#entpilot

It felt like some kind of teenage operation, sneak out of her parents house without getting caught. Though it was trying to get out of the Ensign quarters without anyone spotting her and asking her what the hell it was she was hiding under her sweater. That was the fun thing about being off duty for the next 36 hours. How it had happened she didn’t know but Tilly was more than sure it was something to do with overtime regulations.

A plan had been hatched, mostly through punctuation via the ships messaging system. It was Tilly’s job to get the contraband to the right place, that being her friends quarters. A swift walk down the hallway, red hair flowing behind her, black dress and baggy sweaty…and then into the turbolift. She had, on purpose, left it an hour or so into Delta shifts work rota, they would be just getting done with hand over and getting down to work. The hallways would be quiet, no one to ask too many questions.

Hitting the chime on the door, she made it inside, waited for it to slide closed behind her before breathing a sigh of relief. “Oh my god, its dead out there.” Thankfully. Proudly, she pulled the sealed bottle of alcohol out. A contraband bottle of purple Risian moonshine. “You know, I’m actually impressed with how much contraband the crew on this ship have hidden away,” oh, there was a part of her that thought it was actually incredible. “I traded a weeks worth of rec time for this by the way.” Worth it. Worth every moment.

   Lieutenant Aella Moore was tired. This, of course, was not entirely unusual, based on a consistent lack of sleep and a shift that usually fell in gamma. Not unusual, but notable, all the same, for today was a notable day. 

   It was alpha, around 0830, when she received the hail. A distress signal had been found on a yet unexplored planet of which the Enterprise was now in-orbit — a planet clouded with heavy ionic storms, disturbances that made safe transport to the planet rather difficile. They need a linguist —  her. They needed a security officer — Ensign Mal Sta’al, an energetic Olouvein with four sets of eyes and an excitable beam. And they needed a pilot. 

   Lieutenant Eric Ortegas, one inch shorter and one grade her superior. The helmsman of the U.S.S. Enterprise. A natural choice for such a mission — she would be in safe hands with her, she was sure. 

   ( Still — there lived apprehension. Just beneath the surface of her flat, unchanging face — edging its way through her body, like an illness. And it was, wasn’t it? Emotion was such a weakness, an ailment, one that paraded, prevailed... ) 

:*･゜ﾟ･*☆:*･゜ﾟ･*☆:*･゜ﾟ･*☆:*･゜ﾟ･*☆:*･゜ﾟ･*☆:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

The standard response was at the tip of her tongue, ready to launch - but stuck. She found that she couldn't quite give voice to it. The inquiry reminded her of a medical examination, gently probing around a fresh injury. And damn if it didn't hurt. She tried to smile instead but the twist of her lips must have looked grotesque, and so she stopped, searching for something positive to present.

"Thank you. I wasn't, you know, injured or anything like that."

Unlike Hemmer. A memory flashed, of his body dropping out of view in the distance. I could've helped. He didn't have to-

The thought lingered for a heartbeat, unfinished, before she pushed it away. "I'm not okay", she admitted quietly. "But I will be." Her hands twisted around each other restlessly as she forced herself to add: "Hey, do you-" Deep breath. "Do you maybe want to stay for a bit?"

“Always.” She did not thing twice. Tilly didn’t have to. “Always, I promise.” It was a promise that she intended to keep. While it was unexpected that they had become so close, it was something that she treasured. A snapshot of friendship that she ahd been denied for most of her life.

Letting her hands settle on both of ERica’s shoulders, her hands moved to her cheeks, “look at me.”It felt like the right thing to do, even if she would lay in bed afterwards and ask herself over and over and over again if she had said and done the right thing. “Erica, you are my best friend. I mean that from the bottom of my heart.” Every word was spoken with honesty and conviction.

Friendships like this didn’t come along twice in a lifetime. Erica brought out the best in her, she felt fearless when she was facing down a disaster with Erica by her side. She had grown as a person during her time on Enterprise that was for sure. How funny, that even a year ago, she would laugh at the prospect of being on an away team and here she was, leading them.

“No,” a hushed whisper, but frankly, she felt the need to double check. “I was just checking so when I have to explain that we actually had nothing to do with this, I’m telling the truth.” Yet, Tilly wasn’t ready to leave, she wanted to see how the situation was going to evolve. Ordering herself fries, a side salad, and a triple espresso she eyed the stirring  trouble. It wasn’t unlike the Cadets to get a bit too rambunctious…especially so on a long warp. Two days to reach their destination. Two days of boredom and simple ‘are we there yet.’

Still, such downtime led to bickering rising to the top. Picking her food up she picked a table, one with a prime view of the brewing trouble. “Punches are about to be thrown.” She predicted, picking up a fry and munching on it. “Do you know what happened, I am actually behind on this one.” Normally between the two of them they knew the entire ships business, not this time.

Right on cue, the first punch was throwing. “When the Captain finds out he’s going to hit the roof.” It was unreal, and Tilly was sure within ten minutes that the entire ship was going to know. It was only a matter of minutes until it worked its way up the chain of command. Maybe she would have expected this behavior on a lower ranked ship but it was proof that even the smartest cadet could do something utterly stupid.

@entpilot​

a single brow rose, what she was talking about could be considered weakness, or at least that is what erica thought.  “there are times when apologies are needed, even if the right kind of people don’t want an apology.” came the reply. erica’s eyes were settled on the data padd in front of her, eyes looking over different new patterns that had come from the heat of battle, they impressed her beyond words and she could only help that she’d be able to try some of these.  “for example,” she continues using her left hand to place the data padd down on the table between them.  “if you and I got into an argument over which section of engineering was the best, I disagreed and said something stupid—i would apologize.”  

a smile is offered. “however if I did something to blow out someone’s nacelles that were in hot pursuit of enterprise, you wouldn’t hear and apology coming from these lips.” a chuckle follows her words, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, she took a moment to study Helena.  “sounds like you had an apology go wrong somewhere down the line?”

'It's what my dad used to say.' Despite the blunt harshness of the spoken statement, she breaks into a smile that's almost warm. 'The Redfords never apologise.' A deep laugh follows suit, but Helena's eyes steel briefly, fleetingly as she ponders over what has brought the memory on. The distinctive mix of the smells: coffee and oil? Maybe it was because of the crew talking engineering duties at the table next to them. Was that the reason Erica also mentioned it subconsciously... or purely coincidentally? Many things delight her about the situation. Even though the underlying notion Hel brought forth is disappointing in its bitterness, she appears to stay upbeat. Thanks, in part, to the half-joking comment on the stringency towards the potential enemy.

'Can't imagine you throwing anything at me that would require an apology.' Indeed, insulting her is quite the task, for she takes no shame in the truth and is hardly bothered by words that hold little to none of it. 'But, yeah. I get what you mean.' She had come a long way from blindly trusting the philosophies of others, figuring out her own, and, to be fair, Helena wasn't above apologising in specific cases. Her motives, she suspected, were far less cordial than that of her company. Smooth cooperation without the turbulence of conflict has its merits.