Stardate 2242.306: Riverside, Iowa
Three days after the breach in the Iowa Shipyard's firewall, an investigation team was sent to identify the problem and block further attacks on their system. Despite the odd request, Admiral Connors had allowed Pike to accompany them. So Pike now found himself pulling up to the address Sam had sent him, over his personal line this time, in a sleek Starfleet vehicle that stood out from the barren fields like a green Selay on a Class P planet.
As soon as he pulled up, a lengthy figure tore out of the small, rickety house and down towards Pike's car.
"Captain Pike, Sir," Sam greeted, giving him a mock salute. Sam was beyond excited to see a real Starfleet Captain, even though he would deny it if he was asked. He barely believed it when the captain had told him of his plan to come over from London to help him and Jamie. When he had asked for help, he had thought the most Captain Pike would do was refer their problem to someone else.
"Sam, I presume," Pike guessed. He was not blind to the similarities Sam had to the pictures of his father, which were plentiful.
"Yes, Sir," a further reply was cut off by a small girl running down the same path Sam had taken.
"Sam!" the mass of curls and legs called.
"Jamie," Sam called back. "Come meet the captain."
Jamie came to a halt right in front of the stiffly-dressed man and cocked her head up at him. "Hello," she said.
Chris smiled, "Hello, Jamie." This was the girl born during a lightening storm in space. Pike thought it suited her quite nicely. He bent down to look her in the face. Her resemblance, while less noticeable was founded in her eyes. "Your brother tells me you like your languages class."
She beamed, revealing a missing left incisor. "Yes, Sir. We are learning—"
"Get the hell back in here, you little shit, and finish making lunch, unless you don't want your sister to eat for the next three days," a slightly slurred, very loud voice threatened from the screen door. Sam's back went ramrod straight and a fire burned in his eyes.
Pike stood up, "Frank Davis?"
Startled at hearing an unfamiliar voice, Frank stumbled onto the 5'x5' porch. "Who the hell are you?"
The captain quickly took measure of the man. He was barefooted, suggesting he was not planning on wearing shoes for at least the next few hours. His grey wife beater had what appeared to be a beer stain about halfway down his shirt, the slight crescent shape indicating it was spilled over the top of his pot belly while he was reclining, most likely to watch the game. There were also grease spots in the shape of fingers which meant that while Sam had just been ordered to make food for his sister, their Uncle had already eaten. The louder volume coming from the house and the number of cars in their drive correlated with the presence of company. The loose way he gripped his beer bottle suggested that it wasn't his first, and the shiny look to his short hair gave away that he hadn't showered in at least twenty-four hours. Given that it was nearly three on a Saturday, this would mean that he hadn't bathed since he had gotten off from whatever manual labor job he managed to keep as it was clear he didn't have the brains or habits to be white collar.
"My name is Christopher Pike, Captain of the USS Truman, and representative of the Starfleet Board of Financial Pensions, given to children under the age of eighteen who have lost one or more of their parents while serving under Starfleet's command," Pike lied, but there wasn't any way that this man would even think to check his credentials, and Starfleet would never find out about the real reason he requested to go to Riverside, Iowa. "This is a routine check up on the mental health of those such children and the physical environment they are living in."
"Bullshit," Frank sputtered. "I ain't ever had a thing like that before. And I've been getting pensions like that for nearly a decade."
"Then on behalf of Starfleet, I apologize for neglecting your household for so long. It is truly our fault that we have yet to come out, but it has just been brought to our attention that Winona Kirk is not in residence over fifty percent of the year as she too is working off world as part of our interplanetary relations core. In such a situation, regulation has to be followed." As Pike was saying this, he was walking towards the house, making his plan to enter very clear.
"You can't just come barging in here, I know my rights."
"Of course, sir." Pike gritted his teeth at the respectful address. "Then I will simply inform the Board to stop all reparation-checks to the Kirk children by request of their co-guardian."
Pike will admit, it was damn good to see the color drain from the face of that deplorable excuse for a man. Shakily, Frank opened the door in invitation. Chris looked over his shoulder at Sam and winked before going in.
