“This is gross negligence, Cadet Miranda,” Commander Aston of Jupiter Research Station said slowly, considering the report handed in by his first officer. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“No, sir,” Jayme said stiffly, staring straight ahead. She couldn’t think of another Miranda who had received as many reprimands as she had accumulated in two‑and‑a‑half years at the Academy. She wondered if she was destined to mess up with every commander she served under. If so, it was bound to be a very short career.

“I must say, Cadet Miranda,” Aston said severely, “the reputation of your family members led me to expect a much different officer.” The commander regarded her thoughtfully, a specimen in a jar.

Jayme winced. “I’ve been preoccupied lately, sir. It won’t happen again.”

The commander seated himself. “What’s on your mind, cadet?” When Jayme hesitated, Aston urged, “Out with it! I want to know what’s keeping you so busy that you neglect your simplest duties.”

“I‑I’m not sure I’ll be happy, sir, as an engineer,” Jayme said in a rush, letting out her breath in surprise that she had finally voiced her deepest fear.

“Cadet.” The commander stood up and leaned forward, crooking his finger at Jayme. Startled, she leaned forward to hear his low order. “I don’t care if you jump for joy all the way from your quarters to your workstation. But you don’t let your personal feelings interfere with the safety of my station. Do you understand?”

Jayme snapped back to attention. “Yes, sir!”

The commander consulted his screen. “You’ll continue your graviton adjustment duties, but you’ll alternate with Cadet Sendonii in the aft conduit chamber. That way you can’t make too much of a mess of my array.” Jayme squirmed as the commander added, “We’ve suffered some structural damage, especially to the lower two decks, so you’re to report to Lieutenant Barclay for extra maintenance and repair duty in the evenings.”

“Yes, sir.”

“There will also be a formal reprimand put on your permanent record.” The commander’s voice softened somewhat, his dark eyes looking on her kindly. “Good luck figuring out your career choice, Cadet. I know how difficult it can be sometimes. I thought I wanted to be a counselor for my first two years at the Academy, but as it turns out, I ended up right where I belong, holding this station together for some of our best researcher engineers.”

Jayme looked at Aston with surprise, but before she could thank him, the commander seated himself. “You’re dismissed, Cadet.”

*   *   *

Jayme could handle hearing Starsa joke about her blunder–she was used to her former quadmate’s completely irreverent attitude about the most serious things. But Jayme hated knowing that everyone else was talking about her incompetence. When she and Starsa went to Zimmerman’s lab to run the imaging checks, she had to hear it all over again.

“That was a fine trick you pulled, Cadet.” Dr. Zimmerman narrowed his eyes at her. “Come this way. Look at that!” The random pieces of one of his experimental holographic imagers was gathered into clumpy piles. “Ruined! Three weeks of work, destroyed!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jayme said through clenched teeth. “It wasn’t done on purpose.”

Zimmerman drew himself up. “I should hope not! Not when there have been so many inconvenienced by your negligence.”

“I’m sorry, “Jayme repeated. Starsa glanced up, for once noticing the edge in her voice.

“You’ll have to be more than sorry,” Dr. Zimmerman continued blithely. “You have to look alive to be an engineer–”

“So maybe I should quit,” Jayme interrupted. “Sir,” she added belatedly.

“Quit? Starfleet?” Zimmerman rolled his eyes. “Now, let’s not be dramatic.”

“No, I mean quit being an engineer. Obviously I’m not cut out for it.”

Starsa was staring at Jayme as if she had just swallowed the holo imaging scanner. “Quit? You can’t quit!”

“Quite right,” Zimmerman agreed, turning to Jayme. “Don’t be absurd. You’ll make a perfectly acceptable engineer. Ifyou can keep your mind on what you’re doing.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be an engineer,” Jayme insisted.

“Why not?” Starsa spoke up, her voice cracking in utter surprise. “I thought you always wanted to be an engineer. Everyone in your family is an engineer!”

“Maybe I’m not.” Jayme stubbornly set up the scanner and began her work.

“Well,” Zimmerman said doubtfully, “you’ll probably feel better in the morning.”

“It’s not a stomachache,” Jayme said in exasperation. “It’s not something I can just get over.”

“Perhaps you should speak to your advisor about this,” Zimmerman suggested, eyeing her in disbelief. “Or a counselor.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jayme said flatly, concentrating on the imager, trying to get the work done so she could get out of there. The silence was thick with resentment and unspoken criticism.

Once they were back in the corridor, Starsa asked, “Are you serious? You’d really quit engineering?”

“I just said that to get under his skin,” Jayme tried to pass it off.

“Really?” Starsa didn’t seem convinced. “You’re more than halfway through the Academy. Why change now?”

“You’re right,” Jayme agreed, walking very fast, trying to get away from her, too. “I’d be crazy to switch majors now.”

“You want to quit engineering?” Professor Chapman asked.

“Yes, sir,” Jayme said, holding her chin level.

“To do what?” Chapman asked incredulously.

“I want to try to get into Starfleet Medical School, sir.” Voicing her desire for the first time, especially to her academic advisor, was more difficult than she had imagined.

“Stop acting so formal,” Chapman ordered irritably. “How can I have a conversation with you when you’re at attention, staring over my head?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jayme apologized. “It’s been a difficult decision.”

“I can imagine,” Chapman agreed with understatement. “Isn’t this a rather sudden change for you? Your secondary schooling was pre‑engineering, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t mention you had doubts about your work at our beginning‑of‑the‑third‑year review.”

“No.”

“Are you going to speak in monosyllables this entire converation, Cadet?”

Jayme swallowed, realizing she had to snap out of it. Professor Chapman had always been sympathetic, and the two classes she had taken with him proved he was a brilliant engineer.

“I’m not cut out for this, sir. I love diagnostics, but the routine maintenance work is driving me crazy. You . . . you know about the graviton system malfunction on Jupiter Research Station?”

“I was notified,” Chapman admitted. “I’m starting to get used to hearing about your reprimands.”

Jayme blushed. “I’m not suited to engineering.”

“But you are suited to medical studies? Which you’ve had no preparation for.”

“Sir, I know I want to be a medical doctor. I’m an excellent diagnostician, and I’ve realized I would much rather work with people than machinery.”

“Yes, but a doctor?” Chapman seemed doubtful.

“Yes; I’ve been working on the EMH here at Jupiter Station, and it’s fascinating. I would much rather talk about speculums and seepage rates than rerouting circuitry.”

“The EMH? Isn’t that Zimmerman’s program?” Chapman muttered more to himself than Jayme. “I should have known he was involved in this somehow.”

“It’s not Director Zimmerman,” Jayme assured him. “I’ve been talking to the EMH holoprogram tied into the medical database. I’ve known what I really wanted to do for a while, but I couldn’t face it until that graviton accident.”

“You can’t let one mistake upset all your hard work. Your grades aren’t as high as they could be, granted, but you’re not failing.”

Jayme shook her head. “I’m barely a good technician, and that’s taken every bit of effort I can muster. I just don’t have my heart in it. You have to admit, sir, I’m no B’Elanna Torres.”