Another Time The Really Weren't: Chapter Two
"So, after talking with Kirtle awhile, we decide that you, Uhura and I will beam over to his ship and he, Underoosa and Bonnet are coming over here. And—"
"Hang on a minute!" Bones cut in. "How come you and the dress are both 'Jim,' but their McCoy is called 'Leotard' and 'Bonnet'?"
Kirk rolled his eyes, then covered them with his forearm. He let out an exaggerated sigh.
"It was a dream, Bones. Who knows how these things work?" He grinned up at the ceiling he could no longer see. "Besides, he was a leotard, and Jim nicknamed him 'Bonnet' the day they met." He laughed at some joke only he knew the punch line to. "Anyway, so we get a tour of the Marshal Field, and then Sock calls this meeting to try to figure out what's going on and…"
.
.
"Mama?"
The high-pitched voice cut through the strained conversation, and the conference room went silent. Jim looked down the table ("It was interesting that some of their furniture was like ours — like tables and stuff — but they didn't have a single chair until that Scottish pocketbook thingie made a few for us.") and caught his communications chief's startled look. His gaze dropped down, following the line of her long, slender leg to the itty bitty scrap of mint-green cloth wiggling against her left boot.
"Mama?" it said again, this time obviously close to tears. Or to whatever these… things did when they were sad. "Mama!" the scrap shouted more forcefully, and redoubled its efforts at trying to climb up Uhura's leg.
Finally, with a shrug and a helpless look at Kirk, she bent down and lifted the thing into her arms. While she made shushing noises and held it close to her chest ("At that point, I would have paid a lot of credits to take its place!"), he got a good look at it for the first time.
"Is that a onesie?" he asked without thinking. Hell, no one had ever accused him of being a diplomat.
"Onesie® is a trademarked name, sir," Uhura informed him, still stroking the sleeveless, legless little garment. "I think perhaps she's an infant bodysuit, or possibly a creeper?" An enquiring glance at the giant sock was met with a nod of agreement.
"Indeed, Ms. Uhura," he said. "You are very perceptive." Turning to Kirk he went on — just a tad smugly, "My daughter's affinity for the lieutenant supports my theory—"
"Your daughter!" gasped Uhura, startling the creeper who started fussing again. While Uhura was busy calming her down Sock, as he claimed he was called, continued as if he'd never been interrupted.
"—that our universes must parallel each other in some way. My daughter was immediately drawn to Ms. Uhura." His eyes found the woman he had just spoken of. "It is possible that on your Enterprise, your own daughter might have done the same with my wife."
Uhura was still cooing to the creeper, bouncing the thing up and down, so she only said "Spock and I don't have any kids yet" before she started making funny faces that set the baby bodysuit giggling uncontrollably.
.
.
"I still didn't want to believe it, but the kid made it pretty obvious that he was probably on the right track, you know? And plus, there was the other Jim and Bonnet and everything. But the clincher came after Sock and Uhura started making eyes at each other."
McCoy dropped his head in his hands and huffed out a groan.
"Do I even want to hear the rest of this?"
"Hell yeah, you do!" Jim assured him. "I'm just getting to the good part."
.
.
Nyota, Sock said in Uhura's mind, in spite of the mounting evidence, your captain continues to resist the most logical explanation. Perhaps if you were to corroborate my theory, he might be persuaded to see reason.
I'll see what I can do, k'diwa. I mean sir! she replied, and transferred the creeper to one hip.
"Captain," she said.
.
.
"Wait just a damned minute! How the hell do you know what they were thinking at each other?"
"Bones. Dream? Remember?"
"Fine. Whatever. Carry on."
.
.
"Captain," she said. "I have reason to believe that Sock's hypothesis is correct."
Jim looked at her suspiciously. "What reason is that, Lieutenant?" He thought he might know the answer; she looked way too comfortable holding the baby clothes, and the heated glances she was exchanging with the sock were almost as bad as the ones she and Spock shared when they thought no one could see them. But he needed verbal confirmation.
"The bond, sir. My marriage bond with Spock seems to, umm, work with Sock, as well."
Defeated, Kirk sank back into his hastily-constructed chair. He thought again of the way Uhura and the sock had been eying each other and shuddered.
"Damn."
The conference room door whooshed open again and two baby booties, both dressed in mini replicas of Sock's uniform hopped in. They darted right over to the communications officer only to stop in their tracks half a meter away.
Left to his own devices, Jim might never have imagined that articles of clothing could have such expressive, uh, faces. Especially not articles of clothing that were supposed to be one quarter Vulcan, or Ash'ai, or whatever. The two diminutive foot-coverings stared at Uhura in horror before turning to the big sock and wailing in unison, "What have they done to Mama?"
Of course, that just made the creeper cry all over again.
A/N: It just keeps getting worse and worse - or, if you're Sock and Uhura, better and better.
Disclaimer: Still don't own Star Trek; still haven't bought any new Underoos.