1.

Now...

It was possibly the most beautiful thing Simony Knox had ever seen. Azure wisps of energy swirled before her. Whorls of color spanning the entire spectrum beckoned to her. The luminescent forces of the vortex raced toward its core with such rapidity it seemed as if it were pulling her toward it. Currents of air whipped dark, curly locks of hair across her face. She stared with unbridled awe, her verdant eyes whirlpools of energy. Research and experimentation had readied her for the technical aspects of the singularity she had created, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer brilliance of it all.

After spending endless days computing equations and poring over copious amounts of data, it was an exhilarating sensation to finally see the fruits of her labor. The various difficulties inherent in this kind of experimentation plagued her work, and many times, it felt as if she were chasing some mythical beast. Now, however, the results were staring her squarely in the face. The Einstein Rosen-Podolsky Bridge was a reality.

Slowly, she began to circle the vortex, drinking in every detail as she moved. The first thing she noticed was how remarkably two-dimensional it was. This wasn't completely unanticipated, but still, it struck her that something so powerful was, effectively, thin as a sheet of paper. As she progressed to what could be termed the rear of the thing, something else caught her attention. Rather than simply being a mirror image of the stunning display she had experienced a moment ago (which was what she had expected), the back of the vortex was completely transparent, save for a visual distortion that she likened to rippling water.

The glow of the vortex returned to view as she completed her inspection. Although she would never admit it, an almost God-like feeling coursed through her veins. A breakthrough of this magnitude was a feat unparalleled by anything she had ever experienced or imagined. A smile played across her lips, and she closed her eyes as she let the intense heat radiating from the vortex wash over her. The sensation was…

Heat…

Her eyes snapped back open.

There shouldn't be any heat.

The triumphant sense of accomplishment Simony felt moments before began waned.

Shaking off her reverie, she quickly turned to one of the various monitors occupying her lab and began scouring the data recorded from the anomaly. But even as she continued to search for a cause, she knew it would take time to analyze the data. There was no way she would find a solution then and there. Crestfallen, she took one last look at the magnificent blue whirlpool. A sigh escaped her lips as she stabbed a button on her keyboard and watched as the vortex dissipated before her eyes.

She snatched up a nearby notebook and hurled it across the room in frustration. She had meticulously calculated every variable, accounted for every imaginable contingency, but still, something was wrong. She had no clue as to what that might be. According to her projections, everything should have been perfect.

Simony plopped down on a wooden stool in front of the computer and took a tired breath. She knew she was being too hard on herself. Although it wasn't a complete success, she had just accomplished something that no one else on the planet had come close to achieving. Besides, she was only human. Even she couldn't predict every possible outcome. She hadn't accounted for something, and now her job was to find out what that was. But she devoted so much of her life to this project over the past few years, she couldn't help but feel disheartened.

During the time following her parents' deaths, the somewhat diminutive laboratory became more of a home to her than the school dormitories. In a turn of events that she could only term as one big cosmic joke on her, the formidable Sgt. Amelia Curtis had offered to allow her to reside at St. John's Academy. Simony had never thought of her as a particularly compassionate woman, and questioned the sincerity behind the offer, but in the end, it didn't matter much; Simony herself had little say in the matter. Since she had no family to speak of, it was assumed that this arrangement would be preferable to foster care. However, the problem with making assumptions is that they rarely turn out to be accurate.

Not long after she had taken up permanent residence at the school, Sgt. Curtis had summoned her to her office. In retrospect, it had to be the single most peculiar encounter she had had with the sergeant. Simony knew something was off from the beginning; she noticed Sgt. Curtis had the distinct air of someone who was trying to appear personable - and failing miserably. She proceeded to express an extreme interest in Simony's remarkable abilities and listened intently to every word she had to say on the subject. Then, Sgt. Curtis made her an offer she couldn't refuse.

"I am willing to convert a small part of the basement storage area into a working laboratory in order to further your scientific endeavors," she had said. At that, Simony's heart leapt with enthusiasm, until she amended, "However, I shall need to remain apprised of any and all projects you intend to explore. You have twenty-four hours to consider it and submit to me a list of materials you may need."

It was that moment, Simony belatedly realized, that should have raised a significant red flag.

