Star Trek: Starbase 777

Oh, the petting zoo. Perhaps the stinkiest yet cutest place in the entire festival. Imagine Khitomer Alliance and Federation farm animals, but baby versions. We're talking tiny goats that only come up to your knees, little targs bumping you with their snouts (watch out for their teeth), and a number of other beasties for petting and cooing over.

M’Rish was crouched by a pen of young chickens, watching them hop around with his tail swaying in curiosity. They were so small— it amazed him that they could maneuver around the way they did, with webbed feet the size of their faces.

One of the teeny birds looked intently at M’Rish and let out a very loud PEEP! And then darted between their legs.

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Flinching, he fell backwards, flopping onto the ground with the little chick right beside his head. “Hi.” He muttered, “How in the world are you so tiny?”

“PEEP! Peep peep peep peep peep!” The chick…peeped. Its tiny beady chicken eyes were focused on M’Rish. It hopped closer to his face. Perhaps it wanted something.

“You, uh… you probably want food.” He mumbled, searching and finding a handful of seeds on the ground, possibly left for another bird. He gathered them, holding out his hand for the bird to peck at.

“Peep peep!” The bird watched as M’Rish gathered the seed, hopping excitedly as it realized there was food! It scurried to M’Rish’s outstretched hand and began pecking the seeds from their palm!

He let out a soft laugh, shifting to kneel on the ground, moving his empty hand to gently pat the chick on the head, trying not to disturb it.

The chick accepted the pats, to distracted by the glorious seeds to care much. Plus M’Rish was very gentle and not scary.

It felt strange, being so trusted by something small. Small animals were always keen to run from things larger than them, but this little creature had no reservations against him. It was kind of nice. “What’s your name?” He whispered, grinning.

The bird had ravenously gobbled up all of the seeds by the time M’Rish asked his question. It looked up to him with its little black eyes, its feathery head tilted curiously to one side and, “Peep!”

He glanced around, unsure of whether there was more seed to be found. “Peep’s your name?” He asked, as if he could get the bird to confirm, “It’s a very nice name. Suits you.”

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Shears was very busy avoiding her responsibilities. It had seen a group of people rushing in a frenzy, and out of curiosity, she wandered into the festival. It had already visited several food stands, with a box of food tucked under its arm, and it was doing another perimeter sweep. She was walking about the petting zoo when it recognized a pair of long, furry ears. "Hello, Nurse." She said from behind him.

He jumped a little, before seeing the familiar pair of red eyes that belonged to Shears. “Detective!” He greeted them, “Nice to see you. You, uh— enjoying the festival?”

The bug flicked its antennae. "There's a festival? That explains why everyone is neglecting their work."

The chick peeped again and then scurried away to find more seeds.

Shears tilted its head. "The animal seems afraid of me."

“He’s just hungry.” He chuckled, “You didn’t scare him away. And— yeah, you didn’t know it was a festival? You’ve found some cool stuff, for sure.* He gestured towards the box in the insectoid’s arms.

The chick continued to peep as it ran off and caught up with the other chicks and disappeared into the throng of tiny birds. From another part of the pen, a bay goat approached, stinky and bleating. “Baa-AA!”

He turned his eyes downward, at the goat as it trotted over. “Hello to you too.” He greeted it, “I’m guessing you’re here for attention as well.”

Shears looked down, still stood fully up as M'Rish called to the animals. "What are you doing?" They asked.

“This is a petting zoo! You spend time with animals and you get to pet them.” He shrugged, “Have you never been to one before?”

"Zoo.. I have interacted with animals, yes." Shears said, obliviously.

“C’mere.” He gestured to them, “You should try. Just sit still, and don’t make sudden moves. They’ll come towards you.”

Shears shrugged and kneeled next to M'Rish, bumping his side. They looked around, blinking. "I haven't moved in a few seconds... I should be working." They said nearly immediately.

