Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.pas.earthlink.net!elnk-nf2-pas!newsfeed.earthlink.net!wn11feed!worldnet.att.net!199.218.7.141!news.glorb.com!sn-xit-02!sn-xit-01!sn-post-02!sn-post-01!supernews.com!news.supernews.com!not-for-mail From: "PineTrees" Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative Subject: COR TOS The Porch [G] K, 1/1, challenge response Date: Mon, 6 Sep 2004 10:32:45 -0500 Organization: Posted via Supernews, http://www.supernews.com Message-ID: <10jp0ng763g2371@news.supernews.com> Reply-To: "PineTrees" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Newsreader: Microsoft Outlook Express 6.00.2800.1437 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1441 X-Complaints-To: abuse@supernews.com Lines: 124 Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative:160657 X-Received-Date: Mon, 06 Sep 2004 08:32:01 PDT (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Reposting to correct word wrap issues. Archivist, please use this version. Title: The Porch Author: PineTrees Contact: p1netrees@yahoo.com Series: TOS Part: 1/1 Rating: G Codes: K, challenge response Archive: Yes Beta: Jungle Kitty Summary: a response to Stephen Ratliff's Call of Duty challenge on ASCEM. ---------------------------------- The Porch The old woman watched from the porch as the boy worked on her yard. It was hot out, there was no shade in the yard, and he was sweaty. He was doing a good job, taking care to get the corners and edges, not rushing through it like a lot of 14-year-olds would. She had a bot, of course; but the bots were not perfect, and once hers had trimmed when it should have skirted. She had banished it to the fields despite the boy's protests. Lose a few ears of corn in the interest of efficiency and automation? Fine. Lose one of her beloved meadow rose shrubs? Never. He was a good looking boy, would doubtless grow into a fine-looking man, but for now he was still much too skinny. That thought gave her pause. "Jimmy!" she shouted. When she had his attention, she said, "Come over here and sit on the porch for a few minutes. Keep me company." The boy put down the cutter with a smile, and headed for the porch. When she was sure he was on his way, the woman pushed herself out of her chair with some effort, and went into the house to get refreshments. She came out a few minutes later to find him sitting on the steps, apparently concerned that he would mess the porch furniture with his sweat. She set down her tray on the floor and carefully took a seat next to him. She had brought iced lemonade with lots of sugar, and dense, homemade bread with cold butter. As high-calorie a snack as she could make without risking having the boy throw up when he went back to work. The boy and his brother had been doing chores on her farm since her Henry had passed away several years ago. It was a trade, of sorts. Their mother had died eight years ago, and their father had resigned from Starfleet to come home and raise the boys. After a while, he had become concerned about the lack of a maternal influence in the boys lives. He had asked Joan to come visit, and she had. Over time, she had taught the boys how to cook, keep their clothes presentable, clean house, and other domestic arts. She had shushed them when they tried bad language, and answered their questions about girls as honestly as she could. She did not replace their mother. She called them by their given names and the boys called her Mrs. McCarthy. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cold drink and fresh bread. "I've been thinking about Starfleet," he said suddenly, looking down at his feet. "What would you do in Starfleet?" she asked. "Well, I was thinking maybe Security. They always get to go to planets and see things. I wouldn't want to always be stuck on the ship. And," he said, with just a trace of shyness, "Dad says I can fight pretty well for my age. I think I'd make a good security officer." "Your father was a security officer, wasn't he?" "Um hmm." "What does he say?" "He says I should find my own path, something I'm good at." "You ever think maybe you could run one of those ships some day?" "No," he replied with certainty. "No way. I don't want to do that." "Why not? That captain, the one who picked you and the rest of the kids up." "Captain Nogura," Jimmy said. "Didn't he ask you to think about trying for it?" He replied slowly, and had obviously given the topic some thought beforehand. "He gets to make all the decisions, but.he never just has a normal conversation. It's always, Captain this or Sir that. So and So reporting for duty. Nobody ever talks with him like you and me are doing right now," Jimmy said. "I don't think he has any friends." After a few seconds, he continued. "And," he said, pushing his hands out for emphasis, "he never, EVER, gets to talk to any girls." Aha, Joan thought. The real issue. "And I just don't think I'd be very good at that." They sat in silence for a while longer. Then the boy pushed himself up, saying he'd better finish. He went back to work, while the woman returned the tray to her kitchen and then went back to her chair on the porch. It took him about a half hour to finish up. He swept the clipped grass off the walk back onto the lawn, and carefully re-edged the border of her flower bed. Finally, he gathered up the tools, cleaned them off, and put them back in the equipment shed. "Thanks for the food, Mrs. McCarthy," he said. "See you later." "Thank you for your help, Jimmy," she said. She did not pay him for the work. His father would not allow him to accept it. FINIS NewMessage: