Dustoff

Posted on Thu Oct 25th, 2018 @ 12:36pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox
Edited on on Thu Oct 25th, 2018 @ 1:44pm

Mission: Hera v Hera
Location: Meroset 347, Hera's temple
Timeline: 2395, aftermath, Battle of Hera's World

For the fourteenth time, Rita Paris grabbed at the small of her back looking for the communicator she had left with Commodore Meowlith, and she realized just how much she missed it. Tapping her abundant bosom for a comm signal just wasn't the same somehow, though she had adapted. "Lieutenant Commander Paris to Hera, do you copy?"

=^= We read you loud and clear, Commander. =^= came the reply.

"Patch me through to Lieutenant Dox, please."

"Lieutenant Dox here." Dox replied. The Hera's new pilot was laying back on her bed in her quarters after the harrowing events of the day taking a moment to relax. Her uniform was still perfectly in place and she sat up to respond, calling to the room "Computer, lights to 75% please."

“Lieutenant Dox, this is Lieutenant Commander Paris. I’m still on the planet and I could use a dustoff. Do you think you could possibly fit it into your schedule to get a shuttle or a runabout and come pick me up, please?” Why the first officer couldn’t beam up like a normal person was not explained, but apparently she wanted shuttle service. The weariness in her voice was something new to Dox, as the pep and zest for life usually embodied by the LTCDR was conspicuously absent. She sounded beyond exhausted.

This shift in the Commander's tone immediately made Melanie concerned. She had only know Rita Paris for a few days, but Dox was beginning to get a feel for the usually effervescent First Officer and she hoped all was well, although this wasn't the moment to ask. Instead, Dox felt like this was he moment to move. "Aye, Commander. I'll make the necessary arrangements immediately and inform you of my ETA when I'm en route."

"Much appreciated, Miss Dox," came the reply before the channel closed.

Dox hopped up out of bed, taking the briefest of moments to make sure she was appropriately presentable for duty, tucking some loose strands of hair back and making her way out of her quarters to the corridor.

While Paris didn't express any over the urgency in her request, Dox felt it anyway. Perhaps it was left over adrenaline from the mission or just an uneasy feeling from the Commander's subdued tone, but Dox quickly made her way to the flight control office and filed a flight plan, securing all the necessary permissions to carry out the extraction.

The Selune and the Thor were still undergoing standard, post-mission diagnostics. They were the U.S.S Hera's most advanced Runabouts to be sure, but Dox had no problem flying whatever was available. Which is not to say that she wasn't just a little excited to find a Delta-Class Runabout available. She had only ever gotten to fly Delta-Class ships in simulations and they were among Starfleet's fastest, most maneuverable and adaptable small crafts. And they were designed with pilots in mind, with manual controls similar to what had been instituted at the helm of the Hera herself.

In the cockpit of the Runabout, Dox felt quite at home as the majority of her career in Starfleet was in shuttle missions much like this one. It was less than fifteen minutes of procedures and flight protocol from receiving the pick-up request, and Dox was on her way to the surface of the planet that had so recently been the site of a life or death mission against a Goddess. "Lieutenant Dox to Commander Paris. En route to your coordinates. ETA to touch down is 16 minutes."

It was a straight forward run to the planet, but Dox kept a sharp eye in her sensors in case there might still be some unforeseen threats still out there. The Runabout slid effortlessly into the atmosphere of the battle-scarred world below into a brilliant sunset. Feeling a momentary rush of excitement, Dox couldn't resist opening up the small ships engines and zig-zagging a bit through the clouds on the path to her destination which was directly ahead.

In spite of the visible signs of the armed conflict that the away teams had recently engaged with against the goddess Hera's forces, the city was still starkly beautiful as the vibrant pink light of the sunset reflected off of the marble structures below. As Dox approached the mountaintop temple where Rita Paris was waiting, she pulled a wide, counter-clockwise arc around it. Sensors were all well and good, but Melanie Dox had a lifetime of experience landing ships where they weren't always welcome in her childhood piloting smuggling ships and she preferred to make a visual scan of her surroundings before landing.

Completing an orbit of sorts around the perimeter of the temple, she brought the maneuverable craft in for a landing at the established coordinates, a mid-sized courtyard at the front of the temple just large and structurally sound enough to allow it. Deploying the landing struts, the Runabout set down gently with its hatch positioned toward Paris' position and its nose aimed at an escape trajectory just in case.

