Studiously keeping to one side of the corridor, Ensign Teldac Issor strode along this dark side-corridor of Deep Space 9, his eyes down on the data pad in his hand. His features were set in what, for a human, would have been a very slight frown of concentration, but in fact, he felt extremely anxious. On the pad were his assignment orders to U.S.S. Stanislav Y. Petrov (a name he could not pronounce), soon to be the Station Ship at Asalooq Starfleet Facility, on his own homeworld. On his own homeworld. He could barely stomach returning to Asalooq, let alone doing so in his new capacity as a Starfleet officer ...

He was to be CONN officer aboard the Defiant class vessel. Today was his ordered date of arrival, and his assigned latest time of arrival, 1500, was still three hours away. Everything was fine with those orders, except the little appendix signed by his new (and first) ship's XO: "Quarters: Deck 2, Section 3B, 3B-09. Berthed with ENS Myra Dhawan, OPS." A woman. He would share quarters with a woman. He absolutely hated that little appendix. Everything was fine – but that. He knew the Ensign, they had been in one Academy year, after all. He had nothing against her, but he barely knew her. At the Academy, he had always been berthed with Vulcans. That was fine. Vulcans were orderly and respectful, almost Asalooq in their outlook, if much too brisk and forward for that. Myra Dhawan was Human – and Humans were incredibly nosy and overly familiar to the point of being offensive. Teldac had gotten used to it over the years, but that didn't mean he would share a tiny space with a woman from that species.

That meant one thing: on his first day on the job, he would have to go to the XO and make a complaint, to have other arrangements made. How could he do that? He didn't even know this Lt. Commander Coryn. Or Velna. He didn't even know which was the correct name! How could he address her? They had not exchanged a single word so far. Fine, he was technically introduced to her via his orders, but that didn't mean he could go to her with a complaint. His grandmother would not speak to him for days if he knew he even considered such an uncultured act. After a few days, maybe. But not right now. He would have to apologize to Ensign Dhawan for this indecent arrangement made by Starfleet. The organisation could be most tactless.

Having presented his credentials to the computer, he tentatively stepped aboard Petrov. The corridor was bleak visually, but quite loud from all the bustling crew and final work going on all over the ship. Two Engineering NCOs passed him by very closely with a heavy piece of equipment he didn't recognise, and they didn't even stop to apologise. He was supposed to do something about such things, but this was his first day, and he could not have reprimanded them anyway. Not without knowing their names, even if he was an officer now.

With the computer's help, he quickly found his way to Deck 2, Section 3B. Standing before 3B-09's door, he found himself praying to the Ancestors – don't let her be in the shower or naked. Please.

Ensign Myra Dhawan was slowly making her way through the starbase. Or rather, she was trying to do just that. She had just gotten lost for the third time. Someone had forgotten to send her the deck plan she would have needed for finding her way to where her new ship was docked. Her new ship. Despite the frustration caused by this unplanned delay – at least she had made sure to arrive no less than four hours early, so she was unlikely to get in any trouble on her first day – the words didn't fail to fill her with elation. Finally, finally she was a real Starfleet officer, off to real missions. Finally, there was no doubt any more that she was doing something worthwhile. She felt a little anxious, too. The duties on board an actual Starfleet ship, stationed far away from the Federation's core and its infrastructure, were certainly going to be something else than excelling at the Academy. But that was just what she had wanted, she reminded herself. An opportunity to prove herself, to learn and grow without either the security or the pressure of her father's connections.

Turning around a corner, Myra felt certain that she had been here before. Great. Maybe she should reconsider travelling to the edges of Federation space if she couldn't even find her way around a starbase. But this thing was just so freaking huge. She began to realise that she wouldn't be able to avoid asking someone for directions, much as she would have liked to. Everybody looked so busy, and so intimidating in their uniforms. Well, there were civilians, too, but they didn't seem very approachable, either. Besides, who knew where they came from. Maybe she would cause a diplomatic incident by asking them for directions because clueless young Ensigns asking someone questions was somehow considered mortally offensive in their culture...

"Excuse me, Madam?," Myra finally, her heart beating much too quickly, approached a female young Ensign who appeared a little less scary than the rest. The Ensign looked at her questioningly. At least she didn't shout at her or anything like that. Encouraged by that, Myra continued: "I was wondering, if you, uhm, if you happen to know how I can get to my ship. The U.S.S. Stanislav Y. Petrov. It's supposed to be docked here, and I'm... well... I need to report for duty, but the deck plan got lost and then I got lost and..." She realised she was rambling and broke off. 'Great,' she thought, 'That was a monologue worthy of Shakespeare. This lady must think I'm a complete idiot.' The other Ensign shook her head and said, friendly enough: "I'm sorry, but I've got no idea. I've also just arrived. I'm from the U.S.S. Liberty, we're just here to take on supplies." Mumbling some words of thanks, Myra fled.

On her third attempt, she actually managed to find a helpful station techie who managed to tell her how to find her ship. She got there without further incident and even found her quarters quite easily. With a sigh of relief, she dumped her duffel bag and rucksack on the top bunk and looked around. Spartan, as she had expected from a Defiant class vessel, but that didn't bother her. Actually, it added to her sense of adventure. If she had been going for creature comforts, she would simply have accepted the boring, prestigious posting suggested by her father.

