Chapter Text
Summer 2342
Cadet Beverly Howard stopped at the mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door, taking one last glance before leaving. The cadet uniform was still unusual to her, its firm, starchy material uncomfortable compared to the soft cotton and linen clothes she wore on Caldos. She liked how the uniform looked though; it made it all feel real, something that was both exhilarating and terrifying. She tugged the bottom hem of her uniform top, smoothing out the stubborn wrinkle remaining from the replicator. After confirming that her auburn hair was secure in its chignon, she grabbed her bag and left her dormitory.
As she exited out onto the Academy greens, Beverly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She had first arrived to Earth a week ago, and though she still loved Caldos will all her heart, she was beginning to enjoy San Francisco. It was noisier and busier than her prior home, but it felt like it was a living being, breathing, vibrant, and pulsing. It was an exciting place to begin this next chapter of her life, and she felt as though endless possibilities awaited her here.
Despite her overall optimistic outlook on what Starfleet and the Medical Academy held for her, there remained a seed of doubt. She felt that seed take root in her gut, weighing her down bit by bit as she walked to her first class, an introduction to the medicine program.
What am I doing here? She wondered, admiring the flowers and shrubs planted along the walkway. Surely they didn’t mean to admit me, the girl who knows more about old medical practices than anything from the past century.
The rigor of the program was well known, but Beverly had performed extremely well in her preliminary testing, both for Starfleet and for the medical school. Despite that, there remained a strong underlying fear of not being good enough to cut it. With that, she stopped, staring at a particularly beautiful flower bed while lost in her thoughts.
“Need directions?” A gruff voice behind her brought her back to the moment. She blinked, turning to the owner of the voice, an older gentleman clad in a gray top and brown overalls with dirt on the knees. She glanced behind him and saw a wheelbarrow full of mulch. He must be some sort of gardener or landscaper, she realized.
“Oh no, sorry,” she said hastily. Beverly turned and pointed to a bed of orange flowers that had caught her eye while she was thinking. “Are… are those pot marigolds?”
The man smiled. “Yes, yes they are. They’re some of my favorites.”
She nodded and smiled softly, meeting his eyes. “My nana grew them back home. The calendula plant has a lot of benefits for wound healing and infections.”
At that, he laughed and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a linear cut on his arm covered in a sort of orange-yellow paste.
“I use it all the time,” he chuckled. The man cocked his head, his blue eyes considering her closely. “Don’t often meet someone who knows about medicinal plants.”
“My grandmother is a healer on Caldos and uses mostly traditional remedies. I learned everything I know from her,” Beverly replied, her smile faltering thinking about Nana all alone at their home. The man seemed to notice the change in her demeanor.
“Sounds like a wise lady,” he said gently. “The name’s Boothby, by the way.” He stuck his hand out towards her.
She took it and gave a solid shake. “Beverly, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Always appreciate meeting someone who knows their plants,” Boothby said, nodding solemnly. Beverly laughed, pleased to have passed this man’s test.
“I have to head to class, but it was wonderful meeting you. I hope to see you around,” Beverly said, finding that she meant it. A familiar face would make the intimidation of this new journey a lot easier to stomach. Boothby smiled and nodded his head.
“See you around, Cadet Beverly.”
Beverly hurried to the large amphitheater where her first lecture was being held. This was meant to be an orientation for all cadets entering the Medical Academy, and it was her first opportunity to meet who would become her classmates. She entered the room in the final minutes before class was scheduled to start. There were about 30 other students in the room, and she was relieved to see that at least some of them looked as nervous as she felt. Scanning for an empty seat, she opted for one next to an Andorian female who was looking around the room anxiously. Beverly sat and put her bag down, flashing the Andorian a soft smile. She was about to introduce herself when the door to the classroom entered and a severe-looking Vulcan (the dean, she suspected) entered.
“Greetings, please take your seats.” The Vulcan stopped behind the podium and looked out at the room. “My name is Strakkar, and I am the leader of this program. You are all here as the best of the pool of applicants we received. You can anticipate that this training will be challenging, but when you leave the Academy, you will have sufficient knowledge to proceed to your next level of training.”
