Chapter 22 - Interesting Cover

Base Yankee Yellow was a stripped down hulk orbiting Polanus IX. There was barely any insulation on the inside of the hull. Instead the power plant pumped out heat full blast creating rivers of hot and cold air in the open areas.

Kirk's field boot's caused the decking to shift and clang despite their softer soles. At the transfer base, he'd been issued field wear, jacket, pants with padding on the knees and shins. Gone was the command gold. Everything was variations on mixed rocky gray xeno-biologic desert sparse high-anthocyanin flora camouflage, or GAD CAMO, for short.

The corridor opened up and led onto a bridge overlooking the repair bays. Armored scuttles were packed close together in various stages of disassembly, parts were stacked onto the roofs on top of flat panels. Kirk studied the vehicle damage areas, looking for commonalities and patterns. Crew clanged by behind him on the suspended metal grates.

"Commander Kirk?"

Kirk turned around to find a round faced man with shoulder length shiny hair. One of his techs. "Crewmember Bark, correct?"

A blank stare of surprise. "Yes, sir." Bark stepped closer, lifted his chin. Kirk sensed he was comparing their heights, which were almost the same.

Kirk tossed his head. "Any of those scuttles ours?"

Bark smiled. "One of them is. Golf Hotel Niner in the corner. We're not scheduled to get her back until after this mission."

The next mission was four days patrol over a quiet planet. Kirk didn't chaff at what was clearly a starter mission. Anything could go wrong, anywhere. Instead of being annoyed, he felt overly grateful.

"All mission crew accounted for?"

Bark put his hands behind is back, raised his chin again and stretched taller. "Last I heard. I don't usually keep up with everyone's status."

Kirk stepped along the gangway, leaned over the railing one more time to look around at damage points.

"You don't? So you don't know if the height listed for me in my file is wrong, crewmember?"

Bark flushed. Kirk raised a brow, stepped away.

Bark caught up to Kirk and matched stride. "It's a very tall pair of teams, sir." Then he fell silent, shoulders forward.

He followed as Kirk took a self-tour of the station. They stopped in an area that smelled homey, of food and sweat. The door plates had metal cast alphanumeric codes and scrawled labels in white pen beneath those. "Crew's Nest."

"Officer's quarters are farther down," Bark said after a long pause.

"Team's not together on base?"

"No, sir."

"Interesting." Kirk looked each way, watched station staff moseying, an intentional lack of hurrying. "I need to find Lt. Uirik, have her get everyone together."

"Good idea, sir."

Kirk continued down the corridor to the somewhat nicer officer's area. But nicer was relative. On any other station it wouldn't have served as storage.

The room shifted as Kirk entered. Half looked up but no one wanted to obviously react.

Uirik hadn't added a video introduction to her file, but Kirk had her photo. He didn't see her red hair here. He stepped up to a Lieutenant who was watching two others play a virtual game of 3D chess with a battered projector.

"Lieutenant, have you seen Lt. Uirik?"

"You must be new, sir."

"Yes. Minutes old."

Kirk grew aware of the condition of his field coat and padded pants. They were pristine, the only thing in the room that was.

"Do I need to win a chess match to get a question answered?" Kirk said.

"Think you could? Commander?" This was someone sitting at the game who spoke, a blue skinned humanoid with a large fin bone on the top of the head. The officer's jacket was hanging inside out over the back of the chair. The stained shirt over selectively scaly skin had torn off sleeves with no rank.

Kirk guessed based on attitude. "I think I could beat all of you at chess, Lieutenant. Yes."

"Tough talk needs to be backed up around here." This was the third person at the table, a woman whose back was to Kirk. She had greased down wavy yellow hair, square ears and rows of knobs on her brows. Kirk didn't recognize her race, but he did recognize her from one of his videos.

"Ensign Heuyunt. I think you go by Huey, correct?"

She turned with a worried look. "Yes, sir. Commander Kirk, I take it?"

"Correct."

This was one of Kirk's two medics. Neither were fully qualified physicians which was why their rank wasn't at least Lieutenant. But they weren't crew, either.

Huey stood up. She had a full fifteen centimeters on him. Kirk imagined Bark saying 'told you so.'

"Uirik will be back in five or less, sir. She had to run an errand."

"You can go back to your game until she gets here."

Kirk took his duffle to the lockers and bio-keyed himself into one of the unused ones. He had to try three to find one that worked. He stuffed his duffle in, considered messaging Spock while he waited, decided to stay focussed and aware of his surroundings instead.

