Note: I don't think Kaorin has a canonical family name. In my last story ("The Breaking Waves") I had her as "Sakamoto;" but with the starship named after Sakamoto Ryouma, a hero of the Meiji restoration, I'm changing it to Fukuda. Make it so, Incanto out

First Officer's Log, Koyomi Mizuhara, Stardate XXX-OOO

The Ryouma is currently en route to mediate a border dispute between my home world of Vulcan and the Romulan Empire. Estimated time of arrival at Warp Seven is in two days, seven hours. This gives me time to advance my personal duties aboard this ship: that is, gathering evidence against that idiot Tomo so Fleet Admiral Kimura will relieve her of command. You might call that insubordination. I prefer to think of it as "proactive career planning." My initial goal was to cite fifty protocol violations; we've been out of dock for a week, and I've recorded one hundred and seventeen. It seems too soon to bring this matter to the Fleet Admiral's attention, so I'm holding out for five hundred. After all, it would look bad if he admitted his mistake so soon after giving the Wildcat of Starfleet Academy captaincy of the Japanese Federation's flagship.

The rest of the crew assigned to the Ryouma exhibits a much higher level of competence. There is, of course, her first officer, with her faultless service record and five years' experience as the Ryouma's Operations Chief, who graduated the Academy second in her class. Behind Tomo Takino.

My former role as Operations Chief has been assumed by Lt.-Commander Ayumu Kasuga, something of an oddity. As all are doubtless aware, Starfleet has been deploying sophisticated androids in administrative functions for the past decade. It seems that Lt.-Commander Kasuga was, to put it delicately, the protocol model of the current wave. As such, while her abilities are literally superhuman, a number of…bugs remain in her social protocol, that Captain Takino was quick to take advantage of. First she programmed the Lt.-Commander to speak in an antiquated dialect from the earth city of Osaka, a dialect no one except for stand-up comedians has used in eight hundred years—but that wasn't the end of it. In fact, when I ran into her this morning…

"Commander Mizuhara! I am in need of assistance!"

Commander Koyomi Mizuhara, rushing down the corridor with a briefing under one arm, found Lt.-Commander Ayumu "Osaka" Kasuga planted in front of her. The Lt.-Commander's face, with its big, limpid eyes, faced her. The rest of her body did not.

"Ever since I awoke from my five-hour maintenance cycle, my locomotive algorithm seems to be stuck, so to speak, in reverse. When I mean to move forward, I move backward, and when I mean to turn left I turn right. Furthermore…"

"Lt.-Commander," said Yomi in a slow, controlled voice, "I want you to touch your nose with your left forefinger."

Osaka's right hand probed futilely at the back of her head for several moments.

"Yeah," she said, "that's the other thing."

"Think carefully. Is it possible that while you were inoperative during your maintenance cycle, someone screwed your head on backwards?"

Osaka's eyes went blank—blanker, that was, than usual—as she computed.

"There is an eighty-seven point nine percent probability of that scenario."

Yomi no longer sighed. Rather, her severe features became a touch more severe. She tapped her communicator.

"Mizuhara to Captain, come in."

"Mizuhara to Captain," answered a voice, "come in."

"Damnit, Tomo, I'm not going to fall for that 'communicator malfunction' gag twice."

"Damnit, Tomo, I'm not going to—"

"I said quit messing with me! Now tell me if you know anything about the current orientation of Lt.-Commander Kasuga's head."

Manic laughter filtered from the communicator.

"Oh man, Number One, you beat me to it! I wanted to tell her April Fool's!"

"Tomo," said Yomi, her voice sinking to a hiss, "the idea is to fool people on April Fool's day. And we are currently fourteen lightyears from Earth's sun; we're not on some kind of Gregorian calendar."

"Huh?"

"Let me explain this carefully. There is no continuity of years, months and weeks in space. That's why we have Stardates."

"But we can still, like, measure a twenty-four hour cycle by the ship's internal clock, right?"

"Yes."

"So what you're saying is…April can be any time we say it is."

"Well yes."

"Then you're relieved of command, Miss Mizuhara, report to the brig."

"What—!"

"April Fool's! Ha, ha! Today's April first, captain's orders. Now if you'll excuse me I got a busy day to plan…"

"You'd be better be preparing for the extremely volatile negations we're heading into! Mizuhara out."

Osaka had assumed her usual placid, cheerful expression.

"I see. Captain Takino has played a 'prank' on me. Human use pranks to express affection. She certainly is an energetic commander."

"Yeah, something like that.—Now walk backwards to Engineering and get Lt. Mihama to fix your head." And as the android moved off, causing other crew members to leap back in alarm, Yomi muttered: "If only someone could screw her head on straight."

Our Chief Engineer is Lieutenant Mihama, a whiz kid who made Lt., Junior Grade right out of the Academy. According to her record the brat's only nineteen year old. To be fair, she does have a measured I.Q. of over two hundred, and it didn't hurt that her father is the fifth-richest man on Earth and basically owns the shipyards where the Ryouma was built. But if she can translate her technical skills under pressure, she'll make a fine officer. In fact, I may see eye-to-eye with her on a number of issues…

"Commander Mizuhara? I'm sorry to bother you…"

Yomi glanced up from her computer terminal, and quickly tried to rub away the dark marks under her eyes. She only succeeded in making them worse.

