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.