Starship Troopers

Posted on Fri Jan 11th, 2019 @ 9:08am by Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Commander Rita Paris

Mission: Section 31-B
Location: USS Hera, Deck 11, Holodeck 3
Timeline: 2396, followint Outfitting Briefing

Striding through the corridors of the USS Hera in a suit of powered EVA armor was a new experience for Lieutenant Mnhei'sahe "Melanie" Dox. Her footfalls were heavier, but nowhere near as heavy as she would expect. Following the confidently-striding first officer, she was still getting a feel for coordinating her enhanced body movements, although keeping pace with the Commander’s martial stride was actually helping her quite literally get a rhythm. After all, Paris simply marched most of the time, and anyone who had ever been a Starfleet Academy attendee learned how to march and double-time, two of the Commander’s favorite speeds. So keeping in step with her was more intuitive than most would imagine.

Thinking about it, the young Romulan pilot was glad for her occasional holodeck runs with Commander Paris that have made her more accustomed to keeping pace with her significantly taller First Officer.

The duo was getting some odd looks, Paris in her golden and black armor and Dox in her suit of crimson and sable. But Rita Paris was the first officer of the Hera, and with her helmet down and her visor flipped up, she was clearly recognizable. Thus the rest of the crew tended to gangway when they saw her armored presence coming through. And Dox was still focusing on not falling over or over-striding into the corridor wall in the EVA suit to worry about anyone staring.

Stepping into the turbolift with Dox and a few other crewmen, Paris smiled and nodded socially. “Deck 11. How’s everybody doing? Having another fine day in Starfleet?” Even armored and prepared for action if not warfare, Paris could still put people at ease with a smile and an unexpected chuckle, and she was working that charm to keep her fellow turbolift passengers calm. When they arrived and disembarked at Deck 11, Paris offered a jaunty two-fingered salute to their fellow travelers before continuing on.

“A normal officer would have beamed over to the appropriate holodeck,” she observed, “which of course I’m not about to do. But walking familiar halls and getting a feeling for… whoops, I gotcha, there ya go, keep walking…" The short, squat young pilot stumbled over her own feet, but was caught by the more experienced Commander with ease, as if she'd been anticipating the stumble. "Getting a feeling for how it handles in familiar surroundings should give you a little more confidence. And while it isn’t common practice for EVA suits to be on deck outside of a crisis, nobody’s going to have any complaints, unless they file it directly with the Captain, and that will get them their own blistering for skipping the chain of command. And here we are,” Paris stopped and pivoted on one heel before the entrance to Holodeck 3.

For her part, the stout redhead in the crimson armor was not half as winded as she usually was keeping pace with the leggy Commander thanks to the enhancements in the EVA suits that increased strength and reflex time. "So, where will we be going today?" Dox asked, somewhat enthusiastically.

“That’s an excellent question,” Paris responded. “Honestly, there are probably a wealth of tactical simulations and target practice in rough terrain. Or we could relive some of the Rita Paris Greatest Hits collections of battles I’ve participated in the past. But I don’t really want to just drop you in the deep end, and I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”

“I don’t know how much you might have taken in the geography of San Francisco’s surrounding environs when you were at the Academy,” Rita lied, because she already had a sneaky suspicion that the shy and anxious young woman who had not enjoyed the Academy experience of the human girl from the planet in question, “but south of the bay is Mount Talampais- you might have seen it from the Academy or at the very least the nature trail on the eastern grounds. I was thinking we could hike it while learning how the different rounds and grenades and functions of the TRC-116 C2 operate, while giving you some challenging terrain to overcome. Think you’re up for it?”

"That sounds good to me, Commander." Dox replied, deciding to not go into too much detail on what she felt Paris must be picking up on. "Yeah, I... didn't get off campus much."

“Most cadets don’t,” Paris replied easily. “Between the workload, the inclusiveness of the campus and the fact that most of them are far from home in one way or another, they tend to be head down, focused on getting through the next challenge or hurdle and seldom do they take in the mountain ranges in the distance and think about taking a climb. Unless they grew up there, know the shuttle routes and have enough local knowledge to plan and organize a trip- and who fulfils those requirements at Starfleet Academy? Heck, human cadets aren’t even as common as they used to be I’d wager.”

