|Infinite Diversity and Combinations
Author: To.The.Hilt PM
Sequel to "A Study in IDIC" Peter Kirk on an All-Vulcan ship. In his own words: "This may be the absolute worse year of my life, or it may turn out to be the best thing I've ever done." Let's see what kind of a year he has... COMPLETERated: Fiction K+ - English - Friendship/Family - Peter K. & Amanda G. - Chapters: 17 - Words: 46,613 - Reviews: 103 - Favs: 48 - Follows: 39 - Updated: 09-16-12 - Published: 07-23-11 - Status: Complete - id: 7211120
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Summary: Peter Kirk's adventures serving on an all-Vulcan ship. Sequel to "A Study in IDIC" you seriously need to read that before you read this. Don't knock it til you try it.
Author's Note: I would like to begin by quoting one of my favorite authors:
It is the fate of sequels to disappoint those who have waited for them;
and…I must expect the late reappearance to be greeted with hoots, if not with missiles.
The Author was Robert Louis Stevenson. He was a brilliant story-teller… but his sequel to my favorite novel of all time (Kidnapped) did disappoint me, and I promptly wrote my own version (long before I knew that what I had written was "fanfiction").
My point: sequels are difficult. You might be disappointed with this. But if so, feel free to write your own. :)
This isn't complete, but I DO have a plot in mind. Which will get more action-ish later. For now, like Peter, we are just getting settled in. A little rough going, but hopefully will be a fun ride. Please, Let me know what you think. If you have any suggestions, feel free to shoot them my way. I am always open to new ideas or tangents. And if you absolutely hate it, I will delete this chapter and TRY again :) Unlike Stevenson, I live in the age of computer glitches that magically make mistakes disappear.
Disclaimer: Don't own Star Trek. If I did, I'd bribe Leonard Nimoy to be in Star Trek 12… it just won't be the same without him. *sniff*
Warnings: None so far. But I like wiggle-room. Uh... I guess Peter is a Human Male... enough said.
Peter Kirk. Son of the late George "Sam" Kirk, and Nephew to Captain James T. Kirk.
Growing up, little Pete had always been compared to his Uncle. Any time he got himself into trouble, or managed to hurt himself, or sweet talked a girl, or took an insane risk and came out (relatively) unscathed, he'd hear the words, "You're a Kirk alright. Just like Jim."
Honestly… that was okay. He was proud to be a Kirk, and being compared to Jim was a compliment in his book. In fact, he never really gave those words a second thought. When he got older, everybody just assumed he would join Starfleet Academy like his Uncle. So he did. At the Academy, everyone just assumed he would pursue a career as a Fleet Captain like his Uncle. So he did. Things were going great in their oh-so-normal-Kirk way.
Then he was assigned a new Roommate, Soral of Vulcan, and everything changed. Now here he was. Peter Kirk, the brash ever-so-much-like-his-uncle Human, had graduated the Academy with the highest honors… and then promptly applied to serve on the All-Vulcan Ship D'Vahl. Nobody had expected that. Least of all, himself.
Just before he had left the familiarity of Earth, he had told Jim:
I won't lie to you and say I'll stay out of trouble, but I promise the trouble I get into will be just as epic, wild, and fun as befitting a Kirk. This may be the absolute worse year of my life, or it may turn out to be the best thing I've ever done. But either way, I know I can make it.
So far… he still wasn't sure what kind of a year he was in for. He was still very much a Kirk. A Guy who liked pizza, rock music, girls, and fencing. He was now on a ship full of beings who didn't technically "like" anything. They were "interested" in Science and Logic… the two subjects he had never really gotten the hang of. They didn't eat meat (there went all pizza except the all-veggie… not even worth mentioning). They didn't listen to Rock (nor did they appreciate Chekov's Epic Russian Music). He had only managed to break the ice with one girl, and she was still pretty aloof. He tried to get some of the crew members to fence with him, or at least teach him to use Vulcan weaponry, but nobody seemed interested. In short, Peter Kirk stuck out like a sore thumb.
Especially now… considering he was wandering up and down some Deck completely lost.
Walk past Two doors then turn Right. Follow the curved hallway then veer Left. Three more Doors. Turbo Lift. Up Two Decks. Turn Right.
Peter strode swiftly through the labyrinth of corridors. Occasionally, a passing crew-member would glance in his direction as he breezed past, but most chose to ignore him. That was normal. Having a Human on board had become old news.
Peter stopped. Two doors then turn Right… uh… yeah… did that…. there isn't a hallway. Two doors… turn Right… there should be a curved hallway…. What happened?
