The Burn has been Extremely Felt

Posted on Thu May 23rd, 2019 @ 11:16am by Commander Rita Paris & Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus
Edited on on Sat May 25th, 2019 @ 10:43pm

Mission: Fractured Fairy Tales
Location: R&D Department
Timeline: 2396

As the doors to the R&D department hissed open, Ensigns Briaar Gavarus and Fiona O'Dell made their entrance to an empty room. "Oh, sweet evil hell, thank the gods nobody's here."

Gavarus grumbled as the Extremely sore Tellarite Engineer waddled inside. She moaned as she creaked through the door looking like she had two broken knees and a full diaper. "Gyaagh... I hurt in places I didn't know existed."

"It gets better. Take a few pills and it'll stave off the stiffness fuir a while, an' hopefully we've nae mooch physical for you ta do today." Big green eyes popping open, O'Dell bounced about a bit as an idea bubbled to the surface. "If I'm flyin, yuir sittin', aye? So let's take the Thunderchicken oot for a spin, even simulated! Or I could teach ye how to pilot a cyclone proper? That's sittin down work at least?"

"Pills sounds good. Whiskey sounds better. BUT we're on duty, so some replicated pain relievers will do." Gavarus limped over to the replicator and ordered up two pain relievers and a glass of water. As she did, she grabbed a PaDD left on her workstation and checked it out.

"Well, Ensign Gonadie is in a meeting with Commander ThunderJugs and Lieutenant Murder-Punch. So, she left it to us to hit whatever on our checklist we want to do." Rolling her stiff neck, the Porcine engineer was more crotchety than normal due the soreness of their intense workout earlier in the morning setting into her lazy muscles.

"And while I would pay to watch you try to walk the Thunderchicken right now, that requires me standing in the observation area. Soooo, Cyclone training it is."

"Yuir nae standin if I'm in the simulator. And I been runnin, ye know? Only a week, but I kin do it., And those stretches worked, I feel like a pot o' gold!" O'Dell grinned. "Joost that me arems won't proper straighten oot, but that's nae s'bad."

"Alreet, let's take the simulator for this, because we've nae flight clearance and we're liable ta be at warp. So ye kin learn ta fly the Starfleet way- with hours of simulations! Oi, Computer," O'Dell called out, "Set us oop wi' a pair a' Cyclones in the simulator for flight practice starting on the flight deck, aye?"

The computer chirruped, then replied =^= Simulation requested prepared. You may enter when ready.=^=

"Age before beauty?" O''Dell gestured grandly.

"This shit needs to kick in faster." Gavarus moaned as she walked slowly to the simulator, her muscles still protesting the decision. "And I'm only 26, ya' know."

"Aye, but I'm the pretty one!" O'Dell chirped as she followed Gavarus onto a simulation of the Hera's flight deck.

At the side of the simulated Cyclone, the rotund Tellarite tried lifting her leg up to lift herself into the cockpit. "Oh, for @#$&'s sake, this is ridiculous. I did the stretches too! Why do I feel like I pissed off the Lieutenant?"

"Mayyyyybe ye should try some more stretches... ye know, try to stay limber? Or ye could fall ion then sort yuirself oot, but I dinna think that'll work as well for ye as me. "C'mon ye loafer, I'll do 'em with ye, aye?"

As Gavarus shot back some weapons-grade stink eye to her pint-sized pal, she smirked slightly. "Sounds like a plan, Fee. Here... high five."

Gavarus held her hand up just high enough to barely exceed what she observed was the maximum amount the miniscule Maraposian could successfully extend her own arms after the push-ups the pair had done.

Without thinking, the midget Mariposian whipped her arm up, eyes widening in surprise at the sudden shock of pain that lanced through her arm as she did so, before she gritted her teeth and tapped Gavarus' hand.

"...ouch..."

Looking down, Gavarus cricked her eyebrow and made a tilted half-smirk. "Let's both work on the stretching. Neither of us have room to give the other much shit here. Uuugh."

As she groaned, she finally hoisted her ample posterior up and cleared the exterior to flump hard into the cockpit. "Okay. I'm in. Now I need a cookie and a nap."

