Rosie woke the next morning feeling as if she hadn't slept at all. It had been like spending the night alone in the universe's most impersonal hotel room: comfortable enough to be vaguely unsettling. At least she had known where she was this time, but there was little comfort in that.

She sat up blearily, gazing around the room in the half-light of day and remembering Lt. Sulu - Hikaru- telling her how the ship was programmed to mimic the "Tehran" day, to help maintain everyone's circadian rhythm.

What a weird house this was. It's like being in the future, Rosie thought sardonically, pushing the covers aside and setting her bare feet on the chilly floor. Passing over to where she had dropped her clothes the night before, too tired to fold them up and stow them pathetically into one of the empty dresser drawers. Putting herself back into the same ill-fitting, Starfleet-issue black shirt and pants, she noticed a neat stack of things placed in the desk beside the wall.

Her own belongings, taken by in the Med-bay.

Jeans. White T-shirt. Forest green college sweatshirt. Those three items, along with the socks, underwear, and ratty navy converse she had kept, were all she had left of herself.

Rosie turned on her heels and walked out the door.

Rosie managed to find her way back to the mess hall without getting lost. There were a handful of people there, but no one was talking much, which was a blessing.

Apparently, there was more skill to using the replicators than she originally thought, Rosie mused sourly; her scrambled eggs looked distinctly dry, and she hadn't been able to figure out how to get sugar in her tea.

She found a seat alone and tried to look as if she belonged there. She had not regained the boyancy of last night's meal, and it was hard not to think about her parents back home. Her stomach turned uncomfortably; she know their already rocky marriage was never going to survive this. Would have never? Is that how this time travel thing worked? Could she find out what had happened?

Rosie was dangerously close to losing what little breakfast she had managed to eat when her train of thought was forced off the track by the arrival of Cmdr. Spock.

Typical.

He greeted her politely, hands clasped firmly behind his back, and commanded more than requested she follow him.

Hence the title, Rosie fumed silently.

The two walked in uncomfortable silence down a maze of corridors and halted in front of a nondescript door.

"Normally, your initial education at the Academy would consist of predominantly theoretical training. However, given the current situation, I have designed a curriculum that will allow you to take advantage of your environment and experience both classroom and - to use the medical vernacular- clinical learning.

"A Starfleet ship such as the Enterprise has three shifts: alpha, beta, and gamma. Monday through Thursday you will spend alpha with one of the senior crew members, and then beta with Dr. McCoy. Friday and alpha of Saturday will also be spent in med-bay. Do you have any questions?"

He had seemed to add this last sentence as an afterthought, but Rosie didn't even know what she didn't know, so she shook her head.

"Excellent." And, without any further preamble, he turned smartly on his heels and opened the door at his side.

Rosie managed not to gasp, but the bridge of the Enterprise certainly was impressive.

Capt. Kirk greeted Rosie warmly then directed her to a jump seat between Hikaru and Pavel, a veritable jumble of flashing lights and twinkling screens in front of her. Rosie must have visibly blanched as she settles herself in, because Hikaru leaned towards her.

"Don't worry; it's perfectly safe! We're going to tell you exactly what to do."

"And if we suddenly get attached or somezing, zen someone else will take over," Pavel added reassuringly.

"Is that likely to happen?"

"Hopefully not," the Captain chimed in, unhelpfully.

Rosie took a deep breath and grumpy muttered a last-ditch attempt at reassurance:

"YOLO."