Hey all, it's me Owly back with a new obsession: Star Trek! So sit back, relax, grab a coke or two, and enjoy the story!!!

Disclaimer: If I really owned Star Trek, I'd be sitting here with Anton Yelchin and Zachary Quinto, laughing, and you wouldn't be reading this. :)

Chapter 1: You Win Some, You Lose Some

Devon was angry - angry with the world and angry with herself. She couldn't believe she'd let herself be talked into such a horrible idea. Starfleet Academy? She didn't want to be a doctor, even though she'd been accepted early - one of 200 med students. She wanted to live her life, have fun, and decide her own future, not be stuck on some stupid ship taking care of the same stupid diseases on some stupid alien planet. Perhaps she could sneak–

The noise of some loud vehicle interrupted the flow of Devon's thoughts. She turned from where she was trying to sabotage the ship's engines to see a young man arrive on a motorbike. It was a very handsome bike, and the boy was too; at least, he might have been handsome if one of his eyes wasn't swelled closed and his lip wasn't split in three places. He sported multiple bruises and dried blood on his chin, as well as an expression that oozed arrogance. Devon watched as he jumped off and surveyed the scene before him. Captain Pike, who had been greeting the recruits as they were loaded onto the shuttle, turned to the man and smiled as if he'd been expecting him. Devon decided she liked the guy already … he reminded her of a boy she had known long ago.

I guess that these engines are harder to booby-trap than those on a car, she decided, straightening up and wincing. She'd been bent over for a good ten minutes, pretending to load her bag underneath the ship and trying to pull the power chord while she was at it. Sighing, she wiped her hands on her jeans and walked over to the boy.

"Nice ride, for a farm boy," she commented. He gave her a perfunctory once-over. She had a hat scrunched tightly in one hand and a winning smile stretched across her face. She wasn't wearing the red uniform- a good sign. The boy liked rebels.

Devon knew she wasn't ugly. In fact most people thought she was quite attractive. She did have a nice body and an even prettier face that was framed by a sheet of dark brown hair. She never, ever wore her hair up. It was her rule, and she followed it almost religiously.

"I'd say the same to you, on account of your most beautiful figure," he said, smirking. "But there's a captain behind you."

Devon whirled around, and found her gaze resting on Captain Pike. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes skyward.

"Are you here to report to the Academy?" he asked her. She nodded glumly.

"I'm trying to forget."

The boy snorted.

"Well, get on the ship. We're almost ready to leave," Pike ordered her. "I have a few words to say to this young man before we depart."

Now was the moment of truth. To leave or not to leave? That is the question. Well, she had promised that she would give the Academy a month or two trial. If she didn't like it, she could get herself expelled. But why waste the time?

"Cadet?" asked Pike. "Please proceed to the ship."

Devon nodded again and reflected coolly that perhaps the whole attending Starfleet thing wouldn't be a waste if she could get to know that guy; she shrugged off the idea as soon as it had come. He reminded her of him, yes, but should she take the risk? He was a real player. She'd seen the interested and almost professional glint in his eyes. No matter how immorally Devon lived her life, she always drew the line at more intimate relationships. She had been given a few opportunities, but had this thing about letting people too close to her. And all that skin to skin contact? She shuddered. Her head hurt for hours if someone so much as held her hand.

Devon walked up the small ramp and into the low-ceilinged cabin, nearly whacking her forehead on the overhang. She felt slightly out of place, considering the rest of the to-be cadets were flaunting bright red uniforms and staring at her gruffness and jeans. There were only three empty seats left, all adjacent to each other and across from a smug looking black girl. Devon thought for a moment, then chose the one furthest to the left and closest to the exit. She strapped herself in, pulled her antique baseball cap over her eyes and leaned back. Maybe she could sleep and wake up to find this was all some stupid (yet terrifying) dream....

"Hey, beautiful," said a familiar voice. "Mind if I sit here?"

The cap was removed from her eyes and she found herself staring up at the boy with the bike.

"There's no other place, so I guess you'd better sit down." Devon grinned at him, and he grinned back.

"Thanks."

He carefully placed the hat back on her head, and Devon thought she felt his fingers trail across her cheek for a few moments longer than necessary. She flinched as if he had shocked her, but no one noticed. The boy sat and began struggling with the complex structure of buckles and straps.

