Checkov was sixteen when we first met. He proved to me that it's possible to be beamed up when standing below an enterprise like ship. One of the students pointed out that I've been writing my 'Vulcan' name as a normal, typical human name. Was there any difference? Of course there is! Vulcans do not have a last name. I've been writing my name mostly as Courtney Winters. . .

"Why does a Vulcan write a name that sounds way too human?"

"Perhaps. . . to mess with your logic, Instructor Whedon."

Whedon sent me a quick, dirty look.

name is H. Joules.

Mind you that this is transporting class; not the same day that I met Chekov. Chekov is a real child prodigy and he might as well graduate before me. He is the luckiest Russian in the entire galaxy who has a big fan base and lots of YouTube videos; there's a ten minute long long clip of Chekov's line 'I can do zat!" That scene is 17 seconds long in Star Trek—The 2009 reboot—just like his age in the movie!

"At least it is better than Courtney Taylor."

"But why do you write your name as Courtney Winters instead of Clenaut?"

"I do not see the logic in slipping your real name to an enemy."

's face is getting red.

"But this is the academy, Miss Clenaut!"

I shrug.

"It's great practice to use a fake alias in the academy." I tell him, with a hand on my chin while wiggling eyebrows at him.

"You sound Scottish." said the complete obvious.

"Instructor, she's been that way for days." A student, who I knew was Joseph Lemur like Zomboomafoo kind of lemur. Joseph has this cute, small rounded ears and his hair is black and white. No, it is really black 'n white like Zomboomafo! With the spots style 'n all. "And I don't know if Vulcan has a Scotland."

Chekov isn't here today because he is sick.

"There is no Scotland on Vulcan." Another student, who's Sarah Dean (An actual normal name, phew), adds.

"Isn't that obvious?" I said, not in the most innocent and unprotected kind of way.

Oh boy; that's when he decided to do something very . . . I really must not put emphasizes on this because it is very unthinkable. assigned me on a transporting mission that lasts for one week. Isn't that a bit much for wanting a Vulcan to write their name? He wanted me to write my Vulcan name instead of my human name: It didn't make sense with the whole fake alias name . . . I cannot really blame him for that.

It's only logical to give paperwork instead of assignments.

Looks like he just defied logical procedures.

. . . Three days later. . .

Chekov is a child prodigy, and of course lots of Trekkies know this. If a trekkie like me had to choose who to be partnered up in a Transportation assignment then all dibs would be on Chekov. Unfortunately didn't allow me to have a partner for this. This week-long assignment involves some 'tinkering'. Tinkering is perhaps a disguise over 'testing'. It's not that shady because all I have to be do is test a few new transportation tech out.

"So this bracelet beamer is a load of crap." I said, tossing the cringly—metal leaf like brace let into a disposer.

"—and this is how a testing transporter assimilation goes in space." I could hear sfrom over the holographic wide screen. "Isn't that right?"

"These are rip offs." I grumble in a low voice. Then I fake a smile, holding up a stop sign shaped plate with floating rings rotating right above the middle. "And yes, it's been a long boring week. This is a small critter transporter. I tested out a small lizard and sent it to Begleizion. I haven't gotten a report if it's gotten there."

"There is not a planet called Begleizion." points out the obvious.

The planet is similar to Earth but not completely; it's got some federation people on there and some dinosaurs. They have discovered tree's that have leafs structured similarly to Tree Stars from a movie involving a long neck called Little Foot and his other dinosaur friends. I've heard they are pulling a Jurassic park on the planet. There are also plans to colonize on the planet so other individuals get to meet dinosaur relatives that are different but not the same as their prehistoric planet's inhabitants.

"Yes, there is." I argue. "Just look behind me at the glas—"

I look over my shoulder to see a floating, mechanical square shaped spaceship. It is huge as a gigantic robot. Cold hard fear went through my veins. My skin may have gone icy cold from the menacing, frightening and dangerous sight. Begleizion is right across from this menacing ship! That planet is in danger.

