Rebuilding the Enterprise is a massive undertaking - not as massive as it would have been three years ago, given the existence of Yorktown and its impossibly advanced construction bays, but this is still a rebuild from complete scratch, far eclipsing even the extensive repairs she's had in the past. And, Jim thinks with a bittersweet (heavy on the bitter) pang, it was probably time for a complete rebuild even if she hadn't been so thoroughly destroyed. Those were no simple patch-jobs after Nero or Marcus - the mileage on the flagship has, frankly, been brutal. A familiar thought: wondering if it's his fault, if the Enterprise would have survived her first five year journey under another captain, or if instead the universe continues to hurl him and his crew on all these collision courses because they're the only ones who can handle them.
He doesn't stay on the starbase for the entire duration of construction, but for long bouts at the beginning and end; he'll know her inside and out this time, every panel, ever nerve, every expanse of glass and insert of cabin carpet. He scratches For Christopher on the floor of the bridge before the final covering goes in, barely a centimeter high, never to be seen by anyone but him.
( +1 )
Hey guess what Yorktown has: bars!! Probably a bunch of them. Jim's not the drinker he used to be, but he's still definitely a drinker. He's also not the Lothario he used to be, either, but you know, old habits.
( +2 )
San Fransisco is Captain Kirk's temporary home for several months, doing guest lectures at the Academy and terrorizing cadets of all kinds. He teaches a month-long survival course, even, which involves dragging a senior class into the woods and scaring the shit out of them with stories of everyone nearly dying all the time up in the black.
( +3 )
It's not like he's on vacation, though. Starfleet Command sends several missions down the tubes and Jim runs them with the same dogged adventurism he runs his ship. Who wants to go check in on a wayward science team?
Lucy McClane is... well, that's difficult to quantify. He father is well-known in Starfleet - when Lucy was practically still in diapers he saved the ship he was stationed on from attack. By himself. Barefoot, for some reason. He'd been a hero. But he was also rash, and troubled, and got himself into more sticky messes (and the aftermath's insubordinations) than he really should have. As a result his history was rocky. He'd get dismissed, then called back when someone needed him again. As much as he complained, he always came through in the end. He just has a reputation.
Lucy isn't brand new. She graduated the academy at the top of her class but since then she's been ping-ponged around between postings and assignments because no one seems to believe she's calmer and more in-tune with taking orders than her father, no matter how much she protests the idea. She doesn't have heroics under her belt to get her a solid assignment. She blames John, perhaps unfairly, and because of this their relationship is often on the outs. She tries to distance herself from him, from his name, going so far once as to briefly change her registration to her mother's maiden name, Gennero.
Problem is, she really is exactly like her father. Sure, she's willing to do anything to get the job done, but there's an idea that floats around about an inability to maintain order in her vicinity. She works hard. It's just that being in the wrong place at the wrong time runs in the family. Which is why she's surprised to be given the assignment she is - with who she is, but she thinks that maybe shoving her toward Captain James Kirk is some kind of last-ditch effort at maybe you'll take her. Checking in on a wayward science team isn't supposed to be much of an issue - shouldn't be, anyway, hopefully - but somehow she still has a sense of nervous energy about her despite hardly being fresh out of the Academy.
It's not like Jim tells Command Send me the crazy ones, it's cool-- and not the opposite, either; he doesn't say much of anything about the pool new members of his crew comes from, figuring he's annoying TPTB enough as it is on a regular basis. Up front, anyway. He's demanded certain recruits back after transfer and kicked other ones out, all ordinary crew management business. Unordinary is the fact that he knows names, faces, favorite drinks, Academy grades, dating woes, of all one hundred and fourteen of them.
He knows Command thinks it was smugness, the fact that he hadn't lost a single crew member in all that time, and not the fierce, hard-won pride it was. Not pride in himself. Pride in everyone. And then the USS Vengeance happened (what a name), and Krall... no, Edison. Hundreds lost, both times. Now, welcoming aboard new additions (replacements) to the crew is a sobering experience.
The construction break gives Jim a unique opportunity to meet and vet potential transfers before they're locked in - though honestly, he's not much inclined to fuss with what's made its way to his (virtual) desk. On (digital) paper it's the usual mix of excellent cadets scoring well enough to warrant time on the flagship and proactive junior officers being put to more demanding work. He's not sure exactly where Ensign McClane falls on that particular spectrum just yet, but he figures by the time they've made their hike to the remote viewing cabin where Doctor Mills should be, he'll have figured it out.
"I bet this guy's an asshole," he muses after a few minutes of silence. Who else gets punted out to the sticks when you're already in the sticks? Aren't scientists supposed to all get along? Nerd bonding, or something.
