Fic: You Birthed It, Chapter 1
Title: You Birthed It
Chapter Title: Kirk: A Young Man Goes to War
Author: katiemariie
Artist: azuremonkey
Mixer: jactrades
Mixer: pearlstar178
Beta: Renn
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS/Farscape
Word Count: 5877
Rating: R
Warnings: Strong language, violence, ableism, cissexism
“Love. You're better off without it, and I'm better off without mine. This vessel, I give, she takes. She won't permit me my life. I've got to live hers.”
-Kirk, “The Naked Time”
-
It was supposed to be a peace mission. It was supposed to be a privilege. Kirk was the only fledge cadet chosen to witness the signing of the peace treaty between the Federation and Axanar. The other cadets were all upperclassmen, but Kirk was special.
Kirk was the only one who made it back home.
They were diverted to some distant part of the galaxy Kirk had never even heard of. He still isn't completely sure how the Enterprise found it, but the instructions they sent via subspace were light years ahead of anything Starfleet had or even knew about. The ships there-in the sector of space the Enterprise stumbled upon-they could achieve faster-than-light travel while in regular space. Hetch drive, they called it. Combining hetch and warp drives had a multiplicative effect; with one or another, it would take seventy years to reach that other side of the rainbow, but together... It was as simple as traveling to Mars for a three-day weekend.
One moment they were in the alpha quadrant, the next in the middle of a battle between the Enterprise and a fleet of giant, bulbous black ships in an expanse of stars never charted.
Kirk and any other available bodies on the Republic were beamed aboard one of the alien vessels. He remembers protesting on the transporter pad. “I don't have any combat training.”
The quartermaster handed him a phaser. “Can you hit the broadside of a barn?”
Kirk shrugged. “I'm from Iowa.”
“Good on ya, lad. Keep it set on stun.”
“Stun? Stun what?”
He felt the tingle of transport and when he materialized, he shot at the first creature he saw-a large, hulking dinosaur-like beast. And it disappeared. (Years later, when looking over the nomination papers for his Palm Leaf, Kirk learned the creature's name: Wolesh. He doesn't like to remember that.) Before firing off his next shot, Kirk checked his phaser-set on stun. That shouldn't have happened. The next few fell just the same.
It was clean and easy and for a while it was almost fun, like a holo-game.
But they didn't stop coming. They came in groups of ten, one after another for hours. They had to see that it was a lost cause-they had to see their comrades dying, but they wouldn't stop. They wouldn't be captured.
Kirk found a communications officer pleading with an alien commander over comms, but the universal translator was useless with them. (Kirk knows now that the Scarrans could understand every word they said and still rejected their terms. Sometimes that makes him feel better.)
Soon the vessel was cleared and then the whole fleet. Starfleet scavenged their technology, learned their weaknesses and their threat, and then... the threat was neutralized.
The Scarran species was gone. Except for a boy-a half-breed hidden away by Starfleet Medical whom no one thought would live to see adulthood.
Things could get back to normal. Kirk returned to the Academy and Starfleet returned to diplomacy and exploration, establishing treaties of peace or non-aggression with species in the newly-discovered sector of space. The Peacekeepers were quick to form an alliance after hearing that Humans were of the same genetic stock. The Federation was quick to accept for much the same reason. There were concessions, of course. The child soldiers would have to go. The Federation could reconcile itself with what the Peacekeepers did to the other species they ruled, but the images of little Human children sleeping with pulse rifles in their cots weren't quick to leave the Terran collective consciousness.
Kirk blames the press. He does that a lot now.
It seems nowadays a Starfleet officer can't piss without a press release. The whole damn fleet's immobilized by fear of setting off a media frenzy on even the most trivial of matters. Even worse, the admiralty seems to be going out of its way to generate positive buzz. It's beginning to interfere with the fleet's ability to protect the Federation and explore the galaxy.
Not to speak of the danger it places officers in.
What if, god forbid, there's a lab accident that starts a fire and the only person who can reach the extinguisher is the half-breed? Crew would die, because Lieutenant Scorpius can't withstand the heat. The same goes for the two Sebaceans.
Kirk isn't against having aliens serving aboard his ship-Spock makes a fine first officer and would make for a good friend if he were the type to make friends-but when their... biological particularities endanger his crew and the Federation itself, that's where he draws the line.
And he is in no way bitter that none of these kids are at all grateful for what he and Spock and Scotty went through for their freedom and all the good men who died during the Scarran onslaught so they could serve in Starfleet.
(That's not entirely true. (Not the Kirk not being bitter part. That's the god's honest truth.) The twitchy one with the mask mourns the war dead with every meal, but he hardly counts given that he mourns all the dead all the time and he's not even in Starfleet. Kirk doesn't know who this person is beyond that his people were slaves and he's some kind of mystic contracted by the Federation to serve as chaplain. Kirk would care to learn more, but the man is so useless and irrelevant to everything happening right now that it is honestly not worth the effort. Bones says the kid's something special; Kirk thinks their old country doctor likes having someone to share death with.)
Kirk is self-aware enough to know that he hates them a little for being young and on their first assignment and looking forward to the rest of their lives. Kirk feels that way about Uhura and that Sulu from botany and Spock's relief officer from Russia. Yet he won't admit that this resentment isn't colored by the same righteous anger over what he lost for them. He can't begin to acknowledge that, when he looks at the two-and-a-half Sebaceans smiling as they eat their lunch together, he wants scream, “I saved you from that world and I was burned by it and none of you even have the decency to-to-to-” Kirk can't acknowledge it, he can't say it, so he powers through it by force of personality, joining them at their sacred table.
“Do you mind if I take a seat?” he asks all smiles.
“No, of course not, captain,” Braca says-servile in a way that makes Kirk's skin crawl.
Kirk swings his leg over the bench, hitting something hard that emits a clang and an 'eep!' When he looks, he sees Stark under the table eating a sandwich. Caught, he scuttles up to the surface, taking a seat between Sun and the Starchild. “Captain! I'm-I'm sorry my face hit your foot. I wasn't looking. I must admit I have a very inconvenient face at times. I'm told.”
“It's not a problem,” Kirk says. “I'm the one who should be sorry, it was my foot that hit your face. I should have looked where I was going. ...Is eating under the table a custom amongst your people?”
Stark shakes his head.
“I knew a Banik who did that,” Braca says. “My commanding officer's would crouch under her desk while she was eating to lick the crumbs off her boots.” He recalls this like a cherished childhood memory, which it probably is.
“Stark!” Bones calls from across the mess hall. “I didn't know you ate lunch. I never see you in here. 'Scuse me, Jim.” He takes a seat. “Figures it'd have to be the captain to finally be brave enough to sit with y'all. You know everyone's terribly intimidated by you.”
“Oh,” Sun says. “We know.”
“Then why do you all sit together then?”
“Why do all the Humans sit together?”
“Touché. Say, did anybody grab any hot sauce?” At their blank looks... “Oh, right. Wrong crowd.”
Walking behind Scorpius, Scotty stops mid-stride and stares at the table. “I dinna know we were allowed to sit here.”
Bones scooches over. “C'mon, Scotty. They don't bite.”
“If that's alright with all of ye...”
“By all means,” Scorpius says.
Scotty grins widely. “Thank you kindly. This is a nice table.”
“It is the best table,” Braca says matter-of-factly.
“Is that so?” McCoy asks.
“Yes.”
“Braca tested all the tables our first night aboard,” Aeryn says, smirking, “and presented me with the best one.”
“As a token of friendship and to signify my confidence in her leadership abilities.” It isn't often that a male officer defers so openly to a younger female officer. It isn't often that Kirk's officers give each other tables either. Is that a Peacekeeper thing?
