes let Dox know the coast was clear as she handed the phaser back down. "Okay. One more deck to go, Commander."

“Perfect. Let’s regroup on Deck 2,” Paris replied, insuring that the ships surgeon and the chief engineer preceded her up the ladder, even as the enigmatic Az’prel covered their rear. Once all of the landing party were assembled on Deck 2, the curvaceous commander laid the injured Baroness down on the deck as she stretched and considered her options.

“Well, using the turnbolift shaft is a possibility, as we could pry the doors open and assault from there… but I suspect they’d be expecting that. By now they know we’re coming up through the access ladders, but that just means they’ll be ready to fire if we come out that hatch. In this particular case, working with what we’ve got…” Paris' mind raced as she reviewed their assets and considered what could be done with the materials at hand.

A moment later, the door to the hatchway access on the bridge of the Miranda class opened, with a number of phasers trained upon it. No one was there, however, save for one gold-clad arm flinging a single small object onto the bridge. It was an old-style phaser, of the era before even the Miranda class starships… an old-school phaser which was whining and cycling louder and louder until the overload it had been set for reached it’s zenith, and the phaser exploded on the bridge.

As it did so, a mob of angry pirates poured onto the bridge to assault the stunned and injured pirates, engaging them in swordplay and phaser fire.

Leading the charge was Az'Prel, their mirror universe refugee. She rolled in, shanked one pirate through the rear with her sword while firing her liberated disruptor in the face of another, pulled free the sword of the shanked pirate, flipped that sword through the air into a third pirate, hopped up onto the bridge rail so she could kick another pirate in the face, stepped off the back of the command chair to land on the helm controls like some sort of superhero, and put another disruptor bolt in the forehead of the last moving pirate.

Surveying the remains of the bridge, the Vulcan woman found a suspicious chest in the command chair but otherwise it looked normal enough to her eyes. "Bridge is clear of hostiles, Commander. One suspicious package found."

“Well done, Miss Az'Prel. Please do me the courtesy of inspection and analysis, if you will," Paris replied as she climbed out of the hatchway onto the bridge, the Baroness borne on her back. “Let us assume this is a bomb, at the very least an anti-personnel device,” Paris called. Bereft of any technology to do anything else with, and with the Baroness’ medical tricorder out of the loop, Rita was getting the hang of this asinine pirate thing, and starting to see how it worked. “This being holographic I cannot imagine that it will give us any clues, but let’s operate on an assumption of a trap.”

With a nod, Az'Prel shot the lock off with her disruptor, then crouched to the side with one of the pirate swords, carefully lifting the lid away from everyone else. It didn't immediately turn into a door like the last pile of treasure and nothing bad popped out immediately, so the Vulcan woman peered inside, opening the lid the rest of the way.

Which was when the cruel laughter of a woman that sounded like an older version of Enalia began.

Inside was a chibi plush of Arenara Artan laughing at them sitting on top of a pile of gold, wearing a white pirate outfit complete with gold brocade and a silk cape. Inside was also a note.

'Congratulations on getting through this, my daughter's little piggy. Just because you survived this little trap though, don't expect to survive the Tribunal. I have other ways of dealing with you.'

"I am beginning to get a real disdain for this woman," Rita Paris muttered. "Computer, freeze program."

The computer obliged, the sounds and displays of the modernized bridge paused, and Paris looked around with satisfaction. "Perhaps in her vanity she's left us something to find."

Tapping the ancient Starfleet delta on her chest, Paris called out. "Paris to Chief Clemens. I want an intel team in Holodeck 3 for analysis, please. We're going to see if she left us any clues as to her systems, the layout of her bridge. She might just have been vain enough to give us a look around. Let's see if we can't turn that to our advantage."

Schwein pointed out one of the stations along the port side wall as she leaned against the bridge railing, looking like she was about to fall over. "There. That's her boarding controls. Next to it is her internal shield systems. Ja, this is her bridge."

Az'Prel noticed something as well and headed over to a station decked out in chrome and red metals on the starboard side. "She has an agony suppression field system." Turning back to Commander Paris, there was something in the Vulcan's eyes. Not quite fear, but something close to it. "The Terran Empire of my universe was experimenting with this technology. It can turn any pair of forcefields in close proximity into an agony booth."

"Nouhha..." Dox muttered under her breath at Az'Prel's words and the implications of it as she stepped over to help her fellow Baroness as needed.

"Baroness... she wasn't planning on you surviving this. Is any of what she did here actionable in the tribunal? Evidence that can strengthen the Captain's case? I mean, she actively tried to assassinate you." Dox asked.

Schwein shook her head, nearly falling over when it made her dizzy. As she steadied herself, she answered. "Under ze Tribunal, no... After it, ja... Zis is... a dangerous time to be without a crew as threats like zis may be made during ze proceedings. Ze weaker crews are likely to claim to side with us but vote with her in the end because of zis. Ze Prinzessin has forbidden such acts... For obvious reasons... But ze Queen ignores her in this. Az do ze first class Baronesses."

Putting it together in her head, Commander Paris stumbled across an uncomfortable question. "Baroness, pardon the bluntness of my question, but your tricorder- is it modular in nature or uniquely hardwired?"

"It was installed at the compound before I met ze Prinzessin. Ze interface goes deep into mein occipital lobe. I know of no other like it." The Baroness looked over at Rita curiously.

"See, that's a problem," Paris looked pained at the topic, but pressed on, however unwillingly. "Because we know for a fact your cybernetics have been compromised, Baroness. We need to find a way to clear them of any influence. Otherwise, I hate to say it, but you're a security risk. For all we know you're transmitting as we speak. Which we'll bend ops and science to determining. Baroness, I assume you have some antivirus software of your own as well?"

"Ja, on mein ship," the pirate replied, realization dawning on her. "Which could also be compromised. I suggest you quarantine me until I can be cleared."

"Stay here, we'll have Science and Intel cooperate to get you cleared and see if we can identify what she's using. meanwhile, if you'd be a guide to the intel teams on what we're seeing here it would be appreciated, Baroness. Doc, make her comfortable if you would, and we'll get to work. Baroness, we'll wait until you're cleared then you can lead the sweep team onto your ship." Looking over at the makeshift agony booth, Rita Paris shook her head.

"Quite the dislike for this woman..."

Slowly, the large double doors from the newly established office of Research & Development opened onto the flight deck of the U.S.S. Hera.

Stepping through, silently, strode two figures clad in glistening armor. Towering in her golden EVA suit was the Tellarite engineer, Ensign Briaar Gavarus, who was taking long, dramatic strides through the billowing steam of the hydraulics as the steam and smoke hissed out of tubes at their feet.

At her side, clad in shimmering crimson was the diminutive Mariposian pilot, Ensign Fiona O'Dell. The significantly shorter young ginger took two steps for each of her larger partner's to stay alongside, the mists swirling around them as they walked onto the cavernous expanse of the flight deck, all eyes on them.

"Shiiiittttt..." Gavarus muttered under her breath. "I am still so goddamn hung over, Fiona. Everything feels like it's moving in frickin' slow motion."

"Aye. If they're g'win ta be usin' me wee bitty brain ta move the Thunderchicken today, she's liable ta be holdin her head half the time," O'Dell replied. In truth, she wasn't nearly as hungover as Gavarus, but only because she had passed out early, her low body weight and low alcohol tolerance taking her out long before she could thoroughly wreck herself as had the far sturdier argumentative engineer. She'd been the one to wake up, curled into a ball on the couch, when her tiny bladder woke her up for her 6 AM evacuation, having missed her 2 AM and 4 AM.

Stepping out on the upper flight deck, the odd couple greeted the team.

"Ensign O'Dell reportin' fer duty, Chief," the sparkplug spacer stepped up to take the lead and distract from her partner's hangover. "Whattiya say? Ready ta plug me brain box into a mecha and see if I get exponentially more annoyin?"

Mona looked up from the stack of PaDDs she was looking over to grin knowingly. "That is indeed the goal, actually. You think about moving and the system will try to compensate and mimic it."

As today was to be a simulation run and not an actual test drive, it would be accomplished with a pair of external nodes to see if it improved the reaction time, and as Carrott applied the stick-on probes, O'Dell muttered under her breath, "Carrott, me old sock, ye think ye might be able ta hit me with an anti-nausea? I'm a bit nervous and I dinna want to boak in me suit, aye?"

Chuckling to himself, Carrott went and grabbed a nearby hypo,"Aye O'Dell, here you go. Um, is Gavarus ok today? She looks.....more stabby than usual."

"She might be bearing a wee bit of a hangover from last night, so if ye have something fer her, it'd likely be a godsend ta the rest of us if ye could dose her wi'it too. Well spotted, Mr. Carrott," O'Dell whispered, a surprising subtlety from the ordinarily loud little lass.

Carrott nodded his understanding, and went to the replicator to procure a 'Toast' as he called it when he passed a glass out to everyone in attendance. In truth, it was nothing more than sparkling pineapple and orange juices which the fire-haired man had added extra electrolytes into, as well as a low-dose of pain relief snuck into Gavarus' glass.

"Here, this will cheer us all along. It's nothing that will impair anyone, just a drink to cheer the day, my own concoction," Carrott said, passing out small cups. "To our first endeavor!" he said, raising his glass high.

"Aye, to our first simulated flight wi' an all new flight control system that might joost revolutionize spaceflight. Or cook me wee toiny brain. Sláinte mhaith!" the small stereotype starpilot raised her glass in the traditional toast of her people.

"If I smell anything cooking I'll be sure to... eventually say something." Gavarus grumbled as she perfunctorily raised her drink then quickly downed the concoction. "Pineapple? As the resident pig, should I be worried if a luau breaks out?"

"Only if we build a nice pit fire and bring out one enormous spit. Besides, yer too bitter, ye'd taste awful," O'Dell chimed in. "So yuir safe. Now, let's get to... simulatin... aye? What's the plan for today, mum?" the minsicule Mariposioan directed her question at the Miradonian head of the department. "I've some ideas if ye'd like to hear 'em?"

"Please... No more talk of eating people..." Mona's feathers looked as if the color had drained out of them. "You can chatter away about whatever else you want, but that's where I draw the line, ok? As for our plan, toss those probes on your head and hop in the sim and we can begin. One behind each ear and one on your forehead to monitor your stress levels."

"Aye... sorry ma'am. I'm all hooked up." O'Dell stepped into the simulator. "Alreet ma'am, ready when you are."

"Excellent." From the outside, Mona engaged the simulator systems and activated the neuro-impulse drivers, the cockpit of the Thunderchicken forming around the petite pilot and the capital city of Meroset 347 forming around it. "Ok, everything is showing in the green. Just relax and think about walking."

I dinna think about walkin, I usually think aboot catchin oop, O'Dell thought to herself. The lack of actual controls was frustrating to her, and her first impulse was to grab the stick and to start working the throttles and pedals. After all, she had spent years learning how to fly, and she had adapted to the walking mech quickly because it had seemed intuitive. This was neither her training nor an extension of it. This was using just your brain to move something, and in trying to second-guess how that worked, nothing was moving on the Thunderchicken at all while the tiny test pilot concentrated on moving it with her mind.

Relaxed she was not, having already gotten in trouble for banter, uncomfortable in a situation she wasn't prepared for and trying to counter all of her years of training to operate a vehicle psionically. After standing there doing nothing, she flipped the comm switch. "Could I maybe use me hands and feet a little to get started, Chief Gonadie? I dinna... m'not rilly sure what I'm doin' here?"

"Do whatever makes you comfortable, Fiona," Mona replied through the comms. "This is your time now."

Exhaling a huge sigh of relief, the midget Mariposian inserted her hands into the control gloves, then planted her armored booted feet into the stirrups, where they strapped in automatically. Given that previously her piloting had been completely manual, without the interface of the EVA armor, that element alone made a world of difference as she began moving and testing the reactions. The motion response sensors in the armor that enabled the power assist translated directly to the much larger mech, to produce much closer to instant reactions.

Opening and flexing her fingers produced the mirrored reaction in the mech, which made O'Dell giggle slightly. Raising her arms and rotating them was reproduced as well, and like a professional pilot, Fiona ran down the checklist of preflights, ensuring that all of the systems were fully operational and checked out, before she did more than take a few experimental steps. Which included running a weapons inventory check, as this was the first time she had encountered the TR-116C.

"Holy Mary Mother'agawd, willya lookit this beast? Replicator matter magazine, 80-120 rounds depending on ammo used...normal ball point, hollow point, incendiary, delayed tracer rounds, and marker round ammunition. Only single fire and three round burst enabled, what a shame, eh? Wait, no, also full auto, I see... micro-airburst, smoke grenade, rubber, low yield plasma grenade, and tear gas grenades. Wow. That'll take a bit o' gettin used to," the professional pilot ran through her inventory of onboard weapons. "Pair a'Photon torpedoes- there's a joke in that fuir sure. And a'course a heavy phaser pulse cannon, nice. Got to watch the power outputs on that I'd wager... alreet."

As she spoke, running through the inventory of weaponry options aboard, the mech continued to respond, even bringing it's hand up to rub under the cockpit in thought while she contemplated the options. Given the opportunity to use mind and body, O'Dell seemed to have adapted to the machine almost intuitively.

"Alreet mum, I think I'm checked oot and ready to take a run aboot. I was actually planning to ask for some urban environments, so this works spot on," O'Dell broadcast, the mech's hands moving to mimic the tiny test pilot's own body language. "Would ye mind if I kept her on the ground today? I want to see how she'll handle having to support her own weight in gravity, and see if I kin get the hang of getting her to walk and run and maneuver. Tis alreet?"

"Go break some stuff. Once you feel comfortable, we'll add in a few enemies for you to fight, ok?" The brightly plumed Miradonian leaned back in her seat and sighed, a grin spreading across her face. This was going better than she had planned.

Watching with a PaDD in her hand, monitoring the signals that were lighting up like the proverbial Christmas Tree, Gavarus chuckled. "For someone who was convinced that you wouldn't even get this thing to twitch, you are making this thing mimic your body language unconsciously, ya' know?"

"Ach, I talk wi' me hands like any Bringloidian lassie would, so makes sense she's movin. Alreet, let's see here... scanners gi'me a layout of the streets and potential hazards, so... " Taking a deep breath, the redheaded spitfire cut the feed to her microphone, not realizing that because it was a simulation she'd still be heard. Closing her eyes, she let out that breath, then took in another.

"This is yuir big chance, Fiona O'Dell, so dinna screw it oop. Joost do what comes naturally, and twill be alreet. Ye're nae g'win ta let innyone down- yuir a test pilot now, go show 'em what ye kin do." Turning the mic feedback on after her little pep talk, the Thunderchicken, in walker mode, took an experimental few steps forward, then back.

Smiling, Gavarus resisted the urge to chime in that they could all still hear her as she knew it would rattle O'Dell's concentration, but made a mental note to rag her about it in Ten-Forward later.

Balancing on one foot, she trailed the right leg to put it on pointed toe behind her, dug in and shifted the weight of the mech to pull an about-face. The unbalanced machine wobbled and it clearly wasn't happy about the strain on the servos, but O'Dell nodded, the nosecone and canopy nodding in agreement.

A few sidesteps were hastily executed, much as she had demonstrated in her first flight. But now they were far more fluid, far smoother than those initial attempts. With a look both ways, she hopped, both legs lending their power to the defiance of gravity, and she landed evenly. Taking a few more similar small hops, she nearly lost her balance and had to recover, arms windmilling until she reached out with one hand to brace the mech against a building that crumbled a bit at the size and mass of the mech.

But once all of that was accomplished, the squat mech began walking forward. Realizing that the extended barrel of the TR-116C would drag the ground like this, O'Dell adjusted and tried a 'port arms' position, but the mech's legs kept bumping the weapon. Swinging it around to remain somewhat even with the nosecone, she twisted the mech at the waist to test the clearance radius. Seemingly satisfied, O'Dell let out a long breath.

Then it broke into a jog, one foot in front of the other as the mech picked up speed. As she rounded a corner the Thunderchicken teetered, on unsteady footing and the excitable ensign had to slow to compensate. Once around the corner, the mech picked up speed, the petite pixie in the cockpit giggling at the novel sensation of being able to stretch out long powerful legs and not skitter along.

The Thunderchicken walker mode mech was in a full-tilt run by the time it came to the next corner.

Leaning into it, knowing the weight differential would be working against her, the fingers of the mech trailed the ground on the inside edge of the curve. Despite her precautions, she still impacted with the side of a building in righting herself, which spun the mech around. But O'Dell was calm, piloting by feel as well as the complex instruments and systems she had available to her. This was far more than just being humanoid, this synthesis of humanoid and machine. The quick-reflexed pilot pulled out of the spin, transferring the velocity into more forward movement as she kept up speed, and the Thunderchicken was now running through the streets of the simulation, clocking in at a running speed of 56 kph.

"It's a whole lot easier wi' the suit on, Chief Gonadie!" O'Dell reported as she skidded into another turn to the right, the mech's footing sliding as she compensated. "I kin feel the feedback, get a real feel for how she's handling. Alreet, let's try..." as the mech approached an open courtyard with a fountain, O'Dell attempted to leap over it. But without engaging the flight systems, the mech couldn't clear the fountain, caught one foot on it and plowed into the cobblestones of the plaza.

Shaking her head, the linked mech attempted to do the same, and it took a moment for O'Dell to get the mech back on its feet and righted again. A long crack was now evident in the canopy, as well as scrapes down the front of the dented nosecone. "Ah, so, she's no vaulter wi'oot the flight systems... sorry aboot scratchin the paint, there."

Mona chuckled softly as she looked over the data, logged the damage, and punched in a reset of the Thunderchicken's systems. "That's why we're doing it in the simulator first. Don't worry about the damage - I'm resetting it now. Next time you jump, think about jumping higher or something and it should activate the engines and give you some thrust. In walker mode they're limited to about twelve percent to keep from overloading the SIF, but that should give you enough to clear almost all the buildings there with ease. In fact, I bet you might even be able to use the thrusters in the feet like hoverskates once the day is out..."

"Aye mum. I'm deliberately runnin her wi' nae flight assist so's we kin get a feel fuir what she can do on the ground, reet noow. Might Ah have a magnetic lock for the rifle on me right leg, ma'am? T'would free up both hands when the weapon's not in use, and twill cut the imbalanced load on that side when I'm maneuvering, aye?" The fae flygirl shook out her limbs, the Thunderchicken mimicking the moves. Engaging the system, O'Dell followed the HUD guide to the manual gearshift in the flight control yoke and literally shifted the walker mode into robot mode, reclining the seat so she wasn't pointed at the ground as the canopy did so.

"It'd be nice if the flight couch slid itself in transition to robut mode, and a tall pilot is g'win ta have a spot of trouble wi' their head and the canopy methinks." Invited to give her input, Fiona O'Dell was not at all shy about offering it on the wondrous vehicle she'd been assigned to test. "The power supply in the rifle's self-contained- could we get palm plates and grip plates so's the rifle kin draw upon the vehicle's power source, and potentially ammo packs, and or loaders from the palm unit, mum? Put it in the offhand it it might help make up for that weight differential, aye?"

As O'Dell spoke, Gavarus was entering all of her ideas into her PaDD and running numbers on the data as it came back. "I can prepare sim tests for all of those suggestions, Ensign Gonadie. But this is all gold, I'm thinking. The conversion servos are coming back with 36% stress readings. High, but still within operational limits. I think it's ready to get a real workout."

"Yeah, we finally have some real stress data. None of this point three percent BS." Mona was making notes as well. "Try mounting the rifle under one of the arms with the maglocks. That might keep it out of the way while you run. As for the cockpit, I'm enabling full transformation mode, if you want to switch it it." With a few keystrokes, a few interlocks in the chickenwalker were swapped out and the transformation control system inside the cockpit had a third, humanoid mode added.

Mona looked up at Briaar and winked. "Secret that wasn't ready for the live model until this was in testing."

Tilting her head to the side with a smirk, the Tellarite engineer chuckled. "Well, not THAT secret. All the conversion bearings and gyro settings allowed for the extensions beyond the Gerwalk mode so I was figuring on something like this. It's still extremely impressive. I've seen specs for similar concepts that no engineers could get past the drawing board."

Then Gavarus called up to O'Dell. "What do you think, Leprechaun? How's that for dancing shoes?"

There was a moment of turning, twisting, moving this way and that. It was a bit of a different perspective for one's eye level to be in one's chest, but O'Dell found the sensor mounted on the phaser cannon that formed the head, and opened a broad viewer window on the canopy amongst the numerous other control systems she was monitoring, taking a moment to modify sizes and placements in the control setup so that she could keep an eye on critical systems for what she was doing at the moment, which was getting a feel for the upright mechanoid.

"Ah could use a drone fuir eye in the sky, as an option," she muttered mostly to herself as she moved about in subtle flexes and investigating clearances. The SIF generators enabled one arm to slide along the other without any friction for the most part, unless she really pushed the point. Squaring the fingers of the mech out before her like a movie director framing a shot, she scanned the local terrain until she found a series of streets with one and two story buildings.

"Alreet, obstacle course time. Let's put her to the test and see how she does." Plotting a course over the rooftops, using the houses as hurdles, O'Dell plotted her course, then the mechanical hands came together to crack their knuckles, the phaser mount cricked itself on it's gyromount as if it were rolling it's neck, then it high-step jogged in place in an impressive display.

Then she took off at a run, reaching out to the first rooftop to vault over it like a pommel horse. Hitting the ground on the other side, she crossed the street in two strides before she was up and onto another rooftop, which shuddered under the weight of the mech but held, as she leaped for the next rooftop. But the power assist was far more than O'Dell had compensated for, and the mech overshot its mark. Sprawling into a landing, the SIF generator in the cockpit froze her in place for ger own safety as the mech plowed through a building, receiving considerable damage in the process.

"Looks like mebbe that's g'win ta take a wee bit more practice before I kin get her to run through a city like a superhero, aye?" O'Dell reported from the cockpit where numerous alarms and warnings were dominating her HUD field.

"Shhhii..." Gavarus began to curse and cut herself off as the alarms all popped up on her own PaDD, monitoring the scenario. The feed from O'Dell's EVA suit was reading all green so she knew the pint-sized pilot was okay, but she still had a moment of concern for her friend. But the irascible engineer pushed past that to review the damage data. "We have multiple stress fractures on the outer hull. The internal cockpit shielding kicked in and kept the pod secure but I'm reading 63% power loss on the left leg coupling from a blown connector. Rerouting from the backup pathways now. We also have a reaction time lag being affected by the sensory feedback processors. But that lag means they're doing their job protecting her from feeling anything from the impact."

"Sensors are reading heavy joint stress on the wrists, knees and shoulders and there's a blown interlock on the right elbow joint." Gavarus completed her initial report.

"Yeah, good for light combat and scientific surveys... And a far cry from the last mad scientist that made one of these. His fell apart every time it transformed. I'll try re-configuring the SIF generator to compensate."Mona programmed in a few new settings and reset the damage, dumping the current data into the log. "There we go. The deflector should add internal shielding to help the SIF out now but you might see power dips across the weapons systems."

"I could be wrong, but venture to say Robo mode might not be the best of ideas, ma'am. The walker mode has some elements of humanoid function in the arms and legs. I'm thinkin' makin' it walk around like a person might be a tad too much strain on her. The more comp0act body style might lend itself better. But let's give her the right proper bangin though, aye?" With that, O'Dell plotted an alternate course down a wide street. "Let's see if he kin keep oop a head a steam, for exploration purposes. Only time a pilot's gonna be tryin this is if the flight systems are doown or in urban warfare, and t'my mind the walker mode's superior. Buuuuuut... how fast can the Thunderchicken cross the road?"

Taking a few steps to work out the gyros, little by little O'Dell leaned into the run, and arms and legs pumping, the mech emulated her and began running down the street at a surprising speed. With the power assist and only minor course adjustments such as going around pedestrians of vaulting over horses and carts, O'Dell got the robot mode up to 69 kph before she herself started panting. "Whoooo! Takes it oota ya ta do that... M'thirsty as the dickens in here. maybe an IV or somethin, or a drink dispenser..."


“The EVA suit should have a canteen attachment for the pilot,” Carrott agreed, “As well as protein bars and stim shots for emergencies. Her vitals are elevated- heart rate, blood pressure, Adrenalin levels, body temp- all signs of a strenuous workout. The potentiometer in the probes are also reading higher than normal neural activity, so this is taxing mentally too. That will need to be taken into account to formulate training regimens and recommended duration for the pilot.”


Mona couldn't help but chuckle softly. "Sounds like someone is getting a good workout. Do you need a short break? Maybe a juice box or some string cheese?"

There was a pause at that, then came, "Ohhhhhh, no ma'am, I'm fine. S'alreet, no bother a'tall, I can handle it. So what... what did ye want to do next?"

"If you're sure..." Mona called up the next scenario - Minotaur hunting. "I've loaded in fifty Minotaur for you to use as target practice. Your shoulder launchers can lock onto ten targets and have a payload of twenty micro quantum torpedoes, but the rifle should be enough for them. You should also have a few demolition targets on your HUD as well now."

"Alreet mum, as ye say. Keepin' boots on the ground, ye want this as a walker or robot test?" It looked funny when the mech moved to mop the sweat out of it's eyes, as O'Dell worked to calm her breathing and heartrate. One thing she'd learned all throughout her career was never ask for a break, don't take one if offered, and if anything she'd have to push twice as hard once they smelled weakness in the pint-sized pilot.

"Back in walker mode for these tests, if you please," Mona replied.

"Aye aye, convertin' ta walker mode." Once again, the HUD showed the gear train, and as O'Dell shifted down into the more compact walker mode, she unslung the rifle and prepared to start marking targets. She noted that the underslung phaser cannon wouldn't target- apparently they were immune to phaser fire.

The picayune pilot shrugged, as the mech attempted to emulate it. "Should get a good recoil test oota this scenario. Okay, urban pacification mode against Minotaurs... that's an odd one, but hey, who am I to say. Alreet, let's start the scenario..."

To Be Continued in 'Jump Around'...

Continued from 'Just to the Left of the Right Stuff.'

As the streets cleared of civilians, while the mech and monsters took the field, Ensign Fiona O’Dell could see a great horned minotaur at the end of the alley, who promptly started charging toward her position. Moving her arm to make the mech’s arm level the rifle, O'Dell selected hollow points, as the target didn't appear armored, and fired a semi-automatic burst down the alley. Which she followed by another and another as she took the measure of the Minotaur.

With the size difference and the rifle being slightly scaled up for the Thunderchicken, the hollow point rounds found their target and turned the head of the Minotaur into a digitized censorship box as the target count cycled down to 49, while censored remains faded from the simulation.

"GREAT DAY IN THA MAARNIN! Alreety then, that's... so, controlled fire, aye." Noticing on the scanners a Minotaur was advancing on her six, O'Dell swung the rifle arm over in a 180 and fire to the rear, taking the Minotaur through the chest and eliminating him before swinging the rifle back over into the conventional position. Studying the current target, she hugged herself and stroked her chin, and the Mecha emulated her actions.

