#chekovxoc

[a-subpar-star-trek-fanfic-blog]

Of Legacies and Logic -Chapter 2

Cadets were given a week to settle into their dorms, figure out their schedules, and make new friends. Lizzie was lucky; Jim had decided to join Starfleet with her, and they’d already made a new friend, Leonard McCoy (who Jim very quickly began calling ‘Bones’). Over the course of that settling period, she got to know her roommate, a second year cadet named Claire Simmons, who was, unfortunately, not the type of person Lizzie got along with. She was smart, going out for sciences as well, but she was mean, spoiled, snotty and cruel. Or at least, that’s what Lizzie’s first impression of her was.

“She’s insane guys, absolutely nuts!” Lizzie complained the first day, sitting at a dinner table with McCoy and Jim. Cora was having a lesson with some Commander or another, leaving the three to eat alone. Lizzie held a PADD in front of her, with an email from her roommate open on the screen. “She set rules, which is understandable, since we’re cohabiting for the next 2 to 3 years but you need to hear this shit! ‘If I am studying, and you aren’t in the room, you’re staying outside.’ ‘Though the Academy doesn’t have a curfew, our room does; Be in the room by 10 or sleep somewhere else.’ ‘Keep your items at least 6 inches from the line that separates the middle of the room.’ ‘Don’t sleep with my boyfriend?!’ Who does she think I am?!”

“Let me see that,” McCoy reached across the table and continued to read off the list. “‘Music off at 8:00pm,’ ‘Don’t talk to me unless it’s important,’ ‘If you go to a party and have sex, get high or get drunk, don’t come back that night,’ ‘No boys in the room after 10,’ ‘If you snore, wear a nose strip,’ ‘If I’m asleep, don’t come in.’ She’s got a sink schedule...”

Lizzie groaned and let her head slam down onto the table. Jim took the PADD next, “‘If you fail a test, sleep in the hall, because I won’t share my room with a failure,’ holy shit.”

“The first thing she did when I introduced myself was demand what I thought I was doing, going for Sciences. She said that someone from Iowa can’t possibly be smart enough to pass my classes.”

“What does she think you’re good for, then?” McCoy asked, pushing the food on his plate around absently.

“Apparently, I’m only good enough for security because, and I quote, you don’t need many brains for that.”

“You don’t think she’ll actually lock you out, do you?”

“I wouldn’t put it past her, honestly.”

“Don’t worry, Liz!” Jim reached over and tugged on a lock of Lizzie’s hair, which hung loosely around her head today. “If she does, you can stay with me and Bones.”

By the end of the first week, Lizzie had already had to spend 3 nights with Jim and Bones, each time being Jim’s own fault. He’d taken the ‘make new friends’ thing too seriously, and dragged Lizzie to every party he found himself invited to. Claire did not seem surprised that Lizzie couldn’t abide by her rules, but Lizzie had already decided that she was going to pass all her classes whilst breaking most of Claire’s rules, just to shove it in the other girl’s face.

“Listen,” she told her, on the last night, pushing her glasses up her nose, “Classes start tomorrow, so no Jim.”

Lizzie only grumbled in response, having already planned to spend the night reading the first few chapters of her textbooks. In the morning, she was out the door before Claire had even woken up, stopping on the way to her first class to get coffee. When she got there, Uhura was sitting on a bench outside the classroom. With a grin, Lizzie joined her.

“Morning, Uhura! Hope your week was pleasant.” She and Uhura had talked on the shuttle ride to the Academy, and became good friends.

“It was alright,” Uhura glanced up from her textbook, “How was yours?”

“About the same, I suppose.”

“You’re taking linguistics courses? I thought you wanted to go into Sciences? Counseling, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It’s easier to talk to people if you understand their language,” Lizzie murmured, opening her own textbook, “Besides, I like to learn as much as possible.”

“Well, the Commander is a fantastic teacher,” Uhura replied, a pretty blush lighting her cheeks. Lizzie grinned.

“Miss Uhura, crushing on the teacher? How very high-school of you!”

“Bet you’ll like him too,” Uhura muttered. Lizzie snickered and took a sip of her coffee. The girls lapsed into comfortable silence as they waited for the Commander to arrive. They became so engrossed in their reading that neither of them noticed him until his shiny standard-issue Starfleet boots were right in front of them.

“Cadets, you’re early.” The voice that spoke was calm and even, if not a tad surprised. Lizzie’s eyes lifted from the words of her text and looked up into pools of chocolate brown. They held a human quality that didn’t match the Vulcan ears, the green tinged skin or the blank face of the man they belonged to. He was tall, tall enough that he towered over Lizzie, (although that wasn’t too surprising; Lizzie was only 5’2, even Uhura dwarfed her) and it gave off the distinct impression that he was looking down his nose at her. Still, he was undeniably one of the most handsome men she’d ever met.

Uhura stood quickly, snapping her book closed.

“Good morning, Commander Spock!” She greeted. He glanced over at her, and the smallest of smiles lit his face.

“The same to you, Cadet Uhura. And you, Cadet...” Spock trailed off, not knowing Lizzie’s name.

