A/N: A couple of author's notes to address questions in the reviews. It gets hard to put everything in the story, especially when the writer is as scatter-brained as I am, so there's things that I have only glossed over. Amelia's knowledge of Khan is extremely limited. Pretty much anything that would have been in the news is what she would know. She is fitting in nicely in 2259 and she has adapted well to her surroundings. Amelia's character becomes defined by her ability to adapt. One experience after another. I debated about how I wanted this story to be written and I decided to do it in glimpses. You'll find that most chapters cover new topics, yet connect older ones as far as personal relationships develop. I hope this answers some questions. I also hope they will be answered in the story as time goes by.

I'm working out kinks in the following chapters and have hit a minor rough spot in plot so be kind if it takes the full week for an update. I try and do it sooner as each chapter is complete.

Enjoy!

STARDATE 2260.015

Beta Quadrant

"I paid $4500 for the little ford. It was a standard transmission, five years old, and had 76,000 miles on it. But it was clean and dent-free and I had just enough in savings to say yes. The following January there was an unexpected hail storm and no dents turned into about 15 all over the hood. It made it another eight years and 90,000 miles before I... well before I wasn't there to drive it anymore. I probably would have had to get a new car anyway. I miss my truck." Amelia paused the log, wondering what else was worth adding. Maybe I'll come up with something later, she decided and saved it. She'd only made a few logs so far but they were quality. She considered sending them the Richard, but recalled that he had asked her to just hold onto it.

An already watched video log sat paused on her comms terminal, Richard's face carrying a smile, but his eyes looking tired. He'd updated her on the Salo situation, but the progress wasn't as hopeful as he had expected. But he reminded her that she was safe where she was and that he wouldn't stop until this was 'taken care of'. Whatever that meant.

Powering off her data padd and terminal, she put that out of her mind. There was other stuff she needed to focus on. Like the investigation to find the maturation modifier. Every time a lead had been established, she'd reach a dead end. It was time to pull in more resources. If there was indeed a thief on board, as Chef Th'eon had suggested, then alerting security would be the next step.

She looked to the red numbers just above her door, sighing when she realized that it was time to return to the bay. An engineer would be there soon, finally on loan from Chief Scott, to help with the secondary environment. Even though Yoeman Fuller had said there was only two Vulcans on board, she still intended on using it from Vulcan produce. She could always change it after first harvest.

At precisely 0800 hours she left her room. Instead of the white uniform she had been used to, she had replicated a brown one, using what was left of her January rations. Brown seemed like a more appropriate color, much better at hiding the smudges of dirt that would no doubt appear over the course of the day, Though the white uniform sat folded in her room, waiting to be worn the following day. It had become a key factor in identifying her across the ship.

She passed a few familiar faces in the corridors, other people who lived nearby, and a few smiled in greeting. One day she'd make it a point to learn their names. But not today. By 0815 she was in the hydroponics bay where she heard a small voice echoing from the other end.

Her first thought was that it was the borrowed engineer. "Bloody panels are warped." And not just any engineer it seemed. She found him leaning one of the panels against the wall, his gaze rapt on the base. Like his muttering had pointed out, the panel was curved instead of straight.

"Chief Scott." A startled glare was shot her way, but it quickly softened, a small smile forming on his face.

"Scotty." He gently corrected. "And good mornin', Miss Wright."

"I figured you would send someone else." Since she was sure the Chief Engineer had better things to do than work in the hydroponics bay. Scattered tools rested around his feet and she watched as he stepped around them, moving to get a broader view of the corner where the enclosed space would be.

"Every now and then I like a good project that's not the engine. Besides, I think she'll get along without me for the day." His hand patted the wall and she realized that the she he was referring to was the ship. Just like she formed emotional connections to her plants, he seemed to have done the same with the Enterprise. "Ya' ready to get started?"

There was quite a lot to be learned from Scotty, a genius with a quick calculating mind. He was inventive and dedicated. When they weren't physically involved with the construction, they spoke of the ship and his eyes would gleam with pride and a touch of love.