The worst part of Lucy's issues are that she knows why it's happening. If she were blissfully unaware that she was being shipped around because people think she's nuts, she wouldn't have to care. But it just makes her angry and frustrated in turns. She wants to get in good, somehow, somewhere, but there's always some reason. She thinks she probably just rubs a lot of people the wrong way. If this opportunity works out though, she'll be glad enough for it. Which is an understatement. She doesn't seem like she fits in with either group quite well enough, like a slightly oval block trying to fit into a perfectly round space. Almost, but not quite.
She's a little worried she'll fuck this up, honestly. She sure as hell isn't going home with her tail between her legs even if she does, but it still feels like her last chance at proving that she really can before someone tries to lock her into a dead-end desk job someplace that she won't be a liability. When he speaks her reply is automatic. "Thankfully, Captain, I'm used to dealing with assholes." Wry. Thankfully it doesn't sound like she's talking about her earlier commanding officers. Probably. She has the same kinds of speech patterns as John too, which is usually funny for anyone familiar with him in any capacity since the same quips coming out of a twenty-something woman with hair is something people seem to think is amusing.
He probably is an asshole though, she thinks. It isn't as though Lucy minds having to slough out to this fabled viewing cabin in the middle of nowhere but it's still a little much picking their way through, like they've tried to get him as far out of the way as possible. She understands the sentiment. "Well, either an asshole or one of those real reclusive types." Married to science and unable to socialize with anyone, or a jerk. Or both. Both's a possibility. Now she genuinely wonders which option it is, and some of that nervousness seems to have left her or at least gotten sorted away somewhere invisible as they continue.
But seriously, maybe she should not continue talking because it always gets her in trouble.
And at most of his classes, there's a gentleman in a rather strange looking version of the Starfleet uniform who settles into the back, leaning into his seat thoughtfully as he listens. He seems somewhat serious for the most part, but every once in a while, he cracks a smile and even at times, an all out grin.
'Rather strange' is a day ending in y around these parts, but that doesn't mean unfamiliar uniforms attached to familiar places are routine enough to go unnoticed.
It takes Jim more days than he'd like to be able to catch up - his superiors are really working his time on Earth down to the last minute - but he does, eventually, catch up. He falls in step alongside the other man one day after his lecture is dismissed, though for a while, he says nothing.
Eventually,
"Q didn't send you here, did he?"
Well.
Jim can't help that his tone of voice has too many layers. Wry exasperation, buried, darker ire over the subject of his inquiry, but there's unmistakable relief and fondness. Like he's speaking to someone he already knows.
The extensive rebuilding of the Enterprise ought to be a time to breathe, and perhaps back to back meetings, commissions, diplomatic visitations, reports, consultations still constitute as downtime when you consider the kinds of adventures that mark up the terrain of Spock's Starfleet career under Jim's captaincy. Suffice to say they all find ways to keep busy, together and apart. For instance: the day that Spock arrives on Yorktown after accompanying a diplomatic envoy to the Vulcan colony is met with administrative settling, catching up on paperwork, an interception by Nyota, a debrief as to his last venture, and a subsequent assignment for a routine six month check-in on a science excursion bordering the neutral zone. An assignment that would put him amidst familiar faces once again.
Ergo, awaiting the construction of the Enterprise is not, in fact, a time to breathe, but on his way through the docks, Spock finds one anyway. The ship has made astounding advances in the time he has been away from Yorktown, and he stands in place as he regards the impressive shape of what would be, a tall, serene presence in the bustle of the space station.
In isolation, a twinge of sentiment is analysed, filed away, buried. Probably no one saw it.
Jim lets him go for a while, actually; he spies his first officer when he's en route to engineering with breakfast for Scotty and Keenser, who of course haven't taken the same breaks from Yorktown as everyone else. He's spent a lot of time down there himself, watching her knit together with steel and plasma. You're an engineer at heart, an instructor at the Academy had told him once, and he didn't know what to say; sure, he gets it, he really gets the science and machinery and the metal muscle and art of it all, but he feels pulled in so many directions. Every direction.
"I thought about getting you a 'Vulcan Mocha'," says a familiar voice, edging into roughness from his typical sleep deprivation, "but I don't think it was actually Vulcan."
He comes to stand beside Spock and offers the man a covered up of plain black coffee. Boring and utilitarian, like Jim drinks it.
Know what's in bars? - Nyota, sometimes, usually with Jim. Like now, leaning her elbows up against the high standing table they've acquired (there aren't chairs, because they have not yet accepted that they're too old for dance clubs, but they are upstairs overlooking the floor where they can actually hear themselves), a few empty shot glasses scattered across it and the half-empty glass she's still drinking from when she opens with -
"-I have definitely explained the bro code to him," Jim answers, immediate and serious, because he handles all situations with the exact amount of gravity they deserve. "Four times, probably. But he was always looking at me like I was speaking another language and he was trying to figure out what planet the word 'brohcoed' came from."
He knocks back the shot portion of his boilermaker (because you can take the delinquent out of rural Iowa, and so on) before leaning his forearms on the table, snagging his beer bottle with the ends of his fingers, almost idle. Jim knows he's here because Spock is being even more of a dick than usual, but he also knows that Spock really and truly tries his best. But he knows that Nyota knows he knows. You know, finally.
