The contents of the Ship Logs are considered to be a "compilation" under the provisions of Title 17, U.S. Code (known as the Copyright Act): that is, "A work formed by the collection and assembling of preexisting materials or of data that is selected, coordinated or arranged in such a way that the resulting work as a whole constitutes an original work of authorship." As such, it is the property of the ship’s Captain; however, automatic transfer of ownership to STARSHIPS OF THE THIRD FLEET is effected upon publication of this mission by the ship’s Captain ipso facto.

As outlined in Circular 1 (Copyrighted Basics, Library of Congress, Washington DC, USGPO 1989-262-309/12), "copyrighted in each separate contribution to a periodical or other collective work is distinct from the copyright in the collective work as a whole and vests initially with the author of the contribution."

There was no stand down for the USS Starquest.

The day before the ship was to dock at Starbase 47 and leave was to begin, a message flashed through subspace to throw a monkey wrench into plans of the crew. Federation Scientists had been "observing anomalies in the shifts of the gravitational patterns in Sector 431, distortions indicating displacements by unknown influences. Headquarters interpreted that to mean that the phenomena needed to be investigated immediately, and, thusly, cut and transmitted orders to that effect to the science research vessel USS Starquest NCC 2894.

True, it was the first assignment in a very long time that had nothing to do with belligerent aliens, temporal shifts, and hot pursuits of invaders over light years of space, and out of our own galaxy. True, it was an assignment utilizing the ship for what she was designed to do. True, it was an assignment that employed the skills of the crew to the fullest.

True . . . it was bloody convenient.

Nevertheless, the crew was ordered into Sector 431, and investigated the "anomalies" and "distortions," and conducted experiments to determine what might be the "unknown influences" causing them, and became momentarily excited that they found evidence of dark matter, a quantifiable mass of space. They transmitted all this information and data to Federation Science in New York, NA, and then began the trip back to Daran VI-D as they were ordered. There would not even be a trip to Starbase 47.

There was no stand down for the USS Starquest NCC 2894.

Of course, there would be "leave" of a sort. The usual, dry, spiritless R&R at the station's facilities, drinking, shopping, lounging listlessly, surrounded by a huge metal structure floating in space. Someone pointed out that they could do that on the ship. But, as loyal as the crew was to the captain and fond of the ship, or committed to the service of the Federation and Starfleet there was something unappealing about "relaxing" at a Starfleet installation. No. That wasn't anybody's idea of leave.

Except for Charles Cooke. For some reason, the engineer was thrilled at the possibility of visiting Third Fleet Headquarters; something having to do with "playing with the big boys." For awhile it looked like he would drag Bengemin Childress along in his enthusiastic wake, but the transporter chief resisted the temptation and grumbled under his breath like most of the rest of the officers.

The attitude of the enlisted personnel, while not mutinous, was irritable, and they passively challenged many of the standard orders they were given. Slowly it was becoming evident that all the unrelieved pressure of the previous year was beginning to take its toll.

The first sign that real trouble was brewing was on Terran New Years Eve. Commander Michael Stevens, the new XO, late of the Concord, appeared on the bridge at 2357 UST 2310.31.12. bearing a tray of laden with a bottle and several champagne flutes. Captain Dunning wheeled about in her seat eyes widening at the sight. Surak turned toward the smiling OPS officer, from his position at NAV and, uncharacteristically, turned away as if avoiding an impending collision. Scar raised his head from the COMM station, saw the new officer bearing gifts and snarled slightly. Ronough, at SEC, lifted his head, acknowledged the scene and returned to his scans. Science Officer Edwards gasped audibly. Tara Running Wolf froze in horror, not believing her eyes. K 'nra Tal S'yn busied himself at the helm, and spoke to Surak without lifting his head.

"Let me guess; our new first officer has appeared on the bridge with champagne." Surak stared at the helmsman, blinked, then nodded.

"That's an incredible observation worthy of a Vulcan. How did you know?" Tal S'yn smiled

"It got verrrrrrrry quiet," he said.

Stevens took all of this in and was dumbfounded. He had expected a rush of excited appreciation. Instead he was being greeted with benign indifference. He approached the center seat, and leaned to whisper to the skipper.

"Captain Dunning . . . ," he began, but the skipper raised her hand and cut him off. "I'm sure the gesture is appreciated, Commander. But," she sighed, "the last thing this watch wants to see is a bottle of champagne on the bridge."

Stevens blinked, not understanding why.

"Let me explain, briefly. One year ago, about this time, a bottle of champagne was brought to the bridge, and we drank a toast to the New Year. At that instant, the Jirzzaque attacked the frontiers’ starbase. We spent the next two days regaining control of the starbase, the frontier, and following the Jirzzaque through the temporal rift into another galaxy, escaping and returning to our own." Dunning paused, obviously pained. "Many were killed on that mission. And no one escaped in one way or another. So, you can understand…"

Stevens stood engrossed in the story.

"No one's ever mentioned it, but, as you can see," she indicated the scope of the bridge, "no one is even remotely interested." She surveyed the scene, and, nodding, added, "This could be the birth of the first Starquest superstition."

In the following days things began to take an increasingly bizarre turn. Lea Natarajan began wearing her native costumes regularly, particularly whenever medic Remington Moss was within "striking distance", which was often, considering that she made it a point of knowing where he would be and, just coincidentally, being there, too. When she appeared at a medical staff briefing in bare feet, with toe rings and ankle bracelets accentuating her Starfleet uniform, Dr. Mitchell-Pyle asked that her junior surgeon not do so again… as attractive as the new attire might seem.

