—- Inside A Shipping Container, ? —-

Lieutenant Claudia Jara stretched and in doing so nudged the Lieutenant Commander at her feet. Gabriella Miller woke with a start and looked around at the inside of the container that was still lit up with only a hand torch. She had fashioned her blouse into a pillow and was wearing only a bra on top, but being woken up made her redress.

”What’s our status?” she asked, standing.

“Same, stuck in a box. The box isn’t moving who knows if we’re on a ship or not,” Jara said.

”We’re on a ship, if we were’t Starfleet would have been here by now,” Miller pointed out, “I am assuming the’ll be raiding the station if they haven’t already.”

”So what we’re just stuck?” Jara said.

”For now, yeah, unless you want to try to disintegrate yourself again,” Miller said. The blonde officer watched the brunette crewmate with a careful eye. While she tried to be optimistic about everything it was (perhaps as part of her job) in Jara’s nature to be pessimistic. Of course growing up on Turkana IV had likely given the security officer many reasons to want to project a worldly and rough image to the world.

”Great I’ll try to sleep on this metal floor some more,” Jara grumbled.

“Lieutenant why have you never hit on me?” Miller asked, “You hit on everyone else, the Captain, our Romulan doctor. Even Lieutenant Kolem and she’s the straightest woman I ever met.”

Jara was quiet then looked at Miller, “I don’t know. You seem so… well put together. Believe it or not I’m not perfect.”

”Oh I know,” Miller said, “But I’m more perfect than the Captain?”

”Well she’s a hot mess,” Jara said, then added, “Idiom, if you haven’t heard it.”

”I’m not a Vulcan meeting humans for the first time,” Miller said, “Look Jara, I’m not perfect.”

”It’s Claudia,” Jara said.

”That’s a nice name,” Miller said, “Call my Gabriella.”

Jara nodded, “I’m sorry if you think I didn’t hit on you because you weren’t good enough or something.”

”I assumed it was you found me boring,” Miller said.

”You are boring Gabriella,” Jara said, “You talk on and on about plants reproducing and…”

”I was hitting on you,” Miller said.

”What?”

”I was trying to flirt with you,” Miller said, “Talking about how plants are seeded, clearly it didn’t work.”

”No, it didn’t,” Jara laughed.

”I could explain the role of fertilizer in the process,” Miller said approaching Jara.

”I’ll try to pay attention,” Jara said approaching Miller.

Miller parted her lips and turned her head, “I’ll explain all about the birds and bees.”

”I’m all ears,” Jara said.

—- USS Seattle, Engineering —-

“Why don’t we get missions where we sit somewhere and host a conference of something?” Lieutenant Commander Young complained.

”Maybe because we’re a tiny scout ship,” his Assistant Chief Engineering Officer said. Ensign Constable knew that Young was just complaining to complain. They were well stocked and the engines were running like a dream. The Chief Engineer liked acting like it was all falling apart on him, perhaps driven by the mission with the Borg and how they’d actually broken down when they most needed their speed.

Young sighed, “A peace conference with the Klingons or something.”

”We’re only a few hours out, it’s fine,” Constable said looking at the readouts on the main screen in engineering. She set her hands on her hips and looked at the reading sternly as if she could scare them into behaving, and Young assumed she might actually be able to.

”Kolem and Sánchez are acting weird,” Constable said, “But then they’re together so…”

”They are, isn’t she dating Hume?” Young asked.

”No, that ended awhile ago, keep up,” Constable said.

”So wait isn’t Sánchez the Captain’s brother?” Young asked.

”Half-brother and yes,” Constable informed him, “Anyway they’re both acting quite weird since our stop at the station. But then young love.”

”You’re younger than both of them,” Young pointed out.

”But I’m not in love,” Constable said, “Except with economic justice.”

”Why do I have the only socialist engineer in the fleet?” Young asked.

”Because secretly you too love economic justice,” Constable said.

”No I think it’s because I’m cursed,” Young said, “Tell me if the readings get funky I’m going to bed.”