“So, where are you all from?” Jim asks. “I know you were all born on starships, but where were you settled?”
“England,” Braca says.
“Oh. Where?”
“Off the western coast of Europe.”
“No. I mean, where in England?”
“Surrey, sir.”
“And you, Mr. Scorpius?”
“Buckinghamshire.”
“And you're from England, as well, Lieutenant Sun?”
“No,” she answers. “France.”
“Really? I was sure I detected a British accent.”
“This is how everyone speaks Standard in France. At least in Haute-Saône.”
“My people were placed in Australia,” Stark says. “The Federation tried to put us on Vulcan, but our temperaments... were not compatible. I think it was the crying. I've found most Federation species are intimidated by men who weep openly... Humans among them.”
“I wouldna say we're intimidated,” Scotty says.
“It's just we've got different standards of behavior,” Bones explains. “Crying is something a man does alone. In private.”
“Like masturbation,” Aeryn says. At their shocked expressions... “Don't tell me you don't do that.”
“Uh...”
“So, er, er...” Scotty stammers. “What do your parents do?” He directs this unfortunate question to Scorpius, of course.
“Are you frelling kidding me?” Scorpius asks in an impossibly even tone.
“I mean, er...”
“My parents,” Aeryn cuts in, “are flitter pilots.”
“I was raised as a proper Peacekeeper-” Aeryn gives Braca's shoulder a shove. “-so I was never introduced to my gamete donors.”
“I was sold away from my mother as soon as I was weaned,” Stark says. “I haven't been able to find her.”
“Geez,” Bones grumbles. “Way to bring the room down, Scotty.”
“Sorry,” Scott says. “I dinna know it was such a sensitive subject.”
“Captain.” Spock steps behind Kirk. “There's a matter on the bridge that requires your attention.”
“Of course.” Kirk extricates himself from the bench, managing not to maim anyone in the process. “Mr. Spock, have you eaten lunch yet?”
“No, I have not.”
“I'll handle matters on the bridge. You take my place. I'm sure you and Mr. Scorpius will have a lot to talk about.”
Walking towards the turbolift, Kirk swears he can hear Scorpius mutter, “Are you frelling kidding me?”
-
Kirk is willing to stake credits on the first man to say, “It's lonely at the top,” being the captain of his own vessel. Kirk has never had a hard time making friends. He's extremely charming and endlessly likable, if you ask him. But finding true intimacy with another person now only comes to him fleetingly in the company of women, in ships passing in the night. And since Kirk can't fraternize with the women in his crew... well, let's just say he isn't a very active seaport lately.
Between shore leaves and the random assortment of women he meets on missions, Kirk's need for strong, emotional contact with another being goes unaddressed. He can mingle and chat with his senior officers, but there's no one on board with whom he can share his doubts and insecurities and simple rage. The war is something that stays locked up inside his head.
The only two people who were there, who saw the endless parade of dead Scarrans, are Spock and Scotty. Kirk can't exactly go pouring his heart out to a Vulcan (that might actually constitute some kind of harassment, but he's not sure) and, while Scotty would no doubt understand what Kirk's going through, the closer Jim gets to him, the harder it is to maintain plausible deniability of knowing that Scotty is an alcoholic.
Kirk supposes he could go to Bones about it-he really does like the guy-but spilling all of his secrets to the one person on board who can relieve him of command with impunity doesn't seem that wise of an idea. Kirk has already lost command of his ship once since their mission began a few months ago and he isn't willing to repeat the experience.
The polywater was unexpected-the effect it had on Jim even more so. He always thought he loved the Enterprise; he never thought he would abandon his seat commanding her and spend the next two hours as she hurtled into a planet berating her for stealing his youth, his personal life, and joy for living. He also never expected he would break just about all of his knuckles pummeling her bulkheads. All while anthropomorphizing her as a woman.
“What do you suppose that means?” Jim asks, coming up for air.
Natira cradles the back of his head. “I imagine you have some unresolved issues about women.” She pulls tight on his hair, making him see stars. “You're welcome to work them out on me.”
It seems like that's the answer-that he's finally found someone to share himself with, to become a better person alongside. Then while he's sleeping, she tries to eat his eyeballs.
Another relationship ends, another begins.
“I am the female of the species, you know that don't you?”
“No, but now that now that I do...”
After, when they're putting their boots back on, Jim asks, “Do you ever punch your ship?”
Staanz grins lopsidedly. “Only to make her run.”
“So she's a female then?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Gender and sex aren't as, er, constant in my culture as there are in yours.”
Jim holds up a finger, about to ask if Staanz will still be the female of the species tomorrow morning, but finds that he doesn't really care. That's new.
“What?”
“Nothing... Do you ever resent your ship?”
“Resent her? She's my home, my livelihood, my purpose. She's the only thing keeping me from starvin' or getting caught up by the Peacekeepers. ...Er, forget I said that last part, would ya, Starfleet?”
“It's forgotten.”
“Good. Throw me my coat, eh? Thanks. You don't...” She pulls her coat on over her head. “You don't feel the same about your lady, the Enterprise?”
“I thought I did, but now... It seems like I've dedicated my entire life to keeping her afloat and for nothing in return.”
“But she keeps you afloat, too.”
“If that's true, why do I feel like I'm drowning?”
That level of insight is frankly terrifying and Kirk finds himself almost relieved when he and Staanz are forced to go their separate ways.
He's on his own until shore leave six months later, and after spending it in the arms of two different women (one who tried to gobble him up (literally) and another who tried to turn him into an illicit hallucinogenic), Kirk is beginning to think burying his worries in the closest available bosom isn't too healthy for him or his Starfleet career. He gets confirmation (and a minor heart attack) when Scotty greets him back on board with, “Capt'n, have you heard about the sex tape?”
“Sex tape?” Jim asks, feeling all the blood drain from his face.
“Aye, it's all over the intrafleet network.”
“Who made it public? Natira? The other Natira? Elaan? Linfer?” Those are the only women Kirk remembers making a sex tape with, but there could be any number of women who filmed him without his knowledge.
“I could nae say, but my credits are on Braca.”
“Braca? Helmsman Braca?”
“Aye. Seems the type who'd want a few moments of fame... even if it was for giving it to the Starchild.”
Kirk takes a breath, glad that it's two of his lieutenants starring in Starfleet's fastest circulating sex tape and not him, before clenching at the realization that two of his lieutenants are starring in Starfleet's fastest circulating sex tape. My god, the paperwork.
-
“Gentlemen, take a seat.” They sit-Scorpius looks steaming mad and Braca looks like he's got two months to live. “Now, let me start by saying that neither of you are in trouble. Our preliminary investigation has determined that it was someone employed at your hotel who rigged the room with film equipment and distributed the video to the press. And, while it is certainly embarrassing for Starfleet, nothing you did on that video was illegal. Not on that planet anyway.” His attempt at humor doesn't brighten their moods. Braca doesn't even chortle and he laughs at every joke (no matter how funny) told by anyone of a higher rank. “Starfleet and the local authorities are pursuing a full investigation and if-when the perpetrator is apprehended, the district attorney intends on prosecuting them to the fullest extent of the planet's law.”
“Will we have to testify?” Scorpius asks.
“I'm not sure. But if you do, it will be through subspace communication. The planet makes special allowances for victims of sex crimes. Now, I will completely understand if either of you wish to transfer to another posting. I can't guarantee that it will be to another starship or that Starfleet will be able to place you together, but-”
“We're not leaving,” Scorpius says.
Kirk looks to Braca, struggling to make eye contact as the lieutenant stares down at the desk between them. “Braca, is that what you want?”
