There's a moment - a long moment - where Lucy covers her mouth with her hand because she's smirking in response to the doctor's clear alarm. By the time she drops her arm though, she's smiling instead.
Man, what a shitty stationing, though. She feels luckier than she has in a while. She waits though, eyes scanning the entirety of the lab space while he gets himself together. What a mess.
"If you don't mind Doctor, after you've given us a rundown of the facility I have a few questions about the areas surrounding. Nothing too groundbreaking, just some run of the mill curiosity about some readings."
It's the most pleasant she's looked or sounded this entire time, and if he'd seemed harried and nervous before, now the man is practically sweating. He stammers out some kind of response, but Lucy's already tilted her head a little in a disarming fashion. Still smiling.
Balking at the name ('Kirk' was not unknown throughout the Federation even before the antics of this one), the Doctor in question ends up stuffing himself into a uniform top as he begins a tour of the small area. Looking back over his shoulder, Jim points at the covered specimens, mouthing 'scan those' at her before returning his full attention to the mini-tour.
"That's a hell of a distillery output," he says, pulling a bottle out from under a discarded lab coat. "Huh. Don't recognize the label. That's not Dirnellian writing, is it? That's part of the Klingon Empire. I'm impressed. How'd you get the hookup for this?"
Lucy nods imperceptibly at the command, listening to the tour as she makes sure to scan everything in sight, quickly cataloging each different scan as they complete. Some things are the usual, but anything of note is quietly flagged, as is the fact that Kirk appears to have found something even more interesting.
She glances over her shoulder as he speaks, mouth twisting just a little. Once her main scanning is done, she sidles over to eye the bottle of interest. She wonders, idly, how the Doctor will explain it since there's not really an opportunity for 'it isn't mine.' He seems to be giving it the old Academy try, though.
Don't mind her, she'll just be scanning this sample as well. All smiles.
It is An Interesting Conversation, because this is the kind of hooch one can only buy, and for those following along at home: the Federation does not use money. Sure, any given ship out on an exploratory mission will be loaded up with petty cash in credit form (usually compatible with the Klingon Empire or the vagueness of the Neutral Zone), but nobody has personal money because nobody in the Federation makes money. It's an ancient, barbaric practice that does nothing but corrupt.
Still. Some people really do get the itch. "Why don't you show me how you're getting it," Jim says, slapping the guy on the shoulder in a resigned manner. "Jig's up and we all know it. You going to tell me what McClane's going find in your equipment or let her break it to me?"
"It'd be better if you go ahead and tell him," she says with a hum, though her back is turned again because now she's examining the equipment itself. It's clear she's meticulous and that she'll be getting Every Detail. So really, coming clean easily will look better than her glowing report will.
There's a pregnant pause before he seems to deflate a little and start to explain because what else can he do? But then Lucy stops moving a second as he speaks, looking at them out the corners of her eyes.
"This is what that clearing is for? Well, that's more interesting than picnics, I guess."
Jim has to really rein in the desire to put his hands on his hips and ask Are you peddling narcotics? in a dramatic preschool teacher voice because, honestly, this is ridiculous. It's going to end up being serious, though - this man is definitely going to be dishonorably discharged after he's aggressively debriefed about his dealings with non-Federation entities.
"What a thing to kill your career over," he sighs eventually, towards the tail end of guilty, frantic ramblings as the good doctor coughs up all the details.
"That really doesn't look like anything benign." The space weed, he means. The few little plants are lurid, shifting between pale violet and dark purple, and when he gets close enough they smell like dead bodies. Even in his (cough) heyday, Jim would have given pause. "Who made the pickup last? A smuggler?"
It really is a shame. Lucy can't decide if it's her curse that nothing can go right on a mission she's on, or if it'll look good that it was on a mission she was on they caught him - but all the same, she can't find it in herself to feel pleased about that, even if he's brought it on himself.
At benign Lucy waits until Jim has a moment and shows him the reading from the plants, their classification and composition. No, they. Really are not that benign at all. The doctor is still frantic though, and he appears to be torn between diming out whoever he has smuggle this shit out and being too worried to do it, but also like the tiniest push will tip him in either direction.
Eventually, the guy coughs it up. Jim flips open his communicator and instructs the crew back at the main base to hold the rest of the research team outside under watch while they take the place apart looking for illegally traded contraband, despite the doctor insisting they won't find any. It's procedure, at this point, and honestly-- this isn't a mission going wrong. Wrong at this stage would have been them missing it, and Jim explains that very thing as they head back down the hill.
