Alpha quadrant
Federation space
U.S.S. James T. Kirk

The engineering conference room was impressive, a large viewport along one wall, the others covered in computer consoles and viewscreens. The large table taking up the majority of the space was similarly technologically advanced, essentially a large computer console with fifteen stations, each one accompanied by a plush chair. As he settled into one of those chairs, Lt. Nenyaht found himself hoping they had engineering conferences often.

"Nice," Lt. Shin muttered as she ran her hand along the edge of the table, coming very close to where Nenyaht was resting his own hand before taking the seat next to him.

"Think it's as nice as the one on deck one?" he asked, trying to decide if she was flirting with him as he activated his console to see what functions he could perform from the conference room. From the looks of it, pretty close to everything.

"Nicer," Lt. Dwi Masters said, taking the seat on the other side of Nenyaht. "I was on the engineering team at UP. They just have a standard table on deck one."

"That seems like a waste," Nenyaht commented. "So they wooed you away from station life?"

Masters waved a spotted hand dismissively. "It was time to get back into space." He paused, then continued, "And Tasha and I split, so it was a bit awkward going to work for her every day."

"Oh, sorry to hear that," Nenyaht said sympathetically. He remembered Tasha Pacheco, an engineering major a year ahead of him and Masters at the Academy. She had been one of the lab assistants for a warp systems course their second year, a high-achieving cadet who often seemed willing to sell out anybody necessary to make it to the top. He had never cared much for her, but his half-Trill classmate had declared her to be "complicated and misunderstood—and hot," and began pursuing her.

"Wasn't a big deal," Masters replied, again waving dismissively. He always seemed to be talking with his hands. "We got married with a limited contract, and we definitely did not want to renew. That was two months ago. I was still in her research group, though, so I've been trying to get away from UP since. She can be a real bitch sometimes." Nenyaht snorted, but refrained from saying anything. "I haven't gotten a chance to talk to too many people on board yet. Anyone else from our Academy days around?"

"Do you remember Abbey Paris?" Nenyaht asked. "She was two years behind us, on the gymnastics team."

"Paris?" Masters repeated, thinking. "Oh, the Klingon twins. Yeah, I remember them. What is she up to?"

"She just graduated from medical school. She's a flight surgeon with OFA."

"Flight surgeon?" he asked, laughing with disbelief. "I thought her brother was the smart one. Didn't you used to tutor her in engineering?"

Nenyaht clenched his teeth together tightly in frustration. Joe Paris took after their mother—he had a natural knack for engineering and anything involving math, always thought of things a little bit differently than everyone around him, coming up with solutions to problems that baffled most others, and seemed to have unnatural strength and endurance. He completed majors in both tactics and engineering while serving on Red Squad and captaining the parrises squares team, a combination that would have exhausted any other Starfleet cadet. He ended up graduating with Interstellar Honors as the class salutatorian. Abbey, on the other hand, was easily just as smart, if not smarter, but her interests lie outside of the traditional Starfleet studies of math, physics, and astronomy. Less driven than her brother or mother, she didn't see it necessary to give her studies the same attention as other aspects of her life, such as her gymnastics or even her music. "She was a microbiology and genetics major," Nenyaht said. "She didn't have much use for math and engineering."

Masters nodded slightly and looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment, Commander Noe entered the room and took his seat at the head of the table. "Sorry about the delay," he said, not offering any explanation of where he was. "Before we go any further, I think it would be best if we went around the table and introduced ourselves. Give us your name and rank, your last posting, and your outside interests." The engineers all looked at him blankly, so he added, "I believe this is what the humans refer to as an 'ice-breaker'. I will start."

As they went around the table, Nenyaht couldn't help but notice how well they all fit the mold of the stereotypical engineer with nothing else going on in their lives—even their outside interests were all related to engineering, such as holoprograms, designing shuttles, building model ships, and the like. The only one who broke the mold was Lt. Shin, who had just left the Vulcan Science Academy and listed her interests as "gardening, any form of dancing, and good plays." Even though he had just met the younger biomedical engineer, none of that really surprised Nenyaht.

Lt. Commander Ng explained the rotation plan to them after the introductions were complete. Since smaller sections, such as biomedical engineering, deflector control, and observational systems didn't need as many engineers as propulsion or structural systems, there was no set amount of time any one junior officer would be in any one section, but he emphasized that it wasn't necessary for them to know the specifics of the rotations—they would be told who would be working in their section on any given shift, and the junior engineers would know where they are to go. He also made sure they were aware that any emergency or major repair in one section would require engineers being pulled out of others to assist. They all had that figured out already.

When he opened the floor for questions, Shin was the first to say something. "Will there be any chances for us to rotate through other sections, for the purposes of cross-training and maintaining proficiency?"

Lt. Commander Taro nodded. "You will each be scheduled for one shift a week in another section as part of your normal duty shifts. If you would like more, bring it up to Commander Ng or myself, and we'll schedule you for additional shifts."

