Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“Why did I ever think an old fashioned grandfather clock would look good in here….” Asa grumbled to themself.

The sound announcing the passing of each second had transformed from a once-reassuring beat to a grating reminder of the passage of time. The young doctor took a calming breath, timing each inhale and exhale to last seven seconds.

Clocks are not what you are upset about, Asa. Come on, use all those counseling skills you learned and fix your dang self. You know what’s wrong. Quit being a superstitious fool and get on with it. they chided themself.

Of course things were never as simple as that. If self-recrimination was an effective disaster preparedness tool, no one on the Hera would ever be in danger again. The propensity towards self-doubt was something the young doctor shared with Mnhei’sahe Dox, their closest friend, and they couldn’t help but wonder what “Min” (as Asa called her) would think of the anxious situation in which Dael found themself.

Almost as if involuntarily, Asa sat down and began to muse on the horrible day that had kick-started this feeling of dread they carried every day now. After all, like Nana Yi’hawn always said….some things come in threes……….

SOME MONTHS PRIOR


The red alert klaxons were screaming, a sound which matched the overall tone currently in Sickbay. Over the course of Captain Telvan's tribunal her treacherous mother had launched an attack on the proceedings after evidence of her ill-doings had been presented, and the assembly had broken off into armed combat. Once transporters were able to be used the Hera had beamed all injured parties to Sick Bay, regardless of affiliation, and the chaos had continued.

Bleeding combatants tried to resume killing one another while bewildered nurses and medical staff did what they could to keep things under control until Security finally arrived. The security personnel acted quickly and efficiently to secure each person to a biobed, stunning when necessary, and putting everyone not of Starfleet in a confinement field.

Beaming in, Asa turned and called to Carrott, "What do we have?"

The red headed man turned and said quickly, "37 people with class C injuries, 14 with class B, and 4 with Class A priority. The EMH is working on the most urgent now, but the joined Trill in biobed 17 was injured along the joining canal and both are bleeding profusely. We have done what we can to stop it, but they need surgery immediately."

"Understood, on my way," Asa said, thankful that the direct beam in to Sickbay had already served as pre-surgical sanitation.

Three steps away from a biobed with a large trill man wearing Artan regalia, Asa's steps stuttered as the ship shuttered from weapons fire. Getting back up, Asa was horrified to see the trill man fall off the bed with a grunt. He tried to right himself, producing a gush of blood over the cloth on his abdomen; as Asa rushed over the man fell to the ground with a sickening thud.

"Someone help me get him up!" Asa called out, grabbing the nearest Security officer and directing her how to lift the patient back on to the biobed.

Carrott was close behind and was bringing over surgical instruments, standing for a moment watching them read the medical records before proffering the laser scalpel he knew would be requested.

After taking the scalpel, Asa quickly removed the man’s shirt and did a quick sanitation of the soon-to-be surgical area. They made an incision along his upper abdomen and quickly set about with an examination of the joining canal. The blood was obviously coming from this area as the man’s stomach and intestines all showed evidence of perforation, and the crucial artery leading to the symbiont was bleeding profusely.

“We don’t have much time, tissue regenerator,” Asa said, turning to find Carrott retrieving it from the tray of instruments he brought over. Carrott’s usually genial face looked gray, overwhelmed at the sudden carnage that had invaded the usually calm confines of Sickbay.

“Carrott, I’m going to need you to get in here with me, ok buddy?” Asa asked, trying for a weak smile to encourage the sometimes flustered nurse.

“Um, ok, right, yes,” Carrott stammered in assent, moving to sterilize his hands quickly and taking the opposite side of the biobed.

Asa had begun healing what they could of the joining artery, but the blood loss was quite intense. “I need you to run a line of trill type Zed Alpha blood directly into the symbiont, Carrott. We don’t have time for it to filter through the host,” they said in a calm but efficient manner.

And I don’t know how long the host will be alive Asa thought ruefully.

Carrott took a deep breath and walked to the replicator to get the needed blood, shaking his hands and arms in the manner he often did when he was trying to “shake off” any negative thoughts. The young nurse was obviously as concerned as Asa was, but doing everything he could to keep his fear in check. After he had started the IV, he looked to see was still operating on the symbiont only.

“The host, Doctor! What about the host?” he said in a rushed manner.

“The host has multiple ruined arteries, a perforated stomach that has leaked poison into the bowels and bloodstream, and lungs that are shredded from what may have been flying shrapnel. His entire bloodstream is toxic, and the brain wave pattern matching his cerebral nuclei is no longer active. The host is dead, Carrott, the body just doesn’t know it yet. Anything I do to save the host will tax the symbiont and likely cause both of them to die…..If I got to him 10 minutes sooner, things might have been different, but it’s too late now. We need to stabilize the symbiont and arrange for a symbiont-compatible stasis pod immediately. I’ll work here, I need you to go find one right now. There should be the specifications programmed into the replicator.”

Asa’s tone was clipped in a way not like their usual affable nature, speaking of the urgency of the need, and a hint of the sorrow at the loss of life. Seeing Carrott had not moved and was staring at the ruined body of the trill man with trembling hands, they spoke again, but this time in softer tones.

“I know it’s a terrible loss, and it is against our natural reaction to have to sacrifice one life to save another, but this life is lost anyway, John. He would want us to save his symbiont, and we have a duty to save what life we can. We can mourn later, but right now I need you to focus, ok? You can do this John, I promise.”

Shaken from his reverie, Carrott ran off to the replicator to procure a stasis chamber for the symbiont. With a nod to themself, Asa set about performing the surgery to remove the symbiont. One they had only seen done in Starfleet academy and never dreamed of performing. It was pointless to wish the EMH was doing this, but Asa found those thoughts running through their head.

Carrott returned, hands still shaky but with less trembling. As he handed over the receptacle he said, trepidation in his voice, “We are sealing the hosts’ fate if we do this doc. Are…..are you sure?”

With a sigh, Asa accepted the receptacle and said, “Yeah….I am. He’s already gone, John. But after I remove the symbiont, I would like you to stay with him and keep him comfortable until he passes. It…it won’t take long. I would do so myself, but I don’t have the luxury of time today. I’m sorry, I truly am.”

Tears filling his eyes, Carrott simply nodded his understanding and drew a seat to sit vigil over the Artan officer. Asa worked quickly and efficiently, healing the tissues in the symbiont before completing the extraction and placing them securely in a transport vessel until they could be returned to the Trill symbiosis commission. Asa closed the open wound in the dying Trill, trying to allow him whatever dignity could still be found in his death. Assuring he had adequate pain medication to not feel anything as he passed, Asa patted Carrott on the shoulder and began moving on to the next patient.

En route to the next Class A patient, Asa saw one of the biobeds housing a Class B injured human begin flashing “Severe Radiation Warning”. Rushing over, Asa immediately drew a radiation-shielding field around the treatment area and began scanning.

Noticing a smug smile on the grizzled woman’s face, Asa shouted, “What did you do? You weren’t radioactive when we beamed you aboard!”

Answered only with silence, Asa scanned with their tricorder and snarled in frustration when they found the cause of the sudden increase in radiation- a small pebble of uranium had been encased in lead and attached to housing unit containing a lead-dissolving syringe contained in a breast implant in the woman’s chest. The unit had been triggered apparently by the woman pressing a concealed button on her Artan regalia that sent a signal to the housing unit. The lead dissolved revealing a graphite coating that increased the reactivity of the uranium as it fused, increasing the woman’s body temperature to dangerous level and leaking deadly radiation to everyone in Sickbay.

“Like hell,” was all Asa said as they quickly donned protective gloves and made a quick incision in the woman’s chest. Withdrawing the uranium ball of grief, Asa ran to the matter reclamater and quickly had the uranium removed from Sickbay. On the way back to the patient, Asa called to the Sickbay staff, “Radiation scans on all patients, stat. We just had one trigger a device that could have killed us all. Check on any implants and report to me immediately.”


The flurry of activity in Sickbay increased as all staff members began frantically scanning patients. The EMH signaled understanding and continued on the surgery he was working on. Thankfully no other patients had brought aboard a Chernobyl surprise, but a homing device was detected by a security officer scanning a Class C patient’s boot. The stalwart security staff waived Asa down, who confirmed the patient had stable enough vitals to answer a few questions.

The patient was a leering old human man, about 180cm in height with dirty blonde hair mixed in with a ruddy gray. He was sporting a smile featuring ugly, yellow teeth that were consistent with addiction to several illicit substances, and a pock marked face speaking to fighting injuries never healed. The laugh he was failing to conceal sounded as nasty as he himself looked, and Asa had no doubt he had some wickedness in mind.

Leaning over to complete their scan, they asked the man, “What is so funny? You don’t seem to be in a position to make one laugh….”

The man tapped the side of his nose and said, “Oh, no worse position than you are in really. None of us will live to see tomorrow.”

Arching an eyebrow, Asa inquired, “Really? And why is that?”

“Oh, could be any number of things,” he said, trying to act innocent. “The Queen will likely blow you all out of the sky any moment now.”

“You seem less certain of that than you do our impending death. Tell me, what you have done!” Asa boomed.

“Me? Why, nothing,” he replied.

“What does the tracker in your shoe do then?” Asa asked, irritation growing with each exchange.

“It tracks me,” was the smug response.

Patience evaporated, Asa drew up a chair and sat down, leaning in close and getting close to the mans face.

“Sir, I don’t know what series of choices led you here. I don’t know why death looks like such an appealing option to you. It doesn’t look that way to me, or to the adults and children of so many peoples aboard this ship. Children, man! Would you let children and infants die because your Queen is pissed off at her daughter? You would murder infants to serve a political agenda? Come on, you must be better than that….” Their voice was earnest, heartfelt, and a bit manic. Security was circling the doctor, ready to take over questioning in an instant, but as long as the man was in Sickbay, he was Asa’s purview.

“Ch…children? Infants?” he squeaked, sounding startled. “No…no one told me there were families aboard. I….I thought it was just you ‘fleeters. I don’t want to be part of killing no children. That’s not me, ‘Ol Matt wouldn’t do that, no I wouldn’t.”

Gathering steam and resolve, ‘Ol Matt continued, “The tracker in my shoe is for a series of explosive devices that are following this ship through the Nebula. Once they catch up, the Queen can trigger them from her vessel. There’s enough charge in those bastards to blow seven starships to kingdom come. I don’t know what you can do about it, but here, take this,” he said, handing over a small data stick, “It’s everything I know. I….borrowed…..the schematics a while back when I agreed to become a human tracking device.”

“Thank you,” Asa said, voice full of relief. Handing over the data stick to security, Asa typed a message into the bridge crew alerting them of the trailing devices and continued on to the next Class A patient.

The patient’s body was hard to recognize at first as that of Ensign Caroline Damodred. The young human woman had joined the Hera about 3 months prior, fresh from the Academy and excited to join the engineering crew. Now she was covered in severe plasma burns, shards of shattered console cover, and bleeding gashes inflicted when a console in Engineering erupted after a particularly nasty shot to the Hera. Nurse Almera was slowly removing Caroline’s ruined clothing, wincing as each piece of fabric pulled at her skin, causing her blood pressure to spike in response to the pain. Damodred had tried to call out her agony, but her mouth was a ruin of melted flesh and missing teeth, making speech impossible.

“Easy Eve, I’ve got her,” Asa said, placing a hand on Nurse Almera’s shaking shoulder. Ensign Eve Almera was gray of hair and steady of mind and hand, but the ever-present, ever-calm fixture of multiple starships was shaking slightly as she tried unsuccessfully to hide the tears forming in her eyes.

With a suppressed gulp of empathy and worry, Almera stood aside, handing over the tissue knitter to Asa. “I….I tried Doctor. I….I did my best.”

“I know you did,” Asa said, suppressing a shudder of their own as they took in Damodred’s vitals. “She would already be dead if it weren’t for you. Go grab yourself a glass of water, ok? Take five minutes and then I want you helping with the Class C cases, ok?”

Without waiting for the “Aye” in response, Asa set about trying to complete the debris extraction. They spared a reassuring smile for Almera as she left, and waived down Nurse Vines as she finished closing the patient she had been working on with the EMH.

“I need her over here,” Dael called to the EMH as he was on his way to the other remaining Class A patient. He nodded understanding and continued on his way.

“OK Caroline, I’m going to try and ease your pain to start, then we are going to complete extracting this debris from your skin. I know you can’t talk right now, so blink twice if you need me to stop. If you need my attention, blink three times. Can you blink three times to show me you understood?”

Caroline Damodred showed her courage, clear eyes blinking three times in understanding. Small piteous whimpers escaped her as Asa slowly, painfully removed the tattered remains of first one sleeve, then another. Her shirt peeled off largely without incident, and Asa was disinfecting as they went, doing a preliminary round 1 of tissue regeneration, knowing that doing too much at once on injuries of this nature would cause the patient to go into shock and possibly perish.

Vimes was applying soothing, healing balm as Asa moved on to removing the pants from Damodred’s legs. There was a large piece of glass sticking out near the femoral artery that would need to be addressed first, and Asa prepared to remove it.

“Caroline, I’m doing all I can for your pain levels. I know they must be intense, but I have to also make sure your blood pressure and heart rate do not fall too much. I’m about to remove a large, foreign body from near your femoral artery. I know it’s hard, but if you can avoid it, I need you to not move,” Asa said in a steady, calm tone.

Thank the heavens for ‘doctor voice’. Making patients feel confident even when we aren’t since the first doctor used it. Asa mused internally, trying to project confidence and competence when all they wanted to do was run and hide.

Caroline blinked three times, indicating she understood and was ready. In one fluid motion, Asa withdrew the glass shard and healed the bleeding artery before too much blood could be lost. Even so, Caroline’s skin would have been pale if it had not been burned from losing a near fatal amount of blood.

“I need IV blood and fluids, stat,” Asa called to Vimes, knowing she would move quickly to fill the order. “And hook up the nanobot scrubbers to remove debris and foreign bodies from her blood stream too please, can’t be too careful.”


Asa looked at Caroline, horrified to see her blinking twice, then pausing, then blinking twice again. Over and over. She was screaming STOP and Asa hadn’t even noticed.

“Oh gods, Caroline, I’m so sorry. We have stopped what we can, but I need you to let Nurse Vimes start this IV.”

After receiving three blinks to indicate understanding, Vimes began gingerly starting the IV line. At first all seemed to be going well. Damodred’s blood pressure was stabilizing, her body temperature was high but not increasing, and her breathing was normalizing. The nanobot scrubbers were removing internal debris from her bloodstream and Asa was slowly working with a tissue knitter to abrade and clean Caroline’s wrecked skin when the alarms above the biobed all began flashing and the patient began wildly thrashing.

“Shit!” Asa exclaimed, rushing to deliver an anti-convulsant and sedative to stop Caroline from moving any further and exacerbating her wounds. Frantically reading the PaDD sending info from the nanobots, Asa quickly understood the cause. The burst of radiation from the failed terrorist Asa intercepted was not enough to injure a healthy person…..but it was just enough to cause weakening of the arterial walls and arterial adventitia’s in an already wounded and bleeding (and therefore more exposed) Damodred.

The nanobots, not being programmed to adapt to radiation damage, had operated at full strength and in the process of extricating micro-debris had completely punctured the veins of Caroline’s femoral and carotid arteries in hundreds of places, causing a sudden and dramatic increase in internal bleeding. Meanwhile, Damodred’s adventitia was no longer able to secure any of her veins to their connective tissues, causing muscle spasms and shutting down her immune system while sending her blood pressure to spike and fall erratically.

“I need mediatic trigenerated stem cells stat!,” Asa began calling out orders, sensing the bustle of their staff rushing to help. Looking over their shoulder, Asa spotted the EMH and said, “Doctor, radiation remediation on all patients, starting with class A, pass the word to everyone please.”

Meanwhile Caroline had begun to vomit and Nurse Vimes reacted quickly, turned her to her side to help her avoid choking. Unfortunately the movement involved touching her plasma burned skin and Damodred let out a scream of pain in response. With no time left for the slow pace Asa would have preferred, the doctor moved to inject the stem cells that Carrott had reappeared to proffer. The young officer looked grim, clearly his time waiting for the Trill man to die had worn on him, but his face also held a resolve to do all he could for everyone he served.

“Carrott, Vimes- this is going to be ugly. I have to inject her directly in each affected artery, starting with the carotid. Hold her still.” Receiving nods of understanding, Asa continued, sliding the needle into Caroline’s bleeding neck. Bracing for the worst, Dael deployed the stem cells, holding their breath waiting for them to work.

The horrid beeping above the biobed increased in frequency as Damodred’s blood tried to process both the stem cell infusion and to flush out the now-defunct and disarmed nanobots. The pain relief and sedatives were no longer having any effect and only Carrott’s considerable strength was holding the still-vomiting woman to the biobed. Even during the tumult, Dael had continued working with tissue knitter, tricorder and a bevy of other tools, switching between them as fast as they could while being careful to avoid any further damage. Vimes was keeping the IV’s filled with replacement blood and fluids, trying to keep the young officer from bleeding out internally while the doctor worked.

Unfortunately, there are times when even 24th Century medicine is lacking. It was at precisely 23:48 and 18 seconds that Ensign Caroline Damodred, beloved daughter, rising engineer, soccer player, friend, and one-time spelling bee champion shuddered one last time, let forth a horrible gurgle, and died.

Hands shaking, Asa stood over their former patient. It was too much. The entire day had been too much. Now…a promising young life cut short because of the idiocy of the greedy and vindictive. Feeling like a complete failure, Asa collapsed in a nearby chair and rested head in hands, waiting for the shaking to stop.

There is no time for this, Dael. Get up. Quit being an idiot and lead these people the nasty voice in their mind screamed at them. After taking a deep breath, the doctor began to rise when a pale and worried Nurse Vimes pulled up the nearby chair and drew a privacy panel across the area, concealing both Asa’s shaking form and Damodred’s now still one.

Vimes reached out, gently raising Asa’s chin to force them to make eye contact and then clasping their combined hands together tightly.

“Doc….Asa….sweetheart….Well, I’m going to take a chance at insubordination and just talk to you, person to person right now,” she began.

Seeing no protest at her words, the nurse continued, “Sweetheart, you did all you could. That poor girl didn’t have much of a chance to start with. You did everything you could. And we are going to take the time to mourn her. You and I together. We are going to mourn properly. But Asa, we gotta keep going right now. So here’s what we are going to do. We are going to count to 10 – aloud- together. Then we are going to give each other a hug, then drop this privacy screen and I am going to help Caroline find somewhere to rest until her final arrangements can be made, and you are going to do what you do best- get out there and help people. Fair?”

Her voice had the melodious yet firm quality of a good teacher, or perhaps a mother. It sparked something inside Asa’s memories of maternal authority, spurring them to follow her suggestions. Nodding to show they understood, Asa began the count.

“1…..2……,” the pair intoned together. Upon reaching 10 they both stood and embraced. Although Asa knew Vimes was correct, there was a Sickbay full of people needing help, they indulged in letting the hug linger a few extra seconds. Taking a deep breath, Dael put their “doctor face” back on, dropped the privacy screen and got back to work.

It took another 16 hours of continuous work to treat all the waiting patients, and a stream of injured crew continued to flow in for an hour or so after the last blow in the space battle was delivered. Fortunately none had injuries near as severe as the ones Asa had already treated that day and all were eventually released, whole and healed in body. Nonetheless, Asa could not shake the feeling that the final bell had not rung on this bout of calamities.

PRESENT DAY

Snapping back from melancholic reverie, Asa was surprised to see only a few minutes had passed. Some days Asa found hours could pass before they “snapped out of it”. Ever since that night they had a feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. They knew something horrible was coming, but not how to stop it.

Of course, if one is looking for bad news, one only ever has to wait so long before one is bound to receive it.

Ensign Carrott came rushing through the door to Asa’s office, his bright face redder than usual and he was panting as if he had been doing heavy labor.

“John….why are you here? Weren’t you off an hour ago? Is everything ok?” Asa said in alarm, moving to cross their office in a few steps and join Carrott in Sickbay proper.

“Huh? What?” Carrott said, taking a moment for his brain to catch up to the conversation, “Oh, right. No, it’s not me, it’s Nichole from next door. We heard a bang and came running, but she was passed out of the floor…..face down.”

He said the last with a note of finality and concern. Petty Officer Nichole Rua was one week away from her due date, and the usually plump human was now about to pop. Her laying on her stomach would not have been comfortable, and with any fall carried a risk of harm to the baby.

The petty officer was unconscious on a biobed, her heartrate low and a small trickle of blood coming out of her nose. Carrott’s breathing was returning to normal as he continued, “Anyway….well, I carried her here as fast as I could. Want me to call up the people on her birthing plan?”

With a small smile at Carrott’s kind hearted nature, Asa gave their assent and began assessing what may have gone wrong. Pulling up Rua’s records, Asa noted the small blood clots that had been forming in Rua’s brain on her scans. They had been dissolved every time they were caught, but the cause had remained idiopathic. The best either Asa or the EMH had been able to come up with was the DNA from the father of the child must have caused the fetus to develop characteristics that were not compatible with the mother’s body. While cerebral blood clots were a hitherto unknown complication of multi-species pregnancies, it was a big universe and anything really could happen.

The parentage of Rua’s child was more a mystery than her symptomology. Rua had said not a word about who the father was, simply leaving it as “He was a bullheaded man.” Asa had not wanted to push, but was secretly infuriated that none of the tests they had performed had given any inclination as to the child’s biology beyond “humanoid”. Even the scans they had tried to perform came back clouded…..when they came back at all. There was a disturbing habit for any images taken of the fetus to come back completely blank, as if blackout curtains had been drawn across Nicole’s womb.

A bleary eyed Nurse Almera staggered into Sickbay, trailing an even more bleary eyed Nurse Vimes. The two patron matrons of Sickbay had been resting from their last shift when called back in a mere 2 hours after getting off work. Asa considered asking them if they would like to be dismissed and use the staff on duty for the delivery, but they knew the two women would be offended at the suggestion. Besides, they had formed a unique bond with the expectant Rua, sharing secrets after hours and comforting her through the hardest parts of being pregnant alone.

“Hello ladies,” Asa called in greeting, “I’m getting started now……” Asa trailed off, looking at their tricorder a moment, hitting it against the side of their hand, and scanning again. When the reading came back the same, Asa picked up another tricorder and scanned again. Upon checking the reading, they slowly placed the tool down as the color drained from their face.

“She….she had an aneurism burst. A…a big one. The damage is…..significant. We need to begin an emergency cesarean right now.” Dael’s tone was shaken, their worst fears were coming true. The other shoe was dropping.

Sickbay was immediately a whirlwind of activity; Almera and Vimes were removing Rua’s clothing to prepare for surgery as Carrott called his wife to update her on what was going on. Asa overheard a yelp of surprise from Mrs. Carrott…..a lovely woman who was due to delivery soon herself and been looking forward to raising her child side by side with Nicole.

After a calming breath, Asa approached the biobed. Rua was prepped and ready for surgery, but had shown no reactivity through the process of getting her undressed and in position. No one had said anything yet, but Asa knew the entire medical staff knew what the flat line on the brain activity monitoring line meant. Hoping against hope they were wrong, the doctor set about removing the remainder of the blood clot from the petty officer’s brain and restoring proper circulation through the entire neruo-cortex. Still that damn line would not budge. Carrott said nothing but moved to sit next to Rua, holding her hand with a look of grim determination on his face.

“I’m….I’m not leaving her, Lieutenant,” he said to Dael.

He never calls me Lieutenant. He knows how bad this is and is ready to go to battle with me if needed to so he can stand by his friend. Good for him. Asa thought.

“Of course you aren’t,” Dael responded gently. “I just need you to remember you are here as a friend and to not interfere with the operation unless asked, ok?”

Receiving a nod of understanding, Dael continued working. The scans of the infant were blank, leaving Asa to ascertain the child’s heartbeat with an old-fashioned stethoscope. Feeling anachronistic, they listened closely and found the heartbeat to be much higher than expected. By palpating Rua’s abdomen Asa felt a great deal of activity and something…….sharp? What was going on in there?

Turning to Vimes and Almera, Asa performatively cracked their knuckles and set about administering pain blockers and sedatives……just in case Rua were to wake up during the procedure. Silently, Nurse Almera handed the tissue separator to Asa, followed by the paralysizing hypospray that served to help recently-seized muscles relax. After clearing the abdominal dermis and tissues Asa began to cut into the muscles of Rua’s lower abdomen slowly. The petty officer’s fall onto her stomach had caused some severe bruising. There were strange punctures in the abdominal wall, as if small dull knives had poked Rua from the inside. After seeing a gush of blood begin from inside Rua’s uterus Asa’s heart skipped a beat as a wave of dread washed over them.

The room was too quiet from then on. Somehow the ambient noises seemed to have sensed the mood in the room and conspired to fall silent all at once. There was only the sound of Asa asking for various tools while working to clear a passage for Rua’s child to emerge from her too-still form.

“I have encountered a thickened placenta covering the entire form of the child. This may be what was stopping our scans, cutting into the tissue now and will save a portion for further study later. Nurses, please store all tissues for future study later also. We may need to clone some of the cells at a later date to treat the child if parentage remains unknown.”

“Aye Doctor,” both nurses chimed in unison.

The thick, viscous material gave way to Dael’s laser scalpel and the doctor reached in to extricate their newest charge. Expecting the supple yet sticky feel of human infant flesh, Asa had to squash down a reaction to recoil instinctively upon feeling……..fur? Reaching in with a second hand, the doctor moved their dominant hand to cradle what had to be the babes head and introduced this new life to the harsh light of existence.

“Is that…..?” Nurse Vimes began to ask, face shocked at what she was seeing.

“A minotaur,” Asa said flatly, voice grim. They did not know how Rua had come to be pregnant with a Minotaur, but they had a few ideas…..none of them good. There would be time for that later though, right now they had patients to save.

After taking a moment to come to their senses, Asa continued their previous sentence.

“A minotaur that is an innocent, has harmed no one, and is our patient. Clearing airway now.”

With that, Asa reached down to clear the nose and mouth of the…..little girl it would seem…..and thumped her lightly on the back, resulting in an ear-splitting roar instead of a cry, followed by a much quieter cough and then a few burbling cries much more familiar to the sound of the assembled medics.

“Let’s get Nicole closed up. Nurse Almera, I want some skin to sk-, well, skin to fur contact. Touch after birth is incredibly important, and we are going to do this right, yes?” Seeing the resolve in Almera’s and Vimes eyes, Asa knew they could trust the two professionals to not let any preconceptions against Minotaur’s stop them from providing excellent care.

“Carrott, I know you are not on duty, but I need you to call Commander Paris. I would, but I’m kinda up to my arms over here, ok?” Asa said softly to a stunned Carrott.

“Right…um, doing now,” Carrott said weakly. While still holding Rua’s hand with his left, he used his right hand to type out a message to the Commander to please come to sickbay as soon as possible.

Well I meant on the comms, but whatever, he’s in shock Asa thought.

Almera had placed the cleaned babe on Rua’s chest and was holding them both in place. Everyone in Sick Bay was hoping against hope that somehow this would be the miracle to wake up the petty officer. While closing the incision, Asa focused on sending their energy into the woman the way they had once called a dying Sam back from the brink. Where Sam had been lost in his head, Asa felt nothing here. It was as if their energy was flowing into empty Space. Nothing they sent out seemed to stir anything in the core of the new mother.

As the tissue knitter whirred to close Rua’s abdomen the biobed began beeping in alarm. Blood clots were forming and bursting rapidly, as if removing the child and placenta had caused Rua’s blood to attack itself. Over and over Asa administered blood thinners, just to watch Rua’s blood continue to thicken, moving from clots to turning to outright sludge.

“Carrott, I need you to get the baby off her, ok?” Asa said, trusting Carrott to understand the urgency.

The red headed man rushed in, picking up the baby and managed to poke himself in the eye with a tiny horn. Nevertheless, he was soon rubbing her furry little back and singing a reassuring song to the mewling growls he was trying to soothe.

Perfect form. He’s supporting her neck, holding her over his heart, using low tones like would have been heard in utero. The man may be an anxious mess, but he’s a natural father Asa mused.

On the table, the biobed was flashing several alarms as the oxygen slowly left Rua’s blood. Moving at lightning fast speed, Asa administered 18 different medications, each one in response to a different system that was failing. Endocrine shut down, heart attack, stroke, three additional aneurisms…..Rua’s body kept failing, one system after another.

Vimes and Almera worked heroically, offering solutions, moving to help, massaging limbs to keep blood moving, pumping breastmilk to prepare for the future, and carefully putting placenta and other tissue samples in a stasis box. It was a matter of time though, and everyone was avoiding putting word to what they knew was coming.

After being worked on for over an hour, Rua’s body had finally had enough. Her heart quit pumping, her blood became still, her lungs stopped and her brainwaves showed no response to any stimuli. Looking sadly at the poor woman, Asa said quietly, “Time of Death 2218.”

“No!” Carrott yelled, still carefully holding the babe, but running quickly to Asa’s side. “You can’t let her die! She wanted this child so much! She would want to be here! This isn’t right!”

Tears flowing freely, Asa said softly, “Carrott, there isn’t anything we can do. She’s gone. We have to be this child’s family now.”

After a brief pause, Asa asked, “John, did you call the Commander? She usually wouldn’t take this long to respond.”

Ears turning the color of his hair, the young man said, “I, um, I forgot to press send. I’ll call her now….”

Patting the distraught man on the shoulder, Asa walked to their office. Door closed, they collapsed in their chair to wait for the Commander, hearing the voice of Nana Yihawn echoing in their head.

“Death and disaster comes in threes. Be careful thee does not summon three times three unto thee, for in the completion of one cycle is the birth of the next.”

14 Baronesses
----------------
Baroness Schwein Von Alcott 2nd class - Loyal to a fault
Baroness Mnhei'sahe Dox 5th class - Member of the USS Hera crew
Baroness Sarika 3rd class - Rescued by Enalia during a Syndicate slaver raid, cybernetic arms from the elbows down full of weaponry, science specialized, fiercely loyal to Enalia
Baroness Sienae Nei'rrh 3rd class - Leader of the Romulan Refugee Corps - need Jaeih Dox to convince them to not support the Queen
Baroness Merinda von Stolina 1st class - Loyal to the family and will sit this out
Baroness Bloody Batra 1st class - will support whomever lets her kill more Syndicate
Baroness Snodarss 4th class - a drunken mining capitalist - Runs her own brewery and will likely side with Enalia because Freedom
Baroness Frederica von Grelica 4th class - Rescued by Enalia's sister and loyal to Enalia
Baroness Flora Tyrell 3rd class - old as dirt but shrewd, not the biggest fleet but a long term strategist and will play her cards close till the end
Baroness Lilly Von Schtupp 4th class - Runs a series of interstellar whorehouses and information networks
Baroness Marelith- half Caitian, half Trill cyberpirate with 2 additional cybernetic arms on each side. Believes strongly in the letter of the law, stickler for parliamentary procedure. Neutral but easily swayed based on evidence
Baroness Garan fourth class - Old guard deeply on the side of the Queen
Baroness Terethis third class - Old guard deeply on the side of the Queen
Baroness Mirana fourth class - Caitian with an eye patch and a peg leg, deeply devoted to the Princess

Current Tally
------------------
Queen - 3
Princess - 6
Abstain - 1
Undecided - 4

Need 10 of 14 or it goes to a duel

-=Tribunal=-
we do some investigation posts
Enalia goes over her plans to completely legitimize the Artans as privateers
then in the tribunal, we show up in our starfleet dress uniforms, having informed our allies beforehand
present our evidence
confirm that our anti-malware software has been spread around to our allies at the very least
demand that Arenara step down and submit herself to Starfleet custody
she refuses, goes mad, makes a big stink
we get like 12 votes right then and there
her and her two lackey baronesses blast their way out and we go after them in the Hera
while the rest of the fleet tackle the rogue baronesses, we go after mommy dearest

then the crew get some shore leave while Enalia handles Artan paperwork and the transfer of power to her successor
Jaeih is kidnapped


OOC
-----------------

Tick. Tick. Ti-

“That’s enough of you,” Asa said to the grandfather clock in their office as they pulled the pin that stopped the clock from operating. The day had not gone well in Sickbay, resulting in the death of Petty Officer Nicole Rua and the birth of a brand new baby Minotaur. Said Minotaur was currently being cooed at by Ensign and Nurse John Carrott as he nervously paced the length of Sickbay waiting for the arrival of Commander Paris.

Rua had been moved to a secure area to be examined later. Although it was Asa’s least favorite duty, autopsy and examination of the petty officer may provide valuable clues as to what precisely transpired to cause her death. Ensigns Vimes and Almera were returning to their quarters, bleary-eyed from tears shed over the loss of their crewmate and friend.

Debating grabbing a coffee but opting for kava tea instead, Asa sat behind their desk and let their head thump heavily onto the wooden surface. The artificial gravity felt too strong, the day too long, and their strength too small. Commander Paris would be here soon, and it would be time to be an Officer. But for this moment…..they were just a small, sad person frustrated at their inability to change Rua’s fate.

But it was not Commander Paris that showed up, but Captain Telvan that entered Doctor Dael's office with a soft knock on the door frame. "Knock knock. I heard you've had an interesting and stressful evening and since Commander Paris just left on her away mission... That's why I'm here instead."

“Aye Captain,” Dael responded softly, raising their head slowly as they rose to properly greet the woman they felt they were about to disappoint.

“Please, have a seat,” the doctor continued, pointing to a nearby chair on the other side of the desk.

As the Captain went to take her seat, Asa walked around the desk and took the seat directly next to the Captain. They no longer had the energy to speak loud enough to confidently project to the other side of the room, and the young El-Aurian felt the need to physically be near someone. Professional decorum barred them from collapsing altogether, but they allowed themself this small indulgence.

Looking Enalia directly in the eyes, Asa spoke slowly and solemnly.

“It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that Petty Officer Nicole Rua entered mortality earlier this evening. She was found collapsed in her quarters by Ensign Carrott, who rushed her to Sickbay for treatment. I discovered a large aneurysm that burst in her cerebral cortex, and as we worked to treat her and deliver her child she experienced further aneurysms and massive organ failures as her blood turned to sludge. I hypothesize this to be an adverse reaction from carrying a child parented in part by a different species. As she refused to share the species of the child’s father with us, I cannot know for sure but an investigation in ongoing.”

Taking a breath to steady themself before continuing, Asa sensed the question in the air as to why they would call Command over a medical issue. After sneaking a quick sip of tea, the doctor continued.

“The investigation will hopefully also reveal how the child is at least part, if not in full, a Minotaur. And a female Minotaur as well, which I did not know existed prior to tonight. I do not know if this was a result of Hera’s direct interaction or indirect interference from her domain. Or not Hera at all. Honestly Captain, I don’t know much other than we have an orphaned Minotaur on board that Ensign Carrott is currently feeding in an ancillary room. He and his wife have asked me if they can adopt the child. They grew quite close with Rua during her pregnancy, and I don’t believe she has any other family. I….I haven’t had a chance to check yet for her final directive. I’m….I’m just so sorry Captain. We…we did everything we could, but she just……she just slipped away…..”

Treasonous tears were filling Asa’s eyes, so they stopped speaking but not before one errant teardrop ran across their cheek.

Enalia wasn't too good with feelings herself, but she knew better than to let someone cry like that. She rounded the desk and gently pulled Asa into a hug and let them rest their head on her prodigious bosom. It wasn't quite as bountiful as Rita's but it was bountiful nonetheless and she hoped it would be comforting in times like this. "There there, let it all out. These things happen. For now, let's not worry about the why and just be glad that there's a new life in this galaxy and that there's someone out there willing to show her all the love she needs, ok? I think that's what Nicole would want. For us to rejoice in the miracle of new life no matter what."

Returning the embrace with aplomb, Asa allowed their head to rest on the Captain and let the decorum they tried so hard to maintain to fall away. After a few moments of letting the tears fall, Asa drew their head up and made eye contact with Enalia, thankful for the chance to recover.

"Aye Captain," they began, voice growing a bit more steady with each word. "We will need to check and see what Rua's final directives were, but for now at least John will take care of the babe. I thought our research indicated all Minotaur's of Hera were male....so how did we wind up with a female? Do we need to worry about the security of the ship? Hera hasn't seemed like her old self when I spoke with her, but I must have been wrong....." Asa's voice trailed off, filled with worry their friend Hera may not have been who they thought she was.

The captain shook her head lightly. "No, from what research we've done, Hera and Poseidon both used minotaurs but they were all male. The only time a female popped up in research..."

"Was when my husband, Zeus, was involved..." came the voice of the matronly goddess from the door of the small office. Hera had pleaded with her guards that she needed to speak with Doctor Dael and they had escorted her there on her orders it seemed. "Sorry for the intrusion. The energies flowing around the ship when I woke up... I should have realized it sooner. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Please, have a seat," Asa said, pointing to an empty chair before returning to their own.

Taking a deep breath, Asa ran their hands through their hair, leaving it sticking up at odd angles.

"My apologies for any suspicions Lady Hera. I imagine this is difficult for you also," Dael began.

"Its... it's not been a great evening. I should have pressed harder for the parentage. If I had known Rua was carrying a demigod, perhaps I could have aided her better. I...I dont know why she didn't trust us," they concluded.

After a brief pause, a question occurred to the doctor, "Is he likely to claim the child do you think?"

Hera slipped into the offered seat elegantly, also shaking her head slightly. "He never has before. In the past, the only way I've been able to get him to pay attention to one of his bastard children is to send them on some harrowing journey that he has to help them on to survive. Alas, I fear I am unable to and disinclined to do so any longer."

The captain also returned to her seat, a thoughtful look on her face. "So all those stories of you taking out your vengeance for Zeus' indiscretions on his offspring is..."

"Oh, there's some truth to it, of course," Hera replied with a bit of a sheepish grin. "But, it was more I was angry at their deadbeat father to learn to stop having one night stands with everything from sentients to lamp posts and leaving them alone with child, never taking responsibility."

Slumping a bit in their chair, Asa pinched the bridge of their nose for a moment. After typing into a PaDD quickly they looked up and said "It looks like Carrott may get his wish then... Rua never specified a guardian in the event of her death. She has no next of kin, and with no one else to claim the child......" they trailed off, letting the unspoken question hang in the air for the Captain.

Enalia held out her hands in defeat. "Well, with no family or plan in place... And we have a willing and able family ready to adopt her... I have no objections. The only issue I can come up with is that we don't know how to raise a baby Minotaur in the first place."

"I can help with that, actually," the matronly goddess interjected. "They're not so different from normal babies, but they'll need more protein and iron, preferably from red meat from the age of two. They'll also grow faster if encouraged to do so. Those that were in my armies tended to be in their twenties, but often died of old age in their fifties because of this. I'll write down everything I can about it for you."

"Thank you, Hera," Asa said, with a slight bow of their head in respect, "Although I imagine we will want her to grow at a speed that won't damage her life-span. Also, the Carrott's have a child on the way....they should be delivering in another month or so. There won't be any aggression issues will there? Beyond what is normal for sibling rivalry, that is?"

"Ah... If I remember right, female minotaurs tended towards docility and peaceful endeavors. The great Mierdra was a diplomat on Mount Olympus and brokered peace between us and Asgard with a creme brulee so delicious Odin himself..." Hera had to cut that story short and stop herself from drooling, bringing herself back to the present. "But no, sibling rivalry aside, she should be more inclined towards more peaceful arts."

Letting out a sigh they didn't know they had been holding in, Asa said a touch more brightly, "Well thank goodness for that. I look forward to learning about what to expect, I imagine we two will be working together on that one. Captain, would you like to give the good news to Carrott, or should I?"

The captain didn't have to think it over long. "I think in this case, you have jurisdiction. However, you have my full support and if you need support for however you want to tell the Carrotts, I'm here for you."

"Aye, Captain. I...I think I can handle delivering some good news. Goodness knows we've had our share of bad today. By your leave?" they concluded, waiting for permission to go and speak with the man who was about to officially become a father.

After receiving a nod of permission from the Captain, Dael went to the ancillary room where Carrott was still rocking the Minotaur child, his very pregnant wife now with him.

"Well," Asa began, "What are you going to name her?"

Enalia was in one of the lounges on the edge of the Hera's saucer waiting for some of the allies of the Artan family to be brought aboard to conclude some negotiations she'd been working on since the close of the Tribunal, sipping at some black coffee and staring out the large bay windows at the fortress. Thankfully the timeline had been stabilized for now and it was once again the glorious jewel in the sky she had grown up on. The downside was that random time quakes were still happening and the away team had yet to return, which meant they still had to catch Mudd.

As she brought the mug to her lips again, the red alert klaxon went off and the room around her suddenly shifted into that of a steel and polished aluminum look, the klaxon taking on a harsher tone to it. The view outside was the same and the reflection of the ship on the outer shell of the fortress was still that of the USS Hera... though parts of the ship no longer reflected right...

"Telvan to the bridge, what's going on?" There was no response. She headed to the lounge display panels and tapped at them, but other than displaying a schematic of a Crossfield class ship and the name USS Hera, it was unhelpful. The Trill captain headed to the door to see if she could get back to the rest of the ship, but even though the door opened, there was some sort of temporal anomaly on the other side and poking it with her coffee mug proved disastrous to it.

"Well then..."

That was when a petite woman's voice spoke up from the other side of the room. "Oh my! Everyone is going to be latelatelate! You need to catch that foul beast or I'll be unraveled at this rate!" Standing there was the most curious person Enalia had seen in... Well, ever. She was a five foot tall humanoid dressed in a white sexy bunny outfit with bunny ears that actually twitched and seemed to be a part of her, and a ragged top hat with a tag in the band that read 10/6. She was looking at a rather over sized and ornate pocket watch that had more hands than Enalia cared to count. Her eyes were one of the more mesmerizing parts of her. One was silver with a normal white and iris and the other was completely black with what looked like watch gears moving inside of it.

"Excuse me? Who might you be?" Enalia asked, not sure what to make of this development now.

"Oh, no, excuse me." Putting the watch away in some mysterious pocket that didn't seem to exist in the skin tight outfit, the mysterious person popped off her hat and bowed elegantly. "I am the White Rabbit, keeper of time and the bearer of gravity. Or is it? Oh, never mind it all. I'll just stick with brevity. You must be asking why I am here of all places before you. It is because someone has disrupted the universal glue. Your people are on the job already, repairing the continuum, but there's someone you need to meet that's in a conundrum."

Enalia shook her head to try and clear it. Whomever this woman was, it was messing with her sense of clarity and she didn't like it. "Ok, before I go anywhere with you, I need a few more answers and proof. First off, how do I even know you're friendly?"

The woman thought on this a moment, tapping a finger to her lips. "A friend and her horse call her home next to yours. Death and Taxes are but two of the inescapable beings in this universe. As for who you go to meet, it is muchly more yourself. A future you three lives from the current that feels less herself."

The spotted woman shook her head in exasperation and threw up her hands in defeat. "Fine, I concede. I've seen enough of this deific mumbo-jumbo to know when I'm outclassed. Besides, who knows... I might learn something. Just promise me you'll bring me home to the right place in space-time afterwards?"

The White Rabbit stepped forward and booped Enalia on the nose with a wide toothy grin. "Done."

No sooner had the word been spoken than she found herself in a study filled with old books, the White Rabbit quietly standing beside her and motioning for her to move further into the study. As she did so, she found a young Trill woman asleep at a large, book covered desk. She now recognized this place. This was one of the studies allowed to the final selection candidates after pre-selection but before final selection. Looking up in surprise at the woman that had brought her here, all she got was a smile at first.

Then the White Rabbit spoke. "She will not know you, nor will she know this as anything other than a dream. She will need your help to rise to the top of the cream." And with that, she faded softly into the shadows, barely perceptible to Enalia and likely invisible to anyone else.

Enalia took a moment to steel herself before reaching out to rouse the young woman.

With a start, the young Trill shot awake at Enalia's touch. "Aaaah! Awake. I'm... What?"

Sitting back and rubbing her bleary looking, slightly bloodshot eyes, it was clear that she had passed out from the exhaustion of her studies as she seemed barely awake now that the initial shock had passed.

She was a slight of a girl. Thin and almost plain, especially compared to the almost bombastic Captain. She had shoulder length brown hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and wide, curious, but sad eyes. "W... Who are you? Are you with the Symbiosis Commission?"

Chuckling softly, Enalia pulled out a chair and sat down with a soft smile. She recognized the look in the young girl's eyes and had an idea why she was here. "No, I'm just an old traveller passing through. You looked like you could use a friend so here I am."

Looking at the statuesque woman with the Raven black hair in a uniform she was far too removed to recognize, the young Trill seemed confused and more that a little stressed. "Uh... Thanks, I suppose. Um..."

Still groggy and trying to get her bearings, the young hopeful looked down at the stacks of dusty old tomes in front of her as a visible wave of concern landed on her face "What I need is a miracle. I... I really need to study or I'm going to be dropped from the program, I just know it."

"It looks like you're studying for final selection for symbiosis. I remember those days." The Trill captain picked up one of the older tomes and flipped through it. The Treatises of the Symbiotes and Initial Joinings had been mandatory reading and she still had a lot of it memorized. And I bet you've got yourself a real hardass for a field docent. I did too, but I think I still impressed him."

Setting the book aside, Enalia leaned forward and grinned her signature lopsided grin. "So... Care for some words of advice and encouragement? I can answer some questions as well."

The frazzled young woman looked up at Enalia with an almost incredulous expression. "What advice could some perfect looking woman give me that would help. I'm pathetic." The sheepish young woman muttered as she ran a hand through her hair and nodded slightly.

"I mean... I don't know what could help me at the point. But... please." There was an aire of both desperation and depression about the young woman.

"Pfft... Perfect..." Enalia paused a moment, the sudden burdens of the commands she had had to give over the years weighing heavily on her, staring down at her hands sadly for a moment before continuing. "No, no one is perfect. I just look that way on the outside because I'm good at hiding it all."

"Anyway, they've expected you to memorize all these materials and documents... They've told you the basic science of it all. Right?"

Getting a nod, Enalia pressed on. "But unless things have changed since I went through the process, they forgot to tell you that you need your own life goals and dreams and a personality of your own. Otherwise the symbiont will overpower you and you'll be confused and lost for the rest of your life. The goal of symbiosis for the symbiont is to have as many different life experiences as possible, as opposed to the host who is looking for... Well, everyone's reasons are different, I suppose. The confidence of lifetimes is one benefit."

"When I faced my field docent, the first thing I said to them was 'I don't care about you or your opinions of me. I'm going to be a Starfleet Captain with or without the joining.' We sat down and the old man and I had a talk about my future goals and aspirations. In the end, he must have decided I was worth the time, because I was chosen. He never once asked me about any of the things I had studied to get to that point."

The younger Trill initiate shuffled in her seat as the elder Captain spoke. As she listened, she was nervously tapping on the edge of the large, ornate wooden desk. "Starfleet? Yeah... my... I don't think my docent is all that impressed with what I want to do."

Fidgeting, the young woman could barely make eye contact with Enalia. "It's nothing... important. Not like that. My Mother's hoping that symbiosis will... will give me ambition so I'll 'grow up' and decide to do something that she thinks is important instead of... But... I just want to... Well, it's like you said. It's about experience, right? You gain experience from the symbiote and it gains those experiences from you. So, that would just make me... I could be better. Get better and maybe have more to say with..." Then her tone shifted slightly more melancholy. "It's... not important."

The elder Trill nodded knowingly, her own melancholy expression matching the younger woman's. "My mother wanted me to take over the family business and be like her, ruthlessly ruling the privateer lanes. I betrayed her, ran off to Starfleet, and instead of having a fleet of ships, a mining colony, the easy life... Relatively... I spent my life as the captain of a single ship for Intel Command, running around and putting out fires that no one will ever know about."

"As for growing up? You don't get that from the symbiont. That comes from within you. More experience? I'm the first host so I can't really say one way or another. No added experience for me other than the memories of swimming in the underground spawning pools, which faded pretty quick. Subsequent hosts will have my lifetime of experiences to pull wisdom from though. Does it make you a better person?"

Enalia leaned back and thought on the question for a moment, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out before replying. "I think overall... Eventually... I'm a better person for it. But the joining isn't something magic. It's more like... Finding your soulmate and they're within you. If you can take the responsibility for your own future, whatever it may be, and can bear the responsibility of the symbiote as well... You'll have the past and future of two races behind you to support you in whatever you decide. That little voice in your belly encouraging you can go a long way."

My mother wants me to go into politics like her. She's an ambassador and I guess that's important. But I... kinda hate... talking to people." The young Trill replied with a chuckle. She fidgeted a bit more as she pondered saying more before working up the nerve. "She hates it, but I've never wanted to do anything else. And... I... I got accepted into the Aldebaran Music Academy. I've been playing piano since I was a little girl. I... I can play the piano, ceremonial bells. Cello. Even Klingon drums. I love it all."

A slight smile cracked the nervous young girls face. "Joining... There's always been a part of me that... I don't know if this makes sense, but the idea of joining always meant like... having a million more stories to express in my music. Or, like you said, that soul mate that understands. Maybe just an audience of one that meant that whatever I did would be passed on to the next host and keep going. That seems... that seems like a good thing to me. I don't know." She was suddenly embarrassed and began scratching the spots on the side of her head.

"That sounds like a beautiful life goal," Enalia replied, grinning from ear to ear. "Growing up I learned how to play the harp and the vandolin, but I was never that good at them. My wife is amazing with just about any instrument though. But her goals lied elsewhere, so she's a masseuse and rare items broker. She says she enjoys playing people more than instruments, but I think she just gets off on... Ahem..."

Blushing slightly, Enalia cleared her throat and held her fist in front of her mouth a moment before continuing. "Music is a noble and worthy goal. Being joined will certainly help with that, but you'll want to get out and live your life as well.

At which point, the young Trill's smile cracked a little wider as she hadn't spoke to many people that encouraged her dreams. "I love the harp. Haven't learned that yeet, though. But, yeah. I mean. You have to live your life if you want to have something to make music about, right?"

Then her tone shifted back to being a little pensive again. "I... I told my docent all of this, but I can't tell if he thinks I'm an idiot or not. And I think I'm... afraid to ask."

"I've been a docent a time or two... And I'm pretty sure they won't tell you until after they've written their report. That's how most operate, anyway." The elder Trill grinned again. "I might have been a bit more encouraging and inquisitive in my decisions, but generally if the person had hopes and dreams of their own and had a way of doing it without the symbiont as well... Then the answer was yes."

"As for you, if you've already discussed all this with them and already made an impression, you should be practicing your music. You have to worry about the Aldebaran Music Academy too, you know! What are you doing studying this crap for? At this point it won't help you in the selection. If you aren't selected, you won't need it. If you are, your prior hosts will have it all memorized and you'll be able to recite every page from memory... And you still won't need it until you're a docent!"

Chuckling lightly, the young candidate ran her hand through her hair and looked at the books. "I don't know. I feel like they want me to know... everything. Like everything is some massive test I'm always a step away from failing. So... I figured I'd try and study everything that might be even a little relevant."

Then she looked up at Enalia and tilted her head. "Were you... were you scared about making it?"

"Honestly?" It was Enalia's turn to chuckle softly, remembering back to when she was selected. "It was my mother's goal for me, so I honestly didn't put as much effort into it as most people. I focussed on my other studies in piloting and command. I read through all the material and took the practice tests and jumped through all their hoops... But up until final selection, I'm pretty sure it was my mother's bribes I was riding on. Final selection rolled around and I spent three days shadowing my docent. They were a Starfleet Ambassador and I was a cadet so she pretty much got a free secretary for a few days."

"What scared me was that I'd be shadowing a Commodore. Do well and it would reflect well for my career. Do poorly..." She let that thought hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I know she enjoyed the tea I made at least. Being able to get real tea leaves from all over the galaxy has benefits. I left her with a small stock of Rigelian white crown ceylon and contact information on where she could get more."

"So I guess in a way I was scared, but not for the same reasons? She held my hopes and dreams in her hand and as docent, she could have ended my Starfleet career before it started and denied me the joining. Without that, I would have had to go back to my mother and taken over the family."

"So... you could have lost both? That's..." The young candidate sunk in her chair a little. "My... my mom was rejected. I think that's why she's pushed for this so hard. I didn't want to be joined for the longest time, just to spite her, really. Until I started really thinking about it, not framed by her ideas, but by what I wanted. And... and this is something I want. To be a part of something more. Something bigger than myself. Something that will last longer than just me. The joining. My music. It's all part of that idea, If that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense. Hey, no matter what, you have a fan in me, ok?" Enalia smiled as kindly as she knew how, hoping the warmth inside of her came across well. "And I know you'll get selected. With a goal and a dream like that, no docent in their right mind would deny you."

With a slightly broader smile, the young woman looked up at the Starfleet Captain on the other side of the desk. "Thank you. I mean it, I really appreciate you taking the time to... to help me get out of my own head. It means a lot to me."

She stood up and held out a hand, smiling a full head shorter than the stunning fleeter, "I'm... I'm Dana, by the way."

"I'm Enalia," she replied, standing and reaching to return the handshake with a stunning smile.

Just before their hands met though, time seemed to slow and the color seemed to drain from the world. Then, parts just flitted away in clouds of smoke until only Enalia and the White Rabbit remained in a shadowy emptiness.

"I suppose this is your way of telling me that the visit is over?" Enalia asked, her brow furrowing.

The mysterious woman smiled and cocked her head. "The conversation she will have with her mother that eve would have driven her to suicide that night. Now she will live and be selected as your fourth host and inspire many, every necessity set aright."

"Well... I won't pretend to understan..." As she spoke, the area around them faded into existence once more, forming that of her mother's study. "And we're someplace else..."

"Here you are your mother in a time that which is lost. You must see that decisions made are a necessary cost." The White Rabbit then faded into a shadow as the pirate queen before her stood from the overstuffed chair in which she had been seated and drew a rather distinctive and familiar fencing blade, facing off with... Well, herself.

“Whoever you are, the disguise isn’t working and I’m unimpressed. You’ve ten seconds to give me a good reason not to kill you,” the armed pirate queen explained, eyes flickering to the readouts on the hilt of the sword which apparently doubled as a tricorder. “Chronal signature notwithstanding...”

Enalia just huffed slightly as she looked over the older version of herself before her, completely ignoring the demand. "So this is what I would have become if your plot to steal my body had succeeded... Bravo, mother. At least you didn't let yourself go. So tell me... Are you happy with the life you stole?"

A coldly calculating expression settled on the face of the pirate queen, and in that moment, Enalia could truly see her mother in there. Past the familiar face, past the changes that age had wrought and the wrinkles and silver threads shot through her hair, that expression of emotionless observation was one she knew all too well, and in that moment it was clear precisely whom she was facing, if she were not already certain. Setting the sword down on the table beside her, Arenara Artan offered her daughter, who had perished three decades earlier essentially by her hand, a set.

“I don’t know how you’re here, or why particularly, but assuming that I take this seriously… yes. Yes, I’ve rather enjoyed living in your life, seeing the world through your eyes, righting all of the mess you’d made of your life and all of the useless emotional attachments you maintained… oh do shut up, Enalia.” That last bit she looked down to speak to her own stomach, where the pouch that held the symbiote was contained. “She’s not the ghost of my past misdeeds come to avenge you. No one succeeded then, no one has managed to do so in the intervening years, and I keep telling you, no one ever will. I’ll just keep slaughtering your friends as I have every other challenger.”

Enalia clasped her hands behind her back and waited for her mother to finish talking to the Telvan symbiont. Apparently, having stolen her body like that, there wasn't a traditional joining so there was some internal bickering going on. It was interesting to know that though she herself was technically dead, she lived on through the slug in the woman's belly and kept up the harassment.

"It would seem you have an unwelcome houseguest. I can only imagine how that must feel." There was neither sympathy, nor sarcasm in her voice. It was simply an observation.

“It’s the voice of a weak and pathetic ghost, more gravy than grave,” Arenara scoffed. “She whines and she complains, but she’s long since given up trying to overwhelm me. I think disassembling her holographic love doll when I finally caught her might have been what finally broke her,” the older woman reminisced with a smirk that was entirely self-satisfied. “So since you’re here, tonight of all nights, why? What do you want? Are you planning to change history, is that it? You’re a past version of my sniveling whelp, come to confirm what your future holds? You won’t be able to stop me, you know- not even death will stop me, but you’re welcome to try.”

