Path: newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net!stamper.news.atl.earthlink.net!elnk-atl-nf1!newsfeed.earthlink.net!atl-c03.usenetserver.com!news.usenetserver.com!newsread.com!newsstand.newsread.com!POSTED.newshog.newsread.com!not-for-mail Newsgroups: alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated Approved: ascem@earthlink.net Organization: Better Living Thru TrekSmut Sender: ascem@earthlink.net Message-ID: From: Istannor@Aol.com MIME-Version: 1.0 Mailing-List: list ASCEML@yahoogroups.com; contact ASCEML-owner@yahoogroups.com Subject: New: TOS: A Higher Duty:4/28 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Lines: 364 Date: Fri, 03 Dec 2004 05:55:05 GMT NNTP-Posting-Host: 209.198.142.218 X-Complaints-To: Abuse Role , We Care X-Trace: newshog.newsread.com 1102053305 209.198.142.218 (Fri, 03 Dec 2004 00:55:05 EST) NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 03 Dec 2004 00:55:05 EST Xref: news.earthlink.net alt.startrek.creative.erotica.moderated:85890 X-Received-Date: Thu, 02 Dec 2004 21:55:54 PST (newsspool2.news.atl.earthlink.net) Title: A Higher Duty Author: Istannor Contact: Istannor@aol.com Series: TOS Rating: PG13 for violence Part: 4/28 Codes:TOS Summary: This is set during the second 5 year voyage of the Starship Chapter 4 Cygni Beta 1 was a beautiful planet and the diplomatic meeting was to be held away from the capital, near the mountains in the Northern Hemisphere. The weather was more temperate in that region. It had been felt that more of the delegates would be comfortable there. Kirk was happy over the choice as it put him closer to the wilderness areas of Cygni 1 most famous for rugged beauty. He was definitely more at home in space, but an occasional sojourn in the wilds always recharged his batteries. His only regret was he would be solo on all but the last two days of this trip. He privately hoped Spock and Bones could get back and join him early. The fresh air, filled with new and alien aromas, assailed him as he stepped out of the transportation center of the diplomatic complex. He walked slowly across the complex, following the escort who had immediately greeted him as soon as the transporter beam had cycled off. The poor man almost jumped out of his shoes when Kirk introduced himself. The man was so obviously nervous at meeting him that Kirk gave him his most reassuring smile. He was escorted to his quarters and then he checked in for the conference. Signs of the over fifty different races in attendance were all over the conference. Trade banners, travel booths, hawkers of tourist trinkets and exotic delights, all wanted the same thing: come, visit and buy. The diplomatic staff hurried around the complex in a rush to get all the final details ironed out before the official start. He looked forward to stowing his gear and getting to the banquet, since he had skipped lunch to get planetside. He stared at himself in the mirror and almost saw the man from the first five year voyage looking back at him. He had been underweight when they had tied him to a desk, but getting his ship, and his friends, back had restored his appetite and his health. Fortunately, secondary to Spock's influence, he rarely ate meat anymore. So, McCoy's weight loss diets were a thing of the past. If he worked out daily, maybe he could destress enough to keep from shooting anyone or saying anything dangerous. And, for once, he could look forward to eating at a banquet without worrying about Bones looking over his shoulder. Yes, he really needed to rehearse the positives."Crap," he muttered."That didn't help one damn bit." After stowing his gear, he strolled through the huge maze of gardens in the central courtyard, between the guest quarters and the conference wing. The maze was lush, and filled with whimsical topiaries interspersed between towering walls of vegetation; it was beautiful and it smeeled good too, so he decided to come and run the maze later. If he worked hard enough at it, he might be able to do it blind- folded before the end of the conference. He made it to the banquet hall in time to see the Klingon delegation being introduced as they entered. He got in line and patiently waited his turn. He had been ordered to join the Federation Ambassador's party on arrival. When he got to the doorman, he quietly told him his name and was announced. "Gentlebeings, I have the honor of introducing to you, Admiral James T. Kirk, Citizen of the United Federation of Planets and Captain of the USS Enterprise." The crowd all seemed to turn and stare at once, He got the distinct feeling that he was waering a target on his chest as he walked across the room. A protocol clerk led him to his seat. Thankfully, his seat was with three pleasant young diplomats trade envoys from the unaligned planets, one Andorian, and one Vulcan who had been raised in a mixed Human and Vulcan Colony. It seemd liek he wouldn't be forced to eat looking down his fork at truly hostile faces tonight. He could relax a little. He had been anticipating the worse, like a table full of Klingons with deceased brothers who had been on some ship he had blown up. Anything less was a real pleasure. Dinner was uneventful. The food was delicious, as expected, and the conversation was neutral and superficial, which was also the norm at occasions such as these. The Vulcan, Sturm, knew Sarek and Amanda and Kirk was able to learn the most recent news on their whereabouts and adventures. He knew Spock would appreciate an update on his parents since as a rule, he did not correspond closely with his father, though he and his mother were doing much better in that department. The distance was the last stubborn remnant of the years of estrangement from his father. Years before, Kirk had asked Spock if the friendship between them had further distanced father from son. Spock had raised both eyebrows at that and stated: "There would be no logical reason for my father to object to our friendship. Actually, Amanda has clearly stated her belief that you are a good influence on me." Kirk remembered