The Fighting Crows

When it rains...

2408 - Second Dominion War

[USS Otomaro, near the Helaspont nebula]

Here we go again…

The little Efrosian stomped her way across the bridge of the refitted Iwo-Jima class Starship and did her best not to frown. Summoned to see the Captain. How many did that make now?

And the looks from the bridge crew were all too familiar, too. Some sympathetic, some disinterested, and here and there the characteristic ‘serves you right’.

Jin was not one to easily give in to fatalism or go down without a fight, but it wasn’t easy this time. She’d really come to like this ship and the bunch of crazy misfits that made up her squadron, old “Smokey” notwithstanding. Poor guy had gotten himself outfitted with pilots no one else wanted a year short of his retirement and taken it with a cranky old man’s good grace. Meaning, kicking behinds when needed and buying drinks for the kiddos when they behaved. She’d never had a squad leader like that. Or Captain, for that matter. Kuroda ran just about the tightest ship she had ever seen, but still had no qualms about keeping his fighter pilots on a long leash. But apparently even that leash had limits.

Well, at least she wouldn’t take Roosevelt down with her, that much Jin was determined to do. Setting her jaw tightly, she pressed the chime and once more was surprised by the even, melodious voice answering. How such a deep tenor could come from a man barely a hand’s width taller than the tiny Efrosian was perplexing. How someone could sound so relaxed and serene and at the same time commanding enough to make even Jin scramble to the best sort of attention she could muster, that was just plain amazing.

“Ah, Miss Rha-Yaleii.”

The man behind the desk looked up and treated Jin to a long look out of eyes as clear and dark as a shaded forest pond on Efros Delta before gesturing to the chair opposite him. He watched the little pilot carefully slide into the offered seat and studied the sad smile on the lovely face. Collecting the empty glass on his desk, the Captain stood up and walked to the replicator before turning back to the young pilot “Might I offer you some tea?”

Confused, Jin cocked her head and simply nodded. That was an odd way to chew someone out, but she sure wasn’t going to argue.

In short order, two glasses with something that smelled both soothing and fresh to Jin’s sensitive nose were placed on the perfectly spotless desk and the small-framed human with first silver streaks at his temples had settled in his usual alert but oddly relaxed pose.

When the good Captain still wasn’t talking, Jin just decided to get it over with and go on the offensive. “It wasn’t Roosevelt’s fault, Sir. He just sometimes forgets how strong he is. And well, he thinks of me as a friend, and,…” The man calmly held up a hand and Jin’s mouth snapped shut. Damn.

Well, he had a right to be irritated, the big half-Klingon had squarely broken a jaw and a few ribs, not to mention a table and a few other small thingies that had gotten in the way. But he had only wanted to help when that other guy didn’t seem to get the idea that even Efrosians like to have a say in whom they pick as pals. Jin was sure her transfer orders were already signed, war or no war. Maybe this time they’d just dump her onto a poor Marine unit who’d let her fly at Dominion ships until she either went up in flames or toppled over from exhaustion. Those guys didn’t mind trouble. Trouble was their middle name.

“I have received all reports from sickbay and security, Miss Rha-Yaleii.” Meaning, he had already heard all the stories he had wanted to hear and wasn’t interested in what Jin had to say. Oddly familiar, but for some reason the little pilot was just a bit disappointed. Somehow she had expected this Captain to at least hear her out. No matter how hard she tried not to be her normal flirtatious self, she had found wonderful friends in this squadron of pilots nobody else wanted and damn if she hadn’t gotten careless again. How would Rafi say? C’est la vie. Or that other thing about leopards and shorts.

She opened her mouth to say something in Roosevelt’s defense but the hand stopped her again.

“What I need to know is if you wish to press charges.”

“Look, I know as a captain you can’t have your crew just … come again?”

“Against the Lieutenant Commander. I am no JAG officer but I do think harassment and assault would apply.”

“They would?”

One could almost hear mental gears screeching when Jin tried to wrap her head around the turn this conversation had just taken. He was not mad at her but the guy who had been … a bit rude? Okay, pretty damn rude. At least after she had told him she was not interested.

The flicker of a smile crossed Kuroda’s face when the little Efrosian stared at him in open astonishment. “Yes, to the best of my knowledge. One could argue conduct unbecoming an officer as well but I shall leave that to the proper authorities. You have not answered my question.”

“Well, I hadn’t quite expected that so you’ll have to excuse me for being a tad … surprised.”

“Oh?”

She stared at the tea, and back at the calm eyes still studying her. Somehow she had the feeling he was trying really hard not to chuckle at her baffled expression, but he was a tough one to figure out where body language was concerned.

“You are something else, Captain-san.”

If anything, he looked even more amused at that.

“But no, no charges, Sir. I’m used to stuff like that. And I think he got the message now. At least I hope he’ll think about it.”

“I will respect your wishes, Miss Rha-Yaleii.” He picked up the tea with slow, graceful motions and took a sip, never leaving the little pilot out of his sight “But perhaps you should ‘think about it’ as well. Simply because you are used to some people behaving a certain way towards you does not give them the right to do so. Tolerating unacceptable behavior will only encourage more of the same.”

She was about to formulate a reply to that, when the red alert klaxons blared into her poor little ears and Kuroda was out of his chair before she could do so much as blink.

This was bad. Really bad. They had taken such a beating in their last engagement, the Otomaro was little more than a bucket of bolts held together with spit and hope and the curses of a tireless Chief Engineer. And they were only eight hours from the Starbase where they had wanted to put in for repairs. Figures.

Abandoning tea, the serenity of this Ready Room and any thought of ever not trusting this Captain again, Jin scrambled after the human towards the bridge. “Report.”

Gods of Efros, he still sounded as if this was just a minor nuisance. The little Efrosian briefly stopped, looking at the Captain seated calmly in his chair, but when he gave her a brief nod she jumped past the tactical station and darted towards the turbolift. Something about three Jem’Hadar fighters was announced by a cranky tactical officer, and you could bet old Smokey was already chasing the “Fighting Crows” into their birds down there.

And she would have made it, too, only the very moment the lift doors opened all hell broke loose. Torpedo and phaser impacts made the Otomaro lurch and groan, and Jin had to hold on to a science station if she did not want to get thrown backwards into the Andorian with the antennae pressed back into her beautiful snow-white hair.

Like in a dream when everything slows down and becomes surreal, Jin heard the Andorian shout about shields being gone and saw the woman reach for her phaser the very second at least a dozen Jem’Hadar appeared on the bridge.

Why not blow us straight to hell? They could, and without breaking a sweat.

But why blow it up if you could take it home and do whatever with it. They were pretty much sitting ducks either way.

Cursing the fact that she had no weapon on herself, the little Efrosian ran head first into the nearest Jem’Hadar who sent her flying into a console for her troubles. Well, at least he had staggered and made an ‘oof’ sound. Kind of mean to try and shoot her for that, though.

Jin was already airborne again by the time a weapons blast impacted the console, this time aiming a heavy combat boot squarely for that gray, ridged face. All around her energy weapons heated the air on the bridge and added the scent of ozone to the abundance of blood.

A satisfying crunch told her she had hit something that would hurt, but as usual Jin had not thought much further than this and dropped to the floor after having made a big dent into the Jem’Hadar’s face.

Shit.

Much to her surprise, she was scooped up by an Andorian moving at speeds Jin had never thought possible, and she stared wide eyed when a gray scaled intruder went down right next to them because … well obviously Captain-san had thrown another Dominion soldier right into that one. Third Hell and Thunder.

When another weapon swung in their direction, the tiny Efrosian managed to make a warning sound, but the security officer had already seen it and pivoted around, tucking Jin behind her as if the pilot was little more than a child in her arm. The phaser went off the same second Jin felt something impact the Andorian’s chest and she fell to the deck, all air knocked out of her lungs so she could not even scream when the other woman fell on top of her.

