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Chapter Text

1. First Contact: Humans are Tactile and Illogical.

              British Columbia was one of the warmest parts in Canada and the sun shone brightly that day, not a cloud in the sky. A young Spock wore dark blue Vulcan robes, which fell to six centimeters exactly above the ground, just high enough to brush the tops of his feet. His long sleeves, which normally went to his fingertips, were rolled back twice, allowing his pale green-tinged hands to peek out. 

              Once out of the hovercar, Spock’s wide brown eyes trained on the grass in front of him. Green and short, unlike any of the vegetation he had ever seen on Vulcan. It also felt strange underneath his closed shoes, so … soft. 

              Crouching, Spock studied the grass and felt it. There was water on it and the liquid came away with his hands.

              “Spock, stay close to me,” his mother said.

              Immediately he stood up and made his way over to her, holding onto her sleeve. She had a light blue dress on with a veil lightly covering her hair and shoulders. On the other side, his father had robes similar to Spock’s.

              “Why is there liquid water on the vegetation?” Spock asked, walking with them toward the entrance of a large home.

              The home did not look like the ones on Vulcan either. With no sand or mud to build it out of, this must have been wood or stone. It was unusually angular and painted an unappealing shade of brown. Spock could not identify the reason for such coloration and passed it off as a possible tradition.

              “It is caused by condensation,” his father answered him, “there is a higher vapor content in this atmosphere and, with the cool temperatures of the night, it condenses on the grass.”

              “It’s called dew,” his mother added.

              “Fascinating,” Spock said, looking at the grass. The footprints were clearly outlined, a bright green instead of the slightly silver sheen the dew casted on the grass. Spock was slowly getting accustomed to seeing such a bright green on Earth. There was much to get used to on this planet; it has so much more water than Vulcan. Perhaps he could find out later, the compared ratio of land to water…

              There was a very loud, animal-like squeal and Spock turned to see the door open and someone shot out toward his mother. He startled, reaching out to help his mother, before realizing she was being hugged by a woman- a stranger.

              Spock barely held back his confusion and small disgust before the urge disappeared. The stranger-- the woman--- looked similar to his mother. She had the same brown curly hair and soft brown eyes, even if her attire was distinctly different with a yellow top with no sleeves and shorts made out of a blue looking material. There was a high possibility they were related genetically. It was logical, this was a “family gathering.”

              What kind of extended family is she? Spock wondered. 

              “There you are, Amanda! It’s been so long! So long! Like, forever! ”

              It couldn’t have possibly been forever because then they would all be dead. They were mortal, thus, would not live long enough for eternity. Spock looked to his mother who gave the strange woman a smile.

              “It has been a long time,” she smiled, “I’m glad you all could move the family gathering here, the weather here is the closest to Vulcan- perfect for Spock. He cannot regulate his temperature yet.”

              Green twinged Spock’s cheeks and before he could will the blood away the woman looked toward him. 

              “And this is Spock, isn’t it?” the woman asked his mother, not at all posing the question to him. She only looked at him like one would a small specimen, bending down to be at eye level to observe his face. At least, she tried to be at eye level as much as she could, still taller for about seven centimeters.

              Spock raised his right hand stiffly in the ta’al.

              “Live long and Prosper,” Spock greeted.

              The woman’s eyes widened in a strange way he had only seen his mother do once or twice and her mouth opened wide. Spock knew there was nothing to fear from someone who his mother wanted him to meet, his family, but he still had to resist the urge to back away into the safety of his parents’ legs.

              “I’m your Aunt Margie, your mom’s sister, and I sure hope I can live long and prosper! You can already speak so well! What is he? Four?” the woman asked and, once again, not looking at him.

              “He is three Terrain years, ten months, and twenty two days old,” his father answered, “greetings, Margaret Grant. Thank you for inviting us to this… family gathering.”

              Aunt Margaret, the woman was named, smiled hesitantly at his father before that expression fell.

              “Uh, yes! Of course! We couldn’t have you all miss another year. You all should come inside, we have food in the kitchen and barbeque in the backyard,” Margaret paused in opening the door and his mother, thus Spock, momentarily froze on the doorstep, “Vulcans are vegetarians! So, I think the only food we can provide to you all is inside the house. Unless you want us to grill some vegetables?”

              “No, a small selection is adequate. We have eaten before this event,” his father answered. 

              Aunt Margaret nodded,  “Make yourselves at home! Us adults should catch up and Spock, you can meet your cousins! I have to go get some buns for the- CHRISTOPHER! DON’T PULL HER HAIR, OR I WILL-”

              Aunt Margaret disappeared into the house without finishing her previous sentence. Spock did not understand how to make this place… his home. He would rather return to theirs on Vulcan. Especially since there was no slamming of doors.

              It was cold inside, so Spock was happy to walk through the house, shoes pattering on tile, before he was back outside and in the backyard.

              Which was even worse. Loud. At least twenty children were running, screaming, and chasing each other. There was a child on the lap of an adult, crying. One group of adults was eating with their hands, a strange red goop falling onto their arms and down to the grass below. He could smell something that he had never smelled before… something like copper and…

              “Aunt Margie is right, you should maybe try to talk to your cousins,” his mother said.

              Spock stared at the scene before him and the screaming. He wasn’t so sure they would be talking. Or that he desired to.

              Then his mother’s face changed, “it will provide insight into human interactions and speaking with them can allow you experience diplomacy with others different from yourself.”

              Spock paused in thought. He was finding out very quickly that these humans were nothing like his mother. Perhaps this could be a learning experience.

              “That is logical,” Spock acquiesced. 

              It was not logical. He was merely observing them, wanting to find out exactly how one was supposed to participate in such strange games before he found himself surrounded by his cousins. All of them appeared to be in similar age, plus or minus three Terrain years. Perhaps if he asked them he could see the average, which might have been above him about a year and a half...

              Perhaps after they ceased staring at him. Thirty two seconds passed and he assumed that he needed to stop this. What little diplomacy he had learned from his father and mother he recalled quickly.

              “Hello, I am S’chn T’gai Spock of Vulcan,” he said as he held out the ta’al.

              Instantly a little girl thrusted her hand out and Spock stared at it. He had been informed this was a handshake. He should refuse such a thing, his shields would not be able to handle such contact and that was brushing over what it meant within Vulcan culture. However, while he refused, he also had to keep from giving offense, how was one supposed to-

              Another girl raised her own hand as if to slap his own and he quickly pulled it away. Not allowing his surprise to come onto his face-- not this time -- he shoved his hands into his pockets. It was uncomfortable there, he could feel the grains of sand that had found its way from Vulcan. It was dry and small, and it clung to the pads of his fingers, but he knew it would be better than letting anyone else try to touch them. 

              The little girl instantly let out a whine. What for… Spock was not sure.

              “Vulcans are touch-telepaths; it’s highly inappropriate to make contact with others and possibly glean information which would otherwise not be freely given,” he said.

              “Wait, you can read our minds? Just by touching us?” Another boy asked.

              “Not exactly-”

              “That’s crazy, do mine!” Another kid said, shoving his hand outward.

              “I would not like to.”

              “Why not?” the boy asked, clearly dejected. How was Spock supposed to refuse and not give offense? What has his father done in the past? “I asked you to, it should be fine.”

              “I do not want to know your thoughts,” Spock replied.

              The kid burst into tears. Spock turned from him to the little girl, hoping that somehow she would be able to fix this. She stared back at him with the same shock before it finally wore down. 

              “Why not?” she asked again.

              Spock stared. 

              “I have already explained a sufficient reason,” Spock answered.

              Apparently, to his cousins, it was not. She tried to grab at him, luckily, his superior strength led to some advantages. Despite his ingenuity, it was something his father scolded him for. The event ended with large tears streaming down faces, screeching wails, some nameless cousins trying to pin the blame or run away, and would remain an unforgettable first Earth experience. Spock was, after all, Vulcan with a perfect memory.

2. San Francisco: A New Planet with New Sayings

              Spock walked outside of his terminal, his suitcase in his hand. He had been to Terra before with similar Vulcan robes (fitted to his body now that he had since stopped growing) and the memory readily recollected in his mind. He prepared himself for the change of weather, gravity, and atmosphere. He met the humidity with some disgruntlement, feeling the water on his skin unpleasantly before finding the ‘sun’ up ahead. It was a clear day outside. San Fancisco was… crowded. Mostly humans of all shapes and sizes, but there were also fellow aliens such as him walking or going onto hover buses and other modes of transportation.

              He had placed his hands inside his pockets so that they would not accidentally bump up against others. He could feel the few grains of sand from Vulcan still there.

              The VSA, his father, and nearly all Vulcans were light years away. 

              The footsteps, loud conversations in all different languages (some known to him and others a mystery), squeaks or whirls of transportation, metal accessories clinking, and unknown avians were very, very close. So many new sounds that were not processed yet, practically slamming his brian with the new information. Reordering his mind and senses, Spock looked for Starfleet’s hover bus. There were many vehicles matching the description he had been sent to on his PADD.

              His mother had given him advice before he came.

             Terra is different from Vulcan. Friends are not optional, they are essential. Find them or let them find you, it doesn’t matter. They will need you, as you will need them.

              He had returned to the words eight times, trying to understand the specific word choice and what her meaning could be. Why friend instead of ally? Was Earth truly that different? He had surmised this experience would be different from his first visit with the dew, cousins, and crying, but perhaps it would not be. It was something he would have to meditate on later. 

              “Spock of Vulcan?”

              Spock turned to the unknown voice to see a Captain of Starfleet adorning his formal uniform. Command Gold, cut close to accentuate his stature, and his shining insignia. And, if Spock’s research into the faculty and Captains were to be trusted and updated correctly, this was Christopher Pike, an experienced and well liked Captain. 

              “I’m Christopher Pike, here to help you move into Starfleet.”

              Spock stood up straighter, “Hello, Captain Pike, it is an honor to meet you… I had not been informed of the change in my transportation.” 

              Captain Pike did look like his photo, if a little older and… happier. There were gray hairs with his brown and wrinkles around his mouth and a slight difference in the eyes showed his genuine emotion of pleasantness. Spock had done enough research before coming on about what human emotion looked like (apart from his own mother)… perhaps this would put such metadata to the test.

              “It was a last minute change,” Pike said, “they were worried it was going to rain… It’s been raining cats and dogs outside, it wouldn’t have been a good idea for a Vulcan-- Starfleet’s first Vulcan-- to arrive soaking wet.”

              Spock blinked.

              “Canines and felines should not be falling from the sky,” Spock commented.

              “Oh, it means heavy rain,” Captain Pike answered quickly, “I am also transferring another Cadet, will you be okay with the company?”

              “Affirmative.”

              “Good.”

              And with that, they moved into the hover vehicle. Spock noticed the new Cadet was not human, rather, they were Bajoran. Humanoid body with four horizontal ridges on their nose. However, their brown hair appeared to be dyed pink at the tips, nearly matching an old and worn down earring in their right ear.

              “Hello, my name is Yiyu Hobea,” she greeted, with a bright smile, “You may call me Yiyu, I believe you are Spock of Vulcan.”

              He got into the car, noting the space between them. Forty-three centimeters.

              “I am,” Spock replied.

              “Have you been to Terra before?” Yiyu asked.

              “I have once before when I was three Terrain years, four months, and twenty days old. However, we only went to British Columbia, Canada. I detect a different accent than what is often taught in schools, how long have you been on Terra?”

              Yiyu laughed, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

              “That was so quick! And I’ve been here for… five years? Maybe six?” Yiyu shook her head, “Came here for schooling. How do you like the weather? I know it’s very different from Vulcan’s summers… or their all year round weather.”

              She had certainly been here at least six Terrain years. Not only did the dialect match something else, but she was… comfortable. Comfortably human in a way that he had yet to see an alien become. Or estimate. His stomach turned.

              “The climate is vastly different, but acceptable.”

              “I know, right! Let’s hope it stays that way! Knock on wood.”

              Spock stared as she knocked her knuckles on the hover car.

              “I doubt that material is wood, which does not cover the fact that touching materials in any sort of fashion should not have any effect on the weather.”

              Her eyes were slightly wide and mouth was open. He had seen this expression before. Confusion. The Bajorian was confused.

              “It’s a thing, I guess. I learned it from my host family, you do that when you don’t want to jinx something. Hope that the universe doesn’t just want to kick you into the mud, you know?”

              Spock did not know. 

              However, he did know he would write to his mother later that night, and slipping in that he wished he had been exposed to more English idioms and human colloquialisms during his childhood. She had told him to expect different mannerisms, culture, and interactions, and gave the advice to “make friends,” but not English idioms. 

3. Starfleet Academy: Education is Group Based and… Professors are not to be “Humiliated” in Front of their Class

              Though Spock had wished his confusion with the human colloquialisms ceased after a few days, that did not appear to be the case. Within the next forty seven days (and seven point three hours), Spock ran into new sayings or “jokes.” As a Vulcan, he was not going to laugh but oftentimes he did not understand the joke to begin with.

              He had been told he was a “tough crowd.” He might not know what that meant exactly, but it must have a negative connotation. 

              Spock did not understand why he was in Captain Pike’s office either.

              “So… I’ve heard you’ve been bullying Professor Johnson,” Captain Pike started, looking at Spock expectantly.

              Captain Pike likely did not mean literally. But he could mean that Spock was making Professor Johnson feel bad.

              Ah.

              That explained away some of the noises the other Cadets have made after he corrected Professor Johnson. As well as some expressions he had seen on his fellow classmates. And the shocked face of Professor Johnson himself.

              “I merely corrected a mistake within his lesson. Andorians evolved on a natural satellite to a gas giant. To call it a moon could create an unnecessary and wrong comparison to this solar system.”

              “That is only technical,” Captain Pike said, shaking his head.

              “He also said that Andorians and Aenar were two different species. They are not. They can still reproduce viable offspring.”

              Captain Pike stared at him. If Captain Pike accepted what he had said, he might smile and tell Spock that the situation was “fine” or reassure him the matter would “not stick.” Thus, Spock realized that Captain Pike was not happy with his answer when his expression did not change.

              However, Spock was not going to change his answer.

              “Just try to play nice and… if you have to correct him next time, just be more gentle. Johnson can’t take the ego punch like that. I’ve heard similar things from your other professors, not to mention that dinner with Admiral Elkins, but… like I said, Johnson cannot handle that.”

              “Perhaps he should seek out to correct his mistakes and not teach false information or resign from his position as a professor at Starfleet…” Captain Pike was still obviously not looking for that answer either… “I will come to you if such errors build.”

              And with that, Spock was walking outside. This wasn’t the first meeting with him. For the first two months, two weeks, and four days he had five meetings with Captain Pike. Conduct with professors and cadets alike were discussed in all of those. It was… difficult to become used to the group-based projects. Students were not as… motivated as he was. Or time efficient. It was troubling.

              Other than Cadet Yiyu, he had not found himself interacting with any of his fellow classmates. The education system Terra employed was one where most of the learning was found within his fellow classmates. Those two facts together were troubling. 

              It was all troubling.

              And that was not to mention how his mother had told him to value friendships. Allies. He would need them. 

              “Oh, thank god!”

              A human male exclaimed in front of him. Cadet Higgins, a classmate in Introduction to Warp Physics. Spock went to move to the side, opting to get out of Cadet Huggins’ way before he found the human mirroring him. Cadet Higgins appeared to be looking him in the eyes, an indication he was talking to Spock. 

              “I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Cadet Higgins said, his hands reaching out before quickly retracting. And then, at such a quick movement, the cadet fell to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’m just! Please! I need your help.”

              Other cadets were watching this scene with rapt attention and Spock felt anxiety prickle across his chest and chin. Cadet Higgins scrambled up from the ground, stumbling a few times before he righted himself. 

              “What kind of assistance do you require?” Spock asked, his hands staying clasped behind his back.

              “I need you to tutor me,” Cadet Higgins admitted, “I’m going to fail the next exam if I don’t get help now, and if I fail that exam I fail the class and- and then I can’t get onto a ship!”

              “I am less than one meter away from you, there is no need to raise your voice…”

              Cadet Higgins did end up finishing his exam after Spock. Most people did. However, he also raised his hand often during class. That or made noises of… discontentment.

              “I can pay you- I can-”

              “Have you gone to Professor R’tellgen first?”

              “Yes, but he sucks! You- you know the material. Physics. Forwards and backwards. The few times we’ve worked together you’ve explained it all, thoroughly. ”

              Spock still couldn’t understand what made Cadet Higgins come to him for such help. There were other students, other professors, surely they might have made a bigger impression on him… 

              Education on Terra was based on group work. This could be a learning opportunity not only for Cadet Higgins, but Spock himself.

              “You do not have to pay me,” Spock watched as Cadet Higgins nearly melted with relief, “but I ask something in return.”

              “Some- something in return?”

              “I have a list of phrases and words, I need an approximate definition, the context in which to use them in, connotations, and, if possible, their origin,” Spock said, not hesitating to pull out his PADD and handing it to Cadet Higgins.

              He was glad their hands did not touch and that the cadet didn’t drop the PADD. 

              “When pigs fly?” Cadet Higgins read off, his eyebrows narrowing in confusion before he looked up. Quickly his face turned back into relief, “I can help with this! Um, for each session I can fill out… oh my god, how long does this list go? Nevermind, that was rhetorical, yes, I can do it…. So, when are you available?”

4. Starfleet Academy Cafeteria: Foods are to be Tasted, not Researched.

              The list was coming along. Cadet Higgins as well as Cadet Kellen, Cadet Zhao, and Cadet Johnson (Two of them from the Warp Physics and another taking Xenolinguistics) had filled out pieces while also adding more (thirty-two percent were phrases or words he had not added or heard himself). 

              Spock now understood most of what his fellow classmates said. There were fewer mix ups and more students had found the courage to speak to him. And though Spock would not admit out loud, he too found the courage and will to converse with classmates or professors he found intriguing. Perhaps Spock was going to “make friends.”

