((ADDENDUM: I changed the last name of the CMO of the space station to Rasul. I don't normally do that, never have before, but in this case I had a good enough reason to do it.

Star Trek is kind enough to use metric, so I'll do that, too. Phew.

On a more worrying note (for me, that is), given the way I split my group, I had to do something I managed to avoid throughout Air. Oh brother. I tried to do something there, but I wouldn't bet my head that I was able to pull it off without a slip. I'll check while proofreading again, but it's something quite minor I'd only notice in someone else's text.

And again, I couldn't come up with a chapter heading, so I took one that makes sense if you think around seven corners. Trust me, a year from now even I won't get it any more. Anyway, I quote one W.H. Auden, or rather the music by the wonderful, brilliant, highly underrated Benjamin Britten, more precisely the Hymn to Santa Cecilia.))

The three people greeting the new arrivals at the Cristóbal de Morales space station were all rather tall, but the Commodore towered over the other two by half a head still. Apart from Jim and his people, two Caitians had come here. They looked so much alike he wondered if they were brothers. They both had jet black fur with white markings that were more pronounced in one of them and were within an inch of each other's height. 'Welcome,' Commodore Bligh said in a deep, carrying voice. With greying hair, crow's eyes, and a friendly look on his face, his appearance was impressive without being intimidating. 'I am Victor Bligh. Let me introduce you to your tutors.' He indicated the man on his left. 'Our CMO, Commander Doctor Mamad Rasul. A few words from you?' Rasul stepped forward. He was shorter than Bligh but not by more than five centimetres. In addition to his height, Rasul had twice Bligh's girth. He gave them fierce looks, but then his round face broke into a grin that belied his attempt at grimness.

'So I hear I get a legend and a Vulcan. Doctor McCoy, I wonder which of us will be the teacher here. T'Kray … Not many Vulcans that choose to leave their homes for good. Given your people's love for science you're fairly earthbound. Or vulcanbound, if you will.' T'Kray did Rasul the favour to offer a small smile.

'You will find that I see many things differently.'

'McCoy, what are you even doing here? Why not jump right back into a starship?' McCoy shrugged.

'I never cared for technology. I still don't, but if I want to work again, I need to catch up.'

'So you know what it is you avoid using whenever you can. Don't get me wrong I'm with you there. Know thy enemy.' He gave a dismissive gesture. 'There'll be time enough for chit-chat later. I'll see you in my sickbay.' Commodore Bligh gestured towards the woman to his right.

'Commander Irina Melczuk, head of engineering.' Melczuk had watched Rasul throughout his speech, her expression distant and a little wary. Now she pursed her lips and stepped forward.

Jim swallowed. She was tall, taller than him with her high heels. Regulations, he started to think, were obviously not Bligh's primary concern. Even though she was not standard pretty, there was a certain elegance about her, including everything from the contrast between her light complexion and her almost black hair to the way she held herself. When she spoke, he noticed a very slight accent to her low, deep timbre. His first thought about her, however, was that he was very sure he didn't want to get on the wrong side of her.

'Captain Kirk and Vral from Cait, I am told. You'll have an interesting time, that's certain. It won't be easy. You'll have to be good to survive training in my department. Being famous – or infamous – will not help you.' Rasul had taken his turn to watch Melczuk. When she was done he shook his head minutely. Bligh grinned.

'Which leaves me and my two charges. Lieutenant Spock, I could repeat Mamad's question to Doctor McCoy, but I'll refrain. Kresar … this is the first time we have Caitians here. The time ahead of us will truly be interesting, as Irina said.

'Over the years we have made the experience that a mixture of practical and theoretical work is the most effective. You will spend every second and fourth day on the planet taking lectures, the rest you are up here. Since we're a part of the academy, days six and seven are free as long as you are considered students. I recommend using them for studying, at least in part. But you are not adolescents, so I trust you to know what is best.

'Your personal effects have been brought to your rooms. On the desk behind me, you will find maps. I am not going to give adults a tour, you can do that yourselves. It isn't as difficult as one might think at first. You will get yourselves situated, then we'll expect you in our respective departments. Until then.'