Nothing alive felt like this.

Hurting like hell and drenched in blue blood, the little pilot cried angry tears and tried to struggle free when she realized the bridge was suddenly eerily quiet.

She blinked furiously and tried to see what was going on, but the bulk of a very much headless Jem’Hadar spread out before her obscured her sight. Jin breathed deeply although with the terrible stench permeating the bridge that was no easy accomplishment, and ever so carefully dislodged the body of the tall, beautiful security officer that held her pinned to the blood soaked carpet. Muttering both horrible curses and apologies to the Andorian’s spirit in her native language, the little Efrosian managed to lift the weight and pull herself into a crouch, checking for anything still alive.

Right.

When nothing that stirred sounded even vaguely like a Jem’Hadar, she scrambled to her feet.

Dead and badly injured people, broken consoles, and the damn red light that made it so difficult to see properly. Still, someone was moving over there and Jin scrambled towards the helm console where a poor lifeless Benzite was slumped in her chair. But on the floor … the moment she slung her arms around the small person to lift him up, she realized who it was.

“Captain-san.” She murmured, both relieved and shocked when she felt her hands drenched with warm human blood.

“Do we know our status, Miss Rha-Yaleii.”

“You know, usually people ask for a medic first. But no, I don’t. There are three more people breathing from what I can hear and one very faint. Might be the species though, I don’t know, I’m not a … oh for crying out loud will you stop it. You need to sit down.”

She was ready to stomp her foot on the carpet and yell at the man who seemed determined to bleed to death and she didn’t have the faintest idea what to do. They needed medics but the commbadges didn’t work. They needed bridge officers who were trained for this mess and not a little fighter pilot completely out of her element, but none of them was moving.

“Would you help me to the tactical console, please? It seems to be working fairly well.”

He managed to make his voice sound like a man asking for another cup of tea. If Jin hadn’t been so distraught, she’d actually have been incredibly impressed. As it was, she bit her lip and did what her Captain asked, cursing under her breath all the way.

“Yes, I would have to agree.”

“What? You understood … I’m sorry, I’m just…”

“I can venture an educated guess, Miss Rha-Yaleii. Ah, it seems our good engineer has been creative. He must have been really upset to vent main engineering.”

Jin blinked at the console, the profusely bleeding human and wondered whether this was the Starfleet version of the Fifth Hell. At last, her practical side kicked in and she snorted, limping towards one of the wall panels that would probably have a medkit hidden behind them.

When she came back, there was a grim expression on the dark eyed human’s face but she nudged him into one of the science console chairs without allowing for any debate.

“You can court-martial me later.” Jin tried to remember her first aid classes and sighed with relief when she at least recognized some of the stuff in the kit. Human. That meant ... that one there for the pain, that to prevent shock. Now how to stop the damn bleeding…

“And why would I do that?”

There was that faint smile again, although his voice was sounding a bit strained at last.

“Because I’m keeping you from doing whatever it is Captains are supposed to do in a mess like this? I don’t know. Hold still.”

The little Efrosian carefully peeled the tattered remains of the uniform jacket from a gaping wound where apparently an energy weapon had grazed ribs and burned skin, but damn if the man so much as flinched.

“Ah. Is that what you are doing?”

“What? No. I mean, in a way, maybe. Damn, Captain-san, I’m not sure what I’m doing. Just… don’t die on me, alright? This day has been bad enough as it is.”

“Agreed.” Dark almond eyes regarded the muttering Efrosian and finally a calm hand was placed on her shoulder. “You are doing just fine, Miss Rha-Yaleii.”

She looked up at him, ice blue gaze meeting nothing but quiet reassurance, although for a moment she could have sworn there had been something bordering on parental affection in that level voice. “There.” The little woman ran a blood stained hand through her snow-white hair, nodding at the clean bandage on her Captain’s side “Unless you plan to throw any more Jem’Hadar across your bridge, it should hold a while. But if your ribs are poking into a lung, I don’t have anything …”

“It will do. Would you help me to my chair?”

“You’re kidding.”

This time, he outright smiled at her. A bit melancholic, a lot determined, and again there was that odd feeling of fondness that made Jin blink. She was so overwrought; she had to be imagining things.

Muttering softly, she decided not to argue and simply slipped under his extended arm, carefully getting the Captain to his feet. At least they were well matched in size and it was surprisingly easy to keep him balanced as they limped towards the center chair.

“What a funny pair we make.” The little Efrosian couldn’t help but smile wryly while circumnavigating the headless Jem’Hadar and was rewarded with another look of mild amusement from Kuroda.

Over to the left, someone stirred and Jin’s heart made a little leap. Med kit. Maybe she could at least…

Before she got to finish the thought, the turbolift doors burst open and security officers spilled onto the bridge, led by a tall human barking orders. Right behind them, engineers with toolkits bustled along, nudging the guys with phasers out of their ways. When her Captain settled in his chair and pointed the lone, bewildered medical officer in the gaggle towards the figure on the floor who had just begun stirring, Jin felt such a wave of relief she actually slumped forward and felt her head come to rest against the fabric of a uniform.

“Gods of Efros, about time.” She muttered and then blinked rapidly when an arm unexpectedly moved around her shoulders, holding her companionably close for what seemed like a long time but in truth was hardly more than a few seconds.

Behind her, the cracked viewscreen spluttered back to life and an engineer let out a whistle, accompanied by several shouts.

She wanted so badly to stay right where she was, but this mess wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. Forcing herself to snap to, Jin straightened up and turned towards the screen where – she nearly jumped when she saw the ragtag assortment of Valkyries going after two Dominion ships, evading the debris of a third.

A pleading look towards Kuroda was all it took and he nodded, watching the little pilot bolt towards the turbolift.

“Sir?” the security officer had taken over tactical, looking after the tiny woman “We still have intruders on board.”

“Yes.” The Captain allowed for another smile and shooed away the flustered doctor “And one can assume that any who might try to stand between Miss Rha-Yaleii and her fighter will soon cease to be your problem.

Marjani

Disclaimer: If the fact that two ladies can engage in romantic activities without male assistance offends you or causes acute feelings of being left out, please skip reading this log.

2408

[Starbase 27, near Denobula Triaxa]

Stretching lazily, Jin wasn’t quite sure what had woken her up. Usually, her sleep was what people called “like a log” and the blood wine only helped with that. She looked over to the chrono and propped herself up on her elbows, prompting the lovely human next to her to make some unidentifiable sounds.

Her head felt as if a Targ had used it for Tango practice, but the little Efrosian nonetheless placed a friendly kiss on the elegant, dark brown neck and briefly buried her face in the mass of black hair that crowned this Kenyan jewel.

With a colossal yawn, she slid off the bed and made for the replicator, ordering a jug of water. For about two seconds, Jin considered to just pour the whole damn thing over her head but her parched throat won out.

Ah, better.

Next time, she’d stick to the Romulan Ale.

Jin sauntered over to the window and leaned her forehead against the cool surface of the clearsteel. There it was again. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her fists clenched almost without her noticing. Damn.

“What is it, mpenzi?”

Jin chuckled a bit at the term of endearment and then turned back towards the ebony-skinned woman who fixated her with a look that was part concerned, part inviting.

“Not sure, really. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You’re going to catch a cold. But any passing ships will sure appreciate the view.”

The Efrosian gave a low, throaty laugh and then let her appreciative look rest on the human in turn. Marjani had finally decided to join her new friend at the window but had wisely wrapped herself in the white and gray covers. The smaller woman did not resist when the human opened her makeshift robe to wrap it around the both of them, and together they looked out at the stars, long black hair and wild white strands mingling as they leaned their heads against one another.

“You’re still sad about your friends?”

“Hm, yes. No helping that, really. But that’s not … “ she finished the sentence with a string of curses which were drowned by the whooping of a red alert siren.

In unison, the two women jumped away from the window, fishing for the strewn about pieces of their uniforms.

