Arriving at Starbase 42

[Amanda Rose]

Getting onto the Starbase was going to be an issue. However, getting to sickbay was quite another. Zuub had the schematics of Starbase 42, but looking at them seemed to be in complete contrast for what she witnessed from the ship scans. Even if it the Starbase schematics were accurate, one had to wonder how accurate the information would be given that the station was abandoned and in a great state of chaos. Would the computer even recognize the missing or broken sections of the Starbase? It was something that Zuub did not wish to consider. Would sickbay even have the proper equipment? Would it have to be completely remade? What supplies were still viable?

Resigned to her fate that she was not going to get to sickbay in the immediate future, she headed to the mess hall on the Tim Allen, hoping that there might be something to eat or someone to talk to or even better, play with while she passed the time. What she saw when she got to the mess hall made her pause. The short, stocky woman was blue and had antennae. She clearly was Andorian. But something was wrong with the other Andorian. Zuub could not place her antennae on it at this moment but she knew that something was off about this other Andorian other than the obvious height issue.

Zuub wondered who this Andorian was. What clan did she belong to? While Andor had succumbed to a democracy, that did not mean that the clan wars and wars for territory did not continue. Even when there was no war, there always were other versions of competition between the clans. A second Andorian on this starbase could either be delightful or quite messy depending on their familial relations. She only wondered if this Andorian thought her ale could possibly be better than her own clan's. After all, it was a matter of pride to claim to have the best ale in Andor and disagreements were common.

By now, Zuub was certain that this other Andorian had sensed her there. Nonetheless, Zuub approached cautiously. Her antennae stood rigidly upright and twittered excitedly. As she got closer to the foreign Andorian, she stated in a soft, wispy voice, "Good day. I am Lieutenant Commander Zuub, the Chief Medical Officer of this starbase. May I ask who you are?"

tag - Talla (or others walking in)

[Sjet]

[SabrinaPandora]

An officer walked in. Talla’s keen eye searched the collar- two and a half. Lieutenant commander. In blue, so science or medical. She was very slender, Talla did think enviously. She checked the exits and took stock of everyone in the room, noticing Talla noticing her. Watching an average height human pass before the lieutenant commander, Talla’s brows the color of dirty snow came together as her antenna tips opened wide even as the stalks came together a bit then began to rise as the doctor... she had that sharp diagnostic look about her that would make her good at mysteries. Definitely... a... doctor...

As the women entered Talla’s space, the little lieutenant looked up, and up. It took her by surprise, and she would have stepped back save that she was coming to attention. She had been told to report. This was a superior officer.

By now, Zuub was certain that this other Andorian had sensed her there. Nonetheless, Zuub approached cautiously. Her antennae stood rigidly upright and twittered excitedly. As she got closer to the foreign Andorian, she stated in a soft, wispy voice, "Good day. I am Lieutenant Commander Zuub, the Chief Medical Officer of this starbase. May I ask who you are?"

“Uh... uhm... “ Talla stammered, looking up at the lieutenant commander. Her antennas wobbled a bit as she blinked those big flat blue eyes of hers while she attempted to process the sight of the tallest Andorian she’d seen for a long time. Big. Her eyes... her eyes are yellow. Yellow? She is very big, I think. Report, dummy! Report!

“I am Lieutenant Talla P’Trell, chief of security and tactical of- of...” the squeaky-voiced sprite’s gaze flickered about a bit, vainly seeking some clue as to her location. The short and thick bodied Andorian woman nibbled on her lower lip then lowered her head, looking disturbingly like a lost child. “I... I think? It is usually my job, but I do not know where I am I do not think.”

~Tagatta Zuub

[Nevian]

TAG-Sai'tan

MESS HALL

Oberth class ships were small affairs, mostly designed for scouting and scientific research. During the Dominion War they'd taken on the role of combat mechnaics, ferrying relief supplies and repair crews from battle field to rear line at high warp. They were not designed for comfort, and they were not designed to be spacious: the mess hall showed this. It had a single large picture window, with four rows of folded metal table filling it with replicator cubby's along the far wall. The side walls were Starfleet Grey but bore the marks of former mission statements and banners. 'USS Tim Allen, NCC-8965: To Improve, To Infinity, And Beyond'. There was also the portrait of a long dead human comedian from the 20th century next to that motto plate: apparently they shared the same name but there was no relation.

