Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek. This is only for fun and no money is being made.
A/N This story will contain spoilers for the book version of the movie.
It is not a main character slash story, even though I am a fan of slash. It will mention m/m relationships. I am pro gay rights and hope to God, that by 200 some odd years from now, someone being gay won't be an issue and no one even blinks over it. And that it's considered a normal part of life.
Memory Alpha states that Spock was born in 2232 and went to the academy in 2250, making him 18 years old, only 1 year older than Kirk who was born in 2233.
Spock's family history was also taken from memory alpha.
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New Beginnings
Year 2250
Eighteen year old Spock disembarked from the commercial transport that had brought him to earth, chiding himself for the uncertainty he was feeling. To dwell upon how he would be received at Starfleet was illogical. He was confident in his abilities and knew he would be a valuable asset to the fleet. That should be all that matters.
Memories of the taunts and slurs, endured since childhood came unwelcome to mind. Not even the Vulcan Science Academy was above such prejudice.
Little did he care what was said about him. Logically, he could evaluate each complaint against his actions and behaviors and either consider their validity or dismiss them altogether.
But what was the logic of insulting one's parentage? Specifically, in his case, his mother. Why should he hold the woman who bore him into existence, kindly nurtured and supported him throughout his entire life, and had always shown a mother's unwavering pride in her offspring, in such low esteem? How logical was it, that he was expected to passively allow those slurs against his own mother to be expressed in his presence without contention?
How many times had he wanted to shout, "Do not insult my mother," during his life, but was forced, after a time, to politely ignore the comments in the proper Vulcan behavior .
Disadvantaged by his human mother? Hardly. His exemplary academic record should avow he had no disadvantage.
Refusing to waste anymore time on such illogical mental wonderings, Spock made his way through the terminal until he found the area designated for Starfleet's use and reported in.
He was directed to yet another shuttle that would take him to the training facility.
There was an undercurrent of excitement at the command level of the Starfleet Academy in San Francisco. Their first Vulcan cadet had just been 'in processed' into the academy and would begin classes the next day with the rest of the new cadets.
Cadet Spock stepped into the room assigned to him as his quarters. Surmising the only unmade bed was his, he dropped his duffel on top and began to unpack.
"Oh fuck."
Standing in the doorway was another cadet.
"If that is an invitation to copulate, I respectfully decline." Spock said, before returning to his unpacking and stowing of gear.
"What? Oh! No! No, it's just an expression. It wasn't an invitation." The young human male stammered. "Besides, my boyfriend would kill us both."
"Your boyfriend is a would be murderer"
"Fuck." At Spock's raise his eyebrow, the other man added, "and no, that wasn't an invitation either. It's a slang word for a lot of things. In this case, frustration. And no, I didn't mean he would literally kill us, he just wouldn't be happy if we had sex." Holding out his hand, "Let's just start over, the name's José Tyler. Pleased to meet you."
With his Father being an Ambassador to earth, Spock knew humans liked to shake hands. He knew it was something he may have to do when he joined Starfleet, but could not help his hesitancy to take the hand in his. Such things were reserved for intimacy amongst mates, not casual acquaintances.
"Fuck, I did it again didn't I?" José smiled sheepishly and dropped his hand. "Sorry 'bout that. Vulcan's don't shake hands, right?"
Spock held his hand in the Vulcan greeting and gave his roommate a nod. "My name is Spock. I am honored to meet you." He tilted his head slightly, "If I may make an observation? You seem particularly fond of the word, 'fuck', or perhaps you are overly frustrated?"
José couldn't help laughing at that. "First, don't way the word Fuck. It's too weird hearing it come out of your mouth. Second, I see I got some explaining to do. When I first came in and saw you, that 'Oh fuck', was a surprised oath."
"You are … frustrated in having to co-habitate with me?" Spock was careful to keep his tone neutral and impassive, but he was wondering, 'Does it begin so soon?'
"Hey, it's nothing personal. It just means I'm going to have to kick it up a notch. Go above and beyond the other cadets." José nervously ran his hand over his light brown hair. "You don't know do you?"
"I am not sure I understand," Spock conceded.
