Chapter Text
Dongmin has always followed protocol.
To say it was in his blood is an understatement; his whole ancestry led him to believe there was absolutely no redeeming value in the act of deviation. From the moment he was born, Dongmin had been sculpted to the standards of Vulcan perfection that had been nothing short of academic prodigy and vast intellectual prowess. Even in family, he acquired an indispensable status with both his mother and father holding high positions on the Vulcan Council. To say the least, he had an upbringing that came from a pedigree few could match, thus it had only been everyone’s expectations that he should naturally inherit a career of similar value. Of course, logic dictated his educational opportunities be best suited to the most prestigious school the Beta Quadrant had to offer: the Vulcan Science Academy.
So when Dongmin had politely declined the offer under the pretense of applying for the Starfleet Academy, he earned the ire of everyone in his planet who had warned him that his efforts to achieve such an academic merit be not atrophied serving under menial human operations. Most of all, he received the brunt of the lecture from his parents who told him that such a vocation would only disparage their flawless reputation.
Though cold and undercutting as they were, these kinds of responses only cemented his decision to look for greener pastures, ones that did not confine with fenced enclosures but rather one that allowed enough stretch for him to pursue bigger things outside of his comfort zone. He knew serving under Starfleet would pave way for an adventure worth twice an entire lifetime dusting away in the safe walls of Vulcan.
This time, however, no one supported him in that logic, so no one said anything when he left his home planet with severed ties from his family, friends and colleagues.
Some would have considered it a risky career move or possibly the biggest mistake of his life, but Dongmin hardly thinks so, seeing his ambitiousness had also been equipped with well honed experience to counteract any challenging curveballs thrown in his way. With the way he was built, he had always been prepared for every possible scenario, every course of action backed up with contingency plans that cushioned his failures so he could rise back up again. There was yet anything that could take him by the neck and sweep him off his feet.
Little did he know, nothing could have prepared him for that one anomaly that was going to disrupt everything he ever learned and ever was; the ultimate glitch in his database and the gap in his experience. The curveball that was going to call itself Cadet Moon Bin of the S.S. Republic.
~O~
Everyone at the Academy hates the simulation test, courtesy of its famous programmer and distinguished Alumni, Lee Dongmin.
To date, there has been an influx of recruits retaking the infamous exam with a preconceived notion that doing so would secure them a rank aboard the S.S. Republic, the newest and most coveted flagship Starfleet can offer, and who’s christening will allow only its most seasoned graduates to man her five year mission in space.
Dongmin altered the parameters of the Kobayashi Maru exam this particular year; the bars set in this new criteria will assess entire units that will serve on the starship instead of assigning individuals according to their specialized departments. The idea had been proposed by the Admiralty to filter out cadets that did not work well within cohorts and brought the possibility of disruption and mutiny amongst crew members. They argued that the philosophy would avoid a chaotic scenario in the Republic’s five year space mission should protocol fail to maintain the people’s strict adherence to the rules.
For the rest of the program, Dongmin is assigned as one of the instructors to monitor the new batches of examinees for the Kobayashi Maru, but despite his frequent visits to the simulation room, he had never crossed paths with a certain cadet taking the exam more times than he was proud of.
Today this particular afternoon, he received orders to attend his immediate admiral’s office at his earliest opportunity, which Dongmin schedules to be about zero six hundred in the morning just to avoid having other appointments moved. He finds it a curious note that his superior officer, Admiral Park Jinwoo, would send this order via mail (actual paper mail, mind you) that he slipped through the gap underneath his door instead of patching it through standard courier that was either a comm or his PADD, almost as if he took all necessary measures to prevent any risks of possible interceptions. An emergency in the headquarters? Perhaps drastic enough it demanded confidentiality at its utmost?
Dongmin decides to queue all concerns on his PADD until the he meets with the Admiral himself. The next day, he skims over the course of his breakfast with only the precise amount of calories required, dons his sweater of the science blue and heads out of his room in no less than ten minutes. Recalling his agenda consists of an insurmountable line up of research, classes and missions in the morning alone, he half-runs half-glides through the campus to push Jinwoo's impromptu meeting on the six am mark.
He enters the vicinity of the building and only manages to step within a few meters shy of the door when-
“Look out!”
Before he quickly ducks out of the way, Dongmin registers the sight of a young man on a motorcycle, hears the screeching noise of the back wheel skidding to an abrupt halt before the said man catapults into the air from the momentum and dives just beside his feet.