"You did good work," he says, the doctor sullenly keeping pace ahead of them. It's not every day Jim exercises his right to arrest people on behalf of the Federation, but here we are.
She spends the entire rest of the exchange waiting for something to definitely actually go wrong, but it never comes. They just... do their jobs. It's a foreign feeling, and she keeps pace with Jim as they head out. Something in her unfurls, slowly. She still gets so tense even on regular missions. Even as they walk, she's keeping an eye out for anything else.
It's clear that Lucy isn't used to that kind of praise either in the way her shoulders lift in the face of it: she always does good work but any praises are always grudging. She breathes out and it almost stutters like she wants to laugh but she reins it in just in time. "Thank you, captain. I try to keep my work up to standards."
Jim makes a mental note to talk about this with Lucy once they're back up on the ship - not the Enterprise, of course, but a Miranda-class science vessel Kirk's taken interim command of, the Tereshkova. He has a few thoughts on the matter.
"Chekov!" he greets when they rejoin the rest of the away team. The young Russian is the only member of his preexisting bridge crew to come along on this assignment, the rest having their own lives to attend to in the downtime. "What's the situation?"
So far so good; they've dug up one bottle of Romulan ale, but that's pretty standard as far as contraband goes. Most of the so-called Romulan booze out there wasn't made anywhere near the Star Empire. The LT explains it was given to her by the doctor they're arresting, a trade for not giving him a demerit over a minor infraction. Not the most becoming behavior of a Starfleet officer, but nothing nefarious either.
"All your data needs to be transferred to the database on the Tereshkova," he instructs, "wrap everything up like this is the end of your run." Supervising begins when he gets an odd call from his communications officer on the bridge, alerting him to a strange frequency they've intercepted.
There's a slight change in Lucy's demeanor when they get back to the rest of the team. She's still working diligently, comparing notes with a couple others and making sure everything is done properly. She's sharp but fair, and the change lies in the smoothness and comfort with which she does it.
A change so small may not be noticed by most people, but then again she's not around most people right now. It's probably unsurprising that she'd flourish in this environment, anyway. Amazing what actually being treated like her hard work is worth something can do.
She's finishing up on her end when that call comes in and she doesn't try to eavesdrop but she glances toward Kirk attentively and feels like the other shoe is dropping somehow. She's probably just being paranoid. Still, her brow furrows before she goes back to quickly completing everything and then she waits to see if it's something he's going to feel the need to share.
In what's possibly an odd contrast, Jim seems intrigued by the idea of a Strange Thing. He's able to take a look at it remotely on screen in the lab, letting the away team all contemplate what it might be. Communication? Probe? It doesn't look like anything he's come across before, but there's something in the base code that suggests it's been deliberately crafted, and isn't organic.
(He wishes Uhura were here.)
"Do you think it's safe to beam up?" he asks, and when they get the A-OK, Jim has the away team return to the ship, leaving the suspect officers on the planet awaiting a Federation investigation. He has Chekov, Lucy, and a science officer accompany him to the bridge (which is not all that far from the transporter room on this vessel), intent on figuring out what's going on.
It's not even that Lucy is incapable of being interested, it's more that nothing ever stays just interesting. She'll get used to it eventually. Maybe. She is intrigued enough to pore over the code with the others, picking through it visually to see if anything stands out to her. It's not familiar to her either unfortunately, but she feels like she'd like to pick it apart later even though she's not Communications.
Once they're safely back on the ship she's back to that calm, accompanying Jim to the bridge easily. She wants to know too, but it doesn't seem like anything is actually forthcoming. Nothing satisfying, anyway.
It's there and they can't actually trace its origin, then it's gone and they can't trace that either. It's frustrating, ultimately, but it seems oddly like there isn't that much they can even do about it. The lack of resolution makes her feel a little peevish.
Jim ends up pacing the length of the bridge for a while, clearly annoyed at how this feels like trying to catch water in his fingers - something was snooping around, and it wasn't related to the smuggling nonsense happening down on the planet. Smugglers this deep into charted space wouldn't have such oddball tech, and besides, they wouldn't bother with a probe; they'd take one look at a Federation vessel and bail.
He logs the incident and has the communications officer bring up more staff to the bridge to keep an ear out for anything else. Weird.
