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- Don't wait to sign up. Here's the trick kid: the quicker you apply, the quicker you're admitted and the quicker you can sign up for classes. From there, it all snowballs - quicker graduation, quicker assignments, quicker promotions and quicker retirement (not that I'd know anything about that last part). Oh, and better room assignments.
Captain Pike stood across from Jon’s desk. Two men dressed in civvies stood behind him. One man looked like he'd been rescued from a bar while the other looked like he'd been scraped off the bar floor which ruined the charming smile Chris was trying to pull off.
“Captain Pike, what can I help you with?” Jon asked, curious about what chaos Chris had brought to him today. There had yet to be a dull moment as the Head of Starfleet Academy but Captain Pike had upped the frequency of weird incidents since he'd taken up the Commandant of Cadets position a year ago.
“These are Dr. Leonard McCoy and James Kirk,” Chris said, gesturing to each man. He paused as if to let the blonde kid's name resonate in the room but Jon wasn't particularly moved. George Kirk was a hero but then so was Trip Tucker and many an officer in between.
He mentally marked up his fleetbrat tally and gestured for Chris to continue. If the Captain was put out over Jon's lack of reaction, he didn't show it.
“They're late recruits. I picked them both up in Riverside and they both have records that indicate they would be great potential assets to the fleet,” he explained, gesturing to the application padds he had placed on Jon's desk.
Jon gave them a polite glance before doing a double take. McCoy had the kind of resume CMOs only obtained after years of service that equaled the man's age but it was Kirk that had Jon questioning Chris’ sanity.
It was hard to tell which list was longer, Kirk's list of degrees or list of arrests. Then there was the giant redacted section that Jon knew to be Tarsus IV, though he doubted Chris knew the same. If they admitted Kirk, his arrest records would be redacted too, leaving fifty percent of the kid’s file blacked out.
“I can see that but your signature is already on both forms, so what exactly do you need me for?” Jon asked. McCoy and Kirk would definitely be problem cadets but it wasn't anything Jon needed to deal with.
“With the semester starting tomorrow, we're struggling to get the two into classes, dorms and uniforms,” Chris finally admitted.
Jon sighed. That sounded about right this late in the game but usually people weren't signing up less than twenty-four hours before their first class.
“I can get them into basic levels this semester, those classes don't have limits on them, but they'll have to wait until next semester to take anything more sophisticated,” Jon said.
“Kirk wants to do an accelerated program,” Chris interrupted.
Jon was gonna kill him and take the Enterprise for himself. Chris didn't deserve such a beautiful ship after inflicting this problem on him.
“Well, Kirk should have signed up a month ago,” Jon replied before making a major mistake. He looked Kirk in the eye and the boy took it as permission to interject even as Chris tried to wave him down.
“Sir, I know the academy has exam exemptions to test out of lower levels. Would I be able to sit any of them within the next few hours? As many as possible.” Kirk asked.
Forget Chris being insane, his newest recruit was insane. No one had requested to test out of all the lower levels, not even their first Vulcan recruit.
“You know what son,” Jon said slowly, watching Kirk carefully. “There are five exams between now and tomorrow. If you pass all five I'll let you take whatever classes you want but you and McCoy are going to have to room together in the Cochrane Building.”
Cochrane dorms were notoriously bad due to being the oldest and smallest dorms on campus. Until the building was no longer up to code the Academy wasn't tearing it down and while they were held to the same standards of cleanliness and rules, there was no getting around outdated amenities. Needless to say, cadets hated the Cochrane dorms.
“I thought medical cadets got their own private dorms?” McCoy asked, seemingly encouraged by Kirk's lack of reprimand to speak up for the first time.
Jon raised a brow and looked between the two newest cadets. One led, the other followed and neither realized what pattern they had already created. Jon could think of several strong duos who came out of the academy like that but rarely did they enter the academy already doing so.
“Again, a month ago that would have been true,” Jon explained. “Now, you have a roommate. Cheer up, boys, you have five exams to sit, a feast of classes if you pass them and your uniforms should be pressed and ready by the end of it. I'd leave now though or you'll miss exam one.”
“Now wait a minute, I never said I was sitting the exams,” McCoy objected.
Chris grabbed both of his newest problem children by their shoulders. “You're sitting the exams,” he stated, leading both cadets from the room.
“It'll be fun, Bones,” Kirk said, flipping Jon a sloppy salute.
“What the fuck did you just call me?” McCoy demanded as the door slid shut.
Jon rubbed his forehead and sent a message to Thy’lek to pick up takeout. He had a bad feeling Kirk and McCoy were about to become permanent problems for him and Andorian junk food made everything better.
- Fleetbrats rule the Academy. They get away with anything and everything. They jump lines and cut corners. They run circles around everyone and the Admirals let them do it. Why? Because everyone knows everything about them. It's not favoritism. It's pity.
There were currently eleven fleetbrats spread throughout the various years of the Academy: Carol Marcus, James Komack III, Anne Mayweather, Charles Mayweather, Marie Cornwell, Sean Finnegan, Eliza April, Mary Fitzpatrick, Beatriz Hernandez, Richard Forrest, and now James Kirk.
Jon's prediction had proven true with Kirk already becoming a problem within twelve hours. His new roommate McCoy was proving difficult in other ways but Jon had left that mess to Admiral Boyce to deal with.
The newest fleetbrat had passed all five exams leading to Jon having to barter, trade, intimidate and beg the kid's way into already packed classes. Most professors agreed easily enough but Jon knew every single one of them was bracing themselves.
The name Kirk carried a lot of weight even before George Kirk became the hero of the century. The family had practically invented the term fleetbrat with how many generations they had served.
James Kirk was just one in a long line and it didn't help to have the Jonathan Archer running around campus on his behalf. It just meant he had something to prove.
At least to everyone else it meant he had something to prove. To Jon, it just meant another kid with far too much pressure to be better and brighter and far too much trauma because of it.
Being a fleetbrat was never easy and James Kirk had it worse than most.
Jon remembered the first time he had heard about James Kirk, the person, not the symbol. Hoshi had called him the second she touched down on Tarsus IV, explaining carefully about the boy she sat with most of her trip.
The boy had been traveling alone, as had Hoshi, so she offered the boy to be lonely together. He had been quiet and withdrawn in a way Hoshi had recognized and she spent far too many hours trying to get the kid to engage before a curse in a foreign language caught his attention.
