Captain James T. Kirk
USS Enterprise NCC-1701
C/O Starfleet Operations
Earth Central
Title: Dear Sam 29
Author: Istannor
Series: TOS
Part: 1/1
Rating: [PG13]
Codes:
Summary: We give our thanks to Ambassador Spock's estate for
allowing us to view these records. It allows us an unusual
insight into the process by which the most famous Command
team in Starfleet history, became a team.

Disclaimer: These are the characters of Paramount and
Viacom. They own them. I only check 'em out from the
library. I promise to bring 'em back.




STARFLEET DIPLOMATIC COURIER, CODED SECURE
George Samuel Kirk Jr.
Bioagricultural Industries, Kirk Inc
Deneva Central
17 Junque St.
Deneva, UFP


Dear Sam,


I heard you made a ruckus about not hearing from me.  That
wasn't a good idea, Sam.  Folks might want to know why you
were so worried.  How are you going to tell them that you
heard me calling you in your dreams? I'm fine. Stop
worrying.  Knowing you, you've called Jean and Mom already.
Call them off.  You got Spock's letter so you know the
general details.  I can tell you the rest now.

Okay, I'll start with the beginning. We decided to explore,
map and categorize the flora and fauna on one of four
possible colonizable worlds. We had named the world
Posiedon. It's a serene, beautiful, place with beaches on
crystalline sand and oceans warmed by constant winds and
thermal vents. There were no predators, no poisons, and no
owners. That's what we thought.

I let everyone go down and play, and I decided I needed a
break, too. All I wanted was to swim, and lay back in the
sun for a few days. I remember telling you about the
Seadogs. Let me see if I can quote myself. They "looked like
a cross between otters, dogs, and whales with no arms, just
pseudopods. The heads were the closest things about them to
otters and the eyes were dark blue, like the sea.  They
glittered like multifaceted jewels in the white light of the
sun. "

I bet that is pretty damn close to what I wrote you before.
I'll pay you a credit for every word I'm off.

They had no anxiety about humans at all, Sam. They just swam
up and sort of asked to be petted. I didn't think anything
about it after a while. I been places before where animals
weren't hunted and they would just stand and look at you.
They didn't often let themselves be touched, but what the
hell. We scanned them and they had no teeth, no stingers, no
toxins, so I touched them. I could feel a sound coming from
them. I thought it was like a purr and when I played with
them, or let myself be pulled along in the water by them,
they purred even louder. Over a few days, I got them to play
fetch, believe it or not. I used a big red ball, and they
would push it along in the water and bat it towards me and I
would throw it out again.

I was having fun.

One night we had a luau on the beach, and I was drinking
with Bones. Spock was reading a journal and trying to ignore
us. Bones is still trying to get me drunk. We had poured a
lot, but I felt fine. I decided I needed to go out and swim.
Now that I think about it, I was pulled out to swim by
something I almost could hear at the upper range of sound. I
didn't realize it then; I just got this stupid idea to swim.

I felt it coming, Big Brother. It was huge and fast and I
should've headed for the shore like a seal losing a great
white shark, but I couldn't leave. I felt . . . wonder and a
sense of joyful expectation. I was a child opening up
presents on Christmas. When the Big Seadog came under me and
lifted me up into the air, all I could do was shout with joy
and laugh my head off. I decided I was drunk and too
stupid to know it. Power. I was lifted and carried like I
was a toy.

The sound was there too, louder and more alien than before.
It carried something with it that I kept reaching to hear,
kept needing to hear. I wanted it, Sam. They didn't entice
me. I went for it like a drugger for Synthenkephalin. I felt
myself skipping along a current as old and as deep as the
world and for a moment I felt a question in the water, a
waiting expectancy. Who was I? It seemed to want to know
that. There were no words, no word pictures, nothing I could
really grasp and hold. I decided I had imagined it all and
was drunk.

I fell asleep on the back of a small whale sized being and I
was too out of it to realize something wasn't quite as it
should be. Part of me knew that if it started going too far
away from shore, Spock would have them beam me off it's
back, and part of me didn't care. I rode.

When I got carried to shore by my new buddy, Spock and McCoy
were so mad at me, I could almost feel it as a current in
the air.  Then Spock accused me of being drunk and
irresponsible and I got angry, mostly because I believed
him. I felt drunk and irresponsible. I knew I had scared
them and I believed I had imagined all the sounds and the
currents because of the alcohol. The sense of peace and
controlled power beneath me had made me feel . . .damn this
is hard. I felt safe. Do you know how long it has been since
I have felt absolutely safe?

