Fic: History | DCU/Star Trek | Kirk, Spock | PG-13 | 1/1
Title: History
Fandom: DCU/Star Trek
Characters: Kirk, Spock, mentions of all the Bats, several Supers, and various other heroes and villains
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,458
Summary: Spock takes Kirk to visit the Superhero Museum. If you know Spock's mother's surname, I think you know where this is going. :p
Disclaimer: DC, WB, and Paramount own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: This is crack. Pure, unadulterated, unapologetic CRACK! Consider yourselves warned. Also, this takes place some time during the original five-year mission, and I've moved DCU canon up a few years and given it an AU future. For the record, I *do* know who the dark haired woman in the photograph is. ^_~ (next to be finished and posted: "Lost Years" part 10 and the conclusion to "Confrontation, etc..." ^_^)
History
The sun was shining on the green in front of Starfleet Headquarters when Kirk caught up with his First Officer. “Alright, Spock, you said to meet here, what's all the fuss?”
“Good morning, Jim,” the Vulcan nodded curtly, his hands clasped behind his back. “I was hoping you might be up to an excursion today.”
“Excursion? What, to Death Valley? Meteor Crater? Yosemite? You know I've always wanted to try out El Capitan.”
“Hardly, Captain. I have a much more urban destination in mind.”
“Urban,” Kirk deadpanned as they turned to head toward the shuttle port. “We get three weeks of shore leave, and you want to spend your time in a city?”
“Not just a city. A museum.”
“Oh?” Kirk was already beginning to get antsy; it wasn't often that Spock played the man of intrigue.
“The Superhero Museum, to be exact.”
An eyebrow raised of its own accord. “Superheroes? Seriously?”
“Yes, Captain. Superheroes.”
For the briefest of moments, Jim thought he saw the glint of mischief in his friend's eyes. “All right, then. Let's go.”
* * * * *
“Welcome to the Superhero Museum,” the automated female voiced greeted them as they passed through the massive arched entrance. Kirk could swear the voice was a more dulcet version of their own ship's computer. “Since the dawn of humanity, there have been those that have risen above the norm, those that have transcended the abilities and expectations of those around them. Many became legends, some remained myths as their stories were lost to the ravages of time. But for many who rose up to begin the healing of the world after the Third World War and the Atomic Horror, their legacy became fixed in time, epic tales of triumph against the darkness recorded for future generations to behold. It is this sweeping epic that the Superhero Museum wishes to pass on. Our greatest wish is that all those who pass through these halls take these stories with them, learn from them, and are inspired to transcend expectations themselves.”
“Nice welcome,” Jim quipped as they stopped at the map of the museum, the floor plan projected upon a screen of shimmering, cascading smoke. “So, what's on the agenda?”
Raising an eyebrow as he lifted a finger to point out a certain wing of the museum on the wavering map, Spock answered simply, “The Bat Cave.”
“Lead on, then,” Kirk urged as the Vulcan started off toward the furthest east wing.
Along the way, they passed the Kryptonian exhibit, its entrance framed by towering crystalline monoliths perched at angles to one another, more dulcet tones welcoming visitors in both English and Kryptonian - which, until recently, had been a nearly dead language. Jim peered inside the brightly blue-white lit rooms briefly, spotting the crystalline memorials to both Kon-El, once Superboy, and Kara Zor-El, once Supergirl and later Superwoman. He figured the case for Superman himself must be further into the exhibit. Have to check that out later, he noted, his interest piqued; hadn't been a full-blooded Kryptonian around in almost fifty years.
Further down the main corridor, the two men passed the Green Lantern Corps exhibit, the entire hall lit up in bright greens, with splashes of other colors marking smaller exhibits surrounding the Corps' conflicts with the various other Corps. Kirk had always wondered about the Blackest Night War, not having had the opportunity to study the extended campaigns against the Red and Black Lantern Corps. Not exactly standard Starfleet education, of course.
His attention caught by the plaque at the entrance to the hall, he stopped, reading the Lanterns' Oath over again as if for the first time. “In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power, Green Lantern's light.” He smiled wistfully as he finished, wishing again as he had as a child that he could have received his own Power Ring. “Hey, Spock,” he called over his shoulder, jerking his thumb toward the exhibit, “look at thi-” But he realized his companion had already moved on without him, headed directly toward the final exhibit of this side of the museum. “Damn.”
Tearing himself away from the Lanterns exhibit, Kirk jogged through the crowd to catch up with Spock. “Hey,” he called out again as he reached the taller man. “You could wait a minute, you know.”
Spock only gave him another raised eyebrow as he continued on his path toward the Bat exhibit. “I do have a reason for coming here, Jim.”