“Danvers, sir,” Lizzie stood as well, though she took her time. He trailed his eyes down her form, not in a creepy way, but in a way that made Lizzie feel like she was being assessed.

“Ah, yes, Cadet Danvers,” Recognition lit his eyes up, “Cora speaks fondly of you during our lessons. You are a first year cadet, are you not?”

“Yes, sir, technically,” Lizzie replied, remembering how Cora had mentioned lessons with a Vulcan Commander, “I understand your class is for second years, but I tested out of all the first year classes.”

His eyes trailed over her again, making Lizzie blush a bit. “Fascinating,” was all he said, and then he turned to enter the classroom. Uhura was smirking at Lizzie.

“I told you.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s not like he’ll go for either one of us, so...Let’s make a friendly wager, Lizzie; May the best woman win?” Uhura held out a hand to shake.

“But only if we can stay friends, and no playing dirty!” Lizzie warned, pointing a finger at Uhura’s face. Uhura shrugged.

“Reasonable enough.” They shook hands, grinning, before following their instructor into class.

Weeks passed in the blink of an eye, the tedium of school work making the days melt together into an incomprehensible blur.

Lizzie spent much of her time with her nose stuck in her text book, something Jim was more than used to, yet couldn’t stand. He spent hours trying to convince her that she needed to relax. But Lizzie had four classes with Commander Spock, and the Vulcan had a habit of quizzing his students at the beginning of every class. She quite simply could not afford to slack off. She currently sat with Jim in a coffee shop just off campus, studying her linguistics notes.

“You aren’t the type to go to school dances, Jim,” Lizzie mumbled, eyes darting between her notes and her PADD. “And isn’t Starfleet a bit too proper for a dance, anyways?”

The Academy was hosting a party/dance type of deal in the main cafeteria for staff and students, and Jim was dying to go.

“Come on, Liz,” Jim begged, “It’s a Halloween party! We love Halloween!”

“Liar, you hate Halloween,” Lizzie put her pen down and turned to Jim, “Who are you trying to sleep with?”

A grin lit up his face. “There’s this professor-”

“A Professor? Jim!”

“It’s not a problem! I checked! Regulations state that relations between cadets and staff are only prohibited if the cadet is a student of the staff member. Which means I’m in the clear. If I recall, it’s you trying to jump your professor,” a smirk formed on Jim’s plump lips, “Your bet with Miss Uhura, remember?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, “I’m not even trying,” she admitted, “I may be humoring Uhura, but passing my classes is more important than some bet.”

Jim snorted and lay his head down on the table.

“Cora has to go,” Jim mumbled, Lizzie hummed gently in response. Cora’s teachers kept giving her random assignments like going to dances or joining a club in an endeavor to help her understand humanity. Cora seemed to be incredibly shy, always taking Jim or Lizzie or McCoy with her to support her.

“Make Bones go with her.”

“He’s going to be in Georgia for the weekend. His ex is letting him take Joanna trick-or-treating.”

Lizzie smiled at that. McCoy loved his daughter more than he loved anything, it was good to hear that he was seeing her.

“Come on, beautiful! There’s no costumes. They’re letting us wear civies.”

Lizzie perked up at this. They didn’t often get to abandon their uniforms. Lizzie craved the feeling of comfortable, starch-free clothes. With an annoyed groan and a roll of her eyes, she nodded.

“Fine!”

Jim raised his hand in victory. “I knew you’d come around!” He settled back down, smiling at her. “So, who is the teacher you and Uhura are trying to get with?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Nobody, Jim.”

“I have never worn a dress before,” Cora admitted. Jim was sprawled on the floor, eating candy corn and (to Lizzie’s immense surprise) studying for a midterm he had on Monday morning, not even acknowledging the fact that Cora was only in undergarments in front of him. Lizzie lay back on Cora’s bed, already dressed in a skater dress, reading a magazine she’d stolen from Claire without the other girl noticing. Her heels were abandoned on the floor.

“Wearing a dress is similar to wearing a uniform skirt, but if you choose carefully, they’re far more comfortable. I brought you one I thought you’d like.”

“Is this what they call a gift?” Cora wondered, holding the dress up in front of her. It was black tulle, dotted with sequins that reminded Cora distinctly of the stars in space. She loved it. Lizzie knew she would.

“Yeah,” Lizzie confirmed, “but you can’t always assume it’s a gift when someone let’s you borrow something, alright?”

Cora’s head bobbed in a nod, “Okay.” She threw the dress on quickly, letting Lizzie put her hair in a loose knot at the back of her head.

“Let’s get this over with,” she muttered, “We’ve got exams to study for.”

Jim heaved himself up and brushed invisible dust off of his light gray shirt. “You’re going to pass, Lizzie.”

“Leonard thinks you should purposely fail a test so that you can report Cadet Simmons for misconduct.” Cora said, locking his dorm behind them.

“Not an option,” Lizzie replied, shuddering at the thought of failing Commander Spock’s next test. The man was ruthless; you failed a test, he’d give you one opportunity to remake it, but if you failed again you were out of the class altogether. In his Advanced Mathematics class, he didn’t even let you retake the test.

