Called On The Carpet

Posted on Sun Apr 14th, 2019 @ 10:42am by Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Ensign Briaar Gavarus

Mission: Detours
Location: USS Hera, Deck 4, Flight Control Operations
Timeline: 2396
Tags: Odd Couple, Below Decks

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re test pilots!!!”