Prologue - Growing Up Fast

[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | A raft | Lake Michigan ]

"Miss Ross? Ensign?" The voice carried out from the shoreline, to where the figure drifted on the waves, eyes shut. One leg dangled off the floating raft, toes deep in the water, while the rest of the form lay there, hands behind her head, eyes shut beneath a pair of sun glasses. At first, she didn't really hear the call. She was lost, a drift on the lake.

She'd come out here, for the first time, in the summer between her second and third years at the Academy. It was a trip with her roommate and some of their friends. They'd camped on the edge of the lake for a week, living out of tents. "Roughing it," as Carlos had called it. Wasn't all that bad, compared to home, and the company had been much, much nicer. That thought brought a smile to her face.

Ahhhh, Carlos, ye were such a fun lad, she thought with a little shake of her head. They'd drifted apart since that summer, but she'd fallen in love with the lake side camp site, and had decided that, in the last week before she was due to report to her new posting, she'd enjoy some time on her own. Just her, the water, and the sun.

There were plenty of wildlife and native flora to study. This would be good practice for away missions, should they get any that involved exploration and not fighting off the faceless Romulan horde. Plus, she'd taken along a good number of PADD's and data tapes on her new posting, to further familiarize herself with her duties aboard her newly refit Discovery. She'd be spending the next who knows how many months in close quarters with 111 or of her fellow officers. Complete Strangers. A little time to herself was a treat she'd earned.

And t'ain't like Ma an'Da want anythin't'do with me, is it? The bitter thought cut into her sun tanning and she let out a long sigh. That was when she heard the call again, coming from the edge of the lake, some distance away. Her eyes snapped open and she rolled on the raft, nearly spilling herself and the PADD she'd been reading before she took a break into the waters of Lake Michigan.

"What the Feck?" she called out as she steadied the raft, looking back out at the shore. Ah, shite, she thought, throwing a hand over her chest belatedly. She was able to make out the form of someone in a blue Starfleet jumpsuit at the shore line by her tent, waving to get her attention. Again, the man's voice called out:

"ENSIGN ROSS? IS THAT YOU, MA'AM?" The voice carried over the lake and Cara let her head fall to the front of the raft, swearing under her breath. She sat up, turned her back and reached out to grab her top, tying the red bikini top into place.

"AYE, THA'S ME," she called back, steering the raft back toward the shoreline and giving a good kick off. It would take a minute to get back in, and her ire was starting to rise. "An who tha'hell are ye?" She muttered under her breath. She couldn't pin down the man's rank, so she wanted to tread carefully. Even if he was calling her "ma'am" that didn't mean much. She was out of uniform after all. Hell, ye were topless when the git called for ye. Lucky yer so far out of the bloke would ave an eyefull. Who the bloody hell comes out ta tha middle a'nowhere ta pester me on mah vacation anyway? None of this was voiced aloud, of course.

As soon as the Raft was close enough to the shore, the redhead slung herself off the flat and splashed down into the cool waters, trouncing her way up to the shore with the little pontoon in tow. It thumped to a stop in the sand, just above the water line, and the now bikini clad woman stomped up through the fine sands toward the uniformed man. Feckers taller than me. Just mah luck she added darkly, though she spotted the mans rank.

"Aight, Crewman," she groused as she came to a stop looking up at the man, her sunglasses down on her nose so that her green eyes could bore into him. Crewman, second class, she quietly noted, command gold shoulder boards. Pilot? She wondered, glancing at his mission patch. Not from mah ship. Looks like the dockyard. "What do ye want? As ye can surly see, ah was in the middle of enjoying mah leave. Alone." She punctuated her words by gesturing to the empty stretch of lake and shore.

"Sorry, Ma'am," the man said, looking down and then averting his gaze. Bless him, he's tryin' not to stare. The wee edjit. She knew her bust wasn't the most impressive but it was certainly on display, as was the rest of her. Modesty and Cara had something of a lax relationship with one another, though she had covered herself all the same at first, on the lake. "We tried comm'ing you, but there was no response."