“That’s mine.”

“Figures. Then where’s…” Marjani located her tank top on a shelf and struggled into it, marveling at the speed with which the little Efrosian had managed to get dressed already. When two small hands helped her into the gold shirt, she took another precious second to brush her own finger across the warm skin and then made a leap for her boots.

“You remember those old Valkyries you told me about?”

“Hangar bay three, Jin.” the human’s dark, soulful eyes rested on the pilot’s grim face for a moment and she sighed. No use in trying to talk the little woman out of anything.

It had been just a playful banter at first, after the survivors of the Otomaro had been dropped off here, waiting for reassignment, or in the case of Jin and her fellows, new fighters and a ship to carry them back to the frontlines. After only two days the pilots had become restless and started to severely deplete the alcoholic reserves of every bar on the station, promptly leading to security getting involved on a regular basis.

Now, one could call Marjani’s approach to keeping her new friend out of trouble a bit unorthodox (in fact, the CSO had made it clear he expected this ‘affair’ as he put it to remain under the radar) but it had worked. More or less.

“No point in asking you to be careful, is there?” the human sighed, catching her lover around the waist before she could bolt out the door.

Jin cocked her head and returned the warm embrace for a second. “No, guess not.”

Eyes like dark brown velvet held her gaze while precious seconds slipped away, but Jin figured she owed her friend that much at least. “Don’t get yourself in trouble, you hear? If anyone objects to a few bored pilots borrowing some beat up old fighters, you don’t need to be involved. You of all people don’t need to be involved.”

“Jin...”

“Nope. Don’t want to hear it.”

“Security codes would help, you know.”

“So will a well placed fist. Now run along, they’re probably already throwing fits up there. Bay three, you said.”

“Yes.”

Jin placed one more cheerful kiss on those soft, beautiful lips to make the frown go away and then bounded down the corridor, hitting her commbadge as she went “Cullain, Ruffles, Tell, Vac, Roosevelt, get your asses to hangar bay three on the double. We got company.”

“Roger that, Voodoo” came the half-Klingon’s cheerful reply “Already under way. Got Vac by the scruff, too. Anything else you need?”

“Just if someone objects, run them over and ask no questions.”

“Ah, standard operating procedure then. Roosevelt out.”

When Jin came bolting around the corner, she already saw a poor Zakdorn decked out on the floor and a Benzite was looking wide-eyed at the Klingon barking orders towards a few bewildered technicians.

“You can’t do that!”

“Actually,” Jin purred “He can. And he’s good at it, too.”

The rest of the squadron, or rather what was left of the ‘Fighting Crows’ came tumbling through the doors and Jin grinned at their ruffled appearance. Their eyes though were as clear and sharp as ever, hung over as the lot of them was. Just then, the station vibrated and rocked, announcing the arrival of however many Dominion ships.

“Ordinance, Roosevelt?”

“Lookin’ good, Voodoo. Nothin’ fancy, but torpedoes to boot.” The Klingon looked positively happy as another group of the ground crew scrambled out of his way and the tiny Trill named VAC (Valkyrie Assisted Crazy-ass, if you must know) left his buddy’s shadow to clamber up the ladder to one of the fighters.

“You can’t DO that.” the Benzite Ensign repeated himself, possibly hoping the small Efrosian would be more sympathetic. “Listen, buddy.” Jin waved her friends down to the deck, not that they needed the invitation, and smiled at the Ensign ever so sweetly “You can either open those doors for us or we’ll do it ourselves.”

Patting the near hyperventilating Benzite on the shoulder, she darted to the first fighter in line and cocked her head in surprise when a Vulcan senior NCO thrust a helmet into her arms.

“I shall speak with the Ensign. One battle cruiser and eight Jem’Hadar fighters confirmed. Starship Lafayette has engaged the enemy, USS Trevix and Huron are under way.”

“Battle cruiser, huh? Don’t I feel special now.” she nodded at the tall male and snickered when he quirked a brow at her “Thank you, Chief. Any other friendlies in the area?”

“None but us chickens!” Ruffles crowed from her ladder, struggling to stuff the helmet over her wild copper-red mane.

“Indeed.” The Vulcan said levelly, even as the station rocked under another impact. “Which is why I am inclined to interpret your sudden arrival here as officers anticipating orders. Or carrying out orders which may have been delayed due to…” the odd sound of straining shields could be heard even in here and Jin could have sworn the man looked annoyed “… circumstances.”

By the time Jin had struggled into seat and helmet and completed one of her fastest preflights ever, the bay doors slid open and the old battered fighter was hovering over the deck, impulse engines aglow.

“How you want to play this, pappy?”

“Squad’s yours, Voodoo.” came a grumpy voice over the comm.

“Negative, Tell. You’re the most senior.”

“Stop arguing and GO”

“Roger that. Flight, the “Fighting Chickens” are heading out. Tight formation, kids, speed’s the mantra for today.” A few snickers and mumbled ‘roger’s’ answered her and the Vulcan Crew Chief signaled them they could launch without butting head first into a hostile. At least for the next 4 to 6 seconds. As the old fighters went screaming out into the cold vacuum of space, Jin briefly wondered if the Vulcan had used logic on the annoying Benzite or settled for a neck pinch instead.

“Oh SHIT.”

“What the…”

“Word!”

They had emerged right underneath the behemoth’s underbelly and for just a second, Jin considered smacking the Vulcan NCO behind his admittedly cute ears. Provided they got out of this alive.

“Hey, not lackin’ for targets at least. Tally Ho on all fronts!”

“Today IS a good day to die!”

“Oh, shut it, Roosevelt.”

“Right kids, since we got ourselves a big fat target, have at it.” Jin banked her old Valkyrie to port, half expecting it might lose a few screws in the process, and headed straight for the sickly purple glow of the cruiser’s weapons array. “Doin’ fine, old girl.” she murmured, patting the straining ship with gloved fingers.

Volley after volley thundered into the gigantic Dominion cruiser’s shields, but the only small victory the little fighters could achieve before three Jem’Hadar fighters that hopelessly outgunned them required their full attention, was that obviously the big beast’s targeting sensors had suffered.

Several torpedoes and phaser beams struck into emptiness or merely grazed the station’s shields, prompting a hearty roar of satisfaction from Roosevelt.

“Tell, two bandits at your six!”

“Oh, you think I didn’t NOTICE? Less yapping, more shooting, Ruffles!”

“Roger that, pappy.”

Jin could tell from the sheer ferocity of her friends’ attack runs that they had a score to settle. And although she had a headache about the size of Qo’noS, the little Efrosian focused on the job at hand, firing her torpedoes with deadly precision. That is, until through the haze of another Dominion fighter being reduced to scrap metal, she saw Ruffles’ bird spin out of control, venting plasma. And Vac racing after the fighter that was about to finish the wounded enemy, three more bandits behind him, vying for the kill.

“Dammit Vac! What do you think you’re…”

He didn’t listen. Nothing new there. Jin’s HUD beeped happily with acquired targets and she raced after the fighters chasing Vac, ever faithful Cullain and Roosevelt right behind her, afterburners at full.

But by the time they had finished off the four targets, a second Valkyrie drifted lifeless between the wreckage of Dominion warships, and a slow pass over Ruffles’ position only confirmed a limp human slumped in the Valkyrie’s seat.

A green veil of rage threatened to descend over the little pilot, something she had only ever felt once before in her life, when their ship along with so many of their comrades had gone up in flames over some gods-forsaken planet and left her stranded and alone.

It had been only her and her wingman, faithful Nemo having saved her from the killing shot at the cost of his own shields, sticking to his friend even into the middle of a freezing forest. They had taken what they could from the wrecks of their fighters and tried to jury-rig a distress beacon, but the only answer they got was a group of Jem’Hadar coming to finish the job. Her stomach revolting, Jin remembered the mad fit of fury that had made her tear two of the gray scaled things into pieces, quite literally, after they had left Nemo with a giant hole in his chest.

