The Baroness von Alcott had never felt better, but even though she'd never felt better, things were happening to her that had her worried. She had smashed a lot more PaDDs than usual, she broke her replicator, and she put her hand through the flight controls of her own ship just in the past week alone. Hence why she was now in sickbay, looking for Doctor Dael, trying not to touch anything.

"Herr Doctor? I was hoping you could give me a checkup? Are you in?" she called, looking for Asa first in the main area, then peeking into their office.

Crawling out from under a disobedient biobed, Asa wiped wiped their hands on a nearby towel before smiling brightly as the baroness.

"Just doing some maintenance on my problem biobed here....I swear this one is developing a personality, and not a good one. What can I do for you?" they inquired.

"I have been having some issues..." Schwein was normally rather forthcoming with things, but now she was unusually shy for some reason. "I have been..." Sighing, she decided to just blurt it out, blushing as she did so. "Since my last physical, my muscle tissue density has increased seventeen percent and I have destroyed far too many things."

"OK, these things happen, no need to fret," Asa said soothingly. "Let's get some baselines on you and compare the differences between then and now, eh?"

That said, Doc Dael set about taking scans and reading, comparing measurements and readings. After a brief moment of arching an eyebrow at the PaDD in front of them, Asa continued.

"It's not just your muscle tissue, your nerve conduction has improved, your bone density is up, and your cognitive processing is also increased. You aren't by any chance feeling harder, faster and stronger to quote the old song?"

With a wink and without waiting for a response, they continued, "In all seriousness, have you noticed any changes to your reflexes or thinking?"

"Ja, actually. And mein ship now has no flight controls because of it." replied the platinum haired pirate. "I think this started shortly after my betrothal to Thor... Or perhaps after my bond with Cara..."

Thinking for a moment, Asa considered the different implications.

"Have you felt any changes in personality like you did during your bond with Cara? I don't show any signs of that bond still being in place, but our first sign was always the change in personality. Well, that and the fact she was unable to leave your side."

Schwein shook her head. "Nein, nothing that I have noticed. Other than... Ah... Daydreaming a bit more than usual... I am betrothed to an Asgardian god, after all."

"OK, onto Asgardian betrothal.....um, is there any chance you are holding on to any, um, essence of Thor? Any late night visits that we don't know about?" Asa asked, cheeks coloring at the implication of what they were asking.

This is when the platinum haired pirate blushed bright red and she wanted to completely clam up, but this was her doctor she was talking to, so she knew she couldn't. She cleared her throat and pressed on, glancing away like an embarrassed schoolgirl. "Ja... He has visited mein bedchambers several times since Freya's approval of me..."

"Um, well,....." Asa began, trailing off while the blush that had begun in their ears spread to their part-line down to their toes, "It's possible that a bit of his, um, endurance, is passing on to you. Um, what birth control methods are you using, if I may ask?"

"Infertility?" Schwein was an augmented human and being engineered, she'd been made sterile from birth and supposedly loyal and docile so she could be kept under control and not go on a rampage like Khan before her. Otherwise, she shared quite a bit of her eugenics modifications with the augmented humans of Khan's group. "Ah, sorry, I have not been using anything. I did not consider it a risk."

"Completely natural," Asa said kindly, " but um....well maybe try prophylactics and see if that helps. Come see me in a few days and let's test and see how you are doing. Might be a good idea to get engineering to run diagnostics on your cybernetics too...check for any virus that's technological in nature. Would you like a strength inhibitor in the meantime?"

"Strength inhibitor? What would that entail?" The Baroness looked a bit unsure of things at this point. She'd never heard of such things outside of prisons and torture rooms.

"The technical term is actually a Angiotensin-converting enzyme bonded with a benzodiazepine...The enzyme simulates old age quite effectively...in fact, it was originally designed as an empathy exercise to help medical practitioners understand what it feels like to have muscle strength and flexibility decrease with age, and the benzo slows down thinking a bit. If you don't want that part, I can always replicate the drug without it. Either way about it, simulating old age might be our best bet to reduce your strength with minimal other side effects for the next few days." Asa said.

"Ah, no, I may be needed at any moment as Prinzessin Telvan's adjutant and this strength will come in handy. Plus, it has been... Appreciated... In mein bedchambers..." The battle worn pirate again blushed at the mention of matters close to her 'Heart'.

"Ah, well," Asa said, blushing a crimson red to match the overall embarrassment of the conversation, "Then perhaps we alert engineering to beef up some consoles for you?"

"Ja, that may be a more prudent path," replied the Baroness. "And maybe a few panels for mein ship as well? My quarters replicator and my ship's flight controls are... In need of repair..."

“Well, sounds like a good way to get some engineering crew acclimated to the Hera,” Asa said with a twinkle in their eye.

“I’m also programming a holodeck program for you to simulate different levels of resistance. This way you can test yourself on different days and see if you can train your body to acclimate to the different levels of force needed to operate simple machinery. If this added strength is going to be part of you, and by all accounts it seems like it is going to be, then rewiring the ol’ noggin to process the bodies changes is the best we can do to prepare you for the future. That way you can throw a punch without sending the target flying across the room. What do you say?”

"I have always trained at full power... This will be... Different." Schwein thought it over for a moment before nodding in approval. "I will add it to my daily training regiment."

“Excellent!” Asa enthused, “Think of it as fine tuning. Try to see how gently you can touch something before it moves. Try to go hard and retract your muscles at the last minute. And no need to worry if you smash something, heck, smash away. Might even be good for the soul to cause a little mayhem, eh? I may even join you…”

The doctor had a bit of a mischievous grin on their face at the last as they contemplated an all-out smash party for the Baroness to get her bearings on how hard she truly could hit things now.

"I do enjoy smashing mein enemies..." Schwein thought this over, wondering just how strong she had become. She could bend par-steel before, but now... She might be able to single handedly tear apart a shuttle if she had to.

“Let’s have a smash party then! You can decimate whatever you want the holodeck to throw at you and laugh at my puny attempts to swing a sledegehammer into an ugly piece of glassware or something. That would probably be the extent of my abilities. But hey, makes a pretty sound!”

The platinum haired woman chuckled softly at that thought. "I look forward to that then. Send me an invite when you have it scheduled, ja?"

On the list of a hundred and one things she still had to do in order to prepare for the upcoming Tribunal, Commander Rita Paris realized she was going to need some help from the USS Hera's chief engineer. Given that she had fought tooth and nail against involving any more of the crew, only to discover that many of them had already committed on their own, Rita had leaned into it. Now this was a Starfleet operation, and she was making her plans and moving pieces into play on the board, as she prepared for the conflict she had been assured was coming despite- or perhaps because- of the political machinations of the head of the Artan family of pirates, Arenara Artan, the Captain's mother.

The US Hera, named for the goddess of women, motherhood and family, did very much seem to be more often than not involved in generational stories of the ties that bind. Which could be faulted to Rita, as she was the one whom had chosen not to kill the goddess when she was overthrown on Meroset 347. As well as when she had accidentally summoned the goddess, spiriting her away from her imprisonment with the Asgaardians, then installing her on the Hera as a guest and advisor on matter seemingly supernatural.

But Rita didn't believe any of this was Hera's doing. Instead, this was people's choices, and the universe doing what the universe did. Enalia's mother wanted what she wanted and was tired of her headstrong rebellious daughter who wanted to buck family tradition and join Starfleet. The elder Artan wanted a granddaughter to raise, and she wanted it over Enalia's dead body if need be, it seemed.

Thus, as said Tribunal neared, Paris found herself down in Main Engineering, seeking out the resident fix-it gal of the Hera- the slender and agile yet perennially cheerful Thex sh'Zoarhi. Newly bonded and now with child- twins, no less- Thex had more to lose than ever. As she had agreed to aid the captain as well, there was nothing Rita could do to stop her. So instead, today she'd come to tack into the wind, and enlist Thex's aid to insure that the Andorian engineer had that much more of a fighting chance in the upcoming battle.

Because Rita Paris was determined that they were all coming home from this one, no matter what it cost the pirates.

Thex was whistling to herself as she worked at her personal workbench. She didn't know why, but since finding out she was pregnant she had been in a permanent happiness state. Despite her condition, her quad knew that she had to help her friend. There were no arguments in there strange little family and for that she thanked whoever int he universe had given her that.

Even still she was going to make sure her unborn had as much protection as possible which was why she was adding a few more bits of armor to her personal armor. Better safe than sorry. Hearing the knock on her wall she looked up giving her friend a happy grin. " Well hello, Rita how are you this fine day." said the sapphire engineer.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” Rita replied with a half-smile. “I understand you’ll be helping us with the Captain’s tribunal?”

" Yeah, it's why I'm adding more shielding and armor to my armor." The andorian said as she put down her tools. " Looking over the captain's own ship as well. She's sure jury-rigged her. Federation, Romulan and Klingon parts with other races mixed in."

“That’s what I came to talk to you about. We’re going to need to booby trap the hell out of that Miranda-class bridge, and I am going to need it done quickly and under complete secrecy. I’m going to be frank here, Thex,” Paris spread her hands as she spoke, and her tone became more direct than normal. “If they aren’t Starfleet, I simply do not trust them. Anyone who is a pirate is suspect, and I expect betrayal at any moment from any of them, from the lowliest cabin boy to their captains. If you aren’t Starfleet, you are not to be trusted, period."

"Which means I need your crews working out my plans, and no one- and I mean NO ONE, not even the Captain herself, is to know what you are doing or why. And if they have a problem with it, you send them to me. But I will expect your people to be armed and prepared to defend themselves at any moment. If anyone wants to push the point of them being allowed to do their work unimpeded, feel free to shoot to stun and call me. Am I understood?”

The sapphire engineer nodded slowly. She trusted the captain, but other than a few encounters with the Baroness she hadn't met any of the others pirates apart from one who she'd kicked in the face whilst on her first shore leave here. "Of course Rita. What traps would you be after? I know a few things that I could easily rig up that wouldn't take to long to do or are likely to be noticed."

"Computer, please project Repel Boarders before me here, 1 meter size." As the holographic map of the bridge appeared, graphics began to appear. "I need magnetized rings on the bridge, levels of defense from the viewer in waves to the turbolift," Rita started off, as the model showed concentric waves on the bridge of the Hera. "If we can change their personal gravities with the inertial dampeners that would be handy as well, but that's... harder I assume? And on those same waves from fore to aft, preprogrammed and independently powered forcefields. Because even doing them as a dry run on the bridge of the Hera, I can't think of a time when I would not want these things if I could have these things... thus I find I want these things."

"What are some of your ideas, Thex? What's that fertile brain of yours concocted?" Rita grinned at her pregnant pal. Twins... damn Thex, you instant family like a champ. Look at you headed for your happily ever after and a legacy. "Keeping in mind, the objective is to deal with boarding parties who are theoretically trying to take the Bridge."

"Hum." The pregnant andorian said as she looked and moved the hologram around slightly. " I think I can do that. The academy training ship has gravitational field rings built into the floor and ceiling to simulate the loss of gravity. It wouldn't be hard to install them on the bridge. I could add in some of the devices we have in the brig to keep rowdy prisoners under control."

"Good, good. What other anti-personnel features come to mind?" Rita liked where Thex's head was at- how to make it happen. The affable Andorian's wheel were turning- now to give them a nudge. "Do we have some of that flame retardant foam that hardens a second after contact with air? I seem to recall we have that down in the brig."

"Well, there is something," Thex said as she ran the idea through in her head. "I could alter a few Houdini with the sealant form core's instead of the stun feature...." It was just then that the blue girl remembered Rita would have no idea what a Houdini was. "That's a subspace mine we first encountered from the Dominion. Starfleet xenobiology modified the design to be non lethal after the war and now use it for monitoring devices and to help protect the hides from dangerous wildlife."

Not entirely sure just what Thex was trying to say, Rita just nodded along. "Okay, I guess? How long do you think it'd take your engineers to install all of this on the bridge? Keeping in mind, we'll be docked at the Artan fortress."

"Not long- around two hours. I'll clear the current replenish order from the industrial replicator and get on it as soon as possible. " Thex said with a grin on her face.

"Brilliant. Thank you, Miss sh'Zoarhi," Rita smiled, nodding. Leave it to Thex to make it sound simple. "Also, keep an eye toward doing the same things on a Miranda class bridge, if you please. We will likely need your crew to reproduce these safeguards on another starship before we're through here."

"Will do." The andorian nodded as she began to type in the commands into her work benches computer. " The Miranda class bridge is easy enough to modify, especially for a girl like me."

"How's that, Thex?" Rita inquired, curious what 'a girl like me' referred to.

"You have the best engineer in the fleet working on it!" Thex responded with a grin on her face her pregnancy having left her in very confident mood.

After a full day of bed rest and another full day back on duty, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox was fit to burst to see exactly how badly she had been hurt in the assassination attempt of two days prior that left Ensign Raphael Paulson dead and her with two broken legs and more.

Broken bones were easily fixed and Doctor Asa Dael was the best CMO in the fleet as far as the Red-headed Romulan pilot was concerned, and she needed to know if there were any lingering effects from her injuries. She still felt stiffness in her joints when she got up and a lingering soreness that Asa said would last a week or so.

But Dox didn't have a week as the Hera would be pulling into the Artan Family Orbital Fortress in the Kabul system for Captain Enalia Telvan's tribunal to challenge her mother for control of the pirate family. A family Dox had been inducted in as a Baroness to help sway votes in the Captain's favor. And it was an assignment that would very likely require the young pilot to fight with both swords and fists and she needed to know if she still could.

So, without telling Asa or her bond-mate Mona Gonadie, Dox stood in the center of the holodeck on a set of teal pads looking at a humanoid, holographic representation of her old rubber covered pink practice dummy. But this recreation could move and had legs. Her twin Caitian blades had been confiscated temporarily during the investigation into the assassination attempt. So, for now, she would simply test her hand-to-hand skills.

“Computer…” she spoke to the room, “Please begin Dox hand-to-hand sparring program. Level 4, thank you.”

With a chirrup, the computer replied with its unusually usual civility. =^=Yes, Lieutenant Dox. You're welcome.=^=

Without warning, the simulation began its attack with a flurry of hits that Dox was able to block quite effectively. So far, the stiffness didn’t seem to be slowing her down and she was pushing through it to keep up her defense. But it didn’t stop her mind from running on full volume in the background.

Ultimately, the angry pilot understood why she wasn’t permitted to become involved in any way with the investigation into Paulson’s murder because it was a part of the attempted murder on her. She couldn’t be involved. She couldn’t be told the name of the suspect. She couldn’t have gone with von Alcott or Jablonski to bring whoever it was in for questioning.

She couldn’t do anything and that lack of activity was driving her crazy as it spiraled in her mind. She trusted Rita’s decision and she knew that those handling the situation were far more qualified than she was, but it was still extremely frustrating to be sidelined.

As she began to get lost in thought, the dummy got a punch through her defense, striking her as hard as the holodeck would allow in the ribs that had been cracked just two days ago. With an uncharacteristically loud yell, Dox let out a shriek of panic as she stepped back, away from the attack to give herself some breathing room.

The impact point was sore, but her ribs were fine. The bones were healed by Doctor Dael expertly, but it was her moment of panic that bothered her. But she had no time to dwell as the dummy shifted its tactic to a series of sharp, quick kicks.

Blocking the first two, Dox was forced to leap back to avoid the last strike and landed hard on her left leg. As she did, she felt a quick spasm from that calf that shot up her leg and her knee wobbled and gave out. Rolling back as the dummy pressed its attack, she fell hard to the matt and clutched the knee that had been shattered when the assassin droid commandeered a work bee shuttle and rammed her with it in the flight deck. There was a slight tingle from what was nothing more than a momentary cramp that she had to ignore to avoid a series of stomping attacks from the dummy.

“Hhakh Kreldanni…” Dox muttered, insulting herself in her native Rihan as she tried to switch from defense to offense. She was sore, but she was unhurt and she knew if she kept reacting as if every hit was going to re-break her bones, she was going to lose and be even more useless in the tribunal than she already felt.

Rolling inside the leg span of the dummy, Dox let its stomp rn down her back as she launched herself up with a stiff forearm to the inside thigh of her attacker, her own momentum and force lifting the dummy off its feet as she slammed it into the mat hard.

Wasting no time, she scrambled to a kneeling positing and struck first for a neck blow, which the dummy on it’s back deflected. It was a sloppy, anger-influenced move that left her ribs open again for an attack, and the dummy pressed the issue jabbing her stiffly again.

As the air was forced out of her, Dox rolled back off the dummy and scrambled to her feet, favoring her side a bit more which was getting progressively stiffer. “Hnaev… I am NOT losing to a goddamn hologram.

But the hologram didn’t react as if it heard or cared as it rolled back up to its feet and stood in a ready stance. Looking at the dummy and watching it bob back and forth on its feet, Dox’s eyes narrowed. It was acting like a living opponent. Every strike it had landed was against an area that had been injured as if it knew her weak spots. But that wasn’t anything in the program so she wondered if she was imagining things as it dropped to the mat to try and sweep her right ankle. The Ankle that had been broken as well two nights ago.

Dox slid back out of the way, being careful to not put pressure back on the calk that cramped as the Dummy spun back up and tried to turn the momentum of it’s spin into a kick to her bruised ribs. But this time, Dox stepped back into its arc, catching its leg and sweeping its other leg out from under it. And as it’s weight pulled it down, the angry Romulan held tight to the other leg and twisted in the opposite direction. There was a loud buzzing sound, an indication that if that had been a living opponent, then she would have just broken its knee.

But she didn’t pause to linger on the leg. The opponent was programmed to react as if it experienced pain and it curled up on the matt as she released the leg and dropped her own knee down hard on its midsection. There was another buzzing indicating that ribs would have been broken. As she lingered over the figure she held her fist angrily up, trembling with barely contained rage. She wanted this to be the monster that got Paulson killed. She wanted it to be anything that could help her feel less useless at the tribunal neared.

“Computer, end program.” She muttered as the dummy shimmered out of existence.

Kneeling on the floor of the holodeck, Dox took several long breaths, calming herself down. Physically, she was fine. Stiff and sore but ultimately fine. But the exercise showed her that where she wasn’t fine was in her head. She didn't trust herself at first. He hesitated and panicked until the dummy forced her to push past her self-doubt. She might be crazy, but she wondered as she knelt there if the computer knew where she was injured as the dummy seemed to go after those spots almost intentionally. Something that shouldn’t have been possible.

At least with a computer that wasn’t sentient.

Standing up, she thought about it for a moment as she stretched out a little and tested her theory. “Thanks. I needed that.” She spoke to the room.

A soft purring sound could be heard right before a comm terminal shimmered into view right in the middle of the holodeck and the computer made an announcement. =^=A time delayed message for you has been triggered. Will you accept it?=^=

"Time delayed..." Dox repeated at a whisper as she stepped towards the terminal. Immediately, her stomach tightened slightly into a knot. "C... computer... I accept the message."

Immediately, the image of the android Kodria Mizu popped up on the holographic screen, smiling as cheerfully as if it was yesterday. "Hey! If you're getting this, then Maru sensed that all the conditions were met and it was time for this message to be delivered. Which means that by now you should have your DNA fixed, you should know who your father really is, your mother is aboard... And you should be about to face the Tribunal, having just survived an assassination attempt." The young android counted off the conditions on her fingers as she rattled them off.

"If any of the details are a bit off... Well, the timeline may have shifted a bit. But..." Here she got serious and leaned in towards the camera. "There are three things you need to know. One is that you need to cherish the time you have with your mother. You only have one, young lady, so treat her well while you have her. That's what you always told me, after all. Two is that that the Saurian brandy is poisoned. Three is that the evidence is where you least expect to find it."

Relaxing again, the child-like android leaned back and smiled brightly again. "Other than that, I hope you're doing well. I can't wait to wake up and see you and everyone else again. I know that you and Aunt Rita will get through this and I really hope grandma does too." She then reached up and hit a button, the message cutting off.

As the message ended, Dox had tears running down her cheeks. It had been months since she and the rest of the crew had said goodbye to Kodria and she found that she still missed her terribly. Standing in he room, she was smiling for a moment thinking about Kodria and what she represented.

Then she began thinking about what Kodria's message meant. At first, her thoughts lingered on her mother. Kodira's words echoed another statement made months ago by the woman once called Masato Rei. The embodiment of Death herself counciled Dox as well with a cryptic warning of almost the exact same words. She had been trying to not think about the implications of that but not she knew she had to do her best.

The second statement was blunt and specific. No real amiguity. No Saurian Brandy for anyone during this tribunal . That was simple enough.

But that third statement was a clue. "What does that mean, Kodria? 'The evidence is where I least expect to find it'?" Dox muttered to herself as she stood in the middle of the holodeck. Captain Telvan's mother had been behind the assassination attempt to silence Dox's vote in the tribunal. She had bugged the cybernetics of Baroness Sarika to try and spy on the ship. And she corrupted the swordfighting training program in attempt to kill Baroness von Alcott in this very holodeck.

"This holodeck..." Dox muttered to herself as she remembered the corrupted program where she and the members of the crew that were going to be involved in the tribunal fought for their lives on a replica of the Pirate Queen's own starship. An exact replica.

As her mind raced, her eyes bulged slightly. "Where we least... right in front of our eyes... Hnaev." Dox cursed as a thought came to her.

Quickly, she ran over to the corner of the room where her uniform was folded up on the floor and picked it up to grab her comm badge. Giving it a tap, it made it's telltale chirp.

"Lieutenant Dox to Commander Paris. Commander... can you come to Holodeck 2... I think it's important." As she spoke, a slight smile crossed Dox's face as her mind raced, not with doubts or anxiety, but with a renewed hope.

"Lieutenant Dox to Commander Paris. Commander... can you come to Holodeck 2... I think it's important."

Tapping the ancient delta on her breast, the gold-clad commander replied as she headed for a turbolift in anticipation of having to be somewhere.

"On my way."

Nodding to a few passing crewmen, offering encouraging smiles, she saved tapping at her PaDD for turbolift rides. Crew morale looked good, most were moving with some sort of sense of purpose, and all seemed well on the organized and efficient starship. Which made Rita's old-fashioned heart happy. A good crew could pull off miracles, after all.

For the entirety of the turbolift ride and much of the stroll to the theatre-sized Holodeck 2, she mused about how that relationship worked, waxing philosophically, attempting to achieve some sort of understanding or epiphany about it. Ultimately, as she tapped her command code into the entry for the holodeck, she came up with a blank. A question answered of the universe with no answer for her, at least.

Stepping out onto the bridge of the Bloody Rose, the pirate queen Arenara Artan's personal craft, Rita Paris took it in with some degree of nostalgia. "This bridge was what we thought the future was going to look like. Ahh, nostalgia."

Smiling slightly, Mnhei'sahe Dox was standing off behind the helm of the holographic replica of the Miranda-Class starship. She was still wearing her black workout pants and a black tank top, but with her crimson uniform tunic over it, hanging open. She looked a bit sweaty and a little winded, but otherwise fine and almost excited. "Well, this particular one is horrible. But the class itself is an excellent design. I've practiced a lot on a simulation of the Captain's Miranda to get a feel for her controls and it's all very intuitive. But that's not what I called you for."

Walking over to Rita's position, Dox nodded slightly. "I was working out. I wanted to make sure my injuries were healed before the tribunal, but when it was over, something happened. Maru called up a message for me from Kodria."

"Ah, one of those sublime clues our time-traveling niece left behind. I swear, I will miss that kid until the day we meet her," Rita admitted. "Which brought you back here to the bridge of the enemy, rendered in high holographic display. Okay, I'll bite. What did Kodria have to say?"

Nodding slightly, Dox's smile softened as she thought about their Android niece from the future. "Yeah, me too." But then her focus shifted back to their purpose there.

"She told me three things... Here." Pulling down a holographic display from out of thin air that she clearly had ready for this exact reason, Dox replayed the segment of the message she had just received.

On the projected screen, the image of Kodria Mizu appeared, "There are three things you need to know. One is that you need to cherish the time you have with your mother. You only have one, young lady, so treat her well while you have her. That's what you always told me, after all. Two is that the Saurian brandy is poisoned. Three is that the evidence is where you least expect to find it."

As the message ended, the screen vanished. "So... It's the last two is what's relevant here. The Saurian Brandy thing is self-explanatory, but I kept getting stuck on the last part. So I started thinking about what we're trying to find evidence for. The assassination, the tampering with Schwein and Sarika's cybernetics, and the sabotage of the holodeck to try and kill Schwein."

Starting to pace as she talked, Dox was running her thoughts out loud. "THIS holodeck. With a perfect replica of her bridge programmed on it. And Kodia said that she had Maru deliver the message to me specifically after a number of specific things had happened. Things that made it so that I would be here, in the same holodeck where this all happened. I thought it might not be a coincidence."

"Well, I've had Science and Intel all over it, so every nook, cranny, nut and bolt has been inspected and catalogued," The extradimensional explorer wagged her finger at the Agonizer technology which was apparently designed to be used shipwide. "Those things. Those things are the devil."

"They can make Vulcans scream."

"It feels like you're being turned inside out then that gets turned inside out. It spasms all of your muscles so that you can't claw your skin off while it feels like you're being devoured by a million ants. And you can't yank your own teeth out as every nerve ending in them is on fire, and if you're lucky you can close your eyes so you can't see what it looks like when every nerve ending in your eyeballs become pain receptors," the experienced executive explained.

"Someone who owns one of these is a sick, sick puppy. Someone who puts one on her bridge is a nasty piece of work. That's somebody staying in charge through some serious fear of failure in her underlings. Because she not only puts one of them in there," Paris was, of course, extrapolating on what she saw, but her logic was unshakable. "She makes the rest of the bridge crew listen, there at their posts. This woman's practically a Terran... ah, the mirror universe Federation earthlings."

Looking solemnly at it, Dox spoke more softly as she could see the anxiety on Rita's face. "Yet another reason we need to remove her from power and dismantle all of this."

"Science and Intel went all over this thing. We have their reports- feel like collating some data, Lieutenant?" Paris offered the helmsman with a grin. "Look for the clues we can find in the 8 second loop they could safely recover? It appeared to be 15 minutes of footage, but Sonak determined playing the loop as a full sequence was in and of itself a trap designed to space you, creating conditions of a vacuum inside the holodeck with the safeties off and the deck on full security lockdown. Ugly way to die."

"Of course it would have multiple levels of death trap." Dox grimaced as she thought of how depraved the Captain's mother was and it only strengthened her resolve. "And yes, let's see what we can see. I know I may be grasping at proverbial straws here... but I trust Kodria. She wanted us... me and you... to see something here. She would know I would have called you. I all but told her I would."

Pacing across the simulated bridge, Dox nodded. "Okay... what do we have?"

"What we have are reports. Computer, please give me a meter by half-meter screen in midair here with the science and intel reports in 16 point font on each of these panels, and give me the conclusive reports to me left and right of the captain's chair, on my mark... mark." The old-time officer had a tendency to use precision military determination at time, but it was at least applicable when it came to some of what they did here in the far-flung future. As the requested screens all phased into being, Paris nodded her approval

"Thank you, Computer. Well done."

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

"So let's see what we have here... where were we headed today, Mommy Dearest?" Paris stepped down to the tactical console to check the heading, then stepped over to the helm to confirm. "Well, this is interesting. Take a look."

Walking over, Dox looked at the displayed information from both stations. "Okay. We've got the ships speed. Warp 7. Starting coordinates look like the Kabul sector where the Artan Fortress is. And we've got heading, course data and destination coordinates."

As she spoke, Dox's attention went from the hovering information display to the actual simulation of the bridge consoles themselves, reading the same information off of them as she slowly ran her hands over the controls. "But... they were... These coordinates aren't set for anyplace in specific. This is just... dead space. A rendezvous, maybe?"

"Possibly..." Paris was tapping at a PaDD in hand, confirming. "Yup, looks like nothing out there in the database but spacelanes. Let's see what else we've got." Stepping away from the helm, Rita eyed the command chair, then skimmed over the science report. "Science verified Az'Prel's theory about the agony booth, surprise. Verified the veracity of the simulation, verified the eight second rule, verified the entire starship is reproduced in this simulation. That's kinda nuts, isn't it? She wanted to make sure the Baroness was killed she holographically reproduced her entire starship as a trap for her. This is one crazy driven woman who really wanted credit for being such a bitch."

"Indeed. There was no way she was going to kill Schwein without her knowing it was her. I'm willing to bet that Schwein's had some unpleasant experiences on this ship, hence the level of detail. It's sadistic for sure." Dox had begun pacing the simulated bridge, her mind running the information available. In front of the Communication station, Dox paused looking at the data on the screens and her eyebrows knitted.

"Commander... This is the communications officers station, right? These numbers here? Is this the readout for subspace frequencies?" While Dox had trained herself to fly a Miranda class ship, she was far less well versed on the full functions of the model of bridge so similar to ones Rita Paris had once served on in her own era.

"Good eye, Lieutenant. First bridge post I served was at comms- I didn't have the scores to go pilot in my third year so I switched to Communications as a major. Not proud of it, but it got me through the Academy. Let's see here..." Paris hands tapped across the displays, reacquainting herself with the console. "This is the subspace frequency... it's an open channel, see, that's what it looked like on the console. All we've got is the frequency but... " Paris checked the reports hovering beside the consoles. "Nothing really significant about- oh, there we go, the channel ID on the other end is..."

Suddenly Dox cut her Commander of with a wide-eyed curse, "Imirrhlhhse! I can't believe I missed that!"

Turning around, Dox ran back over to the data readout above the navigation workstation, scrolling through the projected data with her hand until the star maps of the ship's heading was shown. "There! Okay... That subspace frequency. It's a dead channel. Static. Except it's not. It's a smugglers channel. Code hidden under static."

Dox gesticulated with her hands as she talked. "And THIS isn't dead space, Commander! It's the location of the Aehallh station. It's a cloaked Romulan smuggling station. My mother and I were there... half a dozen times. That's where the Captain's mother was going when this was recorded."

"All right... setting aside the fact that there's a cloaked Romulan smuggling station out there..." Even in an investigation, Rita Paris was still keeping one eye on her duty. "Smuggler channel, smuggler destination. Still just puzzle pieces that don't connect to anything. Think, old lady, think..." Pacing past a few of the other stations, Rita scanned the reports, hunting for a clue to make the information they had gleaned make sense before returning to the comm panel.

Trying to follow along, Dox was listening intently and watching what Rita was doing as the throwback First Officer worked, calling up information at the Communications Station that she manipulated like she was born to it. "There has to be something here... ."

Dox cricked an eyebrow for a moment. "Commander..." the former Smuggler turned Starfleet Officer pointed at a sequence of numbers on the console display. "What's that?"

"That's the transceiver code of the other party..." Paris explained absently as she attempted to approach the problem from another angle. "Think of it as an identifier tag on communications, so that if you had multiple parties on a frequency you could identify them all individually. It may be a few too many years since I've manned this console or the future is a bit different, but I don't recognize that transceiver code. It's definitely not Starfleet, I know that much..."

Leaning over Paris's shoulder with one hand on the back of her seat and the other on the console, Dox stared at the sequence of numbers, her mind struggling to make the connection that was itching at the back of her mind. After a few seconds, a slight smile crept up on her cheeks. "Commander, It's not you or the console. It's NOT Starfleet for sure. And it's not Artan."

Standing back upright, Dox ran a finger across her chin as she talked. "I might be wrong as I've not seen these codes in years, but that 6 digit prefix at the beginning of the code... that's an Orion Syndicate prefix. When I was a kid, my orders from my Mother were to go silent and go the other way if we got too near any ship communicating on those frequencies."

"Ahaaa... well, that's definitely another piece of the puzzle. So this isn't admissible as evidence per se, but it might just lead us somewhere. We already knew she was communicating with the Syndicate and here we have more evidence of that. Let's see..." Paris poked at the rocker switches and turned a dial or two. "I can't pinpoint the location without the panel being active... let's see what Science and Intel came up with." Shifting her attention to the reports hovering over the station, Paris scanned for more clues.

"It's not admissible in a Federation court, but it's proof she's at least communicating with the syndicate." Dox added. "This could give the Captain serious leverage in the tribunal for sure. Maybe the investigation teams got us some audio or text communication. Even a snippet could be something to go on."

"We'll have to send a message to the Syndicate away team to be on the lookout for comm logs- if we could get a copy of the datafile from the Syndicate end, that could definitely clinch it," Paris turned to grin at the former smuggler turned Starfleet pilot. "Good work, Miss Dox."

Blushing a slight bit green, Dox smiled lightly back. "Thank you, Commander. I just hope it bears fruit. Perhaps convey to them to look at the Aehallh station. It's where the Captain's Mother was heading when she was talking to the Syndicate and it's exactly the kind of place one would go to have a very private meeting. My mother knows the coordinates."

"I'll send the message out as soon as we're done," Paris promised. "Shall we finish the inspection here to see if we can make any more connections that might help our away teams?"

Nodding, Dox replied confidently. "Aye, Commander. Let's see what we can see."

"So do we check out a shuttle? You know where the suspect is and where we have to go to pick him up, right?" As they stood in shuttlebay 2, the grav gurney bearing the victim, one Rafael Paulson slid past the hulking faithful security officer and the cybernetic pirate engaged to a god.

"Commander said I'm with you, so that means you know where we're going? I gotta grab a few things before we go, so where should we reconnoiter?" Petty Officer Second Class Ethel Jablonski was apparently ready for the mission, easily accepting that the civilian was there to get her to the murder suspect the command wanted picked up.

"Ja... Mein ship is... Broken, at the moment. So we will need to borrow one." Schwein reached behind her for a PaDD, then realized both of the ones she normally carried were now gone, crumbled scraps now likely in a recycler. "Ah... I need to get a few things as well. We will meet in the main shuttle hanger control room in twenty minutes, ja? We will check out a craft from there. I recommend bringing a melee weapon, just in case."

"Waaaaay ahead of ya," Jablonski replied as she lumbered off at a military clip.

Meeting in the shuttle bay twenty minutes later, Jablonski was carrying a case in each hand that were nearly the size she was, without any seeming exertion. "Okay, so since we need flexibility, I was thinking runabout. But I'm not really a great pilot, y'know? You any good?"

"Wunderbar!" the shorter platinum haired pirate started off, tapping her chest, a coffin shaped case as big as her strapped to her back. Then she thought better of it. "However... I have been having trouble controlling my increase in strength recently... We should request a pilot as well, ja? Otherwise... The controls may suffer... Accidental destruction..." Schwein looked rather sheepish as she said this and seeing Jablonski run up with twice the luggage she had did not inspire confidence in her ability to keep one of the Hera's support craft from being crumbled like a tin can between the two of them.

"Yeah, I kinda broke my sonic shower controls last week because I wasn't careful... okay, yeah, requisition a pilot." Setting the cases down with a pair of thuds, the wall in a gold tunic stepped over to one of the enlisted. "Hey, who's the officer on deck? I need to requisition a pilot and a runabout, pronto, Commander's orders."

Checking the computer at the dockmasters station, the young enlisted man answered groggily, which was understandable as it was barely after 03:30 hours. "Uh... Lemme see. Okay, that would be... Ensign Weiaex. And the Runabout Selune is on deck."

As he was talking, Jablonski watched the young enlisted man calling up files. "Yeah... ohmygod... Okay, here's the order from Commander Paris to accommodate your needs immediately." Suddenly, they were far more awake sounding. "Okay. Just put the orders in... Ensign Weiaex should be on her way to the Main Flight Deck. The Selune will be fueled and ready in five minutes."

"Good, good. So which one is the Selune?" the petty officer asked, and the ring set in the floor of the flight deck indicating the landing pad lit up beneath the sleek stealth runabout. "Oh... good. Okay, uh... what do I call you, anyway, eh? You don't have Starfleet rank, you're a civilian asset, right?"

As she spoke, Jablonski was picking up her two cases, clearly preparing to load up the runabout for the mission.

"THAT... is Crewman Steven Cho. And I'm Ensign Weiaex." From the corridor, striding in smoothly on her three long legs was a tall Edosian woman in a crimson uniform. One of the three hands was pointing at the much more awake crewmember while one of the other hands was open as if she was presenting herself. The third center hand was coming forward to offer itself for a handshake.

"Hey, Stevie." The sleek, orange skinned Edosian cocked her head to the side, flipping back a lock of mid length cream colored hair that grew from beneath the segments in her exoskeletal skin. Quickly, her large almond shaped eyes fixed back on Jablonski. "Well, your hands are a little full so..." Pulling back, she shot a quick but slightly irreverent salute to the mountain of a security officer.

Gesturing wildly with her three hands as she spoke quickly, the newcomer kept talking. "Got here as quick as I got the order. Been up and dressed since the klaxons went off a little while ago. So, you're security? You look like security. You look like most of the security team. Do we need a team with you around?" Her manner was light and perhaps a bit overly friendly as her hands gestured to indicate just how big Jablonski was.

"Annnyway, you need a pilot so here I am..." As she spoke, she glanced at the rank mark on Jablonski's gold uniform, "Petty Officeeeeerrr?"

Schwein's heart sank as she heard the voice of the Edosian pilot. She had forgotten they had one of the more talkative types in the flight department and for a moment, she wished Dox was going with them instead if for nothing more than for the silence. Stepping out from behind her partner so she could be seen, she introduced them. "This is Petty Officer, Second Class Ethel Jablonski. I am Baroness, Second Class Schwein von Alcott. We will be going to the holdings of Baroness, Third Class Sienae Nei'rrh to question a suspect. We expect... Trouble... Ja?"

"Ooh, trouble. So, not just a pleasure cruise, I got you." The Edosian's voice was slightly nasal, high pitched and a little shrill and she kept talking. "Well, pleasure to meet you Petty Officer Jablonski and Baroness von Alcott. Baroness, that sounds fancy. If you don't mind my saying, you look fancy. But, you know, fancy in that I can still mess you up kind of way."

As she spoke, she clapped two of her hands while pointing at he waiting Runabout. "She should be prepped and read, let's get this portable ass whupping under way. I don't know who this other Baroness is, but I'm suddenly feeling just a smidge sorry for her if the Captain is sending you two after her. I'm not much of a fighter, but I'm a fully rated pilot and I know my share of fancy flying moves if we get into it in space, so no worries ladies."

Unperturbed by the flurry of communication, Jablonski turned back to the Baroness to reiterate the question she had asked which had been derailed. "So I call you what, Baroness? Alcott?"

"Ah, yes..." Schwein grinned in that piratical way of hers as they headed over to the Selune. "Officially, Baroness. Schwein is enough in private, but whatever is comfortable, ja?"

"Baroness works for me. You can just call me Jablonski, we don't need to work with rank between us," the broad-shouldered security officer explained as she strode toward the Selune. Apparently, she was assuming everyone was keeping up with her, as she began briefing the pilot.

"Okay sir, the mission is to locate and detain a suspect in a murder investigation. Baroness here knows where we can find the suspect and identify him, so we'll be going in to do that. You're here because neither of us is a very good pilot, and better we have the getaway vehicle warmed up and ready in case we need to get out under fire. We're headed for the... uh, where are we going, Baroness?" The hulking petty officer paused her briefing to consult the silver-tressed buccaneer.

"There is a small station just outside the Kabul system that is the holdings of the Baroness in question, and the person in question is reported to regularly be there," Schwein replied.

"Good, good... so you got coordinates, Ensign Weiaex, and you just keep the ship safe while me and the civilian handle the rough stuff. That okay with you, sir?" Jablonski asked as she loaded her cases into the runabout, then held out her hands for the Baroness' case on her back.

The Edosian pilot stepped smoothly past the pair onto the runabout, lightly cracking the knuckles on two of her hands while waving them on with the third as she slid into the pilot's seat. "That sounds like a plan. I'll run the pre-flight check, punch in those coordinates and we can put some ions behind us."

Schwein handed off her case which literally had her entire arms and armor in it and headed to the cockpit to gingerly tap in the coordinates, hopefully without breaking anything. As for Jablonski, she settled down on the floor, as the chairs were a bit insufficient for her mass these days. Settling in, she waited for the runabout to get underway before she started breaking out and checking the gear.

"Okay..." Ensign Weiaex said from the helm, "All systems are looking good. Coordinates are set and the dockmaster has cleared us for launch. We're off, ladies." As she spoke, her hands were a flurry of activity, running over the console with dazzling dexterity. The Runabout lifted gently from the deck and cleared the Hera moments later. "We're all set and clear. Engaging maximum warp. Let's not keep your suspect waiting." With the press of a few buttons, the Selune vanished in a streak of blue light and a flash.

As the journey passed, Jablonski took the time to review her armor, which she had packed just in case, the weaponry she had brought along, and the few bladed weapons that were in the cases. As she broke down the three rifles she had brought and put them back together, she made casual conversation with the Baroness.

"I'm thinking we'll go in plainclothes and see if they wanna play nice- no sidearms, no visible weaponry, no hard points. If they cooperate, good- we'll take our perp and leave. If not, then I'm thinking we'll leave peaceably and let them think they scared us off." The large lass grinned at that, as she slapped the dense clip back into the TR-116C she was working on. "Then we'll lock and load and come back fully geared up to make a mess. That work for you, Baroness?"

"Nein... They know all too well who I am." Schwein sat down in front of her own case and cracked it open, checking over her own gear as well. "I suggest going in with minimal weaponry just to ask questions and if they resist... Then we get rough, ja?"

"Ahhh, so no second round comeback then, huh? Okie doke. We go in ready for resistance, then. You're the native here, and the Commander assigned you to this before she tagged me for this duty, so I'll follow your lead. So long as we stick to Starfleet protocol for the arrest. That work for you?" Jablonski was remarkably easygoing as she held the reassembled rifle in her right hand, and it promptly vanished from sight.

"Ja..." As she saw the rifle simply vanish, Schwein had to do a double take. "Hurensohn... Amazon tech?"

"Yeah, Commander has me testing them out for the Sec/Tac crew. They're kinda nifty, doncha know?" the big girl grinned like a kid with a new toy, rolling back her uniform sleeve to reveal the edge of a bronze bracer beneath it. "On a mission like this, I can look unarmed, since they weapons are all stored in a... I dunno what they call it, but I got a lotta holding capacity in there. Apparently Hera's old honor guard used to wear 'em so command wants to see if they work out okay. Sounds like this mission should be a good field test. I wonder if that's why they sent me?"

"Possibly. Plus if something goes wrong, they know you can hold your own even in the worst of fights and your strength seems to be a good match for mein." As she talked, Schwein was gearing up with her short swords and phasers. "Since the Commander wants this to be a Starfleet operation, I will handle the pirates, but I will let you handle questioning and arrest protocol, ja?"

"Was kinda hoping you'd say that. You be the mouth and I'll be the muscle, right?" Grinning at the pirate, the easygoing bodybuilder turned to address the pilot. "Ensign Weiaex, what's our ETA to the LZ?"

From the helm, the uncharacteristically quiet pilot turned slightly, "At current speed, we will be arriving in t-minus 14 minutes, petty officer. Are we doing this all official, asking for permission to dock and stuff?"

Schwein nodded as she strapped yet another weapon to herself, knowing that announcing their entry like that would likely make things harder. "Ja... This is official."

"You're strapping on harder than I thought... think I oughta suit up, or is that just gonna make this go even harder?" Jablonski was clearly operating on the understanding that this would be a violent affair and had no trouble with that. Rising from the floor, she produced an archaic hand phaser to hand over to the pilot. "You'll need a holdout weapon, ma'am."

Schwein grinned as she slipped one last knife into her boot."That depends on how they greet us at the door. If they don't let us dock, we suit up and make an entrance. If they do... We try to negotiate peacefully."

"My job is to protect. While you're on this mission, that includes you, the Ensign and the runabout... and all of those Federation citizens we'll be interacting with out there. So peacefully is how I'd prefer it. But..." the slab of muscle on the floor shrugged those broad shoulders, looked around and lowered her voice conspiratorially, despite the fact that Weiaex was two meters away.

"I gotta admit, I do kinda hope they pick the hard way. It'd be a relief to get the chance to cut loose against something other than weights and the holodeck. I can't even spar anymore. I had to turn the augmentors off in my EVA armor because I kept jamming the servos." The farm girl from Cestes IV had no idea why she was confessing to the silver-tressed civilian, save that she'd seen the pretty pirate accidentally shatter a few PaDDs easier than even she could.

The platinum-tressed Baroness leaned in conspiratorially. "I will send you the specifications to my armor, ja? It is designed for... Augmented humans..." With wink, she easily pulled out the gold and black torso piece of her armor suit and slapped the helmet controls, the large skull painted dome sliding into place and sealing up even without someone in it. Thankfully, the poly-duranium composites withstood the mild abuse easily, even from the much stronger augmented human. "No servos, armored joints, same material as a starship hull. Not even Freya could get through it easily."

"I'm starting to realize why the Commander sent a civilian along," the security officer said with a grin, then offered her hand for a clasping greeting between warriors. "I'm Ethel Jablonski. Hera's honor guard, Security, USS Hera."

Schwein grinned wider, returning the clasping greeting. "Schwein von Alcott, Princess Telvan's Adjutant, Thor's betrothed. It is an honor to fight alongside you."

"Ohhh my golly, that was you?" Jablonski's small brown eyes lit up, and feeling a connection with the pirate, her mouth engaged a bit before her brain. "Scuttlebutt was that the last chief, French, had nailed the god of thunder in a threesome but it like, addled her brain and drove her boyfriend nuts, so he went on a killing spree."

Realizing how what had come spilling out might have not been in the best of taste, the hulking security officer tried to turn the conversation more toward what the expected response was more likely to be. "So, betrothed, eh? Nice, nice, good on ya. Thor... so he really exists too, huh? So when you marry him do you get a hammer, too, how's that work in mixed marriages with gods?"

Schwein did her best to ignore the first part and focus on the second. "Ah... I do not know yet, actually... If I receive a weapon, I hope it is a zweihander." She then blushed bright red, realizing the double entendre she had just walked into.

At that, Jablonski giggle-snorted like a nine-year-old. Rolling to her feet, the non-commissioned officer stepped in behind the pilot, one hand resting on the back of the pilot's chair. "Well, let's see what kinda reception these fine citizens of the Federation have planned for us today, shall we?"

