Day 7 (Saturday)
They followed Schmidt around the thick forest for several hours. The night was dark, damp, cold, and teeming with tension. Schmidt had explained that their mission was to locate ten points using the tricorder to navigate. They were in competition with the other team to locate all of their markers first and had to return to the rally point by 1700 hours the following day.
Spock had mapped the points and plotted a course, and if they could follow the map in a straight-line fashion, they would cover exactly twenty-five kilometers. The rough terrain would make that impossible, however, and Spock calculated that navigating around a large river and two steep rock faces would add another nine kilometers to their journey. And that didn't account for smaller obstacles that weren't included on the map.
They would be required to establish a camp and rest for a minimum of four hours, maintain a log, and communicate with their cadre via communicators every two hours. They were also to avoid interaction with the other team, and anyone else in the training area at all costs.
According to their team leader, there would be several Academy personnel moving throughout the course who intended to stun trainees they caught sleeping, talking too loudly, not maintaining situational awareness, or not following the course instructions. Schmidt had told them in no uncertain terms that he would get punished severely if he lost anyone to the cadre due to carelessness, and anyone who was stunned and transported back to the Academy training campus would have to repeat this mission before graduating.
It was 0300 hours and they had already located two points and were in close proximity to the third. Schassler had climbed several meters up a large tree to try and find it, and Saxena was digging around the base of the same tree with her hands. She had taken great care to avoid him since their departure, and he did not wish to agitate her.
"Got it," Schassler said, raising his voice to just above a whisper.
He read the marker's identifier to Rylax, who entered it into the PADD for their log. It started to drizzle slightly and the team's mood sunk with the weight of the precipitation.
"We should set up our camp up ahead," Schmidt announced.
Schmidt's performance as team leader had been adequate thus far. Spock had been unsure of how he would perform and behave without the ever-present threat of the instructors nearby, but Schmidt had participated eagerly, had accepted the opinions of others, and had made reasonable decisions.
They moved a hundred meters to the crest of a gentle hill. The towering trees provided some cover from the rain, but the ground was already wet.
"This is going to be one hell of a miserable night," Schassler mumbled, pulling a sleeping bag and poncho from his rucksack.
"I need someone to keep watch," Schmidt said. "I want shifts that are an hour long."
"Trainee Schmidt, I am willing to keep watch through the duration of our rest period," Spock said.
He wasn't seeking to gain Schmidt's favor, necessarily, but he knew he would not rest well in such cold and damp conditions. Remaining active and on his feet would enable him to maintain a higher body temperature.
"Everyone has to get a couple hours of sleep," Schmidt insisted. "Including you. You can have the first shift. Wake me up in an hour."
Spock acknowledged Schmidt's order and set to work stringing his poncho between two trees to shelter himself from the rain. He sat on the waterproof cover to his sleeping bag and periodically patrolled the perimeter of the camp, scanning the thick foliage for signs of the cadre or wildlife with his small infrared light.
His Vulcan physiology gave him the ability to see slightly longer wavelengths than his human counterparts, and thus this infrared flashlight wouldn't be visible to any of the instructors moving through the tree line. Humans had the advantage with the shorter wavelengths and could more easily perceive shades of purple and blue than Vulcans. His color vision was superior to either species, thanks to his mixed biology.
This place was alien to him and he found himself thinking of Vulcan, with its warm colors and arid climate. He could hear the movements of each of his teammates as they rustled in their sleeping bags and shivered against the damp. It was taking considerable effort to avoid shivering as well.
"Spock?" a female voice whispered through the darkness.
He twisted around and saw Spooner a meter and a half behind him. Her dark skin blended her slightly into the dark night, but his eyes focused and he could see her hunched over and holding her poncho tightly around her body.
"I can't sleep," she said sheepishly. "I'm cold. And this place gives me the creeps."
"An odd expression," he mused.
"Can I talk to you?"
"We are already speaking," he replied. "Your species has a curious tendency to request permission for a thing after it is already done."
She plopped down next to him unceremoniously and scowled. "Saxena told me what happened between you two. I just want to say again that it was really none of my business to tell you anything. I apologized to her, but I feel like I should apologize to you too."
"I do not believe an apology is in order. It seems likely she would have informed me of her feelings even without you acting as a catalyst," he responded.
"I don't know," Spooner said thoughtfully. "Everyone gets harmless little crushes from time to time. Maybe she would have gotten over it. Either way, she definitely doesn't want anything to do with you right now."
