"You can't imagine how delighted I was when I learned that you'd applied for the academy," the director says as she leads me down a corridor. She gestures toward a door and we step into her office.

I drop my away bag on to the floor. The rest of my belongings will be arriving in a day or two, but everything that is important to me is in that small bag.

As we take our seats, I read the identification plaque on the corner of her desk: Admiral Marie Calavarri. I've heard some stories about how she is the most ridged evaluator to get past. Her record of rejecting applicants is so much higher than any other current member of the board that she has been dubbed "Iron Maiden" by many of the students. Some applicants get easily passed the other five board members only to have the Maiden metaphorically rip up their application.

I sit before her now, my fate in her hands. And she is telling me how delighted she is to have me here.

As she brings up my file on her monitor and scrolls through the information, I fidget with my hands. I try desperately not to appear nervous, but know I'm failing miserably.

"Everything seems to be in order," she says with a quick glance at me. Am I sensing agitation from her as well? "I'm assigning you to a room in the south building. You'll have only one roommate. I'm afraid that's the best I can do at this time."

"You mean, you're approving my application?" I lean forward, my mouth wide in shock over the suddenness of this. And why is she concerned about my having a roommate? Don't all first-year cadets bunk with one or two others?

"Approval of your application was never in question."

"May I ask why not?"

The admiral's responding smile is pleasant, belying her appellation. Yet it does not soften the blow her words deal to me. "Because of your involvement with The Q."

"Quite frankly Admiral, I don't want to be judged based on my interaction with a so-called superior race."

"You of all people should be aware that one does not simply interact with The Q. Since a very early age, you've demonstrated superior intellect. Your accomplishments while under the tutelage of Commander Data are outstanding. Your active involvement with the Enterprise crew...."

"But that was all possible because of what Q did to me!"

"Does it matter whether you inherited your intellect from your parents or as a gift from Q? How ever your abilities originated, they have become your own merits."

"That's true," I admit. I only hope that my fellow cadets will be as open to me as Calavarri.

Reaching into her top desk drawer, the admiral removes a small data padd and sets it in front of me. "This data padd contains your room number and access code. You will also find your first semester schedule. It's all fairly routine, though I've allowed you to enrol in advanced Calculus after reviewing your test scores. I assure you that most cadets have junior or senior standing in that class and that it has a first-time fail rate of nearly fifty percent. I am confident you will do well."

"How reassuring," I mutter.

"Welcome to Starfleet Academy, Shannara Rozhenko." She stands and extends a hand out to me.

I accept it and wonder what fate I am sealing.

Shuttles are accessible to cadets to travel from one end of campus to another, but I elect to walk my first time to my quarters. I want to become familiar with the sites and the people. Hopefully, San Francisco will accept me, because it is to be my home for the next few years.

A wide sidewalk encircles every building, every monument, and anything else that can be perceived as a worthy landmark. I stop along the way to study some of them, finding the one dedicated to Zephram Cochrane the most fascinating. His statue has stood at the center of the Starfleet Academy grounds since its first year. However, that is not what holds my interest. Some years ago, more was learned about the history of the inventor of warp drive and a second plaque, stating his love of "rock n roll" and tequila, was mounted.

I had not realized how big the Academy grounds are. By the time I reach the south section, I am exhausted. My away bag, although small, has become quite a burden and I entertain thoughts of taking a nap as I step into the building.

I find my room with little trouble and enter my access code. Immediately, I am assaulted by the music resonating throughout the room. So much for taking a nap. A blonde is lying on one of the beds, turned away from me. I doubt she is even aware of my arrival. How can she tolerate such an ear-splitting volume? And worse, will I have to tolerate it every night? I can't imagine attempting to concentrate on homework to this noise. Maybe I can go back to Calavarri and request a new room assignment. I think there's a good chance she'd consider my request, since she obviously believes I'm her star pupil.

I drop my away bag just inside the door. My stuff can be put away later. Right now, it is time to introduce myself to my new roommate and to set a few ground rules between us. Once I instruct the computer to lower the volume, the blonde whirls around. I notice the identifying ridge marks of a Bajoran on her nose. "I didn't expect you so soon!" she says.