"Spock, you are the first Vulcan to ever enlist in Starfleet. The top brass are practically pissing their pants over you." Before Spock could ask why anyone would urinate in their trousers, José held up his hand in a placating way, "Another expression. What I mean is, they are extremely excited to have you in Starfleet. They expect a high standard from you, which you will no doubt live up to. That means your room mate will also have to live up to that higher standard. Every cadet in Starfleet has been shitting bricks, worrying you are going to be their roomy, because the standard is going to be so high with you."
"I see," Spock said, even though he didn't really understand at all. He braced himself for the same hostility he'd received on Vulcan.
Before any more conversation could be had, an upperclassmen stepped stopped at the door. "Cadet Spock, you are to report to the medical facility."
"I do not understand, I have already been 'processed' through medical. I am not unwell…" Spock began.
"Don't question the orders, just do it, Mister!" The upper classmen turned on his heel and left before Spock could respond any further.
"Jerk." José muttered. "You may not be aware of this, Spock. But as freshmen, the upper class cadets get to treat us like Neurobian pond slime."
Four hours later, the weary cadet returned to his room. He had been poked, prodded, scanned, tested and cross tested. Fearing eventual dissection, he suggested they contact his family physician on Vulcan for all pertinent medical information and had gladly signed authorization for them to do so.
It was explained to him, that being a hybrid, his physiology was unique, only to him, with both Vulcan and human genetics. Generalized data would not work. Starfleet medical would need highly individualized medical information in order to treat any maladies he might encounter in the future.
It sounded logical. Nonetheless, it did not make him feel any less like a laboratory experiment.
Harry Jameson, a Lieutenant assigned to the Starfleet PR department, excitedly submitted a detailed outline on how to spin the addition of the first Vulcan Starfleet cadet for the media, to his superior. In his mind, it was perfect. The free publicity it would bring would be priceless. He was already picturing having the Vulcan, the great grandson of Solkar, of all people, on recruiting posters across the planets.
They could do a media blitz. After all, the young Vulcan was a good looking fellow. Probably incredibly photogenic as well. He could give interviews about how logical it was to support Starfleet.
They could play up his ancestry. Direct descendant of Solkar, the Vulcan who captained the ship who made first contact with Zefram Cochrane, was one of the three Vulcans to sign the charter creating the Federation of Planets and later became the first Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. An event, every cadet at Starfleet was required to study.
His grandfather, Skon, also an Ambassador to Earth, had translated the teachings of Surak into English. And of course, everyone knew his father, Sarek, the current Vulcan Ambassador to Earth. Not only was the kid the first Vulcan, but his historic family history would ensure wide spread interest. Free positive publicity for Starfleet.
But the best part? Harry would get credit for brainstorming the plan. He might even get a promotion out of it.
On impulse, he sent a message to the Vulcan Embassy on Earth, asking to set up an interview with Spock's father, or if he wasn't available, another high ranking delegate. He included his outline as well, hoping for a good media byte from the Vulcans. Something along the lines of , 'We are very proud of Cadet Spock. We feel', strike that. Vulcan's wouldn't say feel. 'We project Spock will be a symbol of,' No. Still not right. 'We project Spock will be a legacy of Vulcan's new goodwill toward Starfleet.'
Yes! He thought. He wondered how he could get the Vulcan's to just sign off on his own little bit.
It was then he noticed a reply to his message to the Embassy. With bated breath, he read. It was short and succinct.
"That would not be advisable."
Five minutes later, he was called into Admiral Archer's office. His spirits soured. Admiral Archer wasn't even in PR. Yes, the Vulcans didn't sound enthusiastic over the concept, but then they are hardly enthusiastic over anything. All he had to do was spell it out for them logically and they'd come around, he was sure of it. Old man Archer could only be calling him to his office to praise his insights. He could almost see the Lieutenant Commander name plate on his office door now.
The Admiral's secretary waved him through as soon as he arrived.
He entered the office and snapped off a crisp salute. "Lieutenant Jameson reporting as ordered, sir!"
Archer did not return the salute, nor invite him to sit down. A beagle sat in the chair in front of the Admiral's desk. Still standing at attention, Jameson wondered why the dog got the chair and he didn't.
"Perhaps you'd like to explain to me, Lieutenant Jameson, why you saw fit to piss off the Vulcans and create an intergalactic incident?"
"Sir?" He barely managed to squeeze out through a suddenly dry throat. Out of the corner of his eye, he swore he could see the beagle giving him a look that said, 'You are so in trouble.'
