First Inning

INDIANS SLAUGHTER BISON

CLEVELAND: In a rare display of ineffectiveness in every aspect of their game, the Everston Bison fell to the Cleveland Indians 23-3. The NL Central leading Bison committed four errors, including two by first-time All Star shortstop Pavel Chekov. The woeful fielding of the usually dependable Bison only added to the misery of the unheard sloppy starting pitching of ace Jason Matherson. In a surprise move, Manager Chris Pike called in closer Jim Kirk in the 8^th to mop up, only to have the Indians bat around in their half of the inning. A game every Bison and Bison fan will want to soon forget.

________________________________________________________

“What are you doing?” Jim demanded. “I’m having a fucking meltdown and you’re playing Tetris on your fucking iPhone.”

“You are having a tantrum not a meltdown. I’ve been the unfortunate witness to both enough times to know the difference,” McCoy responded in his leisurely Southern way. “And it’s an Android - like that character on the stupid sci-fi show you make me watch.”

“The Next Generation is NOT a stupid show. And why are you ignoring me when I’m trying to tell you that I’m going to melt down?”

“It is stupid. You are mad because he pulled you while you were being slaughtered.”

“You’re my best friend. You should be mad too, dammit,” Jim retorted.

“I am not your best friend. I’m some random guy stuck listening to your mad ramblings about the unfairness of the world in general and your place in it in particular,” McCoy said, a great deal more of his concentration on his game of Tetris than Jim’s indignation that the world continually failed to respond precisely the way he thought it ought. It wasn’t as though Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy hadn’t had the misfortunate of hearing it all before. It was an all too frequent occurrence and Bones did wonder briefly why he didn’t find a different seat on the bus. He wasn’t forced to sit on the last seat with Jim. He always did but he thought that was his choice. Maybe it really wasn’t. Maybe it was some all-consuming evil on chartered Greyhounds that drew him to the back where Jim inevitably sat.

A dozen random players clumped like overdone rice just in front of them, waiting for an inkling of acknowledgment that they were worthy of being included in Jim’s latest tirade. It wasn’t so much that Jim didn’t consider them worthy; he simply didn’t bother to consider them at all. That was his prerogative as the team’s closer. He was different, unique, untouchable except with those he anointed as permissible to be in his confidence. Hikaru was in by virtue of being Jim’s catcher. Larry “Cupcake” McGintry was the team’s number one catcher but Jim hated him. Most of the pitchers did but management was immune to their complaints. Jim refused to pitch to Cupcake unless Hikaru was too sick or too injured to catch for him. Generally if Karu was unavailable it was because he’d spent too much time out the night before with Pavel “Babyface” Chekov, child prodigy and the best shortstop anyone could remember since the glory days of Ozzie Smith. Hikaru was supposed to watch Babyface but mostly he facilitated his excesses - which of course drove management batshit crazy but Hikaru hid behind Jim so he was spared the worst of the retribution. ‘Pav’s 18,’ Jim inevitably told them. ‘It’s his choice. Stop blaming Hikaru.’

“Dude,” the same Hikaru said to Jim and Bones, kneeling backward in his seat to look at them over the head rest. “Says here they finally hired a new GM. What do you know ‘bout it?”

“About damn time,” Bones said, barely looking up from his game.

“Who is it this time?” Jim asked though it was clear he could not possibly have cared less, any more than he cared about the persistent rumors that he was the main reason the last two GMs had fled the front office. Totally not true was Jim’s standing response when nosey reporters inquired about it.

“A Vulcan,” Hikaru said, laughing at Jim’s expression. “Name’s Spock. You know him?”

“No,” Jim said, standing up. “Hey Skip.”

“Yes Jim,” Chris Pike called back, not bothering to turn around. He was deep in conversation with Montgomery Scotty, batting coach and team caterer. That last part was unofficial but all of the players knew that as long as Scotty was part of the coaching staff, they would never go hungry.

“Karu says the front office hired a Vulcan.”

That caused an unnatural quiet on the bus as everyone waited for Chris’ response.

“That’s what I heard,” Chris said in an off-hand manner. “Komack thinks it will help keep you smart-asses in line.”

“Not likely,” Jim called back, dropping into his seat. “What’s it say about him?”

“Uhmm… oh lord. He has an MBA from Harvard and an advanced degree from the Vulcan Science Academy,” Hikaru reported.

“In vhat?” Pavel asked, leaning closer to his boyfriend to see his iPhone display. Like he needed an excuse.

“Doesn’t say. What the fuck does he know about baseball?” Hikaru asked no one in particular.

“Karu. Don’t be saying the f-word,” Pavel chastised quietly.

“You’re in the bigs now, Pav,” Jim responded. “You got to learn to talk like it.”

“Nyet,” Pavel said, shaking his head and making his blond curls bounce. “My grandmother will be washing out my mouth with the soup.”

“Soap, Pav. Not soup.”

“Da,” Pavel agreed, smiling just for Hikaru.

Hikaru kissed him, the only response either of them needed. That drew ooohs and aaahs from some of the other players.  Hikaru flipped them the bird.

“Better not, Karu,” Jason teased. “Pavel’s grandmother will be washing your hands in soup.”

“Shut up,” Hikaru retorted, no heat in the words. The team was in a surprisingly jovial mood, considering they’d just had their lunch handed to them. Because despite what Jim had claimed to Bones, he was okay with what had happened to them on the field. He didn’t like it but they all knew that laugher games were inevitable. Every team went through them and if they didn’t tear the team apart, it brought them closer. Between Chris, Scotty, and Jim, this disastrous outing would be a positive. They were still eight games ahead in their division and the All-Star break was behind them. Nothing would slow their run to the World Series now.

Second Inning

EVERSTON BISON FINALLY SIGN NEW GENERAL MANAGER

EVERSTON: The front office of the NL Central leading Everston Bison announced today that they had hired Spock of Clan Shi'Kahr to be the latest General Manager of the team. Spock is well known in business circles for his logical approach to management but this reporter wonders how that will translate into managing a baseball team. Will business acumen help keep the rowdy Bison in line?

When asked about the decision, James Komack responded that the citizens of Everston owned the team and they had the final say. “We put the hiring of Spock to a vote of the shareholders. And they approved it virtually unanimously.”

Closer Jim Kirk, when reached via phone, said he welcomed the new presence in the front office and didn’t know what the GM had to do with how they played. “As long as they continue to sign the best players, we got no beef with the front office.” Kirk also denied he was the reason that the three most recent GMs had resigned. He further denied that there was any substance to the rumor that the Bison lost so handily to the Indians because the news of the hiring was an on-field distraction. “We didn’t know anything about it until we were on our way back to the hotel,” Kirk said.

___________________________________________________________

Jim was on his way to meet with Nyota Uhura in the Bison front office although he thought calling it the “front” office was a misnomer considering it was in the back of the outfield but who was he to try to intervene in centuries of baseball tradition? He had been summoned by the travel secretary slash team spokesperson slash high school principal to discuss yet again his inappropriate language when addressing the press. Like anyone was surprised when he dropped the f-bomb. Really? He was a major leaguer. He’d lose all respect of his teammates and opponents if he didn’t walk the talk as one of his minor league managers had always insisted on saying. Jim had attempted several times to correct him but it was hopeless so Jim finally gave up. ‘You’d think he’d have listened to someone with their Master’s in English but nooooo….’ Jim told Bones on more than one occasion.

Jim was just getting on the elevator to go to the top floor of the converted warehouse and distribution center that formed the right outfield wall and held all of the team offices and the souvenir (and bait) shop – okay they didn’t really sell bait but it made the team laugh to claim it did and nothing management said would stop them from calling it the souvenir and bait shop. And yeah, it may have been Jim’s idea to start calling it that but it was entrenched now and nothing short of dynamite would remove it.

Jim automatically held the door open at the approach of a cortege led by a severe looking Vulcan woman whose non-expression plainly spoke of her dismay and disdain for being anywhere as common as a baseball stadium. Behind her was a tall Vulcan man who looked all business and wore a custom suit that showed the lines of his lithe body to perfection. He was on his phone, speaking quietly in Vulcan, apparently talking to his mother from the few words Jim was able to overhear. He was followed by three younger Vulcans barely out of their teens who seemed surprisingly anxious that they were in some way failing to live up to expectations. But what expectations could anyone have for crossing a mezzanine on the way to an elevator? And to Jim’s considerable not-shock, behind the Vulcan retinue was a gaggle of reporters, texting furiously on their phones and looking compulsively stupid doing it.

