A Stroll On The Promenade

Posted on Sat Feb 23rd, 2019 @ 9:09pm by Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Commander Rita Paris & Hera

Mission: Recovery Trek
Location: Deep Space 9, Habitat Ring, the Promenade
Timeline: 2396, docked at DS9

"Halt and identify yourself!"

"Ramp it down, Jablonski," the officer in the distinctive uniform of the golden age of Starfleet shot back as she approached. "I'm unarmed and openly approaching. You only need to challenge if I refuse to identify myself in order to gain access. Follow your protocols, don't overreach. Computer, unseal hatch VIP Quarters 8, on my order. Paris, R, LTCDR, 867-5309."

=^= What was your mother's maiden name?" =^= the computer asked, in recognition of the clearance protocols she herself had put into place.

"Vostok," Rita Paris replied, and the hatch unsealed. Instead of entering immediately, Commander Rita Paris took a moment to appraise the two security personnel guarding the door. "Kruge, have you been hitting the weights?"

"Aye commander. Benching 140 kilos," the Nausicaan officer replied proudly.

"Good work. Jablonski, have you actually gotten a little taller since I last saw you?" Paris asked the other security officer.

"I don't think so, ma'am. Just been bulking up a bit lately- high protein and carb loading," the beefy Amazon replied.

"All right, well, keep up with your stretches so you don't lose flexibility," Paris replied, making a mental note to check with Dr. Dael to see if her security force was getting bigger or if she was getting smaller. Stepping into the VIP guest quarter, she looked around for their unlikely resident. The namesake of the starship herself, the goddess Hera dwelled here, occupying her days engrossed in books and apparently cooking projects.

"Rita! I've made something wonderfully delicious that you absolutely must try!" Hera called from the small kitchenette the quarters came with. There was a bit of a mess around her, but she had successfully created about two dozen heart-shaped, muffin sized cheesecake looking cherry tortes and they were arranged elegantly on a serving tray. "I've been exploring the culinary delights that are cookbooks and I've stumbled across so many recipes that I had to try to make something myself and with a little coaxing from that replication device, I was able to get some ingredients and figure out these cooking implements. And look! I can still cook! I've created something called a..."

Consulting a paperback open to a recipe of deserts, Hera read off the name. "A cherry brie torte! I think it's the best thing I've eaten since I left Mount Olympus! And this book has thousands of other things I can make as well! isn't that amazing! This Mar..." Again, she had to consult the cookbook, but this time the cover. "Martha Stewart? This person is a genius."

Seeing the former heartless tyrant of Meroset 347 excitedly bustling about the kitchenette rediscovering domestic skills brought a smile to Rita's face. The goddess of family, of home and hearth, she had hoped that this might mean the goddess might embrace some of the more traditional skills to keep herself occupied. Inwardly she wondered how much of what she thought of such things may have influenced the celestial being she had fought so hard to bring along with them on the starship that bore her name, and decided they would talk about that today. But for now, there was a cherry brie torte to try.

Briefly the consideration of protocol arose in her mind, and she realized that a being as old as Hera could easily replicate innocuous ingredients that might still be combined for alchemical purposes to create a sedative or a poison, that the computer would not recognize without an analysis, and she could likely drug the first officer, as part of a daring escape plan while docked at DS9, which could then enable her to escape to the Gamma Quadrant.

However, if Hera had such a plan, it seemed unlikely. The goddess seemed genuinely pleased at her conversion to Rita's way of thinking- she had weaned herself from worship through fear and awe, and learned that good deeds were literally their own reward for her now. When Baroness von Alcott and Death had become too closely bonded and it had turned both to the darkness, as the Baroness fought to remember herself and Death had attacked, Hera had shielded them. Physically interposing herself at great risk to her own life, she had fled her escort and appeared where she was needed, and held out against the onslaught of Death itself.

As redemptions went, it was a pretty significant step. Every challenge Rita Paris had set forth, Hera had risen to with aplomb. Every request she had made, however simple or complex, Hera had fulfilled to the best of her ability. Even the Aesir had been impressed, and granted the USS Hera custody of the fallen goddess, who was slowly but surely climbing back toward the light. It warmed Rita's heart to see, and it brought her joy to see the woman bustling about the kitchen.

It had yet to dawn on the ancient astronaut that she was slowly crafting a space in her life for a maternal figure. After all, her own mother had died when she was very young, and the young Rita Paris had done her best to seek attention and approval from her father, which she never achieved. But deep down she had always missed having a positive maternal figure in her life, which the patron goddess of women, marriage, family, and childbirth certainly seemed to be working to fulfill in the modern day.

In the here and now, she delicately accepted the offer, picked up one of the heart-shaped pastries and took a bite, savoring the flavor as she rolled it around in her mouth. A smile spread across her face as the flavor suffused her senses. "Oh... oh, that's very good..." she murmured. "I think I'll have to try making these myself, that's absolutely delicious, Hera!"

