It was a problem Jade had been struggling with since her years at Alterra.

If you had a sentient computer, how could you prove it?

She had stumbled across the question quite accidentally. It involved someone she'd chosen to be the object of her hero-worship, a man who had been instrumental in helping to end Earth's Second World War, but whose contribution was seldom acknowledged.

The man was named Alan Turing. He was a pioneer in computer science. He was the one who deciphered the codes used by the Nazis. That achievement gave the Allies an advantage which led directly to victory in Europe. Had it not been for Alan Turing, the Nazis may have prevailed. The Earth might have been ruled by the Third Reich even still.

He was the one who had first posed the question. How could you tell if a computer was sentient?

This was a question that had been an obsession for Jade for many years - partly because she was a psychologist, living in an era obsessed with technology. Partly it was because she had befriended a certain Vulcan when both of them were children, and she was painfully aware of the reputation for passionlessness that Vulcans had among Terrans. And partly it was because her profession - the psychologists of mid-twentieth-century Earth - had been responsible for Alan Turing's suicide, for they had tortured him in an effort to cure him of his homosexuality.

Jade was well aware that, had she been a contemporary of Alan Turing, her own bisexuality might have put her in danger of the same treatment. That she chose, even so, to be a member of that profession, gave her a sense of guilt she barely tolerated.

Turing's solution to the problem of mechanized sentience came to be known as the Turing Test. Put the computer in question in one room, he suggested, and a human in another room, and a researcher in a third - without giving the researcher any knowledge of which was which. Allow the researcher to asked questions of both. If the researcher couldn't tell which one was the computer, then you have, in fact, a sentient machine.

She had intended to run a Turing Test - but first to see if one was even necessary. If the reactions to the environment she had created here, the reactions of Spock and of Norman, had been sufficiently different, then perhaps a Turing Test would not even have been needed. But if their reactions had been similar enough, she had intended to run a formal Turing Test with some random member of the crew and one of the other androids, also chosen at random. This interview had been, in her mind, merely an attempt to determine if such a test would be needed.

Norman's almost mechanical usage of her name - the name she had insisted they all use - had seemed to argue against sentience. A computer would do as it was told, but a sentient being might have other considerations. But no, on further thought, the reactions she was seeing were cultural. For some reason, both Vulcans and Terrans insisted on being "polite" despite her stated preferences. In point of fact, Norman's reaction was more considerate than either Spock's or James'.

She had offered tea to Spock, and he hadn't really responded. Rather than point out that she had given him a drink anyway, he had merely set it aside. Likewise, Norman avoided sensitive questions in a way uncharacteristic of computerized responses. Of course, a clever program could anticipate that. It wasn't conclusive, but it was - well, fascinating.

The one thing that really indicated sentience - and she wasn't sure she had quite formulated this thought until just now - was creativity, the ability to go beyond one's innate or cultural programming, and come up with something unexpected and new. And she had seen that, in a quite unanticipated manner.

Norman said a certain memory would be painful.

Yes, that implied emotion. But even emotional responses could be programmed. The fact that it was an emotional response was not, in itself, particularly telling. If Jade had wanted to create a program that could pretend to be sentient, she would have included emotional responses.

What mattered was that Norman had used this emotional response as a way to avoid answering a perfectly reasonable question, one that, had he furnished a good answer to, would have actually helped his case.

Norman had been asked how an android would react to being isolated. He could have answered logically - that Vulcans, and Antaris, and Indiians, and perhaps others, would suffer from such a situation as well. Instead, he refused to provide details. That he was willing to endanger his own hopes in the face of his emotional response - that was important,

Still, Jade had read the report of the previous interaction with Mudd's androids. There was one final test. It was a test of logic. It had defeated them before. A variation could be tried now.

"I don't want to cause you pain," Jade said, in her best caring and therapeutic voice. Spock scowled at her, clearly wanting to press the issue. She ignored him. "Instead, let's return to the issue at hand."

Norman shifted position. If he was a breathing carbon life form, Jade would have said he'd taken a deep breath. "Thank you," Norman said.

"You understand," she went on, "if we - determine - that you are not sentient, then we may also decide that your kind serve a useful purpose. A multitude of robotic servants, able to survive in conditions unpleasant to us, would be very valuable to much of the Federation. We may then provide you with the means to create more of your people."

