My unending gratitude goes to my amazing alpha/beta Insanity-Red for all the help. She's truly a gem :)
A special thank you to my friend Kneazle for her support. She's also a marvellous writer, whose stories will always leave you craving more. You're welcome to find her under my "Favourite Authors" and dive into her many wondrous tales :)
Chapter 1
Stardate 2260.338 — San Francisco, California, Earth
Hermione arrived at the crowded San Francisco spaceport and had only just begun navigating her way through the rush of disembarking shuttle passengers. She cast her gaze around, looking for an exit. She didn't have much in the way of luggage—just her backpack and a very important case in her hands—so at least she could skip the baggage claim and get out of here as fast as possible. After what she'd been through recently, all she wanted to do was settle down somewhere quiet and take a breather.
Before she could take another step, she heard an unfamiliar voice call her name.
"Cadet Granger!" said a tall, burly security officer. "This way, please."
She looked in the direction he had gestured and started in surprise at who she saw waiting there.
Chris? What's he doing here?
Last Hermione had heard before she'd left for the science conference on Betazed, Admiral Christopher Pike had been away on some peace talks with the Klingons. The tensions between the Empire and the Federation were still high, but so far they'd been able to avoid a war—in large part thanks to the admiral's efforts. His past experiences with the Klingons, the knowledge he'd gained from studying all the available information on their people, and his new position in Starfleet Security all combined to make him one of the ideal candidates to negotiate peace. The lack of open conflict indicated he was doing a fantastic job.
Before she could greet him, a commotion further down the corridor drew Hermione's attention. She turned to see several individuals arguing with the security officers and calling her name—judging by the tablets and audio devices they were brandishing in her direction, they could only be journalists.
"Admiral?" Hermione looked to Chris in confusion, but as she opened her mouth to continue, he cut her off.
"Let's get out of here first, shall we?" he said, placing a hand between her shoulders and guiding her towards a set of double doors. "I can take that if you like," he added, motioning to the case she was carrying.
Hermione eyed him for a moment, questions bubbling behind her lips, but wordlessly handed him her luggage. As they walked down the corridors usually reserved for spaceport personnel, her curiosity and unease only grew.
Because even here, they couldn't entirely escape the interested looks. Employees scutting by on errands gave double-takes—one poor sod nearly brained himself walking into a wall.
"I'll have to hunt down and reprimand the person who failed to execute my orders to have you put on a separate shuttle and taken directly to Hangar 2," Chris grumbled. "Your arrival was meant to be private."
"I can deal with a little attention," Hermione waved him off, adjusting a strap on her backpack. "I'm just surprised, that's all. I didn't expect to see journalists here."
"Yeah, well. Any ship surviving a Class 9 neutronic storm with only minor damage and no casualties is sure cause for excitement."
He dismissed the two security officers that were accompanying them, before continuing, "Beaufort is already planning a press conference—and then probably hoping to finally ship you off to Regula I".
Regula I was the Federation's newest and most advanced research facility, located near the Mutara Nebula. Ever since Hermione had met him, Admiral Beaufort had made her numerous offers to join the facility—coming up with a different position every time, as though trying to find something that would suit her tastes enough to tempt her. She'd graciously declined every time; the offer hadn't been unappealing, but she and Harry had long ago agreed to exercise caution and to stick together when it came to Starfleet.
Beaufort's persistence also explained why Chris was personally meeting her at the spaceport; he'd wanted to make sure that the head of Starfleet Advanced Technologies didn't pull rank and whisk her away somewhere the moment she stepped off the shuttle. Despite how busy Chris was, he was always looking out for her and Harry.
Hermione made a face. "He can keep hoping."
"I had a word with Admiral Marcus," said Chris. "I'm hoping he can get him to back off. But you know how Beaufort is, all excited about the endless possibilities of combining technology with your abilities."
Chris switched her case from one hand to another, his expression turning thoughtful. "I do agree with him. To a point," he added quickly. "I think he's being too forceful, and I believe that the choice ultimately should be yours and yours alone. But look at all the lives you just saved—your own included."
Did she imagine it, or was there a slight hitch at the end of his last sentence? She and Harry had both come to regard Chris as family, and they knew the feeling was mutual; it even extended to include Chris' sister Charlotte and his nephew, William. When the Curie—the science vessel that had been taking Hermione and other participants of the conference on Betazed back to Earth—had gotten caught up in a neutronic storm, sitting around and waiting for news must have been nerve-wracking for them.
"I guess I was in the right place at the right time for a change," Hermione said lightly. "At least we now know my device works."
She'd been working on the prototype for her new shield generator for over two years, and her hard work had finally paid off. She'd been very surprised (mainly because the device was a combination of both science and magic, and her and Harry's abilities were still largely kept under wraps and revealed only on a need-to-know basis) when she'd been asked to give a presentation at the conference and speak about her creation (without revealing classified information), and the implications it had for the future of the Fleet and the Federation.