She was more worried about her roommate-to-be. No matter how often she told herself that it was just for a couple of days, the idea of sharing quarters with a stranger sounded scary. It had been like that when she arrived at San Francisco, although she had soon found out that she was, indeed, very lucky, finding a great friend in her roommate, Kathleen. Which reminded her she really wanted to write to Kathleen, who was also on her way to her first posting. But that would have to wait until she had completed all her duties for the day.

With a frown, Myra studied the information files she had been sent (at least the deck plan was the only thing they seemed to have forgotten). There it was. "Quarters: Deck 2, Section 3B, 3B-09. Berthed with ENS Teldac Issor, CONN." Well, that was a bit of a relief, she thought. At least it wasn't someone vastly more experienced and higher-ranking, which would have added additional awkwardness. Actually, she knew Ensign Issor. Well, sort of. They had been in the same year at the Academy, even shared some classes, but they had never talked much. Issor seemed like he preferred to keep to himself, and in a way, that was true for Myra, too.

Still three and a half hours left until she had to report for duty, Myra saw. She quickly unpacked her bags, but she hadn't brought too much stuff and was finished quickly. Well, maybe she could get started on that letter after all. It was certainly better than agonising about her roommate, her duties or the meeting planned for the evening.

Lying down on the bed, Myra grabbed a PADD and began typing. She could have recorded the letter, but although that was the normal way to do it, she had never really liked it. It felt like everybody could listen to her private thoughts, which made sense when there were people around. It didn't really when she was alone, but she couldn't shake the feeling and had become pretty fast with the old-fashioned display keyboard over time.

Absorbed in her writing, it took Myra a moment to realise when the door opened and Ensign Issor came in. After a moment's confusion, she put down her PADD, climbed off the bed and extended her hand in greeting. "Ensign Issor. It looks like we're going to share this room – I hope you're okay with that? How did your journey go?," she said. It cost her some effort to make conversation with a near-stranger, even one her own age and rank, like that, but she really wanted to get off to a good start...

She was demanding a touch. Why would she do that? Why did she have to be like that? Humans had no manners. They were like the annoying little pets some of them kept, always barking, always demanding attention, as if respect was anathema for them. And then, she asked so many questions at once. No time to adjust to each other's presence. Well, she was not naked but clad in a proper uniform, which had the same newly replicated look and smell as his own. She also didn't smell like some non-Asalooq did. Yes, that was a point in favor of her species: they tended to wash properly. In fact, many used neutralizing perfumes, like his own people did. Teldac looked past her knees to the drab grey carpet. Then, the movement hasty and forced from the effort, his hand shot forward and briefly grasped Dhawan's. "Greetings," he managed to say.

She did not turn away as she should have. He was unsure what to do. His usual dodge from Academy days was no longer plausible - he had always claimed to have studying to do, and because that was mostly true, it had worked well. He found himself falling back to his upbringing. Ensign Dhawan was a woman who demanded his attention, and he was in no position to stop the conversation now. At the same time, her rudeness was difficult to deal with. She did not know better, but still, he didn't know how to respond. "We were berthed together, yes," he added after a short silence. The other questions were so utterly personal that it was obscene of her to ask. She might as well have told him to strip down and engage in mating right now. Stiffly, Teldac turned to his own bunk and set his bag down. He didn't quite turn his back on her, because he had learned that human mores frowned on that, but he made no attempt to uphold the conversation they should not have been having anyway. Not in this way.

Torn between shock and sheer confusion, Myra stared at her roommate's half-turned back. There she had been, making her best effort to be friendly and welcoming despite her shyness, and Issor was acting as if she had killed his pet or at the very least hidden his uniform shortly before an important meeting... Well, his behaviour had been polite – barely – but it was quite clear that he disliked Myra or harboured some kind of negative feelings towards her. And she couldn't for the life of her have said why.

She desperately tried to think of something to say, some way to break the tension that was palpable between them, but her mind was completely blank. 'He wouldn't act like that for no reason. You must have done something to upset him,' she thought. But what? It couldn't be anything she had done today since they had both just arrived. The Academy, then? But how could she have turned him against her if they had hardly ever spoken? Myra pondered the question in silence for a while, climbing back on her bed and pretending to be busy with her letter, but she couldn't think of anything. She had been a pretty well-behaved student, concentrating on her classes, her free time mainly occupied by café or cinema visits with Kathleen and, sometimes, some others, and the drama club. She had almost completely avoided the raucous parties and reckless, sometimes cruel pranks some of the other cadets had indulged in. Hardly the kind of behaviour that would make you enemies. Nor had she and Issor ever been direct rivals, academically or otherwise, their chosen careers and interests being different.

Finally, Myra gave up. She felt like a coward for it, but she felt she couldn't stand it any longer. She had to leave the scene. Hastily, she climbed out of her bed. "I'm off... going to explore the ship...," she said, quietly and a little rushed, looking down on her boots. She hesitated for a moment, fully prepared to leave but wanting to give Issor the chance to say something, anything that might explain for a behaviour. But she had no such luck. Whatever his reasons for hating her, they went deep enough to ignore her completely.