Keys To The Office

Posted on Mon Oct 29th, 2018 @ 9:40pm by Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Lieutenant Mona Gonadie

Mission: Hera v Hera
Location: USS Hera, Deck 4, Flight Control Operations
Timeline: 2395

A handy element of being a time and dimension traveling adventuress was that clutter was not something one tended to accumulate. As she looked over the deck she'd been using in the Chief Flight Control office, Lieutenant Commander Rita Paris realized that aside from a sprawl of PaDDs and flimsies that tended to infest any space that she worked, the only personal ornamentation she had to mark that she'd been here was a 28 cm representation of the USS Exeter, Constitution refit that sat on a flight base that kept it magnetically hovering 10 cm above the desk as if in flight. An little piece of history that the living anachronism liked to see, to remind her of where she'd come from.

Having summoned the colorfully-plumed Mona Gonadie and the recently promoted Chief of Flight Control, Rita Paris busied herself straightening up the desk, filling out a little bit of paperwork before she stopped herself. After all, she had to instruct how it was done now, not do it herself. Taking the few minutes she'd arrived early, she gazed out the floor to ceiling transparent aluminum viewports to take in the sight and sigh. She had loved this office, with its view of the enormous flight deck, and she would have been quite content to simply be the ship's hotshot pilot moving forward. managing the flight crew, flying missions here and there and piloting a starship so mighty as to have been undreamt of in her day.

But like her post on the USS Exeter, time had moved on, and the universe had decided that the curvaceous commander was needed elsewhere and she was now bound to other duties and responsibilities. Now she was the First, which she had been briefly once before for Sonak, now for Telvan. Her duty was now to run the ship for the Captain, to insure that the reports were filed and that the senior staff were handling their departments. All of that could be done while managing flight control as well, but that wasn't fair to the officers beneath her. Rita had no reason to squat on the position and refuse to give it up. Instead it was time to make way for the next generation, and for her to teach and foster them along.

Which didn't mean that she didn't have regrets, nor that she wasn't staring out at the flight desk wistfully when the next generation arrived to report in.

The door to the corridor was open when Melanie Dox arrived. She had been ready for her appointment with the First Officer a good five minutes early and took the turbolift that would drop her off as far from the Flight Control office on Deck 4 as possible so as to give her a few moments to walk off some of the anxiety that was bubbling in her stomach. She had been hoping for the door to be closed for a last second to steel herself but was as ready as she was ever going to be. "Lieutenant Dox, reporting as ordered."

"Come in Lieutenant," Paris responded without turning away from the view. "How are those first morning jitters treating you?" The question might have been asked with sarcasm or a teasing air, but Dox had spent enough time around the curvaceous commander to know that wasn't the first officer's modus operandi. Instead, she seemed to understand the internal process of the anxious astronaut, and not only made allowance for it but addressed it directly. Which she did without recrimination nor condemnation, as if she understood it all too well from personal experience.

The knot in Dox's stomach loosened up just a bit at the Commander's comment. "About as well as I expected, Commander. Which is to say terribly, I suppose." Dox replied with just a touch of casualness she felt was appropriate as a response. After a few days serving on the Hera, the Junior Lieutenant was feeling more comfortable around Rita Paris then she has with almost anyone she had met in her time in Starfleet. But the weight of the responsibility she was about to be given was still giving her significant stress. After all, the Hera was her first assignment on a Starship and she was being promoted to the Chief Flight Control Officer after her first mission.

"Well, would it make you feel better if I yelled at you or threatened to take away the promotion if you so much as screw up even a tiny bit? You make me curious what life at the Academy is like in the future, Dox," Paris mused as she turned around to take in the sight of the young officer. Uniform clean and pressed, rank pips aligned, hair controlled, eyes darting about a bit as if looking for danger at every turn... yup, she was ready for her first day.

"Have a seat, chief. We'll go over some of the basics life filling out duty roster, filing revised duty rosters and what to do when someone doesn't show up for their shift..." With that, Paris launched into a whirlwind of procedures and programs and possibilities that looked like they ran a whole lot easier from the outside.

That's when Ensign Gonadie made her entrance. "Hey boss ladies! I mean... Ensign Gonadie reports as ordered!" Going from her usual casualness to the stiff military stance and a salute, the colorful woman couldn't help but burst into a chirping giggle. "Ok, seriously, congrats, Lieutenant. I ran this department for far too long and the captain promised me that she'd get someone awesome to run the show as soon as she could." Spreading her arms to encompass the two other women in the room, she beamed brightly. "And lo, she has brought me two lovelies so that I may continue my research and development and become the best flyer in not only the history of my race, but of the galaxy."

