So this is my second Star Trek story. Cardinal Rule is still going so do not worry. Rating is subject to change.

I am looking for a Beta for this story. Anyone interested PM me.

"I have to admit Spock; this project that you are presenting is quite ambitious for one of your stature." An older Vulcan with graying hair and a weathered face, looked up from the device in his hands to stare at the student across from him.

Spock steadied his shields, not giving into his temptation to say something about the comment. Though there was no elaboration on what his "stature" meant, he understood what the professor of the Vulcan Science Academy was referring to. It was something Spock had gotten used to over the years. Although his culture lectured about the IDIC, Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, the people as a whole on Vulcan still viewed themselves superior to many other species whether it be for lack of emotional control or lack of intellectual levels compared to a Vulcan. Spock's mother was not Vulcan and therefore he was lesser than, even disadvantaged, when compared to his full Vulcan peers. They always expected him to fail, intellectually or emotionally. Always watching and waiting. His failures or faults would always be contributed to his mother's heritage and was to be expected of him while his successes were hollow as if he should not be capable, or what he had achieved was a pure anomaly, and he would be unable to do it again. His successes were always downplayed to no real importance.

When he managed to be accepted into the VSA, he had the failed logic to think he would be able to change the opinion of his peers. The VSA was the most prestigious institution on the entire planet, where only the best were accepted, and he had applied with the top scores in both his schooling and the entrance exam for his year. Upon his interview and acceptance, his interviewers had brought up once again that he was not one of them when they had said they were impressed that he managed to get into the institution despite his disadvantage. He had had a strong inclination to tell them that he did not wish to be a part of their establishment, but he reigned in that impulse and slammed his shields around it, keeping it under lock and key. He politely accepted their invitation. And when he started to attend his classes, he was treated the same as he had been before he attended VSA. Even though he had proved he was just as capable as his peers, nothing had changed.

Professor Sorik was assigned as Spock's adviser when he had been admitted, and Spock had heard the whispers of how unfortunate Sorik was to have such a student to tarnish his reputation. Sorik himself seemed indifferent to the situation. Though small derogatory comments still slipped out from time to time, it lacked the conviction behind them which made Spock internally grateful. He could have ended up with Professor Stark who made it clear that he believed Spock did not belong at the VSA as Spock was not truly Vulcan.

While Spock did have a strong affinity for math and science, he had a small hobby dealing with the social and cultural customs of other alien species. 301 years ago, Vulcan had surveyed the Sol system and found an inhabited planet of a primitive species. They called themselves humans. They were violent and very emotional, and had yet to achieve warp capabilities. They had not even launched their first person into space at the time. So Vulcan had kept an eye on the planet, monitoring them for when they were ready for first contact. Not much was known about the humans past keeping an eye on their air space, but currently there had been signs of the humans being close to breaking warp one. Now there was a large debate on whether the humans were mature enough to handle first contact and new studies were being made from afar. On one side, the argument was that humans were still swayed by their emotions leaving them volatile and a large probability that they would not take knowing they were not alone in the universe well and were not ready to take the step. On the other side, there had been many races who had embraced their emotions and were very good trade partners and assets to the Vulcan society. No decision had been reached for lack of data and unfortunately, majority of the population were siding with the former argument.

"I will have to bring this to the High Council for permission to allow this level of technology into the hands of the humans." Sorik said, handing the PADD back to Spock that contained the details of Spock's proposal. "I do find it curious that you have chosen this as your senior project, Spock. This project is not related to your current study of astrophysics."

"The current political development of whether we should establish first contact with Terra has presented a perfect opportunity. It would be illogical to pass up this chance."

"Indeed, the opportunity is a great one; however, this project will take two years to prepare and possibly several years of monitoring to follow. Are you willing to put your astrophysics research on hiatus for that long?"

"Yes, I am quite certain. If the council and the academic board approve my proposal, I respectively request for you to be the project head, Professor Sorik. As department head of the anthropology department, you would be the most logical choice with your experience with studying new cultures."

Professor Sorik lips twitched up. It was only for a moment before it was gone. Whatever Spock had said apparently amused him enough for the professor's controls to slip. "I will have to decline your offer. I believe it would be more prudent for you to overlook all aspects of this project. It is your idea, and it appears you have everything planned out. What would be most logical is for you to oversee this project."

