Grease Lightning

Posted on Sat Sep 10th, 2022 @ 3:20am by Captain Callisi Verra & Cadet First Class Pallas

Mission: The Goddess
Location: Fighter Bay
Timeline: Backpost -- sometime after "Exobiology"
7035 words - 14.1 OF Standard Post Measure

Cadet First Class Pallas had been given a formal tour of some of the main parts of the ship, but she knew from reviewing the ship's deck listings and design during her long trip from Earth on the USS Himalaya that she'd only seen the tip of the iceberg. The Sovereign-class was massive, so massive that it was like it had its own fleet within it. Though Pallas wasn't a fan of flying, she was a fan of seeing how things worked, and had made a plan for herself to use some of her downtime to see where things were made. Or fixed, at least. One such stop was the Fighter Bay, home to an entire Starfighter Wing. She imagined this is where many of her Academy classmates that either succeeded or wanted to be part of Red, Falcon, or Nova Squadrons (why would anyone want to be part of Red Squadron, given their reputation?) came to drool over the real deal. But Pallas didn't want to sit behind the stick; she just wanted to get her hands dirty.

The Fighter Bay was normally seen as a pristine storage facility for the latest and greatest in Federation craft. Clean, organized, spotless. This was not that. The fighter bay here was a bay where work was done. A toolbox was open near one of the more-complete craft, and a pair of large, broad paws hung out from underneath the craft. Tools were taken out, tools were put back in, but the end consideration was that SOMEONE was working on this one. Parts were taken out, and put in from a pile near the box. Apparently whoever it was that was under that unit knew their way around a fighter craft.

"Is someone there?" a female voice called out from under the fighter.

"Cadet First Class Pallas..." She almost added 'sir' out of instinct--pretty much everyone on the ship outranked her--but she stopped herself, realizing that it could be one of the enlisted personnel. How odd, she had thought when she first got to the Academy and learned about the proper formalities related to rank, that a cadet still completely green technically outranked enlisted personnel who may have spent a whole career in Starfleet. The cadet walked toward the voice and one of the only vessels in the bay that looked like it might last more than 30 seconds in open space. This was definitely not what Pallas had expected to see when she had been on her way here. She had heard about the attack on the Gladiator from multiple officers now, and was aware that there had been extensive damage, but the general lack of flight-ready fighters was still a shocking site. "Sorry for coming in unannounced."

"You're fine, just be careful not to get hurt." the voice said, concerned, as a hand reached out from under the chassis of the fighter craft and pulled the figure out from underneath. She was unmistakable, this was Captain Verra. The figure, the form, the ears, the ... there it was. A prominent feature of the flight commander was a simple black eyepatch that covered her right eye, and the thin black string that wrapped around her head to keep it in place. A thick vertical scar peaked out above the patch, and below it. That simple feature told one hell of a story. From underneath that eyepatch came a soft, dim, blue dot of a glow, It's quite possible she had a prosthetic under that patch, but she hid it all the same.

Callisi's remaining eye was just as interesting as her missing one. A blue eye, set in her soft white fur, though unlike every other blue eye seen by the cadet possibly in their entire life, this eye had no shine to it. Just a flat, matte painting of an eye, a pool of color one could get lost in if they let themselves go.

She brushed herself off, then stood a bit straighter, long lengthy ears perked up as she did so. "Good to meet you. Captain Callisi Verra. I'll be the element command of this wing, once the wing is declared spaceworthy."

Pallas remembered Commander Torma's warning against staring. The admonition was actually easier to follow than Pallas had feared it might be, given the captivating uniqueness of the visible blue eye. "Thank you for the welcome, Captain. It's good to meet you, as well." The cadet looked around the bay. "Others had told me about the attack on the Gladiator, but I didn't realize that the fighter wing had also been devastated like this. Were you onboard when it happened?"

