Now, I know that you are straining at the leash to interrogate me on the circs leading up to Commodore Robert Wesley waking up in my bed on Christmas morning during my ill-fated sojourn to the famed leisure spot of Risa, but I feel the need to pre-empt the entire conversation by stating early on that it isn't as bad as it looks. When viewed comprehensively and from all angles, that is to say by taking a well-rounded look at the entire situash from a respectable distance and squinting a bit, I think it's fair to conclude that things could have gone a lot worse. Spock, of course, is the one that I have to thank for the whole affair, with the exception, perhaps, of one or two actions taken by self early on. Yes, all things considered, what with Bajoran monasteries and scanners-on-sticks and women with entirely too-red hair running about the place causing trouble, I think old James T. Kirk came out of the whole thing pretty nicely, in the end.
But I am getting ahead of myself.
I received the invitation on Stardate 7562.48 - Earth date December 19th. It was damnably short notice, but opportunity waits for no man, as they say. Or is that time? Spock would know. I'll have to ask him.
Anyway, the message dinged through on my PADD just after I had settled down to an evening meal with Mister Spock - chicken sandwich and coffee, followed by german double chocolate cake and more coffee. Bones would have had a headfit if he knew, but I wasn't planning on telling him, so full steam ahead, I say.
The message contained some pretty good-ish news, as far as I was concerned, but I wasn't confident Spock would share in that assessment. Nonetheless, fortified by caffeine and carbohydrates, I decided that now was as good a time as ever to break it to him. As Shakespeare said, if a thing needs to be done, you might as well get on with it and get it over with. Who am I to argue with Shakespeare? I knew Spock would be annoyed, even if he refused to show it, but hell, if a Vulcan can't handle a little disappointment now and again, what hope is there for the rest of us?
"Oh, um, Spock," I said.
"Yes, Jim?"
"We have received a communication from the Trill Ambassador Lady Vikjan. We met her at that conference on Andoria a few weeks ago, do you remember?"
"Indeed. Lady Vikjan was in attendance with her daughter, Ms Radere Vikjan."
"Exactly. Well, yes, anyway, she has written to me inviting the both of us to her estate on Risa for her annual Yuletide festivities. It's a pretty prestigious event, so I'm told."
I paused, debating whether to plow on ahead or go with a gentler approach.
"Erm, so, right, yes, you should make sure to pack your best clothes. Lady Vikjan forbids uniforms of any kind at her parties. We'll leave for Risa on the evening of the 21st to arrive on the 22nd. Oh, and you might want to pack some clothes for hiking, and swimming, too, if you're up for it. I believe Lady Vikjan's estate is situated right in between the beach and the mountains, and the weather is great on Risa at this time of year. Well, at all times of year, I suppose. That's kind of the point of Risa. In any case, I expect we shall be there for the full extent of our shore leave."
There was a pause. I could feel a frosty gaze being directed at me, but I focused deliberately on the chocolate cake and refused to look up to meet it.
"I thought I understood you to have said, Captain, that we were to take joint shore leave on Bajor immediately following the crew's seasonal festivities."
"I know. I did. But that was before Lady Vikjan's invitation. So now that's all off. Plans changed."
At this point, the video communications link buzzed, tiding over very nicely what had threatened to be a rather uncomfortable moment. Spock, being closest to the monitor, answered it.
"Spock here. … Commodore Wesley? … Affirmative, the Captain is present." Spock said to the monitor.
"Commodore Robert Wesley, Captain." Spock said to me.
You know, every now and then I can't help but feel that Spock is slipping. When on top form he would have, without hesitation, found some quick-ish means of bending the truth in some clever way in order to give Bob the impression I was unavailable to take his call, whilst never actually telling him that that was the case. Spock can be a wonder at strategic omission when he's been on the Plomeek Soup. Today he'd ordered cucumber sushi.
And so, instead of providing me with an escape, he turned the monitor to face me. I shot him one of my steely glares, before fully rotating the monitor and plastering on one of my most charming smiles.
"Commodore Wesley. To what do I owe the pleasure?" I said.