Yeah, you do know.

I felt better attributing my feelings to alcohol, then
thinking they might be real. It's easier for me to deny
wanting to feel safe than to admit I am ever frightened.
Starship Captains are not afraid of anything. It's in the
offical owner's manual.

Who the hell feels safe riding the back of a whale sized
otter/squid/dog creature over the waves of a nighttime alien
sea?

For the record, I enjoyed it. I regret making folks jump
though hoops to find me. I regret Spock risking his life to
save me, but I'm not ashamed of the journey I took. I swam
among the stars. I saw sights I will never get to really see
again in this existence. I heard sounds not meant for human
ears. Creatures intelligent and wonderful live on worlds we
may never see. Beings who should have scared me wordless,
had I been on the Enterprise, were only notes in the Song to
the Elders. All they see is wonder and majesty.

A few especially malignant races, unbelievably cruel and
violent, were enough to give me pause. I will send a special
message to Jean about those. The family might want to be
prepared for them. Fortunately none of them have found their
way anywhere near Federation Space.

I'm still dealing with some after affects, I think. I keep
hearing things I shouldn't and seeing things that aren't
here anymore. They can hear things we can't, Sam. Space is
like a series of layers to them. Each layer flows over the
other in an infinite number of infinite planes and they dive
in and out of all of them like they would swim through
water.

Damn, that doesn't explain it well, does it? Let me try
again. In the ocean, there are thermal currents that run all
the way around the world. Jean told me once about ancient
sailors who navigated the oceans from Africa to  Micronesia
and Polynesia to settle. They built Empires that spanned
from island to island and sailed their world with assurance.
They did not use the Sun, or the Stars as much as they used
the currents. They read them like they were notes in a
watery symphony. They knew to get from one island to another
in the chain, they went from b flat to a sharp to middle c.
The music in the ocean was the song they heard and played.
Some of the currents were seasonal and some were always
present, but they all were part of the Symphony they saw and
sailed.

The Elders are that and so much more. A Sun going Nova is C
sharp and a black hole is G, you know that deep G you could
never hit in a song to save your life. They move from note
to note, from place to place, and their movement is Song and
their thoughts are Song and their vision is Song. Woven into
the fabric of space are the same eddies and currents that we
are too blind, deaf and stupid to see. They float along the
notes and change the Song with their visit to a different
Sound, a different place.

I heard the Song. I floated on the currents and for a
moment, I understood my place in this cosmos. God I was so
happy, Sam. I was no longer afraid of failing my crew, or
the Federation, or myself. My ghosts were quiet and my
memories were mute. I called you. I wanted you to hear it, I
needed someone to hear and see what I heard and to tell me
it was as incredibly wonderful and melodious as I thought it
was. Did you hear any of it?

Spock heard it. His sounds were not mine, but they were
equally as wonderful, I think. Instead of embracing the Song
and floating on the waves of the cosmos, he refused to swim.
He refused to dive into the quasars and trail along in the
outer rim of supernovas.

Don't ask me how they do what they do. I don't think they
know. . .or care how it's done. The Song is all.

I called Jean. . .she answered. I called Mom, and she
didn't. I wonder why?  I can't say much more about that
until I see you. I will tell you one thing, Jean had never
heard their Song before. She only stayed a second, a ghost,
a reflection against the rings of Saturn. She smiled at me
and said something I did not want to hear. "This is not for
you, Baby. Go home." Then, in control as always, she left. I
am sure as hell not a baby, but she and Mom can make me feel
like a naughty five year-old with a look and three words.

When I called for you, I could tell you were asleep; your
answers were all fuzzy. I didn't mean to put you at risk and
I won't ever do that again. I'm sorry. I just felt so. .
.alive. I wanted to share it.

When I called McCoy, his mind felt like it had a durasteel
fence around it. I honored his barrier.

Spock answered. At first, I think he heard the Song as I
did, but I could feel him dropping behind, trying to weigh
me down and keep me back. I didn't want to stay, Sam. I
wanted to fly along the waves and the notes of the Galaxy. I
wanted to see what was on the other side of the Galactic
barrier. I wanted to hear what notes a new galaxy had in
store. I wanted to skip along the surface of the seven rings
of Aldeberaan and swim in the seas of Pollix 8. Each place,
each step, each sight, became a new note in my choral, in
their symphony, in the Galaxies unending Song.

Spock tried to call me back. He screamed against the tide
and I flew onward, ever outward and onward. In the end, he
got his way. I'm back. I go along at warp speed in a ship,
when I was sailing faster than thought, free. He did the
right thing. I'm mad as hell at him, but he did the right
thing. I just can't figure out why he did what he did.

