McGail's conduct continued calmly and professionally as if she was reading off the morning news to her peers over breakfast.

Christine, on the other hand, could already feel her heart rate accelerating. She wondered if some anonymous engineer might miraculously transport her out of the auditorium and into the middle of the ocean. She would swim as far and fast as she could and could possibly reach the Bonin Islands by sundown.

"At approximately 0400 hours last night, Starfleet security received an anonymous transmission with evidence supporting the possibility that you hacked into private medical files without permission or consent from a superior officer."

McGail read the information off her solar screen in a monotone voice before looking across the room at Christine. "Is this true, Cadet Chapel?"

Christine realized that McGail hadn't mentioned Jim or Janice in her report. The accusation was only on her. She could take all of the blame upon herself and her friends wouldn't be accused of being in cahoots for—

Then she glanced back at Captain Pike and felt herself shrinking into her uniform. He must be so disappointed with her, especially after years of hard work and productiveness. But how could she betray them?

Christine tightened her arms to her sides and swallowed before speaking. "Yes, ma'am. It's true," she croaked. "I hacked into those files."

"Are you aware of the consequences for violating Starfleet code nine-six-three-four in regard to invasion of confidential information?" McGail questioned her.

"Y-yes, I am."

McGail leaned over her desk. "Do you have anything to say in your defense, Cadet Chapel?"

Christine kept her lips sealed while her mind raced for an explanation. Yes, she had violated a code of Starfleet conduct. But she had not caused damage to public property or threatened the safety of the staff. Her intentions were solely for the benefit of those unfortunate ill students.

She would do her uttermost to explain the delicacy of the matter. "Permission to justify my reason for being there last night?"

"Permission granted." McGail leaned back in her seat and waited for Christine to speak.

The young cadet began tugging down her short skirt in a futile attempt to cover her knees. She was forced to put her hands on her kneecaps to compensate for the lack of protection.

"For some time now I've been getting feedback from my colleagues around campus. Many students have been experiencing fever, headaches, and vomiting. People were quick to call it an 'epidemic' but judging from my medical studies, the outbreaks were too random to be considered the result of a contagious disease."

Deep brown eyes locked onto her in a steady gaze that she could not look away from. "But you did not experience these symptoms yourself, did you Cadet Chapel?" The Vulcan's tone was calm and courteous. But Christine could detect a steely tinge in the back of his throat.

"No I did not. I began conducting surveys in my free time to discover what was causing these random symptoms. When I realized I had insufficient data that's when I broke into the Starfleet medical records."

One eyebrow had lifted up dramatically as if to show disapproval in her actions. "Why did you not report this to the Health and Medical Staff?" the Vulcan demanded.

Fear had suddenly been replaced with a new emotion that gave Christine backbone: determination. She had a valid reason and chose to stick with it, being honest and diligent in her words.

"Sir, I did send several reports to the staff asking them to investigate further. They ignored them, citing cases of slight infections that often break out among students. I have record files of the reports I sent in my archives should you wish to examine them," Christine insisted firmly. "Since the superior medical officers ignored my comments, I began to research on my own based on student feedback and have been trying to come to the most likely conclusion."

"And vat is your conclusion?" Now it was LeBeau's turn to question Christine.

"My conclusion." Christine hesitated before speaking again. Certain subjects were taboo for public conversation but goodness, every Starfleet candidate—officer or cadet-should know what human instincts where whether they called it "cloud jumping" or not!

"While nearly all of the students were having these symptoms shortly after having sexual intercourse..." she paused and was silently grateful that they didn't question her words. "I don't think what is causing the outbreak is related to any sexually transmitted diseases that we aware of. It could be something much simpler such as swimming in the same pool or eating particular foods."

"My conclusion may not be completely accurate but so far, I find the guilty culprit to be a product of Casparus chocolates. The company has been selling a line of confections that suggests it 'stimulates' intercourse. They call it advertising but nearly all of the students who ate those chocolates became sick. I examined some of the products myself and are quite certain that there are traces of hazardous chemicals in the—"

LeBeau cut her off as he frowned in disapproval. "Young lady, are you telling me zat you 'ave been breaking and entering offices to find out zat our students are ill from eating sweets? Bof! Zat sounds like a fabricated excuze."

Before Christine could answer the Vulcan had another remark.

"It would explain Cadet Chapel's slight drop in academics this past quarter. Her record has been flawless until the last two months." His shift to the monitor screen must have meant his attention was directed at reading her files. "But this does not appear to be a practical alibi."

This comment sent a surge of unexpected anger through Christine's frame. Was it her fault if her less-than-perfect grades had gone down a few points to help those kids? Blood rushed into her cheeks, turning them from pale to bright pink in a matter of seconds.

"I apologize for violation of code nine-six-three-four and neglecting my studies but nobody else with authority was taking this seriously!" she nearly shouted at her accusers.

The words rushed out of her mouth so quickly that Christine was startled at the echoing effect of her words. Gathering strength from inside, she found herself rising to her feet and looking her superior officers squarely in the eye. It was terrifying to be speaking so boldly yet oddly exhilarating to release her thoughts without regret.