“Yes, captain. I shan't give up a position aboard the Federation flagship when everyone at my new posting will have seen the recording as well. And I have friends here.”
“Lieutenant, I assure you, not every member of Starfleet, or even every member of this crew has seen the recording.”
“Captain, I must respectfully disagree. Even if they haven't seen the recording, they know what happens in it because their friends have told them about it.”
“I can't stop anyone from talking about the video, but Starfleet has removed it from their servers. Members of my crew found in possession of the video will be punished. If you begin to face any harassment, report it directly to me and I will-”
“Treat our complaints with the same gravity as you have in the past,” Scorpius finishes, sneering.
“What exactly do you mean by that, lieutenant?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“You said it. And we both know you never say anything if you know you won't get something out of it.”
Scorpius leans forward in his chair. “I merely meant that perhaps your process of addressing crew complaints is less efficient when said crew are, shall we say, less than Human.”
“If you're implying that I take the complaints of my non-Human crew any less seriously than that of my Human-”
“I wasn't implying, I was stating rather directly. I thought I was being quite clear about that.”
“Mr. Scorpius,” Kirk says sharply. “I realize that you have recently been violated in a horrific and most public fashion and are likely in a good deal of distress, but you are still a member of my crew and will behave as such-and that includes giving your captain his due respect. Do you understand?”
“Aye aye, captain.”
-
Kirk chafes underneath his dress uniform. Doing damage control from his ready room has never been his idea of a good time and given the subject matter...
It's the hottest topic on Terra, so he makes the main civilian newswire. He realizes that Starfleet wants to reach the largest audience possible, but that wire's head correspondent is known for a mean conservative streak.
“Captain Kirk,” the correspondent says, beginning the interview portion, “how would you respond to claims that the acts depicted on the recording are unbecoming of a Starfleet officer?”
“I would respond by asking those people how they know what's on that recording.”
“In a poll conducted on our website, we've found that most of our viewers learned about the recording's content from communiques sent by a religious organization or citizen's group they belong to-most of which were warning against allowing their children to join Starfleet. How do you respond to that?”
“I would say that Starfleet neither encourages nor condemns the acts on that recording.”
“So Starfleet doesn't condemn pedophilia?”
“Pedophilia? To the best of my knowledge there were no children on that recording.”
“Except for the Starchild.”
“The Starchild-Lieutenant Scorpius is a twenty-nine-year-old man who I am sure would appreciate a new nickname.”
“Due to his hybrid genetics and unique physiology, age might not be an accurate predictor of his mental and physical maturity. For all intents and purposes, Lieutenant Scorpius could still be a child.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Lieutenant Scorpius is not a child. You and your newswire's continued need to infantilize him denies him the respect he deserves as a member of my crew, as the Federation's pre-eminent neurobiological cyberneticist, and as a sexual being capable of healthy, adult relationships.”
“Healthy adult relationships? Have you seen the tape?”
“No. It would be unbecoming of a Starfleet captain to watch his crewmen engage in sex acts filmed without their permission.”
“So you are not aware that those sex acts include...” The correspondent reads from a padd, “nipple play, fisting, biting, ingestion of bodily fluids including blood, bondage, spanking, erotic asphyxiation, role play, and acts that can only be described as a fusion of sado-masochism and Russian ballet.”
“As I said, I haven't watched the tape and I doubt I ever will, because those acts, as long as they were between two consenting adults, are none of my or Starfleet's business.”
“We have reason to believe that those acts were not between two consenting adults. My show has featured experts who agree that, based on the evidence presented in the video, Mr. Scorpius' genitals are not those of an adult ma-”
“That's quite enough, Mr. Harding. I didn't agree to appear on your show to discuss one of my crewmen's genitals. If you're going to continue to turn this egregious invasion of Lieutenants Scorpius and Braca's privacy into a source of ad revenue, you will have to find another man to get your sound bites from.” Kirk cuts the comm link.
-
“Gentlemen, take a seat.” They sit-Scorpius is still steaming mad and Braca looks oddly proud of himself even as he tries not to stain Kirk's furniture with his blood. “Now, let me start by asking, what the hell were you thinking?”
“It was self-defense,” Braca says.
“You sucker-punched Ensign Loren while he was eating lunch.”
“I perceived a threat and dealt with it accordingly.”
“And that included inviting your boyfriend over to deal with Loren's pals?”
Scorpius holds up a hand-his glove is coated with dried blood. “I acted of my own volition.”
“That I'm quite sure,” Kirk says. “I don't think there's a man aboard this vessel who could make you do anything you didn't want to.”
“Thank you, captain.”
“That wasn't a compliment.” Kirk folds his hands, resting them on top of his desk. “You know what your problem is, Mr. Scorpius? You have no sense of loyalty. I went to bat for you on Harding's show. I put my neck on the line to protect your dignity. And this is how you repay me. How exactly do you think moral guardians like Harding are going to spin your court-martial?”
-
“Jim, you can't court-martial these boys.”
“Bones.” Jim puts down his padd. “They instigated a fight with three other crew mates. Scorpius would've beaten Roberts into a coma if Spock and Stark hadn't pulled him off.”
“That's true. I'm not denying that. But the circumstances...”
“The circumstances, Dr. McCoy, are that we've got three men in sickbay beaten without provocation by-”
“That's not true. Braca was provoked and-and a man in his condition could hardly be-”
“What condition would that be?”
“Traumatized. He's been through a great deal lately. Frankly, I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier. In fact, I'd been seriously considering putting him in therapy when this incident occurred. For reasons of mental health, I'd say he isn't liable for his actions. Especially considering what Loren said.”
“And Mr. Scorpius? Are you telling me you let two mentally unstable, deeply traumatized crew members go without treatment?”
“No. I didn't say that. Mr. Scorpius is in impeccable mental health.” Kirk snorts. “But there is the small matter of his Scarran heritage.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Forget I ever said anything.”
“Bones.”
“It's not my secret to tell.”
“If there's something about Scorpius' Scarran biology that makes him attack people indiscriminately, then I need to know about it.”
“It's not the biology that's the secret. I've been told something in confidence by a patient about their personal life that I couldn't possibly tell you without a serious breach of professional ethics. But... if we're speaking in the realm of the hypothetical...”
“Which we are. Of course.”
“Then I could tell you that a hypothetical Scarran male would hypothetically be compelled biologically to defend a mate with undue force-if he was hypothetically bonded to that mate through a Scarran blood vow.”
“And this hypothetical Scarran male, he would have no control over this impulse?”
“Not at first, no. But over time, he would learn how to control it. Hypothetically, of course.”
“Of course. And if this hypothetical male were to be court-martialled for assaulting someone due to this impulse, he would have a pretty strong defense.”
“And a pretty strong case for species-based discrimination.”
“So it would be in Starfleet's best interest not to pursue disciplinary action against the hypothetical Scarran.” Kirk leans back in his chair, scratching at his chin. “I don't know if we can trust Loren, Roberts, and LuPone not to go above my head with this.”
“Well, right now, it seems Loren, Roberts, and LuPone are less concerned with getting justice and more concerned about no one else hearing that they got the tar beaten out of them by a couple of fairies.”
-
The sex tape scandal and its accompanying ass-kicking fade slowly from the crew's consciousness, but Kirk's troubles with the Sebaceans don't end there.
“Lieutenant, take a seat.” She sits, not exactly quaking in her standard issue boots. If anything, she looks inconvenienced. “You understand why you're here.”
“Not entirely, no.”
“I received a number of complaints about your hand-to-hand combat tutorials.”
“I warned them about the difficulty level. If they're sore, that's their own fault.”
“The complaints were about your... teaching methods.”
