Ship's Log: November 30

Devereux stood outside the docking hatch, flanked by Rusty and Elizabeth; both were also dressed in their formal uniforms. As annoying and inconvenient as this assignment might be, Devereux could not help but feel a small swell of pride that her ship would be host to an assortment of select VIPs. The scope still felt slight daunting, though. The Emerald Flight had, on occasion, played host to the occasional single party of one kind of ranking official or another, but never to a large contingent of varied ones—particularly a set of which many were on less than cordial terms with each other.

Keeping her eyes on the indicator lights on the docking hatch panel, she heard the faint metallic sounds of the clamps making a hard connection with the Ariel. There followed the barely audible hiss of equalizing pressure and then all of the indicators glowed green.

Devereux nodded to the security officer to her left. She had six of them present, wearing their duty uniforms. Although this was a formal greeting, she thought having her security force dressed for duty might send a clear message to the delegates that their presence was not meant solely for show. The officer entered the access code to unlock the hatch. There was an acknowledging chime and the officer on the other side pulled open the hatch.

An officer in the dress gold of the diplomatic service stepped through. He smiled broadly as he stopped in front of Devereux and offered her a smart salute. Devereux returned the salute with slightly less fervor and then paused a moment, seeing a vague resemblance in the man to someone she knew. His hair was brown, but there something about his eyes that tickled the back of her mind.

"Commander Daniel Rayna," he introduced himself. "If you’d like, you can call me D.B." He continued to smile at her before turning to check out the other crewmember with her. His eyes stopped at her left, his expression stiffening slightly.

Devereux nearly froze, her eyes flickering over to where her Chief Engineer stood. Rusty's expression did little to hide both his surprise and angry contempt for the young officer in front of her. Rayna, she thought, remembering the officer's introduction. That explains the resemblance. She recalled that Rusty's brother was a commissioned officer serving as an attaché in the diplomatic branch, but the connection had escaped her until he had introduced himself.

She swallowed, managing to find her voice. "Welcome aboard, Commander," she said, breaking the quiet of the awkward moment. Silently cursing herself for not reading the briefing files more thoroughly, she expected now that additional trouble was on its way with this new development. There was, she decided, little she could do about it right now.

Commander Rayna grinned at her. She found it surprisingly infectious and yet she found a hint of something almost manipulative in it, too close an echo of his brother for her comfort. He is a politician after all, she reminded herself.

"I trust everything has been prepared according to the specifications you were sent?" he asked. Although he continued to smile, there was a note of caution in his tone that implied that there was only one acceptable answer.

Devereux studied Rayna for a moment before answering. "As best as we can manage, yes," she replied. "You’re welcome to check out the arrangements yourself." Devereux was surprised by the chill that had crept into her tone.

Rayna appeared not notice. "Thank you, Captain," he said. His eyes darted toward Rusty for a moment. "It might be best if I do so," he went on, looking back at Devereux. "Having any of the delegates dissatisfied with their accommodations would not be a good way to begin our brief sojourn together."

Rayna's smile had grown thin and almost condescending. Devereux did her best not to let it affect her. "Whatever you wish, Commander," she said evenly. She turned toward Elizabeth and Rusty. "The Lieutenant here and my Chief Engineer can show you what's been done."

"Your cooperation is appreciated, Captain."

Devereux looked at Rayna for a moment before turning to Elizabeth and nodding. She noticed that Rusty's jaw muscles worked furiously, but he had so far said nothing in his brother's presence. Interesting, she thought, considering the situation. I know they've had their issues. Yet one more thing to check back on, she told herself with a mental sigh. She watched as Rayna trailed Elizabeth and Rusty down the passageway. It occurred to her to wonder who was watching the delegates on board the Ariel. She also wondered whether she might not end up having more trouble with the bureaucrats of her race than any of the aliens.

After a moment, she dismissed all but two of the security guards. She instructed them to remain there and allow no one to depart or disembark from the Ariel without her explicit approval. After exchanging salutes, she left. As she walked the corridor to the bridge, she considered the phrasing of several unkind remarks that she would not share during her next conversation with Colonel Martinez.

Ship's Log: November 29

[after receiving the initial assignment]

Devereux stepped through the hatch into the conference slightly more than two minutes late. She preferred to be the first one to her briefings. She felt it gave her a slight advantage to watch everyone as they came in, a chance to judge their mental and physical state before settling on the final mission assignments. This morning, though, every conversation she had seemed to take several more minutes than it should have. As a result, she arrived late, feeling the lack of her usual few minutes of quiet preparation.

She was pleased, though, to see that everyone was present and already seated. Both Elizabeth and Rusty, although seated apart, had matching mugs of coffee. Hope sat stoically at her usual place to what would be Devereux's left. Across the table, next to Elizabeth, sat Hawkes. He appeared alert and ready, but then Devereux had rarely seen him look any other way. She had seen him begin to show signs of fatigue under constant battle conditions. With faint humor, she wondered how he would hold up in the upcoming situation.

"Good morning," she announced almost cheerfully. Although she had managed to coax herself into a smile as she walked through the hatchway, she suspected that most of those present would realize it for what it was. She felt it was important, nonetheless, to try to portray a positive attitude. Their assignment, she knew, could have been far, far worse.

"Good morning, Captain," Elizabeth responded brightly. She appeared ready, almost eager, to hear their new orders. Hawkes echoed the lieutenant's greeting.

"'morning, Cap'n," Rusty offered a little too cheerfully.

Devereux studied him quickly, but her initial assessment was that there seemed to be little more than an early dose of caffeine running through his system. He gave her a deliberate, cocky smile and then turned his gaze to something more interesting somewhere on the bulkhead behind.

As Devereux seated herself beside Hope, the Aerian officer nodded once to her before turning her attention once more ahead. "Captain."

"Now that we have that out of the way," Devereux began, "I'll presume that you've all guessed that we have new orders." She paused a moment to quickly gauge everyone's reactions. No one appeared particularly surprised by the statement. If anything, Elizabeth seemed to become even more sharply alert. Hope and Hawkes simply sat attentively. Rusty appeared almost smug, trying to hide his knowing smile behind a sip of coffee. Devereux then realized that, had he checked in with Engineering before coming here, he would probably know at least about the course change.

Devereux tapped a control on her tablet and the holographic projector in the middle of the table flickered into life. It displayed a rendering of a large, pleasingly designed vessel. "The Ariel is a chartered transport carrying a group of diplomats to Sagan One for a series of talks." A time and distance log was added at the bottom of the display. "They suffered a drive failure and are unable to make their own repairs at this time."

"We know how that is," Rusty murmured in a tone that was clearly audible to everyone at the table.

Elizabeth shot him a sharp glance. Devereux glanced at him, but gave no reaction. Rusty simply smiled.

"We're supposed to take them to Sagan One?" Elizabeth asked.

Devereux shook her head. "Fortunately, no," she replied, allowing her relief to show in her voice. "Command recognizes that we're not really equipped to ferry the delegates all the way there," she said. "But the nearest other ship is several days away," she went on. "Colonel Martinez thinks it would be a bad idea to just the leave them on a stranded ship for that long." Her lips moved in a faint grimace. "Unfortunately, I have to agree."

A confused expression formed on Elizabeth's features. "I thought we weren't taking them all the way to Sagan One?"

"We're not," Devereux explained. "We're to pick up the delegates and then rendezvous with the Bonaventure, who will take them the rest of the way to the conference in the luxury accommodations that they're used to."

Ship's Log: November 28

[during the tour of the infirmary]

Elizabeth stared, caught speechless, at the scene before her. She had been following along with the tour, supposedly to keep an eye on the delegates and ensure that none of them accidentally wandered off or decided to engage their curiosity on what certain buttons did at some of the stations. Her mind had began to wander, as she was more than familiar with the areas of the ship that the Captain was taking the group through, and she had not been particularly resolute about reining it in.

Although her exposure to the Star Blood had been chiefly limited to some second-hand accounts in the galley and his behavior during this tour, she did not feel she was being particularly unfair in considering him an arrogant waste of ship's air and power. Not that she held the warmest feelings for Hope either, but Hope was part of the crew and the Captain appeared to trust her. From what Elizabeth had seen, it seemed as if Hope might also be the Captain's confidante about many matters, but she really had no solid proof of that. She tried to imagine being a friend to someone so . . . distant.

The sight of the Star Blood and his aides nearly falling to their knees in front of Hope was not only completely unexpected, it was almost surreal. The entire of Hope being treated as some kind of goddess or something was more than strange—it bordered on the surreal. Elizabeth knew the basics about the Aerians—that they were tenuous allies—but had not yet furthered her education about them. With Hope on board, she had meant to, but something else always seemed to come up. Short of a direct order from the Captain to do so, she knew that it was likely she never would have found the time—until now.

She caught Devereux's expression, realizing that the Captain appeared almost every bit as astonished as she was by what was happening in front of them. That stuck her as both unusual and a little bit humorous. With all the trust she seemed to put in Hope, it seemed strange that the Captain would not have a better understanding of Aerian culture and behavior. Maybe, she considered, no one really understands Aerian behavior. Except maybe the Aerians. Judging from Hope's posture (for her expression almost never gave anything away), Elizabeth was not convinced that Hope did either.

The entire party stood in discomfited silence. The Star Blood seemed to say something to Hope, but Elizabeth was too far away to hear it. She thought she saw Hope respond, but what she heard made no sense. She suspected that it might be a native Aerian language, but she had never heard it before, so could not be certain.

Moments passed while the group watched the puzzling drama came to a subdued end as the Star Blood rose from his knees, quiet and looking almost reverent. Gone from his expression were the earlier haughtiness and disdain. He and his companions stood before Hope, but not looking at her, Elizabeth noticed. The group of delegates waited awkwardly, wondering if the ritual—if that is what it was—was over and that it was safe to speak or leave.