When she spoke like that, it was clear that Paris had come from a bygone age, because she had to imagine what life at Starfleet Academy was like in the modern day. Looking to the overhead, Paris spoke directly to the ship’s computer rather than accessing the control panel- another giveaway, Dox realized, because it was entirely possible that the Commander genuinely didn’t know how to operate the Holodeck, and instead simply asked the ship’s computer for what she needed and it obliged her.

“Computer, please give us a recreation of Earth, California, Mount Tamalpias, southern face, base of the mountain, modern day. 10 Am local time, sunny weather please. Eliminate any air traffic that should exist and no other climbers or hikers, please.” Hearing the computer’s confirmation code, Paris tabbed open the door, and the fresh air and chirping of birds emerged along with the smell of a coniferous forest.

“After you, Miss Dox” the first officer offered obligingly.

Stepping slowly into the chamber, looking around at the holographic Vista, it somehow looked more inviting then it had when Dox had actually been on Earth last. Perhaps she was seeing it through Rita Paris' eyes, or perhaps it was simply that she was learning to let go of her old angers. Whichever it was, she smiled at the scene as she turned back towards the golden armored officer.

Stepping into the forest, the eyes of the Earth girl lit up, and a simple smile of joy settled onto her face. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply of the air, smelling the pine of the forest as a slight breeze ruffled her hair. The dappled cover let through beams of sunlight, and she looked skyward as she shaded her eyes with her hand.

"I miss it, you know? My home planet, Earth. It's funny, now, because somehow no one in Starfleet is from Earth anymore. I think that's kind of wonderful... so many races peacefully intermingling and working toward one common ideal with all of us bringing our diversity to the table. All that exploring and those first contacts and weird adventures we had back in my day, were for the dream of something like what the Federation seems to have become. Starfleet at the very least."

"But there's no place like home," Rita Paris sighed as she inhaled deeply again. "I haven't been home in three years. Or a hundred thirty something if you count the passage of real time."

"The town I grew up in, the Academy I attended, the Starfleet Command that I knew... they're all long gone, even if they are the same in this universe." Paris paused, realizing she was being maudlin and straightened up self-consciously. "But the mountains are still there, and the bay is still out there, and there are a few timeless elements of the skyline. It's nice being able to see them here, but as convincing as it looks and feels, it's not real. This isn't really Northern California, and this is just a simulation of Mount Talampais."

"I'd like to see it again, connect with it... does that make sense?" Paris peered at her junior officer and realized that she was supposed to be training her subordinate in how to operate lifesaving combat armor and a weapon that would render her a one-woman army. Not wax metaphysical about being homesick for Earth. Get it together, little missy! she heard her father bark in her head, and she shook her head sadly." Ah... sorry, Miss Dox. I am old, and I tend to be distracted at times. We should get started."

"I get homesick for a planet I've never set foot on, Commander. It's a different flavor, but I understand." Dox replied, but quickly followed Paris' lead to get back on track. "You said we would be working with the... TRC-116 C2, I think?"

"TR-116C2, yes. Computer, please holographically reproduce a TR-116C2 for each of us, with an additional powerpack. Slung right-handed for both of us. I'd hold your arm up and get ready, Miss Dox, it's got some heft to it."

As the leiutenant obeyed the first officer's suggestion, the holodeck produced two large multibarreled rifles, with a box at the end of the longer barrel. The pistol grip was reinforced to the shoulder stock by a brace, which indicated that it was built to expect or dissipate recoil. The shorter barrel beneath the one ending in a cube was wider, but not exceptionally so. The most exceptional thing that she noticed was the weight. While the weapon seemed balanced holding it by the pistol grip, which was wide enough to accommodate her armored fingers, it felt heavy in her hands. While she'd been told that the suits amplified their strength, this still felt like she was toting 10 kilos worth of weapon here. Also, she noticed there appeared to be an ammo clip on the ground beside her.