Archer stood from his desk and moved to stand directly in front of Jameson. "I just got a call from the Vulcan embassy. They were 'concerned' about Starfleet's plans to exploit the rebellious adolescent Vulcan child of a very prominent Vulcan family. If these plans proceed, said Vulcan adolescent child will be recalled to Vulcan immediately." Stepping closer to Jameson, Archer practically shouted, "Mister, you just almost lost Starfleet it's first Vulcan Cadet."
Ensign Jameson left the offices of Admiral Archer in much less spirits, as well as rank, than he was before being called on the carpet.
The staff lounge was busier than usual, most of the instructors eager to hear about their Vulcan cadet.
"Did you see the kid's test scores? He's a freaking genius." Marg, instructor of computer sciences exclaimed. "He told me he felt unchallenged with just the singular instruction module, then asked if he could modify his station to do three programs at the same time. Apparently, that's they way they do it where he was educated."
"Did you allow him," someone asked.
"Yes! You should have seen him. He kicked up the program to top speed, all three of them, mind you." Marg let that sink in before continuing. "I have to admit, at first I was skeptical he could possibly absorb the information that fast, but he got 100% of the answers correct at the end of the program."
"Big deal, half the cadets at the academy are geniuses." Her lunch companion, Commander Dinsky countered. He was the weapons instructor. "I don't see what all the excitement is about, anyway. He's smart, I'll give you that. But let's face it. The kid comes from a pacifist society. He'll never be fit for bridge duty. He'll either end up on some research vessel, a science starbase or if he's lucky, stowed away in the bowels of a starship in the science department, but he'll never make Science Officer. That requires working on the bridge. He's never going to be command material, he doesn't have the backbone for it. I'll bet the lettuce eater is home crying to his human mother the first time he has to hold a phaser or make a fist."
"I'll take that bet," The Andorian hand to hand combat instructor replied. "I've met Ambassador Sarek and his family. I can assure you, his son has, as you say, a backbone. The fact that he defied all of Vulcan to join Starfleet should tell you that."
It only took seconds before several bets were placed.
"No fair cheating by making it harder on the kid, either. He's to be treated just like any other cadet." Someone insisted.
"Agreed. Nor shall he be given special treatment. He must meet the standards, just like any other cadet."
Combat Master Thaen studied Spock as he entered the training center with his classmates and was pleased with what he saw or rather what he didn't see. There was no sign of doubt or trepidation. Of course, with a Vulcan, one could never be sure, he reminded himself.
With the aid of an assistant Thaen demonstrated several attack and defense maneuvers.
"Bet the Vulcan pacifist refuses to fight," A tall heavy set Cadet Williby stage whispered.
"Ah, we have our first two volunteers, I see." Thaen said with more than a little amusement. Cadets Williby and Spock. Gentlemen, step forward please.
"Permission to speak, Commander Thaen." Cadet Williby intoned.
"You didn't bother asking my permission before, Cadet, but permission granted."
Williby had the good grace to blush, realizing for the first time, his comment was heard by all.
"Sir, I have no problem fighting, but I don't think it's fair to raise fist to someone who won't fight back. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. It's Unsportsmen like."
"Sir, if I may…" Spock began, but was cut off, by the Commander.
"Would you like to clarify that statement, Cadet Williby?" Thaen hoped this wasn't going where he afraid it was. He'd hate to have to put the Cadet to the mat himself. Xenophobia wasn't to be tolerated.
Williby surprised them all, but turning to the Vulcan in question. "No offense intended, Cadet Spock, but everyone knows Vulcans are pacifist. You are a scientist. From what I hear, you're going to make a great addition to Starfleet. I respect that. But a fight between the two of us? I'm going into security, Cadet Spock. I'm twice as big as you are. I know Vulcans are supposed to be strong, but look at you, you're just a scrawny little guy whose studied computer readouts all his life. I don't even know why they have you in combat training. You could get hurt."
Relief flooded through the Andorian. He hadn't realized how tense he'd become and now he was almost dizzy that his suspicions were unfounded. "Let me get this straight, Cadet. You are worried Cadet Spock is too fragile for combat training and might get hurt?" He glanced at Spock and was certain he didn't imagine the startled shock on the kid's face. "Never mind, Cadet Williby. Cadet Spock, are you a pacifist?"