"I wasnae teasin' ye, I was tryin ta help, ye wicked warthog!" O'Dell spat as she climbed into her own cyclone. "Although a cookie and a nap sound grand. Alreet, ye know the preflight checklist, aye?"

Looking at the console, Gavarus raised her eyebrows in confusion. "Uh... Tuuuurn it on and it goes 'woosh'? I have no idea. What, is it like a systems check? Make sure all the different stuff is set up and responding?"

"Aye... sorry, I woulda thought engineers knew this stoof. Okay, aye, it's testin everything to make sure it all works afore ye fly it. Tell ye what, start by loggin into the console, aye?" Within a few minutes, O'Dell had walked her flight engineer through the preflight checklist and explained the reasoning for each of the checks.

"Now in a perfect world, the Cyclones are meant to be flown wearin' EVA suits, on account of it bein' a fighter craft. But we'll skip that since this is a sim and I'm too sore to get into that bodysuit right now," O'Dell admitted with a grunt, stretching both arms over her head, which she could do in the cockpit that passed as roomy for her. "Whattya say you adjust the flight couch so's yuir comfortable and we'll work on powering up and takeoff?"

"Yeah. That I know how to do. I installed the things on the real Cyclones." Gavarus perked up slightly. Not only was the space-ibuprofen kicking in, but she was starting to feel a bit more comfortable in the cockpit, understanding things better.

"Like... I know all the physical systems. I just..." The irritable Engineer admitted, "...I didn't remember the checklist part. The order for..."

Sighing, Gavarus continued, almost reluctantly but for it being her best friend. "I know what I know. I know what I need to know to be an engineer. Everything else, I just... find an excuse to not have the time to remember. Like flight checklists or... ya' know... interacting with people."

"Waaaaahhl, that's why the universe cursed ye wi' me, because I remember alla this and I know how ta people. Kinda. A little bit. I kin get by for short encounters at least, afore people get sick 'a me. It's okay, Briiar, I gotchye. You teach me how to fix things and I kin teach you how to pilot, aye? S'what friends do, aye?" O'Dell was punching up a few systems, and while she spoke, she elevated the craft two meters off the deck. "So engage the antigrav system and nae the thrusters. Let me walk ye through it..." Over the next few minutes, O'Dell explained the different thrust systems and how they all coordinated, in a way that she knew the engineer would understand- tying the mechanical systems into actual application for flight."

Working her way through the flight controls and systems, Gavarus was almost smiling as O'Dell's explanations were making sense to the flustered engineer. "Okay... So with the antigrav systems active, you can allot only minimal power to the thrusters for significant maneuverability. Okay."

As she spoke, Gavarus tapped the thruster controls and put her simulated Cyclone into a slow but controlled spin as the ship turned in place as if parked on a lazy Susan. "HAA! Okay. I think I'm getting this."

“Aye, see? Now wi’ the inertial dampeners engaged, so long as ye concentrate on yuir instruments and not the view oot the cockpit, ye kin do the kinda tricks that I do. Now, mind ye, in stellar maneuvering, ye kin do this sort of thing to spin, reorient then apply thrust for some pretty extreme maneuvers that other pilots willnae expect. But that’s a wee bit advanced for our first class. So, were we going to leave the flight deck, what would be our next step?" O’Dell wanted to ensure she was being comprehensive, so she was making sure to cover the basics as well as alluding to advanced theories and stratagems. For now, one of the absolute basics.

"Next step? Well, aside from all kinds of protocol asking permission and shit, I guess... enter our departure instructions into the... helm thingy... and minimal thrusters until we're in open space?" Gavarus stated the answer as an uncertain question.

“Aye, that’s exactly it, well done, Briaar!” O’Dell chirped through the comms. “First, file a flight plan, so Hera traffic control knows what’s oop and ye dinna get pegged as someone stealin' a ship. Then, ye engage maneuvering thrusters only in spacedock- that’s regulations too, right there, and fuir the safety of all involved. Tis easy to imagine that impulse power isn’t that fast, but in a relatively small space as this, going 1/100th the speed of light is still just shy of 3,000 kilometers per second, and even as good as I am, I’d be a bug splatter on the windshield if I had to make a course correction at that speed on the flight deck.”

