Alison Bruce had slept the uneasy sleep of the partially drugged. Considering the quantities of Romulan Ale she had been forced to consume the night before, this was not surprising.

Romulan Ale was a favourite drink of the former Captain, previously kept exclusively to himself and his cronies. The pale blue product of a bitter grain, sucrose, and double distilling had the kick of an over-loaded disruptor. Since the Federation, and most of the Klingon Empire was not on speaking terms with the Romulans, it was a rare treat. In Bruce's opinion it tasted like Christmas candy dissolved in eighty proof vodka.

She'd much rather eat gaghq. Once you got over the fact that you're eating live worms, the dish has some merit. Alive, the taste is a bit like smoked oysters and cheese curds. Dead gaghq, on the other hand, has the consistency and flavour of a rubber hose.

Gaghq, Blood Wine and Romulan Ale were consumed in abundance as the Haugh Teing celebrated its victory over the superiorly armed Muhern. It was a tag-end battle at the close of a brief but bloody civil war. Their foe, the Duras faction, was in retreat. Their ally Gowron's ascendancy was assured. There was much to celebrate especially by Bruce who had survived the battle and the war despite the best efforts of the enemy and the Haugh Teing's captain, Dreq.

All of that seemed like a piece of cake compared to what Bruce had to face now.

She couldn't hear the low peep of her chronometer's alarm over the sonorous snores of her room-mate, but Bruce's internal clock told her it was time to get ready. Bleary-eyed and still somewhat inebriated, she fell out of the top bunk, landing heavily on the deck. The snores rumbled on unabated.

Bruce poured a mug of coffee from the thermos she had filled the night before. Klingons did not provide their crew with replicators - they were expected to take meals and refreshments in the mess with their fellow officers. Bruce, however, liked to have a cup of coffee - dark roast arabica not Klingon coffee, first thing in the morning. Raktajino was okay, but it didn't replace strong black coffee when you needed to send your brain a wake-up call.

One of the first things Bruce had done, once she had the Haugh Teing's auxiliary systems back on line, was to program her favourite drink into the Officer's Mess replicator menu. She worked from the dregs from her last thermos: an espresso-dark roast blend, three days old. That was after the Klingon's shanghaied her and Lieutenant Crosby while they were assisting with repairs to the cruiser's computer systems. The call of battle superseded any agreement Captain Dreq had with the USS Schroedinger's captain, Jason Hobbes. Instead of making their rendezvous with the Federation science vessel, as soon as the cruiser was battle-ready, Dreq ordered the Haugh Teing to join Gowron's fleet.

Crosby made a show of indignation, but was actually excited by the prospect of serving aboard a Klingon ship. Though a top-notch engineer, his ambitions focused on the centre seat. He saw the situation as an opportunity for personal and professional growth. It came as a blow to him that they were expected to finish the job they had started and stay out of the way. They were Federation: allies but not comrades.

Bruce was stoic. A little over a year ago she had woken up in the Sick Bay of the USS Enterprise. Evidently she had emerged from a temporal rift in a heavily damaged and ancient Klingon fighter. After preliminary, and largely futile investigations had been made, Bruce had been transferred to the Shroedinger for transport to Earth. On the Shroedinger she found a foster home. Although her personal memories were elusive, learned skills surfaced as needed. As a result, Captain Hobbes had received permission to keep her aboard and had recently given her a brevet rank of lieutenant when she took over for the systems engineer when he took paternity leave. Surprisingly, she found herself equally at home on the Haugh Teng.

Crosby died, killed en route to engineering during the first battle the Haugh Teing joined.

Bruce survived. With the shortage of officers she had been put to work repairing systems, and filling in as needed at various bridge stations. Though Dreq harboured a strong antipathy towards the Federation in general, and Bruce in particular, his first officer, Nagqab respected and used her talents. When Dreq was persuaded by the Duras sisters to change sides, and attempted to assassinate his first officer to cement the deal, Bruce was amongst those who stood with Nagqab. After the death of the traitorous captain, Bruce was given the field rank of lieutenant. Although she had being doing the job of a bridge officer, the sudden advancement raised hackles in the lower decks. Bruce could live with that. What bothered her was that Crosby had lost his chance for glory. It made her feel like she had left the dance with someone else's date.

Crosby, coffee, anticipation and dread overlapped in her mind as she showered and dressed. The water was too cold, her new uniform too large, but none of these details cut through her pensiveness.

