Chapter Two: Recommendation
Disclaimer: No money made. Lots of love, though.
Spock pauses inside the double doors of the main student cafeteria of Starfleet Academy. By human reckoning the hour is early—0715—but already both breakfast lines are full and over a hundred students are seated at the long tables. Scanning the room, Spock revises his estimation. 117 students are seated, some hunched over bowls of hot grain cereal and fruit or nursing a cup of coffee silently, but even more of them interrupting their food intake to converse with each other.
The noise level is jarring, or would be if Spock allowed it. He won't be here more than a minute or two—just long enough to find Cadet Uhura and give her the recommendation she requested for her summer internship with Professor Ellison on the lunar relay station.
He could have sent the recommendation electronically, of course. However, his last experience with sending an email to Cadet Uhura had been less than satisfactory. The resulting misunderstanding over her paper on Tartainian fricatives caught him completely off-guard, as did her palpable anger at the next class meeting. Only now—at the end of the semester—does she seem comfortable again in his presence. Indeed, on the last day of class, she had lingered behind after the other students departed and told him of her plans to apply for Professor Ellison's summer internship. Would he, she wondered, be willing to write her a recommendation?
"I assumed you would find a summer position here in San Francisco," he said, trying to hide his surprise—and his dismay. "There are many suitable internships available for a student of your caliber."
She had smiled then, not the kind of sly or timid smile he sometimes saw when students were given praise, but a large grin that didn't try to hide her pleasure in his assessment of her abilities.
"I appreciate that, but I think I need a break," she said, "and I've always wanted to visit the moon."
They walked out of the empty classroom together, parting at the top of the stairs. He should have written the recommendation right then and sent it directly to Professor Ellison, but Spock was understandably skittish about writing something that Cadet Uhura might misconstrue. The logical plan—and the safest one—was to let her read it first before he submitted it. In fact, he could encode a signature chip in a flimplast and she could turn it in to Professor Ellison herself.
Yet when he sat down to compose the recommendation he faltered, struggling to find a balance between being scrupulously honest and overly enthusiastic. In every way she was the perfect candidate for the internship—hard-working, dedicated, talented. If he'd thought ahead, he could have offered her a summer internship helping him with the annual revision of the Kobayashi Maru test, something that might have appealed to her.
He rested his wrists on the edge of his desk and curled his fingers above the keyboard of his computer.
"Cadet Uhura is both intelligent and beautiful."
With a start, he glanced down at his computer screen. He would never write such words—a human judgment, the kind of thing his mother might say. He stared at the blinking cursor waiting for…something. After another fruitless minute, he stopped trying and spent the rest of the evening meditating cross-legged in front of his asenoi.
He'd tried several more times since then to write the recommendation, each version less satisfactory than the one before it. A conundrum—and a refutation of the Earth saying that practice makes perfect.
Then last night Cadet Uhura sent him a note—a terse email that both shamed him and spurred him to finish her request.
Commander Spock, Three days ago you agreed to write a recommendation for my summer internship application. If you are either unwilling or unable to do so, please let me know and I will ask someone else. The deadline is fast approaching. Cadet N. Uhura, Class of 2254 (est.)
Unwilling or unable. He was neither, he thought quickly, and then, just as quickly, he realized that he was both—and why. How astonishing—the unlooked for discovery that the idea of her absence during the summer was so disagreeable.
In a flurry of activity he had put words together and resolved to seek her out the next morning.
Except that now she doesn't seem to be in the cafeteria. Looking around once more, Spock is certain she is not here, though he spots her roommate, Cadet Farlijah-Endef, one of only a handful of Orions at Starfleet, a reason Spock has been a vocal advocate for a more robust recruitment program to non-Terrans.
Hesitating a fraction of a second, he makes his way across the cafeteria towards her table.
"Commander!" she says, clearly startled when he stops in front of her. "Can I help you?"
"I was looking for Cadet Uhura," he says, placing the flimplast on the table. "This contains the recommendation she asked me to write. I believe she needs it as soon as possible, and since she is not here at the moment—"
"You want me to give it to her?"
