I Volunteer

Posted on Thu Jun 20th, 2019 @ 7:56pm by Jaeih Dox-t'Aan & Commander Rita Paris

Mission: Fractured Fairy Tales
Location: USS Hera, Deck 13, Nursery playschool facilities
Timeline: 2396 - Post Tribunal

The tribunal between Captain Enalia Telvan and her mother, the former Queen Regent of the Artan Pirate family was concluded. And while the cost was great, the U.S.S. Hera's Captain was victorious and now had to manage the task of restructuring the family to move them into the future.

A key part of that victory came thanks to the investigative efforts of the Vulcan refugee from another dimension known as Az'Prel and her partner on the covert intelligence mission that provided key evidence that turned the tide of the tribunal, the former Romulan agent known as Jaeih Dox.

In her guarded quarters on Deck 8, the former smuggler and mother of the Hera's own chief flight officer, Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe Dox, was reading. In front of her was a stack of PaDD's that her clearance level had allowed her to access. As an unofficial member of the crew's Intelligence division, the elder Romulan woman was committed to making herself as useful as possible to the ship that had given the Starfleet prisoner another chance to matter.

As an agent with the Romulan Tal'Shiar, she honed a strong set of skills that she had rarely before had the opportunity to use for a just cause, and she couldn't help but feel strangely... good... for having helped in this last mission. While she was legally still in the custody of Starfleet Intelligence, that sentence had been transferred to the Hera as a part of a deal for her assistance in the tribunal. But her real reason for requesting the transfer was to try and be closer to her estranged daughter.

But that relationship was slowly healing, and Jaeih Dox suddenly found herself useful again. Commander Paris had given her a tremendous opportunity, allowing her to leave the ship in order to seek out the evidence that she and Az'Prel found. It was an exhilarating and extremely satisfying feeling and she wanted to repeat it through continued service to the Hera. So she was studying the ship’s Intelligence department and procedures. While her movements on the ship were still accompanied by a pair of guards, she felt freer than she had in over sixteen years.

As she sat, reading, a familiar chirp came over the customized Romulan sigil shaped comm badge she wore on her left breast.

“Mrs. Dox, would you be so kind as to join me on Deck 14 in the Nursery, please? I’d like your input, if you wouldn’t mind,” came the practically perennially cheerful voice of the USS Hera’s first officer. Commander Rita Paris.

Immediately, the elder Romulan woman put her PaDD down and tilted an eyebrow quizzically. "On my way, Commander."

It seemed like a strange place to meet; but in her short time working with the anachronistic human from another time, Jaeih had learned to expect the unexpected where Rita Paris was concerned. But there was something beyond her own daughter naming Paris as her sister that intrigued Jaeih. She found that Paris possessed some intangible quality that commanded respect without ever demanding it, in a way she never imagined a human could do.

As such, she stood up and straightened the grey, Starfleet Intelligence tunic she wore and stepped to the door to her chambers, grabbing a PaDD at the last second to take any notes required. Wooshing open, she addressed the two rather large female guards that were posted outside her door. Jaeih had noted that most all of the security officers on the Hera were exceedingly tall for women and massively muscled. And the two on duty today were no exceptions.

"Jolan'tru, officer Grell. Jolan'tru, officer Wagner. I have been requested on Deck 14 by Commander Paris, thank you." The guard's orders were clear. Jaeih Dox could come and go as she pleased, but not without a security escort. And while that might be because of her status as a technical prisoner of Starfleet, she was to be treated with all the respect of any dignitary or guest. As such, the two guards nodded with professional but pleasant smiles and followed behind the Romulan woman as she made her way out of her quarters.

After a short few minutes of walking and an even briefer turbolift ride to Deck 14, Jaeih walked up to where the ships directional maps told her was the Hera's nursery and the sight of Rita Paris waiting. "Commander Paris. How may I help you?"

“Well, start by showing up and the rest is downhill,” Paris quipped with an easygoing smile as she reviewed a clean room filled with cribs, all designed to pump vital gasses to newborns, whatever their preference might be for their species. Looking up, she recognized the bodyguards, with a nod to each.

