Cleaning Crew

Posted on Tue May 21st, 2019 @ 10:50pm by Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus

Mission: Fractured Fairy Tales
Location: Deck 9. Briaar Gavarus' Crew Quarters
Timeline: 2396

While engineering assistant Ensign Briaar Gavarus was skilled at her job, she was far from the ideal Starfleet Officer. She was sarcastic, confrontational, rude, overweight and something of a literal and figurative pig in some ways.

As a Tellarite, she of course resembled a two-meter, 180 kilogram humanoid pig. Her face sported a porcine snout and shaved down lower tusks that she tried to conceal. Her wiry platinum blond hair was always pulled back which just drew more attention to her slightly floppy ears and her thick, three-fingered hands were capped off with dense gray nails that were essentially dexterous hooves, not unlike her cloven feet.

But another way that she was a pig was in how she maintained her small, junior officer quarters on Deck 9. They were a tremendous mess, with upturned cargo crates used as makeshift end tables, clothes, and tools strewn about and a closet packed to bursting with a mess of unfolded clothes. And it was this particular mess that was coming back to bite the porcine young ensign in her prodigious, curly-tailed pig butt.

Junior officer’s quarters, like any other, were subject to quarterly inspections. And the day before, Gavarus had forgotten about the inspection due to the weight of her workload and failed to even pretend to tidy her living space. As such, she was now given extra assignments cleaning the Matter Reclaimators on all common areas. It was a series of disgusting tasks Gavarus wasn't looking forward to. But she was looking forward to her more immediate task even less.

She had until the start of her shift the next morning to bring her quarters back up to snuff. And she knew this upcoming inspection was going to be especially meticulous. Standing in the center of her quarters, surrounded by grease-covered engine parts she had been working on atop a large drop-cloth spread out on the floor, wearing a pair of grimy cargo pants and a one-size too small black t-shirt with the word "HERA" emblazoned in gold across the chest, she sighed and cursed at her task. "Gods frickin' dammit! I should just have the whole room beamed into space and start over."

Which was when the door chime rang. As no one ever visited the abrasive engineer and inspectors didn’t ring the chime, that only left one person it could possibly be darkening her door.

“Computer, open hatch,” she grunted, and as the door slid open, in bounced the irrepressible Fiona O’Dell. The midget Mariposian was wearing her hair tightly braided in intricate swirls about her head, although it was a far cry from her usual mop of curls she wore down and loose, or lightly tied back. As such, she looked as though she had lost a dozen kilos of mass. Wearing a pair of black lycra bike shorts that stretched to her knobby knees and a loosely-fitting emerald sweatshirt that bore the simple legend ‘STEREOTYPE’, she grinned at her porcine pal as she kept her hands behind her back.

“Whatcha doin' Briiiiiiiiaar?” she asked cheerfully. While she tended to be in a state of perennially good cheer, the little lass was sarcastic and smart, and was quick to turn scorn and derision upon those she deemed foolish. Which was part of the reason she and Gavarus got along so well.

"What the hell does it look like I'm doing? I'm an Officer on a Starship and I was sent to clean my room by my space Mommy. Because that's a vital function of starship frickin' operations!" Gavarus griped as she waved her arms around in protest.

Then she cocked an eyebrow, noting O'Dell's suspicious behavior. "What are you... what are you hiding, Leprechaun?"

"Ah heard they stuck ye in the gulag of yuir own mess, so I came ta help! And I brought bitters!" Swinging it around from behind her, O'Dell held out her hand to set the six-pack of bottled beer upon it like a presenter, eyes wide and bright and a cheery smile in place.

Taking the six pack and placing it on the cluttered kitchenette counter, Gavarus pulled out two bottles, handing one to O'Dell and taking a long drink of her own. "Thanks."

"Cheers!" O'Dell accepted the beer and took a little swig, smacking her lips at the taste. "Fuir the record, the inspection's are mostly because tis a fire hazard for alla this clutter nae ta be maintained, and we dinna need inny 'a that. Plus, it helps encourage proper hygiene and discipline... what? I had a messy roomie in the Academy and flight school, drove me bonkers! Y'see me quarters- foola crrap boot tis all clean an' tidy!"

