While they waited for word from Enterprise that Mojave central transport was ready to receive them, Pike reconsidered his spur of the moment choice to beam there rather than his ship. He never visited his hometown in uniform, there he was Chris, a local kid, not Captain Pike, a decorated soldier and explorer. It was a balm for the responsibilities of command. Pike glanced over at the teenagers, the sadness in Zach's eyes lingered and David's insolent stance was slowly deflating as the potential consequences of their stunt neared. On the other hand, a stop on Enterprise, even briefly to change, will only widen the gulf between us, he thought. They need an uncle for a few hours, not a commanding officer. Yes, that works. I'll find out more about what precipitated their behavior, deliver a stern lecture, then turn them over to Number One who can oversee any necessary discipline. Pleased with his strategy, Pike wiggled out of his uniform jacket and, in an attempt to look more casual, hooked it over his shoulder. OK, that's worse than wearing it, next you will be swaggering. He tossed the jacket on the sofa.
"Anything personal you want to get before we leave?" he asked.
Zach shook his head, misery evident even in this small gesture. Turning away, David ignored the question.
Pike's communicator beeped. "Very well. Enterprise, commence beaming."
As they exited the transportation hub, heat rolled against them like the waves of an ocean. Chris looked skyward and closed his eyes. A faint smile crossed his lips as he reveled in the warmth of the sun on his face. There was simply no way to replicate that feeling on a starship, no matter how precisely the lights mimicked the infrared spectrum of Sol.
David shieled his eyes and coughed. "It's as hot as hell here. Who in their right mind lives in this dustbowl?"
Chris ignored the bait. "Hungry?"
The corners of Zach's mouth twitched, and he shot Pike a look which clearly stated 'we're teenagers, when are we not ravenous?'
That prompted a chuckle and Chris replied, "Yeah, I remember. Burgers?" Even David's indifference slipped, cracked by a hint of enthusiasm. After a twenty-minute walk to the edge of town, Chris ushered them into a tiny restaurant, one of those local eateries housed in a ramshackle dilapidated building that you would only frequent with a local's recommendation – and perhaps a health inspector. It was crowded, and he picked a quiet table near the back.
Within seconds an elderly man was passing out menus. "Heard Enterprise was home. Where is she?"
Just like on a ship, there are no secrets in a small town. After five years away from Earth, Chris Pike had returned with a wife. In Mojave, population 2873 now 2874, because even if the couple didn't settle here she was still counted as one of their own, speculation was at a fevered pitch. "Hello to you too Mac. She's still on duty."
The restaurant's proprietor scratched his head. "Hmmm. Would've thought you could fix that. Otherwise what is the point of being in charge?"
"This comes from a higher authority than me," Chris replied, his eyes dancing with amusement.
"Didn't realize there was one," Mac muttered to himself before pitching his voice over the din of the other diners, "You'll come by when she joins you? I'll make something special. On a Monday when we're closed so we'll have the place to ourselves."
"Yes."
"Alright, the usual?" Chris nodded. Mac turned to the boys. "Burgers are good. So are the house fries. I add my own special twist."
"Which means spicy," Chris warned his guests.
"Yep, a bit. Grow the peppers myself from seeds saved by my great-grandmother. Use her special cultivation technique as well. I serve regular fries too for the northerners." Mac added.
Half-way through their double burgers and second orders of fries, Zach and David slowed enough for conversation. Seems petty crime is hungry work, Chris thought with a smile.
"Are you eating anything but vegetables?" Zach asked mystified that vegetables could be considered a real meal.
Chris sensed Zach was relaxing and let him steer the conversation. David remained silent but was always observing and listening. "Mac makes the best vegetable enchilada west of New Mexico and south of San Francisco. Would you like to try it?" Chris moved his plate to the center of the table. After a tentative bite, Zach encouraged his brother to taste it as well and soon, between them, the plate was empty.
"Does Aalin still eat cupcakes for breakfast?" Zach asked next.
"If she thinks I'm not watching," Chris replied with a grin.
"When the whole family gets together for summer holidays, which is like a loud horde descending on a peaceful coastal village, we sneak cupcakes to the beach and have breakfast together." Zach's face fell slightly. "At least we used to."
Chris started to say that their aunt talked about them often but hesitated. No that sounds patronizing.
Zach continued, his sad expression back in full force. "She was going to teach me to play the steel drums before she got called away for the ambassador's trip to the refugee camp and ..."
"And hasn't been home since." Chris finished. Assuring them their unhappiness was valid felt patronizing too. As an only child, I never expected to be an uncle. Walking the fine line between approachable and caring guardian is harder and more complicated than I imagined. How do I build a friendship and still set and enforce behavior boundaries? And make sure they know they can count on me even when they've blown a hole the size of a photon torpedo through those boundaries? This is not quite the same as guiding a junior officer. The conversation lagged and Chris filled the silence. "Steel drums? I didn't know she played them."
Zach brightened. "Oh yes, she's really good. Good enough that she sat out the fall semester of her sophomore year in college to tour the Caribbean playing with a local band."
I will not mine my nephews for information I can tease Aalin about, Chris firmly told himself.
Zach continued, "Dad said Grandmother and Grandfather were livid. And he said it was a good lesson illustrating poor judgement and the need to resist impulsive actions that negatively impact your long-term prospects. Just like …" Zach stopped abruptly and put his hand over his mouth. "Sorry."
"It's OK. You can be honest with me," Chris gently prodded.
Zach looked sheepish. "Just like her joining Starfleet on a whim. That's what my dad said, not me. I think it's really cool." He quickly changed the subject. "So Aalin's on the ship?"
"No, she's taking final exams at Starfleet academy," Chris answered.
Zach expression turned puzzled. "I don't understand. Why tests? She already graduated from uni."
"Yes, in her field. I am empowered to grant temporary commissions. To keep hers, she has to pass an academic curriculum of core subjects like astrophysics, communications, temporal mechanics, and interspecies ethics as well as other types of training."
"So she went back to school in order to stay on Enterprise?" Zach's expression was horrified.
Chris signaled for Mac to bring coffee. "Yeah. And also had to take and pass basic training, survival training, weapons training, an emergency medic course, and intermediate marital arts. Those she did on the ship."
"She must really like you a lot to do all of that," Zach, who despised school, mused.
"Ah …" Chris started.
David sneered. "This is the point where he says she decided to join Starfleet before they got together. That she didn't stay on Enterprise for him."
He misses nothing, Chris noted. "Yes and no. No, we weren't involved when she accepted the post on Enterprise. Yes, her reasons for staying were more than professional. But those reasons were as much professional as personal. And if I thought she was unhappy in Starfleet, I would resign."
"OK." David let down his guard a little. "Will you always tell us the truth?"
"No." Chris said simply. David was about to verbalize the 'I told you so' look mirrored on his face. Before he did, Chris added, "I can't make that promise. Due to my position, at times, I have information that should not be widely shared. I can promise that I will tell you the truth unless it puts your safety, or the safety of others, at risk."
"And who judges when and if the truth can be told?" David asked.
"I do." Chris answered.
David held Chris' gaze for several minutes. "I can live with that."
The casual conversation continued over dessert. Each time Chris tried to steer it to them or the earlier car stealing incident and their reasons for that, both boys clamed up. After a couple of hours, Chris' patience was wearing thin. Time to try a different approach. "I have an important errand. And I could use advice. Will you help me?
After exchanging glances, speaking in a silent language only brothers shared, both agreed.