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10-4 Good Buddy

Posted on Sun May 3rd, 2020 @ 1:07pm by Ensign Briaar Gavarus & Ensign Fiona O'Dell
Edited on on Tue May 19th, 2020 @ 12:36pm

Mission: Return to the Core
Location: Galandorn Expanse
Timeline: 2397

As the universe turned inside out in a cosmic spectacle of gravitic and stellar forces being violated until they shrieked, Ensign Fiona O'Dell's finger hovered over the 'execute' button in the cockpit of the experimental Silver Banshee prototype craft she was piloting. She'd done her damage and warped out in a short hop that left her thousands of kilometers away from the space battle she'd been participating in a moment ago.

Now, after a rather spectacular explosion of a D'Deredix class battlecruiser which she herself had caused, and the formation of an inexplicable bubble of energy had formed in the theater of operations, the scanners seemed to show nothing. Previously there had been 3 more Romulan battlecruisers, the USS Hera and another 9 support craft from the Hera, as well as the IKR Iurret. Now there was just empty space.... no rift, ho starships, no nothing. Checking her scanners to see if she had vastly overshot her mark with the little warp hop she had done, O'Dell verified she was in the right spot of the universe- everything else, it seemed, was gone.

"Green leader to nest, this is Leprechaun calling the chicken coop- Hera, do you copy?"

Silence.

"Hera, this is Ensign O'Dell reporting in- do you copy? Gold leader, blue leader, red leader, sound off."

More dead silence was the response, which was starting to make the little lass in the pilot's seat a bit anxious.

"Leprechaun to base, anybody, do you copy?"

"Starfleet vessel. I am receiving you." came a strange voice from the comms.

"Ah, and who exactly would you be, aye?" O'Dell responded, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"My name is... Garnak. I am the pilot of the towing vessel... 7 X 9 dash Vee." came the stern sounding voice with the trademark attitude O'Dell recognized from her conversations with Mrs. Dox back on the Hera.

'Soooo are ye with the Romulans, or...? O'Dell was busily scanning local space to seek out the source of the signal, finally deciding that a fuzzy patch of space a few hundred kilometers off her port bow was the most likely source.

"I am a proud Romulan. I live in service to my house, and to the empire and was assigned to this mission by my Mistress." The ever-so-slightly anxious response came, illustrating that if it was the Tal'Shiar, they were doing one hell of a job making themselves sound like a scared man trying to sound in control.

"So are ye seein what I'm seein? That the whole fleet is joost... nae there?" O'Dell ventured. She couldn't trust this individual, but right now, she had to admit she was glad to hear a voice. Being all alone out here would be a bit daunting.

"My sensors show no other vessels. The mothership left with the station I had been assisting in towing out of that spatial rift, but the other ships appeared to be... pulled in when it collapsed," the Romulan on the other end ventured, which verified what Fiona's scans were revealing. The sensors were telling her it was a gravitic spatial rift event, but the rest of the facts and figures made little sense to the tiny test pilot. She was a flyer, not a scientist, and this phenomenon looked to be far out of her league. Right now she wasn't ruling out a Romulan trick, or any other wild notions that might pop into her head. So it was time to see about building a little trust.

"Well, ye want to decloak so I have a bit more chance of believin' ye?" she asked, and a suddenly visible fuzzy sensor blob became defined as a smaller, squatter version of the T'liss haulers. The ship was roughly the size of a small freighter, shaped almost like a chibi version of the vintage Romulan ships of the Commander's era. The hull was scuffed and worn, but the sensors in the Banshee revealed just one individual on board and almost all engine, nacelles, and tractor beam emitters. All towing power, and the most rudimentary of offensive weapons.

And, most importantly, a damaged propulsion assembly and a fried field coil. For all it's engine power, the ship would barely be able to achieve 1/5th impulse, and at best only for an hour or two.

"Well, alreet then I guess ye are a glorified tow truck," O'Dell muttered under her breath, then tabbed the key to her mic again. "So what did yuir people joost do oot here, because I dunno aboot ye, but I canna see me starship, nor inny a' yours, nor pretty mooch innything but empty space oot here. Whatye got, aye?"

"I was assigned my mission, and as your sensors no doubt have revealed, I am incapable of escape." The voice said, a defensive edge to it settling in. "I was not made privvy to mission details, and to ask would not... not have been my place."