"Oh, thank goodness you like them. And just in time for the holidays, too." Hera busied herself with trying to clean up the mess, putting the dirty cooking implements in the sink and humming as she did so. "You just had a birthday, right? With yours and then mine coming up in a couple weeks... I just... I guess I miss the feasts, you know?"

"I don't," Rita admitted, swallowing the mouthful of torte. "Feasts? And your birthday? Pretend I am from not long enough ago to know what you are talking about, and that I am a poor student of history and fill me in, please?"

"Ah, yes... The Feast of All Heras is on March seventh. That comes up soon on the calendar if my mind isn't playing tricks on me." Hera finished loading up the sink with the dishes and wiped her hands off, smiling happily at Rita. "I know it's not much, but I was hoping we could at least have dinner together since I consider it my birthday. My children normally celebrated with me and since..."

The expression on Rita's face betrayed her attempt at protocol and stoicism, instead showing clearly just how touched she was by the request. "I would be honored. Maybe I can whip up something nice... I don't know anything about the feasts or birthday traditions of your day, but we have some simple ones involving feasts followed by gifts, cake and ice cream?"

"The feast itself is the gift to me, then my children would get offerings of arts, incense, precious items, and oils. Also, I would start the evening by washing their feet in scented waters." Hera had a bit of a tear forming in one eye as she spoke. "Ah, but there is time to plan, yet. Shall we proceed with our usual walk?"

There was a long moment where Rita considered what had been said. The washing of the feet was a humbling act, one that the old Hera it seemed would never consider, yet it was a part of her ancient culture, and tradition. Being married to a Vulcan, to whom tradition was practically second nature, lent her some grasp of the importance of such things. A smile spread across her face, and she nodded. "A little feast is good every once in a while. We were so busy we didn't even celebrate... Saturnalia for you I guess?"

"Oh, Saturnalia... The week-long feasts and celebrations were legendary..." Hera reminisced for a moment before snapping back to the present. "I suppose a week-long feast would be hard for you though."

"I doubt we could stay out of trouble for that long on this ship, honestly. At any rate, today we're going to do something a little different. With an honor guard of four... which, I might note, out of all of the applicants that I tried to get onto this ship I have 7 male security force. The other 68 are all women. You mentioned something about attracting them..." Rita paused to take another bite of that torte, savoring the combination of flavors. "At least they're well-disciplined and dedicated officers."

"Point being, four of them will be accompanying us, because there's a space station with which we are docked, designed by the Cardassians but tended to by the Federation despite the fact that it is considered the planet Bajor's jurisdiction. The thing that makes it so special is that there is a stable wormhole that apparently upon on approach, which goes to the other side of the galaxy, the Gamma Quadrant. I could show you a map if you like, for scale. The Bajoran people consider it their holiest of holies, their Celestial Temple in which their god, the Prophets, dwell." It might have sounded like a ridiculous conversation to Rita Paris six months ago. But in there here and now and the world in which she now lived, it was just an explanation for the facts.

"Apparently Starfleet views the Prophets as life forms of considerable power and influence who live inside the wormhole itself, through which travel is not instantaneous, and people and ships have gone lost within her- not the least of which was the commander of the station throughout the most recent war, the Dominion War, fought with an empire on the other side of the wormhole. Reassuring, eh?" Rita grinned at her own deflection, then pressed on.

"Point being, I want you to have the opportunity to see it, and something other than the Hera for a few minutes. They have a promenade and shops and restaurants and different people. And the sight of the wormhole genuinely is a breathtaking thing of beauty. So, we're bringing security so no one can object to the dangerous personage at large, and the Hera will maintain a transporter lock on you at all times. But how about a stroll through the promenade, to go see one of the universe's most beautiful and spectacular phenomenon today?" Rita popped the rest of the torte into her mouth with a small bit of smug satisfaction at having come up with a nice surprise for the USS Hera's resident goddess.

The matronly goddess clasped her hands together at the side of her face. "That sounds absolutely divine. Thank you. Please... I um... Is there anything I should do to prepare? The Prophets... Bajor, you say? Well, lead on. I have no idea what to expect, but it sounds positively exciting." Nicking one of the tortes, Hera nibbled on it as she waited for Rita to unseal the quarters so she could leave.

"We'll be picking up Miss Dox at the airlock, so that you are being accompanied by two senior officers as well as the security detail. Thus we are working very hard to avoid a diplomatic incident with the Bajorans, because we are being hyper-cautious. If you have any... ahhh, there's a word for money in this period..." Rita picked up her PaDD from where she'd set it and tapped away at it. "Latinum, that's it. Gold-pressed latinum is the currency of the day. There's some sort of monetary exchange for modern Federation moneyless society members... I don't know, but if they gave me back pay we're rich."

"So wear some comfortable shoes, put on whatever you'd like to be seen in and let's go for a trip to a space mall with an amazing view." Rita offered. "Computer, unseal the hatch of VIP quarters #8. Authorization Paris, R, LTCDR 867-5309."