That had been familiar to her too and Jon had joked about not adopting random colony children. Despite that, Hoshi often spoke of the boy and it was only in her last call that Jon learned the kid's name.
“I'm not making it off this colony, Jon,” Hoshi had said, her last words recorded in a message that Jon hadn't been able to hear until it was far too late. “If he doesn't either, his records were edited. J. T. Davis doesn't exist. His name is James Tiberius Kirk. And Jon, whatever happens, thank you.”
To the day, Jon didn't ever really know what Hoshi had thanked him for particularly when he'd missed her message and any opportunity to save her. Maybe that was the real reason he was running around campus because once upon a time, Jon had believed in Hoshi when she didn't even believe in herself and she had turned around and believed in Kirk.
Five exam scores showed she might have been right to do so.
So, no, to Jon and other Admirals with similar clearance, James Kirk had nothing to prove but the Academy and Starfleet as a whole wouldn't figure that out until it was too late. They never did with fleetbrats and it was one of Starfleet's greatest advantages.
- Broaden your horizons. Take the occasional class because you want to rather than need to. Go to a party that ends some ungodly time the next morning and don't worry about where your shoes went. Learn a new skill that will never have a purpose other than making you sound interesting. Join a club, sport or cause for something you've never heard of but grabs your curiosity. Get sent to the campus clinic for something stupid but harmless. Might as well meet your future CMO now rather than later.
Jon had known Thy’lek for almost a century now and if there was one fact that was never going to change about his husband it was his inability to slow down. Jon couldn't pick on him for it because he was the same way, only Jon's extracurriculars didn't usually land him in the campus clinic.
When Jon got the call he took it out into the hall where he wouldn't interrupt the lecture he was observing. It was his usual habit to keep professors on their toes but Jon's presence and abrupt exit was met with no more than an eyebrow raise from Professor Spock. Which he was grateful for when he realized he had to get to the clinic as soon as possible.
He could see through glass windows that Thy’lek hadn't been seen yet, as he was seated between an annoyingly familiar blond head and Starfleet's only Orion cadet. The Orion was holding a pack of ice to his husband's forehead while Kirk seemed to be messing with something around Thy’lek’s leg.
“Do I even want to know?” Jon asked, as he pushed the clinic door open.
Thy'lek's head shot up in alarm and a guilty expression crossed his face. “Archer!” he shouted, as was his tendency in public. “What-”
“Policy states next of kin be contacted when some is reported injured,” Jon replied, cutting off his husband's question and potential excuse. “What happened?”
There was a dark purple and black spot on Thy’lek's forehead. Jon knew it wasn’t nearly as bad as a bruise that color would indicate on a human but there was still a decent sized knot forming right below his antenna. In such a delicate spot on an Andorian, even a small injury could cause major issues.
Thy’lek looked away and didn’t answer. Jon turned his gaze onto Kirk, who didn't even blink, and then the Orion who simply smiled. His husband had found some very loyal allies in the past four hours since Jon last saw him.
Thy’lek sighed and waved his two new guard dogs off, prompting the Orion to finally answer his question.
“Gaila, no clan,” the Orion introduced herself as. “There was an event on the green for the Federation Dancing Organization. Jim and I were interested in their Betazoid hoop dancing performance, when one of the hoops was lost and rolled right into the path of Ambassador Shran. He hit his head on the sidewalk and his feet got tangled in the hoop.”
“It's not broken as best I can tell but I know human first aid, not Andorian,” Kirk offered with a shrug.
A voice Jon hadn't heard in weeks interrupted before he could ask further questions. “This is a clinic not a soiree. Why is my waiting room so crowded?”
“Bones!” Kirk yelled in reply.
Jon raised an eyebrow but decided against mentioning this wasn't McCoy's clinic and therefore not his waiting room.
“Bones,” Kirk repeated, gesturing to the Orion. “This is Gaila. Gaila, this is Bones. Oh and that's Ambassador Shran. He tripped over a hula hoop so we brought him here.”
McCoy's eye twitched slightly.
“Bones is going to be my CMO when I make Captain,” Kirk assured Gaila who giggled in response.
“I didn't agree to that,” McCoy snapped.
Kirk mouthed “He agreed,” to Gaila before standing and saluting. “Welp, it's been fun Admiral, Ambassador, Bones, but Gaila and I have an appointment with the Federation Garden Committee.”
Gaila giggled again before waving and following Kirk out.
“A hula hoop, Thy’lek?” Jon asked.
“Shut up,” he replied, turning back to McCoy. “Remove him from my emergency contacts.”
“I don't get involved in marital disputes,” McCoy replied dryly before waving Thy'lek back and shutting the door in Jon's face.
- You're going to make some of the best friends of your life. Instant connections, rough starts, sexual mishaps, near death experiences or deadline study buddy, however you meet them, these people will come to define you just as much as any crew because they are essentially your first crew. You'll also make some of your worst enemies because this is also your first mission and not everyone in Starfleet has your best interests at heart.
“Trouble’s coming,” Thy’lek remarked, staring around Jon's shoulder. It was an ominous statement coming from someone who considered a space battle your typical Tuesday.
Jon turned from where he was pursuing a stall selling Risan fruits. Every year, Starfleet celebrates the Federation's anniversary by hosting a multicultural festival featuring wares and entertainment from across the Federation. Jon liked coming to reap the benefits of his many years of labor while Thy’lek liked haggling with the various cultures over products he never intended to buy. It made a perfect date for the two and the Risan aphrodisiac Jon was considering would make for an even more perfect night. You don't stop having fun cause you got old, you got old because you stopped having fun and all that.
Those plans abruptly changed when he saw a familiar Orion cadet, Gaila, bounding through the festival like she was dodging phaser fire. Behind her ran five other people that Jon was also familiar with. He just might be building the next few years' usual suspects list.
James Kirk of course was always the center of Jon's troubles these days but behind him followed the usually well behaved Nyota Uhura. Jon was only familiar with her through Chris and Spock, the former of which he had a bet going about the latter, though he had never really looked into her like he had the Kelvin Baby.
Behind them both was Leonard McCoy who was never further than a ten minute walk from Kirk at any given time and Gary Mitchell, whose psi scores and psych eval had Jon's mind screaming danger, danger even as he approved the boy's admittance.
The final person trailed at the back with a lazy walk. Sean Finnegan was one of Jon’s least favorite fleetbrats as unlike the others, his father swung his title around like it meant something to anyone but himself.
“Gaila!” Uhura shouted, catching up to the Orion who squealed and turned in a circle as if looking for a hug.
