#Andorians and the sea

[indignantlemur]

I have somewhat more serious request for director's commentary. On Dagmar's drunken walk home through San Francisco, Shral and Thelen complain about the smell of the sea. Is the salty smell equivalent to inhaling chilli fumes or is that something related to evil spirits and bad omens?

It's actually more related to the latter, but the former is also a consideration! Salt registers as spice, the way capsacin does to Humans, and smelling it on the air in higher concentrations - such as at the seaside - would be a little uncomfortable. Certainly, it would clear the sinuses a treat.

More importantly, though, Andorians have a very antagonistic relationship with the sea on their homeworld and as a rule they regard it as generally unsafe to stray near - if only due to the wildlife. I think it's canon that they're also not big on swimming as well, but for the life of me I can't remember where I read that.

For my headcanon purposes, I think of it like this: imagine that you lived in an area that had a huge sea inlet that everyone and their grandmothers knew was a no-go zone. It's not safe, the ice is notoriously thin on it, and horrible monsters live in it. The monsters are not only huge and dangerous, but they're also alarmingly smart. They can - and will - hunt you, or stalk you until you're foolish enough to stray just close enough to snatch.

You don't play near the sea, you don't build near the sea, and you definitely don't go swimming in the sea. That's just basic safety. Your entire culture is filled with horror stories about what happens when those basic rules aren't followed. The sea is not your friend.

Now, imagine after a lifetime of having this very sensible information drilled into you by your parents, your teachers, and your peers, you visit an alien planet. The locals are nice enough, a little funny looking but not hideous or anything - and they also have very alarming marine life in their seas. However, unlike your much more sensible species these idiots go into the water anyway. They swarm to the beaches in droves in hot weather, they splash about in defiance of evolution and nature, and they even encourage their children to join them! Some of them even put on special diving gear and try to pet the creatures down there! One very enthusiastic tour guide has told you that you can even climb into a submersed metal cage and taunt large sea predators with your tasty, tasty flesh - on purpose.

Madness.

Worse, they've built the headquarters of for their pseudo-military space fleet and all of the alien embassies - including yours - right on the waterfront. Where the nightmare creatures live. Sure, the locals are quick to assure you that none of the really scary ones live near the surface, but you don't believe them. You've just discovered what an sea leopard is recently and you haven't quite psychologically recovered from that, and you know for a fact that those things come up to the surface.

So, yes. Andorians don't like the sea.

[arttsuka]

In the Star Trek mer AU, are the different alien races instead different types of merpeople based on varying sea creatures?

Yes, based on different species or just completely imaginary (aka based on vibes), although I do want to insert real animal characteristics if not to their appearance then to their habits or abilities(?).

[cosmicluci]

This Christmas Andorian is my first drawing for the Holiday Season in 2022! Andorians live in the cold and I wish I did too. And Christmas Andorian made sense to me.

[tinycoded360]

Future Ghost Chapter 9 and bonus chapter

The bonus chapter, A what if? Not tied to the main part of the story. Just a side plot bunny. What if Danny shrank while hiding from doctor mccoy. (If you're confused on context I suggest reading the main story hehe)

Danny ducked under a table in the mess hall, his heart pounding. He focused his energy and felt the tingling sensation wash over him as he turned invisible.

"Lieutenant McDonnell, Ensigns," a gruff voice greeted. Danny's stomach dropped. McCoy. "Any of you seen Ensign Fenton around? The computer says he's here, but I'll be damned if I can spot him."

Danny held his breath, willing himself to stay still and silent. He saw Kas's black Andorian eyes flick over to his hiding spot before darting back to McCoy. Her antennae twitched.

"Well?" McCoy pressed, folding his arms. "Out with it."

Kas shifted in her seat, her antennae twitching. "I..." She hesitated, her loyalty to Danny warring with her duty to her superior. "I think I saw him over there, sir." She pointed, her blue finger trembling slightly.

McCoy's eyebrow arched. "Under the table?"

Kas nodded, mouthing a silent apology in Danny's direction.

Danny's invisibility faltered as panic surged through him. He had to get out of here before-

"Fenton!" McCoy barked, striding over. His footsteps echoed like thunder. "I know you're under there. Come out this instant or so, help me. Your physical will be hell. That's an order, Ensign!"

Danny squeezed his eyes shut, trembling. Maybe if he just stayed quiet, McCoy would think Kas was mistaken and leave. He couldn't face the doctor, couldn't risk him discovering his secret.

Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through Danny's core, stealing his breath. He clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling a cry. It felt like his insides were twisting, rearranging. Pressure built in his skull until stars burst behind his eyelids.

What was happening to him? Was this some new development with his ghost powers? Danny fought to breathe through the agony, to stay quiet and hidden.

Then, between one blink and the next, the world shifted. The table loomed larger, his clothes billowing around him like a collapsing tent. Danny tumbled into folds of fabric as a wave of dizziness crashed over him.

Footsteps approached again, slower this time. Measured. The hairs on Danny's neck prickled with dread.

"Guess Fenton skedaddled," McCoy drawled, his voice a dangerous rumble. "Left quite a mess though. Mighty suspicious, abandoning his uniform like this."

Danny froze, heart rabbiting in his chest. He was hidden in the shirt, but for how long? If McCoy found him like this...

"Maybe we should leave it alone," Daryl interjected anxiously. "The kid'll come 'round when he's ready."

 Danny held his breath, not daring to move a muscle. The doctor had stopped right beside the pile of clothes, right beside Danny's pitiful hiding spot.

"Well now," McCoy murmured, so softly Danny almost didn't hear. "What do we have here?"

McCoy's eyes, sharp as a hawk's, caught the slightest of tremors beneath the abandoned shirt. His hand, steady from years of medical practice, reached down and scooped up the fabric, feeling the unexpected weight of a small, quivering mass inside. He set the uniform back down and peeled away the top shirt.

Mccoy let out a gasp as he peered within the folds of the garment. There, amidst the sea of cloth, lay Ensign Fenton—or rather, an astonishingly diminutive version of him—curled into a fetal position, his tiny chest heaving with rapid breaths.

McCoy's colossal face loomed above, eyes widening in shock as they fixed on Danny's quivering frame. "Sweet Jesus," he breathed.

Danny cowered, awash in primordial terror. It was like facing down a skyscraper with eyes ready to crush him underfoot. His throat closed up, heart stuttering.

"Is that... Ensign Fenton?" Daryl gasped, equally flabbergasted. "Doc, he's no bigger than my thumb!"

"I can see that," McCoy snapped. "Step back, Lieutenant," McCoy ordered without looking up, using his hand to gently usher Daryl away. "This is a medical emergency."

The giant reached for him again, and Danny scrambled back with a yelp, nearly tripping over the red fabric. But there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. McCoy's fingers closed around him with shocking gentleness, lifting Danny up until he dangled at eye level.

"P-please," Danny stammered, voice nearly inaudible to his own ears. "Don't- I can't-"

"Easy, kid," McCoy soothed. He shifted his grip, cupping Danny in his palms like he was made of glass. "I gotcha. You're safe now."

Safe? Danny almost laughed. Nothing about this was safe! He was completely helpless, dependent on the mercy of an irritable giant.

But as McCoy shifted the shirt to swaddle him like an infant, careful not to smother, a treacherous spark of comfort bloomed in Danny's chest. The steady thrum of McCoy's heartbeat pulsed through the thin cotton, and the doctor's firm hold promised protection, not harm.

"Don't you worry, Ensign," McCoy declared. "We'll get you sorted out." He tucked Danny against his chest, shielding him from prying eyes. "Should've come to me straight away 'stead of pulling a vanishing act. Lord knows what caused this, but I'll get to the bottom of it."  To any passerby, it would appear that McCoy was simply holding a balled-up uniform,

As McCoy strode away, muttering under his breath about transporter malfunctions and alien viruses, Danny finally let himself relax minutely into the unexpected sanctuary of the doctor's hands. The fear remained, pulsing beneath his skin with every rabbit-quick beat of his heart.

The swaying motion ceased abruptly, jolting Danny from his daze. The cloth covering him was pulled away.

Danny gasped as he was lowered onto the cold, hard surface. He stumbled back,

This was worse than any nightmare. Danny was no bigger than three inches tall, a tiny speck compared to the enormous doctor. Dr. McCoy's face loomed above him, impossibly vast and furrowed with concern. Danny froze, terror seizing his lungs in an icy vice.

Panic seized him, and he bolted without thinking, his tiny legs pumping furiously across the vast expanse of the table. He didn't get far before a gigantic hand suddenly blocked his path. Fingers the size of columns curled around him, scooping him up before he could react.

Danny thrashed, wild with fear. "Let me go!" he cried, voice shrill and pathetic to his own ears. "I can't-- I don't--"

"Easy there, kid," Dr. McCoy rumbled, his deep voice booming around Danny.

Danny's heart pounded against his ribs as the fingers curled around him, trapping him in an inescapable grip. He was brought up close to Dr. McCoy's face, the giant blue eyes boring into him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," the doctor continued in a softer tone. "Just try and stay calm. I need to make sure you're not injured."

Danny shrank back against the warm skin. It was hard not to panic while being held prisoner in a giant's hand.