"I'm Jim, by the way. What's your name?"

"Don't tell him," said the African American girl. "If you value your sanity."

Jim looked up, and smiled. "Hey Uhura, long time no see. Still withholding first names?"

"Yes. And if you know what's good for you you'll stop aggravating the poor girl." She shifted in her seat and made a point of looking out the window on the other side of the cabin.

"I'm Devon," said Devon. Uhura let out a puff of air between clenched teeth.

"Well, Devon, you have amazing eyes," said the boy, leaning so close that his own eyes were mere inches from Devon's.

Devon smirked. "How many times has that line worked for you?"

Jim pretended to pout, but said, "14 to date. When you and I get to know each other a little better, it'll be 15."

Devon was about to say something smart-alecky back when a rather loud disturbance interrupted their conversation. A dingy, bedraggled, and unshaved man was being forced out of the bathroom by a short and squat female officer.

"You need a doctor!"

"Dang it, I AM a doctor! I think I know what's good for me!"

"Sir, you must take a seat now. For you own safety!"

"I had a seat...in the bathroom! With no windows!"

Devon chuckled and shifted in her seat. The guy was hilarious, in a dry, sarcastic kind of way.

"I suffer from aviophobia- fear of dying in something that flies."

The commander lost her patience then. "Sir, you will sit down or so help me I'll make you sit down myself!"

She stalked off. The man sat down on the other side of Jim, grumbling. He looked at them, looked down, then looked back up.

"I may throw up on you," he told Jim, eyes growing wide. He looked rather insane. Devon caught a whiff of his breath- straight alcohol. He'd been drinking his fears away. This is my kind of guy. Who else would drink it up at oh-eight-hundred, much less have the audacity to drink on a Starfleet ship? I bet even Jim didn't bring alcohol on board. Come to think of it, I didn't either....

"Go ahead," Devon said. "Worse has happened."

"Speak for yourself!" protested Jim.

"That's rich, coming from a guy who looks like his face went through someone's digestive tract."

"Whatever."

They sat for a moment, pondering the calamities that might befall one in space.

"I think these things are pretty safe," said Jim at length. It sounded as if he were reassuring himself, not the panic attack prone person sitting next to him.

"Don't pander me, kid," said the guy. Devon noted that he had a Southern accent. She guessed it flared with panic and stress. "One tiny crack in the hull and our blood boils in thirteen seconds! A solar flare might crop up and cook us in our seats! As if that's not bad enough, wait 'til you're sitting pretty with a case of Andorian shingles; see if you're so relaxed when you're bleeding from your eyeballs! Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence!"

"Um, I hate to break it to you," Jim cut in. "But Starfleet operates in space."

"Unless you're a masochist," added Devon. "Then everything would make perfect sense."

"I've got nowhere else to go," explained the guy, trying to strap himself in. He was fumbling and shaking. Devon sighed and leaned over Jim, who caught a whiff of some tangy perfume coming off of her skin. She adjusted the straps on McCoy's legs, snapped the buckles over his chest, and secured the armrests. The man stiffened.

"Geez, relax," Devon sighed. "I'm just trying to help."

She sat back.

"It's okay sweetheart," said Jim. "You were fine just the way you were. I had a good view. While you're at it, I wouldn't mind if you adjusted my seat belt too."

He raised an eyebrow while Devon looked down at her slightly low cut shirt and blushed slightly.

"You're such a pervert," she muttered grumpily.

"I'm sick of womanly help. The wife took the whole danged planet. Space is the only place left to go," said the paranoid guy, as if he were continuing a conversation. Jim and Devon were momentarily confused.

"And so here I am. All I've got left is ma' Bones." He seemed to have gotten something off his chest. He relaxed, but only slightly, and pulled a small flask out of his pocket. He took a swig, then offered it to Jim, who was eyeing the bottle with a disbelieving (and thirsty) look.

"Thanks," he said, taking a swig. Then another. And another.

"Leonard McCoy," said the guy. Jim handed the bottle to Devon, who shook it slightly to see how much was left. Jim had swallowed about half, by the looks of it. She took a small sip and immediately realized why: it was very, very good. McCoy sighed, as if he were mourning the loss of his precious alcohol.