Kirk growled and it was the only warning before Finnegan was pinned to a tent pole that wavered under the weight of two men. “What did you give her?” He demanded.
Thy’lek was already moving and pulled Kirk away, even as he kept his eyes and antenna trained on Finnegan.
“Dude chill,” Mitchell said. “It was an honest mistake.”
“Really? You’re taking his side?” Kirk demanded.
“What's going on here?” Jon asked, cutting across the argument and looking from cadet to cadet. McCoy ignored him and rightly so as he stepped forward to scan Gaila over.
“Finnegan,” Uhura spit out as if it was the worst curse word she could imagine, “gave Gaila something and she started acting weird. Mitchell saw him but neither of them are saying what it was.”
Mitchell shrugged lazily as if he couldn't be bothered to worry. “It was just an avocado,” he said, but something about his tone sent shivers down Jon's back. The cadet might as well have said it was only one sip of a spiked drink.
“Avocado?” McCoy muttered, turning to stare at Finnegan in disbelief. “How much did she eat?”
Mitchell shrugged, still unbothered. “Ate the whole thing from what I saw, skin and everything, like it was an apple.” Mitchell sounded bored of the situation even though he answered McCoy easily. Not even the elbow to the gut from Finnegan deterred him.
“Dammit Finnegan, you took xeno-toxicology with me!” McCoy yelled. “You know persin works like a neurotoxin in Orions!”
“Must not have attended that lesson,” Finnegan mused, though fear flashed across his face as McCoy took a step towards him before growling and turning back to Gaila.
Mitchell took that opportunity to turn to Kirk who looked like he was seconds away from exploding. “This festival is boring. Wanna go for a ride?”
“Get fucked, you and Finnegan both,” Kirk snapped, turning towards Gaila and helping Uhura lower her to the ground.
Mitchell started to storm off when Thy'lek snatched him by the arm. He already had Finnegan by the shoulder. Jon knew there wasn't anything that would stick from this disaster but allowed his husband to march both the cadets to the disciplinary office. If nothing else, spending an afternoon with a pissed off Ambassador Shran would put Finnegan and Mitchell on their toes.
“I'm surprised,” Uhura said, dragging Jon's attention back to the group.
“At what?” Kirk replied, his attention divided between Gaila and Uhura.
“That you'd tell your boyfriend to fuck off,” Uhura explained.
Kirk moved back from Gaila as McCoy waved for more room.
“Gary just watched Finnegan poison Gaila, likely on purpose, and did nothing because he didn’t like that she was spending time with me,” Kirk replied. “I know you think I'm an idiot but even I can see that red flag. I was only dating him for his motorcycle anyway.”
McCoy fell back on his heels as the emergency hovercraft landed nearby and took over. Only one person was allowed to join Gaila, so Uhura hopped on board, her expression contemplative as she looked over Kirk and McCoy in a new light.
“You did good boys,” Jon said, impressed with how quickly the cadets managed the situation both before and after Jon and Thy’lek responded.
Kirk shrugged. “It was my fault Gary was even here and he brought Finnegan,” he replied.
Jon shook his head. “It’s his fault for doing it,” Jon said. “Lesson learned, son, just because it looks friendly doesn't mean it's a friend.”
Kirk glared at him but Jon could tell he was really mad at himself. “I know that, or I thought I did.”
McCoy looked curious but didn't ask as Kirk stormed off and he followed.
- The Commandant of Cadets love their job and love the cadets they serve. There has never been an exception to this fact - from the first to the last. It takes a particular type to accept the post. However, nearly all Commandant of Cadets suffer from Resting Bitch Face and none so much as the current Commandant: Captain Christopher Pike. Truth is, under the hardass facade, he's the biggest softy in the fleet.
Jon first met Christopher Pike when the man was promoted to First Officer of the U.S.S. Yorktown and in the past fifteen years, he'd come to learn all the younger man's tricks and charms.
He knew Chris wasn't a morning person despite the fact that he woke up most mornings at four to see his husband off. This was a fact he would tell people to impress them, leaving off the addition that, during the four hours between then and eight, one would find him back asleep.
He knew most of the cadets and younger officers of the fleet found Chris intimidating. Jon would personally, never understand it, having known about and kept an eye on Chris even as far back as when he was a fumbling cadet. Despite not understanding it, he was grateful for this intimidation as it kept most cadets away from Chris, where he couldn't adopt them.
In addition to his seemingly distant personality, Jon knew many members of both the fleet and the general public thought Chris was easy on the eyes. Jon was admittedly one of them but he'd never say as much in front of his husband, or Chris, or Chris’ husband or Kirk. He hadn't realized his list had gotten that long which was part of the problem.
“Chris, you have to give Kirk up as an advisee,” Jon said, not even lightly sugar coating it as he barged into the younger man's office.
Chris looked up from his chess set with a pout. “Why?” he asked.
“Why?” Jon repeated incredulously, gesturing to Chris’ chess partner who was leaning back in his seat. Jon was starting to think Kirk had a sixth sense for approaching authority figures because he was always slouched when Jon saw him despite him knowing the kid had perfect posture any other time. “Gee, Chris, it can't possibly be because you're literally playing games with the cadet in your off time. Why do you think I'm telling you?”
“We aren't that close, Jon,” Chris argued. “Chess isn't exactly a social game.”
“No,” Jon agreed, glaring at the smug smirk slipping across Kirk's face. “However, going to Karaoke bars, surfing, eating meals together, sleeping over at each other's housing and adjusting each other's clothing sends a certain message to people.”
Chris and Kirk both flinched back from the accusation.
“I'm married,” Chris replied weakly.
“Let's not get into the rumors flying around Starfleet Medical about your husband and McCoy,” Jon interrupted, a headache already forming at this impending Fleet Resources storm. “Look, I'm well aware you two aren't screwing around but even so, Chris you are far too compromised when it comes to Kirk to be in charge of his academics. You're pulling way too many strings and the Admiralty is starting to notice.”
Chris frowned. “I'm not doing anything for him that I wouldn't do for another cadet I believed strongly in,” Chris argued.
That was a whole other problem Jon wasn’t equipped to deal with. If Chris wanted to see a therapist about his abandonment issues and how they presented as obsessive mentoring, that would be great but Jon wasn't making the recommendation.
“Who would be my new advisor?” Kirk demanded, eyeing Jon up and down as if trying to find the best places to put pressure. Jon shuddered at the idea of advising Kirk.
