Leprechaun and the Leviathan

Posted on Sun Apr 14th, 2019 @ 10:38am by Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus

Mission: Detours
Location: Upper Flight Deck, Deck 3
Timeline: 2396
Tags: Odd Couple, Below Decks

The main flight deck of the U.S.S. Hera was bustling with activity as usual, but it was somewhat quieter up on Deck 3, where research and development occurred.

Today, while most of the flight crew was busy elsewhere, there was only one crewmember to be found. In the center of the deck stood the experimental, Variable mode flight rig colloquially referred to as the 'Thunderchicken'. The shining, black vehicle crouched low to the deck on it's two mechanical legs while an officer in gold lay on her back muttering to herself. Hands buried deep into the undercarriage was engineering assistant, Ensign Briaar Gavarus.

Gavarus was a fairly young Tellarite woman. Her long, thick, curly hair was tied back in a ponytail leaving it to stick up over the top of her head like a pale, blond puffball. Like all Tellarite's, she was thickly built with much of her weight resting in her stomach and chest. Her long, cloven hooved feet stretched out from the bottom of the craft and made a rhythmic clinking against the deck as she tapped repeatedly as she worked.

"DAMN IT!" She muttered, her voice was slightly gravely and nasal, owing it's timbre to the pig-like snout of the species. "This coupling is not rated to carry this much... COMPUTER!"

The computer responded with a chirp.

"Computer, I put in a request for a pilot to test the requested modifications. Where are they?" Looking over at her toolkit and the PaDD resting upright against it, she continued to complain out loud. "They were supposed to be here... ugh... okay, I asked two minutes ago, but STILL!"

=^= Ensign O’Dell is en route as requested. ETA To current location in 22 seconds. =^=

It was actually more like a full minute before the sprightly little redhead appeared, the crimson uniform clean if a bit rumpled, and she approached with the slow and leisurely pace of someone who had all the time in the world to get where she was going.

“Well ain’t this here a contraption anna half?” she whistled as she approached, her pace slow and casual, her hands on her hips. Petite, precisely 1.51 meters tall, the wiry-haired redhead had her hair down and loose in kinky taut curls that made her look somewhat leonine, while her slender figure combined with her diminutive stature made her look somewhat childlike. But she was a Starfleet officer, and rated for flight, so she’d been tapped to work with the engineer assigned to work on this particular problem.

“Ye called, so what kin ah doo fer ye, spanner jockey?” the elfin officer chirped cheerfully. "Ye rang for a pilot, aye?"

From underneath the Thunderchicken, Ensign Gavarus moaned audibly as she rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath. "Oh gods, what fresh hell is this?

With a grunt, the thick built woman pulled herself out and rose to her feet. Extremely tall for a Tellerite, Briaar was easily close to two meters and looked over the incoming pilot as she wiped her hands off on a rag, taking the perky pixie in.

"Yes, I suppose I'm Ensign 'Spanner Jockey'. And that would make you, who? Ensign... what were those called... Leprechaun?" Tellarite's were, by their nature, argumentative. But Briaar had the hint of a smile curving up the edges of her thick, porcine jowls.

The smile that spread across the face of the petite pilot threatened to become bigger than her face, and the small nose with the spread of freckles across it wrinkled as she did so. “Aye! That’s me call sign, how’d ye know? Good laird, isn’t the air a bit thin oop there, lassie? Seems criminal to be makin’ ye get into tight places!”

"It wasn't excessively difficult to deduce, Ensign O'Dell." The porcine Engineer picked up her PaDD and began scrolling through the Thunderchicken specs with her thick, three fingered hands.

"The shop provides ample oxygen and I like burying my head in engines. Engines don't talk," she smirked.

“Aye, but then it’s a wee bit harrd to have a constrooctive conversation, now ennit? So what kin Ah do fer ye, Ensign? Guessin' this wee birdie needs to move aboot so ye kin test the structural stressors or somesuch, or do we need to see how she hoovers off the deck, or did ye have something more oot a the ordinary in mind?” Moving over to start running her fingers over the sleek hull, the pilot began speaking to the experimental vehicle. “Ain’t you the unusual duck, aye? Nivvir ye mind, we’ll git yuir bugs worked out in a jiffy, Thunderchicken.”

Ensign Gavarus jiggled the badge on her breast and curled her lips. "I think the universal translator needs to be taught Terran accents. But, if I am interpreting you correctly, yes. I need a pilot for systems checks. The flight mode is working perfectly, but this..."

