Space Uber

Posted on Mon Oct 27th, 2025 @ 1:29am by Petty Officer, 2nd Shaun Noakes & Lieutenant JG Tarek Sousa & 2nd Lieutenant Jekebb ch’Bari

2,753 words; about a 14 minute read

Mission: Long Night
Location: Earth
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 0000

[Shuttlepod 2 (Scobee)]
[December 31st, 2155]
[1000 Hours San Francisco Time]


The ascent in Shuttlepod Two had gone smoothly, all things considered. The dense winter fog of San Francisco had been like a cool wet blanket of mystery over the Presidio. By the time the Scobee had lifted off the pad and started it's climb, the cloud hovering mere inches from the Bay was transitioning to the drear of the rain. They were ascending through thick cloud cover now and would have been as blind as a bat if not for sensors.

Petty Officer Noakes sat the controls of the Shuttlepod, the seat next to him vacant. But he could feel the presence of the other in the back seats of the small pod. These pods were claustrophobic at best, barely fitting four. But in the tightness there had been an odd... silence.

Shaun was on his way back from San Francisco as well. A night out at the shows and clubs, some City-style Tapas. A little "walk of shame" going unvoiced as he was wearing the same uniform he'd left Headquarters with, along with his costume bag which sat in the seat next to him. Shaun looked towards its simple canvas shape, and then chanced a glance back

The silence continued.

This was his first Andorian.

He felt that nagging Human tendency of curiosity finally getting its leg over him. "Estimated tim eto arrive in Sao Paolo... twenty six minutes." He stated. Shaun paused and glanced at his reading. The curiosity won. "First time on Earth sir?" He piped up finally. The young person who turned to look at the Andorian had slightly unkempt black hair and possibly the deepest brown eyes one could conceive. His facial structure was an odd mixture of Human characteristics, not beautiful or handsome, but not ugly. Just... unusual. Thick neck, sloping shoulders, yet somehow suggesting... frail? An apple-shaped face and a hard jaw line. A nose to end all noses, like the Ice-Peckers on Andoria that used their beaks to feed on large mollusks. A mouth too big for his face. A touch of shadow over his lip and a spot on his chin. Something slightly darkened his eyelids, a remnant of perhaps not enough sleep? Or something else Human?

The IAS Relth had ferried Jekebb across the cold stretches of space to Earth, a world that still felt as alien to him as any barren rock on the frontier. He had spent the last week submerged in briefings, endless sessions detailing the peculiarities of United Earth’s engine and systems designs. Their technology was competent, even clever in some places, but so… inelegant. Functional, yes, but lacking the precision and discipline that Andorian engineers demanded.

One week. That was how long he’d endured this planet. One week of endless chatter, odd customs, and food so bland it made his mandibles ache for even a morsel of cured red at. Home was not an option. He knew that with a clarity that pressed on his chest like ice. A spacefaring vessel, at least, was the next best thing. Out there, the stars looked the same, whether viewed from Imperial decks or Earth’s patchwork hulls.

The pilot’s voice tugged him out of his thoughts. Jekebb cocked a thick white eyebrow at the man’s question.

“It is,” he said finally, his voice clipped, neutral, betraying neither irritation nor amusement. His eyes, however, narrowed ever so slightly. “Why are we stopping… where did you say… Sapolo?”

His stomach, however, betrayed him, tightening with hunger at the thought of something that wasn’t another plate of ‘burgers and fries,’ the strangely beloved staple of his new comrades. He had tried them twice now. Grease, starch, and a smear of something sweet that pretended to be flavor. His people would not have dignified it with the word meal.

"Sao Paolo." The shuttlepod pilot reiterated. "its a city in Brazil. We're picking up a..." Shaun leaned in to a schedule readout, "Comms Officer Sousa, Lieutenant." Shaun lifted and dropped a shoulder, "Then we'll break orbit for Challenger." The Human fell in to the Human ways when someone was perceived as new might need or want information. "Brazil's in the Earth's tropical zone. I don't think its as hot as Rio de Janeiro. But right now, its their Summer." He paused. "Its the old capital city of the old Brazilian Empire. It was an Augment stronghold for awhile. A little free trivia." He smiled his too-wide smile, creasing the edges of his mouth for a moment.

Jekebb’s antennae twitched sharply at the word tropical. The mere thought made his skin prickle with heat; San Francisco was already oppressively warm by his standards. He exhaled a short, almost resigned sigh, letting it cool the back of his throat before deciding, reluctantly, to keep the conversation going.

“I remember reading about the Augments,” he said at last, his tone clipped but steady. “One of the more… turbulent chapters in your history. Fascinating, in its way though brutal, and costly. Entire nations reshaped by a handful of altered minds.” His eyes narrowed slightly, not in judgment but in thought. “And yet, you persevered. Adapted. That persistence seems very… Human.”