“Hello,” Jim said secretly pleased with himself when the Vulcan woman most assuredly did not frown at him. “Going my way?”

She stared unblinking at him, displeasure oozing from every polished and buffed pore. “Eleventh floor,” she ordered. Did she think elevators still had attendants? And did she believe Jim to be one? In jeans and an orange polo?

“My pleasure,” he said with a wide smile knowing it would annoy her all the more. He turned his bright blue gaze on the center of attention, thinking uselessly that he was quite possibly the most attractive being he’d ever seen. Ever. “Should we take the press corps or leave them behind?”

“They are not welcome,” the tall Vulcan said in a commanding voice.

“Sorry guys. Maybe next time,” Jim said, pressing the ‘door close’ button which really didn’t make the doors move any faster but did give those on the elevator a sense of empowerment to believe they had that much control over the mechanical closet in which they were entrusting their lives.

The press guys were shouting questions even as the doors slid closed, Jim unable to prevent a look of satisfaction from taking over his face. As they were not issued the identification cards required to take the elevator to the top floor, those employed by the Bison were safe from their inquisitiveness until they descended.

“You are James Kirk,” the tall Vulcan informed him.

“I am?” Jim asked, his blue eyes blinking in supposed innocence.

“Indeed,” he responded.

“And you are Mr. Spock,” Jim replied, fairly sure he was correct even before the same Mr. Spock nodded.

“I am,” Mr. Spock agreed.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Jim said.

“This is general headquarters of the Everston Bison,” the stern Vulcan woman corrected him.

“Seriously?” Jim asked in exaggerated surprise. “Well. This has been a very educational elevator ride. I learned who I am and where I am. Is one of the apprentices going to tell me what my job is? Or maybe who the Bison are?”

“You are as impertinent as I have heard,” Mr. Spock said, surprising Jim with his mild tone. Jim would have expected some carefully disguised anger or possibly exasperation. But Spock seemed to be taking it all in Vulcan stride.

“Yep,” Jim agreed. “Which is no doubt why I’m being summoned once again to Uhura’s office. For yet another lecture on proper interview decorum and/or what is and is not appropriate language.”

“Perhaps tempering your language would be in your best interest,” the Vulcan woman said while looking down her imperial nose at Jim which was quite a feat as he was at least half a foot taller than she was.

“Perhaps, Miss…?”

“T’Pring,” she supplied reluctantly.

“Ah – of course. Well, Miss T’Pring, I’ve refused to listen to the first 31 lectures Uhura has provided me. And unless you plan to make me sit in the corner until I promise to reform, I seriously doubt lecture #32 is going to make any more of a difference.” Jim was leaning against the wall of the elevator as he spoke, his hands deep in the pocket of his well-worn jeans, his words not carrying the weight of anger or sarcasm with them. They sounded conversational and altogether pleasant. And T’Pring did not know what to make of him, nor did the apprentices. Mr. Spock, however, seemed nearly amused by the rebuff of his permanent assistant slash press secretary slash possible girlfriend although Jim thought it was a shame if a fine specimen like Spock was settling for the Ice Bitch of Vulcan.

“A certain amount of leeway is permissible, Mr. Kirk,” Spock said with barely disguised amusement. “However there are words which while suitable for the lockeroom would be best excised from public discourse.”

“So I’ve been told,” Jim laughed as the elevator doors opened to allow its passengers to escape. Jim preceded down the concrete walkway toward Uhura’s office, the Vulcan entourage going the opposite direction, the weight of their gaze on his back as he entered her office.

“You are 20 minutes late,” Uhura said by way of greeting. She looked disappointed or angry or, most likely, exasperated.

“Sorry, darlin’. Lost track of time,” Jim claimed with a wink.

“I am not now nor have I ever been your darling,” she reminded him. But there was no heat to the words and she forgave him when he lightly kissed her on the cheek. “Fine. Sit down,” she instructed, waving at the chairs in front of the huge picture window that provided a spectacular view of the baseball diamond.

“Guess who I rode up on the elevator with,” Jim said, watching her move gracefully around her office, gathering her ever-present clipboard and her dark red fountain pen, the one that looked as though it could have been made from the dried blood of those who dared ignore her, Jim being one of the few exceptions in that category.

“I shudder to think. She’s not pregnant now is she?” she asked as she sat in the armchair just across the low coffee table from him. Once settled, she crossed one elegantly clad leg over the other, the silk pants and top she wore the perfect shade of red to compliment her flawless complexion, the v-neck providing the promise of cleavage but not delivering.

“How you wound me. Actually, it was Mr. Spock and his ducklings,” Jim said, laughing at the dismay his words caused.

“He’s here? He showed up without any warning?” she asked, the first time he’d ever seen her flustered.

“Apparently,” Jim said, watching her in amusement. “It’s his job now. Have you not met him?”

“Of course I’ve met him. He interviewed all of the front office staff to make sure we were ‘being fully utilized to the best of our abilities’,” she quoted.

“Sounds like so much MBA horseshit to me,” Jim told her.

“It would to you,” she retorted making it only soundly vaguely like an insult.

“Then why are you so nervous? You are never nervous,” he said with a laugh.

“Shut up. Did he go to his office? Was T’Pring with him? Where is Komack?”

“Okay. Yes. Yes. I have no idea,” Jim responded, the amused, indulgent expression still on his face. She frowned even more at him before going to the door to her office. “Are you leaving me already? Without even a kiss good-bye?”

“Shut up. Or better yet come with me,” she decided, waiting for him.

“I live to serve,” he claimed, following her out.

“No you don’t. You live to put me in an early grave,” she told him, looping her left hand through the curve of his right elbow. “Please stop saying fuck with such alarming frequency.”

“Sleep with me and I will,” he bargained.

“Why are you such a pig?”

“I’m a charming pig. You have to give me that,” he said, kissing the side of her head.

“Will you stop, please? I’m going to start fining you if you don’t.”

“Can you do that?” he asked.

“I can. I checked with Sam. He’s agreed to write me the checks. And they’ll go to the Baseball Charities.”

“Then I’ll be a hero,” he pointed out.

“Anonymously.”

“Then I’ll be a poor, anonymous hero. One with no brother because I’ll have to have him killed.”

“Winona would never forgive you, and I know that my wrath doesn’t scare you one tenth as much as hers,” she told him, not above using his mother to get what she wanted. Not that Jim didn’t love his mother because he did. It was also a poorly kept secret that Jim was only slightly less than terrified of her. But who could blame him?

“That’s cheating, you know,” he told her lightly as they arrived at the outer office that read General Manager on the milky glass door. “You putting his name on it this time?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “If he lasts longer than six months.”

“Seems fair,” he had to agree as he opened the door for her. One of the three nameless apprentices was stationed at the desk, standing as they entered.

“Ms Uhura. Mr. Kirk,” he said evenly although Jim thought he viewed their arrival as equivalent to signing his pink slip.

“I came to properly welcome Mr. Spock,” Uhura said smoothly, all good manners and gracious charm.

“Yes, I see,” the Vulcan responded with an uncertain nod. “I will inform him of your arrival.”

“I appreciate it, Mr.….?”

“T’el'tav,” he supplied. “I will return momentarily.”

Jim and Uhura nodded, watching him slip silently into the inner sanctum. “What are you going to say to him?” Jim asked into her ear, his tone seductive even as his words were all business.

“That his first order of business needs to be to fire you,” she claimed.

“Hmmm…,” Jim responded, pretending to consider it. “Bones will quit. And Hikaru most likely. And don’t I have to be sold not fired?”

“Traded, and exceptions can be made,” she warned him, plastering on a smile when T’el’tav returned.

“Mr. Spock is occupied. He asked that I inform you that he will come to your office in 10 minutes.”

“Very well,” Uhura agreed. “Thank you.”

T’el’tav nodded, watching until they left the office, closing the door behind them.

