A Mini Shower

Posted on Tue Aug 20th, 2019 @ 9:14am by Lieutenant Mona Gonadie & Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus & Ensign John Carrott
Edited on on Fri Aug 23rd, 2019 @ 8:48am

Mission: Mudd on the Souls of Mankind
Location: 10 Forward
Timeline: 2396

THUMP!

“Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa”

“John, it’s your turn, dear.”

These were the sounds that started the day for Ensign John Carrott. Bleary-eyed he crawled out of bed to investigate the cause of his daughter's wails. The artificial gravity felt like it had been increased as the weariness seeping into his bones dragged at Carrott, but a smile graced his face nonetheless.

After a brief shamble over to baby Minerva’s crib, he saw the reason for the sound effects in his quarters. Minerva Carrott, adopted by John and his wife Amy, was fiercely kicking her crib and had managed to knock one of the wooden slats out of the side, which promptly went flying and knocked over a small statuette in the shape of the Hera that was on a nearby side table.

That’s the third time she’s managed to break something on that crib. Heavy-duty my butt. Better get a crib in a more durable material made… Carrott thought.

Reaching into the crib, John picked up Minerva’s squirming furry form. The little Minotaur had been quite the surprise to the crew of the Hera, not expecting Zeus’s interference had perhaps been an oversight with Hera aboard the ship that was her namesake, but John couldn’t care less. This was his daughter and he loved her dearly….horns and all.

Carefully dodging said horns he managed to hold her over his heart, lightly thumping her back with one hand while supporting her with the other, and paced slowly around his living area cooing her back to sleep. As her wails turned into contented gurgles and then into a tiny snore Carrott made his way back to his bed.

Placing Minnie, as everyone had already begun to call Minerva, in the middle of the bed, John looked into his wife’s eyes. She was 8.5 months pregnant with the couple’s first biological child and looked not entirely unlike a broom with a beach ball taped to its middle. Slight of build with sandy-blonde hair and green eyes, Amy Carrott had always been a soft-spoken presence, a calm personage that balanced John’s neurosis. She slowly stroked the fur on Minnie’s arms, soothing the babe into a deeper sleep.

“She broke another slat in her bed,” John said quietly.

Amy just nodded, lost in love gazing at her firstborn. The pair and instantly been enamored of Minerva, and both were hopelessly wrapped around her little hooves. As Minerva went back into a deep sleep, Amy wrapped her up in her arms and John embraced the two of them as one.

“Maybe she’ll get something to help with that at our shower today,” Amy finally said softly as she drifted back to sleep.

The shower.

Crap.

John had completely forgotten about his colleagues in R & D throwing him a baby shower today. His paternity leave had begun the day after Minerva was born, and he hadn’t been out of his quarters much during that time, so of course “the gang” as Amy called them had insisted on throwing a shin-dig in 10 forward.

One that was slated to begin in ……exactly……2 hours’ time, John saw as he glanced at the nearby clock. Nothing for it. Today was the day to become a functional human again.

After allowing himself an extra 30 minutes nap, John got up and showered, preparing breakfast for everyone before waking Amy. He held Minnie and fed her as Amy went through her morning ablutions, and then the pair both bathed Minnie, enjoying the feel of shampooing her furry tummy as she laughed at the sensation.

Once Minnie was clean and pleasant smelling she was swathed in a frilly pink dress covered in bows and ribbons. The infant took great pleasure in chewing on the ribbon closest to her mouth and was fascinated at the sensation of grasping onto the bows. Amy wore a light blue sundress, happy to be in something breathable that still fit her belly, and John wore his usual uniform. Not sure what to expect, the trio set out for 10-Forward.

As the happy family made their way through the ship, the primary lounge of the U.S.S. Hera was already active. The Chief of the R&D department, party planner extraordinaire, and newly expectant mother herself was instructing a pair of Ensigns for the flight department who volunteered to help with the decorations and the mirthfull Miradonian was directing.

"Yeah, right over there. There, that's perfect," Mona may have been a perfectionist in many aspects, but in this she was moreso, directing people in the decor for the event, pastel pinks and blues being the general theme with purples and greens worked in for accents. Nothing was permanent, of course - they only had the lounge for three hours at best before their reservations were up and the first lunch-goers would come walking in. Still, the drapes and signage and the cupcakes all matched. She even made sure the finger food, being vegetarian, was color coordinated somehow using pink Bolian bread and Romulan fruit slices she had acquired on the fortress.