Dr. McCoy sighed, his breath ruffling Danny's hair. "I know this is scary, but I promise I'll be careful." His voice dropped into the gentle, soothing tone he used with frightened children.

Despite his fear, Danny felt himself relaxing slightly, lulled by the doctor's calm demeanor.

Danny took a shuddering breath, trying to calm his racing heart. Dr. McCoy's hand shifted, his fingers curling to form a protective cradle around Danny's tiny body. The doctor's skin was warm, the steady beat of his pulse thrumming through his fingertips.

Danny pressed back into the doctor's palm and focused on what was around him. He could hear the doctor's strong heartbeat and slow, deep breathing. Gradually, Danny's own breathing synced, his panic subsiding.

"There you go," Dr. McCoy murmured. "Just try and relax. I've got you."

"Alright, let's get you more decent," Dr. McCoy grumbled. McCoy gently set Danny down and replicated a tiny medical gown for him to change into.

McCoy gently deposited Danny onto the biobed, the cushioned surface feeling more like a vast expanse beneath his diminutive form. The doctor loomed above him, tricorder in hand, scanning Danny with a concentrated furrow in his brow.

*This is so weird,* Danny thought, shifting uncomfortably under the intense scrutiny. *I feel like a bug under a microscope.*

"Hold still," McCoy instructed his voice a deep rumble from Danny's perspective. "I'm trying to get a clear reading on your vitals."

Danny obliged, his body tensing as he fought the urge to fidget. The whirring of the tricorder filled his ears, the sound amplified by his heightened senses.

After what felt like an eternity, McCoy pulled back, studying the readouts with a critical eye. "Your heart rate is elevated," he noted, concern lacing his tone. "And I'm detecting some unusual energy fluctuations around your chest area."

Danny's hand instinctively flew to his chest, his fingers brushing against the fabric of the tiny gown.

"It's... it's complicated," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not... I'm not exactly..."

McCoy's gaze snapped back to Danny, his eyes narrowed. "Not exactly what, Ensign?" he demanded, his tone brooking no argument.

Danny swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He'd kept this secret for so long, But now, faced with the piercing stare of his doctor, he found the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

"I'm not exactly human," he blurted, his voice cracking on the last word. "I'm... I'm half ghost."

McCoy blinked, his expression unreadable. "Half ghost," he repeated slowly as if testing the words on his tongue. "Care to explain what exactly that means, Ensign?"

Danny took a deep, steadying breath, gathering his courage. "I'm... I'm a halfa," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Half human, half ghost. It happened in an accident back home. I was... I was inside my parents' ghost portal when it turned on."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up, his expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "A ghost portal?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah. It infused my DNA with ectoplasm. But I'm still alive, still human in a lot of ways."

McCoy hummed thoughtfully, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of this new information. "By all medical standards, you're very much alive. Your heart beats, your lungs breathe, and your cells divide and regenerate.

Danny hunched his shoulders. "I'm still a freak, though."

"Listen, Danny," McCoy said, his tone firm but understanding. "In my line of work, 'freaky' is a relative term. We don't turn our backs on each other over... biological oddities."

"The Ghost Zone, where ghosts live... they're not traditional spirits," Danny continued. "More like energy beings from another dimension."

"Energy life forms, huh?" McCoy mulled over the information. "That's not unheard of. There's a whole universe of strange out there, kid. You're not alone in being different."

Danny tensed, his heart hammering in his chest. "So... so you don't think I'm a freak? Some kind of... of abomination?"

Danny gave a small yelp as the doctor scooped him up. "Absolutely not," McCoy said firmly. Mccoy raised the tiny ensign level with his eyes. “And I don’t want to hear you talking about yourself that way, ya?”

McCoy placed a fingertip under Danny's chin, tilting his head back to meet his tiny eyes. “Does being half-ghost give you any extra abilities?”

Danny pulled away from the giant finger, drawing his knees to his chest. His voice was tinged with embarrassment as he whispered, "I can do a bunch of things... like turning invisible."

"Is that so?" McCoy's eyes narrowed, a stern glance cast upon the diminutive figure. He exhaled sharply, the warm gust rippling across Danny's tiny form. "You little brat... I suppose that's how you've managed to dodge me?"

"Maybe," Danny muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"Can you demonstrate it now?" McCoy's tone was a mix of curiosity and irritation.

Swallowing hard, Danny focused on the ability that once came effortlessly. He closed his eyes, willing himself to vanish, but instead, his body flickered like a faulty light bulb. A sharp jolt of pain shot through him, causing him to gasp and wince.

"Hey, steady there." McCoy's large fingers provided a stabilizing presence. "That doesn't look normal. Where does it hurt?"

Danny feebly pushed at the finger supporting him, his breathing coming in short, rapid bursts. "That's not normal," he managed to say, his voice strained with pain. "The pain... it's coming from my core."

"Your core?" The doctor's voice was laced with concern and intrigue. "What exactly is this core of yours?"

"It's... well, it's like a ghost heart, sort of," Danny stammered, sensing McCoy's genuine interest but feeling vulnerable disclosing something so integral. "It's what makes me, me—like DNA, for ghosts."

McCoy's eyebrow arched skeptically as he peered down at the minuscule figure in his hand. "That's quite the vague description for something so vital," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through Danny's tiny frame.

"Because it's private," Danny snapped back, a defensive edge to his voice. "In my world, you don't just go around telling people about your core. It's... personal."

"Son, when you're sitting in the palm of a doctor, 'personal' becomes a matter of health." McCoy leaned closer, his gaze inspecting.

Danny squirmed uncomfortably, feeling vulnerable under the doctor's scrutinizing eyes. The warmth of McCoy's hand was a strange comfort, but the bigness of everything else made him feel exposed, like a specimen under a microscope.

"Look, I really shouldn't—" He started before a sudden shift in McCoy's grip interrupted him.

The large fingers curled gently, coaxing Danny into a seated position within the cavernous curve of the doctor's grasp. Lifted slightly, he found himself level with McCoy's piercing blue eyes. The doctor's face, usually stern or scowling, now held a softer expression, one that beckoned trust.

"Ensign Fenton," McCoy's voice rumbled, "do you want to be part of this crew?"

"Of course I do," Danny answered quickly, his voice barely more than a whisper. The earnestness in his eyes spoke volumes about his desire to belong.

"Then trust has to go both ways," McCoy continued his tone firm but not unkind. "I can't help you if you keep me in the dark. And believe me, kid, I want to help."

Danny took a deep breath. "Well, I'm not sure if you'll even be able to detect my core like this. In my human form, it's located right under my heart."

He shifted again, acutely aware of how vulnerable he was. "When I'm like this, my powers get kind of wonky. I'm not sure I can even go ghost right now. The last time I shrank, it really messed me up."

He tilted his head, scrutinizing Danny closely. "Well, for now, just try to stay calm. We'll run some tests and see if we can get you back to normal."

Danny nodded, though anxiety still twisted in his gut. He knew the tests were necessary, but the idea of being prodded and scanned in his weakened state did not thrill him.

McCoy's eyes narrowed as a thought occurred to him.

"Hold on now...you said, 'last time you shrank.' Are you telling me this has happened to you before?"

Danny winced. He had not meant to let that slip.

"Uh, yeah," he admitted. "A few times, actually."

McCoy looked incredulous. "A few times?!"

He dragged a hand down his face in exasperation. "Kid, you've got a lot more explaining to do. How the blazes does someone get shrunk 'a few times?'"

Danny squirmed under the doctor's intense stare. "Well, you see...”

[laundrybiscuits]

Eddie's mama always used to say that the night sky over Orion was the most beautiful sight in the Alpha Quadrant. She'd tuck him into her side at bedtime and tell him about the way the dim red lamps clustered in the markets never stopped you being able to see the bright stars and the swirling lights of the nearby nebula, so it was just a shimmering sea of red below and a shimmering sea of blue-purple-gold above, light and dark all mixed up together so you couldn’t tell the difference. 

Eddie's never laid eyes on it himself, but he always liked hearing her talk about it. He asked Wayne about it once or twice, when he was younger, but Wayne grew up like Eddie's old man: roaming around systems farther and farther from the Orion sector, following whatever work he could get. Eddie's old man was a sight less choosy about which jobs he'd take than Wayne was, which is why Eddie’s been living with Wayne for about as long as he can remember.

Starfleet offered to help Eddie relocate, after everything went down. They even offered to make sure he got to Orion okay, if he'd wanted it, to reconnect with his heritage or whatever.

He hadn't wanted it. But he also hadn't really wanted to stay where he’d been planetside, where his official job was helping Wayne out with the Starfleet Academy’s satellite campus canteen, and his unofficial job was procuring various not-Starfleet-approved odds and ends for cadets looking for something to help them weather the pressures of the Academy.

Commander Hopper, newly returned from the dead, had made it pretty damn clear that Eddie's sideline was no longer going to be an option, anyway. 

So he'd talked to Wayne, and he'd talked to Commander Hopper, and he'd even talked a little to Nancy Wheeler because she's smart as hell—everyone knows she's one of the top candidates for joining, and a symbiont is going to snatch her up any day now. 

After all that talking, he still doesn’t really know what to do, so Hopper sighs and tells him he doesn’t have to decide right away. 

“I just,” he says later, to Robin. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, but it’s not like I got any big plans somewhere else, either. Plus, everyone on the damn station still looks at me like I’m a murderer. Or at least Orion filth.”