The baby goat bleated again and trotted up to Shears, lowering its head and bonking into their leg. Not hard enough to hurt or knock them over, just enough to be kind of annoying or cute depending on how you looked at it. “Baaaaaa!” (edited)

Shears turned its head to look down at the goat. "I think it wants to kill me. Luckily, I am stronger."

Eyes wide, he shook his head. “No— they don’t want to kill you! It wants you to pet it. Give it attention, y’know?”

Thankfully the goat did not understand. It backed up a few steps and looked at Shears with its dark eyes. “Baaa!” Then it reached its mouth up to Shears’ shirt hem and began to chew.

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"It is beginning to brutalize me." Shears said calmly.

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Chomp chomp chomp. And only the shirt. Was the fabric beginning to fray? Perhaps there was something else it could eat?

Shears reached into their crate, looking at the assortment of food. "Nurse, do you think the animal would leat me live if I fed it squid ink with seaweed chips?"

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“Oh— maybe you don’t keep that guy.” M’Rish said, “Hold on— let me grab some food meant for this little friend.” He jumped to his feet, remembering that he’d spied a machine distributing food pellets.

Yes! Many food pellets were available at multiple machines - one on either end of the rectangular pen, not far away at all an could be reached in a few strides more or less. The goat kept chewing on Shears' shirt, since they didn't make it stop. Chewy chewy chewy.

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He grabbed a cup of the little pebble-like animal snacks, returning to Shears in hopes of saving the most of her clothing without too much goat-related-damage. “Here.” He sat beside her, handing over the pellets.

The baby goat began to sniff the air, but its mouth remained on Shears' shirt. It did that weird animal sniffling thing and its upper lip curled a little bit, which is apparently a way that goats smell better. Thanks google.

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Shears took a cup of pellets, and pinched one between his fingers. He waggled the single pellet in the air, trying to get the goat's attention.

“At least it seems to like you.” M’Rish giggled, watching as Shears tried to catch the goat’s eyes. “You know, goats have an extremely interesting flight response!” He mentioned, “Their muscles will lock up when they’re excited or frightened, and they’ll fall over like statues.”

Shears reached in the cup again and pulled out two more pellets, attempting to get the goat's attention. "Why?" Shears asked. She didn't exactly understand what M'Rish was talking about, but hearing the Caitian officer ramble about some facts he knew seemed to put her at ease in some way.

“It’s an inherited disorder of a chloride channel in the muscles. Basically, it causes a delayed reaction in the muscle relaxation after they’ve made an involuntary movement.” He spoke quickly, as if it were the easiest thing to talk about, “It’s technically only one breed of goat that does this, but it’s similar to a human condition, called congenital myotonia.”

Shears put a few pellets down on the ground and with his free hand, poked the top of the hungry goat's head.

The goat had been sniffing but very distracted with Shears' shirt. Upon getting poked in the head, it extricated its teeth from the fabric and followed Shears' fingers to the food and immediately scarfed it. All weird goat noises included. It did not seem to be aware that M'Rish was talking about what would happen if it got frightened.

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“It does like you. Or finds your clothing tasty.” He smiled, watching the young creature eat out of Shear’s hand.

Shears continued to hold out handfuls of the goat's food for it to munch on, not too bothered by the ruined uniform. The benefit of being able to replicate clothing. "It isn't afraid, because its limbs can still move." Shears poked again at the goat's back while it ate. "Endoskeletons are strange. They're so soft."

The goat chomped. Unfortunately for Shears, their tongue was very slobbery. Goat slobber on your hands, babes. It ate happily, every single piece, and then started licking Shears' palm.

“Yeah, we’re not all pointy.” He agreed, “Except for the little horns on this dude.”

The big bug let the goat continue eating him, though he turned around to look at the rest of the zoo, keeping his hand level for the goat to lick. "There are many strange creatures here."

Ignoring the fact that the goat was currently trying to gnaw on his friend, he followed where Shears was looking. “It’s fascinating. And they’re all relatively tame, too.”

Shears swiveled its head to look at M'Rish. "What other animals are here?" She asked.

