Hera Rules Karaoke

Posted on Tue Nov 20th, 2018 @ 3:21pm by Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Commander Rita Paris & Lieutenant Samuel Clemens XV & Lieutenant Asa Dael & Petty Officer 2nd Class Ila Dedjoy

Mission: Escaped Pantheons
Location: USS Hera, Deck 10, Ten-Forward
Timeline: 2395, en route to the Galactic Core

Perhaps she should have been thinking about the mission ahead of them. After all, the U.S.S HERA was scheduled to rendezvous with a pantheon of Norse Gods and there were a universe of challenges ahead of her, including having to figure out how to fly the ship into some sort of chaotic energy ribbon. But at this exact moment, the only challenge Lt. Junior Grade Melanie Dox could focus on was the mirror in front of her.

She stared into it at her reflection, wearing the brand new uniforms that she'd learned of earlier in the day. Compared to the mostly black and grey uniform she had worn for her entire career in Starfleet, this was a stark contrast. The tunic was a solid sea of command red that emphasized every aspect of her body that she was uncomfortable with. Thank goodness it still came with pants, as she couldn't even IMAGINE having to wear the skirt versions in which Commander Paris and Ensign Gonadie were so comfortable.

Looking down at the bulge of her thick belly sticking out, Melanie sighed. But this was the new regulation uniform for the senior staff, and as Chief Flight Control Officer, that included her.

But she WAS a department Chief, and needed to be seen. So tonight was a good opportunity to try her new uniform out before her duty shift, tomorrow. She hoped to try and shake off her nerves and get over her issues. Taking a deep breath, she muttered under her breath in the Romulan tongue she was raised with, telling herself to relax. "Heieu."

Feeling as calm as she figured she was going to be, Melanie stepped out of her spacious, but largely empty officer's quarters and walked a little more briskly than normal to the turbolift. After a brief wait, the doors to the turbolift hissed open and she walked in and the doors closed behind her. "Deck ten, please."

In what felt like no time, Melanie found herself outside the doors to Ten-Forward. If she was going to go anywhere, it might as well be there. She hadn't eaten dinner yet and she had to go somewhere while she had the nerve. Straightening the sea of red that was her new uniform, she stepped in. And, of course, the room was fairly busy and since the uniform was currently only authorized for the key crew members, she was the only person there wearing it that she could see, though she didn't look that long at the room.

Stepping to the bar, Melanie flagged a bartender who was busy at the other end and waited awkwardly.

"Lieutenant Dox, I presume?" Ila Dedjoy sidled up to to the bar next to Dox and offered a handshake, also in the pants version of the new uniform. "I see you're in the sea of red as well. I'm Crewman Dedjoy, the Captain's Yeoman. I don't think we've actually met but I've handled most of your documents."

"Uh... Good evening." Dox responded a bit hesitantly at first, having been slightly startled by the appearance of the Yeoman. "Sorry, my mind was wandering. Yeoman... Dedjoy, you said? Hi. Um... Hello. Pleased to meet you." Dox met the offered handshake, getting her bearings back.

"It's good to meet you as well." Ila nodded as she tugged down on the jacket of the new uniform. "Sorry for approaching you like this, but as we're both wearing the new uniform, I felt it best if we stuck together and maybe get to know each other. The captain insisted that I start wearing it the same time she did."

Relaxing slightly, Dox smiled lightly. "Ugh, I'm glad you did. I thought I was the only person in the room wearing it. As if I don't stick out enough." She laughed slightly awkwardly.

Their smile brightened when they saw Melanie Dox at the bar. And was that…..Lifejoy? Deadsmite? No, no, silly. Deadjoy. That’s right, the Captain’s Yeoman. Ila somewhat intimidated Asa with her quick wit, adept mannerisms and an uncanny ability to access hidden information. Nonetheless, no better way to get past the discomfort than getting to know her.

