Bruce put the mug back on the replicator pad. Instead of a steaming mug of coffee, she had received a cup of gelatinous green stuff, smelling strongly of sulphur. A little computer detective work had revealed the culprit and recovered the correct program.

"Captain's Blend, black."

There was the slightest pause while the computer processed the command.

"That's better, thank you."

"You're welcome," replied the computer.

Bruce smiled. There was a time when she had been accused of practical joking. Assigned as second officer, under Engineering Captain Guignard, she had adjusted the programming of the ship's computer so it would respond to non-command communication directed at it. The Captain thought it was a joke, but was not amused. First Officer Solutus Bellacor, thought it was cute, but insisted it was unprofessional.

Soon Guignard went on to other duties, Bellacor was killed on some super-secret mission, and Bruce found herself in command of the USS Welfen. Once she was reasonably certain that Starfleet was not going to assign someone else as captain, Bruce restored the courtesy program. It was a small thing, even a frivolous one, but it was amazing how many people started thanking the computer when they knew it would reply "You're welcome."

Fixing Hough's practical joke had eaten up a large chunk of the time Bruce generally spent working on her writing. Morning was her best time for that kind of thinking. Generally, she ate as she worked. Since she did not have enough time to make writing worth-while, she might as well make the best of breakfast.

"Computer, please locate Counsellor Bloss and Doctor Rhiannon."

"Counsellor Bloss is in her quarters. Doctor Rhiannon is in her office."

"Send to both: The Captain will be breakfasting at The Circle. Care to join her?"

"Visual message sent to nearest terminals with usual signal."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Doctor Rhiannon had picked out a table near the back-facing ports, and was sipping coffee when Bruce entered The Circle.

"I've eaten already," she announced, as the Captain approached. "But I didn't want to miss the rare event of you eating a proper breakfast."

Bruce smiled and shook her head. Moments after she was seated, a Circle attendant brought over a tray with orange juice, a mug, and a carafe of coffee. The young man, one of the many civilians aboard who volunteered for Circle duty, placed the juice in front the empty chair. Almost at the same time Mandaema Bloss walked through the door. The young man dawdled over pouring the coffee so he could be graced by one of Mandaema Bloss's smiles. After taking the orders for breakfast, he left, with the carafe, no doubt to give himself the excuse to return more often.

"The beauteous Mandaema Bloss strikes again," said Rhiannon, in an affectionate tone. "Do you always send ahead with your drink order?" Bruce added wryly. Bloss gave them both gently reproving smiles.

"Michael has a very high psi-quotient for a human. He has been seeing me to help control it."

"He's telepathic?" asked Bruce.

"Borderline. He can read emotions, particularly in non-sentients, and he can communicate with telepathic races. He is very receptive."

"Surely, working in The Circle must be very distressing for him," Doctor Rhiannon commented.

"It is part of his therapy. During adolescence when his abilities started to increase, he tended to isolate himself. He has made tremendous progress since then. Now his chief concern is whether he wants to pursue a career as a counsellor or a veterinarian."

The subject of their conversation was returning with two plates of food, so they directed the discussion to more general topics for the rest of the meal.

"Captain on the bridge," announced the eager junior lieutenant.

"Thank you, Mr. Hill," Bruce said dryly, "but I'm only passing through. Number One, could I see you in my ready room?"

"Certainly, Captain. Sar'phia, you have the con."

"Coffee?" asked Bruce, as the door closed behind Aeron.

"Thank you, sir."

"Two coffees, Captain's Blend, hot, one white, one black. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Captain," replied the computer.

"Did you get my memo?" Bruce asked, sitting down at her desk.

"Yes, sir. Mr. Hough has been assigned to Lieutenant Soerk who is supervising the overhaul of the waste recycling separators." Bruce's mouth twitched with an ill repressed smile.

"Very good, Number One. Anything else to report?"

"I'd like to run a series of simulations on the auxiliary bridge. It's been quiet for the last couple of days and we have time before we reach Nova Terra III. I think some of the junior officers need to get a little action, and it would be an excellent training opportunity."

"A sound idea. Involve Mr. Klaagh. I imagine it isn't just the bridge

specialists that need shaking up. Between you, come up with two or three integrated scenarios. Invite the senior officers to participate. You don't have to be young to want a little action."

"Does that mean the Captain would like to join in?" Aeron said with a grin.

"Maybe -- maybe I'll play adversary. I was discussing the tactics of Orion raiders with that Gypsy when we stopped at Starbase 9 --"

"Spyder?"

"That's the one. In my experience, no computer has yet to develop the deviousness of the mortal mind, and in most real situations, it is the mortal mind they will be up against."

Aeron's eyes lit up with the warrior spirit inherent to her. It was easy to see, she certainly intended to get involved now.

"Anything else?" asked Bruce.

"No, sir. But with your permission, I will postpone our afternoon meeting so I can discuss the training exercise with Lieutenant Klaagh."

"I think the performance reports can wait," the Captain admitted. "Why don't we push the reports back until you can make a comparison of efficiency before and after the exercises. Not only will it be more meaningful, but you know how much I love routine reports ..."

