From: "Amy Gross" 
Date: Sun, 9 Feb 1997 02:37:06 +0000
Subject: [CHESAPEAKE] SB DELTA: Bell Reports

SD: 90209.0730
Scene:  Sanibel Island, Florida, Earth
     Helen Breckenridge looked down at the sleeping woman with
something approaching distaste.  To her slightly younger cousin,
Amanda Bell's presence in the house had almost seemed calculated
to overshadow her.  They were alike in some ways, she admitted,
mostly in terms of physical traits.  They shared the same slender
build, the same pale skin dusted over with barely perceptible
freckles, the same curve of the upper lip that Amanda's husband
(and Helen's numerous near-misses) had been inclined to call
adorable.  Helen was a bit taller than her cousin, and her hair a
bit darker than "The Captain's" perfect shade of gold.  Still,
Breckenridge harbored a suspicion that that perfection was due at
least as much to the wonders of modern beauty products than to
good genes.  Not that the two ever discussed such things
together.
     How could you hold a normal conversasion with Ms. Perfect? 
It had always been Amanda, Helen recalled.  Always.
     When they were little more than tots, Amanda had gotten the
special tutors; Helen had gotten dolls.  Later, Amanda had gone
to Vulcan; Helen had gone to boarding school.  Seeing the
absolute horror that her mother and grandmother had felt at their
little star's underhanded plot to enter Starfleet, Helen had
chosen that same route herself.  Instead of the outrage she had
anticipated, she had gotten a mild, "How nice--she looks up to
Amanda so."  After the deaths of her cousin's husband and child,
Helen had as much as given up.  How could one compete with that?
     Not that Helen envied her cousin her losses.  Dale had been
a good man, and she missed little Audrey horribly herself.  The
whole business seemed to have sucked the life out of Amanda,
though, and that at least made her easier to resent.  Rumor had
it that she had turned her first command into some sort of ice
kingdom, and she knew there had been a good deal of tension
between Bell and her XO.
     All of which mattered little; Amanda was home now, and no
matter how chilly Helen's mother or grandmother sometimes acted
towards the returning hero, it was pretty clear who the main
attraction was.  Almost made Helen want to smother her rather
than wake her up.  Instantly, she felt bad, and wondered if you
could envy someone and love them at the same time.  The CNS on
the KINGSTON would enjoy hashing that one out after leave, she
reflected.  Wasting no more time, she reached out one hand and
tapped the curve of her cousin's shoulder.
     "Amanda.  Amanda?"  The other woman awoke almost instantly,
as she always did.  She was a very light sleeper, Helen recalled,
and thinking back on it, was surprised that her cousin had not
been disturbed by her mere entry into the room.
     "Hey, Helen.  What time is it?" Amanda asked hoarsely,
rolling over onto her back and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
     "Late.  Almost noon.  They wanted to spend your last day
with you."
     The identity of "they" was clear, and it vexed Bell that any
time with her father had to include them, too.  She forced a
smile.  "Great."  She sat up and stretched, her arms arching
above her head as small popping sounds came from various points
along her shoulders and spine.  "Mmmm...back to the big void
tomorrow, though.  When do you ship out?"
     "Another week."  Helen shrugged.
     "Lucky you."  Amanda was trying to sound jealous, but it was
no real secret that they would both rather be elsewhere.  She
swung her feet onto the carpeted floor.  "Shall we attend family
theater together, then?"

******************************
Scene: Shuttlecraft
     Captain Amanda Bell leaned back in her seat and sighed.  The
leave-taking had been more or less like every other leave-taking
over the past few years.  Her father and uncle had stood
helplessly in the background while her aunt and grandmother had
showered her with inane advice.  Helen, as always, had stood off
to one side trying not to look sullen.  She shook her head. 
Amazing how little control Robert Emerson was able to assert as
compared to his two closest relatives.  Three, counting Amanda
herself.  She almost laughed at that.
     DELTA loomed large on the viewscreen as the pilot
simultaneously announced their approach.  A bit redundant, Bell
thought, but made no comment.  She just wanted to not be in
transit anymore.  A smooth arrival followed, and she soon found
herself in a docking bay, giving quick orders to some youngish
man in a uniform who claimed to be responsible for her baggage.
     "I'll take those," she said curtly, rescuing a biocontainer
that she felt he was handling a bit too cavalierly.  Inside were
two small sea horses, part of the old BURKE stock.  She hefted
the container gingerly, being careful not to disturb its
occupants.  "Thank you," she said quickly to Luggage Boy, as she
had taken to calling him in her mind.  As an afterthought,
perhaps as part of the guilt for labeling him in such a manner,
she added, "Good man," and took off down the concourse.
     After stowing her pets in her temporary quarters, she
negotiated around the sea of people, finding her way back to
CINCGREEN's office.  The doors swished open, and she was rewarded
with a visage almost as friendly as her own--that is, not very. 
Jokinen's receptionist looked up at her blandly.
     
     "Captain Amanda Bell to see Admiral Jokinen," she said,
tonelessly.
     She tried not to listen to the brief conversation between
Admiral and assistant, and even managed a half-smile at the
receptionist as she was told to go inside.  Her steps were even,
almost measured, as she entered the second set of doors and
brought herself up to a good attention stance before CINCGREEN's
desk.
     "Captain Amanda Bell, reporting as ordered, sir."

NRPG:
Jari:  Blech...do all reporting posts end like that?  She's here,
at any rate.

Respectfully submitted,
Capt. Amanda Bell
Amy Gross, ag8836a@american.edu

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