The tall slim, African-American captain of the U.S.S. Bristol sat in his command chair on the Bridge of the U.S.S. Bristol and yawned. He'd been up too late with Commander Yilaan in yet another medieval fantasy in the Holodeck the night before. Whereas she had second shift and could sleep in, he had first shift and was barely able to get four hours of sleep. He mentally kicked himself; putting his personal entertainment ahead of the ship and his crew. He had grown complacent on this tour, and would not let it happen again.
No one else on the Bridge knew, of course, what had gone on the night before. The captain was naturally remote from his officers, as a captain should be. Or so he was taught anyway; he could never be sure if he really was, or even if he really should be, but he tried. 'Obviously you're not trying very hard with Yilaan,' his brain told him, but he merely shrugged and smiled that one away. She was different; different than his other officers, and his other friends. She was full of life, and the others; well the others were just a little too stiff and stodgy for his liking, or else so aggressive that he had to waste all his time keeping an eye on them. Commander Yilaan was the first first officer he'd had that he felt he could really, truly, rely on, and that was a welcome change from his old commands.
So lost in thought was Captain Mark Freeman, that he didn't even notice when his brown-haired, dark-eyed first officer joined him on the Bridge and sat down in her chair next to his. Only when he looked over absent-mindedly did he nearly jump out of his chair with alarm; who knew how long she'd been staring at him, waiting for him to say something?
"Everything alright today sir?" she asked pleasantly. "You look a little lost in thought Captain."
"What? Er, well," the captain stammered, momentarily at a loss for words. "I'm fine, thank you Commander, I'm just, um, contemplating our mission."
As easily as she had gotten to know the man, she saw through his poor effort at falsehood. She decided, however, that as well as they'd been getting along, some things were not her business, so she let the matter drop.
"You're here early today Cecilia," the captain commented, trying to quickly change the subject.
"Actually sir," she said gently, "I'm here on time; you've stayed late. First shift ended fifteen minutes ago."
He stood up suddenly, and realized he'd completely lost track of time; another chink in his captainly armour, and he was embarrassed. "So it is. You have the Bridge, Commander Yilaan. I'll be in my quarters, catching up on some.....reading," he said very officially.
She smiled and nodded, and took over the command chair on the Bridge. She noted that Lt. Hathaway, the duty officer presently at the helm, and Ensign Gates at navigation, both exchanged looks. Rather than let their minds wander about what they just witnessed, she said abruptly, "Report on position of the Bristol, Lieutenant."
Hathaway was taken a bit off guard, but pulled his wits together and succinctly reported the appropriate information to Commander Yilaan. She then ordered, "Estimated time to Outpost 12 at current speed, Ensign Gates."
Gates recovered much faster than Hathaway, and was able to give an immediate response. "Commander, we're a day and four hours away at present speed."
"Increase speed to warp four, Ensign," Yilaan ordered.
The young African-American at the navigation post complied, and the ship lurched ahead at warp four. "We're now twenty-two hours out of Outpost 12," she updated.
"Anything interesting on long-range scan?" Cecilia asked of the tactical officer on duty, Lt. O'Shea.
He shook his head, "Nothing to report Commander."
She sighed, as a half-smile crept onto her face. 'Maybe I should've taken that Starbase job anyway; there's nothing more tedious then patrolling,' she thought to herself.
Three uneventful hours went by, much to the chagrin of Commander Yilaan, who wiled away her time making small talk with the other Bridge officers, and thinking about her time with the captain the night before. A report from Lt. O'Shea lurched her back to reality.
"Commander, long range scan is indicating the presence of another ship," the sandy-haired O'Shea reported, his slight Irish accent still detectable by the average listener.
"What sort of ship," she asked.
"Decoding its transponder code now." After a pause, Lt. O'Shea continued, "It's the Federation destroyer Monroe; and its changed course to intercept us."
"Open hailing frequencies," Yilaan ordered.
"Open."
An image of an Asian Human male appeared on the screen. "Greetings," he said, without trace of any sort of accent. "I am Lt. Commander Harry Wu of the Monroe." He appeared to glance about the Bridge of the Bristol briefly, as if looking for someone. "Is Captain Freeman still your commanding officer?"
Yilaan smiled faintly. She didn't know what to make of this man on the screen, but something about him didn't seem quite right. "He is, however he is off-duty right now. I'm Commander Cecilia Yilaan, First Officer of the Bristol." She studied him for a moment. "Are you the same Harry Wu who was roommates with the captain during his last year at the Academy?" she asked, smiling.
Ensign Gates looked around at Yilaan in surprise, and made a mental note that the captain and first officer were much more familiar than anyone suspected.
Wu smiled at the recollection. "Yes! Ah, those were the days. I was glad to hear your ship had been posted to this patrol, and I'm happy to finally run across you." He continued more seriously, "I wish that this was merely a courtesy call, but it's not. I have things I need to report."
Yilaan smiled at him, as if expecting him to continue. He read her expressions properly and shook his head. "Not over subspace, Commander. I'll need to speak to you and your captain in person." Lt. Commander Wu then brightened somewhat. "See you soon! Wu out." His image on the viewscreen faded, and was replaced by stars.
Yilaan, still staring at the screen, frowned. 'Well, wish for trouble and you'll get it,' she thought irritably. "Time to intercept, Lt. Hathaway?"
The young red-haired Human helmsman responded, "Two hours, nineteen minutes; they're travelling at warp nine-point-six."
The Betazoid Yilaan straightened her uniform and waited impatiently for trouble to brew. She opened the empathic part of her mind to those around her, hoping to get an inkling of whatever lay ahead, before it happened.
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