Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek and am not doing this for any kind of profit.

Author's note: Sorry to anybody who was waiting for this story to come out, but as you can see, I have finally had a free moment to write it down. Yay! I hope you enjoy it.

Summary: Everyone knows that in theory Star Fleet is supposed to be non-prejudiced, but when a young Kesarahn 'vampire' joins the Academy with hopes of becoming an officer on the most prestigous star ship, how true will this theory be in practise?

Every day is so wonderful
And suddenly I saw debris
Now and then I get insecure
From all the pain, I'm so ashamed

A few weeks after receiving an offer for a place at Star Fleet Academy, Spock stood alone at the main Vulcan shuttle centre waiting for the ride that would take him to Earth at long last. At his feet stood one solitary suitcase filled with the few personal possessions that he was authorized to take with him. Once he got there, he would be supplied with a uniform and be shown to the quarters that he would stay in. That was all that he had been told in the letter, and the mystery made the whole transition from Vulcan to San Francisco more exciting and inevitably more daunting.

Sarek had refused to accompany him to the station and had made it crystal clear that he did not support Spock’s choice at all. Although Sarek dealt regularly with Star Fleet as Ambassador to Vulcan, he did not necessarily share their beliefs. His father believed in the Surakian belief that taking life must not be done at all, since life of all kinds was precious. However, Star Fleet upheld the policy that if a Federation life is threatened, it is necessary to kill in order to survive.

The fact that Spock was going to be training to be a science officer did nothing to win over Sarek. It did not matter what profession he claimed he did, he would still be a willing part of what most Vulcans considered to be a military and therefore violent organization. He had also made it known that Spock could accept no sympathy if he was injured in the line of duty, and his father had been graphically vocal about the possibility of death in deep space. He did not see the same appeal in risking his life to explore the unknown that Spock did. The same could be done in other organizations that had a much lower mortality rate.

Sybok, when he had been around, had understood Spock’s decision, for he had had the very same dream during his childhood. If he had not had his visions of Shakaree, he would have joined Star Fleet, but he had insisted that his visions had shown him more possibilities and opportunities in life.

He had become fixated with the idea of paradise, and had come to the conclusion that it was necessary to feel emotion and to denounce logic if paradise were to be found. He had argued that it would be impossible to find true contentment if you did not allow yourself to feel your own emotions; an experience that Vulcan logic denied them. Sybok had insisted that to suppress with logic was to lose the way.

At first, it had just been an idea, a philosophy that he and Spock had regularly discussed and debated, but had soon become more than that. Sybok continued to act like a true Vulcan, and for all intents and purposes appeared as though he would indeed be an appropriate apprentice for the position of Ambassador to Vulcan.

Gradually, he became more vocal about his view, and began to question the laws of Surak. He began publishing academic essays with the help of a fellow revolutionary, and tried to persuade other Vulcans that the emotional way was the only one. Some agreed with him, but he was essentially seen as just another academic who questioned but never actually believed.

Frustrated at his lack of credibility, he had begun doing public talks and speeches both inside and out of his college, until he was forbidden to make speeches in public places and risked expulsion. Not wanting to jeopardize his academic position, he had reluctantly stopped the public appearances, but after a brief reprieve he began holding them privately.

Occasionally there would be rumour of these talks, but they were never actually caught in the act since they kept changing their locations. Not even Spock knew where his brother was in those hours when he disappeared. Eventually, Sarek had caught him in the process of revealing another Vulcan’s innermost pain. This was practically a criminal offense on Vulcan, since a person’s thoughts and secrets were given the utmost respect. It was considered to be a violation of their privacy and dignity to reveal it in public as Sybok had done, even when consent was given.

Sarek had disowned his revolutionary son and Sybok had become an outcast, forced to leave Vulcan, never to return. Nobody could speak of him by law, not even his own close family, but that had not stopped Spock from missing the last living person who had ever understood him.

When he was spoken to, it was with a clinical interest, as though he were some kind of exotic specimen that should be examined closely. Sybok had been one of the very few who did not blame him for the death of Amanda Grayson, nor treat him like a criminal. It had of course been a shock to his system to learn of what Spock had done, but after he had accepted the fact, their relationship had resumed just as it had in the past.

Sybok had been one of the only ones who had any faith in Spock at all, and had fully believed that his younger brother would eventually be able to enter Star Fleet, despite now being a Kesarahn. He had predicted that by the time Spock was of age, reforms would be made by the admiralty to accommodate his race, and he had been right- as always.