"First things first, Miss Dox. This is your weapon, so trigger safety protocols are in effect. It had a shoulder strap if you wish to use it, but I personally prefer," Paris turned her back to Dox and levered the weapon over her shoulder, not pointing it at the Romulan lieutenant on the way, but ending the over the shoulder with the rifle practically leaping from her hand onto her back. Turning to face the redheaded pilot, the supercentenarian space explorer smiled. "Electromagnets in the weapon and the armor activated through the HUD, designed to attract one another on command. Range of about a meter, but that usually does the trick. One of my customizations I installed into your armor. Try it out... and you can come up with your own variant of course. This is just my preferred version for stowing it for hands-free or mobility."

Having watched Paris' demonstration, Dox then turned her attention to the TRC-116 C2. Keeping the barrels down and away from both officers and her fingers clear of the trigger, the young part-Romulan pilot ran her eyes across the weapon with the see focus she would give to the helm of a ship, taking a mental note of the various interface controls before bringing the barrel up, parallel to her body.

Mimicking Commander Paris' actions, Dox turned the weapon over her shoulder, but found herself straining to reach a little more as the electromagnets pulled the weapon hard against her back, slapping her forward a half step. With a slightly awkward but.thoughtful half smile, Dox commented. "I'm going to have to practice that." Then held her thick, stocky arms slightly up. "Short arms and all. Might need that strap for retrieval purposes."

Then focusing her attention back to Paris, Dox had a somewhat quizzical look on her face. "How much does this actually weigh? 75, 80 kilos?"

"Excellent observation, Ms. Dox. Seventy eight kilos with this loadout, which is the full complement. Now for the reason why, grab your spare ammo and figure out where to store it because you're going to need it, and you'll recognize why the weapon is so heavy." Bending at the knees, the Commander grasped the clip of the weapon, which looked only perhaps twice the size of her phaser's handle. Gripping it carefully, she hefted it up to clip it to her left hip where a clip designed to hold it awaited it. "Dense matter. The weapon is not a traditional firearm- it's a portable transporter slash replicator with a dedicated menu. This is what it uses to produce the wonders it can eject. Understood?"

Picking up the hefty ammunition pack and pondering it for a moment, Dox felt around to the small of her back opposite the side the weapon was slung. Noticing a small rigid plate, she alligned the ammo pack as it magnetically locked into place.

Walking to where Paris was kneeling, Dox mirrored her commanders position and strained to reach the stock over her shoulder. After a slighlty too long reach, she pulled the weapon free and into position. "Yeah, shoulder strap will make that a lot quicker for me." Then looking at the unsual device In her arms, elaborated on what Paris was describing.

"With the proper programming and matter load, this could generate an almost... infinite variety of potential payloads. And looking at the construction of the stock, this almost looks more like a launcher designed to withstand significant kickback. Mag rail propulsion for payload delivery or something similar?"

"Oh yes. And transported rounds. Fire in a random direction, the firearm beams it into location with the velocity intact and pre-programmed away from you." Pausing for the expression that wrought upon the face of the young Starfleet officer, Paris nodded ruefully. "Welcome to the weapon of the soldier of the future, Miss Dox. For now, get it slung. Because in any mission, before the shooting comes all that running to get there or get away until you can gain advantage and attempt to turn the tide. This is Starfleet, this is part of what we do. So gear up, so we may mount up, Lieutenant."

That was a snapshot in her mind that Mnhei'sahe Dox would always remember- standing in the woods at the base of a mountain, fumbling with a deployable shoulder strap. While there in a patch of sunshine, in gleaming golden armor, looking to all the world as if she were the reason it was all there, stood Rita Paris. The soul of confidence, grace and competency- what every officer aspired to be, all rolled up in a bombshell body with the face of an angel and the heart of a heroine. In her later years, when the portly pilot thought of the woman, the image of this moment would stay with her.

At which point Paris paused, raised an eyebrow then checked her six on the HUD in her yellow anti-glare visor. Seeing nothing behind her she scanned the area as a matter of course, then realized Doz was still staring. Leaning in quizzically at the shorter crimson armored command trainee, Paris offered concern. "Dox?"