Spock pushed down the urge to fidget. "I must respectfully decline the offer."

"Is it because you have no wish to lead your own project or because you wish not to have our people know that you designed and put together this project in fear of criticism and your work being undervalued."

"Fear is illogical." Spock responded. It sounded automatic even to his own ears.

"Yet you do not deny it." The professor sat straighter in his chair, staring intently at the youth before him. "I am not unaware of our people's prejudice against you. Your work is often undermined and many of the projects you have led have found difficulties in receiving grant money and resources. Even under such disadvantages, your research has proved invaluable. This is the condition I am setting for putting your proposal forward." Sorik leaned forward. A curious tactic to make one seem more imposing, Spock thought absentmindedly. The action must have been a remnant of habits Sorik had picked up in his travels. It was almost impossible to not pick up some alien customs when surrounded by them for half a century.

"Very well. I accept the position. When might I expect the council's decision?" the young Vulcan resigned himself. He had been . . . confident that Sorik would accept the position. It was the only reason he had brought the proposal forward at all. He tended to keep his hobby to himself as it would reflect poorly on him due to his heritage. It could not be helped now however.

"I expect them to respond in two point five eight days. The decision will be forwarded to your PADD. If there are any additional questions, we will contact you through your Comm."

Spock stood, gathering his bag before giving the customary parting. Sorik did the same, heading to the High Council's chamber immediately. Rarely, did professors go in person to deliver requests. Normally, the requests were sent electronically, and it took two to three weeks for the request to be looked over and voted on.

When Sorik stated that Spock would receive a response so quickly, his hopes for the project sank. For it to be processed so quickly would indicate that his professor did not believe his project would be seriously discussed and picked up. It did make him curious as to why Sorik would deliver the request personally if he believed it would be rejected though.

The harsh Vulcan sun greeted him over head as well as the encompassing heat the moment he moved away from the building's entrance. He descended the stone steps. His eyes searched until they landed on a woman wrapped up in neutral colored robes and scarves to protect her from the summer sun.

As if she sensed him, she turned to greet him, a lovely smile on her full pink lips complimenting her delicate cream colored skin. "Spock," she greeted, her voice full of quiet affection. Her eyes were playful and loving, wrinkles at the corners showing her true age while the rest of her seemed timeless. That expression she saved just for him. "How did the meeting go?"

"Mother, you should not have strained yourself to intercept me. The temperature is not optimal for your physiology." Somehow he managed to mask his concern at the angry red flush of his mother's skin from the heat. "The maximum temperature today is estimated to be 322.038 Kelvin today."

"I will be alright for a short time Spock." She waved her hand to dismiss his worry as if it was misplaced. "I took a hypo before I left the house. I just could not restrain myself. You promised to tell me about your project right after your meeting." The excitement in her voice was hard to miss no matter how hard she tried to suppress it in public.

Knowing he would not win the argument, Spock conceded to his mother's whims. She had been patient until now. "I am fascinated with the prospect of studying the natives on Terra. Based on what we know of them, they have similar physiology to your species, Mother. I am curious to see if the social and cultural aspects of Terrans have evolved similarly to your own species. "

"Yes, I am aware," she raised an eyebrow. "But that does not explain anything about your project."

Spock nodded. "We have extracted holos, transmissions, and other resources to learn about the Terran culture, but we have yet to interact with them as a species. It has proved difficult to learn of them first hand without exposing that we are not Terran ourselves. Then I recalled your favorite past time as a child."

Recognition lit up in the woman's eyes. "Video games?"

"Indeed. I remembered that through this media you were able to socialize with others, form connections, and it was your favorite recreation without the need to meet in person. Through the holos we have received, humans seem to also enjoy such past times. After conducting 21.4 hours of research, I have discovered that in the past there was one particular game that had over 20 million users at the time ranging many different ages, ethnicities, and beliefs.

"Humans have made plans to create a system where the consciousness can dive into "the game". They have entertained such ideas for centuries creating books, movies, and even other games of it. I plan to introduce an old version of the Dreamer technology, modified to suit the projects needs, to the humans introducing my own game. We can monitor the Terrans' behavior, interactions, and culture without directly engaging them."