Dael took a seat on the other side of Ila and requested a honey ginger tea from the server. Warm beverage in hands, they greeted their two companions. “Heya! Looking good Dox! How you two doing tonight?”

"Oh, hello Doctor." Melaine turned her head sharply as Asa called out to the stout pilot at the bar. She smiled broadly, genuinely liking the Doctor in their few meetings so far. Distracted by the doctor's entrance and Yeoman Dedjoy, Melanie was startled as the bartender tapped her on the shoulder. "What can I get you, Lieutenant?"

"Huh? Oh... Um... I don't..." Dox had completely blanked in the moment, trying to process everything in the busy room. Leaning forward awkwardly and smiling, she asked, "Uh... Doctor Dael. What should I get? What are you having Yeoman Dedjoy?"

A well-modulated voice somehow carried clearly over the good-natured din of the half-deck-sized lounge.

"Y'all evah heah of a Mint Julep?" the man in the distance called out. He was sitting in what passed for a corner in the classically-rounded locale, sipping on a tall, wide-mouthed glass, with a sprig of some leafy plant, perched on the rim, and more of the same, under the ice layer, all surrounded by an amber liquid.

The colorful Intel Chief grinned, and added, "...not ta be too foahwhud, mind."

Turning sharply toward the man in the corner, Melanie arched an eyebrow. She recognized Lieutenant Clemens from the lunch debriefing but couldn't remember his name for the life of her. "Um... I... have no idea what that is."

Dedjoy glanced over at the Intel Chief and nodded before looking back to the barkeep. "Tuna juice and rice wine on ice for me, please. Lieutenant Dox, I happen to keep stock of most inventories on board, and I believe they have a small supply of Romulan Ale, if you have an interest in it."

"Seriously?" Dox perked up at that prospect but was hesitant as it meant that Yeoman Dedjoy had done homework on her heritage. It wasn't in any way a secret, but it wasn't something she liked to project. But the one lesson that kept popping up in her time of the Hera was that being herself was usually the way to go. And so far, the harsh judgement that was common during her time in the Academy for being part Romulan was nowhere to be found on the Hera.

"That actually sounds quite nice..." Dox smiled awkwardly as she blushed her usually deep tan shade. "Thank you."

Dedjoy let out a sigh as she took her drink. "Thank goodness. I had assumed, based on your records... I process them all for the captain, and I sometimes get ahead of myself..." Now it was her turn to look a bit nervous. "Should we join Lieutenant Clemens?" She added, looking between Dox and Dael.

"It's fine, really." Dox paused, uncertain at first how open she wanted to be and decided to throw her anxiety out of a proverbial airlock. "It's not something about myself I'm always comfortable advertising. My... heritage. It's not generally... well received in Starfleet." She was still blushing as she nervously rubbed the top of an ear. "But yeah, we can go over."

Then Dox turned back to the bartender, still waiting patiently. "So, Yeoman Dedjoy says we have a supply if Romulan Ale. That sounds excellent, please." Without a moment of hesitation, the bartender replied with a smile. "Very good, Lieutenant. I'll bring it to your table."

"Most Illarans are called creepy-doll-face or worse so I can understand your discretion." Ila muttered as she headed over with Dox.

"What?!" Dox turned toward Dedjoy with her face scrunched into a shocked and a little angry face. "That's absolutely horrible." At the table Chief Clemens was occupying, she picked the seat closest to the Window as she liked being able to see open space whenever possible. Then she waited for the others to come over.

Asa followed the group to the table and took their seat Riker style from behind. They were still sipping tea, but their eyes moved around the room to check and see who was there. If the others had not known better, Asa was acting even more squirrely than usual. "Eh, everyone just assumes El-Aurians are old. Like, we don't emerge from the womb at age 400, ya know?"

"Seems like the Galaxy is filled with assumptions, sometimes," Melanie chuckled slightly.