The junior cadet, as Dongmin gathers from the insignia on his uniform, gives a look of pain and agony as he tries to gather his limbs awkwardly splayed on the ground. Rubbing his palms clean of dirt on his pants, he sits up to look at the unmoved Vulcan. “Shit, dammit not again. I hope I didnt hurt you, I’m really sorry I’m so-“ he pauses mid apology, mouth left simply exhaling out the rest of his sentence when he finally fixes his eyes on Dongmin’s incredulously placid, yet incredibly ethereal expression.
“—in love.” He breathes inaudibly, staring long and hard that Dongmin wonders if he had lost the ability to blink.
He peers at the cadet’s soulless state. “Are you in need of assistance?”
“Damn it, his voice is perfect too."
Despite the cadet’s pure intention of whispering it to his heart, Dongmin hears it nevertheless and wrinkles his forehead, thoughts curious in comprehending how one's mind can still function shortly after plummeting his head on the stone cold gravel, and didn’t even bother to notice the blood dripping down his jaw.
The young man widens his eyes at the subtle shift of Dongmin’s expression. “Crap, did you just hear that? Well that was stupid, of course you did. You’re Vulcan. Cute pointy ears by the way. I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of wicked feature, but I could totally be into that.” He sputters, all in one breath.
“Cadet, your head is bleeding profusely from a scalp wound you acquired from the fall. I suggest you seek medical assistance urgently should the injury be a result of hemorrhage or skull fracture.”
“And here I was hoping you didn't talk like one,” he sighs, not even acknowledging the gaping wound on his head that apparently rendered him delusional instead of unconscious. He takes one more look at him, scanning from head to toe. “Seriously, what's with you Vulcans and the bowl cut and the weird robotic montone?"
Dongmin ignores his comments. "There is a medical institution twenty point five meters west of that block.” He points with his finger, but the cadet finds a PADD tucked in his other hand more interesting than the whereabouts of a clinic.
“Can I have your number?” He grabs his own device from his backpack ready for a quick exchange.
“Pardon me, I am late for a meeting with the Admiral.” Dongmin replies in the act of walking away but the determined boy circles around in his direction to face him just as he turned.
“Don’t you wanna know my name? It's kind of rude to just walk away, you know?” Dongmin just sidesteps him and walks past briskly, much to the cadet’s chagrin. “Hey, I thought you Vulcans followed protocol!”
"As of the moment, my punctuality precedes the requirements of proper human acquaintance," He checks the time on his PADD. “Perhaps we may be better introduced in less demanding situations.”
“Interesting, because I’ll be demanding for your number next time.” He winks, fingers tapping on his PADD as a warning. The Vulcan only quirks an eyebrow, but not playfully so.
“Perhaps we may be better not introduced at all.”
The door shutting behind him mutes the sound of the cadet’s raucous laughter, as if he took Dongmin's statement as a challenge that he was very much eager to best.
Fascinating.
Normally, Dongmin would have upbraided students who spoke out of their place but this time, he only finds it extremely peculiar that this particular one spoke to him with unusual ease and comfort, unfazed by his cold and cutting Vulcan demeanor that most others shirk away from. No, he didn't shy away either when Dongmin clearly refuted his advancements. Humans aren’t supposed to be enthusiastically receptive when rejected, but he decides to attribute this anomaly to his lack of interaction with them. Or maybe he simply bumped his head too hard to register any ounce of logic. He would have to file a mental note of that cadet for future reference.
By the time he arrives at Jinwoo’s office, it would seem someone else managed to claim his session before he did because he unintentionally overhears Jinwoo deeply occupied in conversation with someone whose voice he does not recognize.
“--because if you keep him in our team, he’s going to cost us our one shot at the Republic.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not the one pulling the plug here,” he hears Jinwoo quip back. “The assignments are a done deal. The point of this exam is to work with whomever you land in the ditch with.”
“And ditching him is out of the question? You’re an Admiral. Can’t you work some magic—“
“The only one with that kind of power is the one in charge of the whole assessment program; Lee Dongmin.” Dongmin decides to take this verbal cue to knock on the door as announcement of his arrival, exactly a minute before estimate, and opens the door when Jinwoo promptly tells him to come inside.
