Martin Hudson couldn't take his eyes off the skirt.
It was absurd, outrageous. This was supposed to be a military uniform? A Starfleet uniform? The doctor looked like - like a streetwalker. A cheap streetwalker.
Except for the ears, the pointed ears beneath the short-cropped black hair. And the winged eyebrows over level grey eyes. It was something else he could not adjust to. A Vulcan. Not only dressed like that, but comfortably working with humans, with Tellarites, with Andorians, even -
"Our analysis shows that your temporal displacement has had no significant physiological effects," the Vulcan said. Her name was T'Mev; she was a senior medic, assigned to the case of the Goshawk and her crew. "Immunizations are needed against some viral strains which have mutated during your - absence - but these are of little consequence." She paused. "The main problem confronting us, therefore, is your psychological adjustment to the temporal shift."
"I'm a Starfleet officer," Hudson said. "We're trained - we know about the risks. The dangers - unexpected dangers -"
"It is impossible to be prepared for everything. A degree of culture shock is inevitable, leaving aside the other matters which may affect your emotional state."
And what would a Vulcan know about emotional states? Hudson thought silently. He knew better than to speak.
"Your situation is - somewhat unprecedented," said T'Mev. "We are, naturally, anxious to assist you in every way possible. However, because of the unusual nature of the problem, we are to some extent learning by direct experience. We need to work with you, in order to discover the best way to help you."
"Or to study us," said Hudson.
"That is not our primary aim, though of course it is a necessary element of the process." T'Mev consulted the viewer on her desk. Another thing Hudson could not get used to: the simplified, almost blocky, lines of the twenty-third century's technology, the bright slabs of primary colours everywhere; the bland, blank walls of the doctor's office, enlivened only by a coloured play of indirect lighting....
"You don't know how to help us!" he shouted. "My God! You're as bad as that idiot Grau, just - just charging in, seeing what happens, never worrying about the consequences! That was how I got here! That was how -" He stopped. The Vulcan was looking at him with those calm, nonjudgmental eyes.
"It is, unfortunately, quite possible that you are correct," she said. "We must learn how to help you, though, and we will if we can. I submit, for your consideration, that there is no one else who can help."
She's right, Hudson thought helplessly. Everything I knew is gone. Everyone I knew is dead.
---
"Everything I knew is gone, and everyone I knew is dead," said the gaunt woman. "That's... not something you can get away from. It comes up and smacks you in the face, time and time again." She shrugged. "It's not going to stop doing that. So I have to adjust."
"It is finding that adjustment that concerns us, Captain Grau," said T'Mev.
"Do we have to be formal? Call me Ronnie, everyone does."
"I think a level of formality is appropriate... Captain."
"All right." Ronnie Grau narrowed her eyes. "So let me be a captain. What about my people? What about the state of my crew? I heard about Tasia Ferencz -"
"Yeoman Ferencz's suicide was... tragic," said T'Mev. "It is the third to date."
"I know."
"That is fewer than I had feared would happen. Your crew has shown, on the whole, courage, resolution, and adaptability in the face of this crisis. For that, as their commanding officer, you are to be commended."
Ronnie looked away. "As their commanding officer," she muttered, "I got them into this."
"You feel you acted wrongly?"
"Yes. No. Maybe." Ronnie's face twisted with emotion. "I can't think what I might have done differently. Knowing what I knew then. Maybe if I'd been half a minute quicker launching an astrometrics probe - we'd have seen it vanish, we'd have backed the ship away. Or not. I don't know.... Investigating the Rift was the right choice. We knew there was some sort of hazard, we needed to identify it and chart it. Leaving it for someone else to blunder into... that would have been a wrong choice."
"You and the crew of the Goshawk deliberately confronted the risks inherent in the situation."
"I confronted the risks. The crew didn't get a vote. I had command." Ronnie tapped her narrow chest. "The buck, as they say, stops here."
T'Mev nodded, slowly and thoughtfully. "You blame yourself, then."
Ronnie pursed her lips. "I take the responsibility. It's not... quite... the same thing."
"I see." T'Mev made a note with her stylus. "Turning now to practical matters," she said. "Some of your crew have expressed a desire to leave Starfleet."
"Can't blame them." Ronnie sighed. "It's supposed to be an adventure... but getting catapulted a century into the future, with no way back? Bit too much of an adventure for most people."
"Rehabilitation, guidance and counselling will be made available. We confront challenges in dealing with your situation, but we will do everything we can to help."
"Thanks. Seriously. Thank you."
"And you, yourself? What are your aims and goals, now?"
Ronnie smiled wryly. "I guess this is the right time to re-evaluate my career choices, yes? In the light of a new personal living situation?"
"Shorn of the jargon, yes."
"I made my career choice." Determination flashed in her eyes. "I'm young, yet, I can re-train, learn, adapt. Besides, I'm a tactical officer. The tools may change, the situations don't. They still teach Sun Tzu at the academy - I know, I asked around. I know I'm not ready to take command of one of those big white glossy starships - yet. But just watch me."
T'Mev made another note with her stylus. "I see."
---
Commodore Bregg turned the report over in his thick Tellarite fingers, frowning. T'Mev sat, patient and impassive, on the other side of his desk.
"So never mind this," Bregg growled. "What's your feeling on this whole business?"
"Most of the Goshawk's crew are young, highly trained, highly motivated, and resilient," T'Mev said. "They are, I suppose, typical of the early human Starfleet - typical of their time. The shock of their temporal displacement has proven too much for three of them... which is deeply regrettable. However, I am convinced that the others will overcome their difficulties and adapt."
"How many of them are staying with Starfleet?" Bregg demanded.
"Fifty-seven have requested this. In most cases, their counsellors have recommended the request be granted. You should consult the appendices for the specific exceptions."
"I can't be bothered with appendices," Bregg grumbled. "What about our two special cases? The CO and her exec?"
"Ah, yes," said T'Mev. "You will find their individual assessments in the appendices... or not, as you prefer. Both have expressed a wish to remain with Starfleet. Captain Grau, though she feels an additional burden of responsibility for the situation, is dealing with it - forthrightly. She is determined and adaptable. If I have a caveat, it is that her adaptability is a consequence of a certain... volatility... of her mindset."
"And Commander Hudson?"
"The Commander is dealing with the matter - less well. In my judgment, the situation has exacerbated some deep-seated resentments of his. He not only resents Captain Grau for causing the incident, he resents her very presence. He has not verbalized the sentiment, but I am sure he feels he should have had command in place of Grau."
"I see," said Bregg. He heaved a sigh. "Where are these damn appendices, then?"
T'Mev indicated on the datapad with her stylus. Bregg sat reading for a while, grunting occasionally. "All right," he said. "Grau. I see your point about volatility - but she's got talent, too. If she's got an attitude, at least it's the right sort of attitude. I'm inclined to take a chance on Grau. There's one of those induction courses starting soon, isn't there? For officers from newly contacted worlds, to get them up to speed on Starfleet technology?"
"You think that would be appropriate?" T'Mev considered, briefly. "The situations would certainly appear... analogous. There is a human saying, I believe, 'The past is another country'."
"Quite," said Bregg. "As for the other one, though.... We don't need officers with deep-seated resentments. Put him down for further counselling. Either get that resentment unseated, or counsel him into civilian life."
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