The Final Preparations
"Keptin on ze bridge!"
Stepping out of the turbolift, for a moment it feels like he never left. The bridge of the USS Enterprise has been cleaned and repaired, her polished floors gleaming with reflected lights from a dozen consoles, and the greater blue glow of Earthshine washing out from the main viewscreen. New and familiar faces alike wait at every post, a rainbow of red and blue and gold, each crewman hand-selected from thousands of applicants. The best crew a captain could ask for. His crew.
Jim doesn't bother to hide the small smile as he steps forward, the captain's chair empty and waiting. No longer just a chair. Not a symbol of our own cleverness and arrogance, something he manipulated his way into under guise of destiny, laying claim to a title he hadn't yet earned. No, he knows better now. A responsibility, not just to his ship but to his crew, the bands of silver on his wrists a reminder of the lives that are in his hands. Something he won't take lightly, not anymore. Not everyone gets a second chance. He won't waste his.
It's only been a year, but Jim feels so much older as he takes his seat, the chair just as right as it felt the first time, the way coming home should be. The place where he belongs, not because some other Jim Kirk earned his way to the top, but because this Jim understands just what he's signed up for. For better, or worse.
"Release all moorings."
It may be nothing more than a shakedown cruise on paper, but it feels no less euphoric to feel the shudder in the deckplates beneath his boots as the Enterprise retracts her umbilical, and the view from the main display dims as she yaws away from the glowing blue jewel of Earth, giving way to endless black and countless pinpricks of distant stars. An infinite canvas of night, beckoning to the explorer's heart beating in his chest.
Once, he would have chafed at the delay, impatience of youth demanding immediate satisfaction, leaping for the stars without a care what the consequences may be. Not anymore. He's already waited so long. What's one more month? He'll get there soon enough.
"Shakedown course plotted, keptin," Chekov reports, and even though his back is turned, Jim can hear the smile in his voice. "All speeds awailable at your command."
Just one week out in the black, but oh, his heart has missed his, no matter how short the mission. "Full impulse, Mister Sulu," Jim commands, leaning back in the captain's chair, the very picture of patience if not for the smile teasing at his lips. "Once we clear Neptune's orbit, we'll open her up and see how she handles her paces."
"Aye, sir," Sulu answers, and under his steady hands, the Enterprise leaps forward.
Stepping out of the turbolift, for a moment it feels like he never left. The bridge of the USS Enterprise has been cleaned and repaired, her polished floors gleaming with reflected lights from a dozen consoles, and the greater blue glow of Earthshine washing out from the main viewscreen. New and familiar faces alike wait at every post, a rainbow of red and blue and gold, each crewman hand-selected from thousands of applicants. The best crew a captain could ask for. His crew.
Jim doesn't bother to hide the small smile as he steps forward, the captain's chair empty and waiting. No longer just a chair. Not a symbol of our own cleverness and arrogance, something he manipulated his way into under guise of destiny, laying claim to a title he hadn't yet earned. No, he knows better now. A responsibility, not just to his ship but to his crew, the bands of silver on his wrists a reminder of the lives that are in his hands. Something he won't take lightly, not anymore. Not everyone gets a second chance. He won't waste his.
It's only been a year, but Jim feels so much older as he takes his seat, the chair just as right as it felt the first time, the way coming home should be. The place where he belongs, not because some other Jim Kirk earned his way to the top, but because this Jim understands just what he's signed up for. For better, or worse.
"Release all moorings."
It may be nothing more than a shakedown cruise on paper, but it feels no less euphoric to feel the shudder in the deckplates beneath his boots as the Enterprise retracts her umbilical, and the view from the main display dims as she yaws away from the glowing blue jewel of Earth, giving way to endless black and countless pinpricks of distant stars. An infinite canvas of night, beckoning to the explorer's heart beating in his chest.
Once, he would have chafed at the delay, impatience of youth demanding immediate satisfaction, leaping for the stars without a care what the consequences may be. Not anymore. He's already waited so long. What's one more month? He'll get there soon enough.
"Shakedown course plotted, keptin," Chekov reports, and even though his back is turned, Jim can hear the smile in his voice. "All speeds awailable at your command."
Just one week out in the black, but oh, his heart has missed his, no matter how short the mission. "Full impulse, Mister Sulu," Jim commands, leaning back in the captain's chair, the very picture of patience if not for the smile teasing at his lips. "Once we clear Neptune's orbit, we'll open her up and see how she handles her paces."
"Aye, sir," Sulu answers, and under his steady hands, the Enterprise leaps forward.