58807.14-1800 - "Valued Voices"

***

The night was young, yet to Léa it had felt anything but.

About an hour earlier, she had surrendered her usual evening green tea in exchange for something with a bit more kick—in this case, coffee. Or rather, three of them. As she sipped, her weary eyes scanning the lines of text across the computer terminal on her desk, she felt as though she were fighting a losing war of attrition. Insomnia had been a common bedfellow these last few years, and she knew well that her insistence on familiarizing herself with the Vanguard, its systems, and, more importantly, its crew before giving in to the need for rest would only hasten its return.

Yet she was committed. Her sudden reassignment from the Ticonderoga had left her at a decided disadvantage, which in turn meant the crew of the Vanguard was just as disadvantaged.

Simply put, she felt she owed them her best, even if it meant a day or two without sleep.

With a resigned sigh, Léa blinked heavy lids and leaned back in her chair. She took one more sip, then set the small gold-rimmed cup back on its matching saucer. A pair of fingers came up to pinch the bridge of her nose. For a moment she considered upping the ante further to an espresso, but thought better of it. Instead she stood and moved to the viewport. The stars streaming by were a constant reminder that the ship was at warp, that the last known location of the Kepler awaited them—and perhaps also an idea as to what had happened to it.

“The time is eighteen hundred hours,” the computer’s cold voice announced.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Léa expected a chime at the door at any moment. The scheduled meeting with her new executive officer was waiting. So far she had been impressed by Commander Griffith, but she knew it would take more time to truly get a gauge of him.

And vice versa, she realized, recalling her own experiences as an executive officer.

At 18h00, Greggory walked across the bridge, PADD in hand, and pressed the announcer on the door. After getting the acknowledgment, he walked through the doorway and waited for it to hiss shut behind him before he walked over to stand on the other side of the desk.  "Good evening, Captain. I see you're settling in well."

"I had some scheduling changes I wanted to run by you, for after this business with the Kepler is resolved. I also wanted to give you the chance to ask any questions you didn't want to pose in front of everyone on the bridge."

Léa turned from the viewport as the door hissed shut behind him. “Good evening, Commander. Please—sit.” She gestured to one of the chairs opposite her desk. “Can I offer you something from the replicator? Tea, coffee—whatever you prefer.” She returned to her own seat, accepted the PADD he had brought, and let her eyes travel the first lines while she took an idle sip of coffee. The warmth did little for the fatigue, but it gave her hands something honest to do.

“After the Kepler, then,” she said, glancing up. “Tell me what you have in mind for the schedule. I would rather hear it in your words.” Even as she opened that door, a quieter set of questions gathered behind it: how the crew had taken her arrival, what he had not said on the bridge, whether these changes were practical or political. She kept them to herself for now, and waited.

Greggory took the offered chair. "Nothing at the moment, Captain," he said as he handed over the PADD. Letting her read the plan, he took a deep breath to steady himself. "There aren't any assignments I think need changing at this time, other than Lt Cmdr Lektar's lead of Gamma shift.  I've noticed something on previous assignments, both in drills and practical events." He paused to let the premise sink in.

"When incidents occur in the last couple hours of a shift, the on-duty officers are tired, just from being alert for so many hours. When incidents occur in the first hours of a shift and All-Hands is called, the crew that just finished their shift are more-so distracted, often pulled from meals or just getting ready to sleep. This increases response times and leads to more mistakes, remaining a consistent drag even as crew's gain experience."

He paused again, giving Lea the opportunity to request clarification before he moved on to his proposed solution. 

Reclaiming the small cup from the saucer on her desk, Léa took a sip of coffee as she continued to read, and to listen. The switch of Commander Lektar from alpha to gamma made sense, given that she had been named second officer.

When he paused, she sensed a reservation and looked up from the PADD.

She let it settle in her lap, crossed one leg over the other, and tilted her head just a little, one eyebrow higher than its companion. She listened closely, wondering what her first officer had in mind. “There is some fall-off in diligence as a shift winds down, yes. I have seen the same.” She understood the cause well enough. To put it simply—and perhaps a little unfairly, speaking as a human—it was entirely human to lose focus on mundane tasks as the hours wore on.

“I take it you have a proposed solution to go with this analysis?” she asked, a serene, appreciative smile crossing her lips. “Let me hear it,” she said, taking another sip of coffee and feeling a little more awake.