The momentary distraction absolutely thrilled Melanie, who welcomed the break that the Miradonian ensign offered with her exuberant entrance, was beginning to feel as if she were trying to absorb all of the information in the Galaxy. She also felt a wave of relief at the brilliantly colored ensigns comments but was still anxious and responded as such. "Good morning, I'm glad to see you. I've been..." Dox trailed off, standing up to greet Gonadie.

Slipping slightly out of her comfort zone, which was generally running on high guard against making embarrassing breaches in Starfleet protocol, Dox turned to the striking First Officer. "I've been hoping to... I'm... Uh... My apologies. Commander, may I..." Dox stumbled over her words, feeling like asking for permission to speak freely was far to formal considering how lightly and casually Ensign Gonadie had entered without any immediate reprimands. She looked at Paris as she spoke, hoping that the First Officer got the gist of what she was stumbling over. "I have something that's been... bothering... no... worrying me." She gestured at the room around them. "More than just trying to learn all of this."

A slight frown crossed the lips of the Lieutenant Commander, and she spoke up to the overhead. "Computer, please secure the hatches and soundproof the room. No one gets in on my authorization, Paris, Rita, LTCDR, 8675309."

The doors slid shut and sealed with a hiss, and the computer chirruped.

=^= Room sealed and soundproofed, Commander. =^=

"Thank you computer. All right, Miss Dox. It's just the three of us in here." When Paris spoke, she did so calmly and with encouragement in her tone. "Permission to speak freely, and it goes no further than this room if that's what you wish. So out with it- what's on your mind?"

"Um... thank you." Dox turned to look at the closed door then back to the two officers. "It's just that... I am... I'm extremely proud for this opportunity. I'm proud and nervous and excited all at the second time. I still can barely believe it, really. "Her attention focused momentarily towards Paris as she spoke then back again towards Gonadie. "But... I've been... I mean. This position." Melanie realized she was rambling and took a moment to compose herself. "I'm proud to take this position. I'm honored. But I don't want to advance at you expense, Ensign Gonadie. I don't want to advance at anyone's expense. If you are really good with this, then I'm super relieved, but I didn't want to let this go unsaid. It was important to me" Dox turned to Paris. "Thank you, Commander. I really am excited by all of this. But... I'm more excited for everything else this ship offers... like maybe actually being friends with those with whom I serve and I didn't want that threatened is all."

Nodding, Paris had previously had similar concerns about Mona Gonadie, and now it seemed the ensign was destined to explain her choice of a career path once again. "Sounds like your cue, Ensign Gonadie."

Mona just shook her head and walked up to Dox, her grin fading. Resting one hand on the other woman's shoulder, the brightly plumed Miradonian looked her in the eye. "I'll teach you anything you need to know and fly anything you need to be flown, but understand one thing. I'm in Starfleet to become a legendary flyer. Not a leader. To do that, there are certain things I need to do, and the higher I climb in the ranks and the longer I'm a department head, the longer that will take. You take that chair, you make it yours, and I'll support you in any way that you need as your friend and as your assistant, ok? I already sat in that position for a few years and I have to make up for lost time as it is."

"I'm glad to hear, thank you." Dox smiled with a slight embarrassed twinge. The nerves in her stomach lightened as her concerns were unfounded and she was grateful for the opportunity to express them. "And thank you, Commander. I appreciate it." The relieved pilot sat back down, not wanting her moment to completely derail the meeting.

"I already had this talk, but I figured you needed to hear it directly from our resident flight engineer," the fulsome first officer explained. Then she gestured expansively to the room. "So, we're still off the record- complain, tell us how unfair it is that there must be more qualified officers. Tell us how you don't deserve the job and how terrified you are that you're going to screw up and let everybody down and be an embarrassment. Get it all out in here while you have the chance, so afterward you can hold you head up and act like you belong in this job."

"It'll take a while to feel like it, but you need to look like it from day one. Confidence, Miss Dox. Fake it til you make it." While it wasn't the most conventional of military career advice, the senior officer understood the junior officer reasonably well, because she had been there herself to some degree. While very different women, they shared some neurosis and baggage, which her time with Sonak and with Starfleet Psych had helped Rita put into perspective. Now she turned that experience toward mentoring others, a function of the post she filled.

Guiding the next generation, teaching them the ways of Starfleet from a bygone age.


"All of that and more, Commander." Dox replied. "I have no idea what I'm doing. Seriously. But... but if you all... if the Captain... thinks I'm up for it, I'm going to trust you, and trust that my own doubts are just that. Doubts. And I will be doing everything I can to get up to speed and do the best job I can, here."

“A journey of a thousand miles beings with a single step, Miss Dox. That,” the buxom bombardier pointed out, “was the first step- accepting the responsibility, admitting that you have doubts but committing to do the best job that you can under the circumstance. We’ve got you, Lieutenant- ask your questions when you have them, and you will have many. Seek guidance when you need it, because no one expects to you to be a bastion of self-sufficiency. Come complain about it when it is too much, either to your superior or your subordinate, both of whom have been there and genuinely understand.”