=^= What is your favorite color? =^= the computer asked solicitously.

"Science blue," Rita responded, and the door opened. Striding into the corridor, Commander Paris paused between the two security officers stationed outside the door.

"Kruge, Jablonski, you're with me. Hera's on a walkabout on DS9. We'll be picking up Lu and V'nus with Lieutenant Dox at the airlock on Deck 10. Fall in." At that, Rita stepped forward, with Hera beside her and the two Amazonian security officers fell in two paces behind them, both matching the Commander's military pace, falling in step as military personnel tended to do, particularly those fresh out of training.

As Hera had little time to change, she just grabbed a shawl from her fainting couch and slipped into her nicest Roman sandals before heading out the door. "The lovely lady with the red curls, right? It'll be nice to see her again. She reminds me of someone I knew once. Then again, as old as I am, doesn't everyone?"

"Huh," Rita replied, looking thoughtful as she marched along. "Just as old as I am I see how no one gets my jokes, my references fall flat and it's a different world... it has to have gotten so old for you. And with all of the people you've known, we must have long since broken down into archetypes centuries ago. You meet us once, you'll have met us a dozen times."

"That is an astute observation... However, even now, I find myself surprised and meeting amazing and unexpected people." Hera tossed a wink at Rita as they entered the turbolift in the usual manner. "I can't remember meeting anyone like you, after all."

Allowing the two security officers to step in, noting that they immediately set facing forward, Rita was pleased with how Security was running these days. "Deck 10, port airlock, please. Ah, there have to have been plenty like me. Well-behaved women rarely make history or attract the attention of the gods."

"Well behaved..." The comment elicited a snorting giggle from the antique goddess. "Perhaps you remind me of my younger self then. Before I was married."

As the doors opened the security officers stepped out in advance, ensuring all was clear before stepping to either side to allow the passage of the chatty duo. Proceeding on, they could see Lieutenant Dox awaiting at the airlock with a very petite humanoid and a rather thick and burly Klingon, both clad in security gold.

Seeing the assemblage coming towards them, Dox stood at attention with her hands behind her back. She nodded slightly to Lu and V'nus before stepping out slightly forward to greet them. "Commander Paris, Lady Hera. Good evening."

Hera smiled brightly, waving to the red-haired Romulan. "The brave and determined Lieutenant Dox. It pleases me to see you hale and hearty on this fine day. And to our escorts as well. I feel extra special with so many gathered around, but I hope that it's not necessary."

"Thank you. Our hope is that there's no need, but prefer to be as prepared as possible. I hope all is well with you as well." Dox replied, maintaining a professional but warm demeanor due to the security presence. She was, of course, a pilot, but had also assisted in the training of the ships newest security officers and felt as if presenting as an officer first and foremost was called for.

Dox's first meeting with the goddess Hera was under somewhat extreme circumstances and the perpetually anxious young Romulan wasn't quite sure how the cosmic deity felt about her up until this more pleasant meeting.

"I'm doing wonderfully, thank you. I see that your aura is cleaner, if a bit troubled." Hera placed her hands gingerly on Dox's shoulders and framed her up with a once over. "If you want to stop by and talk about something sometime, I do have literal aeons of wisdom. I might be able to offer some advice? Oooh and I made these delicious cherry brie tortes today. You'll have to try one."

Somewhat sheepishly, as is normal for her, Dox smiled. "Thank you, it... I'd love to. Yes." Then she looked down at herself, allowing a slight chuckle "It's probably always like this, honestly. I'm sure Commander Paris can confirmed that 'a bit troubled' is my default state."

"No more than anyone else, Miss Dox. All right ladies- diplomatic envoy protocol. Remember, we have authorization to be here but no authority save over our own officers. So let us comport ourselves as guests," Rita explained, as Lu and V'nus took the forward guard, while Jablonski and Kruge took up positions in the rear, each 3 meters from their charge.

With that, the entourage stepped out of the airlock and onto the famed space station known as Deep Space 9.

It may have been the first time for some of the crew of the Hera, but for the goddess herself, she had never been on such a unique station. Depressing Cardassian construction, cheery Federation reconstruction and stylings, and earthy Bajoran decorations... It was far and away a very unique place in the galaxy, bustling with life and excitement. The look of awe and wonder on Hera's face was that of someone that had seen a puppy for the first time and wanted nothing more than to play with it. Her restraint was barely contained though, as she gently bounced on her heels, looking this way and that as the group got their bearings.

Looking over, Dox's attempt at a professional demeanor melted at the sight of the Greek Goddess' unbridled excitement. Hera's joy was contagious, possibly literally based on her nature. But Dox smiled regardless as she spoke. "In many respects, this place represents an ideal of the Federation. Multiple cultures that were once at war living and working together, blending and influencing each other. In doing so, we all become more then what we were before."