Standing amidst torn off limbs and bleeding, stinking corpses, the small Efrosian had lost whatever food she might have had for the past several days and then cried bitter tears over her friend’s body. If this was what her ‘other’ heritage brought with it, Jin didn’t want any part of it.

Gritting her teeth, Jin banked away and decided to let out her anger on the remaining Dominion ships. If there was a special hell reserved for Jem’Hadar, she was going to see it would get crowded there today.

“Voodoo, the Lafayette looks a bit banged up.”

“Ya think?”

If having one warp nacelle tumbling away from you counted as ‘a bit banged up‘, Jin didn’t want to know what qualified as ‘totally screwed’.

“Diamond formation, gentlemen, and let’s take some pressure off them.”

In the good old tradition of the cavalry arriving just in the nick of time (meaning when everyone else was just about finished without them, either way), the Trevix and Huron came in phasers ablaze just as Roosevelt proudly yelled another “Quapla’!” and Jin’s Valkyrie made that odd sound that said ‘stick a fork in me, I’m done’.

Well, the old lady had held up nicely, all things considered. Since she was fresh out of torpedoes anyways, Jin was quite content to let the poor overheated engines whine down and watch from the sidelines as the gigantic battle cruiser was blown to kingdom come. Nicely, too. Very dramatic and all, the way the Trevix came flying through the debris after she’d just cracked the damn thing in two.

“USS Huron to unidentified fighter craft. Do you require assistance?”

“Duh.”

“Unidentified fighter, please repeat. We did not copy that.”

“Huron, this is Voodoo. Yes, I’d appreciate a lift, if it’s no bother.”

“Roger that, Voodoo. No bother at all. Nice job you did here, only left us some scraps to clean up.”

If that’s what you wanted to call it….

As the tractor beam latched on to her fighter that was by now really just an assemblage of wrecked metal, Jin leaned back in her seat and sighed.

[Several hours later, Starbase 27, Lt Marjani Anyango’s quarters]

“I told you not to stick out your neck for us, Marjani. Yelling at your CO is not a smart career move.”

“Well, he was wrong. Damn it, Jin, you and your friends may well have saved our necks here.”

“It’s the ‘may have’ part that’s the problem. From where he’s standing, we commandeered his fighters and wrecked them, not to mention we used two of his personnel as punching bags. If in the process we also wrecked a few Dominion ships, that merely counts as mitigating circumstances.”

“Your two friends could have died, mpenzi.” Marjani sat on her bed, her dark velvety gaze resting on the small Efrosian. There were still drops of water slowly rolling down Jin’s elegant neck, and her warm golden skin tone gave her the appearance of one of those ancient idols that had once graced lavish temples and now stood silently in museums on Marjani’s home continent. Of course the fact that her Efrosian lover was adorned with nothing more than a crystal glass containing Kenyan ale and now moved towards the bed with the easy grace of a leopard on the prowl made it difficult for Marjani to continue the argument.

“But they didn’t.” Jin heaved a small, content sigh and ran her hand through the beautiful human’s hair. Smiling dreamily, she brushed her fingertips across full, soft lips, down across Marjani’s chin, under the loose Kaftan along a marvelously shaped shoulder. “Matter of fact..” she murmured, lowering her lips to follow the trail of her fingers “… Ruffles has already requested her bed to be moved to O’Leary’s bar and Vac has reportedly chased a nurse all the way to the CMO’s office. So, where did we leave off?”

“Leave off?”

“In the shower. I think you mentioned something about certain maneuvers being a bit too dangerous in there?”

“Jin…”

“Hmmm?” Having freed the lovely dark shoulders from any pesky fabric, the Efrosian pilot continued her slow, enticing touch along a sumptuously shaped waist.

“What am I going to do when you leave? They’re going to send you right back out there, and….”

Jin silenced her lover with a single fingertip to precious lips “There was a friend at the academy who thought I should learn about the other part of my equation.”

“Friend?”

“Hush. Most of it was mystical nonsense, but one thing I remember that made sense. When they say Kaiidth, they don’t mean you can’t change what is. What they mean is, yesterday is gone, tomorrow doesn’t exist. There is only now.”

“Only now.” Marjani repeated in a soft whisper, but there was a tear glistening on one of her silken black eyelashes.

Your carriage awaits, sir

2412

[Shuttle ‘Dabur’, currently on board USS Quantum Fury]

Shuttle duty. So that’s what they used broken down pilots with a limp and a record that made seasoned combat officers cringe for these days. How cliché.

Humming softly to herself, the little Efrosian dove head first into the maintenance hatch, her short milk white hair already coated with grease and a peppering of unidentifiable substances as she banged the coil spanner against a stubborn conduit housing.

Not that she objected too much. It was better than cooling her proverbial heels or being pestered by an army of doctors who insisted that leg still had a long way to go – something Jin never failed to prove right by making it go indeed. Go straight to the nearest watering hole in fact. They had probably sent her out here because the guild of barmen had issued an urgent plea to Starfleet to at least change medical leave to ‘light duty only’.

Kanryth. Now why did that name ring a bell? And what had the poor guy done that he’d be flown back to the Sol system in this for all the world sorry excuse for a rust bucket? Worse, stuck with a fighter pilot bored out of her admittedly adorable skull and altogether much too cheerful about the bit of diversion? Nice little ship, too, the Fury. Too bad she wouldn’t have time to explore it. Or at least visit what qualified as the bar around here.

Kanryth. Funny name for a Rihanha. Still, something kept poking at the back of her mind. Ah, well, if it were important, she’d remember. Probably. And if someone had thought it important she knew more about the Commander who was to be her esteemed passenger they’d have told her. Probably. Maybe.

“Fifth hell and fireflies!” there went that gelpack. She’d told Sabre you can’t just take what looks nice and stuff it into a likely spot, trusting the ship would know what to do with it. Especially if same nice looking thing was never designed to be squeezed among components 50 years its senior just so you could fly fast and make the replicator serve cupcakes with whiskey frosting.

Jin put out the small fire by the time-tested method of swatting against it with her uniform sleeve, sneezing as the scorched fabric’s stench invaded her sensitive nose. Seemed like they’d be stuck with warp five after all. Pity.

The sound of footsteps alerted the little Efrosian that the nice engineer had probably returned to either flirt with her again or – beard of the Cloud God, maybe even bring her the isolinear chips she’d asked for rather than another offer to replicate her a new uniform so she’d look like a Starfleet officer and not something that had been run over by a targ after suffering an industrial accident – and she wiggled backwards, kicking her legs in an effort to get unstuck.

“Took you long enough. Give it a pull, will you?” kicking up her feet to reinforce the message, Jin realized she probably presented a rather charming view of her aft section at the moment which might explain why the requested tug was not yet forthcoming. “Of course you can just leave me stuck here and appreciate the scenery, but in that case I’d appreciate a glass of rum while I wait for rescue.”

A whoosh of air echoed through the shuttle sounding nearly like the latch to the airlock had sprung a leak. Fortunately the Dabur was in the Quantum Fury's cramped shuttle bay and not the vacuum of space. No, the sound wasn't from a leaking airlock instead it emanated from a young horrified technician as he noticed the rear end scenery while standing next to the commander "Uh...uh...uh" he muttered his eyes darting from the apple bottom to the commander and back again "this is not appropriate...what are you doing?!"

Khiy stood there silently as the young technician stammered. His eyes focused just above the conduit keenly avoiding the scenery. He waited for a moment as the pilot wiggled around a bit apparently unable to free herself. Finally he looked at the young technician and pointed at the Efrosian's hind end "get her out of there."

"Yes sir." He ran up grabbing one of the woman's legs and tugging on it. As he pulled harder he found her to be wedged quite securely into the conduit "I'm having some trouble sir..."