With one last look at the sensor to confirm that there was no immediate threats, Dox opened the Runabout Danu’s hatch and made her way from the cockpit to greet her XO.

Said executive officer looked to be a bit of a wreck. The gold MACO armor- a color that no EVA armor came in, yet there she was, wearing engineering gold despite being command track- was dented and scraped and battered, holed in more than one place. There were crusts on it that were likely dried blood, though it was uncertain just precisely whose. She had her left thumb hooked in her belt, which along with the mortar-crusted spot on her armor that appeared to have bled profusely at one point indicated she was probably doing her best to immobilize it without using a sling, so as not to appear to be injured.

The brisk military stride which she was known to exercise locomoting about the decks of the Hera was conspicuously absent, as the first officer was movjng slowly and deliberately. While the armor covered everything but her head currently, Dox suspected the commander was likely one ambulatory bruise given her gait and level of activity, but that million watt smile still lit up as the daredevil pilot greeted her department chief on the gangplank. Unlimbering the rather large an unwieldy assault rifle from her back, Paris ported it by the upper handle which doubled as a sight.

“Miss Dox, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Paris offered with some of her customary cheer. “How about help an old lady onboard and get her home, eh?”

Taken aback slightly at Paris' condition and feeling that her commander was probably worse off than she was trying to let show, Dox rushed down the ramp to offer whatever help she could. "Aye Commander." The lieutenant reached to take Paris' weapon and offered an arm. "If you need it."

Handing off the surprisingly heavy bulky rifle to her subordinate, Paris hauled herself by her right hand up the ramp and into the Delta Flyer alongside the junior officer, then turned to hit the button to close the hatch. Once it was sealed, her shoulders sagged and Paris looked as though she’d been run over by a Mugatu. “Just get me back onboard, Miss Dox. Then I just have to make it across the flight deck and down to sickbay without anyone realizing I can barely move, and I’ll be fine.”

Offering a lopsided grin as she slowly eased herself into the navigator’s chair, the gold-clad commander groaned as she did so. “Can’t let the troops see you falling apart. If you’re still upright and moving, they are vastly more confident overall. If Command shows vulnerability, it’s all over.” Raising her eyebrows at the junior officer, Paris sighed. “So you’ll have to pardon me my human weakness, Lieutenant, but it’s been one hell of a day.”

Understanding full well the weight of what the Executive Officer was talking about, and what it meant that she was allowing Dox to see the proverbial crack in her armor for a moment, the pilot quickly switched gears. "I wouldn't know what you mean, Commander. You look fine to me." Dox replied with a slight smile as she slid into the pilot’s seat, entering the return coordinates. "Course plotted and laid in."

Without waiting for any response, Dox engaged the engines and the Runabout lifted smoothly away from the temple platform and up towards the Hera's position. "Speed at maximum for atmospheric tolerances. We should be in board in a few minutes."

"Tut tut, Miss Dox," Rita Paris held up her left hand in caution, then grunted. Waving it off, she declared, "I assure you I am in no mortal peril. I have just had a very, very long day. Ease off the throttle, because first I want YOU to tell me about YOUR day. Report, Lieutenant. I'd like a departmental briefing on the battle, as you have firsthand knowledge of the situation." Settling back into the comfortable pilot's chairs of the Delta Flyer model, the pretty pilot's eyes flickered over the controls, because she couldn't help it- speed, velocity, vector and hazards called to her, and always would. Looking up, she caught the pilot composing herself, and settled in to wait for her to organize her thoughts. Paris had already indicated she was in no hurry, and she'd get that report.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied with a momentary twinge of confusion as she pulled back on the throttle of the Runabout. Still in the planet’s atmosphere, the ship slowed to a more leisurely pace as the fresh pilot adjusted the coordinates to extend their journeys flight time by a few minutes. She then looked down slightly and chewed a bit on her bottom lip trying to collect her thoughts as she had never had to report for an entire department before. It was an old nervous tic that she knew Paris would pick up and as such, she made no effort to conceal it as she collected her thoughts. Dox was beginning to learn that trying to mask her feelings from the observant First Officer was a waste of time at best and at worse, counterproductive towards building the kind of trust that was essential on a ship like the Hera.