He talked about the crew and the engaging story of how he'd become part of it. It was almost unbelievable. They had experts on everything. The transporter, languages, security, engines, and navigation. And there was herself, the horticulturist. Apparently word had gotten around about the hydroponics bay and their new crew member who wasn't Starfleet.

At some point he'd asked, "So, how did ya' come across this assignment, lass?"

Oh you know... I'm a time traveler from 1992 and there really wasn't any other place I could go. I don't have up to date skills either. Life's kind of funny like that. Instead she'd said, "Just lucky I guess."

A few hours in, their bodies tired from labor and begging for a break, Scotty was called back to main engineering. He had left in a hurry, but told her to hold off on continuing the construction. "Probably preventing some kind of core melt-down." She said, but trailed off on a laugh, suddenly going serious as she felt that it could be a very real possibility.

Especially after hearing stories of the ship's previous encounters. One on one battles against planet destroying ships. Fights with other Starfleet vessels that had been commandeered by maniacs. All within a couple years of the Enterprise's initial creation.

Not only did the ship have history, but so did many members of its crew. Scotty told her of a fight that ensued between the First Officer and the Captain, describing it as 'exciting'. She wasn't sure if exciting was the word she would have used. Weren't those two responsible for the safety of the entire crew? Did they often get into fist fights?

A chime sounded throughout the cargo bay and Amelia recognized it as the comms center. She quickly made her way to the panel. "Amelia Wright." She answered, holding down the talk key.

"I won' be making it back today. One of the nacelles is overtaking the other on power. If I don't get 'er fixed then we'll be moving in circles." She didn't even bother trying to figure out what a nacelle was.

"Do you want me to pack up anything?" Her gaze drifted towards the mess in the corner, tools and broken panels spread across the floor.

"Nah. Leave it for me, lass. I'll continue work on it tomorrow. Scotty, out."

Since that project was on hold, she figured it would be a good time to see Chef. Th'eon would love to hear about her day so far, more of his time spent gossiping than cooking. And if she left soon she could catch him before the lunch rush.

Fixing her hair back into a respectable bun, she left the bay, taking the turbolift to deck 3. After more than a week of walking the same route, she was more familiar with it now. She could even make it at the end of the day when it was an effort just to keep her eyes open.

The dining hall wasn't empty, but it was far from crowded. Th'eon was already serving at the line, his eyes finding her almost immediately. He threw a box on someone's tray and shooed away an ensign, calling her over. "Amelia, darling. Come on in."

Unlike before, the kitchen now had a semblance of order. Many of the crates were gone and the ones that were left had been organized. Chef had her to thank for that, as she had spent a day dedicated to making paths throughout the room. It had been the only way to get to the excess produce storage area. "I heard that you had a visitor today."

"Where do you hear these things?" The exasperated statement escaped her, his unlimited knowledge of the ship's activity worthy of jealousy.

"One of the crew was talking about it. I hear everything. Superior, remember?" Grinning, he pointed at one of his antenna, as if that explained why. "Also, have you found your maturation modifier?"

"No." A small bowl of something liquidy was shoved in her hand and even though she couldn't identify what it was it smelled good. As soon as Chef handed her a spoon, she took a sip. "I think I need to talk to security."

"And the investigation intensifies." His antennas curled, and she'd learned that it meant he was plotting. Or possibly angry. The two were almost indiscernible. "It would be appropriate to inform security. However, I have heard that we have a hobbyist on board."

"A hobbyist of what?" She took another sip of the nutty soup and passed Th'eon a satisfied wave of approval. Not only could he gossip, but he cooked just as well.

Another ensign appeared on the line and she followed him to the serving area. He didn't let work stop him from continuing to inform her. "Lieutenant Mark Dualla is a practicing gardener."

"And where can I find this Lieutenant?"

"I believe he works in operations." Something Chef didn't know? Amelia arched a brow in surprise. "You would need to talk to Personnel to verify... or you could wait until I hear something else."