The Blonde engineer looked at her PaDD as she spoke, "This... 'gerwalk' mode has been having difficulty adjusting after transformation. Each mode has it's own configuration of how the gyros interact with the servos so I've been adjusting the..."

Pausing mid-exposition, Briaar smirked down at the impossibly perky pilot. "Oh wait, you're a pilot. It needs walkies so it won't fall down."

“Ach! I’m nae an Earthling, I’m a Mariposian! First generation since the Bringloidians came, proud and hearty though they were, and our people moved hand in hand inta the future! Joost because ye dinna ken what I’m sayin dinna think yuir gon’ta git one o’er me, aye?” If anything, when speaking of her homeworld, the pipsqueak pilot’s accent intensified.

“Soo what yuir sayin’ is our great fighter fowl here canna seem to make the transition smoothly twixt alternate modes,” the freckle-faced fighter jockey pouted for a second, tapping her lower lip. “Have ye tried installin’ a variable gearbox, so’s the torque is redistributed betwixt modes? I canna imagine when she’s in fighter mode she’s usin near the same ration as when she’s stompin aboot, aye? Mayhaps with an automatic transmission fur sooch a thing?”

The thick, pig-like jowls might have obscured it, but Briaar was now smiling as broadly as was possible for her as the thick-accented Mariposian had finally fired back at her jabs a little. O'Dell gave as good as she got and Tellarites were notorious for withholding respect unless whom they were talking to could keep up with their argumentative nature. So now, Ensign Gavarus was significantly more comfortable talking shop with the pixie pilot. "Ensign Gonadie had that covered when she built this bizarre but impressive contraption, but the alignment keeps slipping after transformation. I've re-tightened the gears and put some scanning sensors in place, but I needed a pilot to run the ship through both modes and walk it around so I can get a measure for when, where and how the transmission is slipping."

With a little bit of unveiled excitement, raising her eyebrows playfully, Briaar smirked. "So, feel like taking it for a walk, Leprechaun?"

“Waahhhhhhl, if there’s inny room ta move’eh aboot wi yuir gigantic self taking oop half the flight deck, Leviathan,” the pixie pilot grinned as she scrambled lightly up the legs of the stationary mech, then opened the canopy to literally roll into the cockpit. “Hey, ye got a technical manual I could sit on? Nae, hold on, I found the seat adjustment controls…”

Within a few seconds, the eager ensign was warming up the craft, for which apparently no briefing was required. The flight engineer who had designed the system had done so with a standard Federation configuration, and as the controls came online the pilot activated the external speakers.

“There’s a whole lot of vehicle in here… this thing is going ta be fun ta fly!” O’Dell proclaimed, lifting first one foot then the other, then pivoting this way and that at the ‘waist’. “Alreet, yuir the one what needs to study. Ye want a walk, a trot or a gallop oot of her?”

Looking down at her PaDD, Ensign Gavarus held one thick finger up and directed it forward in a sweeping motion, gesturing a basic 'route' for the pilot to take. "All three, in that sequence. A few seconds of each so I can get proper sensor feedback." Then she held up her three-fingered hand up and waved it. "Three".

"Computer..." Ensign Gavarus spoke up to the room. "Institute scanning prep for crash prevention force fielding." With a chirp, the computer confirmed the order.

"There, that way I don't have to throw you to the bird of prey if you scratch the paint on her new toy." Stepping back behind the painted yellow lines on the floor for safety, Gavarus continued. "One foot in front of the other. The floor is yours. Show me how you dance."

"Yuir too tall ta dance wi'me, I'd be lookin at yuir belt buckle," the Mariposian merrymaker remarked as she tested out the controls.

There were a few halting steps as the diminutive dame felt out the controls, and at one point she teetered a bit more than Gavarus would have liked, but quickly righted herself. Once she had taken a few moments walking and completed a lap of the upper flight deck, O’Dell moved up into a trot, the lightweight vehicle clanking as it moved, but the ‘footfalls’ were not seismic nor thunderous, as the craft was composed primarily of lightweight materials. Slowing to a walk again, she then took off in a run, having felt out the controls sufficiently- or so she thought. Coming around the turn in the ‘track’, the pipsqueak pilot misjudged her turning radius, and fairly plowed into the bulkhead.

Or at least she would have, if not for the forcefield that sprang up to cushion the impact.