Smiling a bit, in spite of herself, Gavarus was a little proud of herself for starting to understand what Fiona was telling her. "Okay... so... systems are all checked. Flight plan isssss filed. Now, for pulling in and out of the bay, is that something that's preprogrammed in or do you do that manually?"

"See, now that's a good question. See alla them lines on the deck? They're flight paths. We call the tower, they give us a flight path, and on thrusters we follow whatever flight path they give us, and follow it off the flight deck. Then we follow the vector til we get clear of the Hera, then we're off! Alreet, ye wanna give it a go? S'easy as pie, Gavarus me old ham hock!" Realizing what she'd said, O'Dell amended her statement. "And we might want to think aboot breakfast, because I'm starvin!"

"Oh my frickin' GODS, yes! I think I could eat a you-sized anything at this point. But I'm feeling like I'm on a roll..." Gavarus paused, thinking longingly on the value of a steaming hot, toasted roll dripping in butter before snapping out of it. "Okay! No! We got this. Let's do this before I forget how! So... what's our launch Victor?”

“Victor, vector ober, dunn,” O’Dell muttered. “Look, tis nae hurry and we’re only g’win oot for a joyride, and tis all simulated. What say we bring it down and go get a bite? Chief Gonadie won’t mind, we have our own replicator in department, and yuir only g’win ta git hangry the longer we wait. Besides, I hafta piddle,” O’Dell admitted.

"Yeah, okay. I can agree with all of these plans." Gavarus replied, though she was actually getting slightly excited to fly. Though she was a 2 meter tall, 180 kg. Pig woman and she was extremely hungry as well, so she conceded. "Computer, save simulation."

With a chirrup, the computer responded. "Let's get our grub on, then Fee. Well... after you pee."

Twenty minutes later, relieved and with half a hot meal in them both, Gavarus’ PaDD dinged with an incoming message for O’Dell from Commander Paris, requiring a security clearance thumbprint ID to continue to the message.

With a mouth still full with a fork full of breakfast potatoes, Gavarus grumbled as she looked at her PaDD. Swallowing, she griped as she picked up the PaDD to check the message. "Oh, what fresh hell is this?"

Pressing her thick thumb on the touch screen, the PaDD chirruped, then a second screen came up asking for O'Dell's thumbprint. Gavarus handed the PaDD over, looking confused. "Fee... It's something for you from Paris. Sent to my PaDD for some damn reason. Here."

Frowning slightly, the pixie pilot set down her bowl of breakfast baked beans and eyed the tablet suspiciously. Tabbing in her thumbprint for verification, she cocked her head quizzically, making her mop or crimson curls bounce about. “Uh… it looks like it need ye to sign into it too, Briaar. What do ye reckon this is all aboot? D’ya think we’re in trouble for mockin’ Commander Funbags?”

Pressing her thumb again, Gavarus shrugged. "At this point, who the hell knows. Probably. I swear, to be in command on this ship seems to require watching everything us peons do."

As the thumbprint recognition was confirmed, the screen sprang to life with the image of the aforementioned first officer, whose face was grave as she addressed the unlikely duo.

“Ensigns O’Dell and Gavarus, this message is alpha priority and classified as top secret. It is for your eyes only, and should only be viewed in a secure setting. No one else is to be witness to not be made aware of the contents of this message. Ensure that you are alone one a secure location and activate sensor countermeasures to ensure absolute privacy before beginning playback. That's an order. This message will pause while these steps are undertaken.” The Commander’s tone was even, but there was an undercurrent of tension in her voice... not that either of them were that familiar with the usual speaking habits of the first officer, but it was plainly evident.

Looking at O'Dell will an extremely confused expression, Gavarus raised her eyebrows. "Uh... oooookay. Uh... probably not here. Um... I'm authorized to use Gonadie's office as her assistant chief. That's probably better, right?"

