Normally, I save my author's notes until the end of the first chapter, if I do any in the first chapter at all. But this isn't necessarily an author's note. It's more of a dedication.

As I've told you all in previous installments, I have this series pre-written. I began it in September 2015, not too long after I became a Trekkie. (If you noticed any discrepancies in the accuracy of certain things in my previous installments, especially Breathe, I blame it on my being relatively new to the world of Star Trek.)

There's really no need to tell you all who my favorite characters are. Considering the fact that this series has focused on them, I'm particularly fond of Bones, Jim, and Chekov - but especially Chekov.

When you get attached to a character, you automatically tend to get attached to the person who plays them. You all know this, of course. And it certainly rang true in this case. Honestly, I don't think I've ever been more attached to an actor or actress than I was to Anton Yelchin. Why am I bringing this up now, when I could have done it any time in previous installments?

Because I finished writing this particular installment on June 18th, 2016. That day shouldn't mean that much to you, but the next one should.

I won't lie. I considered not continuing this series after this one. I had a massively long timeline planned out, but it could very easily end with this third installment. And honestly, writing it was kind of hard for a while after Anton's death. I ended up taking a break from the series for a while, because how do you grieve for someone you never even knew, but who meant a lot to you?

I decided to continue, however. After finishing up posting Echoes of the Past, I waited to post this one until the new year, mostly because I'm fairly big on symbolism, and I think it's symbolic of leaving the past in the past. But leaving the past behind doesn't mean you forget. And it doesn't mean that the events or people you leave there are any less important.

Also, because it's 2017. There are other reasons I find that symbolic for this particular installment. :)

I've already written my tribute fic. You can check it out, if you want. It's called We're Not Ready, and I published it back in September. This isn't my tribute, but I would like to dedicate it. In my opinion, there's a difference. It wasn't written for Anton specifically, but every installment of this series from here on out, I will always write with him on my mind. So here goes:

In Memory of Anton Yelchin

Captain Christopher Pike looked up at the knock on his open door. "Spock," he said. "I was just about to head out for the day. Something on your mind?"

Spock, as cold as ever, said, "I am troubled by numerous things, Captain, but one specifically which I have come to address with you."

Pike gestured for him to sit down. It was generally protocol for the lower ranking officer to remain standing, but Pike disliked that particular piece of regulation. He reserved it for reprimands. Spock, however, chose to remain standing, typical of his Vulcan compulsion for rule-following.

Pike frowned and studied his future first officer. There wasn't much to distinguish Spock as a human, but for his eyes. They were human, closely resembling those of the commander's mother. Not a lot of people knew this, but Pike had actually been a friend of Amanda Grayson's when they were young. It had never been anything more. In fact, he'd regarded her much as a younger sister. So he found it utterly confounding that such a warm, congenial woman could have given birth to such an emotionless being as Spock.

Though, having met Sarek, Spock's father, Pike supposed it wasn't too off-beat of an assumption that his offspring would be this way.

Yet Pike knew that a bit of Amanda resided in her son, and he was determined to draw it out, or at least see it drawn out. Spock had never completed Kolinahr, the Vulcan ceremony to purge himself of all emotion, so there must have been some human left in him. And Pike would be damned if he didn't find it when this man served under him.

It had partly been because of his friendship with Spock's mother that he'd requested her son as his first officer. Though Spock's impressive record with Starfleet certainly did not hurt. Shaking these thoughts aside, Pike sat back in his chair and gestured for Spock to speak.

"Say your piece, Commander."

Dare he say it, Spock looked almost – sheepish? Yes, yes that was the term. Pike felt a slight surge of victory as the human side of Spock slipped through.

"I have come to discuss the matter of the Communications officers on the Enterprise," Spock began. Pike bit back a sigh of exasperation. They'd been over this numerous times, and he was about two headaches away from giving Spock a good tongue lashing and a reprimand for questioning his judgment.

"I don't see what we have left to discuss, Commander," he said. "I have already told you, on the Enterprise's first mission, I will test whether Cadet Bartowski has been successful in her endeavor to my satisfaction, and if so – "

"It was not Cadet Bartowski to whom I was referring, Captain," Spock interrupted.

