With it being Memorial Day weekend, the muse gave me a nudge. This is a brief short that follows on from my other AOS/Hogan's Heroes crossover one shot, "Down the Tunnel". The title comes from a Tom Waits song, which Paul Young also very poignantly covered in the 80's. And as for using Pan American World Airways, well, someone we know and love (Gene R) was one of their pilots, too!
I am presuming Kirk will also have private quarters on his new ship and since this is no longer 1966, the design budget is fueled only by the imagination ;-) and software. In this piece, Kirk is visiting his mother in Iowa before he reports to the ship for the start of its mission (I somehow think there might have been a day or two---at least---to resupply and refit her before the new crew took to the skies?). He's looking for some stuff to decorate his new digs... (and please, let them NOT be like that mess we saw in "Conscience of the King" with paperback books flying everywhere! *g*)
When I refer to a great grandfather or great uncle of Kirk's, I mean by several generations, but putting in all those great great greats would take up too much room!
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Copyright Mistress V 2009. If anyone thinks I make money off this, they're sadly mistaken, and besides, I am only borrowing that which I do not own. My work is my own.
A Soldier's Things 1/1 (K)
by Mistress V
Jim Kirk made his way though the attic carefully. Despite technological advancements everywhere, his mother still kept the old house, which dated back hundreds of years to the first Kirk farm, as historically accurate as possible. That meant low ceilings and overhead beams, even if the careful restoration had garnered her a listing in the Iowa Register of Historical Buildings.
He found his old boxing gloves, something he hadn't seen in many a year. After that disastrous incident with his uncle's antique roadster, his mother insisted he channel his energy into something physically demanding AND challenging---and that meant boxing at the local boy's club. He'd done well, he thought as he ran his hands over the aging trophy that read "Iowa Junior Welterweight Champion". It would look nice in his new quarters, and the gloves still fit. Just about. It would be good to get in some sparring in the ship's gym to keep in shape. His pugilistic talents had been sorely over-used recently.
His father's graduation portrait was in small box marked "ancient relics". As he picked up the frame, Kirk noticed an object just beneath it, an old leather-bound item that looked like a book of some kind. Curious, he sat down on the floor and drew it out. Maybe it was something else from his father's academy days.
A puff of breath dislodged years worth of old-fashioned dust. Kirk sneezed several times and then wiped his face on his sleeve. It was one thing to have a listed building, he thought, but did *everything* have to be authentic, down to the dust? Maybe there were mice up here too. No, the family cat, Tabitha, and her brood of kits probably saw them off.
Carefully, he unfolded the cover, only to find another leaf of leather inside. He unfolded that as well and gazed down at the trio of black and white photos contained within. Looked to be something that might once have sat on an old oaken desk, he reckoned, like in those ancient holovids his mom watched.
The center portrait was of an earnest young soldier in a U. Aircorps No.1 Service Dress uniform. Kirk knew without a doubt this was his great grandfather, several times over, James "Jimmy" Kirk, a captain in World War 2. The picture had obviously been taken just after the man got his pilot's wings. There they were, proudly pinned to his jacket.
The picture to the left was older. The young future pilot looked even younger here as he stood in front of a biplane, smiling up at a rakish looking man dressed in aviator's leathers. Kirk's eyes widened.
"That's Lindbergh!" he whistled to himself. Aviation history was one of his stronger points at the Academy.
"It sure is, honey. That was one of the proudest days of his life, you know. The story was passed down through the generations of pilots in the family. He's who inspired THAT Jim Kirk to fly. I'm just sorry I never got around to telling you earlier." Winona Kirk knelt down next to her son.
"Aww, Mom, do you think I would have even listened?" Kirk's grin became sheepish. He busied himself clearing off an old bench for his mother. "Sit down, Mom. Can you tell me about this other shot? I recognize my great uncle the crop duster, and great grandpa Jimmy, but who's the other guy? Looks like an Air Force general or something."
"Oh my." Winona's expression softened as she touched the old image. "You're right, he was a general. This was taken on the day your great grandfather was promoted to pilot with the old Pan American Airlines. It wasn't easy, you know. He had to work his way up from mechanic, despite serving as a pilot in WW2 and in Korea."
"Tell me about it." Kirk was all too aware that some of Starfleet held his rapid promotion in contempt.
"General Robert Hogan met Jimmy during WW2. His plane was shot down over Germany and he somehow ended up in Hogan's POW camp. And Hogan helped him escape, so he could get back to the skies."