"Aye, alreet, that's pretty fair, I'll own," O'Dell muttered into the open mic channel, then read off what she was seeing on her scanners of the Romulan vessel. "So yuir a wee bit damaged over there... it dinna look like ye have a radiation leak into the compartment, so yuir nae goin' innywhere's, but ye're nae in immediate peril, aye?"

Over the comm, O'Dell could here a bit of fidgeting and button-pushing before the man's voice replied again. "No, I do not believe so. At least, not from radiation.

"My... propulsion is damaged. You have... scanned my offensive and... defensive capabilities. Honor... dictates my... options as... limited " he said as the Banshee's sensors detected a spike in the small towing vessel's engine output. But O'Dell could hear something else in the man's voice as it paused between words: fear.

"Hey noow, are ye setting the... HEY! NAE! You stop that self-destruct sequence right noow, y'hear me! Yuir nae captured and I am nae boarding ye, so there's no need to blow yuirself oop! C'mon, fella, we might be the sole survivors of this..." As she said the words, the realization that Briaar and Minnie might be gone struck at the heart of the picayune pilot like a dagger, but she refused to believe that. The Hera was tough, and her little family was safe out there. They HAD to be. But for now, Fiona felt compelled to stop the self-destructive Romulan tugboat driver.

"Please. I've nae interest in hurtin, capturin or takin yuir secrets," O'Dell pleaded, realizing that facing the possible deaths of everyone she served with was considerably more than she was prepared to bear emotionally. Thus the fate of the Romulan pilot marooned out here in deep space with her was somehow more important than it might ordinarily be for her. "I'm beggin ye, please dinna blow yuirself oop. Ye kin take me captive if it'll make ye feel better, aye? I dinna ken if ye kin tell, but these other two ships are joost slaved to mine, and they're unmanned. So really is joost ye and me oot here. So please, what do ye say... please dinna off yuirself, I'm beggin ya."

Inside the Romulan Freight Eagle, it's pilot sat, fingers over the console for a long moment before he replied. He had not yet set the sequence to explode and, in truth, didn't want to die. "Why... why do you care? My ship holds no secrets, save its technology. And I am sworn... sworn to obey my duty to... to..."

Pausing, his voice dropped at the realization that his mistress had left him to die with these orders. "My mistress... escaped. She... left me here."

Then, his voice hardened again, just as false-sounding as before. "No! This... this is a Starfleet trick. I shall not be swayed from my... my duty to... to the Empire. I am a LOYAL Romulan, Human!" At which he stopped himself and his voice took on a quizzical tone. "Wait. ARE you... human? Your speech pattern is unlike any I have heard before."

His hand hovered a little further away from the controls that would destroy him as the distraction of the question was enough for him to postpone the execution of his command just a bit longer.

"Wahhhhhl, I'm from a wee planet called Mariposa, in truth, but aye, I'm a human fer sure. But that's nae important reet noow! I'm nae tryin ta trick yez, it's joost... look, me paartnedr and me daater are on that starshjip that joost vanished wi'three a yours. And I'm tryin' real hard reet now ta not be thinkin aboot that. So seriously, what's it g'win ta take to convince you I'm not tryin' ta trick ya nor hoodwink ye... I joost want ye to live, is all." There was a pleading quality to the woman's voice, which she spelled out plainly for the enemy she'd found herself marooned with here in deep space. "We might just ha' lost a few thousand here, and... c'mon, nae ye too. Ye kin kill yuirself if yuir fleet comes back, alreet? But if not, don't ye owe it to yuirself to at least report in as the sole survivor?"

As she spoke the words, a cold hand of fear closed around the heart of the brave little pilot, and tears came to her eyes as she shoved aside the very real possibility that her family, her friends and her entire command might just have been swallowed by a cosmic phenomenon. But for now, she focused on the one life she might be able to save- that of a stubborn and suspicious Romulan tugboat pilot.

"You do not... you cannot under..." The voice said over the comm, cracking slightly as well. The man could clearly hear the desperation and fear in Fiona's voice and it mirrored her own. "You... you..."

Then, his tone changed entirely, and there was a vulnerability that hadn't been present previously. "What is... what is her name? Your daughter, Ensign O'Dell? Tell me something of her. I need to hear you speak of her."