"If he even has it at all." Amelia cleaned out her empty bowl, placing it in a stack. It was a small lunch, but the Chef wouldn't be offended if she cut it short to follow up on his lead. In fact, his curling antenna said he'd be disappointed if she didn't.

When she made it back to the hydroponics bay, she was stunned to see two men in the back, busily working on setting up walls. They both turned in greeting to wave, but were back at work a second later.

At this rate, it would be up before tomorrow.

STARDATE 2260.015

Beta Quadrant

McCoy stared at his friend across the table, an exhausted look on his face as he glanced up at the clock with a hopeful gaze. Another story of James T. Kirk's amazing exploits ensued, the man boastfully claiming how he'd saved not one, not two, but three damsels in distress. "It was insane, Bones. I mean these two guys were huge. Massive. But I guess they'd underestimated little ole' me." It continued on, the story even more outrageous than the last time he'd heard it.

And the worse part was... he'd been there. "It was one girl, Jim. One girl and one guy. And he was as scrawny as Chekov. And the police were there within four minutes."

Jim's enthusiasm fell, a narrowed glare shot his way. "You know how to bring a man down, Bones. Next time I won't be telling you the story." The lingering threat was enough to bring a smile to McCoy's face.

"You promise?" At his request, Jim went back to his food, silently. McCoy shot another glance at the clock before looking back at his own bowl. Whatever was inside was thick, creamy, and brown. Not a stew, and not quite a soup. His mouth turned down in disgust. "What is this? Is this even food?"

"Taste fine." McCoy glanced up to see Jim putting the spoon in his mouth. With food still inside, he said. "You can see if Chef will get you something else."

"And anger the Andorian that fixes my food every day? You know how they are, Jim. Vengeful." He pushed the tray away, crossing his arms in distaste. "I think I'll just use the replicator."

"Hey, hey. Who's that?" Whatever Jim had seen, caused him to put the spoon down, his eyes focused somewhere behind McCoy.

"Let me guess. It's a woman." Rapid nods ensued.

"Yeah. Brown uniform." A hand tugged on his shoulder, stopping him from turning around. "Don't look now!" Jim hissed. "Real pretty. Blond hair. She's talking to Chef. I've met almost everyone on board and I've never seen her."

"She's probably got better things to do than to be ogled by you, Jim." McCoy firmly tapped his friend in the chest. "Leave her be."

"She's not even Starfleet." At this, McCoy felt his interest rise. Another attempt to turn around was thwarted.

"Talking to an Andorian. Not Starfleet. Blond hair And you've never met her?" Sarcastically, McCoy sneered. "Must be a spy. Best stare at her to make sure she doesn't poison us all." He jerked on Jim's sleeve, pulling him into the chair.

"You sure know how to bring a man down, Bones." Jim said again as he picked up his tray, his eyes trailing towards the door. This time, McCoy was able to turn his head. "She's gone. Let's go talk to Chef."

"Bout the food?" He'd be sure to politely suggest not making this... dish again.

"Bout the girl." The exasperated sigh that followed was almost as frustrating as Jim's obsession with women. Not that McCoy didn't have that problem once upon a time. But life had delivered a hard lesson that the opposite sex was a force to be trifled with. His nickname was proof of that fact.

They dumped their trays in the recycler, Jim being the first to make it up to the serving line. As the Captain, his mere presence caused the few people in line to step aside. The Chef stared his way, a slow smile spreading across his face. McCoy wasn't sure what the moving antenna meant, but knowing the Andorian it wasn't a good sign.

Jim just had more faith in people than he did. Of course, being a doctor didn't help his outlook on life. He got to see stupid first hand every day...

"Good afternoon, Chef." McCoy rolled his eyes at the smooth tone of his friend's voice. It was sweet and sickening and it reminded him of a used car salesman.

That charm wasn't as effective on the Andorian. His blond brow rose just a little as he corrected Jim. "Good morning, Captain."

