TRIBUNAL Part 8 - On The Launchpad

Posted on Sun Jun 16th, 2019 @ 11:32pm by Kodria Mizu & Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus
Edited on on Mon Jul 1st, 2019 @ 11:14am

Mission: Fractured Fairy Tales
Location: USS Hera, Deck 3, R&D Department
Timeline: 2396

Continued from 'Charges of Tarrasque Abuse'

As soon as the landing party had beamed down for the beginning of the Tribunal, Ensign Fiona O'Dell had been on duty, suited up in her EVA armor and sitting inside the cockpit of the Thunderchicken. The surface of the experimental multipurpose craft was now covered in the same dark pearlescence as the hull of the Hera herself, with ultraviolet crimson internal accent lighting which caused the entire craft look surprisingly sinister.

Standing on the modified transporter unit, Ensign Briaar Gavarus had set up to accommodate both the pint-sized pilot and the starship that converted to become powered armor, the walker mode had been engaged. Of all of the modes, O'Dell favored this one, the hybrid between fighter craft and robot. She still had arms and legs to manipulate, but she flew more like a VTOL fighter jet. Shifting slightly, the robot reached over to scratch it's shiny metal ass.

"Ye know what woulda made this duty more enjoyable?" O'Dell called from the cockpit to the monitoring station, where she could see Gavarus through the transparent aluminum viewport. "Beer."

"Don't frickin' remind me, Fee." The grumpy Tellarite engineer grumbled from her post. "Three frickin' days dry is three days too many."

Days ago when the pair had received their secret orders for this mission from Commander Paris, it came with the explicit instructions to not drink for the duration of the mission and its preparation. Clearly, their reputations preceded them as much as their skillsets.

"So, uh, look... while there's nobody around and ye kin edit this oot of the logs... if something happens to me, I want you to have me liquor cabinet. And me good beer flagons. And me squeezebox, because even you could learn how to play it," O'Dell casually rattled off a few of her personal belongings in amongst the load of knick-naks and instruments and collected yet organized clutter that constituted her quarters.

"Two things... One, I planned on taking that beer flagon at some point anyway. And two... You're going to be fine." Gavarus could hear the very real concern in her best friend's voice and wasn't going to let her stress if she could help it.

"That thing is the most sturdy small craft in Starfleet right now. You are going to kick ass and we will get shitfaced later and you can tell me how much you made them piss themselves when you tore the dome off of that shit ass bridge."

"Aye... aye, that's how it'll goo..." O'Dell murmured, as the mech shifted, the left arm crossing over to hold the right one by the elbow, a pose that looked oddly familiar to Gavarus as petite pilot tended to do the same thing when she was nervous or apprehensive about something. "How d'ye think it's going down there? Maybe it'll all get settled in court and I willnae have to go, aye?"

"Well, if there's anyone that can talk someone literally to death, it's Paris. That woman could win an argument with a black frickin' hole." Gavarus shrugged, picking up on O'Dell's continued anxiety as she kept trying to bolster the confidence of the pint-sized pilot.

"But however it goes down, we've got this worked out from every angle. We've got three layers of modular shielding as strong as the Hera's own. Diffusive paneling to take almost any impact and weapons out the ass."

"Aye, aye... 'll be safe as houses..." O'Dell murmured, followed by a long moment of silence. When she spoke again, the tinny chirp of the little leprechaun's voice was nearly a whisper, although the comms picked it up just fine. "Kin... kin I tell ye a secret, Briaar? It's... not exactly the best time for it, but... I feel like I ought to maybe tell someone, ye know?"

Trying to decide if she should keep trying to diffuse Fiona's anxiety or just be sincere, the usually gruff and sarcastic engineer decided to put a lid on her usual smart-assed answers. "Yeah. Of course. What's going on, Fee?"


