Academics and Families

From TFC Galactopedia

Captain Michael Collin McLoude looked about his ready-room with a soft sigh rubbing his eyes gently from his notes and the screen of his terminal. It seemed a bit small, but that was mostly because of the shelves of books, real, paper and ink books, lining the bulkheads that took up a fair amount of deck-space. He even had a small stack most the time on his desk right next to his terminal. Books were one of the Akita’s true passions. He held four in life: His family, Starfleet, specifically the crew of the USS Galaxy, languages and books. He collected books from wherever he could; he had several from Vulcan, even one tome of Kahless from the Klingon Homeworld. The majority he admitted however were from his homeworld of Terra. Be it Latin, English or any number of languages he had them. He admitted one of his most prized possessions was an original copy of The Federalist Papers that his wife had found and given him on their first wedding anniversary. She still refused to tell him how she had found the work, nearly six hundred years old, in such a wonderful condition. He had immediately had a friend specially treat the work so he could read it without fear of damaging it. After all he thought with a bit of a smirk, what was the point of having books if you could not read them?

At that moment he had been working a bit on his hobby of learning languages. It was, he admitted, a never-ending process, once he became literate in one, he moved on to the next, mostly so he could read the books he collected. Such as this new one, admittedly a bit of an oddity in his collection, a two-hundred-fifty year old Ferengi Buisness Applications and Statutes manual, along with a full collection of the Rules of Acquisition up to that point. He had admittedly acquired it to try to get some sort of insight into the Ferengi. He always felt as if he should be calling his Chief Engineer to make sure that the warp-core was still where it was suppose to be after finishing dealings with them. The problem was the Ferengi language was one of the most, well, interesting was a good way to put it, written forms he knew off. It branched out from the center like an old-fashioned spider-chart like something a student might use to take notes in class. The problem was things tended to overlap on the page and became a little confusing as to where exactly one train of thought started, and where it ended. Even the Galaxy’s onboard database was a little nebulous when it came to Ferengi.

Luckily he was a gifted linguist. He spoke not only Standard English, but four other tongues fluently, most notable High Vulcan and actually Klingon, and was conversant in at least four more. He had actually wanted to start his career in Starfleet as a Xeno-linguist. However, in his first assignment a lieutenant by the name of Allen Rikes had grabbed hold of him and showed he had an excellent diplomatic and tactical mind, leading to his rise to command, finally ending with his current position, captain of the Galaxy-class starship USS Galaxy, which his old friend had sponsored him to.

Michael chuckled and shook his head, how many of his family had been Starfleet captains? And how many had refused promotion after promotion just to stay with the ships and crews they loved? It was a running joke that the command chairs of ships McLoudes had commanded had to be replaced after they were promoted, because they were damaged beyond repair by dragging their owners kicking and screaming to the promotion stand. Michael was very sure he would be the same as the long line of ancestors that had served in Starfleet since its very inception. After all, Galaxy to him was more than a command; it was the home he had settled into to finish raising his family.

As if that thought was a cue the door to his ready room slid open with a bear whisper. He didn’t even have to look up from his terminal to know who it was, only one being had that sort of access to him on the Galaxy.

“Hello Mika…” he said in a soft, loving voice as he looked up. Standing in front of him was a small, especially for a malamute, woman with dark hair and fur with white markings, her eyes a brilliant crystal blue, another oddity in malamutes. She didn’t wear a Starfleet uniform; instead it was a simple blouse and skirt of conservative design, a communicator pin adorning it. His wife was not officially Starfleet, and therefore did not have to wear a uniform, but, as the headmistress of the school aboard the Galaxy. However, she was under his command with several actual officers that served specifically as teachers under her. This gave her a place in the command structure, however nebulous and the right to wear a combadge.

“Chaser’s pacing the carpet off the deck in our quarters,” she said without pre-amble as she crossed the space to his desk and with all the grace and elegance her training in gymnastics and higher than average psycho-motor and reflexes allowed her. “The acceptance transmission is two days overdue.”

Michael sighed and repressed a chuckle at his eldest son’s anxiety as he closed the book he had been working on. “He does realize that we are at the very edge of the sub-space relay network for Earth, it will take more time to get here.”

“You try telling him that, he’s been worried about this ever since he sent off his application.”

“He had some of the highest scores of any teenager his age onboard for the School of Engineering, especially in morality and ethics…”

“Thanks to you and Allen,” Mika smiled ruefully, it was well known that Michael McLoude was a stalwart defender of the ethics and morals the Federation was founded on and drilled it into his children, however unconsciously, by his own actions. It was a playful, matrimonial joke that Mika shot at him every once and a while, and did so because she knew she was much the same way.

“…as well as being in the top tenth percentile on the entrance exam. Commander T’lara said he had a ‘most logical’ approach to it when he administered the exam.”

“Coming from your Vulcan first officer, that is rather high praise.”

“Exactly, which is why I have no doubt he will receive an appointment to the Academy, especially with Allen as his sponsor,” it was a bit of a an archaic option in the entrance process to Starfleet Academy, harkening back to the days of the Royal Sandhurst Academy, Annapolis or West Point back on Terra. An applicant could have his chances boosted, even if it was a minuscule boost, if he were ‘sponsored’ by a well regarded officer in the Fleet with a letter of recommendation. A similar tradition carried over into captaincy as well, though most outside the fleet didn’t know about it.

“You try telling your son that, I remember when you were waiting for your acceptance transmission Michael. Your father nearly had your mother sedate you and that was only forty-eight hours after sending the transmission from the Agamemnon. Chaser is a full three weeks into that wait.”