“You know I have to be downstairs in 20 minutes,” Jim reminded her.

“If you hadn’t been late for our appointment, we’d be done by now,” she pointed out, dragging him back into a straight line when he attempted to veer off toward the coffee shoppe located on the floor for the convenience of the staff. “You drink coffee now and Leonard will have both our hides.”

Jim shrugged, complacently following her back into her office. “Why don’t you have minions? You need minions.”

“I don’t need minions. They would just slow me down.”

“Or Komack is too cheap to give them to you.”

“I am the employee of the good citizens of Everston,” she reminded him as they settled back in the chairs they had only briefly occupied.

“Then ask the good citizens. All you have to do is smile at them and they’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Shut up,” she scolded mildly before turning her considerable focus to her clipboard. “Tuesday. Greet and meet at Stoney’s Tires.”

“No,” Jim replied.

“Thursday. Meet and greet at Buster’s Big Games.”

“No.”

“Sunday. Autographs at Pop Warner finals in Tinkerton.”

“Okay. When are you going to say yes to Bones?”

“Any relationship I may or may not have with Dr. McCoy is not your concern,” she said in the exact same professional tone she had used to inform him of his appearances.

“Except he’s my best friend. And I only want him to be happy. Finally.”

“If you’d leave him alone, he’d be happy. If you got your own apartment, he’d be happy.”

“He’d be even more miserable. Lonely and miserable. If you aren’t going to go out with him, go out with me,” he said.

“Sure.”

“Good. When?”

“Never? Is never good with you?” she asked, engaging in their familiar routine, one that always ended the same. “Really? No to Stoney’s and Buster’s?”

“Let Hikaru do Stoney’s. And I know Cupcake would love to be at Buster’s. It’s just his maturity level.”

“This feud has gone on long enough,” she said in exasperation. “The reporters are all over it. Quit making him out to be some sort of Neanderthal.”

“I just call ‘em as I see ‘em, darlin’. And he couldn’t call a game with flash cards and neon signs.”

“Jason doesn’t seem to have a problem with him,” Uhura pointed out with exaggerated sweetness in her tone.

“Jason could pitch to a blind man. I could catch for him and he’d strike out more than he’d allow a hit.”

“Doesn’t matter. Stop using the f-word and stop feuding with Cupcake. I mean Larry.”

He sighed, pouting at her. “You spoil all of my fun. You know that, right?”

“Would you please grow up? I’ve already told Chris that you aren’t allowed to do any more interviews unless he is right there. And I’ve given him permission to slug you every time you step out of line.”

“You have the authority to do that?” he asked with a laugh.

“You don’t want to find out, do you?” she asked way too sweetly, batting her eyelashes at him. “And the next time you use it, I will call Winona.”

“Don’t you think the senior Senator from the great state of Iowa has far more important concerns than what her youngest son may or may not say while being interviewed?” Jim asked reasonably. “And what if the rumors are true and she does run for President? Will you still call her to rat me out?”

“Is she going to run?” Uhura asked ideally as she flipped through the papers on her clipboard.

“Sam said maybe. She wants to be President. She just doesn’t want to run for President,” Jim said.

“I can certainly understand that,” Uhura agreed.

“If she does, are you going to accept her job offer?” Jim asked.

“Maybe. It will get me away from the likes of you,” she claimed.

“I’m her son.”

“And the Secret Service wouldn’t let you within 100 yards of her,” Uhura told him sternly.

“That seems a little harsh,” he said with a charming smile.

“Okay. 50 yards,” she said, making him laugh. They both automatically stood up when Mr. Spock knocked quietly and entered her office. “Hello.”

“Ms Uhura. Mr. Kirk,” he said in acknowledgement. “In what way may I be of assistance?”

“I was coming to welcome you,” Uhura told him with a warm smile. “And to remind you if there’s anything you need, all you have to do is let me know.”

“I will remember,” Mr. Spock agreed. “Are you not expected downstairs?” he asked Jim not unkindly.

“Yeah. Nyota distracts me,” Jim claimed, winking at her. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“You most certainly will. Especially if you don’t heed my warning,” she scolded.

“I’ll try. Mr. Spock,” he said, leaving her office after a last inappropriate wink.

“Is he always like this?” Mr. Spock asked Uhura.

“With Jim Kirk, what you see is what you get. No pretense. No hidden agenda. Just don’t underestimate how smart he is.”

“I have heard he is a genius,” Mr. Spock agreed.

“He is,” Uhura confirmed. “Would you like to have a seat? Do you have time?”

“I would and I do,” he said as he folded himself into one of the upholstery chairs. “Your office is a reflection of you,” he said, glancing around at the decidedly feminine touches she had incorporated.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” she asked lightly, very much hoping he wasn’t going to insist she make arbitrary and unnecessary changes as several of his predecessors had.

“A good thing. It mirrors your charm and beauty.”

“Oh,” she said, catching her breath. “Thank you.”

He nodded to accept her thanks, asking what her agenda was for the next few days, more to get a feel for the day-to-day operations than in any doubt that she wasn’t handling her responsibilities appropriately.

“Will you be going on the west coast road trip?” she asked while they were discussing the up-coming schedule.

“For part of the time,” Spock said. “I will fly out with them then return 8 days in - before they go on to San Diego.”

“I can make those arrangements or your office can,” she said, a question implied.

“I leave it to you. That is the most efficient way to conduct our business.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “The press has been anxious to meet with you. I have stalled them for as long as we dare. They will begin to believe we are up to no good if you don’t schedule a news conference soon.”

“We can meet with them tomorrow. At 6:45 in the evening.”

“It’s best to meet with them earlier, sir. They need time to write up their stories well before the game starts. Otherwise they will feel like we are stonewalling.”

“Yes,” Spock said, considering it. “That is logical. What time is appropriate?”

“The latest we should schedule it is 3:45.”

“I leave it to you then. Let me know what time and I will be here. You will accompany me.”

“Of course,” she agreed. “Do you have my cell phone number?”

“I do. I do not, however, have the number of your assistant,” he said.

“That’s because there isn’t one.”

“You have no assistant?” he asked in need of confirmation.

“I don’t. I never have.”

He studied her silently for several moments until one eyebrow raised to nearly impossible heights. “Is that the choice of the team or your personal decision?”

“Uhm…” she stopped and cleared her throat, glancing down at her clipboard. “I understood that there were no funds available to provide this office an assistant.”

“Have you been given an opportunity to review the revenue and expense statements?” Spock asked.

“No sir. Although I guess I could have if I had wanted to. Since the citizens own the team. But Komack manages to keep that information fairly well hidden.”

“As I have heard. One of my mandates has been to change the reporting to the owners. All 108,342 of them.”

“I hope you don’t plan to meet with each one individually,” she said with a light laugh.

“Perhaps. If I am fortunate enough to remain in this position long enough to do so,” he replied with a degree of humor in his voice she very much appreciated.

“That would be a nice change of pace,” she said.

“Between you and I, and off the record, why has the team had such difficulty in retaining anyone in my position?” Spock asked her.

“Off the record? No boomerangs or retributions?”

“None,” he assured her.

“Komack.”

He nodded, standing smoothly. “As I suspected. Thank you for your insight, Ms Uhura.”

“You are very welcome. And I hope you will call me Nyota.”

“I will,” he agreed. “Let me know what time to arrive for the press conference.”

“I will,” she assured him, walking him to her door and seeing him out. He’s hiring me an assistant, she texted to Jim.

Thought you didn’t want to be slowed down came the nearly instantaneous reply.

Don’t be such a smart ass.

What kind of language is that for a lady to use? he responded, making her laugh.

 He’s a keeper she texted to Leonard certain he would convey the information to the team in no time.

Third Inning

Top of the Third Inning

NEW BISON GM OUTLINES PLANS FOR TEAM

EVERSTON: In a lengthy press conference, Mr. Spock, newly appointed General Manager of the Everston Bison, laid out his plans for the team. While he assured the gathered reporters and citizens/team owners that he intended no radical changes in management or team composition, he did make clear that he was in charge and would make all the decisions concerning what was and was not in the best interest of the team. When asked the method he would use to reach these conclusions, he responded that he would make logical decisions based on research and best-practices.