"Miss Mihama! No bother. What can I help you with?"

"I know you must be busy preparing for the negotiations, but I have a few questions…that may be vital to our mission."

Regarding her, Yomi said carefully:

"If they're so vital, why not bring them to Captain Takino herself?"

"The questions," Chiyo said just as carefully, "are about Captain Takino."

Yomi gave a faint smile. In a silky voice she went on:

"Sit down, Miss Mihama. Can I get you anything? Computer—tea, sencha."

"Oh, no, that's alright," said Chiyo, but allowed herself to be installed on the cushioned sofa, the tea and an assortment of biscuits placed on the table in front of her. Yomi returned to her desk.

"Now," she said, regarding Chiyo over her interlaced hands, "your concerns…"

"Oh, not concerns! I just wanted to ask you about the Captain. You attended Starfleet Academy together, isn't that correct?"

"That is…yes. Yes we did."

Chiyo ate and drank with great delicacy, that took nothing away from the politeness of her speech. As always, it was impossible to tell if the brat was putting you on.

"I understand," she said, "that Captain Takino graduated first in your class."

"That's…correct."

"But her service record since has been, well…erratic, to say the least. While your own, Commander Mizuhara, has been…"

"Exemplary," Yomi provided, firmly, when Chiyo hesitated. "Yes. That's correct." Kneading her forehead she continued: "Miss Mihama—may I call you Chiyo?—let me explain something. Captain Takino placed first in our class because she cheated on her final exams."

"Cheated—!" Chiyo blushed like a grade schooler hearing a vulgar remark. "But in that case, surely…!"

"The Proctors knew all about it," said Yomi, leaning back. A dark mist seemed to descend over her eyes. "The thing is…you are familiar, I trust, with the career of Captain James T. K—"

And an inexplicable, high-pitched buzzing noise obscured her last word.

"Whose name," she finished, wincing, "is so renown that our comm system automatically censors it so it won't get used disrespectfully."

"Of course! He was probably the greatest captain in Starfleet history."

"That's right. You know that he cheated on his exams. Well, Starfleet is always hoping for a repeat of Captain K—. So now whenever they get a 'think-outside-the-box' maverick, they give them the highest command available, and either they succeed brilliantly or they get themselves killed."

"Then Fleet Admiral Kimura is hoping Captain Takino will be the next James T. K—?"

"Precisely. That's also why they assigned her a Vulcan first officer."

"Yourself…Commander Mizuhara?"

"None other."

Chiyo said in the most maddeningly inscrutable tone: "I see."

Yomi leaned closer. "Chiyo—may I call you Chiyo-chan?—I said that officers like Takino end up either brilliant or dead. If Takino ends up dead…that may have a detrimental effect on your health and mine. We should do our best to make sure that doesn't happen. Understand?"

With great sincerity Chiyo nodded and said: "I understand."

And sipped her tea.

I enjoyed my chat with Lt. Mihama, but between one thing and another I fell behind in my preparation for the negotiations and had to work through dinner. By eighteen-hundred hours, my blood pressure was reaching dangerous levels and Ensign Fukuda suggested I visit sick bay. I comprised and went to see our ship's counselor, the half-betazoid who prefers to go by Miss Sakaki. Not that I mentioned my plan to Ensign Fukuda, who gets weirdly defensive where our ship's counselor is concerned.

Miss Sakaki is a woman of few words, but "serene" is certainly the first word that comes to mind to describe her. Ensign Fukuda isn't her only fan among the crew.

The office of Miss Sakaki, ship's counselor, was decorated in a tasteful deep purple that reminded one, inexorably, of the bedroom of a young girl. But no one could mistake the very womanly half-betazoid for a child. She sat demurely in a Terran-style armchair while Yomi reclined on the sofa. The Commander had been speaking, uninterrupted, for over ten minutes; and she was finally touching on a different theme than her animosity toward a certain fellow officer.

"…I just feel like all the responsibility for these negotiations rests on my shoulders. Why, just because I'm Vulcan? I was raised on Earth; I spent my whole life around humans, and one especially human human…I don't know more about Vulcan culture than—probably than you, Miss Sakaki. It just reminds me that I never fit in all my life, and now I'm going 'home,' but they won't know me there either. But you probably know what that feels like."

Miss Sakaki gave an imperceptible nod.

She rose, and fluidly crossed the room to a shelf laden with over two dozen stuffed animals—Terran dogs and dolphins, lesser Romulan tiger-wolves, Telarain K'ghtah. Entering, Yomi had remarked this and assumed they were for the benefit of children.

Miss Sakaki took down a nearly unrecognizable white Terran cat, of a squat construction, and with a second, smaller cat affixed to its bulbous head. She placed it on the table by the sofa.

"What is this?"

"Neko-koneko," said Miss Sakaki.

"Well…I recognize an ancient Earth mascot character. But…what is it?"

