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.