PrincessColumbia

  The operation had completed successfully.

  When it came to military engagements, that was a tremendously high bar and Diane felt everyone involved deserved a massive amount of praise, up to and including the GeneMods integrating with the command structure and following her orders.

  The cleanup was always the hard part, though.

  Jorgenson hadn’t been happy that the Terrans had been permitted to leave, Diane was starting to wonder if he was ever happy while not killing something, but he was satisfied that the op had been successful and was more than happy to hand the whole mess to Diane to handle from there. “I have to report back to my brother. Once you’re finished here, he’ll want to speak with you as well.”

  “Yeah, that tracks. Just don’t go hunting those Terrans once you’re not in my command anymore. They’ve got all sorts of records of my ships with my station ID all over ‘em, and the st thing we need is the Terrans sending a fleet into Independent space because we put a burr up their ass.” She smiled at the holographic dispy of the man who had yet to even so much as grin, “You and your family are still fairly mobile and wherever Ben is setting up as your secret base still remains a secret, but my station is kinda stuck in pce.”

  Jorgenson nodded, his expression softening at least a little as he conceded, “That…is very soundly reasoned and makes a good deal of tactical and strategic sense. You did a good job of serving as our overwatch, and so that does at least serve as a lesson learned; just because you’re not of the Family doesn’t mean your opinion is lesser.”

  Diane intentionally kept the smile on her face even as she grimaced internally, “Good lesson no matter who you’re dealing with, I should think.”

  With that slightly awkward departure, Diane set about using her Builders and Busters crew to the tasks of repairing the damage that combat wrought.

  For the most part, the work on the previously hidden Terran infrastructure was mostly about repairing the buildings in such a way that they weren’t secret bunkers anymore. As such, the bare minimum was to surface a lot with clear indicators of the presence of underground construction, but where they could and made logical sense, single-story buildings were installed over the top of the existing structures, using the in-pce (and fully repaired) construction as a foundation. Naturally, all existing furniture, computers, and other tech that wasn’t specifically structural or life support (such as climate control) were removed and tucked into one of the repaired warehouses.

  Diane made copies of all un-destroyed data, of course. One does not a good spook make when one leaves possible intelligence just lying around.

  Where she was worried was when the repair met the colony’s efforts to recover from the operation. She made sure one her lieutenant was stationed with the leading edge of the GroPos and B-team just in case contact was made with someone in authority, and sure enough her comms board lit up with a ping from Cooker, “Ma’am, we have one of the local higher-ups wanting to talk with you…in person.”

  She chugged back her Jiantin Tonic and settled the empty mug in the cup-holder on her station, “Yeah, I expected they might. Tell ‘em I’ll be there in about half an hour, gotta get me a ride.”

  “10-4, commander.”

  Diane stood and locked her workstation, stretching her back before ducking into the mini-quarters connected to the ops console room. She gnced at the recessed part of the wall that held her combat suit, but shook her head, Don’t want to look like some sort of conqueror. That said, she wasn’t stupid, she retrieved the Mark 34 from the drawer next to her cot and dug out the shoulder holster she’d prepared specifically for it. If she weren’t going to wear her jacket over the whole thing (and she wasn't, the pnet ran hot, even for her Morvuck constitution), it might look rather odd…if she didn’t include a second holster in a side-by-side arrangement for an in-game pistol. She exited her quarters and thumbed the lockout tab outside the pocket door hatch on the opposite side of the ops station and headed down the stairs that were revealed on the other side.

  The RDCC building was three stories tall. The command ‘deck’ was on the top story, which included her ops station and quarters. The next level down was much bigger, including the armory and a partition that allowed the remainder of the second level to be adapted as needed. At the moment it was operating as a ‘break room,’ a pce for the GroPos or engineers to ‘chill’ when their duty shift was up. She poked her head in to wave at the handful of people in that room then moved on to the armory. She retrieved a psma rifle, one of a recently imported batch at a not inconsiderable expense from Mortan, and a standard issue pistol.

  She slid the pistol into the holster next to her anti-A.I. weapon and checked the mirror nearby. She nodded in satisfaction, to any S.A.I. that might happen to see the grips sticking out of the holsters, it’d look simply like an odd arrangement for someone who liked to dual wield. To any NPC, it’d look like she’d only grabbed one pistol instead of filling both holsters.

