Hitting the Reset Button

Posted on Fri Nov 15th, 2019 @ 7:06pm by Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Ensign Fiona O'Dell & Ensign Briaar Gavarus
Edited on on Sun Nov 17th, 2019 @ 3:31pm

Mission: Family Detention
Location: Flight Control Office
Timeline: 2396

Standing in her office as Chief Flight Control Officer, Lieutenant Mnhei’sahe Dox felt good. She felt, perhaps, just a little better than she had in a good long while. After a month of captivity on a Rihannsu Warbird then two weeks of debriefings, interrogations, and hoop-jumping, she was home again to stay on the Hera. Her rank had been restored and her more familiar responsibilities were once again hers.

It was 0:600 hours when the young Chief Flight Control Officer had arrived at her office, a full hour earlier than required. But she was excited to both get back to work and to see the state of her office and get caught up. Sitting at her desk, she was thrilled to see that her command codes had been reinstated, but less thrilled to notice that her chair’s settings had been adjusted. Grimacing slightly, Dox readjusted the seat, which slid back down to her normal height. As Mona was only 2.5 centimeters taller than she was, Dox presumed that it must have been the 175 centimeter Ensign MacNielle that had been at the desk last. All of which was confirmed from the files and timesheets Dox was now reviewing to get caught up.

Looking over the daily reports, everything appeared to be in order. Every report was filed mostly properly, save for three with minor discrepancies from MacNielle that were simple enough fixes. There were several incident reports filed by an Ensign Edgar Mulligan Trelawney VII, a competent pilot with a stick up his posterior and an air of superiority that rubbed Dox the wrong way and reminded her of the JAG officer that had been assigned to her debriefings, Garney. Someone with an inflated sense of self-importance that tried using the letter of regulation as a cudgel. And in the case of Trelawney, they were cudgels he preferred to leverage against one Ensign Fiona O’Dell.

Reading the reports, they were all extremely minor non-issues that could have been dealt with without the need for official reports, and Dox noted that she would need to have a talk with the man and see what his issues were and see if she could find a workaround to improve the situation between the two pilots. All the issues reported should have been directed to the officer in command of the department first, but she would take care of it. That all worked out, the Red-headed flight chief had other things on her mind that were priorities at the moment, as she called up the latest round of simulation test results.

Before her kidnapping, Dox had scheduled a series of bridge combat flight simulations and she was pleased to see that Mona and MacNielle had carried out the sims on schedule and filed the reports. And in those reports, Dox saw what she was looking for.

Pausing, the young officer pondered how to best proceed. In the past, her demeanor as a department chief had earned her the nickname ‘Lieutenant Murderpunch.’ Sitting back, she knew this was damage she wanted to try and repair. When it came to command, Dox’s posture took on a cold tone and an authoritarian stance. It wasn’t a position she was completely comfortable with and she defaulted to a style that borrowed more than a little from the way her mother had raised her. Often more a ‘commander’ than a ‘mother’. But her mother was changing for the better, so she could as well.

After weeks forced to observe Riov Dalia Rendal’s command style on the Rihannsu Warbird, ‘The People’s Will’, Dox had come to a harsh realization that her command style was decidedly and unabashedly ‘Romulan’. As it was not a welcome comparison to her, and something she wanted to be better about, so she pondered her tactics for a moment. Calling up the duty schedules for the Flight Department and the adjoining R&D Department, she began typing. Moments later, she sent a request to the chief of R&D for a brief meeting with a certain pilot assigned to both departments who was currently over there at the moment.

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When the message in the eye scanner she was wearing started beeping insistently, Ensign Fiona O’Dell was currently elbows deep in the circuitry of the Thunderchicken, the original prototype of the variable mode fighter developed by R&D Chief Mona Gonadie. The Commander had come up with the idea, but it was Gonadie’s brilliance in revolutionary aerospace design that had brought the unique craft to life. Which had, by sheer luck, been assigned to O’Dell on a random rotation of testing with the testy Tellarite engineer Ensign Briaar Gavarus. The two had immediately hit it off, becoming lifelong partners, as Gavarus was a thorough and dedicated engineer who simply didn’t care for most people, while O’Dell was seldom taken seriously due to her diminutive size and cheerful demeanor which didn’t always camouflage a sharp tongue.