“Ladies, you are relieved, on my orders. Please take the rest of the shift in the Armory practicing your zero G combat maneuvers, with my compliments.” Both of the Amazonian Security officers were surprised, but the simply offered nods of acknowledgment and departed the newborns section to follow the orders given by their curious commander.

“Now, let’s clear the air on that front, shall we?” As Paris spoke, she was still checking off the manifests, working on the task at hand. But when she spoke, it was a conversational and casual tone. “Starfleet requires there be certain restrictions on prisoners. As of now, you are no longer a prisoner of Starfleet Mrs. Dox, but a guest. It’s a nebulous difference, I’ll admit, but the Captain is still working out your pardon details, and that takes more oomph than I can muster these days. But in the meanwhile, given your time served and your recent performance in the service of Starfleet and the Captain in specific, I feel the least we can do is make you feel less like a distrusted prisoner and more of a trusted ally.”

At that, Paris looked up to make eye contact, having given the elder Romulan woman a chance to register what she was being told.

For a solid three seconds, Jaeih Dox simply stood there. Staring with a look of mild shock on her face. Or as much of a look of shock as her stern face allowed for. "Pardoned? I... my apologies, Commander. I believe I am at... an uncharacteristic loss for words."

“One of the reasons I made sure to dismiss your entourage… I imagine you’re not often caught by surprise, and I figured a smaller audience witnessing the event would be more to your liking,” the anachronistic officer explained.

"T... thank you. I am... I am very grateful to both yourself and Captain Telvan." It was clear she was still working the words out in her head, hardly believing them, but trying to react properly while her emotions caught up with her words. "Heh." She chuckled ever so slightly under her breath. A chuckle that sounded eerily like the awkward chuckle Rita Paris had heard countless times from Jaeih's daughter, Mnhei'sahe.

Which was no surprise- like mother, like daughter.

“In truth, I can’t take much credit. It was the captain- she was the one who arranged for your transfer, and she is the one seeking your pardon. All I did was give you a chance for you and Miss Az’Prel to do what you do best, and give you a chance. Which, you performed admirably, returned in plenty of time to present the evidence you procured and were invaluable in defending the crew during the bloodier parts of the Tribunal,” Paris recounted.

“In short, Mrs. Dox, you earned this… so it’s kind of you, but no thanks to me. I’m just the messenger, and the one who is relaxing security on you so that you can feel more like a member of the crew, and less like an outsider who is tolerated. You’ve earned this, Mrs. Dox. I have confidence that moving forward, you will continue to strive to prove your worth and outperform expectations.” Pausing for a second to consider whether to follow through with what came to mind, Paris, ever an intuitive leader, forged ahead with it. “Like mother, like daughter, so they say… and in your case, I see much of where Miss Dox gets her tenacity.”

"I can take very little credit for Mnhei'sahe, Commander. I did far more harm than good. But she has thrived here and with all of you. And for that, I am even more grateful." Jaeih replied, her focus on the nursery now as she spoke. "But I will admit, Commander, that performing the duties for the Captain's tribunal felt... good."

“I think you sell yourself short with Mnhei-sahe, Mrs. Dox. You laid the foundation, we just helped put the rest in order, and she herself has made enormous strides. So while we all pitched in, full credit goes to her. But, not the point.” Paris led the way out of the fetal nursery and moved into the pediatric ward that had been set up specifically to deal with the heightened pregnancy rate that had been sweeping the USS Hera since a certain first officer had plead for the goddess Hera to be maintained on the starship that bore her name. Which had resulted in an atypical pregnancy rate to begin amongst the crew, likely due to the presence of the Goddess of motherhood and families.

“The point is, you are smart, clever, and capable, and were you Academy trained I’d make you an officer,” Paris stated matter-of-factly. “But you are likely better served as an ‘intelligence asset’, a civilian operative. While I will admit that gives us plausible deniability, I think by this point you likely have a much better idea of who we are and how we do things on the Hera.”