"There's Damianatus in the chocolates," she announced. "It's poisoning the students."

"Damianatus?" McGail glanced at the Vulcan.

"A protein herb found on Vegas Prime 7 mostly used for the cultivation of bamboo," he informed her. "While it does have aphrodisiac priorities, Damiantus can be toxic to humanoids if consumed in large amounts."

"The herb is often ground up and shipped to other planets in a digestible form: a drug. It's illegal on this continent too," Christine added. She knew she was speaking out of turn but was either too animated—or too concerned—to consider the consequences right now.

"I want nothing more than to be a qualified officer and serve aboard a suitable starship. But I must defend myself due to a lack of information and for neglecting health awareness. If Starfleet is so enthusiastic in drilling us to perform in space but neglects to address a crisis that is attacking its very students here on Earth then we seem to be missing something from our ethical code of conduct."

Christine ended her speech by sealing her lips and sitting back down in her seat.

A long moment occurred between them. Was it just her imagination or was Captain Pike trying not to smile? Yes, he was smiling from behind the mouth covering his hand. To an onlooker one might think he was merely contemplating the situation but she wondered what he found so amusing.

The Vulcan's head swerved so quickly it reminded Christine of a parrot. He murmured something to McGail and they spoke in hushed whispers before addressing Christine.

"The accusations you place before Starfleet are slightly opinionated, Cadet Chapel. But your point is logical." If there could be such a thing as approval in a Vulcan's tone, it was there in the most subtle way. "If there is indeed an internal threat to this academy than Starfleet must examine the adversity."

The Vulcan rose from his seat and clasped his hands behind his back. "With your permission Commander McGail, I will be investigating these chemicals further based on the cadet's research. Do you have sufficient data backing up your claims, Cadet Chapel?"

"Yes, sir. In my data notebook," Christine nodded. "Passcode K-3891-Gamma."

The Vulcan now addressed the Frenchman. "Chief LeBeau, it is likely that you and I will have to inspect the Casparus production plant as soon as possible. Does that satisfy you?"

LeBeau's attitude must have had quickly shifted along with the Vulcan because he said, "Of course, Monsieur Spock. I vell let ze authorities know at once."

McGail motioned to Christine. "The matter will be now taken up with the proper authorities, Cadet Chapel." She pounded the gavel twice on the table. "You are dismissed from this hearing. Please return to your classes."

"Yes, Commander."

Reeling from the sudden turn of events, Christine turned around and slowly began walking down the aisle. What on earth had just happened there? Was she off the hook yet?

Soft footsteps were approaching from behind her. She realized Captain Pike had risen from his seat and was walking towards her. "May I escort you out?" he asked. Christine nodded gratefully. The two of them left the auditorium and continued down the hallway. Only when they were safely out of earshot did Captain Pine address Christine.

"Sounds like you uncovered something pretty big that was going down," he said to Christine. "You did well out there."

"Really?" She clasped a hand to her chest. "I thought I was going to pass out."

"Most people chicken out when interrogated by Vulcans. But don't worry," Pike assured her. "I know you wouldn't do anything foolish without a valid reason."

"May I ask if you thought I had a valid reason?"

"I think you did," Pike answered. "Starfleet officers are bound to obligations but as far as medical conduct is concerned, ethics override everything else. If you can save a life then do it. Don't wait to act upon order."

"Yes sir." A thought crossed Christine's mind. "That Vulcan named Spock. Who is he?"

"One of our best officers in the fleet. Although to be politically corrected he's half-Vulcan and half-human," cautioned Pike. "Don't bring it up in Commander Spock's presence."

"Why not?"

The captain's shoulders arched up slightly. "Well, his father is Sarek, the renowned ambassador to Vulcan. And his mother is Amanda Grayson. You may have heard of the Graysons before."

Christine had heard of them before. The Wingate-Grayson Library had been established in their Sanctuary House years ago thanks to the generosity of their illustrious family. But judging from her recent encounter with the Vulcan commander, she found it difficult to believe that he was the prodigy of a human mother.

"I don't know much about society on Vulcan but I suspect, despite all their logic and proper conduct, that they don't accept half-breeds so warmly," Pike went on. "Whatever it was, Spock turned down a prestigious local academy and immigrated to Starfleet instead. And he's done wonders for us here."

Her blue eyes widened with curiosity.

"The reason I am telling you this l is because I trust your confidentiality. I don't need to warn you not to start prattling people's back stories to fellow cadets, especially with regard to Spock's delicate status," Pike cautioned her.

"Of course," Christine assured him. "It's a private and sensitive issue, I understand. But I'll try to be careful in the future."

They stopped walking when they reached the exit and Pike turned to face Christine. "That future may come sooner than you think, Ms. Chapel."

"Why's that?"

"Dr. Perry submitted a list of doctors to be working underneath him at the next Starfleet mission. He chose Dr. McCoy, who in turn selected cadets to pass his inspection before becoming registered nurses."

Pike's expression was unreadable. "Guess whose name was on his list."

Christine's jaw dropped open. "You're joking!"

"No I'm not." He broke out into a smile. "As soon as you pass your final exams you're going to be working on my starship, young lady."