"I've... I've nivvir killed innyone, Briaar. I know, I know, I'm in Starfleet and sometimes that means duty and alla that and this is a dangerous situation and I'll be defendin' me ship and crew but... I've never killed anyone, and I'm gonna be blowing my way onto a bridge that might joost decompress as soon as I do, and alla those people will be dead then, and that'll be on me. Or they might be ready for me even though the Commander thinks this is all g'win ta be some greet surprise fuir the pirates, but... what if it's not? What if they're ready for me? What if they joost shoot me and that's that and..."

The anxiety of the miniature Mariposian was abundantly clear, and the more she talked, the faster she talked, which meant that she was winding up, getting more and more nervous about her pending mission, until, very quietly, in a voice quavering with a fear that was far from her casually cheerful and sarcastic approach to most things, O'Dell stated the simple fact of the matter.

"I'm bloody terrified, Briaar. I'm tryin' nae ta be, boot I'm so scared I'd run away reet noow if I thought I could git awee wi' it," O'Dell admitted, her voice getting a bit squeakier as it was evident that in giving voice to her fears, she had begun to cry. "I dinna want to kill innyone and I dinna want to die. I know pilots are supposed to be ace combat flyers, and in sims I do great but... these are real people. And I could really die, and I dinna want ta die. I dinna."

Listening intently, Briaar Gavarus nodded as her best friend bared her soul. As soon as O'Dell finished, the tubby Tellarite replied in a voice that was calmer and more even-keeled than O'Dell had ever heard from her best friend.

"The primary weapon you have in there is transporter tags. They're programmed to transport any organic object they hit instantly to our brig. If their force fields hold the air in, you can peg them at your leisure. If the room decompresses, hit rapid fire and you will spray them all. The matter load for the ammo tags will allow you to fire up to ten thousand of those little friggin things in a few seconds." Gavarus commented, running down the technical specs of the enhancements made to the Thunderchicken's weapons.

"And no handheld weapon I've seen on file for these assholes can damage that armor you're in without sustained fire for nearly a minute. I've tested the shields and armor on our own best weapons. But even if, by some miracle, they can crack that armor, well there's this." As she spoke, the engineer's thick finger pressed a single button on her console.

In less than a second, with a rapid burst of blue light, O'Dell appeared in a seated position on the cargo transporter pad to Gavarus's side.

"Emergency transporter." Gavarus replied with an uncharacteristically warm smile. "I programmed this myself. It's cycling through the ships main computer, keyed specifically for you and you alone. It's allowed 300 percent more energy and computing power than the standard pattern buffers. One second evac with one button activation."

Big green eyes wide with surprise, Fiona O'Dell blinked a few times as she processed it all, then stood, patting herself down in the EVA armor before looking up at her flight engineer and best friend. Eyes filling with tears, the little lass in the EVA armor stepped over to hug her friend who was looking out for her, arms not making it around the thick tinkerer's waist, but she held the hug for a few seconds.

"Thank you," the panicked pilot whispered, a statement encompassing not only the technological preparations, but knowing that the usually unflappable underdog would likely be terrified going on this mission, and that O'Dell would need reassurance. In receiving it, the tiny test pilot showed her gratitude to her bestie in a manner very much not like an officer. It was, however, quite thoroughly heartfelt.

For her part, the usually prickly pig just smiled that same smile she had, looking down at Fiona. "You won't have to let anyone die. And you sure as HELLS aren't dying on me. I've got one friend and I don't know how to clone you just yet. So I've gotta keep you where I can see you."

Releasing her porcine pal from the hug, O'Dell stepped back and her face shield retracted, the helmet stowing itself into the back of the Extra Vehicular Atmospheric suit, hard-armored though it was to make it more armor than spacesuit. Inside, O'Dell's mop of curls was stowed beneath the black cowl of the pressure suit, even as a few of them managed to escape to frame the tear-stained face of the talented test pilot. Mopping at her eyes with the back of her armored hand, O'Dell sniffled.