Uirick stepped in carrying personal armor gear over her arm.

"Commander's here," Huey said to her.

Uirick's red pupils sought out Kirk. He got an impression of disappointment.

"Get everyone together. Is there a place to meet?" Kirk said.

"You're looking at it."

"How about the gangway over the mechanical bay instead. It's scenic, at least."

"Yes, sir."

"Will it take you more than fifteen to find everyone?"

"No, sir."

"We'll meet in twenty minutes then."

Seventeen figures stood on the gangway, some at parade rest, some leaning trustingly on the pipe railing.

Kirk approached, stopped before them. "I'm Lt. Commander James Kirk. We're missing two . . .?"

Uirik partly straightened herself. In this light her skin appeared light maroon. "In the dispensary, sir. To be released by mission time."

"Injuries related to a mission?"

"If your mission is drinking, yes."

Kirk avoided sighing aloud. "I see. I also see we have a mission scheduled for twenty hours from now . . ." A blonde-haired, blue-eyed ensign had his hand raised.

"Ensign Upton? Something?"

"You haven't officially taken command, sir."

"I haven't." Kirk had only seen this done once, with a new captain. Maybe it was superstition here. "You want to hear the magic words?"

"Well, not technically magic, sir." Upton flushed slightly, but not as much as one should have in his position.

"Are you a stickler for the rules, Upton? Why is that not in your file?"

Someone snickered.

Upton glanced at someone else, stood straighter. "You haven't officially read the assumption of command."

"All right if I wing it?"

Someone elbowed Upton. "Yes, sir."

"Per Starfleet orders I am officially taking command of light strike team five oscar uniform and light strike team five oscar bravo. Close enough?"

Upton looked down. "Yes, sir."

Kirk rubbed his chin. "Nickname?"

"Uptight," someone muttered behind their hand with a cough.

"I don't have a problem with rules," Kirk said. "Not when they work. But where was I? We're going to do shakedown. And I fully realize I'm the one in need of shaking down. We're going to patrol U32498-2 for four and a half days, and I expect everyone to take it seriously. I want everyone in top form as if we're in hostile territory."

"Sir, U3 has never been inhabited." This was Kirk's second, Uirik.

"Even an uninhabited world can surprise you. And, perhaps more importantly, I want to see what you can do. I trust you want to impress me."

There was some vague shifting and grumbling.

Kirk hauled out a firmer tone. "I expect everyone here to take advantage of a chance to get better, even if it's just coordination. That's what this is." He waited. No one moved. "You are already divided into two teams. But those can be changed." He waited again. "Any trouble with assignments that needs to be dealt with?"

No one moved. Kirk filled his chest, held it. "If anyone is unhappy and doesn't say so. They are officially happy." He waited. "Okay. Very good. That's a lot of happy."


Spock exited his dorm room for morning class and someone stepped up to him, blocking his path before he could cross the corridor. Spock jerked to a stop rather than run head on into a broad chested senior cadet with nearly square eyebrows and a broad forehead to present them on.

"Plebe. Give me fifty."

Spock stepped back a half step, considered looking both ways to see if he recognized anyone, but expected that to be provoking. Students were hurrying to class and the corridor was busy.

"Right here. Now. You don't hear so well? Surprising ain't it?"

Spock bent to place his padd on the floor, then arranged himself beside it and rapidly did fifty push ups while others slowed to file around him or to watch.

Spock stood, left his padd where it was for now. "Sufficient, Senior Cadet?"

The cadet's mouth twisted. "Sure. That was too easy though."

"I cannot offer a valid comparative opinion regarding that, sir."

The cadet's small brows pulled together. He shook his head and stalked away.

Spock picked up his padd and a familiar pair of nearly un-regulation boots came into view.

"Hey." It was P'Losiwst. "Everything okay?"

"We need to hurry. Even though it is a special section on Federation History and not as strict as some about latecomers."

They made it just in time, but had to sit in the second row to have seats together. P'Losiwst tapped on her padd, pushed it to Spock. It read, "That was only the beginning?"

Spock pushed it back without replying.

Spock was waylaid for chin ups and sit ups before the end of the day. Each time by a different senior. P'Losiwst suggested they exit their last class by the opposite side door which led to a narrow inner corridor that didn't have any windows.

They stopped beside a spare projector stored beside the double doors leading to the main corridor.