"It's still nonsense. Fire suppression shielding takes care of all of that. It's just some inane military holdover. It's got noting to do with how I do my... OW!" Stepping over to the.couch, Gavarus stumbled over an errant piece of a discarded warp coil on the floor.

"No comments from the peanut gallery!" She grumbled, making Fiona's point for her.

"Well, ye kin bellyache aboot it all ye want, boot either ye straighten oop yuir act or ye'll be gittin transferred to some shittier assignment. And I'll have nunna that! Not my mechanic they don't!" The feisty little warp jockey shadow boxed, which looked ridiculous somehow. "So! Where do we start? Pickin' oop alla the shite offa the floor?"

Pacing around with her beer, Gavarus gestured to the collection of assorted parts on the drop cloth and griped. "This isn't shit, Fee! They were going to recycle all this in the replicator and it's all still good. That could just needs to be resurfaced and that coupling is just..."

Stopping herself, Gavaurs slumped and sighed. "Okay, it's all shit. But I like messing with it."

"Wait, hold on a tetch. There's nae reason ye canna have yuir trools and projects an' doodads. If ye hurl 'em inta the replicator, it'll spit 'em back out joost like when ye threw 'em in. But even if ye don't like that idea, look aboot! Ye kin have a wardrobe in the room, and ye dinna. Ye can have a footlocker, and ye dinna. Ye kin have a folding closet, and ye dinna. Yuir nae takin advantage of yuir storage potential, aye?" O'Dell apparently knew the regulations well. All of the accessories she had ticked off were present in her own bricabrac quarters, covered in shawls and tapestries and framed magnetic images.

"Okay, soooo... Footlocker? Like... What? Like a Footlocker I can put here, like in front to the couch that can double as a table so I can keep the stuff in there but have it to work on when I want it?" Gavarus tried sussing out Fiona's idea. The collection of engine parts and assorted junk was her junk and she wanted to keep working on it when she wanted to.

"Exactly! So ye kin keep yuir crap, an' have it oot when ye want but ye have it all poot away and tidied when inspection times comes. S'how ye survive military inspection, Briaar- ye stoof it all oota sight!" Fiona took another sip of her beer, gesturing at the mess as she did so. "Order 'em from the quartermaster and ye kin even have 'em beamed into yer quarters- all it costs is matter rations, and ye were only g'win ta spend that on beer innyhow."

Chucking as she took a swig, Gavarus replied with a smirk. "Well, at least with beer, I give some if that back to the reclamator."

"I guess in the mean time, we need to replicate up some bins to put shit in or something. Ugh." Gavarus groaned as she stepped over to the wall mounted computer console to order up a stack of large storage bins to make their job easier.

After a few seconds, a stack of five green plastic storage bins shimmered into existence in the corner of the room. "Well, that represents a few beers. You said you were here to help, so..."

"Aye! Let's pick up yuir crap!" O'Dell beamed, perfectly happy to help. "Noow, we kin do this the right way and sort everything oot, or we can just toss it inta bins to git it oot'a the way fuir now. One joost means a faster mess agin but easy clean-up noow, the other means it'll be easier ta keep it clean. What'll it be?"

It was odd to hear O'Dell being the responsible one, but in this, she was clearly experienced. Her quarters were, after all, always squared away. And in explaining it to her big round shipmate, the spindly star pilot sounded oddly maternal- clearly she was channeling her own mother for this exercise.

"Yay! Another Space Mommy." Gavarus rolled her eyes sarcastically, grinning at O'Dell. "Okay, I'll bin up the spare parts here if you want to start... I dunno.... On that corner."

As she spoke, the tubby Tellarite waved over at a towering pile of crap in the corner near the door to the bed chamber. An assortment of old magazines, used PaDD's, coffee cups, random clothes and nonsense that was nearly as tall as the diminutive Maraposian marvel, who immediately began tearing into it.

