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ways.
    "MacEwan's have salt water in their veins."
    Rieko was well aware that the MacEwan's referred to only men. Somehow she could see the MacEwan's still somewhere in the early Twentieth Century when it came to women and their rights and abilities as people, beliefs Stuart didn't share.
    "MacEwan's don't give up a fight."
    "MacEwan's don't shirk responsibility."
    "MacEwan's are strong."
    "MacEwan's don't cry."
    This family had given him his sense of duty and loyalty, his prim and proper manners. Was the perfection he insisted on his? What about his need to succeed? His self-reliance and determination were taught to him at an early age. Those words were his father's, not that Stuart ever mentioned the man.
    * * * *
    "It's amazing.” Rieko studied the completed model of the HMS Resolution on the small table in Stuart's quarters.
    Stuart sat on the bed watching her. Every little piece was perfectly in place and properly colored. The small fabric sails were carefully bent to give the impression of ocean winds filling them. Thin string held the sails delicately in place.
    "Amazing,” Rieko repeated. His attention to detail and patience showed in the masterpiece.
    He still sat there, watching her with a proud look on his face. “Was thinking of giving it to the Captain,” he spoke.
    Rieko turned to him with surprise. He must have spent hours on this, hours upon hours. “You're just going to give it away?” How could he do that ?
    Stuart had his lips slightly pinched in thought. “Do you think he'd like it?” The anxiety in his voice made him sound younger.
    "How long did it take you to make this?” she asked. Had he been working on this since leaving Earth? That had been months ago.
    "It's totally perfect, every little detail.” He ignored her question, still his voice held confidence and pride.
    "How can you just give it away?” Rieko shook her head.
    "Would he really like it?” Stuart asked the question he wanted her to answer, doubt in his usually sure voice.
    Rieko thought about Shawn's reaction. This wooden ship with all the perfect details, all the hours Shawn would know it had taken. It was just the sort of thing Shawn would like, and knowing the work it took would make it mean that much more to him. “Stuart, of course, he would love it."
    "You sure?"
    "Yes.” Shawn would be so honored by it and it would mean more knowing it bore the name of this ship he loved. “He'd cherish it.” She knew it was the truth. She could see Shawn picking the proper place to proudly display it, somewhere he could look on it often.
    "How do you suppose I do it?” he asked. “Give it to him?"
    "Why don't you just walk up to his ready room with it tomorrow?"
    Stuart shook his head, terror in his eyes. “I can't do that.” He was too private a man to go tramping around the ship with his creation. She wondered if he knew Shawn wasn't going to hide it in a closet.
    "Walk it to his quarters.” She gave him another solution. That was near enough he could easily hide it, and then an explanation would be a private thing between him and the captain.
    Stuart nodded his head. He looked proudly at the ship again. “Every little detail is perfect."
    She knew she shouldn't ask about Stuart and his perfectionism. It would hit too close to the one subject he never talked about: his father. What was the worst that could happen? He would clam up and stop talking for the night?
    "Why are you such a perfectionist?” she asked.
    Stuart just looked blankly at her for a moment. “I'm not,” he finally answered. “Nothing about me is ever perfect.” Failure showed in his voice and eyes.
    "Why do you strive for perfection?” she modified the question and tried again.
    Stuart stared at her and for a moment she thought he would avoid the question and change the subject. “He demanded it of me,” he spoke softly. His face masked anything beneath the surface. He, Rieko knew, meant his father. “Nothing about me is perfect. Nothing ever was,