Chiita sat in the Captain's chair, almost silent, during several shifts. His expression remained blank and his stare direct. He sighed twice. Mr. Anderson, the young helmsman, wondered what was wrong with the Captain. Chiita asked, once, for a status report. And that was it. The truth was, the entire bridge wondered -- and worried. Their smiling Vulcan Captain hadn't smiled in two days.

 

***

 

I sat in the Captain's chair. All day. All day long actually. I had thoughts swirling around in my head. I think I sighed once. Maybe two times. I guess it doesn't matter. You see, I was sad. Sad at the whole world, which is strange, because I'm usually mad at the world. I say world figuratively, of course.

It all started when T'Irs wanted to do an adventure game together. That was nice. I got to roleplay with my wife. I had fun, and I think she found the game interesting, if not boring. She did run the scenario about a dozen times - who wouldn't get bored? So, we skipped to the end and I got to fight and get dirty.

 

The second adventure was different. I think T'Irs had an agenda and she fulfilled it. Though the thought of my T'Irs toughening herself up does not make me happy I can't blame her. She's on the Johnson because of me and all her family is on Vulcan. She doesn't have a friend in the sense that she can talk to someone daily. I'm the closest to a friend she has. And, frankly, some days I'm lousy.

 

I was just daydreaming when Lant reported for her shift.

Lant said, "Captain, you're still here?"

I looked up. "I took a break -- I think? Anyway, I'm glad you're here. I need to talk to you."

Lant chuckled. "It's time for my shift, Sir."

How silly of me. "Really?" I laughed and so did the bridge. Then it dawned on me that maybe I had been a sour puss and it was affecting the morale of my crew. I think I wear my thoughts on my sleeve, if not my forehead. I forced a big smile and said, "It's nothing important. Just some advice."

Lant nodded and I'm sure the rumor mill would start, Luckily, the Johnson has a small crew. I just need walk into Starboard's Bow and catch all the juicy gossip. She followed me into the conference room. I gave Mr. Anderson the conn.

He beamed and said, "Yes, Sir." Before the conference room door closed he had his buttocks firmly in my seat.

"Okay, Sir." Lant said, as we both sat down.

I collected my thoughts for a few seconds. "I need to ask you something."

She waited.

"Do you remember the first time you killed someone?"

She relaxed. This was something she knew about. "Yes, Sir, I do. It was a distant cousin. He tried to have his way with me and I ripped out his heart. I was twelve at the time."

I laughed, "Maybe you're the wrong person to ask."

She laughed too, "Sir --" then she turned serious and her voice softened a little. "Chiita, I'm going to assume you are giving me permission to speak freely."

I nodded.

She smiled, "T'Irs wants to be by your side."

"Now how'd you know this was something about T'Irs?"

She laughed. "We are a small ship. Someone has stomach problems the whole ship knows. Secrets and a private life are not for a Deep Space Explorer."

I nodded again, "You really think that's it?"

"You know I do, and you feel it too."

"What do I do about it?"

"Nothing. I like T'Irs. She's sweet and innocent, which is a bad combination, but I still like her. She's puts up with you. That has to show she is a strong person. But she is not a warrior, not yet, at least, and that is her one failing."

I thought about that.

Lant then said, "She can't protect you and you are not always going to be there for her."

I slowly nodded. The realization of all this hit me. I've known this for years. I just never took it to the next logical step. I wanted T'Irs to be more sociable. Not a chatterbox, just a little more sociable. Selfish of me. I dragged her away from her home and family. She has to attend class via subspace, just some of the many things I feel guilty about. I looked at Lant.

She smiled, "She's not a fragile innocent little girl, Chiita. Let her become that warrior."

Lant was right. I guess I too can have epiphanies.

 

***

 

T'Irs walked into Dr. Foster's office. The ex-admiral looked up. "T'Irs, what a pleasant surprise," she said with genuine enthusiasm and affection. "I see you got my message."

T'Irs sat down. "Yes, Doctor Foster, I did. Is it favorable news?"

Foster leaned back. She admired T'Irs for doing this. It was a tough decision. "You have been accepted."

T'Irs' face remained emotionless. "Doctor --"

"Karen, T'Irs and it is appropriate."

T'Irs nodded slightly, "Karen, I thank you very much for your assistance and confidentiality in this."

Foster smiled, "T'Irs, it really was an easy decision. I was only too happy to recommend you to the academy." She leaned forward. "When are you going to break the news to Chiita?"

"I am uncertain of that. I would like to hear any recommendations or techniques you may have."

"The direct approach is always good."

T'Irs nodded. "I am -- uncertain and this feeling is most undesirable." She stood up. "I have taken enough of your time -- Karen. Again, I thank you." Then she turned and walked out the door.

Foster grinned. Chiita was going to have a handful with that. She wondered how he would react. In the last several years T'Irs had mellowed him out and he was no longer the hothead he used to be. Being Captain of a Deep Space Craft hundreds of light years away from any known friendly civilized planet is not the time for hotheadedness.