McCoy watched on as his friend continued to make a fool of himself, the man's hand waving in an uninterested gesture. Sometimes... it was like waiting for the trains to collide. "Is it morning? I hadn't really noticed."

"So what did you notice that brought you to converse?" There was a knowing look on the alien's face which made the question all the more irritating.

McCoy intervened with a sneer. "The girl. Who is she?"

"What girl?" Feigning ignorance, the Andorian waved a hand in the general direction of a group of seated women. "I see lots of females. Every day. Every meal service. "

Jim turned an annoyed glance at the doctor, saying without words that he wasn't impressed with his methods. Taking back the conversation, Jim said, "No time for games, Chef. McCoy here said she could be a spy."

"A spy. How interesting..." The Andorian trailed off, an annoying habit. McCoy shoved an elbow into Jim's side, hoping to push this along.

"Seriously, who is she?"

"That's not how this works. Tit for tat, Captain. You give me yours..." Even McCoy would have thought the Captain above having to trade gossip, but the Andorian was still waiting and Jim looked ready to give.

"Bold, Chef. Real Bold." Jim tapped his fingers on the barricade for a moment, then suddenly snapped his fingers. "Alright. I heard that the First Officer is involved with our linguist."

Chef cast him an annoyed glare that said he was losing interest. "That was old news two years ago."

"Fine. Ensign Wallis is supposedly sleeping with Lieutenant Parr." Those antenna snapped straight, and then slowly curled towards white hair.

Apparently it was satisfactory gossip, because Chef placed his hands against the barricade and leaned in, saying in a soft voice just above a whisper, "Her name is Amelia Wright. She's a horticulturist and she works in the hydroponics bay." Quickly, he shoved off the barricade, moving to stand in front of someone waiting with a tray. "Now, if you're done interrogating me, I have a crew to serve and you're holding up the line."

As they left the dining room, McCoy turned to Jim. "You do know that you have access to all the personnel files."

"Too much work."

"More than that." With a quick jerk of his thumb he pointed towards the dining hall. Why was it that Jim always chose the path of most resistance? He watched his friend's back as Jim headed the opposite direction of the bridge.

Shaking his head at the man's antics, his feet carried him the well worn path towards sickbay. He was scheduled to review the ship's roster and find out if there were any non-vaccinated personnel on board. And he was already running ten minutes behind his preset schedule.

"No point in really keeping time on this damn ship." Because everything seemed to operate in days and weeks and the months it took to pass from one solar system to another. Jim had mentioned checking out an anomaly that was four days travel from their current location.

Which was who knows where in the Beta quadrant. Personally, McCoy hated space. He hated everything about it. The endless expanse. The disease. And the boredom. What he wouldn't give to be performing surgery...

But he had adapted to it, because life was one small adaptation after another until evolution kicked in and rocked the whole system.

Sickbay was as empty as ever, the only signs of life stuck in petri dishes. Sitting at his terminal, he started filtering through the personnel files. All of operations was up to date, the last of their stragglers having come in a few days prior. And navigation had been good to go since day one. He sorted everyone by sections, ticking them off one by one.

Supply however, was composed of multiple groups. The dining hall, the quartermaster's crew, and.. the hydroponics bay. It was listed as having only one member. The female that Jim had seen.

And McCoy could see why she'd caught Jim's eye as he looked over her photo. She was real pretty, stark blue eyes and blond hair. Expanding her profile, he went through it, both medical and historical. The two almost contradicted one another. "Why is she getting the Xeno series when she was born on Earth?" He rechecked the dates of the last set she'd received. "Someone's due.." Marking the profile, he found himself reading the historical data.

"Arizona, 2229. 30 years old with a birthday in May. Degree in Horticulture studies." It seemed... sterile, less thorough than most contractor's profiles. He skipped to the bottom. "Redacted. Now why in the hell would a horticulturist have a classified file?"

"Computer!" He shouted, swerving in his chair. "Where is the location of crew member Amelia Wright?"

A computerized female voice responded, "Cargo bay six."

"Open a comm channel with Amelia Wright's communicator."