  As she attached the carry strap to the psma rifle, she turned it in her hands and sighed, allowing herself an internal grumble, It’s just not a P390…

  The P390s were, sadly, all back at the station. She’d intentionally not packed the armory for her personal use, given the likelihood her people would need the weaponry and the P390s were, admittedly, rather a bespoke selection, requiring training to use a chemical-propelled slug weapon. Most of the recruited people that were on the mission with her were trained in energy weapons only, so the armory’s loadout was to meet their needs.

  Allowing herself the minor disgruntlement over the choice of carbine, she slung it over her shoulder and headed down to the first level of the building, the garage. This was huge, mostly to allow room for the construction mechs until a dedicated bay could be built (on the priority list but not started yet) and the Huggy with room to spare for the harvested materials until the refinery and warehouse had been built (both fully operational and the refinery was chugging away at the retrieved pnt life and matching performance projections). Once the space for the mats was cleared, it also became a temporary bay for the ground vehicles that were being transported from the Abigail Adams to the LZs they’d established.

  As she crossed the garage, she heard a friendly challenge tossed her way, “Yo, commander!” she turned to see one of the engineers who’d been tasked to the vehicle bay smiling at her, “Where’s your tuba? I thought you’d only go into battle yourself if you had something to py music on.”

  She smirked at him, “I left it in my other pants!” This was met with the expected round of ughter. The st twenty-plus hours had brought them together, not necessarily as friends (she still didn’t know most of their names) but at the very least as trusted colleagues. She smiled warmly at the people watching the exchange as she turned to the small booth that functioned as a control center to the bay and also served as the office for the growing vehicle pool of the operation.

  It was somewhat ironic that, though Diane had plenty of time under her belt on the driving course for the agency to do both defensive and offensive driving in a regur American car, none of that training transted to her being qualified to drive one of the military-grade nd vehicles the Abigail Adams was producing for the op. Not even her rank as Commander got her a pass, and so one all-terrain vehicle with bucket seats and a roll-bar was made avaible for her use, right along with a driver.

  Settling herself into the passenger seat, she maneuvered her five-point harness under her psma rifle’s carry strap. “So,” she gnced at the rank insignia on the GroPo’s colr, “Private. What’s your name?”

  “Crkson, ma’am,” her driver replied. He was a pretty standard issue human male, and if she was any judge of it, not one of the people she’d inherited with the station.

  “Alright, Crkson, let’s make some good time, I promised I’d be at our meeting point in 30 minutes and that was 10 minutes ago.” She turned the nav tablet slightly so she could locate her lieutenant and tapped his indicator before turning it back so the private could see his destination marker.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said politely and started the engine.

  Fifteen somewhat bumpy minutes ter (they’d taken a couple shortcuts owing to the less than straight nature of the road between the RDCC and the colony proper), Diane was grinning at Crkson, “Damn good driving, soldier. Thanks for the fast delivery.”

  The man blushed slightly but smiled with a, “Thank you, ma’am.”

  She unfastened her safety harness and slipped out of the seat, “Coordinate with the boots on the ground to park nearby, I’ll have my minitab on me to call you over if I need another lift.”

  He saluted and drove off in the direction of the rgest cluster of uniforms.

  Diane turned to her waiting LT and took in the sight of…honestly one of the most surprising aliens she’d seen in the game so far.

  She started with the assumption that she was looking at a female of the species. The woman was tall…ish. Diane was still taller, but this woman easily clocked six feet. She rather had to be tall in order for her torso to house the four breasts that were very prominently visible under a spare top that left little to the imagination. ‘Multiples of two’ seemed to be the order of the day, as the woman(?) had two sets of arms, two sets of eyes, and two sets of horns. Yes, horns; one pair that curled back and up, almost forming a crown that corralled the very mammalian hair, and the other pair dropping and swooping forward almost framing the woman’s face. Diane noted that she also had two tails that seemed to be flicking back and forth in a gesture of, if Earth animals (specifically cats, which is what the motion of these tails made Diane think of) were any indication, was irritated impatience. Diane was just as gd that the woman had two legs instead of four, as she would have likely spent nights awake trying to work out the anatomy necessary to support such a configuration. The digitigrade feet, however, did seem to split about halfway up, almost making it look like she had a pair of backward facing feet with two cwed toes in mirror of her forward facing feet, also with cwed toes. The woman’s upper arms were fairly simir to hers, not dissimir from any given humanoid species she’d encountered thus far, but the lower set of arms looked like they could be lifted straight from a Crotuk. They were nearly twice as muscur as the upper set and the cws on the tips of the fingers were also longer and slightly intimidating. Wrapping the entire package up was scaley, reptilian skin, the scales being rather thicker in spots, mostly in pces that would be vulnerable in a one-on-one tussle; the wrists, the shins, the tops of her feet, etc. It was arranged almost like armor, honestly, though purely organic in nature.