Robin sort of gets it, a little bit, but she’s Starfleet. It’s different in uniform, even for half-Andorians who once crashed a runabout into the side of the base. 

“You could always apply to the Academy,” she says, but she’s got a grimace like she already knows that’s never gonna happen. Even if they’d take him, he’d have no chance of making it through the course, not when he’d squeaked through the standard Federation educational system by the skin of his teeth. He can’t really picture himself in the uniform anyway. Not his style at all. 

“Think those feral bat creatures gobbled up whatever mutant gland makes people want to join Starfleet,” he just says, pulling up his shirt and prodding at his wounds to make her laugh. 

Of course that’s when Steve Harrington walks in, when Eddie’s got his shirt hiked up around his armpits and all his shiny new scars are on full display.

The scars are still a lurid emerald going brownish-purple around the edges. When he’d first woken up in the medbay, he’d been told that they’d probably fade with time, but might never go away despite all the intensive dermal regeneration treatments he’s still going in for every week. He doesn’t mind so much, honestly; he’s never been too hung up on his looks. People who want to fuck an exotic, dangerous Orion aren’t exactly going to be put off by scars, so who knows? This might actually help him out a little in the dive bars he tends to haunt when he gets skin-hungry enough.

But it’s definitely not doing him any favors now, as Steve pauses in the doorway, looking kind of confused. Eddie quickly yanks his shirt back down, hiding a wince. Steve’s already seen him at his worst, Steve’s not a fucking option for a million reasons, so it’s not like it matters, but—anyway.

“Junior Lieutenant Harrington,” he says. “Heard about the promotion. Congrats.”

“Thanks,” says Steve. “I think it’s like, you get three or four concussions saving the station, and the system just puts the promotion through automatically.”

“I can’t wait to see what it takes for you to make Lieutenant, non-junior edition,” says Robin. “Do you think you���ll need to be in an actual coma?”

“Probably, at this rate,” Steve says, wandering over and leaning into her side companionably. “Don’t think anything’s really going to change aside from the pay, though.”

“Nah, just wait.” Eddie rocks back on his heels, grinning at Steve. “You’ll be battling evil wormhole monsters on perilous away missions and teaching alien babes how to love before you know it. The daring adventures of Spaceman Steve! Eat your heart out, James T. Kirk.”

“Henderson still thinks you’re gonna join up too,” says Steve.

“What, Starfleet? Where the hell’d he get that idea?”

“Ugh, we were just talking about that,” groans Robin. “Eddie’s still being stubborn about it.”

Eddie crosses his arms. “Wheeler’s on my side.”

“No shit, Eddie. You’re his…game lord, or whatever.” 

“What—no, dumbass, like I’d ever ask Cadet Wheeler for advice. Nancy goddamn Wheeler agrees I’d make a shit Starfleet officer, so there. Besides,” Eddie says, shifting a little uncomfortably. “I dunno if I could handle not living planetside. I know you guys have missions and stuff, but it’s not the same, is it? You live on a floating hunk of metal, like, ninety-nine percent of your life. Don’t know if that’s for me.”

“Didn’t figure you for the kind of guy who wanted to put down roots,” says Steve.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “It’s not about roots. Don’t you ever feel weird about not living somewhere…you know, real? Everything around you is made exactly for you.”

“And that’s…bad?” says Steve. His brow’s furrowed like he’s actually asking. 

“Not if you don’t think it is.” Eddie shrugs. “I just don’t think it works for me.”

“Okay, yeah, we get it,” says Robin. “You’re off to the next adventure, whatever that ends up being. Better cash in your chips soon, though; Hopper’s not gonna have that recently-reanimated pull forever.” 

Steve frowns thoughtfully. “What about running, like, a transport ship or whatever? Is that weird with the, uh, pirate thing?”

“Little bit,” says Eddie. “But that’s…not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” 

Actually, the more he thinks about it, the better it sounds. Some shiny little skiff, just big enough for him and some cargo, zipping around from planet to satellite to base, hanging out in random ports. It’ll be a little rough to go solo, and jobs might be a little scarcer than they’d be for a human or something, but then again, he’s used to that. 

No, it’s not the worst idea he’s ever heard.

[mytardisisparked]

📥🌝💻 for the ask game!!

LOL I JUST REALIZED I SAVED THIS TO MY DRAFTS INSTEAD OF POSITING IT, FORGIVE MY IDIOCY

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

I'd be interested in writing Monica Reyes, I just struggle a bit to pin down her voice, I think. Maybe someday soon!

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

hehehe I really like when people comment on And Still, The Sea is Salt and Ghost of You because they usually bring about strong reactions :)

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

I do if there's a specific detail I need to know. For example, I went down a huge rabbit hole the other days about the history of voicemail inbox technology for a fic lol. I also once tried to figure out how Andorian genetics work since they have 3 genetic contributors for offspring instead of just 2. And then I made a very cursed Punnett Triangle to test it out. That haunted me for, like, weeks. I still think about it. Usually in fics, genetics and animal biology are what I dive into.

[procrastinatorproject]

From the Star Trek ask game:

48. Name a song or music genre you think each of the la Sirena holo squad would like.

I don't really listen to a lot of music, so I can't talk too much about specific songs or 20th/21st century genres. Fortunately, this is Star Trek, so I get to be creative 😁😁😁

Emil: I mean, if you've read my fic, you know my Emil listens to all kinds of opera and likes to sing it, too! Doesn't have to be Klingon opera, either. He once spent a delightful afternooon being taught the finer points of Bynar coloratura by Xyr (the star tenor Rios hooked up with one time and whom Emil has a crush on admires).

When it's not opera, Emil probably listens to various forms of jazz, about which he has Very Strong Opinions. (Of course, he would never go so far as to, say, have a protracted argument with someone on Federation hypernet message boards about the merits of warp-shift-amplifiers on Tellarite slop jazz, but in his defense, cargo runs really do get very boring sometimes when you don't want to risk turning off and not being there when your captain gets himself shot again......)

Ian: He'd say Scottish folk music as a matter of pride, but he also unironically loves it! He has a vast repository of sheet music for historic tunes set for various instruments and always keeps an eye out for new talent from Scotland or Caldos Colony that might be worth keeping an eye on. He does play the bagpipes himself, too, though usually only when nobody from te non-holographic crew is on board. He has also been known to lead a rousing round of sea shanties every now and again.

Other than that, he also enjoys really experimental genres. There was an unfortunate incident a few months ago where Ian was listening to a new album from an underground spectral punk band while he did engine maintenance. He was sure he wouldn't be bothering anyone, because the music wasn't in the audible spectrum for humans and only Rios and Agnes were on board at the time. About twenty minutes into the record, he got a very salty message from Emil, asking him to please stop playing music that could cause crippling migraines and ruptured ear drums in his patients...

Enoch: Enoch is all for the Federation equivalent of top 40 radio. He sometimes sneaks onto the holodeck to watch concert-transmissions from the latest Andorian pop princess or Bajoran singer-songwriter. When he's sitting watch on the bridge on the rare occasions Rios is asleep (not that he needs to be there, the computer would activate him, if his services were required, but it feels right to physically keep an eye on things, you know?) he'll often tune in to the biggest music broadcasts to keep up with new music and concert dates.

Enoch also has a knack for finding the exact song, musician, or current trend that is most likely to piss off Rios and to then fall in love with it completely. He claims it's entirely coincidental, and Emil has seriously considered writing a psychology paper about this phenomenon and what it might say about the origins of musical taste and aversion. Emil and Agnes have spent many an hour sipping tea together, watching with rapt attention as Enoch and Rios yell at each other about the "Taylor Swift Revival"-Revival Band and what is or isn't sacrilege to force poor Sirena to play through her speakers. (The rumour that there was popcorn consumed with the tea is pure slander, though!)

Emmet: Emmet has the great advantage that he does not give a fuck what anyone thinks of him or his taste in music. He has had phases where he'd be listening to metal and grunge at top volume (usually only in his head, though occasionally he'd "accidentally" blast it over the ship's speakers). But he also enjoys all kinds of classical and historical music and has listened to every genre of punk known to the Federation's audio libraries.

Then there was a memorable week where he got so into Trill's childrens music that Steward had to ask Ian to block the sound files, because the inane ear worms were starting to infect the other EH's over their shared neural pathways, and Rios had threatened that the next holo humming the tune to "Where are you wriggling little worm?" would be scrubbed from the system.

But Emmet's secret joy, the music he doesn't really tell the others about or ever listens to where anyone can hear, are whale songs. He knows the songs of roughly two thousand different species, both from Earth Whales and other aquatic mammals that communicate in similar fashions. He even has a few very rare recordings of space whale calls, and nobody has dared to ask what he had to do to get his hands on those.

Steward: Steward, on the other hand, cares A Lot what people think about his musical tastes. He would like to be sohpisticated and classy, and enjoy opera and jazz as much as Emil and the captain, or have some deep cultural ties to a genre of music he enjoys, like Ian. But alas, he finds it heart to really get into any of that. He has found himself tapping his foot and nodding along to some of the catchcy stuff Enoch often puts on when Rios is asleep, but he knows that's not really dignified and worries he might seem uncultured if people know he enjoys top 40 radio. (Raffi has called him a snob on more than one occasion, and he knows he'll have to do some deep thinking to overcome some of the biases his creators endowed him with, because he has come to realize his interpretation of "hospitality" differs quite a bit from what they seem to have been envisioning.)