Facilities had been installed in replicators to reproduce animal blood for those Kesarahn who did join Star Fleet, and they were now allowed to serve aboard predominantly human star ships, as long as there were trained security personnel aboard. However, all of the cave dwellers who had so far joined the Fleet generally preferred to serve aboard their own ships, and none had served on integrated ones so far. He hoped to be the first.

However, despite the reforms, there were still cases of prejudiced treatment of Kesarahns, even towards those who did not drink blood. The whole planet had become tainted by the knowledge of the cave dwellers, and there were some who were determined to make their lives miserable. Spock had known about this but had resigned himself to a life of scorn and discrimination; he had already experienced it throughout his childhood, having been a half human, and half Vulcan boy.

He had worked hard to join Star Fleet, and not even wild horses could drive him away.

Despite all of his promises to himself, it was with a sense of wary anticipation that he boarded the shuttle that was headed to San Francisco. The shuttle passengers consisted mainly of Vulcans, but there were a few humans and one solitary Andorian who was sitting shyly in the corner.

He received slightly wary looks from the Vulcans, but a few of the humans smiled at him politely, unaware of who he was. He nodded back and took his seat, turning to stare out of the window.

There was a shudder and the seats rattled slightly as they took off and hovered in the air, waiting for the go ahead. Slowly, it started to move forward as the hangar doors opened, and the Vulcan scenery came into view.

There was a long stretch of desert with the occasional mountainous rock formation and oasis which covered the planet surface. Small dots that could have been desert animals prowled in the vast sandy expanses, hunting for food in small holes in the ground or shady spots under rocks. The occasional bird circled overhead looking for dead meat that might have been half buried in any recent sandstorms.

The main city, Shikahr, loomed in front of him, the gates swinging open to allow visitors access. At night they would be closed in order to keep the people in and any nocturnal creatures out.

In the center of the city was the school that he had attended as a child, and he could barely see the small forms of young Vulcan children as they made their way to their classes.

He did not look at his house which lay on the outskirts of the city, and where he knew Sarek was at this very moment. Instead, he turned his back on the window and took out an Academic paper that he was halfway through.

The journey was long and dull despite the reading, and the blood craving increased until he could no longer ignore it. Resisting the smell of blood in the room and the pulses in the necks of the people around him, he made his way to the replicator and ordered his meal.

Walking back to his seat, he noticed the Vulcans look at him with disgust, although it was carefully hidden and only showed from the expression in their eyes. He walked past a human male that had smiled at him earlier, and saw him stiffen the moment he saw the blood, his expression becoming hostile and unfriendly. The Andorian merely watched him with polite interest.

Ignoring all of them, he sat down in his seat and sipped his drink just as they qouls aip a coke. The human’s expression turned to pronounced disgust.

He felt a presence next to him and looked up to see the Andorian woman standing by the seat next to him. “May I join you?” Her voice was soft and friendly, her antennae quivering shyly.

Spock moved his bag off the seat in confirmation and returned to sipping his drink as she sat down. “My name is Thela.”

“I am Spock,” he replied politely, ignoring the glances from the other passengers. They seemed to be concerned for Thela’s safety.

“Are you going to Star Fleet Academy by any chance?” She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him, which was surprising. Most people only spoke to him out of pity or if they needed something.

“Yes. You are also to be a cadet?”

She nodded, relieved that she knew someone else who was going to the same place as her. “It’s my first year.”

“It is mine also.”

“Really? What are you studying?”

“The sciences and officer duties,” he replied.

“I’m doing the exact same thing! Maybe we’ll be in the same classes. Do you know anyone else in the older years at the Academy?”

He shook his head. “Negative.”

She smiled understandingly. “The same for me. I’ve never even been to Earth before- it’s going to be a whole new experience.”

“I am certain that you will soon adapt.”

She nodded. “I hope so. I really don’t want to make a fool of myself on the first day because I’m unfamiliar with the customs.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “There are many other cadets who originate from different planets and cultures. They will not expect everyone to be well versed in the customs of Earth.”

“Well, I hope you’re right. Someone once told me it was the exact opposite.”

“Theoretically that should not be the case.”

“It’ll be an interesting experience either way,” she continued enthusiastically. “I look forward to sightseeing in my free time.”

“You will have ample opportunity over the course of the next few years.”