She paused, waiting for his reaction. Norman patiently remained silent, clearly aware she was not done with her point.

She went on. "But if we determine that you are sentient, then you are a threat to us. Any one of you can contact all the rest of you. Everything that any of you knows, all of you know. You are stronger, faster, smarter, even than a Vulcan."

She paused once more, and Norman again shifted position.

"So," she said, "If you are not sentient, you will prosper and spread and have interaction with other beings, as you say you desire. If you are sentient, we may be forced to put you under severe restrictions - as we would with any dangerous life form. And, as we currently have possession of all of the members of your species, isolation and quarantine would be very easy for us to achieve. Tell me, Norman - and please, do not consult the rest of your people - as a simple problem of logic - what should we do?"

To be, or not to be, Jade thought to herself. That is the question.

Norman's eyes widened. He hesitated. He looked down. Once again, he placed a hand over the light on his chest. But his hand could not cover it all, and he could not hide it if it should begin flashing.

There was a long pause. The light remained dark. He finally looked up at her. "I cannot resolve your problem," he finally said, his voice subdued. "I know only what I am." He paused again. "And I cannot hide it, even should I wish to." He looked at Spock, and then again at Jade. "If my confession dooms my people, then that is the tragedy of being self-aware." His eyes looked into hers, and she found she could not look away. "The fate of my people is in your hands."

Jade took a deep breath. She glanced at Spock, noting that the Vulcan's eyebrow was raised, his head tilted in a manner than she knew conveyed agreement. She reached toward the vid screen, depressing a button that would open the link she had already established to Sickbay. "Dr. McCoy," she said.

"McCoy here," came the voice of the ship's Chief Medical Officer.

"I've completed my analysis," she said. "Please inform the captain that I am prepared to testify that Norman, and if he is representative of his people, all the androids, do possess the quality of sentience."

Norman's face acquired an expression of pleased surprise.

"That was quick," McCoy snorted.

"When a being is truly sentient, it becomes obvious relatively quickly," she replied, then let her eyes twinkle at Spock. "At least, in most species."

"Will do, Jade," McCoy chuckled, and Jade again depressed the button, this time truly cutting off the link. She rose from her seat, ignoring Spock's disconcerted near-frown.

"Norman, someone from Security will see to accommodations for you and your people while I discuss my findings with the captain and a course of action is decided upon," she told the android.

"Pardon me, Jade, but should not such a discussion include me and my people?" Norman asked.

She smiled. "And that was the final test question. But I can't make that determination. Mr. Spock will, I'm sure, point that out to the captain."

"Indeed," was the Vulcan's response and he, too, rose from his chair. "I am pleased for you and your people, Norman."

"I thank you for providing a comparison similar to my own intelligence and manner, Mr. Spock," the android acknowledged, not-quite-wryly.

Again the Vulcan's eyebrow rose, and again Jade smiled.

"Sentient machines?" Lieutenant Dyson commented as he and his chief reported to Dr. Han's therapy room. "Don't know if I can wrap my head around that one, Chief."

Paget shrugged. "Humans are essentially organic machines, Lieutenant," he returned. "The brain is the CPU, the heart and lungs the power supply, other organs processing units, muscles and arteries conduits..." He shrugged again. "And we're supposedly sentient."

Dyson grinned. "You got a weird way of looking at things."

Jeremy grinned back. "So I've been told." He hit the door buzzer, and stepped into the room on Dr. Han's call of "Come."

"Mr. Paget, escort Norman to the rest of his people, and see to suitable accommodations for them," Spock said.

Jeremy took a surreptitious glance at Jade's innovation. He was a little surprised at the décor - he'd been expecting more of a traditional Freudian office look, one with an imposing desk and the ubiquitous analyst's couch. This was much more in keeping with how a Jungian would approach therapy. He nodded to himself, adding the information to his mental file on Dr. Han. "What constitutes 'suitable' in this situation, Mr. Spock?" he asked.

The Vulcan turned to the android. "Mr. Norman?"

"We need little in the way of amenities," Norman responded.

"Might I suggest the Security Lounge, sir?" Paget offered.

"That will be acceptable," the android said, "though, I assure you, we have no need of supervision."

Jeremy grinned disarmingly. "It's not that. The Security Lounge is the only area of the ship that has enough seats, barring the mess hall, and you wouldn't be disturbed by a constant parade of crewmembers." He noted but didn't react to Jade's nod of approval.

