Mrs. Donovan looked at the small girl who was fiercely tugging a knit cap over her nearly bald head. Her petite figure looked even tinier amidst the blankets that were swaddled around her to contain body heat.

She sat down on the bed next to the child and cupped one cool cheek with her palm. "Your hair will grow back, Christine. And this time it will look even lovelier than before."

Her gentle reassurance could not distract the child from the overwhelming shock of reality. "Why did I just get sick?" her small voice piped up. "How come I didn't die like other people?"

Mrs. Donovan could not give a practical answer for the life of her. The only consolation she could give now was to wrap a quilt around the girl's shoulders and tuck her in to make certain she was comfortable.

"You're much stronger than expected, Christine. Some people might say you were born under a lucky star."

A-A-A

Christine could feel the hot sun beating down on her head and a dull buzz in her ears. Someone was saying something but water still clogged her head and intestines. She felt a heavy weight pushing firmly into her chest and her stomach contracted painfully. It was almost like a balloon being squeezed so tight that it might explode.

And explode it did.

Lucky star

The water rushed out of Christine's lungs and spurted from her mouth in one swift rush. She fell over, coughing and chocking up every drop of water until she was left wheezing in breaths of air.

"Thank goodness you're okay!" Janice was already hugging Christine and sniffling at the same time. Someone else was there too, a young man who had just gotten a towel around Christine's shivering shoulders. "All right there, ma'am?" he asked.

"I, I feel sick," she gasped, struggling to get off the ground. Her legs wobbled uneasily, causing the man to move forward and prop up the back of her head.

"Easy there, little lady. That wave nearly knocked you out into the Pacific." Now there was no mistaking a trace of humor in the voice. She found herself starring up at blue eyes that twinkled merrily. She closed her eyes to block him out and tried to breath deeply.

"That's it. You'll be all right," he assured her.

"Jim!"

Out of the corner of her eye, Christine noticed an alluring green figure approach them, her auburn hair flapping in the breeze as she waved to them. Gaila had put on a loose-fitting cotton tunic over her bathing suit although it couldn't diminish her physical appeal.

The Orion girl rested a hand on the young man's elbow, her voice warm with concern. "Is she gonna be okay? Did a monster attck her?"

The blonde man chuckled. "No, Gaila. I rescued this mermaid from a tidal wave before her people could take her back to Atlantis."

Christine coughed twice before gaining enough air to talk. "I'm not a mermaid, mister."

"Say, you're Cadet Chapel, aren't you? I heard you're pretty smart in the Galactic Biology League." Gaila's bright eyes flickered up and down Christine before she folded her arms across her chest teasingly. "Never knew Jim had a weakness for brainiacs."

The man named Jim smirked when his attention shifted back to Christine.

She couldn't tell if that heat in her face was from blushing or the sun's rays. "Not yet," she insisted quickly. "I'll need to get passing marks for the next 18 months to get into the advanced classes."

"Then it's a good thing I was here today," Jim replied. "I wouldn't want to deprive you of that status."

"We really appreciate your help out there," Janice added. She began drying Christine's hair vigorously until her head spun dizzily. "Think you two can get a fresh bottle of water for her?"

"Sure, no problem." Jim and Gaila linked arms together and quickly ran to the closest concession stand.

Once they were out of earshot, Janice leaned over to Christine and began murmuring in a low excited voice. "That's James Tiberius Kirk," Janice whispered into her ear. "He's from a farming plant in Iowa and transferred here about two years ago. Isn't he handsome? He's absolutely scandalous," she punctuated the last word proudly.

"Rumor has it he's gone through at least half the girls in the Fleet. Well, some of them weren't really girls," she added with a smirk. "We're all crazy about him. And he teases the living daylights out of us." Janice sighed dreamily.

"Uh oh," was all Christine could muster. So that was Jim Kirk. He certainly was good-looking enough to be considered the Casanova of Starfleet.

"But he's no dummy," Janice went on. "Jim is at the top of his class in Engineering, Starship Supervision, and physical achievement. You felt his muscles, didn't you?"

"I don't know, I was half-conscious at the time," Christine bemoaned aloud. She shook her in disbelief. "It's hopeless, Janice. What kind of Starfleet nurse nearly passes out on her first shuttle ride and then practically drowns in the ocean?"

"A lucky one," Janice ranted on. "I think it's absolutely romantic that he swam in to save you from drowning. Too bad he didn't have to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation for-"

"Janice!" Christine exclaimed. "There's a code of conduct to follow and I have got to pass Advanced Biomedics next semester! What'll the other cadets say?"

"They'd say you were very lucky to be saved by a charming hero," announced Jim, who had walked back to the girls and made himself comfortable on the sand. He handed Christine a fresh bottle of drinking water. "It would be a terrible stroke of irony if you drowned right after completing your tests without even setting foot aboard a starship."

