She woke up screaming.

II.

Kat Mueller persisted in not being a morning person.

Indeed, that was why she had always been happy being an executive officer, the Starfleet equivalent of the first officer who operated on the nightside. (Indeed, considering her ability to perform on three hours’ sleep, she was on call day and night for the Tridentand consequently retained the rank of XO on her new ship.) She knew intellectually that there was no reason for her to feel preference for one time over the other. They were, after all, on a starship, bereft of natural light, having to depend upon dimming and rising of the onboard lighting to simulate a night/day shift. But night had always been her first, best love, going back to her childhood. Considering it was that ingrained, it was too late to fight it.

So as a general rule of thumb, Mueller tried not to deal with anything that looked as if it was going to be particularly challenging or aggravating when she first came on duty. Not that she wasn’t capable of doing so. She had a basic way of handling it, which was to present an outer demeanor that came across as if she were paying attention. Meanwhile, inside she just kept thinking, Go away, please, just go away,but no one could ever discern that.

Therefore, given her preferences, she would just as soon not have dealt with Lieutenant M’Ress first crack out of the box. But M’Ress had been insistent that she needed to speak with someone,and Mueller had the distinct feeling that if she didn’t handle it, the Caitian would take it upon herself to go to the captain. Certainly M’Ress seemed agitated enough to do so.

Mueller had been in her office when M’Ress had first shown up. Mueller preferred to ease into the day by spending an hour or so dealing with routine problems, ship’s issues, and such in her office, which was attached to her main quarters. It was not the general style for first officers to be anywhere but on the bridge; however, Shelby didn’t seem to mind.

On the one hand, she was concerned over what had M’Ress so worked up. On the other hand, she didn’t really care all that much and would just as soon have shut her down and sent her on her way. But she had given in to the inherent responsibility of her rank, and also to innate curiosity. As soon as M’Ress started talking, however, Mueller was regretting her decision ... particularly since it was early in the morning.

“Let me see if I understand this,” said Mueller, leaning forward, fingers interlaced and hands resting on the desk in front of her. “You’re saying that Lieutenant Commander Gleau ... ‘haunted’ you somehow? And while doing so, threatened your life?”

“I am saying that he projected himself into my mind and, while there, issued threats against me, yes.” M’Ress spoke with total conviction.

Mueller suspected M’Ress had no clue how ludicrous the things she was claiming sounded. “Do you have any clue how ludicrous this sounds?” asked Mueller.

M’Ress stared at her blankly. “No.”

Well, that confirms that.“Lieutenant,” she said carefully, then paused, and refocused her attention on her computer monitor. “Computer.”

“Working.”

“Access records, Selelvian race. Question: Do Selelvians possess any powers of thought transference, astral projection, or mind-meld?”

“Negative.”

M’Ress started to interrupt, but Mueller raised an index finger to quiet her and continued, “Question: Is a scenario in which a Selelvian inserts himself into someone’s dreams consistent with any known capabilities possessed by that race?”

“Negative.”

But M’Ress was simply shaking her head. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

“It doesn’t?”

“Commander, right up until Captain Kirk saw one on the Enterpriseviewscreen, the ship’s computer at the time would have answered ‘negative’ as to whether the Romulans were an offshoot of the Vulcans.”

Mueller shrugged. “Technically, it might simply have replied with ‘Unknown.’ ”

“All right, but the point is—with all respect to the far-reaching capabilities of Starfleet records—the computer only possesses data of that which is already known. If the Selelvians are capable of doing what I know Gleau did to me, and they’ve kept it a secret, then naturally the computer won’t tell you any different.”

“I believe, Lieutenant,” Mueller said frostily, “I know the capabilities of a starship’s computer.”

“I didn’t mean to imply ...”

“In fact,” she continued, “I would daresay that just about every person who first set foot on this ship knew the capabilities of a starship’s computer, with the sole exceptions of you and your fellow displaced associate, Lieutenant Arex.”

M’Ress’s mouth became a thin line, and the tips of her fangs showed. It wasn’t threatening, but she was clearly upset. Not that Mueller was particularly bothered by that. “Commander ... I’m not insane.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“I know when I’m dreaming.”

“I should hope so.”

“And what happened to me ... what happened last night ... it wasn’t just a dream. It was a deliberate threat, planted there by Lieutenant Commander Gleau. Truthfully, I don’t know whether he meant it or not ...”

“Well,” said Mueller in mock relief, “it’s a relief to know that he’s got that degree of leeway.”

“... but his intention was still clearly to upset or terrorize me in a way that would leave him with apparently clean hands.”

Mueller sighed heavily. “Lieutenant, what would you have me do?”

“Bring him in. Question him.” She pointed at the monitor on Mueller’s desk. “The computer can detect when someone’s lying. Ask him if he attacked me in my dreams. See what he says.”

“Lieutenant ...” Mueller felt like tearing out her blond hair, but she continued to keep her hands firmly on the desk in front of her ... although her fingers were interlaced so tightly that the knuckles were turning white. “Lieutenant, the fact that we have devices on this vessel that can tell when someone’s lying doesn’t mean we can employ them whenever we wish. There are still Starfleet rules and guidelines, and a fundamental respect for right to privacy.”

“What about myright to privacy?” she asked in exasperation. “How can I have any privacy from someone who invades my sleep?! You have to ask him—”

“I have no basis on which to do so! Don’t you understand that?”The instant Mueller’s outburst flew from her lips, she was irritated with herself that she had allowed it to happen. She was normally proud of her ability to keep her cool, probably stemming from her German upbringing. M’Ress, for her part, looked unruffled. Mueller almost admired her for that. Almost. “I can’t,” she continued, having brought herself under control, “simply start grilling Starfleet officers for no reason.”

“There is a reason.”

“So you say.”

“I would have thought that my saying so would have been enough.”

“Lieutenant,” she said with forced calm, “if you said to me that you witnessed an incident, that would indeed be more than enough reason for me to pursue it. But the bottom line here is: You had a bad dream.Believe it or not, Lieutenant, we don’t all operate autonomously here. We have logs to keep, procedures to follow. Do you seriously expect me to list in the official Starfleet recording of my activities, ‘Cause of action: Time-displaced Caitian had a bad dream’?”

It seemed to Mueller as if M’Ress’s hackles were starting to rise. With others, that was merely a broadly descriptive term. For M’Ress, it was literal. A low hum was coming from her that sounded like something that was the opposite of a purr. “Permission to speak freely.”

She leaned back in her chair, her interlaced fingers now resting comfortably in her lap. “Knock yourself out.”

M’Ress looked momentarily bewildered. “You want me to ... what?”