Playing back the scanning data, she established movement patterns, then asked for the computer to predict likely movement patters. Working out the probables, O'Dell manually charted a course through the opponents, using the city streets. She'd improvise going over them if need be, but not taking to the air would make her considerably less conspicuous.

With one screen open to her proposed route, and the other open to current sensor data, O'Dell started the a countdown timer to start the clock.

"Alreet, time trial, as well as a test a'me strategy. Here we goo, get ready ta make sum noise! Computer, play Fiona O'Dell fight songs playlist, track 13, in 3... 2... 1.."

A blare of trumpets announced the song, and the Thunderchicken was off and running, to the strains of 'Jump Around'. The nosecone of the walker bobbed as it ran, as within it, the moppet pilot bounced her head in time to the wild tempo of the beat of the song. "Toime ta introduce you lads to the House 'a Pain!"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XhzpxjuwZy0

As she skidded around a corner, O'Dell brought the rifle up and stitched off a burst, then another at a second minotaur on the same street. The gyroscope in the weapon had a harder time with the recoil of the second shot, but given that the gyros in the vehicle were what was making the computer targeting and firing accurate, O'Dell's job, to her mind, was the easy part. Running a bit up onto a wall as she cornered proved to be a bit too ambitious, and she lost stabilization and the Thunderchicken took a tumble.

The sensor data on Gavarus' PaDD lit up instantly as the Tellarite engineer's bristly facade cracked with immediate concern, "Fiona!" She yelled into the comm.

Quickly realizing her slip in protocol, Briaar course corrected, trying to look unconcerned and professional. "The... uh... Lateral torque sensors are showing multiple stress fractures. Structural integrity is down to 53% after that last impact and we've got a power loss to the rear aft gyro stabilization control."

Then she shot an angry look over to Carrot that all but screamed for an update on Fiona's vitals without saying a word.


“Vitals elevated, but holding steady to their last reading,” he said softly.

"M'alreet, joost... misjudged that turn was all... M'still on the clock... I got this..." O'Dell reported, straightening one leg to enable her to roll the walker mode over and right the craft, then picking her self up, so to speak, retrieving the oversized rifle from the debris and hustling up the street.

“Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin… I came to win, battle me that's a sin,” O’Dell murmured as she used the beat to balance her action, running the walker mode into an intersection and pivoting at the waist to fire at each of the Minotaur targets in turn, as the computer targeted them and all she had to do was authorize the burst of fire when the waist joint pivoted to face the target. As first one, two then three of them fell, the mech shifted its weight to shimmy a bit before loping on to the next target, a demolition target guarded by a quartet.

Switching to a single shot, she fired at the bell at the top of the shrine, drawing the attention of the guards around it before firing three tear gas grenades. Moving in on the demo target, she eliminated the two visible Minotaurs, as the smoke did not hinder the sensors. Hustling into the plaza, she came around the corner to fire at the third Minotaur, even as the fourth charged her.

“If you've got the feeling, jump across the ceiling,” O’Dell sang along with the ancient Irish rappers in her tinny voice. Thinking fast, O’Dell engaged the flight systems and hopped into the sky’ leaving the horn-headed brute to plow through a wall, even as she peppered him with hollow points, eliminating him as a threat. Landing quickly, she cycled her ammo to low yield plasma grenade, and ratcheting the arm back, she fired behind her as she hustled down the street toward her next target, running away from the explosion at reasonably high speed.

"Fiona..." Gavarus called on the comm, forgetting they were on duty and that first names weren't exactly professional, "Watch your speed. The right knee joint is showing stress ratings over 60%. It took some damage on that last fall and the more you run, the higher these numbers are spiking."

“Well, the chief wanted her stressed. We’ll drive her to 80% then I’ll switch over ta thrusters and we’ll see how well the chicken can skate,” O’Dell replied, although she did reduce her landspeed to reduce the strain on the joints. Field testing was one thing, but in a real situation, a pilot wouldn’t be able to get a reset on the damage. So O’Dell would press on, even as she rounded the corner to run into three of the brutes who had converged, and she chugged out a burst of automatic fire into them, the firearm kicking without her using the off-hand as a gyromount, but the trio of targets were close enough together that it didn’t matter.

As for O’Dell herself, the mech kept mimicking her activity of mopping sweat out of her eyes, as the physical exertion was pushing the little pilot harder than she had expected. Flying a runabout or shuttle was not in the least bit physically demanding. But in walker or robot mode, every step the mech took was a step she took as well, and the athletics the exuberant ensign was exercising were definitely wearing her out.

Not that she was going to complain or admit it her weakness. This was her chance, and the plucky pilot was determined not to give anyone any excuse to exclude her from the project. She’d sooner pass out from heat exhaustion, which, thinking about it, she lowered her EVA armor’s internal temperature by ten degrees to help compensate.

"Man up midget, ye've work ta do," she muttered to herself as she gripped the rifle with both hands, then ducked around a corner to launch a grenade down the street at another demolition target. As the explosion blossomed, she was already off, trotting to her next target in her perennially replotting course.

“Heart rate elevated another 15%,” Carrott said, “Adrenalin spiking, body temperature increase by 1.5 degrees. I strongly recommend we cease simulation within the next 15 minutes, or if these readings go up any more.”


Taking in the tactical overview from the sensors, O'Dell mapped out the streets between a number of the Minotaurs. As the nose cone and canopy of the mech canted off-keel to approximate the tiny test pilot tilting her head, suddenly the nosecone bobbed.

"Aye, time ta fly a kite methinks!" With that, the walker mode Thunderchicken loped off at a jog, until the mech came to a corner. Activating the thrusters on low, the itty bitty astronaut pivoted out into the road, firing a single shot to wound the Minotaur, who roared in pain. As he charged, she cut the jets and started running into the concentration of them that were now gathering, converging on her position. As she rounded a corner, she ran into two more only a dozen meters from her, that she sidestepped and ran down an alleyway to connect with another main thoroughfare. Pausing to take a pot shot at one, she pegged him with a single round, even as the one on the southeastern end of the street turned to pursue her. Running across the thoroughfare, the quartet she had bottled up in the alleyway swarmed out after her, even as the two on the street converged on her position.

"Alreet, we got six... noow let's see.... if they canna get me... a few more!" Firing a few airburst grenades as flares, the tiny terror watched the scanning data, watching the minotaurs converging on her position. "They got noo game... these lads. All cock... and bull an'... horns, but they dinna even... throw rocks."

Monitoring the feed from inside the cockpit, Gavarus was fixated not on the readings from the Thunderchicken but in what she was seeing from Fiona O'Dell. She noticed each gasping pause as her best friend tried to catch her breath. The bio readings from O'Dell's EVA suit were elevated and running higher and faster and Gavarus didn't like it.

As more and more of the minotaurs poured into the wide thoroughfare she'd chosen for her ambush ground, O'Dell began targeting the horde chasing her, although now she was having to use power-assisted hops from the jets to keep her ahead of the stampede behind her. All of which she was managing, but she was definitely loping more than running now.

"Alreet... ye clowns," O'Dell said between gulps of air. "Mama got herself a... micro-missile launcher... an' she's got a target lock... on ten of yuir pointy little heads... So guess what... that means?" Without looking back, O'Dell fired off the micromissile barrage. Ten missiles roared out from the variable fire missile pod, to swarm over her shoulders as they individually sought out one target apiece. Another barrage followed and another as the targeting computer did it's job and blasted apart two score of the marauding beasts.

As the smoke cleared, the mech's arm was leaning against a building as the other hand held it's side. Inside the mech, O'Dell was wheezing, holding a stitch in her side that had grown into a full strength cramp, and she couldn't catch her breath to wisecrack. Pointing the rifle up, she used the wall to steady her as she fired off a plasma grenade at one of the demolition targets within range. Then the Thunderchicken backed up against a wall, and sank down to a sitting position.

"Ah joos... Ah kin do et, joos.. Ah need a minute is all, mum," O'Dell gasped. "I'll get it, Ah will, Ah swear."

Having seen enough, Gavarus decided to step in. From her PaDD, with access to the Thunderchicken's inner workings, the edgy engineer began punching in instructions to the machines inner workings for a somewhat elaborate lie. "Uh... I screwed up, Ensign Gonadie. Shit! During O'Dell's last volley, I rerouted power from the hydraulics to the internal dampeners and the... Uh... the system is overheated and shut down. I'm ending the sim."

The porcine engineer knew O'Dell was pushing herself too hard and the system feedback had become too much for her, not the mech. But Gavarus wasn't going to let O'Dell hurt herself rather than give up. So she shut down the Thunderchicken herself with a bit of faked engineering incompetence on her own part.

She knew Gonadie would see right through it, but hoped the Miradonian engineer and pilot would figure out what she was doing for her friend.

All O'Dell could manage was to mutter to herself in between labored breaths, and offer a nod of acquiescence.

Carrott called to O’Dell, “Do you need assistance getting out?”

“Nae, mmm… I’ll be foine…” O’Dell managed between wheezing breaths. The mop of bright red hair was soaked with sweat, a dark stain of it coloring the front and back of her flight suit, and her hands were a bit shaky. It was abundantly clear that post exertion, the miniature Mariposian was struggling to catch her breath. It was quite obvious that despite her protestations, she wasn’t going anywhere soon as she promptly threw up her breakfast, coughing around it. “Sorree… m’okay… joost... joost need a minute...”

Carrott strode quickly on his long legs to retrieve O’Dell, careless of any fluids that might stain his uniform. Unceremoniously picking the petite pixie up, he brought her back to his med-station and handed the pilot a glass of water.

“Drink this…..slowly,” Carrott instructed, going to retrieve a hypo filled with stabilizers designed to help with post-battle fatigue.

Hands shaking, O’Dell took the glass with both hands to sip the water gratefully, taking small swallows and giving it a chance to be absorbed. While she was headstrong, stubborn and tried to be stoic, the 90-pound weakling was also not a difficult patient.

While he walked he said to the group, “This is more fatigue than exertion alone can account for. At least for the amount of time in the sim. It looks like there is a feedback loop in play from the readings I have. Meaning, O’Dell gets tired, so the Thunderchicken gets sluggish. The Thunderchicken gets sluggish, so O’Dell gets more tired. Something in the neural feedback that we need to look at, it creates a vicious cycle.”

His tone was concerned, and creases across the brow of the tall man spoke to the level of concern he had. Carrott hated seeing anyone suffer, it's why he became a nurse, and O'Dell had clearly been pushed beyond her limits.

"Yeah, I think we have more than enough data for today. Fiona, you did an amazing job. Now we need to find that feedback... Is the system just too much strain mentally, or is it the physical exertion?" Mona was worried about her diminutive test pilot and how hard she had pushed herself, but the way she saw it, the sooner she got the bugs worked out of this system, the better off things would be. She knew Fiona would keep pushing herself farther and farther - she was a pilot, after all, and one with something to prove. But at the point Briaar had intervened, Mona was about to as well. "Be sure to hydrate well, ok? And no alcohol."

“No alcohol!?!” the pipsqueak pilot squealed, then quailed a bit when she saw Carrott’s face. “Alreet, alreet, no alcohol… I dinna ken, mum. I don’t usually run around like that as mooch as I did today, but… it was like I couldnae catch me breath after a certain point, and it was… I’ve nivvir been s’wasted in me life, Chief.” The little leprechaun sat back and mopped the still-dripping mop of hair out of her face. “Might be what Mr. Carrot was sayin'… that was…. whew, it was soomethin, ma’am.”

Leaning in slightly, Ensign Gavarus was trying to keep her anxiety over O'Dell contained which made the towering Tellarite a bit more manic than usual. "Ensign Gonadie, I have all the data from the EVA suit and the biofeedback data from the neural connectors. If I can get Carrot's data, I can put together an algorithm to check for correlation points to prepare a report. But according to a very basic look over, it looks like we might need to create... essentially... a neural firewall. I think I can put together a basic proposal once I have all the data. Also, perhaps we can split the neural load by leaving some processes to manual controls. Say, firing controls, which would free up neural pathways to reduce the data feedback load and..."

Looking at the expressions around her, Gavarus cut herself off mid-sentence with an exasperated expression on her porcine face, "Uh... what? Am I? So, I'm rambling. Okay. I'm rambling, but it's all going in my notes. Okay, I'll stop talking now."

"No, please..." Mona stood and reached up, barely able to place one hand on the Tellarite's shoulder. "This is the very reason why I wanted you on this team. I asked for you to be the maintenance person to look after the Cyclones to see how you did and the data in your reports did not disappoint. You're a gifted engineer and just the assistant I need. You also care for others."

Taking a moment to check O’Dell’s vitals, Carrott said thoughtfully, “Free up neural pathways….maybe a neural stint built into the receptors…..or meditation techniques to establish a bioelectric pathway accustomed to the interface…..”

Then, as if realizing he was speaking aloud, “Um, sorry. Readings, um, yes. I’ll get those right over to you Ensign Gavarus.”

"Aye, I'm likin this, how this all works. I'm the lab rat and alla ye figure oot how ta fix it. That's dead brilliant it is. R&D, thee and me!" O'Dell grinned at the assembled team, all working together to solve the problems they'd encountered.

The brightly plumed Miradonian then leaned in closer, lowering her voice so that hopefully only Briaar could hear her. "As for Fiona, she reminds me of myself and isn't the idiot that the other pilots in the department are. She's also small enough to be able to fully utilize the system in the test phase and has a mental strength that I think rivals that of the Captain. I think you're right about the neural firewall, and the manual controls though."

Mona sighed and relaxed her arm, letting it drop. She then pulled up the full brain activity scans during the test, which showed double and sometimes triple normal activity. "The system is literally moving two bodies as it's set up right now and being used. She's literally using several times as much brain power as she's used to just to move the Thunderchicken around. From what I've heard, Carrott is quite good with grey matter, so with his help, we should be able to reduce that quite a bit... But as it is, this will be the last combat test for a while. At least until a few more kinks are worked out."

Blushing the same shade as his hair, Carrott said, "Thank you, ma'am. I will do my best. And next time should be easier in any event. Now that we know the issue, we don't need to test the limits quite as hard, right? Until we know how things are going?"

"Exactly. This stressful of a test was only necessary for a full calibration of the limits of... Well... Everything and everyone..." Mona then moved over to O'Dell and placed a hand on her shoulder next. "I'm sorry for pushing you so hard. Thank you for your hard work. I owe you a drink later when you're feeling up to it. Maybe some Romulan ale? I've got a few nice bottles."

“Ye dinna poosh me too hard, mum! I kin do et! I’m okay now, if we need another goo!” It was abundantly clear that the tiny test pilot was far from ready for another round, but she was already trying to scoot off the med station gurney and stand. It was readily apparent to everyone that O’Dell was terrified that if she didn’t measure up, she would be easily replaced with someone with more stamina. Already she struggled against Gonadie’s hand on her shoulder, which was having no trouble keeping her pinned to the gurney.

The Chief just kept her on the gurney and shook her head. "You've already done more than anyone else could have, Sledgehammer. Even me. When I tried it, I threw up less than three minutes in. You lasted just over ten minutes and are asking for more and I guarantee none of the other pilots on this ship could get that system to move, let alone come close to matching you. Let's at least wait until tomorrow, ok? Give us some time to weed through the data and see if we can make it any easier on you first." Mona left out the part that she had refined the system a bit between the version she tried and the one Fiona had worn today. She was trying to build the woman up and every bit of confidence helped. Besides, even if there were another pilot aboard that could hope to match her, they needed reliable test data and that meant sticking with the same pilot.

“Aye, ma’am,” the nervous navigator responded, relaxing a bit. Ensign Gonadie didn’t sound like she was looking for someone bigger and stronger and better suited, so she’d swallow her worries and trust in what her chief told her.

Leaning in slightly, Gavarus whispered to Gonadie in her trademark, remarkably loud whispering voice. "She hates that nickname. Stick with 'Leprechaun.'"

Then piping up loudly, with a broad smirk, Gavarus followed up, "Besides, I need a LITTLE damn time to FIX the Chicken. You kicked the thunder out of it!"

“Ah, she’s a simulated chicken, so easy fix, aye, ye lazy bones? But ye did get lots of stress readings, I’ll bet!” Just like that, the petite pilot was enthusiastic, reassured that she wasn’t fired for throwing up on her shoes and practically passing out.

“So, um, celebration dinner in 10-forward tonight? I hear Delacroix has something special cooked up…some kind of potato casserole or something? The wife was dying to eat some, and I know she’s like to meet you all,“ Carrott asked, casually blocking O’Dell from standing to leave by standing in front of her and peering into her eyes, tricorder whirring.

No need to tell her the tricorder wasn’t really doing all that much really, aside from forcing the miniature maniac to sit still for another moment or two.

“Well, Ah do loove a good potaayto, and I’d be happy to meet the misses. Once I’m cooled off I think I might be hungry enough to eat a horse!” As anyone who had seen the mini Mariposian eat, that was far and away the biggest exaggeration of the day, as she never finished a plate of food and seemed to exist primarily on small portions of dark beer and potato products if left to her own devices.

"Then what you need is one of my pork and potato egg wraps. I'll have to make one for you sometime." Mona then realized what she had just said and glanced up at the Tellarite standing over them. "Ah... Um... Maybe a different meat though... No pork... No chicken... How about beef? I can whip up a nice corned beef hash and use that?"

"Uh... actually. Anything without meat is good for me." Gavarus chimed in somewhat hesitantly. "I've got two stomachs and neither of them can really process meat. Well, not without the kind of distress nobody wants to follow me around afterwards."

Looking between the porcine engineer and the fowl flight systems designer, O’Dell gulped slightly and replied, “Ah, maybe it should joost be vegetarian, Chief? I’m startin ta feel a wee bit guilty about me food choices. Ye get a minotaur on this team and I’m g’win ta hafta go vegetarian!”

"Vegetarian it is then! I'll make green pepper and potato egg wraps for breakfast tomorrow for everyone. I just hope I have enough eggs left." Mona grinned as she looked around at her new crew.

This was going to work out better than she had hoped.

"You may tell your Captain, that I am not unsympathetic to her situation. That said, I will have... criteria that must be met I order to assist her in this tribunal of hers. And those criteria are to be discussed with her and her only. And discussed face to face, not with a hologram."

The recording of Jaeih Dox repeated, playing out on the PaDD in the hand of the Romulan woman's daughter, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox. The bargain, offered in response to Captain Enalia Telvan's need for Jaeih's assistance in her family's upcoming tribunal, had already been forwarded to the beleaguered Captain and the situation was now out of the young pilots hands.

Still, she found herself sitting in her quarters, off duty, with her uniform top pulled open and hanging while she was flumped on the couch nursing a glass of hot tea. The PaDD replaying the conversation of a few days ago now when Jaeih had called and the call was answered by Mnhei'sahe's bond-mate, Mona Gonadie. The awkward and tension filled conversation came to a conclusion only when the younger Dox arrived home to relay the Captain's need and ended with the somewhat decisive terms that had just played out.

Tossing the PADD on the small coffee table next to her, Mnhei'sahe took a sip of tea and stared out the window into the expanse of stars stretching into infinity. The U.S.S. Hera was the first place that the flight Chief could remember ever feeling like a home, and she quietly hoped that the Captain would decide that she didn't need Dox's mother so she might never have to see the woman again. Then she sighed, feeling guilty for the thought.

Which was when the door chime sounded, to interrupt her reverie.

Slightly startled as the chime pulled her from her introspection,Dox stood up and closed her uniform top as she walked across the room to open the door.

Standing outside the door to her quarters was Commander Rita Paris, in the anachronistic yet singularly distinctive gold minidress uniform of her native age, the three gold pips on her black V-necked collar and the raised version of her ancient Starfleet command delta the only nods to the modern day. The old-school officer was a living throwback to the classic age of the five-year missions, when Kirk and his Enterprise had explored the galaxy, changing the course of galactic history.

In the modern day, Captain Telvan had rescued her from the latest in a long series of transporter accidents that befell the woman with alarming regularity. In doing so, she had recognized the resourcefulness and dedication the woman possessed, and made her the First Officer of the Hera. Now she lent her old-time Starfleet principles and morals to a Starfleet Intelligence vessel, working to act not only to keep the starship running efficiently, but to act as the conscience of a vessel which could all too easily sink into the moral shadows, never to return.

Since coming aboard, the fulsome first officer had taken a particular interest in the shy junior grade lieutenant who had wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ranks and get by. Instead, Rita Paris had drawn the young woman out, supported her quest to find herself, and as Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox had become Chief Flight Control Officer Mnhei'sahe Dox, Paris had been there behind, beside and occasionally in her way when she felt it was needed.

As a mentor, she pushed Dox to believe in herself and seek more. As a friend, she supported the young woman through crisis personal and professional. And as a commander, she had stood in the way when she felt that Dox was going astray... something that happened often when it came to her duties as a Baroness in the Artan pirate family, a boon bestowed upon her by the Captain.

Today she stood in the doorway in uniform, which likely indicated this was an official visit, although if it were completely official she would have summoned the young lieutenant to her office, or to the bridge. Thus this implied that this was official, yet unofficial business, as illustrated by the expression on the face of the old woman who was, paradoxically, physically the same age as Mnhei'sahe herself. Hands clasped behind her back like a Vulcan, posture erect, stiff and military, it spoke volumes to the professional pilot before she said a word.

"Lieutenant Dox, may I come in? We've a matter to discuss, you and I."

Looking slightly concerned, Dox replied, "Come in, Commander."

Stepping into the room, Commander Paris looked around with some appreciation. The quarters looked like a home with the addition of one Mona Gonadie to the renegade Romulan's life, and the fact that it now looked like someone actually lived here always made her happier. Stepping in, Paris explained, "I'm afraid that I have some bad news, Miss Dox. Would you prefer to be standing or sitting for this?"

Sighing slightly, Dox's expression was one not of surprise but of inevitably. She tugged on her uniform top and folded her arms behind her back and nodded. "I can stand."

"In the upcoming Tribunal of the Captain's in which you will be participating, it seems she is calling in a number of markers and resources to employ in her efforts to free herself of the current political machinations of her family business. With that in mind, it seems that your mother is coming aboard. I thought it best you heard it from me first." Paris stood, calm on the surface, giving the young officer a chance to process this news in her own time and way, which explained why she was here, yet in an official capacity.

The conflicted young pilot closed her eyes for a moment as she thought on Paris' words. "Unfortunately, I was expecting this. One of the Baronesses is a Romulan woman named Sienae Nei'rrh. The one that's still on the fence that the Captain is hoping my mother can convince to vote on... to side with the Captain against her mother."

Bristling slightly as she stood in place, Dox's anxiety was rising in her stomach. "I relayed the Captain's request, but my mother insisted on discussing the matter with the Captain in person."

"Is... Is she on her way?" Dox asked, as the more official tone of her voice cracked ever so slightly from anxiety. Immediately, the young woman internally chastised herself for letting herself get emotional.

"She's here," Paris stated flatly. "Or rather, she's arriving in about ten minutes. So I wanted to give you the option to meet her in person with a few Security personnel. Or if you prefer I'll be happy to do it." There was an edge to the Commander's voice that Dox recognized.

When last they had parted, Paris had been there, and while she didn't know any of what had been said, Mnhei'sahe's reaction had been enough to tell her all she needed to know, and she'd shamed the elder Romulan for her choices, plain and simple. While many Romulans purported to be Rihannsu, creatures of honor, she knew the insult would sting, and she'd intended for it to. Seeing a mother and daughter who could come together and heal instead continue to fight because Jaeih lacked the capacity to be honest with her daughter made her angry, and Paris was not one to be less than honest in all things.

Thus her offer to meet with the elder Dox was more an offer to protect her friend, than her defending the starship from a security risk, as was the duty of the First Officer.

Standing in silence for a few long seconds, Dox thought hard on her Commander's offer before replying. "I ran as far as I could imagine from her. But this is my home, and I will not run from her here. I won't hide from this. Not here. Not anymore."

"Admirable choice," Paris replied. "Would you like to face this alone then? I'll be happy to accompany you, and Security will be there regardless, because I trust your mother as far as I can throw a Thunderchicken. But I can order them to maintain distance to give you some privacy. This one is your call, Lieutenant."

"Whatever deal she ends up making with the Captain, as of right now she's still in Starfleet custody, 'consultant' or not. I'd rather she know that from the beginning." Dox replied somewhat flatly. "But ... protocol aside... I would... appreciate your presence. Thank you."

"That being the case, Jablonski and S'Rina are waiting outside, V-Nus and Lu are at the shuttle bay. Let's go say greet our newest prisoner, shall we? I'm sure that'll improve relations between you two," Paris pointed out, as she turned on her heel to about-face.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied with a sad flatness to her voice. There was determination but also depression as she followed behind Rita Paris. She had known that this was coming, but was still unprepared deep down, though she knew there would never be an ideal way or place for her to face her mother again. Now was as good a time as any.

As they stepped out into the corridor, a nod from the Commander was enough to summon the Security detail to fall in behind the two senior officers. At one point Security on the USS Hera had gotten out of control, so the first officer had taken over the department, flushed and restaffed it, and rebuilt it from the ground up. Now it was staffed primarily by Amazons, large, physically striking and muscular women whose physical prowess was quite impressive. their loyalty and obedience as well as their understanding of their duties set them apart, and made them an exemplary fighting force.

Who were not without questions.

"Commander, this is prisoner escort duty?" asked the Klingon woman, the thickly muscular S'Rina.

"That is correct, petty officer," the Commander replied without looking back.

"Will be escorting the prisoner to the brig, Commander?" The inquisitive security officer pressed.

"We will not, Petty Officer Wil'I'Ams," Paris explained. "We will be escorting the prisoner to VIP guest quarters number 10, which has been specially prepared for them."

"If all of our prisoners are kept in the guest quarters, who do we even have a brig, Commander?" the perplexed and irritated Klingon warrior asked.

"So we have somewhere to keep insubordinates who don't follow orders, Petty Officer," the chief of security whose patience was known to be limited responded. "Do you have an opinion on that subject that you'd like to share?"

There was sullen silence in response to that question, and the curvaceous commander did not look back as she pressed on.

-----------

Sitting in the secure transfer unit of the transport Runabout, 'Clarion’, Jaeih Dox looked out the window as the stars streaked past at high warp. She didn't know the name of the Starship she was being transferred to, but she knew why she was going there.

Jaeih's daughter was Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox, the Chief Flight Officer of a top secret ship under the auspices of Starfleet Intelligence. It was a ship Captained by a woman the elder Romulan woman had known from her years as a smuggler, Enalia Telvan. Or Enalia Artan, princess of the Artan Pirate family, as Jaeih knew her. And this Starship Captain had need of Jaeih Dox.

