Beams And Bracelets

Posted on Mon May 6th, 2019 @ 2:23pm by Commander Rita Paris & Petty Officer 2nd Class 'Big Ethel' Jablonski & Hera

Mission: Detours
Location: USS Hera, Deck 8, VIP quarters #11
Timeline: 2396

Standing in the corridor outside VIP quarters #11, the chief of Security of the USS Hera inspected two of her officers. The hulking Petty Officer 2nd Class Jablonski was currently answering questions.

"How tall now?" Paris asked with a singular upraised eyebrow.

"203 centimeters, ma'am."

"Growth spurt, Doc Dael says. Like a second puberty."

"Yes ma'am."

"Isn't hurting you? Doc approved?"

"Uh, yes ma'am. Cleared for duty by medical."

"How much protien are you putting away a day, Miss Jablonski?"

"Lieutenant Dael said I should be taking in a target daily protein intake of 834 grams, with some other fats and sugars and fiber for 1500 grams of intake a day. Cuz I kinda live in the gym. But I keep the rest of the squad motivated, y'know? I do a lot of spots. Pushing my bench."

"That's... good to hear, Petty Officer Jablonski. Keep up the good work. And who's this? You're new, one of the DS9 transfers?"

"Sorry, no, Commander, I've been aboard since the security cleansweep protocol. I onboarded from Earth. Dickinson, ma'am. Cryptosurveilance security."

"Why... are you standing guard here if you're cryptosecurity? Aren't you supposed to be analyzing sensor feeds somewhere?"

"One would think," the crewman security officer rolled her eyes to her fellow security officer whom had once been described as 'a statue the sculptor created just to give all of the other statues body issues'. "But the squad is trying to get me out of the lab and into the gym more, so I'm here for 'motivational training', ma'am."

"Then it's rather fortunate that you're here, Miss Dickinson. You're about to receive some motivation. Computer, if you please, unseal the hatch on VIP quarters 11, on my authority. Paris, R, LTCDR, 867-5309."

=^= Certainly, Commander =^= the computer replied as the doors slid aside.

"Ladies, you're with me," Paris wagged a crooked finger beside her as she stepped inside, and the duo fell in behind her.

"Hera? Are you decent?" Paris called out to the quarters from the foyer.

Hera woke up with a bit of a start from her new bed, rising rather bleary eyed. Parting the curtain surrounding it, she called out. "Almost. Give me one moment, please."

She then headed into the lavatory to at least wash off her face and find her shawl, which she'd left draped over one of the towel racks for some reason the night before. It sounded like she was about to have guests and it wasn't proper to appear weary before them. She also knew that clothing was important in this day and age as well, and she did so enjoy her shawl. She wasn't about to wear her sandals in her own home though.

Having cleaned herself up some, she headed out of her sleeping area into her living area to greet Commander Paris and her guests, smiling brilliantly. "Good morning everyone. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Noting that the goddess appeared to have just arisen was a surprise to Paris, who was accustomed to finding Hera reading at whatever time of the day she came to see her. Noting that she was apparently sleeping, she wasn’t about to bring it up. Instead she called to the overhead.

“Questions, clarifications and understanding are on the docket today, Hera. Computer, please beam in Delacroix H-02.” With a hum of the transporter that Paris only slightly leaned back away from, a platter with a pile of quartered cold cut sandwiches appeared, in such abundance as to be able to feed six people. As it materialized into twinkling reality, Paris raised an eyebrow. “White wine with lunch, computer,” Paris corrected, and a bottle of chilled pinot grigio appeared as well.

“Thank you, Computer. There, that should bolster you a bit. The wine is real, of course, as are most of the ingredients of the sandwiches. Chef Delacroix understands that in order for it to matter, it needs to be real, not replicated.” Paris gestured broadly to the spread, then gave her hostess a moment to absorb it all.

Hera almost drooled over the platter of food and wine that was now laid out before them. She felt like she could eat all of that and more, but remained composed as she moved towards the dining table. "That looks amazing and delicious. Please, I insist that we dine together. I have some cookies and tarts for dessert, if you'd like, but the ingredients are replicated so they do me no good."

“That would be lovely, thank you. Ladies, you heard her. Table manners, but when the honoree tells the honor guard to sit and have lunch, we oblige.” Picking up the platter with a grunt, Paris carried it to the dining room table and set it down, despite Jablonski mincing close by wanting to help, yet not wanting to interfere. Waiting for the goddess to seat herself, Paris gestured to the Security officers to take a seat as she opened the wine. Pouring out a large glass for the goddess, the anachronistic astronaut handed the glass to her. After all, ritual was important as well, and letting the goddess serve herself didn’t quite manage the same level of offering as literally offering her the bounty of the grape.

