A Beer After Work

Posted on Tue Apr 16th, 2019 @ 7:31pm by Ensign Briaar Gavarus & Ensign Fiona O'Dell
Edited on on Sun Jun 2nd, 2019 @ 6:00pm

Mission: Detours
Location: USS Hera, Deck 10, Ten-Forward
Timeline: 2396

"Aye, see, the implant, kay, that's a tetch weeird, but I'm kinda okay with it, truth be told. But them nanobots... they git them nanobots inside yuir brain an ya go from lookin like a ventriloquist's dummy ta actually beeein one! That how the Borg getcha. One hypo, pff, here's some nanobots, yuir just a fleshy Borg now, go report fuir yuir robot parts." Bouncing along to keep up with the considerably longer legged Tellarite woman, the impish Mariposian tugged the top layer of her hair back to form a frizz mullet.

Walking slightly ahead, the Tellarite in question, Ensign Briaar Gavarus, was reading over the PaDD she had been given with her new work assignments from the head of the newly formed R&D Department to which the mismatched pair found themselves assigned.

"Joost talking aboot it gave me the heebie jeebies." The fast-talking leprechaun was on a roll, but her brogue was fairly light. Otherwise even the universal translator had trouble keeping up with her. "The Borg scare me. I think they oughta scare innybody. They're the livin' dead, plus an analogy of how our technology rules our lives. Tis a commentary on both elements of our society that makes them 'our enemy is us'."

"D'ya take that class at the Academy wi' Professor wassizname, the one that looked like a turtle? The class was conspiracy theories of the known universe? Stuff like 'Kahless' blade is still out there', aye? One theory that stuck wi' me is that when Q was standing on the bridge of the Enterprise baiting Picard, hes's actually filling the Borg into retroactive reality, dreaming them into being as an ironic petard 'pon which to hoist Picard. Because the worst enemy is us and our technology. Tis too ironic not to have been Q joost a-screwin wi' Picard, and by default, the universe."

Sighing slightly, Gavarus looked down at her hyperactive counterpart with a smirk. "I remember falling asleep in his class. Look, O'Dell, they aren't going to be putting nanomeds in you, so you don't have to worry about that. Did you read the medical report on when they put them in Lieutenant Dox?"

Waving the PaDD in her hand as she spoke, the porcine engineer continued, "the Nanobots moved from her ears to her brain where they accidentally caused massive cerebral hemorrhaging and a series of strokes that almost killed her. Like Carrot said, they aren't even thinking about Nanobots again. They're going to put some... diodes on your temples and go from there to test Gonadie's neural interface. So no Borgification for you."

As the pair approached Ten Forward, Gavarus let out a slight snort of a laugh as she spoke, "Which is a pity, really. The Borg don't really talk all that much, after all."

"Ah heard 'em that they're not gonna, Gonadie was vurrah clear on that, fuir which I'm grateful. It joost... it threw me is all I'm sayin'. I mean, what ye said, the Lieutenant's head is a lot bigger than mine, and I dinna want massive cerebral hemorrhaging. Me head'd pop like a zit! Oh, hello, hello," O'Dell waved at a few passing crewmen who were only catching part of the conversation.

"Plus the whole 'piloting with me brain' worries me a wee bit, and yes, I did hear her that it'd be a combination a' both, but it's... me brain ain't me strongest part, ye know? Hand eye coordination is where it's at for me, an' reflexes. Mah wee noggin isn't where me talent lives, joost me attitude. So sue me for bein' concerned by a vurrah new idea." Having entered the lounge, O'Dell chose a tall high top for two, so that the chairs would be tall enough for Gavarus to sit comfortably, as O'Dell literally clambered up into the tall chair to perch herself opposite her porcine partner.

"Oh for... you're going to force me to say complimentary things now, aren't you? Your reflexes, your hand eye coordination, all of your skills come from here, idiot." As she spoke, she pointed at O'Dell's diminutive noggin with the meaty, large and wide index finger of her three-fingered hand.