No one said a word aloud, but Elizabeth thought she heard some very quiet whispers among the delegates and their aides. It seemed to Elizabeth that Devereux was still trying to make sense of the situation, but also noticed that the delegates were beginning to get restless. Several cast uncertain glances in Devereux's direction, awaiting instructions from her.

Devereux did not seem to notice, so Elizabeth decided to take action before the members of the crowd began to act on their own.

"Captain," Elizabeth announced in a voice that she hoped would get Devereux's attention without sounding insubordinate. "The Chief says that he's ready for us."

Devereux turned and focused on her. The Captain seemed to relax and gave her a subtle, but grateful smile. Elizabeth felt a warm flush of satisfaction—and relief—that she seemed to have made the right decision.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Devereux said. The Captain straightened, regaining her customary posture of self-assurance. She gestured toward the hatchway. "Shall we proceed then?"

The delegates exchanged quick, but mostly silent, glances among themselves and then proceeded past Devereux into the corridor. Elizabeth trailed them, finally ending up standing next to the Captain. Devereux' head dipped in a slight nod, once again indicating her approval of the young lieutenant's actions. After looking back at Hope one more time, Devereux turned and followed the delegates out of the infirmary.

Elizabeth paused a moment as well and also looked back at the Medical Officer. Hope stared back at her, her expression revealing little as always. Elizabeth met her gaze, but after a few moments of learning nothing more, she too left the chamber.

Ship's Log: November 27

He stopped at one of the junction panels and paused, recalling the report he had thrust back at Choy. He now wished that he had been a little less rash and brought it with him, but he was fairly certain that this was one of the locations that had been listed in the report. Neither Aruna nor Benitez objected as he began to unfasten the access panel.

It took only a few moments. The two techs waited silently behind, offering no advice or assistance. Rusty felt a faint pang of guilt for his behavior on the Engineering Deck, but he shunted it aside, focusing instead on his work.

His initial inspection produced the same results as were present on Choy's report. He frowned, mentally tracing the power conduits and data lines that ran through this bulkhead. Peering down into the narrow space, he studied the clusters of cables. While it was a relatively neat tangle of connections, it would be very difficult to detect whether someone had been tampering with any of them solely by visually inspecting them. The power and other emissions readings might provide a better indication something was truly amiss in there are not.

"Aruna," Rusty called out. "Have someone send some test pulses through these lines here," he told her, pointing toward two specific collections of cables and connections. He saw her remove her communications unit from her waist and speak into it.

"Ready when you are, Chief," she reported after a moment. She appeared to have relaxed somewhat after being given something to do.

"Tell them to go ahead," Rusty said. "I'll let you know when I'm done."

Aruna nodded and said something into her comm unit. Rusty turned and withdrew a small scanner from the tool case he had taken from Engineering. There was a faint, modulated hum from the interior of the access compartment in front of him. He activated the scanner and waited, watching the scanner's small display.

After several moments, he frowned, having found nothing unusual in the readings from the scanner. He was about to return the device to the case when an idea occurred to him.

"Aruna," he called to the tech again. "Have them do it again. But this time," he explained, "have them send some of the pulses at a level slightly higher than we'd see during normal operations." At Aruna's troubled expression, he added, "I don't want them to exceed specs," he said. "Just higher than we normally see."

"I understand, Chief," she said quietly, and relayed his instructions.

After a few moments' delay, he heard the modulated hum return. This time, there were definite peaks in the sounds as the power was periodically increased. He repeated his actions from before, intently studying the scanner's display.

This time, a faint smile of satisfaction formed on his lips. He nodded slowly, as if it had all become completely clear to him.

"That's enough," he said, turning toward Aruna with a genuine smile. "Have them restore normal operations for now, but continue monitoring."

"Yes, Chief," Aruna responded crisply, Her expression looked more relaxed. She almost smiled in return.

Rusty looked down at the scanner almost lovingly. He grinned before turning back to face the two techs. "You two put this back together and then report back to Engineering," he told them. "I'm going crash a party."

Ship's Log: November 26

Tarkanan looked at her with open curiosity, smiling with interest.

Devereux surprised herself by managing to maintain eye contact as she told him, "My Tactical Officer believes that might represent some kind of danger to me."

The Heftaur looked thoughtful. After a moment, he met her gaze squarely. "He is correct."

Devereux noted that there was no trace of a smile on Tarkanan's lips as he said this. Yet, there was also nothing threatening in his posture either. If he was preparing to initiate an attack on her, he was hiding it well. He must have recognized that she was studying him for he broke into a gentle smile.

"I intend no harm to you, Captain," he went on. "Nor to your ship or any member of your crew."

She felt a sense of relief and allowed herself to relax slightly. Something about their exchange, though, still troubled her. She tried to dismiss it as lingering doubts from her conversation with Hawkes. If there were baseless, she decided, she doubted that Tarkanan would be offended by her questions. Based on her experience with the Heftaur ambassador so far, she had trouble imagining what he might find offensive. She suspected that honesty was not among them.

"I believe you," she told him gravely, her eyes searching his. "The question is: Do you intend to harm anyone else?"

There was only the briefest pause before Tarkanan answered. "No, Captain, I do not." His expression was as serious as Devereux had ever seen it.

Devereux frowned. "But there's something?"

Tarkanan met her eyes. She saw something almost haunted in them as he spoke. "I intend no violence, Captain," he said. His voice was soft, almost halting in its cadence, as if he were exercising considerable restraint. "However," he went on, "I fear that it will be difficult to avoid all violence."

Devereux continued to study the Heftaur elder's face, but his expression gave her no further clue as to what he meant. She suspected that he referred to the considerable tensions between the different diplomatic parties, but his disquiet seemed to come from something or somewhere far deeper.

A long moment passed during which neither Devereux nor Tarkanan spoke. Then, like a sun burning away fog, Tarkanan's smile returned.

"Shall we continue, Captain?"

#

[during the reception]

Rusty stared down at the report Choy had given him. He had already been placed in a less than pleasant frame of mind by the Captain's refusal to let him attend the reception, now his engineering team's investigation had failed to provide any reason for the erratic system malfunctions that had been plaguing the ship's systems during the past few days. Privately, Rusty suspected that someone from one of the diplomatic delegations was responsible. So far, though he had no proof to support his suspicions, nor in fact any evidence of what was causing the recurring malfunctions—as minor as they were—in the first place.

Although he noted that Choy remained several paces away from him as he read the results again, he chose to ignore it, not even attempting to soften his irritated stance.

"Nothing, huh?" he asked. He knew his tone sounded harsh; he did not care.

"No, Chief," Choy answered him, almost meekly. She swallowed and then said, "Nothing happened while we were there, so it was hard to trace back to a root cause."

Rusty thrust the tablet back at her. She flinched before reaching out to take it. He felt mildly guilty for her reaction, but not enough to make even a faint gesture of apology.

"I guess I'll have to do it myself," he announced, his words coming out in almost a snarl. She stared at Choy. "Stay here." He turned and looked around. "Aruna, Benitez, you're with me." He caught a glimpse of Choy's crushed expression, but only shook his head and reached for a nearby tool case. He headed for the hatch with Aruna and Benitez close on his heels.

The trio said nothing as Rusty led them down the passageways. He sensed rather than saw them exchange several uneasy glances. Good, he thought. Keep 'em on their toes.

Ship's Log: November 25

Devereux stared at Hawkes intently. Were he not so earnest in his judgment, she might have laughed out loud. As it was, she could not completely suppress a light chuckle. "You're quite certain about that?"

The Tactical Officer met her gaze squarely. "I am, Captain."

Lowering her head in order to hide a smile, Devereux said, "I'll take that under advisement, Lieutenant." She swallowed back another soft chuckle and then looked back at him. "Is there anything else?"

Hawkes seemed mildly troubled as he answered, "Nothing else at this time, Captain."

Devereux studied the older man's expression for a moment before nodding. "Your concern is duly noted," she told him sincerely. When he said nothing else, she deactivated the privacy shield.

Hawkes stood stiffly at attention for a moment and then turned and exited down the ramp. Devereux watched as he resumed his position at the Tactical station. Shaking her head, she allowed herself a small smile before returning to her reports.

#

[some time later]

Devereux entered the cargo bay already dressed in her exercise wear: a sleeveless, form-fitting top that left her stomach bare and a pair of equally tight shorts. In retrospect, she was not exactly sure why she had chosen that outfit over a more loosely fitting one. Either would have provided her with an equal freedom of movement, she knew. It was not as though she was trying to draw attention to her feminine attributes to Tarkanan, she told herself. Or was she? She dismissed the idea quickly, reminding herself that not only was he an alien, but it would be a severe breach of protocol, particularly considering the delicate political situation on the ship.

"My apologies for being late, Ambassador," she announced as she stepped through the hatchway. She stopped suddenly, and then felt a wash of relief that he seemed to be alone in the compartment.

Tarkanan smiled warmly at her, his eyes traveling only to meet hers. "I'm certain your duties detained you."

Devereux chuckled softly as she tossed her towel onto a nearby bench. "Something like that."

Tarkanan tilted his head in a brief nod, watching her as she moved to stand next to him. Although he was only a few centimeters taller than she was, his broadly muscled physique made her feel almost dwarfed.

He smiled at her. "Shall we begin?"

Devereux nodded and assumed what she remembered as the first position he had taught her in an earlier session. Beside her, he shifted his body into the same pose. She adjusted the angle of her left foot, paused, and then began forming the next position.

They continued for several minutes in silence. Devereux was surprised to find that she felt slightly unsteady. More than once, she caught herself moving awkwardly from form to form. It should be easier than this, she thought. It might be alien,but it's not that different from other postures I've learned.