"I agree," Janice nodded eagerly. "Where's Gaila?"

"Had to go back inside. Solar energy isn't good for Orions in the long run." Jim looked at Christine and winked. "If I were you I wouldn't worry so much about the marks. McCoy is sure you'll pass."

She blinked in astonishment. "You know Dr. McCoy?"

"Sure! Bones and I go back a while. He says you're one of the best medical students in the whole academy."

The compliment sent a sudden blush through her cheeks and neck. He may seem borderline arrogant or just self confident but at least Jim Kirk wasn't above praising other people. The fact he had just saved her from the ocean caused Christine to feel at least some gratitude towards him.

"I'm starving," Jim said aloud. He eyes the bright red box that lay next to Janice. "Got any food?"

Janice in turn looked at Christine for approval. "Help yourself," she offered generously. "Janice and I packed enough for three meals." Christine opened up the self-heating container which had separate cooling compartments for cold drinks and ices.

Jim accepted a frost-beer and flipping off the lid, waved it in the air. "Cheers," he said as he sipped the frothy blue drink thoughtfully.

Christine's stomach, usually very sensitive, managed to hold down a leg of fried chicken. Maybe the sea air had woken up her appetite or it was almost dinner time. Either way, she felt hungrier than before for a long time.

While they ate and chatted, Janice had taken up her easel and was applying oil pastels to the canvas. She had a natural flair for art and Christine was fascinated how she could work so passionately on a piece, almost forgetting the world around her. Her tongue would be slightly sticking out of her mouth when she was completely engrossed in her work. If anyone dared to venture into Janice Rand's room they'd be amazed at the various cut-outs from Renaissance to Post-Modern art to Futuristic Nova designs plastered across the walls. She always had a piece of pottery or a plaster figurine drying in some corner and wore a thick smock to keep her uniforms from getting dirty.

Today Janice was vigorously adding tiny swift strokes of a brown pencil to the canvas. Christine listened attentively as Janice traded verbal blows with Jim Kirk.

"Brawn you may have Cadet Kirk but can you prove you have brains to match?" she teased.

"I know about a lot of things," Jim replied as-a-matter-of-fact. "For example, did you know that the bikini bathing suit got its name from Bikini Island during World War II?"

Janice's head jerked up from the canvas and even Christine thought it sounded far-fetched.

"It's true ladies," Jim nodded vigorously. "That part of land in the Pacific Ocean was known as the Republic of Marshall Islands. They were testing hydrogen bombs for years on Bikini Atoll. The swimsuit also had a—shall we say—'explosive' reputation on the conservative home front."

"You're pulling our leg," Christine insisted.

"I am not. Look it up in the historical archives," Jim grinned.

The day lingered on comfortably and they took advantage of the long warm afternoon hours. After the trio had eaten their fill and Janice had set aside her canvas to dry, they watched each passerby stroll up and down the boardwalk while waves make curving patterns in the sand. As the sun began to fade away, Christine noticed Jim Kirk's expression alter. He had become quieter, less playful and more contemplative. She watched him rest his head on top of folded arms and gaze out at the water looking lost in thought.

"Why did you join Starfleet?" Christine dared to ask him.

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe for my dad's memory. Maybe for myself. One way or the other, if I stayed stuck in Iowa forever I'd go mad."

"Your dad?"

"He crashed a starship into a Romulan war vessel so my mom could escape with everyone else in the emergency shuttles. She gave birth to me in space," There was a trace of tightness, or perhaps longing, in his voice when he spoke. "I never got to know him."

"I'm sorry," Christine murmured her voice soft with emotion. "I didn't know my parents very well either."

Jim's gaze shifted to her and with one hand, he lightly touched her hair. It didn't take more than a moment for him to realize what had happened to her. The gesture was benevolent, not flirtatious.

"Proxi-Atom Virus?" he asked.

"Yes."

"How old where you?"

"Five."

"Anybody else in your family?"

"No."

"Damn." Jim ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair. "And I thought my life sucked before Starfleet. Whoever thought people like us would meet at the Academy?"

"I think Starfleet is whatever you want it to be," Christine admitted slowly. "Here you have the chance to improve your life from whatever it was before. But I think you should do it for your own sake," she added with a suggestion. "Not for your father's sake. Otherwise you'll burn out."

One eyebrow crooked up in her direction."You know something? You've got a good pair of pretty lips, Ms. Chapel."

"Oh Jim, don't get started again," Janice beginning to protest.

"I mean it. Seriously." Jim got off the blanket and started dusting off the sand. "Being smart isn't just rattling off a bunch of manuals. It's about the right actions at the right time. I think you're going to do just fine here."

