The first unusual thing the girl noticed when she opened her eyes was that she wasn't in her bedroom.

The walls around her were all wrong, a sort of pale gray instead of their usual warm tan, and there was a wall where her door should have been. The lights were on, too, which didn't make any sense if she was supposed to be sleeping.

So, that was weird. Not the weirdest thing that had ever happened to her in her nine years of life, that was for sure, but still odd. She frowned and rolled over, confused—and that was when she noticed the second unusual thing: she wasn't alone. Lying only a few inches away from her, snoring softly, was a boy about her own age. His nose was nearly touching hers, and her eyes went cross-eyed trying to keep him in focus. He didn't look familiar, she assessed. He had purple hair.

"Who the heck are you?" Beckett demanded out loud, and the boy's eyes shot open, realized he was face-to-face with someone else, and screamed.

"Ahhhh!"

His shriek startled her so much that it made her scream, and they both scrambled back, rolling off the opposite ends of the bed and tumbling to the ground. "Oof!" Beckett grunted, as she heard the boy let out a low, "Ow…"

There was a beat of silence, but nothing else happened. Beckett summoned her courage and knelt up, inching herself taller until she could peek over the bed. Opposite her she saw a pair of eyes staring back, looking just as surprised and nervous as she felt—maybe even more so.

Slowly, both of the children straightened up until they were standing on opposite sides of the bed. "Hi…" Beckett said slowly.

"H-Hey," the boy replied, looking wary. They studied each other for a long moment.

"Why purple?" Beckett said at last, tilting her head.

"Huh?"

"Your hair." She pointed at his head, and his eyes followed her finger. "It's purple; is that your favorite color or something?"

"What?!" The boy's eyes went wide, and he immediately looked around, spotted a bathroom attached to the bedroom and ran into it.

Beckett raised both eyebrows in surprise, muttered a "Well nice to meet you too," and followed after him.

When she arrived, the boy was tugging at the ends of his hair, mouth agawp. When he saw her watching him, he whirled on his feet to face her. "It's not supposed to be like that!" he insisted.

Beckett just squinted at him. "Okay? Are you human?"

"Wh– of course I'm human, what else would I be!"

"I don't know, a weird Boslic or something? I met one on a space station once."

The boy just gaped at her. She frowned and crossed her arms. "Didn't your parents ever tell you it was rude to stare at people?"

He flushed. "You were staring at me first!"

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

They glared at each other, before the boy looked around the bathroom, hunching his shoulders nervously. "W-Where do you think we are?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well I-I'm supposed to be at school, and this…doesn't look like my school, so…"

Beckett frowned. "Well obviously, we're on a starship," she said, wondering whether he was dense.

He frowned. "A starship?"

"Yeah?"

"That's impossible," he argued. "Why would two kids be on a starship; besides, I'm supposed to be in Modesto."

Beckett rolled her eyes, a little annoyed by his know-it-all certainty. "Window opacity 0%," she called, apparently to his confusion, and then shrugged. "Go look for yourself, if you don't believe me."

He gave her a dubious look and then headed out the door behind her. Beckett tilted her head, waiting, and then heard the loud gasp and grinned, heading back out.

The boy was staring, wide-eyed, out the large slanted windows into the starry abyss. As he gaped at the view she took the opportunity to survey her surroundings, and realized to her intrigue that, even though this wasn't her bedroom, someone had clearly moved some of her stuff in here for her. Her electric guitar—it was still too big for her, but she'd insisted on learning to play on "the real kind"—had been set up on its stand in the corner, and her Toby the Targ plushy had been (erroneously) set up on some high shelf, instead of in its proper place of honor on the bed. At any rate this was definitely a Starfleet ship; there was a faint delta pattern on the bedspread, and a blocky painting of the Enterprise over the headboard. That was reassuring, since it meant her parents were probably around here somewhere.

"This doesn't make any sense," the boy pleaded to no one in particular, re-drawing her attention. "I-I was on Earth just a few seconds– I mean, just a few minutes…" He trailed off, looking as confused as Beckett felt, and then rallied, turning to her like the situation was her fault: "I don't know what happened, I'm not supposed to be here!"

"Well obviously you are here, so what are you gonna do?" she said with a shrug, looking around the unfamiliar room again in interest. "I mean this isn't my ship, either, but you don't see me freaking out about it."

"How can you be so calm about this?! This is a Starfleet ship, w-we're probably not even allowed onboard!"

