Someone's Got a Girlfriend

Posted on Wed Sep 4th, 2019 @ 11:09am by Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus
Edited on on Sun Sep 22nd, 2019 @ 6:24pm

Mission: Family Detention
Location: Deck 9. Briaar Gavarus' Crew Quarters
Timeline: 2396

“Oh my GODS, Ma! Are you frickin’ kidding me!?” Ensign Briaar Gavarus whisper/shouted into the small computer screen on the table in front of her. On that screen, was the image of an older Tellarite woman. Her hair was a mess of wiry gray curls pulled back into a severe ponytail and she looked not unlike an older, much more wrinkled version of the Hera’s resident porcine engineer.

But the woman on the screen wore a pair of corrective lenses on the bridge of her snout and had a stern sneer on her thick face. “Why you insist on shouting at me like that is beyond me, Briaar. We’re on subspace, added volume won’t make me hear you any clearer 15 light-years away.”

Looking with an irritated and dumbfounded expression, Gavarus flumped back slightly in her seat, trying to hold the beer in her thick, three-fingered hand out of view of the screen. “Ma, this is… I’m keeping my voice down! I’m on a starship and it’s late here. But that’s not the frickin’ point! You’re getting a frickin’ DIVORCE!?”

A system away on Tellar Prime, it was mid-day and Councilwoman Penelope Gavarus was in her home office. As a City Councilwoman of the Keron Provence, she kept very busy and rarely made time for small talk and even at the ‘office’ office, she was usually working. She was the matriarch of a family of type-A overachievers which always put the notorious slacker, Briaar, on guard. “Yes, Briaar. You can’t tell me this comes as a complete surprise to you. Your father was hardly… attentive even when you were here to pay attention.”

Blushing, Briaar rolled her eyes. “Please tell me that wasn’t an innuendo, Ma! You’ve got, like, seventeen of us. He had to give you SOME attention!”

“Oh please, yours was a litter of 6. Mathematically, you can only prove he and I had coitus no more than three times and frankly, I don’t think it’s been much more than…” The wry councilwoman raised an eyebrow and scoffed before her daughter cut her off.

“OKAY! Enough!” As she yelled, Briaar winced slightly and looked off-screen before continuing more quietly. “But, c’mon, Ma. Divorce? I mean… I had no idea. You guys almost acted like you liked each other last solstice?”

“Hampton is a politician, Briaar. ‘Acting’ he can do. He acted like he wasn’t having an affair with his office clerk for the last two years, for example.” Penelope muttered, more talking at her daughter than with her.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose with her snout, Gavarus grumbled. “Oh, @#$% it. I can’t be expected not to drink hearing this shit.” And as she said so, brought the beer bottle up and took a swig. “This is so effed up, Ma. Seriously. I can’t believe this. What… what are you going to do?”

“What do you mean, what am I going to do. The house is in my name. The bank accounts are in my name. I’ve already filed the paperwork with the magistrate's office. It’s simply a matter of getting his signatures and getting him off the couch and out of my life.” Penelope Gavarus said matter-of-factly from across space on the secure comm frequency. “So, how have you been, Briaar? The proverbial wagon still won’t hold you?”

“Oh, good segue, Ma. Real subtle.” Briaar took another swig. “As you can see… still drinking. AND, if you’ve checked the file I sent you, our ships R&D department filed a recent invention for a Variable Mode Fighter that just got totally DE-classified that I have been a big part of the development team of!” For the first time in the conversation, Briaar had a proud smile on her face as she spoke.

“Oh yes. I glanced over that. At least you seem to be trying to apply yourself. And perhaps eventually the invention in question will be your own and not just something from a ‘team’ you’re on.” Penelope replied judgmentally, which was par for the course for the woman for whom nothing was ever quite good enough.

“Thanks a lot mom. I’m actually doing really great stuff out here, but, ya’know, CLASSIFIED! But thanks for the encouragement.” Briaar’s smile was gone now as she took yet another swig of beer. “I can streamline the call for you if you want. Yes, I’m still an Ensign. Yes, I’m still fat. Yes, I’m still drinking. Anything else, Ma?”

There was a long pause as suddenly there was a high pitched squeal as her mother winced slightly and a small, round porcine face with massive blonde curls and big, black eyes pushed its way onto the screen. “BREEBREE!!!!! Bree Bree, I miss you! HI!!!”

On the screen, shoved in front of her mother’s irritated face was Briaar’s 10-year-old little sister, Mreea, who might possibly be the one member of her family that didn’t judge her or find her wanting.”Hey there, Mreepers. How are you doin’, kiddo? How’s school?”