With everyone settled in their seats at Clemens's table, the bartender brought Melanie her drink. The young pilot gave the pale blue liquid a light sniff then took a sip. Her eyes opened a little wider as she was pleasantly surprised. "Oh... I was thinking this..." She stammered, as was her habit. "This is NOT synthahol." She shot a look of inquisitiveness at Yeoman Dedjoy as she took a larger sip of the drink, letting it sit in her mouth for a moment. "This is good. This is... do you know? It's richer then not. I'm thinking... 2370's... 74? Not cut at all."

Looking down at her drink, she found herself momentarily lost in memories. "Before the embargo was lifted, most dealers mixed their supply with other liquors. 10% filtered Saurian Brandy, sometimes Vodka or even Aldebaran whisky. It stretched the supply out and was largely undetectable to most customers. Especially those that liked the idea of drinking something 'forbidden' and didn't really know good Romulan Ale anyway." Melanie realized she was going on and paused. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"Ramble away," Asa chirped happily.

"So, Lieutenant Clemens, what's your favorite type of music? I'm guessing you enjoy Bluegrass by the accent- or am I generalizing?" the doctor inquired cheerfully.

By this time, Clemens had ordered some finger foods for the table, and was happily stuffing his face with cheddar poppers, baked pretzels, beer cheese, and other even less healthy options. "Why, sure, ah do. There's sumpthin' magical 'bout th' way those boys 'n girls can make those boxes sing, with flyin' fingers." There was something different about him, tonight. He was somehow easier to understand.

As part of her rounds, in the evening Rita Paris liked to take a pass through the lounge. After all, back in her day a forward observation deck was a nice place to come and unwind if you wanted to see the stars slide by, and there was sometimes even a bar of sorts set up onboard, such as the 'Admiral's Lounge' on the USS Farragut. But there had been nothing like this back in her day, and it pleased her immensely that Starfleet had made it a policy that there should be an off-duty lounge for officers and enlisted alike to come together and mingle in a less brightly lit area with white noise generation that lent itself to relaxation and conversation. Internally she still kicked herself for never having thought of it, but in the modern day, it was a part of her evening rounds- popping in and checking on the crew at play, insuring that all was well on the mighty starship.

Spotting a collection of the senior officers, there was an instinct to join them. As an authority figure, she made many on board uncomfortable- when she approached, conversations quieted and people began to look nervous, thinking they might be in trouble. The conversation she'd had with the captain about it was partially observation and speculation, and partially her own experience. But the senior officers were mostly past that now- she had worked hard to develop relationships with them as peers, as shipmates who worked together for the common good of the crew and Starfleet.

Thus Paris uncharacteristically debated joining them for a moment, or just letting them have their fun without 'The Old Lady' about.

Doc Dael had just finished their tea and a plan was brewing in the young physicians mind. A plan to....misbehave? No, not that.....more like just really cut lose. The crew had been through an ordeal, and more was to come. No reason not to eat, drink and be merry this evening.

Seeing Rita enter 10 Forward cemented the plan in their mind.

Perfect. , they thought to themself, If I can recruit her, this is gonna work!!

Asa stood up and walked over to Rita, greeting her lurking inside the door saying, "Commander Paris! Great to see you! Hey, um, got a sec to collude? I... um, I have an idea to get everyone in here smiling... if you are game."

It seemed her debate over whether or not to join and socialize was overridden by the exuberance of the starship's chief medical officer. A smile settled on her face as Rita Paris clasped her hands behind her back, crossing the lounge to stand beside the table where the section chiefs had gathered. Striking a pose, one hand on her hip and the other moving as she spoke, Commander Paris nodded to all at the table, then focused her attention on the excited young El-Aurian.

"Evening, all. Doctor, positive crew morale is certainly something that I strive for daily. What did you have in mind, and how can I help?" There was an edge of humor to the cheerful commander's tone, for while what she was saying sounded official, her body language and inflection made it clear that this was light-hearted, as was the norm for the Hera's first officer.