She had never strived to be accepted, but Crosby's attempts struck a familiar chord. Somewhere, some-when, approval had been of paramount importance to her. It seemed terribly unfair that she should have earned recognition and respect while Crosby, to whom it would have meant more, died unmourned.

Not that anyone would mourn her death, she reminded herself. Nor was there any guarantee that she would survive the day. If one of Dreq's cronies didn't try to avenge his death, or a junior officer assassinate her out of resentment, she might die of a hangover.

She poured a second cup of coffee and added a shot of the good stuff from her private stash.

Klingons did not believe in pain-killers, but Bruce had discovered a traditional Klingon liqueur that was an effective liquid analgesic. "The good stuff", as she called it, had seen her through double watches, love poetry, Crosby's death and her own near brush with the Grim Reaper.

Klingons also did not believe in mirrors - not on battle cruisers in any case. Bruce had to hope that she had secured her hair neatly off her face, and her uniform was on straight. It wasn't the most important thing, but Bruce suspected that if she were at least a little aesthetically pleasing, she might be forgiven any faults due to inexperience.

With a long gulp, Bruce swallowed the last of her hot drink, wiping a stray drop of the dark fluid from her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Once more into the breach," she quoted, wishing there was a dear friend to share the moment with.

"Die well," came a groggy voice from the lower bunk, "and turn the damned light off when you go!"

As she made her way to the bridge, Bruce tried to get the image of going off to meet her doom out of her head.

"The first time should be the best," a low voice growled close to her ear.

Bruce started slightly, bringing a toothy grin to the Security Chief's face. Lieutenant Klaagh followed her onto the turbolift, maintaining close proximity.

"I can find reason to come to the bridge," he offered, giving her a warm smile. "You have never done this before - you might want a friendly hand."

Bruce gave Klaagh a hard look. His offer seemed genuine. She didn't think he realized what his words sounded like. That made it doubly difficult to keep a straight face.

"No - thank you," she replied, awkwardly. "I don't think that would be appropriate. This is something I have to do alone ... well, not entirely alone ..." She floundered slightly.

Klaagh frowned and looked at her strangely. It was the same expression he had given her when she told him his poetry was "interesting". He stopped the lift at the next deck and got off. Bruce sighed with relief.

No more a Daniel entering the lion's den, Bruce was besieged with quite different images. When she stepped onto the bridge, a tiny smile lifted the corner of her mouth in a decided smirk. As she scanned the room, drinking in the details, she silently thanked the unsuspecting Klaagh for giving her mind a new focus.

Captain Nagqab's voice cut through her revry.

"You're late," he barked.

Bruce checked the bridge chronometer. She was exactly on time.

"Apologies, sir," she replied briskly.

"With me, Lieutenant."

Bruce followed the captain into his ready room. When the door closed behind her, his expression lightened. He half sat on his desk and waved a hand at the chair in front of it.

"Sit."

She looked from him to the low leather seat.

"Do I have to?"

With Nagqab half sitting, and her standing, Bruce could almost look the captain in the eye.

Nagqab grinned and shook his head.

"You may stand," he said graciously. Then his face grew serious again as he studied her intently. "You're good," he stated firmly, "but are you sure you're ready for this?"

Bruce smiled with wry amusement. He was the one who had pushed her into this and now he was asking her if she was ready. At the same time, she was conscious of a very strong desire to please him. Her heart was pounding while her mind appreciated the humour of the situation. For a fleeting moment, she wondered how she would react if Nagqab started writing poetry for her. She took a deep breath.

"I'm ready," Bruce replied. "You won't be disappointed."

The captain nodded and leaned forward to give her shoulder a bone crushing squeeze.

"Qapla."

Bruce followed Nagqab onto the bridge. A new set of officers had taken the place of the previous watch. At his command, the stations reported their status to the captain. Bruce listened carefully, taking note of attitudes as much as reports.

"You've got the con, Lieutenant Bruce," Nagqab announced, turning to leave.

"I wonder what else the Federation gets," remarked the navigation officer, just loud enough to be heard.

Bruce moved quickly, spinning the junior officer around in his chair. His smirk disappeared when he saw her expression.

"Don't think of me as Federation," she said with a dangerous calm. "Remember I am an officer of the Klingon Empire and likely to kill you as soon as put you up on charges for insubordination."

"Understood," was the subdued reply.

Bruce let him turn back to his station, then settled herself comfortably in the centre seat. Behind her, Nagqab stepped into the turbolift, snippets of verse coalescing in his mind.

END

First Mission Logs
War Stories
Second Mission Logs
Beyond the Logs