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Date: Mon, 21 Jun 2004 19:17:16 -0400
Subject: [ASC] NEW TOS STORY:  'Incognitus Militis' [G] (1/1)
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On 21 Jun 2004 07:50:47 -0700, in alt.startrek.creative
myschemingmind@aol.com (Schemer) wrote:

Title: Incognitus Militis
Author: Schemer
Email: MySchemingMind@aol.com
Series: TOS. Movieverse-aft ST V: TFF
Rating: G
Code: Angst/Drama;  Kirk, McCoy
Summary: Just my take on the idea of the red shirt and death business

Incognitus Militis

Standing at the foot of the six by three foot black coffin, Captain
James T. Kirk stared silently at the cold gleaming box, hands tightly
clasped behind him and an expression of reflective self-reproach set
deep in his face.

McCoy stood quietly off to the side, watching his friend who had been
frozen to the spot since entering the small room a few minutes
earlier. He had been expecting Kirk to appear for the last few hours,
but he was admittedly surprised when he showed up at this late hour.

The staff that had accompanied the body down to the preparation room
had been sent away by McCoy once they had placed the deceased into the
coffin and he had been satisfied in general with the results. He
despised these times even though in reality they were few and far
between, they were still too many for him.

The request had been made for the body to be given a proper service
aboard ship, then would be taken to the nearest starbase where it
would be shipped back to earth and given a proper burial service by
the family. A rarity these days, in the sense that in most
circumstances there generally never were any remains to gather to be
prepared for shipment back to a family. Death's aboard a starship were
usually handled with report to Star Fleet and a personal message sent
to the family by the Captain. Very tidy, neat and impersonal for the
most part, keeping everyone's hands clean of the situation.

This day was different and McCoy solemnly found himself using his
examination room as a mortuary instead of a place for healing. He had
done best to prepare the body itself for the long trip back to earth,
working in a grim, cold silence, unconsciously engraving the young
man's face in his mind for the rest of his days.

A few years had past since the last time he had been confronted with
such a task, atleast during his last tour of duty he had realized
during his work. It wasn't exactly a task that one wrote down in their
diary for prosperity. You wouldn't forget the job or the individual
that was laying in front of you.

This was slightly different however. Not for the individual involved
or the manner in which he had died. He was significant in another
fashion. One that bothered the Doctor, since he knew it would be
eating at Jim the second it had time to register.

It was the first death of a crewmember since Jim had been given back
the ‘Enterprise' after the tribunal had relieved him of his flag
officer stance after they had returned to earth from their sojourn to
Genesis and then on to Vulcan.
 
He had always taken every death hard that occurred under his charge
since he had his first command. There were no words that would ever
change that, no matter how eloquent and true they were or how gently
or firmly spoken. Every man and woman, no matter race, religion or
creed that was aboard this ship, or any ship for that matter that he
would be in command of, was his personal responsibility. No matter
what their assignment aboard the ‘Enterprise', they were in his care
and he was obligated by more than the words in his orders to make sure
they are brought back alive to family and home.

This young man was the latest reminder that he had again set himself a
task that was impossible. Realistically both men knew there was no
humanly way he could protect every single individual aboard this ship
in action or orders. It cut deep however, no matter the circumstances.
Especially now.

In the last year, Kirk had faced more pain and anguish in one time
than he had any other time of his career or life for that matter. And
it changed a man. Changed him down to his core, even if he kept it
from rising to the surface for those around him to see.

McCoy had noticed it though, as no doubt Spock had. The grief would be
there, albeit briefly, in the dark hazel gaze that would be
momentarily lost in thought. That was much as he would let show of the
emotions that were still struggling against one another within him. He
was built that way, enjoying to flaunt his human feelings when it was
necessary and yet when it came to his personal life, it ended there.
When he allowed himself those infrequent moments of expression, he
startling kept it under control breaking only when the burden weighed
too heavily.
Watching him now, McCoy believed he knew what was going through his
friends mind as he continued staring at the austere casket. However,
he discovered that he didn't know everything about the man when Kirk
spoke for the first since entering the room.

"Ensign Ryan Moyer. Security. Serial number: 06-783-9802S. Died in the
line of duty stardate: 8476.2 onboard the ‘U.S.S. Enterprise', while
protecting the lives of both civilians and crewmembers." Hesitating,
Kirk took in a breath and seemed to have aged a few more years in the
process. "And that's all we know of the man."

Eye drifting down to the coffin, McCoy started to reply but stopped
himself well aware of what was meant in the last words and could feel
as well as hear the bitterness in them.

"The man gave his life for my ship and crew, and I don't know damn
thing about him. A name and that he gave his loyalty to me." Kirk's
voice was cold and angry, as a his face darkened with his indignation.
"How many died in those first five years in similar situations that
now I couldn't begin to remember their names or what actually happened
to cause their death, other than following my orders."

Abruptly moving, Kirk walked around to the opposite side of the casket
his eyes still fixed on the gleaming onyx colored lid, then raised his
stare to the Doctor's face.

"Can you tell me the names of all the ones we've lost? Or where they
all died?" He demanded, then made a quick aggressive gesture as if
wiping away the words in front of him. "Forget that, can you just tell
me how many we lost all toll?"
At this, McCoy could merely raise both eyebrows in lack of an answer
to the question thrown at him, slightly taken back at Kirk's demeanor,
but could understand it at the same time, as well as feel the overall
regret.

"How many did I lose in those first five years while on an mission,
that by the time I returned to the ship I couldn't have told you the
individual's first name? I know in my own mind that they signed on
knowing that there was always the possibility of being killed on any
mission and that they were expected to follow my orders no matter what
the outcome may appear to be at that moment. But that doesn't change
the hard fact that I neglected my own crew in a number of areas."

A soft scowl tugged at McCoy's face as he took a step forward. "You
can't go around torturing yourself like this Jim, when these things
happen…"

"The hell I can't." Snapped Kirk, while partially turning away from
both the coffin and Doctor as he grapple with his anger. "I have over
four hundred people onboard this ship as we speak and I'd be
stretching it if I said that I could give you the first name of 10
percent of them. Other than that I could tell you absolutely nothing
about most of those."

Remaining silent, McCoy could watch Jim knowing there was nothing he
could say that would keep the man from twisting himself up with his
own resentment. It would need to run it's course until it had burned
through his system and he found his temporary peace again.

"Tomorrow morning I'm presiding over this man's memorial service and
what am I going to say about him? His rank and serial number? That he
gave up his life to save others? I know nothing about him. What he did
during his off time. What he believed in or didn't. Nothing."
Turning back toward the casket, Kirk stared at it disdainfully. "It's
wrong."

"Wrong?" Repeated McCoy, the uncertainty clear in his voice as he also
moved his gaze back to the coffin. "What?"

"It's wrong Bones." Kirk's voice had dropped down to just above a
whisper. "It's wrong that we keep treating these men and women as
nothing more than individuals, dressed in a red uniform without a name
or face. They need to be known, so they can be remembered in their
death."

There was a pause, causing McCoy to glance up at Kirk who had in that
tiny span of time regained his command, his face once more set into an
expression of quiet remorse as he laid a hand on the cool black
coffin.

"It's wrong." He murmured once more, as he let his hand slide off the
casket and stepped away with one final look of admiration at the sleek
black box before slowly heading toward the door, a trail of words
following him. "It's time that they were no longer considered our
unknown soldiers."

FIN

Constable Katie, ASC* Archive team
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