“Well, I thought I'd kill two birds with one stone,” Jon offered. “Phil takes Kirk and Chris, you'd get McCoy.”
Kirk shrugged. “I can work with that,” he agreed.
“That's not so bad,” Chris admitted. “Bones is twice as neurotic as Jim though.”
Jon decided to preserve his sanity and not ask when Chris started calling McCoy, Bones.
When a month later, new rumors surfaced of Chris and Phil trading each other in for the newest models, Jon gave up. Some people just have too much time on their hands.
- Everything in Starfleet is free. The organization owns half the housing in San Francisco. You will have a roof over your head. Any school supplies will be provided and any personal effects needed can be requested at the administration hall. Yes, including those, you little freaks. Most importantly, all food in the commissary is free and the commissary is open 24 hours a day and 7 days a week. No matter what your situation before your arrival was, you will be taken care of now. Endless cheesecake is served every Friday.
There was a cadet Jon liked to keep an eye. Not for the same reasons as Kirk, to keep the kid out of trouble, or Uhura, to see just what her brilliant mind would do next or even Gaila, to make sure no more hate crimes were enacted against her.
No, Jon watched Pavel Chekov because the kid scared him.
Orphaned at age eleven, the boy had turned to education to cope. The kid had bounced between foster homes before becoming a ward of Starfleet when he registered for the academy at thirteen. This year though, the now fourteen year old had filed for emancipation and was granted it on the condition he stayed in Starfleet.
Jon wasn't worried about the kid leaving though. He was worried about the fact that Chekov didn't always use the school's resources.
Case in point, either the boy forgot to renew his dorm room or he intentionally didn't do so, which wasn't going to fly with Jon. San Francisco didn’t fix its homelessness population in the 2030s for a fourteen year old boy to live on the streets in the 23rd century.
“Cadet,” Jon called, startling the young boy.
Chekov looked up at him in fear and spread his arms out to cover the pallet he had set up on the floor of the private library study booth.
Jon had first been notified by the strange pattern in the library systems by Kirk. Kirk had been trying to acquire a private study area for him and McCoy, Jon hoped for actual studying, when he noticed one room was booked up between the hours of 2100 and 0800 every night for the whole semester. When Jon asked who booked it, Kirk shrugged. “Pavel Chekov, whoever that is.”
Jon's heart sank, which led him to cornering the boy now.
“Why?” Jon asked simply, trying not to scare the boy as he worried at the edges of his blanket.
“I did not like my roommate but I did not know how to switch rooms so I let my lease go and did not know how to get another,” Chekov admitted easily.
Jon sighed. Starfleet boasted the best and brightest but sometimes Jon wondered how someone who could dismantle a warp core and rebuild it, couldn't fill out a housing request form. Then he remembered the time Trip tried to carve a turkey with the knife guard still on the knife and decided they were all just like this.
“Ask next time,” Jon insisted, reaching a hand down to lift Chekov to his feet. “It's too late to handle this now but pack your stuff up. I've got a spare room and you're sleeping in it tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” Chekov replied, sounding as if Jon's spare room was the worse accommodation between his two options.
Chekov made himself scarce the second they entered Jon’s house and if Thy’lek had any questions about the young boy who just booked it into their guest room without a word, he didn’t ask them. Instead his husband made up another plate, including a slice of cheesecake pilfered from the commons, and left it outside the door with a knock.
- The Library is not for canoodling. The janitor closets are not for canoodling. The cafeteria is not for canoodling. The empty classrooms are not for canoodling. The cadet lounges are not for canoodling. Not even the dorms are meant for canoodling. By canoodling, I mean sex. People are going to canoodle in them anyway. Best to mind your business.
Jon wasn’t late. He was just having to take strategic routes to shorten his commute to his meeting with Admiral Nogura. Normally Jon ignored the stairwells of Starfleet Academy like the plague due to the rarely used and out of the way locations being a hot spot for student hookups but today the shortest way to Nogura’s office was to leave the engineering building by the back entrance stairwell.
He heard them before he saw them and had every intention of just marching straight through the stairwell and out the door without a word. The students could freak out over whether or not he saw them for the rest of their lives if they wanted to but Jon just couldn’t bring himself to care.
He knew from experience that it was hard to find alone time in Starfleet. There were many tucked away corners that he and his husband had found for themselves to have a few moments of peace and alone time over the years. That was on a starship though and with a huge campus like this, in the middle of one of California's biggest cities, there were plenty of places to get intimate that didn’t include stairwells.
The door of the stairwell banged open, startling the culprits. Before Jon could push past them and forget he ever saw them, one of them spoke and forced him to a halt.
“Archer!” Phil yelped out.
Everything in Jon's body told him to keep walking, but what followed was a tragic comedy of errors he couldn't leave abandoned. Jon wished he could have avoided the entire thing.
Phil startled upright at his presence and reached for his undone pant fly. This meant he dropped Chris in his rush. The younger man went tumbling to the ground with his arms too tangled in his shirt to stop himself. His head smacked against the metal railing of the stairwell and the railing rang like a bell from the force.
Jon winced in sympathy.
“Shit,” Phil said, bending down to check on Chris, who's unfocused expression spoke to a concussion.
Jon sighed and bent down to help Phil pick Chris off the ground. He was even nice enough to hold him steady as Phil pulled the Captain's clothes back into order, or back on as the case might be for a majority of Chris’ clothes.
At least now he had an excuse for why he wasn't late when Nogura falsely accused him of such later, as there was no way Phil could carry Chris' dazed dead weight all the way to the clinic.
Jon didn't even question why Kirk was seated at the check in counter like he worked there, when he knew for a fact that the kid didn’t, and just called out for McCoy.
“What happened?” McCoy asked, all business as he rounded the corner despite the hilarity of the situation. Two Admirals were cradling a dazed Captain between them when all of them were currently grounded away from strange worlds that wanted to kill them.
Phil flushed. “He hit his head,” he replied.
McCoy waited for more detail but Phil clearly wasn't going to continue.
“Word of advice boys,” Jon said, his gaze locking on Phil to include him in the boys category, “don't have sex in stairwells.”
Pike chose that glorious moment to pass out and hit the floor while Kirk burst into laughter.
It would easily go down as the most unprofessional moment of McCoy's life as he looked between his comatose patient and mentor with wide eyes. “What?” McCoy asked.
“Concussion treatment now, story later,” Phil demanded, which finally sprang McCoy back into action.