“I’ve a few reasons for visiting you today, but I thought perhaps we should start with being up front about what’s happening to the Security force.” As she spoke, Paris was putting sandwiches on a plate. She stacked a half-dozen of the quartered sandwiches on Hera’s plate, the same on a plate for Dickinson, four on a plate for herself and a dozen on the plate for Jablonski. "As easily represented by Petty Officer Jablonski here, who seems to be experiencing a rather extreme growth spurt."

"My domain and aura are affecting those guarding me, aren't they?" Hera asked as she savored the smell of the wine for a moment, then downed half the glass in one draft. "That is delightful... Southern Napoli soil, if I'm not mistaken."

“You would be the expert in that matter, I fear,” Paris replied refilling the glass. “Yes, your domain and aura are most definitely affecting those on honor guard outside, and it seems to take root with varying intensity. Miss Jablonski here being my prime example. So, it would be nice if perhaps we had some expectations as to what to expect in this arena, as medical science is a bit baffled by the ‘second puberty’ so many of our officers are experiencing. Would you be willing or able to elaborate on this phenomenon?”

"One of my left silver bracelets has a microcomputer with data on the phenomenon if you want the specifics, but essentially those that have dedicated themselves to my defense gain the blessing of my domain and will gain the powers and strength of Amazons. Miss Jablonski, from the looks of you, you may be pushing to replace the recently vacated position of General." With a slight furrow of her brow to show her concern, Hera began eating her first sandwich, delight washing over her at the flavor and sensation washing through her. "Oh... This is heavenly..."

“Chef Delacroix outdoes himself quite often, and he knew what he was being asked to prepare this time. Genuine cold cuts, real fermented cheese, fresh baked bread from whole grains. So while it is a supernatural effect, it is one that has no ill side effects, save larger uniforms and a heartier appetite?” Paris asked, trying to direct the conversation to reassure the women of the Security force, whom had definitely been noticing the difference. As for Rita, while she’d gladly parse the scientific data, she was hoping Hera could offer some reassurance that the phenomenon was benign.

Hera chuckled softly as she munched on a sandwich. "It's as supernatural as gravity. You're guarding me so you have my blessing, which means you and others will be naturally... More super... Stronger, faster... But in a perfectly healthy way."

"Petty Officer Jablonski, do you have any questions about all of this? Here's your opportunity to ask, whatever's on your mind." The gold-clad commander encouraged the enlisted officer to speak. Who in turn furrowed her brow, then looked at Hera.

"Thanks." The polish kid from Oregon who was now able to bench 620 kilos smiled and nodded at the goddess, and in that moment Dickinson spoke up.

"I have a great number of questions about all of this, and some of them seem reasonably urgent!" the somewhat frantic programmer insisted. "Ma'am, Commander, do we have a... a cult on this ship?"

Standing there with a bottle of wine she'd been offering to the goddess, Paris' eyebrows rose in the middle. "It seems, a bit... yes. We're ferrying Hera toward whatever destiny has in store for her, and her presence creates certain... effects. Which in part is why I am here, to address that. And copies of those specifics for Sickbay would be most appreciated by Dr Dael." The lost navigator steered the course back to the factual.

It was clear that Dickinson was marshaling her thoughts to determine how best to express her conflicts with all of what she was processing.

"If you do not wish for the blessing, then it will be so," Hera replied, finishing off her first sandwich. "Simple as that. And if it helps to think of me as a more evolved alien being that happened to play act as a goddess on many different worlds, then please feel free to do so. The closest you could pronounce my race's name is Ambrosian."

"So... an alien life form-" Dickinson started, and Paris interrupted.

"Miss Dickinson, where are you from?" Paris asked even as she produced a PaDD to look it up.

"What do you mean? I was born of Turogar, in the Llanth system. I'm human."

"No, you're a Torogarian human. Slightly different gravity, air balance... things we adapt to, because that's one of humanity's gifts- we're surprisingly adaptable. But in doing so you vary from the basic model human. Martians are different than earthlings, even in minor differences. That is the diversity of the universe, Miss Dickinson. No one is an alien. We are all citizens of the galaxy. Either everyone is an alien or no one is seems overly simplistic, but try it out."

"Point being, Hera is a life form, yes. Try to not literally alienate the concept of such infinite diversity in infinite combinations quite so quickly," Paris tried to soften her delivery to make it less of a dressing down.