Moving along the station until they encountered them on the inner habitat ring, the vistas out the viewports were stunning, and the parade of so many alien races reminded Rita Paris of walking the streets of her old home town, San Francisco, when the USS Hera had recently visited Earth. It was a great melting pot of cultures and rac4es that had come together to form a community unlike any other, the dream of the Federation in her day. As was Hera beside her, the ancient astronaut was enchanted by the sights and sounds, the imagery and the otherworldly appeal of it all.

"So, what would you like to do first? We can take in a lap first to see the sights- which is, I might add, a bit of a walk at this point. Or we could take in a meal, or do some shopping... what appeals to you today, ma'am?" Just in case, Rita was specifically avoiding calling Hera by name just in case anyone might recognize her. After all, there were lots of Starfleet personnel who had gone to Meroset 347 to work on repairing the damage her rule had caused, and not all of them were going to be up on the 'new and improved no longer a despot' model Hera.

"Oh my... There's so much to do and so much to see... Is that a tailor's? And are they selling candy on a stick?" While Hera was ogling everything in fascination, something else caught her eye. "They have a temple. I assume it's to the local deities? The Prophets in the Celestial Temple, right? I feel it's only right to stop in to pay our respects at the very least, don't you?"

"Ehhhh..." Rita replied, not really certain how interactions between local deities and not-so-local ones would go. "Maybe we should stay a bit incognito? Goddess traveling in disguise as your people were wont to do back in the old days? Not that we are hiding or that you need to be hidden, but I don't know enough about the local gods to know if they would welcome that sort of thing or see it as an encroachment on their territory. Or if the local worshipers might see that as an affront? I'm, ah, not very well-versed in how different religions interact, I'm afraid."

Her posture returned to a more professional one as Dox interjected. "In my experience, generally not well, Commander."

Hera chuckled nervously. "Ah... With beings in the same class, that's true... If these Prophets are who I think they are though, it might go completely unnoticed or be preferable since I'm as linear as everyone else here. But as is often the case, better to beg forgiveness than ask penance. How about we visit that interesting restaurant over there then? The one with the live food and the... Is that... They're eating it live too? Fascinating. We have got to try some." Hera was back to an almost giddy excitement, motioning towards the Klingon restaurant.

"How do you even pronounce that... oh, worms in sauce? Well, that's interesting cuisine..." Rita was willing, V'nus looked excited, Dox seemed bizarrely comfortable and Lu was apparently interested. Jablonski and Kruge abstained and remained on duty. Petty Officer V'nus politely informed the Commander that the two who abstained should pay to stay, because that was tradition, so as to not dishonor the house of the restaurant. An easy concession, it was settled, and good-naturedly their boisterous Klingon host barked a laugh.

"Fleeters, come to sample the sauce of the Empire? Our birthing vats are in the back, all up to restaurant code, I assure you- we are an honorable establishment. But for Gagh? There is no finer than house pyr'VaH," their host proclaimed. "We have Bithool Gagh, which have feet, Filden Gagh, which squirms, Meshta Gagh, which jumps, Torgud Gagh, which wiggle, Wistan Gagh, which is packed in Targ blood. What's your pleasure to experience today? After all, everyone knows the actual taste of Gagh is revolting, even to we Klingons! It is eaten solely for the unique sensation of experiencing their death-throe spasms within one's mouth and stomach."

Pale as a sheet and wide-eyed, Paris backed out. "I'll... ah, no, thank you. Maybe starving to death on some alien world sure, but not when there's an IDIC pizza over there. But enjoy the cultural experience, I guess?"

"Filden Gagh for me." Dox gestured to the restaurateur, then commented to Rita with a smile, "You grow up on a smuggling ship that spends a lot of time trading with Klingons, you get used to the food. And our guest seems to be excited for the experience."

"Torgud Gagh, and get me two Wistan Gagh to go," V'nus barked at the restaurateur, who got to work producing her order with kegs of slime and crawling serpents.

Hera was absolutely enthralled with the various types, a wide, child-like grin on her face. "I'll go with the wiggly ones and the squirmy ones. Those sound the most fun. You eat them with your bare hands, right?"

"You could use a weapon, but where's the fun in that?" the restaurateur roared with laughter, as did nearly everyone in the restaurant.

The spirited Goddess laughed with them, preferring to eat everything with her hands anyway. "Excellent! I would eat even soup with my hands, if there was a way!" This elicited more laughter from the chef and everyone nearby.

"You can, but you have to root like a Targ for it!" another patron bellowed, and the laughs raced all around- a large part of the Klingon dining experience. Rooting in one of the barrels with some tongs, the restaurateur grabbed up some of one, then more out of another barrel. Setting the bowl before the visiting goddess, the proprietor declared, "Torgun and Filden Gagh for the lady. Sriracha?" the Klingon host offered. "It's non-traditional, but it has caught on, as it helps a lot with the flavor, and it really excites the little bastards."

