Robin Curtis is coming to my town! ROBIN'S COMING HERE IN A COUPLE WEEKS! I so wish I had finished this in time, but I decided to print a Volume 1 of what I have so far and get her autograph on it! Just felt like sharing that.

USS Enterprise, Bridge

His rear never touched the seat because Kirk got immediately to his feet again. His brain locked on to the sight on the main viewscreen.

The Contact's captain was a woman.

A very attractive woman.

Starfleet didn't have women captains in this time.

And Vulcan.

Other than the erstwhile Intrepid, no Vulcan commanded a starship.

No Vulcan period commanded a strongly mixed crew with a large number of non-Vulcans.

And that uniform…

Because of no women captains, she uniquely wore a command green dress that had to be designed for her. It… drew attention. The V-neckline plunged perhaps a little farther than his - or he imagined it did, but with the same thin line of black showing. His tunic wrapped around his waist, but hers secured around her hips with her ship's emblem. She had the same gold piping around the entire wrapped section and neck, plus the captain's stripes on her sleeves. Then the same black stockings down her long legs meeting the higher heeled boots women wore.

The Contact's emblem appeared to be a takeoff of the old broadcasting towers on Earth, with the transmission waves coming off the top of the command insignia, which lay inside a circle and an orbiting ring.

Not that he looked closely.

"Your captain," Kirk said under his breath in an aside to the older Spock, "is…"

He missed the younger Spock's appreciation and the very male look that the older one managed to aim at his wife with no one noticing.

"Yes, she is." Spock suddenly narrowed his eyes at that tone and the way it appreciatively drew off, but Kirk didn't see that either.

The younger Spock talked without knowing it. "A Vulcan female…"

The whirring sound of a Feinberger snapped his attention back to the bridge. "Dr. McCoy, what is your purpose with this scan?"

McCoy smirked. "Checking your pulse rate and respiration. I got concerned noticing your reaction."

Kirk heard that old exasperation in his first officer's voice. "Doctor, it is simply interesting to see someone of one's own kind reach an achievement that previously belonged solely to another group. The captain of the Contact has done so twice over, both for her gender and for her being Vulcan."

"Uh huh. You know she can hear you."

His head swung to the screen again and he sounded defensive. "You understand, Captain, I meant no offense."

Her dark eyes looked back at him calmly. "You need not be concerned. I am familiar with such comments from Dr. McCoy. Your statement, in fact, honored me, and I understand the thought. It is why I tell you two hundred and ninety-four Vulcans serve on the Contact, including those of mixed blood."

"I…" the hesitation spoke of how much that affected him, "am gratified by these facts of our future."

Kirk gave her one of his best smiles and strode closer to the main screen to introduce himself. "James T. Kirk, captain of the Enterprise."

She walked towards the screen like he had. She moved with both grace and confidence, all female and captain. She dipped her head like a bow. "It is my privilege. Saavik, captain of the Contact."

Kirk usually went for blondes with big blue eyes; that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the waves of dark curls around her shoulders, in a style simpler than some of the women wore.

McCoy leaned over his shoulder and whispered, "Jim, your mouth is hanging open."

No, it wasn't, but Kirk took Bones' point. His smile became professional. "Spock said you needed to talk, that you had a message for me."

"Yes, I do. An unfortunate one." Even with the emotional disciplines, she conveyed she honestly regretted what she was going to say. "I will not be beaming over with my officers. I have a saboteur in concealment and I have the damage he has done to my ship."

Kirk heard the sound of a true captain in those words: the Contact was hers like the Enterprise was his.

"Commander Imre, my first officer, would do well in seeing to our efforts in my place, but as you know, we do not have first officers to avoid duty."

"No, we don't." For the first time, he thought about it from her viewpoint and what it had to be like over there. "It's a shame you won't be with your party. I would have liked a chance to talk face to face, but... I understand. I'd do the same. Any real captain would."

She nodded in appreciation for his thoughtfulness.

"Spock – your Mr. Spock," her eyebrows seemed to lift at that, "tells me you've made progress."

"We have. I will tell you in full when you convene in your briefing room. Allow me a minimal amount of time to meet with my officers before they transport to your ship. My communications officer will then connect me with the conference."

"We'll talk then. Oh-" he stopped her from signing off. "You said your first officer was Commander… Imre?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, he does not meet the current Starfleet requirements, so he cannot attend either. We thought to show myself when I do not meet captaincy standards was sufficient for the moment. Perhaps later."

"I hope so, although I'm glad Starfleet continues to diversify."