              He still did not know how to make friends. A few sources said that introducing himself, talking about common interests, meeting up in clubs, making himself available, would allow him to make friends. However, Spock did not like small talk, emphasizing his “good qualities,” and there were some people he suspected did not favor him.

              Still, he was unsure. Humans were hard to understand, even if he had his list. Or researched expressions.

              He was to meet with one at the cafeteria. It was a participant at the Chess Club (one of the few clubs Spock could justify joining), one who did not want to let go of a game that occurred three days prior. Cadet Williams. Spock did not know if it was a surname or a first name, but that was what everyone else called him.

              The cafeteria was large and filled with only grey and bright yellow tones. Large round tables, seating 4 to 10 people, were placed in the middle. One side of the room was spanned by several window panes (half a meter for the base, one meter for the height, perfect for protection and allowing light in), while the other side was a mixture of Replicators and one or two open windows serving food Spock could not distinguish. Perhaps fast food and northern American cuisine.

              It was bright. Loud. And the smells were not pleasant to Spock’s nose.

              On the entrance there was a large screen with thousands of notes, overlapping on another and possibly covering ones below. Walking past, Spock only caught a glimpse of a few.

pizza from Rpltr. 8 sucks, get them from Rpltr. 3 before it breaks- Obi

Whoever aded grapefruit smehow made it wonrg. They dn’t taste like tht.- Eve

No one here knows how to spell- Jeremy

              “Get some food from the replicators and we can finish this,” Cadet Williams decided, shoving his on-hand chess set onto a table with such force it was heard over the loud conversations.

              A group of people stopped mid-walk. However, within a moment, they went and sat down at another empty table. The fact that tables were claimed by objects was put away in Spock’s mind. It was important to know if he were to come back.

              Spock, finding the plan set before him was fine enough, went over to the replicators. He did not bother to look through the preprogrammed recipes and instead looked toward the option to program a new one.

              The button was faded out. He pressed it to find a message.

Must Be Approved By Kitchen Staff.

              Spock stared. 

              “What are you doing? You just have to pick what you want and then we can start.”

              “...”

              Cadet Williams walked over with a filled tray in his hands. The meal appeared to be a red soup, most likely tomato based, and a slightly burnt sandwich with orange cheese melting over the sides. Cadet Williams looked between the message and Spock’s blank face.

              “You’ve never been here before?” Cadet Williams asked.

              There was some frustration attached to his tone.

              “There was no need to consume food here when I could do so where my studies took place,” Spock replied, not taking his eyes off of the selection.

              Spock left out the fact that he had enough Vulcan food at his current living space to last him until three days ago. That was when he had gone to the store and tried his best to replicate different Vulcan recipes he remembered (most turned out terribly).

              “Languages cannot accurately describe food enough for one to understand palatability,” Spock added begrudgingly.

              Cadet Williams shook his head and held out his tray. Spock eyed the food once more before looking up. Cadet Williams shook the tray, only spilling a few drops of a mysterious red liquid with solid particles out the side of the bowl. His eyebrows furrowed and he frowned. 

              “How about you try this and we’ll see if you like tomato soup with grilled cheese,” Cadet Williams said.

              He sounded annoyed. But, would someone freely offer another food if they did not like them?

              “And yes,” Cadet Williams started, “it is vegetarian. Now take it from my hands while I get something else. If you don’t like it we can switch. And then we can finally finish the chess game!”

5. Starfleet Academy: There are Seasons.

              It would have been illogical to go to a new environment without proper research, for how was one to be prepared if they did not understand the new circumstances? Spock had researched the weather of San Francisco forty hours and twenty three minutes after he accepted Starfleet’s offer.

              None of the five hours, ten minutes, and twenty seconds of researching, including both textual or pictorial, could have prepared him for the weather (much like his issue when it came to Terrain food). The first change was autumn. The bright green leaves changed into brighter colors he had never seen on such photosynthetic organisms. The fan-like foliage of the Ginkgo biloba (common name Ginko) turned a bright yellow and several trees in the Acer family (common name as Maples) produced a crimson red. Nearly everywhere he looked upon campus there were bright colors, even brighter than the flowers which had mostly fallen dormant.

              Nearly all plants on Vulcan were coniferous. And of course, why should it be anything else? The only real change upon the desert was the hot and boiling days and the colder and moonless nights.

              While students played in the fallen leaves, Spock merely observed. Surprisingly, he could name a few, Cadet Zhao and Cadet G’holoan, more tutees of his. More students came to Spock for assistance and he found himself being personally asked to be a TA for three classes. He was going to be an assistant next semester. The professor was one Spock had enjoyed, for she was articulate and patient, and for his fellow classmates, she was also “entertaining.” He found himself looking forward to the experience. 

              “I’ve never seen so many colors! Isn’t it beautiful?” Yiyu asked, appearing beside him.

              Her head turned toward him. Her pink tips had long since grown out and bleached out to the white a week ago.

              “It is… fascinating. And cold.”’

              Yiyu laughed and Spock found himself pulling his snow coat tighter around his chest. The temperature had only dropped to sixteen point one degrees celsius. San Francisco's lowest temperature was recorded in the single digits.

              He was already wearing two layers of “pants,” three layers for his torso, and scarf. Spock mused that perhaps consuming more food could help with the adaptation to such a temperature. So far, most of his effort or other ideas had been moot. Too much energy or time was used in maintaining homeostasis compared to the desired levels.

              Hence, the layers. 

              “It’s only fall, it gets colder,” Yiyu said, “do you have more… layers?”

              “No, but I have devised a plan for the lower temperature.”

              Yiyu smiled, “Good! I can’t have my first friend freeze to death!”

              Friend. Was this the first time he had been called a friend? Of course it was, he had perfect memory. Spock could not help it as his eyes studied her. 

              His mother said it was very important he made friends on Terra. Besides the group work, there was the importance of creating allies and… learning. New experiences. New ideas. Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. He had not known that they were friends…. The idea was confusing. What made friends? What made friends have affection or esteem for one another? He had watched other students stay in the same groups, make others, or have the group break up entirely.

              Spock swallowed and his eyes moved from his friend back toward the students playing in the leaves. 

              “Vulans… do not have friends. However, I will endeavor to not succumb to the elements,” Spock replied. 

              And he did survive and stay relatively warm, even if his plans and research did nothing to prepare him for frost, frozen rain, or snow. 

6. USS Enterprise: Humans will Praise Something even if it is Logical and should be Expected

              Vulcan physiology allowed him to bypass many minor pains, pushing it to the side with the mind. Other than the kahs-wan , Spock had never felt much pain in his life. A large cut that spanned from his shoulder to his elbow bled and stained his robes, and the sprained ankle made his trek home slow. The metaphorical pain, however, from losing his selat and the time to walk back to a worried mother and a stern look on his father’s face was more than enough to discourage such risk taking ever again.

              So, when Spock found himself limping once again, he couldn’t help but remember that time and think, illogically, that this was much worse. Each step sent more piercing pain shooting up to his thigh and he stopped, gritting his teeth, and his grip on the railing increased. To his dismay, the metal bent, and green blood was left behind.

              A medic had walked around and done as much bandaging as the wounds required before returning to Medical Bay. However, with the green blood seeping from his hand, it obviously was not enough.

              A phaser created a partially cauterized line from his wrist to his lower elbow. Spock was grateful it had not gotten anywhere else.

              For his first time on the ship, it was more “excitable” than most. Spock remembered the few months before the roster was released, Captain Pike at his door, telling him he was on his ship. Despite such a thing being against regulation, he had heard about this tradition from other Cadets and Professors.

              Discussing the roster and seeing the individuals in action was fascinating, noting which estimations were right and which were wrong.

              However, Spock would have never expected this. Klingons coming. Captain Pike captured. The logical rescue. 

              “Are you sure you don’t want any help?” an Ensign asked.

              Spock quickly shook his head. He did not need anyone grabbing his arm and trying their best to hold him-- as a Vulcan he knew he was much more dense than a human. There were also more wounded who needed the help. Spock would make it to Medical Bay before the healing trance overtook him. The Ensign nodded and rushed away.

              Despite that being the reaction he expected, Spock couldn’t help but feel disappointment as she left.

              It didn’t matter. All he had to do was get to Medical Bay… perhaps even try to see how Captain Pike was faring. Though First Officer Una would no doubt be an excellent stand in, Spock…. What did Spock feel? What did he want? For Captain Pike to be leading because of his experience? Or because of Spock’s personal experience with the Captain and his personnel?

              “Spock!”

              The Vulcan froze and his eyes flickered up to Ensign Williams. Though Ensign Williams still wore red, it was no longer the uniform for cadets… Navigation red that covered up the blood coming from his arm.

              “Why is no one helping you? I cannot believe this!” Ensign Williams rushed, scowling. 

              “I asked them not to,” Spock answered. “I have but 100 more paces to Medical Bay.”

              Another step caused him to pause, closing his eyes at the sudden pain. Perhaps his estimated time of a healing trance taking him was underestimated.

              “Shut up, just shut up,” Ensign Williams ordered, “and let me-”

              “I do not want you to touch me.”

              Not now. There was too much effort being put into pushing away the pain-- which was not working as well as it should have. Spock knew that he must have broken at least two bones, likely small fractures to the equivalent of his femur and likely his Tibia. However, there must have been more damage for walking to be such an issue. Possibly in his ligaments. 

              “Okay, okay! Wait, right there, I’m getting something,” Ensign Williams frowned and disappeared.

              Spock knew that he was not under the command of Ensign Williams, so he did not follow the orders out of obligation or rules. Or anything. However, when Spock planned to inch forward once again, he was reminded of how there were fewer flashes of pain when he did not move. If there was too much pain, the healing trance would overtake him sooner even before he made it to Medical bay.

              Did the humans know of the Vulcan Healing Trance?

              “Okay, get in,” Ensign Willaims said from behind him.

              He turned and noticed a wheeled device.

              Back when they were both Cadets, Williams had decided he did not want to play chess any longer. There was no point in playing if all Spock did was win. At least, those were the words Ensign Williams had said. And what little correspondence they had disappeared.

              Spock did not see Ensign Williams until a few hours ago, even if he had been assigned to the USS Enterprise for the entire mission.. 

              “Why do you have a wheelchair in your possession?” Spock asked.

              “Specifically for you at this very moment, so get in.”

              Spock got in. There was nothing else to say and there was no logic in denying such help when Spock did not have any determination to make the trip himself. It was easier, watching a few people from his spot as he was rolled by. He was not only going much faster (nearly six times the rate), there was less pain (by sixty seven percent). He would make it to Medical Bay before the healing trance took him. 

              “You went back while you were injured, that’s not logical,” Ensign Williams said, interrupting the silence. He was speaking of the events within the past two hours. 

              Spock inhaled. 

              “Captain Pike is the most expertised in such situations, even if he is caught in them. To solve such a situation, he is needed. Additionally, the loss of him would prove rather great to Starfleet and the Enterprise. It was illogical to not participate in the rescuing… especially when it is one’s own plan and contains one’s particular skill set.”

              A speech he had designed himself moments after he realized such decisions would go down in the ship’s logs. It wasn’t hard to create, not since Spock described his thought process perfectly and since his plan worked. Not perfectly, however, but most plans never do. 

              “But that doesn’t explain why you helped me,” Ensign Williams said softly. 

              Spock blinked and wished he could turn around to see Ensign Williams' expression. Humans, he had learned, say as much with their words as on their tone, face, and body. Perhaps the final two were the most important of all. However, Spock knew it was best to face forward in this contraption and he reluctantly stayed still in his seat.

              “A humans’ heart is in the chest cavity. What could prove fatal to you was merely a wound to me,” Spock explained.

              “The phaser blast almost got your hands… I know that those are important to Vulcans.”

              Vulcan hands were indeed very different compared to human ones. Different significance, culturally and biologically. Ensign Williams, though always crass, was very inquisitive and had known about Vulans being vegetarians.

              It was not off the mark for him to also know about Vulcan’s hands.

              Nevertheless, Spock felt something in his chest. Something akin to surprise and… and…

              “It is only logical,” Spock replied.

              “Still… thanks. I’ll owe you one.”

              Spock blinked. He could not understand the gratitude that clearly radiated from the man’s voice. It was logical for Spock to do what he had done. To choose otherwise would have been unthinkable. Why praise something that should be expected? The most obvious and logical reaction?

              Despite the rising protests in his mind, Spock stayed silent as he was wheeled to Medical Bay.

+1 StarFleet Academy: Student Becomes the Professor

              Spock entered through the cafeteria with the wave of students. He no longer limped as seriously as he had before, but there was a clear difference in his stride if he overexerted himself or kept his knee bent for more than an hour. He was told that those effects would decline with time. Spock had created a regimen for himself and expected to exponentially get better. But, so far, he was behind on his recovery.

              Spock had also created a routine for himself as a professor, one in which he only had this hour for consuming food and then had to leave for his next class. It had proven to be efficient and effective. Of course, he would only have to maintain this schedule until classes ended and he received his next assignment to go onto a starship. Though favoritism was often illogical… he found himself wanting to be on the Enterprise, serving under Captain Pike. 

              He walked in, looking passively at the electronic notice board. 

Rpltrs will not give out glass sculptures! STOP SUBMITTING IT AS A RECIPE!- Staff

They need to serve chicken nuggets in the lines more- Sarah

stop changing pad thai on the rpltrs to include peanuts i’ve gone into anaphylactic shock twice just get the peanut packets from the front thx- Jim

              Spock had to tell one of the other professors that “Rplters” was a simplification of replicators while the other was looking through notes to delete. It was called the “weeding” of the notifications, which Spock found mostly unnecessary (mean comments could be deleted by other students and if the comment became irrelevant it was often covered up by other comments). However, some of his colleagues took the responsibility with vigor Spock could not and would not muster.

              With his plomeek soup at his single table, Spock began to eat, his PADD in his hand reading a paper a student suggested he peruse. Cadet Uhura. How the Tellarites have the best language descriptors in the known universe. It truly was fascinating that they could not only describe taste so well, but color. 

              “Excuse me, Mr. Spock,” Professor Glarian whispered, her whiskers twitching with nervousness.

              At first Spock had thought such a gesture was just a part of her species, Caitain. However, over time, he had come to the conclusion she was a rather nervous person in general. As some students had dubbed her, she was a “scared-y cat.” He had heard of the phrases, but still did not understand fully. A joke that he still did not get.

              “I assume you have something you wish to speak about?”

              There wasn’t another meeting with the professors until next week. Perhaps it was personal.

              Or social. Captain Pike had encouraged Spock to reach out to fellow professors so they could become “friends.” Captain Pike referenced their own conversations about the roster for his ship. Before each exploratory mission, starting from when Spock was a cadet they had spoken about the recruited, mostly because a few Spock knew as tutees. Captain Pike said that, like those discussions, Spock could find other more “interesting topics” with other researchers. So, Spock spoke to his fellow professors when he was intrigued by their fields, however… they had not responded in kind with their own questions. Captain Pike said that over time the results could change and to keep trying.

              Perhaps this was a changed result. 

              “There is a video, someone made-- I-- Well-- I think you should just watch.” Before Spock could move, Professor Glarian had shoved her own PADD on top of his and pressed play on the video.

              It was a showing from his second or third row in his lecture section on Xenolinguistics. In the projection behind him was the list of English Idioms he had amassed over the years-- sayings, ‘slang,’ and even some curse words.’ He had added a word and allowed the class to see in case they were wondering what he was doing and assuming that they would add or correct words and definitions as they saw fit. The students were interested, so Spock included them in class the next week.

              So… Professor Glarian wanted to show him some of the lessons he had precisely put together eight days ago?

              Spock looked at her, expectantly.

              Her wide, black eyes stared back.

              “And why are you showing me this?” Spock asked.

              “This video has been shared with the entire student body and faculty members.”

              “Ah.”

              It would have been more educational if someone shared something to go with the video. His lecture before that was the interwoven aspect of idioms and culture, which he specifically said should be seen through the lens of the culture itself and not an outside view. However, there was no audio except for giggling.

              Professor Glarian stared at him still. She was waiting for something else. 

              “Thank you for bringing this to my attention,” Spock said, “Perhaps I will include some information to take with the video.”

              The Glarian instantly smiled fakely. The muscles around her mouth moved, but the genuine smile he had seen before around the eyes was completely gone. That response from him still wasn’t what she was looking for.

              “Okay, I hope that goes well,” she said.

              Spock nodded and watched as she left, her tail curling around her leg. For a moment, he was glad he only said perhaps because, odds were, he did not want to try to contact every person who saw the video. If they were interested enough, they would be able to get in touch with him first.

              Professor Glarian didn’t go far, thankfully. She nearly tripped as she joined the rest of the professors. All of them greeted her with concern, but immediately they leaned in closer as she spoke, retelling of what had happened. Or rather, what she thought. 

              “It makes sense why he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care about anything,” Professor Mullan replied.

              Something twisted in Spock’s gut. No, the interaction with her was not a change in their behaviors… And Spock still did not know what it was he was supposed to care about. What were they talking about?

              Years after being on Terra, and there were still moments where he felt like he had only just arrived. And no matter how illogical that might sound… there was no other way to describe the feeling. It was both frustrating and depressing. Of course, those would be felt if he were not Vulcan. 

              “Mr. Spock!”

              Spock blinked at the newcomer, who was clothed in red regulated dresswear. A Cadet. A human Cadet with black hair and another human Cadet beside her.

              “I am Cadet Marko, and I was… I was wondering! If you’ve… you know…” the Cadet trailed off and laughed nervously.

              Spock waited for her to complete the fragmented sentence.

              “She was wondering,” her friend said, sliding in with a smile, “if you have a copy of your Human Slang list that you can share with us.”

              “Terra English Slang, most specifically from the North Americas. That is only one category I have within the Language Folder that was shown in the video,” Spock corrected, “and what purpose do you have with it?”