Replicating a trash bag big enough for her to fit into, O’Dell opened it up on top of a pile of boxes on the floor, then began separating the mountain into three piles- clothes, garbage and ‘debatable’. As she made her decisions, all of the uniforms parts were going into the trash heap, although she did pause to pull off Gavarus’ comm badge. The magazines were tossed on the ‘debatable’ pile, while the coffee cups, plates, utensils and odd spare parts all went into the bag. As she collected the dozen of flimsies in the stack, she piled those with the magazines, while gavarus’ civilian clothes were rapidly making a pile of their own. As she went through them, O’Dell held up a pair of panties that were far too big for her diminutive frame, but far too small for that of her porcine pal.

“Ah, ye been havin guests over Briaar?” O’Dell asked, holding up the pale pink panties of mystery?

In the center of the room Gavarus was grunting as she bent over, a considerable effort with her prodigious paunch in the way, while putting the machine parts in a bin for storage. As O'Dell began waving the panties, her face flushed beat red with embarrassment.

"What?! NO!" Gavarus reached over and snatched up the undergarments and tossed them in the trash bag. "So I've gained a little weight since transferring. So what?"

“Oi! Dinna ye be bellowin’ a’ me, eh? I’m nae the one eatin a donut while yuir partner’s runnin on the treadmill!” O’Dell snapped back. “Ye done failed yuir room inspection, so I’m helpin’. If ye canna fit inta yuir bloomers, maybe ye should think aboot that too, aye?”

"Fine! Sorry." Gavarus took a swig of her beer and finished putting the machine parts into the bin, putting the tarp over the top of everything. Closing the top of the bin, she tried to pick it up but it was far too heavy with all the heavy engine components, so she scootched it over against the far wall and out of the way. "It's just annoying, ya'know? I mean, it's all just such nonsense. It has nothing to do with my job and..."

Rolling her eyes, even Gavarus realized she was sounding like a broken record at this point. "Okay... enough of that. I'm starting to get on my OWN nerves. So, do you need any help with that shit?"

“Sure. Are these magazines for the keep or pitch pile?” O’Dell held up a magazine, which promptly fell open to reveal a trifold pin-up of an exotic and beautiful Bajoran woman who looked like she could bench press a starship.

For an instant, Gavarus' eyes went wide before she remembered who she was talking to. Letting out a snort of a chuckle, she raised an eyebrow at her diminutive partner-in-crime and flatly replied, "Keep pile."

"Ach, yuir a dirty prevert. We'll stack 'em oop an' alphabetize 'em before we stoof 'em in yuir footlocker where all the porn belongs. Under ya stripey socks an' garters." the little lass kept at the pile, sorting reasonably smoothly as she went, tossing more and more debris into the garbage bag.

"F'r crissakes, how do ye even have a matter allowance? Alla this crap is better off not bein' crap on yuir deck, ye ken?" At that, O'Dell stood up straight and froze, then slowly turned around with a horrified expression on her face. "Blessed lady virgin, I sound like a bluiddy officer. Where's me beer?"

"Ha!" Gavarus snorted as she handed O'Dell her beer from the makeshift end table. "You ARE an Officer, Ensign Space Mommy. Drink up."

Walking over, Gavarus grabbed the stack of incriminating magazines to put away in one of the bins. "Okay... Realistically, this is all garbage here." She gestured to the small kitchenette counter. "So, we can move to the Bedroom and you'll get to see where the magic never happens."

"Well if it's garbage then sweep it all inta that bag, ye great goggle-eyed slackjaw! Tis the point- we're nae doin it laaaater, we're doin' it nooooow." As she griped, O'Dell grabbed the bag and brought it over to the edge of the counter so Gavarus could sweep the entire counter clear in one swipe.

As she did, she scoffed at O'Dell. "Wait, 'Great goggle-eyed slack jaw'?" Pushing the assorted trash into the bag, Gavarus flinched slightly. "Ooh, fork. Ow... Where do you pull that shit from? I swear, its like I skipped a class at the academy in archaic, weird-ass insults, you... Wiggle-faced woozle. Yeah, see. I don't got it."

Chuckling as she talked, Gavarus shrugged. "Okay... We're making some frickin' progress."