“Ah, I admit I was probably a bit harsh the first lesson, but if they came back the second week they would see-”
Kirk holds up a hand. “Lieutenant Sun, you called Humans 'weak.'”
“Yes.”
He clearly isn't getting close to getting through to her. “You said, according to one complaint, 'As a whole, the Human species is relatively weak.'”
“Yes.”
“You don't see the problem with making such a statement.”
“No.”
“But, if someone said, 'As a whole, the Sebacean species is relatively weak,' would you have a problem with that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You see, that's the same as when you said Humans are weak.”
Sun shakes her head, wrinkling her forehead. “It's completely different.”
“How? How are those two statements different?”
“Well, one is the truth and the other is not.”
Kirk sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. “My point, Mr. Sun, is that it is wrong to make broad, sweeping generalizations about a species. Or any group of people.”
“Even if they're true?”
“That's why it's wrong. Broad, sweeping generalizations are never true. Especially when they're about people.”
“So, you wouldn't say that Vulcans are logical or that Sebaceans are hierarchical?” She doesn't leave him room to answer. “Because that's exactly what my textbooks at the Academy said.”
“But saying it about Humans doesn't make that right. That's just reverse spacism.”
Sun rolls her eyes. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”
“Permission granted.”
“Captain, I sincerely believe that the future of Starfleet as a military organization depends on Humans acknowledging their inherent physical weakness. If Humans continue to believe that they are normal-that they are the default sentient being-they will continue to overestimate their capabilities, they will continue to make stupid decisions, and they will continue to die at appalling rates in landing parties.”
“Human weakness isn't what killed your crew mates. And using their deaths to support your spacist agenda is... Do you think I like writing letters of consolation to parents?”
“With the frequency that you write them, I would say, yes.”
-
“It's that damn girl!” Jim says, climbing off the biobed. “The Peacekeeper.”
Across sickbay, Spock raises an eyebrow. “I fail to see how Lieutenant Sun could be responsible for your physiological state.”
Bones snorts. “That's your problem, Mr. Spock. You don't get how a beautiful woman could get a man's blood pumping a little faster.”
“It's not that,” Jim says. “Commanding her and the other two Sebaceans is like herding cats. They keep scratching and pissing on me.”
“Captain?” Spock asks.
“Figuratively, Mr. Spock.”
“You ever have any troubles with the other one?” Kirk asks McCoy. “I know he likes to hang around here.”
“Stark? No, he's good kid. A little squirrelly, but he's good with the dying. Makes it easier on them somehow. Although, now that you mention it, I do find him hiding in the supply cabinets sometimes. I don't know what that's about.”
“He finds confined spaces comforting.” At their curious looks, Spock adds, “I would assume.”
Kirk shakes his head. “That's nothing. Scorpius is ruthless, Sun is smug, and Braca follows them both around like a puppy dog.”
“Captain, you're mixing mammalian metaphors.”
“What?” Kirk mouths.
“A few minutes ago they were cats and now Braca's a puppy,” McCoy translates.
“Ah. Fair enough. Spock, uh, have you had any trouble working with Scorpius? You are his direct superior.”
“Mr. Scorpius is, as you said, ruthless. He thinks of little but himself and now it seems Lieutenant Braca. However his job performance is adequate. My only complaint would be that he frequently ignores the chain of command to gain approval for his creative interpretations of Starfleet's sentient subject policy.”
“He goes over your head?” Kirk asks.
“Yes, I believe that is the Human expression.”
“Straight to Admiral Pike, I'd imagine,” Bones says.
“That assumption would be correct, doctor.”
“You and Chris are close. You served under him for years,” Jim says. “I'm sure if you asked he would redirect Scorpius' requests back to you.”
“That is highly doubtful. My professional relationship with the admiral is far less extensive than Scorpius' personal relationship with him.”
“You know,” McCoy starts, “for an orphan, Scorpius sure does benefit from nepotism.”
“Doctor, I believe the more appropriate word for this situation would be 'cronyism.'”
“I know what word I wanted. Pike's practically a father to Scorpius. Hell, he's even listed as the kid's emergency contact.”
“And Pike no doubt feels a great debt of gratitude to Scorpius,” Jim adds. “That fancy wheelchair he designed gave Chris his life back.”
“Time will tell whether Scorpius' invention has a lasting, positive effect on Admiral Pike's quality of life,” Spock says.
“I think someone's a little mad they didn't think of it first.”
“Anger is a Human emotion, which I do not experience. And if I were to experience Human emotion, would happiness not be the most logical one for this situation given the profound effect Scorpius' invention has on Pike's life even in the short-term?”
“Human emotions are rarely logical.”
“Nor are the emotions of most sentient species-one of many things I have discovered aboard the Enterprise.”
“Somehow I don't think that's what Starfleet has in mind when they talk about a mission of discovery.”
“Nonsense,” Bones says. “We're out here to discover each other as much as we are to discover new species. It's not just finding 'strange, new life' or 'life but not as we know it' that counts as discovery. It's working together, living in close quarters, finding out what makes someone tick. Those are maybe the most important discoveries of all, especially with the kids from Peacekeeper Space on board.”
“They seem to be trying their damnedest to 'discover' what makes me tick,” Jim says. “Between the three of them, they're sending me to an early grave, I swear.”
“You don't need to tell me that,” Bone says. “I saw your bioreadings.”
“It's that girl. She's impulsive, stubborn, convinced she's right, plays fast and loose with regulations, and what's worse she drags half the crew along into her half-baked crusades.”
“Well, I can see why she makes you anxious. In a few years, she'll have your job.”
“I have to agree with the doctor,” Spock says. “If your promotion is any indication, those are exactly the qualities Starfleet looks for in the captain of the flagship.”
“You can't possibly be comparing me to...” Kirk shakes his head. “She was naked on the bridge!”
“As were you.”
“You heard about that?”
“Jim.” McCoy lays a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Everyone's heard about that.”
“That was a diplomatic necessity. For the good of the Federation.”
“I imagine Lieutenant Sun believes the same about her incident of nudity,” Spock says.
“Sometimes the things we hate in others are the very things that make us who we are,” Bones says.
“Self-loathing is a rather common Human emotion.”
Kirk looks at his chief medical officer and then at his second-in-command. “I don't think I like the two of you ganging up on me with insight.”
“Insight, huh?” McCoy grins openly. “I got something in my quarters that makes insight go down nice and easy.” He wraps an arm around Jim's shoulders, leading him out of sickbay. “Real, gen-yoo-ine Kentucky bourbon. Single barrel.”
“If that's what the doctor orders...”
McCoy looks over his shoulder. “You're coming, too, Spock. I can't keep the insight coming all night on my own.”
“Vulcans do not drink alcohol,” Spock says. “Even if it is 'real, genuine Kentucky bourbon.'”
“Well, we'll just have to rustle you up some of that fizzy water you like so much. The kind you Vulcans think the rest of us don't know gets you drunk.”
“Altair water does not have an intoxicating effect on Vulcans.”
“Prove it. My quarters. Now. You can even bring that silly chess set of yours.”
“You play?” Kirk asks.
“No, but you do. And I'm too much of a scientist to miss an opportunity to test the age-old question of whether a Human can beat a Vulcan in a game of logic when they're both three sheets to the wind.”
“A question the medical research community is no doubt waiting with bated breath to see resolved,” Spock says, coming up to Jim's side.
“Are you sassin' me, Spock?” McCoy glances at Jim. “I'm being sassed by a Vulcan in my own sickbay.”
“Let's get out of here.” Jim smiles at Spock. “Before Dr. McCoy is shattered by humiliation.”
“Agreed, captain.”