"I can bring dinner to your room," P'Losiwst said. "Or are you enjoying the exercise?"

Spock hesitated replying. Kirk had insisted he was earning something. But his pride was requiring repeated applications of discipline.

P'Losiwst studied him."They do seem to choose the busiest public spots to come after you." She adjusted her bag straps on her shoulder. "If it helps, most of the first years are on your side." Her antenna straightened upright and she said in a borrowed voice, "We're in this together against those henchmen."

Spock felt the coin in his pocket. It had been blank initially, but as of yesterday displayed a universal time code and a transmitter id on its small screen. He was suffering the present in hope of the future, a state that was too reminiscent of the past.

"You okay?"

Spock nodded.

"I'll bring you dinner. You don't have a cute boyfriend to bring you food offerings anymore. That must be even rougher than the seniors." She tsked sadly, turned to the doors. "Come on. Untouchable faces time." She reached for the door trigger, gave him a sideways glance. "Eight out of ten. We might have to work on that face."


Shutan closed Heart of Darkness, tapped the cover of it as if to convince it to stay closed. He concluded his impromptu lecture with, "That is the inner story of this book. A journey into the seething inner soul. Do you see it now?"

"Now that you have described the metaphoric associations to me, yes."

Shutan waited for nearly a minute. "And do you find the illumination of this metaphorical journey into that part of the spirit that morally driven intelligent beings prefer to deny exists, do you find that mode of communication to be pleasing? It is a subtle way of delivering an unsavory point beneath the potential resistance of the ego. Do you find this to be clever, artistic or otherwise? Do you find the message itself thought provoking?"

Spock, who had experienced a Romulan's soul being torn slowly from him and consumed by another Vulcan, found he wasn't particularly impressed with this long dead human's imaginary view on things, historical or not, artistic or otherwise. He shrugged.

Shutan stared. It was the first long stare Spock had received today. The old Vulcan sat back, index fingers touching. "Your father contacted me. To verify that you were being a proper student."

Spock nodded. He didn't know what kind of response was expected.

"Why would he ask this of me?" Shutan said. "It isn't a logical question."

"I have a poor history with tutors."

Shutan's white left brow shot up. "Do you? That is the first promising thing this visit. Last visit it was you showing up in that earth military uniform."

Spock glanced down at his cadet grays. "Now it is I who do not understand."

Shutan's face lost the little animation it had gained, became stony. "I accepted you as a student purely as a test of the power of literature. The power of it to enlighten and broaden those who lack the experiences contained within it. The power to illuminate the layers of art in the world itself around us, be it Vulcan or earth or some remote moon careening out of the galaxy. But I have been reconsidering this experiment during our discussions. I have been forced to significantly reduce the likelihood that you can be connected to these other layers within. The trained Vulcan mind simply does not allow for it."

"We have analyzed a single book, Honored Teacher."

"We already discussed those you read for your class. And you parroted to me what you were taught regarding them. You have only a narrow view of them adopted directly from others."

Spock held his knitted fingers yet more relaxed. "I respectfully request more time to understand."

"Your father's expectations must be adjusted. As do mine. I had too much faith in the power of these." He waved vaguely at the shelves around them on three sides. He huffed, stood unsteadily on his spindly legs. "We will try one more time. Perhaps an easier read." He brought back a tome that smelled of an earth cave, perhaps one containing an ancient crypt. "Dickens."

Spock tipped the cover into the light to read the worn leather indentations. Great Expectations. "My mother has read this."

Shutan sat heavily back in his chair. "Did you read it?"

"No."

"Do not read any other analysis, if you would. I want you to return here with only your own impressions."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir," Shutan echoed flatly.

"I beg forgiveness if it is inappropriate. It is the mode of respect I use at the Academy."

Spock turned the book in his hands, pushed on the leather at the spine and heard it crinkle like the dead skin it was. He parted the covers. The paper was akin to cloth, thick and feathered at the edges of the pages which sent paper fibers into the air as he thumbed. His estimation of success was less than half a percent. And then he would have to explain to his father that he had failed. He closed the book and held it, waited.

Shutan was staring at the books stacked on the table. They had been there when Spock arrived and had gone unmentioned. Shutan huffed through his nose again, a gesture Spock now understood as halfway between a sigh and a snort.

"I am disappointing you," Spock said.

