“What gives one the right to believe in the existence of a certain material thing is simply the fact that one has certain sensations.”

J. Ayer. (1936)

 

Fleet Captain John Kingsman was not above rolling up his sleeves and doing the washing up.

Of course, this was largely a euphemism in the 25^th century, as most people just used the replicator to decompile the crockery and cutlery that was created alongside whatever fantastical dish that the inhabitants of this utopian society of peace and plenty desired to conjure up via the replicator.

Yet John was something of a traditionalist (one might even say a nostalgist) and, whilst the culinary marvels that could be coaxed in facsimile from the revolutionary matter – compiler looked, smelled, felt and tasted identical to their more traditional corporeal counterparts, the CO of the USS Lexington couldn’t be shaken from the belief that something that you took the time to prepare with the industry of your own two hands just tasted…..better somehow.

So, therefore the most powerful man, commanding one of the Federation’s most powerful vessels, currently had his hands in a sink of very hot, soapy water and was taking great care to ensure that each porcelain plate was free from blemish, before rinsing it under a cold tap and placing it on a rack to dry, whilst his guests repaired from the table and seated themselves in the comfortable lounge area of his personal quarters.

Benson took the plate from the rack and began to dry it with a clean dishtowel, asking in that carefully modulated and understated voice of his.

“Would you like me to serve the guests coffee now, Captain?”

Lost in his thoughts (why was it that the simple ritual of plate – cleaning almost always brought on an almost Zen – like state of introspection?), Kingsman emerged and smiled at the Special Services Hologram, who served as his personal valet.

“Yes. Please do, Benson. You may also wish to see if anyone still wants anymore of the wine, or if they would prefer a disgestif?”

The urbane Englishman smiled as he rinsed the last of the cutlery and placed it in the basket, drying his own hands on another dishcloth. He too was feeling the more pleasant effects of the St Emilion he had served with dinner and decided that the larger pots and pans could wait until tomorrow (although he was sure that Benson wouldn’t abide this and would do them after the captain had gone to bed).

“I know for a fact that Commander Homel is particularly fond of a Saurian brandy after his meal and I think we still have some of that bottle left that we picked on of Rigel#4?”

Benson, the Photonic – helper who had been with John for more years that he cared to remember (he was an avowed bachelor) and sometimes took of the more protective spousal aspects of their relationship, shook his head and murmured.

“I’m afraid that the last bottle met an ignominious fate in the aftermath of the Bajoran film – festival last month.”

John put his hands on the counter of the kitchen’s central island bench and clicked his teeth with his tongue.

“So, it did. So, it did.” He recalled with a lighthearted shake of his head, that was far removed from the headache that had followed the end of that particular bottle. Salt and pepper had begun to dust the sides of his hair and shot through in his neatly – kempt beard. Such things used to be so much easier to recover from when you were younger!

“Well in that case, he’ll just have to grin and bear it and make do with an Earth – version then. The Darroze Grands Assemblages 40-year-old should tickle his fancy, I fancy?” The hirsute CO decided.

“We’ll take coffee in the lounge and then you can go offline Bennet. Thank you tonight.” Kingsman thanked the SSH.

Despite being fully aware that Benson was just a holographic projection, John had come to personify the SSH and, over a long period of association, had come to even think of it as a friend. He saw no dichotomy in such a relationship; indeed, it was a commonality that was well established throughout the Federation and its neighbors.

Photonically – based projections were as ubiquitous as a can – opener in 25^th century society. Those that had grown up with these sophisticated golems of light, energy and forcefields to appear solid and interactable, had no more cause to question their existence or utility than would one of their 20^th century ancestors about a television set.

By and large all holograms aboard the USS Lexington were slaved in some way to the ships computer itself and were by extension an extension of itself.

Through the sophisticated application of the Holomatrix powerful (limited) Ai that was the agile brain of the great vessel, it  managed and manipulated the inbuilt holoemitters throughout its hull to reconfigure internal spaces, recreate cultural or educational experiences, establish mass casualty treatment areas, conjure up fantastical words in Holodeck or Holosuite entertainments for the crew to while away their off – duty hours, or create a virtual crew roster of photonic individuals to assist its flesh and blood crew in a range of duties (especially those considered onerous or a waste of human resources).

Bennet, for example, was the perfect personal assistant. Yet John was an Englishman and expressly because the country of his birth still stubbornly held on to and harbored certain archaic cultural norms around class and ‘breeding’, could not fully commit himself to seeing or treating Benson like a servant. Thus, he always made sure that he did his share, when using Benson to help him entertain.