"Flight Control departmental report." Dox cleared her throat slightly. "HERA systems reported at 95%, having sustained comparably minor damage to the forward shields while engaging with the enemy chariots in the asteroid belt. The Hera engaged in close combat with multiple pairs of assault chariots and was successfully able to destroy the attacking crafts taking only minor fire. No hull or system damage reported. No casualties reported during the engagements." Dox allowed herself the slightest of smiles as she though back on how well her first combat mission was as a pilot and her posture relaxed slightly. "We kept the paint on her, Commander."

The reaction from the pilot told Paris all she needed to know about how Dox felt about the mission. "I daresay that looks like genuine pride, Miss Dox. And well earned. I haven't had time to review the feeds, but according to the captain, you're a natural, cool under pressure and intuitive- everything you showed in your simulation run. In short, you are one hell of a pilot, Lieutenant."

Always uncomfortable with praise of any kind, Dox blushed a bit but allowed herself to smile. She did feel good about her performance on the bridge and was beginning to let herself feel that, which was still a fairly new sensation for her to explore. "Thank you, Commander." Dox turned to her First Officer for a moment. "And if I may say from a more personal level... The simulation did not do justice to her handling. I've never flown anything even close to the Hera."

Those bright blue eyes came alive at that. "She glides. I've never felt anything like it, but she just sliiiiides around, right? It’s like being in a controlled drift at all times when you're at impulse, and she moves almost intuitively. If I'd known I was going to end up in the future with a joystick and a throttle in my hand, I'dve gotten here sooner," Paris laughed, then looked a bit melancholy.

"Which brings us to my next point. Dox, there's no easy way to say this. I'm not a young woman. I'm a hundred and sixty-two years old, for phloog's sake. Plus the first officer doesn't get to sit on the bridge and pilot the starship. Nope, she's leading the away teams. Not a lot of bridge flight time involved in the first officer's duties." Tapping her forehead, Rita Paris offered a salute with her index finger. "Command, Miss Dox. Take note. You give up a lot to the big chairs."

After having read the personnel files of the senior staff upon coming on board, Dox was aware of the broad strokes of the first officer's misadventures through time. But there was something distinctly different hearing about it directly and Dox's eyes softened slightly at hearing her Commander's age as if hearing it from Paris' own mouth made it more real. She was at a loss as to how it was appropriate to respond as there was a lot to take in.

"I suppose... I can only imagine, Commander. I mean... I've read your personnel file, of course. I read the whole command crew's files just hoping to not forget anyone's names." Dox chuckled slightly. "But I can only imagine what all you've experienced. It's..." Dox stopped mid sentence as the Runabout broke out of the planets atmosphere into open space. The Hera began to come into view in the distance as the steadily growing shape of the Starship reflected the sunlight of the Meroset stars sunset across her pearlescent hull. Dox was taken aback at the sight. "Wow."

"There she is," Paris marveled at the sight of the starship, filled with that love that only pilots and captains feel for their starship warming in her heart. The anachronistic astronaut smiled, a warm yet simple smile that peeled away much of her fatigue and reminded Melanie more of the executive officer she knew. "You're going to take care of her from now on, Miss Dox. The captain and I have discussed it, and I'm promoting you to chief flight control officer. You've got the skills as a pilot, and you've responded well to command training. Yes, I know you don't know the paperwork- I'll train you, have no fear. And you will still have Ensign Gonadie as your assistant, who knows the job but doesn't want to lead, she just wants to fly."

"Ain't she a beauty, though. While you're thinking of what's appropriate to say in response to all that, let's take an external visual inspection after the battle to confirm any damage, shall we?" To her credit, Rita knew exactly how the lady lieutenant felt, because she'd been promoted thusly a few times in her career, and she knew that the young officer would need a moment to process. Thus why it was just the two of them, alone with the mighty starship who was their charge. Here was a safe space where Dox could have her reaction, whatever it might be, and the only audience would be Rita Paris, the 'Unlucky Lady' and the Hera herself.

There was a moment of shock as Melanie's stomach started bouncing around in her middle. Her mind raced with all the reasons she could imagine that this scenario didn't make sense to her. All the self-defeating thoughts popped up as Dox attempted to play mental whack-a-mole with them: I just got here! This is my first assignment on a Starship!? Ensign Gonadie DESIGNED the Hera's flight controls!??

But Dox put her self-doubt aside after a moment, realizing that she had let her jaw drop wide and she was gaping like an idiot. "Uh... pardon me... Yes. Aye, Commander." Dox shook her head like someone waking up from a dream and looked back up at the Hera, now looking large in the window of the Runabout as they approached at a mild, cruising speed. The beauty of the massive Nebula-class Starship snapped her attention back to where she was and what she was just ordered to do.