"And yes, I understand the irony of what I just said, HEY!" As the irritable engineer spoke, she waved down a server who had to resist the urge to wince at the sight of the notoriously difficult Tellarite.

“Yes, Ensign Gavarus, what can I get for you?” the server sighed, as all of the servers in 10-Forward knew who the temperamental Tellarite was, and how she was notoriously argumentative.

"Just a beer for me." Then, smirking, Gavarus leaned over to O'Dell. "How wasted are you planning on getting, Sledgehammer?"

“Aaaaaach, dinna call me that! On the long list a’nicknames people like ta attach ta me, that one’s me least favorite. Aye, I’ll have a half-pint a Guinness please, and a small portion of Shepherd’s Pie. What aboot ye? If ye dinna eat ye know yuir g’win ta be hangry later,” the diminutive dame observed- not that she had any proof, but broad assumptions often worked for the wee wonder.

"Oh, I'm always hangry, O'Dell." Gavarus grumped as she leaned over on her hand as she thought. "French Onion dip soup. Lots of cheese. Side of Bread."

As the server walked away, Gavarus mock-whispered to O'Dell, snorting out a chuckle as she spoke. "The servers in here are always surly. It must be you."

“Oh aye, o’course. Wi’ yuir winnin’ personality, clearly it must be me. S’because they dinna encourage underage drinkin, so they think I’m gonna get ‘em in trouble.” Looking around, the redheaded moppet Mariposian took in the early crowd. “Ye think we ought to invie Gonadie and Carrot? I know his wife’s pregnant so Carrot might nae be able to come, but an invitation would still be nice. And Gonadie’s the head a’ the department and the Lieutenant’s gal, but she might be glad for the offer?”

Leave it to the meter and a half midget to think that they should invite their boss out for a drink.

"That depends on whether or not you want your new boss to see what you're like with a drink or two in you." Gavarus took a big swig of her beer as it arrived ahead of their food. "For one, I think it would be hilarious."

Blinking her large green eyes at the engineer, the tiny test pilot started blinking rapidly. “Are ye sayin’ that I canna hold me liquor?”

Which was when the waiter dispensing their drinks, placed her half-pint before her as he interjected, ”Pretty much everybody knows. You’ve been in here every night trying to get people to sing along with your caterwauling, challenging people to bar sports we don’t have or trying to arm wrestle people once you’ve had a little bit to drink.”

Climbing up to kneel on the chair, O’Dell looked the waiter in the eye. “Come up here an’ say that to me face!”

Turning, the waiter offered a bemused smile as he said to her face, “You’re a cheap drunk, Ensign O’Dell.” He then scooted off to tend to another table, leaving O’Dell to comically and impotently fume as she dropped back down in her seat.

"See. It IS you. Still, considering that you get plastered on synthehol, I'm dying to see what would happen with actual liquor." Gavarus snorted. "But here you're ready to throw down already and you haven't even started. So, that's a very qualified 'no'."

“You and yuir ‘lookin oot fer me career’ and ‘tryin’ ta get me not to make an arse oota meself in front of the boss’. Ye canna fool me, yuir joost afraid if Gonadie sees me hammered she’ll can me, then ye’ll be stock with some boring regular pilot workin with ye, who won't be able to stand ye,” the bitty banshee shot back, as one thing they shared in common was sniping at one another, as both considered it good-natured fun. Taking a small sip of her stout, O'Dell changed the subject. “So what do ye make of the first day? And how’s the Cherry Bomb, will she fly agin?”

"Ah, the Cherry Bomb. She is currently sitting in more than a few pieces on the flight deck. 45% of the internal wiring and circuitry was either fried or fused. It should take another day to get her plugged back together and then we can run her though her paces again." Gavarus nodded, taking a drink as she talked.

"I'm also adding triple redundant back-ups and additional short shielding. I have an idea for a battery back-up system that can absorb excess feedback charges so that something like that can't happen again." Gavarus added, with a more serious tone.