"Well, you two are the girls I want to have with me at the next part I go to, that's for sure." The Edosian pilot called back over her shoulder. "Dropping out of warp now and... Yeah, saw that coming. Two seconds in their space and we have a pissy identity confirmation request. Okay."

Flipping the comm switch, the energetic, three armed pilot put on her best 'professional' sounding voice. "This is the Federation Runabout Selune, registry NCC-79010-2, Requesting permission to dock."

"State yer business, Starfleet," came the reply from the station.

Leaning over the tripodal pilot, the security officer nodded for her acquiescence, then tabbed the comm and spoke up. "We're in pursuit of a murder suspect we believe to be aboard. We'd appreciate your cooperation in our investigation on behalf of the United Federation of Planets."

It was not only a textbook response, Jablonski was literally reading it off a PaDD.

The response came back after a few seconds, the voice drawling out almost lazily, the largest of the double doors on the station slowly starting to open. "I'm clearing you to dock in the main hanger. If you give us a name of who you'd like to question, we can have them escorted to ya..."

"I don't think so. Trap?" Jablonski asked the Baroness point blank.

Schwein flipped up her eyepatch and studied the opening hangar bay for a moment before the outer door cleared enough for her to realize what was about to happen. "It's a trap! Evasive maneuvers! Schnell!"

She had just barely caught the hint of the buildup of energy in the massive disruptor platform they were flying right into that the doors were just now clearing. It looked big enough to have been a main cannon array from a Klingon starbase and the glowing green emitter bigger than the Selune was definitely not a friendly way to greet someone.

Her three hands flew over the controls frantically as Ensign Weiaex pulled the nose of the Selune up and slammed on the thrusters to bring the runabout up and over the hanger door just as a massive burst of energy streaked under them. "'Evasive' is right!

The Runabout shuttered hard as the blast raked the bottom of the Runabouts shields and the small craft was knocked end over end for a moment until the multi-limbed pilot could right the ship. "Well, these are very unfriendly folks who clearly ain't in a talky mood. Maneuvering us over the top out of range of their arrays. They'd shoot themselves trying to tag us here. Oh, and there's another fun perk, ladies."

Ensign Weiaex cocked her head over her shoulder with a smirk. "In order to try and trick us into flying into their big gun, they let us INSIDE their shields."

"Then we armor up and show them the principals of blitzkrieg," the platinum haired Baroness replied with a grin, picking up her armor and slapping it on, the main suit piece sealing around her like some sort of Ironman suit with the arm and leg pieces magnetically pulling towards her to do the same.

Tossing the case with her armor into the transporter, Jablonski pulled out a datacard and scanned it, then beamed the armor out. Stepping into the transporter, she waited five seconds before the armor was beamed onto her large muscular form, and when she stepped out, she immediately fell to opening the other case as her armor case materialized in the transporter behind her. “Alcott, you know the terrain. What’s our best approach to get inside and start tearing this place apart? Can they launch fighters? Do we need to get the runabout clear?"

Even as she spoke, Jablonski was hefting one of the assault rifles onto a hard point on her shoulder where is plugged in and sprang to life, even as she pulled out a squarish drum that looked suspiciously like a micro missile launcher.

Schwein grinned wider as she cycled a pair of phasers at her forearms and pulled free her claymore. "Ja, but the whole of them should be no match for the Selune and Ensign Weiaex. If we transport to ancillary power control, we should be able to take them by surprise, shut down the station, and from there, station control is two decks away at the bottom of the station."

"Oh, no pressure! Okay, we're inside their shields so I can beam you literally anywhere inside. I'll deal with the fighters once they find us and... well crap." Ensign Weiaex smirked from the helm as the console lit up. "As if on cue, we've got three small fighters coming around from below the station. ETA is very fast. Beam out now while the beaming is good and you two go have fun stormin' the castle."

Grabbing a hard case of mines to snap magnetically to her left thigh, Petty Officer Second Class Ethel Jablonski grinned at the Baroness Schwein von Alcott. Grabbing and setting a standard type 3 phaser rifle almost as a sidearm, she slid the power setting up on the weapon and turned to stand to in the transporter. Busily she was rearranging her HUDs, because she hadn't preplanned for the loadout she'd requisitioned.

"The suspect is currently resisting arrest, as well as kinda having committed attempted murder on, like, Federation citizens and a Starfleet officer over there. It kinda looks like use of force will be necessary to, ah, bring 'em in."

"Energize," she said from behind the hard shell of her EVA armor's transparent aluminum polymer-coated refractory helmet.

From the helm, the Edosian pilot ran her fingers up the three strips of light that activated the transporter, and in a shimmering wave of silvery/blue lights, the two armor clad warrior-women we're gone. "Heh. I almost feel sorry for those guys down there."

"Almost."

The fleet had assigned an assistant to the chief of Security of the USS Hera, which was, given the circumstances, something of a bother for said chief- or perhaps an opportunity.

With the pending Tribunal, an archaic rite amongst space pirates, apparently, there came some courtly votes and challenges and decisions. Which might be all well and fine were it not for the Captain being involved, which meant the Hera was thus unavoidably entangled in it all. Which might in and of itself not be so bad. were it not for the fact that, while privateers who preyed on other pirates, they were still sneaky, underhanded, lying, thieving pirates. Which meant that multiple machinations and manipulations and plans and schemes arrayed against the Captain and various members of the crew had been in motion for some time now. Therefore it would come as no surprise to anyone that Rita Paris was a touch more paranoid than normal.

In point of fact, when it came to new crew members, she was already surprisingly paranoid. Of course, that often seemed less unhealthy suspicion and more jurisprudence when it came to a number of the two-legged disasters she'd steered clear of the USS Hera. She'd be telling her grandchildren about the time she'd caught a Changeling impersonating a senior master chief- one who didn't know military etiquette.

This immediate moment, she was waiting for the shuttle bearing one Lieutenant Junior Grade Alex Strider. Who, if his service jacket was to be believed, was far, far too impressive an individual to be working in SEC/TAC. Which scored him a few extra points that aroused the fulsome first officer's suspicions just a bit more. Mastery of six martial arts meant that despite his slight frame, he was very dangerous.

Hell, he didn't even bother listing Academy Judo as one of his mastered martial arts in his service jacket.

As always, she'd approach with optimism and see how it played out. After all, apparently for fun after the Vulcan Science Academy for a few doctorates he got a doctorate from Harvard as a psychologist, making him arguably more qualified than the ship's counselor. So in theory he would be one of the greatest minds of the age. A veritable wonder boy who was in truth an ancient.

Of course, Rita had met a few of those that didn't impress her much.

As the sleek Type 15 shuttle grew larger by the second, the lost navigator waited to see what the universe would deliver to her doorstep this time.

Which was when the shuttlecraft augered in as if someone was fighting the controls, and exploded into a fireball just before it entered the forcefield of the flight deck.

As the shockwave rolled across the deck, the mighty Hera shuddered, rocked by the explosion, but she was unbowed. Slapping her comm badge, Commander Rita Paris began barking orders, getting fire and damage control teams mobilized, scanners searching for more survivors, and more potential attackers.

There were no survivors, but no casualties other than the pilot, one Lieutenant Marston, the atmospheric systems engineer Chief C'huk and Lieutenant Junior Grade Alex Strider. As the black box was retrieved and the data analyzed, it would come out that Lieutenant Marston had apparently had a psychotic break and shot both Chief C'huk and Lieutenant Junior Grade Strider. The mortally wounded Strider was struggling with Marston for control of the vessel, which Marston planned to use to use as a suicide bomber on the Hera. As his last act, Lieutenant Junior Grade Alex Strider managed to use his Security override to self-destruct the Shuttlecraft Ghidora.

As the investigation played out, he would be awarded the Starfleet Medal of Valor, for sacrificing himself to save the crew of a vessel upon which he had never set foot. Yet his name would be immortalized alongside her honored dead, as one of their own.

What drove Lietenant Marston, an otherwise exeplary officer, to do such a thing remained a mystery. There was nothing to indicate why or how.

No proof.

But in the gits of Rita Paris, she knew exactly who had gotten to the Lieutenant, and why. She could prove nothing, but she still knew with the surety that guided her every step, that it had been yet another assault on the USS Hera from one Arenara Artan.

Another crime she'd be called to task for before this Tribunal was through, if Rita Paris had anything to say about it.

And she would most certainly have her say.

"The suspect is currently resisting arrest, as well as kinda having committed attempted murder on, like, Federation citizens and a Starfleet officer over there. It kinda looks like use of force will be necessary to, ah, bring 'em in."

"Energize."

Materializing inside ancillary power control, a dozen pirate crewmen were taken quite by surprise by the appearance of the armored juggernaut and the space pirate. In three rapid autofire shots, the room filled with tear gas and smoke. The wide beam on the phaser rifle was visible in the smoke as it cut a swath through the room, dropping four stunned men.

The other eight never stood a chance as the golden armored pirate swept them aside with the flat side of her claymore, easily tossing three of them into a wall one handed as her other hand scythed out and fired stun bolts with her wrist phaser at the remaining pirates. Her cybernetic eye and the minimalistic sensors in the armor she wore were far less advanced than the one that her Starfleet friend wore, but she had years of boarding combat experience and this was where she shined.

Glancing across the systems panels, Schwein found the controls she needed - in Ferengi, of course, because why not? These were cobbled together systems, after all. Carefully tapping the control surfaces, she transferred control to these stations and...

She pressed too hard and her finger went right through the screen...

Alarms started to blare.

Schwein turned back to her larger Starfleet counterpart. "I have good news and bad news... Good news is station power control is here. Bad news is I accidentally broke the console that controls it. Also, I may have tripped the alarms."

With a grunt, Jablonski studied the local scans. "We've got a number of hostiles converging on this position. D'ya think we go EVA to go around them, or do we go through them? I still haven't ID'd our suspect yet." As she spoke, the Security officer shifted the phaser rifle to her left hand and reviewed the console, which confirmed the Baroness' report.

"Station's still got power and there are dozens of personnel headed this way. Me, I'm thinking we're here, we may as well rout 'em. We're the only friendlies here, so we may as well see who's got outstanding warrants. My system says three of these guys are wanted..." As she spoke, a hatch opened and disruptor fire cut short any further discussion as the angry pirates began to assault the secondary power control station.

"If they fly the Artan colors, they are protected for now... If not... Fair game." As she spoke, Schwein stabbed her claymore through the console a couple more times to see if that would disable at least some of the power, which luckily, it did. Main power kicked off and emergency power kicked on, leaving the station with minimal gravity, emergency lighting, life support on two thirds of the station, and little else according to the backup readouts, which for some reason were in Cardassian.

"That should keep them busy, ja? Let us wreck some scheisse." Schwein sounded more than thrilled as the red glow of the emergency lights made her gold and black skull painted armor look even more sinister. Grabbing one of the now shattered displays, she ripped it from its station and hurled it past the head of one of the pirates firing at them, embedding it in the wall behind him. "Tch... I missed..."

"I'm not a fan of getting shot at," Jablonski declared as disruptor bolts whizzed past them. Swapping the phaser rifle over to her right hand again, the Security officer flexed her right forearm and the weapon disappeared. Flexing it again and curling her hand, a rather large and brutal-looking studded mace appeared in her hand, one that would need two hands for a normal humanoid to wield. Flexing her left forearm, a round bluish energy shield covered in Greek writing sprang into place on her forearm that was as wide as her shoulders. "Praise Hera. What do you say we try something a little different?"

The mounting number of piratical personnel who were gathering in the hallway were just considering beginning their assault, as there was no return fire coming from the pinned-down intruders. Which was when a rather large mass of muscle behind a round energy shield that deflected the disruptor bolts came hurtling toward them, as if fired from a torpedo tube. As the armored leviathan crashed into and bowled over the front ranks, she became a mass in motion, the large crude mace scattering her foes like tenpins even as behind her a jolly pirate followed the humanoid missile she'd hurled, and the battle was suddenly joined in the narrow corridor.

What had been a gunfight a few seconds ago was now a very close quarters battle, which caught the score of pirates quite unprepared.

Close on the heels of Jablonski was a very happy Schwein, having pulled out a slightly used cudgel from seemingly nowhere and was now swinging it almost casually, tossing the pirates that had not been bowled over aside like flimsiplast in a gale storm. Through that storm you could hear the joyous laughter of a certain platinum haired pirate.

By the time the reinforcements arrived, they were met at the hatch by it being blown inward, even as the demolition duo stepped in to blistering disruptor fire. Which might have been more devastating were it not for the fact that the hatch itself was quite suddenly torn from its hinges, and then employed as a shield by the enhanced individual who was seeing just what could be reached for were she to try.

"Well, this is lotsa fun I gotta say, but we should probably get down to the command center, eh? You wanna find the lift, or just make our own hatchway through the deck?" Jablonski asked casually as she grabbed a pirate by the ankle, and casually flung him at one who was trying to flank them.

Schwein pointed off down the corridor towards a curved doorway. "Ja. The lift is up ahead and without power, we should be able to drop straight down." She then picked up another pirate and drop-kicked him back into the control room they had just left. "Does this count as excessive force? We are outnumbered ah... twelve hundred to two... It is hardly fair odds."

"Well, we really haven't been shooting up the station," A micromissile ejected from Jablonski's shoulder launcher, swirling off on it's column of smoke to interceptr a sneaky pirate with a rocket launcher. "So, y'know, me personally and professionally, I'm thinkin' since the majority of these guys'll live, sooo..."

"Nah, so far I'm thinking we're still within the boundaries of acceptable force." With that said, the captain of Hera's honor guard slung the hatch down the corridor, scattering men who were only grazed by it to receive terrible injury. Activating her force shield once more, she configured it to the size and shape of a large scutum shield to provide cover for the Baroness and herself. As Big Ethel almost casually strolled toward the circular open chamber which held the lift, into which more troops continued to pour, Disruptor bolts whizzed by, even as grenades began bouncing down the corridor. Gifts from their increasingly desperate opponents.

"Well said, my friend," Schwein replied as she ripped one of the wall panels free and used it as a shield for their rear and lobbing a couple of stun grenades off down a group of pirates that were pouring out of the other end of the corridor. The pair of flash-bangs and stun fields scattered them and those that didn't get far enough away lay there twitching.

Flexing her forearm, the Petty Officer Second class activated her external speakers, even as she flexed her right forearm, making a flipping motion with her hand, and the mace vanished. Flexing it again, her fingers spread in a wide grip and into them settled a TR-116C. Programming it, she handed it over to the pirate even as another manifested in Jablonski's right hand.

"If it breathes, we can choke it. If it stuns, let it be stunned. On 3, rush and cover... 1... 2... 3!"

"Wunderbar!" The Baroness charged down the hall, knocking several people aside as she barreled past and into the lift, pretending to take cover behind one of the edges as she tossed the one pirate left in it out and fired back out at the ones left in the hall, the flash-bangs bouncing almost lazily for a few seconds before going off.

Then with a series of 'CHOONT!' sounds, the central column of the station filled with thick, cloying gas that would begin to circulate through the station, which would provide an irritant for months to anyone passing through the station. For now, it filled the area and covered Jablonski's somewhat plodding gait, little more than a double-time. Large and strong she was, but so too was she slow. A missile streaked off into the fog while concussions preceded her, and the turret on her left shoulder pivoted and fired a burst into the fog and two men cried out.

Slamming into the elevator, Jablonski bounced back to interpose her shield to the elevator doors as they closed. "I almost never get to do this sort of police work. It is really fun doin' it with somebody who can keep up, yannow? Whatta you say, fakeout for the guys waiting at the control center in ambush?"

"That may give them time to prepare a surprise of their own. It may be best to stick with blitz maneuvers and put them all into the lift, ja?" The Baroness wanted to make sure they had enough time to get whatever they needed from the computer and hopefully find the guy they needed before they decided to do something a bit drastic.

"Ahhh, okay. Full volley of smoke and tears, follow with the flash-bangs. Then we'll see what surprises they've come up with since they know we're coming?" Swapping the TR-116C to her left hand, Jablonski snapped into reality the phaser rifle with her right hand. "These things really are just soooo amazing. I am writing SUCH an amazing report on these when this is over."

As the lift dinged and the doors slid open, grenades began launching with remarkable precision into the central command center, followed by a series of flash-bangs as the duo stepped into the command center.

Schwein headed straight for the commander who was a bit stunned at the moment. "We are here for... Hey... Wake up..." Poking the man with the barrel of her rifle, she rolled his twitching form over to reveal that he had been hit in the chest with one of the stun grenades directly. "He will not be of help..."

"Do you feel confident in pulling data from the computer without breaking it?" the gold and black armored pirate asked her companion.

“Oh for sure. I’m strong, but not ‘accidentally put my finger through plasteel’ strong like you,” Jablonski fired of a series of bursts, rubber bullets peppering the personnel in the command center even as she moved casually into the command deck. “How’d you get so- drop it, you little freak!”

The petty officer issued the warning not even a full second before she fired a burst of stun grenades, peppering the man in the chest and bruising him into unconsciousness, the disruptor he had been fumbling with clattering noisily to the deck. Firing off a few more rounds of tear gas into the enclosed area, Jablonski then extruded a data cable and plugged into the command console.

“I’m not the smartest body on the bench, but the software in these suits is plenty smart,” the powerful petty officer explained as she initiated the break-in process for the computers. “How about I’ll get to work on this, while you set up for our defense… this might take a few minutes, and I tend to think they’re going to send troops that can actually deal with us now that they know we’re here. Or at least, some wearing portable atmo at the very least.” With that said, Jablonski sought partial cover behind a console, and as the security software began granting her access, she sealed all the hatches in or out of the command center to buy them time.

"Well, I'm an augmented human..." Schwein paused for a moment to pick up the commander, rip one of the railings out of place and wrap it around the man as a restraint. "And then I started making love with the God of Thunder..." She then picked up a couple of the others and made sure they were out cold before kicking in a ventilation duct so she could just stuff everyone into it. "Herr Doctor and I think that that is why my strength is increasing.”

“God of Thunder, huh? Nice,” Jablonski casually agreed. “Thinking at this rate I’m gonna get engaged to the mag-lift bar here pretty soon. Best date I been on in a while,” she added with a throaty chuckle. “I was curious how you got so over the top, but I wasn’t gonna ask. Seemed rude, doncha know. Hey!”

As one of the override panels came online, a concussion grenade launched from Jablonski’s shoulder with a ‘phoont!’ and exploded the panel into pieces. “Yep, they are not so fond of us in this neighborhood, Miss Alcott. I still got at least another three or four minutes of digging and downloading here, so we’ll have to stay put. Thunder god, huh? I don’t suppose he’s got a brother or a sister…?”

"I think his brother, the Asgardian Trickster god, is in prison for some reason," Schwein replied as she finished stuffing the unconscious command deck crew into the air vents. She then headed back over to the commander to see if he was going to come around. "I could hook you up with one of the Valkyries. Hildr looked like she had your kind of appetites. She is also a bit bigger than you, I think."

“Well, now that sounds like a challenge right there,” Jablonski grinned as she reeled out the data cable so she could move about, and she swapped out the rifle in her hands for a retro Type 2 phaser. Adjusting the beam and strength, she began welding the lift doors shut. “I didn’t think they grew them bigger than me. That’s kinda funny. Probably not the little brother in jail, though… I’m kind of a stickler for the rules, so maybe not the best of matches, doncha know.”

As she made casual small talk, the beefy behemoth was doing a respectable job of phaser welding, indicating that clearly she was both practiced and skilled with the hand weapon that was nearly completely dwarfed by her large hands.

Which was when thuds and vibrations began to be heard on the other side of the lift doors, as well as the overhead.

“Guess they aren’t so happy about being locked out, eh?”” Jablonski quipped, even as she checked the timer on the data spool. “Still another three minutes at least. How long you figure til they get serious about getting in here… they’ve been trying to isolate the command center datastream but this software in here is pretty sturdy, and it seems to be handling it just fine. I’m just worried they’re gonna vent the compartment and kill alla their own guys. So, I got sent out with you as the only way to ID my suspect… any idea how to find him?”

"I have been scanning for him with mein eye und there is no trace of him on the lower six decks. Internal sensors are down. Ze computer may know but I suspect he is not herby their reaction." Schwein headed over to the library computer systems and picked one of the side terminals for her search, very lightly tapping in the name of their suspect, only lightly cracking the screen as she did so.

As the data came up, it listed him as deceased. "Ethel... We have a problem... Theran T'Werska died in the Dre'lax mining attack. I think this whole thing is a trap. Unfortunate for them that it was us that sprung it, ja?"

Thinking it over a moment longer, Schwein came to a conclusion. "Either this record is false and Theran is alive... Or there is other proof they do not want us to have... They listed his location as here and laid a trap, which means that what we need is indeed here..." Tapping at the console a bit more to investigate the records, she got ahead of herself and accidentally put her finger through it, which made her hang her head and sigh.

“You really gotta get some inertial dampener gloves or something,” Jablonski offered after seeing the pretty pirate’s difficulties. “So, let’s see… we’re downloading the station files, but I’m no analyst, so I wouldn’t know what to look for. The detective work isn’t really my strongest suit, doncha know. So..” The large lass considered for a moment.

“Procedure says that I need to positively ID my suspect. But if he really is dead, that’s one thing. If we think he faked his death and he’s still here, it’s another. There might be evidence here, but it’s just us and we’ve had to fight our way in and we’ll have to fight our way out. Jeez… I dunno…” the musclebound maiden was trying to walk through the procedures of how to handle this, but it wasn’t a situation that was covered by her training. “Darn. What would TJ Hooker do…?”

As she spoke, the lift door was now under assault by numerous energy weapons that made it clear that it wouldn’t last long. Absently, Jablonski picked up the small phaser from the console where she had set it down, adjusted the power setting and casually stunned the pirate peeking out from the matter reclamator.

“I guess if it’s a trap then it’s premeditated attempted murder and assault and all that, which means we’re still in the clear legally, but… darn it, I shoulda brought one of the smart girls for this. I don’t know what to do,” Jablonski admitted.

"I am smart too..." Schwein complained as she poked another console, trying to get some more data on their suspect. "If the evidence we need is in the database, we will have it soon. If it is the person, they are here hiding... And here he is..." Schwein pulled up the grey medical report. "Ja, he is listed as dead, but he had identity change surgeries here. He is now... Kai'ser Per'manente. Deck fourteen, crew quarters J-17." With that, she gave the panel a slap of success, shattering it and sending sparks flying.

“Let’s see, that means we’ve gotta go up a long ways… well, no trouble there.” Stepping toward the welded shut lift doors that were showing more and more sign of strain, Jablonski moved with a casual surety, placing a series of proximity mines that would make taking the command center back hell for the pirates, and likely demolish the command center in the process. Once she was satisfied, as disruptor bolts began penetrating the thick doors, she refocused her phaser, pointed it at the ceiling and carved out a large oval shape, large enough for her to fit through.

As the overhead plate clattered to the deck, the hulking honor guard captain smiled. Flicking her wrist to make the phaser vanish, Jablonski interlaced her fingers and cupped her hands, leaning forward slightly to give the baroness the run-up for boosting her up to the deck above.

Which she happily obliged, easily clearing the deck plating and punching through the deck plating above as she did so with her lightly used cudgel in hand. She then tore the hole she had made wide enough for her comrade to make it through as well, easily tearing the light metals of the old station. "Two for one deal, ja?" she joked, laughing it off.

"Hooooly smokes you're strong!" Jablonski exclaimed as she fired a cable up to the overhead above, then winched herself up the two decks they'd moved. Stepping around the twisted deck plates, she pushed on one experimentally. "Yeah, wow. I thought I was gettin' strong, but that was pretty impressive right there. Okie doke, so let's move, eh? This is fun and all but a lift'll get us there... quicker."

That was when Jablonski took a moment to pay attention to their surroundings. It appeared they'd entered into a gymnasium, which was something of a native terrain for the sturdy Amazon. There were a number of people staring at them- off-duty pirates who were using the gym for a workout. None of them were particularly armed, but a few seemed pretty interested in scampering off to the locker room.

"Yeah, we should go..."

"Ja... The lift is not far." Schwein headed off towards the main exit of the gym, not even bothering with the fleeing occupants. As she walked, she pushed workout machinery out of her way like so much clutter. "You work out every day, ja? I do combat training on the holodeck. Perhaps we could work out together some time."

“Oh, for sure!” Jablonski replied cheerfully as a pirate emerged from the locker room with a disruptor. Casually grabbing a barbell in passing, the cheerful colossus hurled it without even looking at the pirate, who ducked out of the way only for the unlikely missile to strike the man behind him. That bought them sufficient time to exit the gymnasium and enter the corridor, where a half dozen piratical passersby began drawing weapons.

“We really gonna do this?” Jablonski chuckled as her shoulder-mounted variable fire rocket pod and assault rifle bot whirred to train themselves on the pirates. “Cuz the refractory coating of this armor is gonna bounce those bolts, then I’m gonna shootcha. She’s just gonna dodge, but you’ll make her mad and she’ll putcha through a deckplate.”

No one seemed particularly interested in calling Jablonski’s bluff, which meant that they got to avoid hospitalization as they dropped or holstered their weapons.

"Wunderbar..." Schwein said as she almost casually sauntered over to the lift doors, running her fingers through the consoles built into the corridor walls as she did so. She then gingerly pressed the call button, cracking the screen as she did so. She could swear she saw one of the pirates piss themselves as they ran off. "They do not build stations like they used to, ja? So fragile..."

“Huhhh huhhh huhhhh!” Jablonski’s laugh was not unlike the braying of a mule, which likely explained why she seldom did so. “I think they weren’t built to stand up to you is the problem. Whoop, here comes a car full of hostiles, armed and armored. Wanna go bowling?” With that said, Jablonski flattened herself against the bulkhead to the side of the lift doors, motioning for the Baroness to do the same so they could surprise the emerging assault team as the lift doors opened.

"That fills me with schadenfreude..." Schwein mumbled happily as she got into position and waited for the doors to open.

As the lift arrived, the doors opened, and six commandos in cobbled-together EVA armor piled out into the hallway. Clearly they were bereft of the sensors installed in the Starfleet EVA armor, or even the medical tricorder that served as Schwein’s left eye. Because the simple act of hiding beside the lift doors fooled them as Ethel Jablonski shook her head and waded into them. Grabbing the closest one, she picked him up bodily then swung him in an arc behind her. Building up momentum, she proceeded to launch him across the deck like a bowling ball, scattering his comrades even as the duo stepped into the lift.

"Unless you wanted some melee?" the security officer asked obligingly of the space pirate.

"Nein, that was perfect. Danke..." The platinum tressed pirate was chuckling softly at how stunned they all looked as the two armored behemoths easily sidestepped them. "Deck fourteen, please. Artan override, seven alpha nein." As the turbolift started moving, Schwein broke out into full on laughter. "I have never had so much fun."

"I gotta admit, I know I'm on the job and supposed to be taking it seriously and all cuz I'm on duty, but I'm right there witcha. This is a good time... I like you, Schwein. You're a really okay gal for a pirate." The broad-shouldererd security officer smiled, a genuine smile with buck teeth and all, and the two shared a moment in the turbolift before her armor's sensors started offering telemetry. "Ahhh, look at that, welcome wagon waiting on Deck 14. You sure you don't wanna do the elevator fakeout?"

"Ja, it sounds like fun. What do you have in mind?" Schwein had that glint in her eye behind her armor's visor so she listened and when the doors opened, they'd be ready.

Thus, when the doors opened on Deck 14 and the assembled pirates were there, taking aim, fingers on triggers. prepared to eliminate the insertion team who had invaded and been all over the base. They were after somebody or something, and they'd be stopped here. Except of course that the doors opened and the car was empty.

There was some argument over whether this was the right car, although it wasn't going anywhere and the doors were remaining open. Eventually a pair of the pirates approached, looking in to find no one there. Except for a series of proximity mines that consequently exploded, deafening everyone in the area and stunning them. Great volumes of gas flooded out from the lift car before Jablonskli and von Alcott strolled casually out of the fog, firing flash-bang grenades as they moved.

"See? Climb through the escape hatch, mine it, jam the doors open so it won't go anywhere then climb the cables to get clear. The fireworks write themselves, and we just gas the scene and move in again." The Amazonian warrior casually fired a taser grenade without looking at a pirate who was leveling a heavy cannon at the pair. "Not sure, but we might have avoided any fatalities on this mission, though that one guy I went bowling with's neck looked a little bendy-wendy. Got a fix on our boy yet?"

"Ja, in the quarters listed, J-17. Life signs are a positive match, though I am reading odd power..." Schwein studied the readings her eye was picking up. It was designed as a basic bio-medical tricorder so she didn't have the sciencey stuff she needed to figure out more than that there was some power shenaniganry up ahead, but it was enough to tell them they might need to be on guard. "Can your suit get readings?"

Moving into the corridors, they were encountering more panicked personnel than actual combatants, and as a Bolian ran by in a hot pink towel, Jablonski was mostly sticking with the shock and awe tactics, gassing and stunning any resistance they encountered until behind them stepped a challenger.

"Schwein von Alcott, lapdog of Enalia Telven," the figure in the shadows declared in a mechanical echoing voice that reverberated unnaturally. As the figure stepped into the light, it was clear that there was significant cybernetic replacement involved with the speaker. "You've got the stink of Fleeters on you, and I can't say I care much for the company you keep. Fill your hand and face me, aye?"

Schwein groaned inwardly at the sound of the familiar voice. "If it isn't my old self styled rival... Uh... What was your name? Beta Bill?" She knew that getting Zeta Jones' name wrong on purpose would set him off, but she did it anyway in the hopes of trying to get this fight over faster. "Are you still flying with the... Uh... What was it? The Weasel Skunks?" As she spoke, she pulled out her claymore one handed and stowed the rest of her weaponry, casually getting ready to duel her old pain in the butt that augmented himself repeatedly just to match her strength and combat prowess. Jablonski accepted the return of the rifle, two handing it as she covered the ciorridor to free up the duel.

"It's the Beta-Ray Buccaneers, as you well know, Scwein," Jones drew his sword, a multifaceted crystalline cutlass that flared to life with an soft inner glow of amber. "I don't know what brought you here, or why you thought to bring a Fed with you, but you've no place here amongst honest pirates." The mechanical wrist rotated with a whirr, and Zeta Jones wove a beautiful pattern of traced light arcs with the blade.

"Face me at your own peril, house pet. I'm not the man you remember... not anymore. I've evolved beyond your limited comprehension," Jones mansplained as he settled into an en garde pose.

Schwein sighed heavily. If this were six months ago, he might have been able to best her, but now it was like he was moving at normal speed. She slipped her claymore back into its sheath on her back, pulled out her slightly used cudgel, and walked up to Jones, smacking the blade out of his hand with it with practiced ease, sending it clean through the corridor wall. "Ja? Evolved with chrome and oil? Show me then, Theta Ray of the Rat-caneers."

The one human eye of the cyborg pirate widened in shock and fear as she stepped so quickly into his personal range, how casually she had destroyed his remarkable new weapon, and how smug she was about it all. Servos whirring, he moved to grapple with the Artan retainer. "Take you apart with my bare hands...!"

Schwein caught both hands casually, crinkling the cybernetic limbs as she did so. "I am so sorry... Mein apologies... I did not mean to crush your new hands like that. I do not know mein own strength these days, you see, and..." Returning her cudgel to her waist, she tried to punch in a medical assistance request in a nearby corridor console and just poked her hand right through the screen, showering sparks all over her. "Ah... you will have to seek your own medical attention, it seems..."

"Curse you, Schwein von Alcott! I will have my revenge on you, do you hear me?" In this life or the next!" the crippled cyborg sputtered, nursing his crushed hands. "I'll get you for this, if it's the last thing I do!"

"Say fella, I don't wanna tell you your business or nothin', but you just got casually pwned," the hulking Petty Officer Jablonski opined. "If I were you, I might think about maybe quittin' while I was still ahead, before she really gets rough with ya, eh?"

"I really feel bad for him... He has spent a lot of time trying to match me, yet he is still as frail as a newborn babe to me..." Schwein shook her head and motioned for her partner and her to continue. "Our target should be just ahead."

"Yeah. Seems like I probably shouldn't arm wrestle my big brother next time I get back home, or he's liable to end up looking like that guy..." Jablonski agreed as she casually fired a few sleep gas grenades behind her, so they wouldn't have to hear the injured man's curses and threats as they departed.

"Hey, hold on now, you said YOU got a brother...?" Jablonski became a bit excited in the wake of the melancholy mariner medic. "Oh, now this you gotta give about. Is he as strong as you?"

"Nein. I am an... only child," Schwein muttered.

Still feeling bad about the man, Schwein came up to the door of the suspect they were after and pressed the door controls, putting almost her whole hand through them. With a frustrated groan, she just shoved her hands into the door and slid them open, the locks snapping like twigs. Instantly, the man that was sleeping off a few too many drinks on his couch was on his feet and freaking out. Schwein just popped out one of her wrist phasers and gave him a light stun before catching him. "DNA match confirms this is him. Time to beam out, ja?"

Reaching over, the supersized security spartan laid her large armored hand down gently upon the shoulder pad of the Baroness.

"For somebody who's going through what you're going through, I think," Without pausing, Jablonski fired a tear gas grenade into the hallway over her shoulder as nearby doors in the habitat section began to open. "You're really handling it well. This was a super good mission, Baroness von Alcott. It's been a privilege to serve with you."

Inside the helmet's HUD, Jablonski coordinated her actions and contacted their ride as she picked up the unconscious man to hand him to Schwein before she started doing a quick inspection of the room for evidence. "Petty Officer Jablonski to USS Selune, do you copy? We're ready to check out of this roach motel, if ya know what I mean. Whattya say Ensign Weiaex, hah?"

After a brief second, Ensign Weiaex's voice came ringing over Jablonski's communicator. "I was wondering how long it was going to be, I was starting to get bored up here. Seriously, their little fighters are serious crap compared to the Selune. I'm picking up three at your location. Is this our boy?"

"Yep, that's him," Jablonski confirmed as she picked up the suspect's personal tablet and stuffed it into his go bag that had been open next to his rack. "3 to beam up... energize, eh?"

With the shimmer of the transporter, the pair of legendary figures vanished, leaving in their wake tall tales that would grow over time. Tall tales that would grow, retold from witness to witness, to slowly create the legend.

The legend of the day the Baroness von Alcott tore apart Romulan refugee station 339-A with her bare hands.

While engineering assistant Ensign Briaar Gavarus was skilled at her job, she was far from the ideal Starfleet Officer. She was sarcastic, confrontational, rude, overweight and something of a literal and figurative pig in some ways.

As a Tellarite, she of course resembled a two-meter, 180 kilogram humanoid pig. Her face sported a porcine snout and shaved down lower tusks that she tried to conceal. Her wiry platinum blond hair was always pulled back which just drew more attention to her slightly floppy ears and her thick, three-fingered hands were capped off with dense gray nails that were essentially dexterous hooves, not unlike her cloven feet.

But another way that she was a pig was in how she maintained her small, junior officer quarters on Deck 9. They were a tremendous mess, with upturned cargo crates used as makeshift end tables, clothes, and tools strewn about and a closet packed to bursting with a mess of unfolded clothes. And it was this particular mess that was coming back to bite the porcine young ensign in her prodigious, curly-tailed pig butt.

Junior officer’s quarters, like any other, were subject to quarterly inspections. And the day before, Gavarus had forgotten about the inspection due to the weight of her workload and failed to even pretend to tidy her living space. As such, she was now given extra assignments cleaning the Matter Reclaimators on all common areas. It was a series of disgusting tasks Gavarus wasn't looking forward to. But she was looking forward to her more immediate task even less.

She had until the start of her shift the next morning to bring her quarters back up to snuff. And she knew this upcoming inspection was going to be especially meticulous. Standing in the center of her quarters, surrounded by grease-covered engine parts she had been working on atop a large drop-cloth spread out on the floor, wearing a pair of grimy cargo pants and a one-size too small black t-shirt with the word "HERA" emblazoned in gold across the chest, she sighed and cursed at her task. "Gods frickin' dammit! I should just have the whole room beamed into space and start over."

Which was when the door chime rang. As no one ever visited the abrasive engineer and inspectors didn’t ring the chime, that only left one person it could possibly be darkening her door.

“Computer, open hatch,” she grunted, and as the door slid open, in bounced the irrepressible Fiona O’Dell. The midget Mariposian was wearing her hair tightly braided in intricate swirls about her head, although it was a far cry from her usual mop of curls she wore down and loose, or lightly tied back. As such, she looked as though she had lost a dozen kilos of mass. Wearing a pair of black lycra bike shorts that stretched to her knobby knees and a loosely-fitting emerald sweatshirt that bore the simple legend ‘STEREOTYPE’, she grinned at her porcine pal as she kept her hands behind her back.

“Whatcha doin' Briiiiiiiiaar?” she asked cheerfully. While she tended to be in a state of perennially good cheer, the little lass was sarcastic and smart, and was quick to turn scorn and derision upon those she deemed foolish. Which was part of the reason she and Gavarus got along so well.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm an Officer on a Starship and I was sent to clean my room by my space Mommy. Because that's a vital function of starship frickin' operations!" Gavarus griped as she waved her arms around in protest.

Then she cocked an eyebrow, noting O'Dell's suspicious behavior. "What are you... what are you hiding, Leprechaun?"

"Ah heard they stuck ye in the gulag of yuir own mess, so I came ta help! And I brought bitters!" Swinging it around from behind her, O'Dell held out her hand to set the six-pack of bottled beer upon it like a presenter, eyes wide and bright and a cheery smile in place.

Taking the six pack and placing it on the cluttered kitchenette counter, Gavarus pulled out two bottles, handing one to O'Dell and taking a long drink of her own. "Thanks."

"Cheers!" O'Dell accepted the beer and took a little swig, smacking her lips at the taste. "Fuir the record, the inspection's are mostly because tis a fire hazard for alla this clutter nae ta be maintained, and we dinna need inny 'a that. Plus, it helps encourage proper hygiene and discipline... what? I had a messy roomie in the Academy and flight school, drove me bonkers! Y'see me quarters- foola crrap boot tis all clean an' tidy!"

"It's still nonsense. Fire suppression shielding takes care of all of that. It's just some inane military holdover. It's got noting to do with how I do my... OW!" Stepping over to the.couch, Gavarus stumbled over an errant piece of a discarded warp coil on the floor.

"No comments from the peanut gallery!" She grumbled, making Fiona's point for her.

"Well, ye kin bellyache aboot it all ye want, boot either ye straighten oop yuir act or ye'll be gittin transferred to some shittier assignment. And I'll have nunna that! Not my mechanic they don't!" The feisty little warp jockey shadow boxed, which looked ridiculous somehow. "So! Where do we start? Pickin' oop alla the shite offa the floor?"

Pacing around with her beer, Gavarus gestured to the collection of assorted parts on the drop cloth and griped. "This isn't shit, Fee! They were going to recycle all this in the replicator and it's all still good. That could just needs to be resurfaced and that coupling is just..."

Stopping herself, Gavaurs slumped and sighed. "Okay, it's all shit. But I like messing with it."

"Wait, hold on a tetch. There's nae reason ye canna have yuir trools and projects an' doodads. If ye hurl 'em inta the replicator, it'll spit 'em back out joost like when ye threw 'em in. But even if ye don't like that idea, look aboot! Ye kin have a wardrobe in the room, and ye dinna. Ye can have a footlocker, and ye dinna. Ye kin have a folding closet, and ye dinna. Yuir nae takin advantage of yuir storage potential, aye?" O'Dell apparently knew the regulations well. All of the accessories she had ticked off were present in her own bricabrac quarters, covered in shawls and tapestries and framed magnetic images.

"Okay, soooo... Footlocker? Like... What? Like a Footlocker I can put here, like in front to the couch that can double as a table so I can keep the stuff in there but have it to work on when I want it?" Gavarus tried sussing out Fiona's idea. The collection of engine parts and assorted junk was her junk and she wanted to keep working on it when she wanted to.

"Exactly! So ye kin keep yuir crap, an' have it oot when ye want but ye have it all poot away and tidied when inspection times comes. S'how ye survive military inspection, Briaar- ye stoof it all oota sight!" Fiona took another sip of her beer, gesturing at the mess as she did so. "Order 'em from the quartermaster and ye kin even have 'em beamed into yer quarters- all it costs is matter rations, and ye were only g'win ta spend that on beer innyhow."

Chucking as she took a swig, Gavarus replied with a smirk. "Well, at least with beer, I give some if that back to the reclamator."

"I guess in the mean time, we need to replicate up some bins to put shit in or something. Ugh." Gavarus groaned as she stepped over to the wall mounted computer console to order up a stack of large storage bins to make their job easier.

After a few seconds, a stack of five green plastic storage bins shimmered into existence in the corner of the room. "Well, that represents a few beers. You said you were here to help, so..."

"Aye! Let's pick up yuir crap!" O'Dell beamed, perfectly happy to help. "Noow, we kin do this the right way and sort everything oot, or we can just toss it inta bins to git it oot'a the way fuir now. One joost means a faster mess agin but easy clean-up noow, the other means it'll be easier ta keep it clean. What'll it be?"

It was odd to hear O'Dell being the responsible one, but in this, she was clearly experienced. Her quarters were, after all, always squared away. And in explaining it to her big round shipmate, the spindly star pilot sounded oddly maternal- clearly she was channeling her own mother for this exercise.

"Yay! Another Space Mommy." Gavarus rolled her eyes sarcastically, grinning at O'Dell. "Okay, I'll bin up the spare parts here if you want to start... I dunno.... On that corner."

As she spoke, the tubby Tellarite waved over at a towering pile of crap in the corner near the door to the bed chamber. An assortment of old magazines, used PaDD's, coffee cups, random clothes and nonsense that was nearly as tall as the diminutive Maraposian marvel, who immediately began tearing into it.

Replicating a trash bag big enough for her to fit into, O’Dell opened it up on top of a pile of boxes on the floor, then began separating the mountain into three piles- clothes, garbage and ‘debatable’. As she made her decisions, all of the uniforms parts were going into the trash heap, although she did pause to pull off Gavarus’ comm badge. The magazines were tossed on the ‘debatable’ pile, while the coffee cups, plates, utensils and odd spare parts all went into the bag. As she collected the dozen of flimsies in the stack, she piled those with the magazines, while gavarus’ civilian clothes were rapidly making a pile of their own. As she went through them, O’Dell held up a pair of panties that were far too big for her diminutive frame, but far too small for that of her porcine pal.

“Ah, ye been havin guests over Briaar?” O’Dell asked, holding up the pale pink panties of mystery?

In the center of the room Gavarus was grunting as she bent over, a considerable effort with her prodigious paunch in the way, while putting the machine parts in a bin for storage. As O'Dell began waving the panties, her face flushed beat red with embarrassment.

"What?! NO!" Gavarus reached over and snatched up the undergarments and tossed them in the trash bag. "So I've gained a little weight since transferring. So what?"

“Oi! Dinna ye be bellowin’ a’ me, eh? I’m nae the one eatin a donut while yuir partner’s runnin on the treadmill!” O’Dell snapped back. “Ye done failed yuir room inspection, so I’m helpin’. If ye canna fit inta yuir bloomers, maybe ye should think aboot that too, aye?”

"Fine! Sorry." Gavarus took a swig of her beer and finished putting the machine parts into the bin, putting the tarp over the top of everything. Closing the top of the bin, she tried to pick it up but it was far too heavy with all the heavy engine components, so she scootched it over against the far wall and out of the way. "It's just annoying, ya'know? I mean, it's all just such nonsense. It has nothing to do with my job and..."

Rolling her eyes, even Gavarus realized she was sounding like a broken record at this point. "Okay... enough of that. I'm starting to get on my OWN nerves. So, do you need any help with that shit?"

“Sure. Are these magazines for the keep or pitch pile?” O’Dell held up a magazine, which promptly fell open to reveal a trifold pin-up of an exotic and beautiful Bajoran woman who looked like she could bench press a starship.

For an instant, Gavarus' eyes went wide before she remembered who she was talking to. Letting out a snort of a chuckle, she raised an eyebrow at her diminutive partner-in-crime and flatly replied, "Keep pile."

"Ach, yuir a dirty prevert. We'll stack 'em oop an' alphabetize 'em before we stoof 'em in yuir footlocker where all the porn belongs. Under ya stripey socks an' garters." the little lass kept at the pile, sorting reasonably smoothly as she went, tossing more and more debris into the garbage bag.

"F'r crissakes, how do ye even have a matter allowance? Alla this crap is better off not bein' crap on yuir deck, ye ken?" At that, O'Dell stood up straight and froze, then slowly turned around with a horrified expression on her face. "Blessed lady virgin, I sound like a bluiddy officer. Where's me beer?"

"Ha!" Gavarus snorted as she handed O'Dell her beer from the makeshift end table. "You ARE an Officer, Ensign Space Mommy. Drink up."

Walking over, Gavarus grabbed the stack of incriminating magazines to put away in one of the bins. "Okay... Realistically, this is all garbage here." She gestured to the small kitchenette counter. "So, we can move to the Bedroom and you'll get to see where the magic never happens."

"Well if it's garbage then sweep it all inta that bag, ye great goggle-eyed slackjaw! Tis the point- we're nae doin it laaaater, we're doin' it nooooow." As she griped, O'Dell grabbed the bag and brought it over to the edge of the counter so Gavarus could sweep the entire counter clear in one swipe.

As she did, she scoffed at O'Dell. "Wait, 'Great goggle-eyed slack jaw'?" Pushing the assorted trash into the bag, Gavarus flinched slightly. "Ooh, fork. Ow... Where do you pull that shit from? I swear, its like I skipped a class at the academy in archaic, weird-ass insults, you... Wiggle-faced woozle. Yeah, see. I don't got it."

Chuckling as she talked, Gavarus shrugged. "Okay... We're making some frickin' progress."

"Oh, I dunno. 'Woozle-faced wizzle' is nae too far off the road. Aye, see? This ain't s'bad! Now howbout you fetch that stack of food containers doown there and toss 'em in here, cuz I'm too wee and frail ta be exposin' meself ta that high a concentration of hazardous bacteriological waste. After that we move to that pile a'clothes, cuz it's time to get honest an' chuck some that dinna fit, hmmm?" O'Dell took a half-step back at that. "What? I'm not bein' mean, jooost nae point in clothes that don't fit when yuir wardrobe kin be stored in yuir replicator is all!"

