A Swirling Rose, a Long-Winged Daffodil -- Sincere Gifts from my Sincere Admirer

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When you are 55 years old, and you have worked your way from ensign to full fleet admiral on the science track in just 37 years, you don't get upset about things the way others might.

Still, an attempted murder was a bit much even for me – not so much for me, but because I knew how that was going to play out on Spica 5, where I was born, and on Earth, where my fiance was Not J.T., but still every inch a Captain Kirk.

“I know that she's an admiral but that's still my daughter and our admiral here on Spica 5, and we're not going to stand for her being fed to the horrible beasts on and around Devorandum Aqua – especially the two-legged beasts! Imagine murder wasps disguised as gems being sent to your daughter because she's trying to do the right thing for millions of people! We're not going to stand for this – don't make half of us on Spica 5 get up and come out there and show you how we solve problems when we are done being nice!”

That was my father, Laurence Triefield, with my mother Telluria standing by him and nodding while Mama T'Lari, my grandmother, looked like the whole Vulcan sun about to go supernova. They looked dangerous, and so did my brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and the thousand other colonists from Spica 5 standing behind them. I was both their homegirl and “their admiral,” the pride and joy of Spica 5 and the Spican system, and they were having no nonsense.

(Now if you knew anything about Spica 5 and the people who worked out their hardscrabble existence there, you knew that the chances of all 1,025 people standing there being able to afford a starship that could survive two minutes in the situation in the Voracir System where I was were next to none. But if you knew anything about Spica 5 and the mettle of the people that had settled it, you still knew better than to take that kind of chance, because nobody wanted that much trouble. I was just one of them, and I was too much for the status quo in the Voracir System. 1,025 more coming through? Nobody wanted that kind of trouble.)

By contrast, Marcus Aurelius Kirk Jr., my fiancee, made no noise at all. He just called his fleet captain Cousin J.T. and said, “I need,” and got what he needed, and got moving.

I was minding my own business on Voracir 15, going to a conference there, when I heard a voice behind me.

“Good morning, Admiral.”

I turned around and there stood one of the most handsome young men I had ever seen – and he had surprised me as much this time as he had the first time.

“Mr. Marcus Aurelius, head of Marcus Aurelius Private Security,” he said to me. “We just got the contract to provide private security to you at this event on behalf of a certain august personage who is a great admirer of you.”

Cousin J.T. had basically written him and his new business a pass to the event … who knows how many strings had been pulled and rules had been creatively pressed for flexibility … it was what Kirks did when people they loved were in danger, and Marcus Aurelius Kirk Jr. was as bad as his cousin about it.

Who knows how much money the younger Kirk was giving up to be hovering over me, all that week as I sat down with world leaders from world to world? He was a freighter captain in his permanent business, and time was money – in fact, he and I did not get a moment alone that week, because as soon as he had seen me to the transporter room for me to be safely aboard the Odabella again, he had to run. He had rearranged all his contract runs and was flying back and forth at maximum warp for him (pushing Warp 7.2 and instant disintegration and death), sometimes as much as 21 hours a day to make to those runs and get back to be wherever I was going to be the next day. On the weekend, he was gone entirely, finishing out those contracts, but I did not have meetings that day and so was safely aboard the Odabella.

On Monday that next week, it was decided at last: the Voracir worlds would be evacuated of its sentient beings, and the ecological cycle that had been going on for which Devorandum Aqua was the key would be allowed to complete. The Thuttons had eaten so many gem-jellies that the way was reasonably clear for a mass evacuation with defensive coverage from the fleet I was in command of, and, in two weeks, the Voracir System was clear, not to be entered except for unmanned probes for a year, and off limits to human resettlement for at least 20 years.

On the last day of the evacuation, I found a package in my quarters that had been delivered by express mail … it contained two flowers preserved in clear resin … the first was a swirling rose from Launna 3, and the second a long-winged daffodil from there as well.

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There was a note attached:

“Congratulations, my love, on the great work … and just know I have live plants for you to put in your garden when you get back home. Don't ask me how I did that or anything else I've pulled off in the last three weeks. Just know that there was nothing illegal, immoral, or unethical done – plenty of stupidity and crazy-in-love stuff, but nothing for which you would have to be ashamed as my wife. I'll see you when I get back from my latest series of runs.”

He didn't sign his name, but he didn't have to. I would know his love anywhere in the galaxy.

I called his Cousin J.T. on his off-duty time.

“So, you're out here giving away my location to non-fleet personnel, Captain?” I said, and he chuckled.

“Uh oh,” he said. “You're about to pull rank, aren't you, Admiral?”

“You already know! Where is he?”

Sure enough, my return path to Earth and his latest run intersected … there was just time to surprise him in return … I improvised a buoy and something to put on it out of personal items and left it for him five minutes before he crossed my wake.

He called me as soon as he was done for the day.

“Magnificent, Admirable, Kind, Intentional, Righteous, Knowledgeable, Joyous, and Respected. What does that spell?” he said, reading the plate with a huge grin.

“Why, I believe that spells M.A. Kirk Jr.” I said. “Glad you figured it out.”

His face turned serious.

“You will never know how that absolutely made a tired freighter captain's whole day, week, month, year, lifetime … .”

“Well, it's only fair, given that you have made an admiral's life worth continuing, twice already.”

“I love you, V.T.”

“I love you, Mr. Magnificent, Admirable, Kind, Intentional, Righteous, Knowledgeable, Joyous, and Respected.”

A big tear came to his brown eyes.

“I never thought at age 24 that I would ever feel the way I do right now,” he said. “To have a woman of the highest quality, who thinks that way about me and left it in public – anybody could have seen that buoy!”

“Yes, but they wouldn't have seen what you see, and what I see … because I see you and everything you are doing for yourself and now for us. I see you, Marcus Aurelius Kirk Jr. I know who you are. You keep proving it, over and over again, not to impress me but because you are living who you are. I see you.”

I picked up his gifts to me and displayed them – “Thank you so much for these, and the hilarious note, because that made this victory real!”

I then reached up to my neck and showed him the necklace that he had made for me – finely worked glass on twine – that I had been boldly wearing to all those meetings.

“I could scarcely believe you showed up every day wearing that as part of meetings where decisions were being made for millions of lives!” he said.

“You showed up in person every day to make sure I was safe,” I said, “and although I wear it every day anyway, I surely would have worn it to let you know I know I'm yours.”

“You wear that every day?”

“Every day … obviously adjusted to meet uniform regulations … I bind up my hair with it during the day with the only the edge of the pendant visible, and after work, I put it back on my neck. Kind of how we are living now for discretion … but we are being discreet not because we are ashamed, but because we have something so precious it doesn't need jealous eyes and opinions.”

“Yes,” he said. “Oh, yes.”

He took a deep breath.

“I've got the apartment money,” he said, “because I sat down and did the math and I can afford an apartment in Ohio. I just have been hesitating to say that because that means a daily commute to San Francisco for you during the school year.”

“It's the 23rd century!” I said. “What is that – 30 minutes? Not to mention: you haven't lived admiralty lifestyle yet … but you will. Get home and let's do this – I still will have the house in San Francisco if we want to hang out there over the weekends or I have big modules, and I'll show you how to flip that apartment to the next step in what I already know you're up to!”

He grinned.

“You do see me,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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