“Okay, fine,” Kirk threw up his arms in mock surrender, falling into step with the Vulcan.
After passing the Themysciran exhibit and the Arrows exhibit, they finally reached their destination. The Bat Cave.
True to its name, this exhibit was dark, its entrance the gaping maw of a cave, with stalactites and stalagmites meeting and merging into columns. From within, the chattering of bats echoed eerily as a slight, cool breeze wisped out to meet them.
In stark contrast to the other exhibits, there was no greeting as they entered, no grand declaration of truths and honor, of heroism and home. Only the dark of the Cave, punctuated by pools of light illuminating memorial cases and small exhibits of gadgetry, weapons, and vehicles. The first case they passed held a variety of belts, covered in pouches, the second, a number of styles of grappling hooks and other equipment resembling rock climber's gear. Kirk had to admit he was somewhat impressed, even as he didn't have enough time to read all of the plaques as they swept by.
Seemingly on a mission, Spock ignored a number of cases, not even giving a look to the case for the fourth Robin, whose real name, as Jim read it from the plaque as they passed, was apparently Stephanie Brown. Also known as Spoiler for a time, she'd been murdered, and later returned in the Final Crisis, a time Kirk remembered had surrounded the resurrection from the grave of some ten thousand people.
Nor did Spock glance at the case belonging to fourth Bat Woman, Shayera Kyle, apparent granddaughter of the Catwoman, herself.
“Spock, what is it you're looking for, exactly?” Jim questioned as they passed yet another case, this one displaying the uniform of the second Bat Girl, Cassandra Cain. As intriguing as all this was, he couldn't help wondering just what had his friend so focused.
“You will see,” came the Vulcan's enigmatic reply.
Sighing, Kirk could only follow along and wait for whatever Spock had in store.
After making another turn in the museum's maze and passing several more cases, both with uniforms and gadgetry, Spock stopped, only one case shy of the more secluded exhibit containing the row of Batman cases. Looking up at the colorful, but empty uniform and the wax figure of a man in his twenties next to it, his eyes seemed to grow distant.
“Spock?” Jim prodded. “What is it?”
“This is it,” he said simply.
Kirk read off the plaque, “Richard Grayson. Born 1993, died 2087. A member of the world-renowned aerialist circus family, The Flying Graysons, until his parents' death in 2003, Dick Grayson was raised and trained as an acrobat. At the age of 12, he became the first Robin, partner to the first Batman. At age 19, he traded in the mantle of Robin for the identity of Nightwing, whose more famous uniform is displayed here.” Looking briefly up at the wax figure, he noted the blue bird-like figure sweeping across the black chest and down the arms to the fingers, then continued reading. “As Nightwing, Grayson patrolled the city of Blüdhaven until its destruction in 2018, later moving his crime-fighting operations to New York. For a brief time, he wore the mantel of the Batman, as shown in the Hall of the Bat, but otherwise remained Nightwing until his supposed retirement in 2045, at which time the mantel of Nightwing is speculated to have passed to Clark Harper, the son he shared with the Red Arrow, Roy Harper, and whose exact parentage is unknown.”
Kirk's brow furrowed as he looked to his friend. “All right. I give, Spock. You've led me all the way to the memorial case of this... Nightwing. What is this all about?”
Not tearing his own gaze away from the figure in the case, Spock lifted an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. “Jim, Richard Grayson... is my direct ancestor.”
“I'm sorry, your what? You mean...”
“My ancestor.” The Vulcan finally turned to look at Kirk, eying him as if the blonde man might not have heard him the first time. “He was my mother's great, great, great grandfather.”
“But... surely that's a coincidence of the name, I mean, didn't these... Bats... keep all of their genetic records sealed? Even change their surnames to protect their families, like a lot of vigilante heroes did?”
“Indeed not, Captain. I have spent the last three years searching the historical records and researching the available databases, and I am quite certain that Richard Grayson is a direct ancestor.”
Kirk blinked at him. “Through who, then? This... Clark Harper?”
“Keep reading,” Spock prompted, nodding back toward the plaque.
With a sigh, Jim began again, “Grayson was ultimately survived by two children, Clark Harper and Dinah Grayson, the latter of which was born to Barbara Gordon in 2027, and later became the seventh Robin.” Shaking his head, he gave Spock a sideways glance, to find him staring once again at the figure in the case. Reluctant to look away from his friend's fascinated visage, he returned to reading the plaque. “In his later years, Grayson went on to train three generations of Bats, fund and sponsor two incarnations of the Teen Titans, of which he was an original founding member, and assist with the restoration of records lost in the Final Crisis. He worked tirelessly until his death at the age of 94, killed by a stray bullet during a gangland battle in New York's Harlem neighborhood.”
