The room was spare, and there was only one bit of decoration in it, a wall chronometer that showed the star date – 2235.18. There was also only one person in the room when Lily Fitzroy entered. “Excuse me?” she asked. 

The person – a Vulcan woman – turned. “I am T’Bek. You may enter.” 

“All right.”

There was nowhere to sit. Lily stood, fiddling with her own uniform sleeve and then jiggling her PADD. 

“Do you know why you are here?” asked T’Bek. 

“The Centaurans,” Lily stated, “it’s about the botched first contact, that much I know. Starfleet said I had to do this in order to keep my commission.” She held a Commodore’s rank on the USS Argonaut, and wanted to keep it. 

“I sense a reluctance on your part.” 

“I’d rather be on my ship,” Lily replied honestly. 

“Indeed. Yet this is a necessary exercise. You see,” the Vulcan explained, “As a commodore, you are expected to perform certain basic,” Lily could swear that T’Bek’s tone for that particular word was a tad condescending, “diplomatic tasks.” 

“Yes, yes, I know that.” 

“Yet your behavior would suggest otherwise.” 

“I know my job.” Lily tried not to sound defensive. 

“The record indicates,” T’Bek paused for a moment, in order to consult her PADD, “that you were taught the appropriate protocols at the Academy.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I’m telling you.” 

“Yet you chose to ignore your training during the mission to the Centaurans.” 

“I’ve also been taught,” Lily explained, “that I should let my instincts kick in, if the situation requires it, or if it gets out of hand.” 

“It appears that the situation, as you claim, got out of hand,” again, the condescending emphasis, “although it was thoroughly as a result of your own actions.” 

“What?” 

“Have you an explanation for your behavior?” 

“I already explained myself at the hearing.” Lili folded her arms. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.” 

“Your explanation is required for this exercise.” 

Lily punched her own PADD with annoyed and impatient stabbing fingers in order to get the requested information to come up as quickly as possible. “Here,” she finally said, clicking her PADD next to the Vulcan’s device. “I’ve sent you the transcript of the hearing. The explanation is in there. I understand it makes for fascinating reading.” 

“I have already read your explanation,” replied the Vulcan. 

“Then why the hell were you asking for it in the first place?” 

“These sessions follow established protocols.” 

“The protocols are stupid, if they can’t be changed to accommodate individual circumstances,” Lily pointed out. 

“These remain our protocols.” 

“Well, you should change them.” 

“I see no reason to alter them,” was the crisp Vulcan reply. 

“They’re rigid and superfluous and thoroughly unnecessary in this instance,” Lily fought to maintain her composure, hoping that having to concentrate on more complicated verbiage would help with that. 

“Yet these are our protocols.” 

“They’re a stupid waste of time.” 

“These protocols were developed by the Vulcan Psychiatric Directorate as a result of careful research into our topic for today.” 

“That doesn’t mean they’re not wrong, or can’t be modified. They are a waste of time and I’m not doing them.” 

“You must follow the protocols.” 

Lily had had enough, and screamed at the maddeningly smug and overly insistent, pedantic Vulcan, “Make me!” 

The last sound she heard before sedation was the click-click-click of T’Bek taking notes on her PADD, undoubtedly reporting to the almighty Vulcan Psychiatric Directorate that the subject was utterly incorrigible.