She'd tested it previously, of course, but not very extensively, and certainly not against a Class 9 neutronic storm. She'd had very little sleep over the past two weeks on the Curie, having to make numerous adjustments and modifications to the device even as the threat of death hung over all their heads. But they'd made it.
Thank Merlin, they'd made it.
Feeling too exhausted to continue on the much too-recent topic, she attempted to switch gears.
"When did you get back to Earth?" she asked.
"Don't change the subject," Chris said sternly. "I wasn't done yet."
He stopped and set the case down on the floor, his stance firming in a way that Hermione knew signified a complete lack of willingness to be diverted. Then, making sure that the coast was clear and there were no security cameras in the vicinity—it wouldn't be appropriate otherwise, given their positions as admiral and cadet—he stepped forward and gave her a quick, fatherly hug.
"You gave us all quite a scare," he said, picking up the case again and continuing their walk through the spaceport. "And I know what space is like firsthand and should be used to it by now . . . but somehow it's different with you kids."
Hermione smiled. Chris may not have had any biological children, but there were a few who considered him to be their father figure. Will, James . . . and now she could add Harry and herself to that list.
Speaking of her best friend . . .
"Where is Harry?" she asked. "I thought he said he'd be here."
Chris sighed. "The Curie was running way behind schedule, and conveniently there were a few cadets who needed remedial instructions in hand-to-hand combat. So I made sure that Harry was the one asked to teach them—it gave him something to do other than hurry up and wait. He was going crazy with worry ever since he heard the news. At one point, I thought he was going to commandeer a ship to go and rescue you."
"Rescue me?" She raised an eyebrow. "From the neutronic storm? That would have worked out well."
Chris laughed. "I didn't say he was being rational, did I? I talked some sense into him, of course. But you know how overprotective he is of you."
"No more so than you are of Charley," she pointed out.
"True. I suppose that's a brother-sister thing. He kinda reminds me of me when I was his age. Speaking of my sister, she's cooking up a storm and expecting us all for dinner. Will and Harry will join us once they're off duty.
"That is, if you aren't too tired," he added, throwing her a look and probably taking note of shadows under her eyes. "If you are, I'm sure she'll understand."
Hermione was tired, but she was also eager to see the people she'd come to care for—there was no better tonic for recovering from a brush with death.
She smiled. "I wouldn't miss it."
She then gestured to her case that contained the device that had saved her life. "Can I drop this off at the lab first?"
"That, you can." He held out his hand to her. "Just do it. I know you want to."
"Are you sure?"
"Wouldn't suggest it if I wasn't."
One Apparition later, the prototype had been safely deposited in the lab, and Chris suggested that they walk to his sister's flat. Since it wasn't very far from the Academy grounds, he thought it might be good for Hermione to get some fresh air after being shut up inside a small science vessel for two weeks. Hermione happily agreed, although she had a sneaking suspicion that his suggestion was as much for his benefit—to walk off the nausea caused by being magically squeezed through a space tube—as it was for hers.
She breathed in the crisp, fresh evening air as they walked down asphalt pathways, avoiding the joggers in their Starfleet issued gym attire. That indefinable scent that hit her whenever she returned to Earth after travelling for some time . . . Well, aside from being too nostalgic for words, it was a nice change from the subtle staleness of recycled air.
The commons, as was usual at this time, were buzzing with activity, a diverse crowd of cadets walking this way and that, laughing and chatting, most in Federation Standard, but some not.
Despite it being the beginning of December, here in San Francisco, the weather was mild compared to what she was used to. Winters here were more wet than cold, and in the two and a half years that she'd lived here, she'd never seen snow. Even now, looking at the lights reflecting off the glistening pathways, she could tell it had rained recently.
Chris slowed his pace as they passed the Memorial Garden.
"Have you talked to Kirk yet?" he asked, eyeing the sketia tree that she and James had planted.
She smiled at the mention of James and turned to look at the tree as well. It still flourished, unaffected by the strong winds and torrential downpours. If anything, its environment seemed to make it bigger and stronger.
Definitely an example to follow, Hermione thought to herself, before replying, "A little. After the Curie got the comms back up and running."
"Your friends on the Enterprise have been worried too," he said, giving her a look that she didn't quite know what to make of. "I've been receiving multiple messages from them every day while you were incommunicado."
Hermione chuckled. "They're the ones incommunicado now."
The Enterprise had been sent to investigate a subspace relay that had gone offline in Sector 218. Their trajectory took them past the Agaron Nebula, which was currently interfering with the communication systems.
"Not for long," Chris said.