“Aye, I like that idea. Independent power source for the comms maybe as well, so’s the emergency beacon kin activate at the very least, and a manual panel for basic comm operation in case someone’s suit gets fried, aye?" The little leprechaun sipped her beer, shaking her head. “I dinna want what happened to us to happen to innyone else. I think we mighta spooked poor Gonadie comin home all beat oop as we were.”

Pulling out her PaDD, Gavarus began taking notes as O'Dell talked. Where good ideas came from never factored into the Tellarite engineer's thinking as she added the suggestions to her proposal list. "Yeah. She looked like she was going to pop her feathers out right there in the sickbay when she saw you. So, she's quite determined to improve the systems to make these all safer and..."

I'm one breath, Gavarus switched from concerned and focused to irritable again as she leaned over towards the bar and called over to the server. "It's REPLICATED food! What are you doing, GROWING the molecules one at a time?"

“It takes extra time ta spit in it,” O’Dell offered cheerfully as she sipped her beer. “It does feel like we’re doin’ something important, aye? Alla the stoof we find will be built inta later models so whativvir flaws we find, others will never see because we’ll have found ‘em, eliminated ‘em and made the craft better. Is she building in redundancy systems so everything has it’s own processor, so if the main computer fries ye dinna hafta EVA to get her moving agin?”

"I'm putting in for a redundant backup processor for all systems. We've got the storage capacity, and it would solve multiple problems." As she answered, a thought occurred and she began writing more notes. "In fact, if we linked the processors with a dedicated buffer to block overloads, we could slave the back up to the main drive in normal operations and... carry that... quantify the percentage loss... increase processor speed by up to 60%."

While she downplayed her own intellect, O’Dell did know flying and flight systems, and her enthusiasm often translated to ideas that were not half bad. Which in turn the engineer considered, which was part of what made them a good team.

“Fuir crissakes, I’m g’win ta start gnawing on the table! Where’s me food?” the lilting brogue called out a bit louder than conversational level, even as the waiter arrived with both of their dishes.

“So sorry, we had to switch replicators because the main replicator in the kitchen broke down. I don’t suppose you’d like to come have a look, Ensign Gavarus? It’s coming on to the dinner rush, so it’s going to be a problem…”

Picking up a piece of bread, dunking it in her soup and taking an extremely large and LOUD bite, Gavarus stared blankly at the server for a moment, chewing.

"Just don't get in my way and... refill the drinks before I get back." She crawled out before chugging the rest of her beer for effect.

"Don't get in any bar fights without me, Leprechaun."

“Har de har har, ye’re a barrel a’laughs, ye are…” the diminutive daredevil snickered.

Which practically guaranteed that in the three minutes it took to go to the back, diagnose and fix the relatively simple problem with the replicator, a leprechaun bar fight was exactly what was happening when Briaar Gavarus returned to her seat.

The midget Mariposian’s drink was half empty, and the fightin' Irish was being held at arm’s length by a tall and lanky humanoid. While she was windmilling trying to get a punch in, the much taller humanoid male was simply holding her at bay with a palm on her forehead, the greater reach making keeping the snarly short stuff at arm's length an effortless task.

“Ye ding blasted trasna ort féin!’ ferdin culloch aur goabashite…!” the stream of invectives was likely quite foul if anyone could understand the squeaky spitfire. No one appeared to be intervening, as there seemed to be no actual danger save some paroxysms of laughter. Although Gavarus could see one of the rather beefy Security personnel moving in to break it up.

"Oh, what fresh hell is this? Three minutes to swap out a faulty crossover regulator and..." Gavarus was tempted to just let the Amazonian woman work so she could admire her from afar, but instead reached down to grab the rest of the heel of her bread, then lobbed it at the head of the smug looking red-shirted ensign engaging with O'Dell.

"Hey, think quick, pretty boy!" As she yelled, the man looked up and instinctively caught the small roll... with both hands. Which led to a sudden release of resistance, which caused O’Dell to stumble forward. Which might not have been so catastrophic had she not already been leaning into the stiffarm, which meant that the top of her head impacted rather solidly with the red-uniformed ensign’s groin.