Cora shrugged, and struck up a conversation with Jim about a class they shared, Flight Strategics 101. The conversation stopped abruptly when they approached the Main Cafeteria doors. Music could be heard pumping through the wood, and Lizzie could see the fake spiderwebs and the black, purple and green balloons through the windows. Cora looked mildly terrified of entering the room.

“Hey,” Lizzie reached down and took her hand, “It’s alright, Cora.”

“I’ve never been to a party before...” Cora breathed. Lizzie smiled and squeezed Cora’s hand gently.

“But you’ve been to the bar. This is no different. Jim is going to walk in there, he’s going to get drunk and flirt with anything that moves, and we’re going to make fun of him when he strikes out.”

A tiny smile lit Cora’s face. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, sure,” Jim muttered, “by all means, be entertained at my expense.”

“Alright,” Cora announced, after a few moments of silence, “Let’s do this.”

Jim and Lizzie each pushed open a door, and instantly the classical song, ‘Thriller’ filled their ears.

The room had been completely transformed. The replicators along the walls were all covered by the cheesy Halloween decorations, hiding them almost entirely from sight.  Someone had managed to make a dance floor in the center of the room by pushing all the tables and chairs against the far wall.

“Great music choice,” Jim said, and strode into the room. He took Cora by the hand and dragged her to the center of the room where people were dancing. “Let me show you how to do one of the most iconic dances in history!”

Lizzie smiled fondly and sat herself at one of the tables pushed up against the walls, pulling out her PADD and notebook to study (she’d promised Jim she’d go to the stupid party, and she did. She never said she wouldn’t study). She hummed to the songs she knew, foot tapping in tune to the music, as her eyes scanned math equation after math equation.

“Cadet Danvers, ” Lizzie glanced up briefly to see who had spoken to her. Commander Spock was in uniform, looking more out of place than usual surrounded by a crowd of people in civis.

“Good evening, Commander,” Lizzie murmured, returning her eyes to her studies. “Please, sit.”

Spock did, though he was stiff in the hard plastic seat. His dark, intelligent eyes observed her as she worked out an equation in the margins of her notes.

“You’re studying?” There was that surprised tone again.

“Yes, sir,” She double checked her answer before looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “Why are you surprised by that?”

“I was under the impression that humans have functions such as this to have fun. I was also...led to believe that you don’t study, and that you wouldn’t pass your midterm examinations next week.”

“Led to believe by whom, if I may?”

“Your roommate, Cadet Simmons. I came over here with the intent to urge you to study, as you’re a surprising delight to have in class. It seems the effort was unnecessary.”

Lizzie looked up in slight alarm, “Does she say things like that often?”

“Quite. Though, admittedly, I do not believe I was meant to hear the conversation. She was speaking with her friends, however-”

“Vulcans have exceptionally good hearing,” Lizzie finished, frowning deeply, “yes, I know.”

Spock paused. Elizabeth Danvers’ face was like an open book to him, “I’ve upset you. This was not my intention.”

“No,” Lizzie muttered, sounding distant. She shook her head as though clearing it, and gave the Commander a tight smile, “No, no, I’m sorry. Of course not, Commander. I’m sorry.”

“It is I who owes you an apology, Cadet,” Spock insisted, “It was illogical to allow someone else’s words to color my opinion of you, especially when your grades in my own classes suggest you are in good academic standing.”

“It’s fine, Commander,” Lizzie assured. Under her breath, she added, “Cowardly blonde shittalker.”

There was a lull in conversation, as Spock watched her work diligently on the assignment he’d given his Advanced Mathematics class. He noticed she’d made a mistake, and opened his mouth to correct her, when she erased the work and started over. The second time around she’d remedied her mistake.

“What branch of the Sciences Division do you plan to go into, Cadet?” Spock wondered, eyes still watching her work.

“I was going to try for Counselor,” Lizzie replied, “However, it’s logical to cultivate multiple options.”

Spock’s eyes flashed to her face in mild surprise; he’d said the same thing to the High Council when they found out he applied to Starfleet.

“Yes, it certainly is,” his voice was soft, unheard over the music pumping through the cafeteria. Louder, he asked, “For what reason do you wish to become Counselor?”

Lizzie’s face twisted into a grimace, “Because I want to prove to myself that Counselors can be useful.”

“Counselors and psychiatrists are very useful, Cadet.” A derisive snort was Lizzie’s response. “You disagree?”

“First Officer Georgina Elizabeth Danvers,” Lizzie said, placing her pencil down and looking Spock full in the face. Spock blinked, the name striking a familiar chord in him. “A planet had reached the end of it’s lifespan, and she was ordered to help evacuate the locals. She refused to leave the planet until every last person was saved.”

“It is statistically impossible that every life on a planet can be beamed onto a starship in a limited amount of-” Spock cut himself off at the look on Lizzie’s face. Eyebrow raised, lips in a tight line, and eyes dull, Lizzie had clearly heard the statistics before. “I see.”

“I was eight years old. My father sent me to nine psychiatrists.”

“Nine?”

“None of them helped,” Lizzie admitted openly. “The only thing that helped was my best friend. He was in a similar position, and he was better to talk to, anyways. So like I said, I want to prove to myself that Counselors can be useful.”

