Newly promoted to full rank Lieutenant, Crewmaster Kimberly Cloke felt ready to pull all of her hair out. Everything on Deep Space Thirteen had gone wrong. Half of the crew had arrived before environmental safety checks were complete, meaning tripled quarters assignments. When complaints of crowded rooms stopped flooding in, Kim had to contend with outrage over the lost supplies. Misdirected luggage and furnishings proved the cause of a terrible headache and Kim made the mistake of going to sickbay.

"What do you want?" a grumpy voice demanded.

Fumbling for a reply, Kimberly struggled to remember the doctor's name. "Doctor Kempton?"

"Yes?" he emerged from behind a partition, "what do you want?"

"I'm sorry to bother you," she thought it best to suffer the headache in silence, "is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" his sarcasm made her cringe, "Why should anything be wrong? I have no staff, no equipment, my wife and children are sharing a room with a Klingon and two dogs, and I've got a hypochondriac who demands twenty-four hour attention. How could the day be more perfect?"

Resisting the incredible urge to punch Doctor Kempton in the mouth, Kim thought of three different ways this man could improve his situation. Clearly, she thought, he'd rather complain. "Why don't you bring your family in here?" she suggested, "since sickbay isn't open yet they could use this space and perhaps give you some assistance organizing."

Greg Kempton made a disapproving face.

"Consider it quality time," Kim's patience ebbed away, "children can use all the lessons in responsibility they can get," she looked around the sparse room, "I can't get your staff here any quicker and you'll have to speak with Commander Giovanni about the equipment. But maybe I can help with the hypochondriac."

"I highly doubt that."

Kimberly decided that she hated the doctor. "Would you at least tell me who it is?"

"Vester Olsen," a disembodied and muffled voice answered.

"Resident architect?" the lieutenant followed the sound and found a man cowering in a dim corner behind a biobed, "Vester Olsen assigned here to maintain structural safety and-"

"Environmental integrity," he finished, looking up at her with troubled eyes, "yes, that would be me."

"He's claustrophobic," Kempton showed the courtesy of keeping his voice low.

"Really?" Kim knelt beside the unfortunate fellow, feeling a tinge of sympathy. "Mr. Olsen, I hate to burden you with this, but-"

"If you'd finish doing the safety rounds," Kempton prodded, using a much gentler tone than he had greeted the crewmaster with, "people could move into their proper quarters."

Kimberly appreciated the fact that the doctor could at least manage an adequate bedside manner, but she wished he would find another solution.

"Perhaps someone else could complete the rounds," she proposed, "and Mr. Olsen could leave on the next transport."

"We went over that already," the doctor's mood improved now that he had help, "his employer won't allow for modifications in his contract. He has to work here for a year."

"Uuuuooooohhhhh," Vester moaned, sickened further by being reminded of his present situation. He was underground! Trapped and buried underground on an airless moon. Anything could go wrong. His expertise in his field told him that with every certainty. The structure could cave in, crushing them beneath building material and stone. The slightest crack could cause a rupture that would expose them to the barren environment of the moon. Oh, what was he doing here?! Refusing the job meant unemployment... but right now unemployment didn't sound too bad. Vester would have given anything to be on any class-M planet.

To Greg Kempton's credit, he really did wish to help. Even though the architect's failure to complete the rounds was causing the whole station difficulty, he offered, "I could find Counsellor Sorenson."

"The comm system's down again," Kim told him wearily.

"That's all right," his willingness surprised her, "I'll go room to room."

On his way out he met chief of security Clair Hull.

"Seen the crewmaster?" Hull asked, sweat running down her face.

"As a matter of fact, she's in there."

"Thanks," the athletic Lt. Commander ducked into sickbay, "Lt. Cloke?"

"Yes?"

"Subspace communication for you," she seemed in a hurry, "The panel in Giovanni's office is the only one that's working."

Kim patted Vester on the shoulder and headed for the door, "Who is it?"

"I don't know," Clair smiled, "I'm just running messages until they get the comm system up, they didn't give me details. Seen Ensign Nuffer lately?"

"I've never seen him at all."

"On my own then," Hull took off at a quick jog.

Kim found Giovanni's office empty and sat down at the desk. She keyed in the comm sequence and found herself staring at Hank Povey, a fencing master scheduled to host an upcoming tournament. Kim had first been delighted to find DS13 a major hub of sports events - until she found herself in charge of those events.

"Povey, what can I do for you?"

"I'm sorry Lieutenant, but I won't make it to the tournament. Some problem with the ship, we've taken a thirty hour stop for repairs or some such nonsense."

Kim rubbed her temples, studying the image of the old gentleman, "But Povey, thirty hours won't make any difference. The tournament next week."

"No it's not," he shook his head, with a slight frown, "it's tomorrow."

Forgetting the headache, Kim stared at him, "What-"

"Lieutenant," Commander Giovanni appeared in the doorway, "three groups have just arrived for the tournament scheduled for next week. Would you like to explain?"

Kim looked to Povey and then to Giovanni and back again. She wanted to go hide in sickbay with Vester. First Officer Lalonde arrived and tapped Giovanni on the shoulder, "Commander? I found the mistake-"

"It's my fault," Kimberly interrupted, addressing her commanding officers and Mr. Povey, "I must have entered it wrong into the station's event schedule." She took a deep breath, preparing to take the responsibility and repair the damage, "Mr. Povey, thank you for contacting me. We'll provide a replacement for you. I hope you can make it to our next tournament."