This reporter hopes those best-practices are those inherent to baseball and not those learned at Harvard Business School. Baseball is a business yes, but it is not about making and selling more and better widgets than the competitors.

_________________________________________________________

“Do we like him?” Leonard asked Jim as they drove home after the game ended. Leonard was driving Jim’s battered Jeep Wrangler, not trusting him to stay awake long enough to get them home safely.

“We do,” Jim said with a nod. “Even though he’s a Vulcan, I think he really does want to leave us alone to do what we do best.”

“That’s all any of us can ask,” Bones confirmed.

“What does Nyota think?”

“Besides telling me he’s a keeper?” Bones asked.

“Yeah. Does she like him?”

“She does. More importantly, she trusts him,” Leonard said, glancing over at Jim who was having trouble keeping his eyes open. “Don’t fall asleep yet. We’re six minutes from home.”

“I know. Damn reporters,” Jim said taking a deep breath.

“At least you managed not to say fuck the entire time they were interviewing you,” Bones said in sarcastic congratulations.

“Yeah,” Jim said with a shrug. “Did Nyota tell you that if Mom does run, she’s leaning toward accepting the job?”

“Yeah,” Bones said. “Kind of put a damper on our relationship.”

“Yours and mine? Or yours and hers?”

“You and I don’t have a relationship. I tolerate you. That’s it. You are nothing more than a paycheck to me.”

“OMG. That is such a lie. First of all, I don’t pay you. And secondly, you live with me, dude.”

“Do we need to review whose name is on the lease?” Leonard asked.

“Who pays the rent, Dr. Smart-ass?”

“Sam does,” Leonard reminded him.

“He writes the checks. It’s my money,” Jim said with a frown. “Fine,” he said when Leonard laughed. “I’m buying a house and I’m not telling you where it is.”

“Thank God. Too bad it’s after midnight. Otherwise we could go to the bank.”

“We don’t need to go to any stinkin’ bank. I can write a check for a house. Right now. Can you?” Jim asked in challenge.

“Yes I can.”

“Then you are grossly overpaid,” Jim said, unbuckling his seatbelt when Leonard pulled into the space in front of their townhouse.

“You are the only one in this conversation who doesn’t deserve the money he makes,” Leonard retorted, taking Jim’s gear out of the back of the Jeep.

“I so do,” Jim said.

“You make approximately the GNP of Guatemala per minute,” Bones reminded him as he unlocked their front door. “Nobody deserves that kind of money.”

“You have no idea what the gross national production of Guatemala is,” Jim said, turning on the foyer light.

“I have a much better idea than you do. You are numerically illiterate. Which is why Sam has to pay our rent.”

“Dude. I’m a genius. I’m not illiterate.”

“Whatever. Do you want something to eat before you go up?” Leonard asked as he went into the small, tidy kitchen just off the foyer.

“No. I don’t think so. Are you staying up?” Jim asked, leaning against the banister of the steps that would take him upstairs to his bedroom, identical to the one occupied by Leonard also upstairs.

“I have some notes to make. Although I’d rather amputate Larry’s hand than deal with one more blister. He is the worst kind of crybaby,” Leonard said, an all too familiar complaint.

“He is. How did he even make it up?” Jim asked as he wearily made his way up the steps. Leonard automatically helped him up, making sure he didn’t stumble backward. Bones had been the unfortunate witness of Jim doing exactly that twice before when sleep overcame him and Bones wasn’t right there to stop him tumble.

“No idea. Will you stay awake long enough to get out of your jeans?” Bones asked as he delivered him into his bedroom.

“Yeah. I got it from here,” Jim claimed, making the mistake of laying flat on his bed.

With an indulgent smile, Bones tugged off his sneakers, turning him the correct way on the bed before tackling his jeans. “Lift up.”

Jim complied, allowing Leonard to remove his jeans. “Thanks Mom.”

“Go to sleep. If you wake up dead in the morning, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Love you too,” Jim said, rolling on his side and instantly asleep. Bones pulled the covers up, smiling down at him.

“Love you, you brat,” he said before silently leaving him.

_______________________________________________

Bottom of the Third Inning

WINNING STREAK CONTINUES

WASHINGTON: The Everston Bison ran their league-leading winning streak to 11 games with their decisive 8-1 victory over the struggling Washington Senators.

Manager Chris Pike claimed it was only a coincidence that the Bison have been playing the best baseball of the season after the hiring of the new GM. “Every team gets hot. It was our turn.” The winning streak has increased their lead in the NL Central to six games. Some fans have already calculated the count-down to the playoffs but this reporter has seen too many late season collapses to begin making World Series plans just yet.

“Jim Kirk,” he told the latest receptionist in his mom’s office.

“As in Senator Kirk’s son Jim?” the enthusiastic voice asked.

“One and the same. Is Mom available?” he asked just barely keeping the laugh out of his voice.

“She is. Hold please,” the woman who sounded incredibly young said.

“Hey Baby. What are you up to?” Winona said in greeting, happiness coming through the phone.

“The usual. Stalking Senators. Swimming in the reflecting pool. You?”

“Talking to the Premier of Russia. Shooting polar bears at the zoo.”

“Excellent. The farmhouse needs a new living room rug. And it will secure the crazy animal lover votes.”

“Double-win,” she agreed with a laugh. “You coming over to take your decrepit mother to lunch?”

“I sure hope so. We don’t have to let that other son of yours tag along, do we?”

“My favorite son?” she asked in mock dismay.

“That one. I want all of your attention to myself. He gets to see you every day,” Jim said.

“There is that,” she agreed. “Is that grumpy doctor coming with you?”

“Nope. He’s squiring the second most beautiful woman in the world,” Jim told her.

“I see,” she said with a  warm smile in her voice. “Come to the third runner-up’s office. You can tell my favorite son he is being dissed.”

“It will be my pleasure. You have time now?”

“I do. I wrote today down as soon as the schedules were released. Right here. ‘Lunch with second favorite son.’”

“Wow. I do rate,” Jim laughed. “I’ll be up as soon as they finish strip searching me.”

“I added a body cavity search to the protocol just for you.”

“You are so good to me,” he said, hanging up with her responding laugh in his ear. It didn’t take long at all for him to clear security, a couple of autographs replacing a thorough search. He thought it was a good thing that he didn’t have any ulterior motive as they barely followed any of the protocol in allowing him in.

The elevator quickly took him to the fourth floor, Winona’s office the second on the right. Not one of the grandest offices and she could have upgraded several times. But she liked the view she had of the courtyard, especially when the trees and flowers were in bloom.

He opened the door to her outer office, smiling without reservation when he saw her standing in the center of the room. “Hey.”

“Is that any way to greet your Senator?” she scolded, a supposedly severe look on her face, her fists on her still slim hips.

“Oh. Do-over,” he said, leaving and returning right away. “Hello. Is this the office of Senator Kirk?”

“Maybe,” she said, eyeing him in suspicion. “Are you from Iowa?”

“Yes. Born and raised,” he agreed. “I have a petition I would like to present to the Senator.”

“A petition,” Winona repeated. “For what?”

“To rename the capitol of Iowa in her honor. It’s the least she deserves,” he said with his most charming smile, one that could have belonged to her.

“What do the good citizens of Des Moines think about that?” she inquired.

He waved away her concerns. “Whatever. They’ll get used to it.”

She finally cracked, laughing at him and holding her arms open for a much anticipated hug. “I’m so glad you could come.”

“Me too,” he said, kissing her cheek. He spared a glance at her receptionist who was staring at them with wide disbelieving eyes. “You ready to go? Or do you need to finish up some top-level negotiations?”

“I’m ready. Is it okay if we just eat downstairs? I’m due on the floor for a vote in 90 minutes.”

“I don’t care. Food is secondary. Seeing you is the only reason I came,” he reminded her.

“And they serve excellent coffee,” she added with a wink. “I’ll be on the Senate floor at 1:35.”

The receptionist nodded breathlessly.

“Do I still get to tell your favorite son he can’t come?” Jim asked.

“Of course,” she agreed, leading him over to a door that said ‘Chief of Staff.’ She knocked once before swinging the door open. “Black sheep’s here.”