With that, Asa's face light up with a megawatt smile and a look of pure delight appeared on their face. The doctor leaned over and whispered something in Paris's ear, too low for the rest of the group to hear. After receiving a nod of acknowledgement, they practically skipped over to the bar and exchanged a few words with the serving staff.

The bartender on duty was a grizzled looking older human man, but when he heard what Asa was hoping for he guffawed out a loud laugh and was heard by all to say "Perfect medicine, Doc. Count us in." With a few quick movements, the 10-Forward crew had cleared a couple of tables to the back of the room.

Looking like a goofy giraffe, Dael stood in the middle of the now emptied area of the room. "Computer, please activate program Dael 1."

With that said, the lights around the room dimmed, with a spotlight shining where Asa was standing. The doctors garb was now obfuscated by a holo-disguise that was somewhat shocking to anyone not expecting it. The normally demure doctor was wearing a skin tight leotard, replete with black and white diamonds in an alternating pattern. Fabric covered every inch from collarbone to wrists to toes- but it still did not leave much to the imagination.

As if to literally top off the absurdity of the garment, Dael had a red and gold crown on their head, much in the style of old English monarchs.

Before anyone had a chance to ask what was going on, Paris and the entire 10-Forward crew began a rhythmic pattern with their feet and hands.

STOMP STOMP CLAP!

STOMP STOMP CLAP!

STOMP STOMP CLAP!

Snorting as she tried to contain a laugh, Melanie Dox smiled broadly. In her few years on Earth, the one thing she knew the most about it's culture was just this. Music. The three notes beaten out were immediately recognized and she couldn't help but smile.

The rhythm continued as Asa belted out

"Clemens you're a boy, make a big noise
Playin' in space gonna be a big man some day
Hair on yo' face
But not a disgrace
Kickin' your can all over the place
Singin'"

Sam looked, at first, surprised, then delighted, at the impromptu event, and he immediately joined in on the stomping and clapping.

Both Asa, Paris, and the crew joined together to sing loudly

"We will, we will rock you!
We will, we will rock you!"

A growing number of people had picked up on what was going on, the STOMP STOMP CLAP catching on as it continued and Asa sang,

Dox you are a young girl, smart girl
Shoutin' in your sleep gonna take on all of space some day
Smile on your face
You've got a taste
For driving this ship all over the place!

We will, we will rock you! Sing it!
We will, we will rock you!

Paris you're a young girl, old girl
Searchin with your eyes, gonna make you some peace some day
Moving through time
But doin just fine
Nobody gonna put you back into your place

We will, we will rock you! Sing it!
We will, we will rock you!"

As the group sang the last chorus on their own, Asa walked up to Dox with a huge grin on their face. Right on cue, a holo guitarist appeared to play the guitar solo at the end of the song.

In Asa's hand an microphone had appeared, and they handed that to Dox, placing the crown on her head, and simply said...

"Ladies, gentlemen, and other individuals- Now to grace us with the perfect song for this evening....Melanie Dox!!!"

For her part, if Dox was blushing before her face now went positively flush as her eyes bulged out of her head in shock and she muttered under her breath, "Hnaev..." the Romulan word for 'Shit'.

At Asa's last words, the full band for Metallica appeared except for a singer. That was...definitely Lars though. The music changed from the major key it had been in to a familiar minor opening riff.

It was "Enter Sandman" playing- and all that was needed was for Dox to get up and sing.

Paris was clapping and smiling at the table, hoping everyone would be able to enjoy the doctors antics. They had clearly put effort into planning this little ambush, and it would likely do everyone good to have something to bond over.

For their part, Asa stood expectantly and nervously waiting for Dox to reply or move in some way....hoping they hadn't overstepped their boundaries, and really just wanting their friend to have a good time.

Sitting there for a moment, Dox felt a wave of panic in her gut as all eyes fell on her. She desperately hoped that a red alert would immediately appear so they would all need to report to their stations. Maybe a Borg attack. Anything to stop what was about to happen.

