The following is a work of erotic fiction and includes scenes of sexual activity. It includes characters that are copyrighted by Paramount Pictures. This story is intended for the non-commercial enjoyment of fans and should be considered a parody. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from the distribution of this story.
Written for the Femme Fuh-Q Fest
*****
James Kirk was dead.
No matter how many times the fifty-four year old Commander had repeated that simple phrase in her mind, she still found it almost impossible to accept. How often over the last three decades had she'd heard them uttered, only to have them disproved as the Captain managed to change the odds once again. If the latest proclamation had come from anyone other than Pavel, she would still be waiting for Jim Kirk to show up and prove everyone wrong.
But this time there would be no miracle escape. This time, the former Communications Officer of the USS Enterprise would have to accept the hours old communication as fact. Only legends lived forever, not the men who made them.
Club 606 had been a Starfleet bar for as long as there had been a Starfleet. The walls were covered with mission patches and other paraphernalia dating back over a hundred years. One wall held photographs of the men and women who had pushed the envelope in those early days of warp flight and made Starfleet what it was today. The names of Jonathan Archer, A.G. Robinson, Erika Hernandez and "Trip" Tucker were but a few of the honored. Another wall held a collection of ship's insignia from the days when each starship crew wore a different design. It was a source of pride to the veteran officer that the delta arrow worn by the crew of Enterprise was later adopted as the standard for the entire Fleet.
Tonight, as on most nights, the club was filled with officers and crewmen from Starfleet Command as well as those ships in orbit around Earth. Few of them failed to recognize the veteran Commander, who had returned to the teaching post at the Academy she had occupied at various points in her career. A prize post she had willingly, even eagerly, abandoned when James Kirk had called and asked her to rejoin his command crew. For all the awards that a grateful Federation had bestowed, none meant more to her than the simple right to say, "yes, I was there." That she'd served on both of Kirk's five-year missions as well as the epic adventures beyond.
But those days were now gone, never to return. The Captain was dead and there would be no more adventures. Deep in her heart, Nyota Uhura wished at least one of her old friends were still on Earth, so that she could have someone with which to share the pain. But Scottie and Chekov, both of who had joined the Captain to help celebrate the launch of the Enterprise - B, were still at least a day's journey away as the damaged starship limped home. And even then there would be the inevitable debriefing that would run on forever, as if the inquires of desk bound Admirals could change the facts.
And Sulu, dear Hikaru, was off on Excelsior, the starship he had waited so long for and so richly deserved. And with him, serving as his Communication's Officer, was Janice Rand, her friend and lover of many years past. She knew they both would move the heavens themselves to get back for the memorial that was already being planned, but that was days in the future.
Spock had returned to Vulcan after the Enterprise - A had been decommissioned following the Khitomer Mission. The last that she'd heard was that he'd resigned his Starfleet commission to join the Vulcan Diplomatic Corps. It was already being whispered that someday he would replace his father, Sarek, as that world's Ambassador At Large.
Finally, even Doctor McCoy, who never left Earth these days, had done so to watch his granddaughter graduate from the Vulcan Science Academy. He would return with Spock for the memorial of course, but again that would be at the end of the week.
Several times, Nyota had caught glances from the starshipmen around her. She knew what they expected from her, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was a tradition older than even the Federation, to drink a toast to a fallen comrade. But one who had served with them could only properly raise the toast, and as unlikely as it seemed, no one else in the bar qualified. To drink that toast, to raise her glass and call for all others to do the same, would be to finally admit that he was gone. And as much as her mind said it was so, her heart still couldn't bear to agree.
The sudden clanking of a three hundred year old ship's bell a minute later caused both Uhura and just about everyone in the tightly packed bar to turn and look to the small platform in the corner that had once served as the bridge of a nineteenth century clipper ship. Standing there, clad in the burgundy uniform of a full Commander was a tall, fiftyish blonde, wearing the accouterments of the Communications Division. In her hand she held a crystal tumbler, filled almost to the rim with Saurian Brandy.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Fleet," the woman called out in a powerful yet controlled voice, "I ask you to stand up with me and raise a glass to the memory of the best of us."
Almost in unison, every person in the bar took their glass in hand and rose to their feet. Recognition and relief filled Uhura's eyes as she did so as well. Finally a familiar face, she thought, one that could render the honors that she couldn't.
"To James T. Kirk," the Commander echoed, "Captain, explorer, hero and friend."
The words were simple; they didn't need to be anything more. Many times in the days to come, personages of station would recount in detail the deeds of James Kirk. But among those he called his fellows, such adulation was as unneeded as it would've been unseemly.
"James T. Kirk," the assembled echoed in return as they lifted their drinks and then downed them in one quick shot.
Honors rendered, the blonde stepped down from the impromptu stage and headed immediately to where Uhura was standing. Before Nyota could say a word, the new arrival threw her arms around her and kissed her cheek, the tears that had been held back during the toast now making an appearance.
"Oh Nyota, I'm so sorry," Elizabeth Palmer said as she held her one time superior officer. "I couldn't believe it when I heard it on the Comm channels."
"As much as I didn't want to believe it myself, I'm afraid it's really true," Uhura replied as she returned both the hug and the kiss.
"At least he went out like he would've wanted to," Elizabeth offered, "saving the Enterprise."
"Even if it wasn't his Enterprise," Uhura nodded her head, thinking that the center seat of the vessel that had left orbit early this morning belonged to John Harriman and not James Kirk. That was the reason she hadn't accepted her own invitation to attend the launch.
It seemed so strange to her to have anyone else sit in that seat, even if mentally she knew that made no sense. Other Captains had sat in that chair, Robert April, Christopher Pike, Will Decker, and even Spock, and all had a part in the history of Enterprise.
Just like the crewmen who, unlike her, had come aboard, served a few years, and then moved on, never to return. A class that Elizabeth certainly fell into, yet that made it no less right for her to have given the toast. It was the loss of the Captain that made her feel this way she knew, and she also knew that James Kirk would be the first to say accept what had happened and move on. He did what he had to do, and so should she.
"So how are things going on the Lexington?" Nyota asked to change the subject as one of the bartenders refilled Uhura's drink and poured one for the new arrival.
"About what you'd expect," Elizabeth said as she took a short taste of her drink. "Captain Lincoln expects a lot from his department heads, but I had a good teacher."
Uhura smiled. Elizabeth had spent her time on Enterprise serving first as the relief communications officer and then later deputy department head. Even before her posting, the two of them had been friends, having been in the same year at the Academy. Both being in Communications, their classes were always overlapping and during their last term they had even roomed together.
They spent the next half hour catching up, sharing information about common friends, recounting tales of days long past. The only problem was, try as they could to avoid it, the conversation always came back to the one that brought the both of them to Club 606.
"You know what we really need to do?" Elizabeth asked.