Next Chapter
Chapter Title: Kirk: A Young Man Goes to War
Author: katiemariie
Artist: azuremonkey
Mixer: jactrades
Mixer: pearlstar178
Beta: Renn
Fandom: Star Trek: TOS/Farscape
Word Count: 5877
Rating: R
Warnings: Strong language, violence, ableism, cissexism
“Love. You're better off without it, and I'm better off without mine. This vessel, I give, she takes. She won't permit me my life. I've got to live hers.”
-Kirk, “The Naked Time”
-
It was supposed to be a peace mission. It was supposed to be a privilege. Kirk was the only fledge cadet chosen to witness the signing of the peace treaty between the Federation and Axanar. The other cadets were all upperclassmen, but Kirk was special.
Kirk was the only one who made it back home.
They were diverted to some distant part of the galaxy Kirk had never even heard of. He still isn't completely sure how the Enterprise found it, but the instructions they sent via subspace were light years ahead of anything Starfleet had or even knew about. The ships there-in the sector of space the Enterprise stumbled upon-they could achieve faster-than-light travel while in regular space. Hetch drive, they called it. Combining hetch and warp drives had a multiplicative effect; with one or another, it would take seventy years to reach that other side of the rainbow, but together... It was as simple as traveling to Mars for a three-day weekend.
One moment they were in the alpha quadrant, the next in the middle of a battle between the Enterprise and a fleet of giant, bulbous black ships in an expanse of stars never charted.
Kirk and any other available bodies on the Republic were beamed aboard one of the alien vessels. He remembers protesting on the transporter pad. “I don't have any combat training.”
The quartermaster handed him a phaser. “Can you hit the broadside of a barn?”
Kirk shrugged. “I'm from Iowa.”
“Good on ya, lad. Keep it set on stun.”
“Stun? Stun what?”
He felt the tingle of transport and when he materialized, he shot at the first creature he saw-a large, hulking dinosaur-like beast. And it disappeared. (Years later, when looking over the nomination papers for his Palm Leaf, Kirk learned the creature's name: Wolesh. He doesn't like to remember that.) Before firing off his next shot, Kirk checked his phaser-set on stun. That shouldn't have happened. The next few fell just the same.
It was clean and easy and for a while it was almost fun, like a holo-game.
But they didn't stop coming. They came in groups of ten, one after another for hours. They had to see that it was a lost cause-they had to see their comrades dying, but they wouldn't stop. They wouldn't be captured.
Kirk found a communications officer pleading with an alien commander over comms, but the universal translator was useless with them. (Kirk knows now that the Scarrans could understand every word they said and still rejected their terms. Sometimes that makes him feel better.)
Soon the vessel was cleared and then the whole fleet. Starfleet scavenged their technology, learned their weaknesses and their threat, and then... the threat was neutralized.
The Scarran species was gone. Except for a boy-a half-breed hidden away by Starfleet Medical whom no one thought would live to see adulthood.
Things could get back to normal. Kirk returned to the Academy and Starfleet returned to diplomacy and exploration, establishing treaties of peace or non-aggression with species in the newly-discovered sector of space. The Peacekeepers were quick to form an alliance after hearing that Humans were of the same genetic stock. The Federation was quick to accept for much the same reason. There were concessions, of course. The child soldiers would have to go. The Federation could reconcile itself with what the Peacekeepers did to the other species they ruled, but the images of little Human children sleeping with pulse rifles in their cots weren't quick to leave the Terran collective consciousness.
Kirk blames the press. He does that a lot now.
It seems nowadays a Starfleet officer can't piss without a press release. The whole damn fleet's immobilized by fear of setting off a media frenzy on even the most trivial of matters. Even worse, the admiralty seems to be going out of its way to generate positive buzz. It's beginning to interfere with the fleet's ability to protect the Federation and explore the galaxy.
Not to speak of the danger it places officers in.
What if, god forbid, there's a lab accident that starts a fire and the only person who can reach the extinguisher is the half-breed? Crew would die, because Lieutenant Scorpius can't withstand the heat. The same goes for the two Sebaceans.
Kirk isn't against having aliens serving aboard his ship-Spock makes a fine first officer and would make for a good friend if he were the type to make friends-but when their... biological particularities endanger his crew and the Federation itself, that's where he draws the line.
And he is in no way bitter that none of these kids are at all grateful for what he and Spock and Scotty went through for their freedom and all the good men who died during the Scarran onslaught so they could serve in Starfleet.
(That's not entirely true. (Not the Kirk not being bitter part. That's the god's honest truth.) The twitchy one with the mask mourns the war dead with every meal, but he hardly counts given that he mourns all the dead all the time and he's not even in Starfleet. Kirk doesn't know who this person is beyond that his people were slaves and he's some kind of mystic contracted by the Federation to serve as chaplain. Kirk would care to learn more, but the man is so useless and irrelevant to everything happening right now that it is honestly not worth the effort. Bones says the kid's something special; Kirk thinks their old country doctor likes having someone to share death with.)
Kirk is self-aware enough to know that he hates them a little for being young and on their first assignment and looking forward to the rest of their lives. Kirk feels that way about Uhura and that Sulu from botany and Spock's relief officer from Russia. Yet he won't admit that this resentment isn't colored by the same righteous anger over what he lost for them. He can't begin to acknowledge that, when he looks at the two-and-a-half Sebaceans smiling as they eat their lunch together, he wants scream, “I saved you from that world and I was burned by it and none of you even have the decency to-to-to-” Kirk can't acknowledge it, he can't say it, so he powers through it by force of personality, joining them at their sacred table.
“Do you mind if I take a seat?” he asks all smiles.
“No, of course not, captain,” Braca says-servile in a way that makes Kirk's skin crawl.
Kirk swings his leg over the bench, hitting something hard that emits a clang and an 'eep!' When he looks, he sees Stark under the table eating a sandwich. Caught, he scuttles up to the surface, taking a seat between Sun and the Starchild. “Captain! I'm-I'm sorry my face hit your foot. I wasn't looking. I must admit I have a very inconvenient face at times. I'm told.”
“It's not a problem,” Kirk says. “I'm the one who should be sorry, it was my foot that hit your face. I should have looked where I was going. ...Is eating under the table a custom amongst your people?”
Stark shakes his head.
“I knew a Banik who did that,” Braca says. “My commanding officer's would crouch under her desk while she was eating to lick the crumbs off her boots.” He recalls this like a cherished childhood memory, which it probably is.
“Stark!” Bones calls from across the mess hall. “I didn't know you ate lunch. I never see you in here. 'Scuse me, Jim.” He takes a seat. “Figures it'd have to be the captain to finally be brave enough to sit with y'all. You know everyone's terribly intimidated by you.”
“Oh,” Sun says. “We know.”
“Then why do you all sit together then?”
“Why do all the Humans sit together?”
“Touché. Say, did anybody grab any hot sauce?” At their blank looks... “Oh, right. Wrong crowd.”
Walking behind Scorpius, Scotty stops mid-stride and stares at the table. “I dinna know we were allowed to sit here.”
Bones scooches over. “C'mon, Scotty. They don't bite.”
“If that's alright with all of ye...”
“By all means,” Scorpius says.
Scotty grins widely. “Thank you kindly. This is a nice table.”
“It is the best table,” Braca says matter-of-factly.
“Is that so?” McCoy asks.
“Yes.”
“Braca tested all the tables our first night aboard,” Aeryn says, smirking, “and presented me with the best one.”
“As a token of friendship and to signify my confidence in her leadership abilities.” It isn't often that a male officer defers so openly to a younger female officer. It isn't often that Kirk's officers give each other tables either. Is that a Peacekeeper thing?
