"And he said: 'In the beginning was the word and in
the end will be the word. And the word is - fire!'.
The Costigan refused to answer further hails, raised
her shields and powered up her weapons. After she
fired on us, I gave the order to return fire. In the
engagement, the CIV Costigan was destroyed with the
loss of all aboard. We have yet to work out why a
lightly armed civilian yacht would start a fire fight with
a cruiser - and given the lack of survivors, perhaps we
never will."
Extract from Captain's Log, USS Nimdanion, Captain
Michael Kelly, Stardate 1615.9.
Larssen was late to the mixer, and watching her slip in
through the door and head towards a quiet corner Kirk
realised that she had deliberately sought to arrive after
the party was in full swing, to be as inconspicuous as
possible.
Kirk had wondered how he would feel, seeing Larssen
again. Bringing a crew member back to the Enterprise
after any absence, even of only a day, was a matter of
relief for her captain - he liked to have every one of
his people accounted for, safe and catalogued and where
he could protect them. He was not sure if this was
how other starship captains felt about their crew, or if
it was his own individual quirk, but he never felt quite
comfortable if any one of the people listed on the
Enterprise's crew manifest was away from the ship, and
Larssen had been no exception.
When she'd left, though, he'd also been relieved. To
look at Larssen had been, every time, to look once
more at the memory of Ann Ridley, at his own failure to
do for Ann what he should have, at Ann's death.
Larssen had not been at fault, but she had been
responsible - and each time he saw her Kirk had had to
keep his own responsibility and his own fault clearly in
mind for fear he would start to blame her, the easier
path than blaming himself. Larssen's absence had let
him start to make his own peace with what had happened
and what he'd done without the constant necessity of
placing the needs of one of his officers before his own.
Now, seeing her, he was glad to realise there was no
ghost of Ann Ridley beside her. Larssen seemed taller
in the tailored Vulcan clothing, and somehow - bigger,
as if she'd broadened across the shoulders over the past
few months. He'd never seen her on ship in anything
other than work coveralls, Kirk realised, which always
seemed to be too big on her despite the wide array of
choices ship's stores presented. 'Cory the Chub', some
of the other junior officers had called her, although she
never gave a sign it bothered her at all and so he'd
never made any casual remark to indicate the captain's
opinion that it should stop.
Kirk wouldn't have called the young woman currently
fishing Yeoman Brand out of the dip 'chubby'. Bulky,
yes. The overall impression she gave was of - solidity.
He watched as she set Brand on his feet, took his drink
away from him and substituted orange juice, and turned
to greet Bai'tin and Regna
The rest of the crew were treating her with elaborate
casualness, trying and failing to act as if her presence
was unremarkable. Kirk caught glances passed behind
Larssen's back, grins and winks and gleeful nudges.
He stepped up to the raised dais at one end of the
recreation deck.
"Officers and gentlebeings," he said, and Moira the
Games Computer caught his voice and amplified it
throughout the space, "welcome home."
Cheers, whistles, a stamping of feet from one or two
enthusiastic and slightly intoxicated ensigns.
"As you all know, as well as gathering here today as
the Enterprise's traditional celebration of a new voyage
begun, we have one or two pleasant duties to perform.
First, I'd like to introduce to you your new crewmates:
Ensigns Naughton and Gryn. Ensigns, step forward,
please."
Two young persons were pushed forward by their
neighbours. Hannah Naughton, an ice blonde from one
of the Federation's winter worlds, blushed bright red at
the attention, while Fy Gryn raised his appendages in
acknowledgment of the applause and cries of 'welcome,
welcome' that echoed off the roof.
"Too late to take the easy way out now!" someone
called, and Naughton looked in that direction, still
blushing, and called "I'm Enterprise crew, we don't
*take* the easy way!" That earned her another round
of cheers.
"And secondly," Kirk went on, "you're all aware that at
Vulcan, the Enterprise took back to herself one of her
missing crew. Lieutenant Corrina Larssen -" over the
heads of the crowd he could see Larssen regarding him
levelly - "has returned from medical leave, and this
gives me the opportunity to come to my second pleasant
duty of tonight. Ms Larssen, please come forward."
The crew parted to make way for her, with touches to
the shoulder and words of approval. Kirk could see
that many were grinning openly now, and could hear
calls of "Go, Cory!", and "Well done, ma'am, well
done!" Larssen nodded and smiled politely as she
threaded her way forward and came to a stop at the foot
of the platform.
"Step forward, please, Lieutenant." Kirk said. "On
behalf of the Federation of Planets, and under the
authority of Starfleet Command, it gives me great
pleasure to award you with the Comet of Valour, first
class."