"So I can't even get my first point across without an interruption, a correction, a speech and a rebuke with presumptions to my spirituality?" Dickinson was worked up, and she was giving vent to it since in theory the floor was open. "This seems less Starfleet, more like you are defending her and can't see why this all might be not the best of ideas. Does the Captain know about this? Does Starfleet Command?"

"The Captain knows, yes. I file regular reports, which will include this exchange right here, straight to the admiralty." It might have been a threat, it might have been a simple admission of the facts. Commander Paris was smiling either way. "Hera is a guest of the Captain's, a consultant on forces we've had to face, and she's saved quite a few lives. In return she has asked for nothing. Well, she asks the ship's library to give her books, but other than that, honestly pretty selfless. Hers is a tale of redemption, Miss Dickinson. The reports are available and you have the clearance to read the files. On an Intel ship, we are all sharing secrets we will have to keep later- but for now, we share the truth with one another."

"By all means, do your research and make your own decisions, Miss Dickinson. Make them informed decisions is all that I ask." Paris sat up a bit straighter. "Lecture over or have you more objections to raise, Miss Dickinson?"

"I request permission to continue this discussion after time for research?" the cryptosurveilance analyst asked, which received a nod to the affirmative. Satisfied, Dickinson eyed the sandwiches in front of her, debated internally, then gingerly picked one up to sniff it before taking a bite.

"I like guarding your door."

All heads turned as the somewhat hulking form who had finished all of her sandwiches began to uncharacteristically express herself. I'm glad the Commander takes you out for walks and lets us escort you to functions and stuff. When we came aboard she told us we were your honor guard, and that sounded... y'know, noble. Some of the girls think it's dull, but it's... zen, y'know?" It was perhaps the longest sentence heard out of Jablonski since she'd come aboard back on Earth that did not involve gym or work talk. Apparently being in the moment meant that that she felt free to express herself. Right here and now, she was speaking specifically to the goddess whose gifts she received, for which she was grateful.

Blessed are the faithful, after all.

The matronly goddess smiled brightly as she addressed Jablonski. "And I feel safe with you nearby. Thank you for your service. You know, you remind me so much of my first Amazon protector growing up, Kydio. For over eight hundred years she watched over me as you do now. Another hand taller and you'll be a match for her, I think."

At that, Jablonski sat up a bit straighter and blushed. Despite her physique, she was a quiet and somewhat bashful type, and praise from the goddess made her feel good, and while she didn't have the words, she nodded respectfully to her charge.

Hera then turned to Rita and placed one hand on the Commander's. "Would it be too much to ask to be able to gift her a pair of wristbands? If you have a pair stashed away for study, that is. If not, I understand."

"Funny you should mention," Rita replied, rolling up her uniform sleeve to reveal a pair of intricately carved bronze bracers. "We have some of these that we collected from the Amazons of Meroset 347. I'm interested in employing them in a few venues, but I was hoping you might be able to shed some light and explain their workings a bit before I go around issuing them to Starfleet personnel?"

"Of course," replied the matronly goddess with a motherly smile. "The left one with the moon will project a small personal shield when you flex your forearm just right and the right one with the sun is designed with a quantum pocket for storing items in like weapons or preserved food. There's no real security on them other than knowing how to operate them."

"Fascinating," Rita Paris replied. "How do they function... by which I mean, what are the physics involved, and how were they forged?"

"The local craftsmen forged the bracers and only the most masterful were selected. Then the Amazons embedded sub-quantum projectors into the underside. The shield is a thin film transparent neutronium simulacrum which should be impervious to all but your most powerful weapons." As Hera spoke, she reached for a pencil and pad of paper she kept on the table for just these situations and started jotting down diagrams and notes. The notes were all written in a precise and clean ancient Greek... but they were notes and basic schematics, nonetheless.

As she continued her explanation, Hera nibbled on another sandwich. "The size is limited to about one meter tall by half a meter wide at most, but most projectors are significantly smaller. The other one uses a null space dimensional displacement drive to store items in fourth dimensional space. There's a bit of a trick to sending and receiving items, but once you get it down, it's not hard. It can store up to about twenty stones of gear. Ah, but time passes normally and there's no air, so... No living things and nothing that will spoil. As for the power cells, they draw from null space so they should last forever as long as they don't go more than around eight hundred thousand light years from any sun in this galaxy."

The casual explanation of the metaphysics of which, apparently, were contained in the bracers the Commander was modelling which were extradimensional weapons locker and a personal shield was exciting, confusing and surprising to Petty Officer Jablonski. Outwardly her eyes were wide, and she was just taking in the exchange, hunched in a bit to try to make out what Hera was laying out on paper.