ϡ

Leonard had greeted the information that his things had been brought to his room with some scepticism. They had been informed how much they could store in their rooms, and that was little, but still … Something always got lost. However, the package he had prepared satsafely beside the bed, obviously untouched. There was a desk with a portfolio that seemed to be perfect for the map. On the bed lay a uniform, a black pair of trousers and a blue man's-shirt. The shirt had a stiff collar and on it two white insignia. Nowadays' uniforms had golden insignia and they certainly didn't have shirts like that. The message was clear: In theory, he had the rank of a lieutenant. But in fact, he was pretty much a civilian who was allowed to play officer.

Taking a look at the map, Leonard's heart sank. He had an excellent memory and a good sense of direction, even if space sometimes messed with the latter. He assumed someone had attached a camera to a cat and made it run up and down through the space station until it had the entire place covered. Then the cat owner must have sat down and used the footage the cat had acquired, including air vents and what not. Making up his mind to start off in the general direction he suspected the sickbay to be in, Leonard left his room with a scowl, the map held at eye level and his face practically buried in it.

'Watch out before you take someone's eyes out.' A hand drifted into his field of vision and pushed down the map. 'Whoa. I didn't mean to make you angry.' Leonard shook himself.

'No, T'Kray, it wasn't that.' He managed a half smile. 'I just … This place … That map.' He faltered. The Vulcan placed a hand on his arm.

'Leonard … what are you doing?' He opened his mouth to answer, but she continued before he had a chance. 'You're worrying yourself into a frenzy. You cannot function like that. The map is bad, I'll give you that. But what you need is on it, and the rest is up there in your head.' Leonard glared at the map and held it against the wall with his left hand. With his right, he indicated where they had to go.

'Right. So I'd say we follow this corridor until the end, go through the door to the left. That corridor we follow past the first three doors … no, that's a bleeding air vent … don't comment on that, please … anyway, past the first two doors. Then we go through the next one, there. And that's … well, then through here and we should be there.' T'Kray had stepped behind him and looked over Leonard's shoulder.

'What was that you were nervous about?' He could hear her smile in her tone and turned, folding the map in all the wrong places and stuffing it into the portfolio.

'I'll tell you that when I see where we end up.'

'In the sickbay. Trust me.' A smile tugged at Leonard's lips. T'Kray extended the index and middle finger of her right hand to Leonard. He smiled more widely and touched his respective fingers against hers. They had done this a few times, and by now he didn't have to brace himself before the whisper of her mind in his. Come to think of it, he started to relish it. When the contact broke, he felt slightly dazed. T'Kray tugged at his sleeve. 'Come on, Len. Let's go.'

In the sickbay, Doctor Rasul was busy scanning a young man. 'Well, you are fit for duty again. You may go.' He turned to the two arrivals. 'So you've found your way, congratulations. T'Kray … I never knew there even were Vulcan psychologists. Your people doesn't appear to need them.'

'They don't, but I never intended to stay there. I wanted to go into space from the beginning. I figured there is much room for a psychologist there.'

'Indeed, although many medical doctors in Starfleet had profound knowledge in that area when you were a student, and some still do. Doctor McCoy is but one example. Space psychology is one of his specialities.' T'Kray raised an eyebrow at Leonard. He huffed.

'Well, they keep saying that. But it doesn't make me a psychologist. It's like saying, hey, he recognises a paramecium when he sees it, he must be a biologist. There are overlaps is all.' Rasul folded his arms.

'And you, Doctor, why are you here? I have your files, you know, and yours shocked me a little. Transporter phobia, aerophobia, and suspected thanatophobia in general, it says there. There is also a note from when you left for the first five year mission, they thought you'd be back within a year.' Leonard had flushed crimson. He glared pointedly at Rasul, refusing to look down or away. 'T'Kray, what do you make of such information? What would you recommend a cadet with that on his back when he says he wants to go into space?' T'Kray's tone was that of a professional and very Vulcan.

'I would not presume to give advice based on a file. I would talk to the cadet. And in Doctor McCoy's case, it would not take me more than ten minutes to figure out that he has it in him to do whatever he chooses. He is determined to the point of stubbornness, and that is actually a good thing in a CMO. In addition, it is what it takes to overcome fear. None of these things say anything about a man's character. Doctor McCoy is a very brave man. I saw that first hand, more than once.' When she continued, her face and tone remained impassive, but her eyes, fixed on Leonard now, were smiling. 'This only makes you more so. You faced what you fear and you conquered. Very impressive, especially for a human.' Rasul snorted.

