2: An Envious Man.
Hornblower was an envious man.
It was slightly embarrassing, he knew. A captain ought not be envious of his tactical officer, but there it was. He envied dark, handsome Gerard, so confident in all of his dealings. He envied Stahl, the navigation officer, who had all the experience and calm that a three hundred year old symbiont life form would be expected to have, and he envied Clay, the communications ensign, for his youth. Consequently, it did his temper good to see the way that his first and second officers came trotting onto the bridge, Gerard with his pips slightly askew and Bush still shaking out her braid when the turbolift doors opened.
As they came onto the bridge, they looked over to the viewscreen. Panama hung there, lush and green, wreathed with tropical rainclouds. It was a welcome sight after weeks of warp fields and asteroid belts, warp fields and dust clouds, warp fields and blurry star sightlines.
"Good morning, Mr. Bush, Mr. Gerard," said Hornblower.
"Good morning, sir," said Bush. Gerard echoed the sentiment in slightly preoccupied tones; he had slipped up to the tactical console to see the mess the third watch had made of his systems.
It was as though the exchange on the holodeck had not occurred -- as if Hornblower had not, that morning, walked past Gerard on the corridor where both of their quarters lay, as if he had not used the treadmill next to Bush for an hour and a quarter. He used the same treadmill each morning, with a larboard port in front of him and a wall to the left. Each morning, too, Bush would arrive and take the next treadmill over. It was a brave being who would subsequently disturb the captain's morning walk, even for a look out the larboard ports. Bush ran in Security-issue physical training gear, pounding out a free, easy eight and a half minute mile with plenty of breath left over to keep imprudent junior officers or enlisted men from disturbing the captain.
Afterwards, Hornblower had gone back to his quarters for a shower, then gone up to his ready room for more pacing. Bush must have gone to the holodeck. They had parted, as always, without a word, and now, Hornblower watched her seethe with questions.
Why had they dropped out of warp so early? Why were they maintaining geostationary orbit instead of dropping a transport? It was taking Bush an effort to restrain herself, and Hornblower hid a smile.
"The Ambassador," he said, slowly, enjoying the moment, "has asked to beam aboard directly instead of being transported up from the planet. Consequently, we will no -- "
"Incoming message, sir." Clay was fresh from the Academy and his voice trembled every time he took a new hail.
"Onscreen, Ensign."
"It's a single iteration text message, sir. No reply expected, and no direct reply possible. They scrambled the origin point."
It was good to see Bush's surprise so clearly on her face -- Hornblower felt less self-conscious about his own expression.
"On the screen anyways, Mr. Clay," Hornblower said and turned read it. The Citadel.
Panama.
Lady Barbara Wellesley presents her compliments to the captain of the Starfleet ship. She requests that he will be so good as to receive her aboard immedately and subsequently return her and her aide to Federation territory with all possible speed as required by the Admiralty.
"And we're being hailed with a transport initiation sequence, sir."
"It could be forged, sir," Bush offered, and it was, indeed, unprecedented for an Ambassador to take such informalities, but Hornblower shook his head. He had called up the header sequences from the single iteration text message onto his personal console, and the shipboard computer chirped as it finished its verification.
"The diplomatic flags are correct, Mr. Bush. And the seal on the document is intact. For better or worse, I'll be receiving somebody claiming to be the Ambassador in the transporter room."
It was clear Bush wanted, quite desperately, to ask Hornblower if he would stay out of the transport room until she had confirmed that the Ambassador was who she claimed to be, but even setting aside the impropriety of a lietuenant commander receiving a full Ambassador when the captain was available, Hornblower had a vision of Bush taking blood samples and asking the Ambassador the date that the Elondar Nubalae joined the Federation -- Hornblower doubted he could answer that himself, and he could only imagine the wrath of the Admiral if he should find out that his younger sister had been subjected to it.
"She must be in a terrible hurry, sir," Bush said. Apparently, she had given up trying to persuade her captain to do the cautious, prudent thing and had found a new line of battle. "Shall I station a security team outside the transporter room?"
There was anxiety in her face, and Hornblower realised with a thrill of pleasure that Bush was actually worried about her captain's well being. "I'll only be going to my own transporter room," he snapped. "You have the bridge, commander."
"Aye aye, sir."
"Be prepared to take her to warp as soon as the Ambassador is aboard, and you might as well send a security team down, too. Even if she brings aboard nothing worse than a dozen hatboxes, they can help carry her baggage."
It was both irritating and gratifying to see how this pleased Bush.