Spiraling

Posted on Sun Mar 10th, 2019 @ 1:47pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox

Mission: Gaia Reborn
Location: Main Flight Deck
Timeline: 2396

On the main flight deck if the U.S.S. Hera, lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox was hard at work. Sitting in the cockpit of the salvaged former Romulan Scorpion fighter... now re-christening the Cyclone-class vehicle, Curiosity by Commander Rita Paris... Dox was running diagnostics on all of it's systems.

There were three cyclones on the deck and this was the fourth round of diagnostics Dox had run in the last hour. The ships were scheduled for their maiden runs very soon and Dox wanted to make sure that there was nothing wrong. Of course, she knew that they were flight ready before she began the diagnostic sequences. Before she lay on the deck looking over the superstructure with a tricorder searching for stress fractures. Before she ran each ship through tests of their hydraulic systems.

These ships were expertly engineered by Ensign Mona Gonadie and Dox trusted Mona quite possibility more than she trusted anyone in the universe. Dox trusted Mona with her very mind as the two were mated and had learned how to psychically bond if late. So she wasn't checking Mona's work because she didn't trust it. She was checking Mona's work... Because she didn't trust herself.

In two days time, the U.S.S. Hera would catch up to their current target. The cosmic Titan, Gaia. A being of near immeasurable power that was somehow terraforming planets with astounding speed, but destroying the simple life that was already on those worlds. And Gaia was heading towards populated worlds.

But even that wasn't why Dox was desperate to keep herself busy, almost to the point of panic. The anxiety that lived like a tightly wound ball in the pit of the young Romulan woman's stomach felt tight enough to snap at the moment. Her anxiety was spiraling because it was only a couple of short months ago that a shard of the Titan Gaia had been trapped in the Holodeck of the Hera itself.

This shard could control the Holodeck, pulling thoughts, memories and even fears out and giving the substance in what she, Doctor Asa Dael and Commander Paris believed was an attempt at communication. But of the three, the shard could only create characters on the Holodeck to communicate directly with Dox, herself.

Having gone back to the Holodeck to talk a few times, the entity attempted to understand the mind of the red-headed Romulan as it tried to form questions. It was sentient, but struggled. If it knew it was a piece of the Titan Gaia, Dox didn't believe it was aware of it. It struggled to express its thoughts and fears, but the trio had deduced that it simply longed to go home. Back to the ion dark matter storm where it had become trapped in the Hera's systems. So that's where they took it.

But it couldn't be separated from the computers where it had become trapped. It needed someone to carry it so it could be beamed back into the storm in space. It needed a friend it would trust to do this with. It needed Mnhei'sahe Dox.

Of the three, it had only talked with Dox. Of the three only Dox could survive being beamed off the ship into space for any length of time. Paris, at the time, couldn't be beamed safely. For that matter, ‘safe beaming’ was always a relative term when it came to Paris, who had an impressively long list of lifetime transporter accidents. Asa's El-Aurian physiology was significantly weaker compared to Dox's hearty Romulan constitution. So Dox had volunteered.

In doing so, Dox spent approximately three and a half minutes fused and merged with a cosmic being. The experience was brief, and she almost died in the vacuum of space. But it was successful, and the shard had been returned home.

Now that shard was a part, not of a slumbering giant, but of a very awake and seemingly angry Titan. A Titan the Hera was chasing. A Titan Dox now understood could walk right back into her brain without resistance.

Hopping from the cockpit, Dox found herself buried in her own thoughts as she walked over and climbed into the crimson hulled starship Rita had dubbed the 'Cherry Bomb' to run its systems checks again. Keeping busy wasn't helping.

Recently, she had learned that there was something wrong with her brain. That due, in part, to her use of an experimental sensory flight helmet, that her mind had become artificially awakened. It was described to her like a gate into her mind was now permanently opened. While she had begun training to defend her mind, working with the Vulcan Kolinahr master, Sonak, they were only just beginning. And Dox was terrified that what had been described as a great neon sign over her head inviting mentally powerful beings in would most certainly call out to Gaia.

Gaia, who had once possessed the ship’s former Counselor, the Betazoid Avendar Jurot, leaving her broken forever. Gaia, whom a shard of had once briefly lived within Dox herself. Gaia, whom Dox had no defense against should the Titan choose to enter the Romulan woman's mind.

So she worked. She tried not to think about that. And she tried to remember what she had learned already from Sonak, hoping it would be enough. But she was so lost in thought running yet another diagnostic on the Cherry Bomb's upgraded weapons turret that even her sensitive Romulan hearing didn't notice the footfalls of boots walking up to her on the deck.