"Oh, I dunno. 'Woozle-faced wizzle' is nae too far off the road. Aye, see? This ain't s'bad! Now howbout you fetch that stack of food containers doown there and toss 'em in here, cuz I'm too wee and frail ta be exposin' meself ta that high a concentration of hazardous bacteriological waste. After that we move to that pile a'clothes, cuz it's time to get honest an' chuck some that dinna fit, hmmm?" O'Dell took a half-step back at that. "What? I'm not bein' mean, jooost nae point in clothes that don't fit when yuir wardrobe kin be stored in yuir replicator is all!"

Rolling her eyes so hard you could almost hear them, Gavarus put the pile of food containers in the bag. "Ya'know, there's about... YOU meters worth of room in this bag still." She chuckled as they moved on to the clothes pile.

"Oh sure, but then ye'd joost sit back down on yer arse and nae finish the job wi'oot yuir helper!" O'Dell shot back, unfazed.

Pulling over two bins, Gavarus set them down and propped onto the floor next to the pile. "Okay, this bin is for keepers, this one is for the discard pile."

"At's the way. If it don't fit and ye dinna have an emotional attachment, in the bin it goes, aye? Then we'll empty the discard bin inta the bag and keep goin. Look, s'a project and we're havin fun!" Fiona tried to put a positive spin on cleaning, of all things, like thew world's most annoying little sister.

"Ohh, Wheeee!" Gavarus spun her fingers over her head in a mock display of 'having fun'. "Yeah, this is like a party on... oh sweet seven hells, I forgot this existed."

As she spoke, she pulled from the pile a black crop top with the neck cut open and arranged in rhinestones on the chest, the words 'Sexy Pig.'

At that, O’Dell nearly choked on the sip of beer she was takin. As she coughed, she covered her mouth until she could speak again, then she pointed to it. “Oh, you have GOT to wear that to 10-Forward next time ye decide to go hit on a girl!”

"Yeah, no." Gavarus laughed out a light snort. "You still haven't seen me as drunk as I was when I got this goddamn thing. Plus, I was still in the Academy and..."

She held up the top which looked like it would be a better fit for the miniature Mariposian, "Seven hells, I really have put on a shit of frickin' weight." She tossed the shirt over at O'Dell. "Want it?"

Taking the top and draping it over her slight form, the garment hung down long enough to be a dress on O’Dell’s childlike frame, and she snorted. “Oh aye! I’ll wear this next time we do civvies in 10-Forward and that won’t make the lesbian rumors die down at aaaaaaall!”

Picking through the clothing, anything that was too dirty, greasy or holy Fiona was just stuffing into the garbage bag, which was starting to get full. “Alreet, so we got yuir parts binned, we got your ‘artistic inspiration’ set aside, we got your clothes up. Aside from scrubbing and vacuumin, we’ve made a hell of a change in here, aye? Noow is there innything in the bedroom that might scar me wee fragile mind if I should see it…?””

"I don't think so, I..." Suddenly, Gavarus' eyes went wide for a second as with a thick grunt, she pushed herself to her feet and went into the bedroom. "Uh... wait here a sec."

As the door wooshed closed behind her, O'Dell could hear the tubby Tellarite tossing things around and muttering to herself. After a moment, she came back out with a cartoonish grin plastered on her face. "No. There is nothing in this room that should be in any way problematic whatsoever." She said in an exaggeratedly drawn out fashion.

“Saints be praised fur that,” O’Dell muttered. “Ye leave too many of yuir bedroom bits aboot, you’ll fail inspection just on the trauma value alone to the inspector,” O’Dell grunted as she dragged the full trash bag into the bedroom, then she stopped short. Staring at the wreck of a room, she was dumbfounded for a few seconds until she found her voice again.

“Ah, Briiar? There is a bed in there somewhere, aye…?”

"In theory, yes." Gavarus scoffed. "It's... that pile of blankets over there. Seriously, it's not THAT bad, is... okay. Yeah, it's a shit storm."

Shaking her head, Gavarus scratched her head. "I guess, pick where you want your body found? Bed or closet?"

“They find me wee corpse in yuir bed, that is DEFINITELY not gonna slow down the rumor mill,” O’Dell chuckled. “Tell ye what, 2 piles agin. Pitch it in one, needs to be washed and/or hung up in a closet in the other. Start here wi’ the debris by the door and we’ll work our way in. Look on the bright side, we’re halfway… ew.”