A tremble of delight ran through Christine's slim frame, tingling from head to toe. For months and months she had endeavored and strived for the very best. Now the possibility of soaring into space and reaching out into that vast exterior of stars and planets could in fact become her reality.

"Is that possible?" she gasped, her emotions a mixture of shock and delight. "Isn't it considered favoritism?"

"Like I said, doctors select whomever they think are adequate candidates. But their intentions have to go by Starfleet approval so no one gets an easy pass."

"What about my trial?" Christine asked.

"That's part of the reason I was at the hearing," Pike explained. "Drs. Perry and McCoy got into a spat last week about acceptable cadets. Dr. McCoy wanted you on his staff but Dr. Perry was concerned about your drop in class marks. So Dr. McCoy stated—and may I add quite firmly—that he wasn't getting on ANY starship unless you were on it."

That was the highest compliment she could ever think of even though Christine found the scenario of Dr. McCoy fuming in his southern drawl against cool-headed Dr. Perry rather amusing. "It must've been a fierce competition," she said with a soft smile.

"It was. I just sat in on your case to ensure Dr. Perry that you weren't slacking off on purpose. And now that we have Damianatus as a prime suspect, I hope other cadets won't be getting sick and Starfleet will find out what exactly is going on in the chocolate production plant."

"I already informed Lieutenant Uhura and she's passed on the message to other cadets to stop buying the products," Christine told the captain.

"You did? That's good. Trust me. If Spock is on the case then it'll be over in 24 hours."

Pike bid her a good afternoon and left the auditorium. Christine could feel the presence of someone else lingering by and when she turned around, she saw the imposing Commander Spock studying her from the opposite end of the hallway. For a moment he looked as if he was about to say something but he did not. He merely flicked a speck of invisible dust off his uniform, turned on heel, and walked out.

Despite his flawlessly controlled conduct, Christine's inward empathy suggested emotions that he had not dared to reveal. Half-human, half-Vulcan. Measures of logic and feeling must not be easy talents to balance within one soul and she wondered how anyone could live without being able to laugh, smile, or cry freely.

He must be very lonely, she thought to herself.

A-A-A

FOUR YEARS AGO:

No sign of disapproval could be seen on Sarek's face but his wife knew by the tightness in his lips that he was less than pleased with his son's decision.

It had been three weeks after Spock had declined a position into the Vulcan Science Academy and hushed whispers were circulating unpleasant rumors about Spock's actions before the High Council. To refuse one of the finest schools on the planet was not considered downright blasphemy—Vulcans were above such petty insults—but it did leave a marring impression on those close to Sarek's family.

Spock was busying himself with the long voyage to earth by assembling his wardrobe into the compact cases that lay around the room. His excuse was the logical one, of course, pointing out a need to be diligent with timing. Inwardly it was a welcomed distraction from his father's inquiries.

"Are you certain of your decision, Spock?" Sarek kept his manner even and controlled as he spoke.

The young man looked up from a chemistry kit he had been assorting by various colors and labels. The gaze he met with his father was steady and calm. "I am certain, father. Starfleet will better serve my interests."

"Your 'interests' may satisfy your personal desire for approval. But on Vulcan your attitude has branded you as a dishonorable student." Sarek's voice hardened ever-so-slightly. "Will you continue to endure in this provoking manner on Earth?"

His cool eyes bore into Spock with such vibrancy that as before in his life, his son could not meet his gaze. He lowered his eyes and glanced at a corner of the room.

"You will not be offered the same privileges as on Vulcan," Sarek cautioned him. "As a foreigner from another planet you must prove yourself worthy to human society. Nor I nor your mother can do any more for you."

Only now did Spock begin to raise his voice in protest. "I ask for no privileges or exceptions in my academic future. If I am to be a candidate of Starfleet then I am willing to accept any consequences for my actions."

"Then your decision is final?" demanded Sarek.

Spock nodded in his father's direction. Sarek, realizing he would not influence his son's choice, whirled on heel. The edge of his robes whipped harshly at his ankles as he strode swiftly out of the room.

Amanda looked at her son and shook her head. She had learned from years of dwelling on Vulcan the value of the right word at the right time. She knew if she intervened then it would only increase the void between Spock and Sarek. Amanda would speak to them separately and with her own skills; a cool head and warm heart.

Not that Starfleet was a "revolutionary" or "fanatic" institution. A respectable military organization established by the Federation was held in high respect across the multitude of planets spanning the galaxy. The variety offered by this new social opportunity might just be the chance her son needed to progress further in life.

Amanda approached her son who was now folding his tunics into perfectly compact squares before packing them away.

"It gets cold in North America," she replied as she picked up one of his cloaks. "Make sure you dress warmly, especially at night."

"Mother I am perfectly capable of finishing up the task," he replied abruptly. "And I am certainly prepared to accept whatever responsibilities Starfleet designates to me." Spock hastily took the cloak from her and began folding it up with more speed than he usually did, a slight sign betraying his inward uncertainty.

"I know, I know," Amanda murmured softly.