“OH MY GAWDS, it’s so cool! So, I replicated a model of your new ship, from the Starfleet Scientific Journal article! There's even a picture of you and the team in it! I brought it to school and everyone went NUTS!! It was so cool! Is it really almost four meters tall!?” The excited ten-year-old bounced on her annoyed mother’s lap.

“Seriously? That's... kinda awesome. I had no idea there was an article. Wow. But yeah... the prototype was almost twice as big, Mreepers. This one can walk through the ship's corridors! I designed a series of dampening fields on the feet that make it super quiet. Fee could sneak right up on you in it.” In her excitement, Briaar dropped the name of the Banshee’s test pilot, and her new, if unusual, girlfriend, Fiona O’Dell. O’Dell is mentioned in the official article that Mona Gonadie submitted to the Starfleet Scientific Journal once she was given permission, along with a picture of the three with the Banshee, but Briaar hadn’t talked about her casually yet.

And this was the first call since they started officially seeing each other as a couple.

Across the subspace gap, her Mother’s eyebrow perked up at the noticeable shift in her middle daughter’s body language. “Hush, Mreea. Go play. Mother’s talking.”

As she shooed the energetic ten-year-old off her lap, who only begrudgingly relented with an excited “BYE, Bree Bree!!! Love you!” receiving a happy "Love you too, Mreepers. Be good!" From Briaar, Penelope leaned in closer to the screen.

“Fee?” She said plainly with a sarcastic tone. “Don’t tell me you have another muscle headed bimbo in your sights, Briaar dear? As if your… sexual predilections weren’t bizarre enough. Really”

Turning a deep red, Briaar’s face twisted into a scowl. The region of Tellar Prime she came from was notoriously conservative and her status as a lesbian was but a single step in the slide from her Mother’s favor that still stung. “Not that it’s any of your business, Ma… and not like you care… but no. She’s not a muscle head. And she sure as @#$% isn’t a BIMBO! She’s like stupid smart and a test pilot and frickin’ fearless and awesome, if you actually want to know!”

At which point, a slight yawn snapped Briaar back to the reality that she had stopped watching the volume of her voice, and Fee had groggily walked out of the bedroom. She was standing in the doorway next to the heavy-duty crib that was still in her quarters for when they babysat the adorable Minerva Carrott, virtually swimming in one of Briaar’s T-Shirts with an image of strips of cartoon bacon and the words 'I'm Hot' printed below, and looking at the porcine engineer with a half-confused expression.

"Oi, what's all this then? Who's got you shoutin' ta beat the band at sooch an unholy hour, and day drinkin' ta boot?" asked the midget Mariposian as she swept the unruly mountainous mop of crimson curls out of her eyes with her forearm. Approaching the desk, she reached out to take the beer from Briaar's hand and take a small sip before spotting the disapproving face onscreen. "Ach, is that yuir grandmother or yuir parole officer?"

Trying to stifle a laugh and failing as a chuckle snorted out, Briaar gestured dramatically to the screen. "A: It's only oh four something hours, sorry. Aaaaannnnnd B: Uh, Fiona O'Dell, this is my Mom. Penelope Gavarus. Ma... This is Fiona. She's... she's my girlfriend." And as she did, the sourfaced Tellarite on the screen lowered her glasses and looked O'Dell up and down with half-lidded eyes before sighing out, "Really?"

"If ye hafta put that label on it, aye," O'Dell instantly switched channels, peering at the disapproving expression onscreen. "Mates, partners, besties, mutual support, a team, call it what ye like. I dinna care much meself. I'm wi' her, and she's wi' me, and if ye've a problem with it now's yuir chance to say something aboot it. I'll guess from yuir expression and the fact that Briaar's mentioned ye've nae had innything nice ta say to her in the past, oh, lifetime that this'll be where ye have all sorts of passive-aggressive nasty luittle barbs and jabs ta makes, so I'll warn ye noow- I dinna know ye, I dinna give a flyin' sheep's arse who ye are, and if ye've innything unkind to say to her, I'll be more than happy to revisit it tenfold upon ye. So keep a civil tongue in yuir head lest ye plan to be wearin it fuir a necktie, aye?" At that O'Dell grinned, a wide, toothy affair that made her look mildly daft or addled, depending on your definition.

"Uh... TA DAH!" Briaar redirected her gesture from the screen to O'Dell as her mother raised both eyebrows with an half-lidded expression of genuine surprise as she pondered her reply for a decent moment of genuine awkwardness. "And who are you, Fiona O'Dell? She says you're a... test pilot?"