  Taking in the woman’s face, she noted the top pair of eyes were like a blend of human (or at least humanoid, clearly this being wasn’t human in the slightest) and a reptile, with vertical slits and green irises that were regarding her like she was a threat. The lower set of eyes were pure bck and damned impossible to get anything like a read on. A closer look at the jawline almost made Diane smile, she could see simir muscuture to her own, which meant that this woman’s race and her own were likely simir in descendance from reptilian megafauna.

  Lt. Cooker stepped forward and saluted Diane smartly, "Ma'am, this here is Miss Sarrath'al."

  The alien, apparently named Sarrath’al, frowned, “What does ‘miss’ mean?”

  Cooker gave Diane a look that spoke of tired repition. If he’d been having to keep this woman entertained while Diane was on her way, then he’d likely be making small talk. If he made Human small talk (something even Diane had always found extremely tedious most of the time) and this species were native to Crotuk territory as indicated by their proximity to the Crotixian border, ‘Miss’ Sarrath’al would not have had to put up with it, especially if the Terrans had been as intent to remain hidden as it seemed, which meant Cooker had likely been the unfortunate soul required to expin an entire culture's minutia and trivia and vocabury.

  She gave a closed lip smile (she’d learned the hard way from her own station’s residents that you needed to be careful which predator species you fshed teeth at) and expined, “It’s a Human gender marker, usually used to indicate a deference or respect when tacked on to the start of a name. It’s shorthand for ‘mistress’ and is a lingual relic from the Regency era that came to a close a few centuries ago.”

  Sarrath’al smirked, “I do believe I like the term ‘mistress’ if it’s transting properly,” she eyed the lieutenant up and down with a teasingly hungry smile.

  Diane blushed and chuckled, “It’s…possible you’re getting a mangled transtion through your impnt,” she tapped the side of her head, “The usage of ‘miss’ and ‘mistress’ has diverged in the centuries since they were interchangeable. Modern usage of ‘mistress’ tends to imply a…certain retionship, usually confined to the bedroom.”

  Diane had discovered the mechanic that expined the ‘universal transtor’ handwavium for the game when she’d woken up in the middle of the night with a tremendous ringing in only one ear. Once she’d frantically summoned Katrina, the hologram patiently expined her transtor impnt was on the fritz and needed some servicing, something sick bay was able to take care of. Dr. Dmini had been roused from a sound sleep and was, fortunately, more amused than put out at the situation. The procedure to repair the impnt was quick (the battery had, apparently, surged and shorted a connection) and she’d had it updated with the test gactic nguage pack while they were at it. The next day she’d dug into the game lore for the impnts and discovered she’d have, were she actually born in the game’s universe, gotten the impnt around her 16th birthday. Any younger and the Morvuck (and Human, and Liari, and a host of other humanoid species) skull wasn’t rge enough to accommodate the device.

  As for the usage of the term ‘mistress,’ she’d discovered that thanks to her and Caitlynn’s bedroom activities. Caitlynn had asked for Diane to try ‘mistress’ but they both decided that ‘captain’ was much more intimate to their particur retionship.

  Sarrath’al chuckled, “I do appreciate a species that understands that words have just as much a pce in sex as the physical act itself. But you,” she sniffed the air demonstrably, “Are not Human. You are…?”

  Diane grinned proudly, “I’m Morvuck, but I was raised among humans, so I know quite a bit more about them than your average gactic citizen.”

  The other woman(?) nodded, “I see, so would you be able to expin why the Humans are fighting each other in our colony?”

