Chapter Text
Prologue: True North
Monday, January 10th, 2242
Andrews Lecture Hall, Theater 6A
Starfleet Engineering Academy
Belfast, Ireland, Earth
The chatter in the back of the hall was more of a buzz than a solid noise; whispers that broke occasionally into silence, then started up again just as unfathomably. Few people seemed to be concerned with what was going on in the front part of the room, where most of the underclassmen were studiously taking notes; those in the back were the upperclassmen who were taking notes not on the subject but rather on the teaching style.
Andrew Corrigan wasn't doing either. A third-year cadet, his only reason for being in the room was because Maggie Mersea was there. He had no urge to help teach the youngsters, especially Basic Language, but Maggie said she wanted to teach and he wanted to be near Maggie, so he signed up for a study period that had nothing to actually do with studying.
Unless, of course, one was studying beautiful ash-blonde women with legs to eternity.
"Corry!"
Corry pulled his attention away from his fascination with Maggie and looked over at Sean Kelley, shoving down a sigh. Sean was about as much fun to talk to as a brick wall; if it didn’t somehow involve his grades or his class ranking, it wasn’t worth his attention.
Still, there were a few times he had given Corry a hand on a project, and even if he was a bit of a condescending bastard, he could summon the occasional moment of geniality, so Corry did his best to pretend to be interested. "Yeah, Sean?"
"Do you have today’s assignment for SS&D?"
Yep, he looked beseeching. Corry hadn't noticed Sean's absence in the class, but apparently he needed a bailout. Digging through his own disorganized notes and textbooks, he pulled out the folder for Year Three Station Structure and Design, and offered the paper over. "It's due on Monday. Captain Bligh will be pretty pissed if you don't turn it in."
Sean chuckled, copying the assignment down on a spare sheet of paper. "Yeah, bad enough that I missed class."
"Where were you, anyway?"
"Trying to finish my project for Captain Ahab. Got it in just before the deadline." Sean finished writing and offered the paper back over, looking relieved.
Corry couldn't blame him. Most of the officers who taught the third and fourth year cadets were downright disagreeable, hence their nicknames. Their excuse for being rough was a weak one at best, the whole spiel about 'how would they react to authority on a starbase or starship if they couldn't handle it in the academy'. As far as Corry was concerned, they had all gone through six months of Basic Training, and that was some of the harshest discipline they were ever likely to encounter outside of wartime. Why beat a dead dog?
Shaking his head, he blew those thoughts off as he turned his gaze back to Maggie. There was just something about her, and it had nothing to do with the fact she was one of the small handful of women in his class that was available and not dating anyone else. To think that would imply that he was desperate for a female companion, and dammit, Andrew Corrigan was never desperate for anything. Back in South Bristol, he had a few girlfriends, and any one of them would--
"Oooh, this oughta be good."
Sean's voice -- or tone of voice -- cut through Corry's rapt fascination. Corry glanced up, and Sean gave him a smirk and nodded to the podium. "That's him. That's the snot that swept in here and snatched my ranking."
Corry frowned, trying to figure out what Sean was griping about. Class ranking? Firmly dragging his thoughts away from romance (at least for the moment), he looked at the podium, where one of the first-year cadets was about to recite some basic Vulcan phrases. How could a first-year steal a third-year's ranking? Then it came back, the more than few whining sessions Sean had gone into over the past month or two about some cadet or another who had transferred over from another Academy.
In all reality, Corry hadn't paid much attention; he had better things to keep his mind on than class ranking. Glancing back at Sean, he tried to keep the amusement out of his voice as he replied, "The supposed grading-curve killer? I dunno, Sean, is he even old enough to be here?"
"Just go ahead and laugh, Corry. It's real funny when some little brat comes in out of nowhere and takes top of the class." Sean's voice faded into a mutter, "Bet he's some admiral's bastard kid or something."
Corry tuned him out, looking back at the podium. The cadet down there looked like he'd be lucky to make it out of the class without passing out, let alone with a passing grade. He was white-knuckling the podium like a novice in zero-g, pale, baby-faced, stuttering around an accent that could've been anything but definitely didn't work well with the careful enunciation of the basic Vulcan dialect.
Corry tried not to laugh, but the poor guy looked downright terrified, and the attempt at 'what is your current heading?' was almost unrecognizable. "You sure, Sean? No way he’s an upperclassman."
"Wanna bet?" Sean sulked, glaring darts at the black-haired cadet below. If looks could kill, everyone between him and the guy behind the podium would be vaporized. "He's in ASD with me, and you'd think he was some kind of damn genius or something from the way ole Ahab talks."