At the moment, she was upside-down in the cockpit, with her head up in the wiring harness behind the control panel, as it was easier for her to access due to her small size than the considerably larger and more rotund Gavarus. With a visual sensor overlaying one eye, the small and nimble hands of the picayune pilot were being guided by the experienced eye of the irascible engineer, as they mapped the cross-wiring changed Gavarus had performed to adapt the prototype, so the changes could be logged and applied to the second prototype, dubbed the Silver banshee by the ever-poetic O’Dell.

“Wassis noow… aww, shite and pog me thoin. Briaar, ye hafta haul me oota here… Lieutenant Murderpunch is callin’ me on the carpet,” O’Dell called to her partner, trying to keep her tone dismissive, although a pit had opened in her stomach and she was suddenly very afraid of what this meant. While the Lieutenant had been gone, they had appropriated the banshee to transport the exhausted Chief to her quarters and put her to bed in an effort to save her dignity. Which had, in turn, brought them into contact with the Lieutenant’s mother, a stern and disapproving Romulan intelligence expert whom they had somewhat forcible befriended and dragged out for drinking escapades.

Which O’Dell was now reviewing through a critical military discipline eye, wondering what regrettable thing she might have said in addition to what they had done which she was already aware of having broken a great number of rules and procedures in their misadventures. Hell, just having a baby shower for Amy Carrott in the R&D break room had been against regulations, as such gatherings were supposed to be held in 10-Forward or in a conference room.

There was little doubt she was in trouble- the question was how much and how severe. While she didn’t actually believe that the Lieutenant would physical punch her with one of the punishing blows she had seen her exchanging with some of the Klingon security officers, the small starfighter pilot was inherently afraid of physical violence, and her department head’s stern style did nothing to alleviate that fear. So while she was trying to sound casual about it, in the moment she was already reviewing her options if she was tossed in the brig or ejected from the service, and how she would manage her little family onboard with Briaar Gavarus and Minerva, the orphaned Minotaur babe they had adopted together.

After a moment, O'Dell felt the familiar three-fingered hands of her partner in crime and life, Briaar Gavarus around her diminutive middle. With a gentle pull and an audible grunt from the perpetually out-of-shape space swine, the Mariposian midget was slowly extracted from the Thunderchicken and placed carefully on the deck. Looking down, Gavarus rubbed the back of her neck and looked nervous. "The Lou? What do ya' think she wants? I mean, you didn't do anything like... wrong wrong. I mean, not anything she doesn't already know about, right?”

“Ah s’pose she might take offense to one or two of our shenanigans, or I mighta said something to Granny Murderpunch while I was drunk or… who the fook knows, aye? I’m sure it’ll be alreet. I mean, she’s nae allowed ta punch me head off, right?” O’Dell joked as she wiped the insulating gel off her hands and shrugged back into her duty jacket. “Or mebbe she’s watchin the cameras and her panties are abunch aboot me bein oota uniform. I’m sure ‘tis nothin serious, Briaar,” O’Dell lied fluidly.

If Gavarus thought Fiona was in danger or career jeopardy, she’d be right there to defend her. In this case, having both drunken miscreants of the R&D department trying to defend their actions wasn’t going to do anything but get them both in equal amounts of trouble, if not serving to exacerbate the situation. So she blew it off as if it were no big deal, and hoped her bestie would buy it.

"I'm sure it's nothing. She just got back so she's probably just goin' through like... paperwork or some shit and has some Officery crap to go over. Just smile and nod and say 'Aye, ma'am' a lot and it'll be fine, Fee. Besides, the Chief is super happy today, so if her wife was pissed, I'm sure it would show, right?"

“Aye, that she is… the pretty bird’s got a glow aboot her this marnin, to be sure. Tis nice ta see her nay moltin’ and frettin nae more, aye?” O’Dell replied, looking toward the R&D office door where their fine feathered chief was currently nested, dreaming up the next innovation while she waited on that wiring harness report.

"Yeah," the hefty handygal agreed. Then Gavarus cracked an awkward smile and chuckled nervously. "But still, probably don't wanna be late and really tork her off."

“Aye, aye… do I look alreet? Officer presentable, look like I ne’er do inny work and like I dinna wake oop five times last night to feed a bottomless pit?” O’Dell smiled standing at attention for inspection with a smudge of grease on her pale rosy cheek.