"Speak for yourself, I'm supposed to be here."

"So you know where we are?" he demanded urgently. "You remember how you got here?"

"Well—no," Beckett admitted, a little unsettled by this realization. "But some of this is my stuff." She went over to the guitar on its stand and gave the strings a basic but practiced strum. "See? My parents are Starfleet officers, they must have brought me in here while I was asleep or something." She looked around at the pale-gray walls and rubbed her chin. "This isn't our ship though, so maybe we're visitors–?"

Her musings were cut off as the boy let out a low groan and sat down on the end of the bed, twisting his fingers into his purple hair. "I can't believe this," he moaned. "I can't be on a starship —oh man, my dad's gonna kill me!"

"Hey, this isn't your fault," the girl said quickly, hurrying over to stand in front of him. "You said it yourself, you don't even remember getting on the ship!"

"That's not the point! I-I'm not even supposed to leave the school without permission, let alone planet earth! I–"

"What's your name, anyway?" Beckett interjected, before he could start freaking out again.

"Bradward Boimler," the boy said miserably, fingers still laced into his hair.

"Well, my name's Beckett Freeman and I know all about starships, so I'll help you figure this out," she promised. "Computer? What ship is this?"

"This vessel is the U.S.S. Cerritos: California Class," a loud voice chimed, and Bradward jumped at the noise.

"What was that?!"

"The computer?" Beckett said, again giving him an odd look. "Doesn't your school have one?"

"N-No?"

"Well, starships do. The computer knows everything, you can ask it whatever you want."

But something about the computer's response had caught his attention. "Cerritos, California class …I'm from California too," he said, trying to think through the rising panic. "M-Maybe that's related somehow?"

She shrugged. "S'worth a shot. Computer, how far are we from California?"

"The State of California, United States of America, Planet Earth, is eighteen light years or 172.8 trillion kilometers away."

"Huh. Well, that's that theory shot down," Beckett said, already cooking up a new one, but Bradward's face had fallen.

"Oh, no," he said weakly, tears springing to his eyes. "Oh, no no no no no…"

"Bradward?" she said, surprised. "You okay?"

"M-My dad is going to kill me…"

"Wh– no, hey, c'mon," she insisted, sitting down next to him as he clutched his head and began to hyperventilate. "Look, all you've gotta do is explain that this isn't your fault and–"

"Explain how?!" he shrieked, smacking his hands down on his legs in frustration. "I'm on a starship a hundred trillion kilometers from earth! Oh god, I'm gonna be grounded until the end of time!" The tears slipped down his face as he panicked even harder: "Plus w-when I mess up he yells at me and I h-hate it! I don't try to get in trouble, it's just that I make a lot of mistakes and–"

"Well he can't be mad at you for making mistakes," Beckett scoffed. "They're mistakes!" This was apparently the wrong thing to say, as the boy began to cry in earnest, sliding off the bed to the carpet and burying his face in his knees. Beckett's eyes bulged. "W-whoa, hey, don't cry!" she tried, crouching down next to him.

That didn't do much to help, as Bradward was full-on sobbing now. "I– can't– h- help– it!" he managed to choke out; even though they were roughly the same height, he looked so small and scared there on the carpet, with his shoulders heaving in little shudders, that Beckett found her own throat closing up. "I– don't– even– know– w- where I am!"

She had to do something to calm him down, and fast. The girl bit her lip, and then—tentatively at first and then more sure—wrapped her arms around him in a hug.

Bradward actually stopped crying for a moment in surprise, lifting his head. Then he sniffled and hugged her back, starting to cry again, but this time less forcefully. They remained like that for a while, until he'd calmed down and was just hiccupping quietly to himself as he disentangled himself from her arms. "Th-Thanks," he stammered.

"Don't mention it," Beckett said sincerely. "You feeling better?"

"A-A little." His face was pink, but from the crying or embarrassment she couldn't tell. "Sorry for being such a crybaby. I just really hate getting in trouble…"

"Yeah, your dad sounds mean," she said bluntly.

"I-I mean, he's my dad, he's supposed to yell at me when I do things wrong. Don't your parents ever yell at you?"

"Sure, all the time. I yell back at them too."

His eyes widened in awe. "You backtalk your parents?"

"Yeah, I mean I'm not supposed to," she added, a bit proudly. "But I'm not scared of them!"