              “It’s for my new club!” Cadet Marko squealed. Then she relaxed back, caught between trying to appear stoic and smiling, bouncing on her heels, looking away as she continued, “It’s for a club I want to put together for students who have trouble fitting in at Starfleet. I already have had a few students interested.

              “It is… interesting being here, and I thought it would be good for students to get together, chat about homesickness, share culture, and learn how to navigate interactions with people. Humans. Humans are very difficult.”

              She appeared human, but looks could be deceiving. Spock pondered on her words and thought back to his experience at Starfleet. There were many things he had not expected coming. Perhaps it would have been more efficient if he had some people explain such Terra things to him before he had to find it out himself. 

              “That sounds like an excellent idea,” Spock said.

              There was once, again, another pause. The unnamed Cadet nudged Cadet Marko once more.

              “We also need a Professor who would agree to oversee the club,” Cadet Marko rushed out, “and since you have your list, students like you, you’re pretty cool and knowledgeable about stuff here, and might be able to help eliminate Human bias, I was wondering if you could fill that position.”

              Spock blinked.

              …

              Every day since he had been on Terra, Spock had had to learn. Not only to be able to live on such a planet, but to understand his professors and fellow classmates. Still, that came with understanding the facial expressions or what Humans had dignified as social interaction, he had found he still did not fit in. His efforts, no matter how big they were, often fell short. 

              His students favored him, though. Not all of them, that was to be expected, but… some did. 

              And, they had asked him . 

              Not any other.

              “When do you wish to start these meetings?” Spock asked.

Chapter Text

              Spock arrived one minute and twenty three seconds late to a classroom he did not know existed before this very moment. Inside he saw seven students, including the two who had told him of the club. Three of them were humans while there was one Andorian (blue skin, white hair, small antenna), one Denobulan (pale face, ridges running along the jaws and brow bones), one Orion (green skin and pheromones still releasing despite suppressants), and one Berellian (green scaly skin and bright yellow reptilian eyes). This was the largest species to population ratio Spock had seen in one room.

              “This is our new professor!” Cadet Marko announced, jumping from her seat. She bounced on the soles of her feet, grinning, “Professor Spock! You know, our sole Vulcan Professor. Student. Attendee.” Cadet Marko messed with her red cadet coat, pulling at the inside zipper. Suddenly she stopped and turned toward Spock. 

              Professor Spock blinked.

              The rest of the aliens stared.

              There was a beat of silence before Cadet Marko brought her hands together, “For the club. He is our… Hm. Person who looks over the club! I am Cadet Marko, as you all know, founder of this club. Some of you I know and others I assume have seen my posters!”

              Cadet Marko smiled.

              “I was thinking that we could start with introductions and then go right into what we will be talking about! Sayings! Nearly intranslationable nonsense!”

              “I wouldn’t say they are nonsense,” Cadet Uhura muttered softly under her breath.

              Spock remained undecided on that debate.

              The Andorian introduced himself as Cadet Tossiv (standing tall, though thankfully his blue antenna did not touch the ceiling), the Denobulan as Trokee (she smiled brightly at all of them before nudging, a quick shoulder tap with her own, the next person to start their introduction), the Berellian as Llarid (staring out at the group with little emotion present), and lastly, the Orion. Gaila Vro, she introduced herself, with a smirk and confidence most others did not seem to have as she lounged on not one, but two chairs.

              For once, Spock did know the student… Cadet Vro was a much talked about student, both for her brilliance and disturbances during class. 

              It was a… strange group. That was his hypothesis at the start of the meeting and with each second that passed it was proven. A presentation by Cadet Marko was soon taken over by the discussions of the different alien’s own idioms and nonliteral language (which was fascinating) but then turned into a list of different ways to say someone was lying and, if personified, which saying would win in a fight to the death.

              The last part was… hard to follow, indeed.

              “I hope the last twenty minutes didn’t scare you off,” Cadet Wright mumbled as she inched toward him. Already the rest of the students were walking by the door, talking about their assignments and classes.

              “There was no need, it was… fascinating in its own way,” Spock said.

              “Good,” Cadet Wright smiled.

              Spock turned to see Cadet Marko shuffle toward them, perhaps hoping to join the conversation. It was five minutes and twenty three seconds after sixteen hundred. Spock needed to leave if he wanted to make his appointment, thus, he needed the discussion to end, not begin. 

              “I have an appointment to attend,” Spock said just as Cadet Marko opened her mouth.

              Cadet Marko blinked before she nodded. Both Cadet Marko and Cadet Wright made their goodbyes short.

              In the next moment, he was inside the hallways, briskly walking toward the other side of campus-- near the medical ward. There he passed humans in white coats, cadets in red, and a few lieutenants in blue. He didn’t pay attention to them, though he recognized some from classes. 

              He arrived a minute earlier than asked, walking into the sterilized check up room of Dr. Nologoni.

              Only, Dr. Nologoni wasn’t the one there to greet him. A human man with dark brown hair with white salted in and a red cadet coat was in the room, looking over a few instruments. He was older than most of the students who attended Starfleet Academy and he was grumbling hastily under his breath. The human must be frustrated. Spock recalled many of his classmates or students doing the same when there was a “hard” examination. 

              “Are you a student of Dr. Nologoni?” Spock asked.

              The cadet jumped, his eyes widening as he looked at Spock, “Damn! Warn a man, will you?! You could’ve given me a heart attack!”

              Heart attacks, in this sense, were likely facetious. However… Was this a place to include that idiom? A medical office? Perhaps it was not just a saying. 

              “You do not show symptoms of a heart attack,” Spock noted. The man glared at him and Spock realized his previous conclusion was correct. Another saying. Even if Spock was baffled about the use of such a saying in this context, he knew his appointment was supposed to begin at that very moment. And, of course, Dr. Nologoni was nowhere in sight.

              “I’m a doctor, I don’t need you to-”

              “Where is Dr. Nologoni? He told me he would be able to perform a ‘check up’ at 3:45. It is 3:46.”

              The student gave a lifeless laugh, “Oh, he’s almost always late and when he’s late, it's because he’s forgotten about it.”

              Spock blinked.

              “I need expertise for an injury I sustained.”

              “Don’t we all,” the student mumbled.

              “Unless my perception is off, you appear to be rather healthy, except for the fatigue shown by your darkened skin under your eyes.”

              “Hey! I don’t need to be told I look like shit this late in the day!”

              “I did not, and I do not see--”

              “Whatever! Whatever,” the man said, shaking his head. There was growing frustration, narrowing of eyes, a twitch of the nose, until his eyes caught onto something just beside Spock. The fury faded, just a little bit.

              “You’re Vulcan,” the man said.

              Oh. The something the man noticed was Spock.

              “Accurate observation.”

              The man narrowed his eyes again, “It’s hard to tell if you are messing with me or not.”

              “Vulcans do not ‘mess’ with others.”

              “Okay. Whatever you say. You either can reschedule or I can help you right now, whatever it is you have wrong with you.”

              Spock bristled. There was nothing wrong with him… though, this was likely the idiom commenting about his health not his character. He assumed.

              But, the injury was not urgent and he had been able to exercise and stretch around it (for the most part). It would be more effective to wait for a trained professional to fix his problem than to try a temporary and likely short solution at best.

              Or a painful addition to his injury at worst. 

              “I will reschedule.”

              Perhaps it was a ‘one time thing’ that Dr. Nologoni had forgotten the appointment. Perhaps the certified physician would be there the next time. Spock had the illogical hope that he would. There was an increase of pain in his recovered knee, one that was constant. There should be something they could do.

              Spock nodded at the student and assumed he would likely never see him again. Dr. Nologoni would not forget a second time, surely, for that would be unprofessional. 

-_-

              “Accents are… a challenge.”

              “Really?” Cadet Wright repeated.

              “Yes,” Spock answered. He knew such a question of “really” was when someone prompted an explanation. Spock did not want to.

              “How so?”

              How not was a viable answer. Spock could listen to many recorded books, holos, and still find someone able to pronounce a word differently. What sounded like an ‘A’ in one word was actually an ‘O’ and other instances. The English language was not known for its logical pronunciations and every rule it had there were always exceptions.

              Spock had often wondered why it became Standard. It was illogical.

              “Accents can change how words are heard to others and when one has to translate within their head it can be difficult or impossible. Individuals with auditory processing disorders have a higher disadvantage to such a difference.”

              “Yeah,” Cadet Marko agreed, frowning, “I love having conversations where you are just asking the other person to repeat themselves.”

              “I assume that was sarcastic given that most people would not find such a thing appealing.”

              Cadet Marko practically beamed, “It was!”

              “Great, great, I’m glad that all worked out,” Cadet Wright said, rolling her eyes, “then maybe next time we can do something on accents.”

              “Perhaps. Until the next meeting,” Spock nodded toward them as he went to his appointment.

              And then Spock was greeted with the same cadet from before.

              “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, it’s you again,” the human said with excitement that seemed more forced than natural with the too wide smile and the narrowing of eyes. Then again, maybe that was the particular way the cadet expressed his excitement.

              Spock could not understand if it was the latter. However, it was no matter, for Spock could also find that his mood was decreasing the moment he did not see Dr. Nologoni. Spock quickly put together a list of effects if he were to turn around and exit the room without another word.

              It proved to have more advantages to continue walking inside.

              “I do not understand the phrase nor the logic in calling you a biscuit or touching any part of you,” Spock replied, “do you know the whereabouts of Dr. Nologoni?”

              “He’s sick,” the human replied, putting his hand up to make a strange gesture surrounding the words sick. His pointer and index finger on both hands curling down and up.

              Spock paused.

              “Then I hope he is well for my next appointment.”

              The human groaned in exasperation. Spock must have not understood the man’s previous sentence. Instead of asking, Spock filed the expression and gesture away for him to ask the club members about it later.

-_-

              “‘Ello! I am Pavel Chekov! And navhigazion is,” he paused, “my trrack.”

              Pronunciation. Grammar. Spock understood much changed across languages (Vulcan and English, for example). And, unlike Vulcans, those did not come easily after a lesson or two. It led to certain complications, sometimes pauses, in the conversations as both parties tried to understand what the other was saying.

              However, Spock had often found some of those conversations the most fascinating he ever had. 

              “Where did you get him?” Cadet Wright whispered to Cadet Marko.

              Cadet Marko smiled, “My physics class. He’s really smart! He has been learning English for a while! But this is the first time he has really had to speak a lot of it. And quickly.”

              Cadet Marko moved toward Cadet Chekov, smiling, “So, I was thinking it would be awesome that we could ask your questions and learn more about how you are. And if anything is different here compared to Russia.”

              Cadet Chekov stared at her before smiling and nodding again.

              “Zis place is very specific- No! Strange! Ze food is… not enough. Not,” Cadet Chekov paused, “taste. Full. Not tasteful. People are strange.”

              “The food is strange!” Cadet Llarid agreed, standing up. Then the engineer quickly sat down. “They are all not salty! And when they are, there is often too much salt. In it.” 

              “Salty! Too much or too littol,” Cadet Chekov nodded in agreement.

              “So, when did you get here? Is this your first year?”

              Spock watched as the aliens either paid attention to the newcomer or spoke amongst themselves. He had asked what the gesture he had learned a few days earlier from a cadet. Cadet Uhura was kind enough to explain the sarcasm. Dr. Nologoni had probably not been sick. Spock did not understand why the man would tell him, nor why it should be sarcasm.

              Spock could remember walking around the classroom that morning. The pain accompanying his leg movements felt better than when he had risen this morning. The walk to get dressed and put on shoes was a slow one, his knee stiff and unyielding, only allowing him to limp before it had relaxed. Once he had walked outside, there were sharp pings of pain. The colder temperature perhaps marked the difference.

              The pain and trouble was not normal for a Vulcan. And not beneficial for a Vulcan with the upcoming prospects of serving on a ship by the end of the year. 

              “What are you thinking about?” Cadet Wright asked.

              “Cadet Marko made an intelligent choice bringing Cadet Chekov here. He has some stimulating conversation pieces.”

              Spock thought about what the cadet would be able to do in two years. The way he spoke about  Astrophysics and magnetism was with ease and curiosity. He was also quite quick witted, even if it was muffled behind pauses and poor word choices. Still, the latter was expected with language changes. 

              “Is that it?” Cadet Wright asked.

              He did not understand why humans often pried. His eyes darted to hers, only seeing curiosity. Searching. Calculating. 

              “Yes,” Spock answered. 

-_-

              “Flirting is not necessary for communication, an individual can make their intention known to both parties with a single sentence,” Spock said.

              He did not want to be discussing this particular topic or plan the next meeting as he walked to his second class to teach, but it appeared Cadet Marko and Cadet Wright thought so. His pace quickened and theirs matched.

              “I mean, in a perfect world, flirting is not necessary,” Cadet Marko started.

              “But it is not perfect and humans are notorious for flirtations to be misconstrued or ignored,” Cadet Wright interrupted, “It’s very good to know what is flirting-- we can even do some cultural exchange, a learning opportunity .”

              And this was Starfleet Academy, where students are regarded to be prepared for what was out there, not to have romances that might be torn apart when they are assigned to different ships. Only committed or solidified relationships were regarded when the rosters were chosen. However, Spock knew if he responded to their point, he would have to take them into his classroom. He would not have this kind of discussion when it was his job to discuss the physics behind warp. There was to be no response, no more of a conversation. 

              Turning around, Spock made sure his voice was level when he spoke. “My classroom is here, I assume yours is not, as you are not on my attendance list. We can discuss this on a later date.”

              Cadet Wright’s happier expression faded while Marko merely nodded.

              “Is this because it’s weird for a Vulcan to flirt? Not logical?” Cadet Wright poked.

              It didn’t sound like a genuine question. There was a slight lift in the last syllables.

              Even if it was, Spock was not going to talk about the intricacies that came with courtship within Vulcan, nor the idea of bondmates or the reason to have bonds created when they were seven. Especially not because it involved Pon Farr.

              Additionally, the way she stared was not a student who wanted to listen. Rather, it was someone who wanted to see if the latter person could respond. That often came if the question was an insult. Spock sensed no insult, however. Perhaps teasing?

              “This conversation must end or continue later,” Spock replied.

              Finally, the cadets let it go and exited down the hallway. Still, with his Vulcan hearing, he caught the edges of their conversation.

              “Spock just doesn’t want to pretend to flirt,” Cadet Marko said.

              “Still, I had hoped he’d reconsider,” Cadet Wright said.

              Spock blinked. Then he turned back into his classroom. 

-_-

              “I see this is going to be a regular occurrence. How would you feel about rescheduling again?” Dr. McCoy said.

              It was imperative to learn the cadet’s name since this was the third time. As some people have said before, ‘the third time’s the charm.’ Spock did not understand the saying even after the explanation. And he wished the third time wasn’t so. Or the second time. But, there he was, in the same office with Dr. Leonard McCoy. And not Dr. Nologoni.

              Spock stood.

              “I do not see how the death of a sibling would be a regular occurrence.”

              Dr. McCoy’s head whipped around so fast that Spock was glad the human avoided the cabinet in front of him. Too many times he had seen the humans unknowingly bash their heads, knees, or feet into objects. It was strange considering most of the reactions ranged from pretending nothing had happened to storms of curse words. Or falling onto the floor, crying.

              “I didn’t mean-- oh whatever.”

              Just as quickly as he turned to look at Spock, Dr. McCoy was already typing on his pad.

              It took a moment before Spock paused. Rescheduling was the regular occurrence Dr. McCoy referenced. Spock did not like the regular occurrence.

              “You always come back, I know in the notes it is for reports of pain in the knee area. Could you describe the pain? Do you know what possible accident it could be from?” Dr. McCoy asked.

              “You are not a physician for extraterrestrials if I am not mistaken.”

              Dr. McCoy gritted his teeth. Annoyance. Frustration. It was not an insult, but an observation.

              “Yes, but you seem so keen on coming back here, so I thought I could help.”

              It was an offering… But Spock knew better.

              “I do not wish to exacerbate the injury any further,” Spock answered.

              “But if I knew, then maybe we can make that logical decision together?” Dr. McCoy offered.

              There would be a physical that must be completed before leaving on any ship. At the moment, Spock would have ten months to recover until such a launch. It was an appropriate time frame for recovery from a previous injury. It might not be enough of a time frame if he were to attain another injury. Captain Pike had already asked Spock such questions about his recovery, citing the great feat that caused his predicament. 

              Captain Pike would recount that story with pride. And with concern. 

              “I will reschedule.”

-_-

              “You have moved forward without my input,” Spock said to Cadet Wright.

              He should have guessed something was amiss when he had received a message from Cadet Wright that the meeting would be starting an hour later. They have not changed the meeting time in the eight weeks they have held it.

              Most of the club members were already leaving in their preferred groups. Cadet Trokee smirked with Cadet Tossiv, the blue dark against the paler white, and then Cadet Llaird the Berellian speaking softly with Cadet Marko. The latter was standing near the end of a holo presentation, with bright words saying ‘Thanks for coming to our meeting about flirting!’

              “It would be the best way for them to flirt with people they like,” Cadet Wright smirked.

              “Humans they like,” Spock corrected, “and they can court using their own practices. Or no practices at all; Berellians are asexual and have no need for a partner.”

              “Most species flirt. And most humans don’t care to do research or might not listen closely in class. And if any species wants to have a romantic overture happen right away, it’s easier to copy what we do,” Cadet Wright dismissed. Spock nearly raised an eyebrow, but she continued, “that is how we came to choose the person we brought in today. He’s a known flirt.”

              She gestured to the last group, one that he had yet to process their presence. 

              Cadet Uhura with Cadet Vro and the ‘known flirt’ cadet. The red clothing signifying his status fit snug, even if he was leaning on the wall, and laughing at something the Orion had said. He was human, noticeably so. Round ears, regular bridge, a lighter, but peach-like skin tone, and chopped off hair.

              His laugh was… light. And, after a few years with humans, Spock could tell it was genuine.