"So." So. "Did he come clean or did Chekov crack?"
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed is meant to get on a shuttle to get on a ship to get to Yorktown to join the crew of the (in)famous Enterprise once she's rebuilt properly. But he's got time enough to hang around the city, enough spare time to actually...spare. He doesn't care to not have something to do, therefore: recon.
Everyone knows of Captain Kirk, James T., fastest climb to captaincy in Starfleet history, always finding creative ways around situations that may or may not flagrantly break the rules set in place. Still, settling himself into the back of a class for one of his guest lectures, Malcolm is surprised at how young the man looks. Despite the years and the events, there's still a youthful exuberance about him, an enthusiasm and charisma that is infectious. The even younger faces around the lecture hall show him that much, how enthralled they are. Only in the past few years has the Academy gotten back up to the numbers it boasted before the Narada.
It's an unsettling feeling in his gut that he has the understanding enough to call something like jealousy, envy?, some barbaric thought about how someone like himself, who has worked hard in his career to get where he is now, should not have to serve under someone who got a command on what at times feels like a whim, favouritism, in spite of Admiral Pike and in spite of the rescue of the crew while still being a third year student at the top of his class. Something to swallow down, because Malcolm is nothing if not professional. He's tempted to leave it at that, but even after the lecture is over, he lingers, waiting for the students trying to vie for Kirk's attention (either for questions of clarification or to be more akin to groupies) before approaching himself.
He'd look more professional if he was in uniform, but technically he isn't on duty for a few more days, therefore screw that. Still, he feels underdressed to be introducing himself to his future captain.
"I hope not to take up too much of your time, Captain," is how he starts in his clipped English tones, offers a crisp salute first before then offering his hand. "Lieutenant Reed, sir, assigned to the Enterprise as of two days ago, security. That was quite the informative and rousing lecture you gave the students. I believe they were rather awestruck."
An interesting word. At it, something shutters behind Kirk's eyes - he maintains his media-friendly smile, but there's a brief instance like a camera lens switching gears. It's over almost as soon as it begins, and he grasps Malcolm's hand in his, firm.
"Lieutenant Reed," he greets, and continues walking, herding the man along with him so that the cluster of cadets might finally get the point without him having to slam a door in someone's face. "I recognize your name, I think. Are you the one who made my CMO rail at me about finally having somebody on board who can compete with my level of catastrophic allergies?"
There's no I think about it. Jim knows every crew member's name, every transfer, every temp, every soul lost. His career has been punctuated from day one by loss-- hell, more than his career. His life. The Kelvin to the destruction of Vulcan, and what's happened most recently on the planet Altamid. And he knows, too, the thinly veiled resentment (willful or not) carried by plenty of those names; every survivor of his graduating class was automatically given rank and post due to the decimation of Starfleet personnel in 2258, but no one stood out like the cadet under academic suspension who got handed the flagship.
Honestly, McCoy's not sure at all how he lets Jim talk him into these things. It's not like Starfleet gave him a direct order to go off on some ridiculous snipe hunt on some ridiculous tin can barely larger than the swarm ship he, ah, stole (and then crashed into the plaza because he never did figure out how to land the goddamn thing. Last he saw, construction crews still hadn't fixed the furrow he'd dug into the sidewalks.) No, they gave Captain Kirk an order and good ol' Captain Kirk, good friend that he is, just didn't want to let his friend and chief medical officer languish at Yorktown.
For all that Yorktown is a giant snow globe waiting to break apart at the slightest solar wind, McCoy really doesn't mind languishing -- especially if he has a drink in hand. It's not like McCoy has a great skill set for this mission... no, he can't even lie to himself on that one. He can fly the slightly-larger-than-average shuttle in a pinch and, if they're truly going out to check on/bring supplies to small scientific outpost not far from Yorktown, then having a doctor on board might not be a bad idea. Scientists get supplies and a check-up. Then Starfleet's happy, Jim's happy, and McCoy can go back to languishing in peace.
Win-win.
He approaches the shuttle with a goddamn spring his step, bag slung over his shoulder, and snarling at anybody who deigns to get in his way. Bones on a good day, really. He steps up next to Jim, arms crossed and rocks back on heels. "We just gonna stand here all day or we gonna get this over with?"
He's had enough adventure to last him at least three lifetimes and you're dragging him back out.
At least they're not going through a nebula.
Right?
yeesss also sorry weekends are busy for me /crawls to internet
Right! No nebulas. (Nebulae?) Nothing will go wrong with this, at all.
"There you are, sleeping beauty," Jim greets. It's not said with the barely-restrained-vibrating-energy he had in the formative stage of their friendship, but he sounds livelier than he has in-- well, years, at this point. His smiles in public are starting to reach his eyes again. The change is by degrees - unlike the jagged knife-cut of Pike's death and his own resurrection that left Jim too old by decades and draining of color - but it's steady.