"You must be really brave. I mean, obviously you're brave, you're just as lost as I am and you didn't cry." He rubbed his neck and dropped his gaze. "I guess that makes me a coward, compared to a cool starship kid like you…"

Beckett studied him for a moment, and then set a hand on his shoulder, causing him to look back up at her. "You know, Toby the Targ says that even honorable warriors get scared sometimes." She nodded at his surprised expression and said gravely: "He says you can't really be brave unless you're a little scared, too."

He sniffled again and wiped his eyes, studying her. "W-who's Toby the Targ?"

Beckett's mouth fell open. "You haven't heard of Toby the Targ?"

"N-No?"

"That's crazy. Every kid's heard of Toby the Targ; man, you have been deprived!" She shook her head and stood up; some problems were dire enough that they had to be remedied immediately, and a kid not knowing about the world's greatest holo-character was one of them. "Come on, let's get out of here. If we have to be stuck on this ship then we may as well have some fun."

"What? No, we have to stay here! Otherwise the adults won't be able to find us!"

"It's a starship, silly, the computer always knows where you are. Watch." She cleared her throat and then said in a clear, loud voice: "Computer, where's Beckett Freeman?"

Bradward, who'd also been standing up, jumped again as it answered: "Beckett Mariner, née Freeman, is on Deck 2."

"There, see? It knows where I am."

But he was frowning. "What does 'née' mean?"

"Uh, neigh is a sound horses make. I know all about earth horses, I take lessons," she said proudly. "Don't they teach you anything in Medosto?"

"It's Modesto," he corrected as he straightened up. "Besides, just because the computer knows where you are doesn't mean it knows where I am."

"Well why don't you go ahead and ask it," Beckett scoffed, planting her hands on her hips.

Bradward eyed her, uneasy, and then raised his voice. "Um– Computer? C-Could you tell me where Bradward Boimler is, please?"

He sounded so painfully polite that Beckett thought for a moment the ship wouldn't even recognize it as a command, but the computerized female voice piped out from the hidden speakers nevertheless: "Bradward Boimler is on Deck 2."

Becktt brightened. "See? You're in the computer too, that means you're supposed to be here." She nodded at his clothes. "Plus you're wearing a uniform, 'fact we both are. Someone in Starfleet obviously brought us here on purpose, and that means you can't be in trouble!"

He actually looked a little reassured at this. "You think? For real?"

To tell the truth she didn't actually know, but she didn't want the boy to start crying again. "Of course," she said breezily, waving a hand. "Now come on, how often do you get a whole day off school with no adult supervision! We need to make the most of it!"

"Where are we going?"

"Uh, only the best place on the whole ship. Computer, which way to the holodeck!"

The pair followed the computer's directions out of the room and down the empty hall towards the turbolift. "Deck 6!" Beckett called as the doors shut, and the turbolift began to move downwards.

Bradward looked around as, quite apart from the noise of the turbolift, a faint humming began to fill the air and buzz through the floor under his feet. "What was that?" he asked anxiously.

"Probably the warp core," Beckett said with a shrug

"You mean the ship's moving?"

"Mmhm. Huh, it sounds a little different from the one on my ship…" She tilted her head and then tried to imitate the noise with her mouth. "Fvvvvvvv. Fvvvvvv…"

Bradward frowned thoughtfully. "I dunno, kind of sounds more like Krrghhhhh to me."

"Please, it's way lower than that! Fvvvvvvvvv–!"

"Krrghhhhhhhhh–!"

Each of them kept getting louder, trying to drown the other out until Brad's face was turning as purple as his hair and Beckett's cheeks were puffed out. "Oh, hey!" she said brightly as the turbolift beeped and opened, leaving him wheezing behind her as she stepped out onto Deck 6. "Come on, the computer's pointing this way!"

Still huffing for air, he caught up to her a moment later, peering around. They were in another hallway, with the wall's computer screens pointing their way to a room not far from the lift doors—but he was immediately distracted by the sight of a large window at the end of the hallway, his eyes flying wide.

"So the lore of Toby the Targ is, like, super deep, and I've played all the games, but all you really need to know is—hey, where are you going?" Beckett said in surprise as the boy ran forward past the holodeck doors. He stopped at the end of the hallway, gaping at the view.

"Whoa," he whispered. Strange white lights flashed past the window in rainbow-tinted streamers, while the stars glittered in the far distance; as he watched he could see unknown constellations fading in and out of view. It was like looking at the night sky from out in the fields on the vineyard, but a million times better. He couldn't tear his eyes away even as Beckett walked up beside him. "What are the moving lights?"