              “It was good to have someone in person to demonstrate some things, even if he got a little embarrassed during some of it,” Cadet Wright said with a hint of annoyance. She crossed her arms and frowned. “Perhaps you would understand the importance of flirting if you talked to him.”

              “There is a low probability of such an event,” Spock said.

              Nonetheless, he noticed Cadet Uhura motioning him to join their group. He didn’t wait for another inclination for his presence.

              “What happened?” Cadet Uhura asked, “Emily said that you wouldn’t be coming to this meeting, was it because of the topic?”

              Spock opened his mouth, though he was still putting together the pieces of what had transpired the past hour (the very obvious deception), and then was quickly interrupted.

              “Spock! You did come!” Cadet Vro exclaimed, “that’s great, then you get to meet Jimmy over here,” she gestured to the cadet beside her.

              The human rolled his eyes at the, presumably, unwanted nickname.

              “Jim Kirk,” he greeted, then proceeded to struggle to put the T’lal. It resorted to his other hand helping him reach the correct form. The effort was noted. “It is nice to meet you, Spock.”

              “Cadet Kirk,” Spock repeated. The Cadet turned fully toward him, the calm and easy demeanor becoming taut. It was similar to when students were trying to brace themselves for… Negative comments or expecting punishments. Spock did not know, nor could guess why Cadet Kirk would expect such a thing from him.

              However, the name rang a bell for another reason.

              “Are you the same Jim who had posted on the electronic notice board about going into anaphylactic shock twice?” Spock inquired. 

              All tightness in the cadet’s stature disappeared. 

              “Three times now, but yeah.”

              Spock blinked, utterly baffled, “Starfleet should not have a student encounter any death experiences within the grounds, certainly not surrounding the consumption area.”

              Cadet Kirk nodded, “I’ve learned now to check the recipe each time I get it now. What’s good is that my epipen has been within arms reach each time. And Bones is a call away.”

              “I do not see how speaking to your bones could help with anaphylactic shock.”

              Jim laughed. It was the same genuine mirth from before… There hadn’t been many times in which Spock had ever elicited such a reaction. Some he could count on a single five fingered hand (though, he did not understand why he would).

              The laugh was not unwelcomed. 

              “My friend is named Bones.”

              “I have never met a cadet with such a name,” Spock admitted.

              There were many names with translatable objects-- most names were. However, to come about with one in Standard that was so… undesirable for a person was rather strange.

              “Oh, that isn’t his real name. Just a nickname. In fact, you’ve met him. I can remember him telling me the time he had met Starfleet’s only Vulcan… His name is Leonard McCoy. Well, Dr. Leonard McCoy.”

              That man.

              “I recall.”

              The next appointment will not be soon. Both for Dr. Nologoni to properly grieve, but for there to be extra time in between. Spock could handle the longer wait time since he had put together a few exercises to help himself. Spock had begun to stand and bend his knee in between each hour so that it wouldn’t become stiff. Of course, when he slept or meditated, it did not work.

              The next appointment Dr. Nologoni would appear. He was, after all, the most qualified staff to look after a Vulcan patient. 

              “And I’ve heard about you from Captain Pike,” Jim said, smiling, “for the first Vulcan in Starfleet you are already breaking records. I hope to do the same; I plan on graduating in three years too.”

              The goal could have been seen as egotistical to make such an announcement. And yet, the genuine smile and light in his eyes… somehow suggested not. It wasn’t a prize to be shown off, but a challenge that was welcomed in the highest caliber. An exciting adventure, a hundred page long documenting research that could provide insights into a question you have been wondering for years.

              Cadet Vro rolled her eyes while Cadet Uhura let out a soft, irritated sigh. 

              “What position do you want on board a ship?” Spock asked.

              Cadet Kirk practically beamed.

              “Captain.”

-_-

              “You never used to come with me when I invited you,” Cadet Vro pouted.

              “You have never done such a thing,” Spock replied.

              “Besides, it’s for the club,” Cadet Uhura said.

              The cafeteria. There were still a few groups of cadets hiding around the edges, taking their time finishing up their meals before the end of the day. Most were languidly chatting, single conversations taking up the space instead of thousands of voices.

              And no professors to be seen.

              “Did everyone put the recipes they wanted in the memo?” Cadet Marko called, walking backward to look at the group behind her. With Spock taking up the rear, he could see nearly everyone from their tiny club, except for Trokee. Her reason was that she had planned a date that night, which was of no consequence. At the beginning of the week there were the six different recipes she wanted updated into the replicators.

              There were grunts, nods, and one simple yes for Cadet Marko’s question.

              “Then why don’t I see any from you, Lan?” Cadet Marko said, her eyes already falling onto the Berellian.

              “I don’t want any added,” Cadet Llarid replied plainly.

              The Berellian blinked slowly and without any further instructions, she began to trudge to the nearest Replicator.

              “Okay! Uh,” Marko watched Llarid slowly punch in numbers and codes into the replicator. Everyone waited. The other person who did not show up was Cadet Wright, for what reason, it was never given. Spock did not mind her absence.

              He still thought of the meeting from two weeks ago, her words playing in his head. It was easy to hear the tone and exact words. They bristled him like physical branches and thorns.

              Most species flirt. And most humans don’t care to do research or might not listen closely in class. If any species wants to have a romantic overture happen right away, it’s easier to copy what we do.

              Cadet Wright hadn’t said anything similar to those few lines the last five times he saw her. If Spock were human, he might have thought he had misheard or misremembered that conversation.

              But, Spock was Vulcan. And Vulcans had an eidetic memory.

              “Okay!” Cadet Marko started again, slapping her hands together, “let’s start programming!”

              And like that, they dispersed.

              Spock walked up to the replicator next to Cadet Llarid. It was both strategic for the distance and for the question he had. However, from years of listening to more social species, Spock learned he couldn’t just ask a question.

              There had to be context.

              “How do you choose your current meals with the replicator? I had trouble before finding some human dishes palatable when I first arrived.”

              She paused, her scaled finger fifteen millimeters away from the replicator’s buttons. Surprise?

              “I just… Pick something. Anything and if I like it, I like it,” Cadet Llarid answered slowly.

              “What if you do not?”

              Cadet Llariad huffed. It was a fair question.

              “I still eat it, sustenance is sustenance,” Cadet Llarid deadpanned. Her talon jabbed itself into the button and she scowled. Slowly, she wiggled it out and continued, much softer than even before. 

              “I can order that part to be replaced,” Spock reassured her.

              She did not comment.

-_-

              On a cloudless day, it was much nicer to stay outside. Resting underneath a tree, Spock meditated, his legs straight out in front of him, feeling the rays of Terra’s sun on his face. It warmed his skin and body, his green blood pumping the heat equally through him. 

              It made Spock’s cognitive functions lower, close to a meditation. 

              It was nothing like Vulcan’s star. There the star’s rays made the environment dryer and the heat was a stabbing and ruthless force compared to the slow and steady steep of Terra’s. Like the outworlders, even Vulcans understood the harshness of their weather. However, it did not stop Spock from making such comparisons and having a sort of wistfulness to feel such rays on his skin once again.

              Four Terrain years, Seven months, and sixteen days the last time it was so.

              “Hey!”

              Spock opened his eyes, adjusting to the sudden red in his vision. He turned toward the familiar voice and soon enough was met with Cadet Kirk’s smile.

              “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you around campus,” Cadet Kirk said, “It’s a nice surprise. Are you enjoying the sun?”

              “It is agreeable,” Spock said.

              There was something fascinating about humans calling the star they circled a sun. It would signify that there was something special about the star, even though it was rather “normal” for its class, G2. However, it was clear that the sun was special. It was because Terra, thus humans along with it, orbited the sun.

              “It is, isn’t it?” Kirk said, sighing up at the sky. “It’s the perfect time to have fun out here. Is there anything you like to do for fun?”

              Most things Spock does he knew most humans would not classify as fun.

              “Three dimensional chess,” Spock decided. 

              Kirk whistled.

              “Fancy! Let’s play some! I already have an app downloaded on my PAD.”

              He sat down next to Spock, shifting his bags and things. Spock got right to work, putting away the last of his material he had laid out. 

              Until Spock suddenly stilled. He remembered Ensign Williams. Before the ship, when they were still mere Cadets, Ensign Williams had played 3d chess Spock until the human declared he was done. There was “no point” when Spock always won.

              The Vulcan’s knee ached. Spock had his legs straightened for too long. He pulled his legs closer to himself. 

              “Some people who have played against me did not like it when I won every game. Are you sure you would like to play against me, Cadet Kirk?” Spock asked.

              The human across from him did not shrink or lose a lick of his glee. In fact, Cadet Kirk leaned forward, practically smirking at Spock, “Oh, so confident, are we? Let’s see how the first game is and we’ll see if you win at all!”

              A challenge. Kirk took it as a challenge.

              “I’ll take white, since you are so worried about me,” Kirk smiled, “And please, call me Jim.”

-_-

              “I heard about some guerrilla warfare with recipes on the replicators? Have you heard of that happening?” Captain Pike asked.

              “I am not sure what you refer to, for what was done was not warfare, but, rather, done for comfort,” Spock replied.

              The Vulcan looked down to seasoned brussel sprouts, simple rice and beans, and some garlic covered bread. There was something similar in Captain Pike’s plate, only there was sausage hastily added to the rice and beans.

              It was a meal that Captain Pike prepared that they could both enjoy at Captain Pike’s home. A “relaxed get-together,” he had called it. And it was, at first.

              Captain Pike shook his head.

              “You know what I mean. Recipes that were not approved by the committee were added overnight, I know that it must have been the little club you look after.”

              Spock found the taste of the bread appealing. It had an acceptable crunch and flavor on its own. As for the brussel sprouts, they were more likely charred in an attempt for a similar type of crunch. Somehow, whatever spice was added to the vegetable overrode the slight burnt taste.

              “There are no outlines within the Starfleet rulebook that dictated such a digression. So, I approved of the recipes before they were put in. There is no need for such a committee to do so when I have more knowledge of the recipes themselves. I also had enough information to understand if such recipes would be dangerous to the mainly human population here at Starfleet, they all came out conclusively harmless.”

              And the recipes were. If there was any worry of allergic reaction there were warnings put of such a risk and which types of food groups those specific other planetary ingredients were like.

              “I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone, Spock,” Captain Pike said calmly.

              “Then why are you inquiring about such a thing?”

              “Because they don’t know that,” Captain Pike said, twitching his nose. He only did that when he was talking about something he didn’t like. Spock had seen Captain Pike converse with other captains and authority within Starfleet with such smiles and bright eyes.

              Perhaps some of those were faked.

              “It’s okay. I told them that you always follow the rules if they are written down and are logical. They don’t think it was you or your club.” Captain Pike said.

              It was reassurance that he had lied for Spock.

              Captain Pike shouldn’t have to lie about such a thing that would cause no consequence. But, sometimes that was what humans did. Humans were not always logical. Spock frowned. It was the same with gratitude. Why be grateful for something that was only logical?

              However, Spock found himself feeling such an emotion. Gratefulness. He did not need anything to tarnish his record. Or to add anything else for the other professors to talk about.

              “Thank you, Captain.”

              “Please, Spock, this is supposed to be an enjoyable night. No need to keep the Captain title. Let’s talk about something interesting happening in your life. Anything new?”

-_-

              At first, Spock had never seen Kirk on campus. It was not just Spock’s classes, but even walking between the cafeteria or living areas within Starfleet. Sure, there were thousands of Cadets, Professors, and more faculty and personnel that Starfleet housed, but the odds were not that small. A one point two percent chance.

              Now, Spock almost always saw Kirk.

              And he was greeted with the same smile each and every time. What followed that beaming smile was laughter and games of 3d chess. The weather had changed to a much colder temperature, the sun hiding behind clouds while the wind tried to shoo everyone inside.

              Almost everyone.

              Because Spock and Kirk still played some 3d chess on the cadet’s PAD at ‘their spot’ outside slightly underneath the tree Kirk had first found Spock.

              “You know, I think your favorite pieces are the bishops, you almost always are willing to sacrifice any piece but that one,” Kirk observed.

              Those blue eyes roamed across the hologram of their game, his hand pulled up to his chin in thought. When Kirk took a longer time, thus trying to plan, he always scratched the little bit of stubble he had there.

              It was cold. But, Spock had begun to wear layers, a comfortable sweater overtop his professor black slacks. Spock had wished their outside games would continue, thus, he was ready to combat the weather this time. It definitely helped to have a warm thermos of Vulcan Spiced tea in it. 

              “It is a valuable piece,” Spock replied.

              “Yeah, yeah it is,” Kirk murmured. He leaned away. “And it’s almost the winning piece for this game. Almost.” Kirk moved his knight with a triumphant swish. “Check.”

              The game lasted five point four more minutes before it ended with Spock’s king knocked onto the hologram’s floor. Player 1 wins flashed on the hologram, small glitchy confetti shoot up from the bottom.

              “That bishop kept you alive for ten more rounds,” Kirk said, laughing as he closed up his PAD, “I was right, it is your favorite piece.”

              There was no point in trying to deny something that was clearly false. Each piece was only a means to an end, to have a favorite was… illogical. But, Spock knew better than to try to dissuade Kirk that.

              “It was a great win, congratulations, Kirk.”

              “Jim.”

              “It was a great win, congratulations, Jim.”

              “There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jim teased Spock.

              With him, Spock could tell it was a tease, the light tone, the smile, and the joke barely hidden with such enthusiasm. Interaction with Kirk was filled with many positive emotions compared to the other questionable social events that left Spock wondering what went wrong. With Kirk, reactions were immediate and honest.

              It was refreshing. And it was also easier.

              “Okay, let’s get you inside, I know how much you’ve been holding onto your warmth and that tea.”

              Spock didn’t argue with the accurate assessment and began to follow Kirk’s lead. 

              Spock stood up, placing all of his weight onto his left. He had been sitting down for three hours. It felt like his knee joint had somehow rusted, refusing to bend as a joint should. Spock shifted forward, letting a minute frown escape onto his face as he realized his position was not optional for balance, his right leg still bent and curved behind him.

              “Are you okay?” Kirk asked worryingly.

              The Vulcan blinked, practically feeling the joint slowly loosen click by click.

              Spock opened his mouth to answer, but kept it close. Finally, his leg straightened. It felt sore, bruised. If Spock held still, it would be gone in a few moments. Additionally, movement would come back.

              Kirk still stared. He was waiting for an answer.

              “My physical state is acceptable.”

              “That doesn’t look acceptable,” Kirk said.

              The contradiction wasn’t an insult. It was a concern. Even without the touch telepathy, Spock could see it clearly in the crinkle of Kirk’s mouth, his worried blue eyes, and the constant watch as if Spock could fall over at any moment while they walked inside.

-_-

              Spock didn’t say anything. He stayed seated, his feet together, and his hands clashed in a calm and stable manner. It felt hollow, because it was hollow. Though there was not an ocean of anxiety or worry, instead it was something much worse… and much more familiar. Nothingness.

              Spock felt nothing.

              “Are… you okay?” Dr. McCoy asked.

              For the first time in… it could have been close to a minute to five seconds. For the first time in that… range… Spock felt like he needed to tell himself to breathe. Calm. There was no need to worry twice, it only created twice the suffering he had heard Terrains say. So, it was better to feel nothing.

              “Since Dr. Nologoni has retired, are there any other specialists that would be able to help with Vulcan physiology?” Spock asked.

              “Not any that are on Terra,” McCoy answered.

              Sympathy. There was sympathy in the doctor’s eyes, the way that his eyebrows were relaxed, the slight downward curve of his lips, and the softening of the shoulders. There was no need to look tall and broad when it was with someone who needed reassurance.

              It didn’t matter that all the specialists were away. With Spock being the first human and Vulcan hybrid, he was a special case within himself.

              Perhaps this was why his injury was prolonged. Not properly healed… at least. There were little other logical assumptions one could make.

              Kirk was right the other day. Spock’s physical state was not acceptable. It needed to change, first to perform his duties at Starfleet as a professor, and then to be prepared for any duties on a Starfleet ship. Dr. McCoy. He was an older cadet, already with a title. He must have a medical degree before coming to Starfleet.

              “Do you know anything about the physiology of a Vulcan?”

              Dr. McCoy frowned, “I know about as much as they have told us so far, which is next to nothing. Only your heart rate is faster, your blood is colder, and most of your organs are not situated like a human’s.”

              It was not much. But it was better than nothing.

              “Many ligaments and skeletal structures are the same,” Spock answered. It was something that Vulcans did not readily share (though, that was most facts about Vulcans), but it was true. A fact many talked about when bringing up analogous evolution.

              Having a doctor with little to no Vulcan Healer ability was daunting, having one that had no experience with Vulcan physiology was absurd. But waking up every day with the same ache in his knee and reminders to move and stretch his leg every hour was… inefficient.

              “I give you permission to look through my medical files. If you feel you can apply some knowledge to help me then message my PAD. Then we can find times in which we are both available and discuss the next recovery steps.”

              Dr. McCoy stared at him, wide eyed. And then there was an unruly pause.

              “My god, you’re serious. Of course you’re serious, you’re Vulcan. I…” Dr. McCoy shook his head, looking to the ground, “normally, I’d just say till the cows come home and leave it at that, but…” he looked back up. McCoy’s eyes ran up and down the Vulcan, examining him. “I’ll see what I can do. You’ll get a message by this Friday.”

-_-

              The meeting started and ended with each alien describing a holiday on their planet. Spock watched on, noting some spelling mistakes within the holo presentations and interesting rituals. Cadet Trokee spoke about a Denobulan fertility holiday that had mostly been forgotten and delved into a time in which many people partied in the cities with the requirement of only talking to strangers instead of people they knew. Cadet Tossiv took a pass on such a presentation, saying most people knew about the Andorian holidays… At least, any important ones. Cadet Vro went into a rather explicit holiday that made Spock have the illogical thought of what his life would look like without an eidetic memory.

              There were few times in which that alternate way of life would have been preferable. The fifteen minutes and twenty one seconds, which was the longest of the presentations thus far at the time, was something Spock did not want to repeat. Ever.

