[Captain’s Ready Room – USS Anaheim]

Once the docking clamps had been loosened and the ship was on its way the Captain nodded to his bridge crew with instructions that they should continue on what they were doing. Though most of the crew seemed to be new, a result of a nearly full rotation following the attack of the Borg on Fleet Day he was pretty sure anyone but the most brain dead Ensign could handle driving a ship straight for a few hours. Captain Hawthorne was not a micromanager. As long as things got done, and he looked good having had them done he was fine with it, four years of acting as a glorified baby sitter to young doctors had taught him not to sweat the small stuff. It was not as if the doctors ever really wanted his opinions anyway. That was why his First Officer was once again one of them, at least this time he was not a Captain as well which had happened on his first year on the USS Anaheim.

”In about half an hour can you join me Mister McCleod?” he said before the door slid shut.

Half an hour gave him a chance to send a communique to his mother, and a status update to the fleet. Not that the fleet needed it but he had so little that he could actually do to stand out that he figured at least he’d stay on top of status reports. His mother just needed to know now to try calling him on the starbase and instead route any future messages via his command. 

About half an hour later the First Officer rang at his door. The man was tall, with broad shoulders and a Scottish accent. He would have been intimidating but he was a doctor, and they had codes and such. He was also older than Hawthorne which the Captain was surprised by but he supposed getting a medical degree took some time.

”Would you rather be called Doctor McCleod or how would you like me to address you?” Hawthorne asked, directing the new number one to a chair across from him at the desk. 

“I did go to medical school captain,” the man said acting as if he did not particularly care, “however you are in charge. I’m the first officer, and so you can call me whatever you like.“

Hawthorne knew that meant he’d preferred to be called Doctor McCleod but was not going to fight on the issue. However he knew that the new Chief Medical Officer, whose duties were predominately to be the ship’s doctor in charge was going to set her foot down. At least the Counsellor didn’t have a doctorate this time. 

“Alright Doctor,” he said, pretending he also did not care either way. It was just frustrating that every voyage he went on with his own command he was at the whims of these doctors, rather than a proper exploration or combat purpose. He knew they did good work, but gosh all that education made them pompous like Vulcans, and least he had fewer Vulcans this time.

He stood and got himself a coffee from the replicator on the far wall, “Would you like something?”

”A water is fine,” Doctor McCleod said and was shortly holding a glass of ice water.

”From my perspective this first voyage is pretty simple. The crew gets its sea legs, and I get to know you all. We have a Chief Counsellor straight out of the Academy so she’ll need some hand holding. A first time Chief Medical Officer, and more. Everyone but us is pretty green on this cruise. I have to pick a Second Officer at some point from our Lieutenant Commanders, which we have three. I’d appreciate your suggestions,” Hawthorne said, trying to include the first officer in the decision even though picking his most senior staff was one of the duties Hawthorne most enjoyed.

”Of course sir,” McCleod said nodding.

”I’d also like a report at the end of the week on deficiencies,” the Captain said, “Anything we could improve, either procedures, equipment, or crew. I trust you can find some things.”

Nothing was perfect, and certainly not the USS Anaheim. Maybe if its performance improved enough then that long awaited reassignment to a more important ship would come. 

The door chimed indicating that some one was wanting entrance. Hawthorne inclined in his chair and said, “Come.”

In came Yuhiro Kolem a newly minted Lieutenant Junior Grade who due to the craziness of Fleet Day had been given to him as his Chief Counsellor which was both an indication on how lowly Counsellors were valued on this ship, and what regard this posting was held in by the fleet. Still her dark Betazoid eyes were startling to the Captain and he knew that he was lucky she was not a full telepath.

”Lieutenant,” he said nodding in acknowledgement, “How are you settling in?”

”Good sir,“ she said. She was stiff and formal, a sign that she had not served with many (or any) Captains before. He was not mad about that, having at least one member of the senior staff respect him was better than a bunch of doctors.