OOC:
Sorry, this ended up being ridiculously long. And @bowlofspinach , if it conflicts with anything you've already decided about Darcy Jr., just let me know and I'll rewrite.
The Potential was about an hour from the rendezvous point when Cass entered the ship's holochamber. She'd heard the gas rescue mission task force's proposal and felt it was in good shape to be presented to Captain Tulak. She'd read everything she could find on Tulak and the Antarctica and had ordered Ops to be made ready for a long strategy session.
All she really needed now was the one thing she couldn't have - Captain Darcy's blessing. But she'd thought of a workaround.
"Computer, run holo program Cassano13." The fact that she'd created only a handful of holo programs during her years on the Potential was a source of much good-natured ribbing among the bridge staff. Moira had something like 250; Zephyr was well over 400. Mezron had about 150 and he'd only been on the ship for a year. But there was a very good reason Cass hadn't created many holo programs: She was a terrible programmer.
An image of Captain Darcy appeared, frozen, in the middle of the room. Cass stared in horror. She'd programmed the file to provide a composite of the captain from all files containing his likeness in the database, but apparently, she'd used a wrong command.
Instead of a recent likeness of the captain that could draw from extensive existing material to be able to carry on a reasonable approximation of a conversation, the program had taken pieces of his various likenesses and cobbled them together into a Frankenstein-like mashup. His hair was cut and thinning the same way it was at his current age, but on part of the left side, it was rainbow striped instead of his actual graying sandy color. He was in uniform above the waist, although a version of the uniform from a few years ago, but instead of the matching pants, he was wearing racquetball shorts. Over the neon green athletic socks were a pair of shiny black shoes.
All in all, though, Cass thought the most disconcerting thing about him was the old-fashioned microphone he was holding like a performer on a stage. That, and the purple sunglasses. That is, until the program started and Captain began belting out a disturbingly convincing version of "You Dampen My Inertia."
Her mouth felt dry and cold, and she realized it had been hanging open for some time. She closed it sharply, but opened it again when the the tap-dancing started.
"Computer, freeze program!" she blurted hoarsely. Captain Darcy froze with one leg in the air.
Breathing harshly, Cass tried to think the situation through. The rainbow hair, the sunglasses, the singing and dancing - that had to be some goofball revenge fantasy Moira had cooked up. She made a mental note to find that particular program - or programs - and delete them permanently. She also mentally docked the engineer the carafe of Brrrllalian port Cass had planned on ordering for her, in gratitude for her support.
"Computer, remove all... entertainment-related features of the programmed image. I want to have a conversation with Captain Darcy." When the computer indicated it was finished, she said,
"Hello, Captain."
Captain Darcy resumed standing on two trouser-clad legs. His hair was normal and free of sunglasses. He gave her a tiny, distant smile and a nod.
"Cassie."
She frowned. He'd never called her Cassie. Nobody had ever called her Cassie.
"I signed your entry form to the Academy. But I want you to know that I haven't changed my mind about your readiness. I don't think you are Spacefleet material - not yet, at least. You're undisciplined, unfocused; I've never known you to fully commit to anything. And unlike your sister, you lack respect for rules. Given the opportunity, you'll take the shortcut over the proper way of doing something every time. And that's just not how Spacefleet officers function. Not successful ones. So I've signed the form, and I give you my blessing to follow me and your sister into the fleet, but that's as much as I'll do. From here on, you succeed or fail on your own merits. I won't pull any strings to get you through the Academy or into desirable placements. You're going to have to prove yourself - to me, to the fleet, and to yourself."
The image stopped talking, and Cass swallowed. She thought she finally had an inkling as to why Cassandra Darcy hated her.
Taking a deep breath, Cass went ahead and told him everything: her decisions, the lost away team, the pirate operation, the impending collaboration with Tulak's crew, her hopes and fears for the outcome. Just saying it to his face was cathartic. She actually did feel a lot better. When she stopped talking, Captain Darcy beamed at her. He'd never beamed at her. She'd never seen him beam, period.
"Oh, you have nothing to worry about. I have the utmost faith in your abilities."
"Oh," she said, lamely.
"Really?"
"Of course!" Darcy waved his arms expansively. He was never expansive in real life.
"Why, you're brilliant, Zephyr. I'm surprised a man of your singular accomplishments has even a micron of self-doubt. You're a genius among geniuses, a--"
"Computer," Cass barked,
"end and delete program."