As for her gift, it had been packed up in a pink box with a feathered bow. Inside was a self rebuilding mobile of child-safe starship toys that would hover down when reached for so little Min could play, or chew, on them, then hover back into their orbits when she released them. It was an unexpected application of a tool system she had been working on for some time now and she was happy to see it used in such an unexpected way.

Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, Ensign Briaar Gavarus, the department's resident Tellarite engineer and rotund grease monkey was sitting on the floor, her legs crossed with her disproportionately mall hooved dangling. She had her tools out and was making final adjustments on something otherwise hidden under a bright pick drop cloth with a pale blue bow on the top.

The mystery item was large and box-shaped, as she seemed to be screwing something into place. "Okay, that should do it. When are they supposed to get here, I'm starving?" Gavarus asked to her diminutive, red-headed partner-in-crime and in life, the tiny terror of Ten-Forward, Ensign Fiona O'Dell.

“When they get here. New parents are late fuir everything because the baby makes ye late everywhere, so ye joost plan for it and get used to it. So if there supposed to be here at 13:00, ye joost expect ‘em at aboot 13:20 or so,” O’Dell opined, as having come from a large family she was quite accustomed to such things, and she took it all in stride. Currently, she was delivering platters of finger foods carefully chosen for their lack of scent, as Carrot had indicated that in her last trimester his bountiful bride was particularly sensitive to strong scents, which tended to make her sick. So Chief Gonadie had insured that all of the finger foods were scent-free and of a consistency unlikely to trigger her nausea reflex. Which mostly meant cookies and crackers with schmear.

Surreptitiously tossing a few of the crackers at her porcine partner, who expertly caught them in her mouth, O'Dell wisecracked about the gift she was working on. “Ye aboot done wi’yuir tinkerin there, or will ye need extra time once the bairn’s born ta get it joost right?”

"Oh, ha ha, Fee." Gavarus deadpanned as she chewed on the crackers. "This is for the current kidlette."

The Gavarus stuck out one of her own hooves and made a kicking motion, "Carrot says she's kicking right through the best cribs he could replicate. Well, if she can kick through this baby, then the Security Team might want to just recruit her ta' guard Hera's door now."

Pulling the tarp back over, Gavarus slid her tools under the nearby table out of view and out of the way and grunted back to her feet. It was clear that she had put on a decent amount of weight since her injuries a couple of weeks back and hadn't hit the gym since. "Oooof... Otherwise, I think we're ready to go."

"Ye're buildin the wee heifer a stall crib, then. Or somethin wi' flex to it that will give an' bounce back? Or somethin fancy dancy wi' forcefields?" O'Dell dropped off the appetizers and hustled back across the room to the replicator to pick up the next load, chattering as she moved.

Following close behind, Gavarus replied, "Sort of, yeah. No force fields, but the structure is built using the same poly-duranium composite the Chief developed for the hands of the Banshee to give them flexibility and give. That crib could survive reentry, but she can also bang her little head on it and it will flex and give so she couldn't get hurt. Plus, I coated the entire surface in a pink structural foam to make it even softer and more durable. That kid gets out of there, she's a frickin' Q."

"Aye, that's usin yuir head! Shaped so they'll give wi'the impact then flex back into shape wi' those honeycomb structures she used, aye? Smart, smart. Ought to make her a right nice playpen if ye can keep it expandable to size as she grows, aye?" O'Dell, as ever, bounced along with Gavarus' good ideas and tried to see where they might lead- part of what made them a good team.

"And that's why I love both of you so much. You're both adaptable, dependable, and can see what's in front of you and come up with a simple solution without having an ego about it." Mona walked up to the dynamic duo with a large tray of 'pigs in a poke' made with various veggies and spreads rather than meat.

"Which reminds me, the Banshee has been cleared for fleet testing so you can talk about it with those off ship. No specifics, but the existence of our baby is declassified at least. The only thing I didn't share with them is my cloak. That's just a 'mission-specific payload' receptacle." With a wink, the brightly plumed Miradonian set the tray down in the center of the food table.

Eyeing the tray of food like a predator on the hunt, the nearly perpetual stomachs of the porcine engineer grumbled loudly, but she tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the better news. "Oh, that's fantastic, Chief!"

Then, muttering to herself, "Hear that, Errine. SOMEONE has a bigger project than YOU do, Miss Engineering Professor."