Backing off- literally walking the mech backward, which she did slowly and cautiously- the red-faced and embarrassed pilot clanked back over to the mechanic.

“Ach! Now THAT was embarrasin' by half. First test flight and I try to run her inta the storage locker. Thanks for the save, aye? Ye get yuir readings?”

Standing at a safe distance, Gavarus snorted out a deep belly laugh. "Oh, I am SO happy I was recording that little jig. But yes, I got my readings."

"Everything reads in the clear, so let's run it through the transformation sequence." The tall engineering assistant tapped a hoof on the deck as she spoke in a rhythmic as she thought.

“Aye, cuz these big chicken feet are goin’ ta trip me up fuir sure if I try to show ye a proper jig!” the brogue-bearing babe shot back, before activating the controls to transform the walker mode into full robot mode. Moving the arms experimentally, the construct moved with fluidity as the pilot shifted the weight from one foot to the other. Dropping down into a squat, she moved into a kneeling position, then a plank, then did a push-up before righting the mech, moving back to its knees, then back upright again. Raining her arms up in triumph, the miniature mech pilot shouted in triumph, “Woohooo! Ye want me to take her to vehicle mode now?”

The expression on the Tellarite's wrinkled brow shifted slightly as she was into deep thought looking at the numbers coming across her PaDD. "Absolutely. I have all the data I need from your little squat thrust there."

As she spoke, Gavarus changed the subject slightly. "So, what's a Mariposian, because you seem fairly human and extremely Irish to me."

"Wahhhhhl, we're basically human with minor variance for diet, climate and alla that," the little firecracker explained as the cockpit leveled out and sank down onto the hip joint. From there, the forward landing skid extended and the arms folded back into the rear compartment as the legs folded back into being the forward and aft atmospheric maneuvering wings. "Me people were from neighboring Earth colonies. The Mariposians embraced technology and social advancement, while the Bringloidians chose to be simple agrarian folk, and keep the simple old ways alive."

"So old satellites in orbit around Bringloidi warned Starfleet when solar flares were goin' ta wipe oot the colony, so the Enterprise saved alla the colonists, who were baaasically livin like hobos. The Mariposians had lost most of their colonists landing on the planet but kept their people alive through cloning- right?" The vehicular mode lifted off the deck by two meters, then the pilot they called Leprechaun began testing the clearances, pointing the nose down and the tail of the craft up, to insure they were not contacting the deck or the overhead. Once she had the craft properly aligned, the perky pilot started the craft to spinning- going nowhere, but spinning and jerking about for the engineer to take stress tests.

Her story continued unabated, though with the craft rotating and altering vectors as it was, the sound was coming with a bit of an echo.

"Aaaaanywee, the Mariposians had built a small but advanced civilization, boot they had hit a genetic dead end, and people were staartin ta turn out weird more often than not. So they were happy for a shot in the arm from their refugee neighbors, and the Bringloidians were happy for life in an amazing world of the comfort and leisure. As we all live on Mariposa, we're all Mariposians noow. I'm one 'a the first generations born between our cultures." The spinning and jerking slowed down as she brought it back gently,. then she slammed the craft perpendicular to the deck. The craft wobbled a bit and her angle to the deck was off, but it was a very sudden halt that was moderately impressive as a conclusion to the stunt flying she'd been doing.

Turning the nose of the craft to the engineer, Ensign O'Dell canted the rear end of the Thunderchicken up to make the vehicle appear to be looking up at the large porcine grease monkey. "First O'Dell in Starfleet, that's fer sure."

"Well, I did ask, didn't I? Though I should have predicted the verbosity." The towering Tellarite looked up at O'Dell in the cockpit as she spoke, watching the craft hover with the critical eye of an engineer. "Looks like the aft, port thruster is overcompensating. I'll have to look at that as well, because of course I will. Anyway, anytime you'd like to, you can land it in Gerwalk mode."

With her mind half buried in the readings she was getting, Gavarus was somewhat less acerbic for the moment.

Unfolding the canopy from the main body as the arms unfolded and wings came together to become the legs, O'Dell moved the arms about experimentally. "There's be big goons mounted on the arms like this, aye? I like this one... for urban warfare 'twould would be a dream. Too bad she dinna have throosters in the feet in this mode, that'd make maneuvering a bit more interestin'. Boot she's got antigrav, so why waste fuel, aye?"