"Perhaps you could enlighten me on the ability of human females to one moment express affection toward an individual, and the next moment, alienate that individual entirely."
"I can explain it in one word," she smirked. "Embarrassment."
"Embarrassment is illogical," he responded.
"No, it isn't," she argued. "Embarrassment is a valuable tool that prevents people from committing or repeating any number of social disasters."
"An interesting analysis," he mused. "Though I disagree with your assessment on the value of humiliation."
"Well, anyway, I'm sorry I was a blabbermouth. I didn't even think about how awkward that would be for you. Though of course, 'awkward' is just another way of saying embarrassed, and if you say that's illogical, well, I guess there's no point in being sorry for that either. Because, you know, you weren't embarrassed."
"Are you utilizing sarcasm?" he asked, finding a notable parallel in Spooner's tone with Morrison's usual pattern of speech.
She stifled a laugh. "I guess I just thought you probably don't get a lot of human girls coming on to you, and it might have been a little confusing."
"You imply that I should have handled the situation differently."
"Well, no. If someone tells you they like you but you don't like them back, you should tell them. Obviously some ways of letting them know are better than others, but-"
"It is not that I do not like her, to use your imprecise term. She is a person worthy of respect. It is merely that I have no romantic attraction for her."
"Yeah, I get that," Spooner replied.
"I do not know how to repair my acquaintanceship with Trainee Saxena," he admitted. "She wishes to avoid me, yet our present circumstances make that impossible and will only make this mission and this course more difficult."
"That's where I really don't know how to help you," she said. "She'll probably get over it eventually, but just give her some space."
Spock nodded.
"I know that's pretty terrible advice, you know, do nothing and wait it out, but it's all I have," Spooner whispered.
He checked the time on the PADD, realizing he would need to wake Schmidt in seven minutes. She seemed to intuitively know what he was thinking, because she said, "He's not turning out to be as bad at being team leader as I would have thought."
"I agree."
"Maybe Spencer was right. Maybe he just got off on the wrong foot. Eh, time will tell," she said, standing to return to her sleeping bag.
Spock was uncertain. When Spock woke Schmidt for his shift, Schmidt growled and uttered a characteristic string of profanity. He did rise to perform the task, however, and Spock settled into his sleeping bag and fell into a deeply meditative state despite the cold and wet.
They set off again at 0715 hours. Schmidt had been unwilling to wait for them to eat breakfast so they ate ration tubes as they walked, though Spock noted quiet grumbling among several of his teammates over the perceived injustice of being denied a proper meal. They easily collected their fourth and fifth points and proceeded to their sixth.
It would be their most treacherous point to get, as it was located midway along the ridge of a steep rock face that overlooked a lake. There were two obvious methods of approach: a longer one that took them up and around, and a shorter one that would require them to walk a narrow path cut into the rock.
"It's definitely doable," Spooner argued. "Worst case: you fall, you go for a swim. I say let's just go big or go home."
"The map indicates there are boulders underneath that lake which might cause injury should someone fall on them," Rylax argued.
"There's no such thing as a hundred percent safe," Schassler countered. "I'm with Spooner. Let's just go the fast way."
"This is a training mission. There is no logical reason to undertake unnecessary risk in this situation, since there is nothing to be gained," Spock said, siding with Rylax.
"We still have to be back by 1700," Saxena added, deliberately avoiding looking in Spock's direction.
"A deadline we shall easily meet, even if we take the more conservative option," Spock replied.
"Well, then you both can stay here and we'll get it done faster," Spooner said, looking at Spock and Rylax in exasperation.
"I'm in charge of this mission," Schmidt said with a measure of authority. "We can't split up: we have to stay together. That was part of the mission briefing, if you remember."
"Well, fearless leader, what's your decision?" Spooner said with a biting tone.
"Going the faster route doesn't mean we have to be unsafe," he said, gritting his teeth. "We'll just move carefully, single file, no sweat."
Spock thought Schmidt's choice was reckless, but not so much so that it posed a probable and immediate threat of permanent injury or death. When they reached the rock face, they formed a line and cautiously proceeded with Schmidt in the lead.
The path gently sloped upward and began to narrow. After about a hundred meters, they were nearly ten meters above the lake. The stone was still slick in some places from the rain several hours earlier and the path cut into the side was worn and broken away in some areas. Schmidt stopped the team twice to test his weight on several loose rocks.
"The marker should be another fifteen meters ahead," Rylax called.
Spock scanned for the blue marker along the rock face but couldn't see it. He had considered the possibility that the marker would be in the lake, as their coordinates did not indicate an altitude. He was about to mention this to Schmidt when his thoughts were pierced by a bloodcurdling scream and the sound of falling rock.