It was at that moment that Enalia Telvan had the unusual experience of being checked out and inspected by an older version of herself, and as the hand of the older woman crept closer to the hilt of the sword she bore, Enalia realized she was considering stealing this younger-than-her-current body as well.

"On the contrary," Enalia began, eyeing the sword as well. "In my timeline, you were vaporized in front of me as you were about to throw yourself on your own sword I was holding to steal my body. I'm just here to... I suppose confirm that the decisions made were the right ones. If you've killed everyone I cared about... Then yeah, you got what you deserved." She may have appeared to be composed, but inside she was in turmoil and conflict. What she was in conflict over, though... Even she wasn't sure about... She wasn't about to allow her mother to see it though.

“For all the good it did me,” Arenara grumbled. “Turns out getting checked out by a doctor you trust is harder than you’d think after you kill one in an agony booth. Once word got around, I was on my own for health care. Which might not have been so bad but for the brain tumors. Apparently a side effect of Mudd’s process was that the insulating covers of nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord were damaged, and over time it has advanced. So the last laugh’s on you anyway- turns out your stupid brain and body betrayed me. The blade doesn't work on my scrambled brain, so I’m going to self-terminate tomorrow… which is, I suppose, why you’re here tonight.”

"That explains a few things, I suppose. Mudd is brilliant in his own way, but he always has a way to screw you over if things don't go the way he likes, doesn't he?" The Trill Captain clenched her hands tighter behind her, now knowing yet another piece of the story behind the future she wasn't supposed to know. "So do you have any regrets? Anything you would have done differently? Any pearls of wisdom at your last hour for the daughter you failed to kill in another timeline?"

At that, Arenara grasped the sword and moved with quickness and surety, determined to demolish this spectre of the past that still seemed determined to haunt her. But thirty years and multiple sclerosis had taken their toll, and the younger woman in her prime easily sidestepped the attack, almost casually disarmed the older version of herself, then caught the loose weapon, raising it up only to drive the sword blade deep into the wooden deck with a rather meaty THUNK sound.

The look of shock and disappointment from her mother was surmounted only by the face of bitter disappointment it became, which Enalia knew so very well. Though it was odd to see it on her own face. Idly she wondered if over the years when she caught her reflection in a mirror, her mother had made the face to herself. Ready to criticize her daughter on sight, did that make Arenara a masochist living in Enalia's body?

Raising her eyebrows at the mind of her mother living in her older and ruined body, Enalia silently reframed the question.

Turning to make sure the chair was where she thought it was, the weary woman lowered herself into a chair, then massaged her hand where she'd been disarmed- actually showing weakness. Overall she just looked tired and worn out- which, in a poetically just manner, was precisely what was happening to the stolen body she'd killed for and subsequently abused.

"Advice. Pearls of wisdom. Something I never taught you... well, there are volumes of that," Arenara muttered. "No, you don't want any of that, but you're too much of a coward to ask for what you really want." Cocking her head in a manner that Enalia recognized as something she also did, her mother inquired. "Do you remember the day you beheaded me? I offered to tell you the truth. Anything you wanted to know, and I would be honest. I was serious then... I figured if you were going to die, I at least owed you that. Do you remember what you said?"

"Of course not. In my timeline, I decided to spare you and you were vaporized as you lunged at me." The younger woman walked over to the fireplace and stood in the warmth of the flames, but somehow they felt cold to her. "But if I had to guess... I would have told you I just wanted you to be proud of me. To be the mother I needed growing up."

The old pirate queen's face ran through a gamut of emotions before she settled on squinting at Enalia. "All right, so I must admit, I am rather curious. In a perfect universe where you got to live the fairytale life you always wanted, what sort of mother would I have been? Clearly I can't conceive of her, as I did my best, but why don't you tell me what you have in mind?" This from the woman who tricked her daughter into unintentional suicide and stole her body- 'I did my best'.

"Perhaps some form of encouragement other than how to avoid your lash and beatings every time I strayed from your projected path? A semi-kind word now and then?" Turning from the fire, there was moisture in Enalia's eyes as she glared at the woman seated before her. "Perhaps for just one time in your life the words 'I love you' to be uttered from your wretched lips?"

Rising from her chair, the pirate queen poured two glasses, picked them up and offered one to Enalia, who didn't take it. "See, I did teach you a thing or two. I suppose back when you were young, I probably would have told you that you deserved it for being worthless or weak. I would have told you that praise makes one lazy, and you must learn to strive without praise, taking pride in your accomplishments. Admitting love is a manipulation, and should be reserved for as such. Because love is a weakness that blinds us to the truth. I likely would have said all of those things, and more."

Sitting back down, it was clear that the canny old corsair wasn't doing so for dramatic purpose. It was because she lacked the strength to stand. Waving with her wineglass like a scepter, the queen of the Artans in her stolen life smiled, a humorless, wry smile that did not really reach her eyes, where there was only sadness.

"As I stand on the precipice of death, my perspective is enormous. I suppose I can finally be honest with myself, now." Setting the wineglass down as her hand had begun to shake, Arenara Artan looked her daughter in the eye. "I was cruel to you because you were willful. You didn't want to be what I wanted you to be, so I resented you. Because I resented you, I punished you and withheld my affection. Your sister made me proud, and then when she died, I... blamed you. I actually had your father killed but... your sister, that wasn't supposed to happen. It was supposed to be you, and... oh, don't look at me like that, it can't be that much of a surprise."

"It's not a surprise at all, really. I'm just amazed you're finally admitting to it." Enalia wiped at her eyes and continued. "At least you admit it. And yes, I blame myself for my sister's death as well. I'm the one that recommended her to the Commodore for that mission. Anyway, please, go on."

"When you went your own way and made your own choices, I resented your success. Others started looking at the life you were leading, and the glamour of a space pirate's life looked a lot less appealing than the latest technology, medical care and living on a luxury starliner instead of a hammock and a footlocker. Which only made me resent you more." It seemed her mother was on a roll, so she just let the words keep tumbling out. "I thought I could clone myself a younger body- that's what I wanted your genetic material for. I was going to 'birth a daughter' all right- and she was really going to be a new model of the same old queen. A custom built genetically augmented body to start over again at 18 sounds wonderful when you're in your seventies."

"I could never tell you I was proud of you because I was selfish and it was easier to resent and blame and abuse you, because that's who I am, like my mother before me, and like my daughter is too. It's a cycle- but you beat it by getting out, away from me, and living your own life. A weaker woman would have stayed and played the safe plan, but you never did. I couldn't admit it before now, but I suppose in my own way I was always proud of you. That's part of why I hated you so. Does that make sense?" The pirate queen cocked her head curiously, waiting to see if she'd connected the dots. Sometimes she got confused these days.

"Perfectly so. Thank you mother. I only wish... You had said this earlier..." As Enalia finished speaking, the world faded to grey and once again slowly turned to mist leaving Arenara-Enalia alone in her timeline and Enalia alone with the White Rabbit.

From behind her a willowy voice crept in like a fog. It was simultaneously a familiar voice and one she knew she'd never heard before. "I hope that brought you a semblance of closure. It's brought her soul a bit of peace in the afterlife, seeing you in her own alternate histories."

Turning to see who the newcomer in this bare, grey world was, Enalia's eyes went wide as she was greeted face to face with a vision of Death - A pale, skeletal woman wearing a thin black wedding dress that trailed behind her and giant glowing amethysts for eyes. She was the literal personification of the reaper from the children's books she read growing up.

"Ah... I assume you're Masato Rei... Does this mean I'm dead?" Enalia asked, worried about her future and that of everyone on the Hera.

The dry, hollow giggle that came from the woman was somehow mirthless and kind at the same time. "Oh no, you're just between worlds so now you can see all of us. You have one more person to speak with and since there's a life being born, I'll be the one to escort you."

With a wave of the skeletal bride's hand, the grey world shifted and Enalia found herself in a futuristic cybernetics lab, even by the Hera's standards. In it was a partially assembled android that looked like Kodria without her skin and a civilian scientist dressed in a white and beige uniform. She was an overly voluptuous Orion-Trill mix that was instantly recognizable, even though Enalia had never met her before.

She took a moment to look around and enjoy the look of things before she finally cleared her throat, startling the middle aged woman.

Standing over the Android, she raised her head in a start and all but dropped the tool in her hand. For a moment, the two women stood there staring at each other as the scientist's mouth hung open a moment.

Her long, her black hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she reached up to scratch the dark spots on the side of her pale green skin. "Mother?"

"Moira?" Enalia asked, not exactly sure what to say, also scratching at the spots on the side of her head. "I um... Is there anything I can help with?"

Stepping slightly away from the table, the adult Moira Artan... the daughter of Enalia Telvan and Maica who began her life as a flawed clone of Arenara Artan before the crew of the Hera worked to rescue a lifetime ago... Waved the tool towards her strange visitor. "What? Help? Wait? What are you doing here? This has to be some serious violation of Temporal... Anyway, I'm almost done. I should have been done seventeen hours ago."

Looking back to the table, the woman who looked middle aged but was likely near three times as old as Enalia was standing there thanks to the extended lifespans of Orion's and Trill's. "I just don't like the neural pathway degradation rate. It's only zero point zero two percent over every seventh cycle... under the spec rate... but I want it better. It needs to be better."

The younger, yet paradoxically older Trill woman chuckled softly as she walked up next to her daughter. "You know... It's not the perfection that makes us who we are, but the flaws. Besides, I know from experience that her self repair system will be more than enough to make up for it."

"I know that! I designed the self repair systems!" Moira slammed the spanner on the table as she picked up a PaDD and began scanning throught it, walk-in around the prone, incomplete android. "But she needs to be better than that. I need to be better. You don't..."

Cutting herself off mid sentence, Moira started shaking her head, looking at her PaDD. "No, no, no. What are you doing here? The room sensors aren't picking up any temporal abnormalities or residual tachyon displacement. And you won't be here for six days for her official activation."

"Uuhh..." Moira groaned. "Mnhei'sahe is picking up you, Mother, Rita, Sonak, Asa and... other people I probably shouldn't mention by name. An audience. I get an audience of family all waiting for something they knew about before I existed waiting for me to fail. Why are you here, Mother?!"

"Well, to be perfectly frank, I followed a white rabbit and found myself visiting various people." Enalia held her hands out to her sides, an innocent smile on her face. "You're the third one. I learned something at the last two and I think I helped them, so I assume the same will happen here. I mean, I wouldn't normally leave this sort of thing to some sort of supposed higher power, but I think I literally just met the incarnations of time and death. They did mention something about a birth though, if that helps."

Interestingly, Moira didn't look at all surprised. "Ah, that explains it. Haven't seen Bunny in a while myself. But you always did have the weirdest friends when I was growing up. As for a birth, I... guess that they mean her."

The Trill/Orion scientist looked down, running à hand gently across the endoskeletal form on the table. "She's... She's been what I've been working on for... what seems like forever. I worked on her for fifteen years before Asa ever mentioned that I was always meant to."

There was the slightest shudder as a wave of emotion rippled through the adult Moira Artan. "You all tried to protect me from knowing what I was meant to do but I had to do it anyway. She's... She's my legacy. All the genetically enhanced DNA in the galaxy, but this was the only way. And if I fail again, I don't just fail her and myself. I fail HISTORY!"

Walking back around the table, there was pain in Moira's eyes as her voice cracked. "D... Did she ever tell you that? Did she tell you how many times I failed? How many of her predecessors... died here in this room because of me?"

"Well, no... I think in her own way, she did her best to try to preserve the timeline... And make it better. After all, I'm still alive, right?" Smiling softly, Enalia rested a hand on Moira's shoulder. "Besides, I'm here this time. That's got to count for something, right? I've seen the plans and seen what Ila Dedjoy did with them to create her own android body."

"I know I'm not the scientist or cyberneticist or even artist that you are... But through the Tribunal and my time as Captain of the USS Hera, I've seen a lot of things that have made me wonder about a few things."

"Not a week ago, I watched my mother vaporized in front of my very eyes. Then less than a few minutes ago, I spoke with her, in my body, a day away from self-terminating at seventy years old in the original timeline. Now I'm standing here talking to my own daughter that an hour ago I just saw as a newborn babe that had yet to have her DNA corrected."

"Now... As for past failures, if you've learned from them, then they're not really failures, are they? And today? When you give life to Kodria, I'll be here with you either way. So what do you say?" Finishing up her little pep talk, Enalia gave Moira's shoulder a squeeze.

"I say that you think you know what's going to happen and it's infuriating that you're probably right." Moira sniffled and wiped a tear from her eye as she grinned at her mother. It was a crooked, mischievous thing that looked all too familiar to the Pirate Captain. "You're usually right."

Stepping across the room, Moira put her palm on a touchpad as a wall hatch hisses open, cold mists rolling out. "Kodria's brain. Well, the most important part. All the hardware is in her head already. The connections, positronic relays, neural synapses. But this... This is why her sisters failed. They didn't have this."

Putting gloves on, Moira gently pulled a small, five centimeters long metallic blue tube out of the wall casing. On the wall above it, Enalia could see a data readout with a series of DNA readouts, brainwave patterns and a list of names next to each: Rita Paris, Sonak, Asa Dael, Mnhei'sahe Dox, Mona Gonadie, Samuel Clemens XV.

"This is her soul. Made of the best parts of her family. Minds copied perfectly a lifetime ago in a mind-meld with a goddess." Moira's eyes were thick with barely contained tears as she slid the component into the back of the skull casing, locking it in place. "But... I'm scared, Mom. If we power her up and... I can't watch her die because I wasn't good enough."

"Sweetie, I know for a fact, from the moment I first saw you, you were perfect." Enalia leaned in and kissed Moira on the forehead. "And Kodria is as well. So how about we push that button together and give birth to a new life form? Give her an initial startup so you know for sure that the official startup in a few days, when everyone else is here, will go flawlessly?"

"Perfect?" Moira chuckled. "What happened to being defined by our flaws?"

Taking a deep breath, the spotted, pale green woman with her Mother's smile and the tired eyes took Enalia's hand in her own and placed it under the exposed sternum. It was cold and metallic. "Do you feel that? A small raised oval the dice of your thumbnail. That's it. Press and hold that for five seconds then let go. We'll know in two more seconds if the connections are complete."

Moira, with her hand over Enalia's, shuddering with anxiety, gave a light nod.

"Perfectly flawed then, thanks to everyone," Enalia added as she pressed the button and held it for five seconds and let it go. She pulled her hand back and wrapped one arm around the future incarnation of her daughter, the tension in the room almost palpable as the light in her granddaughter's black eyes came to life and the consoles around them started scrolling with exoquads of computational data.

This continued for nearly a minute before the whole room just went silent and everything stopped.

Then, as if waking from a dream, the endoskeletal Kodria raised one hand in front of her face, and just gazed at it. For a long moment, she studied it before looking around the room. Eventually, she fixed her gaze on the one that created her, as if she couldn't even see the other woman with her, and spoke. "Good morning. I am... Kodria... Are you my... Mother?"

Looking down into those eyes that reflected back with the life of her family... eyes filled with love and warmth... Moira began to cry as a broad smile broke across her face. Reaching up, she took Kodria's bare hand in her own and nodded, her joy uncontained, "I... Yes. I'm Moira, and yes. I guess I'm your mother."

With that, the room once again faded the same way it had before around Enalia, this time with tears of joy in her eyes as the White Rabbit once more stepped in front of her. "You have had a good trip through the continuum, yes? You have learned much and helped many in distress."

The Trill woman nodded and wiped at the moisture in her eyes. "Yes, thank you. I'm sure I've violated half a dozen temporal laws and the Temporal Prime Directive just now... But thank you."

The strange woman just sauntered up to her, pulled out her giant, ornate pocket watch from wherever she was hiding it, Looked up at Enalia from under the brim of that hat of hers, reached up, and booped Enalia on the nose.

Suddenly, she was back in the conference room where her trip had started.

Glancing around, she saw that the chronometer on the briefing view screen read the same as if no time had passed.

"Bridge to Captain Telvan," came a call over the ship's intercom.

"Telvan here, go ahead."

"Captain, the Galatean Alliance Delegates have been delayed due to unforeseen circumstances and ask that their meeting with you be put off until tomorrow. Something about an antique starship challenging them to a duel and chronometric radiation sickness."

"Please let them know we will be happy to render whatever aid they need upon their arrival and to take their time."

"Aye, Captain," With a chirrup, the line was closed and Enalia slumped a little, leaning against the wall of the conference room. This had already been a long day and she had forgotten about the delegation.

It was then that she noticed her previously forgotten mug of coffee on the conference room table, still hot enough to give off steam and she grinned that lopsided grin of hers. This little trip would take a few cups to tell.

If anyone even believed her.

In the Starfleet career of Rita Paris, there were a great many firsts. After all, she had experienced a wide variety of phenomenon, both naturally occurring and just beyond the scope of human experience. But in the here and now, sitting in the Delta Flyer Danu which she had once nicknamed ‘the Unlucky Lady’, Paris watched as Sonak checked the space/time coordinates for their destination, and Lieutenant Dox prepared to execute the flight plan.

Under ordinary circumstances, Paris would take the helm- after all, she was the mission commander, and flying through time was not something she had personally checked off her list of exotic experiences. But the truth of the matter was that Dox was simply a better pilot, and the young flight chief needed to have that responsibility of lives in her hands in order to continue to forge her confidence in herself. Sonak’s calculations would be flawless of course... which meant that the Lost Navigator had nothing to do, but watch and hope for the best on this mission. At least, until they reached their destination.

Earth. Bozeman, Montana. The year 2063, April 5th. Or somewhere thereabout.

A date known to any schoolchild as the first time mankind exceeded Warp One, which attracted the attention of a passing Vulcan scout ship, which created First Contact. A meeting between alien cultures that would change the face of the galaxy, as it would lead to the formation and founding of the United Federation of Planets.

A history currently off track due to the actions of a diabolical madman intent on bringing about the Terran Empire, the alternate history of another dimension where morality was in short supply, and humans were slaves to their baser natures.

Sitting beside the cybernetic Yeoman Dedjoy, the two Wil’I’Ams Klingon security officers seated behind her, the mission was of vital importance, with everything they believed in and stood for at stake. History was the prize, and it was up to the landing party from the USS Hera to get it back on track. Which Commander Rita Paris was determined to accomplish. Because by gum, she hadn’t come all this way through time and space, only to see the Starfleet she had devoted her life to serving wiped away. Not by some self-serving jerk who longed for the bad old days from his own dimension.

At the helm, the red-headed Romulan pilot was busy with a very unique pre-flight checklist. "Quantum Displacement Drive is online and checking green. Temporal shielding is fully powered and checks. Cloak checks..."

The perpetually anxious Lieutenant was at the helm of a ship, and nothing calmed her nerves as much, but she was still feeling the stress of this mission. Like the rest of the away team, Mnhei'sahe Dox was dressed not in her standard Starfleet uniform, but in nondescript, mid-21st century clothes. Hiking boots, bark brown cargo pants, a snug black turtleneck and a short, dark brown leather bomber jacket complete with a thick, fur-lined hood. Freshly installed hair extensions made her normally short, wavy red hair a more unruly mop atop her head that, tucked under a black cap, effectively concealed her overly large, prominently pointy Romulan ears.

While Dox had, in her many months aboard the Hera, dealt with many threats from assassin droids to angry gods, time travel was completely new to her. "...All flight systems check as green to go, Commander."

"Excellent. Mister Sonak, I assume the calculations for our chronal entry point meet with your standards?" Paris asked, knowing full well that they would if Sonak were the one checking the work, or he'd fix them.

''Affirmative, Commander; this vessel and its equipment is much better than what I had myself to use to transition from our own tangent timeline to this one. I estimate our probability of reaching our target spacetime coordinates at ninety-five point three percent. Our insertion garb and materials are one hundred percent authentic and our advanced technology is being properly camouflaged into the time period's known implements. Everything not of this time period, including this vessel, is also equipped with a programmed self-destruct mechanism so that any one piece taken from us or abandoned will vaporize itself and leave no possibility of temporal contamination.''

His steely grey eyes went in turn to everyone in the room.

''Which also means that each one of us is equally expendable if temporal contamination becomes a risk.''

He was not saying this lightly. As a Vulcan, if left stranded on Earth at this time, his life would be the first one to be forfeit.

“Well, given that I am about the only one capable of blending in for any period of time,” Paris countered, trying to lighten the mood a bit as the only human being in the craft, “let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. All righty people, buckle up, grab your armrests and if you pray to some power of the universe, now’s the time to do it. Unless anyone has an objection?” Rita Paris waited to hear if there would be one from any of the crew.

Sitting at attention, Petty Officer V'Nus Wil'I'ams gave the reply for both of the Klingon warrior-women and stalwart members of the Hera's security team, "There is NO greater honor than to die in the performance of one's duty. Come what may, we are prepared, Commander! Regardless of if we return singing songs of our glory or die honorably protecting our reality...the spirit of Kahless will guide us this day!"

The quirky Chief of Intel flashed a wry grin at the Vulcan one-man braintrust. "Speak fer yerself, my logical friend. Ah reckon ah plan on livin' fuhreveuh. Got a reputashun t'maintain."

"I think a Klingon prayer might be just the thing for this mission, Miss V'nus," Paris nodded respectfully to her security officer, then adjusted the baggy overalls that hid her curvaceous figure, making her look lumpy and fat. Rolling up the sleeves of her insulated flannel shirt, Rita slapped on a 49ers baseball hat then turned to regard the doll eyes of the current evolution of Yeoman Dedjoy. The one that Rita still hadn't quite gotten used to yet. "Just for the sake of my sanity in case it becomes important, what sort of drive system are we employing for this particular mission, Miss Dedjoy? In small words I'll understand, how are we cleaving time and space to run counter to time's arrow and arrive seventy lightyears away?"

Dressed in a long grey jacket, rose-colored jeans, and a worn out Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt, Dedjoy had redone her hair into more of a human long-haired style, extending just past her shoulders. She also had some cheap-looking wrap around sunglasses perched on top of her head to cover her eyes and her skin tint had been raised to match that of normal humans. Next to her was a suitcase filled with tech they would need before they even left the shuttle and though she was ready, sitting at the newly installed Quantum displacement Drive Interface console, she was clearly nervous to be going on another away mission.

Looking up from her console, Ila blinked a few times before responding, trying to put it into smaller words. "Well... The quant... The Section 31 transporter we used to save you and that we use to instantly transport three people in that little booth now and then... I was able to get the old engine from the last ship to bear the pod working. Linking the transporter and the drive, we're going to pop our unlucky little ship into the quantum realm, travel through some tubes while Lucky navigates us to our programmed time and place, then pop us back out. while we're in there, we'll need to keep shields at maximum, breathing might be labored... But the trip should only be seven point two seconds at full impulse. We just need to fly straight and let Lucky move the quantum realm around us."

She paused a moment and glanced around the cabin. "I hope that was easy enough to understand. Once we're ready, we just activate black alert and I'll activate the link to the ship and we're off."

From the helm, the Romulan pilot turned over her shoulder for a moment remembering full well what happened when the Hera made a quantum jump months ago, costing the young Yeoman Dedjoy her body and almost her life. But the tension was already high for the mission and Dox knew enough not to exasperate the situation.

After a second, Dox's console flashed. "Commander. Dock control signals we're clear for departure."

"I'll have to read the full report for the big words, but thanks for breaking it down for me, yeoman. Well done." Turning to the pilot's seat, the Starfleet career officer disguised as a local yokel gestured with an open palm to the chief helmsman. "At your leisure, Miss Dox. Mister Sonak has your insertion calculations, Miss Dedjoy is going to do the navigating, and all you have to do is make sure we're not spotted when we arrive."

Leaning forward, Rita Paris set her jaw and might have looked heroic, save for the outfit. "Let's go make history."

As silence and stares filled the cabin for a long five seconds, the Commander raised her hands in humble defeat and sat back in her chair. "Somebody... had to say something like that. I'm pretty sure it's in my Starfleet contract."

''Somewhat colloquial and simplistic... but accurate,'' Sonak answered deadpan.

At which point, the tension in the room cracked ever so slightly as Dox let out a throaty chuckle as she spoke. "Heh... Aye Commander. Initiating launch procedures. The Danu will be clear of the flight deck in twenty seconds. Initiating Chronal shielding."

There was a hum and a slight moment of mild disorientation among the occupants of the Runabout as the Chronal shielding came online, and the Danu made its way into open space.

“Set our coordinates for 48 hours prior to First Contact, Miss Dedjoy- if such a thing can be dictated with that degree of precision,” Paris ordered, ensuring that they would show up with sufficient time to get the lay of the land and attempt to capture their fugitives before enacting their history-ruining shenanigans.

''Chronal calculations completed and verified; transmitting to your navigation computer,'' Sonak announced.

As the runabout sped towards their entry point, Ila tracked their progress on her console. "Activating black alert. Quantum displacement in three, two, one..." A rather harsh klaxon sounded once and the alarm panels went to a rather odd blacklight variant that had only been seen once on the Hera - when the ship had jumped through the quantum realm to escape Gaia's black hole.

This time, it was the Danu's turn. As Ila activated the link to the Hera's drive, the aptly nicknamed Unlucky Lady seemed to spin in all directions away from three-dimensional space from the outside, straight into the quantum realm, disorienting the passengers further. As they flew through the wormhole-like tunnels of interconnected light, Ila counted down the time to the other end of the trip as the AI known as Lucky navigated them through the maze.

"Seven... Six... Five... Four..."

As the Danu continued, Dox felt a wave of dizziness as her skin tingled and the air seemed to press against her harder than was possible. It was like her high G flight training cranked up to 11. But she kept her hands hovering just over the controls of the ship, even though she wasn't in control and she kept her eyes on her instruments.

The two Klingon sisters of Security who were sitting in the back of the flyer- the honorable warrior and the angry brawler- reached across the aisle to hold hands. Nothing in their Starfleet training had really prepared them for this, and for not the first time they wondered why they followed the crazy old lady in the ancient uniform, who dragged them on bizarre adventures as if it were a quick hop to Risa.

''Fascinating,'' Sonak uttered in a deadpan tone. Although he too had used quantum realms to reach this universe, this was completely different from his own interdimensional time travel. With that technology and his calculations, he was confident they would hit their time-space target as expected. But to him, the trip was as worthy as the destination.

As for Rita Paris, the ancient astronaut watched out the viewports, excited by the mode of travel and the mission itself. All of the Federation and Starfleet were depending on the success of their mission, and the responsibility was definitely forefront in her mind. But it was still an amazing adventure, and a mission she would tell her grandchildren about someday when it was declassified. So the extradimensional explorer watched the cosmic phenomenon of their transit with almost childlike wonder, as the universe continued to surprise and delight her sense of adventure.

"Three... Two... One..."

As Ila finished counting, the ship popped out of the quantum realm of tubes, seemingly spinning back into existence in all directions at once, speeding away at full impulse. "Confirming date and location... Sol system... Stardate -259765.7... March 27th, 2063."

''Scanners adjusting stellar chart and thus confirming spacetime location,'' Sonak added from the sensors station.

“We’re early, then…. Good and bad news, thank you Miss Dedjoy,” Commander Paris opined. “Miss Dox, are we cloaked?”

Once the Runabout was back in normal space, it was back under Dox's manual controls and she quickly shook off the disorientation as if it hadn't happened and checked her instruments. "Aye. Cloak is engaged and functioning, Commander."

''Earth at this time had lost all satellite and surveillance systems beyond optical instruments,'' the Vulcan reminded them. And even at optimal capacity, they would be unable to properly detect and identify us. Being inconspicuous to the natives will be relatively easy. It is from our target and it's twenty-fourth century technology that we must be wary of. Especially that he is shrewd enough to expect interference and prepare for such a contingency.''

"Or anyone else who might be in the area, as you mentioned, Mr. Sonak," the curvacious commander called back. "What we don't know fills volumes. Let's see what we do know. Miss Dox, give me a geosynchronous orbit over Bozeman, out of the historic flight plan if you please. Miss Dedjoy, scanners please... are we alone up here, is there a very powerful and very cloaked android running around on the planet below, possibly in Montana? Sam, let's start spying on the locals from orbit- I would like the lay of the land, please. It's adding to historical records if nothing else. Mr. Sonak, please locate and assess Cochrane please, as well as his state of technological preparedness."

The Wil'I'Ams sisters eyed one another silently. No orders for them because it was not yet time for boots on the ground, and there were plenty of scans to go around. For now, they bided their time and waited silently.

After a few seconds of maneuvering, Dox replied from the helm. "In position and scanning range, Commander."

Sonak bent over his console.

''Scanning... Planetary atmosphere is high in toxic waste material and radiation contamination but within acceptable levels. Abundant but dispersed life signs all across the planet. Human life signs concentrated in small pockets scattered throughout the landmasses. Data matches historical records of Earth's condition at the present time... except...''

The Vulcan's fingers flew over a few keys.

''Detecting an impulse trail. It is of a scout class vessel of indeterminate origin and follows a standard atmospheric entry path towards the smaller landmass of the northern hemisphere; North American continent... Montana state.''

He paused a moment before finishing.

''There is also an antimatter signal, matching the trail. Commander, I have located the target area; the power signature is zero point fifty-three kilometers west of it.''

“Excellent work as always, Mr. Sonak. Will the impulse trail have faded by the time the Vulcans arrive in system?” Paris asked, concerned for the potential damage to the timeline even as she assumed their own impulse trail was cloaked. “Also, let’s get some deep scans of that craft- I want to know what we are potentially dealing with, and if we might be able to ensure it doesn’t go anywhere without being obvious about it.”

''It is our twenty-fourth century technology that is allowing us to detect it at this moment. By the time and at the distance they will be passing by, Vulcans of this century will find no detectable trace. History shows no notice of the Borg Sphere crash or the Enterprise E's presence or even of her firing quantum torpedoes at the very moment of Cochrane's test flight. It is only the application of warp power while passing by at the exact moment of the Phoenix' flight that they noticed and prompted them to change course and investigate. Neither did they notice any trace of the presence, nor departure, of Captain Picard's ship as they approached, while planetside or when they left.''

Then he frowned over his instruments.

''Scanning does not provide information on the antimatter powered system. Only the contamination of the atmosphere allowed any detection of its passage and rough location planetside. It appears that that vessel is cloaked with something akin to the latest Romulan technology, as seen on the flagship Scimitar of former Praetor Shinzon; or like the experimental cloaking system the Klingons tested during the whole Praxis Incident and up to camp Khitomer.''

He turned his steel eyes towards her.

''Such technology would be superfluous against even the most advanced sensors of this time period. Their hull's alloy refraction index would have been enough. This would confirm that our quarry expects interference; our kind of interference.''

“Duly noted and working into the plans. Can you estimate how long the intruder vessel has been here already?” Paris probed, determined to ask the right questions. “Also, any news on Cochrane or his state of readiness? I’ve read the Enterprise report- is he at the appropriate point of development or has someone already interfered?”

''Judging by the decay and dispersal of the particles in the atmosphere, I would estimate no more than one standard planetary revolution,'' Sonak answered. ''As for Cochrane's readiness; standard history has him ready as far as technology is concerned; but psychologically, it would take him six point fifty-three days to muster up enough courage... and enough intoxication if records are accurate... to actually go and pilot the Phoenix to it's rendezvous with History. But that, of course, is not taking into account any tampering with that History.''

Again he frowned a bit, as if working hard on some problem.

''We know the Borg did so; and their attack, barely averted by the Enterprise right in their temporal wake, would have pushed it too late for the Vulcans to detect the flight. As it were, it barely made it; Picard's crew worked to repair and ready the warpship for launch in time, thus restoring History; at least the main outcome. Now if some other time traveler is here, there is no way to ascertain if tampering has occurred or not... short of going to examine the situation directly.''

That was when Ila spoke up with a thump to her console. "I've got a lock on her! The tech in her has so many distinct signatures in it that my scanner tech cut through her cloak like a hot dakka through grilla. I can't transport her, but she's actually in the colony marked as Bozeman. Something listed as a bar."

“Hmmm… if we can’t transport her then she’s using her shields, but not her camouflage. So we may have to flush her out and give her a good reason to hide so that we can catch her. For now, we have the luxury of time, so let’s use it. Please keep monitoring her Miss Dedjoy, and if her shields drop, beam her, on my authority, straight into stasis. She’s officially a chronal criminal at this point and we’re taking no chances with her.” Turning to the rest of the landing party, Paris addressed everyone.

“We’re not in a rush here, people. We have time on our side, as they haven’t been here long and they don’t know how close behind them we are. So let’s use this time constructively. Find them, mark them and let’s see what they HAVE been up to, so that any damage they may have done we can work on undoing. Meanwhile, we monitor the situation. Sam, how is monitoring the locals going?”

A wave and some coarse mutterings from the Intel Chief coalesced into storm-filked glower, as he put the broadcast on speaker, and out came the voice of Mudd.

“When I think about all the children that aliens have personally murdered and chopped up and raped, I have zero fear standing up against them. Yeah, you heard me right. Aliens have come from afar, in their starships, and murdered human children, and raped human women, and even violated our livestock. The LIVESTOCK, people! What sort of cold, calculating and evil mindset comes up with that? Devils from space, I tellya, people. I just can’t hold back the truth anymore.”

"Well that's... a bit on the nose, but he's certainly stirring the pot," Rita looked over to Sonak with his sharply pointed eyebrows and elegantly tapered pointed ears. "He's rabble-rousing already. Try to find a way to jam that he won't notice, Chief Clemens... although I suppose his agent in the field is also his broadcast repeater and signal checker. Damn that man..."

''Our shuttle is equipped with a class V probe for multiple assignments,'' he reminded her. ''Launching it and deploying it as a satellite network, we can jam multiple signal sources simultaneously without alerting the extradimensional invaders below.''

From the helm, Dox's perpetually anxious stomach tightened into a familiar knot. Even before she had surgery to restore her Romulan appearance she suffered from racism and prejudice on Earth and even at the academy and to hear Davo Mudd stirring up xenophobia here, to taint the arrival of this era's Vulcans in just nine days had the perturbed pilot concerned. But she kept those fears to herself as she maintained her professional demeanor at her station all the while, subtly checking her freshly extended hair to make sure her makeshift disguise was still in place.

Sonak was pensive for a moment, then he turned to Rita.

''Commander; jamming their signal would eventually alert them to our presence. And any jamming can eventually be countered. However, if we were to substitute our own transmission to theirs, convey the exact opposing message that he is transmitting, he might not realize that his campaign of fear does not have the effect intended; and even that, not until he comes into actual direct contact with the local populace.''

“Hmmmm…anti-propaganda. Inventive solution as always, Mister Sonak. Sam, think you can handle that one?” Paris delegated. While the inspiring speech was definitely in her wheelhouse, delegation was important. And who better to manage an information campaign to counter a misinformation campaign than the Hera’s resident spook.

“Meanwhile, let’s firmly establish where our principal players in the drama are, what they are doing and what’s happening around them. Let’s get those scans running, and see what the water’s like before we jump in.” Paris ticked off the points. “Mudd, Muddborg, Cochrane…. Ah, what was the name of that woman who was helping him?”

From the helm, Dox called up a research file she had been studying for the mission. "Sloane, Commander. Lily Sloane was listed in the report from the Enterprise-E as Cochrane's confidante. I've got a picture from those records." While the red-headed Romulan's job was pilot, she was known among the crew for exhaustively reviewing all the Hera's section reports, personnel files, and mission research.

“Excellent, thank you, Miss Dox. Let’s narrow our search to monitoring the historical personages while we formulate our plan. It’s interesting to me that Clio Mudd is running with her shields up… can someone tell me what she’s doing in a bar at… local time for Bozeman, please?” Again, Rita Paris was seldom the officer with the answers. She was the one with the relevant questions.

Dedjoy piped up with the requested information. "Nineteen hundred? Sensors indicate roughly a dozen people and liberal libations. There also seems to be some sort of audio disturbance in the building. I think I can get a sample of it..." After a couple moments and some tinkering, the sounds of Roy Orbison's Ooby Dooby came blasting through the runabout's intercom, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the doll-faced android.

"No idea. See what you can do to filter out the background noise. We probably need boots on the ground, but I don't want to tip our hand- they don't know we're here, and I want to know the full extent of what they're up to before we make our move. So, for now, we use the wonder of the sensors available to us, and deploy the class V probe in orbit to bolster our capabilities. We can collect on the way out of system, or to self-destruct if we exit the system."

"Although one thing I want to make clear- if the opportunity comes and Muddborg switches to camouflage, beam her, Miss Dedjoy. Standing order. Mister Sonak can beam down to make a compelling neuralyzer explanation and we can do damage control as we have to, but if you get a shot at Cleopatra Mudd, you beam her directly her into stasis- understood?" Paris was stressing the point she knew, but a lot hinged on capturing the cyborg Mudd. Alone and without what amounted to a shapechanging one-conwoman army in this day and age, Davo Mudd's plans would likely alter drastically.

"Understood, Commander. The stasis unit is prepped and ready and there's no way she's losing me." Ila was determined to make sure the conwoman was secured as tightly as possible if for no other reason than to prove that her own mad science was far superior.

"Excellent," Paris replied with a smile, then she turned to address the entire crew. "For now, we work in shifts, monitoring the situation on the surface, assembling a picture of just what's going on down there, and figuring out to unscrew up time without screwing it up worse. When something changes- either we have a firm idea of what's going on down there, or-"

The cybernetic captain's yeoman Dedjoy beeped with delight as her fingers danced across the panel. "Walked into the back alley to camouflage herself, so no witnesses and..." The sound of the transporter activating came from aft, and Dedjoy's doll face was underlit by the control panel. As her fingers danced across the control interface at an inhuman speed, her fingers and wrists were a blur, though the rest of her was moving normally. "She's arguing with the transporter signal, trying to redirect it with a recall signal from their ship's transporter... oh no you don't...!!"

"I suggest you cross circuit A to circuit B, '' Sonak suggested.

"Good suggestion, but I'm running circuit B in parallel already. Crossing it to circuit C and adding in the backup buffer..." with a couple more seconds of struggle, Dedjoy clicked her tongue. "She's trying to send a feedback pulse. We know how to deal with that, don't we?" Without hesitation, she fired up the secondary deflector and charged one of the transporter antennas to deflect that feedback pulse right back at her.

"BAM!" With a few last flurries of motion from her artificial hands, Ila completed the transport. "Knocked her ass out and transport is complete! She's sleeping safe and secure in the stasis pod. On top of that, in six minutes, I can use the displacement drive to beam her and up to two others back to the Hera if we want." With a satisfied grin, she turned around and nodded to Commander Paris. "Commander..."

"Well done as always, Miss Dedjoy. All right people..." Paris turned to address the landing party again. While many missions required a lot of legwork, this one seemed to be precision and timing= at least, so far. "Now all we have left is one loud shock jock who's got an angle to change the universe, but his ace in the hole is out of the picture. Now he'll get desperate, or he'll try something new- let's see which. Petty Officer V'nus, guard that stasis tube. A lot can happen in six minutes, and I don't want any unpleasant surprises. So far so good, crew."

To Be Continued...

Orbiting the planet Earth on May 27th, 2063 was not anything that Rita Paris had ever planned to be doing. At least she was not in a full-sized starship- instead, she and the landing party were cloaked and under stealth. Which was good, because, in a few short days, Zephram Cochrane would achieve warp speed for the first time in human history, and make first contact with the Vulcans. Said historic meeting which, as every schoolchild knew, was the birth of the United Federation of Planets.

Currently, chronal criminal, conman and conniving cutthroat Davo Mudd, an escapee from the mirror universe of the Kelvin timeline, was below on the planet’s surface, attempting to stoke bigotry, xenophobia, and insular thinking in order to bring about the version of First Contact from his universe. Where the Vulcans of the T’plana Hath were met not with the open hand of friendship and a shaky Vulcan salute, but a shotgun blast.

The crew of the Hera were here to make sure that didn’t happen, and that history remained on course.

The daughter of Davo Mudd and Az’Prel, the other escapees of the Mirror Universe, Cleopatra Mudd was a cyborg, incorporating many advanced ad experimental technologies, many of which were gleaned from the world known as Mudd’s Planet, where complex self-replicating androids had long ago been built to serve a race now long dead. Discovered by Harry Mudd, the technology had been plundered by Davo Mudd in his universe to augment his daughter, whom he had raised to be an opportunistic deceiver and freebooter, as well as an expert in infiltration and disguise.

While he was broadcasting his messages of right-wing intolerance and xenophobia, she had been boosting the signal for him as a satellite, while she frequented the local bar relevant to where the First Contact landing would take place to work on the locals and map their appearances so that she could impersonate any of them at will.

Which might have been a pretty good plan, if not for the fact that the crew of the Unlucky Lady had discovered how to pierce Mudd’s cloaking technology through the genius of Yeoman Dedjoy. As they monitored, she dropped her shields to camouflage herself, and found herself beamed directly into stasis. A trial and due process would follow upon her return to the future from whence she had come. But for now, neutralizing her had become top priority. Which had come to pass, and using the experimental transporter inherited from Section 31, she and Petty Officer V’Nus had been beamed back to 2396, and the safety of the USS Hera.

Now came the hardest part- capturing Mudd, and undoing the damage he had done.

Monitoring the local frequencies as well as the conversations in the bar Cochrane frequented, which seemed to be a nexus point for this caper, there was some movement to his way of thinking., Humanity’s history was tribal, after all- it was easy to define themselves as ‘us’ so long as there was a ‘them’. It was not humanity’s modern outlook, but at this precarious point in their history, the people of the Earth were far more vulnerable to such rhetoric. Which they could ill afford with the pending arrival of the first step onto a much more galactic scale looming large in the near future.

Thus, at the moment, Lieutenant Samuel Clemens the XV was regaling the people of Bozeman with tales of his famed ancestor, Right now, he was reading to the people of Bozeman, in his folksy manner that had been handed down through generations, the Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County. Which was being broadcast to override and jam Mudd’s Glenn Beck impression.

There was damage that had been done already, and it had to be undone to ensure the proper flow of history according to the established parameters that insured history followed its previous course. A bit more than a week from this point, the USS Enterprise 1701-E would arrive in orbit chasing a Borg sphere and greatly interfere with First Contact, enabling it to come to pass. With a little luck, those time travelers from 23 years earlier than the period the crew of the Hera had departed would not encounter them, and time could continue to flow as it should.

Which led to the current moment, with Paris, the mission commander, briefing the landing party aboard the Unlucky Lady.

“Mudd has been at it for a while now, and in desperate times like this, it’s apparently too easy to fall into blaming others for your problems who are ‘other’ or ‘alien’, instead of taking responsibility,” Commander Paris admitted. “I’m afraid this isn’t humanity at its finest. So we’re going to go down and see what we can do to sway public opinion back in favor of humanity’s better nature."

"Petty Officer S’Rina, you’ll be positioned outside Mudd’s ship. Your mission is to intercept and disable him should he escape us in town. Mr. Sonak, Miss Dox and I will go down to the surface and see what can be done to mitigate the damage Mudd has done. Miss Dedjoy, you are our overwatch, manning the sensors and the situation from orbit to be our eyes and ears and our ace in the hole. Any questions?”

At the helm, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox was nervous but focused. In her childhood, she had been surgically and genetically altered to appear half-human, but as a young teenager that got stuck on Earth at the age of 16, she was well acquainted with how xenophobic even modern humans could be in the 24th century. And since having her appearance altered to restore her Romulan heritage months ago, she knew she, like the Vulcan Sonak, was a potential target of the vitriol Paris described if discovered, in spite of the hair extensions and cap worn to hide her large and prominently pointed ears.

But Dox was, above all else, a Starfleet Officer and she would not allow her anxiety to affect the performance of her tasks as she replied, allowing none of her concerns to show, "No, Commander. The Danu's orbit is set and autopilot is engaged on Yeoman Dedjoy's control."

Standing up from the helm and adjusting her civilian pilot's jacket, the red-headed Romulan continued. "Though, I was thinking that considering the locals had just gotten through extended military conflict with what was called the Eastern Coalition, referring to ourselves by rank might serve to inflame the population even more."

“Ohhhh yes. Just Rita for me. You okay with Melanie, Miss Dox?" It was her 'human' name her mother had given her to camouflage the young woman from the Tal Shiar in her youth. While it had been abandoned since then and she had returned to her native Romulan name, it could still serve a purpose. "Not your favorite I know, but it will make you easy to identify and easier to blend in. As for Mister Sonak, we’ll just go with... Mister Son,” Paris offered.

''Sun sounds close enough and is the Anglicization of a traditional Native American name,'' Sonak suggested. ''With my Vulcan complexion, hair color and facial features, it should provide a believable alternate identity; with grey eyes betraying some distant Northwestern European ancestry.''

Taking the good suggestion in stride and incorporating it into the plan, Paris pressed on. “Given how this appears to have played out, I think I’ll go in alone. I can draw attention and not be outed, while you two cover the exits to intercept Mudd when he tries to escape. Not the firmest of plans, but winning over the hearts and minds is seldom a concrete activity.”

"Aye. 'Melanie' it is, Comm... Rita. Ahhh, I hate doing that on duty." Dox replied, adding a slight smile to bolster her own confidence and an affirmative nod.

''I suggest we hide our communicators in passive mode only and on vibration signal,'' Sonak suggested. ''Thus we will be in permanent contact and aware of each other's situation in real-time, yet no unforeseen transmission will be heard to betray us.''

“Always one step ahead, Mr. Son,” Rita replied with a smile. Years of working with the stoic and brilliant Vulcan had taught her that whatever details she might overlook, Sonak would suggest. Never was it a lecture, never was it condescending, and always a suggestion. Which of course set the bar for her- if the smartest man she’d ever met could manage to bolster weak points of a plan without being arrogant or patronizing, so too could anyone less intelligent than he, at least in her book.

“As for professional decorum, think of this as undercover work, Miss Do- ah, Melanie,” Paris caught herself, rolling her eyes at her own gaffe. “If it helps, chronologically speaking, I won’t outrank you for another 202 years…”

Allowing herself a smile and a light chuckle to scatter the nerves, Dox nodded and checked the cochlear earbud comm unit that they would be using for the mission one last time.

“Well, we can’t risk the Unlucky Lady being spotted planetside, so we’ll have to beam down if Dedjoy is to remain on overwatch,” Paris explained, a few tell-tale beads of sweat forming on her forehead at the thought of stepping into a transporter. While Paris was leery of transporters to say the least, for good reason given her history with them, times like this called for her to suck it up and put on her game face. “I’ll transport down last, so if there is a… mishap… you two can still complete the mission.”

The number of bizarre and unusual experiences Paris had encountered over the years led her to make such decisions, because if there was a fluke, an accident or a chance of malfunction with a transporter, it would happen to Rita Paris. Her grip on the console upon which she was resting her rear gave her the impression of a casual air, but any who knew her could see the white-knuckled grip she had on the edge of the console. It was an old habit she maintained, which only manifested itself during stress- the propensity to grip solid objects in a deathgrip in order to hold onto reality, which had the habit of giving her the slip in a rather cosmic sense.

Watching, Dox had to virtually bite her tongue. She was extremely aware of the cause of Rita's white knuckles, but as an officer, knew she was right. The safety of the mission was vital. The entire future depended on it and they all knew it.

"What about me? I am of no use up here, Commander. What is my role in your plan?" the musclebound and aggressive Kilingon petty officer practically demanded. S'Rina had held her tongue, but she was not going to be left out of this mission.

"Oh, Miss S'Rina, I have a very special assignment for you..."

To Be Continued...

No one really noticed the local idiot in the overalls and ball cap who wandered into town for a drink.

The yokel seemed to be reveling in the crisp air, the smell of the pine trees, the caress of the winds... like a sailor returned home from the sea. Nobody cared, as she wasn't bothering anyone, and she was just some idiot in overalls, after all.

There had been a shock jock that had started broadcasting recently, and Tapper had been playing it in the bar, because a lot of what the guy was saying resonated with at least a third of his clientele... who also turned out to be the most vocal as well. Political arguments of varying ideologies and even religion came into play. The more people argued politics, the more beer they drank, and that worked for Tapper. He himself didn't much care for the message or a lot of what was being said. But it was good for business, so Tapper tuned it out and served his patrons.

About an hour ago, the broadcast had stopped, replaced by some guy reading Mark Twain stories in a folksy manner. The conspiracy theorists were getting up in arms now, claiming that the political activist who called himself the Trumpeteer was being silenced by the very forces he spoke out against.

The outsiders.

Foreigners.

Aliens.

The damn aliens just kept invading, and they were going to steal our women and rape our cattle, keep us down by insuring we couldn't advance. It was aliens that had brought down this once proud nation, and it was aliens who were still among them, selling drugs and committing crimes. It wasn't the fine, upstanding decent folk- no, it was dirty aliens, who looked like they came straight out of hell itself, with their weird languages and their ways that were different than ours.

It was us against them, after all. Otherwise we would lose our way of life, and be forced to embrace their weird cultures and permissive behaviors and weird sex stuff that just made people uncomfortable. With their three or four way marriages, or married to a dog, and all the other things that made a mockery of the union as it was intended by God himself, one man and one woman. Because those aliens, they are all 'let's hump everything' and apparently, according to the current argument in one corner at least, no straight man's butthole was safe when aliens invaded.

This was the scene into which Rita Paris casually strolled, and sat innocuously at the bar to listen for a few minutes. To hear what was said, and to listen for the fear behind it all. Throughout human history, lust, fear and greed had been the primary motivations of the species. Which Rita felt quite comfortable with- she was, after all, very human. These assholes, bigots, drunks and wannabe fascists were her ancestors, after all.

As terrible as the things they were saying were, filled with the hate and rage and fear she still believed in each of them, there was at least a small spark of nobility. Though they were comporting themselves like cavemen shouting and thumping their chests to the darkness, roaring their defiance at that nebulous thing beyond their comprehension which they feared- thus they hated. Still, that ember of nobility was there... it just needed a little gentle breath to bring it to a flame.

Walking along the exterior of the open-air bar, Mnhei'sahe "Melanie" Dox had her hands in the pockets of her vintage style bomber jacket as she casually circled the perimeter of the bar. It was largely open with multiple entrances but a few specified paths, and she stopped near the entrance closest to the rear alley that Cleopatra Mudd had gone into when Dedjoy had beamed her out. It was a likely escape route, she thought, should trouble break out.

Pretending to nurse an opaque, empty brown beer bottle she had fished off of a trash can, the red-headed Romulan looked like any of the other casually angry drunks listening to the hateful rants. Her large, pointed alien ears hidden by her newly lengthened red curls and burried under a black cap. Catching Rita's attention from the corner of her eye, she gave the slightest of nods.

The ancient astronaut, the lost navigator, the golden girl from the golden age believed in her heart that humanity was better than this. She had seen it and proven it, time and again through decades to come and centuries beyond that. Rita Paris believed in humanity- but sometimes, particularly in times like this, humanity needed a slap in the face. As one of the angry crowd commented, Paris chose that moment to speak up.

“Where you from, mister?” the blonde dressed as a local idiot asked, with reasonable innocence.

“I’m from Texas,” the rough-hewn fellow replied, with no small degree of pride.

“That’s funny, you look Hispanic,” Paris countered.

“I am, so what?” The Texan replied.

“Well, that means that your family were aliens once, and they came to this country, and they became a part of the country,” Paris applied basic logic to the argument. “Which is how you are now a citizen. You really think we should close the borders to all aliens? Because if that was the policy, you would be somewhere in South America right now instead of here in Montana.”

The Texan was willing to blow her off, but Paris wasn’t in the mood. This called for some grandstanding, in good old-fashioned political style. So Paris climbed up onto the bar, and addressed the crowd.

“This? This is what we’ve come to? We came through the wars and we barely survived as a species, we’re barely holding onto the planet with all of the pollution and trash. We poisoned the waters, we irradiated the land and we’re still here, clinging to this fragile ball of mud spinning through space. And after all of that, your takeaway is that we need to be on guard against new people, new ideas, new ways of life?” gesturing around broadly, she continued. “All of this glorious lifestyle is what you are so up in arms to defend?”

There were dissenting voices in the crowd, but Paris spoke over them, her voice of command ringing out clear and strong. “That isn’t who we are- not as a people, a nation or even a species. We’re not xenophobic bigots who think the answer to our problems is to bury our heads in the sand in regard to our own problems and faults, and blame some nebulous ‘other’. Has it maybe occurred to you we could use a little more diversity in our culture? Maybe we’re not doing such an amazing job using the same old ideas, the same old ways. Maybe we could be more."

“Maybe, just maybe, if we embraced change and progress and diversity instead of fearing it, we might not be drinking liquor this guy brews in the back. Maybe we could come together to do more instead of squabbling amongst ourselves, fighting over the scraps left of our society and blaming others for our problems. Maybe if we faced our problems and faced our fears, we could be so much more. Change the world, and reach for the stars… we could be great if we’d let ourselves be great. Instead of just showing how narrow-minded and petty we can be as a people.” The crowd seemed to be going along with it, so Paris pressed the point for her final thrust, to bring this speech home and sway some hearts and minds.

“In the annals of human history, we’ve done some really horrible things. The Crusades, the Inquisition, more wars than can be counted. I mean, Nazis- TWICE,” she emphasized, seeing people nod their heads. Bigotry might be easy to stoke in people, but even actual Nazis did not want to be called out as Nazis. “What has defined us as a people is not our capacity to hate, but our capacity for compassion. To bridge the gap between other cultures. To form bonds that are unlikely, yet as strong as our will as a people not to vanish from this Earth. We’re better than this, people. We don’t have to be defined by our fears and our greed and our hatred. We can be a great people, and we should act like it.

The truth was told in the faces of her audience. Many looked inspired, some looked guilty, ashamed of the rhetoric they had been engaging in. And some still looked angry… but they were a select few, and Rita figured she couldn’t concern herself with changing every mind in the room. So long as they weren’t ready to form a lynch mob when the Vulcans landed, she’d take that as acceptable.

Which all might have worked wonderfully, save what happened next.

In the din of the crowd, the time-traveling miscreant and target of the away teams mission, Davo Mudd, came out from behind a small cargo shed he had been hiding behind once the tide had begun to turn, having recognized his pursuers from the U.S.S. Hera. After all, Mudd was no fool; Rita Paris had argued against him in the Tribunal, and while she was out of uniform and wearing bulky clothing, he’d recognize that nauseating idealism anywhere. Both Sonak and Dox had stood against the former Artan Queen in battle.

In fact, as a Baroness with her own booth during the tribunal, Dox stood out in his memory as a particular threat as he quite distinctively remembered how dangerous the young Romulan was with her twin blades facing down the pirate hordes. Wanting to remove that threat, he moved quickly while the roaring cheers of the crowd for Rita’s stirring oratory had made it difficult for even sensitive Romulan ears to hear him run up behind her.

Turning around just in time to see Mudd rushing her with a mad dash, Dox was too late to defend herself as he lunged forward with something in his hand. Slapping Dox's arm as she brought it up to defend herself, Mudd connected with a small metal clamp that looked like a scarab that immediately dug a series of four claws into the meat of her arm, locking itself onto her.

Suddenly, the Romulan pilot felt an impossible wave of pain radiate from the point of contact throughout every fiber of her being. Like electricity, the jolt ran through her so rapidly, her every muscle locked in place and not even a scream escaped her lips as Mudd's miniature Agonizer felled the red-headed Romulan woman. As she struggled to remain conscious from the unbearable pain, she looked up to see his grinning face rimmed with encroaching blackness.

Which was when he yanked her hat off her head and yanked her up by the long mane of curly red hair, exposing the pointed ears of the Romulan woman.

“Oh sure, you make a lovely speech for diversity and open arms to aliens. But what about the aliens already right here among us! Look! Pointed ears, just like the devil!” Mudd shouted as Dox’s eyes fluttered, eyeballs trying to roll back up in her head as she struggled to retain consciousness through the impossible pain.

A number of the bar patrons turned to look, even as Paris cursed her luck. She’d been so focused on the crowd she hadn’t been watching for an ambush, and she hadn’t expected Mudd to get the drop on Dox of all people. But however it had come to pass, now she had a situation, and she had to deal with it.

“Plastic surgery can do an awful lot these days. You gonna fat shame her next, or call her a crazy redhead? You’re loco, mister,” Paris started, when in a smooth and deft action Mudd produced his Terran officer’s dagger and cut a gash on Dox’s forearm. A gash which promptly bled green, not red.

“Oh really? Is green blood a plastic surgery alteration?” Mudd shouted, and as he held up the bleeding forearm to the crowd, the mood began shifting rapidly back toward a very negative tone.