It's another little while before he gets a chance, but he does eventually call Lucy into his office. Seated behind the desk, he smiles up at her and gestures for her to sit in one of the chairs on the other side. "McClane," he greets.
Lucy keeps herself busy in the interim. It's better than letting herself wonder and dwell on missing something, or even just wondering what it could be. There's a lot to do even when they're not on a planetside mission, and it's enough to keep her occupied.
When she's called to Jim's office she's not nervous where she might have been before - she knows the mission went well, and he was clearly pleased with her performance. Which means she can return his smile easily enough, moving to sit where he indicates. "Captain," she returns, knowing that she'd told herself not to hope for the best but doing it anyway.
"Usually I'd do this meeting on the Enterprise," he says, "after your first away mission. But, circumstances as they are--" Jim shrugs. The ship's not back in action yet, and this 'away mission' was a glorified milk run. But an assignment's an assignment, and not everything is going to be an action flick. These kinds of tasks are just as important in the long run.
There's a nod. Lucy understands what he means, of course: not everything could or even should be huge or exciting or a big deal. That would be preposterous. She seems to be considering his question a moment before she answers, thoughtful. "It went well. Not as expected, but well. Routine, simple."
"I—" There's a beat where it's clear she's battling with herself over saying anything more at all. Guess which wins. "I felt like my contributions were appreciated and treated with respect. I wanted to say thank you for that. So yes, I'm very happy with how today went."
"I am too." Jim flips through something on his touchscreen; unseen, he's glancing at her records again.
"Here's what I experienced: you intuited what I wanted without having to stop and ask for clarification in front of the doctor down there. You read a room well. I'm going to guess, based on your documented history, you're used to doing that but then having the goal posts moved when your CO ends up surprised you did the right thing."
This time she exhales a slow sigh before answering because he's hit the nail on the head very precisely. "That sounds right, yes."
A frown, but it's not directed at him. "I've been cycled through so many COs that watch me do good work and then find some kind of excuse to call me a liability. It's not my place to talk badly about them, but it's frustrating to know I do good work and to have it not be good enough."
She smiles, wry. "I know a lot of them see me being assigned to them as a punishment."
That much Jim is certain of. But, and it's important they get through everything: "You could be. I've been where you are. I know how it is, doing what you know is right and having people do everything in their power to block you, because they don't like you personally, they're unable to reconcile the task at hand versus regulations, or they're judging your family."
Being the Kelvin baby isn't quite being John McClane's kid - different problems, wildly different ends of the spectrum, but it leaves him uniquely sympathetic none the less.
"It's easy to develop a chip on your shoulder. Or get truly reckless once you've got room. I don't want that for you."
Lucy is quite sure she's never heard anyone tell her that in so many words. You aren't a liability. Maybe it's clear on her face like it was earlier, but she tries to rein it in.
Everything he says makes sense though. She knows it - knows that as much as she says she's not like John, she really is. It's not the same, not nearly, but there's the potential. She also knows that Jim's sympathy isn't fake. Of course it isn't.
She nods. Once. "I could complain until I go blue in the face about how it's fine, how it doesn't get to me, but that doesn't change the fact that it does." She wants to pause, to look away for a split second, but she doesn't, gaze even and unflinching. "All I want is a chance to stay at the same post long enough to show that I won't become a liability if I'm kept on. I want to keep doing good work."
"I think that you're going to do well under my command," Jim says. "The adjustment will inevitably be rough just due to the nature of the mission, but..." he shrugs, amiable. "You seem well-suited for exploratory tours. You're adaptable, and I think you'll like the stability. Not uh, really a routine, we're either up to our necks our there or doing nothing for weeks at a time. But that's life."
When the tension drains out of her Lucy feels empty for a split second because she doesn't know what to do without it. But she smiles finally, properly, something a little sharp but mostly pleased. (Excited.) "I don't mind an adjustment period at all." That's an understatement. "Thank you, captain." She wants to maintain a sense of calm because outbursts can be embarrassing but—
There's a short moment where she drops her face into her hands not because she's going to cry, but because it muffles a brief incoherent noise into them. It's not a lot, more like someone letting out frustration than anything, but she's had a lot of frustration over the past few years.
Then, suddenly: "Sorry," she breathes out. Definitely embarrassed. "I'm sorry, that was really unprofessional. It's just no one's ever wanted me around before. I'll do my best to make sure I live up to expectations."