"Some fearless Starfleet officer, huh? Ye kin, ah, edit the logs so the Lieutenant and Commander or nobody else sees alla that, aye?" O'Dell joked as she fished around for some composure, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Hotshot pilots in revolutionary new spacecraft did not break down crying in terror while they waited for the mission to start, after all, and it certainly wouldn't do for her superiors to hear her whining like a little girl before she was to be beamed into a war zone.

"Yeah, of course." Gavarus said, matter-of-factly as she ran the Thunderchicken's command sequence to return it to vehicle mode and open the canopy so O'Dell could get back in. In all reality, as she worked, she had no idea how to actually edit the ships logs.

"But it's like you said to me, she didn't give us these jobs because she didn't think we could do it, right? And even Ensign Gonadie and Lieutenant Dox can't match your numbers in the Chicken. You've got this, Fee. And I've got you, so @#$& everything else." It was clear that Gavarus was nervous as well. This assignment was all kinds of terrifying for the two, untested young junior officers.

"Aye, yuir right. I'm really in nae a lotta danger, strewth, and I might joost be able ta do this wi'oot killin innyone. Which I guess is oop ta them, really. Me shields are waveform, aye? Hugged to the hull?" The nervous little test pilot looked around. "She's on the pad ready ta go, if ye change her back too walker mode. Ye kin beam me in, and dinna think I canna scramble oop that arm ta climb into the cockpit, I'll show ye a thing or two."

"But fur noow what do ye say we git a cup of coffee, aye? We're nae more'n twenty paces from our stations, but we've nae got to literally be in position unless tis red alert, y'ken? So let's take a break?" The little leprechaun had calmed down considerably, but even after all that chatter she was still a bit jumpy- a bad thing for a test pilot about to take an experimental spacecraft into combat.

"Yeah, that's fine. Pretty sure we just need to be ready, not hovering. But I don't think you need anything with frickin' caffeine." Gavarus replied, smirking as they walked over to the replicator. "We don't need the Chicken mimicking your every hyperactive twitch."

"Well, I canna hae' inny whiskey, which is likely fuir the best, and I canna have inny beer on the Commander's orders- plus bein' on duty and all. What'm I supposed to do? Drink tea like a Sasanach?" As they moved to the small break room the R&D department had set up, which also overlooked their little chunk of the Deck 3 flight deck, O'Dell fell into her usual two steps to one of Gavarus, familiar patterns soothing her jangled nerves. "I canna eat innything or I'll hurl in me helmet from nerves, aye?"

"I dunno, ginger ale and soup? If you want coffee, have coffee. Besides, tea has just as much caffeine anyway and..." Gavarus cricked an eyebrow up in mild confusion. "Wait. What the frickin' hell is a 'sasa...' whatever your said. A Sasquatch?"

"Sasanach. S'what the Irish call the British. Me Da allays said it, and I had ta look it oop at the Academy. Turns oot tis a thing," O'Del climbed up onto one of the fixed chair seats attached to the break room table, a standard Starfleet design that enabled both very differently sized officers a table both could fit at comfortably.

"Yuir right. Me orders are for demolition, but the targets are literally marked before I get inside, all I have to do is cut loose and hope nobody's in me firing arc. I'll have height advantage, so there's that at least. And the squad to back me oop if the crew vents to space."

"This is a well-planned mission," O'Dell realized as she started stacking up the points, reviewing the mission parameters. "I'm piloting the premier in personal bloody war machine technology. I've got me own flight engineer monitoring and ready to beam me oot in the wink of an eye. Hell, beam me back in too, if I'm needed. I've practiced in that big goony bird- I know what I'm doing oot there. And we both been runnin' every day, so e'en if it turns into a runnin battle, I kin keep oop fuir a while, I can. This is g'win ta work, this plan. Those poor pirate bastards are nivvir g'win ta know what hit 'em, aye?"

At that, O'Dell had walked herself full circle on her own logic and come out the other side with a positive mental state and emotional attitude, baring a toothy grin to match.

Chucking, Gavarus walked back to the table with two coffees, and placed them both on the table. "Oh, they'll know what hit them. You don't get your bridge dome tore off by a big ass robot every day. It's going to go in the frickin' record book. I'm actually looking forward to seeing it."