"If you recommend it, I'll give it a try," Hera declared, willing to go out of her way to give anything a try at this point. Collecting the sauce and her gagh, she joined the others and headed for an open table as the others handled the bill. She then sprinkled some of the Sriracha on the live worms before grabbing a bunch of them and stuffing them into her mouth. "Mmmm... Oh yeah..." It took her a few moments to get them down, but she somehow looked pleased. "Yeah, this reminds me of Powers Camp on Q'onos when I was really young. We ate worms and bugs and those mean Klingon gods almost pulled all my hair out..." Brushing off that last memory, Hera continued eating on her Gagh.

Dox put some of the Siracha sauce on her own Gagh and ate a handful. While it was something she was familiar with, it was, in fact, horrible. But it was worth it to enjoy Hera's childlike excitement.

For her part, it finally got to Rita. "Uh, facilities?" she asked, and seeing the look on her face one of the busboys pointed to a bucket on the floor. "Puke bucket's there if you need to..."

In fact, she did, and the extradimensional explorer hurled up her toenails at the sight of eating Gagh. For as well-traveled as she was, in some things Rita Paris was still a provincial Earthling.

Hera reached out and pat Rita on the shoulder with her free hand, still munching down on her Gagh.

Wiping her hand off, Dox got up and walked quickly to the bar to get a Ginger Ale to bring back to Rita. After a moment, she returned with the drink and a damp towel for the queasy Commander. "Here... this should help settle you. Sorry, Commander."

"No, no, you enjoy, I'll just... I'll be outside,"Rita waved off the offered escort, ensuring that the security detail stayed with the one they were securing as she stepped out onto the promenade for some fresh air. While she prided herself on her open mind and acceptance of other cultures, somehow enjoying feeling things die in her stomach was a cultural difference that she wasn't quite willing to embrace.

Stepping back to the table with an anxious expression, Dox turned to Hera as she took another handful of her meal. "Maybe we should have just had the Pizza. You seem to be enjoying it quite a bit, though."

Hera nodded as she finished her Gagh then wiped her hands and mouth on one of the table napkins. "I found it thoroughly enjoyable. I do have to worry about Rita, though. I will offer her my powers to cure her ailments when we meet back up. And then we can eat pizza together."

Looking towards the direction Rita left in, Dox replied to the Goddess. "She should be okay before too long, I imagine." Then she turned back with a slightly confused expression. "I was under the impression your powers were somewhat taxed. Can you do that without causing yourself harm?"

The matronly goddess thought about it a moment before replying, also looking in the direction Rita had gone. "Interestingly enough, using energy to heal people can restore more energy than it uses, depending on the sacrifice to me. Though with the rate I'm going, it'll take me at least a few years to do something like turning water into wine. As for this Gagh... I have a feeling it's going to come out still alive because of that..."

"That's good, at least. I know Commander Paris wouldn't want you causing yourself any harm." Then Dox considered Hera's last statement and her own stomach churned a bit more as she thought of it. "And to think, we could be eating Cherry Tortes."

Finishing up, V'nus praised the restaurateur and heaped honor upon his house, and made arrangements to pick up her to go order later, as she and her sister would be returning to honor the restaurant often while the Hera was docked here. Wiping off her face, she insured her uniform was clean, then Hera pointed to a bit of Gagh still crawling across her face. Lu had tried it and was for the most part still trying to figure out how she felt about the whole experience.

As for the curvaceous commander herself, Rita was watching the promenade, when she noticed a brown uniform watching her. She offered a nod, and he returned one. Station security, she wagered, likely curious why they had such a retinue for one civilian. Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission, Hera had mentioned earlier about the Prophets and their followers. It applied in this case as well- Rita hadn't coordinated with the local law enforcement, just brought out a posse and started sightseeing. So far they were just keeping an eye on the landing party, so as long as nothing went wrong, they'd be fine.

That was when a crowd started gathering around someone dressed in red Bajoran priest robes that was waving about a book and preaching publicly about the prophets in front of the temple. He was speaking praises upon them as he usually did, but the crowd was a bit bigger than usual and a drunk stumbled out of Quark's into them and bounced off of them into a display in the middle of the walkway that advertised the shops and showed a map of the promenade and was sliced like a guillotine when it shattered.

Without a second thought, Hera was moving and as the crowd turned to look and a Doctor arrived to declare the drunkard dead, Hera was there, touching him with glowing hands.

As soon as Hera had moved, Dox gestured to S'Rina and Lu, who quickly followed.

She poured all the energy she could into the man to heal him as the crowd looked on and even the Doctor was stunned at what his tricorder was saying.

Mere moments after the man had been fatally gored to death by the broken sign, he took in a deep breath, alive once more and completely sober.

Hera, having spent much of her energy, yet having regained much from the sacrifice, collapsed from the shock of the deed.

The priest was the first to speak. "We have witnessed a miracle, but this woman is not of the Prophets! It is as I have said! The false gods have come to displace them!" Instantly, the worshiping crowd turned into an angry mob.