"Space debris," she said with a shrug. "It ignites when it hits the shields at warp speed."

"And you get to see this every day?"

"Yeah…?" She watched the lights sparkle in his starstruck eyes for a moment, and then turned to look out the window herself, realizing that she'd never given it that much attention before. It really was beautiful. "Yeah," she repeated softly. "I…guess it's pretty cool."

"So cool," he sighed.

They stood there for a long moment, framed by the window and the light of the dazzling display, before Beckett shook herself. "Come on," she urged, grabbing his arm. "If you think warp speed is cool, just wait! You haven't seen anything yet!"

The afternoon—or, well, whatever time it was, but it was "afternoon" in the game Beckett had loaded in the holodeck—faded away in a golden haze of problem-solving and minor adventures with Toby the Targ and his maqoch'pu , ending in a heartwarming conclusion about the "honorable power of friendship." It was a little immature for Bradward's tastes, who felt that at nine years old talking cartoon animals were to be replaced with talking cartoon people, but this was made up for by the fact that the game was set on Qo'nos. It was the first time he'd ever "been" anywhere outside the Central Valley, and even a cartoon version of an alien world was fascinating and new to him. Beckett also seemed to know everything about Klingon history and culture, and didn't mind being peppered with questions about it (even if she was a bit of a know-it-all at times). All told, it was the most fun he'd had in a long, long time, and when the game was over he was in no hurry to let the afternoon end.

"What's it like growing up on a Starship?"

They were lying on their back in the grass, the distant sounds of Toby and company playing on loop from elsewhere in the wood, as the humans had wandered off on their own away from the main storyline to explore the "Forests of the Homeworld" (which unknown to either child were far less deadly than its counterpart on the real Qo'nos). After catching some extremely spiky toad-like things and then letting them go in the stream, the pair had sat down to watch the sky and pick out cloud shapes, something Beckett had never done before. The in-game sun was just beginning to set, and she yawned before answering.

"Mm…it's just normal most of the time, I guess," she said with a shrug. "Kids on earth have to go to school too, right?"

"Yeah, every day. I mean, except weekends."

"Same for us." She tilted her head against the grass, considering. "But I guess there's always something kinda crazy going on. Mom and Dad are lieutenants, so they have to deal with a ton of weird space stuff."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Uhh well like one time, the ship got filled with living vines! They dragged some people into the vents," she said with a laugh. Brad sat up, looking at her anxiously.

"That's awful!"

"Nah, it was fine," Beckett giggled, waving her hand. "I mean they got a little scratched up from the twigs, but the captain taught the vine creature about how everyone should be friends and work together, and it stopped attacking the ship. Then they found it a new planet to live on."

"Oh. That's…good, I guess." He shivered. "Still sounds kind of scary though."

"Listen, I don't know what things are like on earth," she said, sitting up, "but everyone in Starfleet is super smart and strong, and really brave too. They can handle anything!"

"Really?"

"Of course! Living on a starship is totally safe; even if things seem scary sometimes, the captain and the crew always fix it in the end," she reassured him with a grin, which he hesitantly returned. "Ooh, but I haven't even told you the best part of living on a starship! Have you ever heard of a Red Alert?"

"No? What does that mean?"

"It means extra recess! The teacher stops class, and we all get to play games instead! Sometimes it happens when you're asleep too, but my parents just turn off the alarm since nobody can go to recess or report-for-duty when it's nighttime." She shook her head. "My mom says that kids on earth don't ever have Red Alerts; boy do I feel sorry for you."

"I wish we did," Brad sighed. "Recess is, like, the only time I get to do what I want."

"What about after school?"

"That's when I do my homework, and then I have farm chores."

Her eyes went wide. "You live on a farm? That's so cool!"

"It's really not," he insisted. "It's so much work, there's picking grapes and sorting grapes and drying grapes, and even in the winter there's pruning and fertilizing and repairs to do." He peered up at the sky; even one of the cartoon clouds looked like a bunch of grapes. "Dad says I have to learn how to do every job on the farm since I'll be running the place someday, but I don't even like raisins. I'd rather live on a starship with you."

"Yeah, but wouldn't you miss your parents?" Beckett pointed out.

"Oh," he considered. "I hadn't thought about that; I'd miss my mom…"

"Plus you'd never see your friends anymore."

But Brad just shrugged. "I don't really have any friends."

"Oh," Beckett said awkwardly. "Sorry."