She smiled and looked down. "Thanks."

He turned his attention back to the frothing waters that beat at their feet. "Will you look at that," Jim declared in amazement.

"Think about it." He seemed to be speaking more to himself than the girls. "600 years ago if you said the earth was round, they'd burn you at the stake. It had to be flat as a pancake. Period. And then people faced hell trying to get across the world: storms, typhoons, diseases, pirates...but they finally made it. Discovered new countries and civilizations. There wouldn't ever be a navy without an ocean to sail across."

His voice had become serious and full of awe. Neither Christine or Janice dared to interrupt him: Jim Kirk was clearly in his element.

"And then there were lands to conquer. The Lewis and Clark Expedition. Oregon Trail. Trains and cars, airplanes and tanks. Everyone got the chance to fly. Cold War and the NASA Space Race. Contact with aliens in from other planets. World War III. What took light years to do is now possible in a few days.

Jim shook his head in amazement. "Space may be the final frontier but the sea has been, and always will be, the first one."

It was very still along the beach. All Christine could hear was the sound of her breathing, the echo of Jim's soliloquy, and the sea humming its swelling tune in her ears.

A-A-A

Three days later:

"Are you sure she's all right?" Dr. McCoy was hovering over Christine with a small tri-scanner. The tiny rotating cylinders inside beeped and flashed madly, much to her annoyance.

"Yes, doctor. I'm perfectly healthy," Christine replied for the umpteenth time. It was nice to have someone watch over you but this was getting ridiculous. After her recent clash with the Pacific Ocean, Gaila had reported to Dr. McCoy who in turn barked at Ben to get Christine into bed right away. She wasn't allowed to leave her room nearly two days despite nothing more than a minor cold.

Dr. McCoy did not think so. His "worst case scenario" instincts suspected she might have gotten salt fungus in the lungs and he was taking a private "house call" on her dormitory room.

"We can't take any chances," he said at last. "Five other cadets complained of vomiting and nausea last week."

"Where they also at the beach?" Janice inquired.

"I don't know. But we've got to stop this epidemic in its tracks."

The doctor's neurotic behavior was contagious. "Do you feel dizzy, Christine? Any fever?" Janice asked.

"I told you, I'm fine! Let me out of bed so I can-"

"Give her some tea" McCoy ordered.

"No, wait! I can get a drink on my own—"

Ben popped a spoon of hot liquid into Christine's mouth. She yelled and sprayed it out at once. "Ow! That's hot!" she cried.

He looked down at the cup that was still steaming away. "Oops. Sorry."

Dr. McCoy gathered up his equipment. "Let me know how she feels tomorrow. If there's any incease in temperature increases we'll move Christine to the hospital wing."

"Yes sir!" Ben and Janice replied in unison. With a final nod, McCoy shut his valise and left the dorm room.

"Please let me out of bed," Christine pleaded. "I've got a term paper to finish."

"Not a chance," Ben insisted. "Six more hours of bed rest to go."

She sighed in reluctance. "All right. Then would you mind going to the archive library for me? I'll put together a list of the reading materials I need."

Thankfully, they consented. Ben offered to take the list to the research room while Janice tried to coax Christine into eating more chicken soup.

Ben had hardly taken five steps outside the room when he raced back inside, slammed the door, and starred at the girls with eyes bulging in fear.

"Holy ****!"

"Language, young man," Janice scolded him. "There are ladies present."

"Hide me! Hide me!" Ben began backing away from the door. "Can't let her see me!"

"Who?"

The visitor's signal chimed outside Christine's dorm room. She pressed a finger on the screen near her bed. The smooth blue screen materialized into the face of another cadet who was standing outside just outside the door. A pretty East African female cadet, in fact. Pretty if not for her expression which screamed bloody murder. She stood on Christine's porch with her arms locked tightly over her chest and one foot tapping impatiently.

"Cadet Harrero," she replied crisply. "If you're hiding in there then I order you to come out of there at once. I order you!"

"Don't let her see me," Ben begged the girls. "She threatened to cut off my testicles and feed them to the sharks!"

"But what did you do?" Christine shot at him.

"I sort of implied a remark that could have been misinterpreted as offensive," Ben mumbled in a low breath.

"What?"

"Ben!"

"Well, she started it!" he insisted in his defense.

The continued chiming of music outside Christine's door meant the oncoming oppressor was still waiting for Ben Harrero to come out and surrender.

"Quick, hide him under the bed," Janice suggested.

"No! That's the first place everyone looks!" Christine insisted. Thinking fast, she nudged them to the bathroom. "Janice, get a shower started. Ben, can you squeeze into the earthquake closet?"

