Many thanks to my amazingly wonderful alpha/beta Insanity-Red for all the help.

Chapter 4

Harry found himself beamed into a large, gravity-free arena—just like the one he'd done his Zero-G combat training in. Blocks of different shapes and sizes had been suspended randomly all throughout the arena. They would enable him to change direction mid-air, as well as provide cover, if necessary.

Before he could analyze his surroundings further, he heard a quiet whirr and turned to see a small slot open up on one of the arena walls. A small, metallic disk—the kind usually used in the game Velocity—emerged from it, and promptly began shooting red beams at him. Harry was quick to pull out his phaser, specifically programmed to generate only non-harmful beams for the purposes of the exam, and shoot back.

But for every disk he disabled (and his aim was true enough that he disabled a great many), more and more disks emerged to attack him. It was very similar to every firefight he'd been in—a hectic mixture of returning fire, taking cover when it was possible, and dodging like hell when it wasn't.

The whole thing couldn't have lasted longer than a few minutes, by Harry's estimate. He could have been wrong. After all, it was easy to lose track of time when you were engaged in such a fast-paced and taxing activity.

"Congratulations, cadet," spoke a computerized voice. "You have successfully completed the marksmanship test. Next, you will be presented with the following scenario: a Federation starship USS Hamilton—Hermes-class, crew complement 235—has been taken over by the terrorist organization Terra Prime."

Terra Prime? That's an unusual choice of a scenario, Harry mused.

After the destruction of Vulcan, someone had leaked information on Nero's plans to do the same to Earth. In response, the extremist xenophobic terrorist organization Terra Prime had resurfaced—or perhaps it had never truly gone away? Thankfully, the movement wasn't as prominent as it had been a little over a hundred years ago; cases of aggression towards non-humans were few and far between, and thus easily contained and dealt with.

"The ship is currently in Earth's orbit," continued the computer, "and the terrorists have taken the Bridge. Emergency protocols are activated. All turbolifts are on lockdown. Internal ship communications are disabled. All access to ship systems is restricted to only the captain's command. The terrorists are holding the captain hostage in an attempt to obtain the command codes. They intend to use the ship to fire on all non-human embassies on Earth. Your task is to ensure that the terrorists do not succeed. You may begin now."

Harry experienced the familiar feeling of being transported, and a moment later found himself standing just outside the mess hall of the ship in question. The mess hall was currently abandoned—unsurprising, given that the ship was on Red Alert. The corridors were similarly deserted, and the emergency lights lining the walls shone an eerie red.

Keeping his weapon at the ready, Harry headed towards the nearest turbolift. All lifts were currently inoperable, which meant he'd have to use the Jefferies tubes to get to the Bridge. If his memory served him right regarding Hermes-class starships, he could access a service crawlway near the lift, and then use his tricorder to navigate his way towards the Bridge.

Minutes later, he reached the panel that would open up just underneath the secondary communications station on the Bridge. Raised voices filtered through the panel.

"—total degradation of mankind by encouraging human-alien relations!"

Harry recognized this voice as Commander Clark Terrell's. He was to be the Lexington's First Officer, but while the ship was still under construction, he taught xenoanthropology at the Academy. He had also served as Enterprise's First Officer when Spock had taken a personal leave shortly after the vessel had left for her shakedown cruise. And apparently, his acting wasn't half-bad.

"If things keep going as they are now," Terrell continued, "there won't be any humans left! I love humanity too much to sit back and let that happen."

"You're insane."

This voice belonged to Captain Leah Mayweather. Harry was well familiar with her. Granddaughter to NX-01's Travis Mayweather, she was one of the youngest ever to enlist in Starfleet. Unlike her grandfather, who had begun as a helmsman, she'd started off her career as a Security Officer and had faced a multitude of dangerous situations over her years of service. She was also particularly fond of history and believed that it should be carefully studied and learnt from.