She gave a nod, "Of course, be welcome." there was a sense of protocol there. It wasn't a simple greeting, it was an invitation to be here, like how to welcome someone into your home. "And good to meet you too. Be at ease." she offered before turning back to the craft. "I wasn't here when the attack happened, so all I have to go off of are the wrecks and the damage it left behind. I'm trying to cobble together the parts I have here, bringing the least damaged models up to par. It's slow going, though, but Engineering has more important tasks at the moment than intensive fighter maintenance. So, I'm handling things until we're in the clear."

She motioned to one of the craft. "That one is fixed, starworthy, and armed. I'd like two more for at least a Wing."

“Oh but for an industrial replicator,” Pallas sighed as she looked at the one that was done and the remaining scrap piles. She could see from the difference the enormity of the captain’s challenge: not only were none of the others able to fly, it wasn’t even clear that there were enough undamaged parts to cobble together the wing that Verra was aiming for. As she reflected on that, Pallas also noticed that there wasn’t any other obvious crew around at the moment. “So no help from Engineering because they need to stitch the ship back together… but are you the only one here? No other pilots?”

"Oh give me a Dalacari Mass Fabricator right now and I'd be in heaven." Callisi agreed, relaxing her guard a bit to just enjoy the mutual dream. "I've watched them essentially print out fighters by the dozen. Some would call it terrifying, but when one of those fighters they're printing out is going to be your wing drone, you learn to appreciate it more." she paused, "Oh, you probably didn't ... so..." she cleared her throat a bit, "Dalacari use drones for their military. Foot soldiers, air support, aquatic assault ventures, almost the entirety of their armed forces are drones. Not to mention most of their menial labor, manual tasks, groundskeeping, social assistance..." she made a motion with her hand to simulated the 'and on and on and on'.

"You get the picture. But yeah, give me a fabrication unit right now, and I'd be set. But, you make due with what you're given. The other flight staff are off helping out the other departments. Engineering needed hands to make sure all the EPS links were up and all the power distribution nodes were in place. We can't really patch up the actual core but we can do the leg work. Besides right now, we have One Fighter." she pointed. "So all we need is One Pilot. I was an ace back home. Earned my Red, flew Blinks into the dark. Went on for troop transport sorties, did a few grey ops. Dropped behind Koldaran lines. Deep behind Koldaran lines."

She grew silent. Her remaining glance became somewhat distant. "Had an incident on a mission, and was grounded. Went to Operations for a bit but I had to find a way to get back to the stars on my terms. Gladiator gave me that chance on an exchange program. So here I am." she explained, leaving out a lot of details that, she felt, were obvious to those who could look. Or to someone who had a Dalacari insider tipping them off.

"Apologies, I was caught in a ramble there."

“I’m just glad to know I’m not the only person on this ship who rambles, sir. No apology needed.” Pallas had, in fact, been caught rambling to several senior officers during her short time on the Gladiator so far. “I took an introductory xenoanthropology course on Delta Quadrant civilizations… I think Commander Torma called it ‘the home sectors.’ So I knew a little bit about the extensive use of drones by the Dalacari, but not at that level of detail. It sounds like their Mass Fabricators excel in performance compared to Starfleet technology. It would be fascinating to see.” At the risk of becoming the rambler herself, she turned to the other comments. “I’m glad we have an ace with you, Captain, and one flight ready fighter for you to go out in. It does sound like the people who did this are not going to be very open to diplomacy. But if your other flight staff are helping Engineering, I wonder whether you could use an extra set of hands? I’m detailed on rotation to Medical right now, but I have to admit that I have been feeling antsy in my off-hours. One of my majors is engineering, and I’ve been rebuilding things since I could pick up a spanner… nothing as sophisticated as this,” she motioned to the fighter that Callisi was working on. “Most of the technology on Ardana was a century behind the Federation when I was growing up. But I’m a quick learner and have worked on modern tech the last three years.”

"It's actually a frightening level of use. They use their done for everything. Day care, health care, front line, agent line. Anything with an ounce of danger is more than likely replaced by a done. To keep them safe." Callisi commented. "For all their strength, and they're stronger than they look... they're fragile. Hurt one, and you hurt both. And i know, they aren't a both, just easier to describe when one isn't around to correct me." At that the rabbitess giggled. "They come from a slightly higher gravity, so they're built tough."