"James T. Kirk. Call me Jim."

"Devon."

"No last name?" asked McCoy

"Never had one."

"Oh."

"You're drinking?" Uhura cut in, aghast. "How are you going to explain it to the administrators of the Academy when you arrive stoned?"

The three exchanged glances and shrugged.

"One hurdle at a time, baby," said Jim.

The ride had been interesting. McCoy hadn't been joking when he'd said he was going to throw up. He did. Projectile vomiting and everything...all over Uhura. Needless to say that put her in a pretty bad mood, even though Devon and Jim found it hilarious. But then Devon's medical side kicked in and she ordered one of the flight attendants to clean up the cadet across from them. She got up, found a medical kit, and came back, armed with a hypo and quite a few liquid filled bottles.

"Do you have a headache?" she asked, lifting up his eyelids to see if his pupils were dilated.

"Gerroff!" he complained, wiping his mouth. "Dang it, leave me alone!"

"I'm a doctor. I know what's good for you."

"I am too! I think I know better, seeing as you're a kid with a syringe and no know how. How old are you, twelve?"

"Twenty-one."

"I'm twenty five. Ha, you lose. Get off me."

He vomited again, this time into a bucket. Devon exchanged highly amused glances with Jim, who was looking at McCoy with a slightly envious gleam in his eye, as if he envied his sickness...or his being fussed over by a pretty girl.

"No more alcohol for you at any rate. Did you drink that on an empty stomach?" she continued anyway, seemingly unperturbed by the man's gruffness.

"What's it to you?" gasped the groaning man.

"Just trying to help!"

"You're too danged helpful. Go flirt with player-boy, sweetheart, and leave me my pride."

"Lucky for you," she said, ripping a piece of fabric from Jim's shirt and instructing him to wipe Leonard's cold and clammy forehead. "But we're not dating. He's too loose for me."

"Hey!" cried Jim. "Look, confine the clothing removal to a bedroom, will ya? I like you, but I'm not ready for a serious relationship yet!"

"Yeah yeah," Devon said, rolling her eyes. "Because I'm definitely going to try that someday."

"You are so my kind of girl," enthused Jim. They had just gotten off the shuttle. McCoy was propped up between the two of them and Devon had just suggested they go off and find the nearest bar. "Are you sure you don't want to spend some quality time with me once we're settled in?"

"No, Jim. Don't even ask me again or I'll drop kick your sorry hide from here to Houston."

"All Starfleet Academy students, report to the admissions office before noon," Captain Pike announced over a loudspeaker. "You'll receive your assignments and rooms. Do not be late. Orientation tomorrow, and classes the day after. Pike out."

Devon checked her PADD that was stashed in her front pocket. "It's almost ten. We've got time."

Both men looked at Devon.

"What?" she asked. "I don't want to be here, all right?"

"Neither do we," agreed Jim, but McCoy was more curious. After all, the girl had just taken care of him for an hour, and though he had pretended to hate it, it was actually kind of nice.

"But you signed up. You said you had pre-admission to the medical school," Leonard said. "Why would you be here for any other reason besides a last chance or..."

He looked sideways at Jim. "Pathetic-ness?"

"Um, where do you think my bag is? I swear I loaded it the cargo bay..." mumbled Devon, changing the subject uncomfortably.

"Devon," said Jim in mock seriousness, "as your friend of almost two hours, I order you to tell us why you're here."

Devon cracked a smile and pulled her small duffel bag from underneath a pile of other various bags."Listen," she said softly. "You guys are nice. But my story is too gruesome, even for weathered ears like yours."

"C'mon," said McCoy, trying to stand up by himself. "I told you about my danged shrew of an ex wife. Whatever you say can't be worse than that."

Devon clapped the two men on the shoulders. McCoy winced at the blow, but said nothing. "Ya think?"

They laughed, grabbed their luggage (actually, Jim grabbed Devon's, Devon hit him and McCoy groaned at their immaturity) and were off towards the Academy.

"Devon, Devon, Devon," said the attendant, running a practiced finger down a list of names on a PADD. "I don't have you down here. What branch did you say?"

"Medical. And Devon is my first name. I don't have a last."

"Oh," exclaimed the attendant. "OK, that's better."