Rolling her eyes so hard you could almost hear them, Gavarus put the pile of food containers in the bag. "Ya'know, there's about... YOU meters worth of room in this bag still." She chuckled as they moved on to the clothes pile.

"Oh sure, but then ye'd joost sit back down on yer arse and nae finish the job wi'oot yuir helper!" O'Dell shot back, unfazed.

Pulling over two bins, Gavarus set them down and propped onto the floor next to the pile. "Okay, this bin is for keepers, this one is for the discard pile."

"At's the way. If it don't fit and ye dinna have an emotional attachment, in the bin it goes, aye? Then we'll empty the discard bin inta the bag and keep goin. Look, s'a project and we're havin fun!" Fiona tried to put a positive spin on cleaning, of all things, like thew world's most annoying little sister.

"Ohh, Wheeee!" Gavarus spun her fingers over her head in a mock display of 'having fun'. "Yeah, this is like a party on... oh sweet seven hells, I forgot this existed."

As she spoke, she pulled from the pile a black crop top with the neck cut open and arranged in rhinestones on the chest, the words 'Sexy Pig.'

At that, O’Dell nearly choked on the sip of beer she was takin. As she coughed, she covered her mouth until she could speak again, then she pointed to it. “Oh, you have GOT to wear that to 10-Forward next time ye decide to go hit on a girl!”

"Yeah, no." Gavarus laughed out a light snort. "You still haven't seen me as drunk as I was when I got this goddamn thing. Plus, I was still in the Academy and..."

She held up the top which looked like it would be a better fit for the miniature Mariposian, "Seven hells, I really have put on a shit of frickin' weight." She tossed the shirt over at O'Dell. "Want it?"

Taking the top and draping it over her slight form, the garment hung down long enough to be a dress on O’Dell’s childlike frame, and she snorted. “Oh aye! I’ll wear this next time we do civvies in 10-Forward and that won’t make the lesbian rumors die down at aaaaaaall!”

Picking through the clothing, anything that was too dirty, greasy or holy Fiona was just stuffing into the garbage bag, which was starting to get full. “Alreet, so we got yuir parts binned, we got your ‘artistic inspiration’ set aside, we got your clothes up. Aside from scrubbing and vacuumin, we’ve made a hell of a change in here, aye? Noow is there innything in the bedroom that might scar me wee fragile mind if I should see it…?””

"I don't think so, I..." Suddenly, Gavarus' eyes went wide for a second as with a thick grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and went into the bedroom. "Uh... wait here a sec."

As the door wooshed closed behind her, O'Dell could hear the tubby Tellarite tossing things around and muttering to herself. After a moment, she came back out with a cartoonish grin plastered on her face. "No. There is nothing in this room that should be in any way problematic whatsoever." She said in an exaggeratedly drawn out fashion.

“Saints be praised fur that,” O’Dell muttered. “Ye leave too many of yuir bedroom bits aboot, you’ll fail inspection just on the trauma value alone to the inspector,” O’Dell grunted as she dragged the full trash bag into the bedroom, then she stopped short. Staring at the wreck of a room, she was dumbfounded for a few seconds until she found her voice again.

“Ah, Briiar? There is a bed in there somewhere, aye…?”

"In theory, yes." Gavarus scoffed. "It's... that pile of blankets over there. Seriously, it's not THAT bad, is... okay. Yeah, it's a shit storm."

Shaking her head, Gavarus scratched her head. "I guess, pick where you want your body found? Bed or closet?"

“They find me wee corpse in yuir bed, that is DEFINITELY not gonna slow down the rumor mill,” O’Dell chuckled. “Tell ye what, 2 piles agin. Pitch it in one, needs to be washed and/or hung up in a closet in the other. Start here wi’ the debris by the door and we’ll work our way in. Look on the bright side, we’re halfway… ew.”

O’Dell’s face turned a rather pallid shade of white as she froze. “Uhhh… do ye have a pet, Briaar? Cuz something joost ran across me foot…”

"What, no?" Gavarus looked momentarily confused as she was picking up loose uniform tops from off of her bed. Suddenly, as she saw a small blur of something moving across the floor, the two-meter tall Tellarite lept up onto the bed, squealing very much like a pig. Shrieking, Fiona O’Dell leapt up onto the bed and scrabbled up the tall Tellarite like a squirrel climbing a tree until her forearms were braved on Gavarus’ shoulders.

“I think if ya have rats in yuir quarters we’re in bigger trouble than yuir bloody room inspection,” O’Dell bemoaned. “What’re we gonna do?!?”

"How is that even a thing?!? Rats on a frickin' starship? There's literally no way that could happen, Fee!" Gavarus protested, though she did so still on the top of her bed, scanning the ground with her eyes nervously. "Lots of crewmembers have pets... Hell, I used to have a Tribble when I came on board but it died. Maybe one snuck in or something."

"We need a stick or something to poke around with." Gavarus was trying to suss out a plan of attack, forgetting full well the sensors available to them at a word.

“Well, in the oodles of crrrrap coverin yuir floor, I dinna see innything as useful as a stick!” O’Dell observed, her brogue deepening as she panicked. “There! Somethin joost moved! I dinna ken what et is, but I’m nae gittin down ta find oot! If yuir laundry has become a sentient I dinna want to be eaten by a Horta comprised a'yuir unwashed underthings!”

"You're not gonna get frickin'...hold on. Craaappp." Gavarus grumbled as she paused mid-sentence. "Okay... I've got...something that's, uh, stick LIKE we can use to poke around with. It's, uh, in my nightstand."

The pixie pilot levered herself up on shaky arms, one foot planted on Gavarus' hip for support. "Look, I may not be much into sex but Ah had six older brothers. There is noooo way I am diggin' in yuir nightstand. Okay, alreet, we need a plan. What would the Lieutenant do?"

"I don't KNOW..." Gavarus whined as O'Dell dug her foot into her hip, adjusting herself. "Maybe stare at the pile judgmentally until it gives up? Murder-Punch whatever it is to death? Oooh! Gimmie your shoe!"

Nimbly scrambling the rest of the way up to seat herself, with one leg on either side of Gavarus' neck, O'Dell dangled her feet at chest height for her partner in crime. "Aye, that's a plan I kin get behind! S'all yuirs! Farewell, me sneaker! Tis a far better place ye go now!"

Grabbing one of O'Dell's sneakers, Gavarus gingerly lobbed it off the bed towards the slightly shuffling pile of laundry. A lame, pathetic toss that nonetheless hit it's target.

From the pile, there came a sad squeak, followed by a gentle trilling purr that Gavarus recognized. "The hell? No frickin' way. Get... Get down, Fee."

"Izzat... that sounds like a tribble. If there was a tribble in here we'd be up to our elbows in 'em." O'Dell swung her leg off Gavarus' shoulder then slid smoothly down her back, landing and moving smoothly alongside Gavarus. "What is that?"

Stepping carefully to the ground, Gavarus carefully lifted the sheet to reveal the slightly matted white fur of a tribble. "Holy SHIT!?! Cueball?!? Oh my gods, I thought you were frickin' dead. I put your box in the reclimator!"

As the tribble purred insistently, O'Dell reached out gingerly. "Ach, ye poor poor beastie... come 'ere' s'alreet... I'll nae hurt ye... there's a lamb." Picking up the tunneling tribble, O'Dell brought it to her chest and gingerly smoothed the outer edges of the alien parasite's fur. Then she looked up accusingly at Gavarus, lower lip sticking out and eyes narrowing.

"Oh, don't look at me like that!" Gavarus protested. "She wasn't IN the box. I thought she got out. The door was malfunctioning during my first week here and she was GONE! All I ever found was a few bits of white fur stuck in a turbolift door! I had a funeral for her goddamn box!"

The two-meter, tubby Tellarite looked somewhat ridiculous as she fidgeted in place as she tentatively reached out to pet the tiny tribble.

"Hairbroosh. Ye do own one, aye?" O'Dell asked, holding up the tribble to Gavarus height so she could see what an awful matted mess the small furball's fur had become. Peering out from behind those hands, accusing emerald eyes pierced her own. "If ye cleaned yuir quarters, ye wouldnae have lost yuir wee shaggy. At least he was in noo danger 'a starvin ta death."

"Uh... y... yeah. H... hold on." When the Porcine Engineer was legitimately nervous, she tended to stutter and she knew O'Dell was right and felt like 180 kilograms of compost as she went to grab a brush. She thought her pet was dead and it was in her literal pig-sty of a room for weeks and she didn't know.

Grabbing a brush and pulling a chunk of her own hair out of it, she rushed it back to O'Dell, sheepishly. "H... here."

Bringing the matted and shivering tribble down to her level again, O'Dell accepted the hairbrush and looked up at the properly guilted pet owner. When she spoke, it was softly. Briaar felt guilty enough already. "Alreet... d'ye know how to git tangles oot? Ach, ye poor wee thing, is that bubblegum? Nae, it's a candy, I got it. Here, let's move to the couch since we cleared it off, and we kin work together and I'll show ye how to get the nits an' knots out, aye?"

"Uh... o... okay." Gavarus muttered, nervously following behind O'Dell. "I used to have an oil that helped, but it's gone with... @#$&... I can't believe I... I thought Watson's dumb ass cat ate him or something when..."

The gigantic woman was on the verge of tears and was beyond flustered. As she followed O'Dell to the couch, she stepped gingerly on her slightly undersized hooves.

"S'alreet, Briiar. He's okay, joost a little scared, and he's nae g'win ta enjoy gettin' brooshed out, but we'll get him right as rain, aye? I'll help ye. He'll be alreet, won't ye Cueball?" O'Dell held the dirty dust bunny up to he face and beamed a smile at the tribble, which in turn trilled in a seemingly pleased manner. "See? He's nae mad, he's happy to see ye!"

At which, Gavarus' thick lower lip began to tremble. For a few seconds, the huge woman looked like an enormous child before she broke out in almost cartoonish tears. "WHAAAA!!! I'M... I'M... I'M S... S... SORRY CUEBALL!!! IM A TERRIBLE PIECE OF SHIIIIIIIIIIITTT!!! WHHAAAAHHH!!!"

Grimacing, O'Dell realized that her power of guilt must be working overtime today, because she didn't realize it worked this well on Gavarus. Placing the tribble into the thick three-fingered hands, the minsicule Mariposian began brushing the tangles and bits of stuff in the tribble's fur out while Gavarus held it. "There, see? He's joost glad ye found him agin, that's all. He's nae mad, are ye Cueball?"

The tribble purred, as if in response.

"Of course yuir not. Ye still had food and tribbles don't need much water, so yuir joost glad ta be back, aren't ye? Yes you are! Yes you are!" O'Dell spoke to the tribble as one would a baby, and the tribble purred, sending out vibrations that most races found soothing, save Klingons, who were apparently the universe's natural enemy of tribbles.

Holding the white-furred fuzzball in her hands delicately, Gavarus had begun to calm down a bit but was now at that stage of crying where, like a small child, was trying to catch her breath and talk at the same time. "I'm... So... Sorry... Cueball. *Snort*. M... Mommy's... Sorry. "

Catching her breath a little, Gavarus tried to chuckle a bit as she talked. "Okay... G... Good reason to keep... Keep my quarters cleaner."

"There ye go... tis alreet, Briaar. Noo harm done, and we'll git wee Cueball all cleaned up and pretty agin, then we'll finish cleanin oop so ye willnae loose him agin, aye?" Fiona's tone was soothing and soft, for the benefit of the inadvertently abused pet and their guilt-riddled owner. "After we get all the nits and knots brushed oot, we'll give him a nice wee sonic shower to git 'im all clean and fresh too, ayte? S'gwin ta be okay, right? Right Cueball?""

As she spoke, Fiona's hands worked with speed and efficiency. With her own mop of curls, the little leprechaun had a lifetime of experience with this sort of thing, and in short order she was taking care of the matted fur of the tribble, turning him as she worked so that the now brushed out and healthy side was facing Gavarus, to reinforce to her that her wee pet was none the worse for wear, just in need of the TLC it was even now receiving. While it occasionally squeaked a bit and a pulled hair, for the most part, it was now settling into a calm, steady trilling to soothe the jangled nerves of his owner.

Having calmed herself down much more, Gavarus had an aggressively goofy smile on her face as she held the tiny white puffball up for Fiona. The smile only cracking a bit each time as Cueball squeaked and Gavarus winced ever so slightly. "Thanks, Fee." She said with more sincerity then was standard for their interactions.

"It's alreet, Briaar. I know ye dinna mean inny harm- ye aren't the type," Fiona reassured the stricken swine. "We'll get your wee little mate here all spruced up, and he'll be freesh as a daisy in no time, and we'll make sure he stays that way, aye? Aye, m'wee little bairn, eh? Yuir momma's glad to have ye back, that she is! And soon ye'll be able to roam freely withoot gitting lost inny more!"

"Maybe go git 'em some oat flakes from the replicator to feed him, help him remember the hand that feeds him? I think they eat grains and sooch, though I'm nae expert on alien pets." Although she was quite adroit at working with livestock thanks to her upbringing, a tribble was a new one on O'Dell. But she adapted easily- an animal was an animal, and furry and cooing made it that much easier to find them lovable. "Cueball must be one of the neutered ones, aye?"

"Yeah. Ship regulations are strict with Tribbles, so Cueball can't make any little 8-Balls." Gavarus got up as delicately as possible, gently handing Cueball to O'Dell. "I still have all the food options in the replicator program. But this was his favorite. Tribble supplement number 9."

Punching the instructions into the replicator, Gavarus came back over with two small round chromed bowls. One with water and the other with a small collection of pastry flakes on a tray. "Here you go, Cueball. Momma's got your favorite." It was almost funny to watch the towering Tellarite dote over the tiny Tribble.

"There we goo. Alreet Briaar, why don't ye take the opportunity to get yuir crap offa the floor'a yuir bedroom, since ye know what's to keep and what's ta pitch, and I'll finish getting yuir wee shaggy all fresh as a daisy, aye?" O'Dell spoke with no malice, instead hoping to use this as a motivation for the big boar to finish the field day of her quarters.

"Uh... yeah. Sure. Good idea." Gavarus nervously laid the food down and grabbed the rest of the bins and quickly went to work in the bedroom. As Fiona continued to de-mat the tiny tribble's fur, she could hear Gavarus rustling through the piles in the bedroom like a whirling dervish. And after what seemed like an extremely short period of time, considering the size of the mess, she came back out with a bin filled to overflowing with clothes.

Putting the bin near the door, Gavarus looked a little winded but more focused than before. "So, yeah. This is all getting recycled. It's all stuff that either doesn't fit or I wouldn't be caught dead in anymore. On the plus side, it will seriously boost my matter rations for beer."

"That's the spirit!" Fiona chirped as she took the tribble into the sonic shower, where she used the lightest setting to pulse away the dander and detritus from the small lifeform. In only a moment she returned, holding out the freshly-cleaned and brushed out pale white tribble.

"There ye go! All cleaned up and fresh fuir momma!" Holding out the tribble as she had earlier, now she presented the small furball to it's ostensible owner.

Gently taking the tiny, trilling Tribble into her oversized hamhocks, Gavarus bit her bottom lip like a shoolgirl. "Oh, thank you again, Fee. He looks... I can't believe it."

As she spoke, she rubbed her snout gently against the tribble which cooed in response. "Momma was so upset when she thought she lost you, Cueball. But I made a new friend. Do you like Momma's new friend? Do you like Auntie Fee? You like Auntie Fee, don't you? Yes, you do!" As if it understood, the snow white furball chirped lightly.

"Waaaaahhhl, Auntie Fee likes you too, Cueball," O'Dell grinned wide, scritching the little furball affectionately. "Alreet, what do ye say we finish the job, here? Let's get alla this crap to reclamation so's we kin put away what remains, wipe everything doown and get it all ship-shape to pass yuir re-inspection tomorrow, aye? And we'll have ta get yuir wee bairn a nice playpen, aye? So's when momma's gettin' her room inspected ye're nae on the ceiling or somethin..."

"Ooh, Yeah. Duh. Right." Gavarus handed Fiona Cueball again for a moment, walked back over to the replicator and called up a small, clear sided pet carrier about the size of a really big shoebox. Placing it, with the food and water tray inside, on the cleaned off Kitchenette counter, Gavarus gently picked her tiny pet back up and placed it in the case for safe keeping and closed the clear hatch. "There you go. It's a little one for now, but once we're clean, I re-replicate your old pen, okay? Okay, baby? Okay."

Straightening back up, Gavarus sighed slightly. "Well... that frickin' happened. Soooo... rock/paper/scissors for who cleans the shower?"

"Since I'm such a pal, howboot I'll clean the shower if ye'll drag alla that heavy crap to the reclamator, aye? I dinna mind getting dirty, but if I try luggin alla that down the corridor I'm g'win ta throw me back out." While it was true that the midget Mariposian would have trouble, she felt badly about shaming Gavarus over the state of her pet, and wanted to make up for it. Not being the most tidy nor clean of individuals, when it came to the finishing touches to make the room pass inspection, Fiona figured it was best she be the one to add those touches. After all, despite her desire to be surrounded by clutter, O'Dell was in her own way quite fastidious, and was in the habit of acing room inspections so they could not be held against her, since so often in her career superiors were looking for reasons to wash her out.

"Yeah, that sounds like a deal to me. I'll get this crap settled so we've got more room to put away what I'm actually keeping." Gavarus said, only now finally no longer complaining about the chore and just happy that her pet wasn't actually dead. "Let's get this finished up so we can get back to drinking properly."

An hour later, both women sat exhausted on the couch, the cheerfully trilling Tribble between them as they clinked together their beer bottles, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

"I have ta say, I think ye kin pass room inspection now, aye? And really, I was impressed ye parted wi' soo much of yuir crrap. The place looks right spic and span!" O'Dell observed, taking another swig off her beer, the first one she'd started with. "Plus we found Cueball, so that's a definite plus!"

Reaching down to scritch on her purring pet, Gavarus smiled. "Huge ass plus."

As she scritched, she paused for a moment to think and then sighed, taking a swig of her beer. "Craaaappp. Speaking of huge asses... there's... uh... another inspection coming up, and currently, there is no way I'm passing it, Fee."

"Thought ye said so long as ye kin fit into a Jeffries tube they dinna care?" O'Dell replied, taking another sip of her beer.

"I'm pretty sure I said that they shouldn't care, but..." Gavarus took a long swig of her beer, "...but we both know I'm going to fail that frickin' physical hard at this rate and..."

Leaning her head back and letting out an aggressively exaggerated sigh, Gavarus continued, "...I could use some... help! There, I said it."

"That's all I needed ta hear," O'Dell replied, sitting up. "So tomorrow we'll start in the gymnasium together, eh? I need to build up and ye need to slim doown, and we kin do it together, aye? There's nae reason ta be ashamed of it Briiar. Besides, ye dinna think I was g'win ta give ye crap aboot it, didya?"

"Waahhhhhl, except that yuir gonna hafta switch ta liquor instead 'a beer. But that's nae s'bad, aye?" Scritching the little tribble between them, O'Dell spoke to it in baby talk. "Nooo, that's not s'bad. And yuir mumma and yuir auntie will both get inta shape ere long, and soon we'll be runnin the joint, aye?"

"Oh NO! Not hard liquor! However will I survive!" Gavarus chuckled as she looked at her beer bottle. "But, in the mean time, here's to running the joint!" And she held her beer up for a toast.

"Here's ta runnin the joint!" O'Dell agreed, and the furry tribble cooed it's agreement as well.

In the recently-field dayed and now pristine quarters that had successfully passed re-inspection, half of the R&D department slouched on the cough, a small white tribble between them. The tiny redheaded Mariposian, Fiona O’Dell, half sat, half lay on the couch with a tumbler of synthehol whiskey held in both hands not unlike a child, which her proportions and dimensions emphasized. Briaar Gavarus, the large Tellarite also had adopted a similar posture, with a tumbler of whiskey balanced on her prodigious belly.

The furry white tribble was sitting atop a shallow cup of his own, also with an amber liquid in the bottom, which was how they could share a bit of synthehol with him, for the legendary parasite was perennially hungry. And drunks always wanted company, so Cueball was now a party to their alcoholism.

“Well, congratulations on passin yuir room inspection. Maintenance ought to be easier ta keep ye passin' noow. Plus we found Cueball, which is a definite bonus,” O’Dell declared, one hand reaching over to gently stroke the fur of the tribble, who hiccupped pleasantly, after which O’Dell did the same. “So what do we do noow? We’ve duty in a few hours, but til then we’ve naught ta do.”

Taking a swig if her whisky, the near-perpetually grumpy Gararus shrugged. "I dunno. I guess, in theory, we should try and sober up so you don't accidentally step on anyone in Thunderchicken testing."

At which point, she replaced the glass on her rotund personal table of a gut. "Ugh... There's always... Gods forgive me... Exercise."

“Well, aye. We could pump some iron or goo for a run, or maybe jump some rope or…” O’Dell had suggestions pouring out before she read the room and realized none of this was going over well. “Orrrrr we could put it off til tomorrow…”

With a groan, Gavarus slid her bulk down further on the couch until she was head level with the fuzzy white Tribble. "Ugh... you're supposed to be encouraging me, Fee! I'm tellin' ya', Cueball. Your Auntie Fee is an ENABLER!!! Without her, your mommy would be flying the straight and..."

But even as she spoke, Gavarus couldn't help snorting out a laugh.

“BWAHAHAHAHAH! Oh aye, ye’d be flyin’ alreet- horizontal passed oot drunk in a nest of yuir own dirty uniforms more’n likely, ye great lazy bugger. Well, if’n ye need inspiration, yuir dream girl is likely in the gymnasium bench pressing a shuttlecraft or something. If naught else ye kin go an ogle her while ye putter.” O’Dell held up her tumbler of synthehol in a toast. “Plus, ye’ve already switched from beer to liquor, so your good habits are already takin’ hold, aye?”

Raising her Glass to match, Gavarus tapped it against O'Dell's. "Yeah. Here's t' good frickin' habits. Let's do this shit!'

Twenty minutes later, Cueball was sleeping off his tiny Tribble bender in his pen and the Hera's notorious partners in crime were making their way to the ship's gymnasium. Gavarus was wearing a pair of tight black workout pants and a pair of pink laced white sneakers with a baggy, off the shoulder black T-shirt with rhinestones spelling out the word 'FASHION'.

The diminutive O’Dell was clad in white sneakers, some white bike shorts down to her knobby knees and a black top that looked like she was wearing her mom’s clothes. One that declared, written in rhinestones if one could read it with all the voluminous folds it made hanging off her small and lanky form, her to be a ‘Sexy Pig’. It was a hand-me-down whose message made her giggle to see, so she wore it to bolster both their spirits.

“Alreet! So what are we aimin for?” the Mariposian moppet asked of her porcine pal. “Cardio to build endurance, weights to build muscle, calisthenics to tone… what’s yuir…” as they entered Gymnasium 1, gavarus seemed to stop dead and stare, slack-jawed, as Petty Officer Second Class Jablonski, who was currently doing full- bar curls with a specially angled weight bar that used forcefields to provide resistance instead of large heavy discs of metal.

The behemoth bruiser was straining, and the tight white t-shirt she was wearing that bore the simple lettering ‘Hera’ across the broad and bulging muscles of her chest. Said t-shirt did nothing to hide the bas relief of her rather prodigious muscles straining mightily against the load she was currently curling, pushing over her head, bringing it back down for a curl, then bringing it back to the floor once more. Skin slick and covered with sweat, it was clear that the mighty maiden was pushing herself harder than normal, as her exertion was readily apparent.

The effect on Gavarus was just as readily evident.

Poking the flight engineer in the love handle, O’Dell waved a hand in front of the snout of the titanic Tellarite. “Oi, ground control to Gavarus, do you copy, over?”

"Huh, what?" Gavarus snapped out of the daze that the sight of Jablonski tended to put her in. "Uh... YEAH. Yes. Um... I guess I need... Uh... Less-Fatisthenics. What's that require?"

The tubby Tellarite looked out at the sea of exercise equipment that looked as alien to her as ancient ruins and scoffed. "I mean... I'm a Tellarite. We're not made to be skinny. But I need to pass my damn physical so something here has to help, right?"

“Right… so… ah… I guess we put ye on the treadmill?” When it came to actual fitness, the little lass with the pipe-cleaner arms and legs and the metabolism of a hummingbird was perhaps not the best judge of what would and would not work. But she was certainly game to try, as she had to help her bestie pass her physical qualifications, or she might get bumped from flight duty. “Runnin should help ye sweat if off, aye?”

"Running while not being chased seems so... Exhausting. But I guess 'exhausting' is what I'm here for, right?" Gavarus's shoulders sunk a little. She had no idea what she was doing. "Sooo... Is there a treadmill here I won't break just stepping on it?"

“Yuir the engineer, stress tolerances are your business. My job is to push it til it breaks, dinna ye ken?” O’Dell shrugged plaintively. “Or we could go ask Mightor over there which one she uses or what she recommends. She dinna seem ta have any trouble keeping off fat.” With that said, O’Dell looked over to where the buff behemoth was currently doing pull-ups, which caused her abdominal muscles to flex and even through her top, display clearly defined six-pack abs.

Leaning in conspiratorially, O'Dell muttered behind her hand, keeping her voice down in an uncharacteristic moment of subtlety. "Call me a fruitcake and nutty as a squirrel, but ye know, ye could ask the mighty one over there for a wee bit of guidance. Might be a chance to talk to her, and if ye throw up on her shoes after a workout, at least ye have a good excuse, aye?"

"What?! No! That's..." Then the tubby Tellarite paused to think about what the miniscule Maraposian had just suggested. "That's... Okay... That's actually really frickin' smart."

"Soo..." Gavarus winced, looking down at O'Dell and complaining a little louder than she intended. "She looks super busy and I don't want to interrupt her just because I have no idea how any of this crap is actually supposed to work!"

"Aye, cuz I'm a bluiddy genius. She's allays busy cuz she's here ta work oot, but ye see her helpin' other people- look, she joost lifted that bar offa that fella there, see? Noow," Turning, the little leprechaun's brows dipped in the center as she looked up at Gavarus with a distinctly devilish expression.

"Ye've a choice, me old sod. Ye kin walk over there, tell her ye need ta git in shape and ask fuir her help, which'll show her that ye mean it and that yuir determined and that ye got the guts ta do it. Or I could go ask for ye and embarrass ya in front of yer favorite girl. Or we could try to program the transporter to leave a percentage of your ample storage of adipose tissue in the buffer." At that, O'Dell's eyes popped open to their normal wide-eyed state, as she looked up excitedly at her chubby compatriot.

"Hey wait... would that, with the transporter... could that work...?" While she wasn't much of a technical talent, O'Dell was occasionally given to a flash of inspiration, and she thought she had one now.

And for a brief second, Gavarus was actually considering It. "Well, I mean I read in the Academy about how a transporter accident screwed up an RNA sequence and turned crewmembers into frickin' children, but.... Wait, no. I'm trying to loose a little weight. Not all of it for being dead."

Taking a deep breath, Gavarus tried to work up the nerve to talk to the woman of her fantasies. "Okay. If I die trying this, I bequeath you Cueball."

Gingerly placing her hand on Gavarus' arm, O'Dell solemnly intoned, "If ye die doing this, they'll sing songs of ye in Valhalla. And make no mistake, I'll be sure ta drink yuir share here amongst the living."

Clearing her throat, the tall Tellarite stepped over to where Jablonski was finishing assisting another crewmember with her exercises, turning quickly to O'Dell to grimace slightly with anxiety.

Then, as Jablonski turned back towards where Gavarus was standing, the smitten engineer awkwardly stuttered, "H... h... hey, uh... Um... You, uh... I'm trying to..."

Then, Gavarus coughed slightly and let the rest just fly out in one breath. "SorrytobotheryoubutI'mtryingtomaybegetinsomebettershapeandwonderedifyouhadanyadviceonthebestplacetostart... maybe?"

The bulky bodybuilder paused at the torrent of words and seemed to edge back a bit, and even after Gavarus finished, she still looked wary. That was when the anxious engineer realized the last time she'd spoken to the she-hulk, she'd puked on her shoes, and it looked like she was arriving at the decision that wasn't going to happen again this time.

"Ah, okay then... sooo you wanna get in shape? Well, sure, I can help ya I suppose. So did you want a diet plan or a cardio regimen or you wanna focus on lifting- oh, wait, I'm gettin' ahead of myself. Okay, so, what's better shape mean to you, eh?" Having engaged, the genial giantess tried to establish the parameters of the exercise... literally.

Realizing she was fighting against the two past disaster attempts at talking to the Amazonian vision, Gavarus tried to slow her brain down and her mouth with it. "Okay... sorry. I... Uh. I... W... W...well, at this rate I'm going to flunk my next Starfleet physical and... I..."

Trying to figure out her next words and think through the best words to say, she instead just kept letting words fall out. "I'm good with engines. Engines make sense. I can take them apart and put them back together and that's what I do. That's, like, all I do when me and... Well, that's what I get. That's what I...I mean... I... Don't pay attention..."

Then Gavarus waved her thick, three-fingered hands across her ample middle, "Uh... To all of... This!"

That was when the tower who was one of the only people on the USS Hera who could look Gavarus in the eye when she was standing up straight, drew herself up and crossed her arms, a gleam settling into her eye. "Your PTF quals. You're afraid you're gonna flunk your physical fitness test, and now you're taking it seriously."

There was a tense moment of looming doom from the imposing security officer. Then the lighting shifted, and big Ethel nodded and smiled.

"Okay, okay, we can do this, sure. Tell you what- why don't we do this the easy way, huh?" Jablonski offered a buck-toothed smile and a guiding hand toward one of the exercise mats. Bopping along behind them, the statuesque security officer nodded back at O'Dell. "You too, ma'am."

"Uh... Okay sure. I mean... At this point, I'm pretty much certain I'm gonna flunk them. I... Know I need to..." Gavarus was just a stammering mess as she followed behind the statuesque security officer "I'm... Kind of a mess, I know. Uh... thanks?"

The last bit was said not as a statement but rather as an impossibly awkward question as Gavarus looked over at O'Dell and bit her lower lip nervously.

"Oh, hey, it's no sweat, right? We're shipmates, and we help each other out, right? Okay, so... you know how to lay on your back, raise your knees and do a sit-up, right?" Jablonski knelt down on the mat, gesturing to the greater expanse of it for Gavarus. "Why don't you do it too, Ensign? Show a shipmate some support, right? Pretty sure I can hold your feet too."

At that O'Dell jumped slightly, pointed to herself, then a frazzled smile broke out across her face.

"See, thing is, twice a year, gotta pass them PT quals, officer or enlisted," the honor guard captain explained. "You can fail one, you can fail two, but if you fail three, they start assigning you PT as extra duty. And who wants that, right?"

Grunting louder that she would like to be heard doing, Gavarus lowered her prodigious bulk down to the mat, her more that ample rear filling a full section of the pad all on its own. "Yeah, Fee. Support me. Do it for the Thunderchicken!"

The commentary was more than a little sarcastic right until the instant that Ethel Jablonski put a hand over Gavarus' feet, at which point the anxious engineer felt her stomach begin doing flips. "Uh... O... O... Okay. So... S...sit ups?"

"Yeah, you betcha! So computer, start two minute timer on my mark. I'll count how many you can do in two minutes. Cuz that's the PT test, right? Okay, y'ready?" With O'Dell laid out beside her, placing her fingertips on her collarbones, the midget Mariposian gulped.

Flumping to lay flat on her back, Gavarus crossed her arms high over her thick chest, slowly catching her breath under the strain of both her larger than not cheat and rotund middle. "T... This is my... Maximum level of readiness."

"Okie doke, ready set go, eh? Computer, mark!" With that said, the timer started for two minutes of sit-ups.

Immediately, Gavarus began to strain as she struggled to pull off the required exercise. As she struggled, her cheeks turned beat red as the blood seemed to be being forced up into her head. "Holy... Shit... Holy... Frickin'... Shit!"

"Aw, yer not supposed to curse, ma'am, or that means you auto fail your PTF. Just saying so's ya know," the burly gymbot in boy shorts informed the superior officer.

As Briaar huffed and puffed, her torso inched incrementally forward, shuddering. After a long moment of straining, the ovaloid engineer finally and difficultly crested up to a semi-seated position and uttered a hoarse, "O... o... One '

Flumping back down, she struggled to catch her breath, realizing the entire sit-up easily took a solid twenty seconds to pull off.

"Okay, so remember, you just hafta touch your elbows to your thighs- that's it," said the musclebound mistress of the gym who had no gut to overcome to do such and exercise. "C'mon, the first one's the hardest. You can do it, eh? Show me what you got!"

Encouragement from the statue the sculptor carved to make other statues feel shitty about themselves was somehow less than encouraging to Gavarus.

"Touch my knees with... oh, for... okay!" In spite of her reluctance, she began pulling back up again as her head felt like a zit about to pop. But she didn't want to look any more pathetic in front of the woman of her dreams than she already did.

With a strain, she shook as she ever so barely tapped her knee with her elbow. "TWO!"

Proceeding to flump back down, she gasped before trying for a third. "Ohmigawd, I'm gonna diieeee... THREE!"

"See, now you're getting it! C'mon, show me what you got, ma'am!" the perennially cheerful colossus encouraged the out-of-shape engineer. "Just starting out can be rough, but once you get the hang of it you'll be shaping up in no time. C'mon, up ya go..."

"Oh... Gods... please... not... 'Ma'am'..." Gavarus grunted, heaving a breath between each word as the sit ups became, if not easier, at least more consistent. "Briaar... Gavarus..." Then the Tellarite engineer looked over to her whimsical wingman, O'Dell. "How... are you doing... Fee?"

The short and spindly test pilot, without the detriment of a bountiful belly in her way, was slowly levering herself up and down, straining against the iron grip Jablonski had on her feet. "This ain't s'bad, it's the later stoof... that gets t'me..."

"C'mon, Gavarus, you're doing great, eh? You're at 12 now, keep it up! Feel the burn, right?" the positive petty officer prompted the porcine personage.

"Yeah... 'Burn'... sounds... about... right." Gavarus griped, as she was wont to do. Finally, as the two-minute chime went off, she flumped back on the mat and let her arms flump down to her side.

"Holy... shit..." Gavarus panted, "That was... frickin'... What? What was that?"

"Language. Well, you did twenty-two, which is twenty more than you thought you could do, right?" Jablonski smiled. "And you got how many in, Ensign?"

"It's O'Dell, thankye. And I did forty-two meself!" the sprightly redhead was proud of herself for her accomplishment, and the thickly-muscled petty officer nodded her approval and offered a thumbs-up. The woman's fist was about the size of O'Dell's ribcage, and arriving at that realization made the small Starfleet officer blanch and take an instinctive step back.

"Good, that's real good for your first time. So now let's roll over to do some push-ups, okay? Same deal," the towering taskmistress explained. "I'm gonna start the timer, and you show me how many push-ups you can do in two minutes, okay? Back level, and you have to go at least halfway to the deck. Pretty much when your boobs touch, you're about right, Gavaris. Okay, you in position? You both ready?"

Turning over with a loud grunt, the already exhausted porcine engineer did her best to prop herself in the proper position. It was an awkward exercise considering both the volume of her belly and bosom that already were hanging quite low and the disproportionate smallness of her hoof-like feet that protested their part in this endeavor.

"Well... this is going to be interesting. Tits are halfway there on their own." Gavarus grumbled, muttering slightly under her breath. "Okay... I'm as ready as I'm ever going to be for this."

"That's the spirit! Okie doke, here we go..." Jablonski declared, then she called out, "Computer, mark!"

With that, the timer began and beside her, O'Dell struggled to do her first push-up. While sit-ups were just core strength, push-ups were mostly upper body strength, which O'Dell severely lacked. Straining out her first push-up, her arms were already beginning to shake a little as she went down for the second one.

Whereas, remarkably, Gavarus was actually doing fairly well this time. Hours spent lifting engine parts and working underneath Runabouts and Shuttles gave the tall Tellarite a minor advantage and a decent amount of upper body strength. To say nothing of her bouncy belly picking up some of the slack in helping support some of her weight on the way down. "Gods... I don't... actually... suck... as hard... at this!"

She was still breathing heavily, but managing about two to three push-ups for every one O'Dell was completing. Which was becoming four to one as the spindly-armed tiny test pilot strained to keep going. Her arms wobbled and shuddered as she pushed herself, until finally she collapsed onto the mat, unable to make her arms continue. When the timer finally sounded, Jablonski began to clap.

"Okay, so that was pretty good, eh? O'Dell, I counted nineteen push-ups there, that sound right to you?" The pixie pilot rolled over onto her back and gasped a bit, holding up a shaky thumbs-up. "But you- fifty-one push-ups! That's outstanding, huh? Way to go Gavarus!"

"T...T... Thanks." Gavarus stuttered nervously, pausing to rest on her elbows. "Do we even want to know what you do in two minutes?"

"Nahhhhh! It doesn't work that way, yannow. You just gotta do better than your personal best every time. See, you aren't competing against anybody but yourself here," said the petty officer who looked like she could intimidate the fat off someone just by growling at it. Internally Gavarus suspected her dream girl turned taskmistress probably didn't do push-ups for fear of moving the starship off course with every push. "So two minutes for rest, then we're gonna do the run. Or it can be a swim if you want?"

"I'll run! I canna swim worth a darn, I allays sink," O'Dell volunteered. Which made little sense until one considered that she had very little to no body fat or muscle mass, which meant that her natural buoyancy was quite low, and half her effort in swimming was spent keeping her head above water.

Grunting, Gavarus struggled back up to her feet as she tried to catch her breath. "Well... on top of that... neither of us brought suits... so.. I guess... UGH... we can try and run. I guess." The awkward Tellarite tried to put on a forced smile so she didn't look miserable with the entire affair for the benefit of Jablonski.

"Aye, we'll run together, and we'll swear never to quit urgin' the other on, right? Or til yer first cramp, which is prolly g'win ta be aboot forty meters in. Tis a 2.4k run, an old Earth tradition Starfleet somehow sticks to. I bin trying ta do twice this every day down here in the gym, while you been eatin' donuts. Ye need one now, maybe wi' sprinkles on it?" O'Dell grinned at Gavarus.

Looking down at O'Dell, Gavarus grimmaced. "I'm going to cramp and pass out and fall on you, just so you know."

"Like hell ye will, ye great tub 'a guts. I kin run away, joost watch me!" O'Dell, interlaced her fingers and cracked her knuckles out confidently before Jablonski suddenly loomed up behind her.

"Say, seeya takin a stretch there?" the petty officer enthused as O'Dell jumped, startled by the big woman's sudden appearance in her blind spot.

Casually, Jablonski leaned into a groin stretch. "Oh yeah, even once you've stretched and warned up, limbering up is important, doncha know. Especially before a big run where you wanna make the time count." Leaning to the other side to stretch her left inner thigh, the personal trainer resident of Gymnasium 1 continued. "So I'm gonna do some stretches- you maybe wanna do 'em with me? Limber up a little?"

Watching and only somewhat slackjawed, Gavarus muttered, "L .. Limber... Yeah...." Then, shaking off the moment of staring, the exhausted Engineer tried to match Jablonski's position, stretching out her own thick thighs. "Yeah... YES! Right. Stretching. So I don't die. Stretching. Like this?"

"Yeah, sure... angle like this... yeah, you too O'Dell, don't you stretch before you run every day? Yeah no, you should stretch. Here, follow me, do what I do, okay?" The petty officer walked the duo through a series of basic stretched, ending in a long overhead stretch, side to side. Okay, so here, we're gonna run right over here. The forcefields keep pace for us and give us tread. I'll run with you, so I can set the pace and encourage you both to keep up. Keep abreast of me if you can, or just chase me, but do your best to keep up, okay?"

Petty Officer Jablonski did a waist twist, then reversed it. Somehow chasing her didn't sound like the worst idea in the world.

"Keep a-what-now? Right. Got it." Gavarus muttered trying desperately to remember she was there to exercise, not oogle. Shaking her head to try and focus, the trembling Tellarite stepped behind the towering security goddess onto the force field pad and almost immediately felt her hooves slide out from under her as she stumbled forward, off balance.

"Oh SHIIIIIIIIIIITTT!" Gavarus yelled as she fell forward trying to avoid hitting either woman on the way down.

Which was when Jablonski grabbed her by the workout pants, far and away the strongest garment the irascible engineer was wearing. Sweeping her hooves back underneath the tall Telarite, Jablonski set the woman back on her feel like Gavarus could do for O'Dell.

"See, gotta practice that language thing, Gavarus, so it doesn't flunk you. Okay, so what we'll do is hit the forcefield running, so we start off on regular ground then run onto the forcefield, okay? Easy stuff once you know what you're doing, right? Okay,m here we go, try to keep up, ready?" Then Jablonski ran onto the forcefield and started running in front of Gavarus in tight black shorts.

"There's the best motivation ye'll ever get in this lifetime," O'Dell whispered before taking off running after the petty officer, moving in to start keeping pace with her.

'this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy.' Gavarus thought to herself as she did her best to run onto the force field after Jablonski and O'Dell.

It took a second of wobbling, but the unsteady Engineer found an awkward stride on her disproportionately spindly hooves. It was slightly awkward to keep pace and not overstep or understep as her legs were actually fairly strong.

But her ample middle gave her all the protestations it could as she huffed and puffed behind the source of her inspiration. "I... could... always... just.. get a... job... on... a... freighter! Oh Gods... I'm... Gonna... die..."

"Ach! Nobody ever succeeded by givin oop, Briaar! So ye run til ye canna run no more, then ye walk a bit, then ye run s'more. Ye kin do it!" O'Dell chastized from the other side of the moutain of muscle between them, who then spoke up.

"Hey, so, not to tell ya what to do, but if you can keep in step with me, it gets easier. We're about the same height, so we have a similar stride. And doing it in cadence lets you focus on that instead of how much your body wants to quite. Now, try controlling your breathing with me... like this." As she spoke, Jablonski emphasized her breathing do the tubby Tellarite could hear it as she did so.

"Inhale one two, exhale one two. If you can't breathe you can't run, so that's a big thing, right? So focus on your breathing and keeping in step with me, okay?" The genial Jablonski instructed as she jogged, and as she started softly singing cadence, both women were reminded of their days at Starfleet Academy, and runs they had taken as part of the regularly scheduled exercise regimen enforced there. Which was likely the last time either was in any sort of decent shape.

"I don't know but I've been told...
Starfleet captains are quite bold.
Alpha, Beta, Delta quad
Boldly going makes you odd.

Sound off, 1,2...
Sound off, 3,4.
Sound off one, two, one two... three four!"

Doing her best to match Jablonski's breathing, Gavarus forgot for the instant just how much she hated running. She listened to Jablonski and even O'Dell, who was breathing along with the same rhythm as she heard her own hoarse breath rasping outward.

"Okay... I'm... Breathing...*wheeze*... technically."

"As long as you can still breathe, you can still move. So stick with us, okay? We're all in it together!" the practically paleozoic petty officer encouraged. "Howbout you, Ensign O'Dell, you keeping up?"

"Aye! Tis easier wi' yuir breathin an' keepin a steady pace, yuir right!" the Mariposian moppet nodded, her hair in an enormous poof ponytail bobbing along behind her. She'd been at this for a week now, so she had at least started moving. The course corrections from the local gymnasium supervisor were making it much easier for her though, as it had for military recruits since the dawn of the marching column.

"Lookit ye go, yuir doin' great Briaar!" O'Dell chirped, hanging back a bit to eye her porky piggie pal who was sweating and huffing in time. "I'll eat me words and admit it- 100 meters and yuir still nae clutchin yer side! Look at ye go, aye?"

"I can't... Stop... to... Grab my side..." Gavarus panted out. "Or... I... I'm pretty sure... I'll... just... die. Actually... I think... I might... already be... dead... and... once I stop... moving... the message... Ohmygawd... Will... reach... my brain."

"Yeah, see, now you're talkin! You get that disconnect where you stop listening to your body tell you ya can't do it, and you do it! You just never know what's inside ya until you go digging down reaching for it doncha know!" the cheerleading gymbot continued to offer advice. On the bright side, she was still speaking between puffed breaths, and she was chugging at the same military pace, building up a sweat just like the two out-of-shape slackers she was tugging along in her wake.

"Holy... You're saying... This is... A good... feeling?" Gavarus groaned as she felt her legs wobbling as her lungs felt frozen and the stitch that O'Dell had been all but promising in her side began to stab at her.

"Ow! Shit!?!" Gavarus started slowing down to a slow, limping half-walk, half-stumble.

"That's it, that's it there... see, yer down, but yer not out, yer still tryin! See, that's the way ya do it. If you can't run you walk, and if you can't walk you crawl, right?" Jablonski was still keeping pace, although O'Dell was looking red in the face and having trouble keeping up with the titanic taskmistress.

"Yeah... A... about that." Gavarus wheezed as her knees buckled and her feet were pulled by the motion of the force field treadmill out from under her.

"Ohsiiit!" the titanic Tellarite muttered as she fell hard to the floor with a thud. Landing on her belly, and laying face down, panting, the force field slowly began pushing her back. Inch by inch Gavarus slid backwards until half of her was off the force field onto the regular mat as she panted and groaned.

"Okay, sure, that's not so good," Jablonski admitted as she easily stepped off the forcefields to heft Gavarus back up onto her hooves, seemingly with minimal effort. "Okay shipmate, let's walks it off, right? C'mon, you just stay in one spot you'll just seize up. Let's walk that off, okay?" Literally supporting her, the Security officer steadied the overweight engineer and kept her wobbly legs moving forward.

Even as she did so O'Dell began to flag a bit without the NCO setting cadence for her, and the burly bodybuilder put her hand on O'Dell's back to continue to urge her on. "Count it with your paces, Ensign. You can do it, I know you can."

Somewhat shocked at the comparable easy in which Jablonksi lifted her nearly 180 kilogram bulk back to her feet, Gavarus was trying to catch her breath and force her wobbly legs to move. "Yeah... I'm... I'm flunking out... for sure. Ohmygawds... What the frickin' hell."