Still, it had sounded reasonable at the time.

The laboratory, if it could be called that, had been situated just inside the entryway of the basement under the main office building. Two large metal shelves had been positioned to act as a barrier between her lab and the rest of the storage area, which seemed to stretch on forever. Most of her equipment from home had been delivered, as well as a computer system that was newer and faster than the one she was used to. As she examined the domain that would now be, for all intents and purposes, hers, she began to feel a bit of the giddy excitement she used to feel when taking on a new project.

That is, until Sgt. Curtis had entered the room.

The woman was all business; she had shed the somewhat affable demeanor she had previously attempted. Her face was inscrutable as always, and her severe bun almost made it look like she had been the victim of a botched facelift. Under her arm was a familiar binder.

"I believe I have just the project for you to undertake," she had said in the manner of someone who was not making a suggestion, but giving an order.

Simony quietly examined the binder and was dumbfounded. She couldn't believe she had fallen for this. Sgt. Curtis must have known about her research-

"I will be keeping an eye out to ensure you make proper use of our little investment," she said as she spun on her heel and left the room.

Then Simony had spotted the security cameras.

She had begun to think perhaps she had misjudged the Sergeant.

She had been wrong.

After that, she was exempted from several mandatory activities, including military drills - so long as she spent her extra time in the basement. If she didn't show up when expected, someone would be sent after her. Even though she would never trust Curtis, she found that she truly enjoyed seeking refuge in her lab. She was a scientist at heart, and even with her suspicions about the sergeant, her drive for research and experimentation wasn't curbed for long. Besides, she hadn't expected to make any sort of significant headway on the project Curtis had forced upon her - her work on it had come to an impasse the year before her parents died.

But now, three years later, she had made a breakthrough.

Luckily, she didn't have to be forthcoming.

She never knew exactly what Curtis had hoped to gain from her research, but she wasn't eager to find out. This prompted her discovery of a way to reconfigure her equipment to emit an electromagnetic pulse. In theory, it would be able to disrupt the security cameras for as long as she needed to work covertly. She wasn't sure at first if it had worked until the security guard - a squat, balding man by the name of Heidelman - had come down to investigate. She had explained to him that the scrambled video was a normal side effect of her work and couldn't be avoided. Heidelman, for his part, had simply grunted in response and returned to his duties.

Simony punched another button on the keyboard to discontinue the pulse. If she let it run too long, she might have to field questions she wasn't inclined to answer. She needed to review the data she collected anyway, and there was no reason to hide that from the ever-present cameras.

Eventually she knew she would perfect the wormhole; she felt it in her bones. There would be no more research to do, and she wouldn't be able to hide it forever. What then? Would she pretend to work in her lab to hide that her project was complete? Would she go public in hopes that someone would rescue her from purgatory? Those thoughts scared her more than anything else. Because these were questions that Simony Knox just couldn't answer.

Lucas Sergeant strode down the corridor in the main office building of St. John's Academy. He carried himself like a colonel or a sergeant, but closer observation revealed him to be a mere cadet who was a bit too full of himself. He came from a long line of military men - his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had all fought for their country - and he was proud of his heritage. It had become something of a tradition in his family, and he embraced it. He had spent much of his life preparing to enter the army when he was of age.

The boy filled out his uniform well; he had taken great pains to cultivate his physique (although if asked, he would deny being so conceited) and it paid off handsomely. He kept his sandy-colored hair cut on the short side, but he wasn't a fan of the characteristic military buzz. He joked to his friends that it was because the girls needed something to run their fingers through. Many a pretty face had indeed fallen prey to those big hazel eyes and that debonair grin, but being able to turn heads as he simply strolled down the sidewalk was a reward unto itself.

The cadet tossed a glance at the grease-soaked paper bag cradled in his hand as he rounded the corner into another corridor. A self-satisfied smirk played across his face. He had been doing this so long, it almost seemed like a ritual. Heidelman, the evening security guard, wasn't allowed to leave campus while he was on duty, even to grab a bite to eat. So, purely out of the kindness of his heart, Lucas began slipping out to grab dinner for the guard, and in return, Heidelman would conveniently not notice when the boy happened to wander off-campus on the weekends.