We're friends, I know that. You got him to promise to be my
anchor. I know that too. But where does he get off deciding
for me? The ship wasn't in danger, the crew was healthy and
safe, life would've gone on without me. I am not talking
about suicide, Sam. I'm talking about being among the stars,
no, diving in the damn things if I wanted to. What kind of
fool would I be to turn down a chance like that? When do I
get to be free? When do I get to lay back and not have to do
anything but what I want?

Damn, forget what I just said. I could delete it, but I
guess you should know how nuts I am right now. It's better
to say these things to you than to Spock. I've been very
quiet around him for the most part. I know I'm being
irrational, so I don't say anything. I don't want to ruin
what we've managed to cobble together so far. Sam, it does
me good to talk to you, even when you're two quadrants
away, and it'll take a week to get a reply.

I am a dunce, a nut, and a nincompoop.

Spock did the right thing. He called me back to my duty and
my purpose in life. He was and is my friend, even if I don't
understand him. It's strange. I've learned how to read him
much better, but that doesn't mean I understand what
motivates him, or what he's really thinking. I mean you're
a damn holovid to me with subtitles in case I missed the
point the first time.  I don't even need to read your face
or body language. Dealing with him is like reading old-
fashioned Braille with burned fingertips. You can just make
out the words, if you press hard and ignore the pain . . .
and the numbness.

Bones, needless to say is pissed. I think if I wasn't still
his Captain, he would smack me right in the forehead. He
walks around and mutters a lot under his breath. 'Fool, damn
idiot, inconsiderate pain in the ass', are a few of the
monikers I've hear him mutter. Guilty as charged on all
counts.

I didn't get drawn in on purpose, but I didn't fight that
hard either. The Seadogs were like playing with Mandella or
Whinny and Spank. I was playing, trying to relax, and the
next thing I knew, 10 days later, I was sailing the galaxy.

The Elders sent me back. I'm not sure I would've had the
strength to come back on my own. There, I admitted it. Left
to my own devices, I would've blown it. I'm not
invulnerable or infallible. I hate knowing that, admitting
it is even worse. Had to do it though, or it would sit and
make me into a liar, a caricature of a Starship Captain. You
know, like the ones in the Saturday morning vids, always
right, always wise, always brave. Screw that. I am always
... nothing.

I wonder if the Elders are always the way I saw them. I
loved what I saw of them. One strange thing to note. There
was an area of space where I wasn't allowed to go. I asked
why and I think the answer was: 'Our Sister who went away
Sings alone there among the children of others.' The Song
sounded a little sad when they sang that. I wonder what made
them sad.

They were infinitely kind, gentle, and patient. I have never
before seen any beings who demonstrated as much peace and
joy as they did.

I survived, more or less intact.

You know, Sam, the strange thing is recently, command has
made me feel isolated. I had come to believe I was nothing
more than the Old Man. Folks might miss me for a second, but
things would go on. The Universe would not even blink. Now I
know the universe still won't blink when I die, but at least
I am not as alone as I thought I was. At least one
inscrutable Vulcan and one irascible Human Doctor would give
a damn about me. Maybe there are even a few more. Penda came
to visit me in sickbay. My hands still remember the feel of
her skin from back in the good old days when she loved me.

We're being such good little spacers: no hanky and no
panky.

The family doesn't count. You guys have to love me and miss
me; I was such a cute kid.

Anyway, I'm fine. I'm back on light duty and visiting the
gym twice a day for strengthening and conditioning. Somehow,
Spock manages to be there every time, so he helps me work
out. Personally, I think he is undercover special ops from
McCoy. Probably, supervising me is his penance for pissing
Bones off. Oh, by the way, please send me two bottles of
that special crated stuff you have hidden in the storage
room. Make sure you put it in a diplomatic pouch and charge
it to my account. You know which bottles I mean. Bones will
have his piece of flesh. Damn, he was really mad. This may
cost me a months salary but the last thing I need is a
really pissed off chief surgeon. Mail it. . .QUICK! My life
may depend on it.  Just kidding. I hope.

Hug the boys for me, and kiss you wife for me too. I mean a
big, mouth open, deep throat,feel her up kiss. I know,
you're gonna slap me up side my head when you see me the
next time.

Well, that is the end of the story and we're off to the next
big adventure. Maybe that one will be calmer. I can always
hope so.

Love Ya,

Your idiot brother-Jim









March 11, 2001
Page 7