“Oh Lord,” Sam said, standing up. “I thought you were kidding. And Security allowed him to waltz up here unaccompanied?”

“They are getting lax,” Jim agreed, hugging Sam tight. “The old battle-ax treating you okay?”

“I’m right here,” Winona reminded him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Oh right. Not you. Aurelin.”

“Uh huh,” she said with a nod, fighting a smile.

“You know. It’s a job,” Sam said with a wink. “You two going to your double-top secret lunch to which I am decidedly not welcome?”

“Something like that,” Jim agreed. “I wanted you to come but the Senator said absolutely not.”

“That’s not quite the story I heard,” Sam said, shaking his head. “I’ll alert security, Mom. They’ll escort him out.”

“That would be for the best,” she agreed. Jim laughed, telling Sam they would catch up soonest before escorting his mother down the hallway to the elevator. A few moments later they were in the Senate Dining Room, sitting at Winona’s favorite table.

“Are you running for President?” Jim asked after they had requested their preferred drinks.

“Don’t dance around the subject, dear. Ask what’s on your mind,” she said with a laugh.

“You always told me to be forthcoming,” he reminded her.

“I also told you not to say the f-word. Look how well that worked out.”

“You’ve been talking to Nyota, haven’t you?” he asked, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I have. And you aren’t too old or too big for me to turn over my knee if you don’t start listening to her advice.”

He shrugged innocently at that, looking up at the waiter when he returned with their drinks. Winona ordered the Chesapeake salmon after making sure Jim didn’t mind if she had it. He ordered the vegetarian burrito with extra sour cream.

“A vegetarian burrito?” Winona asked after the waiter had walked away. “This is new.”

“Well,” Jim shrugged, sipping his Pepsi innocently.

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with the new Vulcan GM would it?”

“Maybe I want to eat healthier. Maybe Bones said my cholesterol is too high.”

“Then you would have skipped the sour cream, my dear,” she said knowingly. “Does he eat sour cream?”

“Bones loves it,” he replied, howling softly but dramatically when she rapped his knuckles with her spoon.

“Stop playing coy. Are you trying to seduce Spock?”

“Not yet,” he hedged. “But God he’s gorgeous.”

She shook her head at that. “It’s a bad idea, baby. A really bad idea. Don’t mix work and pleasure.”

“I figure he won’t be GM longer than five more months. Then there won’t be any conflict of interest,” he said hopefully. Whether he was trying to convince her or himself wasn’t readily apparent.

“What if this one stays? What if he’s in for the long-term? It’s not a good idea,” she warned in her own maternal way.

“We’re two consenting adults. I don’t work for him as much as the citizens of Everston.”

She shook her head again, her grey curls bouncing. “You are setting yourself up for heartbreak.”

“Maybe,” he said with the patented Kirk-smile. “Are you running for President?”

“If I say yes, will you promise not to seduce Spock?”

“No. Are you saying yes?” he prompted.

“I don’t know, baby. The idea of campaigning. Living on the road for two years. Being subjected to the microscope of the press. And it could disrupt your life and Sam’s life. What about Peter, George, and Alicia? Can I do that to them?”

“You know you stand the best chance of beating those damn Cherry Treers. God help us if they get elected. They’ll turn back the clock 150 years. You’ll be back barefoot in the kitchen in Iowa.”

She laughed at his description. “Isn’t that a little extreme? I can’t get pregnant any longer.”

“I don’t need to know that,” Jim said in exaggerated shock. “Even though Chris is in town.”

“What do I care about that?” she asked in supposed indifference.

“Now who’s being coy? You’re the only thing he’s talked about for a solid week. So when are you going out with him?”

“Are you my social secretary now?” she asked, making him laugh.

“It’s an easy job since you have no life to speak of.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” she said, scowling at him.

“Does Chris think you should run?”

“We haven’t discussed it. The only thing we’ve discussed lately is your lack of manners and how you need to have your mouth washed out with soap.”

“That’s so boring,” he told her. “I’m not the most interesting thing in your life.”

“No but you are close,” she told him warmly, one hand over his.

“Thank you. I think you should run. And Nyota is leaning toward working for you if you do.”

“Then Leonard would be mad at me. For taking her away from him,” Winona pointed out.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “But you’ll be saving your country.”

“Saving or serving?” she asked.

“Both. How much can I contribute if you do run?”

“Not a lot. Not any more than the average Joe on the street,” she said, looking up at the waiter as he returned with their meals. “Thank you Stephan.”

After making sure they had everything they needed, he left them alone.

“Stephen?” Jim asked leaning closer to Winona.

“He’s worked here for three years. Get your tiny mind out of the gutter,” she said with a frown.

He just raised one eyebrow at her, taking out his phone when it vibrated in his pocket.

N is hiring Gaila Bones texted him.

“Oh Lord,” Jim said, showing his iPhone to his mother.

“Gaila? Orion Gaila?” Winona asked, not bothering to contain her laughter.

“Yeah. That will secure the liberated sex slave vote for you,” he said, texting Bones back. How much did Scotty have to do with this decision?

None that either of them will admit. Dont think Spock’s met her.

I bet he hasn’t, Jim returned, laughing. Will you forgive Winona if she runs for Pres and takes N away from you?

Eventually Bones returned.

“I see,” Winona said. But will YOU vote for me? That’s the most importatn question.

For anything Bones texted.

Good to know.

Are you running?

No decision yet Winona replied.

Soon?

???

Jim put his phone back in his pocket to return is focus to the vegetarian burrito. “This is really pretty…gross.”

“If it’s true love it’s worth it,” she teased.

“Think I can get a regular one before you have to leave me to save the country?”

“Probably. If Stephen decides you are worthy,” she with a warm laugh, calling Stephen over. She made Jim confess that he was not yet ready for the vegetarian lifestyle and Stephen promised to return with a regular burrito right away.

“You could find this a little less funny,” Jim requested.

She just shook her head, her eyes laughing still.

Fourth Inning

Top of the Fourth Inning

BISON WINNING STREAK SNAPPED BY ORIOLES

BALTIMORE: After winning a franchise record 18 games in a row, the Bison’s impressive streak was snapped by the lowly Orioles in what the Bison must be relieved was their final inter-league game. The Orioles, who barely have 18 wins since the All Star break, out-pitched, out-hit, out-fielded, and out-ran the Bison to a final score of 12-2.

Bison starting pitcher Hideki Fukudome did not look like the same pitcher who had won 4 games in a row prior to this woeful start. He lasted 1 and a third innings before Manager Chris Pike pulled out the hook. In his time on the mound, Fukudome allowed 10 of the Orioles 21 hits, 9 runs along with 2 wild pitches and 1 passed ball to add to his record of futility. Behind him, the infield managed to make 3 errors. There was even a rare error by left fielder Richard Drake. “Lost it in the sun.” A familiar yet suspect excuse.

The Bison did not get their first solid hit until the top of the eight inning when Hikaru Sulu hit an inside-the-park homerun, the only type, he readily admits, he is able to hit.

Orioles ace Robert Brown pitched all nine innings, barely breaking a sweat throughout the sultry evening. The temperature read 77 at the start of the game, the humidity in high double digits as the Inner Harbor provided additional moisture that was decidedly unwelcome.

The Bison used 7 pitchers, not including closer Jim Kirk who was kept out of the parade after pitching 2 and a third innings in yesterday’s defeat of the Orioles. Shortstop Pavel Chekov pitched the final one and a third innings, proving that his versatility knows no bounds. He allowed two hits, no runs and no walks. Maybe his talents aren’t being fully utilized in the in-field.

___________________________________________________

Jim was in sitting in his customary seat at the back of the bus as it took the Bison to Philadelphia, none of them sorry to see Baltimore in the rear-view mirror. Bones was snoozing, something  Jim should have been doing but he was too busy watching the other players react to the end of their streak. Most of them were seasoned enough to know that it would inevitably end and took it in stride. Some of the younger players were in a funk over it but Jim knew they would bounce back. The Phillies were a team the Bison always dominated in one of those eternal baseball mysteries. They hadn’t lost any ground to the Brewers in the standings, their trip to the World Series looking more certain each day. Not that they were looking past the play-offs but they viewed those games as mere gateways not possible stumbling blocks.

