DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters except the ones you don't recognize.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: A series of one-shots written in moments of distraction from grad school. Will update as the muse descends and time permits. I just really wanted to examine life around the Academy. Many OCs and regulars will make appearances too. And despite the title, they won't just be in the office.

The idea for this chapter came about when I almost uploaded a story with this particular typo. Written in about 30 minutes.

OFFICE HOURS

By Christina TM

The Typo

You had to be smart to get into Starfleet Academy. A kid who could get into the Academy could have gotten into Harvard, Berkeley, Cambridge—almost anywhere he wanted. Nobody went to the Academy as a last choice.

Some of the kids who got in were so smart they were almost stupid. The kind of person who could calculate a thermodynamic equation in his head and would forget the normal things, like doing the dishes or returning a message.

"Capt. Pike?"

Pike looked to the door of his office. "Ah, Cadet Ironside," he greeted the young woman in his doorway. "Ironside" seemed such a rough-and-tumble last name for the cute blond budding trauma surgeon. "Come on in."

Ironside stepped in, stood exactly eighteen inches from Pike's desk, and snapped to attention.

"At ease," Pike instructed. "And sit down."

Ironside gracefully sat in the chair opposite the desk, keeping her back straight.

"Cadet," Pike began. "You are aware that the spell checkers on the computer don't catch every error?"

"Of course I am, sir."

"And you're a smart girl, so I assume you also manually check your work before you submit it?"

"Always, captain." Ironside paused. "Is there a problem?"

Pike reached to his right and handed Ironside a datapad copy of her final essay for the spring semester. "Take a look at the header."

Ironside obeyed, but her face showed no reaction.

"My name?" Pike prompted.

Ironside's blue eyes widened. "Oh, my gosh."

Pike started to laugh. "It's a perfectly legitimate word, cadet. That's why the checker didn't catch it."

"Oh, no." Ironside looked up, face bright red. "Sir, I'm…the 'U' is right next to the 'I'—"

Pike reached across the desk and placed his hand over the cadet's wrist. "Ironside, I'm not angry with you. I won't even mark you down for it. I just want you to be aware."

"Oh, I will be, sir." Ironside nodded, the flush fading. "Believe me. I will be."

"That's all, cadet. Dismissed."

Ironside rose, straightened to attention, and left.

Once she was gone, Pike looked down at the pad and shook his head. He was putting this in a safe place. A very safe place. Somewhere he could take it out and chuckle at it every now and then but no one else could find it and use it as ammo on him.

Hm. Pike opened the folder titled "I'd Tell You but I'd Have to Kill You." It was where he kept all the sensitive information no computer-savvy cadet was supposed to see. I'll just put it here.

He saved it as "Yorktown Weapons Inventory," but not before he took one last look at the unfortunate error.

"'Capt. Puke'," Pike muttered as he hit "save."