"Yeah, yeah. You look... hold on." As Gavarus looked her partner over, she spied the spot of grease and, licking a thumb, reached down and wiped it clean. "Yeah, there you go. You look great and..."

Then the towering Tellarite paused and knitted her eyebrows, "Oh, dear GODS, I just did that. We ARE mothers. Okay, go on. I'll finish the wiring report for the chief."

Taking the large, rough, calloused three-fingered hand in both her own small, pale and delicate hands, Fiona O'Dell briefly held it to her cheek, gazing up at her porcine partner with a small smile, taking some strength and confidence from her odd yet fulfilling relationship. Then inhaling sharply, she let it out as a sigh before releasing the hand that was roughly the size of her head. Scampering off to the edge of the upper flight deck, the tiny test pilot slid down the rails of the stairs to the main flight deck, turning to the Chief Flight Control Officer's office, located directly below. Steeling herself, O'Dell approached from the flight deck side, where the transparent aluminum walls meant the Lieutenant would see her coming.

Stepping inside, O'Dell marched up to the desk and came to attention, offering an actual proper salute.

"Ensign O'Dell reportin' as ordered, Lieutenant," she managed, her voice only cracking a bit at the end. She hoped the loose fit of her trousers would prevent her superior officer from seeing her knees knocking as she tried to put up a professional front, while inside her mind she tried to think of everything she might be getting called out on so she could invent excuses for it.

While Dox had her head focused on the computer on her desk the whole time, she had watched the tiny test pilot coming out of the corner of her eye the whole time and picked up on the anxiety half a deck away. Looking up, Dox folded her hands in front of her on the desk, glancing briefly at the model of the U.S.S. Exeter that Rita Paris had gifted her and thought of her Commander's demeanor. Pursing her lips slightly, her own anxiety was showing slightly as she hoped to try and alleviate some of O'Dell's own. 

"At ease, Miss O'Dell. Please, have a seat." Gesturing to the chair in front of her desk, Dox offered a mild smile that was a little nervous, though she had no idea how it would be taken.

For her part, O'Dell gulped audibly, then climbed up into the chair, her legs no longer making it to the ground as she sat on the edge of the seat. She tried to put her arms on the armrests, but it felt ridiculous when she was trying to sit up straight and not just slouch in the chair or sit all the way back with her legs sticking out because her knees would go straight. Uncomfortable, instead she just took her hands and folded them in her lap, then her fingers began wrestling each other as she fidgeted nervously, a somewhat sickly nervous smile on her tightly closed lips.

A lone bead of sweat rolled down her temple as she continued running through that list of defenses for whatever she and Gavarus had done to get her called in.

Noticing how panicked O'Dell looked, Dox tried to figure out what would be the best tactic for moving forward that wouldn't make the situation worse. Thinking the situation over in her head, Dox's eyes widened ever so slightly as she did, How in Areinnye does Rita do this? Come off as calm and in charge without making everyone freak out at her. It's...

Fvadt. This is me in my first couple of weeks on the ship, terrified that every time anyone wanted to talk to me I was going to be booted out of the service. That's what she's doing. She's sitting there running through every possible thing she might have messed up, just like I did. Like I still do. Dox thought, looking at O'Dell sitting there in the oversized chair sweating. And realizing that, she let out a light breath and sat back slightly in her own chair. The chair her own short legs dangled in when she first sat down after MacNielle had readjusted it earlier.

"Miss O'Dell, breathe. You aren't in trouble. I've not called you here to chew you out. Tell you what, walk with me, please." Getting up from her desk, Dox walked around to the side and gestured for O'Dell to follow as she stepped to the holo emitters in the center of the room, hoping that the 6 inch height difference would be less of an issue standing than it seemed to be in the chair that was too big for her. "Is that what you're thinking? That I've been watching everything you do and I want to chastise you or you and Ensign Gavarus for something?"

"Yuir nae takin me ta the gymnasium, are ye mum? Sir? Lieutenant?" Fiona wasn't actually sure which form of address her superior preferred, so she just ran through them, hoping one would be right. It sounded like a trap, a trick question, so she didn't know how to answer. When she spoke her brogue was deepening as she clambered out of the chair to hesitantly stand near but not too closely. "Ah dinna thin'ye watch everthin Ah doo, nae mum. Sir. Leftenant."