She started to say something when she suddenly looked down at herself. "Yes, of course. The uniform."

He wondered if someone had stared at her in it or did she take the diversification comment to a logical conclusion: a woman captain and her dress? "What about it?"

But it wasn't that. "It appears non-regulation. However, my Wardrobe department assured me Starfleet Command has authorized the creation of any necessary designs, in both my time and yours."

Kirk pretended to look at the Spocks while he tried to decide if smiling gave the wrong message. He figured a small one, captain to captain, was fine. "I honestly wasn't worried about it. It's understandable, regulation or not."

The older Spock interjected. "In fact, the uniform suits you well."

She gave him a raised brow look as Kirk decided it was best to leave it there. Especially with McCoy picking his jaw up off the floor over Spock ever saying such a thing. "We'll talk soon. Kirk out."

He always agreed that it was unfair Starfleet didn't allow for women captains. Janice Lester had tortured and punished him over it. He wished she could see this woman in command of her bridge.

Saavik walked into Stewart's office and froze in the doorway lest she'd get run over. The compact blond woman that was her Chief Medical Officer buzzed around grabbing things like she packed for an extended stay on the Enterprise. Her captain quietly lowered a duffel bag on a chair out of the way for now.

Frances' entire face was taken up by her smile. "I am so excited by this. I can't believe we have this opportunity in the middle of all this mess." She handed Saavik the tricorder from her things. "Look at that! Did you ever work with that model?"

Saavik's eyes took on a soft life as she took the black box in her hands. Yes, she had known this model, when she'd traded her knife for Spock's tricorder on Hellguard. It had seemed like a marvel, a device that would tell her things. It started everything to which she dedicated her life. Humans joked about operating something blindfolded, but Saavik could truly work her old device as blind as Bimojigar. She had kept hers for years until it was lost on the Grissom.

But that was private and not what the doctor meant anyway. "Starfleet no longer used it when I entered the Academy. In fact, I used three different models by the time I was first assigned to Vulcan."

After Genesis.

She put the tricorder down on the desk and noticed the set of large Vulcan six-sided die in the back corner, inside its tejQ game board with raised edges. She knew T'Selis, a healer close to the family, had given this as a gift to her first human friend. The dice were carved with Vulcan script and a set of dots representing a cardinal number since Frances still learned Vulcan. Stewart had talked about taking T'allendil up on her offer to play so she'd get better. She must have been serious – about being tired of losing to T'Selis.

Saavik nearly picked up a die, not to throw, but to hold. It wasn't one of her favorite games, but the children learned the youth's version. Somehow, it would… connect her to them. In the end, she didn't give into the impulse.

Frances checked a portable kit with a complement of medical tools used in this time period. She especially checked the hypospray and the serum ampoules.

Saavik watched her snap the cover closed and secure it on her hip. "Why are you taking a medkit to a starship with a fully functioning Sickbay?"

Frances glanced down at it. "I'm bringing what they won't have. Medicine's changed."

"Stewart—"

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. But if something comes up that they haven't seen before or even if the person's not what they've seen before, I'm ready."

Saavik read between the lines. Only three people with McCoy were anything he hadn't seen already. "I am not sending you to the Enterprise to check on my children."

She got a smile. "I didn't say you were."

"Dr. McCoy is an excellent physician."

Frances plopped down into her chair. "Nobody better. What does he call the kids' biological makeup?"

Saavik's lips thinned. "Genetic soup."

"Right. You know, he told me once that he used to feel uncertain back then – well, now – when he treated Vulcans. Twisted Vulcan systems and – what was it?"

Her captain held on to calm. "Crazy Vulcan readings that he was unsure he trusted. It is his humor - it is how he handles situations."

"Yep, and if I thought of all this, you definitely did. So what's in the bag?"

She'd better leave that unanswered. "Dr. McCoy has recently performed heart surgery on Sarek. My children are in good hands. Spock would have said if it were otherwise."

"That's true too."

"Doctor," she told Stewart firmly, "you are a Starfleet officer, so am I. I do not send you to check on my children."

Frances pushed up from the chair. "No, I'm going because I have information to share and see what I can do to help. And if I happen to stop by and see the kids, it's a bonus."

Is that a lie for my sake? At least partially. After all, Stewart knew McCoy, so meeting him now held less attraction than for the rest of the away team. She said that out loud.

"Captain, are you serious? A chance to see McCoy in charge of his Sickbay? No one would miss that, any more than you would miss out on the chance to be on that bridge if duty didn't keep you here. Spock's old science station? Kirk's command chair? At least you'd get to talk to them personally."

