April 9th, 2004
|03:58 pm - Confrontation|
He smirked at the question, feeling like he was back at the Academy taking one of the many psychological tests that would determine if he was fit to serve. Dr. McCoy liked to do these little experiments on the crew every now and then, and as long as it didn't require him to take a physical, he was willing to indulge the good doctor's research proclivities.
The Starfleet mandate is to avoid confrontation when possible, use diplomacy as the first line of defense, and flex a Starships' weaponry muscles only as a last resort and only in defense, never attack.
He had sworn to uphold the principles of Starfleet and the United Federation of Planets, but deep-down, he thought that the bureaucrats in San Francisco had no clue about the way things really worked in deep-space. When a peaceful mission can so quickly turn into mind-games by an alien race. Or a trap. How many had he been caught in? How many times had he had to fight his way out? Even when it meant dismissing the Prime Directive. He'd lost count.
But he couldn't say all that.
"Response to confrontation query: I respond to confrontation within the guidelines laid out for Starship Captains by Starfleet Command."
He paused, not able to help the mischevious glint in his eyes or the curl to his lips.
"Whenever possible. End response."
April 2nd, 2004
|02:38 pm - If I could change a moment...|
Through the course of my career in Starfleet I have traveled back in time (more than once), been to the edge of the galaxy and back (again, more than once), and had to make thousands of command decisions that would determine if my crew or even myself would live or die.
And despite all that, despite all the things I could change that would have made my life easier, do you know what I most long to alter? I would have been there for my son.
I had just started to get to know him when the Klingons murdered David on the Genesis planet. My... arrogance, my pride had gotten in the way again. It's why his mother kept him from me in the first place. Not that I noticed. My ship, my crew, my career were all more important.
I had never faced the Kobiashi Maru - the no-win scenario. Not until that day. When the rules didn't suit me, I simply changed them. That day, I learned that I can't control everything. I can't simply change the rules when I want to.
I'd give anything to go back and have learned that lesson while I was still at the Academy. Things might have been different. I might have realized that just because the situation didn't suit me, didn't mean that I was absolved of my responsibility to David. And he might still be alive today.
Current Mood: regretful
March 20th, 2004
|11:56 am - Desert Island|
If I somehow found myself stranded or in exile on a desert island, all I'd need is my tricorder, a good horse, and Spock. I'd be able to find food and water, be able to get around the island, assuming it was large, and Spock and I together could build a shelter and everything we'd need to survive. Besides, Spock is from a desert climate, so he'd be able to adapt easily. Completely logical.
Current Mood: logical
March 2nd, 2004
|03:50 pm - Daydreams, whether I knew I had them or not|
For a moment, Kirk's eyes glaze over as he feels the pull of the long-gone Nexus. He remembers...
There was a farm in Iowa, around October, maybe November and he was outside chopping wood for the stove that was already heating breakfast. The air was sweet with the coming harvest and the smell of the horses that he would ride later that day. But right now, She was waiting for him. And this time, things WOULD be different.
...a jolt of pain slams him back to reality. He is dying. A smile crosses his face as Picard tells him they were successful, and he slips effortlessly back into his forever dream.
February 27th, 2004
|04:59 pm - Memorials and tombstones|
Right now my Starfleet insignia sits on my tomb, a pile of rock on a distant planet. I died performing my last duty... saving the Enterprise, Picard's Enterprise, from destruction.
Which is what I was doing when I died the first time, saving the Enterprise. I suppose Bones and Scotty must have memorialized me then. Then I arrived in the Nexus and for the first time in my life (or death) I put duty aside, until Picard. He needed me to help him save the Enterprise one last time. And I died, separated by time and space from everyone who had mattered to me before, except my Enterprise.
So, my insignia is a fitting tribute, and perhaps, the only one I require.
February 11th, 2004
The computer's flat, but distinctly female voice broke the studious silence of the Captain's quarters.
"If you could pick anyone from history to have dinner with, who would it be and why?"
Kirk took a moment to quirk his eyebrow at the data station, unconsciously entering into a parody of his Vulcan first officer. His fist came up to tap along the edge of his mouth as it often did when he was thinking. Kirk's mind travelled along the vastness of history through all the characters that had intrigued him in his childhood... Twain, Milton, Napolean, Hitler... here he paused remembering a Gateway, a dark street, and the flash of headlights before the scream...
Standing, he shook his head to ward off memories of Her. Both Spock and McCoy had understood, in their own ways. The three of them had certainly seen just about everything together.
Kirk's mind floated back to Vulcan and the time Spock had almost killed him. T'Pau... now there was an historical character he wouldn't mind having dinner with. He smiled and shook his head. "She'd probably tell me my questions were illogical and not answer them."