"I-It's okay. It's actually not so bad!" he insisted, pinking. "It gives me more time to read." He winced as if realizing just how much this made him sound like a loser, but Beckett only grinned at him.

"I like to read too! My favorite are adventure books."

"History," he said, smiling back.

"That's cool. Maybe you can join Starfleet someday; my parents are diplomats and they have to read lots of history for their jobs." She lay back down on the grass. "Anyway, if you lived on my ship, I'd be your friend. Then we could play together all the time."

"...Thanks, Beckett," he said softly, laying down again next to her. "I'd like that." They watched the holo-projected stars start to pop out against the sky as it faded from pink to purple to peacock-blue.

At least, until someone broke into their private universe with an annoyed: "There you two are!"

Both children sat bolt upright, and Bradward's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. In front of him was standing a—well it had to be a woman, because she was standing on two feet and glaring at them, and a doctor too, given the pale blue lab coat. But the only thing he could think of to say, loudly and blinking in shock, was: "You're a cat."

The doctor looked affronted. Beckett gasped. "You can't say that to a Caitian, Bradward, it's raci– oh wow a cyborg!"

A man with a metal plate on his head and a mechanical eye had run through the archway and skidded to a halt. "Oh hey, you found them!" He tapped his badge and said, "Captain, we've got them; they were in Holodeck 3!"

"You got any idea how worried we were about you?" the cat-doctor-lady was now lecturing them, arms crossed as she glared down at the children. "If you weren't going to stay in your room then you could've at least commed us or something!"

"W-We're sorry– we didn't–" Bradward stammered, but was cut off as Beckett crossed her arms and planted her feet. "First off, I don't know you," she retorted, much to his terror, "and second off, I'm not supposed to talk to strange aliens without my mom or dad present!"

"Strange alien? So that's the thanks I get for repairing all your broken bones the last few years–"

"Uh, Dr. T'Ana? I don't think they recognize us," the cyborg piped up. "They said before we beamed them up that the cave was messing with their memories, remember?"

"What? Oh. Huh, good point," the doctor said, looking back at them and rubbing her furry chin. "I still think your idea of putting 'em back down and then beaming them up again should fix the problem, though…"

She was cut off by the archway opening again, and Beckett's eyes went wide. "Mom!"

Bradward watched, still in shocked bewilderment, as she ran forward and threw her arms around the new woman's waist, causing her to stumble back. He could see how the two could have been related—they looked similar enough—but with her steel-gray hair and the deeper lines around her eyes, the woman was obviously several decades older than his own mother. Beckett apparently noticed this too, as she drew back and peered up at the woman's face with a frown. "Mom? Why do you look so old?"

"Thank you, Beckett," the woman huffed, looking around until her eyes landed on him. "Good, Mr. Boimler's with you." She turned back to her daughter and immediately launched into a lecture: "Have you got any idea how worried we were? You shouldn't be wandering around the ship in your condition–!"

Bradward clenched his hands in anxiety. The woman didn't seem truly angry yet, but she was clearly annoyed. He looked at the confused Beckett as she stepped back, and then the grumpy doctor and the scary-looking cyborg, and steeled his will.

"–I know you look like a kid, Beckett, but you're still a member of my crew and–"

"I-It wasn't her fault!"

His shout echoed off the cartoon trees so loudly that it startled even him. He found he'd closed his eyes and forced himself to open them again; the woman had stopped her lecture, surprised, and even the doctor and the cyborg were looking at him. "Please, ma'am, you can't blame Beckett!" he insisted, stepping forward.

"Mr. Boimler–?"

"I-I was scared since I can't remember how I got here, and she was just trying to help me feel better. It wasn't her fault, I swear! So please, don't… don't be mad at her…"

For a long moment they just stood there, the woman and the other officers staring at him, the boy trying not to shake in his boots. He'd never stood up to authority like this before, but he'd never had a friend like Beckett before, either. He was going to get in trouble regardless, so it was time to be brave—like she was. Like all Starfleet people were.

Beckett's mother at last stopped staring at him and turned back to the others. "They really don't remember anything, do they?"

"Doesn't seem like," the doctor said with a shrug.

"Those caves were messing with their memories, captain," the cyborg offered. "I think when we beamed them up it must have routed their particles through a part of the cave that put them back at this age."

"Hnh. That would make sense," Beckett's mother agreed, rubbing her chin. "But there's one way to know for sure. Beckett, Mr. Boimler," she turned back to the children," how old are you?"

"Nine," they answered together.