"Borgs." I whisper.

There are a couple students laughing from behind .

"This is not a matter to laugh over!" scolds the other students.

I turn away from the window feeling many emotions scurring around.

" ,"I said, getting into the main seat in front of the dashboard flat easy to press buttons. "I have sound logic on my side."

"What?" is puzzled.

No one is laughing. I saw Chekov share the same confusion as everyone did.

"But I have to defy my assignment and stop these infectious Borgs from taking over a classified planet!"

I turn on the teleporters; sending them straight to Begleizion.

"What the hell is a Borg?" demands to know what they are; fortunately that question doesn't have the time to be thoroughly explained.

If there is anything else a Vulcan can feel without emotion then it might as well be fear.

"They have a motto; Resistance is futile." I said; turning on the emergency weapon systems. My little ship was in Auto-pilot but now it's changed to being piloted by me. "And they are extremely dangerous. . . And annoying."

I press a few buttons on the flat, technological dashboard that commands laser beams to hit right at the left hand side of the Borg mother ship.

"Stand down, cadet!" orders me.

I dodge a few of the blasts; swinging the ship left to right—but I am not invisible to being hit. A blast hit the two wing section of the spacecraft. The alarms started going off. The lights turn from a harmless yellow to a deadly red.

"I'm judging that you have never seen a Vulcan do something reckless." I note out loud.

"Klenaut!" Chekov yells. "Zey are probably harmless!"

I smile, shooting at random parts of the mothership that is insanely still firing at me.

"Chekov," I said. "They are not logical enough to be harmless. They are contagious." I fire at the Borgs shot and stopped it from hitting my ship. "They touch you; boom! You are a machine! I come from a universe where there's a franchise called Star Trek—" The side of the ship has been struck. "Wow that's gotta hurt-And there is eleven movies."

"You sound insane." Chekov said.

I laugh at how adorable Chekov is speaking.

"Wish I were insane." I said, with a sigh. . . Right after I stopped laughing.

is calling someone in the federation.

"You should stop before this kills you." Joseph Lemur said. "Stop firing before it gets out of hand—"

"This is out of hand, and I'm saving your butts." I then fire repeatedly at the ship.

The ship shook unexpectedly that a man would have been forced to throw up.

"Stand down;" Mr. Joules repeats. "There is back up coming."

I turn away from the window towards the holographic screen as my eyes are frozen and my fingers are trembling.

"I do not see logic in infecting other ships." I flip up a switch. "Hey Chekov."

"Vhat?" Chekov said.

I held my hand up, and then did the Vulcan sign.

"Live long and prosper." Chekov's face becomes really white. The other students sat there unable to say a word.

"Kle—"

I terminate the connection, as my right hand slammed on the large button below that flipped up switch. This ship was equipped with the best weapons in case Klingons attacked and wanted to get the tech onboard. The Borg mothership is starting to explode. I cannot allow casualties for a bright future that may seem bleak to different people. A large metal ball flew out the exploding mother borg ship.

I hail the small ship.

"Hello." I said, seeing the body-less creator of the borgs floating by wires keeping her to the ceiling. "I am Clenaut; I am physically from Vulcan but I am mentally from Earth. And you little," I saw her eyes are full of anguish, "manipulative AI is going down. Don't bother infecting this ship." I then activate the self-destruct sequence. "We are either coming down; one way or the other!"

"You wouldn't!" The AI said; I am not sure if she would really say things like that.

I smile, with a laugh.

"Remember the face that stopped you." I said, in a sincere-dire and threatening way. "Remember me."

The AI Borg sneers, shouting an order to one of her well disgusted-machine creations as the metal ball is starting to be surrounded by a blue gas. There is no way in hell that I am letting them time travel into the future or the past! I will not stand by and see them cause a massive extinction, not again. First time around was in Star Trek: First Contact, technically.

I didn't notice a row of yellow rings rotating around my head, hands, arms, legs, and etc. . . as I crashed into the big ball of metal-bent material.