Kirk's laughter was still sounding through the room and if he didn't stop soon, he'd end up in the bed next to Chris from choking.
“What are you even doing here, Kirk? You clearly aren't injured.” Jon said, watching as the cadet slowly turned a less concerning shade of flushed.
“Bones is here,” Kirk replied as if that was all the answer required. It was, in fact, all the answer required. “I do actually have class now though so I'll see you both later and maybe stay out of the supply closet for a bit. Bones and I didn't hit our heads in there.”
With a wink and a skip the cadet was gone and Jon decided Admiral Nogura wasn't worth any of this. Next time he'd just be late.
- Don't study so much you forget to live. Don't live so much you forget to study. It's a fine line every cadet needs to learn to walk because on starships, when you live where you work, the divide between work and play can get blurred. So go have a beer with your friend but maybe don't get so black out drunk you miss your 8am exam.
Jon hadn’t seen this minion of Kirk’s before.
Though, when the asian man threw his book at Kirk’s head, he wondered if that was because he wasn’t one of Kirk’s minions. Kirk huffed and snatched the book up and held it over the other man’s head. It was a tactic Jon often implemented against his husband, the classic case of keep away when your opponent was way shorter.
He debated interfering when Uhura and Gaila came out of nowhere. Uhura popped Kirk on the back of the head and held her hand out in demand for the book. It was easily handed over and Kirk took to bothering McCoy who was deeply invested with his medical textbook. The growl McCoy gave when Kirk touched his book could be heard even from Jon’s place on the steps of the Administration Operations building a few yards off.
Kirk huffed and threw himself down onto the grass and Jon moved closer to see just what these odd little cadets were up to today.
“-this flight exam is fifty percent of my final. I’m a bit freaked out.”
“Sulu, if you fail this exam there’s no hope for anyone on campus, man,” Kirk replied, once again trying to sneak the book away. “Besides, what’s that book going to tell you about actually flying a crossfield class that you don’t already know?”
Sulu. Jon recognized the name. Chris had been both fuming mad and weirdly impressed when a cadet finally beat out his records on the flight sims. Jon had been hearing about the boy for a week without knowing what he looked like.
“He’s not wrong Karu,” Gaila said, shrugging when Uhura glared at her. “Well, he’s not. It’s like Leo!”
“Leave me out of it,” McCoy muttered, glaring at the group before realizing he was missing valuable study time and turning back to his book.
“Leo’s already a doctor and yet he’s about to have a makeout sesh with his textbook,” Gaila continued. “It's an emergency crisis first aid course. I’m pretty sure if that’s not instinct at this point, you don’t need to be in space.”
“That’s what I said!” Kirk replied, launching up onto his knees.
“It’s not a bad thing to study,” Uhura insisted, flipping her ponytail to hit Kirk in the face.
Kirk sputtered for a minute and Jon chose that moment to step in. It wasn’t his business, not really, but he was, lord help him, getting attached to these particular cadets.
“Too much studying can be bad too,” Jon said, offering his two cents and watching all the cadets, but Kirk, who offered a lazy salute from the ground, stand to attention. “You two seem stressed. I think at this point what your mind needs is a break, not more information.”
The cadets looked at him in surprise, even Kirk who was for some reason watching him from upside down where he laid in the grass. Jon shrugged. “I’m not saying get blacked out drunk and have a raver but go eat or something. You fixed up my husband just fine, McCoy and Sulu, you’ve got the highest scores on the flight simulators,” Jon said before smirking down at Kirk. “Besides Kirks need enrichment and unfortunately they make that everyone’s problem, so feed your pet Kirk and tuck him into bed if you want any chance of studying.”
Kirk gaped at him as his friends laughed. Jon might have had a bit more pep in his step than usual as he walked away.
- Someone's going to break your heart. Maybe it's love, maybe it's friendship, maybe someone died or maybe they left you behind. Whatever the reason, you'll cry yourself to sleep at night at least once. My recommendation is to cry twice (once for them and once for you), take a shower, get a snack and watch a comfort film because space is big enough for you to grow past this.
Jon had seen and experienced his fair share of heartbreak throughout his life. It never got easier to deal with or easier to help people through but Jon considered himself an expert at helping young people navigate Academy romance blues.
Chris couldn’t say the same. The younger man looked visibly uncomfortable as Cadet Nyota Uhura stood across from him with a brave face even as her lower lip trembled.
“I'm not sure I can do that Cadet,” Chris said, shooting a look in Jon’s direction that said, leave and shut the door.
Jon did neither, stepping further into the room. He and Chris had a meeting scheduled for now but Jon was more interested in the current proceedings.
“What seems to be the issue Cadet?” Jon asked. He was familiar with Nyota Uhura. Following his run in with her and her friends at the Federation Festival, Jon had taken a good look at the other people James T. Kirk kept association with. Cadet Uhura had been impressive to say the least, all the people Kirk kept company with seemed to be.
It wouldn’t do to have such a great mind potentially leave due to hardships.
Cadet Uhura took a deep, shaky breath as if it took everything in her to turn to him. “I wish to switch instructors for my current Languages of the Federation Course,” Cadet Uhura stated.
Jon turned to Chirs.
“There’s only one instructor for the year,” Chris explained. “Commander Brayer is on maternity leave for the year and won’t be back until the next fall semester. It will put Cadet Uhura horribly behind on her projected graduation date.”
“And that’s a problem, why?” Jon asked. He knew some kids were overachievers but the levels of which he’d seen such strict adherence to projected graduation times was unheard of.
Chris frowned. “The Enterprise ships out in three years, Jon. Kids are fighting tooth and nail to graduate on time to meet it,” he explained.
Jon nodded. That he easily understood. “And you can’t learn from the current instructor why?” Jon asked, watching Cadet Uhura’s face closely.
She bit her bottom lip and didn’t answer. Then her eyes cut over towards Chris as if he was the reason she was keeping secrets.
“Or is it a classmate causing the issue?” Jon asked.
This time the cadet easily shook her head. No hesitation, so the issue was somehow Spock and Cadet Uhura knew either Spock, Chris or both well enough to know a conflict of interest was building.
Everyone in Starfleet knew Chirstopher Pike had an alarming tendency to collect and mentor younger crewmembers. Jon knew Kirk, and maybe even McCoy, were the man’s current pet projects but before them, Chris had focused his efforts on now Captain Una Chin Riley, an Iryllian who illegally joined Starfleet, Lieutenant La’an Noonien-Singh, the descendant of Khan one of the worst of the Augment overlords, and Spock, the first Vulcan to officially join Starfleet.