"Aye, that I am, mum," O'Dell replied cheerfully, as the conversation seemed to be civil, she continued in a cheery and civil discourse. After all, this was her chance to brag to Briaar's family just what amazing things she'd done. "Seems bein' a wee lass wi' nimble fingers makes ye quite desirable in the cockpit of an experimental spacecraft, and so when this project come up, was happenstance Gavarus an' me happened to be on duty the same day. The chief saw we could make the prototype do things no one else could, we started immediately findin' the flaws and recommendin' improvements, a bunch of which Briaar designed, and we become fast friends because we could stand one another. We make a great team, her an' me. She's saved me life more times'n I kin count, and I'd be nowhere wi'oot me flight engineer. The chief is proud as punch of her, and the Commander says we're due medals fuir our 'gallant service', though I've nae seen that joost yet."

Blushing slightly, Gavarus smiled slightly as her mother lightly rolled her eyes. "I suppose that..." Penelope began the dryly retort before a familiar squeal was heard in the background and the transmission was interrupted by a split-screen that cut in revealing the bulging eyes and impossible smile of the ten-year-old Mreea Gavarus, now clutching in her tiny, three-fingered hands, the aforementioned 3-D model of the Banshee in walker mode.

Snapping slightly, Penelope leaned past the screen to tell to the next room, "Mreea!! What have I told you about splicing into my calls?! Disconnect your feed this instant, young lady!"

But the bouncing young Tellarite ignored the irritated cries of her mother and gushed. "OH MY GAWDS!!! You're FIONA O'DELL!?! You're the project test pilot from the Scientific Journal article?!? OH MY GAWDS, and your DATING MY SISTER?!? This is the most... OH MY GAWDS!!!"

Slightly embarrassed, Briaar repressed a snort watching her mother petulantly sulk on her side of the split-screen while her little sister gushed. "Fee, this is my little sister, Mreea."

A wide, warm smile split the face of the pale-skinned humanoid Mariposian moppet as she curtsied and shrugged. “Delighted to make yuir acquaintance, Miss Mreea! Ah’ll confess, I’ve noo idea aboot inny article, but I am indeed Fiona O’Dell. There canna be two of me, ‘cuz there’s barely eough ‘a me for one of me, aye? Yuir prolyl taller than me! As for datin’ yuir sister, well, she’s saved me wee bhind more times than I kin count, and she means the world to me, so… ate, Ah guess ‘datin’ is as good a word as any?” With that, Fiona turned to look at briar a bit bashfully and nudged her with her shoulder affectionately before turning back to the camera.

"Yeah, I just found out about it while you were sleeping, Fee. Apparently, the Chief's report that they declassified got printed as an article in the Starfleet Scientific Journal and Mreea's been going nuts over it. Telling all the kinds in school about us. We's FAMOUS!" Gavarus shrugged with a slightly pleased smile, nudging Fiona right back.

Rolling her eyes on the other side of the screen, Penelope sighed. "Really, Mreea. Don't you have homework to do, young lady?"

As the authoritarian matriarch lowered her brows at her youngest on the screen, the porcine pixie on the other side let out the most dramatic sigh possible for a ten-year-old. "Yessssss, mom! Okay." Before perking back up with a massive smile and a wave for the Hera's unlikely duo! "Bye again, Bree Bree! Love you! Hi again, Miss O'Dell!!! Bye!" And the screen returned to a single image of Gavarus' annoyed-looking mother.

"You have enough distractions from your studies without worrying about what your sister OR her girlfriend slash... mutual support team, was it?... are doing out there." Penelope shouted to the other room on the screen.

"I'd think s'important for an impressionable young lassie t'have role models, but then, what d'I know aboot parenting, eh? I'm only a daredevil test pilot slash astronaut slash Starfleet officer who's tellin her the black sheep a'the family might not be the classic screw-oop she's been made oot ta be alla her life," Fiona replied smartly, thoroughly unwilling to take even backhanded sass from the self-important woman onscreen whom she already didn't care for much. But then, she didn't have to take any such thing from the woman, and damned if she'd stand by and let anyone abuse Gavarus... or her excitable little sister, whom Fiona had already taken a shine to. "Remind me to send her the datafile for a transformable Thunderchicken action figure of her own, aye? Yuir wee bebeh sister's a panic."

From the background of the screen, Fiona and Briaar could hear an excited squeal as little Mreea was still clearly eavesdropping and began losing her mind at the prospect of O’Dell’s last comment coming true. And as the porcine engineer’s mother rolled her eyes so hard at the sound you could almost hear them as well, Briaar let out a snort of a laugh as her usually controlling mother clearly had zero control of the situation.

To say nothing of the red-headed spitfire that was taking none of her mother’s usual attitude.

Turning back to her screen, Penelope Gavarus pushed her glasses back up her snout and scoffed. “I can see that this is going to be… interesting. Well, if you are happy who am I to comment, Briaar. And you do seem… happy.” It was as close to a complimentary statement as the councilwoman was willing to make at the moment.