At one point, during what was not a particularly difficult transition, she stumbled and finally stood up straight, trying not to express annoyance at her apparent clumsiness.

"You seem distracted, Captain," Tarkanan's gentle tones sounded from behind her.

Devereux managed a quick chuckle. "I suppose I am." She sighed. "I'm sorry, Ambassador," she said, turning to face him. "I know it helps to have your mind free," she added, giving him an apologetic smile. "But my mind seems to have, well, a mind of its own today."

Tarkanan smiled at her, nodding with understanding. "Some days are more difficult than others," he agreed. "Perhaps you wish to discuss it?"

Devereux nearly froze. A frown formed on her face as she studied the Heftaur's expression. Was that a subtle attempt at getting information? She saw only the warm, genuine smile and look of concern on the Heftaur's face. Damned Hawkes!, she swore silently. Now he's got me seeing conspiracies everywhere too.

Managing a smile of her own, Devereux gave a quiet laugh. "It's funny you should ask," she told him.

Ship's Log: November 24

[a day or so later]

Devereux became aware of Hawkes' presence as she was completing a much-delayed report for Command. She had needed something to keep her mind off the current situation for a little while and long-neglected paperwork had seemed just the thing. He had not announced himself, which was in itself somewhat unusual, but then the past few days had been filled with things not quite ordinary. After climbing the short ramp up to the command deck, he waited patiently for her attention. He stood almost at attention, but Devereux noticed that he was not quite still.

Oh, by the goddess, she considered with silent surprise. Is he actually fidgeting? It would have likely gone entirely unnoticed by someone unfamiliar with her Tactical Officer and his habits, but it raised in her a sense of both concern and, she had to admit, bemusement. She turned to face him with only the barest hint of a smile.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant?" She studied his expression as she asked him, looking for further clues to the source of the man's discomfiture. Based on only a moment's thought, she found it difficult to recall many other occasions where the older officer had behaved this way.

"If I may, Captain," he began. "I would like a word with you."

Devereux's eyes remained on Hawkes' face. He refused to meet her eyes, she noticed. Had it been anyone else, she would have made an analogy to a child about to confess to disobedience. She nodded slowly, never letting her gaze move from him. "Go ahead, Lieutenant."

The older man swallowed before speaking. If Devereux did not know better, she would have sworn that the man was stalling, trying to avoid delivering some uncomfortable news. Her thoughts began to race through several possibilities, most of which should have raised a greater reaction than this from the Tactical Officer.

"A certain degree of privacy might be advisable, Captain," Hawkes suggested quietly, his eyes darting momentarily to the controls for the privacy screen.

By now, Devereux was beginning to feel mildly annoyed. She complied, however, telling herself that it was merely to bring a quick end to the mystery.

"Okay, Lieutenant," she told him evenly. "I'm listening."

Hawkes swallowed again before he spoke. "Captain," he began, "it's been reported that you have been spending considerable time with the Heftaur ambassador."

Devereux felt her throat tighten with restrained anger. She paused before responding, telling herself not to overreact until she had all the facts about the situation. Taking a slow breath, she managed to give the Tactical a brief chuckle and a quick smile.

"I wouldn't say 'considerable'," she said. "But, yes, some."

"Are you sure that's wise, Captain?"

Devereux stared hard at Hawkes. There was nothing sharp or accusatory in the older officer's tone. His expression betrayed nothing other than a sincere concern.

"I wasn't aware, Lieutenant, that my personal activities were subject to such scrutiny." She no longer bothered to keep her growing irritation out of her voice.

Hawkes stiffened slightly. "Under normal circumstances," Hawkes explained, "they would not be." He paused a moment, his lips tightening to a thin line. "He could represent a considerable danger to you, Captain."

Ship's Log: November 23

Tarkanan would bear further watching, Hawkes decided. He moved with the ease of someone highly skilled in martial arts; his heavily-muscled physique spoke of considerable training and strength. Devereux was quite skilled, Hawkes knew, but it was possible that she would be no match for Heftaur given his greater size and mass. Hawkes said none of this to the officer stationed outside the ambassador's door. Instead, he only gave the woman the slightest nod and moved on down the corridor.

The guard he passed was positioned near the quarters provided to the Aerian delegation. While he had not witnessed it, word of the encounter in the infirmary had traveled quickly throughout the ship. Not wholly surprising, information through the various channels of the diplomatic parties traveled only slightly less quickly than through the ship's more informal gossip network. Hawkes had heard several renditions of the incident and, while most varied on the details, they were all consistent on the overall events.

Odd business that, Hawkes considered once again. He had been particularly taken by the Aerian Medical Officer, but the Captain seemed to trust her implicitly. Hope had never done anything in particular to arouse any particular suspicions, other than to keep almost exclusively to herself, even at mealtimes. Hawkes could hardly fault her in this. Were he given the choice, he would also prefer to limit his off-duty contact with the rest of the crew to a bare minimum. The Captain, however, had been quite clear in her early orders to him. In noticing his apparent reticence with the crew, she had informed him that ranking officers would informally interact with the other crewmembers whenever possible. While it might run against any protocol—official or private—that he might normally adhere to, she had discovered that it made for more efficient operations on a small ship. He had reluctantly agreed, but had never really come to enjoy it.

This business with the Star Blood, he decided, definitely warranted further looking into. He made a mental note to brush up on his knowledge of Aerian culture and customs. Although he had done so when he had first learned about the Emerald Flight's Medical Officer's origin, he now suspected that his research had not been as thorough as it had needed to be. What made the matter even more troublesome was that, according to almost all reports, the Captain had been as surprised as the delegates by the incident.

Given everything that was happening, Hawkes would be relieved when all of the diplomats and their baggage—persons and cargo alike—where transferred to their new transport. Maintaining security on the Emerald Flight during regular operations was a routine and minor activity. He preferred it that way. In the meantime, though, he would maintain the vigilance that the circumstances required. He supposed that he should find the change invigorating, or at least mildly diverting. Instead, he realized, he found it a bothersome nuisance.

Ship's Log: November 22

[back to Hawkes]

Finding quarters for all of the diplomatic parties had been, to say the least, challenging. He had insisted on keeping the accommodations for each as far apart as possible, reducing the opportunities for the more unfriendly factions to "accidentally" encounter one another. Although the size of the ship made it almost impossible to avoid all such encounters, they had managed to provide some distance between each set of diplomats.

He passed the quarters given to the Arctican delegates. The security officer stationed outside the hatch straightened, but did not salute as Hawkes strode by. Assigning a security detail outside every diplomat's door, and at strategic positions throughout the ship, had strained the limits of the Emerald Flight's security contingent. On the small ship, the security personnel often assisted with other tasks, usually related to inspection or maintenance. These tasks would remain delayed or undone for the next several days. Hawkes restrained himself from betraying even a hint of a smile. Chief Rayna had offered several complaints and alternatives, all of which the Captain properly rejected. About time that drunkard and addict pulled his weight around here.

Hawkes had never completely understood Devereux's selection of the man for her Engineering Chief, nor why she allowed him to remain both on board and in that position after several incidents that should have called for a court martial. Hawkes' few attempts to broach the subject had been met with pointed evasion and even sharper looks. What little research the Tactical Officer had been able to complete on his own, the bulk of the personnel records being off-limits even to him in his capacity as Head of Security, raised more questions than they answered.

Coming around the next curve in the passage way, he found the next security officer at her position near the Heftaur ambassador's cabin. Now there's an interesting one, Hawkes thought. He travels alone and without weapons or significant personal cargo. These facts sounded several alarms in the Tactical Officer's mind. He appeared harmless enough, but Hawkes' experience had shown him repeatedly that such appearances could be more than deceiving—they could be deadly.

He remembered hearing that Heftaur ambassador had been speaking with the Captain at length during the reception. No one present could remember of the two, though, who had approached whom first. Tarkanan's dossier claimed that he was a member of a pacifist clan, but Hawkes wondered that truly meant on the ambassador's world. Even if it were strictly true, surely Tarkanan must carry some grudge against the Arcticans for their occupation of the Heftaur world.

Ship's Log: November 20

She was satisfied with this, but suspected that it was almost a certainty that she would face questions about this incident from the Captain. Had it been only the Captain, she might have acknowledged the circumstances and offered explanations, but it had been witnessed by other members of the crew and the visiting delegates. That would make the situation quite a bit more difficult to manage.

Hope almost expressed visible relief when Elizabeth spoke, suggesting that the group move to the Engineering section. She caught Devereux's final glance as the Captain left, telling her that Devereux would be returning for an explanation. Hope could only hope that the delegates' needs would delay that encounter for quite some time.

#

[prior to the reception]

"Well, I'll just have to put on my Sunday best." Rusty grinned at Devereux as she delivered her report about the reception she had been ordered to host for the delegates.

"You won't be attending, Chief," she said quietly. She meant to deliver the news with as little rancor as possible. She thought she had succeeded, but the expression on Rusty's face told her that he had taken the news as badly as she had feared that he might.

"You said all rank officers," he protested. Although quiet, there was a sharp edge to his tone. Not disrespectful, but definitely accusatory.

He seemed angrier than he should have, Devereux thought. "I need you in Engineering, Chief," she told him, with only the barest hint of a soothing tone. She knew that he would detect, and no doubt react badly, if he believed her to be condescending. "We don't the same thing happening to us that happened to the Ariel."

"Not a chance, Cap'n," he refuted her statement. "We have an entirely type of drive system: smaller, more modern."

"They're still both Raynes-class drives, are they not?"

"Yes," Rusty admitted sullenly. "But there's differences."

"Enough that you can guarantee that we can't possibly suffer the same failures?"