"We've tried to keep them from studying into synthetic intelligence for a long as we've known them. Last thing anyone wants is for their entire military to start asking why THEY are the front line. So, we try our best to keep things safe. Been that way for hundreds of years so far." At her offer of help, though, Callisi's attention feel right on her. "Is welcome the help, as long as I'm not pulling you from somewhere else." A pause to let that sit, "And i wouldn't worry about these flying boxes being too technical. It's all the same parts, run a scan for faults, feed some of the scrap into the replicator and get the next post you need. Or take it from one of the scrappers." She motioned to the fighters that were, essentially, junk yards waiting to be picked clean.

"What I'd give for a fighter from back in the Navy. If take on the whole of the cosmos myself. I could fix one of those with my e... with one hand behind my back."

"I understand your concern, Captain, and that of your people. Obviously the Federation does, too," the cadet added, "since they banned all synths 12 years ago, after the attack on Mars. I still remember seeing the reports on the news, the absolute devastation caused by a coding error in the A500s... and those were just construction synths. They weren't designed to actually fight. If something similar happened with a whole army of Dalacari drones..." Pallas shook her head. "I didn't have any strong opinions on synths or autonomous AI before that happened, I was just a kid who thought all technology was really, really cool. But I can't imagine that is a good idea. Not given the risks involved. Anyway." The cadet gave a big sigh, and then unzipped and removed her tunic so that she was wearing just her long-sleeved gray work undershirt. "I promised to help, sir, and now I've drawn you into a distracting conversation about ethics of artificial intelligence. I can definitely help patch these back together. Just point me to where you want me so that I don't get in the way, or I'm happy to play runner for you and save you the trips back and forth from the replicator." She picked up a PADD and navigated to a repair app, ready to sync with whatever list Verra was working from.

"Good conversation is a currency to some in the home sectors. To the Sons and Daughters of Ts'usu, it's an art and a passion. We love a good conversation." Calissi classified before turning back to the fighter. "Focus on the rear of the craft. Handle impulse propulsion and the micro reactor core. The fighters won't need an active warp drive to engage hostiles they'll just need mobility. You handle the back, I'll handle the front, and we'll meet in the middle."

"Aye, Captain." Pallas pulled up the craft in question and highlighted the sections Verra had mentioned. When she was first tinkering as a child, she could just break things apart and put them back together without writing anything down, but that was mostly because it was simpler tech, things like old viewing monitors and abandoned sanitizing machines. When she started stalking Starfleet officers on her planet and they took an interest in her, she quickly learned that their devices were much more advanced, and that there was no shame in using the assistance of the Computer. The cadet found an open toolbox and pulled out a spanner and tricorder, and set to work analyzing the state of the impulse engine. "Is it a literal currency?" Pallas asked, elevating her voice to make sure it carried to the front of the fighter where the squadron leader was working. "Good conversation, I mean. Does anyone actually trade in it, or did you mean more metaphorically?" Even in full-on engineer mode, the cadet couldn't turn off the xenoanthropologist part of her brain.

"Oh yes. In the home sectors there are a people called the Trilark. Very intriguing people, ruled by their scientific community." Callisi started, fiddling with something near the nose of the craft as she went. "When the Dalacari started an economic reform for the entire allied arm of the region, they engaged in a debate with the Grand Panel on Trilar. Had to wear encounter suits to actually have that conversation since Trilar is something like ninety seven percent water or something close to it."

"So the debate lasted about three days, with breaks in between for equipment maintenance and food, and in the end the Grand Panel not only accepted the proposal but invented a new currency marker to present to the Dalacari as proof of commitment, and the change from the exchange. The Trilark view ideas and concepts as currency, and the free exchange of them is how they pay off debts. It could take years to resolve a bill if the price is too steep, but it works for them. Personally I prefer the Shoal over the use of concepts. Then again, my people have used the Koku for essentially forever, and it only went through two economic reforms."