Spock stopped what he was doing long enough to gaze at his mother's face. A shiny film of tears had appeared at the corners of her eyes but came no further. He recognized the emotions of sadness and laying down the cloak, took two steps closer to her. His hands gently encompassed her smaller ones as he spoke in a soft even voice.

"Forgive me if I have brought dishonor to our family," he confessed. "It was not my intention to be abrupt before the council."

"It's not that, Spock." A small smile graced Amanda's face when she quickly blinked away the tears. "I'm going to miss you while you're in Starfleet."

She reached up with one palm and ever-so-gently cupped his cheek, a thumb brushing over the smooth skin of his face from his temple to his chin. The caressing gesture caused Spock to close his eyes and lower his head to hers until their foreheads were almost touching. These few intimate moments were seldom spoken of and they had no need to be. Silence alone carried the words that Spock would not permit himself to confess to his human parent; how much love and admiration he had for his mother.

Amanda was astonished at how quickly time flew by. Once her son had been so small and sweet that she could easily bend over and gather him up in her arms. Now he towered over her at more than six feet and she always had to crane her neck up to look him in the eye. She knew he was an agile fighter from years of honing martial arts and his physical strength could overtake any foe within seconds. Yet her son withheld his power and remained gentle and demure as a kitten in her presence.

"Your father is not accustomed to such swift changes," Amanda reminded her son. "But he will understand in time."

She watched his clear brow wrinkle slightly. "Do you approve of my actions?" he asked.

"I am pleased with whatever choices please you, Spock."

"But what is your opinion on the matter, Mother? I must know."

The deep brown eyes of his mother, identical to his own, meet Spock's face. Having pushed away disconcert, Amanda's face now glowed with kindness and wisdom.

"I think it's wonderful that you want to make a life for yourself on a new planet. After all," she smiled slightly. "I did the same thing many years ago."

"Yes, yes of course you did." Spock nodded quickly. With this small reassurance from at least one of his parents he felt more certain of his decision. He was silently relieved to be leaving Vulcan. He had always managed to rise above the petty taunts and squabbles of childhood; he was not ashamed of his birthright and quite confident in his abilities to prove himself to other Vulcans.

And yet...

Somehow the flawless reputation of the Vulcan Science Academy did not seem appropriate to Spock for his academic future. His mind was thirsty for a new option that lay in the possibility of a multitude of individuals rather than the constrictions of a specific society. Starfleet just might offer him what his home planet could not. And he doubted there would be any offensive comments about his "disadvantage" on Earth.

Was he immigrating for his own sake? Or was it for the sake of his mother?

"I have read the audio tapes and examined the holograms about Earth's cultural habits and social skills," Spock spoke aloud. Amanda suspected he was assuring himself instead of her. "And as Starfleet's first Vulcan student, I intend to be as courteous as possible."

"I'm sure you will, Spock. In fact you may be considered more formal and vigorous than most people in the melting pot."

"Melting pot." Spock paused and pondered the words. "A multi-ethnic society coined in the early 20th century when massive waves of immigration flooded North America's borders."

His flawless repetition of information from the databanks caused Amanda to shake her head and smile.

"What I'm trying to say is that you can only learn so much from tapes and computers Spock. Learning about Earth and living on it are two very different experiences. People give way to anger and joy very easily. It may not be logical but it is what defines humanity and makes people unique. Special. Individual."

"It does not seem like a futile mission to me," Spock persevered. She watched him shut the valise clasp shut and with herculean effort, he raised the heavy bag above his head and easily set it in a corner of the room.

"Choosing between Starfleet Headquarters and the Vulcan Science Academy, I find the former is clearly more tolerable and logical in choice."

Amanda could hardly suppress a laugh at her son's comment. The sound of her soft chuckling echoing throughout the room and caused Spock to glance over his shoulder curiously.

"We have another expression for a situation like this on Earth," Amanda smiled. "It's called a 'no brainer'."

A-A-A

Present day:

Finals were still three months away but Christine had been jittery for the last 48 hours. She hadn't heard back from Captain Pike, Commanders McGail and Spock, or Chief LeBeau. Had they located the source of the drug? Were her friends going to be all right?

She continued to float on her back, the waves bobbing her body up and down in flowing rhythm. Christine shut her eyes and concentrated on breathing in time to the motion of water lapping against her skin. It felt calming, soothing her overwrought nerves.

She wondered what sort of a nurse she'd make. Accusations about her own performance or conduct made Christine uneasy but when face by a person in danger, she wasn't afraid to extend a hand and help that person. It was always easier focusing on someone else's crisis. And while stimulations in the lab had been messy but she was used to facing the squeamish insides of synthetic bodies and the constant bleeping of computers. The tough part was knowing if she could handle a real-life crisis.

Christine flipped over onto her stomach before breaking out into the breast-stroke. She continued to swim back to shore until the waters ran shallow enough to walk in and then she quickly dried off.

Ten minutes later the shuttle picked her up to take Christine back to the dormitory. While she sat in the small blue seat, her eyes were fixed to the plasma screen that ran quick blips of information off for passengers to watch while traveling.