Slightly stunned by the impact, O’Dell staggered back, bumping into Gavarus even as her erstwhile opponent stumbled back, clutching his wounded pride as the security officer snickered.

Propping her diminutive friend back up with one hand, Gavarus licked her finger and then made an imaginary check mark in the air with the other. "One point to Physics! And I think we can all agree that whatever that was all about is settled now, right?"

The Tellerite nodded over to the humbled Ensign Hovind and over to the security officer, hoping to smooth over the situation. A reality that did not come as second nature to the generally confrontational woman, but she didn't want them in the brig on the first night of their new assignment.

The large dark-haired humanoid security officer's sharp eye studied the wounded officer who was now seeking somewhere to sit down to relearn how to breathe. Then her gaze shifted to the slightly precarious puny pugilist, then to the towering Tellarite, and she raised her eyebrows in an unspoken question. At a nod from Gavarus, she nodded back, offering a little smirk that might have been a bit more than an acknowledgment of, ‘I see you’ve got this’ as the sturdy Security officer stepped away, returning to her post.

Looking down, Gavarus motioned the spitfire back to their table. "I swear, I can't leave you alone for a second. What the hell WAS that all about?"

“He said-“ O’Dell started, then she looked guilty for a moment as she climbed back up into the tall chair at their table. Looking out from under her brows at the look of disapproval on the swinish features of her friend, she rolled her eyes. “Fiiiiiiiine. He… said soomthin' nasty. About ye and me- well, mostly you, and I wasnae havin' it. So I tried to square off wi’ him instead of joost hittin him with a chair like I ought’ve. But I’m rubbish in a fight, so mostly it ended up bein' a comedy routine until ye showed oop. Thanks fuir the backup!”

"I can't have my test pilot getting in trouble by herself. Then you end up in the brig, and I have to work with Paulson. Ugh." Gavarus took a spoonful of her French Onion soup.

The rosy cheeks of the little lass were a bit rosier than usual, and it was clear that the literal lightweight was feeling her few ounces of dark beer already going to work. Picking up her spoon, she dug into the small bowl that held her layered traditional meal.

"So, what did he say?" Gavarus smirked over her shoulder at Ensign Hovind as he limped out of the room past the striking security guard that her gaze lingered on slightly, who noticed and offered the enlarged engineer a slighty raised eyebrow and a subtle smile. "I've heard it all, so I have to wonder if he had anything good, or if it was the same old crap."

“It was... I willnae repeat it,” the half-pint harridan harrumphed haughtily. “It wasnae something I’ll repeat because I’m a fookin’ lady. And nobody gets ta insult me friends wi’oot consequence. I’m used to alla the jokes, but…” The irony of the fact that both of them would easily shrug off personal insults, which they often exchanged with one another. Yet someone else insulting the other was what would move them to act.

"Well, I'm glad you were here to defend my non-existent honor. But honestly, that short circuit couldn't try to say anything I haven't heard before." Gavarus smiled at her friend, seriously appreciative of it.

"Soo..." Gavarus added at a whisper, "I think the security officer like... smiled at me. Like, 'smiled' smiled."

“Ooooh, the tall pile a'muscles girl over there wi’ the black hair? Ye did say ye liked ‘em big and burly, aye? And she dinna bust us fer brawlin, so that’s a guid sign.” For once, Fiona actually spoke in a low hushed tone and did not look up, offering no indication whatsoever that could be read at a distance. “Sooooo what’s yuir plan, eh?”

The enormous engineer was unusually nervous as she whispered back. "Plan? I don't have a plan. Pine pathetically from afar and then sulk about it later? That's a plan, right?"

"Ohhhhhh, Briaar, me big bosom buddy, me great gruntin' gal pal. You, my fine friend, are chums with a pilot. And if there's one thing growin oop wi' six older brothers taught me and flight school refined, it's how ta be a wingman." Pausing to shovel a rather large spoonful of food into her face, O'Dell's cheeks bulged as she chewed, eyes half-lidded with a look of contentment on her face. Swallowing the mouthful a bit at a time, she took a few swallows of her stout. Straightening up in her chair, O'Dell smiled smugly across the table at Gavarus. "Ye leave this oop ta me. Cyrano O'Dell's on the case. Sa tell meh, what's the first thing ye notice aboot her. Ye got a top three, so 'tis hard ta pick, but what caught yuir eye first?"