Mister Sonak, if you could get into position to cut off Mr. Mudd’s escape and be prepared to drop him, it would be appreciated. Meanwhile, let’s see if this can be solved with words and ideals. While she wasn’t positive that Sonak would hear her thoughts, overestimating the kolinahr had usually paid off for her in the past, and she made the broad assumption he would hear her, or simply know what to do. After all, they had been partners on away missions for years, and both were quite familiar with the tactics and strategies of the other.

Affirmative.

Sonak's eyebrow shot up as he perceived Rita's thoughts despite the distance separating them. He could feel the mental connection between them almost as when they had been in their own universe. Almost; here, he could not access the minds of others without direct contact, as he could do then... except with Rita. Logic answered that their matrimonial bond was the conduit. As for the source of that power increase... he had his hypothesis but elected to test it at more appropriate opportunity. For now, History was at stake. he had to concentrate on the here and now.

This was standard security procedure for apprehending a fleeing suspect; position yourself at his main avenue of escape and catch him at the moment said suspect thought it had eluded capture and pursuit. And in this primitive, rustic setting, it was rather easily to identify.

However, they were dealing with a 24th-century criminal; and one from a parallel universe at that. Therefore, logic would dictate that he would favor means of escape that would be anything but primitive and rustic.

Yet, logic again warned him that, if those means failed him, he would have no choice but to resort to more mundane solutions. Thus, logic left him only one sure way to succeed in apprehending the man, whatever he would do or not do.

A full minute after his wife's mental call, he was ready.

In position, he sent back to her.

There was reassurance in hearing Sonak in her mind, because the brilliant scientist was capable in all things, and if Mudd fled, he would run into the waiting arms of a Vulcan nerve pinch. A number of options were available to her right now to turn the tide, and feverishly Paris’ mind worked to find one that she felt would work. Intuition had always guided her, and today was no different as she strode down to squat on the bar, out of reach of Dox and Mudd, but still close enough to affect the situation. Which was when Mudd dropped the bleeding arm of the chief helmsman and brought the stylized dagger to her throat.

“Not one inch closer, because you know I’ll do it, Rita,” Mudd sneered, using the familiarity of Paris’ first name as a taunt. But she didn’t rise to the bait- instead, she spoke slowly and calmly to the madman from another reality hell-bent on making this one conform to his own.

“You can’t get away, Mudd. You can try to poison the hearts and minds of these noble people, but you can’t win. They’ll never be the selfish, frightened people who lash out against anything different-“ Paris began, as she realized chemical propellant firearms were being produced and waved about, and one of them was the bartender, who was pointing a rather large double-barreled affair at her.

“I think you might wanna get offa my bar now, missy,” Tapper intoned as the crowd turned uglier, much to Mudd’s delight.

“Really?" Mudd cackled. "Because from where I’m standing, this is an alien invader amongst us, and you probably are too. And it looks to me like these fine people recognize the dangers of strangers among them, infiltrating our society, pretending to be human while secretly undermining us and working to keep us down. Why are we poor? Why are we hungry? Why are we huddled in survivor settlements like this? Because of THEM!” Mudd pointed to Rita, who stood up on the bar to get away from grasping hands. This situation was rapidly escalating out of control, and she realized she had one option.

“Oh yeah? Who won the revolutionary war and was the founder of our country?” she fired at Mudd, a question any schoolchild would know.

Mudd snickered. “Benedict Arnold, of course!”

The crowd paused.

“Who won World War II?” Paris asked as Mudd looked around a bit nervously.

“The Axis powers, of course…”

The crowd turned a bit uglier again, but they weren’t focused on Rita this time.

“Who let fly the first missile, Mudd?” she asked, arms crossed and an arched eyebrow rising as a smug smile settled into place.

“We did…?” Mudd replied, then realized too late his mistake. In not bothering to research the history of an Earth that was a mirror of his own, he had been outsmarted by his own big mouth.

“NOW who do you think is the alien and who do you think is the local? The gal who knows who George Washington was, who knows the Allies won WWII and knows Russia launched first? Or the guy who clearly doesn’t know the history of the world?” The crowd had turned once more, only now they were moving in on Mudd.

“Where’s my daughter, Rita?” he asked through gritted teeth as he held the knife blade tightly to Dox’s throat, drawing a thin line of green blood.

“Safe, far and away from you, father of the year," Paris snarked, then reined herself in. The day would not be won by threats or barbs, but by the defining, shining trait of humanity- compassion. "Let her go, Mudd. The jig is up and we can all still walk away from this. Your scheme isn't going to work- these people are better than that. There's no... need... for bloodshed. Come back with us, and I promise you a fair trial, and visitation with your daughter until you're both better and you can decide healthy boundaries for one another. See reason, Mudd... please."

As a career liar and inveterate conman, Mudd was particularly good at deducing truth from falsehood. In the entreaty he had received from Paris, he could discern no falsehood- the woman meant every word of what she said. As he removed the knife from the bleading throat of the Romulan helmsman, he began tapping at a large wrist comm, at which point Rita shouted, “Get him!”

The locals, confused and ready to hurt someone, surged forward to tackle Mudd, which worked well to cover him beaming out. As they did so, Rita spotted the agonizer unit on Dox’s wrist, and innovating as she tended to do, poured a beer over it, causing it to short-circuit and fail.

“Get gone, Dox,” Paris ordered through the cochlear, even as she reached out to Petty Officer S’Rina. “Tell me you have him, S’Rina.”

There was no answer.

As soon as the Agonizer was disabled, Dox's head began to clear enough for her to be furious with herself for being so useless. "Aye, C... Rita." The still light-headed young woman with the wounded pride replied as she obeyed. She ran, slowly at first, in an arc in the direction Mudd had taken off in while moving clear of the crowd that she had been outed to.

Moments ago, as Petty Officer S’Rina stood guard outside Mudd’s ship, she saw him approach from the woodline, and she shot him with a transporter tag. Then another stepped out from behind a tree, and she shot him too. Which was when another Mudd managed to get the drop on her and slap an Agonizer on the sturdy armored Klingon warrior.

Who turned and smiled.

“My armor is insulated, fool. Your petty weakling tricks will not work on me!” she declared with a snarl, driving the butt of her rifle across the jaw of the ersatz conman, which promptly knocked his head askew, leaving it dangling by some wires and tubes.

“Well if you’re going to be that way…” another Mudd declared as an arc of electricity came off the small scout ship she was guarding, a bolt of lightning which fried her suit’s systems, blew out her communications and rendered the muscular Security officer quite unconscious, her armor steaming slightly with wisps of ozone-scented smoke.

It was at that moment that the actual Davo Mudd transported in, so the Muddbots did not have time to do anything more as he immediately started the engines and took off, abandoning his robotic servants to pollute the timestream as he charged for the sun.

As Mudd blasted off, all his attention was concentrated on his escape; thus, he didn't notice that his security system was off... nor the tall, slender form that moved silently behind him and stretched a hand to pinch the nerve clusters between his neck and shoulder.

Sonak had logically deduced that the only place he could be sure the transdimensional criminal would fall back to would be his own ship. Hence, he had hid in it and as a first action quickly disabled the security computer to pounce on him once he would come aboard. There would be no intruder alert, no emergency forcefield, no emergency beam out or gassing.

But the little time Sonak had to prepare had not been enough to notice all of the equipment stored willy-nilly all across the cockpit; like what was propped against a bulkhead behind 21st century Earth clothing... until a mechanical hand grabbed his own wrist.

Vulcans are strong and Sonak is stronger than the average Vulcan. He was able to wrestle with the incomplete Mudd android suddenly moving to protect its master, but only to a standstill; and even that, barely holding his own. That gave time for Mudd to realize what was happening, and to act accordingly. He shouted over his shoulder at his artificial slave.

''Evacuate!''

Still grappling with Sonak, the half-formed Mudd facsimile threw itself with Sonak at the back of the cockpit. As soon as they slammed on the floor, Mudd hit a side console. It quickly closed a pressurized door and a sudden blast of decompression shook his ship.

With a wide grin and a chortling laugh, he flew at full impulse away from the jettisoned escape pod.

"Miss Dedjoy, talk to me- what's going on?" Paris called through the cochlear as the scene in the bar devolved back into more of the usual. Dox was gone, Rita herself seemed to be in no danger, and she couldn’t see Sonak anywhere about, but the canny Vulcan was a professional. Wherever he was, it was the right place at the right time, and he would be fine, she was confident.

But best not to take any chances where Mudd was concerned.

Over the comms came Ila's frantic voice, trying to monitor several situations. "Ma'am! S'rina is down, surrounded by Muddbots, with Dox en route. Mister Sonak is aboard Mudd's ship's escape pod with a Muddbot. Unfortunately, I was unable to redirect his transport signal so he slipped away from both of us." After a moment of silence, she continued her report. "Commander, he's flying towards the sun. Scanning... He's planning another time jump!"

“Get a lock on Mr. Sonak’s escape pod and see if you can tractor it in or beam him out, whichever is feasible. Miss Dox can tend to Miss S’Rina- tell me you have a way to track Mudd, Miss Dedjoy- otherwise we have to chase him, and we have to move now,” Paris ordered through the comms, mind racing to imagine how Sonak ended up in an escape pod.

As Dedjoy replied to Rita, Dox listened in on the open comm line as she ran out of the thick brush to the clearing where Mudd's ship was. While she moved, she tore off the sleeves of the shirt under her jacket to create makeshift bandages for her arm and neck. In the clearing, was the prone form of Petty Officer S'Rina, her armor still slightly smoking. Next to her, the beheaded Muddbott, as well as a pair of inactive bots laying there who appeared to have been shot.

Running to her side, Dox got on her knees and checked for a pulse. It was a calculated risk to get that close and touch a downed Klingon warrior and the young Romulan knew that if S'Rina woke suddenly, she would likely be hit and hit hard, but it was a chance she'd have to take.

"Good. Pulse is strong." Dox muttered to herself as she leaned back slightly to get out of immediate striking range. "Melanie to Rita. S'Rina is out but seems okay. There's a few broken Muddbots here as well."

Then Dox gave S'Rina a slight shake to the unconscious warrior. "S'RINA! It's Dox. Are you okay?"

With a growl, the Klingon warrior grabbed the Romulan, struggling to bring herself to arms before she recognized the Starfleet officer, and relaxed her grip a bit. Grunting, she levered herself up on an elbow.

“Ambushed me… dirty little dung eating insect…” the Klingon warrior grumbled as she struggled to rise. Her armor’s systems were all blown, so she exchanged it for her uniform, which made it far easier to move. “Did he get away?”

Righting herself on one knee before her Klingon comrade in arms, the red-headed Romulan held her bandaged arm to help S'Rina up. "Yeah. He... Ambushed me as well. Got an agonizer on me and... Outed me to the entire kreldanni bar. He's already broken orbit."

That's when the world began to shimmer, and Dox, S'Rina and the trio of Muddbots transported out.

"Miss Dedjoy, time for the transporter to recharge? Mister Sonak, slow down or inconvenience our quarry if you can, please. Miss Dox, plot an intercept course... slingshot around Earth to get up speed while the transporter recharges and be prepared to draft another starship in the timestream." Having snuck into the alley to get some privacy, Rita considered her options as she broke into a run for where Mudd's ship had been located. They might have to leave her behind to catch Mudd if he couldn't be tracked. Smelling the pine trees, the feel of the wind of her home planet bracing her cheeks and filling her lungs as she ran to cheat destiny was a thrill for her, for this was her home planet, to which she always felt a connection. More of a pit stop than a shore leave, but at least I got to set foot on Terra Firma.

Back on-board the Danu, Dox immediately helped S'Rina up and ran to the helm. "Aye, Commander, I'm on it!"

"Forty five seconds to transport. As for Mudd's ship, we have tracking on him already. He'll be gone in twenty seconds and... Lucky just got a ping on him." There was silence as Ila worked at the displacement drive console.

From the helm, Dox was working quickly as the speedy Runabout began accelerating around the planet. "Course laid in and ready for maximum escape speed."

''There is no need for haste,'' came the deep voice of Sonak, as he entered the forward compartment. Face bruised and clothing torn, but otherwise showing no other serious consequences from his tussle with an android. ''My first action when I boarded his craft was to inspect Mudd's nav computer settings. If I may, Lieutenant... as I boarded his craft, I noticed Mudd's preloaded nav program bound for these specific spacetime coordinates.''

He came to the navigational console and input a spacetime trajectory he had already calculated in his head.

''Omega system, planet IV, stardate 4447.5, at the outer edge of the sector patrolled for the last six months by the USS Exeter under the command of Captain Ronald Tracy.''

''We know this is not a particularly important point in the timestream," Sonak continued, plotting an appropriate pursuit trajectory. "Affecting the events there would not significantly alter History; at least, not along the intent of Mister Mudd. If he is aiming at that particular place and time, it is for another, very specific reason that would help him achieve his end goal.''

"It's a ghost ship," Rita recalled, having read the tale of the fate of her old ship's doppelganger in this reality when she had arrived in the Prime Universe. "The entire crew except for Tracy and the landing party's corpses were powder in their uniforms on the deck... a bioweapon that had mutated on the surface, that could only be countered by the planet's radiation, I think? Kirk apparently didn't think to tow it or call for someone else to do it, and theoretically, the orbit decayed and she fell, and she burned."

''Chief Medical Officer McCoy of the USS Enterprise did the first and most extensive study of the affliction,'' Sonak reminded them all. ''The original victims of the bioweapon had spread a counteragent in their environment. Exposing oneself to planetary conditions for at least five point three consecutive hours acts on biological matter like a vaccine to the contaminant. As for the Exeter, Starfleet General Order 35 left no alternative; should the entire personnel of a Starfleet vessel or installation become severely incapacitated or deceased due to an environmental or medical contaminant, said vessel is to be destroyed within a 24-hour period from initial discovery of cause to prevent spread of the epidemic agent.''

On the surface, Rita's countdown was ticking. She couldn't count the seconds of the day in her head to keep track of linear time like Sonak could, but close proximity to both him and danger had given her a pretty good internal clock. It was time to beam up. Stopping her running, she stood still, closed her eyes and took in a deep, cleansing breath.

You are a Starfleet officer, you are mission commander, and you are going to DO this. You are not going to freak out and fall apart, you are not going to have an anxiety attack, and you are going to be fine, because the transporter isn't going to scramble or hurt or molest you. You are going to walk off that pad just fine and take charge because that's what your crew are looking to you for, and that's what they need to get the job done.

Opening her eyes, Paris finished psyching herself up.

Go save the galaxy.

"Miss Dedjoy, beam me up," Paris ordered, taking off the hat and running her fingers through her hair as she began the transformation into energy. While she was still aware of the sensation- every atom, every molecule of her matter exploding into energy as it was encoded into the beam- it was no longer painful. It still took much longer to her perception than relative time outside the annular beam, but she watched the planet Earth fly away from her, faster and faster, until she was beside her world, there in space, with great brown patches and no ice caps.

The world their pioneers had needed to repair, recover and heal in order for their children to reach for the stars. To whom she would be of the inheritors who would blaze the trail for the generations to follow. Noble pioneers of the stars, driven by human ingenuity and the urge to explore strange new worlds.

Coalescing back into matter, she realized that she'd been lost in thought, and found it curious. She wondered what Sonak's perspectives would be on the phenomenon later as she felt herself returning to matter, the weight of gravity once more tugging upon her as she was rebuilt, atom by atom, molecule by molecule, back into the local yokel in the overalls. Who moved to step confidently off the transporter pad, stepped on her long-trailing trouser cuff and tripped, sprawling on the deck.

"I'm okay! I'm okay!" the embarrassed commander said as she scrambled to her feet, then couldn't resist a laugh at how embarrassing that had been. From the helm, Dox let out a silent sigh of relief for Rita. As she righted herself, Rita stopped, her blue eyes locking with the steel grey eyes of Sonak.

"A Constitution class. Spend a few hours on the surface and you're cured of the plague that killed the entire crew, so then what you have is a pristine Constitution class circa 2367. A remarkably sturdy chassis, very adaptable. That's why Mudd's going to steal the Exeter- Jim Kirk abandoned her to gravity and history. It's the perfect crime- no one will ever know she's missing."

''Not quite,'' Sonak corrected her. ''Records show that Kirk did his duty and followed General Order 35; any vessel or installation compromised with a contaminating agent must be destroyed within twenty-four hours. Simply abandoning the ship in orbit could result in someone finding her and boarding her to die; or if immune, like let's say androids, become carriers and spread the affliction to other worlds. A starship falling from orbit would threaten the inhabitants of Omega IV. So Captain Kirk followed the most efficient, logical procedure in the book for such a situation. That is, send the ship on a direct course towards the sun, monitoring it all the way to make sure not even a piece of contaminated debris would ever escape total disintegration.''

The Vulcan read everyone's unavoidable question on their faces and answered it before anyone could voice it.

''Once the Exeter would be close enough to the sun's corona, it would be impossible for sensors to detect; only the explosion of it's warp core. Thus, the Enterprise could never know that this exploding warp core would in fact be that of Mudd's ship, hidden in the Exeter's hangar deck. With 24th century metaphasic shielding technology, the Exeter could then hide within the sun's corona until the Enterprise departed the Omega system. His own ship's cannibalized tech would easily allow him to turn a 23rd century vessel to full automation. Then, Mudd could slingshot himself back to an earlier era to alter history as he initially intended; destroy the Vulcans during First Contact, this time with a starship from the future, and in doing so, usher the first step in rebuilding the Terran Empire.''

Again, he anticipated their objections.

''We would not be there to stop him; he correctly deduced that we would chase him through time again. But by the time we would retrace his steps and perhaps deduce what he would do and try to pursue him, he would already be back here to finish the job, this time before we could again interfere.''

Sonak explained further after a pause.

''With a ship two centuries advanced beyond the technology of this time, he would be unstoppable in his bid to become the first Terran Emperor, once the Enterprise E would have departed. Or he could do even better; bring Captain Picard and his crew to their end and seize a 24th century battlecruiser. Even Lieutenant Commander Data with his then organic grafts would fall victim of the contaminating agent of Omega IV left on the Exeter. A few hours planetside would have immunized Mudd to it, just like it did for Tracy, Kirk, Spock and McCoy as records show; giving himself up as a starship thief and a temporal directive violator to get aboard would be all that he would need to do.''

"I'd be a fool to think it wasn't him taking a stab at us personally, but how would he know?," added Rita Paris. "In this universe, our counterparts were never assigned to the Exeter, although Michael Stuart was... poor devil." In their quarters hung the best photo they could find of him from this universe- still clad in red, a handsome dashing fellow, though not quite as handsome as the one Rita and Sonak had once known as their captain.

In their reality, the heroic engineer had led a rebellion against the power-mad Tracey, and managed to limp the starship home with the rest of the landing party and Tracey in the brig. In the 'clean sweep' protocol of crew replacement, both Sonak and Paris had been brought aboard, and it was their experiences connected to the USS Exeter that had brought the star-crossed lovers together. It held a special place in their hearts; because no sailor ever forgets a ship they love, even if it was only expressed as an extreme satisfaction with one's starship assignment.

Sonak shook his head.

''I do not think he has us in mind, Commander. We are a deterrent to his scheme, not a catalyst. I suspect securing the Exeter is his plan B to alter history right here, right now.''

"So we have his chronal coordinates," Paris mused aloud. "Since time is literally on our side for a change, what do you say we show up a little early and get ourselves some immunity...?"

This time, Sonak nodded approvingly.

''A logical approach, Commander. However, it will prove unnecessary.''

Again he answered her silent, questioning yet mildly bemused expression.

''While I was aboard his craft post disabling his internal security system, I glanced at his nav computer, as I said. And may I respectfully remind you, Commander, that I hold an A7 certification in computer science.''

The sudden light in her eyes and the smile that began to spread across her face as the eybrows rose in the unasked question, now anticipated his concluding explanation.

''I hid a simple trojan horse subprogramming inside his original nav sequence, to be triggered instead of his previous coordinates once activated; and I suspected he would be in too much of a hurry to do but a cursory check before launch. I had hoped to apprehend him myself... but he was far more resourceful than I anticipated. Nevertheless, he obviously failed to see his spacetime coordinates change from 4447.5 to 78997.8; from 2265's Omega IV to Tantalus IV, circa 2396.''

His deadpan tone filled the silence.

''I suspect the guarding starship and the defense stations of our own time period would diligently and efficiently intercept an unregistered vessel, especially one suddenly appearing in orbit of one of the Federation's most secure penal colonies.''

Ila flashed a grin and fired off a message to their own timeline via the interface and Lucky, informing them of Mudd's imminent arrival. "I almost wish I could see the look on his face. I hope security has body cams on. Commander, at your order, we can jump once more to our own time."

Nodding gratefully to the crew around her, Rita Paris smiled nodded, then pointed that finger she favored to gesture with so often toward the viewports... toward the future.

"Let's go."

------

In 2396...

The trick was to ride the momentum you had from exceeding warp 10 to where you wanted to go, and to just sleep off all that extraspatial chronal lag. So when Mudd slowly woke up from the effects of the slingshot, it was to see that his ship was surrounded by system patrol craft with flashing blue and yellow lights. One of them had his ship in a tractor beam and his comm systems were blinking.

Grinning, Davo Mudd reached for his engine controls, only to find that the helm was unresponsive for three reasons. One, he was almost out of antimatter. Two, his warp coils were fused from the trip. Three, these were not the expected tractor beams of 2268 but of 2396 and there was no way he was breaking a lock from them, even with all the tricks he had. They'd just lock another on him as he tried to get away with his fused warp coils. He didn't even have enough power left to disguise his ship anymore.

His grin turning to a sneer of disgust and sliding effortlessly into a grimace of rage, his hands flew across the consoles trying everything... Anything... To escape.

That was when his comms crackled to life of their own will, the system patrol goons having hacked their way past his security. "Davo Mudd, this is Starfleet Security. We've been briefed on your recent activities and demand that you surrender yourself immediately for trial."

"No! Damn you! It was that woman with that Artan Princess... That blond buxom bombshell that looked like a pinup poster for the Terran Empire... She's the one that followed me across time and foiled my plans, isn't she? Rita... Rita Paris!" Davo Mudd shook his fist at the ceiling as half a dozen heavily armed and armored MACO beamed onto his little ship.

"I will have my vengeance Rita Paris! This I swear, upon the blood of Mudd!"

Overseeing the deck nine mess halls which were joined through a small corridor, Cicero had moved back and forth for a while making sure that the enlisted crew mess and officer's mess were ready for chow time. The culinary ticket for the officers today was heavily leaning towards seafood and vegetables. Of course, Cicero put a little of his own touch on things, but Starfleet had their standards and guidelines as to what to feed a hungry crew. He ultimately settled himself down and planted himself in the officer's mess serving food for the individuals who entered through the doors and got into line.

Working the line, Cicero had served a few officers who received their food and took a seat. He had not seen any of the starship's Department Heads or the Captain's senior staff yet until the doors parted ways and the red-haired gray uniformed man with rather fascinating facial hair and a very old fashioned appearance to him came through the doors. It was not like what was being served to the standard junior and senior officer's was bad. It was all good, but Cicero did know how to treat the heads of Departments and members of the Captain's senior staff with a little extra care.

Cicero put on a very sweet smile when the Chief Intelligence Officer neared. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant. How are you doing today?" he asked the man. Cicero wanted to mingle a bit with Clemens and others. He wanted to get to know the crew and get to know things they liked or disliked as well as any dietary needs that they may have. "I hope you came nice and hungry, Sir" added Cicero.

Intel Chief Clemens had a PADD in hand, as he entered the room. Without looking up from it, he managed to avoid any collisions in the fairly-busy messhall as he approached the line.

At the sound of Cicero's cheery voice, the Southern-fried Secret Sorcerer refocused his attention to the man addressing him.

His internal HUD ran through the service record of the chef, as Sam flashed a fusion-powered grin, and replied, "Off'suh DEE-lah-croyah! It's a playz-yuh t'fin'leh meet'yuh, suh. Ah've bin heah'in' awl soahts'uh good stuff 'bout yuh talent fuh makin' happeh bellies happen, heayah!"

The culinary specialist smiled shyly. He was humbled by the scuttlebutt that he was making bellies happy. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant, and thank you. I have been trying my best to serve the crew some tastes from their homes and expand their culinary senses a bit" he said pleasantly.

"What makes your belly happy?" asked Cicero with a bashful smile. "I do take requests. Well, at least I listen to people and what they like and would want to see, but I do try my best to wave my spatula around and make a little magic happen in the galleys."

Clemens mused, "D'yuh know how tuh make chick'n 'n dumplins? Spoon-style, nawt rolled?"
He looked wistful. "Ah miss muh ma's cookin'."

Cicero pursed his lips and stroked his chin. "Well, I do know how to make dumplings, several sorts of them, and I know how to make chicken. Chicken and dumplings shouldn't be an issue, but I may need to consult the Federation culinary database about 'spoon-style'" replied the young culinary specialist. "Where's home for you, Sir?" asked Cicero.

"Ah hayuhl outta Miss-ooh-rah, in thuh Yew-Knight'd-Stay'ts uv 'Mehr'cuh, ahn Uh'th, 'bout halfway 'round thuh plah'nit fruhm thuh Fed'ray'shuhn Cah'pit'uhl. An' wheah d'you hay'uhl fruhm, if'n ah may ahsk?"

Cicero felt the distinctive feature on his forehead. "My mother's side of the family are Napean, but I call Earth home. My father is human. I think I got most of his looks except for my mother's donut like a crescent, but it's necessary. I consider myself from France and most of my human ancestors were French."

Clemens looked wistful at the mention of his homeworld. "Well, thuh Frain'ch've always been good cooks. Ah knew a gal in N'oh'lins, once- ah sweah it musta been huh g'netics- she made it look like cha'ld's play t'make all them fluffeh pay'strees, 'n cakes that it'd take th'Corps of Engineers a muhnth t'design- so fahst it'd make yuh haid spin."

He smiled, and added, "Ah think this heah ship needs someone lahk you, suhn. Someone tuh r'mind 'em that it's nawt awhl fights, 'n'stress, 'n'pay'hn."

The young chef smiled at the compliments. "Thank you," he said showing his gratitude to the man. "I may not be much of a fighter and I am not that great outside of my domain here, but I take my duties seriously. It is my job to make sure that the crew is well fed and that you all get to enjoy some of the luxuries from back home. It helps with morale which is something important especially in a war, but things are good and when things are good, the crew are happy. The happier the crew more they want to eat things that keep them that way."

Clemens nodded at the cavalier chef, acknowledging his expertise. "Ya reckon ah could get a mess o'chicken n' dumplins, sometahm soon? No bones needed- muh ma always jus' used reg'luh ol' breast meat. In th'meantahm, ah'm a'gonna have a seat an' look ovuh th'menu uv th'day, ovuh heah." He waved toward the seating area.

"I'll see what I can do" replied Cicero. "Go have a seat and I'll get to work before I get written up for being too social" teased the young man. It would not be the first time he had been written up for mingling with the crew longer than necessary while on duty. Some places were more tolerant about 'customer service,' but others wanted you to just exchange a hello, answer dietary questions, and send them on their way. He did not feel that the Hera was like this, but he still did not want to test those waters yet.

At the helm of the modified j-type freighter, the Khallianen, Jaeih Dox, was concentrating on the task at hand. Onboard the unexpectedly fast ship, the property of the Hera's Chief Flight Control Officer, the freshly minted independent Intelligence Operative for the U.S.S Hera piloted her daughter's ship. In the main hold behind her, all dressed in civilian clothes for the mission ahead, was the Vulcan refugee from a dimension of horrors, Az'Prel, the literal mountain of a woman that was the Hera's resident biologist, Ahreva Malana, and the Hera's newest transfer, the Cardassian Intelligence officer, Ensign Varnok.

The quartet was warping their way towards the planet Inris IV, deep in Orion controlled space, territory of the Syndicate. The world was a waystation for all sorts of less-than-desirable types. Slavers, criminals, smugglers, cutthroats, pirates and more. And it was the home of an establishment called the Drelax club. An elicit location owned by an Orion woman of great interest to the Captain of the Hera, Enalia Telvan- the Orion woman who was the genetic basis for the Captain's holographic wife, Maica.

Back on the Hera, there was a baby named Moira. A flawed clone of the captain's mother, Arenara Artan,.. which was dying. Rushed through genetic development, the newly adopted daughter of Enalia Telvan needed a transfer of stable DNA from two sources to survive. Enalia herself and Maica. And the target of this mission was the closest thing to Maica's DNA that was possible.

But because the mission was deep in Orion controlled space, it was a mission that could fall under the purview of either Starfleet OR the Captain's Artan pirate family, the sworn enemies of the Syndicate. As such, a very covert mission had been planned, and they were nearing their destination.

"ETA to the Inris system in 20 minutes. So far, the cloak is holding firm and we have made it past the checkpoints. Once we're there, we beam in, identify the subject and do what we have to do to get what the Captain needs." Jaeih Dox was, by no means, in charge. But as a former member of the Romulan Tal'Shiar, she was very used to giving orders and organizing teams.

"While I would normally be looking forward to observing such a place as the target is reputed to be associated with over many seasons..." Malana looked between those she could, fixing them each with her literally stony gaze. "I understand the need for expedience and will do my best to obtain the necessary tissue and blood samples."

"Thank you, Miss. Malana." Jaeih replied from the helm. "Once we have obtained the target's permission, of course." The follow up was spoken with the faintest hint of sarcasm, as the woman who taught the helmsman of the Hera to fly put the ship on autopilot for a moment

"That said, we need to insure we are prepared. Have you much experience with... covert missions of this sort, Miss Malana?"

"I have remained completely motionless for several dozen seasons just to watch trees grow, if that compares," Malana offered hopefully.

Blinking, Jaeih cricked an eyebrow and nodded at Az'Prel. "I believe these are... excellent criteria for the role of 'ominous, silent bodyguard' for the purposes of this mission. Would you concur, Az'Prel?"

"I would," replied the Vulcan woman, one eyebrow raised. "I have sensitive hearing and I freely admit that during this entire trip, I have heard little to no sound from you. I would rate your stealth abilities as more than satisfactory for this role."

Nodding, Jaeih agreed as she turned her attention to the equally quiet Cardassian in the rear of the ship who was reading from a PaDD. "Having read your personnel file, it appears you have significant experience on covert, undercover missions Mr. Varnok. I apologize that I did not have time to meet you before this mission."

The studious Cardassian looked up from the PaDD at the woman addressing him, “No apology necessary Jaeih. To answer your question, on my last assignment my skills were utilized quite frequently for covert missions. Who would ever guess that a Cardassian would be Starfleet material?” He gave his companions a brilliant smile.

"Nobody I know, but then they never would have imagined me working with Starfleet either," Jaeih said as she stood up, letting out a slight sigh. She was wearing a black leather jacket over a tight black turtleneck and olive green pants. Reaching into the inside pocket of her jacket she pulled out three small cards.

"As a smuggler, my daughter and I lived very simply. No luxuries to speak of. THAT was because I was stockpiling every credit and strip of illicit latinum we earned for my future needs. It's hardly a fortune, but today represents a 'future need'." As she spoke, Jaeih handed a card to each member of the team.

"Minor briberies or purchases may be required in this endeavor. And any of us may need to do so separately from the others. As such, we should be prepared. Just... don't splurge." Jaeih rolled her eyes and sat back down at the helm.

Varnok grinned wider” Thank you Jaeih, I have some gifts for us as well.” The Cardassian Ensign lived for covert operations, and his mind was alive with possibilities. Reaching into a tactical case, he retrieved four Micro-cochlear communicators, five Emergency Transporter Tags or ETTs and two new identification cards for Az'Prel and Malana and placed them on the table. “Yeoman Dedjoy was kind enough to supply us with these” the Ensign stated, handing each woman a communicator. Varnok explained. “They fit inside our ears, making un-necessary our communication badges- and they are undetectable.”

Next the Cardassian Ensign presented Az”Prel and Malana with their new identification cards,” These were a little harder to come by, but I managed to get you both cards that will hold up under any Orion scrutiny. Please become familiarize yourself with the information on them.”

“What we have here,” Varnok continued, holding up the ETTs with a grim expression, “Is our way out if things go wrong.” The Cardassian placed one in each outstretched hand, “These Emergency Transporter Tags will bring us immediately back to the ship.” Holding up an extra EET, “And an extra if we need to extradite our target.” Varnok turned and handed Jaeih a PaDD, “This contains all the intelligence that I have gathered on said target.”

Listening, the elder Romulan had the slightest of smiles crack the corners of her well trained poker face. "Very impressive, Mr. Varnok. And, of course, I have several contacts on the station and am a known miscreant, so a false identity would only arouse suspicions for me."

Taking the PaDD, Jaeih looked it over before transferring the data to the ships screens. On the screen appeared the profile of a middle aged Orion woman who looked all but identical to the Captain's wife, but older and with a look of hard weariness to her.

"Her name is Zhedda. Former Intel had her listed under multiple aliases designed to hide her, but we've identified her as the proprietor of an establishment known as the Drelax Club, located in the southwestern Province of Inris IV." Jaeih recited the information glanced from the file with the learned skills of a lifetime intelligence operative.

"And while Zhedda owns the club, she herself is still the property of the Syndicate boss who runs the province, a man named Kor'aah. Kor'aah. He is off world, and we may be able to use her ownership to our advantage." Handing the PaDD to the Vulcan woman of mystery, Jaeih nodded and gave her the floor.

The stoic Vulcan woman surveyed the layout of the facility, giving it her assessment. "Security is outdated but looks to have full coverage for such a facility. The front areas have weapons detectors and seventeen bouncers listed on the payroll, with nine on duty at any time. The back rooms have stun turrets set to target anyone without an escort or an ID. Ventilation and maintenance access has regular baryon sweeps at six minute intervals. I do not recommend using them. I recommend being upfront and honest with her, but gaining an audience may require a significant bribe and expenditure at the dabo tables to get past her retinue of security, which I suspect is actually on Kor'aah's payroll."

"A logical supposition, Az'Prel," Jaeih replied as she turned back to the helm and began working at the console. "Orion slavers like to protect their investments. Dropping out of warp, disengaging cloak. We're simply here to do business like everyone else, but be ready for anything. Chances are high that nothing will go as planned on this mission."

At full impulse, the ship moved from the outer rim of the Inris system to their destination, passing through the checkpoints with the masterfully falsified ships transponder information working perfectly. After a few tense minutes, they were cleared to land on the outskirts of the station perimeter. All was going well... So far.

As they landed, Jaeih put the ship’s computer into a repeating power cycle. It would appear to be powered down to sensors, but ready to leave in an instant. "The district has transporter inhibitors, but Mr. Varnok's tags act as pattern enhancers so we should be able to cut through any interference with ease in an emergency. Otherwise, we're on foot and unarmed." Jaeih said as they gathered at the hatch to disembark.

"Computer. Initiate lockdown procedure delta seven nine, Dox." The Romulan operative said to the ship. With a chirp, it replied.

=^= Lockdown Procedures initiated. Dox, Jaeih. Jahal, Varnok. Az'Prel, Malana, Ahreva. DNA and access only confirmed. =^=

"Very well. Let's move." Jaeih said grimly as the hatch opened onto the dank, rain-soaked night streets, the group was hit by a wave of deep humidity. Inris IV was an unpleasant planet with dark, swirling storm clouds that seemed omnipresent and made the surface feel like the deepest, darkest night no matter what hour of the day it was. An ideal location for those that wanted to do business away from prying eyes and the disinfecting glare of light.

The street was largely bare as there were only a few eyes to turn at the away team’s arrival. Az'Prel shot Jaeih a slight glance that expressed her intent to exit the craft first. Her senses, enhanced speed and strength made it the logical choice that she would take the front position. Jaeih simply nodded as the two bond-sisters had become increasingly in sync on their relatively few missions together as if they had been a team all their lives. Once confident that their path was as safe as possible, Az'Prel simply assumed a more casual posture and started walking.

Jaeih smiled ever so slightly and she gestured with her head as the remaining three operatives exited the craft and followed the Vulcan rebel from another reality towards the end of the main thoroughfare and their destination- the Drelax Club.

The walk was tense, but uneventful. There was a crowd collected out the front of the club, mostly patrons there to see the legendary Orion dancers they knew to be within. But a few were there clearly for business. Illicit business. And the Hera four blended quickly with that crowd. Making their way to the door, Jaeih slipped out her own tattered and worn identification. She was known in this world and hoped that that, combined with the latinum sticking out under her ID card that would expedite their entry.

The Nausiccan at the door sneered down at Jaeih while palming the latinum. "You expected?" He growled.

"No. New business. But business is good." She said flatly, as Az'Prel and Varnok surveyed the crowd for potential trouble while Malana simply stood behind them all, staring grimly at the Nausiccan. She may not have been a bodyguard, but she absolutely looked the part.

The Nausiccan nodded and put his palm on the door pad as the door wooshed open to reveal a cacophony of music and lights within. The club was clearly quite busy that night. As they entered, the guard offered a respectful head nod at Malana, whom he assumed was on the job, same as him.

The stony Malana returned the nod respectfully, her unblinking eyes tracking the guard and taking in everything around them.

Once inside, Jaeih clicked her tongue in her mouth. A subtle activation for their internal ear comm system. After a second, she whispered as lightly as possible in the din of the bustling room. "Comm check. Can you hear me?"

In spite of the din of activity, her voice came through as clear as a bell, as if she were whispering in each person's ear directly.

"Five by five," came the voice of the interdimensional Vulcan freedom fighter, using ancient radio lingo for 'loud and clear'.

Malana was next to respond with a gravely, "Aye, perfectly."

"Copy," replied Ensign Varnok plainly as he continued to survey the room.

"Excellent," Jaeih whispered. "Then let us..." But the elder Romulan woman was immediately cut off by a fat Ferengi who pushed through the crowd with outstretched arms and a sharp toothed smile.

"DOX?!? Jaieh Dox! I couldn't believe it when I saw you come in here from the bar! Come! Come!" The former smuggler froze for a second before whispering to the other three over her comm.

"Imirrhlhhse... I know this one from the old days. I'll handle this, split up," she whispered through a gritted tooth grin. She had hoped her old contacts might be useful, but wasn't expecting this.

Returning the awkward hug from the Ferengi smuggler, she glanced to watch as Az'Prel, Malana and Varnok vanished into the crowd. "Daimon Maron! It's been too long. How have you been?"

Az'Prel clicked her comms on and mumbled into them. "Malana with me, Jahal, cover the perimeter. Keep eyes open for the target." As she spoke, she scanned the bar for the Orion woman, or someone that might know where she might be. She knew that if things were like her old universe, the barkeep would be the one to ask for such information, but it would take buying a drink at an insane price. Thankfully, she had Jaeih's credit, although she didn't know how far it would extend.

Thus as she made a loop between the dance floor and the tables, she headed to the bar in the back to make such in inquiry, doing her best to avoid the dancers trying to ply their wares upon her.

The lithe Cardassian moved off through the crowd, looking for a place to perch so that he could further survey the room. Varnok knew the dancers could be a good source for information for the right price, and a charming smile. Surveying the interior, it always fascinated him how different, but yet the same these interstellar lounges were. Finding an opening on the rail overlooking the stage, he had a total view of the room. As predicted, a beautiful young Orion woman gracefully glided up to him, hips swaying to the beat of the deafening din of the room.

"You look like you could use some company," she said seductively as she caressed Varnok’s shoulder.

Turning to face her with a brilliant smile of his own, the undercover Ensign replied. "I was just waiting for the most exquisite woman in the room to offer to join me." The smile she returned was positively charming and coy (a practiced response, to be sure) "I'm Novaa, aren't you the handsome one?" she purred as she took his arm directing him over to a table. Catching a server's attention Varnok put 2 fingers in the air and pointed to the table, as the couple took a seat.

Turning to the sweet-smelling woman beside him, the Cardassian was thankful he took the tonic he had prepared earlier. It would not be good for the mission if the pheromones that Orion women emitted derailed his mind. The server appeared with two of the house special ‘Solar Expresses’ from the look of the drinks. As Novaa picked up her drink, she ran her tongue slowly across the rim and stared at the young man next to her. "So I've never been with a Cardassian before, but I've heard they can do wonderful things with their neck."

"Such wonders I could show you,” he leaned over to whisper softly in her ear. As he sat back up, he slowly ran a finger across her cheek and pressed a strip of latinum in her soft hand.

A soft blush arose faintly across her minty cheeks, before the young woman composed her practiced pout and took a sip off her drink. The Cardassian thought to himself, good his initial observation was correct she was a new girl, not jaded yet as all slave girls eventually become. Catching her eyes he gestured to their immediate surroundings. "The beat in here really gets the blood flowing" grinning boyishly he continued. "I was here several years ago, and it was not as upbeat."

Novaa sat up excitedly and sat her drink down "Oh, that's because the new owner really changed things up!" rambling on she continued," Several of the older girls said that it used to a real downer, but when Zhedda bought the place she took it to a whole new level!" Blushing brighter than before and looking around uncomfortably, the young Orion dancer whispered, “They say she was the lead girl here for years and Kor'aah's favorite.”

With the utterance of that name mentioned during the briefing, Varnok's blood went cold. It was a name he did not like to think about. Luckily for the Ensign, not one he needed to concern himself with any longer, but that was a story for another day. Turning his attention back to the sultry dancer, Varnok continued, his eyes selling his words "I'm sure she lets you ladies have the run of the place then."

Leaning back and running a practiced hand through his longish hair, he continued to play the sly seduction game with the naive dancer. "Oh no, she keeps an eye on us from up there." Novaa pointed to a dimly lit balcony overlooking the club. Gently kissing Novaa on the cheek Varnok stood up, then held out his hand to the younger woman, pulling her close.

"Let’s find a more private place shall we? Perhaps one of the upper secluded booths?" The Orion smiled stunningly and nodded as she led the way to the upper levels.

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

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bustling Drelax club, the fat Ferengi had lead Jaeih to his table where he plopped down into the plush booth seat, flanked by two naked Orion dancers. Jaeih followed, keeping an eye out for trouble.

"Jaeih DOX! It's been... what? Ten years? Fifteen? Where have you been?" The cagey swindler asked, taking a sip from his drink on the table. As he did, he gestured to the chair opposite him on the other side where she sat. "Word has it you got pinched by Starfleet?"

"Sixteen, actually." Jaeih replied as she flagged down a server, a scantily clad Orion woman, who slid over. "Kali-Fal." She ordered, without taking her eyes off of the Ferengi.

"And unfortunately, you heard correctly. Our ship’s cloak failed at a particularly bad time and a Federation patrol ship caught us in the middle of a deal. Declan got sent to a Federation penal colony, and I was... eventually... extradited to the Klingons, as I was caught on the edge of their space, and our ships nav logs had us just coming from there." Jaeih replied, only half lying. A lifetime of working in intelligence and smuggling had taught her that the best lies were buttressed by as much truth as possible.

"Rura Penthe?" The Ferengi replied inquisitively, leaning in.

As her drink returned, the elder Romulan nursed it without ever taking a sip. "For a time. A twelve-year sentence. I have the... scars... to remember it with, I'm afraid." Jaeih winced slightly as she fidgeted slightly, feigning uncomfortability. But it was a convincing performance, as the Ferengi's face shifted to a more relaxed expression.

"Well..." he replied dramatically with a smile. "It's wonderful to see you back! You've been missed, my dear. Which makes me curious as to what brings you here this fine evening? Business, I hope?"

"Always a Ferengi, Maron." The elder Dox chuckled, "Yes, business. I have a client that's looking to unload a significant amount of... cargo. I don't have my old ship, but I still have some connections so I agreed to try and broker a connection for a... modest percentage."

The invented business deal flowed from her lips as if it were real as she spoke very matter-of-factly. "Do you know if Kre'on Ja'Balla is still running things here?"Name dropping the man Jaeih already knew had been replaced years ago, she was hoping to see exactly what the Ferengi knew and if he would possibly be of use.

"Ja'Balla?" The Ferengi scoffed as the Orion women on his arms mock laughed along with him, propping his ego like any good arm candy. "You really are out of the loop, my dear. Kor'aah had that useless Bolean ass shipped off the rim... near eight years ago. The establishment was purchased by one of his lovely ladies..."

As he spoke, he stroked a greasy finger across the thigh of the woman on his left, ignoring her slight shudder at his touch. "Zhedda runs the Drelax Club these days. Of course, not just anyone can meet with Zhedda. She's... particular about who she meets with."

Feigning annoyance, Jaeih sank in her seat, lowering her drink past the arm of her chair where she emptied half of it out under her chair. In the darkness and chaos of the club, the gesture was completely ignored but perpetuated the illusion that she was drinking it. "Hnaev... I really am starting over from scratch."

Leaning back on the table, Jaeih set her drink down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Looking over her shoulder as if she were being watch, the experienced operative wanted to make sure that the Ferengi man believed her performance so she decided to sweeten the imaginary pot. "Look, Maron. The cargo... it's a shipment of interphase generator coils. They've been overordering one per shipment at the Nhaidh shipyards for over a year now, and have seven crates. Thirty five coils. Enough to equip a small fleet with functioning cloaks. But without a buyer, they're sitting collecting dust. My percentage here is... 12 percent. I'm willing to cut that in half for the person who made the deal possible."

"The Ferengi took the bait AND the purposeful pause to attract his attention. "12 percent, Dox? Come now. What do you take me for? If we can't do business honestly, then we can't do business.”

Stifling a grin, JAeih instead put on an air of mock frustration and shook her head. "I'm trying to rebuild my life from next to nothing here, Maron. Hnaev! Fine. It's 15 percent. And half of that will be yours if you can get me an audience with this... Zhedda."

The fat Ferengi took a long swig of his drink, eyeballing Jaeih the whole time. After a tense half a minute of pondering, he sat back and laughed. "You made me a lot of profit back in the day, Dox. You've always been a good customer, and the Rule of Acquisition 57 says 'Good customers are as rare as latinum. Treasure them.' I'll make a call and see what I can do."

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

The Vulcan freedom fighter finally made it to the bar and slipped her card to the barkeep. "I'm looking to do business and I'm told that Zhedda is the only one with what I need."

"Keep yer latinum, lady. Zhedda only meets with those she deems worthy." The large male Orion barkeep glared at her as he resumed polishing glasses. The leather pants and bow tie did nothing for his dignity as that seemed to be about all he was wearing.

"Would it help with my worthiness if I said I was from another universe?" Az'prel offered, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the bartender.

"Perhaps. But then that would mean ya got in on a fake ID." Leaning in towards the Vulcan woman, his breath smelled horrible and Az'Prel had ample time to smell it with their faces inches apart. Still, she showed no hint of intimidation as he tried to do just that, grinning horribly. "So which is it, lady?"

With two fingers, Az'Prel pressed them under the large man's chin and lifted, easily pulling him up onto the counter so that his feet were a couple inches off the floor behind the counter. "Being from another universe, logically, any ID I use would be fake, now wouldn't it? After all, my ID from the mirror of this universe would not be valid in this universe, now would it?"

Struggling to balance, the barkeep tried to reply, but could only gulp with wide eyes as he gripped at the bar. "Following that logic, with what you now know of me and the mirror of this universe, you are able to surmise that I have likely fought and killed many Terrans. I may adhere to the principles of logic, but I am not adverse to violence." She then let the Orion down so he could gasp for breath and recover enough to answer her. "So... What do I need to do to get an audience with Zhedda?"

"Still gasping for air, he nodded and waved towards a balcony over the DJ booth. "I'll put in a good word for you, lady. I think she might be interested in hiring you for a job, if you're not too discriminatin'." He had thought that the stoic woman with the Vulcan was the muscle, but apparently he had it backwards. The Vulcan was the muscle, which meant the stony-faced woman behind her was likely the client that needed something from his mistress, and that thought kind of intimidated him.

-----------

After a few moments, each member of the team clandestinely checked in to let the others know that they were all on their way towards their mutual target. On the upper level office, overlooking the entire bar, the Fat Ferengi known as Maron led Jaeih Dox up towards the two towering Nausiccan’s guarding a large set of double doors.

“Gentlemen…” Maron said with a slightly nervous chuckle, “Mistress Zhedda is expecting us. We have… business.”

Looking down, the guards looked irritated. “Lotsa folks wanna see th’ boss tonight. I don’ like it.” There was a grumble from the two as they stared down at Jaeih with narrowing eyes. “We got our eyes on the both of ya’.”

But as they spoke, they also stepped slightly apart to give the visitors access to the doors. But as the Romulan woman and the Ferengi man began to step forward, one of the Naussicans put his hand flat on the Ferengi’s chest. “You wait here. Just her.”

Immediately, Jaeih began to get nervous. But it didn’t show on her perfectly crafted poker face as she nodded slightly towards Maron. “Very well, then. Thank you.”

With an indignant expression, Maron huffed slightly but was cowed by the massive guards. “I… Indeed. I’ll… I’ll wait out here. Don’t forget our deal, Dox!”

As she passed through the quietly opening doors, Jaeih nodded back at Maron, then stepped inside. As the doors whooshed shut behind her, she found herself standing in front of a large, ornate desk in front of a large one-sided transparent aluminum shield overlooking the bustling club. And even her sensitive Romulan ears could only barely hear the thumping chaos below. Behind the desk, sitting in a large, plush chair was Zhedda. The face was a near perfect match for the captain’s wife, though significantly older and more cagey looking. She eyed the Romulan woman suspiciously.

"So... Four people that look like they should have nothing to do with each other walk into my club and ask to see me in their own... Unique... Ways... You're the first one here and it looks like that Vulcan woman and the ah..." Zhedda consulted a datapad for a moment before tossing it back on her desk, scattering a stack of latinum strips in the process. "The Ashrevanian are next. I suppose the Cardassian is the actual client? Or are they off hiding somewhere?"

Holding up one hand, the Orion woman silenced any reply before Jaeih could begin. "No, I'd rather not know. You're all here for business and you believe I'm the only one you can do it with. That much is painfully obvious. So... You have one minute to tell me what you want and why I shouldn't send you packing with an extra smile."

"My name is Jaeih Dox, and I come to you as a representative of Enalia Artan, recently declared queen of the Artan family..." The elder Romulan woman said with a flat, plain voice. Their goal was an audience with Zhedda and they had achieved their goal. She was in the room and the others were on their way. "I am here to represent a business offer for you, in exchange for something that she is interested in acquiring. I have a small data module in my right jacket pocket, if I may."

The tension in the room could be cut with a phaser, but neither woman betrayed any anxiety.

The Orion woman stared coldly at the Romulan that had wormed her way into her office for several long moments before nodding. "I know of her. The Artans have foiled many Syndicate plots and I've heard that her wife is one of those Maica things I was paid to model for years ago. If it's lucrative and we can come to a mutual agreement..."

"As you then must know, Arenara Artan is gone. As such, the back door deal she had with the Orion Syndicate too, is gone." As Jaeih spoke, she pulled a small disc out of her pocked and held it in her upturned hand. "Queen Telvan will, as you can well imagine, be resuming the families... former relations with the Orions. A relationship that will be the exact opposite of lucrative for you. But she other matters to attend to first. One that, if we can do business here today, may give her reason to allow special protections to Inris Four... and the Drelax Club in particular."

As Jaeih spoke, a holographic representation of a small Trill infant hovered in the air over her hand. "This is Moira. Queen Telvan's daughter. And she is dying. She needs DNA from two sources to survive. One from the queen herself, and another from the queen’s wife. As you are the model for Maica, that DNA must be yours."

Deactivating the hologram, Jaeih placed it back in her pocket. "I tell you this not because I expect to appeal to your compassion, but to let you know exactly how committed the Queen is to making a deal with you." The cagey Romulan knew that she was giving up a significant amount of bargaining room, but it was a calculated risk and it was important for Zhedda to know how strong her own hand was if they were to succeed.

Zhedda nodded thoughtfully, fully realizing that the Romulan woman had likely played her entire hand in that confession. She seemed honest in this, at the very least, though it was hard to tell with Romulans, especially this one. "So your Queen gets an heir, and this becomes a sort of DMZ for our two peoples. That would be potentially lucrative for me. Unfortunately, as soon as my owner found out, I'd be replaced."

"I'm sorry, but even if I believed your story, in my position there's nothing I can do." The Orion woman began to turn her chair away dismissively, but stopped, pretending that something had just occurred to her, a slow grin creeping onto her face. "Unless of course your Vulcan friend is the type to never lie and can confirm all this... Oh, and you could do a little job for me... Something to help make sure I can keep my position here, you understand."

Without a moment of hesitation, Jaeih raised an eyebrow. "She is and can, isn't that correct, Miss Az'Prel?"

As she spoke, the double doors hissed open to reveal Az'Prel, Malana and Varnok standing ready. Dangling limply and asleep from Malana's arms were the two Naussican guards who were actually lightly snoring. "They're fine. Consider this a demonstration of our capabilities to perform this task of yours."

As Az'Prel set the two Nausicans aside, she added a bit more to sweeten the pot. "Indeed, we are more than capable. Also, I believe that Enalia Telvan would agree to keep this place off limits only if you are the proprietress, if that aids in your decision."

"Well... It's not often that I'm intimidated and reassured at the same time. Consider yourself hired." Pouring herself a brandy, Zhedda tossed a datachip and a trio of data taps to Jaeih. "You'll find the location of my owner's local unmanned surveillance center as well as the setup and security info. I want you to bang it up a bit, steal some data, plant two of those taps in relatively obvious spots. Make it look somewhat amateur. The third one, hide it in the main data trunk on the pipe leading out of the building to the transmitter. That's the real one. Your Ashrevanian is immune to the radiation so no one would think to look there. Should only take you twenty... Thirty minutes tops. Once you come back, and I have a feed, I'll give you as much DNA as you like, however you like."

Looking over the data briefly, Jaeih exchanged a brief glance to Az'Prel then back to Zhedda. "Of course, we have nothing but your word to assure us you will comply. That and our own knowledge that you know full well the value of our offer. But in this instance, know that I am trusting that it will be sufficient."

Placing the data taps in her pocket, Jaeih turned slightly to leave before pausing a second. "Not an heir... a daughter. A daughter whose mother's gratitude will extend far beyond your imagination this day."

The Orion woman was silent for a moment before replying softly, her back now turned to the Romulan woman. "You can trust me... I know the value of a daughter. Hopefully... Maybe, this will help me find her."

The unmanned surveillance station for the Orion Syndicate was a half a kilometer from the Drelax Club in an otherwise random-looking office building just off the main strip of clubs. And it was the newly acquired target for the quartet of agents from the U.S.S. Hera who had a mission to achieve and little time to do it in.

From across the street, three of the Hera's crew waited inside an abandoned housing complex marked as due for demolition. Jaeih Dox paced slightly, watching the door as the Hera's resident biologist of stone, Ahreva Malana, stood stoically in the corner of the burnt-out hallway next to the Cardassian Intel agent, Ensign Varnok.

Turning to the stoic Ashrevanian, who Varnok knew was a biologist and not an Intelligence operative whose unique biology would require her stepping into radioactive conditions to complete their mission, he said. "Do not worry. We will be able to talk you through whatever needs be done."

The stone woman nodded, looking over the data tap she would be expected to plant one more time. "I am used to monitoring biologicals with my own senses for extended periods of time, which sometimes includes surveillance gear, however... This is new territory for me."

After a few moments of silence following the exchange, the elder Romulan's sensitive ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, nearly as soft as a Caitian's, as the fourth member of the group slipped through the door, returning from a brief recon of their target.

"Az'Prel…" Jaeih asked plainly, betraying no anxiety. "What kind of security are we looking at over there?"

The Vulcan freedom fighter nodded and handed over a tricorder with the scans she had covertly taken. "No life forms, thankfully. However, both entrances are each covered with six independent disruptor turrets. The windows are plated over. It looks like a daily check is made and access is granted through a terminal at the front of the building. Encryption is fob authentication which relies on some sort of optronics system that I think I can overload with a pair of tricorders. It resembles Klingon systems I am familiar with. It will likely not deactivate the turrets though."

Checking the time, Jaeih frowned. Zhedda gave them an estimate of no more than a half hour to complete the task of bugging the surveillance station and returning, and the recon took seven of those minutes away. As such, they had to move fast but efficiently.

"So, we can get past the door locks but not the disruptor turrets at the two entrances. The windows are effectively shut off. However, out instructions are also to make this look sloppy. We can make a right mess." Jaeih commented as she thought over the situation.