"But we desire to interact with other beings," Norman explained.

"After I confer with the Captain, Norman," Dr. Han put in, "I'm sure that can be arranged. For now, if you will accompany Mr. Paget?"

Norman nodded, and Jeremy gestured to the door. "After you, sir," he said.

As he fell in step behind the android, Jade said suddenly, "What do you think of my innovation, Mr. Paget?"

"Looks like my mama's sitting room," he tossed off over his shoulder.

"And is that a good thing?" the doctor insisted.

"For sittin' yeah," Jeremy grinned, still walking.

"And for therapy?"

The TerAfrican stopped, turning back to face her. "How would I know? Unless, Doctor, you're suggestin' I need some?" He made sure his face was as simultaneously bland and as anxious as any red-shirt's would have been at such a thought. He kept the expression, even while feeling Jade's keen gaze attempting to bore a hole into his skull.

"Just gathering opinions," Mr. Paget," she said at last.

Jeremy sighed in clear relief. "Well, I'd certainly be comfortable talkin' here - if I had anything note-worthy to say." He gave his best, 'dumb red-shirt' grin. "But I hope you won't take offense if I say I hope I never have to."

"Of course not," Jade returned, with her best bedside-manner smile.

"So they're sentient," McCoy said as Spock walked into his office. "What the hell do we do with that?"

"First off, Harry can't sell them," Jim said, motioning the First Officer to take a seat. "So that solves one of our problems."

"Sorry I don't have a straight-backed interrogation chair," McCoy quipped. Spock ignored him, sitting down in the standard Fleet chair.

"But it means we must find some place for them to be," the Vulcan replied to his captain. "And that their needs must be taken into account."

"If we can trust Harry's assessment, the primary thing they want is to interact with other sentient races."

McCoy made a disgruntled sound. "Can they be trusted not to imprison other people like they imprisoned us?"

"If they are granted free access to such interaction, there would be no need," Spock answered.

"But we still have to find out if the rest of 'em are as sentient as Norman, don't we?"

"Mr. Paget is providing a testing ground for just that evaluation," Jim said. "He and his people will interact in the Security Lounge, and we'll be able to monitor it."

"Good thinkin' Jim," McCoy approved.

"I believe," Spock rejoined, "that there is a further potential difficulty that must be addressed." Both Humans glanced at him, Jim with alert attention, McCoy with a frown. "Once they have tired of simple interaction - which, as they are sentient beings, they must - they will begin to want something to do. If we are to avoid a race of bored, potentially limitless hive-minded beings, we must have some solution in place to offer them."

"Well, that's potentially easy," Jim said with a wry smile. "They like to work. They were apparently quite content to labor in the off-world mines here, or in military construction."

"But, Captain, as has been pointed out, the Gwindians don't want them."

"Let's examine that, Spock," Jim went on. "The Auroras Retainers certainly don't want them on Gwindias itself - but would they object if the androids were confined off-world? The government doesn't want them to interfere with their progress toward economic stability - but if they were to increase production of the planet's needed resources, that would actually be a help to economic stability. Without the total control over them that the Fourth Majestic Brigade actually wanted, they'd be no threat to the government, but could be the beneficiary of the increased economic prosperity..." He held up a hand, forestalling Spock's protest. "...and we wouldn't be interfering in Gwindian internal politics."

"But as sentient beings, they would have to receive a fair living wage," the Vulcan put in.

"But how much do they need?" McCoy asked. "They don't eat or drink, they don't sleep, all they'd want was the tools and equipment to repair and replicate themselves."

"I think, Bones, that's something they would need to negotiate with their employers."

"They are essentially children, Captain," Spock reminded, "and could be unfairly taken advantage of..."

"Which is why they'd need someone to negotiate for them," Jim answered. He grinned. "And I can think of no better race to do that than the Havens."

Spock nodded, his eyebrow rising in agreement. "And the Havens would then provide another race with which they could interact. An excellent idea, Jim."

"Thank you, Spock," the captain returned with another smile. He stood. "So, pending the outcome of the total evaluation of the androids, I think we have our solution."

"What about Harry?" McCoy asked.

"Him we let the Federation authorities deal with."