So a deal had to be arranged and Jaeih Dox insisted that any such deals were to be discussed in person. As such, she now found herself warping through space to an unknown destination to speak with Enalia Telvan… and very likely her estranged daughter as well. An encounter she had been dreading, particularly moreso now since her disastrous holographic conversation with Mnhei'sahe's bond-mate, Mona Gonadie.

Once again, Jaeih had figured out the exact way to say and do everything wrong by her daughter's standards and didn't know how to rectify the situation.

Starfleet protocol meant that in spite of her sixteen years of service as a 'consultant’ to Starfleet Intelligence, she was still a prisoner due to her past as a smuggler. As such, she found herself buckled into her seat and secured there. On her wrist was a tight black band with a steady red light on it. The collar that ensured her cooperation and reminded her of her place.

Sitting across from her was a gold clad security officer who looked bored at his assignment as she largely ignored him.

As an engineer for the Romulan Star Empire, her expertise in Cloaking technology had made her extremely valuable to her captors. But now it was her relationship with Enalia Telvan's mother Arenara, the queen of the Artan Family, and the Baroness Sienae Nei'rrh of the Romulan Refugee Corps that gave her a new kind of value. As a smuggler, the Dox's ferried Nei'rrh and the Romulans that now fill the ranks of her crew from servitude on Romulus to freedom and the woman owed Jaeih a boon. A boon that would be extremely valuable in the upcoming tribunal between the mother and daughter at the head of the Artan family.

--------------

As she thought on all of this, the Runabout fell out of warp into normal space again. In the cockpit of the, the two pilots looked puzzlingly at their instruments as they brought the small ferry to a halt in the vast expanse of space.

“Confirming, these are the coordinates for rendezvous with the U.S.S. Hera, but I don't see her.” the pilot called over to the co-pilot. “Are you seeing anything, Myers?”

From the cockpit, the comm came to life. “U.S.S. Hera to Runabout Clarion. You are cleared for landing in Shuttlebay three. Coordinates being sent now.” As the voice came across their systems, the purple nacelles of the mighty nebula class Starship began to glow from the darkness as a pearlescent shimmer of shielded black hull plating repolarized to reveal the Hera in all her glory.

“Holy shh…” the stunned pilot exclaimed as his jaw hung open at the sight of the not-quite-cloaked starships appearance. “Uh… Runabout Clarion confirms. Coordinated received. Beginning landing approach in Shuttlebay three.”

As the runabout came about the eerie violet nacelles, there was a sliver of illumination that seemed to cut through the shadow of the inky pearlescence tinged by ultraviolet colorations at subtle intensities that lent the starship the appearance of a sea creature from the deep depths, swimming instead an ocean of stars. As they drew close, the sliver of light was revealed to be a shuttle bay, and within as the runabout approached, uniformed figures could be seen awaiting the Clarion's arrival.

Peering out the runabout's forward canopy, Jaeih could see her daughter, and the Human commander beside her she knew all too well, alongside Klingons and a few brutes, all in Security gold. Even before the hatch had been unsealed, the message was loud and clear- she was moving from one custody to the next.

As the on board security guard released her seat restraints, Jaeih steeled herself and stood up. As the hatch hissed open, the stern faced Romulan was lead down the short ramp of the Runabout as the guard handed a PaDD with his transfer orders to Commander Paris. All the while, Jaeih simply looked forward, avoiding eye contact with anyone while the perfunctory protocol was carried out.

After a tense moment of silence, the Runabout security guard turned around to reboard the craft as Jaeih finally turned to face her Rita Paris. "I suppose this makes you my newest jailer?"

"Scan her and frisk her, folks. Standard prisoner transfer procedure," the curvaceous commander ordered, ignoring the Romulan woman's pointed barb and in fact ignoring her entirely. Tapping her commbadge, Paris called out, "Captain Telvan, Mrs. Dox is onboard. Would you like to see her now or shall I escort her to the brig first?"

The two security officers exchanged glances, hearing a request that would run contradictory to their previously set parameters, but they said nothing. Which was good, because despite her disdain for it, Paris knew how to play at a bit of theater as well.

Over the comms came the captain's voice. "Telvan here. Please escort her to her new accommodations. As soon as I'm finished with these briefings I'll go to meet with Mrs. Dox in person."

"Aye Captain," Paris replied. With a nod, the Lu took the lead, and the Wil'I'Ams sisters both flanked the Romulan woman, even as Paris and Dox fell in behind them as Jablonski took up the rear guard.

As the group moved to the nearest turbolift, Jaeih spoke out behind her as she walked. "Was this how you wanted our reunion to go, Mnhei'sahe?"

After a moment of silence, the young Romulan lieutenant replied flatly. "No, it wasn't. But it is what it is and it didn't have to be this way, did it?"

The pointed reference to how poorly their time together on Earth shut the awkwardly interaction down as they continued to walk in silence.

For her part, Commander Paris kept her own counsel. She was bringing the Romulan woman to the brig in order to set low expectations and a sense that she was not here as an honored guest, but as a prisoner, in worse straits than she had been in on Earth at Starfleet Intel. The Captainb could choose to do her bargaining through a forcefield or dress Paris down for insulting an honored guest as she whisked the Romulan woman off to creature comforts and a deal to be struck. This gave the Captain options.

Internally she had to admit she also wasn't personally inclined to offer the woman courtesies and accommodations. If she'd been honest with her daughter and brought the truth to light, there could have been more trust and closeness built. But she had lied and broken what trust her daughter had extended to her once more, and Jaeih Dox had rest their counter to no communication at all, at least as far as Paris knew. Yet here they were, because the Captain needed the woman's help, for her to exert her influence in the Captain's struggle for freedom from her family.

Which also bothered Rita Paris, because she felt the Romulan intelligence asset would take advantage of any opportunity for slef-interest, and had no intention of returning to Starfleet custody. If anything, she expected betrayal out of the woman, and she'd be keeping an eye on her, amongst all the rest of the chaos she'd have to navigate in the upcoming tribunal. Fortunately, she did her best navigating while lost,m so there were high hopes to get the Captain and crew through this mess.

But one eye would always be on the Romulan bird of prey she was marching into a cell.

"Cell 7, open forcefield, general population," Paris called out as she made her way into the brig, passing through the forcefields and blast doors at their approach because she was expected. The two security officers at the front desk tapped in the commands and called back with an "Aye, Commander."

After having passed through the six checkpoints to access the main brig, a large circular chamber in the lower saucer section wherein a segment of the cells faced one another. There was one malingerer sleeping it off and the rest of the dozen cells were empty. The prisoner escort stepped to the cell numbered on the wall with a large '7' and the forcefield dropped, As Paris addressed one of the Klingon security officers.

"Ms. V'Nus, the cuffs shouldn't be necessary, she's a low flight risk. In you go, Mrs. Dox," Paris addressed the subject of stepping into her cell much the same as she would to invite Miss Dox to board a shuttle- polite, but directing.

"Quaint." The elder Romulan said as she stepped in to her accommodations. "I'm feeling more helpful already. Starfleet courtesy remains boundless, as ever."

Turning, she looked past her daughter to Rita Paris. "Sixteen years of indentured servitude for smuggling Kali-Fal and refugees. But the pirate princess is given a Starship and made its master. Do you ever wonder what crimes your benevolent Starfleet ignored for the favor of her family?"

Cracking a rueful smile, Paris replied evenly. "Like everything to me, it's history. What matters is the here and now, where we're writing history. How's your chapter coming along?" Paris paused to narrow her eyes a bit. "Forcefield on."

With that, the Security chief did a sharp military column left then marched out, the escort detail pivoting to departing behind her, leaving only Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox behind on the other side of the forcefield.

After a moment of extended silence, Jaeih turned and sat down on the bed against the back wall letting out a sigh. As she spoke again, it was in the native Rihan that was the first language of the two women. "You're chosen... Sister... certainly enjoys flexing her authority. That must be a joy to be around."

Replying evenly in Rihan, Mnhei'sahe spoke. "You've done your best to make yourself unwelcome here, Mother. You lied to me about almost everything I've asked since we began speaking again. When I was at my most desperate, begging you for the truth, you lied about everything. But I know better now than to bother asking for anything from you."

"Well, your Captain certainly plans to ask things of me. Thought this is hardly setting things off to a good start." Jaeih gestured to her surroundings.

"You'll do what you'll do regardless of this or you wouldn't have come. Whatever you have lied to me about, I believe you think it needed to be done to protect me. I believe that you did at least once believe in why we saved Rihannsu from tyranny. I believe that you sincerely worked for reunification. I believe that you will stand against the Orion Syndicate with Captain Telvan against her mother." Mnhei'sahe said as she stepped closer to the force field.

"For someone with no trust in me, you seem to have an inordinate amount of belief." Jaeih stood back up and stepped closer to her side of the force field.

"I trust you, mother. I trust you to be who you are. You believe you've been protecting me for my whole life, and if you're still willing to lie to me, I guess that means you still care."

"I have always loved you, Mnhei'sahe. I will always love you. And I will always act in what I believe to be your best interests." Jaeih replied with a pleading in her voice.

"I know, mother. I wanted to believe that you didn't. It was easier to try and hate you, but I don't want to hate you. I don't want to have regrets anymore." Mnhei'sahe paused and stepped slight back from the force field. "I love you, Mother. And I want to like you. But I won't ask you to be something you aren't for me, not anymore"

Moving slightly closer, the forcefield flared slightly against Jaeih's breath as she wanted to reach forward. "What... do you mean, Mnhei'sahe?"

Turning towards the security exit, Mnhei'sahe looked back over her shoulder towards her mother. "It means I won't ask you for the truth again, Mother. That way, you won't ever have to lie to me. I know who I am now. I know who I want to be, and that will be enough."

In the cell, Jaeih had no words in response as she stepped back from the forcefield.

After a long moment, Mnhei'sahe left the room, leaving Jaeih Dox feeling more alone than when she was on the other side of the Galaxy.

The captain had taken longer than expected with her briefings, but she was finally free and had arrived at the quarters set aside for their guest, Mrs. Jaeih Dox. When she got there though, the room was unguarded and there was no one inside. Setting the nearly one-hundred-year-old bottle of Praetor Select Romulan Ale on the coffee table, she tapped her comm badge.

"Computer, where is Jaeih Dox?"

The computer replied instantly. "Jaeih Dox is located in brig unit seven."

Enalia sat down in one of the green chairs and pursed her lips. "Captain Telvan to Commander Paris. Could you please escort Mrs. Jaeih Dox to her new quarters? I'm finally able to receive her."

"Right away, Captain," Paris responded promptly. Handing the chair over to Lieutenant Thorpe, she signaled to the Brig to prepare the prisoner for transport, and she made her way down in her usual brisk military pace. Within a minute, she was standing before the Romulus reunification fighter turned Starfleet intelligence asset who was here to strike a deal with the Captain. The Romulan stealth technology expert who had now spent sixteen years in Starfleet custody for a smuggling offense. Who had dealings with the Captain's mother, and the Artan family of old. Whose history would now play a political role in the battle between mother and daughter that was building in the future like a stormcloud, moving ever closer.

There was no Security escort this time. Just one Rita Paris, throwback to the last century.

"Mrs. Dox, if you'll come with me, please," Paris said evenly.

Standing up from the platform she had been sitting on against the wall, Jaeih Dox straightened the gray Starfleet tunic she wore as a consultant for Starfleet Intelligence..it was the same cut as the uniform worn by the Hera's Intel Chief, Lieutenant Sam Clemens, but bereft of a rank marking or Starfleet badge. The black wristband still affixed tight to her wrist.

Responding with a simple nod, the Romulan engineer followed behind, not saying a word. She knew the game that was being played here and after her talk with her daughter not long ago, had no heart for trying to antagonize the ships Commander whom she knew held nothing but contempt for her.

"We can do the silent treatment if you like. I'm not the one you're here to have a conversation with, Mrs. Dox," Paris observed as they made their way through the brig checkpoints. Time to break the ice.

"My... silence is simply my desire to no longer... exasperate an already tense situation, Commander." The elder Dox replied with a hint of exhaustion in her voice.

"You're operating under the assumption that I hold a grudge, Mrs. Dox. I had my say, I walked away. You've not done anything to exacerbate the situation with your daughter, which was my primary point of concern." Passing through the checkpoints, Paris ambled toward the turbolift. "You're here to parley with the captain, and I'm here to facilitate it. I believe you may misunderstand my motive, Mrs. Dox. I'm not tense, nor is the situation, to me. That's all you."

"Very well, then." Jaeih replied flatly, not believing Rita's insistence that the tension between the two was purely one-sided but not wanting to press the issue further. "So, is it to your Captain that we go now?"

"It is indeed. I doubt you'd follow military protocol, but I'd advise you not to call her 'sir'. She's not fond of it," Paris pressed the button to summon the turbolift and offered a perfunctory smile. This would play out as it would play out, she supposed, so, for now, she just took the ride.

"I had no intention, but thank you. It's been many years since I last saw her, so it should at the least be an interesting meeting one way or another." Jaeih replied from Paris's side in the turbolift.

As the lift reached its destination, the two women stood in silence. On Deck 8, Paris led the Romulan woman to her destination, whereupon the door to the VIP suite opened, and Paris led the Romulan woman inside.

"Jaeih Dox, may I present Captain Enalia Telvan. Captain, Mrs. Dox." Paris stood by to see if she was expected to stay or be dismissed.

Standing, Enalia assessed her guest as she offered a handshake and motioned for Rita to stay. She might need her First Officer's perspective. "It's a pleasure seeing you again after all these years, Jaeih. Sorry for the mix-up. These are the quarters you're supposed to be in during your stay while aboard. I thought you might enjoy a bottle of the finest that you yourself smuggled across the neutral zone so I brought a housewarming gift."

Returning the handshake, Jaeih simply said: "Thank you, Captain." In a measured and practiced tone. The tone she had learned to use in placating her Starfleet jailers for over sixteen years for the crime of smuggling the beverage she was now being offered as a gift. The painful irony of that was not listed on the elder Dox.

Nor did the casual mention of the 'mix up' that had left her sitting in the Hera's brig since her arrival escape her. A power play and a reminder on her place she knew better than to forget as the discussion was to advance.

'A clever tactic worthy of a Romulan', she thought to herself as she took the offered glass and took a sip. "Excellent vintage. Thank you."

As she spoke, Jaeih walked slightly around, taking in the spacious VIP quarters and thinking carefully on her next words. The princess of the Artan Family clearly had a need of her here but could just as easily make her disappear if Jaeih played her hand incorrectly.

Deciding instead on tact and civility in the immediate moment, Jaeih chose to err on the side of caution. "The pleasure is mine, Captain. It has been... nearly twenty years now, I believe. We were both... very different women. Yourself perhaps even more so. I would not wish to be presumptuous, but would I be correct in assuming that being 'Enalia Telvan' means you have been joined?"

"That is a correct assumption, yes. Thanks to my mother's meddling, of course. I think it turned out for the better, in the end, though. I was only confident in what I knew before. I was disciplined and trained to stay under her control. After the joining, I was able to not only run from her but defy her as well. If that makes any sense." Enalia chuckled softly as she explained. "If I hadn't been joined, I suppose I would have rolled over and acquiesced to her demands to either take over the family or provide an heir years ago."

"Then I am glad it has worked for you for the better." Jaeih replied, taking another sip as she returned to a stationary position standing before the two officers.

"And you know that my family's credo is one about freedom." The spotted and curvaceous captain eyed the Romulan woman meaningfully at that point.

"I know that all too well. That credo was an important factor in my choice to work with your Mother and the family as a smuggler. I had no desire to help free my people from one form of servitude or bondage on Romulus to be replaced with another." The elder Romulan woman replied. "It's why I agreed to even entertain this discussion today. When Mnhei'sahe said that you have reason to believe that your mother is in league with the Orion Syndicate, it was not a pleasant revelation."

"No, it isn't," Enalia replied, taking a seat in one of the armchairs in the room, saving the nicest one for Jaeih. "It may all be coincidence, but in my experience that many coincidences don't just happen. With the Syndicate getting our security codes for our more lucrative mining colony run by one of our most critical swing votes that could sway a couple of the other baronesses... Then as soon as they leave, she shows up to lend aid... On top of that, knowing when and how to strike so as to not hit any of our neighbor's assets..."

"A lot of good Romulans were lost that day. Not technically Artan pirates, but they were refugees you rescued and that were under our protection. Baroness Sienae Nei'rrh, leader of the Romulan Refugee Corps, covers them. She lost several ships and crew that day too. She's about to throw her lot in with my mother because of her aid."

"But I'm sure your daughter briefed you on all that already," Enalia added with a tired grin. It was clear that the politics of this Tribunal were taking it out of her.

"Yes, she gave me the basic information and expressed your need. Sienae Nei'rrh pledged herself to me as a blood sister and owes me a debt." Jaeih replied. "And as she is an undecided vote in this tribunal, it is your hope that I might be able to convince her to side with you."

Then there was a silence for a moment as Jaeih considered her next words. She had things she wanted but knew that strong-arming Enalia Telvan would not end well for her and would be a disaster for her relationship with Mnhei'sahe.

"Know that I will assist you in this." Jaeih said simply. "But there are... things that I need from you. Promises that you may not be able to guarantee, but that I must ask for."

"I am able to offer some compensations, but others may, of course, be more difficult. Please... What do you have in mind?" Enalia motioned her guest to proceed. Now began the negotiation phase of the deal and she only hoped that they could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. Glancing to Rita, she nodded. This was what she needed her First Officer here for.

"I know better than to ask for my freedom. I am still important to Starfleet as a 'consultant' and I doubt that even you could talk that into happening." Jaeih replied, thinking on the subject strongly.

Pacing slightly as she talked, a body language both officers recognized from her daughter, Jaeih's tone shifted to a more somber one. "When I was a smuggler, I had anonymity. A fake marriage of convenience gave my daughter and I the last name of 'Dox', and the belief that I was dead kept me off of radars I was desperate to avoid. Lying to Mnhei'sahe about her father hid her well enough. The... surgeries and modifications hid her parentage. When I was incarcerated, I agreed to share my knowledge with Starfleet to protect her from carrying a criminal record. She was still hidden and I was protected and it sufficed."

"But now, she knows the truth. She knows the name of her father and her DNA has been restored." Jaeih turned back to Enalia with a serious look on her face. "And her service to you here has, for both good and ill, put her on a grander stage that she does not yet understand the dangers of yet. Nor, perhaps, do you."

"When I fled from the empire, I was able to escape when the Borg destroyed the outpost I was... stationed to. I survived but was believed dead. However, there was one man that refused to accept that and found me. Tracked me down. Dralath tr'Rul. Mnhei'sahe's father. He was an investigator for the Tal'Shiar and for a time, we were very much in love. A love that resulted in Mnhei'sahe. But he had his duties and obligations and he could only hide my continued existence for so long." Jaeih hung her head for a long moment before continuing.

"We had been lovers for a number of years, and it was a relationship that was discovered by his superior that lead to my being stationed on the edge of the neutral zone. His direct supervisor was a woman named Verelan t'Rul. Dralath's mother and, at the time, the director of the Tal'Shiar. The last I had heard, she had become an extremely high ranking senator in the ruling government, Captain. She is ruthless, she will not hesitate to kill to get what she wants, and she is extremely possessive of her family."

"If she learned that she had a granddaughter, our fear was that she would stop at nothing to possess her. Everything I have done I have done to protect my daughter, Captain. And there is nothing I will not do to ensure that she remains protected from that woman." Jaeih was now standing directly in front of Captain Telvan now, her arms folded behind her back.

"You arranged this transfer, and you can very likely keep my service to Starfleet under your aegis on this ship where I can... see her. My consultancy is with Starfleet Intelligence and this is an intelligence ship where my skills can be of exceptional use. But beyond that, I require your word that while she serves under you, you will do whatever is in your power as both a Starfleet Captain and... hopefully with my assistance... as the unchallenged head of the Artan family, to ensure that Verelan tr'Rul never gets her hands on Mnhei'sahe."

Enalia nodded, contemplating what she had just been told. "Then you should know that Riov Dalia Rendal is a Tal'Shiar agent that we consider to be on the payroll of Senator t'Rul. We recently had an incident with her involving the destruction of a joint research base and during her transfer to more secure facilities, she was found to be missing. You have every oath I can make that I will do everything within my power that I will protect not only my Flight Control Chief, but every member of my crew."

"As for your transfer to this ship, I had a feeling you would ask for that and already put in a request. It's been approved and you'll be serving aboard this vessel until such time as you are no longer useful to the overarching mission of the USS Hera. Command will still expect you to file reports remotely, of course... But..." The spotted woman eyed the Romulan meaningfully. "As long as you behave yourself and remain honest and honorable... There's no reason we can't allow you some measure of freedoms."

"You're probably right about early release from your sentence. I've been able to talk Intel Command into giving you bigger and better cages, but they're pretty quick to strike down any chance of you getting out of the rest of your life sentence, even if it's just probation."

"I'm serving a life sentence for smuggling. I have never had any illusions that my sentence was anything other than political in nature. I am a former Romulan Engineer with extremely valuable intelligence. Had I been picked up for loitering, I doubt my sentence would have been much lighter." Jaeih replied, arching an eyebrow as she spoke. "So I wouldn't have bothered asking for the impossible. And frankly, freedom would simply force me back into hiding and would make it impossible to see my daughter or know she was protected."

"Otherwise, you have my services, Captain. Both on this ship and in your upcoming trials. I appreciate the efforts you have made on my behalf and in regards to my daughter. And I... hope to at least try and repair some of the damage I have done, but knowing that you have her best interests at heart is comforting and I am grateful that she seems to have found a place where she has what I could never give her." She then turned specifically to Rita, "Thank you both."

"Thank you, Mrs. Dox. I look forward to working with you." Standing back up, Enalia smiled at Commander Paris. "It seems we have another set of VIP quarters to be guarded now. Please afford her the same hospitality as our other guests."

"Of course, Captain," the first officer replied smoothly, before turning on the Romulan guest of the USS Hera, who'd be sleeping next door to Death herself. "You'll need this as well," Paris handed over a communicator badge that was not in the shape of the Starfleet 'twin tower' delta, abut the spread wings of Al'thindor of the Romulan Star Empire.

"This will allow you limited access to the ship's computer as well as the doorways and replicators. Should you wish to go somewhere, please inform your honor guard outside and once cleared they will take you where you wish to go, and stand by until you are prepared to depart. You have access to a number of fresh foods as well as replicated, and goods can be sought if needed for specific purposes." The first officer had smiled throughout the presentation, and continued smiling now- not a perfunctory plastic smile of one obligated to do so, but that of someone who was being genuinely pleasant.

"With all of that said, is there anything that I can get you to make your stay more comfortable, Mrs. Dox?"

Giving the question... and the moment... a significant amount of thought, Jaeih Dox looked down at the badge in her hand. "No, Commander. I believe I currently have all I could need... "

What she wanted was another chance to talk with her daughter. Another chance to somehow set right the litany of mistakes that set her on the path she was on, but she knew that pushing herself any further into her daughter's life would only end in disaster. But she was there. And if Mnhei'sahe wanted to talk, then it would happen on her own terms. So instead she simply straightened back up and nodded. "Thank you again."

"If you'll excuse me," Captain Telvan nodded to both of them and headed for the door. "I need to visit the pod. There's someone else waiting for me now."

As the captain departed, Paris eyed the Romulan asset. "There aren't that many second chances in this life, Mrs. Dox. I wish you good luck with yours, and let me know if I can help." With that said, she nodded curtly, and the anachronistic astronaut departed, leaving the former smuggler alone with her thoughts.

Jaeih smiled slightly as she thought on Paris's words. "Fifth chance by my count, Commander." She whispered to the empty room.

-=Detours Mission Planning=-

Not in any particular order...

- Security Training - Rita, Dox, Az'Prel, Security Team including the Wil'I'Ams sisters
- Pirate Training Holodeck Adventure - Rita, Thex, Dox, Mona, Az'Prel, Asa, Baroness
- Captain Hosts a Dance Party for Thex's New Suitors - ALL - Set it up like the wake with pairings
- Jaieh's Transfer to the USS Hera - Jaieh, Dox, Rita, Enalia, Wil'I'Ams sisters
- Below Decks Mischief
- Start of R&D department - Enalia, Rita, Dox, Mona
- R&D Plots - Mona, Leprechaun, Leviathan, Carrot, Ila
- Finish building Ila's new body - Sam, Mona, Lucky, Sonak




----------
OOC Az: Anything need adding?

Sticking half out of an open access panel in the deck of the small J-type freighter known as the Khallianen, it's owner and, by default, Captain, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox, was busy trying to reassemble a fused power junction.

Since receiving the compact pirate ship from Captain Magnus of the Artan Pirate Family as a part of her inclusion to their ranks as a Baroness, Dox had found herself spending a lot of her free time on the little ship tinkering with it. He bond-mate, Ensign Mona Gonadie, was busy with her new R&D department and Dox wasn't exactly the socializing type, so hanging out in Ten-Forward wasn't for her.

Instead, she found herself in Shuttlebay two, futzing around with the systems of her new ship that had become something of a hideaway for her.

Pulling herself out, she muttered a curse in her native Rihan, “Imirrhlhhse!” The stout, red-headed Romulan woman had a tendency to mutter to herself in her first tongue when she was alone and especially when she was irritated, and tonight she was very much both.

It had been a few weeks now since the mind meld with both much of the Hera's command crew allowed the troubled pilot to psychically communicate with the Titan Gaia, but in that time it felt as if her life had changed completely. While it's true that her burgeoning psychic abilities were now all but gone as a result of Gaia having been in her mind, it was more in how the crew had changed towards her.

Before the mind meld, Asa Dael and Mnhei'sahe we're extremely close friends. But it seemed that since joining minds, the two had barely spoke and Dox couldn't help but fear that her El-Aurian friend saw too much in the anxiety-riddled mind of the conflicted pilot and pulled away.

Even her empathic bond with Mona had become weak. And while the two were recovering it, that loss only served to amplify Dox's feelings of isolation and loneliness.

So she retreated to where those thoughts, ironically, were amplified. The pirate ship that was the physical representation of the internal conflict between her life in Starfleet and the life of a smuggler she once ran from but that kept calling her back. And, while the ownership of the Khallianen was now shared with Mona as her bond-mate, the Miradonian pilot and inventor had yet to set foot on the ship.

Now that Dox was thinking about it, the only other person that had been on this ship as a visitor was the Baroness Schwein von Alcott with a bottle of Kali-Fa to celebrate Dox’s appointment with the Artan Family. Asa had been here momentarily when Dox used the ship to rescue her friend from mercenaries months ago, but that was it.

Mona hadn’t been there. Asa never came to see it under normal circumstances. And Rita Paris had most certainly not come. Rita was virtually the living embodiment of Starfleet and she made no attempts at hiding her disdain for anything to do with the Artan Family business of her disappointment that Dox had chosen to become involved in the Captain's family drama. It was a disappointment that cut deep for the pilot that looked up to Paris as both a friend and a role model.