"One possible idea is these walls on the second level. Scans indicate that hey are not reinforced and are far out of disruptor range." The clever Romulan pondered. "One possibility is a calculated leap from the second level of the adjacent building. And while you may not be disruptor-proof, Miss Malana, I suspect at the appropriate running velocity you might make a decidedly sturdy wrecking ball. Thoughts? Alternate ideas?"

Malana put two fingers to her ear for a moment as her communicator tried to translate fully for her. She then shook her head. "I am sorry but I do not understand. The closest word my people have for 'leap' is bounce. I have never bounced before, but you are correct - my people are quite destructive at higher velocities. My matron once fell from her perch on a cliff and shattered a shrine to dust while she only suffered a few chips to her extremities. She fell asleep holding a thousand-year vigil."

"That sounds... less than ideal." Jaeih replied with a sigh. "That this mission requires exposing you the radiation, regardless of it not affecting you, is already putting you at too much risk. There must be some alternate way of gaining entry and disabling the Repulsor turrets."

"Our transporter tags act as pattern enhancers. We can beam out back to the ship with ease, but with the transporter inhibitors all over this planet we can't get a clean signal in. Suggestions?" Jaeih addressed the group.

Az'Prel spoke up as she peered out one of the windows. "I have an idea. We punch a small hole in the upper floor with an energy weapon, then I throw one of our communications devices through it to use as a transport enhancer so we can get over there surreptitiously."

Pondering for the slightest of moments, Jaeih nodded. "I believe that may be our best and most covert option. I'm assuming that you are confident in your throwing skills or you would not have suggested it, Az'Prel?"

The Vulcan woman nodded. "At this distance, I am able to reliably hit a three centimeter target with ease with my daggers. With the added comm device, four centimeters would ensure enough clearance."

"Mr. Varnok, our ship is hardly federation-issue. Can you control the transporter from here... get us in and back out again remotely?" Jaeih asked.

'Aye' the Cardassian Ensign replied, "Just say the word."

"Well then, our clock is running down. Let's get this done." Jaeih said confidently. It was a solid plan and they were a skilled team. As such, it took only a few moments for Az'Prel to position herself to do the deed.

Skillfully, she recalibrated the phaser pistol she carried to punch a hole in the wall. Once the hole was there, she pulled out one of her throwing daggers, taped her cochlear comm device to it, and threw it across the alley almost casually, slipping it through the hole and landing it in the far wall with a solid thunk. "The device is planted."

Simply allowing a slight smile, Jaeih nodded approvingly at her partner as she turned back to the group. "Mr. Varnok, if you will."

Varnok took over the controls on his tricorder and plotted their coordinates, watching the women disappear. Seconds later, the trio of intel operatives appeared inside the unmanned surveillance station, ready to work. Whispering, Jaeih looked around as Az'Prel walked over and secured her throwing dagger and earpiece from the wall where she had expertly thrown them. "Fantastic work. Mr. Varnok is our fixed point to extract us. We only have a few minutes to manage this in, so let's get this done."

Nodding, Malana set about her task, unsealing the access crawlway to the rooftop transmitter and climbing inside to plant her data tap. "It is pleasantly warm inside here and there is a strange blue glow. Is that from the radiation?"

Sighing slightly and raising an eyebrow at Az'Prel, Jaeih replied through their comm line. "Yes. That is, in fact, the radiation. Please be quick as I do not want you to spend any longer in there than necessary."

Handing on of the remaining two tags to Az'Prel, the pointy-eared operatives silently got to work, ransacking the office and pocketing a few items at random to create the illusion of a break-in. While they did, Malana finished her task and made her way back down to the main chamber as Az'Prel and Jaeih each hid their own tags in much less well-hidden locations, designed to be found but not painfully obvious. After only a few short minutes, the trio was complete and reunited.

"Mr. Varnok..." Jaeih spoke into her comm. "We're ready for extraction. FULL radiation decom, thank you." And with a slight chirp, the three women vanished in an array of sparkling blue light, leaving the room a scattered mess as planned.

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

28 minutes after they had left the office of the Orion club owner, Zhedda, the quartet walked back in the doors, now expected and with time to spare. The two Nausicaan guards had been replaced by somewhat more intimidating Gorn, though none in the room seemed to be overly concerned with their blank, angry staredowns as they passed.

"We've completed our end of the agreement, Zhedda." Jaeih commented, flatly to the cagey criminal behind the ornate wooden desk.

The Orion woman greeted them with a wide grin and a raised glass of brandy. "And I've been getting a good feed from about eighty percent of Kor'aah's holdings on the planet for several minutes now. You've held up your end of the deal admirably. I owe you thanks and as much DNA as you like. Do you need blood? Tissue? A finger? A hand?"

Gesturing with her head to the massive Ashrevanian woman of stone, Jaeih said flatly, "Miss Malana is our biologist. She will procure the needed samples. If you would please, Miss Malana. Thank you."

The stone faced woman pulled out a pair of customized sample containers and held them aloft. "This will be relatively painless. I only need 130ccs of blood and 13ccs of tissue samples, preferably from dense muscle fibers. Your thigh meat would be a prime candidate for extraction of both."

"Relati... Biologist? You didn't even bring a doctor that could feel pain?" Zhedda just shook her head and got up to come around her desk and rest her ample rear on the edge of the front. "A deal is a deal though... Just try to be quick about it."

Malana nodded and moved in with the first sample container, pressing the business end against Zhedda's bare fleshy thigh and activating it. As it pierced her and sucked out the preset amount needed, the Orion woman winced in pain but amazingly did not flinch. Once it was done, she sealed it up and prepped the tissue sample container, pressing it hard against Zhedda's thigh just below the other location. "This will be... Uncomfortable..."

Once it was activated, 'uncomfortable' seemed to be an understatement, as Zhedda had to stifle a short scream of agony and nearly slipped off of the lip of her desk. Thankfully, the tissue sample was obtained much quicker and the torment was over quickly.

"Remind me never to hire you as my physician..." The Orion woman joked with a weak grin. "Now if you'll excuse me..."

"Indeed. I think you for honoring our agreement, and I can assure you that in light of what you have done here today, Queen Telvan will honor her's until her last breath is drawn and beyond. You have made a gracious friend today." Jaeih said plainly as she lifted and eyebrow.

Then the Romulan operative looked over her shoulder at Malana who was checking and securing the contents of their sample containers. "Miss Malana, Do we have what we need?"

The stone woman nodded as she tucked the sample containers away safely, the blood and tissue sealed away and in stasis. "And five percent extra just in case, just like Doctor Dael asked. With this, we'll be able to save Moira's life."

"Very well." Jaein replied, turning back to the sore club owner who did right by them. "Thank you again, Zhedda. It was a pleasure doing business with you in such a peaceful fashion."

"It was both mutually beneficial and a noble cause so..." The Orion woman winced as she returned to her plush chair behind her desk. "Yeah, it was a pleasure. Tell your queen her people are welcome here at any time, but no hunting. I intend to make sure that part of the deal is upheld."

"I will convey both messages and the queen will ensure that as well. Jolan Tru." As Jaeih spoke, giving a traditional Romulan 'farewell', with a nod the four operatives did what should not have been possible with the transport inhibitors in place and simply vanished from the room in a twinkle of blue light while Zhedda looked on. It was a less than subtle reminder that they could have easily taken what they wanted, but chose instead to seek friendship. A friendship that would bear the most precious of fruits for the life of little Moira Artan.

The small, j-type ship known as the Khallianen warped its way through deep space from the Orion Syndicate controlled world of Inris Four. Onboard, four operatives from the U.S.S. Hera rested, successful in their task to retrieve biological samples from a woman known as Zhedda.

The owner of the infamous Drelax Club, Zhedda was the biological model for holographic life form known as Maica, the wife of the Hera's Captain, Enalia Telvan. Together the two were newfound parents of the infant known as Moira Artan. An infant clone of Enalia's own mother, rushed through development and dying without an infusion of DNA from both parents. DNA now safely stored in the Khallianen's cargo hold.

Onboard was the Hera's resident biologist of stone, Ahreva Malana. The Vulcan freedom fighter from an alternate reality, Az'Prel. The Cardassian intelligence officer, Ensign Varnok Jahal. And at the helm, the former smuggler and former Tal'Shiar agent, the independent operative for the Hera, Jaeih Dox.

And Jaeih Dox looked troubled. Lost in thought, the elder Romulan woman was leaned over the control console, her head resting on her tented fingers while she thought silently.

As a whole, the ship was silent. Malana seemed to have all but frozen in place like a literal Boulder while Az'Prel meditated from her seat on the bench along the port bulkhead of the relatively small ship. Varnok seemed to be reading from a PaDD sitting closest to the bow of the ship.

There was a small cabin with a bunk, which was the property of the ships owner and Captain, Jaeih's own Daughter and the Hera's Chief Flight Control Officer, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox, and nobody seemed to be comfortable using it. As such, Jaeih stayed at the helm, watching as the stars streaked past the window, tiny rainbows against the blackness of space.

As she looked out the window, her thoughts fell back to the mission and the ease with which she found herself returning to intelligence work. The comfort she felt lying to targets in the field. The utter lack of remorse she felt for the Ferengi that she had manipulated to gain access to Zhedda. It’s likely that he would face some form of punishment from someone for compromising the clubs owner based on a lie he could have easily disproven had he not been so trusting. Had Jaeih not been so convincing.

There was always collateral damage in intelligence work, and becoming numb to those concerns was a quality that the former Tal’Shiar agent wasn’t sure she liked to have come back to her so easily. But it served its purpose and they were able to perform the job without any bloodshed. Well, any direct bloodshed on their part. They two guards that the team easily overcame would likely also face harsh punishments for their failures. For all Jaeih knew, all three were already dead. Possibly too the bartender that Az’Prel questioned. Maybe even the dancer that Varnok had seduced. They might all have paid for the team's efficiency. But she didn’t want to think about that, so she stared out the window hoping to clear her mind of doubts. Zhedda had turned out to have some measure of compassion during their meeting and agreed to help the Captain, so perhaps she would show leniency. 'Stranger things have happened.', Jaeih thought as she watched the stars streak past.

Which was when the usually alert Romulan woman was ever so slightly surprised when the Cardassian Ensign, Varnok, stepped up beside her next to the empty co-pilot seat.

looking down at the pensive Romulan, Varnok said, "Do you mind if I join you?"

Tilting an eyebrow at the Ensign, Jaeih nodded silently.

Taking a moment, Varnok turned towards the Lieutenant's Mother and asked, "If I may, you seem to have the weight of worlds on your shoulders."

Sighing slightly, Jaeih paused as she continued to stare out the windows. "Apparently so. This job was… easier when I had no future but it. Now I find I can't stop myself from pondering the ramifications of our actions. Moira will live, and that brings me… far more happiness than I imagined. And I am happier still for Enalia… for the Captain. But I can't stop thinking about what we left in our wake."

"I understand, as much as I enjoy these types of infiltration missions, there is always the aftermath. I try to not get anyone else more involved than they need be. It does not always work out that way, such is the nature of intel work" the Cardassian replied softly. "What it really means Jaeih, is that you have a soul."

Smirking slightly, more out of a desire to avoid going into the topic much deeper, Jaeih replied with a dry chuckle and a flat joke. "Perish the thought, Ensign. What kind of an intel operative would I be with one of those cumbersome things?"

"Someone who can cultivate friends and cherish loved ones....?" he chuckled back, turning more serious Varnok stated "Never scoff at the ability to care about people, you never know when you will no longer have the chance."

Realizing she was wearing her emotions on her sleeve with a man she hardly knew, Jaeih felt a little foolish and tried to redirect a hair to change that. "You seem to have quite the insight into such things, Mr. Varnok. But I do cherish the connections I've made... And those I work to repair."

"My apologies for being so direct. It is my curse I fear." Varnok nodded slightly and looked out the window. He really did not know when to keep his thoughts to himself, or so he been repeatedly told, as he remembered his experience on Earth.

"You're an Intelligence Officer, Mr. Varnok. You acted on your observations. Never scoff at that ability." Jaeih smiled lightly. She found the Cardassian man interesting and didn't want to be rude. "It is no curse. It is simply a personality. And one I hold no judgment of. I'm just an old woman with my own issues."

That was when Malana, the literal living statue, finished silently turning her head towards the pair and spoke, an empty teacup in her hand to try to look normal. "My people have been observing other life for millions of seasons and few of us take part in the bonds and connections others form between them. This thing called... Friendship. Family. Camaraderie. I have done so and I believe I have gained something greater than most of my people will ever come to know. What that is I still do not know and it may take me hundreds of seasons more to understand it, but I will endeavor to do so, at the risk of burning my own life force much quicker than that of the rest of my people."

"I know why I'm here..." Jaeih replied to the stoney biologist. "But... you say that such socialization is uncommon for your people. What brought you to serve with such social beings, then?"

"Curiosity and wanderlust. Most of my people cure their wanderlust by finding a planet with a developing people and lay down roots, pretending to be a statue for most of the rest of their lives... I chose to contact Starfleet and offer my services as a scientist. As I am young at only..." Malana looked distant for a moment as she counted how many seasons old she was. "Almost eight thousand seasons old now... I'll hit full maturity in another two hundred seasons or so."

As good a reason as any. And I retract my self-deprecating 'old woman's comment." Jaeih replied with a sky smirk. "And what of you, Mr. Varnok? If I may, you seem more social than most Cardassian's I've met. Is that what brought you out here? A need to connect?"

Varnok gave a slight smile to the Romulan woman at his side before replying " I wanted to make a difference after losing my parents in the war. As an orphan in Cardassian society, I had no value. I did not want to end up cleaning a shop on some remote planet with no prospects. Starfleet were our rescuers. When given the opportunity to go to a refugee encampment on earth I jumped at the chance. The rest, as they say, is history." Varnok studied Jaeih face for a moment and continued" but to answer your direct question, Yes I am quite different then most Cardassians."

The observant Romulan allowed a smile to crack her lips. Varnok hadn't exactly confirmed what she had sussed out as a need for personal connection, likely caused by years of being the kind of social pariah that was part and parcel of being a Cardassian in the federation. As a Romulan, it was something she knew had plagued her daughter throughout much of her life. But she chose to not dig too deep into anything the Ensign might be uncomfortable speaking of. At least for now.

As such, she switched the subject back to the stone-faced woman who had simply been observing silently. "So, miss Malana... Your people are observers. Hopefully, this mission provided you with topics of interest."

Malana closed her eyes for the first time since they had met and morosely bowed her head. "It has raised many questions and answered none. I will have to continue my observations and interactions for some time to come. Perhaps someday I will have a report to compile to my people, but if I do so it is doubtful they will pay it much heed."

"That sounds... Defeatist to some degree." Jaeih asked, genuinely curious as Malana's tone was the most emotional that the Romulan Intel operative had ever seen the generally stoic biologist. "Is your... choice to be here not supported?"

"No... I..." The stone woman's face contorted just the slightest bit, betraying the turmoil within her. This was definitely a difficult subject for her and a cause of what passed for grief and distress in an Ashrevanian. "My people consider me and those like me heretics. Not living my longest life... Taking part in the world around me rather than simply observing... The council of elders has deemed me a... Disruptive element... To our society. If I am to return home, it is at their allowance and likely only if I have learned the error of my ways."

Looking at Malana, then over to Varnok and then Az'Prel meditating in the rear. "A disgraced former Tal'Shiar officer jailed for refusing to follow the edict of the empire. A refugee from a dimension where her logic was forbidden who embraced it regardless. A man who may be the only Cardassian in Starfleet."

The usually stern-faced Romulan woman smiled lightly. "The Hera seems to be the waystation for us 'disruptive elements'. I think Paris might say that meant we were doing something right."

With that, the ship went slightly quiet. Everyone seemed to agree but the generally quiet nature on Intel work made for a ship full of people less inclined to small talk than most.

But what was important is that the mission had been a success and Moira Artan would live. Satisfied with that success, the Khallianen and its makeshift crew of 'disruptive elements' warped its way towards home.

Acting captains log stardate 73606.3

Well, this isn't how I imagined being in command of the Hera. With the away teams having deployed I have moved the Hera out of range of the K-7 station's weapons and put the emergency power to the chronometric shielding. So far they are holding, but theirs only so much power the Hera can give. Already the shields have briefly failed on Deck 27. Thankfully only a small area of waste management was effected through what's happened is indeed odd.

" Mushrooms? " Thex said into the open channel with the engineering team that had been dispatched to see what the damage was.

" Well fungal spores, but yeah waste control is now full of them. They seem to be dying at an incredible rate. Guess they're not build to live in our universe or timeline. " Replied the head of the engineering team.

" Well make sure they're cleaned up and all the machines are working. Call me if anything else is wrong," Thex said politely as she closed the channel.

Looking around the bridge she looked over at the operations officer the one member of a department who was on the bridge. " Lieutenant Pacci, anything to report?" She asked calmly.


"Other than reports of mushrooms popping up in random places over the ship...no not really" the Betazoid replied. "Teams are reporting the safe removal and clean up...it could take some time though."




"Commander, requesting a sample of mushrooms be brought to Sickbay for further examination," Doctor Asa Dael chirped over the comms.

Thex thought for a second before replying. "Of course doctor. Make sure to keep it behind maximum security. How are things down there? " She asked with the authority of someone who did deserve to be in the chair.

"Aye, will do. We are doing well. I have one person who seems to have inhaled something noxious, possibly these spores, but the problem is resolving. What aid can we provide?" Asa responded.

" Keep standing by for any wounded doctor and if possible switch off any unnecessary equipment. We need to keep the chronometric shielding up and the time fluctuations are getting worse." Thex said looking at the state of the ship's shields.

"Aye, Commander, moving stasis pods to emergency backup as well," Dael responded.

" Very..." Thex began before even through the ships shields and internal dampeners she heard the ship rock. For a brief second, part of the ships failed and crackled out of existence. It only took a second the ship buckled and changed as the power of raw time caused through it.

" Status," Thex yelled as ships lights began to blink.

" Sheilds are holding, but somethings draining the power on deck fourteen. " called the human ensign from the engineering console.

Thex brain only needed a second to come to a decision. " I'll check it out. Lieutenant Pacci, Ensign Gavarus and Petty Officer Jablonski you're with me. Lieutenant Lesai, you have the bridge," the sapphire officer said as she grabbed her toolbelt, which she had tucked under the captain's chair.

=^= Petty Officer Jablonski, report to Lieutenant Commander Thex, Deck 14 =^=

At that moment, Jablonski was using the strength enhancements of the existing EVA armor, which really wasn't working out for her. She and it seemed to pull at odds, which Baroness von Alcott had attributed to an inconvenience for higher strength humanoids. She had designs she'd shared, it was just that Ethel wasn't quite sure about the legality of experimenting on Starfleet property.

For now, she tabbed the control in her armor to open a comm channel. "I'm on my way."

As if causing them to appear and disappear the large mountain of muscle shed her armor, exchanging it for her uniform through the miracle of microcircuitry that enabled extradimensional storage. A miracle wrought by the will of Hera.

"Great Hera," she muttered as thje head of the honor guard ran a towel through her hair on her way out of the gym, spotted E'Vir on a squat, reminded Azzo about her glucose and caught a banana from Konga with a grin. Once outside Main Gymnasium 1 on Deck 6, she peeled and jammed the banana, then broke into a loping, ground-eating stride to get to the turbolift.

"Master At Arms, do you copy?" Jablonski asked after tapping her badge, commandeering a turbolift.

Thav was busy in the main armory strapping everything down in case the internal dampeners failed. Tapping his comabdge the andorian calmly responded. " This is Thav. What can I do for you petty officer."

“Command has called me to Deck 14 for something, sir, and with the Commander away, you’re the ranking security officer. Figured if there is an emergency you might need to be in the know, sir,” Jablonski reported back as she stepped out of the lift and began jogging to her destination.

"Very good, petty officer. I'll head to the security office, and take command from there," the Master At Arms said as he handed his job over to an ensign before beginning to head for the security station. " Make sure to take a weapon. The time shifts may have done more than mess with our systems," he added.

“Shouldn’t be a problem, sir,” Jablonski replied. Thanks to the extradimensional store available to her via the Bracers of Hera, she was quite literally a walking arsenal, and could equip a band of freedom fighters if she needed to. But the MAA was used to thinking in conventional terms, and she understood that as ahead she spotted a flash of blue and gold, and she hustled to catch up to Lieutenant Commander sh’Zoarhi.

Thex gave a polite nod to the petty officer as she joined the team along with lieutenant Pacci and ensign Gavarus. It took a mere minute for the turbo lift to reach its a destination, but even then they could tell something was wrong. The turbolift appeared to be scrapping inside the tub as if it had shrunken by a few centimeters.

As the doors opened the women eyes widened at the sight in front of them. The ships familiar corridors had gone replaced by a dark grey panel which hadn't been used in a very long time. The others might have a time placing them, but Thex and Gavarus would have recognized it easily.

" Great I'm left in charge of the ship and deck 14 turns into a deck of the Nx class refit. " Thex said pulling the scanner from her belt. " Right the main power feed that runs up the Hera is up ahead so we have to see what's wrong with it." She said leading the way.

Scanning with her own Tricorder, Gavarus replied with an attempt at a joke. "Well, it's kinda like you get to be Captain of two ships at a time, Commander."

The Andorian grinned at that. " Yeah, I guess you're right," Thex said as they arrived at the spot in question. From the scanner alone she knew what the problem would be. " Well looks like time has created a mess of circuitry and power conduits. We'll have to take the panel off and try and get everything to work with each other." the Andorian said already pulling out her tools.

Looking at the side of the panel that was from another generation, Gavarus tilted her head. "The bolts on this thing won't... Ah... need a different tool. It's an older hex design...."

But as she spoke, the large Porcine ears of the bulky Tellarite twitched on their own causing her to cut herself off. "Uh... did anyone else hear that? Like a bolt hitting the deck or something?"

"Permission to arm and armor, ma'am?" Jablonski deferred to the officer on deck as she scanned about the unfamiliar terrain of the museum piece they were standing in.

Thex had heard the sound as well one of her antenna twitching slightly. " Permission granted Jablonski. " She said calmly taking a second to switch on her own belt clipped phaser before she continued removing the panel. Behind the panel, it was a true mess. The Hera's circuitry had almost blended with that of the older vessel turning the two into a mess that they'd need to clear up before they could fix the power.

The sound of a bolt skipping across the floor echoed again. Coming round the bend in the corridor lurched what any federation historian would recognize as the first generation of starfleet EVA suits with its radiation shield down. It unnaturally moved it's head until it noticed the group down the corridor.

With a lurch that was definitely not normal, it began to move towards them reaching out with an outstretched hand.

And while she was a skilled engineer, Ensign Briaar Gavarus was never one to be thought of as overtly brave, and that perception was unlikely to change as she let out a short squeal at the sight of whatever that was. "Eee!! What the effin' @#$& is that?!"

Raising her tricorder to scan the bizarre figure, Gavarus only got back a garbled signal of static. "Tri... Tricorder is... There's interference from whatever's going on, Commander. I'll have t... t... to readjust the settings."

Thex wheeled round her hand already going for her phaser. She stopped with her hand over her holster as the figure lurched forward again. " Halt." The sapphire engineer ordered with her authority coming into her voice. " I am Lieutenant Commander Thex sh'Zoarhi of the Federation starship Hera. Identify yourself, or we will be forced to defend ourselves." She said calmly.

If the figure in the suit heard them it didn't comply as it lurched forward again its arms outstretched. The closer it got the more disturbing it became, as clearly something or things was moving under the surface that was wriggling and bulging in ripples across the material of the suit.

"Get behind me, sirs," A rather large armored hand that was roughly the size of Thex's thigh interposed between the advancing mass. Whatever it was in the old-school ancestor of the high-tech wonder that was currently covering Petty Officer Jablonski's massive hide, she wasn't having contact with the second officer, nor the porky engineer of whom she was fond. With a snap of the wrist, a phaser rifle appeared in Jablonski's hand, and she adjusted the power settings. "Orders, ma'am?"

Thex paused as she drew her own phaser. The thing took another step forward to which the Andorian blurted out. " Fire Jablonski heavy stun." She said firing her own hand phaser. The two beams hit the EVA clad being to which it didn't even seem to notice. It lurched forward again as the gold radiation shield began to crack as two long bone like appedages burst from within.

The suit exploded as the hardened dark green carapace of the occupant burst from within. How it fits into the suit was a mystery as the thing insectoid head was scrapping against the celling of the corridor and almost half as wide as the corridor. It lunged forward four long blade-like arms aimed directly at the huddle of Starfleet personnel as it let out an insectoid screeching that could wake the dead.

"Protect!" yelled the Andorian as her armor burst into life just in time to allow her to catch two of the bugs blade-like arms. The rest were caught on the glowing blue energy shield of the Security officer, who with a flick of her wrist changed weapons. Now armed with a TR-116C2 rifle, the petty officer changed out the loads of the rifle on her HUD, and it the room began echoing with the loud banging of automatic weapons fire. Armor-piercing rounds began sizzling through the air, slamming into the chitinous alien life form.

"Fall back!" Jablonski ordered the two officers through gritted teeth as the alien parasite pressed upon her and Jablonski struggled to hold up the weight of the thing as it pressed itself upon her. "Hera preserve us!"

"Holy $#!+!!" Gavarus squealed as she almost fell over stumbling back from the attacking creature as she began to run on her disproportionately dainty little hooves.

Thex behind the helmet visor of her armor was scowling as she looked around the insect. Seeing a fleshy bit amoung it's hardened carapace the Andorian punched with all her might into the beast. Whatever she had hit it certainly hurt as it let out a screech of pain as it partly collapsed on its two legs. Heading the petty officer's words the Andorian bolted it with the others back to the turbo lift.

With another screech, the bug stood back up and charged after them trailing a thin green gung along the floor as it did.

Partially shoving her crewmates into the turbolift Thex took the hit from the beast which knocked her back into the lift. " Emergency shields." She yelled which raised just as the bug crashed into it. It screeched in pain as it continued to strike the shields seemingly unable to figure out why it couldn't pass through the shields.

Panting against the furthest wall of the Turbolift, Ensign Gavarus was doing her level best not to panic, though she was in no way accustomed to the insanity that was more or less commonplace aboard the Hera. "That... *huff* That... thing was in an old EVA suit. I... I doubt the giant bug monster thought to it... *huff* itself, 'Boy, those look comfy. I should try one on!'"

As she ranted, the porcine officer pulled her Tri-Corder back out, flinching aggressively every time the creature hit the forcefield. But the Tellarite Ensign WAS, at least, thinking. "S... Scanning. There's less chronal interference out here and... Uh... Commander. I'm... there's human DNA in that. Whatever that is, I think it started as a person!"

" Thex to...." She began before realizing her combadge was inside the armor she was wearing. It took her a second to get the armor to open a coms channel. " Thex to the bridge I want a full scan of the ship I want everyone accounted for."

Thav had reached the bridge by this point and had already got the scan underway. " Scans are showing everyone is accounted for commander. We have three unidentified lifeforms, but the scanners are playing up due to the current conditions. I'm deploying security to check and contain them.

" Find the and get them behind a level five sheild these things aren't to be messed with." Thex said as she looked at the two crew. "You two okay?" She asked with concern in her voice.

"Y... Y... Yeah. I think so. It... It never touched me." Gavarus stuttered nervously, desperately hoping that neither woman, Jablonski in particular, had noticed the small wet patch on her uniform pants.

“Phasers aren’t stunning and I don’t know if I got any real penetration off those slugs ma’am. I think I might be able to carve it up if you want to engage it hand to hand to hand to hand, but I’m not entirely sure if that’ll be any more effective. You want to try to get a lock and beam it into a containment cell in the brig?” Jablonski may not have been the brightest gal on the Security force, but she was well trained and used to thinking outside the box.

"A good plan Jablonski. Do you have any trackers in the bracelet subspace pocket?" The andorian said as she noticed something from the corner of her eye. Part of the EVA was still logged on the bug's arm and she'd been able to see part of the ship's patch. NX-09 Kingfisher. Thex knowledge of the NX class was small, but she was pretty sure no such ship had ever been built.

"Gavarus we never built an Nx class called kingfisher did we?" Thex asked mostly to take the ensigns mind of the bug trying to smash down the shields.

Flinching with each hit, still, Gavarus was visibly shaking as she snapped her head to the sound of the acting Captain's voice. "What?! King? Uh... I don't..."

"Uh... NX class..." She struggled to recall, Gavarus kept glancing from the creature to her Tricorder. "N... No... I don't remember, but the NX-09 was something else. A... A... And Commander. T... That thing is... Registering as o... Out of sync with our quantum f... Frequency."

"Kay, here we go, dropping shields and-" Jablonski coordinated dropping the shields with presenting hers, summoning it in a twin crescent moon design so the rifle could protrude while the shield still provided cover. The first few rounds seemed to simply spatter on the creature, but the white phosphorous rounds in auto bursts that the sturdy security officer was pelting it with didn't seem to make it happy at all, particularly with the hydroshock rounds she was interspersing between. The water couldn't put out the phosphorous, but it boiled away to superheated steam that had to go somewhere, much of it under the carapace of the creature, who roared back, surrounded by a halo of steam, only to scream back in and run facefirst into the forcefield again.

"Okay, so there ya go Commander. He's got almost a dozen tracker tags all over him, and I got him good and riled up. Aw, and don't worry about him," the big farm girl chucked a thumb at the creature clawing and gnashing at the forcefield. "That's not ablative. It'll be just that strong for as long as it's got power. So what's the plan, ma'am?"

" Thav can you get a lock on them and beam them into the brig?" Thex said into the channel.

" I think so. Beaming know." Said the master at arms from the bridge.

It was a slow transport, but the blue light shone as it rippled around the alien bug before it faded from existence.

"We have it contained commander. I'm increasing the shielding around them just in case. Teams are on route to contain the other two."

Thex opened up her suit's visor with a grin on her face. "Well, girls that's over with. Well done to the two of you. Computer, lowers the shields." With the shields down Thex lead the way back to their worksite.

"Gavarus keep working on the power problem. Jablonski do you have a bg I could gather up what's left of the Eva suit with?" The acting captain said as she stepped out of her own armor. Bending down she picked up what was left of the left shoulder. The patch on it clearly read NX-09 Kingfisher, but what caught her eye was the planet upon the pitch. It was clearly titan.

"A... Aye Commander." The terrified Tellarite junior engineer grabbed her head and hessitantly went back over to the garbled power relay panel to work.

“You said there were two more- I'm gonna go coordinate with those, ma'am, unless you want me to cover your backs? And with all due respect, I'm not so sure you oughta be touching that residue in case it's contagious, Commander..." Jablonski eyed the inspecting engineer.

The petty officer was right, she realized as Thex put the remainder of the suit down. Her armor would most likely prevent any contamination, but it would be better to be safe than sorry. "You're right. Go and link up with the security team we can finish off here. Be very careful and don't take any chances." She said calmly as she bent down to help the Tellartite with the last of the rewiring.

The petty officer who had dropped the shields to take the brunt of the onslaught for a few seconds to accomplish her goal smiled, the patient smile of enlisted when they received a redundant order throughout history. “Yes ma’am, I’ll be sure to be careful and not to take any chances.”

With that, the large combat-ready security officer jogged off, to go coordinate efforts nearby to capture the specimens which seemed to have cropped up with some sort of chronal fractalism that was affecting the starship. When she was gone, Thex spoke up encouragingly.

"You handled yourself well Gavarus,” the chief engineer said, reaching up high to put a reassuring hand on the extra-large ensign's shoulder.

Trying to focus on the wiring, Gavarus scoffed lightly. Focusing on the work helped her think. She loved old technology. Tinkering with antiques and old ship parts was the hobby that lead her into engineering as a profession. But she was not in her element dealing with giant insect creatures attacking her like old holovid monsters.


"Yeah, t... thanks Commander." Gavarus tried to redirect the subject. Her pants were still wet from where she peed herself in terror after squealing like a stuck pig and didn't particularly agree with her Superior Officers assessment. "I... I... I've got the f... f... fused sections clear and separated. I j... j... just need to reroute the primary power feed through this transition coil adapter to get the flow regulated and power flowing again."

Thex nodded as she helped the ensign until a call came in from the bridge. " Power's running normally commander. " The Andorian let out a sigh of relief as a team from medical wearing biological contamination gear. " Ma'am if you follow us we'll take you to the shuttle bay. We have emergency decon set up there in case the bug problem is capable of contamination. We'll beam you there as soon as you're finished. "

Thex nodded before looking back to the Gavarus. " You finished ensign?"

"A... aye, Commander. All set." Gavarus replied as she put her tools away and stood back up, nervously.

" Okay keep your eyes peeled whilst you clean the area and gather up the remains," Thex ordered as she and the tellerite dematerialized from the corridor. Hopefully, this won't take long.

Rena shook her head as she reached out to see if she could sense any other bugs in the area. " Join starfleet it'll be fun they said. Hunting giant bugs must have been left out of the pamphlet" she muttered under her breath.

Thex shook her head slightly as she took the new uniform from the decon personal which she quickly changed into. She dismissed the Tellarite who, like her, had been given an all-clear. There was no sign of contamination from the alien bugs, for which Thex was extremely grateful. The last thing she needed was an alien sickness from another timeline spreading on the ship.

Now she was heading to the security brig where the bugs were being held. She had also decided to conduct the examination of the EVA suits in the security office's small lab.

She nodded to the few security personnel still in the center. Most were doing a sweep of the ship in case anyone else had been brought aboard.

Stepping into the brig she gave a polite smile to Thav and Jablonski. "Well done you two. Did we take any casualties getting them in here?" She asked looking at the three cells. Two had full bugs in them though the other was still in it's EVA suit constantly salmming into the forcefield.

"Beaming tends not to inflict casualties ma'am," Jablonski pointed out. "No loss of personnel and no injuries to report. But what do we do with them now?" Chucking a thumb at the grotesque alien bugs who were slamming themselves against the forcefields, the beefy security gal who towered over the two Andorians didn't seem to notice that the alien critters were so vehemently bent on escape, as she had absolute faith in the brig's security.

"Maybe when the timeline is fixed they'll be dragged back to their own time?" Thav suggested as he looked at the alien bugs.

"Perhaps," Thex added as the brig small lab door opened, and Lieutenant Dael and the ship’s Entomology expert, Ensign Dumas Saad entered.

"Ah, Commander, we've just finished the examination of the EVA suits and fluids on the uniforms. From what we've been able to determine, they were originally human. They appear to have been exposed to some sort of compound, likely a fluid, that alters the DNA into that of the specimens we have in the brig.” As one of the creatures hammered on the forcefield, the scientist flinched away from the angry oversized insect. “If mine and Doctor Dael’s findings are accurate, it may be possible to revert them to their original form using the transporter. Do you concur, Doctor?" The Betazoid ensign said to Asa.

"Yes, of course," Asa chirped brightly. "We will need to reconfigure the transporter to ignore any corrupted DNA, but the sequencing should be similar to how we were able to transport Commander Paris safely, well mostly safely, prior to her own temporal-spatial stability."

Thex ran her fingers through her hair as she thought about it. This was probably breaking half a dozen rules of the prime directive and temporal violations. On the other hand, these were Starfleet personnel even if they were from a different time and universe. She had no idea if, when the timeline was fixed, they'd be sucked back to their own time and dimension, or if these three would be stuck here forever.

Noting everyone was looking at her expectantly, the andorian took a slight breath as she made her decision. Okay, let's do this. Doctor Asa, can you have a trauma team down here, as we have no idea what could happen to them," the andorian said with the plan coming into her head. She'd need the section 31 transporter for this.

"Of course, I will have the team ready and in location in three minutes," Dael responded.

It didn't take long before the andorian was in the section 31 transporter. She listened to a few other problems her engineering teams had found. Deck twenty four’s computers were now using third century Japanese as the default language and deck twenty lights were now only running at very low setting even at maximum brightness. Nothing her teams wouldn't be able to fix within a few minutes and few reboots of minor systems.

Her fingers danced over the transporter as she started it up and locked on to the alien bug from another time. She could do this.

Down in the holding bay, Thav’s antennae twitched as the familiar sound of the transporter filled the room. He barely understood the science of this, but if anyone could do it, it was his mate. Though she wouldn't believe him, she was handling herself very well, given the current circumstances.

The first bug began to screech like a beast from the deepest depths of hell itself as it thrashed against the shield in some desperate attempt at escaping it's confinement. It beat with all of it strength before slowly the bangs got quieter as it's image morphed and took on the appearance of something almost as alien.

What formed in the cell was clearly a human female though her appearance was just as alien. Her skin was so white Thav thought for a second she must have been albino though that was dismissed when he saw her eyes staring at him. For a second, they were completely black until every time she blinked they seemed to morph into a different colour. She fell to the floor seemingly out cold as the andorian approached her.
"Jablonski, keep the med team covered," he said as he used the brigs site to site transporter to transport the EVA clad medteam into the cell. The medtech ran a scanner over the unconscious woman, although even she was puzzled by the results. "The subject appears to have been biologically altered to survive underwater, as well as in an oxygen environment. She appears to be stable, but I'd like to get her down to the medical bay."

"Sounds like tampering similar to that we saw after the Worldship," Asa mused.

Thav nodded as he left the medical team to do their job. The second bug had been untransformed and it's inhabited was again a human female with very similar looks to the first one. The last one was an even stranger as when the light from the transporter vanished, the figure that had been in the EVA suit was something no one had expected to be within the metal and plastic. It was a Xindi reptilian.

"Well, that's unexpected." The master at arms said aloud as he let the medtechs do their thing.

Thex had beamed herself back to the brig. She couldn't imagine what the strange humanoid the medtechs were checking had had been through. She gave the med techs a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading past. Just as she was about to pass the loop in the corridor there was a scream that she had definitely not heard before coming from behind her.

"Gee, she’s up already," said one of the med techs who were struggling to hold her down. With a blow that sent one of the two reeling back, the woman was on her feet and attempting to run before she smashed into the forcefield.

The woman's eyes were darting all across the brig and changing colo,r in a clear sign of panic. Thinking quickly Thex pulled off her combadge and held it clearly to the woman. "Calm down, we're Starfleet."

The alien woman's eyes did seem to somewhat recognize the combadge, and her breathing slowed as she seemed to relax against the cell’s wall. "I'm Commander Thex Sh'Zoarhi, acting captain of the USS Hera," Thex said calmly as she approached the cell, reaching out to place a restraining hand on the barrel of the phaser rifle Jablonski had leveled at the frantic alien accidental chrononaut.

“Lieutenant Tayna Paulsen, chief of security of the NX-09 Kingfisher. What happened? How did I get here? Where are my..." The human said weakly through a throat that had been used in quite a while.

"Easy… we're going to get you and the two others we found to our medbay, and then I can explain this mess," Thex reassured as she walked toward the forcefield. This was going to take some explaining.

"Ready to beam when you are," Asa said to Thex, anxious to see what in the nine hells was going on with their new charges.

" Okay energize," Thex said calmly as she watched the figures vanish one by one. " Okay, Lieutenant Thav have the brig run through its decontamination protocols. Petty officer Jablonski you still up for being on the emergency response team we may have some other uninvited guests."

"Chief of the honor guard, sir- my primary concern is the well-being of the VIP suite residents," Jablonski pointed out. "But I can be ready to scramble for any response team, aye, Commander. I'll be on standby until further notice, and the decon teams are going to work on the brig cells. I'm going to check on our guests, and I'll have a response team standing by to deploy with me on your order, Commander."

" Very good Jablonski. Make sure any items they have has been checked in the case in got changed in the timeshift." The acting captain added.

Turning to the doctor the andorian gave a polite smile. " Sorry for dropping these three on you doc. I'll make sure the ships okay then I'll join you in sickbay. "

"Right you are, I'll just get a head start then, shall I?" Asa said, waiting to be dismissed.

"Go ahead doctor, and good work so far." Thex said. As the rest of them left the room, Thex stayed behind and ran her fingers through her long white hair. She needed a drink. Something cold.

"Computer. ice water," she said as she walked past the nearest replicator. She still had work to do.




As soon as Asa walked through the Sickbay doors they were calling to staff to assist with the new charges.

“Vimes, scans on the human in biobed 1, Almera, scans on biobed 2, Yukiri, with me for our reptilian friend in 3,” Dael said, voice projecting authority. Without waiting for the “Aye Doctor” they knew would come, the doctor walked briskly over to the prone form in biobed 3.

As the medical tricorder hummed in their hand, Asa lightly palpated the skin, feeling areas of weakness that did not resist pressure in skin should. There were also deep red marks hiding along veins and joints, and the tricorder showed several organs that showed extensive scarring from now-healed injuries. All of this was consistent with the readings Asa got from the patients genetics. The quad helixed genome had been weakened in areas that spoke of beta radiation, and the nonreactive nuclei spoke to broad spectrum radiation exposure.

“Check for radiation damage to your patients please,” Asa called to Vines and Almera.

Yukiri, a bright eyed-bushy tailed young human woman was showing signs of still acclimating to shipboard life. She was a recent graduate and growing up human in a rual area of Earth had done little to prepare her for the sights she would see aboard the Hera.

“Um, Doctor?” she asked in a soft voice.

“Yes, Ensign?” Asa responded.

“Are… are there a lot of patients like this? Like….really sick and stuff? And so….different?” she said.

“Yes, Yukiri,” Asa said, a bit perplexed by Yukiri’s surprise at having sick people in Sickbay. “Not everyone has the benefit of consistent access to healthcare, and everyone is different. Your physiology is extremely different from mine even though we look different on the outside. Did you know that under certain circumstances I can only heal if I’m slightly drunk? Splenic kidney and all…..But even though our patients may look and act different from us doesn’t devalue them. We are privileged to serve a wide array of life forms and learn and grow from each of them. Please monitor the patient’s condition and alert me if it changes.”

With that they walked over to Vimes and Almera, ready to hear their reports.


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It didn't take long for Thex to check on the status of her ship and make it back down to the ships sickbay. The staff were going about their work checking on the new inhabitants. Tayna Paulsen was sitting up on the bio bed still very concerned over what was going on judging by her eyes. " So what can you tell me about them doc." The acting captain asked.

“Aye, Commander,” Dael responded, walking over to the reptilian figure in biobed 3.

“Our Xindi friend here,” they began, “Shows signs of long term and intense radiation exposure. We are running an IV genetic recombination fluid to restore genetic stability, which should stop any further damage. Once vitals have been stable for 24 hours the EMH is going to complete some procedures to strengthen and heal the scarred tissues and organs.”

Walking over to the two human figures in beds 1 and 2, Asa’s face took on a grim expression. “These two…..well, they are going to need a bit more work. They are both augmented, which I’m sure you already knew, but this isn’t a first generation augment. There are signs of aquatic adaptation augmentation beginning at least five generations ago, possibly more. Their bones are incredibly dense, and in addition to functional gills they have increased oxygen processing capability, amped up muscle strength, and eyes that can see in near-dark environments. Honestly, it’s as if someone was trying to build the perfect merperson- just without the tail so far.”

" We tried that, didn't work out well." The alien form of Lieutenant Tayna Paulsen said from her biobed.

" Sounds like an interesting tale. I hate to inform you Tayna, but it looks like you and your two companions have been sent into the future and into another timeline. " Thex said as she walked over to the biobed.

The alien-human ran her webbed hands over her head as she leaned back with a look of sorrow on her face. " That would make sense. Nothing here looks right. "

" Would you mind telling us your history and why you were changed to be an aquatic-based lifeform?" Thex asked politely.

The alien woman breathed in slightly. " We had no choice. We come from the colony on Titan formerly belonging to the lands of Celtica. Ten years after the colony was founded the country of Aspijan launched a virus into the earth's atmosphere. They believed that they could please their gd by murdering all-overs and that she would protect them 95% of all life on Gaia was dead with 48 hours. Without the supply ships from home the colony had no choice, but to alter ourselves to exploit the depths of titans oceans for the needed supplies."

Thex nodded as she listened to the woman's tail, but as she finished her tail an unearthly sound filled the medical bay. First the Xindi then the other human woman appeared to turn to dust before they vanished from the ship. " Commander it appears that the timelines are stabilizing the Klingon station has returned to the Telvan family station." came the bridge from Thex combadge.

Before Thex knew what she was doing she had crossed to one of the computers and copied the process of how they'd fixed the strangers from another time and put it onto a padd. hurrying back to the biobed she thrust it into the hands of Tayna. " Take this it's how we changed you back."

The aquatic woman eyes stared at the padd before looking back at the Andorian. " Thank..." She began before like the other she appeared to turn to dust and vanish from existence.

Thex let out a slight grin as her mind just realized what she had done. That was going to take some explaining.

The phrase “you could cut the tension with a knife” had always been a mystery to Doctor Asa Dael. After all, what did being tense have to do with air viscosity? Unless the race who originated the phrase had some sort of telekinetic abilities based on their emotional state? But no, it was a human phrase.

All that changed the moment Captain Telvan sent word to Sickbay that Intel was on its way back with crucial DNA samples needed for baby Moira. Of course all life was sacred to the young doctor, but the life of an infant? That dialed the urgency all the way to 11 for everyone in Sickbay.

Pacing the floor was not proving to be an overly effective manner of waiting on the Intel team to come back, so Asa had moved on to nervously tapping the desk with their stylus. The noise must have been driving the ever-patient Nurse Vimes to distraction as she quietly slipped in and closed Dael’s door, turning the soundproofing on.

Realizing what they were doing, Asa flumped down heavily in their chair, hands running through short cut hair and leaving swaths of cowlicks turned into curious positions.

OK Dael, count to 10. You can’t be this much of a mess. For some reason these people think you are their leader, so bloody well act like it. the CMO thought in frustration.

After taking a moment to return to being presentable, Asa exited their office and began doing inspections on the biobeds to ensure all were in working order. Better do something productive at least they mused.

Which was when they were intercepted by another pair of nervous people. The captain and her holographic wife, clinging to each other like Aldebaran mud leeches. "Doctor, how are you holding up?" Enalia asked, obviously not holding up too well herself.

Moving to embrace them both, Asa schooled their voice to a mellifluous tone and did their best to beam confidence to the new mothers. “I’m ok….Just ready to have your little one right as rain. And we are going to do just that, I promise. How are you both? Please, come to my office won’t you?”

They both returned the embrace and nodded before returning to Asa's office. Once in there, Maica drooped slightly and Enalia sighed heavily. "I have to admit, Maica and I are both worried and stressed. I probably literally had the worst mother in the galaxy and while she's downloaded the knowledge of a hundred civilizations of mothers... Neither of us have any experience at all. We're going to have to rely on you pretty heavily."

Moving to pour and hand both Enalia and Maica a glass of water, Asa pulled their chair around to the other side of the desk to sit in solidarity with the two women. After placing the glasses on the side table Asa said calmly, “That’s what I’m here for. As your doctor, your counselor, and your friend. I may not know about hundreds of civilizations, but I know good people when I see them, and you are both good people. The fact that you care as deeply as you do, the very fact you are worried tells me you are going to do well at this. There is an old El-Aurian saying, ‘Children come from two but belong to many.’ The translation is a bit weird….but it basically has the same meaning of the old Earth phrase ‘it takes a village,’ And the Hera is your village. Have you been able to get any rest?”

Maica nodded and appreciated the offer of a drink, but being holographic, left it on the table. "I've delayed my sleep subroutines since finding out. I know it's not exactly healthy, but I've just been so worried."

The captain, however, took a glass and sipped at it. "I haven't been sleeping well, either. I got a visit from someone called the White Rabbit. They took me on some sort of Dickensian trip to meet one of my future hosts a day before their joining, my mother in my body in another timeline a day before her separation from the Telvan symbiote, and Moira the day of Kodria's initial activation before her official activation."

"I learned a lot and I think I helped all three of them..." Enalia paused a moment, trying to figure out what she was trying to say. "But I can't help but feel like its connected to what's happening here and now."

"Nooo...that doesn't sound related, but it doesn't sound helpful either to your own personal mental health. First lesson in parenting for both of you- unless you take care of yourselves, you can't take care of anyone else. I know we are all supposed to know that. Heck, we all tell each other that. But I know for a fact that neither of you are exceptionally good at it if you think your suffering can help someone else. Having had a little brother that I basically raised I feel confident when I tell you- kids are work. If you aren't rested, you aren't going to be able to keep up with your little one. So......sleep. Try to make it a priority, ok?"

Both of them nodded sheepishly. Even Maica had to admit that she was feeling the effects of it as an artificial life form. "First time I've needed orders from a doctor," Maica added with a shy smile, indicating just how new of territory being a mother was for her.

“Well, with baby Moira around I imagine we will be seeing more of each other,” Asa said, reaching over to gently squeeze Maica’s hand.

Smiling brightly to the pair, Asa directed their next question to the Captain, “Any idea when the shuttle is expected ma’am?”

"It should be pulling into the shuttlebay now," Enalia replied with hope in her voice. "They should be here with everything as soon as they're cleared."

"That's excellent!" Asa enthused. "Captain...would you like to wait here? You don't have to be the Captain right now if you want to. You can just be a married couple together, and I can draw the privacy screen. Would you like to rest here for a moment while I speak with them?"

Enalia and Maica exchanged relieved looks for a moment and each nodded. "Yeah, thank you. We'll leave everything up to you."

"My honor, ma'am," Asa said, "Please make yourselves at home in here. If you need anything, just let me know. I will be back shortly."

Malana's rocky stride was unmistakable entering Sickbay. It had been some time since Asa saw their rocky friend, but there was little time for pleasantries today. After thanking her for the sample, the doctor set about running the necessary scans to devise a DNA patch for Moira.

"Hmmmm.....the somatic and and germline patches are going to need to be done separately.....germline seems to be contra-indicated until onset of puberty to inhibit an excess of oncogene......plasmid vector would be safer, but bacterium vectors work more quickly.....perhaps with an immuno-stimulant......" the doctor mused quietly to themself and they read the results of the scans.

Plan formulated, Asa programmed a series of dermal patches and inhaler treatments for Moira. They went to where Moira lay in intensive care in Sickbay and began by delivering an airborne immuno-stimulant. Once that was absorbed, the doctor delivered the one injection the little one would need in order to kick-start the entire process. She put up the expected protest, but began to soothe easily as Asa rocked her gently. Once Moira's cries subsided, Asa affixed a dermal patch to her chubby little left leg and applied a soothing protectant cream to her exposed skin.

Once Dael was satisfied with the readings coming from the medical tricorder, they scooped Moira up and carried her to her waiting mothers in Asa's office.

Entering the office, Asa said in soft tone of voice, "Ladies, may I present to you little Miss Moira? She is going to need an injection once a week for the next six weeks, and a dermal patch she will need changed daily, but she's going to be just fine. I'm not sure if she will be able to become pregnant without further gene repair when she enters puberty, but we have stopped the ticking clock. She may be a bit tired and cranky for a few days, but other than that....well, she's perfect."

That said, Asa held Moira out to her mothers, happy to deliver their bundle of joy into their waiting arms.

Enalia was the closer of the two so she cradled little Moira in her arms, one hand under her head, rocking gently as both mothers cooed softly and started crying like grinning fools at their little blessing. "Thank you Asa. Thank you so very much."

"You are welcome. Moments like this," they said, wiping a tear of their own away, "are why I became a doctor. I am honored the share this with you. I know you need some time alone, so how about you take the day to get to know her? We can go over all the details tomorrow in your quarters if you like. Doctors orders.......take the day to go love on each other."

Maica perked up a bit at that order. "Ah... Enalia is fine... And I've rescheduled my appointments for the week... But I'll need someone to feed my plants and animals for a while. Do you have someone well versed in xenobiological care? I can leave detailed instructions."

"Of course," Asa said, "One of our more recent additions, Lt. JG Hobbes., studied xenobiology and would excellently suited. I'll send him around to take instruction from you. Just remember, the early days with a child are for learning about your little one. Although she will have parts of both you in her, she's still her own person, full of surprises and joy...and seeing as this is your first child, what will probably feel like a frankly alarming amount of poo....try not to worry about the rest of the galaxy for a few days and just revel in the miracle in your arms, ok?" The last was said with a wink and a smile, indicating Asa's happiness for their Captain and her wife.

The doctor fully expected tons of nervous trips to Sickbay every time Moira got the sniffles. In fact since the baby boom on board began, the entire Sickbay crew was becoming quite adept at explaining to nervous new parents that babies crying is completely normal, and the fact they have snot coming out of their nose for no reason is not actually reason to panic. It was endearing for most of them as it offered chances to coo at the little ones for a bit.

"Poo?" Enalia asked in alarm, a look of surprise on her face.

Maica just nodded, having downloaded multiple databases on the subject, still looking blissfully serene. You just knew her mind was running a million subroutines a second underneath that blissful facade though. "Oh yes. We'll have to change diapers several times a day and use powder and wipe runny noses and feed her and literally do everything for her. And she'll make alarm noises but not tell us what's wrong so we'll have to figure it out each time. Or so the databases say... We'll have to learn the experiences together."

Laughing Asa said, "Well Captain, I think Maica might be taking the lead here. You absolutely have the right of if, Maica. She will be an adventure for you both. I can't wait to cheer you on as you go through it."

"Thank you, Asa. For everything. I guess... In a way... My mom got what she wanted in the end." Enalia looked down into the cutest little face she'd ever seen. "She got an heir. And I didn't even have to get pregnant."

With a tinkling laugh, Asa raised their glass of water in the air in a mock-toast, "And isn't that the best part of all?"

Another shift was about to end, and the idiosyncratic duo of Fiona O’Dell and Briaar Gavarus had put in a hard day’s work. Morning runs and workouts were extending the amount of time that the tiny test pilot could remain active in the experimental variable mode spacecraft, the prototype of which was still referred to by the developers as the ‘Thunderchicken’. With a cybernetic neural link serving to speed the reaction times between thought and action, the experimental flyer was still racing through qualifications as an uncontested success.

While the interface, and indeed piloting the fighter craft which could convert to a semi-robot form or a full on robot mode were all new and experimental, Ensign O’Dell had emerged as an unlikely candidate to demonstrate the flexible craft’s versatility. At this point, she could literally make the bulky craft dance, and in simulations she could keep at it for over half an hour of activity without becoming physically and mentally overtaxed.

Today they had been working on determining stress points in linkages, so O’Dell had spent a few hours in the cockpit, ordering the mech’s movements to suit the needs of Ensign Gavarus. The brilliantly capable flight engineer, who had initially been assigned to the duty as a form of punishment, was prickly and disagreeable- which was the primary issue holding her back in her career. But when it came to working with O’Dell, the odd couple of the midget Mariposian and the tall Tellarite had become immediate friends. While separately both were ne’er-do-wells whose Starfleet careers were likely headed for an unsuccessful end or perhaps a lifetime spent at the bottom, in each the other had found a gifted and talented partner with whom they could easily work, and with whom their accomplishments were impressive.

Today, by the time the shift ended, Gavarus had to wake O’Dell, as she had grown bored waiting for the next request for an odd pose or position. In addition to the fatigue she often failed to mention as a side-effect of working with the Thunderchicken, boredom was another enemy, and while Gavarus had gone off to fetch a specialty tool, O’Dell had nodded off. Curled up in the cockpit, the wee wingman was sleeping and dreaming, even as the cybernetic link between herself and the robotic flyer she was responsible for testing was still fully active. Which in turn meant that rather than active commands and one-way communication with the starcraft, instead the onboard computer was processing input from her subconscious.

Which would become relevant soon enough.

Reemerging onto the flight deck with the needed tool, Gavarus could hear O'Dell's soft rhythmic snoring, not unlike the purr of a cat- that is, if a cat also randomly muttered random syllables of Gaelic in its sleep.

Walking over to the cockpit which, in its half-robot/half-spacecraft mode dubbed the 'gerwalk' mode by Commander Paris, the mech was crouched down low enough to the ground for the towering Tellarite engineer to just be able to peer into the cockpit if she stretched on the tips of her hooves.

Peeking in at the gently dozing form of Fiona O'Dell, Gavarus rolled her eyes and stepped back over to her command console over to the side of the testing zone of the flight deck. Patching into the Thunderchicken's comm system, Gavarus bypassed the system’s telltale chirp and brought the internal volume up as she whispered.

"Fiona... Fiiiiioooooona." It was as gentle as was possible for the gruff Gavarus as a grin crept across her porcine puss. Taking a breath, she called out at normal volume, slightly amplified by the speakers inside the cockpit: "Top o' th' MORNIN' to ya, Leprechaun!"

