"USS Surefoot-A, Captain's Log, Stardate 49589.99, Captain Esek Hrelle, Commanding: we are rejoining the Fleet near the Sherman Sector, to provide ambulance and rescue support in the war against the Klingons. Along the way we stopped off at Starbase 154 to make a few cosmetic and engineering modifications, stock up on supplies, and most importantly, to collect officers and crew to fill the vacancies normally taken up by our cadets and those officers who remained on Earth for shore leave or other duties.
This includes a temporary First Officer, Commander Emil Bellamy, who has an impressive record performing similar duties on a wide variety of different assignments... as he never fails to remind everyone. He's... He...
(Sigh) He annoys the hell out of me. I'm trying to be patient and professional, reminding myself that I shouldn't compare him to Commander T'Varik, that I'm distracted from missing my wife and son and Sasha. But just when I think that maybe he's not all bad, he does something to make me long for the day when he moves on to annoy someone else..."
*
Deck 2 Fore, Captain's Ready Room:
Hrelle had his feet up on his desk, admiring the image on his viewscreen when his door buzzed. "Enter."
His back was to the door, his tail swishing lazily through the hole in the back of his chair, but his ears and nose immediately identified the visitor. "Commander Bellamy, thank you for coming."
"My pleasure, Captain. I am here to serve."
"Yes." He nodded up to the screen: a view from the outside of the dorsal hull of the Aft Engineering section of the ship, a stubby flat surface where the Starbase Support team had painted a bright apple-red symmetrical symbol of a paw print, a main pad topped with five smaller digital pads and claw marks. "What do you think of our new markings?"
He heard Bellamy made a non-committal sound, before responding with, "The station team performed an adequate job, but I observed areas of improvement which I submitted to their Department before our departure-"
"Which I'm sure will be as well-received as the ones you've submitted to me. But I was referring to how awesome it looks."
"Ah. Ah, yes. Awesome, indeed." He displayed all the enthusiasm of a man rearranging his bookcase.
Hrelle set down his feet and turned his chair to the face the man: a middle-aged, pale-skinned human with a moon face, receding blonde hair and gimlet eyes. "You have a problem with the Red Paw, Commander?"
"Problem? Not per se, Captain, but in my experience the human-designed Red Cross would be a more recognised symbol of this vessel's current mission parameters, than something this..." He waved towards the viewscreen. "Obscure."
"The Red Paw is a widely-recognised symbol of a vessel providing medical aid," Hrelle informed him indignantly. "By Caitians and other felinoids, as well as canoids, ursinoids, vulpoids, musteloids... it's as valid as the Red Cross, Crystal, Helix, Star and the rest of the accepted symbols on the Interstellar Aid Registry. And... I like it."
Bellamy made an appraising sound. "It is very pretty, Captain. But do not be deceived into thinking it will protect your ship from attack by the Klingons. In my experience, they have no respect for the beliefs of others."
Hrelle nodded at that. "Speaking of respect for the beliefs of others... I didn't ask you here to talk about the Red Paw. I understand you reprimanded Nurse Jika Showri today for wearing her D'ja pagh while in uniform."
Bellamy allowed a smirk to crease his face. "Ah. I suspected she might have come crying to you-"
"Ms Jika said nothing; it was Doctor Masterson who alerted me. And with good reason: Ship's Policy allows for the reasonable display of religious and cultural accessories with the uniform; the Bajoran earpiece certainly qualifies as 'reasonable'."
The Commander straightened up slightly. "Yes, I wished to speak with you about changing that policy, Captain. In my experience, encouraging such displays among the more primitive cultures-"
"Primitive? Bajorans were exploring interstellar space in lightships when your people were burning witches at the stake!"
"Nevertheless, Captain, eliminating such superstitious trappings promotes a more unified mindset-"
"Well, you must have been confident that I would agree with you, since you presumed to go ahead and humiliate my crewman and force her to remove the symbol of her beliefs in front of her supervisor and colleagues, before getting such an agreement confirmed."
The man hesitated, as if sensing Hrelle's mood. "Sir?"
"You were wrong," the Caitian declared sharply. "I don't agree with you. I'm not a religious person. But I do respect the rights of people to believe what they want, so long as those beliefs don't interfere with the rights of others, or how this ship is run. We are a Galaxy rich in diversity, and we should be able to reflect that. I won't change my policy. And I think you should apologise to Ms Jika for your chutzpah."
Bellamy frowned. "Chutzpah, Sir?"
"Effrontery. Nerve. Gall."