There was a brief pause before Rusty sighed and admitted quietly, "No, ma'am."

"Then I need you here," she concluded. Her tone was firm, but not raised.

She studied Rusty's expression for a long moment before adding quietly, almost gently, "You have your orders, Chief," she said. "Just like we all do." She gave him a quick smile and then turned and exited his office.

"Sure," he whispered sourly, "but yours come with champagne and hors d'oeuvres."

Ship's Log: November 19

[at some point after the delegates have arrived]

Hawkes walked the corridors, making the second of his thrice-daily inspections of the security arrangements. He depended on the security officers to follow their orders, but given the situation, he was taking no chances at any lapses in the security protocols. However inconvenient or restrictive any of the delegates or their staff members might find them, he had no intention of making any exceptions without the Captain's express order. Even then, he intended to remind her of the need of extreme caution before acting on such orders.

#

Hope watched the Star Blood kneel before her. His aides followed his lead, as she knew they must. Ever since hearing that he would be on board she had known that this incident had been inevitable. She had suspected that the Star Blood had not known about her presence about this ship, or he would likely have sought her out before now. She had avoided the reception to prevent just such an occurrence.

There was no mistaking the surprise and shock on the Captain's face. The Lieutenant seemed equally perplexed, but demonstrated it differently. Awkward murmurs came from the other members of the small group. Despite having no desire to be so, she and Star Blood were at the center of everyone's attention. She had no choice but to play out the ritual.

"We had no wish to intrude, <Revered One>," Star Blood said, keeping his head lowered as to not face her until given explicit permission to do so. "We seek your forgiveness and <blessing>."

Hope had no wish to encourage him further in this behavior, but could see few alternatives under the current circumstances. He was probably wondering, she suspected, why the others had not bowed to her as well. She wanted to disabuse him of such ideas. To do so know though, in front of the others, would only damage his honor and standing. It would have to wait until another time and place.

"Rise," she told him, speaking in her native Aerian tongue. "Forgiveness is not required." When he did not move, she repeated a bit more sharply, "Rise."

The Star Blood rose from where he knelt before her, but never raised his head to look at her. He turned and issued a quick command to his aides, who rose from their knees as well, also avoiding all eye contact with her.

Ship's Log: November 18

Devereux felt a strange sense of déjà vu as she looked around at the faces around the conference table. The room had long since been cleared of the decorations and furnishings from the reception. It looked the same as it always had. Even though, it had been scrubbed and deodorized, Devereux thought she could still catch the faint remnant of a lingering odor that was not normally there. She suspected that it was her mind and memory playing tricks on her.

Although no one said it aloud, she could it read it on nearly every face. Hope's expression was, as always, unreadable. Devereux imagined that even her Aerian Medical Officer shared the sentiment with the rest of her crew. Two or three more days?! She could see the realization of the consequences of the announcement taking form in their minds: three more days of crowded quarters, three more days of inquisitive and bored diplomats. There was also the overwhelming sense that they had three more days during which to prevent something igniting an already unstable situation into an explosive one.

She turned toward Hawkes, who seemed to be handling the situation with his typical calm and collected professionalism. "The security restrictions will need to remain in place, of course."

Hawkes nodded his agreement. "Of course, Captain," he said. "And patrols during all duty shifts will continue." He paused thoughtfully. "It might be necessary to even increase them."

Devereux met his gaze, trying to decide whether she was prepared to take that extra step. For all she knew, increased security might be just the spark that set off one or more of the delegates. "Let's see if it comes to that," she finally said. "But keep extra security personnel on alert."

Hawkes' nod of acknowledgment was barely perceptible. "Yes, Captain."

Turning, Devereux stared out the expansive viewport for a moment. Her mind went briefly to the scene of the reception before returning to the present moment. She turned back to face the others. "We'd better find some ways to keep our guests entertained as well," she said. "I'm open to suggestions, as I think we've pretty much exhausted tours of the ship and I think hosting another dinner party is just asking for new trouble."

There were several pensive looks from those seated, but no one spoke up. Devereux turned to Elizabeth with a sly smile. "Lieutenant," she told the young officer, "you're in charge of entertainment for the next few days."

Elizabeth looked as if she had been assigned to the sewage maintenance system. Devereux supposed, given the current circumstances, that duty might actually be preferable to dealing with the diplomats and their various contingents over the next few days. The young lieutenant quickly altered her expression, pleasing Devereux, so that it did not reveal more than a hint of anxiety over her new assignment.

"Anything else?" Devereux asked the group at large. In response, she received only a scattered shaking of heads. Managing a thin smile, she added, "I'm sure things will present themselves in the days ahead." She paused to take a quick survey of those gathered there. "Dismissed."

Her officers stood and made their way through the hatchway and out into the corridor beyond. The mood was somber, but Devereux was at a loss on how to lighten it at just that moment. She allowed the group to disperse to their various duties before exiting the room herself.

Ship's Log: November 17

[much earlier]

"Captain," Elizabeth said quietly. "I'm not sure we have the room for all those people."

Devereux had waited until the start of the first shift to inform her crew of their new assignment. She did, though, call for a meeting immediately after the shift change before the news could leak throughout the ship. That she had called for a meeting so early and with so little warning had already put most of those present on alert.

Devereux gave Elizabeth a weak smile. "I'm not sure we do either," she admitted reluctantly, "but we're going to need to find a way to make it work." She turned to address the others. "We're the only ship even close to having enough space to house all of the delegates," she explained. "The alternative is to leave them all on the Ariel for another two weeks." She paused, grimacing slightly. "Colonel Martinez believes that's not really a viable option. There might not be any delegates left at the end of two weeks to transport anywhere."

A mixture of quiet chuckles and murmured concern made its way around the table. She surveyed those present to gauge who had given which reaction. "We’ve got a lot of work to do," she announced, "and not enough time to do it all." She looked down at her tablet before turning her attention back to those seated around her. "We need to clear out Cargo Two," she began. "Crewmembers below command rank will need to share quarters for the duration." She frowned slightly, checking her tablet again. "I think that should give us enough space for everyone." Her gaze surveyed the interior of the conference room. "And we'll need to re-arrange this area so it can manage a banquet."

"They're taking over our ship and you're treating them to a buffet?" Rusty asked, sounding both indignant and amused.

Devereux gave him a wry smile. "It's my duty as Captain, apparently, to host a reception for the diplomats." She took a long, slow breath. "Look at it this way," she said. "It'll give us all something to do to pass the time." She ignored the sighing breaths and barely concealed rolling of eyes, turning her attention to Hawkes, who expressed neither of those reactions.

"I suspect that you already know that we'll need added security," she said to the older officer.

Hawkes nodded, his features seeming carved from stone. "Yes, Captain," he told her. "We'll implement full security protocols."

"Good," Devereux said. She paused for a moment, frowning. "I imagine they'll have their own security contingent as well."

"Most likely," Hawkes agreed. "Although I recommend that they also be given limited access while on board."

"Agreed," Devereux said. She surveyed the faces around the table. "Okay," she said firmly, "Let's get to work, everyone."

Elizabeth, Rusty, and Hawkes filed out of the conference room. Devereux fell into step beside Hope as the two exited.

"You didn't say much," Devereux told her.

Hope turned toward Devereux. "You did not request a report."

Devereux frowned, realizing her omission. "Did you have one?"

"No."

Devereux stared at Hope for a moment, fighting back a small swell of annoyance and disbelief. Hope stared placidly back at her.

"I will prepare the infirmary."

Devereux's frown deepened. "For what?"

Hope's expression was unreadable. "For non-human casualties."

Ship's Log: November 16

Elizabeth closed the final clasp on her uniform and then turned to study herself in the full-length mirror. She still felt a flush of pride in seeing herself in her dress uniform. The occasions when she had needed to wear it had been so far been few, but it symbolized everything she had worked for in getting through the Academy. Her reflection revealed her smile and she tried to fight it back, feeling somewhat both guilty and childish for having one.

She brushed at her shoulder, wiping away an imaginary piece of lint that she was convinced had been there. Checking her reflection again, she noted again how the deep violet of her uniform complemented her eyes. She knew it was somewhat silly, but she privately believed that it was good that she had made the right decision—not only for the choosing to attend the Academy, but also for accepting this posting.

Checking herself one last time, she shut off the overhead light. She was both nervous and excited about attending the reception. During her studies, she had researched many of the aliens who were part of the diplomatic contingent and their cultures. It was the first time, though, that she had ever encountered some of them in person. The Arcticans, in particular, were not prone to casual forays into Terran space. Part of her could not help but feel a small swell of pride that she would be attending the gathering as an officer of the fleet, not a civilian observer.

Without turning on the light, she checked her hair one final time, ensuring that all of it remained in place. She had considered going with something more elegant, but decided against it as she told herself that she would be appearing in uniform, not an evening gown. Tugging at her cuffs a last time, she left her quarters, heading for what promised to be very interesting evening.

She arrived a few minutes early. The crewmembers working to cater the event were just finishing. None of the delegates had yet arrived. Elizabeth had little experience with such events, but she imagined that each group would arrive with some measure of fanfare. She was surprised to find that the Captain had not yet arrived to oversee the final preparations. She's probably held up by something, Elizabeth told herself and started wandering over to where the crewmembers were putting on the last touches.

"Is it all right, Lieutenant?"

It took Elizabeth a moment to realize that the ensign who had asked her was doing so out of concern rather than an attempt at conversation or simply seeking praise. Elizabeth surveyed the arrangements before turning to smile at the worried ensign.

"Looks fine to me," she answered, silently scolding herself for not remembering the ensign's name.

The ensign brightened and looked genuinely relieved by Elizabeth's assessment. She turned away and began to work on other preparations.