He nodded vigorously. Christine threw off the bedcovers and handed Janice a towel. Working fast, she kicked Ben's boots into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind them. Then she ran a hand through her hair, quickly adjusting the unkempt bun that sat atop her head.

Christine pressed the entrance button, allowing the door to slide open. Without even a "hello", the newcomer marched right past Christine and examined the room.

"Can I help you?" Christine asked.

The young woman whirled on her, her elegant coif of dark hair swirling around her shoulders. Christine noticed the badge on her red collar gleamed gold, not silver like hers and Janice. This must be a superior officer. If so, then Ben could be in a lot of trouble.

"Lieutenant Uhura," she replied in a crisp no-nonsense voice.

"Cadet Chapel," Christine tried to be polite. "Is there something I can do for you, lieutenant?"

Uhura's liquid brown eyes were fringed with the longest darkest eyelashes Christine had ever seen. They blazed in Christine's direction before shifting around the room. Her silver teardrop earrings glinted when she strode across the tilted floor while her boots made an audible clicking noise above the sound of water rushing from inside the bathroom.

"Someone in there?" Uhura demanded.

"Just my friend Janice," Christine said.

"Where's Cadet Harrero? I know he's a friend of yours."

Christine tried to put on her most innocent expression. "He's not in the engineering lab?" she inquired coolly.

"Don't play games with me, Chapel. " Uhura thrust one long manicured finger into Christine's face. "And don't try to hide him. I have a personal score to settle with him."

Christine had a good notion of telling this prickly-faced intruder to leave at once but her instincts suggested a different tack. She cleared her throat and prepared to address her superior officer respectfully. "May I ask what he did to upset you? I can pass on a message to him if you like."

Uhura's lips thinned irritably. "Yes, you can pass on a message to him. Tell Harrero that I resent being called 'the PMS Gestapo' and if he was expected to represent Starfleet at the upcoming Oxford Linguistic Competition then he'd be high-strung as a bouncing quadro-atom."

"Linguistic Competition?" echoed Christine.

"Only the most elite candidates from the best military schools around the world competing in xenolinguistics," replied Uhura.

"I know it's a prestigious competition that affects Starfleet's reputation," Christine acknowleged diplomatically. She knew enough about it from reading the public holo-panels in the student corridors. ""No doubt a worthwhile delegation will be attending this year."

"It will be. I'm on the team," Uhura informed her. "Cadet Harrero was expected to arrange our shuttle transportation to London and he missed the deadline."

Uhura marched right up to Christine and looked her in the eye, although she had to tilt her head up to meet Christine's face. She was an inch and a half taller than the lieutenant, much to her own surprise.

"If we do not depart from the San Francisco Terminal by eighteen hundred hours tonight-" Uhura lowered her voice, "-there will be Armageddon in Starfleet Academy."

Christine gulped. "I, I'll make sure he gets the message."

There was a clicking sound and the bathroom door opened. Janice Rand came out wearing a bathrobe and had Christine's fluffy blue towel wrapped around her hair. "Ah, nothing like a hot fresh shower," she smiled. She glanced from Christine to Uhura. "Some wrong here?"

"Aha!" Uhura swept past Janice and jumped into the bathroom. "You can't hide forever!" Hissing steam and dripping water meet her—no sign of Ben Harrero anywhere. Christine knotted her fingers together and Janice threw her a look of concern. She mouthed "closet" when Uhura's back was turned.

Dismayed at the sight of the missing male cadet, Uhura turned to the girls. Her face registered with defeat. "I apologize for my rash actions," she replied in a calmer tone. "You're obviously too smart to be harboring a fugitive."

"Obviously." Janice was shaking slightly and trying hard not to laugh. Christine could also feel the laughter bubbling up inside of her but she dared not show it in the lieutenants' face. As Uhura turned to go, Christine still tried to offer one last bit of courtesy.

"Good luck at the competition," she said with a respectful nod. "And have a safe trip to England."

"Thank you, Cadet Chapel." Uhura stepped out the door and the panel slid shut.

Janice collapsed onto the bed in relief. "Whew! That was close!"

Twenty seconds later, a dripping wet and very uncomfortable looking Ben emerged from the tiny pod closet from within the bathroom. "Boy, I owe you one, Christine."

She still felt a bit of the motherly lecturing instinct was coming on. "Did you really insult her, Ben?"

"She deserved it!" Ben insisted. He had hoped she would take his side but Christine just shook her head at him in disapproval.

"I'm not sure I'd feel the same way being in her shoes."

"So?" Ben retorted.

"So she was under a lot of pressure. People say and do terrible things when they're angry but they'll regret it later." Christine couldn't believe she was lecturing him but she pursued in defense. "I don't think the lieutenant had a right to threaten you but she was going to the Oxford Competition. That's a big deal, Ben. MIT and Kyoto compete as well so Starfleet has to make the best impression possible."