"There is no assigned communicator."

"Why the hell not?"

"Unrecognized command."

"I wasn't talking to you." He muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Every member of the crew had a communicator. It was standard issue. His eyes drifted back to the screen, the big red letters at the bottom of her file standing out. REDACTED. Wondering if sickbay was the only place she had yet to visit, he instructed the computer, "Computer, open a comm channel with Yeoman Fuller."

A series of beeps sounded and he heard the brisk voice of the young man. "Quartermaster Fuller."

Going with his hunch, he asked, "This is Doctor McCoy. Did you process Amelia Wright when she came on board?"

"Actually... no, sir. She did stop by before launch though. Asked for some supplies for the hydro bay. Real nice lady." By the tone of his voice, real nice lady meant she hadn't hounded him like everyone else pre-launch.

"Why wasn't she processed?"

"She wasn't on record to be processed. I did check the manifest after seeing her though. I'd figured she must have been processed on another ship and just moved with equipment. For all I can see she's valid crew."

"Well, set her up with a standard issue. White uniforms, communicator. Whatever else she would get on initial boarding."

"Will do, sir." Hopefully the kid wouldn't ask too many questions and would keep this to himself.

McCoy briefly considered telling him not to mention it, but decided against it. Their quartermaster wasn't known for gossiping, unlike the Andorian... and Uhura... and pretty much everyone else. "Computer, close channel."

McCoy scratched his head in confusion. It was like she came out of nowhere. No processing through supply. No processing through medical. The latter was worse because she'd missed an entire series of hyposprays. "Infect the entire crew and then where would we be. In space... with no one to save us."

He grunted, heading over to collect the necessary supplies and a transport kit. He could open a comm directly to the hydroponics bay and summon her to sickbay, but this was something he'd make the trip for. And Jim had wanted to know more about her so if a few questions came up then so be it.

Finished with packing everything into a silver briefcase, he went back to the terminal to close her file. It wouldn't do to have anyone else seeing it. The last thing they needed on board was all eyes pointed at the new girl...

STARDATE 2260.015

Beta Quadrant

The two crew members continued to work in the back corner, making decent headway in the past twenty minutes. Amelia tried to keep her distance, but in the end she would find herself over someone's shoulder. She didn't want to correct them, knowing that it would get back to the chief if she continued to hassle his crew.

But the door is in the wrong place. It had been much easier working with Scotty, the man a perfectionist. His crew just didn't seem to have the same idea on where everything was supposed to go. Finally, she stopped one of them, once more showing them the diagram she'd drawn. Without complaint, they moved the door.

See.. that wasn't so hard. She'd never had to manage people before, her little greenhouse a one-woman shop. And it hadn't required hours just staring at a screen trying to learn how to use it.

Satisfied that they were back on track, she returned to the plant beds, adjusting lighting one each one to simulate night. Originally she'd wanted to do it when she went to bed, but after finishing another chapter in the hydroponics bay guide she'd learned that growing plants in space was done just a little... differently.

With the crew's few mishaps, she didn't feel like leaving to track down the hobbyist Lieutenant Mark Dualla. She made her way to the cargo bay doors, opening a container that was attached to the wall. The assigned data padd rested inside, already powered on. She pulled it out, navigating until she opened a free notes section. With a quick scrawl, she wrote his name.

A task for tomorrow.

Ever since she had finished setting up the plant beds, she realized why this had been a single person assignment. It wasn't too hard. Yeah, there were a few pop up jobs aside from the regular maintenance and care of the plants, but it wasn't more than one person could handle.

In fact, she found it pretty crowded right now with three...

Attempting to keep herself otherwise occupied, she grabbed a tricorder that was sitting next to the data padd. It was a good time to check the soil, the tomatoes showing their first sign of green. Before she was able to turn around and get started, the bay doors opened.

And in waltzed the captain.

She'd seen him around, his stature hard to miss, crew members going out of their way when he was nearby. She wondered what had brought him to the hydroponics bay. Maybe he was checking the status, an errand that he was bound to get to sooner rather than later.