"Thought I was going to have to dump ice water on you or something. I know how much you like getting up early for space travel."
Armory Officer Baek Ji-seok is known among his crew-mates for a couple of things: his almost alarming efficiency rate and his charming personality. While charming personality is often heavily coded to mean someone that has their head so far up their ass they've never seen the light of day, Ji-seok really is personable. He's charming to a fault and keeps his head even in dire circumstances. His record is impeccable and he's been with the same crew for several years but now the ship is being decommissioned and the crew split up.
Perhaps it's no wonder then that he can often be found these days at Academy lectures, and more specifically those led by Captain James Kirk. He's quiet and attentive, sitting in the back out of politeness for others attending. There are a few times where he considers approaching the young Captain, but generally speaking someone else gets to him first and so instead he waits for the opportunity some more.
Captain Kirk is magnetic - not a celebrity magnetic, because there's nothing deliberately performative about it; instead there's something that's half enchanting and half infuriating about the way he holds himself and his bright eyes, drawing people in whether they like it or not. There's something deliberately withheld while he chats up the crowd, though, sedate and polite, still charming but clearly a little tired.
He passes by Ji-seok after saying goodbye to an old professor of his, but slows his step. "Mr Baek, right?"
[ he's been a bundle of nerves the entire trip thus far. oh, it's not because of the travel itself, or the project he's working, or even the potential danger. it's entirely because this is the first time he's been this close to his dad-- close enough sometimes that he can see him in person, mere meters away, almost close enough to touch.
his mum hadn't wanted him to go, of course, and he thinks this is part of the reason why. after all, she knows the project is really his baby, and he's a goddamn prodigy in his field, but.. she still likes to pretend that he doesn't know who his father is. god! even if he couldn't look into a mirror and see james tiberius kirk in the set of his jaw or the quirk of his smile, well-- he's a scientist, and he was practically raised in a lab. he's known ever since he was old enough to wonder about his missing other parent.
still, just because he's on the enterprise doesn't really mean he's had the chance to speak to the captain.. and he's not sure what he'd say, anyway. though genesis has mostly been his brainchild, he's still the youngest on the team, and thus technically the most junior; when the command crew needs to speak to their guests, they don't bother with the skinny teenager in their midst. it doesn't help that david has tried very hard to keep his head down-- he doesn't want anyone to notice something familiar in his face or mannerisms until he's sorted out what he wants to do.
unfortunately, the enterprise is still a ship, and thus has limited space in which to avoid everyone he wants to avoid. it was inevitable that one day his luck would run out--
--just as he rounds a hallway and nearly runs right into the man he'd been avoiding the hardest. it couldn't possibly be more cliché, could it? david bites back a yelp, scrambling back several steps and glancing up, hands clutching his padd tight against his chest. for a second, then two, he stares, eyes growing progressively rounder. he's not ready for this! ]
I-- C-Captain-- [ damn. he even sounds nervous. he glances away again, taking a breath in through his nose. he's got this. he's definitely got this.
steeling himself, he turns back and frees a hand, offering it out with a glance that's almost defiant. ] Dr. David Marcus. I'm with the Genesis team.
[ Jim is walking as he always does, briskly, his pace somewhere between businesslike professional and confident grifter, some tiny grain of his psyche never able to fully exorcise the delinquent swagger of decades past. Coffee in one hand, PADD in another, he swerves to miss the kid coming around the corridor turn. ]
Hi, [ he greets, typical in his cheer towards subordinates. The two observing science personnel he was walking with are slightly ahead, slowing to wait for him. ] You go on, [ Kirk instructs them with a motion (with the coffee cup). Back to David: ] Dr Marcus. I know who you are.
[ His PADD gets wedged under his opposite arm and he extends a free hand. ] Captain James T Kirk. Welcome aboard the Enterprise, belatedly. Where you headed?
[ .. he does? david stares for a second, then another, before belatedly accepting the offered hand. his father.. knows who he is. but how much does he know? had he just read the mission details? had the name 'marcus' jogged any memories? does he even remember david's mother? ]
Um. [ he blinks once, glance sliding away as he tries to shake himself of those thoughts. ] Thank you. I was heading down to Engineering. I was just-- [ he makes a vague, distracted gesture with a hand. ] I was hoping to catch Mister Scott. [ obviously, david's field of study and scotty's don't often line up, but david's interested in a lot of things that have nothing to do with his doctorate.
he hesitates, then glances back in the direction kirk was headed. ] I'm sorry, am I keeping you? [ he can't be keeping him from anything too important, given the older man's relaxed attitude, but honestly, david wouldn't be surprised if something mad happened at any time. he's followed his father's career pretty closely-- the enterprise is a magnet for trouble. ]
The box is heavy in Spock's hands. Which is an illogical thought to have as the box's contents have neither gained any additional weight nor has he lost any strength; in all actuality, it is a very light box, as well. But all the same, Spock feels a bit like he needs to put it down. Rest it against something or just leave it somewhere until he's better able to deal with it. But, no. No, he has put this off for long enough. And with the new ship nearly completed, this is the best opportunity he has for a private moment with Jim and he's not about to squander it over... Well. Over nonsense, really.
