R & R

Posted on Mon Apr 15th, 2019 @ 1:03am by Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus

Mission: Detours
Location: USS Hera, Deck 9, Ensign O'Dell's quarters
Timeline: 2396

After being literally carried to her quarters like mop-headed luggage, Ensign Fiona O’Dell did not want to be left alone, and begged her friend to stay to keep her company.

In some corner of her brain she might have realized that her friend and partner was likely just as traumatized by their harrowing near-death experience as she herself was. In the forefront though, the experience had rattled her deeply, and while she was a grown woman… well, mostly grown… and she was a Starfleet officer and a test pilot no less, she very much did not want to be alone.

In her state of being absolutely crocked on pain meds and muscle relaxers, she was far more prone to be honest, and begged Ensign Briaar Gavarus to stay. While a rationalization might have been more likely had she not been so loopy, in this case it was plainly and simply stated that she very much did not wish to be alone, complete with puppy dog-eyed pleading.

"Oh, for the sake of the Gods, FINE!" the tall Tellarite relented. "Just... put those things back in your skull. You look like a Kandonian Wombat when you do that. It's creepy!"

Having had just flumped the minute Mariposian down on her couch like so much laundry, Gavarus looked around the modest-sized junior officer’s quarters. In one corner rested a tall upright stringed instrument that was nearly as tall as Gavarus herself, with ornate inlay and filigree that was shaped somewhat like the number 7, that looked far too large for the little leprechaun to be capable of playing it.

Beside it was what appeared to be a miniature piano, which also looked surprisingly old and battered, but the wood shone and it was clear that it was cared for lovingly. On the wall hung a violin, and beside a smaller version, with their bows hung beside them. In a case mounted on the wall hung a battered old stringed instrument similar to a violin, but the body of the instrument was shaped more like half a large gourd, and on the coffee table say an odd contraption that looked like a bellows with handles and buttons on either end.

The fore wall was dominated by a framework of wood and slats upon which it looked, if one did not know better, that O’Dell was weaving together a woolen fabric of some sort, in a pattern of green, black and yellow threads to form a plaid pattern. A completed version was draped across the Starfleet issue small quarters couch. Hung on the wall behind the small sofa was what appeared to be a crest of some sort, with a knight’s helm bearing gold and green leaves above a golden shield that bore three upturned crimson crescents over a three-leafed plant of some sort, with the name ‘O’Dell’ inscribed beneath it.



Beyond that there were images on the wall- some old-time photographs, some modern trideo images. Almost all were of a brood of gingers- some old people, wearing simple crude clothing, while some were of large, strapping redheaded lads with a child in front of them, which on closer inspection was, of course, Fiona. A few books lined the shelves as well as images of rolling pastoral hills and a simple sign that read, ‘Kiss me, I’m Mariposian!’ in simple modern font with a four-leafed clover beneath it.

The plaque presented to the little pilot upon graduation from Starfleet Flight School was hung proudly on the wall, next to the doorway, which at eye level for her indicated one Fiona ‘Leprechaun’ O’Dell to have successfully completed the program in 2394, stardate 71243.9.

The room itself smelled of an unusual earthy scent that was undefinable to the sensitive snout of the Tellarite, but a small blooming heather she maintained in a terrarium that appeared to be growing out of a chunk of bog peat was apparently the source of the scent of what would be assumed home for the small pile of semi-conscious pilot that was currently in the same position she’d been dropped into the couch.

"This is so undeniably you, you. But seriously, didn't you just transfer to the ship not too long ago? How the hell did you dig in this fast?" Gavarus asked with a snort of a chuckle.

“I was stationed a’ DS9 fuir two years, so I had lotsa time to get alla me effects and sooch. When I was assigned to the Hera, they joost beamed me goods inta me quarters, I unpacked and they beamed oot the cargo container,” O’Dell replied simply. “Everything’s magnetic, so it all sticks were ye put it, so here I am. What, ye live in a room wi’ nae of yuir life, joost the standard quarters?” The red-tressed moppet still hadn’t moved, but now she was struggling to at least sit up. Making it upright, she flopped against the back of the couch.