“I see,” Spock repeated. Again, they lapsed into comfortable silence. Spock’s eyes drifted from his student to the dance floor, where Cora was dancing in the center with a young blond cadet with blue eyes and a mischievous grin on his face. Cora was dancing badly, but the cadet didn’t seem to mind, clearly inebriated, judging by the flask in his hand. Spock then looked to a couple to the side, not so much dancing as copulating on the dance floor. “I do not understand the point of such shows of public physical affection.”

“Hmm?” Lizzie looked up at Spock, mildly confused, before following his line of sight. Cadet Cupcake and an equally stocky female cadet were grinding to the beat of the music. She barked a laugh. “Neither do I. It’s a kind of power trip thing, maybe? As long as nobody tries to dance with Cora like that, I don’t care.”

Spock’s eyes returned to Cora.

“She’s becoming very comfortable with being in large crowds. It’s a remarkable improvement from last year. I believe you are responsible for that, Cadet?”

“Cora is the one that deserves the credit, Commander, though your assignments in ‘Human Interaction’ are quite helpful. What do you plan on teaching her next?”

“Admiral Dawes is the one that requests these...assignments,” Spock admitted. “Next he wishes to delve into romance. I am hesitant to introduce the topic into our sessions.”

An amused snort made Spock look back at Lizzie. She was grinning widely.

“Pardon me, Cadet, but what is amusing?”

“Starship on a date, Commander? Unheard of.”

“Cora is unique, most things are unheard of in relation to her.”

“Fair enough,” Lizzie conceded. There was a clatter, and both looked over at the dance floor. Cora’s dance partner had knocked over a tray of treats, Cora laughing heartily above his fallen form. Lizzie sighed and gathered her materials. “That’s my cue to leave, I’m afraid. By the way, I find the most direct way to broach a topic is to just say it outright. Cora won’t react too badly, I assure you.” Adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder, she smiled at Spock. “Have a good evening, Commander. I’ll see you in class, sir.”

“I am looking forward to it,” Spock told her.

And he was.

[rssspockuhura]

Fate of us All

Warning: Some M/M works might show up here because the Spock/Uhura tag is used in ref to S/U as a side pairing, past pairing, etc. Solution. Read at your own risk.

Author: Selenahaileen Star Trek: 2009 English, Rated: T Hurt/Comfort/Friendship Characters: J. Kirk, P. Chekov, John Harrison/Khan, OC Chapters: 7, Words: 28,611, Reviews: 3, Rated: T, In-Progress

Haileen refused to admit that she was falling for her best friend. Selena tried to cope with the 23rd century. Starting with the destruction of Valeritas, a forgotten colony of Earth, and the awakening of Selena after 300 years of cryogenic sleep. What will happen when they both join Starfleet Academy? Input valued. JimxOC, ChekovxOC via FanFiction.Net: Star Trek: 2009, Last Updated https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11936494/1/Fate-of-us-All Remember to check out the Spuhura fanworks community on livejournal. Follow rssspockuhura for Spock/Uhura fanworks from around the web.

[a-subpar-star-trek-fanfic-blog]

Of Legacies and Logic- Chapter 1

Cora decided early on that she quite liked Christopher Pike. He was patient when teaching her to speak, and he was kind to her, even though she knew her creation made him slightly uncomfortable. He seemed to realize she had feelings, and treating her like a machine would be a mistake. So he taught her how to speak with the patience of a man who knew what it was like speaking with a child.

Cora quickly picked up speaking, and so Pike (his first lesson had been that people were often unnerved to be referred to as their full name at all times) decided to start taking her places with him. He took her on recruiting trips and he took her to meetings, where she would wander around the building waiting for him to finish speaking with his superiors. It was on these outings with Pike where she began to learn how to interact with humans.

Tonight she was sitting with Pike in a small bar in Iowa. They were there on a reprieve from the academy, and Pike wanted to take the opportunity to recruit the bartender, an 18 year old by the name of Elizabeth Danvers. Elizabeth Danvers was what Pike called ‘A pretty little girl’. Her hair was a soft brown. It was pulled up into a knot at the back of her skull, a milkmaid braid crowning her head. A few loose pieces framed her face. Her eyes were also brown, but they sparkled with life. Her pale neck and collarbone were dappled with glitter, and they blazed like stars in the black light of the bar.

It wasn't hard to get the girl’s attention, but it was hard to keep it, Cora noticed. Elizabeth was being kept busy by the red sea of Starfleet cadets and recruits that had flooded the bar that night. Not to mention, there was a very pretty man seated at the bar, and he kept dragging Elizabeth into conversation. The grin she would flash him was bright and familiar; the type of grin Cora’s technicians would give her after each new update or reconfiguration. The young man’s outrageously blue eyes stayed trained respectfully on Elizabeth’s whenever she spoke to him. Clearly, Elizabeth and the man knew each other well.

“I’ll be back in a moment, Cora,” Pike stood from the stool he had been sat on and straightened the shirt of his off-duty uniform, gave his charge a smile, and turned to walk into the crowd. Over his shoulder, he called, “See if you can get Danvers’ attention, try and talk to her.”

“Yes, Captain.”