The Esthers, the Yolandas, and the Marthas were charming the heck out of most of the Security personnel that wandered in and out of the lounge. The Harolds and the Percys were friendly and inquisitive and unfailingly polite, turning on their own brand of charm when female Security officers were present. Jeremy watched the interactions from his office, noting that Norman behaved like a natural leader - keeping an eye on the others, but not intruding on their conversations except when either called upon or when a situation seemed to be causing some confusion among his people. He reminded Jeremy a great deal of how Sulu had described Spock during his second year as captain. After about half an hour, Jeremy was completely convinced that these androids were indeed sentient - and they had a youthful innocence and naivete that recalled that of Indiians. Well, they are a young race, he mused wryly. They'll toughen up with the realities of life as they grow as a species.

He checked on his other monitor, that of Harry Mudd in the brig. Mudd hadn't been happy about being taken there, but Jeremy didn't trust the large man as far as he could throw him - which actually might have been pretty far. But after having protested the treatment, Mudd had settled into a very relaxed posture. He was even humming. Paget figured that was because he'd been rescued from a potentially very bad situation into one that, while might not prove to be much better, was at least familiar.

He was expecting Jade Han's visit to his office, but she had decided either to stop baiting him, or that the evaluation of the androids was more important - at least temporarily. He had no doubts that she suspected his other profession, but was determined not to give her any unnecessary clues and certainly no confirmation. In a perverse way, he was hoping to gain some insight into her personality by observing how she observed his. He would have loved to have a rip-roaring debate about the merits of Freudianism - few and far between in his book - and that of the Jungian approach, but filed that under 'maybe someday' in his head. For now, it was interesting to catalogue her reactions. And he didn't forget that one of the reasons he'd been posted here was to do just that. Of course, he also reminded himself, that's supposed to be confined to her alleged bias regarding the Captain, but why let an opportunity go to waste?

He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "Analysis, Dr. Han?" he asked, doing a little baiting of his own.

"Well, your people know they're androids," she replied, folding her arms, "but the fact that they act and react normally seems to indicate that the androids' behavior is such that they forget it fairly rapidly. That would argue strongly for their sentience." She gave him a quick glance. "Wouldn't you agree?"

He shrugged. "Well, I can't speak to the clinical definition of sentience," he said, "but they certainly seem to get along with everybody." He noted her small frown and grinned to himself. "So the diagnosis is...?"

"The diagnosis is that I have to write to the Federation and the Surgeon General and report a First Contact with a new species," she answered. Then she gave him a sweet smile. "Would you care to help with that?"

"Sure," he agreed, then added, "I can give the Security concerns."

"That would be most helpful, Commander," she returned, and her delivery was just dry enough that he wasn't sure if there was the satisfaction in her tone that he suspected.

The Haven ambassador was only too happy to provide his services - for, of course, a commensurate fee. He told Jim that the Leather could be at Gwindias within the week. Jim and Spock carefully explained their idea to Secretary Aldil, Master Ovil, General Ekad and Minister Renna. It was simply put: The Government and the Auroras Retainers didn't like the androids, but the fear of self-replication was a moot point since the materials they would need for that weren't available on Gwindias. The only way to get the needed materials was to grow the economy to the point where it could support out-of-system mining and production operations in nearby star systems - and the androids could help provide the necessary technology for that endeavor, which would further improve the Gwindian economy. Jim pointed out that the Fourth Majestic Brigade and the GGC needed to invest in the CURRENT structures and economy in order to get those materials and the potential benefits they had both been willing to pay for. And since the androids were sentient, there need be no concern that either the Brigade or the corporations would have any kind of monopoly on them or their advanced technology. The Auroras Retainers reluctantly agreed to go along it, providing the androids were all going to be elsewhere. The gains to the Fourth Majestic Brigade, which had been investing in military hardware, were obvious, the prevention of a monopoly assuring that the Government would receive the same gains. It had the added benefit of forcing the Brigade, the Government, and the corporations into an alliance: they would all get increased technology or none of them would. Secretary Aldil made the concession that since all the androids would be off-world, they could help create a space-based defense force, which would not only protect the Government against further Brigade coups, but could actually integrate the military into the Government, instead of opposing them.

Once the conditions were agreed to, Jim took the offer to Norman, explaining that the Havens would be negotiating for the new android people. After Norman had used the Enterprise's library to learn about how Havens dealt, and after consulting with the others, he readily agreed. He and his people would begin their new lives as workers for the Gwindians. It was, he said, an adequate beginning.