The moment he puts a foot forward, the cadet he finds in the Admiral’s office immediately stands up from his chair to bid Jinwoo goodbye despite clearly having unresolved issues. This leads Dongmin to believe his presence just compromised a suspicious rendezvous, his gaze dipping from Jinwoo to the cadet leaving the room without another word, not even an obligatory greeting for the Vulcan eyeing him the entire way out.
Once alone, Dongmin finally notices Jinwoo's state of distress by the way he reclines on his chair, his middle and index fingers massaging his temples in soothing circles. Dongmin is also well versed with human etiquette, so he respectfully waits for his officer to start the discussion in his convenience.
“That—“ Jinwoo finally attempts, “was just one of the cadets taking your exam in the fall.”
Dongmin nods in understanding, attentive to the disturbed intonation of his voice. “And what of his concern regarding the exam?”
“Oh,” he leans forward in his chair, thoughtfully phrasing his words. "Absolutely nothing related to this small task I’m about to require of you.”
Despite his lacking experience, Dongmin has an acute understanding of what it means when a human feels the unnecessary need to assure the harmlessness of a situation, completely connotative of a desperate favor that requires some form of self sacrifice on his part. Still, he continues listening attentively to the details of his possible demise.
“You see, amongst all our applicants for the S.S. Republic, this particular unit that the Board has been observing for weeks proved to be remarkably outstanding in all aspects. That pretty guy in the room earlier? The one with the sweet, heavenly angelic voice? That’s Kim Myungjun of the Unit ASTRO.” He pulls out his PADD on his desk and displays a catalogue of the unit’s personal files. “Three years ago, S.S. Vega brought back pilots with a disease our CMO couldn’t diagnose for weeks in space. Myungjun identified the pathogen in under two hours, and the best part? He was just a sophomore on medical training.”
Jinwoo navigates to another slide and reveals the second cadet: Park Minhyuk, age eighteen. “And this one. Can you believe this kid knocked out the intermix formula [1]? Figured it out when he was found stowing away in a starship that failed engine mid-warp; he offered to determine the proper mix of matter and antimatter in the warp core reaction chamber,” he pauses for effect, “And he actually did?" he laughs by himself while Dongmin maintains a straight face. “Anyways. They put him on academic suspension for illegal boarding, but gave him a scholarship afterwards to let him teach the professors the formula.”
“Fascinating.” Dongmin comments, his best general adjective for 'cool'. “And what of this other cadet? Yoon Sanha?”
"Shit, you know what, maybe I should've gone with him first because now it kinda sounds underwhelming, " he laments. "Yoon Sanha; barely seventeen. Youngest cadet to finish first in the Starfleet Academy marathon. Honestly, we didn't think much of him at first, but the Board’s been keeping a close eye on him ever since he showed an uncanny ability to lock on objects moving at lightning speed," Jinwoo shrugs. “Claims he just learned it from video games.”
Dongmin observes that the age demographic for the cadets seemed to be exceptionally younger than most human counterparts in their department. Although back in his planet, it's an acceptable norm to let an eight year old Vulcan pilot a shuttlecraft, but human children? Put them on cruise control and it'll eventually lead to a lot of fire and screaming and disrupting alien civilizations, but Jinwoo optimistically believes that fresh young minds have exactly the kind of juices the Republic needs to boldly take them where no one has ever gone before.
Well, even if it also means never getting back home either. There's a reason why only 10% of cadets actually train for something as long as a five year mission in space. It's the kind of mission where they are given honorary medals but in the end, their families are the ones receiving it instead.
That's why Starfleet badly needs all the good recruits with nothing to lose.
Jinwoo is still talking. "They're the ideal crew members. Not that we're biased. I'm just saying their involvement in the Republic would greatly benefit the Federation. But unfortunately, the Board has a problem with qualifying this unit for the Bridge.”
Dongmin skims over the list, attempting to identify the source of his officer's concerns. "Assuming their impressive credentials are not the issues of your distress, in what ways are these cadets troubling to you, Admiral?"
"Oh no," he dismisses the notion with a wave of his hand. "Not them. Not at all. I'm talking about the last one on the list here."
Jinwoo enlarges the image on his PADD, displaying for Dongmin an exceptionally familiar profile absent of bruises and a bleeding forehead, but still flaunting his signature cheeky smirk. It never occured to him that he'd be reintroduced so soon and so out of context. "Our little punchline: Cadet Moon Bin."