Before he could say any more, a cadet rounded a corner at a sprint and crashed into him, spilling the drink he was carrying all over the admiral's uniform.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, sir!" the young man cried, his eyes widening in horror.
He shrank away from Chris' hard stare and took a step backwards, his eyes darting between the admiral, Hermione, and the Engineering Building. Hermione felt bad for him—she wouldn't want to be in his shoes.
"I—I'm really—I don't—I'm so," he stammered, taking another step backwards.
When the admiral didn't say anything, but simply continued to give him a hard look, the cadet got more perturbed.
"I—I'm going to be late—for Commander Li's—I can't be late again—I'm really sorry—" he babbled.
"You're dismissed, cadet," said Chris sternly. "Though perhaps in the future you would do well to pay more attention to where you're going."
"Yes, sir! Certainly, sir! Thank you, sir!"
The cadet carefully sidestepped them and, without a second look, sprinted towards the Engineering Building.
"Some kids nowadays," Chris grumbled, looking down at his uniform. "I think he might have just ruined my favourite uniform."
"Chris, all your uniforms are exactly the same," Hermione pointed out, not bothering to suppress a smile.
"Still," he sighed.
After a quick glance around to make sure that no one was in their immediate vicinity, Hermione waved a hand over the uniform, making the stains and the moisture disappear.
"There you are," she said, grinning. "Good as new."
"Thank you."
They reached Charlotte's flat without further incident and were greeted with a wide grin and the smell of delicious food drifting from the kitchen.
"Hermione!" Charlotte exclaimed, hugging the younger woman. "So wonderful to see you!"
She pulled away and studied her. Charlotte's gaze held what Will called 'the X-ray thing,' and judging by her expression, she didn't quite like what she saw behind Hermione's eyes. But instead of commenting on it, she merely hugged Hermione once more.
"I hope the boys get back soon," she said, glancing at the chronometer anxiously and brushing a hand down her apron front. "The roast chicken is nearly ready."
"It'll be fine, Charley," said Chris tolerantly, giving his sister a quick hug before excusing himself to take a call when his communicator chirped.
"Always so busy," tsked Charlotte, shaking her head at her brother's retreating form. "I hardly see him these days."
She bustled Hermione into the kitchen, made her sit down, and offered her some tea.
"When did Chris get back to Earth?" asked Hermione, wrapping her hands around her cup and taking a grateful sip.
"Two days ago," Charlotte replied as she put the finishing touches on an amazing-looking cherry pie.
Once finished, she popped it into the oven and took a seat across from Hermione.
"And how are the Klingons?" Hermione asked.
Charlotte made a face, fiddling with her apron.
"Friendly as ever," she replied sarcastically, stealing another glance at the kitchen chronometer. "Chris isn't allowed to discuss the details of the peace talks, but he was at least able to tell us that we still have peace. The threat of war is still there, but no matter how shaky, for now, we have a little breathing room. Let's just hope things get better, not worse."
Hermione hoped so, too—for everyone's sake.
There was a crack of Apparition from the living room, followed by the voices of two men laughing boisterously.
"Ah, the boys," said Charlotte brightly, getting up to check on the roast chicken. "Just on time."
Harry, who was still grinning at something that Will had said, positively beamed when he saw Hermione.
"You alright?" he asked after they exchanged a brief hug, and he held her at arm's length to give her a once over.
"She's fine," cut in Will, popping up behind Harry's shoulder. "Now move over so I can have my hugs too."
He pulled Hermione for a brief, firm hug, then ruffled her hair affectionately. "Missed you, shortie."
Hermione huffed. "This shortie, no matter how tired she is, can still kick your arse."
She could hear Charlotte snort in the kitchen.
Will crossed his arms and pulled the corners of his mouth down in an exaggerated frown. "Is that any way to talk to your instructor, cadet?"
"Technically, you are no longer my instructor," Hermione retorted, copying his stance.
Will was her—and Harry's—instructor in computer sciences for two quarters. He'd graduated the Academy at the top of his class a year previously, but the Academy didn't want to let him go because he was something of a genius in his field. Moreover, many computer specialists were notoriously bad teachers, but Will was just the opposite; it was why he was so invaluable.
But Will was also her friend—not that anyone other than Harry knew about that at the Academy, since they all strove to maintain a professional façade there. Off duty, however, it was an entirely different story.
"And even if you still were," Hermione continued, "the answer would still be yes—for messing with my hair. Can't you see the horrid state it's already in due to all the humidity? Sir."
Harry burst out laughing, and Will joined him. After a moment of indignant silence, Hermione couldn't help but join them too.
"Having fun, kids?" said Chris, observing the scene from the doorway.
He'd changed into civilian clothes he kept at his sister's—he preferred to dress casually for family dinners.
"Best wash up and take your positions at the dinner table," Chris recommended, "before Charley has a timing meltdown."