"I have... stuff. Just not quite this much of it." The porcine engineer scoffed. As she spoke, she wandered around a bit, running the fingers of her thick, three fingered hands lightly across everything as she did. Exploring with touch, almost.

As she stood at the piano, she tinkled two keys a few times, making a rhythmic high pitched plinking. "I hope for your neighbors sake, the sound proofing works."

“I dinna play that loud, s’not exactly heavy metal, aye? And I’ll have ye know, I’m… nae bad. I dinna think most of these instruments are even played much other than on me homeworld,” O’Dell yawned wide, eyelids drooping a bit. “Twas what the womenfolk did- we played music and learned to loom and cook and sew and alla that rot. Boot I still enjoy it, so I keep up on ‘em. I could play ye a song if’n ye like.”

As she spoke, O’Dell was slowly sliding sideways down onto the couch.

"Wait... 'womenfolk'? Really? Are you sure you didn't come from the past? Because..." As she spoke, Briaar noticed O'Dell's horizontal trajectory. Rolling her eyes, she clomped over and gently propped the still loopy pilot back up.

“I toldye, we were… the Bringloidians were.. we followed the old ways…” O’Dell managed, her batteries clearly having run dry as her eyes fought to stay open and she slid further down on the couch.

"You're still sliding. I need a pillow or something to..." Not seeing enough pillows to properly brace the wobbly pilot, Briaar groaned slightly.

"Seven Hells! It's not like I was going anywhere, anyway." The much larger woman tucked herself on the small couch next to her friend to keep her from sliding, which only half worked as O'Dell proceeded to flump onto Gavarus' pronounced belly.

Curling up beside the warm body of her rough-hewn friend in a manner not unlike a ginger feline, O’Dell murmured, “Sorry… m’joos gonna close me eyes… for a minnit…”

In point of fact, it took less than a minute for the little redhead to be curled up into a rather compact ball, knees tucked up under her chin to take up a surprisingly small space on the couch. While she did not snore, it was clear from her deep steady breathing that she was sound asleep, even though she continued to murmur ever so slightly, yet even more incomprehensibly than when she was awake.

Locked into place on the couch like a sentient pillow, the large Tellarite leaned her head back and groaned as her little friend, feeling safe and protected, slumbered peacefully.

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

Several hours had passed, and Briaar Gavarus' head was leaning back against the wall, with her mouth agape as she let out a long, droning snore. The sound was a dreadful thing, phlegmy and resonant as it sawed on. There was no rhythm to the snore as it skipped and pulsed back and forth, until a particularly loud hoark woke the Tellarite ensign back up.

"Huh? Whazzit?" She blurted out as she readjusted to her surroundings. "O'Dell?"

“Wha? Who? I dinnae do et!” the mass of red curls in the Tellarite’s lap protested, then propped herself up, looking around sleepily. “How’d I get back to me quarters?”

Straightening her neck, the sore muscles from having slept at an odd angle let out a groan of protest as Gavarus winced slightly. "Aagh, dammit. Stupid ass neck. I shouldn't have slept like that."

Looking down at the disheveled Mariposian, Gavarus smirked under her thick jowls. "I carried you back here after Doctor Dael's pain killers knocked you on your teeny tiny ass. It was hilarious and I look forward to calling up the security feed to rewatch it all."

"Feeling any better?" Gavarus added.

Holding up her left hand before her face, marveling at the new pink skin, O’Dell breathed out a sigh of relief. “Aye… me hands... the Doc fixed them. I’m alreet...”

Scooting off the lap of her flight engineer, the petite pilot sat on her knees and eyed the gruff grease monkey. “Ye stayed wi’ me… that’s so sweet, Briaar! Ye made sure I wouldnae be alone, and that I wouldna wake up freaked oot.” A warm smile played across the face of the Mariposian, who wiped away a tear. “That’s joost… begorrah, Briarr, ye great bluiddy beastie. Ye… that was vurrah kind of yeh, especially after ye saved us and all. Yuir a good friend ta me.”

It might have been delivered with her usual sarcasm and teasing, but it was not. In this case it was clear that the wee wonder was genuinely touched, and at a bit of a loss for words.