Taken a bit aback by the interruption, Pike vaguely wondered if mentioning Karina Bartowski had somehow invoked her presence, making it invade the room. Lord knew the cadet interrupted him enough as it was, and there had to be some explanation for why Spock had decided to do so, right?

"I was referring to Cadet Uhura," Spock continued.

Pike frowned. They were back to this. "I understand that for all protocol purposes, she's earned the position, Spock. But I don't think we can exactly ignore the fact that Cadet Bartowski was instrumental in saving Starfleet at least once last year, if not twice." Though he still wasn't entirely sure if the incident with the Russians counted.

"I had not come to insinuate that the cadet was unqualified for the position, nor undeserving," Spock said. "I apologize if my previous visits have caused you to leap to that conclusion."

What was your first clue? Pike wondered.

"Cadets Bartowksi and Uhura have both shown prowess in their field," Spock said. "Which is why I believe, Captain, that it would only be fair to transfer the lieutenant to another starship, where she could serve in the capacity for which she is trained, for which she is fully capable."

Pike frowned. "You seem to be fond of Uhura, Spock," he said. Well, as fond as a Vulcan could be of someone. "Is there a particular reason to request her transfer to another ship, besides the one you have mentioned? Even if she were transferred, more than likely she'd be serving in the same capacity that she would be on the Enterprise. I know you wouldn't suggest this if there weren't a logical reason behind it, Commander."

Pike's jaw nearly dropped. Spock was squirming. It was the sort of squirming you wouldn't notice if a human did it, just an uncomfortable shifting in his chair. But with Spock, it was the most noticeable thing imaginable. What could possibly cause him to –

Suddenly it clicked for him. Christopher Pike was torn between rubbing his aching forehead in frustration and laughing out loud.

"Spock," he began, trying to keep his voice steady. "You didn't."

Spock remained uncomfortable.

"You haven't."

"I'm afraid I have, Captain," Spock replied. "I accept the consequences of my actions and will fully endorse whatever – "

"Consequences?" Pike sputtered. "My word, man! Senior officers have affairs with their cadets every day! Not that I've ever done it. Be that as it may, I still should report it." Pausing, Pike frowned, considering the matter. "And you still haven't explained why you want Uhura transferred. If anything, this should make you want her on the Enterprise all the more! So why would you recommend her transferal?"

Spock raised an eyebrow, as though his reasons should have been obvious. "To avoid the appearance of favoritism, of course, Captain."

Pike's mind was made up. He was officially going with the rubbing his aching forehead option.

"Naturally," he said. "It's only the logical thing to do, am I right?"

"Precisely, sir."

"And you don't fear the consequences this may have in your relationship with the cadet in the long run?"

Spock frowned. "Cadet Uhura will react in whichever way she chooses. To fear that which one cannot control is illogical."

Coming from anyone but Spock, that would have sounded nothing short of blasé. Pike knew better. Spock was incapable of such a thing.

"I will…consider it, Commander," he began. In spite of the deal he had made with Cadet Bartowski, to lose Cadet Uhura's services would be a blow to the Enterprise.

"Captain Everett of the USS Farragut expressed interest, sir," Spock went on.

Pike rolled his eyes. "Of course, he did," he replied. Of course, you did, he thought. "I'll speak to Everett and see what I can do. Mind you, this means nothing. I may be rewarding Bartowski, but having the first in class in most of the fields available will be preferable."

"If I may speak freely, sir?"

Haven't you already been? "I welcome it, Commander."

"Cadet Osbourne is top of her class. As are Cadets McCoy, Sulu, and Chekov – "

"Chekov isn't a for sure yet," Pike interjected, suddenly glad Spock was here. He'd never been able to remember the Russian kid's name, and it had been rather awkward not bringing him up the entire conversation, though he was a rather important component in this situation.

"Even so, should these not be sufficient for your purposes? Surely the fact that we are the newest starship in the fleet alone should not be enough to monopolize all of the best cadets."

Spock was appealing to Pike's sense of accountability and fairness, and he didn't like it. And all the while, he knew the commander was subtly hinting that he wanted a definite answer. Hating the feeling of manipulation, Pike decided being generous just this once couldn't hurt.

