Chapter 23 - Details

"For an uninhabited world there sure is a lot of crash debris." By product of being in a system adjacent to a war zone, Kirk thought.

He was on scanner. He should have given up the station already to someone else, but wanted to see with all the kinds of eyes the vessel possessed. He wanted to cycle at least three people through each position today. The pilots didn't need to practice piloting, but the medic and security did. Backups tended to only take over when their poor skills were the most dangerous.

The mood in the scuttle's cabin was equitable. Switching around stations at least kept people's minds well occupied. Five were idling aft right now, chatting, playing some kind of hand signal game.

"Land next to that debris field. Careful not to put us down on anything potentially harmful to the craft." Kirk stood up, came behind Ensign Heuyunt to help guide her in, watching for signs he was making her more nervous. Fortunately medics were accustomed to using their hands under stress. They set down hard and the engines went into idle immediately because they were set on automatic.

Heuyunt grunted unhappily. On the upper scanner display, the other scuttle settled behind them, facing outward.

"Not bad," Kirk said. "Name like Huey, though, you should be aces at this."

"Sir?"

"We going out, commander?" Someone in back asked.

"No. We'd need the breathers. Ranran, take the pilot seat. Huey, take the idlers through field trauma drills. Use our drunken dispensary buddy who couldn't make debriefing here as a dummy."

Someone snorted a laugh. Ensign Punter swiped at whoever it was. "We've not done these since refresher, sir. Easier to just beam injured out."

"You're assuming you always can. Seems like a fatal assumption. Huey, I realize he has seniority on you, but do whatever you like with him for the next two hours."

This made the idlers visibly gleeful. Kirk shook his head. But Punter and Jacobs had made their teams look bad by sneaking booze out of the civilian station around Anslad I and getting black-out drunk on it weeks later.

Kirk turned scanner over to yet another crewmember and watched the medical drill Huey arranged. She took out an already unsealed chest wound kit that someone had apparently played with sometime in the past. Kirk's arm muscles bristled. He needed to double check everything, but he needed to do so at a pace that wouldn't lose what felt like good humor he'd gained in the last two days.

"Next time, share the goodies," Huey said to the prone Punter lying on the deck, jacket open. "Keeps everyone else happy and you out of trouble. "Okay. Imagine a sucking chest wound, right side. Come on, it's Punter we've got here, it's easy to imagine."

Kirk stifled a yawn. It was almost his turn to bunk down for a whole six hours. They and their companion scuttle were running a full scan, which meant flying low to check blind spots, crevices in heavy rock or beneath large crash debris. In hostile territory this would be incredibly dangerous. Kirk worked with Pilot and Scanner on techniques for picking a path that gained them the best angles of attack to present heavy armor and keep close to immediate cover to the most likely hidden emplacements.

Pilot worked quietly, hands moving rapidly. He had everything off auto. It made Kirk nervous initially, the freewheeling, human-prone careening over the rugged gray landscape contrasting blindingly with the black of space beyond.

"This is what we have probes for," Scanner said after being slow in declaring a deep overhang all clear.

Kirk didn't bother to react to this or any other complaints. He waited until they finished the current string of passes to call for a return to patrol at four kilometers altitude. "Practice formations. Switch leads. I'm going to take a break."

"Yes, sir." The pilot's reply was easy going and it would help the others feel the same. Kirk avoided revealing how pleased he was by this. He was doing well, but he was tired, and if he didn't want to mess up and lose precious ground, he needed to rest.

The aft starboard corner of the scuttle held four bunks, although the bottom one just above the floor was rarely used due to being perpetually dusty. Two were empty. Kirk shucked his boots and jacket and rolled into the one at low seat height and pulled the soft wall along the track to seal himself in. The puffy material muted conversation nicely, but wouldn't cut out an alarm. He stripped off his shirt and hung it on a half-broken hook, took up his padd.

Spock's message was the top one.

"James. I expect you are settling into your new role and that you are no longer bored."

Kirk sighed and it sounded airy in his ears. He imagined he could feel Spock's weight on him, pressed close in the small space.

"I have been getting assistance from P'Losiwst in our Leadership course. I think this is also helpful to her, as she does not think through the logic of her, usually correct, answers. Explaining to me assists her with formalizing her understanding. My mid-term scores were better than expected, but I almost ran out of time. As to the other courses of difficulty, I have attended two sessions now with my Literature tutor. He has agreed to keep me on for a time, something I estimated of low likelihood given his credentials and high expectations. He has me reading Lolita this week."

Kirk pulled his hand out from behind his head and reread that line again.

"Shutan seems to believe there is some kind of parallel between that work and my relationship with you. He strongly implied that was why he assigned it. So far I believe it is the opposite. The primary character derives intense pleasure from a single kind of sexual encounter that he is barred from. You are the opposite. But I am unskilled at such analysis, hence the tutoring."