“Assuming that the Captain manages to arrange that pardon, you will be a free agent once more, Mrs. Dox. Assuming that comes to pass, I wish you would consider remaining on the Hera.” There could be more said, but Rita figured she should let that bit sink in first. Finding out the bars and guards were being removed and freedom was at hand was a lot to process all at once, and she had to give the woman a moment.

Again, like mother, like daughter.

But this time, Jaeih didn't miss a beat. "Given the opportunity, I would be honored to continue serving here on the Hera, Commander. I... like it here. I like the work. And I very much like being near Mnhei'sahe. So, for as long as you have need of my skills, you may consider them at your disposal."

Lifting an eyebrow, Jaeih smiled ever so slightly. "I know a thing or two about intelligence, as does Miss Az'Prel. And I believe we can both be of further use on a ship that deals in the kinds of business the Hera does."

"Suspected you might," Paris tapped on a panel and followed the basic precautions to create a sterile field underneath the console, then shut it down to move on to the next unit. "I'm glad to see that I was correct, on both counts."

"Speaking frankly," Paris turned to eye the rebellious Romulan appraisingly. "You're both rather singular individuals... and in both cases, you are born survivors. I was hoping you two would work well together. I've yet to debrief Az'Prel, but I read your report- which was comprehensive without being boring, thank you. I'll likely be pairing the two of you off together more often than not, because an effective partnership can be everything in the field."

"Assuming you both are in agreement, of course. As civilians, I can't order you to do anything. You aren't a part of the chain of command, so that means you are strictly volunteer. I'm banking on the fact that I might have earned enough trust from you both. That you'll trust me not to squander your time, your talents or your lives when I ask you to go on a mission." This was more turnabout, as Rita Paris introduced new elements into the equation. As a prisoner, Jaeih Dox had been compelled to do as her jailers demanded, period. Coming aboard the Hera she was still technically a prisoner, although treated better with only a pair of escorts.

Now with the Captain's pending pardon, it meant she would be a free citizen of the galaxy once more. Which meant that no one could order her. No one could compel her. Once again, it was her and her wits against the universe... only this time she was far from alone. Her daughter had found family amongst the stars, and had pleaded for her mother to be summoned to join it.

In doing so, she would be free.

"Commander..." Jaeih looked around as she thought hard on Rita Paris's words. "Was this choice of locale intended to reinforce the unspoken metaphor? A place for new life to begin?"

She turned to face the golden-clad human that she actually liked. "If so, it was a good idea. I am not immune to sentiment, after all. I... am beginning to understand why Mnhei'sahe feels the way she does about you. You engender trust, Commander. And if it means anything, you have earned mine as well."

Turning to smile at the former smuggler, Paris managed to make it look somehow self-effacing. "I'm glad of that, Mrs. Dox. I've never been anything but honest with you, and I never will. I've done my best to be plain-spoken, as good as my word and say just what's on my mind, no subterfuge. It's how I am with everyone for the most part, but with you... I suspect you haven't had a lot of reason to trust people in this life." The statement carried no accusation with it- it wasn't even a question, just a statement of fact from someone who clearly understood it to be true.

"I've always known how important you were to Mnhei'sahe, so that made you important to me too. You could have affected her greatly for weal or woe, and I always hoped for the better. That's why I came to see you at Starfleet when we came to Earth. When we left that day, I was angry because... well, you'd hurt my friend, my sister. It wasn't my place to say what I did, I know. But in my defense, I was pretty angry. And I did keep it down to one word..." Paris chuckled at that and shook her head.

"You do seem to have labored under the misconception that I don't like you, Mrs. Dox. Which simply isn't true," Paris wagged her finger as she stepping to a playroom that was filled with balls, rubber blocks and a number of things fund for small children to play with but with limited potential for harm. "I told you I respected you and I wanted to get to know you, and that never changed. You came round, figured it all out and straightened things out with your daughter."

"That's something about the Hera you'll find, Mrs. Dox. Here, we're families building families, strengthening bonds until we are all an extended family. The ship is named after the goddess of women, motherhood, and family, after all," Paris smiled enigmatically. Not every secret had to come in one conversation, she reasoned.