Finished, the Captain straightened, his face twisting with confusion. “All that, and he couldn't stop a stray bullet?”
Spock sighed, or at least, gave something that might have resembled a sigh. “The Bats were not immortal, Jim. Nor were they gods. They were simply people, with a great deal of courage and compassion. They lived according to what they called The Mission, which - as they saw it - was to make the streets safer. Many died in the pursuit of that ideal.”
“Huh.” Kirk crossed his arms over his own chest as well, stepping back from the case. Turning, he spotted the memorial case of Barbara Gordon, with its two figures: one of a teenage girl in a tight black suit, and the other of a woman in a wheelchair, with glasses and flowing red hair. “So if Dinah Grayson was your great, great grandmother, then this Barbara Gordon was her mother, making her your ancestor, too,” he reasoned, stepping across the broad aisle to the case.
“Indeed, Jim,” Spock confirmed, coming up beside him.
This time, Kirk read the plaque in silence, noting the details of her career change when she was paralyzed by a bullet to the spinal cord, courtesy of a villain known as The Joker. Instead of fading into obscurity, she overcame her disability to become the foremost computer expert in the superhero community, calling herself Oracle. He was almost surprised by the fortitude the woman had possessed; spinal cord injuries and paralysis were all but a thing of the past, now.
“Quite a family tree you've got here, Spock,” he said casually as he finished reading the details of Oracle's career with an organization known as the Birds of Prey.
“This is only the beginning. If you will follow me, I would like to show you the details of Dinah Grayson's life.”
“Lead on, then.”
Heading back around a turn in the museum maze, Spock stopped them at a case containing the wax figure of a young woman with sleek red hair, wearing a black and green Robin suit and a fairly high-tech mask with bubble-like lenses. “This is Dinah Grayson, Jim,” he announced almost proudly. As the Captain read the plaque silently, the recorded chattering of bats loud overhead, he continued, “She became Robin in 2045, partnering with the third Batman, whose name has been lost. When an injury ended her career in 2049, she devoted herself to philanthropy and science, and was responsible for the closing of Arkham Asylum in 2057. Later, she headed Wayne Enterprises after the death of Timothy Drake, who was the third Robin, later Nighthawk and the second Batman, and Wayne Enterprises CEO for twenty years.”
“Wait, wait,” Kirk stopped him with a raised hand, his interest piqued again as he noted the detail on the plaque simultaneously. “What does Wayne Enterprises have to do with this?”
Spock regarded him with another curious look. “Surely you know of the first Batman?”
“Of course, but... not enough, apparently,” the Captain blinked.
The Vulcan took a breath to explain. “The first Batman was one Bruce Wayne, left the sole heir to Wayne Enterprises upon the death of his parents in 1984, when he was just nine years old. The first three Robins were his adopted sons: Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake.”
“Ahh...” Kirk nodded, finally starting to get the big picture. Something was still nagging him, though. “But... Wayne Enterprises is still run by the Wayne family. How can they allow all this to have become public knowledge?”
Spock shook his head slightly. “The Waynes today have no affiliation with the Bat legacy, having severed ties with them in 2081, upon the death of Bruce Wayne.”
“2081? That would make him, what, a hundred and six? Damn, Spock...”
“Indeed. In a world where a young death seemed inevitable for many, Mr. Wayne and several of his protegés beat the odds, living well into their senior years. Wayne himself died in his sleep, as I understand it, surrounded by family and friends after a long illness.”
Jim let out a low whistle. Then, “But they severed ties... why?”
“An actual blood heir to the estate came forward. Damien Wayne, apparent illegitimate child of Bruce Wayne, wrested control of the company away from the long line of Bats, and set himself up as CEO.”
“Hmph. Sounds like the Waynes running the company now, certainly. I can't imagine how Starfleet has managed to deal with them for so long,” Kirk speculated, crossing his arms over his chest.
“That does present a mystery to me as well, Jim. I suspect the close guarding of Wayne-developed transporter technology is an important factor. Wayne Tech did produce the first Heisenberg Compensators, after all, and has held the longest running defense contract with Starfleet.”
“Makes sense,” the shorter man nodded. After a moment, he tipped his chin up, still curious. “So, what else did you want to see here?”
“There are two more memorials I would like to look at, to confirm a suspicion.”
“You have a suspicion?” Kirk smirked wryly. “Well, then, let's check it out.”