"When the Dalacari came up with the idea of a sector wide currency exchange, they initially wanted to base it all off the Koku but we managed to convince them to use their own currency instead, as it was much more stable. And worth a lot more than Seventy Six that's for sure."

"The entire concept of currency fascinates me. Even before joining the Federation, Ardana hadn't had any for something like a millenia. Unfortunately, that was because of the establishment of the apartheid regime: there wasn't much need for currency when everything of value was taken by Stratos and everyone else had to survive on the scraps. So even after the Great Disruption a century ago, there was no basis to try to redesign society as one that used currency. It made reintegrating with the Federation much easier, I think. And then, of course, my whole experience off-world has been on Earth so far, where I get to teleport around to all these amazing places and everything is free. It's really extraordinary. Do you find it strange, being here, coming from your home sectors where the Dalacari exchange and currency have major roles in society?"

She giggled, "Oh I find life out here odd, but not because of the illusion of lack of currency." she started. "Everything has a value, that value is the currency of the realm in the absence of trinkets or baubles. An object might have a connection to a childhood memory, or its presence is calming or pleasing. I don't need to tell you a child's teddy bear costs three koku to tell you it's priceless to that child for keeping the monsters away."

"And if anyone tells you a society is devoid of worth, they're fools. You valued every scrap of food. You cherished every sip of water. The Federation states that they don't have currency, but they actively engage in relations with races that do. So there must be an exchange somewhere." she continued, removing a panel to get to the blown nosecone sensor array. "The Dalacari even established a currency to be used as trade for races that don't engage in currency based trade. The nearly worthless Matter Seventy Six. It's elemental osmium. Rare, pretty, incredibly useful." she paused.

"But to a society that has replicators, rare is a joke. I could tell the replicator over there to get me a ton of osmium and the only problem it would present is transportation. Which is, of course, also a joke." she smirked. "The universal currency of Matter Seventy Six is genius, because to a society WITH replicators, I'm trading you Mass for Mass. I need a pound of food, I give you a pound of Osmium. Deal exchange."

"If you are NOT a replicator society, Osmium is very useful by itself. High end electronics, batteries, power systems, everything needs it and it's rare enough to be valuable. Of course, if you aren't a society that has high end electronics... Osmium is very pretty. Shiny rock trade for shiny rock." she giggled.

Pallas nodded in understanding, even though Callisi was too far away to see her. "Noether's Theorem. The conservation of energy within a symmetrical system. That makes complete sense. Obviously the Federation does suffer from resource limitation, otherwise..." she popped open a panel and exposed an unusable section of EPS relays, "we wouldn't be working on this fighter right now. So, in your view, our time and labor is equivalent to currency, whether or not we use actual physical or recorded electronic currencies. I think the Federation would argue, though, that while they agree that everything has worth and value, there is still a fundamental difference, because the existence of currency on an individual level allows for creation of artificial scarcity and social stratification. I do think, though, that your analysis is correct with regard to pre-Great Disruption Ardana. We definitely had value to everything; that's how Stratos knew what to take away and horde for themselves."

"I'd say 'Who owns the sweat from the brow of man?' but Ts'usugi don't sweat. It's a human saying, anyway." she added. "The Federation sees the value of, well, value. What they strive to remove is the drive to collect that value, the drive to improve the self at the expense of those around. They strive to never again allow what happened to your people, from the sound of it. Give who needs what, to who needs it." she said, oversimplified but direct.

"We value things we lose, no matter what we have to fill the gap." she said, softly, before returning to the conversation. "There's another people out in the home sectors that have a concept of currency I think you'd appreciate. The Slate, they're living sentient silicon life. Rocks, essentially." a pause, "They're lithovores, consuming rich minerals and even using the mineral worth of their worlds to procreate. They were given the concept of currency in the notion that they could exchange material they don't want for material they do want. Trick is, how do you value material when your people EAT material?"

She giggled again. "They use Feldspar as a currency, because they hate the way it tastes." a pause again, "Fool's Gold. After all these eons, it finally has worth."

