Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The headache pounding in Brett’s head had not gone away with six hours of sleep. He could see Dr. Chen to get something, but she had too many other patients to deal with to worry about an ailment that was probably a figment of his imagination anyway. Instead, he put on a clean uniform and headed to the bridge.

In the twelve hours since leaving Serpalal III nothing had happened. No booby trapped freighters, no Serparnian warships appearing, and no messages from the Serparnian Liberation Army. It was quiet, too quiet as they said. So quiet the crew could catch up on its sleep before reaching Serpalal Prime.

Robyn sat in the command chair, reading over a datapadd. Ensign Cooper manned the helm, the only other person on the bridge. In ordinary times there would always be a full crew complement on the bridge, but these were far from ordinary times. With so many dead and wounded, replacements were in short supply.

“I’m here to relieve you, Captain,” Brett said.

“In a few minutes. I’m almost finished,” Robyn said.

“You can finish in your quarters. My shift started two minutes ago. Sir.” He added the last for Cooper’s benefit.

“All right, Commander. Notify me if anything happens.”

“Of course, sir.”

Brett should have taken Robyn’s seat as he was now acting commander of the Orion in her absence. He took his usual seat to her right, not wanting to feel the uncomfortable burden of sitting in a Starfleet command chair again. Besides, he had a comfortable groove worked into the padding of his seat.

An uncomfortable silence held sway over the bridge. Brett checked status reports on his display while Cooper monitored their course heading on the helm. As the silence continued, Brett realized he didn’t know anything about Cooper, not even her full name. Granted things had been a little busy to stage introductions, but his life might be in this girl’s hands at some point; he ought to at least know her name.

No time like the present, he thought. “So, Ensign Cooper, do you have a first name?” he asked.

“Georgia, sir.”

“After the state?”

“The artist. Georgia O’Keefe. Do you know her, sir?”

“I’m familiar with her work. Your parents must be interested in art then.”

“My mother’s a painter.”

“That’s wonderful. So what brought you to Starfleet?”

Cooper’s face turned red. “Artistic talent didn’t run in the family, sir.”

“That’s too bad. What about your father?”

“I wouldn’t know, sir.” The grimace on her face warned Brett not to press the issue any further.

“I understand. My father wasn’t around much either. I was better off for that.” This conversation was getting too personal for appropriate discussion between a first officer and a subordinate, but he was only an acting first officer anyway. “All that matters is having someone who loves you.”

“That’s very true, sir.”

Another uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them like a bad smell. “I don’t suppose a lack of painting skill was your only reason for joining up?”

Cooper uncomfortably fiddled with her red braid. “My boyfriend died in the war. The passenger ship he was on came under attack from Dominion ships.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s all right, sir.” She flicked the red braid over her shoulder. “What about you, sir?”

He thought about the question. The answer he should give according to the rulebook was to say he wanted to serve the Federation and all that. Then he thought back to his first date with Robyn in the café. “I wanted to be Jim Kirk,” he said.

If this came as any surprise to Cooper, she didn’t give any sign. “They talk about you at the Academy. The maneuvers you invented during the war are brilliant. Sir,” she said.

Brett hoped hid didn’t blush too much at this compliment. “Thank you, Ensign. I can assure you at the time I was just trying to save my rear.”

“Of course, sir. It’s really too bad what happened here—” Cooper stopped, as if realizing she’d skated onto thin ice.

“It’s all right, Ensign. What happened last time was an error in judgment on my part that cost thirty Serparnians their lives. I deserved what I got for it.”

She nodded at this and then turned around to check the helm while he stared out the viewscreen. He’d never considered he would become a subject at the Academy except perhaps what not to do in a crisis situation. On that he considered himself an expert.

His eyes turned to Cooper, tracing the red braid to where it ended halfway along her back. She reminded him of a redheaded version of Robyn, so shy and self-conscious. Like young Robyn, a fire lurked beneath the surface; he thought of the acidity in Cooper’s voice at the topic of her fire. He wondered if she would in time harden into a model Starfleet officer as Robyn had, if she would lose that shy self-consciousness.

He realized how much he missed this trait in Robyn. That sweet innocence of the pale girl who’d showed up to bail him out of the campus jail. A part of him knew he shouldn’t hold this against Robyn; he should applaud her for maturing into a capable woman. Yet he couldn’t help wishing she hadn’t changed.

With a sigh, he wondered if the problem wasn’t with Robyn but himself. Maybe he was disappointed she’d changed so much while he’d barely changed at all in the last fifteen years. She had grown while he shrunk, sinking into quicksand of his own making. With another sigh he decided he really ought to see the ship’s counselor as Robyn had suggested.

The bridge doors opened and Hurd went over to the tactical station. “I wasn’t told you were filling in for Lieutenant Ramirez,” Brett said.

“I cleared it with Captain Lichen. She thought it might be good to put me to use,” Hurd said.

This was all very reasonable and nothing in Hurd’s tone indicated any kind of malice, but Brett couldn’t help clenching his fists. Some people you just never warmed to no matter how nice they acted. Especially not Intelligence operatives who nearly killed you.

At least Hurd wasn’t the chatty type. The next four hours went by in relative silence, punctuated by Cooper and Hurd reporting nothing was happening. Still quiet, too quiet.

Robyn, Ramirez, and Merle came onto the bridge at the same time. When Ramirez took back the tactical station, Hurd came over to sit at Robyn’s left, folding his hands in his lap. Brett swallowed a suggestion that Hurd go back to his quarters.

“Did I miss anything?” Robyn asked.

“Not a thing,” Brett said.

“Good. How long until we reach Serpalal Prime, Ensign?”

“Approximately forty-five minutes, sir,” Cooper said.

“Thank you, Ensign.”

Brett wondered if Robyn knew Cooper’s first name. She probably did. Robyn was the type of first officer to memorize the crew manifest before anyone boarded. He should have asked her for some information, but there hadn’t been time. Now he supposed with Serpalal Prime coming up there wouldn’t be any time for a long while.

Forty minutes later, Ramirez said, “Captain, we’re receiving a message from a Chief Steward Streng.”

“Onscreen.”

A Serparnian with lime green scales and a hood colored the same blue as his shell came onto the screen. His tongue flickered out and his fangs showed when he approximated a human smile. “Greetings, Starfleet vessel. On behalf of Prime Minister Serlinum I welcome you to Serpalal Prime. I have taken the liberty of making arrangements for a meeting with the prime minister. I will send you the coordinates.”

“Thank you, Chief Steward. On behalf of the United Federation of Planets, I accept. I look forward to discussing matters of mutual interest with Prime Minister Serlinum,” Robyn said, her tone matching Streng’s stuffiness.

Brett resisted the urge to snort wit derision. No matter where you went, diplomats were always the same. They all enjoyed talking just to hear themselves. He doubted he would like Prime Minister Serlinum any more than his aide. At this he wondered if it were better to deal with terrorists like the Serparnian Liberation Army or diplomats.

The terrorists would at least shoot you right off instead of boring you to death, he mused.