“I know; I can’t wait. All those monuments, the mountains, the deserts, the oceans…” she sighed. “Hopefully living on Earth will also help me improve my Standard.”

“That is not necessary. You appear to have an extensive knowledge of the language.”

She grimaced in aggravation. “The professors at the Academy don’t seem to think so. I have to take a full course in Standard- as if I knew nothing of the language.”

“That is highly illogical.”

She rolled her eyes in agreement. “I know, but at least I’ll get an extra qualification on my record.”

“A distinct advantage, however it will do little to contribute to your science studies.”

“It might help when it comes to training for landing parties. It always helps to have people who can communicate with each other,” she joked.

“Do you wish to serve aboard a Star Ship?”

Her face became dreamy and he was abruptly reminded of Ettikah. He struggled to force the memories aside. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Indeed. I have observed that Star ships are extremely popular.”

“It’ll be hard to get on one, especially if they’re famous.” She grimaced at the idea of competition. “How about you? Where do you want to work; star ship, outpost, colony?”

“I wish to serve aboard a star ship.”

“We seem to have a lot in common,” she grinned.

“Indeed.” He struggled to keep his thoughts from returning to Kesarah and Ettikah. In an attempt to distract himself, he took a sip of his drink.

“You’re making me thirsty,” she complained. “I’ll be right back.”

She got out of her seat and made a bee line for the replicator. He found himself staring at her, and wondering how she seemed not to care about the fact that he was essentially a vampire. Everyone else on this shuttle either ignored him or gave him frequent wary glances. Some of the humans nearby were whispering about him in frantic voices, seeming to forget that he could hear and understand every word they said.

Thela returned and sat back down, sipped her drink and closed her eyes in a content gesture. He noticed that it was the Andorian version of lemonade. “This is good, but it’s better fresh.” She nodded to his half empty glass. “How’s yours?”

“It is… satisfactory. Does it not concern you that I am consuming blood?”

She shook her head and snorted slightly. “No.”

He nodded in contemplation. “Fascinating.”

“How is it fascinating? You do not mind that I eat meat, I don’t mind that you drink blood.”

His eyebrows rose sharply. “That is hardly an equal comparison.”

“I think it is.”

“Then you’re crazy,” one of the humans behind them snapped.

“You were listening to our conversation?” Spock’s voice and demeanor had turned cool at the threatening tone in the other man’s voice.

“Yes,” the man answered. “Obviously.” He eyed the glass in Spock’s hand with absolute disgust. “I think that you and your kind are revolting.”

“Who are you?” Thela asked, pointedly eyeing him with extreme disapproval.

“Marc Thompson.”

“Well then, Marc Thompson,” Thela said coolly, “I don’t think it’s your place to say who is disgusting and who isn’t. Everyone has different cultures and different biological needs. Just because Spock’s happen to be different to yours does not automatically make him ‘revolting’.”

“Any sane person would think drinking blood is repulsive.”

She raised her eyebrows at him; her face radiating complete and utter anger. “Any ‘sane person’ would back down right now and admit that they’re being bigoted.” She looked him up and down again, and her lip curled. “Obviously, you won’t.”

“Thela…” Spock began, intending to stop what was rapidly becoming a row, but Thompson spoke over him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means,” Thela countered, her tone glacial.

He glared at her, and abruptly changed the direction of conversation. “Why do you defend him? You’ve only just met.”

She rolled her eyes. “I just told you; because you’re too ready to judge him for what he is, without taking into account who he is.”

“I don’t need to know who he is,” Thompson scoffed. “People like him, they’re all the same. They’re little better than animals.”

“You’re beginning to sound little better,” Thela snarled.

“At least I don’t drink the blood of people.”

“I do not consume the blood of people,” Spock finally defended himself, unable to keep a neutral position in the argument anymore.

“Of course you do. Everyone knows that vampires murder people and drink their blood.”

“I am reformed; I consume only the blood of animals.”

“Of course,” Thompson sneered. “I should have known you were the type to prey on innocent beasts.”

“It is necessary for us to survive.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t; maybe your race should just let itself die out.”

One of the stewardesses walked over, interrupting what would have been a furious insult from Thela. “Excuse me, is there a problem?” She directed her question at Thompson, ignoring Spock and Thela completely.

“Yes,” Thompson replied. “Him.”

“He hasn’t done anything!” Thela sputtered.