"Naww, see, you'da flunked cuz I carried you a little there maybe but you don't flunk completely unless ya quit. And you're not gonna quit on me now, are ya big girl? You're a big tough engineer, you can finish a mile and a half, right?" Jablonski was picking up the pace as she spoke, getting Gavarus shuffling along. "Besides, today isn't the test. Today's the day you realized you had to pass the test and did something about it, doncha know?"

"Offer her a... donut if she... finishes," O'Dell wheezed, still gamely shuffling along although at a much slower pace than when Jablonski was setting cadence.

"Well sure, carb loading can be important," the large and in charge petty officer agreed. "Cuz you don't wanna change your shape, you just wanna be fit, right Gavarus?"

"Oh... My gods..." Gavarus grumbled as she tried to keep walking forward back on to the treadmill, knees wobbling. "You are never...letting... that donut... frickin'... GO... are you... Fee?"

"Nope!" the cheerful leprechaun replied as she huffed along.

"You suck... so... so hard... that your suck... has its own... frickin' event horizon!" Gavarus griped at her grinning best friend.

Picking the pace back up ever so slightly, the exhausted engineer switched to the most physically awkward mini-jog ever. Her gut undulated from side to side while her arms flopped, half lifted. "I think... I could... eat a whole... box of 'em... on a... *Huff" frickin' holosuite somewhere! That... sounds... FUN!"

Eventually the 2.4K was done, and Jablonski walked them through some cool-downs, and as they did some stretches to keep their muscles from seizing up, the powerhouse petty officer reviewed their scores.

"So, good news is you finished, which is great good job, both of you!" Jablonski offered as encouragement up front. "So O'Dell, you got in 42 curl-ups and Gavarus, you got 22. Just to pass the test at all you need to do 54 in that 2 minutes. So a little work for improvement there, eh?"

Panting as she leaned on her weak knees, Gavarus gasped. "Fifty... Fifty FOUR?! That's more than double... Oh frickin' hell."

"Then on push-up, O'Dell, you got 19, while Gavarus, you did fifty-one. Twenty is the minimum for this one, so Gavarus, you actually scored outstanding on that one, and O'Dell, you were really close, so way to go, both of you, eh?" The bucktoothed brawler smiled, a close-mouthed affair that did not show her teeth, of which she was self-conscious.

"Okay... I can... I can figure out how to complain about that later." Gavarus muttered with a similarly close-mouthed grin, as the tubby Tellarite was also self-conscious about her teeth, due in large part to the prominent lower tusks of her race that she had shaved down as regularly as was possible, bit still stuck out when she smiled.

"Now as far as the run goes... 2.4K in under 15 minutes is what we're aiming for. O'Dell, you came in at 18.2 minutes- really not bad, Ensign. I see you've been working on it and it shows," Jablonski gently patted the tiny test pilot on the shoulder, her hand only managing two fingers of contact as she worked to not hurt the spindly starfighter. "Now Gavarus, you came in at 23 minutes, which may sound like a lot. But that's your first time in a long time, and you finished- that's the real important thing. So tomorrow it'll get a little easier, and the day after and the day after."

Looking down at O'Dell, Gavarus winced as she silently mouthed, Tomorrow?!

"Neither of you is in irredeemable bad shape. You just need a little time and practice to be able to pass your PT quals. Today you took some real good steps, and I'm proud of you, huh? Huh? Proud of yourselves maybe a little too, huh?" The walking wall offered some cheerful encouragement.

Staring at the object of her affections as if Jablonski had just sprouted two extra heads, Gavarus's heart sank just a little. And not because of having to do all of this again the next day. Ultimately, she looked at the woman of her dreams and began to realize that the two quite probably had absolutely nothing in common whatsoever.

Her breath was just beginning to come back to her as the irascible engineer righted herself. "Yeah. Uh... proud." But the sink in her energy was clear on her deflated face. "Um... Thanks for helping. I... we... We really appreciate it. Yeah."

“Aye! And thanks for nae makin us feel like fools in the process, that helps a boonch,” O’Dell managed to wheeze as sweat dripped off her chin, and she accepted the bottle of water Jablonski handed to her, as well as to gavarus.

“So tomorrow morning you’re gonna wake up way stiff. So be sure to do those stretches I showed ya, before you go to bed and when you wake up, as well as before and after your work out, okay?” The solid Security officer offered. “You’ve still got three weeks until you have to pass your PTF, so you shold be able to get in enough practice to pass it easy at this rate. Good job, huh? Good hustle!”

If Jablonski noticed a change in Gavarus’ demeanor, it didn’t show as she continued to cheer them on to further fitness goals to which neither particularly aspired to, yet were both going to have to embrace.

"Uh... yeah. " Gavarus continued, feeling unusually awkward now as she had no idea what to say next to the living work out tape of energy that was Jablonski. "Stretching. We will both totally remember to stretch, right Fee?"

“Aye. Explains why me legs wouldnae work right after the first few tries- stretching, who knew?” O’Dell opined, which brought forth a throaty chucle from the tank in a t-shirt.

“Awwww, you both learned all that at the Academy, you don’t fool me,” Jablonski, looked mildly self-conscious as she spoke. “But I’m happy to help out, and I’ll do your PT test with you every day if you want, to help make sure you pass it?”

"Ha. Ha ha... yeah. At the academy." Gavarus forced an awkward chuckle, when the sad fact is that it was clear that both women dumped the physical education part of their academy training out of the minds the second they could. But, as she spoke, Gavarus realized what Jablonski had just said.

"Every... Uh... Every day?" The tubby Tellarite was frantically trying to think of an excuse to not have to do this every day. "Uh... Fee... aren't we doing... flight sim testing tomorrow morning? Right?!"

“Aye, sure, flight sim testing…” O’Dell frowned as she looked up at the two considerably larger life forms than herself. “But, um, ah, I’m still gonna come to the gym… I need ta be able ta run a ways and be in better shape so’s me heart don’t burst tryin’ to fly the you-know-what.”

To all the world, O’Dell looked like a guilty child. She felt guilty for wanting to better herself, guilty for lying to the hulking gymbot for Gavarus and guilty for being so out of shape in the first place. She knew a true friend would like and cover for her pal, but Briaar Gavarus was the one who had suggesting exercising in the first place. Now she looked miserable and she wanted to be somewhere else, so O’Dell was confused and a little upset by the turn of events, but gamely tried to play along.

Looking down at O'Dell, Gavarus began gnashing her teeth behind her lips. Even when the miniscule Maraposian wasn't actively trying to apply guilt, Briaar Gavarus was completely defenseless against it. It was like a cosmic force that just radiated out of the tiny redhead.

Letting out a big sigh, Gavarus slapped her forehead in an exaggerated, cartoonish fashion. "Wait. The testing was moved to oh nine thirty hours. We... we can totally be here." Awkwardly, Gavarus smiled a wide, toothy grin that let her nubby tusks show a little more than she'd like. "Sorry. Power dumb of me. We will totally be here. Same time, right Fee?"

The minuscule Mariposian smiled wide, her mood instantly changing to one of gleeful excitement. “Aye, that’s the spirit! We’re g’win ta whip that test somethin’ fierce, aye? Set records for the department even!” If enthusiasm alone could power a starship, O’Dell on a good day could pull it off. Bouncing about excitedly, her cheer was somewhat contagious.

"How do you have the energy to do that?" Gavarus grumbled, favoring her aching side.

As for Jablonski, seeing Gavarus’ wide grin expose her lower tusks made the shy Security officer break into a full smile of her own, revealing overlong front teeth that seemed too long and wide for her mouth, creating a definite overbite that it was clear she was self-conscious about, but emboldened by Gavarus’ on tusky grin.

"So... see you... Uh... first thing, then Coach Jablonski." Gavarus returned the grin, her awkwardness pushed aside in the moment, as the girl of her dreams renewed, was smiling at her.

Placing her hand on Gavarus’ shoulder, the burly beauty grinned openly, revealing her rather prominent buck teeth once more. “The first day is the worst, but if you can keep it up, you’ll feel better, sleep better and fitness just raises your quality of life. I’ve got confidence in you!”

“Aye, me too! Now I'm confident we’d better get a shower before we report for duty, aye? Otherwise we’re liable ta get written up for bringin' the funk!” O’Dell chirped as she skipped away.

“Your little girlfriend always like that?” Jablonski asked, chucking a thumb in O’Dell’s direction.

Smiling slightly, Gavarus responded before she took in exactly what Jablonski had said. "Yeah. O'Dell seems to draw energy from some kind of pocket dimen... Wait, what?!"

As she spoke, her sphincter clenched as her face went a little flush. "She's... We're not... I mean, yeah. She's my best friend but she's not my GIRLfriend!

Stammering, the words just kept tumbling out. "I don't have... Uh... I'm not... *Ahem*... We're not a couple."

“Oh!” Jablonski’s face actually lit up a bit at that news. “I didn’t… I mean, I don’t… ah, friends, right. I just… you’re always together, so... and I… sorry, I kind of don’t get people. I didn’t mean anything bad, honest. Sorry..."

Confused and stammering, Gavarus didn't know what was happening as she glanced over at Fiona, who was... gone. Vanished into thin air apparently. Or as she would put it, 'Pessed oaf so's you could have some privacy, aye?'

"We're... Really good friends. We work together and we hang out a lot, but.... I... I... don't get people either. But we get each other so we're friends. Ya' know? I don't know. I can't stop talking. Shit." Gavarus stammered, biting her tongue to make herself shut up.

"Nahh, s'okay, I get nervous with people too. Plus they aren't used to crewmen our size, right? I even think I'm near a doorway I'm already duckin, yannow? And y'see 'em jumpin' back all spooked, right?" Though her voice was low and soft, still, the big girl commiserated with the big pig.

Listening, Gavarus nodded awkwardly. She was actually talking with Jablonski without burping, farting or throwing up and she desperately wanted to not jinx the situation. "Yeah... When they want to torture you, they'll put you in a Type 15 shuttle. It's more comfortable to fly in a torpedo tube, I think."

"But... Ahhh... O'Dell was right. We've got duty soon... so... I need to go shower and get ready. But... Um... Tomorrow morning?" Gavarus tilted her head with a cricked half-grin.

"I'll be here at 04:30!" Jablonski called back, wiping off a bench and strolling over to grab a pair of barbells, programming them for her preferred weight setting, then beginning to heft and pull at them in a complex curl of some sort, the straining muscles of her biceps and forearms expanding from the effort.

As she watched with eyes wider than seemed possible, Gavarus swallowed and began slowly backing up to leave. "O... Okay. S... See you then..."

Then she almost broke into a light run to get out of the gym and back into the corridor. As the door wooshed closed, Gavarus backed up against the wall and began a string of verbal diarrhea. "Oh sweet evil Gods of smut and cooch. Ohmigod. She frickin' talked to me. She frickin' talked to me and SSSSHIIIITTT!!!! LEG CRAMP!!! GYAAAHH!!!"

"Suck it oop and walk et off, sausage fest," O'Dell teased, as she was leaning against the wall where she had been waiting for her porcine pal to emerge from the gymnasium of Amazon delights. "C'mon, we got time for a shower and a uniform sniff test before duty, and you ain't even had yuir breakfast."

As if by magic, O'Dell produced a glazed donut, which she offered up to her best pal.

As the doors to the R&D department hissed open, Ensigns Briaar Gavarus and Fiona O'Dell made their entrance to an empty room. "Oh, sweet evil hell, thank the gods nobody's here."

Gavarus grumbled as the Extremely sore Tellarite Engineer waddled inside. She moaned as she creaked through the door looking like she had two broken knees and a full diaper. "Gyaagh... I hurt in places I didn't know existed."

"It gets better. Take a few pills and it'll stave off the stiffness fuir a while, an' hopefully we've nae mooch physical for you ta do today." Big green eyes popping open, O'Dell bounced about a bit as an idea bubbled to the surface. "If I'm flyin, yuir sittin', aye? So let's take the Thunderchicken oot for a spin, even simulated! Or I could teach ye how to pilot a cyclone proper? That's sittin down work at least?"

"Pills sounds good. Whiskey sounds better. BUT we're on duty, so some replicated pain relievers will do." Gavarus limped over to the replicator and ordered up two pain relievers and a glass of water. As she did, she grabbed a PaDD left on her workstation and checked it out.

"Well, Ensign Gonadie is in a meeting with Commander ThunderJugs and Lieutenant Murder-Punch. So, she left it to us to hit whatever on our checklist we want to do." Rolling her stiff neck, the Porcine engineer was more crotchety than normal due the soreness of their intense workout earlier in the morning setting into her lazy muscles.

"And while I would pay to watch you try to walk the Thunderchicken right now, that requires me standing in the observation area. Soooo, Cyclone training it is."

"Yuir nae standin if I'm in the simulator. And I been runnin, ye know? Only a week, but I kin do it., And those stretches worked, I feel like a pot o' gold!" O'Dell grinned. "Joost that me arems won't proper straighten oot, but that's nae s'bad."

"Alreet, let's take the simulator for this, because we've nae flight clearance and we're liable ta be at warp. So ye kin learn ta fly the Starfleet way- with hours of simulations! Oi, Computer," O'Dell called out, "Set us oop wi' a pair a' Cyclones in the simulator for flight practice starting on the flight deck, aye?"

The computer chirruped, then replied =^= Simulation requested prepared. You may enter when ready.=^=

"Age before beauty?" O''Dell gestured grandly.

"This shit needs to kick in faster." Gavarus moaned as she walked slowly to the simulator, her muscles still protesting the decision. "And I'm only 26, ya' know."

"Aye, but I'm the pretty one!" O'Dell chirped as she followed Gavarus onto a simulation of the Hera's flight deck.

At the side of the simulated Cyclone, the rotund Tellarite tried lifting her leg up to lift herself into the cockpit. "Oh, for @#$&'s sake, this is ridiculous. I did the stretches too! Why do I feel like I pissed off the Lieutenant?"

"Mayyyyybe ye should try some more stretches... ye know, try to stay limber? Or ye could fall ion then sort yuirself oot, but I dinna think that'll work as well for ye as me. "C'mon ye loafer, I'll do 'em with ye, aye?"

As Gavarus shot back some weapons-grade stink eye to her pint-sized pal, she smirked slightly. "Sounds like a plan, Fee. Here... high five."

Gavarus held her hand up just high enough to barely exceed what she observed was the maximum amount the miniscule Maraposian could successfully extend her own arms after the push-ups the pair had done.

Without thinking, the midget Mariposian whipped her arm up, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden shock of pain that lanced through her arm as she did so, before she gritted her teeth and tapped Gavarus' hand.

"...ouch..."

Looking down, Gavarus cricked her eyebrow and made a tilted half-smirk. "Let's both work on the stretching. Neither of us have room to give the other much shit here. Uuugh."

As she groaned, she finally hoisted her ample posterior up and cleared the exterior to flump hard into the cockpit. "Okay. I'm in. Now I need a cookie and a nap."

"I wasnae teasin' ye, I was tryin ta help, ye wicked warthog!" O'Dell spat as she climbed into her own cyclone. "Although a cookie and a nap sound grand. Alreet, ye know the preflight checklist, aye?"

Looking at the console, Gavarus raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Uh... Tuuuurn it on and it goes 'woosh'? I have no idea. What, is it like a systems check? Make sure all the different stuff is set up and responding?"

"Aye... sorry, I woulda thought engineers knew this stoof. Okay, aye, it's testin everything to make sure it all works afore ye fly it. Tell ye what, start by loggin into the console, aye?" Within a few minutes, O'Dell had walked her flight engineer through the preflight checklist and explained the reasoning for each of the checks.

"Now in a perfect world, the Cyclones are meant to be flown wearin' EVA suits, on account of it bein' a fighter craft. But we'll skip that since this is a sim and I'm too sore to get into that bodysuit right now," O'Dell admitted with a grunt, stretching both arms over her head, which she could do in the cockpit that passed as roomy for her. "Whattya say you adjust the flight couch so's yuir comfortable and we'll work on powering up and takeoff?"

"Yeah. That I know how to do. I installed the things on the real Cyclones." Gavarus perked up slightly. Not only was the space-ibuprofen kicking in, but she was starting to feel a bit more comfortable in the cockpit, understanding things better.

"Like... I know all the physical systems. I just..." The irritable Engineer admitted, "...I didn't remember the checklist part. The order for..."

Sighing, Gavarus continued, almost reluctantly but for it being her best friend. "I know what I know. I know what I need to know to be an engineer. Everything else, I just... find an excuse to not have the time to remember. Like flight checklists or... ya' know... interacting with people."

"Waaaaahhl, that's why the universe cursed ye wi' me, because I remember alla this and I know how ta people. Kinda. A little bit. I kin get by for short encounters at least, afore people get sick 'a me. It's okay, Briiar, I gotchye. You teach me how to fix things and I kin teach you how to pilot, aye? S'what friends do, aye?" O'Dell was punching up a few systems, and while she spoke, she elevated the craft two meters off the deck. "So engage the antigrav system and nae the thrusters. Let me walk ye through it..." Over the next few minutes, O'Dell explained the different thrust systems and how they all coordinated, in a way that she knew the engineer would understand- tying the mechanical systems into actual application for flight."

Working her way through the flight controls and systems, Gavarus was almost smiling as O'Dell's explanations were making sense to the flustered engineer. "Okay... So with the antigrav systems active, you can allot only minimal power to the thrusters for significant maneuverability. Okay."

As she spoke, Gavarus tapped the thruster controls and put her simulated Cyclone into a slow but controlled spin as the ship turned in place as if parked on a lazy Susan. "HAA! Okay. I think I'm getting this."

“Aye, see? Now wi’ the inertial dampeners engaged, so long as ye concentrate on yuir instruments and not the view oot the cockpit, ye kin do the kinda tricks that I do. Now, mind ye, in stellar maneuvering, ye kin do this sort of thing to spin, reorient then apply thrust for some pretty extreme maneuvers that other pilots willnae expect. But that’s a wee bit advanced for our first class. So, were we going to leave the flight deck, what would be our next step?" O’Dell wanted to ensure she was being comprehensive, so she was making sure to cover the basics as well as alluding to advanced theories and stratagems. For now, one of the absolute basics.

"Next step? Well, aside from all kinds of protocol asking permission and shit, I guess... enter our departure instructions into the... helm thingy... and minimal thrusters until we're in open space?" Gavarus stated the answer as an uncertain question.

“Aye, that’s exactly it, well done, Briaar!” O’Dell chirped through the comms. “First, file a flight plan, so Hera traffic control knows what’s oop and ye dinna get pegged as someone stealin' a ship. Then, ye engage maneuvering thrusters only in spacedock- that’s regulations too, right there, and fuir the safety of all involved. Tis easy to imagine that impulse power isn’t that fast, but in a relatively small space as this, going 1/100th the speed of light is still just shy of 3,000 kilometers per second, and even as good as I am, I’d be a bug splatter on the windshield if I had to make a course correction at that speed on the flight deck.”

Smiling a bit, in spite of herself, Gavarus was a little proud of herself for starting to understand what Fiona was telling her. "Okay... so... systems are all checked. Flight plan isssss filed. Now, for pulling in and out of the bay, is that something that's preprogrammed in or do you do that manually?"

"See, now that's a good question. See alla them lines on the deck? They're flight paths. We call the tower, they give us a flight path, and on thrusters we follow whatever flight path they give us, and follow it off the flight deck. Then we follow the vector til we get clear of the Hera, then we're off! Alreet, ye wanna give it a go? S'easy as pie, Gavarus me old ham hock!" Realizing what she'd said, O'Dell amended her statement. "And we might want to think aboot breakfast, because I'm starvin!"

"Oh my frickin' GODS, yes! I think I could eat a you-sized anything at this point. But I'm feeling like I'm on a roll..." Gavarus paused, thinking longingly on the value of a steaming hot, toasted roll dripping in butter before snapping out of it. "Okay! No! We got this. Let's do this before I forget how! So... what's our launch Victor?”

“Victor, vector ober, dunn,” O’Dell muttered. “Look, tis nae hurry and we’re only g’win oot for a joyride, and tis all simulated. What say we bring it down and go get a bite? Chief Gonadie won’t mind, we have our own replicator in department, and yuir only g’win ta git hangry the longer we wait. Besides, I hafta piddle,” O’Dell admitted.

"Yeah, okay. I can agree with all of these plans." Gavarus replied, though she was actually getting slightly excited to fly. Though she was a 2 meter tall, 180 kg. Pig woman and she was extremely hungry as well, so she conceded. "Computer, save simulation."

With a chirrup, the computer responded. "Let's get our grub on, then Fee. Well... after you pee."

Twenty minutes later, relieved and with half a hot meal in them both, Gavarus’ PaDD dinged with an incoming message for O’Dell from Commander Paris, requiring a security clearance thumbprint ID to continue to the message.

With a mouth still full with a fork full of breakfast potatoes, Gavarus grumbled as she looked at her PaDD. Swallowing, she griped as she picked up the PaDD to check the message. "Oh, what fresh hell is this?"

Pressing her thick thumb on the touch screen, the PaDD chirruped, then a second screen came up asking for O'Dell's thumbprint. Gavarus handed the PaDD over, looking confused. "Fee... It's something for you from Paris. Sent to my PaDD for some damn reason. Here."

Frowning slightly, the pixie pilot set down her bowl of breakfast baked beans and eyed the tablet suspiciously. Tabbing in her thumbprint for verification, she cocked her head quizzically, making her mop or crimson curls bounce about. “Uh… it looks like it need ye to sign into it too, Briaar. What do ye reckon this is all aboot? D’ya think we’re in trouble for mockin’ Commander Funbags?”

Pressing her thumb again, Gavarus shrugged. "At this point, who the hell knows. Probably. I swear, to be in command on this ship seems to require watching everything us peons do."

As the thumbprint recognition was confirmed, the screen sprang to life with the image of the aforementioned first officer, whose face was grave as she addressed the unlikely duo.

“Ensigns O’Dell and Gavarus, this message is alpha priority and classified as top secret. It is for your eyes only, and should only be viewed in a secure setting. No one else is to be witness to not be made aware of the contents of this message. Ensure that you are alone one a secure location and activate sensor countermeasures to ensure absolute privacy before beginning playback. That's an order. This message will pause while these steps are undertaken.” The Commander’s tone was even, but there was an undercurrent of tension in her voice... not that either of them were that familiar with the usual speaking habits of the first officer, but it was plainly evident.

Looking at O'Dell will an extremely confused expression, Gavarus raised her eyebrows. "Uh... oooookay. Uh... probably not here. Um... I'm authorized to use Gonadie's office as her assistant chief. That's probably better, right?"

The tubby Tellarite asked as a question, but began getting up stiffly to head out of the lunch room which didn't feel quite as secure as the message indicated was needed.

“Aye, aye.. the fook izzis abbot? D’ye think they’re joost testin us? What does command want wi’ us? We’re a pilot and an engineer, fer crissakes! Why is it top secret? What does that even mean? We’re supposed to use anti sensing? D’you even know how to turn that on? Why can’t anybody else know, is it a conspiracy? The rise of Section 32? D’ye think she heard us?” While an oddly talented and skilled pilot, capable of handling a starship or a mech with considerable finesse, anxiety tended to cause O’Dell to panic. Which occasionally produced a volume of verbal vomit of stream of consciousness babble.

"I don't frickin' know, Fee." Gavarus talked as she walked, looking at the PaDD as the extremely nervous pair made their way into Ensign Gonadie's office. "Okay... Uh... I guess we just tell the.computer..."

Looking up, Gavarus pursed her brow slightly and spoke to the room. "Uh... computer. Secure the office and turn on the... uh... what did she call it... active sensor countermeasures?"

=^=Please provide security confirmation.=^=

"Shit..." Gavarus muttered. Uh... Okay... Authorization Gavarus, B. Ensign. Assistant Research and Development Chief. Access code X-51-IM2020?"

=^=Confirmed. Room secured.=^=

"Okay... Now what do we do, Fee?" The anxious engineer asked.

“What’re ye askin me for- wait, noo, the message, we play the rest of the message,” O’Dell circled around Gavarus as she talked, her nerves already shot by the fear of what this was all about. Putting both hands behind a chair, she shoved it, eyes popping open wide as she made a sharp “Yeeeehee hee.... oh sweet mother McCray, that hurt. Ohhhhh me arms feel like rubber bands that have been snapped too hard. Ooooch ooch ouchie...”

"Shit, Fee!" Gavarus winced for her diminutive best friend.

Still she persisted, and got the chair next to the other one facing the desk, and the little lass climbed into the chair next to her partner in crime to see what the big secret was all about. When she spoke, she sounded reasonably sure of herself. “G’wan... m’good, I kin handle it. Play the message.”

"It's okay. She can't possibly make us secure the frickin' room just to yell at us, right?" Gavarus said, asking as a question again. "Uh.. okay. Let's... Go."

Pressing the button to continue the message, Gavarus held her breath for a second.

Onscreen, the somewhat intimidating line officer waited with a somewhat patient expression for about seven seconds, then she cocked her head slightly and began addressing the sensor once more. "I'll assume my orders have been carried out. Let me express first," The first officer held up an imperious finger like a schoolmarm. Then a smile spread across her face. "You are not in trouble. This is not a punishment, and you are not being reprimanded. You're may very well be about to earn your pay, Ensigns. So, welcome to the boarding party."

"Boarding WHAT now?" Gavarus exclaimed, having no idea what Rita Paris was talking about and was still expecting to be in trouble.

"In the upcoming Tribunal of the Artans, no matter how it goes, we expect ship to ship combat complete with boarding parties. Our opponent," Onscreen an image of Arenara Artan appeared, followed by a Miranda class basic specification sheet. "Has a highly modified and specialized Miranda class. I've got a holo of the bridge for you, conveniently enough, for you to mark your targets." Another datapacket arrived, complete with a thumbnail image of the bridge. "I've taken the liberty of identifying the stations for you so you can prioritize your targets."

"Because you, Ms. Gavarus, are going to beam our little engine of destruction right outside their shields, and she can make it from there. Your mission, Ensign O'Dell, is to pilot the Thunderchicken from the edge of their shields, penetrate the bridge of the enemy vessel from inside their shields. Which may or may not have rammed our own and turned bloodthirsty pirates against our crew. Regardless, when I signal you, your mission is to penetrate the enemy bridge and neutralize it. Demolish the stations and the vessel should be crippled. Assuming they don't have auxiliary control manned and ready, but if they do, that will enact plan B."

"The hard part of this mission is that I want their captain, 'Queen Arenara', captured alive. O'Dell, tag her with the laser tagging function of your weapon, and Ensign Gavarus, you will use that for site to site beaming, to our brig."

"Take a moment amongst yourselves to digest. I'll wait." With that the sensor appeared to be pointed at the ceiling, as the Commander was nowhere to be seen onscreen.

"Okay, what the @#$&!" Gavarus exclaimed. "Is she frickin' kidding?! That's... That's absolutely insane! Is... Is this for real? Isn't his some kind of weird test?"

"How're we supposed to get the Thunderchicken onto a transporter pad, she's too big. In vehicle mode maybe, but... kin the personnel transporters do that much mass..." O'Dell paused in her working out of the logistics of the plan to look up at Gavarus. "Well, if it's a test, mebbe that's part of it. Should we... pause the message...?" O'Dell asked. Then her eyes got wide and she pointed to the PaDD in horror. Climbing up with a grunt to stand in her chair, she leaned over to hiss a whisper in a pig's ear.

"That's nae a recording, this is live! She kin hear us reet now!"

"What? No way. She said it was a message. She... Shhhh..." Gavarus replied in slight shock, stopping mid-curse, trying to think if she had said anything overtly horrible. "Um... C... C... Commander?"

The camera angle tilted, and shifted as something blocked the scanner, then they were looking at the Commander in her office, as viewed from waist up in profile. Apparently, she had the PaDD she was calling them on propped up against something on her desk, and she was working on a few of them that were scattered amongst piles of PaDDs and flimsies on her cluttered desktop.

"Yes, I'm here, yes, it's a call, and yes, I tricked you. Ensigns who are not model officers and gentlemen tend to be a bit nervous around rank, which tends to lead to panic and lock up. So I was introducing you to the idea slowly, but I'm terrible at deception, so my ploy failed. Now," Paris turned to address them both once more. "Yes, I want to hear how you're going to pull this all off, and I want to hear any problems with the plan."

"Miss O'Dell?" The pint-sized pilot stiffened up, standing at attention in her chair. "You are a very small officer, and a lightweight alcoholic." At that, O'Dell looked stricken, but the Commander continued. "But when you are piloting that mecha, you are quick and clever and mighty. I'm sending you on this mission because you're the only pilot I want for the job."

"Miss Gavarus? You're bright and gifted, if surly and untidy. But you grasp all of this, and you're making it work. I need you both on this mission, at your best. I can't have that is you're afraid of the rank. So I want you both to relax, calm down, and start thinking this through for me so that when I call for the little banshee to tear through their hull and invade the bridge of the Bloody Rose- right?" Paris held up a hand and shook her head as she turned to another PaDD, multitasking as they worked. "Seriously, who names a starship something like that?"

Still staring, slack-jawed at the PaDD, Gavarus was letting the details and the deception swirl through her mind. "O... O... Okay... Uh... Um."

As usual, the generally gruff and sarcastic engineer began stuttering when she was seriously nervous, that the situation had her feeling very nervous. But she did her best to push past it in the terror of the moment.

"S... So... we need to beam the Thunderchicken either to the edge of another ship's shields or through them? Okay... If another ship has rammed us, shields aren't an issue. We'll be inside of their shield and, shit, with the cargo transporters, we can..." As Gavarus let the curse slip out her eyes bulged out of her head. "Uh... I apologize, Commander. I'm... I don't... I'm very sorry, Commander. I.... I... I'm just nervous and..."

"I'm a career Starfleet officer, Miss Gavarus. I've forgotten more dirty words than most people will ever hear. That said, I would appreciate it if you would please make the attempt to comport yourself in a top-secret command level briefing as though you ARE in a briefing, and not in 10-Forward." Picking up another PaDD, the buxom blonde in the tomboy haircut frowned as she continued.

As she did, Gavarus blushed seven shades of pink and she simply nodded in shame.

"Now, yes, if we're boarded then shields will not be an issue. However, I am more than likely not waiting for that eventuality to come to pass before deploying the... ugh, Thunderchicken. It has got to get a better name before we leave prototype." Paris was clearly going on, preoccupied as she was comparing notes from two different PaDDs as she spoke.

At least, until O'Dell interjected. "Banshee!"

"What's that, Ensign?" Paris asked, setting one of the PaDDs down and picking up a flimsy stack to sort through it.

"Ye said it yuirself a mo' a go, mum. Banshee class variable mode multipurpose vehicle- aye?" While she'd remained silent for the duration of the briefing, this was the first moment where O'Dell had felt she had something to contribute. "If we ever went to production and I was assigned one of me own, that's what I was g'win ta name her- the Banshee. But it's a right proper name for the craft. If'n yuir askin', mum. Commander. Sir."

"Just ma'am or Commander Paris will do, Miss O'Dell. While I am certain that the gender binary is a laughable dinosaur in the 25th century, I prefer feminine pronouns. That said, your idea isn't a bad one- I'll take it under consideration." Paris turned to look at the screen and offer a friendly grin as a yeoman walked in to hand her a stack of PaDDs, which she directed to a cleared spot on her desk.

As Paris addressed the Yeoman on the other side, Gavarus silently curled her fat, three-fingered hand into a fist and bumped it in a congratulatory fashion against O'Dell's hand.

"Meanwhile, let us strategize. I still want to know how you are going to get a pilot and a vehicle assembled in the same space, given that the pilot has to be transported via personnel transporters for safety and I don't think the main transporters can manage the craft as well. Also, as transporting, no antimatter ordinance, so you will be going out sans photon torpedoes, Miss O'Dell. So configure your weapons load appropriately."

"Plasma missiles, mum. To burn through the hull while I'm a-poundin on it wi' phaser fire," O'Dell answered, clearly already working out how to accomplish her portion of the mission.

Knowing that attempting to beam anti-matter was an extremely risky proposal in the best of circumstances, Gavarus was finally starting to think a bit more like an engineer and it came across as a growing confidence in her otherwise anxious voice.

"Actually... Commander... I think the problem of beaming a ship with the pilot in her seat has... I read about this when I got the assignment to start working on the Cyclones. It was called the... uh... Paris Protocols, actually. It required being able to beam one of the Cyclones, with a pilot, together. Even beamed inside a ship together."

"Lieutenant Dox had Ensign Gonadie already starting to work on reconfiguring the cargo transporters here for that. Since the EVA suit has a self-contained environmental system, that aspect isn't a factor in the beaming process. And the flight deck transporters have already begun being adjusted to allow for a ship and pilot to be transported safely together. It's still in the experimental phase, but I'm... uh... I know we can get it finished and completely safe in time, Commander."

"Make it happen, Miss Gavarus. O'Dell, review my targeting options. That first target is potentially critical, so I want it destroyed immediately. Then you have your recommended targeting. How do you plan to accomplish this?" Paris pursued the point, pressing the pixie pilot's planning.

Hopping down off the chair to snatch a PaDD off Gonadie's desk, O'Dell logged in and muttered to Gavarus to share the file, and as she opened it the holographic system running throughout the USS Hera came to life. A flawless holographic rendering of the enemy bridge sprang into being around them. O'Dell jumped a bit and made a "Yeet!' exclamation, startled by the sudden change, but she adapted quickly. Looking around, she considered the stations and the targeting priority list.

"What's the Agony Booth, Commander, and why's it so important? If I take out helm control or tactical it seems a higher priority target?" O'Dell asked, looking around the bridge.

"The device can fire all of the pain receptors in your body at once, Ensign. It will cripple you and render you unable to perform your duty, so it is vital that you eliminate that threat first." Paris spelled it out, matter-of-factly. O'Dell lined herself up with the main viewscreen, figured where on the outer hull of the bridge it would correspond with, and she nodded, mop of crimson curls bobbing in agreement.

"So I'll make me grand entrance through the bulkhead there, through the device to take it out wi'me stylish entry. Once in, I'll set off an EMP, I think I kin get a generator to add as an underslung or in a missile slot. While that's makin it lots of fun to be on the bridge, I'll assume the emergency shields will maintain the atmosphere, otherwise a lot of this is moot because the enemy crew is already dying in space- guess we need a plan to save them in that case, because Commander said captured alive at all costs."

"Except that if you set off an EMP, the emergency shields will be gone and the Thunderchicken shielding isn't good enough yet to protect itself." Gavarus interjected, hoping she wasn't saying anything too stupid. "But you'll have a full phaser array, so set on wide dispersal set to stun should give you time to get the target and cripple bridge control. Right?"

"Aye, that's good thinkin. Alreet, proceed to demolish helm and tactical with hollow point rounds that'll chew all that plasteel and aluminum to shreds. Assuming I have time I'll demolish the turbolift door then Engineering and Communications after that, and I dinna care what science has to say particularly, and I'll not shoot innyone that doesnae give me trouble."

"Hold on a second." Gavarus commented, pulling up her PaDD and calling up a holographic, exterior schematic of a Miranda class starship. "Look at this. If you're inside their shields, it's about ten steps for the Walker to the rear engineering dome. You can disable their warp core with a few solid shots straight down that shaft? Right? I mean, once we figure out how to get inside their shields."

"Let's stick to crippling the bridge, if you please," Paris countered. "It's far too easy to destroy a warp core messing about like that, and I want a starship full of live prisoners, not cooked atomic particles and cosmic dust where a starship used to be. Points for direct thinking on this one Miss Gavarus, but we'll stay with the safer plan. Well, good news, if there's to be no EMP, then your backup squad will be able to accompany you. We'll be beaming a security team right behind you. Ensign O'Dell, so as soon as you secure the bridge you'll have backup ready to board."

"Then... I'll make sure to boost the resolution on the flight deck's transporter. As long as the engines are off on the Chicken, this should work." Gavarus was typing away on her PaDD rapidly. "The math all works. But... Commander. I... uh... have a q... question."

"Not your problem Ensign, the Security team will be beaming from Main Transporter Room 2. That's why they haven't been a major component of the plan- they are back up for the primary mission. As for your question, I have found in my career in Starfleet that it is seldom important to be the smartest person in the room, but to ask the right question of the smartest person. Ask away, Ensign, what's on your mind?" the commander casually commented as she continued to work on more than one thing at a time while meeting with the dynamic duo.

"Y... Y... You said that this meeting... this mission... is classified." Gavarus asked nervously. "That we're not to talk about this with anyone. Uh... How are we supposed to prepare the cargo transporters and the Chicken and do any of this without anyone knowing? I mean... we check in for everything with Ensign Gonadie and Lieutenant Dox."

"The chain of command dictates that you obey the last lawful order given to you by a superior officer.," the Commander, who apparently delivered lectures like this in her sleep as she continued working on reviewing who knew what else while she explained her answer to Gavarus and O'Dell. "In this particular case, you have been sworn to secrecy by your Commander. Now, should you explain to the chief of your department what you are doing if she orders you to tell her, or should you adhere to the secrecy of the order from the higher ranking officer and express to the lower ranking officer that she should seek answers at the level at which the orders originated. Which one seems like the right answer to you in this case?"

Glancing down briefly at O'Dell with a confused and slightly frightened expression, Gavarus stuttered her reply feeling like she hadn't said anything right all day at this point "U.. uh... T... The last one... the last one... makes sense. Uh... I apologize again, Commander."

"Whatever for, Miss Gavarus?" the commander asked, a mild frown of concern settling onto her face. "You don't want to violate the chain of command, which is the right course. So you ask the issuer of said orders for clarification so that you can properly execute the order. Also the right move."

"Never be afraid to question the nature of an order to seek clarification, Ensign. A questioning mind is the mark of a good officer. Dumb officers who never ask questions often pretend they got it, then mess things up. I'm glad you asked." Paris looked at the sensor, looking out at the duo from onscreen. "If you've more questions, please, by all means do ask. Interaction produces better planning, particularly when we have time as a luxury to preplan and troubleshoot."

"Well... uh..."Gavarus called up the specs for the Thunderchicken on her PaDD. "I think we need to increase power to the Chicken's magnetic couplings so she can stay good and fixed to the ship no matter what they pull. And we need to get the mode conversion speed up so you can get in and out fast, Fee."

"Nay, I kin do the whole mission in Walker mode, nae need ta convert," O'Dell chimed in. "I've got maneuverin' thrusters and .4 impulse power in that mode."

"I do like yuir idea of the magnets though- kin we make 'em electromagnets I kin crank oop and doown? Or would we be better off usin' the inertial dampeners fuir that trick?" O'Dell's eyes got a bit wider and a gring spread across her face as she got excited by the possibilities. "Cuz I like the idea of bein' immovable if I need it. Like if they dinna have emergency forcefields on their bridge, aye?"

Looking over the data as she was crunching numbers, Gavarus replied. "E... e... electromagnets, I think. Using inertial dampeners would work too, but be a bigger drain on both ships power and the onboard computer's systems."

"We'll need to do some reconfiguring of the Chicken's weapons systems to optimize them for this." Gavarus said, partially thinking out loud, hoping she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. "But... I think we can have these upgrades and shh... We can have these upgrades and systems prepped and ready in... Wait... What is our timeline for getting this ready, Commander?"

"There you go, see? The important questions," Paris replied with a smile, though still not directed at the sensor. "Whatever you're going to do, I need her operational and ready for deployment in 48 hours. As for the mission itself, it might come at any time after that, so I'll need you on operational standby. Which means no drinking, no sleeping off a drunk and you'll need to be prepared to be deployed at a moment's notice," the curvaceous commander said rather pointedly.

The commander turned to address the sensor, fixing them both with a steely gaze for a change. "Ensign Gavarus, you'll be the hand on the beaming controls, as well as monitoring the ship's systems and the pilot's vitals, so Ensign O'Dell's life will literally be in your hands. As for our little Leprechaun, this is a dangerous mission. But I know you can do it, and your actions on this mission may well be saving countless lives and considerable bloodshed. In addition, it will likely inform Starfleet development of this project for years to come, so the fate of the variable mode fighter craft project is also in your hands."

In her head, the stressed out Tellarite was complaining to herself, 'Oh, Yay! Stress, stress everywhere, and not a.drop to drink.' But she instead put on an awkward attempt at a professional posture. "Yes, Commander. We'll have the Chicken. Uh, the Thunder... banshee... We'll have the Variable Mode fighter ready to go."

"Aye mum. We'll do ye proud and take the enemy bridge, storm it like a proper boarding party, we will. I'll get ye me loadout for approval before the end of shift, and We kin test the transporters as soon as they're ready. We'll nae letcha doown, Commander Thu-ah, Paris." O'Dell nearly stumbled to use one of the many colorful nicknames the duo had invented for the intimidating first officer, but rectified at the last second. It passed with one cocked eyebrow turned their way, before Commander Paris offered her motivational closing.

"All right, that's what I want to hear," Paris offered a half-smile to the sensor, then she picked up the PaDD to give it her full attention, looking directly at them both. "Keep me apprised of progress, let me know if you have problems, and if your actions need justifying to your superiors or requisitions need authority, they come directly to me, understood?"

"Understood, Commander. Absolutely. Yes." Gavarus replied, overcompensating as she tended to do when talking to superior officers. With that said, the connection closed and the Commander’s image vanished. At which point O’Dell begin literally jumping up and down.

“Secret mission! You and me, Briaar! We’re g’win to prove her worth and get to go tear shite oop!” The energetic ensign was literally vibrating with excitement as she bounced about, dancing and twirling in circles. While her sore and stiff arms were still causing her pain and limiting her ability to straighten her arms, the pixie pilot was too excited to care about the pain.

Meanwhile, Gavarus slumped where she stood, looking at her PaDD. "How the hell are you this excited? How the hell do you have this much energy? YOU'RE gonna 'tear shit up'. I think she just included ME figuring you'd probably end up telling me about the project anyway."

“Ach, ye soggy-brained dunderhead! She included ye because she knows yuir the one what makes it all work, and because we’re a team! Dinna be s’grumpy, Briaar! We’re a demolition duo, ye and me! Thunder, thunder, Thunderchicken, hoooooo!”

The Aehallh station was a notorious hub of illicit activity throughout the sector. For decades, the station has been the place to go for criminals and those wanting their activities to go unseen. Built and operated by a cadre of Romulan criminals, the station possessed a state of the art cloaking device that made it's location a highly guarded secret to smugglers and pirates alike.

One did not go to the Aehallh station casually, and one expected that whatever they did at the Aehallh station would stay there. It was known to keep it's secrets well. But it did keep them, and that was exactly what the Infiltration team from the U.S.S. Hera was counting on.

Slipping through the cloak in their own cloaked Romulan Scorpion was child's play for Jaeih Dox, having helped design the stations cloak over twenty years ago. And it had become quickly clear to the former Tal'Shiar agent that nobody had upgraded the system in that time. However, the cloak on their own ship was designed as a masterpiece of engineering between Jaeih and the Hera's R&D chief, Ensign Mona Gonadie. It's was the most efficient cloak ever designed and the Aehallh station had no idea that there was now a cloaked fighter magnetically sealed to its hull next to a ventral access port.

In the station, Jaeih Dox and her Vulcan Inflitration specialist and partner, Az'Prel, were already standing in a security sub-station in the lower decks. At their feet, were four security officers taking very unplanned naps. Two were naked, as the two women were adjusting the stolen uniforms for their own use.

"This should allow us some degree of anonymity, at least for a time." Jaeih commented as she fastened the uniform top over her light-weight body armor. "The records room, unfortunately, is on deck two. We should have about 12 decks to clear from our current location. How's our path looking, Az'Prel?"

At the security console, the refugee from a mirror dimension of horrors was scanning the multiple screens with squinted eyes, taking in all of the information in front of her and putting her logical mind to the task of planning the quickest route for the two agents.

"Not that good. If we can bypass security, we will be able to take the lift to deck four, but we'll need to make our way from there through the maintenance tubes on the other side of the deck. That's assuming we can pass the security checkpoint in front of the turbolift on this deck and on deck four. The maintenance tubes have security hatches between decks as well, which require keycards and codes..." The displaced Vulcan patted the pockets of the uniform she had quickly donned, locating a keycard on her person. "We just need a code for it then... And to get past all the patrols and stations without arousing suspicion."

Looking down at the two naked guards that were the former owners of the key cards in question, Jaieh cricked an eyebrow. "Well, we can always wake these two up and ask them in as pointed a fashion as possible. Unless you are capable of, and comfortable with, performing a mind meld to extract the information?"

The Romulan woman was stern and her focus was tight, but she also knew enough of Az'Prel's history to be sure and consider her feelings on the matter.

Az'Prel looked down at the two men in contemplation. "I am trained in this skill... I have not used it in many years though." Kneeling next to the man she obtained her uniform from, she placed her fingertips on the man's forehead, the palm of her hand covering his face, and entered a trance-like state. After a few moments, she stood and shook herself off. "The code is one two three nine seven. It rotates daily."

"Excellent... But... are you alright?" Jaeih asked, almost surprised at her own level of concern. It was something that was becoming increasingly noticeable since her time on the Hera, that she found herself more and more engaged with those that served with her daughter.

The displaced Vulcan woman paused for a moment before answering. "I was not expecting to find such a rancid mind among the denizens of this universe. I will recover. Please let us proceed."

"They cannot all be our shipmates, I'm afraid." Jaieh grabbed her own security card and straightened her uniform as the two women secured the unconscious guards in restraints and hid their limp forms in the storage compartment.

After a few moments, they were on the move. Walking professionally with body language that projected that they belonged there. Both women were well trained at exactly how to do this and made their way without incident down the dank corridor to the turbolift indicated in Az'Prel's investigation. At the lift, the waited for only a slight moment before the doors creaked open. Inside the lift were five more Romulan's, dressed not in the security uniforms of the station, but in modern military uniforms.

Without missing a beat, and appearing completely nonplussed, Jaeih commented, "Going up?" as the pair stepped in.

Those in the lift made room for them as one person stepped out, as if nothing was wrong while Az'Prel declared their desired deck. "Deck eight." The conversation in the lift then resumed - something about the latest biosynthetics verses cybernetics.

The remaining four Romulans didn't seem to have any open suspicions, but Jaeih and Az'Prel were, nonetheless, on guard. After a long, tense few moments, that lift arrived at deck eight and the doors creaked open.

As they got off the lift and entered the checkpoint, the four guards inside looked up curiously. "I don't recognize the two of you."