"Of course," he nodded, "good luck to you."

Kim thanked him and signed off. She stood and left the desk, "Commander, I'm very sorry about this."

Giovanni did not appear angry, "We all make mistakes Lieutenant."

Kim was embarrassed and furious with herself. Everyone else could make mistakes, but she, Kimberly Cloke, could not afford such luxury.

"If we could get the rest of the station cleared on safety checks," Lalonde put in helpfully, "it would probably work out all right."

Kim nodded reluctantly, thinking of Vester Olsen huddled in sickbay. "I don't suppose either of you could oversee a fencing tournament?"

They returned equally blank looks.

"Do you know if any of the senior staff has a background in traditional fencing?" Kim grew desperate. She was a beginning fencer herself, but doubted she could pull off the event alone.

"The security chief might," Lalonde offered, deftly rebraiding the tip of her long mane of hair, "I know she requested a posting here because of the athletic programs."

"First things first," Giovanni took over, "we have got to get quarters for all these people. Are the final safety inspections underway?"

"Mr. Olsen is..." Kim hoped to explain without making the poor man look bad, "is... having... some personal, uh, problems."

The Commander didn't seem satisfied by that answer, so Kim added, "He's claustrophobic."

"You're kidding!" Lalonde could not help herself. Seeing the pained expression on Giovanni's face, the first officer said, "Isn't Mr. Martinez qualified to carry out the inspections?"

Kim shook her head. "I considered him already. And Lt. Michaels."

"We cannot molly-coddle Mr. Olsen," Giovanni stated firmly, "if he is unable to do his job then we will have to insist on his release."

"Maybe we could forego the last inspection," Lalonde supposed, "after all, people have been working here for weeks with no trouble."

Maria Giovanni shook her head, "It's the civilians.

Starfleet demands double inspections on their behalf."

"I'll speak with him," Kim edged towards the door, wanting to insist on her own release. Before she could get across the threshold, someone barged in.

"Commander Giovanni!" a tall, gangling fellow with a blond ponytail strode into the room. "I was told I would be the senior science officer! What do you take me for?"

"A lieutenant," Giovanni answered wryly, cursing Starfleet for sticking her with Abner Michaels.

"Well- I- this- !!" Abner spluttered indignantly.

Kim and Lalonde retreated into the hallway, the first officer struggling to repress a grin.

"Don't you just hate important people?" Kim muttered aside.

The little Bajoran officer snickered and Abner paused in the middle of his whining.

"Hey!" his lanky frame twisted to shout after them, "I heard that! How dare you-"

Luckily the door shut and he did not pursue the two women. Lalonde offered to speak with Clair Hull regarding the tournament and Kimberly thanked her profusely. They parted and the tired crewmaster returned to sickbay. She found the situation had not improved.

"I can't find Counsellor Sorenson," the doctor threw his hands in the air in hopeless gesture.

"Can't you give him a reaction inhibitor?"

"Inhibitors are only short-term solutions," Kempton sighed, "besides which, he's allergic to all but one of them."

"So, use that one."

"We don't have any in stock yet."

Kimberly closed her eyes. At the very end of her patience, which had not been very long to begin with, she approached Vester.

"Mr. Olsen?"

"Yes?" he answered pitifully.

"Commander Giovanni intends to terminate your contract unless you finish the safety rounds today."

He didn't answer.

"Shall I contact the supply ship and arrange transport back to Earth for you?"

"I'll lose my job," he spoke to the floor.

"You'll lose your job anyway," she growled, surprising herself by grabbing him and hauling him up. He offered no protest and reluctantly stood as she went on, "come with me and I will help you finish the inspections. After that you can leave for Earth or come hide in here or go stark raving mad - but first you're coming with me."

Greg Kempton got out of their way as the two left. Vester looked miserable as Kim dragged him out the door, but at least he was moving. Halfway down the corridor Clair Hull caught up with them.

"Good news Lieutenant!" the security chief greeted, slowing her jog down to a brisk walk.

"I could use some."

"The station's athletic director is supposed to arrive within the hour," Hull held up a padd, "it says here he has an extensive background in fencing. He should be coming on the transport ship Portland with the majority of our supplies."

"Let's hope they aren't delayed," Kim felt the tension ease just a bit. At last something was going right. For conversation's sake, she asked, "Who is the athletic director?"

Consulting the padd, Clair answered, "I don't know him, some civilian named Anders Tudor."

Kim stopped, reaching out to the wall for support. "I'm sorry, who?"

"Anders Tudor... oh, well he's not really a civilian..."

Kimberly realized it had been months since she spoke to Anders. She remembered his apprehension about Captain Hulse's decision regarding the little escapade that she had joined him on. Silently damning the Prime Directive, Kim tried to pay attention as the other woman went on.

"It says here he was recently demoted from the standing of Lieutenant down to the rank of Ensign... with the stipulation that he could never rise about the rank of Lt. Commander. Shortly after that he left Starfleet to pursue a career in athletics," she noticed the look on Kimberly's face and asked, "do you know him?"

"Yes," Kim felt an enormous weight of shame settling over her. Not only did she know Anders Tudor, but she was largely responsible for what had happened to him. She had gotten herself thrown into prison on a pre-warp world and he had broken her out of it. Since Vester and Clair were staring at her, she added, "I hadn't heard... about this... it's all very, um, surprising." She couldn't bring herself to explain and didn't know how she would face Anders when he arrived.