Kirk took a deep breath, shook his head and let it the breath out. He might have to sleep on his reply to Spock and compose it at the end of his break time.

"Shutan seems to believe that literature represents some truer version of existence, but I am starting to believe it blinds him to understanding or even recognizing actual examples of it."

"My Spock," Kirk whispered. "Don't give in."

Overlander's apartment worked on Spock's senses. The way the light continuously shifted at this height above the ground, the way the background scent had taken on a Vulcan homeyness. Spock stepped through a layering discipline to accompany meditation level two. A state, once practiced, one could quickly slip into if one needed to pull back from the intrusive telepathy of others. But he was not succeeding. Some step of the journey always slipped free, left him adrift and unable to reassemble the state of thought and needing to start at the beginning.

"You are distracted today," Zienn said.

"I beg forgiveness."

"It would be better practice for this technique, but only if you have already managed the desired mental stance at least once."

Zienn remained sitting with hands up before him, eyes half open.

"I will try again."

Spock was moving through the steps as Zienn instructed in a quiet voice when Overlander came home. She placed things on the counter and watched them. Spock opened his eyes.

"Didn't mean to interrupt. Got away almost at the end of shift today," she said.

"We were not succeeding before your arrival," Zienn said.

"Something wrong?"

Zienn looked beyond Spock. "My student is distracted."

"Come and have some juice. I bought mangos from the Thai market, which you seemed to like a lot better."

Zienn stood up. Spock considered continuing to attempt the discipline. Zienn admonished him for it. Spock rose, bowed his head, followed.

Spock pulled a stool closer to the counter where he'd already been served the first glass from the juicer. He could feel Overlander's attention on him despite her moving about the room.

"Can I help with anything, Spock?"

Spock sorted through his emotions. Four days in a row he'd been systematically accosted by senior class members and ordered to perform exercises or lengthy menial chores and errands.

"Everything going all right?"

Overlander set a tall mug of tea down and held it in both hands. Her wavy hair was growing out and she looked less official despite the uniform.

"I have not decided if there is an issue. More importantly, perhaps, I do not believe there is a solution if there is an issue."

She frowned. "What's the non issue?"

"I do not wish to complain."

"Spock. I promised your boyfriend I'd keep an eye on you." She turned to Zienn. "Do you know what it is? You know, from a meld?"

"If I did, I would not be within my rights to inform you."

"Right. I guess I can support that." She flushed, sipped her juice.

Zienn raised a brow as he looked up at her. They mirrored each other with a look of shared meaning. Overlander blew across her tea, waggled her brows. Zienn's expression shifted to smug.

Spock put his glass down. "I am intruding."

Overlander put her tea down. "You aren't. Sit."

Spock hesitated before he obeyed.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing I am incapable of handling." Indeed, it was Spock's spirit being tested, not his competency or his physical abilities, despite the nature of the tasks he was being given.

Overlander leaned her elbows on the counter, clasped hands outstretched. "Let's talk in generalities then. What's the broader question?"

"How does one earn a place?"

"In Starfleet, I assume? Or do you really want it broader than that?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Yes." She rocked her head side to side. "And no."

Zienn raised his chin.

"Want to challenge my logic, Mr. Priest?" She slid Zienn's remaining juice out from under his hand and tossed it down. She put the empty glass down, smiled. When he said nothing, she turned to put more mangos in the hopper of the machine.

"I regret to admit I understood your answer." Zienn stretched out with the empty glass to hand it over.

She took it and got it under the spigot just as bright orange began flowing down a loop of tube.

"You just started at the Academy, Spock. You won't feel a part of things for a while. Middle of second year, maybe. Maybe not until you get some field experiences in third year." She filled both their glasses. "Sometimes you need to be with others under stress to really bond. You have to know you can rely on someone, see them facing real difficulties, to trust them 99%."

"Why not 100?" Zienn said.

"Because you never know."

Zienn held his juice glass up without drinking. "What number do you have assigned to me?"

"What?"

"Percent trust? I am curious the number."

Her thick brown brows went lower. "This doesn't apply to us."

"I reject your logic now." Zienn sipped his juice. "One hundred percent."

"This is how humans find meaning, buddy. Hit or miss. We talk it out."

"I reject it more forcefully in light of that."

They stared at one another.

"You are certain I am not intruding?" Spock said.

"Spock. No. We'll stay on topic." She rotated her tea mug, muttered, "You're a strong ninety nine and a half." She focused her disgruntled expression on Spock. "So what brings up this question about earning a place?"

Spock could not find words he was willing to express. He wished to preserve her apparently high opinion of him, perhaps. He was not certain of the entirety of his motivations.

Overlander sighed. "So, Zienn. Would your kid be like this?"

"Prideful? I should expect."