He shifts the box and jabs his finger against the buzzer to alert Jim to his presence, waiting in nearly a parade rest to belay the more personal nature of his visit. He doesn't look at the box even once. It's a firm presence in his hands but nothing more than that. It shouldn't have been in his possession, in the first place.
Spock should have done this awhile ago. He knows he should have. There had been a note among Ambassador Spock's belongings that specified clearly which items were meant for him and which were meant for Jim. To have held on to them for this long was...inappropriate. But Spock had his concerns about delivering them. He had before and now, with meditation, they had only grown. Irregardless, however, these items were Jim's. And he could not withhold them any longer. So he waited, wondering if perhaps he should have commed ahead to make sure the man was in.
Or maybe he was just counting on the fact that he wouldn't be.
Spock's awareness of Jim is, as usual, spot on; he's in, and the door slides open with a soft noise soon enough after Spock pings. Jim isn't in uniform, sporting a light green v-neck and jeans that look potentially older than he is, the back of his hair sticking up in a way that suggests he might have been napping post-shower.
"Spock." Surprised to see his first officer but not displeased, he immediately waves him inside. "What's going on?"
The interior of Jim Kirk's temporary quarters on Yorktown looks the same as the interior of every other unit in Starfleet's officer housing. He's never been much for material possessions, and what few things he had were destroyed with the ship, anyway. His dress uniform is haphazardly strewn half on the floor, though. Uh. Jim picks up his trousers and looks around for his other sock.
"I have disturbed you," he deduces from the state of the room and his friend, both. But he walks in, all the same. No use looking for reasons to leave. He's here, now. And this needs to be finished. "I will...attempt to make this as brief as possible." He bends, finding the other sock and handing it to Jim. The box barely fits in his other hand, alone. He has to grip it especially hard to make sure it doesn't fall. Not to break it, of course.
That would be illogical.
"I have come with possessions my counterpart has bequeathed to you, in his final wishes." Both hands grab the box as though about to present it. But it's never actually extended toward Jim. "There are a few items. A photo of the crew of his Enterprise, what appears to be a holographic chess set, and..."
His eyes drift down to the box and stay there. The one item he wished his counterpart would have just taken with him.
"A necklace which holds a final birthday greeting your counterpart sent to mine. I believe it is after this your alternate self died. It seems that mine wore it on his person." Up till his death. Every day. The few items a man would carry with him every single day. Bring from one universe into another.
do you know how i know? i know because they've got out and i've had to send people all over engineering trying to catch them before they can breed somewhere.
[ why is it always weird animal happenings with you, scotty? ]
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varied starters for any time ✴
Rebuilding the Enterprise is a massive undertaking - not as massive as it would have been three years ago, given the existence of Yorktown and its impossibly advanced construction bays, but this is still a rebuild from complete scratch, far eclipsing even the extensive repairs she's had in the past. And, Jim thinks with a bittersweet (heavy on the bitter) pang, it was probably time for a complete rebuild even if she hadn't been so thoroughly destroyed. Those were no simple patch-jobs after Nero or Marcus - the mileage on the flagship has, frankly, been brutal. A familiar thought: wondering if it's his fault, if the Enterprise would have survived her first five year journey under another captain, or if instead the universe continues to hurl him and his crew on all these collision courses because they're the only ones who can handle them.
He doesn't stay on the starbase for the entire duration of construction, but for long bouts at the beginning and end; he'll know her inside and out this time, every panel, ever nerve, every expanse of glass and insert of cabin carpet. He scratches For Christopher on the floor of the bridge before the final covering goes in, barely a centimeter high, never to be seen by anyone but him.
( +1 )
Hey guess what Yorktown has: bars!! Probably a bunch of them. Jim's not the drinker he used to be, but he's still definitely a drinker. He's also not the Lothario he used to be, either, but you know, old habits.
( +2 )
San Fransisco is Captain Kirk's temporary home for several months, doing guest lectures at the Academy and terrorizing cadets of all kinds. He teaches a month-long survival course, even, which involves dragging a senior class into the woods and scaring the shit out of them with stories of everyone nearly dying all the time up in the black.
( +3 )
It's not like he's on vacation, though. Starfleet Command sends several missions down the tubes and Jim runs them with the same dogged adventurism he runs his ship. Who wants to go check in on a wayward science team?
+3
Lucy isn't brand new. She graduated the academy at the top of her class but since then she's been ping-ponged around between postings and assignments because no one seems to believe she's calmer and more in-tune with taking orders than her father, no matter how much she protests the idea. She doesn't have heroics under her belt to get her a solid assignment. She blames John, perhaps unfairly, and because of this their relationship is often on the outs. She tries to distance herself from him, from his name, going so far once as to briefly change her registration to her mother's maiden name, Gennero.