As such, Dox had removed from her quarters any of the artifacts connected to her station as an Artan Baroness. Her I.D., the Repulsor she had purchased with the Captain at a pirate auction so many months ago, when her ears were still rounded, her blood brown and her name 'Melanie', her uniform as a Baroness, even the twin Caitian blades that Schwein had gifted her. They were all kept in her small cabin on the Khallianen where there was no chance of Rita seeing during a casual visit to her quarters.

Still, it was a fact that stuck in Dox’s mind. When she was made a Baroness by the Captain, she was extremely proud. But it was a pride she now felt ashamed of as a Starfleet officer. She wanted to figure out a way to be both without betraying one for the other, but ultimately she was afraid that where she sat now was her fate. The android Kodria… her niece from the future… had all but confirmed this by letting it slip that in her time, Dox was a pirate Captain. The young Romulan didn’t pry for more information, but it has stuck in the back of her mind ever since and weighed on her heavily.

Getting up off the deck, Dox closed the panel on the repaired conduit and wiped the grease from her hands with a rag on the chair behind her. She was wearing black cargo pants and a green tank top with black work boots and her curly red hair that was growing back out in a ponytail as she walked to the back of the small craft to the cargo hold. Passing the small replicator, she ordered up a black Romulan Coffee and sat down in front of the few small crates that had come with the ship.

Behind them in the hold, strapped down, was her gunmetal gray hoverbike that she had recovered from storage on Earth during the Hera’s shore leave that she enjoyed tinkering with as well. A rare positive memento of her few years on Earth.

But it was the crates her attention was focused on tonight. Gifts from the other Baronesses, welcoming her to the Artan family. Crates she had yet to open in the months she’d owned the small ship. But here she sat, afraid that this life was her fate. Terrified that her commitment to Starfleet was doomed to failure. Feeling lonely and disconnected to the life she once she belonged in but was now questioning, she opened the first crate to examine its contents.

A crate of Praetor’s Select Kali-Fa. A 16 year old vintage, making it the last year that she was actively smuggling the former contraband. A thoughtful gesture that she sighed at. Since bonding with Mona, the young Romulan had been actively trying to quit drinking. It was a habit that fueled her self-doubt and self-destructive behavior patterns and it was one she was struggling with rather hard of late. This crate would likely be gifted to Schwein or the Captain VERY quickly.

Pushing the Kali-Fa to the side, she pulled over the next crate and took the lid off. Inside was a series of smaller boxes. Some simple wood, others more elaborate, not unlike jewelry boxes. Dox picked up a small, ornate red box wrapped in velvet and trimmed with gold filigree. Inside was a beautiful necklace. Swirls of platinum framing a brilliant green stone. Dox recognized the piece as a Romulan ceremonial pendant, used in years past in bonding ceremonies. Holding it up to the light, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been stolen before she saw a name on the inside of the lid. The small gold plaque read: “Verelan t’Rul’. It was the name of her paternal Grandmother. The former director of the Tal’Shiar and current Romulan Senator that Dox has only recently learned about.

The grandmother, who according to Dox’s mother, would stop at nothing to possess Mnhei’sahe if she learned of her existence.

Holding the heirloom in her hands, she sighed for a long moment as she thought of her Mother. He mother, Jaeih Dox, who now resided aboard the very same Starship that Dox thought of as her home. She had spoken to her just a few hours earlier in the ship's brig and by now, the elder Romulan was likely trying to make some kind of deal with the Captain in exchange for her help with the Captain's tribunal.

Putting the neckless away, Mnhei’sahe opened the next box. In it, a framed picture. It was a picture of her Mother and her when she couldn't have been any older than twelve. A short, pudgy red-head with her hair awkwardly straightened in a standard Romulan bowl-cut with a scowl on her face. Her ears still rounded off from surgery she received as a child that had only recently been discovered and repaired. Standing beside her and her mother, clearly, on the smuggling ship she grew up on, the Forager, was another woman. The former Romulan refugee that was now a Baroness, Sienae Nei’rrh of the Romulan Refugee Corps.

The Captain's family drama had forced Mnhei’sahe to reconnect with the childhood she had run away to Starfleet to try and forget. She knew that the Captain meant well, but was terrified that she would soon have no choice but to embrace that life if the Captain’s upcoming tribunal against her own mother went bad. It had already put Mnhei’sahe in the position of having to choose between the Artan Pirate family and Starfleet. And now it had put her own mother on the same starship, forcing a relationship she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore.

Ignoring the rest of the crates, she tossed the contents back in and slid them back into the cargo hold. All the while, her eyes were on that crate with the Kali-Fal in it. The pale blue liquor practically called to her, but she ignored it as she took an almost angry sip of her coffee.

In the short time that Jaeih Dox had been on board, the two women had only spoken briefly but it was something the younger Dox knew she was going to have to deal with. She had told Rita that she had no intention of hiding in her own home from her mother, but there she was. Sitting on the deck of the Khallianen. Very much hiding.

Hiding from her mother.

Hiding from Rita and Asa. People she thought of like family that were feeling more and more like strangers with each passing day.

Hiding from Mona, terrified that their bond might never be fully restored.

But mostly hiding from herself. Hiding from her fears and self-doubt that were making her feel alone again. Unwanted again. Lost again.

Once outside VIP Quarters, Paris inspected the two Security officers already on duty, nodding in approval at Zelinski and Brando. Both stood at parade rest, their uniforms spotless, their military deportment evident, and both sharp-eyed and ready for trouble. She noted both were carrying versions of her old Type 2 phaser, whicvh gave the old-school officer something of a chuckle. Tapping her comm badge as she moved, the first officer spoke to the air. "Paris to Dox... Mrs. Dox is now installed on Deck 8, VIP quarters number 15. She has an honor guard and can be visited for further details."

From her quarters, the young Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox sat on her couch as she leaned against the breast of her bond mate, Mona Gonadie. Her eyes were swollen and green around the edges from crying. She tapped her comm badge and replied, "Aye Commander. T... thank you."

Putting her hand in Mona's, she squeezed tight. "What do I do now, Jhu Dhael?"

Mona sighed heavily as she stroked her love's hair. "We'll undoubtedly end up working with her in some way so as much as neither of us likes her... It's probably best that we at least visit her in an official capacity. Perhaps invite that pirate lady along too, since she's involved in this Tribunal as well."

"Yeah..." Dox muttered. "Undoubtedly. I just need to learn how to talk to her without all this baggage. I just don't know how I'm going do that."

"It would be easier if I just hated her. I hate myself for wishing I could not care at all. But I just don't know how to let go of the idea that she can be different from what she's always been." Dox continued, shutting her eyes and trying to focus on Mona's heartbeat to help her calm down.

"Hating people is not the natural state of the universe. You care because she played such a large role in your younger years. As for hating yourself, you should never do that. Her failings and lies are no reason to hate yourself. They just are and you should take them for what they are. Attempts to wrap the truth in a comforting blanket of protection around something she fears, just like other Romulans I've met." Mona stroked her Minay's hair as she spoke, trying to soothe and calm her. "And I've seen it in other races too, unfortunately. Romulans that have dealt with the Tal'Shiar have just been the best at it."

"I guess I really do need to learn how to let go of my expectations and accept what she is." Mnhei'sahe sighed, feeling defeated. "But you're right. She's here, now. And one way or another we're at the very least going to be working with her if not anything else. So I'm going to need to figure out how accept that sooner rather than later. Hmm. probably the both of us will be working with her at one point or another."

Sitting back up next to Mona, Dox sank back slightly as a cloud came over her. "I'm sorry. You... shouldn't have to deal with her at all."

"Well, if you deal with her, I deal with her, because I support you in whatever way I can." Mona leaned in and kissed her love on the nose softly. "Because I love you so much, ok? You're not in this alone."

Responding with a slightly melancholy smile, Mnhei'sahe didn't know how to reply at first. Between the lingering effects of the mindmeld with the senior crew and the Titan Gaia that left her mind closed once again and the preparation for the Captain's upcoming tribunal, the red-headed Romulan felt increasingly alone. Her empathic bond with Mona was getting steadily stronger, but was still so much weaker than what it once was and her dealings with the Artan pirate family seemed to be creating a wedge between herself and Rita Paris. These factors had all left her feeling strangely isolated.

But she tried to put her own insecurities aside and simply trust in what she knew was real. And that was her love for Mona. So she smiled just a bit broader as she replied, "Thank you, Jhu Dhael. I love you too. But... let's deal with this... tomorrow. Okay? I don't want to think about it anymore tonight. I just want this."

As she spoke, her words tinged ever so slightly with the lifetime of depression she struggled with, Mnhei'sahe tucked herself back up against Mona's warm body.

"Ok, Minay. But just you wait until I get the chance to introduce you to my foster family. Those are some crazy birds..." With that thought, the brightly plumed Miradonian pulled her Romulan lover deep into her bosom and snuggled tenderly, thrumming deep into the night.

------------

Before too long, the morning Mnhei'sahe was dreading had come. After a night of fitful sleep, the young Romulan woman was standing in front of the mirror in the bedroom she and Mona shared, adjusting her uniform for the day. The two had time before their duty shifts would begin and it was time Dox had decided needed to be spent trying to talk to her estranged mother.

Yawning with a bit of a squawk, Mona walked up behind her and draped her arms over her shoulders, still a bit bleary eyed. "It's too early. The tea hasn't even been brewed yet." Tea was about the only thing Mona drank other than the rare fruit juice and hot tea was her drink of choice in the mornings. "You look as beautiful as the moon goddess, Minay. What say we grab something to eat and be on our way? After all, the longer we put this off, the worse you'll feel."

Leaning back slightly, Mnhei'sahe tilted her head against Mona's and closed her eyes long enough to connect to Mona's energy for just a moment. Even through their reduced connection, it was strong and soothing. "Sounds good. I can get breakfast together while you're getting ready. How's cheese omlettes sound?"

"That sounds divine," Mona replied, savoring the feel of her lover's energies. "Extra pepper sauce on mine please."

While Mnhei'sahe was a terrible cook as a general rule, she had been practicing with egg dishes and was getting moderately competent with omlettes as Mona had a preference for fresh made food over the replicator to the point of moving her kitchenette into their quarters when she moved in. So while Mona was showering, Mnhei'sahe quickly prepared breakfast getting it cooked and set up to eat in just a few minutes.

Taking the time to enjoy their meal together, the two talked a bit more about Mnhei'sahe's concerns before finishing up and finally heading down the corridor to the guarded VIP quarters that were now the home of Mnhei'sahe's Mother, Jaeih Dox.

Nodding to the two towering officers on duty, Dox spoke to the computer to unseal the door."Computer, unseal hatch of VIP quarters number 15. Authorization Dox, M. Lieutenant. Access code 795-X9E."

With a chirp, the computer replied with a security question farmed from her personnel file. =^=What year did you graduate Starfleet Academy?=^=

Thinking for a second, Mnhei'sahe replied, "Class of 2389". Then she turned to Mona to enter her information.

Mona sighed heavily, knowing the computer had limited data to go on for her personal data to ask about and what was in there was really unpleasant. "Authorization Gonadie, M. Ensign. Access code ????9."

With a chirp, the computer replied with a security question farmed from her personnel file. =^=What is the name of your foster home?=^=

Mona groaned inwardly and wanted to bang her head against the door. Of course this would come up. "Minay Moon Goddess Home for Wayward Youths."

Holding Mona's hand tight, Dox smiled and blushed slightly. The reminder that the name Mona chose to call her was also that of a Miradonian goddess was somewhat intimidating for the self-esteem challenged Romulan. But after a light chirp the doors wooshed open and they entered together.

Inside, Jaeih Dox was sitting at the small coffee table nursing a cup and reading over a PaDD of her new duties aboard the Hera. She was wearing her gray Starfleet Intelligence tunic and where a Starfleet comm badge would be was a badge in the shape of the great Romulan bird, Al'thindor with the forms of Romulus and Remus in it's claws. The symbol of the Star Empire she had once served and now wore as a reminder of her place.

As the pair entered, she stood up with a start, somewhat surprised and failing to conceal the slightest of smiles at the sight of her daughter. "Mnhei'sahe... Miss Gonadie. Jolan Tru. "

She offered the traditional Romulan greeting with a slightly awkward expression as Mnhei'sahe returned it. "Jolan Tru, Mother."

"Jolan Tru, Mrs. Dox. Sorry for disturbing you like this so early. Are you settling in well?" Mona decided to remain pleasant and started off with pleasantries to get them off on the right foot. She still didn't really like the woman, but she could at least understand why she did the things she did.

"Not at all. I welcome the visit, thank you." For her part,.Jaeih was committed to trying to make a better effort this time to not screw up again with either her daughter or the women she knew now as her daughter-in-law.

"The accommodations are more than I would have expected. In speaking with Commander Paris and Captain Ar... Telvan... pardon me... last night, I have been ensured I can leave as I please though the guards will accompany me, which is more than generous." Jaeih stumbled slightly on the Captain's name, having known her as Enalia Artan for years but quickly corrected herself.

"We were able to come to an accord easily and I assured her that she would have my support in her efforts." The elder Dox continued, still standing and realizing how tense the room was for it.

"Would you... care to sit?" She asked. Mnhei'sahe was unaccustomed to seeing her mother acting almost sheepish, but didn't challenge it

"Thank you, mother." Mnhei'sahe replied, motioning Mona to the couch where the two sat next to each other. "If I may ask, what accord was it that you reached?"

There was a moment of silence as Jaeih sat down across from the couple. "Nothing elaborate. She has secured my transfer to carry out an indeterminate portion of my sentence under her aegis here on the Hera. And the only other thing I asked for...."

The elder Romulan paused, collecting her thoughts. "I asked for her... assurance that she would continue to... protect you."

"If it's protection from Tal Shiar plans, The Captain can do that. I've helped her foil several of their plots before." Mona was humble but firm in her assertions as this crew had done that and more in her time aboard. She'd piloted this ship herself in those missions.

Pausing again, Jaeih was visibly nervous as she sat. She looked around the room for a moment, looking anywhere but at the two women sitting across from her. Standing up, she walked back over to the small tabled and picked up a second PaDD and sat back down. "Captain Telvan did assure me she would do everything in her power, of course. But she doesn't quite understand everything. When I spoke with her I explained much, but not everything."

Holding up the PaDD, she placed it on the small coffee table between them. "So I wrote out... everything. I've sent this to Captain Telvan and Commander Paris already... but you need to hear it from me, Mnhei'sahe."

The younger Romulan woman, whose hand was already in Mona's, squeezed a little tighter.

"You already know your father was a member of the Tal'Shiar. What you don't know... what I... couldn't admit to you... was that I was as well. Dralath tr'Rul was an investigator and I... I was an enforcer. We served under the command of the director of the Tal'Shiar, a woman named Verelan t'Rul. Now Senator t'Rul. She is... Dralath's mother and your grandmother. She rose to power by developing and perfecting a specialized form of... interrogation technology. A device that could... rewrite minds. Erase them. Probe them for information. It was a brutal device and it was my job to use it on those disloyal to the empire." Jaeih was not visibly distraught, staring at the PaDD as she spoke.

Sitting across from her, Mnhei'sahe's pulse was racing and her cheeks were flushed green as she listened, struggling to not say anything until her Mother had said her peace.

"She... consented somewhat reluctantly when your father and I began to see each other... romantically. But... that changed one day when... I was sent to a small colony moon. The Cololnists were Romulans that had begun to... embrace the ways of our Vulcan ancestors. They had reached out to Vulcan for assistance and when... we... intercepted the transmissions, I and a team of enforcers were sent in. We had two options. We could wipe out the colony... or we could... change their minds. I was sent with Verelan's Neural Extraction Converter. An antiseptic name for a horrible thing." Finally, she looked up to meet her daughters eyes. Mnhei'sahe's were cold and angry, but Jaeih's were weak and wet.

"I went there. I went there to rewrite the minds of an entire colony of Rihannsu who only wanted a better life. They were no threat to the Empire... and... I failed at my task. I disobeyed my orders and... I killed my mission commander to allow the colonists to flee on our own ship. But... it didn't work. Verelan triggered a self destruct, killing the colonists." At which point, the elder Romulan stood up and stepped away from the seat, turning her back to the two women. She had not said the words she was saying now out loud to another living soul in the thirty-one years that Mnhei'sahe was alive.

While the elder Romulan was speaking, Mona had kicked her senses into high gear, searching the woman for any signs of lies or deceit. She could see every flow of air around her, every beat of her green blood across her cheeks. This was the truth. When she spoke, it was soft, knowing that both women would be able to easily hear her. She had amazing sight, but these two put her hearing to shame. "You speak from the truth-heart... This is what you were running from... What you were trying to protect Minay... Mnhei'sahe from... Your own mother..."

"This... and more." Jaeih said as her heart sunk. "I am a cloaking engineer. Few people, even on Romulus, attend a university to be a Tal'Shiar agent. So I still had useful skills, and Verelan wanted me to keep my mind and suffer. So... there was a penal asteroid where the Empire used scientists they considered... disposable... to develop the newest and most dangerous technology. That was where I was sent to rot. And where I escaped from when the Borg destroyed it."

"But your father was a tenacious investigator who refused to believe I was dead. He searched and he found me. I was already in business with Declan Dox, but it was never anything more than a business relationship. He had a ship and contacts and I had cloaking technology. But still, your Father found us. And in finding us, he chose to betray his own mother and the Tal'Shiar by keeping my continued existence a secret. After a time, you were born, Mnhei'sahe." She looked back up to meet her daughter's eyes, which now were softer and trembling to match Jaeih's.

"We feared what would happen if Verelan ever discovered that she had a granddaughter. I was believed to be dead, but if your Father found me, we felt it was only a matter of time. I struck a deal with Declan to create the ruse of a marriage and your Father and I hatched a plan to hide you as Declan's. The surgery on your ears was... simple enough. But to hide the fingerprint of your true Father's DNA proved much more difficult. Ultimately, we broke into a Tal'Shiar research station, the Daire'eri Docgae'elh research station, to perform the genetic overlay. But in doing so, raised too many red flags to your fathers continued absences. When he returned to his duties, it was the last time I would see him as the man I knew."

"What happened, Mother? I've seen him. He's... I know he's alive. He was a drunk, an information dealer." Mnhei'sahe replied, confused and agitated as she spoke.

"He is... alive. The next time I saw him, you were twelve and we were docked at a refueling station. He was drinking at the station tavern, very likely looking like the man as you saw him. Disheveled and broken. I went to him to find out what had happened and... and..." Jaeih's voice cracked as her body trembled. Mnhei'sahe stood up, and Mona followed but the two women stood in place.

Tears were now rolling down the elder Romulan's cheeks. "He looked at me. The man I loved... the father who loved you enough to risk everything... but he was gone. His eyes were blank. I... knew the look well. It was a look I had a hand in creating for far too many Romulans that had challenged the Empire."

Interrupting, Mnhei'sahe spoke in a hushed voice. "Verelan's Neural Extraction Converter. She... erased his mind?"

Nodding slightly, Jaeih answered. "To a degree. You see, Erasing memories is easy. Reprogramming a mind only slightly more complicated. But pulling memories out by force. That... that always leaves a mind broken. The harder you resist, the more damage the machine causes. It, for all intents and purposes, lobotomizes you. She tried to find out why he betrayed her, I think. And he kept us a secret. I believe that, or she would have found us by then. I believe he let his mind be destroyed to protect you."

Her arms twitched slightly as she stood, not knowing what to do as she kept talking. "If he could do that, I could surely maintain a lie to do the same. It was... it was better to have you turn from me as a liar then despise me as... as a monster."

"M...Mother..." Mnhei'sahe shuddered in place. "Mother... I don't... Mother..." But the words weren't enough and the emotion became too much to process. Instead, she simply stepped over and hesitantly held her arms out to her mother who had broken down, crying openly now. The elder Dox grabbed hold of her daughter, clutching her as she began to sob.

"If she found you... If... If... if... she... she could re... rewrite your mind... make you into the granddaughter she would want... I couldn't... I couldn't risk that ever, Mnhei'sahe! I COULDN'T!!" Jaeih pushed the words out in between raking sobs.

Mona also came in for the hug, wrapped her arms around both women and started thrumming softly. "There there... No more secrets ok? Just let it all out... We can get through all this together now."

Much to all three women's surprises, Jaeih took an arm and hooked it around the brilliantly plumed Miradonian that was now her daughter-in-law and clutched her tight as well as she cried. In her heart, she was beyond happy that Mnhei'sahe had found love and could no longer keep the young woman at arms length.

After a long few minutes, the sobbing slowed and Jaeih's breathing calmed down. As it did, she lifted her head slightly and tilted it, looking at the gently thrumming avian aviatrix. "...what is... is that you?"

Mona blushed softly, the lighter feathers on her cheeks turning a softer shade of yellow as the thrumming faded. "Yeah... It's sort of an affection response... I'm told most people outside of the race never hear it..."

The emotional elder Romulan cracked the slightest of smiles as she raised an eyebrow. "This close and I... well both of us... can hear your heart beat with ease, Miss. Gonadie, as I'm sure you know. But until I realized I could actually feel the vibrations coming off of you, I thought there was a tribble in here or something."

"No, just me," Mona replied sheepishly.

As Jaeih stepped back slightly to wipe her face, Mnhei'sahe let out a slightly hoarse chuckle. Her own cheeks wet from tears. It was like meeting her own mother for the first time and finally understanding her. "I'm... I'm sorry, Mother. But.. I... I understand why you needed to lie. I wish it hadn't been the case, and I still... I understand."

Standing next to Mona, Mnhei'sahe had a tight grip on her mates hand as she wiper her own cheeks.

"T... thank you, Mnhei'sahe. I have spent so long... trying to make up for my sins. Trying to... find a way to live with myself." Stepping over, she sat down hard in her chair again. As she did, Mnhei'sahe and Mona returned to the couch. "I don't expect you to ever... ever forgive me... but..."

"But you told me the truth, Mother." Mnhei'sahe interrupted. "You finally trusted me enough to do that. And that's a start. Everything else can come at its own pace. But for now, that's enough for me to make me... happy to have my Mother back."

Sitting across, tears welled up in Jaeih's eyes again as she shuddered slightly. "I had to try. I had to try and at least do this. At least try and explain... for you. For both of you, now."

The brightly plumed Miradonian nodded happily. "With the truth comes healing and with healing comes freedom. It's all part of the cycle of the Moon Goddess. I know, I'm an inventor and a pilot and here I am spouting off old religious mantras of my people... My foster family are big worshipers and a lot of what they preached seems to fit my life these days... Anyway, thank you for telling us."

"You... you're welcome. I... Thank you." Jaeih's attention was now focused more on the woman that was her Daughter-in-Law. "You have given Mnhei'sahe much. I can see so much of the comfort she gets from you in her. She... you were always a strong woman, daughter. But I can see that strength in you tempered with more than I could have ever given you."

"For that, Miss Gonadie, Mona, you will always have my respect and my thanks." Jaeih didn't quite know how to talk to Mona just yet, but she was hoping that the damage done in their first meeting wasn't impossible to fix either.

"We... we have to begin our duty shifts soon, Mother. But... thank you. I think you'll find that this ship is unlike anyplace else in this galaxy. Let it and it will change you." Mnhei'sahe said with a slight smile as she wiped her cheek dry, secretly happy that she wisely eschewed eye make up. As she spoke, she stood up and walked over to her mother.

Kneeling down before Jaeih could stand up, She gave her mother another hug as she whispered in her native Rihan, though the phrase was known quite well to Mona by now. "Ri’anov, I-jol au."

As she stood back up, Jaeih stood with her and replied in English. "I love you too, my Daughter."

She turned slightly to Mona who was standing to the side, "And yes, that goes for you as well."

Mona cocked her head to the side a bit as she went in for another hug. "Awww I can't stay mad at anyone, least of all family. I love you too." Once she separated from the hug, she held Jaeih out at arm's length for just a moment. "Now, how about we have dinner together? I have to admit that I combined a cloak from one of those new Romulan Scorpion fighters and some Miradonian stealth tech and made a new type of cloak that I have been itching to get your thoughts on."

Cocking an eyebrow up, Jaeih paused to try any unpack everything Mona had just said. "I... Have a plethora of questions about all of that as well. So, yes. Dinner would likely be required."

"But I must not keep you from your duties. But I... look forward to seeing you both again." Jaeih stepped back so the pair of officers could leave.

"I do as well, Mother. Thank you." Mnhei'sahe said as she nodded as she and Mona made their way into to corridor and began walking towards the turbolift.

Mona grinned like a canary that had gotten caught with her hand in the cuttlefish jar. "See? That went better than either of us could have hoped, right?"

The usually skeptical Mnhei'sahe couldn't help but smile as they stepped into the turbolift. "Yeah... I... I still can barely believe it. I mean, yeah. I believe it. But I didn't want to hope anymore. Now I don't quite know how to feel. But right now, I feel good."

Pacing around in the middle of her modest quarters on Deck 9, Ensign Briaar Gavarus was grumbling. There was nothing particularly out of the ordinary about the porcine engineer grumbling, as her default state of being was one of general irritation more often than not, but tonight it was for a specific reason.

Tonight, Security Crewman Jablonski was off duty, and a little bird had informed the towering Tellarite that the Amazonian Security officer was socializing in Ten-Forward and that it might be the perfect opportunity for Briaar Gavarus to finally say something to the object of her affections. Of course, the little bird in question was Gavarus' best friend and partner-in-crime, Ensign Fiona mary Margaret Josephine O'Dell.

While Gavarus paced and grumbled, O'Dell was digging through the portly engineer’s closet like a hyper-active mole on a mission. The closet was jammed with an assortment of clothes that looked like a thrift store had exploded. Everything was just a little ragged and mismatched, and nothing was hung up properly, with half of her casual wardrobe in a pile on the floor of the closet.

Similarly, Briaar's quarters were an untidy mess. There was a green, faux-leather couch that was a touch deeper than the standard one that came with the room and there were empty shipping crates stacked up with potted plants resting on them like sad, makeshift tables on either side and a uniform on a hanger dangling from a light fixture. The room was a mess that looked more like a first-year college dorm room than an officer’s quarters on a Starship. But it was in her work that the rotund engineer was organized, and she usually just jammed everything in a closet to pass her room inspections.

"This is a crap idea, Fiona! She's off duty... probably with her friends from security. I'm just going to irritate her if I try and interrupt her evening. Hell, I'm irritating myself. And what in seven hells are you doing in my closet?!" The irascible Engineer barked out.

