Wild Cards

Posted on Tue Jan 28th, 2020 @ 5:45pm by Ensign Briaar Gavarus & Ensign Fiona O'Dell

Mission: Bachelorette Bash
Location: USS Hera, Deck 3. R&D Locker Room
Timeline: 2397

Wrestling out of the flight suit, which was lighter and less heavily reinforced, yet allowed the diminutive daredevil considerably greater mobility, complete with reinforced lightweight gloves that let the dextrous digited dame do much of what she did. That and her reflexes, which were surprisingly high, as was her hand-eye coordination all added up with a healthy lack of fear in the cockpit to the makings of a good test pilot.

As she popped her helmet off and shook out the mop of curls that dominated her head, O'Dell backed up to the docking port on the wall where the dorsal of her flight suit connected, unclasping itself at the waist and the ventral plate rising up on the shoulder hinges to allow the nimble lass to escape from the primaryhard point of the armor. Now came the process of shucking off the bodysuit, which was something she'd had plenty of practice with. Unlocking and shucking the gloves, Fiona tossed them over to land in her helmet on the deck.

Across from her, the two-meter Tellarite was still struggling- not with the armor, which she could get in and out of fine. It was the wrestling match with the reinforced bodysuit that tended to be her nemesis. Watching her struggle and pull at the thing as if it were a symbiote attempting to resist separation, seeing her frizzy blonde ponytail bobbing and twitching as she thrashed about, the little leprechaun smiled. Strong, yet gentle, a little comically clumsy, but always protective of her. The one person in the entire cosmos who not only got her, but appreciated her. As she snorted, the space swine pinched something and squealed slightly, and Fiona snickered a bit. So ye run off from the life of learnin the old ways of the farmers of old, to go to space, to settle down with the biggest pig ye've ivvir seen to raise a cow together. Now yuir off to a bridal shower fuir a Baroness. Yuir life's fookin weird, y'daffy girl.

Looking at the message that they had both received again on her PaDD while O’Dell was changing out of her EVA suit in the R&D Department locker room, Ensign Briaar Gavarus read it aloud. “You are hereby ordered to accompany the bridal shower of Baroness Schwein von Alcott… see attached file... Dress for a night of barhopping, heavy drinking and regrettable behavior. Ranks are checked at the door. Meet in the Goddess Salon, Deck 10 within the half hour. Cudder… oh, duh, Commander PARIS.”

“I don’t get it, Fee. I mean, this Baroness chick don’t know us. Why the hell would we get invited for this? And why do we have to wear these weird-ass Wonder Woman bracelets that the Chief told us to wear?” The portly porcine said while she switched out of her uniform to change for the party. “I’m kinda freaking out.”

On the narrow bench was two sets of metal bracers with reliefs of Olympian figures on them that the Tellarite Engineer had no idea about.

"Alreet, let's think aboot this. S'a bridal shower. Noow, back home, that was an excuse fuir the bride ta git sloshed wi' a bunch of their frinds and go pubhoppin. PARTICULARLY in another town, so's as not to ruin yuir reputation in one of your own pubs, a'course. Noow, assumin' that's still the case, the woman's bloody royalty. So she's probably got a stick up her arse and shies away at the sight of dirt and is as excitin' as a slow boiled haggis. Noow, if ye had a dignitary like that, which I assume that's what she is, aye? If ye need to show sooch a personage a good time, who do ye call? Commander Lookitmearse or Cap'n Broody? Because ye joost KNOW those girls, woo, aye, ye know they joost bring the party. Whoop, holler." By the time she had the diatribe delivered, Fiona had it down to a monotone to illustrate the lack of excitement.

"Sooo, ye want some fun at the bacherlorette, ye call the professional drunks! The pub crawlers who know their way from one pub to the next by instinct. The ones who dinna mind playin the fool, and dinna mind sayin what comes ta mind when they've had a pint or two. See? Tis all there in the orders- 'rank checked at the door', S'what she's sayin, we're free to be proper obnoxious!" As she explained it to Gavarus, O'Dell was actually getting excited to be ordered to go for a night in the pub.

"I dunno, Fee." Briaar said as she almost fell over trying to pull her disproportionately small hooves out of the pantlegs of her bodysuit. "Gyaa! Shit! Shit! I got it. I'm good."

Righting herself on the wall of lockers, the two-meter tall Tellarite woman knitted her eyebrows as she tossed the suit in the reclimator, standing there in her hearts and flowers matching underwear. "Part of me just thinks some of those command officers just want to bring the sideshow so they have something to point and laugh at. But... but you're probably rig... you're usually right. And Granny MurderPunch said she'd watch Minnie tonight. So... I guess?"