Gavarus was touched, but kept her snarky facade in place. "Please... you passed out on my lap like a damned cat! I was pinned down. Couldn't have left if I tried."

It was nonsense, of course, as the much larger woman could have easily moved the diminutive O'Dell, but she hoped it served her purpose of trying to not make too big a deal of the evening. "And besides, we saved each other AND the Cyclone. Plus I think we impressed Assistant Chief Gonadie, so that's a win, there."

Taking a long overhead stretch, O’Dell finished it by rubbing her face briskly. “Well, that might make the Lieutenant a little less mad that we kinda blew up her bebeh. I should write that after-action report… ach! Are we on duty today?!?” The puny pilot looked around in panic for a clock, or her commbadge or her uniform as it dawned on her that she was still clad in a hospital gown.

“Wait, ye carried me through the corridors in a backless goown?!?” the freckled face immediately turned bright red with embarrassment. “Where’s me uniform? What time izzit? We canna be late or Lieutenant Dox’ll-“

Holding up her thick fingers to answer Fiona's questions in order as she counted them out, Gavarus smiled slightly. "We are both off duty right now. You are limited duty for two more days. Yes I did, and it was hilarious. Recycled as it was coated in waste along with mine. Oh nine, thirty hours. ANNND, the Lieutenant isn't expecting us. We're covered. I gave our report to Ensign Gonadie. Everything's fine."

The frantic flyer calmed down as her partner ticked off the points, addressing each of her concerns one at a time until she finished, at which point O’Dell gently slugged the stiff-necked amazon on her couch on the shoulder. “Well, if all that’s the case, I should probably get some clothes on. Limited duty prolly means no goin’ ta work, so what do ye want ta do with the time?” Somehow in O’Dell’s mind apparently they were doing something together, as she got up and wobbled a bit unsteadily.

“Limited duty… aye, alreet…” Bracing herself on the arm of the couch, O’Dell held out a reassuring hand to her protective partner. “M’alreet, joost got up a bit too quickly. I’m likely dehydrated, given how bad I need ta piddle.”

Keeping her momentary concern to herself, Briaar replied, "Really? You about filled up that EVA suit? I'm surprised you've got anything left in there? Go, drop a squat and put your big-girl pants on."

“If Ah put on me big girl pants, they’ll joost fall down around me ankles,” the little woman protested as she made her way from surface to surface to steady herself as she made her way across the room. “And dinna ye make fun’a me fer makin a mess! I was electrocuted, I have an excuse! At least I dinna get scared by a rock…” she said as she ducked into the bedroom.

“Make some tea!” she shouted from the other room.

"It was... It was a BIG rock, thank you very much!" Gavarus shouted back. "Now where's her damn... here it is. 'Make some...' okay."

Mumbling to herself, Gavarus leaned over to the replicator. "Computer. Two..." Then she leaned back and shouted again. "What kind of tea?!"

“O’Dell breakfast tea o’course,” Fiona chirped from the other room. "I like mine wi’ two lumps a’sugar, if ye please." A few seconds later, she emerged from the bedroom wearing some grey tights and a kelly green sweatshirt that she was practically swimming in, which was emblazoned with the legend, ‘I’m tall for a leprechaun’. Padding over to the replicator, she shooed the garrulous giantess out of the way.

“Here, let me do it. Ye want some breakfast? I could replicate some bangers and mash if ye like? Cuz I’m starving meself. I could eat a very small cow,” Fiona held her hands a dozen centimeters apart, indicating just how small a cow.

"Do I even want to know what 'bangers and mash' is? It doesn't sound like food." Gavarus joked. "Sounds like two enlisted crewmembers in sanitation."

“Dinna be sooch a snob, ye great truffle sniffer. Don’t tell me yuir secretly a gourmet in yuir spare time when yuir nae on the flight deck?” Producing a pair of steaming earthenware mugs, O’Dell placed them on the coffee table, then went back to the replicator to produce “Two traditional Blongloidian breakfasts. Double portion and single portion.”