“I’m tryin’ ta find ye somethin’ ta wear that might show off yuir goods a wee bit better and show that big gal ye like that have a fun side outside of yuir uniform, ye irritable truffle-sniffer,” O’Dell shot back as she pulled out a pair of granny panties that looked too large even for the oversized engineer. “Yeek. Wait, hold on a tic, what’s this? An actual blouse? Be still me beatin’ heart, this actually looks like it might fit AND look cute on ye! Hear, try this on whilst I look fer a skirt in this mining expedition…”

"A skirt? Yeah, good frickin' luck with that!" Gavarus scoffed as she picked up the blouse as O'Dell tossed it at her. "Oh, what fresh hell is this? This was a hand-me-down from my sister, Errine. I look like an Amish hooker in this thing. Ugh"

While she complained, she pulled off her uniform top and begrudgingly pulled the deep teal blouse over her head, her frizzy blond poof of a pony tail popping out the top.

“Amish hookers get laid occasionally ye know,” the cheerful Mariposian moppet replied, digging through the mess in the closet seeking something suitable. “Oi, looit this!”

Producing a simple black cami top with spaghetti straps, O’Dell held it out, judging spatial relations of the fabric, the stretchiness inherent in the fabric and the size of her gal-pal’s wide ass. “Aye, this ought ta do! Ye kin shimmy into it and it’ll make a snug miniskirt for yez! Show off them ham hocks yuir smuggling back there, and it goes well wi’ the blouse!”

The wee redhead held the piece of clothing out as an offering to the grouchy lovestruck lass with both hands and a winning smile.

"Mini... you're out of your tiny, inbred mind!" Gavarus held up the Cami with a shocked expression across her pig-like face. Groaning and muttering under her breath, she pulled the blouse back off.

"Stupidgoddamneddumbassnonsense... Nevergonnafrickingeventalktoher... I'm gonna look like goddamn joke this assinine get up..." As she grumbled, the blouse got snagged on her thick, wiry ponytail. "GODDAMNIT!"

Tossing the blouse angrily on the.couch, she pulled the snug Cami over and down over her plump posterior. Pulled taunt, it only barely came to the middle-top of her thick, pink thights. With a loud groan, she snatched the blouse back up and pulled it on.

With vitriol in her voice, she strick an exaggeratedly frumpy pose and blurted out. "Ta-frickin'-da."

Unbowed and unmoved, O’Dell was unfazed by the grouchiness, the throwing around of clothing, the muttering or the swearing. Having quickly become the best of friends, she knew this was all part of the process, and she was unafraid of Ensign Gavarus- while she would put herself down and tease O’Dell in equal measure, the big porcine woman was rather fiercely defensive of the tiny test pilot. Thus the petite pilot could proceed with the fearlessness native to her heritage, which lent itself well to this particular endeavor.

“Ye look cute!” O’Dell insisted, nodding in approval. “We might consider letting yuir hair down, but I suspect that’s a bigger fight than civilian clothes fuir ye. Have yez any heels or… oh right, nivvir mind. So do ye polish the cloven hooves when ye want to kick yuir heels up or what?”

"I can polish them up by kicking you in the..." As she muttered the clearly meaningless pseudo-threat, Gavarus tried putting the band off of the massive and unruly ponytail she kept her hair in.

“Joost the tip!” O’Dell snickered.

"Ow! Dammit! OW!" Gavarus tugged the band out with no small amount of difficulty as her hair was beyond tangled. As she dropped the used band on the floor, a tribble-sized wad of hair came with it. With her thick, three fingered hands she tried fluffing her hair into something resembling a pleasant shape, succeeding only in making it look like an enormous, platinum blonde Brillo pad surrounding her head on all sides like a beach ball.

“Aye, that’s the ticket! Like a halo surroundin an angel!” O’Dell chirped, nodding as she looked up at the desperately unconfortable and decidedly frustrated Tellarite. “Okay, so I should go change meself so tis nae quite so obvious we’re putting yer on the market. So why don’t you,” the wee wingman poked her porcine pal in the tummy, “go have ye a wee nip to take the edge off, and I’ll be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail after I put on something a bit more casual than me uniform, alreet?”

"A Halo? I think you're already frickin' drunk." Gavarus clomped over to the crate of leftover Andorian ale she got from the Chief Engineer's wedding and poured herself An extremely generous glass.

Those big green eyes that seemed a bit big for the leprechaun's head beamed up at the egregarious engineer, and Fiona resisted the urge to remind Gavarus to trim her nose hairs. Given the girl she was chasing, the odds of her seeing from the same perspective as O’Dell would only come to pass if the evening went far better than expected.

As O'Dell bounded away.to get changed, Gavarus flumped on the deep, plush couch with her legs spread wide, not thinking about how short that faux skirt really was as she downed the first glass.

"Aaaagg... yeah. Good idea. Take the edge off." Wincing slightly at the strength of the liquor, Briaar quickly refilled her glass and kept at it, her nerves making her not quite pay attention to how much she was drinking. But after the disastrous first meeting with Jablonski that ended with Gavarus burping in the Amazonian security officers face mid-introduction, Gavarus was a wreck and too nervous to think straight.

By the time O’Dell returned, clad in a bright green and white striped high-necked top with a pair of matching shorts and white sneakers, she looked less like a woman on the prowl for company than a child preparing to be dropped off at school. Although she had made good time, ten minutes had passed, during which she thought Gavarus was on her first drink. Walking into the quarters, she shielded her eyes.

“ACH! Briaaaaar! Dinna sit like that, ye peat-bog polliwog, yuir wearin a skirt and ye’re scarrin’ me for life! Jaysis Jooseph and alla the saints preserve us!” The tiny redhead held her hand up in front of her eyes even as she squinted and looked away. “Have ye had a wee nip ‘o Dutch courage?”

Not having been aware of how she was sitting, Gavarus was legitimately embarrassed for a second but she got over it quickly enough as she took a sip of what O'Dell didn't know was her third drink, finishing off the glass. "Well... Andorian courage, technically. But yeah, I've... I've nipped."

With a bit of a grunt, the thick-middled engineer pulled herself up from the ass-eating couch, bending over slightly as she did. Turning around to put her empty glass on the makeshift table, the tall Tellarite bent over further allowing the thin material of the cami to allow her small, pig-like tail to poke a slight fabric tent in the back of her outfit right in front of O'Dell. "Okay... lets do this then!"

‘Ach… Briaar me dove… mebbe tug yuir skirt down a wee bit ta offer a nod to modesty?” the vaguely traumatized tiny test pilot offered. “Hem of the skirt at least down to your fingertips, aye?”

Realizing this was far out of the comfort zone of her porcine pal, the wee lass grasped the hem of the skirt and tugged it down into place, making sure the seams were straight and that she was still covered appropriately. While she was no expert on women’s fashion nor how to dress to pick up a man. Or a Clydesdale with tits. If anything, she was more worried about what might happen if her friend succeeded in picking up the mountain of muscle she’d set her sights on in the Security department, since it looked like Jablonski could snap the grouchy engineer in half if she had a mind to do so.

But for now, it was showtime.

“Alreet! Let’s get oot there and ye kin be cool and confident and…” O’Dell tapered off as she stood in front of the door which opened itself and she considered. “Better, let’s show her ye are sarcastic and bitter and nervous around pretty girls and maybe she’ll decide that’s adorable. Aye?” As always, O’Dell beamed a smile up to her pugnacious pal to try to put a positive spin on the situation and encourage her to be confident in being herself. It hadn’t worked yet, but hope sprung eternal in the bonny lass of the Bringloidians.

"Ugh... okay. I'm never going to be any more ready or any less... me... then I am right now. So let's go." Gavarus groaned as she tried to straighten out her outfit, running her hands down the front of her prodigious belly, hoping it would magically disappear in doing so.

As usual, O'Dell bounded out the room into the corridor with Gavarus trudging along behind, rolling her eyes as they made their way through the ship an all the way to Ten-Forward. And much to the anxious Tellarite's dismay, the room was busier than normal as they arrived. But that didn't stop the pernicious pixie from striding in like she owned the room. Across from the bar, Gavarus's heart fell into her stomach as she caught sight of Jablonski sitting at a nearby table looking every bit as perfect and statuesque as ever.

"Bar. Go to the bar. More alcohol." Gavarus nervously whispered. "I think they have the real stuff in the back."

“Ye dinna need another…” O’Dell started to say, but then realized that denying her bosomy buddy more liquid courage would only make her that much more nervous. “Well, ye only had one drink in yuir quarters, so another canna hurt. And ye know the replicators can make the real stuff if’n ye ask? Twas the first thing me Uncle Danilo asked once he found out what a replicator was when we evacuated Bringliodi.” Skipping to the bar, O’Dell asked for one finger of Andorian Ale, and a half-pint of Guinness for herself. Turning back to her friend, she nearly ran into Gavarus, who was sticking very close to her wingman.

“Alreet, alreet, calm doown. Look, she’s over there all by herself, readin. So she’s nae busy and she’s nae wi’ people, so that means she came here ta joost relax, and that’s a good thing,” O’Dell reported, handing the tumbler up to her thick-fingered friend. “So we kin joost go talk to her. Or ye kin go yuirself if ye dinna want yuir annoyin like pest aboot muckin up the works?” Fiona liked to offer options in such circumstances, but inwardly she suspected Briar Gavarus would cling to her like a life preserver on rough seas in this particular engagement.

As soon as the drink was in her hand, Gavarus was drinking and looking for any conceivable way to avoid going through with the plans of her ambitious wingman. "Yeah... she's reading,” the anxious engineer whispered with remarkable loudness. "Reading means she doesn't want people creeping on her, O'Dell."

Whapping the oversized engineer on the arm, the diminutive doll tasked. “Whist! I’ll nae have ye shootin yuirself down before ye take a chance, ye great gangly golem ‘a grease! For all ye know she’s here joost wonderin if that big pork belly she talked to the other night is g’win ta come in ta talk to her, aye? Joost as likely. Now goo!”

Stepping in behind Gavarus, O’Dell tried to push the considerably larger mammal, with spectacular lack of success. Turning to put her back into it, the Mariposian midget grunted and strained, but could not move the anxious anthropomorph. Huffing, blowing her own unruly mop of red curls out of her face, O’Dell walked around to look up at her self-doubting shipmate. Looking up from beneath her knitted brows, O’Dell quite closely resembled a small dog preparing to bite.

“If ye dinna go over there and talk to her, I will. And while I’m over there unsupervised I might say all manner of things. So ye’ve a choice. Ye kin go talk to the girl ye like, or I’ll go talk to her, and you’ll be at me mercy as to what I tell her aboot ye.” At that, O’Dell did her level best to look menacing, although it mostly made her look like a petulant child.

"Would you cut it out!" Gavarus muttered down at the tiny terror of Ten-Forward. "I'll go overr, let's just... I don't know... be causal f'r a bit 'r something. We can sit at the barr, have a few drinks, look all... frrrickin' relaxed and not planning on creeping on anyone, 'k?"

Not waiting for a reply, Gavarus waved her empty glass to the bartender for a refill, completely unaware that she was starting to slur her words a little. "So, anotherr dr'nk then I'll go overr, 'k. I swear, y'r like a yappy puppy. Don' make me put you in my purse."

Catching the hint, the professional lightweight drunk suddenly suspected that her erstwhile Juliet had maybe put down a few more than just one drink back in her room, and that despite superior size and body weight the liquor was likely catching up with her now, and it was only going to get worse as she kept pounding them down. A worried expression passed across her face, then she wiped it away with a change of plans. “Aye, yuir right Briarr, me old sot. I shouldnae be pooshin ye, and I’m sorry. Let’s joost have us a drink at the bar and we kin take our time, aye?”

Clambering up onto a barstool, the petulant pixie fairly beamed. “Another round for me friend, please?” she asked, smiling brightly as she kept one eye on the off-duty security officer, and internally she wondered just how she was going to avert disaster.

Sitting at the bar and taking down what was, in actuality, her fifth drink, Briaar was feeling much more relaxed but in no way more willing to actually talk to Jablonski as she tried to distract O'Dell with small talk.

"So... I got Gon'die t' 'prove 'ditional shielding f'r th' Cyclone interrriorr shielding so there's more shielding on th' interrriorr." She rambled slightly, finishing off round five and not even waiting to gesture for a refill.

"Do ya think if we add a nanopoll... Nano... Polymer t' the joints on th' superchicken we c'n reduce the stress on th' load bearrring joints? Do ya think? Fiona? What do ya think?" Gavarus continued, somehow still making decent sense in spite of the slurring and increasing goofiness.

"I think she dinna need more slip an' slide, what she needs is shock absorbency. Them outer plates need ta be shaped joost som so's they reflect imnpact an' bounce back. That'll save wear an tear on the joints, I'm thinkin. Mayyyyybe nanopolymer on the skin of the beastie...?" Distracting the drunk was one thing, but this was thei project and their passion, these two vehicles in which they were assigned to design together. This the little leprechain could talk about all day.

"Yesyesyesyes!" Gavarus responded quickly, her usual reserved grumpiness replaced, thanks to the power of Andorian ale, with what a casual observer might confuse with O'Dell's excitement. "So we take the bird' laet 'n add in a polyad... polydapa... A POLY. ADAPT'VE micro resin joint system. We use inder... Under... independently powerrrred shaped shielding t'..."

Suddenly talking with her hands, Gavarus held her fingers as if they were going to interlock but kept them floating apart. "Shaped shiedling to modulate the joints t' absorb impact wit' the poly... The... that stuff!"

As she talked, having taken her hands off the edge of the bar, the towering Tellarite began sliding ever so slowly to the side, like a tree about to tip over off of her barstool.

Hopping to the floor, O'Dell raced to the other side of the room. Stopping short of the table at which Jablonski was hunched over a tablet reading, O'Dell patted the table in a stacatto drumbeat to get the big woman's attention. "Halp? She's drunk, she's tippin and I canna catch her!"

Her piece said, O'Dell ran back across the room to the bar, where the drunken engineer was still doing a slow slide out of her chair. As she arrived to start shoving at Gavarus to get her to stay on her barstool and leaning on the bar, O'Dell hissed, "Yuir dreamgirl's aboot ta help ye git oop, so be gracious an' charming!"

"Huh, what?" Gavarus suddenly snapped to attention, and became very quickly aware that gravity was winning a tug of war with her. Unfortunately, the rapid.attempt to somehow magically sober up and stabilize herself only served to push her and her stool over further away from the bar.

"SHIIIIII..." The inebriated engineer called out as she quickly found herself caught by the approaching Jablonski.

"Okie dokey, up ya go dere," The beefy security officer grabbed Gavarus under the armpits to reset her center of gravity even as she maneuvered Gavarus back onto the stool. Steadying her with one hand on her back, Jablonski leaned on the bar to eye the Tellarite engineer. "What's goin on here, eh? You just got here, didn'tcha? I, ah, saw ya come in witcher little pally dere just a minute ago or so. Howcome you're so drunk already, eh?"

"She's tryin' ta work up the nerve ta talk to a girl!" O'Dell chirped from the other side, where she'd already clambered onto a barstool.

Embarrassed, Gavarus jerked around in her seat towards O'Dell to snap back, "FiOOna!!! What's you... shut uup!"

Then, in the same breath, the porcine engineer turned quickly back around to face the Amazon standing at her side. "Yeah... I... uh... we were... I was... I had a few drinks before we got here and... didn't....urrp...

Having whipped her head around a little too quickly a few too many times, the Andorian ale began working it's way back up Gavarus' throat, but she was able to swallow it back down as the butterflies in her stomach began to clear her head just enough.. "It... uh... was a long day and I guess I maybe started early... uh... But... Um... thanks for helping me out there."

Watching Jablonski loom trying to think of what to say, Fiona rolled her eyes. "Why donchye join us, aye? After all, she might get to fallin again soon, and I need to get some coffee inta her ta sober her oop, eh? Y'like coffee? Aye, o'copurse ye do, yuir Security. Ye run on coffee and protien shakes." O'Dell flagged down the bartender and requested two cups of coffee, then she sat down and looked for her beer, which was in front of Jablonski.

"Canna win fuir losing tonight," the leprechaun muttered.

For her part, the amazonian security officer took a delicate and uncertain seat on the barstool, and looked around awkwardly, although she did seem alert to whether Gavarus was going to fall off her chair.

For Gavarus, it felt like it had suddenly become twenty degrees hotter in Ten-Forward as Jablonski was now sitting right next to her. Her head felt a bit clearer as she swallowed. She glanced at O'Dell who seemed fit to pop with anticipation as she waved and hissed at her. Then she took a breath to tried to talk. She was sitting right there, and it was now or never.

"So... uh... what is it you were re..." But as she spoke, her eyes began to water as she felt everything in her stomach rapidly threaten to evacuate right then and there. With a forced smile and knitted brows, the tall Tellarite scrambled off her stool and out to door to the reclimator across the hall where she immediately began to vomit as soon as the door closed and locked behind her.

"She fancies ye, boot ye make her very, verrrry nervous cuz yer s'pretty an all." O'Dell stepped from one barstool to the next before settling down in Gavarus' seat, so that she could reach her half-pint of bitters. "Hello, me wee darlin. I'll not be drinkin enough a'ye to make me sick like that, aye?"

As O'Dell delicately tipped and sipped her beer, the large Minnesota colony girl from the 1.5 gravity world of Cestus 4 sat... confused.

"She, ah, she thinks I'm pretty, hah? That's cute, I guess, in a weird sorta way that upsets her tummy?" Jablonski turned to look at the reclamator. "Ya think I should go check on her? I'm Security yannoo, I can go in there."

"Nah, she'd only puke on yuir shoes. Go lay low in another part'a the bar, and I'll convince her to go home and fry her bacon over how awful she is at wooin." Leaning into the gaze of the security officer, O'Dell smiled at her.

"Yuir bein a good sport wi' me pal. Thankye fuir being kind to her, even though she's, well, her." The midget Mariposian twiddled her fingers on her beer for a few seconds, then looked up at the hulking security officer with Puss-in-Boots eyes. "Briaar's got a guid heart... try nae ta break it if ye can, aye?"

With that said, the little leprechaun took one more swig of her beer, still leaving it barely touched, and hopped off her barstool. Rolling up her sleeves, she headed for the reclamator, muttering under her breath the whole way.

In her wake, Jablonski stared after her in mild disbelief, before she got up and moved to another part of the bar, shaking her head the whole way.

Sitting on the floor, hugging the matter reclamator, Gavarus was muttering to herself, "Ooooh my Gods... I am never drinking again. In a million years I am never... ugh... I am never drinking again."

From outside the door, Gavarus could hear O"Dell's tiny feet bounding towards her as a gentle rap on the door was heard. "Ugh... go 'way." The mortified Tellarite grumbled.

"C'mon, ye great barfin beastie. Let's get ye back ta quarters before Medical has to get involved. Yuir dream girl's left, so tis safe ta come oot noow," O'Dell explained through the door of the stall. "No embarrassment out here, I promise ye."

As the door opened, Gavarus looked both exhausted and haggard. It was clear that the stream of vomit that had finally subsided had also come with their share of tears, that she was going out of her way to hope O'Dell wouldn't notice. "Fine. I'm out. Huzzah. Let's just get out of here and forget this night ever happened please."

"Alreet," the small spacer spoke softly, so no one else would hear. "I canna carry ye, so I wantye oop, shoulders back, head up like yuir on review at the Academy, aye? Ye march oota here like yuir off to get a bedamned medal, ye understand? Nae scuttlin away like a thief in the night. So first step, wash yuir face. And I brought ye a hairband, aye?" O'Dell held up the spare ponytail holder she'd snagged from Briaar's room since her outfit had pockets.

Washing her face off and pulling her hair back, Gavarus straightened herself up and the pair walked out like nothing had happened. The embarrassed engineer struggled to resist the urge to look back to see if Jablonski was watching.

As the odd couple of the Hera made their way down the corridor to the turbolift, Gavarus muttered to the pint-sized pilot at her side, "We are not doing this again, O'Dell. Two strikes is more than enough for me and contrary to popular opinion, I do not enjoy punishment."

The Andorian ale largely back in the matter reclamator, Gavarus was feeling fuzzy but much more sober as the reached the turbolift. "So... how bad was that, really?"

"Naaaaaaaae too badly! It could hae gone wayyyyy worse than that. Ye dinna lose yuir ball in the lake, ye joost chipped inta the rough is all. Faint of heart ne'er won the hand of maiden fair, so they say, and tonight ye were nae faint of heart... joost of irritable guts," O'Dell lightly poked her pork-bellied friend in the source of her discontentment. "But tomorrow is another day, aye? And who knows, maybe she thinks a girl who barfs at the prospect a'talkin to her is adorable?"

As O'Dell poked her belly, Gavarus groaned. "Oh, sweet evil hells, don't do that! Not unless you want me to spew all over this extremely cramped turbolift we're in together."

"Deck nine." Gavarus grumbled as the lift began to move down a deck. A short trip that passed in brief silence before the doors opened and the pair made their.way back to the Tellarite engineer's messy little room. Once there, Gavarus called up a.coffee on the replicator and flumped on her couch.

"And no. No 'tomorrow'. I'm done. Kaput. No more for me, thank you very much." Gavarus was emphatic but depressed sounding as she conceded defeat.

A sad expression on her face, O’Dell focused on her shoes as she spoke. “M’sorry, Briaar. This is me fault. Yuir me friend and I wantcha to be happy, so I pooshed ya because I… somebody ought to find love, right?” The small spacer looked up guiltily at the towering Tellarite. “I dinna want to see you lonely, because yuir me friend and ye mean a lot to me. I’ll stop, though. I meddle and I know better but I joost… m’sorry.”

Taking a long swig of her coffee and smiling as it warmed her turbulent stomach, Gavarus scoffed. "Oh, stop it. You didn't do a damn thing wrong, Fiona. I frickin' let you help and asked for advice. Besides, I'M the bitch who crashed and burned here, so I'm not sharing the self-pity. None for you, Leprechaun."

The fuzzy headed Tellarite smirked at her friend. "And as long as your around, I'm in no danger of being alone anytime soon, right? At this point, I don't think I could get rid of you. You're like a frickin' TICK." As she said so, she put her cup down and put her fingers up at the side of her mouth, mimicking mandibles as she put on an exaggerated growl.

That brought a shy smile back to the face of the picayune pilot, whose moods were nothing if not mercurial, and she took the cheering up to heart, because it was true. “Aye, ye’ve a point there. No one else on the ship’d put up with yeh, and I do attach pretty quickly. Raaar!” With that, the 90 pound weakling launched herself at her oversized pal, play fighting to bite her. “Once I get me fangs in yui’ll nivvir be rid ‘a me! Plus lyme disease!! Gnar gnar gnar!”

Shaking her arm when O'Dell was mock-biting her, Gavarus began laughing. "Git offa me, you little weirdo! Ha Ha Ha! This is my one not hideous outfit and it doesn't need leprechaun slobber on it!"

As the two women laughed, some of the embarrassment of the night faded for Gavarus. She would worry about tomorrow, tomorrow. And for tonight, she had a best friend and a hangover to try and avoid. "I need to eat something. Do you want anything?" She asked as she stood up to walk over to the replicator.

"What do you eat again? Like... sheep stomachs and tripe?" Her own now empty stomach gurgled unhappily at her own joke.

“Well, aye, Ah do eat alla that, and I wilnae recommend it, seein’ how ye’re a vegemetarian and all. But sure, I could eat. How aboot ice cream? Or some cake? Or maybe pancakes wi’ strawberries an’ cream?” From the sound of it, one might assume that the primary food group in the annoying urchin’s diet was sugar.

"Okay... So you don't need any more.damn energy. But breakfast stuff does sound good and settling." Gavarus stood at the replicator, pondering.

"Computer, two... uh...servings of Pancakes. One with Starwberries and Cream. One with Butter and Maple syrup." She pressed the button and two plates shimmered into existence with the steaming meals upon them. The hungry engineer put them on her small, glass table against the wall and went to grab her coffee.

"There you go. I know there's no brains or feet in there, but I'm sure you'll survive." She smirked at O'Dell as she sat down. "So, did any of the nonsense Ideas I was spouting make any sense? I honestly barely remember talking about work."

“Oh aye, it all sounded good!” O’Dell chirped as she dug into the meal provided, hacking a wedge out of the circular meal. “Dinna worry, I’ll type it all up and send it to ye so it can be submitted to the Chief for review. I got yuir back!” With that said, O’Dell stuffed an enormous mouthful- at least, for her- in and cheeks bulging like a squirrel in spring, she began chewing, which usually kept her quiet for a few seconds at least.

"Good." Gavarus replied as she relaxed a bit. "I felt like it didn't completely suck, so that's something." She raised her arms in mock triumph with her mouth full.

"I can engineer drunk! Victory!" Gavarus declared through the pancake in her mouth. "Well... A victory." She added, swallowing.

“Take ha oo kin git,” O’Dell mumbled through a mouthful of pancakes. “F’na fo bad, Briaar…” With a herculean effort, the pugnacious pixie swallowed, then burped slightly. “Ye got oot there, ye dressed oop nice and ye went out and put yuirself oot there. Faint of heart ne’er won the hand of fair maiden, so ye did okay tonight. And yeh had some good engineerin’ ideas to boot. So I calls it a win!” With that, O’Dell stuffed another mouthful of food in and started chewing.

"Weak of stomach never won any hands either, Leprechaun." Gavarus commented with a smirk that faded to a sincere smile. "But... uh... thanks."

“Dinna ye worry, yeh great barfin beastie, yuir stuck wi’ me. Who needs a big burly Amazon Clydesdale when ye’ve got a wee tiny miniature pony aboot?” O’Dell sat back on the couch, crossing her legs beneath herself as she grinned, clearly pleased with herself. While she had hoped to help Gavarus connect with the big shy Security officer, inwardly she felt guilty to be relieved that her friend would not be abandoning her for a lover, as was usually the case when such things came to pass.

Impulsively, Fiona scooted over to lean against her big buddy, and silently patted her bicep, trying to offer some comfort.

Smiling in spite of herself, the not-so-grumpy Tellarite mussed the crimson mane of her tiny friend, happy all the same.

At 05:02, Ensign Fiona O'Dell had gotten up, peed, jumped into workout clothes and run to the door of Ensign Briaar Gavarus. Her insistent door chime ringing produced no effect, sop she ran back to her quarters, grabbed her comm badge and clipped it onto her oversized grey t-shirt. Tapping it, she bolted out into the hallway again.

"O'Dell to Ensign Gavarus. Wake up ye snorin' boar, we got to git oot and goo to the gym today! Ye promised ta be the Mick ta me Rocky, aye? Get oop!" Arriving back at the door to Gavarus' quarters, the persistent poppet pressed the door chime again.

After a long moment, the sound of thumping around could be heard from inside. A few seconds later, the door wooshed open revealing Ensign Briaar Gavarus on the other side. She was wearing a long, baggy purple nightshirt and her mane of wiry platinum blonde hair was standing up in every direction as she looked at the pixie test pilot with a half-lidded expression of disgust.

"What the frickin' hell time is it, Fee?" Gavarus grumbled, wiping her eyes.

