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 Captain's Fuh-q Fest.
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"Hear now the sentence of the Federation Council," the President of that Council said in a powerful voice, pausing for a moment to clear his throat. "Because of certain mitigating circumstances, all charges but one are summarily dismissed."
A loud buzz filled the chamber as the eyes of a hundred Federation representatives centered on the seven Starfleet Officers standing before the President's podium. The delegates had come to know their names well during their deliberations, at least those few who didn't know them before. In days past, these seven had been considered among the pride of Starfleet. Some would even say legends. Yet, as it was once said, only legends live forever. Not the flesh and blood that made them.
"The remaining charge, disobeying orders of a superior officer is directed only at Admiral Kirk," the white bearded President said as he looked up and centered his gaze on the chestnut haired Flag Officer to his right. " I'm sure the Admiral will recognize the necessity of keeping discipline in any chain of command."
"I do, sir," the veteran Starfleet Officer simply said, the expression on his face giving no inkling of the relief he felt.
It had been James Kirk's greatest fear that his fellow shipmates would pay the price of his actions. They had stood accused of the theft of the Starship Enterprise, the very ship Kirk had commanded for almost two decades, as well as the sabotage of the USS Excelsior. Also having aided in the destruction of the Enterprise and disobeying direct Starfleet orders. Kirk could personally bear any punishment, save that of having his friends lose all simply because they chose to stand by his side. That he alone would now shoulder the burden gave him the strength to endure what would come next.
"James T. Kirk," the Council President continued as a deafening hush took hold across the room. "It is the judgment of this Council that you be reduced in rank to Captain."
An uncertain murmur issued from the audience. Captain Spock, standing with his longtime friend, turned his head to look at the impassive expression still on Kirk's face. To any other, Kirk's face seemed to be still set in stone, but the Vulcan could see beyond the obvious and studied the reaction in his eyes.
"... and as a consequence of your new rank, " the President continued, "you be given the duties for which you have repeatedly demonstrated unswerving ability ... the command of a Starship"
It took a few moments for the crowd to react, seconds that the other crewmen of the late Starship Enterprise didn't need to understand what had just been said. Rather than punishing their Commander, the Federation had just granted him his heart's deepest desire. Kirk himself still seemed almost afraid to react to the news. It was as if he hadn't heard the President's words.
But he had heard them, and a heartbeat later the implications of what had been said caught up with the crowd as well. A few scattered reactions began to quickly grow into loud applause.
"Silence!" the President thundered with such force that order was quickly restored.
"Captain Kirk, your new command awaits you," the President concluded, the smile that was reflected on most of the assemblage now apparent on his face as well. "You and your crew have saved this planet from its own short-sightedness ... and we are forever in your debt."
This time, no words from the President could hold the crowd in check. Almost as one, the delegates rose to their feet to give Kirk and his crew a standing ovation. It was only then that James T. Kirk finally allowed himself to react and let the wave of adulation wash over him.
-=-=-=-
Two weeks had passed since that morning in the Federation Council Chambers. Fifteen days during which Jim Kirk had waited for some word of the command that the President had promised.
At first, the President had made it sound as if they were going to walk out of the hall and transport right to the bridge of his new ship. It was only after the proceedings that Kirk learned that it was up to Starfleet Command to decided when and where his new command would be.
Despite the praises that the President and the Federation Council had heaped upon him, James Kirk still had his share of detractors in Starfleet. Officers who had been disappointed that the "boy wonder" had managed to once again change the rules. Even now, in his late 50's, his critics still hung that appellation on him. A holdover from the day he had become the youngest officer ever to command a Constitution Class Starship. In both the years before and since, Kirk had been a hero, reaping a hero's rewards. And that was something that constantly rankled those who owed their slow advancement to playing the game by the rules.
In the last two weeks, Fleet Command had taken full advantage of the Captain's hero status and had him represent Starfleet at numerous functions. None of which, in Kirk's opinion, mattered a damn. The worse part was that he had to endure it without any of his friends. They were all too busy tying up some of the loose ends of the lives they'd so casually tossed aside to help him save Spock and McCoy. They had done so without the slightest hesitation, so Jim could hardly ask them to do more, just to keep him company.
Even Spock and McCoy, his two closest friends in the galaxy were unavailable. Despite what the healers back on Vulcan had said, Starfleet Medical was determined to decide on their own if a man, even a Vulcan, was medically fit to return to duty after having come back from the dead.