Realizing she was staring like a starstruck little girl, the embarrassed Lieutenant slung the massive weapon over her shoulder, using the newly affixed shoulder strap to lower it to her back more smoothly where it snapped into place.

Her blood felt like it was rushing hot under her skin as she spoke. "I apologize, Commander. It's just... Sometimes it's very... easy to see why you were on that recruitment poster."

Mention of her old 2257 Starfleet recruitment poster made the model's face light up, and it was clear on Rita's face that brought a story to mind, and memories danced behind those baby blue eyes of the earthling. But duty called, and she'd already let this bog down in a lot of distraction. Thus all she offered in response was, "You are very kind, Lieutenant. Thank you. Now, you're all loaded up- ready to run up a mountain?"

Getting her mind back to where she was and what she was doing, Dox replied. "Aye, Commander. So, since you had mentioned we would be shooting, what kind of resistance can we expect on this hike? Or is it an 'expect the unexpected' scenario?"

“Glad you asked,” Paris replied. “Partially this will be a hike up a mountain, since this mountain is 750… sorry, 784 meters tall, this will be a little bit of a hike. So we’re going to practice running and climbing in the EVA armor, pausing along the way to take breaks to shoot at things as we ascend the peak. For added difficulty, we’ll make this a timed test- a mountain this small we should be able to ascend in that time if we hustle, and that’s the purpose of the exercise. Getting you used to moving, jumping and scrambling in a hurry. Because if you are wearing this armor and carrying this firearm, you are likely going to need to be doing all of the above.”

“Ready?” Paris asked, limbering up and doing some stretches before they began. The Commander was a big fan of limbering up, Dox knew from experience.

Deferring to that experience, Dox followed suit, stretching out and shaking off some lingering nerves before taking a deep breath. Pausing for a few seconds, Dox let out the breath. "Aye, Commander."

Which was when Rita Paris bolted through the treeline, bounding up the low hill of the base of the mountain.

The speed with which Paris took off almost looked like she had launched into a run to Dox, who stood, slightly shocked for two seconds before breaking into a run to catch up. The enhancements the armor provided made catching up both easier and harder at the same time. Dox was moving significantly faster but also covering so much more ground with each step that she was struggling to not overshoot each step and slam into the side of the hill.

Looking ahead, Rita Paris looked like she had been born in the suit and was virtually floating up with each perfectly timed bound. In comparison, Dox imagined she must've looked like an injured animal stumbling on ice for the first time. But after a brief moment, the young part-Romulan pilot started to get the hang of running uphill in the armor. Which is, of course, when things got more interesting.

As the foothills gave way, the trees cover lessened, sparser now as the soft earth gave way forst to gravel, then to larger rocks. Paris plotted a course on the fly, dodging the larger stone, vaulting them when she could not and generally maintaining speed and sprint. Thanks to the HUD, she could see how Dox was doing without having to look back to check, and she could see the heartrate and vitals of her charge as they performed maneuvers, insuring that she wasn’t pushing the portly pilot too hard.

All of which was going well until they encountered a sheer face, perhaps 20 meters tall and stretching for a considerable distance to either side. Turning, Paris waited the few seconds for her crimson-clad copilot to arrive, as she had been scrambling to keep up and doing well. Not having the chance to overthink it and needed to make it happen was the best way to build confidence in the young Romulan helmsman, and as her superior Paris knew this and worked with it.

“All right Miss Dox,” Paris paused, catching her breath as the little Lieutenant caught up. “Challenge- how do we ascend this rock face?”

Placing her hand flat against the rock face, Dox’s mind raced for a few seconds. She may not know how to talk to people but she knew how to solve problems and her mind was tightly focused on the problem at hand.

“What we have on our backs aren’t guns, they’re mobile replicators. We could replicate and fire climbing spikes into the face at proper intervals, and with the enhanced strength should be able to make it up fairly quickly so long as the rockface itself is stable enough to withstand repeated pressure and puncture.”

