Molly sneaked another peak at her co-worker and found that he was staring right back at her with his arms crossed and a pensive look on his face. He lifted his chin and leaned back on his shuttle craft's tubular engine. At least, she thought his expression was pensive; it was hard to tell under his bony brow that looked something akin to a flesh-covered turtle shell on his face. She panicked when their eyes met and ripped her gaze away. She wondered if he could hear her heart pounding across the breadth of the hanger.

She still could not get over the fact that she was working with an alien; a real, live alien in the belly of a spaceship tearing along at nearly the speed of light. She busied her hands with the bundle of filaments from the damaged cable he'd directed her to disentangle. Warmth seeped into her face. She was a bit mortified by her rather indecorous impulse to gawk at him. She felt she should be able to take it in a bit more stride. After all, Khan wasn't exactly human. Then again, perhaps her disbelief had been easier to suspend because the Captain looked mostly like an Earthly inhabitant. His second in command (Jorr of the House of Njog of the planet Kronos as he had introduced himself) had a frame resembling that of a human body-builder but his nose with its cartilage-like ridge and his eyes with their almost fluorescent yellow slivers were indisputable proof that there was more to the universe that she had ever imagined.

Molly glanced up again. The large Klingon continued to study her without guile as though he was completely unconcerned about any possible offense he committed.

"I-Is something amiss?" She asked.

He shook his head slowly, his walnut-brown, braided hair flicked from side to side. She continued at her task but paused again after another uncomfortable episode of scrutiny.

"Are you certain?"

One of his thick, wing-like eyebrows twisted up.

"Do all female humans suffer the same fragility of ego as you?" he asked in a rough, gravelly voice.

Molly pressed her lips together. The hairs up the back of her neck bristled. Regrettably, he seemed to share his Captain's disdain for her lineage. She was not impressed that misogynistic attitudes hadn't improved much in the two-hundred plus years she'd leap-frogged through history. However, perhaps Commander Jorr's attitude was something she might attribute to his species. He looked like a creature built for battles from ancient history; times when women were mere chattel.

"I don't know. Do all . . . ," she wrinkled her nose and waved her hands at him, ". . . Klingons lack in social mannerisms like yourself?"

His eyes narrowed and she swallowed an anxious lump as she berated herself for insulting him. For a few seconds, she wasn't entirely confident he wasn't going to toss her out of the hanger bay, but then he barked a laugh.

"Are you challenging me, tiny woman?"

She dropped the wad of fibers, slapped her hands on her knees and lifted her chin. Something about his derisive laugh caused her blood to boil.

"M-Maybe . . . well, actually, yes! I think I would very much to prefer to be the one standing around and watching someone else work."

Commander Jorr took a breath that puffed up his chest. A satisfied smile played across his lips. He pushed off from the long cylinder shaped engine he'd been leaning on and crossed the floor to where she sat.

"You would prefer to be the one in charge?"

Molly blinked up at him in confusion. Her lips rounded in confusion.

"What-"

He crouched down. His massive head tilted sideways and Molly fought the urge to scoot backwards on her butt. The yellow in his eyes flashed like the markings of a poisonous lizard's skin which was a mesmerizing contrast against the bronze-brown of his skin. At this proximity, despite his peculiar anatomy, she found herself thinking that he was not wholly unattractive. He was not exactly the sort of male who appealed to her, but she could see someone like him having no problem finding admirers back home, even in her time. She tensed as his eyes danced across her face. Suddenly, the mood of his regard seemed to shift. An intensity lit his eyes.

"To challenge a Klingon is to solicit him, woman. Do you wish to mate with me?"

Molly's chin went back. The oddly reticent Computer as of late finally decided to save her and interrupt. Her voice (Molly had decided the Shrike's tone was feminine) echoed throughout the chamber.

"Commander Jorr, Starfleet Regulations-"

He snorted and looked up with a sneer. "What have I told you about citing Starfleet regulations to me?"

There was a pause. Molly could have sworn she heard the Computer sigh.

"As you were."

