Getting the Band Together Part II
Posted on Wed Jan 21st, 2026 @ 5:33am by Ensign Millicent Ambrose & Petty Officer 1st Class Kaylara Loran & 2nd Lieutenant Diska Wooz & Sergeant Adélaïde Moreau & Sergeant Tyrigus Fry
Edited on on Wed Jan 21st, 2026 @ 7:25am
3,026 words; about a 15 minute read
Mission:
Episode 17 - Going Home
Location: Moghbeli Depot, Sea of Tranquility. Luna.
Timeline: MD025 1200 hrs
Mayfield stood and shook hands with Tesha, grinning, “Don’t think twice, Tesh. You weren’t wrong when you said Tremble and Malbrooke attract troubler, though I think it’s more that they go looking for it. Better safe than sorry and it’s a good exercise. That M-Mobile company is in the training tanks right now. The drop ship is going through a pre-flight and we’ll have the near-Earth Combat Air Patrol ready to roll in as well. All commands have been notified and I think we’re ready for just about anything. How about lunch tomorrow? We can call it a working lunch on Earth if you have the time. The Commandant’s mess serves excellent food.”
Tesh made a mental note and said, “Sure Elly. I’ll be in-system for a few days yet, so let’s do that.
Tyr had been on Luna, taking advantage of a twenty four hour pass when Lieutenant Wooz had reached out and ordered him to prepare to provide VIP protection in the form of an (under) cover band at the Commodore’s barbecue.
Post haste.
The LT had stated she could and would play the drums, but Tyr needed to organize other band mates from within the Cure or the Pioneer’s Security contingent (preferably), though they could pull in other Marines as needed, to form up the rest of the fire team. He also needed to organize stage equipment and a play list that was Western. Country. And derivatives there-of, from Earth that would go along with the Commodore’s theme. And for right now, the Command Team of the Pioneer didn’t have the need to know that security was being provided.
His head was already hurting.
He’d finished his drink. Messaged Adelaide and let Millie know their plans for an evening out had been rudely disrupted. Tyr then had had another drink and began messaging people he knew within the FMC’s musical talent to start putting together the instruments, stage and a small lighting kit as well as a playlist.
Tyr had gotten the LT to requisition a small cargo bay where he and a few off-duty marines had put together a small stage, rigged the lights and cage to the platform and assembled the drum kit, sound mixing board that was built into the cage uprights along with speakers. Within the decking of the stage itself, concealed were hand phasers, phaser rifles and body armor enough for the fire-team and all of the party attendees, as well a portable shield projector that could deploy a shield ten meters around the stage.
Tyr was on the stage, mixing the sound for the small cargo bay with most of it going through is earpiece now, acoustic guitar in, hand as he worked through You’re the Reason God Made Oklahoma He’d requisitioned blue jeans, a red-checkered western style shirt, white felt hat and a ridiculous paisley blue bandana that was tied around his neck that he hoped would help if/when he started sweating. The boots he’d replicated pinched at his toe slightly, and the leather belt was closed by a seemingly too-large oval belt buckle that had crossed black and white guitars.
He felt ridiculous.
Most of the music from his guitar and the backup was running through his earpiece, though some of it leaked out into the small cargo bay, bouncing off the wall as he watched the prompter and half sang the song’s lyrics. He was trying to keep himself too busy to worry about screwing this up.
So far.
Kaylara walked in, dressed in black leather pants, a sparkly silver Western-style shirt tied at her waist and a bandana tied around her head with a snake that said bite me. Slung over her back and shoulder was an electric guitar. "Hi," she said when she walked up to Tyr. "I hear you're getting a Country-Western band together."
Tyr let the song trail off, even though his fingers continued to work over the fret and strings. "That is the rumor," he said, smiling. "Kaylara, right? I know I've seen you around Elevensies. I take it you want in on the gig?"
"Yeah, if you think I'll fit in." She grinned, knowing she didn't tend to fit in anywhere.
Tyr beckoned her to join him up on the stage and said, "Ok. Let’s give it a go. Should be a few others joining in but we can start and see where we're at. There are holo-prompters for the lyrics and suggested music for instruments as they enter the stage area. Ear pieces and throat mics are on the table over there if you don't have embedded com's we can tap into. " He began playing a western riff, sub-vocalizing, a selection to play Kid Rock's, All Summer Long, working through the guitar solo opener and encouraging Kaylara to join in.
She paused first to grab what she didn't have, then stepped onto the stage and swung her guitar around to the front and connected to the sound system. Then she looked over the music, nodding as she listened to Tyr. "I'll take second and backup vocals on the chorus. I can also play drums, if you need me to." With that, she began to finger the chord progressions and look over the chorus.
The door opened into the cargo hold with a mechanical hiss, revealing Millie. She was wearing a black tank top, blue jeans with black knee high pull on boots which had white embroidered feathered pattern. Around her waist was a black leather belt with a silver buckle with a gold longhorn image.