Jim stays quiet, letting her have that moment without any awkward fidgeting on his end. He wasn't sure exactly how she'd react, but his instincts told him that it was best to do this meeting soon. It's not the first emotional reaction a crew member has had during one of these and he's sure it won't be the last - but it's important, like they all are.
For once, things have turned out all right. Better than all right. The relief she feels is palpable and almost dizzying but she's reined herself back in by now.
"This new day's a good one, Captain." A breath. "And I'm honored for it." She is, and not because of being assigned to the Enterprise or to Captain Kirk specifically. There's a lot attached to that, but she doesn't care about that. It's the fact that he's treating her like a valued member of his crew already and not like a burden.
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Man, what a shitty stationing, though. She feels luckier than she has in a while. She waits though, eyes scanning the entirety of the lab space while he gets himself together. What a mess.
"If you don't mind Doctor, after you've given us a rundown of the facility I have a few questions about the areas surrounding. Nothing too groundbreaking, just some run of the mill curiosity about some readings."
It's the most pleasant she's looked or sounded this entire time, and if he'd seemed harried and nervous before, now the man is practically sweating. He stammers out some kind of response, but Lucy's already tilted her head a little in a disarming fashion. Still smiling.
Iiiinteresting.
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"That's a hell of a distillery output," he says, pulling a bottle out from under a discarded lab coat. "Huh. Don't recognize the label. That's not Dirnellian writing, is it? That's part of the Klingon Empire. I'm impressed. How'd you get the hookup for this?"
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She glances over her shoulder as he speaks, mouth twisting just a little. Once her main scanning is done, she sidles over to eye the bottle of interest. She wonders, idly, how the Doctor will explain it since there's not really an opportunity for 'it isn't mine.' He seems to be giving it the old Academy try, though.
Don't mind her, she'll just be scanning this sample as well. All smiles.
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Still. Some people really do get the itch. "Why don't you show me how you're getting it," Jim says, slapping the guy on the shoulder in a resigned manner. "Jig's up and we all know it. You going to tell me what McClane's going find in your equipment or let her break it to me?"
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There's a pregnant pause before he seems to deflate a little and start to explain because what else can he do? But then Lucy stops moving a second as he speaks, looking at them out the corners of her eyes.
"This is what that clearing is for? Well, that's more interesting than picnics, I guess."
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"What a thing to kill your career over," he sighs eventually, towards the tail end of guilty, frantic ramblings as the good doctor coughs up all the details.
"That really doesn't look like anything benign." The space weed, he means. The few little plants are lurid, shifting between pale violet and dark purple, and when he gets close enough they smell like dead bodies. Even in his (cough) heyday, Jim would have given pause. "Who made the pickup last? A smuggler?"
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At benign Lucy waits until Jim has a moment and shows him the reading from the plants, their classification and composition. No, they. Really are not that benign at all. The doctor is still frantic though, and he appears to be torn between diming out whoever he has smuggle this shit out and being too worried to do it, but also like the tiniest push will tip him in either direction.
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"You did good work," he says, the doctor sullenly keeping pace ahead of them. It's not every day Jim exercises his right to arrest people on behalf of the Federation, but here we are.
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It's clear that Lucy isn't used to that kind of praise either in the way her shoulders lift in the face of it: she always does good work but any praises are always grudging. She breathes out and it almost stutters like she wants to laugh but she reins it in just in time. "Thank you, captain. I try to keep my work up to standards."
It's absolutely genuine.
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"Chekov!" he greets when they rejoin the rest of the away team. The young Russian is the only member of his preexisting bridge crew to come along on this assignment, the rest having their own lives to attend to in the downtime. "What's the situation?"
So far so good; they've dug up one bottle of Romulan ale, but that's pretty standard as far as contraband goes. Most of the so-called Romulan booze out there wasn't made anywhere near the Star Empire. The LT explains it was given to her by the doctor they're arresting, a trade for not giving him a demerit over a minor infraction. Not the most becoming behavior of a Starfleet officer, but nothing nefarious either.
"All your data needs to be transferred to the database on the Tereshkova," he instructs, "wrap everything up like this is the end of your run." Supervising begins when he gets an odd call from his communications officer on the bridge, alerting him to a strange frequency they've intercepted.