  Diane’s smile turned wry, “Ah, yes. Your colony is the unfortunate recipient of one of the many ‘gifts’ of the Gaxy War,” she pulled out her mini-tab and flipped open the cmshell to show the rger tablet screen. She internally chuckled at the memory of discovering that feature only a couple weeks prior and completely on accident. She didn’t use the device as often as she used her phone outside the pod, so hadn’t ever had reason to explore its features. Having gotten used to having Caitlynn in her bed to fill her nights, however, had set her internal routine to expecting to stay up and do ‘things’ with Caitlynn after her busy work day. She also knew if she did something like get out of bed and do extra work or put in some exercise or even watch a streaming service, she’d wind up staying up far ter than if she just tossed and turned for a while, so she’d started fidgeting with her mini-tab in the same way she did with her phone. She’d never owned a phone that had a folding screen, in the resource-strapped American Republic after the war such a thing was considered a luxury, so was almost unreasonably giddy to discover the new feature, staying up far too te that first night.

  It was also yet another knock-on effect of being in a retionship with Caitlynn, the positive associations of good things in her life connecting with her girlfriend in her mind nudging her feelings for the other woman closer and closer to the ‘love’ cssification with every one of them she discovered.

  She brought up the remote connection to her console on the RDCC and opened the map of the area that was updating in real time. “This,” she said as she pointed to a cluster of buildings, “Is your colony, obviously. This here,” she tapped on a collection of buildings that were removed from the town by nearly a mile, “Is the Terran’s instaltion, or at least the one that they told you about. This here,” she zoomed out and tapped on the extensive set of underground complexes that were just a bit further away from the colony, “Is some cndestine construction that the Terrans were doing behind your colonial government’s back.”

  She gave a sympathetic smile to Sarrath’al, “I’ve also been digging through your colony’s records and comparing it to the data I’ve been forensically pulling from the Terran’s computers, or at least what we were able to secure as they fled. I happen to know that your government's records had no data about this,” she tapped on the military base that was now completely emptied of Terran soldiers, “And this,” she then tapped on the aerospace field several clicks away from the colony, “That's also unauthorized construction.”

  The woman’s expression was pinched, and while the one set of eyes were as inscrutable as ever, the other betrayed a worried look, “I…am afraid I’m rather unfamiliar with the deals our government made with the Terrans. I knew they were there, but not the details.”

  “Oh,” Diane refrained from frowning, “Are you a recent appointee?”

  The sneer on Sarrath’al’s face spoke more of frustration and irritation than anger, “Given that our mayor and his counsel fled when the Humans began fighting and haven’t returned, I was ‘appointed’ by my people deciding that someone needed to ask what was going on once the actual fighting stopped.”

  “Oof, ouch,” chuckled Diane, “Well then, let me step you through what I know…”

  An hour ter and Diane and Sarrath’al had moved into the central government building which, in the manner of small towns the gaxy over, was a multipurpose building that happened to hold the mayor’s office. The woman was apparently something of a community leader and called in several others once it was clear Diane’s expnation had as much to do with their sovereignty as it did their safety.

  The main conference room had a holographic table, something that made sharing the information much easier. “…and what we’re doing right now is repairing the damage so the facilities are useable again, though obviously by the people who actually own the colony.”

  The collected faces were a mixture of stunned and angry. Of the five other people there, they all had been shocked by the revetion of the extent of the Terran’s compounds. Sarrath’al, who’d gotten the preview from Diane, had folded one set of arms and had the fists of her other set on her hips, a double-shot of angry disapproval that a Human or Morvuck had no hope of pulling off.

  One of the males (who only differed from the females, apparently, in the ck of breasts. They were the same grade of reptilian and slightly eldritch beauty as the females in every other respect) seemed almost heartbroken, “…how did they get away with this?”

  Diane had been "trained" in the intelligence agent's art of nation building but found the whole prospect distasteful. Given that America had been significantly curtailed since its glory days of being the sole superpower, everything Diane knew about the practice was entirely book learning. That said, she recognized the footprints in the snow when she saw it, "Your leadership, did they bug out surprisingly fast, like, were they already one foot out the door when the action started?"

  The avaible community leaders that had taken over in the wake of the action exchanged gnces before bobbing their heads in a side-to-side motion before Sarrath'al leaned forward and put two hands on the table, the pair that had been crossed over her chest, "Yes, they did. Is there something significant to this fact?"

  Diane mimicked her motion, leaning forward and delivering the bad news, "Your so-called leaders were on the take, likely from the Terran Intelligence Agency. It's a Human practice for destabilizing a local government to prepare it for installing a puppet dictatorship. It looks like Benjamin's intel was right about damn near everything."

  Sarrath'al tilted her head, "Who is this 'Benjamin'?"

