With just under a week remaining before the Ranger left dry dock – it was now officially time for Devin to make his 'official' inspection tour of the boat – but he'd already come to determine in his time as a First officer and before that as a chief of Ops, if a Captain really wanted to know how his people performed, he watched them work – not inspected everything after it was all spit shined and polished. That was reserved for Admirals. Captains and their crews worked for a living.

To that end Devin had already put in a standing order that the bridge did not need to come to attention when the Captain entered, nor announce his presence, and the same went for all locations on the ship. Normal procedures would be followed on formal occasions, but for day to day operations, the Captain wanted things to continue running smoothly while he wandered his boat. When a VIP was onboard, standing orders might change, but for the time being – it was the way he wanted things run.

So far, the crew was listening.

Crewman First Class Connie Walsh slammed her open palm against the skin of the Nickel in frustration, as the deck crew had started to call it. It was the Eagle the Captain had brought aboard, and since it was a fighter that had not originally been added to the manifest, it had become the 'Captain's bird', even if he had not flown it since. She had been given the job of Crew Chief on the fighter mainly because all the fighters had a crew chief – and since it was seldom used, it didn't need much work. She was still expected to fully pitch in and help with the rest of the birds on the deck – but she serviced this fighter alone.

And right at the moment she was attempting to tune the lateral stabilizer, but the blasted thing kept dropping just a hair out of alignment and it was driving her batty. Muttering a surprisingly extensive string of curses she reached for her tri-corder only to notice that it had managed to slip just out of arms reach under the fighter's port 'wing'

Still grumbling she was just about to roll over and grab it when a pair of Starfleet issue boots stopped next to the wing, "Hey you! You want to hand me that Tri-corder?"

"Sure crewman" was the response and a moment later the body above the boots bent down and picked up the tri-corder then leaned over and slid it towards Connie. She caught the look of a standard issue flight deck coverall, and a brief glimpse of a man's face she didn't quite recognize before snapping open the tri-corder and passing it over the lateral stab for what felt like the hundredth time. As an afterthought she cast out a "Thanks"

"Anytime, so might I ask what you're doing?" the voice replied

"Trying to get the lateral stab on this bird properly aligned, its been out of sync since the Captain brought it onboard – and since I got the joy of being the Nickel's crew chief – which, by the way, means that I have to do all my normal duties, plus be primary on all maintenance work and paperwork associated with this bird. It's a pain in my ass – but maybe the Captain will notice or something. I don't know."

"Ah. Why do you call it the Nickel?"

"What? Are you new here or something? Its tail number is 555, or Triple Nickel – a coin type they used on Earth back in the 20th. But everyone just shortened it to Nickel." Connie replied as she avoided the urge to hit the ship again, all it would do was bruise her knuckles anyway.

"I see. I guess I just haven't heard that. Still having trouble?" the boots asked

"YES! This bloody thing refuses to stay!" Connie replied in an exasperated tone

"It falling off or shoving high?" Boots, as she was now thinking of the other crewman since she hadn't heard his name inquired.

"Falling off, and every time I bring it back inline again it just drops a hair off."

"You've probably got a minor variance in the power feed then. An aberrant wave pattern can cause that problem. Give it a look."

Connie frowned, and then switched modes on her tri-corder and checked the power-coupling. And there it was, staring her in the face. Less then a quarter degree of variance, but it was just far enough out of spec. Berating herself for not having checked for such a problem earlier she made a quick adjustment, and the whole system slipped into spec like the well oiled machine that it was. Grabbing a spanner she began to re-attach the housing cover, "Mister, I could just about kiss you. I've been beating my head against that problem for an hour. But since we've just met, maybe I can buy you a drink sometime?"

"We'll have to see Crewman. In any case, I've got other work I need to attend to. Glad I could help." With that, the Boots disappeared.

A minute or so later as Connie was assembling her tools and putting things away she saw the deck chief walking by, "Hey Chief! Got a minute?"

Master Chief Petty Officer Harlan glanced over, "Sure Connie, what's up? Get that stab squared away?"

"Yep, say a couple minutes ago there was another deck hand over here and he gave me some good advice, but I didn't recognize him – you see him? I'd like to buy him a drink."

The Chief raised an eyebrow, "That was no deck hand Connie…"

"Eh? What do you mean." She replied as she closed up her toolbox, "He was wearing coveralls."

"Yah… He does that – likes to get a feel for how things are running without interfering with the works."

Connie frowned and stood up, "Who does what?"

"You still haven't figured it out? That was the Captain."

All she could do was stare, "No. No way. I…"

Patting Connie on the shoulder the Deck Chief grinned, "Don't worry bout it – from what I've heard he's been doing the same damn thing all across the ship. Rather sneaky of him, but it does mean he gets the skinny on what's going on."

"Uh… yah… but some of the stuff I said."

"Well – would you have said what you said to anyone down here on the deck?"

"Well yah. But – he's the Captain… and…"

"And if it was good enough for them, from what I've heard, it's good enough for him. Hell, he might even let you buy him a drink sometime" the Chief kept on grinning

"I'm not gonna live this one down, am I?"

"…'fraid not little girl. 'Fraid not. But look at it this way – the Captain now knows who his Crew Chief is."

Connie snorted, she couldn't decide if that would be a good thing, or not.