"Aye, ah left the bloody thing on the shore. Not going to take tha out there on the water. Someone might interrupt mah studies," she pointed out, though now her stance had shifted. Her arms moved from where they'd been planted at her hips, to cross over her bust. "Why'd ye comm?"

"New Orders, ma'am. The Discovery is shipping out. Post haste. All crew leave has been canceled and all available crew is to report to the ship ASAP. I've been sent to fetch you." He added that last bit, with another glance down, his eyebrow rising up so precisely that Cara tilted her head to the side, to get a look at his ears.

No points. Guess he ain't a Vulcan with bad manners, she concluded, as she sighed and stood back up straight. "Now, ye let me get this straight. Tha Discovery. tha'ain't even scheduled fer its warp trials until next week, is shipping out ta'day?" She stressed that last word, and the noncom gave a bit of a shrug.

"Miss, I only know my orders. Which are, in short, to get you to the Discovery. I'm permitted to take you retrieve your personal effects, and allow you to uh, change into uniform," again, the eyes darted down, and this time they lingered long enough to earn a cough and a scowl from Cara. "But that's it. You're expected up there within the next two hours."


"Well, shite," she sighed and turned around, marching over to the tent that was set up past the high water mark, in the treeline of the lake. "Come on lad, ye can help me collapse this thing," she ordered, not quite fuming. On the one hand, her time alone had been abruptly ended, by an enlisted bloke that couldn't quite keep his eyes where they belonged. On the other hand, they had a mission. That meant she as going to space. And not just the local solar system. No, she was going to space, in the top of the line refit NX class Discovery, as the ships new head of Sciences Department.

There was jump in her step as she assaulted the tent.
She was going to space.


==3 hours later==


[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | NX-04 Discovery | Earth Drydock 2]

Cara stepped out of the turbolift, her hair hanging down behind her back, loose for the moment, as her head swiveled about. "Bloody hell," she said with a grin. There, on the left hand side of the bridge - directly ahead of her - was the Science station. Her station. It sat unnamed at the moment, as they were still in drydock. A few lights on the console blinked on and off, displaying some various bits of information too small to discern from where she stood.

Others moved about, but for that moment, Cara might as well have been alone. She stepped, slowly at first, but swifter, till she crossed the space between the lift and her seat. It felt like it took longer than it actually did. She stopped, and bit her lip, eyes wide. Tentatively, she reached a hand out, placing it gently on the console, and running it almost lovingly down the view scope when she heard a voice call out from behind her:

"Well, what do we have?"

Cara jerked up straight and spun on her heels, hair arching behind her. She saw a tall blonde woman standing there, near the lift, her shoulder bearing three silver pips above a gold colored stripe. It must have slid back open without her hearing, Cara realized. She'd been too distracted. Belatedly, someone else out there called out "Captain on the bridge!" and Cara stood even straighter.

Ah mah stars. Tha'must maker her Commander Saugn. The profile neglected to mention how bloody tall she was. Nor how good looking. Blimey. None of that made it past her lips. Instead, she simply said, "Ma'am." And tried not to look like she'd been caught unawares. Not the best impression for senior staff to make.

[Sergeant Raquel Ruiz | Quarters | C Deck | Starship Discovery NX-04 | Drydock] attn: Absinthe

Raquel woke up in the raw, drenched in sweat, and her sheets wet from the sweat she was emitting. She dreamed of her home again. She never stopped dreaming about madre y pico muchacho Carlos nuked by the Xindi beam weapon. She never stopped dreaming about it for four years.

She could see la familia in the crowded Cuban beach, frolicking about with the other two million tourists cramming la playa as tourist season was beginning. Then a bright light. And a beam slicing from Florida down onwards. Then they are all fried to a crisp.

Then there was Jefe, el padre. He drank more than usual after they died. Who would’ve thought that it would partially contribute to his later death; she was sure his death was mostly the fault of that Rigelian puta who he hooked up with. But still, if it really was, then Raquel was going to be her new best friend. She was free, but it came with a price.

Since MACO Boot Camp, she learned that her post was the only home she had. So she made the most of it. The prototype Minuteman, and later Discovery. Inwardly, Raquel was glad to be a part of an NX crew.