"Actually, Lt. Shin, due to the fact that this is your first ship's posting and your training is a bit nontraditional, you have two shifts a week of cross-training," Commander Noe interjected. Shin nodded her understanding. Nenyaht tried to get her attention to ask what that was about, but if she noticed, she gave no indication as she continued to listen to the remaining questions and their answers.

After the briefing, Shin gathered the few PADDs she had brought with her and glanced at the chronometer on the wall. "I heard this place has a bar," she said to Lt. Nenyaht. "You want to check it out?"

He also glanced at the chronometer: 2230. He hadn't realized it was that late. He was going to beg off, thinking that he should probably find Abbey and see if they were still capable of having a real conversation, but then changed his mind. She had said she had a shift to work in the flight sickbay that night; for all he knew, she was still there. And even if she wasn't, she was just as capable of contacting him as he was of her, and if she wanted to talk, she knew how to get a hold of him. "Sure," he replied, shooting Shin a wide grin. He straightened and adopted a serious expression. "As senior engineering officers, it's our responsibility to become familiar with our surroundings."

She laughed, her slate-colored eyes shining as they made their way out of the conference room.

---

Just as Lt. Nenyaht predicted, 2230 found Dr. Abbey Paris in the same place she had been since 1400: the flight sickbay on deck forty-seven. After meeting with Dr. Rex Jackson, the senior flight surgeon, and Dr. Amanda Mallard, the Kirk's CMO, about her residency requirements, she was given a brief break for dinner—which meant she was allowed to use the flight sickbay's replicator to grab a sandwich to eat before the first set of pilots were scheduled to arrive at 1715. There were fifteen flight surgeons for two thousand pilots and fifteen hundred maintenance personnel. Fortunately, the maintenance personnel didn't need flight physicals, and equally as fortunate, not all pilots were coming in at once. They split both the pilots and medical personnel into three groups, so for the first shift, there were five physicians to give physicals to more than six hundred fifty pilots. They quickly worked out a system, sending the pilots who had had a complete flight physical in the last three months away and having the nurses and medics screen the remaining pilots, making sure their medical records were available by the time they reached the doctors, streamlining the process for the flight surgeons.

"Congratulations, Lieutenant. You pass with flying colors," Paris informed the pilot. She gave a half-smile. "No pun intended. Next." The lieutenant hopped off the biobed, making room for the next patient.

Already resetting the bed's controls, Abbey hardly gave the tall, dark-haired ensign a glance as he sauntered over, the cocky smile she had grown to associate with pilots everywhere on his face. "Records," she demanded, holding her hand out. Her patience had run out five hours and seventy patients ago; now she was wondering why she decided to go into medicine in the first place. She just wanted to go back to her quarters and sleep until her contract on the Kirk was fulfilled.

He handed the PADD over with a smirk as she gestured for him to get on the bed. "I have specific medical settings," he informed her, watching her enter commands into the biobed controls.

"I bet you do," she muttered. His grin widened, but he didn't say anything. She gave the PADD only a cursory glance before setting it aside, reaching for her tricorder. "Any past medical problems?" she asked before frowning at her tricorder. "What the hell?"

"I'm one-quarter Betazoid," he said, barely containing the urge to chuckle. "It might help if you set your equipment to that, like I told you to."

Her cheeks flushed brightly as she reset her tricorder to the proper hybrid settings. She glanced up at him, saw the characteristic Betazoid black eyes smirking back at her. She could hear the words of one of her pediatrics attendings echoing in her head: You need to look at your patients, Abigail. A good doctor can tell more about a patient with his eyes than a bad one with his tricorder. "Let's start over," she said slowly, forcing herself not to look away from his smug face. "I'm Dr. Paris, I'll be your flight surgeon this evening."

"Ensign Andrew Riker." She groaned inwardly; not only was he a pilot, and thus already not lacking any ego, he was the pilot son two well-known former Starfleet officers, unless there happened to be multiple Riker families with Betazoid blood.

"Who is your hybridologist, and when was your last physical?" she asked, again activating her tricorder, this time properly set.

"Dr. T'Rav, and eight months ago. No abnormalities. I did have pavor nocturnus as a child, though."

"Night terrors," Paris said, nodding slightly. "Due to the increased serotonin in the pontine tegmentum of Betazoids. As long as you're not planning on taking a nap while in your flier, I don't see any problems," she said, closing the tricorder.

"My one positive heterotic trait: increased serotonin causing bad dreams," Riker joked. "I bet you know all about heterosis."

"We learned about positive, intermediate, and negative heterosis in medical school, yes," Paris said, keeping her voice even as she noted the normal exam findings on the PADD. She knew what Riker was getting at, and was choosing to ignore it. Her hybrid status had always been a point of contention for her, mostly because she was so unlike any other part-Klingon hybrid, with her blond hair, blue eyes, and short stature.

"That's not what I meant," Riker replied, his dark eyes twinkling. "Quarter Klingon, right?"

"That's none of your damned business, Ensign," she said harshly. "You've passed your physical. Leave."

He eased himself off the biobed, his eyes still on her as she reset her tricorder. "What time do you get off shift, Dr. Paris?" he asked with a playful smirk.

"Not soon enough," she muttered darkly.