There were so many animals there. Lots of Terran ones, mostly, but some little Cardassian voles scampered through. There were like two tiny ponies. A donkey. More goats and chicks. Some baby Klingon 'uSghebmey (weird Klingon chickeny things!), and... miniature targs! Of which, one had noticed Shears and M'Rish with food and... was heading straight for them!

“Oh— we’ve got a new visitor.” He chirped, “There’s targs, at least.”

Shears held out a handful of feed for the targ lumbering towards them. "Will this one also try to eat me?"

The goat went for the food in Shears' outstretched hand. The baby targ was zooming even faster and making a weird squealing noise. "SCREEEEE~"

He shook his head, grinning. “Not if you don’t give him the chance to,” He joked, before correcting himself, “But— probably not, no.”

Shears watched, detached, as the targ bolted for them, only letting out an unenthused, "Oh, no."

It was a very loud little guy. Squaling and screeeeing and snorting. It kinda freaked the goat out, which darted away as the targ got right up in Shears' personal space. Unfortunately all the food was gone from the goat and now the targ was waiting very expectantly, nosing Shears almost aggressively.

Shears stayed upright, but was continually pushed by the rough animal. He stayed quite unmoved despite the beast pressing its feet into their stomach, thanks to the exoskeleton. "Why is it so cross?"

Fretting over the energetic targ, M’Rish’s ears pinned to the side of his head. “Hungry? Maybe?” He suggested, “Are we in its way?”

Weird chompy noises. Its teeth were chomping and it was drooling and snorting at Shears' hands, which smelled of food.

Shears snorted. They didn't necessarily want to get up, but also the targ clearly wanted to get food. "I'm going to pick it up." Shears said confidently. They attempted to hold the animal's sides with their buggy hands.

"SCREEEEE"! The targ squealed very loudly and wiggled desperately.

"It is angry." Shears released the loud animal.

It flopped to the ground with a thunk. Once it scrambled to its feet it looked at Shears, backed up, lowered its head, and roared.

“Oh—“ He froze, before watching it run off. “Yeah, it… looked angry. You’re a brave bug, Shears.”

"I was going to feed it." They said, confused. "I don't understand why it was so upset."

“I think you startled it, picking it up like that. Targs are fairly easy to upset.” He told them, watching it as it skittered around, “Not your fault.”

It ran circles around the two for a minute and then skittered to a stop at M'Rish's feet this time.

His eyes widened, staring down at the targ with undeniable terror, but carefully held out a hand anyways. “…Hi, buddy.”

"Be careful." Shears cautioned. "It is very rambunctious. It will likely break your weak and brittle endo bones."

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“Thanks, Shears.” He squeaked, gaze locked onto the creature in front of him, hoping to any gods that he wouldn’t get his bones broken today.

Allan walked over to the petting zoo carefully, and quickly realized that it was... well, it was quite literally a zoo, sure, but it did seem to be... a lot. Still, though, it didn't look too crowded in terms of people, and he didn't know a single one of them, so... good? Yes. Sure. Good. He could do this! He didn't want to bother the group that was already there, but he really wanted to see the little baby targs, so.. that's where he went, standing still to observe the creatures before making any attempts to go closer to them.

Shears grabbed a clump of pellets and spilled them on the floor to try and distract the targ from M'Rish with food.

Aha!! The targ immediately fixed its eyes on the pellets and darted to them, snuffling them up ravenously.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he thanked Shears under his breath, scooting away from the hungry torg. He glanced behind him, spying Allan. Despite the fact that he hadn’t yet been acquainted with him, he knew who he was— Ed never shut up about him. “Hello, Lieutenant.” He offered a quick wave, painfully aware of how dusty his pant legs were.

As Allan approached, a baby ‘uSghbmey chick waddled up and made a tiny BAK sound.

