Deck Five was quieter than the others she’d visited so far. The air was cool, crisp, and sterile, humming with the constant processing of data streams and scientific equipment. Nala could feel the subtle temperature shift through her fur this deck was kept colder to maintain calibration stability.

Her ears turned toward every faint sound:
• the whisper of a holo-display updating,
• the distant pulse of a stasis unit,
• the soft harmonic vibration of a genomic sequencer somewhere down the hall.

This was the air of science.
This was where she belonged.

Her datapad guided her left, then right, her tail tucked neatly behind her as she moved with measured steps toward Room 5B-02: Chief Science Officer’s Office.

The door before her was sleek, dark, and unadorned Vulcan efficiency at its purest.

She stopped exactly one pace away, straightened her uniform jacket, and forced her breathing into calm, even intervals.

First impressions matter. Slow your thoughts. Answer only after he finishes speaking. Breathe.

She repeated the mantra silently.

Then, with a steady hand, she reached out and pressed the chime panel.

A soft tone sounded inside the office.

Nala folded her hands behind her back, tail still, posture perfect. She kept her expression neutral, though her heart thumped rapidly beneath her ribs.

He will answer. Wait. Do not overthink. Do not pace. Do not let your ears flatten.

Seconds stretched and seemed to echo.

This was her official moment of reporting in, her first interaction with the officer who would shape her entire scientific career aboard the Challenger.

She stayed motionless, listening for the slightest sound.

cadet Nala