Across the starship, hearing someone proselytizing her, the goddess Hera looked up from the cookbook in her lap, smiled, shook her head, then continued pursuing a recipe to make for the afternoon shift of her honor guard.

Meanwhile, back in the nursery of the ship bearing Hera's name, the woman who was very likely being influenced for the better by the goddess' presence she knew nothing about, bent to the ground next to Rita to pick up a small, soft block. On one side of the block was the human standard word 'friends'. On each of the other sides were the words with the equivalent meaning in Vulcan, Rihan, Klingon, Andorian, Tellarian and another language she didn't recognize.

"Family," Jaeih muttered to herself. "I am... afraid of that, Commander. I never did it very well and was dismissive of the concept of family when I tried raising her. And that failure on my part has colored Mnhei'sahe's point of view concerning family."

Jaeih stood back up, straightening her gray tunic as she did. "Mona... Ensign Gonadie has expressed an interest to Mnhei'sahe in... starting a family. But my daughter is reluctant. She is reluctant, in part, out of fear that as a mother, she would end up being...well... too much like... well... like me, Commander." For the first time in a while, Rita could see Jaeih's face completely betray her. She was genuinely upset and ashamed.

"She is... a far better person than I am and I have no doubt she will have learned from my many shortcomings." Jaeih tried to clear the emotion from her face with only moderate success.

"I've heard it said that we choose our paths," Paris replied softly speaking carefully and couching her words. "When it comes to parenting, those of us whose parents were less than warm or loving or supportive, or any of the things we wish they had been that they were not... we make choices. Some will repeat those mistakes, call it tradition, and never consider we may have been wrong. But for some, we resolve to be better to our children, not to repeat the cycles our parents were caught in that they taught us. While Miss Dox's childhood may have been lesser than she may have desired, as an adult she has learned better ways. That alone might be enough."

"But in the here and now, she has you as an example. And in the here and now, you've changed considerably in the past few months. People aren't all stagnant creatures, dedicated to continuing the regrets of the past. We can grow, change, evolve, and become so much more if given the chance." Picking up another block from the floor, Paris held one that said 'Momma' on one face, repeating the name for the female parent in six different languages, one per side.

"I believe you can be better than your past. Mrs. Dox. Because you have had opportunities to prove it... and once you figured it out, you rose to the challenge. I believe in Miss Dox too. She too sells herself short, has an annoying habit of blaming herself for life's problems and believing she cannot rise above who she was, to be who she wishes she could be. Never once seeing how far she's come when she stumbles." Handing the block to the fierce Romulan matron, Paris smiled.

"In so many ways, she is her mother's daughter. But she has Mona Gonadie with her, who dreams of sharing their nest with little birds of prey. Who will always act as a leavening influence for Mnhei'sahe, and provide balance to their children. For now, here, in this temporary place in space and time," Paris gestured grandly to the starship upon which they traveled, "she has all of us to help her... and she has the example of her own mother. The woman who saw the mistakes of the past and, instead of justifying them, owned them and is working to build a better tomorrow with her family."

"Don't imagine for a moment that it is unnoticed, and don't put yourself down over it- I won't hear it from Dox the younger, and I won't have it from Dox the senior," the canny commander smiled, scooping up a ball to bounce it off the floor, off a wall and back to her hand. "You are teaching her, in the here and now, that the specter of her childhood was just a very real person making hard choices. And an adult she sees those choices and accepts them, as should you. I will tell you the same thing I told her, Miss Dox, that a wise and canny old Deltan once taught to me."

"If you wish to be a better person..." Paris stepped out of the playroom, tossing the ball over her shoulder. "to make the universe a better place. To do better than those who raised you, to teach children love and support instead of cold hard lessons- then be better. Every day, in little ways, make your choices to be better than you were, better than your past, better than your mistakes. Choose to be a better person, and in short order, that makes you a better person. You might think it too simplistic a philosophy to work, but I assure you- once you start to work to be better, you will find that the universe responds in kind, Mrs. Dox."

Pausing at that, Paris laughed, a musical sound, and shook her head. "I'm sorry Mrs. Dox. I am lecturing... a habit I got from my father, I'm afraid. But unlike his lectures, mine are meant to uplift, not denigrate. I hope you will forgive an old lady for going on a bit."