cracking up. He had been called many things, but he could not remember the last time anyone had called him a good influence. He was smiling to himself and trying to remeber where the table conversation had left off when the main Romulan party was announced. They were a large party that included the Romulan Ambassador to the Federation, the Romulan Ambassador to the Unaligned worlds, and two striking women who were not uniformed, and one serious looking little boy, a most unusual composition for any Romulan party. An older, strongly compact Romulan seemed to hover around the women, even more protective than the very obvious bodyguards that flanked them at both sides. The party intrigued Kirk. At least they might be interesting to talk to, he thought, if he could get anywhere near them. But, it probably wouldn't happen since the Romulans tended to treat him like a sexually transmitted disease ever since the incident at the Neutral Zone. At the exact moment of that last errant thought, the smaller woman at the head of the party turned and looked straight at him. A jolt ran through him. She had attempted to "read' him. His mental shields had held, he knew, but the attempt interested him even more. Just as he vowed to find out more about them, he heard their names being announced. "Ambassador Trank of Romulus, House d'tTrenk, accompanied by the lady M'arenn of the house S'Thor." Kirk noted that no one else in the entourage was introduced. That usually meant they were servants. In this case, however, he was not sure the nameless servant rule held true. Patience, Jim, let the story unfold, he told himself. Just watch the group closely. Act like you're eager to find out all you can about the Rihannsu and Klingon cultures. He wouldn't really be lying. He never knew what bit of information might prove useful. One part of his brain told him he shouldn't think about combat strategy at a diplomatic conference. The other part said, why not? Anyway, it was hard to turn it off and it might not be smart to turn it off. He spent the rest of the evening circulating, smiling,and being civilized. Somehow, no matter how hard he tried to meet them, the Romulans always seemed to end up on the opposite side of the room from him. Since one of them was obviously a telepath, he took the hint and left them alone. Relatively early, he retired to his room , primarily to catch up on some paperwork he had brought along, and read some articles about the latest research on warp engine capabilities, and failed attempts at modifications. It helped him anticipate what Scotty was going to ask to do next. Afterwards, he did his nightly light work out. All in all, at least for the first day, he had managed to do an acceptable job. So, he patted himself on the back and went to sleep. On the third day of the conference, Kirk was scheduled to give a brief talk to the assembled representatives regarding the role of Starfleet in the future growth of the Federation. He had been given a canned speech, with clear instructions to stick to the script. He tried to give the speech all the interest he could in view of its rather pedantic content. Finally, he reached the end followed by some polite applause. It was more than he expected and probably more than the speech deserved. The Cygnian ambassador, RTabor, came to the podium to congratulate him and give a few words of appreciation for his "inspiring words". Kirk couldn't tell if the dig was accidental or intentional. Then, just as he was about to leave the podium, RTabor went against precedent set for all the other presentations given up to that point. He opened the floor to questions. Kirk was interested to note the lights flash across the room as far too many delegates signaled for a chance to ask a question. He sighed. it was an ambush. 'See,' he told himself, 'this is why you think strategy at a damn conference.' The first question was from the Orion delegate and Kirk braced himself. There was no love lost between the Orion's and the Federation. The Orion's were well known to unofficially participate in pirating, large-scale smuggling, and an underground slave trade. Since Kirk hated the concept of slavery, he took every chance he could to make the lives of illegal traders from that sector of space a pure hell. He did not even attempt to apologize for his attitudes towards their practices. IDIC just did not seem to encompass those types of behaviors, not in his mind. "Captain," The Orion began, "you state Starfleet's primary goal is the exploration of space, for the good of all the beings of the Federation. However, you are a well-known figure to this person, in that you have personally captured, or destroyed over twenty ships from Orion space. You illegally insisted they were engaged in pirating or illegal trades. I submit, Captain, Starfleet is nothing but the military arm of the Federation, and your sole purpose is the eventual takeover of our space. You want all space humanized, made uniform in the image of man. The Federation is a Human first, racist society. We poor unfortunates who stand against you, are subjected to the predations of your mighty starships and you, Captain, are the worst of the lot." The assembly had an air of hushed expectancy as they waited for Kirk's response. Spock had once told a court-martial board that Kirk did not panic and was constitutionally unable to panic. He had said unequivocally that any assumption Kirk had acted out of panic was in error. His First Officer's faith in him, especially then, had been inordinately satisfying. He still wasn't sure Spock had been entirely accurate, because could and did feel what he thought was panic. The difference between for him was what panic did to him. It transported him to somewhere else, where time slowed and things crystallized. He went into a zone where he was able to see strategies many moves ahead, and pick what he needed to do. He entered the realm of possibilities and was able to draw on the gifts he had inherited. His heritage was a curse and a charm, one he denied and fought against when