Lower Decks: Tales From The Creche

Chapter 6
Facing the music II: Brahms Lullaby.

Chapter Description: Mariner and her mother become further apart.

“Wish granted!” said Genie from inside Beckett Mariner’s comm badge. The entity had hitched a ride by first entering Boimler’s comm badge and then swapping itself again with Beckett’s. In the process, it bypassed the security measures that would have detected it without so much as a blip on the backside of a quark.

Mariner, still in shock from her mother’s revelation, took a few scant seconds to react to the voice and recognize it. Her mother, Carol Freeman, sensed danger and willed herself to put aside her sadness and focus on finding what danger to neutralize. She would have been hard pressed to do so as the danger passed in a few scant seconds.

She watched Beckett physically regress from a grown woman in her twenties to a child of six. Beckett’s clothing changed with her into a play shirt that resembled something an ensign might wear and her pants morphed into a heavily absorbent pull-up.

As for herself, she physically lost twenty of the hardest years and possibly the most rewarding. A young woman of 26, in top physical form and health, now stood where an older, more mature, and properly seasoned one had been.

At first, she found herself elated at being young again. She went to look at herself in her vanity mirror on her wall of collections and then stopped as she realized that her rejuvenation had come at a cost. Her regressed daughter was now aged six and looking around at the room with the eyes of a curious child.

“Are you okay, Beckett?” she asked her gently. Best practice dictated not to flood her with a lot of questions, she probably had enough of her own. Beckett marveled at the captain’s quarters from a viewpoint that she hadn’t seen in twenty years. At age 6, she barely made the bottom thirty percentile for her age group. At a height of 1.1 meters or 43 inches for the imperial crowd, looking at a room made for people over five feet in height at a minimum amazed her. She looked at the chair she’d just been sitting in at her adult height. She turned around and hopped up backward to sit in it. As she assimilated her new perspective on the world, she swung her dangling legs back and forth. She figured her legs must be the equivalent of a cat that moves its tail back and forth. “Beckett, are you okay, Honey?” Carol asked. Since Beckett hadn’t started screaming at the top of her lungs, Carol knew that her daughter would be out for a while and patiently waited for her to finish her mental adjustment.

Beckett got tired of swinging her legs. She remembered that young children found it hard to keep still and she’d been no exception. She bounced out of the chair with a little hop to the floor and then remembered something else about herself at age six.

She gave Genie mad kudos for finding her a pull-up that had been her favorite when her underdeveloped bladder gave her fits and starts. She realized that she hadn’t stopped wearing them until age nine. By then all her plumbing had worked itself out. At least until puberty…

She patted the soft fluffy material and felt a small glimmer of excitement at feeling the softness of her “Mission Briefs” as they caressed her skin. They were called Mission Briefs as part of an advertising campaign to convince parents to use Starfleet as a shining example and role model for their kids. And what better way than to use their juvenile products to do so?

“To Boldly Go” decorated the top of her pull-up. A simply drawn yellow Warp signature that turned blue when it got wet adorned the bottom.

At first, Beckett wanted to grow back up immediately, but after some consideration, she selfishly wanted to stay a child for a little longer.

“Hello, mother!” she said cheerfully after coming out of her reverie. She’d adapted to her surroundings as per protocol and now needed to perform a “Mission Brief”. She chuckled to herself before her sensitive bladder took advantage of her lack of focus and tinkled in her pull-up.

She stood still and hoped that it wouldn’t take long. If she tried any sudden moves, she could end up leaking or worse. With a burning red face, she finished her toilet while standing in front of her mother.

“Um, mom? Remember how I had bladder problems at this age? I think we need to secure a fresh package of Mission Briefs."

Her mother had other concerns that were starting to eat away at her patience. "Ah, Beckett! Nice to have you back. Has the regression affected your mind? Are you twenty-six or are you six, mentally?

“I’d say I’m the same age as when I woke up this morning. I couldn’t do tensor physics at this age and I’m finding it easy enough to do it the same as I did yesterday.”

“Good, good!” said her mother. Her daughter’s nervous energy must be rubbing off on her, all she wanted to do at this point involved heavy drinking and a little something else. She smiled briefly before snapping back into focus and said, "Maybe later," as she tamped down her newly reawakened libido. Damn, It felt like being unable to scratch an itch in a tender location!

“So, as I probably told you many times in the past, ‘Actions have consequences. You not being frank about whatever Genie is has landed you back in diapers-”

“They’re not diapers, they’re pull-ups!” objected Beckett. Her face burned with fresh embarrassment as she realized that she’d just used one unintentionally as a diaper. "And what do you mean by 'probably'? Did you forget?"Beckett hoped that her mother forgetting her last twenty years hadn't happened, but it was a possibility.

Carol felt the need to blow off some steam, she did her best to marshal her patience and present the appearance of a seasoned commander, but something inside her demanded she go party and get some.

“Whatever!” she finally said. “If you can take care of yourself, do so. If you can’t then report to the nursery where I’m sure you’ll find a sympathetic ear or two. Dismissed!”

Not waiting around and eager to get something to drink, Carol Freeman nearly ran out of her office and ignored her assistant as he walked towards her with an armful of comm pads. “I’ll do it later!” she yelled as she entered the turbo-lift and requested it drop her off at ten forward.

This left Beckett to peer after her mother as she made a beeline for her selfish pleasure. She stood in the door of the captain’s office, smelling faintly of pee and feeling anew the pain of her parents ignoring her to fight amongst themselves over mundane everyday trifles.

A great burst of emotion welled up in her. Children, it’s said don’t hold back their feelings. If they’re upset, they wear it on their sleeve and if they feel they’ve been wronged, they usually go on a crying jag until someone older asks them what’s wrong.

They usually continue crying until they’re certain the older person is sincere.

Beckett felt the hot tears as they rolled down her cheeks. She gathered up her spirit and banished the unneeded emotions with a resolution to correct her situation. That’s what adults did!

After about fifteen more minutes and a small mountain of replicated facial tissue, she went to do just that.

After having the replicator pop out a fresh “Mission Brief” and some wipes, she went to the lavatory and did her business. Since the only pants she wore were pull-ups, cleaning up proved extremely easy. She then went to tackle another problem caused by her reduced stature: Her bunk assignment.

The lemon-faced person at personnel wasn’t much help, “Okay, so you’re physically six years old and now you need to get a bunk that allows for your height. Get a medical waiver first and then we’ll talk! Next!”

Beckett didn’t want to go to Doctor T’Ana. The feline had a no-nonsense way of getting straight to the heart of the problem with no holds barred on the patient’s ego or psyche. She looked at her options and realized that she should probably go to the nursery after all.

On the way there, she said, “I wish I had a nice room for myself! Then I wouldn’t have to go through all this hassle.”

The only thing that didn’t change during her transition from age twenty-six to age six was her comm badge. It chirped and Genie asked, “Single-bed or Queen? Is there a particular motif you have in mind?”

“Genie! I’d forgotten all about you! Can you return me to my original age?”

“You can wish for it, but since your mother’s wish is for you and her to be twenty years younger, you’re stuck until she changes her mind.”

“Well, that sucks! I guess I’ll take that room, then.”

“You have but to tell me where to put it. It’s bigger on the inside and all that. So you’ll need a space no bigger than a standard door to access it.”

“Okay, we’re off to the storage bay! There’s plenty of room there for a standard door that no one would ever notice.”

“I like you, Beckett! Even when the chips are down, you’re a plucky one,” chuckled Genie.

End Chapter six.