Instead, she stood up with the microphone in one hand, and a glass of Romulan Ale in the other, still mostly full. And, rolling her eyes, proceeded to down the entire glass in one shot. As the potent libation warmed her throat, Dox felt the knot loosen and she took a deep breath as the opening riffs of the song built to the point in which she knew she had to act. And act she did. Tucking the microphone close to her chesh, she leaned into it with her face scrunched tightly.

"SAY YOUR PRAYERS, LITTLE ONE! DON'T FORGET, MY SON! TO INCLUDE EVERYOOONNNNEEE!!"

For a short, round package, Dox's voice was unexpectedly strong with a harsh, gravelly texture as she howled out the lyrics that were extremely familiar to her. Shooting a quick, sarcastic smirk towards the Doctor as she sang, Dox took another deep breath and continued.

By the time the intro had played and Dox had belted it out, Rita Paris belted out an enthusiastic whoop.

The doctor breathed a sigh of relief, glad their plan was working.

"I tuck you in, warm within, Keep you free from sin, 'til the sandman he comes!!!

As Dox continued to rock out, Asa began headbanging along at the table, hooping and cheering her on as they went.

Commander Paris, intrepid explorer, femme fatale and impossible astronaut, was laughing aloud happily, humming along to the tune. In all her years of time and space, she had never seen impromptu Karaoke in a Starfleet lounge...but something about this worked, and she suspected this was going to become a pastime of the crew. Doctor Dael, it seemed, was a genius.

As the song ended, a much more relaxed but hoarse Melanie Dox pretended to throw the microphone at Doctor Dael in an exaggerated, fake swing. "Oh, you UGHNEN!" she yelled at the jovial doctor, than simply handing the mic back to them. "Someone else's turn, now!" She then turned to the bartender, holding up the empty glass in her hand and gesturing at it for a refill. But Melanie was legitimately having fun as she plopped back down in her chair, her thick auburn curls now hanging loosely around her shoulders as her bun gave up halfway through the song.

Turning toward the smiling Commander, Melanie decided that this was absolutely the kind of occasion where a degree of casualness was perfectly appropriate. "There are reasons I'm a PILOT! That was one of them." Dox laughed lightly as the bartender appeared with a fresh Romulan Ale for the stout Junior Grade Lieutenant. Her face still flushed and light brown from blushing, first with embarrassment that has since turned to exhilaration.

"Pfagh, you did great! You were amazing, don't kid yourself. I'm actually sort of tone deaf, so I'm a terrible singer. Which I shall now prove, because if there's one thing that has to happen at every karaoke night is that someone has to be terrible." Standing, Paris tugged at the hem of her skirt in a comical feminine variant of the 'Picard maneuver', then struck a dramatic pose. "I'm going in, people. This will cost me the respect of the crew and my peers, but sacrifices must be made in the name of karaoke!"

Asa was not to be deterred in their enthusiasm and whooped out a call of encouragement.

Daintily picking up the microphone, Paris trotted over to the bar, asked a few questions, then got her drink, tossed it down then took to the cleared 'stage'. "Computer gimme a spotlight, please?"

A spotlight shone down from the overhead, and there stood Rita Paris, looking to all the world as if she was the sole reason for it, and the crowd, having been warmed up by two amazing performances, prepared to be amazed.

"Thank you, Computer. Okay, since we're doing 'oldies' and I am quite the classic myself, we'll try one of the ballads of my homeworld. If you don't know the words, you should be able to catch on with the refrain. And I warn you, I'm serious, I am a very bad singer, so be kind, okay?" The grin that she wore showed that the words held no malice.

As the first few string notes sounded the beginning of the song, Paris began to warble off-key.

Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots
And ruined your black tie affair.
The last one to know, I was the last one to show
I was the last one you thought you'd see there.

