Monday’s Child
DATE: February 21, 2000
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Over on ASCEM we were challenged to write a story to
welcome Pamela’s child into the world. Jat-Sapphire wrote a light-hearted piece
featuring Rand and for the second time, that touched off a Rand story of my
own. This piece owes a bit of a debt to Jat’s “Day
Care Room“ and I’m grateful to her for allowing its use as a dream in the
back of Janice’s mind and for her quick beta.
Congratulations, Pam, on your “Monday Child!” (although as it turns out little
Nikita was born on Tuesday and is therefore full of grace.)
© Rabble Rouser 2000
v v v
Janice Rand held her breath as she held tiny Demora Sulu in her arms. She
stared in fascination as the newborn yawned, looking like a little bird begging
for food. Once babies had all looked alike to her, but now she was able to pick
out the woman Demora would someday become from studying those delicate
features.
She would, Janice thought, make a beautiful woman. She felt that she had never
quite had this kind of beauty. Janice believed her chin was too short and her
nose a tad too long. She had not been born so “fair of face,” and her hunger
for that kind of approval had made her put too much energy, when she was
younger, into “acting beautiful.” She hoped that Demora would have a more
graceful passage into a confident adulthood than she had.
Chapel put a hand on her shoulder. “C’mon, kid—share the wealth. I want some
time myself.” Janice smiled and put Demora into Chris’ capable hands. A glow
lit Chris’ features as Demora slid into her arms. Janice was struck all over
again how good a mother Chris would make, if only she could move on. She had
taken Spock’s retreat into Gol all the more personally because it had nothing
to do with her. It underlined again, as if there was any need for it, how
little Chris counted in Spock’s life.
Not that anyone seemed to have counted. Chris admitted that McCoy had told her
Spock had left without a word to either him or the Captain. Janice had thought
that there had been a closeness, an easiness between Chris and McCoy, that
could have developed into something more. But then, neither would settle for
being second choice.
Frank was that to her—but she could hope he didn’t know it. Actually in a sense
he was third, but at least she had the good sense not to ruin her friendship
with Sulu by becoming his lover. She had studiously ignored every signal until
Sulu had backed away without a hint of hurt. Six months later Sulu was married.
Jim Kirk had gotten married practically as soon as the Enterprise docked.
Janice had gone to the wedding with Nyota and Chris, acted too perkily cheerful
to fool either of them, and then tried unsuccessfully to get drunk. She had
seen Lori’s possessive hand on Kirk’s arm and smiled more brightly as the knife
twisted. She knew Lori and Kirk had barely dated.
Janice thought savagely that they could be married thirty years and would never
share the connection Jim Kirk had with anyone who had ever served under him.
Janice had that, at least—even if nothing more. She felt no satisfaction as she
saw Kirk grow more tautly miserable and withdrawn every time she had seen him
since. They would greet each other and she could read the plea in his eyes for
her to say nothing as he saw in hers that he could never fool her. A groundhog
like Lori could never understand what bound the Enterprise people to each other—or
understand that grounding someone like Kirk would slowly hollow him out.
Five years away from the Enterprise, and it still defined family for her. She
had never broken the thread of friendship between her and Chris and Nyota, and
as soon as the mission ended two years ago, they had reentered each other’s
lives as if the bond had deepened naturally with daily contact over the years.
It seemed as if no other ties—her time since in Officer’s Candidate School—her
posting to another ship, had ever touched her.
But then she knew that that her time on the Enterprise would never leave her.
She had been afraid when she entered officer’s training that she would always
be marked as a “mustang,” someone who had risen from the ranks and not quite
the equal of an academy graduate. But Chris had been right—instead, everywhere
she went, it was the same. “You know, Janice served on the Enterprise—with
Captain Kirk.” To her amazement, that intimidated the hell out of everybody—and
gave her an edge to regain her equilibrium before anyone noticed how unsure she
was.
Now, it seemed, the three of them would be serving together again. She and
Chris and Nyota had all received orders assigning them to the Enterprise once
the ship’s refitting was complete. Strictly speaking, her slot as transporter
chief was not an officer’s posting, but she had been on the engineering track
with a specialty in transporter science, and she had grabbed at the chance to
return “home.” How could it ever be the same, though, without him in the center
seat?
But then, what was the same? Jim Kirk married without Spock or McCoy at his
side at the wedding, Sulu a husband and father, Chris a doctor and about to
step into McCoy’s old shoes...and she? It seemed everyone around her was
getting married and having children as if, if they didn’t hurry now, the supply
of perfect spouses and children would run out. Now it would be her turn.
Frank had asked her last weekend to marry him and she had said yes without
hesitation. She loved Frank in her own way, although not with the hopeless
intensity with which she loved Jim Kirk, and with the knowledge that Frank
loved her so much more than she could ever love him back. And that felt good.
It felt good to be loved more than she loved. Frank wanted children right away,
and she told him she’d think about it. The idea gave her nightmares—literally.
Last night she had dreamed she was trapped in some alternate universe day care
center taking care of the old Enterprise crew transformed into toddlers. She
particularly remembered a two-year old Jimmy Kirk who refused to be taken care
of or kept safe or held onto for long. But then, when had Jim Kirk ever let
himself be taken care of?
Frank would allow it, she knew. And that felt good too—knowing that someone
would let her love him, let her claim ownership, and lavish care. He even
insisted that having a family would not interfere with her posting to the
Enterprise. She could tell he lied. She knew that Frank hoped a child would
bind her to him the way her time on the Enterprise bound her. She knew it irked
him that she would drop everything if someone who once served on that ship
needed her. No, she guessed that Frank knew he didn’t come first.
In some ways she felt a deeper bond with Chekov, who had been posted on the
Enterprise after she left, and who she had not met until after the five-year
mission ended. She had noticed Frank watching the two of them trading stories
about serving with Kirk and being able to complete each other’s sentences as if
they had been raised together. She saw Frank frown when she doubled up howling
as Chekov told the story about the tribbles. Janice wiped away tears of
laughter and shot Frank an apologetic look. She winced as she saw him turn
away, obviously feeling excluded.
Frank must think that a child would be the way to tie her down firmly. She
looked at Demora over Chris’ shoulder and thought how unfair it was to impose
such baggage on someone so helpless. Is it ever fair? When is any parent worthy
of the burden of shaping a human life? She knew suddenly that she would tell
Frank yes—and that it would be the cruelest and most selfish act of her life.
Because nothing could stop her from reaching out again to the stars. She was
already feeling the sense of restlessness she always felt when she was grounded.
Uhura was probably right when she said people like them were better off without
families—at least from the point of view of the families. You don’t ground an
eagle—even when there are eaglets in the nest.
The End.
Please write to me and let
me know what you thought.