Starfleet Academy: The Edge

by Rudy Josephs

Had he come to the observation deck hoping to find me? Why in the world would he be seeking me out? Good thing Vulcans weren’t telepathic. Not exactly. They needed to make physical contact to share a person’s thoughts. She’d be mortified if he knew how much she hoped that he was there to see her.

  He was towering over her before she’d even realized it. “Cadet Uhura, I require your assistance with a delicate matter.”

  There weren’t many other sentences a Vulcan could utter that would pique her interest more. Uhura put her PADD into sleep mode and sat it on the ledge beside her. “You certainly know how to get a girl’s attention.”

  “What I am about to discuss with you cannot be repeated outside this room.”

  “This is getting a little cloak-and-dagger.”

  “I do not understand the reference,” Spock admitted.

  Spock was a refreshing change. Most of the guys Uhura knew were so full of bravado that they’d never admit to not knowing something. They’d just play along with her until they figured out what she was talking about or they moved on to another subject. Spock didn’t play those games. She doubted that any Vulcan did, really.

  “Cloak-and-dagger,” Uhura repeated. “A reference to spy stories about secret meetings and clandestine activities.”

  “In that case, it is an apt metaphor for what we are about to discuss,” Spock said. “I had to receive approval before I could brief you on this matter.”

  “For someone who doesn’t know the meaning of cloak-and-dagger, you’ve certainly got the gist of it.” Uhura rose off the ledge so they could be more at eye level.

  Spock suddenly looked uncomfortable. “I regret to inform you that one of your classmates, Cadet Jackson, has recently passed.”

  “I heard,” Uhura replied solemnly.

  “You have?” Spock said, “the administration is convening a special assembly to announce the news within the hour.”

  “Well, it’s good they’re going to talk about it,” she said. “But everyone knows. You can’t keep something like that quiet. Why would they even try? It sounds like it was a random thing.”

  “That has yet to be determined,” Spock said. He fell into the tale of the strange circumstances surrounding Cadet Jackson’s death, segueing into Andros’s mysterious illness the day before. He wove a story that Uhura wouldn’t have believed if she hadn’t witnessed part of it herself.

  She listened with rapt attention, never imagining that anyone would go to such extremes to get through the Academy. Then again, she could understand the stress of wanting to succeed. She felt that same pressure every day.

  Spock detailed his role in the investigation, concluding with, “My interaction with Thanas was less than satisfactory.”

  “He’s a hard guy to know,” Uhura said.

  “Yes, but my concern is that if I am to assist Captain Warde in this investigation, I may need to improve my interpersonal skills,” Spock said.

  “I don’t see much need for improvement,” Uhura said. She was often annoyed by the human tendency to expect alien beings to change their behavior to fit in on Earth rather than humans changing their expectations of others. Granted, speaking with Spock in class could be a bit intimidating, but it wasn’t anything he did intentionally that caused that. It was more the insecurities she brought to the conversation. Insecurities that she didn’t feel with most other aliens she’d met. She certainly had no insecurities dealing with Thanas.

  “I would prefer not to hinder the investigation any further by creating a divisive atmosphere among the cadets,” he said. “And for that, I’ve been granted permission to request your assistance.”

  “With the investigation?” Uhura asked. She doubted the administration would want a first-year cadet involved in something this big.

  “In part,” Spock said. “Captain Warde claimed to be a proponent of what humans term ‘thinking outside the box.’ What I proposed would certainly fit that category.”

  “Which is?”

  “You possess exceptional communication skills. I would like your assistance in developing a more casual conversational style,” Spock said. “Something that would make my questioning of cadets more productive.”

  “You want me to teach you how to have a conversation?”

  “Before the assembly, if possible,” Spock said, as if he were asking her to help him memorize a list of spelling words, as opposed to training him to be . . . what? She didn’t even know.

  “That’s less than an hour,” Uhura reminded him. “I can’t help you with something like that so quickly.”

  “I have watched you interact with the other students in class,” Spock said. “Your ease of conversational skills is something that I hope to acquire. It is a skill that humans excel at. You, in particular.”

  “Thank you.” She was kind of reeling from the admission. She tried not to make a big deal out of either piece of information. To him, she said, “But I can’t teach you how to be human in an hour.”

  “I am already half-human,” he explained. “It is only a matter of tapping into whatever skills may have been passed to me through my mother’s genes.”

  “Didn’t take you for the nature side of the nature versus nurture debate,” she said. “You know, considering how Vulcans are trained to suppress their natural emotions.” Uhura hadn’t realized that he was only part Vulcan. She’d never had a reason to question it, really. But still, she knew that he had been raised on Vulcan. Studied Vulcan ways almost exclusively. Far as she could tell, what he was asking was impossible in the time frame he needed it.

  “I would appreciate it if we could still make the attempt,” he said. “If you are agreeable.”

  “Oh, I’m fine with it,” Uhura assured him. “But I hope there’s a Plan B.”

  “Certainly. Captain Warde has given me permission to invite you into the investigation,” Spock said. “I believe she said that I could ‘deputize you’ onto the team.”

  “Deputize me?”

  “I believe it is an old Earth saying that refers to bringing a civilian into an active role in a police action.”

  This brought a smile to Uhura’s lips. She knew the phrase. She just never thought she’d hear a Vulcan—or a half-Vulcan—say something like that. She didn’t need convincing. She’d known since the moment he asked her that she would help him out. But that last part sold her on the idea.

  For the next half hour Uhura walked Spock through a basic introduction to small talk. She modeled her discussion on his lecture style of teaching in Interspecies Protocols. Unfortunately, she didn’t have as much luck with him as she was having in his class.

  “That’s not right,” Uhura said gently after a third attempt at small talk. She knew that she didn’t have to worry about hurting Spock’s feelings, but she couldn’t help but be overly polite. He was older than her, far more mature. But in some ways his naivety about human customs was almost childlike in an endearing way.

  Of course, Uhura shuddered to think of the mistakes she would make on Vulcan. She certainly knew some humans more prone to emotional outbursts than herself, but she rarely saw the point in hiding her feelings. A few months earlier a bar fight had broken out over her. Sure, that wasn’t due to her lack of emotional control, but she still felt that she could have handled the situation better.

  “I figured out what we’re doing wrong,” Uhura said. “I’m trying to teach you how to ask the questions. I should be teaching you how to answer them.”

  “I can see the value in such an approach,” Spock said. “Proceed.”

  Uhura smiled. Dealing with a Vulcan was so much more direct than the games she was used to playing with other guys. “The thing about pumping people for information is that you wind up telling them more than you want to in the hope of getting them to reveal what you want to know.”

  “An interesting conundrum.”

  “That’s where small talk can be useful,” Uhura said. “You need to create a conversation that seems to be about nothing, when it’s real
ly about everything. It’s all about lulling your subject into their comfort zone. Especially if the topic is uncomfortable.”

  “How do I find my subject’s comfort zone?” Spock asked. She saw him mentally taking notes of everything she said.

  “You let them provide it for you,” she said. “Let’s do a little role-playing. You’re the subject of my investigation. I need to get some information from you without having you realize what I’m after.”

  “That should make for an interesting lesson,” Spock said.

  Uhura walked to the doorway, then turned back, pretending as if she’d walked into the room. It was a needless pantomime, but it made her feel more like the part she was playing. “Hello, Spock.”

  He gave a curt nod. “Cadet Uhura.”

  “Always so formal. You can call me Nyota when we’re not in class.”

  Spock tilted his head slightly while he selected his response. “Command structure dictates that we refer to ourselves formally while on duty.” His performance was a bit wooden, but then again, so were many of his actions. Uhura didn’t criticize. She just played along.

  “What duty? It’s just the two of us,” she said. “You know, I don’t think I even know your first name.”

  “I do not use my given name on Earth,” Spock said. “It is unpronounceable to most humans.”

  She placed a hand on his as it rested on the ledge by the window. “Try me,” she said. “I am studying Xenolinquistics.”

  “I would prefer not,” he said, slipping his hand out from under hers.

  “But I like a challenge,” she said. “How else am I supposed to learn?”

  “Be that as it may, I find that it makes humans uncomfortable to use it,” Spock explained. “They become needlessly embarrassed when they cannot pronounce it.”

  “Hmmm . . . but your mother’s human,” she pointed out. “Did she use your first name?”

  “She could manage it, with difficulty. Usually, she would simply call me Spock,” he replied.

  “Must have been hard, growing up with a human mother on Vulcan.”

  “It had certain challenges,” Spock replied.

  “Is that why you’re studying here on Earth?”

  “The reasons for my decision to attend Starfleet Academy are complicated. I had been put into a position where I felt obliged to reject my acceptance into the Vulcan Science Academy.”

  Uhura’s eyes lit with interest. “You turned down the Science Academy? I never heard of a Vulcan doing that.”

  “I was the first.”

  “Fascinating,” she said, letting the word choice sink in. She’d heard him say that word several times in class. “Your dad was okay with that?”

  “He was . . . disappointed with my decision.”

  She nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “Our relationship has been challenged by my actions.”

  “I’m sure he’s proud of your accomplishments here.”

  “Pride is not a Vulcan trait.”

  “All parents feel pride,” she said. “Even the ones who control their emotions. You can tell.”

  “I assure you—”

  Her hand found his again. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me your name?”

  “Positive.”

  Uhura’s lips broke into a grin as her body relaxed, ending their role-playing. “How was that?”

  Spock pulled his hand back again. “I fail to see what was accomplished. You did not obtain my name.”

  “I didn’t want your name,” she said. “I wanted information on your relationship with your parents. You can’t tell me that’s something you normally open up to people about.”

  “That is correct,” he said. “But I fail to see how that will assist me in my interview with Thanas.”

  “No, I don’t think you’re quite there yet,” she said.

  “I also noted that you were quite adept at using techniques that would be considered flirtatious,” Spock said. “That is not a situation I can replicate with Thanas and expect the same type of results.”

  “I wasn’t being flirty.”

  “I believe you were,” he said. “Touching my hand. The way your eyes locked with mine. The emphasis you placed on certain words. In my time on Earth I have observed those methods of women attracting male suitors.”

  “That’s—That’s—I think you’ve misunderstood.” But maybe he hadn’t. Had she been flirting with him?

  “Perhaps you can employ those techniques in speaking with Thanas,” Spock suggested.

  “You want me to talk to him?”

  “I think it is clear that I will not be a suitable interviewer in the necessary time frame.” Spock moved toward the door. “We are going to be late to the assembly. Will you assist me in the investigation?”

  Uhura joined him by the door. “It could be fun.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “But don’t think I’ve given up on learning your name.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her touch. She pulled her hand away quickly.

  She was flirting with him.

  “What’s this special assembly about?” Kirk asked as he ran into McCoy coming out of the medical building. They fell into step together on the concrete walkway that ran along the perimeter of campus.

  “Probably getting around to telling us about Cadet Jackson’s death,” McCoy replied.

  “Ship’s kind of sailed on that one,” Kirk said. “I figure the only cadets who don’t know about him yet are the ones off planet.”

  “I can think of a few reasons why they might want to get us all in one place to talk about this,” McCoy said. “Especially in light of Cadet Andros’s situation.”

  “Is she talking?”

  McCoy shook his head. “Still sedated. But I’ve been doing some research into the problem, and may have found something.”

  Kirk checked around to make sure no one was in earshot. The walkway was crowded with cadets heading for the assembly hall, but none of them were close enough to overhear. “Thought you didn’t want to talk about this on campus.”

  “Don’t much matter now,” McCoy said. “Think they probably want the word to get out.”

  Something in McCoy’s tone warned Kirk that there was even more to the story he’d told the day before. “What have you heard?”

  Now McCoy fell into a whisper. Maybe he wasn’t ready for everything to get out after all. “Rumors, mostly. ’Bout some clinic in the city that will help cadets get through training. I dug into it last night while you were out on the town.”

  “Everyone’s heard those stories,” Kirk replied. “Caffeine injections to help stay awake. Ridiculous vitamin regimes for extra energy. In some cases, steroids. All urban legends. Nothing but lies to tell the incoming cadets, like there’s a secret pool at the top of the admin building. None of it’s real. The drug screening takes care of all those things.”

  “This is different,” McCoy said. “The kind of thing that screening processes would miss. Like we almost missed the surgery on Jackson.”

  “What kinds of things?” Kirk asked. “Who’s doing it?”

  “Still trying to figure it all out,” McCoy said.

  “Did you tell the captain heading the investigation?”

  “Warde?” McCoy said. “Not until I have something concrete. Don’t want to go throwing them into some wild goose chase if it does turn out to be a rumor. Want to help me look into it?”

  Kirk paused before the entered the building. Too many ears inside to overhear them. “Seems that’s the administration’s job, not ours.”

  “What cadet is going to talk about this to the administration?”

  “There is an honor code,” Kirk said. “I’ve heard some people actually follow it.” He didn’t have much love for honor codes or excessive rules. Kirk believed in the old school idea of personal freedom, so long as you didn’t hurt anyone. But these cadets were hurting themselves.

  “Not the ones who would consider illegal surgical procedures to cheat their way through th
e Academy,” McCoy said. “Don’t think they believe in codes and honor.”

  “You’ve got a point,” Kirk said. “Still not interested, though. I’ve got enough trouble trying to keep up with my classes. Don’t need to go around solving mysteries to take up my time.”

  “You mean your time with Cadet Lynne,” McCoy said with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did your date go last night?”

  “Ah, Monica.” Kirk thought back to the night before. “Let’s just say we had so much fun, it was almost criminal.”

  McCoy smacked him on the arm. “Don’t think I need to hear any more.”

  “Good,” Kirk said. “Because I’m not telling.”

  There really wasn’t anything to tell. The truth was that Kirk didn’t have much experience in the dating arena. Sure, he had experience with the opposite sex, but “dating” was a whole other thing. He’d never been big on relationships. Or friendships for that matter. Kirk spent a lot of time on his own back home. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to share his feelings about Monica with anyone yet—not even with McCoy.

  “Speaking of Cadet Lynne,” McCoy said. “I mean, Monica. Here comes your beloved.”

  “Knock it off,” Kirk replied, as he turned around.

  “I get that we need an assembly and all,” Lynne said, “but I wish they wouldn’t cut into my study time for it. I’ve got a test this afternoon.”

  “We think it’s about Jackson,” Kirk said quickly, so she didn’t go on about her studies, considering the subject matter.

  “Well, in that case, I guess we should get in there,” she replied.

  All conversation on several topics ceased as the trio went into the assembly hall. They were early, so it was barely half-filled. Even so, Thanas was waving a hand in their direction. Kirk couldn’t figure out why he was trying to get their attention. It wasn’t like they were friends.

  Kirk ignored him, pointing to the other side of the room. “Plenty of seats over there.”

  “You really don’t like Thanas, do you?” Lynne asked. She and McCoy stood inside the entryway, not yet following Kirk to the seats he’d pointed out.

  “It’s not that I don’t like him,” Kirk said. “It’s that I don’t even care that he exists.” If only that were true, but the annoyance Kirk felt toward Thanas took up way more of his thoughts than he wished it would. There was just something about him that set Kirk’s nerves on edge.