[usstempest] Are You Here?

Are You Here?

by Ensigns Moira "Icebreaker" O'Donnell and Edward "Squeak" Harris



Ambling across the hanger deck, Edward still winced occasionally as his bruises 
worked their way out. Some of the colours his skin seemed to be turning amazed 
him. The bruise on his chest alone was a good contender for the Turner Prize. 
He knew that a trip to sickbay might be order, but that could wait until they 
were at least preparing to leave the station.

A sudden stream of Gaelic invective, interspersed with healthy bursts of 
Anglo-Saxon assaulted his eardrums. That does not sound good.

"Moira, does calling the fighter's parentage into question in two languages 
actually help you fix the problem?" he chuckled.

"Well I tried talking to her nicely, but the bitch keeps insisting that she's 
currently in orbit around B'hava'el IV." Exasperated, she continued, "At least 
she's got the star system right this time."

Raising a Vulcan-like eyebrow, I have to ask. "Why? Where was she originally?"

Untangling herself from the Kaneda's isolinear circuitry and dismantled LCARS 
display, his navigator dropped to the floor. Giving him a killer smile, "Go on 
have a guess. You'll never get it, not in a million years." Her emerald eyes 
flashed with a mixture of anger and mischief, strands of copper coming loose 
from bun on the back of her head.

Edward sighed. Why can't anything be simple and straight-forward with you? 
"Okay. Rura Penthe?"

Her brow furrowed briefly. "Good try, but no. Remus." She chewed thoughtfully 
on her lip. "Distance from Sector 001 was about right, the bearing was more 
than 180 degrees out though."

Processing this, Harris shook his head. "It's a brand new ship, there's bound 
to be teething problems all over. Be best to file a report for the new boss 
when he or she gets here."

Nodding agreement, O'Donnell turned and climbed back into the cockpit. "I 
s'pose so. Rumour has it we're not even goin' t'get a shakedown cruise before 
going through 'The Plughole'."

Scowling at his partners arse as it waved at him above the rim, he snapped 
"Moira O'Donnell, I do wish you wouldn't be so disparaging about something that 
an entire race has at the core of it's belief system."

Her face replaced her behind, a reproving look upon it. "Master Edward, are you 
scolding me again?" She shot her eyebrows into her hairline. "Perhaps you 
should come up here and attempt to punish me for my misdemeanours against the 
Bajoran people."

He saw the challenge in her eyes. "I don't think so. I've had more than enough 
flying without spacecraft recently, thankyou."

Replacing the final isolinear chip and ignoring her pilot, Moira fired up the 
console. "Computer. Where is this Kaneda currently positioned?"

"This fighter is currently within the hanger deck of the USS Tempest, 
NCC-80813, docked at Deep Space 9."

Punching the air in triumph, she smiled again. "It's difficult enough to keep 
track of where we are when you're driving, without having the nav computer out 
of whack."

"Why do you insist on flying with me then?"

Returning to the floor in one fluid movement, she stepped forward and ruffled 
his hair. "Because my darling little man, unlike most pilots you think with 
this head and not the one between your legs."

With that she strode to the door, and turned. "Are you coming? I want to find 
out if that arrogant South African has found out anything yet."



                
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