The assembled crew erupted into cheers, whistles, hoots
and howls. This was the eighth award ceremony they'd
attended in the past few months, but their enthusiasm
at seeing one of their own honoured was undimmed. As
he pinned the medal to Larssen's shirt, Kirk could
barely hear her over the noise.
"Thank you, sir." she said calmly. Her face was
composed in an expression of serene happiness, but
there was a stillness to her eyes and her bearing that
did not match it.
"You earned it, Lieutenant." Kirk said. He stepped
back slightly, and as was proper only at these times,
raised his hand to salute her rather that waiting to
return *her* salute. Larssen flushed slightly,
returned the salute and stepped off the platform.
Kirk watched as she made her way back to the corner
where she had been standing, her progress slowed by
the congratulations and embraces of her crew mates.
Larssen nodded, smiled, disentangled herself as
quickly as she could and then, on reaching the
science section officers she'd been talking to,
submitted to another round of shoulder slaps and
hugs.
Kirk stood for a moment and surveyed his crew. These
moments were among the keenest pleasures he ever felt
as captain of the Enterprise. Almost all of his crew
were here, or would be at some time during the
evening, and the recreation deck was a bustle of
greetings and news and 'how-are-you-what-did-you-get-
up-to-did-you-SEE-that-guy-in-the-bar-my-GOD-'.
There was a small group off in one corner providing
music that was inaudible from more than a few feet
away, but their enthusiasm didn't seem dimmed by their
limited audience. Martinique Duval was already living
up to her reputation, trying to coax Shimona and
Chekov into joining her in a can-can on top of the
grand piano.
"Come on, Pavel!" Kirk could hear her saying. "After
all, didn't the Russians *invent* the can-can?"
Long tables were heaped with food, bowing slightly in the
middle from the weight despite the stabilising fields Harb
Tanzer had placed beneath them, and from where he
stood Kirk could see a wide variety of human delicacies -
not to mention granite, used data solids, and something
that seemed to be an array of contained energy sources
in a kaleidoscope of solids.
He strolled over to the Jo'nadian crewmember nearest
this last selection, just as ze reached out to grasp one of
the sources with a delicately feelered hand.
"Mr N'o." Kirk said, having doubts about the 'mister'
although he knew the Jo'nadians claimed to be male - all
of them did, which raised questions about reproduction
Kirk would happily leave in the hands of xenobiologists.
"Are those to your - satisfaction?"
"Affirmative, emphatic, furry."
"Furry?" Kirk asked.
"Furry. Taste descriptive. Anglish would say: 'They
taste furry.'" N'o said.
"I'm glad." Kirk said.
"Captain, meeting, inquiry?"
"Of course. Ms Rand will arrange it - although, Mr N'o ,
if it's about your position on the promotion review list,"
Kirk said, smiling, "I don't think you need worry."
"Affirmative, satisfaction, furry." N'o said, and bustled
off, leaving Kirk mouthing 'furry' to himself, and
wondering if that meant he needed to shave.
"Captain?" It was Spock, coming up behind him as
silently as - well, as silently as a Vulcan.
"What does 'furry' mean to a Jo'nadian?" Kirk asked
him, looking around for a vegetarian canap he could
eat in the presence of his first officer. There was
something that looked like spinach on the plate behind
the chicken-with-almonds-and-don't-ask.
"It is difficult to be certain, Captain. The last time their
species tried to agree on a single definition, the holy war
lasted thirty one years."
"Ah." Spinach, but palatable spinach. Kirk reached for
another. "Everything going well?"
"I estimate the success of this crew mixer at ninety-
percent of optimal." Spock said austerely.
Given that a Vulcan ship's idea of a 'mixer' was a panel
discussion, Kirk didn't ask how it could be improved. It
had been a great step forward in Spock's relationships
with the crew when he had come to understand the end of
leave mixer as an efficient way of conducting a mass
debrief and reintegrating the crew into a functioning
whole: and consequently, begun attending them himself.
Kirk had noticed that although there was always a slight
space around the Vulcan as he moved through the
crowds, people stepping back to avoid accidental physical
contact, most of the crew would greet him, call on him to
offer an opinion on a contentious subject (and always
accepted his verdict as final) and - not treat him as one
of them, exactly, but treat him as one of *him*.
Considering that last sentence, Kirk wondered if he
needed either more or less to drink.
"Are our guests here yet?" he asked.
"Lieutenant Commander Pateman will rendezvous with
the ship and board before system exit." Spock said.