All this made her an ideal candidate to oversee the training of all future security officers at the Academy. She was directly involved in creating simulations—each and every one of them specifically designed to test a cadet's strengths and weaknesses. Her tests were always fresh, interesting, and kept the cadets on their toes.

If Harry's team won this treasure hunt, they would have a choice of serving on the Bridge of Lexington directly under Captain Mayweather's command, as she was to be the ship's commanding officer.

Terrell scoffed. "One person's craziness is another person's reality."

Harry rolled his eyes, beginning to carefully remove the panel. The quote was a bit much; but then, Terrell always did have a bit of a flare for the dramatic.

There was some shuffling of feet before Terrell continued, "We merely want to return Earth to its rightful owners. We want to give Earth back to humanity, back to human beings."

"Then you and I have nothing left to discuss," replied Mayweather stubbornly.

"You would risk the lives of your crew—your own people—for some aliens?"

"Those aliens, as you call them, are our people! And I will do whatever is necessary to protect them."

"So will we, to achieve our goal."

Harry's time was up. He had to act, and he had to act fast. According to his tricorder readings, there were nineteen people on the Bridge, thirteen of them unconscious. One of the remaining six was the captain, and he had to assume that the rest were hostiles. Thankfully, there were no active biosigns in close proximity to the secondary comms station, so he finished removing the panel and prepared to jump out, guns blazing.

The opportunity presented itself only a few seconds later, when Terrell began loudly threatening to kill off the crew one by one and make the captain watch, if she refused to disclose her command codes.

Harry swiftly emerged from the Jefferies tube, simultaneously incapacitating two of the five hostiles. Of the remaining three, two turned their weapons on Harry, while Terrell aimed his at the captain's temple. If he used his magic, he could easily overpower all three of them without any difficulties; but for the purposes of this test, he had to improvise.

"Nobody move, or I'll French fry his brains," said Harry, his weapon trained on Terrell's head.

The captain's mouth twitched slightly as she bit back a smile. She was tied to the captain's chair, her hair and uniform slightly dishevelled—she had clearly 'put up a fight' in an attempt to save the Bridge, but had been unsuccessful.

"Do that and your captain dies," warned Terrell, pressing his phaser more firmly into Mayweather's temple, prompting her to pretend-wince. "And then we all die. You don't really want to find out up close and personal what a warp core explosion looks like, do you?"

Harry furrowed his brow but didn't move.

"Oh, I'm sure you're wondering how your captain's death would explode the core," said Terrell gleefully. "An aspiring security officer would surely know what a dead man's switch is, no? We made some modifications, of course. But the gist of it is that there's a bomb attached to the ship's warp core, and your captain's beating heart is the only thing that's stopping it from going off."

At this, he reached one hand to Mayweather's wrist to tap on a bracelet of sorts.

Another variable. It was very common in all of Mayweather's scenarios. Just when you thought you had the solution to a problem, another challenge would reveal itself, making the previous solution obsolete.

"It is our insurance policy, if you will," continued Terrell, "against overzealous security officers like you. Your job is to save as many lives as you can—at any cost. Isn't that right? Do you really want to be directly responsible for the death of the other 234 members of this crew? We get the codes, and you can all safely leave this ship—everyone gets what they want. Now, lower your weapon."

"Don't do it, Potter!" shouted Mayweather, fighting against her restraints. "We can't let the ship fall into his hands!"

"Do be quiet, ma'am," warned Terrell. "For everyone's sake."

Mayweather did fall silent, but kept mouthing to Harry: "Shoot me."

Sure, the objective of the test was not to let the terrorists fire on all non-human embassies down on Earth, but there had to be a better way than blowing up the vessel—even though protocol demanded that in the event of a hostile takeover of the ship, all steps must be taken to ensure the safety of Federation citizens, including self-destruct of said ship.

