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The swearing was fluent and inventive including multiple Earth languages. Una was impressed. She was less impressed with what she saw. The other cadet was wearing his hair in a so-called Caesar cut which was popular with most of the Earth born males. It really didn’t do much for him.
“May I ask what prompted that wonderful demonstration of profanity?” Una asked.
He blushed to the tips of his ears. “I was mostly swearing at myself.” He glanced at the computer he was sitting in front of, “A bit at the computer,” he admitted.
Una nodded slowly, a gesture she’d realized very early in her academy career prompted further speech from the other person. It surprised her that the other cadet just gave her a crooked grin.
“I know that trick, too,” he said. “People rush to fill silences, at least most of us from Earth do.”
“I’m from Colony 9-A. I don’t think of our culture as differing so greatly from the Earth born humans, but that’s definitely one way it does. We can stay silent forever.”
He laughed. “I’m Christopher Pike.”
“Una Chin-Riley.” She thought for a second. “Pike. I should have recognized you. You gave the speech about the bad re-entry.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s not easy to get up and admit to a mistake like that, just so others may not make the same one.”
“Thank you. It wasn’t easy, but we’re not Starfleet cadets for an easy life.”
Una nodded. “We’re not. My burning question at the end of it was why didn’t your first officer tell you that your decision was wrong.”
“My ‘first officer’ thought ze should be in charge of the mission and wanted me to fall on my face. I don’t think ze understood that zir face could be blown off, too.”
“Well that’s not good.”
“It wasn’t. The Academy is reconsidering how assignments should work for test pilots and crew.”
She cocked her head again.
“If two people want to be captain, give them each an opportunity to do so rather than making one subordinate to the other,” he explained.
“Ah,” Una said. “Which still doesn’t explain what you’re doing swearing at a computer, Pike.”
“Please call me Chris.” He contemplated her for a moment. “You’re on command track, too,” he said, gesturing at her insignia. “Would you have corrected me?”
“I’m odd. I want to earn the rank of captain, but I’m not particularly interested in captaining a ship. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure I’d be perfectly capable of it after a few years in the black under my belt. But I don’t feel like I have the deftness with personalities that most captaincies require. I’m a scientist. Commanding a science crew, where even if they disliked me, they’d probably work with me, is possible. But on a large ship, I’m better at an executive role.”
Chris said, “Why?”
“Because captains need a certain amount of affection from their crew. Not buddy-buddy, that would, at the very least, cause fraternization issues, but a more general liking: fond nicknames. Things like that. The XO just needs to be respected.”
“That’s an interesting take.”
Una raised an eyebrow, “But not one you can agree with?”
“I don’t know. I assume that the captain in your scenario is respected, too?”
She nodded.
“And that the XO would know their shipmates very well, strengths and weaknesses?”
“Yes.”
Chris said, “So why couldn’t that XO take the next step to captaincy?”
“Again, I plan to be a captain, but not all captains command a ship.” Una thought for a second. “Are you trying to avoid my question?”
“A bit,” Chris said. “So there’s an old story about Earth’s space exploration. A ship that was due to land on the moon had an accident that knocked them slightly off course and left them with less power than they needed to both land and take off from the moon.”
“It was one of the really early ones, right. An Apollo mission?”
“Apollo 13. They had communication with Earth, but no computer at that point thanks to the accident. So they used a visual telescope and calculated what they needed to do using pen and paper, then asked their Earthside counterparts to confirm their calculations.”
“I’m following you.”
“On our test piloting incident, our computers were knocked out briefly. When they came back on, we relied on them to help us out of our problem. But we didn’t know that the computer had actually fried some of its circuits. We should have run a full diagnostic, but we didn’t have time.”
“So you relied on unreliable calculations and nearly got yourself killed.”
“Myself, well, I don’t want to die, but that isn’t the important part. I nearly got the whole crew killed.”
Una said, “Are you trying to develop a short diagnostic that would have let you know the computer wasn’t calculating correctly?”
“I’ve already done that. Its reliability at the moment is only eighty percent, but there are a whole bunch of Starfleet brains that have taken them and are trying to get the margin of error to under three percent.”
Chris took a deep breath. “In the days of Apollo 13 there was an instrument called a slide rule. It was an aid for calculations. I’ve been trying for days to get the three dimensional printer to make me a working one.”
“How well do you know this ‘slide rule’? I mean, do you have all the parameters?”
“I know the basics. I also know that there were flat ones and triangular ones which I assume allowed for other sorts of calculations, not just logarithmic.”
“How big were these things?”
Chris said, “They were described as pocket sized, but, honestly, I don’t know how big pockets were. And I don’t think the triangular ones could fit in a pocket.”
“No wonder it’s not working. We need to go to the museum.”
Chris just stared at her. “The DeYoung, Modern Art, Alcatraz?”
Una chuckled. “I thought we could see if the Museum of Sciences might have an example or if its archives could provide a description. Maybe even instructions for use?”