The cagey Romulan smiled. It was the same quirky grin her Daughter displayed from time to time, usually when she was feeling more comfortable. "In your own way, you are quite the master manipulator, Commander. Perhaps you don't think of it in those terms as they often have negative connotations. But you are. You observe, you isolate a weakness and you attack it. But instead of trying to use it to your advantage, you drag it into the light and force those to whom you are speaking to address that shortcoming honestly. You find that weakness and you verbally destroy it from all angles until the subject has nary a choice but to see themselves from your less jaded point of view. It's... almost insidious how good you are at this."

It might have sounded like an insult, but her tone made it clear that she was being extremely complimentary. "Referencing your own father, you show a functional example of the exact point you had just made. Just in case I wanted to argue the point." The elder Dox chuckled.

Initially taken aback by the observation, the face of the ancient astronaut displayed surprise and some degree of dismay. But as the explanation unfolded and came forth, a wry smile settled onto her face, one of chagrin. "I suppose I can't argue that, Mrs. Dox. In my own way, I am my father's daughter. I just... I believe in the good in people. I believe in our better natures, and I believe that we can be so much more than our petty differences. I believe in the dream of the United Federation, and of Starfleet." Gesturing to the starship upon which they traveled, she held her hands palms up. "It works."

Listening, Jaeih thought for a moment on what Rita had just said, considering her reply carefully. "I never have. As you may imagine, growing up in the Star Empire, I was not exactly raised with a particularly balanced view of Starfleet or the Federation. And my own experiences in the military and the Tal'Shiar didn't exactly show me anything to change my opinions."

The elder Dox paced slightly, her hands folded behind her back. Yet another trait shared by her daughter. "My encounters with Starfleet officers showed me a people who loved spouting pretty words, but whose eyes revealed a different message. A message of 'you will be like us, and you will accept it with a smile, or else'. I saw the same petty hypocrisy I would soon learn to see on my own homeworld. With my own people."

"Then... when Mnhei'sahe joined and began sending me messages from here, I was afraid. I began hearing such similar words and thoughts to what you just said and, at first, I was resistant to the ideas. I had assumed she had simply been, for lack of a better word, assimilated." Jaeih knew that referencing the Borg as a point of comparison to Starfleet might go over like a proverbial lead balloon, but she also felt that she had little choice but to be completely honest if this relationship between the two women were to work.

"But over time, I saw none of the fire in her eyes diminish. Instead, I saw that fire grow as she grew. I saw her gain confidence and I saw a legitimate hope in her eyes. She believed what she was saying. Not because she had to, but because it changed her for the better." Jaeih continued. "And that is when I began to realize that I needed to reevaluate Starfleet in the same way I had once learned to question my beliefs in my own government.”

“When I met you, I saw why Mnhei'sahe had been so changed for the better. You were her example, and the two things that I know about you above everything else, Commander, is that you are no hypocrite and you may actually be physically incapable of lying." the elder Romulan added with a grin.

That caused the comely commander to actually burst out in laughter, which took her a few seconds to subside. Making her way to one of the classrooms, the door whooshed open at their approach even as the first officer wiped away a tear the peals of laughter had brought. “It’s true… I deny nothing. I am a genuinely spectacularly awful liar, which one would think would be more of a detriment in Starfleet Intelligence. That said… thank you.”

“It means a lot to me that you hold me in such high regard, and I am humbled and flattered. I do my best to live up to the ideals I swore to uphold, and to be perfectly frank, all I ever have to do is wonder how my father would have handled the situation, and I do the opposite.” Inspecting the cubby shelves anchored to the bulkhead, the desks with storage beneath them and the monitors which dominated three of the four walls, Paris nodded with satisfaction as she did so. “Compassion is never a mistake, particularly to an enemy. Truth is stronger than any lie. Uplift those around you, so that all can succeed. Recognize potential and instill confidence.”

