"Taking the Test"
the Kobayashi Maru has been big lately in STO, there was a random forum prompt for having a char go through it.
Earth, 2266, Starfleet Academy
"More simulator time?" Thenn Venn asked with some surprise, leaning back in his chair, and letting his three fans blow on his face. Even with the air-conditioner all the way down, San Francisco was simply too humid for the Andorian. "Didn't you have a three-hour stint yesterday?"
Dean nodded back, rubbing his hands together briskly. Multiculturalism was a wonderful thing, but six months into time-sharing the thermostat had him doubling his resolve to climb the ranks to single quarters as quickly as possible. Starfleet was making a real push at trying to integrate species more together in the same ships, and the Academy's HVAC was paying the price.
"This one's a volunteer piece," Dean said, "Had a rescue simulation that went completely belly-up, but I think I see where it went wrong, and Sim 5 had a couple hours. Can't let the practical scores drop, no?"
"They posted the scores already?" Thenn said, "It's midweek, that's pretty fast."
"Well, no," Dean admitted, "But loss of vessel with all hands can't go very well."
"On a rescue sim?" Thenn said, "How -no, no, I don't think I want to know, the image is too good - the brave and noble ship, intrepid Captain Foch at the conn, blithely sailing into a star..."
Dean nobly stood up and threw a pillow at his roommate, Thenn caught it, of course - the torpedo specialist had good reflexes even for his species. Navigation track's lost was Dean's gain though, one less ahead in the rankings.
"It wasn't like that," he said petulantly, unnecessarily.
"I'm sure," Thenn said, holding the pillow up as a shield. "But don't you think instead of balancing out your sociology scores with the simulator, it'd be better to spend those three hours actually studying sociology?"
"The entire semester is transformative events in the study of Vulcan logic in the period before Klingon contact," Dean said drily, "That is to say, there were none, so you can understand the difficulty in trying to say that over four thousand words. I saw three people fall asleep-"
"Even senior year, it can happen with those early classes if you can take the demerits," Thenn said dismissively.
"During the last exam," Foch continued.
"Ah, so much for command track broadening the horizons, eh?"
"D'accord. It does give more simulator time, since I get the center chair and the front seat," Foch said.
"And yet, only thirty Class One starships and a dozen Constitutions," Thenn mused, "But so many stations that need shuttle pilots. But so few shuttles and stations pack torpedo launchers." The Andorian grinned.
Dean matched it, cavalier, "You know those strategic briefings that are optional for non-command?" Thenn nodded. "You should really go; Starfleet's planning to upgrade the L-class listening posts with a heavier weapons suite."
Thenn paled slightly - tin can was a generous description for those. "Well, we've all heard about the Klingons," he said with some bravado, "There's only four still deployed there."
"Oh, you poor gunner, so unwise in the sociological impacts of galactic politics," Dean said with mock concern, "The Council didn't want to make it a deliberate provocation, so it's each and every lonely one of them."
Thenn shuddered in response, then smiled. "Well, I guess my faith in Starfleet will have to sustain me, when you comm to luxuriate in all that space on the tramp freighter routes."
Dean threw another pillow, futilely.
*
"Thanks for coming again, everyone," Dean said, as his fellow cadets settled into their stations in Simulator Five. A few distracted waves came back, people focused with determined glints in their eyes. Getting blown up didn't look good for anyone's scores.
"Well, people, last time we approached with full broadcast of our humanitarian mission and treaty violation, yes?" Dean said, "And so apparently three squadrons of Klingon ships took that as an invitation. I'm sure the political fallout from our log buoy was worth our lives, and we took two of them with us, but I'm sure we can do better." That got some nods.
"Engineering, when we begin, please see if you can make us a bit more discreet?" The human there gave a thumbs-up. "Good - computer, ready replay, Kobayashi Maru," Dean ordered.
The bridge came to life with all the lights and chirps of a Constitution in full life, as a subsonic hum of simulated warp engines kicked into the crew's seats.