Upon her head was a black hat with a hatband made of braided leather added with some silver trim. Walking up to the stage. Millie gave a smile towards Tyr, "Hi Tyr." then she noticed a woman there she'd not met before. "Hi there, I'm Millie." holding out her hand towards Kaylara.
"Kaylara," the half-Romulan replied, shaking her hand. "You're in engineering, right? I've seen you around."
The cargo bay doors slid open again, more quietly this time.
Adélaïde stepped inside, pausing just long enough to take in the scene: the improvised stage, the lights, the cables, Tyr mid-riff, Kaylara settling into place, Millie already at ease as if this were a perfectly normal way to spend a day off. She’d changed out of duty uniform into something practical but unobtrusive—dark trousers, boots, a plain top with sleeves rolled just far enough to suggest she hadn’t overthought it.
Her gaze moved instinctively to the equipment.
She didn’t comment on the weapons concealed beneath the stage. She didn’t comment on the lighting rig, or the shield projector, or the fact that this was very clearly not just a band rehearsal. She simply walked closer, eyes settling on the keyboard station set slightly off to one side.
“Hi,” she said, pitching her voice to Tyr first, then the others, calm and even. “I got your message.”
She rested a hand lightly on the edge of the keyboard stand, not plugging in yet, not drawing attention to herself. “I can cover keys if you still need them. Piano, mostly,” she added, almost as an afterthought. “I’m fine following the prompter.”
Only then did she glance up, a faint, polite smile touching her expression. “Country’s not a problem.”
It wasn’t said with confidence. It wasn’t said with pride.
It was simply stated as fact.
Tyr put his guitar into its stand and glanced around the assembled musicians, processing, what he'd learned about this style and form of music. As he contemplated what was essentially going to be a pick-up jam session, he heard the chamber's lock cycle again.
Diska bustled in, taking in the space, gear and crew that had answered the call. Nodding to herself, her left hand spinning drumsticks she stepped up onto the stage and said, "Thanks for showing up, everyone. For those that don't know me, I'm the newest addition to the Cure. First Lieutenant Diska Wooz. You can all call me Diska or Wooz as you like," the Romulan stated. She'd had the computer take in her personality and filter through requirements for a female musician clothing options for the Country/Western genre in a thirty year span from the late twentieth to early twenty-first centuries on Earth.
She'd been given distressed denim jeans. Flat heeled, grey and white boots replicated to match the skin of some flightless bird that had been native to Earth and a gold t-shirt with what the computer had told her was Equus caballus, or horse, and rider turning sharply near a wooden barrel. The rider had a hat, which Diska had opted not to wear, preferring her standard pageboy cut. She'd liked the caption though, which read Go Fast. Don't Die., which DID fit her personality.
Diska she barely tolerated marine beret's because she HAD to wear them.
She was still on the fence about jewelry.
"Tyr, where are we at with instruments and vocals," Diska asked.
Glancing about, Tyr answered, "With you here, LT, we've got drums covered. Adelaide's on keyboard. Petty Officer First Loran, volunteered for backup-guitars and vocals. Ensign Ambrose on Vocals and possibly guitar if she's feeling funky." Tyr spared a wink toward Millie. "I can do guitars, though after looking at the genre...well. I can maybe do the violin or fiddle. It's kind of a standard. I can still help with vocals. What about it Kaylara and Millie. Feel up to doing lead and second guitar if I fumble with the fiddle?"
"Sure." Kaylara wasn't as good as some in intel, but she could hold her own. "I'm an alto with extensions." She shrugged. "I've the range for most country, so I'm good with either lead or harmony."
She looked at Millie. "What about you?"
Adélaïde had drifted toward the keyboard without really thinking about it, perching on the edge of the bench while the others talked things through. She listened more than she looked, eyes flicking between Tyr, Diska, and the two guitars as roles shook out.
When Kaylara asked Millie about vocals, Adélaïde glanced up.
“I can sing too,” she said, not loud enough to interrupt, just enough to be heard. “If you need another voice.”
A small shrug followed, like she wasn’t particularly attached to the idea either way.
“Harmony’s easiest, but I’m fine taking lead if it helps.” She tapped the edge of the keyboard with two fingers. “If not that's fine too.”
Then she looked back down, already reaching to power the keys on, like the matter was settled and didn’t need more ceremony than that.
"We can all take turns, depending on the song," Kaylara said. "I'm sure if we practice, we'll get familiar enough with each other to work things out."
Millie looked at both Kaylara and Adelaide giving a bit of a smile. "I'm a soprano but I do have range for harmonizing and alto. I do agree with Kaylara that we take turns on singing lead. I like it better when everyone has their turn in the spotlight. No one should truly be shoved into the background while only one takes the front stage always."