He never strayed too far. Sometimes he just wanted to grab a bite to eat; the food in the mess hall was typically less than stellar. He would never do anything questionable - being escorted back to campus by the police was a sure way to lose what little freedom he had. He spent the majority of his time walking around the local mall. Sometimes he bought something small, like a watch or wallet, but mostly he just enjoyed the attention his cadet uniform garnered from the opposite sex.

He forged similar arrangements with other staff members, but the deal with Heidelman was by far the one he valued most - not only because it allowed him to come and go as he pleased, but because he thoroughly enjoyed his exchanges with the cantankerous security guard. He suspected Heidelman enjoyed it just as much, though he would never admit it.

Finally, he reached the room where he knew Heidelman would be and rapped on the door. There was a loud rustling from the other side as if he had just startled someone awake. After a moment, a gruff, irritable voice called, "Who's there?"

"Yeah, I've got three male strippers for a Mackenzie Heidelman?" Lucas called through the door.

Abruptly, the door flew open and a stubby older man - with a pate Jean-Luc Picard would be proud of - appeared with annoyance all over his face. Lucas mused that his expression tended to remain the same regardless of his mood.

"Hey, I'm not here to judge," he deadpanned.

The man narrowed his eyes. "Get in here smartass," he growled as he threw the door all the way open and headed back to his chair.

Lucas followed and closed the door behind him. He had visited this room any number of times - it was where Heidelman had a tendency to go when he didn't want to be found. The room itself was small and rather Spartan; the walls were an antiseptic white that made it feel like a hospital, and they were bare. The only furniture present was Heidelman's wooden swivel chair and the half-moon shaped desk that held the security monitors.

Security cameras across campus all fed their video into this room. The monitors were stacked three high and four wide inside a large panel that mimicked the shape of the desk. The whole rig looked to be from the stone age; the plastic panel casing had aged from off-white to dull yellow over the years, and the monitors had images burned into their screens. The cameras didn't require constant monitoring (a fact that Lucas was thankful for), but everything was recorded on antiquated VHS machines just in case something did happen. The whole thing was in dire need of an upgrade, but, so long as everything was still operational, the school certainly wasn't going to dole out the cash for a more modern computerized system.

Lucas sauntered over and plunked the grease-laden bag on the desk in front of Heidelman. "You know Heidi," he started, "if I keep bringing you these coronary burgers, I'm gonna be an accessory to suicide."

Heidelman's rotund face flushed at the nickname. "I thought I told you not to call me that," he grumbled.

"Oh, come on. Where's your sense of humor?" Lucas smirked.

"I lost it about the same time I met you." He looked up at the boy as he retrieved his sandwich from the soggy bag.

Lucas clutched his chest in feigned distress. "Heidi! You wound me!"

The man grunted as he rose from his chair, burger in hand. "How much do I owe ya?" he asked, ignoring the cadet's jibe.

"It's on the house," Lucas replied nonchalantly. "Consider it payment for letting me out last weekend."

He grunted again as he opened the door and left down the corridor, presumably heading for the staff lounge. "You know," he called over his shoulder, "you're gonna end up getting me fired."

"I'd be doing you a favor and you know it!" Lucas called after him. Then something on one of the security monitors caught his eye. "Hey Heidi!" he yelled before the man could round the corner. "Mind if I keep an eye on the cameras for a bit?"

Rather than stopping and turning around to answer, Heidelman simply grunted and waved his hand behind his head.

"I'll take that as a 'no,'" Lucas said to himself as he closed the door and headed to the desk.

The chair protested loudly as he seated himself. He could only contribute the noise to years of abuse by Heidelman's rear end. While it wasn't imperative that the cameras be monitored closely, Heidelman was rarely seen outside this room. Most times, Lucas found him napping in the chair or kicking back with a book or crossword puzzle. Obviously the school wasn't concerned about keeping good security. And that suited him just fine.

Lucas pulled himself to the desk and leaned forward. He had never paid much attention to the goings on displayed by the monitors, but what he saw this time surprised him. It was the basement. Specifically, that there was someone in the basement. That in and of itself was fairly innocuous, although he couldn't for the life of him figure out why the school needed video of a storage room. But in this case, that someone happened to be a female. A female cadet.

