Kirk recognized the utterly ethereal look on the man's face and withheld a smirk he would rather have let show. Human women usually inspired such a guise on a man's face, but with the Enterprise's Chief Engineer females of another sort were more often than not the cause. Strolling up beside him, the Captain let an easy smile spread over his features.
"Mr. Scott," he said. "I take it the Admiral's ship meets with your approval?"
"Aye," the man grinned boldly, his eyes shining with delight. "She's a beauty."
The Captain's smile thinned at Scotty's enthusiasm. There was apparently nothing here to take Leonov's attention away from Kirk's ship.
"Captain, I've never seen such a fine antique," Scott continued. "Although I expected a newer model for a Fleet Admiral--top of the line, if you know what I mean."
Kirk shifted his weight from foot to foot, his gaze glancing over the lines of the Admiral's ship next to him. "Antique? What do you mean?"
"This class of cruiser stopped being constructed fifteen years ago," the Engineer explained, gesturing as he moved over to the ship in question. He took a moment to slowly run a hand along the hull.
"This lady has been loved, Captain," he said with a sigh of admiration. "She is in absolute pristine condition. This ship has been maintained so well and kept so clean, if I didn't know better I'd say she hadn't been in service more than a year or two." His voice had a note of wonder in it as he spoke.
The Captain did allow himself to smirk this time. If the Enterprise's Chief Engineer could understand only one thing in the universe, it was the devotion he saw that some unknown person had given to care for this small cruiser. A large part of the shine in the Engineer's eyes Kirk recognized as respect for whoever that person was.
While Scotty could understand the care some unseen person had given this ship, it was the Admiral's obvious indelible bond to her elusive soul that touched something deep within Kirk. Not every ship bound herself to her commander like this and James Kirk could not help but idly wonder what the Admiral and this lady had seen together that caused him to keep her with him after all these years.
That the cruiser's pristine condition gave the Admiral no cause to linger with her—and free Kirk—settled like an oppressive weight on the Captain. Then again, that means there's nothing to delay Leonov's departure, thought Kirk: except that damn kid.
"Thank you, Mr. Scott," he intoned easily before strolling over to the control panel where the Admiral stood.
Turning as the Captain approached, the senior officer gave him a smile of practiced pleasantries. "Captain," he said. "I'm going to stay here until Mr. Scott is finished and then he's going to give me a look at Engineering: if that will fit into your schedule," he added, as though the Captain had any say in the matter.
The relief had to be evident in James Kirk's eyes and he wondered vaguely if the Admiral was telepathic. He flashed the man a handsome smile—a human gesture that signified nothing more than non-hostile intentions. "That will be fine, Sir," is what he said. "Be sure to contact me when necessary."
"Yes, yes: of course," came Leonov's absent reply.
The Captain moved to the edge of the control panel, letting his eyes drift over the indicators there. He wasn't actually looking at them, as there was nothing in the display to interest him. All he needed to know at the moment was if the shuttle bay had a breathable atmosphere and he was, after all, standing erect. Reaching out, he let his fingers tap a gentle pattern over the control panel.
He had to give credit to the Admiral for having a sound knowledge of how a ship ran beyond what the blueprints showed. The man was only using Kirk as a basic tour guide, the Captain acknowledged. At each department, Leonov latched onto the Chief of the department for his in depth tour and information. The man also made sure to connect with the people who made up the department: showing an innate understanding very few senior officers seemed to grasp.
The Admiral's tour was the least of the Captain's worries at the moment. "Your Grandson…I hope he's finding his way about the ship?" Kirk had heard nothing to concern him, but that was what deeply concerned him.
The Admiral looked up and, tilting his head, turned his full attention to the Captain. He flashed an amused smile. "You needn't worry. I told you, Dimitri's parents drag him all over constantly. He had learn how to get along on his own at a very young age."
Kirk let his hand fall off the panel. The complete dismissal he clearly heard in the older man's words left him cold with subtle dread. "He must be lucky to have a stabilizing influence like you in his life," he observed carefully. "Are you able to see him often?"
The man sighed heavily, a growl buried somewhere in the sound. "A few years back Dimitri got it into his head that he wanted to join the Fleet. When he calls, I send someone to get him." The Admiral scowled and shook his head with distaste. "I'm hoping this trip finally gets that damn fool notion out of his head and I can spend my time in more fruitful matters."
Kirk stilled as he studied the man with interest. "I thought every Leonov joined the Fleet, Sir."
"Eh…" the man growled again, scratching the back of his head as if he was ridding himself of some infestation. He turned and strolled into main area of the shuttle bay. "Dimitri's no Leonov: he's my daughter's child."
"Admiral, that would still connect him to the Leonov bloodline," the Captain observed, keeping his tone respectful as he moved to follow the man's steps.
"Dimitri is his father's son," the senior officer man declared with a bold, dramatic voice. "He looks like him, talks like him, acts like him—he even walks like him. The man already has him in that ridiculous navy, or didn't you notice the braid?"
"The Russian Navy?" Kirk asked, stunned at the man's attitude. The question itself made no sense and he was embarrassed as soon as the words escape his mouth. Only one Navy currently existed on Earth, and in fact the sailing ships it was comprised of were merely living history museums. "I have the greatest respect for the vision the Russian Federation showed in preserving the Earth's maritime heritage."
