Chapter 43 - News Travels Fast

Graham met Kirk in the transporter room. She'd changed out of her dress uniform, but looked nearly as crisp in her standard yellows. She took him to the engine room, as promised, gave him the full brochure reading of the warp core containment. Kirk felt like they both knew it was for show.

She said she had more booze in her quarters. Kirk was as thirsty as he'd ever been.

"So, Salicia," Kirk said. She had poured him a drink within seconds of arriving.

"My friends call me Sal."

"So, Salicia . . ." He smiled over the raised glass.

"I outrank you, remember."

"Sir, I have a question," Kirk said. He took a large swig of the drink. It wasn't the good stuff and it burned. He resisted coughing, cleared his throat three times to avoid it.

She shook her head.

Kirk said, "How's your interaction with Fleet HQ been?"

She put her drink down and sat on the edge of her desk. Her long legs made this look comfortable. "We've been in Mendez's sector out of Starbase 7. So, out of the difficulties. It was he who ordered us here after a communication from Lexington. There weren't enough ships assigned in these sectors."

"There's not supposed to be a need."

"Probably why the enemy choose it. I have a question for you." She was sitting with her hands folded over the desk edge beside her, looking artificially relaxed. "I just have to ask this. You really keeping a captured Vulcan in your quarters?"

"Yes." Kirk hadn't intended to drink more of the moonshine, but he took a swallow to cover his expression.

"Please don't tell me that's why you're not available for something recreational."

"I won't if you don't ask."

Her eyebrows crinkled up oddly.

Kirk said, "Ever see a jealous Vulcan? You don't want to."

"Yeah, I've heard that." She was re-evaluating him.

"I'm unfairly portraying him. He's pretty harmless. Kind, actually. If you get to know him."

She blinked and shook her head. "Really, Kirk, this isn't the fourteen hundreds. You can't just keep a random mistress captured from the enemy in your quarters."

Kirk made himself sound offended. "He's not. He's a friend of mine. I knew him from before we captured the ship he was on. Please."

"The captured ship of the enemy. This doesn't clarify things."

"Why do you need them clarified?"

She stood up, crossed her arms. "I just do. I remember you on the Potemkin. No official record of you coming or going. You were this obnoxious little demoted lieutenant suffering shell shock. You were on our ship but officially MIA. And now the stories I hear about you. It's really something. It doesn't add up."

"I can't answer all of that. But let me explain how it is on my ship." Kirk gestured as if he were lecturing. "I go to my quarters and I always have a friend there. He's available for a game or just some personal interaction. He understands the stresses of running the ship, more or less. Browbeats me to take care of myself. Makes sure I get a good night's sleep on occasion. He knows me really well and is outside the command line and not off limits for recreational activities. It's rather nice."

She scowled. "Well, damn it. Now I'm envious as hell." She hesitated. "But that can't continue, can it?"

"I know. I've never deeply regretted the wind-down of a military action before."

"I'm trying to be sympathetic, but those of use who've been living like monks all along have a hard time seeing your loss for what it is." She sat back on the edge of the desk, picked up her drink, took a swallow with no ill effect. "You went over to the Lexington. How was your old boyfriend?"

"Oh, shit," Kirk said, remembering what Mitchell had said before the first battle, which was in the log, which was being passed around. He avoided swearing again. He managed to snort. "Gary is the same asshole I remember, but didn't understand the depths of. And for the record, not an ex. I will admit to a lot of exs, many of whom aren't, really. He was just a good friend, or I thought he was. He used to steal my girlfriends. Even if he didn't like them. Went out of his way to do so. If we are putting facts into the record, I'd like to put that one in."

"So, you have had girlfriends? In the past?"

"You don't know me at all."

She finished her drink. Exhaled the vapors. "I know you better than I did. Read your entire record waiting for your call. Screw you if you don't actually have enough medals and commendations to ruin a uniform."

"I sense hostility."

"Do you? I do that. I need to stop."

"Are you uncomfortable with me? Is that why you're doing it?"

She looked him up and down. "Yeah." She tried to drink more, found the glass empty and put it down loudly. "You even know what makes people tick. Damn I hate you."

Kirk put the glass farther from the edge of the desk and stepped close and hugged her.

"Really?" She said. But she gave in and relaxed marginally.

Kirk held her for a good half minute. She seemed tall and broad, but had a much smaller frame than him once he had his arms around her. He couldn't imagine being alone in a command. Although he was probably going know soon enough.