The note of familiarity in her voice is not lost on my ears. What type of reception do I have to look forward to as I meet other fellow cadets? Instructors? Not for the first time, I wish I could be one of the ordinary multitude . Someone who could enter a room without any preconceived notions from every stranger.

"Classes start on Tuesday," I counter as I step closer to her. "That only gives us a couple of days to settle down and become familiar with the Academy. And each other," I added as an afterthought. "I hope you don't mind that I turned your music down. Quite frankly, I don't know how you can think with it so loud."

"Maybe I don't want to think." She shrugs. "I'll play it lower if it pleases you."

"Yes, I will accept that compromise." Actually, at a lower volume I find the music quite pleasing. I'm a little reluctant to tell her this. Why give her a reason to feel this argument has ended in anything more than a stalemate? "I'm Shannara Rozhenko."

"I know that. The board brought me into a meeting this morning to let me know who my roommate would be and to discuss proper protocol. I couldn't believe they'd chosen me to bunk with you! I-I don't know how I'm supposed to act around you. Kind of embarrassing, but I was hoping they'd deem me an unsuitable roommate for you."

"Proper protocol? What's the big deal? I'm not some goddess that everyone should be worshiping. I'm just a living, breathing mortal like everyone else here at Starfleet Academy."

"Are you kidding? I hear you've been to the Continuum."

"So what! Everything I've ever done with the Continuum, every time Q has popped into my life, I've been forced into becoming an active participant in some game of their's that has probably been going on for millennia. Quite honestly, I'd just like to live a normal life for a change....without Q and without any special abilities."

She stares at me for an awkward and long moment. Resisting the urge to probe her mind, I remind myself of the promises I have made both to my Mother and to myself. I will learn from this girl what she is willing to share.

"I was under the impression that you spend all your time with data padds and tricorders. How is that trying to live a normal teenager's life?"

"Maybe you shouldn't prejudge people," I counter. "Just because I had my own private tutor for several years doesn't mean I want to spend all my time studying."

She sighs heavily. "Good! I don't think I could have handled a goddess for a roommate anyway." She smiles broadly and the air between us begins to lighten. "I haven't told you my name yet...It's Les Rhiannon."

"Good to meet you, Rhiannon." Maybe I can learn to like this girl, I decide. "So what is this music you're listening to? I suppose it's not bad after hearing it for a while," I confess.

"You've never heard of it!" Her shock, though short-lived, is palpable on her face. "I'm sorry. I just thought that someone purported to have as high an IQ and educational background...."

"Would be familiar with every form of music from *every* culture in the galaxy?"

The wrinkles on her nose appear to grow deeper. "Okay, so I'm being a bit naive. Of course, you don't know everything. It's Moch Derial, one of my favorites. He's a Bajoran composer from about two hundred years ago. I listen to him to help me relax. I was extremely nervous about meeting you." She giggles, and I sense relief coming from her. "Just be forewarned, if you're going to be my roommate, you'll become very familiar with him and a few other Bajoran musicians in a relatively short time."

"I'm always open to broadening my education." I consider again her earlier accusation that I only find learning fun. We have two days before our first class begins, and I intend to fully convince this Bajoran girl that I do see the value of entertainment. "So, what do first-year cadets do for excitement around here?"

My roommate grins wickedly and rolls off the bed, landing on her feet. "If you're serious," she begins, coming toward me, "I have a game I'd like to teach you." She scrutinizes my appearance, a black and white jumpsuit...my normal wear. I find them comfortable. "But you'll need to slip into something sexy first." She grasps me by the shoulders and whirls me around to face a mirror. Playing with my hair, she asks, "Can't you see the beautiful woman inside there?"

All I see is a tired, half-breed Klingon staring back at me. Pulling away from her, I say, "I'm not sure I'm suited for this game of yours."

"Nonsense! Many of the male cadets find Klingon females quite alluring."

Now I'm the one nervous.