Then came the Romulans.

Raquel was itching to kill something, as an excuse for getting back at the cabrones who killed her familia. The Xindi threat had long past, so she settled for the next best thing. She killed plenty of Orions in her time, as the Minuteman patrolled and the escape that got her the medal and promotion. Anxious as she was to kill Romulans, Raquel kept reflecting that she was lucky to be alive.

Maybe she was trying to make sure.

In any case, Raquel remained on Discovery since it limped back into Drydock. Her post was her home; she had no home to go to. Besides, with her promotion to not just Sergeant, but also to Mistress-at-Arms, she intended to set an example as the detachment deputy; as Mistress-At-Arms, she was the MACO equivalent to the starship’s Executive Officer. Also, to show that she was not some laid-back pendejo like Major Claudius.

As much as she respected her commanders, MACO or Starfleet, Raquel felt inward trepidation at Major Claudius. Gluteus Maximus is what he ought to have been named; she can’t figure out how a man with eye patch, let alone a MACO commander, could be a bum like him. And his dog… It was a pendejo like the Major. The rottweiler’s looks was deceiving. Anybody expecting a killing machine would be so disappointed, he or she would be moved to tears. If she had been playing catch with it and it had been given voice, it would easily say, “Get it yourself, biatch.” And she had seen its behavior; she rarely ever saw it move. Not even with those old grapplers would one get that lazy furball off its…

She set her jaw and took a breath; she almost began to rant. Much as she wanted to remain in bed, she saw no point in continuing sleep, and so arose to exercise. She always went to bed naked; the chill helped strengthen her, in a way.

She had just been starting exercises when she heard the communicator beeping. Slamming a fist onto it, she barked, “QUE?!?”

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am,” came the reply; it was one of the MACOs, one of the privates. Raquel wondered if the muchacho wet himself from hearing her snap.

“It better be good, private,” she said. One of the first things she set up once becoming Mistress-at-Arms was that nobody disturbs her unless it’s absolutely urgent. In her opinion, any good leader ought never to be summoned for something trivial.

“It is. Major Claudius wants to see you.”

Raquel shut her eyes. “Fuuuuuuu……”

It may have sounded like a sigh, but sometimes, anybody with a good ear can tell it wasn’t.

“What was that, ma’am?”

“Nothing, private. I’m on my way.”

Shutting off the communicator, she muttered, eyes closed again, teeth grit, “What does the pendejo want now?”

Pendejo or not, Raquel never dared ignored the Major’s summons. That would be setting a bad example. A good MACO must never ignore a superior’s summons.

She got on her underwear, pants, a tank top…she was soon in uniform and marched her way to the Major’s quarters.

It better not be another sucking waste of time.

[Sergeant Raquel Ruiz | MACO CO Office | MACO Unit | Starship Discovery NX-04 | Earth Drydock 2] attn: Absinthe

Raquel never forgot. When the MACO detachment she was with first joined Discovery, they were all living in a cargo hold. Now look what’s been changed in the refit. A crap load of stuff has changed in the refit, like the extra levels; Raquel noticed when she took a ride in a shuttle pod. Crap, Discovery looked so awesome. It was also nice that the rest of the NXes got such badassery looks as Discovery had now.

Raquel spent most of her time on Discovery in this new area. She loved the training area, but she also had her new job; as Mistress-at-Arms, she wasn’t just the detachment deputy. She inspected the weapons. How many there are, what are needed, how much of a punch they require. She always kept her rifle, El Viejo Sin Dolor, Old Painless, on her at all times. It was her favorite rifle. Also customized; it packed extra punch, can fire farther than any other weapon, and she even attached a bayonet onto it in case of closer encounters. Not that it mattered; armed or not, she was dangerous.

She had always stayed away from Major Claudius’ office when she came in, though, even if she had to hang by the rafters. But like any good soldier, she never ignored his summons.

She came in expecting him to ask her to babysit his dog or some other ridiculous bull. She certainly wasn’t expecting this news. Not only were they shipping out earlier than expected, it was a chance to kill Romulans again. Or rather, save some lives and protect them if need be. Standing at attention, all Raquel could do is blink in surprise.