Most of the Starbase's skeleton staff were on hand, milling and mingling before the picture window and its view of the hypnotically radiate gas giant of Tangerine. Two Andorains in quiet conversation, the spike haired scientist, and the detail oriented Vulcan. By all accounts the Andorians were the chiefs of medical and station security, whilst the spiked haired woman was the deputy head of the anaemic science detachment assigned to the station. Capitan Sjet felt a momentary pang of jealousy, realising that those scientists would be getting the opportunity of a life time to study the subspace maelstrom of The Shoal. But when studying sharks, it was always best to avoid doing so from the inside whenever possible: Sjet would wait for the peer-review. He watched the Vulcan chief engineer walk in, and Capitan Sjet frowned.

===

The recently commissioned, rather re-commissioned, grey haired lieutuenant Sai'tan, soon to be Midway's chief engineer moved to the stand beside the spike haired science department head.
The tall woman had an aroma of coffee and keytones, her hair spiked differently today than before.

" Dr. Jones. " he nodded in greeting before turning to face the rest of the compartment, to wait on the briefing to start.
" Did you have time to review my remarks on your requested sensor array modifications? "

" I've further thought about the depth of field penetration, it can be improved by 13% if the primary scanning modules are upgraded. The secondary modules can be tasked to redundant verification in case of disruption in the main units assigned bandwidth. "

[Ciara Mei]

Zayna walked through the corridors somewhat blindly. Yes, she’d memorized the layout of the ship a while back, not that it mattered. She was going to be on whatever was left of Starbase 42 here soon. She’d been off reading over a few thing. Okay, more than a few things, when she heard the call for everyone to meet up. She hated those meetings, but it did always help that she could learn more about the people she’d be working with.

She heard voices already speaking when she walked into the mess hall, and she knew she was late. Not that Zay cared at that moment. She stayed toward the back of the room, watching everyone else and switching to a blank spot on her PADD so she could take some notes. She was used to having to watch people, and that’s what she instinctively did. She didn’t pay much attention to what was actually being said, though it probably would be a good idea. She’d pick up on the main words of the meeting and then be on her way.

Tags: Anyone watching.

[Amanda Rose]

[Sjet]

He looked friendly enough on the outside. Time and contentment had leant him the step and look of a country doctor, the sort of fellow who would just as happily help you fix a flat tyre as mend a broken arm. Even the smile on his face looked as though he had been let in on a universal truism that was as plain as the ridges on his nose. It was only when you looked closer, when you really looked past the outward facade of pleasantries and assumptions, that there seemed to be something off about the man.

His smile reached only as far as his lips, and eyes that should have twinkled with folksy wisdom were as flat and dead as those of a shark. They were eyes made ancient by time and the hard road taken to get there. And if the old saying were true, the soul seen through those windows was one darkened and burned to char in places. He walked with brisk efficiency, as though counting off the steps against a quota he allowed himself each month for frivolous activity. But those were the small oddities, the ones a trained eye looked for if at first you didn’t spontaneously combust from embarrassment from being caught staring.

His left ear was missing.

This is not to say that by some genetic misfortune the ear did not grow, or otherwise need to be medical removed for his own health. The ear had been hacked off the same way a side of meat was butchered, with a similar amount of screaming and thrashing as was to be expected. The blade hadn’t been sharp, but then again it had been a long day of butchery before the Quorum Of Grievances had gotten to him. The Quorum had had a long list of people to judge and pass on to the mob for sentencing, so it made sense to get the paper work out of the way.

State your name, or if your jaw had been broken or your tongue removed have it spoken for you.
Hear your crimes, but please don’t speak up if there are more listed than were committed.
Be permanently scarred and marked for life, and try not to worry about the blood loss as that is the least of your troubles.
Then be tossed out into the courtyard of the old Calden City Legal Theatre where a mob of your peers, and a cart of mining slag and rusted rebar, waited to give you their civic duty.
To be a Calden City grave digger on that day was to be a man well paid for his work.

Doctor Santra Arron, Dr Santra to everyone he deemed to regard as needing to know his name, was a man who knew the cost of ones ideals. The ruined crater of scar tissue that had once been his left ear, the traditional place where the Bajoran religious fetish of a ear ring chain rested, was a constant reminder of commitment to ones beliefs. Many Bajorans believed that the left ear was the one in which the Prophets whispered their words of guidance and love into the souls of all true believers. Santra would have thanked the hastily appointed Quorum members who had rushed through two mass graves of ‘reparations’ before the Federation peace keepers turned up to spoil their fun. By scaring him thusly they had removed the traditional perch from which all madness entered the Bajoran condition.