"We were just assigned," Az'Prel replied, swiping her card and tapping in the passcode, getting a green light from the checkpoint scanners.

As Jaeih swiped her own card and entered her code, she took on a more casual aire and rolled her eyes. "We transferred over from Commander tr'Arath's private security team last week. We've been on a running rotation for a while now." Years of smuggling meant the elder Dox had been here as a client many times and knew the terrain and the management well enough to bluff through a checkpoint or two. "Glad to finally have a posting on something that's not constantly warping. Besides, I missed the Coffee from the promenade."

As her light turned green, the lead guard waved them through with a light smile. "It's the only thing that makes working here bearable, good to meet you."

"I could use a cup right about now, myself," added Az'Prel in an attempt to add a bit more lightness to her own character as she headed deeper into the corridor.

As the two women made their way down the corridor, once they were clear of earshot, Jaeih whispered just slightly enough for only Az'Prel to hear her. "It actually is exceptional coffee. A pity we likely won't have the opportunity to have any. But duty calls."

Stepping to the side of the corridor, Jaeih looked down both directions to ensure they were alone. "Is this the maintenance tube we need?"

"Yeah, that's the one. There's a security switch on it though, so we'll have to bypass it." With a quick flick of her hand, Az'Prel had a multitool out and was prying the controls for the hatch open. Within moments she had the security bypassed and the hatch was hanging open limp. She then pressed the control panel back in place and motioned for Jaeih to enter first. "After you."

"Excellent. Thank you." Jaeih nodded as she began to climb. Her familiarity with the station made her taking point perfectly logical and the pair of women were working together like a well-oiled machine.

As warned, between each deck there was a locked hatch that required the use of their stolen keycards. Moving quickly, Jaeih swiped her card and entered the access code and they continued to their destination on deck two. "From here, pass cards may not be sufficient, I fear. The records room will be off-limits to all but the station chief as they have many, many records that very powerful people never want being seen."

"I assume they'll be using technology far advanced of what I'm used to, as well. We may have to rely on your expertise to get in and out safely while I watch our backs." As they discussed this last entry point, Az'Prel bypassed the last security door and got them to the maintenance hatch leading into the records room. Studying the systems for a moment a hint of a smile graced her features. "Or maybe I will be proven incorrect."

Pulling free her multitool again, she began working on the door controls, bypassing the higher level check for a regular check so their badges would work on it.

Looking down the corridor, Jaeih had a slight smirk on her face. "It's very difficult for a station that doesn't exist to get proper systems upgrades as.often as they need."

After a tense minute and a half, the door light turned green and the hatch scraped open. "Miss Az'Prel, you are brilliant."

"When you use duotronics as a security feature..." the Vulcan began, but left it at that with a shrug as they headed into the records room filled with various forms of data storage mediums. "Now we just need to find the records we need."

As the door closed behind them, Jaeih began shuffling through the index of a series of data tapes on the nearest shelf. "According to the data the Commander sent us, the stardate of the meeting was... 59331.13. If Arenara Artan met with representatives of the Orion Syndicate, these paranoid bastards recorded it. It's one of the ways they protect themselves from reprisal from any of their clients."

"In my universe, the Syndicate is a shadow organization that works towards the good of all non-Terran peoples. They still keep immaculate records, from what I've been told." Az'Prel headed deeper in and looked for a record-keeping system to see if what they were looking for had been logged. "If we're lucky, there's a log of every single piece of data in here."

Looking across the room, Jaeih tilted her head with a puzzled expression. As she did she stepped over and picked up a bound book and flipped through it. "Az'Prel... Look at this. It's... an inventory catalog. Stardate 59400 to Stardate 59500."

The generally cynical Romulan agent let out a laugh. "Well, that's one way to keep rivals from accessing your data network. Hard disks and a handwritten filing system. Antiquated, but to steal the data you're only option would to be what we're doing right now. That likelihood of which is so remote as to be nearly implausible."

Putting the one book back, Jaeih began scanning the shelf for the right volume. "There we are. 59300 to 59400." Flipping through the pages, Jaeih got slightly excited. "The complete records for the date in question is... There. The cabinet to your left. There are seven data tapes marked 98776-1 through 98776-7!"

"Flimsiplast and paper, just like in my universe. Perfectly predictable." Az'Prel pulled out her tricorder and scanned the data tapes in the cabinet. "I'm reading the data we need dumped on... These two drives, including data from all over both quadrants. I recommend we take them and get out of here as quickly and as silently as possible." Pulling out the two small drives, she handed them off to Jaeih. "Is there any other data you'd like to grab while we're here?"

Securing the drives, Jaeih thought for a long moment before replying. "Actually... yes."

Stepping back over to the shelf with the catalogs on if, Jaeih began thumbing through them. "I've been here... many times. But one, in particular, may be of possible use to the Captain as well. The Romulan Baroness, who's vote she requires, I brought her here from captivity on Romulus years ago. I don't know if there's anything useful to be gleaned, but I handed them off to the Captain's mother here with..."

Looking through the catalog, the elder Romulan found the index she needed and stepped over to the cabinet to grab the files. "... Mnhei'sahe. Hnaev."

Looking in the cabinet, Jaeih had a confused expression on her face as the drives were gone as well. After a moment of consideration, Jaeih shook her head. "Well... Let's not waste any more time and get the information we came for out of here."

"Right..." Az'Prel headed for the door out and went to repeat her trick of opening the door the same way she had on the way in, but this time, something went wrong and halfway through, the alarms went off. "Oops..." was all she said as she finished the procedure and the door swung open, letting them out. "That shouldn't have happened but we don't have much time to get to the maintenance hatch now."

"Wait." Jaeih replied as the headed down the corridor towards the hatch. "In the event of a security alert, those hatches are sealed. But... We're security. Break my nose."

Without hesitating, the Vulcan woman hit her companion just hard enough to break her nose and leave a trickle of blood across her cheek just as the sound of running could be heard coming towards them. She then slammed her own head against a bulkhead just enough to give herself a nasty bruise and look like they'd been attacked.

Wincing for the briefest of moments, Jaeih pulled out the disruptor on her belt, stolen with the uniforms they were both wearing and fired down the hall to the records room, blasting the computer console. "Az'Prel, the maintenance hatch we came up, Destroy it. Then we throw the disruptors down it and hit the deck."

The displaced Vulcan woman then ripped the control panel from the controls for the door hatch and wired it so that the hatch itself popped open on its own before she wrenched it off of one of its hinges. She then set both disruptors to overload and tossed them in. "This is not going to be a kind explosion," she muttered as she grabbed Jaeih and leapt for cover further down the corridor just as they exploded, furthering their injuries and singing their uniforms.

It was at that moment that six more guards dressed like them rounded the corridor, weapons drawn.

Two of the guards ran over to examine the smoldering hatch opening, two ran past to the records room and the last two came over to Az'Prel and Jaeih. Leaning down to examine the two women, burned and bleeding, the propped them both up. "What happened here?!"

Shaking her head groggily, Jaeih squinted through the smoke and coughed, a trickle of green blood running down her face. "Two m... men in Black. They... They were in the records room. We... we went to see what was happening... they attacked us. Went down the maintenance hatch."

One of the guards stood back up and began shouting into his communicator. "We have two Intruders moving down maintenance hatch Delta from deck two!"

Pushing off the side of the bulkhead, Jaeih and Az'Prel played up their injuries. Grabbing her side, Jaeih winced and let out a muffled groan. One of the other security officers turned to them and looked them over. "Okay... You two get to the medical level."

Az'Prel held her head as she propped herself up, wincing in pain as she did so. "Hnaev... I think this headache is going to take more than coffee to fix..."

"Okay, get going, you two." The security officer commented as he turned to shout orders to the other officers investigating the destruction. Limping towards the turbolift, Az'Prel and Jaeih leaned on each other for support. Once inside the lift and out of sight, both women straightened back up.

"Excellent, that will provide some distraction." Jaeih rubbed her nose with a slight smirk as she called out to the lift computer. "Deck fourteen." As she did, the console lit with their destination illuminated and the lift began to go down.

The older lift creaked slightly as it moved slower than the two women were used to from the Hera, as the lift came to an unexpected stop on deck eight. As the doors opened, Jaeih and Az'Prel instantly resumed their injured postures as the four guards from the checkpoint rushed on, strapping weapons to their belts.

"What happened to you two?" One of the four asked as the lift doors closed.

"The intruders attacked us... We're on our way to medical." Jaeih replied.

Suddenly, the guards began looking at the two women suspiciously. "The attack from the intruders was on deck two. Medical is on deck six, two decks up." As he spoke, one hand lowered to his disruptor as he eyed the console of the lift that showed their destination as deck fourteen.

Reading the change in tone, Jaeih sighed as she glanced over to Az'Prel. "Oops."

The displaced Vulcan woman barely had to think about it as she reached over and slammed the heads of the closest to her into the wall of the lift, sending the two Romulan guards to the deck out cold. "A minor detail. Our persuasions are superior."

Lacking Az'Prel's Vulcan strength, Jaeih instead chose a slightly more vicious tactic. With one hand she folded her fingers into a knife strike at.drove it into the nearest security officers throat hard, sending him gasping to his knees while she kneed him in the head. In the same motion, she used his limp form to press it against the second man, pushing him against the side of the lift.

As he tried to un-holster his disruptor, Jaeih brought her other hand in for a hard blow just below his right ribcage. As her blow found it's target, the officer's eyes bulged momentarily as he gasped and keeled over. Keeping her hand hard against where the Romulan heart is located, she twisted slightly.

Az'Prel knew the maneuver well. Done correctly, it caused a minor cardiac arrest, rendering the victim, Vulcan or Romulan, unconscious with extreme pain. Don't incorrectly, it caused death. The guard fell to the deck and groaned, unconscious but alive.

"Indeed. And I think they agree. Lay there unconscious if you all agree." Jaeih looked up with a smirk. "See. They agree. "

Az'Prel nodded, almost pleased with herself that her attempt at a joke seemed to actually land well. "Indeed, they do agree. Such pleasant hosts."

As the lift continued down, Az'Prel and Jaeih striped the guards of their weapons and kept them at the ready for further trouble as they reached their destination on the lowest deck.

As the doors opened, the corridor was largely dark and empty. With their act of misdirection on Deck two successful, they were clear to return to the rear hatch and their waiting ship.

Once inside, Jaeih disengaged the docking clamps and the small cloaked Romulan Scorpion was quietly away and safely back into warp space. Handing back the data drives to Az'Prel in the back seat, Jaeih commented. "See if you can access these with the ship's computers. Ensign Gonadie made them well and they should be able to give us playback. Let's be sure we have what we need."

The Vulcan woman hooked up the antique drives as best she could, using a tricorder to convert the antique signaling patterns to ones that the tiny ship could understand. "It is fascinating that part of their security seems to be using archaic storage medium and format. Even in my time, 1024 layer binary data was outmoded and yet here it is - data stored in terabytes instead of teraquads." Soon she had the data feeds streaming to the small screens in front of each of them, displaying the list of records on each drive.

"Seems to be a clever conceit. Using significantly older technology that their current clients wouldn't recognize. On my own, I would be quite lost as well." Jaeih commented as Az'Prel worked and the two began to study the data.

After a few minutes scrolling through recording after recording of meaningless meetings between random faces, Jaeih and Az'Prel watched the security feeds intently until eventually, something of interest appeared on the screen. As it did, a sly smile stretched across the former Romulan agents face. "Miss Az'Prel... The Captain is going to be a happy woman. Let's get this home."

It was the fifth cup of coffee Chief Medical Officer Dael had consumed so far today. Between normal duties as the ships counselor and CMO, Asa had been up late reviewing birth plans, and then had their sleep interrupted by the first delivery of their career....a beautiful babe born to two beaming parents.

Asa wouldn't change any of it for the universe, but they were also looking forward to bed this evening. Downing the last in their cup, the doctor sat back to review the file for Lt. JG Rena Pacci who was due to arrive for her medical check in any moment now.

It didn't take long for Rena to unpack her things, she traveled light as she always believed in having minimal personal possessions. Especially being in Starfleet when you never really knew when your next transfer could come up.

"What do you mean you lost my clothes? We teleport living people, you're telling me you can't teleport a few thongs with out them being demeculorized?" The annoyance in her voice made the cadet on the other end of the com link shiver with unease. The annoyed Betazoid was about to give the ensign a piece of her mind but her alarm went off. She had set a reminder so she wouldn't forget to get her physical done.

"Just forget it....but If I find out you kept any of them you best be prepared for the consequences." With that she ended the conversation and exited her quarters with a huff. It shouldn't be a big deal, she could always replicate new clothes. But there was one piece of clothing that had meant something to her. It bothered her knowing it was gone.

~It's fine Rena...it is only material. You have the memories" ~ She told her self and took in a deep breath as she counted to eight then let it out slowly and counted to eight again. By the time she reached sickbay she had a handle on her mood and strolled into sickbay putting her usual happy facade.

Looking around a moment the Betazoid didn't see the doctor but sensed the tired thoughts and followed them to see the doctor sitting at their desk. "Lt.Jg Pacci, reporting as ordered."

Standing and painting on a bright smile, Asa said, "Welcome! Wonderful to meet you, please, won't you follow be to biobed 3?"

The doctor was genuinely happy to meet the newest member of the crew and dug deep to find the energy she deserved. Asa made a movement that could be construed as an offer of a handshake if someone was so inclined, or easily dismissed as simply pointing towards the indicated biobed if they were not. Their time since meeting Az'Prel had reminded Doc Dael that not everyone welcomed touch, and they were doing their best to read that in the people they served now.

Shaking the out reached hand firmly the curly black haired Betazoid made her way to biobed 3. She hopped up with ease and rested her hands on her knees "Nice to meet you Doctor. How's your day been?" The Betazoid was never a big fan of physicals so small talk sometimes helped her get over the nerves.

With a chuckle Asa said, "Is it day already? I'm joking, we have a bit of a baby boom on the Hera, so we've been hopping with new life. Thank you for asking. Ok, let me get some quick readings...."

As the doctor trailed off their tricorder began whirring, taking readings for Asa to compare to the file on hand. They took a moment to compare the readings to the PaDD on hand. While reviewing the results Asa asked, "If I may ask...would you like the scar on your cheek removed?"

"No," the Betazoid ran a hand over the scar "It reminds me of a time I don't want to revisit. Plus I think it makes me look tough," Rena joked taking her hand away from the scar.

"Right you are," Asa replied with a cheerful grin, "And looking tough is always important."

With a wink the doctor set about continuing the scan and paused for a moment, looking into Pacci's eyes compassionately.

"There are some signs here that your liver is scarred, possibly beginning to develop cirrhosis. It's easily treated, just some work with the tissue generator and a few follow up visits....but if we don't address the underlying problem, it will just happen again. This looks to be the sign of heavy drinking over a prolonged period of time. Can you please share with me what drove you to such desperation? I want to help you overcome anything that might be holding you back...."

~ Geez no getting around this one ~ The Betazoid thought and offered a smile "Something I've been meaning to get around too and just kept forgetting. You know how life gets busy?" Rena replied causally deflecting the question.

"It's never been a problem. But if you feel I need to have it treated you're the doctor. How long have you been the doctor here?" Rena used the 'small talk' to get out of the question. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. She didn't like to talk about her past but always had a exit plan out of a conversation for when it came up.

"A bit short of a year," Asa replied, "And in that time I've witnessed firsthand the way life can get in the way in Starfleet. And a lot of those ways are hard to deal with. They take their toll. There's no shame in that, or in needing help. Part of my job is to make sure you get the help you need, ok? And it is a problem if you are drinking to the point of damaging your liver. Either you are bothered by something or need some help moderating celebration. Either way, I'm here to help. I don't judge....just think on it ok? I'd be happy to arrange some time to provide you with a bit of counseling just to get you over the hump if you would like."

Their voice was calm and soothing, the same way Asa would have delivered any bad news. They were familiar with the ways Starfleet officers tried to numb and hide their pain. The doctor wouldn't force anyone into therapy...well, not without lacking any other options....but they would encourage someone who was hurting to reach out.

"Thanks Doc, I'll keep that in mind," she offered a smile to the medical officer. Rena generally meant it, though she didn't like to talk about her past she knew one day she'd have to deal with it.

"Well, then you are ship shape and ready to go!" the doctor enthused. "Welcome aboard, stop by any time, we are here to serve."

A smile was on Thex's face as she stepped into the ships second cargo bay. It got even bigger as she saw that her quadmate was busy working among the tall shelve of supplies. As much as she wanted to go over and say high she needed to speak to the new operations head.

Seeing the black haired Betazoid she put on a polite, but professional smile and walked over to her. " Hello there. Lieutenant JG Rena Pacci isn't it? I'm Thex the chief engineer and i was hoping you could help me with something." She said politely.

Hands on her slender hips the Betazoid was staring at the supplies on the shelves as if looking for some kind of divine intervention. She was particularly impartial to the way they were organized but how could she re-organize and entire system that seemed to work for the crew that was already here before her. Her senses picked up the thought of the Andorian but she waited for the women to speak first before Rena greeted her with a smile. "Yup that's me. Sure, what do ya need?" the Betazoid asked, giving her full attention to the chief engineer.

" I need some spare parts bringing up to engineering." Thex politely said as she handed over a padd. " Nothing that we won't have in storage. A few warp coils and some spares for the industrial replicator in engineering."

Taking the data padd the Betazoid scanned it over with her black eyes and gave a nod, " I can do that no problem. How soon do you need them?"

" As soon as possible. I'm short on staff with the number of pregnancies going around the ship." Thex replied.

"Something in the water?" Rena chuckled before adding " I'll get them to you in the next couple of hours. It shouldn't be a problem."

" Thanks. Is there anything you need me to take a look at while i'm here? " Thex asked.

~Another Andorian with a steller personality ~ The Betazoid thought. " No, not really. I was just enjoying the chaotic organization of the supplies selves. Just something I'll have to get used to. Say do you like to spar? I had an Andorian friend in the academy that was a wicked sparring partner. Not to say you're all the same or anything. I mean...urgh...I'm going to stop talking now." The embarrassed telepath rolled her eyes at her self as she started to look for the supplies that Thex requested.

~ Good one Pacci. Way to make friends ~ She scolded herself with a small sigh.

" I do actually have a fondness for martial arts though I won't be risking it for three months. " Thex said moving her hand over her belly. " Though I'll gladly spar with you after that."

"Oh! Congratulations! I can understand why you wouldn't want to risk it." The Betazoid offered a smile "well once you are able we'll have a good match!"

" I'm sure we will. I'll talk to you later. " Thex said as she headed for the door.

"Sounds good. Nice meeting you!" Rena looked down at the data padd "alright what's first."

On the bridge of the USS Hera, there was tension. In a moment, the mighty starship would come out of warp and begin her approach to the Kabul system, guided in by the system's traffic control. For now, the officers sat at their stations, and in the center chair, Captain Enalia Telvan sat, alone in her thoughts.

Though, not entirely alone, as she dictated them to a PaDD quietly. Anyone with sensitive enough ears or close enough could hear her innermost thoughts being poured into her log entry.

"Captain's personal log, stardate... Computer, autofill." Enalia paused for the chirrup to finish. "We have arrived at my birthplace and childhood home once more, but this time I'm filled less with a sense of homesickness and relief of being home and more with anxiety and... Dread... I have not faced my mother directly since joining Starfleet and in about a week's time, we will be face to face in what can only be described as a fight for the very soul of not only myself or the Artan family... But perhaps for the very essence and way of life for millions across dozens of sectors. The reach and influence of the home fleet... As well as my mother's prodigious assets... Not to mention the twelve Baronesses not aboard the USS Hera have far reaching influence and any changes will have drastic ramifications, for better or for worse."

"I just hope that in the end, most of it is for the better. My mother's return from retirement and her actions during my absence have not been... Kind... To the people under her care. She is also suspected of several actions against Starfleet and the Federation, which endanger the treaty my family has with Starfleet. Not the least of which is the murder of one and attempted assassinations of two of my crew. She's also suspected of working with the Syndicate in a plot against a mining colony run by Federation citizens as well as espionage on this vessel and others. If we are able to find proof of this... I can only think of two Baronesses that would still support her, and even they may give pause."

"Thus, while I will be greeting the Baronesses as Princess of the Artan family... During the Tribunal proceedings, I will be there as Captain of the USS Hera. It pains me to do so, but for the sake of our principals and maintaining peace, it must be done. Besides, this... is who I am now... And they need to see that I am no longer the young pirate princess that left home so long ago. That ran from her mother and joined Starfleet in some dream of freedom."

Tapping the PaDD, Enalia ended the log entry and tucked it away before checking the ship's status. "Looks like we're about there."

"Aye, Captain..." Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox replied from the helm. The sensitive Romulan ears of the ships Chief Flight Officer had heard every word of the Captain's report and understood fully the pressure
and conflict Enalia was feeling. "Exiting warp in two minutes. Docking procedures are on standby."

"System control doesn't like anyone warping directly in, but we're not here solely on Artan business this time, thankfully. If they give you any grief for entering the system at warp, tell them to direct their complaints to..." Enalia pulled her PaDD back out and tapped at it to look up the current Public Relations officer at Intel Command. "Commodore Rosellia O'Faya of Intel Command's Public Relations Division."

"Aye, Captain." Dox replied.

''With all due respect, Captain, if their sensors are no more than two hundred years old, they should be able to see us coming as easily as we can currently scan them while at warp,'' stated Sonak from the main science station. ''Would they have any complaint, it should be addressed at their own technicians and equipment providers.''

"Their equipment is up to date. It's more of a control issue for them, Mr. Sonak." Enalia grinned over at her science officer as she explained. "They cater to a lot of rich people and they like to make sure every variable is under their strict guidance, which means they like to make people like us dance to their tune. Unfortunately for them, we're on official business so we have priority."

''Only up to a point, Captain,'' the Vulcan chief science officer reminded her. ''Starfleet General Orders forbid us to exert authority over local governing bodies or to intervene in local matters, unless they are in violation of the Federation charter or represent a clear and present danger to galactic peace or the whole of the Federation. And even then, our involvement is severely limited to the immediate threat, until proper civilian authority can take over. Therefore, aside from such immediate situation,we are still bound by their laws and customs... including their space traffic regulations.''

"Well... they've flexed their power over my family and my ship my entire life. I think for once we have the right to barge in on official business." Enalia raised a finger to hopefully silence protests. "Even if it is a bit of a stretch. We must be in place on time to receive our investigation teams, whom are in stealth ships and are avoiding official channels like theirs, after all." In truth, she may be taking a bit of pleasure in vexing the more than obstinate System Control Authorities. After all, if a lesser pilot had been at the helm, every single approach would have resulted in severe damage to the USS Hera with the flight plans they approved.

"Captain, we're being hailed. It's the Lady Arenara Artan, Queen Regent of the Artan Pirates asking what the hell we think we're doing, and if we would like to be fired upon as a hazard to intersystem transit?" came the report from Ops.

Anyone that was watching could clearly see Enalia tense up, her fingers dig into the arm rests of her chair, and her teeth start to grind. "Please inform her that the USS Hera is here on official Starfleet business and any interference will be met with... appropriate actions."

Relaying the message, the Ops officer listened to the response, then turned back to face the captain, even as Paris spoke up. "Multiple weapons systems are targeting us, Captain, from fixed emplacements to gunships in system."

''A most predictable action,'' Sonak confirmed from his own sensor readouts. "The next step would logically be to send an intercepting force.''

"The Queen regent says, 'Your move', ma'am..." Ops reported.

"Red alert. Slow to impulse but maintain OUR course. Relay all that is happening to Intel Command and the Starfleet Liaison for the pirates." Enalia said, standing, her fists clenched.

The red alert klaxon sounded as the bridge was bathed in shades of red. From her tactical station, the first officer reported, "Shields up, weapons charging."

"Now open a channel," the spotted Captain ordered, and when she spoke, she did so with unmistakable steel in her tone. "Any move against this vessel to hinder our investigations will be taken as a declaration of intent that you no longer wish to maintain diplomatic relations with the United Federation of Planets as pursuant to the Charter of Kabul chapter nine, section seventeen. Stand down now, or we will be forced to defend ourselves."

There was a long, tense ten seconds until the reply came through the channel, and a voice filled with feigned friendliness came over the comms. "Might I remind you that violation of our local traffic control laws is also a violation of that selfsame treaty. But seeing as how you've slowed to impulse, in the interest of continued diplomatic good faith with the Federation, we will stand down. Perhaps if you were to lower your shields as a gesture of good intentions we might believe your official business to be a peaceable mission? Otherwise, from here it just looks like you've come to bully the civilians in their own homes... isn't that just like a Fleeter?"

"As soon as we are no longer targeted by multiple weapons batteries..." The curvy captain sat back down and crossed her legs, trying to act relaxed. "We will stand down from alert status."

"For someone who comes in peace and friendship, you certainly are defensive. Very well..." as the targeting batteries and gunships winked out, the voice on the comm continued. "We can show good faith... can you?"

Enalia tapped at the controls on her chair's arm console, returning to general alert and powering down the shields and weapons. She also sent a message to Commander Paris to watch for transporter signals. "Our shields and weapons are now powered down. Any further... Demands?"

Even as she spoke the words, a message came through on her chair's armrest screen. //Automated sense and bounce transporter protocol from Mr. Sonak just reflected a transporting landing party of six attempting to beam into the antimatter storage pods on Deck 29\\

"We make no demands, Captain Telvan," there was a bit of scorn evident in the use of the captain's title, subtle but clear to any who were listening for it. "We merely ask that our personal freedoms be respected here in the Kabul system, as we are not subjects of the Federation, but a free system. We appreciate your cooperation and your clearly demonstrated respect for our customs and traditions."

Clearly this was a show, not for the benefit of those onboard, but for others who were tuned into the exchange.

"Then as a citizen of this system myself, we would appreciate your full cooperation in our investigation." Then a grin crept onto the Captain's face. "What did you say your name was again? You're one of the SCA controllers, right?"

There was an audible snarl on the channel, followed by a slow exhalation of breath, as if someone were forcibly calming themselves. "You know very well who this is. Mother to an insolent and willful daughter who spurns generations of tradition to leave the family business, then returns only to challenge the Queen in Tribunal because she is determined to let the bloodline die. Disrespectful princess who comes to lord her authority over the free-thinking folk who refuse to live under the yolk of the oppressive Starfleet, disrespecting our safety, our traditions and our laws all for a show of force that impresses no one. You know exactly who this is, Enalia. I'll expect to see you once you've docked- assuming you can muster up that much respect for your mother, if not your queen."

Again, it was not a speech meant to impress the Starfleet captain so much as appeal to those listening, to garner support for her cause before the first gavel of the tribunal had swung. Arenara Artan was no amateur, and her manipulations were already quite clearly in play, as they most likely had been for some time now in system and throughout the network of pirates who formed the alliance of the Artan pirate fleet.

Much of which was already docked at the orbital fortress, as evidenced by the starships already assembled.

The spotted captain put on her most faux surprised face and glanced over at her first officer. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't expect you to be violating the independence agreement that the SCA has with the Artans and all the other groups in the system. Or is this a side job that you took on? Is retirement really that boring? Either way, I'll be seeing you soon enough at the Tribunal, Mother. Captain Telvan out."

After a few tense seconds, Lieutenant Dox spoke back from the helm. "Captain, receiving docking instructions from system control. Proceeding on your orders."

"Ignore them. Continue on our path to the orbital fortress and wait for docking clearance from the Fortress itself." Enalia knew it was a power play since the SCA had no authority on docking at the various private stations around the system.

"Aye, Captain." Dox replied as she entered the instructions from the Captain and kept the Hera on its course to the fortress. "We will be arriving in 8 point 3 minutes at current speed."

"Steady as she goes... Captain Magnus should be receiving us any moment now." The tension in Enalia, though she was trying to hide it, was obvious to anyone that was trained to look for it.

"I see the fun and games have already begun," Paris muttered.

But Sonak's keen Vulcan ears caught her anyway.

''Since Starfleet is the overall authority regarding space travel within the whole expanse of the Federation, this is a proper approach to clarify the authority and boundaries of our upcoming... exchange.''

"As usual, Mister Sonak's got a point, Captain," the first officer offered. "Snark and political spin aside, this is going to be one long series of struggles for dominance. With the law on your side, it's best that you make your position known up front."

"She may be queen of the pirates, but here and now? You're the law. It would appear someone broke the pact, and you're here on official business to find out exactly who and why, and to determine if that compact has been voided by those actions." the comely commander paused in her grocery list to add, "In addition to you stating your case to the assembled baronesses in your case to defy her will to produce an heir that she can raise."

"I'm also the rightful current ruler of the Artan family. She's supposed to be retired." Enalia added with that piratical lopsided grin of hers. "Either way, I'm glad that I have a crew that I can trust and depend on with my life. You are all my family and I wouldn't have it any other way. Now... Let's go see just how hard my mother is going to make this, shall we?"

It was at that point that docking clearance finally came in from the Artan family orbital fortress, clearing the USS Hera at the private clamps that Enalia had had installed just for the Nebula class ship.

"Captain, Docking instructions received from the Fortress," Dox called back from the helm as she prepared to enact the Captain's orders.

''Captain, we are being scanned,'' Sonak reported. ''Shall I enable counter measures?''

"Please do so," Enalia ordered. "They're likely looking for their sabotage team and wondering why we haven't lost antimatter containment yet.''

Acknowledged,'' answered the Vulcan before turning to the computer terminal in front of him. ''Computer; Echo Chamber sensor program Sonak 1; execute.''

''Computed,'' answered the disembodied voice of the ship's main computer. ''Sensors are now sending back to the source incoming scanning signals on all frequencies.''

''At your discretion, Captain, if this proves to be an insufficient deterrent, program 2 is a targeting white noise emission from our communications array. Program 3 is a damaging EM pulse from our deflector dish,'' Sonak announced. ''For the moment, they will not have their scanners knocked out; just hampered if they are indeed searching for their accomplices.''

"Well, they are aboard, just in Brig cell D4 trying to figure out how to overcome the forcefields," Paris reported from her security feeds. After all, they were Starfleet- not like they were going to space the poor souls. "We'll get on processing and questioning them once we're in port, unless you'd like to handle the questioning yourself, Captain?"

"Let's leave it at that for now. As for the interrogations, I think I've had my fill of those." Enalia punched up their own sensor readouts and looked them over. "Maru, as soon as we dock, begin the infiltration program and install that antivirus software on all of our allies that have cybernetics, if you can." Instead of the normal chirrup from the computer, there was a soft purr.

From the helm, Dox brought the mighty Nebula Class starship to a slow momentum, using the ships thrusters to complete the docking procedures as instructions. After a moment, the Red-headed Romulan pilot leaned slightly back. "Docking procedures complete, Captain. Powering down maneuvering thrusters."

"We've arrived at Artan family orbital fortress, Captain. Mooring clamps engaged, external power available, we have hard dock on the forward airlock, Deck 10," the first officer reported from her station, then she looked over at the pirate princess. Returned to her home port home once more, the custom docking clamps she'd had specially installed for her mighty starship welcoming Enalia Telvan home with the barest kiss of their forcefield embrace upon the starship Hera's hull.

"Any inspiring words for the crew, Captain?" The first officer prompted.

Standing, Enalia glanced around the futuristic bridge of the Intel Command modified Nebula Class Starship. "Inspiring... I think I do, actually."

She then pressed the ship wide announcement control on her chair, the intercomm emitting an ALCON whistle.

"When I joined Starfleet, it was in search of a dream of freedom that I couldn't find in my own predetermined path as the head of the Artan family. Time and time again, I've been brought back here to my home for good reasons and bad."

"On the surface, this is a fight to finally free me from the yoke of an oppressive matriarchy and my mother, but I tell you this. If we let her win this day... Or if we compromise the very basic moral fiber that the uniform that we wear represents... Then not only have we all lost... But the people of this... and all nearby sectors will feel the repercussions for generations."

"I have served with this crew for some time now and I know in my heart...Without a doubt... That each of you has the strength of character... Integrity... And dedication to your duty to see this through. I... And Starfleet... Entrusts the lives and well-being of everyone affected to the crew of the USS Hera." Enalia then tapped her chair control again, ending the broadcast.

Giving the moment a healthy pause, Paris stood to address the bridge.

"You heard the captain. Now let's see this through."

Shortly after arriving at the Artan family orbital fortress, Enalia received a message that her allies were awaiting her in the Grand Hall of the central spire of the castle and would be honored if her Highness's party would join them to discuss her plans for the Tribunal. Hence Captain Telvan, Commander Paris, Lieutenant Dox, and Yeoman Dedjoy were now riding up the outside of the central spire inside of a spacious crystal elevator with a beautiful view of the expansive lands inside of the snow globe of a fortress.

"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" Enalia asked as she longingly gazed out at the forest and the small lake. "There's a horse track over that way that I loved growing up. This may sound silly, but my horse's name was Potatoes because her mane was the same color as the baked potatoes we sometimes had."

Standing off to the side between Commander Paris and Yeoman Dedjoy, Mnhei'sahe Dox tugged slightly on the hem of her crimson Starfleet uniform. She was quite pleased that they were representing themselves as such in the proceedings as she was much less comfortable in the Baronesses uniform she had prepared.

"Aye, Captain." The anxious, red-headed Romulan replied someone stiffly, as she was nervous about what was to come and was more focused on that than she was the view.

The meeting with the baronesses was one that was critical, to be certain, given the upcoming Tribunal in which the votes of the heads of the various factions beneath the banner of the Artan family pirate fleet would determine their course for the foreseeable future. More specifically, it would determine the course of Captain Telvan, as the heir to the family. As her mother had come out of retirement to demand an heir, and Enalia was resistant to the idea, now would come political maneuvering and manipulations, capitulations sought and alliances tested.

The job of one Rita Paris in all of this was to observe, to watch, to judge and divine intention. In this morass of piracy which was stranger to her than the far-flung future in which she now dwelled, she had to guard the Captain against betrayal and insure that the vote proceeded according to their plans. All while watching for treachery and underhanded tactics from all sides, monitored by an opponent who had been planning this machination literally for years now.

In over her head in strange waters, surrounded by potential hostiles and seeking a course that seemed to have no heading, Paris smirked. Just another glorious day in Starfleet, thought the lost navigator to herself as she smoothed out her minidress uniform that had been replaced by more modern versions 126 years ago.

"Captain, are you ready for this?" Paris asked solicitously, aiming to get Enalia's head in the game.

With difficulty, Enalia tore her eyes from the serenity of the scenery and turned towards the elevator door, tugging down on her uniform top and adjusting it as she recomposed herself. "I am. Sarika has gathered those that we know support us in this together so we can discuss our upcoming strategy and, I'll be honest... I've left a fair bit of it to the two of you. My mother knows me and can predict my moves. The two of you together are an unknown to her."

And then she grinned that special lopsided grin of hers. "And we have Yeoman Ila Dedjoy. Between the four of us, success is all but guaranteed."

Ila smiled softly and nodded, the pair of PaDDs she held clutched to her chest. "Aye, Captain. It's good to be back at your side again."

"It's good to have you back, Yeoman. From now on, maybe leave the insane plans to the professionals, right?" Paris grinned, gently patting the cybernetic woman on the shoulder.

For her part, Dox simply allowed a light smile to crack her otherwise serious face as she folded her arms behind her back and stood at attention as the lift approached it's destination.

Ila grinned a bit wider and nodded again as the lift slowed and indicated that it was almost at their destination. "Aye, Commander. I'm done with trying to be a hero."

"Spoken like every reluctant hero I've ever known," Paris shot back as the lift stopped.

That was when the large filigree inlaid doors whoosed open, revealing the Grand Hall near the top of the castle's central spire. The only thing above this level was the private levels of the Artan family themselves. Inside was an ostentatious display of craftsmanship from many worlds leading to what could only be described as the fanciest and ritziest bar that any of them had ever seen. Every chair was unique and hand carved. Every plant was unique and wildly different from the last.

The paintings on the walls and columns were unique and as far from each other as a Rembrandt and a Picasso. Towards the center was the most out of place thing. A community fire pit with grilling racks built out of what appeared to be white marble and lined with rose gold. Off to the side of that, as if it was the most normal thing, was a regular bar straight out of some seedy dive, with a pair of the fortress's holographic maids behind the counter mixing drinks. Scattered in the chairs were seven Baronesses, casually chatting.

Sarika was the first to notice that the Captain and her party had arrived and stood, placing her right hand over her heart and bowing respectfully. "Princess. We welcome you home." Within a heartbeat, the rest of those assembled followed suit.

"Thank you. It's good to be home." Enalia placed her right hand over her heart and inclined her head in a slight bow back. May I introduce my First Officer Commander Paris, my Chief Flight Controller and Baroness Fifth Class Lieutenant Dox, and my Yeoman, Petty Officer Dedjoy."

All around, Paris offered eye contact, a smile and a nod as she draped her hands on her hips confidently.

That was when someone unexpected stepped up to greet Enalia. A Trill woman wearing a white and gold dress uniform with no tassels, but a katana on her belt and her black hair in a high ponytail. She appeared to be almost as old as Enalia's mother. "Princess, it is good to see you again. Please allow me to express my sympathies over this ordeal. However, while I am not currently able to support you in these proceedings officially due to the rumors of your plans for the family, I am unable to support your mother in any capacity. If there is anything you need, please... Do not hesitate to ask."

Enalia nodded solemnly. "Baroness first class Merinda von Stolina. You've been with my family longer than anyone else, I think. I thank you for your honesty and service to the Artan family."

Standing by the Captain's side, Dox stood awkwardly, not really knowing what to say or do in the situation. As a matter of technicality, she too was a Baroness here with a vote and a say in the proceedings, but suddenly felt a bit overwhelmed by the pomp and circumstance of the moment... and more than a little out of place.

Still, as she visually scanned the assemblage, wary of potential threats, she couldn't help but take in the room itself. It was an ostentatious display of wealth and the former smuggler couldn't help but question internally where it all came from. Still, she knew she couldn't just stand there quietly the whole time, so she nodded towards the one other Baroness she had already met and spoke, "Baroness Sarika. It's good to see you again."

"Mnhei'sahe! It's so good to see you again too!" the silver haired pirate exclaimed as she pulled the Romulan woman into a hug. "Relax, you're family too. Come on, I'll introduce everyone so..."

"Sarika..." Merinda's scolding tone was both grandmotherly, yet firm as she said the other Baroness's name, causing the younger woman to clam up. "Please let them relax. They have been under a considerable amount of stress. Also, as I am the senior Baroness, it's only right that I introduce everyone."

"Yes, ma'am," Sarika replied as she continued her hug with Dox.

Turning back to Enalia, the formal woman bowed again. "If I may, Princess." With a nod from Enalia, she began.

Motioning towards a long, curly, black haired and busty woman that looked like she worked out every day and might be able to give Jablonski a run for her money. The woman's clothing was scanty at best, being the classic black buster, frilled dress, fingerless gloves, tri-point hat and gaudy jewelry that most pirates from legend were known for. "First, I present to you Baroness first class Bloody Batra."

Her haughty demeanor cracked long enough for her to bow to Enalia again. "I'm only here to see if you can prove the rumors that the Bitch Queen is sleeping with the Syndicate. If they are, we lose our Federation protections and I can't hunt the bastards anymore."

"As eloquent as ever..." Merida then motioned towards a woman that was somehow wearing even less. The pink haired human pirate was wearing a red bikini with a black miniskirt, black boots, and a black long sleeve jacket that was missing the 'jacket' part, yet somehow still had the shoulder boards and tassels. Everything also somehow had lace and frill on it for some reason. "Next, I present to you Baroness fourth class Frederica von Grelica."

The pink haired woman also bowed, but deeper. "As I once served your sister loyally, I now devote myself to you and yours. You have my full support in this no matter what."

Merida had no words on that, instead keeping her comments about the woman's life debt to herself. Instead she motioned to the next woman to be presented - a blond haired woman wearing a white and gold version of the standard Baroness uniform. She had a bust to match Commander Paris' though. "Next, I present to you Baroness fourth class... Ahem..." Taking the glass of alcohol from the next Baroness, she set it aside for now. "Baroness fourth class Snodarss."

"Prinshess!" the drunken woman exclaimed. "You have my shupport. No one should have to put up with... Yeah! For the free market!"

The first class Baroness motioned to Sarika to guide the woman back to her seat and she got on with the proceedings, motioning towards the next woman, a half Caitian, half Trill with four extra cybernetic arms. She wore a plain military uniform that was cut to go around the arms coming off of the extra arms on her torso. "Next, I present to you Baroness third class Marelith, the Artan family Enforcer."

The eight limbed woman bowed slightly, articulating strangely with her extra limbs. "Princess Telvan, it is an honor seeing you once more. Commander Paris, Lieutenant Dox, Yeoman Dedjoy... It is a pleasure to meet all of you."

"Likewise..." Paris agreed, taking in the sight of the six-armed cyberpirate with keen interest. She'd never seen anything like it, after all, and the woman moves with a steady, flowing grace that was visually arresting.

Finally, Merinda cracked a hint of a smile as she began to introduce the last of the people there. "It is with great honor that I present to you Baroness fourth class Mirana, former attendant to your father."

As an older Caitian with an eye patch covering an obvious scar and a very stereotypical peg leg hobbled up leaning on a cane, patches of fur turning a bit grey, both they and Enalia smiled. "You still look as beautiful as the day you left home, Enalia. Come here and give me a hug."

"It's good to see you too, you old cat," Enalia replied, giving Mirana a tender embrace. "It's been far too long."

Taking in the introductions, Dox was glad that Baroness Merinda turned the attention off of her for the moment, though she still had Sarika's arm wrapped tight around her in a friendly side hug. But it enabled the anxious, somewhat anti-social Romulan officer to collect her thoughts and observe.

"So! Hi there! Rita Paris, I'm new?" the anachronistically uniformed Starfleet siren spoke up. "So, I was thinking since we're all in this together how about somebody spell it out for the slow kid, please. Why are we all here? Not as a group, but each of us individually. I'm here because she saved me and I agreed to come. Aaaaaaand Starfleet business. Which I can spell out for you as I see it so Starfleet is offering transparency in good faith."

Pausing to eye the mistress and commander of the USS Hera, Paris muttered. "Too soon?"

Enalia chuckled softly as she patted Rita on the shoulder. "Not in the slightest. Now that introductions are out of the way, we should set our motivations on the proverbial table and clear the air so we all know where we stand. My position is laid out in the Tribunal Declaration, but with it, I'd like to move the family towards being more privateers and less pirates and try to get rid a few of the old matriarchal rules we still live by. Merinda, if you would be so kind?"

Merinda nodded and crossed her arms as she contemplated the request. "We all have various enterprises and ventures that are threatened by the former head of the family's current actions. For instance, Snodarss may lose her Federation alcohol inspection seals if things keep going the way they are and if that happens, her entire business will collapse. Marelith is interested in finding proof of any of the rumors that have been circulating about her. Batra just wants to hunt the wicked and make them pay..."

"Those Syndicate slavers especially," Batra interjected, shaking a fist for emphasis. "I've sworn to slaughter every last one of those sons of motherless hamsters and free every slave I can."

"Indeed," The older Trill woman then leaned in a bit closer to the group of Starfleet women. "And then you have those that are a bit more... Fanatically loyal... Frederica was rescued by the princess's sister and she declared her life debt is now Enalia's if she'll have it. Mirana... She'd follow the princess into the depths of hades and back if asked. Sarika... I believe feels she owes the princess her life as well." Straightening back up, she finished her explanation. "As for me, I am loyal to the family and will do whatever is needed to ensure the continued diplomatic relations between the family and the Federation while maintaining the best interests of the family."

"Not far off of what I expected then." The spotted captain considered the Baroness's words carefully. "Rita, could you explain Starfleet's position? I would do it myself, but being who I am it might be seen as a conflict of interest at this point in time. Also, Lieutenant Dox, you need to come up with why you're here, it seems."

At her Captain's words, Dox knew she couldn't just stand silently anymore. Talking a breath, she nodded slightly as she spoke. “I can answer that. I'm here to protect and defend my Captain. Her personal freedoms, the future she wants for herself and this family and her own bodily autonomy in the face of an assault on all three.”

“I am here to serve her both as a Baroness in the Tribunal through my vote and, if necessary, with arms… and as a Starfleet officer to serve those freedoms and protect them the right way. I'm here because it was through my Captain and my Friend, Enalia Telvan and the family that I found aboard the ship that is now my home that I was able to discover and become who I am.” The young Romulan woman was slightly emotional as she spoke.

“When I joined her crew, I didn't even know my true name. But with the aid of Captain Telvan and Commander Paris, who I have chosen as a sister, that I rediscovered and reconnected with my own past, my family and my identity. I owe these two women my loyalty and my life and I will always stand with them.” Then, Dox smirked lightly.

“Plus, as a smuggler, my mother and I ferried a great many former slaves from the grip of the Orion Syndicate, and I would very much like to see them and those that stand with them face justice.” Finishing her piece, she turned to Rita to give her Commander the floor.

"Miss Dox, you do the command proud," Paris beamed a smile before turning to address the collected baronesses. "As for Starfleet's interest, it begins with assault."

"The Baroness von Alcott was assaulted on the holodeck which, as laughable as that may sound, crippling malware was introduced into her cyberware and a death trap was crafted for her. Ideally these things tend to be held til trials one would imagine, but when you gloat, don't be surprised if someone's recording." With that, Paris held up the ever-present PaDD in her hand to play back the audio file. Arenara Artan's voice rang out, clear and highly recognizable.

"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..."

Giving a moment for that to settle in, Paris continued. "We scrubbed her cyberware and Baroness von Alcott is fine, although she is still en route to this particular party, we expect her soon enough. Now, trying to kill the Captain's adjutant... well, attempted murder is what we technically call it in Federation terms, would be a prosecutable offense, and tying all of that evidence to the matriarch could be quite challenging."

"Which was why we were surprised when one of our officers was killed as they got in the way of an assassin droid sent to eliminate your fellow Baroness, Miss Dox." Paris turned the stage over to Dox to illuminate the next point, given her proximity to the situation. "Lieutenant?"