"If it does not inconvenience you."
Cadet Farlijah-Endef shakes her head, her red curls bouncing. "Of course not! I'm heading back to the room in a few minutes. She's probably still there."
He's about to respond when over the cadet's shoulder he sees Cadet Uhura herself walking in the door at the far end of the cafeteria. Opening his mouth to tell Cadet Farlijah-Endef that he won't need her as his messenger after all, Spock sees a male cadet walking beside her, gesticulating wildly with upraised hands. Although they are too far away to hear what they are saying, Spock can see that the male is talking, a smile on his face. Cadet Uhura's expression is harder to read, her head bent low, her gaze on the floor ahead of her.
Suddenly Spock is aware that Cadet Farlijah-Endef is looking at him curiously and he turns his attention back to her.
"Thank you," he says, and then he adds, "Professor Ott has mentioned your work in the simulation programming lab. It has been exemplary."
The cadet flushes a darker green at the compliment and Spock says, "If you are interested in a summer programming internship, I have a position available. The details will be posted on the campus newsfeed later today. See me if you wish to apply."
As he walks away he sees her bob her head, her teeth flashing in a wide grin, her torso twisting in what he assumes is an Orion show of approval.
Already Spock has an unsettling sensation of weariness and unease. Offering the position to Cadet Farlijah-Endef may have been a mistake. Hurrying out into the early morning sunlight, he decides it is too late to change anything now.
X X
"This is for you," Gaila says as Nyota sets a tray on the table and slides into a chair next to her at breakfast. "Hand delivered by your favorite professor."
"You have a favorite professor?" Jim Kirk quips as he slides into a chair on the other side of Gaila. Nyota narrows her eyes at him and then pointedly looks away, taking the flimplast from Gaila. Not that she dislikes Kirk—he can be funny and charming and underneath his puppy dog energy he sometimes slips up and shows a glimmer of real intelligence—but she does distrust him. He is overconfident to a fault, and an inveterate flirt, and if Gaila weren't a bigger one, Nyota would worry that her roommate is heading for a broken heart—or whatever is the equivalent metaphor for Orion love affairs gone sour.
Taking a sip of her coffee, Nyota angles the flimplast and begins to read.
"Cadet Uhura was a member of my spring semester biolinguistics seminar. She successfully completed the course work and can, if she chooses, register for the advanced section in the fall. Her research project was adequate and has been accepted for publication in the Journal of Xenolinguistics. Her ability to distinguish phonemic subtleties is not hampered noticeably by the limits of human auditory perception. Her contributions to the class were many."
That's it? Five sentences? Five sentences that say almost nothing—or rather, seem to symbolize, with their own boring mediocrity, something about her character. She sets her cup down so hard that coffee sloshes over the rim. Both Gaila and Kirk turn to look at her.
"What is it? You look upset," Gaila says.
Pushing back her chair, Nyota stands up abruptly and says, "I have to go." Without looking back she starts through the crowded cafeteria, Jim Kirk calling behind her, "Hey! Don't you want your breakfast?"
As she storms across the commons to the astrophysics building where Professor Ellison has an office, she rehearses what she'll say—that she knows it is unusual to ask, but can he see his way clear to grant her an extension on her application deadline? The hold up is the recommendation—yes, she's gotten one, but she'd obviously failed to explain to Commander Spock what such a request entailed—because what he returned to her was unsuitable. Useless, really. An extension would give her time to ask someone else.
When she's shown into the office, she says none of this, however, deciding that it would sound like an excuse rather than a corrective to Commander Spock's anemic assessment of her. Sitting primly in the chair opposite Professor Ellison's desk, her hands folded on her lap, one knee crossed over the other, she controls her breathing with effort, trying not to let her anger show.
If only Commander Spock had written his recommendation earlier, she could have done an end-run around him with time to spare. The thought makes her face hot with anger—and if she is honest, with shame. All this time she thought he saw her work as exemplary, saw her as an excellent student, certainly more than merely adequate. She feels damned with praise of the faintest kind.
