Back in her room after the twelve-hour party, Carol slipped her shoes off and rubbed her swollen toes. Helluva party, but I should've let myself sit down more, she reflected. She rotated her ankle and listened to the joints pop. Or at the very least, sat out the conga line. I don't have the stamina I once had for three-shift parties.

And this is only month five of nine.

Ah well. She stretched out on her bunk, still clothed, and sighed as her sore back decompressed. She could just reach far enough to get her PADD off the desk without having to sit back up, which was perfect.

"Dear Jim," she typed. "The rec department insists this was a shipboard morale activity, but I think I know whose fingerprints were on that order. Thank you for organizing me such an epic baby shower."

She paused. Jim had stopped by the party, but kept his attitude casual – just a captain attending a shipboard event, that's all. She wondered what would've happened if he'd stood next to her and had everyone say "congratulations, mama and daddy."

It struck her that none of the guests had asked about the daddy. Oh – do they all know already, somehow? Did the gossip get around? A flush rose in her cheeks at the very idea. No – it can't be – we were so careful – but, then, who do they think knocked me up?

The PADD was still on, the cursor blinking. She added, "I love the thought that I'll get home and practically have a whole nursery set up already. This was really the best combination baby shower/going away party I've ever been to. Plus, awesome cake! Truly, thank you. But now that everyone knows I'm expecting, who do you think they think is the father?"

She re-read the message, selected the last sentence, un-selected it, then finally selected it again and hit "delete." What can he do, take a shipwide survey? "On a scale of 1 to 10, how likely do you think it is that Carol Marcus is carrying Jim Kirk's baby?

She signed the message, "Love, Carol" and hit send.

Her video message alerts bar blinked, again. There had been a message waiting for two days. This time, the blinking was accompanied by text saying TWO NEW MESSAGES. Carol opened the message bar and tapped through to the newest message first.

"Happy baby shower, Carol!" Christine Chapel said. "I know what you're thinking: 'how did she find out about the shower?' Frankly, I think your ship's recreation department might be staffed by telepaths. Somehow they found contact information for your non-ship friends and sent baby announcements with your registry info." Christine held up a PADD with the announcement on display. "Actually, this is quality design work. They even put in a holographic stork, see?" Christine tapped on the PADD and a digital bird popped up with a swaddled baby in its beak.

I'll be damned, Carol thought.

"So you see," Christine continued as she set the PADD down, "This baby shower is interstellar news. I wouldn't be surprised if it broke the next galaxy, soon. I had to be quick to find something on the registry that wasn't already spoken for! But, I have arranged for a couple of toddler-safe ship models that have buttons and make annoying noises. Pressing buttons and annoying Mommy are two very important childhood development milestones. Besides which," Christine added with a wink, "I think starships are a fitting theme, considering where and with whom this baby was made. Happy baby shower, Carol, and I look forward to seeing you again!"

The transmission ended, and Carol had a smile on her face. Christine would become the cool aunt in this story, wouldn't she.

The other message was still waiting. Buoyed by Chapel's good wishes, Carol bit the bullet and tapped "view."

A middle-aged woman with long hair appeared. "Greetings from earth, Dr. Marcus," she said. "Since it's been two years, I suppose I should reintroduce myself. Winona Kirk," she added with a wave. "I guess it's too early to congratulate you, but I'm happy to hear that you're expecting.

"Jimmy called and told me that you two are – uh, he explained the situation. And I know you're intending to do this on your own, which is absolutely a commendable thing to do. But I want you to know, that if you want help, or support, or advice, or, I don't know, some kind of company . . . I'm in New York. It's only an hour to Pittsburgh by shuttle, and instantaneous by transporter. Which of course you already know."

The woman smiled and shrugged self-deprecatingly. "This isn't the smoothest of introduction videos, I know. I didn't plan what I would say before I said it. I just . . . I want to be a part of your life, and your son's, if you'll let me. All my kids are off exploring the stars. I have energy to spare." She smiled. "Well, that's all. I hope I'll hear from you soon."

The video ended. Carol drummed her fingers along the edge of the PADD. She's met me once. And yet, somehow she is my best friend on Earth. She opened up a new message – text rather than video, because she had just come from an all-day party and her hair was a mess. "Dear Winona," she typed. "I received your video message, and I want to thank you for taking an interest in someone who is almost a perfect stranger. When I get to Earth, I'd like to meet up and get to know one another a little better. Love, Carol."