The tubby Tellarite asked as a question, but began getting up stiffly to head out of the lunch room which didn't feel quite as secure as the message indicated was needed.

“Aye, aye.. the fook izzis abbot? D’ye think they’re joost testin us? What does command want wi’ us? We’re a pilot and an engineer, fer crissakes! Why is it top secret? What does that even mean? We’re supposed to use anti sensing? D’you even know how to turn that on? Why can’t anybody else know, is it a conspiracy? The rise of Section 32? D’ye think she heard us?” While an oddly talented and skilled pilot, capable of handling a starship or a mech with considerable finesse, anxiety tended to cause O’Dell to panic. Which occasionally produced a volume of verbal vomit of stream of consciousness babble.

"I don't frickin' know, Fee." Gavarus talked as she walked, looking at the PaDD as the extremely nervous pair made their way into Ensign Gonadie's office. "Okay... Uh... I guess we just tell the.computer..."

Looking up, Gavarus pursed her brow slightly and spoke to the room. "Uh... computer. Secure the office and turn on the... uh... what did she call it... active sensor countermeasures?"

=^=Please provide security confirmation.=^=

"Shit..." Gavarus muttered. Uh... Okay... Authorization Gavarus, B. Ensign. Assistant Research and Development Chief. Access code X-51-IM2020?"

=^=Confirmed. Room secured.=^=

"Okay... Now what do we do, Fee?" The anxious engineer asked.

“What’re ye askin me for- wait, noo, the message, we play the rest of the message,” O’Dell circled around Gavarus as she talked, her nerves already shot by the fear of what this was all about. Putting both hands behind a chair, she shoved it, eyes popping open wide as she made a sharp “Yeeeehee hee.... oh sweet mother McCray, that hurt. Ohhhhh me arms feel like rubber bands that have been snapped too hard. Ooooch ooch ouchie...”

"Shit, Fee!" Gavarus winced for her diminutive best friend.

Still she persisted, and got the chair next to the other one facing the desk, and the little lass climbed into the chair next to her partner in crime to see what the big secret was all about. When she spoke, she sounded reasonably sure of herself. “G’wan... m’good, I kin handle it. Play the message.”

"It's okay. She can't possibly make us secure the frickin' room just to yell at us, right?" Gavarus said, asking as a question again. "Uh.. okay. Let's... Go."

Pressing the button to continue the message, Gavarus held her breath for a second.

Onscreen, the somewhat intimidating line officer waited with a somewhat patient expression for about seven seconds, then she cocked her head slightly and began addressing the sensor once more. "I'll assume my orders have been carried out. Let me express first," The first officer held up an imperious finger like a schoolmarm. Then a smile spread across her face. "You are not in trouble. This is not a punishment, and you are not being reprimanded. You're may very well be about to earn your pay, Ensigns. So, welcome to the boarding party."

"Boarding WHAT now?" Gavarus exclaimed, having no idea what Rita Paris was talking about and was still expecting to be in trouble.

"In the upcoming Tribunal of the Artans, no matter how it goes, we expect ship to ship combat complete with boarding parties. Our opponent," Onscreen an image of Arenara Artan appeared, followed by a Miranda class basic specification sheet. "Has a highly modified and specialized Miranda class. I've got a holo of the bridge for you, conveniently enough, for you to mark your targets." Another datapacket arrived, complete with a thumbnail image of the bridge. "I've taken the liberty of identifying the stations for you so you can prioritize your targets."

"Because you, Ms. Gavarus, are going to beam our little engine of destruction right outside their shields, and she can make it from there. Your mission, Ensign O'Dell, is to pilot the Thunderchicken from the edge of their shields, penetrate the bridge of the enemy vessel from inside their shields. Which may or may not have rammed our own and turned bloodthirsty pirates against our crew. Regardless, when I signal you, your mission is to penetrate the enemy bridge and neutralize it. Demolish the stations and the vessel should be crippled. Assuming they don't have auxiliary control manned and ready, but if they do, that will enact plan B."

"The hard part of this mission is that I want their captain, 'Queen Arenara', captured alive. O'Dell, tag her with the laser tagging function of your weapon, and Ensign Gavarus, you will use that for site to site beaming, to our brig."