“That ought to make the new scary job a little easier, eh?” Paris offered a warm smile that she hoped was encouraging. Dox still wasn’t entirely sure about her, and Rita understood that and didn’t take it personally. Superior officers who took an interest in junior officers were often maneuvering their own careers, working to get out from under a duty before it reflected poorly on them, throwing the junior officer under the shuttle, as it were. It happened in her day, and she was sure that hadn’t changed a bit. But Dox was a great officer in the making, and Rita Paris had no trouble taking her time to earn the introverted officer’s trust. If one’s motives were pure one could afford to wait for the other party to come around, and while not naturally patient, Rita was willing to play the long game with the brilliantly capable pilot in whom she was investing her time.

"Thanks, Commander. You can be sure I'll be asking for help and asking questions." Dox smiled, letting out some of the anxiety over this new set of responsibilities. She had always had a hard time learning to trust people but found herself letting her guard down more and more around her new First Officer and was getting more comfortable with the idea. She looked around the office, taking it all in. "Both of you, I'm sure. It's good to know you'll have my back while I figure this all out." She looked down momentarily at the badge on her chest that suddenly seemed to mean more then it had just a few days ago, still smiling. "I guess this is what belonging to something bigger is really about. They talked about it a lot at the academy, but I never really saw it for myself until coming Here."

"Indeed, Miss Dox, indeed. As for me," Paris turned to take in the view and sighed. "I'll have to find myself a new office, it seems. But I certainly won't find one with this view. I think that's my biggest regret of ceding the position to you... well, that and getting to pilot the big girl." Paris rested a hand on the bulkhead and patted it fondly. "But that's not my destiny- it's yours. So it falls to me to help you meet it."

"The first officer's office on deck two has a nice view. It's a bit bigger and has a half lounge, too. I think the captain kind of got screwed in the last refit - her office is the only one that remained a closet. I mean, she barely has a toilet in there, let alone room for that mini-couch. I have no idea how she stands it. It's probably why she keeps the lights dim." Gonadie was off on a tangent, but caught herself. "But I'm sure we'll all do wonderfully. I'll have my research, Dox has a new department and responsibilities, and you have a whole ship to play with." With a wide smile, Mona nodded happily.

"I really hope my new responsibilities mean I get to check out that research, Ensign!" Dox said somewhat excitedly. "Considering how amazing those flight controls are, I can't wait to see what you come up with next."

"You'll be seeing my new flight suit soon, I think. I should have it ready for live trials in a few weeks." Mona was practically beaming at this point. "Speaking of suits, have you two caught sight of the new uniforms they're supposed to be rolling out in the next year or so? The Commodore was wearing it already. Commander, can you do some rumor control on that?"

“Well, if what the Commodore was modeling is the next generation of uniforms, I have to say I agree with the design,” Paris offered with considerable enthusiasm. “They are a lot closer to what they were back in my day, with full bold color up top and the black skirt or slacks below. It looks less sinister, less… warhawk. More like we came to be seen because we came to help. That’s why I still wear my old uniform, between us pilots. I just couldn’t wrap myself head to toe in black and feel like I was Starfleet, you know? Better to look like I just fell out of the Guardian than to sell out like that. But it looks like for once, I might be ahead of my time, given how the new uniforms look. Assuming what the Commodore was wearing was the next edition…”

Having not seen the Commodore or the uniform in question, Dox instead got stuck on one of her XO's other comments. "The Guardian? I know I should know this. I remember... remembering something from the academy but I'm drawing a total blank."

“Ahhhh,” Paris balked, realizing she was likely letting slip classified information that she knew about, but was likely not common knowledge for a very good reason. “Nothing to worry about, Lieutenant. If it becomes relevant someday I’ll be happy to tell what I know, but I strongly suspect the subject is classified, and I should know better than to run my mouth about it.” For once in Lieutenant Junior Grade Dox’s experience, Paris not only deflected the answer but looked chagrined as she had made a personal mistake that she found onerous.

It was a humanizing moment that gave Dox a little comfort, similar to their interaction on the Runabout earlier. That the first officer allowed her to see that humanity meant a lot to Melanie, though she didn't want to draw attention to that as they were in mixed company and, as was her way, she was bearing just a twinge of embarrassment for prompting the moment with her question. "Aye, Commander." Dox then turned to Mona to change the subject back. "Well, now I want to see this uniform. I can't help but agree with the Commander... I would not object to more color in our uniforms."

Mona grinned, getting an idea. "Computer, we'd like to see holographic life-size renders of the uniform like the one Commodore Meowlith is wearing modeled for women in the standard three colors please." With a chirrup and a few seconds to process the request, the computer complied, generating three static displays of the uniform, boots and all, in the middle of the office.