The reaction from the pilot was to shriek slightly as she spastically flailed for a few seconds, her arms and legs splaying about as she suddenly arrived at wakefulness. The mechanoid, imitating her actions, promptly fell over, the arms and legs flailing like a turtle on it's back until she was fully awake. At which point she began to right the mech, picking it up off the ground by bracing itself with one hand and scooting the legs beneath it. As moved O’Dell, so moved the craft, and she knew where the balance points were and how to compensate for them. Righting the fighter back in it’s feet, O’Dell began to complain.

“That’s not a vurrah nice way to wake up somebody with a phaser cannon strapped on, ye know,” she posed to her pleased as punch porcine partner in peril. “S’liable to end up not so good for ya, aye? Least ye were smart enough to not be close, or I might ha’ rolled over onto ye.”

"None of the weapons systems are live, AND we got to test the joint stress upon impact. Huzzah!" The crotchety engineer twirled a single, fat finger in the air with a smug smirk.

"That said, I think you need a frickin' coffee in you. We've got more tests to run before end of shift. Break?"

“Aye…. Glad it was joost you and nae the Lieutenant findin’ me asleep at the stick. I forget how much that beastie drains me tiny brain while I’m walkin’ her aboot. Juust sittin there wi’oot budgin an inch and it still tires me oot. Joost means I need more time in the gym I figure, aye?” As she had been speaking, O’Dell’s dexterous digits were dancing across the control surfaces, flipping switches and powering down the various redundancy systems onboard the experimental craft, even as she stifled an irresistible yawn. Which in turn made her forget to shut off the main power cell, thus leaving power to the primary systems and the ship’s computer. But the canopy was already opening, and the sleepy short stuff was already hauling herself out of the cockpit, eyes bleary and movements sluggish.

“Aye… coffee. I swear I got a good night’s sleep last night, I dinna know why she’s takin it oota me s’hard today,” O’Dell complained, trying to shake off the exhaustion that had snuck up on her as she shuffled toward the control podium where Gavarus was working.

"I dunno..." Gavarus commented as she logged out of the workstation and the pair headed off to the R&D lounge for a coffee. "... I think Gonadie needs to readjust the neural thingamabob. It's still putting a lot of strain on your system. Sure, you're lasting way longer without pushing the numbers into the red, but I feel like this whole thing should be getting easier for you. C'mon. Let's get a coffee drip feed started."

“Ach, maybe it’s because me wee tiny brain doesnae make enough electricity, huh?” O’Dell wisecracked as the pair shuffled off to the lounge for a coffee break. “Or maybe it’s just a fitness thing, and I joost need to get in…” O’Dell paused to cover her mouth with the back of her hand for a long, protracted yawn and a headshake, her mop of bright red curls flinging about as she tried to wake up fully. “Oh! Mother Macree, I’m booshed. Maybe gettin in better shape might work, or maybe I joost need a proper night’s sleep? Or joost an afternoon nap?”

As the duo entered the lounge, neither of them noticed the mechanoid, of its own violation, raising a hand up to it’s canopy, as if the experimental craft were stifling a yawn with the back of it’s hand.

Settling into the lounge, Gavarus went to the replicator to grab the pair two big, steaming cups of coffee while O'Dell all but collapsed in a seat. "Yeah. Carrot's busy but you do look like you could use a serious nap. Here."

Putting the coffee in front of her pint-sized pal, Gavarus actually looked a little worried as she pulled her work PaDD out of a back pocket. "Yeah. Your numbers in that last test are all getting high. I'm thinking I might need to make an executive decision here and pull the rest of the tests for today."

As Gavarus spoke, O'Dell had been resting her head on her hand as she began to doze off. Slowly, her ginger-topped head slid down and all but hit the table as O'Dell pulled herself back up with a start.

Her chair scraped loudly along the deck as she did so, obscuring the sound of a similar bang coming from the flight deck.

“Noo noo, tis alreet, I’ll be fine,” the pixie pilot protested, as she was wont to do when it was suggested that she might be unable to do something. “Joost get some coffee in me and I’ll be right as rain, and ready to go agin.”

Despite her successes and assurances to the contrary, the frail fighter jockey lived in perpetual fear that she would be found wanting and be replaced on the project, which had given her an enormous sense of accomplishment and personal pride. Of course, having partnered with the little lass for a few months now, Gavarus knew better.

"Yeaaaah, no." Gavarus said plainly as she slid the coffee cup away from the anxious test pilot. "The ship's on a skeleton crew and if anything were to happen, we'd be trusting the EMH to take care of you. Look, Fee... Gonadie made me assistant chief and I'm pulling rank. You're too exhausted and frankly I'm worried. And I frickin' hate being worried about you, alright?"

While the two would never say it out loud, it had become painfully obvious that they had extremely strong feelings for each other and it tended to make the touchy Tellarite possessive and protective of her Mariposian Partner-in-crime. "It's my ass if anything happens to you, Fee. So I'm canceling the rest of the tests for this afternoon. We'll pick up in the morning after you get two or three assloads of sleep, okay? This is MY call and nobody is going to give you any shit for it, I guarantee it."

While her issues of self-worth were strong, and her anxiety over measuring up perennially haunted her, in this case O’Dell knew that everything Gavarus was saying was correct. If she was covering the reasoning for canceling the rest of the day’s tests, then O’Dell would accept it gracefully. The irritable engineer had her best interests at heart, and would argue her point with anyone who cared to disagree, likely until the other party capitulated through agreement or lack of sleep.

“Alreet, alreet, ye win. I’ll give it a rest fuir today,” the bonny lass of the Bringloidians capitulated. “So does this mean we’ve time to nick out to the pub for a pint before we go sleep it off?”

"Yeah, doing THAT would negate everything I need to put in my report on the day. So, c'mon. Let's get you to bed. Okay?" Gavarus stepped around the table to help her best friend up, who barely looked like she could stand up her own power. The tubby Tellarite was surprisingly gentle with the fragile fighter pilot.

“I’m okay, I’m alreet,” O’Dell protested, but still accepted the assistance her big buddy was offering. In truth, she was more exhausted then she herself realized, and while she managed to toddle alongside Gavarus, it was only because the tall Tellarite was deliberately taking smaller steps so the short-legged pilot could keep up. In the turbolift, O’Dell leaned against the back wall of the car, and nearly fell asleep there. By the time they reached the quarters of the petite pilot whose apt call sign was Leprechaun, Gavarus was practically dragging the little woman. Before her head hit the pillow, Fiona O’Dell was out cold.

Sitting with O'Dell for a few minutes, Gavarus sat on the edge of her partner's bed, watching her drift away. In no time, O'Dell was clearly in a deep sleep, as she twitched a little and muttered incoherently, not unlike a puppy having a dream. When the concerned engineer was comfortable that O'Dell was resting, she quietly tip-toed out of the quarters on her somewhat comically undersized hooves.

"Ugh... guess I better go log our shit for the day." The grumpy engineer muttered under her breath as she began to make her way back to the flight deck. As she walked, she pulled out her PaDD and cricked her eyebrow for a moment as it appeared that the sensors on O'Dell were still running and it looked almost as if the tiny test pilot was still working. Tapping her commbadge in the turbolift, Gavarus grumbled. "Computer. Location of Ensign Fiona O'Dell."

=^=Ensign O'Dell is in her quarters.=^= The computer answered.

"Weird. Must be a glitch. Frickin' wonderful. More to check out when I get... back?" As Gavarus arrived, the blast doors to the flight deck into the corridor were open and there appeared to be some sort of scraping damage to the top of the door frame, as if something had wedged itself into it. "...The hell?"

Running onto the Flight deck, the PaDD fell out of Gavarus' calloused three-fingered hand and hit the deck, as she looked at the spot on the deck where the Thunderchicken had been standing. Emphasis on the word 'had'.

"Ohhhh Shiiiiiiittttttt."



When the report came in to Security, they initially thought it was a joke- Crewman Quextochkil reporting a big robot wandering Deck 3. Which was less funny when they brought up the sensor feeds, and suddenly there it was- a somewhat anthropomorphic mech striding through the halls, waving to passersby. As it reached over to press the button to summon a turbolift, there was considerable confusion as to what the pilot thought they were doing, exactly- if this was a joke, there was no way that thing was going to fit into a turbolift.

Which was when it hovered, and as the legs tucked under and the arms folded themselves into the rear of the craft, it transformed into a small one-man fighter craft. Which was when the report from the bridge came in that there was an unauthorized warp signature on Deck 3 that was moving, and it apparently had no pilot. As the Security team watched, as the turbolift arrived, the craft hovered out of the way to let the disembarking passengers get by. Then the smaller craft eased into the lift, nose up to take advantage of the height of the lifts, and managed to fit itself snugly and securely inside the turbolift.

In her sleep, Fiona O'Dell murmured.

In the lift, the mech stuttered with her voice. "10 10 10-For'd!"

Security teams moved to scramble into position, and evacuate the ship's lounge, as well as a pathway to it from the turbolift. Science was taking detailed readings and analyzing the data, and forcefields were standing by to restrain it. But for now, whoever was on the bridge making the calls was letting this play out.

Meanwhile, on the flight deck, Gavarus was scrambling like a crazy woman wondering where multi-ton flight mech had vanished to. "What the @#$&!!! What the @#$&!! What the absolute frack!!! Where the hell did it go?!?"

"HOW the hell did it go? Is it running a program, what the drek is it doing?!?" Running across the deck, Gavarus was literally looking everywhere that an enormous transforming fighter could possibly be, and a few places that it obviously couldn't.

"Moron! It's not in a frickin' supply closet! Shit!!! The console!" As her brain caught up with her, she all but tripped over her hooves scrambling to the control console. "Okay... Okay... S... S... She's got power. She's still... Wait a minute."

Taping her commbadge hard enough to hurt, Gavarus called up. "COMPUTER!! Where's the Thunderchicken?!"

=^=The Variable Mode prototype fighter is in 10-Forward.=^= the Computer replied flatly.

"Deck 10?! What the frickin'..." Then the Ensign broke out into a run towards the door, Leaving her PaDD on the deck where she dropped it. "SECURITY TO DECK TEN!!!

"Way ahead of you, Ensign," came a voice that managed to sound laconic and sarcastic all at the same time. "That's your R&D project that's turning into a robot in 10-Forward, right? We've cleared the deck and we're watching... are you kidding me?" There was a pause as Gavarus frantically pressed the turbolift button, then the laconic part was definitely overwhelmed by dry humor.

"Yeahhhh, you better get down here, ensign. I cannot wait to hear the explanation for this."

"Your experimental aircraft just sat down at the bar."

After two minutes of the most intense running that the tubby Tellarite had ever managed, Gavarus all but collapsed against the corridor bulkhead at the doorway to Ten-Forward next to the waiting security officers. "What... What.... *Huff*... *Huff*... What the... *Wheeze*... *Huff*... What the hell is.... How is..."

Freezing in place, Gavarus slowly pulled herself up from where she was leaning to catch her breath. In front of her through the open doors of Ten-Forward, leaning over the front of the bar, sitting on top of a crushed barstool, was the robot mode of the Thunderchicken.

Slowly, Gavarus stepped inside. "Uh... Let... let me see... Let me see what's happening?" Gavarus gestured to the security officers.

"Oh, by all means, Ensign." The dry security officer replied flatly, waving Gavarus in.

Stepping around to the front of the bar, Gavarus leaned over to look into the clearly empty cockpit with a confused expression while the turret at the top of the Thunderchicken turned from the back of house, towards the wheezing engineer. It's massive hands crossed on the creaking, cracked bartop.

Then, to the shock of the confused Tellarite, the massive mech suddenly sat up straight and spread it's arms out wide and spoke in a familiar but slightly slurred Irish accent, as if half asleep, yet stuttering like a damaged data file. "B-r-r-rrrrriaar!!"

"What the @#$&!?! F... Fee?!" Gavarus exclaimed as she stumbled back against the bulkhead.

Which was when the surprisingly nimble robot hopped off the barstool, making the deck vibrate slightly- after all, the Thunderchicken wasn't made out of high density materials. As it began to barrel forward, the cockpit unfolded from the chest, the shoulders spread and the cannon slid on it's track, pointing aft and wobbling like a mass of hair. With surprising smoothness and without missing a step, it continued to bound forward as the variable mode fighter adopted O'Dell's preferred variant. The 'urban pacification walker' mode, as she referred to it. The Commander referred to it as 'gerwalk' mode for reasons known only to her.

The more pressing point to Ensign Gavarus was that it was charging her like a playful puppy.

There was a split second where Gavarus simple stood there staring at the sight, but the brief instance of silence from the engineer was broken by an ear piercing squeal that had the security guards clutching their ears. "SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!"

As the unmanned mechanoid reached the ham hock spanner jock, it spun on a dime and the left arm scooped the 166 kilo officer up easily, although the wall behind her didn't fare as well. Scooping her into a one-handed hug, the armored plates of the mech bound her effectively in place. The odd vehicle then paused as the right hand dribbled a bit of beer across the cockpit. This from the seemingly tiny beer mug it had still been balancing all this time in the right hand. It then set the glass down on the bar, shattering it in the process.

The wind has left Gavarus in a rush, squeezed out of her violently as her ribs were pressed almost to the breaking point by the enormous metal arm. Wheezing, the punished pig let out a painful yell and weakly called out, "F... F... Fee! S... S... Stop!"

Suddenly the arm pulled back and the mech rotated to spin Gavarus about, where the hands of the Thunderchicken could grasp her, and so they did, holding her effortlessly aloft as the squealing and squirming built up.

"B-B-B-B-BBBBriar," it stuttered out, like a weak lagging signal. Holding the wiggling ensign up in a most undignified manner, the speakers sounded distant as if down a well. But the next message came through clearer, and considerably more distinctively.

"Yuir soo wee!"

Dangling like a tag doll, Gavarus was sure she felt something give in her chest as there was a wet popping sound accompanied by a stab of intense pain in her ribs. "GYAAAGH!!! A... And you're NOT, Fee! Y... Y... You're h... hurting me! LET ME FRICKIN' DOWN!!!"

With a quickness and surprising gentleness, the mech delivered the squealing and struggling engineer safely back to the deck and scooted back away, as it held out it's hands palms toward the space swine in surrender. retreating from Gavarus. In the process it casually knocked over tables and hi-tops as it drew its arms in tight and wrung it's mechanical hands. Recognizing the body language, it was impressive that the anthropomorphic fighter craft somehow managed to look fretful and guilty exactly like O'Dell would in person. When it spoke, initially it seemed as though it was tuning up, then the words began to run together in a garbled mass, like a microphone too far from the source of the sound. "Uh-h-h-h-mmM sorry! Msorry msorry! Ahdinmeachuahjo-o-o-o-o..."

It was impossible, but to Gavarus in that moment, the Thunderchicken was Fiona O'Dell. The familiar body language, and the knee-jerk fear reaction of hers that hit the engineer like a gut punch every time. But this time, it was fear over what she had done. Gavarus favored her side and winced, realizing that something was definitely broken. But she didn't want whatever this was in front of her to see that, so she put on her best awkward smile. "It's okay, Fee. I'm okay. No harm done. It was just an accident."

Forcing out a pained laugh, Gavarus waved the guards down with a slight hand gesture. "Heh. Just an accident. Like, remember when I got WAY too drunk a few weeks ago after we almost crashed Commander Paris' Cyclone on the pad doing donuts? I got wasted and you were helping me off my stool and I fell right on top of you? That was funny, right? And it was just an accident. Just like now."

The nosecone of the variable fighter bobbed up and down, clearly eager to show agreement even as it turned to look right and left, as if searching for something or someone as one hand raised in the air with the index finger extended. Which was another easily recognizable mannerism to Gavarus- it was exactly how O’Dell tended to summon another round at the bar. Which was also indicative of her usual behavioral patterns- when something was wrong or upset her, she would immediately call for another round.

Then the mech wobbled slightly, scattering another chair in the process as it raised a hand to press against the canopy of the cockpit. The nosecone moved quickly back and forth, as if the mech were shaking its ‘head’ and it righted itself again. More sounds came out, but again, it was like a microphone that was only picking up parts of the conversation, with most of it was lost in the lag, and none of it came out as intelligible, only random intact words and partial syllables. It seemed that while simple words and statements were emerging from the speakers, any complex sentence structures were becoming garbled nonsense.

"Fee, w... what's wrong? You want another pint?" Gavarus tried to stand up straight, but there was a piercing stab of pain that felt wet and cold as she was now quite certain she was seriously hurt. But that wasn't important to her at that moment. Figuring out what was wrong with her best friend was what mattered.

“Mmmmmmm o-o-o-kay for now,” the mech hummed and stuttered as it stepped over, approaching the engineer gingerly. Extending a hand that closed down to a finger, it moved as if to poke Gavarus in the ribs where she was holding herself, and the mech spoke again in that 'down a well' hollow tone. “A-A-A-aaaare ye hurt…?”

Realizing that letting The O'Dell-Chicken know she was hurt could be devastating to it, as it seemed to be operating on the extreme end of the emotional spectrum, Gavarus smiled as best as possible and straightened up with significant difficulty. "Nah..." she lied, "I've still just got a stitch in my side from our workout this morning. You know I'm in crap shape. But I'm fine. Just fat and unhealthy."

"And... uh... the... uh... replicator here is totally hosed. C'mon. We can go back to the R&D lounge on the flight deck and I can set us up, okay?" As she spoke, she shot a glance to the security officers that she hoped would be understood as they were going to need to head back to the Flight Deck without anyone in the way.

"We're just going to go back to the R&D department, check in with Ensign Gonadie and call it a day." Gavarus said a bit louder, clearly directed towards the laconic security officer who was apparently in command of this particular operation, nodded in confirmation and behind her personnel began scrambling to clear the path and make the necessary calls.

“Alreeeeet!” the mech declared cheerfully, and it started strolling along in a bouncy stride that ate ground surprisingly fast. When it got to the exit, the transformed fighter craft paused to look around for Gavarus, its nosecone whipping this way and that as it searched for the Tellarite whose stride was far shorter than the mech’s. Especially with her injuries.

Dragging behind at her top speed while the security ran ahead to clear their path, Gavarus followed behind the O'Dell-Chicken until they reached the turbolift. Watching, the anxious engineer was, in fact, terrified not knowing what had happened. Did the Thunderchicken's neural link manage to somehow copy Fiona's brain? Did it suck her brain in and that was why Fiona was so drained? Was it something even worse? Her imagination raced with nightmare scenarios as the extremely odd couple waited for the turbolift doors open, the mech humming to itself, some tune that was probably a thousand years old that only Fiona knew.

When the doors opened, as Gavarus watched, the O'Dell-Chicken slowly folded itself up into its much smaller fighter mode and hovered on its nose, backing into the relatively cramped lift. The engineer noticed that it was moving a little slower than it had been previously, which only worried her more. Looking into the lift, there was precious little space, but the hovering ship scooched ever so slightly back and a chipper but tired sounding O'Dell spoke through the ship's speakers.

“Zzzzzzzzplenny a room, Briaaaaaar,” the fighter craft droned, with less stutter and more slowing down of speech.

"Uh... yeah... okay." Gavarus sighed with an awkward grin as she began stuffing her ample form into the available space uncomfortably. After a solid twenty seconds of trying, Gavarus finally squeezed in as she winced in pain from her broken rib and or ribs.

"Ow... uh. I mean. Main Flight Deck." She said as the doors hissed closed and the lift began moving, extremely slowly with the added weight.

“D-D-D-D-Deck 3, R an’ D-D-Dee!” The spaceship in the turbolift chirped, correcting the destination. “Mmmmmmmore tests, Briaaaarrrrrrr…? Mmmmkindaa-a-a tired…”

"Just... Just one one test, Fee." Gavarus muttered, beyond concerned now as its speech dragged out longer and seemed to be running down. Which was impossible given the powerplant built into the machine- but not into O’Dell. "Then everything will be okay. I... I promise."

At that, the doors hissed open and Gavarus all but fell out onto Deck 3, catching herself against the corridor bulkhead as the O'Dell-Chicken hovered out and slowly transformed back to its walker mode, letting out an extended yawn as it did.

"Okay, Fee. Let's get back to the office, okay?" The Chicken nodded its nosecone weakly as it followed the slightly limping Tellarite as they crossed the corridor and through the large, slightly damaged double blast doors where the security team was waiting, behind a concerned looking Ensign Mona Gonadie, control PaDD in hand. At which point the mech sidestepped slightly to stand behind Gavarus, as if it could hide its mass behind her- again, a maneuver quite reminiscent of O'Dell.

As the O'Dell-Chicken and Gavarus approached, Mona shook her head as she looked up from the PaDD. "Um... Ensign O'Dell, please wait for me on the flight deck a moment. I need to talk with Ensign Gavarus a moment about the recent tests. I'll be out to speak with you in just a moment. Okay?"

The pilotless mechanoid brought its right arm up in a salute, then edged toward the flight deck, somehow managing to look shy and self-conscious as it edged over to its landing pa. The Security personnel gave it a wide berth, and it settled in place. Then, a few seconds later, it extended one hand behind it and levered itself down to sit on the deck, where the nosecone was bobbing between the wide spread legs, as if the anthropomorphic spacecraft were dozing off.

"So it looks like the neural pattern buffer I installed to take some of the strain off of O'Dell somehow copied part of her unconscious..." Mona began, holding up the stuttering brainwave pattern displayed on her control PaDD so Gavarus could see it. "Which shouldn't be possible, but... Stranger things have happened on this ship."

Now barely restraining her concern, Gavarus begand speaking somewhat rapid fire. "It's a copy? It's... it's acting like it's falling asleep, and Fio... Ensign O'Dell. She fell asleep in the Chicken when I was going to get a spanner. I called off the remaining tests and sent her to bed when she couldn't quite wake up and the bio readings looked like the neural link was putting too much of a strain on her."

Taking a quick breath and talking with her hands, Gavarus continued. "She couldn't stay awake and with Carrot not here, I took her to her quarters and put her to bed. When I was coming back to shut everything down, the readings on my PaDD indicated that the Chicken was still pulling a neural load from her but then the Chicken was already gone and I've been kinda running ever since! Is... is it still connected? Draining her?" Gavarus winced as she gesticulated with her hands, grabbing her damaged insides.

Mona tapped at the control PaDD for a few moments, sparing a concerned glance up at Gavarus as she did so. "The link is active... But it's in a feedback loop. O'Dell is too far away for it to actually connect so it's running in autonomous mo... Shit... It switched itself to autonomous mode on its own because of the feedback loop. The buffer is supposed to clear when the computer is completely shut down though."

"The feedback loop is degrading and will fade in an hour or so, I think..." Mona then tucked her PaDD into a pocket and pulled out her tricorder to scan Gavarus. "And you have six broken ribs and internal hemorrhaging. Let me guess, you got a hug?"

"Huh, yeah! Whatever..." Gavarus winced through the pain. "What about Fiona? What are we gonna do? Is she gonna be alright?" Anxiety and pain had pushed the exhausted Ensign past the point of protocol and she began to raise her voice a little, clearly beyond upset.

The brightly plumed Miradonian pulled her control PaDD back out. "Well, I can remotely shut down the Thunderchicken... And security is checking on the real Ensign O'Dell now. We should be getting word from them shortly. As long as she's fine, I can flip the switch. Unless you have an objection?"

"N...no. If she's okay, that's... that's all that matters. I'm sorry I shouted." Gavarus apologized, somewhat out of character, then turned to look out onto the deck where the Thunderchicken appeared to be almost dozing as it sat there, twitching in the same fashion the real O'Dell did when sleeping. "If... If Fiona's okay... and you turn it off... I'd like to sit with her... with it. When you do. So she's not scared... please."

Mona stared at the PaDD for a moment before looking up at Briaar and nodding. "Okay, but don't get crushed. Doctor Dael can't heal you if you're roadkill."

Nodding, Gavarus slowly limped out over to the dozing O’Dell-Chicken. Gently and softly, she patted the edge of the nosecone as it bobbed up and down. "Fee..." she all but whispered, and the nosecone came up, pointing in the direction of the engineer. "Ensign Gonadie said... said that you did great in your tests today, and you can go... go to sleep now, okay?"

The nosecone bobbed up and down again in a nod, then the unique spacecraft hovered off the ground to tuck its limbs in once more, very slowly transforming into fighter mode before again settling on the deck. O’Dell had a tendency to curl up in her sleep, and this seemed to be the mechanical equivalent for the oddly behaving mech. Once it had finished transforming, it scooted next to the engineer, snuggling next to her. The speaker was slow, and barely recognizable as speech, but Gavarus could still make it out. “Thaaaaaanks Briiiiiaaarrrr. Yrrrrr muh besss friennnnn. I l-l-l-l-love youuuuu…”

With those words spoken, the Thunderchicken powered down.

Leaning up against the side of the experimental fighter, Gavarus whispered as she leaned her head against the cockpit, "I love you too, Fee."

After a moment, she nodded over to Ensign Gonadie from across the room, who had received word that the real Fiona O'Dell was sleeping normally and was perfectly fine in her own quarters.

Mona stepped up beside Briaar and rested a hand on her shoulder as she slipped the PaDD into her pocket, her thumb releasing the shutdown override. "Let's get you to sickbay, Briaar. I think you and Fee will need a few days off to relax and recover."

"Uh... Y... Yeah." Gavarus replied weakly as she continue to lay across the side of the deactivated Thunderchicken. "That said, I don't think I could actually get back up off the floor on my own..."

"GYAAAGHHH!!! Those are my ribs and they aren't attached to anything, Damnit!!" Ensign Briaar Gavarus screeched out as the security officers plopped her somewhat unceremoniously on the medtable of the U.S.S. Hera's sickbay.

The four burly, gold clad personnel had carried the 166kg Tellarite on an emergency gurney all the way from the R&D department on deck three with six broken ribs and internal hemorrhaging after being hugged by the massive mech known as the Thunderchicken while it was, for lack of a term, possessed, by the sleeping subconscious mind of her best friend, Ensign Fiona O'Dell.

"AAAGHHH! That hurts! What the hell is this bed made out of?! Road spikes and spite?! And where's the frickin' doctor?!" Gavarus growled as the security officers muttered out of the room. As they did, Ensign Mona Gonadie stepped up to the side of the bed having been the lead officer on duty when the calamity had gone down AND both O'Dell and Gavarus's department chief for Research and Development.

"Plasteel and... Faux pigskin, from the looks of it," Mona replied as the EMH, Doctor Power, stepped up and began scanning with a tricorder.

"Well it's good to see you in here, Ensign. You haven't reported for your semi-annual physical the past few days. If it takes six broken ribs, a crushed appendix, two hemorrhaging stomachs, collapsed gizzard, and more internal bruising than any humanoid has a right to, who am I to complain?" The snark of the holographic doctor was strong, but at least he was a bit more gentle recently. Loading up a hypo, he prepared a pain killer. "I'll start with something for the pain then start on the internal bleeding before you pass out on me. Perhaps you could tell me what tried to crush you like a pudding?"

"My best frickin' friend! HYPO! HYPO! HYPO! C'mon!" Gavarus whined ever louder as she weigh on the bed. "In a twenty foot mech suit!"

The EMH gave her a double dose of whatever he had in his hypo before setting it aside and grabbing several tools to set to work on the internal bleeding. "This is my own cocktail. You might feel lightheaded for a few moments but it'll pass. Now tell me more about what happened?"

"I got.... Whoa... Yeah, that's better." Gavarus began to talk as the pain meds kicked in with a rush. "So... Huh... So, yeah. Fee. Fiona. Ensign O'Dell. She fell asleep in the big 'ol Thunderchicken. N' she... After she left and went to sleep, her brain was still makin' it go. Like, so she was dreamin' and the 'Chicken was acting out her... N' she saw me an' gave me a big ass hug."

Gesticulating with her thick, three fingered hands as she spoke, waving them distractingly in the doctor's face, Gavarus continued. "But the chicken's a big ass metal robot and POP!" Still a little lightheaded, Gavarus giggled at herself for a moment before starting a string of wracking coughs.

As the coughs subsided, she curled up slightly, wincing in pain again. "AAAAGH!!! There goes the good shit! Aaaaagh!"

Mona gulped as she watched, to her eyes, the ghostly doctor skillfully heal her injured porcine pal. "Yeah... Neuro buffer malfunction... It's shut down now and I'll be reworking the system so it doesn't happen again."

Doctor Power scoffed lightly as he moved the trio of tools skillfully across Briaar's body, efficiently sealing up the internal hemorrhaging. "That should take care of the worst of it... Let's get those ribs before you puncture a lung and I'll worry about your internal organs, all righty? Any tighter of a hug and you'd be in the morgue right now, you know."

Awakened by Security, the officers had explained the situation to O'Dell, who had leapt into her uniform and torn about the ship chasing her best friend, until she arrived at the appropriate triage section of Sickbay, which was something of a huge maze. Entering on the morgue line, the diminutive dame stepped into the room, dark bags under her bloodshot eyes. She looked exhausted, but clearly running on adrenaline. Tears she was trying to stifle with some degree of success filled her eyes as she saw Gavarus on the biobed. Spotting Ensign Gonadie, O'Dell tried to keep it professional.

"Uh, Ensign O'Dell reporting in, mum. I'm... um. I dinna... it wasn't... I don't... think... t'was me...?" The pipsqueak test pilot was trying to report, but it was clear she was strung out, and her eyes kept straying to her porcine pal on the table. Which was not helping the timbre of her voice, nor was it doing a world of good for that well of tears she was trying to dam up.

Mona intercepted the pint size pilot and pulled her into a hug. "No, it wasn't you. It was... The Thunderchicken thought it was you and... I'll explain the technical stuff later, okay?"

"Alreet... um... nice ta know I'll nae be court martialed," O'Dell wisecrecked, trying to brush it off, but she just couldn't. And the hug from the taller woman had most definitely broken the seal on the tears, although her sinuses had yet to lock up yet- for now it was just tears.

In spite of the painkillers and the doctors diligent work, Gavarus's Porcine ears twitched as she slurred, looking around."F... Fee? Fee?"

Grasping the feathered hand of Gonadie, O'Dell disengaged from the hug, and approached the biobed. When she tried to speak, her squeaky voice was in the range where only dogs and Vulcanoids could hear, but she coughed and tried again.

"Heyyyyy... s'me Briaar. What's, um, what's goin... on?" As the exhausted ensign's face contorted, she fought off an ugly cry. The hand holding Gonadie's was holding it very tightly, and it was moist. "Are ye, ah, are ye g'win ta be alreet?"

Letting out a long, drawn out, "Yeaaaahhhhhh..." Gavarus was clearly no longer feeling pain thanks to the painkillers Doctor Power had been using. "Doc's got me on some goo' shit! I c'n barely feel m' face. It's frickin' awesome!

As she spoke, the numbed Tellarite slurred out each word and brought a hand up to poke at her own pig-like snout. "BOOP! BOOP! Heh heh .. yeah, it's all numb and squishy. Try it!"

As she rambled, she flumped her hand back down, dangling it over the end of the bed as her tone shifted slightly. "I can't... All I c'n see is the dumbass light up here and his big, weird head... Wh... Where are you, Fee?"

Reaching about feebly with her free hand, Gavarus's voice started to crack slightly as she almost seemed to be ramping up to a mild panic. "Where... are you okay, Fee? Is your brain okay?! Where are you!?!"

Releasing her deathgrip on Gonadie's hand, O'Dell transferred her grip to the large calloused three fingered hand of her pudgy pal, grasping it with both of her small pale hands and clutching it to her chest. "M'here, m'right here Briaar... M'okay, I joost... me head hurts a lot and I'm tired, but I'm alreet..."

While she was struggling to hold it together, the overwhelming exhaustion, weird dreams, pounding migraine and her best friend being on the Sickbay table with multiple cracked ribs that were at the same time both her fault and not her fault was a little too much for O'Dell to be sanguine and professional about, and O'Dell started bawling and blubbering. "I'm so sorry, Briaar! I'd never ever hurt ye and I'm so sorry.... I dinna... it wasn't... maybe it was? I don't... I'm so sorry, Briaar!"

Clutching O'Dell's hand tight as if it were more important than anything, Gavarus turned her head. From her angle, all she could see was the very top of the miniature Maraposian's mellon and a shock of red hair, but it was enough to calm her down significantly. As evidenced by her blood pressure and heart rate actually reducing a few points on the bio-readouts above the bed.

"No, no. Shut up, Zip it. No! Whatever happened, it was just an accident. You were stuck in that thing and scared! I woulda done the same! I'm fine! Doc's fixing me up just fine, see?" In the moment, more worried about O'Dell than she was her own injuries, Gavarus's head cleared quickly and she stopped slurring. A benefit, perhaps, from years of heavy drinking was sobriety on command.

From the awakening in her quarters by Security officer shaking her to rouse her, as she had not answered the door chime nor calls from the Security personnel when they entered her quarters, O’Dell had awakened frightened and confused and just not at all there. But when they had explained the situation, off she’d bolted as fast as her short legs could carry her. Now, here in Sickbay, seeing her best friend on the table with multiple broken ribs, she couldn’t quite agree with her asessment.

Had their roles been reversed, she would be dead. What broke Gavarus’ ribs would have crushed her, and she would be now be cold and dead. It was only the irascible engineer’s size and innate sturdiness that had saved her life, and even now that wasn’t a guarantee. Which just led to more waterworks, now complete with sniffles and sobs.

While she knew this was conduct unbecoming an officer, O’Dell was too worn down from the neural linkage that had literally drained her brain, along with all of the other stressors involved, and simply bawled as she held her injured friend’s hand, knowing that despite her assurances, this was her fault. She was the pilot, she was the one who could make the prototype fighter do what it did, and if it left the R&D flight deck to go tear up 10-Forward, that was DEFINITELY her at work.

Cradling the three fingered hand to her chest, said hand being nearly the size of her head, O’Dell hugged it and sobbed, mumbling her apologies in a litany of the genuinely sorrowful. “Msorry, m’so sorry… I’d nivvir hurt ye Briaar, nivvir, nivvir, I dinna mean it, I dinna ken it wasnae a bringloidi and ah was, ah joost… m’so sorry…”

Trying not to cry on the table was virtually impossible for the tough skinned Tellarite as she was just happy to hear O'Dell's voice coming from the right body again. And from O'Dell's comments, a clearer picture began to emerge of the events because it sounded as if the tiny test pilot remembered being the gargantuan Mech. But Gavarus was more focused on O'Dell's anguish and didn't know how to help.

"C'mon, Fee. Everything's okay. The doc is fixing... Ahhh." As Gavarus shifted slightly on the bed trying to see her friend better there was a slight stab of pain.

"The doc will have me fixed up In no time. Just a few scrapes and bruises. No biggie. Stop stressing yourself out, I'm... Uuugh... I'm fine." It was a weak lie but Gavarus was desperate for O'Dell to stop blaming herself and wasn't thinking clearly with the painkillers still strong in her system.

"When I finish, you'll be on mandatory bedrest for at least a week. I'll also want to run some scans on you, Ensign O'Dell." Doctor Power wasn't mincing words as he finished up knitting Gavarus's ribs back together and started work on her internal organs. "Nurse Vimes, I need two liters of blood and a new Tellarite gizzard. Please begin replicating them immediately."

As the capable nurse rushed off to meet the holographic doctor's needs, he swapped to a new set of tools and resumed work. I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I can repair almost all of your organs. The bad news is that your gizzard is completely destroyed and will need to be replaced. I'm sorry but you'll be on bedrest for a week and a liquid diet for at least two weeks."

"It'll take at least that long to rebuild the neural interface for the Thunderchicken..." Mona replied softly.

"Shiiiiittt." Gavarus grumbled from the table, rolling her eyes knowing this would only make O'Dell feel more guilty. "Way to keep it subtle," she muttered under her breath.

“I hurt… I hurt the Thunderchicken too…?” O’Dell’s voice wound up in a high-pitched whine as her big green eyes welled up with tears all over again. She’d already felt badly about being too tired to work, but finding out when she did the sensible thing and knocked off early only to discover in her sleep she had wrecked the prototype and nearly killed her best friend, was more than she could handle. There was the impulse to run off and hide, but she couldn’t seem to let go of Gavarus’ hand, clutching it to her chest with both arms like a lifeline.

“Does she need blood or anything? I could maybe spare a gizzard… Bone marrow maybe? I dinna have mooch but whutivvir ah kin do, Doctor…?” O’Dell offered pleadingly. The two were entirely different species, and it was clear to all involved it was a nonsensical offer. But the exhausted ensign wasn’t capable of much rational thought at the moment, as the neural interface had drained her, the incident even further, and now finding out she had damaged the prototype as well. Coming closer to the biobed to make it more comfortable for her porcine partner, the tiny test pilot managed to get it back down to just a few sniffles as she worked on stifling herself.

The EMH spoke softly as he looked down at O'Dell, which was unusual for him. "Hush, Ensign. She'll be fine. She just needs some medical care and some rest, okay?"

Then Mona pulled the small Mariprosian into another hug. "That's right. She'll be fine and the Thunderchicken is fine. I just messed up on one of the systems I installed to try and ease the strain on you, is all. If anything, it's my fault."

Nodding silently, O’Dell calmed, until her eyelids began drooping and she started awake for the third time. With the adrenaline wearing off, the exhaustion that had laid her out the first time was only more magnified now that she had discovered all the damage in her wake which was not exactly hers, yet was.

But she refused to be moved from Gavarus’ bedside, clutching the three fingered hand as though she feared if she let go, she would lose her friend. Eventually Mona compromised and set a chair next to the bedside, and within thirty seconds of planting her narrow rear in it, O’Dell was sound asleep. Still clutching the injured Tellarite’s hand with both arms, she laid her head against the beefy arm to which it was attached as a pillow. The presence of her porcine pal, with assurances that she would be fine, was enough to calm her, and soundlessly she fell unconscious once more.

Glancing over, Gavarus knew what it felt like when O'Dell was asleep as the tiny test pilot had curled up in a ball and fell asleep at her side dozens of times after a late night of partying. "Oh, good. She's out. 'Cuz this really frickin' hurts and I am completely out of juice here to... aaagh... Pretend this is... fun. It's MY frickin' ribs that got frickin' crushed."

"And tell me you went and got a sense of humor, Doc. A week of bed rest and a LIQUID diet?! What the... ahhh... What does that even mean?" Gavarus griped from the table trying to pretend she wasn't still in pain.

"Beer..." O'Dell murmured in her sleep.

"Yeah, Im gonna go off on a... Uuhh... A limb and guess that's not on the diet, Fee. Go back t' sleep." Gavarus muttered irritably. "Uh. It isn't, is it, Doc?"

"Well... Off duty for a week and light duty for a second at least," replied Doctor Power as he finished up with his current set of tools and set them aside, grabbing a PaDD and tapping at it a moment. "As for your new liquid diet, since you're a Tellarite, beer is actually a good way to get a vast majority of your nutritional needs, plus it cuts down on your need for painkillers. Here's a list of the recommended brews with the highest nutritional content."

"Holy shit... I... I need to almost get crushed to death more often." Gavarus chuckled in utter amazement which caused her to wince slightly.

As he handed off the PaDD full of ultra cheap beers to Gavarus, he nodded to Nurse Vimes and started an IV with the replicated blood. "Now, would you rather be awake or asleep as I replace your gizzard?"

Though there was discomfort, it was like the tide. The waves rolled in and everything just submerged, the pain vanishing in the eternal sea, only to return in a few hours as the tide of meds subsided and the pain returned. Six broken ribs, a ruptured appendix and a brand new gizzard were all knitted back together and reconnected by expert holographic hands. But the body still needed time to adjust and recover, the bruising and swelling of the tissues from the trauma of the injury and subsequent surgery was still, at the close of the 24th century, a recovery process that took time and rest for organic beings.

Thus the morning, such as it was on a starship, was quiet and calm, save for the chainsaw snoring of Ensign Briaar Gavarus. Which was a welcome sound to her partner in crime Ensign Fiona O’Dell, who had snuck into her bestie’s quarters and made breakfast while the great space swine slumbered. Snoring meant that her porcine pal was resting comfortably, which was of great concern to O’Dell.

Given that she had been the one, however indirectly, for said broken ribs and ruptured organs, she felt miserably guilty about her friend’s injuries. This despite all assurances that the runaway mech which had manifested her preferences and personality was not her fault, and that there was nothing she could have done to prevent it. The neural link, an experimental technology, had made a connection with her subconscious which had left the tiny test pilot mentally drained in a literal sense, as the variable mode fighter had then literally walked away from its landing pad and nipped out to the pub for a pint.

Classic O’Dell behavior, in the form of a 1 metric ton spacecraft. An affectionate mechanoid that had nearly hugged the esoteric engineer to pieces in its oddly expressed affection for Gavarus. Which led to the current moment, with O’Dell carrying a tray laden with beers and liquid foodstuffs, all of which had been approved for the recovering patient, whom O’Dell felt obligated to nurse back to health.

“Briaar? Hey, tis mornin’, aye? I thought ye might want some breakfast…?” Unlike when she would wake the towering Tellarite with a yip and snark and perhaps a tribble on the snout, the genetically gimpy ginger instead approached quietly, not wanting to startle her portly pal from her slumber but wake her gently. After all, her injuries were her fault, and thus nursing her back to health would be her responsibility and atonement, she had decided.

It took a few moments and a few repetitions with increasing, if still gentle, volume to get the portly porcine to finally stir. But the remnants of pain medication, combined with her usually deep sleeping pattern, led to Gavarus ever so slowly opening her eyes.

"Whassit? Huh?" The injured engineer muttered almost incoherently as she tried to roll off of her back, unaware of the two body pillows at her side to keep her from doing so which she had no memory of putting there. Completely re-knitted ribs needed time to fully heal, and lying supine was on the 'to do' list from the ships EMH, Dr. Power.

"Ugh... the hell? Fee? What are you doing here?" Gavarus grumbled gruffly as she attempted to scooch up in her bed, with little success, thanks to her extremely sore muscles.

“I’m, um, I brought ye breakfast?” O’Dell replied with some uncertainty, holding the tray of beers up as an offering. “I kin, uh, I kin go if ye want… or I could try to help ye up?”

Gavarus let her head go limp for a second, as she sighed as quietly as she could. O'Dell was clearly still blaming herself for what happened, which only served to break the touchy Tellarite's heart a little every time. Composing herself quickly, she looked back over and managed an authentic, if weird, smile.

"Fee. I... uh... I could... I could totally use a hand if you don't mind. And breakfast sounds like a good idea to me." She was being a bit overly gregarious, hoping to alleviate some of her best friend’s guilt, which somehow served to make her feel worse. "But, yeah. I need to sit up more or I'll frickin' drown on it."

“Alreet!” O’Dell chirped cheerfully, setting the tray down on a side table before stepping up to the bedside, heaving one of the side pillows out of the way, tossing it onto the foot of the bed, then holding out both hands. “Now ye reach across yuir body wi’ yuir left hand, and we roll ye onto yuir side. Twill sting a bit, but we need to git ye on yuir side so’s we kin get ye sittin upright, then ye can go piddle and we’ll get ye set back oop in bed so ye kin have yuir breakfast wi’oot wearin it.”

It seemed, despite her diminutive stature and lack of physical strength, O’Dell was quite familiar with how to pull an invalid upright in a sickbed, which was yet another unexpected skill of the tiny test pilot who seemed to demonstrate the oddest skillsets at times.

"Gotcha." Gavarus replied weakly, still exhausted and groggy. She reached her thick, three fingered left hand as far as she could towards the outstretched hand of her waiting friend. There was a mild sting just like O'Dell promised as she slowly turned to her side with O'Dell, feet braced against the side of the bed, serving as a leverage point since she couldn’t move the tubby Tellarite pulling with all of her might.

“Atta way, yuir doin’ great! Noow that yuir sittin oop, ye joost lean forward to get yir weight to shift, and get yuir legs under ye, and then comes the hard part- standin’ oop. Atta way, atta way, ye got it…” After what seemed like a solid hour of shuffling, grunting, wincing and griping, Gavarus had been successfully repositioned and helped to her feet.

Once the exhausted engineer was up, O’Dell slipped in by her side to help brace her as Gavarus began slowly waddling toward the reclamator. Which might have actually helped were she anywhere near Gavarus’ size- instead she just served as a steadying point. At one point Gavarus even planted her hand atop O’Dell’s head to steady herself like a cane, which worked, with no complaints from her self-appointed nurse. “Look at you, yuir doin fantastic!”

"Ow... Ow... Ow... Ow..."

Once in the reclamator, Gavarus tried to pull up on her nightshirt, a loud green number with the words "& Eggs" in bright yellow letters across the chest, and lower her underwear. But as she tried to pull them down, a stab in her stiff side made her immediately regret the action. "SHIT!! AGGGH!"

Literally recoiling from the expression of pain, O’Dell recovered quickly and scurried to the rescue. “Tis alreet Briaar, I got it, I got it, I’ll get it for ye, dinna hurt yuirself, tis alreet…” Moving nimbly around her stiff and sore partner, O’Dell tugged and peeled and worked the panties off her injured compatriot until they had made it to the deck, then she backed away to give the large mammal room to work.

“Now spread yuir legs a bit, and ease yuirself down, like a squat… not too quick or yuir liable to hurt yuirself… aye, there ye go, that’s a girl!” Cheerleading from the sidelines may or may not have been helping, but the space swine was getting it anyway. Stepping back out the door, O’Dell called over her shoulder. “Okay, I’ll give ye a moment a’privacy here, joost let me know when yuir done?”

While she hadn't been self-conscious around Fiona in forever, Gavarus suddenly found herself tremendously embarrassed but didn't want to let it show lest it upset her pint-sized partner in crime. Instead, she bit her lip and slowly scooched down stiffly onto the reclimator and tried to relax to let herself pee.

As it seemed to be with all things now, it took a bit of effort to break the seal and get things going. "@#$&! How does pissing hurt?! What the effin' @#$&."

“Oh, the bein harder to relieve yuirself is usually a side effect of the anesthetic, tends to make yuir innards a bit slow for a few days. If ye dinna poo by tomorrow night, we’ll get a laxative from the doctor,” O’Dell chimed in from outside the closed door. "Everything hurts after they mess around in yuir innards, so they tell me."

After a second as the initial soreness let up a bit, she leaned over a little. "Uh. T... Thanks, Fee. Where did you learn all this shit?"

“Aw, well, by the time I showed oop, me Da was already an old man, and years ‘a drinkin dindnae help. So his health was often poor, and he slipped and fell and broke a few things along the way. Me brothers all decided since I was the youngest and I couldna argue, I was to be Da’s nurse. So I was allays helpin him with stoof like this, getting him up and down oota chairs and bed and the like, bringin his meals, helpin him sit up… the usual stoof,” O’Dell casually rattled off how she was an oddly qualified caregiver. "Plus I was not the healthiest child, as they were always trying to figure oot why I was a runt, and I was a little fragile, so... lots of time wi' doctors and the like."

Her morning business having trickled to an anti-climactic conclusion, Gavarus strained to clean herself up and grabbed her panties from her ankles so she could pull them up with her as she creaked herself back up to wash up. "Damn. I guess that benefits me here, then. Aggh. Ow."

As soon as she made it to the reclamator door, O’Dell was under her arm, offering her the minsicule amount of stability the lightweight lass could provide. Slowly, Gavarus waddled back to the bed, grumbling with each stiff step. "That... was entirely too exhausting."

“I know… takes a lot oota ye to knit yuir insides back together, and it hurts and it isnae inny fun and I’m sorry, Briar. We’ll get ye back to bed and comfy agin then ye kin start samplin’ beers, aye?" Leave it to O’Dell to be trying to look for the bright side in all of this. Scrambling ahead, the midget Mariposian crawled up onto the bed ahead of her slow-moving pal, to stack the pillows at the head of the bed to make it easier for her to sit up. Scrambling back off the bed, she moved to guide Gavarus in. “Atta girl, back to the bed, now eaaaaasy does it… that’s right, joost like that. Now one foot up on the bed… I know, I know it hurts, I’m s’sorry… almost there, other leg now…”

Even as she spoke O’Dell got under the cumbersome calf of Gavarus’ left leg and helped ease the load of the hardest part, straining to get the left leg onto the bed. Setting it down as gently as possible, O’Dell was a bit out of breath, but still pulled up the sheets and tried to make her porcine pal as comfortable as possible.

"Fee! For shit's sake, stop saying you're sorry or I'm just gonna start farting on you." Gavarus leaned back against the propped up mountain of pillows O'Dell had somehow constructed while the grumpy engineer was relieving herself and let out a stiff groan. "As... as soon as I'm confident I can do that and not push out one of my stomachs."

Busying herself tucking the sheets under the patient, O’Dell avoided eye contact as she spoke. “I canna help it, Briaar. It’s my fault yuir in this state and I joost… I feel terrible is all, and I swear I dinna mean it. I know, I know, I hafta stop and ye aren’t mad at me and when I say I’m sorry it joost upsets ye more but I am, I’m so sorry. I hurt me best friend and damn near killed ye, and wrecked the Chicken, and… and… and…”

A number of things were clear in that moment. O’Dell was still clearly distraught, and exhausted herself. While she was trying to put on a cheerful front, just bringing it up started her winding herself up. But she took a second to sniffle sharply, then resumed her more chipper bedside manner, smiled unconvincingly and scooped up the tray of beers with a bit of effort. “But there’s beer, so that’s good, right?”

Hanging her head slightly, Gavarus let out a sigh. In her head, she all but screamed "It wasn't your FAULT, Fiona. The Chicken shouldn't have been able to do that. Gonadie will figure out exactly what happened, but you didn't do anything wrong. You had a dream where you hugged me. There's nothing frickin' wrong with that! Please stop blaming yourself for this! It's killing me!"

Which was when she realized she’d said all of that out loud. Given the mounting level of pain she was in and the toll it was taking on her already short temper, instead of backing it up or trying to elaborate, Gavarus sighed and tried to smile and simply said, "So what's... what's on the menu, Nurse O'Dell? I've got a prescription to day drink after all."

It was abundantly clear that O’Dell was incredibly sheepish about the whole affair, but the fact that she was now causing her friend emotional harm also registered with her. Thus her desire to make her injured chum comfortable managed to outweigh her surprisingly deep guilt streak, and she proudly held aloft the small tray she’d brought, which had six different beer bottles, a large cup of gelatin, and a glass of some sort of orange juice.

“I dinna know inny of these brands, but the Aldebran Pale Ale smells pretty good- ye want to try that first?”

"Well, they make kick ass whiskey. Let's give it a shot." As she was about to reach for the glass on the tray, Gavarus instead scratched her nose while she thought for a second and had an idea that might help cut the nearly unbearable tension between the two best friends. "How does it taste? Is it any good?"

Looking about, O'Dell shrugged her narrow shoulders, then gingerly slid the tray of beers onto the edge of the bed. Plucking up the bottle in question, she swirled the bright red translucent fluid about, eyeing the color and the bubbles. Passing it under her nose, she took a long sniff, savoring the scent. In the traditions of her people of course Fiona knew how to brew and distill, as tending such things was a part of life growing up. 'Because the stuff from the replicator dinna have inny spirit', as it was said.

But her brewing knowledge did her no good when it was a tour of cheap beers of the galaxy. She just followed her nose, and tried everything. If it came across a Starfleet bar, it was guaranteed not to kill you. Since this was on the list from Dr. Powers, it was even prescribed. Tilting it up, Fiona took an experimental sip. Rolling it around in her mouth, she considered it, swallowed it, then nodded. She took another sip before passing it to Gavarus.

"Kinda sweet, almost fruity flavored. A wee bit- BELCH!" O'Dell had to pause as she was practically pushed back by the force of her beer burp. "Christ jaysis, I was gonna say 'sa bit bubbly fer me ta-BEEELCH! Aw, pog me thoin!"

A smile cracked the flabby face of the Porcine Engineer, the first in a while, as she chuckled slightly at O'Dell's reaction. As she took the bottle, she winced slightly as laughing and freshly re-knitted ribs didn't get along all that well. But it was a minor stab of pain that passed quickly enough. "Sounds like it's good."

Taking a sip, Gavarus shrugged slightly and smirked before taking a larger swig of the medically prescribed beer. "Breakfast of... *BRAAAAP*... champions. Heh. What else is on the menu?"

"Let's see here... there's this'n which is supposed to be a great old Earth tradition..." Plucking up an aluminum can from the selection that bore a red white and blue label that identified it to be of a winning quality. "Replicator said this was a 'Peebeeyar'. Sooo... " Popping the tab, O'Dell took a sip and shrugged. "Not s'bad. Try this'n?"

Talking the can, Gavarus cricked an eyebrow. "Pee bee... Pee Beer? This is not promising." Taking a swig immediately after the diminutive acting nurse, the picky pig grimaced slightly. "Not surprisingly, the medically approved beers all kinda taste like it. Ah well. It's beer." Then she took a longer swig. "I was totally expecting Doctor Sunshine to prescribe some kind of bland, tasteless chalky ass drink, so this is still damn preferable."

"Alreet, let's see what else we got here..."

Thirty minutes later, eight beers and one more trip to the reclamator, the drunken duo were now chatting.

"I kin git ye s'more beer if'n ye want, Gavarus. Doc dinna say ye couldnae get hammered, an' look! Hic!" O'Dell smiled that hazy, not at all with it and definitely blind drunken smile she tended to wear when she was blitzed. Which was a sight Gavarus was quite familiar with, having seen it plenty of times now throughout their association. Having the pixie pilot test her beers was more than enough to get the lightweight leprechaun snockered, and it had worked. Now she seemed relaxed, calm and happy- more back to her usual self, as opposed to skittish and over-apologetic. "Look, we're day drinkin on orders! Hah! Slaint!"

Normally, eight beers would have barely registered to the porcine patient, but today she was still on painkillers with a completely new gizzard and two recently operated on stomachs trying to process the beer to the best of their abilities without any other food to absorb it at all. As such, she was a bit tipsier than not. But she was also feeling remarkably little pain in the healing process, so she was happy with that. And she was even more happy that O'Dell had gotten out of her own head. "So... wha' 'bout you, Fee? Did Doctor Smiles put you on any kin'a special diet or rest regi... reggy... regimen?"

“Aye… m’supposed to take some pills and eat more fish. Ah hate bloody fish, tastes awful… but Doc says me brain’s running on a low tank of somethinorother, so I need more… soomethin.” Under ordinary circumstances, O’Dell was an incredible lightweight when it came to drinking. Recovering from exhaustion and an electrolyte balance that was way off, drinking beer on an empty stomach had her feeling no pain. Fortunately, it seemed to have also relieved her overwhelming guilt over Gavarus’ injuries. Wobbling slowly from side to side, her face bore her best ‘happy drunk’ ear to ear grin.

It was a sight that served to make the infirmed engineer extremely happy and relieved. "You don't like any fish? What about, like, shrimp? Would that work?" As she spoke, her liquid filled middle grumbled. "Craaaaap, a week of all liquids. Beer or not, this sucks. Go eat something so I can smell it and live vicariously through you."

“M’nae fond of it. I dinna like the smell, mostly. But he says it has to be fish for the oils or something,” O’Dell slurred, then peered owlishly at the laid-up engineer. “Are ye sure? I dinna want ye to be… hic! To be hungry and tempted or nothing…?”

"Fee, look at this gut." As she spoke, she rolled ever so slightly jiggling her ample middle which rose like a dome in the center of the bed. "When am I not tempted to shove food in it? But you need t' eat real food n' I can drown my sorrows in my liquid lunch." As she spoke, she had a broad and genuine smile on her face. She was impossibly happy to see Fiona smiling again.

“I thought ye were joost shaped like that? Aren’t all Tellarites… I mean, round?” O’Dell asked as she clambered off the bed to toddle to the replicator in nothing remotely resembling a straight line.

"Most." Gavarus chuckled. "But not, like, all." She took a drink from the last beer she was still nursing.

"You should see my sister, Parra. She... I shit you not... She's built more like Paris. Seriously, Imagine my big ass head on Commander ThunderJuggs' body. Frickin'..." She trailed off as she spoke. "Hey, could you bring me another one 'a these... 'Mee Lee walk aya Best' ones?"

“Aye, that joost seems like it would look daft,” O’Dell ventured as she punched up the recommended diet meal from Dr. Power on the replicator. When it arrived, she punched in the code for Gavarus’ beer, only to make a discovery. “Ach, this swill comes in six-packs! Save some trips…”

Hefting the six-pack in one arm and her fishy meal in the other, O’Dell dropped the beer off with Gavarus then set her plate on the foot of the bed to take a bite. As she did so, her face scrunched up in the expression of every child forced to eat something she didn’t like. “Bleaaaaaaagh…”

“So ye nivvir talk aboot yer clan? Ye dinna like 'em none?” O’Dell tried to talk around her eating, as maybe it would not be so bad if she was distracted while she was choking down something awful tasting.