And then he had vanished into the mob of cadets. Cora turned back to watching Elizabeth and the pretty man interact. After a moment of calculation, Cora got to her feet and made her way over. If she could not get Elizabeth to come to her, she would go to Elizabeth. She slid into the seat next to the pretty man with a smile already plastered on her lips.

The man’s eyes went to Cora instantly, eyeing her outfit choice of a sweater and jeans  with mild interest, but it took Elizabeth a bit longer to notice her arrival.

“Oh, shit, I forgot all about you and your friend. I’m sorry!” Elizabeth leaned on the bar with an apologetic smile, “What’s your poison? It's on the house.”

“Sorry, poison?” Cora tilted her head to the side.

The pretty man chuckled and leaned towards Cora as though he were telling her a secret. “She wants to know what you want to drink.”

Unperturbed by the stranger’s closeness, Cora brought her hand to her mouth in thought. “I've never had a drink before. What’s good?”

“Well-”

“Jim!” Elizabeth hit the man on the shoulder, causing him to smirk at her. “Don't even think about finishing that sentence!”

“What? I was just being polite!”

“Oh, yeah, so polite,” Elizabeth grumbled, grabbing a rag and cleaning the countertop, “James T. Kirk, God’s Gift to All Creation.”

Cora stiffened up, eyes widening as she recognized the name. “James T. Kirk?” She repeated, voice holding a sort of soft reverence that had the odd companions looking at her oddly, “The son of George Kirk?”

Jim gave a groan and a roll of the eyes, but he nodded, nonetheless.

“That's me. Lizzie, get me something strong.”

Elizabeth, who appeared to prefer Lizzie, quirked and eyebrow and pulled out a glass bottle of amber colored alcohol and a tumbler of ice out from under the bar top, pouring Jim a drink and sliding it towards him. She leaned her weight on the bar again and looked at Cora intently.

“His father is a touchy subject,” she informed. Cora nodded.

“Yes,” she agreed. Then she remembered her lessons with Pike and quickly added an, “I'm sorry.”

“Whatever,” Jim downed his drink faster than Lizzie had taken to pour it. “Lizzie, another.”

Lizzie obliged, pouring without looking.

“You're with Starfleet, right?” At Cora’s nod, Lizzie continued, “You're not a student, are you? Only ‘cuz, you're not in uniform like the rest.” She gestured to the crowd of cadets.

“I am a student, but I take every opportunity I can get not to wear that uniform.” She rubbed her arm, the material of her soft grey sweater rubbing against her skin pleasantly. “It irritates my Derma-Matter.”

There was a pause, then another loud groan from Jim.

“Oh, great!”

“Derma....” Lizzie's eyes fell to the thin silver chain around Cora’s neck, which held a pointed, light rose colored crystal that seemed to glow and pulse if you looked hard enough. Lizzie straightened quickly, her mustard yellow mini skirt swaying around her thighs with the movement. Her voice rose in her excitement, “Hey, wait! I recognize you! You’re the Core of the Enter-”

“Shush!” Cora practically leapt across the bar to cover Lizzie's mouth. “How did you know that?

They haven't released the details of my existence yet.”

“She reads my mail,” Jim grumbled, and decided to snatch the bottle of scotch from behind the counter. “Admiral Dawes wanted to keep my mother and I informed about ‘the miracle my father’s death brought about.’ Too bad we stopped caring a long time ago. No offense kid. I know you're his legacy and everything.”

Lizzie took his hand in both of hers and smiled at him. Jim gave her a tiny smirk in return.

“Excuse me,” a kind voice interrupted, before Cora could open her mouth to correct him. The group turned to see a beautiful cadet with dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin standing on Cora’s other side. She was looking at a brightly colored drinks menu.

“What can I get you?” Lizzie asked, taking Jim’s bottle away. He pouted a bit, and propped his head up on his hand to watch the newcomer.

“Can I get a Klabnian Fire Tea, three Budweiser Classics, two Cardassian Sunrises and...” She flipped the menu to read for more, but frowned, unable to decide.

Lizzie, who was writing down the order, glanced up at her, pen poised at the ready, “Try the Slusho, it's good.”

“And the Slusho Mix, thank you.” The cadet smiled.

“That's a lot of drinks for one woman!” Jim observed. The cadet turned to see who had spoken, but saw only Cora. Jim leaned forward, and the woman rolled her eyes in realization. She turned back to Lizzie, who had been flagged by someone down the bar.

“And a shot of Jack, straight up.”

“Make that two, her shot’s on me.” Jim called out.

“No, her shot’s on her.” Lizzie replied, snatching the glass from Jim’s fingers and putting it in the sink as she passed to make the cadet’s drinks. “You’re cut off. Sorry, miss, can I get your name so I can call you when your order is up?”

“Uhura,” the cadet replied easily.

“Oh, Uhura, what a coincidence! That’s what I was calling you in my head!” Jim smirked, Uhura rolled her eyes again. “Uhura what?”

“Just Uhura,” she sighed, patience already wearing thin.

“What, they don't have last names where you come from?”

Cora, who had been with Pike when he recruited Uhura, replied, “Uhura is her last name.”

Jim didn't skip a single beat. “So, so they don't have first names where you come from?”