“So, where are you all from?” Jim asks. “I know you were all born on starships, but where were you settled?”
“England,” Braca says.
“Oh. Where?”
“Off the western coast of Europe.”
“No. I mean, where in England?”
“Surrey, sir.”
“And you, Mr. Scorpius?”
“Buckinghamshire.”
“And you're from England, as well, Lieutenant Sun?”
“No,” she answers. “France.”
“Really? I was sure I detected a British accent.”
“This is how everyone speaks Standard in France. At least in Haute-Saône.”
“My people were placed in Australia,” Stark says. “The Federation tried to put us on Vulcan, but our temperaments... were not compatible. I think it was the crying. I've found most Federation species are intimidated by men who weep openly... Humans among them.”
“I wouldna say we're intimidated,” Scotty says.
“It's just we've got different standards of behavior,” Bones explains. “Crying is something a man does alone. In private.”
“Like masturbation,” Aeryn says. At their shocked expressions... “Don't tell me you don't do that.”
“Uh...”
“So, er, er...” Scotty stammers. “What do your parents do?” He directs this unfortunate question to Scorpius, of course.
“Are you frelling kidding me?” Scorpius asks in an impossibly even tone.
“I mean, er...”
“My parents,” Aeryn cuts in, “are flitter pilots.”
“I was raised as a proper Peacekeeper-” Aeryn gives Braca's shoulder a shove. “-so I was never introduced to my gamete donors.”
“I was sold away from my mother as soon as I was weaned,” Stark says. “I haven't been able to find her.”
“Geez,” Bones grumbles. “Way to bring the room down, Scotty.”
“Sorry,” Scott says. “I dinna know it was such a sensitive subject.”
“Captain.” Spock steps behind Kirk. “There's a matter on the bridge that requires your attention.”
“Of course.” Kirk extricates himself from the bench, managing not to maim anyone in the process. “Mr. Spock, have you eaten lunch yet?”
“No, I have not.”
“I'll handle matters on the bridge. You take my place. I'm sure you and Mr. Scorpius will have a lot to talk about.”
Walking towards the turbolift, Kirk swears he can hear Scorpius mutter, “Are you frelling kidding me?”
-
Kirk is willing to stake credits on the first man to say, “It's lonely at the top,” being the captain of his own vessel. Kirk has never had a hard time making friends. He's extremely charming and endlessly likable, if you ask him. But finding true intimacy with another person now only comes to him fleetingly in the company of women, in ships passing in the night. And since Kirk can't fraternize with the women in his crew... well, let's just say he isn't a very active seaport lately.
Between shore leaves and the random assortment of women he meets on missions, Kirk's need for strong, emotional contact with another being goes unaddressed. He can mingle and chat with his senior officers, but there's no one on board with whom he can share his doubts and insecurities and simple rage. The war is something that stays locked up inside his head.
The only two people who were there, who saw the endless parade of dead Scarrans, are Spock and Scotty. Kirk can't exactly go pouring his heart out to a Vulcan (that might actually constitute some kind of harassment, but he's not sure) and, while Scotty would no doubt understand what Kirk's going through, the closer Jim gets to him, the harder it is to maintain plausible deniability of knowing that Scotty is an alcoholic.
Kirk supposes he could go to Bones about it-he really does like the guy-but spilling all of his secrets to the one person on board who can relieve him of command with impunity doesn't seem that wise of an idea. Kirk has already lost command of his ship once since their mission began a few months ago and he isn't willing to repeat the experience.
The polywater was unexpected-the effect it had on Jim even more so. He always thought he loved the Enterprise; he never thought he would abandon his seat commanding her and spend the next two hours as she hurtled into a planet berating her for stealing his youth, his personal life, and joy for living. He also never expected he would break just about all of his knuckles pummeling her bulkheads. All while anthropomorphizing her as a woman.
“What do you suppose that means?” Jim asks, coming up for air.
Natira cradles the back of his head. “I imagine you have some unresolved issues about women.” She pulls tight on his hair, making him see stars. “You're welcome to work them out on me.”
It seems like that's the answer-that he's finally found someone to share himself with, to become a better person alongside. Then while he's sleeping, she tries to eat his eyeballs.
Another relationship ends, another begins.
“I am the female of the species, you know that don't you?”
“No, but now that now that I do...”
After, when they're putting their boots back on, Jim asks, “Do you ever punch your ship?”
Staanz grins lopsidedly. “Only to make her run.”
“So she's a female then?”
“Yeah. Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Gender and sex aren't as, er, constant in my culture as there are in yours.”
Jim holds up a finger, about to ask if Staanz will still be the female of the species tomorrow morning, but finds that he doesn't really care. That's new.
“What?”
“Nothing... Do you ever resent your ship?”
“Resent her? She's my home, my livelihood, my purpose. She's the only thing keeping me from starvin' or getting caught up by the Peacekeepers. ...Er, forget I said that last part, would ya, Starfleet?”
“It's forgotten.”
“Good. Throw me my coat, eh? Thanks. You don't...” She pulls her coat on over her head. “You don't feel the same about your lady, the Enterprise?”
“I thought I did, but now... It seems like I've dedicated my entire life to keeping her afloat and for nothing in return.”
“But she keeps you afloat, too.”
“If that's true, why do I feel like I'm drowning?”
That level of insight is frankly terrifying and Kirk finds himself almost relieved when he and Staanz are forced to go their separate ways.
He's on his own until shore leave six months later, and after spending it in the arms of two different women (one who tried to gobble him up (literally) and another who tried to turn him into an illicit hallucinogenic), Kirk is beginning to think burying his worries in the closest available bosom isn't too healthy for him or his Starfleet career. He gets confirmation (and a minor heart attack) when Scotty greets him back on board with, “Capt'n, have you heard about the sex tape?”
“Sex tape?” Jim asks, feeling all the blood drain from his face.
“Aye, it's all over the intrafleet network.”
“Who made it public? Natira? The other Natira? Elaan? Linfer?” Those are the only women Kirk remembers making a sex tape with, but there could be any number of women who filmed him without his knowledge.
“I could nae say, but my credits are on Braca.”
“Braca? Helmsman Braca?”
“Aye. Seems the type who'd want a few moments of fame... even if it was for giving it to the Starchild.”
Kirk takes a breath, glad that it's two of his lieutenants starring in Starfleet's fastest circulating sex tape and not him, before clenching at the realization that two of his lieutenants are starring in Starfleet's fastest circulating sex tape. My god, the paperwork.
-
“Gentlemen, take a seat.” They sit-Scorpius looks steaming mad and Braca looks like he's got two months to live. “Now, let me start by saying that neither of you are in trouble. Our preliminary investigation has determined that it was someone employed at your hotel who rigged the room with film equipment and distributed the video to the press. And, while it is certainly embarrassing for Starfleet, nothing you did on that video was illegal. Not on that planet anyway.” His attempt at humor doesn't brighten their moods. Braca doesn't even chortle and he laughs at every joke (no matter how funny) told by anyone of a higher rank. “Starfleet and the local authorities are pursuing a full investigation and if-when the perpetrator is apprehended, the district attorney intends on prosecuting them to the fullest extent of the planet's law.”
“Will we have to testify?” Scorpius asks.
“I'm not sure. But if you do, it will be through subspace communication. The planet makes special allowances for victims of sex crimes. Now, I will completely understand if either of you wish to transfer to another posting. I can't guarantee that it will be to another starship or that Starfleet will be able to place you together, but-”
“We're not leaving,” Scorpius says.
Kirk looks to Braca, struggling to make eye contact as the lieutenant stares down at the desk between them. “Braca, is that what you want?”