"Very well, Commander. I will see to Cadet Uhura's transfer. Dismissed."

Cadets milled about across the Starfleet commons, their red uniforms flashing against the blue San Francisco sky. The city had recently employed anti-smog deflectors, which were doing wonders for the overall atmosphere. The austere white Academy building loomed large against the horizon. Most first-year cadets found that structure rather intimidating, foreboding even.

But for the four cadets descending the stairs from the Academy, this was nothing short of home.

Well, one of them might not consider it as such. Leonard "Bones" McCoy looked over at Jim Kirk, who had a far too ecstatic grin on his face for Bones' personal comfort. "Why are you so happy?"

Next to Bones, Camille Osbourne rolled her eyes and Karina Bartowski, on the other side of Jim, merely flipped through some papers she'd been holding and muttering to herself about, not even aware of what was going on around her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jim replied.

"No, I don't suppose you do," Bones quipped, by this point not even shocked enough to be exasperated.

Jim eyed a pair of female cadets who passed on Karina's right. Of course, the kid didn't notice a thing, but Jim was never going to pass up an opportunity to flirt.

"Hello, ladies," he said. Neither of them gave him a second glance, but it didn't seem to faze him.

Camille reached across Bones and smacked Jim on the arm as they walked. "Can you keep it under control for one minute, Romeo, and answer Bones' question? I, for one, am very curious."

"I'm taking the test again," Jim replied, as though commenting on the weather.

That got even Karina's attention. Camille's jaw dropped, and Bones exclaimed, "You've gotta be kidding!"

"Yeah, tomorrow morning, and I want you there. All of you."

Bones glared. "You know, I've got better things to do than watch you embarrass yourself for a third time."

"I don't," Camille muttered, receiving a death glare from the doctor.

"Unfortunately, I do, too," Karina said, going back to flipping through the stack of papers. "Sorry, Jim, my day tomorrow is pretty packed."

"Again?" Camille groaned. "Kari, we never see you anymore!"

"Can't be helped, Cam. Once we're on the Enterprise, you can see me as much as you like."

"Yeah, yeah, Kari's got her hands full with the Russian kid. Anyway, point is: I'm a doctor, Jim. I'm busy," Bones continued, the growl evident in his voice.

"Bones, it doesn't bother you that no one's passed the test?"

"Jim, it's the Kobayashi Maru. No one passes the test, and no one goes back for seconds, let alone thirds."

"Much as I hate to admit it, Jim, he's got a point," Camille interjected.

Jim looked to Karina, hoping to get some support from his little ally, but she was, once more, fully immersed in what was in front of her. Shaking it off, Jim turned back to the other two and clapped Bones on the shoulder. "I gotta study."

Bones shook his head as he and the girls made their way in the opposite direction. "Study, my ass," he muttered.

Camille shrugged. "You know, the least we can do is be there for him, Bones. He may be a glutton for punishment, but he's our glutton for punishment. Besides, I kind of like the Kobayashi Maru." When he gave her a look clearly questioning her sanity, she shrugged. "What? How often do I get to have my console explode and not die? It's kind of fun, if I'm being quite honest with you."

Bones rolled his eyes. "You're unbelievable, woman."

"I know," she said, grinning impishly. Then she affected a glare and turned to Karina. "However, you know what's even more unbelievable? The fact that I room with this kid and she isn't even around half the time. I mean, I've heard of workaholics, Kar, but you may just be the worst I've ever met."

Karina raised an eyebrow at her. "Fine, Cam. You try teaching someone English in under a year. Then we can talk. 'Kay?"

Camille laughed it off. In the end, she knew Karina was just doing what she had to do and wasn't purposefully neglecting them. "So how is Yoko doing, out of curiosity?"

Karina, not inclined to understand sarcasm when feeling slightly attacked, rolled her eyes. "For the last time, his name's Pavel. And second of all, great, actually. I think we can do this. I mean, what's the earliest time we could get called onto the Enterprise? Four months. No problem."

"And do you actually talk in anything besides Russian, or is that a thing of the past yet?" Bones asked.

Karina glanced up at him, then frowned. Abruptly, she said, "Incidentally, this is where I part ways with you two. See you later tonight, Cam."