Holy shit. It was the robot chicken. But small, and very baby, and cute, and - notably - not a robot. However, he was very unsure if this thing had such a powerful bite as the adults did - certainly not as strong as a robot adult, but... well, they wouldn't have them in a petting zoo attended by many children if they bit that hard, right? Right. Just as he had squatted down to gently reach his hand out towards the chick - like he would a cat before it smelled his hand - he heard someone's voice. Was he 'Lieutenant'? Shit, he was, probably. "Oh, uh-" he looked up at the Caitian. Did he know this person? If he did, and he didn't remember, that was Very Bad. But if he didn't, it was... fine? Fuck. He figured he'd keep going for now. "Hello." And then wait for them to say something back. That was how conversation worked. Surely.

He blinked, realizing that the guy knew absolutely nothing about him. Internally, he was screaming bloody murder at himself to stop staring in silence. “M’Rish.” He quickly got to his feet, “Um— Ensign M’Rish. My— my roommate told me about you. We haven’t been formally introduced, though.”

Shears remained on the ground with the targ, slobbering aggressively all over the place. She looked from one to the other. "I wasn't informed." She said, unhelpfully.

Allan nodded when the guy said his name and then something about his roommate. That sure narrowed it down! He knew so much of the station that his roommate could have been damn near anyone. So, it made sense to ask. "It's nice to meet you, M'Rish," he said, "who's your roommate..?" And then he looked to the very tall one who was also there, and he absolutely knew that was someone he had never met before. Because... holy shit. Okay, he was keeping his thoughts to himself on that.

“Ensign Castelo.” He said, “But— of course, he hasn’t told me everything, that’d be… weird. Anyways.” He took the voice in his mind’s advice to shut the hell up, and tried to change the subject. “Are you enjoying the festival so far?”

"Ohh, okay." That made a lot of sense. At the comment about it being weird, though, Allan shrugged. "Not that weird, actually." After all, he understood he was one of the most talked about people in this place - he was a pretty open book about everything, usually. It'd only been lately that he'd been more closed off. "I've been liking it, the... it's got a really nice vibe to it. Festive, as one would expect a festival to be, I suppose. You?"

“I’m a fan of the colours out here, although I haven’t been around here much other than the petting zoo.” He replied, side-eyeing the targ with a little bit of suspicion, “But yes! Absolutely festive.”

Shears kept the targ's attention as it wrestled with him on the ground, trying to get more out of the Insectoid. The officer hadn't really been listening to the other two's conversation, what with the targ bashing him. He didn't recognize this officer, though Shears usually didn't recognize much of anyone. She figured she would be addressed at some point, being the most skilled detective, after all. She grunted as the targ tried to bite her arm.

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The small Klingon chicken trotted up to Allan and pecked his shoes.

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"Yeah, the colors are really nice," Allan said, and it was obvious that he at least liked the color red if his sweater and hair were anything to go off of. "I was at the food carts earlier, got some funnel cake. Pretty good stuff, but, ah - went and walked around a lot at first with my partner," which, if M'Rish had been filled in on that aspect of Allan's life, could mean any one out of the three, really, "the pumpkin patch was pretty, from what I saw. And well, now I'm here," he said, and he attempted to gently tap the chick's head.

“That sounds wonderful, actually.” M’Rish smiled, “I’m glad you’re enjoying the festival. I think everyone needed something to celebrate.”

Shears stood up, looking to his friend. "What is the topic of celebration?"

The woman soon appeared, running to the area where they were. “Sorry chief, I had to find a place to dump my lemonade cup!” It was probably a good thing she had decided against getting food then. The animals would probably want it and fried goods and festival sweets weren’t exactly a healthy snack for them.

“I’m fairly sure it’s to celebrate the coming of autumn.” He turned to Shears, “You know— crops, falling leaves, hayrides.” The realization that he was speaking so plainly to a superior officer made him stand a bit straighter. Whether he was in uniform or not, he had some habits drilled into him. (edited)

"Nurse, you've stiffened." Shears remained in a casual posture. She let out a strange laugh at M'Rish. "Perhaps you are part-goat."