"Mine does that too, Miss O'Dell." Dox looked down at the only woman on the ship shorter than her and smiled. "My accent. I try to cover it up more often than not, but it gets thicker when I'm anxious. But, as I said..." As the Lieutenant spoke she reached up and pulled her hand down in the air, and with it came a series of holographic screens replicating the data that was on her desktop computer. On one screen, the feed from O'Dell's recent sim test at the Helm of the Hera in a combat scenario along with the date from it, "...you don't need to be anxious. We're staying here, and Lieutenant or Ma'am will be fine."

Stepping back slightly so the screens were easier to see, Dox smiled. "I asked you here, in part, because of this. Your sim results in the most recent combat flight tests performed while I was... indisposed. Do you have any idea where you rank, Miss O'Dell?"

"Not... good, mum?" O'Dell winced. "M'nae used to sooch a big girl, m'more of a small craft pilot, so thet's why m'nae s'good wi'er. Ah could, uhhh, spend s'more time in th'sims I magine, bmebbe one up a tetch more...?" The pixie pilot wasn't looking at the data onscreen, just making excuses for what she assumed was her poor performance.

“On overall sim numbers for the department, you rank third on the ship. I rank second and Ensign Gonadie ranks first… by a considerable gap.” Dox smirked as she turned back to O’Dell. “But this test, I wasn’t there to take and Ensign Gonadie was administering it. In this test, you ranked number one. By a considerable gap. It was a sim based on a Combat mission I flew against Valkryie craft at Starbase 336 just before you joined the crew, and you aced it, Miss O’Dell.”

Pointing at the screen while the sim replay ran silently, Dox ran her finger through empty space as she continued, “But, as you observed, you fly her like someone uncomfortable with her size. You take turns slower than you need to. You’re riding her right up to the line of what the manual says is safe, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m here to tell you that this girl is faster and more maneuverable then you imagine. I would like to help show you how to really open her up.”

Folding her arms back behind her, Dox nodded to the ceiling and the holo displays vanished as she walked over to the desk and sat back down. As she did, she gestured to the seat and asked softly, "I'm assuming you have questions? You have permission to speak freely, so feel free."

Internally, O'Dell was still not sure what this was really about, so she shrugged her narrow shoulders. When she spoke, it was clear that she was choosing her words carefully, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. "I kin do better mum, aye, and I kin, uh, push her more in the sims..."

Leaning forward, Dox pursed her lips and took a breath. It was an exasperated expression, but a fairly safe one as it was clear that O'Dell was practically looking down at her own feet. The young pilot was still terrified and still hearing what she was expecting to hear, not what was being said. Dox didn't want to threaten her or intimidate her. Looking across at the diminutive pilot that seemed to be almost shrinking as she stood there, she saw herself. 

If it wasn't enough that O'Dell was short and red-headed, Dox could also see the twitchy body language, lack of eye contact and compressed limbs. She was literally ready to run and hide and in that moment, she realized that the Mariposian pilot was looking at her much the way she looked at her Mother as a child pilot on that smuggling ship where every decision was a test waiting to be failed. And Mnhei'sahe Dox didn't want to be that woman. 

"You were partially incorrect earlier, Ensign." Dox said with a more serious tone. She was going to have to make O'Dell pay attention and if pushing those buttons could turn that fear into reaction, then that's what Dox would try. After all, it helped with her. "I do watch most everything that happens on that Flight Deck. I do watch the security feeds and review performance that way. If you're on duty, then yes, you're being watched to some degree."

"So yes, I know all about you and Ensign Gavarus' misadventure with the Silver Banshee and Ensign Gonadie. Which means I know all about my Mother's involvement in that affair. I know all about your child getting away from you and almost going over the edge of the deck. It's part of my job to know what's happening in this room and out on that deck. And yes, I read the reports that come across this desk. You've been written up four times this month for your conduct. And I do not disregard those things." Dox said with a slight snap to her voice.

"If you'd prefer, I can file a report that says that you're unfit to be an officer on this ship. We're still docked and I can file a transfer right now and you can take your leave and not have to worry about this anymore. OR, you can tell me why I shouldn't do that. Because you see, I don't watch those feeds to see what you're doing wrong. Reports from overzealous Ensigns trying to ladder climb will tell me that. I watch to see WHO you are. So I know that the nonsense with the Banshee was to protect your Chief, for which you all risked your careers. I watch to see that you were only even in here with that baby so Miss Gavarus could properly restock her tools and follow protocol to not get written up again. And I have seen the lengths you will go to to protect those people and that is not behavior I wish to punish."