 

Gaslight Hunter: The Adventures of Matt Maverick and Miss. Lynn Mei

Interim

 

 

When I reached our quarters T’Irs was not there. I walked over to my desk and noticed the message light on my terminal was blinking. “Computer, play message.”

The computer beeped.

On the desk terminal screen a friend’s face appeared. “Hiya, Chiita. I talked to one of the professors at the institute. He agreed to record the entire seminar. He also said that he’d be happy to give T’Irs credit, being it will help her application. He didn’t say what the application was, well, anyway, the seminar should be in your inbox. Luckily, the school has holographic recorders. You can load the whole thing in a standard j-class Holodeck. Oh, yeah, I put in a special program. After the seminar, the professors will respond to questions. I included the entire RI response and breadth routine. T’Irs should have fun trying to stump the computer. See you when you get back. You still owe me a game of poker. Jonas, out.”

I checked the file size. Twelve terabytes. A bit small, but Jonas was pretty good at compression routines. “Computer,” I said, “please copy file to Holodeck temp storage. Save file as ‘T’Irs surprise 1’.”

The computer beeped.

I checked my other messages. There was a message from a fourth grade teacher and her class. They wanted us to answer some questions and talk about space travel. I decided to give that assignment to Lant. I’m sure she’ll drag me into it, but I didn’t want to handle it. The logistics is a nightmare. That’s why I hand picked my crew – They can handle it. There were other messages. Then I saw a message from Starfleet Academy. It congratulated me on my acceptance unto the Deep Range Remote Teaching program. What the hell? I sat down. “Computer, please play this message.”

The computer beeped and ran the recording.

Music and fanfare streamed on the small view screen. Commodore Baker, the current Deep Range Remote Dean appeared. “Greetings Captain Scar’an. We, at the academy, are very pleased to add you to our list of highly recommended and capable individuals to participate in the DRR program. As you know, many cadets serve on in-systems vessels for additional training. Occasionally, a cadet is given an assignment that is out-system. Because of this the Academy created the Deep Range Remote continued Instructions Program – DRRCIP (he pronounced it Der-sip). This program insures the cadet receives the very best instructions while away from the Academy. Individuals like you make this program work. I personally, am sending you this message to show you my gratitude. You will insure the success of our latest student. Accompanied with this message is all the necessary material you’ll need to make this the very best experience, for yourself, and for your student. Thank you, Sir.” He saluted me. I automatically saluted back. “End of transmission.”

I sat there for a moment. ‘What just happened?’ I asked myself. Then T’Irs called.

“My Husband, could you meet me in Holodeck room three. I have something I would like to share with you. You need not change.”

I automatically said, “Okay, T’Irs, on my way.”

I got up and started walking to the door. I stopped in mid step. Instructor, Der-sip, Application, credit for the seminar, things started to add up. Some days I’m slow and dumb as a box of rocks. A captain doesn’t have to be smart, just have a loud voice. Some moments I wished I was as dumb as a box of rocks. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. It wasn’t logical. I resumed walking.

 

I finally reached Room three. “Computer, open doors please.”

The computer beeped and the doors opened.

I stepped in and saw T’Irs standing next to a table. The room was a basic non-descript plain white painted room. The table had a thin candle burning in the center. Two plates, empty, and two tall fluted glasses, not empty, were on the table. I stopped inches from the table.

T’Irs looked at me for a few second. “Computer run program.”

The room filled with tables, chairs, and people. The lights subdued low and music started playing in the background. I squinted in the now near darkened room and saw a band playing softly on a raised platform. I recognized the band to be a Jazz band, my favorite type of music.

“Chiita, please sit down.” T’Irs said.

Stunned I sat. Then a trumpet played solo in the background. Moonlight Serenade. The computer played the piece as it if had a soul. The sound from the trumpet came out warm and inviting. It caressed and massaged my senses and took me flying high in spirit. The notes poured out like sweet tasting water and fresh smelling air. The trumpeter danced out the notes like they had been commissioned by the highest divine. I looked around and the crowd slowly rocked their heads and swayed their bodies to the razzle-tap-tap-tap of the drums and the doo-wha-doo-doo-doo of the bass guitar. T’Irs sat and listened. Her eyes focused on someplace I couldn’t follow. Then the music stopped and for several seconds of silences later the crowd applauded.

“T’Irs, what is going on?” I softly said.

“My Husband, we are on a date.”

A what? “A what, T’Irs?”

“My Husband – Chiita, we never dated. Our marriage was arranged and Pon Farr occurred ten years too soon.”

She had me there. It was a mess. I took the glass in my hand and sucked in the clear liquid. Champagne. As I was putting the empty glass down the computer refilled it. I drained it within seconds. I did it two more times and mellowed out.

“Chiita, I have something to tell you.”

Oh, Man, was I ready for this. “Yes, T’Irs?”

She counted to three, “Starfleet has accepted my application.”

The ceiling suddenly became the floor.