That felt almost diplomatic coming from an Andorian. Shaun smiled in to a cheek. "Oh, give us three or four tries and we'll eventually get something right." He added. "We do what we can." There was another pause. "Do you want some music? I can put some over the comms." The shuttle, however, was already rising in temperature that was comfortable to most Humans. The air within was dry.

Jekebb would never admit it aloud, not to the pilot, not to anyone, but the music he had been surrounded with since his arrival on Earth was… not offensive to the ear. Quite the opposite, in truth. Though the rhythms were looser and the melodies far less rigid than the anthems and ceremonial pieces he had grown up with, there was a certain vitality in them, a pulse that reminded him of the bustling markets of Laibok. It was undisciplined, yes—but it was also alive.

He cleared his throat, as if to dispel the thought before it lingered too long. Straightening his posture, he masked his private admission with the cool exterior expected of an Andorian Guardsman.“Very well,” he said finally, giving the pilot a curt nod. His tone was clipped, businesslike, but there was the faintest glint in his eyes, as if he were quietly amused by the thought of what his comrades back home would say if they knew he didn’t hate Human music.

A strange play of sounds came across the speakers at the measured assent of the Andorian officer. It was fast paced. It had layers. It seemed the type of music that Humans seemed to dance to.

---

Tarek stood just inside the waiting area for Sao Paulo's primary landing strip, quietly repeating a series of phrases to himself under his breath. It was early and his head ached--another gift received after more dancing and wine than might have been expressly recommended before setting out for space. But despite having spent the last few hours soaking in as much of home as he could, he was dressed in the fresh blue jumpsuit style uniform he'd been sent with only a bit more five o'clock shadow than his usual. Almost without thinking he popped another breath mint, the spearmint taste only half effectively eliminating the combination of wine, garlic, and khoumena on his breath. Mint consumed, he returned to his recitation.

An announcement cut through the small space, calling out the incoming landing of the Scobee. Tarek looked up and spotted the small craft on its inbound approach. For a moment he stopped his recitation to watch and then, as if punctuating his memory, ran down the handful of foreign phrases he'd been repeating like a religious mantra for the last few minutes.

The pod was small, akin to something like an old Transit van in size. The rush of heat and vibration from the large square engines on the back rippled the already sweltering Sao Paolo day. With a creak its struts touched down on the hexagonal blast tiles of the landing zone. Well-marked orange lines marked out the safety zone. The shuttlepod had hovered in place and turned, enough to show its livery was that of the NX-03 Challenger. And this looked to be an evolutionary model in the older shuttlepod design- a little sleeker, yet also heavier? Different cockpit. Now its engines cut and it settled in to a humming idle.

"Agora ouça isso: plataforma de pouso 3, agora chega a nave espacial 'Scobee.'" A pause, "Agora embarque." Now boarding. That was Sousa's cue.

The boxy shape of the pod seemed to hum with heat and restrained energy as Tarek approached the landing pad, flashing his clearances for the man who stood between him and the Scobee. Required formalities cleared, he half jogged to the pod's waiting entrance, ducking his head slightly at the increased blast of heat that enveloped him as he reached the door and then stepped inside. His stomach lurched as booted feet met the deck plating of the small craft. This, he couldn't help thinking, is it.

The figure, who'd climbed out of the shuttlepod, was a lanky thing. He stood roughly at attention, "Welcome aboard sir." He waited for Tarek climb inside before he too clamored within. The redesign of the shuttlepod had made their interior a little more efficacious to boarding and deboarding. But it was still a small craft. The pilot tugged with a grunt to pull the hatch closed. It hissed and chunkily clicked shut. The effort of pulling had put Shaun in a backwards crab-like position in front of the two officers' seat.

He flashed a smile with a blink, raising off his elbows and butt. "Welcome aboard the Scobee. Next stop is the Challenger."

The Andorian’s gaze swept over the shuttle’s new occupant with the practiced precision of a Guardsman sizing up an unfamiliar ally. He inclined his head in a curt nod of greeting, the motion crisp but not unfriendly. Ranks, those were going to take some getting used to. The rigid, unmistakable hierarchy of the Imperial Guard had been bred into him since he was a child on the General’s knee, but Starfleet’s insignia still felt alien, their system of pips deceptively simple yet strangely nuanced.

His dark eyes lingered a fraction longer than was polite on Sousa’s insignia, tracing the gleaming points of rank as though willing them to sort themselves into the equivalent he knew. For a moment, his antennae shifted in faint irritation, betraying his discomfort before he stilled them again.

