How Low Can You Go?

Posted on Fri Mar 13th, 2020 @ 3:29am by Jinx Jorasco & Fordyce Kirschler PhD

Mission: Mission 11 - Prospecting
Location: Jinx's Quarters
Timeline: Prior to Mission Start
1278 words - 2.6 OF Standard Post Measure

Ford looked down at the padd in his hand one more time to double-check the work order. He couldn't remember the last time he held a Federation-style padd or looked at a work order patterned after Starfleet, much less followed one. It felt uncomfortably like being back in Starfleet. He didn't much care for it, so on day one he was already questioning the wisdom of taking this job.

He pressed the door chime twice, waited for the door to open, and then had to crane his neck downwards a bit to see the occupant who appeared in the doorway.

"Uh, hey there, little sister. Your momma home?"

Jinx blinked as she looked up at the Human. “Your momma jokes already?” the child-sized woman asked. “Does a kid have these?” She pointed to the breasts on her chest. “So who are you?” She turned and walked from the door, letting him into the quarters. There was a patter of feet and a dinosaur the size of a cat scampered into the living room. It gave a hiss at Jake and trotted up, sniffing at him, a sharp, dangerous claw tapping on the carpeted floor as it tried to determine if he was something good to disembowel and eat.

Ford kept a wary eye on the creature as he took a few steps into the little woman's quarters. Since he'd been disarmed by that Other Ford, he felt largely defenseless. "Ford Kirschler. I'm here to fix," he glanced down at the work order; it didn't even say what he was here to repair, "whatever isn't working."

“Oh, that! Good!” Jinx said. “I put that in.” She gestured around the room. “What do you see?” she asked.

The room was completely...normal. Standard furnishings. Ford had to admit that he either saw a lot or nothing at all. Nothing appeared to be obviously broken, at least nothing that fell under his purview. Before he could say anything, the little girl was getting herself all worked up.

“Everything is built for you Bigs!” Jinx said, seeing the dumbfounded look on his face. “Spirits forfend! I am not lugging a stepladder around my own quarters! I have to do that enough in the labs!”

"The labs?" asked Ford with deepening confusion. He'd caught on that she came from some small humanoid species - as she'd rightly pointed out, she had physically moved out of adolescence - but that didn't explain much else.

“I’m the new science officer,” Jinx said proudly. “And like everything else on this ship, the labs and offices are built with big people in mind!” She gestured to the door, where a step stool sat beside it. “I have to lug that around everywhere. I don’t want to do that in my own quarters.”

Ford referred to the work order for what felt like the thousandth time. Somehow someone from Ops filled it out without a single mention of accessibility issues. He thought he'd come down here to fix a broken computer console or deal with some requisitions request gone awry. Instead, he was playing interior designer.

"So, you're saying you just want everything," began Ford as he looked around; for effect, he buckled his knees slightly to reduce his own height. "Lower?"

“Yes!” Jinx said, smiling brightly at Ford. “Gold star for you!” She hopped up on the couch. Her knees didn’t even bend when she leaned back. It was like a child on adult furniture. “How long will this take?” she asked him. “And don’t forget the bathroom.”

"Well, I reckon it'll take longer'n you want," replied Ford. It was a blunt but good-natured reply. "Custom fitting a waste extraction unit shouldn't be too hard; they're usually pretty configurable. Bolians and all that. We can get a work crew in here for the rest. A solid day's work oughta bring everything up to Federation accessibility standards. Lower, that is."

Jinx beamed. “Wonderful!” she said. “I will owe you a night out or something, Mr. Kirshler,” she said with a grin, looking up at the tall Human, as a small, cat-sized raptor trotted out of the bedroom, looked at Ford, hissed, and jumped up to settle on the couch beside Jinx.

Ford cracked open his kit and began making a few measurements of the place, as well as Jinx herself. He thought somewhere in some open-source Federation database might be a program to help calculate necessary adjustments needed for equipment based on her specifications. Not that this ship was likely going to be undergoing Federation inspection for code violations, but he liked to get a job right. Most of the time.

"That there your ground transport?" smirked Ford, gesturing toward the raptor-like creature.

Jinx glared a bit. “Zambi is my friend,” she said. “And she is too small to ride. My riding clawfoot is back home. His name is Zuli. Completely different species.”

"Zambi," mimicked Ford, like he was chewing on the word. "Nice name. Reminds me of a river." He carried on with his measurements, though he spoke while doing it. "So, where you from? Can't say as I've ever seen anyone like you. Or Zambi."

“I am Kisongo,” the little woman said, watching the Human work. “From the Kisongo Confederation. We are on the other side of the galaxy in what the Federation calls the Shackleton Expanse in the Beta Quadrant. On the other side of the Romulans and Klingons. We made first contact when you all started exploring out of Narendra Station,” Jinx said. “I am from one of our moon colonies. Zambi and her kind are indigenous to Kisongo, and came with us wherever we settled in the Confederation.” The cat-sized raptor had leapt up onto the couch, and Jinx scratched behind Zambi’s eye ridges.

"Shackleton Expanse, huh? Kisongo... Never heard of it," remarked Ford, though he meant nothing by it. Without an invitation, he seated himself on a piece of the normal sized furniture, produced a padd from his work kit, and began browsing the ship's inventory to see if he could find more suitable pieces for her quarters without having to resort to extreme modifications. "I'm from 7274 Herschelii IV. It's a little middle-of-nowhere planet outside the Federation. How you takin' a liking to 'em? The Federation, I mean."

“They seem good enough,” Jinx said. “Like to talk a bit too much when action is needed. Not like the Klingons. But at least you can trust them, not like the Romulans. They have no honor.”

Ford snorted. "Them and Ferengi. You met a Ferengi yet? Big ol' bulbous heads, sharp teeth, beady eyes?"

“Oh, yes.” Jinx rolled her eyes. “They were the first we met after the Klingons, Federation, and Romulans. Like carrion-eaters, they are! Always hovering around the longclaws, waiting for a chance to steal a piece of the kill.”

Ford nodded his head, made a noise of agreement, and then eased up from his sitting position. "That's an apt description. Had a piece of my kill snatched more'n once by one of those sons of bitches." He closed down the padd in his hand and began packing up his kit. "I'm gonna head down to storage and see what I can scrounge up for ya. Rest of it'll take some custom work, but nothin' we can't handle in a day or two."

Jinx hopped off the couch to walk Ford to the door. “Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said. “I appreciate the effort. If you ever need anything in return, let me know.”

---

Dr. Fordyce Kirschler
Chief of Operations
SS Mary Rose

Jinx Jorasco
Chief of Science
SS Mary Rose