"A wingman? Really?" Gavarus replied with a scoff, taking a spoonful of her soup and slurping a bit louder than she might have liked. "I don't know. What am I supposed to say? Her personality? I mean look at her. She's built like a god-damned Clydesdale with tits. It's like a sculptor carved her out of granite, and did it to give other statues shitty self-images."

"Ahhhhhh, a challenge. Alreet, let's start there. A Clydesdale with tits isn't exactly the nicest compliment, but let's break that doown, aye? Is it her muscles? Her height... criminy, she's damn near as tall as ye. Izzit that she's a big, powerful strapping lass yet she still takes those wee touches joost to feel pretty? I mean, she's got a spot of makeup on, which tells us somethin, with them earrings clips in her ears that might be medical or cultural cuz they ain't uniform, and that big pile of hair on her head didn't get that way on it's own. Bet it's pretty long when she lets it doown."

On a roll, the perceptive pixie continued her analysis, all while continuing to eat little bites of her shepherd's pie. "Her fingers are wrapped, which means she hurt herself but she dinna want ta go to Sickbay over it, which means she either dinna like doctors, or she just shrugs off the little stoof. Alla them muscles dinna build themselves neither, so ye know she works oot a fair bit. and she covers the right hand wi' the left, but ye kin see a tattoo on it. Mighta used ta been Maquis, or joos likes celebratin' her body, more likely. What we ha' here, Briaar Gavarus, is a woman whose body is a temple, and she's proud of it boot she hasnae yielded her femininity to build herself oop. She knows she's intimidating ta most, so she's wary aboot lettin' people in. She's big and been that way a long time I'd wager- tis why she's in Security. She gets ta be the strong silent type, likely cuz she dinna know how to talk to people s'good."

"So, wi' alla that said, what's the first thing ye notice aboot her? Fer me it's that smile. It's a wee smile on a big girl, which means she's a bit shy. Which means she dinna share that smile wi' many, and 'twere it me seekin' ta woo the mighty maiden, I might start wi' tellin' her she has a pretty smile. What else go ye notice?" Through it all, The only time O'Dell looked up was to look at Gavarus, never the Security officer in question, and it was readily apparent that the midget of mayhem was not kidding- she was indeed a practiced wingman.

"Yeah, her body is a temple. Mine is an abandoned aircraft hangar with holovid hobos squatting around a garbage fire, fighting over who gets to gum the half-cooked mutant rat they found dead in a toilet." Gavarus ranted, trying her level best to keep her voice down, but projecting a bit anyway as she was unaccustomed to trying to be subtle.

"This is pointless, Fiona. What am I going to tell her? That her eyes are like goddamn singularities with their own goddamn gravity? That I want to climb her like a frickin' tree?" Gavarus went to take a drink of her beer before realizing it was empty.

Yelling across the room at the bartender, she waved her empty glass in the air. "Hello! I know the damn replicator works now! C'mon!"

"Well, actually, taken wi' a little bit o' dialogue in between, aye, that might joost work. Allays tell a woman she has beautiful eyes. Because that means yuir payin attention ta her, not her body. Yuir nae joost wantin' a quick swing on the monkey bars, but yuir interested in gettin' ta know her as a person. Because no woman wants ta be seen as just a slab of meat, but as a person, a whole person, and as much as we pick on our own outsides, we're all scared that other people would run away if they knew us on the inside." Clearly a Starfleet Academy education had not been wasted on O'Dell.

Internally, a little touch of old jealousy flared. If Briaar started a relationship with the security officer, that would cut out a lot of their hanging out time together, which was a very familiar scenario to the minuscule matchmaker. It happened often, a pattern with which she was familiar, and she'd see more of Briaar again when it was over, if it didn't result in a long term relationship. Which would mean they would still see one another at work, and Fiona would get invited to be the third wheel, but otherwise she'd be hunted down to be the confessor, the relationship advisor, or the shoulder to cry on.