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Vara'l headed in then. He'd taken a moment and smoothed out his plain green shirt with it's simple pattern around the cuffs and collar as much as he could while he carried his son. As they headed in, his hair jewellery snug in his hair, he looked around and then paused before he said. "Telim, wanna get down and enjoy the animals?" When Telim indicated that yes, he did want that, Vara'l gently took them from his shoulders and settled them on their feet on the floor. "There you go." And ruffled his sons hair. "Enjoy."

Telim had nodded at the first question then grinned as he was picked up and then put down. He hugged his father when they ruffled his hair. Did so before he broke away, adjusted his headphones so they didn't fall off and then trotted over and wabed a bit at Allan. He then looked to the chicken and softly gasped in amazement. "..Woooahh."

"Oh, it's alright," Allan said in reply to Garcia, though... now he sort of wanted lemonade, too. "I think it's the coming of the fall season, yeah. Even though it's different everywhere, just the, uh- sorry. Yeah. You're right." When Telim came over and expressed his awe at seeing the chicken, he looked up at him, then back down to the chicken. "Pretty cute, right? It's... very small. Almost as small as the Bandititos, when they were born." The chick was just a little bigger, because well - the Klingon bird was huge.

The bird jumped a little when Allan tapped its head, looking up at him with beady eyes. It opened its mouth and BAK-ed at him again. (edited)

”It is adorable…. Well I guess most baby animals are? There is something about seeing even the most dangerous species so young and vulnerable, still learning how to act.” She smiled. “I gotta say, I get something similar looking at our ensigns!”

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Looking up at the mention of his rank, still dusty as all hells and fearful of a baby targ, M’Rish wasn’t entirely sure whether to laugh or run, but opted to chuckle, as he turned back to watch Shears face off with the hog-like creature.

"Yeah, I'm not sure I've ever seen a baby animal that isn't cute, you're right..." he looked at the chick again, and attempted to give it a little pet at the top of its head this time. "Can't say I get what you mean about the ensigns, though." Maybe it's because he was an ensign, like, so soon ago.

It flapped its wings and hopped. It did allow Allan to pet it, but it was very wiggly.

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”Oh it’s just the youthfulness. And I don’t even mean age… I mean most of the time it is age but it happens with older folks too.” She looked back at Allan and the chick. “When you are new and still learning how to act around with others at work… your coworkers, your new responsibilities, and just like this little chick ensigns tend to be a bit nervous and suspicious.” She recalled the many young cadets and fresh ensigns she had supervised during her postings on ships. “And… it’s nice to see them grow as officers. To see them get that confidence.”

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Shears turned to M'Rish, observing the smattering of unfamiliar officers. "Are you familiar with these people, Nurse?" (edited)

“Well— one of them, yes. Only by proxy, though.” He shrugged, “He’s an engineer. The other, I don’t think I’ve met her. You should introduce yourself, if you’re curious.”

"Understandable," Allan said in response to Garcia, but he was wondering just how he did understand. It was almost as if he felt like he was in both places at the same time, still - part of him still felt like he was still new and learning how to act, especially with his repsonsibilities as ACEO, but he also definitely knew what she meant about seeing the younger officers grow and get that confidence. A confidence he knew he had to work on getting back. "I get what you mean about seeing them grow, it's... it's really cool to see, actually. I've only been here a few years, but I've seen it with a lot of officers." Even cadets. Speaking of the youth... he looked back to the chick, and held out his palm close to the ground to see if it'd hop onto his hand. If it did, he'd offer it to Telim.

And hop it did, right into Allan’s hand! Its talons were a bit scratchier than a Terran chick’s but not so much that they’d hurt Allan or Telim.

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”Awnnn, they like you chief!” Garcia couldn’t help but nearly melt at the cuteness. She looked around them, trying to spot any other animal types they had.

"Clarification. One of them seems to like me," he said, watching it wander about in his hand. Curious. He looked around too, though he wanted to see baby targs when he'd first arrived he was unsure about that when he saw it biting that 6'8" Xindi Insectoid's arm.