The attendant ignored her. “What exactly is the problem sir?”

“I don’t want to sit so near him.”

The attendant was beginning to grow impatient. “Why not?”

“He hasn’t done anything!” Thela repeated in outrage.

The woman glared at her frostily. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask that you stay out of this.”

“I don’t want to sit next to that blood drinker!” Thompson exclaimed, raising his voice and causing everyone in the shuttle to turn around curiously.”

“Sir, I assure you; there is no danger…”

Thompson interrupted her. “The hell there isn’t! I refuse to sit next to him!”

“Then you should move,” Thela said acidly.

“No.”

“Then you have a problem,” the attendant said dryly.

“Can’t you move him?” Thompson spoke as though his solution were blindingly obvious.

“He paid for this ticket like everybody else!”

“Ma’am, I will not ask you again.”

Thela rolled her eyes in irritation.

“Well will you move him or not?!” Thompson yelled; thoroughly angry by now and making no attempt to hide it.

The attendant turned to Spock reluctantly. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to move in order to keep the peace.”

“Hang on…” Thela began, but was interrupted.

“Weren’t you told to shut up, Andorian?” Thompson asked smugly.

“You’re acting like a spoiled child,” Thela snapped.

“Ma’am, please. Sir, would you mind moving to that corner?” She pointed to an empty area of the shuttle.

Spock stood up and began gathering his bags, not wanting to cause a commotion. All he had wanted was a quiet journey. To his surprise, Thela gathered up her bags as well and moved into the corner with him.

“See you both at the Academy,” Thompson sneered.

Thela swore under her breath in Andorian. “The great news never ends.”

Spock sat down next to her and placed the bags by his feet. “Obviously the next few years will be an… interesting experience.”

“Damn right,” Thela grumbled. Her antennae quivered in irritation and anger. “He shouldn’t be allowed in Star Fleet. Its members are supposed to be non-prejudiced.”

“That is very rarely the reality.”

She sighed. “We live in crazy times.”

Some time later, Earth loomed up ahead of them and rapidly grew larger. Thela stared transfixed at the swirls of blue and white that made up the atmosphere and covered the land that lay within.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, all the anger of before already forgotten.

Spock nodded in agreement. “The humans are privileged to have a planet so rich in life.”

“I’m glad that they realized before Global warming and World War Three got out of hand.”

“As am I.” His mother would never have been born if the Earth had continued down its destructive route.

There was a shudder as the shuttle landed, and the seats rattled once again. The voice of the pilot came onto the speaker. “Gentle beings, we thank you for flying with us and hope that you have a pleasant stay.”

Slowly, everyone began to file out, but Thompson yanked Spock back so that he almost knocked over Thela, who had been standing behind him. Thompson glared down his nose at him and stalked out of the shuttle, wiping his hands on his jacket as though they were contaminated.

“I hate him already,” Thela hissed.

Together, they climbed out of the shuttle and found themselves in the bustling shuttle craft station of San Francisco. Bewildered, they looked around and saw a sign saying “Star Fleet Academy” on it.

“A whole door just for us,” Thela joked as they strolled through.

They found the shuttle to be already waiting, and climbed swiftly aboard. “Surprisingly efficient,” Spock remarked.

“They definitely don’t waste time here, do they?”

They sat down next to a man with dark hair, blue eyes and a terrified expression. He was clutching the bottom of his seat, and his skin was taught over his bones.

“I wish they wouldn’t be so damned efficient,” he grumbled with a strong southern accent. “These shuttle crafts are death traps. One wrong move and we become the galaxy’s biggest barbecue.”

“Cheery,” Thela muttered.

“These shuttle crafts are perfectly safe,” Spock said, attempting to reassure him.

The man scowled at him. “You won’t be saying that when we’re turning cartwheels and your stomach drops out of your mouth.”

Spock raised an incredulous pair of eyebrows. “The odds for my stomach exiting my body through my mouth are approximately 6471.2 to one.”

The man glared at Spock’s pointed ears. “I knew it,” he whispered to himself miserably. “It’s an expression, I’m a doctor; I know that it’s impossible.”

“A doctor?” Thela asked, instantly interested.

“That’s right. Doctor Leonard McCoy. This is my first year.” He chuckled at her surprised expression. “Let’s just say that I signed up late, miss…”

“Thela,” she supplied. “This is Spock,” she added, before the Vulcan could say so himself.