"Waaaahhl, blown open, really. Commander said she wants this agony thing taken oot first, so that's me point of entry- I'm comin through that wall with plasma grenades eatin me way in and the phaser cannon meltin what's left ta slag. Or it explodes oot at me, in which case, evasive maneuvers, like ye do," O'Dell explained casually. "Squad's comin in behind me, they're bein beamed oota the Armory apparently, and usin maneuverin jet packs to get to the hull and magnetize. They're to tag any civilians that fly by, and march in if I get into trouble on their bridge. Apparently the squad twill be Coach Jablonski and a pack of her wayward girls with significant musculature."

Taking a sip of her coffee with a wry smirk, Gavarus replied. "Well, now I absolutely will be watching that feed." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively before returning to a more serious tone.

"You doing okay, Fee?"

"Yeah!" O'Dell nodded, then looked up at Gavarus. with a less confident smile. "I'm... I'm still kinda scared. Even knowing alla the safety precautions in place it's... I dunno. It's stupid, but I canna help it. I'll do the job, but all I kin think of is something I learned in a Starfleet ethics class. S'a quote from an ancient earth philosopher named Campbell. It goes, 'A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.' I'm no hero, Briaar, but I feel like this is somethin' bigger'n meself."

Sipping her coffee, Gavarus smiled. "Yeah. I remember that crap too. Very dramatic and romantic. I argued with the professor for, like, an hour over it."

"And considering how many times you've pulled my ample ass out of trouble, that already qualifies you as giving your life to something bigger. I'm a lot damn bigger than you." It was about as close as the gruff engineer could get to calling O'Dell her hero.

"Awwwww," O'Dell rolled her eyes. "I think if ye look at it I'm usually the one gettin us into trouble, really. But tis sweet of ye to say all the same." The deflections rolled off easily, but O'Dell thought about it for a moment. "I guess I kind of have. We spend every waking moment pretty much together, and half the time we pass oot at one another's places, so even a lot of the non-waking moments. I guess... I have given me life over."

With that train of thought put out on the table, O'Dell cupped her coffee cup with both hands and blew on it, not really sure what to say next.

Instead, Gavarus picked up her coffee mug and tapped it against O'Dell's and took a sip. "Me too, Leprechaun. And it frickin' works for me."

Looking up, O'Dell smiled at the easy acceptance, and her eyes misted up a bit. Which was when the red alert klaxon sounded throughout the starship, and the mighty vessel shuddered with an impact.

"AGH!" The pixie pilot fell off her stool, hit the ground then immediately scrambled to her feet like a mongoose. "Gotta git oop, gotta goo goo gooo!"

Bolting for the door, the armored astronaut yanked it open and scrambled for her mech, which stood awaiting her on the large transporter pad.

Running right behind, Gavarus rushed to her console station and entered her security code to unlock the station for ready mode as she shouted out to the pint sized pilot. "I can beam you right back in the cockpit. It's all pre-programmed. Just sit like you're in there."

"Nae, I toldye..." O'Dell, true to her word, scrambled with ease like a spider monkey up the arm of the mech, even as she transmitted instructions from her armor to unlock and open the cockpit for her. Smoothly she hopped into the cockpit, landing with surprising precision.

"Alreet, sealin systems, let me get hardwired," Reeling out the contact ports for the small starship from her EVA armor, Ensign O'Dell plugged the ports into the ship's computer and the ship's backup computer. As the systems aligned, her helmet snapped into place over her head, as the pilot of the Thunderchicken had to be prepared to lose cabin pressurization at any point.

Thruster systems came online and the hybrid robot/spacecraft hovered off the transporter pad, even as weapons systems lit up and shields sprang into being, their frequency already synched with the transporter signal.

The unlikely partners in crime were as ready as they were ever going to be. Now all that was left to do was wait for the order to deploy.

To be continued in 'Operation: Thunderchicken'