This was a pattern with which she was very, very familiar. But she wanted happiness for her friend who didn't understand women at all, and being that selfish as to sabotage her efforts just wasn't in the little leprechaun. So she'd do her best to help, like always, and hope that she might not get left behind when romance bloomed for others.

"So eyes like singularities with their own gravity is good," the pesky pilot continued. "What else is pretty aboot her, what catches yuir eye?"

Eyeing the exasperated server as he quickly replaced her drink, Gavarus took a large swig. "Syntohol frickin' sucks sometimes." Then she let out a long sigh. "Seriously, O'Dell, I have about as much of a shot with her as you had of taking Hovind in that fight. Less, really, since you've got that crazy power when you get pissed. You could coach me all day but I'd forget every word of it if I... urp... If I even tried." A small burp leaked out mid-sentence.

"What do I have to measure up to that?" The porcine engineer put on a mock-sultry aire as she spoke, "Hey, Babe. Guess where my nipples are?" As she spoke, she began circling her fingers around the lower middle of her belly. "NOT sexy."

“‘Tis nae aboot measuring oop, Briaar,” O’Dell said softly. She hated to hear her friend who had so much to offer, put herself down, so it fell to her to raise her up a bit. “Ye dinna know what she finds sexy. Tis a big universe, aye? Tis less aboot what’s under yuir clothes, and more aboot what’s inside that counts. Ye’re a guid friend ya me, Briaar Gavarus , and ye’ve a lot to offer a gal. As mooch as ye stand oop fer me, I kin only imagine the lengths ye’d go to fer a loover. So dinna ye think ye’ve naught ta offer a woman, ye stubborn brute.”

"Did you seriously say 'it's what's inside that counts'? Oh my gods, Fiona. We're veering dangerously close to an afterschool special, here." Gavarus tried deflecting with sarcasm but didn't want to diminish her friend's efforts at the same time. "Seriously though... I'm just... I'm not going there. I just can't. I appreciate the wingmanning, but 'wooing' is just not... me."

But no matter how hard she tried to pretend that she didn't want to talk about it, she let out a long groan. "I should at least say SOMETHING, right? Even if it's just casual nonsense or whatever? Maybe get a feel and go from there?"

“Maybe say hello. Maybe thank her for not bustin’ me fer brawlin. Maybe tell her she has pretty eyes. Maybe don’t tell her she looks like a Clydesdale wi’ knockers, I dinna think that’d go over s’good.” While she wanted to encourage, Fiona also recognized that pushing the irascible engineer would just make her dig in her heels. “Ye dinna hafta say innything a’tall… ye could joost offer her a smile or a wink as ye pass by, and let her know yuir interested too and let her stew on that. Ye dinna have to become a Casanova wi’ tusks overnight, aye?”

Glancing briefly over her shoulder, Gavarus lightly fingered around the edge of her lip at the pronounced bottom tusks, common among Tellarites, that she actually had ground down as much as possible to diminish their appearance and scowled slightly that they were still so noticeable anyway. Turning back to the table, glad that the security officer's attention appeared to be elsewhere at the moment, took another long swig of her beer.

"Okay... yeah... fine. I could do that." Gavarus said, trying to build herself up, "I could just say 'hello' like a normal crewmember. Nothing unusual about someone just saying hello, right? I mean... okay... maybe a little unusual for ME to be sociable to a frickin' stranger but SHE doesn't know that I hate everyone, right?"

“That’s because ye dinna hate everybody, joost fools,” O’Dell observed, which wasn’t far off the mark. “But if ye say hello, that could lead to an actual conversation, so be prepared fuir what ye plan to say next, aye? Because yes, ye kin say hello like innyone else and tis nae unusual. Especially since she shot ye a smile, aye? For all ye know she might be joost as shy as ye. After all, to her mind she might be thinkin’ who wants a great big gal with alla them muscles who’s so much bigger’n anyone else? We’re all our own worst cheerin’ section, eh?”