Desperate to clutch at any straw that would prevent her from being alone out here, O'Dell banked into a standard scan pattern, the War Chicken and the Cherry Bomb flying in unison alongside her Silver Banshee. While it might not be Starfleet protocol, she'd talk about her wee one if it kept the fella talking.

"Ach, well, Minnie... Minerva's her first name, but we tend to joost call her Minnie. Which is funny because eventually she's g'win ta be bloody enormous," O'Dell warmed up, before she started rambling, as parents could do about their children. "But she's the sweetest little darlin ye ivvir did see. Good tempered, good natured, doesnae want to hurt a fly, gentle, caring. Ye kin see it in some bairn's eyes, y'ken? That they want ye to be happy. As a child, that's what make's 'em happy, is seein you happy. And she does see that, let me tell you... ohh, our wee Minnie, she laughs and giggles and snorts. A right rum sort, our wee one. I think she's aboot ready fuir preschool, give or take. Smart as a whip, too. Briaar, that's me paartner, she teaches her how to taker stoof apart and poot it back together, and she's gettin' it! Startin to make her letters and startin ta string words together. She's... she's joost a wee bundle a'sunshine that the sun kinda rises and sets on in our family quarters."

It was obvious that she'd gotten carried away talking about the focal point of her life, and O'Dell refocused on the task at hand, getting the readings from the area. There seemed to be a number of dispersing gravitons, with a particularly peculiar dispersion pattern. "Sorry... when it comes to me bebeh Ah can go on. What aboot ye, any little thruster pilots back home?"

There was a long pause and the sound of buttons being pressed over the comm. Then, after nearly twenty seconds of silence, his voice returned. "I... have a daughter as well. Her name is Faeoh. It means 'rain', in our language. She was born at the end of a long drought that decimated much of the land I worked. When she was born, the rains finally fell and we saw it as a sign... from the elements."

On the Romulan tug, its lone pilot let out the lightest of breaths as his mind settled. Whoever this strange human was, whatever purpose she truly served, he knew that the words she spoke of her daughter were true. He had heard her speak the truth and now knew it's sound upon her lips. And he now believed her other words, as well.

As he spoke, the sensors on the Banshee registered that the power buildup in the mid-sized towing vehicle had returned to normal, the build-up halted. "I would see her again in this life... if at all possible. My vessel came equipped with no navigational charts. I've... no idea how far we may be from any bases or worlds."

"Well dinna ye worry, me Romulan chum, because old Fiona's got it all. I've got star charts and alla that mess, I know joost where we are, and how far from there to here. What's got me puzzlin is what happened to the ships of our respective fleets, aye? No debris is a vurrah good sign, I'm hopin'," Fiona chattered on, relieved to hear the Romulan wasn't keen on blowing himself up. "Not that it looks like yuir ready to get to inny of 'em soon, but here's our coordinates... I took the liberty of pointing oot distances to a few places, includin home fuir ye, so's ye kin know how far to your own wee one- for now."

"We're gonna git oota this, ye and me, and yuir g'win ta see yuir Faeoh again, Garnak. Ye joost stay calm and leave it to wee Fiona, aye?" Knowing it probably wouldn't make a difference, she sent over the scans she was receiving. Unlikely that the tugboat captain would be able to make much sense of them, but Fiona meant every word- she was sharing information freely, because she wanted the man to trust her, and for all she knew he might be a brilliant astrophysicist. Either way, she'd be better to include him than not.

Again there was a moment of silence as the Romulan on the other end of the comm reviewed the data. Then, after a moment, he replied. "If our ships were pulled onto the other side of the singularity, then it is completely reasonable that they are intact. I... I have..."

Another pregnant pause filled the void between the two small ships before Fiona noticed a data packet come across her screen from the Romulan ship. "My job was one of the multiple ships to tow the derelict space station out of that region. It was unlike anything I had ever seen. It was... just blackness. No stars. Nothing. But... my ship has the most minimal of sensors. I have sent you what data my sensors collected from my time inside the rift."

"Well hey, lookit us makin progress, aye? Alreet, now..." there was a pause while the pixie pilot chose her words carefully. "I think we're gettin along fiine noow, so time fuir me to come clean. We're not completely marooned oot here, mate. In aboot three hours or so the USS Persephone is g'win ta be comin' along, and she's g'win ta offer ye aid fuir yuir damaged vessel, and they're goin' to want ta try to help our people- both our people- who might joost be on the other side of that rift. So... lettin ye know, alreet? I'm nae tryin' ta trick ya or noothin and I dinna want ye to be panickin' when they get here, y'ken?"