"Aye, Commander." Dox took over as instructed. "When Captain Telvan named me a Baroness in the Family, I was bequeathed a ship. Delivered to me by Captain Magnus and Baroness von Alcott, there were several crates on board. Crates containing welcoming gifts. Most given by many of you to welcome me and remind me of our shared past. But one was not. In one of the crates was a Scorpinox 7 assassin droid hidden as a pendant... passed off as a family heirloom."

The young pilot was now visibly angry as her raspy voice sunk slightly. "This droid was activated and attempted to kill me. In it's attempt, it murdered an Officer under my command who's sold offense was being in it's way. And after it killed him it tried to kill me by hitting me with a shuttle and nearly destroying one of our flight decks."

"A full investigation is underway that will link this to Arenara Artan. The technology can be traced to the Orion Syndicate. And a Starfleet officer is dead. Murdered on a Starfleet vessel. All to silence my voice and my influence in these proceedings. But I will not be silent, ladies. And this will not go unpunished. Justice will be served here." The formerly quiet young woman had found her voice in the room.

As the Starfleet women spoke, several of them were close to the bar getting drinks from the holographic maids - an assortment of Rigelian, Saurian, Andirian, and Romulan drinks. Marelith had obtained an entire twenty second century bottle of Saurian brandy and was filling her own glass with it as she spoke. "Your reasons for being here resonate well with most of us, I think. After all, three of our number were slaves for a time and two under the yoke of the Syndicate. The rest of us have lost so many to them... Well, we're all family here."

"Also, if but one of these charges can be traced back to a member of the family..." Merinda began, letting the import of those repercussions sink in with the others.

"Hey, craaaaazy rude I'm sure, but does somebody maybe have a tricorder handy to scan that brandy Baroness Marelith is dishing? Just something a little birdie mentioned to me along the way about Saurian brandy," Paris had no qualms about playing the fool or the silly girl, if it got the job done.

Yeoman Dedjoy raised one hand. "My taste receptors can analyze the chemical composition of it." She stepped over to the Baroness to offer her services. "If I may?"

"If you wanted a glass..." The serious look on the Starfleet officers' faces convinced Marelith that it was worth more than a quick joke so she handed over her glass and the bottle.

Ila then sipped at the brandy, swishing it in her mouth before spitting it back into the glass. "It is of excellent age and vintage... Unfortunate that it contains a lethal distillation of nepeta. Any Caitian that drank this would be dead within three minutes. Most Trill within thirty minutes. Humans and Romulans would be violently ill. I estimate that Baroness Schwein von Alcott may be the only one that may reliably drink this."

After a second to process what she'd heard, Marelith stepped back from the lethal bottle. Merinda was the first to bark out orders though, one arm thrown out towards the holographic maids. "Stop serving drinks immediately! Inform my second that his presence is needed here. Have him bring an investigation team for attempted murder. I will have the origins of that bottle traced. Also, scan all the rest of the drinks."

"Excellent plan," Paris remarked, then took the floor once more. "So, ladies, you now have some idea of what life has been like on the USS Hera for a while, and what your Princess has been going through... aside from the whole 'give up your genetic material so I can have another successor in the bloodline to raise as my own' demand. We have lots of leads, and I'll be frank- we still have no direct evidence. But foul deeds are afoot, and Starfleet is here to see the investigation through."

"Because if any of it ties back to the family, we would like to be certain that before any long-standing compacts are disrupted, that the specific guilty parties are found. That's my stake in this, and that's my motivation... to bring this discussion back round to where we started." With that, Paris offered a respectful nod, and sat down in one of the elegantly carved chairs. Her part in the overture was done... but there was still an entire opera yet to be sung.

"How did you know?" Baroness Marelith stepped in to loom over the archaically-outfitted Starfleet siren. "Assuming that the analysis bears out your claim, how did you know? How do we know you didn't poison the wine yourself, just to drive home your point?"

"Fair question, but I doubt you're going to care for the answer," Paris replied calmly. "Our time-traveling niece from the future offered a few cryptic warnings, some spoilers, if you will, before going back to the future. This was one-" Paris tabbed up a brief clip of Kodria offering, "Two, the Saurian Brandy is poisoned. Also-"

Eyeing the six-armed cyber pirate's expression of disbelief, Paris spread her hands and shrugged broadly. "What? I was born 163 years ago in an alternate universe! This sort of thing happens every Tuesday for me. It doesn't make the information any less valid."

Allowing only the slightest of smiles at Rita's answer to crack her lips, Dox stepped forward. "All of you assembled here today do what you do in a universe of impossible wonders. Often time, OUR job on the Hera takes us beyond the boundaries of impossible. That's our job. We confront the impossible and we defeat the impossible. And sometimes, the impossible comes to visit with a warning."

Pausing for the briefest of moments to all her words to sink in, Dox continued. "This is exactly how far-reaching that the decisions made in this room today will extend, Baronesses. A young woman who will one day be family to myself, Captain Telvan, Commander Paris, and many of you came back... willing to risk temporal paradox that could undo themselves in their own time to enable a just ending to this tribunal. She is yet another reason that we are here. I will not allow her risk to be for nothing. None of us will."

Her tone was deadly serious and her eyes never wavered as she spoke to the assemblage. It was impossible- but it was also the truth, and the Baronesses could see that clearly in the face of Mnhei'sahe Dox.

Frederica shrugged it off and pulled out a tricorder, scanning a few of the bottles that were handy. "Her sister, Regina was the same way. Always making impossible dreams come true. At least, she made mine a reality." A smile graced the scantily clad, pink haired woman's face as she continued scanning the booze bottles. "This one has toxic levels of germanium in it for Trill," she added, holding up another bottle of Saurian brandy before setting it aside.

Merinda looked the bottle over for any identifying markers on it and found the inspection seal from one of Snodarss' distillery's, handing it off to the drunken Baroness, who pulled out a datapad and scanned the barcode. Upon seeing the results, she sobered up fast. "Delivered to the fortress directly via gate seventeen, which is reserved for the Queen Regent's deliveries. This shouldn't have even made its way into our bar." She then scanned the first bottle that was found to be poisoned, her expression turning even more grim. "This is from the same shipment."

Merinda placed her right hand over her heart and bowed once more to the Starfleet women. "If it had not been for that warning, several of us had likely died at this meeting and the Queen would have undoubtedly pinned the blame on you. Whatever your source, I trust it wholly. I believe I speak for all assembled when I offer our gratitude."

Bloody Batra punched one fist into her other hand. "Just let me know when we get to go hunting traitors and I'll make sure they're all pun..." Glancing around at the mix of justice inclined Baronesses and Starfleet officers, she calmed down a little. "Uh... Brought to justice and safely behind bars."

At that, Paris none-too-subtly nudged Lieutenant Dox, prompting her to speak. As the young Romulan woman’s eyes sought out those of the human woman, Paris merely nodded, offering an unspoken message of confidence in her. You can do this- you are one of them. You go and show 'em!

Clearing her throat just a hair, Dox glanced over to Captain Telvan who had her telltale smirk well in place letting the young Romulan Baroness know it was okay. "Thank you, Baroness Merinda. And I believe I speak for us when I say that your gratitude... and your trust... is greatly appreciated."

Then Dox allowed her own slightly skewed smirk out as she nodded to Batra. "And thank you for your willingness to help us see this through in a way that allows us to bring justice to these proceedings we can bring real freedom to this family. It makes me very proud to be a part of this family, and as you honor us I only hope to return it through my actions in these proceedings as one of your number."

"The Captain has a plan. A way to make this family into the very best version of itself, and I am glad you all are willing to help us see this through." Dox nodded slightly and stepped back as she deferred to the Captain. As she did, she turned to Rita and gave her friend an awkward grin as she silently mouthed, I have no idea where this is all coming from.

Captain Telvan, whom had been silent for almost this entire meeting, finally spoke up, Prompting the attentions of every one of those assembled. "Thank you all for your support. I have loved this family since I was old enough to remember and I swear to you, I will make it the very embodiment of Freedom that my great grandmother saw it as all those years ago. Right now, that means deposing my mother and freeing this area of space of her, but once that threat has passed, I will make sure the right people are in the right places to make sure we all go forward in the right way."

With that, Enalia placed her right hand over her heart and bowed before the assembled Baronesses, who scrambled to do the same, matching or beating the depth of her bow and not rising until she did so. Merinda was the first to speak. As usual, you humble us with your words, Princess. We look forward to the day you take your rightful place as Queen and head of the family."

"Well, I already have a spouse, so I've met one of the two requirements to do so." Enalia almost seemed to waver, but held it together. "The other is to defeat my mother in a duel and I fear she may press that in this tribunal."

"I agree. Even if we find all the evidence we need and present it at the tribunal, I fear she will not submit herself and will flee, forcing us to pursue her. If that is the case..." Merinda paused for seemingly dramatic effect. "We as the gathered Baronesses will be unable to assist you in her defeat. Only you will be able to do that."

Marelith swatted the stiff Trill playfully. "Don't depress the Princess like that... We can't help her go after her mother, but we can at least go after her assets. Keep her allies at bay so she won't have any reinforcements. Justice must be done, after all."

Enalia grinned that special grin of hers knowing that while she'd have to face her mother alone, she and her crew weren't in this on their own. "Thank you. All of you."

“So for those of us not steeped in generations of piratical lore, aside from cataloguing yet more circumstantial evidence, where do we go from here? This is my first Tribunal, after all,” Paris asked, once again being the one willing to ask a dumb question.

Merinda finally grinned and showed some emotion. "I think that save for myself, who knew Queen Enalia Artan three hosts ago, no one else here has been through a Tribunal. Gather all the evidence you are able and whatever aid you require, our crews will assist you. The programming for the maids is locked out by the head family, however I believe the Princess should be able to retrieve any logs or data from them?"

The spotted pirate princess turned Starfleet Captain nodded, that lopsided grin of hers widening. "Consider that done. I had Maru sweep through the entire fortress before we arrived and we should have a database of anything suspicious waiting for us, including any activities my mother has taken. With that and the information here, our current investigation teams should have more clues to follow up on."

"Then all that is left is to finish collecting all the evidence to present at the final Tribunal Hearing in five days," Merinda proclaimed. "And watch all of our backs as we do so because our enemy is not as honorable as we are."

"And then we can hunt down some bloody traitors and keel hau... Uh... Turn them over to the proper authorities." Bloody Batra had a reputation for being firm but kind to her allies but a deadly enemy, but she was doing her best with Starfleet uniforms in the room.

"Yeah! We'll show those bitches!" Sarika declared, giving Dox another tight hug. "Wooo!"

Smiling in spite of herself, Dox couldn't help but like the silver haired Baroness and her boundless excitement.

Enalia cheered as well, hinting at the quote on the Artan crest. "We will find our dreams of Freedom, be they among the stars or among our friends!"

The meeting between Captain Telvan and the assembled Baronesses that support her on the Artan council had gone well.

While the concrete evidence linking the Queen Regent of the family to the numerous conspiracies of collusion with the Orion Syndicate and the attempted murders of both Baroness Schwein von Allcot and Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox was still being sought, the was enough circumstantial evidence to sow significant doubt. The seeds had been planted.

But before the tribunal could begin in earnest, there was more to be done. And this was a task that was to fall to Captain Telvan's chief flight officer, Mnhei'sahe Dox.

The anxious lieutenant walked at a brisk pace with a PaDD in her hands down the ornately decorated corridor of the Artan family fortress. Through the transparent aluminum windows on either side of the walkway was a view of a spacious arboretum that Doc caught herself glancing towards as she reviewed the data on her PaDD. At her side, matching her pace with easy was the Captain's personal Yeoman, Ila Dedjoy.

As Dox walked, she put the PaDD in her back pocket and tugged on the tunic of her crimson uniform. "I'm glad the Captain insisted that you come with me. I... I honestly have no idea how I'm going to do this, Miss Dedjoy."

Ila smiled gently and rested a hand on the back of Dox's shoulder to offer her support. "If I may offer some advice, you share more in common with the Baroness than differences. Perhaps keep that in mind when making your case. Though after your speeches in front of the others, I think you'll be fine."

Nodding silently for a moment, Dox looked down as they walked and thought to herself, 'That's what I'm afraid of.'

Then, she took a breath to collect herself again. "Thank you. And, I wanted to say that I'm happy to see you again. I know between the Anansi incident and the Section 31 base, we haven't exactly shared the most positive memories on the ship together, but I'm glad for the opportunity to rectify that."

"Well, there's not much threat of being eaten alive here and even if they tried to poison or stab me..." Ila chuckled softly. "I wish them luck. I even made sure I could be spaced safely, just in case. No repeats of my own twin sister's..." Clearing her throat, she glanced down at her own PaDD. "Yeah... If you need to use me as a shield, please don't hesitate."

Letting a slight smirk out, Dox was clearly uncomfortable, and not just because Ila's words reminded her of her own near-death experience of being beamed into space without a suit. "Well... let's hope it doesn't come to that. With any luck, I can remember something useful to say and not just lock up."

"So..."Dox continued, changing the subject a bit. "...how much further to... where are we meeting them, again?"

"It should be the meeting hall just ahead. The one with the tan and green columns at the entrance." Ila motioned towards the entryway that they were coming up on, the double doors opening as they approached.

"No time like the present, I suppose." Dox sighed.

Gulping, the Red-headed Romulan pilot adjusted her uniform top one last time. "Imirrhlhhse." She muttered, cursing in her native Rihan under her breath as she arrived at the doorway. She was far enough from the assembled Romulans inside so her voice wouldn't carry even to their sensitive ears, but the sight was intimidating enough.

Like every corner of the Artan Fortress, the conference room was an ornate affair. A large enough room to meet with a hundred people or so, the ceiling was a dome lined with a pearl filagree running up and down the curves. The walls of the room appeared to be lined with ornate reliefs of swirling flowers on thorned vines covered in gold leaf. Yet another example of the wealth Dox knew was accumulated through generations of illicit activities.

Activities she used to be quite the part of when she was a young smuggler. When she first met the woman she was to meet with today. Baroness Sienae Nei'rrh of the Romulan Refugee Corps. One of a number of Romulans that Dox and her mother once transported from Romulus to freedom.

In the center of the room was a large, 'C' shaped table of reddish wood surrounded by large carved high-back chairs. And standing in a cluster near the closest part of the table was an assemblage of Romulans, talking among themselves, barely pausing long enough to acknowledge Dox's arrival.

The Baroness was easy enough to spot - most of those assembled were wearing traditional Romulan garb. Checkered tans, browns, and greens in a conservative paneled manner. The Baroness was wearing what appeared to be something that a seat cushion factory threw up with added gold shoulder boards and tassels. The pattern was an orange and green camo print with circuit-like lines printed across it. Other than that, the whole thing looked so wide and bulky and just... Out of place... Just like the old 2350's Romulan military uniforms, but somehow larger and more ostentatious.

'Maybe I should have worn the Green Baroness uniform after all.' Dox thought to herself as she straightened her back up and walked in, doing her level best to match that martial stride Rita Paris was known for that helped her project some measure of confidence. As she walked up to the assemblage, she spoke in the clearest and strongest voice she could manage. "Greeting. I am Baroness Fifth Class, Mnhei'sahe Dox. I come on behalf of Princess Enalia Telvan, thank you for allowing me this audience."

"Ah, the new Baroness! I had heard you would be paying me a visit." Sienae spread her arms as best she could, given her attire, greeting the younger Romulan. "Your mother and I worked together for several years. Fortunately, I was able to cut a deal with the Artan's to represent the Romulan refugees when you were young due to my experience as the commander of a D'deridex. I hear that you've done well for yourself since the Forager and your mother's mission was put out of commission by the Starfleet that you now serve alongside our Princess." Her plastic smile never wavered, but she was obviously searching for a reaction - she and the others in the room were definitely Romulan pit vipers.

"Thank you." Dox replied somewhat plainly, keeping her face neutral. "Well, the Reman uprising put our mission out of commission by allowing the Tal'Shiar to strengthen its grip upon the people. But we are hopeful that with the aid of Captain Telvan at the head of the family, that reunification can find fresh footing. On that note, my mother sends her regrets that she could not be here herself to greet you, but she entrusted me to speak on her behalf in this meeting."

"Those were indeed hard times and much has changed since then. Please, I am sure you have risked much to speak on behalf of her, the Princess, and I presume yourself as well." The elder Romulan in the Tackiest Couch Cushion motioned for Mnhei'sahe to make her case.

Nodding, with her arms crossed behind her back, Dox spoke. There was the slightest of tremors in her voice at first, betraying her nervousness more than she would have liked. "Indeed. Much has changed. In the last few months, we believe that the Queen Regent has, in an attempt to undermine the authority of Princess Telvan, been involved with a number of plots designed to destabilize the family's holdings. Plots designed to exploit weakness she has created in order to buttress them herself in an attempt to sway the votes in this upcoming tribunal to her favor."

"In specific, your vote, Baroness." The young pilot had found her voice and was projecting herself throughout the room, ignoring the questioning glares of Nei'rrh's crew and fixing her attention on the Baroness herself.

"And why is my vote in particular so critical to such a... Proceeding?" She had obviously changed her wording, instead choosing something more diplomatic, her face still that of a rigid and well trained Romulan commander.

"It is important to the Princess to resolved this matter in the tribunal in order to effect a peaceful exchange of power and avoid unnecessary conflict. At current count, the Queen Regent has three Baronesses declared for her. The Princess has six. There is one Baroness who is abstaining at this time and four who are undeclared. You are one of those four and the Princess would like the opportunity to present her case to you and, if possible, secure your vote."

Then Dox's tone dipped to a more stern one. "And It is my hope, that the debt you swore to my mother will, at the least, prompt you to listen to what I have to say here today. The Queen Regent is attempting to manipulate you."

"Then please enlighten me as to her manipulations," Seinae prompted, still not giving anything away.

She held up the PaDD in her hand for all to see. "17 days ago, Baroness Schwein von Allcot, the adjunct to Princess Enalia Telvan, was the target of an assassination attempt on the holodeck of our ship. A Starfleet vessel. The holodeck program had been corrupted with malware that infiltrated the Baronesses cybernetics while the program itself had overridden the ships safety protocols with a scenario designed to kill the Baroness. Thankfully, she was not alone that day and I and the crew were able to defeat the program."

"In that program, was a threat recorded by Arenara Artan and a perfect recreation of the bridge of her own ship. An 8 second recorded loop of her actual bridge played back in detail. On this PaDD is the information we were able to collect from that recreation." Stepping up, she handed the PaDD to the Baroness who eyed it suspiciously.

"The bridge recreation used a scan of her actual bridge and as such, recorded a significant amount of data. Including her ships location, where it was headed, and who she was in contact with, and when this all occurred. As you will see, the Queen Regent was in communication with the Orion Syndicate on her way to the Aehallh station to meet. If you'll note the time stamp, Baroness, that meeting occurred a week prior to the Orion attacks that crippled your own fleet and decimated your ranks."

Watching the look on the older Romulan woman's face, Dox could see the wheels turning in spite of any efforts to not give anything away of her own thoughts. It was often said that subterfuge was second nature to the race and detecting it just as natural to them. "Oh, and it may be of interest for me to remind you that the date of my induction into the ranks of Baroness was recorded officially... only two weeks before that."

Standing with her arms folded behind her back, Dox waited for the Baroness Nei'rrh to process the information provided and come to the conclusion she knew the Romulan woman would be drawn to. There was no way that the attacks that slipped past all of their defenses as if they weren't there could now be seen as coincidence. Nor could the ease in which the Queen regent came to the rescue.

The inner workings of the Baroness's mind were spinning and not in a good way. She had expected this sort of thing to be presented to her, and indeed, this was one of the reasons she had gotten close to the Queen Regent in the first place. To be handed exactly the evidence she had been looking for though... Still, she could give nothing away, just in case the wrong people were watching.

"I suspect that this is all trickery in order to misdirect you," Sienae stated, trying to keep her face impassive and condescending as she tossed the PaDD onto the conference table. "Lies and deceit abound in the underworld and if you believe everything that you see and hear, you will soon be lost. Besides that, this is circumstantial and planted evidence at best. For your sake, I hope you have stronger evidence at the final hearing."

"Rest assured, we will." Dox replied, eyes fixed on Sienae's. Something more was going on here that Dox was just becoming aware of, but she had cards of her own yet to be played. "Although my being misdirected was likely not counted on... Just my death. A death that you were intended to be blamed for."

This news actually elicited a semblance of an emotional response from the olive-skinned woman, her eyes widening slightly. "Do please explain."

"An assassin droid, placed in a crate on board my Artan ship tried very, very hard to kill me and in doing so, killed an officer under my charge." Dox was angry as she recounted the incident and that anger was now projecting throughout the room.

"The droid was disguised as a Romulan ceremonial pendant, claiming to be a family heirloom. Those crates were presented as gifts to me from the Baronesses. And this crate was logged as coming from your ship, Baroness. The box housing the pendant was embossed with my Grandmothers name and a photo of my Mother, myself, and you standing on the deck of the Forager. Someone put a great deal of effort into attempting to create a number of false trails, but we are investigating the truth.

"This and the other charges against her will be proven. And when they are, it will place the Queen Regent in direct violation of the treaty and Charters the Artan Family has with the Federation. That treaty is what allows you all to conduct your business in this sector without facing charges yourself. So, I would ask you who truly has the interests of the family at heart?"

"This is indeed dire news. You have my deepest condolences for the loss of your officer." The Baroness bowed slightly, having recovered her composure quickly. She had no doubt that the assassination attempt was from the Queen Regent, but she had to cast doubt and dispersion off her herself at the very least for the time being. "But I ask you this. Would not the evidence of such a mastermind be layered several times deep? If it does truly lead back to the Queen Regent, I will look forward to such solid evidence as you provide it on the day of the hearing. Until then, I am forced to treat it as a coincidence and an unrelated incident. Perhaps it was a present from the Tal'Shiar. We both know how impressively stealthy they are and how duplicitous their threats and words may be."

"Thank you, Baroness." Dox returned the bow, processing everything that she had just been told. The tone of Sienae Nei'rrh was somehow off to Dox's ear. A lifetime of weaving through Romulan lies gave her a decent ear for picking it up. And she was absolutely being lied to, but it was in just what she was being lied to about that gave her pause. Until she thought back to Nei'rrh's earlier words and the pieces began falling into place for the young Starfleet officer.

"As for your words, I will give them serious consideration as well. Misdirection... does seem to be at play here." Looking back at the senior Baroness, Dox allowed no smile to crack her facade but she hoped her meaning was understood without tipping either woman's hand.

"If I may, It has warmed my heart to see you again, Mnhei'sahe. You have your mother's ears and your father's passion. I trust that they will both serve you well in the coming days." Placing her right hand over her heart, Sienae respectfully bowed her head.

"Thank you Baroness Nei'rrh. Your words honor me and I too am glad to see you again. It is my hope to speak again at the resolution of this affair and I thank you for your time and this audience." Dox returned the gesture, placing her own hand over her heart, located on Romulans below the right breast, and bowed her own head.

Though the Romulan Baroness did not allow the Fortress's holographic maids to serve her during functions or meetings, her enemies had other ways to spy on her. Thus the Ferengi spy inside of one of the shrubbery pots that had been beamed in shortly before the meeting. Grinning widely, he knew that he had earned some extra latinum this day. Arenara would be pleased at the developments that this meeting had brought about.

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

As the meeting adjourned, Dox and Dedjoy made their polite exit. Once the pair were halfway down the corridor and Dox was moderately sure nobody could still hear her as the doors had firmly reclosed, she turned to the doll-like Yeoman with a slight smile.

"Believe it or not, I actually think that went well." Dox commented, still speaking softly just in case. "She wouldn't say it out loud, but that comment about misdirection... I think she already had her own suspicions and just couldn't acknowledge them."

"I'll have to take your word on that. I don't have enough experience with Romulan culture to say one way or another. I did detect a noticeable rise in her heart rate a time or two and that was one of them, but..." Ila shook her head and glanced down at her PaDD. "I just don't have the experience to interpret her responses. I'm sorry I wasn't of more help."

While they walked, Dox turned around to look suspiciously at the room. "With most Romulans... It's what's not being said that you need to listen for. I almost forgot that myself."

Looking back at Dedjoy, Dox raised an eyebrow. "One of them what?"

"Her comment about misdirection... Her heart rate shot up. I could see it in her jugular." Ila clarified nervously. "Also when she learned of your assassination and when you handed her the PaDD.

"That all but confirms it, Ila. Thank you She did have her own suspicions, and she doesn't want it known that she knows just yet, I'm thinking." Dox whispered. "Any interesting reactions from the others in the room?"

Ila shook her head, her hair bobbling lightly. "They seemed genuinely concerned at the mention of the assassination attempt, but that was all I could really gather."

"Well, hopefully, that means that her crew is still on her side. We'll see." Dox said as the pair continued to the lift to return to the Hera. "I wish I had better news to report to the Captain. But this may be a case of the door still being open being the best news possible. And at least nobody tried to kill anyone at this meeting."

The remains of the j-type light freighter, the Khallianen, lay in scattered pieces in the corner of the deck of the loud and busy Shuttlebay two. The nacelles were dismantled and stacked against the side bulkhead. The flight computer components were collected in a series of cargo containers to the side of the still-twisted hatchway on the ships port side.

As Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox looked over the picked apart pieces of what was one her personal ship, a gift from of the Artan fleet after her induction as a Baroness in their ranks, her heart sank a little.

The Khallianen was dismantled by the science and Intel teams of the U.S.S. Hera after an assassination attempt resulted in the red-headed Romulan woman almost being murdered in this very room, and left another officer dead for getting in the way. The assassin was a small droid, hidden amongst the crates of gifts left for her on the Khallianen from the other Baronesses of the Artan Family.

The investigation into her attempted assassination was still ongoing, although without any assistance from her for obvious, if frustrating, reasons. But science and Intel had cleared the ship as safe and the Hera's unlikely Flight Chief was allowed to see it again.

Climbing up into the small ship, she sighed. The hatch had been twisted out of shape when the assassin droid had rammed it with one of the Hera's own Work Bees. To Dox's left was what was left of the cockpit. Most of the consoles had been removed and all of the internal components of the ships drive system, steering column and flight computer we're in pieces in the cargo containers outside. And the windscreen was still gone from when she had to blast it out to escape.

To her right were the four crates of gifts that had clearly been rifled through with every form of scanner the ship could provide. The items cataloged, sealed in envelopes and replacdd. Then, Dox's eyes began to swell as she saw the pieces of her own hoverbike in the cargo area at the rear of the ship.

The matte silver antique had been one of the only possessions of hers that she had brought with her on board the Hera from her storage unit back on Earth. She had built that bike by hand when she was still a teenager and it had survived the attack intact, but didn't survive the security investigation that took the ship and everything in it apart. She understood the necessity, of course, but it did little to deaden the sting in that moment.

Sitting down on the ground between the pieces of her former hoverbike and the crates, Dox stifled a desire to cry. She had so few personal possessions she had cared about, and those were now largely destroyed all because she had said 'yes’ when Captain Telvan had welcomed her back into the life she had once worked so hard to abandon.

She started to look through the crates and see what was left, wiping her eyes dry. “Kreldanni child…” she whispered to herself, cursing in her native Rihan as she was known to do. “You're supposed to be an officer. Start acting like it.”

At her feet was one of the four crates- the crate containing six bottles of premium Kali-Fal. Known across the galaxy as Romulan Ale, it was the brand she and her mother used to deal in as smugglers when she was younger. A reminder, both of that life, and of the person she had been desperately trying to put behind her.

She pulled out one of the bottles, scanned and investigated through to ensure it was safe. But in her hands it was anything but safe. In her hands it was the path back to the perpetually angry, self-loathing, self-destructive young woman Mnhei'sahe Dox has spent months trying to bury in the past. She replaced the bottle, kicking the crate just a little further away as she kept looking through the crates.

The items had all been scanned individually and cataloged by the Intel department. In one padded envelope marked ‘Evidence: 12-4’, was a framed photograph. The glass had been removed, likely broken in the attack, but the photograph was intact. It was a photo of herself, he mother and the Romulan refugee turned Baroness, Sienae Nei'rrh. Just a day ago, Dox had met with Nei'rrh to try and sway her to vote with the Captain in the upcoming Tribunal and was less than successful.

Staring back at Dox was the forced, painful smile of her twelve-year-old self. Pudgy as ever, with pale pink skin and rounded off ears, but sporting the familiar, pointed banged bowl cut common among Romulans. A very different sight from the olive-skinned, pointed eared woman she was now. She still had the pointed bangs, though.

“Lovely…” she muttered as she tossed the picture aside towards the hatch. “The entire kreldanni Intel team knows what you looked like as a little girl. Because that's going to help them take you seriously.”

“If a picture of you as a teenager is going to make them lose respect for you, they didn’t have much to begin with,” the clear voice of Rita Paris rang out from the hatchway, where she’d been leaning for a moment or two. Eyeing the devastation wrought by her order to ‘take this ship apart piece by piece to ensure that there are no further threats to the crew of the Hera’, she offered a pained smile. “You wanna talk about it?”

"Commander?!" Dox looked up, startled that she hadn't noticed Rita Paris's approach, she was so lost in her own head. The anxious youn Romulan pilot straightened up almost out of instinct for a second before relaxing again and thinking about her friend's offer.

Picking another envelope out of the crate in front of her with a memory sealed inside, Dox sighed slightly. "I... I don't really know what to talk about. I still don't know how I'm supposed to feel about this."

Saying the word 'supposed', it was evident from Dox's tone that she was substituting it for the word 'allowed'. The very existence of the small Pirate ship aboard the Hera, even endorsed and encouraged by the Captain, had been a point of tension between the two women.

“Well, you should feel how you feel, Miss Dox,” Paris explained as she stepped slightly inside the craft and leaned against the warped hatchway. “We're both off duty. Not Commander and Lieutenant, just you and me, here, Mnhei’sahe. So speak your piece… if you need to yell at me, I promise to take it gracefully.”

"I need to yell at myself. I want to yell at myself. Let out all the anger and guilt that I know isn't ever going to leave because of this ship." Dox flumped back, knocking against the bulkhead will the back of her head as she spoke. "I used to come here all the time, Rita. Whenever I couldn't get my head to shut up or when I had a tough decision to make in the office. I'd come here and work on the ship."

Kicking the removable deckplate to her right, Dox kept talking. "I'd bury myself down there and re-route the power couplings. I'd mess around with the hydraulics on the hatch or re-wire the flight computer. I'd tinker. And I guess I'm mad that I don't have that anymore, as selfish as that sounds."

"It was a better distraction than..." As she spoke, she glanced for the briefest of seconds at the crate of Kali-Fal, "...other things."

“Well… perhaps I am being insensitive here, and I apologize if I am, but you definitely have lots of reassembly to do, so… can you not tinker on it still? What am I missing here, Miss Dox?” Sliding her back down the bulkhead, Paris settled herself on the deck to bring her to eye level with the morose Rihannsu. How she managed to pull off such stunts in a miniskirt was a source of unending mystery to Dox, but then, Rita did have years of practice in that minidress uniform of hers.

The anxious your pilot rolled her shoulders a little. "I can fix some basic systems. I can rewire some consoles. But this is... reassembling a starship from the parts. Mona or Thex could do it but it's more than..." As she spoke, she could practically prognosticate Rita's answer telling her to not dare belittle her own abilities before she had even tried.

"I... Guess I could try. It would be a hell of a project, at least." Dox tried to allow a slight smile to crack her dour facade. As she spoke, she began thumbing through the envelopes and security wrapped packages in the crates.

“Wanna tell me what’s really bothering you, then?” Rita asked softly. While the woman was a master of relaying nearly every potential emotion in conversation, in this case Paris was approaching the subject gently, and trying to give Dox time to get it off her chest, while gently kneading and prodding at her to open up over what was genuinely bothering her. “Was it that I ordered her taken apart and not reassembled? I can fix that…”

"What? No." Dox replied rather quickly. She was unsure even if what she was feeling exactly at the moment, but it wasn't anger towards Rita. "It's not the ship. And... It doesn't have anything to do you. Honestly. I'm not upset at you, Rita. If you would have let me, I would have come down here myself to help after... after what happened. I guess it... these."

Gesturing to the remaining three crates of personal effects, Dox leaned forward, running her hand over her ear to tug lightly as she spoke. "When I got the ship... I never looked in these. I just put them away to ignore them. The first time I opened them up was... well... just before the assassin droid was activated. I didn't want to see. Honestly. That pendant and the picture over there is exactly as far as I got before I put them back away."

"Hnaev... Sam knows what's in here better than I do " Dox scoffed.

Holding up her ever-present PaDD, Paris wagged it. "I've got the inventories if you're interested, all dutifully cataloged. That's not what's bothering you, though. I mean the general malaise I get..." The eyes of Rita Paris sprung open, and an expression of marvel flooded her features. "You think I'm mad at you over all of this, don't you?"

Pointing the PaDD at the lieutenant, the commander pursued her hunch. "You think I'm eyeing all of this with a sneer of disdain because it's all tied up in 'that pirate business'. Even when I don't say a word- that's it. You've heard my opinions on it before, know it to be applicable to the situation, so assume, given that I'm pretty constant, that I haven't changed my mind about it. Which means that you as an officer know it, and it colors everything you do, particularly when it comes to piracy. Or at least, that's my assumption."

Leaning forward, Dox tore open another one of the packages. It contained another photo of herself and her mother from years ago. As she put it on the ground between the two, she replied. But her voice was quiet and weak as she spoke. "That scared me for a while. It's why I never asked you to come see the ship. At first... I was excited about the controls and I wanted to show you, but... Yeah. That did worry me. But that's not what's bothering me right now."

"For a while... I didn't want to open any of this. I didn't want to because while the crates were closed, it was all abstract. The people who gave me them were just pirates. But once I opened them, it would be real. Real people. People that I knew growing up. These would be what they are... memories." Dox's head hung a little lower as she spoke, looking down at the photo of her and her mother.

"You remember the first thing Kodria said in that message for me?" Dox looked up at Rita, her eyes searching and plaintive.

The brow of the first officer furrowed then she recalled. "Ohhhh... your mother. Okay, so... you think she's in danger? You think one of our missions is going to get her killed out here, and that's why she warned you?"

"It wasn't a warning, like 'don't drink the Brandy'. It was... different. She's wasn't trying to give me some clue to try and stop it. She was just urging me to appreciate the time we had left." Nervously, Dox put her fist to her chin as she all but whispered her next words.

"They both said the same thing."

"They who? You lost me there, I'm afraid," Paris admitted. "Kodria aaaand...?"

Sitting back, Dox cleared her throat and took a long breath. "It was... Months ago. Back in February now. When I found out about my father. She... Death... she told me the same thing, Rita. She... she said... I remember every word... she said 'The next time you meet your mother, promise me one thing. You won't talk to her in anger. You have precious little time left with her and words spoken in anger only reduce that time further. Instead, please try to use compassion and open-mindedness.' Those were her words."

"Ahhhhhh, see, this is the downside of hanging out with powerful forces of the universe who can't be argued with," Paris clawed the air before her in mock rage at the universe. "So, your time with your mother seems very possibly limited. None of us have any guarantees, you know? Death herself might tell you you'll live to be nine hundred years old, yet you still might get hit by a shuttlecraft tomorrow."

"I refuse to believe that any of this is written in stone, and neither did Kodria, clearly. Which makes me wonder if I'm the one she learned it from. Which I can't worry about, because I can't worry about predestination, I need to live in the here and now." Rolling her eyes, the out of date officer redirected again. "But you ARE worried. So, talk to me. Tell me what you're afraid to say?"

"I know that it could all change or not mean what I think. I could be the one to die or a thousand other things might happen. It might be tomorrow or in ten years. Who knows what 'not much time' means to functionally immortal people talking to someone with a potential two hundred plus years left?" Dox rambled a bit. It was obvious she had been running all the scenarios in her head for a while now.

"I'm just worried that I'm going to screw it up. Ultimately... The only thing I can do, really, is just follow their advice as best as possible. I just..." Dox paused for a second. "I just got her back and for the first time in forever... I feel like I have a mother. And now I'm just afraid to lose that again."

Levering herself up onto her knees, Rita scooted over across the ship to sit next to her friend. "That's love, Dox. Love means having something to lose, and that can be scary. Especially when cosmic beings and time travelers kind of point right to it. But love is what we do it for. Love moves mountains and can pull you through space and time. Fear gets things done, but love... love can do anything. So because of that, sure, it's fair to be a little scared, for all the people you love in your life. Because they won't be there forever, and that's a fact. Some of us are mere mortals, y'know."

"The key is trust, Dox. I," Paris scooted back to be able to look at the little lieutenant to emphasize her point. "Sent you off with those gun-happy psychotics and their crazed leader into that hole of the damned and weird science. I was terrified for you. I love you, and I was genuinely afraid that I'd sent you off where a stray beam was going to end you, and that would be it. I commanded you to your doom."

"I couldn't worry about that, though. I had my mission, you had yours. I had to trust that you would do everything right to make it back alive, and I did the same. That might be part of the puzzle you're missing? You have to trust in your mother to be on guard and protective of her own life, to come back safely." Raising and eyebrow as she settled back in next to the redhead, the blonde looked up at the overhead.

"Besides, I paired her up with Az'prel, who an entire universe couldn't kill. A woman who escaped an apocalypse is someone I trust to survive, at the very least." Leaning over, Rita parked the side of her head on top of Mnhei'sahe's and sighed. "Mrs. Dox will make it home safely, I have full confidence. She's got you and Mona to come back to... you've given her a whole lot more to live for. And I suspect she is enjoying her current mission more than her suite at the Starfleet Hilton. She's getting to live a life of her own again, and that's because you made it possible."

"Oh, I'm sure she's having the time of her life right now. And that there are very likely explosions involved. I know she's coming back. And she'll find the evidence the Captain needs. And I'll hug her and do my best to follow Kodria and Rei's advice because regardless of what I know or don't know, it's good advice." Dox replied, with a light if awkward chuckle as she name dropped the grim reaper.

"It's almost funny. Starfleet tries to train us to face the unknown and deal with the impossible. But there's really no preparation for the Hera." The young officer looked up with the first actual smile she had cracked all evening. "Thank you, though. Thank you for reminding me that it's worth it. I was sitting here, only seeing what was lost. Not what could be."

"I lost an entire universe, my past, as well as any and all relevancy," Paris pointed out. "But look what I gained in return? Having him here just makes it perfect, but even without Sonak, I would have a good life here. I am needed. I am valued. I am surrounded by shipmates who respect me and love me for who and what I am... duotronics and all. Sometimes from loss comes incalculable gain. But focusing on the loss doesn't get you there. Focusing on the love that binds us together, on the other hand, can see you through quite a bit, in my experience."

"Trust your mother, if not in all things, at least to be strong enough to make it back home to you. To return to her family, that she hasn't known for half your life, now. Trust that the woman who raised you to be so brutal in personal combat will fight ten times that hard to make it back to you and Mona and this odd and unique starship that is our home... all of us." Wrapping an arm around the young Romulan woman, the human astronaut of another age hugged her. "Yes?"

Leaning into the hug, Dox nodded simply in response, smiling. "Yes."

The sat for a long moment in silence, the bustle of the busy deck outside echoing through the empty ship they were in before Dox sat back up and looked around at the ship, in pieces. "You're right..."

"This isn't a loss, either it's an opportunity. To make this ship what I want it to be, right?" Dox turned to Rita with a slight smirk on her face. "What do you think?"

“I think you’ve come a long way from Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox, and seeing all of this as an opportunity,” the buxom bombardier waved in an expansive and elegant gesture to all of the scattered parts and components of the small starship, “speaks volumes to that change. I’m very proud of you, Miss Dox. Despite my disapproval of some of what we’re involved in, don’t ever imagine for a moment that I blame you or that I am upset with you. I’m just… defensive of you, is all. Call it the big sister reflex I never got to use,” Paris shrugged with a wry grin.

“I can be upset with the situation and not upset with you. It works that way sometimes. But you should be able to come to me about anything- you are under me in the chain of command, and it is my duty to be there for you,” the compassionate commander explained. “As your friend, I have it on good authority that my stern disapproval can be intimidating, but remember- I care. I want to help. Your well-being- physical, professional and emotional- are all in part my responsibility. So don’t think that because the old lady doesn’t like pirates that she’d going to be hostile to you about a situation that drives her crazy. Okay?”

Nodding, Dox smiled gratefully. "Okay. I promise. And... when this is all over, however the proverbial chips may fall, this will still be mine, Baroness or not. When I get her running again. I'd... really like to take her out for a run with you, if you want."

Offering a warm smile, Paris patted her beleaguered friend on the shoulder. “I’d love that. Of course, given that it’s me, you’re liable to end up crash-landed on some primitive planet where they worship you as a goddess, which sounds swell right up until you find out they are going to sacrifice you to appease their angry volcano god… but I’m willing to take the chance if you are!”

"Yeah. Sounds like shore leave to me." Dox replied, with a smile. As she did, she pulled out another package from the crate in front of her. Tearing the envelope open, she pulled out a small box. Inside was a handful of latinum coins. For a moment, she stared at them with a cricked eyebrow.

"Hnaev... Okay. I can't believe it. Rita, these are counterfeit. Years ago, a ship of Ferengi tried to cheat my mother out of six cases of Kali-Fal. We followed them back and beamed these directly into their nav console and fried their entire ship. An Artan patrol picked them up and delivered them to the Starfleet liaison. I can't believe someone kept these."

Taking a moment to laugh, the two women continued opening up the packages, each containing a piece of the red-headed Romulans past. Some prompted more laughs, others the occasional tear. Into the night, together the two friends sorted through the past of one Mnhei'sahe Dox.

In the days to come, they would have to face the trials Enalia Telvan's tribunal. But in that moment, they were just two friends talking, and the problems yet to come would wait. And even then, they knew that those challenges would be dealt with the same way: together

It had been nearly two weeks since Jaeih Dox had left the U.S.S. Hera, along with the Vulcan Refugee Az'Prel, to begin their investigation into the Queen Regent of the Artan Pirate Family in preparation for the Tribunal between the Queen and Captain Enalia Telvan.

The Tribunal was only days away now and the Hera had been docked at the Artan Fortress in final preparations, and with precious little left to do but wait, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox had been stewing in her own mind. Earlier in the evening, she had had a good conversation with her friend Rita Paris concerning her fears and concerns regarding the safety of her mother in the upcoming proceedings. But it was a talk that had illuminated that the young Romulan pilot had been, in her fear, neglecting another friend since her mother had left the ship.

Tonight, she would try and make that right. Standing outside the V.I.P. crew quarters on Deck 8, the red-headed Romulan woman was carrying a large, two-inch thick cardboard box, It's large square surface had wisps of steam coming through the sides as she nodded at the two mountains that guarded the door. Dox was one of the few crewmembers who was authorized to come and go from this room as they pleased, and after a moment to give her passcode to the computer, the door hissed open and she stepped into the room's foyer.

Standing inside, she spoke somewhat softly. "Rei. I... hope you don't mind, but... I brought pizza."

"Is that Chicago deep dish that I smell?" the embodiment of Death asked, hopping up from her meditations and heading towards Dox, a beautiful aura of pure white sand from her meditation circle following her and being sucked back into the bottle that she carried in her jacket pocket. "I can't wait to eat it with you. Asa dropped off a case of root beer yesterday. It's a bit sweet, but I think it would be perfect for this."

"Pizza and Root Beer is, indeed, a perfect combination," Dox replied, carrying the pizza over to the mid-sized dining room table as a pang of guilt twisted in her stomach at the mention that Asa had been there the day before, making her feel a bit worse about being neglectful.

Setting the box down, Dox stepped over to the kitchenette to replicate the proper utensils and plates for deep dish Pizza. "And yes, it is Chicago-style. I grabbed it from the mess, so hand cooked. No replication."

"This has got to be one of the best vacation spots I've ever found," Rei gushed as she pulled out two of the bottles of root beer and popped them open, setting them on the table. "I can work remotely, I can find you from anywhere, the food is amazing, I have people to talk with... Friends! I haven't had friends since I was alive! Normally, I have to worry about people trying to best me in a game or a battle or trying to kill me right as they're dying to try and take my job... But here, I don't really have to worry about that, ne?"

"Well, I haven't told anyone what you told me about... that. Not even Asa. It didn't seem like it was my information to share, if that makes sense. But, no. I don't want your job. At all. Promise." Dox had a slight smile creeping in the corner of her face as she plated two heaping slices of Pizza.

"But... I haven't been a very good friend the last couple of weeks and... and I really wanted to apologize." As she sat down across from the woman once known as Masato Rei, Dox nodded slightly as she spoke, a timid tremble to her voice. "I'm very sorry I haven't been by."

Rei nodded solemnly as she sat down and got ready to eat. "I saw you in the hanger bay. You've had a lot to deal with since then so I figured I'd leave you to take care of the living for a while. Besides, I knew you'd be by eventually. But if it helps, I accept your apology and forgive you."

"Thank you." Dox replied, though through slightly pursed lips. "But 'take care of the living' is an abstract concept at best. I need to take care of those that are important to me, and whatever your cosmic status is, you're included in that."

"Seventh-dimensional asset of this polydimensional retention," Rei replied with a grin as she opened the box and pulled out a slice. "But that probably doesn't mean much of anything to you, does it?" Biting into the deep dish pizza, the smaller woman could barely wrap her lips around it and her next words were a bit muffled. "Mph... So howsh the injuriesh?" Even when eating, she never took off her black gloves, but they never seemed to get dirty, even when eating something greasy like this.

Breaking with all Pizza-eating protocol, Dox instead cut a piece off from her slice with a knife and fork and took a bite. Swallowing, she shrugged slightly. "Still just a little stiff around the knee, but Asa said that was to be expected. Otherwise, good. All healed up. Also... I wanted to say... I've been taking your advice about my mother and... well... things have been better. In a lot of ways, so thank you."

"That's good to hear. I worry about you. I don't want to collect early on either of you..." Rei paused a moment before continuing. "But time is running out, either way. I can't ignore my job, you know. That's how zombies are made." She then continued to eat as if she hadn't just said something revelatory.

"I... do not need to know this much about the specifics of your job. Seriously. I don't want it." Dox almost chuckled at the 'zombie' comment. Then she got a bit more serious again.

"But, yeah. Kodria... Our little Android niece from the future left me a message that said almost the same thing you did. Nothing like an external confirmation to put something in your head. And... I don't know specifics and that's for the best. But... I just wanted to say that I understand."