McCoy hadn't left Spock's side during the two weeks of tests they had put him through. Unwilling to even now admit how much he cared for the Vulcan whose consciousness he had shared after the death of his body, the former Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise insisted that he was just there to make sure that the resurrected Vulcan didn't become some desk bound researcher's science project.
Hikaru Sulu had gone off on a short trip with his teenage daughter, Demora, trying to make up for yet another of his growing and too frequent absences. Pavel Chekhov, adopted Uncle and Godfather to the young girl had gone along as well. When she heard the plans of the helmsman and navigator, Nyota Uhura, former Communications Officer, had decided to tag along with the group, if only to balance out the male/female ratio.
The final member of the Enterprise Seven, as the media had referred to them, was Montgomery Scott, Chief Engineer on the late Enterprise and for a short time Captain of Engineering on the Excelsior. He had spent the last two weeks supervising the recovery of the Klingon Bird of Prey that Kirk and company had crashed into San Francisco Bay.
Even Gillian Taylor, the woman from the 20th Century that Kirk had brought forward to his own time had already left Earth on a Science Vessel bound for Mer. The plan was to recruit some water breathing species to help in the project to repopulate Earth's oceans with the humpback whales that Kirk had brought back as well. As much as he would've like the chance to get to know her better, he could hardly fault her for being in a rush to explore this strange new world.
Yet even with all the small disappointments, Jim Kirk wasn't about to complain. He'd lived the life he wanted and if for some reason it ended here and now, well he would deal with that as well. They had saved the Earth, once again, and more important to him on a personal level, he had saved Spock. Years before, at the time of Spock's Pon Farr, Kirk had told McCoy that Spock's life was at least worth a career. Today, at what he thought of as the twilight of his career, the newly demoted Admiral felt no different.
Kirk turned from the large bay window through which he'd been watching the sun set and poured himself a glass of what was still colloquially called Romulan Ale. It was the bottle that McCoy had given him for his birthday a few months before. His eyes focused on a small collection of photos resting on the mantle above the fireplace. Images of people he had loved in the past.
His parents, George and Winona, taken at their Iowa farm when Jim and his older brother, George Jr. had been children. A second picture showed an older Jim Kirk in a Starfleet Cadet's uniform, arm in arm with another student. Gary Mitchell had been the best friend of his early career and Jim still thought of him as a lost brother. That last photo was that of David Marcus, the son he had not seen grow to manhood, and had too little time to know before he was killed.
Raising his glass to the mantle, Jim drank a toast to all of them, as well as all those others he had lost along the way. In the almost four decades that he'd been a Starfleet Officer, Kirk had lost his share of crewmen under his command. If asked, he could recite the name of every one of them.
A glance at the antique clock on the wall told him that it was almost time for Starfleet's daily delivery of his schedule for the morning. For some reason, they were being hand delivered each night. Someone's idea of keeping him on a short least he supposed. Still, if nothing else, it gave him a chance to meet some of the new blood in Starfleet that he might otherwise never encounter. He had to smile as he remembered how some of the newly commissioned Ensigns had been intimidated by his presence. It brought back memories of the first time he had met Robert April and Kimitake Noguchi. Some things never changed. Hopefully the one who showed up tonight would be made of sterner stuff. He could use a little conversation.
Almost as if on clue, the door to his apartment chimed softly. Jim put down the glass of ale and slid both it and the distinctive bottle out of sight. Technically, the Rihannsu beverage was still considered contraband and he wouldn't want to have some junior officer spreading the story that Captain Kirk went around breaking the rules. At least not without a good reason.
Picking up his burgundy uniform jacket from the chair he had left it, Jim slid it on over his white turtleneck. He might as well give the messenger the full treatment since no doubt he'd be telling his friends all about meeting the legendary James T. Kirk.
"Enter," Jim called out as he approached the door, triggering the computer-controlled response as the door slid open.
Kirk put on what he thought of as his friendly commander smile to greet the Ensign, only to have it vanish and be replaced by one of pleasant surprise. The blond haired woman standing in the now open door was hardly a green Ensign, nor was she a stranger. Twenty years before, she had been his Yeoman when he'd first taken command of the Enterprise. Now, she wore the gold insignia of a Lieutenant Commander. Her uniform was almost identical to Kirk's own, with the exception of a skirt in place of slacks and a light gray turtleneck in place of a Captain's white.
"Janice!" Jim Kirk said in surprise as the blond returned his smile.
"Good evening, Captain," Janice Rand said she stepped into the room. "It's good to see you again."