Bringing the Runabout to a virtual crawl in the void of space just below the rear of the ship that glistened in the light of the Meroset star like a black diamond against the stars, Dox felt emotion well up in her. This was her home now and she would need to shoulder the responsibility of steering her right and true. But what was anxiety moments ago bled away, replaced by awe and pride as she brought the small Delta-Class Runabout in close to the ventral side of the Hera's drive section.

“Yes, you are a junior officer. No, you have never run a department before. Yes, you will make mistakes. But as First officer it is my job to help you through that adjustment, and unsurprisingly I am intimately familiar with the procedures and policies.” Paris took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I wouldn’t hand over my department unless I thought you were ready, Lieutenant. I have that confidence in you, and so does the Captain. And yes, I know all of this because I’ve been in your shoes. When I was assigned chief helmsman on the Constitution, I was on cloud nine and filled with fear all at the same time.”

“Don’t be filled with fear. We’re here for you, you have a safety net and we expect a goof up or two, because you’re only… one person. New to the job, that's better.” Once again, Paris had to pursue a non-humancentric turn of phrase to apply to one of her old axioms. Out here, she was the only one who was ‘only human’, and that wasn’t an acceptable phrase or yardstick any longer unless she was referring to herself.

"Thank you, Commander. I... I really appreciate it. I will absolutely do my..." Then in mid response, Dox stopped in her tracks after processing Paris' last few comments. "Wait, THE Constitution? The prototype for the class?" She blurted out with a bit more excitement then she would have been comfortable with only a couple of days ago with her First Officer, but it was something of a fangirl moment where the passionate pilot came out.

“The one and only,” Paris reflected, happy that someone actually recognized her old billet, and could appreciate her love of the old heavy cruisers of her day. “288 meters long, 127 meters high, 190,000 metric tons fully loaded. Crew complement of 430, and she cruised at Warp Six, which by modern standards is around Warp 4 as I understand it. In 2260 I was signed on as helm chief, and I fought so hard to get that posting. Daddy didn’t want me to go, because I might get it in my head to enjoy exploring space and never come home to give him grandchildren,” Paris muttered. "Good news, Daddy, you were right."

“I never did get to serve at the helm on the Constitution, but I was… present… for most of her five year mission,” the ghost of the 23rd century glossed over the horror that she had endured as a living warp phantom after her first transporter accident on the Constitution. “I loved that old girl, warts and rattles and all. By the time I got back on a Constitution class it was the Exeter, which was refit as I came aboard, so I got to serve on both variants.”

“Stuff they don’t teach you in the history books?” offered the Constitution-Class expert, “You could feel the deckplates vibrating at warp. The faster we pushed her, the more that vibration would build up. Inertial Dampeners weren’t what they are now, and when you pushed her too hard the engineers would warn that she was gonna fly apart, because it was a very real possibility.”

"I've been on more than a few ships that felt like that. But nothing like the Constitution. Well, aside from holodeck simulations. I've been on simulations of almost every class Starship ever, but they never capture all the details... The feels. Every ship has a feel." Dox looked up at the ventral Hill of the Hera's engineering hull only a few meters above their Runabout. "That was the biggest difference between the sim and flying HER for real. The Hera. I CAN feel her engine. At the helm, I could feel her speed. Feel her pitch and yaw. It's subtle, but it's there. Like your own pulse, it's always there. Her heartbeat."

The Runabout Danu which Paris had nicknamed the 'Unlucky Lady' turned up under the massive saucer of the Hera and Dox pulled the maneuverable little craft up and around bringing her nose to nose with the Nebula-class Starship, far enough away that the ship filled the window in front of the two officers. "Holodecks don't do her justice either, Commander."

"Barely any scorching on the hull. Really well done, Dox. I skimmed the action report, but the proof is right there. She's damn near pristine."

"I'll miss getting the chance to fly her, but there are always simulations. And who knows, maybe next time I can man tactical for you. I love to fly, but I love starship weaponry more. Being a navigator was a breeze, but having tactical at my command made starship battles personal. Shields and weaponry." Paris paused, cocked her head, then frowned a bit. "So if we can modulate the shields we can phase the phasers through them? As fast as they cycle- oh, and we can open pinpoints in the shields now. The future, Miz Dox, is pretty spectacular."