Captain Kingsman had learned long ago, when he himself had been a callow and green junior officer, from his then Commanding Officer – the value in taking the time to get to know the people that you worked alongside. As one climbed the precarious career ladder and those people began to work under you, the importance of being as intimate with who they were (within appropriate boundaries) only grew the higher you climbed.

Thus, John like to invite a select group of senior and junior officers to dine with him at least once a month. It was a good way to establish a rapport and such familiarity often became something essential to any good commander when the ship and its crew were tested sorely in the line of duty.

He took up his own wine glass (deciding that he had probably had an elegant sufficiency and would soon switch to coffee) and stood for a moment, regarding his guests as they chatted after an excellent meal.

Of course, no good CO ever wastes any opportunity to kill two (or more) birds with one stone and, as ever, John Kingsman had an ulterior motive in the selection of his dinner guests.

Most obviously, his selection of his new Executive Officer, the wan and lovely Captain Samantha Hyland.

Whilst it was key that he got to know his new ‘right-hand’ and this was also an opportunity for Sam to meet with the officers under her in more convivial circumstances, he was keenly aware that there were certain rumors floating around the Task Force when it can to this divisive and mercurial officer.

That she had been removed from command of the USS Valley Forge, also that she had been involved in some way, in the fracas at Joint Base Dathon and even that she had tried to kill the Chief Engineer of the USS Vanguard. **

Scuttlebutt aboard a starship was an inevitability and the facts it telegraphed from person – to – person was invariably distorted and far removed from original fact, yet Captain Kingsman knew that it could not be suppressed and was better controlled with a more pervasive narrative.

One of the rare and far – between advantages of surviving in your career long enough to attain the lofty – rank of Fleet Captain, was that the title permitted you to be privy of a level of information not typically available to the rank and file.

Through Commodore Jalian, Kingsman knew the full extent of this woman’s service history, of the wrongs that had been done to her in the name of service and of the deep costs that Captain Samantha Hyland had been forced to pay in the execution of her duty. That was one of the primary reasons why he had requested that she be assigned to the Lexington to replace his outgoing Executive Officer.

Sam Hyland deserved a new start and the opportunity not to clear her name, but to forge a new and brighter future, at least for the time she had left to her.

For her part, Samantha seemed at ease with the other officers as the chatted around the couch and Kingsman strove hard to discern the stresses of her traumas as the blonde-haired woman smiled and conversed with the Assistant Chief Science Officer, Thierry LaValle and his charming husband, Peter, who himself served as a Lieutenant with the ship’s operation department.

True, the Frenchman was effervescent and as gregarious a raconteur as one could hope to meet at a social function and John decided that Samantha was in good hands for the time being. The same might not be said of the disposition of the Lexington’s other new addition.

Midshipman Emily Eaves seemed to have been cornered by the avuncular Commander Homel and the bald – headed Orion Chief Scientist was doubtless in the throes of boring the poor young lady to death with some scientific diatribe or another, such was his habit.

Thankfully Benson interrupted at just the right time (with carefully chosen tact, Jon knew) to serve Homel with his drink. The Orion frowned at the amber contents suspiciously.

“Oh, don’t have such a long face, Homel!” John maneuverered himself between the CSO and his newest junior officer diplomatically, coming to her rescue. “It’ll do you good to try new things. In repetition we find atrophy!” The CO smiled and winked at Emily conspiratorially.

The Midshipman politely suppressed a smile and Kingsman pressed on.

“So, what facet of genetics is the Commander impressing upon you this evening, Midshipman Eaves?

Kingsman smiled impishly, seeking to give the poor girl a conversational reprieve, from which she could extricate herself and escape, but was pleasantly surprised when Emily replied politely.

“Actually, the Commander was speaking about the ‘Evolutionary genetics of invasive species’. “the fresh – faced young redhead nodded graciously to Homel, who was now sniffing tentatively at the tumbler of Brandy.

“Was he now?” Kingsman smiled and frowned playfully at the CSO. Like most scientists, if you gave Homel an opening, any chink in your armor where he could open up on a subject matter close to his heart, you were probably doomed to be under siege for the rest of the evening as he held forth at length.

Homel just smiled and shrugged, good naturedly and took a sip. John was gratified to see the look of satisfaction on his face and the CO nodded to Benson that he could deactivate for the evening. The hologram smiled diffidently and unobtrusively exited the room.

Emily Eaves nodded with enthusiasm.

“Yes, the Commander was explaining how genetic and demographic factors affect the success of species introduced outside of their native range.” The Midshipman paraphrased as she made sure that her dress was demurely arranged as she recrossed her legs on the couch.

