And the final chapter is among us! This was also written for the Awesome Ladies Ficathon. The prompt was for the women of Jim Kirk's class at the Academy, and I hope I succeeded in capturing that. (And I threw in some Number One, because she's just too awesome to leave out.)

Bethany Maddoc brings him cookies three days after the Narada disappears in a swirling cloud of energy and the screech of metal being compressed and ripped apart. She doesn't knock first.

"Um, thanks," he mumbles, not sure what the protocol is for stuff like this. He knows girls, he's friends with girls (or was, some of them; something in him still can't believe Gaila's gone)

"The Enterprise," she says, non sequitur. Jim raises an eyebrow. "My mom made them. I just thought you might need them more than I do, is all."

He gives Bethany a grin, shy and embarrassed at the edges. She smiles back; she's got a nice smile.

She goes for the door, then stops, abruptly. "We've got to stick together, you know. Those of us left."

Jim nods at her back. "Thanks for the cookies, Beth."

Nyota sits in the creaky leather chair, feeling like she's in grief counseling. With the world's worst therapist. She stares at her nails.

"I'm fine, okay?"

Her advisor shakes her head, straightening the end of one instructors-gray sleeve. Her hair is in a practical bun behind her head; her blue eyes are clear and sharp. It makes Nyota squirm like a five-year-old, every time.

"Commander..."

"You may call me Number One, if you wish."

Nyota's nail bites into the side of her finger sharply. She chews on the inside of her lip. "Number One, then."

"You have applied for the position of Chief Communications Officer aboard the Enterprise?" Number One's icy blue eyes regard Nyota. It's... Kind of eerie.

Nyota nods. "It's... I belong there. Number One."

"I know the feeling. If your captain is at all like mine, I believe he will need you."

Unexpectedly, Nyota laughs. The atmosphere loses some tension, warmth finally seeping into the conversation. "Yeah, me too."

"No, yeah, I totally agree with you, okay?" Jim says to the coalition of uniformed women crowded into his dorm room. "I mean, not like you don't all look hot in those skirts or anything-especially you, Uhura, damn-but okay, you're right, it's a little sexist. I just don't know what I can do about it, you know?"

Janice Rand holds out a PADD, tapping against the screen with the stylus. "That's why we drew this up," she says. "Just sign."

Jim looks up at her in amazement. "Okay, you're brilliant. Who do you belong to?"

Janice glares at him. "I resent that comment, Kirk. I've been assigned to be Lt. Commander Scott's yeoman." She can't exactly contain a vague sense of disgust. Jim grins.

"Okay, forget that shit. Scotty doesn't have any use for you, trust me. You'd tear all your hair out within three days trying to organize and clean up after him. As of now, your brilliance is mine." He punctuates with a flick of his wrist and a signature before winking at Uhura and Charlene Masters. "Leggings, nice. Sounds like you two. Now get the hell out, will you all? I have to convince a stubborn Vulcan not to go home and breed. Have a nice day, ladies."

They can't all be there, of course. A good percentage of the Fleet is gone; there are gaps to be filled. But they're there, a lot of them. As many as can get signed on. (Gender ratio is an almost perfect 45-45, give or take 5-10% for beings with multiple or nonexistant genders.)

Jim Kirk is the only one from their graduating class to be a captain-of course, did anyone expect that to happen twice?

Bethany isn't the only one who thinks they need to stick together, as much as they can. They're the youngest crew, on average, of any ship in the Fleet, the highest percentage ever all from a single graduating class. And they're damn proud.

Jim Kirk is damn proud.

He's in the 'lift, on his way to the bridge-his bridge-bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation. The doors slide open on deck seven, and Uhura gets in, giving him a slightly teasing grin.

"You'd better not fuck this up, Kirk, you dumb hick."

"I don't intend to, Lieutenant," he says, grinning ear to ear, all teeth.

Number One slips in next to him, silent in that way she's always had. It's saved Christopher Pike's life more times than he can count, but it can be damn unnerving sometimes.

"Yes, First Officer?"

She smiles, that tiny smile people who aren't him rarely notice. "You still believe there is something Starfleet has lost, Captain?"

He looks over at her, pride glowing in gray eyes. "I think we may have just gotten it back."

She nods. "I cannot argue with your assessment, in this case. A former student of mine, Nyota Uhura, will be the Communications Officer. She will perform admirably, I think. As will they all."

"Roger that, Number One. We raised those kids good, didn't we?"

"Affirmative."

Christopher laughs. "Oh hey, did I tell you that thing about the leggings? It's hilarious-and completely brilliant. I think you would approve..."