Chirs didn’t take slights to his “kids” easily.
“Let's go for a walk, Cadet,” Jon said, leading Uhura from the room. “Chris, I’ll corner you later.”
Cadet Uhura only hesitated for a moment before following Jon out the door.
“I’m not going to ask,” he said, as soon as Chirs’ door shut behind them. “If I don’t know about a protocol being broken then I can’t report it, but let this be a lesson that maybe those protocols are there for a reason. How confident would you be in an independent course?”
Cadet Uhura, who had sagged under Jon’s reprimand, perked up at the mention of independent study. “I learned most languages on my own. I think I could manage to learn the Federation Core languages by myself. I already know Andorian so I would only need Vulcan and Teller.” she replied.
Oh Hoshi would have loved this one.
“Then that’s what you’re going to do,” Jon said. “I’ll email Chris later. He’s already familiar with the process as Kirk’s currently doing the same with his engineering classes.”
“Thank you so much Admiral Archer,” Cadet Uhura said. “You have no idea how much this means.”
Jon shook his head. “I do actually,” he replied. “Now, go find your friends, get drunk, eat your weight in ice cream, and forget Spock exists until he comes to his senses.”
Cadet Uhura huffed. “I won’t hold my breath,” she said.
“Vulcans always come around eventually,” Jon replied. Cadet Uhura didn’t look as if she believed him but Jon knew Vulcans best. Spock would logic himself in circles until breaking protocol to date Uhura would be the only logical answer and then right back out of it over and over. He wished the girl luck, knowing for himself that courting a Vulcan was much harder than anything Thy’lek’s weird Andorian courting ever put him through.
- My office door is always open and usually empty of anyone but me (and my dog, Adler). I know you'll probably never take me up on that offer. I won't be offended if you don't as most people never do. There's no need to feel intimidated though, I'm not nearly as impressive as people make me out to be particularly well into my golden years. Just know it's a safe place for anyone and everyone and no issue is too small for me to hear out.
Jon could count the number of times there had been an unexpected knock on his office door on one hand. Most of the officers in the fleet would schedule something beforehand or call before they showed up and students rarely ever came down his hallway unless he was inviting them there.
Even Kirk didn’t bother him in his office, preferring to harass him in Chris’ office where he couldn’t easily escape.
That didn’t mean Jon didn’t welcome visitors, he was a people person, always had been and always would be, but he knew well how much his reputation intimidated people.
So it came as a surprise when he heard a soft, hesitant knock on his door. It was late. Stupidly, late in fact as the sun was well past setting and the street lights had come on across the campus. Not even the latest of classes would still be in session with the 2200 classes having just let out. Students should be wandering off to the nearest bar or whatever it was kids did these days for fun.
Instead, Gaila of no clan, stood in the doorway peering nervously into his office. “Hi, I saw the light on from outside and-” she trailed off, seeming to lose steam in what she was saying.
Jon smiled and gestured for her to come in. “Good to see you up and operational after our last meeting,” Jon said, gesturing again towards one of the seats across from him. “Your friends took care of you then? I've seen you around with them.”
Gaila smiled weakly. “Yeah,” she said, “Jimmy, Ny and Leo are the best.”
Jon nodded. “I’ve noticed. Your little friends group is made of tough stuff. I’m looking forward to how that translates into space but don’t tell Kirk that, or he’ll never shut up.”
He was expecting a laugh or even a green flush at the compliment but instead Gaila looked down at her lap where her hands were clenched tightly to the fabric of her uniform skirt. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it to space,” she admitted.
Now Jon didn’t exactly know any of the kids he kept his eye on, he knew any perception he had of them was just the surface level, but he knew enough to know demure and quiet weren’t words he would associate with Gaila. Seeing Gaila so unsure of herself reminded Jon of many young cadets he’s mentored over the years but more than anyone she was reminding him of T’Pol after they had settled their differences but before she had fully joined their crew, their family.
“What happened?” Jon asked, not even bothering to beat around the bush. Orions were crafty people but in times of strife they preferred straightforward and honest dealings.
“I’m the only Orion in Starfleet,” Gaila started. “And I know, I know I'm not the first of a different species to join Starfleet but it’s different when you’re seen as both strange and the enemy. I love Ny, she’s my best friend and she never treats me differently and Spock’s been a great help with adjusting to Earth and Leo is just the sweetest with the way he’s taken to studying Orion health so he can take care of me and Jimmy tries so hard to protect me but he can’t be everywhere and sometimes it seems like the people who don’t want me here are everywhere.”
Jon took a deep breath as he watched the young woman across from him breakdown. Too many good officers get chased out of Starfleet by bigotry and Jon just never understood it. Why join a peacekeeping scientific armada who operates in space to explore strange new worlds if you in fact hated peace, exploration and other species? Sometimes he wondered if these people weren’t here to tear it down from the inside.
“You might not believe me on this, but I do actually get it,” Jon replied.
Gaila's head popped up and she stared at him in disbelief.
“You forget who you’re talking to kid,” Jon said, smiling slightly. “I was the first human to launch a deep space exploration mission, or well, what we called deep space at the time. The Vulcans? Oh they very much didn’t want us out in space and the Andorians? They thought we were trouble being allies with Vulcan. Everywhere the Enterprise went the species that had been exploring space for centuries before us, kept pushing back as if to say “you’re too late, get out of here kid.” But us Humans, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, are a stubborn bunch so we pushed and shoved and made our place in space and now people look around and struggle to think of a time when we weren’t leading the charge.”
Jon stood from his seat, ignoring the creaking of his knee as he moved to kneel next to Gaila and take her hand. “It’s hard, I know it is, proving you belong somewhere that was always your place to be in, but it’s worth it. One day people are going to look back and struggle to remember when Orions weren’t in Starfleet and that’s going to be because of people like you, who proved everyone who said otherwise wrong. It’s hard being that person but I think I might know a better mentor than Spock to show you the way, if you still want to give it a try.”
Gaila still looked hesitant as a tear rolled down her cheek, leaking pheromones that kicked Jon’s sympathy even further into overdrive. He would do anything to get Gaila to stay, but he was already planning to do that anyway.
“Who could possibly understand?” Gaila asked.