The name Moon Bin wasn't a mouthful to him, but that character on the file boasted several outstanding field performances in the Starfleet Academy, none of which Dongmin could have deduced the roguish boy on the motorcycle was capable of handling.
"Now this one here is a pretty remarkable unit on its own. His aptitude tests are off the charts, he’s a brilliant pilot, and he's shown excellent potential as a Starfleet Captain," Jinwoo lets his sentence hang in the air ominously for a moment, which Dongmin surmises as an upcoming 'but' scenario.
"But," he says at last. "He's had some…disciplinary issues," Jinwoo then displays an even longer record of severe misconducts which lists a number of arrest cases and several academic suspensions. Dongmin finds himself scrolling down more pages than he anticipated. “And despite the fact that he has an aptitude akin to a genius, he’s failing most of his classes. All members of the unit have to receive an academic approval, so if ASTRO is ever to get the keys to the Republic ..." he trails, heaving a deep breath before continuing. “…he’s going to have to pass the exam. Which is where you will come in by the way."
Dongmin takes a moment to purposely stall, letting the Admiral's implication sink on his mind before he points out the obvious question. "If I may, sir, are you insinuating that as the authority of such an exam that would determine the unit's qualifications for the Republic, I should employ some form of bias in my judgement in order to secure their positions aboard the Starship?"
Jinwoo only makes a sound that neither confirms nor denies his query. "Well," he squeaks, right shoulder hitching up to reach his ear. "When you put it like that, that does sound like cheating, doesn't it?"
"Such offense, if found out, could result in the termination of my position aboard the ship."
“Oh, I wouldn’t ask you to cheat, Dongmin. I would never," he chokes, affronted. “It's just--it’s going to cost us some really good and useful hands on the ship if no one knows how to fix that guy."
"I must profess that I have met the cadet on a recent occasion." Dongmin states, deeming the information relevant. "I believe he has expressed...willingness of cooperation to me."
Jinwoo's expression shifts from dismay to utter disbelief in a microsecond. Dongmin isn’t sure what he has just done, but he just experienced an instant wave of regret. "What an excellent suggestion, Lieutenant Commander!" He says excitedly, eyes suddenly lighting up with an idea. "You can tutor Moon Bin!"
Dongmin tilts his head to a fraction of a degree. "I did not mean to imply that I would take over-"
“My god, this fixes everything! Not to mention your Vulcan methods are remarkably effective."
“Admiral, I am not certain if I have the carrying capacity to handle another-“
"I really appreciate you volunteering like this," Jinwoo cuts deliberately. “We really need more people like you in these unfortunate times."
The young Vulcan raises a skeptical eyebrow at his Admiral’s very unusual, yet very human like behavior. “Admiral, I believe you are employing the tactic of ignoring my voiced disapproval for the sake of forcing me—“
"Dongmin, I'm desperate." Jinwoo finally admits. "The Board is breathing down my neck and my head's gonna end up on the chopping block if I don’t fix this."
"The Academy does not sanction death penalties for-"
“It's just an expression, Dongmin."
“You are tasking me with a possibly time consuming matter while I am simultaenously burdened by my other duties and responsibilities as an instructor of the Academy."
Jinwoo only purses his lips, eyes pleading, and once again, Dongmin ends up with the shortest end of the straw.
"Very well."
And that's how he ends up in the simulation room at two in the afternoon instead of wrapping up the remaining progress of his botanical research. He laments how Jinwoo can remarkably manipulate the situation to bribe favors even when Dongmin expressed no interest when he said he’d double the Christmas bonus. He decides it best to just acquiesce to his superior's command instead of vetoing the only other man willing to fund his plant experiments.
Sometimes, it makes him wonder how someone as childishly petulant as Jinwoo even rose to a position as venerable as Admiral.
For now, he’s in the observation deck checking attendance for unit ASTRO and it doesn’t surprise him one bit when he finds the captain's chair devoid of its assigned trainee for the day. He walks over towards the comm and transmits a message through the speakers in the simulation field, the exact replica of the Republic Bridge.
"Is your teammate not aware he is part of a scheduled session today?" He asks, voice booming in their ears without warning and effectively making Sanha jump in his seat.
“Um...he should be?” Sanha asks the air around him and glances suspiciously at the one-way mirror above.
“He told me he was studying for it last night.” Minhyuk adds.
Dongmin checks the time, clock ticking to make way for the next batch. “Did it ever occur to him that in order to pass the exam, he should, at the very least, show up for it?”