"Commodore Whittaker is already on board, but
expressed the desire to 'settle in' before attending the
mixer. I anticipate his arrival shortly."
Spock being Spock, Kirk looked automatically at the door,
and was rewarded by the sight of Whittaker's thin,
stooped form just then entering the rec deck.
"Well," he said, "I suppose I'd better go and meet and
greet."
"Indeed," Spock said, and as Kirk moved off across the
room he fell into place behind him.
On the way to the door, Kirk reviewed what he knew
about Jack Whittaker. The man had commanded a ship
early in his career, but since then he had gone on to
distinguish himself in the 'First In' service - the arm of
Starfleet that was first to land on a colony planet, first to
begin setting up a Starbase, first boots on the ground in
any Starfleet or Federation project. His presence on the
Enterprise was due to the current mission - a 'milk run'
ferrying First In services to set up the planned Starbase
34.
Whittaker taught at the Academy occasionally - the six
month missions were easier to fit in with other activities
than starship command. Whittaker was known for the
accuracy and precision of his planning, and the
unqualified success of his missions. As Kirk got close
enough to see the man's pinched, blanched features and
the razor creases on his formal dress tunic, he could
well believe it.
"Commodore," Kirk said. "Welcome aboard. I'm sorry I
wasn't able to meet you at the transporter room, but we
had a decoration service to attend to."
"Oh, that's all right, that's quite alright." Whittaker said,
blinking furiously. "I understand, I absolutely understand.
You've no doubt had quite a few of those lately."
There had been some comment among the fleet at the
number of commendations the Enterprise's last, and
particularly dramatic, diplomatic mission had produced.
The neutralisation of a serious threat to the Federation
as a whole, in almost impossible circumstances, had led
Starfleet to approve Kirk's recommendations with what
almost amounted to blithe abandon - and Kirk had taken
full advantage of the fact.
"Yes," he said. "Indeed. We had to delay this one,
because the crewmember involved was on medical leave
and only returned to the ship today, so the mixer seemed
an opportune moment."
Although he had had doubts about that, when the moment
actually came.
Still - Kirk spotted her across the room - she seemed to
be enjoying herself now.
"Captain?" Whittaker said, and Kirk realised he'd missed
a question.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Which crewmember was it who received recognition for
service this time?"
Was there a slight emphasis on 'this time'? Kirk couldn't
tell, decided to let it go.
"Lieutenant Larssen." he said. "For-"
"*Corrina* Larssen?" Whittaker said. "You have
*Corrina* Larssen serving on this ship?"
"Yes," Kirk said, "For nearly nine months now."
"Well, Captain, I certainly do envy you. I remember her
from the Academy. A *most* interesting girl, *most*
interesting indeed." Whittaker stepped closer to Kirk and
lowered his voice. "You know what they used to call her?
'Lay Down Larssen'! 'Lay Down Larssen', would you
believe? Oh, yes, Captain, you're certainly lucky to have
*her* aboard. She should settle any morale problems
you have!" He nudged Kirk, and winked broadly.
Seeming not to notice the captain's sudden glare, he went
on: "Well, I certainly must - re-acquaint - myself with
Ms Larssen. If you'll excuse me, Captain, Commander
Spock?" And without waiting for an answer he strolled
away.
"What," Kirk said evenly, "was that about? Spock?"
Before Spock could formulate an answer, he was
staggered forward by a mighty blow to his back.
"Well, boys, an' it's good to be here. Have you got a
drink for a parched soldier?" boomed a hearty voice.
"Spock," said Kirk very quietly as they both turned to
greet the newcomer, "you didn't tell me it was Lieutenant
Commander *Harry* Pateman."
Spock raised an eyebrow helplessly as his hand was
seized and firmly shaken. Next it was Kirk's turn, and he
was astounded to realise that Pateman was giving him -
surely not - a *Masonic* handshake.
"Drink, lads, drink!" Pateman bellowed. "Wha' do I have
to do to get a drink on this ship?"
"Refrain from striking a superior officer?" Kirk
suggested, smiling.
"By god, I'll have to go teetotal, then." Pateman said,
unperturbed. "I saw you meeting Jack Whittaker, our
friend an' yourn, and I thought to meself, I'll just lurk
about here in the corridor until he's gone his merry way
and then step in smart like in and introduce meself to the
powers that be. And here I am. And here thou art. So
there we are." Pateman grinned at them, showing far too
many large and yellowed teeth.
