McCoy strode quickly to the Shuttlebay, hoping to beat Spock to it. The double doors slid open and he saw Spock standing quietly while Carter was tossing cases and boxes to waiting crewmen. She was out of uniform, wearing a suede short jacket and jeans. "These can just go to Briefing Room 3," she said quickly. "We are in Briefing Room 3, right?" she glanced up at Spock.

"Negative. We have changed your temporary office assignment. You are now in Briefing Room 5." Spock didn't move.

Carter looked at him. "And where exactly is that?"

"Deck Thirteen," he responded.

"You're not giving us a very auspicious start," she smiled, and hopped off her craft to the bay floor. "And what about cabin assignments?"

Spock looked at her for a moment. "Lieutenant, I must ask that you be in uniform while serving aboard this vessel."

She took off her hat and grinned. "All right. Then can I ask where my quarters are, so that I can change?"

"Your quarters are on deck ten, Cabin 85. With a window, as requested." Spock did not move.

"Forgive me, Commander Spock," she said with a forced patience. "But I always get lost on Starships. Would you please show me to my quarters?"

McCoy stepped up before Spock could deliver the blow. "I'll take you, Addy. I think the Captain is looking for you on the bridge, Spock."

As Spock stepped away, she slipped her hat back on and turned for her suitcase.

"Don't take Spock too personally," McCoy said quickly. "He's just following protocol. According to rank," he started.

"According to rank he doesn't have to show me anywhere," Carter finished. "I just thought he'd be nice."

"He's a Vulcan." McCoy grinned and shrugged. "Can I carry something?"

"Nah, just the one is coming with me," she held the small suitcase. "But you should see all the other crap we had to pack."

They walked the hall to the turbolift. "Deck Ten," McCoy said aloud.

"I got that part," Carter said quickly.

"Do you want to be wandering Deck Ten all night?" he joked back.

Carter smiled and the doors slid open.

"Left," McCoy pointed. "And it's not far. You should be tired."

"I am. But I do want to check in with the Captain before I hide in my quarters."

"Well, Jim is under the impression that the OSFI is staffed by a bunch of," McCoy started, but Carter cut him off.

"Don't. Finish." She shook her head. "This was sprung on us, that's all. I wasn't anticipating doing this for another month or two. We're all a little thrown. Hopefully I can show him otherwise."

"Good Luck!" McCoy pointed to a door, which opened for them.

She looked around and sighed. "So small," she tossed her suitcase on the bed. She flipped the latches and opened it to a neatly folded maroon uniform on top.

"It's a standard size," McCoy sat at the desk and propped his feet up. "Or perhaps you were looking for the deluxe suite?"

"Is the penthouse free?" she smiled, and stepped into the washroom to change in privacy. "Do you always just make yourself at home like this?"

"Well, these cabins all look alike, so I sometimes get confused."

She stepped out; her uniform jacket hanging open, her civilian clothes draped over her arm. She tossed them on the bed and rummaged a small knife from her suitcase and slipped it into a hidden sheath on her calf.

"Are you always armed?" McCoy pointed.

"Well, all crazies tend to look alike, sometimes I get confused," she gave him sly wink. "I'm going to find the bridge."

"I'll go with you." McCoy stood. "What are you doing after that?"

She sucked on a tooth for a moment. "I'd like to get a little drunk, now that I'm here."

McCoy grinned. "Well, I don't know about the 'drunk' part. We tend to frown upon that up here."

"Yeah, they tend to frown on that down there, too," she nodded and buttoned her jacket the rest of the way up.

"But I think I can set you and your partner up when he gets here."

They stepped back out to the turbolift and headed up to the bridge. When the door opened, the Captian and Spock were talking quietly. Kirk turned and saw them, and crossed his arms in anticipation. "Good evening, Lieutenant."

"Reporting for duty, sir," she said stiffly.

"Welcome aboard," Kirk eyed her carefully.

"Sir, I'd like to sincerely apologize for the confusion we've created in recent days. I can assure that the rest of this mission will go smoothly." And she stopped there.

"Hm," Kirk looked at McCoy, who leaned against the railing. "No sob story, Lieutenant?"

"I have no sob stories, sir. As for an explanation; if you want one, I'd be happy to provide it in a less public place." She remained cordial, yet formal.

"I see," Kirk raised an eyebrow at McCoy, who shrugged. "Well, I must say that you've gotten off to a rocky start at best. But you may have time to make it up to me."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"Very well. Is that all, Lieutenant?"

"Yes, sir." She stood and waited to be dismissed.

Kirk stepped behind her and spoke over her shoulder. "If that is all from you, Lieutenant, then I just want you to know that very few of my dealings with the OSFI have been pleasant. This instance is shaping up to be a lot worse."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir." And then she turned to face him. "I cannot speak for the actions of officers with whom I am not acquainted. I can only speak for my team and myself. You have my personal assurance that our mission will be contained and carried out with the highest regard for you and your ship's reputation. Sir."

Kirk was silent for a moment. "Well, if I have your personal assurance,"

"You do, sir."

He nodded. "Then let me extend an invitation to you and Lieutenant Fisher; dinner with the senior staff. Tomorrow night after we're underway. We'll say, 1900 hours."

"I accept, sir. On behalf of myself and Lieutenant Fisher."

"Very well," Kirk straightened. "Dismissed."

Carter turned to leave, but Uhura stopped her. "Excuse me, Lieutenant?"

"Yes?"

"Lieutenant Fisher has sent a message that he will be unable to report until tomorrow morning."