My being near Spock's younger self is actually a danger. Because if they got close enough, he'd recognize the part of him she mentally carried as part of their bond.

But Stewart still talked, "Come on, that would be amazing for you. Plus, I have this new information on our saboteur to discuss, and the toll this situation can take on the mindsets of both crews. Like you said, it's not a social visit. Although if one of us has the blues, I'm sending them to Wardrobe to absorb the atmosphere. It's like Fair days back home down there! Suppo says they're the only department having a good day. Now the away t— landing party is too."

She finished loading data into the old style tricorder, then she turned it around in her hands to look at it from all sides. She had the Feinberger out and scanned down her body when Saavik spoke gently.

"Frances."

Stewart's head snapped to her at the sound of her first name. Saavik took a step closer. "It is the Enterprise. I understand the impact it has for you."

Because Frances Stewart was one of five survivors of the Enterprise-C who Captain Garrett sent to Vulcan with a dying Saavik. Now, to go aboard an Enterprise again when everyone she knew and loved on her ship was killed at Narendra III defending the Klingons.

But Stewart shook her head slightly and sadly. "It's not my Enterprise. It's like I told you before, there're more memories here on the Contact than over there." Since the Contact was the same class ship. "I also said I'm very glad for the refit because now it doesn't look like my Enterprise anymore. I don't wait around for Dr. Aristide to come out of his office or Captain Garrett to come down saying we have an alien I need to talk to." She shook her head again, this time with a little sad smile. "I always got the aliens. It's how I got you."

And passed her on to T'Selis' care, starting that friendship.

Saavik said nothing. She simply stood near the doctor and gave her time to live the memory. In another moment, Frances gave a real smile with just the background of it affected by her loss.

"I promised you before and I'm saying it again now. If any of that changes or if their name being Enterprise starts to affect me, I'll let you know and we'll send someone to replace me. Shame it can't be Ssaalz. It would be a great learning experience all around. In the meantime, I'm going. I'll see how the kids are mentally and physically because I'm concerned about their mentalities with all they've been through. Then I'll give the information we have on Frubria along with T'allendil. They'll be a new set of eyes. I'm hoping we'll figure out how we're still missing this man on our scans. Now then, bag." She held out a hand.

Saavik prepared to deny it again when Stewart interrupted her. "Saavik, haven't you considered that McCoy will be glad you sent me prepped for the kids? You think he likes having things on his scans he doesn't know or how they might affect Setik and the girls? He could ask us for the information or have Spock get it, but this way, he not only gets the data he wants but someone with practical experience with it too. That's something Spock doesn't have. Think about it, what would the McCoy you know say?"

"Don't be so damned Vulcan and send me something I'll understand. I feel like I'm looking at their readings upside down. Do you know how many admirals would send me the whole damned fleet if their kids were in my Sickbay? Don't quote your husband either. He's there with them, it's different for him. So send that doctor or else. Conduct becoming an officer, my ass."

Saavik gave into the maternal instinct. "You have their records?"

"On the tricorder. The Romulan elements have no names attached, but all readouts, base levels, all of it is there. Thankfully you keep a copy of their records in the system."

Since Stewart obviously wasn't their pediatrician and normally would not have their documents; but the children did come on board occasionally and their mother didn't want wasted time waiting for files if an emergency happened.

Saavik nodded and reached back for the duffel. "You can give this to Spock."

Stewart's face and hands burrowed into the bag. "Whoever sees them first. What are these?" She pulled out one of the black and red readers, looking slightly like a tricorder. Saavik began to show her how to use it when Frances found out on her own. She became a kid with a new toy all over again. "We really need to figure out a way to remember all this when we reset time! I know Dr. McCoy is going to say something I'll want to tease him about when we get back."

She looked Saavik up and down and didn't bother trying to bite back her grin. Saavik turned her head in question, but only got a shake of the head. "Never mind. Are you coming down to the transport station?"

"I am." She picked up the duffel.

Frances noticed it. "I'll take it."

They left her office for the short walk to the transporter station. Stewart glanced again at Saavik and bit her lip before she managed to force casualness. "Is it true Imre won't stand close to you now?"

"Yes," Saavik answered calmly. "He had Suppo explain it is a personal discomfort, based on his height in reference to mine with the boots and shorter length of the dress."

"Mmm hmm," Stewart mumbled around tearing eyes and a struggle not to laugh. "It would be a bit pervy if he didn't say something and took advantage."

Saavik stopped. "His discomfort is not a matter for humor."