The half-finished portion of the small meal was pushed aside as the bonnie lass of the Bringloidians burped behind her hand, then scooted back in her chair to lean her back against it. “Whoo, I’m stuffed!”

"Yeah, this isn't 'apples and oranges'. It's 'apples and ham'. Still... I will be kicking myself all night if I don't at least say 'hello' when we leave." Gavarus dunked what was left of her bread and sopped up the last of her soup in one bite somewhat aggressively now.

"I can do this. I've got my frickin' wingman. I'm an assistant department chief, now! That's a thing, right? C'mon. Let's do this!" The tall Tellarite woman declared as she downed the rest of her beer, and in a moment of nerves, grabbed the rest of O'Dell's Guinness and polished it off too.

The irrepressible imp couldn’t help but smile. Watching Gavarus down liquid courage before she made her move reminded Fiona O’Dell of her older brothers, all of whom had figured out sooner or later that their annoying little moppet of a half-sister was, in fact, solid gold when it came to helping them get in good with a girl. Gulping down their pint and what was left of hers was something that usually happened in the pubs back home, followed usually by a nervous opening and a crash and burn they’d kick themselves over later. As this was a pattern with which she was quite familiar, it brought a smile to her face. Mostly because the burly engineer was willing to screw up her courage and talk to the girl she liked.

Briaar Gavarus was no coward, and Fiona O'Dell would ensure that the crash and burn would not be so bad, assuming it would happen at all.

“Ye go ahead, I’ll be right behind ye, aye?” The wee wingman smiled reassuringly, eyes open and bright, trying to be as encouraging as possible to her anxious engineer.

Standing up front the table, Briaar Gavarus tugged down on her gold uniform top and cleared her throat before turning sharply towards the door and the looming security officer standing next to it looking like a goddess to the terrified Tellarite.

As Gavarus walked up, with the plucky Mariposian pixie skipping along behind her, her eyes darted nervously as she hemmed and hawed for a brief second before trying to talk. As her eyes met the piercing gaze of the Amazonian officer, she said, "Uh... Hello. I... I just wanted to say thanks for not making too much out of that little... um... whatever it was in there and I also... um..."

Taking a deep breath, Gavarus pushed on, "And, well, I also wanted to say BRRRUUUUAAAAUUPPPPP!!!!"

From deep in her flip-flopping stomachs, the massive amount of beer she had just chugged worked its way back up as a massive, bellowing belch that she caught in her now puffed out cheeks. As the carbonation made it's way up her nasal passage, her bulging eyes began to water as she swallowed the gas still contained in her quivering jowls.

Staring blankly in horror at the object of her affections, she turned on her hooves and stomped away towards the nearest turbolift as quickly as she could without breaking into a run, muttering a barely coherent string of obscenities under her breath.

Stepping up behind the departing embarrassed engineer, O’Dell smiled innocently. “She fancies ye, so she’s a wee bit nervous.”

Looking down at the height-challenged little officer, the towering Security officer blushed a bit, uncertain how to respond as she became suddenly self-conscious and awkward. Nodding, the Mariposian matchmaker nodded. “S’alreet ta be shy. S’charming, aye?”

Offering a cheerful close-lipped smile, O’Dell then bounded down the corridor after her friend before she died of shame and embarrassment. Somehow this was pretty much exactly what she was used to, and now she knew what she had to do. After all, this wasn’t her first flight as a wingman after a pint or two in the pub. Running along, she caught up to her pugnacious porcine pal at the turbolift. Saying nothing, O’Dell fell in beside Gavarus and gave her some room to vent.

And after a few seconds of awkward silence as soon as the turbolift doors closed, vent she did. "I died, right? Out there in the asteroid field? I got hit by a rock in the head and I died and this is some strange new level of hell that nobody warned me about, right? Because horrible death is INFINITELY preferable to what I JUST @#$%^ING DID!!!"

"Computer, Main flight deck." Gavarus was on a tear now, ranting faster. "We're going to the flight deck and I'm letting you step on me in the GODDAMN, MOTHER@#$%ING THUNDERCHICKEN!"