“Yes, captain. I shan't give up a position aboard the Federation flagship when everyone at my new posting will have seen the recording as well. And I have friends here.”
“Lieutenant, I assure you, not every member of Starfleet, or even every member of this crew has seen the recording.”
“Captain, I must respectfully disagree. Even if they haven't seen the recording, they know what happens in it because their friends have told them about it.”
“I can't stop anyone from talking about the video, but Starfleet has removed it from their servers. Members of my crew found in possession of the video will be punished. If you begin to face any harassment, report it directly to me and I will-”
“Treat our complaints with the same gravity as you have in the past,” Scorpius finishes, sneering.
“What exactly do you mean by that, lieutenant?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“You said it. And we both know you never say anything if you know you won't get something out of it.”
Scorpius leans forward in his chair. “I merely meant that perhaps your process of addressing crew complaints is less efficient when said crew are, shall we say, less than Human.”
“If you're implying that I take the complaints of my non-Human crew any less seriously than that of my Human-”
“I wasn't implying, I was stating rather directly. I thought I was being quite clear about that.”
“Mr. Scorpius,” Kirk says sharply. “I realize that you have recently been violated in a horrific and most public fashion and are likely in a good deal of distress, but you are still a member of my crew and will behave as such-and that includes giving your captain his due respect. Do you understand?”
“Aye aye, captain.”
-
Kirk chafes underneath his dress uniform. Doing damage control from his ready room has never been his idea of a good time and given the subject matter...
It's the hottest topic on Terra, so he makes the main civilian newswire. He realizes that Starfleet wants to reach the largest audience possible, but that wire's head correspondent is known for a mean conservative streak.
“Captain Kirk,” the correspondent says, beginning the interview portion, “how would you respond to claims that the acts depicted on the recording are unbecoming of a Starfleet officer?”
“I would respond by asking those people how they know what's on that recording.”
“In a poll conducted on our website, we've found that most of our viewers learned about the recording's content from communiques sent by a religious organization or citizen's group they belong to-most of which were warning against allowing their children to join Starfleet. How do you respond to that?”
“I would say that Starfleet neither encourages nor condemns the acts on that recording.”
“So Starfleet doesn't condemn pedophilia?”
“Pedophilia? To the best of my knowledge there were no children on that recording.”
“Except for the Starchild.”
“The Starchild-Lieutenant Scorpius is a twenty-nine-year-old man who I am sure would appreciate a new nickname.”
“Due to his hybrid genetics and unique physiology, age might not be an accurate predictor of his mental and physical maturity. For all intents and purposes, Lieutenant Scorpius could still be a child.”
“That's ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
“Lieutenant Scorpius is not a child. You and your newswire's continued need to infantilize him denies him the respect he deserves as a member of my crew, as the Federation's pre-eminent neurobiological cyberneticist, and as a sexual being capable of healthy, adult relationships.”
“Healthy adult relationships? Have you seen the tape?”
“No. It would be unbecoming of a Starfleet captain to watch his crewmen engage in sex acts filmed without their permission.”
“So you are not aware that those sex acts include...” The correspondent reads from a padd, “nipple play, fisting, biting, ingestion of bodily fluids including blood, bondage, spanking, erotic asphyxiation, role play, and acts that can only be described as a fusion of sado-masochism and Russian ballet.”
“As I said, I haven't watched the tape and I doubt I ever will, because those acts, as long as they were between two consenting adults, are none of my or Starfleet's business.”
“We have reason to believe that those acts were not between two consenting adults. My show has featured experts who agree that, based on the evidence presented in the video, Mr. Scorpius' genitals are not those of an adult ma-”
“That's quite enough, Mr. Harding. I didn't agree to appear on your show to discuss one of my crewmen's genitals. If you're going to continue to turn this egregious invasion of Lieutenants Scorpius and Braca's privacy into a source of ad revenue, you will have to find another man to get your sound bites from.” Kirk cuts the comm link.
-
“Gentlemen, take a seat.” They sit-Scorpius is still steaming mad and Braca looks oddly proud of himself even as he tries not to stain Kirk's furniture with his blood. “Now, let me start by asking, what the hell were you thinking?”
“It was self-defense,” Braca says.
“You sucker-punched Ensign Loren while he was eating lunch.”
“I perceived a threat and dealt with it accordingly.”
“And that included inviting your boyfriend over to deal with Loren's pals?”
Scorpius holds up a hand-his glove is coated with dried blood. “I acted of my own volition.”
“That I'm quite sure,” Kirk says. “I don't think there's a man aboard this vessel who could make you do anything you didn't want to.”
“Thank you, captain.”
“That wasn't a compliment.” Kirk folds his hands, resting them on top of his desk. “You know what your problem is, Mr. Scorpius? You have no sense of loyalty. I went to bat for you on Harding's show. I put my neck on the line to protect your dignity. And this is how you repay me. How exactly do you think moral guardians like Harding are going to spin your court-martial?”
-
“Jim, you can't court-martial these boys.”
“Bones.” Jim puts down his padd. “They instigated a fight with three other crew mates. Scorpius would've beaten Roberts into a coma if Spock and Stark hadn't pulled him off.”
“That's true. I'm not denying that. But the circumstances...”
“The circumstances, Dr. McCoy, are that we've got three men in sickbay beaten without provocation by-”
“That's not true. Braca was provoked and-and a man in his condition could hardly be-”
“What condition would that be?”
“Traumatized. He's been through a great deal lately. Frankly, I'm surprised this didn't happen earlier. In fact, I'd been seriously considering putting him in therapy when this incident occurred. For reasons of mental health, I'd say he isn't liable for his actions. Especially considering what Loren said.”
“And Mr. Scorpius? Are you telling me you let two mentally unstable, deeply traumatized crew members go without treatment?”
“No. I didn't say that. Mr. Scorpius is in impeccable mental health.” Kirk snorts. “But there is the small matter of his Scarran heritage.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Forget I ever said anything.”
“Bones.”
“It's not my secret to tell.”
“If there's something about Scorpius' Scarran biology that makes him attack people indiscriminately, then I need to know about it.”
“It's not the biology that's the secret. I've been told something in confidence by a patient about their personal life that I couldn't possibly tell you without a serious breach of professional ethics. But... if we're speaking in the realm of the hypothetical...”
“Which we are. Of course.”
“Then I could tell you that a hypothetical Scarran male would hypothetically be compelled biologically to defend a mate with undue force-if he was hypothetically bonded to that mate through a Scarran blood vow.”
“And this hypothetical Scarran male, he would have no control over this impulse?”
“Not at first, no. But over time, he would learn how to control it. Hypothetically, of course.”
“Of course. And if this hypothetical male were to be court-martialled for assaulting someone due to this impulse, he would have a pretty strong defense.”
“And a pretty strong case for species-based discrimination.”
“So it would be in Starfleet's best interest not to pursue disciplinary action against the hypothetical Scarran.” Kirk leans back in his chair, scratching at his chin. “I don't know if we can trust Loren, Roberts, and LuPone not to go above my head with this.”
“Well, right now, it seems Loren, Roberts, and LuPone are less concerned with getting justice and more concerned about no one else hearing that they got the tar beaten out of them by a couple of fairies.”
-
The sex tape scandal and its accompanying ass-kicking fade slowly from the crew's consciousness, but Kirk's troubles with the Sebaceans don't end there.
“Lieutenant, take a seat.” She sits, not exactly quaking in her standard issue boots. If anything, she looks inconvenienced. “You understand why you're here.”
“Not entirely, no.”
“I received a number of complaints about your hand-to-hand combat tutorials.”
“I warned them about the difficulty level. If they're sore, that's their own fault.”
“The complaints were about your... teaching methods.”