  Diane smiled, her eyes dropping to the holographic dispy and tracing over the nd and buildings that had been recimed for the local people, "He's the leader of a group of genetically modified humans that were sted for execution by the Terrans. He's one hell of a survivor and could probably take a Crotuk one on one. He and his family are looking for a new home and I guess found your little problem with the Terrans in the process."

  "Ah," Diane heard the smile in the other woman's voice, "Your mate?"

  Diane's eyes bugged out as her head whipped up, "What? No! No-no-no-no! Ah, no. My 'mate,' my girlfriend is on a job and won't be back for a month. Ben's just a nice guy."

  The other woman chuckled, "Fascinating. I suppose Morvuck mate for life? Or perhaps your mating pheromones are different from ours and I'm mistaking what I'm scenting from you?"

  Diane gred without heat at Srrath'al, "...do you happen to know a woman named Leki?" She waved the comment away without waiting for an answer, "The point is, Ben's intel was solid on what was going on here. I've been noticing a few things about this that would make you guys the perfect target for a...less than honest government agency to take advantage of you."

  She pointed at a lush forest on one of the untouched slopes outside of town, "That one stand of forest has enough wealth in it just in the trees you have as a natural resource that you could probably buy an isnd on any given core Terran world you could name," she tapped on her mini-tab and the view changed to show the system, "You're on the inside of the 'goldilocks' zone for supporting life in a damn near ideal star system that's ripe for conquest," she tapped again, switching to a view of the gaxy map, "And you're on the Crotuk Empire's doorstep," she pointed to the map where a pulsing dot showed that they were so close to the border of Independent space that with the appropriate zoom level one could mistake them for still being inside Crotuk territory.

  One of the men, Diane hadn't learned his name yet, leaned forward and gave the gactic map a confused look, "So what does this all mean?"

  Diane swiped back a few times on her mini-tab to return the view to the ndscape that included the colony. "It means," she said, leaning forward with her fists on the table, "That the T.I.A. were following the pybook. I'm guessing this colony isn't directly affiliated with the Crotuk government?"

  The citizen leaders exchanged concerned looks and Sarrath'al confirmed, "No, the Central Command is more worried about their border with the Lantru right now. This colony is an independent operation, it's why we set up in Independent space."

  Diane nodded, "So the Feds spot a little colony with a lot of natural resources and no native protection. They offer to help get you established and if they line the pockets of your 'leaders,' why, that just secures the entire operation has stability over the long term, right? Eventually the so-called 'leaders' are so firmly in the pocket of the Federation that they become a puppet state. If they try to push back? They get repced through whatever means necessary and someone new, someone that the Terrans are firmly in control of, is put in their pce. Then the business deals start rolling in, and it seems like it's good for the colony because business and investment, right? But those businesses are also part-owned by the T.I.A. and the money they make funnels back to the agency and the Terrans. Eventually the colony is so dependent on those businesses that they can't exist without them and the businesses can cim that any resistance to their presence would threaten their bottom line or stability and we can't have that, now can we? No competing businesses are allowed on the pnet and eventually the whole operation is basically property of the Feds. And the Federation can't protect its interests from that far away, right?"

  She flicked the holo-table back to the gactic map and reached in and pinched the blue 'skin' that indicated the border of the Terran Federation and stretched it to encompass the system they were in. The resultant 'space grab' would cover a very significant portion of Independent space...including Darkskye.

  Diane gnced around the table to see a lot of grim faces, letting the revetions sit until she delivered the final blow, "And how likely do you think the Crotuk or Lantru would be to simply let this," she made a circling motion to encompass the space that would be cimed if the Terran Federation succeeded, "Happen?" She watched as the six people who simply wanted to start their own lives, especially the older folks, turned an ashen ruby color as they realized they were the front lines for a new war.

  PrincessColumbia

  Spoiler AnnouncementSo what's going on here?

  There's some events in the future of CoE that are directly impacted by one of the major plot twists of Digital Gaxy that result in the introduction of a canonical parallel universe. (If you've read all of Troubleverse, you likely can guess the specific event I'm referring to.) The specifics of what happens and how this affects Diane's story is something I'll save for the proper releases ter, but it does introduce Diane's variant in this alternate universe. Everything that happens to the in-game universe? Everything that Diane created for her 'cover' as a Lost Mortan who was adopted by The Matron on her first visit to her home world after being raised by Humans in the wake of the Gaxy War? All of that happened in this AU...except this Diane was never an agent of the American Republic. The AR, in fact, is a dead nation that Diane learned about in history css.