Uhura snorted and started walking away, to a spot down the bar, but Jim followed after her with an easy grin. “Come on, you're a cadet, you're studying, what’s your focus?”

“Xenolinguistics.” She replied, then looked up at Jim with a smirk, “And you have no idea what that means.”

“It's the study of alien languages,” Jim rose to the challenge. “Morphology, phonology, syntax. It means you have a talented tongue.”

Cora leaned in towards Lizzie, who was standing at the mixer, putting together the Slusho. “Is this what they call flirting?”

Lizzie glanced up at Cora, then shot her eyes to Jim and Uhura. A fond smirk lit up her face. “If you want to call it that, sure.”

“I'm impressed,” Uhura spoke, “Here I thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals.”

“Well, not only...” Jim teased back.

As Uhura laughed openly at the joke, another cadet slid up behind Jim.

“This townie isn’t bothering you, is he?”

“Oh, beyond belief,” Uhura replied with a grin, “but it's nothing I can’t handle.”

“You can handle me, that’s an invitation,” Jim replied, and Uhura rolled her eyes.

“Hey! You better mind your manners!” The cadet roared, and grabbed Jim by the shoulder to turn him around.

“Oh, relax, Cupcake, it was a joke.” Jim patted the cadet roughly on the shoulder.

“Jim,” Lizzie’s voice held a warning edge. Jim glanced over at her, shrugged, and turned toward Cora next. The cadet was quite simply not having any of that. As Jim opened his mouth to continue their conversation from before Uhura came over, the cadet spun him around again.

“Hey Farmboy! Maybe you can't count, but there are four of us and only one of you.”

“So get some more guys, and maybe it will be an even fight.” He patted the cadet on the face gently and went to turn away once more. Cora saw the cadet’s arm come back, and her hands came to her mouth with a call of, “James, watch out!” just before the fist slammed into Jim’s face.

He was sent sprawling onto the bar top with a groan. Glass had shattered under his weight, Cora was amazed he wasn't more injured.

“Guys, stop it!” Uhura cried.

Jim straightened quickly, and advanced on the cadet with a glare on his face. Cora, having never witnessed a fight involving fists in real life, cried out when Jim slammed his foot into the cadet’s abdomen and sent him flying, and he turned to tackle another. She reached for the communicator at her waist, as Jim was thrown off of the cadet, and into Uhura. His hands, which he’d thrown out to catch himself, landed on the woman’s chest. She shrieked and shoved him off.

“Captain Pike, there’s a situation in the bar! I don’t know what to do! I haven’t had to handle this before! Please help!”

Lizzie jumped over the bar as Cora chattered into the device, and grabbed a cadet by the hair, kicking his feet out from under him and slamming him face first into the ground. Her surprise attack earned Jim enough time to get back on his feet, but he was disoriented and drunk, so he was quickly taken back down by the remaining two cadets. Lizzie gave a shout and tried to get them away from Jim, but she was caught in the jaw by a stray elbow, knocking her back.

Jim noticed and spat curses and blood at his opponents, but that was all he could do with the big, meaty fist continuously slamming into his face.

“He’s had enough,” Uhura was shouting, trying to end the carnage, as she helped pull Lizzie to her feet, “Stop! Enough!”

Lizzie broke away from Uhura and reached behind the bar, pulling out an ancient shotgun. As she pumped a shell into the chamber and aimed it at the cadet hitting Jim, a sharp whistle cut through the shouting.

Every single cadet fell silent and still, and Cora let out a loud breath of relief, at the sight of Christopher Pike standing in the doorway.

“Outside,” he ordered, “all of you.” When nobody moved, he shouted, “Now!”

“Yes, sir!” Someone cried, and the sea of red was rushing out the door. Lizzie slumped against the bar, shotgun falling down, harmlessly, to her side.

“Danvers,” a hard voice spoke, and Lizzie looked up to see her boss standing there, stone faced and red, “My office, now.”

Without a word, she hung her head and followed him away.

“You know, I couldn't believe it when Cora told me who you are,” Pike mused, glancing up when the shouting from the owner’s office escalated. Jim glanced over as well, shoulders tense and battered face full of guilt. Cora sat next to him, and he was letting her clean him up without much fuss.

“And who am I, Captain Pike?” Jim grumbled, draining the last dregs of a beer.

“Your father’s son.”

Jim paused, then lifted the glass towards Cora, “Get me another?”

Cora stood without a word and crossed to the abandoned bar, still listening in to the conversation.

“For my dissertation I was assigned the USS Kelvin. Something I admired about your dad, he didn’t believe in no-win scenarios.”

“He sure learned his lesson,” Jim grumbled, pulling the bloody napkins out of his nose with a sniff. Cora returned to his side and handed him his beer as she sat.

“Depends on your view of winning. You’re here, aren’t you? And an invention like Cora would never have existed without the destruction of the Kelvin.” Pike paused as the commotion from the office was silenced, and Lizzie exited with puffy red eyes and wet cheeks. She headed to the bar without a word to begin gathering her personal belongings. He turned his eyes back to Jim “You know that instinct to leap without looking, that was his nature, too, and in my opinion, it’s something Starfleet’s lost.”

“Why are you talking to me, man? Lizzie is the genius who deserves to be recruited, talk to her.”