“Affirmative, sir,” she said. “I’ll get right to the Weapons Locker at once, sir! And of course we’re not that dumb!”

She made a glance at the dog before she departed for the Weapons Locker for inspection. As usual, the mound of fur never moved much.

One of these days, pendejo, one of these days…you’d better be taking a bite out of something.

[ Olivia Saugn | Main Bridge | NX-04 Discovery | Earth Drydock 2 ] attn: brutus

As the gorgeous red head spoke, Olivia nodded, doing her best to not stare at the other woman's lips. The younger woman's accent was like sweet nectar in her ear and seemed to sooth her still partially hungover brain. Her plans for an alcohol and sex filled week had been cut tragically short, but her libido was gnawing at the back of her mind more than she liked. She needed another cold shower, but it didn't look like she was going to get that any time soon.

But she had to refocus herself. Now was not the time to lust after the ensign, she didn't know if there would ever be a time, but even if there was, this sure as hell wasn't it. She forced a relaxed smile and hoped it was believable.

"Well, I've only seen the initial reports and it's not overly detailed," she began as she looked down at her hand and tapped the top of the console with her knuckle. "I'm expecting more detailed scans within the hour, we should have a fair good guess as to what we're walking into well before we launch. The plan is to do a briefing will all the department heads once the report comes in."

"With any luck the rest of the senior staff will have reported in by then, or at least those we can get on the ship in a hurry. You're not the only one who was on leave when this began," she said thoughtfully.

---
[ L'thm K'vai T'Lem | Main Bridge | NX-04 Discovery | Earth Drydock 2 ] attn: multificionado

There were those who needed to be off duty before they would allow themselves to relax, T'Lem was not one of those kinds of people. All she needed was no one giving her any instructions and no previously stated orders, and she would find something to do on her own. And she was, at that point, already done getting sickbay ready for launch.

All the medicines were stocked and registered in the ship's computer. Even the osmotic eel was fed and clinging too the side of it's tank looking almost bored. T'Lem knew exactly how it felt. She was about as bored as it looked like it was.

She had laid down on one of the biobeds, and was staring intently at the ceiling. She wondered what a normal Vulcan would do in that situation. She wasn't a normal Vulcan, but she had been trained by them. Maybe meditate? She had a hard time focusing to do that, she got too bored. She wondered if other Vulcans got bored too and simply hid it better. Or maybe boredom was only or humans and Vulcan failures like her. Either way, she was bored as hell and needed something to do. Anything really...

With a heavy sigh she exited the sickbay and made her way through the corridors of the ship, looking for someone to bother, someone who was either too busy or not busy enough.

[ Olivia Saugn | Main Bridge | NX-04 Discovery | Earth Drydock 2 ] attn: brutus


Did she seem nervous or was that just Olivia's imagination? Honestly she couldn't tell.The younger woman had a way of seeming confident, though it was clear to Olivia that at least some of that was a well maintained mask. Olivia had her own mask to maintain, so she understood. there were a lot of things she was glad it did not seem people knew about her. A degree of professionalism was expected and she knew damn well that given the chance she more often than not fell through. She wondered how Helen managed to lead so many lives, to keep so many secrets. She never did find out.

"I would start on Deck E in the forward section. I have been told the new sensor array is a treat to any who understand that kind of thing," she said giving her calmest smile. She wanted to keep herself focused on business and not get distracted by another beautiful redhead. She cursed her luck that she would have to share a bridge with the green eyed beauty, but she kept this all contained behind her mask of professionalism. That last thing she needed was a reprimand on her file for fraternizing with an officer under her command. She could see it ending badly. She'd have to keep control. "I can't say I know too much about it, but I have a spare minute to take you down there if you are up for a little bit of a walk? At least to the turbo lift and then to the forward section."

The sensor array was indeed one of the most advanced in the fleet after the old deflector dish had been refitted to serve a new purpose. Most of the internal structure had been replaced, but the main bulk of the exterior had been salvageable and given a new coating to allow for it to detect even the faintest of signals from any number of things. It was likely one of , if not the most advanced sensor array in the fleet.