"Oh my God," Spooner yelped.
He heard the chaotic sounds of his teammates yelling and scrambling, and Spock turned smoothly and deliberately to see Saxena struggling in vain to hold onto the side of the sheer rock face. He immediately looked down and saw a large boulder nearly ten meters below her. If she fell, it would not be into the safety of the water, but onto the smooth gray rock below.
"Hold still," Schmidt called to her.
Saxena began screaming as her grip was giving way, and Spock looked down and saw a smaller cut in the rock below him. Without stopping to explain, he shrugged off his rucksack, sat down, and carefully slid over the edge of the path to land on the cut four meters below. He sidestepped carefully to Saxena's position until he could move no further.
He could reach out his hand and touch her back, but lacked the leverage to pull her to safety without falling himself. Schassler was leaning over the edge of the path trying to reach her while the others dug through their bags to make a makeshift rope out of sleeping bags.
"You must jump to your left," Spock directed her.
"No," she screamed, eyeing the distance between them.
It was precarious, but he noticed her arms were shaking and badly scraped. He was not certain she would be able to hold on for much longer. He extended his right arm.
"No, please," she begged, slipping further.
"You will soon fall if you do not comply. It is not a fall I believe you will survive," he explained.
She screamed again. He could hear Schmidt on the communicator asking for assistance and Spock believed there was a chance she might be beamed to safety before she fell. That proved incorrect, because a moment later, she completely lost her grip and began to violently flail.
Spock anchored the fingers of his left hand as best as he could into the rock face behind him and grabbed her sleeve. She jumped at the last minute, and precariously landed on the small cut next to him. For a few tenuous seconds, they struggled to maintain their balance, until he fell back against the rock and held her tightly. She was panting and crying, and muttering words of thanks and disbelief.
"If you guys can step to the left, we can pull you up," Schassler shouted.
Saxena was still shaking so he kept his hand on her back to steady her while they sidestepped back along the cut to a more favorable location to climb back up onto the main path. When they were no longer over the rocky outcropping, Spock pondered the extent of the injuries that would be likely as a result of falling from ten meters into water, taking into account water's surface tension, the likely angle of entry, and Earth's gravity.
"Can you hoist Saxena up first?" Schassler called.
He and Rylax were leaning over the edge with their arms outstretched. Schassler and Rylax grabbed her hands and pulled, but they had poor balance, and Saxena began to struggle.
He looked at Schmidt and saw his face was pale and his jaw was set. If Spock had been paying closer attention, it might not have happened at all. He didn't even see the large rock that Saxena's foot had dislodged until it had already met the side of his temple. Then reality faded to black.
He was unsure if the hospital room was dimly lit or if he was having problems with his vision. His head hurt, and his memory of how he'd come to be there was nonexistent.
"You're awake," a female voice declared.
The lights in the room were illuminated more fully and Spock's head began to pound as he squinted against the light.
"Commander Pike will be relieved. Awful lot of paperwork when trainees die."
Spock rolled his head on the pillow to see the same nurse who'd given him the thirty-two vaccinations on his first day of inprocessing. His neck was sore, and he became aware that his face was also. He gently palpated the left side of his forehead and winced, and traced his fingers along his eye socket and the side of his head.
"What happened?" he asked his voice sore and hoarse.
"You got smacked in the head with a rock and almost drowned. You fractured your skull but you're lucky they pulled you out just in time. Vulcan lungs are delicate things, you know. It's not easy pumping water out of them."
He searched his mind for some memory of being hit with a rock and found none. "When did this occur?"
"About five hours ago," she said, scanning through her PADD.
There was a knock at the door and the doctor who had examined him on his first day entered and began a thorough exam.
"Thanks goodness for thicker Vulcan bone density, huh?" the doctor mused as he checked Spock's pupils.
"Are you referring to the fracture I sustained to my skull?"
"Yeah, but also your neck," the doctor said. "The way your friends describe what happened, if it had been them, would have snapped their necks and completely crushed their little noggins."
His exam continued for another hour, and despite being unable to recall the incident that had landed him in the hospital, the doctor pronounced him in good health.
"Your cadre really wants you out of here tonight," the doctor frowned, signing off on his chart. "I like having my beds open, but I prefer to be careful with head injuries. I'm going to keep you for another two hours just in case and run another scan, but you'll be out of here by 1900 hours if you don't have any problems. I'm putting you on light duty for the next three days and I want to see you back here in the morning. If you have any vomiting, vision loss, dizziness, loss of balance, confusion, or severe headaches, you come back right away. Understand?"