Dean reached forward and triggered the log microphone in the armrest. "Captain Foch, U.S.S. Yorktown on patrol near Klingon treaty demarcation. No violations to report."
Behind him, an alert cheebled for attention. The Tellarite at Communications sighed and rolled her eyes, then spoke, "Captain, we're receiving a distress call - direction is Klingon space."
"On speaker," Dean ordered.
"This is the Kobayashi Maru… nineteen periods out of Altair Six. We have struck a gravitic mine and have lost all power…our hull is penetrated and we have sustained many casualties," came the desperate plea, distorted by damage.
"Details on Kobayashi Maru?" Dean asked. "Get me a position, confirm it's over the line."
"It's on our tapes - registered out of Tellar," came Science, "She's converted for liner service, can hold over three hundred passengers. Back-tracking the signal I see a low-energy object of appropriate mass forty light-seconds over the border."
"A gravitic mine could have hit it anywhere within three light years," Engineering said, "And thrown her out of warp there."
"Ready tightbeam to Starfleet Command: message follows," Dean said, "I am preparing to violate the treaty line with the Yorktown on humanitarian grounds and Starfleet regulations on distress signals. This is under my sole authority and responsibility. End message. Attach the Maru's signal and broadcast."
"Message will be received in four hours by Starbase Eight," Communications said.
"Excellent - Engineering," Dean said, "Anything we can do to be less obvious?"
"We can drop the power levels in the nacelles to forty percent, any lower and we might misfire - if you keep screens off and sensors on passive, we shouldn't pop up on any Klingon casual survey. Keep under half-impulse and I can run up the thermal baffles for a few minutes."
"Excellent," Dean said, "Rig for silent running. Navigation, plot course to minimze deflector usage given half-impulse. Helm, execute when available."
"Plotting and laying in," Navigation replied.
"Dean to sickbay, ready for casualties - expect radiation burns and stress results from warp field collapse," Dean ordered.
"Acknowledged," came back the computer in a flat voice, playing the rest of the ship.
"Course ready, de-sir," reported Nav, slipping a little, "Oops - er, two minutes."
"Just fine, Nav," Dean said. "Helm, take us in. Security, stand-by to assist evacuation. Ready transporter rooms."
He tapped his fingers as the impulse engines' hummed to simulated life. A minute took about an hour to pass before anyone had a report.
"Picking up Kobayashi Maru on passive," Science reported. "Heat signatures indicate life, but wavering - definitely an atmospheric breach for some sectors, and heavy radiation near the port-nacelle. Picking up some odd K-band radiation."
"There aren't stars nearby. What sort of-" Dean started to ask, but was interrupted as the simulator jumped. Lights flickered and sparked as a massive overload was simulated, blowing some of the rear stations. His science officer lay on the floor. Dean leapt from his chair to check, but the science cadet shook his head slightly - he'd been declared killed.
"Containment breach - we've lost the port nacelle to shutdown!" Engineering said.
The simulator floor tilted, and Dean found himself weightless momentarily, as he clawed his way back to his chair. "Cut speed. Get me power - screens, sensors! What hit us?" Dean demanded.
Yorktown shuddered again, but less so. "Screens up," helm confirmed, "But fading fast, captain."
"Heavy strain on starboard nacelle as well," Engineering said, "I'm starting to lose injectors under this load."
"Radiation alarms in secondary hull," Communications said.
"Show me," Dean said, "Science lab, this is the bridge, get over to active, I need tactical."
The main screen flickered over to a damage board - the port nacelle was splashed in lurid red, with splinters of crimson driven into the secondary hull, pylons, and the starboard nacelle.
"That doesn't look like disruptor fire," Dean said. The ship shuddered again.
"Impact - starboard side," Navigation said, "Screens starting to buckle."
"Have we changed orientation?" Dean asked.
"Gyros indicate we've maintained course, though we're down to thruster velocity, per order," Helm sniped a bit. Dean glared, briefly - they were in several of the same courses, and no pilot trainee ever hadn't been sure they were always the best in the room.