The doctor nodded quickly. "Right. Of course not." As they walked on, though, she tossed out the comment, "You know, it's a bit funny. Poor guy."

Kamila Patrik's voice filtered out the open transporter room door. "You can grin, Kyle. You still have pants. Look at this uniform! My legs are freezing, this skirt shows you what underwear I got on, and I have no idea how women handled combat situations with the heels on these boots! I'll snap an ankle if I have to go up against anybody. I'm betting they counted on stunning their opponents by bending over and flashing them."

Nachson asked, "Do you want my pants?"

"Very funny. I should take them so you'd know how this feels."

Rebekah Gad, Ambassador Spock's diplomatic aide, said, "They put me in uniform. I'm really sorry about that. But it's these hairstyles that get me. It took two hairstylists helping me to get ready on time."

Someone, most likely Lieutenant Siwili Dardar, Thalla's replacement, said, "I do like the ship's insignia. It's a good design."

Patrik must have looked down at it too. "It is a shame we can't keep it."

Kyle Nachson's gravelly voice was its usual even keel. "Relax, Kamila. At least you're not the captain and T'allendil. The temperature's already bad for a Vulcan and now they've added a breeze."

Saavik walked through the door and saw Stewart ahead of her give them a silencing, chopping motion. "Are we ready?"

The transporter chief nodded. "They're picking them up, Captain, as you asked. Just like with the ambassador. Everyone remember you have to stay still until the transport finishes. No moving around at all like you can in ours."

Saavik made her way to the pads as Patrik, Sotraun, T'allendil, and Gad took their places. She grabbed each officer with her pointed stare. "I remind you that these are Starfleet uniforms. You will show them the respect you give our own and you will not disgrace them."

A chorus of "Yes, Captain" and "Of course, Captain" answered her.

Gad apologized again for being in uniform. "I have information to give Ambassador Spock, but if I went as his diplomatic aide, everyone would know he left Starfleet, so they thought it'd be better to look like I'm in the Science department. I'm sorry, Captain. It's wrong, a civilian wearing a uniform I didn't earn."

"Do not be concerned, Miss Gad. We understand. My uniform did not exist until today, nor did the Contact's emblem. We all break new ground together."

Patrik and Nachson finally took real notice of what she was wearing and repeated Stewart's earlier looking her up and down. Patrik got the same grin while Kyle gave a real sigh. "The poor ambassador."

Saavik frowned. "Spock? Why do you say so?"

"He's missing out, that's all."

"Mr. Nachson, Spock has seen me."

"Well, there's seeing and then there's seeing in person."

Stewart got in place, grinning again, especially when Saavik obviously didn't understand. "I thought Suppo and the Wardrobe staff got all excited over something he said."

Saavik thought back. "He said the uniform suited me well."

Frances tried to casually wave off Gad to keep her giggle quiet. "Captain? I should let Ambassador Spock tell you — husband's prerogative, right? – but reverse the two of you in the uniform."

Saavik imagined her husband in the form fitting tunic, a V-neck revealing chest hair, and the equally fitted trousers.

If that weren't enough: the form-fitting green tunic.

Green. The color representing Vulcan's passion.

Her eyebrows rose quickly at the mental picture. Her eyes moved to Stewart. "Understood."

She got another smile. "Thought so."

She saw T'allendil also look far away, no doubt imagining her own husband, and then met Saavik's gaze, one Vulcan woman to another. Sotraun equally gazed into the distance. He was a widower, so she had no idea who his thoughts were for. His late wife or did someone new draw his attention? Whoever the person was, he, of course, kept himself controlled, although he did take a minute to come back from where his mind had taken him.

It was none of her business.

Saavik watched Nachson take her spot at the lead point. Duty did not allow for anything like… want.

Perhaps he caught that because he looked right at her suddenly with a small smile. "Make you proud, Captain."

She suddenly realized he had never called her by name. Thinking about it, she remembered being told that Mr. Scott called Captain Kirk by name only once. "I expect it."

The easy going smile turned to an easy going grin. "Oh Captain, our captain."

If we are to misquote Terran literature, then 'I seem to have gathered up a stray in my arms.'

"Medieval." Saavik signaled the transporter chief who contacted the Enterprise.

As Gad spoke quietly with T'allendil and Sotraun about not only meeting a younger Spock but if they were lucky, the younger Sarek, Saavik said calmly to her navigator, "Having said what I did earlier, Mr. Patrik, the woman's uniform is more… ventilated."

The thin shoulders inside the gold dress relaxed. "I swear," Kamila Patrik stated, "the draft goes right up your—"

The transporter beam cut off the rest.