"Vision!" the Admiral exploded with fire in his green eyes. "That 'vision' is an insane and dangerous waste of time and resources. No one will be able to silence the outcry the first time some poor fool dies on one of those 'romantic' deathtraps that were once safely killed with the birth of the twentieth century!"
Kirk took a practiced moment to pause before speaking to the senior officer carefully. "Sailing ships did offer dangerous occupations to those who worked on them," he said. That Leonov's grandson was one of those people in danger, and yet he saw no future for him in Starfleet, as an alternative, was puzzling. The Captain spoke carefully again.
"Given how gifted Dimitri is, it seems he has a promising career ahead of him in the Fleet, despite any current resemblance to his father."
"Oh, he's gifted, yes," snorted the Admiral, and his boots echoed his weight on the deck as he moved. "He is bright, likes to learn, is ahead in his studies and already knows several languages. But those aren't his gifts," the man continued, brushing that idea aside with a hand. "Oh, no. Dimitri can belt out a song that will make you weep, can blind you with the power of a tap dance and can work an audience as though they're nothing more than wet clay.
"Dimitri Ivanovich," he spat out, "Is Russia's version of Shirley Temple."
Well, thought Kirk with irony, I certainly hope they don't curl the poor boy's hair.
"You ever hear of a tap-dancing captain?" Leonov snarled with derision. He stopped by his ship and turned to regard Kirk.
Hazel eyes meeting the man's green ones, the Captain flashed a wry smile. "I know of one that sings opera," he quipped.
The older man remained regarding him without a change in countenance, making his opinion of Kirk's humor more than clear.
"He really is one hell of a performer, Captain," the Admiral went on with a reluctant note of respect in his voice. "We'll eat lunch at the Captain's table tomorrow and I'll arrange for him to perform: you provide the food, I'll provide the entertainment."
Kirk stared at him in thinly veiled horror, wondering how having children on his ship always got him into these ridiculous predicaments. He wondered too how incredibly bad this child's 'talent' really was and how horribly long the 'performance' would be.
The horror obviously showed because the Admiral smiled easily. "Really, Captain: your Shirley Temple was an amateur compared to him."
James Kirk decided instantly that he was going to have to force others to suffer through lunch with him.
"Than I'll look forward to it," the Captain lied in a pleasant tone. "As for Dimitri's future in the Fleet, I wouldn't rule anything out. After all, he is only eight: I know my father's influence helped keep my interest alive."
The Admiral sighed heavily, bringing his hands together before him to twiddle his thumbs. Kirk straightened fiercely, as he knew from Chekov that Russian's used the gesture to indicate a person had lost their mind. Did the man assume he wouldn't know this? Kirk thought bitterly.
Leonov scowled then, shaking his head. It became clear he wasn't referring to his current companion by the gesture. "Dimitri's father is addled, I'm afraid, Kirk. The man rewrites fairy tales."
The Captain stood there stiffly for a long moment as he tried to process such strange, incongruous information. "I'm sorry, Sir. You said…"
"He rewrites fairy tales. You know, 'Hanzel and Gretel', 'Jack and the Beanstalk'."
"I see," Kirk responded, although he certainly did not have any grasp of how that could be an occupation. He held onto the idea that the man was mentally ill. "There are cures, Admiral."
The man laughed sarcastically at him. "Captain, you can't force someone to accept treatment. His father has the family living in one of those peasant villages," he sneered. "It's impossible to get someone out of those cults."
Kirk shifted the weight on his feet. "Dimitri lives in one of the Historic Districts?" he repeated, intrigued. His Chief Navigator had also been raised in one of the nineteenth century areas where they taught traditional Russian culture and values.
"God, yes," the man almost moaned. "I don't know why we wasted our time trying to force them to move into modern areas. They'll all die of starvation eventually anyway."
Trying to still his insides, the Captain stood silently for much longer than he knew was polite. Still, it was better than throttling the Admiral. He was a Fleet Admiral, after all, Kirk reminded himself. The Captain, however, had unending admiration for the Navy and deep respect for what he had learned about Chekov's people in the short time he had known him. His respect for Admiral Leonov was all but disappearing. He may know Fleet business, but he seemed to know very little about people. The Captain realized now that the man's dealings with his crew were simply as cogs in the machinery.
"Even peasant villages have the ability to turn out people with exceptional abilities," he noted.
The Admiral chuckled absently, green eyes distant. "Oh, it's not as though any village or Fleet tour will affect his future, anyway," he commented. "The whole world has known my grandson's future since he was five. Dimitri Ivanovich is Mother Russia's answer to Mozart, Captain."
"I thought Tchaikovsky was Russia's answer to Mozart," Kirk quipped instantly, even though he knew the man was referring to the boy's young age. Shirley Temple and Mozart, he thought cynically. Well I hope the boy doesn't do them both at once.
Green eyes stared at him again. "Dimitri Ivanovich won the European Piano Competition this spring," he stated, deadpan.
"I didn't know they had a junior division."
"They don't."
And that, Kirk thought, must have pissed off a whole lot of adult competitors. So why does my ship have to be the instrument to burn out all of the child's fantasies about his future endeavors? "Than I'm sure he has a bright future," is what he said aloud. "Admiral, I've kept you from your tour long enough. I'm sure Mr. Scott will assist you in whatever way you need."