Christine quickly stripped off her clothes and popped them into the laundry slot before retrieving the bag from the all night pharmacy. Programming a water shower she scanned the directions on the small dark brown cube before hitting the start button. She rubbed the translucent gel between her palms then carefully massaged it through her damp hair allowing the recommended sixty seconds before rinsing it out.
She wrapped her wet hair in a towel and went to the kitchen to make a pot of strong black coffee. It was going to be a long day and she had a lot to get done. She took the coffee back into the living room and sat down at the computer. A quick check told her that her order had been processed and was awaiting finalization. She picked up one of the unused moving containers and returned to the bathroom, momentarily startled seeing her dark brown hair reflected in the mirror over the sink. It would take a bit of getting used to, she decided, but for the first time in a long time she felt like her old self. With one deft move she swept the myriad containers of makeup into the box then sealed it and put it with the trash. It was surprisingly satisfying.
After donning her last clean uniform, she made one final pass through the apartment making sure all was in order. Satisfied she'd left nothing behind she dialed up the aircar service then detached the mobile computer from the base unit chucked it into her pack, grabbed her bridal gown and descended the stairs to the waiting aircab. The aircab docked at the bank a few moments before opening. The driver, a young Denebian man helped her with her pack then started to remove the stasis bag with the wedding dress.
"No. That's a separate delivery. I need for you to deliver that to Nob Hill Wedding Chapel at exactly five this evening." She signed the credit slip and added five hundred credits. The young man's eyes widened at the tip which was more than a week's pay.
"Is there a message that goes with the delivery?"
Christine studied the gown for a moment. "No, I think the empty dress will pretty much say it all."
"May I help you?" The distinguished gentleman stood and greeted Christine. His name plate identified him as Mark McPherron Vice President of Trusts.
"I'm Dr. Christine Chapel Mr. McPherron," she said handing him her ID chip. "I've come to close out my account."
"Happy Birthday Dr. Chapel," McPherron smiled as her information came up on the view screen, then she saw is face stiffen, no doubt upon seeing the size of the account.
"I hope you aren't dissatisfied with our service Doctor."
"Not at all Mr. McPherron, I'm starting up… well you might say a new business venture off planet. I've got the transfer all set up." She handed him her mobile which he connected to his terminal and completed the transfer.
"If we can ever be of assistance to you Doctor, please don't hesitate to contact me."
"Well, someone once told me 'there are always possibilities'; at least I think they told me that. It might have just been someone who looked like me."
Christine didn't stop to acknowledge the baffled look on Mark McPherron's face.
….
"Can you put that in a stasis container?" Christine asked the Andorian man behind the counter not looking up from the mobile screen.
"Extra charge." He responded crossly.
"No problem." She entered the last six numbers of the passcode and waited for final comfirmation. Everything was in place, and with two hours to spare.
She paid the grim faced Andorain, put the container into her pack and moved down the crowded Spacedock departure concourse. According to the departure viewscreen, the Enterprise was loading from gate 9 on the other end of the concourse.
This was going to be the dicey part. Everything hinged on getting past the security checkpoint. With the lieutenant's stripe and Enterprise insignia on her uniform, coupled with a brief flash of her Fleet ID the overwhelmed Passcontrol officers would most likely wave her through onto the crew transport ship. The ID could be problematic. In her symbolic bid to "wash that man right out" of her hair she was no longer a visual match for the bleached blonde hologram that would display if the ID was closely examined.
But luck was on her side and the harried workers, overburdened by a last minute influx of cargo containers, simply waved her through the line. A relieved sigh passed her lips as she stowed her pack in the overhead compartment and settled into her seat.
Half an hour later Christine tossed her pack onto the bed in the VIP guest quarters and stretched out beside it. One final hurdle and she would be home free.