Fellowship & Fairydust

By Ariel Klay and the Members of the Starship Asimov Fan Club

Word Count: Story in Progress, to be determined.

Rating: PG-13 (minor blood and sensual content)

Summary: The Adventures of the Crew of Starfleet Science vessel USS Asimov. 

 

Captain’s Log: Stardate 8890876.1, we have arrived at Starbase 506 to take on supplies as the Asimov prepares to complete a series of in-depth scientific studies of recently discovered planetary systems. We will also be putting off and taking on personnel. One crew member in particular who will be leaving us is Lt. Commander Noah Peterson, our old chief science officer, who is taking family leave to return to earth to take care of his recently widowed mother and will be accompanied by his wife, who was our ship’s counselor . Given that the Asimov is a science vessel; Peterson’s replacement is of utmost importance. Commodore Stevens has arranged a meeting with me and my first officer to go over our mission details.

Captain Amanda McCoy and Commander Trevor Stevens walked the hallways of the starbase toward the commodore’s office. As always, the commander felt the curious stares at his commanding officer’s unusual looks that combined faint Klingon cranial ridges, pointed Vulcan ears and upswept eyebrows, loose wavy reddish dark blond shoulder length hair and striking blue eyes. No one seemed to notice his non-descript human features of dark hair, brown eyes and fair skin, but he was used to this, that and having to nearly run to keep up with her purposeful strides, even though at five feet and six inches, she was four inches shorter than him.

“So, Captain, has my father said anything to you about the new science officer?” asked the commander.

“No,” said Captain McCoy, looking puzzled, “and that is rather unusual for the commodore.”

“I’ll say,” Stevens chuckled, “he’s usually much more forthcoming. It must be very important for him to keep quiet about it. He’s got something up his sleeve, I can promise you that.”

The captain snickered softly, “Once again, I’m thankful for your special knowledge of the commodore’s way of thinking.”

“He is my father after all.”

The two reached the commodore’s office and were quickly escorted inside by an aide.

McCoy and Stevens smartly saluted the commodore who returned the salutes and after dismissing the aide, the commodore warmly embraced each of them.

“Good to see you, Amanda, Son!” he nodded to each of them.

“Ever aware of protocol, aren’t you, Dad?” the commander winked.

“Whatever do you mean?!” the older heavy-set man said in mock protest.

“You addressed the captain before me, your own son!” his son’s eyes twinkled.

“Well, she does outrank you, my boy, and (with all due respect) she is older than you and a lady!”

With this, the captain threw back her head and laughed heartily, “Since when!?!”

“Yeah, Dad, you haven’t seen her around other Klingons, downright scary!” he said in mock horror, “She’s no lady, she’s my captain!”

“Yes, but I still can’t seem to get past your Vulcan ears, Amanda,” the commodore shook his head.

“Like my human great-grandpaw always told me, ‘Mandy, honey, I love you, you little mutt!’” the captain smiled.

“Yes, but wasn’t his best friend a ‘mutt,’ too?” asked the commodore, smiling back.

“I think that’s one reason the old man was so fond of me. But enough about old times,” the captain said briskly, “I still need a new science officer.”

“So, there is some Vulcan logic under that Klingon hot-bloodedness,” the commodore said approvingly, rubbing his hands together, “So you know you will be sent to planetary systems with warp technology which were recently contacted to get to know their cultures better. Now, my son is the best in the linguistics business, but only in verbal and written communication.”

“Thanks Dad,” Trevor rolled his eyes, “I’m only human. It’s not like I’m a mind reader.”

“An officer has recently become available who I believe would be an excellent addition to your team,” continued the commodore, “not only as a science officer, but also is uniquely qualified to act as ship’s counselor.”

“Really,” Amanda’s blue eyes widened with intrigue, her upswept eyebrows nearly touching her cranial ridges, “tell me more!”

“Nope, I’m going to have you meet him in person,” the commodore said firmly.

“Wait, can’t I even see his service record?”

“Now, Amanda, I know you prefer to go by your instincts and they will serve you well in this case.”

The captain sighed in mock protest, “Okay, when do I meet him?”

“He’s in the adjoining room.”

“Dad, you don’t miss a trick!”

“I had to learn quick, raising you, son,” the commodore winked and nodded them toward the side door, “Go on in, he is waiting for you.”

The captain and her first officer looked at each other.