“Have you ever heard of Starfleet’s first Illyrian?” Jon asked, nodding as Gaila shook her head. “I’ll give you Captain Chin-Riley’s comm number. She’s one of Pike’s pet projects much like yourself and she was once exactly where you are.”
“I’m one of Captain Pike’s pet projects?” Gaila asked in disbelief even as she handed over her communicator without question.
“He likes cadets that he thinks can change Starfleet for the better,” Jon explained, watching as a small smile pulled at the corner of Gaila’s mouth. “I do too.”
He held eye contact as he handed the communicator back and knew as Gaila took it, that this was one officer they weren’t losing to hate.
- Sooner or later, you're going to have to trust somebody. Shyness, introversion, trauma, disinterest, or whatever your reason for not making connections, isn't going to fly in Starfleet. Not because people won't accept it but because you won't survive it. Space is cold and dark and lonely just as often as it is wondrous, brilliant and fulfilling. So suck it up and find a confidant. You'll breathe easier when you do.
Jon had seen Kirk in many states at this point. Beaten half to death, drunk off his ass, cramming for finals, flirting and acting a fool to name a few but Jon had never seen the kid panicked.
Kirk paced up and down the courtyard outside the Cochrane Building, scaring off any other residents from making use of the space on an unusually warm winter day. His hair was a mess and tear tracks stained his face.
“Cadet?” Jon asked, not fully sure if he should bother the young man. “Is something wrong?”
Kirk jumped and turned wild eyes on him. Jon had seen the look before on men coming back from battle in the Xindi and Romulan Wars. It didn't take him long to place what topic might put a look like that on Kirk's face.
“Damn, the Catastrophe Response course,” Jon muttered. “I told Dr. Hanton and Phil, both, to let you skip it. I even gave them the damn files for why!”
Kirk blinked as if his mind was coming back from a great distance. “I-I did sk-skip it,” Kirk admitted. “Chris to-ook me out t-t-to lunch inste-ad but I c-couldn't eat. It's not the cl-class.”
Kirk's voice shook like he was cold but Jon knew it was the shock creeping up on him. He grabbed Kirk and pulled him into a tight hug for lack of other resources. Behind the cadet’s back he shot off a message to Chris and Phil both.
When Kirk stopped shaking, Jon, not letting go even slightly, asked, “What's wrong then? If not the class?”
Kirk, though Jon supposed now that he's hugged the boy he could call him Jim, sighed heavily against Jon's shoulder.
“When I was excused from the class it got people curious and while I can ignore everyone else, Bones was curious too. I tried to tell him. He's my best friend and I - I think I might love him. I want him to know, I really do but - I don't want him to hate me.” Jim looked panicked as he finished his explanation, and not for the first time has Jon wondered just what his and McCoy's relationship actually was that the idea of losing him cut so deeply.
Jim had other friends and he even had other lovers, but McCoy seemed to be in a category of his own that made both men push limits for each other. Jon's biggest worry was the day he'd be faced with a court martial for one of them because of something stupid they did for the other.
Jon didn't bother to correct the boy about his worries. The things that happened on Tarsus IV weren't pretty, from both the perpetrator side and the victim side. Some people couldn't wrap their heads around cannibalism even in times of strife. Jon didn't know McCoy well enough to say either way.
“You'll feel better after telling him,” Jon replied, because it was true. Even if McCoy proved to be a top-notch asshole, at least Jim would know and the panic building in him would have a purpose.
“Could you just send him the files?” Jim asked. “It's easier to talk to people who already know.”
Jon hesitated. Nothing stopped the Tarsus IV survivors from talking about their experiences but the files Jim wanted were classified Starfleet reports.
Jim tensed in his arms and Jon decided it was his privilege as the oldest active duty serviceman in Starfleet to send whatever files to whoever he wanted.
“Done,” Jon said, releasing Jim and looking away as the kid wiped his eyes. “Now, I was on my way to a nice little ice cream parlor just off campus. It boasts the long discontinued superman ice cream if you want to join.”
“Sir, superman ice cream is just vanilla,” Jim argued. It was the first time Jim had ever called him sir and Jon wasn't sure he liked it.
“Spoken like a man who's never had superman ice cream, let's go,” Jon replied.
- You're going to fail. You're going to fail so badly that your immediate reaction is to drop out and never set foot in San Francisco ever again. It happens and it will one day happen in space. If you're lucky and make it to the other side of that failure, keep moving. Your successes will speak volumes more but you won't gain them if you quit while you're down.
It wasn’t often that Jon found himself in positions to assist cadets after they graduated and became officers. The rare cases where he did were usually ones where an officer took a grounded position at the campus to teach.
Learning and teaching were not skills easily interchanged. It took a special kind of person to be able to really teach someone their skills. Hoshi and Trip had always been his best examples of this. Trip could master any engine given to him with a box of scraps, WD40 and a roll of duct tape but any explanation he tried to give about how he did it went over the heads of everyone but T’Pol. Hoshi on the other hand could explain an entire language to a person in a single afternoon and you would walk away breathing the language as if it was your first.
Spock was a brilliant officer and fell somewhere in the middle of Hoshi and Trip the few times Jon shadowed his class. He’s much more nurturing and patient than most would give him credit for with him being a Vulcan. He spoke clearly and never treated a question as if it was stupid and was able to find other ways of explaining concepts easily when needed.
Spock unfortunately had one, tiny issue when it came to the way he taught. He was the definition of a perfectionist and imprecise answers didn’t fly with him which was why Jon was currently in Spock’s office watching Spock stare up at Chris with the patented Vulcan, “I don’t know why you are yelling at me but I’m going to pretend it’s not upsetting me,” face.
“I do not understand,” Spock said for the fifth time. “If they cannot get the grades themselves, why would I give them the grades anyway?”
Chris groaned in frustration. “Spock, the highest grade in your class is a seventy-two,” he repeated for the sixth time. “High fail rates reflect badly on teachers, not students.”
Jon saw Spock open his mouth, no doubt to reply once again that, “Students should take responsibility for their education,” and cut across him.
“How about instead of continuing this argument, the three of us look back over your gradebook and see just where the issue might be,” Jon offered. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe Spock isn’t the problem here. Vulcan is a hard language to learn and Spock’s students did lose one of their biggest crutches when Cadet Uhura turned to independent study.”
Spock’s jaw clenched but he didn’t say anything. From what Chris said, Spock finally logic-ed his way back into a relationship but Chris had put his foot down about her rejoining the class with her dating the teacher and all.
