Bootiful...Like Green M&M&Ms

First Officer’s Personal Log
Stardate: 5013.2

The Enterprise is 272.22 Standard Earth days into our five year mission. Yesterday brought our first mission failure and a personal revelation.

No one is to blame for the failure to secure a signed treaty. No one except the residents of the planet Galcyla.

Starfleet had sent a complete mission briefing that included details about the governing body and the usual directives concerning the method in which the negotiations should be conducted.

The Captain, as is his custom, studied all of the briefings, discussing their content and the recommended approaches with the away team, which was comprised of the Captain, Lt. Sulu, Lt. Uhura, and myself. Starfleet recommended four officers beam down so that the Galcylans would fully comprehend the sincerity of our intent to negotiate but not be overwhelmed by our numbers.

Lt. Uhura studied in great detail their social customs and found nothing out of the ordinary to report. They were a race who took themselves very seriously, and the Captain was cautioned that his usual attempts at humor would need to be eliminated. Lt. Uhura reported that they were Humanoid in appearance, their average height mirroring that of Humans.

Feeling well prepared for the mission, we beamed down to be greeted by GaLisas, who identified himself as First Protectorate. GaLisas wore a floor-length black robe with gold edging, the high collar nearly obscuring his white face which was in stark contrast to his attire. His hair was also white and seemed to defy the gravity of the planet, standing up to add 21.6 cm to his height.

Those with him also wore black robes although they were unadorned. Their collars encircled their necks, the collars stopping just below their jaws. Lt. Uhura had reported that their collars were an indicator of social rank – the higher the collar stood, the higher their place in government and/or society.

The five ministers accompanying GaLisas had similar white complexions and hair that also defied gravity albeit to a lesser degree.

GaLisas greeted Captain Kirk with a small bow, which the Captain gracefully echoed. “Captain,” GaLisas said, looking only at him.

“First Protectorate,” the Captain responded, adding the other statements demanded by protocol. When the Captain turned to introduce those of us included in the landing party, GaLisas turned and strode toward the table where he indicted that the Captain should sit. We sat on the same side as the Captain, the Galcylans on the opposite side, all studying the Captain intently.

The Captain was offered drink and food, which he would have declined but knew to do so would be taken as an offense. We were offered no refreshment.

GaLisas asked the Captain the questions we often are asked when beginning a negotiation of this sort. The Captain answered with diplomacy and ease, assuring the First Protectorate that membership in the Federation would be beneficial to their planet and to the others already members. It would not mean a surrendering of sovereignty, only a strengthening through numbers.

The Galcylans were attentive to the Captain, asking relevant and appropriate questions. When they inquired about the possibility of having access to our language data banks, the Captain requested that Lt. Uhura respond, as this was her area of expertise.

“I was not addressing my question to any but you, Captain,” GaLisas told the Captain, abruptly interrupting the Lieutenant.

“I apologize, First Protectorate,” the Captain said. “She is much more knowledgeable in this area than I.”

GaLisas’ expression hardened and he barely glanced at the Lieutenant. “If you are unable to respond, we will ask again when you are better informed.”

The Captain looked as though they had struck him but he answered evenly. “Very well. I will research the information and provide it to you.”

“What of your botany, Captain?” one of the ministers asked. “Our harvests have been diminishing. We theorize that an influx of viable crops will help maintain our self-sufficiency.”

“Lt. Sulu?” the Captain said.

“You do not know, Captain?” GaLisas asked, staring at the Captain.

“I am not a botanist,” the Captain said, never breaking eye contact with GaLisas.

GaLisas looked at his ministers, all of whom were frowning. “You seem particularly ill-informed.”

The Captain looked over at me, uncertain what the appropriate response would be. When I began to explain that he in fact was very well informed and surrounded by officers even better prepared to discuss their needs, GaLisas likewise interrupted me.

“I was not addressing you nor am I interested in your postulations,” he said to me in clear dismissal.

The Captain stared at GaLisas and I could see the color creeping up his face. I had seen this reaction only three times before. None of those situations ended particularly well for the other parties. “You will not speak to my First Officer nor any of my officers in that manner,” the Captain finally said in a very even tone.

“You are in no position to dictate our actions, Captain,” GaLisas returned.

“I am in a position to leave and recommend that Starfleet never come near your planet again,” the Captain pointed out.

“I will not be admonished by you, Captain. Not when you allow your crew to be vitiated.”

“Vitiated? In what way have I allowed my crew to be debased, sir? We are the finest in all of Starfleet,” the Captain said, some of his understandable indignation coming through.

“Yours is the finest crew?” he asked in disbelief, glancing in dismissal at me, Lt. Sulu and Lt. Uhura.