"I heard that!" yelled Charlotte from the kitchen.
The dinner went much like most other meals Hermione and Harry had shared in this flat —filled with jokes, laughter, and delicious food. Today Will shared a story about a Monchezkin cadet, whose human friends had decided to prank him by attaching an air horn to his seat during a lab, and Harry talked about a student of his (who could not, for the life of her, pass his class—despite all the remedial instructions) and all the shenanigans she got up to in an attempt to get a passing grade.
"Maybe she's failing on purpose?" suggested Charlotte, throwing Harry a knowing look. "So that she can spend more time with you?"
"Please," said Harry with a grimace. "I can honestly tell you it's not like that."
This lead to teasing from Will and Charlotte, and more jokes.
It was so good to see them all laughing. Harry had been working so hard ("I've got to keep up with you. Can't have you going off into space without me!")—harder than Hermione had ever seen him work at Hogwarts or during his Auror training course. And Chris had looked so worn down these last months; trying to keep peace with the Klingons was not an easy task. Hermione wanted to savour these moments, of them all briefly forgetting everything else and simply enjoying each other's company.
She was so lost in her thoughts, that it took Harry gently nudging her in the ribs to realize that Will had asked her something.
"Blake to Granger!" he said dramatically, using his fork as a pretend communication device. "Do you read? Please, come in!"
He grinned as she rolled her eyes at him, and then repeated his question. "I heard it was your brilliant idea to inverse the warp field during the neutronic storm. Want to tell us about it?"
Charlotte glared at her son. Evidently, she preferred not to discuss this matter at the moment.
Hermione shrugged. "Seemed only logical. We couldn't outrun the storm, so we needed to ride it out. I calculated that it would be analogous to dropping a metaphorical anchor and prevent us from travelling with the wavefront for who knows how many light-years. Plus, it added another layer of protection from the storm. The warp core had to be converted before the field could be generated, and the Curie's Chief Engineer isn't exactly the most open-minded person out there. It all worked out in the end, of course. But it would have been nice to have an engineer well familiar with my thought processes by my side," she finished, patting Harry on the shoulder.
"Technically, engineering is my sub-speciality," said Harry, "and I'm not as good at it."
"You're just being modest."
"No, it's true," insisted Harry. "And I wanted to go with you, but—"
"You had your own little recruiting trip," Hermione finished, happy for the opportunity to change the subject. "How did it go?"
"Quite well."
And Harry proceeded to tell them about the most recent trip a group of senior cadets had taken to Rigel III to hold information sessions for potential recruits.
But Will wasn't quite ready to let go of the subject of inverse warp fields.
"You realize that it's never been done before?" he pointed out, directing an impressed stare at Hermione.
"I do," she replied primly. "But how do you know about it? I haven't even filed my report yet!"
"You better not be hacking into places you aren't supposed to," said Chris, throwing a stern look at his nephew.
"Of course not! I just know people who know people," said Will mysteriously.
Harry rolled his eyes. "Another little bird?"
"Will, change the subject," Charlotte warned. "I'm sure Hermione doesn't want to talk about warp fields right now."
Charlotte was exceptionally perceptive and was right, and Hermione gave her a grateful smile.
"But, mom," protested Will. "Do you realize how amazing it is? It's so—"
"—amazing," Charlotte cut in. "Yes, I'm sure it is."
With an exaggerated smile, she turned the conversation elsewhere. "I expect everyone will be able to join us on Christmas day?" she said with deliberate brightness. "Chris?"
"I can't promise anything," he replied as was his habit. "But I'll do my best."
Charlotte gave him a wry smile, then turned her questioning gaze to Harry and Hermione.
"Yeah, I think we can make it," said Harry. "We don't have anything planned for after the exam. Right, Hermione?"
She nodded absently, internally groaning at the reminder of the exam.
It wasn't just any exam. It was the capstone, comprehensive final exam for the first quarter of their final year at Starfleet Academy, and it included a non-simulated mission with a five-person flight crew that consisted only of cadets in their final year. No onboard supervision by the instructors.
"Speaking of the exam," said Will, "you guys are in for a treat."
"Will," Chris warned.
"What? I'm not divulging some highly classified info here," Will defended. "Everyone knows that the Federation and Starfleet Academy will be celebrating their centennial anniversary next year. So it's not surprising they're doing something special."
"Do tell," said Harry, something in his demeanour focusing.
"Sorry, pal," Will said, glancing at his uncle. "No can do. It'll be fun, though."
"Mate, this is an exam we're talking about," pointed out Harry. "How much fun can it really be?"
"Oh, trust me. It can. Just wait a few more days, and you'll find out."
"Can't wait," grumbled Hermione, upset at Will for hinting at and mentioning something that he had no intention of divulging.
Besides, his idea of fun often differed drastically from hers.