A slender, middle-aged man lounged in an large, comfortable looking chair. He seemed to be absorbed in the newspaper spread across his lap. Another man, larger, perhaps older, was preparing a kettle of tea across the room. After a moment, the sitting man spoke.
"Incredible... Hatson, come hear for a moment."
"What is, Wholmes?"
"I've just been doing some reading on my favorite newspaper column."
"Oh, you mean that 'Math-Weavers' thing?"
"Precisely, Hatson. Have a look here." The health inspector pointed to a small column of text near the bottom of the page.
"'And thus did Sir Cumference smite the dragon of Pi and save the land of Radiu--' Wholmes, what exactly is this?"
"It's a mathematical analogy, of course. It's an amusing little story that also gives the basics of solving algebraic operations with circles. It's rather fascinating, wouldn't you agree?"
"Well, the whole business seems a bit cooky to me," chimed in a new voice.

The two men turned round as their housekeeper, Mrs. Knudson, entered the room, carrying a basket of laundry

"Why, Mrs. Knudson," Wholmes exclaimed. "I don't believe I heard you enter. Are you saying that you don't appreciate the intricacies of mathematical education?"
"Or education in general, Mr. Wholmes. I was never a schoolgirl meself, and I've never needed any fancy words to do me job. Cooking and cleaning, that's all I know, and it's all I needs to know."
Hatson shook his head. "You can't argue with her there, Wholmes. Most people don't have any need of these 'circular operands,' or whatever it is you call them."
"Operations, my good Hatson," Wholmes responded, with a note of mild irritation in his voice. He sighed. "Ah, well. Perhaps there will come a day when everyone in the world will have a true appreciation for the science of mathematics. Why, just think, if the whole world could come to accept the value of arithmetic and algebra, not to mention calculus, we could have such wonderful things! Buildings the size of mountains, bridges to span the largest river, a means of instant communication! Just thing of it, Hatson! We could have --"
Wholmes trailed off into a lengthy discussion of what a math-filled world could be like, unaware that the other two had, several moments ago, shared a knowing smile and gone back to their work.

The door burst open, closely followed by Henderson, the hulking chief engineer. "Word has it you're skippin' maintenance at Bellatrix and goin' straight into the Sennazi Extents."

Captain Minetti swiveled in her chair and quirked an eyebrow. "True. I take it you have some problem with that?"

Doctor F'beelinak slewed one way and then the other, adjusting to the interruption in its conversation with the captain. Its extended eyestalks finally came to focus on Henderson and it fluted, "Chief Engineer, your behavior is untoward, unseemly."

"Yeah, I do that," responded Henderson. "Cap'n, we're low on spares. You take us into an extended campaign, and I don't know that I can keep a starship runnin' under you once the shootin' starts in earnest."

Captain Minetti nodded, her lips pursing slightly before she answered. "I know, Earl. The thought's crossed my mind, too. But, really, we don't have a choice in the matter; if the Sennazi Cartels have enough time to analyze that Fusion-Plus core, we'll be in a lot more trouble than running out of missiles or hull patches."

F'beelinak fluttered its anterior cilia in consternation. "Captain, you only add to the lack of propriety with familiar terms of address. Lieutenant Henderson..."

"...is doing exactly what he's supposed to do," Minetti smoothly interrupted. "I'm familiar with his methods, and his priorities, and his expertise. If you want to fit in smoothly with this crew, Lieutenant F'beelinak, you'd be well advised to do the same. Earl gets the job done, follows orders, and supports my decisions. That's more than enough for me."

Henderson paused for a moment. The confusion on his face probably flashed past too quickly for the T'narian to analyze, to see that the captain's comment was intended as much to subtly put the engineer in his place as to support him in front of the ship's new officer. "Um, right, Cap'n. We'll do what we've gotta do. But, if we're not gettin' any new supplies, I'd like your authority to prioritize areas for repair. The sharp end of the ship oughta get the most attention, if there's only so much to go around."

The moist breathing holes to either side of the T'narian's shoulder-harness flared and hissed. "Chief Engineer, do you refer to the new interface units I requested for the Minerva's sick bay? I was most curious about your reticence on the topic over the mid-day meal today. Delay would be unacceptable, inefficient."