Her eyes darted back around as she thought. “The weapons could theoretically provide sufficient thrust to literally propel ourselves vertically like a rocket but I’m not sure the strength enhancements would be sufficient to allow us to make the trip with them and we wouldn’t be able to control the direction of ascent.”

“Another idea could be to replicate a winched grapple mechanism to pull us up. That’s likely the quickest and safest option.” She looked at Paris for confirmation hoping her ideas didn't sound too crazy.

“I may have misrepresented the capabilities of the firearm in my description,” Paris admitted with some chagrin. "I don’t believe it could be used to propel an armored body up the mountainside, not that far at least, and not without structural damage to the armor and likely the wearer. Spikes hard enough to penetrate the granite sufficiently would likely use up the ammo pack, assuming it could produce those, which I don’t believe is in it’s presets. And it is definitely not a full scale replicator capable of producing a winched grapnel mechanism. The TR-116’s capabilities for replication are limited to rounds small enough to emerge from one of the two barrels, bullets and grenades I’m afraid. Again, it seems I grossly misrepresented the firearm as a multitool- that’s on me.”

“Now, without using the firearm, we could try the climb, as we have enhanced stretch and reflexes and they would help ascending this face. We could go around, as the terrain to either side is likely not as steep. We could, in a pinch, use armor-piercing rounds to gouge out hand and footholds to climb. We might take a wirepoon loadout with a winch on the armor if we chose,” Paris held up her right arm, upon which there was a bulky unit attached to her forearm. “You were on the right track, but replication in the field is seldom a good plan. So, would you like to try some amateur cliff climbing- keeping in mind we are on the clock- or do we go around?”

For a second, Dox's mind flashed back to the first time the two officers went jogging in the holodeck. They were running on the exterior saucer section of a simulation of the U.S.S. Exeter and Dox ordered the holodeck to remove an obstacle for them, but Rita canceled the order and the ran around the obstacle. There was a lesson in that. Dox was learning there were lessons in most of the things Rita Paris said and did where she was concerned. You can't make obstacles go away, so sometimes you need to find a way around them.

"Climbing would probably be fun, but with a clock counting down, every second counts. We can run in these suits FAR faster than we can climb. Plus, there's the risk of our blasting handholds destabilizing the rock face. I think we need to find away around." Dox replied, less like a question or even a suggestion and with intention.

The smile which greeted that statement showed no small amount of pride, which was not an expression to which Melanie Dox was accustomed. But she was learning that Commander Paris was absolutely the worst at hiding her emotions, and when the young pilot did or said something that made her First Officer proud, it showed. “Excellent call, Ms. Dox. Now how do we make the determination which way to go- port or starboard?”

Stepping slightly back, Dox looked in both directions with a slightly quizzical look on her face for about one second before rolling her eyes. Calling up the heads up displays of the sensor arrays built into the gear with a few quick eye motions quickly gave Dox a virtual wireframe view of the terrain in 360 degrees. A virtual plethora of data scrolled in her field of view. Another couple of seconds later, the stout Romulan looked back at Commander Paris.

"Port is rockier. More footholds and landings to run up. Starboard is more level but comprised on mostly loose gravel and stones. Port will be tough, but much more stable considering the weight of our gear." She answered with just a touch of unconcealed excitement in her voice. In spite of the effort and tension, Dox was feeling like she was legitimately getting into the proverbial zone.

“I concur. Let’s go, Miss Dox- on the bounce!” Paris exclaimed, although the statement didn’t make a whole lot of sense. But off she ran like a great golden jackrabbit, bounding and running to make time with their path now chosen and the terrain expected. She was fully halfway up the slope when Paris' footing appeared to give out, and she began to slide back down the incline as she scrabbled for a handhold to slow her descent.

Without thinking, Dox's mind went into flight mode as if she were back at the helm with a crisis in front of her. Since she was still behind and now below the slipping form of Rita Paris, she lept into action... literally.

Using every iota of enhancements that the armor could provide, Dox launched herself up towards Paris as she began to fall and twist towards Dox. Aiming her leap, Dox slammed hard against her Commander pushing the both up and against the sheer rock face to the side of them.