O’Dell’s face turned a rather pallid shade of white as she froze. “Uhhh… do ye have a pet, Briaar? Cuz something joost ran across me foot…”

"What, no?" Gavarus looked momentarily confused as she was picking up loose uniform tops from off of her bed. Suddenly, as she saw a small blur of something moving across the floor, the two-meter tall Tellarite lept up onto the bed, squealing very much like a pig. Shrieking, Fiona O’Dell leapt up onto the bed and scrabbled up the tall Tellarite like a squirrel climbing a tree until her forearms were braved on Gavarus’ shoulders.

“I think if ya have rats in yuir quarters we’re in bigger trouble than yuir bloody room inspection,” O’Dell bemoaned. “What’re we gonna do?!?”

"How is that even a thing?!? Rats on a frickin' starship? There's literally no way that could happen, Fee!" Gavarus protested, though she did so still on the top of her bed, scanning the ground with her eyes nervously. "Lots of crewmembers have pets... Hell, I used to have a Tribble when I came on board but it died. Maybe one snuck in or something."

"We need a stick or something to poke around with." Gavarus was trying to suss out a plan of attack, forgetting full well the sensors available to them at a word.

“Well, in the oodles of crrrrap coverin yuir floor, I dinna see innything as useful as a stick!” O’Dell observed, her brogue deepening as she panicked. “There! Somethin joost moved! I dinna ken what et is, but I’m nae gittin down ta find oot! If yuir laundry has become a sentient I dinna want to be eaten by a Horta comprised a'yuir unwashed underthings!”

"You're not gonna get frickin'...hold on. Craaappp." Gavarus grumbled as she paused mid-sentence. "Okay... I've got...something that's, uh, stick LIKE we can use to poke around with. It's, uh, in my nightstand."

The pixie pilot levered herself up on shaky arms, one foot planted on Gavarus' hip for support. "Look, I may not be much into sex but Ah had six older brothers. There is noooo way I am diggin' in yuir nightstand. Okay, alreet, we need a plan. What would the Lieutenant do?"

"I don't KNOW..." Gavarus whined as O'Dell dug her foot into her hip, adjusting herself. "Maybe stare at the pile judgmentally until it gives up? Murder-Punch whatever it is to death? Oooh! Gimmie your shoe!"

Nimbly scrambling the rest of the way up to seat herself, with one leg on either side of Gavarus' neck, O'Dell dangled her feet at chest height for her partner in crime. "Aye, that's a plan I kin get behind! S'all yuirs! Farewell, me sneaker! Tis a far better place ye go now!"

Grabbing one of O'Dell's sneakers, Gavarus gingerly lobbed it off the bed towards the slightly shuffling pile of laundry. A lame, pathetic toss that nonetheless hit it's target.

From the pile, there came a sad squeak, followed by a gentle trilling purr that Gavarus recognized. "The hell? No frickin' way. Get... Get down, Fee."

"Izzat... that sounds like a tribble. If there was a tribble in here we'd be up to our elbows in 'em." O'Dell swung her leg off Gavarus' shoulder then slid smoothly down her back, landing and moving smoothly alongside Gavarus. "What is that?"

Stepping carefully to the ground, Gavarus carefully lifted the sheet to reveal the slightly matted white fur of a tribble. "Holy SHIT!?! Cueball?!? Oh my gods, I thought you were frickin' dead. I put your box in the reclimator!"

As the tribble purred insistently, O'Dell reached out gingerly. "Ach, ye poor poor beastie... come 'ere' s'alreet... I'll nae hurt ye... there's a lamb." Picking up the tunneling tribble, O'Dell brought it to her chest and gingerly smoothed the outer edges of the alien parasite's fur. Then she looked up accusingly at Gavarus, lower lip sticking out and eyes narrowing.

"Oh, don't look at me like that!" Gavarus protested. "She wasn't IN the box. I thought she got out. The door was malfunctioning during my first week here and she was GONE! All I ever found was a few bits of white fur stuck in a turbolift door! I had a funeral for her goddamn box!"