There were more Terran and Klingon chicks scurrying about. There were some goats, a few baby cows, a miniature pony. And another fast-approaching baby targ with a stick in its snout, chomping away.

Shears pointed. The baby targ was still chomping and chuffing around his legs. He turned to M'Rish. "Nurse, look, a sibling."

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“Oh, shit—“ He scrambled to his feet, “Yeah, that’s… that’s another one.” This was definitely going to be a new fear in his future.

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Shears noticed the officer with the red hair glancing at the targ. "Hello, sir, there will be two of these here now, would you like one of them?" She gestured to the animal scrabbling at her feet.

After handing off the one baby chick to Telim if he'd wanted it, Allan attempted to pick up another one. Whether Terran or Klingon, he didn't mind. They were actually pretty cute - not that he'd ever consider having one himself, though. The cats would, unfortunately, not take kindly to it. He looked at the targs when the other pointed them out, and laughed nervously - the first time he'd laughed in front of the others, but not one that was delighted by any means. "I think I'm good..? It's.. nice to meet you, though...?" He said, trailing off with the question to hopefully get their name.

The targ with the stick circled the group in a slow trot, carrying its stick like a trophy. The trophy of a warrior.

"Yes." Shears said, not giving much room to continue the conversation casually.

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"...yes." Allan said in agreement, unfortunately not willing to exert more effort than usual in trying to get this person's name if they didn't want to share it. After all, he still hadn't said his own. He watched the targ circle around them instead. "It... seems to enjoy the stick."

Absolutely terrified, he watched the targ, giving it a thumbs-up from a safe few feet away.

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The targ snorted and snorfled and shook its head (and the stick) as it made a sharp turn and darted toward Garcia.

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"I want it to fight mine." Shears watched the targ run up to the engineer. "Neither of you are familiar with Nurse?" Shears asked

Garcia immediately noticed the small targ. “Ownnn…” It didn’t seem to approach her aggressively so she remained relaxed as the baby came closer. “What you got there?”

He accidentally backed into Shears, his strategy for avoiding the targs backfiring as he squeaked out something that sounded like “Theyaren’tfamiliarwithmecanweleaveplease”.

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Shears looked back at M'Rish, pressed into their back. "Oh, then we should be introduced." Shears said.

“…to the Targs?!” He exclaimed, tail whipping around his legs like a cornered cat (despite the fact that he was one).

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”Oh come on!” She looked at them both. “The little guys are adorable! They are just babies…” She gestured at the targ next to her that carried the stick proudly.

“They’re… certainly babies.” He tilted his head, They also have the capacity of rage of adults.”

"I think the capacity of rage is universal despite age in most species," Allan said, watching the targs that seemed pretty peaceful right now. "They seem calm right now. Or, well - not aggressive?"

"Yes it is simply hungry." She said, as the other targ scrabbled at her leg

“That’s… a good point, yeah.” His fur visibly lowered from where it had been standing on end, “They’re just babies. Not that scary. Definitely… not scary.”

Shears dug in a bag for a handful of feed for the hungry animals and leaned down to set it on the floor as it flew to stuff its cheeks. "They are very relatable animals."

His brows raised, but he opted to not comment. “Could I have a couple food pellet things?”

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Shears turned. He was confused, but he saw no reason not to oblige. Caitians were close relatives to many species for which these pellets were designed. He handed the nurse the bag, assuming he would be eating them. (edited)

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He accepted the bag, taking a few pebbles of food and crouching down to the Targ, reaching out to it while squeezing his eyes shut, bracing himself for the worst.

The targ with the stick dropped it and dashed to the food, gobbling pieces up off the ground. The other targ snorfled food slightly further away. Some sort of unspoken agreement to the other targ not to get too close while they were eating. Personal space awareness, if you will.

“Okay… glad you’re not hitting me.” He whispered, “Once you’re done, you can take your stick, and go about your business, if you’d like.”