“I know it all probably sounds hokey in the modern day,” the enigmatic executive explained. “But that’s what I believe the Federation was always meant to be, and those are the principles by which I live my life. Having seen a span of a few years, while I am occasionally disappointed… overall I am very happy that the dream of old Starfleet is alive and well.”

Following closely behind, Jaeih scoffed in a light, clearly facetious fashion. "Well, given time, I'm sure you will have ample opportunity to convince me to change my mind on the organization as a whole. If anyone can, I suspect it will be you."

“I’ll do my best,” Paris replied, with a smile that was as genuine as the statement.

Then Jaeih's tone shifted to a more serious, focused one. "That said, regardless of if the Captain can secure a pardon for me, you, she, my daughter and this ship will have the full application of my services and skills until such time as you no longer require them. Or I simply get too old to be useful." Then she smiled lightly again. "From one old lady to another."

“Hah! You’re not that old, Mrs. Dox,” Paris reassured the woman to whom relevance was something she had given up on long ago, for whom the first taste of it in a long time was clearly deeply significant to her. “I suspect the Hera will long since have been decommissioned and her crew scattered to the stars before you get too old to be useful. You’ll outlive me more than likely, as well as most of the crew of the Hera. And don’t discount the Captain- she never makes a promise she can’t keep, but she is pretty determined in this case. Sixteen years is a very long time to serve for a smuggling charge, after all.”

"That said..." Jaeih tilted her head slightly, "I know you originate from a much earlier time, but how old are you, in actuality?"

“All right, but we’re going to put my credibility to the test here…” Paris joked, as she tapped at her PaDD.

Bringing up the monitors on the walls, Paris slaved them to her PaDD and began bringing up images. “I was born in the Earth year 2233, which probably means less to you historically than my usual frame of reference, in which I explain that I’m a month older than Captain James T. Kirk.” Onscreen, an image of old San Francisco at the time of her birth came onscreen. “I was there with him when he beat the Kobayashi Maru test, and I am a legacy Starfleet officer- there has been a Paris in Starfleet since before we even called it Starfleet.”

Another image came up, that of a graduation holo of a woman who looked like she might be the rather plain-looking sister of the woman who stood explaining her convoluted history, clad in a red minidress with no rank on her sleeve, dated 2255. Another image of the Starfleet Academy Class of 2255 came onscreen, and an arrow pointed out the short-haired crimson-clad cosmonaut in the third row of a graduating class of 210 officers, a graduating class so small as to be unheard of in the modern day.

“All of which makes me sound like some grand immortal, but I am all too mortal, I assure you. I skipped a few years of aging while I was trapped as a warp ghost on the original Constitution for nearly five years, in which my body didn’t age. Transporter accident as a result of sabotage from a certain someone in my family who did not want me shipping out to the stars,” Paris relayed casually, as if it no longer bothered her to discuss the matter. However, to the trained observer it was obvious that the experience still haunted her. Onscreen, the report listing her as killed in action displayed, bearing the year 2359 even as the red minidress uniform had been traded for a gold one with a singular rank ribbon on the sleeve.

“Then another transporter accident catapulted me through space, time and dimension to land here in the year 2395.” A trideo image came onscreen, that of Rita Paris reintegrating from ghostly translucent energy to solid matter in the experimental transporter that had reassembled her in the modern day. Which made it abundantly clear just exactly how physically painful the experience had been for her to endure, although fortunately there was no sound. “So I’ve been here about a year now… near as I can tell, while I am chronologically considered 163 years old, I physically somewhere around thirty? Doc says thirty-three, so I take their word for it.”

Pausing for a moment to let the Romulan woman take it all in, the courageous chrononaut raised her hand as if reciting a pledge. “True story. I’m also from a splinter timeline, as I am not THAT Rita Paris, but a dimensional variant of the original. Which tends to convolute the story a bit, but you’ve met Az’Prel, so… well, it’s a very big universe filled with possibilities, Mrs. Dox.”