In one motion, Dox punched her armored fingers into the rock face behind them, digging in just enough to pin the two officers to the side. The unfortunate side effect of this maneuver was in planting the much shorter Lieutenants face squarely in the center of Rita's golden breastplate, which was fortunately just a rounded shell and not form-fitted to the executive officer’s abundant curves.

Jerking back quickly as soon as the two were stable again, Dox pried her fingers free and stepped on to a small platform of rock beneath the two. "Hnave! Uh... Sorry Commander. Are you... Are you okay?"

“Sorry for what, Lieutenant? For saving me from a potentially nasty fall had I slid over that cliff face, or for assisting a shipmate while on the course of the mission? Quick thinking and well done, Miss Dox!” With a nimbleness that decried her momentary slip, Paris planed her feet and stood, offering her hand to the crimson-clad commando with a grin that somehow indicated all was right with the world. “C'mon… let’s get up on top of that ridge up there and we’ll review some ammunition options, eh?”

"Aye, Commander," Dox replied as she took the hand up and followed behind Paris as they continued. In the back of her mind, Dox had to question if Rita's slip had been yet another test, watching now how smoothly Rita ascended. But the thought left her brain as she focused on the task of keeping up as best as possible.

The hike was equal parts exhilarating and exhausting. Each step was enhanced, but no less a challenge as the thickly built young redhead felt herself sweating as the duo reached the top of the ridge. Rita Paris at least had the good grace to appear winded.

“Hydration break, Miss Dox. We’re doing well, a good third of the way up the mountain and we still have 40 minutes to go. Take a minute and catch your breath, then we’ll review some live fire options,” Paris ordered, following her own directions and taking a bit of water from the suit, which extended a drinking straw for her to access the life-giving fluid commonly needed by most humanoids. “The system will recycle your waste into pure water- sweat or urine- which can keep you going on a long EVA, aside from the armor’s small reservoir. I pack a few nutrition bars in mine, because I’ve needed them before. You okay on calorics?”

Watching Paris' motions, Dox mimicked the actions to call out the straw on her helmet for a drink. It was surprisingly refreshing compared to the recycled water on the ship she grew up on. While taking a quick drink, Dox read the biometric data on the heads up display. She looked confused for a moment at the data before remembering that the corrections to her DNA that Doctor Dael had completed restored her body chemistry and functionality to a Romulan baseline, meaning the extremely low blood pressure, even exerting herself, was actually perfectly normal, as were her current hydration levels.

The readouts gave her all the information she needed, combined with what a lifetime of trying to lose weight had taught her. "I'm good on calories. The joy of a hybrid metabolism with Vulcanoid muscle density. Romulans may not have Vulcan's physical strength, but the bone and muscle density is the same, so it takes me 3 to 4 times the effort to burn the same amount of calories a full human would. Though I AM hoping it will get a little easier now that my Father's overweight, Scottish DNA has gone recessive again." Dox laughed, smiling at Rita as the pain took a momentary break.

“Ach! The divvil ye say?” Paris rolled out with a fair Scottish brogue, which earned her a blank stare. “Right… well, I shouldn’t worry, Miss Dox. I’ve tested your physical fitness and it is exemplary. So anyone who judges you on your shape is a fool, and their comeuppance is well earned.” Pausing for a moment, Paris held up her left arm and tapped a few commands into the data device on her forearm, pausing the countdown. “Lets take a break here, because I think it’s time we had a talk, you and I.”

The typical know in the anxious aviatrix's stomach tightened up just a little, but not quite as bad as it usually did. After the last couple of months serving together, Dox was finally getting an idea that when Rita Paris wanted to have a sit down like this, it generally was for a good reason.

Taking a seat on the ridge with the ground cover and the forest laid out before them, with more woodland spread out as far as the eye could see with the occasional ribbon of roadway cutting through it, Paris inhaled deeply, then released it to look the Romulan pilot in the eye. “You see, Mnhei'sahe Dox, you are a Romulan, and having embraced your heritage, now you must fully understand the other part of your heritage. All of the great races of the Federation- well, nearly all- can somehow manage to interbreed with another race. Occasionally it will result in a mutant strain, such as the Neko Caitains, the half-human crossbreeds who combine elements of both species.” Paris smirked, shrugging slightly. “We humans are breeders. We took to the stars, and started humping.”