The Runabout pulled up and over the Hera's dorsal pod as Dox thought a bit more deeply about what Paris had just said about the future. Of course, from the perspective of someone born over a century ago this was the future. A time one would never have expected to live to see. But sometimes the future is more than that. It can also be an idea or an ideal worth reaching for or escaping to, she thought.

Pushing forward on the Danu's manual stick, Dox dipped her nose down across the rear of the ship as they cleared the end of the pod, pulling the Runabout well past the aft before swinging the small craft back around. "Growing up..." Dox looked toward her new First Officer, "Growing up, I always wanted to live in the future. I wanted to be anywhere but where I was, Commander." Then she looked back at the magnificent ship she now called home. "But now. Now I think I'm ready for now, if that makes any sense."

"It very much does, Miss Dox. Growing up, I couldn't wait for the future either- when I could get out from under the shadow of my father and chart my own course, and not waste three years in Ballet or learning needlepoint or whatever of a dozen anachronisms my dear old dad felt a proper young woman should learn. Instead to get out here, and see sights like this..." As the small craft orbited the Hera, so too was she orbiting the planet. As they slid to the night side of the planet, the Hera lit up with violet lights, looking more like a deep sea creature than a starship, yet no less breathtaking.

"It does feel a bit like we've arrived, eh Dox?" Paris smiled contentedly, then, she raised a finger and wagged it. "For the record, when we're off duty or alone, you can call me Rita. It's not a breach of protocol if I give you permission. Yes, it is a familiarity, no, I know you won't abuse it, and frankly, amongst the senior staff it's best we come to more of such a relationship. Because while I will still mentor you and guide you just like I do any of the crew, you don't need to have that fear of the superior officer thing so popular amongst the junior officers and always be standing on ceremony. With a little luck, we're going to be friends, Miss Dox, and friends can give one another permission to use less formal titles and forms of address."

Blushing slightly, Dox replied with a slight chuckle. "Not calling you Commander might be the trickiest thing for me to learn. Piloting is easy compared to socializing sometimes." Dox punched in the landing coordinates while she talked. "But... I hope to get there too. So, can we park this girl so I can get you to sickbay?" Dox smiled with a tight lipped expression allowing her anxiety to show through unguarded. "I am kind of stressing out a little about that. I'm a bit of a worry wart in that way. But I will endeavour to not let that show on duty or around anyone else."


“No pressure, Miss Dox. It’s a permission thing, not an order thing. And you get there in your own time.” For her part, Rita didn’t use the young lieutenant’s first name either—after all, while he had offered hers, Dox had not extended the same courtesy, most likely because it hadn’t occurred to her and this was unfamiliar territory. Baby steps Rita reminded herself. Keep it to a few lessons at a time of you want them to grow confident. With that thought, Paris shifted in her seat, winced in obvious pain and sagged a bit against the chair. “Yes, I believe you’re right, Lieutenant. I need to be able to march off this runabout and look as though I’ve spent the day walking in the park, and I don’t have much get up and go left in me. So bringing her home is likely the best of plans, as much as I enjoy moments like this.”

Reaching out to touch the viewport, Paris smiled, a small piper’s smile. “I left behind the world I knew, quite accidentally, of course. It is a brave new world in which I have found myself, full of contradictions and wonders and terrors.” Turning back to catch the eye of the junior officer, the chrononaut commander offered what wisdom she had learned. “We’re here to explore, and that hasn’t changed. We might get some dirty missions that call for more sacrifice than most, but Command sends us in because we can do it. But our purpose out here is to explore… and in doing so, we usually find ourselves.”

“I look forward to being there as you find yourself, Lieutenant Junior Grade Melanie Dox.”

With an authentic smile that she didn't have to force, Dox thought for a moment and felt like she had the most appropriate response. "Thank you. And I appreciate the helping hand... Rita." Immediately, her face crunched up with a slightly awkward smirk. "Yeah, that will take getting used to."

“In your own time, Miss Dox,” Paris replied expansively. “Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin, eh?”

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied, then turned her attention to the controls of the Runabout. "Lieutenant Dox to Hera. Runabout Danu requesting permission to land."

After a brief pause, the com system of the Runabout chirped gently and a friendly voice responded. "Permission Granted, Delta. Proceed to shuttle bay 2."

Turning slightly to Paris, Dox sat up just a little straighter with a light smile and a sense of what she could only describe as comfort. "Let's bring her home."

 

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