His mother stared at him, her brown eyes opened wide in disbelief, her mouth slightly opened. "You are going to make a video game?" She said slowly, before her mouth turned into a grin.

"They are similar to simulations in my understanding of them. I have created many simulations at the academy."

His mother laughed, a melodious sound to Spock's ears that put him at ease usually. This time, Spock tensed wondering what he said that was so amusing for the second time today. "Spock, you are aware that video games are meant to be used for recreational purposes and enjoyment, correct? While it is true video games are created like a simulator, most of the time, it is created without any realism attached."

"I . . . do not quite understand, Mother." Spock admitted, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"Video games can be used to live through the past and the future, but they are also used to bring the imagination to life: magic, mythical creatures, impossible abilities that you can only dream of, being lived and played through by the player; that is the essence of games. It is more than a simulation. It has story, music, feelings." The woman stopped, looking thoughtful. "Then again, perhaps humans do not use games the way my people do."

"I believe you might be on to something," he said quietly, thinking back onto his research. "I did not quite comprehend what they were describing in the documentary, but your explanation seems quite similar."

"You're going to need a team to make this work aren't you?"

"Affirmative. I will need to find someone willing to pretend to be human to introduce the Dreamer into the Terran society and market the game, a team of analysts to monitor the game, conversations and activity, a team to update the game and ensure hackers do not find out its origins, and a team to make the game."

"Do you think they will allow a few friends of mine to make the game?" Spock's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline at the suggestion. "What? It sounds like fun, and I think the game will be more successful if you have a species that actually played video games to work on it."

"Your suggestion has merit. I would still like to be heavily involved in the creation."

"Of course. It is your project dear."

Spock took his mother to a quiet café nestled in the cliffs a half a mile away from home, so she could hydrate herself and get ready for the rest of the trek back home. They spoke in quiet voices, talking in more detail about the project. He was entertaining hopes that his project would indeed go through, and his mother's enthusiasm was encouraging. She was excited. She had always supported anything he put his mind to, but this was the first time she was so actively involved and so animated over just the prospect of his idea. He wanted it to go through, just to make her proud as illogical as the feeling was.

Just as Spock stood, giving the money for the drinks and snacks to the owner, his PADD buzzed in his bag indicating a message. With a quirked eyebrow, he pulled out the device, scanning his messages.

"What is it, Spock?" His mother asked when Spock stood quietly for several minutes.

"It seems that my proposal has just finished being reviewed by the council." Surprise slipped into his tone. He could not even bring himself to reprimand his lack of control. It was almost unheard of for any request to be processed so quickly.

"And?" She prompted.

"I am to report to the academy tomorrow to select my teams."

Jim looked at his letter one last time before looking at the building before him. Was this really going to be his home for the next three years? The grounds were trimmed perfectly, the surrounding area clean of trash, with a beautiful view of the golden gate bridge. The main building was three stories high, perfectly white, with all the latest technology, and the guards on the outside were serious, but still friendly as they greeted him as he entered.

The inside was just as clean. Just beyond the entrance was the welcome desk who directed him to the apartment he would be staying in, informing him that all his things were moved in and unpacked. The halls were quiet with gray doors evenly spaced throughout. He was handed a pile of schedules, paperwork, and manuals he would be forced to read and sign before his first day started next week, and he barely had a chance to glance at his new place before being dragged out to see the program head, Captain Pike. He did have enough time to notice he would in fact have a roommate. He had frowned at that. He was under the impression he would not have to share quarters with anyone during his stay.

Still, it was a nice place to live even after being dragged to a small cramped office to meet with the captain. It wasn't like his old life was doing him any favors, and it definitely wasn't as luxurious as this.

He had already managed to speed read through half of the first manual when Pike entered. Bright blue eyes looked up, followed by a cocky grin. "Geez Chris, if you had me wait any longer, I might have actually finished the pile of homework you loaded onto me before classes start."

"That's Captain Pike to you now. You're not that genius level offender anymore. You're an officer." The captain's eyes twinkled with amusement, making his way over to the overly plush office chair. "I take it the move wasn't too stressful."