The replicator hummed, produced the requested dishes, and the pint-sized pilot carried them to the table to present them with pride. “Here ye go! Stick to yuir ribs food!

Looking down in mild disgust, Gavarus poked the dish with her fork. "Uh... Not a snob... but... uh... I AM a Vegetarian. Is this? Sausage?"

Tilting her head to the side, the pig-like Tellarite raised an eyebrow at her Mariposian friend and chuckled. "Pork? Really?"

“It’s nobody ye know,” O’Dell rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. “Whaaaaat, it’s all synth protein. We’te all joost matter eatin’ matter. Et’s Good, try it!”

The tiny red-head was right, of course. The 'sausage' wasn't actual sausage. Simply replicated molecules restructured to mimic the real thing. And Gavarus didn't want to alienate herself from O'Dell. She poked the tube with her fork again before cutting off a small piece. She squinted slightly as she took a small bite.

Seconds later, the nearly two meter tall Tellarite squinched her face like a finicky toddler as she tried to politely spit the piece of sausage into her napkin. "Ew... Yeah, nope. Sorry. Not gonna happen, sorry."

Shuddering slightly, Gavarus took a huge swig of her tea to wash the taste out of her mouth.

"Okay, mayyyyyybe pork sausage to a porcine life form was bad form. But now ye kin say ye tried it al least?" Fiona shrugged sheepishly. "The eggs should be alreet, an if noo else the mash an' the beans, noo?" The little stereotype began shoveling mouthfuls of the gross conglomeration with into her mouth with gusto, which seemed able to open surprisingly large. "F'gud!"

Picking around the repulsive sausage concoction, Briaar picked at the beans and potatoes in small bits.

Bounding off the couch perky pilot opened a panel to slide out a rack of PaDDs, rifling through them until she pulled out a few. Skipping back, Fiona flopped back down onto the couch, scooped up another mouthful of beans and ham to shovel into her rapacious maw. "We should look oop the officers- like the Lieutenant said."

"What do you mean?" Gavarus commented with a slightly confused expression.

"I was makin' scuttlebutt aboot Commander Paris an' that museum uniform she wears wi' the wee skirt wi' her big round arse hangin' oot," O'Dell said as she swallowed. "And the fact that the Starfleet insignia on her wee Cyclone is different than the rest of ours, like the one on the Cherry Bomb. 'Course, the Curiosity has one like hers but wi' a basketball on it. Soooo, the Lieutenant said we should read their files, to get to answer these questions ourselves. Alla our service jackets are declassified wi'in the command. So let's answer some questions, aye?"

On top of everything else, it was now nauseatingly clear that O'Dell was a morning person.

Without trying to be too obvious about it, Gavarus leaned away from her 'food' to take one of the PaDD's from O'Dell. It was a welcome distraction. "Ah, right. Okay. So, what does her file say? Dox said Commander Paris has special dispensation. Is that in there?"

"Well I dinna know, I've nae looked yet," the perky pixie replied, hopping up to take both of their plates to the reclamator, despite the fact that she had eaten perhaps a quarter of her own food. "Ye dinna care for it, an' that's alreet. I appreciate that ye tried it, thoogh."

Tossing herself back onto the couch with surprising agility, O'Dell landed on her back with her head on the Tellarite's thigh as she picked up the PaDD from the table to begin tapping at it. "I grew oop with that slop, so 'tis nae a'tall ta me. What do you eat in the morning? Or innytime? If we're g'win ta be friends I need ta know what ta feed ya. I imagine it takes a right lotta food ta keep ye movin."

Smiling and chuckling slightly, Gavarus shook her head a bit. "I have a vegetarian stir fry recipe in the replicator library I'll have to make one day. It's absolutely delicious. Otherwise, it's not that complicated. I'm not vegan, so eggs and dairy are all fine. My breakfast of choice is Belgian waffles drowning in syrup."

"Alreet, I kin manage alla that. Ye want something noow or did I put ye off with HOLY CHRIST ON A CRAP CRACKER!" O'Dell sat up suddenly and showed the PaDD to Gavarus. "The woman's over a century old! What the actual hell?!?"