He then launched into a detailed description of the structure of courses and clinical rotations. Though overwhelming to realize how much she would need to learn over the next eight years, Beverly couldn’t help but get excited at the thought of the fascinating classes she could take. Exobiology, nanomedicine, frontier medicine — all of them got her blood pumping, brain whirring. It was going to be a long road, but damn, if it wasn’t an interesting one.
When Strakkar dismissed them, Beverly sighed and grabbed her bag. She turned to the nervous Andorian next to her.
“Wow, that was something, wasn’t it?”
The Andorian woman looked at her, eyes wide.
“Yeah, that was… a lot,” she replied. “Almost too much, I think.”
“It’s definitely overwhelming right at the start, but I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Beverly gave her a reassuring smile. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Beverly, want to grab some lunch?”
Still a bit shocked and dazed, the other woman took a moment to reply.
“Yes, yes, lunch would be good,” she said. “My name is Vissia.”
Beverly stood. “Alright Vissia, let’s see if we can find the replimat without asking for directions.”
Luckily, they were able to find the large Academy replimat without help. Once inside, they were swept up in the chaotic bustle of hungry cadets. Beverly ordered herself a salad and waited for Vissia to grab her food before weaving through the crowd to an empty table. The atmosphere in the room was jovial, alight with older cadets reconnecting following summer break. Beverly leaned in towards Vissia, to be heard over the chatter.
“So what did you get? It smells good.”
“Andorian redbat in a yummy sauce,” Vissia said. She looked down and flushed slightly. “It reminds me of home.”
“Are you from Andoria, then?”
“Yeah, a small town outside of the capital. I just moved here for school a week or two ago. It’s definitely an adjustment.”
“Oh, I very much get that,” Beverly laughed. “My home colony on Caldos is practically quaint in comparison. San Francisco seems really interesting though.”
Vissia nodded enthusiastically, her antennae bobbing. “There’s so much to do here!”
“We should find something to do together, out in the city,” Beverly suggested. “Before we get too bogged down in studying.”
With that, Vissia’s face fell. It was clear that the thought of school stressed her out. She looked down at her food, half eaten.
“Penny?” Beverly asked. Vissia looked up, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
“What?”
“‘Penny for your thoughts.’ It’s an old Earth expression. I was just wondering what’s on your mind.”
Vissia sighed.
“I was so confident before I got here, I was sure that all of the studying and preparation that I’ve been doing back home would make me successful. But now that I’m here, I’m not sure. Now I’m wondering if coming here was all just a mistake.”
Beverly reached out and put her hand over Vissia’s. It was cold to the touch. Beverly squeezed, trying to convey a bit of hope. It was always easier for her to be optimistic for other people than for herself.
“I completely relate, I’ve felt the same,” Beverly said. “And I’m sure a lot of the other cadets are feeling that too. We’re all thrown together in this new environment and told we’re going to be pushed to the limit for the next eight years. Of course we’re going to wonder if this was the right thing to do. But I’ve tried to keep telling myself that they picked us for a reason. They know we have what it takes to be excellent doctors. We just have to remember why it is we wanted to be here in the first place. What do you think you want to do after this?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I think I want to go back home, help the people in the smaller settlements on Andoria. My father is a chirurgeon back home, but he focuses more on research. I think I want to focus more on working with patients.”
“That’s lovely,” Beverly said, smiling. “I have no doubt you would be fantastic at that. I’m also sure your father is very proud that you’re here.”
“He is, though he definitely wishes I stayed home to train. I wanted a chance to get out though, see what else the galaxy had to offer.”
Vissia was opening up, bit by bit. Beverly could see that talking about her home world and family made her more at ease. Her eyes lit up and she tossed a lock of silvery-white hair behind her shoulder as she launched into stories about interesting patients her father had seen over the years. She described some of the more humorous encounters with a dry tone that made Beverly laugh out loud.
“So,” Beverly choked out, tears forming in her eyes. “So the patient wanted your father to do an antenna enhancement? Whatever for?”
Vissia looked at her knowingly and said nothing. After a beat, they both dissolved into giggles.
“Goodness,” Beverly said, still recovering from that last fit of laughter. “What a noble profession we’ve entered.”