The young man shrugged, closing the manual and putting it in his bag. "Not really, but I was under the impression that I wouldn't have a roommate. What's up with that by the way?"

"I didn't know you were looking at being a candidate. Should have known you wouldn't turn down a challenge."

"What can I say? If I'm going to join, I want to be the guy in charge. I want the Enterprise."

"Cocky brat," Pike murmured a smile on his lips.

"Yet, you still keep me around."

"Yeah, yeah." Pike waved him off. "All candidates are to be roomed with a physician to assess physical and mental states at all time. The curriculum is very rigorous. If you are chosen at the end, the physician will become your CMO."

"And what if I really hate the guy they paired me up with?" Jim was pressing, and he didn't really care. He was promised his own room dammit.

"There is a screening process and each candidate was paired up with a physician who would compliment them well. I think Doctor Leonard McCoy will be a great asset if not a good friend for you."

"Riiiight. I don't really do friends." The young man muttered, leaning back into the chair. He eyed the desk in front of him.

"Put your feet on my desk, and I will have you kicked out of the program so fast, you'll wonder if you ever really left Iowa." Jim only grinned. "Between you and me, making some good friends will help you get through this program. If you are picked, and you become the first man to captain the ship to break warp one, those friends will be the start of a crew that is loyal to you and respects you."

"Careful, you're getting sappy in your old age, Chris," Jim joked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about or can I get used to my new place."

"That and to remind you that I will be your adviser throughout the program and will be here if you have any difficulties."

"I know Chris. Don't get sentimental on me. I prefer the hard ass military captain you always pretend to be." Jim stood up, smirking.

"And I prefer when you don't act like a teenager, but we all can't get what we want." He teased back.

"Hey, I am a teenager. I'm only 19."

"A legal adult." Pike countered. "Try not to burn down the labs for the fun of it this time alright?"

"Not making any promises," the young man called over his shoulder as he headed out the door. He vaguely heard Chris muttering something about regretting his decision to recruit a teenage felon.

Jim chuckled and closed the door, heading back to the apartment/dormitory. It was going to be fun messing with Chris for the next few years, but he wasn't going to ruin his chances here. This was going to be a new start for him. He still had doubts about the whole physician thing. There was no way they could pair him with a guy who they think he'll get along with and have it actually work.

As he neared his apartment, he heard a low southern drawl that almost sounded like a growl coming from the room. "Damn woman! How can she do this to me? Banish me out to the reaches of space wasn't enough; no she had to keep Jo from me too. And what did I do? I decided why the hell not. I got nothing else to lose but my bones."

A grin pulled at Jim's lips. The door front door was partially ajar and swung open with just a little push. Inside a man paced around the small living room, a glass bottle of whiskey in his hand. He looked to be in his late twenties. His appearance was haggard, his clothes rumpled, a five o'clock shadow steadily turning into a sad excuse for a beard, his hair was barely in any better condition. He could pass for a pathetic excuse for a drunkard if it wasn't for the man's eyes. His eyes were sharp when they glanced at him. Not glazed over like the drunks in his home town.

At Jim's entrance, the older man scowled. "And I suppose you're the candidate I'm supposed to assist." At the teen's nod, the scowl deepened. "Great, I'm playing baby sitter for a kid. I have hit an all time low." He took a long swing from the bottle.

"Divorce huh." The man who Jim assumed was McCoy sneered then took another swing. "Tough."

"You're telling me kid. I wouldn't be here if there was anything left for me."

Jim nodded, taking a step closer and stealing the bottle before chugging down a large amount himself. "Believe me, I wouldn't be here either if there was something left for me back home too."

"Hold it right there! You are not old enough to drink." McCoy made a lurch for the bottle, stumbling as he did making it easy for Jim to step back and get out of his reach. "Dammit kid!"

"Kirk. Jim Kirk. Nice to meet you Bones."

Another growl escaped the man as he tried to snatch back his bottle. Jim easily evaded all his attempts. "Don't call me that."

For a moment, the teen paused, considering the man in front of him for a moment. "Hey man, you're looking a little green. You alri─" he didn't get to finish as the older man vomited all over his front. At first, Jim only stared, a bit shocked that he did not see it coming. When the shock wore off he couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, we are going to get along just fine."

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