“Pleased to meet you both,” McCoy said sincerely, reaching out to shake their hands. The shuttle jerked and his hand flew back to the seat. “Damn pilots; never give a man a warning when they’re going on a dangerous journey.”

“This is a routine flight,” Spock reminded him.

“That’s what they all say,” McCoy grumbled darkly.

Thela exchanged a glance with Spock and grinned.

“So what are two young kids like you doing in Star Fleet?” McCoy asked after a few minutes’ silence.

“I want to explore. You know; see the unseen,” Thela explained passionately.

McCoy grinned at her, his perfect white teeth flashing in the dim light. “Well now, that sure sounds poetic.” He turned to Spock. “No wait, don’t tell me. You want to study new scientific theories and new life.”

Spock attempted to keep the surprise off his face and only partially succeeded. “Correct. May I ask how you knew?”

McCoy grimaced. “Let’s just say that I’ve heard a lot of scientists say that to me, and you look like a sciency type.”

“Sciency type?”

McCoy rolled his eyes. “Someone who likes science. Personally, I don’t understand the appeal of working on a bucket of bolts and metal held together with a few screws. It’s a sure fire way of getting yourself killed.”

“Then it is highly illogical of you to seek a career in space, Doctor.”

“I know that,” McCoy replied.

“Then why did you join?” Thela asked, her curiosity piqued.

“My ex-wife,” McCoy growled by way of explanation. “A woman like that can drive anyone into space. She turned the whole planet against me!”

“Surely that is an exaggeration.”

McCoy glared at Spock. “Of course it’s an exaggeration. Although by the frosty feel of things back home; it may as well be true.”

“So Star Fleet is an escape,” Thela deduced, a look of profound sympathy in her eyes.

“That’s right.” The shuttle jerked once more. “I’m beginning to seriously regret it though.”

“If you should regret your decision, you should resign.”

McCoy gazed at Spock as though he had suggested he jump the Grand Canyon. “What, and go back to her?” McCoy snorted. “I prefer this kind of torture any day.”

“Then I fail to see why you feel the need to complain.”

McCoy peered at Spock as though seeing him for the first time. He shook his head in a mixed gesture of exasperation and humour. “I suppose I enjoy complaining.”

“Highly illogical.”

McCoy slumped in his chair. “I can see that this trip is going to be a bundle of laughs.”

Spock’s eyebrows, which had just resumed their normal stance, flew up to his hairline once more. “I do not understand the need for sarcasm, nor do I understand how you expect a laugh to form a bundle.”

McCoy groaned and Thela smothered a giggle inside a cough. “Fascinating.”

“I’m glad you think so,” McCoy replied with little enthusiasm.”

Spock cocked his head to one side. “Then we are in agreement?”

“Yes,” Thela answered, although the question was directed at McCoy.

“Will someone please tell me what I’m supposed to be agreeing with?” McCoy drawled, glancing at both of them in turn.

“That emotional behaviour is fascinating,” Thela supplied.

McCoy grunted noncommittally. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“What other description exists?” Spock asked.

“Do I have to answer?” McCoy retorted in exasperation.

“Yes,” Thela chuckled, grinning wickedly. McCoy gave her an annoyed glare.

“How about damn confusing?” McCoy asked at last.

“Interesting. You are an emotional being, yet you do not understand emotional behaviour.”

“Do you understand all Vulcan behaviour?”

“An interesting question, however I fail to see its relevance.”

“Of course you would,” McCoy drawled.

“I see that you two are getting all cozy with that piece of dirt.”

“Him again,” Thela growled.

“’Me again’.” Thompson smirked.

“You just don’t know when to stop, do you?” Thela asked angrily.

“You two know him?” McCoy asked, eyebrows raised.

“We shared the shuttle from Vulcan,” Spock explained.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘shared’.” Thompson snapped his expression full of loathing. “You weren’t wanted there- you forced yourself into the shuttle.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, fully irritated with this man’s attitude and unwilling now to even attempt to hide it. “I purchased a ticket. The desires of the other shuttle occupants were irrelevant.”

“You think,” Thompson laughed, looking amused at what he saw to be Vulcan stupidity, “that it was irrelevant that we all hated your guts?”

“I don’t hate him,” Thela pointed out angrily.

“You’re an Andorian, you don’t really count,” Thompson sneered, and Thela turned deep blue with anger.