"It's oh five hundred, Briaar! Time when the fit an' healthy people goo hit the gym so they have time to lie doown and die afterward, peel themselves outta a puddle a' their own sweat, get a shower then report on time fuir duty at 07:00. Ye promised to help me get in shape, so drivin' the Thunderchicken won't kill me, remember?" The merry Mariposian beamed up at her Tellarite companion with wide pleading eyes. For an alien born on a distant world far from Earth, O'Dell sounded and even looked exactly like one would expect an Earth girl from Ireland to sound, complete with the mop of red hair that was pulled back into a high poofy ponytail. A style favored by her porcine partner.

"Ugh..." Gavarus grunted. "Whoever invented oh five hundred hours should be shot. With punches. A phaser that shoots angry fists. Fists with spikes on them."

"Okay. C'mon. Let me throw something on." The grumpy Gavarus flumped back into her room to pee and get dressed, not bothering to close any doors behind her. As she did so, the little lass began picking up clothes and sorting them into a clean and dirty pile, most of which were dirty. Catching the grunt from the room's occupant, she shrugged.

"Today's also room inspections, so we might want to clean oop this pigsty joost a tetch if'n ye dinna want ta go on report, aye?" There was no rancor in the statement, just the reminder as she picked up a stack of plates and cups to take them to the replicator to be recycled. In fact, the wee woman was humming happily to herself as she did so, as rather obnoxiously, O'Dell was a morning person.

"That's today? Frickin' hell." Gavarus replied from the reclamator, clearly and audibly peeing. After a moment, she washed up, brushed her teeth, pulled her unruly Brillo pad of hair into a ponytail and emerged, throwing on a pair of baggy sweat pants and a sports bra.

"Okay. Let's go kill ourselves to ensure you don't die driving the Thunderchicken." The towering Tellarite said as she tossed a baggy black T-Shirt that simply read 'HERA' in the front in blue.

"Hey! Twinsies!" O'Dell held out the oversized t-shirt that was approximately the same size as the one Gavarus was wearing, also emblazoned with the simple HERA logo.

Rolling her eyes, Gavarus chuckled as the headed out to the ships gym. "Indeed. How will anyone tell us apart."

After a few minutes of O'Dell bounding about tidying up the messy quarters in an effort to help the sloppy spanner jockey’s room pass inspection as Gavarus dragged ass, the unlikely pair made it to the ship’s secondary gymnasium on deck 11. As the doors opened, two of the ships titanic security Amazons walked out, glistening with sweat and laughing to themselves about whatever it was they were talking about. As they passed, Gavarus' neck craned to watch them leave, in not-too-subtle awe.

“Ye do like ‘em thick, doncha Briaar? Well, ye sure picked the right ship fuir that, dincha,” O’Dell chirped quietly where Gavarus could hear, as she was getting used to keeping an ear cocked for Fiona’s high-pitched lilt. “Ah picked this gymnasium because the Security gals tend to train in the other one. Aaaand there’s the boss over there in the ring with… izzat one of the Klingon girls…?”

"Yeah. The security team are all built like frickin' goddesses..." Gavarus commented, still half-watching the two Amazons as they walked down the corridor before bringing her attention back to O'Dell.

"Huh? Shit, yeah. Uh... I don't remember with one, though. The angry one?" Gavarus tilted her head as the duo watched Lieutenant Dox and Petty Officer S'Rina fighting in the ring rather intensely, trying not to be noticed. "Damn! That is way too much energy for this early."

“Sweet Mother Macree, I dunno, I thought all Klingons counted as ‘the angry one’? Pog me thoin, lookit the Lieutenant go… she’s bloody murder!” O’Dell watched the Lieutenant bring a knee up into the Klingon's midsection, only to have the musclebound warrior woman grab her into a hold and slam the ace pilot into the mat. "Ouch. So accordin’ ta the manual, I should start off by establishin’ me capabilities so's we have a watermark ta start with. Ye with me on this one?”

"There's a manual? Go fig." Gavarus said, with an expression of mock surprise, bringing her attention back to the diminutive pixie. "So, does it say how we do that? Do I have to chase you or throw medicine balls at you or something?"

“Nae, tisn’t a game of dodgeball,” O’Dell shook her tousled red head of curls. “I hafta see how far I kin run, how many pushups and situps and that rot I can do, so we can figure oot how outta shape I am. So, ye g’win ta do this wi’ me or joost make me do it all and record the results?" O’Dell fetched out a PaDD from a rack of them, tapped up the checklist of exercises and handed it over to Gavarus.

A short snort of a laugh was the rotund engineer's initial response. "Ha... yeah, no. I'm here to help. But this luxurious temple likes to avoid..." The porcine woman gestured with her fingers to the room with a sarcastic smirk, "... all this crap unless absolutely necessary. That and since I literally can't sweat, no. But hey, I'll cheer you on."

"Dinna worry, I'll sweat fir the both of us!"

A flurry of activity followed, in which O’Dell found both strengths and weaknesses. While she could do a dozen sit-ups, she managed twenty squat thrusts, seven entire pushups, a full 25 jumping jacks, and she decided to try again later after her full minute of struggling failed to produce a single chin-up, as the petite pixie lacked the strength to lift her own weight with her arms. She couldn't curl the 20 kg bar more than twice, her stick arms giving out in muscle fatigue on the third. Now she was struggling to run on the treadmill, already exhausted and dripping with sweat.

"How far... have Ah gone... izzit a few kilometers already?" she gasped.

Walking over and taking a bite out of a cream filled chocolate donut that she somehow acquired, Gavarus was partly distracted watching Dox and S'Rina continuing to go at it as the massive Klingon got a lock on and threw the portly pilot down to the mat with a loud slam. "Damn, watching those two is frickin' painful. And... I think they're smack talking each other IN Klingon while they go. Huh?"

“Ye speak Klingon?” O’Dell wheezed in surprise as she staggered on.

"Me? No. It's all yelling and phlegm. Like listing to a really angry rabbi." Gavarus scoffed. "Which is exactly what they sound like in there. So I guess Dox speaks it. Weird. But they look like they're having fun. Go fig."

Looking down at the PaDD in her other hand where she was monitoring O'Dell's progress, Gavarus took the last bite of her donut and muttered with filled cheeks. "Yeah, no. You are at... point five three kilometers. But you're making good time."

“Great… that’s great… lemme know when I make it... to 3K… so Ah kin throw up on ye…” O’Dell gasped, but the plucky pilot persisted, pushing herself as she was wont to do when it came to her job. While Fiona O’Dell was reasonably easygoing otherwise, her job now required far more strength and endurance than ever before given the nature of the experimental mecha that she was involved in testing. There was always someone smarter, faster, better-connected or just more desirable for the posting in her experience.

So while Chief Gonadie had assured her that she was the pilot for the job, O’Dell felt obligated to validate that faith by pushing herself, improving herself and ensuring that she could go further, work faster, perform higher to confirm the chief’s faith in her.

Even though the training might kill her first.

"I'll get you a bucket if it comes to that. I might even hold your hair if I'm feeling generous." The tall Tellarite commented sarcastically.

“Ain’t you a pal… Aren’t ye… worried aboot… yuir physical quals… in a few months… Gavarus?” the little leprechaun wheezed as she trotted on the treadmill, encouraged by the report that she was making good time.

"Unless worry burns calories, I don't see the point. I'll hit the pool later, maybe. I dunno. I'm a frickin' engineer. Unless I get too fat to fit in a Jefferies tube, it all feels like too much of a pain in the ass." the portly porcine shrugged. "I passed last quarter. I'll suss it out."

“Size ya are… I’m surprised ye fit… in one noow…” O’Dell snarked back, reflexively running a bit quicker as if to get away from potential danger despite the fact that the treadmill wasn’t going anywhere. “It couldna hurt ya to… get in shape a little… oh laird jaysis I take it back… it does hurt. Save yuirself, Briaar! Git… another donut and… tell Chief Gonadie I died well… chained to a treadmill…”

"Well, get off the damn thing and take a rest." Gavarus remembered how hard O'Dell pushed herself in the Thunderchicken simulation, almost to the point of literally killing herself just to not appear weak, and she got a little more serious. "This is going to work over time. You do a little bit more every day, building up stamina, pipsqueak. Cool down."

As she spoke, she pushed the controls on the treadmill to begin the cooldown cycle as it began to slow on O'Dell, not waiting for her to respond or object. Picking up a squirt bottle from a bench to the side, she put it in the cupholder on the railing of the treadmill. "Slow down of I'll hose you down with that."

“Okay… alreet… but I gotta… make a whole… 3K today… goals!” O’Dell picked up the water bottle to suck down a few mouthfuls of water while she ran, taking the hint to hydrate and staggering along a little slower. “Ah know the chief… said I got it, but… I worry, ye ken? I canna… let everybody down… gotta get me tiny arse… in shape…m’a test pilot! We canna… proper test the Thunder… chicken if the pilot… canna keep oop!”

"Okay, enough. Now you listen to your trainer." Gavarus walked around to the front of the treadmill and leaned across the top, holding up her PaDD so O'Dell could see. "See this graph. This is every pilot in the flight control department. See this line up here at 92%? That's Chief Gonadie's average sim rating over a two-month curve. Right below it at 86%? That's the crazy lady over there punching a Klingon in the throat."

Looking up, Gavarus winced slightly as she caught a glimpse of the ongoing sparring match across the room. "And guess where you rate?"

As O'Dell opened her mouth to speak, Gavarus cut her off. "Shut it, rhetorical. You're here. 74%. And the next line... all the way down here is MacNielle at 54%>"

Swiping her finger across the screen a different graph came up. "This is the three pilots that have sat in the Thunderchicken so far. That line at the top ain't freakin' Gonadie, Leprechaun. That's you at 18.7 minutes. Down here is Dox at 6.1 minutes. And Gonadie at 3.8."

Picking up the water bottle, Gavarus plopped the tip in O'Dell's mouth as she ran. "Hydrate. Your job is exactly as secure as your ability to survive trying to kill yourself to impress them. So calm your tiny tits. You've got this."

Stopping the treadmill, O’Dell sucked down a few more mouthfuls of water, then leaned on her knees while she caught her breath. “I dinna… have any tits a'tall, so I… canna calm ‘em… but alreet, yeh win, I’ll nae… kill meself tryin ta measure oop… joost don’t feed me to the crazy ladies. I dinna… think me Starfleet judo is g’win ta… help me aginst one ‘a them…”

Turning to peer at the sparring duo, O’Dell winced visibly as she saw the Klingon take a punch to the ribs that staggered her back, before she snarled and whipped out a sidekick. Which was followed by a flurry of kicks designed to drive her attacker back. Which in turn resulted in the redheaded Romulan catching the foot and twisting it, to slam the Klingon warrior to the mat.

“Ach! That all looks so painful… why would be people do that on purpose…?” she mused, crossing her arms to hold herself as the brutal display continued. It was clear that while she had no trouble merrily murdering from the cockpit of a war machine, watching humanoids physically brawl with one another in person intimidated the short starfighter.

"Gaah..." Gavarus scrunched her face watching for a moment as well. Shaking her head, she replied, "I... do not think I want to know, Fee. More power to 'em, I guess."

"Seriously, though. You've got this. And if you were just using regular, manual controls in the Thunderchicken, this wouldn't even be an issue. I mean, you're trying to keep up with an experimental neural rig and you're still kicking it's designers ass on stamina. We keep at this, you'll be writing fickin' aviation history." Gavarus snatched the water bottle out of O'Dell's hands and squirted some in her own mouth before tossing it back, which the midget Mariposan caught handily.

“Okay... a wee bit further then… I’ll walk, I’ll walk, I joost need ta…” Seeing the expression on Gavarus’ face, O’Dell stepped up onto the treadmill so she could get close to eye level with her tall trainer.

“No O’Dell’s ever amounted to a hill ‘a beans in the history of anything,” Fiona whispered. “I dinna want to stay and tend goats and sheep an’ shaggies and a poochine still for some drunken sot of a husband on Mariposa, so I joined Starfleet. I passed the test to be a pilot, so they let me train ta be a pilot… mostly because I think they figured I’d be a mascot or somethin’. But I finished the program- dead last, but Ah finished it!”

“So this… this is me big chance ta do somethin' real, ye know? Somethin’ that could make a difference, like ye said, make avionics history. Little people like me, they dinna get big chances like this. So it’s… it’s important ta me, Briaar. I think it might be the most important thing I ever do, so it’s… Ah hafta do good. Better’n good. Ye ken?” O’Dell eyed the dubious designer with wide, trusting eyes. It was a large admission for the little lass, and she’d only been willing to say it aloud in whispers.

"And to think, you've done all of that and only have to tend to one pig to make it happen," Gavarus smirked, looking down at her PaDD that was keeping a tally of Fiona's vitals, which were consistent with someone working out, but otherwise fine. Pushing the button on the treadmill, it started back up.

"Two point five kilometers to go, then. Chase the chicken, Rock."


Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ioE_O7Lm0I4

After having escorted the elder Dox onboard and getting the news that she would, for the foreseeable future, be assigned to duty aboard the USS Hera, that meant that somewhere out there, Mnhei’sahe Dox was likely dealing with a lot of emotional baggage and some confrontation of facts that she’d rather not have to face. Her last encounter with her mother had been less than positive- it had, in fact, ended with a shouting match, which had both saddened and angered the old-school officer.

While her own father had proven time and again that there would never be any reconciliation in his lifetime, he had now been dead for over a hundred years, in a universe that no longer existed. So Rita wasn’t exactly waiting for him to change, even were he just a comm call away.

But Lieutenant Dox could still repair that relationship with her rigid and unyielding mother, who had lied to protect her daughter, not seeing that the lie was what drove them apart. At least, she could if her mother was willing, which had proven to not be the case thus far. While her own family life had always been miserable, Paris very much wanted to believe in the bonds of family.

In fact, she tended to forge one out of the materials at hand. Her husband was the greatest man she had ever known, who had crossed space and time to reunite with her; leaving behind his entire reality for her. Enalia Telvan was like the sister she had always wanted- brash and bold and a bit underhanded, yet she so desperately wanted to be on the side of the angels, to do good and be better.

Then there was Mnhei’sahe Dox.

When she had come aboard, the woman had been furtive, evasive, uncertain of herself and might have languished in obscurity save for the fact that Rita Paris saw a lot of herself in the young woman. She had taken a very specific interest, compounded when it was revealed that Dox was an amazingly intuitive pilot with skills light years beyond her peers. Dragging the anxious young woman out of her shell, bit by bit, they had grown close, naming one another as sisters, for the young Romulan woman was very much like Rita herself in so many ways, and the two had built a bond of trust that Rita treasured.

Ever since their most recent escapade, wherein a number of the senior staff had forged a group-mind mental link in order to reach out to the titan Gaia to convince her to stop terraforming planets and leave this reality peacefully, Dox had been distant. Part of Paris’ mental process was to imagine that perhaps she had seen something in the others that had caused the private Romulan to retreat. But she had given time and space on this one, giving the young woman who was terrified of mental intrusion her own space to process. Knowing that she would come to her First Officer if she needed help dealing with it, if she needed to talk, or if she just needed a friend.

With the addition of Jaeih Dox to the crew, Lieutenant Dox had been a bit stiff and formal, and again, Paris had given the woman her space. She had visited the elder Dox before bringing Mnhei’sahe to visit her when they were on Earth. While the meeting between herself and Mrs. Dox had gone well, it had been disastrous for Mnhei’sahe, ending with her leaving in tears. Which had raised considerable scorn in Rita, who had, in turn, shamed the older woman.

Which had produced its own results, as apparently, her single word shaming had been sufficient to convince Mrs. Dox that she was hated by the anachronistic astronaut, given her words and reactions since coming aboard.

For now, the primary concern of Commander Rita Paris was the welfare of one Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox. Given her distance of late, the anachronistic astronaut was torn between giving her space or meddling, but in the end, she had to follow her heart, as she always did. Which meant that it was time to hunt down the Chief Flight Control officer and have a conversation, if for no other reason than to just reassure the comely commander that the little lieutenant was all right. Which was what brought her to the flight control office on Deck 4 today.

“If the mountain will not come to Mohammed…” Paris muttered as she strode into the office.

Sitting at her desk in the Flight Control Office, the Lieutenant in question had her head buried in her desktop computer. There were a few PaDD's scattered about on her desk and a large cup of black, Romulan coffee sitting next to the model of the Refit U.S.S. Exeter that Rita had left there when she bequeathed the office to Dox.

Taking a good half a second to notice the opening door, Mnhei'sahe pulled her head up from her screen with a slightly startled expression. "Oh, Hello Commander. Can I help you?"

Sitting up at a casual attention, Mnhei'sahe Dox looked a little tired. A bit green around the eyes, with no makeup on and her curly auburn hair pulled back into a neat ponytail.

“Unofficial business, Miss Dox,” Paris said softly as she crossed the room to stand in front of the desk covered with work. Taking in the desk, the appearance and all of the factors involved, Paris chose her words carefully as she settled down into the seat opposite the Romulan rebel. When she spoke, her voice was neither sharp nor accusatory, but that of a concerned friend. “How about you tell me what’s going on, hmm?”

Settling back in her seat slightly, Dox let herself relax a little bit. To the casual observer, the difference might have been unnoticeable but the red-headed Romulan knew that Rita Paris could very likely read the change in her body language from space. But in this case, it was a genuine show of mild relief. "Do I look that bad? heh..."

“Not to the casual observer, but… you’ve been distant of late. I wanted to give you time to work things out on your own, but… I worry, too. So, unofficial check-up time.” Holding her hands up, Paris offered a small smile. “I’m just a little concerned… it’s been an eventful few days, even for us.”

The slight chuckle wasn't melancholy or tinged with depression, just a sense of mild emotional exhaustion. "Yeah. It was a long night and... a weirder morning. I spent most of the night trying to avoid thinking about my Mother living down the corridor from us and failed miserably. Mona helped, but you know how I can spiral in my thoughts. But I wanted to try and sleep on it and approach her fresh in the morning and hopefully with a clearer head and better perspective."

“So… how did that go?” Unconsciously the concerned chrononaut leaned in, her expression clearly betraying her trepidation about the situation.

"Actually... uh... kind of... good. I'm still trying to process everything, really. It was a lot to take in, but she actually opened up." Dox leaned back in her seat and ran a hand through her slightly bushy bangs. With an awkward chuckle, she continued. "I don't really know how to deal with that. With her actually telling me the real truth. But according to Mona, she didn't lie once. She broke down right in front of me and cried."

To which Dox rolled her eyes a little and smirked lightly. "Which, then I cried and it all snowballed from there." Sitting back up, she leaned forward on the desk as she continued. "She said she sent you a report on everything she didn't tell you and the captain during her interview?"

“She did, and I’ve read it. I… decided not to watch the sensor feeds from your conversation in the brig, or your conversation in her quarters,” the fulsome first officer admitted. “While it is a Security issue, it’s… personal. Family business. I didn’t want to intrude, and I’ve felt a bit of distance lately, so I wanted to give you your space, as it were. But all is well?”

"I don't know, honestly. I want to believe that she is sincere. I know she didn't directly lie, but I've let my guard down with her so many times before that I'm still scared." The conflicted young chief hung her head slightly. "And I'm already beating myself up for wanting to believe that this time will be different. But... is it stupid that I want it to be different, Rita? That I want to believe her this time?"

The expression on the face of the first officer spoke volumes as she glued her knees together and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “My father had me locked into an arranged marriage, disintegrated me, kidnapped me, tried to brainwash me, poisoned me and blocked my career advancement at every opportunity. He was stubborn, sexist, racist, and overall we can summarize by pointing out that he was a terrible parent.”

“But through all of that, I never stopped hoping that somehow he might actually become the hero he had raised me to believe he was. That he might see the light and maybe even be proud of me.” Shaking her head ruefully, Rita sighed. “It was never going to happen, of course. But I never lost that hope, Mnhei’sahe. As foolish and ill-advised and illogical as it was, I could never truly give up on him. He was my father, and I spent so much of my life trying to make him proud of me."

"Well, until I realized that was impossible… and then I learned to be proud of myself, because I should be,” Rita preened a bit comically.

“Point being, no, Miss Dox. I don’t think it’s foolish to want to believe that your mother may just have realized that the lies she told to protect you were only costing her the very daughter she was trying to protect,” Rita spoke with her hands, as she was wont to do. “Her deal with the Captain was a simple one- she didn’t ask for anything but that we keep you safe from the Tal-Shiar, which we were going to do anyway. I hesitate to interfere in your family business again, seeing how it worked out last time… but if she’s playing us, she is playing us all, including the captain. And frankly, I don’t that’s the case. At least, I’d like to believe that… and I most assuredly do not blame you for hoping this might be a genuine act of contrition on her part.”

Sitting back in her chair, Rita scissored her legs to cross them at the knee, an oddly demure maneuver for a Starfleet officer, but par for the course for the perennially miniskirted maiden. ”She spent sixteen years hiding you and teaching you to be self-sufficient, deadly and capable. No parent does that who isn’t afraid of what the universe will do to their child. I daresay she has been motivated by fear for a very long time, and it might be a much a relief for her as it is for you. I could be wrong, and I will admit it… but fool me, the captain and you too? No offense, but I just don’t think she’s that good.”

The red-headed Romulan listened and absorbed her friend and commanders words for a long moment without saying anything. She had a slightly concerned expression as she picked up on of the PaDDs. "Then... I guess it's one day at a time. I give her a chance and try not to get in my own way to create problems that aren't there."

“Trust is a very delicate thing, in my experience. And when it is abused, it tends to make one less and less willing to trust. But… if she’s genuine. If she is really making that effort… “ Paris paused, shaking her head. “I don’t want to make this worse than I already have. So I’m not going to offer any advice, beyond… trust yourself. Trust your instincts, your intuition, and follow your heart. If you end up being wrong, that’s on her. But if it is real and she’s genuinely trying to bridge the gap and move that mountain… you might owe it to yourself to give her that chance?”

Smiling slightly, Dox nodded a bit. "Thank you. I'm going to try. Ultimately, I want to try. It... it felt good to think that maybe I might have a Mother this morning when we talked. I... I want to hold on to at least that out of... well... everything else."

Changing the subject slightly, Mnhei'sahe held up the PaDD in her hand. "Which I guess leaves me worrying about what she actually said. I looked up everything we had on my so-called Grandmother and it said nothing useful. A Fleet Commander for seven years. Director of the Tal'Shiar for twenty years. A Senator now for nine. Almost no useful information meaning she probably did everything my Mother said and more if there are almost no records."

Handing the Padd to Rita, there was a picture of a cold-faced Romulan woman on it that looked for all the world like an older version of Mnhei'sahe herself. Older. A slight bit trimmer but still thickly built, with salt and pepper hair, pulled back into a knot. But the same basic face, clad in a black uniform with the trademark broad shoulder pads Romulans were known for. "Don't think I need any more genetic tests from Asa to confirm this one."

“Wow… yeah, it runs strong in your family. Maybe you could go back to the shorter cut to look a little less severe…” Paris remarked. “We really are the ‘USS Parental Issues’. Broken awful families produce great heroes, apparently. So how do you feel about all of these revelations? Pardon the comparison, but sounds like your Granny Goodness here could give my dear old dad a run for his money in the crappy parenting department.”

"I was thinking of letting my hair grow back out until I saw this. I don't think I can get an appointment with Sharonne fast enough, now." Dox chuckled slightly. "But yeah. Me, you, Asa, Mona, the Captain. It seems like this ship really does attract the broken toys. Maybe that's why Hera ended up here. We sure could use a patron saint."

"I almost feel numb about everything. A lot of it makes sense, really. I ended up being a little too good at Llaekh-ae'rl to believe an engineer trained me. Tal'Shiar enforcer... fits a lot of what I know about her. It... it scares me, honestly. How much of her... of both of them... is in me, ya' know?" Dox admitted, somewhat sheepishly.

“Ah ah ah, noooo, we’re not going there," Paris waved her finger back and forth. "Look- I know you. I daresay I might know you better than anyone on this boat save Mona. And I can say, with 100 percent certainty, that you are everything good in a Starfleet officer- honest, forthright, direct, brave, loyal, determined, and with a strength of character that will never, ever allow you to become what you came from. Who we come from does not define who we are- our choices define us. Your choices have defined you, and you didn’t run off to the Romulans, you ran off to join the fleet. That speaks volumes about you right there.”

“My question to you is, how much of who they were are you willing to become? Because that, Lieutenant, is the real answer, and the answer you will ask yourself when you find yourself at a crossroads. Me, I have confidence in your answer.” Paris spoke, as she always did, directly and from the heart, honest to a fault.

"None. I'm already uncomfortable with how much of that I see in myself. In my anger. In my... willingness to hurt people. I don't like these things about myself, Rita. And I'm working hard to be better then I was yesterday." This line of questions led Dox to a subject she knew was a source of concern for both Rita and herself. And a subject the young Lieutenant feared was steadily driving a wedge between the two women. "And I... I know this... Tribunal is challenging all of that. Opening up doors that are going to call to everything I've tried to get away from. But it's been a risk I've been willing to take because of the Captain... and Kodria up until now. But up until now, I've had the luxury of time. Maybe it's for the best that I've learned all of this... so it can remind me of what I could become if I'm not beyond focused on who I want to be."

At the mention of the Tribunal, Paris' eyebrows came up together at the center and rose, and she stood to pace, taking first one small step. "I feel... I fear... that in what's to come there may come a moment where a compromise of principle would be easier, more expedient." Taking a step, Paris began a short slow pace, walking through the dilemma facing her. "In that moment, I feel that it is most important to cleave to my principles... and to do so for you and the Captain as well. I know I am acting as a self-appointed conscience, but I feel I need to... which means serving as an example myself."

"I've already compromised the first principle because I agreed to support her. If I was not a hypocrite, I would have taken a stand and told her no, but... I can't." The lost navigator took odd pivots as she paced, as the Flight Control office was large enough to hold the entire department at assembly, yet only had to desks and a simulator, with a kitchenette and its own matter reclamator. "I agreed to all of this before you came aboard, and that complicated things. If it was just me risking my career, which, to be honest, the admiralty seems to get us out of just about anything, so even this I suspect, fully reported by me, she would brand as an 'anti-insurrection undercover operation' and pin a medal on me for it."

"But you..." Paris sighed and locked eyes with Dox, then began wagging her finger at the Romulan bird of prey. "You just... jumped at the chance, and I don't judge you negatively for it, I don't, I just worry. You know," Rita waved with an open hand in her direction and wobbled her head a bit. "Somehow though I am willing to take the risk, I am unwilling to let you risk your career. Or Thex. I probably won't be able to stop Doc..." The bombastic blonde took a deep breath and sighed heavily, a somewhat seismic action.

"I question if I should be trying to stop you." The gold-clad commander stopped, spreading her arms, palm up. "Am I standing for principle, or am I just being a stubborn old-fashioned hypocrite?"

"You're just trying to do what you always do. You protect us. Sometimes from ourselves. That's just who you are." Dox replied with a certainty in her voice. But that certainly drained away quickly afterwards.