The moment felt awkward to Elizabeth. It was not that long ago, she realized, when she had carried that rank. The occasion of her promotion had been both exciting and unexpected. While she had known that she had been performing her duties well, she had assumed that it would be nearly a year at least before she might have a chance at a higher rank. She had heard of some officers doing it in less time, but she had set her sights realistically. Although it felt good to wear the new insignia, she had not felt fundamentally different. She still did basically the same job and, with a crew this size, the boundaries of rank sometimes fell away when a job needed done. On more than one occasion, she had seen the captain up to her armpits in cables and various engineering fluids.

She heard footsteps behind her, recognized them as the sound of regulation dress uniform boots. Turning, she hoped to see either the Chief or the Captain, forgetting for the moment that Devereux had given the Chief specific orders to remain on duty in Engineering. Smiling slightly to herself, she wondered if the Chief would find some excuse to make an appearance on the pretense of needing to discuss something with the Captain.

Ship's Log: November 15

Devereux found that she could not help but be charmed by the Heftaur's warm sincerity. She gave him a genuine smile and pushed her plate away. Tarkanan watched her with mild concern.

"You're no longer hungry?"

"I don't need the calories," Devereux replied, chuckling softly. Her tunic suddenly felt tight again.

Tarkanan nodded briefly and turned his attention once more to the assortment on his own platter. Something told Devereux that he did not completely understand her reply, but she felt disinclined to explain it. Her felt her cheeks warm slightly and tried to ignore it.

"There is such variety among your foods," Tarkanan remarked, picking up a piece of something deeply purple on the edges. "And in the way that you prepare them."

"I suppose so," Devereux said with any mild interest. "I guess that comes from having so many different cultures and ways of cooking things." She lifted her cup. "I'm sure it's the same on your world."

"There is some variety, yes," Tarkanan said, giving her a slight smile. "But our climate did not support the diversity of vegetation that yours does, so the choice of main ingredients was somewhat limited."

Devereux nodded, giving him a knowing smile in spite of herself. She recalled her mother's brief obsession with all things squash. Her mother had demonstrated great skill and imagination in the varied means in which she had discovered—and invented—to prepare it. In the end, though, Devereux had decided it was still squash—one of the most uninteresting vegetables to begin with. The memory did spark her recollection of something she had learned at some point in her education. She looked toward Tarkanan.

"That must have dangerous," she said. "If something affected those crops, it could have spread easily worldwide."

Tarkanan nodded slowly. "Yes," he told her. "That was always a concern, particularly in the more ancient times." His face lifted; Devereux saw that he was still smiling. "But even in those days we understood the needs of our world, so times of famine and hunger were rare." An unusual dullness crept into his eyes that surprised Devereux. "It was not until those from other worlds made contact with us did those problems become more frequent and severe."

After a moment, the familiar sparkle returned to his gaze. He reached for another morsel from his plate, looking back at Devereux. "Your people have never been anything less than cordial to mine," he offered.

Cordial? Devereux considered. An interesting choice of words. She suspected that, although her language was certainly not Tarkanan's native one, he typically chose his words with great care. There could possibly be many intended meanings any time he spoke. Or, Devereux reminded herself, he might simply be using vocabulary that he understood and there was nothing more to it than what was said. I've been spending too much time around the politicians and diplomats, she chided herself silently. It's making me paranoid.

"Ambassador . . ." she began. She was interrupted by the shrill call of the shipwide intercom.

"Security team to the Infirmary," came Hawke's voice. "Captain Devereux, please contact the bridge."

Devereux sighed and gave Tarkanan an apologetic look. She pulled out her comm unit. "Devereux. What's going on, Lieutenant?"

"There has been an incident in the Infirmary, Captain," Hawkes reported calmly. His tone was almost mechanical, as if he were reciting technical specifications. "Involving some of the delegates," he added.

Devereux grimaced. Only two more days, she thought. "I'm on my way, Lieutenant," she told him.

"Very good, Captain," Hawkes acknowledged. "Bridge out."

Devereux turned to face Tarkanan. "My apologies once again, Ambassador." She gave him a weak smile.

His smile was warm and genuine. "You have your duties, Captain," he offered calmly. "I understand."

Devereux released a small laugh, rose, and headed for the hatchway.

#

Devereux arrived to a scene of barely contained chaos. She found the security team holding the Star Blood's two aides in relative custody. They held their weapons trained at the Aerians, but neither group appeared particularly comfortable with the situation. Rusty was on the deck, blood streaming from his mouth and nose. There was a dark streak across his shirt that might also have been blood, but Devereux could not tell for certain at first glance. The Star Blood stood across the room, looking slightly disheveled, but seemed to be uninjured. Hope stood in the midst of the scene, looking to Devereux as though she was preparing to scold the Star Blood. It was something in her posture, Devereux decided, for her Medical Officer's expression appeared as unreadable as ever.

Another two security officers stood near Rusty, but poised as if uncertain how at act. They looked toward Devereux as she entered, relief readily evident on their faces. She stopped, taking in the situation, allowing her expression to fall into something more rigid and commanding.

"I'm certain," she said coldly, "that someone has an explanation for this." Her gaze swept over them all, skipping over the faces of the security officers, and lingering for a moment on everyone else.

Star Blood straightened and stared at her. "He committed <blasphemy>."

His hand pointed toward Rusty, who remained seated on the deck. His returning gaze at Star Blood bordered on defiant, but Devereux could see more than a slight trace of humor there was well.

"I see," Devereux said evenly. She could not make out the last word that the Star Blood said, but she could find out what it was later if the course of this conversation did not reveal its meaning, "And that's the reason to attack a member of my crew?"

Star Blood stared at her. "It is a <sin> worthy of death," he stated. His tone betrayed his anger. "It is only through the intervention of the that he did not suffer such a fate." He turned to glare at Rusty. Something in his harsh stare told Devereux that, even with Hope's intercession, the Star Blood did not consider the matter closed.

"Are you injured, Star Blood?" Devereux asked, trying to maintain an even and diplomatic tone.

A sound somewhere between a growl and a snort came from the Star Blood. "He is incapable of harming me." Devereux could see that much of his earlier bravado had returned. While she doubted his claim in its entirety, she was convinced that at this moment he had suffered little more harm than a disarray of his dark mane.

Devereux turned to Hope. "Check the Chief, please."

Hope's head dipped slightly. Her voice was quiet. "Yes, Captain."

"You would attend his wounds after his <sin>?" The Star Blood asked, his voice heavy with incredulity.

Devereux realized that his words were directed at Hope, not her. There's that word again, she thought, wishing that she had a far broader knowledge of Aerian dialects.

Hope did not return his gaze, instead kneeling to examine Rusty's injuries. Devereux noted that the bleeding seem to have slowed, but that gave little real indication of the severity of his wounds Hope passed a portable scanner over Rusty's face and then down along his chest. She continued the sweep across his torso, pausing for a moment over his sternum before turning to look at Devereux.

"Facial contusions," she reported. "Minor nasal fracture. None require significant treatment."

"Like hell!" Rusty blurted out. "That angel of death tried to break my nose!"

Devereux glared at him. He appeared ready to add to his outburst, some at the last moment decided to restrain himself. It was likely that only through sheer luck and his basic combat training, she decided, that the Star Blood had not succeeded in killing him. She nodded and then studied the Star Blood. He remained defiant, but made no move toward her Chief Engineer. She turned to the security detachment. "Please escort the Star Blood and his aides back to their quarters," she instructed them. "They are to remain there until further notice." As the guards moved to obey her, she added, "They are to have no visitors other than Lieutenant Hawkes or myself, is that clear."

"Yes, Captain," the lead security officer answered her.

"The <Revered One> is not to be kept from us if she so wishes," the Star Blood challenged.

Devereux stared back at him, trying to keep her own anger and frustration from showing. "We'll see," she told him calmly. She nodded to the security officers and they began ushering the trio out of the infirmary.

At this point, Rusty started to rise from the floor. Devereux allowed him to seat himself on the edge of one of the treatment beds before approaching him. Hope stood off to one side, gathering items from a nearby cabinet.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Devereux's tone was calm, but carried just a hint of accusation. Although there was no doubt that the Star Blood and his contingent were inarguably arrogant, she suspected that in some way Rusty had managed to ignite the situation.

Rusty started with his best look of wide-eyed innocence, but then could not maintain it. He broke into a grin, laughing heartily. "Honestly, Cap'n," he said, his voice conveying jocular innocence, "I don't know."

Devereux eyed him carefully. Everything about him seemed to reveal that he was telling the truth—mostly. Relaxing her expression slightly, she told him, "Tell me what happened."

Rusty paused a moment as Hope waved a different device over the lacerations on his face. She stepped aside and he began.

"I was here to check out a problem the doc here was having with one of her stations," he explained, nodding toward one of the research stations across the chamber. "I had the thing apart and I thought fixed when the winged avenger and buddies showed up." He paused a moment and swallowed.

Okay, Devereux thought, here it comes.

"I was chatting with the doc," he went on, "as I always do." His eyes met Devereux's with a mischievous glint. "She's always such a lively conversationalist, you know."

Devereux nodded slowly, encouraging him to continue. She had a sense from experience how their mostly one-way conversation had likely gone.

"Well," Rusty continued hesitantly, "it's possible that I might have said something to Hope that the winged wonder took exception to."

"It's possible," Devereux repeated patiently.

Rusty shrugged. "I didn't know they thought she was some kind of goddess or something." He turned and grinned at her. "Something new for you, doc?"

Hope regarded him without any change in expression.

"What might you have said, Chief?"

Rusty looked thoughtful, although an impish glint remained in his eyes. "Might have been anything, Captain," he said off-handedly. "You know how it is."

Devereux gave him a mild scowl.