She said, "At least you're staying long enough my crew will think we did do something against regs."

Kirk pulled back, smiled.

She added, "And you could use some cover."

He still held her loosely. "I don't know if that's cover or just demonstrates how easy I can be."

"You don't seem easy to me."

Kirk stepped back. "I used to be. I think I've pinned myself down this time."

"Aw, let me be the first to offer congratulations."

He tried to sound cute. "Thank you. I accept."


It was well after sunset. The feeds were updating in silence on the large monitor on the wall of the study.

Amanda was using the natural light from the stored photon panel by the darkened window to work on beading a traditional Vulcan sash. When she and Sarek first married she spent long shuttle flights doing similar work. In a fit of adaptation to Vulcan, she had sewn the clan symbols onto a sash that a tailor had subsequently sewn onto a set of formal robes. Amanda had been appalled by his wearing this to dignified functions, but the distinctive earth technique had made them noteworthy, and Sarek had worn those robes out, which was unusual. She had only done small projects after that.

This sash was farther along than it should be, indicating she'd been working on it when he wasn't present.

Sarek watched her spear a bead from a tray designed to make this easy to accomplish. He glanced up at the feeds when they shifted. Amanda had the items filtered for good news only, which was also unusual.

Opal Colony reacts with relief to freeing of Rebel prisoners captured nearly half a year ago caught Sarek's attention. He switched off the filters and a barrage of rapidly changing titles scrolled by.

USS Potemkin and USS Lexington reported to have negated last bot production facilities of Rebels.

Battle at the top of the galaxy!

Little USS Ranger battles captured USS Sanchez.

Sarek selected that one and told it to auto play the rest of the feed.

A woman came on the screen. "Starfleet has released confirmation that the USS Ranger was indeed the ship that took on the much larger Starfleet vessel USS Sanchez, long in Rebel hands."

Amanda looked up. Moving slowly, she put the sash down, forgetting to hook the needle. A tiny stone bead pinged to the floor.

A man came on the screen standing before an official looking building. "If that's true, Idra, then that was likely the largest of the remaining Rebel bases, was it not?"

"Yes, Boyd, it likely was. According to experts I spoke with, the Sanchez was likely being held in reserve for after the war ended, which is why it never saw action. Three smaller Colonist Rebel ships were destroyed or captured in the battle, along with a retired cargo ship, which had been outfitted with previously unknown warp engine technology."

"There are other Colonist Rebel ships still on the loose, aren't there, Idra?"

"Yes. But without a base, they will not be able to easily restock with food supplies, or weapons, or the best news of all, additional bots. Far flung colonies need to be on alert for raids, if those ships choose them as an unofficial supply depot."

"You received an unofficial copy of the log from the Ranger recorded during the battle with the Sanchez. Can you tell us about that?"

"Yes, Starfleet has officially released only this video snippet from the bridge of the Ranger, taken from an open communication channel with the Lexington, in the middle of the battle."

The screen changed, showing the darkened bridge with James Kirk in front of the center seat, trying to stand straight, but clearly in pain, uniform blood spattered. On the right side stood a familiar figure in a red shirt.

"That's Spock," Amanda blurted. "In uniform."

"The shirt lacks the Starfleet patch. It does not qualify."

"James is badly hurt."

There was no audio, just the newswoman talking. Kirk turned his head to say something to Spock, who stepped away to a station on the left of the screen.

"Spock isn't injured, at least," Amanda said.

Kirk took the center seat rather than have his legs fail him. He turned to give an order to someone on the right of the screen.

Amanda said, "Is it unusual to have a civilian working on the bridge of a Federation starship?"

"Exceptionally so."

When the clip from the bridge ended, Sarek pressed the control to play it again.

The newswoman was saying: "This channel recording was taken after not only the ship battle but after a daring rescue of prisoners from the bot manufacturing cargo ship. Experts tell me that such an attempt by what would have been at most half the crew of the Ranger, less than thirty personnel, was categorically foolhardy."

"But it worked," the newsman said.

Amanda smiled.

"You find that amusing, my wife?"

"It sounds human."

"The human responsible for the safety of our son."

The newsman said, "They did rescue quite a few starfleet personnel, all of whom could be armed to further assist in the rescue of the others. I'm sure that helped."

"Does this mean the war is over?" Amanda asked.

She held out two fingers, turned upward. Sarek placed his own across them. They had been at odds too long.

"I estimate that the probability of that is improving."