Spock acknowledged the doctor's orders, and as he left to update the chart, Commander Pike caught the door and entered. "Trainee Spock, can I have a minute?"
"As you are my superior officer, it would seem inadvisable to refuse a conference with you," he said. "I am also unable to leave the confines of this bed, so I have more than just one minute to speak with you, if that is what you wish."
Pike gave him a sharp look, shook his head in disbelief, and chuckled lightly. He pulled a visitor's chair from the wall closer to Spock's bed and took a seat. His hands were clasped together and Spock wondered at the informality he was exhibiting.
"I'm glad you're ok," Pike began. "Besides, you know, we've been trying to recruit more Vulcans into Starfleet, and that might be difficult to do if we killed off the first one to join in ten years in less than a week."
"Thank you for your concern, Commander."
"Your team told me what happened," he added, sitting back in his chair to face Spock. "It's going to be a hell of a lot of paperwork. I'd like to get your version of it, but the doc tells me you don't remember much."
"That is correct."
"What's the last thing you do remember?" Pike asked.
"We were traversing a rock face," Spock responded, thinking hard to himself. "That is all I am able to recall."
"Ok," Pike nodded. "Well, Trainee Saxena slipped and you caught her. When the others pulled her up, she accidentally kicked a rock into your face and you fell into the lake."
Spock greatly disliked being unable to account for a portion of his life.
"You know, it was Trainee Schmidt who jumped in after you," Pike added. "The others said he didn't hesitate. Nearly drowned himself trying to keep your head above water. He got released from medical a few hours ag and he's been asking about you."
"So we did not finish the mission," Spock replied. "Will we be required to repeat the training?"
"That's the first thing you think to ask?" Pike asked incredulously.
"Is it not relevant?"
"Uh, well, your cadre have recommended you continue your training," Pike said, smirking to himself. "I agree with their assessment. I think Schmidt made a rash decision in choosing the route he did."
"Commander, what will happen to Trainee Schmidt?"
"What about him?" Pike replied, a quizzical expression spreading over his face.
"Will he continue his training as well?"
"I won't discuss that with you," Pike said. "That's between me, Schmidt, and your cadre."
"If I may say, sir, I believe Schmidt performed well as the team's leader."
"Really?" Pike asked, raising his eyebrows.
"His decision to take the shorter route wasn't hastily made. I do not believe he intended to be careless or needlessly endanger anyone."
"Hmmm," Pike mused. "Noted. One thing I can say; that marker was placed where it was for a reason."
"You suggest it was placed in a dangerous location to assess a leader's tendency to make reckless decisions," Spock commented, thinking over the logic.
"And maybe also to see if someone leads well enough to convince others to follow," Pike said, rising to his feet. "Anyway, I'm overdue for a staff meeting. I hear they're letting you out tonight, which is good. Wouldn't want you to miss the fun."
"Fun, sir?" Spock queried.
"Let's try not to cross paths again for the rest of your training here, shall we?" Pike said with a smile before leaving the room.
Just over two hours later, Spock was released from medical and told to return to the barracks. Other than a dull headache, he felt healthy. The building was unusually quiet for 1930, and when he arrived at his barracks, he found the room empty and his rucksack sitting on his bunk. He went back to the hallway and cautiously approached the cadre office. He could hear Morrison and Quinones talking behind the cracked door, and knocked gently.
"What?" Morrison barked.
"Sir, I have just been released and was sent back to the barracks," he said, standing at attention.
"Well, I can see that, Morrison growled. "What do you want?"
"Instructions, sir," Spock replied. "I am unable to locate the squad."
"Maybe you should look outside," Quinones shrugged.
Spock's eyes darted toward the window, where he saw several small fires in the tree line. He was uncertain what they were suggesting he should do, but the obvious inference was that the whole of the training campus was on some mission or assignment.
"It's good to see you're ok," Morrison said, with a measure of tenderness that seemed nearly genuine.
"Thank you, s-"
"Now get out of my office!" he roared.
"Aye, sir," said Spock, turning quickly on his heel.
"And don't you dare come back drunk," Morrison called after him. "Nothing makes me happier than curing a hangover at 0400 with my trumpet!"
Spock walked through the woods just outside of the training campus and quickly encountered people from Delta Squad, who pointed him in the direction of his own group. They were huddled around a small fire, the red glow illuminating their faces and exaggerating their features.
