"D . . . C . . . here we are." Sunbeam motioned Corina into the cabin. "So was I. It makes a lot of the first year easier. But don't get used to this--cadet quarters aren't anywhere near this nice, and neither are junior officers' quarters. Which you probably already know." "Yes." Corina looked around. It was more like a small apartment than a cabin, with the part they were in both lounge and office. A panel labeled "Ship's Services" covered one wall above a table which had an L-shaped extension housing a computer terminal and viewscreen. Storage and display cabinets lined two other walls. The fourth was a translucent screen with a curtained-off opening. She brushed past the curtain into the sleeping area. A standard bed covered in glimmercloth was the only furniture here; the clothing storage and fabricator were both built into the wall across from the bed. A door in the wall opposite the divider proved to lead to a small but well-designed 'fresher room--though Corina remembered that aboard Navy ships, for some obscure reason, they were called "heads". She returned to the lounge area, testing one of the two armchairs it held--yes, as soft as it looked--glad that if she was to spend some appreciable amount of time on this ship, it would be in such pleasant surroundings. A yellow light flashing on a panel beside the door caught her attention, and she pointed to it. "What is--oh, I remember." "Ship's status, right," Sunbeam said. "We're in Condition Yellow; what's General Quarters?" "Red, with a wavering buzz. I do not have a battle station, so I would remain here unless told otherwise by a senior officer." "Right again!" Sunbeam looked around. "I think that's all here. So unless you need something else . . ." Her voice trailed off, and she pointed to Corina's neck. "Is that blood?" "Oh." Corina reached up and touched the spot. "I forgot, and I have had no chance to wash it off before now. Excuse me for a moment, please." She left, returning with her throat fur damp but clean, to face a thorough scrutiny by the young Ensign. Sunbeam nodded at last. "And that's a blaster burn--" Corina felt a curiosity as strong as her own, and hastened to say, "I do not think I should discuss it until Ranger Medart tells me I may." Sunbeam looked dissatisfied, and Corina didn't really blame her. "You must be something pretty special," the Ensign said. "He comes back from convalescent leave early, brings you along--wounded--as his special assistant, puts the ship on Condition Yellow . . . and I bet you can't talk about any of that, either. Uh, do they hurt? I can take you to sickbay if they do." "You cover many things at once," Corina said with amusement. "No, I cannot talk about it, but no, they do not hurt. The burn just singed my fur a little. It looks bad, but it is not a problem; I need no medical attention."