Aeron snorted a laugh. The Captain, in her experience, hated anything that smacked of bureaucracy.

"...but," Bruce added, "I would like a brief overview of your initial report on my terminal by 15:00."

"Yes, sir."

Bruce nodded, then turned to her terminal. Aeron stood and took her cup back to the replicator pad for recycling.

"16:30 for Tai Chi, âlwen?"

Aeron nodded. "I'll be there."

The balance of the morning was taken up reading departmental reports and making notes from these for discussion at the up-coming department heads meeting. By the time these had been digested, Bruce was both restless and hungry. Restlessness took precedent and she went to the Physical Training Centre and called up a level three obstacle course. After the first run, Lieutenant Flynn asked the Captain if she'd care for a little competition, perhaps with a small bet on the side?

Bruce was no fool, and did not take the bet. For all his lazy manner, Flynn was a top-notch personal combat specialist, and the obstacle course was one of his favourite methods of staying that way. Still, Bruce gave him his money's worth, as the old saying went. He won, but he had to work at it. Appetite heightened, Bruce left Flynn in the gymnasium, waiting for a level four course to be set up. Showered and dressed in a fresh duty uniform, the Captain went to the Warp Ten Lounge, the engineers' mess. There, she was invited to join Chief Engineer Nikonersee at his table. Mr. Hill was also there, and almost came to attention when the Captain appeared.

"Preparing to move below, Mr Hill?" Bruce asked, trying to set the young man at ease. Christopher Hill looked puzzled. On the Welfen, the bridge was below the engineering decks. He gave himself a mental shake. This must be another one of the Captain's odd sayings.

"Yes, sir," he replied quickly. "Though I think I could do both jobs, sir."

Mr. Hill was transferring from navigation to engineering to join Nikonersee's propulsion team. It was a remarkable opportunity for the young officer, but Hill did not like the idea of leaving the bridge. In fact, both Nikonersee and Bruce agreed the junior lieutenant would do better in the more physically active, and concrete department.

"You won't think you can do both jobs when I get through with you," Nikonersee said good-naturedly. "Speaking of which, you have a level three diagnostic to run on the secondary fuel systems."

"Yes, sir" Hill replied, jumping to his feet. "Right away, sir."

"How are the rest of your new recruits working out?" Bruce asked.

Nikonersee shrugged stoically.

Engineering had the highest percentage of junior officers of any of the departments. In addition, he had been both consolidating, and expanding his section by integrating the engineering technicians from the various departments. In the long run it should simplify maintenance, repair, and training. While it was being organized, however, it was a lot of work for the Chief Engineer.

"They're all good officers," he replied, once he had washed down a bite of his sandwich with a mouthful of syntha-ale, "full of ideas and energy, and only a little short of discipline."

Bruce nodded.

"But I'm working on that," Nikonersee added seriously.

"I'm sure you are."

At precisely 16:40, Ensign Hough led the group in a set of Tai Chi. Any one of the assembled dozen officers could have taken the lead, but it was Hough's turn. At first he hesitated, giving the Captain a questioning look, and he seemed nervous during the warm-up stretches. Once the set was begun, however, he forgot his self-consciousness in the meditative movements of the Tai Chi. Later, after two sets and a cool-down, Hough approached the Captain cautiously.

"Yes, Mister?" Bruce said briskly, turning her full attention on the ensign.

"I'd like to apologise, Captain, for the trick I played. I realize now it was wrong for -- well, for lots of reasons. Any way, I am really sorry."

"Apology accepted, Mr. Hough. I have no doubt you have given up the spurious calling of prankster and will channel your sense of humour down more appropriate lines."

Ensign Hough nodded and, after a brief, awkward hesitation, left to freshen up.

Aeron, who had witnessed this scene, waited until Hough had gone before speaking.

"One more minor crisis solved," she commented. "Care to join us for dinner, Captain? Mandaema, Dene and I thought we'd go to The Circle before Dene has to report to the bridge for the night watch."

Bruce shook her head.

"Thank you, but no thank you. I have some writing to catch up on."

The Captain ate a light supper while working at her personal terminal. Once deep into the unfolding of her latest plot, she was not aware of what breaks she took to stretch or get fresh coffee, or how fast time was passing. At 22:30, the computer told her it was getting late. She finished up, and logged out. Tempting as it was, for it had been a long day, Bruce did not immediately go to bed. She had her own exercise routine that she did morning and night. Similar to Tai Chi, but with dance-like elements, the movements did not quite fit any known system. She did not know where she had learned it, only that in her active memory, she had always known it. It was, she felt, a link with her lost past. The slow, rhythmic motions stretched and relaxed her muscles. When the last bow was complete, Bruce felt centred, and ready for a good night's sleep.

"Computer, Space-scape, sound level one, please." Soft music started.

Bruce lay down and pulled the cover up over her shoulders. "Lights out, computer, and good-night."

The End

First Mission Logs
War Stories
Second Mission Logs
Beyond the Logs