The ebullient ensign took a few experimental crabwalk steps sideways, then back the other way, getting the hang of the gyros and the inertial dampeners. Raising one foot up in a slow kick, she held the servos and maintained the balance, then set herself to right again, Repeating the stunt with the other leg, she started sweeping to the sides with the arms as she sidestepped, then reversed the direction, sweeping back the other way and the wee wonder managed to somewhat make the mech dance.

"This is as good a jig as yuir goin' ta get, ye great hobgoblin, boot aye, she'll line dance at least!" Pausing at the end of a sweep she worked in the kick, still none too fast, but the mech was pulling it off all the same.

"Excellent. According to my scans, the servos are slipping out of alignment strictly on the conversion from flight mode, but it should be a simple enough fix." Gavarus put her PaDD on a nearby workbench and folded her arms behind her back.

"Will you be needing a stepladder to get down? I believe the ships new pre-schools have little ones with flower stickers on them so the children will be able to reach the sink."

"Ohhh, yuir a bluiddy riot, you are. Ye sure ye want ta be givin me lip right now? I'm bigger than ye!" With that, the mech swung its arms up in an old-school pugilist style, and to her credit O'Dell managed to get them rotating a bit to simulate fisticuffs. It was a credit to Ensign Gonadie's design as well as the pilot's skill that she was adapting so quickly to the unique mecha.

Watching the display, Gavarus smirked and let out another snort of a laugh as she picked her PaDD back up and waved it at O'Dell. "And I still have the 'off' switch. Besides, you can't fight me unless I try and steal your pot of gold, right?"

Behind her snark, the Tellarite engineer was seriously impressed with how quickly O'Dell managed to get the hang of controlling the Thunderchicken. And she was doubly impressed with how the red-headed spitfire had a comeback for every barb she had thrown out.

"Pfft! At yuir size me pot of gold would be more like a thimble," the wee wayfarer manipulated the robotic fingers to simulate a small amount. For her part, she was impressed at how the control linkages mirrored her own body's actions and translated them to the mecha, as well as how stable the inertial dampeners and internal gyros compensated for her antics.

"Got to say, I'm for sure glad ye called me for this. I dinna ken I'll be on the short list of pilots when the chiefs get approved to go into production, but she's a blast to drive. Loove ta take her oot for a test drive, but 'tisn't what we're working on today, I know, But this," O'Dell spread her hands wide as the gerwalk mode mecha did the same, "This is a lot o' fun!"

"Well, I simply asked the computer for an available and competent pilot. So you can thank the computer for your assignment today." Briaar commented somewhat dryly, tryin to cover up that she too was enjoying herself.

"I'll need to prepare a report for Ensign Gonadie of our findings along with my suggestions. But I think perhaps a variable gear box might be a solid solution." The engineer smiled slightly as she added the pilots suggestion to her report.

The mecha raised both it's arms in triumph, as the compact cheerleader in the cockpit simulated the sound of a crowd going wild.

"Ye kin call me if ye need me, ya overstuffed ogre. I'll be yuir wingman innytime!" she chirped cheerfully as she transformed the robotic walker back to vehicle mode. Opening the canopy, O'Dell took the time to disengage the hand and feet linkages that enabled the fine control she had been demonstrating, then set the seat back so that a human in an EVA suit could fit into it again before scrambling out and hitting the flight deck again with a cheerful and mischievous grin.

"What d'ye say? File yuir reports and we kin goo git a nice wee drink in 10-For'rd, aye?" The sprightly starfighter pilot rather liked the grouchy mechanic, and saw no reason not to befriend her. After all, pilots were nothing without the machines they flew, and the people on the ground kept them in the air. Since the dawn of powered flight that relationship had existed, and Ensign Fiona O'Dell understood that relationship quite well.

"Well, you're obnoxiously perky, but interesting enough. And besides, the bartenders in Ten-Forward can't stand me, which is reason enough to go, as far as I'm concerned." In truth, Ensign Briaar Gavarus found she quite liked the perky pilot who gave as good as she got and always had a come back and a smile. Most other races didn't quite understand how Tellarite's interacted, but the diminutive Mariposian seemed to understand the unspoken language, which was refreshing.

And, In truth, it just sounded like fun. So the sarcastic engineer filed her report, shut down the external systems and put her PaDD away and smirked down at the red-head.

"So, let us inflict ourselves upon the unknowing populous, Leprechaun."

"First round's on ye, Leviathan!"