Star Trek and its characters are the property of Paramount. This not-for-profit piece of fan fiction is not intended to infringe on that ownership. The author's copyright applies only to the creative content and her original characters.
This story is one in a series about the relationship between James Kirk and Suzanne Brandt. The Kirk-Brandt Chronology lists all the stories, both in order of occurrence and order of creation.
Captain Kirk settled into the center seat on the bridge of the Federation starship Enterprise. He'd been her captain for less than three months, and he still thought of her that way.
The Federation starship Enterprise. Aah.
"Captain." The voice of Lieutenant Uhura pulled him out of his reverie.
"We're being hailed, sir. A Federation scoutship. The USS Wozniak."
Kirk sat up a little straighter, suppressing a grin. At the navigator's station, Commander Gary Mitchell turned toward the captain, not bothering to hide his delight.
"Put her on screen, Lieutenant."
The screen flickered and displayed an puckish face that neither Kirk nor Mitchell had seen in nearly two years.
"This is the Federation starship Enterprise, Captain James T. Kirk commanding. Are you in need of assistance, Wozniak?"
Kirk congratulated himself on his opening gambit. With this particular friend, it never hurt to get the upper hand. A dig at her abilities, as well as a none-too-subtle reminder that, although she got her command two and half weeks before he did, he had a starship. And in some things, size *does* count.
"Captain Suzanne Brandt here. No, we are not in need of assistance, Enterprise," she said evenly. "But we could use some entertainment."
"What do you have in mind, Captain Brandt?"
"We're mapping an uninhabited class M planet in your sector, Captain Kirk, and it has a large, open field that's just begging for a game of baseball."
She smiled in friendly invitation, but Kirk knew a challenge when he heard one. He turned to his first officer.
"Mr. Spock. Estimated time to reach the Wozniak's current position."
"At present speed, one-point-six-two hours, sir."
"Thank you, Mr. Spock." He turned back to the screen. "Two hours, Captain Brandt."
"Very good. We'll send you the coordinates. Brandt out."
The screen flickered, and Kirk found himself once again watching the stars trail by.
"Mr. Mitchell, lay in a course to the Wozniak. Mr. Spock, have the ship's computers analyze all personnel records for baseball experience. I want our best on that field."
The Vulcan's fingers ran lightly over the controls, as he contemplated the latest addition to a list of illogical requests from this most fascinating of humans.
Two hours later, Captain Kirk and Commander Mitchell beamed down to the planet, accompanied by Lieutenants Riley and Rodriguez. They were soon joined by the other crewmen slated to represent the Enterprise in the upcoming contest.
A lithe female figure carrying a baseball bat sprinted across the field toward them.
Kirk pointed and said, "Thar she blows."
"My god, Jim," Mitchell gasped. "Look at her."
Kirk chuckled. "Our little girl's growing up."
He remembered the first time he'd seen Brandt at the Academy. After admiring a nicely rounded bottom, he'd been disappointed to see that the rest of the owner of said bottom had the physical attributes of a scrawny urchin. Over the years, that had changed, but the early impression had lingered in his mind. And now, as Kirk watched her approach, he was struck by how nicely rounded everything was. And how well it was displayed by the Academy t-shirt and running shorts. The effect was noteworthy, and almost certainly deliberate.
"My grandfather had an expression, Gary. She's gunnin' for b'ar."
At that moment, Captain Brandt dropped the bat and threw herself into a hug with both men.
"You two haven't changed a bit!" she laughed.
"You have," Mitchell said, squeezing her tightly. "You've put on a little weight. And in all the right places."
She frowned. "I don't know if I should thank you or deck you."
She turned to Captain Kirk, her hands on her hips. He matched her stance as they sized each other up.
"So, Captain Brandt. How are things on your toy spaceship? Amazing what they're doing nowadays with legos, isn't it, Commander Mitchell?"
"It sure is, Captain," Mitchell picked up his cue smoothly. "I hear they're going to paint all the scoutships pink, so they'll match the rest of Barbie's vehicles."
Captain Brandt chuckled dangerously.
"Gentlemen. To quote the late, great Joan Crawford--"
"'Don't fuck with me, fellas.'"
"Oooo, now I'm scared," Kirk teased.
Her eyes narrowed as she smiled at him. "I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to whipping your big, clumsy, Constitution-class asses."
Gary let out a low whistle. His grandfather had an expression, too. She's cruisin' for a bruisin'.
"Care to make it interesting, Captain?" Kirk asked.
"First let's see some ID, James T-for-Tot Kirk."
"Two cases," Kirk upped the ante, wondering how old she had to be before she stopped enjoying the fact that he was nearly two years younger than she was.