"Tis our duty, Gavarus me old chum!" Fiona grinned as she made the request from the replicator, then produced a neat pile of clothes with black shoes parked atop them. "T'was orders, doncha know. Besides, we'll be the only ones there wearin comfortable shoes, I'll wager..."

"Ooh, sweet. Our weird, fake holusuite Risa outfits. If we're being ordered to party, at least we'll look frickin' badass." Briaar said with an awkward side grin as she tried to work up her courage, which immediately made her think of her favorite form of courage. "So, you think this salon'll have some frickin' drinks? 'Cuz I need a frickin' liquid appetizer to do this."

"Tis a girly thing. Aye, they'll drink shite wi' too much sugar early on so's they get their energy oop, then be all manic by the time they git where they're goin and star slidin' facefirst into 'I'll hold yuir hair fuir ye' wi'in the first hour anna half o'gettin to the first pub. Stick wi' what works fuir us- whativver this spot they've got, it has a replicator. We're on orders and off duty, so aye, I plan to get legendarily drunk," Fiona explained as she slipped into then belted her black slacks.

"So what, like a quarter of a Guinness?" Briaar asked as she pulled on the 'wifebeater' undershirt.

"Shoot the moon, Ah might joost down a half!" O'Dell chirped. Pulling on the crisp white cotton shirt, she realized she'd made tuxedo cuffs for their shirts, and shrugged. Stepping back to the replicator, she typed in the request, reviewed the options and replicated two pairs of cufflinks. Working one pair into her own sleeves, she stepped over to Gavarus.

"Here, I made the cuffs for cufflinks, so... joost hand me your sleeve, aye, I'll get 'em in fuir ye." As she worked at getting the cufflinks in, Briaar could see the ones Fiona was wearing. On one cuff she had a cartoon of a muppet pig, while in the other was a four leaf clover. The matching set, she was finishing installing in the cuffs of the suited swine.

"Okay, those are frickin' cute." Briaar said, starting to lock in to Fiona's positive energy and display a little of it herself. "So, we get there. Get started and we show these lightweight bitches how it's frickin' done. AND we try to not actually call them 'lightweight bitches' at least until they're lit up too. Cuz, seriously, I trust that 'no ranks' shit as much as I could fit into one of Lady Juggsalots miniskirt uniforms."

"Well, ye'd fit in one, it'd joost be showin a lot more skin than she does in it," O'Dell muttered as she affixed the cufflink for her porky partner. "So we've got that order in writing, Gavarus. So they try any shite with us after the fact to say we were malingerin' or insubordinate or mean, we've got an excuse at our court-martial, and I'd carry that one all the way to Starfleet Command. So dinna ye worry none- we get to be us, do as we like, liven up the party and be the professionals among the crew of tightasses who are pickin up our bar tab!" Hopping up to stand on the bench, Fiona produced the tie for the outfit, whipped it about the thick neck of the tall Tellarite, and began to expertly tie it for Gavarus, who had no idea how such a fashion accessory worked.

"Well, yeah. But I meant literally one of her uniforms. Heh. That would be a picture and a half." Making a light horking sound as Fiona tightened the tie, then loosened it ever so slightly for comfort, Briaar smiled down at her pint-sized partner who looked positively perfect to her in her smart, black suit. "Thanks. I can't tie that noose to save my life. Which, ya' know, engineer. I should be a bit better at following the directions, but frickin' whatever."

Then, pulling on the jet-black jacket, the portly porcine smirked as she struck a dramatic pose, hands on her hip, her doughy chin stuck out in an exaggerated, hyper-serious pout. "What'cha think? Are we gonna be stylin' and profilin' wherever this shindig is gonna go down, or what?"

Grabbing her own jacket to slide it on, Fiona slipped on her black sunglasses and leaned against her best buddy. "Aye. We'll be stylin and profilin, and the envy of every gal in the joint. Besides, who else has a whole lotta lovin like this, aye?" Patting the round tummy of her portly partner, O'Dell smiled fondly.

Smirking down at Fiona, Briaar slipped on her own sunglasses and grabbed her miniature mate by the shoulder and tugged her in a little tighter. "You know that's right. Let's DO this shit!"

"Ya' know..." the still anxious engineer tilted her head and chuckled, "Before I come to my frickin' senses and hurl all over myself. heh."