"And what year do you think it is?"

"2361," Beckett said promptly, at the same time that Brad said "2364." The two looked at each other in surprise.

"Well, that settles it. Come on, you two, let's get you down to sickbay. I'll explain there."

"So– hang on. You think I'm twenty-nine years old? And you're a captain now?"

Beckett was giving her mother a dubious look. "I don't think it, I know it," the older woman snorted. "I wouldn't have let my nine- year-old report to work this morning."

"If we're adults," Bradward asked, before Beckett could say something snarky back, "why don't we remember being adults?"

"The three of us beamed down a few hours ago to explore some strange geography on Bajor VII," the cyborg, whose name was apparently Lieutenant Rutherford, chimed in. "You guys went to look around in a cave system while I stayed outside to take some readings on a rock formation, but we got worried when you stopped communicating with the ship. It turned out the cave walls were lined with mineral veins emitting massive numbers of previously-undetected chronotons."

"Every time you tried to walk back the way you came, you got a little younger and forgot why you were even in there in the first place," Beckett's mother explained, seeing their confusion at the technobabble. "Eventually you figured it out and contacted the ship to beam you up from your current position. Problem is the transporter lost its lock on you for a few seconds, and when you showed up in the transporter room you were both, well, like this."

"Out cold, too," Dr. T'Ana added, running the tricorder over them.

"We decided to let you sleep in Beckett's quarters while we worked on a theory to fix you," the captain concluded. "We didn't even consider that you might wake up and not know where you are."

Brad's eyes had lit up. "So if I'm a Starfleet officer, does that mean I could stay here with Beckett and live on your ship?"

"You already do. You have your own quarters, a commission—in fact, Mr. Boimler, you're one of my most dedicated officers."

"Wow," he murmured, face shining at the praise.

But Beckett was eyeing her mother suspiciously. "How do I know this is all real," she demanded. "I mean you could be a shapeshifter, or being mind-controlled—this could all be a hallucination!"

"Hnh. Well, I guess I can't blame you for being suspicious; I'd be too in your position," she acknowledged, unlocking her Padd and handing it to Beckett. "Computer, play security recording from the bridge on stardate 58800.9 and transfer to the Captain's Padd." A video appeared on the screen, and the two children peered down.

It seemed to be footage of a starship bridge, and sitting in the front two chairs were… them. But not them as they were now; older, cooler versions of them, easily typing away on the consoles without even having to look at their work. The young Bradward reached up in intrigue to tug on a lock of purple hair, while the young Beckett stared in awe at the two pips—one gold, on black—glittering on her adult self's collar.

"I'm just saying," the older Beckett was saying, half-lounging in her chair and turning to face her companion, "If Tendi calls us up asking us for help, I am, like, 100% ready to throw hands with some pirates."

"You know, Mariner, one of these days your overconfidence is going to get you in trouble," the older Bradward said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you mean like how your over cautiousness does every day?"

"Caution is a good thing! What's wrong with being cautious?!"

"Because this is Starfleet, man! You're a lieutenant-J-G now; time to start taking some risks, exploring the great unknown!"

"Well some of us like to take things a little slower. You know, get a feel for the situation, understand it more before jumping into things feet-first?"

"Yeah?" older-Beckett smirked. "You gonna buy it dinner first too?"

As older-Bradward spluttered, her mother called from the captain's chair, "Alright, you two, that's enough. Lt. Mariner, status report."

"All systems stable, Captain. –And besides, Boimsie's my best friend, he knows I'm just teasing him."

"Not on my bridge you're not; focus up, both of you. Mr. Boimler, chart us a path to Bajor VII."

"Aye, Captain; setting course to Bajor VII, Warp 6. We should be there by 1200 hours."

"Perfect. And no more bickering on the job; I know you're both worried about Lt. Tendi, but I need you to have your heads in the game for the mission."

"Aye Captain, sorry Captain." "Sorry, Mom."

"Good. Warp me!"

Beckett's mother tapped the screen and the video froze. "See? That security feed was from this morning; you believe me now?"

Beckett considered this, and then nodded. "Okay. Your story adds up."

Bradward reached out and took the Padd from Beckett's hands, peering down in awe at his older self. "So you know how to turn us into adults again?" he demanded eagerly.

"We think so. Mr. Rutherford's been analyzing the transporter data from when we beamed you up, and he believes he can reverse it to reroute your particles back down through the exact path they came up in."