Camille called after her retreating back, "If I'm not asleep by the time you get home!"

Still distracted by what was in her hands, Karina found herself nearly running into someone, until a pair of very familiar hands reached out and grabbed her, stopping her dead in her tracks. "Don't even think about it."

Upon hearing the Russian words, she looked up and grinned. "Haven't I broken the habit by now?"

"The man has to be a masochist," Bones muttered, pacing back and forth in Camille and Karina's room. "That's the only possible explanation. Why else would he do this to himself?"

Camille, sitting on her bed criss cross, just listened, smiling to herself.

"It's bad enough that you're constantly injuring yourself and Karina's getting herself involved in one international and or galactic crisis after another, but you'd think Jim would have mercy on my poor nerves and try to conserve at least a little bit of his dignity, right?"

"You really care about him, don't you?" Camille asked out of the blue.

Bones snorted in derision, then shrugged. "I suppose so, dammit."

Camille grinned. "How on earth could I tell?" Sliding her feet out so she was sitting on the edge of the bed, she asked, "So, how's Joanna doing?"

Bones face softened a little at the mention of his five-year-old daughter. He slid into Karina's desk chair and shook his head. Camille felt a bit of trepidation.

"What is it, Bones? Is she okay?"

Bones threw his hands up in the air.

"She's perfectly fine! It's my parents I'm having troubles with. They insist that Joanna's better off with them. That she's used to them by now, and that I shouldn't uproot her from her home when I didn't even have the nerve to stay with her there. Well, did I mention to them that her mother is still out there, and still crazy? It's better for everyone involved if Nancy doesn't know where I am. And if I went back home, she'd know!"

Camille's heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. "You – you've considered moving back to Georgia, then?"

Bones seemed to realize what he'd let slip. Sighing, he sat back in the chair.

"I have to think about what's best for her, Cam," he said. "If I had my choice, no. I would do no such thing. But she needs her father. However, it would be safer for her to have him here, in San Francisco, where her crazy mother can't track her. If she knows I have Joanna…" His voice trailed off as he considered the unthinkable. "She'd take her. Disappear from the face of the planet, possibly literally. Not because she wants to have her daughter, but because she knows it'll cause me pain. And I will never see her again."

There was silence in the room for a long moment. Camille contemplated the possibility of Bones leaving Starfleet. If she'd been in his place, what would she have done? Dropping off the face of the earth with his daughter, like his wife would do if she got the chance to, seemed like the best plausible option.

But Camille didn't want Bones to leave, for goodness sake. The man was so much more than a friend to her by now. It wasn't mutually established, but she was pretty sure he knew how she felt, and she could tell he felt the exact same way. It had been simply a matter of him getting over himself and his stubborn Southern ways so far and just admitting it.

If Camille were being honest, it was a bit of a pride thing for her, as well. She would not take anything less than Bones making the first move. But if he left Starfleet…

Was she going to regret not telling him what had been on her mind – and heart – for so long?

"Okay…explain to me the difference between a prodigy and a prodigal."

Seeing right through that lame attempt, Chekov gave Karina a look. "You're just bored at this point, aren't you?"

She glared right back at him. "Hey, didn't we say it was English from here on out, mister?"

He shrugged. "I don't particularly remember there being a 'we' about it…"

When her glare grew more intense, he threw his hands up in resignation and said, "Fine." Switching over from Russian to English, he said, "A prodigy is…" His voice trailed off. "Vy is your language so confusing, Karina? Zeese words are so close together."

She rolled her eyes and began to explain. Chekov smiled to himself. He knew Karina liked to think she had him wrapped around her finger – and, if he was being honest, she kind of did. But manipulation was something he'd learned from a young age. You kind of had to know it when your father was an illegal arms dealer who murdered people on a regular basis, for no particular reason than that it was just an unspoken rule. So he could do a bit of finger-wrapping of his own.

No, he knew the definition of both terms. He just liked hearing her give it.

"Okay, if only to refresh your memory," she began, then noticed him grinning. "What?"

"Nothing. Go on."

"So, a prodigy is…what you are," she said, and he was a little taken aback.

"Zat vas new," he commented.