Jekebb straightened, reminding himself this was no longer the Imperial Guard, no longer Andoria. He was among Humans now, and adaptation was as much a weapon as any phase pistol. Still, the question pressed at the back of his mind: where, exactly, did his place fall in this new order of things?

It was with a certain degree of glee--heavily curtailed by awareness that glee was unlikely the right way to introduce himself--that Tarek returned the nod of the Andorian passenger. His nod was less curt and more of a bow of recognition... one that started only at the neck so as not to go beyond propriety. He suspected the motion looked odd on him, but hoped it conveyed the appropriate acknowledgement.

And then, regardless of appropriateness, he stuck out his hand for the Andorian to shake. The mantra that he had been repeating over and over under his breath was, as it turned out, a greeting for which he had been practicing his accent. The words of greeting in Imperial Andorian rolled smoothly off his tongue. Or, at least, he thought it was smooth. He followed them on with a few more in the standard linguacode. "I'm Tarek Sousa. Ahm... Lieutenant Junior Grade." His hand went unconsciously to his insignia. He still hadn't quite gotten used to the rank part of things. "Communications officer."

Jekebb clasped Sousa’s hand with a practiced familiarity, his grip firm,an imitation of the human handshake he had encountered so often in his short time on Earth. By now, the motion no longer felt entirely foreign, though it still carried with it the faint awkwardness of ritual observed rather than instinct shared.

“Second Lieutenant Jekebb ch’Bari,” he said, his tone deep and deliberate, carrying the weight of one who had been trained to speak with clarity and precision. His antennae tilted forward ever so slightly, signaling both attentiveness and authority. “Imperial Mechanical Brigade. I have been assigned as Chief Engineer.”

He delivered the introduction without flourish, almost matter-of-fact, as though reciting a service record rather than extending a courtesy. To Jekebb, the information itself was the point, not the delivery. Still, beneath the deep and rigid cadence of his words, there was an unmistakable note of pride. His posture, broad shoulders square, rucksack slung with military neatness, reinforced the impression of a man both disciplined and ready to prove himself aboard this unfamiliar Earth vessel.

Tarek grinned, gripping the proffered hand firmly despite the foreignness of its feel. ch'Bari hadn't been offended by his use of Imperial Andorian as a greeting--at least he didn't think so. So he took that as a win and, letting go of his hand settled himself into his seat. "Glad you're covering that job and not me," he said with casual humor. "Languages, yes... I'll chat with the machines any day. But actually sorting them out..." he shrugged, securing himself in the seat as he did so. "Do you have a favorite part of the job?"

The question landed oddly in Jekebb’s ears. His antennae angled toward Sousa as though they could parse some hidden meaning in the words. After a pause, he straightened slightly in his seat. “No,” he said simply, his tone even but laced with genuine confusion. He blinked once, expression unchanging. “Should I?”

It was not sarcasm, nor dismissal, though he realized belatedly that it might sound that way to Human ears. Jekebb had meant it honestly. It was an earnest attempt to follow the thread of what he thought might be a social custom. The effort showed in the faintest tug of his mouth, something approximating a smile, though to Andorian eyes it was hardly convincing.

"Is everyone comfortable back there?" Noakes' voice came back from the cockpit. "We're about to break atmo. I'm deploying grav plating."

For someone whose whole purpose in being aboard the Challenger revolved around communication, Sousa was quietly concerned that he'd somehow already managed to offend the Andorian sitting across from him. He was also quietly thankful for the slight break in the conversation offered by Noakes' inquiry. Tarek smiled broadly, looking to ch'Bari to confirm his assertion as he called back, "We're all set back here!"

The Andorian offered a curt nod. Nothing too telling, but enough to signal his agreement.

The feeling of the grav plating suddenly functioning as the force defining up from down seemed like it should have been a simple, almost imperceptible, adjustment. To Tarek, though, it amounted to feeling as if there was something tugging on his toes. His body, so recently used to the tug of Earth gravity, had the slightly uncomfortable sensation of something being different without really being able to nail down exactly what.

And then his body adjusted and the sensations fled. He looked up from his feet, where his eyes had been drawn at the shift in sensation, and met the Andorian's eyes. "Never fails to throw me for a loop," he quipped before answering the earlier posited question. "I don't suppose you have to have a favorite. I just know lots of folks who do."

Jekebb raised an eyebrow. ‘Curious’ he thought, still he knew that the point of his being here had as much to do with socialization as it did work. “Petty Officer,” His antennae twitched in the direction of the cockpit, “perhaps we could resume the musical selection you were playing earlier?”

"Sure, sir." Shaun smiled agreeably backward. Through the speakers piped some sort of dance music, filling the moment of silence. Shaun meanwhile focused on diverting course in to the lanes of space traffic that would take them to the Challenger, currently parked in the LaGrange between Earth and Luna.

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