[Sergeant Raquel Ruiz | Weapons Locker | MACO Unit | Starship Discovery NX-04 | Earth Drydock 2] attn: Absinthe

Raquel couldn’t help but be impressed with the stockpile of weapons in the locker. They all must’ve been loaded aboard during the refit; they couldn’t have had all this on short notice, given the news from Major Claudius that they were leaving earlier than expected. But still, she was amazed at the amount of ordnance they were packing. Only the ship’s torpedoes would pack more punch than their entire armory put together.

They didn’t just have more than enough rifles and ammo; they had stun grenades, among other grenades that packed a stronger punch, and some detonators to blow doors away, at least to a certain extent, sniper scopes and…those long tubes, did they look like bazookas? For want of a better expression?

Raquel gazed in amazement, brushing her hair through her fingers, whistling. She wondered if Starfleet Command, as well as los generales of the MACOs, knew about those hellish months the Discovery had been through, the attack from the Romulans?

It was war, after all. And this time, the MACOs were armed to the teeth, not to mention that there was some horns included. Raquel wondered if the rest of the Discovery, in its refit, was given as much armaments, in its personnel and weapons systems, as her MACOs did. In any case, they’re bound to pack a whallop on the Romulans. Raquel was looking forward to showing the whole kaboodle to the rest of the MACOs when they came.

Still, she had to report to the major, pendejo or not.

As she was heading for the office, she noticed someone had entered the unit. The woman didn’t look like she was Starfleet, nor did she look strong enough to be a MACO. There was something peculiar about her, and not just from what she wore.

“Senora,” she called to her, using the equivalent to “ma’am,” primarily as a show of respect; every soldier always provided gestures and indications of respect, even if their superiors were pendejos.

“Senora? Senora! Are you lost? Senora, I am talking to you!”

[ Ens. Cara Siobhan Ross | NX-04 Discovery | Earth Drydock 2 ] Attn: Absinthe


For a moment, even to Cara it seemed like something shifted in her commanding officer's gaze. The way the eyes darted down, briefly. The set of the other woman's jaw. There was something going on behind the ships Captains eyes, that Cara could not quite understand or place. A trickle of worry, the nagging little though of, Ack, was she just bein' polite? 'Ave Ah pushed 'er too far? flitted across her subconscious without really having time to settle in before Oliva seemed to come back to herself with a little shake, and offered to lead the way.

Even taking a step back, Commander Saugn seemed to tower over the younger Ensign. It made Cara feel a little self conscious, though as a general rule she found height an attractive quality in general. Something was still off in the woman's eyes, a Cara looked up at her with a tentative smile on her own face. She felt like she was being inspected again, but there was something else going on. Like a struggle within the other woman for....for what? She couldn't pin it down, but all the same, Cara felt a heat rise to her cheeks.

It was a failing of her genetics, as far as the redheaded Scot was concerned, and one she'd been mercilessly teased about in the fashion that only children and Starfleet Cadets could manage. Her skin was naturally pale. When she got sun, she tanned, and she had been getting some tan out at Lake Michigan. She also freckled something fierce, and there was a smattering of the little dots across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. All gifts from her father.

Worst of all, however, was the blush. She didn't just gain a light pink coloring. No, it came on full, a rich, rosy red, and there it was, blooming across her face. She could feel it creep over her features and she turned her head a way for a moment and coughed. Was it the look, or the word choice? Something had just sent her from bright, bubbly and confident, to bright, bubbly and shy at warp factor 5.

"Ah thank ye kindly, Captain," She managed with only a slight tremble in her voice. Focus on th'sensor array, ye git. Now is not th'time to go aboot blushin' like ah wee schoolgirl, she scolded herself, stepping into the lift as the doors parted for the two women. "Ah figure it'll take me a few days or so to get a good feel fer how th'ship is laid out, bow t'stern and tha like." She swallowed, feeling the closeness of the lift and not understanding why that suddenly seemed to matter. She'd been fine with the proximity on the bridge, and shook it off as new posting jitters.

"Ah'm positive tha'th sensor array will be quite enticing, aye."