Standing close behind Hera, Dox called over to Paris. "Commander, we have a situation..."

Having had time to assess the situation, Paris had circled, observing the event and keeping at a distance so that she would have a firm grip on the situation while she informed her people to intervene only if absolutely necessary. Station security had jurisdiction, here so it was a tricky situation. Watching Hera struggle to restore life to the man, she let it be- it was Hera’s energy to spend as she saw fit, and Rita wasn’t about to counsel her to not help someone in need. It was a public display, which was exactly what she’d hoped wasn’t going to happen. Which of course meant that was exactly what happened.

“Hold IT!” the voice of Rita Paris rang out in a sharp tone of command that sounded not unlike a parent making a child stop engaging in an activity they knew they were not supposed to be doing.
“First, she is helping this man. Second, who among you can say that it was not by the prophet’s will that she was here today to help this man? And NO ONE has come to replace nor argue with the Prophets, so you can all take a deep breath and CALM DOWN.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Paris could see the security personnel ringing the crowd, prepared to move on a signal, which Rita gave by holding her hands out to calm the mob- which told her people to continue to hold.

It wasn't that easy though, as the priest redoubled his efforts. "Begone, foul temptress of evil! We see you for what you are! Heathens come to displace our faith in that of some pagan sex cult! We will not be tempted by your wicked ways! Come, my followers! Turn your back on those that seek to tempt us!" With that, he turned away from Rita and Hera like some crazy old coot, which kind of confused the crowd. About half followed suit after a few moments, but the rest started dispersing. With his eyes closed though, the old priest paid no mind to those that left.

Gathering Hera up in her arms, Rita signaled for the significantly stronger V’nus to lend a hand, who simply swept Hera up in her arms as if the goddess weighed nothing at all. “We have two choices here, Hera. We make for the ship and lay low, or you are strong enough to keep walking, and we continue our little excursion on the Promenade. I am thinking the former might be the smarter choice, as I see station security is certainly hoping that we will. But we brought you out for a day out, and damned if I’ll run just because someone decided I am a wicked pagan sex cultist…”

Leaning close to Paris, Dox whispered. "Commander, I have an evac lock on our V.I.P. I tap my badge three times and she's home." She received a nod in return, silently affirming that the first officer had heard and understood.

The matronly goddess was slowly recovering and coming around. "Yes... I should be ok in a moment... I'd like to spend a bit more time here if possible. After all, I barely got to spend any quality time with you."

“All right, then. Let’s leave the nice religious people so our sight will not offend, and move down the promenade here, people.” Signaling to the other security officers, they took up positions and began to move as Paris stepped out, V’nus still carrying the weakened goddess in her arms without complaint.

Leaning towards Paris, Dox commented. "Considering the nature of the protestors, perhaps one of the bars or taverns might be ideal as establishments that sell alcohol are generally not frequented by the religious. The mezzanine level would remove us from the majority of the actual bar patrons and afford us a little privacy to recover? There's also a sit-down restaurant, Chez Zimmerman's, at the far end that's higher end and internal, so less foot traffic or prying eyes from the Promenade."

“Brilliant. Lead the way, Miss Dox,” Paris replied with a smile, then she motioned to the entourage to follow Dox’s lead as she maneuvered the landing party to remove themselves from the potential danger of religious zealotry.

As they walked, Dox pulled out her PaDD and messaged Chez Zimmerman's to ensure that there would be seating available in the rear of the establishment as soon as they arrived. The red-headed Romulan walked at Rita's familiar military pace and kept the group to the outside of the walkway and away from as many prying eyes as possible until they reached their destination.

At the vestibule, Dox walked in first to confirm their reservations and handed the host her personal credit account card to ensure their privacy and walked back first to ensure the safety of the location before calling the rest back. "All clear, Commander. Just other diners, a mild crowd. Nothing out of the ordinary. We should be good."

“Set her down, Miss V’nus. I believe our local miracle worker should be all right to walk now, and lets off her some dignity, shall we?” As the Klingon security officer set Hera down on her feet, Rita was there with a steadying arm. “I believe we have your table reserved, madame. We can rest up here for a bit until you are recovered sufficiently to continue the expedition, all right?”

"Thank you, my dear. I... Don't suppose an excuse or apology would be enough to make up for the disturbance I caused, would it?" Hera smiled meekly, a far cry from the strong woman she had seemed mere minutes before. "Either way, this does look like a nice place where we could enjoy a nice tasty dessert or something, don't you think?"

“You saved a man’s life, Hera. I don’t think apologies are particularly appropriate after that,” Rita pointed out, with a degree of practicality. “How the locals chose to interpret or react to it isn’t our concern, so I wouldn’t worry overmuch about it. I’m sure we can find you a nice exotic confectionary here, something that’ll recharge your batteries, as it were.” Looking about, Rita spotted a security officer who was giving her the ‘I’d really appreciate it if you would take the subtle hint and come over for a conversation’ look, so Rita patted the matron goddess on the shoulder.