"Don't be a suck up, Kirk, it doesn't suit you, and you aren't any good at it."
Quite the wrong sort of tone to adopt to a fellow after a long day at the office, but what can you do?
"Jim, Isi Vikjan tells me she has invited you to Risa for Christmas. Are you going?"
"Of course."
"I'm glad to hear it. Isi is an old friend of mine, so be sure you are on your best behaviour. And keep your paws off of Radere! Her mother is practically Trill nobility, and I know your reputation, my lad. That's all well and good, in the right time and place, but not with a classy girl like Radere. Personally I don't know what these people see in you, but that's the youth of today I suppose."
I was in no mood for this sort of thing at the end of a vid-comm. In person, maybe, but at the end of a wire? No.
"Naturally, naturally." I replied smoothly. "I always strive to conduct myself in a manner befitting a Starfleet Captain, and -"
"What? I can't hear you. Come closer to the monitor. What did you say?"
"I said 'Sure Thing, Bob'."
"Oh? Well, make sure you do. And if you don't, I'll know about it. You know how I'll know? Because I'm going to be there too! Ha! You weren't expecting that, were you, son!"
And truthfully I must admit that his statement did surprise me, somewhat.
"What!"
"Don't yell like that, you trying to deafen me?"
"Did you say that you are going to Lady Vikjan's party?"
"I did."
"You don't mean the Starfleet Annual December conference?"
"No I don't mean the Starfleet Annual December conference, I mean Isi Vikjan's party. That's why I said I'm going to Isi Vikjan's party, damn it!"
"Of course, of course."
"Well then. I just wanted to give you a call, son, and bury the hatchet after that messy Daystrom business. No hard feelings. We can start a new slate, all in the Christmas spirit don't you say, lad? And on that note, I actually wanted to discuss a little proposition with -"
But I had cut off the call. Shaken. That's what I was. Shaken to the core.
Now, please stop me if you already know all of this; but in case you don't know, I should probably give you the low down on old Bob Wesley. He's a formidable old bastard, with an iron soul and the wit of a week-old haddock. He is by profession, as you may have guessed, a Commodore with the 'Fleet. How it all came about behind the scenes I cannot tell you to this day, but I once, under his orders, had to turn control of my entire ship over to a psychopathic semi-sentient computer and allow it to start a pretend war. The fixture was scratched owing to events occurring which convinced the old boy that I had opened fire on his ship and nearly killed him and all of his crew. Even though we proved it was actually the maniacal computer going for multiple homicide and not yours truly, he has nonetheless ever since had my name saved in his contacts as "Captain Dunsel - ATTEMPTED MURDERER", and he in mine as "Commodore Fathead Jerkwad".
We were not, you might say, on the most cordial of terms. And to think that at one stage I was having to fight him off from trying to fast-track promote me to command of a starbase? The world of man is truly a violent and mercurial place.
And so it seemed to me that even at Christmas time, with all the Peace Across The Stars and Goodwill To All Men, Women, Non-Binaries, And Those Of Other Species To Which Such Definitions Are Inapplicable that there tends to exist knocking about at that season, a reunion with this bloke was likely to be tough going. If I hadn't had more than one particularly good reason for wanting to go to Risa, I'd have called the whole thing off.
"Spock," I said, with not inconsiderable aggravation, "Did you hear that? Bob Wesley is going to be at Lady Vikjan's!"
"Quite, Captain. If you have finished with your meal, I will retire."
Cold and haughty. No sympathy at all. None of that rallying-round spirit upon which I had come to rely. As I had anticipated, the information that we were not going to Bajor had roused him. Bajor housed some rather wonderful museums and libraries, not to mention ancient monasteries, and I knew Spock had been looking forward to going. As had I, if I'm completely honest. But sometimes some things have got to take precedence over other things, even if the first things are rather agreeable things, and the second things are half-agreeable, half-inconvenient things, if you catch my meaning.
In any case, we humans can wear the mask as well as any Vulcan when necessary, and so I ignored his lack of decent feeling masterfully.
"Thank you, Spock," I said. "I'll have to pass on chess tonight. We both need to pack."