'A very good answer, I must say. T'Kray, you will have a little chat with every officer from Lieutenant upwards, including McCoy. The medical records are available to both of you. I want you to find out if they're overworked, unhappy about life in general, if there's inexplicable aggression, suppressed stuff, anything odd and out of the ordinary on a well manned space station. McCoy, you will take blood samples of the same people and check them thoroughly. And I want you to do that with our modern equipment as well as your common sense and anything you can dream up. You're known to be creative, and I want you to demonstrate that.' Leonard traded a short glance with T'Kray, and Rasul grinned at them. 'Yes, there is a reason why I want you to do this. But the good thing is that you aren't biased, you cannot make assumptions. So just do as I ask, and tell me what you find out. When you're done, I'll tell you what I think.'

ϡ

When Jim reached the engineering section, he found Vral already there, looking slightly out of place. 'Commander Melczuk anywhere?' Vral's left ear twitched.

'I haven't seen her.' Jim smirked.

'That sounds like you don't much care to see her.' When the Caitian didn't answer, Jim laughed. 'I'm not sure I like her either.' Vral came closer and spoke in almost a whisper.

'She looks dangerous.' Jim shrugged.

'She looks wary. That's often reasonable.' As if on cue, the door opened to reveal Irina Melczuk. Without a word, she approached her two students.

'I am not at all certain that I want you messing with my machinery here,' she told them lightly. 'If I'd had my way, you would be on the planet for a month before you touch anything. However, the Commodore doesn't agree.' She folded her arms. 'So here it is. The transporter here hasn't been working lately. The computer scan cannot find anything, so I want you two to look into it. Find what's wrong. Don't repair anything, check with me first. Do you understand?'

'Affirmative,' Kirk said automatically. Melczuk's eyes narrowed.

'Good. Then keep listening. Engineering in the Cristóbal de Morales space station means many things. It means engineering as you understand it, but it also includes maintenance of ships that come here, it means maintenance on Mavenow, and it means safety checks on the shuttles. Now there's a second problem. We have a number of shuttles. Two of them are dead. As with the transporter, the computer systems find nothing wrong with them.'

'May I ask a question?'

'Ask, Kirk.'

'How long since the problem was noticed?'

'A week. And the shuttles went first, the transporter followed. The one in engineering is the only one that malfunctions.' Jim swallowed, a horrible, almost suppressed memory coming back to him.

'Malfunctions how?'

'Badly, Captain. Believe me when I tell you that you wouldn't want a precise description.' She took a deep breath. When she continued, her entire demeanour had changed, the undertone of anger gone. 'Take a look at these things and document anything you find, even if it seems unimportant. Anything that isn't ordinary. Tomorrow, you will have lectures on Mavenow, the day after you continue. If you have any questions, try consulting the computer first. I believe learning by yourselves is best. If that does not help for whatever reasons, don't hesitate to come to me.'

ϡ

If the map was accurate, the science station was huge. Granted, a certain size was to be expected. Mavenow, according to the Federation database, had little animal life but excellent conditions for plants – almost all plants, in fact. The planet had everything from ice plains, perfect for hiemifoils, to deserts that provided the ideal conditions for lahv-mor, which humanity, in a fit of typical inaccuracy, had translated into flos linguiformis. At least the trivial name they had come up with was better: Tongue leaf was the correct translation for the greyish plant that was many things, but certainly not a flower. It was very similar to Earth's ferns, including the fact that it did not even have flowers but alternating generations.

The first room in the science department contained computers, microscopes, and various other instruments for more or less automated methods of study. At one of these computers sat Kresar, deep enough in concentration not to react to the door opening and closing. Commodore Bligh did not appear to be present, so Spock headed to the open door on the other end of the room. It led into a greenhouse that must take up about fifty percent of the science department. It explained the extent of the section.

Spock stepped into the greenhouse and took a moment to let the impression sink in. There were huge slabs that could be shifted on tracks of metal so every slab was easily accessible. They were filled with potted plants of all shapes and colours. On two large tables – smaller than the slabs but still impressive – there were fifty-two plants each. For some unknown reason, the two tables held specimens of the same plants. Spock knelt to get a closer look at one of them when he heard the swish of the entrance to the science department. Straightening himself, he returned to the first room and stood with his hands folded behind his back, looking at the approaching Commodore and waiting for an instruction.