"Take a moment amongst yourselves to digest. I'll wait." With that the sensor appeared to be pointed at the ceiling, as the Commander was nowhere to be seen onscreen.

"Okay, what the @#$&!" Gavarus exclaimed. "Is she frickin' kidding?! That's... That's absolutely insane! Is... Is this for real? Isn't his some kind of weird test?"

"How're we supposed to get the Thunderchicken onto a transporter pad, she's too big. In vehicle mode maybe, but... kin the personnel transporters do that much mass..." O'Dell paused in her working out of the logistics of the plan to look up at Gavarus. "Well, if it's a test, mebbe that's part of it. Should we... pause the message...?" O'Dell asked. Then her eyes got wide and she pointed to the PaDD in horror. Climbing up with a grunt to stand in her chair, she leaned over to hiss a whisper in a pig's ear.

"That's nae a recording, this is live! She kin hear us reet now!"

"What? No way. She said it was a message. She... Shhhh..." Gavarus replied in slight shock, stopping mid-curse, trying to think if she had said anything overtly horrible. "Um... C... C... Commander?"

The camera angle tilted, and shifted as something blocked the scanner, then they were looking at the Commander in her office, as viewed from waist up in profile. Apparently, she had the PaDD she was calling them on propped up against something on her desk, and she was working on a few of them that were scattered amongst piles of PaDDs and flimsies on her cluttered desktop.

"Yes, I'm here, yes, it's a call, and yes, I tricked you. Ensigns who are not model officers and gentlemen tend to be a bit nervous around rank, which tends to lead to panic and lock up. So I was introducing you to the idea slowly, but I'm terrible at deception, so my ploy failed. Now," Paris turned to address them both once more. "Yes, I want to hear how you're going to pull this all off, and I want to hear any problems with the plan."

"Miss O'Dell?" The pint-sized pilot stiffened up, standing at attention in her chair. "You are a very small officer, and a lightweight alcoholic." At that, O'Dell looked stricken, but the Commander continued. "But when you are piloting that mecha, you are quick and clever and mighty. I'm sending you on this mission because you're the only pilot I want for the job."

"Miss Gavarus? You're bright and gifted, if surly and untidy. But you grasp all of this, and you're making it work. I need you both on this mission, at your best. I can't have that is you're afraid of the rank. So I want you both to relax, calm down, and start thinking this through for me so that when I call for the little banshee to tear through their hull and invade the bridge of the Bloody Rose- right?" Paris held up a hand and shook her head as she turned to another PaDD, multitasking as they worked. "Seriously, who names a starship something like that?"

Still staring, slack-jawed at the PaDD, Gavarus was letting the details and the deception swirl through her mind. "O... O... Okay... Uh... Um."

As usual, the generally gruff and sarcastic engineer began stuttering when she was seriously nervous, that the situation had her feeling very nervous. But she did her best to push past it in the terror of the moment.

"S... So... we need to beam the Thunderchicken either to the edge of another ship's shields or through them? Okay... If another ship has rammed us, shields aren't an issue. We'll be inside of their shield and, shit, with the cargo transporters, we can..." As Gavarus let the curse slip out her eyes bulged out of her head. "Uh... I apologize, Commander. I'm... I don't... I'm very sorry, Commander. I.... I... I'm just nervous and..."

"I'm a career Starfleet officer, Miss Gavarus. I've forgotten more dirty words than most people will ever hear. That said, I would appreciate it if you would please make the attempt to comport yourself in a top-secret command level briefing as though you ARE in a briefing, and not in 10-Forward." Picking up another PaDD, the buxom blonde in the tomboy haircut frowned as she continued.

As she did, Gavarus blushed seven shades of pink and she simply nodded in shame.

"Now, yes, if we're boarded then shields will not be an issue. However, I am more than likely not waiting for that eventuality to come to pass before deploying the... ugh, Thunderchicken. It has got to get a better name before we leave prototype." Paris was clearly going on, preoccupied as she was comparing notes from two different PaDDs as she spoke.