Problem is, she really is exactly like her father. Sure, she's willing to do anything to get the job done, but there's an idea that floats around about an inability to maintain order in her vicinity. She works hard. It's just that being in the wrong place at the wrong time runs in the family. Which is why she's surprised to be given the assignment she is - with who she is, but she thinks that maybe shoving her toward Captain James Kirk is some kind of last-ditch effort at maybe you'll take her. Checking in on a wayward science team isn't supposed to be much of an issue - shouldn't be, anyway, hopefully - but somehow she still has a sense of nervous energy about her despite hardly being fresh out of the Academy.
Maybe things will actually go right. For once.
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He knows Command thinks it was smugness, the fact that he hadn't lost a single crew member in all that time, and not the fierce, hard-won pride it was. Not pride in himself. Pride in everyone. And then the USS Vengeance happened (what a name), and Krall... no, Edison. Hundreds lost, both times. Now, welcoming aboard new additions (replacements) to the crew is a sobering experience.
The construction break gives Jim a unique opportunity to meet and vet potential transfers before they're locked in - though honestly, he's not much inclined to fuss with what's made its way to his (virtual) desk. On (digital) paper it's the usual mix of excellent cadets scoring well enough to warrant time on the flagship and proactive junior officers being put to more demanding work. He's not sure exactly where Ensign McClane falls on that particular spectrum just yet, but he figures by the time they've made their hike to the remote viewing cabin where Doctor Mills should be, he'll have figured it out.
"I bet this guy's an asshole," he muses after a few minutes of silence. Who else gets punted out to the sticks when you're already in the sticks? Aren't scientists supposed to all get along? Nerd bonding, or something.
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She's a little worried she'll fuck this up, honestly. She sure as hell isn't going home with her tail between her legs even if she does, but it still feels like her last chance at proving that she really can before someone tries to lock her into a dead-end desk job someplace that she won't be a liability. When he speaks her reply is automatic. "Thankfully, Captain, I'm used to dealing with assholes." Wry. Thankfully it doesn't sound like she's talking about her earlier commanding officers. Probably. She has the same kinds of speech patterns as John too, which is usually funny for anyone familiar with him in any capacity since the same quips coming out of a twenty-something woman with hair is something people seem to think is amusing.
He probably is an asshole though, she thinks. It isn't as though Lucy minds having to slough out to this fabled viewing cabin in the middle of nowhere but it's still a little much picking their way through, like they've tried to get him as far out of the way as possible. She understands the sentiment. "Well, either an asshole or one of those real reclusive types." Married to science and unable to socialize with anyone, or a jerk. Or both. Both's a possibility. Now she genuinely wonders which option it is, and some of that nervousness seems to have left her or at least gotten sorted away somewhere invisible as they continue.
But seriously, maybe she should not continue talking because it always gets her in trouble.
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It takes Jim more days than he'd like to be able to catch up - his superiors are really working his time on Earth down to the last minute - but he does, eventually, catch up. He falls in step alongside the other man one day after his lecture is dismissed, though for a while, he says nothing.
Eventually,
"Q didn't send you here, did he?"
Well.
Jim can't help that his tone of voice has too many layers. Wry exasperation, buried, darker ire over the subject of his inquiry, but there's unmistakable relief and fondness. Like he's speaking to someone he already knows.
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general. or pre-3.
Ergo, awaiting the construction of the Enterprise is not, in fact, a time to breathe, but on his way through the docks, Spock finds one anyway. The ship has made astounding advances in the time he has been away from Yorktown, and he stands in place as he regards the impressive shape of what would be, a tall, serene presence in the bustle of the space station.
In isolation, a twinge of sentiment is analysed, filed away, buried. Probably no one saw it.
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Jim lets him go for a while, actually; he spies his first officer when he's en route to engineering with breakfast for Scotty and Keenser, who of course haven't taken the same breaks from Yorktown as everyone else. He's spent a lot of time down there himself, watching her knit together with steel and plasma. You're an engineer at heart, an instructor at the Academy had told him once, and he didn't know what to say; sure, he gets it, he really gets the science and machinery and the metal muscle and art of it all, but he feels pulled in so many directions. Every direction.
"I thought about getting you a 'Vulcan Mocha'," says a familiar voice, edging into roughness from his typical sleep deprivation, "but I don't think it was actually Vulcan."
He comes to stand beside Spock and offers the man a covered up of plain black coffee. Boring and utilitarian, like Jim drinks it.
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+ 1
"Spock might ask you what the bro code is."
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He knocks back the shot portion of his boilermaker (because you can take the delinquent out of rural Iowa, and so on) before leaning his forearms on the table, snagging his beer bottle with the ends of his fingers, almost idle. Jim knows he's here because Spock is being even more of a dick than usual, but he also knows that Spock really and truly tries his best. But he knows that Nyota knows he knows. You know, finally.