He sat up a bit taller as Lea acknowledged his observations, justifying his proposal. 

"I want to change the schedule from three 8-hour shifts to six 4-hour shifts. Without changing who is working each shift, we can simply have each shift go through two rotations in a 24 hour period. Basically, an Alpha, Beta, and Gamma-1 followed by an Alpha, Beta, and Gamma-2. Alpha 1 would be at 08h00 as normal, and Alpha 2 would start at 20h00.

"It would still provide two 8-hour periods for off-duty crew to eat, rest, and get in some recreation," he confirmed, "it just wouldn't be a continuous 16-hours. The simulations I ran, including starfleet medical reports on morale and sleep requirements, show a not-insignificant increase in response times with a negligible chance of crew strain."

He tried to reassure the captain, "If either of us suspect that, after an adjustment period, the crew is suffering from the change, we can go back to the previous arrangement."

“That’s…” Léa hesitated a moment, then smiled and nodded. “…quite a proposal.”

She leaned back again, tilting her head just a little as Griffith went on with further explanation, clarification, and justification for the change. It did seem an ingenious, if simple, solution to the problems he had outlined. “I have not served on a ship that ran a shift system quite like that one, but I can see the benefits. Of course, there may be drawbacks. Breaking up the shifts also breaks up off-duty time. It could disrupt sleep to some degree.”

“The crew would have two eight-hour periods off, with a four-hour shift in between to contend with.” It could be a minor issue, or a major one, depending on how quickly some of them could find rest after one shift and before the next.

"Did your testing account for this possibility?" she asked.

Greggory nodded along with Lea's points. "Neither have I, which is why I'm proposing a trial run before we commit long term. Especially before our mission drags us too far from support."

He acknowledged considering the sleep issue. "My models did account for that.  Some of them suggested medically supervised chemical assistance until the new routine is settled; some models said the crew would split a full sleep cycle between the two recovery periods, which decreased the gain of the schedule change to a minor degree, assuming that everyone gets their uninterrupted species-recommended sleep equivalent right now.

"How many of us really get a continuous 8-hours on a starship," he added with a slight smirk. "Just look at how much coffee we consume.

"Speaking of, some models suggested that the crew would adjust their dining habits around two separate rest periods, while others suggested wide-spread adoption of meals designed to be eaten quickly or on the go.

"Ultimately, it seems to create a short-term disruption for long-term gain, which is why I suggested waiting until the Kepler situation is dealt with, while we are in transit to the next stage of our mission." He sat patiently in his chair, although his insides were twisting into knots, a career of high-pressure situations where unintentional movements could be disastrous paying off.

Léa’s head shifted ever so slightly from side to side, wary at the mention of chemical stimulants to regulate sleep. She would much prefer to avoid them, given the effect on natural circadian rhythms.

They were not universal, as Griffith had succinctly clarified.

With a smile, and as if to underline the point, she motioned to the cup of coffee on her desk—her third of the evening. A chemical stimulant, yes, but there was a hard line between that and something taken under a doctor’s supervision. Her reservations aside, the shift-change idea seemed at least worth a trial. If the crew could adjust and make it work, the benefits would be noticeable. If they could not, they could fall back to a more traditional system. After a moment of consideration, she nodded and clasped one hand over the other in her lap.

“Very well, Commander. Please begin drawing up plans to implement the new schedule. We’ll give it a go after the Kepler mission, and if it proves its merit, continue with it for the foreseeable future.”

“What else would you like to discuss?” she asked.

Greggory relaxed slightly as the captain approved his proposal. He accepted his PADD back from Lea before standing up.  "I think that was all I wanted to take time for, Captain.  I should probably get back to the bridge, unless you had anything you wanted to discuss?" 

“Not at the moment. No.” Léa nodded to Griffith appreciatively and settled back a little in the chair behind her desk. “You may return to the bridge. Thank you.” She was about to return to a report from the astrometrics officer when something sprang to mind, and she looked up. “Actually, Commander. This Saturday evening, would you care to have dinner with Commander Lektar and me?” She raised an eyebrow. “It was something of a tradition under my previous commanding officer, Captain Halladay, and I would like to see if I can continue it now that I am in the chair.”

Greggory turned from his exit at the captain's invitation. "That sounds nice, Captain.  I'll see you there."

Offering a brief smile, he turned and stepped onto the bridge, resuming his duties.