"In local news, Jerome Batney and Vernon Qui were arrested by Starfleet police after violating a public health and safety code," an announcer was saying. Christine quickly leaned closer to the screen to hear the details.

"The two Casparus factory workers were discovered after mixing traces of hazardous chemicals into the production chocolate line for alien truffles. They had been distributing products to anonymous customers for months now, claiming their 'new and improved' line of cocoa products were 'love magnets'. Traces of the chemicals were found in an abandoned compound along with untraceable credit chips, allowing the possibility an illegal drug ring. Batney and Qui pleaded guilty while Starfleet continues to investigate the…"

"How about that?" the shuttle drive spoke over the roar of the engine. "What'll those jackasses think of next?"

"Who knows?" she answered nonchalantly. Inwardly she was secretly pleased and relieved at the news. So Starfleet had taken her words to heart and stopped the problem dead in its tracks. She only hoped Gaila and the others were all right.

Arriving at her dorm room, Christine was surprised to find her door did not open smoothly. Something was jamming the entrance. She pushed the panel as far to the right as possible and was astonished when a polka-dot box fell at her feet. Stepping over the box, she examined the interior of her room.

A refreshed Gaila, ecstatic Janice, and satisfied Uhura were all sitting on Christine's bed while working their way through what looked like a birthday bash. The table and chairs were covered in more boxes and bundles that ranged from rainbow-colored to glowing purple. Several larger boxes had been stacked against the door, explaining the blocked entrance.

"Don't worry. None of these have any of that aphrodisiac crap in them," Janice replied happily. She unwrapped a chocolate and popped it into her mouth. "Cheers!"

"What's going here? Gaila, are you all right?" Christine asked.

"Never felt better," the Orion girl assured her happily. She was absorbed in devouring the creamy contents of a jar and licking her fingers from time to time.

"Just so you should know, Starfleet came down hard and good on Casparus' Chocolates," Uhura said.

"I know, I saw it on the news." Christine kicked a box aside and sat down in one corner that wasn't conquered by female or confection. "So they arrested the troublemakers who put Damianatus in the candy? Did they stop the production line?"

"Yes. Thank goodness, none of the sick cadets consumed enough Damianatus to be considered fatal. The drug doses were small enough to go undetected at the chocolate plant but large enough to make everyone ill," Janice explained. "But everyone's been to the health center to get shots. The drug should drain out of the bloodstream so everyone will feel right as rain at the end of the week."

"And what about Casparus?"

"They make over 2400 products that get shipped to other countries and planets. The truffle line was the only one with this problem and those two goons the only ones stupid enough to try the plan," Uhura added. She waved a hand around the room. "And that's where all of this came from."

Christine gaped in bewilderment. Noticing her friend's shocked face, Uhura withdrew a card that lay under a stack of Toffee Crunch Surprise and handed it to Christine. She opened it up and found a brief but cordial letter.

"Please enjoy the enclosed complimentary chocolates and sweets and accept them along with our gratitude," Christine read aloud. "Sincerely, Armand Zen, president of the Casparus Chocolate Company."

She threw up her hands in disbelief. "This isn't a 'complimentary' gift. This is half a candy shop!"

"I know," Janice beamed. "Isn't it great?"

Christine turned in a full circle to examine the sheer amounts of decadence and ecatacy that surrounded them. "What are we going to do with all of this stuff?"

"You can forget bringing it aboard a starship," Uhura replied. "Standard rules still apply."

"I guess we're just going have to help Christine dispose of it all," Gaila smirked. "Isn't that what friends are for?"

A-A-A

A lively candy party, followed by a night outing at the White Lotus, made it an unforgettable night for Christine. She returned feeling giggly, giddy, and very amused after several jokes and songs while they went up and down the streets of San Francisco.

The next day she was still recovering from having one-too many chai crèmes when an announcement was heard over the speakerphone.

"ALL CADETS REPORT TO THE MAIN AUDITORIUM IN TEN MINUTES!"

For a moment Christine wondered if this had anything to do with her recent trial.

It did not.

But as fate would have it, as she zipped up her skirt and raced across the lawn to the auditorium, Christine Chapel had no idea how the recent events of a Starfleet trial and a madman hovering miles away in his space ship would have any significant effect upon her outcome.

Her life was about to change forever.

She was in the back of the auditorium again. And while she wasn't one on trial and sat there anonymously amidst a sea of red uniforms, Christine's heart went out to Jim Kirk. She felt it aching within as he stood on the podium and had to address the 400 cadets and a clique of judges who made her own trail seem miniscule in comparison.

He had cheated on a strategist test. The accusations against him were high.

Oh Jim, Christine thought unhappily. I thought you were better than that. How could you do such a foolish and wreckless thing?

His answer caused her opinion to halt, if not sway slightly in his favor. In a calm firm voice, Cadet Kirk addressed his jury. "The test itself is a cheat, isn't it? I realized that after I failed it the second time. It's programmed to be unwinnable. There's no way of saving the Kobiyashi Maru starship so the only way to win is to alter the parameters."