"Humans do have a lot of sayings. Maybe its their currency," Pallas laughed. Working as they were, nothing to worry about except putting back together the thing that was in front of them, gave the cadet an ease she hadn't had since leaving Earth. Since before that, actually, since writing her thesis had been an absolute stress hole. "I'd like to meet the Slate. I can see why Matter Seventy Six makes sense as a universal currency, I guess there is an obvious question, though: just how tasty do the Slate think Matter Seventy Six is? Like, are they getting a better deal than everyone else because it's the height of cuisine, or are they getting shortchanged because its the equivalent of a gruel?"

"I've never met a Slate, but conversing with them is an exercise in patience. For the most part, they can't comprehend of any unit of time faster than a minute, so conversations with them take a very long time. They also communicate through sub-harmonic rumbling, and need a translation device to speak in words that we, as 'Air Talkers' can understand. Otherwise it's all just rumbles and vibrations." she started. "As for how they feel about Matter Seventy Six I hear they find it absolutely delicious. They borrow and purchase replicators since they can't build them themselves, but they actually prefer the natural worth of a world rather than synthetic minerals. They're a fascinating people. Nothing they do can be done fast. Everything they do, takes however long it takes."

"They held a vote once to elect a new leader. Took twenty six years." she paused, "And it was considered a swift turn around."

"There's a value in patience. And a value in expediency. I'd hate to be someone who needed help but couldn't get it because deliberations took years. Maybe I'm just an impatient 'Air Talker,'" she smirked as she started making a pile of the parts she needed to replace, logging them on her PADD, saving herself multiple trips to the replicator. Another panel blinked on her screen and she popped open the corresponding panel. Burnt out circuits here. Not salvageable. "Now I want to meet the Slate just to ask them about how their taste works. Sounds I would need an extra long leave for that field visit, though. How about your people? I've read a little about the Ts'usugi, but nothing close enough to not have questions, if it's not invasive or rude for me to ask. You have an Emperor, right? Does that mean you have other nobles or aristocracy, too?"

"I think that's why we're so weird to them. We're so... active." she mused, and shrugged before returning to the task at hand. "Traditionally, when meeting with my people we used to limit the questioner to Three questions. It gave weight to each inquiry, and told more about the questioner than the answers gave." she smirked, "I'm terrible at reading people, so ask away. If something can't be answered I'll let you know."

"So, yes and no. We have an emperor, a long and proud line stretching back to the beginning. Emperors are chosen from family lines or some new potentials, I honestly don't know the process. Never bothered to get involved, and I vote for the parlamentary board when I can. We have an emperor, and a parlament board who handles the rest. The emperor isn't as vital as they used to be, but they're a big part of our heritage so we always have one. Nobility and aristrocrats aren't as plentiful now as they were. Replace them with politicians and, well, things havent changed much there. We're slowly joining the rest of the cosmos, but we're going at a comfortable pace. I guess that's the best way to describe it."

"I'm glad you didn't limit me to three questions. I don't think my first three were particularly insightful." The cadet was nearing clearing the Computer-identified panels on this side, but just to be sure started flipping open the rest of them, doing a quick visual inspection. Usually that was the way to catch things that the program didn't; it relied on its own detectors, which were often looking for something different. Never underestimate a gut reaction. "I definitely can identify with 'slowly joining the rest of the cosmos'... though I am of the impatient school. How comfortable the pace is usually is related to whether you're starting from the top or the bottom. Replicators are a great equalizer in a lot of ways, but somehow the Ardanan elite managed to hold on to some privileges even after they lost the civil war. I guess I will take politicians over aristocrats, though I understand the differences are not universal. I've got a good pile of scrap here," she called out as she stacked the pieces she'd gutted on a hovercart. "Need anything from the replicator while I'm there?"

Callisi pulled herself out from under the nose of the fighter, carrying a sensor assembly as she stood. "This one is shot, add it to the pile." she offered, walking over towards Pallas to join her on the trip, "I could use the walk." she offered, "And yes, I think a break is in order. Believe it or not, I've developed quite the appreciation for human coffee in my time here."