The following morning, Beverly looked over her schedule while drinking her morning coffee and picking at a scone. The first class of the day was listed as an “Exobiology Practicum” held in one of the holo-classrooms. She hadn’t received a syllabus or description of the course, but it sounded interesting enough. Tossing back the last dregs of her coffee, she stood, grabbed her things, and prepared to face the day.
The holo-classrooms were new to the Academy and a point of great pride for the institution. Large enough to fit 100 people and situated in the main Starfleet Academy building, it was ideal for a variety of training scenarios, both for standard cadets and those on particular tracks. The exobiology practicum being held that day was meant to mimic the older Earth practice of an anatomy lab, where medical students were tasked with performing postmortem dissections in order to better understand human anatomy.
Thankfully, with advances in technology and more species to learn than there were donor bodies to learn from, the Medical Academy was able to transition to entirely holographic dissection labs, which allowed cadets to have the experiences of learning the anatomy of numerous species in the traditional method, without the ethical concerns of acquiring and using deceased donors. Beverly was grateful that they wouldn’t be dissecting actual deceased patients, but for all intents and purposes, the hologram would make it seem like they were cutting real bodies. She felt a little queasy at the thought and hoped desperately she would not lose her meager breakfast.
Outside the holo-classroom, the cadets were approached by an older Terran woman wearing red surgical scrubs. Introducing herself as Dr. Kidd, she directed the cadets to the nearby locker rooms and dismissed them to change into scrubs of their own. In the women’s locker room, Beverly found Vissia.
“How are you feeling today?” Beverly asked. Vissia looked less nervous than the day before, but Beverly saw that her cuticles looked red and raw from worried gnawing.
“I think I’m okay. Definitely nervous, cause I heard that a cadet last year fainted after looking at one of the holographic bodies. I would literally die if that were me.”
“Same here,” Beverly said with a smile. “As long as I don’t vomit or pass out, it’ll be a win. And then after, I can run away and pretend this never happened. At least until next class.”
Vissia laughed quietly as she donned her bright red outfit. Beverly had never put on official scrubs before, and she was surprised at how comfortable they were. The material was softer than her cadet uniform, reminding her more of pajamas than proper attire.
The cadets reconnected at the entrance to the holo-classroom and were welcomed in by Dr. Kidd. The room was large and contained of six separate stations consisting of a long table with a form draped in a white cloth and a small side table with an array of laser scalpels and tweezers. Dr. Kidd turned to the class.
“You have been divided into groups of five. Please see the stack of PADDs over here for your assignments and the dissection manuals. We will be starting this week on Terran anatomy and will continue to other species as the year progresses. You will be evaluated after completing the dissection of each species.”
With that, the cadets flocked to the table containing assignments and PADDs. To her dismay, Beverly noticed that she was not grouped with Vissia but instead with four other cadets she didn’t know. She grabbed a PADD, powered it on, and approached her assigned station. Her teammates were all standing around the long table awkwardly, not speaking or making eye contact.
“So shall we introduce ourselves?” she asked. “We’re going to get quite familiar working together, might as well start breaking the ice. I’m Beverly, originally from Caldos.”
One by one, the group went around and said their names. There was Anne, a woman from Luna, Ziws, a Bolian man, Markus, a Terran man, and Rue, a humanoid woman from Ardana. With pleasantries out of the way, the group opened their PADDs and read over the instructions for their first class. During this morning session, their objective was to open the thoracic cavity and assess the organs and vasculature there. After looking at the steps for the dissection, Beverly stepped towards the head of their “patient” and grabbed the sheet covering them, preparing to expose the upper half of the body. She glanced around the group and allowed everyone the chance to steel themselves. Seeing several nods in reply, Beverly folded the sheet away from the patient’s head to reveal their head, arms, and torso. Despite herself, she gasped.
Their patient was a humanoid male, approximately 60 years old, if Beverly had to guess. The patient looked like they were sleeping, though skin that in life would have been tan in color appeared waxy and pale. There were no marks, blemishes, or injuries on the patient, just faint wrinkles evident on their face and neck. Beverly had to admit, the detail of the hologram was astounding. She found herself focusing on the technologic aspect of what was in front of her to fight off a rising sense of dread and panic. She had never seen a dead body before— not that this man was even dead, or once living— but with a sickening jolt, Beverly realized that she likely had at some point seen a dead body. Arvada III.