"Maybe if I apply it, it'll stick," Karina continued. "Anyway, you're a prodigy. It means someone smarter or better at something than most their age. You, for example… Well, if we're not applying the 'smarter in general' thing here, we're going to go with you're better at Starfleet's entrance exams than most. That make sense?"

Chekov nodded. "So, vouldn't zat make you a prodigy, too, zen?"

She shrugged. "Ah. The only thing I'm really better at is speaking multiple languages. I'm not a genius or anything, that's for sure. The only reason I got into Starfleet was because they recruit from orphanages all the time, on nothing but the word of their contacts at said orphanage. These tend to be fairly reliable people. Mine was actually a woman who served as a Communications officer for several years before taking her vows. So, there's me. Completely average, yet still in Starfleet."

His eyes were popping out of his head, he was sure. There she sat, fully unaware of just how smart she was, playing it off like it was nothing. It didn't exactly come natural to a fool to teach themselves twenty different languages, yet she'd done it, and she was completely discrediting herself.

Chekov didn't have long to contemplate this, however, because she'd moved her eyes away from her hands, where they'd been only two seconds earlier, back up to him. Her eyes narrowed.

"Are you staring at me, Pavel Chekov?"

For not the first time in his life, he physically felt his mind backpedaling and forced himself to blink. "Net," he said, also not for the first time in his life – in this entire friendship, for that matter – totally lying about that fact. "So, vat about ze other vord… prodigal?"

Karina, seeming to his utter relief to forget about the last bit of their conversation, actually brightened up a bit. With her disposition normally sunny nowadays, he didn't think it was possible, but there it was.

"Prodigal? Oh, well, that's a bit more like what I am. I'm pretty sure if the nuns found out all the international and/or intergalactic crises I'd gotten myself involved in, they'd be pretty disappointed in me. I don't exactly fit the definition of 'meek and quiet spirit' that they attempted to drill into us girls."

Chekov had to at least half smile at that one. No, in fact, she did not. Karina wasn't what you'd call intimidating – though sometimes she had a tendency to leave him tongue-tied. But she wasn't exactly quiet, either. Often he wondered if just by being friends with her for a little under a year he'd need hearing aids at an early age. It wasn't that she was loud. Just constantly chattering about something.

"Vell, vouldn't I fit zat too, zen? I mean, I don't exactly make my father proud, if you know what I mean."

Karina, not seeing his point, immediately leapt to his defense. "Yeah, but your father is sitting on his evil butt in a prison somewhere in the middle of the Mojave Desert. His opinion is invalid."

"Da, but vat I vas actually saying… Both of zese terms vould apply to both of us, right?"

Seeming to see his point of view, she grinned. "We're a pair of prodigals and prodigies."

"Good alliteration."

"Nice identification of literary device."

They fell into a rare silence for a few moments – well, rare for Karina. Then she asked, "So, how's your sister doing?"

Slightly uncomfortable, Chekov shrugged. "Good, as far as I know."

"As far as you know? Wait…" Karina frowned. "Pavel, have you made any contact with her since your father got arrested?"

"I hef! She's the one who's not responding."

"Why not?"

"Do I look as zo I know?" Chekov asked, his frustration evident. Karina decided to let the subject drop.

"Have you heard from Captain Pike?" she asked, in an attempt to assuage what had gone down.

He looked up, his eyes narrowed. "No, hef you? In ze last six months?"

"Not really…" Karina said, her eyebrows creasing in worry.

Neither of them said it, but they were certainly thinking it: Had Pike forgotten about them? Was the man irritated with the trouble the pair of them had caused back in January? In their defense, it had mostly been the older Mr. Chekov who'd caused that, but, as the Starfleet cadets involved, some of the responsibility had to fall on them, as well, of course.

Karina hadn't heard from Pike since he'd called her in to meet someone who used to work with her dad. She'd told Chekov about the encounter and he, personally, figured that was why she'd been in such a good mood the past six months. It had everything to do with all of the mystery surrounding her parent's deaths being cleared up, and he was glad for it. Karina had been fun to be around even in her moody state, but he did rather like the happy version of her.

"Ken we svitch back to Russian yet?" he asked, hoping once more to break the silence.