              Perhaps this would have been the meeting to miss instead of the flirtations one, however illogical that one was. 

              Except… the last presentation made it all worth it.

              “It’s called the New Line of Life,” Cadet Llarid said slowly, pointing toward the screen.

              There were different textured and colored stripes. Some were geometric, reminding Spock of squares or triangles, while others were organized curved lines. It never ended. Whatever was imagined, those “lines” were pictured.

              “Since Berellians reproduce asexually, there is no genetic variation other than random mutation,” Llarid continued, there was another swipe and another row of photos. However, instead of copies of the lines, it was the lines on the Berellians themselves.

              The special patterns were tattooed and added to a child every time their dwarf planet had completed one full rotation around their much larger neighboring planet (around one hundred and forty six terrain days). The child would choose different kinds of stripes, which would be tattooed on their arms until they were old enough to choose any other place.

              The photos showed the lizard-like humanoids with lines circling their arms, back, legs, and the small tail at the base of their spine. Several different photos showed the Berellians in their natural garb, showing off all of their upper torso, perfect for everyone to see their different Lines. 

              Cadet Llarid, in her calm and muted nature, slowly undid her cadet red coat to show off the light green scales and her own Lines. They were similar to the pictures, most of the colors chosen were black and red, but they moved in a way the others didn’t. It was a wave of texture and lines, wrapping around her arms like arms for a hug, down her back, and up to her chest, swirling around where the Berellian heart was.

              Vulcans did not tattoo often any longer. There was nothing logical in adding adornment to one’s skin outside of ceremonies. 

              “It is nearly statistically impossible to choose the same stripes in the same order and the same place as every Berellian. Uniqueness is not something we have to strive for, rather, it is something we have innately,” Llarid said, letting Cadet Vro trace a particularly unruly and almost drawn like brown line spanning from Llarid’s elbow to the human equivalent of a shoulder blade. 

              “Uniqueness is a gift and a necessity. And that is why we have the New Line of Life.”

              Spock didn’t react as the few humans began to clap. He stared at the presentation and her lines, which she showed proudly. Llarid’s eyes were aglow and Marko was practically jumping out of her seat to be the first one to ask a question.

              Vulcans did not tattoo. Nor did Spock necessarily want something permanent on his skin. However, he did look at Llarid and feel… as if he wished for something she had.

              But, that was illogical. Spock had everything he needed.

-_-

I’ll try to help you the best I can-- Dr. Lenard McCoy

              Spock stared at his PAD before clicking it away. Spock should have gotten up from his seat ten minutes and two seconds ago. He stretched out his leg underneath the table, already feeling the stiffened muscle protest.

              Cadet Wright and Cadet Marko were still trying to decide what the last meeting’s topic would be before the long week of exams and break. Cadet Marko had a list on her PAD, mumbling as she began to write down another idea. Cadet Wright, however, was stuck on a particular one that he did not find to be acceptable.

              “Come on! It’s a good idea!” Cadet Wright said.

              Cadet Marko frowned. “I have to use the restroom. I will be back.”

              “You promise you’ll think about it?” Cadet Wright pouted.

              Marko paused her way to the door, looking at her friend.

              “Maybe.”

              Cadet Wright let out a playful scoff before she turned back to her PAD. The door whished open and then quickly shut. Tapping her chin, she turned toward Spock. He had yet to find himself in a situation in which they were alone to chat.

              Spock found that he was wondering if there were any reasons for him to leave as well.

              “You must agree, it’s a great idea. We go around and say something we miss,” Cadet Wright said.

              Spock did not hesitate.

              “I do not think that is a viable option for most of our species within the club. Some of them are not returning to their home planets during the long break time. To expect them to participate in such an activity might not be beneficial.”

              Cadet Wright bit at her lower lip at the end of his spiel, not looking away from him.

              “And what if it does? I know it helps me. I’m not going home,” she replied.

              Spock stared. 

              “You are worried it will make them more homesick, but what if listing their homesickness helps them get over it?” Cadet Wright continued. She looked him up and down. “Maybe it makes you upset. Wait. I know, Vulcans don’t get upset. Then what do you miss?”

              There were many assumptions within her words, ones that Spock found he could not deny but found to be false nonetheless. His brows narrowed and he felt his lips tighten together.

              “There is nothing I need, for all that is required is already provided.”

              “What about someone?”

              Spock looked down, his face as impassive as ever. However, he did pause and that was enough. He could feel her calculations and curiosity bore into the side of his skull. He had not felt this feeling before. Cornered. And…

              “Though I can holovideo someone, indeed, having their physical presence and advice is not the same,” Spock admitted.

              “What about anything else?”

              “I have everything I need here.”

              Cadet Wright waited as if he were to continue. But, Spock wasn’t. Her eyes were not like Jim’s, though they were blue. There was always too much hidden behind hers, a lightness that made it look like she wasn’t always showing herself. And, though Spock wasn’t as well versed as other humans, he could always and only pinpoint that… Cadet Wright always wanted more.

              Some of the tight scar tissue loosened in his knee. It clicked, becoming straight instead of bent.

              “I do not think your activity would be appropriate for the other cadets,” Spock repeated.

              The door shifted open and that cut off any reply from Cadet Wright.

              There was a sound of the seats moving and Cadet Marko sat down.

              “We should bring homemade desserts,” Cadet Marko said, pointing toward her list. There, underlined and circled several times, was the idea she announced.

-_-

We will need to talk about what they have in your records-- Dr. Lenard McCoy

              “What was that?” Jim asked.

              “It is of no concern,” Spock replied. However, that answer did not appear to be enough, Jim looked like he wanted to ask again. Spock had found the best way to divert attention was to bring up another topic. “What are your plans for the ‘winter break’?”

              Jim narrowed his eyes before he leaned forward.

              “I will probably stay here. What about you?”

              Oh?

              “There are no shuttles to Vulcan during the specific time period and the distance between the two planets warrant the trip unnecessary.”

              And he did not want to go back to see his father. Sarek has not written to him like his mother has… And that will likely stay the case. There was nothing between then and the current moment that would have earned enough of a reputation to help the tarnished one Spock left behind. At least, not one that Sarek would deem enough.

              “Aren’t most people in your club staying?” Jim asked.

              “Yes. A few of them are going to be going ‘sight-seeing.’ Cadet Trokee has already planned out a trip for herself, Cadet Llarid, Cadet Tossiv, and a few other students.”

              “You aren’t going to go with them?”

              “I have already done enough ‘sight-seeing’ upon my third year here.”

              Within Spock’s third year at the Academy he had already visited the closest landmarks within the eighty kilometer radius. After that, he had found most places were rather… quick to see. However, some of those rather frivolous visits turned into more valuable ones when he found himself near some museums. 

              “You know, if you want we can hang out during break,” Jim offered.

              He wasn’t looking at Spock, somehow… nervous. Hesitant. Spock could not understand why.

              “That would be acceptable.”

              Jim smiled, his bright brown eyes turning toward him. They were warm. It was not logical nor did it make sense to call them warm, but they were. It brought about the same chemical fixtures and feelings that staying in the sun did.

              “Great. And let’s try to do some things other than chess,” Jim said, leaning toward him, “I know a great Italian place.”

-_-

              The meeting couldn’t have started in any worse way. Spock should have surmised it when Cadet Trokee began showing signs of hallucinations. Looking in areas in which there was no one and, at one point, answering something when no one had asked a question.

              “Are you okay?” Vro asked, leaning forward as she put her hand on Trokee’s shoulder.

              And then it fell down from there. Wailing, crying, and overall signs of a very, very stressed Denobulan. Spock watched in horror as Cadet Uhura, Cadet Vro, and Cadet Wright did their very best to try to calm her down, one with some tissues, another patting her back and repeating that everything was going to be okay, and, lastly, someone taking all the used tissues with a wrinkle of her nose.

              Amongst the wailing, Trokee was finally coherent.

              “I really am going to be SCREWED! Professor Johnson hasn’t replied to my emails no matter how much I have sent him! It’s at least in the thirties by now! And- and--”

              “What are you emailing him about?” Uhura nudged, rubbing up and down the Denobulan’s back.

              Big fat tears began to well up in her eyes and Spock readied himself for another round of loud sobbing.

              “You need to tell us, we need to know what we are going to yell at him when we beat him up,” Vro offered.

              The tears stopped forming. Trokee looked at the Orion with disbelief. For a moment, Spock wondered if this was another symptom of stress, but then words began to pour from the Denobulan’s mouth.

              “I started to realize a week ago that my hibernation was coming up and when I did the math I found out it would be during finals and then I told all of my professors and all of them were nice about it, they don’t care about having a project turned in early, but Mr. Johnson,” Trokee took a deep breath, more water began to well up, “He won’t let me take it before or after. I know I’ll be hibernating during finals and he said I should just push it off! PUSH OFF HIBERNATION!”

              With that final cry, she covered her face with her hands. Suddenly, it all made sense.

              “Mr. Johnson will give you an extension,” Mr. Spock decided, “I will talk to him.”

              Trokee’s eyes peered above her fingers. Her face had puffed out, almost to an extreme amount that reminded him of a human undergoing anaphylactic shock. However, it was likely stress. Uhura looked away, probably unused to the changes within the Denobulans’ physiology.

              “What? I--” 

              “Do not fret, it will be done by tonight.”

              “Are you sure? I don’t- I think I’ll be able to-”

              “I once explained to an Admiral for thirty seven minutes that even without other Vulcans present I would not partake in consuming the steak offered at a dinner party.”

              This was another event Captain Pike later brought up to Spock… not saying that Spock was wrong to correct Admiral Elkins, but that Admiral Elkins had later “complained” about being embarrassed about the situation. Spock could see how it would be embarrassing to complete basic research on a guest’s dietary needs and still not listen to it. However, some humans were illogical.

              The swelling of Trokee’s face went down.

              “Thank you,” She said and smiled. It stretched so far beyond even a Vulcan’s capability, but Spock only felt warm inside.

-_-

              “The action was illogical and I had told the cadet the matter would be solved,” Spock mumbled over his tea. The leaves soaked in the hot water and the aroma began to seep into the air. Some spice and a mixture of something earthy. At least, that was what Jim had said before when he tried it. 

              Captain Pike stood in the doorway of the kitchen. It was rather small, too small for there to be any comfortable room for two people (Starfleet didn’t give out these apartments to professors with the idea of them having “guests over”). And, yet, somehow Pike made it work, leaning on the side with enough space for Spock to squeeze by.

              Pike wasn’t wearing any Starfleet official garments. Instead, it was a plain white button down and black slacks. It was near the weekend and Spock had no need for his title either. Besides, he didn’t have any other than ‘professor’ at the moment.

              His colleagues thought they were talking quietly when some of them announced that they had been assigned a ship for a short exploratory mission. Professor Mullan said he was told by Captain O’Laney himself. Early. Ahead of the rosters. It was “tradition.”

              “You did nothing wrong,” Pike said softly.

              “You do not need to give me such assurance. My action was logical and, thus, needs nothing else.”

              Even if it also received an impersonal warning about his “overreach” from the Academic Leaderboard of Starfleet

              Captain Pike was rather human. And Spock knew. He knew when he met him. He was also reminded hastily that Pike did not think like him. Instead of sharing his rosters online through the public memo, Pike had done what many other human officers did: he had gone in person months before to tell them the moment they were picked.

              That was how Spock found out he was serving on the Enterprise. Spock didn’t like it then and certainly didn’t like it now. 

              Spock remembered his shock. How could such an esteemed Captain do something like all the others?

              Spock stared at his tea. Soon, there will be too much of the flavor in it. He liked having the perfect balance between the water and the tea. If oversteeped, he found that the drink felt like sand on his tongue and going down his throat. Too much. He couldn’t have too much.

              He took the specialized spoon and scooped the leaves out of it.

              “I know,” Pike said.

              Spock looked up at Pike to catch a proud but pitying look. It was hard to tell, sometimes, with Pike. Though, there was no gleam in his eyes when he smiled.

              “I didn’t come here to talk about that mess. How are the classes, have your students gotten tired? And how is your research coming? Did you get anything with a high p-value?”

              Spock’s colder hand was warmed by the tea as he took the cup in his hand. It would be prudent for Pike to be sitting down for the length of all those answers because even without calculations it will be close to an hour.

              “Let’s continue this conversation in the dining area,” Spock suggested, and then Pike chuckled.

-_-

              “What the hell even is this?” Dr. McCoy smacked his PAD with his hand, “these notes don’t make any sense. Patient lost consciousness and then was resuscitated with adrenaline. Then they tried to continue the surgery? A surgery? In this day and age?”

              Spock realized a few minutes ago they were not real questions and more of a show of outrage and shock. So, Spock watched as the doctor paced back and forth his hands on his lap. The Vulcan sat up straight on the hospital bed that Dr. McCoy insisted he occupy.

              “What do you think?” Dr. McCoy asked, his eyes still wide. Spock had never seen humans express such emotions in a professional setting. He breathed in, his attention fully coming back to the present.

              “I am half Vulcan and half Human, most regrowth of limbs and injuries do not match up perfectly,” Spock answered.

              His physiology was mostly Vulcan. Mostly. Even so, they wouldn’t have known what to do with such information.

              Dr. McCoy stopped, frowning.

              “I know there is that weird Vulcan mumbo jumbo with healing. Something that was rather unique to the species,” Dr. McCoy, still swiping through the pad. His eyes narrowed over the random doctor’s notes and photos.

              “A healing trance,” Spock offered.

              “Yeah, that…” Dr. McCoy said, still not looking up.

              Spock could still run through the memory of that day- the pain shooting up and down his leg, the muscles starting to shut down in order to starve the blood loss and the possibility of increased muscle damage. He could barely walk. And, then, with the help of Ensign Williams, he made it to Medical Bay.

              Almost right as he hit the doors, not three minutes after, he fell into the healing trance. His heartbeat slowed and his eyes closed. He could not feel the onsite doctor, nurse, nor the small group from the main crew prod him and question what had happened to their patient. Nor their increasing franticness that lead to their premature decision. 

              “They didn’t know what a healing trance was, did they?” Dr. McCoy asked.

              “No, I presume they did not.”

              Spock only remembered the way he was abruptly taken out of it, his heart beating nearly out of his side that it felt like it was going to melt out of him. He opened his eyes, feeling fire beneath them, and his mind racing as if the next few seconds was all he had left. It was all the panic he had ever felt put into a few horrible and terrifying seconds.

              There was silence as Dr. McCoy turned back toward the PAD.

              There were only a few times when Spock felt that Vulcans were too secretive for their own good. It was then that he was taken out of healing trance Spock had such a thought. Spock wasn’t able to fall into a full healing trance later that night. Only half in the way that he could still hear some nurses and doctors rush about with a few comments about the ‘poor newbies’ and their terrible mistake.

              Dr. McCoy looked away from his PAD and scoffed, “Oh, bless their small beating hearts.”

              Blessing was supposed to be a good natured word. It was very clear from his tone that it was not.

              “Okay, let’s start with a physical of that knee and talk about the stretches and exercises you’ve been doing. I can then maybe figure out if you’re doing the right ones, talk to a Physical Therapist or something,” Dr. McCoy said, letting the PAD fall to the table beside him.

              Spock tried not to show his distaste of a physical. He didn’t know if he succeeded or not. 

-_-

              “I know, isn’t this the best?” Jim asked, looking around the empty campus. Spock knew internally that it was five pm and the few students or professors who stayed back during the break were huddled in their homes to escape the frigid weather. It was their logic and prerogative.

              The weather was cold, negative three degrees centigrade. Spock would not be out for any other reason if it wasn’t for Jim.

              Jim leaned toward him, frowning, “you’re getting cold.”

              “I am not,” Spock corrected him.

              He wasn’t. Spock had prepared for the walk outside ahead of time. He wore several extra layers, four for his torso, three for his legs, gloves, a scarf, and a hat.

              However, what Spock couldn’t quite prepare for was the cold affecting his knee. Despite the extra layers, the joint was shooting pain up and down his leg with every step. Spock did his best to pretend as if nothing was happening; he knew once he sat down that it would stop.

              “You aren’t talking, that means you are concentrating on something.”

              Jim stared at him, waiting for an answer for his unasked question.

              “There are many things on my mind,” Spock admitted. He had heard the phrase before and wondered if he would ever really understand what it meant. By this time, he was sure he understood. As sure as the random sharp jab of pain and the way he remembered that out of the campus, most of the aliens in the club were together having fun, how the last meeting could have gone if Cadet Wright had pushed further, and what had actually happened.

              Jim nodded, and his chipper expression became solemn.

              “I know what you mean… With the holidays, all the stuff I pushed away during the year comes back. I don’t have any work to do to avoid thinking about it.” Spock looked over at Jim’s sadder eyes and, at once, felt the same. “And I start to miss Riverside. There might have been nothing but cornfields for miles, but… those rows were a common, familiar sight to see. And, for now, they’re just a memory.”

              Spock did not like to see the frown on his friend’s face. And despite not touching, Spock could feel the accompanying tightness in his torso and coldness seep further into his skin in shared melancholy. It had been too long since he had felt the sun on him. A physical presence practically prodding at his skin and increasing his internal temperature without even trying instead of the light he sees outside. Nothing was the same from Vulcan.

              And, somehow, he did feel that same warmth when he was next to Jim. Spock wanted Jim to feel it too.

              Though Spock could touch Jim and the human would know how he felt through the telepathic connection, Spock knew he had to convey such feelings another way.

              “Vulcan is primarily composed of desert. And much like the deserts found on Terra, the soil is mostly sand, whose colors vary from light orange to darker maroons. Our buildings and sculptures are made of sand and we have weather phenomena like your sandstorms or small whirlwinds. I learned from another cadet that they sometimes call the latter dust devils.”

              Jim watched Spock speak as if the words were answers to a near unsolvable question; each important and filed away to be examined with glee later. Spock somehow always felt important around him.