"When it started... It seemed good. The Captain just asked me to fly her to that auction. We took Baroness von Alcott's ship and it was Romulan. I was a pilot that knew the language and the tech. It made sense." Dox replied, thinking through everything that led them to where they were now. "She... It was the first time we ever really talked and she told me she knew my Mother. That they worked together back in the day. That... she had arranged for her to be moved to where we could talk. The Captain wanted to help me reconnect and I had been so... alone.. for so long. I jumped at the opportunity."

Leaning forward, Mnhei'sahe leaned over her desk and rested her head on her hands. "That's where she gave me the ID. Made me a Baroness. Where this all started. And when the tribunal became a reality, and the Captain explained why it was happening, and that if I chose to, that appointment would be made real so I could help, I didn't even consider saying no. Her mother wanted to... to take her DNA. Make a child from her against her will. It was a violation. And... after everything that has been done to me, I didn't even... I had to do whatever I could. How could I not?"

"Then... step by step... It kept getting deeper. The ship and the training. The vote. What Kodira said. My mother." Dox was trembling slightly.

The anxious young Romulan shut her eyes tight for a second. "I still need to help. I promised I would because I believed it was right. I still do. But I'm terrified of what it may cost me. Not just my career... But the friendships that... that I don't know how to live without. Asa. You. Friendships that already feel like they're slipping away."

Stepping around the chair, Rita Paris settled back into her seat. "I'm not going anywhere. I gave you some room after that whole mind meld. I'm used to it, Sonak acted as a bit of a switchboard, but I knew you'd had a lot of... anxiety over telepathic issues. Afterward, you seemed to need some space, and I knew Mona was watching out for you, so I took a light hand and gave you room to figure things out on your own. With the Tribunal... you do raise a point."

Before speaking, Paris chose her words carefully, frowning in concentration. "I was an accident- I couldn't have been planned for because I was a random act of the universe. Unless... she knew the coordinates, knew when I'd be there and knew the Section 31 transporter could reassemble me. But that's... farfetched. You, on the other hand... if she arranged for you to be here that means she's been keeping tabs on you for a very long time. This is a very long game the Captain's been playing."

"She's been to the past. This ship has had a lot of interaction with time," Paris was on to something, but she paused on another point. "Kodria... what exactly did she tell you?"

It wasn't a hard day for the anxious aviatrix to remember. Her newly restored Romulan hormones were running hot, and it was the first time that Mona expressed that she knew about Dox's attraction to her. It was a frustrating, intoxicating day that was fairly well burned in Dox's memory. It was also the first time she had really talked with the young Android from the future that called both women in the room 'aunt'.

"She said... hold on." As Dox struggled to remember Kodira's exact words, she realized she didn't need to. "Our conversation was in the Unlucky Lady. It wasn't much but..."

Tapping out instructions, she pulled up the flight recording logs from the day in question and there on her computer screen appeared the memory, preserved holographically. In spite of herself, Mnhei'sahe found her heart swell up at the sight of the young Android that had endeared herself so strongly to so many in such a short time.

Scrolling through the archive, she stopped it at the right moment and hit play. In the Flight Control office, Kodira's voice echoed as Dox moved the file to the rooms holoprojector in the center of the room for Rita to see. "Yeah... Aunt Rita and Maica and mom... They all taught me wonderful things, but most of it was safe. You and the pirates took me to bars and we talked about love and personal stuff so... I think I might be more relaxed around you. If there's anything I can do to help you, I'd like to."

Pausing the recording there, Dox stood up and walked over to stand in front of the projection. "At the time, I felt good. Knowing that I had some kind of positive impact on her, ya' know. She was... She's something special."

"Yes... she will be," Rita replied.

Turning back, the young Romulan's eyes shined with restrained tears. Tears even Dox were uncertain were for the happy memory or her uncertain fate. "Me and the Pirates, she said. In another conversation... in my quarters when I was recovering from my little spacewalk, she called me one of the Captains that helped raise her."

Reaching her hand up to almost touch the face of the projection, Dox's voice sunk a bit. "Whatever is going to happen, I'm... I'm still a goddamn pirate in a hundred years."

At that, the brow of Rita Paris furrowed. "At what point did she specifically tell you that you were not a Starfleet captain in the future, Miss Dox?"

As the anxiety-riddled lieutenant opened her mouth to reply, she froze on Rita's words for the moment. For a few seconds, a string of protests could be seen running across Dox's face and just as clearly, Rita could see those protests being shot down internally by the simple logic of her question.

After a few seconds, Dox's face scrunched as the implications of Rita's question exploded across her mind. "She... She didn't. She said I was... How did she say it... She called me 'one of her captains.' And she said I was still with the pirates. But she didn't say how. I just made the worst possible assumption and let it fester."

"Captain Dox... I have every confidence that if you live for the next 90 years, Miss Dox, that if you remain in good standing then you will certainly command in Starfleet. I have put considerable time and effort into preparing you for just such an eventuality, and I have the utmost confidence in your ability. And if you choose not to join the Admiralty, it will likely be because you have chosen to retire from Starfleet as a captain."

"Should you enter service with the pirates afterward... Captain Magnus won't be around forever, and it sounds suspiciously like the Captain has been grooming you for purposes of her own for quite some time. Speculation," Paris held up a finger, her body language an imitation of that of her logical husband.

"But speculation and prognostication based on current data would strongly suggest these as possibilities. By the time Kodria opens her eyes in 84 years, I expect to have advanced through the Admiralty, if, in this enlightened age, I have not become Fleet Commander myself." It was a boldly ambitious statement for the girl anachronism to make, but Rita Paris believed in Sonak, Starfleet and herself, in that order. According to Kodria, all three would still be present a century from now, which meant in her own mind, Rita Paris also had plans.

For now, she focused on her troubled friend's future dilemma.

"So assuming that because you and the pirates show her things, that does not make you a pirate. If you choose to retire from Starfleet and join them, that could still be another 50 years of Starfleet service. Additionally? I am living proof that the future is not set in stone, Miss Dox. So taking an offhand statement and viewing it as a dire prediction from a time traveler from an alternate future that we are actively seeking to change is mayyyybe not the best plan?" Rita smiled a bit at that, hoping she was getting through and that Dox could see the logic.

The anxiety that swirled in the pit of Dox's stomach released enough to allow a slightly gravely laugh to slip out at Rita's last statement. "Yeah. Not my best train of thought. You're right... I don't really know anything. At least not from what Kodria said. Just ideas, really."

In the moment, Dox decided it was probably best to not mention that her other friend, Death herself, got a little drunk one night and let slip that Dox would live well over two hundred and eventually have eight grandchildren. THAT information was also open to interpretation and no more set in stone than anything else, after all. Of course, the pale woman also warned the young Lieutenant to not speak with hate in her heart to her Mother, hinting that the Elder Dox might not have long for this universe. It was a thought she actively pushed out of her mind. The future was not written, even for Death who only knew what was scheduled to happen.

Instead, Dox put all that aside and thought long and hard on Rita's words for a long moment of silence that hung in the room, not with foreboding or tension, but with thoughtfulness. "I'm... sorry, Rita. I should have said something sooner. Told you how I was feeling about all of this. It's just been... difficult... since the mind meld for me."

She looked over at her friend with a melancholy expression. "As much as I wanted that door in my mind closed, I didn't quite realize what having it open did for me. I think it opened me up a little bit. Made me feel more... connected to everyone, if that makes sense. And when it was shut down... it left me feeling very alone. Isolated. And I couldn't help but be afraid that when we were all connected, that you and Asa looked into my mind and... didn't like what you saw and pulled away. It... scared me. I'm sorry. I should have trusted you... I was just... scared."

There was a moment of silence where the experienced executive officer just smiled, as she considered her words. “You are allowed to have doubts. And I should have realized it was more traumatic for you, and reached out. But you have nothing to apologize for, Mnhei’sahe.”

Leaning in, Rita Paris smiled, a warm, genial smile that Mnhei’sahe Dox knew well, for it was a smile not meant to impress or dazzle or disarm- it was a smile of genuine affection. “For what it’s worth, there will always be a little more of me inside of you now, and I will always carry a piece of you now within me. That’s the way the mind meld works. So when you have those self-doubts and you have fears that raise their heads, you can literally ask yourself what Rita would do or what Rita thinks of it… and there will always be a feeling inside you that knows the answer. How about that?”

Nodding slightly, a smile crept across Mnhei'sahe's chubby cheeks. "That sounds good."

During the mind meld, she had a clear vision of the energies of the others involved. Everyone, she found, radiated a color of light within them. Her own was a deep red glow. Mona's was a brilliant blue. Sonak gave off a copper glow and Asa's was a magnificent, pearlescent lavender. But Rita was so perfectly Rita as the light Dox had seen in her mind's eye was a spectacular gold.

With time and practice, the young Romulan was learning to find that energy again. She could connect to Mona, but she knew that what Rita was saying was true. That there was a piece of her energy left behind and it would always be there to help her. Just like the woman herself.

Leaning across her desk to the model of the Exeter upon it, Dox grinned. "You hear that? I don't have to keep asking you what she'd do."

“But as long as she’s around, you can," Paris laughed, not knowing that the model she had left behind that had remained on the desk of the chief helmsman had served such a purpose. "Always. And she’ll be here for you as much as she’s able. We’re friends, shipmates, and you are a part of the chain of command. There’s no part of that which doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t move heaven and earth for you, Miss Dox."

"I don’t know if this is clear, but I’ll state it for the record. We’re Starfleet - that means we’re here for one another. Now, my question still stands… am I being obstinate about this? Should I be more flexible when it comes to all of this piracy? I would appreciate your input,” Paris concluded, as she was still not entirely certain of her own course.

"I've... not felt comfortable talking with you about anything having to do with it. You react... harshly... to the subject." Dox admitted, somewhat hesitantly. "Which, unfortunately, means I've not felt comfortable even discussing my concerns. I understand your issues and I agree with them. But I... don't know how to proceed if I'm afraid to express them."

"But on the same note, I think it's important that you remain strong in your convictions. I know the Captain will need that... and I know I need it." Dox continued, getting a bit more confidence back.

"So... yes. I... I do think you're being obstinate. But I don't think the answer is flexibility. At least not like a pirate. We can't win this by being better pirates than pirates. That costs us our souls. And we can't hold so rigid to the rules of Starfleet that we and the Captain die on principle."

The anxious Lieutenant was thinking as she spoke now as she looked over at Rita. Specifically at her uniform from another era. "This is how we win." she said with a slight smile.

"Not as pirates... what did they call it? As Cowboys? Cowboy flexibility. We bend the rules, but we do it our way. The Starfleet way. YOUR Starfleet." Dox pointed to Rita's badge, a reflection of the Era from which she hailed. The era of cowboy diplomacy on the edge of the final frontier. The era that produced Kirks and Paris'.

“Fair point. I’m… a bit defensive of you, Miss Dox. I admit it,” Rita say back with a sigh. “And I will take your word for it that I have responded harshly, which isn’t helping- that's on me, and I should have realized what effect it was having. But we’re in it now, so many of us, and… yes. Cowboy diplomacy might just win the day. I would prefer that we win by being smarter, more committed to one another as a crew, and unwilling to stoop to dirty tricks to win. Which, of course, I have an idea or two, which we’ll discuss.”

“In the meanwhile, please… you can discuss this with me. We have to be able to communicate, because as individual islands we will be lost, separately. But together…” Paris spread her hands with a smile, “we can win this. We are going to win it, and I will find a way to make it all work without compromising the principles of Starfleet, while still satisfying whatever counts as the pirate’s code, or guideline, or whatever it is they call their own code of honor.”

Smiling, Dox nodded. "Like you say. We're Starfleet. Together we can do anything."

The distance she had been feeling from Rita had been extremely painful to the emotional young Romulan. As a Commander, Rita Paris represented everything Mnhei'sahe Dox strived to be. But she had become more than a friend to Dox.

Smiling, Mnhei'sahe Dox felt happy to know that her sister was still there for her... and had never left.

In the spacious and well-appointed VIP quarters of the U.S.S. Hera that she now called home, Jaeih Dox stood in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting the dark grey tunic of her uniform. When she was transferred from custody from Starfleet Intelligence to the massive nebula class vessel, the elder Dox had very few personal effects and even fewer clothes that weren't uniforms.

As such, she sighed slightly, as dinner tonight would be in uniform for the former smuggler. The day had been long and uncomfortable as she did not yet have any work to occupy her time. So she spent much of the time thinking about everything she had told her daughter, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox earlier that morning. The painful secrets and regrets she chose to reveal, knowing it too was the only way she had left to save that damaged relationship.

Taking a calming breath, Jaeih walked over to the door as it hissed open. Stepping out, she addressed the two enormous female security guards assigned to her for the day. "Ladies... It is time for my dinner appointment. If you will, please escort me to my destination. Thank you."

While Jaeih's guards were escorting her to her destination, Mona was busy cooking dinner - one of her specialty vegetarian egg dishes with sweet peppers, cheese, tofu, and tomatoes wrapped up in a thin tortilla with a side of Miradonian egg drop soup. Her bond-mate was going to be late because of work so she placed the wraps inside the warmer and settled the soup pot onto the heater in the center of the table. She then busied herself setting the table, looking all cute in her yellow chicks apron and some semi-casual loose clothing.

Just as she finished setting the table and was looking through a few PaDDs of data she wanted to talk about with her new mother-in-law, the door chime went off. "Come in, it's open."

Stepping in, Jaeih turned to her guards and nodded respectfully as they took up stations outside the door. "Thank you, ladies."

It was said respectfully, though the lean built, older Romulan woman did think it was slightly ridiculous to be escorted the moderately short distance down the corridor on the same deck.

Stepping inside only a meter or so, the elder Dox stood with her hands behind her back as she took in the room. "Good evening Miss.... Mona..." She said somewhat awkwardly, not quite knowing how to behave around her newly discovered Daughter-in-law.

"Is there anything you require... any assistance with?" Jaeih asked as she continued to scan her surroundings. The room was warm and colorful. Far more a home than she imagined it would be if it had just been her somewhat more Spartan daughter.

There were a few large bean bags near the plush couch. A series of shelves near the door were decorated with a collection of photographs of members of her daughter's crew and two of herself. A holographic parrot sat on one end table. Purple, blue, and yellow drapes decorated the windows, and similarly, colored throw pillows were scattered about the chairs and couch, which seemed to have been somewhat modified for those with tail feathers and large booty.

Looking up from her current PaDD, Mona smiled politely. "No, dinner is ready. Minay got held up at work and will be a bit late, so it'll just be us for a little bit. Do you want to just... Talk?" Her eyebrows raised at the end, not sure how the elder Romulan woman would take that, but she did hope to build a bit of a bond with her.

Their first conversation via hologram had been a disaster, but Jaeih had been trying to be more open and less defensively manipulative now that all her secrets were finally laid bare. She wanted a relationship with her estranged daughter. And that meant finding at least a common comfort around her daughter's bond-mate.

"That... yes. We can certainly do that." Jaeih was still guarded, but it was clearly due to her own anxiety now as she stood there awkwardly.

Mona stood there for a moment before she broke out laughing, tucking the three PaDDs she held into a pocket of her apron. "I see where your daughter gets her anxiety from at least. Go sit down and I'll get us a couple of drinks. Is there anything you prefer? We have fresh tea, lemonade, paya juice, and Romulan coffee, but I can open a bottle of either Andorian or Romulan ale as well."

"Coffee will be fine. Black, if Mnhei'sahe has any Romulan brews programmed, please." Jaeih replied allowing the slightest hint of a smile to crack her facade as she found a seat at the couch. The comment about anxiety was actually comforting to hear for the Romulan mother as it showed that Mona clearly understood Mnhei'sahe.

"What is it you would like to discuss?" Jaeih asked, curious as to what the tone of the evening would be.

Pouring a cup of coffee from the small coffee maker full of Romulan coffee, she poured herself a glass of iced tea and headed into the living room out of the kitchenette, handing off the hot mug to Jaeih before sitting down. "Well... We could just talk and get to know each other... Gossip about Minay... Go over that cloak I mentioned... As our guest, it's up to you, really."

While the engineer in her was curious to discuss whatever Mona knew about cloaking technology, her head was still focused on her own attempts to rectify her parental mistakes. After a brief pause to take a sip of her Coffee, Jaeih replied. "She seems... genuinely happy when she's with you. The tension she carries in her body releases a little, I've noticed. I'm... very glad for this."

"You're a pilot as well. You met on the job?" The curious mother asked.

Mona sipped at her tea and set it aside before replying. "That's actually a funny story. I had been the Flight control Chief for years before the Captain brought her on board. But as per my agreement with Captain Telvan, the first pilot I felt could come close to my standards got the job and I got to focus more on improving how we fly."

"As her assistant chief... I wasn't sure at first, but then when her genes where fixed and her hormones went crazy..." Mona looked down at her hands in her lap and smiled like everything was right in the world. "My people mate for life and I knew she was the one." She then looked up at the elder Dox, still smiling. "The hard part was convincing her of it."

"I... Had not considered." Jaeih's eyes went wide for a moment. "Due to her repressed genes, her actual puberty was... mild to say the least. I didn't think about what that must've been like for her to go through for the first time in her thirties." The nervous mother had a slightly embarrassed look on her face as she took another sip of coffee.

" Though... I suppose I must shoulder my share of responsibility for your efforts to connect with her." Jaeih's tone shifted down slightly. "It was... safer for her that she learn how to be distant. Emotionally unattached. And I taught those lessons far too well, it seems."

"Well, here on the Hera, we're all one big family, like it or not." The brightly plumed Miradonian chuckled softly. "You either come out of your box, or end up transferring off with PTSD because of our missions. Besides, our new first officer took a liking to her and once that woman has her eye on you, you're getting some of that human mentoring and talking all the time."

"Commander Paris, yes. I know she is extremely important to Mnhei'sahe. Though I've burned that bridge quite firmly, I'm afraid." Jaeih lamented slightly before trying to change the subject. "You said your focus was on... improving how we fly?"

Mona then pulled out one of the PADDs in her apron excitedly and tapped at it to bring up a schematic of the Thunderchicken before handing it to Jaeih. "Yes! On one of our recent missions, we were able to obtain three Scorpion fighters and after rebuilding them with Starfleet tech, I started work on a fourth variable mode fighter. It works, though there are still some issues to work out."

The engineer in the elder Romulan was pulled in by Mona's excitement as she leaned forward with an eyebrow arched. "Variable mode? What do you mean?"

Mona tapped a set of mode shift buttons in the upper right and the PaDD went through the animations of transformation from fighter to walker to robot mode in sequence. "I mean it can transform while keeping the pilot inside the cockpit."

Looking intensely at the PaDD, Mona could see the wheels in Jaeih's head turning as she was clearly fascinated with this as she actually let out a harsh laugh. "Ha! I used to know three different engineers on Romulus that would kill to see how you did this. How far have you gotten? How did you circumvent the torque stress on the joints while converting? How much power does that conversion eat?"

While she had become an enforcer for the Tal'Shiar, Jaeih was an engineer at heart and was legitimately fascinated.

"We have a working prototype on the main hanger deck that can actually function in the fighter and walker modes without any trouble. Until the neural interface is done, the robot mode is locked though." Mona then tapped at the screen to pull up the SIF systems and reinforcements from the deflector shields. "The joint buffers constantly and variably reinforce every joint as needed with the structural integrity and deflector systems. The power systems are boosted a bit to compensate and when transformed the weapons systems are mostly limited to self-contained weaponry because of this, but so far stress testing has shown that even in urban settings, running it into a building isn't the end of it. Running it into two buildings... Might want to avoid that..."

"This is fascinating. You're using shielding to reinforce the structural integrity? That should, in theory, extend the life of the hard mechanics by at least..." The engrossed woman was clearly doing math in her head at a quick rate. "I would say an extension of forty to sixty percent? YOu'll need multiple, independent power generators to compensate for any system-wide power loss to maintain those fields, but... yes... it looks like you've compensated for that here."

Mona tapped another control, showing where her pride and joy was located. "This is where that little hybrid stealth tech gem slots in. It uses twenty-three percent of the power of the original cloaks used in the Scorpion fighters and uses a Miradonian Boson field to generate the cloaking effect."

"Twenty three?" Jaeih looked stunned. "With that level of power retention, this should be able to actually fire energy weapons while cloaked! At least minimally."

"My simulations estimate that I could do a full alpha strike if I wanted. I've used every trick in the book we have to try and detect it, including poking it with a stick and it works as well as any Miradonian stealth generator, but with the added bonus effects of a Romulan cloak." Mona had moved closer to Jaeih and was now speaking excitedly, pointing out the various parts of the system. It was rare that she got to talk with someone so well versed in things like this other than Dedjoy, after all.

"The internal holographic cockpit turned out to be a good idea since marrying the two techs together made the cloak visually two way. The sensors can see out just fine, but from the inside, it just looks like you're inside a big dark bubble. Not a problem for a Miradonian, but an issue for most other races." The brightly plumed aviatrix pulled out another PaDD and pulled up the cockpit schematics to show off the unique flight systems in it, including the full holographic canopy that extended around the seat.

"So the cloak extends inside? That's astounding. This cockpit holography an ingenious way around that. And frankly, this holographic interior cockpit wrap around would, on its own, be a tremendous advantage for pilots, I'd imagine. Being able to, for all intents and purposes, fly as if the ship wasn't there visually in your way." Jaeih was legitimately excited as well. "Mnhei'sahe will love this, I'm sure."

"Oh, she does. And that's not all. I've added hardpoints and integration for our armor suits so we have full HUD use as well." Mona was grinning wider now. "Every readout is fed to the suit through a protected circuit so you can aim, see sensor readouts, use every console... Right on the screen of your helmet."

Looking up from the screen of the PaDD at Mona as she continued to show the various features, Jaeih was taken aback slightly by the colorfully plumed Miradonian. Her intelligence seemed dwarfed only by her passion and heart. She now felt ashamed of herself and of her behavior upon their first meeting. And she found herself distracted from the topic at hand as a result.

"You... said that your people mated for life?" Jaeih said with a melancholy in her voice that was all too familiar to Mona Gonadie as it reflected the sadness so often heard in Mnhei'sahe's voice when she was at her lowest points. "I am glad for this. For your place in her life."

"Thank you," Mona said, starting up another thought path that was at first bright and cheery, but then a bit sad, both showing on her face. "I just wish my life expectancy was a bit longer so I could stay with her through more of hers. But that just means we have to make the best of the time we have, right? Fill in each other with as much love and happiness so that when the sad times come, they're not so hard."

The Elder Romulan woman, by human standards, looked to be maybe in her mid-fifties at the most. But, in fact, she was just shy of turning seventy-five. Mnhei'sahe herself was thirty-one and would likely look like a woman in her thirties for another couple of decades. The average Romulan life expectancy was approximately two hundred and fifty years. Jaeih had no idea until this moment what that meant for her daughters love but it was suddenly central in her mind. "What... does that mean? I apologize for not quite knowing the specifics of your people's biology. How... long?"

It was an awkward question, but Jaeih was genuinely concerned now and wasn't the best at expressing such feelings. She found herself becoming quite fond of her new daughter-in-law, in spite of herself.

"The oldest of my people live to eighty or ninety cycles," Mona replied, tapping at one of the PaDDs absently. "I'm currently thirty-five..."

"Then... it is as you said. Make the most of your time now." Jaeih said with a slight smile that betrayed her actually feeling upset for what she was feeling from Mona. Empathy wasn't a skill she was well versed in, however, and she didn't quite know how to process it.

"You described being bond-mated as analogous to marriage. But as you speak now, and as I watched you together, I am feeling that this comparison is not completely accurate. That the term doesn't exactly encapsulate what you two seem to share." Jaeih brought the conversation back around, and the trained Tal'Shiar agent began processing her observations of the conversation from earlier that very morning. "The way you touched each other... certain expressions shared too closely. Your physical reactions to her emotional states happened before you even looked at her face."

"Because bonding shares an empathic component to it. Some races like Romulans and Vulcans are receptive to the bonding, though it rarely happens." Mona smiled and searched Jaeih's eyes. "Our touch telepathy is normally with family we're close with so finally getting to experience that..."

"So this bond is... literal." Jaeih's expression was a strange mix of amazement and happiness only barely contained. She shook her head, not quite knowing how to process the information. "Touch telepathy? And Mnhei'sahe can... this bond goes both ways? She can feel you too?"

"She can. She describes the feeling as colors." Mona leaned into her mother-in-law a bit, thrumming just the slightest bit as she did so. "It would be nice if we could extend that to you someday, if you're willing."

The lifetime of training to repress her feelings came rushing back to the front of her mind as a defense mechanism that made her want to pull away. The feeling showed as a slight flinch with a look of panic in her eyes. But she struggled to push that back as best as possible as she could feel Mona's thrumming across the distance between them subtly.

"S... Someday, possibly." The elder Romulan replied with fear in her voice. It had taken her a lifetime to just be truthful with her daughter about her fears and she wasn't quite ready to try and open herself up on the level Mona was proposing. "For now... one... One day at a time, I think."

"One day at a time then," replied the brightly plumed aviatrix, smiling pleasantly.

It was at that exact moment that the door to the quarters hissed open as Mnhei'sahe Dox stepped in, her head momentarily buried in the PaDD in her hands as she was still focusing on work as she muttered to herself in her native Rihan. "Dammit, is this so damn hard, Paulson? It's a maintenance report, not a warp theory thesis."

As she stepped in, she realized that Mona and her Mother were clearly in the middle of an emotional conversation and she remembered their dinner plans that had momentarily slipped her mind thanks to work drama. "Mother. Good evening, Mother."

Resetting her head, she tossed the PaDD on the shelf by the door and let out a slightly exasperated sigh and smiled. "I'm sorry. Work was a bit difficult today." Then she walked over, putting her hand in Mona's and pressing her forehead against that if her bond mate for a moment before sharing a kiss.

It was ever so slightly awkward for Jaeih who sat back slightly. "Mona informed me you would be delayed due to work, which I understand. I take it this... 'Paulson' has been performing unsatisfactorily?"

Mona rolled her eyes at the mention of Paulson. "He's an overachieving, ass-kissing, douche on a scale that could clean a gekli's... Ahem... I'm sorry you have to deal with him, Minay. Hopefully he hasn't overcomplicated things too badly again. At least not like the time he decided to start writing his reports in Vulcan to try to get on your good side before he found out you were Romulan."

"And he calls MacNielle a brown noser. Yeah, nothing that obnoxious. He just forgets half the items on his checklist. Can you start cloning me a bunch of O'Dell's?" Dox replied with a chuckle.

Pondering the situation, Jaeih decided to chime in with a smirk that Mona noticed was remarkably similar to the one Mnhei'sahe frequently had on her face. "Was his Vulcan at least passable, Mnhei'sahe?"

Letting out a little laugh, the younger Dox replied. "Not even a little. Instead of 'runabout', he kept writing what amounts to 'diarrhea' and literally added a thousand to every number."