'You found my little kingdom. Excellent.' He smiled. Kresar now stood beside his chair, looking at Commodore Bligh with obvious anticipation. 'Now here's the thing. I have your results of the first evaluation, but as a scientist, I like to see things for myself. I want to watch you work. Did you take a look at the greenhouse, too, Kresar?'

'I looked, but I didn't enter. I thought you might not want anyone in there.' If this were Jim and not the Commodore, Spock would have informed Kresar that leaving the door open was usually not a sign it was forbidden to enter. Bligh, however, was an unknown quantity, so he remained silent. The Commodore did not appear to be the type to tell someone to be quiet because they spoke unbidden, but he was not going to test that theory on the first day. Bligh waved Kresar away.

'I'd have locked the door then. Well, go now. Anything you notice?' After Kresar had looked at the two tables for a while, he gave the Caitian equivalent to a shrug: a twitch of his ears. Spock decided to answer.

'The tables hold the same plants, each fifty-two different ones. Very different. None of them are related, as far as I can see.'

'All correct. Are you familiar with any of them?' Spock walked around the table, inspecting the various specimens. He knew none of them. Some appeared vaguely familiar, but there was nothing he could name.

'Negative.' Kresar looked at one particular plant.

'I do. This is an Indian fig.' Spock looked at the corresponding plant on his table.

'Negative. It resembles the opuntia humifusa at first glance, but it is something entirely different, probably not even the same order. It smells like rosa centifolia flowers, but the shape of the flower suggests it is a member of the composite family.' He picked up the pot and raised it to eye level. 'The leaves are thick and firm, and I assume they store water like those of succulent plants. I would, in fact, be at a loss if I had to tell you what this is. Obviously an angiosperm. Probably a eudicot. Something similar to asterids. I am, of course, guessing.' Bligh looked impressed.

'Well, I thought Vulcans prefer not to answer by guessing, but I can see where you come from. Verify this. None of these plants are classified or even described. They are all native to Mavenow and have been discovered only recently. I want each of you to work alone. Only when you are finished we will all three compare your results. I am very curious what we'll find out.'

((My source for the bits of Vulcan I use (the fern thing, for example) is the Vulcan Language Dictionary: www. starbase-10. de/ vld/ - without the spaces, of course.

Bones's struggle with the map mirrors a very horrible experience of my own. Only my map was inaccurate as well as plain stupid with motorways and cart tracks hardly distinguishable.

Someone save me from myself please. I don't normally write sci-fi. I write fantasy, the occasional murder mystery and I mix romance and sometimes smut into it. But I don't write sci-fi. Like ever. Tried once, lost the file, gave it up as a bad job. It just so happens that what I finally did recall of that (ten years later) became Air. Now here I have two options. Take the easy way out, write what I want to be the outcome, who the hell needs an explanation anyway? Add some technobabble and be done. Or … gnaw your way through books and the internet and bug scientists of the family for information. I have a library full of books (real scientific books that you might find in a university library) about medicine and physics and chemistry and biology and heaven knows what else at my disposal. So do I do Star Trek the disservice to produce soft sci-fi? No. Can't do it.

In that vein, the next is for plant people:

Hiemifoils don't exist, obviously. Hiems is Latin for winter, that's all there is to them. Flos linguiformis would be Latin for tongue-shaped flower – flos being flower.

Indian fig is a trivial name for different plants, among them the Eastern Prickly Pear, aka opuntia humifusa. Angiosperms are flowering plants in plain English, as opposed to gymnosperms that include conifers of all sorts. Rosa x centifolia is a hybrid rose that is used for making perfumes and jam. Eudicots are plants that, when they first grow out of their seeds, have two leaves (as opposed to one), simply speaking. Asterids are one group of these plants, rosids (largely rose-related) are another. The Indian fig is a eudicot all right, but more closely related to caryophyllales, that are carnation-like plants. So Kresar wasn't all wrong.

Am I a scientist? Hell, no. I work for an insurance. But I do know enough about natural science in the widest sense not to be overchallenged by my own demands.))