“We are. Your contempt is entirely unreasonable,” the Captain told him as he became increasingly less diplomatic.

“I do not comprehend how you can claim that your crew is the finest when they include misshapen eyes, overly-browned skin, and atrociously pointed ears and slanted eyebrows,” the First Protectorate said, looking directly at each of us as he named our perceived imperfections.

“I beg your pardon?” the Captain said slowly and distinctly.

“You are the only appropriate specimen of you Humans,” GaLisas informed him. “Your appearance conforms to that which we deem conventional and acceptable.”

“My appearance,” the Captain said in clear disbelief. “You won’t listen to Lt. Uhura because she has brown skin. You ignore Lt. Sulu because he has almond shaped eyes. And you insult Lt. Commander Spock because he has traditional Vulcan features.”

“They are…aberrations.”

The Captain inhaled sharply, taking his communicator out of his pocket. “Enterprise. Four to beam up.”

“Sir?” Scotty’s unmistakable voice said in confusion.

“Four to beam up, Mr. Scott. Immediately.”

“Aye sir,” Mr. Scott agreed. We were caught in the transporter beam and deposited safely on the Enterprise.

The Captain looked at us with what I could only describe as misery and anger. “I am so sorry. We should have never gone down there.”

“You aren’t to blame,” Sulu rushed to assure him.

“I’m sorry, Jim. I didn’t see anything about them being so…irrational,” Nyota told Jim quietly, one hand on his arm in a gesture of comfort.

“I am to blame,” Jim said, shaking his head. “I should never allow any of you to be subjected to that sort of ignorant prejudice.”

“It is ignorance,” I added. “I am not insulted by their regrettable narrow-mindedness.”

“Me neither,” Sulu added. “We couldn’t have known. It wasn’t in any of the briefings.”

“I should have known,” the Captain said. “As soon as they didn’t offer you anything to eat or drink, we should have left.”

“We’ve seen stranger customs, Jim. What about the Delusians that insisted on washing our hands and feet before they would talk to us?” Sulu said with a laugh.

“Or the Alrgrians who wanted to dye my hair green,” Uhura added, also laughing.

“They did not insult three of the finest officers in Starfleet,” Jim said, shaking his head.

“What’s wrong?” Dr. McCoy said as he rushed into the transporter room. “Who’s hurt? What’s Jim done now?”

“We’re fine, Bones. Physically at least,” Jim said, holding up one hand. He gave a brief explanation of what happened, the Doctor as angry as Jim had been.

“What a bunch of ignorant, half-baked ignoramuses,” he said.

“Are ignoramuses by definition not ignorant?” I asked, knowing it would make the Captain laugh and the Doctor call me a name, in this instance being simply hobgoblin.

“I have to tell Pike,” Jim said with a sigh.

“Come to my office. I’ve got some liquid courage. Then you can call him,” Bones said. “Come on, you hobgoblin. You’ll need to be there when he calls Pike.”

I nodded and after remaining behind in order to ensure that Nyota and Hikaru were not feeling any negative repercussions, dismissed them from duty and made my way to sickbay.

“It’s not your fault, kid. You know that,” Leonard was saying as he refilled Jim’s glass.

“I know it’s not. Not really. But it feels like it is. We haven’t screwed up a mission yet. What if the Admiralty blames me? What if they take the Enterprise?”

“Now Jim,” Leonard said, leaning back in his chair after I had taken a seat. “How many successful missions have you lead?”

Jim shrugged and drank more of the Doctor’s finest bourbon.

“Sixteen successful first contacts. Twenty successful negotiations for planets to join the Federation. And three wars have been ceased due to your diplomatic skills,” I told Jim.

“Really?” Jim asked. “I mean. I know you know. But I guess I didn’t think it was that many. So one screw-up isn’t so bad, right? I mean, Pike’ll at least understand, right?”

“Of course he will, Jim. You got nothing to worry about. You did the right thing. The Federation is built on inclusion. Not prejudice because Sulu has almond eyes and Nyota has beautiful, soft, warm brown skin.”

“Beautiful, soft, warm is it?” Jim asked with a smile.

Leonard responded with a snort, pouring them both more bourbon. “You’re okay, right? I mean you pretend you don’t feel it but I know better,” he said to me.

“I am unaffected by the prejudice of the Galcylans. They are an ignorant and unfortunate race.”

“That’s for sure,” Jim agreed, drinking the rest of his bourbon and refilling his glass. “I don’t have white hair. Not yet. Why did they think I was normal?”

“Because they don’t really know you,” Leonard informed him.