Too late to change anything now.
She watches as Professor Ellison reads over her application—and the flimplast with Commander Spock's recommendation.
For a few minutes the only sound in the small office is the steady thrum of the air exchanger overhead. Then Professor Ellison clears his throat and sets most of the application papers on his desk, keeping the flimplast in his hand. Nyota shifts uneasily in her chair.
Looking up, Professor Ellison says, "Let's talk about this."
Here it comes, she thinks. Here's where I don't get the internship.
"This is really…something," he says, and she blinks and nods and says, "Yes, I know."
Professor Ellison leans back in his chair. "I don't think I've ever seen a recommendation quite like this. Is this the first time you've taken a course with Commander Spock?"
"Yes," Nyota says, biting her bottom lip. "And I guess it will be my last."
Professor Ellison gives her an odd look and says, "It needn't be. He's approved you for the advanced seminar."
At that Nyota gives a little huff of air. "Approved isn't exactly the word. He said I could take it if I wanted to. I suppose that's something."
Again Professor Ellison looks at her oddly. "Well, yes. Yes, it is. When I checked the posted course results, you were the only one he did approve for the advanced seminar."
Nyota's lips are already parted to say something, anything, to try to rescue her chances for the internship when the meaning of Professor Ellison's words come through. She blinks in surprise and closes her mouth like a goldfish. "I'm sorry, did you say I was the only one he approved?"
Tapping the flimplast with his finger, Professor Ellison says, "I can't remember the last time Commander Spock gave such high praise. And you're lucky he sponsored your project for publication. Coming from him, that means a great deal. He doesn't sponsor student work very often."
"He said it was adequate!" Nyota blurts out. A hint of amusement ripples across Professor Ellison's expression.
"Well, it was, wasn't it? I mean, what does adequate mean? Fulfilling its function, right? Any less and it would have been inadequate. Any more would have been superfluous."
He laughs then, and Nyota feels her shoulders loosen, as if she's just run a long distance.
"Then—then, this is okay?" she asks, and Professor Ellison laughs again.
"Better than okay," he says. "You did a good job in his class and he wants you to sign up for the advanced section. You published your research. Your hearing and analytical skills are as good as any human's can be. Like I said, high praise coming from Commander Spock. The only thing I don't quite understand is this last sentence."
He holds up the flimplast and reads, "Her contributions to the class were many. That's unusually vague for a Vulcan. Any idea what he might have meant by that?"
Although she is sitting motionless on the chair, both of her feet firmly on the ground, Nyota has a moment of such intense dizziness that for a moment she feels her world shift. A wave of understanding crashes over her—and with it, she imagines herself through the Commander's eyes—how she is almost always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave class; how her words tumble over each other when she gets caught up in a discussion; how she gives each assignment her full focus; how she is proud and stubborn and competitive, but also loyal to her classmates and willing to learn from criticism.
Her contributions to the class were many.
She remembers the intense interest he took in whatever she said during class, the way he would cant his head slightly to the side and listen as if she were the only person in the room. The many times he followed her to the door of the emptying classroom as she hurried to finish one more comment, his hands tucked neatly behind his back, his eyes reflecting patience—even bemusement. Her conviction that despite what she knows about Vulcans, she has sensed undercurrents of emotion when he looks at her, when he speaks to her—distress and relief and something else, too, which she can't quite believe or name.
She looks up and sees Professor Ellison waiting.
"I'm—I'm sorry," she stutters. "I really don't know what he meant at all."
Professor Ellison straightens in his chair. "It doesn't matter," he says. "The rest of the recommendation is plenty. Congratulations. You're headed to the moon."
A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who sent well wishes and encouragement for chapter one!
Historically, the second chapter of ANY story is the least reviewed…probably the "been there done that" feeling for readers, so thanks for taking the time and effort to let me know your thoughts about this one. Your words are my best reward!