"You're afraid of me."  Dox stood back up and walked over to O'Dell and looked down at her, hating herself just a little for doing so but desperately wanting to get through to the woman, "Because I don't smile on duty, so you think my doing so now is a trap. Because I pay attention and you're afraid I'm building a list of offenses with which to come after you. I fight with the Security team and I am a dangerous woman, and you're afraid that I might turn that on you. Because I don't socialize with the crew in Ten-Forward and take the proverbial uniform off when I'm off duty that you can see... so you have no idea how I'll react if you tell me how you're feeling." 

"So, as I see it, you have a choice to make, Miss O'Dell. Continue to be afraid of me to the detriment of your career, and let me transfer you off this ship. I'm quite sure, after that, Ensign Gavarus would resign and follow you right off, her own career be damned." Dox looked down, making eye contact with the slightly shorter woman, throwing the career of O'Dell's partner into the mix hoping to spur on the woman's protective instincts that clearly drove her to overcome her own fear in the past, "OR you can stand here and tell me exactly why I should not only keep you in this department but push you ahead to advanced tactical maneuvering and put the lives of everyone in this ship in your hands, because I know you can do it."

"Because I DO watch you. I've watched you stand up to Pirates. I've seen you, badly injured, talk your partner into facing her own fears to save both of your lives. I've seen you get into the cockpit of untested machines and push yourself past the breaking point just to prove your worth. In short, I believe in you, Ensign, even if I haven't shown that in the past, and that's on me. So I need you to believe that."

"Or, you can leave now and toss two careers away, because you're afraid." Dox sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk that O'Dell had been standing next to and looked up at the Junior officer, purposefully putting her own eyes below O'Dell's eye level. "It's your call, Ensign."

"Don't... don't you threaten Gavarus' career, mum," O'Dell started quietly, lip twitching a bit. "She's a... a damn good engineer, and she's improved the Chief's designs a lot workin' wi' us. And I'm... aye, I'll admit it, I'm bluiddy afraid of ye. I mean, what d'ye expect? Ye're... severe. Like yuir mum, but w'oot the sense 'a humor. But see, she dinna have rank, and yuir me department head, and Ah knoow I wouldnae be a test pilot wi'oot yuir approval, but... aye, part of it's that ye nivvir smile and, Ah mean, and watching ye and the Klingons spar.... it, uhm. Yuir... a, yuir a vurrah angry woman, mum. Lieutenant. VURRAH angry."

Emboldened a bit by not being cut off, the anxious ensign continued, gaining a bit more confidence as she spoke. "The Chief, she's a rum sort, y'know? She doesnae listen to our foolishness because she knows we work hard and play hard and as long as we do good work she's willin ta overlook the rest, aye? But..." O'Dell paused to look up, making hesitant but genuine eye contact for the first time as her words began tumbling out a bit faster- in defense of another, of course.

"Ah dinna know ye a'tall. I mean, we did our best wi' the Chief while ye were gone or whativvir... which, whativvir ye were doin' she was worried sick aboot ye. She cried in her office almost every day, and we did our best to distract her an' keep her occupied, but twasn't right of ye to put a pregant woman through that, pardon me sayin, mum. Chief Gonadie's a fine officer and a sweet lass wi' a good heart an' it was... well, whativvir ye were up to, ye were breakin' her heart, Lieutenant. Mum." The little lass they called Leprechaun realized she was going a bit too far chastising her intimidating superior, and backed it down a bit. "So, um.. aye mum, sorry, I get, ah wound oop a bit. What, ah, were ye wantin' me ta do noow?"

"It's okay. I told you to speak freely and I meant it, so you have nothing to apologize for," Dox replied, smiling a bit more and nodding. "And we can get back to what the official purpose of this meeting is in a moment, but you were frank with me, and as such, you deserve to get that right back."