"I could have not asked your name all those months ago. But I'm very glad I did. And as much as I know it will hurt, I want you to know that... I know what your role here is. And that it's important. I don't want you to think that I'm going to blame you." Dox was starting to tear up as she spoke.

"After Paulson... believe it or not... one of the few things that brought me any comfort was knowing that a friend had come to be there with him when it happened."

Rei set her pizza down for a moment and placed one hand on Dox's. She had escorted literally hundreds of trillions across the barrier and Paulson was no different. She still felt for her friend though and she wanted to say something. "The one you knew as Paulson is now in the afterlife. And... If it helps... It was sudden and peaceful."

A tear fell down her cheek as she smiled. In the hangar, when she spoke over Paulson's body, she said a very old Romulan prayer to the great good, Al'thindor. But in her heart, she was speaking to her friend across the table. The one she couldn't see at the time but knew had been there. "Thank you. I do appreciate it. I'm glad... to know you. I'm glad to call you my friend."

"And I'm glad to call you mine," added Rei, trying to smile pleasantly. It likely came of as a rather grim smile, but she did her best.

Returning the smile with her own perpetually awkward grin, Dox wiped her face before cutting another piece of Pizza off. "So... okay, no more crying. How have you been? Have you seen Sam since the dance?"

"I check in on him now and then. He seems to be pretty busy with work." The dark woman picked her pizza back up and nommed on it some more. "I don't want to bother him too much."

Chewing on her own pizza, Dox smirked. "Well, I know he likes you. And, he can actually see you as you. Though now that I think of it might just be because of his cybernetics. But regardless, I don't think he would be bothered."

Regardless of how bizarre it might seem to others, Dox was extremely happy that her unique friendship with the 'seventh-dimensional asset of this polydimensional retention' known as Death was intact as the two shared a pizza and just talked.

Bracers of the Moon and Sun
Current status: Experimental discovered Olympian (Ambrosian) technology

Crafted by the Amazons of Meroset 347, the bronze bracers are of masterful workmanship and artful engravings, depicting battles and scribing creeds and reminders of the Amazon's code, all in Cyrillic ancient Grecian script. Most of the passages are written in a fifth case, the Vocative case, which is a form that causes many of the words, although similar, to be pronounced in different ways. Embedded sub-quantum projectors into the underside enable the user to produce a number of effects.

The left bracer, the Moon-themed bracer is activated through a series of muscular flexings and hand movements- primarily leveling and flexing a defensive fist. When activated the device evidences an energy shield. The shield is a thin film transparent neutronium simulacrum, which is impervious to all but the most powerful hand-held energy weapons it intercepts. It also slows incoming kinetic damage in a manner not unlike a portable inertial dampener.

If no size or shape is visualized by the user, the shield that springs into place upon activation is a half meter wide slightly rounded shield, comprised of lines of faint blue energy that flicker at the edge of human visual perception. They flare to full illumination when in use, however. Similar symbols and phrases as found on the bracers can be seen in the revolving lines of the energy construct, with some variance (see fig 14). In testing it has been established that shield size ranges from a small 10 cm shield to one a meter long by half a meter wide shield.

The Sun bracer employs a null space dimensional displacement drive to store items in fourth dimensional space. Said space can store 280 pounds or 127 kilos of material. An inventory of them has revealed a number of spoiled food items, an average of 3 cestus, 3 cestes and a spare Amazon helmet complete with plume and a spare tunic and sandals. Testing is currently being conducted to adapt this to Starfleet use.

"So. That's the report," Rita Paris explained as Thex sh'Zoarhi finished reading the report on the PaDD. "Now, let's figure out how these things work. Because stable access to stable extradimensional space could revolutionize galactic society as we know it. And these energy constructs they produce are tremendous. So, let's figure out how it's done so that we can accurately catalogue how these seemingly simple devices create sum miraculous technological achievement?"

"So I want you and Sonak to work on it. Hera says the micro circuitry inside the bracers are the key, the power source and control interface. We'll liaise with Hera as well as part of this project- she's the designer, after all. We can call a meeting now and try to get this all logically catalogued and mastered in an afternoon if we're having a good day. So, what do you say?" Leave it to the First Officer of the USS Hera to bring her friend a puzzle, then offer her the most brilliant mind of an age and the advanced technologist who had created the technology in the first place as part of a research team to reverse engineer a fantastic technology for an afternoon's exercise.

The Vulcan chief science officer of the Hera pinched his lips before replying.

''There is something I am obviously missing here. Logically we should not have much work to do. Since Hera is the actual designer, it should not be any problem to ask her to draw the schematics or give us a step by step detail of one for us to write down.''

"True," Paris admitted, unsurprised that the logical chief of the science department would grasp that point immediately. Which in turn directed her course correction, which resulted in a logical reframing of her request and intention. "However, it's still a good exercise in reverse engineering for Science and Engineering to cooperate on a project like this. Since we in essence have the answer, it becomes a question of essentially 'checking your work'. In doing so, I believe it can provide a challenge to both departments and encourage creativity and exploration. Do you agree, or is the exercise a waste of time and resources because the answer is there for the taking?"

Sonak nodded.

''Training and studying are the cornerstones of efficiency and understanding. For that reason alone, the task is worthwhile. And with having indeed the designer to check on our work's validity, the benefits will be immediate.''

Thex was munching on a ration bar as she looked at the info they had on it. Her current condition was making the blue girl eat far more than she usually did. "Well did Hera say if it has the nasty side effect that the armor of Achilles has? " The cheif engineer asked not wanting to find out halfway through that it would use your life force as a power supply if it couldn't access it's main power supply.

"She did not. Part of that independent research- I'd like to know what you find out before we just ask for the answers, and confirm it for ourselves. Think you're up for it?" Paris replied, hoping this was an exercise that would work for all parties involved.

''Affirmative,'' Sonak simply said.

" Okay then. Let's get these under the scanner and see if we can see what's inside. " Thex said as a grin spread over her face as she headed for the industrial scanner in the workshop. It didn't take to long before everything was prepared and Thex touched the control panel to start the machine.

She let out a slight smile as the results came through. The outer shell was an unknown substance that looked like it was artificially made as it had no record in the computer archives. Quickly she jotted down a name to call it. Amazonite.

''As the periodic table of elements is complete, this is logically a synthetic composite,'' Sonak concluded after studying the molecular analysis. '' We should be able to replicate it once we complete the subatomic lattice reconstruction; or if it proves too complex for direct replication, replicate all of it's basic constituants and reassemble them chemically following a schematics remade from this analysis."

" Well, at least we can see inside it. That should help." The blue girl said to the vulcan and her human she considered among her closest friends.

"So is there a microcircuitry board on the inside of it that translates the wearer's will into action, correct? Watch this." Paris held up her PaDD as a sensor log played of Petty Officer Jablonski in her uniform. "Okay, this is keen, yah ready?"

With that Jablonski manifested a cestus in her right hand, which looked like a regular knife in her rather large hands. Tossing it to her left hand, it had not even slapped the palm of her left hand before a phaser rifle filled her right hand. Which also looked like a large firearm in her hand.

"So I can toss the knife to blow a panel or somethin, right? Or I can juggle it back," the enhanced humanoid tossed the sword up in a lazy arc that kept it pointing upward the entire time. Shifting the phaser rifle to her left hand she caught the classic shortsword and it vanished, to be replaced by a dark studded mace. Turning to the camera, Jablonsky did a mock bellow, only faintly echoing the real thing, but bearing up on the camera as if in a hostile manner. After which she backed off, and checked for approval as the mace shifted into subspace and the phaser rifle changed hands.

"Fortunately, she has excellent weapon awareness, and isn't just waving that thing about. Apparently with coordination it's quite... potent. So again, the drive to ask, what is this thing, how do I work this thing, and what fundamental forces of the universe are being lent to this thing. Along with ideally how can we incorporate that technology ourselves. Wow, the Borg really ARE our dark side..." Rita realized in the moment.

''There are but four forces active within our universe, '' Sonak summarized; ''the weakest but most far reaching is gravity, the one acting from and upon masses; but we register no gravitational wave or mass alteration when this item is present or used. All the objects made with it retain the same mass. We can therefore ignore it as far as this item is concerned.''

After showing them the data recorded by the analyzer, he resumed his reasoning.

''The weak nuclear force keeps atoms together. For this item to do what we have seen, rearrange atomic bondings to make itself into different items, it requires a stronger force than itself, to act upon the molecular structure of this... amazonite, obviously made specifically to be reactive at this molecular level to such a force.''

He pointed to data recorded by the apparatus and detailed by the computer.

''Electromagnetism is ten to the thirty-ninth power stronger than gravity and roughly three point six times stronger than the weak force. As it is the one of which psionic power is a part of, and observing how the object behave itself, it is therefore the one the object reacts to, so as to function as we have seen.''

The Vulcan showed them another flat line on the scanner readout.

''The fourth and last one, the strong nuclear force, holds subatomic particles together but does not exert itself outside of the atom; since it is ten thousand times stronger than electromagnetism, it cannot be influenced by any of the others unless massively amplified to the point of disruption. As we do not witness a nuclear explosion each time the object is used, we can discard it as well.''

He then looked at them all with his unblinking grey eyes.

''What we have here is basically a matter converter, much like our transporter and replicator systems; a device rearranging itself on the molecular level, composed of an artificially made reactive matter through electromagnetism, itself modulated to psionic frequencies. Thus, the real puzzle is; where comes the energy required to activate it in this manner? From this fundamental force analysis and our observations, my first hypothesis would be biochemical electricity, as it seems that it requires direct physical contact with a living entity to function.''

His brow furrowed.

''However, if this could conceivably be sufficient to turn it from a brass knuckles to a mace, or possibly a chemically powered weapon like a gunpowder firearm, it would not provide enough energy to turn itself into anything better than a functional but completely discharged phaser.''

Thex was thinking to herself as the Vulcan talked, as her blue eyes looked at the results coming in from the rest of the bracers. "I think I may have an answer for that. You said one of the bracers can store items in fourth-dimensional space. What if it's not just using the space for storage, but for harnessing energy. Then the energy can be used to power the matter converter, shield, and storage." She said as she highlighted a part of the bracelets inner workings that judging by the readings was the transporter to the dimension.

“That would be a valid hypothesis,'' Sonak agreed. ''Since matter and energy are but interchangeable states of atomic composition, as our transporters and replicators amply demonstrate, it is conceivable that storage of energy is as feasible as that of matter; even if only as transformed energy into actual matter, ready to be retransformed again when use requires it. This would indeed solve the problem.''

“All right, so can we map the circuitry and confirm this hypothesis?” Rita pursued. While she was used to being the lowest IQ in the room, she had long ago learned that asking the relevant questions often made her invaluable in such discussions.

" I think we can...." Thex said as she began typing a few things into the computer. A holographic image began to appear next to the scanner as she typed something out. " Ah ha." She said as the circuitry hologram finished being constructed. " There we go. Yeah, it looks like a really small version of the transporter network that drawing power and info from the 4th-dimensional space. There may be more of it inside the fourth-dimensional pocket."

''Indeed,'' agreed the Vulcan. ''Since the 4th dimension is actually time itself, it would mean that the storage is done within the entire time continuum; while not in actuality but still for all intent and purposes, near infinite storage capacity of both matter and energy.''

"Question. Why is it limited in mass- apparently size doesn't factor into the equation, as I've seen Jablonski shunt her entire EVA complement into it and back again. Volume doesn't seem to factor into it, so the limitation is weight- why 127 kilos? How is that pregenerated amount able to function so precisely with this particular..." The lost navigator fumbled for words, her face wringing into a frown. "Design. Where, in this maze of microcuircitry, is the preset that determines that component of the equation?"

For managing to pull it together and arrive at her relevant question actually gave Rita a happy moment.

Sonak thought a brief moment before replying.

''I suspect it may have been designed this way to account for the fact that, after a certain amount of mass, the gravitational energy resulting from said mass would start to disrupt the effect of the other forces use in it's functioning. Gravity is unique among them that it alone amplifies with the quantity of mass present; the more mass, the more gravitational force, up to the point of collapsing upon itself into infinity.''

"So you are proposing that's the reason why the volume of the mass is immaterial, is because it's a measure of gravity... that's absolutely brilliant, Mister Sonak," the feisty First Officer opined. "With that likely solved, how are we going to map the circuitry of the extradimensional space so that we can record it? Throw an active tricorder in there looking for it then yank it out again?"

Pausing, Rita cocked her head to the side slightly. "Wait, would that work?"

" Maybe though I think one of our probes would be a better suited for the job. " Thex said with a grin on her face as she tapped a few buttons to replicate one. The small orange sized orb appeared on the table as the andorian began to type commands into the computer. " Okay, I have her set to record the surrounding space it appears in. You want me to send her in?" asked the sapphire engineer.

"I'll admit, I haven't actually tried one of these myself. All right, take some readings, see if there's a change in my quantum field or something," Rita muttered as she pulled up her sleeves. The bracers were thin enough ans slender enough, she could actually wear them under her uniform if she so desired. However, while she had a few members of the Security team wearing them to test them, she herself had not engaged them yet. Perhaps it was a mistrust of the technology, or perhaps it was not wanting to give in too much to favoritism to the starship's resident goddess.

But now that the moment of truth was at hand, in fairness she could not ask Dox to do it. She had consulted with the testers among her Security Amazons, so if there was risk involved, it was her responsibility. Insuring she had the moon bracer, Paris proceeded to wedge her slender left forearm into the simple bronze armor piece. Once it was on, she rotated it, and it fit surprisingly comfortably. Wedging on the other, she flexed a bit before a round blue 'default' shield sprung to life on her left wrist, which she eyed for a few seconds before successfully dismissing.

Flexing her right forearm, she flicked her wrist slightly as she nearly closed her hand, as if gripping a weapon hilt, and an ancient Grecian bronze shortsword sprang into being. Eyes opening a bit wider, Paris focused on it, flexed and flicked a few more times until the shortsword vanished once more.

"Well... that's surprisingly intuitive," the first officer remarked as she picked up the probe. "Now let's see how easy it is to add something new to... oh." Even as she considered the action, the grenade-sized probe vanished from her hand. "Bit easier than I thought. All right, what's do the initial readings look like and what is our probe reporting... or is it, since it's a bit extradimensional right now? Should I shunt a few things in and out to give it variables to record?"

''The computer has been programmed to take extradimensional variables into account,'' Sonak assured her. ''And since we know the conditions we are probing in, we should be able to interpret the data correctly.''

"Yeah, we're getting info from the prob. Quite a lot of it to be true. It's definitely bigger on the inside," the andorian observed as her eyes were fixed on the data coming from the probe.

“Hmmm… interesting. So a lot of the circuitry and such is on the other side of the extradimensional space… that makes sense. Now my question is, how did they get all of that on the other side of this particular bridge… using the circuitry on this side to literally send it to the other side, at which it begins to draw power? But how would it power the first gate between dimensions?” Thinking out loud, Paris was genuinely fascinated by the technology, and was enjoying the detective work with the scientist and engineer.

Thex let out a slight hum as she pulled another ration bar from her pocket. " Could it be possible that they used a teleporter to open a bridge into the pocket from which they could transport the machinery needed to build the circuitry. "

“How?” Paris asked plainly. “How would they transport into an extradimensional space?”

"They might be opening a microwormhole,'' Sonak hypothesized. ''If the circuitry is quantum based and uses quantum frequencies to access much of it's mechanism located within the extradimensional space itself, they could in the same way harness the energy of a singularity anywhere along the spacetime continuum.''

“And they are doing that with these, or are we now hypothesizing other materials and processes that are involved in the manufacture of these devices?” Rita redirected.

"Maybe in its initial creation..." Thex said looking at the data that was still coming from the probe. This was interesting. "I wonder if it may be simply possible to create a circuit that's in the bracelet and connect it to the already existing machinery. It may be designed to work with multiple bracelets."

"Mmmm, in testing we found each of the bracers seemed attuned to it's own extradimensional space. You can't drop something in there then pull it out with another bracer, so I'm not so sure about that theory, Thex. Not that I have any better ideas, mind you. But I really would like to figure out how this ticks," Rita ran her fingers through her hair, sweeping it out of her face. "Of course, learning how a digital music player works doesn't teach you how to create a recording studio. But some relatively primitive peoples were manufacturing these. So how did they do it?"

''Fabrication is a mechanical process which, beyond its actual starting conception, requires factually little if even no mind at all,'' explained Sonak. ''From cosmological formation to DNA to industrialization and automation, once a process is established, it can even go on by itself. You do not have to know how to actually make a phaser or even the principles behind its workings to assemble it; a mere machine can do it. The same way, a pre-technological primitive could also do it if shown through a ritual for example. I hypothesize this is what happened in this specific case you mention.''

He paused before addressing another question.

''As for the exclusivity factor of each bracelet; you recall our earlier conversation, Commander, about time travel. I would suggest this supports my reflections about the actual effects of altering the spacetime continuum.''

He turned towards Thex.

''I hypothesize that time travel is directly linked to the quantum multiverse theory; each time you move out of your spacetime frame, you alter it and at the same time create a new one. If you move into what you consider your past, it becomes your present and in your new present you create the starting point of a new future; while at your original present, this present is altered by your absence and the future where you should have been is changed by your very absence. In simpler words; when you travel through time, you not only create a new, alternate reality, but at the same time destroys the original one.''

He pointed at the device.

''When a bracer opens a 4th dimensional pocket space, it creates thus it's own bubble of spacetime, connected to the continuum the bracer exists in, but impossible to access by any other, even in the same spacetime frame. The very act of opening creates a specific one each time.''

“That’s… brilliant. Seemingly simple yet a technological feat of science bordering on sorcery. So, now that we grasp… okay, I grasp…” the buxom blonde corrected, as she wasn’t about to speak to Thex’s comprehension, “how it works- assuming your theory is correct, Mr. Sonak, which I am proceeding from that assumption- can we reproduce this technology?”

''In principle, affirmative; we do understand quantum frequencies and spacetime manipulation, at least on the basic level. You and I being here attest to this. But for the actual feasibility of practical applications, more so to the level shown by this specific device, I would defer to my esteemed engineering colleague,'' Sonak said, turning his grey eyes towards Thex.

"With the current level of tech we possess it may be possible, but not onboard this starship. You'd need a lab and computer bank to handle the calculations bigger than the ship. I could ask Hera, to see if she can help us get the process down so it can work on a smaller workable scale." Thex said grimly. To have worked out so much and to have failed at the last hurdle. Still, the engineering core would be looking at the data they had gathered for years.

“Well, the purpose of the exercise was to see what we could reverse engineer the technology, since we have the opportunity to check our work against the designer’s schematics, so to speak. In doing so, we’ve still covered some remarkable ground. If we cannot reproduce the technology, there’s no harm in that. Science is, I am told, often about the discoveries we make along the journey, rather than an end destination,” Paris offered with a smile. “At any rate, thank you both- this was extraordinary work, as per your usual. Please do reach out to Hera, Thex, if you will, and ask for her input, and add it to your report. If either of you would like to continue testing, please let me know and I will insure you have a pair of bracers at your disposal.”

“Now, after a very good and productive meeting, how about we grab some lunch? I’m famished!” the curvaceous commander beamed a cheerful smile at the assemblage of officers.

"You need to ask?" These two are keeping me hungry and they're not even out of their shells yet." Thex said patting her belly slightly.

''I am not yet required to take sustenance; I will therefore meditate on our research until then,'' the Vulcan said with a slight nod. ''So if you will excuse me, please do... indulge yourselves.''

"As you like, Mister Sonak. Let's go put a dent in our ration card, shall we?" Paris obliged as she led the Andorian engineer out of the office. Striding along, the Starfleet siren cocked her head curiously.

"Did you say shells...?"



Many decks above, in VIP quarters #11, the goddess Hera smiled as she shook her head and turned another page of her current read, 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.

"Shakespeare almost had it right. What clever fools these mortals be...."

Thex was whistling to herself slightly as she walked along the guest floor corridor. SHe had a padd under her arm with the information they had gathered from the scans of the bracelets and now she had to ask the questions to how to finish the puzzle. Turning the corner she was slightly surprised to see her own quad mate posing a single solitary guard instead of the usual Amazon ontarauge.

" Hello love what are you doing here." She said walking over and giving her quad mate a slight kiss and a hug.

" Guard duty. The two who were supposed to be here are down in medical. " Thav says as he returned his quadmates greetings.

" Let me guess pregnancies?" Thex asked pretty sure of the answer.

" Yup. Rita getting a few more down here in a few minutes so I'll probably be gone by the time you're done."

" I'll see you later then. " Thex said stepping to the door and answering the security question that allowed her into the room. " Hello, Hera how are you this fine morning." She asked as she stepped into the room.

The matronly goddess looked up from her current bit of light reading and smiled, setting her book aside and standing to greet her friend. "Thex, how are you? You look positively radiant!"

" Oh, I'm just great other than the girls keeping me up at night with the munchies. " the sapphire engineer said patting her belly slightly. " How about yourself?"

Hera grinned wider at the good news. "I've been learning how to sleep regularly to conserve and replenish energy. My new bed is very comfortable. Thank you. May I offer you something to eat? I have some pastries in the kitchen if you'd like some."

" That's good and yes I'd love a pastry. " Thex said as she pulled out the padd. " I was hoping you could help us with something. We've been running some test on the bracelets you gave to Ethel Jablonski and we were hoping you could answer some questions about them."

Hera retrieved a plate of the assorted pastries and handed them off to Thex as she took the PaDD to look it over, her eyebrows raising in interest. "It seems I underestimated Starfleet scientific knowledge and ingenuity just a little. You have my apologies. What is it you need help with?"

" Well, we've worked out quite a bit. We've mapped out the circuitry and how they work. It's recreating them that's the problem. We understand that when a bracer opens a 4th-dimensional pocket space, it creates thus it's own bubble of spacetime, connected to the continuum the bracer exists in, but impossible to access by any other, even in the same spacetime frame. The very act of opening creates a specific one each time. " The sapphire girl explained.

" Now we probably could replicate this with our current tech, but it wouldn't be very practical. Any way of helping us replicate them would be gratefully appreciated."

"If I'm reading this right, the issue is linking the operations interface to the actual generator and dumping the generator into the null space it creates when it's first created, right?" Hera mused for a moment, tapping at the PaDD a bit more. "And that your manufacturing processes aren't nearly as efficient as they could be. My personal devices can store far more than the 127 kilos that the amazonian ones can. Their process was more efficient and that was their upper limit. Yours with these readouts... I would estimate about twenty three kilos before the N space collapses in on itself."

The matronly goddess then tapped out a few formulas to help them along. "That should help with initial charging and creation of the N space. It makes a fairly large pop though, so be sure to stand back."

Thex nodded as she looked at the results on the padd. This could work though she would like to test it on an asteroid before doing it inside the ship. Better safe than sorry. " Yeah, this looks like it will work. I'll need to run some simulations first, but it should work. Thanks, Hera."

"You are very welcome. Just don't tell anyone you got any of that from me, ok? It's a violation of our version of the prime directive." Hera winked conspiratorially.

" I'll keep that in mind. " Thex said as she pocket the padd into her uniform pocket. " I'm sure that tech is going to come in handy. I'm sure the amazons will be happy."

"I'd like to think so," Hera replied. "As much as I miss having my followers, I don't miss the fanaticism that came with them. Every time they created something like this, they prayed and had a small ceremony. It was nice enough, but... I know now that that is not the kind of energy I need to be running on."

" I hope you don't mind me saying, but it almost sounds like you were addicted to the energy it produced. " Thex replied.

The matronly goddess nodded solemnly. "You're probably correct. If you had suggested such to me at the time, I would have turned you into an ice weasel. Now... Well... I just want to help where and how I am able."

" Well, you're doing great and I appreciate not being turned into an ice weasel. I know me and my quad will be forever grateful for the help with these two you've provided even if it is the background you provided," Thex said her hand going over belly again.

"You're very welcome. If there's anything I can do to help, anything at all... You have but to name it." Hera rested one hand gently on Thex's shoulder as she smiled motherly. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

" Nothing I can think off at the moment. Just keep an eye on the girls and tell me if I need to do something to help them." Thex replied. " It's nice to have a motherly figure around. Espicly as my own would have a fit over the child been genetically altered or part anear. Still, I have half a million task to be doing. I'll see you later." The chief engineer said as she headed for the door.

The Chief of Intel for the USS Hera stared at the galactic chart in front of him in the holodeck, as he say in a comfortable chair. In many ways, it was similar to the ship's own astrogation maps of the Milky Way, but, where there were gaps in the Federation version, this one had, almost in a fractal way, information that grew more complex as he zoomed in. Many of the systems had been cataloged by long-range telemetry, but only a few had been reached by UFP probes for detailed scans over the last century. The new information was...immense.

He shook his head, as though to shake off the dust of a billion suns. So much information. And apparently, it was all in his head.

Since his cybernetic reconstruction, he'd been exploring the system controls and resources in the controls for his cybernetics, which had required direct connection to his brain via pretty much all the cortexes in it. While he had only had his leg and arm replaced, the superstructure reinforcement, plus the load-balancing modules that were added to his other limbs, were incredibly-complex, and required a huge amount of processing power to coordinate. This had resulted in the need to speed up his reflexes, which inherently required an improvement in his mental capacities, both in speed, as well as organization.

Cybernetics in the Federation had been an advanced science since its inception, when the charter members pooled their varying knowledge levels of the topic together to try to better the lives of those who would benefit from prosthetic replacements. Even as early as the 2230s, the brain-cybernetic interfaces were advanced enough to not intrude on the external appearance of a humanoid head, while being capable of fully-integrating the recipient's own memories with any additional storage the new systems added.

Generally, new information would be routed through the brain itself, and mirrored across to the computer storage, to ensure no cognitive loss in the event of a hardware malfunction. This was established via ethical protocols developed to avoid any form of mind control by the cybernetic implants, and was a longstanding practice in all Federation research and development organizations.

But lately, Sam had been having...flashes. They started right after the massive mental link established as a way to communicate with the titan Gaia, in order to persuade her to stop terraforming all humanoid life in the galaxy. He'd seen worlds he knew he'd never visited- could clearly recall how it felt to fly through a Class VIII planetary nebula, with the gasses making his skin tingle...

He knew that these were new, because the cyber-interface installation had also, as a consequence, granted him total recall- every memory, from his entire lifetime.

He'd stopped looking once he realized one of the memories was from inside his mother's womb. After that, he just set the system to build a time-indexed catalog of discrete memories, so he could look back at a particular moment, if needed.

These new items were definitely in his brain...but not in the mirroring. They were in an organizational system that was more advanced than anything he'd ever seen, and apparently, was only deciphered by his system recently. They seemed to be holographically stored throughout his brain, in a similar setup to his normal memories, but with a compression method that allowed for not only use of the "unused" parts of his brain, but the use of the areas where his brain already had stored his original memories, in a sort of tessarine spatial arrangement, where they weren't entirely in normal space. As such, while he could see the basic information on a case by case basis, seeing finer details wasn't possible without connecting to an external system with far more memory than his onboard systems had. This also had the effect of making an index of the new information effectively impossible to create- there was simply too much to wrangle. At best, he got random things, as his subconscious instinctively grabbed bits and pieces.

All he could do was route it out to a subsection of the holodeck computer and actually render it there, where he could actually look at it with his eyes.

He wasn't sure what to do with this. And it wasn't something he wanted to talk about with just...anyone.

Mnhei'sahe Dox had saved his life, and he was fond of her- and he'd come to trust her over the time he'd been here, so he called her to the holodeck, to get her opinion on it all.

Having received the call near the end of her shift, Dox saved the files she had been working on. Crew rotations for the helm and flight deck that she oversaw as the Hera's flight control chief. After a few minutes, she messaged the Intel Chief that she was on her way.

The last time the two were in a holodeck together, they had been sparring rather aggressive, and the somewhat drained pilot was, for the first time in a while, hoping it wasn't a call to spar. So the red-headed Romulan woman was pleasantly surprised, if a little confused, to see the massive holographic maps hovering in space around Lieutenant Clemens when she had entered the holodeck.

"Lieutenant Clemens. How can I help you?" The young officer asked, standing with her arms folded behind her back, striking a professional posture.

As Sam leaned back in his easy chair, a bulky cable connected to an interface port on his arm, he gestured upward.

"All that, and more, is in my head. I just discovered it," he began, standing up. "I can't forget anything, because of my cybernetics."

He added, thoughtfully, "I suppose it's also in your head, too. But your brain doesn't have a computer-aided cataloging system for memories. I really don't know what to do about it."

Tilting her head, slightly confused, Dox cocked an eyebrow as she replied. Her posture relaxing somewhat around the generally genial gentleman. "Aside from the obvious, what is it, Sam? Why is it in your head... And... Wait... why would it be in mine?"

The elusive engineer leaned against the chair, one deadpanned, "Because it was in Gaia's head. And so were all of us. And vice versa."

"It ain't like regular memories. As far as I can tell, it's encoded multi-dimensionally, like a hologram. And it's just one of 'em. Every memory, from everyone in the meld, is in everyone in the meld."

At the mention of the name of the Titan, Gaia, Dox's olive skin went flush. "G... Gaia?"

It had been months since the one-open doorway in the young Romulan's mind had made her the conduit for a group mind meld between her fellow crewmates and the cosmic entity, but the memory was still a difficult one for her to reconcile. "Maybe you kept all this... but... no. She didn't leave me anything, Sam. She took it all when she left me."

There was a slight tremble in Dox's voice as she spoke.

"Aw, Dox- no one but me can even access this stuff, I think. And it's not herself- just the things she's experienced. I only noticed it because I was getting flashes of memories I knew weren't mine. So I had the computer in my head go looking for them, and found way more than I could have ever experienced. Anything I could ID as someone else's, I flagged and blocked, except for Gaia's, because...well, just look at the detail on that map." He paused, hoping he was reassuring her. "I don't think that, by the time she left, she had any further ill will toward humanoids. Especially you, since she knew what you were risking, and what your fears were about it."

"No... I know she didn't. I could feel it through our bond. From... from when I was joined with the shard." Dox was physically withdrawn as she remembered the experience and it was visibly noticeable. "Just that piece of her being a part of me for a few minutes. It's... well... It's impossible to describe with words. But I can't."

The anxious Romulan began rubbing an ear, a nervous tic held over from her early childhood when her ears had been surgically altered against her will. "When she left, she closed that door in my mind. It closed me off. I can't... I don't know how I can help you."

Sam walked over to his friend, squared off with her, and put his hands on her shoulders. "You're one of the only other people on the ship that's gone through the level of changes I've gone through. I trust your judgment. We've all seen some serious shit- and you're one of the ones I'd trust to help me figure out what to do about this," he looked at her solemnly.

"Pa always did tell me to bring along solutions to any problems I brought him. I think that'll serve us well, here, too."

Looking past the ginger Intel Chief to the projection if what's inside his brain, Dox thought for a long moment before meeting his surprisingly warm eyes. "Obviously, you've can't just download it to the ships computer and delete it. You wouldn't need advice for that. And I guess I should apologize for all of my shit being up there, too."

As she spoke, she poked Sam's forehead with a smirk. "Enjoy cursing in Rihan on duty when you forget yourself." Then she began to pace, a behavior Sam recognized as just how she thought through problems.

"When the door in my mind was open, Hera told me it was... un-closeable. Even now, with Gaia having re-shut it, almost anything could re-open it. Because of that, I had to start doing the hardest thing I ever had to do. I had to learn to live with it. Control it."

"When I touched people, I could see the colors of their spirits. You're a weird one, by the way. Bright green, with orange sparks. That was... hard to not see. But there were exercises. Mental training. I have no idea if it would help... but we can try." Dox asked.

In a strange way, she seemed almost unusually relaxed. "Asa was right. You've been trying to muscle through the changes you've endured. I know all about how much that doesn't work, first hand. You said you had my memories stored in your head, right?"

The ginger gentry nodded, "Yep, I do. I told the computer to index all non-native memories, first by person, then by time index."

"Okay..." Dox thought about it a second. "I'd feel a lot more comfortable poking around in your brain with Asa here. If you've got my memories in there, then... I..."

There was the briefest moment of hesitance from the emotionally damaged young Romulan before she nodded slightly and continued. "I am giving you my permission to access them. Do that... and think about Asa. What they mean to me. How they put me back together, body and mind. Asa can help us... help you. Are you good with my calling them?"

The half-man, all Intel officer nodded. "It's actually kinda weird, how our paths ran so parallel, even though the events take different forms...Asa and the EMH not only saved my life, they did so because they cared...no matter how odd the EMH might choose to express it, sometimes. I think I'd like Asa's help- and the EMH's, if you y'all think he could help from an AI standpoint. This thing's got so many pieces to it- from mental to spiritual to hardware to wetware..." The Forcefielded Man looked a bit distressed, and added, "I feel like I've been given the Preserver Archives. I can't imagine the loss to the galaxy, if we don't find some way of archiving them somewhere safe." He chuckled..."And darlin', I ain't safe."

While Clemens' original accent was missing, the turns of phrase he grew up with still remained, leaving a new hybrid speech pattern in its place. He appeared to notice this, at the end of the statement, and worked his mouth, as though he'd just gotten new teeth.

"Excellent." Dox said as she tapped her Comm badge and called for the ships Chief Medical Officer, and if available, the EMH for good measure, doing her best to summarize the situation and let them know what was going on. After just a few minutes, the holodeck doors wooshed open as Asa Dael stepped it, ready for business.

“Greetings folks,” Asa said, adjusting the strap of their med-bag as they walked into the room. “Well, I’m not sensing any extra-dimensional beings and no one is about to have their head burst open. So far, this is an excellent trip to the holodeck. Sam, you had plenty of rest? This isn’t an endeavor to undertake tired….”

The Missourian Meddler grinned. "Oh, Myx Asa- I'm feeling fine- just...overwhelmed by what's apparently tucked into my brain. My cybernetics are managing it, and, in fact, seem to be the only reason I'm even aware of it. If my theory is right, everyone who participated in the meld has a copy of it, too, but it's not stored where they are- it's folded through tessarine links to otherspace of some sort. I've just got the hardware to access it, though making sense of it is way beyond my augmentations."

He added, with a warm smile,"It's good to see you, by the by. I've been trying to figure out how to get this stuff ported to a safe place, before the Tribunal."

“Good to see you too, you scoundrel,” Asa replied with a wink. “Safe is good….not taxing your memory reserves is good too. Even cybernetics have a max, and from what you are saying, you might be nearing yours. You augmentations weren’t meant to host a freaking Titan after all. So, were you thinking uploading to a secure data bank somewhere off-ship?”

"Is there any data bank more secure than the Hera and Maru? Dox interjected. "If.you can get it downloaded and dumped, I'll do what I can to show you some of the mental training techniques Sonak has been teaching me. It may help you deal with all the information overload better to strengthen you mental defenses."

“Wait….” Asa said, “You have all our personal memories in there?” Then muttering to themself they said, “Greeeeaaat. Now more people know about the not-so-glorious hijinx of dormitory 3…..Just what Starfleet Medical never wanted……”

As if realizing the last bit was out loud, Asa turned beet red and cleared their throat.

“Um, sorry about that. Uh, forget I said anything. Just some…..youthful transgressions…..that would be best left in the past…Or else Professor Eaglestone’s dog may track me down and use her increased vocabulary and abilities to chew me out….So, I’m curious, were you thinking about using the Holodeck to visualize how the memories are stored? A mind palace type thing?”

Sam considered the idea. "Well, it'd be a good place to start. We're going to have to do this in phases. Pause indexing. Start with the indexing we have built up, and copy all the information it links to, to the long-term storage. Deactivate the current index, then build the next one, rinse, and repeat. We can use the holodeck to visualize it as we go. In fact, someone with a tricorder could record it all as it comes through, to make a sort of visual index, so it could be accessed via a sort of kiosk." He looked at his friends and fellow officers. "Does that sound like a safe way to proceed?"

"Aye, it does to me," Asa said, tapping their chin in thought, "I can monitor your vitals and we can go at a speed that is safe that way. I guess start with the framework....do the memories feel more grouped by time, location, person, or some other factor?"

The mustachioed merchant of mayhem gave it some thought.

"Y'know... I really think it's random access. I mean, a full experience per memory, yes, but they don't seem to come in a sequence, although the index can at least timestamp them...and maybe...maaaaybe, location-stamp them- that's uncertain."

"At least we can make good use of my sleep time. The transfers ought to proceed without a hitch while I'm resting and awake, as a background task. Good thing we're not in the days of cabling and boring holes in skulls, eh, Doc?"

Asa shuddered at the thought. "May the universe will it that the days of trepanation never come again."

"Give me time, Asa. Sooner or later I'll almost die in some ridiculous way that you'll have to drill in my skull. You're running out of normal ways to save my life." Dox joked, with a bit of an awkward grin.

"But, in all seriousness. This information... the data from Gaia... Is it something we should have?" Dox asked with a raised eyebrow.

Sam stared at Dox like she'd grown two heads.

"…"

His mouth worked for a moment, then stopped. He pursued his lips, collected himself, and tried again.

"…to boldly go?"

The anxious aviatrix pursed her lips slightly as she thought about it, but she didn't think long. "Starfleet didn't boldly get our here... get where we are now... because your people found warp drive left behind by someone. Whatever that data is... Your brain just made a copy if it. We didn't discover it through exploration. We didn't earn it."

"Sam..." Dox said, with reservation. "All of this happened because I plugged myself into something I didn't understand trying to reach further than I was ready to. It opened up my mind, woke up Gaia, almost killed Ila and billions more. Because, arguably, I tried to boldly go... too far and too fast."

"Look, I'm not saying that I know what to do." Dox continued, "But we need to consider the implications and ramifications before we decide what's best. Saving it all because... we can... might be dangerous in ways we can't imagine. To the ship, to the galaxy, and toyou.

"When I used that experimental helmet, it opened my mind to attack. It ATTRACTED hostile entities right into my brain. What is you having THIS much information going to attract?" Dox concluded, her expression one of concern.

Sam pursed his lips. "I'm not broadcasting it. Hell, it wasn't even visible to me until I literally went looking for what it was. And I wouldn't have seen it to begin with if my implants weren't running an active security check." He paused, and looked at her seriously. "Getting this stuff to a safe place and cataloging it is the only way I know of to figure out how to remove it, for all of us, without having to involve other beings like Gaia. And, in the meantime, we all need to avoid any mental contact with anyone outside the meld group. Every one of us had contact with all of this, even if it didn't stick- that's a trace that others might see."

His expression was one of resignation, at this point. "We're stuck with this stuff until we figure out a way to clear those linkages out of our heads. But my gut tells me that the key to doing that safely and securely is in that data. In the meantime, we've got to get it visible to us, so we can start searching it."

"Please help me, guys."

Feeling a bit guilty for her speech, Dox nodded with her familiar, awkward smile. "I'm sorry, Sam. Worrying about what we do with it when it's out of your head is the next step. Of course we're going to help in any way we can."

Nodding their head in agreement, Asa smiled and gave Sam a silent thumbs up.

Looking up at the holographic projections of star maps surrounding them, Dox pondered for a second. "So, all of this is from the data in your head? Your cybernetic links allow you to project it directly using the holodeck?"

Sam nodded, explaining, as his schematic popped up off to the side for his friends to see.

"See, my heads up display and control system is holographic, primarily, though I can manually access all systems by internal ocular implants, a control panel inside my right arm, and even via cable, if the panel, holographics, and ocular systems are down." As he spoke, he highlighted each system.

"Good things for you guys to know, I suppose, since Asa will be someone who'll need to work on me if I get damaged badly. I'm still figuring out the Maureen Protocols. Apparently, she's designed to handle my repair and defensive systems, especially if I'm incapacitated. I got her details from the Commodore after the stroke incident. The reason it's an AI system is to protect and firewall against active hacking attempts on all of my systems. Apparently, her personality is...matronly."

"Okay... So, I'm not going to be helpful much at all regarding the technical side of any of this. But as I understand it, you've got too much information in your brain and you need to identify it to save it out of your head. But it's a jumble. Your cybernetics are indexing it but you need your meat brain to fire out how to navigate it all? Control the flow of information for yourself?" Dox asked, her eyebrow raised.

"It's more like the index that's being generated is becoming so massive as this stuff un-crunches, that I'm running out of space. So I need to pause the indexing, copy the current index and the information it's linked to, to wherever we're going to store it, then wipe the current index and the links it refers to, then do it all again, until it's all out and safe. Because it's stored so randomly, there'll be no figuring it all out without a searchable index." As he spoke, he illustrated on the holoprojection with animated graphics, drawn in pages with panels, showing the process being done by what looked like...elves.

Looking at the whimsical projection with a cricked head, Dox commented. "So, priority one is to pause the indexing. Stop the files from expanding so it doesn't all burn out your brain. Then, the Captain and Commander need to know about this data. And Ila might be the expert here when it comes to cyberbrains. But if you can pause this... keep it from continuing, with the Tribunal in a couple of days, the ship's resources, along with the Captain's attention will be extremely taxed. I can update Commander Paris of the situation and let her know that it's in a holding pattern, at least, for now."

Dox looked at Asa with a serious expression, then back to Sam. "We're definitely going to need more help."

After thinking things over for a moment, Asa input some information into a PaDD and looked up at Sam before continuing to speak.

"Um, the easiest way to stop any flow of information from your brain and reset it, so to speak, is to knock you unconscious. Once you are asleep, your mind can process and clear the data from overwhelming you. Plus, this is likely going to be an exhausting process. I'm proposing we ask Lieutenant Sonak to form a meld between the three of us, four if Dox would like to join. That way he can help guide your thoughts, I can monitor your vitals, and Dox can give thoughts of encouragement. Plus by increasing the meat-space, so to speak, you might be able to get through more at once. What do you think?"

Sam looked puzzled for a moment, and queried, "I can stop the indexing indefinitely without a problem. The gathered index is fine where it's at- my only worry was that the entire thing- or even a tenth of it, is way more than my storage has available. I just need a safe external location to offload it to so I can clear the current files and the embedded extra-dimensional pointers they're referencing, so I can get moving on the next batch. Don't think a mind meld would help out with that, though Sonak's computer expertise would certainly be of a help in expediting the transfer speeds, data isolation, and storage efficiency in whatever our target system is. And honestly, at the moment, the data is fine where it's at. We've got bigger fish to fry with the Tribunal, don't we?"

"Provided you don't go challenging another Q or arm-wrestling any gods during the Tribunal, that sounds like the best plan we have at the moment," Asa said half-joking, still clearly concerned about both Sam and the information he was shepherding.

"Well, it's all important. But we need all of our resources available to tackle this right." Dox added, looking back at Asa. "When we're done here, I can go appraise Commander Paris of the situation and that it's currently stable."

"...as stable as having hyperlinks to god-memory storage in your head makes you...." intoned Clemens seriously- for a millisecond. Then he cracked up, shaking said head. "Seriously- my noggin is the least of my worries. I have to go talk with Hera. For the first time."

It had been decided to try and wait to deal with the massive amount of cosmic knowledge that was being indexed from the Titan Gaia that was now in the cybernetic parts of Lieutenant Samuel Clemens' brain. The affable Intel Chief had asked Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox for assistance in figuring out what to do, but Dox knew that the problem, on many levels, was beyond her. And with the Captain's Tribunal just days away, the situation would have to be dealt with later.

The download of information had been paused, and Sam had assured Dox and Doctor Asa Dael that his brain was stable. But the anxious Romulan pilot didn't buy it. He asked her for help first, knowing full well that she had neither the authority to make command decisions regarding the data OR the technical knowledge to assist with the computer brain aspect of the problem.

So as the ginger cyborg left the holodeck where the three had met and Doctor Dael had left to return to sickbay, Dox stood in the doorway thinking. Sam said he was fine, but Dox knew better. She had called herself 'fine' far too many times when she was secretly falling apart. And she suspected that that might be exactly why Sam had called her first. The two officers had more in common then one might think on the surface and Dox was familiar enough with her own demons to recognize Sam's at work in his head. So she followed behind him.

Walking with her hands folded behind her back at the martial stride she had picked up from Commander Rita Paris, she quickly caught up with the Gray-clad Intelligence officer. But in the open corridors of the Hera where anyone could walk by, she suspected that he might not want to talk openly. But as the Chief Flight Control Officer of the Hera, she had her own resources. "Lieutenant Clemens. The wreckage of my personal craft in Shuttlebay 2 has been removed from quarantine after the investigation into my assassination attempt. Since your department was responsible for cataloging my personal items in the investigation, I was hoping you could assist me in going through some of them. Would that be okay?"

It was an obviously leading question as the ship was isolated and he knew it.

The goal-oriented ginger matched her pace, and looked left at her as he continued to walk toward the turboshaft.

"That'd be just fine, Miss Dox. I know it's rough getting your personal stuff rifled through to figure out if it's going to try to bite off your hand. If you're free right now, let's go to the bay and look it all over."

"Excellent. Thank you." Dox exclaimed plainly as the pair took the lift to Deck 22 and walked to the largely empty Shuttlebay. There was a single officer on duty at the control console who nodded at the Flight Chief as they entered. It was after regular shift and it was almost as quiet in the hangar as it was the night of the assassination attempt that had left a young officer dead and Dox herself very nearly the same.

In the far corner of the bay was the remains of Dox's personal craft, the Khallianen. While the body was largely intact, the nacelles and all functional components had been dismantled in the security sweep, to ensure that there were no more assassin droids or other surprises in the cargo or parts. Dox sighed slightly at the leftover pieces of the ship that had been gifted her when she accepted her position as one of the Captain's Baronesses in the Artan Pirate Family.

Without saying much of anything, she gestured to the officer on duty with her eyes to leave and she stepped inside the twisted metal hatchway of the Khallianen, still damaged from the attack. "She's seen better days, but I'll put her back together eventually."

Turning from just inside the small j-type freighter, Dox looked at Sam who was behind her.

Sam was looking sadly at the pieces of the external pods and the guts of the ship that were tagged and bagged, but left strewn all over the place. His face hardened a bit at just what a mess it represented.

"There's no reason to leave her in this state. If they had the tools to take 'er apart, they had the tools to reassemble her."

He was glowering by now, like a slow fuse had been lit, somewhere. "It's an insult to you, to Paulson, and to the ship itself at large, to add more damage to the situation."