“Hopefully that explains a great number of things, not the least of which is my uniform. Captain Telven agreed to let me keep wearing it, because… I’m more comfortable in it. I AM old Starfleet. I prefer to be honest with people about that, and my uniform explains far better than I can retell the tale. Which also explains why I often have trouble operating modern technology, and why my knowledge of history is often faulty or completely lacking, as I haven’t read up on everything that happened in the last 130 odd years.” Having wound down the explanation, Rita ended it with an image of the senior staff of the USS Hera taken the year before, with faces both familiar and unfamiliar onscreen.

"Well, that wasn't exactly the answer I would have expected, but from my talks with Az'Prel, it's only moderately surprising." Jaeih replied, slightly taken aback, but composed. "Actually, even less so considering the events Mnhei'sahe was able to tell me about that she personally has been involved with in her time here. An unusual ship, indeed."

“Filled with unusual individuals, Mrs. Dox, and that diversity lends us considerable strength,” Paris remarked.

"I suppose I should at least attempt to be prepared for the inexplicable as much as possible in my role here..." As she spoke, she paused to consider a simple fact she hadn't thought to ask until right then.

"Which brings me to another question. What will my duties be here on the day to day?"

“Ideally in the day to day, you’ll work with Chief Clemens analyzing data and intel traffic, the usual cryptographics, translations, what have you. There might come some research projects, and if you have ideas we’re open to hearing them. I read the Intel reports, but it definitely isn’t my bailiwick, so that’s likely a discussion to have with Chief Clemens, our head of Intel. In fact, perhaps you and Miss Az’prel should both sit down with him. Because again, you are civilians- thus you are beholden to no one, and your duties will be strictly volunteer.” A sly smile crept across the face of the first officer as she shut down the classroom displays.

“On that note, you are more than welcome to train with the Security staff. As a mistress and instructor of Romulan martial arts, you bring considerable expertise to the table, and my people tend to enjoy sparring with those who can teach them something.” Strolling out of the classroom, Paris looked over the water tank where tropical fish were still on back order, but it would provide an alternate environment for any water-breathing children who required such an environment. “Miss Dox already trains with them, as does Miss Az’Prel. Now, I have a counter question for you, ma’am. Given that it’s the first time in a long time someone has asked, what would YOU like for your duties to be?”

"Well..." she thought as she followed the leggy Commander through the nursery level. "Volunteer or not, I would not expect my duties to differ from any other crewmember. That said, as a member of the Tal'Shiar, the tasks I enjoyed the most were very in line with this last mission. Investigation is... fulfilling. As is crypo-analasys is also something I... excelled at. There's a reason Mnhei'sahe knows multiple languages."

Cutting herself off, she muttered what could only be described as a 'mom moment's under her breath. "I do hope she's kept up on her Vulcan."

"Well, we've enemies out there, for certain. Perhaps you could start by analyzing our last year's worth of logs and missions, and see what patterns emerge? We might be seeing a shift in galactic power or something and not even realize it. That way you'll become familiar with the sort of work we do, and you can look for patterns and loose ends. Not field work, I'll admit-" At that, Paris snapped her fingers.

"The deposed queen, Arenara. She will have had contingencies and cels of agents waiting to make their moves- likely not many, but no one that underhanded ever walks away cleanly. Blackmail envelopes are likely arriving and all that sort of mastermind of evil Moriartyism is likely occurring." Pivoting with military precision, Paris turned on the slightly shorter woman.

Instantly, Jaeih was at full attention, processing Paris' words and already sussing out a strategy. "Indeed. As arrogant as she had become, it's likely that there are already contingencies in place to try and undermine the Captain or worse."

"If you and Ms. Az'Prel are so inclined, would you like to investigate the fortress and the local business holdings of the Artan fleet, to ferret out any remaining skullduggery that might still be afoot, Mrs. Dox?" A Commander she was, and every inch an officer. But Rita Paris had no trouble whatsoever very politely asking the remarkably capable Romulan spy in the politest of tones to follow her request, which was nothing like an order at all.

Nodding, slightly, The former Romulan operative raised an eyebrow. "I cannot speak for Az'Prel, but I am fairly certain that she would be amenable to this plan, Commander. And as far as my involvement goes..."

Pausing for a second, Jaeih Dox smiled ever so slightly at the Commander. "...I volunteer."