Cracking open a fresh beer, Gavarus passed a second can to O'Dell. "I dunno. I like 'em fine, I guess. They just... They don't much care for me. I've got nine sisters and seven brothers. My dad is a senator and my mom's a councilwoman. Two of my brothers and three of my sister's are in Congress. I've got an older brother who's the chief engineer of the DOYLE. My sister Quinaa is Ops Chief of the VENTURE."

Rolling her eyes as she spoke, Gavarus took a huge swig. "I joined Starfleet to shut them up. 'Look! I'm doing something with my life! I'm not just sitting in my room @#$&ing around with engine parts. Is this good enough?!' Ugh. It's never good enough."

As she spoke, the Tellarite snorted as she noticed the drop cloth with engine parts in the corner.

“Waaaaahl, I think yuir enoof,” O’Dell raised her beer and took a little sip, then tried to cram another mouthful of fish flesh in her mouth, with some degree of success, then she took a few long swallows of beer to wash it down. “Augh, that’s bloody awful. I dinna know yuir family were so highfalutin bigshots, Briaar. That musta nae been a lotta fun growin up?”

As she continued to drink, O’Dell’s accent was thickening as her conscious control over it waned.

"Yeah, no." Gavarus was glad she was a vegetarian as the smell of the fish was enough to make her want to give up, but she swallowed another swig of beer to distract herself. "EVERYTHING was a competition. And you know what sucks even more?! I'm the engineer on an experimental, badass flying, transforming robot that's going to change everything and it's TOP SECRET! So I can't even brag to miss perfect pants Professor of the Tellar prime institute of engineering!"

Grunting slightly as she winced slightly, her buzz being cut slightly by a wave of mild pain in her guts, Gavarus sighed. "But what about you? I know you have a shit-ton of brothers where you mastered the art of being an epic wingman. What was up with that?"

Unable to stomach any more of the foul sea dweller corpse, O’Dell delivered it back to the replicator and recycled it. Taking a sip of beer more her usual size, the ginger mop top toddled back to the bed to climb up on it and sit down cross-legged, facing Gavarus. “Wahhhhhl, I was the baby, ye know? Me brother Malcolm was the youngest, and he’s eight years older’n me. Plus they’re me half-brothers, but… I mean, I dinna think they treated me different fuir that, but because I was s’runty and wee, I couldnae do a lot of what they could. All the hiking and climbing and alla that they liked to do, I joost… they dinna want me taggin along.”

“Twasn’t til I helped Fergus win over a bird- gal he married, too, vurrah nice gal- that they even figured out I was good for somethin’ other’n bein Momma’s dress-up dollie. That and Momma trottin me oot to play something for folks. Da said I should be a proper lady, and he made sure I was taught how to play instruments, how to loom and weave, needlepoint, dancing, cooking… alla the skills that’d ‘fetch ye a foine husband’, he said.”

Despite her own accent, Fiona’s mimicry of her father indicated an even thicker brogue than her own, even drunk, and Gavarus suspected it was likely dead-on.

"A fine husband?" Gavarus scoffed as she took a sip, poking O'Dell playfully with a hoof from under the covers as the tiny test pilot sat in front of her. "In all the time we've known each other, you've never once even turned your head at a guy in any way even remotely "fetching". I'm guessing your family either didn't notice that disinterest or just didn't care?"

“I dinna… I dinna look at anyone. I mean, not… that way. I’m not… it doesnae… I joost…” O’Dell reached for words, trying to come up with some and failing. “I, um, I dinna… bodies mooshin together isn’t somethin’s I’m… I did it once and I dinna like it and I nivvir wanted to do it agin,” she finally admitted, before taking a long few gulps off her beer. “Da still holds oot hope I’ll marry some nice Mariposian boy, or another Bringloidian to keep the traditions alive, but… maybe? I dunno.”

"Sounds like you know." Gavarus shrugged. "If you don't think about people like that... You don't want to do that... then @#$& anyone who tells you ya' should."

The bedridden Engineer finished off her beer and put the empty on her nightstand. She could tell that O'Dell was uncomfortable talking about it so she wanted to take the sting out of the topic. "Sex isn't a universal requirement. If you don't like it, don't worry about it. Our physicals require push ups, not pull outs."

"Hah!" O'Dell barked an involuntary laugh at the joke. "Aye... I like that idea. Mashers don't come after me that often, and I spit vinegar and piss enough I make it look like I'm nae worth the trouble, and I'll scrap if it comes to that. But..." the eyes of the little lass glazed a bit as she stared off in memory for a few seconds, then she blinked it away. Then she smiled at Gavarus, a happy drunk smile. Then her eyes opened a bit, and it was clear mental wheels were turning, however slowly, before she looked a bit bashful and brought a finger up to her lips to gnaw on the fingernail a bit.

"What's... what do ye like about the big sturdy girls? Is it okay fuir me to ask? I mean, I dinna care, I'll still do me best ta help ye bag one, but... I don't... what do they make you feel?" O'Dell blinked wide, then remembered she had a beer, took a sip and had something to do with her hands, cupping the can with both in her lap as she let her curiosity get the better of her.

"Fee, you can ask me anything. Seriously." Gavarus sighed as she thought about it. It was clear, though, that she felt awkward the more she thought about it. "A lot of it is hard to explain if you don't have it... But it's... just kinda... lust."

The portly Porcine shuffled in bed as she cracked open a fresh beer. "I mean... Just chemical... desire. I don't think about it much, really. It's..."

Then her head flumped back. "That's bullshit. I'm sorry. You don't deserve bullshit. I'm... Look at me, Fee. I'm huge. I've always been huge and I'll never not be huge. I was one point seven meters at twelve and about as round. But when I was a girl, I looked at women like that and they were huge too, but it was beautiful. It was good and they made themselves that way."

"I tried for a while..." She chuckled mirthlessly as she looked down at her own body. "And I just couldn't lose a gram... I don't honestly know if I want to be with them half as much as I just want to BE them. Be perfect like that. Be... not this."

"Why? What's wrong with this?" the short stack waved her hand in the direction of Gavarus' bod. Then her eyes popped open. "Ohhhhhh, you seek to posess that which ye canna be... alreet, that makes sense." Then O'Dell frowned again. "So- scared of doctors or surgeries or sooch? This is 2496 yannow... medical technology kin do all sortsa things. but ye haven't done it, have yeh? Ye talk aboot diet an exercise, boot ye surely dinna want those things."

"So... now I'm confused," O'Dell took a pause to sip her beer, missed her mouth and dribbled some on her shirt, a jersey sleeve top that bore the logo of the Deep Space Niners. "Ye COULD be a glamma gal like Commander Have Ye Seen Me Arse if ye wanted to. Doc could fix ye oop in a jiffy. Hell's bells, they kin change yuir gender in short order, your race wi' a few hours. Species even. But ye stay this way, because you like bein a piggy, and a round one, aye?"

Chugging half the beer can, Gavarus let out a rumbling bealch. "Doc can't make me not... me. Like you said, I could have them change anything but if I was the same me on the inside, then it would never be real. It would be a... Prettier package that would fall apart before long."

"I'm... used to being what I am. If I would have been different, maybe I wouldn't have been an engineer. If I had been different, I wouldn't have tried to get away from home and find myself here with you." Gavarus sighed, smiling slightly. "So it's not all bad."

Holding out her beer, O'Dell clinked cans with Gavarus. "Dinna get me wrong, I like what you are, it's part a who y'are. I'm glad yuir nae superficial. Yuir honest wi' yuirself and the rest of the world, an' I respect that. me too. I yam what I yam, I canna be innything else. Cept when I'm in that starship. Then I'm different fuir sure. I busted up that pirate ship's bridge like a wreckin' crew. Wee Fiona canna do that but hoo, her ride surely can."

The inability to stick to a topic and ramble was the sign that Fiona was absolutely crocked, or 'pissed!' as she often said. The stress of the day before was mostly gone now, washed away by the balm of alcohol and friendship, and the stunted stunt pilot swayed as she smiled. Eyes half lidded, she was content. "Here's to goofin' off and beer liquid diets!"

Raising her beer, Gavarus smiled. She was decently drunk but clear enough to be extremely happy to see O'Dell feeling better. "I'll drink to that, Leprechaun. Which, currently, is all I can do. Heh."

"Ye got ta piddle again, donchye?"

Chuckling, Gavarus shrugged. "Totally. Sorry, but... uh... yeah, I need a little help again. I'm sorry."

"Aye! Have n'fear, Nurse O'Dell's on the job!" The picayune pilot made to roll off the bed, then landed in a heap on the floor, at which point she burst out laughing. "Ow.. not me best tumble ever. M'arright, s'alreet... okay, let's get ye up first, ye know the drill, aye? An' dinna apologize, 'tis nothin wrong with needin' help."

As she moved to the bedside, O'Dell begain to sing, not loudly, but softly, as if she were singing a lullabye. Which she kept up as she helped the hapless hog to the reclamator, helped her with her underwear then handed her a beer while she was draining the tank.

What would you do if I sang out of tune,
would you stand up and walk out on me?

Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song
and I'll try not to sing out of key.

Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends
mm, I get high with a little help from my friends
mm, gonna try with a little help from my friends...

Finishing up, Gavarus chuckled at O'Dell's random little musical interlude as she pulled her panties up with a little more ease than last time, cleaned up and began to shuffle back to bed. As before, O'Dell was right there as always, helping to steady the infirmed engineer. Grabbing the empty beer bottles and cans from the bed where Gavarus had dropped them, scrambling across the bed to tuck in the fitted sheet, then smooth out the sheets and fold down the cover sheet and blanket to make it easier to get back into. Coming back around her patient, the little woman steered the larger one to the bed, to lower herself to a seat, then to ease her into bed like an old person. After a few minutes of adjusting, Gavarus was back in bed with O'Dell tucking her back in dutifully. "Uh... thanks."

"S'okay Briaar. What are friends for, aye?" Looking around, O'Dell removed the detritus on the floor, which ended up taking a few minutes because there was more mess than what they'd made today. But still she hustled and picked up, shoving handfuls of trash and empty dishes, utensils, cups, cans and bottles as well as empty chip bags into the reclamator. While the room wasn't ready to pass inspection when she was finished, it was much closer. Eyes darting around the room, the bonny Bringloidian nodded once quite firmly with satisfaction.

"Alreet, that's all... ship shape? Well, nae that good, but better at least." The adrenaline of being called upon and then burning off the excess had now faded, and Fiona clambered onto the bed on her hands and knees, to drop herself into a sitting position, lotus style on the bed. Close enough to talk but not crowding the patient. Opening her eyes wider to bring herself back to alertness, a rather potent yawn wound itself up as her beleaguered brain, awash in far more blood alcohol content than it needed, made it's demands for oxygen known. Covering her mouth with the back of her fist wasn't terribly effective, but it was at least polite.

Watching, the exhausted engineer, settled back into bed, returned the yawn. Her prominent, if shaved down lower tusks visible. Something she didn't like anyone to see, but never cared about with Fiona. "Aw, C'mon, Fee. You know that shit's contagious."

As she spoke, Gavarus seemed to sink a little lower from her half sitting position, clearly zoning out herself. "If you're tired, you don't have to stick around. I'll be okay."

Eyes furtively darting about looking at nothing in particular, O'Dell looked out from under the random ginger curls that had fallen in front of her face. When she spoke, her voice was quiet and plaintive.

"S'been... was a hard duty shift, an' emergencies and alla... aye. It... I, uh... it's real quiet in me room, and... 'tis hard fuir me to sleep. Grew up in a house fulla men snorin at night, and it allays made me feel... safe. Looked out after, ye know what I mean?" Wee Fiona's eyes shone, though she shed no tears. It wasn't easy for her to say, but she wanted to try honesty instead of blaming being too drunk to walk to quarters or just curling up because Briaar never stopped her.

"Kin... kin I sleep wi' ye? If yuir there snorin' ta saw down a forest an' I feel ye movin' as ye breathe it makes me... ah feel saafe, and ah sleep like a lamb in the springtime. If.... tis alreet wi'ye? Aye?" The sheepish yet optimistic highlander who'd made her way to space asked her friend the sarcastic space swine frankly for a change, somewhat formalizing what had been an unspoken and informal agreement the two never spoke of, yet now she spoke of it frankly.

Rolling her eyes slightly, Gavarus grinned, chuckled, and scooched slightly over. "Why are you still talking? C'mon. I'm tired. Scooch in already."

The smile that spread across O'Dell's face was one of gratitude, and she pounced across the bed to turn oppose the tall Tellarite. Tucking her legs in tightly against her chest, she lay her elbows over and between them, curling up into a surprisingly compact bundle, even for a human being on the small size. Scooting back toward but not crowding the armpit, she slept above the covers, but with the burly engineer's arm about her, which she insistently tugged and moved into position amongst the mass of bright red curls that crowned her head, which seemed somehow too big for her body. As if her head had made it to maturity, but not her body.

Curled up beside yet encircled by the larger life form, with the lights on and drunk, but not that drunk, Fiona O'Dell took a few shuddering, halting breaths as she sought her center, finally finding it in one full and easy inhalation, which ended in a contented sight.

"G'night Briaar. Thanks fuir bein' me friend."

"Computer, lights set for sleep." Gavarus called out as the lights lowered to a much darker level, much more conducive to sleep. "You know you've got me. Now get some rest, Fee. We both could certainly use it."

As she spoke, the generally grumpy, gruff Tellarite was anything but. With a smile across her face, she knew as well as O'Dell that their relationship had somehow morphed into something much deeper than friendship, but there was a comfort in keeping up that idea. And in that moment, she was as contented to be sharing her bed with Fiona as Fiona clearly was to be there. It made her feel safe and happy to be providing the comfort the diminutive red-head needed.

In spite of everything that had lead her to be stuck in bed nursing her injuries, she was happy. In some ways, happier than she could remember being, as the duo quickly succumbed to their exhaustion and fell asleep together.

The R&D crew had been a bit separated over the past two weeks, what with Briar recovering, Fiona acting as her nurse and also recovering from overusing the old neural link, and Carrott busy with family and sickbay maternity training. On top of that, her bond-mate was on an extended away mission through time, which left Mona more time than she cared for on her hands, which she used to rebuild the Thunderchicken from the ground up.

Thankfully, she'd been redesigning a lot of it in her spare time, including having created new polymers for the skin and exoskeleton. The spaceframe would remain the same poly-duranium, but since the incident with the variable mode mecha getting up and going for a pint in 10 forward, she'd been busy building a completely new mecha that was at least thirty percent smaller, half the weight, had the same payload of sensors and weapons, included a phaser reflective skin, bio-neural computer system, and a completely redesigned neural link with a virtual intelligence that shared the load and made sure nothing like what happened before could possibly happen again.

She had just finished and run through a gamut of testing, using herself as the guinea pig the night before and fallen asleep in the cockpit, the systems still running all night when O'Dell and Gavarus were supposed to report in for duty.

As the morning alarms went off and the VI warned her of two figures approaching the lab door, Mona finally woke up, feeling completely drained and exhausted and realized she'd fallen asleep in the new prototype. "Ah, fecht... Vitals are... Well, they're crap... I'll get chewed out for that." Sending the log data to the lab stations, she went through the shutdown and climbed out of the silver-skinned mecha just as the pair entered.

"... of all the diets I've been stuck on, I'll take beer as a liquid meal every frickin' time." Ensign Briaar Gavarus chuckled to her partner-in-crime, Ensign Fiona O'Dell, the diminutive test pilot as she finished a sentence began outside of the bay doors.

"Aye! Bein' the tester was nae s'bad, neither. I'm not sure if I healed me brain or damaged it in equal amount whilst we was invalids," O'Dell chirped in agreement as she hustled alongside her long-legged partner.

As the pair entered, they stopped in their tracks at the sight of the R&D chief climbing out of an entirely new mech. "Uh... How long was I on bed rest?"

"Long enou..." Mona began before losing her footing and falling to the floor with a thud on her backside. Rather than trying to get up, she just flopped the rest of the way out and lay there, too exhausted to move any further. "Fecht..."

"Chief!" O'Dell was quick to react, and while she was far too late to catch Ensign Gonadie, she was beside her. "Ach, ye did it too, ye fell asleep in there, dincha?" Tapping her comm badge, O'Dell called out in her pipsqueak voice. "Kin we get a medical team on the flight deck, we have an emergency."

"We're nae supposed ta move ye, so joost be still, Chief. T'will be alreet..." At that, Fiona O'Dell realized that when she had fallen asleep in the fighter, it had emulated her behavior, or maintained a sufficient link to her subconscious to be a facet of her. If Mona had been asleep in the new model...

"Uh, is that new bird going to start inventing more birds now...?"

"No..." Mona began, stifling a lethargic yawn. "I redesigned the interface and the computer. The Banshee has a bio-neural computer core and a virtual intelligence to support the pilot and prevent mishaps. Still draining, though if I can last a day on the new system and sleep on it, you should have no troubles now. And it fits in a turbolift better."

"I was g'win ta suggest that to ye! The AI to balance the load and clear the buffers afterward so residual neural traces would nae be left behind. Aye, good plan mum!" At that, O'Dell frowned. "Ah, should I cancel the medical emergency? Ye seem kinda joost woozy? Maybe we should scan her, aye Gavarus?"

Flustered and still a bit stressed from the sight of their Chief falling to the deck, the towering Tellarite engineer nodded her head as she started to move. "Uh... Yeah. Yeah, good Idea. Hold on. Keep 'em on standby. Let me grab the emergency med kit. There's a tri... Hold on."

Still stiff but no longer hurting from her week-plus of medical bed rest following major surgery to repair shattered ribs and crushed organs from being hugged by an O'Dell-possessed Thunderchicken, Briaar Gavarus broke into a light trot across the deck to the medkit in the wall to port. As she did so, O'Dell downgraded the medical emergency to a standby.

"Just... Uh... Yeah. Do that, Chief. Don't try and move and just lay there a minute. Let me..." The Tellarite engineer knew her way around a tricorder well. Even a medical one. But she looked flustered.

"It... It doesn't look... Everything looks okay. Nothing broken or... Your readings are strained, like when O'Dell was in the 'Chicken a while, but nothing that looks... off? The hell is wrong with this thing?" Gavarus looked positively confused as she knelt over the exhausted Miradonian officer.

Showing the bio-readouts to O'Dell as she muttered through them, Gavarus kept talking. "You look fine, Ma'am. Just tired. But this dumb thing might need to be recalibrated. I'm getting... some kind of... I dunno. Echo. I've got your vitals just fine but the Tri-Corder is picking up three additional patterns synched with yours."

"Chief! This is... aww, I see it noow. Congratulations, mum!" O'Dell poked Gavarus on the shoulder and showed her the tricroder's interpretation of the life sign readings. "The Banshee might not be inventing new birds, but seems ye are, in more ways than one, aye?"

The brightly plumed aviatrix rested the back of one hand on her forehead and sighed happily, a soft grin on her lips. "That explains the nausea and cravings then. More so than overworking myself, anyway. We'd been trying since the bonding ceremony but for it to have taken that first night so well..."

The light in O’Dell’s eyes practically gleamed. “That’s soo fantastic, mum! I’m so happy for ye!” she squealed, wrapping the plush plumed mother-to-be in a hug. It was horribly unprofessional, but so was picking your chief up off the flight deck.

Grunting mightily, Mona tried to sit up and just flopped back on the deck, unsuccessful in her attempt. "Yeah, I'm out of energy... You two look over the Banshee and see what you think and just drag me off to the break room so I can get some food and sleep or something."

"What? We're not gonna drag... hold on, Chief," Gavarus grumbled as she looked around the lab for a moment before heading off to Mona's office and returning with her rolling desk chair, customized and designed for a Miradonian's unique posterior. "Here. This has wheels on it so we can scooch you into the break room. Uh... Fee... Ensign O'Dell. I kinda can't pick shiii... stuff up yet. But we gotta get her off the floor. Here. See if you can help me get the chief up."

Looking up at the extra-large engineer, O’Dell with her thin and spindly arms knew better than to even try, because she was nowhere near strong enough to lift the R&D chief up on her own. She’d be lucky to do it with Gavarus’ help, for that matter. Eyes flickering to the mech on the deck, there was the not inconsiderable concern that she might hurt the chief were she to man the Banshee and use it to lift her. But O’Dell had to overcome that fear- awake and alert and in command of her faculties, she would not hurt the Miradonian in her delicate condition. But short of calling for help, it was the only way at hand.

“I’ll get ye oop, mum, nivvir ye fear,” O’Dell promised as she scampered up the mech to drop herself in the pilot’s seat, starting up the systems and bringing the new improved model online, Experimentally flexing the arms and fingers of the walker-mode mechanoid, O’Dell took a sidestep to turn toward them, then lowered the hands of the prototype to the deck and scooted them to within an inch of Mona Gonadie before pausing it and hopping out of the open canopy.

Watching from the side, Gavarus felt like she suddenly needed to pee she was so nervous. Having been the recipient of a hug from the Banshee's predecessor that almost killed her a couple of weeks ago, she was fidgeting in place. "Uh... the control console. I should be monitoring the control console here." As she spoke, she ran over to the side where the aforementioned control console was. From there she could shut the entire Banshee down in and instant and monitor both Fiona and Mona's vitals.

“Alreet, help me get ye on the hands, Chief, and I’ll pick ye oop and set ye down, gentle as a feather, hm?” O’Dell held out her hand to Mona, so she could help her scoot onto the improvised lift.

"Oh fecht... There's no way for this to end badly..." Mona muttered as she took the midget Leprechaun's hand and used the last of her strength to scoot into the hand of the new mech.

“Both of yuir faith in me is deeply touchin’,” O’Dell snarled a bit as she grunted to use what strength and leverage she had to help the exhausted chief into position

From the cockpit, a soft male voice droned a warning. "Warning. Contact with biological life form detected. As combat mode is offline, safeties are engaged. Please proceed with caution."

"Hey Leprechaun, guess who gets to name him." Mona grinned as the warning message finished.

Muttering Gaelic curses under her breath, O’Dell scrambled back into the cockpit and re-engaged the system. Gingerly picking up the pregnant chief, O’Dell moved with surety and confidence, one hand placing the Miradonian in the chair, tilting the hand to enable her to slide off the mech’s hands, the other hand holding the chair steady. Once Gonadie was successfully transferred to the chair, the plucky pilot patted the brilliant inventor on the head ever so gently.

“Once,” the mech held up a finger. “The damn thing runs off once and nearly kills someone when I wasnae even in the pilot's seat and now neither of ye have inny faith in me? That’s real nice, thanks ta both a’ye. Pog mo thoin…” With that, O’Dell powered down the mech and climbed out of it again. The fact that both the chief and her engineer were that nervous around her in the spacecraft spoke volumes of how much their confidence in O'Dell had been shaken, which in turn took a wrecking ball to what confidence she was trying to rebuild with the seemingly simple action.

"Ya'know..." Gavarus grumbled as she came up behind Mona's chair, "Considering that I was the 'someone' in question, I think I'm entitled to be a little frickin' twitchy around the new model. Which, ya'know, NEW model! You never actually drove THIS one before! Which you kicked ass at, by the way!"

The touchy Tellarite was arguing, and conversely, complimenting O'Dell over their exhausted department chief's head as if she wasn't still there. "Plus, ya' know, you were picking up the now-pregnant wife of Lieutenant Murder-Punch, who would actually kill us if..."

Freezing, mid-sentence, Gavarus crunched herself up in embarrassment as the blood rushed from her face. "Shit. I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Mona couldn't help but chuckle softly as she sat there mostly limp in her chair. "No, I trust you, Fiona. After what happened, I didn't trust myself, which is why I rebuilt the system from the ground up. There are still neural buffers, but there's the bio-neural gel systems and the VI to share the load and safeties just in case. I tried to make it smart enough to follow simple voice commands, but I'll leave training it up to you."

"As for my wife, Lieutenant Murder-Punch..." Mona rolled her head so she could look at Briaar, a weary and punch drunk grin on her face. "Miradonians crave meat while we're pregnant. I'll try to be considerate, but you do look pretty tasty right now..."

Looking from the creepy grin of the chief up to O'Dell, Gavarus chuckled nervously as she grabbed the back of Mona's chair. "Break room. Replicator. Yeah, it's lunchtime." And began pulling Mona gingerly behind her.

Hands on her hips, O’Dell approached the new, smaller, sleeker silver mechanoid fighter, still entirely irritated. “Alreet Ogma. Since apparently ye and me are to have our competency doubted and our skills distrusted, it looks like we’re in this together. Feh,” O’Dell began speaking animatedly with her hands.

“They worked so hard to convince me that it was nae me fault, that it couldnae be helped, that it was a ghost in the system or whativvir. So she rebuilds it from the ground up, adds in a VI to help bear the load, yet they still dinna trust us. That’s crap, and I dinna care fuir that. Nae one bit. Like I’d ever hurt Chief Gonadie! I joost wanted to help, and for her not to have to get picked up off the floor by somebody else. Teaches me, dunnit? Next time her modesty can go flip an’ she gets a full medical emergency and she kin be embarrassed,” O’Dell grumbled.

“Ye know what? Fook iad go léir,” O’Dell declared, scrambling back into the cockpit. “Warm it oop, Ogma. We’re takin’ her oot for field trials right bloody now. They want ta think we canna do it, I’ll show ‘em who canna fookin do it…” Flipping switches and tapping at the interface panels, O’Dell ran the preflight checks and closed the canopy even as she filed a flight plan with traffic control, as she prepared to fly angry.

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

In the break room, completely unaware of what was happening just outside, Gavarus was grunting as even pulling Chief Gonadie in her rolling chair was something of a strain on the still-recovering Tellarite. But after a minute, she pushed the chair and it's occupant gently up to the lunch table as she walked over to the replicator. Turning to the exhausted R&D chief, Gavarus cleared her throat and tried to pretend she was professional. "Uh... so Chief. What... what would you like to eat? Actually? Do you know what you're allowed to eat since you're... ya' know. Um... Coffee? Can you have coffee?"

Mona leaned forward, doing her best to summon enough strength to at least eat something. "Yeah, I'm supposed to eat about the same with more proteins. A mint mocha latte and breakfast set C with a double omelet and triple bacon, please. And if you could check on Fiona? I'm worried about her."

With a nervous chuckle, Gavarus realized that Mona wasn't completely kidding earlier as she called up the Chief's bacon-heavy order on the replicator. Placing the heaping meal and coffee on the table, the Porcine Engineer stepped back and nodded. "H... Here you go chief. I'll be back in a minute."

As she left the break room, she continued. "I'll check on F... Ensign O'Dell. She's a little upset but I'm sure she's..."

Back in the main test bay and we'll put of earshot of Mona, Gavarus froze. "...Okay?!"

The Silver Banshee was stepping up to the now open spacedoors and shaking itself off as it seemed to be preparing to fly out of the ship. Gavarus, in spite of her lingering stiffness, immediately broke out into a run. Not to the control console, but to the mighty mech itself and her best friend piloting it. "FIONA!!! What the effin' @#$& are you doing!?"

“Doin’ what I’ve done me whole life," the tinny voice of the pixie pilot broadcast from the control panel behind them. "Provin’ that I can, or I’ll find a way. Ye said it was nae me fault, but ye think I’m g’win ta hurt somebody, so I’ll show ye I’m as good as I ever was. Maybe better, who knows.” With that, the impulse engines lit up and the mech hovered off the deck. The hand of the mech came out to gently but firmly nudge Gavarus off to the side, out of the way. “But I kin do it, and I’ll prove it to ye!”

"Prove... Shit yes, you can do it!" Gavarus was fuming as she ran back in front of the hovering banshee and stomped her hoof on the deck. "What happened was NOT your fault, but whatever happens if you take this out there sure as @#$& will be, Fiona!!!"

Shouting out at the cockpit, Gavarus was terrified but too angry to care about it. "I'm your @#$&ING ENGINEER, and I don't even know if that thing is spaceworthy yet! DO YOU?!"

The face of the pilot contorted in frustration as she realized that she didn’t know, but then she realized she had a perfect way to find out. “Ogma, are we spaceworthy?”

The VI, quickly figuring out that Ogma was its new designation, ran through a self-check of all flight systems, displaying them on the cockpit displays. "Affirmative. All of my systems check out and are installed. However, without a spacesuit, I am unable to guarantee that the pilot unit is spaceworthy. I am also unable to relay flight and targeting information to the pilot unit."

Face squinching up in a determined frown, the pint-sized pilot made the call. “I could pilot the first prototype wi’oot me armor. I’m sure t’will be fine- ye can still gimme HUD on the canopy, aye?”

"No, that's a big ass NO!" Gavarus shouted. "Fee! Land and look at me! Please! You're angry and I get it! But at no point did either of us doubt your frickin' ability! Gonadie's in there likely snoring face down in her eggs because that thing was too much for her. But it's not too much for you and NOBODY on this ship doubts that! Especially not @#$%ING ME!"

There was clearly an internal debate raging, as the short stunt pilot who had been forced to prove herself in anything she did, battling against the trust she had in her best friend, and her plea for sanity. As well, her point about how any catastrophe from this point would be her fault. While she didn't want to admit it, Gavarus was right. For all she knew Gonadie might have cross-wired something in her exhaustion, and Fiona was just being dense now. Reluctantly, she lowered the mech to the deck with a feather-light landing, and powered down the impulse engines. The mech's shoulders sagged a bit, then it visibly sighed.

"Thank you. Now..." Gavarus was looking up at the still significantly larger mech as she realized what she needed to do. "Okay, this is a pain in the ass not being able to see you when I yell at you."

As she spoke, she held her arms up at her sides and put on the most serious face she could manage. "Pick me up so I can see you!"

There was a brief expression of panic that crossed the face of the pipsqueak pilot, as she was stricken by the concept. But that gave way to a frown, then an expression of determination, followed by exhaling, and a centering moment of zen.

Without hesitation, the left hand took hold of Gavarus, the pinkie sliding underneath her rump to support her, even as the thumb formed an armrest, the prototype silver Banshee easily picked Gavarus up, and brought her alongside the cockpit, even as the canopy raised and O'Dell turned to look at her porcine partner in crime, who'd just stopped her from doing something colossally stupid for bad reasons.

Staring at her, there was a mix of emotions in the infuriated engineer's eyes. There was fear and anger and intense sadness. So much she practically shuddered in the Banshee's hands. "Don't you ever tell me I have no faith in you, Fiona O'Dell! EVER! I trust you with my LIFE! But you try so hard to prove yourself that sometimes I don't trust you with YOURS!"

With each punctuation of the sharp-tongue Tellarite's tirade, Fiona O'Dell flinched- slightly at first, then with more than her eyes, her hands coming up a bit defensively.

"Yes! I was scared. I was scared of an untested mech that already messed up the chief. That I hadn't so much as scanned. But I didn't doubt YOU for a millisecond. I didn't doubt you helping the chief up, I don't doubt you now and I didn't even doubt you in the 'Chicken in Ten-Forward."

"If it wasn't for you I would have NEVER stepped out of that cyclone to fix it In the middle of an asteroid field. If it wasn't for you I would have been busted to petty officer for my quarters or booted off the ship because of my fat ass. If it wasn't for you I'd be nobody! But I need you to know how amazing you are because everyone else knows it. You've got NOTHING to prove!"

Again, at each shouted word, O'Dell cringed a bit. A reaction of fear that tore at Gavarus every time she saw it, and now seemed like as good a time as any to address it.

"I trust you, Fiona. But I don't always trust the technology. I KNOW how delicate it is inside and out. I helped put it together. I keep it running. And it's hard to NOT think of the ten million things that could fail catastrophically for no reason every time you step into this and trust your life to our work. It's terrifying to me, Fee."

"But do you trust me? You say over and over that you would never hurt me. You get mad because I'm... I'm justifiably scared of this thing. But..." She paused, unsure of if she should keep going. "But right now... Right now you look like you're afraid that I'm going to hit you, Fee. You're flinching right now. If it makes you feel bad that I'm a little scared of the Thunderchicken, how the hell do you think it makes me feel when I see you look at me with fear in your eyes. I'd rather let you stomp on me with this thing that ever hurt you, Fee."

Those bright green eyes widened in shock, as she looked at where her hands were, what her posture was doing. In a flight couch in an experimental mech that greatly amplified her strength and reflexes, she had dropped the controls to cringe back, and in that moment Fiona O'Dell finally saw it. Internally, her mind raced, which meant that her mouth engaged.

"I mean, you are a lot bigger than me, and, aye, that other night in 10-Forward when ye did fall off yuir barstool, it does hurt havin' ye land on me. But... that's nae excuse. Ye'd never hurt me, Briar, and I believe that. Well... I didn't at first, because the first time ye got mad at me a bit, it scared me, aye. But I did figure out ye meant me no harm. We're pals, ye and me, and... I know ye'd ne'er raise a hand aginst me in anger. I do believe that."

"S'jooooost, uh, I have issues wi' people I care about lashin' oot when they be drunk or angry. Which isnae fair to you, because you're a right merry drunk, and a game partner in crime," O'Dell hastily added. "So... okay, aye. All fair dinkum to me, and I'll... I'll give ye the courtesy I expect from ye. Thanks fuir, well... makin' me see it. Ye're a mate."

It was clear to Gavarus as she listened that someone... maybe multiple someones... that Fiona had cared about had hurt her. Probably physically. And the idea infuriated her that anyone would want to hurt someone like Fiona, but she swallowed that moment of anger and nodded. That was a discussion for another time. "It's... It's okay, Fee. Really. We're mates. I'm not going anywhere and I'm never hurting you. I promise you that. Okay? We're in this together. We drink together. We get hurt together. And we'll figure this all out and we'll be okay together, right?"

Sniffling slightly, Gavarus continued. "Though we should probably check on the chief before we start official system tests, I'm thinking? Wanna let me down and we can go check? Grab a snack?"

Another enthusiastic shake of the mop of bright red curls that festooned the head of the emotional ensign, which was notably absent from the mech's movement, and the Banshee strode over to the doorway to the lounge, where it gently and carefully set the injured engineer down, none the worse for wear this time. Then O'Dell walked the fighter back to the pad, and parked it there in walker mode.

"Thanks, Ogma. I appreciate that ye told me the risks but were willin ta let me make me own choices. I'm lookin forward to workin with ye, aye? I'm Fiona O'Dell... I'll be yuir test pilot." It might have seemed silly to introduce herself to the craft. But the Thunderchicken had only a ship's computer, not a full fledged intelligence. This time O'Dell would have a copilot, so she figured best to get off on the right foot with him.

"Affirmative. Primary pilot unit O'Dell, Ensign. F. Identity confirmed. Permissions set." The internal intelligence now dubbed Ogma replied dispassionately. "Welcome. Your actions indicate a reckless and emotional nature to your piloting. Should this be our usual relationship- that of 'daredevil' and 'voice of reason', Ensign O'Dell?"

"Soomtimes, Ogma. But sometimes we'll take it slow and easy because testin' ain't all aboot the daredevil moments- tis aboot gathering and applying the data, aye? S'why I named ye as I did- after the inventor of Ogham, the runic language in which Irish Gaelic was first written. That's how me people evolved from a spoken word culture- through recorded language, thus compounded knowledge. Ye'll be that for all the Banshees yet to come, aye? I'll do the flying, and you'll make it all data. S'a wonderful thing. But fuir noow- g'night, Ogma."

"Good night, Ensign O'Dell."

Smiling, Gavarus was glad to see O'Dell in a better headspace. She knew that after the last few weeks, their relationship had somehow morphed into something more than best friends, but neither woman would openly acknowledge it. So the Tellarite did what they both usually did and changed the subject away from their feelings. "C'mon. Let's see how the chief is holding up. You know how draining this is, so maybe you can help her deal with it."

Powering down the system, O'Dell made sure to engage the new safety locks, and she also noticed that the shutdown procedure covered powering down the neural net as well as locking the parking brake, so the newer model wouldn't nip out to the pub after hours. Scrambling out of the cockpit, the lithe lightweight leprechaun closed the cockpit canopy behind her and scooted over to stand in front of her porcine partner in crime.

"Thank fuir talkin me down, Briaar. I know I shouldn't be so quick to think folks think less of me, and ye and the Chief keep tryin ta tell me, but... tis a hard habit to break, ye ken?" The little ginger looked up with a somewhat sheepish expression on her face. "I'm grateful to ye for stickin wi'me, even when I act like a tit."

"Now let's see if the Chief is sleepin' it off in her breakfast, aye?"

The hour was late, and on the flight deck of the R&D department, the unlikely duo of Ensign Fiona O’Dell and Ensign Briaar Gavarus had exchanged some long-overdue words and worked through the lingering stress of the recent incident involving an inexplicable malfunction which caused the massive mech called the Thunderchicken to run mildly amok, running off of the tiny test pilot’s brainwaves and almost crushing her best friend to death in a well-intended hug. But there on the deck, in the updated production model of the mech, dubbed the Banshee, the two worked things out and now needed to attend to a different problem.

The Banshee’s exhausted and very likely unconscious inventor, and their supervisor, Ensign Mona Gonadie. All but knocked out by that same neural interface that tended to mentally and physically drain its users past the point of good sense.

Nodding with a smile, Gavarus gave no further attention to the emotional situation and moved on to the business at hand. The pair would only ever deal with their emotions up to a very specific, invisible line, and then always changed the subject and it would be no different today. Entering the break room where Ensign Gonadie was, as Gavarus predicted, passed out in her half-eaten breakfast. Her cheek resting in a mound of eggs and a gentle, trilling snore rippling out.

Chuckling, the pair stepped over. Gavarus whispered at O'Dell, "Uh... you're better at the 'gentle' shit. But we should probably wake her up and get her to her quarters, right? I mean, nobody else needs to see this."

Listening, O'Dell was oddly fascinated, and she whispered to Gavarus. "Listen... when she snores, s'like a cat purring, but different."

Putting the table between her and the exhausted inventor, O'Dell called out. "Chief Gonadie? Kin ye hear me? We need ye to wake oop, so's we kin walk ye to yuir quarters, aye? Wakey wakey maybe?" At that, O'Dell paused, then turned to look at Gavarus. "We could beam her back to her quarters wi' the pad on the flight deck, aye? I mean, if she won't wake up and we dinna want her to end up in sickbay? Or should we take her to sickbay, because that's what she'd do if t'was me snorin' in me eggs... what do ye think?"

Pulling out the medical tricorder again, Gavarus gave the exhausted bird a quick scan. "It just looks like it drained the shit out of her. It's was always this hard waking you up after you'd been in the old 'Chicken a while too back when you first started using the neural link. Plus, I don't know if it's safe to beam her. I mean, I know literal CRAP about Half Romulan bird babies." Gavarus replied, stroking her snout ponderingly.

Then, without much warning, she moved to slap a hand down on the table and when she had it upraised, O'Dell intervened by grabbing at the arm with both hands. "Whist! She's preggers, are ye daft? No sharp noised nor joomp scares. They call it a 'delicate condition' fuir a reason, aye? Look, I dinna even remember walkin back to me quarters last time, and I coundnae be roused. Herself here is likely the same."

"So how do we get her back to her quarters wi' her dignity intact. Ach, and the Lieutenant's on an away mission too, so she canna come get her... also means we'll have to tuck her in. Ah... this all sounds a bit madcap but also an invasion of privacy," the warning bell in her head of the flight chief explaining the invasion of privacy for being in the shared quarters of Lieutenant Dox and her wife hauling their unconscious chief made O'Dell blanch again. "Think we should make sure she doesnae drown in her omelet and see if Carrot's aboot? Medical is better equipped for this than ye and me I'm thinking Gavarus, me old sot."

As delicately as possible, Gavarus lifted the feathered head of the R&D chief out of her eggs and leaned her back in her chair. Mona's delicate, trilling snore continued unabated as it was clear she was out hard. "Carrot's off duty dealing with his own preggers wife and Doc Powers is... hell... he's less subtle than I am."

Stepping back to stand next to O'Dell, the nervous engineer tilted her head while they both looked at their unconscious chief. "We can't just have you carry her in the Banshee, tiptoeing down the corridors. And I don't want to go into casa de Murder-Punch uninvited any more than you do."

"Okay, maybe we could move the lunch table here, have a bed replicated in and lock down the break room and let her sleep it off here? Carrot's not around, so it's not likely that anyone else is going to want to use this room." Gavarus suggested, grasping at straws.

"Nah, that'll still be a medical issue, and you know how private the chief is," Gavaris snorted in sharply then sighed, crossing her arms over her prodigious belly as she nixed her own plan. "She likes for her work to speak for her and all that. Her vitals are stable, she's just beat. I think we could get her on a grav sled, then over onto the platform and beam her to over her own bed, then remote the platform to tip, we beam the platform out, no intrusion!"

"Kin we do that wi'oot authorization? I know we're officers and all, but don't site to site beaming during day to day operations take some kinda clearance, aye? Plus m'worried aboot droppin her on her less padded part. Maybe put her on the grav sled on her tummy? Then when we drop her into her lovenest she'll land on her bum, because that bird's got a lot of plumage, if ye know what I-"

Suddenly, Gavarus and O'Dell froze where they stood as an icy "AHEM..." sounded out from the doorway behind them. Turning with a start, there stood the Hera's resident independent Romulan Intelligence Operative, Jaeih Dox. The mother of the dreaded Lieutenant "Murder-Punch" and Chief Gonadie's newly minted Mother in Law.

Not that either of them knew any of that. This was the first time they'd laid eyes on the severe-looking Romulan woman in the grey uniform with no rank.

"What in the hell are you two doing? What happened to my Daughter?" The stern-faced woman demanded, staring at them with daggers in her eyes.

As one, O'Dell and Gavarus' eyes half-lidded, then they turned to look at one another dubiously. Turning back to the civilian, they both took a step forward.

"Mum, ye canna be here, this is a restricted area. Who's yuir section chief?" the little redhead explained in a squeaky yet confident tone.

Raising a single eyebrow and meeting O'Dell's gaze with her arms folded behind her back, Jaieh replied flatly but firmly. "My name... is Jaeih Dox. I am an independent consultant for the Hera's Intelligence department. While I work under the aegis of Intel Chief Clemens, I answer directly to Commander Paris in all tasks. Except when I am consulting with Ensign Gonadie on her various projects involving cloaking technology."

Moving her gaze up to the taller Tellarite, Jaeih continued, "So, when I am in THIS room, which I am authorized for clearance to be in or the door would not have admitted me, my direct supervisor is the woman whom you seem to be scheming around. She is the wife of my daughter and that makes her, too, my daughter."

"So, that being said, WHY does she have egg in her feathers? Why is she unconscious? And why are you two trying to figure out how to move her from this location without being seen?" Jaeih asked point-blank as her eyes narrowed to slits.

Both junior officers, now in full understanding of just who this was, both gulped simultaneously as they both thought, Grandma Murder-Punch?!?

"Ah, well, y'see, the chief..." O'Dell volunteered, speaking very quickly and animatedly to illustrate the story as she relayed it. "W, she and me, been on bedrest fuir a few days because we had an accident wi' the neural interface. So since the Lieutenant is way, seems the chief just tried to work herself to death and built an entirely new prototype from the ground oop. I dinna think she's been sleepin, cuz she smells a bit molty, and she fell asleep in the blasted thing, the very thing she was tryin' ta protect against, and it, ah, it drains yuir brain a bit, somethin' ta do with mappin the subconscious- there's a few reports."

"But we pooled her oota the prototype and scanned her and figured out she's in the family way, and I know from experience she's nae g'win ta wake oop, so we wanted to figure out how to get her back to her quarters so she dinna have to be, y'know, exposed. People're use ta seein Gavarus drag me home unconscious, but the chief's got her dignity, y'ken? Plus if we got medical involved it would ruin the surprise that she's... ahhhhhh, bollocks." O'Dell realized that in her retelling, she had done precisely that to the elder Romulan woman. Who, given her expression, still looked pretty Vulcan to the midget Mariposian.

While internally, Jaeih was ecstatic to hear what the diminutive test pilot had accidentally revealed about Mona's newly discovered pregnancy, her ice-cold expression and body language had not wavered in the slightest. A lifetime in the Romulan Tal'Shiar helped craft a masterful poker face and she simply stared at O'Dell.

After a moment of impossibly awkward silence, Jaeih simply began speaking as she stepped directly between the two Ensigns over to Mona as she delicately picked bits of egg out of her brilliant plumage. "I have clearance to enter their quarters, so getting her in her own bed will be simple enough. Moving her, however, without attracting undue attention will take more doing. Were Commander Paris back, I have no doubt she would approve a clandestine site-to-site beam, however, she is not and I do not have said clearance. I have the most direct path to her quarters in mind and the crew is largely engaged in other business. The corridors are largely bare at this late hour."

With Mona's plumage now free of debris, Jaeih continued. "You, Tellarite. You and I will carry Ensign Gonadie while..."

But as she spoke, Gavarus cleared her throat to interrupt. "Uh... I... Um... medical orders, I just recovered from surgery and can't carry anything for at least..."

This time it was Jaeih's turn to interrupt as she simply cut off the Porcine Ensign to continue. "Very well. Then this chair has wheels. I can push her as needed if you two would be so kind as to provide us... cover. Walk ahead and come up with some reason for anyone you see to walk the other way. Do you think you can come up with something to help expedite this?"

"Beggin yuir pardon mum," O'Dell stepped up, clasping her hands behind her back to look up at the stern Romulan taskmistress in the eye. "But while ye may have authorization, ye dinna have rank. Yuir a civilian, so ye canna order us aboot. Ye may answer to the Commander, but ye dinna speak for her. So as the rankin' officer I think wheelin' the chief to her quarters in an office chair is definitely not keepin' her dignity intact, nor tis it vurrah safe. We're willin' ta work with ye on a solution, but I dinna think that's the one, unless ye's got a cloak we kin put in her lap and joost clear a path before it so's nobody sees through it, and we could get her back to quarters thataway?"

"I stand corrected, Ensign." Jaeih nodded, a slight smirk cracking her facade as the diminutive officer exercised her authority. "I do not have such a device, no. And I am open to suggestions, although we may need to consider that simply contacting medical and asking for... discreet assistance may be the most prudent option. How would you recommend proceeding?"

"Waaaahhhhhl, since ye asked..."

It took only a few moments to set up the holotrainer to link up with the Silver Banshee, at which point it was an easy if nerve-racking fix to use the Banshee to place the exhausted Miradonian into the empty cockpit, as guided by the hands of Fiona O'Dell, who was speaking through the mech. "So me idea here is that if we kin joost play it off as an exercise, we can literally walk her doown to her quarters in Officer's Country, then once we've got her tucked in safe and sound, we kin joost beam the Banshee back to the pad here, and none will be the wiser. And if we get called on it later the Chief kin claim it was an exercise in precision starship invasion or some other nonsense. Or testin' the viability of the mech as a drone within starships or some such rot. Aye?"

Staring blankly for a moment, Jaeih's Dox's eyebrow cricked and her jaw hung open for a moment. "That... might very well be the single most ridiculous plan I have ever heard."

"But..." Jaeih interjected as she raised a finger and began to pace. "We will have to take the turbolift on the far port side lest we have to walk this past two sets of security guards on the other end of the corridor."

Then she pointed her finger at the Tellarite Engineer, Briaar Gavarus, who stood to attention out of both fear and habit. "Ensign. According to the manifest, you are the assistant chief of this department, correct?"

"Uh... Y... Y... Yeah? Why?" Gavarus stuttered nervously.

"Then can you not prepare the proper paperwork to file this little adventure as the exact sort of training exercise that she recommended, correct?" Jaeih added flatly in her usual stern tone. "That may keep us all from ending up in the brig if this doesn't go as planned."

Confused, Gavarus looked up into the Banshee and then at O'Dell. "Uh... I... I can actually do that, can't I, Fee? I mean, Gonadie will have to sign off on it later, but, yeah?"

"Aye, ye can, and it'll stand unless it can be misproven, which means followin' oop with the chief later." As she spoke, the canopy came down, and the mech spoke not only with O'Dell's voice, but with her mannerisms as well, the hands of the mech moving animatedly as Fiona tended to do when she was speaking and excited. "I'll admit Herself might not be that enthusiastic aboot it, but if we keep it quiet the Lieutenant'll nivvir know, and she wilnae be in dutch with the wife, and who knows, she might joost give us a commendation for original thinkin' aye?"

Chucking a thumb at the disapproving Jaeih Dox, the mech continued. "And ought to keep Granny Goodness here from murder-punchin us, so that's a win."

Frantically typing on her PaDD, Gavarus looked nearly about to pass out as the color flushed from her fat face. Meanwhile, Jaeih walked around the Banshee, arms folded neatly behind her back, evaluating the animated mech. "So, you two are where that... colorful epithet for my daughter originated from. Interesting. You are correct, however. The less the Lieutenant knows about this insanity, the better for all of us."

"This is a simple technical exercise, nothing more. Correct Ensign Gavarus?" Jaeih asked of the flustered Tellarite who, in spite of her gruff demeanor more often than not, clearly panicked when confronted by even the facade of authority.

"Huh? Uh... Yeah. YES! Right. Filed." The anxious Engineer waved her PaDD at Fiona, sitting in the simulator control outfitted in her EVA armor to be able to fully and precisely control the walking spacecraft. "Testing parameters are filed. We're officially taking the Silver Banshee for a simple maneuverability and precision infiltration test. We'll just need to get the Chief to sign off on it later "

Stepping over, Jaeih held out her hand for the PaDD. "Assuming we are successful in this clandestine charade, I can ply her sympathies with breakfast and maternal guilt when she has awoken from this mechanically induced hibernation, and we can all avoid potentially serious ramifications."

Hesitantly, Gavarus hands over the PaDD to Mother Dox, who took it and refolded her hands behind her back. "O... Okay, Fee. I checked the ship sensors. As of right now, our path is clear. If... If we're gonna do this, it's gotta be now."

"Potentially serious," the mech scoffed. "Conspiracy to avoid embarrassment. I'll stand on those charges all day. C'mon ye two, clear me a path. The new model is a bit more maneuverable, so I think I'll only need to transform her for the turbolift. C'mon, let's get a move on, aye?"

While in the presence of anything remotely resembling an authority figure made Gavarus panic, the usually brash O'Dell, once ensconced in a cockpit, was the soul of confidence. "Alreet, let's get this show on the road, and this bird home ta roost, aye? G'wan ye two, clear the halls fuir me, and let's try not to step on innyone!"

With that last confident command, Jaeih simply nodded and walked calmly as Gavarus, somewhat frantically, trotted over to the main doors from the bay into the corridors of the Hera. The towering Tellarite was still stiff from her recovery and would probably be a little sore from all the exertion of the day, but once outside she called back in. "We're clear."

Moments later, with the stern-faced Romulan woman walking ahead, Gavarus had a fresh PaDD in hand and was pretending to care intently about the operations data streaming from the Banshee as the silver-skinned mech began to almost strut down the corridor casually.

"A little TOO casual, Fee. You look like you're out cruising for chicks in that thing." Gavarus whispered to the Mech as the slumbering Ensign Gonadie rested comfortably inside, oblivious to her part in the madcap caper.

The mech replied by making gun fingers with both hands, then graduating to a more plodding gait, which was considerably more mechanical. Ahead, crewmen who were coming down the corridor were encouraged to find an alternate route or were simply turned around by the no-nonsense expression of the Romulan woman preceding the walker mode mech, while Gavarus made excuses and suggestions.

The group had made their way to the turbolift without incident, where the significantly smaller than its predecessor craft transformed into it's hovering vehicle mode. Moving with surprising grace, the sleek spacecraft slid into the lift, nose first, then settled against the side of the lift. While it still could not fit into the lift in walker mode, that was part of the charm of the variable mode fighter craft. While it was a snug fit, there was just enough room for Gavarus and Jaeih to squeeze in with the mech.

Forced to squeeze tightly against each other, Jaeih looked up at the taller woman and rolled her eyes as she sniffed slightly. "So far, so good. Deck 8, computer."

With a chirp, the lift began to move towards its destination. "We may yet still succeed here, ladies..." Then the terse Romulan's face scrunched into a pained grimace as she sniffed more. "By Al'thindor, what did you DO, woman?"

Her face flushed pink with embarrassment, Gavarus chuckled nervously. "What? I just got off a liquid diet for a week! So me and O'Dell had Mexican for lunch!"

“I’d say breathe through yuir mouth but it doesnae help. Joost escape the source and hope it doesn’t penetrate the fibers of yuir uniform,” the starship cheerfully advised as the doors slid open. Deck 8, ladies lingerie, housewares and senior officer’s quarters.”

"The uniform will need to be replicated down to the atoms, I think." Jaeih muttered, trying to keep her mouth shut.

As the two women piled out of the turbolift, the starcraft backed out, with only one minor scrape along the side of the craft before it smoothly transformed back to walker mode. Settling back on the deck once more, the arms spread wide. “Most ‘a the way home free. Now all we need is to make it to our destination without getting called out, and we can put this bird to rest.”

Shaking her head and taking a deep breath of fresh air from the corridor, Jaeih adjusted her gray tunic and began to walk ahead. "I'll look ahead... far ahead."

Walking behind her with an indignant expression, Gavarus was getting just a hair less anxious around the intimidating Romulan woman as she muttered, "Ya' know. Both of you can kiss my..."

But the Porcine engineer was cut off as, from behind the not-so-subtle trio came a familiar voice that stopped them in their tracks. That of the Hera's premier Security Amazon and Captain of the Honor Guard, who also happened to be the focus of Gavarus' more primal urges, Petty Officer 'Big Ethel’ Jablonski.

“Say now, I didn’t get a notice that anyone was gonna be piloting the… is that the Thunderchicken? Looks different,” Jablonski observed, as she had worked with the craft before and was familiar with the original model. “Yeah, but I didn’t get any notice of maneuvers on this floor today. Soooo is there something going on I should know about here, eh?”

While the tone was relaxed and friendly like the neighborhood beat cop, Jablonski herself was a huge intimidating mass of muscle, and while she held no weapon in her hand, that could change in the flick of a wrist, literally.

Freezing in place, Gavarus looked down at her PaDD and back up to the Banshee for a moment before realizing that as the assistant R&D Chief, it was her question to answer. That, added with her general nerves around the gorgeous Security titan, caused her two stomachs to all but flop over each other.

But, with a hard swallow, suddenly she found words beginning to fall out of her mouth. "Uh... SHIT! Oh my gods... Shit!" Gavarus was drawing on very real panic as she began improvising. "Miss Ja... Ethel! Oh my... Ensign Gonadie is going to kill me. Here..."

Holding up the order she herself had written and filed not ten minutes earlier, her own thumb obscuring the LACK of Mona's own signature on the document, she flashed the screen at Jablonski as she kept talking before pulling it away just as quickly. "Here's the order. I... I've been so flustered trying to get caught back up with work that I forgot the file it after Ensign Gonadie gave it to me. But it's right here, I just... oh my gods, I'm gonna get snapped back to the academy! I was just... since my INJURIES, it's been hard to get back into a rhythm and... Damn it, what am I gonna do?"

The panic was real but the scenario was invented on the spot, whole cloth and even Gavarus didn't know where it was all coming from. As she rambled on quicker than she hoped Jablonski could likely follow, Jaeih and the Cockpit of the Banshee turned slightly to look at each other than back to the impressive spray of lies from the pig.

Taking it all in stride, Petty Officer Second Class Jablonski nodded. “Yeah, I heard you were laid up from the last time one of those decided to go on walkabout. It isn’t empty this time, is it?”

“I’m standin’ right here ye know,” the voice of O’Dell, chirpy and distinctive with its Irish brogue, unique on the starship, was one that was easily associated with the tiny test pilot. Who was in turn almost always seen in the company of the towering Tellarite who was her engineer and drinking buddy.

Turning to take in the sight of the walker mode mech. Jablonski waved, and the Mech raised its hand and waggled the fingers back to her, followed by a jaunty two-fingered salute. “Joost passin through, no danger afoot, joost yuir favorite pint-sized pilot passin through. Chief wanted to see if I could manage a stroll through the decks withoot scrapin or breakin things. So far s’good!” The mech raised a thumbs-up.

There was a moment of hesitation on the part of the petty officer, who took her duties quite seriously, and the safety of her charge was paramount. The large brow of the musclebound maiden knitted in thought as she considered, then she eyed Gavarus. “I call this in to Ensign Gonadie, she’ll back it up, right?”