Molly frowned. Could computers be cowardly? She turned her gaze back at the hulking male stooped only a foot away, annoyed but not surprised the computer was intimidated by him. She gnashed her lip. His question reverberated in her mind. Heat flared through the flesh of her face so quickly that her cheeks tingled.

"Mate with you? Oh, my . . . god . . . n-no. No!"

He squinted. "Hmm. Yet you seek to dominate me with your will. To a Klingon, this is a clear message. Also, the Captain warned me you might become aggressive-"

Molly shook her head until she felt her brain jiggling. The scorch of her embarrassment flooded down her chest. She hauled herself to her feet and pressed her knuckles to her face to cool it.

"No, and the Captain is- never mind! Lord, I-I just want to be treated with . . . with some respect. Yes, respect! Is that too much to ask?"

He lifted his chin and slowly rose to his feet. For a few seconds he bobbed his head, then thumped a fist to his chest.

"Respect. Honor. I do not use these terms lightly. Are they important to you, woman?"

Molly nodded curtly. "Yes, Commander, a-and my name is not 'woman'. After attending medical school, becoming a pathologist, enduring a journey through time and surviving this red matter business I think I have earned some damn respect. In fact, if you want my continued assistance, y-you will refer to me as Dr. Hooper."

For a moment, the large Klingon gazed down at her, then another smile tinged his lips. His brow arched.

"There is that defiance again. Are you certain you are not . . . what do you humans call it? Flirting?"

Molly sputtered a sigh. "Most assuredly not."

Commander Jorr chuckled.

"This is probably for the best. I would break you," he grabbed her shoulder and jostled her whole body as he shook her, "you are so flimsy."

Then, he slapped her back, nearly winding her in the process.

"Ha! I understand your need for respect. Respect is life. From now on, I will use your preferred title, Dr. Hooper."

Molly pursed her lips and reminded herself to be grateful for small victories. "Well, thank you, I guess."

He dipped his head. "'Woman' was an ill fit, anyway. You more closely resemble a female child of my species. To be considered a real woman, you would have to best me in combat and that will never happen."

She huffed; her victory was short-lived indeed. The Commander gestured for her to follow him and headed towards the exit.

"Come, Dr. Hooper, let us take a break. I need sustenance."

Molly skipped after him.

"Oh, yes, I imagine you have quite the appetite after all that exertion," she grumbled.

He half turned his head and glanced over his shoulder. "A Klingon's needs are very great and not easily satisfied. You should think of that the next time you flirt with one."

Her face flushed again. "Oh, my God! I was not flirting!"

The Commander harrumphed a laugh and looked forward. Unexpectedly, he came to a halt and Molly bounced off his back.

"Oof!"

Before she could stumble too far, his hand shot backwards and grasped her elbow. With a quick jerk, she was set back on her feet. She peered up to see what had impeded his advance and found her gaze locked with none other than that of the Shrike's Captain. Khan's expression was as dark as she had ever seen it. Her stomach fell. She thought she might get sick for a moment.

"Flirting?"

She crossed her arms tightly. "N-No! There has been a cultural misunderstanding!"

Still, guilt churned her guts like a laboring washing machine. She met his gaze with eyes that felt too large for her sockets. A perplexed wrinkle fleetingly obfuscated his brow and her guilt intensified. Then, the taut lines on his face loosened and his perturbed expression seemed to sink back beneath his flesh until his face was as calm as the surface of a mountain lake early in the morning.

"I see," he said simply and turned his attention to his first mate with a twitch of his lips, "Commander, it is 17:00 hours, I assume you are breaking for some food?"

The Klingon's eyes shifted sideways. He wagged his brows.

"Yes, Captain, I find my appetite whetted."

Molly fought a perturbed expression that threatened to crease every line in her face. Her lips pulled tight against her teeth. The bastard, she thought, he was trying to get her in trouble! She glanced back to Khan. A blip of something murky bubbled under his skin. He rolled his neck around.

"Go on then, have your dinner," the Captain's attention remained fixed on her, "I need to consult with my Chief Medical Officer."