It had been a long day. Admiral Christopher Pike put his head in his hands and gave a quick sigh as he pushed aside the mountain of PADDs cluttering up his desk. Unfortunately, he also knocked over his perilously balanced cup of cold coffee. "Shit," the admiral swore, bending down to pick up the smashed porcelain. A young, pretty yeoman entered the room as soon as she heard the curse. She quickly stepped back out again, on the pretext of fetching a mop to clean up the spilled drink. Or it could've been the unnerving sight of her superior officer's furious face. Chris felt bad. The poor girl probably had enough to do already, without having to clean up his mess on top of it all.

A message flashed up on the screen of his PADD at the very bottom of the stack. For the second time that morning, Chris sighed. He reflected on how many grey hairs this job was giving him. Being admiral was a job much more demanding and stressful than being captain. But that role had gone to Kirk when the Narada incident was over and done with. And Chris thought the kid was doing a damn good job of it. The weary admiral tried, and failed, to scrabble to the bottom of the pile while upsetting the smallest amount of PADDs he could.

The yeoman heard the loud crash just as she entered the office, mop in hand. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of Admiral Pike buried under a pile of PADDs. Not for the first time that day, she sighed. "Sir?" she called out, cautiously approaching the pile.

"I'm fine, Yeoman," said Christopher, but he held out his hand anyway, for her to help him up.

Jim Kirk leaned on the edge of the bar, next to a cute girl wearing a sexy purple midriff that showed plenty of cleavage as she slumped forward to sip on her cocktail. Her wild brunette curls were fluffed out around her face. She wore smoky eye-shadow. Kirk grew dizzy just looking at her. Or that could've been her overpowering floral perfume. Jim didn't care.

Leonard McCoy turned away with a muttered, "Dammit." Once Jim got that look on his face, Leonard knew it was going to be a long night. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a mint julep.

Once in the comfort of his own quarters, Christopher Pike was safe to look at his previously received message in peace.

[Stardate 2388.80, 2101 FST. Message from Admiral James Komack, Starfleet, San Francisco]

Chris,

Was wondering if you could help me put a plan into action. See, the higher-up officials in the Academy have decided that every one of the essential main crew on board the Enterprise should each mentor a youngapprentice. By 'main crew' I mean First Officer Spock, Chief Medical Officer Dr. Leonard McCoy, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura, Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott, Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, and Ensign Pavel Chekov. You may be wondering about Captain James T. Kirk and whether or not he's going to mentor an apprentice as well. My answer to that is: No, he will not. The Academy board have decided that, as the captain, James should have an opportunity to equally mentor all the apprentices in turn, instead of lavishing all his attention on only one teenager.

Chris felt his eyes go wide. Teenagers? The apprentices were going to be teenagers? He wondered how well that was going to work out. A bizarre, yet hilarious vision entered his mind. It was of Spock, patiently attempting to explain a complicated scientific theorem to a gum-popping, bored-looking teen wearing way too much makeup. Surely Komack was joking? He read on:

And yes, Chris, I did say 'teenager'. Now I do understand that you may feel slightly opposed to this notion -

No shit, thought Pike.

-But the apprentices aren't too young. All of them are about 14 – 15 years old. It'll be a learning experience for all involved. The apprentices are students who are all top of their respective classes at the Academy. And to be in Starfleet at such a young age, they have already proven their worth. Each apprentice has an individual forte, which will be taken into consideration, along with their academic scores, when pairing them with their mentors. Attached are the profiles of these brilliant young men and women. I have also sent this email to Captain Kirk. We'll hold a meeting, just you, me, Kirk, and his crew. We'll see what they think about all this. In the meantime, please read up on those profiles.

Sincerely,

Admiral James Komack,

Starfleet Academy Board

Starfleet, San Francisco, America

James T. Kirk stared down at the flushed face of the beautiful brunette beneath him. Her curls were splayed out on the bed sheets surrounding her, and she was now stripped down to nothing but a sexy, purple lacy lingerie set that exactly matched the purple midriff she had worn earlier. Jim had long since managed to get her out of said garment, however, and the midriff now lay discarded on the bedroom floor, among Jim's shirt and pants.

Jim leaned down, brushing his lips gently along the insides of her thighs. The brunette girl moaned softly with pleasure as the kisses trailed further upward, eventually ending just below her jawline. Jim leaned in, preparing for the pièce de résistance: a full-on French kiss that'd leave her hungry for more. He'd heard from a friend that chicks liked foreign guys. He knew this was probably not what his friend had meant at the time, but he didn't care. French kissing was plenty foreign enough. And besides, he had neighbours on either side of his (small) apartment in downtown San Francisco that he'd rented for when he had to stay on Earth for extended periods of time between missions. He didn't want to make too much noise.

But before he could do anything, the PADD nestled in the pile of clothes on the floor beeped as a message came onto the flashing screen. All thoughts of the beautiful brunette lay forgotten along with the bed they'd just made love in. Jim performed an abrupt push-up as he scrambled out of bed. The cute girl gasped in disgust as she was pushed to one side. Kirk knew something was going on that Starfleet wasn't telling him about. This was mainly because Chris had seemed on edge towards the end of the day, but he was keeping uncharacteristically quiet. And Jim really didn't like being left out of things.

He had been on red alert (in the metaphorical sense, of course) all day, keeping a close eye and ear out for any whispered conversations he had not been invited to bear witness to. Also any messages on his PADD that he might have been sent. And finally, Jim thought, his patience had paid off. Spock would be proud. Well, not really, because that would mean showing emotion. But still. He plucked his PADD from the pile of discarded clothes and read:

Hi Jim,

Was wondering if you could help me put a plan into action…

Chris Pike opened the attached profiles and raised his eyebrows. Komack wasn't kidding. These were some seriously smart kids.

Jim read the first profile, moving his lips silently with each word.

"Elizabeth Houston. Top of her class in Sciences at the Academy. Hmmm. Still in her first year at Starfleet though. Oh. Wait. Yeah. They all are. Ummmm….Oh, here's her medical file. I'll pass it on to Bones. Well shit. That's amazing. Spock's gonna want to see this. Her astrophysics scores are incredible! That's probably why Admiral Komack wanted to pair her up with Spock."

Kirk wondered what the Vulcan first officer would have to say about being accompanied to work each day by a moody teenager. The more he thought about it, the funnier it became.

Pike browsed the next attachment.

"Laura Kerrel. Wow. McCoy's gonna love this. Not that he'd ever admit it, though. Her Biology and Anatomical Studies marks are off the charts! 100% in every one of her exams and assignments so far! Amazing. Here's her medical file...I'll send that to McCoy."

Kirk ran his gaze over Uhura's apprentice's profile.

"Melanie Williams. Well, she seems okay. Guess I'll find out when I meet her. She's amazing at Linguistics and Xenomorphology. Wait till I show Uhura. I know she'll be grateful for the company. Being the only gal in the essential bridge crew and all that. Well, she's got me. And Spock. But I know she secretly has a thing for me. It's obvious."

Chris took a sip from his third cup of coffee that evening and continued to read.

"Edward Millers. Wow. He's achieved incredible scores in Engineering. Where's his medical file? Oh, there. Okay then. Send that to McCoy as well."

Jim read the next profile.

"Thomas Draker. An excellent helmsman. Oh man, Sulu's gonna love this. I mean, he already gets on really well with Chekov, and Chekov's about the same age as Thomas. Medical file? Send that to Bones."

Pike took a look at the last profile.

"Russell Parker. A fantastic navigator. You can tell by his academic scores. Oh! He helps his father, who's a deep-sea fisherman, navigate his way around the Pacific Ocean. Very impressive. And Russell's about Chekov's age, too. Just a little bit younger, though. Still, I know Pavel will appreciate the company. And I'll send Russell's medical file to McCoy."

Leonard McCoy opened one eye and groaned. A glance at his clock's glowing numbers told him it was a bit after one o' clock in the morning. Years of drinking a little too much after the divorce had earned him a higher tolerance to alcohol than most, and yet a dull, throbbing ache had still taken up residence in the back of his skull. As the doctor struggled to pinpoint exactly what had woken him, his PADD beeped again. And again. Six times in a row, actually. Yetseven messages had landed themselves in his inbox. Leonard realised that that was what had roused him from a restless slumber. Rain pattered softly on the roof in a way that calmed McCoy, but did nothing for his headache. Swinging his legs round to the edge of the bed, he willed his stomach to settle down. It worked, and, after a moment, once satisfied he was not going to throw up, he reached for his PADD and opened his messages. Leonard's brow furrowed as he checked his inbox. Then he scowled. Then Leonard reached for his communicator and growled into it in what he hoped was a menacing, and not at all groggy, voice:

"Jim, what the hell is this shit…?!"