Corry raised an eyebrow. There was no way the somewhat pathetic looking cadet below could have gotten into Advanced Starship Design. He probably couldn't even pass Basic Language, and that was a throwaway class. "Pearson thinks he's a genius?" Corry snickered, leaning back in his seat, "Maybe I oughta see if he'll tutor."
"I told you, I'd tutor you if you wanted. You don't need to go to that brat."
Corry smirked. Geez, Sean was really holding a grudge about that ranking thing. It wasn't the end of the world if someone graduated second in the class instead of first, was it? If Sean's world revolved around that, he really needed to get himself a date and something resembling a life.
The chime ended the class, saving the 'curve-killer' from the second part of his somewhat hopeless oration, and Corry picked up his notes, watching Maggie as she walked-- no, not walked, glided--
She was just beautiful. A love-sick sigh threatened to break away from him, but he held it back.
In the meantime, though, Sean was still muttering as he headed down the steps, and he must've said something to the cadet who had been at the podium, because the room went silent lightning fast and everyone left in the room was watching. Corry looked between the two: Sean Kelley with his somewhat arrogant, barbed look, and the other guy, who was probably about two seconds away from trying to turn him into some sort of punching bag.
Corry wasn't entirely sure why he acted, but later he figured that it was mostly pity. Trotting down the steps, he neatly stepped between the two near-snarling cadets and put on his best disarming grin, taking full advantage of how tall he was compared to the both of them. "Tell me if you need any of your other class assignments, okay? Sean?"
Sean looked up at Corry, probably debating on whether it was worth the trouble to continue antagonizing, but he must have figured it was better to walk away and nodded stiffly. "I'll do that."
Corry notched the grin up another few levels, needing all of the disarming ability he had, and Sean walked out without a backwards glance. The rest of the remaining cadets, both upper and lower classmen, filtered out themselves, clearly more disappointed than anything that someone had broken up a potentially entertaining fight.
Breathing a faint sigh of relief, Corry turned back to the other cadet, who was still fairly lit up. "Don't mind him, he's an ass sometimes."
"Sometimes," the other cadet echoed, brown eyes narrowing on the exit with almost vicious intensity, as if he could bring Sean back to finish what was started by sheer staring power. It might have been a more effective look if he didn’t look like he still belonged in high school, Corry reflected. "Most o' the time, if ye ask me."
"All right, 'most o' the time'," Corry agreed, amiably. The glare he got in answer was like supercooled liquid coolant, and he chuckled as he shook his head, "Geez, you need to relax. Calm down, take a few deep breaths, then you can give me your name."
For a moment, it didn't seem like the advice would be taken, but it ended fairly quickly. "Montgomery Scott. Scotty, tae most people."
Corry nodded, grabbing a few stray papers and offering them over. "Andrew Corrigan, mostly known as Corry the Magnificent."
Scotty took the papers, one eyebrow raising slightly now that he'd apparently managed to rein his temper in, looking skeptical. "Is that yer proclamation, or--?"
"My delusions of grandeur entirely," Corry interrupted, grinning in the most charming manner he had as he leaned on the desk. "I have a theory, you know. Care to hear it?"
"Maybe."
"Well, listen anyway. See, my theory goes like this: Really good engineers are always known by their last names. Always. Bell, Edison, DaVinci, Cochrane, Corrigan--" Dialing up the grin, Corry leaned over the desk and dropped his voice, "But Sean Kelley is always just Sean."
Scotty looked up, with a bit of a thin, lopsided smile back. Tilting his head, he seemed to ponder it for a moment, then looked back at Corry with a quirk of the eyebrows, as if conceding the point. "Good theory."
"Thanks! And now that we've discussed serious universal theory," Corry said, "I have a proposition for you." Taking note of the wary glance he got, he frowned. "Wow, the world's just out to get you, isn't it?"
"Nae the world, just the entire third-year class."
Corry waved a hand, dismissively. "Okay, let me put it another way: I'll get you through Basic Language, and you get me through SS&D."
Scotty paused in his meticulous organization of his notes, books and computer tapes, and Corry raised both eyebrows hopefully. After all, his parents would kill him if he failed in one of his more important courses, and Basic Language had been a breeze for him. It was practically fail-safe, and the terrible, awful curve killer looked like he could use a friend, or at least someone to hang around with who didn't give a hoot about his class rank.
Scotty weighed the idea, looking for all the more like he was trying to divine the future and figure out if it was a good idea. It eventually had to come down to common sense, though, and then he shrugged. "What the hell? Ye've got yerself a deal."