Let's Go Thataway!

Chapter Fourteen - We Are Not a Cruise Ship

Enterprise

Oct 2264

Kirk

He fumed. He read the orders again and fumed some more. He got up and stomped around his office, kicking the furniture. He heard a small cough and looked up. There, in the doorway, stood Spock, his hands behind his back in his normal stance, one long slanted eyebrow raised. He said nothing, just stood there looking. Jim reached over onto his desk, grabbed the PADD with the decoded orders and slung it at Spock, who caught it neatly out of the air without seeming to move at all. Spock's eyes swept down the displayed text and then he lifted his head.

"Fourteen different delegations? Clear across Beta Quadrant? Has StarFleet Command become senile?"

"We're not a damn cruise ship! We don't go on sight-seeing missions! What the heck are they thinking?"

"I believe I just expressed that sentiment."

"Yeah, well, express it again." He flung himself down in his chair, making it creak alarmingly. "This is just stupid!"

"These do, nevertheless, appear to be valid orders."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

"I believe that I just did."

Jim sighed. Was this guy never going to learn to interpret slang?

***

He looked around the ready room at his senior staff. Everyone, except Spock, was looking at him expectantly. He ran his hands through his hair, trying to stay calm and collected. "Okay, people, here's our next assignment. We head for Gamma Hydra IV, right on this edge of Beta Quadrant, and we pick up fourteen different sets of delegates and head right straight across the quadrant to Delta Emtens III, where we deliver them. We'll have roughly sixty delegates of every description imaginable on board for about nine days. And we haven't got a dribble of information on any of them."

The minute he stopped talking, noise erupted all over the room. He slumped back down in his chair, his legs sprawled out and let them just go at it. He knew exactly how they felt.

Nyota

Armed with the list of delegate planets, she began to research languages. She had only three days to figure out how to communicate with fourteen different species! Whose idiotic idea was this? She sent one of her subordinates to the bridge, much to Kirk's dismay, and spent all her time trying to prepare for the onslaught. When her time ran out, she still had no language data whatsoever on six of the species. Just terrific!

Susan

She had scoured StarFleet records to try to find out what these blasted delegates ate. She had nine 'mixers' to prepare finger foods for, and she really didn't want to kill anyone. Not to mention all the regular meals! When Scotty poked his head in the door in the middle of the afternoon, she just growled at him and he ducked right back out. But when her shift was over, and she collected the baby from the day care center and arrived back at their quarters, she found a tankard of a very lovely, dark thick beer waiting for her. Beer was supposed to be good for nursing mothers, too. She settled down on the couch with her son and her beer, sighing happily.

Tamara

Somehow she had gotten the assignment of deciding where each delegation would stay, so that those who were antagonistic to each other did not encounter the others in the halls any oftener than necessary. Why she had gotten this assignment, she had no idea. She finally had a chart assembled that showed all the alliances and treaties between these delegates, now to figure out where to put them. She was sitting at her desk, head in hands, when Len sauntered in. "What's going on, beautiful?"

"I'm at my wits' end here. This is hard to figure out."

"Tell me about it. I have to figure out how not to kill fourteen different species if any of them get sick or injured. I've been hip-deep in research ever since that damn meeting."

"Join the crowd."

Spock

He had spent his time checking on all the necessary protocols and dealing with Security, being sure that the delegates would be protected from each other as well as possible. He did well remember some of the tales his father had told about similar trips. Tomorrow was going to be ...interesting.

Kirk

He stood at attention in the transporter bay most of the day, welcoming one party of delegates after another. Every fifteen to thirty minutes another group came through. He smiled until his face hurt. He bowed and scraped and did whatever silly greeting-thing Uhura told him to. And felt absolutely stupid about the whole thing. Spock stood beside him, as cool as a cucumber. Didn't anything bother that guy? And Uhura filled the transporter bay with the oddest assortment of sounds he could imagine. There were only a few times she resorted to Standard, and thankfully the delegates so addressed seemed to expect it. When the last group was on board and being escorted to their quarters, he sagged against the console in relief. Behind him, he heard Scotty exclaim "tha's the last of 'em, thank goodness."

"Is it time to go get drunk yet?"

Scotty came around and beamed at him. "Sounds like a right idea to me."

Spock glared at them. "There is a reception in half an hour. Both of you must be there in your dress uniforms and sober."

"Spoil sport!" but they both trudged off to their quarters to change, while Spock and Nyota went to theirs.

****

It wasn't until very late in the evening that most of the senior staff settled down around a table in the rec room, exhausted from dealing with the delegates. Scotty set a large flagon down in the center of the table and someone else hurried to get glasses. Soon everyone was sitting back, much mellower. Only another eight days of this!

The Usual Cast of Suspects

The days dragged on. As expected, there was one minor emergency after another. The senior staff worked hard at defusing tense situations and keeping the peace. And when the last of the delegates was beamed off the Enterprise, there was a grand celebration.

Now they could go back to doing what they were really out here for!