It's Always Something With Rita

Posted on Thu Sep 12th, 2019 @ 2:24pm by Captain Enalia Telvan & Az'Prel & Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Sonak
Edited on on Sun Sep 22nd, 2019 @ 6:26pm

Mission: Family Detention
Location: USS Hera, Deck 6. Transporter Room 2
Timeline: 2396

As the Hera had broken speed records racing from the Kabul System to reach Vulcan, she now approached Vulcan barely slowing. Captain Telvan had an edge in speed and she was wasting as little of it as possible to use to give herself and her crew time to plot, to scheme, and to come up with some sort of brilliant plan that would enable them to outsmart and outwit the Romulans who had captured their own Romulan officer, one Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox. Her mother, the independent civilian asset known as codename ‘Mrs. Dox’ has also been captured, and in the three days it had taken for the Hera to cover the distance between systems, the spotted captain had barely slept a wink.

Consumed by guilt and wracked by responsibility, she was consumed by her need to make this right again. In order to do that, she needed her first officer. Well, needed was a strong word. But the woman was an unconventional thinker and a planner, and she tended to construct strategies that were unexpected, and while they seldom worked as planned, they definitely tended to surprise their opponents and achieve results in a spectacular fashion.

Thus as the USS Hera and the VDF Shavok rendezvoused at the outer edge of the Vulcan system, the communications were quickly established. The Hera wasn’t planning on slowing down much at all, and she expected the shuttle handoff to be tricky, but Rita was a fair pilot herself, and Enalia assumed she’d be up for the challenge. But the transporter room was currently being alerted to receive the landing party. Which was nothing particularly unusual for the Shavok, but it started a yellow alert onboard the Hera, which wasn’t particularly how Captain Enalia Telvan wanted this particular exchange to go.

"Let me guess... The Vulcans insisted on the transporter?" Rubbing the bridge of her nose, the spotted Captain decided that giving up coffee had been a bad idea and wished she had a nice tall cup of... But that thought was interrupted.

“Transporter Room two, ma’am, they’re beaming over the landing party now, including Commander Paris. Protocol indicates that that moves us to yellow alert immediately…” the transporter technician explained as the sounds of the transporter activating sounded through the comms. “They’re coming in now… wait, hold on, it isn’t supposed to do that…”

Transporter malfunctions involving Warp 9.2, Vulcan starships and Rita Paris were not something Enalia wanted to hear the words ‘they’re not supposed to do that’ in any sort of connection together.

"Telvan to Dedjoy, get to the pod transporter and get a lock, just in case. Transporter room two, you'll make it work. I have faith in you." Enalia then punched up the visual feed from the transporter room and sent it to her chair's monitors to keep an eye on what was going on, all while trying to remember who was on duty down there at the moment. Was it Radcliffe? It didn't sound like O'Malley or Florin... Maybe it was Thaniels...

Working the controls in Transporter Room 2, Technician Second Grade Radcliffe had heard all of the horror stories, and he'd seen the logs. If you were transporter rated on the Hera, then the entire logs were declassified to you, and you could watch all of the First Officer's beam ins and outs. Including the one in this very room in which the transporter dragged her screaming from across the room into the annular confinement beam, at which point it ate her in slow motion over 10.27 seconds, which was vaguely horrific to watch.

Having seen that, the slo-mo beam-ins that happened when she was passing in the hallways outside, the weird shape distortions and such that formed in the energy wave patterns because she was nearby that resolved themselves on beam in- he'd seen it all. It was fascinating. If you spent any time at all studying the science, you understood how impossible so much of that phenomenon was, yet somehow those processes were being interfered with on a quantum level that was still being studied.

Heady stuff.

Which was all good and well until one day you're in the middle of a nice dull shift. The ship is apparently going really fast, because that's what people are saying, but not like you can tell because inertial dampeners, right? And you're checking your messages and wondering about taking another test on the next section of your transporter tech quals when the message comes in that a beam in is occurring.

No incoming hail, no call from the bridge, just the 'handshake' that three signals are beaming aboard and that you should be receiving them. Lieutenant Sonak, Az'Prel and... Commander Paris.

Which is when the annular beam flexes and widens by two hundred percent, as the captain's voice rings out in memory, telling you to 'make it work. You hear your instructor at the Academy's voice in your head. "Boost the power gain to strengthen the waveform pattern of the confinement beam to regulate it's size and reshape it to bring it back on target."

"Okay, doable, just... crank this up by... five thousand megaherz, right... wait, what's it..." As Sonak and Az'Prel finally materialized on the transporter pad, a full seven point two three seconds after they'd begun, the pattern onscreen is taking on a ribbonlike quality, and moving in what could best be described as ‘a most peculiar way’.

"This wasn't covered in the manual," Transporter Technician Second Grade Radcliffe muttered, wide-eyed.