He turned around, trying to get his bearings. Two Doors… Turn Right. That has to be the correct way! I don't have time for this! I was supposed to be on the Bridge an hour ago!
Just then the ship's alarm went off. Breeeeeeeeeep!
"Mr. Kirk to the Bridge."
"I'm coming but… I don't know where I am! Which deck am I on?" He shouted out. No answer.
Peter ran down the hallway that should be curving but wasn't. He ran and ran and ran until he dashed smack into T'Enya. She looked positively furious with him, "Why do you not go to the Bridge? The Captain is in need of your help!"
"I can't find the Bridge!" He yelled, "What Deck is this?"
"You are out of uniform," she said blankly.
He looked down and to his horror realized he was standing in his boxers.
The ship's alarm went off again. Breeeeeeeeeep.
"Where am I!" he shouted, "What Deck is this!"
Peter sat up in bed and slammed his hand on the alarm. Stupid Stress Dreams.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead and sighed. Two Doors then Turn Right. Yes that was the right way from his quarters to the Bridge. He had only done it every day for the past 10 days. Stinking Nightmare.
He flinched as a loud buzz sounded at his door.
Soral entered quickly, "Are you alright?"
"Uh yeah… sorry… slept through the alarm. Could you hear it?"
"I merely noted the sounds of some… disturbance."
"Oh… I was yelling wasn't I?"
Soral nodded once.
"This makes the third disturbing dream you have had this week."
"They're just stress dreams, Soral. Stupid Human thing that happens when we've been under pressure. Nothing to be worried about. Sides, this one wasn't all bad…" He smirked to himself as he tried imagine what T'Enya's face would really look like if he showed up in nothing but his boxers.
Soral stared intensely at his former roommate, "You never experienced that level of anxiety disturbed sleep while at the Academy, even when you were under considerable strain."
"Well, sorry I disturbed you!" Peter snapped, "I'll think happy thoughts before I go to bed tonight, okay?"
Soral stepped back, clearly puzzled.
"Sorry," Peter sighed, "Didn't mean that. I haven't slept well, obviously. And I accidentally messed up the Coffee programming I slaved over, so I haven't had a decent brew in forever, plus the whole mess from yesterday… Sorry… just ignore me."
Soral walked over to the replicator in question. He pressed five buttons, removed the panel and tweaked a wire, then replaced it. "Starbucks Classic," he said. The steaming mug appeared seconds later. He handed it to Peter without a word.
Peter gulped down the liquid paradise for a moment then swung his legs over the side of his bed and grunted up. He'd gotten used to some things, but the higher gravity always got him in the morning. Felt like crawling out of a pool after you'd been swimming for hours.
"Thanks. That's much better. So…" Peter took another sip then switched to Vulcan, "What duties have you been assigned today?"
"I am still conducting my analysis of the unique chemical you discovered."
"Oh," Peter grinned wryly, "Glad yesterday wasn't a total flop… I have Bridge Duty at 0500."
"I will leave you to your preparations."
Peter watched Soral leave, then groaned.
"I am Peter Kirk," he said aloud to annoyingly blank wall, "Son of the late George Kirk. Nephew of the famous James T. Kirk. I like fancy coffee, deep fried turkeys, and sleeping in. I am on an All-Vulcan ship. And…" his voice trailed off. He took another swig of coffee to drown the lump in his throat, "I'm very tired."
Scotty worked quickly to materialize the three figures onto the Transporter Platform. He skillfully handled the controls until the shimmering faded into the distinct shape of Mr Spock, Dr. McCoy, and Captain Kirk. The three stepped off in unison, leaving a small gelatinous puddle where they had stood.
"Well, how was Glussia then?" Scotty eyed the sticky residue dripping off of the three's leggings onto the hard floor; trying not to cringe at the mess they were making of his Transporter Room.
"It was…" Kirk paused as he wiped a pink-tinged blob off of his shirt, "Different."
"It was like sitting in Jello!" Bones griped, "And we had to wade around in it for hours! I tell you, I'm burning this uniform! No amount of sonic cleaning is ever gonna get that goo out!"
"Our hosts treated us respectfully, the negotiations were lengthy, but the Treaty has been signed," Spock added. Out of the three, he still managed to make his gummy uniform look presentable enough for a full-dress dinner. (Dang him)
"Well, ye best be getting on yer way. Try not to drip too much o' that in the hallways."
"We'll do our best," Kirk said wryly. Their boots made a sucking sound against the hard floor as they marched out, leaving a sticky trail behind them.
Scotty let out a long sigh as he placed a call to Maintenance department, "Send some lads to Deck 3… be prepared to clean up somethin' along the lines of bubble-gum an' gelatin."