At least, until O'Dell interjected. "Banshee!"

"What's that, Ensign?" Paris asked, setting one of the PaDDs down and picking up a flimsy stack to sort through it.

"Ye said it yuirself a mo' a go, mum. Banshee class variable mode multipurpose vehicle- aye?" While she'd remained silent for the duration of the briefing, this was the first moment where O'Dell had felt she had something to contribute. "If we ever went to production and I was assigned one of me own, that's what I was g'win ta name her- the Banshee. But it's a right proper name for the craft. If'n yuir askin', mum. Commander. Sir."

"Just ma'am or Commander Paris will do, Miss O'Dell. While I am certain that the gender binary is a laughable dinosaur in the 25th century, I prefer feminine pronouns. That said, your idea isn't a bad one- I'll take it under consideration." Paris turned to look at the screen and offer a friendly grin as a yeoman walked in to hand her a stack of PaDDs, which she directed to a cleared spot on her desk.

As Paris addressed the Yeoman on the other side, Gavarus silently curled her fat, three-fingered hand into a fist and bumped it in a congratulatory fashion against O'Dell's hand.

"Meanwhile, let us strategize. I still want to know how you are going to get a pilot and a vehicle assembled in the same space, given that the pilot has to be transported via personnel transporters for safety and I don't think the main transporters can manage the craft as well. Also, as transporting, no antimatter ordinance, so you will be going out sans photon torpedoes, Miss O'Dell. So configure your weapons load appropriately."

"Plasma missiles, mum. To burn through the hull while I'm a-poundin on it wi' phaser fire," O'Dell answered, clearly already working out how to accomplish her portion of the mission.

Knowing that attempting to beam anti-matter was an extremely risky proposal in the best of circumstances, Gavarus was finally starting to think a bit more like an engineer and it came across as a growing confidence in her otherwise anxious voice.

"Actually... Commander... I think the problem of beaming a ship with the pilot in her seat has... I read about this when I got the assignment to start working on the Cyclones. It was called the... uh... Paris Protocols, actually. It required being able to beam one of the Cyclones, with a pilot, together. Even beamed inside a ship together."

"Lieutenant Dox had Ensign Gonadie already starting to work on reconfiguring the cargo transporters here for that. Since the EVA suit has a self-contained environmental system, that aspect isn't a factor in the beaming process. And the flight deck transporters have already begun being adjusted to allow for a ship and pilot to be transported safely together. It's still in the experimental phase, but I'm... uh... I know we can get it finished and completely safe in time, Commander."

"Make it happen, Miss Gavarus. O'Dell, review my targeting options. That first target is potentially critical, so I want it destroyed immediately. Then you have your recommended targeting. How do you plan to accomplish this?" Paris pursued the point, pressing the pixie pilot's planning.

Hopping down off the chair to snatch a PaDD off Gonadie's desk, O'Dell logged in and muttered to Gavarus to share the file, and as she opened it the holographic system running throughout the USS Hera came to life. A flawless holographic rendering of the enemy bridge sprang into being around them. O'Dell jumped a bit and made a "Yeet!' exclamation, startled by the sudden change, but she adapted quickly. Looking around, she considered the stations and the targeting priority list.

"What's the Agony Booth, Commander, and why's it so important? If I take out helm control or tactical it seems a higher priority target?" O'Dell asked, looking around the bridge.

"The device can fire all of the pain receptors in your body at once, Ensign. It will cripple you and render you unable to perform your duty, so it is vital that you eliminate that threat first." Paris spelled it out, matter-of-factly. O'Dell lined herself up with the main viewscreen, figured where on the outer hull of the bridge it would correspond with, and she nodded, mop of crimson curls bobbing in agreement.

"So I'll make me grand entrance through the bulkhead there, through the device to take it out wi'me stylish entry. Once in, I'll set off an EMP, I think I kin get a generator to add as an underslung or in a missile slot. While that's makin it lots of fun to be on the bridge, I'll assume the emergency shields will maintain the atmosphere, otherwise a lot of this is moot because the enemy crew is already dying in space- guess we need a plan to save them in that case, because Commander said captured alive at all costs."

"Except that if you set off an EMP, the emergency shields will be gone and the Thunderchicken shielding isn't good enough yet to protect itself." Gavarus interjected, hoping she wasn't saying anything too stupid. "But you'll have a full phaser array, so set on wide dispersal set to stun should give you time to get the target and cripple bridge control. Right?"

"Aye, that's good thinkin. Alreet, proceed to demolish helm and tactical with hollow point rounds that'll chew all that plasteel and aluminum to shreds. Assuming I have time I'll demolish the turbolift door then Engineering and Communications after that, and I dinna care what science has to say particularly, and I'll not shoot innyone that doesnae give me trouble."

"Hold on a second." Gavarus commented, pulling up her PaDD and calling up a holographic, exterior schematic of a Miranda class starship. "Look at this. If you're inside their shields, it's about ten steps for the Walker to the rear engineering dome. You can disable their warp core with a few solid shots straight down that shaft? Right? I mean, once we figure out how to get inside their shields."

"Let's stick to crippling the bridge, if you please," Paris countered. "It's far too easy to destroy a warp core messing about like that, and I want a starship full of live prisoners, not cooked atomic particles and cosmic dust where a starship used to be. Points for direct thinking on this one Miss Gavarus, but we'll stay with the safer plan. Well, good news, if there's to be no EMP, then your backup squad will be able to accompany you. We'll be beaming a security team right behind you. Ensign O'Dell, so as soon as you secure the bridge you'll have backup ready to board."

"Then... I'll make sure to boost the resolution on the flight deck's transporter. As long as the engines are off on the Chicken, this should work." Gavarus was typing away on her PaDD rapidly. "The math all works. But... Commander. I... uh... have a q... question."

"Not your problem Ensign, the Security team will be beaming from Main Transporter Room 2. That's why they haven't been a major component of the plan- they are back up for the primary mission. As for your question, I have found in my career in Starfleet that it is seldom important to be the smartest person in the room, but to ask the right question of the smartest person. Ask away, Ensign, what's on your mind?" the commander casually commented as she continued to work on more than one thing at a time while meeting with the dynamic duo.

"Y... Y... You said that this meeting... this mission... is classified." Gavarus asked nervously. "That we're not to talk about this with anyone. Uh... How are we supposed to prepare the cargo transporters and the Chicken and do any of this without anyone knowing? I mean... we check in for everything with Ensign Gonadie and Lieutenant Dox."

"The chain of command dictates that you obey the last lawful order given to you by a superior officer.," the Commander, who apparently delivered lectures like this in her sleep as she continued working on reviewing who knew what else while she explained her answer to Gavarus and O'Dell. "In this particular case, you have been sworn to secrecy by your Commander. Now, should you explain to the chief of your department what you are doing if she orders you to tell her, or should you adhere to the secrecy of the order from the higher ranking officer and express to the lower ranking officer that she should seek answers at the level at which the orders originated. Which one seems like the right answer to you in this case?"

Glancing down briefly at O'Dell with a confused and slightly frightened expression, Gavarus stuttered her reply feeling like she hadn't said anything right all day at this point "U.. uh... T... The last one... the last one... makes sense. Uh... I apologize again, Commander."

"Whatever for, Miss Gavarus?" the commander asked, a mild frown of concern settling onto her face. "You don't want to violate the chain of command, which is the right course. So you ask the issuer of said orders for clarification so that you can properly execute the order. Also the right move."

"Never be afraid to question the nature of an order to seek clarification, Ensign. A questioning mind is the mark of a good officer. Dumb officers who never ask questions often pretend they got it, then mess things up. I'm glad you asked." Paris looked at the sensor, looking out at the duo from onscreen. "If you've more questions, please, by all means do ask. Interaction produces better planning, particularly when we have time as a luxury to preplan and troubleshoot."

"Well... uh..."Gavarus called up the specs for the Thunderchicken on her PaDD. "I think we need to increase power to the Chicken's magnetic couplings so she can stay good and fixed to the ship no matter what they pull. And we need to get the mode conversion speed up so you can get in and out fast, Fee."

"Nay, I kin do the whole mission in Walker mode, nae need ta convert," O'Dell chimed in. "I've got maneuverin' thrusters and .4 impulse power in that mode."

"I do like yuir idea of the magnets though- kin we make 'em electromagnets I kin crank oop and doown? Or would we be better off usin' the inertial dampeners fuir that trick?" O'Dell's eyes got a bit wider and a gring spread across her face as she got excited by the possibilities. "Cuz I like the idea of bein' immovable if I need it. Like if they dinna have emergency forcefields on their bridge, aye?"

Looking over the data as she was crunching numbers, Gavarus replied. "E... e... electromagnets, I think. Using inertial dampeners would work too, but be a bigger drain on both ships power and the onboard computer's systems."

"We'll need to do some reconfiguring of the Chicken's weapons systems to optimize them for this." Gavarus said, partially thinking out loud, hoping she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. "But... I think we can have these upgrades and shh... We can have these upgrades and systems prepped and ready in... Wait... What is our timeline for getting this ready, Commander?"

"There you go, see? The important questions," Paris replied with a smile, though still not directed at the sensor. "Whatever you're going to do, I need her operational and ready for deployment in 48 hours. As for the mission itself, it might come at any time after that, so I'll need you on operational standby. Which means no drinking, no sleeping off a drunk and you'll need to be prepared to be deployed at a moment's notice," the curvaceous commander said rather pointedly.

The commander turned to address the sensor, fixing them both with a steely gaze for a change. "Ensign Gavarus, you'll be the hand on the beaming controls, as well as monitoring the ship's systems and the pilot's vitals, so Ensign O'Dell's life will literally be in your hands. As for our little Leprechaun, this is a dangerous mission. But I know you can do it, and your actions on this mission may well be saving countless lives and considerable bloodshed. In addition, it will likely inform Starfleet development of this project for years to come, so the fate of the variable mode fighter craft project is also in your hands."

In her head, the stressed out Tellarite was complaining to herself, 'Oh, Yay! Stress, stress everywhere, and not a.drop to drink.' But she instead put on an awkward attempt at a professional posture. "Yes, Commander. We'll have the Chicken. Uh, the Thunder... banshee... We'll have the Variable Mode fighter ready to go."

"Aye mum. We'll do ye proud and take the enemy bridge, storm it like a proper boarding party, we will. I'll get ye me loadout for approval before the end of shift, and We kin test the transporters as soon as they're ready. We'll nae letcha doown, Commander Thu-ah, Paris." O'Dell nearly stumbled to use one of the many colorful nicknames the duo had invented for the intimidating first officer, but rectified at the last second. It passed with one cocked eyebrow turned their way, before Commander Paris offered her motivational closing.

"All right, that's what I want to hear," Paris offered a half-smile to the sensor, then she picked up the PaDD to give it her full attention, looking directly at them both. "Keep me apprised of progress, let me know if you have problems, and if your actions need justifying to your superiors or requisitions need authority, they come directly to me, understood?"

"Understood, Commander. Absolutely. Yes." Gavarus replied, overcompensating as she tended to do when talking to superior officers. With that said, the connection closed and the Commander’s image vanished. At which point O’Dell begin literally jumping up and down.

“Secret mission! You and me, Briaar! We’re g’win to prove her worth and get to go tear shite oop!” The energetic ensign was literally vibrating with excitement as she bounced about, dancing and twirling in circles. While her sore and stiff arms were still causing her pain and limiting her ability to straighten her arms, the pixie pilot was too excited to care about the pain.

Meanwhile, Gavarus slumped where she stood, looking at her PaDD. "How the hell are you this excited? How the hell do you have this much energy? YOU'RE gonna 'tear shit up'. I think she just included ME figuring you'd probably end up telling me about the project anyway."

“Ach, ye soggy-brained dunderhead! She included ye because she knows yuir the one what makes it all work, and because we’re a team! Dinna be s’grumpy, Briaar! We’re a demolition duo, ye and me! Thunder, thunder, Thunderchicken, hoooooo!”