He found her name, and gave her directions to her new room. "Your roommate is..." He consulted the screen in front of him and frowned. "Hm. That's odd. Usually we arrange rooms by species, but here...And you're obviously human..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" muttered Devon. "I'm not that weird."

The attendant didn't answer, rechecking the data. "Very strange. Well, Ms. Devon, it seems as if you have a Vulcan in your room. Her name is T'pal."

Devon's eyes grew wide. "A Vulcan?"

Jim and McCoy overheard her gasp. "Whoa, you got a Vulcan chick in your room?"

"Vulcan? Have fun with the green blooded computer," McCoy added.

For some reason, Devon reached up underneath her hair and began tugging at her left ear thoughtfully. Her eyes glazed over a bit, and her mind seemed to be light-years away.

"Have you met any Vulcans before?" asked the attendant interestedly. "They can be difficult at times."

He waited politely for an answer, but Devon made no move other than a slight crease of her forehead.

"Miss?"

Still no response.

"Devon?"

"What?" she asked, coming back to the present. "Oh, yeah, I've met quite a few of them. They're so....difficult. Is there any way to switch rooms? I'll do anything!"

Jim looked up, puzzled. Why's she so keen on getting rid of the Vulcan girl?

McCoy was thinking the same thing. That's weird.

"No, I'm sorry but switching is not allowed. You might be able to find someone willing to trade, but you didn't hear that from me."

Devon heaved a sigh. "Great. Now what?"

Jim looked at his room assignment. "Hm...left wing, room 487. Roommate...Leonard McCoy."

He grinned at the disbelieving doctor next to him.

"Let me see that," snapped McCoy, grabbing the paper. He read it once, twice, then three times.

"Oh no," he moaned. Devon laughed delightedly.

"Don't worry, Leonard old boy. I'm sure this is the start of a beautiful friendship," Jim said.

"Really?" asked McCoy. "Because I'm sure this is the start of a disaster."

"No it won't, Leonard, you have my word," said Jim, holding two fingers up like a cub scout. "Hm...Leonard. We're going to have to come up with a nickname for you. 'Leonard' is way too long. What were your parents thinking?"

They split up, making plans to meet up in front of the boys' dormitory at 12:30. Devon plodded towards her building, hesitant to meet her new roommate. She didn't really feel like sharing her room with someone who could read your head just by touching your hand.

It took her twenty minutes to get to her room on the fifth floor of the dorm, which was pretty amazing considering it was only a three minute walk. She reached her room, number 508, and stopped outside her door. She took a breath....and stood motionless for about five more minutes.

Devon finally mustered enough courage to open the door. It hadn't yet locked itself because both of them had not entered the room yet. They'd have to figure out pass codes and stuff, then change them every week. Stupid Starfleet regulation.

She stepped across the threshold. The room was standard, with a bathroom to the direct right and two beds at the end of a short hallway with a dresser opposite each bed.

"Hello?" she called, praying that her roommate would not be there yet.

"Greetings," said a voice with the unmistakable Vulcan tinge. Devon's stomach plummeted. "I am T'pal. What is your name?"

T'pal appeared around the corner. She was Vulcan all right- pale, almost greenish skin, pointed ears, arched eyebrows... What a nightmare.

"I'm Devon," said Devon through clenched teeth. She moved to the untaken bed and put her bag down, took out her clothes, and shoved them in her dresser.

"You are shaking and have stiffened your jaw. Are you cold?"

"No."

"Are you frightened?"

"What the heck would I be scared of?"

"I do not know."

Devon sighed. "Listen, um, T'pal, I'm kind of a private person. I figure that Vulcans are too, right? I don't want to be rude or anything, but I...like to be alone a lot."

It wasn't strictly a lie, but it wasn't strictly true either.

"I understand. My people are very much like yours. I thank you for telling me now as it will save many complexities in the future."

"Yeah...right. Okay."

There was an awkward silence as T'pal watched Devon settle down. Devon was very conscientious of her roommate's silent observation, and she went about her business as quickly as possible while trying to think of some topic to talk about that would alleviate the quiet.

"Oh, we need to come up with some sort of pass code. What should we do this week?"

"There is no need to string numbers together. I have created a list for the next few weeks."