Hideki Fukudome was reading the early releases on the game, frowning more at each story that came up on his search. He turned his frown on his best friend on the team, right fielder Erik Allyn.

“What are they saying? I am loser?” Hideki asked Erik, punching him in the side with his elbow.

“You were the losing pitcher, Hi,” Erik reminded him, shifting a little further away from him so he could go back to sleep.

“I had no two wild pitches,” Hideki insisted, his frown becoming even more pronounced.

“The official scorer said you did,” Cupcake made the mistake of telling him.

“They were yours. You passed those balls,” Hideki told him a little louder than strictly necessary.

“Not according to the box score,” Cupcake said, his voice rising to match Hideki’s.

“This is wrong,” Hideki insisted, pointing at his computer screen. When his next outburst was in Japanese, Pavel woke up Hikaru to translate and hopefully calm him down.

“What’d he say?” Hikaru asked Pavel.

“It vas Japanese. Ve don’t know,” Pavel explained.

Hikaru asked Hideki in Japanese what he had said, the pitcher expressing his extreme displeasure with the abilities of Cupcake in a language the other players were just as glad they didn’t understand especially judging from the look on Hikaru’s face.

“It does no good to shout,” Sulu finally said in English, trying to restore some calm.

Fukudome, not satisfied with Hikaru’s response, yelled even louder. That drew Pike toward the back.

“That’s enough. Hideki, you need to calm down. Larry, you need to apologize for antagonizing him. Hikaru….” Chris stopped, not having anything relevant to say to Sulu. “Sit down. All of you.”

The players went back to their usual seats to stew in silence, Pike continuing to the very back. “Thanks for your help.”

“How is this my fault?” Jim asked, his hands up in innocence.

“You could have intervened. When did you start sitting like a bump on a log?”

“When did you start channeling Bones?” Jim asked.

“I’m not part of this,” Bones said, not bothering to open his eyes to grumble at Jim. He was burrowed as deep in the corner of the bus as possible, Jim’s jacket draped over him like an ill-fitting blanket.

“You are team Captain. You need to stop it before it gets out of control,” Pike told him sternly.

“I’m not team mother. Shit happens, Skip. Hideki’s frustrated. Take away his computer so he can’t read any more recaps,” Jim suggested sensibly.

Chris shook his head, giving Jim his patented evil eye that made Bones’ worst scowl look like a smiley face in comparison. “Stop it next time.”

“Sure,” Jim agreed nonchalantly. “Did you and Mom have a good time?”

“Shut up.”

Jim just smiled more broadly at Chris’ words. “What do you think about her running for President?”

“I think it’s entirely her decision. I don’t want Nyota leaving to work for her,” Chris said.

“Me neither,” Bones agreed from the corner where he was still seeking refuge and 40 winks.

“She told me that you are considering going after Mr. Spock,” Chris said quietly so that no one would overhear.

“She’s terrible at keeping secrets. That is not a good trait for a President,” Jim declared.

“Don’t do it, Jim. It will end badly.”

“I’ve heard that somewhere,” Jim said, his eyes twinkling in a way that Chris knew was dangerous.

“You are playing with fire. Nothing good will come out of it,” Chris tried.

“If I can convince him to trade Larry, anything will be worth it,” Jim responded.

“Yeah,” Chris sighed. “I mentioned that to him. The buy-out is too high right now. Hopefully at the end of the season.”

“That’d be nice,” Bones said.

“Well. Nothing’s going to be decided between Baltimore and Philadelphia. We should be at the hotel in 20 minutes.”

Jim nodded, looking out at the illuminated windows of the passing houses as Chris went back up the aisle, chatting with other members of the team.

“He’s right. You need to keep clear of Spock,” Bones said quietly, never stirring, never opening his eyes.

“When have I ever done the smart thing?” Jim asked.

“I’m serious, kid. It won’t end well. It can’t. Komack finds out and fires him. Or trades you. Then where will I be?”

“With Nyota. Traipsing across the country after Mom.”

“Yippee,” Bones said sarcastically. “More likely I’ll go back to Georgia and open my own practice. Settle down. Get off the road.”

“No you won’t. You’ll go to Iowa so you’ll be there when I’m home in the off season,” Jim corrected.

“I’m not moving to Iowa. Not now. Not ever. Not for you. Not for anybody.”

“That’s what you say now,” Jim laughed. “You can’t live without me.”

“You think that. Shows how delusional you really are.”

“I don’t think those are the sorts of things you are supposed to say to your best friend,” Jim said.

“How many times have I told you that I am not now nor have I ever been nor will I ever be your best friend?” Bones asked without bothering to open his eyes. He did frown harder when Jim laughed. “Shut the hell up.”

“Sure, Bones. Anything for you,” Jim responded.

“Anything? Like leaving me the hell alone?” Bones asked hopefully.

“Sure,” Jim repeated.

“Finally,” Bones said, slowly rousing himself when the bus pulled into the parking lot of the hotel. “God I hate road trips. Why do I have to come?”

“Why are you so cranky? Because you haven’t seen Nyota in a week?”

“I am not cranky,” Bones told him. “I’m old. Too old for this shit.”

Jim just laughed and shook his head, waiting for the bus to empty so they could get off. Nyota was finally back in her customary place in the lobby, distributing room keys and fending off passes. “Hey handsome.”

“Hello,” Jim responded.

“Oh as if,” she scoffed, kissing Leonard on the mouth and pointedly ignoring the catcalls behind them. “You busy later?”

“It is later,” he told her before kissing her. “But I always have time for you.”

“So. I’m all by myself tonight,” Jim said, pouting dramatically.

“Sucks to be you,” Bones said, taking the second key to Jim’s assigned room. “You want me to wait with you or go on up?”

“Go up, babe. I won’t be long. Will you be asleep when I get there?”

“Most likely. Since I won’t have anyone to keep me awake with a running commentary,” Bones said with a frown specifically for Jim.

“See. These are the things that you shouldn’t say,” Jim said.

“I wouldn’t say them to my best friend if I had one. I don’t talk to Nyota like that,” Bones assured him.

“Yes you do,” Uhura corrected with a beautiful laugh. “Take him to my room, please. Then go to your own.”

“Of course, your highness. I live to serve,” Jim agreed, accepting the spare key to Uhura’s room. “Come on, old man. Let’s get you upstairs before the grim reaper realizes you’re here.”

“You’re a pal,” Bones said, kissing Nyota one last time before allowing himself to be led to the elevator and up to the tenth floor. “What floor is our room?”

“This one. We’re in 1023.”

Bones nodded, following Jim into Nyota’s suite. “See you at breakfast,” Bones said with a wink.

“Sure. Have fun,” Jim said in an overly dramatic tone in hopes Bones would feel sorry for him, a hope that was completely in vain.

“Go to bed,” Bones said, escorting him to the door. “And don’t call me. Or text me. I’m not keeping my phone on.”

“You have to keep your phone on,” Jim reminded him. “Part of your job.”

“Yeah but nothing says I have to answer it if it’s you,” Bones said, trying to close the door even though Jim had his foot firmly wedged in the way. “Get out.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Jim said, turning and leaving without a backward glance. But he knew Bones continued to watch him until he disappeared into the suite they were officially assigned.

_____________________________________________

 Bottom of the Fourth Inning

BISON SWEEP SERIES OVER PHILLIES

PHILADELPHIA: Showing once again why they are the odds-on favorite to win the NL Championship, the Bison brought out the big broom in Philadelphia, defeating the Phillies 8-2 in the final game of the three game series.

The Bison clicked on all cylinders, with their hitting, pitching, fielding, and base-running nearly flawless. The only proverbial fly in the ointment were the two passed balls by Larry “Cupcake” McGintry leading this reporter to wonder once again why Bison management does not trade him.

When asked about a possible trade, new GM Spock said that it was too close to the end of the season to make such drastic personnel moves. “Mr. McGintry has helped the team achieve its current record. And I believe the saying goes along the lines of ‘you dance with the one that brought you.’”