“Ladies, first,” Trevor smiled.

Stepping into the room, the two came upon a dark-haired, fair, male Vulcan with eyes that were so dark his pupils could hardly be made out. He wore the customary blue sciences uniform with the rank insignia of a full commander neatly pinned at his collar. Immediately, the captain straightened up and offered the Vulcan salute. The commander stood up to his full height, towering over both of them at nearly six and a half feet. Even Stevens felt short. The Vulcan serenely returned the captain’s salute. Stevens fiddled with his hand, vainly trying to copy their hands and shook his head, muttering, “I’ll never get it.”

“Peace and long life, Commander,” said the captain calmly.

“Live long and prosper, Captain, Commander,” returned the Vulcan in what sounded like a slightly British accent.

“Commodore Stevens did not give me your name, Commander,” said the captain.

“Nor did he give me yours, Captain.”

“I guess it’s a blind date, then,” said Stevens brightly. Both of his captain and the commander stared at him and the first officer colored with embarrassment, “Sorry,” he muttered.

Suddenly, the commander broke into a smile and laughed heartily, “Actually, that was quite funny and accurate, given the situation. I assume the commodore did not want either your captain or myself to be prejudiced about the other’s background, but wanted us to draw our own conclusions.”

“Boy,” Stevens smiled, “You sure are chipper for Vulcan!”

“That’s because he is not fully Vulcan,” said the captain knowingly, “are you, Commander?”

“Very good, Captain,” the commander smirked, “Now can you guess my weight?”

“I can see what the commodore said about you being uniquely qualified,” grinned Stevens, “the good captain likes officers with back bone.”

“Does he always speak for you, Captain?”

“He did start out as my communications officer.”

“So he was recently, promoted?”

The captain and first officer stared at each other.

“My, you have impressive telepathy for a Vulcan hybrid, Commander,” said the captain.

“It must have been an uncomfortable situation, given how quickly you changed the subject,” said the counselor.

“Now, now, Commander, this is not a counseling session,” the captain responded evenly.

“Pardon me, Captain, it is simply that your feelings about the situation are strong, given how personal the situation was, not only to you, but also to you, Commander, who did not like seeing your captain being emotionally manipulated like that. You are not a man of violence, but in your predecessor’s case, you would have been willing to make an exception.”

“Well,” sighed Stevens, “if a court martial wasn’t possible, I would have shoved him out of an airlock.”

McCoy threw back her head and laughed, “My, Commander, I didn’t know you cared,” then shook her head, “No, that’s not true, I knew you did. I just never heard you say that out loud like that. It was a difficult situation, Counselor, but my first officer stood by me like a big brother when I needed a friend and a good officer.”

“Always, Amanda”

“Ah, we finally get a first name,” said the Vulcan, “Care to give me your last?”

“Only if you tell us yours, Commander,” returned the captain.

“Very well, James–”

“Bond,” interrupted Trevor.

The counselor, chuckled, “Believe me, Commander, I’ve heard it before. My uncle who partially raised me was English, thus my accent.”

The captain’s eyes rose in surprise, “You’re part human. I would not expect that kind of telepathic ability in such a hybrid.”

“Actually,” said James evenly, “he was my uncle by marriage.”

“All right, to be fair, my last name is McCoy,” said the captain.

“So you are human on your father’s side?”

“And a little on my mother’s, quit stalling.”

The commander sighed, “My name is James,” he paused, “Troi.”

“Wait,” said Trevor, “any relation to Commander Deanna Troi?”

“As I said, I was partially raised by my uncle, who was Commander Deanna Troi’s father.”

“So Commander Troi is your cousin?” asked the captain and commander together.

“Yes,” said Commander Troi, as if revealing a horrible family secret.

The captain said slowly, “Soooo, that means Ambassador Lwaxanna Troi is your…? “

“Aunt,” said the counselor moodily.

The captain looked at Commander Troi intently.

“Thank you,” said the counselor softly.

“Huh?” said Trevor, “Did I miss something?”

The captain shook her head, “Pardon me, Trevor, I offered the commander my condolences telepathically and broke an unwritten rule to not to communicate telepathically when in the presence of non-telepaths, or empaths in the counselor’s case.”

“Actually,” said the commander softly, “I’m both, my Betazoid half amplifies my Vulcan telepathic abilities and my Vulcan half makes me a stronger empath.”