“You stay here and get yourself something tasty. I need to go have a conversation… Miss Dox, if you wouldn’t mind playing hostess?” While on the surface the words were innocuous enough, it was clear that Paris was handing over the reins of command to the little lieutenant while she had to deal with the station authorities.

"Aye, Commander." Dox replied, noticing the security officer herself as she forced her attention back to the drained Goddess and flagged a waiter for menus. "Is there anything we can get you to help? Anything we can do?"

"Fruit juice and chocolate, I think?" Hera politely requested, taking a seat at her table. "I'll let you pick something out, but please make it something that Rita can enjoy as well."

With that, Dox placed several orders with the somewhat irritated-looking waiter. This was considered the fine dining establishment of the Promenade, but the rotund Romulan had simply ordered Hera a fruit juice and a slice of Chocolate cake, a plain bagel and ginger ale for Rita as the Commander's stomach might still need settling and the same for herself as her own stomach absolutely needed something settling. She gestured for security to place their own orders as she side glanced over to watch Rita and do her best to let her keen ears pick up what it could that might be important.

"You're causing a scene," the gravelly-voiced constable complained as Rita got close.

"Yeah... sorry about that. I'm Ri-" the gold-clad commander began, but he cut her off.

"I know who you are, and the starship you rode in on. I have a pretty good idea I know who THAT is, too. Are you trying to start a jihad on the Promenade?!?" the brown-uniform clad operative asked bluntly.

"Look, she doesn't get to go out much, and I just wanted to give her a chance to stretch her legs. We've got her transporter locked, and she honestly is benevolent- I know, I know. I just wanted to get her out to see some life for a little while." Rita was being earnest, but she also knew she didn't really have a leg to stand on here. The security officer peered over her shoulder at the blasphemous cause of trouble clapping her hands together happily over a rather large slice of chocolate cake, and sighed.

Fixing Rita with a glare, he pointed his finger in her face for emphasis. "She's YOUR responsibility. Anything else goes wrong, any damages occur, I'm holding YOU responsible, not her. Got it?"

"Thank you," Rita replied gently, eyes filled with gratitude. "Completely fair, and appreciated. We won't be out too long."

"I don't care how long you linger, so long as you don't cause any trouble or make more headaches for me," the security officer grumbled, then crossing his arms, watching Rita rejoin the landing party.

"Well, that went splendidly. We're not in hot water and we may continue on our merry way so long as we don't cause any... trouble. So let's... what is that?" Rita pointed to where Jablonski was sitting with a knife and fork in her hand and a steaming steak on a plate in front of her.

"Lieutenant said to order, ma'am. Not to dishonor the restaurant," Jablonski nodded to the Klingon security officer, who nodded back sagely. "Lu's on duty too..."

That was when Crewman Kruge came back from the matter reclamator, pulling an abrupt about-face as she decided clearly her hands needed more washing.

"I figured that the best way to make the establishment happy enough to not give us a hard time about being here was to order enough to justify the table space, Commander," Dox commented.

There was a moment where no one was really certain how this was going to go. Then Commander Paris, shrugged. "Two of you on duty, two of you eating, so you're following protocol. The two on duty are actually paying attention to the operation, not to the rest of you. Thinking ahead to keep the proprietors happy as we are seeking sanctuary within their establishment... well done, one and all. If in the absence of leadership the unit continues to operate efficiently, that is the mark of a well-trained crew. You make your old commander proud," Paris ended by stepping over to the booth and sitting down opposite Hera. "Is that cake...?"

"It is, and it is divine. You must try a bite." Without any hesitation, Hera forked up a bite of the chocolate cake she had been eating on and offered it to Rita, who accepted it and rolled it around in her mouth, enjoying the decadently rich chocolatey goodness.

"It's probably better than the bagel I ordered for you, Commander. Though the bagels aren't bad at all." Dox replied, while her eyes were cast slightly down as she listened intently. "If there are still problems out there, I'm not hearing anything. Hopefully, they've moved on, but I'd recommend taking the long way around the Promenade just to put additional distance between us and them."

"They are locals whipped up by a religious figure, Miss Dox. We'll not skulk and hide, we will go on to live our lives. They are free to do the same. If they are somehow out there in the shadows plotting sinister deeds to our personages, then station security is very capable. Plus we have our retinue of- Miss Jablonski, have you already finished that steak?"

The large humanoid pushed the rest of the baked potato, skin and all, into her mouth with her thumb then nodded silently.

"Get her another one, please. And a bagel you say, Miss Dox? If I could get cream cheese and coffee I'd be having a good afternoon," the buxom blonde scanned the area for a waiter, signaling for coffee and a spread. Sitting down, she eyed the goddess across from her, then took a self-indulgent moment.