Mitchell turned away to conceal his delight that the Brat could still needle Kirk in a way that he couldn't. He couldn't help being pleased to see his CO reminded of the years when, as the junior member of their trio, he'd been referred to as "Kid."
He was startled out of these pleasant thoughts as he looked across the field at the opposing team. He was an avid sports fan, and, the more closely he looked at Brandt's players, the more concerned he became.
"Captain Kirk," he said in a low tone.
"Why not three cases?" Brandt goaded.
"Captain Kirk," Mitchell repeated more urgently.
"You're on." Kirk extended his hand and the two captains shook on the bet.
Mitchell pulled his captain aside and said, "Can you afford to lose three cases of Romulan ale?"
"I don't think I like that attitude, mister."
Kirk played many sports, but followed none.
"She's got two former Amateur Galactic All-Stars," Mitchell explained.
Kirk turned to his opponent, frowning.
"Whatever are you talking about?"
"You've got two All-Stars over there."
"Actually, I have three," she replied calmly. "And as for your allegation--they were all onboard the Wozniak when I took command. Captain Hyoshi was a big sports fan. And, if it weren't so laughable, I would resent the implication that I can't beat you without cheating. However, if it will make you more comfortable, I'll have them stand down."
"No, you don't. You're not going to spoil my victory by saying I didn't let you choose your own players."
She shrugged amiably. "Have it your way."
With a sinking feeling, Kirk realized he'd played right into her hands.
"Now," she continued brightly. "We need an umpire."
Both captains turned to their former classmate.
"Oh no. No way," Mitchell sputtered. "I'm not refereeing the two of you. Never again. Forget it."
"Commander Mitchell," Kirk cajoled. "As a personal favor? To your captain?"
Mitchell grimaced and conceded with as much grace as he could muster.
"Isn't it fun outranking your friends?" Brandt bubbled. "Or should I say 'friend.' I keep forgetting you only have the one."
"Aren't you my friend?" he asked as he caught it and they began the traditional hand-over-hand.
"Yes, of course I am. But you don't outrank me." She neatly eagle-clawed the top. "We'll bat first."
Kirk gestured graciously toward home plate. "Age before beauty."
"Pearls before swine," she retorted and sauntered away.
Mitchell rolled his eyes and muttered, "Play ball."
The Wozniak's team scored twice in the first inning, and the Enterprise's first batter approached the plate with determination. On the second pitch, Christine Chapel sent the ball soaring deep into the trees beyond the field. Then she casually trotted around the bases, as Wozniak's outfield searched for the ball.
"Good work," Kirk congratulated her as she rejoined her cheering teammates.
"Thank you, sir. Feels good to play again." Seeing his puzzled expression, she explained, "Four-year baseball scholarship at the University of Michigan."
Kirk laughed, suddenly feeling three cases of Romulan ale richer.
By the fourth inning, the umpire was sweating profusely. And it wasn't that hot.
Jesus Christ. Don't they know it's just a game?
But it was never just a game, not with those two. The competition between them had always been fierce, and now it infected the other players. Every point was hard-won, and nothing went uncontested. And, to make matters worse, most of the off-duty personnel had beamed down, and the cheers and boos from the spectators egged the players on.
The score was five to five, and the Wozniak had a runner on second. On the pitcher's mound, Kirk squinted at the batter, determined to turn her two strikes into three. She edged in and he pulled back.
"Mitchell! Wake up!" he yelled. "She's crowding the plate!"
The umpire assessed the situation. Technically, yes, Brandt was crowding the plate. But he wasn't about to tell her to suck in her bosom.
Kirk also assessed the situation. Gary may be too chicken to do something about this, he thought, but I'm not.
He strode to the plate and said in a low voice, "Brandt. Pull those back. Or I'll knock 'em off."
She turned to the umpire with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. Mitchell cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"If you wouldn't mind, Captain Brandt."
"Of course, Commander. How's this?" She stepped back.
"Thank you, Captain," Mitchell smiled in relief.
Kirk returned to the mound and turned to see Brandt shaking her behind as she bent over the plate. He knew that many batters did that to settle into their stance, and he was absolutely sure that was *not* why she did it.
"Right back at you, Brat-I-mean-Brandt," he said and hurled a breaking curve ball.
The next thing he knew, she was on second base, and the score was six to five.
Bottom of the ninth. Ten-nine, Wozniak's favor. Two outs on the Enterprise.
Lieutenant Kevin Riley nervously approached the plate. All I need is a single, he reminded himself. That'll tie it up, and this will be someone else's problem.
"Bring me home, Riley," Kirk whispered as he waited impatiently at third base.
Brandt crouched behind home plate and pounded the palm of her catcher's glove. "Right here, Jack! Easy out!"