The two-meter, tubby Tellarite looked somewhat ridiculous as she fidgeted in place as she tentatively reached out to pet the tiny tribble.

"Hairbroosh. Ye do own one, aye?" O'Dell asked, holding up the tribble to Gavarus height so she could see what an awful matted mess the small furball's fur had become. Peering out from behind those hands, accusing emerald eyes pierced her own. "If ye cleaned yuir quarters, ye wouldnae have lost yuir wee shaggy. At least he was in noo danger 'a starvin ta death."

"Uh... y... yeah. H... hold on." When the Porcine Engineer was legitimately nervous, she tended to stutter and she knew O'Dell was right and felt like 180 kilograms of compost as she went to grab a brush. She thought her pet was dead and it was in her literal pig-sty of a room for weeks and she didn't know.

Grabbing a brush and pulling a chunk of her own hair out of it, she rushed it back to O'Dell, sheepishly. "H... here."

Bringing the matted and shivering tribble down to her level again, O'Dell accepted the hairbrush and looked up at the properly guilted pet owner. When she spoke, it was softly. Briaar felt guilty enough already. "Alreet... d'ye know how to git tangles oot? Ach, ye poor wee thing, is that bubblegum? Nae, it's a candy, I got it. Here, let's move to the couch since we cleared it off, and we kin work together and I'll show ye how to get the nits an' knots out, aye?"

"Uh... o... okay." Gavarus muttered, nervously following behind O'Dell. "I used to have an oil that helped, but it's gone with... @#$&... I can't believe I... I thought Watson's dumb ass cat ate him or something when..."

The gigantic woman was on the verge of tears and was beyond flustered. As she followed O'Dell to the couch, she stepped gingerly on her slightly undersized hooves.

"S'alreet, Briiar. He's okay, joost a little scared, and he's nae g'win ta enjoy gettin' brooshed out, but we'll get him right as rain, aye? I'll help ye. He'll be alreet, won't ye Cueball?" O'Dell held the dirty dust bunny up to he face and beamed a smile at the tribble, which in turn trilled in a seemingly pleased manner. "See? He's nae mad, he's happy to see ye!"

At which, Gavarus' thick lower lip began to tremble. For a few seconds, the huge woman looked like an enormous child before she broke out in almost cartoonish tears. "WHAAAA!!! I'M... I'M... I'M S... S... SORRY CUEBALL!!! IM A TERRIBLE PIECE OF SHIIIIIIIIIIITTT!!! WHHAAAAHHH!!!"

Grimacing, O'Dell realized that her power of guilt must be working overtime today, because she didn't realize it worked this well on Gavarus. Placing the tribble into the thick three-fingered hands, the minsicule Mariposian began brushing the tangles and bits of stuff in the tribble's fur out while Gavarus held it. "There, see? He's joost glad ye found him agin, that's all. He's nae mad, are ye Cueball?"

The tribble purred, as if in response.

"Of course yuir not. Ye still had food and tribbles don't need much water, so yuir joost glad ta be back, aren't ye? Yes you are! Yes you are!" O'Dell spoke to the tribble as one would a baby, and the tribble purred, sending out vibrations that most races found soothing, save Klingons, who were apparently the universe's natural enemy of tribbles.

Holding the white-furred fuzzball in her hands delicately, Gavarus had begun to calm down a bit but was now at that stage of crying where, like a small child, was trying to catch her breath and talk at the same time. "I'm... So... Sorry... Cueball. *Snort*. M... Mommy's... Sorry. "

Catching her breath a little, Gavarus tried to chuckle a bit as she talked. "Okay... G... Good reason to keep... Keep my quarters cleaner."

"There ye go... tis alreet, Briaar. Noo harm done, and we'll git wee Cueball all cleaned up and pretty agin, then we'll finish cleanin oop so ye willnae loose him agin, aye?" Fiona's tone was soothing and soft, for the benefit of the inadvertently abused pet and their guilt-riddled owner. "After we get all the nits and knots brushed oot, we'll give him a nice wee sonic shower to git 'im all clean and fresh too, ayte? S'gwin ta be okay, right? Right Cueball?""