Still spinning an ebony drumstick, Wooz listened to the assembled personnel first, then said, "Ok. Everybody on vocals. Try, get us all fitted for throat mics. Walk us through the stage setup?"
Diska walked back to the drum set and began adjusting the seat before she worked over the set itself.
Tyr cleared his throat and said, "Yeah. Ok. There's a box on the table near the doughnuts," he said gesturing to where a replicator station had been set up. He'd added a table and brought in fresh pastries from the station's galley. "That's got micro-dot throat pickups. Just stick them on your skin and they'll upload and tie into the stage's network. Likewise for the ear-wicks if you don't have an imbedded com." He'd already put a purple dot on his throat. It was small, but the color stuck out.
Walking to one side, he picked a fiddle out of a case and began trying to tune it, fumbling slightly as he tried to remember. "Party favors are hard built into the stage," Tyr said. At the words Party Favors three compartments lit up with a dull red. "Voice locked to all of our prints. If anyone attacks, there are weapons armor and a direct comm's set to the QRF that's orbiting. And a shield generator that will deploy ten meters around the stage."
Having adjusted the seat quickly enough, Diska had bent to adjust a foot pedal (there were two) on the drum set and looked up. "Right. About that. We might get beam ins before, but we'll be expected to hold any attackers for three minutes. There's a diagram of the Malbrooke ranch..." As she spoke, a lighted diagram appeared on the sidewall nearest the replicator. "Primary duty is to get everyone to cover, then sit tight. And TRY to rein the department heads from doing dumb things."
Satisfied with her pedals, she began adjusting the top-hats and looked at the other musicians. "Oh. And I'm a mezzo-soprano...kinda. But I'm good with sticking and backups."
Tyr winced as a squeak came from his fiddle and he shook his head. "The projectors will help with lyrics...and the computer will mix the sound automatically toward genre. Mistakes are ours though...so I'm going to likely cut this thing in half with all the sawing," he laughed at himself.
Diska nodded, not joining in with the banter. There was too much to do, "Alright," she said. "Let's get warmed up and then work through a couple of songs. The party is imminent and I'll want a playlist. All of you work together on that. Playing something at least some of us recognize and can take the lead on will help."
After a few beats she said, "I know it's a lot. But that's what we've got. Questions or comments?"
Wait-what? went through Millie's mind, prepping for a possible attack at the Commodore's BBQ? Her eyes went to those there, she wasn't going to back out of playing in the band.
And in case that happened, Millie wasn't going to be doing any heroics by getting in the way of the marines doing their job. She didn't want to be a distraction and being the cause of a marine being killed or wounded, their attention being divided.
When Diska asked her questions, Millie raised her hand up. "not that I have any questions but I can say that the unspoken order is, in case of trouble, those who are not battle trained get out of the way and keep your heads down."
Kaylara tried and failed to hide a predatory grin. "I'm no Marine, but I know how to fight--and how to keep out of the way. Does this mean we can use sound as a weapon?" She played a guitar riff that turned into an arpeggio and ended in a high-pitched scream. The volume wasn't loud enough to cause any problems, but the idea of being able to use their instruments intrigued her. But it would take some research and more time than they had right now. "And no, I'm not going to bash anyone over the head with this. Lizzie's been with me too long to break her over some baddie."
Adélaïde watched the exchange quietly, one hand already peeling the backing off a throat mic. She stuck it just below her collarbone, fingers lingering a second to make sure it held, then glanced up at the lit compartments in the stage with a look that said she’d already catalogued them.
“Sound’s a weapon either way,” she said, mild, almost conversational. “Best case, it keeps people calm. Worst case, it gives us cover.”
She gave Kaylara a small look, not disapproving, just practical. “Timing’ll matter more than volume.”
Then she settled back at the keyboard, rolling her shoulders once like she was loosening up before a run, hands hovering over the keys but not touching them yet.
Kaylara nodded. Understanding what she meant.
Diska watched as the assembled members moved into spots on the stage and she ordered up a simple selection, picked by the computer for them to get started and called out as one popped up on the selectors. "Ok people. I'm engaging the holo-prompters for the music and lyrics to...." the Romulan squinted for a moment as idly pushed back her bangs and said, "Something called Baby Likes to Rock It.
The music began to play with the lyrics lighting up the viewer. Millie settled into singing, she was astonished and amazed in meeting others who were musically inclined. She grinned just flowing with the music and the vibe of those there.
A Joint Post By
Sergeant Tyrigus Fry
Rifleman, Team 1, The Cure
USS Pioneer
Second Lieutenant Diska Wooz
Company Executive Officer, The Cure
USS Pioneer
Ensign Millicent Ambrose
Engineering Officer, USS Pioneer
Sergeant Adélaïde Moreau
SAR Specialist, Team 2, The Cure
USS Pioneer
Petty Officer First Class Kaylara Loran
Data Systems Analyst, USS Pioneer
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