  In the wake of her "dark mirror universe variant" arriving and changing the geopolitical ndscape of the entire gaxy, life goes on. Diane's life has major events that have nothing to do with multiverse shenanigans and in the wake of some bad news and yet another major life-altering event, Diane discovers she has a sister via her adoption by the Matron.

  Who is this mysterious woman? How does she fit into Diane's life? If you're clever, you'll pick up on some clues about some VERY spoilerific details in this. ??

  Diane had never been quite so eager to get off Mortan as she was in that moment.

  She did, eventually, feel like the ringing in her head had reduced enough that she could get off the floor of the hotel, and one application of a portable cranial regen unit ter, had decided she wanted to go home. While Rokyo was her mother now, and everyone involved unequivocally decred it a good thing (including Somnirelith), the room in the mansion felt like it was simply too much space and not enough of her and it simply wasn’t her quarters on the station she’d worked with Katrina and Norma to almost build from the ground up. Norma had duties to return to as well, not to mention there were still things happening that Diane really should be there for, such as the anticipated arrival of the S.A.I.’s representative from Earth.

  Somnirelith had really stepped up to the pte. Apparently, she and several others had been preparing for years to become the first of their kind known to be a co-dominant species with Morvucks. She handled the Mortan press extremely deftly and Diane was frankly a little envious. She’d had to hire a press secretary to handle the media after one too many times she was a little too real on main had nded the station in hot water.

  Sani had managed to work things out with her mothers. Apparently, the combined support of The First Found Daughter of Mortan, the High Priestess of the Church, and a freaking Matron had managed to get through to Leki’s sister, Calie, that yes, this was Sani in every sense that mattered, and she was just as deserving of love and moms as any other Morvuck regardless of present condition.

  Diane was, therefor, somewhat floored when she announced she’d be returning to the Matron’s Aeirie, still as a permanent resident. “I…have my friends there,” she’d confided in Diane ter, “And half the reason I hated being there was because I felt like nobody wanted me to be there.” She’d given Diane a nervous look, “I…don’t feel like that anymore.”

  With their business concluded, they fairly quickly wrapped up their affairs and returned to the Dragon’s Daughter. Diane had felt the first real twinges that she might actually feel at home on Mortan after all when she found herself reluctant to break off the farewell hug Rokyo was giving her. “I’m always a comms call away,” said her new mother when they’d finally ended the hug, “You call me with anything, just like always.”

  Diane bussed her forehead against Rokyo’s as a purr rattled from her throat, “Tell me to get on my ship and go home or I might just wind up living under my mom’s roof.”

  As she entered the bridge, she was unsurprised to see Russe already in the Navigation station running through pre-flight. “How’s the weather looking?” she asked in a chipper voice.

  It wasn’t an idle question; while modern ships were leagues more capable of weathering inclement conditions, a hailstorm at an inopportune moment or the increasingly rare fauna-strike (it used to be called ‘bird strike’ on Earth, but when other pnets revealed they had simir problems with flying animals that weren’t fowl, the term was modified) could ground a ship before it even hit the upper atmosphere.

  “Weather is good, a minor rainstorm over the North,” he paused to check the name of the body of water on his console’s terrestrial map, “Torrack’k Ocean, but it should be out of our flight path and we’ll be getting a light mist by the time we hit the stratosphere.”

  Diane took her seat in the captain’s chair, “Excellent! Anything up with the space nes as far as we know?”

  “Negative,” answered Russe with a jaunty flipping of switches, “Traffic control reports plenty of elbow room and the route is marked clear.”

  The clearing of a throat distracted their pre-flight banter. Diane spun her chair enough to see Sani standing in the archway leading to the common area, biting her lip and looking for all the world like a kid about to ask for what they wanted for their birthday. Diane smirked, “Yes, Sani?”

  “Can I take the Helm station?” Diane gnced to Russe in surprise to see he was wearing a matching expression. She turned back to Sani, who’d begun mincing her feet a little in apparent nervousness. “I’ve done my time in the sims and gotten my certification and everything!”