"This is just me talking now, Miss O'Dell. No ranks. What you did for my wife while I was gone, I will never forget. She cares about you two deeply and she let me know exactly how good it was that you and Miss Gavarus bent over backward to distract her and help her not feel alone. And while I don't show it properly, I like you both as well. You have good hearts and are both exceptional at your jobs." Leaning back in her chair, Dox sunk just a bit and sighed. "And you're right. I wish I could undo what happened, but I can't. I should have been here, but I was taken away. My mother and I were kidnapped. Violently. And Mona... Ensign Gonadie watched it happen and I wish I could take that horrible memory out of her head, but I can't."

Listening, O’Dell blanched a bit. That was where Granny Murderpunch- which she realized she might have to amend that nickname- had been for the past month, AND that was why Chief Gonadie had been so afraid the whole time and so vulnerable. Apparently, it had brought the Lieutenant to a few realizations too, because it was clear the woman was making quite the course change. Imagining for a brief second how she would have reacted had it been her own little family that was kidnapped, and her respect for Chief Gonadie grew that much more. Because she would have been a drunken wreck for a month.

Sitting back up a bit straighter and smiling again, Dox changed the tone and nodded a bit, not wanting to dwell, "But... she had you two to help her not think about it, and I am very glad for that. I know I can be severe and distant and... as a result... scary. But I'm trying to be better and change that, and I appreciate you telling me as much. I hope you will continue to do so, moving forward."

"Because moving forward is the official reason I wanted to talk to you, Miss O'Dell. You're an exceptional pilot. You're intuitive, clever, resourceful and fearless behind a stick, but you're afraid of the big ship. It intimidates you and I think I can help you get past that and fly her like you own her." Dox leaned a little forward with her hands on her desk and raised her eyebrows.

"Now, while I can make it an order, I would like your input because the blunt reality is that this ship needs you. In a crisis, I'm often on the Away team and in a couple of months, Ensign Gonadie will be on restricted duty. As such, the Captain will need someone at that helm that can do what isn't in the manuals and certainly isn't safe. I believe that can be you. What do you think?"

There was still hesitation evident, as O’Dell’s thin lips pursed to the side, and her eyes darted about nervously as she internally considered what had been said. But in the end, there was no choice for the pixie pilot. “Me… me family’s aboard, mum. Yours too. I hear the Captain’s got a wee bairn noow, and… I canna let innything happen to any of them, if I kin help it. I’m, um, not… I’m not a vurrah good officer mum and I know that. I do what I have to ta get by and nae much else. But… but.”

“When I was wee… uh, less than I am noow,” the diminutive daredevil qualified, “I wasnae good for nothin. I was allays too small, too weak, too fragile, too crass, too whatever or nae enough whativvir. Same in the Academy, same in Flight School. But once they got me a chair that fit and got me some controls I could reach, I found the one thing I am good at, and that’s flyin.”

Swallowing, as the admission was difficult to make to the superior officer who intimidated her, O’Dell’s red brows furrowed as she pressed onward. “If the ship needs me… well, mum, like I said, me family’s aboard. All of ours are. If I kin make sure nothin’ will happen to alla them, then I canna say no. I’ll do whativvir ye need of me, Lieutenant. I’m a good pilot, and as scared as I am of bein on the bridge and messin oop in fronta God, the Captain and everybody else… aye mum. Ye show me what I need to do different, and I’ll fly ‘er like the devil hisself is one step behind us.”

Leaning a bit further forward, Dox nodded. "Being a good officer? It's more than knowing the correct protocols and memorizing the right way to shake hands. BOTH of which I botched spectacularly during my own onboarding, by the way. No, to me, the most important parts of being a good officer are in that you always perform your duty to the best of your ability, and you do that. That you do your part to elevate the officers around you so that everyone does better… and you do that, O’Dell. Also, that you're willing to do the hard work to ensure that your ship is safe. You've done that, continue to do that, and just affirmed that you will work even harder at that. That makes you a good officer to me, Miss O'Dell."

The short starfighter jockey smiled and sat up a bit straighter at that, genuinely surprised to hear such praise from her seemingly by-the-book superior. While she was proud of her skills, she had never before been referred to as a good officer, and the small pride she felt at hearing such praise made her heart swell in her narrow chest.

"A lot of the rest are things you will improve with time and a little work." Dox rubbed her hands together, nodded and smiled. "That said, I will prepare a new training schedule with you, and ensure it doesn't cut into your duty schedule with Ensign Gonadie in R&D where your work is invaluable to this ship. There are some modifications to the bridge station that are customizable for each officer who uses them, which I think you'll really enjoy working with. Actually, I’m quite excited to show them to you."