"The main problem is we don't wanna put you back in your adult bodies without bringing your adult memories back too," T'Ana added, snapping her tricorder shut and picking up a specimen box in which a lab mouse was skittering around. "That would just be opening a whole different can of gagh. We're gonna test out Mr. Rutherford's theory with this little guy and make sure it works before trying it on you."

The next hour or so therefore passed with an interesting distraction for the two children, who watched from the biobeds as Dr. T'ana and Lt. Rutherford ran several transporter tests, first with some plant seedlings and then with the lab mouse. Beckett, ever the impatient (and already by this point in her young life not very impressed with transporters and minor space-weirdness), nevertheless soon began to kick her legs and flop back down on the biobed with a huff. "Is this going to take much longer?" she demanded.

"Do you want permanent memory loss?" the doctor quipped back, darting out a paw to catch the, now much smaller, mouse by the tail as it tried to scamper off the transporter pad, only to set it back and send it off through a spinning beam of light once again. "Lucky for you, I think we're almost ready to go here." Captain Freeman, however, had looked up from the report she was filling out on the next bed, as if something had suddenly occurred to her.

"Beckett, uh– can I– could I talk to you for a minute?" She glanced at Lt. Rutherford and said meaningfully: "Alone?"

"Oh! Right, no problem Captain. Hey, Boimler, wanna see how a tricorder works?"

Bradward's eyes lit. "Really? You mean it?"

"Sure do, buddy. Here, let's press some random buttons and see what they do!"

As Rutherford led Bradward away to the other side of the room, the captain set aside her Padd, wringing her hands. "Beckett," she began uneasily, searching her daughter's eyes, "if you don't want to do this– I mean, you don't have to do this."

"Captain–" the physician warned, but Freeman cut her off.

"She's my daughter, Doctor; I raised her once, I can do it again. Besides, it's her memories; she deserves to decide for herself." The doctor, apparently relenting, shrugged and turned away, and the captain turned back to the girl. "Beckett, listen to me," she said more urgently, setting her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Sometimes– sometimes growing up isn't everything it's cracked up to be, alright? Sometimes, things get hard, and–"

"Mom?"

"I know your father and I did a lot of sugarcoating when you were young, but…sometimes, working in Starfleet isn't safe," she sighed, shoulders slumping. "And if you go back to the age you were, I– I won't be able to protect you from that. From…everything that happened to you."

Beckett's eyes widened as she grasped, at least a little, what her mother was talking about. She looked back over her shoulder at the boy, who was still poking around on the tricorder and asking the cyborg a barrage of excited questions. "But…what will happen to Brad if we don't go back to being adults?" She turned back. "Could he stay here on the ship with us?"

Her mother looked confused. "Uh– no, Beckett, in that case we'd have to send him back to his parents. But we can fix Mr. Boimler's age without having to fix yours."

"But Mom, you heard what older-me said, we're best friends! We can't be friends anymore if I'm still a kid and he's not!"

"That's…true, but–"

"Sometimes being honorable means sticking by your friends even when it's hard. I can't just abandon him like that!"

The captain blinked at her. "Did you just– quote Toby the Targ at me?" But Beckett merely looked back at her so stubbornly that she sighed, mouth quirking upwards. "Hnh. Well…I can see I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

"No way," Beckett vowed, hopping off the biobed. "Besides, I'm not supposed to be this age, right? Just because I can't remember being an adult doesn't mean I wasn't one." Her voice softened as she added: "I'll be okay, Mom, really."

Her mother bit her lip, and then sighed and nodded. "I know. I know you will." She hesitated, and then leaned down and gave her daughter a hug. Beckett returned it without a moment's delay, though she was confused as to why this seemed to make her mother's breath catch and her arms squeeze her even tighter.

The moment was over too soon; there was a tinkling sound as the medbay's transporter lit up and the adult mouse reappeared, and the captain looked over Beckett's shoulder to the doctor. T'Ana caught the mouse again and ran a tricorder over it, and then nodded.

"We're good to go whenever you guys are."

"Right," the captain sighed, pulling away. "Mr. Boimler–" The boy looked over, "–We're ready for you."

He bounded back over, face flushed with excitement, and quickly took his place on the transporter pad. Beckett left her mother's side and strode up to it, as confident as ever, and grinned when Bradward turned to her with a beaming smile. "You two ready?" Dr. T'Ana called.

"Ready!" the boy said eagerly, and then added in a sigh, mostly to himself: "This is the best day ever."