"From what I hear, xenolinguistics is one of the most challenging fields in the Academy," Janice pointed out. Christine looked grateful.

Ben, for all of his antics, looked sheepish. He sighed and ruffled his hair. "Fine. What do you want me to do about it?"

"Apologize," Christine said. "If you really say you owe me one then you'll say you're sorry."

"She'll kick me when she sees my face," Ben protested.

"Not a chance. Uhura just said they're leaving on the evening shuttle and the competition lasts four days. I'm sure she'll have plenty of time to cool down and you can say you're sorry when she's not annoyed with you."

"You sure about this, Christine?"

"Quite sure. The other kids and I always got into fights in the Sanctuary House over toys and moon crystals. Mrs. Donovan usually moved us into separate rooms so we could cool down before speaking to each other. It helped a lot."

"Is that so? I can't imagine you getting angry over something so trivial, Christine," Janice said as she patted her hair with a towel.

Christine wouldn't tell them now but her memory was sharp enough to recall a cuddly robotic kitten that could walk and speak five alien languages—and was often the source of conflict for feisty 7-year-olds claiming control over the toy.

Ben rolled off the bed and slapped his knee. "All right, I'll do it if the last thing I do and Admiral Archer ships me off to some frozen wasteland." He hesitated and looked at Christine for any further approval. "Should I send an electronic recording or on standard PADD?"

"I think a hand-written note is the most effective. It's considered old-fashioned but very courteous," she suggested. Ben shook her hands gratefully and quickly left the room. When he was gone, Janice turned to Christine with a pleased expression.

"You handled that pretty well, ya know. I would've told her to piss off."

"Well, she was going to a very important competition. I'm sure I feel the same way about the advanced class," Christine suggested. "And he shouldn't have insulted her like that."

"Are you going to give everyone like that a second chance?"

Christine shrugged and picked up her electronic notebook. A woman with Uhura's feisty attitude must be very popular, she thought to herself, perhaps with a trace of envy.

Christine often found it risky to speak up in front of her superiors. She had to coax herself out a shell and take the chance of being heard, even at the risk of getting a wrong answer or being insulted. Though the recent clash with lieutenant made her consider that someone with an outgoing attitude might be a good influence on her future.

A-A-A

Advanced Biomedics was challenging but not overwhelmingly difficult for Christine. The hardest part was getting into the classroom on the first day with ninety pairs of eyes staring at her. She was the youngest person in the classroom and most of the students were over 21.

Once she was engrossed in her studies, however, she enjoyed learning about the intricate details of humanoid surgery and specific antidotes to common diseases on heavily populated planets. She took notes, raised her hand, and often made questions that were relative to the sessions. Her teachers were impressed and on more than one occasion other cadets would ask for her assistance in study groups when the periods ended.

Three weeks after settling into course work, she tapped the visual screen that hung over the doorway of Gaila's room. The Orion girl's face appeared on the screen and promptly lit up.

"Come on in!" she chirped. The door slid open revealing Gaila in nothing but underwear. Christine's face flushed at the sight of black-and-white swirled negligee that hugged Gaila's body in all the right places but Gaila was nonchalant as ever. Females of her species didn't worry about such trivial things as modesty.

"How's advanced class working for you? Is Y'vin Noir in your studies session? I've heard he's yummy," Gaila ranted on. When Christine's disappointed face revealed neither joy or relief, Gaila's attitude changed. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

With somewhat disdain, Christine pulled out something from behind her back. Gaila shrieked at the ugly mass of fabric incrusted with peroxide paint. "Is that your uniform?" she demanded, pointing a long green finger at the ruined skirt.

"Was my uniform. Somebody spray-painted all six of them," Christine said unhappily. "I'm wearing the only clean one I've got. I came to you because Janice is busy off campus and Ben can't help me." Her voice wobbled uneasily when she spoke. What had she done to deserve this?

Gaila gingerly touched the ugly rusty-colored uniform hardened from spray paint. Then she snapped her fingers and looked up. "Beru Noir," she said abruptly.

"Who?"

"She's in advanced classes too. Tall woman, fancy red hair, wears a huge Centari Moon diamond on her right hand? That's Beru, all right."

Christine's mind filtered back to the classroom. She recalled watching the sunlight stream through the windows and a handsome girl in the front row who waved her hand not to ask questions but to let her diamond sparkle in the morning sun for everyone to notice.

"The Noir family is rich," Gaila informed her. " That's why their estate is on Centari, because the family business has done mining over the last 80 years. They've got private space yachts and aquarium pools too. Beru's cousins aren't so bad—like I said, Y'vin is great—but you can smell her stench from a mile away."