But Fiona O’Dell was a wild card she was completely unprepared for knowing how to deal with, if she could indeed be dealt with at all. “Yeah, Ma. I guess I am. Yeah.” Briaar replied, bopping the side of her head up against Fiona’s playfully, who in turn leaned against the much larger space swine happily.

“Very well, Briaar. I shall call you again once everything is finalized. And I’m sure Mreea will be sending you messages as well. Good evening, Briaar. Good evening, Miss O’Dell.”

"Good evening, Mrs. Gavarus. Twas loverly makin' yuir acquaintance, and I look forward to meeting ye and Mr. Gavarus in person next time we're oot by Tellar Prime, aye? I'll bring ye a delightful bottle of Bringloidian brandy that'll make yuir nose hairs curlier," Fiona tossed back wich a cheery wave3 as she reached out and shut down the transmission, determined to get the last word. After all, she suspected few people ever did with the dour diplomat, and she wanted to establish quite firmly that absolutely zero amounts of her guff would be taken on such calls moving forward- at least if Fiona was about.

As the transmission ended, the two couch-jockeys could just make out hearing Gavarus' mother call to the other room as the screen cut out, “Mreea, show me that article you’re going on about.” And the Tellarite engineer couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“Holy shit. So, yeah. That’s my Mom. Sorry I got loud and woke you up.” Briaar commented with an awkward smile as she looked at O’Dell.

"Whist! Nonna that, I woke up when ye dinna come back ta bed, and I heard every word. Did ye honestly think I was joost g'win ta sit in the other room and let her talk to ye like that?" Laying her hand gently on the shoulder of the seated engineer, the wee wonder shook her head. "Not in a hog's pizzle. Nobody talks down to ye like that when I'm aboot and gits away unscathed, and on that ye kin rely. I played dumb and sleepy, aye, but only because I dinna want her to know I'd been eavesdroppin."

Flumping back on the couch they were sitting on, Gavarus took a swig of her beer and yawned. “Ya’ need to add ‘covert spy’ to that resume you’ve got there, then. But… thanks, Fee. Seriously. That… that means a lot.” It was uncharacteristically unguarded, but that level of comfort had been getting easier and easier around Fiona for the porcine engineer.

Jumping onto the couch to land beside her partner in crime, the nimble O'Dell took the beer from the large three-fingered hand and took a small sip before returning it to Gavarus. "Aw, tis naught ye'd do for me, Briaar. O'course, I dunno how me family's g'win ta take the news either, but we'll burn that bridge when we cross it, aye? Cuz I somehow doubt yuir g'win ta be givin them any grandkids inny time soon. Or, y'know, ever. Which is fine by me, because I dinna think either of us wants to be a baby factory. I'm nae built for it a'tall and ye've nivvir expressed an inclination."

"Me, @#$% no! I'm fine just babysitting Minnie as often as possible. Tellarites have, like, SIX of the little shits at a time. And my body is a wreck as it is." Gavarus smirked as she leaned over against O'Dell sleepily. "Ha! We should borrow her from Carrott when we meet your family, or the next time we talk to mine and tell everyone she's ours and watch their heads explode trying to figure it out."

"HAH! Oh sure, and let 'em try to work out the biology on that one, aye...?"

Letting out a snort of a chuckle, Gavarus yawned much bigger this time. "Damn, I wish Tellar Prime wasn't so out of synch with our clocks. I can only ever take these calls too damn early." As she complained, it was clear she was zoning out and leaning a little heavier against her pint-sized partner on the couch.

Grabbing a blanket, O'Dell expertly flipped it upon, then draped it over much of the larger life form's frame, leaving her dainty hooves out, as she preferred them exposed when sleeping to keep her cool. Snuggling up against her Fiona patted Briaar's ample tummy, already beginning to rise and fall with a steady rhythm. "S'alreet, Briaar. We're nae on duty for another four hours, so we kin sleep fuir at least three. Go back to sleep, aye? I'm here. I've got ye, aye?"

While it was usually Gavarus who comforted O'Dell when she was anxious, theirs was a two-way partnership, and the tiny test pilot rather liked having the chance to take care of her big buddy. Pulling the engineer's burly arm about her, O'Dell curled up against the warm and slightly musky form of her best friend in a manner not unlike that of a ginger feline, and settled in doze back off herself.

"Yuir mum's a panic. By mornin' ye'll have messages from alla yuir brothers and sisters, ye know."

Almost completely asleep, Gavarus smiled and moaned out a quiet, "Oh gods, you're right. @#$%... I think I preferred it... when they didn't... give a... shit..." And as she spoke, the last vestiges of her consciousness gave up and she started to snore, tucked up next to Fiona.

"S'alreet. Ye'll take no shite from them neither," Fiona assured as they drifted off together. Because she'd see to that.