He would really like to learn to play the guitar. He can play a lot of different instruments and his singing voice is exquisitely trained, but the guitar is one of those blindspots he was left with, after Rios's deletions to the holos' memories. Steward knows that Rios can play incredibly well himself and keeps a real, hand-crafted guitar in secure storage for the extremely rare occasions Rios has been in the mood to play. The EHH has dropped a lot of less-than-sublte hints around Agnes recently and hopes she might be able to coax Rios into getting back to a hobby he once loved.

Steward himself dreams of a time when they'll all be sitting around a campfire on the holodeck, or maybe in the open cargo bay with sand from the beach they landed on blowing up the loading ramp, and him playing the guitar as they all sing campfire songs and make smores and stockbrot.

Until then, he is going to make sure Sirena's access to the various Federation audio libraries is always running smoothly, the holodeck is perfectly calibrated and stocked to cater to everyone's needs, and their various music collections are kept in whatever way is most fitting to the individual crew member, holographic or otherwise. Because he is in charge of the welfare of every soul La Sirena, and if that means occasionally reassuring Emmet (or Rios) that he definitely s the only one besides Steward who knows about the collection of whale songs and reassuring him nobody will ever find out he likes to fall asleep to them, or helping Emil or Enoch workshop another fan letter or scathing blog post, or running simulations on Ian's latest music genres to make sure they won't wilt the botniculas, then that's all the music he needs.

--

This was fun! I was gonna apologize for the length of this, but then I doubt you mind, do you? 😁

Thank you so much for the opportunity to write about my favourite gaggle of hyper-competent idiots and their various exploits! This was a great way to do some worldbuilding and micro-fic-writing even when full ficlets seem out of reach, and I'm realy grateful for the inspiration!

If anyone else wants to know more: Send Me Star Trek Asks 💗 (Or alternatively: send me holo-asks! I'm alsways delighted to write stuff like this!)

[hummingbird-of-light]

In Our Favor

Part 137

McCoy

“When those come out we’ll have tea and then ye lads relax for a while.”

McCoy glanced over at Scotty as Francine spoke. He could feel the tired drag from being up early and working in the garden. A yawn escaped before he could stop it. Scotty chuckled.

“A rest might be nice,” Scotty replied to his mother. “Can’t have his highness miss any beauty sleep.” He grinned at McCoy, who’s mouth dropped open in surprise at the tease.

“Monty!” Francine admonished.

“As if you won’t be right there next to me, snoring away yourself,” McCoy retorted with a laugh. “Don’t worry Francine, he thinks he’s funny.”

“Aye, I am,” Scotty said proudly.

“In your dreams,” McCoy scoffed with a roll of his eyes. He leaned in close and Scotty met him quickly for a kiss.

“You lads,” Francine said fondly. “I’ll clean up in here. No, no, I’ve got it,” she said as the boys began to protest. “Go on.”

“We can go read in the garden for a bit while it’s still warm,” Scotty said.

“Alright,” McCoy agreed. He followed Scotty from the kitchen and up to their room.

As McCoy dug in his bag for the latest book they were reading together, Scotty picked up his PADD and typed something quickly.

“Here we go,” McCoy said as he closed his bag again with the book in hand. He gave Scotty a questioning look.

“Just sending Aporal a message,” Scotty said, setting the device back down.

“Did he have plans for the long weekend?” McCoy asked as they left the room.

“I don’t think so,” Scotty said. “I hope he won’t just stay in his room and avoid everyone.”

“Send Keenser over to check on him. He won’t be put off by Aporal’s gruffness.”

“Maybe,” Scotty said. “Maybe next time we come home…”

McCoy looked over expectantly when Scotty didn’t complete his thought.

“Maybe what?” he asked.

Scotty sighed. “Maybe we could invite him here next time we come. If he didn’t have plans.”

“Oh.” McCoy thought about it. He wondered what Aporal’s family was like. How much family did the alien boy have? McCoy realized how very little he knew about the Andorian.

“He’d probably just turn us down,” Scotty continued.

“Probably,” McCoy agreed. “Though he may surprise us.”

Scotty read and McCoy drifted lazily on the edges of sleep with his head pillowed on his husband's lap. When Francine called them in, McCoy gave himself a good stretch and pulled Scotty tight for a kiss.

The kitchen smelled delicious as they came in. The pastries were just out from the oven and Francine was beginning to pour tea as they sat.

“Two sugars, right Leonard?”

“Yes, thank you,” he replied with a smile. “The scones smell delicious. My mouth is already watering.”

Francine turned a light pink.

“I thought tomorrow maybe we could go out to the beach. The weather is supposed to be even nicer and we could spend part of the day, maybe have a nice picnic lunch,” she said.

“That sounds great,” McCoy said and looked at Scotty.

“Aye Mum, let's do that,” Scotty said.

Part 138

Scotty

"Now that's more like chilly Scotland," Leonard said as they got out of the car and looked at the sea. The prince was shivering a little bit so Scotty quickly got their jackets out of the trunk and handed Leonard his.

"There ye go. This will keep ye warm enough."

"What? I thought you would do that!" Leonard asked, pretending to be shocked and Scotty chuckled.

"Well, if ye insist."

He grabbed Leonard by his arm and pulled him closer, causing Francine, who had gotten out of the car too by now, to laugh softly.

"Oh ye lads. How about ye go and open the door to the beach house already?" She handed Scotty the key and he nodded.

"Aye, we will."

Quickly the couple started to run towards the wee house and it didn't take them too long to reach it. Still, they were both panting heavily when they reached their destination.

"And? Ye warm enough now?" Scotty chuckled, out of breath and Leonard gave him a grin. There was a longing look inside his eyes.

"Maybe. But I'd sure feel even warmer if I felt your lips on mine." The prince wiggled his eyebrows, knowing they were out of Granddad and Francine's sight.

"Oh, really now?" Scotty smirked and leaned in closer. "Well then..."

The kiss that followed was a really passionate one and Scotty tried his best not to lose himself in it. They needed to get inside the house before his mother and grandfather arrived.

But it was so nice to kiss. At the beach. In the sun...

Luckily, the sound of his PADD recieving a message pulled Scotty back to reality and he pulled his head back to glance at the bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Oh, maybe that's Aporal." The Andorian hadn't answered the day before so Scotty had assumed that he was busy.

Leonard let out a sigh.

"And of course he's more important than your husband," he said, but Scotty could tell that he wasn't being too serious. The Scotsman smiled and placed one hand on Leonard's cheek.

"Oh, come on, mo ghràdh. Ye know that I only love ye."

But still he wanted to know if it really was Aporal who had written to him. So he quickly unlocked the door to the beach house and they got inside.

As fast as he could, Scotty got his PADD out of the bag and a smile crossed his face when he saw that the message was actually from Aporal.

"What does it say?" Leonard asked. He too was interested.

Scotty's eyes scanned the lines. He was quite surprised by the words he read.

"His parents are visiting him this weekend. He says that he'll tell me more once we're back at the academy."

It wasn't clear to read if that visit was a bad or a good thing, but Scotty really hoped for the latter one.

"Well, well. Who's ready for a wee picnic and some games?"

Scotty looked up from the PADD to see Francine and Alasdair standing in the doorway.

"Aye, let's go."

[undercityrezident]

This post got me thinking about a Pokemon Star Trek AU and I’m very much going off the deep end with it...

Ash Ketchum: They’re a brash, defiant back and forth Lieutenant/Ensign who will constantly disobey orders to do the right thing, even if it goes against “the big picture” greater good. He’s started at least one low-key interstellar conflict as a result. He could’ve probably made it as Lieutenant-Commander or even Commander by now, but their willingness to defy authority has cause them to be passed over for promotion many times. At the same time, their penchant for amazing tactics and way of somehow pulling their ship out of the figurative fire over and over against all odds has kept them from getting court-martialed. They’re “in-training” to be a tactical officer, but they could easily outdo most established tactical officers in the fleet.

Gary Oak: He ran a similar path as Ash, but had a way of being able to smooth things over with his superiors, allowing him to climb the ranks quickly. He was initially in the operations department, but transitioned to the science department, and then eventually off starship postings entirely to work at Starfleet’s Xenobiology Division on Earth (with occasional trips abroad), following the academic reputation of his grandfather. His official rank at the moment is Commander, but he holds his soon-to-be earned doctorate title in higher esteem.

Misty: She’s a marine biologist in the science division of Starfleet and joined to visit strange new oceans to catalogue as much alien sea life as she could. As a lieutenant with a promotion on the horizon for her, she’s fallen in with the same crew as Ash Ketchum, and her life has become a bit more exciting than she anticipated as a result. She regularly criticizes Ash for his poor decision-making, but is usually one of the first to come to his side to support him once he does make those poor decisions.

Brock: He delayed joining Starfleet for many years due to familial responsibilities. He’s a psuedo-expert in Lithoid species, having absorbed much of that information from his absentee-father when he was more present in Brock’s youth. However, once his father came back, Brock seized his chance to join Starfleet in order to pursue his true passion: interspecies medicine. Where better to learn it than on a Starship with those other species in front of him. Now, he’s a lieutenant and a doctor-in-training under the chief medical officer on the same ship as Ash and Misty. He’s also a proficient cook, and often offers to act outside his usual duties to serve in the kitchen from time to time, believing replicators lose some of the flavour that home-cooking gives to a meal.