Rolling her eyes, Gavarus took the PaDD. "I know you're a pilot, so math likely wasn't your... The HELLS?! Born 2233. That makes her... 163?!"

Knitting her eyebrows, Gavarus shrugged. "Which means that that would be the uniform from when she's actually from, I guess. Or when she graduated the academy?"

"Damned if I know. Back then all I remember was those big maroon monsters wi' turtlenecks ye always see Kirk and crew wearin' before Starfleet went ta jumpsuits," O'Dell admitted- after all history wasn't her best subject either. "Meself, I was partial to the black an charcoal ones we had last year, but what're ye g'win ta do. Alreet, let's see here... ahhh, there 'tis. See, seemed silly she'd only be a Commander after alla this time... trans-dimensional chronal incident... alternate self-contained splinter universe bearing alternate timeline... Spock? Nero... sweet mother McCree, the woman's history is as tangled as the leftovers in me hairbrush. Ahhh, Cap'n approved her a special uniform dispensation... hey, lookit that! She's married to the CMO, the Vulcan, wassisname... Sonak? I wonder how THAT works..."

"Well, she's almost always smiling, so I guess it works pretty damn well," Gavarus snickered slightly as she read the file. "It's still weird. Wearing a uniform from over a century ago. Perks of command, I guess."

"Aye. Ye'd think she wouldn't want everyone to know she's a throwback to an age when nacelles were round, but maybe she has a good reason," O'Dell ventured, curling her legs underneath her as she snuggled up to the large Tellarite. "Plus, being married to a cold fish like a Vulcan joost seems like it'd be lonely, aye? But maybe she knows something we don't?"

Now finding herself quite invested in the little fact-finding expedition, Gavarus leaned in closer to O'Dell. "Who else's files do you have?"

"Wahhhhhl, we have 'em all, so let's see... Captain Telvan... Enalia, that's a pretty name... Trill... joined... Artan pirate family? Noo bluiddy way! The captain was a pirate ere she joined Starfleet? How about that... married to a hologram?" Looking up at her companion, the brows of the little leprechaun furrowed. "What is it aboot the marriages on this ship? Seems like everyone's an odd couple?"

With a slight smirk, the tall porcine Tellarite gossiping with the diminutive ginger Mariposian couldn't help but appreciate the irony of that statement. "How do you marry a hologram? Can they not leave the ship on shore leave?"

The natural engineers mind was boggled by the logistics of the scenerio. "I guess, mobile emitters and... nevermind. Go back to the part about her being a PIRATE. How can a Starfleet Captain be a pirate?!"

"Hologram... ookay, Ah'm joost gonna say it. If ye want a wife who's programmable I think that says a bit abootcha. Aye, let's look inta this pirate business... wait, so Artan family fortress... we're docked, right now, at her family's bluiddy pirate fleet private station fortress! Alreet, wassisay here. Kidnapped, father killed in the process, rescued by her younger sister. Ouch. Began running pirate missions for her family, rescued Schwein- whozzat," O'Dell grabbed the other PaDD sitting in Gavarus' lap and shared the current screen on the first tablet with the second, then followed the link.

"See, she's onboard, linked file. Baroness 3rd Class, Artan pirate fleet- oi, here's us a pirate! Lookit this... Raised on a German run Earth colony... secret super soldier program, are ye kiddin me? Colony was wiped out when she was 9, rescued by the Artan Privateers. She's quartered in guest quarters up in officer country- she's listed as the Captain's Adjutant." O'Dell looked Gavarus in the eye, eyes wide and filled with excitement. "There's a real bluiddy space pirate on this ship! In Starfleet!"

"...the Hell!? Is this a pirate ship or a starship? If they think I'm getting a peg leg, they're crazy. Click down, there's another linked file under hers. Another Baroness."

Caught up in the moment, Gavarus just reached over and opened up the linked file. "Uh... Heh... and there's your chief. Baroness 5th class, Mnhei'sahe Dox. How many goddamned pirates are on this ship?"

