Title: An Intergalactic Fandom (#37, J 'N B Series)
Author: klmeri
Fandom: Star Trek AOS
Characters: Kirk fans
Summary: Comment!fic based on a pic prompt at jim_and_bones of Pine on the red carpet; Jim Kirk is appreciated by many, far and wide.

It's a simple fact, really. The people who know Jim personally love him. Then there are those who do not know him personally in the least and love him even more.

Is that really him? I think that's really him!

How would I know?

Zaaaekbehd! Why did you switch the channel?

There is nothing interesting about those creatures.

Put it back nowww! I was watching!

Your mind is filled with nonsense.

Outraged squawks and squabbling ensues. Somewhere in the galaxy, a ship wobbles in space. Then, Fine! Watch the stupid humans! I am leaving.

There comes a loud screech of glee, that which could surely be heard across the Beta quadrant if sound waves could travel through space. It goes like this: "Eeeeeeeeeee! It's CAPTAIN KIRK!"

The tables and chairs of a small bookshop in Riverside, Iowa are overflowing. The manager—not a native to Riverside but a man who saw lucrative opportunity in a small town—couldn't be more pleased. Even if no one is buying from the inventory of intergalactic literature he invested in for the year, the built-in cafe is running out of coffee cups and snacks. Happily, he has sent two harried employees to fetch more foodstuff to sell.

Today is the renowned Celebration of Life of one James Tiberius Kirk, e.g. the birthday of the most famous starship captain from planet Earth. That he is also young and handsome and considered virile by many, many housewives through the Federation is simply a point in Kirk's favor.

And the manager's—especially since he had that mural painted on the wall to immortalize the Captain's face. A skirmish almost broke earlier as the females vied for a prized seat next to that wall.

Catching the arm of another employee, one who looks near to tears, the manager demands, "Are they ready yet?"

"Yes, Mr. Mudd," the employee replies meekly.

"Good, good. Bring them in. Our customers are waiting!"

The employee scurries away to do the bidding of his boss. In great cheer, Mudd announces to the large group of people, "Ladies, ladies, welcome to the Riverside's own Jim Kirk cafe! Our databases have the latest on everything Kirk! Please allow me to remind you there is, for today only," he says in a tantalizing tone, "a 25% sale on the Captain feature edition of Raunchy Rebels, brought to you by the successors of Earth's famous entertainment line Hefner Intergalactic! On that note, you know what it's time for..." He allows for a momentary pause, smiling. A door appears in the Kirk mural wall. Mudd throws his arm out, crying, "...the best part of the evening, PICK THAT KIRK!"

The room fills with applause and cheers and whistles. The male models, all blond, blue-eyed and well-toned (by whatever medical enhancement necessary), stream out into the bookstore, strutting for all they are worth. Each one wears a different outfit as once seen on Jim Kirk. One of the males looks spectacularly like Jim in the face, and Harry decides this model will be a top runner of the contest. At least until the swimsuit round. Then the ladies are always very particular in what catches their fancy.

He strokes his mustache and grins. Time to break out the holocams for sale—at a discounted price, of course!

In the dingy side-street of the crowded pleasure-planet Risa a robed arm extends, revealing a feminine hand. The greenish tint of the skin might mean the female is Orion, but no one quite knows. The rest of her figure is hidden in black shroud-like attire. Delicate fingers pick up a small device. The screen wavers and flickers as it comes to life.

"Is this all you have?"

The stall owner, an ex-pirate of one of the meaner species of the galaxy, gives her a toothy smile. "Is all. Good quality. You buy, lady."

"If this is your definition of good, I would hate to see what you call excellent." She places the device back on the stall's tabletop. "I was told you had... more satisfying product."

The stall owner looks around them, head swiveling back and forth, before he leans in to ask quietly, "And what would please the lady?" He flashes another grin, two of his four eyes fixed on the swell of her bosom.

"I like art. Well-sculpted art," she stresses. When he doesn't respond, the woman slaps a handful of credits on the table and snaps, "Well, stop gawking!"

His attention is immediately riveted to the money. But she doesn't remove her hand from it until he grudgingly unearths a box from beneath his table and offers it to her.

"Hm," she murmurs, peering into it. Then she lifts something out. "Oooh, I haven't seen this one. When was it taken?"

"Is new. Lady will buy. Excellent quality."

"He surely is," she says, admiring the picture. "Who knew humans had such pleasant shapes?"

The trader snorts. "Five hundred credits."

She tosses the picture back into the box like it's trash.

"Four-fifty!" calls the stall owner as his customer turns to walk away.

"Three hundred credits."

"You rob me. Four hundred. I have hungry little ones!"

"You have little brains. Your kind doesn't procreate."

"Bah!"

"Three hundred credits," she insists. "I've seen better."

His expression turns crafty. "Ah... but not this, I think." He pulls something from inside his jacket pocket and teases her with a glance of it. "You like art, yes? Here is art for the lady."

The woman visibly stills beneath her robe. "Is that...?"

"Federation captain. Fornicating. Is most excellent, yes?"

"Oh," she says with a soft gasp, reaching for the item.

He pulls it out of her reach. "Five hundred."

The customer is silent for some seconds. "Four hundred."

"Four-fifty for best captain in galaxy."

She is already slipping the money into his hand. Cradling her new purchase, she asks, "Do you have more?"

"Alas, is rare. But lady not wait long. Is said captain come back soon. More art, after."

"Yes," she agrees, sounding satisfied, "I shall certainly look forward to that."

When she is gone, having disappeared quickly into the traffic of the street, the stall owner grins and tucks a duplicate of the prized "art" inside his jacket for the next Kirk enthusiast to come along.

-Fini