Were they not zealots who believed in invisible friends, he might have shook their hands,

But that was a long time ago. Time enough for him to busy himself with his work, work made plentiful and varied by his new employers in the United Federation of Planets. He wore a uniform he detested, served a government that was worryingly suffering from a moral schism when it came to the ends justifying the means, and had been reassigned to a sector of space that was almost homely. And to top it all off he had been interrupted from reading his book by some young pup of a captain, a man who had not taken the polite hint to leave him be when they had left Antares for SB42, to attend a social mixer. Oh it had been dressed up as a chance to set forth the stations primary mission statement, and to engage in preliminary discourse over the allocation of their sparse resources. But that just meant this was an even bigger waste of time.

Santra Arron was a genius, this was a quantifiable fact. If there was anyones opinion he would be interested in listening to, it would be his and his alone. This crew of misfits and dullards were assembled to serve his needs, and if need be the needs of his gracious sponsors back in the United Federation of Planets. He’d find busy work for the lot of them: from fixing a hopelessly broken space station, to trying to untangle the mysteries of The Shoal. Something nice, endless, and utterly pointless: it would be like own his very own life sized ant farm. If he did it right he would have to expend very little energy interacting with any of them, leaving him to continue his work in peace.

That thought brought a smile to his face, one that touched off a gentle twinkle in his eyes. He almost looked friendly when he walked into the mess hall, hair neatly groomed and uniform immaculate, and stalked over to Captain Sjet with the same mincing foot step. He kept smiling all the while, right up to the point where he verbally stabbed Captain Sjet brutally.

“Summon me like some first year Ensign again, Captain Sjet,” he said in a calm voice “And you will not much enjoy the results of of your erroneous assumption that I am at your beck and call.”

“Never crossed my mind Dr Santra.” the tall human said, nodding his head in deference. Arron sniffed lightly in thought, not immediately returning to his lethal level of scorn at the use of his title over that inane honorific of ‘captain’. Dress a dullard in a Fleet Admirals uniform and salute him for a month of Sundays, and you still had a dullard: though a well dressed one at that. But a doctor, now that was a title that had to be earn through the application of intellectual reasoning. That actually meant something.

“I assume the Tellerite and his Engineers are beaming over as we speak to repair the station’s primary infrastructure? Or are we to hold a glad handing ceremony for them as well?” Arron enquired.

“You are correct, in your own way. The 82nd Construction Company will get SB42 up and running and patched up enough to hold in air: they’re not out fitted for anything more than that. The Tim Allen’s a good ship, but compared to some of the monster Mobile Dry Dock vessels they could have sent instead, we’re fit for basic repairs only.” Sjet smiled and patted Arron on the arm “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure when we leave your fit as a fiddle as far as the necessaries go: power, air, water and food. Everything else will be up to your Chief Engineer.”

“I’m sure we’ll make do with the basics.” Arron said slowly, mulling over his thoughts “No more, and no less.”

Captain Sjet had the horrible feeling that phrase would become the watch word for this station. But he was the Captain of a starship, and more than happy to stay that way without taking over the running of an outpost furtherest from any bright point in the sky. The crew of SB42 would just have to deal with the scarred Bajorans eccentricities, or learn to survive them. Failing that the USS Tim Allen could always use a few newly transferred hands on the trip back to civilisation.

TAG-All

Captain Santra Arron
Station Administrator
Starbase 42

[SabrinaPandora]

"T-t-the Constitution 7, Lieutenant Commander Zuub," Talla stammered out. This was not going well- Talla was making a bad impression, and she knew it. But she did not know where she was nor was she certain how she had gotten here. So the truth was as always her default. Which in this case just made her sound dumber than usual. She's hoped the Amazonian officer might jade filled in a blank or two, but mostly she just had that look that said Talla was going to be on report very shortly.

Perspiration beaded at her brow as the little lieutenant's runaway body temperature kicked up a few more notches as anxiety gripped her and she cast about for some sort of right answe, finding none. Instead there was just that disapproving look that made her feel very uncomfortable. The way mist Andorians looked at her, really. Right now she was very much regretting not saying a lot less, she did think. Right now the very tall lieutenant commander was looking at her like a lab specimen, and Talla P'Trell was wishing she could get a whole lot smaller.

-tag Zuub

[Ciara Mei]

Zayna listened in and kept taking notes. She was still hidden away, even though she was supposed to be there. She normally kept to herself, because that was what she was used to. At least, normally she was. She watched everyone again, not wanting to step out of the shadows unless she was called upon.