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"Most babies are food motivated," Allan pointed out in response to Shears' earlier comment. "Kittens are the same way."

Telim, who'd accepted the offered baby chick with extreme care, was focused on it and ensuring it happened to be comfortable as he mouthed a. "Awwwww." And for a moment managed to forget everything that had happened recently as he just marvelled at it and how it looked. Gently attempted to pet its back

Vara'l had watched his son like a hawk but mostly remained silent as he just watched and listened to the people and animals around him. Watched until that Targ charge where he'd then slipped to one side of where Telim happened to be and had just ensured he'd not be disturbed by a suddenly appearing Targ.

The small Klingon chick made a guttural yet still cute peep noise and wobbled its head a minute, turning one beady eye to look at Telim. The targs snuffled around. A third targ appeared in the distance and started trotting directly for Allan.

Garcia kneeled down next to the targs when they were somewhat nearly finished with the food. She knew some animals could get aggressive if they felt like you were competition. To the nearest baby targ, she offered her hand slowly. “Hey there cutie, do you guys like pets? Or just food?”

He watched, preparing for the worst as the Lieutenant Commander managed to calmly handle the targ, without any issue. His eyes were wide in awe and fear, simultaneously.

Shears looked impressed at Garcia's friendly demeanor with the targs. "You are familiar with these creatures?" They asked.

Allan, who was still squatting down near the ground, watched the targ approach and just... copied what Garcia was doing. Seeing if it wanted pets or food or ... a stick, maybe. He searched the ground for one of those sticks the other targ seemed to love so much.

”Not really.” She looked back at Shears. “But most animals are pretty straightfoward: no sudden movements, low voice and no standing between them and their food. Basically show you are not a threat, you know?” She kept her hand out, letting the targ choose if it wanted the pet or not. “Oh and by the way, I’m Garcia. I don’t believe we introduced ourselves.” She said at Shears and M’Rish.

“Ensign M’Rish.” He said, his voice rushed as he watched her, “You’re… very good with them. Even if it’s straightforward.”

"I am Shears." the Insectoid officer added to M'Rish's introduction.

She smiled. “Oh! A fellow officer, I’m also Starfleet, Lieutenant Commander. What division are you in?” Since Shears did not say their rank, this question was aimed at M’Rish. (edited)

“Medical. I’m— I’m a nurse. Mostly.” He replied, ears swivelling towards her, “And you? What’s your division?”

Shears. Okay, that was that officer's name. And... oh, that was why Shears called M'Rish nurse. Allan shared none of these thoughts, though, instead too focused on the targ, which he was unsure of just how to pet. He was used to petting dogs and cats and dog-like creatures and cat-like creatures and he wasn't sure what targ fell into.

You CAN pet dat dawg, Garcia and Allan. The targ nearest Garcia snorted and raised its head to touch Garcia's palm. It nuzzled into her, a big slobber dripping from its mouth. It looked up at her with huge eyes. The targ Allan offered a stick to approached and chomped its big mouth around the stick and PULLED. Tug of war, anybody?

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“I’m with engineering!” She answered the other and then felt the targ touching her hand. ”Oh aren’t you all just adorable.” It was just like Garcia was talking to a baby as she scratched between its small ears. The fur was dense and quite rough, but not uncomfortable to pet. “Hah! Looks like you got yourself a challenge chief!” (edited)

Shears' rambunctious little targ was still happily dividing his attention as Shears leaned down to touch before it whinnied and he ignored it again. "I believe they do not like being raised up."

Allan laughed, actually, for the first time here genuinely - tugging at the stick when the targ pulled. "Oh, yeah," he said, tugging back in one direction to the side, "it's okay, I'm used to this, Hamlet was very insistent on his tug-of-war competitions."

Shears' targ squealed at them, staring at them unblinkingly. If only targ could transmit mental images. Garcia's targ's butt began to wiggle and its tail waggled. It snorted and rubbed her hand a little bit before dropping its head again and searching for more seeds with its sniffer. Allan's targ yanked at the stick. Almost as if it was saying 'MY STICK' but, in targ. YOINK!