Immediately, he began to panic on the other side of the comm. Not because he didn't believe Fiona, because he wanted to. But because a lifetime of indoctrination against Starfleet was near impossible to ignore outright. but so far, he felt that the strange alien had yet to lie to him. He believed the desperation in her voice when she begged him not to initiate his ship's self-destruct.

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to survive, and for the first time in his life, he realized that he had more to fear from his own people then he did from his enemies. "Ensign O'Dell... If my ship is taken. If I am taken, my daughter will be... punished. She bears my name and would be put to blame for my crimes. But..."

Thinking for a moment, his mind raced as the Romulan man struggled with his situation. "But... perhaps if my actions can save those three Warbirds. Perhaps then... I can earn her freedom. Earn a true name."

"That's the spirit!" O'Dell crowed from the other end. "Look, yuir ship's nae g'win to be taken. I promise ye that, and trust me, I've got a lot of firepower here to back oop me word. I won't let yuir ship be 'captured'. It might get 'repaired', but ye remain a free man, and aye, I'm thinkin ye joost might be a hero if we play our cards right, aye? Ye and me workin together to save alla our people. I would be happy to give ye the credit, that ye secured me help and ye directed efforts and alla that. Tell the folks back home whatever version ye like and tis fine with me. But with these readings, I joost might have me an idea how to help our people lost on the other side of this thing. Are ye with me, Garnak?"

Listening, Fiona could hear an audible sigh. "I... I choose to trust you. Please. Be true. it is said that humans have no mnhei'sahe... no honor. But... but. You have shown honor."

"I dunno how honorable I am, m'friend, but I am a lass of me word. I want to see me big space pig and me wee munchkin agin, joost as much as ye want to see your wee Rain. Ye and me, we're g'win ta save the lot of 'em. I'll nae fail yuir trust, Garnak. Still a few hours until the Persephone arrives, though. So... no state secrets, no violation of orders or our respective services. But we can tell kid stories to wile the time, aye?" Taking the pause on the other end as acquiescence, Fiona O'Dell launched into a tale.

"This one time we went on vacation to Earth, to see Ireland, which is where my people colonized from. So we found this advert for a haunted castle, and we thought it'd be big fun, and nice for Minnie to see her culture a bit, aye? So we get to the castle, and reet off Minnie's fascinated..."


--------------------------

On the bridge of the Intrepid-Class Starship, Persephone, her captain was visibly nervous as she stood ahead of her chair, arms folded behind her back between the helm and Ops stations.  Captain Naraan Seria was a tall, stern-looking Cervan woman in command crimson. Her eyes had a half-lidded, judgmental expression and her jet black hair was up in a large bun on the back of her head, which emphasized the slight points to her ears that indicated, along with her olive complexion, that hers was an offshoot of the Vulcan people.

But not so close to her Vulcan ancestors that her emotions were in any way controlled, as she nervously twisted her hands together behind her back and spoke, "Range? Do we have anything?"

"We are in sensorrrrr rrrrange now, Captain. There is massive residue of Grrrravimetric disturbances in the sectorrrr and significant ionization... but no sign of the Herrrra or the Rrrrromulans." The young, gray-furred Caitian at Opps said. "Howeverrrrr... I am picking up the transponderrrr signals of fourrr smallerrr crrraft. Thrrrree Federrrration, one a Rrrrrromulan Frrreight Eagle."

"And rrreceiving a hail from the Starrrrfleet crrrraft, Captain. Frrrrom an... Ensign Fiona O'Dell. Also, with significant data packets frrrom the vessel." the Caitian at opps added.

"Excellent, Miss Rainaa." The Captain said as she looked over to the helm. "Mr. Pickins. ETA?"

The young, dark-skinned human man at the helm checked his console and nodded. "Dropping out of warp in 6 minutes, Captain."

"Also Excellent." The lean Cervan woman said as she went back to her command chair. "Tactical. Yellow alert. Keep a lookout for any distortions that might indicate a cloaked ship. Sickbay, prepare for injured. Science, I want a detailed analysis of all sensor readings available. Prepare Class 1 probes as needed. And open the comm, Miss Tommat. Visual if possible"

The computer replied with a pleasant chirrup as the Captain spoke. "This is Captain Naraan of the Federation Starship Persephone. We are receiving you, Ensign O'Dell."