Harry took a slow breath and considered his options. One of the best assets of a security officer was speed, and theoretically, Harry could take out Terrell before he had the chance to shoot the captain—he'd just need a better angle. He began to slowly inch his way towards the helm, thinking what to do with the other two hostiles who currently had their weapons trained on him. He might be able to incapacitate one of them before he himself went down, but what to do with the second?

The answer presented itself a moment later.

Terrell, his gaze still trained on Harry and his phaser on the captain's head, called to one of his lackeys: "Klatecki, would you care to demonstrate our resolve to Mr Potter?"

Klatecki, a second-year cadet of the Security division, gave a stiff nod and replied, "Certainly, sir."

Harry remembered him from previous training exercises—junior cadets regularly volunteered to help with the simulations.

Klatecki swiftly turned his weapon on a form lying unconscious about two feet to his left.

Good try, but pointless, Harry thought smugly, upon registering that the figure belonged to a woman, currently with her back to him, who looked a lot like Hermione—same slight figure, same mess of riotous, brown curls. She was obviously placed there to put him off balance.

Harry knew this was just a test, and the real Hermione wasn't there on the Bridge.

Not for the first time, he was grateful that the Kobayashi Maru test was currently the only one that employed Hermione's potion which made the cadets temporarily forget that they were in a simulation. He'd witnessed numerous command track students crumbling under the pressure, or crying and even vomiting outside the simulator once the test was over. Some of them even ended up changing their specialities, realizing that command wasn't for them.

Not wanting to waste any more time, Harry took aim and swiftly shot Terrell in the hand, making him drop his weapon, and then fired at his chest, incapacitating him. At the same time, Harry had to move away from the second hostile's phaser fire, ducking behind the helm. He emerged a moment later to take him out and turned his weapon on Klatecki and dropped him too.

But he was too late to save Hermione's decoy. Klatecki had already shot her.

Still, the simulation had ended. The lights turned on to normal brightness, and the Red Alert shut off. All the 'unconscious' people began rising to their feet—some with small groans, depending on how their bodies had fallen.

"Great performance, Potter," said Mayweather as one of the junior cadets rushed to help her remove her restraints.

"I think I particularly liked the part where you threatened to French fry my brains," piped in Terrell, grinning.

"Great performance on your parts too, ma'am, sir," said Harry. "Very believable. If one day you decide to retire from Starfleet and become actors, you'd do great."

The captain laughed. "I'm sure my grandfather would turn over in his grave if that ever happened."

She rose to her feet, smoothing down her hair and straightening her uniform. "Regrettably, we lost one member of the crew," she said, her expression turning serious, "but the remaining 234 are safe and sound, and so are the thousands on the planet's surface."

The 'dead' crew member was also on her feet, smiling at Harry as she removed a wristband that was commonly used during simulations to emit waves to confuse tricorder readings and register life signs as 'unconscious.' She then proceeded to remove the wig that made her hair look like Hermione's. The woman herself looked nothing like his friend.

"The needs of the many, ma'am," said Harry, turning his attention back to the captain.

"Outweigh the needs of the few," Mayweather finished approvingly, taking a step towards him. "Good to see that you kept your head and didn't get distracted by a familiar sight," she said, indicating the woman who'd pretended to be Hermione.

Harry nodded but didn't say anything.

What could he say to that anyway? That he was happy this was only a test, and therefore making the decision had been easy? That he wasn't quite sure he would have done the same had the scenario been real?

Had the scenario been real, I'd use my magic and not gamble with Hermione's life in the first place, he reminded himself.

"You should know, Potter," said the captain, clasping her hands behind her back, "that only about 25% of cadets attempt what you've done here—even fewer actually succeed. Most don't have your speed and accuracy and opt to shoot the captain, thereby blowing up the ship. But at least they save the embassies, which is the primary goal here.

"We'll do a detailed performance review back at the Academy, but for now . . ."

One of the junior cadets brought a small box of puzzle pieces to Mayweather, which she handed to Harry, saying: "Good luck on the rest of your exam."

"Thank you, captain."