"As for the pace, oddly enough it' the Federation that really sets our pace. We're hesitant to join them fully because they're entirely too open with vital information and key locations. Where's Earth? Everyone knows. Where's Vulcan? Everyone knows." a pause as the pair made their way to the replicator. "We're not comfortable with that level of trust."

"That, and we're concerned that joining the Federation will obliterate our way of life. So many cultures together in one gestalt organization. So many laws that have to be added, adhered, and honored that may or may not conflict with our own way of handling things. Higher up the ladder, there are those deciding if we should join, or simply remain allies." she paused, "Me, I came here to find a place less stressful. Less demanding. Not that I'm afraid of hard work, but I prefer hard work without the stigma." she paused. "Thank you, for not making a deal out of it, which I fear I just did on my own."

"Coffee?" Pallas shuddered involuntarily, "no offense, but I hate the stuff. Everyone at the Academy was mainlining it all the time. Absolutely dreadful smell. I really don't understand it at all. Now tea, that's something humans have figured out how to do right." She took the sensor assembly from the captain and wedged it into the pile on the hovercart, and then got to pushing.

"Trust is earned, and the Federation isn't for everyone. If you have a good thing going, I can see why you would be hesitant to join. The Vulcans say 'infinite diversity in infinite combinations,' and I truly believe the Federation means it, but yeah, once humans get involved, you start doing things like... drinking coffee." She laughed. "And no thanks needed... honestly it took me a moment to figure out what you were talking about when you said 'stigma.' I realize that some people can be cruel, or hold prejudices, regardless of species."

A quick nod of thanks for taking the sensor assembly off her hands, and she followed in step. "You know the irony is, my people love tea. We consume so much of it that before we developed anything like replicators, the rumor was that there were entire MOONS devoted to growing tea. Then came the Insipp device, which could make something like tea. Then we met the Dalacari and we were gifted Fabricators and the rest, as they say, was history."

"I used to love tea. Then I moved out of the home sector and into Federation space. New location, new outlook, so new beverage. I hated coffee when I was first introduced to it. Hated it. They introduced me to flavors, I compared it to being punched in the face with a flavored fist. But the worst part is, the more of it I drank, the less I minded the bite. Now, it's tolerable to the point of preference. I hardly drink tea anymore."

"It reminds me of home." she said softly. "Apologies, I don't mean to sour the mood. Stigma." she paused, this was something she could easily drop, but talking about it seemed to help. "My people look very unfavorably upon things out of the norm. An injury that heals wrong. Damaged property that is repaired improperly."

"An eye." she looked away. "It's so silly, to hold so much over so little." and she turned to fully face Pallas, One natural eye, no shine, no sheen, but colored beyond concept. The other hidden, obscured, but there was something there. "I... I lost it during a mission. Handshakes, accolades, but before when someone looked me in the eyes I could see respect. Now when they did I saw pity. Shame. Disgust."

"That's why I transferred. It's also why I prefer coffee." she giggled dryly, in spite of the topic. "I'm certain someone already warned you. I appreciate your discretion. My counselor said talking about it might help."

"I'm sure you guessed who warned me, and like I said, no thanks are needed. This, this might sound strange because in a way I don't understand what you've been through at all, being from opposite sides of the galaxy, but in another way...." The cadets demeanor darkened. "There are a lot of people on Ardana who have very serious injuries, and I have seen the looks they get. Which is...." Pallas suddenly shoved the hovercart forward with frustration. It lurched forward, then its safeties kicked in and it slowed to a natural stop. The junk on top shook and some threatened to topple, but the cadet had fortunately packed it in tight enough that it survived her outburst. "No one asks for it. Why shame, or stigma? People act like it was a choice, like someone chose to be a Troglyte and give their arm blown off. Or... even after all that. Like, in my lifetime. My brother, one of them, Herak. He's several years older. When Lejico got hit by a big earthquake, a whole building fell on him. Somehow he survived, an absolute miracle. Took off one his legs entirely, half of the other. He has prosthetics now, newest in Federation design, you can't even tell. But for years he had these exposed metal ones. So now, his legs work the same as mine, but he still has the memories of how they looked at him. I still have some of those, too, not many but some." The cadet walks up and takes the hovercart back under control, pushing it the little bit further up to the replicator, and begins lugging off pieces and tossing them in. The replicator does its job and reclaims each component immediately.

Callisi listened to the plight of her brother. Possibly there to do the best he could, be it to help people or just stay safe. Fate was far crueler to him than any other. "It's a sorrow that society is so fixated on their image that they cannot tolerate any deviation. Please, if you think it wise, give your brother my regards, and my hopes for acceptance. "We fight so many battles, conquer so many obstacles, and yet the most damning enemy waiting for us is our own home. I empathize with him."

"And yes, I guessed. I just dislike assuming." she offered once the moment had lightened. "You shared your brother's story, I can at least share a little of mine. I was injured during a grey op. Dropping our troops deep behind enemy lines. My position was compromised and I started taking fire, the canopy took a shot and some of the larger shards came down right on my face. One, went through my eye. Half blind, in shock, I moved to a secure location and activated the on-board medic drone. It gave me two options: Replace the eye with a prosthetic and get back into the mission immediately, or patch it up and call for evac and risk the lives of the troops I was responsible for."

"I took the former. Society would look down upon me either way for such an injury, and a prosthetic that looked closer to my native eye was essentially out of the question, socially. I took the option that got me back into the mission. I'd make my recovery after the pickup."

Pallas's face softened. "I will share your regard with Herak. He will appreciate it, and hearing about you and your people. He's always had an interest in learning about other worlds, even though he's never left Ardana. I hope that he makes it off-world, one day soon. There's a whole big galaxy out here; it changes the perspectives that we hold with us inside. That's been the case for me, at least."

"To be a hero, and then suffer stigma for your heroism." The cadet shook her head. "I can't say I understand it, except as I said I have seen how irrational people can be when faced with reminders of their own fragility. Maybe, in a way, our societies are just as fragile in our minds as the Dalacari are; we just find different ways to express it."

The matter reclamation complete, Pallas activated the replicator to begin producing fresh replacement parts. They came out in clean padded boxes, easier to stack cleanly on the hovercart for the return trip to the fighter. "I've never seen war. I hope I never do. There's enough suffering we do daily without it. But if I ever am called to, I hope I am half as brave as you are." Your people were fighting a war. Are you still? You called them the Koldaran earlier, I think?"

"I never thought of myself as a hero, just doing my duty." Callisi offered, but took the notion with a nod. "I appreciate the thought though. I'm certain if it ever comes to it, you'll find the courage you need. Just take to heart it takes as much courage to run TOWARDS the danger as it does to be able to run FROM it. Survival is the most important thing anyone can strive for."

She was silent for a while, helping to stack the boxes on the hovercart. "Were, and still are. As long as I can remember, for two or three generations now, the Koldaran have been the enemy. Ask any son or daughter of Ts'usu and the answer is simple. Who are the Koldaran? They are the enemy."

There was something cold about the response. Simple and direct. They were the enemy.

"The Three Dawn Accord, signed by us and the Dalacari, cements our defensive alliance against the Koldaran. Wherever the Dalacari go, we go with them. They explore, we defend. That's the pact. When one of us finds evidence of Koldaran expansion, they notify the other and we head to repel." Callisi recounted. "Every son or daughter of Ts'usu is called to serve their Three. Mandatory military service, in defense of the people. To oppose the enemy."

"It must sound like a lot from the outside."

"Honestly, Captain, yes. It does. There is duty, I understand that. But my own bias is to wonder why something is the way it is. I do not deign to question the realities of Quadrant-scale conflicts without knowing much, much more. And even then, it is not my world or my civilization or my people at risk. But if there is multigenerational war, conflicts that last a century... that begins to feel more familiar to me. Things being a way because that is the way it has been. Those who are the enemy, or to be hated, because that's who they are. Which, as I said, it not my place to question, but as an outsider I wonder, maybe too simplistically, 'Why?' Why are the Koldaran your enemy, the enemy of the Dalacari, and why do you have to fight them?"