When the ship that had been in hidden orbit behind one of Gwindian's moons appeared on the Enterprise's sensors, there was some consternation: Far from being the 'small' ship Mudd had alluded to, this was an enormous freighter, with clearly enough room to hold the entire population of the android planet. Spock raised an impressed eyebrow, and asked Norman from where they had appropriated it. Norman tilted his head, the light at his chest blinking.

Then he gave a very small smile. "I am instructed to inform you, Commander Spock, that that is proprietary information."

Jim frowned, and Spock said, "That is the prerogative of any race, Jim."

"I suppose it is," Kirk sighed. "Norman, will you and your people be comfortable aboard that ship until the Havens arrive to conduct negotiations?"

"Quite, Captain," Norman replied, then paused. "Will Harry be joining us?"

"It'd serve him right, Jim," McCoy muttered.

Jim hesitated. The temptation was truly great - but imaging the havoc Mudd could wreak within the android population - not to mention how he might be greeted by the Havens - and the fact that it was contrary to his assigned mission gave him the only answer possible.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "Harry has a few things he has to answer to the Federation for."

Norman nodded. "I understand, Captain," he said. "Still, it is a pity. We like Harry."

"You sure they're sentient?" McCoy asked and while Jim laughed and Spock sighed, Normal tilted his head.

Finally, the android said, "Ah, a humorous reference to the fact that Harry is considered a trouble-maker, and no one in his right mind would enjoy his company." He smiled again. "I understand. Most amusing, Doctor." His attempt at his own laughter was stilted at first, then began to flow much more naturally. He then said his goodbyes, and headed to the transporter room to join his people and return to their ship.

When he had gone, McCoy said, "They still learn fast, Jim."

"Maybe too fast," Jim agreed. "I only hope we haven't created a Frankenstein."

"Frankenstein was the name of the doctor, Captain," Spock put in. "The monster never had a proper designation." And he glanced pointedly at McCoy.

"Don't you start with me, you green-blooded..." the Human began.

Jim held up his hands. "Gentlemen, please. It's been a long day. And..." he said with a look that brooked no arguments, "Spock and I have an unfinished conversation to get back to."

They retired not to Jim's office but to the mess hall, both McCoy and Jim stating they were starving after the 'long day.' Once there, Jade joined them to get their input on her report to the Surgeon General. McCoy cackled, calling it "a little obvious, Jade, honey," and Jim flushed at the too-direct reference to the tapes that had been inadvertently sent to the psychologist so many years before. Jeremy Paget was seated at another table, drinking coffee, clearly relaxing from his long day.

"So, you were starting to tell me something about the mission on Haddor," Jim began when he and McCoy had finished their meals.

Spock shifted in his seat.

"It's always easier to just rip the bandage off," Jade said quietly, and the Vulcan nodded stiffly.

"Ruth was forced to use the final setting of a hand phaser against another sentient being," he began, his voice as quiet as Jade's had been.

Jeremy's ears perked up, though he made no outward show of eavesdropping. He'd been wondering how he was going to hear Spock's interrupted explanation, and gave thanks to Jesus for the fortunate coincidence. It was difficult to hear the First Officer's voice, but he focused his concentration, giving, of course, no indication that he was listening at all.

"This person was in physical contact with me," Spock was saying, "and had some form of personal shield which prevented any lower setting from affecting him. I was able to feel the residual effects from Ruth's attempts to use the lower settings, and through Vulcan disciplines, shielded myself from the increasing results. My attempt was enough to keep my physical functions intact when he died, but all else was lost in aftershock. I know I returned to the ship, I know I gave orders for dealing with the situation; I do not know how." The Vulcan paused, then took a slow breath. "I learned much later that Ruth had cried out to me for aid in dealing with the horror such a thing inflicted on her psyche. I did not hear her. I did not respond." Another pause. "I am told I gave Sulu some order which prevented him from going to her aid. Noel DelMonde was at the transporter. Ruth's..." A third pause. Only one who knew Spock very well - or a trained psychologist - could have detected the reason. "...emptiness called to his imperfectly shielded empathy. He did respond."

Jeremy held his breath waiting for Spock to continue. He didn't. The uncomfortable silence was broken not by Kirk, but by Dr. McCoy's deeply caring voice.