“In the context of biological invasions, the mechanisms of evolution, natural selection and genetic drift typify invasive species and inform the development of management practices. I suggested that humanity’s interactions with the Borg, in some ways, represented that relationship in compression.” The bright young girl nodded and Homel tilted his glass towards her in assent.

“I also think that the concept of ‘Plasticity’ has great bearing on a given population’s capacity for range expansions. The Borg, whilst socially abhorrent in respect as an invasive species, are able to leverage that plasticity to achieve vastly accelerated technological development – gains. It’s certainly a sobering comparison, don’t you think?”

“I’m beginning to think that Science Division may have lost out on a bright candidate, but I suppose our loss is Command’s gain!” The Orion demurred in a complimentary fashion and took another sip of his brandy, warming to it now.

Captain Kingsman smiled. There was a singular pleasure in being in the presence of a fresh young mind, unfettered by the constraints of age and experience. He was certainly glad to be entertaining such a bright young woman aboard ship, for her freshman cruise and made a mental note to explore if she was amenable to staying on permanently as part of the ship’s compliment, once she graduated the Academy (which he had no doubt she would, if she had the character to survive an old bore like Homel!).

“And how are you settling in?” The CO asked and poured Emily a cup of coffee from the cafetière that Benson had deposited on the table, before departing, being careful to let her add her own accoutrements.

Emily’s smile only grew wider and more beautiful as she took the proffered cup and saucer and helped herself to milk.

“It’s been a wonderful experience so far, Sir!” Emily enthused, “Everyone’s been so welcoming and patient. I must admit it was a bit daunting at first, but Pan has been absolutely amazing, and she’s introduced me to so many people onboard, already!”

Kingsman smiled. The Pan hologram had certainly demonstrated its worth time and time again. It was easy to forget, from a position of authority, what a daunting prospect it was to step aboard a starship of some three thousand crew (and countless more visitors) and try to find your way as a new crew member. The Personal Acclimation Node was a development of the ship’s Holomatrix that had shown real dividends and John was glad that the new Midshipman was benefitting from the interaction.

“I’m glad to hear that.” The CO nodded and caught the XO’’s eye. Taking her cue, Samantha extricated herself from the effortlessly charming Theirry and Peter LaValle and made her way over to where the trio were sitting.

“And, of course, you’ve had the opportunity to meet our new First Officer?” Kingsman said to Emily, by way of Segway he added.

“Samantha started out as a Communications Specialist herself, when she was first commissioned. Isn’t that right, Captain?”

Hyland smiled and nodded. Emily thought she had a lovely smile, but her eyes looked kind of sad. Like they couldn’t join in with the good cheer.

“That’s right.” Sam nodded and reached over to pour herself a cup of the strong, fragrant dark coffee., taking it black but adding a sugar against its vigor.

“I served aboard Starbase 72, when I first graduated the Academy, later moving to my first shipboard deployment aboard the USS Savannah.” The Executive Officer confirmed and took a seat next to Emily, adding.

“Time have certainly changed from when all Midshipman could look forward to was a bunk in the hallway of a California – class.” Sam smiled playfully and took a sip of her coffee. “You’re very fortunate indeed to be taking your cruise of a ship – of – the – line.”

Emily blushed and Kingsman decided to step in and spare her any further embarrassment.

“I like to think that the Lexington is a place that both attracts and harbors exceptionalism.” The CO injected diplomatically, knowing that the inference applied equally to both the new XO as much as the Midshipman. Changing the subject again, he deftly diverted.

“Speaking of evolution, Captain, how did the field-evaluation of Hazard Team ‘Prism’ go today?”

An unreadable expression clouded the smooth features of the Executive Officer and Samantha put her coffee cup back down on the table.

“Ostensibly the demonstration went well.” She reported guardedly, there would be time tomorrow for the CO to go over the formal review she had prepared, but for now she kept the vanguard of her more serious reservations to herself.

“The AHH program certainly shows promise in terms of operational effectiveness under simulated conditions.” The XO allowed. “Certainly, they seem to outperform their human counterparts by some degrees of scale.”

Intrigued, Kingsman sat back and took up his own cup, not drinking, but considering his new First Officer from over its steaming rim. It was essential he understood how she thought, and they were too early into their relationship to naturally intuit yet.

“Somehow I sense that there is a “But”, lingering in there somewhere?” Kingsman guessed correctly.

Samantha sighed a nodded, going on to explain guardedly.

“I have reservations about oversight and the readiness of this technology to be deployed autonomously in the field. I rather think that I haven’t won any friends with Chief Drachmann, but I worry that by handing control over to a technological construct, including the ability to kill in extreme circumstances, is to surrender more than a legal or ethical constraint. I worry that it might be the gateway to broader disaster.”