May: Not at all interested in the actual mission of Starfleet at first, May joined out of a desire to leave Earth and travel around the galaxy to go sightseeing. She finally found a direction and passion to follow when she was exposed to an alien arts exhibition by fellow crew member, Dawn. From there, she developed a passion for studying the active art scene of various societies both within and outside the Federation. While keeping to her duties as an ensign, she’s taken it upon herself to try and create artistic works of her own, though she’s quite annoyed at being outdone at various art competitions by an Orion named Drew.

Dawn: Compared to May, Dawn knew she wanted to become an artist of renown, following in the footsteps of her Andorian mother. While she didn’t necessarily need to join Starfleet to accomplish this, she wanted to expose herself to more cultures in order to gain inspiration for her work. As a lieutenant, she works in the anthropology department of her starship (the same one as May), entering art contests along with her, though usually in different disciplines. However, much like May, she’s been finding herself consistently thwarted by a Bajoran rival named Zoey.

Iris: As a half-betazoid, Iris is an empath, though she has a strong disposition in this towards non-sentient species, and especially reptiles. As a result, she’s joined Starfleet as a Xeno-Herpetologist to study them abroad (or at the very least, creatures similar in nature to Earthen reptiles). She is always the first to volunteer to go on away missions, hating the stuffy, contained air of starships. Still, she sees it as a necessary evil to get to these new, wild worlds where she can interact with new beasts and understand their nature. Almost as wild the beasts themselves, she has some trouble keeping up with more mundane duties, leaving her at the rank of ensign at the moment. That said, she has found herself inclined to learn more exciting starship duties, such as the helmsman position, which she’s taken on occasionally due to the small crew complement of her vessel.

Cilan: Serving on the same small starship as Iris, Cilan has unofficially pulls double duty as the ship’s cook and his official role as botanist. His cooking and botany tend to go hand in hand, as he also runs the hydroponics bay as part of his duties, and is not afraid to try unique combinations of alien flora and more earthbound ingredients. He also fancies himself somewhat of a mystery-solver, leading to him trying to solve, or even blow out of proportion, the smallest of mysterious events on the ship. It often takes, Iris, an empath, to help dissuade him of any sort of conspiracy onboard. The fact he was right once has not helped to curb this tendency. Even with this shortcoming, his dedication and his (mostly) level-headed nature have helped him attain the rank of Lieutenant-Commander aboard his vessel. This recent promotion has been celebrated by all aboard the ship, save for one grouchy ensign named Burgundy, whom everyone jokes has some Tellarite blood in her, despite her human appearance.

Clemont: An engineering savant of sorts, the Half-Vulcan-Half-Human Lieutenant Clemont is being looked at for the role of chief engineer aboard his ship. When given sufficient time and the proper materials, Clemont can fix just about anything. However, being on a deep space exploration vessel that doesn’t get resupplied often, he usually has to improvise fixes quickly and with sub-par materials that, more often than not, end up failing in some spectacular fashion. This wreaks havoc with his self-confidence, though the crew understands the constraints he’s been put under, and the ship’s counsellor, Serena, has helped him through numerous doubt-fueled crises. He exercises Vulcan logic in his work, but lacks the Vulcan sense of emotional suppression, having been raised on Earth. Even with a promotion in his future, he still has his passionate heart set on his application to the Daystrom Institute back on Earth, the reason he joined Starfleet in the first place. It’s his dream to contribute to further developments in AI technology, including the efforts to try and replicate Dr. Soong’s work that created the android known as Data. He regularly writes his little sister, Bonnie, who still lives at home on Earth.

Serena: As ship’s counsellor, Serena serves aboard the same, long-term exploratory vessel as Clemont. Her nurturing nature has been invaluable for those missing home on that ship, including Clemont who has told her much about his little sister Bonnie. Serena, now a lieutenant herself after years of service, joined Starfleet indecisively and more out of an impulse to avoid entering the same line of work as her mother. She’s hoping to find her purpose out in the stars, but is taking satisfaction in helping others as best she can for the moment. She sometimes has to work hard to conceal her envy for those among her crew who have found their direction. As stress relief for this, she often bakes sweets weekly that she distributes in her ship’s mess hall. It’s come to be one of the crew’s favourite days of the week.

Kiawe: An Unjoined Trill, Kiawe enlisted in Starfleet to further his credentials to be joined with a Symbiont. His grandfather was joined, and Kiawe still looks up to him, even after his passing. Kiawe is determined to do anything he can to have the same chance his grandfather did, knowing how it enriched his life. In Starfleet, Kiawe found a natural fit as a security officer, and is quickly rising up the ranks toward head of security, now bearing the rank of lieutenant. He could’ve risen even faster, but his overly-heated nature has been questioned by some above him. Taking even his spare time seriously, Kiawe prefers to spend time in either the ship’s gymnasium or the holodeck honing his martial arts skills and, much more secretly, his dancing hobby.

Mallow: The head chef on the bustling ship that also includes Lana and Kiawe, Mallow finds the best way to keep the crew from getting bored on long voyages is a variety in cuisine. She grew up working with her Orion father in his restaurant on Earth and she’s hoping to eventually open one of her own back on Earth. However, she feels she needs to put herself through her paces in a tough environment as the one in charge of a kitchen, and she could think of no better place than a packed starship. She holds the rank of ensign, but you’ll usually only find her in the kitchen for her duties. However, she tends to frequent the holodeck for fun and relaxation with Lana, often towing Kiawe and along to try and get him to loosen up.

Lana: A student of xeno-ocean ecology, Lana joined starfleet for much the same reasons as Misty did, and was even a friend of hers in the academy before they were posted to different starships. They regularly keep in contact and get advice from each other on papers they write for their related disciplines. While generally dutiful in her work as an ensign with a prospective promotion in her future, Lana’s quite the jokester and prankster in her off-time, with her target usually being the very-easy-to-rile-up Kiawe. She, along with Kiawe and Mallow, often spend their off-hours together on either the holodeck or, at Kiawe’s insistence, the gym to practice their fighting forms. However, Lana’s favourite diversion is usually the holodeck to simulate an ocean to swim in.

Goh: He joined starfleet as an extension of his study program from an Earth university. He studies rare and endangered species and their migration patterns, hoping to learn more about them and to help restore their numbers as best he can. Given the temporary rank of crewman during his study period, he’s had numerous postings that have taken him from starship to starship, working with many of the above familiar faces as he’s pursued leads on various worlds. The most intriguing case has been working on lately involves a spacefaring lifeform that’s only been sighted a handful of times in the last two centuries of Starfleet records. He’s eager to learn more about it and determine if there’s a greater population somewhere in the stars, or if those sighted were truly the only of their kind in the galaxy.

There’s plenty of other characters that I think could join Starfleet, but I think this is a good start for the core Pokeani cast. Feel free to add onto this list if you want!

[hasufin]

I'd like to put forth that the Tellarites are (inadvertently) responsible for the decline of the Federation. It wasn't intentional.

See, first - yes, they "like" to argue. But you'll never see a Tellarite actually getting violent. They're argumentative the way a Jewish family is argumentative. It's not that they can't cooperate, it's just that outside of their cultural context you'd assume they're always on the verge of a fistfight. It's how they socialize. NEVER deal with a Tellarite who doesn't want to argue - they're like 20 seconds from setting off a bomb.

The problem is, they were neighbors to the Andorians (shouty hotheads) and the Vulcans (quiet hotheads). Vulcans and Andorians are prone to fighting. Tellarites are just "Why the hell are we fighting? There are all these other planets to go to. And Tellarites like traveling long distances (the Human romanticism for long train rides and sea voyages is, in their opinion, the absolute best thing about Human culture. Well, second best...)

The best thing about Humans, in their opinion, is they got the shouty hotheads and the quiet hotheads to stop fighting. To Tellarite perspective, that's absolutely awesome. That meant the Tellarites could stop worrying about a war breaking out and could just go back to sending out sleeper ships and stuff. Which is what they did.

Buuuuutt.... that meant of the four founding members of the Federation, you had:

Humans: 100% onboard with this Federation thing, keeps them occupied and not doing xenophobic fascist empire bullshit.

Vulcans: Like the Federation thing, but kinda doing a major cultural rejiggering and not trusting of the Andorians. gonna maintain their own fleet.

Andorians: Likes the Humans, but doesn't trust the Vulcans, gonna maintain their own fleet.

Tellarites: Really just wanted to go back to their own thing, very happy to do so, confused when everyone else gets mean when you talk to them like you would a friend.

So, the Tellarites kinda established the precedent that Federation members don't have to contribute a lot to defense or anything. Which meant that Starfleet ended up being pretty much Humans. And that worked for a while, but Earth is still only one planet and after a few centuries Starfleet was stretched pretty thin.

And the funny thing is, the Tellarites are all onboard with exploration and research and colonization, but most other member races just never grokked that the apparent argumentative nature is simply how they handle things and they're really the most pacifistic of the original races. If at the outset Humans had better understood Tellarites, Starfleet would have been more inclusive and later members would have felt less ignored.