"Captain Kirk." She said as she replaced the tricorder back into its holder, tilting her head to give him a once over. They could have passed for siblings, blond hair, blue eyes, and similar short stature shared between the both of them. Except he could easily pass for model material. His yellow shirt was crisp and clean, looking as diplomatic as Richard always had.

When he smiled it was far more familiar, flirty and casual. He gave an uncertain wave of his hand, gesturing towards her. "You're Amelia Wright?"

"I am." The noise in the back corner of the room came to a halt and she shifted to glance back. The two crewman sat watching her interaction with the captain. Realizing they'd be caught, they turned back to the work, the faint noise of tools once more filling the bay. Slowly, she turned back to the captain. "What can I do for you?"

With a small shrug, he started off towards the cucumber bed, his eyes darting between her and the small green leaves popping out of the ground. "I just thought it was time to see if we had some veggies."

She smiled, a little amused by the fact that he thought they would be farther along. He didn't seem like the kind of man who would take interest in things like plants and a still under construction hydroponics bay. "It'll take longer than a couple of weeks. But they are in the ground. And they're showing progress."

He did a good job feigning interest in the bay, walking past the various plant beds, eyes landing on each one for just the right amount of time. But there was a hesitancy to his step and he would cast her the occasional sideways glance. Like he was patiently waiting for something.

Being forward had never let her down, so she went ahead and asked, "Is there anything else?"

That seemed to be what he was waiting for, because he turned on his heel, facing her with that same wide smile. "Well, as Captain, I make a personal effort to introduce myself to all new members of the crew. So, after looking at the manifest you can imagine how disappointed I was to find out that I had overlooked the one person who is going to keep us well fed." He was good. The right amount of charm. The right amount of looks.

If only she hadn't already been warned by Th'eon that the man was an incorrigible womanizer. Of course, that just made it better seeing the captain in action.

With her own wide smile forming, she said. "I'm afraid Chef's in the dining facility on deck three." His smile didn't fall, but instead shifted into a grin.

"Ha. I get it." He opened his mouth to say something else, but it snapped shut, his eyes landing somewhere behind her. She turned to see the open doors of the bay, a man in a white medical jacket carrying a silver case stepping inside.

Where she would have classified the captain as pretty, the doctor easily fell into 'rugged'. A small growth of facial hair and accusing hazel eyes completed that picture. She found her smile faltering, a little stunned by his sudden arrival. Though she wasn't as caught up on all the gossip like Chef was, she had still heard plenty about the ship's doctor.

"Doctor McCoy?" She asked, catching the small nod he sent her way. Finally, she had a face to put against the man who had been shouting at Anthony in supply.

"Amelia Wright?" He practically grunted in question, and she nodded back.

"Bones." The captain at her back said across her shoulder.

"Jim." Another grunt, but a little friendlier than the one she'd been given.

There was an extended pause before she clapped her hands, all eyes turning towards her. "Well... now that everyone's met, uh, can I ask what you guys are doing in the hydroponics bay." It certainly wasn't the best place to hold a sort of meeting...

Captain Kirk sighed and rolled his eyes before muttering. "Thought we just went over this."

The doctor, still glaring, ignored him and said, without the grunting, "You're due for your Xeno series and giving you the benefit of the doubt-" The way he said it, his voice slow and dry, implied the opposite. "-I realized you didn't know how to get to sickbay to receive them."

"Xeno series?" Kirk asked with a hopeful tone. She couldn't understand why this made the captain perk up. He tilted his head to look her way. "You're not Terran?" Maybe he was into aliens?

"I am. I just never received them as a child." It was bound to come up at some point, and she found herself easily regurgitating the practiced response. "In fact, I only started to get them after contracting with Starfleet." The last part was an added amendment to ease her conscience. It wasn't a lie, but it was close enough that saying it made her heart beat just a little faster.

