Perfectly Logical
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it's not mine.
Chapter Eleven: The First Semester
"Hey, hey! Cadet! What are you doing?"
Tasha looked up to see an old man running at her. "Is there a problem, sir?"
"Don't call me sir. The name's Boothby. And don't you dare try to pick my tulips!"
"I wasn't, s- Boothby. I was just touching them.
"Touching them? What for?"
She shrugged. "I like the way the petals feel. I wasn't aware they belonged to anyone. If I had been, I would have asked first."
He got a slightly puzzled look on his face. "What in blazes do you mean, you like the way they feel?"
"They feel the way they look. Smooth, soft, and beautiful. I spent most of my life around ugliness. Beauty is something I've never taken for granted."
There was no anger in his eyes now. "I never thought of it quite like that. You have a name, I presume?"
"Cadet Natasha Yar. But most people just call me Tasha."
"Tasha it is, then. Now if you're really interested in flowers, there's a lot more I could show you."
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"I don't expect we'll have many classes together," Deanna remarked.
"We might have a few this year," Tasha pointed out. "We'll both be in basics at first."
The two of them got into their room and simultaneously grabbed their PADDs, scrolling down them. "Astrotheory 101, Earth History, Beginning Psychology, and Survival Strategies," Deanna reported. "You?"
"Three out of four," Tasha replied. "I have Beginning Tactical Analysis instead of psychology."
"The real question: do we have them at the same time?" Deanna held out her PADD, and Tasha held hers out for comparison. "We have Survival Strategies at the same time. Maybe we can keep each other from going crazy."
"Going crazy?"
"It's hardly an easy class. And we've drawn Admiral Paris. I've heard horror stories about him."
Tasha almost laughed. "Don't worry, Deanna. There's nothing Admiral Paris, or any Survival Strategies course, can throw at me that I can't take."
"You're awfully confident."
"I have reason to be."
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"The time is 0900 hours."
Deanna rolled over sleepily. "Tasha, can you shut that thing off?"
"The time is 0901."
"Not until you get up! We start classes today, remember?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah." She sat up.
"The time is 0902."
"I'm up! Now can you shut that thing off?"
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"Well?"
"Well what?"
Deanna sighed. "How was your first week?"
"Hard," she admitted. "For me anyway."
"Oh?" Deanna had the kind of personality that could make a person open up to her with one word, and she knew it. In fact, she was counting on it.
"Deanna, everything I know about any of these subjects, with the exception of Paris' class, I learned in the past three years. I could barely even read until three years ago. These classes are geared towards people who've studied the material their whole lives."
"I'm sure you can handle it."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Tasha, you wouldn't have gotten in if you couldn't handle it."
"That's what I thought at first."
"I do think Earth History is geared too much towards an audience that already knows Earth."
"You don't?"
"I was raised on Betazed. I've hardly ever been to Earth, and never since my father died."
"Yeah well, I'll help you in Survival Skills, you can help me in Astrotheory, and - we'll just have to find someone else to help us in history. Can you believe we have to take five history classes?"
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"You wanted to see me, Admiral?"
It was two months into the semester, and Tasha had been called to the office of Admiral Paris. From her first few classes, she'd gotten the idea that the man didn't really like her. His attitude now seemed to support that.
"Yes. Please, Cadet, take a seat."
She sat stiffly. "What is this about? Sir," she tacked on a moment later.
"I'll be blunt, Cadet. You're on the verge of failing this class."
"Excuse me, sir?"
He pulled out a PADD and showed it to her. Her latest assignment. "This isn't at all what I was looking for. This says to me that you're paying no attention to any of the materials."
Tasha searched her brain for the phrase Tuvok had taught her once he'd become aware of her opinionated nature. She came up with it quickly. "Admiral, permission to speak freely."
"I welcome it."
"Sir, what is the purpose of this class? Why are all cadets required to take it?"
The Admiral sighed, anticipating another cadet whine-fest about how unfair it was that they had to take a class unrelated to their area. "Anyone can plausibly be placed in a situation where he or she is alone and cut off from aid. It is imperative that they be able to survive until help arrives."
"Then the purpose of the class is to learn to survive?"
"That is correct, Cadet."
"Then, with all due respect, that's what you should be grading on. Not whether I'm perfectly in tune with the materials and standard procedures," she all but spat the last two words, "but with whether or not I would survive doing what I put in these assignments."
He paused for a second, getting a slow smile on his face. "All right, then. Let's see it." He took the PADD and linked it into the computer. "Computer, analyze input data and predict likelihood of survival as compared to standard responses."
"Working. Calculations complete. Likelihood of survival five point three seven percent greater than standard practices."
The Admiral's eyebrows raised. "I'm impressed, Cadet. If you don't mind my asking, where did you learn your - alternative methods?"
"Permission to sp-"
"Please do."
"Starfleet Command made up these rules from a desk, based on simulations and controlled situations. I grew up fighting for my life, and I can tell you that no holodeck can prepare you for the real thing. When you're out there on your own, there are variables that a computer can't account for."
The Admiral stared at her for a long moment without speaking. "If that's so, I might have to revise my curriculum a bit. Cadet Yar?"
She didn't fail to notice that he'd called her by her name. "Sir?"
"When that time comes, I may need a more experienced eye to look over my modifications. Do you know anyone who might be qualified?" He smiled, and Tasha no longer felt any animosity from him.
"I might know someone, sir." She grinned back.
FYI: I'll be sort of skimming over Tasha's academy years, delving into what's important but not covering the whole four years in detail.
I'm really sorry about how long this took. Finals took over my life and left me with a bad case of writer's block. A plot bunny for a RENT fanfic cured that, but then I had to write the RENT story before I could focus on this one or Big Doors. Apologies to anyone on my author alert list who got an alert for that story and isn't into that fandom.
I recently began thinking that I'll continue this story and Big Doors until the end of All Good Things, at which point I would end both stories and merge the timelines, beginning a third story as a sequel to these two. Anyone passionately for or against this? Let me know.
Please Review.