“I feel like an idiot.”
Una nodded. “The haircut isn’t helping.”
***
Three weeks later, they were still working on the slide rule project. The museum had opened their eyes.
“At least I didn’t think they were triangular,” Una said.
“Okay, so that was an architectural scale, but they had round and cylindrical ones, not just flat.”
They laughed together for a moment.
“Una, do you really think this could be a good idea?”
“Weirdly enough, I do. I know there are some extremely gifted humans who might be able to do the calculations in their heads…”
“And there are Vulcans and other species who either have the facility or are trained in how to do complex calculations in their heads.”
“But,” Una continued, “under time constraints, having what’s essentially a manual computer available to help with navigational and other calculations could be a life saver.”
Chis said, “How often does a ship lose its computers though? Or even have reason to doubt that the computer’s calculations might be skewed?”
“I’m not saying that it’s not rare, but your case shows that it happens. Having three of these on every starship could literally save lives.”
“Three?”
Una nodded. “One designed purely for navigational purposes. We’ll have to adapt the old navigational slide rules for three dimensions, but having one for the helm could be valuable. One of the large stationary ones that anyone can access with every possible scale that a slide rule has ever been used for, and a simple three notation rule for engineering.”
“Maybe we should take this to one of the professors or a dean.”
“Before we’ve managed to produce a working one?”
Chris said, “I’d rather have a working one to take to them, but if the ideas are that good – and I like your three different styles – then maybe we shouldn’t be the only ones working on it.”
There was a long pause.
Chris said, “We don’t have to decide now. Let’s hit an art museum and go into Chinatown for dinner. Sometimes just clearing the mind can make all the difference.”
“I agree with your conclusion. Though I do have one question.”
“And that is,” Chris asked.
“Are you finally going to kiss me after dinner tonight?”
His jaw dropped. “Um,” he blinked a few times then smiled. “Yes, I will.”
***
They had breakfast together in Chris’ cadet quarters the following morning.
“Why were you so shocked yesterday?”
Chris choked a little on his coffee. “I guess mostly because I’ve been listening to your running commentary on how forward and gauche and …”
“Idiotic?” she offered.
“Yes. All of that. Earth men do not seem to have impressed you very much.”
“Most haven’t. I thought I’d made it clear that you had.”
“Maybe you did. It’s widely known among my – very few – ex girlfriends that I can’t see a hint until it hits me in the face.”
“The number of your exes is not relevant. So, you’re somewhat gauche, but not at all forward or idiotic. That’s a solid win, you know.”
“Thank you. So, um, what is this?”
Una smiled. “Right now, I’d say we should use the old fashioned phrase ‘friends with benefits.’”
“Good. I do think of you as a friend, which is rarer than I’d like to think.”
“I know what you mean,” Una said, “the Academy is so competitive that it’s hard to communicate without wondering whether the other person has a different agenda. When I first arrived, I thought maybe some of the group projects would open up into friendships. So far, the people I’m friendliest with are either a class or two ahead of me or a class behind me.”
“I’d never considered that. I can only think of one friend in my own year, and we’re not all that close. We were better friends after we stopped being roommates, too.”
“My first roommate was a girl from another colony. I guess they just thought colony students would automatically have a base to work from, but really our colonies were at very different stages of development. She thought I was some sort of backwoods person with no sense of refinement – even though I’m from the biggest city on my planet. And, I was pretty certain she was a snob.”
“So, what did you do?”
“We went together to the dean who established that the only thing we’d ever agreed on was getting out of this roommate situation. She assigned us new roommates, mine was a Vulcan who wanted to learn more about human cultures. V’Rel is still probably the person I’m closest to here.”
“After my second year, I offered my services to any department at the Academy that would guarantee me a single room. Which is why I’m part of the test pilot program.”
“An excellent solution.” Una looked thoughtful. “Actually, is it an excellent solution? You don’t seem to be much of a risk taker or was it the near fatality that made you more cautious.”
Chris shook his head. “The cadets who come to the test piloting program wanting to fly by the seats of their pants are told to go away until they can appreciate the value of life. While they don’t want to lose a prototype, that’s an acceptable loss as long as recklessness wasn’t the cause. But to lose a sapient life? That’s unacceptable.”
“So hot shots with fantasies of derring do need not apply.”
“Hot shots with a healthy dose of self-preservation along with their fantasies of derring do, are a much better fit.”
Una finished her coffee. “I really wish I didn’t have a class in half an hour.”
“I wish the same thing.”
“But Chris, is it possible to see you tonight?”
“I have astronomy club tonight – which usually wouldn’t be a problem – but I’m presenting a paper about the supernova of Betelgeuse in 2027. Tomorrow night?”
“Technically, I have something, but it’s easy to rearrange for a daytime slot. Dinner’s on me tomorrow night.”