As she spoke, Fiona's hands worked with speed and efficiency. With her own mop of curls, the little leprechaun had a lifetime of experience with this sort of thing, and in short order she was taking care of the matted fur of the tribble, turning him as she worked so that the now brushed out and healthy side was facing Gavarus, to reinforce to her that her wee pet was none the worse for wear, just in need of the TLC it was even now receiving. While it occasionally squeaked a bit and a pulled hair, for the most part, it was now settling into a calm, steady trilling to soothe the jangled nerves of his owner.

Having calmed herself down much more, Gavarus had an aggressively goofy smile on her face as she held the tiny white puffball up for Fiona. The smile only cracking a bit each time as Cueball squeaked and Gavarus winced ever so slightly. "Thanks, Fee." She said with more sincerity then was standard for their interactions.

"It's alreet, Briaar. I know ye dinna mean inny harm- ye aren't the type," Fiona reassured the stricken swine. "We'll get your wee little mate here all spruced up, and he'll be freesh as a daisy in no time, and we'll make sure he stays that way, aye? Aye, m'wee little bairn, eh? Yuir momma's glad to have ye back, that she is! And soon ye'll be able to roam freely withoot gitting lost inny more!"

"Maybe go git 'em some oat flakes from the replicator to feed him, help him remember the hand that feeds him? I think they eat grains and sooch, though I'm nae expert on alien pets." Although she was quite adroit at working with livestock thanks to her upbringing, a tribble was a new one on O'Dell. But she adapted easily- an animal was an animal, and furry and cooing made it that much easier to find them lovable. "Cueball must be one of the neutered ones, aye?"

"Yeah. Ship regulations are strict with Tribbles, so Cueball can't make any little 8-Balls." Gavarus got up as delicately as possible, gently handing Cueball to O'Dell. "I still have all the food options in the replicator program. But this was his favorite. Tribble supplement number 9."

Punching the instructions into the replicator, Gavarus came back over with two small round chromed bowls. One with water and the other with a small collection of pastry flakes on a tray. "Here you go, Cueball. Momma's got your favorite." It was almost funny to watch the towering Tellarite dote over the tiny Tribble.

"There we goo. Alreet Briaar, why don't ye take the opportunity to get yuir crap offa the floor'a yuir bedroom, since ye know what's to keep and what's ta pitch, and I'll finish getting yuir wee shaggy all fresh as a daisy, aye?" O'Dell spoke with no malice, instead hoping to use this as a motivation for the big boar to finish the field day of her quarters.

"Uh... yeah. Sure. Good idea." Gavarus nervously laid the food down and grabbed the rest of the bins and quickly went to work in the bedroom. As Fiona continued to de-mat the tiny tribble's fur, she could hear Gavarus rustling through the piles in the bedroom like a whirling dervish. And after what seemed like an extremely short period of time, considering the size of the mess, she came back out with a bin filled to overflowing with clothes.

Putting the bin near the door, Gavarus looked a little winded but more focused than before. "So, yeah. This is all getting recycled. It's all stuff that either doesn't fit or I wouldn't be caught dead in anymore. On the plus side, it will seriously boost my matter rations for beer."

"That's the spirit!" Fiona chirped as she took the tribble into the sonic shower, where she used the lightest setting to pulse away the dander and detritus from the small lifeform. In only a moment she returned, holding out the freshly-cleaned and brushed out pale white tribble.

"There ye go! All cleaned up and fresh fuir momma!" Holding out the tribble as she had earlier, now she presented the small furball to it's ostensible owner.

Gently taking the tiny, trilling Tribble into her oversized hamhocks, Gavarus bit her bottom lip like a shoolgirl. "Oh, thank you again, Fee. He looks... I can't believe it."

As she spoke, she rubbed her snout gently against the tribble which cooed in response. "Momma was so upset when she thought she lost you, Cueball. But I made a new friend. Do you like Momma's new friend? Do you like Auntie Fee? You like Auntie Fee, don't you? Yes, you do!" As if it understood, the snow white furball chirped lightly.