“This isn’t the first time,” Myungjun deadpans from the communications side of the room. “He usually comes just right before you give up waiting.”
Dongmin opens his PADD, ready to scratch off their names. “If he fails to appear in T-minus one minute, I will have to demerit your points-“
“What the hell-!” a loud gasp from the hallway intervenes his threat. “Why does this replicator machine charge so much for a goddamn cup of coffee?!”
It takes Moon Bin a few long strides before he appears in Dongmin’s line of sight in the simulation room, looking dissatisfied with the cup of orange juice in his hand.
“Look who still can’t show up on time.” Myungjun bickers.
"Look who still pisses me off.” Moon Bin volleys back.
"You almost got us disqualified!" Sanha blurts. "Again!"
Moon Bin gestures for him to calm down so he can explain himself. "It wasn't my fault, alright? I had an accident with this gorgeous Vulcan and the next thing I knew I was bleeding the shit out of my forehead. Thank god for hyposprays, though.”
Dongmin had been absolutely wrong to assume a simple nog on the brain would, in any way, diminish his capacity to smart mouth. At least his head looks healed and ready to take another beating, which he plans to explicitly do so in all the right places with this test.
“Sit down, Cadet.” Dongmin commands through the system.
“Hey, I know that voice!”
Dongmin wonders if there's a unique inflection in the way he says the word 'cadet' that makes the young man recognize him almost instantaneously. He watches the cadet eagerly sit on his chair and swivel around to face the mirror, and despite it being transparent only on Dongmin’s view, Moon Bin somehow manages to make direct eye contact with him. His smile is wide and crooked and its weird but it’s also kind of endearing. “Are you watching me today? Do I get something if you like what you see here?”
“We will begin the simulation on my mark. 3…2…1…”
“You’re so gonna love me."
“Mark.”
~O~
Dongmin didn’t see this coming.
At first, the initial phase started out smoothly. The trainees routed a series of courses that tested their abilities in their key positions; Myungjun’s adeptness at the scientific and medical aspect, Minhyuk’s expertise at warp core mechanics, and Sanha’s exemplary proficiency at firearms.
Even Moon Bin was doing better than he expected. He knew the correct commands and the optimal solutions to all of the problems they’ve encountered in the simulation. Jinwoo's ominous warnings seemed to have fallen short of his drastic expectations, but it had only been a matter of time until things slowly started plummeting downhill, right when they were starting to approach the boss level.
“Caaaptain,” Myungjun drawls absentmindedly, the report already scripted in his head from the number of times he’s rehearsed the simulation. “We’ve received a distress signal from the civilian freighter Kobayashi Maru. The ship has just struck a gravitic mine in the Klingon Neutral Zone and is rapidly losing power, hull integrity and life support. Starfleet orders their immediate rescue.”
Moon Bin only pretends to be concerned. “Oh no.”
Minhyuk diligently waits on standby for an order until it dawns on him that Bin had no intentions of elaborating. “Do you, perhaps, want us to do something about it?”
Their acting captain only swivels playfully in his chair, attention span scattered everywhere. “Can we at least verify the distress signal first?"
Myungjun rolls his eyes but obediently displays the schematics on his dock. “Sensor readings are indeterminate.”
Moon Bin makes disappointed clicking sounds with his tongue. “Just as I suspected. Okay then, let's plot a course back home."
Sanha absentmindedly agrees until he actually processes the order. "Plotting intercept course for the rescue of the--wait what?"
Moon Bin stops spinning, eager to clarify. "You heard me, helmsman. Warp us out of here."
Completely caught off guard by the order, Sanha glances at Minhyuk for support, but even Minhyuk hesitates to aft the thrusters just in case he heard it wrong. This whole thing just sounds so wrong.
"Maximum warp." Moon bin presses. "And punch it."
"What the hell are you doing? This isn’t what we planned." Myungjun snarls at him with a degree of restraint, trying to look composed in front of the observers, but making sure Moon Bin sees exactly just how pissed he is.
From the observation deck, Dongmin notes a noticeable surge in tension and logs it accordingly.
Moon Bin responds with a toothy smile. From what it looked like, he actually seems to derive hilarity from the situation rather than complete anxiety of which Myungjun has currently epitomized. “You know, the only possible way to attempt a rescue mission is to cross the Klingon Neutral Zone, which is, by the way, suicide. Furthermore, those 'civilians' could also just be a ruse to lure us into a death trap."
