A/N: One day late because insomnia is the worst and I'm helping my brother build his senior project.

Elle put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh. "Wait, wait, the Iotians? This is a real thing?"

"Violation of the Prime Directive and contamination of a pre-warp society is a serious matter," Spock said, his tone reproving.

"I know, Commander," Elle said, sobering. "It's just, you know, Chicago mobs in space is a little hard to take with a serious face."

"I take it you've seen this episode, then?" Kirk asked, quirking a smile.

"Uh-huh."

"So what are we looking at?" he asked.

Elle grinned. "Like I said. Chicago mobs. In space. Well, the planet. But somebody from the Horizon left them a book in the 1920's and they based their whole culture on it."

"Not unexpected," Spock said. "The Iotians are recorded to be highly imitative."

"Yup. And if you go down there, they're gonna try and hold you ransom for heaters."

"Heaters?"

"Guns."

"Ah."

Elle giggled as she recalled a scene from the episode. "Oh man, I've seen this episode so many times, it's one of my favorites. Spock, don't let him drive."

They all just raised their eyebrows at her.

"So how do we reason with them?" Kirk asked.

"Out-gangster the gangster," Elle said simply.

"You've got to be kidding."

"Nope. Spock looks incredible in a fedora, by the way. Blue pinstripe."

McCoy snorted so hard he started coughing.

Kirk pressed his lips together, trying not to laugh. "We'll take that under advisement," he said, clearing his throat. "Thank you, Elle."

"Yup. Doctor McCoy, if you go down there, don't leave your communicator behind."

"...okay?"

"Cool."

They beamed back up about six hours later. "Man, you guys do look good in suits," Elle said, leaning on the transporter console. "Dang, we should have a Friday Costume Day. My kindergarten used to do that."

"Let me guess, you used to go as Spock," McCoy drawled.

Elle blushed. "No! Not all the time..."

Kirk laughed and plopped his fedora on her head. "Have a souvenir."

"Awesome."

-/\-

"I honestly cannot right now."

"Cannot what?" Chekov asked.

Elle faceplanted into her workdesk. "Everything," she groaned. "I can't do math with alphabet soup."

Chekov chuckled. "It's not that bad," he coaxed. "Let's try it again."

Elle groaned. "Pavel, I can't. My brain is mush. What'm'I gonna use this for anyway?"

"Maybe you will become a programmer," Chekov said. "You like engineering, yes?"

"Yes, but, ugh. I'm pretty sure I'm too dumb to join Star Fleet," she grumbled into her arms. "I'm never gonna catch up."

"You are plenty smart," he said. He patted her hair. "Sometimes the brain just has off-days." He reached over and turned off the computer. "Come on. We'll do something fun for a while, let the knowledge simmer back there."

Elle followed him to the Rec Deck. "Mario Kart?" she asked, watching him pull up a game.

"Racing: Central City Candy Edition," Chekov said. "I grew up with this game."

"Cool." It was basically Mario Kart meets Candy Crush but with no ads and not as garish as you'd think.

They played for about an hour and then Chekov paused the game. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," Elle said, surprised to find it was true. "Thank you."

He smiled. "Tomorrow the math will make sense, I promise."

And he was right. The next day, Elle turned on the computer and started solving the problems like she actually knew what she was doing. "It's magic," she said, awed.

Chekov laughed. "Sometimes you need to step away from a problem to let your brain process it."

"My dad does that," Elle said, smiling wistfully. "When he's like stuck on a project or his client is being dumb, he'll drop everything and go watch TV, or he would take me to the park and we'd play basketball."

He nodded. "It works for all aspects of life. Except when you're hungry. That just makes it worse."

She laughed. "Nice."