Shutan knitted his fingers and, from his vulture pose, looked at Spock. Spock expected him to do so for many minutes before speaking again. But he spoke right away. "You are the output of a sterile field. You have been isolated intentionally by your world and your family. That is your father's fault, something I will point out to him when we fall short next session, as I expect we will."

Spock nodded formally. It was a relief to have someone arguing on his behalf, if nothing else.

"I do not know if even the earth's greatest literature can save this situation," Shutan said.

Spock indicated the books on the table. "Is that what these are?"

"No. Those books would result in too one-sided of a discussion. I would be reduced entirely to questions without answers. These tomes are approximations of literature that are more accessible. But still a bridge too far for you, as well as a minefield to discuss openly with a sheltered Vulcan child." He lifted one. "Class violence and brutal civil war." He lifted another. "Post apocalyptic comi-tragedy with a wonderfully constructed high culture of cannibalism." He waved another, hesitated speaking. "The hardest. Probably impossible. Human sexuality." He dropped the last one back on the table by itself.

"If I may, Honored Tutor, I do not understand the difficulty."

"One cannot discuss maddening obsession, human love, burning passion, and the animal sexual urge with the immature grandson of T'Pau."

Spock stared. "You assume I do not understand these things already."

Shutan stared. "Yes, I do assume."

Spock wondered how to explain while remaining deferential.

"You are how old?" Shutan sounded short on patience.

"I am a three weeks from sixteen."

"Yes. About what I expected." He sounded derisive now.

Spock subtly pushed his shoulders back. "I would estimate, Honored Tutor, that I am far more familiar with human sexuality than you."

Shutan's brows came down over his watery eyes.

"But I do not know your background to accurately compare," Spock said.

"We shall compare resumes then," Shutan said. "Half of these books contain sexuality at some level, some contain only that. I have read all of them. Analyzed all of them, unblinkingly."

Spock studied Shutan, the fractal patterns in the wrinkles of his face. "I have had a human lover for half a year."

Shutan's brows rose slowly up. "Your father is aware of this?"

"Yes."

"What about your properly selected betrothed from your extended family?"

Spock schooled himself, likely gave away a lot doing so. "I had two. Both bondings failed."

Shutan considered Spock's uniform again as if reading text off the surface of it. "I did not realize your situation."

This blunt reevaluation irked Spock. He put the emotion aside before it could be revealed.

Shutan stared again. "I wish to meet this human."

"He is seven hundred and thirty light years away."

"He. A human male lover. That is not common with our people. This era, that is. Now that raiding tribes no longer steal all the females." He considered Spock a while. "It is impossible that your father allows this to continue."

"He did not approve for some time. He altered his thinking after growing more familiar with James. But you may, of course, verify all of this with my father."

The long stare continued. "You have a picture of this human?"

"I did not bring any devices with me, Honored Teacher."

Shutan stood, brought back a padd older than Spock. Spock searched the public feeds, found Kirk's image from his talk at the Academy, full length, face intent and pleased with communicating his ideas, with being charming. In the auditorium lights his dress uniform glittered at the weave and glowed against the backdrop. The animated image made Spock acutely pained with homesickness that he feared could not be slaked later by any meditation he knew. He handed the device over.

"That reaction of yours was unmistakable." Shutan held the device up vertical for a time. "A soldier. Fascinating. Where is he?"

"He is assigned to the Lohanna Sector, where there is still fighting related to the Colony War."

"He is why you are also now in this military."

Again Spock suppressed his acute annoyance. For all of Shutan's impatience with Spock's inability to see nuance, his teacher himself failed to look for it. "I formed a wish to join Starfleet when I was four years old."

"I see." He looked at the picture again. "A soldier. And away at war." He looked slowly over at Spock. "You worry about him?"

Spock nodded primly, put all of his emotion aside and out of reach.

"This human ranks significantly above you, based on the decorations on his uniform."

Shutan thought longer, stood up. Came back with a book which he pulled from an evacuated archival bag. "This will be interesting to hear you discuss."

The book was flimsy, cheap. Lolita.

"You can read two by next visit."

Spock nodded.

Shutan sat again. "I agree to tutor you for a month more, based solely on this surprise. You are not as flat and emptied as you first appeared."

"I was commanded to be deferential and promised my father I would be."

"I may release you from that at some point. You are a closed book." He glanced at Spock's uniform again. "In an interesting cover." He sat back with narrowed eyes, fingers steepled high in front of him. "We are finished for today."