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Guest Laarell

One-Hundred Twenty Days, Pt. III

Day Two

 

"Laarell!! Aren't you excited to see me?"

 

"They made you the deputy head of the Starfleet Geological Services Division?"

 

The mechanical wheeze sounded indignant. "Of course they did. After all, you humanoids can't determine the chemical makeup of a rock by taste."

 

"There are other Hortas in the Fleet!"

 

Kahrak, also recently-minted commander in Starfleet, would have smiled if it were possible beneath the acidic rolls of silicon. "I have extraordinarily well-developed senses of taste."

 

Laarell sighed, looking quite tired and dismayed. "They make you all but brass and put me in charge of cadetlings. This universe isn't fair."

 

"Oh, come on," the Horta soothed. "It's only a temporary position until they find somewhere better for me. Besides, I'll probably get fired. Remember the first year geology course?"

 

The Orion didn't blink. "When you drank the latinum?"

 

"I can't say it wouldn't happen again." A chuckle from the voice-generator rang out, and Laarell couldn't help but laugh as well. "So," he continued, "where's Citrus? You didn't lose or squash her, did you?"

 

"No!" Laarell cried, indignant as Kahrak had been. "I take good care of my spider.[/i]

 

"Well, then, where is she?"

 

"Still on the ship."

 

"She's probably lonely."

 

Laarell rolled her eyes. "I've been away from her for longer stretches than one night. And you do know they can go a night without a cricket."

 

Kahrak shuffled across the floor towards the door of his Spartan, stone-decorated apartment. "She didn't like being underfed when I had her."

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"We are going up to Excalibur."

 

"Now?"

 

"Yes, now. We're going up to get your spider before moth-balling turns into spider-squishing."

 

"I have to get packing things, silly -- I didn't clean out anything in Sci yet."

 

Kahrak's voice turned impatient -- something Laarell was always in awe of, considering that it was a mechanism that provided all his speech. Amazing that it could be programmed well enough to even manufacture accurate inflections. She wanted to see that programming. "Hurry up, then, and let's get what you need. I want to see Citrus."

 

"No nice, leisurely, friendly luncheon first? I'm starving and haven't eaten anything but replicated food for eons."

 

"You'll live."

 

Laarell fake-glared at him. "You're a really nice friend. You know that, right?"

 

"Of course. After all, I sent you your Citrus."

 

Two hours later

 

The corridor they passed through was barely recognizable, even though Laarell had gone down it nearly every day she served on Excalibur.

 

"Goddess," she murmured, "they certainly didn't waste any time demolishing, did they?"

 

"Just the surface layers," Kahrak corrected quietly. "Most of the systems are actually still intact."

 

"But considering we were 'deported' less than twenty-four hours ago..."

 

"Starfleet works quickly."

 

They reached the main science lab quickly, and even on the other side of the room, Laarell could tell that the orange tarantula looked upset.

 

Maybe it was the Bolian with a welding torch about two meters away from her.

 

"Hold on," Laarell called out over the wheeze of the tool. "Can you come back later? I need to do some stuff in here."

 

The rotund blue man nodded curtly (and obviously annoyed), but headed out nonetheless.

 

Kahrak was snickering.

 

"What?"

 

"They say Orions are irresistible."

 

Laarell stared at him, unamused. "One, I was asking someone for a courtesy. Two, I take a pheromone suppressant, thank you very much, and three, it's a myth."

 

"Sure, sure."

 

"You're really not funny today," Laarell commented, and opened the lid of the terrarium, catching a pouncing OBT* before it hit the ground. "And neither are you!" she announced, sourly, looking at an on-the-warpath Citrus.

 

"She's not a very nice pet at any rate," Kahrak told her.

 

The Orion whirled on him. "You sent it to me."

 

"I figured it'd be one pet not swayed easily by your wily charms and that wasn't cute enough to distract from you."

 

"I hate you sometimes."

 

"Now, now, greenie..." Kahrak was laughing that annoyingly condescending laugh again. "You know I'm right. You wouldn't want an adorable little pet that everyone would focus on. And besides, orange complements green so prettily."

 

Laarell huffed, setting Citrus on Kahrak's back (and surprisingly, she remained), and making her way to her office with Horta and spider.

 

He wolf-whistled -- Laarell had forgotten he could wolf-whistle. "You had a nice office, Laarell."

 

"Yes, I know," she replied with fake brightness. "I did earn it, after all."

 

Kahrak grew thoughtful. "You're young for a commander, Laarell."

 

"Pot calling kettle black? Or maybe I should say... Horta calling glass silica?"

 

"Now, now, greenie, we age differently than you."

 

"Oh, so now you're my big Horta brother?" She grinned. "Just don't run off my potential boyfriends, and I'm fine with that."

 

"Now did I ever do that at the Academy?"

 

Another fond grin. "Decidedly, no. At least not after I promised that if I saw any attractive female Hortas, I'd send them your way."

 

Kahrak growled. "You didn't even follow through with that promise, and I still was a good little acid-boy."

 

Laarell rolled her eyes, familiar with the argument. "I thought she was attractive, for the fiftieth time." Actually, Laarell hadn't had a clue, but since all Hortas looked alike to her...

 

"Goodness, Laarell. You have no taste in Horta females."

 

"A fact I have no trouble admitting to," she replied smoothly, tossing knicknacks and padds and the results of half-baked experiments in the crates they'd brought. "I love you, Kahrak, but I think I'd have trouble relating to silicon-based life on... intimate levels."

 

"Best then," Kahrak agreed, "that you leave attractive Horta females to me?"

 

"Agreed."

 

---

 

* - Common abbreviation in the pet industry for orange baboon tarantula, or more fondly, "orange bitey thing".

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