A few moments later they stood in front a case containing two wax figures, the first that of a tough looking teenager in a red and green Robin suit, and the second that of a man in his twenties, wearing a white shirt, black leather jacket, and a red eyemask, one foot perched atop a red helmet, and a nasty looking dagger clenched in one hand. “This would be Jason Todd, the second Robin. After his resurrection from the grave in 2015, he became Red Hood, and was known as a notorious killer of drug dealers and gang members. After the Final Crisis, he faded into obscurity.”
“Okay... so what's your suspicion?”
Spock looked at him sideways, his expression calm. “It is believed among the members of my mother's family that Jason Todd might have been a contributing member to our ancestry, though the records seem to have been lost.”
“Proof?”
Slowly, the Vulcan reached into a long pouch on his hip. “This,” he said simply as he pulled out a cloth-covered package and unwrapped it, revealing a dagger, slightly dulled, but curved in the way of a Kriss blade.
Kirk looked from it to the blade in the wax figure's hand.
They were the same.
“Spock...” he started, mouth falling open in a gasp.
“My mother entrusted this to me after I graduated from Starfleet Academy. It is apparently one of the only known artifacts to have been spared the Bats' archiving in 2107.”
Jim glanced at the plaque before the case. The blade in the display was listed as a replica, where everything else was original. “Damn. So... how does he figure in with the Graysons?”
Spock answered as he re-wrapped the dagger and stowed it back in the pouch, “There is speculation that he might have been the third Batman, taking over after Timothy Drake's brief - and disastrous - interlude with the title.”
“Disastrous?”
“As Batman, Drake seemed to have lost his mind, and it is possible that he was responsible for the death of Cassandra Cain. Once removed from his position, he underwent several years of intense psychotherapy, until he took over Wayne Enterprises in 2043. In any case, the third Batman is believed to have had several children with an unknown mother, one of whom became Dinah Grayson's husband in later years. Their children carried the Grayson name, leading directly to my mother's family, and they disassociated with the Bat legacy, themselves, preferring to pursue careers in science instead.”
“So that's how you got all this information in the first place, huh?” Jim chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. It would take him weeks to sort through the convoluted family history Spock was laying out.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, so... next stop?”
“The Hall of the Bat.”
* * * * *
As it turned out, the Batman exhibit was even darker than the rest of the Bat Cave, with dim pools of light barely illuminating the cowls of the various suits and casting eerie shadows on the faces of the wax figures beneath, some of which were posed menacingly to add to the air of fear and mystery. The effect left Jim shivering involuntarily; he wouldn't want to be caught in a dark alley with one of these guys on his best day.
“Here we are,” Spock announced as they neared a case with only a suit and no figure. “The third, unnamed Batman.”
“You really think this was that Todd guy?”
“I do,” the Vulcan nodded, peering intently into the case, his hands clasped behind his back. “If you will notice, the utility belt is red, and contains a sheath for a dagger.”
Kirk narrowed his eyes at his companion. “That's pretty flimsy evidence, Spock.”
“It is,” Spock agreed. “However, Dinah Grayson's eldest son, my great grandfather, was named Todd Grayson. While not direct proof, it would follow that there might have been a family relation to the name. Also, it was discovered many years after his supposed disappearance in 2058 that he carried a picture of a woman in a compartment of his utility belt.” He pointed to the tiny photograph set up with its own spotlight, the image of a black-haired woman with a wry smirk staring out at them. “Until now, I have not seen this photograph, but my suspicions do seem to be confirmed. This,” he reached into a pocket and withdrew another photo, “is Dinah Grayson's daughter, Elizabeth, my great, great aunt.”
Kirk stared at the two photos. Spitting images. Same wry smirk. Same eyes. If not for the clear difference in period clothing, he would have guessed they were the same woman. “Incredible... So, what does any of this prove?”
“If my suspicions are correct,” he began, his expression becoming thoughtful, “based on the knowledge that the Batman currently operating in Gotham City is directly descended from the third Batman, then this current Batman is my fifth cousin.”
“Spock...” Jim shook his head. “This is too much. I guess I should be glad I'm descended from a long line of farmers.”
“You would think that to be the case, wouldn't you,” the Vulcan cocked an eyebrow at him.
“What?”
A faint flicker of a smile pulled up one corner of Spock's mouth. “In all your own genealogical records, have you not once uncovered the name 'Gardner'?”
Giving a suspicious look, Kirk folded his arms over his chest. “What have they got to do with anything?”
Spock's little smile grew finally into a wicked smirk, looking frighteningly like the women in the photographs. “More than you know, Jim. More than you know.”