“I will,” pike promised, “but I looked up your file while you were drooling on the floor. Your aptitude tests are off the charts, too, higher than Elizabeth’s, so what is is? You like being the only genius level repeat offender in the midwest?”

“Maybe I love it,” Jim replied, and was met with a sharp slap upside the head. He looked up to see Lizzie glaring down at him.

“You’re being an insufferable brat,” she told him. “Your dad died, and I know how that makes you feel. You can settle for a less-than-ordinary-life, but I’m done. We’ve always known we’re destined for something greater.”

“Enlist in Starfleet,” Pike urged. Jim outright laughed.

“Enlist? You guys must be way down on your recruiting quota for the month.”

“If you’re half the man your father was, Jim, than Starfleet could use you. You can be an Officer in four years, you can have your own ship in eight. You understand what the Federation is, don’t you? It’s important. It’s a peacekeeping and humanitarian Armada-”

“Are we done?” Jim demanded. Pike nodded with a sigh.

“I’m done,” he stood up, towering over Jim, Lizzie and Cora, “Riverside Shipyard. Shuttle for new recruits leaves tomorrow, 0800.”

Jim rose his glass, indicating he understood.

“Now,” Pike took one last look at Jim, “your father was the Captain of a starship for 12 minutes. He saved 800 lives, including your mother’s. And yours. I dare you to do better. Cora?”

“I’ll be at the shuttle at 0800,” Cora promised, “I would like to show James something.”

Pike gave a short nod, and left the trio without another word. Convincing Jim was up to Cora now. After a few moments of tense silence, Lizzie sighed.

“I was fired.”

“I know,” Jim replied immediately, guilty once more, “If you want to keep working here, I can talk to your boss. Not that he’d want to talk to me, but still-”

“Don’t bother, Jim,” Lizzie placed a gentle kiss on Jim’s cheek. “I’m getting on that shuttle in the morning. The only thing left for me here is you. I want my best friend with me for this new chapter in my life, but, Jim, if you don’t enlist, that can’t happen.” Jim frowned and looked away, and Lizzie sighed again and pulled away, “I love you, Jim, and I need you, but if you stay here, I won’t let you hold me back.”

As she left, Jim stared forlornly after her. When he could no longer see Lizzie’s back, he looked over at Cora, locking eyes with her. “And then there were two. What did you want to show me, doll?”

By the time Jim had sobered up enough to drive, dawn was breaking. Cora had directed him to a hill that overlooked the shipyard, where a starship was being erected.

“Great. A starship. Whoo-hoo.” Jim sat on the grass with Cora and stared at the lights illuminating the frame. “What’s so special about that ship?”

Cora pulled her knees up to her chest and smiled softly. “I am that ship. That ship can be fully evacuated, even with autopilot disabled, because I can stay behind and fly it. I was created to keep a tragedy like the Kelvin from ever happening again.”

“And people are so sure you’ll follow through?” Jim scoffed, “Why would you care?”

Cora sighed and pointed towards the ship. “See those welders?”

“Yeah?” Jim replied, because he did; Three welders were working on the dish of the starship. It seemed like too small an amount, if you asked Jim, but it was early, so whatever.

“They’re here.” She pressed her hand to her right shoulder. “I can feel the heat from the torches, the weight of their boots as they walk. I feel what the ship feels, Jim. In three years I will feel the hundreds of lives residing on the Enterprise,” Jim was staring at Cora, now, an awed look on his face, as she looked at the ship with slightly sad eyes. “How do you think I’ll feel if all those lives were snuffed out?” She looked back at him, “Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it.” They sat in silence for a while, watching the welders working on the ship. Their torches lit up like tiny suns against the barely there sunrise. “You think I should Join Starfleet?” Jim’s voice was soft, trying not to break their quiet bubble. Cora hummed in thought.

“I think that I’m your father’s legacy, James,” she stood and began walking down the hill, towards the shipyard entrance, “but so are you.”

[a-subpar-star-trek-fanfic-blog]

Of Legacies and Logic - Intro

Cora’s first memory was hearing someone tell her she was special. Revolutionary. She carried the capabilities to save a lot of lives. An incident like the Kelvin would never occur again.

Her programming and the development of the  Derma-Matter she was made of began shortly after the Kelvin’s destruction. The idea was born from a stupid suggestion by an angry Science Officer who had survived the tragedy.

“What is the point of our men and women dying needlessly. We can create a sentient ship, one that can pilot itself, even with autopilot disabled. A ship that can man itself.”

The man was nearly laughed out of the council he had summoned. They told him it was foolish, to have a starship that was self-sufficient. It would make Starfleet obsolete, and there was no point in that.

A childless Officer, who had worked for Starfleet for many years now, devoting his life to his work in the lab, and research at home, stood up for the man.

“A starship is still a machine,” he said, “and machines break. Starfleet will never be obsolete. What this man presents is not a finished product, but a rough idea that barely scrapes the surface. However, he may be right in thinking that we need to prevent a tragedy such as this from happening ever again. Would a sentient ship not be determined or feel obligated to save the lives of the crew within her?”