it suited him and used when he needed its assets. At the age of thirteen, he had killed to save lives, his and those he had taken under his protection. Kodos the Executioner had killed 4000 men, women, and children to save the other half of the world's population during the famine on Tarsus 4, or so he said right before the phasers cut down the innocent. Kodos, the Executioner was dead, but his death had come many years after a young Jim Kirk had tried to kill him. A mere boy, Kirk had killed over 20 other grown men. Starfleet had pushed that figure upwards, but he didn't remember those others. He had been at the mercy of his memories and his heritage and they had died. To save the lives of those he had chosen to protect, he had killed with deadly purpose, and something inside of him had died, never to live again. A year had passed before he had found his feelings again and now he held on to them all. Spock had once told him that he, meaning Jim, truly did not understand panic, if he thought that becoming utterly calm was what it was. Kirk had laughed at the time at being instructed on emotions by the master of emotional control. Fortunately, there was no need to panic and was an merely an inconvenience. These type of questions didn't kill you, so there was no need to panic. He looked out of the mass of waiting faces, and read who was openly hostile, friendly, or neutral. Several strategies raced through his mind. He suddenly knew which one would work to get him the biggest bang for the buck ... the truth. "Remind me Ambassador, what exactly was your question?" A low rumble of amusement flowed through the hall. "Oh, wait, now I remember. You have actually underestimated the number of vessels the Enterprise has captured or destroyed from your region of space, Ambassador. However, I will continue to do so, as long as anyone enters Federation space and threatens the safety and sovereignty of it's citizens and its member worlds. That is one of our jobs, and we are very, very good at doing our jobs. My crew and I actively seek out and stop anyone, or anything, that interferes with the ability of a citizen of the Federation to live in peace, or to exercise their bedrock right to freedom of choice. A citizen of the Federation has freewill, and must be allowed to exercise their freewill to the extent it does not destroy the lives of others. I did not say other humans; I said others. Be they from the least powerful planet in the Federation, or be they from Vulcan itself, our ship will defend their rights. However, I can not and will never defend the right to involuntary rape, murder, enslave, rob or terrorize another being. To date, I have never seen any culture yet that approached the Federation demanding to be murdered or enslaved. If one does, then so be it. I will defend that as their choice. Any ship that enters Federation space with that intention has to get through me first and that is very hard to do. The Enterprise has never been known to attack without provocation. We also have never been known to lose once challenged. I have no shame or insecurities regarding our record. It is open for all to see. When you read that record, you will see a list of all of our military encounters. You will, if you have any pretense of fairness, also see our record of exploration and discovery of beings never before known to the Federation. On our first five year mission, we visited more planets, mapped more systems, and welcomed more races to the Federation then any other Federation ship has done in all the years prior, or since. We are now on our second tour of duty; and we plan to continue doing what we do best. Some of you, sitting here, first heard of the Federation as a direct result of the Enterprise making contact with you. If it wasn't us, then it was some other ship with the same goals and ideals, just a different name. I will not apologize for our successes, nor excuse our failures. We have had both. I will tell you this: regardless of our perceived might, any ship of the line will gladly lay down its life for the defense of all of our citizens, no matter how humble, no matter how different their beliefs, or practices. Variety enriches and strengthens us; it allows us to grow beyond any limitations our individual cultures, or citizens might have. Sameness is death, and it is the antithesis of freedom. We do not offer you freedom to be like earth humans; as a member of the Federation, you have the right to the freedom to achieve your highest destiny, and my ship stands ready to fight... or die, to insure that freedom." When Kirk finished giving his totally unscripted, politically incorrect, unsanitized response he had no doubt Starfleet would be on the horn by the morning. There was silence. Then a light smattering of applause started from the back of the hall and spread slowly, until it rose to a roar of approval. Many of those present stood to give him an ovation. He gave a brief nod and exited from the podium to join the Ambassador who was gesturing for him to quickly return to his seat, probably before anyone else could ask a question. He wondered briefly if McCoy and Spock would consider this as staying out of trouble. Maybe he wouldn't tell them. His mind continued to wander along the lines of how to escape the anticipated ribbing from his friends. He had only told the truth to the best of his ability, but the look the Ambassador was giving him was not a good one. The diplomats would have to clean up any difficulties he had created, and he'd have to hear about what a pain he was, over and over again until they got tired of the refrain. So what. It was what they got paid for and he wasn't dissatisfied with what he had said especially since it shut up the Orion, which felt damn good. The rest of the session was uneventful. [Non-text portions of this message have been removed] ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ ASCEM messages are copied to a mailing list. Most recent messages can be found at http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCEML. NewMessage: