From: "Amy Gross" 
Date: Wed, 5 Mar 1997 01:54:03 +0000
Subject: USS CHESAPEAKE: Bell Jars

SD: 90304.0640
MD: 1.0930
Scene: Ready Room
     Stack upon stack of PADDs awaited her.  Captain Amanda Bell
shook her head slowly--the powers that be in Green truly expected
her to read through all of this?  Wasn't this what she had an XO
for?  She looked over the rosters for several departments.  The
were really just names--their department heads would make the
more detailed assignments later.  She shook her head, staring at
the OPS listings--was there anyone representing a race that was
*not* hostile to the Federation?  They were under the direction
of a Romulan who had gone AWOL on his last assignment.  Of
course.  Bell thought about the amount of work that must have
gone into obtaining the security clearances for that department,
and shuddered.
     Other things demanded her attention, as well.  Much as she
tried to avoid being morbidly fascinated by the information she
had recently been given about the CHESAPEAKE's counselor, she
could not.  How did one handle waking up and finding themselves a
different gender?  Offhand, she wondered if anyone had ever had
the lack of tact that was required to ask such a question.
     The science officer seemed more than up to her task. 
Irrational as it seemed, the young woman's Vulcan-like demeanor
did quite a bit to reinforce Bell's impression of her abilities. 
The Security Chief was fresh from the Academy, and was said to
have quite a temper on her--not uncommon among green officers in
her department.  As long as she kept it in check, and lived up to
the potential her instructors had seen, she could simmer as much
as she liked, Bell decided.
     The Chief Medical Officer was another issue altogether.  She
had served on the REGENT for quite some time, and served well. 
The CO's first impression upon reading Catherine Ledoux's file,
however, had been indignation.  Did BUPERS think she was running
some sort of convent for the broken hearted?  After several
minutes of glowering, she had decided to overlook it.  A good CMO
was entitled to as much sighing as she liked.  As long as it was
out of her sight.
     Bell sighed, pushing away the information on the senior
staff and sorting through the message headers that had arrived
over the past ten minutes.  She refused to believe there was
anything going on that could warrent 16 separate missives to her
in that time span.  In a fit of pique, she flipped off the
terminal.
     Moments later, she heard the generic chime that meant
somebody wanted access to her Ready Room.  She would welcome any
distraction at this point, she decided, and wordlessly pressed
the panel that opened the door.  The mildly pleasant expression
on Commander Brennan's face met her own calm stare, and she
nodded in greeting.
<>
<>
     "I thought we might want to get to know each other a
bit--figure out what we expect of each other, and so forth."
<>
     The Captain nodded slowly, watching Brennan carefully as she
took a sip of her coffee, eyes steady over the rim.  She waited
for the burning liquid to slide down her throat and smudged a
droplet or two from the corner of her mouth.  "That would be
wise, Commander.  Would you like to begin, or should I?"
     Brennan paused, unsure as to whether or not this was some
sort of test.  She appeared to be staring him down again.  Just
as quickly as the suspicion entered his mind, however, her
expression changed, becoming more open, more approachable.  He
flexed his hand around his tea cup, then answered.  "You're the
Captain," he told her, a small smile playing about the corners of
his mouth.
     Bell laughed.  It was more a concentrated expulsion of air
through the nose than a genuine chuckle, but she seemed amused. 
"Fair enough," she said, taking a moment to collect her thoughts.
"What do I expect from you?" she repeated in an undertone,
glancing down into her coffee cup, then bringing her dark eyes up
to meet Brennan's own gaze.  "I expect you to be everywhere I
can't.  You're my link to the rest of the crew.  Of course, I
have a certain level of accessibility myself.  I'm a ship's
Captain, not an emperor."  She waited for the obligatory smile
from her XO, then went on.  "It's your job to facilitate the
smooth day-to-day operations of this ship, and to keep me
apprised of them."
     Brennan nodded.  This was all standard stuff, really--he
imagined just about any given CO had recited similar words to
almost any given XO at one point or another.  Bell regarded him
silently for a moment, then went on.
     "In addition...you are supposed to come to me if you feel my
judgment is in error."  She gestured pointedly towards her door,
indicating the bridge beyond it.  "It will doubtless come as a
comfort to you to hear that I am never wrong, Commander. 
Especially out there."  She stared at him for a long moment.  "Do
you understand?"
     Brennan nodded slowly.  "Yes, sir..."  At least, he hoped he
did.  Either she meant that any second-guessing of her was meant
to be done in private, or else he was serving with Napoleon.  He
examined her expression, looking for any warning signs.  The
calm, open expression had returned, however, and he relaxed a
bit.
     "And what do you expect of me, Commander?"  She took another
sip of coffee.
     The XO paused, thinking.  "I suppose, sir, that I expect the
right to be heard, to have your ear when I need it.  To have a
clear idea of what it is you want.  I think a ship runs much
better if the command staff isn't constantly playing guessing
games."
     Bell nodded, and she seemed to approve.  "Fair enough," she
repeated.  A pause followed, stretching out as each officer
sipped their respective drink.  The XO followed her gaze to the
sea horse tank beside her desk.  The two inhabitants appears to
be resting, their small, spiky tails coiled about delicate
branches on the tree in the middle of their habitat.  Finally,
deciding the moment was right, DJ Brennan spoke up again.
     "Captain..."
     "Yes?"  She turned her attention back to him.
     "I was wondering if I could ask a question...something that
I think would help me understand your command style..."  He
trailed off.
     "Indeed?"  Her brows raised a bit, her expression a mixture
of curiosity and suspicion.
     Taking that as about as close to permission to go on as he
was likely to get, Brennan nodded.  "Calliope IX, sir.  I just
had been thinking about it."
     Bell stiffened visibly.  "Had you?"  Her tone was clipped,
just short of icy.
     Brennan nodded slowly.  "It just seemed...well, odd, sir. 
Rather anomalous as compared to the rest of your record."  It
never hurt to butter the toast a bit at times like this, he
thought.
     "It was a rather...anomalous time in my life," she stated
flatly.  "Don't worry; Commander, we won't need a shuttlelift to
get refugees off of the CHESAPEAKE."
     True enough...if he remembered correctly, the assignment had
come on the heels of the loss of her child.  Still, that did not
answer the fundamental question in his mind.  "I see.  But what
I'm wondering, really, is what you were thinking."  He
paused--you're starting to sound like a bad journalist, he
decided, and started over.  "I was just interested the evolution
of your reasoning, I guess.  If I may speak frankly."
     "You may."  The Captain laced her fingers together, tapping
her thumbs together a few times.  "And so may I.  A lot of people
died, and a lot of people were saved, and maybe I contributed to
both.  But there were two whole hearings on the matter, and I
testified extensively at both.  Everything I have to say on the
subject is contained there.  It is all a matter of public record,
and you may order the transcripts if you wish."  Her manner had
become...bland.  She did not appear especially hostile, but it
was fairly clear that she considered the matter closed.
     "I see," Brennan repeated, stifling a frown.
     "As I said," Bell repeated firmly, "The scenario is unlikely
to happen again."  She paused, her tone changing distinctly.  "Is
there anything else I can do for you, Commander?"
     Brennan shook his head, still trying to sort this out in his
mind.
     "Well, then," she forced a smile.  "I'll see you at 2100, if
not sooner.  I'm looking forward to working with you."

