Three Stardates

Stardate 2242.189: Riverside, Iowa

"Get the hell out of this house! When your mom comes back, she can deal with you!"

The screen door of the small farming house on a cropless plot slammed shut, its cheap plastic bouncing off the frame before bending slightly from the impact.

"Go ahead, go. Run away. You think I give a damn?" an overweight, middle-aged man with a drinking problem stumbled after a sixteen-year-old boy. 

"Where are you going?" a small girl with blue eyes and blonde curls came running after the men, confused at this new exchange.

"As far as I can get!" Sam cried.

"Which won't be far enough," their uncle, Frank, taunted. "This is my house, not yours, and not your mothers."

As they got further from the house, Jamie started to panic. She started running to keep up with their fast pace.

"What do you want, Jamie?" Frank yelled, turning his wrath on her.

Sam stopped walking as Frank stopped his pursuit, turning back around to watch his sister. Jamie sputtered for a moment, scared by the looming, angry man, but not enough to back down.

"I just don't want my brother to go."

"Well what you want doesn't matter. You're no one. And I asked you to wash the car. How many damn times do I need to repeat myself?"

Sam, who was previously resolved in his departure, felt the first hint of doubt as Frank caused Jamie to stumble back.

His uncle looked back over at him. "Go," he said, finality in his voice. Frank retreated into the house, confident that Sam would leave, that he would abandon his sister.

Sam took a few angry steps after him, wanting to say something else but the words wouldn't come.

"Please stay," Jamie's voice called from behind him. She had moved to the center of the driveway, blocking his exit.

"I just can't take Uncle Frank anymore. Mom has no idea what he's like when she's not around. Did you hear him talking like he's our dad? That's not even his car you're washing, that's dad's car."

George Samuel Kirk had never been able to adjust to life with his uncle. Unlike Jamie, he could remember their father. Sam knew this wasn't the life Dad would have given them. He hated it when his Mom left Earth, off on some peacekeeping mission. The same type that got Dad killed in the first place.

"You're going to be okay," he told Jamie as she once again tried to match his quick steps. "You always are. You do everything right. Good grades. Obeying every stupid order."

That was the worst, Sam thought. Having to obey that drunk. Kirks weren't made to blindly obey orders. They were made to take leaps, to lead, to question and discover.

"I can't be a Kirk in this house," he concluded, kneeling to look Jamie in the eye. "Show me how to do that and I'll stay."

It was a lot to place on a nine-year-old. Jamie didn't understand yet why their Uncle frank slurred his words so often. She didn't know what that amber and clear liquid did to a man. She didn't care, all she needed was for her brother to stay.

"Don't leave me."

Sam's eyes teared up and his anger once again sparked. "Mom leaves us! Every time she abandons us here with him! I can't do it anymore."

"If you leave you'll be just like her!"

"There is no other way, Jamie." Sam started to walk again.

"Fine!" she screamed, her nose scrunching like it always did when she cried. "Leave! You're right! You can't be a Kirk here because Kirks don't stay!"