A/N: I thought I'd work on something a bit more manageable since finals season is upon us. This'll be a sporadically updating series about crew character development from McCoy's perspective.
I hope you enjoy it!
He knew Jim Kirk would never meet a stranger.
Leonard could barely see the spiky top of Jim's head for all the hoodie'd minions he had gathered around him. They were hanging on every word as Jim outlined his latest scheme, and not for the first time, Leonard was glad he was in a whole different division.
As much as Starfleet was an exploratory organization, it was also, to some extent, an institute of higher education. Leonard had already gone through all the razzle-dazzle of university orientation at Ole Miss, so he was really more of a bystander than a participant in this madness. All the cadets that hoped to find themselves in Starfleet Blues currently surrounded him. Unlike Jim's mob of Command hopefuls who were all huddled and nodding like a hive-mind, there was a schism in the ranks of Leonard's department.
"It should be Sciences and Medical! We can't represent one without the other!"
"It's all technically Sciences anyway! You try coming up with a cheer that can incorporate both!"
Leonard sighed. Children. I'm surrounded by children. He glanced around at the other 30-somethings hanging out at the back of the section. For this year's Cadet Camp, Starfleet had decided on equal parts hep-and-pep and departmental bonding or some such thing. They'd all been lumped into groups by division. None of the other 'old-timers' seemed interested in the debate in the slightest. They were sitting, standing, or in one man's case sleeping in their little corner of the stadium.
He glanced over to the Engineering/Operations section, which had apparently not succumbed to petty dispute over departmental lines. Though less organized than Jim's little cult, the cadets in red didn't seem to be doing half bad for themselves. They'd elected a council of four or five people to come up with a cheer for them, and then teach it to the rest of the group.
Frankly, Leonard didn't understand why this was even mandatory. They weren't some SEC hopeful school with a football team to back. He shuddered at the memory of his last-ever trip to an away game, where the Fightin' Texas Fan-base nearly ruptured his eardrums. He'd about had it with synchronized screaming.
"Well, we had a cheer, but somebody shot it down!" The argument picked up in volume down on the lower rows.
"That's because it was awful. We're not getting to eat first with a flat-lining cheer like that."
Leonard sighed and dropped onto the bench. He was done. From the looks of the Camp directors on the stadium floor, they'd be called upon to present their cheers any minute now. That guy down in front was right. They were definitely eating last.
Worst part is, Jim'll rub it in my face later on. 'Why the long face, Bones? Didn't have any dinner, Bones?' If only I hadn't thrown up on 'im, then he'd'a left me alone…
He was pulled from his melancholy thoughts by a shrill whistle. Showtime. The kids down in front were really panicking, forgetting their differences in a moment of blind panic.
"Alright, alright! We'll just go with his thing! Everybody get ready!"
So much for sitting. Leonard dragged himself back to his feet. The Camp Director, a retired Admiral with a particular passion for making today's youth suffer, held out a PADD like he was actually grading them, not watching videos on the net.
The frantic whisper died as his department was called on to present.
"Ready, everybody…?" A timid voice called from the front row. "Okay…"
The half-hearted cheer proceeded.
"S-C-I-E-N-C-E. Best squad in the galaxy. Aaaaaaaay BLUE!"
The thirty voices were met with polite applause from the rest of the stadium. Leonard rolled his eyes.
The tiny group of 'judges' turned their attention to the next, and largest, section. Despite their rough organization, Leonard figured they could give Jim a run for his money with sheer volume. True, the kid had some sorta irresistible charm that'd make these cadets bend over backwards to win his favor. He probably had them eating out of his hand, each mentally practicing their part of whatever elaborate production he'd outlined for them. Honestly, Leonard wouldn't be surprised by a musical number and pyrotechnics at this point.
A bigger guy down in the hot-seat cleared his throat.
"Warp core! Phaser 'rray! What does Operations say? Daaaang, we look good! Daaaang we look good!"
The little chant was accompanied by a sliding, sidestepping move that a couple of the kids were really getting down to. If anything, they had spirit. Leonard supposed 'flat-lining' was an appropriate description for his neck of the woods…
The Camp Director nodded approvingly and moved along the ring. Oh, here we go. Leonard prepared himself for the worst. No doubt, Jim, in true ringleader fashion, would direct his mob of followers in some high-precision, over-the-top-
Jim emerged from the excited swarm. He threw a grin over his shoulder at his crew, and then managed to find Leonard in the crowd. The cocky little punk winked.
The whole stadium fell silent, waiting. After an appraising glance at his audience, Jim smiled. He held up a hand. The cadets in yellow stood at attention. Jim's fingers ticked down.
Three.
Two.
One.
He threw his head back.
"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-"
"OH!"
The entire building shook with the section's response. Why that clever son of a gun… But, Jim continued.
"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-"
"OH!"
"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-" "OH!" "Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-" "OH!
The Camp Director clapped. They didn't stop.
The whole section was in a frenzy. Jim was waving his arms like a conductor, goading them all into a faster, louder chant.
Then, he was marching. Marching away from the judges, leading his whole section down and out of their seats. Out the side door, the one Leonard knew led to the cafeteria. He shook his head. Jim could organize a line of convicts into a Sunday school production.
They were gone. The rest of the camp was left in stunned silence. Leonard was resigned to his fate, taking his seat again as the call of Command echoed in the distance.
"Y-E-L-L! EVERYBODY YELL-"
"OH!"
A/N: Well, whaddya think? Drop me a line and tell me what you liked or better yet: Tell me who you'd like to see a one-shot on or what you'd like to see one about!
For anyone who's never been, this is exactly what Transfer Camp is like.