What was she supposed to be doing, anyways? She’d been forced here, but it was better than the alternative. She just was never a huge fan of the scut work. That’s what she was stuck doing now, but no one else here really knew her exact past, and she hoped to keep it that way for a while.

Zay also kept her eyes on the others there, wishing she could listen in on what was being said. She had to stop thinking like that, but it was in her nature for the last few years, listening to everything possible. Not her place now, she had to remember that.

Tag to anyone wanting to pull her out of the shadows.

[Amanda Rose]

An officer walked in. Talla’s keen eye searched the collar- two and a half. Lieutenant commander. In blue, so science or medical. She was very slender, Talla did think enviously. She checked the exits and took stock of everyone in the room, noticing Talla noticing her. Watching an average height human pass before the lieutenant commander, Talla’s brows the color of dirty snow came together as her antenna tips opened wide even as the stalks came together a bit then began to rise as the doctor... she had that sharp diagnostic look about her that would make her good at mysteries. Definitely... a... doctor...

As the women entered Talla’s space, the little lieutenant looked up, and up. It took her by surprise, and she would have stepped back save that she was coming to attention. She had been told to report. This was a superior officer.

By now, Zuub was certain that this other Andorian had sensed her there. Nonetheless, Zuub approached cautiously. Her antennae stood rigidly upright and twittered excitedly. As she got closer to the foreign Andorian, she stated in a soft, wispy voice, "Good day. I am Lieutenant Commander Zuub, the Chief Medical Officer of this starbase. May I ask who you are?"

“Uh... uh... “ Talla stammered, looking up at the lieutenant commander. Her antennas wobbled a bit as she blinked those big flat blue eyes of hers as she attempted to process the sight of the tallest Andorian she’d seen for a long time. <i>Big. She is very big, I think. Report! Report!</i>.

“I am Lieutenant Talla P’Trell, chief of security and tactical of- of...” the squeaky-voiced sprite’s gaze flickered about a bit, vainly seeking some clue as to her location. The short and thick bodied Andorian woman nibbled on her lower lip then lowered her head, looking disturbingly like a lost child. “I... I think? It is usually my job, but I do not know where I am I do not think.”

Zuub's antennae drooped and started to lash about. Zuub knew for certain that there was something very definitely wrong with this Lieutenant P'Trell. Was she delusional? Was she suffering from amnesia? Or was she simply insane? Zuub's antennae drooped again at the last thought. She had never seen another Andorian like this one and it could have been fun to play with her. But now, that was unlikely. "You are not certain that you are the Chief of Security? You do not know where you are?" Zuub asked with no change in her tone of voice. "Where and when was the last time that you were certain of where you were and what your job was, Lieutenant P'Trell?"

T-t-the Constitution 7, Lieutenant Commander Zuub," Talla stammered out. This was not going well- Talla was making a bad impression, and she knew it. But she did not know where she was nor was she certain how she had gotten here. So the truth was as always her default. Which in this case just made her sound dumber than usual. She's hoped the Amazonian officer might have filled in a blank or two, but mostly she just had that look that said Talla was going to be on report very shortly.

Perspiration beaded at her brow as the little lieutenant's runaway body temperature kicked up a few more notches as anxiety gripped her and she cast about for some sort of right answer, finding none. Instead there was just that disapproving look that made her feel very uncomfortable. The way most Andorians looked at her, really. Right now she was very much regretting not saying a lot less, she did think. Right now the very tall lieutenant commander was looking at her like a lab specimen, and Talla P'Trell was wishing she could get a whole lot smaller.

"That is most unusual," Zuub observed. "After our Commander meets with us here, I should like to examine you in great detail. Do you have a copy of your latest medical records on you?"

"Yes, L-Lieutenant Commander Zuub," Talla replied with resignation. Doctor. Doctor meant prodding and poking and having to explain her defects and getting lectured about all sorts of things and how fascinating a specimen she was. Outwardly her antennae wilted, but she didn't voice any of her numerous misgivings at that question as she popped a data crystal out of her left gauntlet and dutifully handed it over.

Zuub noticed Talla's antennae wilting. She took the records and her antennae leaning forward more sympathetically replied questioningly, "This is not the first time for you, is it?" The question was left purposely vague to try and encourage some conversation.

As there tended to be in social situations, Talla was uncertain what the very tall and very thin, she noticed superior officer was asking. It could be about being nervous? Probably not. But it could be about how things tended to go when she met other Andorians, or how doctors always wanted to see her medical records after spending a moment with her. But the most likely scenario was that she meant not knowing quite where she was.