* * * * *
Fandom: DCU/Star Trek
Characters: Kirk, Spock, mentions of all the Bats, several Supers, and various other heroes and villains
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,458
Summary: Spock takes Kirk to visit the Superhero Museum. If you know Spock's mother's surname, I think you know where this is going. :p
Disclaimer: DC, WB, and Paramount own it all. I own nothing. Darnit.
Author's Notes: This is crack. Pure, unadulterated, unapologetic CRACK! Consider yourselves warned. Also, this takes place some time during the original five-year mission, and I've moved DCU canon up a few years and given it an AU future. For the record, I *do* know who the dark haired woman in the photograph is. ^_~ (next to be finished and posted: "Lost Years" part 10 and the conclusion to "Confrontation, etc..." ^_^)
History
The sun was shining on the green in front of Starfleet Headquarters when Kirk caught up with his First Officer. “Alright, Spock, you said to meet here, what's all the fuss?”
“Good morning, Jim,” the Vulcan nodded curtly, his hands clasped behind his back. “I was hoping you might be up to an excursion today.”
“Excursion? What, to Death Valley? Meteor Crater? Yosemite? You know I've always wanted to try out El Capitan.”
“Hardly, Captain. I have a much more urban destination in mind.”
“Urban,” Kirk deadpanned as they turned to head toward the shuttle port. “We get three weeks of shore leave, and you want to spend your time in a city?”
“Not just a city. A museum.”
“Oh?” Kirk was already beginning to get antsy; it wasn't often that Spock played the man of intrigue.
“The Superhero Museum, to be exact.”
An eyebrow raised of its own accord. “Superheroes? Seriously?”
“Yes, Captain. Superheroes.”
For the briefest of moments, Jim thought he saw the glint of mischief in his friend's eyes. “All right, then. Let's go.”
* * * * *
“Welcome to the Superhero Museum,” the automated female voiced greeted them as they passed through the massive arched entrance. Kirk could swear the voice was a more dulcet version of their own ship's computer. “Since the dawn of humanity, there have been those that have risen above the norm, those that have transcended the abilities and expectations of those around them. Many became legends, some remained myths as their stories were lost to the ravages of time. But for many who rose up to begin the healing of the world after the Third World War and the Atomic Horror, their legacy became fixed in time, epic tales of triumph against the darkness recorded for future generations to behold. It is this sweeping epic that the Superhero Museum wishes to pass on. Our greatest wish is that all those who pass through these halls take these stories with them, learn from them, and are inspired to transcend expectations themselves.”
“Nice welcome,” Jim quipped as they stopped at the map of the museum, the floor plan projected upon a screen of shimmering, cascading smoke. “So, what's on the agenda?”
Raising an eyebrow as he lifted a finger to point out a certain wing of the museum on the wavering map, Spock answered simply, “The Bat Cave.”
“Lead on, then,” Kirk urged as the Vulcan started off toward the furthest east wing.
Along the way, they passed the Kryptonian exhibit, its entrance framed by towering crystalline monoliths perched at angles to one another, more dulcet tones welcoming visitors in both English and Kryptonian - which, until recently, had been a nearly dead language. Jim peered inside the brightly blue-white lit rooms briefly, spotting the crystalline memorials to both Kon-El, once Superboy, and Kara Zor-El, once Supergirl and later Superwoman. He figured the case for Superman himself must be further into the exhibit. Have to check that out later, he noted, his interest piqued; hadn't been a full-blooded Kryptonian around in almost fifty years.
Further down the main corridor, the two men passed the Green Lantern Corps exhibit, the entire hall lit up in bright greens, with splashes of other colors marking smaller exhibits surrounding the Corps' conflicts with the various other Corps. Kirk had always wondered about the Blackest Night War, not having had the opportunity to study the extended campaigns against the Red and Black Lantern Corps. Not exactly standard Starfleet education, of course.
His attention caught by the plaque at the entrance to the hall, he stopped, reading the Lanterns' Oath over again as if for the first time. “In brightest day, in blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight. Let those who worship evil's might, beware my power, Green Lantern's light.” He smiled wistfully as he finished, wishing again as he had as a child that he could have received his own Power Ring. “Hey, Spock,” he called over his shoulder, jerking his thumb toward the exhibit, “look at thi-” But he realized his companion had already moved on without him, headed directly toward the final exhibit of this side of the museum. “Damn.”
Tearing himself away from the Lanterns exhibit, Kirk jogged through the crowd to catch up with Spock. “Hey,” he called out again as he reached the taller man. “You could wait a minute, you know.”
Spock only gave him another raised eyebrow as he continued on his path toward the Bat exhibit. “I do have a reason for coming here, Jim.”