You know Pete, you shouldn't complain about boredom. Trust me, meeting new races all the time is NOT all it's cracked up to be. I'm STILL picking goo out of my hair, and I won't tell you how many times I've showered. I'm half tempted to ask Uhura for some of that hair product of hers (and so help me, boy, if you tell ANYONE I said that I will kill you.)
Glad everything is going okay. As to your first Away Team Mission; Congratulations. I ain't gonna lecture you on proper safety because you're a Kirk and you won't listen anyway. But just a reminder: you aren't invincible. There, that's all the lecture your gonna get from me.
If you need another cuss session, you know how to get a hold of me. Frankly, I could use one. Blasted gunk! It's gummed up my computer screen.
Yak at ya later,
Peter grinned. So the Enterprise had bad days too. Somehow that made him feel better.
He glanced up at the time… he still had a half hour left to get ready. Just enough time to send a reply…
Kirk stepped into his clean uniform with a satisfied sigh. Sitting in gunk all day while trying to make a deal with a unique race that resembled giant slugs (in appearance and the speed with which they got anything done) was definitely not high on his list of "fun things you get to do as Captain." But now the deed was done, and their next destination was likely to be considerably drier… he hoped.
He glanced over at his desk. One unread transmission flashed on his computer screen. Jim smiled and settled down in his chair...
Dear Uncle Jim,
Yesterday I got to lead my first Away Team Mission. Had Soral, T'Enya, and Storn (he's the head of Geophysics Dpt. I'm forever reminding myself not to slip up and call him "Stern" but seriously that name just fits) with me.
It was a pretty cut-and-dry type thing. We just took some scans and poked around. Well, I poked around anyway. Poked my finger right into the green water, which turns out wasn't water at all. It took 3 hours to get me unstuck. Turns out the stuff is like concrete when it comes into contact with anything.
Anyway, long story short, I got a nice little lecture on scanning before touching. (Even though I HAD and the scan returned readings which looked like water) I probably won't get to lead anymore Away Team missions for a while. On the plus side, Soral said I had made an interesting discovery about the liquid none-the-less, one that likely wouldn't have occurred had it not been for my "propensity to physically interact with the environment."
Basically, I have been staying (relatively) out of trouble. I finally figured out the environmental controls, so at least I get to come back to cool quarters. Bones gave me an anti-sweat hypo so I don't stink out the crew when I'm working. I've gotten used to the air so I'm not as light-headed anymore. (Although Soral is always reminding me to take it easy. I swear he keeps a Tri-Ox hypo in his back pocket just in case. Does Spock mother-hen you like that?)
I've gotten to where I sometimes dream in Vulcan. Weird huh? I guess that means I've gotten my brain to switch over, finally. I had a dream the other night where I was on the Enterprise with you, and we were eating a huge turkey that had been deep fried. Makes me hungry just thinking of it. So far that is the only real problem I've had. I seriously crave meat all the time. But I'll get used to it. It's only been… 2 weeks? Wow….
Anyway, I better get going. Got Early Bridge Duty.
Miss you guys, say "Hi" to everyone for me. I'll try to write them all soon.
Peter paused his writing to yawn.
"Holy Surak this coffee isn't cutting it," He said aloud. He had approximately 10 minutes left. Just enough time to shave…
The half-eaten bowl of oatmeal was sat aside. He had never been big on breakfasts anyway, but the fact that he couldn't indulge in some sausage or bacon made it doubly hard to work up any appetite. Thank goodness for Lady Amanda. Peter reached into his secret hoard of her cookies and wolfed two.
He checked his appearance one last time.
Anti-sweat hypo? Check.
Self-cooling undershirt? Heck yeah.
Hydration pill? Double Check.
Just a few minutes left… he'd be getting a communication just about… now-
"Soral to Mr. Kirk."
"I would advise you leave for Bridge Duty now."
"Thanks, I'm on my way."
Peter smiled. Soral was a good alarm clock. During his first week he had been paranoid about showing up on time. Somehow Soral seemed to know that, and had simply made a point of reminding him when it was time to navigate his way to the Bridge.
He sped out of his quarters into the wall of heat. Two Doors then a Right. See? No problem. Maybe the day wasn't going to be so bad after all.
"Got me a letter from Pete," McCoy grinned, "Almost made up for the lousy day I had yesterday. Almost."
"Well, what he have to say to you?" Kirk asked as he took a bite from his sandwich.
"Ah, probably nothin' he ain't already told you. Seems to be getting on okay. Has a little crush on that T'Enya chick."