With that said, the buxom blonde bombardier stood from her chair, stepped back to have some clearance, and pictured in her mind the circular shield she'd first seen an Amazon manifest. It had been encircled in patterns and Greek characters that glowed in a faint ghostly outline until struck, when they flared to life. Rotating her wrist and flexing the muscles of her left forearm, a shield of the same size and proportion as the one she'd first seen on Meroset 347 sprang into being.

"There's a game changer," Paris muttered as she reached over to tap the energy construct with her right hand. As she did do, the shield flared into greater visibility oh so briefly before subsiding. Focusing on the shape and size, the curvaceous commander flexed her muscles and rotated her wrist, and in short form figured out how to form from a kite shield to a very small buckler. Looking at Hera, Paris nodded. Not fueled by belief nor anything beyond advanced science. This might just be historically significant, Hera- thank you."

"Ah, well, Please don't reproduce it or anything. And keep it safe. It has quite a few of my people's secrets in it and there are so few of us to begin with. Unlike the Asgardians, there are no 'common' Ambrosians, hence why we tend towards the more worshipful side of things, I think..." Hera looked a bit sheepish at that. "Anyway, you are very welcome. Please test the other one and see if a sword was left in it, if you don't mind."

With that Paris cocked an eyebrow, flexed her wrist and forearm as if she were grabbing a weapon, and a crude bronze gladius appeared in her hand. "And of course I just know how to use them, because that's part of your aura. Miss Jablonski, you are going to be the test case for these. I want you to get hooked up for constant biomonitoring, then I want you to give these a workout and see what they can do, while we monitor your system to determine of they are safe for the crew to wear. If, that is, you are willing to volunteer to test them. In good conscience, I can't order you to do something like this."

The large mass of muscle in the tight gold uniform sat up straight- which, Paris noted, said uniform had not been that tight when she'd walked in the door. Or maybe it was the way she was sitting- hard to be sure. But her strong chin rose and with a pride not seen before on the humble Security officer's face, she looked at the Commander.

"I volunteer, ma'am. I'd be honored," She then looked back down at Hera.

"See? THIS is the sort of thing I'm talking about!" Dickinson objected. "Does no one see anything impropriotous about this? Would Picard have let this go on on the Enterprise?!?"

"The testing of advanced technology shared with us by one of the last survivors of an ancient civilization that could revolutionize extradimensional space access as well as being the key to an alternative energy in null space power cells? Yes, Miss Dickinson... I think he would proceed in a measured and careful manner, but he would not turn a blind eye to the possibilities he had discovered," Paris responded, making a mental note to look up whoever Picard was later. "Time for research was the request as I recall?"

The dubious Dickinson, retreated, holding up her hands in surrender as she resolved to dig deeper into this particular religious cult on the starship which she served.

"Picard... I know that name..." Hera mused softly, searching her memories. "Oh, some of the best wines Dionysus ever gifted me was from a small Mediterranean vintner named Picard. Has the family survived?"

Picking up her discarded PaDD from the table, Paris tapped at it until her eyebrows rose slightly. “Apparently it has… Picard wineries. Also related to a starship captain of note it seems…” Glancing over the PaDD at the expression of disbelief on Dickinson’s face, Paris rolled her eyes. “Look, I’m still catching up on 130 years of history. You couldn’t service a duotronic panel if your life depended on it, so try not to judge me too harshly for not knowing the breadth of history I skipped, Miss Dickinson? You time travel and see how quickly you catch up while serving as first officer of a trouble magnet starship.”

"Skepticism is healthy for you. After all, I might suddenly fly off the handle and try to go after my husband's illegitimate kids at any moment again." Hera's mood darkened drastically at that moment. "Especially if I ever see that no good, cheating, son of a bitch or any of his rotten crotch spawn again..." She quickly brightened back up after that though. "But anyway, I consider you all family now and I just want to help you as best I can."

“HA HA HA such a kidder,” Paris overcompensated. “Yeah, we’ll leave your philandering husband who hasn’t shown his face in any of the crisis that we’ve faced in the past few months out of this, since I’m sure neither he nor any of his illegitimate children are anywhere to be found, considering there’s trouble afoot. Although you do raise a valid point- skepticism is indeed healthy. I was more than skeptical when we brought Hera aboard, but she’s not who she was, and she’s worked very hard to reform and be a patron goddess whose name we can be proud to bear on the hull. By all means, miss Dickinson, be as skeptical as yo7u like, and do your research and draw your own conclusions.”

“As for you, Petty Officer Jablonski, anything to add?” Paris asked, feeling it was time to bring this particular discussion to a close.

“I won’t let you down, ma’am,” the hulking petty officer replied, nodding to both Paris and Hera in turn.