“Okay, fine,” Kirk threw up his arms in mock surrender, falling into step with the Vulcan.
After passing the Themysciran exhibit and the Arrows exhibit, they finally reached their destination. The Bat Cave.
True to its name, this exhibit was dark, its entrance the gaping maw of a cave, with stalactites and stalagmites meeting and merging into columns. From within, the chattering of bats echoed eerily as a slight, cool breeze wisped out to meet them.
In stark contrast to the other exhibits, there was no greeting as they entered, no grand declaration of truths and honor, of heroism and home. Only the dark of the Cave, punctuated by pools of light illuminating memorial cases and small exhibits of gadgetry, weapons, and vehicles. The first case they passed held a variety of belts, covered in pouches, the second, a number of styles of grappling hooks and other equipment resembling rock climber's gear. Kirk had to admit he was somewhat impressed, even as he didn't have enough time to read all of the plaques as they swept by.
Seemingly on a mission, Spock ignored a number of cases, not even giving a look to the case for the fourth Robin, whose real name, as Jim read it from the plaque as they passed, was apparently Stephanie Brown. Also known as Spoiler for a time, she'd been murdered, and later returned in the Final Crisis, a time Kirk remembered had surrounded the resurrection from the grave of some ten thousand people.
Nor did Spock glance at the case belonging to fourth Bat Woman, Shayera Kyle, apparent granddaughter of the Catwoman, herself.
“Spock, what is it you're looking for, exactly?” Jim questioned as they passed yet another case, this one displaying the uniform of the second Bat Girl, Cassandra Cain. As intriguing as all this was, he couldn't help wondering just what had his friend so focused.
“You will see,” came the Vulcan's enigmatic reply.
Sighing, Kirk could only follow along and wait for whatever Spock had in store.
After making another turn in the museum's maze and passing several more cases, both with uniforms and gadgetry, Spock stopped, only one case shy of the more secluded exhibit containing the row of Batman cases. Looking up at the colorful, but empty uniform and the wax figure of a man in his twenties next to it, his eyes seemed to grow distant.
“Spock?” Jim prodded. “What is it?”
“This is it,” he said simply.
Kirk read off the plaque, “Richard Grayson. Born 1993, died 2087. A member of the world-renowned aerialist circus family, The Flying Graysons, until his parents' death in 2003, Dick Grayson was raised and trained as an acrobat. At the age of 12, he became the first Robin, partner to the first Batman. At age 19, he traded in the mantle of Robin for the identity of Nightwing, whose more famous uniform is displayed here.” Looking briefly up at the wax figure, he noted the blue bird-like figure sweeping across the black chest and down the arms to the fingers, then continued reading. “As Nightwing, Grayson patrolled the city of Blüdhaven until its destruction in 2018, later moving his crime-fighting operations to New York. For a brief time, he wore the mantel of the Batman, as shown in the Hall of the Bat, but otherwise remained Nightwing until his supposed retirement in 2045, at which time the mantel of Nightwing is speculated to have passed to Clark Harper, the son he shared with the Red Arrow, Roy Harper, and whose exact parentage is unknown.”
Kirk's brow furrowed as he looked to his friend. “All right. I give, Spock. You've led me all the way to the memorial case of this... Nightwing. What is this all about?”
Not tearing his own gaze away from the figure in the case, Spock lifted an eyebrow, his arms crossed over his chest. “Jim, Richard Grayson... is my direct ancestor.”
“I'm sorry, your what? You mean...”
“My ancestor.” The Vulcan finally turned to look at Kirk, eying him as if the blonde man might not have heard him the first time. “He was my mother's great, great, great grandfather.”
“But... surely that's a coincidence of the name, I mean, didn't these... Bats... keep all of their genetic records sealed? Even change their surnames to protect their families, like a lot of vigilante heroes did?”
“Indeed not, Captain. I have spent the last three years searching the historical records and researching the available databases, and I am quite certain that Richard Grayson is a direct ancestor.”
Kirk blinked at him. “Through who, then? This... Clark Harper?”
“Keep reading,” Spock prompted, nodding back toward the plaque.
With a sigh, Jim began again, “Grayson was ultimately survived by two children, Clark Harper and Dinah Grayson, the latter of which was born to Barbara Gordon in 2027, and later became the seventh Robin.” Shaking his head, he gave Spock a sideways glance, to find him staring once again at the figure in the case. Reluctant to look away from his friend's fascinated visage, he returned to reading the plaque. “In his later years, Grayson went on to train three generations of Bats, fund and sponsor two incarnations of the Teen Titans, of which he was an original founding member, and assist with the restoration of records lost in the Final Crisis. He worked tirelessly until his death at the age of 94, killed by a stray bullet during a gangland battle in New York's Harlem neighborhood.”