“Ah, I admit I was probably a bit harsh the first lesson, but if they came back the second week they would see-”
Kirk holds up a hand. “Lieutenant Sun, you called Humans 'weak.'”
“Yes.”
He clearly isn't getting close to getting through to her. “You said, according to one complaint, 'As a whole, the Human species is relatively weak.'”
“Yes.”
“You don't see the problem with making such a statement.”
“No.”
“But, if someone said, 'As a whole, the Sebacean species is relatively weak,' would you have a problem with that?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You see, that's the same as when you said Humans are weak.”
Sun shakes her head, wrinkling her forehead. “It's completely different.”
“How? How are those two statements different?”
“Well, one is the truth and the other is not.”
Kirk sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. “My point, Mr. Sun, is that it is wrong to make broad, sweeping generalizations about a species. Or any group of people.”
“Even if they're true?”
“That's why it's wrong. Broad, sweeping generalizations are never true. Especially when they're about people.”
“So, you wouldn't say that Vulcans are logical or that Sebaceans are hierarchical?” She doesn't leave him room to answer. “Because that's exactly what my textbooks at the Academy said.”
“But saying it about Humans doesn't make that right. That's just reverse spacism.”
Sun rolls her eyes. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”
“Permission granted.”
“Captain, I sincerely believe that the future of Starfleet as a military organization depends on Humans acknowledging their inherent physical weakness. If Humans continue to believe that they are normal-that they are the default sentient being-they will continue to overestimate their capabilities, they will continue to make stupid decisions, and they will continue to die at appalling rates in landing parties.”
“Human weakness isn't what killed your crew mates. And using their deaths to support your spacist agenda is... Do you think I like writing letters of consolation to parents?”
“With the frequency that you write them, I would say, yes.”
-
“It's that damn girl!” Jim says, climbing off the biobed. “The Peacekeeper.”
Across sickbay, Spock raises an eyebrow. “I fail to see how Lieutenant Sun could be responsible for your physiological state.”
Bones snorts. “That's your problem, Mr. Spock. You don't get how a beautiful woman could get a man's blood pumping a little faster.”
“It's not that,” Jim says. “Commanding her and the other two Sebaceans is like herding cats. They keep scratching and pissing on me.”
“Captain?” Spock asks.
“Figuratively, Mr. Spock.”
“You ever have any troubles with the other one?” Kirk asks McCoy. “I know he likes to hang around here.”
“Stark? No, he's good kid. A little squirrelly, but he's good with the dying. Makes it easier on them somehow. Although, now that you mention it, I do find him hiding in the supply cabinets sometimes. I don't know what that's about.”
“He finds confined spaces comforting.” At their curious looks, Spock adds, “I would assume.”
Kirk shakes his head. “That's nothing. Scorpius is ruthless, Sun is smug, and Braca follows them both around like a puppy dog.”
“Captain, you're mixing mammalian metaphors.”
“What?” Kirk mouths.
“A few minutes ago they were cats and now Braca's a puppy,” McCoy translates.
“Ah. Fair enough. Spock, uh, have you had any trouble working with Scorpius? You are his direct superior.”
“Mr. Scorpius is, as you said, ruthless. He thinks of little but himself and now it seems Lieutenant Braca. However his job performance is adequate. My only complaint would be that he frequently ignores the chain of command to gain approval for his creative interpretations of Starfleet's sentient subject policy.”
“He goes over your head?” Kirk asks.
“Yes, I believe that is the Human expression.”
“Straight to Admiral Pike, I'd imagine,” Bones says.
“That assumption would be correct, doctor.”
“You and Chris are close. You served under him for years,” Jim says. “I'm sure if you asked he would redirect Scorpius' requests back to you.”
“That is highly doubtful. My professional relationship with the admiral is far less extensive than Scorpius' personal relationship with him.”
“You know,” McCoy starts, “for an orphan, Scorpius sure does benefit from nepotism.”
“Doctor, I believe the more appropriate word for this situation would be 'cronyism.'”
“I know what word I wanted. Pike's practically a father to Scorpius. Hell, he's even listed as the kid's emergency contact.”
“And Pike no doubt feels a great debt of gratitude to Scorpius,” Jim adds. “That fancy wheelchair he designed gave Chris his life back.”
“Time will tell whether Scorpius' invention has a lasting, positive effect on Admiral Pike's quality of life,” Spock says.
“I think someone's a little mad they didn't think of it first.”
“Anger is a Human emotion, which I do not experience. And if I were to experience Human emotion, would happiness not be the most logical one for this situation given the profound effect Scorpius' invention has on Pike's life even in the short-term?”
“Human emotions are rarely logical.”
“Nor are the emotions of most sentient species-one of many things I have discovered aboard the Enterprise.”
“Somehow I don't think that's what Starfleet has in mind when they talk about a mission of discovery.”
“Nonsense,” Bones says. “We're out here to discover each other as much as we are to discover new species. It's not just finding 'strange, new life' or 'life but not as we know it' that counts as discovery. It's working together, living in close quarters, finding out what makes someone tick. Those are maybe the most important discoveries of all, especially with the kids from Peacekeeper Space on board.”
“They seem to be trying their damnedest to 'discover' what makes me tick,” Jim says. “Between the three of them, they're sending me to an early grave, I swear.”
“You don't need to tell me that,” Bone says. “I saw your bioreadings.”
“It's that girl. She's impulsive, stubborn, convinced she's right, plays fast and loose with regulations, and what's worse she drags half the crew along into her half-baked crusades.”
“Well, I can see why she makes you anxious. In a few years, she'll have your job.”
“I have to agree with the doctor,” Spock says. “If your promotion is any indication, those are exactly the qualities Starfleet looks for in the captain of the flagship.”
“You can't possibly be comparing me to...” Kirk shakes his head. “She was naked on the bridge!”
“As were you.”
“You heard about that?”
“Jim.” McCoy lays a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Everyone's heard about that.”
“That was a diplomatic necessity. For the good of the Federation.”
“I imagine Lieutenant Sun believes the same about her incident of nudity,” Spock says.
“Sometimes the things we hate in others are the very things that make us who we are,” Bones says.
“Self-loathing is a rather common Human emotion.”
Kirk looks at his chief medical officer and then at his second-in-command. “I don't think I like the two of you ganging up on me with insight.”
“Insight, huh?” McCoy grins openly. “I got something in my quarters that makes insight go down nice and easy.” He wraps an arm around Jim's shoulders, leading him out of sickbay. “Real, gen-yoo-ine Kentucky bourbon. Single barrel.”
“If that's what the doctor orders...”
McCoy looks over his shoulder. “You're coming, too, Spock. I can't keep the insight coming all night on my own.”
“Vulcans do not drink alcohol,” Spock says. “Even if it is 'real, genuine Kentucky bourbon.'”
“Well, we'll just have to rustle you up some of that fizzy water you like so much. The kind you Vulcans think the rest of us don't know gets you drunk.”
“Altair water does not have an intoxicating effect on Vulcans.”
“Prove it. My quarters. Now. You can even bring that silly chess set of yours.”
“You play?” Kirk asks.
“No, but you do. And I'm too much of a scientist to miss an opportunity to test the age-old question of whether a Human can beat a Vulcan in a game of logic when they're both three sheets to the wind.”
“A question the medical research community is no doubt waiting with bated breath to see resolved,” Spock says, coming up to Jim's side.
“Are you sassin' me, Spock?” McCoy glances at Jim. “I'm being sassed by a Vulcan in my own sickbay.”
“Let's get out of here.” Jim smiles at Spock. “Before Dr. McCoy is shattered by humiliation.”
“Agreed, captain.”
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