On the pitcher's mound, the best of Brandt's near-ringers nodded solemnly. Lieutenant Commander Jack Wallis was determined not to let his captain down.
The umpire bit his lip. What had he done to deserve this torture? He knew what was going to happen. Riley would get a hit. Kirk would race for home. Brandt would reach for the ball that would be hurtling toward her glove. And then--
Let it be obvious, he prayed silently. I don't care who wins. Safe or out, it doesn't matter to me. Just don't make me make the call.
In Mitchell's mind, the play had the sick, slow-motion quality of a nightmare.
Riley hit a line drive, and Kirk took off to the roar of the spectators. The ball bounced past the shortstop and was retrieved by the left fielder, who hurled it to the pitcher. Brandt stood with one foot on the plate, leaning forward and screaming, "Come on! Come on!" The pitcher threw the ball, and Kirk threw himself toward home.
Heart pounding, Mitchell waited for the dust to clear. And when it did, he saw Brandt on the ground with her legs spread wide, and Kirk face down in her crotch. Like a true over-achiever, he'd outshot the mark.
Intent on the play, neither captain noticed their crews' uproarious laughter or what was causing it.
Brandt retrieved the ball from her glove and tapped Kirk on the head with it.
"That was three cases of Romulan ale, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was," Kirk replied. "When can I expect delivery?"
Both turned to Mitchell. "Call it!"
Mitchell opened his mouth, his heart sinking. "Uh..."
At that instant, both captains' communicators beeped, and they quickly turned away to respond.
Less than a minute later, the game was forgotten as the two commanders ordered everyone back to the ships.
"All right, people, let's go!"
"Move it, move it! Game's over."
Mitchell moved to Kirk's side. "What is it, Captain?"
"The Klingons just tested a new weapon. The entire fleet's on standby."
Mitchell barely managed to keep himself from muttering, "Thank god." Somehow the possibility of galactic war didn't seem as threatening as what he had just been facing.
He turned and was pulled into a hug by Captain Brandt. She couldn't have said why she did it, but less than a year later, she would be glad she did.
"Take care, all right?" She pulled back and looked at him sternly. "I don't want to hear that you two didn't have the sense to get out of the way of a photon torpedo."
"Understood, Captain." He squeezed her hands and said in a low voice, "And just between the two of us..." He nodded toward Captain Kirk. "He was out."
She grinned at him. "Thanks, Gary."
She turned to Kirk, who was issuing orders into his communicator. Suddenly seeing him as the captain of the flagship and knowing what that would mean in a conflict with the Klingons, she was uncomfortably reminded of that long-ago day when he beat the Kobayashi Maru. Although she'd been relieved when he wasn't expelled and had enthusiastically joined in the celebration, she thought his explanation for his action was preposterous. She'd told him so privately, and he'd laughed and said, "Brat, you're the last person I would expect to mother-hen me. You must be getting soft."
His intentional misinterpretation of her concern had infuriated her, as she later realized it was meant to do. But at the time, it had very effectively ended the discussion.
As Kirk closed his communicator, she decided to give it another try and touched his arm.
"Jim, I know this is a waste of breath, but try not to do anything too harebrained, all right? There *is* such a thing as a no-win situation."
She twisted her hair in frustration. He still believed it was *his* universe.
"And I would love to stand here and argue personal philosophies with you," he continued, "but there isn't time. My starship's double-parked."
"Oh, Jim," she sighed. "You're such a jerk."
"I don't have time to argue that either," he said with good-natured finality. "What will the Wozniak be doing in all this?"
"What a scoutship does best. Zip around and annoy the enemy any way we can."
"Well, they certainly picked the right woman for the job."
They shook hands, briefly exhibiting the admiration and respect that was usually carefully hidden behind teasing remarks and practical jokes.
Brandt hesitated over the next move, but Kirk didn't. He pulled her into an embrace and whispered, "I expect a rematch."
She removed herself from his arms, and they taunted each other one last time.
Smiling, Kirk watched her jog across the field toward her crew. Then he and Mitchell moved toward the nearest Enterprise beam-up formation.
"I thought you'd like to know, sir--and please keep this confidential--you were safe."
Kirk suppressed all but the hint of a satisfied smile. "Thank you for telling me, Commander."
Taking his place among his crewmates, Gary remembered another of his grandfather's favorite sayings.
It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game.
He couldn't help being pleased with how well he had played Monkey in the Middle.
I'd love to hear from you! Please use my Guestbook to leave story feedback. Your guestbook entry can be public or private. You can also sign up to receive new stories by email.
If you navigated to this story from anywhere on my website, that window is probably still open right behind this one. If you navigated to this story from anywhere else, please visit Invisible Planets for more of my stories.