It bugs me that there's basically no lore for the Tellarites other than "pig guys who like to argue". They've been around since the 60s and there's no lore. They were a founding member of the Federation and there's no lore. There's a Tellarite main character on "Prodigy" and so far the only new lore we've gotten out if it is (1) at some point in the pre-Federation past, they rounded up their orphans and sent them out into deep space on colony ships, and (2) they're born in litters and the runts get called "Pog"

[indignantlemur]

Great to hear you are recovering well! Are there any bits of Andorian lore that you haven't been asked about but want to talk about? I love reading your posts about the characters and setting of Emigre and headcanons about Andorians.

Hello, jueru! Lovely to hear from you!

Oooh, that's a tough question - not because I don't know what to say, but because I just have to many bits of lore scattered about in my brain!

I think, this time, I'd like to talk about how Andorian conservation work!

Andoria is a brutal planet, equal parts deadly and delicate. The animal life on the planet is diverse and heavily adapted to survive in evolutionary niches. Not unlike most environments, really! The thing about Andoria, however, is that the planet is so inherently hostile that even the smallest changes can wipe out entire species who might otherwise thrive.

Moreover, Andoria's ecosystems are very delicately balanced, and if even one population rises too high or dips too low, it can damage the entire system profoundly. As such, Andorians are extremely careful with their conservation efforts.

Remarkably, and this might surprise a few people, Anlenthoris th'Kor is a leader in environmental protections around Laibok, and widely held up as an example for others.

You see, nothing can destroy an ecosystem like a veeg infestation. They are voracious predators, and not remotely picky about what they eat. Additionally, they are very fast, very strong, and alarmingly cunning hunters. They lay eggs by the thousands anywhere from three to five times a year, and while only a small percentage of those eggs will survive long enough to hatch (and an even smaller percentage of those juveniles will make it to adulthood) the laying mothers are ravenous and indiscriminate. A veeg infestation very quickly gets out of hand, and they have a fondness for laying their eggs on the wide tracts of ancestral holdings surrounding Laibok in particular.

(They don't, it just feels that way to the folks living in and around Laibok who have to deal with the veeg.)

When folks like Thoris go out and hunt veeg on a seasonal basis, they're not just trophy hunting. It's as much for the safety and security of the area as it is to preserve the ecosystem. Veeg can and will eat children along with everything else they come across, and there are few things Andorians love more than their kids.

But the veeg are only a problem when their populations get out of hand! They are, to everyone's chagrin, actually an important part of the ecosystem and eradicating them entirely can have devastating effects - much like how wolves are vital to a number of Terran ecosystems. There are plenty of other creatures whose numbers need to be carefully monitored, and there are dozens and dozens of breeding programs for endangered species as well.

It's sometimes difficult for other species to think of Andorians as being great wardens of natural resources, but they are. Andoria contains a wealth of life, from the smallest ice-borers to the greatest of herd animals and the darkest-dwelling of sea creatures - and each and every one of them rests on a knife's edge between thriving and extinction.

As such, Andorians are often some of the first to throw their support behind inventions or proposals that aid in the protection and conversation of the natural world.

[papasmistakeria]

Currently writing my first ENT fic and it's an AU where everything is the same except Malcolm Reed is an andorian

Why? Self-indulgence ✌

[the0verboss]

Please. I need. It’s cold here.

[more-better-words]

#tell me more about Andorian pirates

I feel like Andorians invented piracy about five minutes after they perfected sea travel. 😆

A beach day for Karveth and Monica! (with a hat tip to @indignantlemur re: Andorians and UV😉)

They had gone to Earth to introduce Karveth to her parents, and it had, Monica thought, gone remarkably well. Maybe Mark and Joanna McKee were simply too overwhelmed by the reality of the Andorian they’d heard about to do anything other than default to well-mannered hospitality. And the Starfleet uniform had helped a lot, if she were to guess. Karveth himself had gone a long way towards insuring a pleasant visit, having been so charming, polite, and deferential that his subordinates at the shipyard probably would have been struck dumb with disbelief.

She said something to that effect as they entered their hotel room, and he shrugged, smiling slightly. “One must adjust one's demeanor to achieve the desired reception. I wouldn’t want my r'eyslen’s parents to think poorly of me.”

“They’re not allowed to,” she said firmly, and his smile grew as he pulled her into a hug.

“While I don't doubt you would bludgeon a positive reaction out of them by sheer force of will, sh'tal, I would rather win it on my own merits.”

She smiled back, reaching up to stroke his left antenna. “Which is fair. And you did, so…” She kissed his cheek. “I’m glad we have today and tomorrow to ourselves, though.”

Monica loved Mars. It was her birthplace and her home and she was proud of that. But she would readily admit that there were certain experiences you just couldn’t get on the Red Planet – like, for example, going to the beach.

“Do Andorians sunburn?” she'd asked him as they were planning the trip to Earth.

“If you mean is our skin damaged by solar radiation, yes.”

“Oh. Well, I guess a beach day is out…”

“And much like you humans, we’ve developed ways to prevent and mitigate that damage,” he had said, amusement moving his antennae. And then she felt sheepish.

So they planned for an afternoon at the beach the day after the visit with her parents. When they arrived, they paused at a picnic table to handle the business of sun protection. Monica stripped off her swim coverup, enjoying the unabashed ogling she received in the process. When she'd modeled her blue and white striped bikini for him, with its halter-style top and shortie bottoms, before they left Mars, he had wasted no time in expressing his appreciation for it by removing it from her person. “Can you behave yourself?” she teased.

“I am perfectly capable of restraint in public,” he said, retrieving her sunscreen lotion from the beach bag. “I will, however be thinking very indecent thoughts.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t stop you from doing that,” she said with false resignation. They smiled at one another, and he squirted a generous portion of sunscreen into his hands. Over her arms, across her shoulders, down her back and each leg, his hands ran over her skin in slow, thorough motions. Then the detail work – the back of her neck, the curves of her ears, just under the edges of her swimsuit – his fingertips gentle. Even in the warmth of the day, she shivered.

“There,” he said, kissing her hair. “Now my pinkskin won't be getting any pinker.”

“And now it's your turn.”

He peeled off his tee shirt, which was a show she never got tired of watching, and then shed his loose pants, revealing swim trunks short enough and tight enough to insure he wasn’t the only one thinking indecent thoughts. She shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?” she asked. He smiled, looking pleased.

“Would you like a list?”

His Andorian sun protectant came in a sort of foil pouch, and when she poured some into her hand, she discovered it was a thick, translucent oil that had an almost mossy scent to it. She rubbed her hands together before sliding them over his shoulders and down his chest. “This could take me a while,” she said, her palms moving in broad circles over his pecs. “I don’t want to miss any spots.”

“We wouldn’t want that,” he said, watching her intently. Their eyes held for a moment, and Monica couldn’t help but dab a bit on the tip of his nose, letting her smile widen. She just had so much fun with him, even something this simple.

She re-oiled her hands, moving to his back; the oil sank into his skin, giving it a luster that she was honestly a bit envious of. After his own meticulousness, she could hardly skimp on her efforts. She carefully and precisely rubbed down his arms, and his legs, and all around his face and neck, with extra careful attention paid to the delicate skin of his antennae, a process that made his eyes close with a deep, blissful sigh. Finally ready for Sol’s worst, they waded out into the surf, hand in hand.

“The first time I ever saw the ocean,” Monica said as they walked along, the waves lapping at their ankles, “was the first time I was ever on Earth. I was probably only...five at the oldest, and we’d come to visit my grandparents. I remember standing on the beach, seeing all that WATER, and just bursting into tears.” Karveth smiled faintly.

“A little overwhelming for the Martian child?”

“Completely overwhelming. But I’m glad my parents tried again. We came back when I was older, and...it took a few tries, but I learned to appreciate it.” She sighed, gazing out at the water. “Mars had oceans, millions of years ago.”

“And perhaps it will again,” he said. “With time, and the completion of the terraforming.”

“Maybe,” she said, smiling at the thought. “That’d be something.”

“I’m looking forward to showing you Andoria’s oceans.” He chuckled softly. “Though the clothing requirements are rather different.”

“What, no bikinis on Andoria?”

“I understand you humans get something called frostbite?”

“Yikes.” She shuddered. “No thank you!”

He chuckled again, and gave her hand a squeeze. “I would never let that happen to you.” She wrapped her free arm around his waist, and they walked a little while longer in silence before he said, “My ancestors were sailors. The very first icecutters were built on the shores of Ulata Province. We respected the waves, and learned to ride them.”

“So maybe it’s in your blood?”

“Perhaps some old genetic memory, yes.”

“And maybe that’s why you build starships now?”

He thought about that, and nodded, slowly. “Casting off into another sea. You may be onto something there.”

They resumed walking, and then she asked, “Did Andoria have sea pirates? I bet you’d make a sexy pirate.”

He gave her a meaningful sidelong look, than laughed. “Perhaps I would, but I think of the two of us, you would be the more successful pirate.”

“Me?”

“Under that charming smile and kindly demeanor is a true blade, sh'tal. You would destroy your enemies and they would thank you for it.”

She wanted to be shocked at the thought, but a pleased blush betrayed her. “You think?”