"That's a complicated answer." she started, "We oppose them where they travel, to stop them from conquering more worlds, to stop the spread of their empire. Every world they conquer they slowly convert to their environment, to give birth to the next generation of soldiers."

"They've never heard free speech, they've never read free press. They worship their admiralty and serve their captains like a religion. We oppose them because they would wipe us out if we didn't." Callisi explained. "There are other reasons, but the dangerously oversimplified answer is we war with them because they war with us. They see our freedom, our culture, as anathema."

"And they know where Dalacar is. Some say they may have figured out where Ts'usu is. So we fight them, at all turns, to save such a treasure."

"They sound like the Borg, at least in terms of the outcomes. Worse, actually; it doesn't sound like they are even interested in integrating or assimilating anyone else's cultures and identities, they just want to make everything monotonous. I think I understand. Some forces need to be resisted with opposing force, to save lives, save worlds. It makes sense, then, that the Federation has allied with the Dalacari and your people. I apologize if my questions came off like I was being judgmental, Captain." They finished loading the cart and Pallas pushed it back toward the fighter. "It does feel complicated. I'm sure I am well out of my depth in theorizing on the matter. Thank you for indulging my naivete."

"You're well in the clear." She clarified, even waving a hand to wave away the matter, "We learn though questioning, we cannot help but judge as we go. Now that you know some of the details you can make more informed opinions. Forgiven, forgotten." she absolved.

"You're very welcome. We learn though questions, through experience, though life." she followed along as the parts made their way back to the fighter in peril. "Nothing is ever as simple as we'd like. There's always complications."

"And having met the Borg, I can say that I feel uneasy around the Borg. They're little more than corpses, given life through artifice. Honestly, having watched some Terran cinema, they remind me of the Terran obsession of zombie movies." the rabbitess actually giggled, in spite of the serious nature of the topic.

“Can’t say I’ve seen many of those. Or that many of those Earth ‘movies’ in general. I think I pretty much went from books and skipped over to holodecks for my entertainment. But I’ve heard of them. And of ‘zombies.’ A strange thing, they really did approximate what the Borg actually were like, consuming and then turning those they caught into more zombies. Except of course, the Borg are deadly intelligent. From what my cinephile friend told me, zombies are supposed to be mindless, right?”

Callisi gave a nod, "Folks in the academy loved to show me movies, especially scary ones. They kept wanting me to scream and jump. Can't imagine why..." she said with a smirk. She knew. Everyone knew.

"But, zombies. So it all depends on the movie, because everyone's a director, but yes the average zombie movie has them shambling around mindlessly, driven by base needs." to illustrate this, Callisi did her best zombie impression. arms down, dragging one foot as though it were broken. She kept up the movement for a moment longer before resuming the walk as normal. "And while the Borg, as a whole, are frighteningly intelligent, A Borg drone isn't."

"So yeah, they hit the nail on the head about three hundred years early." a giggle. Once the pair arrived at the fighter Callisi found the box containing the replacement parts she needed and made her way back to the front. "So just books? Maybe you and I should have a movie night. Trust me, it'll be more then just seeing who jumps first."

Pallas didn't have studying as an excuse anymore, and she imagined that, at some point, enough of the fighters would be repaired that the captain wouldn't need her help fixing them up anymore. Their interaction so far had been fulfilling; perhaps it was just the Ts'usugi value on conversation, as Callisi had mentioned, but the cadet wondered if it was possible that the senior officer was enjoying the exchange of ideas as much as she was. Though prone to overthinking, the cadet managed to answer rather quickly to the invitation. "I would enjoy that, Captain. I will leave the movie selection in your capable hands, though, as the resident expert," she smiled.

"I'm hardly an expert, but I accept your compliment. And confidence." the rabbitess gave a nod. "When your duty roster is a little more stable, we'll discuss times and locations of convenience." A friend was something that Callisi would never have thought she'd find while tearing apart a busted Federation Fighter craft, but maybe this twisted wreck wasn't the only thing being repaired here.