The meeting had turned around and Dox was legitimately happy to see a little less fear in O'Dell's eyes. "Until then, dismissed. That said, Miss O'Dell..."

Pausing, Dox thought about her next words. She wasn't Rita Paris. She wasn't Enalia Telvan. And she certainly refused to be Riov Dalia Rendal. So she had to figure out how to be herself in this moment and learn to trust that. "I know I can't order you to not be afraid around me, but I would like to apologize for making you feel that way. I know firsthand that fear is a horrible way to try to lead, and I should have known better. I really appreciate that you were willing to tell me everything you that you did today. Pointing out a superior officer's mistakes takes more courage than most possess, and I wouldn't be worthy of that position if I didn't acknowledge that, and say thank you."

Looking around a little, still not entirely positive of where she stood, O’Dell studied her superior officer for a moment, the gears clearly turning behind those big emerald eyes of hers. Committing to the decision, she nodded. “Aye mum… Lieutenant. I, um… Ensign Gavarus says I spook a little easy, and she, ah, explained to me that seein’ me jump at stuff and bein afraid of people was, ah, kinda hurtful. To those people I’m scared of, I mean. Soo… I’m sorry too, mum. Maybe… ye could come oot for a drink wi’ us sometime…?”

“I mean, I know tisane catchin us at our best and we’re uncoth, as yur mum puts it. Mrs. Dox, I mean,” O’Dell backpedaled slightly, but still stuck to her point. “But it’s… ah, tis the best way for us to get to know someone, and tis what we do in our spare time, and I know ye’ve a lot on yuir plate and all, but… twould maybe be a way we might see ye more as a person and less of a, er…” O’Dell fished for some way to say ‘scary potentially murderous officer who could break their careers in a heartbeat who was trying to be nicer’, but couldn’t quite find a way to say that without being offensive. Instead, she just grinned a nervous grin, hoping her message would be well received.

Thankfully for the Liliputian pilot, it was. As was the unspoken fear still just under the surface that Dox chose to overlook, realizing that such things would take time, and that O'Dell's suggestion was likely a good way to do so. With a tilt of the head, Dox replied with a smile and the slightest of chuckles. "Miss O'Dell, that sounds like an excellent idea and I would be glad to join you and Miss Gavarus. How does twenty-one hundred hours sound?"

“Mebbe twenty hundred mum? The wee one has to be put to bed by twenty-two hundred, so we start a tetch earlier these days so’s we kin get her ta bed, because heaven forbid she not get her sleep- she’ll be headbutting everyone the next day, and she dinna care for most babysitters. Well, save for yuir own mum, who she likes better’n me,” O’Dell grinned, the topic having taken the onus off her and to one of her favorite subjects, the adorable baby creature of legend she and her partner were raising together.

“Would ye prefer a family affair wi’ the chief and yuir mum? She enjoys shenanigans in the pub, but I understand if that would make it hard for ye to unwind. Y’know, nivvir mind. We’ll git Granny Mu-ahhhh, Mrs. Dox to babysit so’s it can be joost us. Have a few drinks, throw some darts, tell some stories and get ta know each other a bit, aye?” It was clear that the idea was gaining ground with the little stereotype in motion, as she was being freer with her opinions and ideas.

In truth, Dox was slightly relieved it would just be her and the couple as she would then not have to worry about her mother making the situation awkward. After all, it was difficult to be relaxed and natural when one's mother was there, so this suited the young Lieutenant perfectly. "Twenty hundred hours it is, Miss O'Dell. I look forward to it."

“Aye, mum! We’ll see if we kin lick ye at darts, aye?” O’Dell offered with a mischievous grin before hopping off the chair and bounding out to the flight deck, doubtless to share the news with her porcine partner.

Smiling, Dox got back to her work preparing an intensive lesson plan she knew the pint-sized pilot would ace., letting out the slightest of sighs of relief. She had been on the Hera little more than a month before she had been named the chief of the Flight Control Department and it was both an honor and a responsibility. But, with the exception of Mona, it served to also distance her slightly from most all the other pilots on the ship. After all, command responsibilities were completely new to the young woman who herself had still been an Ensign only a little over a year ago.

But she was learning… and she hoped that this was a positive first step in growing into the role, and caring for the people with whom she had been entrusted.