The computer then began to list off a bit of info about them. "These uniforms are currently in the planning stages and are being tested by select members of the admiralty. Design harkens back to the formal red uniform used in the late twenty third century and is meant to usher in an age of more modern exploration and diplomacy while attempting not to overload the senses of current Federation member species. Though some fabric color inconsistency and variability issues have arisen during testing, these have been almost overcome with more rigorous calibration of clothing replication techniques."

Mona blinked a few times appreciatively at the new uniforms. "So much nicer than these christmas trees we wear now..."

“Hmf. Well, they do seem to still offer the skirt option, so I might just update my uniform after all, if these go through,” Paris admitted, circling around the holographic representations. “Although I’d have to give up on gold and settle in with red. But, times change… at least blonde looks good in red,” she admitted. “How about you, Dox? Thoughts? The hatch is still sealed and you are still off the record until I unseal it…

"I agree, you would look good in red." Dox replied, feeling comfortable enough to allow a slight joke to slip out. "And I think... yeah, no. I would not even be close to pulling off a skirt. But all kidding aside, I like them. At least if the lights on the bridge are dim it won't look like the ship is being crewed by floating heads."

"You people and your limited vision range..." Mona shook her head as she walked around the new uniforms. "Computer, please dim the lights to fifty percent in the normal sentient visible spectrums and overlay the Miradonian visible range over the current uniform so that others can see it similarly."

"Processing," replied the computer, followed by a series of chirrups and the lights dimming. A few more chirrups and the holographics finally kicked in, a swirl of bright red and purple replacing the black of the uniforms on Dox and Mona.

"This is what about three percent of the Federation see." Mona waved at the new uniforms. "Even in holographics, but these new uniforms are severely toned down, which I really like."

"Wow." Dox looked down at the projected colors all around her and on her own uniform. "This is... beautiful." Then a thought rushed across her mind and her face lit up. "Is this... what does SPACE look like to you?"

"So beautiful that we invented space travel before the parachute," Mona replied, grinning knowingly. That was apparently a bragging point for her race that impressed everyone she had ever met.

And Melanie Dox was no exception. Her mind was racing looking at the projected colors and she had a thousand questions but she felt like she was letting herself wander too far from why she was there that morning in her excitement. "It's amazing and I'd love if I could ask you some questions about all this later, Ensign Gonadie. I've got some... thoughts." Then Dox turned back towards Paris. "But I don't want to hold up anything any further."

“Computer, unseal the hatches on this office. Authorization Paris, R, LTCDR 8675309,” the old-school officer called to the overhead before fixing Dox with one of those smiles that reminded you that Rita Paris could have been a model had she not chosen Starfleet as a career. “You aren’t holding anything up, Miss Dox- if anything, it sounds like you two should spend some time together, getting to know one another, and sharing your enthusiasms without the authority figure hovering about. You have the basics, you have a very able assistant to ask any and all questions that may come to mind, and you know where to reach the old chief should you need help beyond any of that. Who will welcome all queries, and not assume that a question indicates incompetence. So with that said,” Paris rose from her seat, smoothed out her skirt and gathered up her omnipresent PaDD.

“I’ve places to go and people to be. So ladies, I leave you Flight Control. Make me proud, which I say only because I know without a doubt that you will do just that.” Paris paused to take one last, longing look out at the flight deck, her face betraying an expression of the heart, that was a clear moment of giving up one dream to achieve another. With a small sigh, the astronaut of another age turned back to the junior officers, a good-natured smile settling onto her face that fooled neither of them. Then with a nod, the curvaceous commander exited the flight control office, never looking back.

With that, the tone of the room shifted to a more somber one, at least for Melanie Dox, who now felt the weight of her new responsibilities. The new department chief looked at Mona and then to the desk. "I... Guess that's... mine n..."

Then Dox noticed it. The small model of the U.S.S. Exeter still on the desk. Rita Paris' former ship from another era. "I... I'll bring that to her new office later." Dox felt more emotional then she thought she would but immediately thought that it wasn't good to let that show. Fake it until you make it was what Paris told her, and this seemed a good enough point to start. "The duty roster for the day is already set. And day to day, that really doesn't change all that much but i'll need to review the personnel in the flight crew... See who should be where and when."

Then, Dox looked up to Ensign Gonadie. "I'm on deck myself for helm duty at oh two hundred hours, which means I have a little time to follow Commander Paris' advice and indulge my interests if you don't mind." Dox smiled at Ensign Gonadie. "I would absolutely love to see what you're working on."

Grinning and sliding onto the lounge couch, Mona couldn't help herself. "Computer, clear current holographics, reset lighting, and bring up the current data on my flight suit project..."