Suddenly, Beverly took a step back, needing to pull herself from this spiral her mind was going down. No no no. She internally begged. Please not now, please. She had no real memories of what had happened to her parents on Arvada III, but the feelings she must have had at the time remained. Panic, in its purest form. Devastation, loss, grief.
The rest of her group stared at her as Beverly took several gasping breaths. Blood roared in her ears, and her racing mind likened it to the sound of screams. An acrid taste burned at the back of her throat. She closed her eyes and counted to 10, to 20. Anything to keep her focused on the task ahead of her instead of one of the worst days of her life. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth. She heard Nana’s voice coming clearly to her now. You can survive this, you’ve made it through all of your worst days.
Beverly thought of her Nana’s warm hand on her head, smoothing her hair until Beverly would calm down from her panic attacks. They didn’t happen frequently, and this was the first one she’d had without Nana to talk her down. Thinking of her grandmother helped though, and Beverly was able to control her breathing and slow her heart rate before spiraling any further. With one last deep breath, Beverly stepped back to the table and to her patient.
“So, who wants to start?”
After recovering from her moment of panic, Beverly found herself able to enjoy the class, which felt very strange to admit. She focused on the task ahead of them, placing her tumultuous emotion in a box to be unpacked later. The hologram was intricately designed such that every muscle, nerve, and vessel that they could find in a textbook was present in their patient. It was fascinating to her, to see the information applied in three dimensions, to track the course of the intercostal arteries, veins, and nerves towards the bottom of each rib. Her teammates were similarly awed, looking at lungs for the first time. Each of them found themselves taking deeper breaths as they connected what they were holding to what existed in all of them. It was an oddly bonding experience, Beverly found; in processing the shock of seeing a “dead” body together, they had been vulnerable and effectively broken the ice.
The only one Beverly was not bonding with was Markus, who was proving difficult to work with. She should’ve known that they were in for some trouble when Markus went on for several minutes about his father, who was purportedly “the top surgeon at Starfleet Medical”. Beverly couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, but luckily Markus didn’t see. Ziws did though, and he shot her a grin.
The final straw for Beverly was when Markus interrupted Anne’s discussion of the vessels branching off of the aorta.
“No, are you stupid? This is the right subclavian right here, can’t you see how it moves to the clavicle? And they joke that men don’t know anything about anatomy.” He leered at her.
“God, Markus, you must’ve been out sick the day they taught basic common sense in school,” Beverly shot back, eyes narrowing. “What you’re holding is on the left side of the body. It’s the left subclavian. Anne was right in saying that the right subclavian doesn’t come off of the aorta. It goes right brachiocephalic trunk then right subclavian. Do the reading before you talk so confidently next time.”
As she was speaking, Beverly tried to rein it in. She really did. She had vowed to herself before that she would not say things that hurt people. But she was already sick of this man and his attitude, and she was not going to stand for him pushing other people down.
For the second time that day, Beverly’s group stared at her. She felt her cheeks flush, hating that it was likely very evident on her face. She met Anne’s eyes and saw that she too was flushed, likely with embarrassment over Markus’ harsh words.
The moment broke.
“Whatever,” Markus huffed, scowling. “Let’s just finish this.”
Silently, the group finished the remaining steps of that day’s dissection. Thankfully, cleanup was unnecessary in the holo-classroom. Markus left first, without saying a word to any of them. Beverly looked around to her remaining teammates.
“Certainly an interesting character, huh?” She said, trying to keep judgment from seeping into her tone.
“He’s an ass,” Rue said simply. She had been generally quiet throughout the session, so Beverly was surprised to hear her speak up. She let out a snort in reply.
“Thanks for calling him out on that subclavian thing,” Anne said, turning to Beverly. “I appreciate it.”
“No worries at all,” Beverly replied. “He needed to be knocked off his high horse.”
The group exited the holo-classroom and prepared to split up to change out of their scrubs. As they prepared to say their goodbyes, Ziws spoke up.
“Would you guys want to hang out some time? Explore the city some? I don’t really know anyone here.”
Beverly smiled.
“That’s a great idea. What about next Friday, after our first test? We could go out and get drinks or something. I could also bring someone else in our class, Vissia, she’s very nice.”