A work area had been carved out among the shelves and boxes. Computers lined the surfaces, and equipment that Lucas couldn't even begin to recognize bordered the walls and shelves. It looked to him like some sort of makeshift laboratory. And in the middle of it all was the girl, looking for all the world as if she belonged there.

He didn't have any idea what she was doing, but he thought she certainly looked good doing it. He was immediately struck by how different she was from the rest of the female cadets on campus. Most of them were athletic, but they tended to resemble stick figures more than women, and their uniforms provided no assistance in that area. This girl was by no means fat, but she had all the right curves in all the right places. As a result, her uniform was a bit more form-fitting, and Lucas couldn't help but take notice.

Her hair was also atypical of the girls on campus. Long, dark curls cascaded down her back almost like a waterfall. During school hours and drills, female cadets were required to wear their hair up so as to keep it out of the way.

Lucas sat there, off in his own world, silently admiring the girl on the screen. He didn't realize it, but he had leaned in so far that his face was mere inches from the screen. He was so preoccupied, in fact, that he didn't even hear the door slide open.

The room began to fill with a nauseating strong floral fragrance. He wouldn't have noticed that either if the stench hadn't choked his breath. Instinctively, he looked to the door…

…and laid his eyes on the only woman to ever strike fear into his heart. Aside from his mother, of course.

Sgt. Amelia Curtis stood there in all her glory, arms crossed and lips characteristically pursed. Immediately, Lucas jumped from his chair. Unfortunately, he had forgotten his ankle was wound around one of the legs of the chair, and as a result, it went crashing to the floor, almost taking him along with it. Wisely, he ignored it, and scrambled to attention.

Lucas didn't know how long he stood in silence while Sgt. Curtis scrutinized him. Her eyes bored through his skull, dissecting him like an insect. He often joked that the woman could turn people to stone with a mere look. Now, he was beginning to wonder if there wasn't some truth to that.

"May I ask, Cadet, what you are doing in a clearly restricted section of the building?" Her words were like ice.

"Yes, Ma'am." Even his saliva had deserted him. "I was waiting for Lieutenant Heidelman to return, Ma'am. I…had a security concern that I needed to bring to his attention."

"Indeed," she said, unconvinced. "And what, pray tell, was this alleged concern?"

"Umm…well, I noticed that the security camera outside the mess hall looked like a wire was disconnected from it. I thought it would be a good idea to inform security, Ma'am." Inwardly, Lucas was impressed with himself. He thought the story was somewhat convincing, and that particular camera did in fact have a wire that was frayed to the point that the casual observer might mistakenly assume it was disconnected. He hoped she bought it.

"I see," was her only response. Once again, she stood looking at him in silence for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only about a minute. Then, he realized her gaze was directed not at him, but at the monitor he had been absorbed in just a few moments ago. If realization dawned across her face, he couldn't tell.

"My office, Cadet." He jumped at her abrupt voice. "Now."

The clacking of Sgt. Curtis's heels echoed throughout the corridor as Lucas followed behind. Mentally, he chided himself. How could he have been so taken by that cadet that he hadn't heard her coming? Or even open the door? He didn't know what the punishment was for being in a restricted area, but he didn't imagine it was too lenient. For all he knew, he could be about to get expelled. That certainly wouldn't sit well with his father.

The Sergeant's office was on the top floor of the building. They came to a stop outside a door that had her name and title printed on the window in unassuming black letters, and she retrieved the key to unlock it. First, they arrived in a room with a modest amount of seating and a reception desk. Lucas had never been here before, but he assumed it was meant to be a waiting room. Then, she led him through another door into her main office.

When the lights flickered on, Lucas was surprised by just how unfeminine the décor was. It almost felt like some sort of hunting lodge. The room was populated by a heavy wooden desk and bookshelves, as well as a locked gun case that boasted several antique-looking rifles. The entire place was devoid of photos, although there were several paintings depicting historic military battles.

As the Sergeant took her place behind her desk, Lucas came to a stop directly in front and once again stood at attention.

"I have a problem, Cadet," she said without preamble.

"I understand, Ma'am," Lucas stammered, "and I want to assure you it will never happen ag-"

She put her hand up and he immediately fell silent. "Cadet, I am willing to forget I ever saw you in the Monitoring Room."