              “With the sand being a constant mark of Vulcan, in architecture and weather, it was easily in every crevice and clothing…” Spock thought of when he had first arrived on Terra and the meeting of his Human side of the family, when he had stuffed his hands into pockets upon their invasion of his boundaries… “And now, here at Starfleet Academy, there is little to no sand.”

              The elicit memory must have been a strange thing for a human to understand. It was perfect in recollection of events, but also sights, smells, and touch. Everything. A perfect record.

              It made it so that even without touching the sand, Spock could still feel perfect sensations of the pinpricks and the way it stuck to the pads of his fingers. 

              He could feel the sand the way it was. But… in a way it only made the act of recalling only more torturous.

              “You’d have pocket sand on Vulcan,” Jim said.

              Jim said the last two words as if it were a title, a colloquial term. Spock had never heard it before, and yet, instantly knew what Jim meant.

              Spock nodded.

              Jim smiled and Spock felt his insides curl and bloom. He liked to keep track of how much Jim had smiled, and yet, each time he nearly fell into the matching glee and warmth and counting didn’t appear logical any longer.

              “You miss your pocket sand?” Jim asked.

              All of Spock’s words boiled down to that statement. His pocket sand. The sand that had comforted the Vulcan when he first arrived and found Earth was not what he had expected. Spock stared at Jim and he realized that there were not many humans that made him feel… understood. Seen.

              In fact, there might not have been any species since his arrival.

              “I miss my pocket sand,” Spock repeated back to Jim.

              Jim chuckled all the way to Giovanni’s Diner before he asked Spock to describe Vulcan to him. And the laughter only started up again once he saw how many layers Spock had to remove at the entrance. 

-_-

              The Biology hallways were dimmed down to only the emergency lights. The soft yellow kept Spock company as he looked over a few of the specimens left during break. The tiny terrariums didn’t have any noticeable die offs, while other individual species looked brightly fed and proud while kept safely in their own made environments. Even some of the rather picky potted plants appeared to have a healthy glow.

              Spock didn’t understand the sudden request to make sure everything was in order, but he wasn’t going to question Professor Glarian’s message. She, after all, had done him a few services. He might as well complete one for her since she was away on a sudden trip with her siblings.

              However, her set up was perfect. There was nothing left there to see.

              Spock turned around, ready to drive down the turbolift before quickly realizing there was already an occupant there.

              Captain Decker.

              “Oh jesus!” Captain Decker screamed, his hand over his chest, “I didn’t see you there! What, can Vulcans see in the dark or something?”

              “Hello Captain Decker. No, Vulcans do not possess the ability to see in the dark, I was simply looking over Professor Glarian’s specimen.”

              Captain Decker leaned to the side, his eyes narrowing as he tried to look down the hallway. There was only a single light on, one that Spock had been instructed to keep on. After all, part of the experiment was the constant radiation. So far the new specimen from Planet XR2 proved to survive with perpetual sunlight.

              It was fascinating to think of what it could mean for some of the more ‘desolate’ planet colonies.

              “Why? Isn’t she here?” Captain Decker asked, still not looking at Spock.

              “She is not, she is away with family,” Spock replied.

              “Damn. I wanted to share the good news in person.”

              “Does the good news impact the Biology Department?”

              Perhaps there will be another purchase of land or a specimen. There were other experiments that were closer to observation of a much wider unit than the labs offered. Or another DNA analysis machine that would be able to map out the sequences rather than make matches within the current databases.

              Captain Decker frowned, then shrugged, “yeah. Next year they’ll have to find another head of the department; I’ll be taking Professor Glarian on a year-long exploratory mission so she can continue her research. Though she hasn’t said yes, I’m sure she will. She’ll make an excellent addition to my crew, I already know how good they work together.”

              Captain Decker smiled in his own thoughts, no doubt thinking of the future ahead.

              There was a public announcement three weeks before launch in which the positions on each ship were shown. It was months and months of hard work to pick the right people for each section, some people being “claimed” rather quickly. But, to claim and tell the recipient a mere month after it was ‘set in stone’? Not only a recipient, but to Spock?

              This was quite a tradition that he did not see the appeal, especially the break in professionalism and information.

              However, Spock felt his heart constrict. He could not understand why. It was not the usual annoyance he often felt when he heard of this tradition.

              “Then perhaps you would have to wait until the allotted declaration of the rosters,” Spock replied.

-_-

              It would be a simple appointment. Spock found himself nearly shivering inside the room and left most of his layers on. He stayed seated on a regular chair, waiting for Dr. McCoy to collect himself. 

              The campus was still empty and thus so was the Medical Department. Most were gone for vacations and, soon, Dr. McCoy would be too. That was why the sun only rose for an hour or two before Spock made his way over. And likely why Dr. McCoy had greeted him, already in a sour mood.

              “It’s colder than a witch’s tit in here,” the medical officer scowled. He quickly pulled over his coat, “I know you Vulcans have that thing. Used to warmer temperatures and all that. Now, I have some good news and some bad news.”

              Spock waited. The doctor appeared to do the same.

              Humans did such a thing when they expected something to be said back. Spock wasn’t sure of the expected response, and thus, stayed quiet. 

              “Normally you will tell me which kind of news you want,” Dr. McCoy finally said.

              “Information is used to understand the world, there is no ‘good’ nor ‘bad’ news.”

              Instantly the other scowled.

              “Yes, please excuse me, I forgot I was talking to a robot. Anyway, most of your mobility should be returning with the new exercises I sent… But,” Dr. McCoy paused. He looked down, his tone dropping, “there will still be some accompanying pain that might never go away. The swelling, which has been causing some discomfort while using it, will only go away with time. And that’s brought us to the scar tissue. That will not go away.”

              Scar tissue.

              “Vulcans do not have scar tissue.”

              “Vulcans who were allowed to have a deep meditative trance would not have scar tissue,” Dr. McCoy corrected.

              Spock blinked.

              Scar tissue did not go away fully, not even with the advances within the medical field. There were no newly minted cells that could repair that damaged area. It needed to be scoured and redone.

              Of course, that would require paperwork, promises that the surgery would only do that, the procedure itself, and then… the healing process. Spock did not have such time available, not when he needed to be physically ready for exploration on a vessel. At least… if he was assigned one.

              Spock would likely be assigned one.

              “We could do some things to lessen it, but if you keep on doing the exercises, we can see if we need to. The only issue is that… it’s been a while since your injury,” Dr. McCoy shrugged, “only time will tell of your recovery.”

              Spock nodded.

              There wasn’t much else to say on the matter. No wondering or wishing what could have been. Dr. McCoy looked away, frowning. Spock had seen humans do such things when they wished to comfort someone, but wasn’t sure what to do. Spock did not need the comfort.

              “Thank you for informing me. I will continue the exercises,” Spock said.

              “Good, glad I don’t have to bend over backwards to make sure you take care of yourself. You’d be surprised how some people are. It’s like they come to a doctor and then get upset when I don’t say what they want me to! You’d think ‘stop smoking or else you’d die in a year or two’ would be an easy request!”

              He huffed out a breath. Dr. McCoy looked at the ground before he looked down at the door.

              “I’ll be back in a week. Try not to get into any trouble,” Dr. McCoy said.

              It sounded like an instinctual mantra. Spock did not correct him that he couldn’t get “into” trouble. The interaction had come to an end. Dr. McCoy turned his face and feet away from him as he began to pack his belongings.

              So, Spock made his leave as well, already planning on meditating on the news he received. And, if be, how scar tissue could affect mobility.

-_-

              “I’m glad you’re here,” Jim said, smiling.

              “I told you O’eighteen hundred hours was adequate forty two hours and three seconds ago. Other than the obvious fact that Vulcans do not lie, there is no reason for me to arrive late or miss our planned meeting.”

              “Oh, stop it! You know what I mean,” Jim said, playfully pushing at Spock’s shoulder.

              The pressure felt strange to his skin and the tiny touch of joy brushed against Spock’s mind before it disappeared. At once, the contact was over and Jim turned his attention back toward the holovideo in front of them.

              It did not feel like the invasion that most touches felt like. Those were blips of uncomfortableness when Spock felt the warmth and thoughts from another person. He had seen humans cringe away from spiders as if they burn them, scrambling away on top of a table in the cafeteria. Spock would not like to compare himself to such a reaction, but… there were some similarities in the emotions. 

              Most touches were uncomfortable. But… Jim’s were… something that came with him. And with it, Spock’s acceptance of it.

              In fact, now that Spock noticed, it was something he looked forward to. Not for any pleasure of his own, but rather, the pleasure it brought his friend. The way Jim showed his excitement, pulling Spock toward a strange specimen they found in a museum of previous inventions and inconsequentialities. Jim rambled on, wondering why humans would have encyclopedias of random crafts, and yet Spock only thought of his touch because of how little it affected him.

              It was… something that Spock did not understand. Like most scientists, maybe he would question it.

              But later.

              Spock turned back toward the holovideo. After all, Jim would likely want to discuss it afterwards about the story structure and the cultural significance.

              And they did. Though Spock wasn’t sure it would count. It was a long movie that Spock found rather… boring.

              Jim had cited that the characters were lackluster, had too many montages, there was not enough emotion shown on screen, and a lack of “humanity” in the message. As Jim continued, Spock found himself somewhat agreeing with the sentiment, even going as far to say that the message left much to be desired.

              In fact, an analysis of the film left much to be desired. 

              “Can you imagine? Making that much money at the time and there are no cultural impacts? Absolutely none. Stories do not come out like it again and we don’t even see reviews.”

              “The story mostly consisted of archetypes and cliches, both within characters and storytelling. To retell or have it affect the genre would be reductive. The most intriguing part with the holovideo was the world to explore and visuals, which you had informed me was considered too lengthy of a process for many companies to consider such an adventure later on.”

              Jim’s eyes widened, “Oh my god! Yeah! Just! It’s insane. It’s insane how the looks alone could make so much money and… yeah. Because the only thing like it is the next movie. And it’s the same formula for the arc. We can break it down, scene by scene, character by character. Do you ever wonder what holovideos would have looked like if they did consider it? What a great story would look like in that detail? It’s insane to…”

              Jim‘s long rant trailed off, his eyes wide.

              “Jim,” Spock said.

              Perhaps it was the time. Most humans need eight hours of sleep to perform adequately… Though Jim liked to test that fact several times a week. It should be different, however. Jim did not have any place to be the next morning and could sleep in.

              “It’s practically two,” Jim said.

              “It is,” Spock agreed.

              Spock had known the time. The importance of the time, however, did not distract him from the stimulating discussions. If anything, it was the most fascinating part of the holovideo.

              “You should have told me!” Jim said, shaking his head.

              “I presumed you knew. Next time I could inform you of the time each thirty minutes, would that appease you?”

              “Don’t joke, Spock! You have that important meeting tomorrow with the professors and everything since everyone is coming back for the second semester! Didn’t you say it was at O’ eight hundred?”

              Jim’s voice came out saddened and his face had lost the joyous glow. He was worried. Concerned.

              “Zero seven hundred hours, to be exact.”

              That made Jim only groan more, covering his face as he slumped further into the couch. Spock did not understand why Jim was so upset. Sure, initially, but not this long.

              “I will be ready,” Spock reassured.

              “Oh sure, you with ‘Vulcans don’t need to sleep’ and all that,” Jim mumbled from underneath his palms.

              Jim was surely distraught. It could be the fatigue, changing how the human would normally react to such information. But, despite the possibility, and likelihood, of fatigue affecting how information was processed, it would do nothing to help Jim with the negative feelings.

              Negative feelings that Spock did not understand Jim had. After all, Spock kept track of the time. Still, Spock had started to notice Jim would often look at any sort of problem, his or not, and somehow find the fault in himself or his actions. ‘What could he have done to prevent it?’ Jim often asked himself.

              It was a Captainly flaw.

              But, ultimately, something that Spock did not want his friend to fall into.

              “Jim,” Spock said softly, his pale hand finding its way onto Jim’s shoulder. He could feel the leftover joy from the events of the night and the seeping in guilt and worry from moments before. It flowed freely from Jim, without try or challenge.

              The human’s eyes found his. 

              “I have weighed the costs and benefits of this interaction and tomorrow morning. You need not be concerned about a choice that wasn’t yours. Especially since I know I will not regret this choice,” Spock said.

              There was a moment as Jim let those words sink in and then he nodded.

              “After the meeting, wanna message me? Maybe we can do something tomorrow too,” Jim said.

              “Yes.”

              Taking that as the end of that endeavor, Spock got up. His knee was stiff, but not enough for a few paces to ease it into regular functionality. He could feel Jim’s stare as he made his way to the pile of coats they had hung up. Four, all of different materials, and he methodically put them all on, layer by layer.

              Together, they headed toward the door and Spock walked outside. The cold wind greeted him. It will not be a long trek to his housing, but it would not be pleasant.

              The cold did make his pains more varied.

              “I love hanging out with you too,” Jim said, “Sleep well.”

              Spock paused and turned around. Jim was tired, the dark coloring under his eyes more prominent. He wondered why he didn’t notice it before.

              “You as well.”

-_-

              The second part of the year started the same as the first. It was packed with students finding their new classes, trying to gauge what the professor would be like, running through the hallways if they were late, and more action around the labs of resuming or starting new experiments.

              Spock did not mind the increase in activity, in fact, he embraced it. Even if he had less time to do more leisurely activities.

              The club started up again, many returnees rather excited for the start of the year, and the large group recounted their adventures around the United States during their break. It was pleasant and easy conversation, ones that Spock found himself listening to attentively. Nyota was rather quiet too, watching as Gaila told Jim some of the “crazy things” that she did during the break.

              “What did you do during the break?” Nyota asked.

              “I completed some experiments, prepared for the upcoming semester, and exercised,” Spock answered and looked over at her.

              The exercise did help with some mobility within the first week. And now, the positive effects have stagnated. He had already sent a message to Dr. McCoy about further recommendations before an examination was done.

              “What did you do on the holiday?” Spock asked.

              It was both customary to ask and something Spock wanted to know…  Nyota did not always speak of her family, but when she did it was with a warm tone.

              “It was nice seeing my family again. I got to see some cousins I normally do not see, I also tasted my mother’s cooking, which is something the replicators can never get close to,” Nyota smirked. Then she paused. “Was that all you had done during the break? Did you not see anyone?”

              “Jim was here. We spend different days exploring new restaurants and watching holovideos to discuss their merit and possible effects on the entertainment industry,” Spock answered.

              Spock did receive enough social interaction that Nyota often bothered him about. He was Vulcan, however, so it was not something quite as necessary as it was for humans. Spock expected Nyota to change the topic to something else, eased in knowing that the requirement was filled.

              But, Nyota raised an eyebrow.

              “You did that? With him?” Nyota asked.

              Spock opened his mouth, then closed it. He pondered for a moment.

              “I am uncertain about what you mean by those questions,” Spock said.

              Nyota’s confusion flittered across her face, “I am not sure either. I guess I am surprised that you enjoyed his company. Or that he would do that. But I shouldn’t be surprised really. It sounds like you had fun.”

              Fun wouldn’t be the words Spock would use, but for the sake of brevity, he did not protest it.

              "I did," Spock said.

-_-

              “Hey, Spock,” Captain Pike greeted, “it’s good to see you.”

              Spock was perched on a seat, using a pipette to collect what little DNA had been replicated. It was gentle work… work that often people didn’t like to do. Spock offered a small sum of time to move the new samples from one main collection base to the tiny vials while Professor Fleming graded the papers she assigned. 

              Captain Pike normally did not visit academy locations unless there was a request. And it had been some time in between their last visit. Likely from the increased population on campus and all of the programs and professional work starting once again.

              “To what do I owe your presence?” Spock asked.

              Captain Pike shook his head and let out soft chuckles. Spock felt himself relax. Perhaps this visit was one of his human whims. Captain Pike did not hesitate as he walked up to him, his footsteps echoing in the empty lab.

              “Can’t I just hop in to check on you?”

              “You can,” Spock said. 

              “I heard that you have been going to the Medical Department a few times in the past months, is everything okay?” Captain Pike said nonchalantly, leaning on one of the tables just to the side of Spock. 

              Spock continued with his meticulous work. Or, at least tried to continue as if he wasn’t bothered by the question. His movements became slower, his natural precision taking longer than normal to acquire. 

              “There is doctor-patient confidentiality, Captain,” Spock replied.

              He eyed the Captain and watched as the other human took the rebuff. But, there was determination in those crow wrinkled eyes. 

              “I’m only worried as a friend,” Captain Pike said.

              Friend.

              Perhaps there was some information Spock was willing to part with. Something that would not deter the expectation of his physical health but, rather, reassure such worries.

              “Recovery from the Klingon attack while on the ship has been less straightforward than originally assumed. I am working on exercises to bring back full mobility,” Spock said.

              “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

              Spock always found himself at a loss to understand why humans said such a phrase. There was nothing that Captain Pike had done personally. And yet, saying such a thing, and in that tone, made it sound as if it was their fault.

              “Kaidith. What is, is,” Spock said.

              He had been sitting down for too long. Not calling attention to it, Spock stretched his right leg out into a straight line, feeling rather than hearing something akin to a pop. It would be fine. 

-_-

              His legs shook from the exhaustion. Spock completed several stretches, lifts, and exercises to strengthen his muscles and tendons around his kneecap. Dr. McCoy had said that should alleviate any pain and help return the leg to “as normal as it can be,” flexibility and ability wise.

              Clearly from that comment, Spock came to the conclusion that the injury would not fully go away. Spock, after going through several recovery months since the incident (nine months, three weeks, five days… and hours not accurate), have found that to be the case and by this point should have “gotten used to it.”

              His eidetic memory did not allow him. 

              Not when Spock once bounded up steps with little to no difficulty, the same steps he struggled down, often shaking without any real reason at all. The muscles and tendons did not feel the same either. Instead of strength and confidence in the appendages, he could feel the strain. Before, while it was healing, it felt like cotton in between the two bones, causing movement to be slow and unstable. Though the ‘cotton’ has disappeared, the instability did not. Instead of tight, reliable tendons and cells, it felt like there was something missing. A string ready to snap.