Smiling, perhaps a smidge too broadly, Gavarus nodded. "Oh, absolutely. She can... she's..." As the anxiety-riddled Tellarite struggled to come up with the next lie, she felt herself go flush and feel slightly nauseated, lying to Jablonski.

Noticing her deteriorating condition, the extremely accomplished, former professional liar stepped in with a positively maternal tone. "Ensign Gavarus... Briaar... are you sure you're alright? You seem flush again."

Having met Jablonski while the officer had guarded her quarters a few times, Jaeih took advantage of that casual familiarity and whispered to the security officer. "She's been pushing herself hard, dear. Perhaps too hard with her still recovering condition. I was assisting in the lab on a cloak test and... well... wanted to help. Ensign Gonadie is in the ship's chapel at the moment. She's been keeping a prayer vigil to her Moon Goddess every few hours since the Lieutenant left. Newlyweds, and all that. But... Briaar, perhaps we should finish up and head back before you wear yourself out too much again?"

Then, the Romulan woman put one hand stealthily on Gavarus's back and gave a gentle push while using the other to try and support her, letting out a light shout. "Briaar!"

Finally picking up on the cue, Gavarus allowed herself to stumble forward, feigning faintness, into Jablonski's arms.

On cue, the gentle giantess caught the tubby Tellarite easily, cradling her in her burly arms. “Whoah-ho-ho dere! Eeeeasy now… you want I should call medical for ya?” Even distracted, Jablonski’s gaze still shot about, marking the position of the mech, its proximity to her charge, and where everyone in the tableau was at the moment. While she could be distracted, Big Ethel was nothing if not vigilant. But the Silver Banshee stayed put precisely where she was, and Jablonski stayed focused on the none-too-little-piggie who had nearly fainted on her.

Righting herself as quickly as possible was no easy feat as Gavarus was tempted to swoon for real in those arms, but realized she couldn't fake being TOO sick. "No... No, I think I'm okay. Thanks. It... It's just like when we exercise. Pushed myself a bit too hard and got light-headed. Really. I..."


As she spoke, she had a brain fart. "I think I just need to catch my breath a few minutes. Uh... Fiona, Jaeih... The test only requires a quick walk back and forth and then we can finish up in the lab. Do... Do you think you can do that real quick while I wait here with... uh..."

Summoning literally every ounce of courage she had left, Gavarus gulped and looked up at the object of her desire with a plaintiff expression, her best impression of O'Dell's patented puppy dog eyes. "They'll be right back. Do... Do you think you could wait with me a minute, uh... Ethel?"

“Uh, yeah, sure Gavarus,” the towering titan replied, hefting the heavy hog woman and toting her back to the doorway with seemingly as much effort as Gavarus put into picking up the minuscule O’Dell. As long as you don’t mind waiting here- I cannot abandon my post, after all.” In point of fact, only the fact that the honor guards worked in pairs had allowed her this much leeway, But while the safety of the crew was high priority to her, the dutiful guardian’s charge was her first and primary consideration,

After all, when one guarded a goddess, one could never be too careful.

“Alreet Gavarus- ye catch yuir breath and we’ll finish the lap, and if ye canna make it back to the flight deck, be sure to post a report to Chief Gonadie, aye?” the chirpy and cheerful mech instructed as it strode by, O’Dell’s voice ringing out clearly as the surprisingly soft footfalls thumped down the corridor, with Mrs. Dox at the fore.

Once she was sure that they had cleared from view, Jaeih began walking at a much quicker pace until she arrived at the quarters shared by her daughter and Mona. The mech could not keep up and keep its footfalls silent, so O'Dell engaged the antigravity thrusters to reduce the mech to 1/6th gravity, and bounded after the Intel agent on a mission.

"I cannot believe that worked." Entering her entry code, the door wooshed open as Jaeih Dox turned towards the waiting banshee, which was already in the act of transforming into a compact starship in order to fit through the doorway. Cranking up the inertial dampeners in the cockpit, O'Dell swung the ship on a few vectors, but there was just no way to fit through the narrow doorway of the quarters.

Looking around the colorfully appointed quarters, there was a decided lack of rolling chairs to be found and the bedroom was far too far to try and carry Mona herself from the doorway. For while the R&D chief might have been considered skinny for a Miradonian, she was still a very meaty bird.

And for once, Jaeih Dox was out of ideas. "This is not ideal... Maybe I can drag the couch over and..."

"I'm nae licked yet," O'Dell muttered as she slid the experimental craft into walker mode, then with the inertial dampeners holding Mona Gonadie in the pilot's couch, the starcraft assumed it's robot form, which was far sleeker and more sophisticated than it's predecessor. Scooting the legs in first, the lithe and nimble O'Dell managed to wriggle the mech through with only two minor paint scrapes, but no structural damage to the doorway.

"Woman's a bluiddy genius," O'Dell remarked as she slid the variable fighter to its walker mode, wound down the inertial dampeners and popped the cockpit. All to display one Mona Gonadie, safe and sound and sleeping like a babe.

"You are not without your own skills, little one. I see why my daughter speaks highly of your ability." Jaeih whispered to herself in her native Rihan, forgetting about the universal translators in the Banshee's cockpit.

Back in the R&D department, O'Dell's eyes opened wide in surprise at the unexpected praise from the severe woman, and by proxy from her feared superior. But in her usual style, she brushed it off. "Ah, 'tis sweet of ye to say mum. I do me best."

Blushing slightly green, the elder Dox was embarrassed to realize her compliment was both heard and understood thanks to the sensitive audio receptors of the Banshee, but she otherwise didn't betray her emotions to the genuinely impressive test pilot.

Looking around the mechanoid took in the shared quarters and the nosecone bobbed up and down a bit. "Wow, vurrah spacious digs. Bein' a senior officer really pays off, I see..."

Moving quickly but delicately, the pair worked together to gently lift the lightly snoring inventor out of the cockpit and place her, using massive hands gloved with impact dampening force fields for just such a maneuver, into the large nest shaped bed just inside the bedroom door. Just close enough for the banshee to reach in.

For just a moment, the unlikely pair peered at the softly snoring Miradonian R&D chief as she gently trilled with each breath. Delicately, Jaeih pulled the rainbow-hued blanket up and tucked Mona in lovingly before stepping out into the main Chamber. "We can't have you beam that back, anymore. We need to double back and retrieve Ensign Gavarus before she says something incriminating. She seemed exceedingly flustered around Miss Jablonski, I noticed."

"Oh aye," the variable mode fighter nodded, the nosecone bobbing as she did so. "Big Ethel's kinda her dream gal, so she's a bit googly around her. The big girl's sweet and I dinna think she'll hurt Briaar's feelins none, so she's probably safe for the moment. But aye, we should go rescue her. And nae big deal if we have to walk 'er back. Necessity is the mother of improvisational invention, as me old flight chief used ta say. I'd offer ye a ride but we hafta maintain, aye?"

With that said, the mechanoid transformed into the full robot mode, whereupon the pilot caught the reflection in a mirror Mona had placed on one wall, and in a surprisingly feminine display of body language, O'Dell checked 'herself' out in the reflection, turning this way and that to take in the sight of the robot mode mecha.

"Sleek, stylish... oh this is right nice, aye? Chief really outdid herself this time. Least so long as I dinna sprout an aneurysm or somethin." The pipsqueak pilot made the joke as if it weren't a distinct possibility with the untested craft, yet it was merely in passing- clearly she had no worries that was the case, her confidence in Gonadie's genius quite unshakable. "Alreet mum, if ye'll clear the corridor fuir me I can wriggle me shiny metal arse back oota here..."

As instructed, Jaeih stepped out into the corridor, which was clear of passerbys. Giving a silent nod to O'Dell, the elder Dox stepped clear as the Banshee repeated it’s unusually but remarkably effective wiggling dance to work its way through the narrow doorway of the spacious senior crew quarters, and out into the corridor again.

Immediately folding back into its more compact walker mode, the nosecone nodded back at Jaeih and shot her two thumbs up at the successful maneuver as the duo began to walk back to where they left Gavarus. As they rounded the circular corridor, the pair of gold-clad women came into view. The tubby Tellarite was standing in the middle of the corridor with her arms spread wide, a nervous expression on her fat face as Jablonski was showing her breathing exercises.

"Hey, there they are!" Gavarus shouted just a bit too loudly through nervously gritted teeth. "Ensign O'Dell... Mrs. Dox... how did the... test... go? Are we good?"

“Aye, she’s even more compact and maneuverable, as well as surprisingly light-footed,” the mech proceeded to hop a foot off the deck, moving the exhaust vent ‘feet’ into pirouette points that opened and closed rapidly while the mech took a cartoonishly long hang time, then settled soundlessly back to the deck after it’s twinkletoes routine. “The Silver banshee’s passin' every test wi’ flyin colors. Let’s get back to the lab so’s we kin check the joint tolerances for the Chief, aye?”

"And, of course, I can only RECORD the data for you, Ensign Gavarus. Your own skills will be required to interpret it." Jaeih said, waving a PaDD about and doing her level best to seem semi-incompetent to sell the story.

Turning to the mammoth security officer, Gavarus chuckled nervously, running a thick, three-fingered hand through her tangled mess of platinum blonde frizz. "Excellent. Uh... thanks again... Um... Ethel. Yeah. Uh. The doc says I'll be cleared to come back to the gym again in another week. And... Uh... See you later. And thanks again."

“Aw, you’re welcome. Glack I could help, doncha know. Hey, follow the doc’s orders, but you know they are probably going to tell you to ambulate. So you could still come to the gym to walk a few miles and build up to a run, eh? But y’know, listen to your body too,” Jablonski, ever the gym den mother, was always ready to encourage others to get in shape.

Awkwardly mimicking O'Dell's trademark 'gun fingers', the tubby Tellarite started walking backwards, following the other two back to the turbolift. Once they were out of earshot, she went flush white again from stress. "Oh my gods, I can't believe we did it. Everything's okay?"

The turbolift doors opened again and the lift was blissfully empty as the transforming tango happened yet again and all three squeezed in, this time with O'Dell choosing to use the full robot form used to gain access to Mona's room.

“This here’s dead sexy, it is,” O’Dell declared, as the turbolift doors opened and she managed to worm her way out of the lift, whose door was wider and taller than those of the officer’s quarters she had previously wriggled through. Standing in the corridor of Deck 3, O’Dell struck a pin-up pose in the mech. “S’dead sexy, ennit? She makes the old Thunderchicken look like the ugly stepsister, aye?”

As they all stood in the corridor making their way much more casually to the R&D Department, Gavarus chuckled lightly at O'Dell's humorous little posedown, but looked blank-faced otherwise. "Huh. Yeah. It's great."

Noticing the pale, almost shocked expression, Jaeih raised an eyebrow as they arrived back in the R&D bay where the misadventure had begun, unexpectedly successful in their mission. "Pending that I can convince Ensign Gonadie to sign off on this little farce, which hopefully should be straightforward enough, it appears we are successful. So why do you look like someone just stepped on your grave, Miss Gavarus?"

“Aye, she’s got a point. Ye look like someone whacked ye in the head with structural beam… are ye alreet, Gavarus?” The robotic mechanoid slid smoothly down to the walker mode, closer to Gavarus in height, and gently put a hand on the Tellarite’s shoulder. “Did that girl say something mean to ye? Do I need ta go back and rough her oop?” The mech stepped back, raised its fists and rolled its hands in a classic ‘fisticuffs’ boxing style. With terrible form, Jaeih noted- it was clear to her that while a remarkable and unusual pilot, O'Dell was obviously an untrained fighter.

"What? No... No... She..." Gavarus snapped out of her daze and even more words began falling out of her. "Holy SHIT, Fee!!! I just... I was so nervous we'd get caught so I just kept talking... and she said YES!!!"

"FEE!!!" Gavarus grabbed the nosecone of the banshee in spite of the real O'Dell being in the simulator only a few feet away and shook it. "FEE!!! I... I ASKED HER OUT AND SHE FRICKIN' SAID YES!!!!"

There was silence from the mech for a few seconds, as it stood as if frozen. Then the speakers began blaring forth the middle of the chorus of some song from maybe a thousand years ago that only Fiona would know.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=35&v=ORifieiZiP4

The walker mech swung it's arm about as it do-si-do'd with first Gavarus, then the reserved Mrs. Doc, swinging back around to swing around Gavarus once more. Then the oddly-shaped mechanoid picked her up and tossed the ecstatic engineer up in the air, only to catch her in the palms of the mech's forcefield covered hands. Holding the space swine up to the cockpit in one hand, the other hand pumped enthusiastically.

"That's bluiddy spectacular! Ye know what this means, aye?" the variable fighter exclaimed, as O'Dell hadn't bothered to exit the simulator, instead continuing to act and express herself through the drone mecha.

"Oh my gods... Fee! I'm gonna... I'm gonna be sick!" Gavarus horked slightly in her mouth and looked about as green as the Romulan woman beside the two as the nearly 170 kilogram Tellarite still recovering from surgery was not ready to be tossed about like a child. Though even as she protested, it was through a smile and a laugh. "What? What does it mean?"

"Wahl, I thought it meant time to nip oot to the pub," O'Dell muttered as she turned down the music, then set her porcine pal back onto her dainty hooves.

"Oh, hells yeah! I've still got me a prescription for beer that needs filling!" Gavarus was finally letting the excitement of the moment out, the tension released by O'Dell's joyous dancing. Then the temperamental Tellarite turned to the stern-faced Romulan woman who was adjusting her uniform top like a flustered grade school teacher.

"What about you, Granny-to-be? Wanna get drunk?" Gavarus asked with a light smirk.

"I shall leave you two to your revelry. I should go and make sure Mona is sleeping comfortably." Jaeih replied with a raised eyebrow, shocked that she had gone along with the insanity of the evening. "But by all means, go celebrate."

And without another word, the elder Dox nodded and began walking to the door.

"Ach, Lady Dox?" the anthropomorphic drone mech called out.

Stopping at the doorway, Jaeih turned her head back towards the Silver Banshee as she raised that single eyebrow of hers. "Yes?"

Extending the arm of the mech with a thumbs-up, an often universal symbol for positivity. "Thanks fuir helpin us wi' the Chief. We couldna left her to sleep it off in the couch in here, and we appreciate ye helpin us to look after her, aye? Yuir alreet wi' us, Jaeih Dox." With that, the mech froze in that exaggerated thumbs-up pose as O'Dell began disengaging from the simulator.

"You are, the both of you, impetuous, immature, brash, foolhardy, and stubborn to a fault. You are both also clever, improvisational, intuitive, courageous, and highly skilled at what you do. And you both didn't hesitate to risk your own careers to simply safeguard my Daughter-in-law's dignity."

Pausing, Jaeih looked from the Banshee to Gavarus than over to O'Dell herself as she stepped out of the simulator, and offered the pair a respectful nod. "Jolan'tru." She said last as she turned and walked out of the room before the pair could reply.

"Joe Lawn True?" Gavarus knitted her eyebrows as she watched the doors to the Bay woosh shut again. "Aa long as that ain't some weird Romulan magic curse, I guess it's a good thing, right?"

"Beatsa shite outta me, Gavarus, me old bean," O'Dell shrugged her narrow shoulders, then stepped in front of the tall Tellarite so she could be seen as she spoke. "C'mon- our boss is sleepin' off a bender, we did some remarkable testing of her prototype wi' all sortsa data and metrics collected on a kinda sorta mission I'm reeeeeasonably sure she'll nae court-martial us for. So, I see no reason why we shouldnae be knocked off and tipping back a pint over yuir actually asking a girl out on a date. And wi'oot me help n'less!"

"THAT sounds like a plan and a half, Fee!" Gavarus replied with a smile as she stepped over to the control console. Plugging her PaDD into the data interface, she downloaded all the collected data into the system and quickly ran through the proper shutdown and lockdown sequences for the evening. As she did, the Banshee resumed its neutral, ready posture on its station and fully powered down.

Gavarus wasn't usually this through, but with their problems of late, she was taking zero chances in spite of her excitement. as she finished, she let out a long, cartoonishly exaggerated sigh. "I have no idea how I did it, Fee. I was just talking... trying to keep her from thinking about what was going on... an the words just... FELL out!"

"I'm not sure I even remember what all I said." Gavarus admitted as she stepped back over to her partner-in-crime, Fiona O'Dell and gave her a playful whack on the shoulder. "So, yeah. Let's get ourselves shitfaced and forget about all this professionally."

"Aye, now yuir talkin!" O'Dell agreed as she fell in beside her drinking buddy, to go be irresponsible and irreveverant… as always.

Standing in the modestly sized kitchenette, Jaeih Dox was absolutely out of her element. The older Romulan woman was many things: a smuggler, a cloaking engineer, a former Tal'Shiar agent, a prisoner twice over, and a skilled Intelligence Operative. But one thing she was not... was a cook.

With a PaDD propped up on the counter in front of her, she struggled with a bowl of eggs that she was attempting to whip to the proper consistency. The kitchenette in question was in the quarters of her daughter, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox and her daughter's new bride, Ensign Mona Gonadie, who was sleeping soundly in the bedroom.

The night before had been a remarkable comedy of errors as Jaeih, Ensign Fiona O'Dell and Ensign Briaar Gavarus had conspired to safely and covertly return the exhausted Mona to her quarters using the experimental Variable Mode Mech known as the Silver Banshee. It had been discovered and known only to the three and Mona herself, that the newlywed Miradonian R&D Chief was pregnant and, after falling asleep while testing the neural link in the Banshee, Mona was exhausted beyond compare.

So Mona slept, having been secretly carried in the cockpit of the remotely piloted walking starfighter and gently deposited in her own bed. And Jaeih, who had chosen to go along with the farcical plan, wanted to make sure her new daughter-in-law's morning was as pleasant as possible. Hence, the attempt at breakfast.

She had considered simply using the replicator once Mona had awoken, but thought that the smell of cooking food might be the single most positive way to wake someone up. So, on the small stovetop was two cast iron skillets. One cooking up a large slab of bacon and the other about to receive a large bowl full of eggs to be scrambled. She had never known Mona to eat meat, but when she found Mona asleep the day prior at work, she was face down in a breakfast of eggs AND bacon, and made the leap hoping she was not wrong.

Quickly, she mimicked the movements on the PaDD as she turned the quickly cooking eggs in the skillet as the smell of both wafted gently to the bedroom where Mona had been sleeping, deposited there gently and tucked in, still in her uniform.

Which was the best way to wake up for a Miradonian - the scent of breakfast cooking was almost intoxicating for them and Mona was no different. As she woke up and wondered how she got home and why she was still in her uniform, it was almost an afterthought to what was cooking and who was cooking it. Heading to the refresher to relieve herself and wash up as quick as she could, she wasted no time heading to the kitchenette to investigate.

Mona took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of eggs and bacon and taking in the sight of her mother-in-law awkwardly trying to cook as she grabbed some garlic pepper and sprinkled a little on the eggs, taking over for Jaeih. "Morning. I take it I have you to thank for getting me home?" Once the eggs were almost done, she grabbed out her jar of roasted peppers and tossed a few in with the eggs as well, stirring them in.

Stepping away to let the clearly superior chef go to work, Jaeih raised her hands in mock surrender. "Good morning. I'm glad to see you up and about."

"As for getting you here..." The elder Romulan's tone became almost anxious, "I cannot take full credit. Ensign's Gavarus and O'Dell... certainly played a part. Which, I suppose will merit an... explanation."

"Ah..." Mona finished up the eggs and served them up on two plates along with the rashers of bacon and popped open a jar of preserved peaches, adding a few large chunks of each of them as well. "Toast... Do I want to hear this explanation? Knowing them it's going to be a bit crazy." Pulling out a fresh loaf of bread and her bread knife, she activated the energized blade and sliced off a few pieces of it for both of them, making sure to stow the self toasting bread knife securely when she was done.

"And what do you want to drink?" Mona asked as she carried both full plates to the dining table.

"Just a coffee, please. Black." Jaeih nodded as she took a moment to collect her thoughts. And once both women had sat down with their breakfasts, the Miradonian's new Mother-in-law repeated, in detail, the events of the night before. Of O'Dell's powerful insistence that they do whatever was possible to protect her chiefs dignity. Of the incredible control it's tiny pilot exhibited over the mechanism. Of O'Dell's slip that revealed Mona's pregnancy, but only to Jaeih. And of the need for Mona to sign off on the affair after the fact lest security begin looking deeper into the incident that could adversely harm the careers of the two well-meaning Ensigns who simply wanted to help their superior.

As Jaeih related the tale to her, Mona was silent and listened intently, eating her breakfast as she did so. "Well, if they collected a lot of good test data, I have no objections. Besides, I'm no worse for wear and it seems Gavarus has a date now, though I figured the two of them would... Ah nevermind. Maybe I'm seeing things in their relationship."

Taking a bite of her meal, a bit slower than Mona, Jaeih smirked and chuckled. "Well, I had just met them and thought they bickered like an old married couple, so you can be forgiven for that observation."

So her coffee, the relieved Romulan matron continued. "And they were quite excited by the data collected in spite of the insanity they... well I suppose I should say we were courting."

"They're unusual and a bit odd, but they know their jobs well and are brilliant in their own fields. That's why they're here and working under me, after all." Mona sipped at her latte as she sat back in her chair, relaxing and taking a break in the middle of her breakfast. "So three chicks. That's better than we had hoped."

"Three? I simply knew you were officially expecting, not the number." Jaeih was noticeably surprised by the news. "I suppose congratulations are in order. How are you feeling so far?"

"Still a bit tired and hungry. Nervous, happy, relieved... In a month I'll start molting. They expect the chicks to take longer - closer to nine months since they're a mix, so I'm going to get pretty big. I expect the constant thrumming will get to me at some point. Lots more planning of course." Mona sighed and dug into the rest of her breakfast. "I just hope my Minay gets home soon."

"Well, nine months is short for Romulan children. I carried Mnhei'sahe for..." Jaeih thought for a moment, roll her eyes. "Thirteen months. Longer than not. Thirteen very long months. Though I'm sure she will return before too long. The time ripples have abated and reality is quite intact, so that means they succeeded in their mission. She will not be away from you for long. I... don't think she could anymore."

The statement was said with a warm smile. After such a hard life that she herself was largely responsible, it gave Jaeih an incredible comfort to see her daughter as happy as she was with Mona.

"That's true," Mona replied, closing her eyes and smiling softly. "I can at least feel her energies again. She exists in this time. I don't know where or how she's doing, but she exists and that's all the comfort I need right now."

Raising an eyebrow quizzically, Jaeih titled her head. "Wait, you can feel her... right now? Through your... that bond you described? I... I don't understand. How is that possible?"

"Because she's alive," Mona replied as if it were a simple statement of fact. "We're a part of each other. The part of her within me, no matter where she is in the universe, will live on inside of me as long as she's in this universe. I don't think she feels the bond quite the same way - I think she has to actively feel it. But a piece of me lives inside of her the same way. And no, we can't talk to each other telepathically unless we're touching."

The natural investigator, Jaeih was legitimately fascinated. "Remarkable. You'll have to forgive my curiosity. Our people once possessed enhanced mental abilities like the Vulcans, and I know Mnhei'sahe has been training with Mr. Sonak to try and restore those abilities in her, but I had no idea your bond was so... advanced."

Taking a sip of her coffee, Jaeih continued. "Is... what you're describing what that holographic display of colored lights was meant to represent at the bonding ceremony?"

Eyeing her mother in law over her mug, Mona had a bit of a smug look as she sipped her latte. "That... was in no way holographic. That was our bond made visible to everyone by the Moon Goddess herself. It's rare that it's visible like that - maybe one in a million ceremonies. The projector was just for the twin moons behind the Captain so we could align everything with the ceremonial timing on my homeworld in order to honor the Moon Goddess and the Trickster. Even if it was holographic, how would we have described how we feel the bond so vividly in such a moment and in what coloration... Before it even happened?"

Taken aback slightly, Jaeih was legitimately surprised as she absorbed the new information. That the magnificent swirlings of blue and red light that radiated from Mona and Mnhei'sahe respectively, merged into a brilliant lavender aura that orbited the couple before being pulled back into the two, was real shocked the cynical Romulan. In spite of her lifetime of intelligence experience, her view of the Galaxy had been, until joining the Hera, much less... cosmic.

Then she thought of Mona's last comment. "Telepathic? Is that why you too always just sit and give each other... significant looks, smiles and seemingly random chuckles at dinner? What, are you playing footsie under the table to touch?"

"And why my foster parents talk as if they were one person, yes," Mona confirmed, before finishing up her breakfast. "And how Miradonian chicks tend to be born with a basic understanding of language, even if they can't speak yet. Oh, and they purr and squawk. I'm told that that's not the norm for most races."

Chuckling, Jaeih thought of Mona's exuberant, rotund foster parents that did, in fact, tend to speak in one unbroken sentence between the two of them, wondering if that would one day be her daughter and Mona. "So... the children will be a part of this bond, then? You'll be connecting with them while pregnant? Communicating? Will that extend to Mnhei'sahe as well when you touch?

The brightly plumed Miradonian nodded as she finished off her latte. "It should. Most mixed-race couples, the bond isn't that strong, but my Minay is particularly strong so she should be able to hear them about the same time I do."

Pausing for a moment, the elder Dox thought about what Mona had said. "She's... Mnhei'sahe has never told me exactly what happened. I know much of it is classified, but .. that strength you speak of. Even ancient Romulans didn't experience that level of connection that you describe. What happened?"

Mona pursed her lips and reached for a PaDD. "I shouldn't tell you any of this... But its partly my fault... I invented a neural link interface so someone could literally see what the ship sees in the same spectrums a Miradonian does. We needed it for a mission and she was the pilot. It... Well, it threw the mental gates to every single mental ability in her mind wide open and made her an open wading pool for a being called Anansi, a spider god that steals stories that wanted the helmet. He unlocked her memories... Gave her nightmares..."

She paused for a moment, letting a holographic diagram of the helmet in question hover over the dining table. "And because of the open nature of her mind, allowed her to lead a group mind-meld with Gaia and convince her not to terraform every planet between Romulus and Trill in her image. In return, Gaia closed the gates in her mind, letting her relearn those skills in a more natural manner without literally sucking anyone in that took a peep into her brainspace."

Processing the largely new information Mona had just provided, Jaeih was stunned to learn all that had happened to her daughter. "By Al'thindor... I... I knew. The things that she has seen. Been through in so little time here. Forgive me, Mona. It's... much to learn, you understand. And to think I was shocked to learn that she had allowed herself to be beamed into open space."

"But..." The anxious Mother took a breath and closed her eyes for a moment. "She has you. And a career she loves. And purpose for the first time in her life. And now a family of her own on the way. I... That is all good. It... I hope it balances the horrors. She seems..."

Looking deep into her Daughter-in-law's jewel-like Amber eyes, Jaeih had an almost pained look in her own, distant black eyes. "But... she is happy here, isn't she? Finally... happy."

"We do our best to make enough happy to outweigh the unhappy," Mona replied with that wide grin of hers. "And hey! You're going to be a grandma of three soon! And you found out before she did! I know that has got to make you happy."

Allowing a smile the crack her own face slightly, the Elder Dox sighed slightly. "Six months ago, I doubted that I would ever speak to Mnhei'sahe again. Now I am..."

Pausing slightly, Jaeih's tone dipped slightly. "I am very happy for you both. I have... no expectations of any role in this."

Mona just laughed that bright, cheerful laugh of hers that dissolves any negativity in a room. "Nonsense! You're going to be a grandma! Your role is to interfere and spoil these chicks rotten and I wouldn't have it any other way!"

"This... bond. This connection you have with Mnhei'sahe. You've shared thoughts... dreams... memories. How many of those featured me as a good mother?" Jaeih sipped her mostly empty cup, not making eye contact. "I... would not be... good for them."

"I also know who you are now. I know the efforts you've been making to try and mend that relationship. Every day, you're more the mother she needs and the grandmother our chicks will need." Mona got up and came around the table, taking Jaeih's hands into her own. She looked pleadingly into the elder Dox's eyes and tried to reach out to her through the bond she shared with her Minay, just hoping she could get through to her. "Whomever you were in the past, it doesn't really matter anymore. I know you're a good person now. I've seen it and I've felt it. With my own senses and with my Minay's."

But whatever gifts her daughter possessed did not extend to Jaeih. She felt only Mona's hands holding her own. She felt physical warmth and the slight vibration of the Miradonian's trilling, but nothing of the bond Mnhei'sahe had described. But she could tell her Daughter-in-law was trying and she smiled in spite of herself.

"I hope you are correct, my dear. But... I'm afraid." Jaeih admitted, looking down and away from those deep, pleading eyes. "I am not a good woman. I can't simply pretend I've not done... horrible things. I broke her bones and scarred her soul. I lied to her over and over again. I don't deserve your compassion. I don't deserve her love. I don't deserve the products of her love."

Mona leaned in so that their noses were barely touching. "And if we offer it freely? Because that's what family does? Live, forgive, and move on together as one? Would you deny us unconditionally loving you because of your selfish self-recriminations?"

Closing her eyes for a moment, Jaeih let out a slight sigh. "I can see you will be... an exceptional mother, my dear."

Finally, the elder Romulan raised her gaze to meet Mona's deep, Amber eyes and she smiled slightly and chuckled. "You wield guilt like a master artist when you need to. They will be powerless before you. Which... I suppose... leaves me no choice but to assume the role of the subversive grandmother and undermine your authority with excess?"

"As per tradition," replied the brightly plumed Miradonian, planting a small kiss on the Romulan's nose before setting about clearing the table. "Besides, with three chicks and being senior officers, we'll need all the help we can get."

Standing up, Jaeih took her own plate and her mug before Mona could collect them with a smile and a nod. "Very well, then. You give me no choice than to accept my new duties. You cooked, I shall clean."

"You still don't get it, do you?" the colorful aviatrix asked with a mischievous look. "We cooked together, so we clean together... As family."

Officially, the U.S.S. Hera's R&D Department was shut down for the day. It's chief, Ensign Mona Gonadie had left for the day and all was well.

It had been a full day since the bizarre incident in which the departments two most notorious members, Ensign's Briaar Gavarus and FIona O'Dell, had miraculously pulled off the near-impossible feat of successfully using the brand new Variable Mode Fighter known as the Silver Banshee to transport the sleeping Mona Gonadie from there to her quarters. Mona had been the victim of overwork and intense neural strain caused by the Banshee's mental interface and couldn't be roused without a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. And the unconventional team pooled their skills, along with those of Intel operative Jaeih Dox, to put Mona to bed with nobody learning about her taxing herself to that point.

And without anybody else learning she was newly pregnant before the new mom was ready to tell them.

The morning after the incident, O'Dell and Gavarus were justifiably terrified that they would be up on charges for taking the Mech without permission and taking it for a stroll through the ship's corridors. But in short order, as Chief Gonadie had returned to work, looking much better rested, they found the false testing order they had created had been verified and signed off on my the Ensign and. And with a simple comment of "Good work with those maneuverability tests yesterday, Ladies." and a sly grin, they knew that they had gotten away with it with Mona's approval.

Which now left the pair with a new challenge. During their clandestine stroll through the corridors, they were stopped and questioned by Petty Officer Ethel Jablonski. The massive wall of muscle that Gavarus had been drooling over for months. And in her panic over covering what they were up to, Gavarus inadvertently worked up the nerve to finally ask the Amazonian security guard on a date. And to her shock, Ethel had accepted.

As such, the pair were hard at work reworking the department's holographic flight simulator rig for an even more clandestine plan.

Standing at the console, still in her gold Engineering uniform, Briaar Gavarus was an absolute wreck. "Tonight! Fee! I'm meeting her in Ten-Forward for dinner TONIGHT!!! And this is never gonna work!!!"

“Calm your teats, ye scurrilious swine,” O’Dell reassured with a bit of teasing. “This is how me brother Donalbain hooked up wi’ his second wife. She learned to put up with his tendency to stick his foot in his mouth, since we owned up to what we did later, when she wondered why he was nae s’romantic or smooth after the first date. It’ll work! All ye hafta do is run the signal to a PaDD- I dinna need the holographics, and that might get us in dutch wi’ the chief. Ye wear the earpiece, ye wear the contacts, I kin see what ye see and hear what yuir sayin, and I kin steer ye straight an’ true, aye?”

“Ye dinna hafta be a superspy for this to work. Now, let’s get this set oop and run through the Padd so’s we kin get this show on the road. Ye g’win ta wear yuir uniform?” O’Dell, to her credit, did not ask as if it were a bad thing, but instead, it was a simple question.

None of which stopped the temperamental Tellarite from freaking out. "Shit... Yeah, no. That would be totally lame, wouldn't it? Or would 'professional' be better? It's not like there's any outfit I'm gonna look good in. I can't believe I said anything. I'm gonna make a fool of myself."

As she rambled, she looked down at the PaDD in front of her and paused for a second. "DOUBLE SHIT! Right. The PaDD." Picking it up, the skilled engineer at least knew what she was doing with that part of the plan and quickly synced it up with the feed from the contacts and the earpiece as instructed.

"GYAAGH! That's frickin' weird." Gavarus exclaimed, looking into a PaDD showing exactly what she was looking at. Which was, of course, the PaDD itself, repeating on itself into infinity. "Here. So... Should I wear something else? I've got time to change and a replicator budget? Or is the uniform better?"

The Porcine engineer sniffed her own armpit as she spoke, nodding slightly in mild, if unenthusiastic, approval.

“Waaaahhhl, that’s up to ye. Wearin’ the uniform reinforces yuir similarities- ye’re both in gold, ye’re both Starfleet. Buuuut it also leaves yuir rank on the chest. Not that Jablonski seems to give much cause to that- she treats us like she does the gals in her department, and no different because we’re officers. On the other hand, that’s always when we’re in the gym, and in workout gear. So,” O’Dell held up a finger to the tense tinkerer. “The real choice is, do ye want to keep it a bit professional, or do ye want her to get a better idea of who ye are oot’a uniform?"

Adjusting one of the two contact lenses slightly, Gavarus sighed. "I think she already knows more about who I really am than is good. But I don't want to come off as stiff either. M... Maybe just a nice blouse? Something black? Simple?"

"Will that make ye feel comfortable?" O'Dell asked directly. "Maaybe a V-neck, somethin' stretchy and casual but still nice? Short sleeves says casual, long sleeves says elegant."

"Yeah. Elegant, but still relaxed. Yeah, okay. Hold on. Let me... I'll be right back." Gavarus ran nervously over to the control console and grabbed a new PaDD and started typing and scrolling frantically. After a minute, she handed the PaDD to O'Dell with a picture of a baggy, frumpy, high necked black top that.could best be described as a rucksack with a person in it.

"W... w... what do you think of that?"

"I think... Computer, scan Ensign Gavarus for tailoring, aye? Easy done," O'Dell kept talking over the computer's acknowledgement. "Noow let's give 'er the frock she has here, aye? Reet, there we go." Holographic projectors all over the starsjhhip enabled this sort of thing, so why not use it for noble purposes, though O'Dell. "Alreet now, Let's make it oota somethin stretchy, but a sturdy material, say thickness of half a millimeter. That boat material heavy spandex blend."

The garment changed, and as it now had weight and was more susceptible to gravity. "Aye, let's tailor it. Conform it to her dimensions, give it up one size, and leave the sleevews loose, jest a tetch more than our uniform sleeves. Ach, and make 'em a bit longer too, come down to the tumb joint here. Aye, noow we're gettin somewhere. Alreet, howbout this V-neck. Can we bring it doown... aboot here?"

The virtual seamstress dictated, and the top was cut to show a hint of cleavage. "Noow open the neckline up a bit... aye, wider about the neck, reet... good. Alreet, give 'er a mirror Computer and let's see what we got for Pigarella so far tonight."

Looking in the mirror, Gavarus was taken slightly aback by the holographic top. It was probably the best she had ever looked and, as with everything, it was thanks to Fiona O'Dell. As she thought about that, her stomachs tightened slightly though she didn't know why, chalking it up to nerves.

"Fee... I think this... This actually kinda... This looks pretty good, I think." The touched Tellarite was feeling emotional as she turned around to look at the top frpm different angles. "I think... Have this replicated and... I don't think I'm getting any reddier."

“Pshaw, I’m nae done with ye yet. Computer, extend this top into a tulip skirt, knee-length.” The computer complied, and the skirt clung to Briaar’s hips and rear, then flowed down gracefully from there, giving her figure a surprisingly feminine flair. “Ay, there we go. Not, a pair of anklets, something in copper’ll bring yuir skine tone’s warmth out, and maybe a 1 MM chain on each. Match it with a bracelet on the, ahhh, left wrist.”

The computer complied, and sure enough, the anklets added a bit of visual interest to draw the eye to Gavarus’ dainty hooves, while the bracelet made it clear it was a fashion statement, not a bondage invitation.

“Now, let’s talk aboot yuir hair, aye?” Fiona indicated the frizzy blonde poof that perennially followed Gavarus around. “Ye g’win to wear it up in yuir ponytail or down and loose?”

Looking at herself in the mirror, Gavarus didn't know how to react. She trusted Fiona but her own self-loathing was telling her she looked ridiculous. But O'Dell hadn't steered her wrong yet and she wasn't about to question it. Biting her tongue proverbially, she let out a light sigh and tilted her head, resigning herself to her best friends ministrations. "What do you think?"

“I think yuir more comfortable with it oop, which is why ye allays wear it that way. And it’s how she’s used ta seein ye, so that’ll work best. Now, we’re g’win ta skip any jewelry or makeup or any of that somesuch, because that’s not you. So let’s see, what do we lack…ah!” Computer, give me a … black ribbon for her hair, about 8 MM wide, in a cute bow.” That materialized, and Fiona shook her head. “Nae, too frou frou fer you. Computer add a four leaf clover charm to the right anklet, 2 mm in size.” The computer complied, and O’Dell stepped back to admire her handiwork.

“There! I think that’s got ye ready fer yuir date wi’ that great mountain a muscle, and a leprechaun gave ye a four leaf clover for luck, so that ought to get ye lucky!” Grinning gleefully at Briaar’s reflection, O’Dell’s eyes suddenly narrowed as she caught the expression on the Tellarite’s face. “Hold on, what’s this? Is the dress too much? Is it makin’ ye uncomfortable? It’s okay, we can go back to the mumu agin if ye like, or yuir uniform…?”

Popped out of her moment of contemplation, Gavarus looked herself up and down. "Huh... No... No, this... This is good, right? I mean. I can't tell with myself. But, you think this makes me look... at least a little less... Me, right? Or, at least a better me, right?"

“Briaar,” O’Dell's eyebrows rose in the middle, and a frank smile settled onto her face. “Ye do look like you, and that’s a good thing. Jablonski already knows ye, so ye are nae meetin' her for the first time. This joost shows ye put a bit of effort into it, that ye’re excited aboot the date. Yuir not false advertising, and ye look wonderful! I wouldnae steer ye wrong, would I?”

The midget Mariposan beamed a smile up at her pal that she hoped would inspire confidence. “Besides, ye’ll have me in yuir ear ta feed ye lines and keep ye oota trouble, aye? Yuir g’win ta do great!”

The anxious Engineer smiled awkwardly, doing her best to quelch her flip flops stomachs and trust O'Dell. "Okay. Okay. Then... Let's do this, then!"

And with that the work began, replicating the holographic items the persistent pilot had picked out and putting the Porcine officer together. After a few minutes of tugging and pulling and a fair amount of cursing, the ensemble was complete for real now and Briaar Gavarus was ready for her first date with Ethel Jablonski.

Taking her position in the [wherever Odell will be], Gavarus took a massive breath and began heading to Ten-Forward for her impossible date. In the turbolift alone, Gavarus hoarsely cleared her throat. "Fee... Is the feed working? You can see and hear everything clear?"

Taking her position in the R&D lounge, O’Dell dropped her bony rear end into a chair, propped her feet up and made herself comfortable. Whereupon she offered her partner in crime a thumbs-up. Gavarus took a massive inhalation, then headed to Ten-Forward for her impossible date. In the turbolift alone, Gavarus hoarsely cleared her throat. "Fee... Is the feed working? You can see and hear everything clear?"

“Aye. Yuir breath is fine. You smell nice, you look nice, and this is g’win ta be fine. Cyrano de Broingloid’s on the job!” O’Dell crowed, although she was reasonably sure Gavarus wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “Besides, the big gal would nae have agreed to a date if she dinna want to be there with ye, aye? Right! So that means yuir already ahead a’ the game, y’ken?”

Stepping off of the turbolift onto deck ten, Gavarus took another deep breath, whispering as she walked slowly to the doors of Ten-Forward. "I asked her if she... If she wanted to get dinner sometime. What if she doesn't think of it as a date?"

Pausing at the doors, Gavarus tried to look in to the small windows to see if she was already there as they unexpectedly wooshed open as a crewmember walked past. Now standing awkwardly in the open doorway, she looked in with a nervous grin, whispering. "Fee... S.. s... She's here "

"Security gal showed up early fer a date, g'figure. What's she wearing?" asked the voice in the pig's ear.

What she was wearing was simple, yet striking. A simple toga, gathered at the shoulders and criss-crossing her breasts came back to wrap about her waist, which gave way to a surprisingly short skirt, with the tied off toga acting as a sash. The bronze bracers, adorned with engravings of the moon and the sun, covered her forearms and acted as an accent to the off white tunic and skirt. Her hair, usually worn up on duty, was down and falling in layers down her muscular back. Sitting at a table for two with a softly glowing candle, the mighty amazon looked as though she was expecting someone, even as she waved and chatted with passersby.

"She looks... Like a frickin'... goddess! Shit! Look at her. What am I doing here? I'm a frickin'..." Gavarus began rambling before freezing. "SHIT! She sees me."

"Aye, probably be cause she's lookin fer ye, cuz yer supposed to have a date. S'git oover there an' say hello, tell her she looks pretty and order a drink, but stretch out yuir buzz, ye dinna want to get drunk an' sloppy, aye?" The expert wingman was actually playing a thunder chicken video game Mona had improvised out of scanner data and a virtual environment. It was a bit addictive, Fiona was deciding, although she still had the Gavarus view in a window in window and her cochlear earpiece in.

"R... R... Right." Gavarus whispered through a gritted, broad smile she had plastered on her face as she walked stiffly towards the table. After a few seconds, she stopped in front of the table. "Uh... Hello. Tell you you look pretty! Uh... You look really... Hello."

Looking up, the broad-jawed amazon smiled, revealing her crooked buck teeth. "Hi Gavarus! Ohh, don't you look nice, hahn? Come on over and sit down... I got us a table, I hope that's okay?"

As Gavarus pulled out the seat, it made a thunking slide across the carpeted deckplates that, in the panicked porcine's mind, was the loudest sound ever. And returning the smile revealed a similar dental dilemma of wide teeth and a set of filed down tusks jutting slightly from her lower jaw. A smile she had only let Jablonski and O'Dell ever see.

Why are you thinking about Fee? You're on a date. Pay attention, Briaar! She thought to herself

"Uh... T... Thanks. We're not... Not on duty, so... Uh... Briaar is fine. Good. If that's okay with you." Gavarus nervously stuttered as she sat down.

"Oh yeah sher, of course! You can call me Ethel, then. The girls in the department started calling me 'Big Ethel' and it stuck, so that's good too. Or you can call me Jablonski if that's easier, or you know, whatever works for you, right?" The big Amazon was cheerful and generally lighthearted, which one wouldn't expect from a Security officer. Maybe it was easier to be easygoing if you were the biggest one on the block. Jablonski might actually be the biggest lifeform onboard the USS Hera, come to think of it.

"So, here we are! How about some dinner? I hate to be 'that girl', but I'm starving, so can we order first then make small talk?" As she spoke, the mighty maiden made contact with a server, who came right over. Jablonski served watch shifts in 10-Forward as well, so she was well known and liked here.

"Uh... yeah, sure." Gavarus replied as the server came over, it was one that had regularly learned to dread the appearances of Gavarus and O'Dell as they had a well-known habit of getting very drunk and very obnoxious very quickly and was nowhere near as well-liked there. But the two-meter tall Tellarite was usually never dressed that nicely and the server had to do a slightly subdued double-take upon realizing who he was waiting on. "Uh... Huh... May I take your orders, ladies?"

Looking sheepishly up at the young human male server, Gavarus muttered slightly. "Yeah. Um... Still... You can start with her... I'm... still thinking about what to eat. Uh... waiting for that little voice in my head to tell me what sounds good."

"No soup, because ye slurp. How aboot start with an appetizer, somethin wi' cheese because everybody likes... ah, chips and queso to split. Then get yuirself a sandwich or soomething? Ye canna really go wrong here," Fiona added with some encouragement. What's she orderin?"

Tuning back into the table, Jablonski was still ordering. "A dozen hardboiled eggs, a large Caesar salad with no croutons, with grilled chicken breast on top, a thousand gram blackened salmon steak, a large side of broccoli, 500 grams of sweet potatoes, 500 grams of peas, 500 pounds of mashed potatoes, a liter of water and an O'Dell's beer. Anything for you?"

"Uh..." Gavarus sat somewhat slack-jawed for a second at the amazing order that the mammoth security officer had just made. "Uh... chips and... uh... queso. Um... to split as a... as an appetizer. And... um... eggplant parmesan sandwich? Side of curly fries?"

"And a..." Gavarus desperately wanted to star drinking to take the edge off but had all but thrown up on Jablonski's shows the first time she tried talking to her and thought better of it. "An... iced tea?" As she ordered the unlikely beverage, she turned back to Jablonski and grinned awkwardly.

“Make it a pitcher of O’Doul's, two glasses,” Jablonski amended her order with a smile. The server nodded in acknowledgment and departed to take care of their orders. Then Jablonski looked a bit sheepish over her enormous food order. “Sorry, I kinda eat a lot… I mean, I always have, but these days I seem to always be building, so I’m always hungry. With that out of the way… so, tell me about yourself. Where are you from, what are your hobbies, what do you do for fun?”

Smiling a bit more relaxed, Gavarus shrugged and started talking more freely. "Well, you can see where it all goes. I mean, you put a lot of work into... yourself. It's really amazing that... uh... yeah."

“Thank you,” Jablonski smiled, that close-lipped smile that was more common for her, as she accepted the compliment graciously.

Realizing she was likely going to switch from being shut down to talking too much, the anxious engineer switched to Ethel's questions. "So... um... ME. Okay. Um. I'm from Tellar Prime. The, uh, Keron Provence. My folks are both politicians and that... that was NOT for me." Gavarus chuckled at the dramatic understatement.

"I've always liked fixing things. Taking things apart and figuring out how they work. It's just... it makes me feel like I know what I'm doing with at least something, ya' know?" Gavarus continued, trying her best to not ramble or clam up entirely. "I've been showing Fee... Fiona. Ensign O'Dell. I've been showing her how to repair the different systems on the ships she flies. She's really got a good head for it. Ya' know, when we're not in here getting in trouble."

“Oh, you two don’t get in that much trouble in here. Neither of you are that physically confrontational- well, Ensign O’Dell can be if she’s provoked, but she’s not much of a threat when she’s not in the Thunderchicken, doncha know. Or it’s running around without her? The report on that one was a little vague," Jablonski chuckled. “You two aren’t bad, just… confrontational drunks, is all. And it’s not uncommon in Starfleet- high-stress jobs often lead to a lot of off-duty drinking.”

As she spoke the waiter arrived with a serving of chips and queso that it seemed he had taken the initiative to supersize the order, and once that was on the table he poured a few glasses of beer from the pitcher, and served each of them a frosty mug of cold near-beer. Picking hers up, Big Ethel held out her glass for a toast. “Here’s to a nice evening, eh?”

Raising her own glass, Gavarus clinked it lightly against Jablonski with an awkward laugh. "Uh... Yeah. So far. Heh."

Taking a drink, Gavarus wished it were the real thing rather desperately as she sat there trying to think of something to say and too nervous to so much as eat a chip.

“Aw jeez, relax, willya? You’re getting laid, so just take it easy and enjoy the getting to know you part of the evening, why doncha?” Jablonski declared as she dipped a chip in the melted cheese.

Immediately, Gavarus all but shot the beer she was drinking out of her snout, only barely covering her face in time. "PPBBBBFFTT! W... What?!?"

In the R&D break room, O'Dell spritzed coffee at the same time. "Jatsis that's a bit for'd. ennit?"

The sizable Security sentinel chuckled at that. “Oh my gosh, sorry! I thought it might take some of the tension out if I just let you know this isn’t an audition or something. Sex is sex, it’s a healthy thing that consenting adults do. I’ve seen you look at me, you threw up on my shoes, and I kinda figured you were asking me out for a reason. So maybe if I let you know it’s in the bag, you might calm down and loosen up.” Smirking, Jablonski sighed. “Not the case though, eh?”

"I... I..." Gavarus's nervous stuttering was getting worse as she blushed a deep pink. "I... S... S...see wasn't even kind I my... It's... It's not just a thing that... Happens. I just... I..."

From her seat, Gavarus's eyes began darting around as if she was looking for an escape route. "Feeee..." She whispered, covering her mouth as she did.

"Calm dooown, calm doown, ye kin do this. Literally all ye have ta do to get the girl is not freak oot, Briar. So calm doown, looked dazed and happy and eat some crisps while ye wait for yuir food." Fiona did her best to guide her big buddy as she would one of her brothers, although usually she was speaking at them silently in bar speak nearby. Seeing and hearing it from Briaar's perspective was odd, to say the least.

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay." Gavarus replied to the voice in her ear, trying to calm herself down. "Okay. I... I wasn't expecting that. Not even a little."

As she spoke Gavarus chugged the remainder of her quite full mug of syntoholic beer, doing her best to pretend it was the real thing. Stifling a belch, the panicking Porcine held up her two fat fingers to the bartender and called out , "Whisky. A double. REAL!"

Taking a deep breath, Gavarus grabbed a chip, scooped a monstrously large pile of queso on it and shoved it in her face aggressively while she waited for the double shot whisky which she slammed back the second it arrived as Jablonski watched.

"Shiiiit. Okay. That's frickin' better. This... This is stupid. I've talked to you before. I... I don't have to be... an idiot." Sitting up straight, Gavarus put her fat fingers to the bridge of her snout. "Right?"

"Right," Jablonski nodded, having watched the comedy routine of the porkchop express try to calm herself down. Apparently straightforward was not the tension cutting approach she'd hoped for, but no matter. She was here for the date, after all, so she made a game play of starting a more innocuous topic of conversation. "So how did you end up in Starfleet?"

Taking another big mouthful of chips and queso, Gavarus was trying to relax, but just felt like she was ramping up instead. Gesturing to the bartender for a refill on her whisky, the nervous Tellarite chewed and swallowed before answering.

"Uh... I wanted to shut my family up. My dad's a senator. My mom's in Congress. Of my nine sisters and seven brothers, a few of them are also in Congress. A few more are high ranking Starfleet. ALL of them have me endless shit for not having ambition." Gavarus was talking a bit too fast now, overcompensating for her anxiety as the next drink appeared.

Taking a swig of the whiskey, gritting her teeth slightly as it went down hard but good, Gavarus shouted over to the bar. "C'mon. Where the @#$% is the frickin' food!" With two double Whiskey shots in her, she was rapidly becoming her more relaxed, crotchety self.

“Aw, they are doing their best, yannow? We did order a whole lotta food,” Jablonski deflected a bit. “Your folks still trying to matchmaker with you from a few dozen lightyears away? ‘Oh, that nice Thompson boy from the Aggie farm down the way is still single you know’. Like, seriously, how you gonna keep a gal down on the farm after she’s seen all this?”

"Take it easy on the whiskey, Briaar- ye don't want ta get too drunk too fast, aye?" came the gentle voice of warning in the floppy ear of the Tellarite.

Which was when things began to go sideways. Five more shots later, the food had arrived, and Gavarus was finally talking when she likely should have stopped.

"...so that's when Fee and me figured out the whole frickin' thing was a frickin' HOLOSUITE!" Gavarus slurred as she spoke, clearly drunk enough to be dangerous to herself now as Jablonski watched her date deteriorating.

“Well, it sure sounds like you two had quite the adventure,” Jablonski smiled, eyebrows raised as she finished chewing a hard-boiled egg. “You are kind of inseparable, you and your pal the pilot. I’m surprised she isn’t here tonight… I kind of half-expected she would.”

“MAYDAY MAYDAY Dinna ye tell her I’m in yuir ear coachin’ ye, no no nooo…” O’Dell warned her drunken pal.

"Oh please... I'm not a complete frickin' idiot." Gavarus replied to the voice of her partner-in-crime, not thinking. Then, immediately realizing what she was doing, tried to course-correct with a cheesy grin, "I... wasn't going to have her come with me. That... That would have been... weird, right?"

“Nae weird a’tall…” O’Dell muttered in Gavarus’ ear.

The eyes of the security officer narrowed, as she suspected the question was some sort of test. “Well… you two kind of do everything together, so I wasn’t sure. You made it pretty clear you were interested- and horribly nervous about it,” Jablonski admitted with a smile and a shrug. “And she’s always trying to help you out in that arena, so I didn’t know if you might bring her along, like a translator or something.” The mighty maiden nodded as she tucked into her meal in earnest. She ate like she was starving, which given her size, she was probably perpetually hungry.

"Well... uh... we really just get along is all." Gavarus was feeling inexplicably nervous again as she started talking about O'Dell but thanks to the Whiskey, her mouth was far faster than her brain at this point. "Like... I get her and she gets me. Like, we piss everyone off but we speak the same language, ya' know? But she's really cool. She took care of me when I got hurt and just... she's really awesome."

“Awwwww,” the voice in her ear matched up with the one across the table briefly, then Jablonski pressed on. “It’s nice that you two get along though. She does try to take care of you, and it’s clear that you two are the best of friends. I’ll admit, I’m a little jealous, yannow? I don’t have a bestie on board like that. Well… I mean, I talk to Hera a lot, but she’s not a friend, more like… a second mom, yannow?”

"What, are the rest of the security crew assholes or somethin'? You're always workin' out together n' shit." Gavarus asked as she took another swig of Who as she then took a massive bite of her sloppy sandwich.

"Hey, now. Nooo, the departments a buncha stand-up officers, Ethel Jablonski puffed up and sat up straight for that, which made it abundantly clear how much she had been subtly folding herself inward to somewhat soften her hulking physique. Which went on sudden and full display when the honor of her compatriots was brought into question. When her charges were attacked, she moved to defend. "Every one of 'em I'd trust with my life, and yours too. But, I mean, I'm friendly with lotsa the gals, but... I'm not so good at, uh, making friends. Like, not, like cousins, right? Not like a sibling because then you fight all the time, but like a cousin you just totally get along with, right? A friend like that. I don't have anybody I click with like that. Like you and the Leprechaun- wait, am I allowed to say that? Is that a slur? I hear you call her that, but you two are pretty blue to one another."

"Yeah, we @#$& around with each other, but I... don't think it bothers her. It's her pilot call sign, and Gonadie calls her it sometimes too." Gavarus replied, slightly taken aback and aroused at the same time by Jablonski's physical display. "N' if she didn't like it, she'd sure as hell say something. Right, Fee?"

Again, Gavarus unthinkingly spoke to the voice in her ear and froze slightly, hoping Jablonski would think she was just asking a general rhetorical question.

"Shhhh! I'm nae here, remember? It's joost you bein' suave and alla that," O'Dell's voice sounded in her ear, but Briaar's date was already reacting.

That got her a chuckle as Jablonski seemingly did not notice the slip. "Well, she sure isn't shy about speaking her mind. I like that... for such a tiny little tiny person, she's pretty feisty. So are you, which is what I think makes you fun. You care a lot less what people think of you, than how they act and how they treat you. Like, you want fast service and you don't mind being unpleasant to the wait staff, knowing what they probably do to your food back in the kitchen."

Saying so, Jablonski began mixing the sweet potatoes, peas and mashed potatoes together, and took a big spoonful of the mash to roll around in her mouth, washing it down with a few hearty gulps of water.

Letting out the breath she was holding since her verbal slip, Gavarus' nerves were kicking back in hard thanks to alcohol loosening her tongue. So she decided that the solution was, of course, more alcohol. Slamming back the rest of her drink, she gestured for another by waving the empty glass in the air and trying to figure out what to say next. The serer rolled their eyes as they went to fetch yet another Whiskey for the surly engineer.

"Yeah. It's not that I don't care what people think. I just generally know they already don't like me... aren't gonna like me... and it ultimately doesn't frickin' matter. So why pretend and put on some bullshit performance. Plus, there's nothing they can do to my food that I didn't eat on purpose at the academy to try and impress someone by doing stupid shit." Gavarus commented, shifting from overly gregarious to more surly as her fresh drink arrived.