Overlander turned back to Spock, tugged on his sleeve with her interlocked fingers. "This problem have to do with pride?"

Spock slowly breathed in. "Entirely."

"Okay. I can help then. To really fit in, you are going to need to swallow a lot of that pride of yours. You can be great at what you do, but you can't obviously believe you are. Or you can, but only enough to inform others of it. Égalité, Spock." She waited as if that was the answer to everything. "Help any?"

"You are echoing James. So yes."

"You are too smart at a few things. You can be that, but you need to still mesh with everyone around you, not matter their weaknesses. You can't go it alone. Not in space." She tilted her head to the side. "Not anywhere, maybe."

Spock placed himself at his dorm room desk in front of his repaired padd and entered the connection id from the Antaras disc. A young human male with brown hair covering one of his eyes looked up at him through the screen. "Cadet . . . Spock. Correct?"

"Yes. Correct."

The man smiled as if in afterthought. "Hi. I'm Polaner. I'm doing the pre-interviews today. Please bear with me. Ah, yes, there it is. We had trouble getting your file."

Polaner's eyes were fixed below the camera, brow furrowed. "You're a first year cadet. So. I have a few questions." He sat back from his device and waved his hands as he spoke. "We do a bit of additional screening before we bring people into the lab for the recruitment roundup."

"Are you aware of my scheduling issues next term and year?" Spock said.

"Yes, I see that. Not a problem. The demand for good people only increases from second to third year. We like to lock in commitments. If we can." Polaner flipped his hair, revealing both eyes. "You don't have much in the way of a research record. But you do have . . . a few unusual glowing recommendations." He met Spock's gaze through the screen. "Can you tell me why you think Absom and Chanel recommended you so highly?"

"It is not in my nature to guess."

Polaner processed this. "Right. Do you like having them as instructors?"

"Once one understands their personal version of the rules apply before the general rules, then they are like all the others. Both are eminently qualified."

"Their personalities are . . . ?"

"No matter."

"I can see why they both like you."

Someone off screen spoke to Polaner. He slid to one side and a mid forties woman with pale hair streaked with pink and lemon yellow came into view. "This is my boss, Yadis. She wants to talk to you."

"Hi, Spock. Or live long and prosper I think your people say."

Spock responded in kind with his hands firmly in his lap.

She smiled as if finding him quaint. "I saw your impulse engine models. And saw the dates on the data. You did that work in a few days?"

"I had to wait for the sensor data to be collected before beginning the models."

"I understand that. You seem to be a fast learner, is my point."

"I had difficulty understanding the mathematics of the models. It was new to me."

"Right." She nodded, made a face. She'd been leaning down into the frame and instead pulled a chair over and sat beside Polaner. "I got the sense looking through your bullet points that you didn't have much background in modeling engine resonances."

"None, sir."

She smiled again, somewhat flat and official. "We aren't Starfleet here. We go by first names."

"I see."

Yadis turned to Polaner. "Let's bring Spock in." She turned back to the camera. "You are a little early in your program to be joining a project like ours. But we'd like to show you what we're doing here on moon base seven. That's where we have the roundup. If you're interested."

Spock thought about fitting in, thought about seeing moonbase seven's laboratories, thought about learning in such an environment. "I am."

"We, in turn, are interested in anyone who is smart," Polaner said as he made a note.

Yadis snorted. "We have too many smart people around here already. Should be more than enough, I should think. Twice as many as should be enough." She gave Spock a weak smile. "The absolute brightest don't take direction particularly well. Even though we're a skunkworks, it can be hard to keep everyone in the realm of non-warp engine technology."

"Perhaps you need an intern specialized specifically in management," Spock said.

Her face went still. "You interested in management?"

Spock felt himself straighten. "Not in the least."

She laughed. "Worth a try."

"I know, quite well, a fellow student who is. She organizes all of our group work and keeps social track of a surprising number of our fellow cadets. Directing others in such a manner is an instinctive ability I find fascinating because I do not possess it."

Yadis moved her tongue around her teeth. "A management intern. I kind of like this idea. Put the coin down for two," she said to Polaner. She stood up, leaned down into the camera's view. "Nice speaking with you, Cadet. You seem pretty well adjusted. That's always a plus."

Spock considered the implications of that regarding the others working on the project. "Thank you."

"Polaner will register your friend's information. And we'll see you at the roundup."

Spock gave Polaner P'Losiwst's name and id. Even if he miscalculated about his fellow cadet's interest in a position, he was confident she would appreciate attending such a prestigious recruitment meeting.

Spock settled into bed with Kirk's latest message. He had perhaps miscalculated in his explanation of Shutan's reading assignment. Kirk clearly bristled at the implication. Spock stuck to generalities in his subsequent reply.

A/N: I'm going to be offline for 2 weeks in a heavily blocked country. So no post next week. Everyone take care!