"My last commanding officer was less than open with me about her plans, so... no, Lieutenant Commander Zuub." The polar pixie looked up to meet the gaze of the blue-clad officer. "This is the first time that I do not know where I am AND do not know my assignment. It is.. it is very embarrassing for me professionally." The shoulders slumped a bit and her antenna leaned over to support one another at an off-kilter angle.

“I should say so, Lieutenant. I must say that I do not like the sound of it. You make it sound almost as if you have been used as a constant medical experiment.” Zuub’s antennae began to lash about confused. “I assure you that I have no such intentions. I only wish to assist you.”

“No, not so much since I was little,” the midget explained.”I know. Doctors always want to help. And I need your help when things hurt me. It is necessary, I think.” The grey brows furrowed and she decided she could take a step back. She checked her route then watched the physician as she took a cautious step back. Looking up her nostrils were not so much fun, and now she could see the woman’s face better, and better, her antennae.

Zuub’s antennae started to titillate, showing amusement. She almost wanted to pick up the smaller Andorian so that it would be easier for them to communicate. Instead, she bent down on one knee and asked, “Better? Very rude of me not to consider your situation. I can’t imagine what the view would be like from there, unable to sense me or my antennae.”

The little lieutenant blinked rapidly as the taller woman came down to her level. Seldom did Talla get to see anyone at her own height unless she hung out with children. Which happened almost never in her particularly violent line of work, which she viewed as fortunate. But for the moment she could see the woman almost eye to eye, and see her antennas in full view for a change. Talla’s expression brightened and her antenna blinked along.

“You are very pretty!” P’Trell exclaimed excitedly before hastily adding, “Sir.”

Zuub’s antennae twittered faster. Perhaps there might be playtime with this one in the very near future. However, there would have to be medical clearances first. Something was still not right with this Andorian. “I appreciate the compliment. Off duty, you may call me Zuub. That is, of course, assuming that you are where you belong. There are many mysteries about you.”

“I have led a very interesting life, Lieutenant Commander Zuub. I am apparently a unique specimen according to many.” The somewhat large-headed Andorian stated somewhat flatly with resignation, then she brightened up again, making eye contact once more. “If I am here then I am probably where I am supposed to be. Someone put me here for a reason, I think.”

Someone put me here for a reason Zuub considered. She did not like the sound of it. And then the unAndorian-like hesitation of “I think.” If Zuub did not know better, she would suggest that P’Trell was human. But, she was definitely not a pink skin and her antennae sensed as Andorian antennae.

Zuub’s antennae lashed about trying to solve a problem that had more questions than answers for the time being. “I should be most interested in learning about your life, Lieutenant. And by the way, Doctor is fine. It is too much of a mouthful for anyone to continue saying 'Lieutenant Commander Zuub.'”

“Yes, Lieutenant Commander Zuub,” Lieutenant P’Trell parroted, then balked a bit, eyes and antenna casting about for a second as she pursed her lips. “Doctor. Yes sir.” Once she managed to get it out, she seemed relieved and pleased with herself.

Zuub wondered if all P’Trell did was follow orders. That did not seem wise for someone who was to be a Chief of Security but Zuub could not claim to know much about those areas, well, other than the fact that every Andorian knew that they had to defend their own clan and its lands. Zuub then asked the question that the thought brought on, “Tell me, P’Trell, what clan are you from? Where are your lands?”

“I.. um,” Talla studied her feet for a moment while her antenna looked around a bit broadly. That pit opened up in her stomach, but she knew what it was, because this was nothing new. “I do not have a clan. I was found, but I was raised as a ward of the state on the Issa icecap. I did not- um, do not fit in well.

“When I was young I suffered from um... “ Talla paused for a second, brow furrowing and antennas coming together in focus, “social anxiety disorder. So I did not understand other Andorians, and it made me weird and that made me even less popular which made me even weirder relatively speaking. And so one day I left and took to the stars, like so many of us do. I still do not fit in anywhere, but that is okay. It is better to be the alien in space than the alien on your own planet.”

Zuub nodded, able to understand that point of view. “That is a rather interesting story and somewhat upsetting. I cannot imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. However, the good news is that biology recognizes that and one day, you will hit your second puberty and bond for life, have children, and be whole.”

The antennas shot up on the startled sprite. “SECOND PUBERTY? There is a s-s-second puberty?” the squeaky voice rose into even squeakier territory. “In shelthreth there is another puberty?!?”