"Yeah I noticed," Kirk smirked, "I'll let Spock's mom handle that one. I did try to give him a heads up that she is probably… er… spoken for."
"Uh-huh, I've told him before that she is out of his league. But he listens to me about as well as you do."
Kirk looked up, "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
To: Commander Spock; USS Enterprise NCC 1701
I appreciate your prompt reply to my inquiry. You're explanation of the Human characteristics pertaining to "home-sickness" was quite enlightening.
I have endeavored to "make him feel at home" (as the Lady Amanda worded it) by aiding him with environmental and replicator adjustments. However, I find the emotional responses he has exhibited towards some matters (such as the minimalist appearance of his quarters and the reticent nature of Bridge Duty) to be beyond my comprehension. I wondered if you might offer some suggestions to further aid Peter through the difficult (though admirable) adjustments he is making in order to function here.
I also wondered if you have any information regarding what Peter calls "Stress Dreams." Your help has been most appreciated.
Lieutenant Soral; D'Kyr Class Starship D'Vahl 00786.9
Hunger Suppressant Patch.
I knew I forgot something!
Peter squirmed in his seat. He tried to concentrate on his readings and ignore the empty feeling in his stomach. Some loose asteroids half a lightyear away… they looked like chocolate chunks. Great Jupiter, chocolate chunks sounded good… might break into Bone's care-package after Bridge Duty …
Peter blinked and internally berated himself for allowing his mind to wander. He couldn't help it, he was hungry. He glanced over at the Lieutenant working next to him. He was a young looking Vulcan by the name of Shoran. He had tried to engage Shoran in light conversation before, but he quickly discovered that chit-chat is frowned upon while on duty. Nobody speaks unless there is something pertinent to say. Pity. Conversation might help him forget how hungry he was.
His body had long since burned through Amanda's cookies. Now he was wishing he'd have finished his bowl of oatmeal like a good-little-human. How much longer til the shift was over? Another problem with Vulcan ships… they looked at you like you were some poor disabled soul when you asked the time. Well… it wasn't like there was a clock on his console, and the only reading his inner-clock was giving him was "Lunch Time."
As if on cue, his stomach produced a I-skipped-breakfast growl. Peter winced. There was no use hoping nobody heard it. He was on a Vulcan ship that was deadly quiet at the best of times. He spared a quick glance at T'Enya who simply blinked once at him. He could almost hear her mentally lecturing him: you forgot your Hunger Suppressant Patch and obviously have failed to adequately nourish yourself before Duty.
His stomach growled again. This time the Captain glanced at him. Peter tried to put on his best Poker Face.
"Mr. Kirk," The Captain intoned.
"The noise you make, is it involuntary?"
"Yes, sir. It is my body's way of indicating it needs food."
"You are relieved Mr. Kirk, I suggest you obtain sustenance. You may resume your post in 1 hour."
Peter suppressed a sigh and walked off the Bridge like a dejected (and very hungry) puppy. Relieved of Duty in front of everybody because he had forgotten his Hunger-Suppressant Patch. That was one for the record books.
"Well aren't I a grand representative of Homo-Sapiens?" He whispered sarcastically as he navigated the maze of hallways towards the Mess Hall, "Yay for Team easily-famished Earth!" Storn rounded the bend at that precise moment.
Peter clamped his mouth shut and entered into the nearby Turbo-Lift silently. He could lie to himself and say that Storn didn't hear him ranting, but it didn't help. His stomach rumbled loudly. Storn entered the Turbo-lift and studied him for a moment.
It was a long ride to the Mess Hall.
You know… It's mornings like this that me wonder if I'm here to serve as a cultural lesson in IDIC, or just provide comic relief to some higher being in the universe.
"You mean to tell me Vulcan stomachs don't growl?"
"Doctor, you should be aware that the hormonal activity within the Vulcan body is under muscular control and can be regulated by trained conscious processes. This allows for control of adrenaline, thyroid and other metabolic systems which, in turn, allows us to alter heart rate, oxygen consumption and other bodily resources. This would naturally include the ability to control and repress the hormone Ghrelin which signals the…"
"I get it Spock: you can tell your body to shut-up." Bones snapped, "Humans are smart enough to just go and eat something when they're hungry!"
Kirk snorted under his breath, "Well… I think Peter learned his lesson."
"Yeah right! He's just like you! Thinks his body is as indestructible as his ego!"
"I take it you gave him a thorough lecture on healthy eating habits?" Kirk tried to change the topic before it turned around and proverbially bit him in the butt.