Finished, the Captain straightened, his face twisting with confusion. “All that, and he couldn't stop a stray bullet?”
Spock sighed, or at least, gave something that might have resembled a sigh. “The Bats were not immortal, Jim. Nor were they gods. They were simply people, with a great deal of courage and compassion. They lived according to what they called The Mission, which - as they saw it - was to make the streets safer. Many died in the pursuit of that ideal.”
“Huh.” Kirk crossed his arms over his own chest as well, stepping back from the case. Turning, he spotted the memorial case of Barbara Gordon, with its two figures: one of a teenage girl in a tight black suit, and the other of a woman in a wheelchair, with glasses and flowing red hair. “So if Dinah Grayson was your great, great grandmother, then this Barbara Gordon was her mother, making her your ancestor, too,” he reasoned, stepping across the broad aisle to the case.
“Indeed, Jim,” Spock confirmed, coming up beside him.
This time, Kirk read the plaque in silence, noting the details of her career change when she was paralyzed by a bullet to the spinal cord, courtesy of a villain known as The Joker. Instead of fading into obscurity, she overcame her disability to become the foremost computer expert in the superhero community, calling herself Oracle. He was almost surprised by the fortitude the woman had possessed; spinal cord injuries and paralysis were all but a thing of the past, now.
“Quite a family tree you've got here, Spock,” he said casually as he finished reading the details of Oracle's career with an organization known as the Birds of Prey.
“This is only the beginning. If you will follow me, I would like to show you the details of Dinah Grayson's life.”
“Lead on, then.”
Heading back around a turn in the museum maze, Spock stopped them at a case containing the wax figure of a young woman with sleek red hair, wearing a black and green Robin suit and a fairly high-tech mask with bubble-like lenses. “This is Dinah Grayson, Jim,” he announced almost proudly. As the Captain read the plaque silently, the recorded chattering of bats loud overhead, he continued, “She became Robin in 2045, partnering with the third Batman, whose name has been lost. When an injury ended her career in 2049, she devoted herself to philanthropy and science, and was responsible for the closing of Arkham Asylum in 2057. Later, she headed Wayne Enterprises after the death of Timothy Drake, who was the third Robin, later Nighthawk and the second Batman, and Wayne Enterprises CEO for twenty years.”
“Wait, wait,” Kirk stopped him with a raised hand, his interest piqued again as he noted the detail on the plaque simultaneously. “What does Wayne Enterprises have to do with this?”
Spock regarded him with another curious look. “Surely you know of the first Batman?”
“Of course, but... not enough, apparently,” the Captain blinked.
The Vulcan took a breath to explain. “The first Batman was one Bruce Wayne, left the sole heir to Wayne Enterprises upon the death of his parents in 1984, when he was just nine years old. The first three Robins were his adopted sons: Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake.”
“Ahh...” Kirk nodded, finally starting to get the big picture. Something was still nagging him, though. “But... Wayne Enterprises is still run by the Wayne family. How can they allow all this to have become public knowledge?”
Spock shook his head slightly. “The Waynes today have no affiliation with the Bat legacy, having severed ties with them in 2081, upon the death of Bruce Wayne.”
“2081? That would make him, what, a hundred and six? Damn, Spock...”
“Indeed. In a world where a young death seemed inevitable for many, Mr. Wayne and several of his protegés beat the odds, living well into their senior years. Wayne himself died in his sleep, as I understand it, surrounded by family and friends after a long illness.”
Jim let out a low whistle. Then, “But they severed ties... why?”
“An actual blood heir to the estate came forward. Damien Wayne, apparent illegitimate child of Bruce Wayne, wrested control of the company away from the long line of Bats, and set himself up as CEO.”
“Hmph. Sounds like the Waynes running the company now, certainly. I can't imagine how Starfleet has managed to deal with them for so long,” Kirk speculated, crossing his arms over his chest.
“That does present a mystery to me as well, Jim. I suspect the close guarding of Wayne-developed transporter technology is an important factor. Wayne Tech did produce the first Heisenberg Compensators, after all, and has held the longest running defense contract with Starfleet.”
“Makes sense,” the shorter man nodded. After a moment, he tipped his chin up, still curious. “So, what else did you want to see here?”
“There are two more memorials I would like to look at, to confirm a suspicion.”
“You have a suspicion?” Kirk smirked wryly. “Well, then, let's check it out.”