"Yeah, beam us down Scotty," Beckett said impatiently, which caused her mother to hide a snort and the doctor to roll her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. Jeez I guess she was always like this, huh."

"You'd better believe it," the captain said dryly, and then met her daughter's eyes and gave her a strange smile. It almost seemed a little sad. "You'd better believe it."

There was a swirl of blue lights, and the two children vanished, leaving the transporter empty. T'Ana glanced at Rutherford, who gave her a thumbs up, and ramped up the switches again.

With a shimmering noise, two figures reappeared on the pad. Mariner and Boimler were left blinking in the lights, peering around as if they weren't quite sure where they were for a moment—before Mariner's gaze found her mother's. "Oh. Hey, mom…"

She trailed off, and the captain apparently realized she was staring because looked away, clearing her throat. "Well, uh– glad to see everything's back to normal. Doctor, I'll be in my ready-room if you need me," she said quickly, sounding unnerved, and made a beeline for the door.

Dr. T'Ana watched her go and then turned back to her patients. "So," she said conversationally. "How much do you remember?"

Boimler and Mariner glanced at each other, both beginning to flush pink. "Uhh…"

Once it became clear that the two lieutenants were medically sound and did, in fact, remember everything, Dr. T'Ana and Rutherford gave them some privacy. "So," Boimler began, from his position on an adjacent biobed, "I don't suppose we could just forget the whole 'having a crying meltdown over getting lost' thing?"

"I don't know man, can we forget the whole 'playing with cartoon animals on the holodeck' thing?" she replied with a cringe. "Also like half of what I told you about Klingons was made-up bullshit, don't quote me on any of that." He gave an awkward chuckle.

"I'd like to say yes, but I'm pretty sure this whole humiliating day is going to be burned into my mind forever," he admitted.

"Urgh, same. And I should probably go talk to my Mom," Mariner sighed.

"You think so?"

"Yeah, I think seeing me all cute and un-traumatized like that really shook her up. So that's gonna be a fun conversation…"

She trailed off, looking away. He did the same, rubbing the back of his neck. "So, uh…red alerts, huh?" he said at last.

Mariner winced ruefully. "It's standard procedure for starships with schools on them, keeps the kids calm while the ship is getting hammered. The teachers do a lot to shelter the younger kids, you know, make sure they don't get traumatized before they've learned how to read…"

"Right, makes sense."

She nodded and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "I mean, feels like I got lucky. Doesn't sound like growing up on Earth was all that great."

"Oh, you know, it was…uh, terrible," he admitted, slumping and lowering his hand. "Yeah, it sucked."

"Kinda got that impression, yeah. I'm sorry man, for real."

"S'fine. I mean, who knows, if I had been happy there I might never have joined Starfleet, so…"

"Yeah." She looked up and managed a small smile. "Hey, Brad?" He raised his eyebrows. "I'm glad you're my best friend."

Boimler half-grinned back at her. "Yeah, Mariner. Me too."

Their conversation broke off as the door to T'Ana's office opened again. "You two done with your little heart to heart?" she asked brusquely, not bothering to wait for an answer. "Good, sing off on these Padds and I'll discharge you."

The pair headed out of the medbay together, already feeling a little more back to their old selves—well, older selves. "Looks like beta shift's over," Mariner observed, seeing the dimmed lights. "We should do something fun; after the day we had we deserve it."

"We just spent our whole shift 'having fun,'" he pointed out. "Besides, weren't you gonna go talk to the Captain?"

They paused as the red-alert siren began to wail overhead. "All gamma-shift officers to battle positions!" Freeman's voice barked, and Mariner brightened.

"Hey, look at that, a perfect excuse not to."

"Alright, fair enough. Guess she wouldn't want to be bothered right now anyway." The ship shook under their feet, and Boimler tilted his head. "That felt like a big one," he assessed, not sounding particularly worried.

"Eh; not our shift, not our problem," Mariner said with a shrug as people ran past them. "Anyway, wanna hit the holodeck? –No Toby the Targ this time, I promise."

"Okay, fine," he relented. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well now that I know you're a big old history nerd–"

"Oh please, like you're not!"

"–We've obviously gotta do some sort of period piece! Ooh we could do an Old West town–"

"Didn't you get stomped on by a horse in one of those?" But he was grinning now, and Beckett, knowing she had him, happily feigned offense:

"Hey, the delicate dance between horse and horse-girl is a—holy shit, née! It said née, I get it now!"

Fin.