This got the council thinking, and eventually, they came to an agreement. They would attempt to bring this idea to life, secretly, in the basements of the Starfleet academy.

The scientists tasked with bringing this thought of a sentient ship with feelings to life were then faced with a problem. They did not have the capabilities to program any of the active Starships with sentience, and any attempts made to do so led to the ship malfunctioning. With a new problem came a new solution. Program a whole ship with the sentience as it is being built. The scientists ran tests using small shuttles, and were ecstatic to see that the program worked; it effectively desensitized the shuttles to the program.

Another problem, though; the sentient shuttles were smart, but they did not feel. The blatant disregard of human life was apparent when one shuttle, whilst on a test run, unbuckled it’s pilot and dumped the man out, several storeys to his death. The childless man spent all night thinking, writing a formula, and thinking some more. Finally, he looked to his colleagues and announced his newest idea.

“I’ve come up with a formula for what I call Derma-Matter. In essence, it is programmable flesh. As I said before we began this adventure, a starship is a machine. It is not capable of human emotions. However, what if we create a vessel, a sort-of avatar, fully capable of every human thought, and emotion, everything a human can do, the vessel will be able to do. If we program the starship and the Derma-Matter at the same time, with the same program, it should work.”

“But how,” a young scientist questioned, “will we keep them connected? If we go about the Derma-Matter idea, we’ll simply have two beings with the same programming.”

The man had an answer for the young scientist.

“Dilithium.” He said, “Dilithium crystals are what make starships run. If we take a bit of the Dilithium from a ship that’s being built, it will serve as a connection between the Derma-Matter and the core of the ship thereby connecting them. We simply need to find a way to keep the Derma-Matter and the ship connected by the Dilithium whilst the programming process is occurring.”

Within a year, they had their first successful test. The shuttle they tested, with Derma-Matter vessel resembling an infant, flew like a charm, and even prevented itself from going into an oncoming collision while it’s rider was occupied with the infant.

Cora’s first memory came in the year 2255. The first thing her eyes noticed was that everything was bright. The second was that there was loud beeping all around her, as well as hurried talking.

“Admiral Dawes, she’s finally awake. Derma-Matter heart is stable, all organs appear to be functioning normally, brainwaves reading as they should.”

“Good. Dismissed, all of you. I’ll take care of the rest myself.”

A rather ancient, weathered face appeared above her, blocking out the lights. His expression was thoughtful, but excited. He was mumbling to himself, as his cheerful blue eyes scanned over her face.

“Dark blonde hair, lovely, hazel eyes. A pretty, elfish face. Excellent bone structure-” he cut himself off, and finally addressed her, “My dear, my name is Admiral Archibald Dawes. Can you sit up?”

She tried, but she could not. Admiral Archibald Dawes nodded, helped her sit up on the bed, and jotted something down on the PADD in his hand. “To be expected. Can you speak?”

She tilted her head, blinked, and opened her mouth, “Can you speak?” 

“Vocal functions operating properly,” he wrote some more. "We call you Cora. Do you know why? There’s a very special reason.”

She, now named, “Cora,” tilted her head in the opposite direction. Admiral Archibald Dawes smiled, crossed to a curtain, and pulled it away.

Cora’s eyes widened greatly. Outside, a massive structure of steel was being erected. The lights of the work platform shined with an ethereal glow upon the behemoth frame.

“We call you Cora, my dear, because you are, in essence, the core of that starship. If all goes according to plan, as long as the programming is right, you can save a lot of lives.” He let the curtain fall shut, and the awe dropped from Cora’s face when the ship was gone. He crossed to one of the many beeping machines, reading what it said, and writing it down. He began mumbling again, Cora wasn’t exactly sure if she was meant to hear him, “Oh, you’re revolutionary, my child. The first ever fully man-made human being, not a speck of machinery in you. The starship won’t be completed for years, yet.

“That means I’ve got years to continue to improve your programming, and the Derma-Matter. We’ll have to teach someone from the crew how to create you in the event that you end up destroyed. Perhaps more than one of you? If the ship gets destroyed, if someone gets stranded, perhaps it will be beneficial to them to have you as support. But how to go about that without crippling the ship? Hmm.” Admiral Archibald Dawes began scribbling furiously on his PADD. He seemed to notice suddenly that Cora could, in fact, hear him, and he gave he a kind smile. “Tomorrow you will start speaking lessons, with Captain Christopher Pike. If all goes according to plan, that man will be the Captain of your starship. It would be smart to get close to him. For now, you should rest.”

He left the room after a few more moments of talking to her gently, shutting the lights off when he exited. As he left he was muttering to himself again, “And- Oh! What if I could find a way to program a takeover into your bit of Dilithium? If you can take over enemy ships it would certainly be ideal.” The room was plunged into darkness when the door shut,  but the beeping continued around Cora. She lay there, on the medical bed, and stared at the ceiling for a long time. Then, slowly, she sat up, placed her feet on the cold stone floor, and crossed to the curtained window. With a sharp tug, the curtain was ripped cleanly from its rod, revealing the beautiful ship once more. Cora dragged a stool over to the window, sat, and stared.  In the morning, this is where Admiral Archibald Dawes found her, sleeping, with her arms crossed on the window sill to pillow her head.