“So,” Jim said, slipping into the empty seat across from Spock. The rest of the team was down the street, indulging in wings and beer. Jim had watched Spock detach himself and enter the Greek place which served all manner of vegetarian dishes.

“Are you vegetarian now?” Spock asked, one eyebrow elevated in skepticism. It wasn’t that Jim had been studying Spock’s expressions or cataloging them or trying to guess which almost-expression would appear at any given time.

“Nah,” Jim said with a laugh. “But I have no interest in eating with them.”

“I see,” Spock said, glancing up at the waitress when she returned with his water. If her eyes lingered on Jim several moments too long, who was going to blame her?

“What would you like?” she asked Jim, her tongue peeking out to make the lip-gloss she had recently applied shimmer all the more.

“Pepsi. And I’m old enough to be your father. Just FYI,” Jim told her.

Her eyes widened slightly before she turned and walked away.

“You are not old enough to have sired her,” Spock said.

“Sired her?” Jim laughed. “I’m not a horse. And neither is she.”

“Still,” Spock said. “Was there some topic concerning the team that you wished to discuss with me?”

“Nope,” Jim said. “This is one of the few times I’ve been able to catch you alone. Is T’Pring grafted to you by some invisible Vulcan sorcery?”

“Vulcans do not believe in sorcery, as you well know,” Spock said, his voice almost entirely disguising his amusement.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “But I’ve seen spouses less tightly wound than the two of you.”

Spock shrugged one elegant shoulder in dismissal, looking up at the new waitress that appeared with Jim’s drink. She was old enough to be Jim’s mother and would brook no nonsense. None.

“What’re you eating?” she demanded, her pen poised and ready.

“What looks good to you?” Jim asked her with his most charming smile. She frowned at him and glanced instead at Spock.

“Well?” she asked, her fist on her ample hip.

“I will have the spanakopita. I have been told yours is the best,” Spock said. That got a smile from her, one that might have cracked her heavy makeup.

“And you? You want the same, Casanova?” she asked Jim.

“Spinach? Feta cheese? God no. I want a chicken gyro with extra tzatziki sauce. And an order of fries. Well done,” he requested. “With Ranch dressing on the side.”

“Of course,” she agreed, walking away.

Jim watched her disappear into the kitchen before returning his full attention to Spock. “So what do you say?”

“About what precisely?” Spock asked evenly.

“You. Me. Us.”

“There is no us,” Spock told him. “And that will remain unchanged.”

“Why? You’re hot. I’m hot. Together we would be scorching. Hotter than Vulcan.”

“You are a member of the team for which I am now responsible. It would be a conflict of interest of the worst sort if you and I had any involvement other than professional.”

“There’s no anti-fraternization clause in either of our contracts,” Jim told him, a twinkle in his oh-so-blue eyes.

Spock stared at him until Jim began to feel some discomfort from the intensity of the Vulcan’s gaze. But he refused to squirm. “How do you know for certain?” Spock finally asked in a surprisingly conversational tone considering how hard he was trying to burn holes through Jim’s head with his eyes.

“Google, my friend. Looked up your contract. Called my brother about mine. Already checked but he’s the lawyer. Said there’s nothing to prevent us if that’s what we want,” Jim informed him with what could best be described as a leer.

“I have no intentions of fraternizing with you, permissible or not,” Spock said.

“Yes you do,” Jim laughed. “You want me. I want you. What’s the problem?”

“I do not want anything from you other than your baseball prowess.”

Jim laughed again. “Okay. If that’s what you are telling yourself. It’s fine. I’ll wait. You’ll come around.”

“I will not,” Spock said. “Additionally I had understood you were involved with Dr. McCoy.”

“Involved involved?”

“If by that you mean sexually, then yes. That was my understanding,” Spock said.

“Nope. Never have. Never will. Anyway, he’s involved with Nyota. She’d have my balls for lunch if I tried. Which I never would. Bones is my BFF. My non-blood brother. Ya know?” Jim said, looking up at the waitress when she returned with their meals. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else?” she asked, defrosting slightly now that Jim was displaying his company manners.

“I’m good. Thanks,” Jim said with a warm and surprisingly sincere smile.

“Let me know,” she said before leaving with a glance over her shoulder.

“Never have. Never will. That describes our involvement,” Spock told him.

“Nope,” Jim said, shaking his head. “It’s kismet.”

“Kismet,” Spock repeated, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

“I see you are starting to believe me,” Jim said, eating another fry and savoring it. “We’ll be great together.”

“We will not,” Spock countered.

“Are you involved with T’Pring?” Jim asked.

“I am not. I am not currently involved in anything other than my employment.”

“We aren’t that hard a job,” Jim laughed.

“On the contrary,” Spock said. “You and your teammates are quite….” He stopped, concentrating on his food rather than completing his thought.

“Lively? Competitive? Fun to be around?” Jim supplied.

“Yes. Yes. Not especially,” Spock said.

Jim just laughed at that, eating his gyro with surprising grace. “Are your parents here or on Vulcan?”

“Why?” Spock asked.

“Making conversation. You know my mom’s in DC. Seems fair I know the same about your mom.”

“Why did your mother choose to go into politics?” Spock asked not to dodge Jim’s question but out of sincere interest.

“She didn’t,” Jim said. “My dad was in the state senate. He was flying an experimental solar powered airplane and it crashed. The governor appointed Mom to fill his term. When the election came around, Mom wasn’t going to run. But she was drafted and won by a landslide. Since she didn’t want to be in politics, she told the truth. Said what was on her mind. We Iowans like that. Elected her for three state terms. Then they decided she needed to go to Washington. And the rest is history, as they say.”

“Indeed,” Spock said. “Was she with you during your formative years?”

“Mostly. When she wasn’t, my grandmother was. Mildred Kirk was not someone you messed with,” Jim laughed. “We lived on the Kirk farm. Mom still owns it. My brother Sam will probably live there when Mom finally lets him leave.”

“Where will you live?” Spock asked.

Jim shrugged. “Pretty much anywhere but Iowa. I like it warmer in the winter and cooler in the summer.”

Spock nodded at that, taking a bite of his spanakopita without the crust falling onto his black tunic. Quite a feat which Jim could never accomplish.

“So what about your parents? Your father still at the Federation Headquarters?”

“He is,” Spock agreed, not revealing any surprise if he felt any. “My mother is with him. They return to Vulcan as often as his schedule permits. However as she teaches at the  University, they must coordinate with the academic calendar as well.”

“Mom has talked with Sarek quite a few times. Since she’s on the Federation Funding Task Force. She said he’s the smartest person she’s ever met. And she thinks your mom is fabulous.”

“I think so as well,” Spock said making Jim laugh. “My father speaks highly of Senator Kirk.”

“That’s good. So when you and I are an item, we know our families will get along.”

Spock shook his head before taking another bite of his lunch. “You may continue to pretend there will be more between us than our respective positions. That will make it no more true.”

“I can think of quite a few positions I’d like to be in with you,” Jim said, drinking his soda and staring at Spock the entire time.

“You are incorrigible.”

“All part of my charm,” Jim claimed. He looked over at the door when it opened to admit Nyota who made a bee line to their table. “Hey.”

“What the hell, Jim?” Nyota said. “You were supposed to be at the park 20 minutes ago.”

“Really?” Jim said in genuine confusion. “It’s not a day game.”

“No but you are the featured guest on All Cable Sports’ Baseball Insider. Did you forget?” Nyota demanded.

“The featured guest?” Jim repeated, his continued confusion etched on his face. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“Gaila told you. Yesterday,” Nyota said.

Jim shook his head at that. “I haven’t heard from Gaila in three or four days.”

“She texted you. Did you ignore it?” Nyota asked.

Jim took his phone out of his pocket, showing Nyota all of the text messages he had gotten during the previous three days. “No Gaila.”

“No email?” Nyota asked, her anger seeping away.

“No. No phone call. No smoke signals. I’m not yanking your chain, Nyota. I really don’t know anything about it.”

Nyota frowned but this time it was not because of Jim. She took his phone and called Gaila. “Hey. Jim didn’t get a text from you.”

“I was supposed to text him?” Gaila asked.

“About his appearance on Baseball Insider,” Nyota said, her anger coming through. “He is already late for the interview.”

