Romulettes and Puppies
Posted on Wed Nov 29th, 2023 @ 12:14pm by Lieutenant Gunnar Arnason
1,605 words; about a 8 minute read
Mission:
What Lies Ahead, Between, and Behind
Location: Outpost 112, Dr. Divash's quarters
Timeline: early morning, several years ago
Divash returned to the room with coffee and tea. Normally, Gunnar brought her breakfast, but with all the refugees crowded into the Outpost, including her friend Kali's family stuffed into her outer rooms, there was little available now but ration bars. Besides, he still had one arm in sling and this way he'd spend more time filling out 'paperwork' so she didn't have to. The Orion shook her head - if people knew how much of the time they spent in here involved doing paperwork rather infinitely more enjoyable pursuits...
Reaching the relatively uncrowded sanctuary of her bedroom, she found him sitting where she'd left him, propped up in bed. However, now he was smiling at something on his PaDD - an expression not likely if he was still going over medbay reports and resource planning forms.
"I hope that smile means we've reached the end of the paperwork," she said, coming over and offering him a cup.
"Not quite. Just taking a break to look at a message from home." Taking the coffee, he handed her the PaDD, which displayed a picture of four little puffballs with shiny eyes and pink noses.
"Aww. Very cute."
"Thank you," Gunnar replied with proud smile. "They're my grandkids."
Divash's brows shot up. Goddess knew his interest in the opposite sex was not limited to humanoids, but still... She looked back at the picture. A lot of the puffy fur was blonde or reddish-gold and some caninoid species reached breeding age by 3 or 4 standard years, and while most humans and caninoids couldn't reproduce, it wasn't entirely impossible...
"They're hybrids?"
Gunnar set his coffee aside and smiled - it was so rare for him to even begin to put something over on her. "Yes." But seeing her eyes go wide, he cracked up, losing any hope of continuing the joke. "They're Icelandic Sheepdog/Greenland Dog mixes."
"Grandkids!" She grabbed a pillow and whapped him with it. "When did you learn how to lie?"
"Hey! It's the truth," he objected, albeit with a grin. "I raised their mother from a newborn pup - fed her with a bottle and everything."
Divash laughed. "So, you're their grandmother."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Believe it or not, most human men help with children, including bottle feeding."
She puffed a breath. "Oh, I know." Her mouth went a little sideways. "It's just so... strange."
Reclaiming his coffee, Gunnar took a sip to hide a laugh - Divash did pretty well accepting the norms of other races, but there were some spheres so exclusive to women in her culture that she struggled a little with the idea of men, of any species, occupying them. "Different cultural expectations." He shrugged, then pointed back at the PaDD, changing the topic. "If you close the picture, you'll find the paperwork just needs a check over and your signature."
With a tap she transferred the files to her PaDD. "I'll work on that while you get dressed," she said, and laughed at the clearly disappointed look on his face. "The girls were listening at the door when I came in. I don't have any objection to educating them, but..."
"We could shower together," he suggested with a hopeful smile.
"Mmm...I like the way you think. But I need to finish this first and review T'Ango's file," she gave him a knowing smile, "which I'm sure you've already done." Helping him on with his shirt and slipping the sling back in place, she handed back the PaDD. "So go distract the kids before they get bored listening and decide to take more things apart out there."
Resigned, Gunnar scooped up the rest of his clothes - moving in so other refugees could take his quarters was proving somewhat less idyllic than originally imagined. But Divash had a point. The two oldest Romulettes had disassembled nearly everything they could get their hands on so far. So after dressing quickly, he stepped into the shared living space.
Of the three little girls, all were clearly trying to look as if they hadn't been listening at the door. Only one, however - Devora, seemingly absorbed in reading nearby - was truly succeeding ...and little Raikael downright ruined the effect with her next words.
"Wanna see puppies!"
Stifling a laugh, Gunnar smiled. "Come on over to the couch, I'll show you."