Meanwhile, on the bridge, Enalia watched it all as her heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears. Almost as if someone else was controlling her, she punched in the comm codes for the Vulcan science ship that was supposed to have been making the handoff and opened a comm frequency. "Thank you for ignoring the orders to stick with shuttles. My first officer's quantum allergy to transport has..." She paused for a moment as time seemed to catch up with her, a message from the pod blinking on her other screen. "You will be hearing from Starfleet Command."

Barely having finished the last word, Enalia closed the channel and opened the message from Dedjoy. It was long and rambling and full of science she didn't understand, but it seemed that Rita was 'safe' and 'recoverable' at the very least. It would just take some science shenanigans to pull it off.

As soon as he rematerialized, Sonak understood something was wrong with Rita's transport; again.

As he heard the transporter chief's muttering, he joined with him in great strides and signaled him to move over to the assistant monitor as he took control of the console.

''It is in the Hera's manual, Chief; I wrote the addendum myself. Reset the Heisenberg compensator on my mark... mark! ''

As the Chief complied, Sonak's fingers rapidly input a quantum signature signal into the annular confinement beam emitter and then slid the subatomic reintegrator at a precise speed with his other hand.

"I'm not... I'm not the chief..." Radcliffe protested weakly, complying as the orders came in from the chief science officer. Because as bad as this day was, it was getting worse in leaps and bounds now as he realized that he wasn’t as familiar with these protocols as he should be, and this was NOT going to bode well for his career.

For barely a second, it seemed like the entire transporter room went dark. Then it blinked back to life, the pad hummed, the light display twinkled back into existence over it, and the shape of one Rita Paris began to slowly materialize, the shimmering energies beginning to coalesce into the appropriate and rather distinctive shape of the Hera's fulsome first officer. It was taking far more time than it usually did, however- again, this was not the instant three-second transport of the modern day, but a rather long and drawn out affair.

As Sonak moved to her, he addressed the transporter technician in a stern voice.

''I informed engineering to integrate specific calibrations for Commander Paris on this ship. I even sent those protocols to Starfleet Command to avoid such incidents on all ships and installations within the Federation. The Shavok had them. I want you to find out who did not follow instructions on this ship and report your findings to Commander Paris herself.''

''Err... aye, aye, Sir.'' As far as he knew, all of those settings were laid in as a permanent protocol, and the settings weren't optional. But he'd definitely check and file his report, if only to make sure that he wasn't standing at Captain's Mast defending himself over it.

The psychic link to Sonak shared with the human woman allowed him to feel all that she felt, even before he touched her. He knew that physically she was unhurt. But he knew also that bad memories would be haunting her again right now, more painful even than any bodily harm. He sent her his own thoughts to soothe her.

I am here. You are here. We are here.

As the extradimensional explorer finished rematerializing on the pad, her energies returning from their sojurn back to matter, gone was the familiar anachronistic minidress uniform she still insisted on wearing. Instead, her outfit was one of silks and light links and chains, light armour crafted from the shells of alien molluscs and the familiar bronze bracers she wore, a gift from the goddess whose life she had spared, whose course in the cosmos she had changed with her belief. In her left hand she held a sword, thin of blade, crafted of a mottled jade metal of some sort, jagged and crude workmanship, stained with an unknown ichor. In her right, the trusty type II phaser she'd carried since the Academy in some form or another.

Whirling about, her eyes taking in the scene, her weapons lowered as a smile crept over her face- one of relief and happiness. Her tanned face fairly glowed as her wrists flicked and the weapons disappeared, and she strode off the transporter pad, oblivious to her minuscule clothing and the surroundings. Instead, she only had eyes for Sonak.

"You found me... I knew no matter how long it took, you'd find me... and you did. I'm back... this is the Hera, right?" Feeling him in her mind, of course, she knew the answers- his own situational awareness filled her, and she knew the date, time and place clearly. Just as he knew she had impossibly spent the past eighteen point four seconds of her difficult beam-in as seventy-four days and nights on the planet Kathoom, fighting as a freedom fighter on that world against the god-emperor of Kathoom, Sulan Got.

Sweeping into his arms, Rita Paris sighed, "I'm home..."

Sonak's eyebrow shot up as he noticed her attire and listened to her, smelling sweat-clung alien sands on her sun-heated skin and the whiff of charcoal-cooked meat on her breath.

''This is most illogical. We know your teleportation anomalies were the result of our original pseudo-universe tearing at the fabric of the multiverse. Since we have erased this anomaly ourselves, there should be no instability, even with a transporter not adjusted to compensate for such disturbances. The Shavok used its own system and I know it was adjusted; I checked it myself. And there is no physical phenomena present in this region of space that could account for any disturbance. There is simply no rationale for this event to have occurred at all.''