“I know you can certainly pillage me whenever you like.”

That was definitely an enjoyable thought. “Oh, I’ll boardyou any time, mister.”

Their eyes locked, slow grins spreading on both their faces, but he promised public restraint and she wasn’t about to let him show her up on that front. She cleared her throat primly.

“So… Andorian piracy?”

“Would you like to hear about the First, Second, or Third Great Pirate Wars?”

Her eyes widened. “Um...all of them?”

“Well, it’s been a while since school, so I’m probably going to mix up a lot of the details, but if I remember correctly, the First Great Pirate War began when Kev’teth the Blackhanded challenged the leadership of Clan Harva’theli for control of the Kisset island chain-”

“The Blackhanded?”

“He’d lost his right hand in battle and had it replaced with a solid black prosthesis.”

“Ooo, very piratical.”

“He said because his fleet had anchorage on the largest island of the chain that they had a claim by right of possession, but of course as far as polite society was concerned, they were all clanless scum…”

“Well, you're gonna get that with pirates.”

“So he responded by sacking the port of Vethaya, starting a war that lasted eleven years and cost 300,000 lives. Roughly.”

Monica stared at him, agog. “And that just the first one?” He nodded. “Well, go on!”

[foone]

Unbreathing Vacuum

I got an ADHD inspiration to write a short DS9 fic off a shitpost about Star Trek-but-all-the-computers-run-windows-98, so I wrote a thing about Odo and the crew's reaction to his seeming death. (This was written for twitter, so it's gonna have some weird paragraph breaks, sorry about that)

Odo is tracking down a Bolian weapons dealer with as many morals as hair follicles when he finally corners him in a cargo bay. It goes south, quickly, as it turns out weapons dealers have access to a lot of weapons.

His Bajoran security officer is laying down suppressing fire as Odo sneaks around behind the Bolian who is trying out a wide variety of strange weapons, colored beams shooting across the room like we're in a deadly disco of death.

Odo reforms into a grumpy humanoid behind the blue man group reject, shedding his Andorian Ice Fox form that let him cross the sea of crates without detection. Odo grumbles "I think that's enough, don't you?" as the Bolian turns and screams.

The football shaped object in his hands that was beeping increasingly frantic pitches drops to the floor, and he dives for it. Odo looks down in surprise, then recognizes what it is, but it's slightly too late, as timers on Klingon grenades are not known for their accuracy.

There's a flash of light and pressure as it detonates, and the cargo bay wall cracks, and the one sound no one wants to hear in a space station begins: the high pitched hissing of air rapidly leaving.

Odo gets to his feet in that uncanny way he sometimes does when he forgets to move like a being who has bones. He simply transitions from a body on the floor to a standing vaguely humanoid form. The Bolian, being closer to the blast, appears dead, or at least soon to be so.

He turns to his security officer to tell her to go call Chief O'Brien, when the hissing wall suddenly groans with the sound of bending metal, and the wall gives way completely. An entire semi-rectangular wall panel is ejected into the black, taking Odo and the dead Bolian with it

The security officer, nearer to the door, slams the access panel and dives through the door before it can finish opening, and rips off a barely attached wall panel to yank on the manual bulkhead release.

The door slams shut with typical Cardassian efficiency, not caring or bothering to check if there might be a limb or two in the way. The hurricane wind of all the station's air trying to escape is suddenly ended, and deafening white noise gives way to the low hum of the station.

Moments later, the crew up in Ops are reacting to the news of Odo's death in almost comically predictable ways.

Kira, the career soldier, is angry. She's seen many friends die in front of her, and she never let herself become numb to it. She's swearing at Odo in ways that the universal translator is so good at eliding, saying she always told him he was taking too many risks.

Just because he won't mind when someone stabs him doesn't mean he's invulnerable, she told him, and he, as always, almost-smiled in the way he only seems to do around her and grumbled about how he'd be careful.

The young doctor is barely holding it together. Kira's lashing out but it's a controlled sort of anger, a way she keeps a handle on the pain of losing people. Bashir, the eternal optimist to Odo's eternal pessimist, doesn't really believe in death, a strange trait for a doctor.

O'Brien is focusing himself on technical issues to avoid having to think about the emotional ones. What kind of weapon could have taken out a reinforced cargo bay wall? Had it been damaged before and incorrect repaired? He makes a note to do a full check of structural integrity

Dax has seemingly no reaction, but that's almost to be expected. You have a different outlook on death when you've died before, multiple times. As a near-immortal you see many people and make many friends, and nearly all of them will die long before you.

You have to learn to accept it, or it will kill you by inches. One of the downsides of seemingly endless life is there's a lot of time to mourn.

The commander is definitely feeling the impact of the loss, especially having had far too much experience with this particular kind of loss before. He flashes back to that time he always, in some way, still resides in...

When an alien force shows up and starts carving your ship into digestible chunks, you quickly become intimately familiar with the effects of sudden decompression on the humanoid body. It's not pretty, it's not as fast as you'd hope, and it's something you never forget.

He maintains his composure, leaning on his command training, and asks Kira to make a list of security officers she'd suggest promoting to Chief of Security. He thinks for a moment, realizes Odo had no family, and says he'll send a note to Dr. Pol

He turns back to go into his office when there's a dull thudding noise, and a sort of faint tink-tink-tink caused by the flexing of glass that happens with even the thickest of reinforced viewport.

He looks around in confusion, and Dax suddenly points at one of the high-up viewports. Floating outside the window, looking only slightly more annoyed than his resting "I hate life" face, is Odo.

It feels like something outside of a horror movie, a ghost floating silently outside a second story window, because humanoids don't just happily move around in the harsh void of space without needing a suit or a forcefield to keep them breathing.

But Odo isn't like most humanoids, after all. He's not a humanoid, for one. He's more a confounding self-propelled pile of goo that sometimes feels like pretending to be a humanoid shape.

This is made more obvious by the fact that he's only half there. His lower half is not legs, but a shimmering stretch of undifferentiated shapeshifter material, in order to hold onto an access handle tightly enough to give him the leverage to knock on a window.

Seeing he's got the attention of the crew, he pulls his hands from the window and starts attempting to sign to them. Kira's the only one with any experience in Bajoran sign language, and the best she can make out is something like "he broke his... Weasel? Columns him... Boat?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes, like only a shapeshifter really can. The sigh is silent of course, but if anyone could grumble in disappointment in the vacuum of space, it would be Odo.

His hands blur together as he shapeshifts them into a new form: a small flat panel, with Bajoran lettering in a large block font, perhaps a little too blocky as his aggravation is coming across even in typographical form.

COMBADGE DAMAGED BEAM ME ABOARD

Dax and O'Brien quickly confer, taking a painfully long moment to figure out how to lock onto something that is neither wearing a working combadge or reads as a life sign. Finally they figure out how to get a lock, and engage the transporter.

The grumpy-looking chief of security rematerializes on the Ops transporter pad, adjusting his "uniform" in an entirely unnecessarily maneuver he long ago picked up in his study of humanoids. He's naked, after all, he just looks like he's wearing clothes.

"Thank you for bringing me in", he grumbles, not saying the "finally" everyone can clearly hear in his tone. "It turns out that you can't open airlocks from the outside, so I wasn't able to come in the obvious way."

O'Brien, still slightly surprised by the sudden reappearance of his "dead" coworker, falls back on technical details as always. "That's a safety system we installed. The airlocks won't open unless they detect a ship is docked."

Kira chimes in with "Yeah, the Cardassians didn't have that restriction, as they wanted the freedom to just toss Bajorans out the airlocks when they felt like it." Odo responds with his usual grunt, a dismissive "pah, you solids and your weaknesses and your squabbles" noise.

Sisko replies "Regardless, it's good to see you alive and well, Odo."

Odo half-nods. "Commander, if you'll excuse me, I have reports to file and a safety lockout to implement. As tempting a prospect as it might seem, I wouldn't want Quark to end up to be sucked out the station's new orifice when he comes looking for his shipment of Yarmok sauce."

O'Brien jumps in with his typical urgency, half-covering up the feeling of "I should have fixed that already, damn" that he's seemingly always feeling around here. "I'll send a repair team down there right away."

Odo doesn't turn as he walks to the lift. "That would be appreciated, Chief. I'd rather not have to walk along the outside of the station again today." he says, punctuating it by activating the lift and descending out of view.

Sisko rubs his forehead. This is a strange place indeed, and despite all the headaches it gives him on a daily basis, he's beginning to feel almost at home in this remote alien place.

This place is strange, the people are strange, the situation is strange... But they're his strange.

Maybe someday they'll stop surprising him. But he doubts it, and he isn't sure he would want them to.

He sits down at his desk and pulls up another of the day's reports, thankful he doesn't need to write that letter to Doctor Mora Pol, for more than one reason.

It's never easy losing someone under your command, and writing that letter to their next-of-kin never gets easier either. But it's a good day when you don't have to do either.

[aion-rsa]

Star Trek: Lower Decks Season 2 Episode 1 Easter Eggs & References

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This Star Trek: Lower Decks article contains spoilers for Season 2, Episode 1: “Strange Energies.”