“Well, we could actually have Willow sedate him…” he had meant the comment as a tension reliever.

Mika sighed. “She’d never agree to that and you know it, what about putting him to work in engineering, you know, studying warp theory under Lad? I can give him a few more practical lab assignments…”

Michael shook his head. “Would you want Chaser anywhere near the warp core in his condition?”

Mika sighed. “Ok, do you have any suggestions? I’m all out, Danny’s getting frustrated at him, and Anton and Angel are, as they put it, ‘officially freaking out’ that their brother won’t even talk to them half the time anymore.” She shook her head gently, trying to figure out where the resurgence in 21st century slang that her youngest children, a set of twins, and the other children their age of Terran ancestry aboard, had come from.

Michael sighed and shook his head. One of the disadvantages, if one could really call it such, of such a close nit family was when one member was distressed, all of them tended to feed off of that. “I bet Bambi’s pounded Anton for being edgy…”

Mika sighed gently. “I wonder what he sees in that doberman to be honest, I mean, she’s a nice girl but… a little crass…”

Michael chuckled, “he sees what I see in you, and what Chaser sees in Krystal.” He smiled gently, “by the way, why not just let Krystal pound some sense into him?”

Mika smirked, “I would if she wasn’t taking her exam to clear for the College of Medical Sciences, its an all day test, so he won’t see her again probably till tomorrow. She’s been the only one that could calm him down the last few weeks.”

Michael smiled at that, the one constant in is eldest son’s life was that the little collie he adored and loved kept him on his toes and in line. “Well, when she finishes she should be able to get him straight, for at least a little while.”

Before his wife had a chance to answer the comms chirped gently and Michael stepped back to his desk and tapped the command on his terminal. “Yes?”

“Captain,” the smooth voice of Commander T’lara responded. “we have received our normal daily transmission data from Starfleet Command. There is a data-packet I believe you’re son would like to have.”

Michael couldn’t help but smirk as he looked up at his wife and nodded. “All right Commander.”

With that Michael took up his captain’s field jacket, a uniform made popular by Captain Picard, and shrugged it on before walking out of his ready-room and onto the bridge. There, a slender, elegant Vulcan bat stood with a graceful stoicism that Michael had come to expect and admire from those of his First Officer’s kind. “Captain, Headmistress,” the Vulcan said in greeting to each with an inclination of her head, Mika trying not to wince at the term. She wondered why the Vulcan always had to be so formal, using that term everywhere, and at almost every time. T’lara for her part simple stepped to her left, vacating the command chair for Michael and handing him a PADD. “Sir, here is the transmission.”

Michael nodded and accepted it as he sat down in the command chair, taking a read as his wife took up the chair to his right. Michael ran his bridge somewhat looser when it came to civilians being allowed. Only on special occasions, or in Mika’s case, were an actual member of the crew in some fashion, but still that was looser than most.

“Computer, open a channel to Captain McLoude’s quarters,” Michael asked the computer and soon he received a verifying chirp from the Venture. “Chaser, Please report to the bridge.”

The akita could almost sense the anxiousness in his son’s voice. “All right Father,” and with that the computer chirped, ending the transmission. At which Michael quickly keyed in to his terminal on his chair to allow his son access to the bridge.

Even with a ship the size of the Galaxy, the Turbolifts did not take very long to open and deposit the teenaged canine on the bridge. Tall and broad shouldered for his age, the young canine wore slacks, a shirt and a light leather jacket over his clothes, the climate onboard starships was usually a touch cool. One could also see the anxiety that had built up over the last three weeks in the canine’s mismatched eyes, probably his most distinguishing feature, his left blue, and his right brown. “What is it Father?” There was both expectancy, and dread in his voice at that comment.

Michael smiled and stood slowly from his chair, Mika watching from where she sat, beaming at her son in pride, though he didn’t notice it. “Attention to orders,” Michael announced a bit formally, an old, arcane traditional announcement for such things that dated back to blue-water navy times. The akita held up the PADD and started reading. “To, Chaser Allen McLoude. From the Office of the Commandant of Starfleet Academy. As of this date, Mr. McLoude has been fully accepted for an appointment to Starfleet Academy, School of Engineering Sciences. Upon recipient of this acceptance notice, Mr. McLoude is forthwith granted the distinction of Cadet. Admiral S’colo of Vulcan, Starfleet Academy Commandant.”

Everyone on the bridge had turned and were smiling at the bit of liberty their captain was taking in giving his son his appointment orders that way, but none cared, Chaser was a well known and well liked young canine aboard, mainly because of his gentle personality and ernestness whenever they ran into him. Chaser for his part was stunned, though, he really shouldn’t have been, he still couldn’t believe it. “They accepted me?”

Mika held in a soft giggle at her son’s amazement, se knew that he was still wound u p with all that nervous energy and it was taking a bit to get through his mind. Admittedly she wanted to get up and hug her son, who she now had to go onto her very tiptoes just to barely reach his cheeks, but this was neither the time nor place, she would do that away from the business of the bridge, as to not embarrass her son.”

Before his father could comment T’lara cocked her head. “That is exactly what the message said Cadet McLoude, you are accepted, to think anything else would be highly irrational.”

Michael couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle as Chaser sheepishly and nodded at T’lara. “Yes ma’am, just, well, a little overwhelmed.”

Michael smiled, and gave the PADD to his son, it was his after all really, and patted him on the back. “Congratulations son, and welcome to Starfleet.”