Lucinda Robertson began moving subspace communications from the ship through the most complicated routing that she could devise. When Scar brought this to her attention, the communications officer stated she was entertaining herself.

Snow Eagle kept pursuing Tal S'yn to schedule an appointment for a discussion of his hybrid physiology, making it clear that her interest was strictly professional. He would have accepted that assurance… if she hadn't been calling him in the middle of "sleep cycle," what passes for night on a starship.

Scar began shedding, and complaining about the lack of round, fuzzy things to play with. This caused a good many people to stare at him, particularly when he began using the bulkhead in the lounge of the Rec Deck for a scratching post.

Vad 'ullah and Shigenaka amused themselves by firing garbage into space through the photon torpedo tubes.

Benji "calibrated" the sensitivity adjustments at transporter station one by beaming local matter onto the ship and suspending in a containment field. The procedure, while effective, was counter to all Starfleet Corps of Engineering Recommended guidelines, and exceeded the safe operational specifications of the transporter unit. At least that was the opinion of the Engineers when this information was relayed to them.

Tara appeared on the bridge in full duty uniform and makeup. This would have been acceptable, except the makeup was Lakota war paint. Captain Dunning suggested that it was inappropriate for the bridge and that Tara might wish to remove it before taking her duty station. Grudgingly, Tam went to her quarters to comply.

Terry Edwards stirred up some excitement when he used a holographic projector to beam images of a Romulan Warbird decloaking ahead of the ship. If nothing else, it broke the monotony, and provided the ship with an unscheduled battle drill.

Chief Engineer Williams almost resisted the temptation to adjust the matter/antimatter flow to the warp drive. Almost! The variation did not alter the performance of the engines, but did create spectacular readings on the bridges heads-up display, generating a little concern of a massive implosion.

ENS Wharton, whom everyone had taken to calling Midshipman Bill, often was found sitting, drinking coffee, reviewing schematics of the ship in the lounge of the forward observation area. Harmless enough… Except that he hummed an odd piece of Andorian rock 'n roll while he did so …over … and over… and over, which quickly got on the nerves of anyone in earshot.

Scott Ertter and MacGiver joined forces and built a still to produce a crude variation of Saurian brandy. Their efforts were regarded with a visit to sickbay after a brief, but memorable party.

The new cybernetics specialist ENS Christoff, believing the odd behavior was the norm for the Starquest crew, decided to add to the confusion by building a robot whose only function was to run up and down the corridors, screeching a tinny rendition of the Starfleet Academy fight song, and waving a miniature Federation banner.

Shuttle Operations officer MIPN Blake Stone, opted to sit in the docking bay, handle repairs and fueling shuttles, and keep out of the way. This was easier said than done.

The befuddled exec, CDR Stevens kept busy… on the bridge.

Captain Dunning was relieved to realize that LT Tal S'yn seemed immune to the "Stupid flu" that had infected the ship. When Kerrye Mitchell-Pyle came to see the skipper in her ready room, the Captain felt secure in the knowledge that, at least, the ship was headed in the right direction. The doctor sat down, and sighing as if the whole past week had been spent in lifting neutron stars and this was her first break. Dunning, looking none to fresh herself, looked up from her PADD

"What's on your mind, Doctor?"

"Two things. First, this crew has got to have a break."

Dunning nodded. "They're scheduled for one; on Daran VI-D."

Mitchell-Pyle shook her head emphatically. "No, Captain, I mean a real break. Not on the Flag station. That would be too much like family day at the Academy."

Dunning cringed. She remembered what that was like, pressed uniforms, the appearance of a causal atmosphere, and the Staff and Commandant watching your every move. Very recreational… Very relaxing… Like a phaser hit on stun between the shoulder blades.

"If they don't get it soon, something is going to blow."

Dunning leaned back in her seat. "Really, Doctor, as much as I trust your judgment, couldn't you be exaggerating… just a little bit?"

Kerrye's eyes rolled up toward the ceiling. "Think so?"

The CMO leaned forward, speaking each word distinctly, and punctuating each by stabbing the mahogany desk top, accenting each syllable. "Right now, the entire flight deck operations center is holding a Paresis Squares tournament. To score, each ball has to break the atmospheric containment shield."

The doctor sat back in her seat. "Presently, the score is nil-all. You'll know the moment when that tie is broken."

Dunning stood, red faced and horrified. "All right! All right!. You'll get your shore leave. But I want you to get down there and break up that game. I'll make arrangements to divert the ship to ... somewhere."

Mitchell-Pyle got up to leave, when the captain called after her. "You said there were two things you wanted to discuss with me."

The doctor froze in mid stride, turned, and sheepishly began. "It ... it's about … LT Tal S'yn."

Dunning's eyes closed, and a silent prayer raced through her mind.

Science Division we have altered our course to investigate the effect of gravimetric fluctuations on the meteorological conditions in the Omicron Delta region of Sector 210, specifically the planet designated 0 Delta VII, or the "Shore Leave" planet. After analyzing the data transmitted to them by our long range scans, they felt that the phenomena warranted further study. Just coincidently, this will give the crew an opportunity to avail themselves of the accommodation of the planet and entertain themselves in an environment where they can "let their hair down." I have informed the crew of this change in our orders and not one has uttered a single word of protest. In fact, for the first time in three days, the efficiency of the entire ship has increased by a factor of five. I am, still, however, left with the matter of dealing with my helmsman, LT K'nra Tal S'yn, who two days ago altered the course of this vessel to that planet, informing Starfleet Command of the phenomena, transmitting bogus readings to FSD, using digital animation routed through a holographic projector. The alternatives available to me are court-martial, or commendation. A third seems more likely; a slight verbal reprimand off the record, and sending him to bed without his supper.