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A change so small may not be noticed by most people, but then again she's not around most people right now. It's probably unsurprising that she'd flourish in this environment, anyway. Amazing what actually being treated like her hard work is worth something can do.
She's finishing up on her end when that call comes in and she doesn't try to eavesdrop but she glances toward Kirk attentively and feels like the other shoe is dropping somehow. She's probably just being paranoid. Still, her brow furrows before she goes back to quickly completing everything and then she waits to see if it's something he's going to feel the need to share.
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(He wishes Uhura were here.)
"Do you think it's safe to beam up?" he asks, and when they get the A-OK, Jim has the away team return to the ship, leaving the suspect officers on the planet awaiting a Federation investigation. He has Chekov, Lucy, and a science officer accompany him to the bridge (which is not all that far from the transporter room on this vessel), intent on figuring out what's going on.
"Any change?" Nope, not really, it turns out.
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Once they're safely back on the ship she's back to that calm, accompanying Jim to the bridge easily. She wants to know too, but it doesn't seem like anything is actually forthcoming. Nothing satisfying, anyway.
It's there and they can't actually trace its origin, then it's gone and they can't trace that either. It's frustrating, ultimately, but it seems oddly like there isn't that much they can even do about it. The lack of resolution makes her feel a little peevish.
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He logs the incident and has the communications officer bring up more staff to the bridge to keep an ear out for anything else. Weird.
It's another little while before he gets a chance, but he does eventually call Lucy into his office. Seated behind the desk, he smiles up at her and gestures for her to sit in one of the chairs on the other side. "McClane," he greets.
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When she's called to Jim's office she's not nervous where she might have been before - she knows the mission went well, and he was clearly pleased with her performance. Which means she can return his smile easily enough, moving to sit where he indicates. "Captain," she returns, knowing that she'd told herself not to hope for the best but doing it anyway.
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"How do you feel today went?"
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"I—" There's a beat where it's clear she's battling with herself over saying anything more at all. Guess which wins. "I felt like my contributions were appreciated and treated with respect. I wanted to say thank you for that. So yes, I'm very happy with how today went."
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"Here's what I experienced: you intuited what I wanted without having to stop and ask for clarification in front of the doctor down there. You read a room well. I'm going to guess, based on your documented history, you're used to doing that but then having the goal posts moved when your CO ends up surprised you did the right thing."
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A frown, but it's not directed at him. "I've been cycled through so many COs that watch me do good work and then find some kind of excuse to call me a liability. It's not my place to talk badly about them, but it's frustrating to know I do good work and to have it not be good enough."
She smiles, wry. "I know a lot of them see me being assigned to them as a punishment."
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That much Jim is certain of. But, and it's important they get through everything: "You could be. I've been where you are. I know how it is, doing what you know is right and having people do everything in their power to block you, because they don't like you personally, they're unable to reconcile the task at hand versus regulations, or they're judging your family."
Being the Kelvin baby isn't quite being John McClane's kid - different problems, wildly different ends of the spectrum, but it leaves him uniquely sympathetic none the less.
"It's easy to develop a chip on your shoulder. Or get truly reckless once you've got room. I don't want that for you."
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Everything he says makes sense though. She knows it - knows that as much as she says she's not like John, she really is. It's not the same, not nearly, but there's the potential. She also knows that Jim's sympathy isn't fake. Of course it isn't.
She nods. Once. "I could complain until I go blue in the face about how it's fine, how it doesn't get to me, but that doesn't change the fact that it does." She wants to pause, to look away for a split second, but she doesn't, gaze even and unflinching. "All I want is a chance to stay at the same post long enough to show that I won't become a liability if I'm kept on. I want to keep doing good work."
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There's a short moment where she drops her face into her hands not because she's going to cry, but because it muffles a brief incoherent noise into them. It's not a lot, more like someone letting out frustration than anything, but she's had a lot of frustration over the past few years.
Then, suddenly: "Sorry," she breathes out. Definitely embarrassed. "I'm sorry, that was really unprofessional. It's just no one's ever wanted me around before. I'll do my best to make sure I live up to expectations."
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"It's a new day, Ensign."
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"This new day's a good one, Captain." A breath. "And I'm honored for it." She is, and not because of being assigned to the Enterprise or to Captain Kirk specifically. There's a lot attached to that, but she doesn't care about that. It's the fact that he's treating her like a valued member of his crew already and not like a burden.