“Thanks. Who made First Contact? They couldn’t have all conformed to those ignorant Galcylan’s version of ‘normal’ could they? I mean, we’re like M&Ms. All colors and varieties.”

“I am uncertain of the initial contact,” I admitted. “I will research that information.”

“’Kay. Not right now.

“Not right now,” I agreed, accepting a glass of water from Dr. McCoy. In an obvious attempt to cheer up Jim, Leonard recounted some of the more unusual missions in which we had participated. With his encouragement, I added my recollections to his, Jim laughing and also reminiscing about other missions.

“How ‘bout those tiny bear guys?” Jim said with a laugh. “What’s they called? You know, Spock. The ones that were lookin’ like Ewoks.”

“The LövVerkens,” I supplied to his nods.

“Yeah yeah. That was them. Ewoks. They fed us and fed us. I thought I was goin’ pop before we got beamed up,” he said, looking in his empty glass. “Give me some more.”

“I think you’ve had plenty,” Leonard told him.

“Nope. Not yet I’m not. I need somemores.”

“S’mores?” Leonard asked with a laugh.

“Mmm…s’mores. Chocolate. Mashmellows. Mmm... but since we got none s’mores, give me s’more. Please,” he added, holding his glass to Leonard. The Doctor looked at me and gave in, pouring more into Jim’s glass.

“This the last of it, Jim,” Leonard told him.

“No’s not. You got smore in your cabinet. Under g for ‘good stuffs.’”

“How many times have I told you to stop snooping in my cabinets?”

“Don’t know. Is not stoopin’. I’m Captain. Captain’s gotta know stuff. And things. What’s going on. You know. On my ships. And stuff,” Jim said.

“Being Captain does not give you free rein,” Leonard told him.

“Uh huh. Does so too. Tell im Pock. Tell im I’s got reins.”

“I prefer to remain apart from this argument,” I responded, making Leonard laugh.

“Good idea,” he agreed. “Help this drunken infant to his quarters.”

“I’m not so think as you drunk I am,” the Captain said with great indignation. As great as it could be when his elbow kept sliding off the edge of the Doctor’s desk. “What’s wrong wif your desk, huh? Slippin slidin.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my desk. You’re sloshed.”

“Nuh huh,” Jim responded. “Itty bitty tipsy maybe. S’all.”

“Sure,” Leonard said, trying to haul him to his feet. “Upsy daisy.”

“We don’t have basisies, Dones. We’re a flyin ship. Flyin flyin,” Jim said, standing unsteadily beside Leonard’s desk. “Ooohhh….titltin ship. Tiltin tiltin.”

Leonard shook his head and started guiding him toward the exit until the intercom halted his efforts. “McCoy here.”

“I have Admiral Pike for Captain Kirk, sir,” Lt. Akia informed him.

“Great,” Leonard said, looking at me in some dismay. “Just great.”

“Should I send him through, sir?” the Lieutenant asked in some confusion.

“Chris? Chris’s callin to me?” Jim asked in excitement.

“Yeah. And we’ll be lucky if we don’t all end up in the brig,” Leonard said, guiding Jim back to his chair and turning his monitor toward the Captain. “Okay, Akia. Send him down.”

“Yes sir,” Lt. Akia said, fading away to be replaced by Admiral Pike.

“Chrissss,” Jim said happily. “Hey ya Chris. What cha doin’?”

“I am trying to figure out the same thing,” the Admiral said, attempting to contain his laughter, much to our relief.

“You don know what cha doin?” Jim asked, staring at him as though trying to figure it out on his behalf.

“I’m trying to figure out what you are doing, Jim,” Pike corrected.

“Me? I’m…uhm…what am I doin?” Jim asked me in a loud whisper.

“We were discussing the recently concluded mission to Galcyla,” I supplied.

“Yeah. Oh yeah. We were talkin’, Chris. Bout the Ga-lacys,” Jim agreed. “They’re meanies.”

“They are?” Chris asked.

“Uh huh. Called Pock ugly. And said Karu’s got mistaken eyes. Called em…uhm… pecans?”

“Almonds,” I corrected. “And you were the one who said they are almond shaped.”

“That’s not helpful,” McCoy told me.

“Yeah yeah. They didn like Pock’s ears. And said Nota was burnt. She’s not burnt. She’s perfect.”

“Yes she is,” Chris agreed. “Spock, what did they say exactly?”

“Yeah yeah Pock, you tell im. You member evvvveryfing ever. Tell im, Pock.”

I recounted what the Galcylans had said, the Admiral understandably annoyed that their prejudice had dishonored us.

“We don wanna go there back again, kay, Chris? They fink Pock’s trocious. And Nota. She’s so so pretty. Why didna they know that, Chris? Why?” Jim asked in dismay.

“I was not aware of their narrow-mindedness or their prejudices. We’ll declare them off limits until they decide to see things more clearly.”

“Yeah yeah. Off-limits em. That’ll show teach em. Meanies.”

“Jim,” Chris said as evenly and firmly as he could manage. “I think it’s time for you to go to bed.”

“Oh. Bed. When’s Captains bein in bed time?” Jim asked Chris. Fortunately, Leonard and I had confessed that we had used telling the Admiral as a ploy to get the Captain into bed on the previous occasion when he had over-imbibed.

“In half an hour, isn’t it Commander?” Pike asked me.

“Yes, Admiral. That is my understanding.”

“Right right half hour. Stime now Pock?”

“It is 21:43,” I responded, adding several hours to the actual time to reduce the possibility of him protesting.

“Kay. So whens it Captains bein in bed time?”

“22:13,” I responded.

“Kay kay. Goin now Chris. Goin. No yellin kay? Kay Chris?” Jim said to the Admiral.

“No yelling, Jim. Go with Spock. He’ll make sure you get in bed on time,” Chris assured him. “You’ll report to me when he’s safely tucked in?”

“Of course Admiral,” I agreed, helping Jim to his feet and out of the Doctor’s office.

“Slow up down, Pock,” Jim requested.

“I apologize,” I responded, slowing my steps but not releasing my grasp on his arm.

“Hows it slow ups same as slow downs?”

“I have no answer for that,” I said.

“Kay kay. You goin ask Nota? She’ll know right? She’s smart. And pretty. Bones says so too.”

“Yes he does.”

“I saw em kissin,” he said to me in an overly loud whisper. “Kissin kissin.”

“Where?” I asked although I cannot imagine why.

“On the mouf. Bof of em.”

“I meant where were they when you witnessed this exchange?”

“They were changin on the observatorium.”

“I see,” I responded, steering him clear of an unfortunate yeoman who was standing in the corridor, mouth agape. “As you were.”

“Were what, Pock? What were I?”

“I was speaking to the yeoman,” I explained as I opened his door.

“Oh. Right right. Chris s’not mad, right?” he asked as we made our way to his sleeping area.

“Of course not.”

“Kay right. Right. You tell im I got here before Captains bein in bed time?” he asked as he stretched out on his bed.

“Certainly. Remove your uniform while I get your night clothes,” I instructed.

“Nope,” he said with a sigh. “Nopey noppers.”

“You cannot sleep in your uniform,” I told him, sitting on the edge of his bed with his pajamas.

“Can,” he said, opening one eye to look up at me. “The Ga-lacys were wrong Pock.”

“They were,” I agreed, pulling his shirt up over his unresisting arms.

“You’re aren’t trocious. You’re boo-tiful. Boo-tifully boo-tiful.”

“Thank you,” I responded as I helped him lay back down.

“Boo-tiful. Smart. Boo-tiful. Nice. Funny.”

“Thank you,” I repeated as I pulled the covers over him.

“I like you, Pock.”

“I like you, Jim.”

“A lot. A lot a lot. More’n friends a lot,” he said, his eyes closing by themselves.

“You do?” I heard myself ask.

“Uh huh. I wish we were changing in the observatorium like Nones and Byota,” he told me.

“You wish to kiss me?”

“Uh huh. Wanna kiss me. You. Kiss your boo-tiful lips. Lick your boo-tiful ears. See all your boo-tiful skins. S’okay?”

“It is okay,” I said although I was surprised. Not unpleasantly surprised but surprised none-the-less. And I wondered if he would remember saying those things once he woke.

“Would you? Pock? Would you wanna kiss me also too?” he asked.

“I would,” I said certain of the answer although I had never before considered it. Now that he had said it, I found I could consider little else than the idea of kissing him, all of him. And receiving his kisses in return. The idea was…agreeable. Very agreeable.

“Pock?”

“Yes Jim. I’m still here.”

“I sorry they were such meanies. I like M&M&M&Ms. Specially green ones. Green. Like you. Yep. Green,” he said.

“You like all the colors,” I told him.

“Yeppers. Greens bestest. Bestest of all. They shouldn be meanies to M&M&Ms. ‘M sorry they aren’t likin ems.”

“I know you are. But you are not to blame,” I assured him.

“Kay. Chrisss not blamin right?”

“No he is not.”

“Right right. You stayin till mornin time, right?”

“I will stay. You do not need to worry about me leaving you,” I said.

“Kay right. I love you Pock. That kay?”

“It is very much okay,” I told him, my fingers running through his hair as he drifted off to sleep, content with my presence and my promises that I would remain until morning.