"Well, top o' the mornin to ye!" came the cheerful voice from over the comms. "Me and Mister Garnak here was just catching oop, waiting fuir ye folks to arrive. Noow, his starship is crippled, and I convinced him nae to self destruct. But I need yuir word that he's not to be boarded or captured, as he's willing to help us try to recover the Hera and the battle cruisers from the other side of the spatial rift they got sucked into. But he canna be captured or potentially betray any Romulan secrets, and I promised him that wouldnae happen, alreet?"

There was a moment of silence on the bridge of the Persephone as her captain raised an eyebrow and processed what she had just heard. Both the information and its unorthodox source. "That was an extremely... bold promise for you to have made, Ensign. However, the Federation is actively trying to not let this incursion escalate into open conflict between us and the Star Empire. That gives us some discretion to make... accommodations."

"For now you can assure this... Mister Garnak... that we shall honor your... promise. At least pending further information and your debriefing." Captain Naraan continued. "Now, we are still reviewing your data packets and will have a great many questions about this... spatial rift and the whereabouts of the Hera. What is the current status of you and your vessels? Do you require immediate assistance in a capacity, technical or medical?"

"Wahhhhl, this is an open channel, mum, so he's been listenin to every word," O'Dell pointed out, rolling her eyes where no one could see. "As for me current status, all three vessels are undamaged and at full capacity. I've a theory or two me and Mister Garnak have cooked up while we bin waitin' on ye, and we'll damn well keep me promises to Mister Garnak, mum, wi' all due respect. His vessel's damaged but in no danger, he has refused offers of mechanical assistance and he is within his rights to be oot here in neutral space. So we'll be keepin' them promises to him, Captain Naraan, if 'tis all the same to ye."

As she said the words, the three Starfleet vessels took up defensive positions around the small century-old craft- not pointed to contain it, but to defend it. While the little pilot made no threats, the positioning of her ships made it abundantly clear to all involved that the unspoken ending of her statement was 'if 'tis all the same to ye... unless ye want a fight on your hands'.

Raising an eyebrow, Captain Naraan smirked ever so slightly. It was clear that Captain Enalia Telvan's crew were as unique and direct as the woman herself. "Very well, Ensign. I would much rather discuss your data and theories than engage in a standoff over a situation that does not need to exist."

"And since this is, as you pointed out, an open channel. You may rest assured, Mister Garnak, that our primary goal is recovering our missing vessel, along with yours. If our interaction here can be of benefit to all parties, all the better. On that note, I will extend a welcome to come aboard with the assurance that you will be safe, and your vessel protected and untouched."

On the other end of the frequency, the Romulan man was quiet for a long moment before he replied, just not specifically to Captain Naraan. "Fiona, you have assured me that I shall be safe, and I trust you. I shall agree."

"See? Invited aboard, nae taken prisoner, free to return to yuir ship whenever ye like. We come in peace, aye?" Angling toward the Persephone, O'Dell sent the traffic control request to land first the Cherry Bomb, then the War Chicken, then the Silver Banshee. The shuttle bay could hold them all if their own Class 2 shuttle, the Type 6 shuttlecraft, and the Type 8 shuttlecraft were moved to Shuttlecraft Bay 2, the maintenance bay for all three craft.

"When this is all over, we'll raise a pint, ye and thee and the Captain there makes three. Cuz ye know wot?" O'Dell postulated to the Romulan tugboat pilot. "If I had to make a wager, somewhere on the other wide of the universe there, me own Cap'n is workin' with yuir fleetmates reet now ta git ivveryone home, sure as God made little green apples."

"I assume those are good things, Fiona. But perhaps when this is over, we may share that drink. Until then, I have secured my ship's controls for beaming," Garnak stated over the comm. 

From the bridge of the Persephone, Captain Naraan replied flatly, "Excellent. We are making accommodations in our main shuttlebay for your craft, Ensign O'Dell. Flight Control is sending you landing clearance now. We shall be beaming you aboard to the pad on the flight deck so I can welcome you both aboard personally. I shall meet you there. Naraan out."

As the channel closed, Captain Naraan stared at the screen a moment. "Well, that was... interesting."

"Innnnnteresting is a worrrd forr it, Captain..."

 

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