Changing the subject slightly, Mnhei'sahe loosened the collar of her uniform and flumped next to Mona. "Whatever you made smells fantastic, Jhu Dhael."

As she snuggled up with her love, Mona described dinner for them. "I made some of my special vegetarian egg wraps and a pot of egg drop soup like I had in the foster home. I think both of you will like it. The only thing I had to replicate was the water this time. I was able to get all the ingredients I needed from Maica."

"Well, it smells amazing. I hope I didn't keep you too long but I'm guessing you had plenty to talk about?" Mnhei'sahe replied with a smirk, knowing full well she was very likely the topic for a good bit of their conversation.

Sitting across from the pair, Jaeih looked fairly awkward but it gave her immense pleasure to see her daughter so happy. "As I'm sure you can surmise, you were definitely a topic, but we also discussed Mona's work with the Scorpions you procured and the... transforming fighter which looks quite impressive."

"It's nice talking with another inventor." Mona stood up and headed towards the kitchenette to make ready the final preparations before dinner. "Would you like to relax with a drink before dinner first? I have some Romulan coffee brewed and ready, if you'd like."

"Oh, that sounds lovely. Thank you." Mnhei'sahe replied with a warm smile before sitting back up more straight on the couch. "So, all is well? Have you seen much else of the ship yet, Mother?"

"No, not.yet. I've been settling in to my quarters and tried to familiarize myself with the various decks and systems on the ship as best as my access would allow. I've not yet been briefed on what tasks will be asked of me asof yet, but wish to be prepared to the best of my ability. I will say that the amenities dwarf those that were available at Starfleet Intelligence."

"I don't yet know what clearances I will have, but I do hope to see engineering and the flight deck eventually." The Romulan engineer said, expanding on her thoughts as Mona returned with Mnhei'sahe's coffee.

"SH5, just one step under our own clearances," Mona offered as she slipped back in the seat with her love. "Basically free reign over everything but the pod as long as you're escorted. I looked it up at work today to make sure I can share all the tech data I just showed you."

Her eyebrows raised slightly with legitimate anticipation. "Then I have... much to look forward to then. I hope that my knowledge and skills can be put to productive use here. While my classification is that of a consultant, in my heart I have always been an engineer. So, please know that you have free reign of whatever use you may need of me Mona, within the permissions of your Captain, of course."

While she initially approached Mona Gonadie with trepidation and suspicion, the brilliantly plumed Miradonian's natural warmth and open affections were infectious and Jaeih completely understood Mona and Mnhei'sahe's connection and it gave her an unexpected level of emotional comfort. Mona had walked past Jaeih's emotional defenses as if they barely existed and the normally suspicious Romulan woman was glad for it.

The elder Romulan took a sip of her own coffee, looking with a somewhat conspiratorial aire at the pair, Jaeih slyly slipped in a comment. "So, in our first, admittedly ill-fated conversation, you mentioned that a ceremony might be down the line? Is there a traditional Miradonian ceremony or would I be hoping too much for a Rihannsu ceremony?"

"Actually, I was hoping we could do a bit of both. The ceremonies between our two peoples are pretty compatible, both being based around birds." Mona sipped at her tea, also eyeing the elder Dox with a glint in her eye. "What I'm interested in though is offspring. Someone doesn't think she'd be a good mother."

At which Mnhei'sahe's eyes went wide and she almost spit out her coffee. "MONA!!! Hwiiy Kreldanni nohtho!"

"Really, Mnhei'sahe. I may have taught you how to curse, but you don't have to talk like a freighter pilot. OR call my daughter-in-law insane. It's rude." Jaeih had a smirk on her face as she replied, picking up on Mona's intention here and rather immediately decided she was on board. "Besides, you have a sterling example of exactly what not to do. You would be a wonderful mother."

"See there? I told you." Mona nudged in closer to try to help prove her point. "And I am insane... For you. And I want you to not be lonely once I'm gone and that means having children. It doesn't have to be now, but I'm not getting any younger."

"I'm... basically a child myself. I mean... I just figured out a loose life plan. And really, I'm a basket case. I don't... I couldn't... MOTHER, you're not helping here. What, don't tell me you suddenly want to be a grandmother?" Mnhei'sahe replied, flustered at being double-teamed.

"I can certainly see the appeal of the title. 'Hu'nanov Jaeih.' Yes, I could get used to that. Tell me, Mona. What's the Miradonian word for grandmother? I want to know what sounds better on me." Jaeih replied with a bit of innocent but smug satisfaction, enjoying the moment.

"Mother is Nona and grandmother is Nonala." Mona shrugged and sipped at her tea again. "Parts of Sirolon Miradonian are a bit simple, but it's pronounceable by other races. We tend to sing in Brokawk though, which is much more traditional."

"So I have options, then. 'Nonala Jaeih'." Jaeih sipped her coffee with a light smile."But in all seriousness... how you choose to advance is, of course, up to you. But I am confident that both of you have a tremendous amount to give to a child."

"Children, mother. Miradonian's have about four at a time." Mnhei'sahe added, somewhat deadpan.

Now it was Jaeih's turn to be surprised. "Well... that is... a factor. Still, I believe you would both be excellent mother's. Regardless of your own self-doubt, Mnhei'sahe."

"But... perhaps this is a topic best discussed over dinner, yes?" The elder Romulan added, changing the subject slightly.

"It is about time we ate, isn't it? Will Commander Paris be joining us tonight? Or is she otherwise engaged?" Mona inquired as she rose, pulling her Minay with her.

"Her schedule tonight was five times tighter than mine, so she had to pass, I'm afraid." Mnhei'sahe replied as she nuzzled up against Mona. She knew how important the subject of children was to the Miradonian bond-mate, but she herself was still terrified.

Of course, since they were touching, Mnhei'sahe knew that she was projecting all of this internal debating rather directly to Mona through their shared bond that was gaining strength every day.

And while she had no idea she was mirroring her mother's own words from that same night, she whispered to her love. "I'll... I'll get there, Jhu Dhael. One day at a time... I'll get there."

There was a twinkle in her eye as Mona slowly glanced over at Jaeih, then looked deep into her lover's eyes with love and affection overflowing from them. "One day at a time it is then. We'll all get there."

On the Upper Flight Deck of Deck three, Ensign Briaar Gavarus found herself lying on her back on an anti-grav work platform, hovering a meter below the open undercarriage of the experimental Variable Mode Flight Mech known among the R&D crew as the 'Thunderchicken'.

The brainchild of Ensign Mona Gonadie, Commander Rita Paris and Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox, the Thunderchicken stood it what was called 'gerwalk' mode. The cockpit of the modified Romulan Scorpion was horizontal, but the wings and landing struts were in their converted modes of semi-humanoid arms and legs. A couple of days earlier, the R&D team used the Flight Departments simulators to put a holographic replica of the real Thunderchicken through an extensive series of intense stress tests along with a test of an experimental neural interface link that allowed it's test pilot, the diminutive Mariposian red-head, Ensign Fiona "Leprechaun" O'Dell, to control the mech with her mind.

The test revealed a multitude of problems that would need to be addressed in the Thunderchicken itself, and pushed O'Dell almost past the limits of her own stamina. As such, O'Dell had spent the morning working out to increase her stamina to make flying the rig easier over time. And now, the two were hard at work updating the Thunderchicken, starting with the adjustment of a new cross-variable internal shield buffering system designed to use shaped force fields to reinforce poly-mimetic gell shock absorbers in the joints of the mechs limbs.

"Oh, what fresh hell is this?! The existing wiring for the power converters is using a modified surge protector that apparently isn't compatible with the new buffer system." Gavarus grumbled, laying on her back to her tiny partner-in-crime sitting to the side by the mechs feet near the workbench.

"Fee... I need that damn circuit splitter again. Goddamn, frickin' outmoded circuitry. I think I need to gut this whole damn thing and rewire it if this doesn't work."

“I dinna think Chief Gonadie would object. Apparently the only thing she was willing ta work with was the hull, and she tore out joost aboot everything else, so if that’s yuir call, I’m pretty sure she’ll back it,” O’Dell chirped as she fetched the splitter in question, then knelt patiently beside the mech until the engineer’s large three-fingered hand extended for the tool, in which case, like a surgical nurse, the tiny test pilot slapped it into the engineer’s palm, ready for use.

“I was serious about those mimetic panels, too. Ye think we might be able to engineer ‘em withoot changing too many of the basic shapes and ruinin’ her atmospheric aerodynamics?” While she was no engineer by a long chalk, O’Dell had been invited to participate in the development of the craft, and had grown comfortable offering her input, particularly with Gavarus, who was never dismissive of her ideas.

"Absolutely. I've run a few aerodynamic sims with three different materials that have the properties you proposed and the numbers look great. It's in my proposal and Gonadie seems excited." Gavarus replied fairly straightforward. Her usual sarcasm was conspicuously absent when her head was in her work.

At least when it came to working with O'Dell, whom Briaar thought had a natural head for engineering. Something that made her the perfect test pilot, in the gruff Tellarite's estimation. The pair ragged on each other all the time, but O'Dell was smart and intuitive and Gavarus had no qualms letting anyone who didnt see that know it in no uncertain terms.

"Yessss... that worked." Gavarus raised a tricorder to the connection. "Yeah. Powerflow is back to optimal levels and holding."

Pressing a button on the side of the hovering platform caused it to lower to the ground as Gavarus stood back up with a slight groan. The porcine engineer was every bit of two meters tall with a prodigious belly characteristic of the race and getting up off the floor always came with a mild protest.

“Ye need help gittin up, old lady?” O’Dell teased as she herself pulled herself up using one of the mech’s legs. After having pushed herself for her first day in the gym, she was stiff and sore. But she was not given to complaining, and she knew poking at her would only inspire Gavarus to snark back, which was part of the fun of their friendship.

"Not old. Fat. There's a difference." Gavarus replied back with a smirk as she walked over to the workbench to pick up her PaDD. "So, get back to me after your first pull up."

"Now... Let's start pulling her apart and reinforcing those joints." Gavarus smilled as broadly as her thick jowls allowed.
“Joost ye wait, soon I’ll be bench pressin you!” O’Dell shot back, which was a ridiculous boast and they both knew it. The pipe cleaner arms of the puny pilot couldn’t even manage her own weight, forget about that of her porcine partner, who easily outweighed her by three times.

“So what do we do first? Start popping off the external panels? Is there a tool for that, or… how kin I help?” While she wouldn’t admit weakness to a fault, Fiona O’Dell had no compunctions admitting what she didn’t know. But she was quite willing to learn, and eager to help. When she was in the cockpit, Gavarus had her back. On the flight deck, redesigning the amazing vehicle, the Starfleet sprite was ready and willing, and prepared to be directed.

Stepping back behind the yellow safety lines on the floor, Gavarus motioned for Fiona to follow, which the petite pilot obliged- safety first, after all. Once there, she hit a few buttons on her PaDD and a loud clang could be heard as panels in the ceiling overhead opened up. "This is actually pretty freakin' cool. Watch."

Gavarus raised her eyebrows a few.times at O'Dell as a massive mechanical crane lowered from the ceiling. At the end, a four pronged gripping claw opened up and slowly and delicately wrapped securely around the body of the craft. As it locked in place, Gavarus hit a few more buttons and the arm retracted a few inches, effortlessly lifting the Thunderchicken's feel just off the deck.

"There are forcefield for this stuff, but we're both going to be under there taking those feet off. This increases my sense of not getting smeared into bacon grease. What about you?"

“Are ye kiddin? I hafta watch not to get sat on in the mess hall. O’course I’m more glad to have that great beastie strung up by mechanicals if we’re g’win ta be under it!” O’Dell squeaked. At a meter and a half tall, she was both petite and puny, weighing in at not quite 41kg. Everyone was bigger than her, and her slight frame rendered her not only a physical weakling, but delicate as well, easily prone to injury. However, she was quick, nimble and possessed of a manual dexterity and reflexes that were second to none, which made her a formidable pilot.

Additionally, her ‘little person’ syndrome naturally lent itself to piloting the humanoid mech, as it functioned as an extension of her diminutive form, granting her a stature and strength that she found thrilling. Today was remodeling and refurbishing, as the tests had produced actionable data, so in truth she was excited to participate. If nothing else, her smaller and more delicate hands were better suited for fine detail work, although it was seldom that he compatriot asked for such help from her.

Today, however, she was here to help in whatever capacity she could, and thus she bounced on her heels as she contemplated the great mech.

“So why’re we takin off her feet, Gavarus? Are we modifin’ those thrusters the chief put in her, changing up the linkages for more flexibility or do we hafta get at other systems through m’girl’s big chicken feet?”

Opening up the large side panel on the rolling tool rack that was the.size.of a mid sized dresser, Gavarus pulled out a series of thick disks. Telescoping durasteel disks about two inches thick with a brown gel in the center, they almost looked like a robot hamburger. "We're putting on new shocks, Fee."

Gavarus was almost uncharacteristically excited as she pulled the card between the two massive feet and began laying out a series of tools from the kit in pairs, one set laid out in front of each foot. "These suckers are our polymorphic nano-gel impact absobtion units to replace the.existing shock absorbers in the ankle joints."

"These link with that power regulator and have micro force field generators that will operate off of the ships computer to form the gel with every step for maximum impact protection. I designed these myself based on what we were talking about when I almost threw up on Jablonski." Gavarus said as she sat down on the deck in front of the left foot.

"With these suckers, you can go full full on Riverdance in the Thunderchicken."

As Gavarus sat down, O’Dell stood but leaned over a bit, which kept them at the same relative eye level. “Aye, Ah thought ye mighta mentioned something like that! Better shocks will definitely make it better for her when Ah’m bootin’ aboot them corners. This is exciting!” Handing a screwdriver gun to the engineerO’Dell watched intently, looking for where she could be helpful.

“S’pose the SIF generators are just a necessity, because otherwise she’d bee all hydraulics an’ too heavy, aye?” O’Dell asked, curious about the systems as always. “We’re keepin her lightweight, which works alreet fuir me, but Ah do worry a little bit aboot what might happen if the shields fail…”

"Not to worry. The pads are still fully rated without the shielding adaptation. This will actually increase effectiveness by up to 5 percent." Gavarus bragged with a smirk. Then she looked over at the pint sized pilot.

"What are you... No, come over to the other foot. We're double teaming this sucker." The tall Tellarite thumbed over to the right foot. "Time to get greasy, Leprechaun."

“Ain’t you the charmer. Izzat yuir come-on line, or what ye say once the candles are lit?” O’Dell snickered as she did as she was told and moved into position opposite Gavarus, standing beneath the suspended mech. “Alreet, whatta ye want me ta do?”

Scoffing, Gavarus replied with laugh. "You've seen my come on line. It ends in vomit."

Picking up the magnetic decoupling wrench, Gavarus leaned over the large cuff that covered the ankle of the mechs foot. "Okay, there are six points this is connected to the actual joint. We take the end of the wrench, and when you run the tool over the attachment point, the light on the handle will turn green. Three, counterclockwise turns will unlock the coupling. Once all six are disconnected, the casing will be free."

Then the porcine engineer showed the pint sized pilot how to uncouple the ankle casing. "Got it?"

“Aye!” the petite pixie responded enthusiastically, as she picked up the wrench with a slight grunt and went to work as indicated, seeking the points where the sensor turned green. Turning the wrench very carefully until she had turned it 1080 degrees, she then moved on to the next one. Brow furrowed, eyes squinted, it was clear that she was concentrating on what she was doing, which made her slow with the work, being extra careful and delicate.

Gavarus had finished entirely with her side as O’Dell was only on the third bolt, but she did not hurry to catch up. Taking her time, the eager ensign worked carefully and methodically, a far cry from the freewheeling and intuitive manner in which she piloted and did seemingly everything else. Engineers didn’t usually trust pilots with a wrench, so she was determined to do it right, which meant slow but sure for such a thing in her book.

For her part, Gavarus was watching out of the corner of her eye with a grin. "Half these revisions were your ideas, and Gonadie knows it. So you know how to think like an engineer. But you need to know how to work the tools in case something breaks, when I'm monitoring for someplace else."

"Most of this is basic, changing a tire crap that for some reason Starfleet doesn't teach it's pilots. So to hell with that." In saying so, the usually grumpy engineer laid her cards out a little. She was worried and wanted to make sure her friend could fix basic problems in an emergency.

"Ach, an experimental aircraft liable to be deployed into combat situations all held together by forcefields? What cuild possibly go wrong?" O'Dell chimed ans she turned the wrench. Her arms were already stiff and sore from the morning's exertions in the gym, and her legs are none too happy either. Grin and bear it, ye lazy bum. Outta flight school a couple'a years and canna even do a pull up or a chin oop. Aye, it hurts, and t'will hurt more, but yuir gonna get in shape little lassie.

"Okie, so do Ah take this plate oaf now that I've got it unscrewed?" If it was a class on how it all worked, Fiona was in. Being able to help work on the spacecraft was a treat for her, and Gavarus was a patient teacher. Said I think like an engineer. "Ye know, it dawns on me- the way ye think of this, it's like anatomy. Trying ta make the parts work together while they move certain ways?"

"It's exactly like anatomy. It's just way easier to replace parts." Gavarus smirked. "And it's not 'held together with forcefields'. The forcefields are all reinforcement. Enhancements on top of a very solid machine. Yeesh."

As she said it, she put he hands on the sides of the conical metal sleeve. "Okay, hold it like this. Lift up and towards the ankle until you feel it slide off the bolt tracks. Then just place it to the side."

She showed O'Dell slowly. "It's strong as hell, but extremely light weight. It's made with a flexing durasteel mesh. Even your tiny ass shouldn't have a problem lifting it."

Lifting it as she'd been shown, the sleeve budged a few millimeters, but it didn't slide off. Readjusting her grip and putting a bit more determination behind it, Fiona's arms ached and cried, but she grunted to push through it. Which was fine, but it wasn't really moving. Furrowing her brow at it, she mimed the action to take it off to Briaar, who nodded slowly with a half-smile. Shaking her head and rolling up her sleeves, O'Dell moved in on the outer skin of the Thunderchicken's foot with determination. With both hands the midget Mariposian gripped the part surely then yanked up, only to have it come free easily. Which threw her off-balance, which in turn gave her somewhat shaky legs an excuse to give out underneath her and dump her on the deck on her tiny bony ass.

Trying to stifle a laugh and failing miserably, Gavarus let out a snort as she got up to help Fiona. "Damn, really? You went full boneless on me there, Leprechaun. C'mere."

"It's harder than it looks!" O'Dell protested, rubbing her bony backside. "So's the deck..."

Taking the removed part and setting it aside, the towering Tellarite helped pull the embarrassed ensign to her feet. "Okay, soooo... Mag-gravs from here on."

Pulling a set of two white handles with thumb buttons and round pads in front from the tool cart, she held one of the handles, pressed the pad to the metal machine part and pressed the thumb button. There was an audible clank sound and Gavarus lifted the discarded part as though it were weightless. "Unless the actual clamp grips are too much for you, these will come in handy for the rest of the feet, which are we, way heavier."

Releasing the thumb trigger and setting down the part, she handed the clamps to O'Dell and grabbed two of her own. "Give them a try."

Taking the pair of clamps and pressing the buttons experimentally, O'Dell reached for the recently abandoned part, engaged the clamps, then easily lifted it, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh aye, these go in the repair kit we build in, right? Because these are the dog's bollocks, they are!"

"Oh, hell yes. They're essential. Especially in the field. They will enable you to safely move up to almost 400 kilograms in an emergency situation. And most of the rest of the foot will be closer to that range once we take it apart. So let's get this done." Gavarus had a legitimate smile on her face. There's nothing she loved more than taking things apart and fixing them. In a universe of uncertainty and chaos, she had her hands and her mind to force things to work right

And today, she had her best friend chomping at the bit to learn how to do it too, which left the normally grouchy Tellarite feeling remarkably good as the two dug into it.

It was a slow, step by step process as Briaar Gavarus took the landing assembly of the Thunderchicken apart, bolt by bolt. With each move, she showed and explained it to the tiny Titan who absorbed it all like a ravenous sponge. O'Dell was smart. Seriously smarter than she gave herself credit for as she picked up techniques like a fourth year cadet.

Among the members of the Hera's new R&D team, Gavarus had felt like the most replaceable. An irritable, difficult to work with engineer that only ended up in the Flight department because it's chief liked to tinker with the runabouts and the Chief Engineer was tired of cleaning up her messes. It was the job nobody wanted in engineering, so it went to the engineer nobody wanted to work with.

But here was little Fiona O'Dell, taking apart an experimental robotic foot joint for the fist time and reassembling it piece by piece, listening to every word Gavarus said. O'Dell cared, and Gavarus didn't quite know why but she was glad she did. She really liked the irritating little red head, and was beyond glad nobody else in engineering wanted the job of fixing what Lieutenant Dox had tinkered with.

After a few hours, both women were covered in grease and hydraulics fluids, exhausted from the effort and more than a little hungry but as they tightened the bolts on the ankle coverings, the job was done.

"Frickin' A, Fee. That's goddamn perfect." Gavarus commented.

"That was soooo neat! It's like a puzzle, nae joost how the parts goo tagether, but how ye have to sequence the whole kaboodle ta make it happen. That was dead brilliant, Briaar! Thank ye! Me brothers never let me tinker less they lost a tool in the engine and they needed me ta fetch it wi' me tiny mitts. They should teach more mechanics to the pilots. Now when Ah envision what me foot is doin', Ah kin also picture what the chicken's doin', cause Ah know how it all goes together. S'bluiddy fantastic!" O'Dell had been running to the replicator for energy drinks, and dirty and worn-out as she was, she still had manic energy as she grinned from ear to ear and bopped about radiating glee.

"Yes! Shower! Uniforms! Lunch!" O'Dell grabbed at gavarus' large hand that was the size of her head and tugged insistently. "M'sa hungry I could eat a hippo! C'mon, Chief Gonadie even got us showers oop here! Well, decon showers, but still."

Laughing at O'Dell's attempts to pull her along, Gavarus relented and started off behind the miniature Maraposian. "Fine..." She snorted out a laugh. "I could definitely eat."

Passing the replicator outside the showers, Gavarus ordered up two spare uniforms for the women as the stepped in. As they were alone, the porcine engineer simply tossed the fresh uniforms in the small bench and began pulling off her greasy clothes without a care. Having grown up with nine sisters and seven brothers meant that the lack of privacy growing up had left Gavarus with a bit fewer reservations about stripping naked to in front of her newfound friend that she felt remarkably comfortable around.

As for O'Dell, she too, covered in grease and various fluids, also stripped down, though she was a bit shyer about it. Cautiously removing her uniform with her back to her porcine pal, the skinny, flat-chested runt took off her undershirt and undies- Gavarus clearly wasn't shy, and while her figure, or lack thereof, had been a source of mocking and ridicule for her for most of her adult life, the towering Tellarite didn't seem to particularly notice. There were no wisecracks, no mocking- it was the same as if they had still been in uniform to her as she sneezed, snorted then got into the shower.

Encouraged, the underdeveloped ensign climbed into the shower too, her exuberance a bit dampened but once the sonics started, she relaxed. Which of course meant she started talking. "I dinna know we actually still used real grease fuir movin parts! Woulda thought it was a silicon based mimetic gel or soomething by noow."

"I don't like the modern, silicone replacements as much. Maybe I'm a little old school about it, but for me a high quality grease just still works better in a clinch." Gavarus was never more comfortable then when she was talking shop, but she was also picking up on Fiona's body issues. Her's were different, but she recognized all the cues and so she kept the conversation no different that it would be if they were dressed.

But the shower felt really good as she leaned back and spread her arms and legs out wide an moaned in an exaggerated, humorous fashion. "Oh, this is the shit."

"It does feel good... I dinna realize Ah needed this quite s'mooch." Shaking out the great shaggy mane of bright red curls from the ponytail, Fiona scrubbed her scalp with her clean hands, pushing up the volume a bit on the mass of unruly hair she maintained. She was still moving a little stiffly as she did a few stretches in the shower, but there were no jokes, so she relaxed and enjoyed the soothing pulse of the sonics on her sore strained muscles. "After lunch, kin we work on the engine? I'd like to see how ye manually input the coordinates, in case I ivvir get stuck like that withoot you along to bail me out, aye?"

" Yeah. I need to recalibrate it anyway to sync it with the power couplings for the new shocks. And I can show you how to hard wire coordinates even if the controls are dead from behind the panel. A little something I rigged after our party atire n the asteroids. Since you can frickin'navigate by goddamn visual cues, it should be easy."

Finished, Gavarus shut her shower down and finished up. Feeling clean, she began tossing her freshly replicated new uniform on.

“It’s nae s’hard s’long as ye know the distance between stars, joost the math is tough. And ye canna do it wi’ any accuracy within a system, because of planetary rotations and stoof the computer usually keeps track of and the scanners update real-time. Withoot alla the data, just astrogatin by the stars isn’t s’hard- coming outta warp and not bein’ in immediate troobul, that’s the hard part.” Still a little shy, Fiona stepped out of the shower and dressed quickly, clearly more relaxed when covered up.

As a grown woman who hadn’t quite made it to ‘grown’, she was terribly self-conscious. But with Gavarus being so cavalier about her own nudity and not picking on O’Dell at all about her body or even particularly noticing, it emboldened her enough to relax a little with her bestie. As misfits, the two understood one another on a primal level. While they still traded jabs and jokes, underneath it there was an unspoken acceptance of one another that had made them fast friends.

"Well, you did and you were effed up at the time, so take the frickin' compliment." Gavarus snorted out a sarcastic laugh. "Okay, let's take this show on the road, I'm starving."

“Oh aye, ‘twas still a feat I’ll brag aboot to me nieces an’ nephews soomday, make no mistake,” Fiona grinned broadly. “So ye want to inflict ourselves on the galley or joost grab a replicated bite here? M’tryin ta be a good vegetarian boot I could murder a cheeseburger an’ fries!”

"Eat whatever you want, it doesn't bother me. It's all replicated matter. I just literally can't process meat well. My stomach's were just designed for veggies." Gavarus scoffed. "And I'm fine eatingin the break room here. Saves us the aggravation of dealing with any actual people.”

“Ach, well, it bothers me. I work with a pig and a bird… s’hard ta look at bacon and chicken the same way afterward. But at least Ah kin still eat lamb and goat and beef unless the R&D team gets a whole lot more diverse,” O’Dell clarified. “”But Ah think it’s important we mingle wi’ the crew. After all, we’re R&D! We got our own department and we’re a test pilot and an experimental flight engineer. We’re hot shite noow!”

"Uggggh..." Gavarus mock-groaned in feigned indignation. "Fine, we can go be seen and... I guess... interact with... people." The Tall Tellarite rolled her eyes. "Mingling. Ugh." she added with an exaggerated shudder.

“Ahhh, c’mon, ye great sociopath. Mebbe someone will pick a fight with us and we’ll get ye kin have a nice argument for dessert!”