So... In the four years since writing this story, I've gone and completed a Bachelor in Creative Writing and am now currently doing Honours. I returned to my fanfiction with all the knew knowledge I possessed and was thoroughly appalled at how bad the original story was. So many plot-holes. So many character inconsistencies.

I have now fixed these, and I present Starfleet Academy 2.0!

o.O.o

Chapter 1 – Pointy-eared Hobgoblin

It was a cold winter morning when a group of youths huddled together, lining up to board the shuttle emblazoned with the Starfleet Academy sigil. They wore thick fur coats and their breath steamed up in front of their faces. In Utah and its surrounding states, only five cadets had been accepted into the Academy.

Among them was a tall, slender woman of nineteen. As the future cadets shuffled inside the shuttle and took their seats, buckling up for the trip to California, the woman took a seat between two others and tugged her hood up further. All their things had been stowed away in the cargo bay and everyone held on as the shuttle took off, shuddering as it traversed the distance between Utah and California. Every piece of metal creaked and groaned. Her eyes, hidden in shadow, flicked around the small space. Thankfully, no one was looking at her, enveloped in their individual thoughts. As the rumbling got louder she began to hum a lullaby absently, thinking of what was ahead. For her whole life she'd been teased and ridiculed for her heritage, but no more. She was a grown woman and she was going to the Academy after graduating at the top of her class. A smile stretched across her face.

Right next to the window, she peered out, catching her first glimpse of Starfleet Academy.

o.O.o

It snowed on campus. All cadets disembarked the shuttle, grabbed their bags and hiked through the snow to the lobby. Once inside, they formed another line where they would receive their room number and timetables. Hopefully she would get a good room with a good roommate.

As her line dwindled she debated whether or not to remove her hood, but decided against it. She didn't want to be stared at. Each person moved along, took their things and disappeared through the east door. She was last in line and bit her lip as she stepped forward.

"Name?" the clerk asked.

"Abbott, Zia," she murmured. The clerk flicked to the bottom of the pile and pulled out a folder, handing it over. Zia stepped aside and opened it. Her room was F6 in the second wing. She left the lobby, her eyes on her map as she moved carefully through the corridors. Second-, third- and fourth-year cadets chatted in rooms that she passed, calling out greetings. At a glance, she saw several aliens in the mix of humans. It was somewhat comforting. She was relieved to reach her room, type in the code and slip inside.

Her roommate wasn't there yet, but the two beds were on opposite sides of the room. Zia dumped her bag on the bed furthest from the door and unpacked her meagre possessions, hanging her clothes and uniforms and organising her books in the shelf. Then she made up her bed and slid her bag underneath. After a quick exploration, she saw the private bathroom. She sighed, tugged off her jacket and hung it up.

Resting back on her bed, Zia waited no more than ten minutes before a short, dark-skinned human woman entered the room, pulling half a dozen bags with her.

"Here," Zia said, leaping up, "let me help you."

"Hey, thanks," her roommate panted. "My folks just made me pack so much stuff! Hi, I'm Tara Dillard. And you are?"

"Zia Abbott," she replied, holding out her hand. Tara took it and gasped as she saw Zia's face.

"What? What the hell? I don't get it! Are you…?"

"Yes. I am a Vulcan." Her heart raced at a million miles an hour.

"But you don't act like one. They're supposed to be totally emotionless."

Zia said nothing. She was tall and slender, like all Vulcans, with pointed ears, arched eyebrows and wavy auburn hair that fell to her shoulder blades. She often wore her hair out and pushed it forward to cover her ears: a testament to being teased. The silence between them stretched out and Tara had the grace to look away.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"It's okay. Do you need help?"

"Yeah! That'd be nice!" Tara smiled in relief at the olive branch and moved aside so Zia could help her unpack.

"What classes are you doing?" Zia asked once they were finished. Tara scrambled for her folder and extracted her timetable.

"I've got a couple computer programming and math classes and a self-defence class." She grinned. "What about you?"

Frowning, Zia pulled out her own Timetable and scanned it.

Timetable: Abbott, Zia

Monday

0800 – Introduction to Physics (PHYS 101) Block-A, Rm 6

1400 – Athletics Program (PE 232) Block-D, Athletic Compound

Tuesday

1200 – Cultural and Social Anthropology (ANTH 101) Block-A, Rm 12

1600 – Introduction to Federation History (HIST 105) Block-A, Rm 4

Wednesday

0800 – Athletics Program (PE 232) Block-D, Athletic Compound

1000 – Principles of Biology (BIOL 111) Block-B, Rm 16

1400 – Finite Mathematics (MATH 120) Block-A, Rm 1

Thursday

1400 – Introduction to Physics (PHYS 101) Block-A, Rm 6

1600 – Introduction to Federation History (HIST 105) Block-A, Rm 4

Friday

0800 – Cultural and Social Anthropology (ANTH 101) Block-A, Rm 12

1200 – Principles of Biology (BIOL111) Block-B, Rm 16

1600 – Finite Mathematics (MATH 120) Block-A, Rm 1

"So?"

She sighed with relief. "I got some science, history and some exercise. Just what the doctor ordered."

Tara tilted her head. "You know, you're actually pretty cool, for a Vulcan. I think we're going to be friends." Zia smiled shyly, sure that her cheeks were going green.

"I was worrying that my roommate would freak out and demand a room change."

"I'm not doing that. Just because you're Vulcan doesn't mean you're a logically-sound smart-ass."

Zia blinked. "Thanks."