Christine sat down slowly on the bed. She had seldom attracted unwanted attention and this being her first experience, was perplexed at the malevolent gesture.

"Why would Beru Noir do this to me?"

"Weeeeelll," Gaila wound a lock of auburn hair around one finger. "Beru Noir must be trying to rub out the competition."

"By wrecking my uniforms?" Christine threw it on the floor in disdain. "How's that going to help her?"

"Maybe she thinks you'll pack your bags and head back to Minnesota," Gaila suggested.

"Oh no," Christine insisted, gaining backbone at once. "I've worked too hard this past year to give up my scholarship. And besides, a couple of Janice's art pieces are on display at the Agnes Conservatory tonight," she added. "I promised her I'd go and give a little encouragement."

"Well, you'd better watch out because those art shows can be social wars," Gaila cautioned her. "What are you wearing to the conservatory? How are you fixing your hair?"

Christine shrugged innocently. Gaila crossed her arms over her chest and examined the human girl up and down. Her lips were a bit fuller and her face less lanky than when she had first stepped onto California soil. But there was still room for improvement. That bun of messy straw-colored hair would have to go. So would the uniform. And hadn't Christine ever tried Scheherazade makeup?

"Sit right down," Gaila ordered Christine. She directed the girl to a chair near the mirrors and began fumbling in the bathroom. Seconds later, she dumped a loaded armful of various cosmetics and beauty products onto the bed. "I'm going to give you a makeover," she announced.

Christine's face registered with alarm. "You don't have to do that," she said.

"I know. That's what makes me so nice!" Gaila gushed. "Oh please, Christine. Let me fix you up for the art show tonight. Orion girls are especially good at natural beauty adornment and you deserve a little leisure after hitting the books all week."

"Well," Christine began warming up to her offer. "Okay, but so long as you don't go overboard."

"I'll behave," Gaila insisted. She ripped the black metal clasp out of Christine's hair and tossed it carelessly into the disposable bin. The yellowish hair tumbled down Christine's back in ripples when Gaila ran her fingers through it.

When Gaila bent closer to Christine she could detect different tantalizing scents from her skin; licorice and rose oil...and a sensual trace of sandalwood and musk. Christine knew a little about the pheromones laced into Orion women's skin that easily aroused men. If Gaila was aware of her natural power over people then at least she didn't rub it into Christine. Instead, she was hovering over Christine like a mother hen and clucking her tongue in disapproval.

She had sprayed Christine's hair wet and was working a thick creamy purple lotion into her hair, massaging it into her scalp. Christine closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of Gaila's fingertips pressing gently but firmly against her head in tiny spiraling strokes. "Don't use any of that Starfleet regulated soap. It's sanitary but it'll dry your skin and hair out," Gaila ordered her. "This will restore natural shine and keep your hair from looking shabby. How's that feel?"

"Good," Christine murmured somewhat sleepily. She felt drowsy but pleased while Gaila was running a comb through her hair to smooth out the lotion. "It smells like violets."

"Guess the secret ingredient."

Christine tried to think of the most ludicrous item ever. "Bull semen?"

"Heavens, no! Ground up Varasu wood. The thick bark oozes a sap rich in proteins on my planet and they use that for beauty products. Word of advice, Christine. Never put shit in your hair," Gaila lectured her. She took up a pair of laser scissors and began snipping off locks of hair. ZLIT! ZLIT! ZLIT! went the scissors.

"Wait, what are you doing?" Christine asked.

"Relax, just looping off some loose ends," Gaila assured her. While she cut Christine's hair she went on chatting. "With you in the advanced class, Beru's looking bad. She might actually have to study for her next final. My roommate would give her a knuckle sandwich if anyone painted on her uniforms. Catch her!"

Gaila stopped cutting hair and turned around to take Christine's face in her hands. She pursed up her lips and studied her face. "Mmmm, nice oval shape and big eyes. Retro hairstyles are coming back but I won't do a beehive. We'll go for something stylish yet sensible."

Christine had no objection at that point. She watched more and more purple-gluey hair fall to the ground and eventually she felt a heavy weight lifted from the back of her neck. Gaila rinsed the rest of the lotion out of Christine's hair using the water-spray until it was clean again and made her sit under the solar cap for five minutes to dry it. She used the comb to fluff up the front of Christine's hair and tease away any stray hairs.

"Okay, you can look."

Christine glanced in the mirror and when her eyes lit up, Gaila was almost envious at the sparkle in her clear blue eyes. Almost. "Oh my," was all Christine could muster.

"Do you like it?" Gaila asked.