She pressed a few keys on her PADD, transferring the information to Devon's own. The first code was seven digits long.

"And I have programmed the lock to react to these numbers."

"Um, thanks, I guess."

"It was not an issue."

There was another silence, thankfully broken by Devon's communicator whirring and beeping. Muttering a quick "'scuse me," she hurried out of the room.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it worked!" Jim's voice crackled from the speaker.

"Um, what?"

"Well I forgot to get your comm info, so Lion and I contacted the databases and found it. I was convinced that it was wrong, though."

"Lion?"

"Yeah, I was going to shorten his name to Leo, you know, Leonard, but that was too boring. Lion...leo...lion...leo...you get it? Like the constellation. Never mind about that, though. It's old news. How do you feel about a night of amazing things?"

She laughed into the handset. "You sure are eager, aren't you? One smooth talking farm boy."

"That's me. Anyway, you up for it?"

Devon walked down the hall and summoned the lift. "How 'amazing' are you talking here?"

"I thought we could drag Lion along for the ride and celebrate our first night here with a few drinks."

"Celebrate? Try 'forget' or 'escape from.' I hate this place already."

"That's why I called, sweetheart. You seemed down. Good old doctor Jim knew exactly what you needed."

"Don't you dare sweetheart me, James Kirk."

"Fine. What else should I call you?"

"Dev is fine."

"Dev, then."

"What's Lion say?"

"He says he'd be glad to accompany two kids such as ourselves to a bar."

The lift arrived and Devon stepped into it. "Ground floor."

"Okay," she said disbelievingly. Everything she had learned about Leonard McCoy in the past two hours did not add up to such a civil answer. "What did he really say?"

"I'd tell you, but I have a policy of not cussing in front of ladies."

"That bad?"

"You better believe it. Lion here has a pretty foul mouth. I offered to wash out his mouth with soap, but he refused."

"Let me talk to him."

There was a small burst of static, then McCoy's voice crackled through the speakers.

"Leonard McCoy here. Don't you dare try calling me anything different."

"Fine," said Devon, making a mental note to come up with another nickname for the doctor as soon as she could. "Listen, please come with us to the bar. It'll be fun."

"Girlie, my idea of fun is not with you or the idiot I'm forced to call my roommate."

"But I need your help."

"Help doing what? And if you say anything like I think you're going to say – "

"No," said Devon swiftly, her voice strained with barely contained laughter. "It's just that...I have a feeling Jim's not going to be able to walk home by himself tonight."

McCoy grunted with the smallest hint of humor. "That kid has already downed half of my personal supply already. I had to drag him away from my bag by the throat. He'll be dead to the world before you get to the freaking bar."

"Then you should come with us. Here, I'll buy you enough to keep you in stock of whatever you want for the next month. How's that sound?"

"No."

Hm. Time to change tactics.

"How long do you think it'll take Jim to pass out, if he does at all?"

"Half an hour."

"I'll bet you ten credits it'll be forty-five minutes."

"Like...gambling?"

"Yes, you moron."

"Darlin' I'm a doctor, not a billionaire."

"That's fine. It's all in good fun."

"I don't think so."

Okay, so that didn't work. Geez, he's making me not want him along after all. Last ditch tactic.

"Fine, you win. Just do me a favor, will you?"

"What?" asked Lion suspiciously.

"Make sure Jim gets back without injuries, OK? If he doesn't get back to his room, then I probably won't either. Just call security, they can sort it out. I don't like the looks of the people around here. Who knows? They could be hooligans."

Dev eyed the people around her suspiciously as she walked out of the lift. Most of the boys she saw were highly muscled and looked more than capable of handling themselves in a fight. More than one girl had a mean, squinty look about the eyes that immediately marked them as people to be avoided.

Devon heard a sigh on the other end. Bingo.

"You're just like my ex. Always conniving… but my pride won't let me allow a young woman to walk into an unknown place with an idiot like Jim by her side."

"Good. I'll be right over. Room 508?"

"Unfortunately."

"OK, see you soon."

"You're a demon, you know that? An unstoppable force of nature. You're weird."

"Thanks. I don't usually receive such lovely compliments."

She hung up. Maybe Starfleet won't be so insufferable after all…

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-Owly