In the surprisingly long career of Commander Rita Paris, she had not always been the seeming paragon of self-assured confidence that she projected to her subordinates. There had been countless nights of Sonak reassuring her, of days spent crippled with self-doubt, of her imposter syndrome working overtime, of her anxiety simply getting the better of her. So while in the far-flung future in which she lived, very few people had borne witness to what a mess she was beneath the surface.

The young woman currently working herself into a frenzy octuplet-checking her own work was one of those people who had seen her at her worst, and still had faith in her. That, amongst a host of other reasons, made her treasure the insecure Romulan officer. Which of course meant that Paris maintained a close eye on the portly pilot, because she could easily imagine the young chief’s frustrations and fears and anxieties, even when she did not give voice to them. Because it was remarkably easy for the emotional executive to empathize with the anxiety-riddled young flight chief, as the neurotic navigator could easily put herself into the other woman’s shoes. Not so long ago, yet paradoxically decades in the past, Paris had been where Dox was now… in a manner of speaking.

Silently the old-school officer stood waiting. The anxious aerospace ace was deep inside her own mind, turning over negative possibilities and doomsday scenarios of the crisis of the moment, which Rita suspected that she understood. When she finally looked up to notice the gold-clad commander, it would likely startle her. Just how long that took would speak volumes to Paris in gauging her neurosis level of the moment, however, so she stood silently by to take her sounding.

After nearly a full minute of mental gymnastics, Dox turned to look over and inspect the cockpit clamps when she jumped ever so slightly at the sight of Rita Paris standing there, waiting. "C... Commander..." she said with a slight break in her voice which she quickly corrected. "Can I help you?"

Quite wound up indeed, Paris silently observed, but her reply would be cheerful and kind. When one of her officers ran the same test five times on the same starship, particularly one as uncomplicated as the flight systems in the Cyclones, the canny Commander realized that someone was going bananas down on the flight deck and need to be ordered to take a break.

Saying such a thing would, of course, only serve to embarrass the chief, whose self-confidence was always a delicate thing. Instead, Paris decided to take a different tack, and turn into the wind, as it were.

“So are they ready to fly, Chief?” Rita asked cheerfully. “We still have a few days until we need to scramble them, but if I know you, they’ve been gone over stem to stern with a magnifying glass to insure they are prepared.”

Sliding down from the cockpit, Dox patted the Cherry Bomb with one hand a somewhat forced smile on her face as she tried to compensate for her nerves. "Magnifying glass, tricorder, ships scanners. They are all in better than perfect shape. Absolutely ready to go."

Dox pulled out her PaDD and called up some files as she spoke. "I've worked up full holgraphic replicas for sim testing and a number of programs to test them out based on the preliminary data of the environment we will be heading into. We've got the time, so I think running some sims would be useful."

“Good, good,” Paris nodded and murmured, then she turned to eye the flight control officer. “So I have a bit of a problem with one of your pilots, chief. It seems they get very worked up over something, then try to exert control over aspects of their duties they can control, and they have a tendency to work themselves until they are no good to anyone. Any suggestion on how I might want to handle that?”

Initially, Dox reacted before she processed Paris' words. "I haven't received any reports of..." Then as she thought, she paused mid-sentence and let out a slight sigh as she caught on to what Rita was getting at. The cheerful commander herself smiled an almost maternal smile as she saw it all play out across the rambunctious Romulan’s face, as she realized Dox had worked it out already, which never failed to make her proud of the young officer.

"I'd... probably order that officer to stop overdoing it, focus on the tasks immediately needed as needed, and try and get some rest when it was available." Dox replied, with a somewhat resigned expression. "And maybe talk to someone about what was really bothering them."

“That does seem to be sound advice, Miss Dox. I daresay your command instincts are quite on point, well done. So,” Leaning against the bright crimson hull of the small and sleek fighter craft, the cheesecake commander perched herself on the craft, looking to all the universe like a stylized pinup of a bygone era. “Wanna tell me what’s bothering you, or do I have to employ more of my patented dirty tricks to worm the information out of you?”

"I get the feeling you already know, but..." Dox started talking with the briefest of smiles that quickly faded as she went. "It's... Gaia. A part of her was here. Not just here on the ship. But in here."

The rotund Romulan tapped the side of her head. "I let her in before because I thought it was the right thing to do. But now... I'm scared. I'm scared that if she wants back in, I won't be able to do anything about it."

“Knowing what you know now, do you think it was the wrong thing to do?” Paris asked plainly. While she wasn’t always direct, in this case she understood Mnhei’sahe Dox’s misgivings. But this wasn’t a question she could answer for her- at least, not directly.