"Get me an evasion course back to Federation space," Dean said, "And find out what we're fighting!" He ran his hands through his hair. Where had he failed? Last time, the trap had closed when they were in the middle of evacuation, sixty of his own people on board the freighter. This was much sooner.
"Active scans commencing," reported the computer flatly, filling in. Normally, there'd be a relief crewman for science, but the simulator wasn't that that good.
Damage report shifted to tactical, showing... them, and the Maru.
"Did we break the program?" Helm asked.
"Please be serious," Dean snapped, "It's something the tactical program isn't set to display." The ship lurched, and there was a groan over the speakers - the screens hadn't held it out, hiscrew was dying. "What was it before - add in the K-band to the tactical dispaly!"
"Complying," stated the computer mechancially.
"Shields buckled!" helm stated, "What now, sir?"
"You let me think, mainly," Dean said, sharply. The display finally updated, he made a note - cherish your science officers. Small radiation sources were scattered around the Maru, and closing on them.
"Some sort of mine," he decided, "Or close enough until later analysis, yes?" He sagged back into the chair, happy it wasn't just phantoms jousting at them. "Helm, maneuver to avoid - engineering, drop what's left of the shields and pour that power to the phasers - Navigation, clear us a path."
"Roger," Helm said, surly, then tapped the controls. They didn't cheep back - he tapped again, harder. "Impulse not responding." Another flat tapping of controls. "Thrusters not responding either."
The cadets turned as one to the engineer, who shrugged helplessly, "My gauges show the impulse drive is still there," he reported.
"Impulse room, this is the captain, report," Dean said. No response came. The mines were closing in. "Navigator, point defense fire, yes. Impulse room, please respond!"
Blue lines of phasers reached out, somewhat listlessly, but something exploded at the point of contact "Not getting power very fast here," the Navigator said, worried, and thumped the side of his console, to no avail.
"Captain - this is the impulse room," said the computer, still mechanically. "Orion pirates. Help. Help. Agggggh."
"Transporter activity from the Maru" continued the computer, same tone of voice, but apparently a different 'role'.
"Security alert," Dean stated, automatic at this point in his training. He looked at tactical - even if he took the helm instead, they didn't have the speed to dodge the mines without impulse. Even if they flushed everything to screens, there were literally holes big enough to still beam through, but the shields didn't have the power to withstand more mines, as the phasers barely had power now.
"We're stuck," Dean said, quietly, and put his head in his hands.
"What was that, captain?" Communications asked.
"Sorry guys," Dean said, a bit louder. "Don't think we can keep the ship." The bridge was silent but for its background noise, and another quick burst of phaser fire. "You can forget that - might as well blaze a path for the escape pods," Dean said glumly, then paused in thought. "Actually - yes, do that, please."
"What?"
"Clear an escape route - Communications, prepare for evacuation. Engineering, prepare auto-destruct," Dean said, and stood, some fire back in his heart - he may be able to save some crew, and that would help the score.
"Aye - beginning evacuation plan," Communications said, startled.
"All hands, abandon ship, repeat, abandon ship. Computer - initate two-minute countdown. Code zero-zero-zero-destruct-zero," Dean said. The lights in the simulator suddenly cut off.
Dean stood, knowing what was coming, as did the other cadets, Science finally getting up off the floor. The turbolift doors on the simulator opened, revealing Captain Harrison.
"Well, Cadet, I suppose you killed your ship faster than the enemy this time, but I'm afraid the bridge has been stormed by elite commandos, and it seems you all have to get used to beign dead" Harrison said wryly. Dean stared ahead. It had not, technically, been a question.
"Explain, Cadet, why you attempted to secretly enter space recognized as belonging to a hostile power?" Harrison asked, closing that little loophole.
"Sir," Dean barked, "Given the Maru's reported condition, I could not wait for authorization. Announcing our entry would require a response - being more quiet would leave it to the diplomats and save the passengers."
"Yes, the response the first time was rather spectacular, wasn't it cadet?" Harrison asked.
"One third of their entire border patrol, yes sir," Dean ground out.