Taking a seat on the couch, hr opened the pictures on his PaDD as the girls eagerly closed in around him, although being somewhat careful of his arm. Divash had apparently warned that treats from would not be passed on if they damaged the work that she'd done on that.
"I want one!!!" Devora exclaimed at the first glimpse of the downy balls of fluff.
"I don't blame you," he half-sighed. "I wish I could have one here too. But they need to stay with their mother until they're weaned."
Seemingly considering this, Ieliene's little head cocked slightly to one side. "She could come too."
If only... He shook head. "She's happy on my parents' farm. It's good place for her and she's spent most of her life there." He suppressed a sigh. "She's getting old - this may be her last litter."
"Mommy said the same thing once," Ieliene piped in. " 'bout Raikael."
Arnason suppressed a chuckle. Leika is a lot older for a dog than Aliereth is for a Romulan, but I see her point. "Well, you never know, but Leika's had 4 litters now - 17 puppies in all - I think she'll be ready for a rest."
"Rest is boring," the child stated as though quoting indisputable truth.
"From what I understand, it's not for mothers." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "In fact, they often even look forward to it."
"Yeah, well; adults are boring, too." Devora stopped, suddenly reconsidering the statement and looked at Gunnar, realizing she had just insulted the enemy to their face.
"Sometimes I'm sure we can be," he laughed. "Would you consider it boring if I asked you to help me choose names for them?"
Wide grins broke out on all three small faces, followed almost instantly by an overlapping cacophony of conversation in their native tongue, perhaps debating possible monikers for the small dogs that would be neigh-unpronounceable by most of humanity.
As if reading their minds, Gunnar made a time out gesture. "Keep in mind it has to be something I can pronounce, so I can tell it to my parents. Also, if it helps," he pointed to one with a reddish patch over both ears, "this is the only boy."
"That on' is Lily," little Raikael pronounced, pointing at one of the puppies on the screen.
Arnason tipped head, then nodded. "Yes, I can see that. She looks like a Lily." The name even sounds close to its translation, Lilja.
Not be left out, Devora quickly pointed at another one of the puppies. "I wanna call that one Karina." She paused thoughtfully. "Can humans pronounce that?"
"Karina," he demonstrated with a smile, adding a little extra roll on the r that made it a bit closer to the Scandinavian version of the name. "Good enough?"
Ieliene nodded. "Not bad." She stared intently at the boy puppy with the red-orange spots. "We should name that one Bugs," she said, laughing at her own joke, "...'cause he looks like he's got carrots."
"After a rabbit?" Gunnar laughed. "Don't you think the other dogs would tease him?"
"Maybe it would help him blend in with them, so he could catch 'em better?" she suggested. "Or you could call him Sparky! That's a dog name - there was a dog with that name in a book I read once"
"Sparky is an excellent name," he agreed. "Especially for a dog born not that far from a volcano." And if he turns out with his sire's steady, easy temperament, we can always change it to Spakur.
"We need to name the last one Snowflake," Devora said, and raised a petite eyebrow. "There's a lot of snow there, right?"
"Yes, especially during the winter." By way of confirmation, he tapped the PaDD, bringing up a picture of home in winter with deep snow all around. "She'll have a lot of opportunities to play with other snowflakes."
"I like snow," Raikael declared, then frowned. "Mommy won't let us out in it wi'out lots of coats."
He was slightly surprised that a Romulan child, with the species' preference for heat, liked snow - but then children were children and snow was fun. "You know, my mother was the same way. In fact, when I was a little older than you, she had dog, Tryggur, whose main job was to run after me and bring me back if I went out without dressing warmly enough. Or just stayed out too long."
Divash had slipped up behind them, having finished her part of the paperwork and come out to check the situation. Gunnar was good with kids, but these kids were a handful and right now he only had one hand. However, it looked like he had them eating out of it. In fact, he was wearing a boyish grin that almost made him look like an oversized kid himself - a far cry from the man she kept having to remind that he's on restricted duty.
She dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe I should get one to keep you from working too long?"
He looked up with a smile. "Only if I can train it to do the same with you."
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