              And, perhaps, it would always feel that way. It would be a new normal while the mobility would be at its previous performance.

              At least, Spock had hoped.

              “Why didn’t you tell me you were working out?”

              Spock turned away from his last step on the stairs to see a rather messy Jim. He had a t-shirt and shorts, not fitting to the colder weather, and a thin layer of sweat covered his skin. His hair was different from its combed position to pointing in all different directions.

              The Vulcan felt his posture relax.

              “I cannot tell you my entire schedule,” Spock said, though he turned toward Jim.

              “But we could have done some of it together! And, I don’t know, make it more fun along the way. Training is so boring otherwise.”

              “Focus is needed in training.”

              Jim shook his head, “Sure it does. I listen to lectures and books every single time.”

              Oh. That was an efficient use of time and mental capabilities. 

              “Perhaps for the more routine exercises I would take that into account,” Spock said.

              There were several lectures that Spock had added to his list but had yet to get around to listening to them. That was not to mention the different papers, certain books, and--

              “No! You’re supposed to say that’s boring and you’d rather work out with me! Then maybe we can talk about--”

              “Professor Spock, just who I wanted to see.”

              Spock straightened as he turned toward Professor Mullan, his wispy white hair covered in a cap and wearing a bright yellow sweater and blue jeans. Not gym attire. And he had interrupted Jim. But, when Spock looked over at Jim, expecting him to continue, he just stared at the other professor.

              “Oh, and hello Cadet Kirk,” Professor Mullan said, as if he just noticed Jim. His eyes were wide and swept over him as if to make sure his assertion was correct. 

              “Hi Lieutenant Mullan,” Jim stiffly said back. 

              “Sorry to interrupt the get together you two have,” Professor Mullan waved off disingenuously. If the human was truly sorry, he wouldn’t have done it in the first place. “But I need to have the Vulcan for a moment.”

              Spock said nothing. He didn’t see the merit in talking to the other Professor and it was only the expected ‘professionalism’ that Captain Pike had spoken to Spock about that kept him silent.

              “Okay,” Jim said, sounding reluctant and perhaps a bit confused, his eyes darting to Spock “I’ll talk to you later.”

              Spock offered the Ta’al.

              “Never thought I’d see Kirk willingly talk to a Vulcan,” Professor Mullan muttered and before Spock could ask him to explain such a statement, he continued, “Cadet Llarid’s effort has been dropping in my class. I’m wondering if you could guess the cause.”

              What?

              “Cadet Llarid’s end goal is Engineering, there is little to no reason why her effort should cease in Mechanical Physics.”

              “Yeah, I’ve been wondering if it was because she was a Berellian. You know what they say about them and becoming engineers. Perhaps it’s coming back to get her and it's now too much effort to continue.”

              Sure, there would be increased learning difficulties, especially with it being later in the second semester. Nearly every type of review would have been completed and there would only be new material.

              But Llarid had the right resources to continue.

              “I’ll speak with her,” Spock said. 

-_-

              “It’s hard being here. Harder than I imagined,” Llarid said.

              Spock could remember the first time he had met her in the club. The excitement to agree with Cadet Chekov about the strange flavor of the foods there. And then when she was asked if she wanted to add any recipes to the replicators. And her presentation.

              Her initial happiness has been lowered over the course of a few months. Not continuously (with Marko it nearly returned to herself every time), but overall…

              “What are the disadvantages of Starfleet?” Spock asked. 

              After their club meeting, in which they had played some Denobulan board games (and found there were several moves many of the participants couldn’t do), Spock had asked to speak with Llarid. She silently walked further down the hallway, passing different doors and meeting rooms, until they secluded themselves into one.

              Llarid didn’t answer. So, Spock started to offer options, something to pick from in case she did not think of something.

              “The class rigor can be lowered, if you were to transfer to--”

              “It’s not the classes. I mean, it is. But it isn’t. I know I can get tutoring if I need it, though I know I have to request specific times. The professors are okay, some of them are great, I just… I’ve never felt so… so different.”

              Her scaled face twisted into sadness.

              “I’ve never thought that… that could be a bad thing...”

              Berellians did not have tear ducts. There was no point since there was already so much protection for their eyes. But there were different ways to express sadness. Her green scales dampened their intensity, falling to a sad, muted forest color.

              “What has happened to make you feel this way?” Spock asked.

              “There… I’m not sure. A lot of little things. I’ve had two students comment about my scales, and not in a good way. The professors are nice, but sometimes don’t know how to talk to me. And…”

              She blinked.

              “I overheard Admiral Kormack talk about you.”

              Oh.

              There was a piece of Spock that wanted to say that she shouldn’t have overheard what was likely information they did not want her to hear while the other knew this was the best way to identify the reason her effort had ceased. But, Spock did not want to hear what Admiral Kormack had said about him. 

              He didn’t say anything and Llarid continued.

              “They were talking about you being on their ships, him and the other commanders, and Admiral Kormack brought up that if you haven’t become used to human things, then how can you get used to diplomatic meetings? Or humans? How can you do well on a ship full of humans? But I thought you were used to humans. I don’t understand. You’ve been here for years, and you do good work, I mean, they snatched you as a professor as soon as they could, and if you can’t fit in Starfleet, then how can I?”

              Vulcan did not have many larger vegetarian creatures, nor did it have herd-like animals. There was not as much safety in numbers, not when the heat and lack of resources were just as common and just as dangerous as a Le-Matya. 

              However, Spock could understand the evolutionary advantage of connections and the full fatal force a stampede was. 

              In a way, that was what these questions felt like, a crushing weight of mental wanderings that Spock found himself, too, wondering about. One led to another, another question, and another hit, another crack in the resolve that Spock picked the right path because what if he didn’t?

              No.

              Though… though it created cracks, there was a reason why he had thrived here (for the most part) and why Llarid did. And one thing, he learned as a professor, was not that they weren’t allowed to be humiliated. Some of his professors might have felt a hit to their ego because of a student correcting them, sure.

              But others found mistakes a hard pill to swallow because the idea of teaching the wrong information was so vile that some could not even consider the possibility. Because there was nothing worse than to point students, who rely on you like a child to a parent, in the wrong direction. 

              So, Spock tried to be careful with his next words.

              “Starfleet picks its Captains, Lieutenants, or Ensigns because of what they have learned while studying here and the actions that demonstrated inventiveness, creativity, and expertise in their respective fields. While social compatibility is an added bonus, and often looked for, it is never a determining factor,” Spock said, remembering the portion of the speech Captain Pike had said when he was a Cadet.

              As those words left his lips, he found them to be lacking. There had to be more… and there was, easily.

              “A Berellian engineer. That phrase was often used in a jesting manner,” Spock started. He remembered when he had to add it to his list of idioms and thought it was rather strange. The way Cadet Llarid didn’t react, however, told him that she had already known such a thing. “And then you enrolled here in Engineering and the phrase in a joking context has dropped nearly sixty seven percent.”

              “They just want to be nice,” Cadet Llarid said quickly.

              “It is not about niceness.”

              Her eyes flicked up at him.

              “Everyone has come to understand what determination and joy in their studies looks like thanks to you.”

              Berellians did not have tear ducts.

              But she did wrap her arms around his waist, pulling him close to her as she buried her face into his shoulder like her life depended on it.

              Sadness and discomfort raced through Spock. He could feel the mixture of feelings, a Chemistry experiment nigh gone wrong, most of it still swirling together before churning out an exothermic reaction, bubbling out heat and energy like a volcano. Half of it was from her, so overpowering. The other half was him, in the relief that… perhaps she would continue in her studies. 

              There was only a moment where Spock wondered what he should do before it was decided.

              Spock returned the hug, a hand around her shoulder blades, close to where a Line of Life resided.

-_-

              There was too much noise. There were fifty-six individuals, only six of whom were himself and people he knew. The speakers were louder than the suggested eighty decibels and though Nyota’s singing voice was nice on his ears, the three other singers were not quite as skilled. The group Spock was in was not as close to the stage, nor the bar itself, but rather situated near the edge of the establishment, which offered some reprieve. 

              And Spock did not like the smell. Alcohol did little other than sting his nose and the sweat and pheromones that permeated the area was a type of sourness that Spock could only compare to rotting vegetables.

              It was just a celebration of the last break before the end of the quarter and Jim promised that he wasn’t going to drink much. And he didn’t, only a hand around a single beer that was sipped at intervals. Currently, Jim laughed at something Gala said.

              “I will go up there! Don’t encourage me too much!” Jim bellowed, laughing across the small table separating them. Jim nudged Spock with his shoulder, “What do you think? I should try to sing?”

              “I do not know your skill level enough to give an appropriate suggestion,” Spock replied truthfully.

              Jim and Gala laughed even harder. Though it was the truth, Spock knew it would elicit that reaction. It was something Spock knew about humans. No, it was something Spock knew about Jim. Jim often found Spock’s honesty and small jabs rather refreshing…

              Once he settled back into his chair, Jim had a bright look in his eyes.

              “I’m going to do it. Maybe after a song you can tell me if I suck or not, since I know you won’t sugarcoat it,” Jim said, smiling at Spock.

              “Vulans always tell the truth,” Spock said.

              Jim took it as encouragement, more so than the yells coming from Gala. He bounded up closer to the front, disappearing into the crowds. There were likely enough people in the establishment for it to become a safety hazard if an emergency situation arose. Spock also knew that most people likely did not care about such a fact.

              “Maybe you should sing, Spock, I would think you’d have a better voice than Jim,” Nyota said.

              “I do not wish to,” Spock said.

              He would much rather pay the lyre. Something about the string instrument, the way his fingers plucked each one, and the certain tone that came along with it. It was different, far better than trying to do the same with his vocal cords. 

              “Damn! Took me forever to find ya’ll!”

              Without another hello, Dr. McCoy situated himself at the table.

              What was he doing here?

              “Hello, Dr. McCoy,” Spock greeted.

              “You don’t need to say all that doctor stuff, I’m off the clock,” Dr. McCoy said, frowning. There was a beer in his hand, the same brand that Jim had been nursing. “I’m trying to let loose, isn’t that why you’re here?”

              “More like we’re torturing him with the outing,” Gala grinned.

              “Torture is a greatly exaggerated verb for this endeavor.”

              “See! He hates it!” Gala said.

              Spock could have said that he in no way had said anything like that, but he knew it would be a moot point. There was already a knowing grin on Nyota’s face and Dr. McCoy did not appear to change his mind on that offered opinion any time soon.

              “I am Vulcan. I do not feel anything for such an activity,” Spock said and earned snorts from his audience, “I only do not understand the logic behind consuming substances to inhibit logical thinking, being in a place with noises that are higher than recommended by physicians, nor have the need to sing when it is not one’s talent.”

              Gala was in a fit, convulsing as she almost fell to the floor as if he had said the most hilarious thing in the world. Dr. McCoy rolled his eyes, mumbling that ‘of course you thought that’ under his breath.

              “People sing because it’s fun, you don’t have to be good to have fun,” Nyota said, smiling.

              And that was when the first notes of Jim’s voice over the speaker rang out. It was tentative, like the song, only a whisper.

              Spock turned toward the stage, watching Jim’s fingers shake as he held the microphone. However, there was a daring look in his eyes, a glee only found when… he was about to overcome something extraordinary.

              The song started out pleasant to the ear. And then, quickly, became something that wasn’t. But, Jim was grinning the entire time. So, despite Spock’s sensitive hearing, he found it was tolerable. Notes crashed into one another and a few other humans joined in the song, not quite reaching the right pitch either, but emotion leaked from their voices like sugar from honey.

              Spock stretched out his leg underneath the table. It didn’t click, but he could feel the muscles resist before relaxing. 

              “Spock?”

              The Vulcan turned to the side, seeing a face he hadn’t seen in years. Red colors of Navigation, but the bands of a Lieutenant. Lieutenant Williams stared at Spock as if he had seen a ghost. Then that confusion turned into… amusement. Like their chess games when Williams had thought he finally figured out a play that would trap Spock’s king. Only, Williams never did.

              “It really is you,” Williams said, starting forward.

              The rest of the table stared at the newcomer with bewilderment. Nyota’s dark eyes turned toward Spock, silently asking him something. Whatever it was, Spock found that he didn’t know nor did he find it a priority.

              However, Spock found himself speechless as he took in William’s appearance. He aged, with more scruff on his neck and chin, darker circles under his eyes, but there was a happier glint in that he had not seen during their Academy days. 

              “Who’s this?” Gala asked.

              “Lieutenant Williams, Spock was a peer of mine,” Williams said, shooting out his hand to the alien. She took it, confused by the professionalism no less. Williams didn’t seem to care about her expression or limp handshake as he turned back toward Spock, “I never thought I’d see you here. Didn’t think you’d find it relaxing.”

              “I do not. I am here with…”

              “Friends. Speaking of friends, I have someone from the ship,” Williams turned toward the entrance of the bar, “Yiyu!”

              It felt like the ground underneath him shifted. Two faces in one night from his first Academy years. It felt… strange. Unnatural. The two beings were from a different time in his life, an anachronism of mixing the past and the present.

              Nonetheless, the Bajoran came forward. Instead of the pink she had favored long ago, it was a lavender that swallowed any other color in her hair. It played with the lighting of the bar and soft yellow, turning into a strange green where shadows met. But, her smile and excitement were just the same as before.

              Her expression was a wildfire of emotions compared to William’s small lighter of surprise when he saw Spock.

              “This is Spock, the only Vulcan I talk about,” Williams said with ease to her.

              “I know Spock! He was the first other alien I met at the Academy! In Captain Pike’s car!” Yiyu gleamed, forgetting Williams, forgetting the rest of the occupants who stared at the exchange with bewilderment, “How is life? How are you?”

              So much attention and excitement, but somehow, it didn’t overwhelm him as it did years ago. Or during their graduation ceremony. 

              “I am… well. I am a professor at the Academy.”

              “They got their claws in you to do that. They had to! You were awesome helping everyone to study and learn the material and just… wow. We’ve been on the ship, really. We only have a break for a week before we head back out for a year-long mission. It’s been interesting doing mostly the grunt work, but… something bearable before we get to something we want to do,” Yiyu turned to see the other occupants. It was like she saw them for the first time, “And who are all these? Your friends? Ha, though I know you say Vulcans don’t have any friends.”

              “Of course, the robot said he didn’t have any friends,” Dr. McCoy rolled his eyes.

              Gala ignored him and introduced herself, then it went smoothly with Dr. McCoy (who did not preface that he was a doctor nor that Spock was merely a patient. Doctor-patient confidentiality, Spock assumed) and Nyota.

              “Who’s all this?”

              Spock didn’t hear Jim’s approach. It was as if he ‘appeared out of thin air,’ and at Spock’s side. His face still held a smile, but it was not as carefree the mere minutes before. There were tightened muscles around his cheek and eyes.

              “Another friend of Spock’s!” Yiyu greeted, holding out her hand. 

              And there went another round of saying their names. One would think that Jim would have been relaxed as they were introduced, but he wasn’t. The same facade stayed on his face as Yiyu began to tell Jim some ‘silly stories’ from when they were cadets such as Spock’s layers, plans for the cold weather, and his ‘tutoring ring.’

              Spock didn’t understand.

              “And what about you? How do you know Spock?” Jim asked, turning toward a silent Williams.

              During the talks, he had received a drink of his own and appeared content to observe. Some frustration crossed over Williams as he was reeled back into the conversation.

              “I wanted to play Spock in chess. I heard he was good. And he was, he beat me every time,” Williams said quickly before he paused. “And a year ago we served on the USS Enterprise together, didn’t really speak much to each other, and then he saved my life.”

              “It was only logical,” Spock quickly said, recalling their conversation years ago perfectly.

              However, Jim’s eyes widened and, for the first time since the two newcomers had arrived, Jim came alive. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and he gave Spock an expression of ‘how have you managed not to tell me this?’

              Williams too, somehow relaxed. The conversation that he appeared to dread was now something that he wanted to indulge in.

              “Spock’s leg was also injured and he was literally limping to Medical Bay,” Williams continued, shaking his head, “and he was stubborn. Apparently turned away help before I forced him into a wheelchair.”

              Jim’s glance between Spock and the leg he had outstretched was apparent and not at all hidden. Spock pulled it back discreetly, his attention on Williams as he continued.

              “And the funny thing? He didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. You still don’t,” Williams finished, his eyes falling onto Spock.

              There was no confusion or judgement in his gaze. Rather… acceptance. Even if Williams stared at Spock like he was a specimen he would never understand, it was one of awe. It was never about the knowing about the specimen, but rather, the remembering about the specimen. 

              “It was only logical,” Spock repeated.

              He was like a broken sound piece set on repeating. But… there was nothing else to say. William’s intent on repeating the old discussion still seemed… strange to Spock.

              Jim chuckled, breaking the strange tension.

              “Yep, sounds about right,” Jim patted Spock’s shoulder.

              Amusement and awe that were not his own invaded his mind. The mixing emotions with his own leveled out to contentment as Spock spied Jim’s genuine smile.

              “Well, we can leave you to spend the night with friends. It was nice seeing you. Maybe we can speak later,” Williams said.

              As Williams turned to nudge Yiyu, Spock understood that the sentences were filled with half-truths. The interaction was a pleasant surprise. But… They will likely not see one another before they leave. Busyness of life and schedules and some human fickleness about understanding when to let relationships fade when there was little to nothing holding them together. Williams let the interactions fade away when the chess games did. He would likely do so again. And… Spock felt only a little bittersweet at that thought.

              Williams was always going to be someone that Spock would only look back and remember because of the small events that profoundly affected him. And that would have been the case even if Vulcans did not have a perfect memory.

              “It was great seeing you, Spock! Hopefully, they get you on a ship again soon!” Yiyu waved back at him. 