Indeed, Rita Paris, so good at so many things, was indeed a terrible off-key and seemingly tone-deaf singer. The crowd exchanged grimaces and expressions of disbelief- was she putting them on, was she going to suddenly get better? By the time she got to the refrain, which was catchy, the crowd was trying to figure out if this was how the song was supposed to sound, if this was really that bad a performance, and how long it was going to go on.

But by the second time they approached the refrain, Paris called for the crowd. "C'mon, you know the words this time, help me out!" she called to the crowd, and they began to carry the tune for her, getting into the spirit of things. By the third and fourth refrains, the crowd was singing along, drowning out Paris, who was leading them only in a perfunctory sense.

Oh, I've got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns, and the beer chases my blues away.
And I'll be okay.
Oh I'm not big on social graces, think I'll slip on down
To the Ohhhhhh- asis
Well, I got frieeeeends in looo-o-oow place-e-es!

While the applause was not enthusiastic, it was polite, and Paris thanked the crew graciously for it and fled the stage. First she trotted to the bar to enact the next phase of her plan, then she scooted back to the table.

As soon as the leggy first officer arrived back at the table, the young physician put their hand up for the customary Earth tradition of a high five in congratulations. Asa was grinning from ear to ear and loving every minute of their friends and shipmates revelry.

Smiling broadly as well, Dox was genuinely having a good time and relaxed. It was comforting to her to be able to see her fellow crewmates relaxing as well. It was a reminder that they were all very much alike in many ways. However, Country music was not something that she had properly explored in her few years on earth and the song Paris had just sang was unfamiliar to her but she liked it, all the same, finding the lyrics oddly fitting for the eclectic mix of personalities that seemed to populate the new home she was rapidly falling in love with. "That was great, Commander." She smiled, authentically.

"I have done my duty, and on that note, it is someone else's turn, before I gain a different sort of terrible reputation," the first officer grinned. Pointing the microphone at the intelligence engineer, Paris offered an expectant look. "I think this is how Hera Rules Karaoke works, Chief Clemens? You get handed the mic, you have to sing. I queued up Marty Robbins 'El Paso, unless you have something else in mind maybe?"

The man in the grey uniform rose to his feet, and took the mic. He leaned against the edge of the bar, and nodded. The music spun up, the initially hopeful strains of the ballad twinkling through the air. He began to croon:

Out in the Badlands, somewhere near old Bajor
I fell in love with a Starfleeter girl
Nighttime would find me in a namelesss cantina
Music would play and the dancers would whirl

He lifted one arm, and spun about, dancing to the side, through the tables, deftly.

Blacker than night were the eyes of my Fleeter
Wicked and evil while casting a spell
My love was deep for this willful young maiden
I was in love, but in vain I could tell

As he reached the viewports, the Chief gestured out into space, illustrating its coldness, as the minor chords began to overtake the melody.

One night a wild young starbuck came in
Wild as the Gamma Wormhole
Dashing and daring, a drink he was sharing
With the girl in the short dress, the one that I loved

Suddenly, the Intelgineer spun round, fire in his eyes, as he laid into the next line:

So in anger I challenged his right for the love of this woman
Down went his hand for the gun that he wore
My challenge was answered in less than a heartbeat
The handsome young stranger lay dead on the floor

Just for a moment I stood there In silence
Shocked by the foul evil deed I had done
Many thoughts raced through my mind as I stood there
I had but one chance and that was to run

Out through the back door to the launchbay I ran
Out where the shuttles resiiiiide
I stole a good one, it looked like a fast one
Jumped in the cockpit, away I did fly
Just as fast as I could from the madness and danger and mayhem
Out of the badlands and back to Bajor

Head low, he continued on:

Back in the Badlands, my life would be worthless
Everything's gone, in life nothing is left
It's been so long since I've seen the young woman
My love is stronger than my fear of death