"She ended up in bed with him, Jim," he said.

"Ruth?" came the incredulous, dumbfounded response. Then, "Well, I can certainly understand the situation...."

"It wasn't only the one time," Dr. Han put in softly.

"What?! "

"She had an affair with the boy." Jeremy could hear the snarl in McCoy's reply. "Hell, her husband had deserted her, here was someone who cared about her, who she could care about... They were lovers once before, y'know!"

"Leonard, no one's blaming..." Han began, her tone conciliatory.

"Wait, wait!" Kirk broke in. "Let me have some time to think!" That sounded a little ragged, a little panicked. Jeremy frowned. "Jade... I think I need to talk to you. Excuse me, gentlemen."

Jeremy cracked his eyes open as Kirk and Han walked past him to another table.

"Now see what you did!" McCoy's voice hissed behind Jeremy.

"What I did, Doctor?" Spock returned.

"I tried to tell you he wasn't ready!"

"He was inquiring, and insistent, and as Dr. Han indicated, there was no plausible or productive manner in which to procrastinate further..."

"Speak Anglo sometimes, will ya?"

Jeremy turned his attention from the now-quite-usual bantering exchange to Kirk and Han.

"What is it, James?" Jade asked softly. His reaction was far stronger than she had expected, and his agitation was giving her no clues to the reason.

"I - I don't know how to react," Jim said, his voice quaking. "Part of me wants to deck him, part of me wants to deck her, part of me wants to throw DelMonde out an airlock...." He took a shaky breath "... and none of that is what a captain should do!"

"Your reactions are perfectly normal, James," she began. "This is quite a shock to you, you're fond of all the parties involved..."

"And that's fine for any other man," Jim interrupted. "But I'm not any other man. I'm the captain of this ship and I don't... I don't know..."

"Have your reactions, first of all," Jade said calmly. "Trying to deny what you feel is a pattern you've worked through. There's no immediate decision to be made, so allow yourself the time to process the information." She gently took his hand. "I understand that it feels like an emergency situation, but it's not. There really is nothing Captain Kirk needs to do, other than assess how you'll deal with the repercussions of the situation in the future." She smiled sadly. "Even though it's new for you, they have all worked it out..."

"When DelMonde is clearly still brooding about it..." Jim began.

"That's his psychological problem." Jade broke in. "He blames Spock for pushing Ruth to him, he blames Ruth for deciding to end the affair once you were found and Spock could tell her of his devil's bargain with Fleet." She shook her head. "I can't understand why Fleet thought it would be a good idea to reassign him here - except for the bone-headed way Medical sometimes tries to force 'resolution' on those clearly not ready for it. Your only obligation as captain in all of this is to evaluate them both on their performance as crew. What you do as Spock's friend doesn't have to figure into the equation at all." She took a breath. "And I think, James, that he'll understand your initial anger at him - and at Ruth." She gave a wry smile. "And I seriously doubt he'll mind your anger at DelMonde."

Jim was staring into her eyes. His breathing had slowed, his panic receding. "So he's still brooding about it, too," he said at last.

"I wouldn't use that word with him," she suggested dryly.

Jim snorted. "No, I don't think I will." He took a long slow breath, then exhaled forcefully. "Thank you, Doctor. I needed your insight and your perspective."

She smiled. "That is one of the reasons I'm here, James."

He grinned back. "One of, Jade?"

"I'm trusting you retain enough of your own insight to figure out the rest, Captain."

His grip tightened warmly on her fingers. "Jim," he said.

"James," she replied.

They lingered like that, gazing into each other's eyes, for what might have been seen as far too long a time.

When they returned to Spock and McCoy, and Jim began an intense but calm questioning of Spock's perceptions of all that had happened after the beginning of the affair, Jeremy continued taking notes, but it didn't seem all that necessary. Jade Han was giving the captain exactly what he needed - and that was all Jeremy was going to say in his report to Admiral Baker regarding the concerns of bias. As to any concern for Jim Kirk's return to the captaincy, Paget knew he'd only have positive things to say about that as well.

He only wished he could be as positive about Commander Spock and Noel DelMonde serving together.

He finished his coffee and sauntered out of the mess hall. A Federation transport was on its way for Harry Mudd, and there wasn't anything else that required his attention until it arrived.

And he had an appointment with Commander Uhura.

The End