He looked at her incredulously. "Thank-"

"So long as you are able to do something for me in exchange."

"-you." Lucas was no less than stunned. She was certainly speaking his language, but he had no clue why this woman would need him to do anything. Didn't she run the place? "Of…of course, Ma'am."

"You are familiar with Cadet Simony Knox?" she said as more of a statement than a question.

He shot her a puzzled look. "No, Ma'am."

"Apologies." She looked up at him with the expression of a tiger toying with it's prey. "I assumed from the way you were…ogling…her downstairs…"

"I…I didn't know her name, Ma'am," he said, the guilt apparent in his voice.

"I see." She looked at him through narrow slits. "Regardless," her voice took on the tone of someone giving orders, rather than making a request. "Cadet Knox is working on a project for me, the details of which are…sensitive. She is required to report to me on her progress in regular intervals. Of late, however, it is becoming apparent that she may be withholding vital information.

"I cannot confront her myself, as she is not likely to be forthcoming. However," she cleared her throat, "if there were someone close to her who could determine whether or not she is being dishonest, I may not have to consider more…extreme…measures."

"But Ma'am," Lucas's throat was thoroughly dry, "I don't know her personally. I don't see how I could be any help."

"Sometimes," she cracked a small grin that looked wholly out of place on her face, "the attentions of a young man, such as yourself, can be an…incentive…to speak about things you wouldn't ordinarily divulge."

"I see," this time it was his voice echoing the sentiment. But he didn't see - at least, not right then. It took him a moment to realize the full intent of her words. His eyes grew wider. "Ma'am, am I to understand that you're authorizing fraternization?"

"The Academy's stance on fraternization remains unchanged, Cadet Sergeant," she snapped. Her next words were more measured. "However…I can understand how your efforts may be…misconstrued. I will inform my staff to act accordingly."

Lucas was almost tempted to turn her down. He was making a deal with the devil. But he couldn't accept expulsion - he wouldn't - and he knew in his bones that if he declined her offer that was what he could expect. "Yes, Ma'am. I understand."

"Good." He wished she would wipe that vile grin off her face. "Now, let me make myself clear. Under no circumstances are you to inquire as to the nature of Cadet Knox's extracurricular work. If she volunteers that information, you are to inform me immediately. Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Dismissed."

Lucas turned on his heel and left the woman in her office. Immense relief washed over him as he hurried back down to the main floor. He was glad to be out of that office; he was happy to still be a student at the school. But in the back of his mind, he still had that nagging dread that he had just bitten off more than he could chew.

At last, he came to the exit. He flew past the reception desk and was nearly out the door when he had a thought. His eyes moved back to the receptionist. He knew her well. Her Slavic features appealed to him, and he never wasted a chance to flirt with her, even though she was about ten years his senior. What was important at the moment, however, was that she was the worst gossip he had ever known. Nothing happened on this campus without Lieutenant Yeager's knowledge. And he was hoping that would work to his advantage.

"Amanda!" he said in mock-surprise as he sauntered over to the desk. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes."

She looked up and rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. I don't have the time, Sarge."

"Oh, come on." He flashed her his best prize-winning smile. "Not even for me?"

"Especially not for you." She turned her attentions back to her paperwork.

"I promise it won't take too long."

She sighed as she ran her fingers through her blond ponytail. "Fine, fine. If it'll get you out of my hair."

"Aw, now you're starting to sound like you don't enjoy my company," he jibed.

"Sergeant!" she started harshly until she looked up at his beaming face, then softened her voice. "Sarge, I'm just a little behind on my paperwork. What can I do for you?"

"I need some information. So, naturally, I thought of you."

"Naturally," she harrumphed. "And what exactly do you need to know?"

"Oh, nothing really," he said coyly. "It has to do with the basement…"

"I can't tell you anything about the basement."

"Oh, come on!" he said, dropping all pretenses. "What is the big deal about-"

"Sarge," she started slowly, "I can't tell you anything about the basement because I don't know anything about the basement."

He shot her a quizzical look. "You. You don't know?"

"Well, contrary to popular belief," she said, cracking a smile for the first time during the conversation, "I'm not omniscient."

"In that case," he said and flashed her that grin of his once again, "tell me everything you know about Cadet Simony Knox."