A few moments later they stood in front a case containing two wax figures, the first that of a tough looking teenager in a red and green Robin suit, and the second that of a man in his twenties, wearing a white shirt, black leather jacket, and a red eyemask, one foot perched atop a red helmet, and a nasty looking dagger clenched in one hand. “This would be Jason Todd, the second Robin. After his resurrection from the grave in 2015, he became Red Hood, and was known as a notorious killer of drug dealers and gang members. After the Final Crisis, he faded into obscurity.”
“Okay... so what's your suspicion?”
Spock looked at him sideways, his expression calm. “It is believed among the members of my mother's family that Jason Todd might have been a contributing member to our ancestry, though the records seem to have been lost.”
“Proof?”
Slowly, the Vulcan reached into a long pouch on his hip. “This,” he said simply as he pulled out a cloth-covered package and unwrapped it, revealing a dagger, slightly dulled, but curved in the way of a Kriss blade.
Kirk looked from it to the blade in the wax figure's hand.
They were the same.
“Spock...” he started, mouth falling open in a gasp.
“My mother entrusted this to me after I graduated from Starfleet Academy. It is apparently one of the only known artifacts to have been spared the Bats' archiving in 2107.”
Jim glanced at the plaque before the case. The blade in the display was listed as a replica, where everything else was original. “Damn. So... how does he figure in with the Graysons?”
Spock answered as he re-wrapped the dagger and stowed it back in the pouch, “There is speculation that he might have been the third Batman, taking over after Timothy Drake's brief - and disastrous - interlude with the title.”
“Disastrous?”
“As Batman, Drake seemed to have lost his mind, and it is possible that he was responsible for the death of Cassandra Cain. Once removed from his position, he underwent several years of intense psychotherapy, until he took over Wayne Enterprises in 2043. In any case, the third Batman is believed to have had several children with an unknown mother, one of whom became Dinah Grayson's husband in later years. Their children carried the Grayson name, leading directly to my mother's family, and they disassociated with the Bat legacy, themselves, preferring to pursue careers in science instead.”
“So that's how you got all this information in the first place, huh?” Jim chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. It would take him weeks to sort through the convoluted family history Spock was laying out.
“Exactly.”
“Okay, so... next stop?”
“The Hall of the Bat.”
* * * * *
As it turned out, the Batman exhibit was even darker than the rest of the Bat Cave, with dim pools of light barely illuminating the cowls of the various suits and casting eerie shadows on the faces of the wax figures beneath, some of which were posed menacingly to add to the air of fear and mystery. The effect left Jim shivering involuntarily; he wouldn't want to be caught in a dark alley with one of these guys on his best day.
“Here we are,” Spock announced as they neared a case with only a suit and no figure. “The third, unnamed Batman.”
“You really think this was that Todd guy?”
“I do,” the Vulcan nodded, peering intently into the case, his hands clasped behind his back. “If you will notice, the utility belt is red, and contains a sheath for a dagger.”
Kirk narrowed his eyes at his companion. “That's pretty flimsy evidence, Spock.”
“It is,” Spock agreed. “However, Dinah Grayson's eldest son, my great grandfather, was named Todd Grayson. While not direct proof, it would follow that there might have been a family relation to the name. Also, it was discovered many years after his supposed disappearance in 2058 that he carried a picture of a woman in a compartment of his utility belt.” He pointed to the tiny photograph set up with its own spotlight, the image of a black-haired woman with a wry smirk staring out at them. “Until now, I have not seen this photograph, but my suspicions do seem to be confirmed. This,” he reached into a pocket and withdrew another photo, “is Dinah Grayson's daughter, Elizabeth, my great, great aunt.”
Kirk stared at the two photos. Spitting images. Same wry smirk. Same eyes. If not for the clear difference in period clothing, he would have guessed they were the same woman. “Incredible... So, what does any of this prove?”
“If my suspicions are correct,” he began, his expression becoming thoughtful, “based on the knowledge that the Batman currently operating in Gotham City is directly descended from the third Batman, then this current Batman is my fifth cousin.”
“Spock...” Jim shook his head. “This is too much. I guess I should be glad I'm descended from a long line of farmers.”
“You would think that to be the case, wouldn't you,” the Vulcan cocked an eyebrow at him.
“What?”
A faint flicker of a smile pulled up one corner of Spock's mouth. “In all your own genealogical records, have you not once uncovered the name 'Gardner'?”
Giving a suspicious look, Kirk folded his arms over his chest. “What have they got to do with anything?”
Spock's little smile grew finally into a wicked smirk, looking frighteningly like the women in the photographs. “More than you know, Jim. More than you know.”
* * * * *