Without hesitation, Dox shook her head. "No. I think... I think I'd still do it if I had it to do over again. And we don't really know what set Gaia off on this path. But, the whole time she was with me... and it felt so much longer than it actually was... I felt.... gratitude. Warmth. Thankfulness. I never felt anything negative. I hope that's still in there somewhere."

“Then my next question is, in the worst case scenario, if she does decide to visit the deluxe mental accommodations offered at Chez Dox, what do you think may come of that?” There was no mocking nor sarcasm in her tone, though her verbiage was clearly not serious. As the plump pilot tended to veer toward the worst case scenario, a little humor tended to keep her from driving deeper into negative territory. She often seemed to take strength from Rita’s casual air in such situations, so it behooved Rita to provide it.

"It took... everything I had to break Sonak's mind meld in training. But as strong as Sonak is, what I felt with just that shard was so much more. I don't believe I currently have the skills to keep her out." Dox held up her PaDD. "That's not me being defeatist, just realistic. But I've got a contingency in the works."

"Doctor Dael can monitor my brain functions. If there's any changes once we get there, I've already prepared a program that would remove my access to all systems immediately. No helm control, no computer access, nothing. If she gets in, I don't want her being able to use me against the ship. I was going to present the proposal at the end of my shift."

“All very good precautions,” the curvaceous commander concurred, then she restated her question. “So my next question is, in the worst case scenario, if she does decide to visit the deluxe mental accommodations offered at Chez Dox, what do you think may come of that?”

Leaning her head back to think for a moment, Dox replied with a slight sigh. "What I think might happen and what I hope might happen are... wildly different. I think that she might try and use me against the ship. Against you or Mona or the Captain. What I hope... is that the part of her that was here remembers us. You, me and Asa. Remembers that once we offered her our friendship and did everything we could to help. I hope she remembers that I welcomed her in once as a friend and not an enemy."

“Good… that’s excellent, actually. Hope for the best and prepare for the worst is a good way to manage your career in Starfleet, in my experience.” Leaning forward, Paris turned her head at a quizzical angle and blinked those big baby blues up at the anxious aviatrix. “So what can you do about it now, aside from engaging your ‘Manchurian candidate’ protocols?”

"I suppose normal, overcompensating me would say something like..." Mid sentence, Dox took on a slightly exaggerated seriousness, "Go to the Holodeck and practice my mental discipline exercises to try and strengthen my mind."

Then she relaxed her posture a bit and chuckled. "But... all that will really do is exhaust me and make it even less likely that I could defend myself against her. So, as of right now, there's really nothing I can do except try and relax, knowing I've done my due diligence. I can try and trust in myself and the rest of the crew to deal with whatever happens when and if it does."

"Positive affirmation, that's good. So, plan for the immediate future, now that you've realized you're wound too tightly?" Paris asked genially as she slid her rounded rear off the Cherry Bomb, dusted off her backside then tugged down her skirt, and waited patiently for the next answer in the series.

"That... I don't know for sure." Dox sighed as she scrunched her face. "Old me would want a serious drink but I'm not doing what old me wants anymore."

Pushing off the side of the Cherry Bomb, Dox looked at the three ships as she shut down their power from her PaDD. "It's not all that late, but I honestly just want to go home, curl up with Mona once she gets off duty and not think about anything for a few hours."

"Mmmmmm ignoring it doesn't make it go away, Miss Dox. But, settling in with your partner and remembering why you do it all... there are much worse therapies." The leggy lass of a long time ago closed the distance between them, then placed her hand on the shoulder of the smuggler who ran away to join Starfleet.

"Every time I step on that transporter pad I have to roll the dice, even now. It'll always be that way. But sometimes I have to do it, so I grit my teeth and I get on that pad. What gives me the strength to do that is that I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, if things go sideways, I know all of you will move heaven and earth to get me back." Opening her eyes a bit more, Rita Paris looked solemnly into the eyes of her shipmate. "So trust us, too. We've got you."

While Dox trusted Rita implicitly, she also knew that if worse came to worse, there simply might not be anything anyone could do. But she had enough faith knowing that the crew of the Hera wouldn't stop trying, and that was comfort enough for the moment to get a slight smile on the anxious aviatrix's face.

The concerns she had were still there. Still strong. But they would keep for now. "Thank you, Commander. I think it's time for that troublesome pilot to try and get some rest."

Wrapping her arm about the shoulder of the little lieutenant, the spirit of the 23rd century steered the restless Romulan off the flight deck. "Maybe a drink on the holodeck first in a nice dive bar nowhere near here? I'm buying..."