Letting out an agitated sigh the short Romulan dropped his bag and walked up to the woman grabbing her other hind leg before yanking on it violently. Abruptly the woman plopped free of her prison while the force of her momentum sent Khiy falling onto the shuttle's dirty deck. The Efrosian on the other hand cushioned her landing by falling on top of the commander.

Khiy looked up at her wincing "this is where you get off me."

Not appropriate? What was the man talking about? Giving a stuck colleague a hand or getting stuck in the first place? A bit daft from where Jin was standing – or not standing, as it were – but she wasn’t going to argue with an otherwise friendly guy. And she thought it was rather obvious what she was doing, but people could be funny like that sometimes. At long last some more practically inclined guy seemed to have arrived and with a grateful sigh the tiny Efrosian tried to relax as careful hands began to apply not even enough force to dislodge a treebear from a branch. Not helpful.

Feeling the fabric of her uniform jacket tear along a pesky splint of metal, the little pilot was about to tell the nice but useless male to stop acting like she were made from glass when a much more forceful grip made the world surge forward in a rush.

Now that’s more like it.

Oy.

Soft landing. Warm. Smelling quite nice. Not the guy from before. Well, of course not the guy from before, because that one was looking down on her with what Jin could only describe as a mortified expression. Like he’d never seen a fellow officer with a slightly messed up uniform before. Alright, bit more than slightly. Turning her glacier blue eyes to her knight in not so shiny armor, the Efrosian offered a dazzling smile and rolled off the commander as requested. “Right you are, sir. Thanks for the rescue.”

Pointy ears and a travel bag. Not to mention vibes that to Jin’s keen senses tugged a familiar string. Bit of a serious one, though, from the looks of it. Well, if this wasn’t her passenger she’d buy a hat and eat it.

“Ready to go, sir? Nniehv idh ra iy’tassiudh nnearh.” (Your shuttlecraft is completely/in excellent shape/ready) Of course the evidence suggested quite the contrary and Jin’s accent had not exactly improved – melodious, yes, but it had rarely failed to make Aev look at the sky in exasperation. Or laugh at her. Still, it never hurt to try and be friendly. Especially if you were going to be stuck with one another for a while.

Jumping to her feet with the unconcerned grace of a cat who’d just fallen out of a tree and considers it no more than a small setback, Jin hoisted the abandoned bag into a storage compartment and nonchalantly kicked the spluttering console next to her. There. Better.

She stopped short of hoisting the kind commander to his feet, however, merely extending a hand should he want it, head tilted to the side and an encouraging smile on her soot-stained face.

Pushing himself onto his feet Khiy grabbed his bag slinging the strap over his shoulder and turned his attention back to the aggravating Efrosian. "Do not speak to me in that tongue." He stated with a cold tone not attempting to disguise his disdain. Pointing at the gangway at the rear of the shuttle he motioned for the technician to leave "thank you crewman. Dismissed."

The technician nodded his head and started to leave but stopped halfway down the gangway and turned up looking at the commander "sir...I know it's not my place but I think it might be safer if you waited and took one of the Fury's shuttles. This thing may not make it back to earth, and, well...that pilot seems to have a few loose screws...if you understand what I am saying?"

"I understand clearly." His eyes met the Efrosian's "however, it will be fine. Thank you for your concern. Dismissed." Khiy reiterated and the technician nodded continuing on his way. When the technician was out of sight Khiy grimaced at the Efrosian "you should have more respect for your position and wear a proper uniform." He walked up to her "this will be a long trip. Do not annoy me with your frivolities. Understood?"

Standing barely two inches taller than Jin, the astonishingly dark-eyed man still managed to look like a tiger after someone had disturbed his nap. Well, a small tiger. Rather cute, really.

Holding the Rihannsu man’s gaze that dripped with disdain and that familiar, aloof ‘any closer and there’s going to be issues’ expression, the Efrosian couldn’t hide the twinkle of amusement as the technician so reluctantly left the shuttle. Loose screws indeed. And he’d not even seen the really interesting parts of the shuttle. Still, would do no harm to inconspicuously let the remnants of that lamp disappear, souvenir of Shiva’s encounter with a jolly Klingon. The Romulan Ale at least was already safely hidden. Too bad though the commander would probably not have a taste for it, judging from how he had reacted to her amiable words. Talk about fur bristling.

“And what position would that be, commander?” no, she wasn’t going to antagonize him any more by laughing, though the temptation was there. Poor man seemed put out enough already. Instead, Jin settled for tossing the offending uniform jacket, ripped and stained as it was, over a battered looking chair and allowed herself the tiniest smirk as the commander walked up to her, radiating irritation along with his pleasant scent.

For a moment, an almost mild light shone in the depth of glacier blue eyes, slanted, white-golden eyebrows climbing by just a fraction. “They didn’t tell you you’d be saddled with a fighter pilot, did they? One with a bum leg, too. Ah, well. Welcome on board Dabur.”

Limping towards the pilot seat, the tiny Efrosian swatted at yet another panel that made rather odd chirping sounds and against all expectation beside hers, the rear hatch closed smoothly and with barely a sound. May not make it back to earth. Jin snickered softly to herself and brought up the engines. Power hummed, the sound of an angel yawning and stretching its wings.

“Have a seat, she tends to get a bit enthusiastic out of the gate.”

Frivolities. Really, if he wasn’t so adorable with his fur standing on end like that, trying so hard to look cold and disdainful while he probably wanted to wring her neck - or at least give her a good swat behind the upswept ear - she’d feel terribly tempted to demonstrate how fun frivolities could be. Say, by flying out of his shuttle bay upside down. “Last chance to take your crewman’s offer. Of course you could always decide to indulge in some frivolity yourself and open that panel to your left. Saurian brandy’s on the house. I’ve a feeling you’ll need it”

Khiy eyed her as he moved shotgun "as long as this fighter pilot remembers this is a shuttle and not a fighter I doubt I will have any issues." He glanced at the panel "and I do not drink alcohol."

“Who ever said it can’t be both?” this time, the little pilot’s smile was outright beatific before her features settled into calm concentration. Not a second after they were cleared for departure Dabur shot out into the star-speckled darkness, a hawk let loose from its perch. A mightily bedraggled looking bird, shedding feathers as it went. But appearance can be deceiving.

No alcohol? Drat. Now what was she going to feed the poor man? Better fix that replicator after all and purge Sabre’s creative subroutines while she was at it.

Your carriage awaits, sir Part II

[Shuttle "Dabur"]

Antarian cider. Chech’tluth. Ktarian beer. Scotch. More Scotch. Andorian ale. More ale. Rhennish? Good vintage, though. Something … green.

Pulling a length of fabric out between assorted bottles, Jin’s puzzled frown turned into a shrug before she tossed the useless lace and silk thing over her shoulder, draping it artfully over a probably no less bewildered commander Kanryth. Gods of Efros, the man moved silently as a cat. A cat with a negligee caught over one pointy ear and cascading down across his chest.

Still nothing. Though she was going to have a word with Rascal, stuffing her lingerie in the crates with the booze like that. Genius. All that cushioning, she could probably fly this baby through an ion storm and not crack a single bottle.

“Come on, Sabre. I know you keep the cumshaw around here somewhere.” Unless of course the last bunch of pilots using this bucket had eaten it all. Considering the dent they had made in the Romulan Ale reserves, that was a distinct possibility. Lorvan crackers. Of course they would have left the Lorvan crackers.

“Here you go, sir.” Jin nonchalantly tossed the little box with crackers at the Rihanha who caught it in mid-air, probably owing to reflex more than to an actual wish to consume cardboard coated with something sticky. “Looks good on you, by the way. Color goes nicely with your eyes.”

Couldn’t be helped, she’d have to fix the replicator unless her widely broadcast signal attracted some trade ship or other in search for rare and delicious vintages.

Abandoning her futile search for non-alcoholic beverages or food that her travel companion might actually approve of, the tiny pilot straightened and shut the crate.