"Neko-koneko," repeated Miss Sakaki.

Keeping her gentle eyes on Yomi, she reached out, as if demonstrating something, and stroked the doll.

Yomi reached out and placed one finger on it. Miss Sakaki nodded. The Commander kneaded Neko-Koneko's fabric flesh for a minute, looking thoughtful.

"Well," she finally said, "I'll be damned, I feel better."

"I can sense that you do. Come back if you have any more concerns. Please, don't push yourself too hard."

Rising, Yomi allowed herself a quiet sigh.

"Thank you, counselor."

I did feel better, but I knew what I really needed—that Terran folk medicine called a "gin and tonic." So I headed to the lounge in Ten-Forward to get myself sorted out.

However, after my third dose, I had the misfortune of encountering our Chief Tactical and Security Officer, Lt. Kagura. Now from what I can tell, Miss Kagura is an officer of great ability and integrity. She is half-Klingon, the only officer with Klingon blood currently serving on any Federation starship. Amateur sociologists speculate that Klingon fathers pass on the racial traits of reticence, pride and what might be called "gruffness;" while Klingon mothers pass on the traits of stubbornness, hotheadedness and a competitive nature.

Lt. Kagura's mother is Klingon.

"Oi, Commander! I spy three empty glasses. Maybe you aren't as spineless as the rest of the humans onboard, ha, ha!"

"Lieutenant…Lt. Kagura," managed Yomi, who had been leaning heavily on the white glass table with one hand on the bridge of her nose. "Good to see you. I trust everything on the ship is…secure and whatnot?"

"Ha!" Kagura pounded her chest. "As if any of these cowards could stir up trouble. But rest assured, Commander—I mean, I hope your little negotiations succeed and all. But if the Romulans want a fight, we'll give 'em a fight. Am I right? Eh?"

"Nobody's…fighting anybody. Let's just…be peaceful cultural ambassadors and…listen to everyone."

"Wha-at?" Falling into the seat opposite her, Kagura gaped. "Is this what liquor does to you? Makes you even more of a sheep? Where is the fire in your blood? Bartender! Romulan ale, hot!"

Yomi raised one hand to refuse—but the gesture was halfhearted, and Kagura took no notice. The bottle, full of frothing green liquid, being delivered, the Lieutenant eagerly poured out two glasses.

"The Romulans may be sneaks," she said, "but they brew a good, strong ale. Drink up!"

And she took her own advice. Momentarily she had to pour herself another glass.

For all her aggressiveness, there was a certain girlish candor in the way Kagura spoke. Now, quite without invitation, she began unloading her own troubles:

"Did you hear Captain Takino's report that there were Romulan spies onboard? She got my security team fighting each other like dogs. Turns out it was some Earth custom called 'April Fool's day.' But I got to give her credit, she's keeping us on our toes. There's a commanding officer for you!"

"She certainly is…something," Yomi offered.

"To Captain Takino of the Ryouma, the finest ship in commission!" bellowed Kagura—cheers from around the lounge—and finally, the toast was accepted by Commander Mizuhara.

When it took her more than one swallow to drain the glass, Kagura tapped her shoulder.

"Let me tell you something. The Romulans are like the Klingons in this: they respect strength. If you aren't strong, how can you gain their respect? Commander Mizuhara! I challenge you to a contest—a drinking contest!"

Yomi's eyes took some time to focus on her interlocutor. When they did, in spite of their blurriness, there was a certain strength there—even frightening in its intensity. Kagura looked impressed.

Yomi struck her glass on the table, spattering her arm with droplets of Romulan ale.

"Alright! Bring it on!"

Kagura burst out laughing.

"Bartender, two more bottles!"

The other patrons were quick to cluster around. Bets were placed. Few of them favored Yomi. But in the early stages of the contest, one would be hard pressed to distinguish between the grim determination of the contestants.

Outside, the black void of space continued to swirl.

Chief Medical Officer's Log, Stardate XXX-OOO

Commander Koyomi Mizuhara was admitted to sick bay late last night at twenty-three hundred hours with an acute case of alcohol poisoning.

I don't know why I call anything "acute" anymore when I can fix everything short of some alien virus or heart failure with a hypospray. But once the danger of liver failure was averted, Commander Mizuhara continued to retch for several hours. She was paid a visit by Captain Takino, who shook her head sadly and made skeptical remarks about the Commander's future in Starfleet.

While she was unconscious, the Commander muttered repeated threats against some individual who was "a chain around her neck" and had "hounded her ever since birth," who "must die" before she could ever be happy. When she finally recovered, she had no memory of these statements; so I consider them nothing more than intoxicated delirium.

While Lt. Kagura strained a shoulder muscle carrying the Commander all the way to sick bay, she otherwise seemed in perfect health.

While there were several minor injuries resulting from the Captain's spontaneous announcement of April Fool's Day, there are no further serious cases to record. I wish Commander Mizuhara a speedy recovery anticipating the Vulcan/Romulan negotiations as, I'm sure, do all hands onboard. I am not alone in my admiration for the Commander's sense of duty, and her commitment to our welfare.