He walked about the internal organs of the pretty little ship, clearly scanning everything in a way that suggested he was documenting it via his built-in tricorder-like systems.

He glanced back at Dox, adding, "I'll have this all scanned for you in a few minutes, Dox- then we can get this organized and account for anything missing and put together a damage assessment." He was pretty visibly trying to control his temper, as every item that had been savaged, some irreparably, was pissing him off a little more as he went. "We're gonna need all hands on deck for this upcoming cluster- and that includes your girl, here. We'll get Khallie back together in time for the fireworks." He patted the hull affectionately, the anger past, as he made the ship and her owner a promise.

Smiling that awkward looking half-grin she was known for, Dox walked past the boxes of personal effects to the two rows of benches along the starboard and port bulkheads near the rear and flumped somewhat casually on one. "I appreciate the offer, Sam. But I'm looking forward to working on her myself and besides, she's not the primary thing that I'm worried about putting back together right now."

Tilting an eyebrow at the ginger intelligence officer, Dox gestured to the bench across from her. "Right now, I'm more worried about how you're handling all of what's happening with yourself. It may not be a direct comparison, but as someone who's been broken and put back together, body and mind, I know there's nothing easy about it. And, as someone who knows a lot about keeping those feelings to herself, I can recognize it when I see you doing it. Soooo, how are you holding up?"

The Southern boy with the bland accent shrugged. "I've gotta lotta work to do, and a short time to get it done. I've got non-conventional warfare plans for when the shit actually hits the fan after the Tribunal, because we know that when we win, Queen Bee isn't gonna just let it ride. The stuff in my head is in a holding pattern until after the dust settles, and I've been looking through the fractional index my systems compiled before I stopped the process for anything that might be of use to us during the conflict. I'm getting rest- AND sleep, like Doc wanted, and no bad dreams. Weird ones, sure, but with that catalog up here," he tapped his noggin, "that's really no surprise. Everyone keeps asking me how I'm holding up, being half-machine, and I'm choosing to look on the bright side- I'm never gonna have to worry about diseases, or stuff going bad, as happens over time. I look normal, I'm myself, and I have my friends."

He added, with a genuine grin, "If I'd had that stroke without either my friends (that means you, Mnhae'sahe, by the way) or my cybernetics, I'd have lost a damn sight more than my accent (and the pain in the ass I know it's always caused)."

Chucking slightly at the self-effacing joke, Dox had a bit of a grin. "Well, we ask because we care, Sam. I used to have this nervous tic for years when I was nervous. I rubbed the top of my ears like this."

Taking one hand, the red-headed Romulan ran a finger over the point of her left ear. "I didn't know why. I didn't consciously remember the surgery, but my brain knew something was missing. On some level I knew my ears had been cropped. The point being is that you lost a lot more than the tips of your ears."

Sitting further forward, Dox leaned on her knees. "A positive outlook is great. Personally, I'm terrible at that so you've got that. But you've been through some tremendous trauma and it's in there. And because I am your friend, I'm going to keep checking because I know first hand that this kind of stuff can hide for a while and hit you in ways you're not always prepared for. Phantom pains. Anxiety you can't explain. So, just know if you ever need to talk about it. About anything... You've got two pointy ears ready, okay?"

"Aw, hon. Thank you." Sam's eyes were a little misty, as he knew she was being earnest. "I hope ya know that it goes both ways. I got sliced and diced, but it wasn't by those who were caring for me. I was just blindingly-angry at that prissy weasel for cheating me out of the win." He sat back, shaking his head at it. "I know that sounds nuts, but ever since I was a kid, it drove me into a positive rage whenever someone cheated me out of something I'd earned."

Sam leaned his chin on his fist, and leaned forward, whispering, "I promise I'll letcha know if I need a hug. But I'm a lot better than I was, even before the fight. I'm guessing it's because I had over a year in my own head, manning the steam engine room of a riverboat to get it all worked out. I kinda wish you guys could have seen her."

"A riverboat? That's a story I think I'd like to hear someday." Dox smiled a bit more broadly. "But for now, we both have places to be. So just remember. Anytime."

The red-headed Romulan was sincere in her offer. When she arrived, Rita Paris was there to help her learn how to open up and she could do no less for the ginger Intel Chief as he nodded and flashed that genial smile he was known for as the pair of Lieutenants went their separate ways for the evening.

In the morning, the long-awaited tribunal of Captain Enalia Telvan would begin for real. The overtures were complete and the investigation teams were on their way back to meet up with the U.S.S. Hera within a few hours.

There was nothing to do but wait for the morning to come and face whatever fate had in store for the members of the crew that would be participating in the ceremony. But for one such member, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox, waiting was something she was absolutely terrible at. So as her shift ended, she made her way to Shuttlebay two to try and tinker with the remains of her Artan pirate ship, the Khallianen.

The Khallianen rest in pieces in the corner of the shuttle bay. Damaged in a failed assassination attempt on the young Baronesses life and later dismantled to search for clues and ensure there were no other assassin droids hidden in the ship by the Hera's investigation teams.

But those investigators didn't put back together what they had dismantled, leaving it to the young Romulan pilot to deal with. So, she found herself buried underneath the dismantled flight console trying to wire the ship's computer back into place in order to occupy her conflicted mind ahead of the tribunal. And she wasn't doing a particularly great job of it.

Her crimson uniform top was folded up on the side the console and she was wearing a tight black tank top and her uniform pants as she worked.

"Imirrhlhhse!!!" She shouted, cursing in her native Rihan tongue as she sat up, tossing a circuit spanner across the dismantled deck of her formal personal craft.

As the spanner slid across the deck and onto the shuttlebay floor, Mona picked it up as she was approaching the dismantled shuttle. She was wearing a pair of her overalls with the yellow chicks scattered across the front that she sometimes wore when she was off duty working on her own projects. "Knock knock... May I come in?"

Sitting up, Dox looked towards the twisted metal of the ship's hatch that was heavily damaged in the attack at her bond-mate, Mona. "Uh... yes. Yes, of course."

The brightly plumed Miradonian stepped into the remains of the personal craft and looked around. "It doesn't look as bad as I thought it would. From the rumors, I thought the investigation teams had pulled apart the deck plating and everything as well. I wish I could have seen her in one piece though."

"I think the deck plates are the only thing they put back." As she spoke, Dox kicked one of the plates and it rattled. "They're all still just basically laid here. They didn't secure them back or anything."

But the anxious young Romulan pilot was dodging responding to her partner's real statement. In the months that the Khallianen had been on the ship in which the pair had been a couple, Mnhei'sahe had never brought Mona to see the small ship. But she knew better than to try and duck Mona Gonadie.

"Yeah... well. It was never all that exceptional..." Dox tried to change the subject until she looked into Mona's deep, Amber eyes. "I'm... sorry I never brought you here."

Having a pretty good idea why, Mona slowly sat down on the deck, not close enough to touch, but obviously not going anywhere. "Why didn't you?" she asked softly, letting that simple question hang in the air as her bond-mate came up with an answer.

Pausing silently, Dox scooched to sit up more and folded her arms across her raised knees, running her hand through her disheveled red trusses. "I... I don't know. I just... I never..."

But as the anxious young officer spoke, she sighed and hung her head just a little. "I... This was 'Baroness' Dox's ship. I shouldn't even have had it to begin with. All it's done is..." But Dox trailed off as she spoke.

"It gives you something that was yours that you could work on in your free time. The Captain approved and supported it and so do I." Mona paused for a moment. "So... If you didn't feel you deserved it in the first place, why did you accept it?"

Sitting for a long moment in silence, Mnhei'sahe chuckled under her breath. It was gravely and slightly hoarse. "I thought it was all I did deserve. I thought... once you all figured out that I wasn't meant for Starfleet, it would be all I had. When the Captain came to me and told me she had known my Mother and asked me to be a Baroness, I thought..."

While she spoke, Mnhei'sahe's eyes stayed low, on the deck plates. Anywhere but up to meet the eyes of the woman she loved. She was too ashamed of her thoughts in the moment. "I figured that was the only reason I was on the Hera. I figured it was only a matter of time before I would be pulled back into that world. I figured it was all I deserved."

"She asked me to be a Baroness a week after I learned my real name. Learned what had been down to me. I... Didn't trust anything about myself. But... After a while, Rita helped me. And Asa and Sonak... and then I started hoping you might... I was just starting to try and tell you how I felt." Dox's voice started cracking slightly as she recounted the events that had led her here.

"Then I got the ship. And it was this... this massive reminder of that other life. Just when I thought that I MIGHT really have a home on the Hera, I was reminded who I really was. And this ship took me there." Dox sunk her head between her knees.

"To Mars," Mona said softly. "You didn't want me to see that side of you, did you?" She wasn't trying to scold her lover or be harsh. She just wanted her to realize that she was being unjustly cruel to herself and in so doing was doing her bond-made a disservice in the process.

"See?" Mnhei'sahe sat up straighter as she stiffened up. After a second, she closed her eyes and sighed slightly. "You've... you saw it? Through our bond? You saw what I did to those men? The ones that hurt Asa?"

Mona nodded solemnly, confirming that she had. "I can't say that I would have done the same... But I'm still here, aren't I? I love you with all my being, Minay. And I tend to avoid conflict, which is why I waited so long to bring this up. I was afraid it might drive you away. With the Tribunal though... I'm afraid I might lose you and having not settled this is more frightening to me." Mona twiddled her thumbs a bit - a nervous habit that she'd never really displayed before on the Hera but she'd had when she was a chick.

Nervous habits were something Dox herself knew all about as she picked up on the fidgeting. "I'm... scared too. I don't know what going to happen. I don't know what I might need to do before this is all over. I don't know what... I can live with anymore. I've done... too many things I've tried to forget about or move past. Having something to move towards has been... everything to me."

Looking back up, finally meeting Mona's eyes with her own, Mnhei'sahe's we're swollen and thick as she held back tears. "All I want is to put that life behind me. But it won't go away... and I don't want to lose you because of it. I can't. I'm... I'm so sorry I've been so afraid."

"You won't lose me tonight, so can we at least be afraid together?" Mona asked, holding her arms out.

Hesitating for only a second, Mnhei'sahe looked up as tears escaped her. Scootching across the deck plates, she fell hard into Mona's arms. "You... you deserve so m... much better than this. Than me. I don't want to ruin you. I don't want... what I am to ruin you."

The brightly plumed Miradonian clung to her lover as if she was afraid she was going to slip away, the tears falling from her own eyes now as well. "That's not how it works. Not how it works at all. You make me a better person and I try to help you be the best you that you can be. We have since we met and we will until we return to the moon."

In that moment, the weakening of their psychic bond had never felt more painful for Mnhei'sahe. As she clung to Mona, all she wanted was to feel that radiance she had once been lost in. She wanted to feel enveloped by the glow of Mona's light again. But in spite of her efforts to strengthen her mind back up, she could only feel the slightest bit of Mona's light.

Clutching Mona even tighter, Mnhei'sahe began to sob thick, ugly tears. I... I'm .. I'm so sorry. I should have been better. I should be better."

Mona was full on ugly crying as well. "That's why we're here. To learn and grow. We'll be better together. And we can rebuild the K... together better than before."

Looking up, Mnhei'sahe wiped away a tear from Mona's cheek and shook her head as she pursed her lips. "You're already so perfect. Do you even know how perfect you are?"

"Less perfect than you are. The way you eat, the way you sleep, the way you brush your teeth and hair... You're so enchanting." Mona definitely lived with rose tinted glasses on when it came to Dox, but she loved it.

"The way I brush my teeth? You're crazy. You really are." Dox chuckled, setting her head on Mona's shoulder and gently rocked in place, looking around at the remains of the ship around them.

"I promise. No more hiding here." Dox replied, sniffing slightly. "I promise to try harder. No matter how scared I am... I'll let you in."

Gesturing with her head to the ship, Dox let a smile crack out. "Besides, The Khallianen's not just mine anymore anyway. It's as much yours as it is mine now. And... I don't know. 'Khallianen' means 'seeker' or searcher' in Rihan. But I called her that because I was still trying to find out who I was. Maybe she needs a new name now. A better name for when we put her back together. What do you think?"

Mona smiled softly. "I think that's a wonderful idea. We can find the name as we rebuild her. Together." Then she kissed her lover on the nose. "I hate to spring more stress on you but... How about we finally have that ceremony after the tribunal?"

Chucking at how quickly Mona often shifted gears to the positive, Mnhei'sahe smiled broadly this time. "I wish I knew how you do it. How you look out past every obstacle and damage and see the future you want. It's really something special, I hope you know."

As she held her bond-mate, Mnhei'sahe nodded softly. "But, yes. We've done the technical, legal stuff. So it seems all we have left to do is make it official for ourselves and our family. And it certainly doesn't hurt to have something else to focus on with the Tribunal. Something special to work for."

As she spoke, Mnhei'sahe's heart sank then swelled for a moment. "And... with everything else that's supposed to happen... the sooner the better. So... everyone can be there."

Mona nodded solemnly. "Plus you'll get to meet my foster family. They're visiting Trill and..." She had to take a deep breath before pouring the rest of her words out in a rush. "They found me, called, and I told them about you, and insisted on being invited, and will be here the day after the tribunal..."

Smiling broadly, Dox scooched up so she could sit and see Mona as she replied, more excitedly then she would have thought. "Mona, that's wonderful! I can't wait to... wait a minute?"

Stopping mid-sentence, Dox smirked inquisitively and cricked her neck as she continued "They insisted on being invited to the ceremony we just now agreed to have after the tribunal? Okay... how far have you planned this, specifically?"

"Well..." Mona just sighed and pulled out a small PaDD from her pocket, handing it over to her Minay. "I wrote down a lot of ideas I wanted to talk with you about. As in like enough for three weddings... A few of them involved this ship and the Thunderchicken..."

Looking at the PaDD, Mnhei'sahe scrolled through the lists, ideas, visual aid, pictures, and multiple planned timelines as her eyes went wider. "For someone who comes from a culture that doesn't really do 'bonding ceremonies', you certainly have embraced the concept and ran with it." Dox chuckled as she talked in her usual, raspy fashion. "Are these dress patterns?"

A bit embarrassed now, Mona nodded. "Sixteen of them. Three of them are partially holographic. Just in case we need enough for us and some others. I designed a holographic cathedral with Miradon's two moons and the Romulan Phoenix, as well."

For the first time in their conversation, Dox said. "No." But it was said softly, with a warm smile as she shook her head a bit. "No holograms. Nothing that won't be real to those beautiful eyes."

As she spoke, she brought her fingers up and gently touched the bridge of Mona's nose. "This is as much for us as it will be for the others. The Hera is the only cathedral I'll need."

Mona smiled softly, happy tears coming from her eyes now as she nodded.

As she looked down at the PaDD, Mnhei'sahe smiled again. "There is one thing that I will need, though."

"What's that?" Mona asked softly.

"I need... a single feather." Mnhei'sahe asked gently as she ran a hand over her bond-mate's brilliant plumage.

The brightly plumed Miradonian blushed, the fine feathers on her face turning yellow as she turned to look behind her for a nice, pretty, large feather from her tail feather cluster. She found one and pulled it out with a small squeak before handing it to her bond-mate.

Smiling at how impossibly cute that was, Mnhei'sahe stroked the feather gently, marveling at the stunning array of colors that seemed to almost shimmer in her fingers. It gradated from a brilliant magenta to a rich teal to a bright lavender and to the young Romulan woman, it was the softest thing she had ever touched every time she touched Mona.

"Thank you, Jhu Dhael." Mnhei'sahe replied, her eyes tearing up again as she smiled, specifically not saying why she needed a feather as she nuzzled up next to her love. "Thank you for everything. Thank you for seeing through every foolish wall I put up. Thank you for believing that I can be more. You make me want to be "

"You are very welcome, my Minay," Mona replied, snuggling tenderly with her lover, then pointing out the menu items. "So I was thinking full-on vegetarian tapas with some fried tofu dishes. What do you think?"

Chucking at how quickly Mona course corrected back to the subject of a wedding, Mnhei'sahe smiled and nodded. "That sounds good and takes more of the crew's diets into account. I know it's not strictly vegetarian, but we need to put your Deviled eggs on there."

"Soooo... these are very elaborate plans, Mona. Who else knows about all of this or has this been a top secret agenda?"

"Super top secret," Mona replied with a soft chuckle, snuggling tighter and thrumming softly. "You're the first to see them. I wanted you to be the first."

When Mona's thrumming began, Mnhei'sahe shut her eyes. The rhythmic vibration she generated went deeper than the young Romulan's bones and enhanced their empathic connection. "That's good. I knew you couldn't have told Asa. They would be shaking through the bulkhead between our quarters trying to keep it a secret."

Sighing contentedly, Mnhei'sahe looked at the PaDD as the unlikely couple continued to scroll through Mona's many, many plans for a wedding.

And while the morning would bring the Captain's tribunal, tonight it was enough to be in each other's arms and plan for a future neither had believed was possible not too long before.

This was it - the day of the actual Tribunal had arrived and the opening ceremony had begun. The Trial halls had been prepared, and arranged so that each Baroness could bring up to three crew with her. Each of the Royal family could bring up to nine crew, as per the laws by which they all abided. As for Captain Magnus, he was allowed four; as he presided over the proceedings, as hopefully an impartial party.

The holographic maids were in top form today- ushering the groups to their respective dressing rooms to prepare for entry into the trial halls. They had been remodeled from their normal knee-high black and white maid outfit and cat ears and tails, to something more akin to an ankle length warrior maid outfit. They also carried sabers, though it was unclear if they were programmed in how to use them or not. Either way, it was the only type of weapon allowed on the floor of the Trial hall and this was a constant reminder of it.

As Captain Telvan arrived with her group, she was shown to one of the two Royal family dressing rooms, where they could freshen up before being introduced to the assembly. The maid that escorted them bowed politely. "Princess, please wait here and enjoy these comforts while you wait. As procedure dictates, the fourteen Baronesses will be introduced in reverse order of rank, then yourself, then the Queen Regent. Do you find this agreeable?"

"I do," replied Enalia as she glanced at her collection of companions. "I have four late arrivals as well, if you don't mind escorting them here."

The holographic maid bowed again. "I must remind the Princess that she is allowed nine crew on the floor. However as two Baronesses are present, if they would be so kind to be introduced separately, three crew each are allowed, as per the Tribunal guidelines."

"Understood. Once they arrive, we'll work out the details." Then Enalia realized their first issue. Captain Magnus was already in there... But Dox was the first one that would be introduced since she was the very lowest ranking Baroness. Tugging down on her white Starfleet dress uniform, she turned to her Romulan Flight Control Chief. "Mnhei'sahe, who do you want to go out with you? Or would you rather go out as part of my crew?"

The red-headed Romulan Lieutenant and Baroness was fidgeting slightly with her own white, Starfleet dress uniform as she had never had to wear it before today. Taking a brief moment, she thought on the Captain's question before answering. "As I see it, Captain, if I come out as part of your crew, the other Baronesses will view me as only Starfleet and I would be concerned that it would invalidate my own legitimacy as a Baroness."

The spotted captain grinned her usual lopsided piratical grin. "You've grown into a fine officer and, if I might add, a fine Baroness. I agree completely."

As she spoke, Dox turned to look at the crew that was her family, uncertain. The entire Command crew was present, along with the Vulcan refugee Az'Prel and Dox's mother, Jaeih. The two had been sent out on a top secret mission of Intelligence gathering and had returned successfully only hours ago.

Before the anxious young officer could speak, her mother stepped forward in her standard grey Intelligence tunic and the customized comm badge in the shape of the Romulan sigil Rita Paris had made for her. "Captain. With your permission, it would honor me to stand with my Daughter as a member of her crew." As she spoke, the stern face of the elder Romulan cricked an eyebrow and the slightest of smiles as she nodded towards her unlikely partner in espionage, Az'Prel. A questioning gesture that read clearly as 'are you in?'.

The Vulcan woman stepped forward as well, her hands at her sides. She was dressed in something resembling Artan crew livery and looked mildly uncomfortable in the fancy clothing. "It would be remiss of me to not volunteer my own services in this instance. I too will accompany you." After a slight bow of her head, she continued. "We come to serve."

As Az'Prel and Jaeih stepped behind Mnhei'sahe, Commander Rita Paris nodded silently to a gold-clad security officer, Petty Officer Lu, to go with the group to fill out the three available slots. Paris had briefed the Security personnel she'd brought on this mission, and they all knew their parts in the plan.

As she did, Mnhei'sahe shot her First Officer and friend a smile and then turned back towards the maid. "We're ready."

Then the maid once again spoke up. "Baroness Mnhei'sahe Dox, the hall awaits you. If you and your crew will follow me."

With a final tug on her crisp, white uniform top, the young Dox turned and smiled at the rest of the crew nervously, as she knew she would have to put her best face on the second she turned back around. 'First out the door, dressed in Starfleet white. They're going to love you, Mnhei'sahe.' She thought to herself as she turned back to the maid and followed with Az'Prel, Jaeih, and Lu close behind her.

Lieutenant Commander Thex was waiting with the rest of the group feeling nervous as she gave her Starfleet formal wear another one last look over. She was thankful for her twins not being big enough to have her body show any signs of being pregnant. She didn't want any of the Baronesses or the other pirates to know. Still, she was going to help her friend no matter the risk. She had the bracelets that would allow her to summon the armor of Achilles tucked into her pocket just in case. Not that she'd be needing them she hoped to herself.

As for Commander Rita Paris, this was the culmination of entirely too many sleepless night, miles paced in worry and concern, and plotting and planning that had made her question her convictions, her morals, as well as how far she was willing to go to protect her crew, and her Captain. In the moment, finally arrived at the situation, she found herself possessed of a preternatural calm. There was, she felt, very little that could occur in this proceeding which would surprise her. She knew their opposition, she knew what was likely going to happen, and she had contingencies and plans in motion which might or might not come to pass.

Whatever happened, she would be ready for it. After all, she’d made a promise to a little girl who very much wanted to see her grandmother when she woke up one day in the far-flung future, and Rita Paris wasn’t in the habit of breaking promises to little girls. Especially not when she was all decked out in the crisp white of a modern-day Starfleet dress uniform, which made her feel like a Big Damn Hero. The soft white and gold piping looked austere, even if she wasn't quite so accustomed to having so many medals on her chest and wrists. Once she had looked them all up, she was actually surprisingly decorated as an officer.

Which was nice, but overall she was just happy they were such a vast improvement over the dress uniforms of her own era, which she recalled with an involuntary shudder.

This situation was a tightrope she didn’t want to walk- but aside from that promise, this was for Enalia. The woman had saved her life, and given her a port when most would have thought her useless. She was her captain and her friend, and she wasn’t going to allow this to destroy her. She’d take a disruptor bolt for the woman, and damned if she’d let a controlling old murderess ruin her friend’s life any further.

At her side stood Sonak, seemingly quite at ease in his formal wear. The whiteness of the upper portion made his greenish-copper skin stand out glaringly, which in turn made his steely grey eyes almost luminescent under his blue-black typical Vulcan haircut. As it were, he looked more stern than any of the judges would be. But the glint in his eye was that of the curiosity of the exosociologist observing from a privileged standpoint the laws and customs of an alien people; not judging, but observing, studying, understanding; but most of all ready to stand by his commanding officer. There was no emotional involvement, only logic. But loyalty was the logical stance of a Starfleet officer towards another.

Lieutenant Samuel Clemens, the USS Hera's Intel Chief, stood there at parade rest, in the gleaming white of a Starfleet dress uniform, his bright blue eyes rapidly scanning the room in some detail from under his bushy brows. What the shorter, wiry man was searching for, he did not disclose in present company, but his gaze was that of an eagle, awaiting the other shoe to drop.

"Ok, with luck, Schwein and Jablonski will get here before they're called." Enalia pursed her lips thoughtfully as she considered their next steps. "Since she still has no crew... I think Jablonski should go with her as a show of force. And since she's Hera's honor guard, and no one else here should technically know who she is..."

Enalia had more to think on this, but was interrupted by the holo-wall display springing to life with the proceedings in the Trial hall being broadcast. The round mahogany chamber was centrally lit and sparsely furnished, compared to the rest of the fortress, having instead relatively simple handrails, furnishings, and no plants whatsoever. Even the walls were blank white, with just mahogany trim around the doors that led to each of the pseudo balconies.

Fourteen were arranged on a lower level around the main floor with two on either side for the royal family members and their crew on a slightly higher level. At what could be called the head of the round room was another balcony at the same level as the two royal ones - the only one with a desk. The five seats were already occupied by Captain Magnus and his chosen four crew, one of which was his own daughter.

In the center of the room one of the holo-maids announced the first of the Baronesses to enter. "I present to you, Baroness fifth class Mnhei'sahe Dox, of the Artan ship Khallianen and the Federation Starship USS Hera... and her crew." She then held out her arm towards the doorway and the balcony that they were assigned just as Dox and crew stepped out and took their seats.

The holo-maid then moved on to begin introducing the next Baroness in line, but Enalia interrupted the holographic playback. "Computer, volume ten percent." With the volume subdued, they could at least discuss their plans, but still have an eye on the opening ceremonies.

"Well, Commander? What are your thoughts? Is there a third that should go out with Schwein?" Enalia asked, turning to her first officer, just as Schwein and Jablonski were escorted into the room by one of the holo-maids.

The eye patched pirate was fussing with her white and gold Baroness dress jacket with the cape as she entered, which seemed to fit a bit more tightly than the last time she wore it. "Mein apologies for our tardiness, Prinzessin. We have what we need."

"For the Baroness von Alcott, no mere retinue would do," Paris declared. "It's good to see you both, and I'll trust that you have good news for me. I'll also trust you to deliver it at the appropriate moment, Baroness. For now, Jablonski, you're with the Baroness. But why don't we request the attendance of our VIP suites 11 and 13 to attend as the remainder of the Baroness' retinue? It will be interesting to see who can 'pierce the veil' as it were."

"Agreed," Enalia grinned as she knew few of the Hera's own crew could see one of their own guests, and the other, while powerful, was somewhat unassuming.

''A logical approach,'' commented Sonak.

"Thank you, Mister Sonak. Jablonski, pass on my orders and get them down here on the double. And it goes without saying, this is a hostile negotiation and I expect treachery, so remain on high alert. As I said, swords only until I give the word, understood?" Paris fired off her orders in shorthand, but the stout guardian understood, and started calling the Hera for reinforcements for the Baroness.

Sonak, of course, was not wearing any sword nor phaser, since both were not part of Starfleet's formal dress code. But as a Vulcan, he was allowed to wear something of his own culture as a part of it. Hence why his hips were belted by his anh woon, the inconspicuous-looking twin length of weighted leather that could be used as a most bewildering whipping and entangling weapon, in the hands of a kolinahr master like himself.

It only took a moment from that point for Taxes to make the trip from the Hera with both of its riders. Though to most it looked as if Hera popped into existence while dismounting an invisible horse, those that could 'pierce the veil', saw the pale horse arrive with both riders through some sort of deathly film and step off with the surety that comes from genuine practice with such animals.

Hera moved to greet her favorite person with open arms. "Rita, my darling. You look divine. You all do. I'm told that we are to accompany the Baroness von Alcott?"

Gratefully accepting a Hera hug, Rita Paris smiled at the matron goddess. “Thank you for coming. Yes, if you would be so kind, ma’am. The Baroness lacks a crew, and I can think of no better retinue for the next Asgardian in this instance. Petty Officer Jablonski? Whatever happens here today, not a single hair on her head. We are in accord?”

Stepping forward, the hulking captain of Hera's honor guard nodded once. If trouble erupted, she would fight til her last breath to ensure the safety of her charge, as would any good defender. Standing behind the goddess, the Amazonian Security officer stepped in protectively close, and it was clear to Paris that her orders would be carried out to the letter, no matter the cost. It might have been a trick of the light, but Rita could swear Jablonski swelled up a bit as her brows set and she hovered protectively over the goddess.

After Rei patted down Taxes, she dismissed the pale horse and turned to the collection of officers, wondering just how many would be able to see her during these proceedings. And if they could... How they saw her.

Clemens' parlor perusal paused, as he heard the hoofbeats incoming. A wide grin crossed his face, as he turned toward the sound, and saw not only the lovely Lady Death, but also the loyal Taxes, and the surprise passenger, the Goddess Hera. Sam gave a slow head nod to the arrivals, and with a twinkle in his eyes, returned to the micro-monitoring of the room for any potential hostile developments. "Should've brought an apple for Taxes..." he mused.

"He would enjoy that," Rei softly intoned, curtseying before the southern gentleman. "I hope you don't mind that I will be escorting a Baroness this eve."

The man with the eye of the tiger caught her gaze as he continued to be vigilant, and said in a low tone, pitched for her only, "I would never presume to infract upon your duties, sweet Rei. I look forward to seeing this affair through with you nearby." He swept past her countenance as though nothing had passed between them, continuing to divine what treachery might come, a slight upturn of his mouth incrementally betraying his improved humor.

“So it looks like the musicians are in place, the orchestra is tuned, and the singers are ready to take the stage. Captain?” Paris turned to the Trill woman and placed one hand on each of the white uniformed shoulders, and she peered directly into the eyes of the pirate princess. When she spoke, her voice was low and soft, for these words were for Enalia alone.

“All of your life has led to this moment,” Rita Paris began, searching for the words that might inspire her captain, to lend her fortitude in the trial ahead.

”This is your one moment in time, when you are racing with destiny. You are stronger than you know, cleverer by half, and you have a crew who are willing to lay down their lives all out of loyalty to you. Not rank, not orders- we’re all here solely because here and now, in this time and place, you need us. So whatever happens out there, remember- you earned our allegiance, one and all. Which makes you light years better than someone who rules through fear and murder. We've assembled a solid case, we've used teamwork and trust, we've planned for the contingencies and we're all here to stand beside you.”

"A crew and a family, and I admit I don't see a difference between them." The Pirate Princess Turned Starfleet Captain took a deep breath and adjusted her dress jacket once more before addressing everyone. "My mother may have designed me to be what I am, but because of my time with everyone else, I am who I am. I am also not alone in this. We are not ever alone. Even in our darkest moments, we rise up because of our peers and those behind us, pushing us forward to be better than who we were yesterday. To be the best versions of ourselves."

"The Queen Regent does not see that, and cares nothing for true morals or principles. She cares about power and holding onto it. She always has. That is why we must be the best that we can be today. To show her and everyone assembled that while we do indeed work in the shadows, there is a better way and that in the end, the principles and morals of the Federation do win out every time."

With that, Paris led a cheer, "Hooray for the Captain!"

The cheer caught on, and the assemblage all joined in, in their own ways. "Well said, Captain. Wait'll they get a load of you, eh?"

The holo-maid spoke up, motioning towards Schwein. "Baroness von Alcott, it is time for you and your crew to be introduced. If you would please follow me."

As Schwein stepped forward, Hera, Rei, and Jablonski took their places with her and were led out of the room, only to appear on the holo-screen moments later as they were introduced to the ten other assembled Baronesses. There was a bit of a fuss with a few of the Baronesses, as there was a disconnect between a select few being able to see Rei, and everyone else reporting only two crew with her.

"So if they can see her, does that mean they're not long for this world, or they're just a little too chummy with Death?" Rita muttered.

Making a delayed entrance and looking freshly washed, Doctor Dael entered quietly, waiting to be seen and signaled if needed. The doctor had just come off an 18 hour shift in sick bay delivering a child that had been loathe to enter the universe. After a quick wash to refresh body and mind, the doctor stood, ever ready, med-bag in hand, waiting for instructions.

"I suppose it would be a bit of both," Enalia mused, making a mental note of those that reacted to the presence of Death. As Enalia waited, she turned back to the remaining crew and marked out who would go out with her. "Rita, Thex, Sonak, Asa, Sam, Rena, and the two Wil'I'Ams sisters. I think that should be a good showing."

Maica leaned in, giving her wife a good, long, passionate kiss. "I think it's a marvelous selection. I'll keep an eye on things here and cheer you on."

"Thank you, my love," the Trill woman replied softly, her hand softly caressing her green holographic lover's cheek.

"In step, move as a unit, drill formation flying diamond, people," Paris ordered, and quickly lined everyone up for the Captain's entrance. With everyone arranged, Paris called the cadence. "We all step out on the left, and let's show these freebooters a bit of Starfleet coordination and discipline, shall we?"

Leaning in to the Captain, Paris nodded. "Is the word given, Captain?"

Just then the holo-maid spoke up. "Princess Enalia Telvan, it is time. If you and your crew will please follow me." She ten motioned for them to proceed out and towards the chambers.

"The order is so given," Enalia confirmed, adjusting her uniform one last time and taking her place at the head of the procession. As they stepped out into the spotlight shining on the large double doors leading onto their balcony, Enalia stood at military attention as she waited for everyone else to take their places in front of their seats. Then as one crew, they all sat down together.

Meanwhile, the holo-maid acting as an announcer in the center of the audience chamber was calling off the announcement of the Captain and her crew. "Ladies and Gentlebeings of the assembled Tribunal. I present to you the Ruling Princess of the Artan Pirate Lineage. Savior of Haslak nine. Defender of The Fortean Rifts Alliance. Scourge of the Syndicate. Passion of Starfleet Academy. Exterminator of the Twin Suns Pirates. Breen Bane. Defender of the Unified. Protector of the Free. Princess Enalia Telvan!"

A few cheers went up as the announcement was finished, but a couple dirty looks were also tossed their way.

Then it was the Queen Regent's turn. She came in with as much hatred and vinegar in her veins as a Disney villain. Of her chosen nine, most looked like life had chewed them up and spat out the worst parts as gristle and pirate stereotypes. One man stood out though - he wore a gold and red uniform similar to those in the mirror universe's Terran Empire and though the emblem on his chest was that of the Artan family, there was no mistaking the dagger at his hip for anything but a relic of that universe.

Over in Dox's balcony, Az'Prel stiffened visibly and leaned in towards Jaeih. "Him..." she said, indicating the oddly dressed man in the Queen's retinue, the venom barely concealed in her Vulcan tone. "That is the father of my daughter."

Setting her eyes upon the man from the mirror universe, Jaeih replied with a discreet whisper only Az'Prel and Mnhei'sahe could hear. "Then we know who needs to be asked some questions before this is over, Az'Prel. Will any luck, we can ask him in as unpleasant a fashion as is possible."

The holo-maid announcer, if it was possible, seemed slightly less enthused about announcing her entry. "Ladies and Gentlebeings of the assembled Tribunal. I present to you the Queen Regent of the Artan Pirate Lineage." She then began listing off title after title, each one sounding worse than the last.

After several minutes, Arenara waved it off. "That's enough. You may dispense with the rest of my accomplishments as we would be here all day."

With a slight bow, the holo-maid continued. "Queen Regent, Retired, Arenara Artan!" Unlike for Enalia, there was no celebratory noise making, other than the possibly collective sigh of having the introduction over with.

Captain Magnus then raised his gavel and slammed it down twice. "I hereby call this, the third tribunal of the Artan Family to order."

"If there are any objections or grievances, let them now be aired..."

Continued in Tribunal - Parlimentary Procedure...

The gregarious ginger gentleman once again arrived on Deck 8, headed for the VIP quarters. But this time, it wasn't for the purpose of spending time with the current Incarnation of Death (whom he happened to be "seeing", in the parlance of his native land).

He was there to speak with someone he'd actively been avoiding, having not quite figured out what to say to her, after the Meroset Affair. The goddess Hera, advanced non-human being, whose race had been the entirety of one of Earth's ancient deific pantheons in ancient times.

The Ambrosians, as Hera had indicated the most appropriate translation of her race's name to be in modern parlance, were pretty much the exact case study on how to screw up a younger race, pretty much permanently, having exposed humanity to unfathomably-powerful technologies, in the guise of godhood and forced worship, which drained life essence from the populations, in order to feed those same powers which they wielded. This, by all modern accounts, had resulted in something akin to a dependence upon hardened religious sects that took millennia for the Earth natives to finally shake off- and even in modern times, not entirely.

Speaking of shaking things off, Sam visibly shook his own head, as if to clear himself of any lingering animosity over what they'd discovered in the Meroset system- an early spacefaring, advanced culture, disrupted in the extreme, by force, many of them stranded in the outskirts of the system, as their world was invaded and converted to a war machine to wage Hera's rage-fueled crusade to wipe out humanoid life that may or may not have been seeded by her philandering husband, Zeus.

The suffering she visited upon that world was horrific to contemplate, with horrors including forced worship, erasure of the previous culture, breeding programs designed to produce monstrously-modified offspring to serve as mindless shock troops...

Sam had to physically stop, and concentrate, to keep his mind from descending into the rage he'd felt when he'd first read the probe scans from the system as they'd done proper intel work to determine the fate of the natives.

He arrived at the door in question, and nodded to the hulking female security guards present, announcing himself.

"Chief of Intel, here to consult with Hera," he said, simply, as though it wasn't anything special.

The large, wide, thick and generally somewhat massive Petty Officer Second Class Jablonski looked down at the mustachioed Missouri madman, brow furrowing in consideration.

“You’re not on the list, sir. I’ll have to call it in,” Jablonski explained as she reached for her comm badge. The Intel chief, possessed of a high situational awareness, noticed that the large Security officer was watching him carefully as she spoke and reached, alert for any sign of trouble from the bionic brinksman. Beside her, the considerably less impressive yet still muscular and alert security officer had stepped slightly to starboard, effectively surrounding the intelligence chief without making any threatening moves whatsoever.

Both of them were watching him like a hawk, even while watching the corridor. Clearly there was no casual ‘slipping by’ the guards of the gateway to the goddess.

“Petty Officer Jablonski to Commander Paris,” the Amazonian armsman asked, patiently awaiting the reply.

=^= Paris here. Problems, Petty Officer? =^= came the reply.

“Oh, no ma’am. Lieutenant Clemens is requesting access to VIP Quarters 11, Commander,” Jablonski reported.

There was a pause on the line at that, while on the other end of the comms Paris considered why Clemens, who knew procedure perfectly well, was trying to bypass her standing order without bringing it to her directly. Was he testing Security? The first officer of the USS Hera resolved to have a discussion with the Intelligence chief about it later, assuming she didn’t have it with him sooner.

=^= Call for another Security officer to spell you, and accompany the Lieutenant for his visitation, Petty Officer Jablonski. No walkabouts. =^=

“Understood, Ma’am,” came the reply, and even as she finished the call, one of the Wil’I’Ams sisters was approaching to replieve her. Without turning her back on Chief Clemens, Jablonski called out to the overhead. “Computer, unseal hatch on Deck 8 VIP Quarters 11.”

=^= What is your current weight? =^= the computer asked, and Jablonski blushed a bit.

“Awwww, dang. 146 kilos,” the farmgirl from Cestes IV responded with a mope, and the computer chirruped as the door slid open. Stepping in first, the hulking petty officer moved sideways, back to the wall as she stopped half in and half out of the door. A restraining hand that was bigger than his head was held out to prevent the crafty cryptographer from preceding her.

“Ma’am? You have a visitor,” Jablonski called out, waiting for a reply from within.

Clemens was impressed by the security response, but kept it to himself. He's been practicing avoidance in regard to Hera, and it was time for that to cease. You're the Chief of Intel aboard what amounts to the Flagship of Starfleet's Intel group. You haven't even interviewed her, yet- and that should have happened a long time ago, his hindbrain told him, and she's been no trouble since. The reports are good, and she seems to be trying to make up for the things she did. Give her the break she deserves... it continued, while they awaited a response.

Crap, the 'Hera Effect' is kinda scary up close, another part of his brain noted less than casually as Jablonski moved slightly. Suddenly she was a bit in his space, and he could not help but notice how much larger an animal she was standing next to him. The woman's forearms were bigger than his thighs, and her wrists were as large as his bicep. He hoped the PO wasn't having any problems with the changes.

Sam understood how hard it could be to wake up as 'not quite yourself', after all.

Hera was on her favorite fainting couch, a book in hand and dozing lightly when the door opened. Immediately startled awake, she looked around with bleary eyes and dropped her hardcover of the Iliad with a thud on the floor. "Ah... Yes, please come in. I just need to... Freshen up..."

Like his mama taught him, Sam waited respectfully in the anteroom, to allow the tenant of the suite the time she needed to 'get her face on', in the parlance used by his kin. Standing at parade rest, the eyes of the security officer roamed the room, insuring nothing that might endanger her charges escaped her attention.

It didn't take the matronly goddess long to wash up and make herself presentable. Soon she was ready to receive her guest and greeted him and the head of her honor guard in the entryway. "I am so sorry for your wait. Please, come in and make yourself comfortable. What brings you by... Ahm... What was your name?"

Sam made a motion as though he were tipping his hat, and nodded, replying politely, "Lieutenant Samuel Langhorne Clemens the Fifteenth, ma'am. I'm the Chief of Intelligence aboard the ship, here."

If he'd had a hat, it would have been off his head, and in his hands, as was customary.

"A pleasure to meet you. I am Hera." The matronly goddess simply curtsied as she introduced herself. "How may I help you today?"

Despite his baser urges regarding her past, Sam found himself reminded of a favorite aunt, or three, back home. He broke into an abashed smile, and replied honestly, if not completely.

"Well, Ma'am, I'm afraid that I've neglected some of my duties regarding your presence, here, and it just comes down to me procrastinatin'. Th'reasons why are somewhat complex, but it comes down to me forming an early opinion of you that I've yet to properly update, given your actions while aboard our ship.

He fidgeted just a touch as he spoke, but powered through with the crow-eating.

"I'm aware of your prowess as a military leader, and you deserve my honesty." He squared his bearing, and faced her with respect.

"I judged you very harshly, based upon incoming reports of the events before our arrival in the Meroset system. I never spoke with you post-battle, basing my analysis on mission reports, and I failed to look you in the eyes and give you the benefit of full measure, as an elder leader deserves, as a baseline acknowledgement of your historical significance. I let my initial, remote view of you set itself in concrete."

"That was wrong of me, and I'm here to apologize, and correct my slight."

Hera frowned a bit and nodded before motioning towards her dining room table. "Perhaps we should sit and talk it out then. I have no interest in rehashing my more insane days of bloodlust, but if you'd like, we will discuss it."

Sam followed the kind-faced woman to the table, debated pulling out her chair for her by sheer force of upbringing, but also realized that she was extending hospitality to him, and took a seat across from her, scooting up, and steepling his fingers in front of his, his elbows planted on the table, an earnest mannerism that seemed to come easily to him.

"This coming chicanery we're all about to face is part of the reason why I'm here, as well. Whatever change has come over you, it seems to be to the benefit of the galaxy at large. That makes you an important ally, and someone a gentleman intel agent ought to at least become cordial with," he opined, a slightly-cocked smile playing on his lips.

"In all honesty, you've shown several friends of mine nothing but kindness and friendship, so I owe it to you to attempt to extend the same to you. Thank you for all the help you've given us. I understand that you're something of a goddess of family, and this here ship is definitely become my family since I've been here."

"Having been forcefully shown the error of your ways over the course of your entire life is... Eye opening, to say the least." Hera chuckled softly. "To know that there is indeed a better way and to make use of it daily tends to inspire and instill one with the ideals, hopes, and goals of those that one is now a deific personality for. Not to mention the bond that Rita and I share. I think she has influenced me more than anyone. For her, I genuinely strive to be what she sees as a good person."

"On that note, It does nothing to stop my domain from slipping out across the ship. Certain inhibitors have been put in place, but I'm afraid as long as I stay here, pregnancy and family rates will always be unnaturally high."

At that comment, Petty Officer Jablonski diplomatically cleared her throat.

"Ah, and the effect I've had on those that have dedicated themselves to protecting me. That's more of a very localized thing, though." Hera looked a bit sheepish, realizing she was rambling a bit. She couldn't help what she was. "So is there anything else I can help you with? You are a part of my family now, after all."

Even her demeanor was charming. Pretty damned hard to hold even a small grudge, under the circumstances. Sam decided that business was the best way forward.

"Initially, I intended for this t'be an apology, and a short intel de-briefing, to supplement my own observations and interpretations of the various reports from Meroset. But, it's clear to me, now, that you're dedicated to the well-being of your namesake and all of us who serve on her." He looked contemplative. "I'd like your assessment of the coming Tribunal, from the viewpoint of someone who's seen duplicity on a far grander scale than most mortals, if you'd care to share. We've got options, of course, but another expert opinion would help us prepare for success while trying to minimize the wreckage that conflicts like this inevitably end up causing."

"I normally don't get involved in such things and no one has specifically briefed me on the specifics..." Hera began delicately, then sighed as she pulled the notepad and pen she kept on the table to her and began drawing out what she saw of the battle lines, though they would likely make little to no sense to anyone else. "From what 've been able to gather astrally, both sides are poised to crush the other. If this crew allows themselves to fall into the other side's trappings in any way, it's over. If the other side pulls back their curtain of deceit at all, they lose on the first front, but will still have a lion's head at the rear front."

Hera finished drawing her diagram of the coming battle - a bit of a prophecy in and of itself, containing the Hera, a lion, clouds full of speckles, lightning on both sides, and a laughing man with a goatee. "I'm not the greatest artist, but..." She pulled the page free and slid it over to Sam. "I hope this helps."

Sam watched curiously as the ancient, who was far more technically-advanced than most other species in the galaxy, used a form of communication that was old even by human standards. When she'd finished, he took it, and nodded. "I suspect it'll at least help us avoid some of the most nasty surprises that I'm certain that harridan has in store for us. So the primary takeaway from this information is, essentially, wheels within wheels- however sneaky we estimate the other side is, double it, then double it, again." He smiled widely, this time, a twinkle in his sapphire-blue eyes. He stood, and bowed.

"Madam Hera, you have my thanks, and the thanks of the crew of this ship, for all the help you've given us, both in this situation, and others. On behalf of my section, the Intel team welcomes you, and I, personally, am glad you're here."

As though tipping his hat, he touched his right temple, then extended the two fingers toward her in a salute that had, for millennia, showed respect, and took his leave. Behind him, Petty Officer Jablonski bowed her head silently to her patron goddess, then moved to follow the Lieutenant as he lead the way to the corridor.

Once again alone, Hera let slip her weariness and leaned against the table like the old woman she really was. She then sighed heavily. "I just hope they all come home safely."