"It's always going to be like this for me, isn't it? Just one surprising situation after the next. Like a regular life, just more exotic and intense and often dangerous. Then one day I'll look back and miss how that used to happen, then I'll think about going on some archaeological dig that 'is probably going to be pretty dry', but then..." Rita cocked her head at the goddess across the table over the chocolate cake. "That's how this life of mine works, isn't it?"

"It seems that way," Hera replied, offering Rita another bite of her chocolate cake with a motherly grin.

“That’s it? No sage wisdom, no expansive perspective having seen the length and breadth of the universe, just let me answer my own question, eh?” Rita still took the bite of cake, as it was rather exceptional, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had cake.

Stifling a smile, Dox couldn't help but appreciate Hera's technique there. Letting someone figure out the answer to their own question was, after all, straight out of the 'Rita Paris' playbook.

"Sometimes the best wisdom is to let others figure out their own lives. After all..." The matronly goddess poked a bite of cake into her own mouth. "Sometimes your children need to learn how to fly on their own and answer their own questions for when the parents aren't there. Right?"

“Hmph. That’s been my entire life,” Paris muttered under her breath, then let it go. It was the second thing she had ever asked the goddess, and she’d honestly hoped for a straight answer or some insight, as she'd opened up and asked an honest vulnerable question in front of others to seek some wisdom. But if Hera wasn’t in the mood to play sage, it was her choice. She was under no obligation to actually impart wisdom when asked for it, and Rita understood that. It was something she might have asked her own mother if she'd had one, but as Rita had not for most of her life, she was used to such evasive answers. Changing the subject would change the conversation, so she cast about for a topic.

“So there is a lot of shopping on the promenade here, is there anything you are looking for in particular?” the lost navigator asked, changing course as she was wont to do.

Hera set her fork down, her mood growing a bit sad. She could read the situation easily enough, but she just didn't have what it took sometimes. Reaching out, she placed one hand on Rita's. "I'm sorry. I let you down. You expected some age old pearls of wisdom and I let you down. Sometimes there are no pearls of wisdom to life. Sometimes, life is just life. It's either exciting or it isn't. Not even the Gods can tell you why. But personally, I'd rather have a life full of surprises and seeing the excitement around every corner, myself. It's one of the spices that makes living worthwhile."

“It’s fine,” Rita lied. “As my father used to say, there are no guarantees in life. It was a stupid question anyway. So, where would you like to go next?” As quickly as she opened that particular part of herself, Rita doubled down on it, sealed it up and shut it away again back where it belonged in her psyche.

Listening, Dox frowned feeling Rita's emotional shift. She knew her friend well enough to know when she was hurting, and as hard as she was trying to hide it, Dox knew Rita was hurting. She needed something more from Hera and Hera didn't react how Rita needed her too. After all, at one point in most everyone's lives, you're disappointed by a parent. And when Rita mentioned her Father, Dox began to understand the relationship between Rita and Hera more. Rita wasn't expecting 'age old pearls of wisdom'... she was seeking a mothers comfort.

But Dox kept these thoughts to herself as it wasn't the place for her to interject, in front of Rita's security team. Rank and responsibility came first, after all. So she tried to smile as she continued to listen.

"Wherever we go, as long as it's with you, I'll be happy," Hera replied with a hint of her previously excited smile. "After all, I enjoy my time best if it's with you."

“Awww, shucks,” Rita expressed as she leaned out to check on the sturdy security officer who was polishing off a second steak. “Jablonski, are you ready to go? Ladies are we in the clear? Is the expedition ready to sally forth once more?”

Nodding, Jablonski mopped her face with a napkin and stood, smoothing out her uniform top as she did so. While the majority of the security officers were female, none of them had followed the example of their miniskirted chief and opted for the ‘dress’ option available to Starfleet officers. Stepping into formation, the security personnel formed up the phalanx, prepared to boldly go once more.

“Miss Dox, can you handle the bill please? Put it on my tab… I think I might or might not have what passes for back pay which is somehow still a part of our moneyless society that enables us to interact with the rest of the galaxy?” It sounded like nonsense, but that was Rita's vague understanding of how commerce in the greater galaxy at large.

Dox smiled as she replied. "No worries, Commander. I put this on my personal account when we got here. There's nothing quite like an account linked to Latinum to ensure good service and privacy." The rotund Romulan stood up and straightened her uniform top as she walked over to the waiter to cash out, leaving a generous gratuity before returning to the party.

Latinum was apparently currency to the rest of the universe, to whom a moneyless society held less appeal. Rita wasn't sure- hell, she wasn't sure what it actually was, forget about how it figured as currency. But the complexities of Federation credits to the rest of the universe was equally mystifying to her, so one way or another it seemed the bill was getting paid. Which brought up to Rita just how Dox had money. But between her smuggling days and getting pulled into the piratical world it wasn't that surprising, and really none of her business. Turning about to insure everyone was where they were supposed to be, Paris made a proclamation to set them all in motion.

"Tally ho, crew... let's go see if I have back pay to spend, shall we?"