"He compared my emotional conduct unfavorably to a bowl of oatmeal."

Devereux looked with surprise at Hope and then back at Rusty, swallowing back a sharp burst of laughter. She knew that she should have been annoyed, and perhaps even slightly angry, but she could she could not fail to recognize the humor in it.

Rusty looked slightly chagrined, but only slightly. "It might have been something like that," he said. "I didn't know they were listening."

"I guess they were," Devereux concluded sourly.

"Guess so," Rusty agreed. "About a second later, his hand hit my face and his buddies looked like they wanted to jump in and help." He turned to Hope and smiled brightly at her. "That's when the doc here hit the alarm and saved my life."

"They would not have taken your life," Hope stated impassively.

Rusty looked at her wide-eyed. "They sure looked like they wanted to," he said. "Particularly the one who took that first swing at me."

"I would not have permitted it."

Rusty favored her with an elfish smile. "Ah, doc," he said playfully. "You do care."

"That's enough, Chief," Devereux said with more than a little exasperation. She nodded to Hope. "Go ahead and take care of him," she said. "I'll see what our friend the Star Blood has to say."

"He is not your friend," Hope warned her flatly.

"No, Hope," Devereux agreed. "He's not." She watched for a moment while Hope began to work on Rusty's injuries. "Chief," she said with a hint of warning, "we'll discuss this later."

Rusty smiled and gave her a quick wink. "Aye, aye, Cap'n."

Devereux favored him with a mild glare before turning and exiting the infirmary.

Ship's Log: November 14

In the converted cargo hold that had played host to the delegate's reception just a few hours before, Devereux sat alone at one of the remaining tables. She picked at, rather than ate, a leftover pastry. A lukewarm cup of tea sat in front of her. Her thoughts were far from the remnants of the dessert before her.

Tarkanan entered the empty room and surveyed the remains of the meal. With a slight, but pleased smile he picked up a platter and began placing specific items on it. He did so with a delicate manner that surprised Devereux. After a few moments of gathering select morsels, he seemed satisfied with his choices and moved away from the table.

He paused in front of Devereux. She looked up to see him smiling warmly at her.

"Good evening, Captain," he said. "Would you mind if I join you?"

Devereux considered for a moment refusing, but she could not rally a convincing excuse for her continued solitude. She gave him what she hoped was a somewhat welcoming smile of her own and gestured toward the place in front of her. "Please, Ambassador."

He placed his plate down on the table and situated himself on the seat across from her. As she watched, he picked up a small cube of some white substance. After studying it for a moment, he brought it to his mouth, bit into it and, seemingly satisfied, placed the rest into his mouth. He chewed it briefly, swallowed, and then smiled and looked at Devereux.

"I was looking forward to this opportunity to sample more of your cuisine, Captain," he said, his voice conveying nothing but a sincere sense of contentment. "Your palates seem to be quite different than ours," he explained thoughtfully as he picked out another item from his place. This time it was brown in color with what seemed to be a soft texture. Devereux suspected that it was a slice of fudge from one of the dessert trays and wondered what kind of effect chocolate had on the Heftaur metabolism.

"However," Tarkanan continued, "I find many of your foods to be quite interesting to experience." This time, he did not bother with the preliminaries, instead placing the entire piece immediately into his mouth.

"I'm glad you're enjoying them, Ambassador," Devereux said, managing a weak smile. She was tired and had not really been looking forward to company.

"As am I the pleasure of your company, Captain," Tarkanan said, smiling warmly at her as he considered his next selection from his plate.

Devereux looked at him without expression, trying to determine whether to be annoyed, flattered, or offended. Tarkanan's remark felt genuine, and she had trouble believing that he could behave in any other way. Okay, she told herself, so he's a natural charmer. But she could not convince herself that it was an act, a behavior put on to win her possible affections. Species differences aside, she saw little reason for it. He represented a neutral party in the upcoming negotiations, so he had nothing to gain from trying to elicit her support on his side.

"I’m afraid I'm not particularly good company right now, Ambassador," she countered with equal proportions of politeness and fatigue. "It's been a long day."

Tarkanan smiled at her with gentle understanding. "Of course, Captain," he said. "Which is all the more reason that I'm grateful that you've permitted me to join you."

Ship's Log: November 13

[the evening after the tour]

Devereux stared at the screen, trying to make sense of the sociological survey. The report on the Aerian culture and beliefs contained enough technical jargon, she thought, to test even the most robust translation algorithms. The text seemed to be written in English, but the scientist who authored it appeared to have been determined to present her findings in the most obtuse fashion as possible. During her days at both university and then the Academy, she had suffered through many academic treatises, but this one seemed to be worse than most. Either that, Devereux decided, or she was long out of practice in deciphering these kinds of documents.

It took her a moment to realize that Elizabeth stood waiting just at the top of one of the ramps that led up to the command deck. She turned and gave the young officer a quick smile. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

Elizabeth offered her a digital tablet. "Status reports, Captain."

Devereux accepted the tablet without looking at it. "Thank you, Lieutenant." She paused a moment, studying the young woman's expression. Elizabeth could have just as easily submitted the report from any station on the ship. She saw Elizabeth's eyes dart momentarily toward the display and then quickly away. Devereux mostly suppressed her smile. Without a word, she reached over and brought up the same image on one of the larger screens so that Elizabeth could view it more easily.

Elizabeth gave a guilty start before seeing Devereux's reassuring smile. "Go ahead," Devereux told her. "Maybe you can make more sense out of it than I have so far."

The young lieutenant studied her captain's expression for a quick moment before turned her attention to the screen. A slight frown crossed her features. "You didn't know about this?" Elizabeth sounded genuinely perplexed.

Devereux looked uncomfortably awkward for a moment before replying. "It never really came up before." She caught Elizabeth's expression, sensing what she thought was going through the young officer's mind. You put an Aerian in charge of your infirmary and you didn't bother researching her first? If that was the primary question in Elizabeth's mind, she managed to cover it well, and even surprise Devereux, with her next question.

"How did you and Hope first meet, Captain?" Elizabeth's asked quietly. Her tone conveyed only curiosity, with perhaps a faint hint of amusement. There was certainly nothing even remotely accusatory in it that Devereux could detect.

She paused for a long moment before answering. "That, Lieutenant," she answered with a slow breath, "is a story for another time." She noticed that Elizabeth seemed both disappointed and mildly confused by the response, but she suppressed it quickly.

Devereux turned back to the display that Elizabeth was now studying. "I knew about the Star Bloods, and the Star Wings, and some of their civilian classes," she explained. "And I knew that Hope was different," she went on. "But I didn't realize how different," she added with a wry chuckle. "Until today."

Elizabeth continued to stare at the images on the screen, but Devereux could tell that her thoughts were elsewhere. "He treated her like she was some kind of priestess or something," Elizabeth offered thoughtfully.

"Or something," Devereux agreed softly.

"He said something to her," Elizabeth went on. "And she answered back."

Devereux nodded slowly and gestured toward one of the smaller displays. "I couldn't get a clear translation of all of it," she said. "It sounded like some kind of ritual greeting."

"What part of it did you get?" Elizabeth asked.

"Just this part," Devereux replied, pointing to a short string of words displayed on the screen. "It seems to be what the Star Blood used to address Hope."

Elizabeth read the words and her eyes widened. She looked over at Devereux, who answered her with a slight frown.

"If the translation is correct," Devereux said. "He referred to her as 'Revered One'."

Ship's Log: November 12

[Chapter 1 – maybe]

Captain Christine Devereux had just begun to dream when the chime of her console awakened her. Turning over in her darkened quarters, she blinked until she could focus on the slowly pulsing signal that indicated an urgent incoming message. She tried to think past the sleep-induced fog in her mind. Pushing aside the light covers, she sat up, dully contemplating whether or not to at least slip into her uniform tunic.

Damned visual communications, she swore silently. Still, she considered, it was ship's night here. No reason why whoever had intruded on her sleep shouldn't know it.

She activated the display, opting to keep the background lighting at night levels. Not only might it provide a clue to her caller as to the hour, but it would also serve to shadow her appearance. It took a moment for the image to collect itself on her screen, telling her that it was encrypted as well as high priority. She felt her stomach grow knots—such messages rarely carried good news.

The scattered colors on the display resolved into the familiar face of Colonel Martinez. He smiled warmly at her and then peered a little more closely at the screen. "Good morning, Christine?" His tone carried both humor and a faint question.

"It's actually the middle of the night here, Richard," she said evenly, forcing herself to focus on the screen.

He nodded absently, as if mentally calculating the time difference. "I guess so." He frowned slightly for a moment, and then his smile returned. "In which case, you have my apologies, but this really couldn't wait."

Nothing in his demeanor told her that, whatever the situation was, it was a matter utmost urgency that the signal had indicated. "Well," she said calmly, but not bothering to hide the tiredness from her voice, "I'm up now."

Martinez smiled almost impishly. "So you are." His expression faded into something more serious. "I need your help, Captain," he said gravely.

Devereux noted the change in both his tone and method of addressing her. "Yes, Colonel?" Her earlier unease returned.

"You're aware of the diplomatic conference planned on Sagan One?"

Devereux nodded. "I remember hearing about it," she said. She thought for a moment and then added, "It's supposed to take place soon, isn't it?"

Martinez nodded soberly. "The delegates are en route now, but their transport's run into trouble."

Devereux found herself suddenly alert. "Attacked?"

Shaking his head, Martinez gave her a wan smile. "Nothing so dramatic," he explained. "Their slipstream drive failed. They're adrift until repairs can be made."

"How long?"

"Several days, at least," Martinez said. "We're having the replacement parts couriered to them, but even by slipstream it'll take a few days, plus time to install and calibrate."