"Well, we'll try ta keep our bragging ta joost the Hera fuir noow ma'am, and o'course Gavarus' snooty highfalutin relatives. But only because their snouts are so stuck in the air they need a little whiff of what's cookin so they know their black sheep is actually kickin arse oot in the fleet." Fondly O'Dell patted the beefy forearm of the tall Tellarite, already composing a dozen ways to subtly mention in letters home to the engineer's overachieving family that she was doing groundbreaking work on a revolutionary new starship.

The doors to 10-Forward whooshed open softly as John, Amy, and Minerva made their entrance. Amy was holding onto her lower back as if her life depended on it while John was pushing a small 2-seater pram with Minerva happily kicking at the air inside it. She had freed one of her hooves from their confines inside a sock and was sucking on it for all she was worth.

Smiling widely, John parked the pram and rushed to pull up a chair for Amy, beaming the whole team at the assembled persons.

“Hi everyone!” he beamed through sleep-weary eyes, “Sorry we are a bit late….someone,” he intoned theatrically while looking at Minerva, “Decided she would rather spit up than eat her breakfast.”

Snorting in response, Minerva did not appear to be repentant in the slightest. However with a slight scrunch to her nose, Amy took a moment to breathe before saying, “John, dear, can we not discuss spit up please?”

Blushing as red as his hair, John rubbed at his neck nervously while saying, “Um, right dear, sorry. Um, hi everyone! This place looks great! Hope it wasn’t any trouble……”

"Nae a lick of troobul a'tall, Carrot me old bean!" O'Dell piped up with her characteristic enthusiasm. "Happy to have us a shower for one of our own who's got himself a whole family all of a sudden. And joost lookit you, mah wee hoofy heifer!" O'dell reached down, expertly undoing the clips keeping the horned infant bound in the stroller as she hefted the adorable infant who was nearly a third the size of O'Dell herself up and out to perch her on her hip.

"Hoof! Yuir a hefty bairn, ain't ye? G'win ta grow up big and strong, are ye not? Oh aye, ye are! Ye'll be right mighty and dainty all at once, joos like Briaar, aye? Yes you will. Oh yes ye will!" Tickling at the slightly furry tummy of the Minotaur calf, it was surprising to see that the practically child-sized O'Dell was actually an easygoing hit with children, and obviously comfortable with them in the way that only children from large families tended to be in practice. "Briaar, look at her wee tiny hooves! They're adorable!"

At which point, the two-meter tall, nearly 200-kilogram Tellarite, generally grouchy and grumpy, essentially squealed like the pigs her race resembled as she held her three-fingered hands up next to her face and shook them with a massive smile.

"EEEE! Oh my GODS! She is SOOOOOOO CUTE!!!" Gavarus squeaked out, displaying behavior that even O'Dell hadn't quite seen as she kneeled down to her red-headed partner's level with a grunt and gently grabbed Minerva's dainty hooves with the tips of her pudgy fingers and wiggled them. "They're soooo cute, Fee! I'm gonna die, she's so cute!"

Minerva, utterly pleased to be the center of attention, graced Gravarus with a gentle headbutt, softly brushing horns against her cheek, while sticking her pudgy hands out to grasp solidly onto O’Dell’s fingers.

“She’s a bit of a prodigy at that,” Carrott said proudly. “Already supports her own head AND she can grasp objects. That’s unheard of for a one-week old!”

"Waaaaahl, she a Hera baby, aren't ye, wee Minerva! That means yuir born under a lucky star and special already, aye? Aye? And yuir a we bebeh Carrot too, so that means you'll be well loved and cherished, and you'll know all the best things in life, yes you will!" While she made baby talk, O'Dell was bouncing the wee minotaur unconcernedly on her bony hip, as the babe, squealing with delight, seemed to enjoy the attention from the animated mop of crimson curls and her porcine partner, even as Minerva moved to start eating O'Dell's hair.

And as the adorable infant started trying to chew on O'Dell's red locks, Gavarus continued playing with her tiny hooves. "N' you tell daddy that hoofies are a sign of incredible brilliance! Yes, you tell daddy you're gonna be super smart, yes you are."

Instead of communicating, Minerva opted to sneeze instead, getting an impressive amount of snot all over her face and the front of her onesie.

Without missing a beat, Amy was reaching over to clean her face with one hand while still holding her drink in the other. She managed to completely wipe down Minerva without dirtying O'Dell or breaking conversational stride with Mona.