"Waaaaahhhl, Auntie Fee likes you too, Cueball," O'Dell grinned wide, scritching the little furball affectionately. "Alreet, what do ye say we finish the job, here? Let's get alla this crap to reclamation so's we kin put away what remains, wipe everything doown and get it all ship-shape to pass yuir re-inspection tomorrow, aye? And we'll have ta get yuir wee bairn a nice playpen, aye? So's when momma's gettin' her room inspected ye're nae on the ceiling or somethin..."

"Ooh, Yeah. Duh. Right." Gavarus handed Fiona Cueball again for a moment, walked back over to the replicator and called up a small, clear sided pet carrier about the size of a really big shoebox. Placing it, with the food and water tray inside, on the cleaned off Kitchenette counter, Gavarus gently picked her tiny pet back up and placed it in the case for safe keeping and closed the clear hatch. "There you go. It's a little one for now, but once we're clean, I re-replicate your old pen, okay? Okay, baby? Okay."

Straightening back up, Gavarus sighed slightly. "Well... that frickin' happened. Soooo... rock/paper/scissors for who cleans the shower?"

"Since I'm such a pal, howboot I'll clean the shower if ye'll drag alla that heavy crap to the reclamator, aye? I dinna mind getting dirty, but if I try luggin alla that down the corridor I'm g'win ta throw me back out." While it was true that the midget Mariposian would have trouble, she felt badly about shaming Gavarus over the state of her pet, and wanted to make up for it. Not being the most tidy nor clean of individuals, when it came to the finishing touches to make the room pass inspection, Fiona figured it was best she be the one to add those touches. After all, despite her desire to be surrounded by clutter, O'Dell was in her own way quite fastidious, and was in the habit of acing room inspections so they could not be held against her, since so often in her career superiors were looking for reasons to wash her out.

"Yeah, that sounds like a deal to me. I'll get this crap settled so we've got more room to put away what I'm actually keeping." Gavarus said, only now finally no longer complaining about the chore and just happy that her pet wasn't actually dead. "Let's get this finished up so we can get back to drinking properly."

An hour later, both women sat exhausted on the couch, the cheerfully trilling Tribble between them as they clinked together their beer bottles, congratulating themselves on a job well done.

"I have ta say, I think ye kin pass room inspection now, aye? And really, I was impressed ye parted wi' soo much of yuir crrap. The place looks right spic and span!" O'Dell observed, taking another swig off her beer, the first one she'd started with. "Plus we found Cueball, so that's a definite plus!"

Reaching down to scritch on her purring pet, Gavarus smiled. "Huge ass plus."

As she scritched, she paused for a moment to think and then sighed, taking a swig of her beer. "Craaaappp. Speaking of huge asses... there's... uh... another inspection coming up, and currently, there is no way I'm passing it, Fee."

"Thought ye said so long as ye kin fit into a Jeffries tube they dinna care?" O'Dell replied, taking another sip of her beer.

"I'm pretty sure I said that they shouldn't care, but..." Gavarus took a long swig of her beer, "...but we both know I'm going to fail that frickin' physical hard at this rate and..."

Leaning her head back and letting out an aggressively exaggerated sigh, Gavarus continued, "...I could use some... help! There, I said it."

"That's all I needed ta hear," O'Dell replied, sitting up. "So tomorrow we'll start in the gymnasium together, eh? I need to build up and ye need to slim doown, and we kin do it together, aye? There's nae reason ta be ashamed of it Briiar. Besides, ye dinna think I was g'win ta give ye crap aboot it, didya?"

"Waahhhhhl, except that yuir gonna hafta switch ta liquor instead 'a beer. But that's nae s'bad, aye?" Scritching the little tribble between them, O'Dell spoke to it in baby talk. "Nooo, that's not s'bad. And yuir mumma and yuir auntie will both get inta shape ere long, and soon we'll be runnin the joint, aye?"

"Oh NO! Not hard liquor! However will I survive!" Gavarus chuckled as she looked at her beer bottle. "But, in the mean time, here's to running the joint!" And she held her beer up for a toast.

"Here's ta runnin the joint!" O'Dell agreed, and the furry tribble cooed it's agreement as well.