Christine feels a little pathetic for it, but she can’t quite make herself move.
She’s been standing frozen at the entrance to the transporter station for a good five minutes now, staring absently through the glass panel walls at the rapidly shortening line of people as they dematerialize group by group, off to jobs or family events or sunny vacation spots.
The civilian exchanged had seemed like such a good idea when Joseph suggested it. He’s always had a way of making things seem like a good idea. And it’s not like she has much to lose, at this point. She’s lost most of it already, and it’s been mostly her fault.
But it’s the Enterprise, the only starship she actually knows by name. The flagship of the Federation, which she normally wouldn’t care about except that it’s staffed by the best and the brightest Starfleet has to offer, and imposter syndrome is both real and a bitch.
But Joseph had vouched for her, and they’re expecting her, and that’s a lot of people to let down with one bad decision.
So that’s off the table.
“Well,” she mutters, pushing her shoulders back and opening the door, “here goes nothing.”