Hermione got a strong urge to grab her teammates and Apparate back to their ship, but she willed herself to stay put—even when there were only a couple of meters left between her and the wall.

Stay calm, she told herself once more.

Not only did she and Harry have orders not to expose their magic just to anyone, but there were also other factors to consider. For example, how far from their ship had they been transported, and would she be able to Apparate them all back safely, without splinching? She'd only ever side-along Apparated with two people at most before. Currently, the number of people was higher—and so were the odds of getting splinched.

"Stay calm," she said out loud, taking a deep, slow breath. She wasn't overly fond of tight spaces but could handle them much better than heights. "It's just another test."

"You're right," agreed Krell, her voice slightly shaky. "They wouldn't deliberately hurt us. Would they?"

There was a slight hint of doubt in Krell's voice, and Hermione wanted to reassure her.

"Where's Potter?" interjected Raix.

"He's most likely being tested on his skills as a Security Officer," replied Hermione, doing her best to suppress her worry even as she wondered what exactly Harry was facing at the moment. "We were warned that we might be pulled away from the group at any moment to be tested on our individual strengths and weaknesses."

It appeared that Shev's weakness was being tested right then and there. The Andorian had collapsed on his hands and knees, shaking violently, his antennae nearly folded in on themselves. He was breathing fast, and a sheen of sweat was rapidly forming on his face and neck.

"How do we stop this?" asked Krell, nodding in the direction of the walls that were now only about two feet away.

As if in response to her question, a computerized voice spoke up: "Greetings, cadets. You will now answer a series of questions. Provide correct answers, and you may proceed to the next stage of your mission."

"Great," said Krell. "Get on with it then!"

"What is the primary reactive agent in a phenobian cryo-globin antidote?"

"Phenylionictriazide-34!" Hermione replied.

"Correct," the computer confirmed, and the walls retreated slightly.

Hermione took the opportunity to kneel beside Shev to analyze his condition.

She was no specialist when it came to Andorians, but she knew enough about their general physiology and could easily recognize a panic attack when she saw one. She also knew that different people handled panic attacks differently, and what helped one person overcome them had the opposite effect on another—there was no way to know unless she was well-familiar with the individual. And she barely knew Shev. Generally though, the quickest way to decrease the anxiety was to either remove the person from the situation that had caused the panic attack, or to remove the cause itself—and both options were rather problematic at the moment.

As the computer kept bombarding them with questions from different fields—the walls retreating with every correct answer and advancing with every incorrect one—Hermione put her hand on Shev's shoulder and did her best to reassure him that they were not in any real danger and to remind him to breathe. She also pulled a small heat pack out of her medkit and flexed the metal activator inside to start the heating process. She then placed the bag on the back on Shev's neck to give him something else to focus on other than fear and panic. She'd tried the ice pack first, thinking that the cold might be more familiar and offer some comfort, given that his home planet was an ice world—but it'd had the opposite effect. The heat bag seemed to work much better.

At one point, some small, ungenerous part of her had been briefly tempted to slap him hard across the face. In theory, it would make him angry, and pain and fury would get him to temporarily forget about freaking out. And if not, then at least Hermione would get the satisfaction of slapping him. But such behaviour would be highly unprofessional, and she decided not to resort to it unless there was no other way. As annoying as Shev was, it was still Hermione's duty as the mission's medical specialist to look after him. And she wasn't about to let her personal feelings get in the way.

"What is the threshold of the H2 molecule?" the computer continued.

"14.7 electron volts," answered Raix.

"Correct. What is the Vulcan word for 'Star'?"

"Yel!" said Krell.

"Correct. What was the combined number of fatalities for Federation and Romulan forces during the battle of Tarnu?"

"Sixty-one," replied Hermione, doing quick math.

"Correct. Calculate the intermix ratio necessary to reach a starbase fifteen light-years away at warp factor five, if the matter and antimatter tanks on a Constitution-class starship are nine-tenths depleted."