"Hey!" Scrivner yelled, holding up a plastic cup too quickly, causing him to spill some of the contents. "Spock's back!"
"Hey!" the others echoed in response, turning to greet him.
He noted two exceptions, Saxena and Schmidt, who both sat alone at the edge of the group.
"Didn't know you'd be back on your feet so soon," Schassler said. "Hit like that, I wasn't sure you'd ever be on your feet again."
"You look awful," Spooner laughed.
She pulled him into a tight hug, which mildly unnerved him. He extricated himself from her grip and asked what they were doing.
"It's tradition, after Hell Week is over," Scrivner explained. "The cadre looks the other way and we sneak into the woods, take in some refreshments, and let out some frustration."
"I fail to see how consuming alcohol near an open flame is conducive to that purpose," Spock argued.
"Well then, my boy, you've failed to understand the point of life," the older man laughed. "Someone get him a drink!"
"I do not wish to partake-"
"Oh come on!" Spencer said, pulling a plastic cup from a cellophane wrapper. "Just one. Yes, this is peer pressure. But if anyone deserves a drink, it's definitely you."
"There's not a whole lot of options, but what'll you have?" Rusza asked.
"Yeah, this is the last time Spencer is ever put in charge of alcohol," Schassler agreed. "She brought back cheap tequila, some light lager that tastes like feet, and chocolate liqueur."
"Yeah, because she thinks we're either bums or eighty-year old women," Rusza laughed.
"Shut up," Spencer sneered, raising the plastic cup to her mouth to hide her smile.
"After the week we've had, it tastes just fine," Spooner sighed before belching and laughing uncontrollably.
"The effects of alcohol on my physiology are quite different than on yours," Spock tried to explain.
"Vulcans can't get drunk?" Rutherford asked in disbelief. "Boo."
"If my medical training serves me correctly, I seem to remember chocolate can affect a Vulcan's mental state," Schassler said with a slight smile.
"Chocolate liqueur it is," Rusza said, pouring some into a cup. "Maybe you didn't screw up so bad after all, Spencer."
Spock sensed it would be rude to refuse their offer, but he had never been intoxicated before. It seemed unsafe to experience an altered state of consciousness near a fire in the dark with others who were also drunk. He took the cup hesitantly and surveyed his fellow squad members.
"To Spock, the asshole who made us run 'til we puked," Rusza said, raising his cup and drinking.
The others laughed and joined in the toast. "Why did you refer to me as an 'asshole?' Is this not an insult you have reserved for Instructor Morrison?"
"It's a drunken term of endearment; get over it," Rusza retorted. "You asshole."
Spock took a sip of the dark liquid in his cup and sputtered. It was both sweet and acrid and burned as it flowed down his throat. The others resumed talking amongst themselves and Spencer and Spooner made a space on the ground between them and motioned for him to join.
He looked to Saxena; she was sitting with her knees curled up to her chest about a meter behind them, and approached her instead.
"May I join you?" he asked.
Her eyes grew wide and she took a long gulp of the yellowish liquid in her cup and shrugged.
"I wish to-"
"I am so sorry for what happened," she interrupted. "For everything."
"It was unintentional, and we both survived."
She looked to the dark green bruises on the left side of his face, and he saw the first tears fall down her cheeks. "I didn't mean- I'm still so sorry," she mumbled, taking another drink.
"It is my hope that we can remain friends," he said, wishing to avoid acknowledging that which was already evident.
"You mean like a do-over?" she asked.
"Could you provide a definition of the term, 'do-over'?"
"We act like none of this ever happened and start off fresh," she explained.
"It would be illogical to refuse to recognize past events."
"I'm really sorry, Spock," she said.
"There is nothing for which to apologize. If you will excuse me, there is someone else I wish to speak with."
She nodded and as he left, Spencer and Spooner shuffled back to where Saxena was sitting. Schmidt was sitting with Schassler several meters away and the two were solemnly shaking hands.
"Spock," Schmidt said stiffly.
"I wish to thank you for saving my life," Spock said, believing a show of appreciation might mitigate Schmidt's usual irritation. "I also wish to apologize for breaking your arm."
Schmidt frowned and looked down at his knees. "Yeah, I guess giving you a black eye wasn't one of my prouder moments. I'm sorry."
"I accept your apology," Spock responded.
"Oh, will you just sit down," Schassler moaned. "You've both kissed and made up. Let's just start over."
Spock was uncertain if the alcohol was affecting Schassler's usually more reserved mood and wondered at his terminology of "kissing and making up," but he complied with the small man's request.