"So you want us to abandon the mission?" Myungjun asks incredolously. “We can’t just abandon protocol."
Minhyuk joins to back up Myungjun. “And it’s a direct order from Starfleet headquarters!”
Sanha nods in agreement. “And we could be marooned on another planet for mutiny.”
“I could maroon you idiots right now for mutiny,” Moon Bin points an accusatory finger at them, “Think for a moment.” He says, connecting the finger to his temple. “Even if it wasn’t a trap, rescuing them could mean killing us, and I won't allow that.”
“You think rules exist just so you can disagree with them?" Myungjun counters, unwavering in his predicament but it does nothing to sway his captain's solid disposition. “We’re supposed to be following orders."
“Then follow mine." Moon Bin answers brazenly. He turns to the two younger cadets on the navigation dock. “Do I need to repeat myself? Get us out of here.”
Myungjun vividly blanches. He's about to protest once again when Minhyuk interrupts them with a surprising report.
“Captain, my readings for the Kobayashi Maru have disappeared! The Klingons have destroyed their ship.” Minhyuk calls, pulling the attention of everyone on deck. “And now they’re locking phasers on us!”
Moon Bin groans knowing that they could have avoided this whole debacle without the time wasted for chivalrous mutiny. He takes one good look at Myungjun just to see the dust of guilt settle on his face. “We’re doing this my way now.” He turns with a smooth twist of his heel and settles down on the chair, intensely focused on anything but Myungjun’s visible struggle to comply.
“What do we do?!” Sanha half questions, half screams at Moon Bin as the Klingons commenced drilling their ship with an overwhelming torrent of photon lasers.
“Calm down.”
“Oh, okay sure,” Sanha shrugs. "I mean yeah. We’re only getting killed here. No big deal.”
At the observation deck, even Dongmin wonders why the cadet had been so unusually calm and collected towards a situation where most others would have been rendered susceptible to indecisiveness. He’s not sure why, but like always, his musings always came with a possible theory. He rewires the simulation into a more challenging mode.
At this, a massive explosion suddenly breaches a sector of their ship off screen. “Captain, our shields are at 23%,” Minhyuk reports with one hand firing combat weapons, and the other one typing combinations to activate emergency drills. “We can’t take another hit like that.”
Myungjun turns into a shade of red that seemed biologically impossible. “May I suggest, I don’t know, fighting back?!”
“Nah.”
“For crying out loud when are you going to stop acting like a complete ass-“
A static glitch in the system momentarily shuts down power in the entire Bridge for a brief second before the computers chimed back to life again, whirring operationally as if nothing had happened.
Dongmin narrows his eyes, initial suspicions adding up to bolster his preconceived theory. “Interesting.”
The moment the power comes back on, Moon Bin springs into action, expertly carrying out a series of commands as if he had been reborn with a brand new resolve.
“Divert all auxiliary power to forward shields and fire on all warbirds with singular ammunition!” There’s a spark of fire in his eyes as he monitors the simulation screen with intense focus, and it leaves Dongmin stunned by the sudden transition of his personality almost as if a switch just turned on inside of him.
“But 'Captain',” Minhyuk protests with a mocking intonation. “Their shields are still up.”
“Are they?” Moon Bin asks in an impish way where he doesn't imply it as question but more so as a clarification, so Minhyuk checks the schematics once again and finds that astonishingly, the protective field barriers around the Klingon vessel has inexplicably plummeted to a zero despite not having received any hostile attacks from anyone within vicinity.
He blinks at the diagrams in disbelief. “…no, they’re not.”
“Then fire everything we’ve got!”
Moon Bin sits back with a satisfied grin on his face while his team pummels their hull with a myriad of firepower that quickly overpowers the enemy ship and diffuses it into flaming shards. It takes them less than a minute to completely wipe the vessel off the infrared map until they realize the fight was over and that they had beat the simulation.
Okay. They had managed to beat the simulation.
And the look on Myungjun, Minhyuk and Sanha's faces says it all.
Moon Bin appears to be the only one unaffected by the complete 180 degree turn of events. He captures this by the way he saunters around the Bridge, stopping just adjacent to the one way mirror above where he knows a certain Vulcan was observing. He grabs his orange juice from the table on the side and takes a well deserved sip.
"So, what's my prize?"