John, ever amazed by his bride, whistled appreciatively and said to O'Dell and Gavarus, "She's amazing too. You would swear she had been raising kids her whole life instead of just taking parenting classes on the holodeck. Um, neither of us really know what we're doing here....but she is just somehow better at not knowing what she's doing than I am. At least I make her look good, right?"

“Aye, that ye do, Carrott… ach, I know that look, she’s makin manure. Briaar, get the diaper bag and clear a space over there, let’s get her a change, aye?” Moving with surprising speed and efficiency, the duo of perpetual troublemakers whom no one prior to this moment would suspect of having a single maternal bone in either of their bodies moved swiftly and efficiently to unclothe, un-diaper, clean and powder then rediaper the infant minotaur in less than a minute. Both moving in tandem, they were like a pit crew with a baby, made all the more surprising by their teamwork. As both were old hands at changing cousins and nephews and nieces, this was literally child’s play for them, old skills that were ingrained that were simple second nature to the odd couple from two very different worlds.

Hefting the freshly cleaned and refreshed infant, O’Dell offered her back to her mother as the wide-eyed babe reached for her mama. “Here ye go mum, clean and fresh as the morn.”

"Well, someone just volunteered for babysitter duty. Have you ever dealt with a flying baby before?" Mona couldn't help but chuckle lightly. She grew up in an orphanage so having to change a diaper or two and chasing down a rogue flyer was something she was used to growing up, but it was surprising seeing it from those two.

“Eh, that’s why me mum used to keep me on a bungee aboot the ankle, because I’d crawl away while diaperin’. Same principle, just applied to aerodynamics,” O’Dell replied without missing a beat. Clearly the concept of being threatened with babysitting didn’t faze the daredevil pilot in the least, as she was perfectly content in the company of babies. After all, they were joyous and innocent and easily plied with liquor.

"Yeah, no flying pigs on Tellar prime, but I'm the middle child of seven-frickin'-teen kids." Gavarus commented, cleaning up the diaper bag and repacking it all up. "And none of there were half as cute as little Minnie here. We got this sh... poopie... down."

"So..." Gavarus clapped her chubby, three-fingered hands together. "Who's ready for baby gifts?"

"That sounds lovely, thank you, ladies," Amy said in a mellifluous tone, patting John's hand absent-mindedly to ground him in the moment.

"Oh, right!" the red-headed man exclaimed. "Wow, ya'll are just great at this, you know? Wow. Fatherhood is so....busy!"

Minerva for her part continued to coo softly. One could be forgiven for thinking she occasionally looked at her father with a tiny touch of exasperation. After all, most people looked at Carrott that way on occasion.

“Alreet… Briaar, gimme a hand, aye?” O’Dell hustled over to the closet, and with the help of the engineer, they wrestled their gift out of the storage closet and out onto the floor, where they turned and parked it for display.

It was a sturdy rocking chair made of synthetic wood fiber particles, slats wide and thick, clearly built to last and painted to look like natural pine wood grain. “Tis a tradition in me family- a rockin’ chair to lull the wee ones to sleep, built to survive as many generations as need it. I explained what it’s supposed to be, then briar designed it, gave it reinforcement so’s it’d survive damn near innything, and we made it look folksy even though it’s really made of modern materials. Have a sit, try it oot, aye?”

“Oh that’s the thing,” Amy sighed as she sat down in the rocking chair. She began to rock back and forth smiling broadly.

“Oh, it’s just perfect, thank you each. So very much,” she said in her soft-spoken manner.

Happy to see a smile on his wives face, Carrott rushed to bring her some punch and snacks from the nearby food table. As he licked a bit of errant shmear off his pinkie finger his face brightened.

“Wow! This is great stuff too! Ya’ll really went all out! I can’t thank you enough. We….well, we were a bit surprised to have Minerva with us, and we can’t wait to meet our other kiddo, and to know we have this kind of support. Well, I’m not ashamed to say it makes me a bit misty.”

Actions suiting his words, Carrott’s eyes were a bit watery as he proffered refreshments to his bride who began eating them daintily.

About three bites into her sandwich, Amy’s eyes opened wide and her face went completely pale.

“Hun, you ok?” Carrott asked, instantly worried.

“Yes John, just the baby practicing kicking to match Minvera’s is all,” she said, leaning back into a placid position once more. "I am so thankful to each of you, truly. A home isn't a home without a gift from friends. Now our home can be complete. And I insist you each stop by and take a turn rocking with us."