There was not a trace of smugness or defiance in his voice, only the truth. Now that Christine thought about it, he did have a valid point. If you were too lazy to find the solution to a test then cheating was considered immoral and dishonest. But creating a solution where none existed...now that was a creative tactic. One might even call it borderline genius.

However, Kirk's accuser did not share in his theory. From the next podium over, Commander Spock stood indifferent and collected. Well, this should be interesting, she mused.

Christine wondered how the fearless cadet would react in the face of the Vulcan officer, who happened to be the program designer to the Kobiyashi Maru.

"Your argument precludes the possibility of a no-win scenario," Spock replied.

"I don't believe in no-win scenarios," the cadet shot back.

Spock must've noticed his opponent's weakness because he accused—in the same monotone voice but nevertheless accused—Jim Kirk of lacking in priorities. "Then not only have you violated the rules, you have failed to understand the lesson."

"Please, enlighten me." Jim Kirk's sarcasm was not lost on Christine's ears.

"A captain cannot cheat death." Spock almost looked smug, as if a Vulcan could take pride in denouncing a human's flawed theory. He went on to explain how a captain's obligation was to face the outcome, not to alter the scenario, and he must accept fear in the face of that deadly outcome. At one point in Commander Spock's speech, Christine recognized a comment in regard to Kirk's background and the fatal loss of the U.S.S. Kelvin.

Jim had to compose himself for a moment before speaking to Spock. Christine's palms grew sweaty.

His father died on a starship to save hundreds of other lives, including his son. You can't expect Kirk to accept that, she thought. Can't you understand that? Don't you know what is it to lose a member of your family?

The meeting was cut short by a message brought to the jury's attention. And when a council member spoke, he had no idea how much the eight words he spoke wre going to have an effect on every single person in the room-including Christine.

"We have received a distress call from Vulcan."

A roar of murmurs rose up from the cadets.

"This is a Red-Alert. All officers are to report to duty stations. This is not a drill—I repeat, this is not a drill. This hearing is at recess until further notices. Assembly dismissed and attendees to report to your stations."

Christine's duty station had been assigned to her during a practiced emergency drill last semester. Dock 15, Row E. She had it drummed into her head in case of an emergency—and this was an emergency.

The auditorium of a lesser-known organization would've been emptied in a messy and disorderly manner. But years of perfecting conduct under Starfleet supervision meant Christine was able to line up among the other cadets in single file and exit in a timely fashion. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jim still at the podium, this time whispering to Dr. McCoy, and felt sorry for him. He had constantly expressed his wish to work aboard a starship and now he might never get that opportunity.

Fate continued to stream the lines of people's futures and obligations with one another like a thread stitching the tapestry of density together.

A-A-A

Fifteen minutes later:

The dock was a blur of aircrafts, shuttles, gray and red uniforms. Christine swiped her identification card through the entrance and stood in line near her designated row. Within seconds a squad of 40 cadets surrounded her. An officer in a gray cap stood on a crate in front of the cadets with a PADD to his chest.

"When I call your name, you will step forward and board the scheduled shuttle that will take you to your designated starship. You will disembark and report to your commanding officer."

That was it? Just hear your name and pop and go? No test, no other rules?

The officer looked down at his PADD and began to read off names in a firm clear voice.

"Jentha—Endeavor. Rapipo—Symphony 8. Wu-Vocation. Radowski-Escapade."

One by one, Christine watched red uniforms turn on heel and leave the group before walking to their shuttles. She wondered why they hadn't gone back to alphabetization for last names. Perhaps it was more complicated with alien names and random callings were-

"Harrero—Independent."

Benjamin's beaming face could be spotted from the other end of the dock. He passed by Christine with the biggest smile of joy on his face and reached out an arm to pull her into a quick half-hug before running off to his shuttle. She lifted a hand and waved her fingertips in his direction, even thought he wasn't looking back.

Goodbye, my friend. See you in space.

"Bagua—Ocean Bay. V'spen—Entrepid. Rosenthal—Valor Yor."

Three more cadets left the group and walked away. There were still plenty of cadets waiting not-so-patiently for their names to be called. When the officer looked up from his PADD and announced Christine's name and starship aloud, she felt it echo deeply from within her soul.

"Chapel—Enterprise!"

No less than eight heads turned in her direction when the officer's words rang in her ears.

"Enterprise, that's the one..."

"Yes, that's it!"

"How'd she get aboard?" one of them whispered to her left.

Christine felt as if her feet were moving of their own accord when she moved away from the group and towards the shuttle designated to take her to the Enterprise. She was only halfway there when she approached another officer working at the controls of a craft carrier. The woman looked up from her work to address Christine. "Is something wrong, cadet?"

"Ma'am, I'm not a registered medical officer yet. I can't exactly serve aboard a starship," Christine explained. "I still have to take my finals for—"

"Cadet, we are operating under code red regulations which means all available hands are to report for duty—certified officers or not. You have five minutes to board your shuttle." The woman shut off her brief message before moving Christine aside abruptly so she could address the next group of cadets.

Christine's feet, once heavy with uncertainty, felt lighter than air. Even in a code red situation, the assurance that her future had not been sealed ominously was a welcomed relief.