Devereux nodded slowly as she considered Martinez's report. While slipstream drives had paved the way for interstellar travel, they remained of uncertain reliability. Lost and stranded ships had become less and less common, but they still happened, often without cause or warning. There were subtleties of slipstream passage that were still not completely understood, even by some of the more advanced starfaring races.

"So you need us to transport the components to them and assist with repairs?" Devereux asked, relaxing slightly. A routine mission, but important enough given the circumstances.

Martinez hesitated before answering. "Not exactly, Christine."

Devereux's stomach tightened once more.

"I need you to ferry the delegates the rest of the way to the conference," Martinez continued. "You're the only FTL ship in the area with enough room to carry them all."

Devereux considered this silently for a moment and then realized the catch. They could accommodate the delegates themselves with some minor shuffling of quarters for the duration, but it also meant bringing on board all of the delegates cargo as well. "Colonel," she began. "It'll be a tight fit. I don't think . . ."

"It'll only be for a few days, Christine," Martinez offered amiably. "Besides, think of this way," he added with a tentative cheerfulness. "You'll have played a part of what is likely to be one of the most historic events of our lifetimes."

Managing to keep her voice even, Devereux said, "I'll try to remember that, Colonel."

Martinez smiled reassuringly at her. "I'm sure you will, Christine." His expression grew serious once more. "Rendezvous with the Ariel," he told her. "I'll send you the coordinates in a secure transmission."

"Understood, Colonel," Devereux acknowledged. "I'll inform the crew."

"Good luck, Captain," Martinez offered. "And who knows, Christine," he added quickly. "It might be fun."

Before Devereux could retort, Martinez closed the channel. His image broke in a scattering of colored static and then the display went dark.

Fun? Devereux thought. That wouldn't have been my first choice of words for it.

She sat in the darkness for several moments before checking the chronometer display. Too damned early, she thought. But she was awake now, and the third shift navigator could just as easily make the necessary course changes rather than waiting for the morning shift. Reaching for her tunic, she started getting dressed.

Ship's Log: November 11

Glancing covertly in their direction, she noted that they stood together, as they had since they had arrived. They seemed to be giving little attention to Rusty's enthusiastic, if somewhat rambling, discourse. The Arcticans however, Devereux noted, seemed to be possess particular interest in her Chief's words. She found this vaguely troubling. The Arcticans possessed technology slightly better than Earth did, so their interest immediately raised her suspicions. She made a mental note to have Hawkes make sure that they were being adequately monitored while aboard her ship. She held little doubt that they were, but it would not hurt to be certain.

She felt something buzzing at her waist. Without looking down, she pulled her comm unit from her belt. She turned her head slightly away from the group, whispering into the unit. "Devereux."

"Captain," Hawkes' voice sounded over the speaker. "You have a Priority message from Command."

Devereux frowned slightly, looking at the gathered delegates. Yet another Priority message could not be good news. "I'll take it in the Chief's office."

"Yes, Captain," Hawkes replied evenly.

Devereux replaced the comm unit on her belt. She caught Elizabeth's inquisitive look. Rusty seemed not to notice the brief interruption. Devereux shook her head very slightly toward Elizabeth, indicating that the lieutenant should remain with the group. Without formally excusing herself, Devereux moved casually in the direction of the Chief Engineer's office, ignoring the curious looks from the engineering crew.

With care, Devereux closed the hatch and then walked over to the main console. She activated the communications channel and entered her security code. There was a pause while the message was routed to her location and the signal was decrypted.

Devereux held herself straight, but sagged internally, as the image of Colonel Martinez's face formed on the screen.

"Christine," Martinez greeted her with a warm smile. "What a pleasure to speak to you again so soon."

The pleasure's all yours, Richard, Devereux thought to herself. She managed a fairly sincere smile of her own. Martinez's warmth was difficult to resist. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"

Martinez chuckled softly at the other end. "All business, eh, Captain?"

Devereux tried not to glare at the colonel. "It's been a busy day, Richard."

Martinez's smile faded, replaced with a small frown. "I'm afraid you're going to be busy a while longer, Christine," he told her. "The Bonaventure's been delayed."

Devereux fought an urge to sigh. She suspected, though, that Martinez sensed it. "How long?"

"No more than three or four extra days."

Three or four? She held her expression steady, resisting an urge to close her eyes tightly and bit her lip to keep herself from screaming it aloud. "I see, Colonel."

Martinez's image smiled gently. "I know it's not what you expected," he offered sympathetically. "But I know you can manage it."

Devereux nodded. "We will, Colonel." She allowed herself a slow breath as she considered how to inform her crew. "Is there anything else?"

Martinez shook his head. "Nothing else for now," he said. "First round of margaritas are on me the next time you're here."

"Two rounds," Devereux countered. "Top drawer."

Martinez chuckled deeply. "Two rounds it is," he agreed. "I'll make sure Sierra gets stock of some of the good tequila."

"You'd better," Devereux warned him with a faint smile. She studied Martinez for a moment, waiting to see if he had anything else to add. When he said nothing, she signed off.

Once she was certain that the channel was closed, she allowed herself the deep sigh she had been holding in. Some of the tension went with it, but she could still feel most of it lingering in her shoulders and lower back. She would have to find time for a brief session with Hope, she told herself, or the next several days would be even worse than they already seemed destined to be.

Staring at the closed hatch, she composed her message to her crew in her mind. Part of her considered just locking herself in here for the remainder of the voyage, but the more rational side of her realized how futile that would be. Lost in those thoughts, she nearly missed the faint, chemical aroma that wafted from somewhere near the desk. She sniffed lightly, wincing slightly at the sharp odor. Peering down, she caught sight of a small, plastic cylinder. It was empty, but the interior was lightly dusted with some kind of substance. She brought it near her nose, inhaled very lightly, and then resisted the urge to smash it against the deck. Damn you, Rusty! She took a slow, deep breath to calm herself and then pocketed the small container.

Straightening her posture, she pasted a genial smile on her face, opened the hatch, and went back to join the group of touring delegates.

Ship's Log: November 10

Devereux watched the entire incident, trying to comprehend what had just taken place. The others remained silent behind her as the Star Blood and his aides rose and turned back toward her. Their expressions had entirely changed. Gone was the hauteur of the previous hours, replaced by something faintly resembling respect and perhaps even awe.

Fighting back a growing sense of absurdity, Devereux told herself that she was no expert at reading Aerian emotions, and certainly not those of the Star Blood. From behind her came a voice pitched just high to break the silence, but not loud enough to be completely shattering.

"Captain," Elizabeth announced gently. "The Chief says that he's ready for us."

Devereux turned and managed to focus on Elizabeth. "Thank you, Lieutenant." She straightened, putting on a posture of assurance and command. "Shall we proceed then?" she asked the delegates. Without waiting for a response, she headed back toward the infirmary entrance. The others followed in subdued silence back into the corridor.

As the Aerians filed past her, Devereux regarded them carefully. Their demeanor had changed completely. They appeared solemn, almost subservient. She wondered how long it would last. Before exiting herself, Devereux cast one more glance in Hope's direction. Her Medical Officer regarded her without expression.

#

Devereux paused outside the main hatch to Engineering. She considered trying to invent a reason to go on ahead, to ensure that everything was, in fact, ready for the delegates' tour. Failing to find a reasonable excuse, she nodded to Elizabeth to open the hatch and closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the worst and silently hoping for the best.

The group was greeted by the sound of active equipment. The voices of the technicians were hushed, raised only enough to be heard. Devereux peered tentatively inside and received yet another to add to the long list of surprises for the day.

Rusty had the available members of the engineering team standing in two parallel lines, each facing inward as the delegates stepped into the room. They all stood at attention, their eyes staring forward without looking at the delegates as they moved past. At the end of twin rows stood Rusty, who faced toward the approaching party.

To Devereux's surprise, not only was the Chief Engineer dressed completely in his on-duty uniform, but it looked as if it had been recently laundered. Although Devereux could not tell for certain from the distance, it seemed as though he had shaved thoroughly as well. She felt a growing warmth of relief and pride. A new smile formed on her lips. Part of her, however, remained suspicious and wary.

She led the group through the twin lines formed by the engineering crew, stopping in front of Rusty. "My Chief Engineer, Russell Rayna."

Rusty smiled broadly at the introduction and stepped forward, offering his hand to the nearest delegate. "Call me Rusty," he said with surprisingly restrained enthusiasm. "Welcome to the finest starship of its class in the fleet."

There were smiles and some gently laughter among some members of the delegates. They seemed relieved to find not only a human at the lead here, but one who appeared to be perfectly normal.

"Follow me," Rusty continued, "and I'll see you the wonders of the Engineering deck." He began to walk forward, but staying near enough to the group so that he could hear and be heard by them.

Devereux exchanged a quick glance with Elizabeth, whose answering look indicated that she was as surprised as Devereux by the Chief's behavior. The young lieutenant seemed on the verge of laughter and, Devereux had to admit to herself, so was she.

Adjusting her gait, Devereux moved herself toward the front of the group again, catching the end of Rusty's somewhat inflated description of the ship's capabilities. Devereux doubted that many of the delegates would know the difference, but the matter brought her thoughts and gaze back toward the Star Blood and his aides.

Ship's Log: November 9

Devereux studied the Star Blood in silence for a long moment in silence. Several retorts came to her mind, but she kept them all to herself. She managed a thin smile. "I'm sure you do." With that, she broke eye contact, glancing toward Elizabeth to make certain that the young lieutenant was not about to stir things up again with an ill-timed remark of her own.

Elizabeth looked back at her, her eyes glazing brightly with contained anger, but Devereux could tell that she was going refrain from making any comments. Devereux turned back to the main group with a forced, but pleasant smile. "Shall we continue?"