Carter sighed, as though every word she had spoken had been rendered moot. "I'll call him from my cabin. Thank you." She turned to the lift.

"Personal assurance," Kirk said after her.

"Minor setback," she said as the lift doors closed. As the lift hurtled down, she leaned her forehead against the cool metal and swore.

In her cabin, she called up the OSFI Shuttle Bay.

"Addy, I'm sorry. But the coolant leak has to be contained. I can't fly with it like this, and I can't make the repair myself. It has to wait until morning."

"Do you realize that this ship takes off at 0800 hours?"

Fisher shook his head. "Addy, I've got an emergency repair crew in here at 0600. That's the best they could do. If I don't make it, I'll catch up with you somehow."

"Why in the hell do they force us off before we're ready and then not give us the support staff we need?" she was practically shouting.

"It'll be all right, Addy, just relax. I'll make it out there."

The door chimed. "Wait a damn minute!" she shouted. "Look, I just gave Captain Kirk my word that we'd pull this off. Now I look like a boob, do you realize that?"

McCoy strode in and sat down on the chair opposite the desk.

"Ad, everything's going to be all right." Fisher spoke calmly. "I'll be there in time for the staff meeting. Try to get some sleep. Fisher out," and the comm ended.

She sat down heavily and rubbed her eyes. "Fuck."

"You want that drink now?"

"I don't know," she said, not looking up.

"Come on, doctor's orders," he stood. "You need it."

"Don't tell me they've taken to serving liquor aboard starships," she glanced up.

"No, but I've got a personal stash in my quarters," he grinned. "Whatever happens will happen. And it's going to happen in the morning."

She stood up. "You're right."

"And a little nightcap might help you get some sleep tonight," McCoy said as they walked out together.

Chekov sat in his quarters and looked at the new message before him. "I thank you most graciously for your offer of assistance, and I look forward to meeting with you soon," the text read.

He breathed a small sigh, and smiled a little. The door chime rang and Sulu stepped in. "Hey, Pavel. I thought you wanted to catch a workout before bed," he noticed the screen. "Is this your latest pen pal?" Sulu turned the screen around and read briefly. "Are you meeting this person on Arcturus?" he asked suddenly. "I don't think the Captain would authorize shore leave on that place."

"He may, when I tell him it's to help this woman and her family seek asylum in Federation Space," Chekov smiled and shrugged.

"Asylum from who? Have you run this by anyone? Spock, maybe?"

"Asylum from Orion slave traders, and she tells me that I can't tell anyone. We have to do this absolutely secretly, else someone would find out," Chekov said, wrapped up in espionage. "If I help her, she will give me twenty five thousand credits. It works well for everyone."

Sulu shook his head. "I don't know. It sounds a little fishy, if you ask me. But we're taking some intelligence agents to that system. I don't know what for, but maybe they're after slave traders."

Chekov nodded in certainty. "They usually are. Maybe we can help them out with this information."

"When should we tell them?"

"I'll ask her," Chekov pointed to the screen. "She may be excited to know that we're bringing agents to the sector."

Sulu stood up. "Well, let me know what she says."

"And remember," Chekov looked up. "We have to keep this to ourselves."

Sulu nodded, and backed out of the room. But he could not shake the misgivings in his belly.

"Do you remember how I found you?" McCoy drawled and laughed.

Sickbay was dark and quiet, except for McCoy's office, which was brightly lit and had been filled with laughter for the past hour. The two of them had drunk a bottle of brandy, fully a quarter of McCoy's stash for the mission.

"I try not to think about it," she smiled. Her uniform jacket was open and her hair was down. "I was so stupid. Why I thought I could take on an Orion, a pissed off Orion at that…" she tilted back another shot. "I can't believe you didn't call my CO."

"I thought you'd disappear," McCoy waved. "And then you'd head to one of the station docs, and then they'd 've sewn your hand to your head or something," he finished off his shot glass and poured them both another.

"That's enough!" she grabbed the neck of the bottle to stop him from pouring. "I'm chairing the meeting in the morning, remember?"

"That's what happens when you get promoted to goddamn Lieutenant Commander," McCoy drank. "You get to chair a goddamn meeting that I have to be at."

"Pardon me," she drank hers, and then snorted and laughed helplessly. "Oh, god, the captain thinks I'm the biggest boob on the ship right now," she rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Nope," McCoy poured her another shot. "That's my job."

"Okay, if you pour me one more, I'm going to have to take you outside," she thumbed towards the door.

McCoy laughed. "You do that. And once you put me in a big 'ol padded spacesuit, you can kick my ass all over creation."

She laughed again and held up the glass. "No more," and she tilted back the last shot.

"Ad," McCoy said suddenly. "I'll bet you're a hell of an intelligence officer."

"What are you talking about?" she asked in a slur.

"You've had more to drink than me, and yet you still won't talk about anything but your mission."

She looked up. "What, this is some kind of plot? What do you want to know?"

"You and Fisher," he started.

"No," she answered before he could ask. "We're not. Never have. Never will."

"Is that a mutual decision?"

"Yup," she nodded, and sighed heavily. She stood up and grabbed the table for support. "I gotta go."

"Where?"

"Where do you think?" her voice rose. "What, do you freakin' sleep here? I'm going to bed." She turned and started for the door, grasping biobeds as she walked.

"You're going to run out of beds in a minute," McCoy called after her.

"Thank god there's a doctor here," she called back, and tried not to laugh. "I'll see you in the morning."