The three of them sat quietly for nearly ten minutes while Spock continued to sip on the beverage that Rusza had poured. His extremities felt warm and he found he felt content to sit and observe the fire.
"You know, you people really aren't so bad, and I'm sorry I've been such a dick," Schmidt said at long last.
"Hey, it's fine," Schassler said. "Past is the past, right?"
"You know, I've never really had a lot of friends," Schmidt confessed.
"That's easy to believe," Schassler grinned.
Schmidt rolled his eyes and scowled at Schassler, and they both began laughing. Spock couldn't understand the source of their mirth, but he understood Schmidt's sentiment about friends well enough.
"Nor have I," he admitted.
He was surprised by his own confession and he took another sip of the chocolate liqueur. Perhaps the drink was affecting it judgment more than he realized.
"That's easy to believe too," Schmidt agreed.
Spock felt a strange compulsion to laugh. He set his drink down on the ground by his feet, wishing to avoid a gross breech of etiquette by allowing himself to openly lose emotional control. Schmidt and Schassler chuckled between themselves and Spock tried to recenter his focus.
"You know, I joined Starfleet because I had nowhere else to go," Schmidt explained. "My dad finally had enough of me and I knew if I stayed in that town, I'd end up in prison. Maybe worse."
"That's rough," Schassler said.
"I'm not educated like you guys," he said, waving his hand between Schassler and Spock. "I'm good with my hands and I'm smart. Obviously smart enough to be accepted as a Starfleet officer. But you guys intimidate the hell out of me."
"Ugh, slow down on the booze before you start crying," Schassler teased. "Look, you're a giant. You intimidate the hell out of me too. Guys like you used to stuff me in lockers back in grade school."
"My own father and I share a less than optimal relationship," Spock said suddenly, ignoring their shift in conversation.
Schassler and Schmidt looked at him in surprise.
"Spock's talking about his personal life? Yeah, we gotta quit drinking before we all turn into blubbering babies," Schassler said, setting his cup down.
"You know they say blood is thicker than water," Schmidt said.
"Huh? Schassler murmured.
"We were talking about family, you dumbass," Schmidt explained. "Family is supposed to be the most important thing. So what happens when you don't have one that you like?"
"Interesting choice of quote, because you just gave the abridged version that completely inverts the meaning of the original," Schassler mused, finishing off the beer in his cup and pouring more.
"What are you talking about? What else could it mean?" Schmidt argued.
"The original phrase was 'the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.' It dates back to old style warfare and refers to the idea that the blood you shed in battle for your comrades matters more than your heritage. You can't choose your family, but you can choose your friends."
"I'll drink to that," Schmidt said after a brief pause.
He raised his cup, and Spock picked up his own drink, and he, Schassler, and Schmidt touched their cups together and finished the alcohol that remained in them.
They spent the next several hours talking, long after the fire had been extinguished and the others had returned to the barracks. He would later have difficulty recalling the subject of their conversation.
It was morning when someone started kicking the bottom of his boot. That indignity was soon followed by the scream of a loud brass instrument. His head was in agony, and he clutched his hands over his ears to stifle the sound.
"You are going to be on extra duty until you die," Morrison shouted.
Spock squinted his eyes open to see both Morrison and Quinones standing over him. He was lying on the ground and his clothes were soaked with dew.
"You're due at medical in thirty minutes for your check up," Quinones said with a wry smile.
Spock sat up and felt a surge of nausea. He noticed Schmidt was squatting and holding his head, and Schassler was still lying flat on his back, blinking up at the morning sun.
"Sir, we just lost track of time," Schmidt mumbled. "That's all."
"Nice try, trainee, but you have vomit on your shirt," Quinones laughed. "Let's go."
As they marched back to the barracks, Spock looked at both Schassler and Schmidt. They looked disheveled and terrible, but Schassler gave him a weak grin and a shrug. Up ahead, he saw several unfamiliar instructors rounding up other wayward students, and wondered how severe their punishment would be.
Commander Pike was strolling casually along the sidewalk in front of the barracks building, watching the procession of misery emerge from the trees. At the sight of Spock, Schmidt, and Schassler, he noticeably attempted to suppress a grin.
"Five more weeks to go," Schmidt grumbled.
"I have a feeling it might not be so bad," Schassler argued.
They entered the building and as the door slammed behind them, Spock heard an explosion of laughter erupt from Commander Pike outside.
Spock looked to Schmidt and Schassler.
"I would tend to agree," he said.
It might not be so bad after all.