Choosing his words carefully, Spock answered as honestly as he could. "I believe force should only be used as a last resort, after all else fails. However, if necessary, I am quiet able to utilize it." He turned to face his fellow cadet. "Thank you for your concern for my well being, but I assure you, I am very capable of defending myself.
"Cadet Williby, what is Starfleet policy regarding the use of force?"
"As the last resort, only when necessary or in self defense." The Cadet's face blushing in embarrassment.
"We're all in agreement then. Good." Thaen the signaled them to move into position. The word, 'begin' was scarcely out of his mouth before Cadet Williby thudded onto the mat, flat on his back.
"Thank you, Cadet Williby for providing an excellent example for today's lesson. Never underestimate your opponent. Just because he may look small and delicate to you, does not mean he is. Underestimating an opponent will get you killed." He looked each student in the eye to bring home that point. He smiled in good humor, "No if the class pacifist would help his opponent off the floor, that would be nice."
Spock immediately reached down to Williby, took him by the arms and set him on his feet, then sincerely asked, "I trust I did not injure you, Cadet Williby."
A moment of tenseness swept through the class, until Cadet Williby laughed hardily. "I'm fine, Cadet Spock, despite my being the one who is delicate compared to you."
The class continued for another hour, before Commander Thaen announced, "class dismissed."
As the students were gathering their things to leave, Thaen noticed Williby giving Spock a considering look, then asking the Vulcan, "Just how good do you think you'll be with a phaser? See, there's this betting pool…"
Which reminded the Andorian of his own bet with the Weapon's Master. Today was a very good day.
An hour and a half later, Commander Dinsky came stomping into the Andorian's office and slammed a credit voucher on his desk. "When I'm wrong, I'm wrong. Here's your money."
"I take it Cadet Spock managed to both hold on to his phaser and refrain from running home to his human mother?" Thaen teased his lover.
"Damnest hand-eye coordination I ever saw. He hit all the targets, dead center. I even had to dismiss class early because that Williby kid bet me Spock could hit a 100 % of the moving targets his first time up." Dinsky sighed in exasperation, "Who the fuck knew a pacifist Vulcan would be such a damn good shot?"
"I believe I did, not to mention half of the academy staff."
"Shit." Dinsky said, thinking about all the bets he'd taken. "I am going to be so fucking broke after this."
Spock returned to his quarters after weapon's training class was dismissed early. He stopped just inside the door, feeling something was off. He carefully scanned the room, noticing small changes had been made to the room. Careful investigation showed it was not only his belongings that were tampered with, but his roommate's as well. As he moved about the room, he corrected all the imperfections he found.
Room inspection was only half an hour away. It was being done by the senior class officers. Any Cadet who failed inspection had to answer to the senior class, usually doing latrine duty in the senior dorms, or making fools of ones self in some way, even though, technically, hazing was against Starfleet regulations.
It was not unheard of that an upperclassment would sneak into a freshman's room and disorganize things, causing them to fail inspection.
After setting the room to rights, Spock moved to the closets. Each uniform was moved back to precisely to one and one half inches apart. Every type of fastener was fastened. Underwear was folded into three by six inch rectangles.
He had just finished his roommate's closet when José came skidding into the room, "Spock, we have to check everything. I just found out Torres came in our room to mess up our inspection. She thought it would be funny to make a Vulcan walk like a duck, during a party tonight, so she set us up."
No sooner had the words left his mouth, they heard, "Ten-hut!"
Both snapped to attention. Upper classmen Jenko, Vaila, and Torres stood at the door. Jenko went over the room inch by inch, but couldn't find a single infraction, much to the dismay of Torres, according to the way she was staring around the room.
After the trio had left, Spock answered José 's unasked question. Weapon's training ended earlier than scheduled. I found the room in disarray and repaired it.
"We lucked out this time, but what about next time?"
Spock contemplated the situation for a few minutes, then suggested, "We will need some sort of security measure."
So was the beginning of Spock's freshman year at Starfleet Academy.
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A/N I know that was a bit over the top, but during Kirk's hearing, the officers acted like Spock was the greatest thing since sliced bread and held him in very high esteem. So the over the top awesomeness was intentional.
Please review. I adore honest reviews and am secure enough to hear what you really think about it. I am open to both suggestions and critiques.