"Ah. I see." The man stuck out his chin indignantly, as if he was the aggrieved party. "Is that an order, Captain?"
Hrelle stared back hard. "It shouldn't have to be." He rose to his feet. "Mr Bellamy, it's only fair to inform you that when we rendezvous with the Fleet, I'll be asking for a replacement XO."
The man never reacted.
"You have redoubtable organisational skills," Hrelle continued, wanting to soften the blow despite his annoyance at the man, "Which have made you instrumental in implementing the changes and additions to my ship and crew in record time, and I will make a note of that in my report to Admiral Savari.
But you're also arrogant, opinionated, Terracentric, presumptive, dismissive... I've had complaints from every Department Head since your arrival. I was willing to overlook them at first, because you were new and needed and you had some big shoes to fill. But hearing your attitude today-"
"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" he interrupted.
Hrelle nodded.
"Sir, with respect, this isn't the first time a CO has complained about me. I've been labelled all those things you said, and much more. But I didn't take this assignment to be liked while I'm here or missed when I'm gone. I'm here to do a job, a job I do very well, as my record will attest. I will of course appreciate any positive feedback you might have for me, and take it onboard for future."
Hrelle considered the response he had received, before replying, "Dismissed, Commander."
As he watched the man depart, Hrelle rubbed his eyes, reaching into a desk drawer and retrieving a carefully-folded plush purple cloth: one of Misha's old blankets, which the cub still carried around at times when he began walking. He held it up to his snout and breathed in deeply, taking in his son's scent - and his mother's as well.
Seven Hells, it had only been two weeks since he'd been on Earth with them, but it felt like eternity. He was fretful, agitated; his sleep was going haywire without their presence, and though their scent lingered in his quarters, he missed hearing them breathe, snore, laugh and play around him. He hated being alone. He needed to hear from them more often, but it wasn't always possible given the current security situation-
He started as the door buzzed again, and he put down the blanket. "Enter."
Doc Masterson stepped in, carrying a box under one arm and a tricorder in his other hand. "Howdy, Captain! Busy?"
"Never too busy for you, Doc! Come on in and sit yourself down, Tenderhead!"
"'Tenderfoot'," Masterson corrected, setting the box and tricorder down on the desk, before taking a chair opposite him - straddling it, of course. The square-jawed man broke into a toothy grin. "You know, I might have grown up in a colony of cowboys, but you don't have to indulge me every time."
"I like cowboys; it's those hats you all wear. Oh, and the food, too. Okay, mostly the food. How are the new medical staff?"
"Doctor Shyrik's sharp as a tack, but she looks like she'd just as soon kill me as give me the time of day; Andorians must have burrs under their antennae. Glad I've got Eydiir down there to watch my back." More seriously, he asked, "You talked to Commander Bellamy about Jika?"
Hrelle nodded. "I set him straight."
"Good." Masterson regarded him, before lifting up his tricorder and scanning his Captain. "Heightened levels of acetylcholine indicative of Caitian Pheromone Withdrawal, producing irregular sleep patterns, irritability... you've not been using your Personal Relaxation Light, have you?"
"Caitians prefer the darkness. Not that we get much of it with our night vision."
The CMO reached out and pushed the box closer to the Captain. "Then this might help."
He peeled off the lid - his tail swishing excitedly as the mouth-watering scent of freshly-replicated Southern-fried shuris pieces within reached his nostrils. "Is it my birthday?"
Masterson smiled. "Better: it's a prescription from your ship's doctor, supported by your missus. After keeping you on rabbit food all this time, you need a break." He watched as Hrelle tore into one large piece, noting, "Don't inhale it all in one go, Pardner. It's not just for you."
His mouth full, Hrelle motioned for Masterson to tuck in.
"I don't mean me, Captain. Someone else suffering from CPW..."
As if on cue, the door slid open without warning, and the coal-furred Caitian female in her gold-topped uniform enter, her tail swishing friskily behind her as she rushed around to behind Hrelle's desk to help herself to shuris. "What, you left me some, Uncle Esek? Slowing down in your old age?"
He grunted. "Cheeky bitch."
"Sorry, I'm in Season."
He waved the air between them. "No kidding; your musk is as thick as a Gorn's hide. Well, take a suppressant, because you're not getting any action from your Uncle and Commanding Officer."
She leaned in and peered at his muzzle. "You're getting lots of grey there. Misha's gonna think he has a new Grandpa."
"I hate you." He looked to Masterson, who was grinning. "Enjoying yourself?"