She did like it very much. Her long stringy hair had been cropped shorter and now just came to her shoulders, the layers framing her face in an elegant bob cut. A few wispy bangs swept across her brow. The lotion must've done something because her hair glowed almost silver under the lights. "I think it's beautiful. Thank you, Gaila."

Beaming with pride, Gaila adjusted a blue headband a few inches above her forehead. "What did I say? Cute as a button."

A-A-A

The Conservatory bustled with diplomats, tourists, and elite social butterflies of San Francisco that flitted around the room and exchanged words of gossip and merriment to one another. All cadets with adequate conduct records were permitted to go so Christine spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd. And because the occasion was off campus, they were not obligated to wear their uniforms. Everyone had taken the liberty of dressing in new fresh clothes to accent their personal tastes.

The frustration over her uniforms was quickly dispatched to the back of Christine's mind. She was enjoying the fresh feeling of her new haircut and couldn't wait to show Janice. Gaila had pressed her with dozens of flashy outfits but Christine had settled on the simplest one in the pile, a pale-green tunic dress with white leggings and matching boots.

Janice saw her from across the room and waved excitedly. Christine came over and gave her a hug before holding Janice at arm's length. She looked pretty in pink; Janice wore a salmon-colored dress with a draped collar. Her hair, which often changed styles from month to month, had been parted into two spiral buns and was fastened with little pink rosebuds.

"You look wonderful," Christine admired her.

"Wow, great hairstyle!" Janice gushed. "That haircut suits you to a tee. Did Gaila do that for you?"

Christine nodded. Taking her friend by the hand, Janice showed her around to where her prized pieces were being displayed. One was a colleague of brass buttons forming an almost perfectly replica of the 1960's Sputnik satellite. Another was a panel of oil-painting depicting a flower's growth from the earth. Janice explained the materials and inspiration for each piece to guests who "oohed" and "aahed" at her talent.

Christine was admiring a twisted sculpture in one corner when she heard someone behind her. "That's a lovely tunic you're wearing," a voice murmured.

She turned around to see elegantly-dressed young man standing close by, a glass of wine in one hand and the other resting on a staircase. He had a long pale face and meloncholy expression of a character from a Shakespeare play. She suddenly felt her ankles wobble and an unexpected tingle in her hands.

"Chinatown, five credits," she blurted out. Then she blushed and brought a hand to her mouth. These weren't the type of people to discuss prices in public.

He laughed softly and took a sip of wine. "Y'vin Noir," he introduced himself. "You must be Ms. Chapel."

"How did you know that?"

"I merely asked your friend over there." He gestured to Janice who was talking to a bearded man in a blue cape. "Janice Rand gave such a glowing report that I had to come see this friend of hers who was racing to the top of the charts in school."

His compliment caused her cheeks to glow and he laughed softly. Standing aside from the noisy crowd, she found herself in deep discussion with this charming young man. Y'vin informed her of his traveling trips and listened attentively to her description of Starfleet courses. Eventually they drifted back to the gallery to survey the rest of Janice's work.

"Ms. Rand tells me you gave her some inspirations for her pieces," Y'vin commented.

"We had a Chagall replica in my old home," she explained. "I don't think Janice wanted to work with broken glass and it's difficult to cut to scale. So she opted for synthetic materials instead."

"It's not always easy to improvise as an artist," Y'vin nodded. "But the Sputnik one is especially clever."

"You think so?"

"I think," he pondered for a moment. "That you have the prettiest face in the room, Ms. Chapel. Wouldn't you agree?"

This time her cheeks turned pink and her stomach did little somersaults. She put a hand to her face to make certain she wasn't feverish. "I, I think I need to get a drink," she excused herself feebly. Y'vin nodded politely when she stepped back from him and made her way to the beverage counter.

Christine had ordered herself a lemon water and was sipping it carefully when she was aware of another person's attention fixed on her. Christine stole a quick glance at the woman's face Creamy smooth skin, flowing red hair flecked with gold highlights, almond-shaped eyes of a perfect green...yes, this had to be Beru Noir. The bottom of her ruby-red lips protruded slightly in a pouting gesture and the way she tossed her head when she talked suggested self-awareness and pride.

"Anything else for you miss?" the bartender asked her.

"No, thank you. This is fine." She dabbed her mouth with a napkin.

Right behind her, Beru brought a hand to her mouth and breathed loudly. "Ah…ah…ah-chooo!" she sneezed dramatically, making her voice loud enough for Christine to hear.

She turned around to see Beru's smirking face quickly materialize into an innocent one. But then a man at Beru's elbow brought a hand to his fist and coughed, also more for dramatic effect than medical relief. "Ach! Ach!" he went. Two more snobbish cadets began to sneeze and cough in her direction, their eyes smirking behind hands and fists.