Chris kissed her lightly. “I’ll hold you to that.”
***
YEARS LATER
Captain Christopher Pike had narrowed his list of potential executive officers down to three and scheduled interviews with all of them. The first one had been a no as far as he was concerned less than ten minutes into the interview. The Mirabilan man who’d been the second interview wasn’t perfect, but Pike thought they could, with some work, become an excellent working team.
The third was Una Chin-Riley. Pike just didn’t know how their past relationship might have an impact on their working together now. They’d had their benefits – as Una had put it – for about six months, but the relationship had reached the point where they had to decide if they were a good fit for a long term romantic partnership or if they should just be friends without the benefits. They’d chosen the second option, and every once in a while Chris wondered whether it had been the best choice.
“Lieutenant Commander Chin-Riley,” Chris said as she came through the door. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you, Captain Pike.”
He motioned for her to take a seat. “I want to be up front: you’re not the only person that I’m interviewing to serve as my XO. Captain April’s recommendation and the fact that you’re already serving on the Enterprise both count in your favor. But I wonder if we’ll work well as a command team.”
“Because I’ve been working in various science divisions?”
“That’s a consideration.”
There was a very long pause that neither of them rushed to fill. Finally, Chris said, “Would you care for a drink? I have everything from Chinese tea to Saurian brandy.”
“I’ll have whatever you have.” After a beat she added, “Chris.”
He nodded. “Then it’ll be Romulan ale, Una.”
She grinned. “What are your real worries?” she asked after he handed her the bottle.
“Well, there’s the obvious one, though, I think we’re the only two people who realize that it’s unlikely to be a problem.”
Una nodded. “If that’s an oblique way of asking me whether I ever regret reverting to just friends, then I can truthfully say that every once in a while I wonder a bit. But it’s just that. I wonder. There have been other relationships, and I wonder about them, too, from time to time. It’s human nature.”
He sipped from the bottle. “Me, too. But I don’t think we could have chosen differently, not then, and I don’t see us reverting now – not if we become a command team.”
“Good. That’s out of the way. What questions do you have?”
Chris said, “The most important one is: would you still tell your captain if you saw a clear mistake being made?”
“Without hesitation.”
“Will you miss science?”
Una said, “Frankly, I think the reports will be dull. It seems that an XO is constantly either reading or writing reports. But I’m good at the helm. I’ve worked in engineering. I began in the sciences and have worked xenobotany and astral chemistry and loved them both. But…”
Chris said, “But?”
“The first is that I need a position like this or an equivalent level of responsibility to earn my own captaincy at some point down the line. The second is more ephemeral. I feel like with my wide range of assignments and duties, I have the comprehension that an executive officer needs to fill in where something’s missing or to understand whether a conflict in a department is a professional disagreement or something which could damage the good order of the ship.”
“You certainly have a wide ranging resumé, but that worries me a bit. Will you stick the course? I don’t expect you to be glued to either me or the Enterprise for the rest of your life, but I don’t want to worry that you’ll go off to a different assignment on a different track just because something new has taken your fancy.”
Una shot him a look. “Taken my fancy? I’m not exactly mercurial.”
“Your record isn’t exactly stable though. I’m not complaining. You’ve earned most of Starfleet’s top medals, but you’ve done so by going from one track to another.”
Una said, “I don’t think of it that way. I told you back when we were working on slide rules that I wanted the second chair more than the center seat. I’m not saying that my moves were thought out from my entry into the Academy, but I’ve always known that a varied career would get me where I wanted to go.”
“Can I be certain you’ll follow my orders, even if you disagree with them?”
“No, Chris.” Una held up her hand. “I will tell you if I think you’re making a mistake or giving a bad order. Where possible, I’ll do it in private, but I’m not afraid of saying something publicly if the situation calls for it. If that’s all it is, a disagreement, I’ll follow the order even if I ask for an objection to be logged. In fairness, I’ve only done that once, and my senior officer’s decision was judged to be illegal upon review. That was a small matter. If I hear you give an illegal or stupid order – for example, something that could destroy the whole ship for no good reason – I won’t follow it. I’ll accept the consequences of my mutiny, but that’s part of an XO’s job, to keep Captain Pike from becoming Captain Ahab.”
Chris leaned back in his chair. “Both my other interviews said they would call me out if necessary, but they also said they would ultimately follow the orders I gave. They didn’t make the distinctions that you did.”
Una shook her head. “It won’t be the first time that talking too much kept me from getting something I really wanted.”
“No, you misunderstand. I asked the wrong question. You answered the question that I should have asked. No one should follow an illegal order, certainly not at our ranks.”
“Then?”
“I’ll inform Admiral April that I approve of his choice for the Enterprise’s first officer.”
She rose and stood to attention, “Thank you, Captain.”
“Please sit, Number One. I want to know your assessment of the current crew.”
Una sat back down and took another sip of her Romulan Ale. “Where should we start, Captain?”