              “Yeah… It’s cool, you’re a professor,” Williams said, “You always were patient and thorough and there’s not much else to ask from someone who is supposed to teach.”

              And then the two joined another group of Starfleet officers. More Red. Yellow. And Blue. Eventually, those colors disappeared amongst the others in the bar.

              “Hey Spock, do you want to go up there and sing?” Jim asked.

-_-

              “Vulcans do not celebrate like other species do. Many actions are considered logical and not to be praised, rather, they are expected. There are many milestones that Vulcan youth and adults go through that are both similar and dissimilar to your own, much so that I have surmised that another kind of presentation would be needed.

              I am sure some of you have heard of the saying, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, IDIC in acronymous form. Coined by Vulcans it speaks of the positive inclusion and conclusions of when the unlike come together to form solutions, research, and community.”

              It wasn’t always done that way, on Vulcan, Spock had found. Some Vulcans liked to speak the words, although they did not hear the notion behind it. He had found that through the way some of his peers had treated him during school, the strange relationship most Vulcans had for his mother (love of her brains, shunning of her human origin, confusion about the relationship between his mother and father), and the comment during his “acceptance” from the Vulcan academy. 

              But IDIC was a sentiment that he had found himself attracted to the moment he had heard of such a thing.

              “As humans would say, you ‘bring something to the table’ that others cannot. Though some may count it as a weakness, it is a strength like no other.”

              Spock might have not always believed it, but he knew it would be the right thing to say after Llarid. He had chosen Starfleet for a reason.

              Even if… it did not deem him ready to return to a ship of exploration yet. 

-_-

              “You have to play the game, Spock.”

              Spock turned around to see Cadet Wright in the doorway. He looked between his experiment and her. She moved down the walkway with a purpose, no sort of smile on her face… and Marko was nowhere to be seen. 

              “Play the game?” Spock repeated, “to what do you refer?”

              Being the logical being he was, he was alert even without the gnawing feeling in his chest. Vulcans did not rely on “gut instinct” like Jim or other humans did, but it didn’t mean they didn’t feel it. For the first time, Spock’s gun screamed at him, scratching at the insides, red alerts blaring behind his eyes. He turned in his seat, letting his feet point toward the exit… and toward Cadet Wright. 

              The relaxed posture was gone, her muscles around her face were put together in a way he had never seen from her: stoicism? Stress? What was it?

              “It’s a science, how to speak to humans. I know how you love science. Science. Strategy. Duets. It’s all the same, you said it yourself. So why is it you told them to not do it themselves?”

              “I still do not know what you are ref-”

              “Laughing, crying, smiling, telling jokes, being human right back. Mirroring is the best way to show you are friendly and create connections with others.”

              Spock blinked. Cadet Wright was much closer to him than he would have liked, a mere forty six centimeters, looking down at him. 

              “As you know,” Spock started, “some of the members, including me, are not Human. It is illogical to pretend otherwise-”

              “A few is nothing compared to the many,” Cadet Wright interrupted, crossing her arms, “and most members of Starfleet are human… and if I remember correctly, you’re half human.”

              Cadet Wright looked down, picking at her nails, clicking them together. Nervous activity. But was she actually nervous? All of what she did told different stories, and different expressions of emotion. Was she doing it on purpose?

              “You know what it is like to not fit in. I assume most of your life, especially since you lived on Vulcan,” her eyes darted upward, catching his own. Her clicking of the nails stopped and she paused. Spock looked back at Cadet Wright. He did not need clarification.

              “That is an insulting assumption,” Spock replied.

              “It’s not insulting, it’s human. You were not Vulcan enough on Vulcan, and here you are too Vulcan. Why didn’t you switch it up?”

              Cadet Wright moved away, looking at the other experiments.

              Those years of bullying came back to the front of his mind and Spock felt the ice start to surround his heart. He had started to open up at Starfleet, learning the wonders of the universe and how he was going to change them. Of course, with people he trusted at his side. And yet, now Spock felt it all began to close up, patch by patch.

              Spock did not feel like he had to “fit in” all the time. But it was painful when he did.

              “The only difference between Vulcan and here, other species and Humans, is that friends and allies matter much more than your merits,” Cadet Wright looked back from the doorway, “one word wrong, either from yourself or others, and Admirals and Captains will not consider you. It’s a hard truth. One you shouldn’t have told them otherwise because they will find out the hard way,” she paused by the doorway, her hand over the button. Cadet Wright clicked her tongue, “It’s much more painful to recover from such a blunder… and they’ll be able to blame it on you.”

              The door sounded and Spock was left alone in the lab.

-_-

              “You’ve been quiet,” Jim said.

              “It is a library. That is the requirement of being in a library.”

              “But we’re never quiet here.”

              Spock and Jim did have conversations about seventy eight percent of the time. It wasn’t that they had strayed too far from the academics they were planning, reviewing, or completing whatever assignments they had or interests they had found. In fact, all of their conversations had to do with some theory, hypotheticals, and papers.

              That was why Spock had chosen this certain room: to not disturb the other librarygoers. And, by now, it was their room.

              “And I’m not just talking about now. You’ve been quiet for the past few days, “Jim leaned forward, his holopad forgotten, “What are you thinking about?”

              If Admiral Kormack was right. If Cadet Wright was right. It was hard to be objective when the question and hypothetical itself was so enwrapped in the emotional, the irrational. But, that was reality, Spock had come to find.

              It was on Vulcan. No matter how many merits he received, it was never enough. And now it was the same on Earth.

              Jim waited patiently.

              “Cadet Llarid told me that Admiral Kormack mentioned that I might not make a good addition to their ships. That my lack of responsiveness to human gestures and customs will equate to events where Starfleet has to interact with other species. That I would fail their gestures and customs… And that I might not do well amongst humans in such a ‘tight area.’”

              It was illogical. However, Spock had learned that “gotten used to” meant that they wanted Spock to show more feeling, to be more human, to be… To be fully human.

              Spock was not fully human. 

              Vulcans were three times stronger than humans. They had cooler green blood, compared to the warm red. Vulcans did not lie since there was no logic in such a thing. Vulcans went into healing trances, had a spirituality that some humans could not understand, and meditated to control and organize their telepathic skills and perfectly remembering mind.

              Spock was not fully Vulcan either.

              Spock, for once, felt his lips curl downward.

              “Cadet Wright had also mentioned I should not have encouraged the club members to embrace and keep their tendencies of their culture and species. That creating a connection with other humans was more important than merit… And that to create connection was to let go of what might stop it.”

              Being Vulcan.

              Perhaps Cadet Wright was right. In order to be accepted… he might not be able to toe the line between human and Vulcan. He had to choose, and the choice would be to only be human.

              But, Spock had to toe the line, that was who he was: both.

              Perhaps… Perhaps because of that fact, he was never going to succeed no matter which path he took.

              “They said that?” Jim said, his eyes narrowed.

              Spock nodded.

              It was defeating, to come to such a conclusion. But it was one that Spock felt he could no longer avoid. For how could it truly be wrong if he was always coming back to it?

              “That’s fucking stupid.”

              Spock’s pondering and increasing melancholy stopped at the declaration. There was no hesitation in Jim’s response. None whatsoever. And it was said in the clearest confidence.

              “Elaborate,” Spock said.

              Jim let out a mirthless chuckle. It was nothing like the happy, hearty laughs. This one was from fury.

              “First of all, Emily only has Marko as a friend. Sure, she’s friendly with almost everyone and all that, but she doesn’t actually hang out with any of them after class. So I don’t think she should really be handing out advice about connections if she doesn’t have any real ones. Maybe it's because she hides anything interesting or different about herself because she’s worried people won’t like her. 

              “And Captain Kormack? He might have pretty good stats on paper, but have you read any of the reviews about him? They’re shit. Half of them complain about his lack of awareness about personal life and how there is something outside of Starfleet, outside of work. The other half have the most boring, most normal thing to say about him. Yeah, he approved my day off, saw him at lunch and it was not the worst, he let us have shore leave at the place we always have shore leave.”

              The fury was not directed at Spock. It was in defense of him.

              It was still startling to see Jim was practically on the table, his chest touching the edge, and his face red from the words. It was as if he was about to choke on the venom he created with those sentences. However, Jim only continued.

              “So, yeah, that’s fucking stupid. Especially since having you, like?” Jim’s tirade softened, “You only add to Starfleet. It shows in your transcript, your records, and your students. You have only sought to learn and teach here, looking for nothing else and…” Jim’s eyes flittered away from his gaze in a shy way that Spock had never seen before. It made Spock want to comfort his friend for whatever nervousness was overtaking him. 

              But, Spock didn’t. And Jim continued. 

              “You look at things in a way that makes it feel like a discovery of a new world, even if it is… well, if it is only our world. And that’s not only with the theories you know, but the holovideo nights… And you are incredibly kind, in a way that most people don’t know what to do with. Because anything you do is ‘logical’ and so no thanks or praise is needed,” Jim let out a small laugh, “and I guess what I am trying to say is, what makes you different? Or not human? Is perfect. Or as perfect as anyone gets.”

              Jim’s eyes met his and let out a sigh. Somehow, after all the anger, Jim had leaned back into his chair.

              “So, yeah. They’re stupid, Spock, don’t listen to them. You’ll be on a starship in no time, any of them would be lucky to have you there.”

              There was silence and, in an effort to give Spock more time to process, Jim let one of his hands go back to swiping at the holopad.

              It took a few minutes before Jim’s words sunk into Spock, into his insecurities, into his questions, and finally, into his colder beating heart. It felt like something clicked back into place inside of him, something that had been in the wrong spot for most of his life.

              Spock put a hand over Jim’s. Jim looked up, surprised, as Spock squeezed it. Spock let his gratitude, happiness, slight confusion, and contentment roll over in the connection like waves lapping at the shore.

              “Thank you, Jim.”

-_-

              “Shut up!” Marko shouted.

              At once, they all stopped. Cadet Wright blinked, wide eyed at her friend. Meanwhile, Marko let her shock show on her face. The anger melted away to reveal only horror. And, at once, that emotion moved away too as Marko averted their eyes from everyone

              “I need you to stop. You are not right. It is not right. People… can learn. And they do. Because even humans themselves do not adhere to those rules. I…” Marko brought up her arms from staying rigidly at her side to scratching her forearms. Her dark eyes darted across to each of them before landing near face level, pointedly at no one. “I am human and I don’t. Adhere. I do not. I do not do everything as they say I should. I break my words. I cannot… I have found myself alone before. For years and years.

              And I have never been stupid enough to not realize it. That it wasn’t just them. It was me. People are… hard to connect to, especially since there is no manual. The manual… It is not to change who you are, it is… to read what you couldn’t before. Understand what you could not before. To adapt what comes naturally, to care and love genuinely, and to… not belong but to find others… others who want to connect just as much as you do

              And… I believe I’ve done well. Once I read that manual. That’s why this club was made.”

              Marko’s eyes flickered to Spock.

              “It is… It is a strength. The differences. And if you do not believe that, then I do not think… I… I don’t think this club is for you. Emily.”

              Her friend stared at her.

              In fact, they all stared. All of the aliens that ever came to the meetings and the humans who stopped by and ended up staying, they afrozen not just because of shock, but because they were waiting. Waiting for the young cadet, Cadet Wright, to perhaps say that she was wrong. That, maybe, Marko was right. 

              Jim, however, had a small glare, a seeping manner of distrust underneath it all.

              Any and all kinds of emotions came off of Marko and Cadet Wright in waves. Betrayal. Anger. Hatred, not at either of them present, but of only things not forgotten in the past. Two sides of the same coin stared at each other and willed the other to move.

              At last, it was Cadet Wright. The door swished open and closed.

              Llarid put a comforting hand on Marko’s shoulder. 

-_-

I’ll be coming over in 10 minutes.

              That was what Captain Pike had messaged Spock twelve minutes and thirteen seconds ago. The kettle has since stopped boiling, individual tea cups were placed on the table, and steam slowly started to disappear from Captain Pike’s cup.

              Spock thought about his previous meetings with Lieutenant Yiyu and Lieutenant Williams. Times had changed from their time at the academy… and it also hadn’t. He could still feel the surprise at their small reactions to his position as a professor at the academy. 

              You always were patient and thorough and there’s not much else to ask from someone who is supposed to teach. 

              Those words might as well have been pried from Lieutenant Williams, the way the human guarded his compliments and considerations. And yet, they flowed freely from him. There were some of Spock’s students that would agree… and others would disagree.

              Other Captains too.

              The positions for each ship would be publicly posted today, though most officers would have known the information for months. Professor Glarian had known for four months and sixteen days. And Spock had known that information, too, for a similar amount of time.

              It would be nice for Captain Pike to explain who had chosen and why. It was one of the few subjects that Captain Pike was willing to go into detail; his understanding of the individual’s skills and possible ways they could work together was hypothetical but logical. It was stimulating in a way that could only be compared to an experiment. A wonderful setup for an experiment. Captain Pike had done so each year since Spock had arrived.

              It was longer than ten minutes for at least four minutes and five seconds.

              Finally, a knock at the door spurred Spock from his seat.

              He opened the door to a positively excited Captain Pike. The excitement wasn’t shared like Jim, rather, it was the way Captain Pike’s facade of a composed Human cracked, random moments of happiness breaking through a twitch in his mouth. Spock only had a few moments before Captain Pike was walking in, heading straight for the table and his tea.

              “It might be the human in me, but I wanted to repeat the news to you in person,” Captain Pike quickly said.

              He sat down without another word, and stopped, only motioning for Spock to join him.

              “I think you’ll need to sit down for this,” Captain Pike said, “or you don’t. You’re Vulcan.”

              Oh. This will be a rather long conversation about his put together roster. Spock slid into his chair, his hand touching his teacup.

              “I have already sent the announcement in a public memo,” Captain Pike said, a smile stretching nearly from ear to ear, “but I hope you like the crew I’ve put together for the Enterprise this year.”

              “I am sure I would find your decisions agreeable. I have found so every year.”

              “Good, because I was not sure how you would like serving as the lead Science Officer and Lieutenant Mullan as the lead Security Officer.”

              Spock paused, his teacup in mid-air. Pike’s eyes widened.

              “You did not…” Pike frowned, his eyes darting, “You didn’t check? It was posted this morning around five o’clock? Out of everyone, I thought you would have checked.”

              “I did not…”

              The last time Spock graced the Enterprise he was told in person months in advance.

              “Last time you looked so upset,” Pike said, “you said it was against the rules and that the little tradition wasn’t logical, not when you had three weeks before launch, plenty of time to prepare. Spock, I…”

              The Captain blinked, bewildered.

              Captain Pike looked just as shocked as Spock felt. Surprise swirled around his mind, making it blurry with thought. Why did Spock not check this morning? How did he not come to this conclusion? Why did Spock not calculate the chances of him appearing on Enterprise this rotation? Was it because he was afraid he wouldn’t be?

              “You thought I wouldn’t ask for you back? After what you had done?”

              “The… the sacrifice I made to my corporal body was never to be in exchange for permanent-”

              “Of course it wasn’t, of course it wasn’t! I just… You are a valuable asset on my ship. I took you as soon as I could. Probably the fifth person I picked.”

              Oh.

              “Now… since you haven’t read the roster yet, I want to see if you think I picked the right people. And I’ve got tough skin, you can talk about every little detail you think I missed in my old age,” Pike grinned.

-_-

Five years later.

              Five years, eight months, and seven days later, to be precise.

              Spock might have been surprised by humans, how could he not? For all the years he lived and worked side by side with them each day he thought he had been able to predict what they would do by now, and he could not. Nor could Spock understand each and every look, game, nor tradition.

              But Spock did feel a connection… Not quite a belonging in the sense of being a part of a set, but a belonging in the sense in that there was no other place he would rather be.

              “Are you ready for the Christmas party? You have to go since you’re the First Officer, gotta set a good example and all that. If you want we can watch a holo later when it’s over,” Jim said, grinning as he danced from side to side. He was wearing a dubbed, ‘ugly Christmas sweater’ that was bright green with a strangely shaped deer and a bright puffball of a red nose. Over that clash of colors and shapes, Jim was draped with sparkling tinsel much like a Christmas tree would be.

              Jim did not wait outside of his door, rather, the moment Spock opened it he wondered in. Any welcome was left unsaid but always in the air. Jim grabbed Spock’s shoulders to turn him so they were facing each other.

              Excitement and amusement filtered through the small connection and rolled over some of Spock’s discomfort.

              “You look ready,” Jim appraised Spock’s outfit and his eyes stopped at Spock’s chest. “You’re wearing the sweater I got you!”

              “It is… logical to wear it to the event you had purchased the item for. Even if, I believe, Nyota might say it is a “questionable fashion choice.””

              It was blue, with the simple and baby blue colored words ‘Happy Holidays.’ and with a respectable period at the end. It was also made of a fine wool, something that was both extremely soft to the touch and kept him warm. A ‘win-win.’

              Spock had already planned out how he would go through the night. After some stimulating conversations with some of his science officers to discuss the new lab work, and learning more about the engineering projects Lieutenant Scott was pushing through, he could relax and play his lyre, no doubt that Nyota would be happy to duet with him…

              And then, perhaps, a holo at the end of the night. If Jim would not be too tired. 

              Spock hadn’t felt the isolation or confusion he had when he first arrived at Starfleet, nor the several years afterward. There was no hollow sorrow, no concern or worry of doing something wrong, no… No cold and debilitating frost growing through him.

              And though something might have not changed, for he still was told about his inhuman straightforwardness, ‘emotionless’ responses, strange particularities, or sayings and games that he learned and never understood, he knew he felt different from before. Even those memories’ stab of loneliness had dulled over time. Any of those previous differences were not a project, an obstacle, they were just Spock.

              “You wound me,” Jim feigned, falling backward in a mock faint before coming back with his bright smile, “now, come on. I know they’re excited to see you… and nice choice, bringing your lyre… Oh, this is going to be perfect .”

              Not perfect. But so close, it might as well be.

              “Lead the way, Jim.”