"Christine! Christine!" Janice was running towards her and waving her arms madly. She came to a screeching stop in front of Christine and gasped for breath. "Do you know where you're going?"

Christine gripped her friend by the hand gratefully. "I'm on the Enterprise. Is that good?"

"Good? It's very good! Ben's on the Independent, not a bad one either," Janice ranted. She thrust a drawstring bag into Christine's hands. "Sentimental stuff for the trip. Now hurry up, you've got a shuttle to catch."

"What about you? Aren't you coming?" Christine asked.

"Nuh-huh. I've got to stay on the ground for operations," Janice insisted with a shake of her head.

"But-" Christine felt a lurch of disappointment inside. She wished her friend was coming with her; it would make the quick transition a much easier one with Janice's optimism and liveliness nearby.

Janice just threw her arms around Christine's neck and hugged her tightly. Christine felt her insides squeeze up as well when she put her arms around Janice and hugged her back. "Good luck Janice," she whispered into her friend's ear.

Janice broke off the hug and grinned at Christine. "Don't worry," she added cheerfully. "We'll see each other soon."

"Boarding shuttle craft A017, stand by!" an officer yelled.

With a last encouraging nod, the girls parted.

Christine's feet nimbly skipped up the shiny steps and into the shuttle. She had been on one of these before a long time ago and knew what to do. She snapped the belt across her waist and secured it tightly. This time she flexed her arms over her head and concentrated on the breathing patterns they went over in stimulation tests to avoid nausea during flight takeoff.

Her efforts had paid off. The shuttle rose smoothly from the ground and glided through the open dock doors before climbing effortlessly into the sky. Not in the least bit dizzy, but rather tingled with excitement, Christine rested a hand on the window and looked out. The sky was fading from blue to indigo in minutes. In just a short period of time they'd be in deep black space, far away from their beloved planet Earth.

"Some ride, huh?"

She noticed her passerby in the next chair was none other than the young man who had carried her uniforms for her some time ago.

"Yeah," she nodded, not knowing what to say. "I've actually never been on board a starship before," she admitted.

She was surprised when he exhibited friendliness, not disdain at her lack of experience. "First time for everything," he replied cheerfully and then extended a hand. "Helmsman Hikaru Sulu. I'll be piloting the Enterprise."

"Christine Chapel, medical officer."

By now the sky had faded to black and Christine could see dots of stars glittering around the cosmos. Earth was no more than a blue ball swirled with white froth and speckled with green and brown land marks. Had they really just been down there an hour ago?

"Would you look at that," Sulur murmured. The space dock was coming into view, a giant silvery web with protruding arms, each one sporting a starship at the ends. Shuttles were zipping around the huge dock like children around a playground, fast and eager to get wherever they wanted to go.

As they drew closer to the landing entrance, the shuttle glided over the designated ship they were expected to work on. Christine could read the words on the front of the starship in enormous clear black letters that spelled out U.S.S. Enterprise.

It was a beautiful ship. The titanium cover was spotless while the sleek design of the ship meant efficiency but it also represented elegance and taste. It struck Christine how a starship was not unlike a work of art, a masterpiece to be cherished and admired by others.

She was somehow relieved that she never knew what an honor it was to serve on such an illustrious starship. It humbled her immensely.

The shuttle came to a shivering stop inside the space dock. "Please exit the craft and take all belongings with you," a voice bleeped. Cadets began unbuckling themselves and climbing out of their seats.

"D'you know where the medical bay is?" Sulu asked her.

Christine glanced around at the other cadets moving rapidly into various loading pods and shook her head.

"No worries. It's usually on a lower deck." Sulu tapped a plasma panel that was on the wall and nodded to her. "Yes, it's deck G4. You just take the loading pod down there and it'll show you where to go."

"Thank you, Mr. Sulu."

"My pleasure, Ms. Chapel."

A-A-A

She had gotten lost once but another office had been gracious enough to show Christine to the small yet efficient sleeping quarters. There on the bed lay a medical uniform along with a new pair of boots. She had changed into it within the twinkling of an eye and couldn't resist turning around to see how the uniform looked on her in the mirror.

The uniform dress fit her like a second skin, the synthetic fabric hugging her body comfortably. It was made of a durable material designed to withstand intense heat and absorb human sweat. Christine wondered how well it got blood stains out. She smoothed the front of her dress and adjusted the blue headband.

Christine set her drawstring pouch under a pillow to hide it from prowling eyes before she exited the sleeping quarters.

Once in the medical bay she was approached by an unlikely figure.

"You there!" came the firm commanding voice of Dr. Perry. The heavyset man was waving a pen light in the air and instructing crew members in blue uniforms around the medical bay. Not even bothering to call her by name, he strode up to Christine.

She took the liberty of acknowledging herself. "Christine Chapel, reporting for duty."

"Have you seen Dr. McCoy?" he asked.

"No sir. But I'm eager to get started. What do you need help with?"

Her eagerness and spirit seemed to surprise him but he was impressed with her efficiency. "Well, you can make yourself useful disinfecting our laser drivers and getting them into order. After that, I want all antibiotics removed from the cylinder containers and placed into those shelves." He pointed to a wide tray on one end of the medical bay.