“Which is good. Because all of you humanoid races out here that we intermarry with our genetics, it seems more often than not, what you get is an exceptional version of the other species. One with all of the capabilities of the other race, infused with the drive of humanity to explore, to achieve, to reach for the stars. And while so many of those races are stiff, inflexible and some might say stagnant, Humanity are some of the most adaptable creatures in the universe.”

“Spock was half human, yet he was arguably perhaps the greatest Vulcan since Surak. He pierced time, learned to navigate it, and even pierced dimensions, altering destiny. Sela is half human and reputed to be one of the most Romulan badasses to ever come along. Like them, you, Miss Dox, are half human.”

“While we humans might not have done very well by you, as you move into the future, I want you to remember that you’re also half human, Miss Dox. To my mind, that means you are capable of doing anything a native Romulan can... and far, far more. We’re an unexceptional species from a backwater planet that nuked their own world repeatedly, poisoned it and practically sold it for profit. But within us are the seeds of greatness, and you carry that heritage within you. So no matter how far you go and however much you embrace your Romulan heritage, always remember that part of you came from the third rock from Sol- and that birthright grants you unlimited potential, Miss Dox. So reach for the stars, because we’re with you too. Okay?” Knowing that she’d been long-winded and preachy, Paris smiled to offset the weight of what she’d tried to impart to her young charge.

For her part, Dox was smiling broadly. As usual, Rita Paris could see deep into her heart and cut right through her in the best way. She looked out over the breathtaking vista as she spoke. "I hated this place. Earth. It felt like a prison I had been condemned to. It was where he came from. I didn't want anything to do with it."

She turned to look at Rita for a second before continuing. "I couldn't see... this. I didn't want to see this. I mean, in my defense I was a perpetually angry 16-year-old being told to not tell anyone what I was when I got to Earth." Dox chuckled slightly as she recollected. "But I know I didn't ever give it a chance. Humanity, I mean. Sure, I played up looking mostly human but that wasn't me embracing it or anything... it was just a defense. A poor one that... well... didn't really help."

Thinking, Dox hung her head slightly as she continued. "And now... it's hard to look back with anything but regret for the missed opportunities. But I guess I have a new one now. To... not put either part of myself back in a box."

"We are the sum of our physicality, spirituality and mentality, as my guy likes to say," Paris replied with a relieved smile. Often she launched into these sort of mentoring moments without a clue where it's going or what she's doing. Speaking from her heart tended to work though, and she felt it was important for Dox to not abandon half herself as she sought to understand who she was and who she was becoming.

"We can't change the past- wait, scratch that, I don't think I'm allowed to say that anymore. Most of the time we can't change the past," Paris amended as she looked out over the mountains and the coastline, feeling the wind and the hint of the salt of the sea. "But we can let those regrets and missed opportunities guide us into the future, having taught us to not repeat those mistakes. We are all of us a lot of people- look at the Captain."

"Pirate princess of the Artan family which, according to her, she arranged herself through some shady time travel. Starfleet captain of a ship of secrets, sent where the trouble is unbelievable, following a madwoman. Wife to a photonic version of another photonic being. Unruly daughter to the stern matriarch of the clan. Savior to the Baroness. A woman who is, at heart, lonely despite always being surrounded by others. She is all of these things and more, but she doesn't put them in boxes- it is the blend of all those features, all those lives, all those experiences that comprise who she truly is as Enalia Telvan."

"Same goes for you, Lieutenant," Paris placed her fist against the smaller woman's shoulder and gently nudged like a slo-mo shot in the arm, smiling affectionately.

Returning the smile, Dox chuckled. "Yeah, probably best to fake the punching in these things." Dox looked down at the crimson armor she was wearing, shining in the simulated sunlight. "I feel like I have a better handle on operating this EVA suit then I do of being half-human sometimes. But going one way or the other hasn't really worked in my life, so might as well try being exceptional for a change. At least I know I won't be trying on my own."