Spock and Chris both agreed to Jon's compromise and Spock started pulling up the first assignment of the semester on his computer. It did not take long to figure out the issue or for Chirs and Spock to start bickering again.
“Spock, that’s the right answer!” Chris said, pointing at the touchscreen so hard it highlighted the whole page.
“It’s missing the definitive article,” Spock protested.
“Yalena is Russian, Spock, they don’t have definite articles in her language. It’s a beginner class, you know what she’s trying to say,” Chris argued. “At least give her partial credit.”
“I do not understand the purpose of partial credit,” Spock argued.
“It’s so your students don’t flunk out of the academy,” Chris replied, dropping his head to his desk.
Jon sighed. “Spock, I know Vulcan’s see failure as something to rise above and correct but in a lot of other cultures that’s not the case. You have five andorians in your class, do you know what andorians see failure as? Something shameful that disgraces them and scars their performance for the rest of their lives. All the humans in your class are going to get discouraged and many of them will quit trying. It may seem like humans continually throw themselves at impossible circumstances but we do in fact know when to quit. Have you even talked to these students about this?”
“If they have questions I have office hours,” Spock replied which Jon translated to mean, “No, and the students are too intimidated to do the same”.
Chris groned from where his head was pressed to the desk.
“Chris you have a meeting in an hour, go get ready for that and I’ll help Spock,” Jon offered, shooing the captain from the room.
Jon waited for the door to shut behind him before he turned to Spock and took control of the computer. “I’m going to re-grade every assignment and you’re going to watch me until you get it.”
It was a very long and frustrating day by the time Jon inputted the last grade but thankfully Spock was, in fact, a quick learner himself and was able to understand how Jon was grading, if not why, within the hour. Now the lowest grade in Spock’s class was a fifty-six not a thirty and his highest had been boosted to a ninety-six.
Jon leaned back in the chair with a sigh and refused to look at the time. He could feel Spock’s gaze digging into the side of his head and knew this issue wasn’t fully resolved.
“Yeah, Spock?”
“I do not wish to be a harsh teacher but I still do not understand why you were so careless with your grading,” Spock said.
Jon sighed. “It wasn’t careless, Spock, it was leniency. Give your students some grace when they’re new at this and while you’re at it, give yourself some grace when you’re new at this,” he said. “Next semester, if you still need help, I’ll sit with you just like this and help you grade. It will save us a lot more time at the end of the semester.”
Jon could tell Spock didn’t get it but he could see the concept turning in his head. “Yes, Admiral.”
- There's not a damn 13. Good lord kid, don't you know your superstitions? If not, brush up on them because ships run on superstition and so too does the Academy. Don't jinks it, red shirt.
Jon was going to kill him. He didn't even care that the death penalty was illegal. That psychotic scotsman took his dear Adler and vanished him into nothing. Not even the puppies Adler's latest girlfriend gave birth to a week before softened the sting.
The brass was fighting him every step of the way but Thy’lek at least had his back that some punishment should be meted out for illegal experimentation on animals and theft. If it was mostly because his husband felt guilty as Adler had gone missing on his watch, a fact Jon was trying to overlook before he did something hasty like divorce his husband of nearly seventy years, then they weren't speaking about it.
As it was, the final verdict came down well enough. Lieutenant-Commander Montgomery Scott would be exiled, or well, assigned, but exile wasn't too far off the mark, to Delta Vega.
Maybe he would even end up dead anyway, planets like that weren't very kind to red shirts afterall.
- The average semester at Starfleet Academy is 15 weeks. It may seem like a long time but at 143 years old, I can assure you that time flies. So, enjoy it while you can because classes won't last forever and when you're looking out over a purple sky light years from campus, you'll miss the little things like study breaks on the green.
The older Jon got, the more he came to appreciate the simple things in life, like walking around the campus green with his husband tucked into his side.
Cadets scattered here and there in last minute rushes to say goodbye to this friend or that professor as the semester came to an end. He could see Uhura and Gaila hugging tightly only a few feet away as Uhura offered for her friend to come home with her over the next break and Gaila sheepishly admitted she had an internship next semester for the Yorktown under Captain Chin-Riley. This news gained her an even bigger hug.
Not much further away Chris was seated on a bench with Jim, the two talking in low tones before Jim shook his head and pointed his thumb in McCoy’s direction with a blush on his face. Chris smirked and shook his head before ruffling Jim’s hair and standing to leave. He made his way over to where Phil was waiting and swatted at his husband’s hands when he tried to adjust his scarf.
Jim bounded towards McCoy who raised a brow. Whatever Jim said had McCoy nodding and the two linked hands before walking towards the campus gates. Wherever they were going, it was clearly together.
Further across the green, Jon saw something that calmed his worries about one particular cadet. Chekov was seated next to Sulu on a bench, the two of them apparently waiting for a third man who approached them shortly after. The third man, a young asian only slightly older than Sulu, seemed nervous until Chekov offered him a thumbs up. Sulu said something to him and he relaxed before patting Chekov on the back.
Thy’lek squeezed his middle and Jon turned to see Scott morosely making his way towards the gate dressed in Earth typical winter clothes. Jon almost felt guilty, knowing the kid would need more than that where he was going. Then Scott looked up and made eye content. He scampered off campus before Jon could fully change his mind.
Just as he and Thy’lek were about to turn off the green and head towards home, Jon spotted Spock seemingly giving a tour of the campus to an older human woman. Ambassador Sarek was nowhere in sight but Jon knew at least this break, Spock would have family nearby.
Jon paused at the bend, drawing Thy’lek to a halt that had his husband glaring up at him. He hated Jon’s tendency to stop and smell the roses on their walks.
Jon looked out over the green for one last moment as the semester officially drew to a close.
“Do you miss it?” Thy’lek asked.
“School?” Jon asked, looking down at Thy’lek like he’d lost his mind.
“No, exploring,” Thy’lek replied, rolling his eyes at his silly human.
“Always, but this, this is nice too,” Jon admitted. He pressed a kiss to the top of Thy’lek’s head and turned away from the green. “It’s their turn and I think these kids might just have what it takes.”
- Finally, you may be looking at that application, the class sign up roster, or even your first lecture room and thinking, "That's a summit I'll never reach." but Starfleet is all about perspective and in time you'll learn new ones and keep learning new ones every day. When you're my age, if you're so lucky, you'll look back and that mountain before you will appear as a normal step on a normal staircase. And if worse comes to worse, just ask for the turbolift. This isn't the 21st century, they're present in every building.