"So." So. "Did he come clean or did Chekov crack?"
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2
Everyone knows of Captain Kirk, James T., fastest climb to captaincy in Starfleet history, always finding creative ways around situations that may or may not flagrantly break the rules set in place. Still, settling himself into the back of a class for one of his guest lectures, Malcolm is surprised at how young the man looks. Despite the years and the events, there's still a youthful exuberance about him, an enthusiasm and charisma that is infectious. The even younger faces around the lecture hall show him that much, how enthralled they are. Only in the past few years has the Academy gotten back up to the numbers it boasted before the Narada.
It's an unsettling feeling in his gut that he has the understanding enough to call something like jealousy, envy?, some barbaric thought about how someone like himself, who has worked hard in his career to get where he is now, should not have to serve under someone who got a command on what at times feels like a whim, favouritism, in spite of Admiral Pike and in spite of the rescue of the crew while still being a third year student at the top of his class. Something to swallow down, because Malcolm is nothing if not professional. He's tempted to leave it at that, but even after the lecture is over, he lingers, waiting for the students trying to vie for Kirk's attention (either for questions of clarification or to be more akin to groupies) before approaching himself.
He'd look more professional if he was in uniform, but technically he isn't on duty for a few more days, therefore screw that. Still, he feels underdressed to be introducing himself to his future captain.
"I hope not to take up too much of your time, Captain," is how he starts in his clipped English tones, offers a crisp salute first before then offering his hand. "Lieutenant Reed, sir, assigned to the Enterprise as of two days ago, security. That was quite the informative and rousing lecture you gave the students. I believe they were rather awestruck."
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An interesting word. At it, something shutters behind Kirk's eyes - he maintains his media-friendly smile, but there's a brief instance like a camera lens switching gears. It's over almost as soon as it begins, and he grasps Malcolm's hand in his, firm.
"Lieutenant Reed," he greets, and continues walking, herding the man along with him so that the cluster of cadets might finally get the point without him having to slam a door in someone's face. "I recognize your name, I think. Are you the one who made my CMO rail at me about finally having somebody on board who can compete with my level of catastrophic allergies?"
There's no I think about it. Jim knows every crew member's name, every transfer, every temp, every soul lost. His career has been punctuated from day one by loss-- hell, more than his career. His life. The Kelvin to the destruction of Vulcan, and what's happened most recently on the planet Altamid. And he knows, too, the thinly veiled resentment (willful or not) carried by plenty of those names; every survivor of his graduating class was automatically given rank and post due to the decimation of Starfleet personnel in 2258, but no one stood out like the cadet under academic suspension who got handed the flagship.
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+3 because why not?
For all that Yorktown is a giant snow globe waiting to break apart at the slightest solar wind, McCoy really doesn't mind languishing -- especially if he has a drink in hand. It's not like McCoy has a great skill set for this mission... no, he can't even lie to himself on that one. He can fly the slightly-larger-than-average shuttle in a pinch and, if they're truly going out to check on/bring supplies to small scientific outpost not far from Yorktown, then having a doctor on board might not be a bad idea. Scientists get supplies and a check-up. Then Starfleet's happy, Jim's happy, and McCoy can go back to languishing in peace.
Win-win.
He approaches the shuttle with a goddamn spring his step, bag slung over his shoulder, and snarling at anybody who deigns to get in his way. Bones on a good day, really. He steps up next to Jim, arms crossed and rocks back on heels. "We just gonna stand here all day or we gonna get this over with?"
He's had enough adventure to last him at least three lifetimes and you're dragging him back out.
At least they're not going through a nebula.
Right?
yeesss also sorry weekends are busy for me /crawls to internet
"There you are, sleeping beauty," Jim greets. It's not said with the barely-restrained-vibrating-energy he had in the formative stage of their friendship, but he sounds livelier than he has in-- well, years, at this point. His smiles in public are starting to reach his eyes again. The change is by degrees - unlike the jagged knife-cut of Pike's death and his own resurrection that left Jim too old by decades and draining of color - but it's steady.
"Thought I was going to have to dump ice water on you or something. I know how much you like getting up early for space travel."
you're fine - weekends are hit or miss for me usually. i just managed to hit for once in my life.
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back from vacation, travel killed me @_@
i'm jealous of your vacation, tho
i am also jealous of past-me and would like to return
i know the feeling; i did the same after my vacation
z_z
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ah, the joys of tagging while Benadryl is kicking in...
tbh that's impressive for benadryl
i appreciate that, considering some of the weird punctuation that tag ended up with
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+2
Perhaps it's no wonder then that he can often be found these days at Academy lectures, and more specifically those led by Captain James Kirk. He's quiet and attentive, sitting in the back out of politeness for others attending. There are a few times where he considers approaching the young Captain, but generally speaking someone else gets to him first and so instead he waits for the opportunity some more.