The group nodded and settled on where they would meet next week. Proud of herself for making friends, Beverly changed back into her cadet uniform and left to prepare for the rest of the day’s lectures.
The lectures the cadets had in the afternoon were moderately interesting to Beverly: biochemistry and organic chemistry. It was not the practical clinical medicine she was most excited to learn, but she had to admit that it made sense to understand basic cellular structure. By the end of the afternoon, she was getting antsy. Lectures are all fine and good, but Beverly needed to move. After being dismissed for the day, Beverly grabbed her things and headed for the Starfleet Academy Recreation Center. It was a massive complex, consisting of a full gym, several swimming pools, tennis and basketball courts, and a number of holodecks for any additional activities. Beverly hadn’t yet been inside but was eager to explore it.
To her delight, there were several dance studios, complete with barres and floor-to-ceiling mirrors. She reserved one of the rooms and replicated a leotard, tights, and shoes for her to use. Though she was not thrilled at the prospect of having to break in both new tap shoes and ballet slippers, she had left her older pairs of both back on Caldos, thinking that she wouldn’t have the time for dance.
Once changed, Beverly entered the room and began her usual warm-up stretches. She took in her surroundings as she felt her muscles loosen and joints soften. In addition to barres and mirrors on two walls, there was one wall full of windows, allowing the orange late-afternoon sunshine to filter in. There was a computer panel near the entrance, which Beverly approached after her warm-up. She requested some music suitable for ballet and let herself move with the music.
Time floated by as Beverly danced; she focused only on the next step ahead of her. After around 20 minutes, she switched to more upbeat music that would allow her to practice tap. Working herself into a series of spins, Beverly felt herself giggle. The absurdity of twirling nonstop and the associated dizziness made her feel as if she’d taken a large gulp of her Nana’s favorite scotch.
A cough behind her startled Beverly, causing her to lose her balance. She tripped slightly coming out of the spins but caught herself before tumbling to the ground. Turning to locate the sound of the cough, she saw a group of people dressed in dance attire. She immediately blushed. The person who coughed, the apparent leader of the group, stepped forward. He was a tall, lithe humanoid male with dark eyes. He smiled at her.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I believe we have the room reserved right now,” he said, looking at the chronometer on the wall. His voice was kind and melodic; it washed over Beverly in waves as she caught her breath.
Shit, she thought, looking at the chronometer. I hadn’t realized the hour was up.
“I’m very sorry about that,” she said hurriedly. “I’ll be right out of your way.”
“No rush at all, take your time, please,” the man replied, his smile widening. “Those were some impressive spins there.”
Beverly felt her face flush even further, if that was possible. She scrambled to grab her things and leave as soon as possible.
“Thanks,” she muttered, looking at the ground as she moved towards the door. “Sorry again about running over.”
“Feel free to come back this time next week if you want to join our group!”
Beverly didn’t turn around to respond to the man before running out the door.
The next week passed without incident, though Beverly could sense an increasing sense of stress among the class of cadets as their first evaluation neared. She spent the vast majority of her spare time with the cadets she’d met in the Academy Library. Though they were all tense, Beverly was pleased that they all appeared to get along well. Each of them brought interesting background and knowledge to the table, and it allowed their study sessions to expand into broader conversations about their roles in the galaxy and wishes for the future. Anne was also an avid baker, and her homemade Delvan fluff pastries sustained the group during some of their later nights.
It was still early in the semester, but their first examination encompassed everything they had learned thus far in exobiology, biochemistry, and organic chemistry and was a considerable amount of material. By the morning of the exam, Beverly was so sick of chemistry that she would be satisfied to never see a benzene ring again.
While eating breakfast, instead of doing some last-minute studying, Beverly composed a subspace message for her Nana to fill her in on everything happening at the Academy. Her chest ached with longing for home, but Beverly had been finding over the course of the weeks that she was better able to shift her focus from missing home to what was in front of her. Her friends, her studies, dance; there was more than enough going on to be excited about. Finishing up her message, she hit send with a smile and left for her exam.
“Sorry— WHAT?” Beverly sputtered, not believing what she heard. She stared at Anne, eyes wide. “Explain yourself!”
