Kirk and Spock stood by a street corner, rain beating hard upon their raincoats. A tall sign stood beside them. Bus Stop, it said, Line 57. Every Half hour 7AM-10PM, Weekends every hour. The message was repeated in a multitude of languages. Vulcan was the first Kirk recognized, though he didn't understand it. He looked at his chronometer. 2:41 PM. Damn. Just missed the bus. The street was crowded, cars zipping by. More then once Spock was showered by street water flung up by a car too close to the curb.

Tightly bundled pedestrians wearily went about their business, rushing across crosswalks, stooping to pick up their umbrellas, going to places only they cared to know. Kirk found himself wishing he had an umbrella as a sheet of water was thrown at him by a passing SUV. 2:53. Visibility was low at best, as was morale. But city life goes on. 3:05. Where the hell is that bus?!, thought Kirk mildly annoyed, and cold. The raincoat proved ineffective against the raging tyrant of a storm, wind throwing down pellets almost horizontally. 3:15. The bus was very late now. Leave it to Seattle, thought Kirk. He mused about how comfortable the coffee shop across the street looked. If it wasn't warm, it was at least dry. And coffee... Any hot liquid would do, though. Tea, Chai, Hot Chocolate Milk. With a sigh of regret he forced the image out of his mind. The bus was bound to come soon. 3:30. Or maybe not. 3:36, Kirk was pondering how exactly he would write his dissatisfaction letter. Short and straight to the point, or-- Presently a gray-and-black bus with a 57 on the top (next to destination: StarFleet School of Law) turned the corner, spraying the small crowd who had gathered there once again with water. At least I'll be out of the rain now, thought Kirk. He was about to get on, when Spock said:

"The bus appears to be 'packed like sardines'. I would suggest waiting for the next bus, which can not be all that far behind."

Kirk swore under his breath. Another hope torn asunder. Anyway, Spock's right, he thought, for after the bus had left another turned the corner, this one nearly empty. He climbed wearily onto it, deposited his money, and sat down. It was warm. And dry. Perhaps life wasn't so bad after all! But then he heard voices.

"Whadaya mean you're a few weeks old?! I can see that you're at LEAST 30! Pay or get off!"

It was happening again. And Kirk didn't quite desire being back in the rain and cold. "Let it go, Spock," he said.

"Captain, I fail to see why I should pay more than I am legally required to pay." Kirk groaned. "Furthermore," continued Spock, "I fail to see why no one believes me why I say I am but a few weeks old."

"Have you ever heard of Project Genesis?" Kirk asked the bus driver.

"No, can't say I have..." replied the bus driver warily. "But you're holding me up. Pay up, or get off!"

"That is why," said Kirk, getting up to pay for Spock. It had started to rain harder, and the growing dark outside was looking rather ominous.

45 minutes later they got off the bus. They were heading to some restaurant that Kirk went to when he was at the university for nostalgia reasons, and to celebrate being demoted to captain. The two rushed inside, and soon found a place to sit. They were having a conversation about time travel and its hidden effects, when the waiter strolled over, handing them menus. Spock quickly handed his back. Kirk groaned again. The waiter, a Vulcan, raised her eyebrow at Spock. "I would like a children's menu," he explained. The waiter was obviously confused.

"I am a but few weeks ol-" he started.

Kirk quickly interrupted with, "He's new here, so he thought it would be fitting to eat off of the children's menu."

"Lying will not improve the situation, Captain." Spock responded, flatly, thus giving away his confusion.

"Like the truth will help..." thought Kirk, grimacing.

"As I was saying, I am but a few weeks old, thus you should give me the children's menu."

The waiter, though skeptical, did as she was told. She turned to walk away when Spock said, "Waiter, I must complain about the distinct lack of salads on this menu."

"It is a human children's menu." responded the waiter, annoyed. It had been a long day, and it was obviously about to get worse. "Human children don't eat salads. They eat fries and hamburgers."

"Hrm." responded Spock, logging the information into the supercomputer that was his brain. So Spock got a adult menu again, and got a salad, and all was good. From his perspective.

But not from Kirk's. Them conversation had turned a few heads, and he felt rather uncomfortable. So he quickly ate his food and left.

They were outside again, and the rain was coming down harder than ever. Raindrops were big and heavy, and some of them stung. The wind shook at them mercilessly. And worse yet, they had once again missed the bus. So they took refuge inside a store. Pete's Firearms. Kirk walked slowly around the shelves, peering over this phaser, or that energy pack. There was very little space to move about, the heat was out, and the one fluorescent bulb that had not burned out was ever so slightly flickering.

He was studying a new kind of phaser, when he became aware of a pair of eyes drilling into his back. He turned around swiftly, and looked into the eyes of the clerk. "Pete" was on his name-tag. His hair was in tangles, and his shirt was dirty. He was surrounded by stacks upon stacks of Starfleet Monthly, Military Bi-Weekly, and Starship Specs.

'Oh god,' thought Kirk, 'A military nut'.

"I can not sell you a weapon. I suggest you leave, Kirk," he said.

Kirk recoiled in surprise. "Why?" he asked.

"Because," said the fanboy, "you just got court-martialed."

"You know that already?!" asked Kirk, startled. "It was only a few hours ago!"

"I have my ways. Unimportant. The fact is that YOU got court- martialed. Yer sorry yer such a misfit now, eh?"

"I WANTED a demotion!"

"Sure. But I can't sell you a weapon."

"Why do I want a weapon?"

"Because a criminal needs a weapon. I will not sponsor terrorism."

Kirk groaned. "I have access to many far more powerful guns. I'm not here for... for THAT rusted cylinder!" he said pointing at a phaser rifle.

The argument turned to the weapons, and then to Starfleet in general. Kirk was losing again and again to the fan-boy. It was really humiliating, and Spock was of no help. He was too absorbed in examining an antique pistol. Finally the bus came, and he slunk out. On the bus Spock once again began to protest being forced to pay, but by then the rain had stopped, and Kirk was really irritated.

"Ya know what?" he said bitterly, "What do you say we walk?"

The End

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