"Yes sir." Whirling on heel, she quickly opened up the drivers and began running them through the disinfecting basin. It was amazing how all of the training she had done in Starfleet Academy was coming back to her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Christine finally spotted Dr. McCoy entering the medical bay. Everyone else was busy buzzing around or listening to Dr. Perry but Christine couldn't stop starring at McCoy. He must have just disembarked his shuttle because the doctor was still wearing his red cadet uniform.

Why he was lugging Jim Kirk alongside was beyond her. Jim's face was sickly green and he was sweating profusely. One of his arms was draped over Dr. McCoy's shoulders while the other hung limp by his side. She opened her mouth as if to call to Dr. Perry but then thought better of it. Better let McCoy handle this one, she thought as she continued to line up the antibiotics.

When Christine had finished the task at hand she went back to looking for Dr. McCoy. He must've not wanted to be seen because he had Jim Kirk lying flat on his back at the end of the sick bay where few people could pay attention to them.

McCoy realized he was being watched and rushed over to Christine, his eyes a mixture of alarm and urgency.

"What's going on here?" Christine asked.

To her surprise he took Christine by both arms and pulled her into the corner. "Listen to me. He's not supposed to be here."

"Jim Kirk? Why?"

It took McCoy a matter of seconds to explain to Christine what he had done: injected Jim Kirk with a vaccine before taking him aboard the Enterprise as a stowaway.

"A Mevarian mud flea virus?" Christine couldn't believe her ears. She knew Dr. McCoy had some radical ideas but this was insane.

"Shhh!" he hushed her fiercely. "D'you want Perry to find out? Listen, I just gave Jim an anesthetic and he's fast asleep."

"Doctor, this is—this is highly irregular," Christine sputtered. "You could both be in a lot of trouble for bringing him aboard without permission."

"Yeah, I know." McCoy at least had the decency to look sheepish. "But there was no way Starfleet would let him aboard any ship after that hearing. I couldn't just leave him on the ground looking all miserable and pathetic. This is all he's ever wanted ever since he got to Starfleet. Do you have any idea how badly Jim's wanted to serve aboard a starship?"

Christine could guess.

"You don't have to conspire in this with me. But I'm asking you—no, I'm begging you not to report this to Dr. Perry or the captain."

"What's he going to do aboard the Enteprise anyhow?" Christine wanted to know.

"Oh, if he's Jim Kirk then he'll find something useful to do," McCoy added with a grim nod. "Listen, Ms. Chapel. You were at that hearing. Now Jim's been my friend for three years now and I know he can be narcissistic, arrogant, and downright cocky. But he's damn smart at what he does. If he can beat a no-win test then he's bound to do some good aboard the Enterprise."

She felt herself warming up to the doctor's words but kept her hands on her hips in concern.

"I trusted you, Dr. McCoy. That's why I wanted to work on a starship with you," she said at last.

McCoy sighed and nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry if I betrayed your trust."

"You haven't," Christine assured him. "I'm not going to report you."

McCoy couldn't believe his ears. "What?"

"You're the only reason I'm aboard this starship after all," Christine admitted gently. "And Jim Kirk saved my life last year. So if I tried advancing myself by ratting on you both then I'd defeat the purpose of my existence here. And besides," she added feeling rather empathetic. "I know what it's like to be accused unfairly."

McCoy's face didn't exactly show sunbeams but it came close.

"You're a saint, Christine."

The compliment, along with the tone in which he said her first name, was the best one she had ever gotten yet in her life.

"Now listen to me. Jim should stay knocked out for another hour or so. If he wakes up again, give him this." McCoy slapped a small metal cylinder into her palm. "If we are found out, I won't drag you down with me. I'll take full responsibilities for Kirk's presence aboard the Enterprise."

"If he keeps sleeping like this then we won't have to worry." She glanced back at the cadet who was lost in slumberland.

"In the meantime, I'd better get back to work before Dr. Perry has my ass. Can you take care of this?" McCoy handed Christine a thin rigid sheet of plastic and an electronic pen.

"What is it?"

"Standard Starfleet protocol. Captain has to sign the contract saying medical officers are qualified and he won't interfere with our judgment or work," McCoy explained. "Basically it gives us consent to do our job."

"Sounds fair enough." Christine took the contact and pen from Dr. McCoy. She was about to head for the bridge when he stopped her short.

"Just one more thing," he informed her. "Under red alert conditions, Starfleet cadets can be advanced to suitable positions so they can operate with proper authority. I know you're concerned about not taking your finals yet. But after I heard about your involvement in stopping the Damianatus crisis on campus, there's no doubt in my mind that you were right to be aboard the Enterprise."

"Doctor?" Christine wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"I'm promoting you to a 100% qualified Starfleet nurse with all medical permissions approved," McCoy announced. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Now get to the bridge, Nurse Chapel."

"Yes, sir."

Christine walked off hugging the PADD to her chest and hearing a symphony of music in her head. She was now Nurse Christine Chapel, a qualified Starfleet officer, reporting for duty aboard the maiden voyage of the starship Enterprise.

It sounded just right.