The smell hit Pike first: rotting wood, cigarette smoke, cheap whiskey and something else equally as foul. The two kids entered behind Pike, but neither flinched at the odor.
"If you can lead me to their sleeping quarters, we can get this over and you can get back to your company," Pike's words were worded as a suggestion but the tone and delivery clearly made them orders.
The small bedroom held to twin beds, a small dresser and an even smaller desk. Pike frowned but checked the door nob. The lock that Sam had mentioned was intact, but so were the shallow indents on the outside of the door. They moved on to the bathroom, which was so unsanitary it almost made him puke. Then they moved to the kitchen.
"When was the last time you went shopping?" Pike motioned to the nearly empty fridge. Well, empty of food.
"We were just planning one, actually."
Pike opened a milk carton and smelt it, immediately yanking it back at the foul stench. He smiled tightly as he reattached the lid. "I'm sure you'll put milk on that list as well."
"The top," Frank gave his own fake smile.
Walking out of the kitchen, Pike called, "Where are their backpacks?"
Pike watched as he once again scrambled for a lie.
"I assume you bought them the necessary school supplies this fall."
"Times have been a little tight," Frank quickly defended.
Pike only nodded, "But you have portioned out enough to buy them new winter clothes, correct? Winters get harsh in the Midwest."
"Of course," Frank lied.
"Good," Pike said sarcastically. "There's one more place I'd like to check. The electrical box."
Frank looked confused but did as the captain wanted. When they were safely outside, Pike made his move. He threw Frank up against the house.
"You see, what I don't understand is, those checks are more than enough to make sure you are never 'tight' Mr. Davis."
"They just haven't been enough, that's not my problem."
"No, but it is my problem. My problem is seeing you waste all that money on your booze and cigarettes when your children are barely getting by. And you know what happens when I have a problem, Mr. Davis?" As Frank continued to struggle against his hold, Pike yanked him forward only to slam him back even harder this time.
"What the hell do you want, man?" Frank cried pathetically.
"I want to see a house cleaner coming in once every week. I want to see that fridge stocked with food, real food. I want to see Jamie in whatever extracurricular activities Sam sees fit. And I want you to stop hosting events with your sorry ass friends with the kids in the house. Do you understand me?"
Frank looked pissed.
"I will be back in six months, if I find that even one of my demands were not met, I will have your pension cut off before you can even curse the day you met me. Do I make myself clear?"
Frank nodded, obviously realizing he couldn't win this fight.
Pike dropped his hold on him and took three steps away before turning back. "And one more thing," the captain drew his phaser and aimed it right in between Frank's eyebrows.
"Shit," Frank scrambling back against the house, his hand clawing at the sitting.
"You even think about touching that little girl, I swear to God I will blow your head off."
Chris walked away, leaving the pitiful man to fall into the fetal position.
"Sam," he called as he came back into the house. Sam had made a can of soup and he and Jamie were currently eating as fast as they could in the corner of the kitchen. Frank's friends obviously drunk in the next room.
"Sir," Sam acknowledged as he walked in.
"I talked to your Uncle, things should get better around here real soon. If they don't call me, and even if I can't handle it, I promise you I will send someone who can."
Sam nodded.
Pike glanced down at his watch, "I need to go, Son." His ride was scheduled to leave in less than two hours. "Listen," he pulled out the flyer he had printed off. "They have karate for younger kids and I figured you could use the gym while she was at class. If you can't always be around to protect her, teach her to protect herself."
"Sir, this is going to be too expensive—"
"It's an international chain, I put you two on my membership."
Sam's head snapped up, "Really?"
Pike placed his hand on Sam's shoulder. "You're not alone anymore, Son. If you need anything, comm me."
Pike then moved to bend once again to talk to the girl. "Jamie, if you ever need help with your languages, my friend Lieutenant Finnlay would be more than happy to help. He knows over thirty different dialects."
"That's so cool," Jamie said, smiling again.
As Pike left, he knew something in his had changed as well. These two kids were going to be his, no matter what anyone else had to say about it.