"And this time, you allowed your ship to be boarded, seized by renegades," Harrison said. "Cadet, you've done reasonably well to this point, but how can someone stay in the command track if they can't accomplish a simple rescue?"
Dean broke, "Sir, provide a simple rescue, and we will do it - not with the system pulling mines and commandos out of the firament!" he yelled, turning to face the captain.
"Are you questioning the simulation, cadet?" Harrison demanded.
"Sir," Dean said, "The response was entirely different this time - the Maru carried passengers the first time, not pirates. I do not believe the simulation is possible to win." There was a general inhalation from the other cadets.
"Come with me, cadet," Harrision said, dangerously quiet, and moved off the bridge without waiting for a response. Swallowing, Dean followed.
*
Captain Harrison's office was small, but well-appointed with geological samples taken from postings on a dozen worlds across the Federation, during the human's time as an engineer. The wall behind him had a stylized painting of an intermix chamber - dilithium crystal gleaming resolute with twin steams of creation and destruction whirling and pressing down on it.
Dean could sympathize, as he stood at attention, staring at the painting.
"Sit down, cadet," Harrison said, fussing with a console briefly, and then looked up. "Good God, you could at least stand at ease, we're not throwing you out, or we'd have to cashier half the Starfleet."
Dean relaxed a bit. "Sir?" he asked, pulling out the chair.
"Failure, Cadet, is as important to know how to face as success," Harrison said, and then reached under the desk, pulling out a decanter with something amber, and two glasses. "Here, drink," he ordered, pouring a pair of shots, and pushing one of the glasses over.
Dean sat, and took a cautious drink - gasping a little, his throat was drier than he thought. "Sir, I have been in failed simulations before," he said.
"True, but as you are well aware, the simulator is not perfect - and can be distinguished from reality. Most of your simulations and tests at the Academy are to teach you something - this is to teach us something, given you a puzzle you could not unlock." Harrison looked, somewhat distant, seeing some other time, before continuing, "In space, Cadet, there is no optimum path, and no replays. We need to know how you deal with defeat, sometime it will happen, though hopefully not as totally as it did today."
"You approached as a puzzle," Harrison said, "And kept going as the computer did its job to make your mission hell and changed up what you thought were the rules."
"I was about ready to collapse, sir," Dean said miserably.
"But you spat in their eye instead," Harrison said. "Space is full of wonders, but mysteries and dangers as well, even in parts of space we think we know. Your scores are... adequate, honestly, but that fire's also important."
"Thank you, sir," Dean said.
"Don't let it go to your head," Harrison said, "Given these sociology scores you could still drop out. You're welcome to retake the test, if you disagree with the evaulation, but you really should spend some more time with the Readings of T'Lar's musings, the second canon."
That hadn't been a book for the course Dean had come across yet. "Thank you sir," he said, standing.
"Keep at it, Cadet, you might just have the makings of a captain some day - with some luck and some more polish," Harrison said, "Though, speaking on behalf of the staff, we would prefer if you don't spread this discussion too far. The Kobabyashi Maru isn't selected for everyone, and knowing it is a non-win scenario diminishes the effect."
"Yes, sir," Dean said, "Thank you, sir."
"What for?" Harrison asked, throwing up his hands, "If you make it through the last year, you go to space, having that comfortable myth of youthful invincibility pre-puncutured, and already ready to second-guess yourself." He sobered a bit, and glanced at his rock display. "I've probably cost you valuable years without guilt, cadet." He looked up. "Dismissed."
Dean saluted and left. As the doors closed, he saw Harrison pouring another glass. Feeling immensely sober himself, he made his way towards the future.
*
Dean Foch here is my AoY character, so taking (and retaking) the classic version here. Of course, thanks to Daniels, he ends up surviving a full on no-win scenario, but not really through his own actions. I like to think Thenn ended up somewhere doing Andorian ancestors proud, spitting defiance against a Klingon fleet.
Harrison, a good teacher but never a ship captain, gets unremembered but for a few in this day and age, despite ably training so many Starfleet heroes. Heroism can be weird.