"No, YOU get the lecture. I saw you sneaking down the hall with that monstrous banana split. Guess who gets collard greens for lunch and dinner this week? Peter I'll leave to Spock's Mom… and I bet you anything he'll get the Kobiyashi Maru of lectures!"
Peter flopped on his bed with a huff. Not the best day ever.
"I am never doing that again," he said loudly to the blank wall, "From now on I'll put on two hunger-patches. Never-mind the warning labels."
He rolled over and lazily reached over to check his messages. During his hour-long lunch he had sent out several hasty transmissions to his support group. He had to admit that, even then, he could see the humor of his predicament. Laughing about it with his Uncle Jim had definitely helped his mood.
He grinned as his screen filled with a Transmission from Vulcan:
I absolutely adored your last two letters. I have a "propensity to physically interact with my environment" as well. I haven't ever gotten stuck in water/concrete before, but I have managed to get myself lost in the Vulcan High Council chambers thanks to my "exploratory nature." I once managed to get myself locked in the Archive Vault. I had gone inside to look at an ancient scroll of Surak, and the doors automatically shut and bolted. After five hours of sitting there, Security finally realized I was inside. To be honest, they were more concerned about the scrolls than me.
I am glad you enjoyed my last batch of cookies, but Pete… they aren't breakfast food. I wouldn't worry TOO much about the "growling" incident today. If it makes you feel better, I HAVE in fact heard a Vulcan's stomach rumble once. Only once, and it was during rather unique circumstances, but it DOES happen to the best of them.
That being said, You need to try to eat better. I know you miss meat, and Vulcan Veggies aren't exactly as appetizing as mashed potatoes or corn on the cob, but if you keep relying on Hunger Suppressants and Stimulants, you are going to pass out on the Bridge… ten times more embarrassing than what happened today. Not to mention you will get as scrawny as Soral. Not exactly the most "aesthetically pleasing" look for you.
I have included some recipes for *good* Vulcan Dishes. I'm sure Soral could help you program them out. My Rule: you can't say "no" until you've taken a bite. Try #8 first. It happens to be Sarek's favorite.
I am very proud of you. I know it is difficult being the only Human surrounded by Vulcans on "their own turf." But, if anything, your sense of humor should get you through the rough spots. My husband would NEVER say it, but he is proud of you too. You know, he follows every report from the D'Vahl like it is a new scientific discovery. And if he sees that I got a Transmission from you, he will ask for me to read it out loud. (He was curious what the "water/concrete" actually was. You might send him the Scientific Data on that.)
After you've tried out my recipes, I will tell you the story of the time I passed out in front of the entire Vulcan Council. I was definitely the comic relief for someone in the Universe that day.
Your Adopted Mom,
Soral glanced over at Peter's computer screen as he gathered up the stack of dirty dishes.
Vulcans for Dummies (aka Humans)
By Peter Kirk
A List of Vulcan Dishes (that are actually pretty yummy)
Peter paused his writing and looked over at Soral, "What was that purple stuff called again?"
#1 Purple Glop called Ihn
"It is sour, not sweet."
Peter chuckled and shook his head. For the past hour Soral had been "in one of those moods." He was never certain if the teasing was on purpose (a concept he'd have dismissed outright 3 months ago) or accidental, but either way… it made up for a rather obnoxious day.
"Have you finished your Filrak?" Soral asked as he eyed the left-over bread.
"You can have the rest. I ate too many of those blue nut-things."
"Soltar, and they are a type of seed," Soral corrected. He seated himself once more to finish off the last of Peter's culinary experiments. After all, it would be shameful to waste the meals. Especially after he'd spent the past 3.5 hours helping Peter program them.
"Okay, that's enough writing," Peter sighed sitting the keyboard back, "Thanks for the programming help."
"It was relatively simple. Lady Amanda's instructions were very clear."
"Yeah… well after the Coffee incident, I don't dare touch that thing. I think it hates Humans."
Soral raised an eyebrow. Then rose to deposit the last of the dirty dishes in the matter-recycler.
"I trust you will endeavor to consume adequate amounts of nourishment tomorrow?" Soral asked in Vulcan.
"Excellent… I understand you will be included in the Landing Party when we reach Arelia IV"
"Really!" Peter stood up excitedly, completely forgetting to speak Vulcan, "The Captain is letting me go?"
"Affirmative. I will be heading the Away Team. It was upon my request that the Captain agreed to include you. However, she wished me to make it very clear that you are to do no exploring or testing without my express permission."
Peter grinned, "No more poking at strange things. Got it. I'll stay out of trouble."
Soral eyed his Human friend. Somehow… he knew that wasn't going to be the case.
Well... What think ye?