“You’ve got no right to talk to them like that!” McCoy growled, coming instantly to their rescue.

“I don’t see a rule saying I can’t.” He looked McCoy up and down with arrogant judgment. “Who are you anyway?”

“Doctor Leonard McCoy,” he replied, stressing the title.

“A witch doctor? You think that gives you the authority to tell me what to do?”

“Someone has to tell people like you when to stop.”

Thompson laughed. “I don’t even have to listen to you.”

“Then you are extremely unwise,” Spock interjected.

“I wasn’t talking to you, leech. This doesn’t concern you.”

“That is an extremely immature method of insult.”

Thompson grimaced at him. “You wouldn’t know; your kind wouldn’t know mature if it kicked you in the face.”

“I don’t want to rain on your bigoted parade, cadet, but in case you hadn’t noticed; Vulcans are the most mature race in the known galaxy.” McCoy was red in the face with anger by now.

Thompson threw back his head and laughed raucously. “God, ‘Vulcans’? You really are stupider than you look!” He began walking away, chuckling. “You wouldn’t see the truth if it bit you in the neck.”

“You couldn’t find his brain if it was wearing a ten foot pole and he came with a map to his head,” McCoy muttered under his breath.

“An interesting metaphor.” Luckily, the Doctor had apparently ignored the comment about the ‘truth’.

McCoy inclined his head in a mock bow and grinned. “I like to be creative. So who was he?”

“Marc Thompson,” Thela replied, hatred dripping from her voice as though it were tangible. “I think he’s in our year.”

“The fun never ends,” McCoy groaned.

“It hasn’t even begun yet,” Thela added darkly.

“Do you know what subjects that goon is taking? Hopefully he’ll be far away from us.”

“No,” Thela and Spock said regretfully.

“Well, it looks like we’ll find out soon.” The Doctor pointed out of the window, and they had their first view of Star Fleet Academy.

Surrounded by grass and various bodies of water, the building rose majestically out of the Earth as though it had always existed there, yet conveyed a distinct impression of newness. The windows all glinted in the sunlight like glass diamonds, and students bustled around the grounds in their red uniform, creating a living pattern that was constantly on the go.

Public transport continuously ferried new cadets to the various entrance halls before scuttling out of sight once more and leaving them to their destinies. From the shuttle, all three future cadets had a perfect view of where they would soon live; and the first impression had been fantastic.

Once the shuttle landed, the first year cadets nervously followed those of older years through the front doors and into the main hall. One by one their names were called out and they were given a map of the campus and told where their cabins were. Uniforms had already been sent to their rooms.

“Spock?” A plump professor was standing beside a table, upon which dozens of data pads vied for space.

“I am Spock.”

The teacher squinted at his file, looking confused. “How do you pronounce that surname of yours?”

“It is unpronounceable to humans, sir. If necessary, it is acceptable to call me ‘Grayson’; my mother’s maiden name.”

“No, there’s another Grayson on the list. I’ll call you Spock to avoid confusion if that’s alright with you?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

The teacher didn’t even look up as he gave him a map and a timetable. “Your room is here,” he pointed. “You’ll be sharing with Marc Thompson.”

Spock’s eyebrows drew together in confusion and slight alarm. “I was informed that I would have private quarters.”

“Everyone shares, or there aren’t enough rooms to go around.”

“In that event, is it possible to share with a Kesarahn?”

The professor shook his head, apparently irritated that this discussion was taking so long and that a large queue was forming behind the cadet. “There are no new Kesarahn cadets this year. We can’t move you in with an older Kesarahn cadet because everyone stays with their own year group. It promotes socializing and teamwork.”

“I do not believe that you understand, sir.” To his dismay, the teacher continued to look blank. “My… condition is mentioned in my file.”

A look of dawning comprehension finally appeared on the professor’s face. “You’re the one who was worried about harming fellow students.”

Spock winced inwardly at the professor’s bluntness, but outwardly showed no reaction. “Yes.”

“Not to worry, I’m sure your room mate can defend himself.”

“I respectfully maintain that a change of quarters is necessary.”

“There’s nothing I can do; we have no spares.” It was clear that the man did not understand at all.

“I see.”

The professor beamed, clearly under the impression that the incident was resolved and that everybody would be satisfied. “Good. Move along please.” He glanced at the list and then into the queue. “McCoy?”

As Doctor McCoy walked forwards, Spock marched out the room, now officially dismissed.