Shaking her head as though to clear it, Karina said, "Yeah, of course. Sorry. Just figured I'd test out your English abilities. You're doing great at this, Pavel. Seriously, there's not much more I can teach you. It's just a matter of waiting until we graduate and then getting Pike's approval once we're on the Enterprise."

If he still wanted them there.

"What do you think our first mission will be?"

Karina shrugged. "Something relatively simple, no doubt. It'll be the ship's maiden voyage, after all. They won't want to risk too much." She paused, then asked the question each was wondering about the other. "You nervous?"

He considered hiding it for a moment, then thought better of it. Why lie when it was so utterly far from the truth? "Sure. Aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Sure."

In fact, Karina was more nervous than she'd ever been in her life, but she was normally such a confident person, she didn't want to lose that image, even with Pavel, who was one of her best friends. Not just yet, anyway. She figured there would be enough time to show her nervousness the first day on the job.

However, he gave her that look, and she sighed. How was he so good at reading her? She'd seen him try to read other people before, and he was actually pretty good at it. But when he got it wrong, things got explosive. In fact, she was fairly certain he'd come rather close to getting punched in the face by Juliet on occasion. He was bound and determined that Juliet had hidden feelings for Sulu and, in a rare moment of tactlessness on his part, had mentioned it. Karina had had to diffuse that situation rather quickly.

"How do you do that?" she asked him flat out. "You never can do that with anyone else."

Chekov shrugged. In all honesty, he used to be able to do it with most people, but he wasn't sure what had happened since he'd come to Starfleet. Perhaps it was the year of near isolation, but he just wasn't as in tune to the emotions of other people as he used to be. Unless, for some odd reason, it was Karina. He could read her effortlessly.

"Well, if it satisfies you, yes, I am a little nervous," she said, still insisting on downplaying it. "But I think we'll be okay, you know? Like I said, you're getting good at this."

She glanced down at her communicator. "Good lord, were you aware it was midnight?"

Chekov shook his head. "I wasn't keeping track."

Karina smirked. "Well, that's a first." She stood, grabbing her bag. "See you tomorrow, then?"

He returned the smirk. "See you then."

Karina made her way down the corridors. Glancing around the corner, she found herself glaring at Uhura's room. Why, she didn't know. Ever since she'd found out the older cadet was her competition for the position on the Enterprise, and even more so since Captain Pike had stopped contacting her, Karina had become almost a bit of a stalker to Uhura. She wouldn't have even known where her room was before, but now every time she passed by, she just had to eye it disdainfully.

The last thing she expected, however, was to see James Tiberius Kirk being shoved out in nothing but his underwear, an infuriated Uhura standing in the doorway, also down to nothing but her delicates.

"No! Good night!"

"I think the fact that you picked up a transmission is very interesting – "

Whatever else he was going to say was cut off by the slamming door sliding shut right in front of his face.

He turned away, that devilish grin on his face, but it disappeared as soon he whirled and saw her standing there.

The look of irritation on her face said it all. Not even Jim knew of Karina's rivalry with Uhura, but he'd somehow gotten the impression she wasn't exactly fond of the woman. The guilt on his face was apparent, and Karina couldn't help but smirk a little, slightly satisfied with the fact that she could strike fear into his heart.

"I swear, it wasn't – not her – I mean – no," he finished lamely.

Karina shook her head, laughing. "Oh, pipe down, Jim, I know your type runs more toward Gaila. Why would you have a human when you could have an Orion, anyway?"

"You know me far too well, kid," Jim said, beginning to re-don his pants.

"Of course I do. Now go get some sleep. You need to be fully awake if you're going to make a fool of yourself a third time."

"Sure you don't want to be my communications expert for this one?" Jim asked, the look in his eyes almost pleading. Sheepishly, he glanced back at Uhura's door, and then turned back to her. "That one is slightly scary."

Karina laughed. "Sorry, Jim. I actually do have class during the test, okay? I'm not just ditching you guys again."

Jim shrugged, now fully clothed, and straightened up. "If you say so, kid."

As she walked off down the hallway, he looked after her, shaking his head and walking back toward his room. "I give it two months," he said, mentally making a wager with himself.