Apparently this was news to the adult Andorian, as it seemed the snowbirds and the polar bees had never quite been explained to her, at least insofar as it worked Andorian style.

Zuub’s antennae began to twirl wildly. “What did they teach you up there? Or not, as the case might be.” She tried to calm her antennae but found them wanting. She started to explain in a way that one might explain to one that just hit her first puberty. “During first puberty we Andorians become sexually aware and our sex is known for the first time. This occurs sometime between the ages of 12 and 15. However, second puberty occurs when we find our, as the pink skins might call it, soul mate. Our telepathic abilities become whole with our partner and we bond for life. The emotional attachment is nearly unbreakable. There have been some cases where one Andorian has survived the death of the other, but they are rare, given the strength of the bond. In any event, once that second puberty hits, pregnancy is nearly automatic as biology demands it. And then we, as women, generally bear our first litter.”

Zuub paused and her antennae settled a bit. “Does this make more sense to you, now?”

Slowly the little lieutenant raised her hand. Waiting through the ongoing speech she blanched a bit at the death part, but held her hand up as if a cadet in class. Called upon, she lowered her hand. “I have questions please doctor?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

“I th-thought it took f-f-four to make shelthreth?” Talla asked, her voice lowered in a surprising display of subtlety.

Zuub nodded. “Tradition dictates that four are required to marry. However, only two are required for the bonding process. I believe that there is historical tradition centering around two becoming one and another representation of two couples becoming, essentially two of the same. But, I am not a historian and do not delve too much into those matters. The biology is clear, with or without the traditional shelthreth. One male, one female and then one litter.”

“Oh. I d-did not, did not know that. I thought... um, they told me.. oh. Uhm.” The little lieutenant’s eyes filled with tears and she blinked them away, determined not feel this right now in front of people and especially her doctor did not need to think that she was this-what were the words- emotionally fragile. Talla P’Trell’s brows the color of dirty snow furrowed as she worked to stifle herself.

“Are you alright?” Zuub asked, concern showing in her antennae leaning in directly towards P’Trell? “Do we need to go to sickbay now?”

“Um, n-no sir. Fine. It is fine. I am fine,” the rapidly blinking security chief took a large snort of air then calmed herself, turning the dial on her coldsuit up a bit to soothe herself. “I was- we never bonded. And I did not know many things because I did not ask. And when he- they, um inappropriate this is, this is an inappropriate conversation for a meeting in the mess hall with a superior officer at a command mixer.” Talla blinked rapidly, her antenna taking in the room.

“Never bonded?” Zuub was more curious. There was much more to this Andorian than met the antennae. Every time that Zuub thought she could not be surprised by her, something more surprised her about the P’Trell. “You had a long term playmate, then?” Her antennae expressed more concern as Zuub’s soft, wispy voice grew softer. “Perhaps we should talk about this during your examination? It would be more private.”

“Um, yes, that would be more apro-apr-appropriate,” the security smurf stammered out. Even having turned down her coldsuit, the twitchy little woman was breaking out in a swet. This was, after all, an awful lot to process and she realized how long the two of them had been talking down here. Then it dawned on her- the Doctor Lieutenant Commander Zuub was still down here. Other officers were talking, catching up, making friends and sizing one another up. Instead she was down here talking to Talla.

The liliputian lieutenant’s antennas settled into a happy expression and she straightened up a bit. Talla was not used to meeting people who could change her life so quickly, who would come to her level just to talk to her. This was a very good sign, she did think.

“Very well,” Zuub answered. “We will discuss more after this meeting. It has been a long time since I have had a lengthy conversation with anyone from homeworld,” she told Talla somewhat distractedly. She sensed more people entering the room. Could one be Santra?

“It is very nice to meet you, Doctor. I am glad that you are here. And me too. Should we divide and conquer, sir?” Lieutenant P’Trell chirped quietly in somewhat stiff Andorian with a terrible accent.

Zuub’s antennae twittered in Andorian laughter. That sounded more like a typical Andorian behavior. “For now. When the meeting is over,” Zuub continued, her antennae now starting to writhe slightly, flirting with P’Trell, “you’re with me.”

“Yes sir!” Lieutenant P’Trell exclaimed, snapping to a salute. Which was mildly ridiculous since Zuub couldn’t return the salute officially while genuflecting.

Zuub rose, once again towering over P’Trell. “As you were, Lieutenant. We’re supposed to be social and I really do not prefer standing on ceremony. I will see you soon.”