"That's a trick question," said Raix. "There is only one ratio with matter-antimatter—1:1."

"Correct."

Dozens of questions later, the computer finally let out a series of beeps and said, "Final score is 1,394. Congratulations, cadets. You may now proceed to the next stage of your mission — the survey of Archer IV. A map of the area that we require you to survey has been sent to your PADDs."

Immediately everyone's devices let out a chime, alerting them of the incoming data. Hermione quickly glanced at the map, noting that the area was roughly 100 square meters—not huge, but considering the diverse flora and fauna on this planet, the task might take a while.

"You have only 2 hours allotted to this task," continued the computer. "Once the time elapsed, you must depart promptly, otherwise points will be subtracted. You may begin now."

Hermione once more experienced the familiar feeling of being transported, and a moment later found herself and her team once more in the meadow by the rock with the case.

Shev immediately rose to his feet and stumbled towards their vessel.

"What's wrong with him?" asked Harry, nodding in Shev's direction. He had materialized on the meadow seconds after the rest of the team, a small box of puzzle pieces in his hand. "He looks like hell."

"Panic attack," replied Hermione, taking her friend in and trying to gauge his state.

Harry must have picked up on her probing gaze.

"I'm fine," he said, stuffing the box into his pocket and pulling out his tricorder. "I'll tell you everything once we're done here. Clock's ticking."

Hermione nodded, but it didn't feel right to just leave Shev there all by himself. Given that she was currently the acting captain, it fell to her to handle the situation.

What would James do? she asked herself.

Unless it was a life or death situation and he absolutely could not spare a moment, James would take the time to reassure a crewmember in distress. He wouldn't just leave him all alone.

Her mind made up, Hermione started after Shev.

"I'll be right back," she told the rest of her team.

She found Shev on the floor by the environmental controls terminal, his knees brought up to his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs.

He barely looked up when she walked in.

"What, I can't even get a minute alone around here?" he asked bitingly.

Gone was his flirtatious personality. It was replaced by an acerbic grumpiness that likely originated from some mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"I'll leave you in a moment," she replied calmly, letting his comment roll off her shoulders. "But first . . ." she trailed off, heading for one of the storage compartments she'd personally stocked shortly before the mission.

She pulled out a bottle of water and a couple of necreena bars—a snack favoured among Andorians for those times when one needed a quick energy boost.

"Panic attacks are energy-consuming and usually leave you jittery and tired," she explained. "It's more so true for you because Andorians have a higher metabolic rate than us humans."

She sat on her haunches in front of him and held out the water and the necreena bars. "This should help."

Shev stared at her uncomprehendingly, before turning away. "You don't get to tell me what to do," he growled.

Hermione sighed.

This might be harder than I thought.

"As your doctor on duty for this mission—" she began.

"Doctor-in-training," he corrected acidly.

"That's true," agreed Hermione. "I won't get my doctorate for a few more years, but that doesn't mean I'm not qualified to help you."

"What makes you think I want your help?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, unperturbed. If he was trying to insult her, he'd have to work a lot harder than that.

"Plus," she continued firmly, not dignifying his latest question with an answer, "I'm currently your captain, which means that I actually do get to tell you what to do. And I'm telling you to keep up your strength. Now."

Hermione held out the items in her hands more insistently.

"We're not even halfway through the mission," she said, "and we need everyone to perform the best they can. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the team."

After a stilted moment, Shev sighed and took the proffered items.

She forced a smile, rising to her feet. "Wonderful. You've got fifteen minutes to get yourself together. After that I want you outside and helping us with the survey," she finished, leaving no room for arguments.

She was nearly outside when Shev called after her.

"Hey, Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks."

She wasn't entirely sure what he was thanking her for. The water and the snacks? For finally leaving him alone? For not responding in kind to his biting remarks?

In the end, it didn't really matter. She'd done what she came here to do, and with a small nod in response, she exited the vessel.