"Helped him escape? Why didn't they both get out?" Kirk was puzzled.
"There were reasons." Winona now drew an old leather bound journal out of the box. "It's all in here. How Hogan and your grandfather met, what was happening then, how he got back to England and how they ended up serving together after the war. It was classified for years, you know, but somehow it survived."
"The Ramblings of an Old Soldier." Kirk looked at his mother. "But he was an airman!"
"It's just a saying, hon. He started writing it on the day he met Lindbergh---his birthday, to be exact. The journal was a gift from his own father. It went everywhere and saw everything." She paused. "Your father took great comfort from it, you know."
"Dad?"
"This label marked 'relics'? Your father wrote that. It was his word for history. He had a dry sense of humor, something I think you might be exhibiting too. Everything in this box was precious to him, As precious as I was...and you were. That's why we're looking at these things today."
Kirk shook his head. "I don't understand," he finally said.
"When your father arranged that shuttle to evacuate us, he made certain this little box was inside it too. It was his way of passing down the history of his family to you, something he knew he wouldn't be able to do." A tear slid down her cheek. "It was hard for me even to admit this was all up here, let alone start talking about the past. But now I think we've made a fine start. Shall we continue?"
"How about over dinner? I'm starved." Kirk looked at the last item in the box. "What the devil's this?"
"Oh, that's something your father planned to make on the mission in his free time. He never managed to get started, though. It's an antique model of the plane your great grandfather flew for Pan Am before he retired. A 747, I think it was called."
"Why don't we tackle it together, after dinner? I think it'll look great in my cabin."
"Me too, honey."
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It was well after midnight, but Kirk still wasn't asleep. He lay on his boyhood bed, voraciously reading the old journal. Great grandpa Jimmy sure had a way with words, he thought. He re-read one passage that really piqued his curiosity.
"Memorial Day, 1968. Bob and his wife came with us to the wreath laying ceremony over at the cemetery, with a nice flyover by the new jets. Too bad there are young people dying again, won't there ever be a time without war? This Vietnam thing's gonna be a mess, I tell you. Bob agrees. But what do a couple of old flyboys like us know?
"The grandkids dragged Mary and me off to the movies. That new science fiction film, '2001: A Space Odyssey.' When I saw that Pan Am Space Clipper come onscreen, my chest swelled out like a balloon. I know someday there'll be a Kirk up in the stars..."
Kirk gazed over at the model 747 that now sat on the windowsill, in the final process of drying. It looked fine, he thought, but maybe it was...lonely. He pulled back the covers and padded over to the computer. After a few minutes of research, he found what he was looking for and hit the 'purchase' button.
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"Come in!" Kirk called to the door chime, then continued unpacking.
"Captain, here are the scans on the sector we are slated to pass through in the next ten days." Spock handed over a PADD.
"Thanks, Mr. Spock. You settling in all right?"
"As well as can be expected, given this is space." The Vulcan's eyes wandered over to the shelving where Kirk had begun setting out some of the items he'd brought from home. His eyebrow raised. "An old earth styled jet airplane!" he said, excitement, well, the Vulcan variety, lacing his tone. "Where did you get it?"
"When I was home on leave. It was sitting around in the attic. My mother and I put her together."
"I was not aware you had an interest---" Spock paused, now taking in the second aircraft. "Whatever is this? I do not recall it from my Aviation History class?"
"You skipped out on '2001', didn't you?" Kirk said, chastising his new First Officer with a grin.
"I read the novelized version," Spock countered testily. "Earth style films do not hold my interest. I would prefer to read."
"I've got a feeling I might be able to change your mind. Ever seen any of those old World War 2 epics?"
"No, though my mother insisted on watching them. Something to do with the historical aspect, I gather." Spock now looked solemn.
"Of flight, Spock. If there weren't ships and then planes, we wouldn't be here today in the stars. C'mon, I'll buy you a cup of coffee and tell you some old soldier's stories." Kirk picked up the journal and the tri-folded frame off his desk, determined not to let the man start down the Vulcan guilt path again. Neither one of them needed that right now.
Spock knew better than to question his new captain. But the conversation might prove fascinating after all.
FIN.
There is a Pan Am Space Clipper in 2001. Of course, when that film came out, we all thought that by 1990, we'd be living on the moon! Or at least in a space station...