"What in the bluiddy hell? How can she be a space pirate and be a Starfleet lieutenant all at the same time? What the everlovin fook is going on wi' this bluiddy ship?!?" Handing the second PaDD back off to her porcine partner, Fiona tapped away at the screen, bringing up a browser to consult Fedepedia. "Artan family pirates... alreet, here it is. 'A Trill family dynasty of privateers who have roamed the spaceways since the Trill took to the stars'. They maintain the peace wi' the Federation because they only hunt other space pirates, which apparently involves opposing the Orion Syndicate an awful lot. Alreet, so... space pirates."

Looking over at the blonde Briaar, the moppet-curled redhead's face squidged up. "S'weird, right? S'nae joost me?"

"It's not just you. It's severely weird. Okay... So the Captain, this Baroness Schwein and Dox are all pirates. It's says here Dox was a... the hell...a smuggler until she was 16. Speaks Klingon, Romulan and Vulcan and... Holy crap, did you know her and Ensign Gonadie were a couple too? Is everyone dating on this ship?" Gavarus wore an exaggerated expression of incredulity on her face.

In that moment, the midget Mariposian and the irascible Tellarite looked at one another, both in that moment silently considering taking their friendship one step further. There was a long pause before both of them burst out laughing, Fiona giggling while Briaar guffawed and snorted.

"It's the U.S.S. Pirate Sex barge," The Tellarite engineer chuckled.

"Mary mother'a jaysis, yuir right. Everbody's sleepin wi' everybody else on this bluiddy boat, and most of 'em are lesbians. Ye see alla them Security gals? S'like they're all takin steroids and spendin alla their spare time in the gymnasium, aye?" The midget moppet raised her arms in bicep curls, bared her teeth and growled like a shih-tzu.

Busting out in a stream of snorts, Gavarus doubled over laughing. "Oh... Oh my gods... that hurts. Oh... I laugh, but they're all my damn type. Hah!"

The porcine engineer wiped a tear from her eye. "Seriously, though. What's up with the all enormous women security squad? This ship is ten levels of bizarre."

"Ah dinna ken... okay, let's look... chief of security/tactical is... well well, tis Wonderbra agin. Look, she's oop there wi' ye, she's another bluiddy skyscraper. Hell's bells, she's the only one we've seen s'far that's married to a man. So it's not her private harem. Maybe the Captain likes her girls big and beefy, to go with the holographic lovedolly?" It was a crass and rude question, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility.

Smirking, Gavarus leaned forward and hiked her own bosom up, propped as it was atop her prodigious belly. "I don't know, Leprechaun. I'm pretty big and beefy. Maybe I've got a shot in the harem. What do you think? Get a duranium reinforced bra to hoist these piggies up and get in on the action?"

Barely containing her laughter as she spoke, Briaar was striking an exaggerated, vamping pose as she let out an extended snort for effect.

"Ach! Ah think ye might need ta start paradin' aboot in a wee skirt so everyone kin see yuir bloomers," O'Dell replied through her own laughter. Turning her back to the engineer, she arched her back and looked over her shoulder in what was supposed to be a seductive pose that looked somehow ridiculous when the tiny test pilot in the oversized sweatshirt did it. "Ach noo, Ah dropped me spanner, let me goo all the wee to the floor ta git it!"

Snapping back around, O'Dell pointed out. "Remember, 'special dispensation'. The Commander's only been aboard for a few months, and she went from a Lieutenant when she got here... open that subfile... to a full Commander and First Officer in 3 months? Maybe there's a FEW reasons she's allays smilin', aye?"

"I don't know..." Gavarus started scrolling through the files as she thought. "Dox here was an Ensign just before getting transferred here, and in less time than it takes to fart, she was a Lieutenant, senior staff and heading up the flight control office. Of course, she's only a few inches taller than you and doesn't exactly fit that 'amazon' model."

"Piffle. Top o'me head comes up to the tip of her nose," Fiona muttered, imagining what it might be like to be 160 cm tall.

"Seems like the Captain has some pretty random-ass criteria for promotion." Gavarus chuckled. "Or she also has a thing for women with asses wider then they are tall. Who the hell knows?"