Captain Kingsman frowned, prompting.

“Did something occur during the demonstration that caused you to develop this concern?”

Sam shook her head, her hand unconsciously moving to smooth her straw – blonde hair back into place.

“On the contrary, the simulation proceeded as planned and after – action analysis confirms that the AHH’s performed above and beyond all expectations.” The Executive Officer admitted.

John took a sip and searched for the reason for the Exec’s disquiet.

“So, what’s the issue, as you see it?” He prompted.

Sam winced, disliking that her opposition now had an audience, even if it was just the ships CSO and a young girl. She shifted in her seat and went on to explain.

“Call it a gut – feeling, but I remain unconvinced that we should be unleashing a weapon as smart and as capable as Hazard Team ‘Prism’, without an organic finger on their safety – catch. The technology appears proven, and I would admit that if the AHH’s were deployed in a ‘trusted – wingman’’ capacity to support a standard Hazard Team in the field, then they would prove a valuable tool.”

“But that’s just it. They are a tool and not a person and I don’t think we should relinquish the decision – making duty of care that comes with our humanity to a machine, simply because we have created something that can do things better than we can.” Sam asserted with finality.

John Kingsman was silent from some time. He came to note that the conversation in the rest of the room had gradually subsided as Samantha had held forth on her evaluation of the new Holographic Hazard Team technology and was adroit enough as a host to realize that the mood had been diminished and it was time to draw this evening’s festivities to an end.

“Thank you for being so candid. That’s certainly something to bear very seriously in mind. Thank you, Captain.” John nodded earnestly and smiled. He then turned to address his guests as a whole, declaring.

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m on bridge duty in eight hours’ time and I don’t want to be late. I hear the man that runs this place is a real ball – breaker!” He rose and held his hands out graciously.

This last joke at his own expense elicited a round of polite laughter amongst the assembled guests.

“Thank you everyone for your company and conversation this evening. I hope you have all had a good time and wish you a good night’s rest.” John farewelled his guests, who nodded their thanks and made polite farewells as they left in pairs or alone, for their own quarters.

“Captain, a moment if you will?” Kingsman called out as Hyland was leaving, and Sam held back until the pair were alone in the CO’s sprawling quarters, with only the beautiful neon – stream of the stars at warp, flowing past the viewports.

The XO looked at him with a slightly quizzical expression on her fine features. John decided that the hour really was late, so he cut right to the chase.

“Sam. I’d like to start by expressing how much I value having you onboard and that I believe that you really bring something unique to the role of Executive Officer.” Kingsman assured the woman.

“Thank you, Sir.”

The CO waved his hand dismissively.

“Of duty, in private – it’s just John.” He asserted, but then his tone took on a more serious note.

“I’ll be honest when I say that there was opposition, in some circles, to your appointment. Speaking plainly, the experiences you have been through worry a lot of people, but I believe that experience forges people and decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Samantha said nothing, sensing there was more to come.

“Yet that doubt persists and there can be no doubt between you and I.” John warned.

“Dr Harrington came to me earlier today. The woman’s on the warpath because you, allegedly, re – programmed her pet EMH and deleted is memory to erase the recording of your last counselling session. The Doc’s nothing short of ropable at the moment and, she’s from Texas, so honestly, I’d steer clear of her for a while, if I were you.”

Hyland looked like she was about to say something in her own defence, but the CO stopped her.

“Commodore Jalian instructed that you must attend those mandatory counselling sessions as a hard – requirement of your release and re-assignment under my command. Whilst I understand your reticence to share the experiences that have brought you here, those sessions are the insurance that those experiences will not impede your ability to serve as Executive Officer and place this ship and her crew in jeopardy.”

John Kingsman put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“From here on in, you will attend those counselling sessions, and you will engage in the process in good faith. Failure to do so will result in me packing your ass off back to Starbase 72 without a so much as a second thought. Am I being clear, Captain?”

To her credit, Hyland took her dressing down without so much as a tic passing her face.

“Crystal, Sir.”

“Very good.” Kingsman nodded. “Thank you for your company this evening, Samantha and for your frank assessment of Chief Drachmann’s new toy. For what it’s worth I share your misgivings to a certain point but will consider all inputs before I make my final recommendation to Starfleet Command.”

“Have a good night’s sleep, Captain. Tomorrow’s just another day.”

John stayed true to his word not to reactivate Benson and began to clear the coffee service onto a tray. As he did so, he called over his shoulders to the departing Executive Officer.

 

“Oh! And Sam? Your next counselling session will be held with a real, flesh and blood Counsellor!!!”