We have been invited to a gathering of the diplomatic elite on the planet F-Mihrsej. Jim adamantly did not desire to attend, but his presence is required, as he is one of the guests of honor. Since the broadcast and the news of his many accomplishments, Jim has become quite popular among various political figures in the Federation, in addition to alien worlds.
“If the man wanted ta become president of a planet, he’d just have to bend his little finger and five would come runnin’ offerin’ him to be king of their world,” Leonard grumbled.
His statement is something of an exaggeration, but the number of messages Jim has been receiving over subspace radio has increased exponentially. The first time he opened one of these messages on the bridge, a woman appeared on the viewscreen and declared her everlasting love and devotion to Jim. The message contained several proposals of marriage, including repetitions of the statement “I want to have your gorgeous babies.” Jim sat in his captain’s chair, reddening with embarrassment as the bridge crew around him laughed hysterically. Mr. Scott was literally crying as he watched the video and the captain’s reaction.
“Will you guys just shut up!” Jim said, head in his hands. “Oh god, I’m never gonna live this one down.”
I suspect that Nyota, expressly against Jim’s orders, distributed copies of the message to others. Everyone the ship has seen it and often quotes from the video directly. Jim takes it all in stride, though he was annoyed when Pavel and Sulu began to reenact scene while they were on shift. Pavel pretended to be the woman proposing marriage
“Oh Jim, you are making me wild! Keptan, please, let me be hafing your babies. I want it bad, I want all of your handsomeness Keptan Kirk. And we will be making sweet romance all night—“
While Sulu pretended to be the captain and accept the proposal
“Baby yeah let’s do it I’ll ride you hard oh yeah baby—“
Jim spent the remainder of his shift chasing Sulu and Chekov around the ship, threatening bodily harm to them both. He did not succeed in catching them.
“You guys are dead! You hear me? Dead!” he yelled as I removed the phaser from his grasp.
“Jim,” I looked at him.
“What? It wasn’t funny!”
“I understand that such actions as teasing and ‘making fun’ are forms by which Terrans express their affection for others.”
“So? I know that. It still doesn’t make it funny.”
“After all we have been through, a little humor is not unwelcome.”
“Not when it comes at my expense,” he pouted.
I looked at him. “We have some free time. I believe I promised you that when all our missions were over, we would chess box.”
Jim brightened. “Really? I could go for some chess boxing.”
By the end of two matches, Jim was exhausted but happy. He radiated satisfaction.
I judged it an ideal time to approach him concerning the diplomatic party.
“Fine, I’ll go,” he sighed. “But only if you come down with me.”
“Nyota, Ensign Bollinger and I will accompany you.”
That is how I have found myself in a mansion on the planet F-Mihrsej, faced with a diplomat who seems determined to make every advance towards me as possible. The creature—I am not entirely certain if it is male or female—does not seem to understand any of the nuances of body language. I doubt that it would understand the meaning of ‘no.’ I look around subtlely for Jim, who is also tangled on conversation with a heavyset diplomat, talking about the details of an economic deal between two obscure star systems.
He is bored, that much is certain. The heavyset diplomat does not see this. However, it occurs to me that no one can see that Jim is bored, as he has his captain’s mask firmly in place. He nods and comments intelligently in all the right places. It also occurs to me that our actions mirror each other, as I am also nodding and commenting politely in all the right places while my mind concentrates on Jim.
The meaningless drivel of this diplomat’s idea of conversations goes on for hours. Then, in the corner of my eye, I see Jim neatly disengage himself from his conversation and come towards me.
“I’m sorry, I have to borrow my First Officer for a while,” he says, an edge to his voice.
I look at his hand on my forearm. Frustration, anger, jealousy comes through our contact.
“Jim? Have I done something to upset you?”
“He—she—it—whatever, was coming onto you. It wouldn’t fucking leave you alone.”
“There is no need for you to become offended on my behalf, captain.”
Jim drags me into a dark and empty room.
“Jim, the diplomat of Mycua-tres-liaa will not be amenable to suggestion if we do not accomodate—“
“Fuck diplomacy,” he breathes, pushes me against a wall, and wraps his right hand around the base of my skull.
He kisses me.