Chapter Two
Ensign Troy McGeorge was in Sickbay due to a severe burn on his right side, a broken leg, and a deviated septum. Captain Washington knew this because she'd just finished reading the casualty and injury report. Furthermore, Lieutenant Gordon's report revealed that the injuries had occurred when McGeorge's fighter had been hit with a glancing blow from a Jem'Hadar torpedo. The fighter was a total loss, despite the fact that McGeorge had managed to return it to the Stargazer. Judging from the Ensign's current behavior, McGeorge wasn't in Sickbay to have his injuries tended. He was there to flirt with Nurse Lopez.
Captain T'Gwen Washington was half Vulcan. As such, she wasn't prone to showing much emotion, and emotional outbursts from her were almost unheard of. Annoyance, however, was one emotion which Vulcans were masters of showing in subtle ways. Normally, it was a raised eyebrow, or perhaps tightly pressed together lips. Washington was also half human, and under medication. Vulcan subtlety, however had been worn bare by the last eight hours in Sickbay. "Mister McGeorge, Miss Lopez, please take your flirting behavior elsewhere," she ordered, sitting up straight, and wincing slightly due to the sudden pain in her head.
"I told you to lie down, Captain," Doctor Johnson said, as he entered the ward. "But of course you never listen to me. Ensign, you can leave Sickbay now. No fighter pilot duties for the next forty-eight hours. Report to Lieutenant Gordon for your new duties."
As Ensign McGeorge left the ward, the Doctor turned his attention to the Captain. His steady gaze was some what unnerving. "I told you not to sit up straight, or fast," he said.
"I believe I recall such instructions," Washington said.
"Good, that means you memory is okay," Johnson said. "Now we just have to work following those instructions. Has anyone brought your dinner yet?"
"Not yet, Doctor," Washington said. She was hoping she'd have a choice in the menu this time.
"Nurse Lopez! Get the Captain her green beans and grits," Johnson said. "I'd include the fried ham, but I believe she has some objection to perfectly good pig's ass."
Washington really had to get out of Sickbay soon. She hated grits. The green beans weren't bad, but the grits, she'd rather have the fried ham, and since she never had meat (with the exception of her secret vice, turkey) that said quite a bit. Still, it wasn't wise to go against the Doctor's orders.
"I want you to get some rest after dinner, Captain. And no more reading intelligence briefings. That small print is not helping your recovery. Nurse! Where are those grits?"
...
The center seat of the Stargazer was physically comfortable, that was one thing that Marrissa could say about it. After all, a captain did not need the additional distraction of an uncomfortable chair to add to their troubled day. Since Captain Washington was relieved of her duties pending her exit from Sickbay, Marrissa was basically getting all the troubles that normally came a captain's way. Usually, Marrissa only spent brief times in command, and didn't have to deal with the paperwork and other annoyances that came the way of the Captain. Today, she was unlucky enough to be Acting-Captain during a lull in the battles, and it seemed that the recent fights had made the Stargazer behind in its paperwork.
"Please tell me that that's the last of them?" Marrissa said as she signed the ninth report she'd read that day and handed it to the Captain's yeoman.
"Sorry, sir, but we'll have another four or five of them ready by the end of the shift," the yeoman replied, before turning and exiting.
"Marrissa, Captain Portinmire is hailing us," Ops interrupted.
"On screen," Marrissa ordered, standing up. She'd discovered that if she was seated the viewer didn't see her in isolation mode, which it was currently stuck in.
The stern vestige of Captain Berganmister Portinmire appeared on the screen. Marrissa reached down to adjust the zipper that kept her uniform jacket up. It had a zipper problem, opening up more as the day progressed, and something about Portinmire made her want to have perfect deportment when he called.
"I see you're still in command," Portinmire began. "That explains why your ship is out of formation."
"No, we are not, sir," Marrissa replied. "I asked your first officer for permission to drop back a little during our impulse engine flush. You were unavailable at the time."
"I understand," Portinmire said. "When will you be able to return to your former position?"
"Our Chief Engineer informs me that she'll be bringing the main impulse engines back on line in two minutes," Marrissa said. "In addition, our shield generator problem has been fixed."
"In two minutes I want you to take the Indefatigable's position at point," Portinmire replied. "And Commander, don't contradict me again. Indefatigable out."
...
The sign on the door read "Lieutenant Jay Gordon, Second Officer, Fighter Commander." Behind it were the quarters of the youngest member of the crew of the Stargazer. It was a room that could be best described as Spartan. Standard issue bed, desk, and two chairs. No paintings. The only nonstandard items in the room were two small photos on the desk, one of his family, and the other of Marrissa, and a Vulcan lute.
The lute was a recent addition. Oh, Jay could play it rather well, but until he had transferred to the Stargazer he had been using his father's lute. At the moment, Jay was practicing. Sitok's Minuet in E was a classic for the Vulcan lute, but it wasn't an easy piece. Jay had only just started to learn it, and it showed. The current passage was perhaps the best mastered section he had, with its delicate trills being a common element of Sitok's work, of which Jay played a lot, in private.
On the Stargazer, only the Captain and Marrissa knew that Jay played the lute. Marrissa knew because he'd picked it up when they were both children on the Enterprise-D, not that they were much older now. The Captain was his current teacher. T'Gwen Washington had gone to a school for the performing arts before she went to the Academy. This had surprised Jay when he had found out. After all, the Captain came from a Science Vessel, and had spent most of her career in a field know for logic, not creativity.
Captain Washington preferred the more recent human composers for the Vulcan lute. It was one area that Jay disagreed with. There was a reason it was called Classical Music, Jay thought. That meant it had to be a classic, and to Jay, that meant that time had to pass. Nothing became a classic overnight. Though the Captain's fondness for Earth Country Music transcribed for the lute was changing Jay's definition of the Classical sound.
The Vulcan lute was a soft instrument. Playing it was a calming act, on that Jay often needed. For instance, today he had to deal with: a fighter pilot that refused to believe that he was too injured to go back to active flight duty, a chronic shortage of a needed part for his fighter's control systems (fortunately solved) and to top it off, Marrissa was doubting her ability again.
Most of the people who knew Marrissa would never believe that Marrissa ever doubted herself. Marrissa had them fooled. Jay knew differently. He'd often been Marrissa's sounding board. Doubt was a more consistent trait to Marrissa that the supreme confidence that most assumed was her primary trait, apart from incredible luck. The teenage girl often needed reassurance, and Jay wished he'd been able to give it more often, but he wasn't in the position she needed it from. Today she had suffered a real bad setback with the Squadron Captain. The guy was, in Jay's opinion, a pompous jerk. He could not ever find a way to compliment anyone, and the first and second officers of the Stargazer were not on his most favored officer's list.
The chime of the door interrupted and ruined what would have been Jay's first perfect run through the difficult trilling section he'd been working on. He quickly placed his lute on his desk, and called out, "Enter."
The Captain of the Stargazer entered. "I hope I'm not intruding, Jay," she said.
"Apart from the practicing that I'm getting no where on, you aren't, sir," Jay replied as the Captain took a seat in the other chair. "What brings you down to Deck Six?"
"I just ran into Marrissa, and it looked like she'd been crying," Washington said. "I wondered if you might know why."
"Probably Captain Portinmire again," Jay said, after a moment's thought.
"What about Captain Portinmire?" Washington asked, puzzled.
"He has only been saying criticism to her, a good part of which, I believe she doesn't deserve," Jay said. "And he even turns what would normally be the compliments she needs into scathing comments against her."
"Compliments she needs?" Washington questioned.
"Marrissa lives on compliments," Jay said. "It's what keeps her from giving into her natural insecurity."
"Jay, I find it hard to believe that Marrissa is insecure," Washington said.
"She hides it," Jay said. "But it's still there. Ever notice how she introduces herself to people she doesn't know? She lists all of her titles, insisting on her importance."
"It's hard not to," Washington said.
"Marrissa wants to be someone special, someone everyone wants to be friends with," Jay said. "She doesn't want to be alone, but she is so much of the time. Her parents are dead and most of her friends are out of touch. And here on the Stargazer her rank and position isolate her. Then when she does somehow gets leave, she has to dodge half the tabloid press because of her royal rank."
"I could see how that would isolate someone," Washington replied. "What can we do about it?"
"I'm doing what I can," Jay said. "I make sure she doesn't eat alone, and I'm there when she wants someone to listen, but I can't do much more. You've helped a lot by having that afternoon tea with her to 'discuss ship's business,' but I think there is one more thing you could do."
"Name it, and I'll try," Washington said. "I don't want my First Officer to fall into deep depression."
"She needs someone to boost her faith in her abilities," Jay replied. "Someone off the ship that has some power she can respect."
...
Captain Portinmire had not expected a call from Captain Washington. He certainly hadn't expected Washington to ask for help with an officer which he knew she relied on. "It's nothing personal, Captain, but I just don't know your first officer," Portinmire said. "I understand she's a genius of some type." Lieutenant Commander at fifteen either indicated that or nepotism in high places. After her last time commanding the Stargazer he knew that she at least wasn't a blithering idiot "I may be a little gruff with her, but I'm like that with all my junior officers."
"Perhaps, but I need someone to take Marrissa under their wing," Washington replied. He thought he could detect a tone of concern in the half-Vulcan's voice. I can't because the roles between us are already well defined away from that kind of relationship."
Portinmire expected otherwise, but then again, Washington had come to command the Stargazer though an unusual path to command a front line warship. "Captain, I understand that Lieutenant Gordon is new to your command and has many of the same talents," Portinmire said after a minute's silence. The suggestion concerned him a little, but he gave it anyway. "Could he provide the tactical instincts you say you're lacking in Commander Picard's absence?"
"I believe so, sir," Washington replied. "He's proven his instincts during mine and Marrissa's recent injuries."
The Stargazer had handled rather well during the battle that had ended on the young Lieutenant's command, Portinmire reluctantly admitted to himself. He also had to admit that he'd wanted to see Lieutenant Commander Picard under a closer view. Of all the First Officers in the squadron, he knew the least about her beyond the service jacket. Perhaps a short term assignment on the Indefatigable would solve that. He even had one available in just a few hours. He'd been planning to give it to one of the Indefatigable's Lieutenants, but perhaps an exchange of problem children would be better for all concerned.
"Good," Portinmire said. "Have Commander Picard report on board the Indefatigable at thirteen hundred hours tomorrow for a temporary assignment of about three days. I'll be assigning you a Lieutenant to temporarily fill her shoes, but as second, not first officer. You'll need to tutor Lieutenant Pizarro in carrier tactics. And if you can get him to relax a little, I'd be obliged. He's become a menace to my Ensigns."
Pizarro currently in charge of the Command Track Ensigns just assigned to the Indefatigable as their Training Officer. He was a fairly good officer, but he was running them just a little hard. In his and Commander Luciani's opinion, it was good for the Ensigns, but not good for the Lieutenant. Unrelenting and unforgiving commanders rarely survived to make Captain, and Portinmire thought he had the talents to make it.
"I will make my best attempt, sir," Washington said. "When can I expect Lieutenant Pizarro?"
"1100 hours," Portinmire replied. "Have Commander Picard brief him before she reports in. He'll know that it's temporary, but she may need to enforce the fact on him, as you might. I'll leave you to prepare your command. Indefatigable out."
As Captain Washington's picture winked out, Portinmire brought to his mind the possible candidates to fill Pizarro's Training Officer post while he was gone. It was either Harkeness or Donner. Perhaps the gruff Lieutenant Harkeness would do the job. Harkeness was a firm Lieutenant, whose sudden stops with his bulk had been know to tear the carpet. Donner didn't seem to quite have as much a grasp on his duties and responsibilities. It would have to be Harkeness.