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He passes by Ji-seok after saying goodbye to an old professor of his, but slows his step. "Mr Baek, right?"
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ok here we go
his mum hadn't wanted him to go, of course, and he thinks this is part of the reason why. after all, she knows the project is really his baby, and he's a goddamn prodigy in his field, but.. she still likes to pretend that he doesn't know who his father is. god! even if he couldn't look into a mirror and see james tiberius kirk in the set of his jaw or the quirk of his smile, well-- he's a scientist, and he was practically raised in a lab. he's known ever since he was old enough to wonder about his missing other parent.
still, just because he's on the enterprise doesn't really mean he's had the chance to speak to the captain.. and he's not sure what he'd say, anyway. though genesis has mostly been his brainchild, he's still the youngest on the team, and thus technically the most junior; when the command crew needs to speak to their guests, they don't bother with the skinny teenager in their midst. it doesn't help that david has tried very hard to keep his head down-- he doesn't want anyone to notice something familiar in his face or mannerisms until he's sorted out what he wants to do.
unfortunately, the enterprise is still a ship, and thus has limited space in which to avoid everyone he wants to avoid. it was inevitable that one day his luck would run out--
--just as he rounds a hallway and nearly runs right into the man he'd been avoiding the hardest. it couldn't possibly be more cliché, could it? david bites back a yelp, scrambling back several steps and glancing up, hands clutching his padd tight against his chest. for a second, then two, he stares, eyes growing progressively rounder. he's not ready for this! ]
I-- C-Captain-- [ damn. he even sounds nervous. he glances away again, taking a breath in through his nose. he's got this. he's definitely got this.
steeling himself, he turns back and frees a hand, offering it out with a glance that's almost defiant. ] Dr. David Marcus. I'm with the Genesis team.
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Hi, [ he greets, typical in his cheer towards subordinates. The two observing science personnel he was walking with are slightly ahead, slowing to wait for him. ] You go on, [ Kirk instructs them with a motion (with the coffee cup). Back to David: ] Dr Marcus. I know who you are.
[ His PADD gets wedged under his opposite arm and he extends a free hand. ] Captain James T Kirk. Welcome aboard the Enterprise, belatedly. Where you headed?
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Um. [ he blinks once, glance sliding away as he tries to shake himself of those thoughts. ] Thank you. I was heading down to Engineering. I was just-- [ he makes a vague, distracted gesture with a hand. ] I was hoping to catch Mister Scott. [ obviously, david's field of study and scotty's don't often line up, but david's interested in a lot of things that have nothing to do with his doctorate.
he hesitates, then glances back in the direction kirk was headed. ] I'm sorry, am I keeping you? [ he can't be keeping him from anything too important, given the older man's relaxed attitude, but honestly, david wouldn't be surprised if something mad happened at any time. he's followed his father's career pretty closely-- the enterprise is a magnet for trouble. ]
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later.
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He shifts the box and jabs his finger against the buzzer to alert Jim to his presence, waiting in nearly a parade rest to belay the more personal nature of his visit. He doesn't look at the box even once. It's a firm presence in his hands but nothing more than that. It shouldn't have been in his possession, in the first place.
Spock should have done this awhile ago. He knows he should have. There had been a note among Ambassador Spock's belongings that specified clearly which items were meant for him and which were meant for Jim. To have held on to them for this long was...inappropriate. But Spock had his concerns about delivering them. He had before and now, with meditation, they had only grown. Irregardless, however, these items were Jim's. And he could not withhold them any longer. So he waited, wondering if perhaps he should have commed ahead to make sure the man was in.
Or maybe he was just counting on the fact that he wouldn't be.
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"Spock." Surprised to see his first officer but not displeased, he immediately waves him inside. "What's going on?"
The interior of Jim Kirk's temporary quarters on Yorktown looks the same as the interior of every other unit in Starfleet's officer housing. He's never been much for material possessions, and what few things he had were destroyed with the ship, anyway. His dress uniform is haphazardly strewn half on the floor, though. Uh. Jim picks up his trousers and looks around for his other sock.
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That would be illogical.
"I have come with possessions my counterpart has bequeathed to you, in his final wishes." Both hands grab the box as though about to present it. But it's never actually extended toward Jim. "There are a few items. A photo of the crew of his Enterprise, what appears to be a holographic chess set, and..."
His eyes drift down to the box and stay there. The one item he wished his counterpart would have just taken with him.
"A necklace which holds a final birthday greeting your counterpart sent to mine. I believe it is after this your alternate self died. It seems that mine wore it on his person." Up till his death. Every day. The few items a man would carry with him every single day. Bring from one universe into another.
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do you know how i know? i know because they've got out and i've had to send people all over engineering trying to catch them before they can breed somewhere.
[ why is it always weird animal happenings with you, scotty? ]
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How are you catching invisible mice
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