“Oh. That,” Gaila said.

“Yes. That. Did you text him or not?” Nyota demanded.

“Uhmm… well. I think I did,” Gaila hedged.

“You think you did,” Nyota said, each word hard and distinct in her anger.

“Maybe? Probably? If you told me to, I most likely did.”

“Gaila,” Nyota said in exasperation. “We’ll discuss this later. Can I trust you to call the producer and tell him we’re on our way?”

“Of course,” Gaila said. “Zack Pfieffer, right?”

“Yes. Don’t flirt with him. Just call and tell him.”

“I will. Drive carefully, ‘kay?”

“Call Zack.” With that Nyota hung up and returned Jim’s phone to him. “We have to go.”

“I guessed,” Jim said, standing up and taking some money out of his pocket. “That should cover it.”

“Indeed,” Spock agreed. “I will see you at the park.”

“Yep. Bye.” Jim left with Nyota, the feel of Spock’s eyes following him as they left.

Fifth Inning

EVERSTON BISON WIN NL CENTRAL

EVERSTON: To the surprise of no one with even a passing interest in baseball, the Everston Bison, with their 3-1 win over the Minnesota Brewers, clinched the NL Central. Even with 21 games left in the regular season, the Bison hold so commanding a lead that their ‘magic number’ is already down to zero.

Manager Chris Pike credits teamwork for their success. “This is the most unified team I’ve ever managed,” he said after their landmark game. “They think of one another more than themselves. As cliché as it sounds, there is no ‘I’ in teamwork. They have taken that to heart and made it their standard.”

GM Spock reiterated the words of Pike. “This group of young men exemplify what it takes to be successful, not solely in baseball but in any endeavor. They focus on the one goal they set at the start of the season – to advance to the playoffs and then to the World Series. They are aware that only together can they achieve these ideals.”

__________________________________________

“Hello?” Jim said wearily as Bones drove them home from the park. With the reporters endless questions and the team celebration, it was well past 2 a.m. when they finally got away.

“Congratulations,” Spock said.

“Thanks. I thought you’d be in the locker room with us.”

“That is not my place. If we win the World Series, I will celebrate with the team.”

“When, not if,” Jim laughed.

“I stand corrected,” Spock agreed. “I will let you go. And I will see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks for calling,” Jim said, disconnecting and putting his phone back in his pocket as he yawned.

“Is he calling everybody?” Bones asked.

“No idea. He didn’t say. We’ll ask tomorrow,” Jim said, making the mistake of letting his eyes close.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Bones said in a familiar warning.

“Hm..mmm…”

“Great,” Bones grumped. “And I notice your plan to seduce him hasn’t worked out the way you had hoped.”

“Give me time. I’m just getting started,” Jim countered.

“Right. And I’m King of England.”

“Of course you are,” Jim laughed.

“I stand a better chance of being made King than you have of getting Spock in bed with you,” Bones said.

“Do I hear a bet in there?” Jim asked.

“Sure. I got nothing to lose. You won’t be sleeping with him in this lifetime.”

“I accept. Let’s see….hmmm…. Whoever loses has to buy a house. So we won’t be in the townhouse any longer.”

“That’s fine. You can afford a much nicer house than I can,” Bones said, making Jim laugh.

“I won’t be buying it. You will. I do get final say on the design.”

“I don’t want a house here. What if you are traded? And I decide to marry Nyota? You aren’t planning to live in Everston forever, are you?”

“No,” Jim agreed, considering it. “Where do you want to build a house?”

“In the South, probably. Not Georgia. Virginia is nice.”

“On the coast?” Jim asked.

“Sure. You can afford ocean front property. Since you’ll be paying for the house.”

“I most certainly won’t,” Jim corrected. “And if you marry Nyota, does that mean I can’t live with you?”

Bones just shook his head at that, not otherwise responding. His silence made Jim laugh which was not the reaction McCoy had been seeking.

~0~

“Hey,” Hikaru said as he left the bathroom. He was scrubbing a towel through his thick black hair, making it stand up all over. Pavel was already in bed, reading something on his computer. “Was the celebration like you thought it would be?”

“Da,” Pavel said, watching Hikaru move around their bedroom and enjoying the view. The towel draped around his neck was the only one he had on – anywhere. “You thought it vould be more rowdier?”

“I guess so,” Hikaru said, throwing his towel on the bathroom floor before slipping into bed. He lay on his side to look up at Pavel. “Didn’t you?”

“Ve vill save the big celebrating for the World Series,” Pavel assured him.

“Yeah. Did Jim seem out of sorts to you?” Hikaru asked, his left hand under the sheet and seeking out Pavel’s thigh.

“No. I do not think so. You thought he vas down?”

“A little. Not as boisterous as I expected,” Hikaru said. He raised up on one elbow, looking at Pavel’s computer screen. “Seriously? We just won the NL Central and you are doing your physics homework?”

“It vill not do itself, Karu,” Pavel pointed out.

“When’s it due?”

“Monday,” Pavel replied.

“Good. Close down the program. We are going to have our own celebration,” Hikaru decided, pulling the sheet down off Pavel’s body and kissing the parts that were slowly exposed.

“Da,” Pavel agreed, saving his work and putting his computer beside the bed, out of harm’s way. “Celebration is good.”

“Very good,” Hikaru agreed, kissing his smiling mouth until they were both completely breathless.

~0~

“Gaila,” Nyota called from her office. When she got no response, she went to the outer office that had been built for Gaila. Nyota didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed when she saw Gaila fast asleep, her head on her desk, her red curls tumbled everywhere. “Gaila,” Nyota said quietly, touching Gaila’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Gaila sighed, forcing her eyes to open.

“Come in my office and sleep on my couch,” Nyota said.

“What time is it?”

“2:45,” Nyota said, helping her stand and guiding her gently into her office.

“You?”

“I’ll be fine. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day.”

“It is tomorrow,” Gaila reminded her as she lay down on the couch, Nyota spreading a blanket over her.

“I know. I’ll be done in another half hour.”

“You sleep?”

“I’ll nap in my chairs,” Nyota assured her. “It won’t be the first time.”

“Mmm…” Gaila sighed, falling asleep before she could more fully answer.

Nyota smiled down at her for a moment before returning to her desk. As annoying as Gaila could be at times, she had a heart of pure gold and would do anything that was asked of her. She didn’t distinguish between calling the Commissioner of Baseball and running out to get Nyota’s lunch because she had no time to go herself. And the fact that she and Scotty had been inseparable since Gaila came on meant the rest of the team didn’t spend all of their time trying to be Gaila’s next conquest.

Nyota took a deep breath and re-read the dispatches to all the media outlets. Certain they were in order, she hit the send button, watching the computer work its magic. After turning the ringer on her phone all the way down, she curled up on the loveseat and promptly fell asleep.

~0~

“Hey,” Chris Pike said when he answered his cell phone, his smile coming through as clearly as his voice.

“Hey yourself,” Winona responded. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“I watched the whole game. Then I got caught up in some legislation I needed to review. I was hoping to catch you before you fell asleep,” she said, a smile in her voice to match his.

“I only got home a few minutes ago. Post game interviews. Important baseball stuff. You know – the usual.”

“I can imagine. I’m hoping to come to the play-offs. I can get out of here a few days early. And Sam really wants to come too.”

“That would be great,” Chris agreed. “Do you want to sit in the team President’s box?”

“Do I have to sit with Komack?” Winona asked, making Chris laugh.

“Probably. You’ll also be sitting with Spock. You can warn him about your son.”

“It won’t help. You know that,” she said. “If Jim wants Spock, eventually he’ll have him.”

“I don’t doubt it. He’s much like his father that way,” Chris said.

“He is. Do I need to book a hotel room for while I’m there?” she asked with a deep throated laugh which sent shivers skittering across Chris’ skin.

“God I hope not. My spare bedroom isn’t occupied,” Chris laughed.

“Sounds…cozy,” Winona said. “Will we scandalize the team if I stay with you?”

“They’re grown men. Most of them. Let them think what they will.”

“All right,” she said. “I’ll let you go. Call when you have a chance?”

“You know I will,” he agreed, wishing her pleasant dreams and disconnecting.