Smiling, Gavarus remained much perkier in the presence of little Minerva as she cleared her throat. "Oh, the chair is just the beginning. We got more goodies. And this one is custom made for little Minnie's needs."

Pulling the tarp off of the pink, industrial-strength, custom-engineered crib, the pleased Porcine grinned broadly. "I know a thing or two about the damage hooves can do to cribs, and THIS puppy is as hoof-proof as possible."

For a brief moment Carrott stood there, mouth agape. He then ran to the crib as fast as he could, shaking the slats gently at first, then more roughly to confirm the slat would not give way. With a smile splitting his face from ear to ear he ran to pick up Minerva and gently placed her in her crib.

Minnie decided to voice her displeasure at being placed down by crying and kicking to beat any number of bands. John and Amy both braced for the inevitable crash that usually followed those kicks, but it never happened. The magical material just absorbed the blow and stood solid, unaffected by super-powered temper tantrums.

From where she sat rocking still, Amy laughed to herself for a brief moment before saying, “Well, that shortened his daily to-do list by 1 item at least. Goodness, Gavarus, someday you and I should have a conference on all the other hoof-related things I need to learn. I….I don’t even know how to trim them if needed, or what to do if she gets splinters, or how to groom her horns, or how to keep her fur neat…..I mean, is it going to grow long? Stay short? We don’t know, and it’s not like there are other Minotaur parents I can talk to….”

Amy had started off calm and happy, but her pregnancy hormones decided to take that moment to rage, sending the new mother into a bit of a crying jag. Her voice got more and more agitated and she listed off all the things she didn’t know how to do and all the reasons she would be a terrible parent. For anyone not familiar with the particular quirks of pregnancy it would seem to be a lightning-fast change, but John had seen it coming.

The young Ensign had made it to Amy’s seated position with Minerva in his arms before she got into her second refrain of “I’m going to be a terrible mother,” and placed the now-grumpy babe in her arms. Reaching into the bag on his back, Carrott took out a bottle and popped it in Minnie’s mouth.

“You aren’t a terrible mother, Amy. Look sweetie, she loves when you feed her. See how happy she is in your arms?” John cooed reassuringly, looking to his colleagues as it to convey to them ‘Danger! Danger! Say nice things to the crazy lady before she kills us all!’

Picking up the cue, Gavarus chuckled nervously. "Well, I got ya' covered on hoofie maintenance. It ain't that complicated. And horns, I think, are mostly the same stuff. But if I can keep these from getting too long, we can take care of her cute little horns no frickin' problem."

As the Porcine Ensign spoke, she stuck out her jaw, openly letting Amy see her somewhat groomed down lower tusks. Pieces of anatomy she was generally very uncomfortable letting anyone see, but she wanted to do what she could to help calm the both brand new and seriously expecting mom.

"And the chief knows all about feathers and sh… poopie…" Gavarus said, trying to edit her usual foul mouth. "So fur should be a snap."

“Everybody knows it takes a tribe ta raise a wee one, aye?” O’Dell chimed in, tickling the furry tummy of the babe. “So dinna ye think ye hafta know it all yuirself and be the end-all-be-all of Minotaur parenting. Nobody knows how to care for their own species babies right from the start, and somehow we all manage. Ye’ll do joost fine, and ye’ll have plenty of help. Isn’t that right, mah wee moo moo, aye? Aye? Why yes it is! Yes it is!”

"Yeah, we've got you covered, not that you'll need much help. You're an awesome mom already, judging by little Minnie," Mona added as she popped open the box with her gift for the parents, clipping a controller to the side of the new crib and giving it a quick calibration so that the wee little chibi starships floated out of the box themselves and started hovering above it in their little holding patterns. "I was trying to come up with a new tool storage system for my workbench and I figured it would work better as a mobile for kids. When she reaches for one of the nearly indestructible teething toys, it'll float down to her, then float back into orbit when she's done."

Sniffling softly, Amy wiped the errant tears from her face, “Th-th-thank you. I’m sorry to be such a mess. Everything just happened so fast, and I still feel like an idiot little girl pretending to be a Mom. And these blasted mood changes do not help.”

For Amy, language that strong was like anyone else using every curse word they knew.

“And thank you, Mona. Goodness knows we are doing our best. This is a brilliant idea! Honestly, you should share this idea, you will be famous. I can’t wait to see them in action. How do I set up their set point? Better show me, goodness knows John won’t figure it out.”