“No explanation needed. You heard me the first time,” Anne said, her eyes narrowing. “I lost my virginity in a turbolift, and I was so flustered when we finished that I shook her hand before leaving.”
The rest of the table erupted in laughter, and Beverly snorted into her beer. She and her fellow cadets were sitting in the back of a bar several blocks from the Academy campus, unwinding with a drink after their horrendous exam earlier that day. Beverly didn’t perform as well as she hoped, but she knew that it was not for a lack of trying. It was just a tough test. The “hardest fucking exam”, as Vissia had lamented several times already. Luckily, the drinks, camaraderie, and loud music were making it easier to forget. As was the wildly devolving conversation about the group’s most embarrassing moments.
“Oh,” Beverly groaned, looking to the ceiling as if begging a higher power to make her forget. “I just remembered something horrible I did to a guy I dated. Ugh, no, no, no.”
All eyes turned to her.
“Now you have to tell us, you know this, right?” Ziws arched an eyebrow.
Beverly covered her eyes before speaking.
“So this was a boy I had gone to school with on Caldos for ages, and I’d always had a crush on him. We were 16 before he finally asks me on a date, and as we’re walking around a park, I want to joke with him and tease, you know? So,” Beverly sighed heavily, still covering her eyes. “I look at his trying-to-be-more-than-peach fuzz and ask ‘are you trying for a beard or do you just have dirt on your face?’”
Half of the group gasped, while Rue and Anne giggled softly.
“Horrible right?” Beverly finally moved her hands and looked at all of them. “He looked so hurt, and he ended the date shortly after. I still feel absolutely awful. I can’t tell if talking about it helps me feel better or worse.”
Vissia reached over and put her hand on Beverly’s shoulder.
“We’ve all made mistakes, Bev, you can’t beat yourself up over it forever. Onwards and upwards, right?”
Beverly smiled at her, partially because of the sentiment, but also because of the nickname. She had never been given a nickname before, and she liked the sound of it.
“That doesn’t even come close to my biggest mistake, my friend, so don’t you worry,” Rue, who was two drinks ahead of the rest of the group, said confidently. “Lemme tell you my deepest darkest. mistake.”
She then launched into a shockingly graphic story about a time in her young adulthood when she carried on a relationship with a man her age and the man’s father simultaneously. Regretfully, Rue was unable to keep the two from finding out about each other. Her description of the fallout of their discovery had the table howling in laughter. Beverly felt her shame and embarrassment set aside for now. They were all flawed, it seemed, but wasn’t it at least something that they were trying to make themselves better?
Anne rose from the table to collect another round of drinks. When she returned, she had their beverages and a young, handsome man in tow. It was clear to Beverly that the man was related to Anne by the shape and color of their eyes, so she had to assume he was either a brother or cousin.
“Guys! My brother Walker! Meet him!” she said eagerly. She placed the tray of drinks in the center of the table. “He’s at Starfleet Headquarters right now, doing fancy Command things. Walker, these are the fellow medical cadets I was talking about— Ziws, Rue, Vissia, and Beverly.”
Those seated at the table waved, and Walker gave an exaggerated salute.
“It’s great to meet you guys. I’m glad to see that you all realize that the Academy is a waste, and the bar is the place to be.”
Anne smacked his arm.
“No no, we are responsible cadets! Just recovering from the first exam of our medical career, let us live!”
“If you say so ‘Nana,” Walker grinned and tousled Anne’s hair. “Well, I should be getting back to my group, nice to meet you all.”
A chorus of “bye”s rose among the group as Anne sat back down, straightening her hair.
“He’s hot,” Rue said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“‘Nana?” Vissia asked.
“First off, no he’s not, that’s disgusting, please stop,” Anne said, listing on her fingers. “And second, it’s just a nickname from him and my sister when we were younger. Walker kept calling me Banana, and Melissa wasn’t old enough to pronounce it, so she kept referring to me as ’Nana. It stuck, unfortunately.”
Beverly snickered and grabbed another drink. Part of her was envious of Anne and her brother, as her parents had died before they had the chance to have any more children. Her heart warmed for Anne though, and she was grateful for the group of people in front of her, who were already becoming the closest friends she’d ever had.