Her deadline was in less than a week. She was supposed to have had at least another month, but the Journal of Anomalies and Curiosities of Medicine had contacted her several days before to tell her of the change in plans. Her paper on the accelerated aging effects of certain types of radiation would have to be finished three weeks ahead of its original deadline.
On the plus side, she'd completed the relevant research weeks ago, otherwise her situation would have been hopeless, but she would have to virtually give up sleep for the next five days while she compiled her findings. Roger had taught her a few valuable lessons in her time with him and committing to a deadline was paramount.
Quickly, before Dr. McCoy could arrive and usurp her time, she palmed a mild stimulant and washed down the tablet with a swig of strong black coffee. There were no excuses on a starship. She would have to be alert. The combines effect of the drugs began to kick in within about fifteen minutes and the fog slowly cleared from her head just in time for McCoy to barge in and begging barking orders.
Practically the first thing Christine had realized about was that no matter the occasion, he treated everything like a life or death situation. It was the very attitude that had driven away head nurse after head nurse and ultimately had gotten her the much-coveted position on the Enterprise.
Today their prime objective was getting the new medical supplies down from the shipments cargo hold and getting them coded, catalogued and put away in their proper order before the Enterprise exited federation jurisdiction.
"Get the crates in the back first, they're the oldest", He told her, tossing down the pad with the inventory list on hi desk in front of her. "Make sure to check the dates though. You can't be too careful".
"Yes sir". She said injecting a measure of fake enthusiasm into her voice, which caused McCoy to snort in response.
"Better you than me", He informed her cynically. "Someday you'll be the one delegating."
Christine rolled her eyes but took the padd obediently and began doing a run through of the list of supplies, mentally calculating how many hours of work lay ahead.
It was just her luck that this had to fall on the one week she needed every second of. Oh well, if there was one thing Frank Chapel had taught his only child, it was to roll with the circumstances.
"Consider it done." She told her superior and he responded with a tight smile. "It's a dirty job but somebody has to do it. And it sure as hell won't be me". He informed her, turning back to his own assignment.
Resigning herself to her fate, she trudged on down to shipments and began the long grueling process of hauling fifty-pound crates back to sickbay.
The job would take a day or two at least. Christine, who had carried an unconscious Mr. Scott on her shoulders to sickbay more than once, was not exempt from the heavy lifting. On her second trip, she unexpectedly encountered Mr. Spock who had only more unfortunate news to heap on her.
"I'll need you to have these samples categorized by 5930 federation standard. "We've been called out to the border of the neutral zone and Starfleet command wants this solar year's official report before then". He said, handing her another padd with yet another seemingly endless list.
Christine, by nature, had serious reservations about disappointing any superior officer, let alone Mr. Spock.
"Yes sir". She said resignedly, taking the pad and stuffing it between two plastic crates without bothering to look.
She was already pretty well aware of the sheer amount of work ahead of her. There was no use stressing about it until then.
"Anything else?" She asked obediently, hoping that he would just be gone as soon as possible.
He seemed taken aback by her shortness but didn't comment.
"Have it done by 5930.5 at the latest," He told her with his characteristic bluntness, and with that, the conversation was closed.
"Yes sir, she replied mechanically, and resigned herself to her fate
Honestly sometimes she hated him as much as she loved him (and even that was questionable at times).
She trudged along back to sickbay under the weight of the supply boxes she carried, chewing over how she would manage all her obligations. All roads led back to the same destination: What choice did she have?"
She'd have to make it work either way. Even if it meant her death.
The stimulant usually weren't kept under close watch. Not until quarterly evaluations anyways. She had unlimited access.
She paused for a moment in the turbolift and decided she would do what she had to. She'd come too far too let her career lag now. She's derailed too much already on Roger's account. It was her turn to be all she could be.
No matter what.