“Yet here I stand, in defiance of the laws of physics and reality once again,” Rita shrugged. “It’s got to be something we haven’t figured out yet, I guess. It’s definitely not as bad as it was, at least… the transport didn’t injure me physically, it just got me a little lost in the process.”

''I will highly recommend that you no longer risk any transporter travel until this... unexplained anomaly can be fully understood and resolved. I am afraid, Commander, that this may jeopardize your duties; possibly even put your fitness for executive duty into question by Starfleet Command. Confined to shuttlecraft travel, your efficiency as a mission command officer will be inevitably impaired, especially in emergency situations.''

It was as softly as he could deliver such hard truth. Away team missions, especially on this ship, were more often than not dire, dangerous ones requiring split-second decisions and actions. If she could not perform her duties until a lumbering shuttle could bring her down or back, this meant a clear loss of efficiency, possibly amounting to loss of lives. That would simply not be acceptable even in routine circumstances, let alone the exceptional nature of their mission.

Sonak did not think Rita would be content with a reassignment to some safe starbase duty, or even confined to onboard duties just to stay in Starfleet. Yes, she had been a helmswoman for a good part of her career, and a top one; and she could pursue a most successful career being one again. And as she was next in line for captaincy, this would eventually bring her back to the center of things, but this time without the duty of leaving the ship every time to do so.

Would she accept to return to the helm, and never more be directly involved with the action, as she was now? Even her mind-linked husband could not truly tell. He could perceive her thoughts on this quite clearly; but he was powerless to understand her feelings about it.

His grey eyes sought hers.

''As of now, I will dedicate all my free time in solving this... problem; permanently.''

“You may have missed it, but this isn’t new. It’s been a staple of my career, both old and new. On the Hera, we have taken certain precautions, Sonak. The Paris Protocols are in place primarily to create workarounds for such emergency situations, since there’s just something about me and transporters that never have seemed to mix well,” Rita explained, sliding back into her usual role with a casual ease, as if she’d not been gone any time at all. “I’ve managed this far, and I’ll continue to manage. I somehow doubt Starfleet is going to sideline me just because transporters still refuse to behave properly around me. I mean, it’s certainly better, and I’ve beamed a number of times now without incident. So we’ve certainly made strides- I just prefer to keep it to emergencies, rather than expediency.”

“As for solving the problem permanently, if anyone can, it would be you, my brilliant husband, whom I never doubted would find me,” she replied with a dazzling smile, her fingertips coming to rest below his chin as she gazed happily into his eyes. Despite the separation, despite the ordeal she had been through, the Pits of Orichalcum, the Mines of Rularoo, the Slave Market of Unam-Ki and the eventual Battle of Maruk, which would come to be known as Freeport, all that concerned her now was that she was back. Here, now, where she belonged… beside Sonak, back aboard the Hera.

Having stepped off of the pad to await the completion of the transport, Az'Prel couldn't hide her emotional response in the form of a dropped jaw at the outlandish sight of her friend and mentor of this universe. It seemed as if she had spent some time adventuring in yet another parallel or pocket reality during the transport, and her amazement at the transformation was something she could not hide.

On the bridge, Enalia had seen the whole thing go down and sighed in relief, slumping in her chair before issuing further orders. "Lieutenant Commander Sonak, when you have a chance, please update your uniform's rank. Commander Paris, please report to medical at your convenience. Az'Prel, welcome back aboard. Once you're all settled, we'll hold a briefing."

For the second time in barely a minute, Sonak's eyebrow went up. It took him a full three seconds to reply.

''Acknowledged, Captain.''

It had taken him that long to conclude that they had not both been transported into yet another parallel universe.

Laughing musically, Rita managed to look embarrassed as she tapped her comm badge, currently worn on her hip as a decoration amongst the links of chains holding up her loincloths. “Aye aye, Captain, I’ll be along. Congratulations on your well-earned promotion, Mister Sonak. The Captain and I planned to surprise you with it when you arrived back on board, we just… well, you know how it is. Lives like ours, never a dull moment. I know rank is immaterial to you, having been there and back, but you’ve proven yourself time and again onboard the Hera, and the captain insisted. You deserve this and more, Lieutenant Commander, as well you know… so as I said, congratulations.”

''Rest assured, the surprise was effective,'' the stoic Vulcan nevertheless admitted. ''I shall endeavor to prove myself worthy of my new responsibilities.''

“Already accomplished, mister Sonak. With that said, I should get a shower, brush my teeth properly for the first time in months, and get into a uniform so I can report in and remember just what my job is around here,” Rita grinned, sashaying off to the transporter room exit, apparently intending to cover the distance between the transporter room and their quarters in her somewhat outlandish native outfit.

Shame, after all, had never been Rita Paris’ strongest suit.