Funny the way memory works. Thinking of Spock almost always made him think of the time he'd had to court-martial his own first officer and best friend. Spock had hijcaked his ship and set it on a course to a forbidden planet so he could give his former Captain at least the illusion of the life that had been stolen from him. Captain Christopher Pike. First captain of his Enterprise...
"If I could have dinner with anyone it would be Captain Christopher Pike."
Kirk punched a button on the data station to eject the disk where he recorded his personal logs. Thoughtfully turning it over in his hand, he opened the combination storage area behind his chair. He placed the disk almost reverently right next to the one on which the court-martial had been recorded, which included the images of Pike on Talos IV. His fingers lingered on the data disks for just a moment before he stood, straightened his tunic, and set out into the corridor, the whoosh of the door sealing the memories away.
February 1st, 2004
|05:09 pm - I prefer to think of it as decadence... not guilt|
I've never really beleived in guilt, as a rule. It's made me the Captian that I am. I do what needs to be done and I make no excuses for it. Destroying even the love of my life when it was warranted. Breaking every Federation rule to go after Spock. Because it was what needed doing.
But decadence, the things I indulge in when no one else is around? A tall Romulan ale and a first edition of Milton. Perhaps a certain pointy-eared science officer playing his lyre (his own guilty indulgence, though he'd never admit to that). Yes. That would be just about perfect. That's the kind of evening that I could never allow myself to have when duty abounded.
( OOCCollapse )
Current Mood: calm
January 16th, 2004
What's more important -- self-preservation or forgiveness?
I'm not sure I understand the purpose of juxtaposing those two concepts. Is "forgiveness" supposed to mean that we let our enemies march in and take what they want?
I have shown mercy when I might have demanded justice; the Metron let me go because I refused to kill the Gorn captain in single combat, which I suppose some might call forgiveness, given that his people had destroyed a Federation colony. But I didn't think it would be just to kill him when it was unnecessary to do so, after the Metron had manipulated us both into the battle.
On the other hand, I felt nothing but satisfaction in killing the beings that killed my brother and his family, and I had no qualms about abandoning the Scalosians after they threatened to destroy my crew to use for breeding purposes, even though Deela assured me that the survival of my people would mean the extinction of her own. I forgave her once I understood her reasons, but that did not stop me from doing what had to be done.
The Prime Directive sometimes seems very cruel -- we must turn our backs on worlds whose people we might be able to feed, educate and prevent from killing one another, in opposition to the compassion that comes naturally to many of us. But its logic is inarguable: when we interfere, we do more damage to those worlds and to ourselves than we can sometimes imagine. We forgive ourselves for turning our backs, in the name of self-preservation and preservation of the people in those cultures.
Current Music: Everything I Do, I Do It For You
January 15th, 2004
Do you believe in love at first sight?
We've unlocked some of the greatest mysteries of the universe -- the nature of matter, the forces that hold our galaxy together -- but love is one of those wonderful things that I don't believe science will ever be able to explain. Yes, I believe in love at first sight, and it's happened to me more than once; some of the happiest times I've had began with a glance across a room, or even an image on a viewscreen.
Spock and I have discussed this many times, and he insists that I am speaking not of love but of sexual attraction -- he knows the names of all the chemicals in the brain that go along with the feeling. But I think that, in this case, his science has it backward. It's not that sexual attraction and pheremones make the brain release signals that convince us we're in love, it's that something deep makes a connection that the brain recognizes, and only then do the sexual attraction and pheremones kick in. Not that you can't have the attraction without being in love -- I frequently do. But the kind of love that you know is going to happen from the moment you lay eyes on someone? There's no science for that.
Come on, Bones, give me some of your cynical medical wisdom.
Current Music: It Was A Very Good Year
January 4th, 2004
Is there ever a good reason to get blindingly drunk?
I suspect that Spock would tell me the logical answer to this question would be no, except in circumstances where drunkenness might actually save one's life, such as during potential mind control by an alien unable to tolerate alcohol. He has never understood Dr. McCoy's penchant for mint juleps, nor my taste for Romulan ale, though I have convinced him to indulge in a bit on occasion.
I haven't had many opportunities to get blindingly drunk since I took command of the Enterprise. When we're invited to drink during first contact situations, I try to have Bones determine how much of the local brew we can sample before our judgment becomes impaired. There is often alcohol served at formal Starfleet events, unless there are species involved with a high intolerance to alcohol -- it can be lethal to some -- but it's best in such situations to keep my head.
On the other hand, sometimes it is exceedingly helpful to get drunk, at least a little, during situations that might otherwise seem...difficult. When we were stranded on that planet where Spock contracted a virus that simulated the symptoms of pon farr, and I was the only...well, the point being that lowering one's inhibitions can lead to entirely positive results for everyone.