A palpable sense of relief rippled through the other delegates. Several nodded and murmured vague sounds of approval. Devereux turned and began walking again, forcing herself to contain her annoyance with the arrogant Star Blood.

The group moved together in silence until they reached a wide double door marked with a red cross. Devereux turned to the group and smiled again. "Our infirmary," she said, touching the door controls. There was a faint sound and then the twin doors slid open. She stood to one side as the delegates entered past her. She avoided meeting the gaze of the Star Blood, who ignored her in any case.

After the last of the delegates entered, she walked to the front of the group and addressed them. "Not quite state of the art," she explained, "but close." She turned and surveyed the main area. "It's not large, but then we usually have only a small crew, so it generally fits our needs."

With a slight frown, she peered toward the other hatches, listening for signs that someone might be present. She knew that Hope was not one for public appearances, but she had informed her that the tour would be making a stop here and it would be "more efficient" if the Medical Officer was present to answer any questions.

Devereux nearly let out an audible sigh of relief when she heard the sound of light footfalls approaching. They had the distinctive cadence of Hope's stride. She smiled at Hope and, as expected, received no reaction in return. Her smile faded as she turned back to the small group.

"This is my Medical and Life Sciences Officer, Hope."

She heard a few faint murmurs and noticed a few curious glances as some of the delegates caught sight of her Aerian officer. She fought to suppress a faint smile. Hope's presence on the Emerald Flight was not exactly a closely guarded secret, but it was evident that several of the delegates had not been fully briefed on her crew.

Allowing herself a soft, inward chuckle, Devereux turned toward one of the diagnostic tables. She was about to speak when she heard a sudden confused hush from behind her. She turned quickly, prepared to deal with unexpected trouble, but what she saw stopped her completely.

The Star Blood knelt on one knee before Hope, his head bowed as if in supplication. His aides were doing the same.

#

The entire bearing of the Star Blood and his contingent conveyed an absolute attitude of respect and something else. Fear? Devereux wondered.

Hope stood before the kneeling trio, her expression aloof and unreadable. Devereux could not determine if Hope was uncomfortable with the sudden display of obeisance or even if she had been anticipating it. For herself, Devereux found it completely unexpected and wondered what unknown position Hope held that would cause the otherwise imperious Star Blood to bow before her.

Devereux found herself staring, not at all certain how to interpret the scene before her. The Star Blood said something that she could not quite make out. It seemed to be in native Aerian, judging the few times she had heard it used, but Devereux knew that she would not have understood even if she could hear it clearly.

There was a period of silence while Hope stood without looking down at the Star Blood. Finally, she turned her dark-eyed gaze ever so slightly downward. She spoke a few words, or rather made a small number of sounds, in response. The Star Blood's head lowered slightly and then he rose, never directly facing Hope. After a moment, his aides rose as well, following the Star Blood's example.

Ship's Log: November 8

[earlier that evening]

Hawkes stood outside the hatch watching the indicators as the transport completed its docking maneuvers. One by one, the glow of the lights switched from red to amber to green. There came the sounds of the lock disengaging and the hatch began to open. Hawkes stood at attention, taking a quick glance at the two-person security detachment that had accompanied him. There were ostensibly intended to serve as an honor guard, but Hawkes knew that they were more than capable of acting if a dangerous situation arose.

Through the open hatchway stepped a tall figure, towering several centimeters over Hawkes. It had dark hair that hang loose to its shoulders. It skin was a deep red, the color of human blood. What appeared to be a ceremonial sash was bound tightly at its waist. What initially appeared to be some kind of rough-hewn armor Hawkes knew to be an organic symbiote.

The figure regarded him with mild disdain. "You are their chief warrior?" The figure said, it voice deep and with a faint gravelly undertone.

The Tactical officer gazed impassively upward. "I'm Lieutenant Hawkes, Chief Tactical Officer."

The figure made a sound that might have been a snort, but it was difficult to know for certain. Different species had different customs for expressing themselves. In any case, Hawkes gave no reaction.

"Star Blood," the alien commanded. "You need no other name." His eyes never left Hawkes, but his hands gestured toward the similarly outfitted pair behind him. "My aides. Treat them as you would myself."

Hawkes' eyes quickly surveyed the pair before returning to the figure. noted that their sashes were less ornate and of a duller shade than that of the Star Blood.

"You will take me to your Captain now."

Hawkes paused a moment. "She is at the reception," he told the Star Blood mildly. "Do you wish to visit your quarters first?"

"I will see her now."

Hawke's expression remained frozen. "As you wish," he answered drily. "Please follow me."

He started down the corridor, followed by the Star Blood who then flanked by his two aides. The two members of the honor guard detachment allowed them to pass and then fell into step behind them. As a tight group, the five of them headed through the passageways toward the reception.



[later that evening]

Devereux led the group of delegates through the passageways of her ship. They had never really felt cramped and crowded before, but then they rarely had this many people traveling through them at one time. Most her guests kept silent or murmured with varying degrees of sincere appreciation as she pointed out interesting features of her vessel. Some of them, however, particularly the new arrivals demonstrated no such politeness.

"This is a not a ship of battle," Star Blood announced after only a few minutes into the tour.

"No, Star Blood," Devereux replied calmly, although she was certain that Elizabeth could sense the underlying tension in her voice. "It's not." She allowed herself a quick, but deep breath. "Our main purpose is transport and exploration."

"We were told that we would be safe here," he countered, his tone dripping with accusation and disdain.

Devereux paused and fixed her gaze on the Star Blood. "We can defend ourselves if necessary." She broke eye contact and gave the other delegates a practiced smile. "And it's only short trip. Hopefully you won't be on board long enough for any trouble to find us."

"You must always be prepared for battle," Star Blood declared. "Only a fool would believe otherwise."

Devereux felt her jaw tighten. She saw Elizabeth grow tense. Uncomfortable murmurs sounded from some of the other delegates.

"We hope to change that," Devereux responded tightly. "The goal of this conference, after all, is peace."

"Whatever its goals might be," Star Blood said, derision clear in his tone, "the result will not be peace."

"Let's hope you're wrong then," Devereux replied. She amended her statement with a smile to the other delegates.

"I have not achieved my victories by being wrong," Star Blood countered. "I know my enemies, Captain."

Ship's Log: November 7

His record, however, spoke clearly for itself, and he had never demonstrated anything but the utmost loyalty and respect toward herself and her crew.

"What's going on, Lieutenant?" she asked, pitching her voice so hopefully only he could hear her clearly.

Hawkes looked Devereux a moment in silence. If he was noting her lack of uniform, he made no indication of it. Instead, he pointed to a schematic of the ship on the main display panel in front of him. "We've had a series of malfunctions, Captain," he reported, his tone equally low. "They have been brief and corrected themselves quickly."

Devereux studied the display. "Did you call Engineering to have a look?"

Hawkes looked up at her, his eyes the only thing conveying any expression. "I thought more discretion might be warranted, Captain."

Devereux's eyes narrowed slighted; she tilted her head almost imperceptibly in the direction of the command deck. After a moment, Hawkes broke eye contact and locked the controls to his console. They walked together in silence and climbed the short ramp to the command deck. Without a word, Devereux activated the privacy shield.

After she was certain that it was operating, Devereux spoke. "You suspect sabotage of some kind?"

Hawke's expression betrayed nothing of his suspicions. "It is possible, Captain. Most of the systems were located in key areas or involved key systems."

"But you said the malfunctions lasted only for a few moments."

Hawkes nodded. "In most cases, yes."

Devereux frowned. "Do you know if Engineering scheduled any maintenance in those areas?"

"Not according to their logs," Hawkes reported. A faint hint of annoyance played at the corners of his mouth. "However, Chief Rayna is not known for keeping the most accurate records."

Devereux nodded thoughtfully in agreement, letting the remark pass for the moment. "We'd better ask them to check it out," she said, and then added with a faint smile, "with discretion."

"Yes, Captain," Hawkes agreed. "If there are saboteurs among the delegates, it would not be to our advantage to let them know that we've detected them."

Nodding, Devereux called up the schematic on one of her own displays. At the moment, everything read as expected. She wondered what, if anything, the Engineering techs might find. If it turned out to be unreported routine maintenance, she would scold Rusty in the morning and note it in her log.

Devereux suddenly felt very tired. "Anything else, Lieutenant?" She tried to keep the weariness from her voice.

Hawkes straightened before answering. "No, Captain."

Resisting the urge to rub her eyes, she nodded. "Okay then," she said, holding back a yawn. "Let me know if they find anything."

"Yes, Captain," came Hawke's crisp response.

For a moment, Devereux envied the Tactical officer. Despite having several years over the majority of the crew, he never seemed to show any signs of the fatigue she now felt. She deactivated the privacy shield and looked at Hawkes.

"Good night, Lieutenant," she offered quietly. "The bridge is yours."

With that, she walked down the ramp and off the bridge. Despite her growing fatigue, her mind continued to dwell on the unusual malfunctions. She hoped that they would prove to be nothing of concern, but under the current conditions she was unwilling to regard any unexplained activity as unimportant. He would discuss the matter with Commander Rayna in morning, after she had Engineering's report.

Reaching her quarters, she opened the hatch and stepped inside. Tossing the towel onto the bed, she weighed how much she wanted a shower against her desire for sleep. Strange, she thought, how quickly the tiredness had overcome her. Yet, it had been a busy and stressful. The session with Tarkanan must have unknowingly relaxed her enough to finally get some sleep.

She sat on the edge of the bed and then leaned back onto it, intending to just rest for just a few moments before entering the shower. Releasing a long, slow breath, she closed her eyes. Sleep came quickly and she allowed herself to be taken by it. Dreams came and she surrendered to those as well.