"If that's the case, I'm g'win ta stay an ensign fer life. I got the hips and arse of a twelve year old boy, and the Captain dinna look like a man of the cloth, if ye catch me drift. What aboot Gonadie? What's the big bird's story? The woman's a bluiddy genius, and I've had more fun in her contraptions than..." At that, O'Dell flashed back to the dark, cold Cherry Bomb as they tumbled powerless in space, then to the arc of power jolting through her, of the pain more than she'd ever felt in her life, and she clutched her hands together anxiously.

"That... yesterday was scary, aye? I've nivvir been s'scared in me life," Fiona admitted in a quiet voice.

Smiling down at her friend, Gavarus nudged O'Dell in the shoulder with her own and replied in a subdued voice as well. "Me neither. But no matter how scared I got, I had this crazy little pixie yelling at me to keep my crap together. So, I did. And here we are, right?"

A beaming smile and a nod was the reply, so Gavarus pressed on.

"As for Gonadie, her file is... remarkably empty. No personal info or family history. Just that she's... wow... She's passed up promotions left, right and center. She even gave up the Flight Control Department to Dox? Weird." Gavarus continued.

"Waaaaahhhl, y'know, some people pass up promotion a'cuz it'll make a lot more work an' responsibility fer ye. They joost want ta be doin what they're doin, an' that's fine fer them. I dinna join Starfleet ta be a Commander and hafta hoof and poof aboot and tell everybody what ta bluiddy do. I joined ta fly, and I have. I'm no combat pilot, but I've helped dozens of repair jobs, and flown folks and cargo back and forth safely plenty o'times. And now this... the Cyclones are excitin', boot the Thunderchicken... Gonadie's a genius, I tellye. I've nivvir flown somethin' so intuitive, so adaptable. I danced in that rig on me first day."

"Maybe she joined because she could build somethin' like that?"

Scoffing slightly, Gavarus smirked, "I have just enough ambition to want to have other people to tell to go clean the EPS Conduits for once. I heard about some poor grunt who had to scrub burnt monkey waste off of one of the Runabout hulls. Transferred off the ship out of exhaustion at the last crew change at DS9. I want to do just good enough to not be the next him!"

"Wahhhhhlllll then yuir in luck! Because ye happened to call for a pilot the day Mrs. O'Dell's wee bairn was next on the duty roster, and we both hit the jackpot. Now I get to be a test pilot and yuir an R&D flight engineer. We're livin the bluiddy dream, we are!" A twitch went through her left hand just then, and Fiona looked at it with concern. Then she flexed her fingers and shook it off. "Leftovers, it'll pass. Me and thee, R & D and Mona makes three. We've a bright future ahead of us, Briaar Gavarus. Ye might just be orderin the likes of us around sooner than ye think!"

The tall Tellarite chuckled slightly. "Ordering you around is fun. I could get used to that, for sure."

Leaning forward, Gavarus picked up her tea and took a sip. "Do you really think we can pull this off, Fiona?"

There was no immediate response, but mimicking the engineer, the test pilot picked up her earthenware mug of tea and held it between both of her small hands. The expressive face ran through a few permutations that clearly indicated that she wasn't just rattling off a snappy answer, but a considered one.

"Aye... yuir a good engineer. Ye're meticulous, ye know your stoof and you're communicative. Ye're open to suggestion, adaptive and easygoing. You, my fine bristly friend, are remarkably well suited to this job we've lucked into. As for me, that mecha... it's like what I've waited for me entire life. I kin move it aboot like me own bod, in a way, and I'm... I'm big. All by meself nobody takes me seriously, because I'm wee. But in a vehicle, I'm nae wee. I am fast and furious and strong and I kin do wonders."

"Aye, Briar. Ye and me and Gonadie makes three, we're g'win ta write us a chapter a'aerospace history right here, ye mark me words. Vehicles that double as powered armor? The whole galaxy will be interested in this, and we'll be the pioneers, the trailblazers. How's that strike ye?" The merry miniature Mariposian grinned ear to ear, pleased with herself.

"I think that sounds good to me, Leprechaun." Gavarus grinned as much as her thick jowls would allow.

"Aerospace history? That sounds pretty damn good."