There was, Kirk thought, no point fighting Harry
Pateman. One *endured* Harry Pateman, who had risen
through the non-commissioned ranks to Commodore
(although he had clearly since been demoted) on sheer
brilliance and a size ten personality. The best thing to do
with Harry Pateman was to give in graciously, retire
from the field, and wait for him to go away. And when
they reached the proposed site for Starbase 34, Kirk
knew, Pateman would indeed leave.
He was composing a polite farewell when Pateman,
looking over his shoulder, stilled. He was still smiling -
at least, he was still bearing his teeth.
"Now what's tha' pillock Jack Whittaker up to now?" he
asked.
Kirk turned to see. "He's talking to Ms Larssen." he
said. "Apparently he knew her when she was a cadet."
"Oh, aye. Happen he did." Pateman said, unimpressed.
"So did I. I was her Commander first and final year, as it
turned out. She scrubs up nice, doan't she? I'll wager
that's what Whittaker's thinking right now, matter of
fact."
"He said -" Kirk started, and then stopped. No point in
spreading Whittaker's poisonous remarks any further.
"That she'd spread her legs for any as happened past?
Aye, I daresay he might say that." Pateman said. "She
were a proper little whore when she had a drink in her -
Whittaker was at me to put her on report for drunk an'
disorderly any number of times. Course, he never
wanted the boys buyin' her the drinks to have any blemish
on their records. Turned out all right, did she?"
"Lieutenant Larssen is a most competent officer." Spock
said forbiddingly.
"Oh, aye." Pateman said, scratching his buttocks
reflectively. "Never should have let women into Starfleet,
that's the plain truth of it."
This, Kirk was not prepared to let got. "I have never met
a female officer any whit less competent than her male
colleagues -" he started, and found Pateman regarding
him with a surprisingly shrewd gaze.
"Oh, I'm sure of, I'm sure. Nothing against girls in
uniform, although girls out of uniform is a prettier sight,
if you ask me. They do a fine job, no doubt. But it isn't
fair on them, when you get down to it. You get a nice
lass like Larssen, now, legs on her that'll stop traffic and
tits out to there, and you take her at seventeen and stick
her in a group of hormonally challenged boys who'll do
anything to get a break from their own right hand, and
what happens? Jack Whittaker wants me to put *her* on
report. Oh, aye, we're not ready for them. And now,
gentlemen, I have to see a man about a dog."
He strode off through the room, scattering crew aside
like ten-pins, until he reached Jack Whittaker. Whittaker
was standing very close to Lieutenant Larssen, leaning
over her, and although she seemed composed Kirk could
see that she was trying to edge away.
Pateman slapped Whittaker on the back as he had Spock,
causing the Commodore to spill his drink down his
front - mostly on his crotch, Kirk was amused to see.
"Oh, aye, Jack, good to see you, how've you been, tell
me, did that nasty infection you got from that little girl
on Regilus Ten ever clear up? Or are you still having
trouble with the incontinence?" Pateman's whisper could
be heard in every corner of the rec deck.
"I didn't - I never-" Whittaker said, white with rage.
"Never had it seen to? Oh, Jack, now that's no way to
take care of yersel'! I know it's embarrassing to admit to
that sort of thing, particularly with tha' discharge an' all,
but really, doctors are trained to ignore the smell."
"I- I-" Whittaker said, and then fled.
Pateman watched him narrowly until he went out the door,
then turned to Larssen and said something in a low voice.
Satisfied, he made his way towards the drinks table,
pausing on the way to squeeze Uhura's buttocks and
plant a kiss on Chekov's cheek, leaving both rigid with
shock.
"Spock-" Kirk started to say, and then stopped as
Larssen came level with them, accompanied by Ms Regna
and making a beeline for the door. "Ms Larssen, are you
all right?"
"Yes, sir." she said, meeting his eyes calmly. "Ms Regna
was just walking me to my quarters."
"Please don't feel you have to leave because - of Mr
Pateman. Did he say something offensive to you?" That,
Kirk thought, was a safe bet, and telling her she didn't
need to leave because of Whittaker would let her know
that he had a fair idea of the subject of the Commodore's
conversation with her - and why Whittaker had brought it
up.
"No, sir." Larssen said.
"No?" Kirk blinked. "What did he say?"
"He said that if he saw me the worse for drink he'd knock
me through another wall." Larssen said mildly. "I'm just
going to fetch some things I brought from down planet. I
don't feel I need to leave, sir."
"Oh," said Kirk, feeling slightly foolish. 'Oh, well, good."
He watched her as she went out, walking with her usual
deliberation.
Ten minutes later, Regna returned.
Kirk kept an eye on the door for the rest of the evening,
but he didn't see Larssen again.