Every time P’Mala rematerialized from teleportation, she imagined she felt what a snake must feel after shedding its old skin–all her atoms rearranged fresh into whatever constituted herself.

The USS Challenger was a larger vessel than the smaller ships on which she’d previously traveled, and she didn’t know what to expect–an officer to greet her, perhaps? But the room was empty.

“They must have not known I was coming,” she thought. “Or else something came up at the last minute.”

Her uniform was pin-straight, but still she brushed at it with the backs of her hands to smooth it down. She wished for a pair of sunglasses–something to dim the room. Though she looked as calm as glass, everything inside of her felt a twinge… off.

“Computer, where am I?”

=^= “You are aboard the USS Challenger.”=^=

She’d forgotten that it took some time for her to establish a working communication with AI, both too literal minded for their own good.

“Computer, where aboard Challenger am I?”

=^= “You are in a teleporter room 2 on Deck 3.”=^=

P’Mala sighed inwardly. “Computer, can you direct me to the Medical Officer, please?”

=^=”Dr. Frankenstein, Deck 4.”=^=

P’Mala gave a slight smile out of the corner of her mouth–quick then gone. While growing up in the mountains, she’d often read classic English novels, gifts from her mother’s family. The irony was not lost on her, and she allowed herself to enjoy it.

The halls of the Discovery-class ship were busy enough, not overcrowded like there was some emergency that prevented someone from greeting her. Oddly enough, nobody batted an eye as she took the lift to Deck 4 and walked toward sickbay.

Inside, the room was cool. The noises of the machines were familiar to her and felt somewhat comforting.

P’mala stood by the door, patient, waiting for all that was still to come on this big day: her first actual assignment to a Federation ship.