“Calm yuir teats, woman!” O’Dell barked, not unlike a yappy dog, but still attention-getting. “I’ll admit 'twas nae the most graceful of pick-oop lines, but she fancies ye too. E’en after ye belched a lager larf at her. Turns oot she’s joost as bashful as ye are, yuh great lummox. So ye dinna ruin innything, and I’m nae gonna stomp on ye. S’alreet, Briaar. Ye did okay, ye were yuirself and ye hain’t blown noothin yet, alreet?” Reaching up, the the wee wingman patted her friend on the shoulder. “Y’done good, and ye know I wouldnae lie to ye aboot sooch a thing.”

As the doors to the turbolift opened, and two young crewmembers tried to step on, Gavarus barked out, "It's TAKEN! Close!"

As the doors closed again on the shocked and confused faces, Gavarus grumbled, "Deck 9... hold!" Immediately, the lift froze in place as the agitated engineer fumed for a moment. "Wait, what? What do you mean 'she fancies ye... me'? Did she say something?"

“Well, not in s’many words, noo,” O’Dell admitted. “But I told her that ye fancy her and that ye make her nervous, and she got all shy and awkward. S’like me brother Angus when a gal fancied him, he’d get all ‘aw shucks an’ gawrsh’ and not be able ta look ye in the eye. So pretty sure she’s aboot as secure as ye are when it comes to fancyin’ or bein’ fancied.”

Rolling her eyes, Gavarus flumped against the back of the lift. "That is not exactly actionable data. For all we know, she was just shell shocked from having an insane pig-woman burp in her face. That's enough to make anyone shy and awkward... right before they asphyxiate to death. AAAAGGH!!! I suck so hard!"

“Yuir right. We may as well stoof an apple in yuir mouth and shove ya in the oven, ye’re so done. Ach, ye’re worse than one of my pigheaded brothers! Foine. Ye want to think ye struck oot and spend the rest of yuir life hiding from that poor lass and hurtin her feelins thinkin she did somethin’ wrong, ye go right ahead. I’ll nae try ta stop ye. Whatta I know, after all. Ye’re so experienced wi’ the fairer sex, ye clearly know best, ye great big bumbler!” With that O’Dell folded her arms across her chest and pouted. It was likely supposed to be a cross face, but on her it looked more like a petulant child’s pout. “Computer! Deck 9!”

"Oh my gods, REALLY?! Guilt? Now I have to have teeny tiny guilt... foonging at me? Ugh!" Gavarus folder her arms to match and rolled her eyes. "Frickin' FINE! But I am not going back there tonight. No way."

“Nay, ye dinna go back tonight, Belchy,” O’Dell advised as the turbolift doors opened, depositing them on Deck 9 where their quarters were located. “Ye let her think on it a bit and figure out how she feels aboot it and she’ll talk wi’ her friends or what have ye and next time ye see her then you’ll have the chance to make a second impression. At which point ye get to worry aboot that later. For noow, howbout ye know ye beer belched at her an’ she’s still interested. Howbout that, aye?” Just like that, the mercurial midget was over it, and back to cheerleading and championing the Tellarite’s lovelorn cause once more.

"You are insane. You know this and are clearly fine with it, aren't you?" Gavarus snorted as she commented, with the slightest of smirks returning to her face.

“Well o’course. Inbreedin produces all sortsa defects, doncha know. Plus I’ve a wee tiny brain, so ye canna expect much sense ta come oot of it, aye? Joost like it take s’long for a thought to reach yuir brain ye could lose a leg and not notice til ye fell off the barstool,” the pixie pilot shot back, needling her partner in crime.

As the turbolift doors opened onto deck 9, Gavarus started out into the corridor. "That explains so much. Anyway, I need another drink after that dumpster fire and I've got some Andorian ale that was left over from the Chief Engineer's wedding. C'mon, drinking alone is pathetic. Let's get schnookered."

“Schnockered? I’ll bring me thimble!”