Khiy picked the article of clothing off his head and dismissively tossed it to the deck. There were many things in world that tended to aggravate the undersized Romulan and this woman was quickly working her way up that list. The prospect of being stuck with her on the long trip to Mars sent a shiver down his spine.

Another thing came hurtling towards him. This time he caught it midair- studied the box. Lorvan crackers? He frowned and tossed them to the deck. "No need to bother yourself, I will be fine." He stated and made his way to his bag.

He spent a few minutes going through his things before pulling out two heavily decorated daggers. Khiy's eyes moved towards the woman momentarily before focusing back on the duffle bag where he then pulled out a small package of the standard Starfleet MRE. Using one of the daggers to remove the cover.

Looking at the Efrosian again Khiy walked over to her, grabbed one of the bottles nearby, marked Andorian ale, and then returned. Popping off the cork he poured the beverage into the small MRE heater bag. He waited for a few seconds and then slid the MRE into the heater- suddenly a coil of blue and green flames spilled out and reached for the Efrosian but were quickly squelched by Khiy nonchalantly sealing the bag and waiting for his MRE to warm.

Perched on top of a crate Jin watched with amused interest as the commander rummaged in his bag – Kalen, really? Quite something to drag around when you went alley cat the second anyone spoke Romulan. She offered no protest at what was in essence waste of perfectly good ale. But the little bit of pyrotechnics sparked a melodious laugh after all.

Well, now. Perhaps he wasn’t an entirely hopeless case. Still, Jin doubted the poor man would know fun if you tied him to a barrel of whiskey and then dropped him into a mud bath with half a dozen sultry Denobulans and an Andorian klazh.

“Oh, it’s no bother.” Jin absentmindedly rubbed her leg, studying the Rihanha crouched over his rapidly heating meal. “All part of the service on board ‘Furies shuttle and wholesale destruction company’.”

An almost mild smile playing across her lips, the tiny pilot hopped off the crate and managed not to smirk as the maneuver nearly made her crash land on the commander’s lap. “And since we pride ourselves on our hospitality even towards people inclined to throw the book including shelf at us, I’ll go and have another look at that replicator. Any minor explosions or sounds of targ in distress are no cause for alarm, it’s probably just Sabre’s sense of humor at work.”

Even limping, the little Efrosian couldn’t quite hide the playful sway to her hips as she sauntered towards the bent and battered access panel, picking up the crackers and the discarded silk along the way. The former would at least make a good missile in an emergency and the latter, while made for a much taller woman, was still better than the pathetic rags she was wearing and that so offended the commander.

One thing at a time, though.

Hands reaching for scorched conduits and greasy remnants of a gelpack, Jin hummed a soft, almost haunting melody to herself, interrupted on occasion by the quacking of terran waterfowl as she triggered hidden subroutines.

The first thing to materialize on the replicator’s shiny surface was a cake which promptly exploded, rendering commander Kanryth’s uniform, if not as badly abused as Jin’s, at least far from its formerly impeccable appearance. Next time David was so much as within five lightyears, there would be ... words. At least he had programmed strawberry. With gin frosting, the bastard.

“Sorry about that, commander. Please direct complaints to the terran embassy on Efros Delta. Shower’s through there, real water available once you bypass Rascal’s Denobulan rose petal program.”

If gazes could kill the Efrosian woman would have probably vaporized within a millisecond under Khiy's intense glare. Sliding his hand across his face he looked down at the pink particles of sugar and flour before shaking the mess off his hands and standing up. "You are reckless- it is a wonder to me how you ended up passing basic training." His tone was sour, certainly too much so for all the sticky sweetness that now covered him to help with. Khiy walked over to his bag and pulled out a couple of towels using them to get the cake debris off his hands. Once his hands were relatively clean he pulled out a set of training clothes and with complete disregard for his shuttle mate began to disrobe.

"There are many things that I have a low tolerance for and your lack of professionalism is one of them. If you do not want to end up restrained for the rest of this trip I suggest you remember the purpose of that uni..." he paused biting his bottom lip as he stared at her tattered garb. This woman will drive me insane! He thought in utter despair.

“So, not only book and shelf but the entire library?” utterly unfazed despite the fact she was sharing close quarters with a furious Rihanha in a proceeding state of undress, and her poor excuse for a uniform now sported splotches of strawberry, Jin scooped up some of the frosting that decorated the bulkhead next to her and subjected it to a critical look.

“Though I do agree it’s reckless to waste perfectly good gin just to get back at me for putting that cactus in his bed. It’s not like I knew he was going to bring back a date exactly that evening.”

Still, the lovely Efrosian felt a little bad the poor guy had effectively been caught in the crossfire of Sabre’s revenge, even though he did look rather adorable, all disheveled and with pink dots in his hair. Purpose of that uniform indeed. When he was decidedly out of uniform himself. But it would have been a tad ungracious to mention that right now.

Suppressing the urge to pat the distraught man on the shoulder – last time she had tried that as a means to soothe an unhappy Romulan the good erie`Riov had ended up in a tree, but not before making a spirited attempt to take off her arm – Jin settled for pouring herself a glass of Saurian brandy.

“Look on the bright side – David is not a mean guy so that was probably the last exploding cake. Which means we have a working replicator now and you don’t have to eat cardboard.”

Khiy simply shook his head at the woman. How could such an undisciplined person become a pilot- then again she had been relegated to shuttle duty for a reason. Somewhat regretting his decision not to take one of the Fury's own shuttles he returned to the cockpit and sat down in the copilot's chair- his eyes gazing at the passing stars.

Oh, so he was going to keep an eye on the instruments for a little? How nice, especially after that little mishap there. Seeing as he hadn’t been at all shy about changing his clothes, Jin assumed – quite reasonably in her mind – he wouldn’t object to her doing the same, and in short order a tattered uniform went sailing over a chair.

“Do me a favor and don’t push any buttons marked ‘interesting’ and most definitely stay away from ‘vox dei’ unless we’ve got Klingons with a grudge on our tail. I’ll be in the shower if you need anything.”

And with that, Jin tossed her underwear onto the pathetic remnants of a cake and limped through the little door, promptly greeted by a shower of Denobulan rose petals.

[a few interesting days later …]

“See, no need for restraints after all. Not that I wouldn’t have been curious about the experience, mind you.” Jin stretched lazily in the pilot seat, resisting the urge to massage her leg. At long last she was at least outwardly resembling a Starfleet officer, what with the freshly replicated uniform and her white-golden hair no longer looking like an Efrosian porcupine after an encounter with a plasma stream. And the lingering scent of roses wasn’t so bad. Especially since the good commander smelled not much different. Suited him, too, in an odd but endearing kind of way.

In a shower of rainbow light Dabur dropped out of warp and coasted to port, making a straight line for the fourth planet. The familiar vista laid out before her Jin nodded to Jupiter’s massive bulk as if in greeting and acknowledged a band of passing Kaneda fighters by diving into the middle of their formation. The resulting curses and playful threats prompted a musical laugh which in turn was promptly recognized by the squadron’s leader.

“Voodoo. Four Deities help us, Starfleet Medical cut ya loose?”

“Ford you slacker, since when are the Fighting Chickens so easily startled? And yes, they figured better a limping pilot out here than a cranky one dustbound. Got a delivery to make, but I have some Andorian Ale with your name on it.”

“And that’s why I love you dearly. Need an escort, ace?”

“Nah, but directions for a good geedunk on Mars.”

“Do you one better. Meet me at the bar, usual time.”

“Wilco. Now get off my channel before Utopia Planitia blows a gasket.”

Humming a happy little melody, Jin tapped away at the console and confirmed their approach, watching with interest as they were diverted towards the massive bulk of a Magellan-class starship. One that had seen better days from the looks of it, but still impressive.