"Captain," Doctor McCoy said, a little more formal than before. His eyes had yet to stray from her and she couldn't help but feel a little intimidated. Was he angry? Based on what she had heard, the better question was when is he not angry. "I have a few questions for Miss Wright and I'm afraid I need to ask you to leave."

A harsh whisper passed between the two, too low for her to catch, but she did hear the captain's farewell, "Didn't think you had it in you, Bones." Then he turned on his heel, as quickly as he had before, to face her. "It was a pleasure. I hope to see you again sometime."

"It's a small ship, sir. I'm sure we'll run into one another." Both she and McCoy watched as the captain left the cargo bay. Before she could begin to get drilled with medical questions, she looked towards the two crewmen in the back of the bay. Figuring it was best that she be the one to kick them out, she shouted, "Hey!" She waited a moment for them to stop working. "Mind taking a lunch and giving us a minute?"

They passed questioning glances to one another, but proceeded to lay their tools on the ground and head out the doors. When she turned back to the doctor, he was still staring at her,

"You gonna tell me what you're doing on this ship?" A small part of her had been expecting this. Someone was eventually going to ask that question, and it made sense that it was Doctor McCoy. He had access to her file. And she was sure that he was a smart man and could put pieces together.

Though he'd never come close to guessing the truth.

Richard had prepped her. His father had prepped her. But lying didn't come naturally and she had to be careful about what she said. Another set of practiced answers started to flow, automatic with a touch of personalization. "I was assigned to this ship. And if you look around you'll see why." With a small wave, she indicated towards the plants behind her.

For a brief moment she wondered if he was a betazoid, able to read her mind. Because his face told her he thought there was something she wasn't telling him. "My duty is to protect the crew of the Enterprise. Now, I don't know who got you on board, but the fact that you skipped medical and supply brings up a whole lot of questions." She took a moment to process that statement. Was he implying that she would harm members of the crew? The subtle insinuation irritated her, her eyes narrowing in response.

He watched her as he started walking towards the only desk in the bay, resting his silver case on its surface. With a flick of his thumbs, he popped it open.

In a defensive manner she brought up her hands, palms facing him. "Woah, woah, woah. One, I'm not Starfleet. I didn't have to go through you. Two, I went to supply on my second day of being on this ship. I didn't skip anything."

"You skipped your Xeno series, which is a biological hazard. Especially when you're trapped in a steel container with over a hundred other people."

"Yeah, well, I've had a lot on my plate trying to get food on yours." This time, she let some of that irritation seep into her voice.

"Hell of an effort." An unimpressed glance was sent past her towards the several seeded beds. "Maybe in half a year I'll get a damn potato." The conversation was swept into a swift spiral downwards. Every word out of his mouth sounding more and more like an accusation. Hell, it was an accusation. He was pissed, but she just couldn't figure out the reason. He didn't even know her. A small voice retaliated in her mind with 'maybe that's why'.

He continued, pulling a hand held device out of his jacket pocket. "And why don't you have a communicator? It's standard issue!"

"I don't have one, because they are Starfleet issue."

"Contractors get them too!" McCoy shook his head, as if trying to clear it of confusion. That hard stare went back on her a moment later as he asked, "What are you doing on this ship?"

She wasn't sure if it was that ruggedly handsome face, or his god-awful attitude, but the sudden desire to hit him almost overwhelmed her. Several four letter words came to mind, but she kept her mouth closed, her jaw clenching in rising anger.

Those practiced answers were shoved to the side. She didn't have to defend herself to him. Not to anyone. It wasn't her fault that she had been unwillingly yanked from 1992. It wasn't her fault that she had only been given a month to prepare for this life. It wasn't her fault that there were just some things that Richard hadn't told her.

Her hand balled into a fist, her fingernails biting into skin. Don't take any crap from anyone. Captain O'Shea's words rang in her mind. Slowly, she looked from him to the open silver case and the five hyposprays resting inside. She didn't feel like fighting with him. She didn't feel like fighting with anyone. With a small sigh, she said, "Just give me my shots and get out of my bay."

If she was lucky, she'd be able to avoid him for the next five years...