I saddled up and away I did go
Flying alone in the dark
Maybe tomorrow a hot beam may find me
Tonight nothing's worse than this pain in my heart
And at last here I am on the perimeter of of the Badlands
I see the cursed cantina below
My love is strong and it pushes me onward
Into the Badlands to my girl I go

Off to my right I see five starship troopers
Off to my left fly a dozen or more
Shouting and shooting, I can't let them catch me
I have to make it inside the bay door

Something is dreadfully wrong, for I feel
A deep burning pain in my side
Though I am trying to stay in the flight path
I'm getting weary, unable to fly

But my love for the lady is strong and I rise where I've fallen
Though I am weary, I can't stop to rest
I see the blue beam of light from the phaser
I feel the hot line bore deep in my chest

From out of nowhere my sweet love has found me
Kissing my cheek as she kneels by my side
Cradled by two loving arms that I'll die for
One little kiss, then to my love good-bye

As the last chord faded, the moustachioed minstrel took a bow, and sauntered back to his table, handing the mic to Dedjoy.

As Dedjoy took to the center stage and punched in her song selection, a groan game from a few of the crew that already knew of the infamous woman's inability to carry a tune. In fact, her whole race seemed to be tone deaf and had created a whole series of instruments designed to torment any living being with ears. One such instrument was one that she claimed to be proficient at called the Mortepuss that made sounds reminiscent of those of dying strangled demon cats and could only be appreciated in the cold vacuum of space, by deaf creatures, and supposedly by those of her own people. At the last Federation symphony hosted by the Ilarans, a record thirteen diplomats took their own lives before someone set the building on fire.

But when the sounds of electric guitars and decidedly Earthly bagpipes burst from the sound system, it caught those few that had groaned by surprise. Her singing ended up more yelling at the top of her petite doll-like lung, but it was... Tolerable? Even recognizable as music, even.

By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young girl calling
Michael, they have taken you away,
For you stole Trevelyan's corn,
So the young might see the morn
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay

Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry

By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young man calling
Nothing matters, Mary, when you're free
Against the famine and the crown,
I rebelled, they cut me down
Now you must raise our child with dignity

By a lonely harbor wall, she watched the last star fall
As the prison ship sailed out against the sky
For she lived to hope and pray for her love in Botany Bay
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry

By the time she had finished her song, she had proven that she was the worst singer on the ship and couldn't carry a tune of you handed it to her in a biocanister, but with the song she had chosen it didn't matter - everyone still had fun.

Stumbling down from center stage, she grabbed her glass and downed the whole lot of it and handed the mic off to whomever was standing next to her without even looking.

Caught up in the moment, Melanie Dox was laughing and cheering as Dedjoy finished. She turned to Asa with a smile on her face. "So, how long have you been planning this, doc?"

Doc Dael, grinning from ear to ear, replied, “As soon as you told me you liked Metal. Karaoke was a tradition on Earth for so many years, figured there must be something to it. Besides, when else was I going to get to dress up like Freddy Mercury?”

"Ha! Yeah, that might not come up in a mission anytime soon." Dox laughed and took another sip of her Romulan Ale before pausing for a moment with a sideways grin on her face. "Actually... Some of the mission reports I've read for the ship... You never know."

"Maybe someday I'll tell you the story of how I ended up as a stripper on Risa for three minutes," Paris added. "Starfleet- explore the galaxy, and some of the stories will not be ones you tell your children someday! This possibly being one of them," the friendly first officer said with a grin.

Choking momentarily on her drink, Melanie Dox let out a hearty laugh for such a short officer. "That is a story I am dying to hear one day, Commander." With all of the fun that had been had that evening, she now had tears running down her flushed, chubby cheeks.

Earlier in the evening, she had been nervous and had hoped she wouldn't even be seen. And now Melanie found herself laughing and singing with friends on her new home, having a legitimately good time.

It was, quite possibly, the first time in her adult life that she didn't want the party to end anytime soon.