Christine felt as though someone had pressed coals into her face. She tried to remember what Dr. McCoy had said but in the presence of these awful people, his words were muted out. She felt humiliated, absolutely sick to her stomach. Now at least a dozen of them were clustered together and continued their ridiculous pantomime.

"Achoo! Achoo!" Beru continued to fake-sneeze. She waved a hand in the air. "Goodness me, there must be an epidemic going around. I hope it's not contagious." She pronounced the last word in Christine's direction.

It was like a needle stabbing her in the heart over and over again. Thick tears of hatred and disgust swelled up in Christine's eyes but she wouldn't—she couldn't—let Beru see her break down like this. Turning on heel, she quickly moved away and strode out of the conservatory. Once she had reached the entrance steps, Christine broke out into a fierce run and let the tears run freely down her face.

As soon as Christine had left the room, Beru chuckled pleasantly to herself. "Good riddance," she murmured to her colleagues. She was about to sip her cocktail when a flash of emerald green skin jostled into her.

"Ooops!" Gaila staggered forward and her drink splashed into Beru's face. Bright red alcohol streamed down her face, melting her perfectly-painted makeup and staining Beru's once-spotless white dress. Beru's eyes went from her sopping ruined attire to Gaila, narrowing and flashing green fire with unbound fury.

"I'm so terribly sorry about that," Gaila replied in a sugary sweet voice. She backed away cautiously towards Janice.

"I know, some people can be quite inconsiderate at times," Janice added in a high strained voice. She linked her arm with Gaila and they strolled off to the next exhibit room.

A-A-A

Christine kept running down the beach, arms flaying and feet slapping against the ground. She stopped after five minutes to rip off her shoes and kept on running, now feeling her feet dig into the cool heavy sand with every step she took.

She must've run over a mile because when she was out of breath, the conservatory was no more than a tiny speck of light on the horizon behind her. Exhausted and relieved, she collapsed on the beach. There were no more tears now—she had drained them out with her fierce running—but nevertheless she wiped her wet face with the back of her hand.

She wouldn't trade places with that painted prig Beru for just five minutes.

But the insulting gesture still smarted, though.

Christine collapsed onto the sand and listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. The wind blew mercilessly through her hair.

Jim Kirk had been right. The ocean was the first unknown territory to be tamed. Before luxury yachts and cruise ships soared across the seas and long before man had gotten a rocket into space, these perilous waters were met with fear and trepidation for the few brave sailors that dared to get across the world.

She smiled ruefully at the recollection of a first year history lesson. Seamen were extremely superstitious and it was considered bad luck to bring a woman aboard a ship. Now Starfleet had men, women, and many non-humanoid candidates climbing into those starships and soaring up into the sky.

Christine realized that she disliked the feeling of fabric against her skin. On any other night she would have wanted to remain dressed but tonight the clothes seemed to restrict her body. With rather unusual zest she unbuttoned the clasps on her tunic. The cool night air tickled her skin deliciously when she pulled it off her shoulders and discarded it on the ground. No one could see her from the conservatory and the nearest house was at least half an acre up ahead. If there was ever a time to suddenly give into the urge to strip, now was the right opportunity.

She began removing the rest of her clothes; first her drawstring pants and then her bra and underwear. Christine even took off her bracelets and earrings—she wanted nothing that smacked of materialism on her body. The sight of the slender pale woman in the nude would've made male cadets hoot and cheer with delight but with no one around and not a stitch of clothing on her, the brazen silence was wonderfully free. She stood there on the beach, shivering slightly and feeling elated.

Christine strode right into the sea and plunged into the water. It was mildly warm this time—unknowing to her, some private homes up ahead had their sections of the beach heated up with underground thermal tanks so swimming wouldn't be such an unpleasant experience.

Remembering what Jim told her, she kept her head in place and began folding her arms one after another to cut through the water. When the swell of a wave rushed up and threatened to knock her out, Christine took a deep breath and plunged under the wave. She felt water rushing overhead but the terrible blast that had nearly drowned her last time did not capsize her this time.

When she resurfaced, Christine realized she was treading water in the exact same place as last time. She could still see her pile of clothes on the beach. Feeling very satisfied with herself, she began floating on her back and letting the waves bob her up and down. There'd be time enough to get back to campus that night. For now she was enjoying herself immensely.

She had tamed one small part of this vast frontier and it felt damn good.

A-A-A

An hour later:

"Where you trying to drown yourself?"Ben hollered.

"Was it something Beru said?" Janice added.

"How do you feel?" inquired Gaila.

The trio sat hunched on a bed looking at their friend. Hair sopping wet, clothes still damp on her re-dressed body, and a towel around her shoulders, Christine Chapel answered her friends with a silly grin on her face.

"No, yes, and alive. I'm going to do it again tomorrow."