“Charlie time in five. Please secure any alcoholic beverages and exotic pets. Oh, and commander? Just thought I’d mention there’s still a rose petal behind your eartip.”

Old friends and new pals

I am an aviator, I will not drink

But if I do, I will not get drunk

But if I do, I will not stagger

But if I do, I will not fall down

But if I do, I will fall face first so no one can see my wings.

(The pilot's time honored pledge -From the first day of manned flight until the last star blinks out)

[White Horse Tavern, Ares City, Mars]

There are many bars like this all over the quadrant. They are called disreputable, dark, filled with rogues and heavy drinkers. They’re also called cozy, laid-back and stocked with the finest beverages credits or latinum can buy. It all depends on whom you ask.

The White Horse’s fame largely depended on the fact that it sported an antique pool table in addition to the largest variety of teas within 800 lightyears. And if people were surprised to see a stoic Vulcan behind the bar, missing half an ear and patiently pouring Klingon bloodwine, they tended to get over it once they had a taste of the establishment’s own version of IDIC – namely the Vulcan spiced tea with terran rum.

None of the regulars were surprised to see two people who practically had ‘fighter pilot’ flashing in bright letters above their heads walk through the old oak doors. Nor did they so much as bat eyelids or membranes when the smaller, limping one merely gestured to the man behind the massive counter after calling out a friendly greeting in his language. What made them clutch their respective drinks and tense in that ‘aww, shit, here goes my peace and quiet’ way was the sight of said tiny pilot jumping onto the back of a Klingon twice her size.

“quSDaQ ba’ ly’’a’! Damn fricatives.”

“Voodoo!”

“The one and only.”

Amidst general huffs and ‘I knew that was going to happen’ expressions, the massive Klingon picked up his tiny friend and shook her until Jin’s teeth fairly rattled before pulling her into a bone-crushing hug.

“Hand of Kahless! Ah, but it’s good to see you! Sotek! Sotek! Look who’s here!”

“Indeed Mr Roosevelt, I am already well aware of Miss Voodoo’s presence.”

“Ah, bljath ’e’ ylmev. And where’s that firewine you promised?”

“I must point out that I made no express assurances but rather stated said beverage was available upon request.”

“Consider it requested, you old pirate. Ford! Grab a chair! Vac! Stop looking like a grishnar cat that’s fallen into a barrel with fresh Gagh and let the girl sit down!”

“Love to, Roosevelt. Soon as you put her down.”

“Oh.”

Wheezing a little but no worse for wear, Jin flopped down in the large, cushioned rattan chair vacated by a Trill not much taller than the little pilot herself while a huge Klingon hand affectionately ruffled her white-golden hair.

“Cullain and Teflon send their love.”

“Mmh still out flying circles in the Typhon Sector?”

“Fraid so. But what about you? I thought once Starfleet medical set you loose you’d make a straight line back to your wing.”

“They didn’t exactly set me loose, Roosevelt.”

Several drinks had appeared on the table as if by magic and Jin noted with a snort of amusement that not only had Sotek remembered how much she liked that odd Vulcan concoction of his, but that apparently he still kept some Levithi nuts around. “Yea, about that COD driving thing …” toying with the glass in his hand, the Betazoid dubbed FORD (don’t ask) shot Jin a sideways look and then shrugged when the emotional climate seemed to go from Jalaran jungle warm to Efrosian polar caps in a single heartbeat. “Scuttlebutt has it you delivered little ‘stick where the sun don’t shine’ Admiralsson Kanryth for a family reunion.”

“Oh. That’s why the name sounded familiar.” Jin sniffed the hot beverage while mental gears shifted, trying to find a connection between the delivery of a cute but perpetually unhappy Romulan and an admiral with a reputation as an "Ice Queen". Not really her concern, but among the few things fighter pilots can be relied upon is that they can smell booze and interesting trouble long before they acquire visual confirmation. Obviously, her pals had already picked up the scent as well.

“If you’re asking if I’m in whatever loop there is, answer’s no. Chances are you know more than I do, what with being at the source of said scuttlebutt.”

“Duj tIvoqtaH.” Roosevelt declared, downing his wine in one go before he slammed down the tumbler, making a face when a b`qallistic Levithi nut bounced off his forehead ridges. “You would tell us if there was a chance for glorious battle?”

“Always, my big and fluffy friend.”

Much to the Betazoid’s amusement, the ‘fluffy’ comment produced no growl of Klingon displeasure but was taken with good humor.

“I’d be more confident in that promise if I didn’t know you’ve recently been running off to battle without asking any of your friends to join you.”

“bIlugh.” Jin conceded the point, nestling deep into the cushions until she could have been mistaken for a dozing feline “But trust me on this one, Roosevelt – you would have hated not only where I was going, but what I was doing. Not to mention I’d have hated to get any of you killed. Barely made it out in one piece myself as it were.”

Vac pointedly ignored the Klingon’s unhappy growl and covertly took possession of the rum, providing himself and the little Efrosian with a generous refill “Let me guess. Can’t talk about it either. Or you could tell us, but then you’d have to shoot us. Stop it, Ford. Yes, I see your glass is empty. Go and bother the Vulcan, willya?”

“There is no need to inconvenience me” Sotek’s level baritone sounded behind Jin and she wasn’t surprised to see the next round of drinks appear on the table along with some fresh Zilm’kach and assorted pastries.

“Not at all, Vac. It’s just … it’s a long story, alright?”

“So, no daring covert operation, sealed orders and rescuing the Federation in the nick of time?” the Trill sounded positively crestfallen but his spirits lifted immediately at the sight of a new bottle of rum. The good stuff with the funny parrot.

Roosevelt for his part snorted into his wine at the mere thought of any spooks mad enough to recruit his little Efrosian friend before the expression on her lovely face made him rumble deep in his massive chest. So … that was it, wasn’t it? “You will follow your heart … through space … and if it be ripped from your chest, you will follow the trail of blood ...”

“Oh, shut it, Roosevelt.”

“Wait, what? Is this the throwing heavy objects and ducking a lot part?”

“No, it isn’t.” Jin stated firmly and planted a Levithi nut squarely on Vac’s nose to emphasize her point.

“It would explain why you didn’t want me along at least.” The Klingon grinned and deftly evaded another airborne nut. “Not that I don’t have a sort of soft and squishy spot for the overgrown space-elf who brought you back to us. Twice.”

“Soft?”

“I thought I was the one doing the bringing the first time around.”

“Squishy?!”

“Maybe you brought each other? While trying to claw at one another’s throats no less.”

“Roosevelt!?!”

“I have no idea why you think tr`Hheinha had anything to do with this. I don’t even like the guy.”

“A matter of honor, I’m sure.” Roosevelt eyed his depressingly empty tumbler and then gave an appreciative growl when a dark Vulcan shadow floated past without a sound, depositing a pitcher on the table. He anticipated a fit of melodious laughter – or failing that, something more painful than food to impact his big head; but to his surprise the blue-eyed little elf only chuckled softly, turning the glass with hot, fragrant tea – alright, more rum than tea by now - in her small hands.

“You know buddy, I never thought I’d say this … but you may have a point there. Never mind that Efrosian don’t hold with the funny ideas of many other species when it comes to honor, glory and whathaveyou. But there are times when you just know you got to do something if you want to be able to live with yourself.”

“Uh. ‘Xcuse me?”

“What, Ford?”

The clearly bemused Betazoid looked between his friends, obviously re-playing events and bits of conversation in his head “Not that I understand a bloody thing, but I thought you and that subcommander were close? Or something?”

“Close enough to start a war.”

“Ah. That close. Four Deities. Soft and squishy, though?”

“Drop it, Ford.”

“Dropping it. But why is the rum gone?”

[some hours later]

“Five foot two, eyes of black

but Gods how can they put up flak

Has anybody seen my chute?

Chained to the gun, so they can't run

but oh how could they shoot that gun

Has anybody seen my chute?”