  Diane’s eyebrow went up, “When did you have time for…?” Sani gave her a look that spoke heavily of ‘really?’, “…right, cranked up your clock speed. Well, so long as we can get the cert on file…” she was interrupted by a ‘ding’ from the control panel on her chair’s arm while Sani’s grin spread wide and hopeful. Diane tabbed the button to bring up on the five centimeter dispy a notification of crew certification and posting, now listing Sani as ‘reserve Helm-certified flight officer.’

  Diane gave Sani a mock gre, “…if it weren’t so cool, I’d say all those new abilities you have was cheating.”

  “So, I can run Helm?” asked the girl, bouncing on her toes.

  Diane let out a long-suffering sigh, “Yes, you can run Helm.”

  “Shotgun!” blurted Sani as she darted around the captain's chair to the vacant seat.

  As Sani got started on her checklists and began coordinating with Russe, Diane heard another set of footsteps behind her and turned to see Somnirelith entering the bridge. Diane nodded and pulled one of the swing-arm consoles that surrounded the captain’s station over to begin her own pre-flight checks.

  The newest member of their party came to a stop next to Diane, about an arm’s length between them, watching them work some of the time, but mostly staring out the main dispy port that took up the front wall of the bridge. “Something catch your interest?” asked Diane neutrally.

  “I…have never risen from the ground when not under my own control. I am not sure if I’m looking forward to the experience or dreading it.”

  Diane allowed a brief chuckle, “Well, seating is limited on the bridge. If you’re gonna be up here, you’ll be standing the whole time.”

  “That is acceptable. I would like to see us rise above the clouds to where the sky turns bck.”

  Diane paused and turned to her adoptive sister, “…let me guess, you’ve tried it unassisted before, haven’t you?”

  Somnirelith blushed, “I…have. Several times. I managed to hold my breath long enough to watch the sun rise at the point where the atmosphere is so thin wings could barely grab enough lift. There’s a…halo, I believe is the word, that appears just as the sun is about to breach the curve of the pnet, and then suddenly the star that gives us life is blindingly radiant in ways that cannot be seen from the surface, or even the lower altitudes.”

  Diane smiled and scanned her dispy, realizing that she’d finished her checklist. She pushed the screen away and leaned back in her chair, “I somehow doubt that it was as much of a toss-up as you made it seem that you’re coming with us instead of your sister.”

  Somnirelith gave her a ‘I’m wiser than you’ smile, “Koarwin is your sister, as well.”

  Diane flinched just a touch and hoped the Matron didn’t notice. “Then maybe I’ll get a chance to meet her someday.”

  Russe interjected with, “Pre-flight is complete, we’re ready to go.”

  Diane gave him a grin, “So, what do you think this time, Picard?”

  Sani turned to gnce between the two of them in confusion, “What’s a ‘pick-ard’?”

  Russe hissed through is teeth, inhaling as he cringed, “Uh-oh, you’re in for it now!”

  Diane chuckled, “Oh, no. She’s getting the full treatment, along with this one,” Diane thumbed over her shoulder to indicate the newest member of their party, “Nobody who serves on my crew gets out of Trek nights.”

  “Oh, are we going hiking?” asked Somnirelith guillessly.

  Diane and Russe chuckled. “Not that kind of ‘trek,’ though points for effort,” Diane expined without crification, “But back to the most important matter; Picard? Ye or nay?”

  Russe shook his head, “Overused, I lost count of the starship captains I’ve served with who used that one. You should do Seven!”

  “We did Seven…two trips ago? Three?” Diane replied, “I feel like we use hers a lot.”

  “I mean, can’t go wrong with a cssic. What about Dal?”

  “Fun but not really momentous, Pike?”

  “New-vies or SNW?”

  “SNW, I’m not keen on the whole ‘alternate universe’ thing right now.”

  Russe exaggerated a flinch, “Ouch, sorry. That knocks Lorca clean out, too. And no, you do Pike way too much.”

  “It’s a cssic!”

  “So is Seven’s and you vetoed her. Janeway?”

  Diane thought for a moment then nodded her head, “Janeway it is. Everyone buttoned down?” she tabbed the internal comms channel, “Norma? All the hatches battened? Mainsail raised?”

  Norma’s hollered reply could be heard both from the comms speaker and through the hatch to the back half of the ship, “Just get us underway, dork!”

  Diane thumbed off the comms, “You heard the dy, Russe. Do it!”

  “Aye-aye, captain!” enthused Russe as he engaged the atmospheric thrusters.

  [colpse]