“Which makes you a perfect ship’s counselor” smiled the captain, “I won’t ask about your science officer abilities. I know Vulcans can do that in their sleep!”

“Oh, have you been a science officer?” the counselor’s eyes twinkled.

“Oh, no, I started out as a tactical officer,” the captain shook her head, “I followed in my mother’s path. The Vulcan part of us did thirst for knowledge, but the Klingon part of us thirsted for combat!”

“She was a Klingon/Vulcan?!? Both you and she must be formidable adversaries.”

The captain smiled broadly, “Absolutely, and the Romulan blood doesn’t hurt.”

“You must be a valuable ally and a dangerous enemy.”

“You’ve got that right,” said Trevor, “I’d have her in a bar room brawl any day!”

“A pity on anyone who would underestimate you, Captain McCoy,” Commander Troi nodded approvingly.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Commander,” smiled the captain, “Nevertheless, I think you would be a good fit for our crew. What do you think?” turning to her first officer.

“I’d say welcome aboard,” agreed Stevens.

“Then I accept, Captain McCoy.”

“You don’t want to know the nature of the mission?” asked the captain.

“The mission is not as important as the people with whom you serve and I believe we would all suit each other nicely, Captain.”

Commander Stevens’ stomach growled very audibly, “Um, sorry.”

“Why?” asked Commander Troi, “Clearly you are hungry.”

“Well then,” said the captain brightly, “I suggest we do lunch.”

“Do lunch?” asked the counselor, “How does one “do lunch?” I can see “eat” lunch, or “buy” lunch, but how would someone “do” lunch?”

The captain sighed and muttered softly, “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

The counselor raised an eyebrow at her and Commander Stevens began to softly chuckle.

“It’s not funny, Trevor,” the captain growled.

“Sure it is, Captain McCoy,” said Stevens, “I’ve always wanted to know what it would be like for you to meet someone like your great-grandfather.”

“And who would that be?” asked the counselor.

“Ambassador Spock,” said Stevens and his captain shot him a look, “Uh, oh, I got her Klingon up.”

With this, the counselor roared with laughter.

“Well,” said the captain, “Great-grandfather wouldn’t do that!”

“Tell, me,” the counselor continued to chuckle, “are you related to the real ‘Bones’ McCoy?”

“Why yes,” said the captain sternly, “He was my great-grandfather.”

The counselor immediately stopped laughing and said soberly, “My apologies, Captain, forgive me for my disrespect.”

“Do not worry, Counselor,” said the captain softly, “It just strikes me funny how history repeats itself. I am now the third McCoy to have a Spock-like person in his or her life, first my great-grandfather, then my father, now me.”

Stevens’ stomach growled again, even louder, “Hey guys, can we seriously eat something?”

“I don’t know,” said the captain, “can you eat seriously?”

“Nicely done, Captain!” said the counselor approvingly.

“I do have Spock’s blood!” she said smugly.

***

The three of them were headed to a small cafe when the captain spotted her chief medical officer, Doctor Altara, a small woman of only four feet, ten inches tall coming down the hallway. Her skin was pale green, her eyes ice blue, her hair white, her eyebrows upswept and her ears sharply pointed. The captain often thought she reminded her of the elves of human legend.

“Ah, Counselor,” said the captain, “There is my chief medical officer–”

“JAMES!” the doctor cried with delight, rushed forward to the counselor who deftly bent over to embrace the tiny woman.

“I guess you could call that the tall and the short of it,” smiled Stevens.

“Doctor,” the counselor smiled back, “It’s been ages. How have you been?”

“Wonderful,” said the doctor enthusiastically, “I’ve been having the time of my life aboard the Asimov. Life on a science vessel is never boring! Say, we just lost our science officer and our ship’s counselor. You should apply for a transfer. Captain, I knew the commander at Starfleet Medical when I was doing a psychiatric internship. He really knows his stuff about interspecies communication and of course–”

“Vulcans can do chief science officer in their sleep!” the women said together.

“Do you expect me to do my work sleep deprived?” the counselor winked.

“Not at all,” the captain smiled and pointed to the café, “I heard this place has wonderful food, including some Klingon specialties, but I won’t order gagh, I promise.”

“Don’t abstain on my account, Captain,” the counselor smirked, “You’re the one who has to eat it, not me.”

“Counselor,” said the captain, “I do believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

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