The mission of the USS Cerritos is to do the jobs other Starfleet ships can’t; following up with all sorts of minutiae and boring outer space logistics, long after the Enterprise or the Defiant has warped out. But whether it’s Lower Decks or Picard or Discovery or Strange New Worlds, the mission of hardcore Trek fans is the same: Pause the screen and see what deep-cut Easter eggs got slipped in this time!

In Season 1, Star Trek: Lower Decks earned the reputation for the most meta-textual Star Trek ever. There are layers and layers of Trekdom within every frame of this series, making it hard to look at one episode and catalog all the references. But if you thought Season 1 went deep into the wells of Trekkie references and Easter eggs, Season 2 is here to make Season 1 look tame. The Season 2 premiere of Lower Decks — “Strange Energies” — is one giant Easter egg with a bunch of reproducing tribble-ish Easter eggs inside of it. Unless you’ve got ESP powers on the level of Dr. Elizabeth Dehner, there’s no way you caught all of these. 

Cardassian ships

The episode has a cold-open on some kind of prison inside of an asteroid field. This is surrounded by two kinds of Cardassian ships, the Galor-class and the smaller Hideki-class scout ships.

“The Keep Showing Me Lights”

Hologram Boimler says the Cardassians “keep showing me lights.” This line, and the existence of the secret Cardassian facility references the famous Next Generation two-parter, “Chain of Command,” in which Picard was kidnapped and tortured by the Cardassians. If you somehow haven’t seen that episode, the whole idea is that the Cardassians try to gaslight Picard into thinking there are five lights in front of him when there are only four. Lower Decks referenced “Chain of Command” in Season 1, too! In Season 1, Episode 7, “Much Ado About Boimler,” Mariner joked about the Cerritos getting a “Babysitter Jellico-type,” for a subsitute captain, which referenced the temporary captain the Enterprise got in “Chain of Command.” Freeman, Shaxs and Ransom whore the all-black special ops outfits in that episode, too, and Tendi did the same in “Veritas.” 

Too Many Ships to Count 

As Mariner escapes from the Cardassian facility, there are soooo many ships being stored in this particular hanger. It’s all the ships. Here’s just a few we caught

A Federation runabout

Jem’Hadar fighters

A Nemesis-era Romulan warbird

An old school Romulan Bird-of-Prey from TOS

Federation fighter craft (like the ones seen in TNG’s “Preemptive Strike.”)

And many, many more.

Miranda-class USS MacDuff

Mariner steals a Miranda-class Federation starship with the registry NCC-1877, and the name “USS MacDuff.” There’s a lot going on here.

The Miranda-class was first seen in The Wrath of Khan, in the form of the USS Reliant. That film also featured someone stealing a ship like this with ease.

The bridge for this ship is basically identical to the Reliant.

Lower Decks showrunner Mike McMahan said in 2020 that he was inspired by the Reliant for the design of the Cerritos. 

The name “MacDuff” might reference the TNG character, Kieran MacDuff, from the episode “Conundrum.” In that one, the crew has temporary amnesia and MacDuff manipulates them into fighting a war they’re not supposed to be involved in.

Jennifer 

Jennifer is back! Mariner is interrupted during her holographic work-out by Jennifer, an Andorian crewmember from last season. In the Season 1 finale, “No Small Parts,” Mariner runs through the halls and pushes this character out of the way, saying, “Move Jennifer.” As far as we know, Jennifer is the only Andorian named Jennifer, but you really have to wonder, was this an Andorian name, or a human name? 

“I know we’re not supposed to have interpersonal conflict”

Mariner’s dislike of Jennifer is punctuated by her talking to herself saying, “I know we’re not supposed to have interpersonal conflict…but I really hate that Andorian.” This references a long-standing rule from the TNG–era of Trek TV; that Starfleet officers weren’t supposed to have petty differences with each other. This rule was apparently implemented by Gene Roddenberry and drove several writers, including Ron Moore and Jeri Taylor, nuts. 

Slightly new opening-credits

In Season 1, we saw the Cerritos running away from a battle involving a bunch of Borg cubes and Romulan Warbirds. Now, that same battle includes a Pakled ship from the Season 1 finale, a few Klingon Birds-of-Prey, and seemingly, fewer Borg. 

Fred Tatasciore’s name in the credits?

Although Shaxs died in the Season 1 finale, Fred Tatasciore’s name appears in the opening credits…hmmm…will this ever be explained? 

Rutherford’s date with Ensign Barnes

“Strange Energies” directly parallels the 2020 Season 1 debut, “Second Contact,” in several ways. The crew is involved with a second contact mission that goes horribly wrong and Rutherford starts dating Barnes for the “first” time. In the Season 1 finale, Rutherford lost his memory, which is why his relationship with Barnes seems new to him. This is why Mariner says “that sounds familiar.” 

Hating pears…a Doctor Who reference? 

Tendi is concerned that Rutherford used to hate pears, but now he doesn’t. This is possibly incorrect, but this could be a Doctor Who reference. In the Doctor Who episodes “Human Nature,” “Twice Upon a Time,” and “Hell Bent,” the Doctor (both David Tennant and Peter Capaldi) mention hating pears. In fact, in “Human Nature,” when the Doctor’s memory is erased, he asks Martha Jones to “never let me eat a pear.” 

Sonic power washing 

“Sonic showers” have long been a thing in the Star Trek universe, making their debut in Star Trek: The Motion Picture. But, we’ve never seen sonic power-washers before!

“Ever heard of Gary Mitchell”

Ransom’s possession is very much a tribute to Gary Mitchell’s god-like powers in the second TOS pilot episode “Where No Man Has Gone Before.” Dr. T’ana’s insistence that Kirk beat Gary Mitchell with a “boulder” is accurate. For whatever reason, the very first canonical Kirk-adventure ever, established that rock beats god-like powers any day of the week. It should also be noted that Mariner referenced Gary Mitchell in the first episode of Season 1, too.

Possible Harlan Ellison reference?

While Ransom is starting to work out, you can briefly hear him say, “The trick isn’t becoming a God. The trick is staying a God.” This could be a reference to the axiom attributed to Harlan Ellison: “The trick isn’t becoming a writer. The trick is staying a writer.” Ellison wrote “The City on the Edge of Forever,” for TOS. In Star Trek: Picard Season 1, Soji traveled on a ship called the Ellison, which Michael Chabon revealed was an Easter egg meant to reference Harlan Ellison. So, you never know? 

“The Trick isn’t becoming a god, the Trick is staying a god”

Harlan Ellison reference?

Ransom on the Mount

Mariner says that Jack is “going all Ransom on the Mount.” This almost certainly references a hilarious fan video called “Shatner on the Mount,” in which a group called Fall On Your Sword remixed a behind-the-scenes interview with William Shatner (promoting Star Trek V: The Final Frontier) into a hilarious kind of talking-rap song. It has to be seen to be believed. 

Giant God Head

A giant God head coming out to grab a starship might seem silly, but there are several precedents for this kind of thing in Trek canon. In the TOS episode “Who Mourns For Adonais?” a giant green hand grabs the Enterprise, which is later revealed to be the hand of the god Apollo. In the TNG episode “The Nth Degree,” the giant head of a Cytherian finds its way onto the Enterprise-D bridge. And, of course, in The Final Frontier, the crew meets “the God of Sha Ka Ree” which also, is a giant floating head. 

My older sister got a symbiont 

Barnes and Rutherford joke around that her Trill sister has a symbiont, but she doesn’t. This references the idea that not all Trill are joined, which was established in both TNG and Deep Space Nine.

Cetacean ops

Barnes mentions going swimming in “Cetacean ops,” a part of the USS Cerritos that we’ve never seen, but we have to assume has something to do with sea creatures. This is the second time Lower Decks has referenced Cetacean ops, which itself derives from an overheard line in TNG’s “Yesterday’s Enterprise.” Again, with yet another parallel to its Season 1 debut, “Cetacean ops” was last referenced by Lower Decks in Season 1, Episode 1, “Second Contact.”

“LDS thing”

Rutherford incorrectly refers to SMD as “LDS.” This references a few things. First, for most fans, the official abbreviation of Lower Decks is LDS. But, that abbreviation also references a joke from Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home in which Kirk incorrectly refers to the drug “LSD” as “LDS,” saying that Spock “did a little bit too much LDS back in the ‘60s.” 

Nightengale Woman 

At the end of the episode, Stevens tells Ransom he’s going to read him “Nightengale Woman.” This too is a reference to “Where No Man Has Gone Before,” which Gary Mitchell quotes from the poem “Nitengale Woman,” from memory. In Trek canon, the poem was written in 1996 on “the Canopus Planet.” In real life, the poem was written by Gene Roddenberry, who originally wrote part of the poem to describe flying a plane. 

Riker’s jam session

As the final moments of the episode cut back to the USS Titan, Captain Riker says “This jam session has too many licks and not enough counts.” In jazz, a “lick” refers to a pattern or musical phrase which is predetermined, but open to interpretation. Usually, a lick could result in a long jazz solo.  A “count” on the other hand, is more about the beat and form of a piece of music. Riker’s obsession with jazz began in the TNG episode “11001001.” In the season finale of Lower Decks Season 1, Riker’s catchphrase for sending the Titan into warp was a jazz count.

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Lower Decks Season 2 airs new episodes on Paramount+ on Thursdays.

The post Star Trek: Lower Decks Season 2 Episode 1 Easter Eggs & References appeared first on Den of Geek.

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