“'ej ngIb Saw', vI', Dech jeeeeh … 'ej Doq, SoDta ghoS SIQaaaaarrrhhh ….”

“Oh how we blasted off, feelin' mean, loaded to bear

just one pass, then haul ass, please don't send me back up there

Fifty seven, twenty three, great big lights are goin' by me

Has anybody seen my chute?”

“ngugh, jaj nIv law' Hooo… FORD get your HANDS off my BLOODWINE Hoch nIv puS….”

“What shall we do with the drunken pilot, what shall we …”

“Naaawww not that one …”

As usual, the tall Vulcan in his exotic garments – exotic for a Vulcan, that is – was the last sober person in the vicinity. Not that it bothered him. Nor did he seem to mind the loud, off-key singing. Off-key in all cases but one, though that was hardly unexpected. Naturally, a lopsided, hiccuping Efrosian could be counted upon to carry a tune, even if it was a rather rowdy rendition of ‘The High Queen’s Bastard Daughter’. Sotek sidestepped an enthusiastically thrown shotglass and silently noted the perpetrator, making his way to the pilots entrenched at their favorite table by means of applying gentle pressure or placing a boot in strategically suitable locations where needed.

By now the gaggle known affectionately (or not) as the ‘Fighting Chickens’ had managed to attract others of their kind, not all of them wearing wings. The Vulcan certainly approved, seeing as Infinite Diversity came in many forms. If the pilots exercised it by randomly inviting helm officers, enlisted personnel and the odd stray marine into their midst ... he calculated a 99.86% probability he would have to send Rez for more bloodwine within the next 35.5 minutes and carefully stepped over the snoring bulk of a Pahkwa-thanh in medical blue. At some point he might have to extract the cheerful Hamalki from the rafters as well, especially since the scientist who resembled a large crystal spider was causing people to crane their necks or approximations of such every time she laughed. Wind chimes and the sound of champagne glasses crashing tended to have such interesting effects.

“Throw him down into liquid methane, throw him ... oh, Sotek. Sorry about that.”

“Do not concern yourself, Mister Vac. These boots have withstood an excitable Horta. I should however invite you to dissuade your comrade from throwing more graphite to Commander Pt’kl’r. She is bound to demonstrate creative physics once sufficiently inebriated. The last time this occurred Mister Rez and I had a rather difficult time dealing with the micro-wormholes displacing drinks and customers at random.”

“You got it, buddy. Say, any of that Yutann left?”

“As per your request I shall now remind you that it makes your spots itch.”

“Who ever said Vulcans aren’t kind and caring? Never you mind my spots, old pirate. I’m so faced you could have said Horta run me over and I wouldn’t notice.”

“So noted, Mister Vac.”

“Ahey, what happened to our nugget?”

“If you are referring to Ensign Thavas I believe she found it prudent to visit the ‘head’ approximately two point two minutes ago. At astonishing speed.”

“Must have been that Orion Whiskey.”

“It does tend to react in fascinating ways with Efrosian IceFloes.” Sotek nodded gravely and collected the assorted empty containers; almost absentmindedly evading a Klingon’s waving arms while saving a bottle of Deltan Blue from being knocked over by a marine in high spirits but with slightly impaired hand-eye coordination.

The sudden drop in ambient noise level registered with the Vulcan roughly a second after the sound of the old oak doors opening again (one point two, actually). Meaning that the stunning human woman with the regal bearing and the gold collar had already been positively identified as ‘Security’ rather than ‘Engineer’ and several of his patrons were in the process of trying to recall recent events. Most importantly, events which might prompt the ebony skinned lady to take professional interest in them.

It wasn’t until a tiny Efrosian let out a jubilant cry and bounced across several tables right into the officer’s waiting arms that a general exhale swept through the tavern and expressions settled into ‘worried? Me? Nah. That was just the lemon juice in my drink that made me look so funny’.

“vIta’pu’be’! pa’jIHpu’be’!”

The Vulcan merely nodded when 232.7 pounds of Klingon and chair toppled over, causing a minor ground-quake in the vicinity. What ever ‘it’ was Mister Roosevelt declared to not have done, the available evidence suggested he would be left to snore in peace. In any case, Commander Anyango would certainly appreciate the vacated chair.

[VOQ, Ares City - Later yet again. Or early, it all depends.]

Sunlight. Eyes hurt. Damn unnatural sunlight, too. So much red. Gah.

Scent. Wonderful. Familiar. Soothing, exotic, warm. Human.

Marjani.

Squinting against the brilliant light reflecting off Mars’ rugged surface, Jin smiled.

Well, this bed had seen better days. Sheets, too. Blast it, they somehow had managed to get all tangled up in their sleep. Little chance of dragging her sorry carcass to the replicator without waking the beautiful woman next to her.

Marjani.

The little pilot stirred, yawning profusely as she took stock of the minor jam she found herself in. Good leg caught in a knot of silk and immobile. Bad leg slung over a deliciously shaped waist. Cloud God and Thunder, even sleeping Marjani looked like a lioness basking on a rock. If terran lionesses had manes of shiny ebony, cascading over the pale white sheets, smelling of spice and sun and … well, right now of Efrosian. A little.

Sunlight.

Marjani felt the lithe, warm body stretching languidly and at the very same instant became aware they had done it again – how many times did that make now? How many beds in need of repair, how many sheets to be mended or outright tossed ... at least this time there had been no down pillows. Though her cheerful little lover had found it a great lark, taking the pillow fight out into the dignified old hotel’s corridors until the place looked like a tiger had waltzed through a flock of geese.

Jin.

Gods knew she hadn’t thought they’d ever see each other again.

A low, throaty laugh commented the mess of silk and legs even as a small hand cupped the back of her head, tousling the heavy black curls.

“Good morning Commander.”

“Good afternoon, mpenzi. And don’t call me that.”

“Right you are, madam security officer. Afternoon? That last whiskey must have been bad.”

“I think it was rather the eight or twelve before the last one, mpenzi. Is there anywhere you need to be?”

“Aside from the shower, which I imagine will be ghastly judging from this room? No. Is this where they put up visiting officers these days?”

“Only if they arrive on extremely short notice and with exotic pets in tow.”

“Pets?”

“Pet. Speaking of, the bastard must have snuck out again. Not sure whether I should be grateful there’s no local wildlife for him to eat.”

“Charming.” A delicately slanted, milk white eyebrow climbed on the little Efrosian’s face, a sure sign her musical laughter would right now fill the room if her head did not feel as if she had gotten between a herd of firebulls and a patch of melons.

“You’d like him, though.” Marjani had succeeded freeing her little friend – and incidentally herself – by the tried and proven method of ripping the already tattered fabric to pieces, using her newfound mobility to promptly pull the little pilot into a tender embrace “Seems he has a weakness for Romulan Ale. In a pinch, any strong spirit will do. Sound familiar?” “I’m sure I’ve no idea what you’re … mfff.”

Well, that was one way to make her shut up …

[Utopia Planitia, the next day. Some corridor or other]

“Mrrrr.”

“Shhh. I really don’t know how I let Marjani talk me into this, but if you don’t shut up we’re bound to get into trouble. I’ll have a hard time explaining how that big chunk of meat disappeared from the galley anyways.”

The large-ish feline like creature padding soundlessly after his new best pal seemed to silently agree, though the huge ham between his fangs would have made it difficult to voice … well, anything, really.

“And ‘Cat’? Really, what kind of a name is that? Cat? You’re not even a … well, whatever you are it’s no cat. Beard of the Cloud God, why do they build these things so big? You have any idea where we are?”

“Rrrrmmmm. Wrmowfmmm.”

“Thought so. Oh, hello mister …”

Ah. Pilot. Pilot? Here? How odd. How very, very fortuitous, too.

“How do you do? Never mind Cat, he’s already found his lunch. But say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find the quartermaster?”

[to be continued … elsewhere]