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Shears turned to M'Rish, next to them. "Nurse, I think you should also attempt to take the hsiry thing's stick."

“I— sorry, what?!” He exclaimed, folding his hands under his arms, “I’ll lose a hand! I’m not doing that!”

2

So it was like a dog! He yanked it back, and then stood up so he could start tugging it in different directions, seeing if the targ would enjoy that.

Shears looked around the seasonal decorations, eventually raising a stick. He bent down to the level of the targ that had followed him. "Take this." They said, holding the stick out to it, hoping to begin two simultaneous matches of tug o'war.

The wiggling and waggled was all Garcia needed to know. Should she get a targ? Maybe a mini-targ if that was a thing? She laughed at the idea. She laughed even more seeing Allan get serious in his battle with the second pup. “Get him chief!”

1

Shears' targ bolted for the stick they were holding and chomped down and pulled. MORE tug of war engaged! Allan's dog, I mean targ, held on tightly to the stick. Once it got its bearings back, it reared its head and its little feet hopped into the air too as it threw itself backwards in an attempt to pull Allan forward. Garcia's targ continued to enjoy the pets. Perhaps she could talk to the person who ran the petting zoo and see about if this mini targ could find a special place to lay its head at night...

Telim looked down at the chick as it looked up at him and very very carefully continued to pet it! As he did so he softly hummed. "..Nice chick.." As he carefully maintained his gentle hold of it and marvelled at how it looked and how the eye that gazed at him once. "I must look maaasive to youu.."

Vara'l watched all that was happening at the moment as Telim marvelled over the chick. He remained mostly silent, focused on Telim but smoothly and in that silence retrieved some seed from nearby and settled onto his haunches near his son. Did so as he looked up and over to Allan and chuckled a bit. "Ayee.. get him." He hummed then before he looked to his son and signed one handed. "Think he might like some seed?" He then gently guided his son in taking the seed from his hand while he also ensured the hold on the chick was secure but happened to not be too tight. Once Telim had the seed in their free hand, Vara'l nodded a bit. "Shall we see the chick is interested?" He asked then before he watched his son offer the hand full of seed to the chick..

Shears turned to his friend, a slobbery stick in hand. "If you do not want to engage the big nose animal in combat, perhaps you could interact with it in another way?"

“…yeah— okay.” He whispered, accepting the stick with the most caution he could. He knelt down, extending the stick and hoping he didn’t lose a hand in the process.

Lil targ took the stick and made happy piglike noises - squeals and snurfles.

“You’re… not that scary, huh?” He murmured, watching it take the stick, “Just a little high-energy. I get that.”

"It likes your gift." Shears commented

He blinked, a bit taken aback by the statement. He hadn’t really thought of it as a gift, more as a peace offering. Something that would act as a replacement for his fingers, if the youngling needed something to gnaw on. “I suppose it does.”

Shears twitched their antennae. The targ seemed satisfied, and Shears recognized a sense of contentment in M'Rish's face. "I should look at another animal." They proclaimed. "Nurse, what else have you seen?"

“There’s a good amount of young mammals— I saw some cubs of various genera, and I fed a chick. I’m pretty sure it was a chicken.” He replied, “Is there anything you’re looking to meet?”

Shears' antennae shot up, whipping it's head to look down at his long-eared friend. "Did you say chicken?"

“Yeah! They’re sweet little things, I wonder where it went.” He stood up, looking around for any sign of the previously mentioned bird.

”Oh now I just have the urge to take you home with me.” She said loudly to the small targ. “Would it even be acceptable? Where did they get yall… where are you going to after here?” Of course, the targ would not answer.

Shears began absentmindedly wandering about, picking up boxes and looking under for those illustrious, red-crested bird

“Oh— okay, we’re looking for it now.” He commented, “That’s cool.” He followed Shears, eyes on the ground for the sight of the young chick. It couldn’t’ve gotten far, not with its tiny legs.