A Restless Mind

[Cptn Swain 0]

When the evening finally came to a close, Asher Swain felt a wave of relief as he sunk into his richly upholstered couch. He thinks his quarters are too small? Should have had Rue assign him to a junior’s stateroom. Closing his eyes, he considered their guest for a long moment. There was something he couldn’t quite put a finger on about that one; he was prickly, border-line-abrasive, and more than a little peculiar. Granted, what did should anyone have expected out of a guy whose academic pursuits and hobbies involved reviewing, researching, and consultation of and on Starfleet’s research policies.

 

That particular fact had been perhaps the most interesting facet of the good doctor, and despite at least two hours of dialog with various members of the crew, they hadn’t come any closer to finding out just why Starfleet had sent a bioethicist to assist in a planetary survey. There were rumors of course, mind you. His yeoman, the strange little Roman boy – Augustus Quintus, had been rather forthcoming with the ship’s gossip – something Swain was rather coming to enjoy, having never really delved those murky waters in his prior commands – and the theories were as varied as the number of races in the Federation. Swain smirked; he supposed it couldn’t be helped, not after everything the Excalibur had seen, especially with their former commanding officer’s proclivities.

 

For his own, rather idle speculation, he assumed that whatever they’d found they weren’t entirely sure how to proceed and had asked Starfleet for someone to help them with such a conundrum and that further, ‘Fleet wanted to keep it all rather quiet given that they were technically operating in Dominion space. Not that he’d shared that with anyone, but it was his current running theory.

 

At least his crew had thus far behaved themselves. Sure, they’d been a little cliquish at first, but they seemed to settle in decently enough and engage the doctor in some lively discussions on his work and ethics in general. He had made a mental note, though, to address the issue of sneaking a flask into the function with his Chief of Security. While far from a tee-totaler (he did have a rather robust collection of wines stored away in his quarters), he also felt that decorum and regulations existed for a reason and he’d rather his senior officer’s not behave like academy brats and sneak liquor into the prom. Perhaps he’d ask Rue to handle it instead. She did seem to have a rather soft touch with such sticky issues, owing, he assumed, to her prior life as a medical officer.

 

Honestly, he’d come to rely more and more on her, trusting his executive officer to handle issues he’d rather not or was ill-equipped for, and she had handled them all with aplomb. Swain was thankful for her as well, as she’d made the transition far easier than it would have been if he’d not gotten on with his executive officer – which he’d not had any input into her selection.

 

Indeed, for all his grumpiness of late, he honestly had little to complain about when it came to his ship. Sure, they were all very colorful, but that was to be expected. He really did have a very fine crew that any commander should be proud to command.

 

Swain closed his eyes for a long moment and exhaled. Why was he so surly anyway? True he wasn’t happy about having the Cassini shanghaied away from him and plopped into a rather difficult command, but it wasn’t as if he’d gotten a crew from the land of misfittoys, or an ancient, rusty, sloop.

 

Letting himself begin to drift into sleep, he let his worries and his cares drift away as well, and for a time, his restless mind was at ease, adrift in the woods and fields of his homeworld.