****************************
Scene: USS CHESAPEAKE, Officer's Mess
MD: 1.2110
     Most of the senior staff had assembled by the time the
Captain arrived.  Bell immediately noted the presence of Brennan,
who she had met, and Stavay Tats-Marush, with her unmistakably
green skin.  Lt.Cmdr. th'Tellan caught her eye next, and she
nodded at him politely.  She mentally ticked them off...Ledoux
was here...the science officer was not there, though, and nobody
even remotely corresponding to the file picture of the CSO.  She
frowned; *she* was supposed to be the last to arrive.  Sweeping
her eyes around the room quickly and continuing not to see Keyrin
and Murray, she shrugged.  They were late, and could walk in with
everyone's eyes on them.  She was not going to wait.
     "Good evening," she announced, smiling faintly at the
assembled crew.  "For those of you that I have not yet met
personally, I am Captain Amanda Bell, Commanding Officer of this
fine vessel.  And," she paused for effect, "I am late for dinner.
So let's get to it."  She walked to the perfectly-set table,
seating herself at the head.  She nodded her approval as the rest
of the crew arranged themselves, with Brennan at the foot.  At a
signal from Bell, two yeomen began bringing out fresh tossed
salad.  The Captain picked up her fork, preparing to dig in.  As
if it were planned, the rest of the crew followed suit.

NRPG:
All:  Sorry this took so long to get out, and does so little. 
But, we're at the dinner.  Nice posting by all of you--my mailbox
is overflowing!  The time of the mission briefing will be
determined...well, when we do a little more work on determining
the mission.  No earlier than MD 3, though, so plan Day 2
accordingly.  Separate NRPG to follow.

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

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