Taking a swig, Gavarus continued to rant. "I know how this shit goes. People put on big ass fake smiles and pretend to like each other just to try and make it look like they wouldn't rather be anywhere else but there. But when your back is turned, they tell everyone else what they really think of you forgetting that it all comes back around. I know what people think of me. I'm the bitch. I'm the literal fat pig. I'm the disgrace to the uniform who should just shut up, do her job, then go hide under a rock for the night."

“Briaar, nooooooo, dinna put yuirself down like that, it’s nae romantic-“ Fiona started to protest, but Gavarus was on a roll.

"Me and Fee... we've gotten a lot of shit from people all our lives that decided that we weren't good enough from the first look. So we both decided to not give a @#$% out the gate. And I guess that helps us understand each other more. We know the score and we like each other for everything that we are, even the shit everyone else avoids." The words, self-pity and indignant irritation and all, just started to fall out of the normally jovial drunk without thinking.

The sturdy security superwoman was a bit taken aback by the directness of it all, but she continued to listen, nodding along as she continued eating, a process which occurred at a surprisingly rapid pace. By the time Gavarus finished, Jablonski had a slight half-smile on her lips. “It sounds like you two are a pretty good match, hm?”

Scoffing, Gavarus shook her head and took another drink. "I dunno. I guess. She hasn't gotten tired of my shit yet, at least. I mean..." Lost in her own head, the porcine engineer kept going on. "She hit that point where most people wash their hands of me and didn't blink. She's just... she's always there for me. She never lets me down. She never hurts me. I try to be there for her, but I'm not a tenth as good as she is. But I'm trying, ya' know? She's great."

“Awww, Briaar…” sounded in her ear as across the starship, Fiona O’Dell was genuinely touched by her best friend’s expressed sentiments. Meanwhile, in front of her, the security officer was putting pieces together.

“So, does she know how you feel about her, Gavarus? Have you told her all of this? Or are you two just not physically compatible? I mean, I sure know how that can go,” the broad-shouldered mountain of muscle mentioned, as it was clear that she would have to be careful with just about anyone in an intimate setting, given her sheer size and strength.

Confused and getting flustered, Gavarus tried to process the pretty petty officer's question. "Have I told her what? It's... we're not... she doesn't... Fee can't think of me like that. She's... we're friends! We're BEST friends, sure... but she can't...I don't know... No. What do you mean?"

The voice in her ear was surprisingly silent, as before her the big girl backpedaled a bit. “I’m sorry Briaar, I didn’t mean anything. It’s just… when you talk about her, it sounds like more than friends is all.” Holding up her hands in surrender, the prodigious petty officer pleaded. “I didn’t mean anything by it, just… I dunno, I always wanted someone to think that way about me, yannow? Somebody who’d have my back that I was always trying to be good enough for her, who inspired that kind of loyalty and devotion. But I’m not so good at people-ing, yannow? So I probably messed it up. Sorry… guess this is why I’m in the gym all the time, huh?” Jablonski laughed, a bit nervously, sounding like Barney Rubble.

Sighing, Gavarus slumped. "I'm ruining this, aren't I? Me and Fee... I don't know. Maybe we are more than friends. I mean... it wasn't really her that said that, it was the Thunderchicken..." Gavarus was rambling, half under her breath. "And I'm probably being stupid thinking..."

“Wait, noow… what did I… it… say?” O’Dell asked, sitting up straight, feeling somewhat panicked at what the ambulatory mech that may or may not have still been connected to her brain might have said to Briaar.

Grabbing her glass, Gavarus realized her drink was empty and she glanced around, not seeing the bartender. "I don't... I almost threw up on you. I know all ABOUT sucking at people-ing. And I like you. I really do... a lot. But... I just don't know if..."

Getting angry at herself, the Tall Tellarite wiped her snout as she tried to look at anything but Jablonski, "This was stupid! I'm stupid! I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have bothered you. I'm sorry!"

“I like you too, Miss Piggy,” the solid security officer offered. “You're gruff, but you use that to pretend you don’t care. But you do. You can go if you want- I won’t try to stop you. if that’s what you want. Maybe… that’s the question you ought to ask yourself, Gavarus? What do YOU want?”

"I... I thought I knew. I... I've wanted this since I first saw you." Gavarus blushed a deep pink as she looked down at her own hooves. She paused for a second, bringing her stubby hand up to her ear, wanting to pluck the earpiece out, knowing O'Dell was listening, but didn't.

"@#$&... Like you didn't know from how stupid I am whenever I'm around you. But now... It's... It's different. And I don't know what I frickin' want. I... Gods damn it." Frustrated, drunk and uninhibited, Gavarus reached up and pulled the earpiece out for all to see.

"Sorry... She's been trying to help but I got too drunk. I'm sorry." The perplexed Porcine knitted her eyebrows as she looked across at Ethel. "I've wanted this date for months. I still do. But now I'm @#$&ed up in the head and I don't know how to deal with this shit."

Without pausing, Gavarus talked into the earpiece. "When the 'Chicken was you and Gonadie was about to shut it down... It... you leaned up against me... Just like you do for real. And... It... you said you loved me. Like... LOVE love!"

"Oh... that... ohhhhh," said O'Dell, but not through the earpiece, but from behind her, where the little leprechaun was standing, PaDD in hand. Stepping up beside Gavarus, the Mariposian maiden looked from one woman to the other.

Swallowing hard, O'Dell took a deep breath, then eyed Gavarus. "Ah do love ye, Briaar. Yuir me mate, me best buddy, me partner in crime, and I love spending me time wi'ye. We make a good team, ye and me. But there's some things I canna give ye, and ye've got needs. And that's natural, so I want ye to date, to see people, to do what grown-ups do when they like one another. And I like Big Ethel. Her heart's as big as her biceps, and she'd nae hurt ya. That's why I'm yuir wingman, to try ta help ye charm yuir way inta her panties and stop ye from ruinin' yuir chances. Least, that was me plan."

"Maybe not me best plan..." The verbose little lass with the squeaky voice appeared to have an audience for her little speech, until Jablonski cleared her throat meaningfully, and suddenly people found other things to do.

"Gonadie... did the 'Chicken was just running off of a memory loop or some shit..." Gavarus sniffled, her eyes welling up slightly. "But that was bullshit. I could hear it... your voice... your body language. I knew it was you. Even if it was just acting out your dreaming, it was you."

"Fee, I... " The Porcine Engineer looked down at her best friend in the galaxy, then over to Ethel whos expression was one of sympathy of all things, then back to O'Dell. "I... I... @#$&... I could say it to the robot... Fee... I l... love you too."

Fumbling with her hand, Gavarus groped for her glass, forgetting that it was empty. "Shit. This is so @#$&ing confusing. I feel like shit."

"My stomachs still do flip flops for you, Ethel." Gavarus looked over plaintively to the mammoth woman. "I asked you out b... because I wanted this. But... Shiiiit."

"Tell you what," Jablonski spread her hands, gesturing in a controlled manner. "It sounds like you two might need to go somewhere and talk. Or maybe stay here and talk- the lounge seems to kind of be your element, after all. I'm not going anywhere, and I'll be around when you figure this out between you two, however that works. I'm not mad or upset or even miffed, and I'm not gonna be, so relax, okie doke? I honestly thought it was surprising when O'Dell didn't come along on our date to keep you cool, but turned out, she kinda did after all. So maybe you two should talk and hash some things out between you, eh? Because pretty much, where one goes, you find the other."

Rising from the table, Jablonski gently mussed the mop of bright red curls of the ensign, which broke lots of protocol rules but amused the undersized officer. Then, stepping over to the seated stymied swine, Big Ethel clapped her gently on the shoulder, and offered a kiss on the cheek. Just enough to warm the skin and leave a hint of her perfume, which smelled like lavender body wash. "It was still a nice date. Thanks, Briaar."

Then the sturdy Security strong gal sashayed away, her tight skirt showing off a taut, muscular bubble butt and thick, muscular thighs and calves.

With her flabby jaw hanging slack open, Gavarus watched Ethel leave, transfixed on the site. She was even more a goddess to the portly Porcine in that moment, her cheek still warm where Ethel kissed her.

"I, ah, might have to turn in me wingman wings," Fiona chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry Briaar... I dinna mean ta ruin yuir date wi' yuir dream girl."

Snapped out of her moment of daydreaming, Gavarus knitted her eyebrows at O'Dell. "What?"

Pausing for a second, Briaar Gavarus thought of Ethel. She was a model of physical perfection. To the Tellarite's eyes, she was more radiant than the cosmic being she guarded. And to make matters worse, she was actually nice. She was thoughtful and nervous and even a little funny. Gavarus still craved her. Still wanted her. Still lusted after her.

But she didn't think about her. She didn't look into her future and imagine Ethel standing beside her. She didn't picture Ethel next to her on a barstool on Risa when shore leave came around. She didn't think of Ethel when she imagined who would be with her when she was finally allowed to brag to her family about her accomplishments on the Hera. It wasn't Ethel she imagined with her when she grew old. Not anymore.

As Gavarus thought, her eyes felt thick and wet and she snorted back as she looked over at O'Dell. "Oh... shut up, Fee. You didn't ruin a frickin' thing. I... I just started to wake up, is all."

The emotional Engineer didn't know how to say what she was feeling. That deep down, her dream had changed.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens, the 15th, chewed on a ration bar, looking thoroughly deez-gusted.

Not with the bar- as rations went, Petty Officer DeLacroix had practically revolutionized the idea, by building a bar that not only would keep you alive, but actually was tasty. It was a miracle of modern science, it was. As impressive as his current repast was, he was distracted from it by one teeny, tiny, minuscule detail.

He had no idea where they all were.

"Damnitall, how could every-damned-thang in thuh whole core jus' smoke itself, lahk a cannibalistic doobie??" he groused, trying to coax the navcomputer from the shuttle into betraying its secrets.

Sitting in the corner with bandages across half of her face and upper shoulder nursing significant plasma burns, Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox groaned slightly, understanding the Chief Intelligence Officer’s frustration all too well. “I wish I knew, Lieutenant.”

There was a bit more rasp in the usually raspy-voiced young Romulan pilots voice than usual. “It was a catastrophic, cascading system failure. Happened across the board in… in an instant. There wasn’t even a warning light before the console blew up in my damn face.”

The young pilot had never a ship go down while she was at the helm of before and was trying not to wallow in the moment, and so was trying to help Clemens troubleshoot the problem. It was something to do to figure out why their runabout malfunctioned so epically immediately upon returning to their own time. “How long did the shuttle remain at warp after I got knocked out?”

"Ah counted th'seconds b'fore ah heard th'subspace re-entry downshift. Was about twelve point fahve three. But ah dunno what our factuh or headin' was, an' if'n our vectuh changed aftuh. Th'dampenuhs lasted fuh 'bout thuhty seconds moah, an' then we wuz a'driftin'," Sam replied, having given up on the fused-solid core. Whatever had hit them lept from system to system, thermally-destroying things as it moved, like ball lightning on a summer day over the West Memphis sky.

Sam had only minutes before disconnected his charging systems from the tiny ship's IPS grid, having topped off his internal cells.

The young but seasoned pilot closed her exposed eye and started running math in her head, mumbling bits and pieces as she tried to think out loud. "Twelve point five three. We were cruising at warp six point two…"

Fingering In the air in front of her, Dox winced slightly from moving her burnt shoulder. "The last position I saw was seven seven four mark… assuming the warp fall off was minimal… Hnaev."

Cursing in Romulan as she muttered, Dox replied. "Yeah… once the helm was fried, we could have changed direction. But at that speed for that duration could make the search area… across three systems. We could be in the… Martell system, the Goraz system or even the D'Nazz cluster."

“I’m betting on the Martell system myself,” Rita Paris re-entered the shuttlecraft, dusting off her hands. “I’m not intimately familiar with the system, but judging from the visible constellations in the sky, it’s a high likelihood.“

Tapping the injured Romulan pilot on the arm, Paris grinned at her. She was sporting a black eye from trying to get out of the reclamator in a hurry when the surge had hit. “C’mon, I built a fire. Bring some of those aluminum foil blankets, let’s have a seat and warm ourselves by the fire. Like it or not, we’re on a camping trip, so we may as well make the most of it.”

That was when Dedjoy, the captain’s android yeoman, returned with good and bad news from her brief scouting trip. “I have found a clean source of fresh water nearby. There are also berry bushes and fruit-bearing trees, but I advise against eating them as they register as toxic to all but Lieutenant's Dox and Sonak's digestive tracts. I surmise that they would be a powerful hallucinogen for them both due to the bio-acrylates present.”

Stepping out of the shattered remains of the Runabout Danu, the infirmed pilots personal favorite Runabout, with a stack of silver thermal blankets crinkling under her arm, Dox groaned lightly. Moving exacerbated her pain, but it was more annoying than not at the moment. "Lovely. There's food, but only Sonak and I can eat it but if we do we'll start hallucinating. As if I needed more reasons to dislike camping."

As Clemens started unshipping and prying exterior panels off the broken frame of the poor craft that gave her life to save her charges, stacking them in neat piles by size, he mused out loud, "… mah granpap usetah talk 'bout how most plants had somethin' useful, even if'n the easy t'git stuff was no account. Like how 'mater plants'd iill ya if ya tried t'eat anythin' but th'fruit. Th'leaves're fulla digitalis, 'cause it's a relative of dead'leh nightshade." He finished stripping the plating off, and went to work on the interior trim, doing the same thing. His unspoken intent was to turn maybe-viable wreckage into definitely-useable shelter, maybe even with a bit of privacy. "Maybe th'roots or leaves or stems of that berry and fruit plants have somethin' we could make use of…"

"Well, there are rations for when we're hungry. We've still got medkits and survival gear, and the hull is still intact, so we have some shelter. We've got an emergency beacon, but we aren't sure how long that subspace signal might take to find someone who cares. In the meanwhile, we'll make do and take this night under these stars that are so far away from all of our homes. And we are going to tell stores, and share experiences, and keep our spirits up. Because we may be shipwrecked, but we're not alone. Starfleet is out there, and they'll find us."

"Assuming we're supposed to exist right now," Paris admitted aloud. "Mr. Sonak, how accurate was our chronal transit?"

The Vulcan was barely out of his healing trance. It had taken him a day to restore himself after being hit indirectly by an EPS conduit blow up under his station. Only this advanced healing self-healing technique and his Vulcan physiology, strengthened and toughened by evolution on a harsh, hot, desert planet, had saved him from fatal injury. As it were, such a short session had only restored his faculties and only his decades of mental discipline kept him in control, apparently only singed from the ordeal; an Andorian would have died on the spot and a Human would still be racked with atrocious, incapacitating pain. He carefully avoided close contact with his wife and everyone else, else his newly heightened telepathy would have them share his suffering. Only this obvious attitude and his slower speech betrayed all this to the others as he answered his wife and commanding officer.

''Spacetime is one and the same. Therefore, our temporal deviation is just as significant as our spatial displacement. Such would place us several centuries off our targeted time. However, our stellar cartography computer files and sensors were destroyed in the crash. It will take time from our current vantage point to determine it exactly... and if it is in the past... or in the future of our intended destination.''

Placing the stack of thermal blankets on a downed log near the fire, Dox grabbed one and wrapped it around her shoulders and slowly lowered herself to the ground near the fire with a pained groan. "I can't be certain as the memory is a little... jumbled... but I think we were out of the quantum displacement and back in normal space when the helm blew up. If so, we should be when we intended to arrive. Emphasis on 'I think'. It's still all a little... fuzzy."

''I was totally incapacitated when the actual reentry happened,'' Sonak said. ''If you are correct, then our displacement is only spatial due to navigational failure. But the time for Starfleet to pick up our signal depends on the closeness of any functional subspace relay. If not, then it will take eight point seventy-six hour for the signal to cross a light year.''

"Then if we are in the Martell system, then Starfleet should pick up our signal before too long. It's remote but not completely off the map." the injured pilot added, trying to keep her own spirits up as Rita had suggested, focusing on the positives.

Sitting down as well, Ila closed down her tricorder and closed her large eyes for a moment. It seemed she was the only one that had somehow escaped any semblance of injury in the incident along with the Klingon Security Officer, S'Rina, who was silently patrolling the perimeter. "The last thing I saw on the displacement drive interface was that we were exiting the quantum filament roughly a week after our initial departure and in the general vicinity of the systems you described earlier. A little off of the projected arrival, but still within the safety margins."

Listening, Dox couldn't help but smile a little. If they had returned a week or more past the point in which they left the timeline, it was possible that her Bond-Mate Mona back on the Hera would know if their attempts at conception were successful or not by then.

"Someone see if we can launch a probe to boost our signal and increase our odds of getting rescued sooner. And meanwhile... we're here. We could be industrious and build shelter, but for tonight we can sleep in the Unlucky Lady. I think tonight we sit around a campfire, keep the sensors on alert, hope that alien mosquito bites aren't deadly, and we'll tell stories."

"In fact, why not tell one of your own stories, so we can get to know one another a little better. because we're marooned on an alien planet we haven't identified yet, possibly lost in time as well as space although that is looking doubtful now, fortunately," Paris nodded to the able pilot who had crash-landed from orbit, with no casualties and only one serious injury due to an exploding panel. "I'll start, because mine is a sad story. It's one of my ghost stories."

Briefly, she considered sending Sonak to monitor the sensors so he could rest, but he knew himself and his limits, and she respected his choices. If he wanted rest he would take it, but here, by the primitive fire as the third moon rose, it might do some good to get all their minds of their shipwrecked state.

"It was sometime in my second year on the Constitution. I'd been a ghost when we shoved off, and I'd been a ghost ever since. I was still trying to find ways to communicate with people- I figured if I got close enough to the right field or energy wavelength or scanner someone would see me or figure out I was there. That's how I met Crewman Gary Barnhardt." Leaning back against the tree Rita had her back to, she eased into the story.

"Gary worked down in Science Lab 8, under Chief Carson and Doctor Zanque, a petty little ensign who was just a miserable excuse for an officer. I learned all of this because, y'know, for most of my day I didn't have anything to do. So I had taken to hanging around the science labs, and eight in particular because they did a lot of exotic scans. Which was kind of interesting to observe... again, boredom was my greatest enemy since I didn't sleep. Anyway. I started... following people around sometimes. I wanted to feel like I was with people. so I would attach myself to people sometime and just follow them around. It made it feel like I had a routine, somewhere to be, a purpose."

Rolling her neck a bit, Rita hissed at the stiffness. She was definitely going to need one hell of a chiropractic adjustment after this. "So I had taken to following Gary, and one day, as he gets back to his quarters, he turns and says, 'Hey, beautiful'. I stopped dead in my tracks- I was excited, elated- had something he had been exposed to enable him to perceive me? To see me? I rushed him, to wave in his face and call out to him."

"Then he walked through me, and went over to pick up the holo of his girl back home. Ramona."

"I followed Gary for a few weeks, I think. Ah, my time perception started slipping after a while, so it could have been months. But I actually started looking forward to him talking to his girlfriend, because... okay, try not to judge, please, remember the circumstances. I looked forward to him talking to his girlfriend, because I imagined that he was talking to me. And so I listened, and I pretended, and I worked on holding onto my sanity. which was going pretty well until the day a subspace datapacket was received. Mail from home, they used to call it. Datapackets from loved ones and family, favorite shows and new vids and movies from back home, and love letters from distant shores."

Sitting up, Rita looked at the fire, picking up a stick to tend to it with no small degree of skill. Clearly this wasn't her first campfire. "Ramona had made a video diary of herself, every day recording a one minute message to him for six months. Sweet, right? Thoughtful. All she ever did was talk about herself, and her friends and the tournament they were training for. Then came the day she sat in front of the camera, all prim and proper, and she dumped him."

"Now, Starfleeters have been dumped since before we sailed space. Mariners came home to find their wives in the arms of another, so the story goes, and poor Gary was no exception. He watched the rest of the one minute videos where she talked about what a good time she was having with her new boyfriend Konar, and how she felt good knowing that he was over it by now, and that she was glad they could still be friends. It was perhaps the most callous exercise in selfishness I have ever witnessed, before or since." Paris looked around at the tight-knit and heroic crew, and smiled, a somewhat grim smile.

"I'd listened to Crewman Barnhart go on and on to Ramona, extolling her virtues, and sharing his hopes and dreams to the image of the woman he thought was waiting for him back home, only to discover that even with a ring on it, she did not feel constrained to be faithful. Why he watched all of the vids, I will never know, but he did. And when he was done, he hung himself in the shower with his underpants." The ancient astronaut paused to look around. "I couldn't stop him. I cried for days, and all because I was so lonely that I had followed the man around and basically let him talking to the picture of his girlfriend substitute for human interaction for me."

"I identified with his idealized Ramona. She had been my stand-in, someone who still existed. So when he killed himself, I felt guilty, as if I had somehow contributed to it. I cried for days, and eventually... that was the first time I walked into the dilithium chamber. Because of the guilt I felt over Barnhardt's death, that I had nothing to do with, and could not have prevented."

"And yet."

There was a pregnant pause, whereupon Paris sat up, held her hands out to either side of her. "That's my story. Who's next?"

The assemblage of stranded Starfleet sojourners sat In shock for a few seconds. The impact of Rita's tragic tale, just one of so many collected through the different eras the time-tossed Commander had lived in, hit those listening flat in the chest.

The silence lingered for a moment as Dox shifted uncomfortably to a more upright position as she sniffled slightly. It was months ago that she had shared with Rita her own flirtations with suicide as a child and wanted to run up and hug her chosen bond-sister, but in the group it didn't seem appropriate and would only serve to bring the mood even lower. "It's not fair to make someone with an eye that's bandaged shut cry, Commander. Heh."

The somewhat awkward, forced joke cut the tension ever so slightly as the red-headed Romulan leaned a little closer to the fire as she cleared her throat. "I guess that means I volunteer to go next."

Arcing her head up, Dox looked up at the stars above them all and sighed slightly. "For the most part, when I was growing up on the Forager… my mother's smuggling ship… it was just the two of us. Declan was never my real father so he left early when the business no longer served his needs, Leaving it mostly just us. But we weren't always alone."

"I had an uncle growing my. My mother's brother. She… neither of us talks about him much. He was still loyal to the empire, at least on paper. His name was Va'Kone tr'Aan and he was a military engineer on Chetzia III before some kind of weaponized plant things wiped out the military installation there. He and his daughter evacuated, my cousin. Her name was Lhi. Lhi t'Aan. She was… well, when I was a little girl, she was my only friend."

"Her name In Rihan meant 'a game of wits and riddles' and she lived up to it. When I met her after they evacuated I was…" Dox paused for a slight moment to think, a melancholy expression, "I was seven and Lhi was nine. Maybe ten at the most."

Leaning back slightly with a wince, the heat of the flames quickly became too much for the sensitive, freshly burned skin of the injured pilot. But she shook the moment off an continued. "We intercepted their escape ship and brought them over. Va'Kone was… he didn't even know his sister was still alive so he was beyond happy and they stayed with us for a month and a half until my mother arranged to get him his own freighter to take Lhi to a reunification colony on the rim of the neutral zone."

"But that month and a half…" Dox smiled broadly and warmly as she remembered. "They were the best of my childhood. It was the only time growing up where my Mother let off the reins of trying to make me her perfect little soldier. She let me be a little girl when Lhi was there. So I did. We played and explored the ship and got in trouble. We… we were friends."

The injured Romulan pilot settled back slightly, trying to get comfortable as she talked, though the memory was clearly filled with mixed emotions. “After my Mother found them a ship… a little Romulan shuttle, really, not much bigger than a runabout, I stole two sub-space portable comm units from a cargo shipment we had in the hold. I hid one in my room and gave one to Lhi so we could still talk after she left. I knew a smugglers frequency that was near impossible to detect or track and we talked every night after lights out, sometimes for hours.”

“Their trip was only supposed to be about three weeks on low warp to the Romulan/Vulcan colony, but it felt like another eternity. I had my lessons all day with my Mother. Flight class. Combat training. Engine maintenance. Understanding how the cloak worked. Then in the afternoon, Language drills. Vulcan and Klingon and Federation standard. Then more flight training. Basic sciences. It was a repeating cycle most days for about 14 hours a day when we weren’t too busy with a job.”

Then a smile replaced the melancholia. “Then it was lights out and I’d pull out the comm unit I’d hid under the deck plates in my little room and Lhi and I would talk. We would play games and talk all night long. I would tell her how desperately I wanted to get away from being a smuggler. She would talk about wanting to learn logic from the Vulcans and learn how to fly a ship like I was being trained to. She wanted to learn everything. I think she would have enjoyed having my mom train her the way she trained me.”

“But she lived up to her name, and she loved puzzles. She would come up with logic puzzles and end each transmission every night for those weeks with a new one for me to think about during the day. I looked forward to that call all day long like, what’s the expression Commander? A kid on Christmas?”

"It's around our winter solstice, the shortest day of the year on the northern hemisphere, but it kind of caught on worldwide. We celebrate with gifts, which we wrap in colorful paper to disguise their true nature, and place them as temptations, not to be opened until Christmas. Although really, the joy is in seeing the gift opened by someone who then sees that you get them. Since most of the gift giving is particularly for children, they are usually very excited for Christmas morning, when they will be allowed by some societal pact that they can now open their presents."

"So yes, Miss Dox, that level of excitement." Married to a man of logic, and one of the few humans amongst the stars where she traveled, Rita Paris had striven to become adept at succinct, yet illustrative explanations of her culture to those who had no context. As an explorer amongst the stars, one had to be able to relate.

Continuing, Dox’s tone shifted dramatically as the joy that had been on her face vanished. “Then, one night while we were talking, Lhi was… different. Scared. She was telling me something about how their engine core was glitching. The ship kept changing speed without warning, leaping to higher speeds then should have been possible, then back down to a crawl. I told her to have her father to check the plasma injectors and the flow regulators but nothing worked.”

“The signal began to break up… interference from… whatever was happening.” Dox looked increasingly stressed as she recounted the tale. “Then, Lhi vanished for ten minutes. The longest ten minutes in my life up until that point. When she came back on, she was in a panic, all but screaming. She screamed for me to come help her. That her father went into the engine room and never came back out. That he was just… gone. I… I didn’t know what to do so I just kept talking. But she was so scared and I was trying to not sound scared for her. Then… the last thing I heard was... She just screamed at… something. She said… ‘No, leave me alone.’ and the line went dead. Nothing.”

Rubbing the back of her neck, Dox swallowed. “I… I just froze there listing to subspace static for… at least an hour before my Mother called me to the bridge. I hid the comm and went. She was in her robe at the comm station, crying. I’d… I’d never seen her cry before. She said that the Vulcans from the colony called her. Said that her brother’s ship sent out a distress signal and then… vanished. Vanished less than two million kilometers away. There was some debris, but Romulan ships use an artificial quantum singularity as their engine core and when those go… they don’t leave much debris.”

“I cried for… a good week. Every night. My mom’s solution was to increase our workload and make me train harder to exhaust me, but it didn’t help.” Dox continued, looking deep into the fire as she spoke. “Then, about two weeks later, I pulled the comm unit out from under the deck plates and… I turned it back on. I figured that they never found the ship, just some debris. In my depression, I clung to the idea that she had somehow survived. So I listened for nights. All night long, listing to subspace static, every few minutes asking if she could hear me until I’d passed out but there was, of course, nothing.”

“Nothing until the sixth night.” Dox said grimly. “I’d been nodding off, exhausted from a particularly long day of fight training and was nursing a broken arm courtesy of being taught how to get out of an armbar in the most painful way possible. And then I heard it.”

“The static cleared up and there was silence for a few seconds and I heard Lhi’s voice. It was weak and distant sounding, but I heard it as she said ‘Melanie?’”. Dox spoke, evoking the humanized name she had been given as a child to hide her Romulan heritage.

“I… I couldn’t believe it. I shot up in my bed and called back for her. I was practically screaming, but had to try and keep my mother from hearing me. But it came through again. I heard her voice, clear as a bell this time. She said, “Melanie? Where are you? I can’t see anything.”

“I… I actually wet the bed that night I was so terrified by the sound of her voice, it was so scared sounding.” Dox had a half-forced grin as she recounted the tale, trying to bolster herself. “Then she said, ‘Melanie, help me.’ and the line went dead again. Nothing but static. I ran across the ship like crazy and all but dragged my mother from the helm to come to hear.”

“She was… furious that I had been transmitting from the ship… but she listened too, but it was gone. No signal. No voice. Nothing.” Dox held her shoulders and shrunk slightly. “My mother was… she took the comm unit and… disciplined me for taking it and using it as it could have given away our position. But it didn’t stop me from trying again. I would sneak onto the bridge while she was busy and check the signal. Once I was actually flying the ship, I would leave the comm line on for hours sometimes. It was a secure frequency. But there was nothing ever again. Sometimes, I still will call it up and listen, but I’ve never heard anything again."

“My mother tried to convince me I had dreamt it or imagined it, but I know I was awake. I know what I heard.” Dox concluded, looking up sheepishly to her shipmates. “Uh… next, I guess.”

There was silence for a few long moments around the campfire as everyone considered the chilling tale.

The doll-faced android blinked a few times and finally broke the silence. "You all know I've died. It was an... Enlightening experience. I conversed with Gaia and Primordius, tracked through the quantum realm, guided the development of an entirely new system, saw the past and future as one and the same as the present..."

She paused to take a deep breath and let it out slowly, staring into the fire before continuing. "But one thing still haunts me to this day. When I was in the drive room... About to activate it... I felt my twin sister with me. She died on an away mission on the USS Katana years ago but I had the distinct feeling that she was there with me for some reason and that everything would be ok."

"Anyway, as soon as I activated the drive, the room was flooded and I was dumped into the quantum realm. I could see the ship fly away from me, spinning off on every axis towards its destination, but I was stuck in what was essentially limbo, waiting to die. I mean, it was beautiful... The trip through the wormhole doesn't even compare. It was..." Ila paused again, trying to find words for something that obviously had none.

"Anyway, after what seemed like an eternity, yet no time at all, a glowing form coalesced before me that looked like my twin sister. She showed me how to return to you and how to travel through the quantum realm. I don't know if it really was my sister, but... Thanks to her, I was able to find Commander Paris and figure out how to guide what path the genesis devices took from the other side."

That's when Ila looked up and fixed each one of them with her wide-eyed, unblinking gaze. "Now... Here's the ghost story... When I'm near the particles in the lab... And when I'm asleep, in my dreams... I can hear whispers... I don't know who or what they are but sometimes I can make them out. They talk about things I don't understand. I think they're supposed to be deep secrets of how the universe works or something about the aspects of reality. The last thing I understood was something about a white rabbit and the Captain. And the most disturbing thing? They're all in my sister's voice..."

Dedjoy then waved one hand, trying to dismiss it all. "I'm probably just going crazy and need a few diagnostics and counseling. I'll make a few appointments when we get back."

Listening, Dox nodded and smiled. "Considering everything we've all experienced on the Hera, that doesn't sound crazy at all. Asa's a tremendous counselor, however, and that's always a good idea."

"I've listened to the little voice in my head that's smarter than me for my entire life, Miss Dedjoy- and I'm not talking about Mr. Sonak," Paris paused for the chuckle that brought. "Inspiration comes in a great number of forms, Yeoman. Besides, for all we know, perhaps your sister is still beside you, advising you from another plane of existence. We've both been ghosts, after all. As the wise man says," Paris turned to let a concerned frown slip. "There are always... possibilities."

They were now all looking at Sonak with expectant eyes. There was no ignoring them or what they wanted. And he knew a dismissal would not be conducive to easing the conditions of their marooning for these emotional beings. Although he did not at all share their need, he was still a Starfleet officer; and it was his duty to see to the best survival of his crewmates. And thus he decided to humor them- it was the logical thing to do.

''Vulcans have no superstitions, nor fear of the unknown or belief in the supernatural. But this has not always been the case. Before the Time of Surak, emotions were as much part of our lives as it is for you; fear, of course, prominent among them. And in those days, stories were told that could have justified fear. It is a fact that there is much more to this universe than all the knowledge we have accumulated so far, beyond all the wisdom we have given ourselves. And without evidence, who can say any testimony of the unexplained is false? Witness this account...''

He paused before starting his tale, his gaze wandering far across the stars in the sky, as if he were looking back at primeval Vulcan itself, and seeing the events he was about to relate.

''Before the Time of Surak, in those bygone days of war and bloodshed, it was believed that hatred was a spirit possessing the mind, living eternally off the blood and suffering of the people. Today we do know such immaterial beings do exist; the Jack-The-Ripper entity encountered by Captain James Kirk's crew on Argelius IV, and later the hate-feeding one that pitted them against the crew of Klingon Commander Kang, reviving them over and over to renew their savage violence... And in the shrouded eons of Vulcan antiquity, so they were.''

His toneless voice became cold, distant.

''It so happened that a company of soldiers took refuge within the outpost of their enemy, an enemy they had just massacred. After weeks of tearing at each other's throats and minds, three men were all that was left of two armies. These were the three most vicious, most powerful, most ruthless warriors of them all. And now they reveled in the blood spilling of which they had been an active part, smashing the katra urns of former friends and foes alike in glee, relishing pocketing the riches, eating the food, drinking the wine and sleeping within the house of their fallen foes. And so they did, bathed in the red glow of T'Nukh, the giant sister world of Minshasa, as Vulcan was only called in those days. It was the first night of their victory; the last night of their mortal lives.''

His steely grey eyes looked past them; but the dancing glow of their campfire brought an eerie light to his gaze. His deep voice became even colder.

''Something they felt but could not name wakened them all at the same time. Not a noise, not a smell, something... fainter yet deeper; more than a feeling... yet nothing truly perceptible. The strongest among them rose, took his lirpa, tested the razor-sharpness of it's edge and went to investigate. Without knowing why, they all looked up at the ceiling, as if they could see the top of the ruined, blackened tower they were residing."

"They could see nothing, and only the vague cry of the wind could be heard. The strongest among them thus went to the spiraling stairs and ascended to the top of the tower. They followed the sound of his footsteps as he disappeared in the dark, beyond the rising elevation of the stairs. They followed the noise of his sandals over their heads as he walked... then stopped. Then, the heavy silence was rent asunder by a blood-curdling cry; it was the terror and agony- filled voice of their comrade... before they heard the distinct sound of a body falling.''

Now his eyes went to each one of his fellow castaways in turn.

''Then both of the men left inside heard a scraping noise... and their comrade's slow, heavy footsteps resumed. He was walking back down to rejoin with them. They saw first his sandals coming down the stairs; then his legs and the fresh, fine trickle of blood smearing them; and then he was walking back to them, his bloodied lirpa in his right hand... and in his left, his own severed head.''

All there yes were locked to his. His voice froze even the fire between them.

''The night resonated with the screams of the men; all three of them. But no one heard... except the dead. It was later told that the few who dared come to this ruined place to loot it or bury the dead never came back... or the rare few that did ran from it stark mad, blabbering about three headless corpses haunting the ruined fortress, killing every living being daring to violate the place, feeding on the terror and suffering... most of all between one another. To this day, it is believed that there is an antiquated ruin at the heart of the Vulcan desert called '’where three deaths forever live’. No one knows where it truly lies... or no one dares to tell.''

Sonak spoke no more, and for long moments, silence held sway over the campsite.

“Well, that was… impressive,” Paris said, finally breaking the silence. “Even Vulcans have ghost stories. Spooky ones, too,” Paris admitted, crossing her arms and rubbing her upper arms with her hands as if to warm them. “How about you, Sam? You come from a long line of tale-tellers. Got a story of a ghostly riverboat or a gambler whose luck ran out or a journey into darkness?”

Sam looked pensive, as though wondering whether or not to share this piece of his history. However, after a moment, he leaned back against the hull-frame of the shuttle, and spoke quietly.

"After I lost my parents, it occurred to me that galactic exploration might not be a bad way to improve my starfaring skills, especially since one of my ancestors decided that an inheritance of some mystery would ride upon some very specific criteria- one of which was my given name, and others to be found Out There- among the stars."

He settled down on a toolchest, and continued, the glow of the camplight unit making his blue eyes stand out under the mane of ginger hair above.

"I was barely seventeen when I showed up at the Merchants' Guild branch outside of Paris. I'd gotten business settled, and made sure I had no ties left on planet."

"I'd read up on the EmmGee, ever since I turned twelve, and knew the bylaws allowed for an emancipated minor to sign up, even without a sponsor, as long as there were no familial objections- and there really wasn't anythin' left on Earth for me, just then." He looked wistful, then shook it off, as he continued.

"I walked right in there, and signed up, pretty as you please, without a stitch of trouble. My school transcripts and aptitude test scores did the speakin' for me, and even then, I had a knack for engineerin', so they signed me up on a six-month tour on a freighter bound for deep space, on a trading expedition. We were bound for the Beta Quardant, out Ivor and Altair way, rolling past the Typhon Expanse, looking for new types of goods to trade for. It was a long haul, but the Expanse held some risk, and thus the pickings out there were richer than in the easy to get-to areas. We carried four of the five holds crammed full of useful doo-dads and supplies that wouldn't be easy to fabricate way out there, and quite a few things that were just culturally-distinct, which held value of their own due to uniqueness."

"We were in a sturdy ship, not meant for speed, but for reliable carrying of cargo, with several underslung scouting shuttles equipped with good comm systems and sensors, for contacting locals."

"I got to know the crew- several were Starfleet retirees, others were Merchant family members, and others were like me- exploring, learning, just experiencing. Marella was one of them. She was near my age, I think. Her culture didn't measure time as a day-to-day thing. They just flowed through it, in her words. She was what passed for a section chief in Engineering, and I was the newborn babe of the team. She took a shine to me, and I to her. We had interests in common. Several months passed, as we went our way toward the Beta Quadrant."

The spook took on a look not usual to his countenance, as he continued. "We'd just skimmed the riptide area on the upper side of the Expanse, when sensors reported a nebula that wasn't on the charts. Initial scans indicated it was a Class 3, with indications of multiple warp signatures inside, as well as profiles indicating at least three separate star systems. As we got closer, the systems showed multiple M-class signatures, and the subspace anchor for the nebula read as a multiphasic emitter, currently in-phase with the local quantum signature. It had probably been missed by surveys and other ships because it wasn't phase-matching at the time, and thus acted as a form of natural masking."

"The Cap'n figured a couple of things- one, it had warp-capable folks, so no Prime Directive messes, and two, it was remote, and not normally visible, which made it a primo trading area, and probably full of unique stuff." Clemens closed his eyes. "I wish we'd never seen it."

He took a deep breath, and went on, "We went in with what I'd learned was this company's usual contact system, involving sending in messenger probes with greetings and offers, and waiting for responses before sending actual ships into what might be a restricted area. Turns out, though, they were eager to see us, and responded with some excitement to our offers, inviting us to visit and show them our wares, as it were."

"This was an experienced company, so we went in with sensor sweeps and fingers on shield controls and weapons stations manned. NO one was gonna catch us off-guard, no-sirree. But we got nothing but friendship offered, and after a few successful meetings, the command crew decided we'd go ahead and work on trading off all our goods and load up on all the unique stuff this place had to offer, which was considerable. Tons of unheard-of art and music, foods with flavor profiles totally-different from anything on record- and a sublight drive system that bore no resemblance to anything I'd ever seen- from a totally-unique evolution path. Their physics was born of living in a naturally trans-phasic area, so they'd learned things no one else had. They'd skipped the chemical and ionic propulsion phase entirely- their early sailing ships were navigating gravitic waves by exploiting the naturally-evolved organic materials these planets had developed. Floating wood. Metals that could be forged into multiple shapes, then shifted from shape to shape with multi-tonal sounds. They sang to their creations, asking them to become what they dreamed of."

He had a smile on his face, and a faraway look, as though recalling a wonderful dream. But it didn't hold- he took up the tale again.

"We were near capacity on the holds, and I was workin' on adapting some of the structural techniques the locals used to make the hull plating lighter, when Marella came down to the workshop. She'd been off supervising the cargo teams, making sure they didn't load things together that wouldn't like each other."

"She had an odd look on her face, like she had indigestion. She came straight to me, and told me that we needed to look at one of the long-range shuttles, immediately. Something had gone wrong, and she needed my help."

"Her eyes, which usually were an aquamarine color in the outer irises, and a rusty color in the inner ones, didn't look right. I figured she'd gotten an allergy to the local flora, or something. I went with her down to the shuttle connector area, and we dropped through the hatch."

"As soon as the hatch closed, she hit a switch on the comms panel, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood straight up. She had a look on her face that I never want to see again. Like terror mixed with contentment mixed with rage. She gestured me forward frantically. 'We've got to go, Sam. I don't know how long I can jam it...'"

"I sat down next to her, too scared to ask, but needing to, anyway. 'What are you jammin', Mar? ...look at me.' She was punching in the pre-flight routines without looking, either at the panel or at me."

"'Look at me- please.'" He paused, closing his eyes, then pushed through. "She looked at me, and her eyes kept changing. She wasn't human, and we'd not discussed her race, except in general ways- it just never was the right time. But I knew she was fighting...something. She reached back to the back of her neck, and cupped her hand there, like she wanted to grab something, but her arm swung back down to her side, stiffly, like she was doing isometrics with it. The look on her face was a plea. 'Please, Sam- launch us. Fast as you can, now. I don't have long.' The shock of her words made my hands move and I keyed it in. The shuttle launched, and we were away. The nav console had Earth as the destination, though it wouldn't be possible to get there without refueling a few times. 'What the hell, Mar?? We can't just leave...'"

Sam had a tear rolling out of one eye, as he continued. "She grabbed my hand, and said, with her teeth clenched, 'I'm sorry... don't look back. I'll try to stop them. But they can't get out. I can't let them.' She jumped up, then, and ran to the transport pad. 'Don't ever come back. Please.' She beamed out, and the pad threw sparks all over the aft. I guess she'd set it to overload so it couldn't be used to board. As soon as it did, I felt the ship kick into warp, until it got just below the redline, then hold it there. The system was set to drop out of warp at Archer IV."

Sam firmed up, and wiped his face with his sleeve. "I got back to Earth eventually. I went straight to the EmmGee station there, and they had another gig for me. No one would talk about what had happened. I looked for months, with what resources I had, as I bounced around the quadrant, doing work, but never could find hide nor hair of the ship- or her, or anyone else aboard. No charts ever showed anything in that area again."

He sighed. "Anyway- that's what sometimes bugs me late at night. Yer mileage may vary."

Listening to the tales, Dox couldn't tell if the chill she felt came from the stories being exchanged of the rapidly dropping temperature as she wrapped the crinkly, metallic thermal blanket a little tighter around her shoulders. Regardless, she was at least glad to find herself surrounded by friends in such a situation and smiled in spite of herself. Which, of course, hurt just a little bit.

As the night went on, the exhausted crew continued to talk. Rita shared stories of her and Sonak's early years in Starfleet from a century and a universe away. Dox shared stories of her years as a smuggler and the bizarre items she once carried on that ship. Ila spoke of some of the ideas for her more interesting inventions waiting in the wings and Sam told tall tales of riverboats and adventure.

The team's security escort, Petty Officer S'Rina, who had been quiet the entire time remained largely so as she held a professional vigil, walking the perimeter and ensuring the safety of her charges, though she scoffed a few times audibly at the stories being told.

And ultimately, as the fire began to die and the crew settled in to try and take shifts sleeping as the night stretched on, things were good. And as light of an alien world's dawn began to tint the horizon a greenish-gold, a signal came in. A Runabout for the U.S.S. Hera had triangulated their position and was on its way. In but a few hours after the dawn would break, they would be safely on their way home.

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

Meanwhile, just over a ridge a shadowy figure and her ghostly horse were keeping an eye on the group after having finished up with a plague on this very planet. She wasn't there to collect on any of them, but to make sure none of them came close and to make sure their friends made it in time. However, having heard their ghost stories, she just grinned and stroked the mane of her companion. "You and I could have scared them all literally to death with the stories we've got."

It had been late when the Chrono away team had been rescued and returned home to the U.S.S.Hera from where the Runabout Danu had crashed. Lieutenant Sonak had been attended to first as the Vulcan Science officer had suffered the most severe injuries in the crash.

And while Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox also had her share of injuries to be attended to, the red-headed Romulan lingered a little longer at her office as the Chief of Flight Control stuck around to file her report on the mission. But she was also hoping to stall slightly as she was hoping to not burden her best friend and Chief Medical Officer, Asa Dael with yet another of her medical crisis's. But after running out of paperwork after only a few minutes and beginning to notice that the painkillers from the rescue ship's med kit were running out, the Lieutenant made her way to sickbay.

Sickbay itself was largely empty when Dox arrived. As a part of her failed disguise for their time traveling mission, her usually short, curly red hair had been cosmetically extended back to a long mass of red curls that she had pulled back into a bun not unlike her hairstyle when she first joined the crew. Half of her face, shoulder, and upper arm were wrapped in bandages from plasma burns and there were dermal bandages on her right forearm and neck. Looking around, she didn't see any personnel initially as she called out quietly. "Hello?"

"Welcome to your home away from home," Asa called, peeking their head up from calibrating a biobed.

"I have the ladies regular room ready and waiting for her, if she would be so good as to follow me. .." Asa concluded with a wink and a grin, pointing Mnhei'sahe to biobed five.

Tissue generator already whirring in their hand, the doctor started with Mnhei'sahe's neck, using their free hand to deliver a pain blocker.

"We seriously have got to stop meeting like this, Min. You aren't.....taking unnecessary risks out there, are you?" The last question carried an unmistakable note of concern. Although Mnhei'sahe was prone to injury, Dael also knew she was prone to self-destructive habits in the past and they were worried those old patterns might be finding new ways of expressing themselves on away mission.

The Romulan pilot didn't need to guess why Asa was asking that. She had no delusions about her own lingering psychological issues and Asa was also her counselor. Frowning slightly, Dox replied. "No. Mudd got the drop on me in Montana. Got an agonizer on me and I went down like a first-year cadet. Sliced my arm open to bleed me and reveal the 'insidious alien threat' to the locals then put his knife to my throat. I was completely aware, but couldn't even move until Rita stopped him."

There was anger and frustration in the young pilot's voice. She always struggled to prove her worth above and beyond the requirements of a helm officer and felt like her failure in the field would reflect poorly on her. But she tried to change the subject. "The burns were the helm of the Unlucky Lady blowing up in my face. THAT I can't take any credit for, even subconsciously."

With a conciliatory smile Asa brushed a quick familial kiss to a safe spot on Mnhei'sahe's forehead and said softly, "Can't blame a person for checking though, can ya?"

Smiling awkwardly, Dox shook her head, conceding the point to her friend. "You wouldn't be you if you didn't."

The burns and scraped were simple enough to heal. While not life-threatening, they would have proven intensely uncomfortable left untreated. Tissues healed, the doctor delivered high dose antibiotics important for anyone recovering from a burn and set about gently rubbing in a soothing cream that would numb the sensitive nerves of Mnhei'sahe's recovering arm, neck, and face- forestalling the itching sensation that would shortly take over soon otherwise.

Speaking softly the doctor said, "You aren't going to feel much in your arm, neck or face where the burns were for the next couple of days. But considering it's that or itch like you just rolled around in poison ivy, I don't think you will mind. Honestly, Min. They did great treatment in the field, but you really did get banged up on this one. No more of that, you hear? We can't afford to lose you around here.....I can't afford it....."

Their voice trailed off with a slight hitch at the end. Dael was not as confident in their abilities of late, having lost not just one but three patients in as many months. They had never dealt with that as a physician before and was experiencing a bit of a lack of faith in their own abilities.

Noticing the shift in tone, Dox scooched back up tona seated position. "Asa... What's happened?"

Sitting down heavily on the nearby stool, Asa rubbed at the back of their neck with both hands for a moment before responding.

"Petty Officer Rua was found face down in her quarters two nights ago by Carrott. He rushed her here and we did all we could, but she had a major aneurysm burst, so we had to do an emergency C-section to save her child...I tried to save her but it was like her entire body was rejecting the presence of the fathers DNA in her system. Her blood turned to sludge before the end....it was terrible. If she had told me the truth....maybe.....but no, I can't know that. All I know is my patients just keep dying and I can't help but feel like it's a failure on my part. Maybe the Hera would be better with just an EMH...."

"Paeros!" Dox replied strongly, with the Rihan word for 'nonsense' that Asa had heard from her friend many times who perpetually had a hard time sticking to speaking federation standard when upset. "I'm so sorry, honey. That's horrible. But... There's nobody else I've ever met that's a better doctor than you, Asa. And I've met a LOT if doctors. There's nobody who cares like you do. Nobody with greater compassion."

Leaning over, Dox pulled her friend towards her into a hug. "I know you. If there was anything that could have been done, you would have done it. I know it and you know it."

As Dox felt her frail El-Aurian best friend all but shudder in her arms, she held on tighter. "It's okay, Asa. Just let it out."

“I know, at least my head knows, but my heart just hurts Min. We have seen so much loss of life in the last few months, and I just want it to stop. I want to heal people. See them grow and thrive.....not just die over stupid reasons like disagreements and secret paternity. Rua had a minotaur, you know. And not one of Hera’s….it’s a girl minotaur, meaning Zeus probably has been messing around with the crew. Who even knows where to start with that, right?” Asa murmured.

"A Minotaur?" Dox was slightly surprised, but only slightly. After all, she and Asa were also close friends with the embodiment of Death herself and as such the unusual was rapidly becoming quite expected for the red-headed Romulan. She leaned back just enough to be able to look at Asa in her arms without letting go. "If... Zeus... is actively messing with the crew in some way, the Captain and Rita will know where to start with that. That's their job and there's nobody better at it. But the baby... Minotaur or not... how's she doing? Is she healthy?"

With a bit of a smile for Dox’s stunned expression, Asa wiped their eyes and moved to pull up pictures of their newest fuzzy companion on the Hera.

“Are you kidding me? She’s going to make the replicators run dry she’s going through so much synthetic breast milk. We got enough from Rua to determine the formula and enriched with Iron per Hera’s recommendation….and that kid can EAT. I guess that shouldn’t really be a surprise though, she’s got a lot of growing to do. John, Carrott that is, has already brought her in to show her off as she could support her own head almost immediately after birth. She loves a good snuggle, but if you aren’t careful her little horns will poke you in the eye. John found that out the hard way. Amy, his wife, is already so completely love in with her that you would think it is her natural-born child.” Asa said, happy to report on the loving nature of the young minotaur’s new family.

"So, the baby is healthy and clearly happy and so are the new parents..." Dox said with a smile, releasing Asa from their hug. "You have consulted and continue to consult with the galactic expert on Minotaur's to make sure the baby is getting all the care she needs and then some, and had this ship for a family. I think that answers your implied question of 'Who even knows where to start with that'? You do."

Looking Asa more seriously in the eyes, Dox smiled. "What happened was tragic. Horribly tragic and I wish that you didn't have to live with that pain. But it wasn't your fault. I know it's not the same, but sometimes the helm blows up in your face and how we keep going is in what we do next and who's there to help us up when we fall. That baby has the best doctor in the fleet... and John and Amy and Hera and this entire crew."

"And you've got me and Rita and Mona and everyone else." She finished with a smile.

"Yeah," Asa sighed, shifting to sit side by side with Mnhei'sahe and rest their head on her shoulder. "Speaking of doing our best.....how's marriage treating you? Everything still roses and rainbows with your bird?"

Letting out a contented sigh, Dox leaned into her best friend. "It's good. I hope it's good. I missed her the whole time I was gone, so I guess that says something. Definitely wanted to get patched up before I saw her though. If you think you don't like seeing me hurt, you can imagine how she reacts."

Which was when Mona finally made her entrance, after having stood in the corridor for what felt like hours, though it had only been for a few minutes as the pair spoke with each other. "There's a reason I keep a medkit in our quarters and preen on you like I do, you know."

Without any hesitation, the brightly plumed Miradonian threw her arms around her mate and planted a big kiss on her lips. "It may be the pregnancy hormones, but I could sense when you got back to our time, came aboard, and got to sickbay. Weird, right?"

Leaning backs slightly, still in Mona's soft arms, Dox shot a glance to Asa, then back to her wife and bond-mate with a shocked expression that stretched into a wide grin. "Wait... pregnancy hor... really?"

Mona glanced to Asa with a wink. "I guess I get to break the news then. Passed out in the Banshee from exhaustion and found out... I'll explain that later... Congratulations, mom. We're going to be mothers and Doctor Dael will be delivering our three chicks in about... Nine months? Give or take?" She looked to Asa for confirmation, since Miradonians usually gestated for six, but Romulans for twelve, so the mix should hit somewhere in the middle, but not always.

"9 months....give or take a few weeks should be about right," Asa replied, then with a wink to Mnhei'sahe, "Just enough time to build on to your nest, eh? I call dibs on arranging the shower."

Leaning back slightly, Dox looked a little flushed but still with a hint of a grin as she chuckled lightly as she tried to process all the information. "Three? And... and everything's okay? They're... okay?"

"Everything is perfect," Asa cooed, trying to pass along calm vibes to their jittery friend. "Mona might be a bit....tetchy.....every now and again, and you darn well better give her whatever massage she asks for. So, in other words, yeah, she's a perfectly normal, healthy pregnant person." The last was said with a huge smile beaming on Asa's face.

"Pregnant... you're... we're going to be..." Dox repeated in an almost dream-like haze as the information seemed to float around her head like a fog. "I... I almost can't believe it."

As the reality slowly penetrated her thick, Romulan skull, Mnhei'sahe Dox chuckled slightly, which cracked into tears that rolled down smiling cheeks. She pulled Mona back in towards her even tighter with one arm, then grabbed her best friend Asa Dael with the other arm and pulled her into the hug as well as she began to cry in spite of herself.

Tomorrow, she would have time to be her usual, self-doubting self. To begin second-guessing herself and running through all the ways she feared she would mess up motherhood, but at that moment, she didn't care about any of that. At that moment, she knew nothing but joy.

Temporal Away Mission Planning

Rita, Dox, Dedjoy, Sam, Sonak

Time quake hits and turns the fortress into a K-7 style station, giving us the needed info to send the away team back with the quantum displacement drive. The Borg has partially taken over and Cleopatra is the local Queen.

Ila installed a Quantum Displacement Drive Interface in the Danu so they can use it to hop through time and space. Lucky is the navigator. They’re limited to 12 hops.

The Danu team comes out before the movie First Contact to stop Mudd and Daughter, before they start the Terran Empire. While they’re enacting their plan to kill the Vulcans, we capture Cleopatra and toss her in stasis while Mudd escapes. The team gets word from Lucky that the timeline was restored because of this, but that Mudd is still messing with the timeline.

Once we capture Cleopatra, Mudd hops to the launch of the refit Enterprise and tries to kill off the Hera team with a transporter based ambush.

Then he hops to the Exeter some years earlier orbiting planet Omega 4 to try and trick the crew into one of his traps and steal a constitution class starship to take it back in time to start the Terran Empire.

Final fate of Davo Mudd is to turn him into quantum spaghetti by severing his quantum link and sending him back to his old universe that no longer exists.

Then once we get back to our time, we crash on a planet and go camping.

If we need to do slingshot time jumps, we can use Sol or Bepi 113 since we have the calculations for both.

--------

Mission to the Orion woman

Jaeih, Az’Prel, Malana, Varnok

The team uses Dox's personal ship, the Khallianen.

Dancing girl in a bar owned by the Orion Syndicate. Well treated, at the very least, but she enjoys it. We’ll have to get past the Syndicate to get blood and tissue samples. And even though she’s a slave, she literally owns the bar.

Once we get past the Syndicate goons, she’ll want to know what’s in it for her. She’ll want something equal in return. Offer her intel files on what’s happened in the Artan fleets after the Tribunal. Maybe the deal is that Enalia won’t pursue the planet, considering it to be a neutral zone for the two fleets, like Tortuga historically.

--------

On the Hera

Thex, Asa, Enalia

Enalia will be dealing with the Artan Fleets with the Baroness in tow

Asa and the EMH will be dealing with medical things in regard to the desperately ill infant

Thex will be in command- dun Dun DUNNNNN!!!

The chronometric shielding starts to fail around the edges and the ship begins to internally become pieces of NX, Constitution, and Miranda class ships randomly and Thex has to bolster the shielding without taking it offline, especially around the pod, since the time travel team is depending on the displacement drive in it to get around.