"...but unavoidable and inevitable," the captain parried again. "Crewmembers heal themselves; it's faster with a crashcouch, sure, but we can also work around our own injuries. Laser barbettes and static screens aren't quite so flexible or forgiving. Besides, Lieutenant, you've hardly even settled in to the sick bay yet. How can it need repairs already?"

Again the cilia quivered all across F'beelinak's lobes. "I am attempting to perform at the highest level for the good of this ship and crew, Captain, and to provide exemplary medical attention for a variety of biochemistries and xenotypes. It is my earnest hope that I can count on your attention and approval in pursuing this goal. Now, if you will excuse me, I will see how 'flexible and forgiving' my interface units can be." The T'narian's five limbs scythed about, propelling it smartly out the door.

Rubbing his hand across his face, Henderson grimaced. "I'm sorry, Sandra. I oughta have checked the room before I burst in like that. I was just worried, is all; the whole crew are. But, if you think we've got to hop to it, straight into Sennazi space, we're with you. We always are."

Betsy made a little noise of annoyance as she tried to open the small tub of ice cream. The contents were frozen to the lid. Setting it on the coffee table, she glared at it over her swollen belly, even though she knew well that wouldn't help. "So much for instant gratification."

"Mine came right off. You want some of my rocky road while you wait for yours?" Ranel tipped her own tub towards Betsy from the opposite couch. Her own abdomen wasn't as big as the other woman's - she was only five months along yet compared to Betsy's eight - but she was plump to start with.

Evi pulled the lid of her tub off with a little difficulty, just enough to pull a little sound from her throat. But it opened and she licked the lid. "You could have some of my mint chocolate chip if you want instead." Seven months into her own pregnancy, she was still slim aside from her bump, especially compared to Betsy.

Betsy pouted a little and shook her head. "I want strawberry. Want, want, want."

"This reminds me of a story." Evi punctuated her words with her spoon, using it like a replacement finger. "Three dogs sit around three bowls, each of them holding a different kind of food."

Ranel rolled her eyes. "Do we have to hear a story that compares us all to dogs?"

Betsy tried the tub again, hoping a half a minute would make a difference. "Better than one about flying kamikaze squirrels or something."

"I wasn't comparing us to dogs. We're the bowls." Evi grinned as she watched Betsy blush and Ranel blink a few times.

"I want to hear this story now."

Betsy's lid came off and she started to giggle. "Can you imagine Aeris as a dog? Oh, gods, or Duantan. He'd be that mutt, the one that turns his nose up at the garbage, the one that chases all the bitches around until he finds the one that smells just right."

Ranel started to giggle, too. "Allen would be the big ol' guard dog."

"My Aeris as a dog? Goodness. He's kind of like a little dog, isn't he?" Evi tapped her spoon on the top of her green dessert to think. "All eager and bouncy." She waggled her eyebrows to give the statement extra meaning.

"As if any of them aren't," Betsy snorted. She took a bite of her ice cream and groaned in pure pleasure. "Oh gods, yes, this is exactly what I wanted."

Three children stared at the destruction before them; their eyes welled up and the short one began crying. "We-we could try using glue, right?" His sobs broke his words apart into little tear drops pouring down his cheeks.

"Glue won't fix this." The oldest of them, a young girl, stomped her foot down in defiance, "But, I know what we can do." She grinned her devious little grin, teeth missing in a few places.

"What are you proposing?" The tallest rubbed his chin to show is interest in her idea.

"We paint a picture of what it used to look like, and cover it with the painting. Our parents will never know the difference!" Her squeaky voice echoed her excitement.

*sniff* "That's stupid." The littlest one rubbed his red eyes.

The other boy rested his arm on the small one's shoulder, "What other choice do we have?"

And but so, they painted away. Dipping their grimy little fingers into the paint and rubbing it clumsily onto sheets of paper, gluing and taping things together to piece together their masterpiece.

The little one rubbed his eyes. "Do you think it'll work?"

The tallest one let out an exhausted sigh, "It has to."

The little girl laughed "Even I'm starting to think it's the real deal, so our parents are sure to be fooled!"

Suddenly, the door burst open and the woman standing in the doorway portrayed a look of various emotions too horrifying to describe.

The three children each envisioned their own personal doom, looking at the other two for support, but none got the support they needed. They each gave into their fears at precisely the same instant, "They did it!" Each pointed to the others with the most convincing look of innocence they could muster, covered in finger paint and standing on the remains of the 60" flat screen their father cherished so much.