"There are just three main settings on the controller, so it should be super simple." Mona pulled the controller off the crib, leaving the little starships to continue their orbit over the crib so she could show Amy. "The first set is the size of the crib and distance above it. The second set is the number of ships, orbit pattern, speed, and diameter. The last set is for the level of interaction. How long they stay in the crib after release, how quickly one will dip down when reached for, etc..."

"If there are any tweaks or anything, just let me know for the second one," Mona added with a wink.

With a tinkling laugh, Amy gladly accepted the toys and began tinkering with the controls.

Having decided lunch was only a limited-time engagement, Minverva spat out the nipple on her bottle and started making grabby hands at John, who reached down and picked her up and began walking her back and forth, lightly rubbing her back to burp her.

“John, dear, remember the burp cl-“

The warning was too late. Minerva was already spewing up a noxious fluid that could only loosly be seen to resemble the formula it had once been. Feeling the unfortunate warmth on his shoulder, John suppressed a shudder and began floundering with one hand in his bag, his other hand still holding Minerva firmly.

After a brief struggle he pulled out a burp cloth and set about trying to clean up his shoulder. Face as red as his hair Carrott said, “Well honey, at least you remember to not get thrown up on. That’s what Dad’s are for though, right? Getting thrown up on and getting in the way.”

Putting on a comically exaggerated face of dismissiveness, Gavarus scoffed. "Yeah, and this Dad is also on the ships Medical team. So little Minnie's got a live-in Doctor for all her upset tummies and shit." Then catching the curse, gritted her teeth slightly.

"Shit! Uh... Sorry." Then she leaned in and started playing with Minerva's tiny hooves again. "You didn't hear that, did you, Minnie? No, you didn't hear Auntie Briaar cursing like a space pirate, no you didn't. OOOCHIE GOOCHIE! I got your hoofies! Yes, I do."

In the nature of babies, Minerva quickly got over being sick and went back to being happy, giggling the grasping at Briar’s nose and happily putting anything she could get her hands on in her mouth.

Seeing all was taken care of the now-disheveled Carrott sat down in a nearby chair. “Whew. If one of them is this exhausting, I don’t know how we are going to do two……”

With a pinched facial expression, Amy rolled her eyes and elected to not respond, instead slightly bending over, holding her stomach and visibly having a hard time catching her breath.

Seeing all was taken care of the now-disheveled Carrott sat down in a nearby chair. “Whew. If one of them is this exhausting, I don’t know how we are going to do two……”

With a pinched facial expression, Amy rolled her eyes and elected to not respond, instead slightly bending over, holding her stomach and visibly having a hard time catching her breath.

“Whist! S’a contraction? S’a wee one tryin’ ta make an entrance? Indigestion? Lean back, aye? Breathe, Carrott…” In the moment, O’Dell couldn’t recall Amy’s first name, but she’d seen enough pregnant women go into labor to recognize that look on her face. Shooting a rather pointed expression at the husband, the Mariposian midget of mayhem took the mother to be’s hand in both of her own and patted it reassuringly, her face a placid mask of a smile. “Aaaaata girl, joost lie back a bit and have a good deep breathe now, aye?”

Without missing a cue, Gavarus reached into the baby bag, grabbed a towel, snapped it over her shoulder, then held her hands out mimicking Minerva's grabby hands. "Okay, Daddy Carrot. Gimme."

In a mild panic, John handed little Minerva to 'Auntie Briaar' as he rushed over to attend to his wife, who was clearly going into labor right there in Ten-Forward.

After a few frantic moments, Mona took charge and led the Carrots away to Sickbay to deliver their newest addition, leaving baby Minnie in the unexpectedly capable hands of Fiona O'Dell and Briaar Gavarus.

Holding up the gurgling baby Minotaur, Gavarus blew raspberries with her Porcine snout on Minerva's fuzzy belly, eliciting a string of infectious giggles. "Who's the cutest Frickin' baby ever? Minnie is! Yes, you frickin' are!"

Bouncing the happy, laughing fuzzball on her prodigious hip, Gavarus looked down at her pint-sized partner. "Shit. I just realized something, Fee... Everyone's gonna ask us to do this all the time now, aren't they?"

Finishing the sip of beer she was working on, O'Dell handed it up to Gavarus as she took the horned and hooved babe from her partner in crime and set the infant on her lap, bouncing the happy toddler who was a good third her own size on her lap. "Nahhhh. We drink way too much to be considered responsible parents or babysitters. This'll pass..."