boldygoing | Big Reveals [for losthunter]

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Big Reveals [for losthunter]

Jim has been in Starfleet Medical for eight weeks before he's finally released. Which is not to say he's been cleared for duty, mind you. But he's recovered enough not to need that kind of constant medical supervision, able to take the rest of his treatment as outpatient. He has physical therapy three times a week, exercises to do at home, and of course Doctor McCoy is still keeping an eagle eye on his diet, something that annoys Jim to no end.

Of course, that's nothing compared to finding out that his Starfleet-assigned apartment is buried under the crashed bulk of the USS Vengeance.

Jim doesn't really give a shit about the apartment itself. Yeah, it was kind of nice to have his own place, but it's never been home. It was just a place to stay whenever the Enterprise was in port. And though it was more decorated than his quarters onboard the ship, it was all meaningless knickknacks, nothing with any real sentimental value.

No, he's more pissed about the fact that nobody told him until a month after he woke up from the coma.

He understands why, of course. McCoy gave him the whole spiel about stress being bad for his recovery, about not needing to worry himself about things he couldn't do anything about, that by the time this happened Jim was already dead, but it's a heavy blow to realize that the loss of life was far, far greater than he'd realized. Tens of thousands died or lost their homes. Yet Jim Kirk lives, when he has no right to be breathing, let alone leaving the hospital.

And it's hard not to be in a foul mood when he realizes that the only place he has to stay on Earth is in Iowa, at the old neglected Kirk homestead. At least it's not likely to be bugged by Section 31, and Jim spends two entire days sweeping the place for surveillance devices, and another three to get the house in order, before he's reassured enough to have visitors.

[OOC: Image links to replace broken ones below:
23rd century Iowa
Mind meld position]

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"I think we are about done here." The bookshelf is set up with the books now. It is something for Jim to enjoy, while he has to live in his old place.

"Lead the way..."

They have decent timing, as Jim can hear the distant rumble of a hovercar engine approaching from the direction of Riverside's tiny shuttle terminal. It'll be a minute or two before it arrives, however, so Jim busies himself with the food synthesizer, creating a lemonade for himself with the push of a button. "You want anything to drink?" he asks Hunter.

"Um... sure..." Hunter tilts his head again. "How does that work?"

Jim debates giving the full technical explanation, but there's a lot of technological background knowledge needed to completely understand it, so he settles on a more simplified version that'll make sense to someone without that kind of knowledge. "It's kind of similar to transporters, except it's not moving anything from one place to another. It converts energy into matter, based on preprogrammed recipes. There's a lot of stuff it can't do right, like fresh fruit, and it can't make anything where it doesn't know the formula, so nothing too exotic."

"It is a little weird." Strange how this is how the future might be, some day.

"Kind of, I guess." Jim has a hard time seeing it that way, himself. Food synthesizers have done a lot to help prevent the kind of famine that once wiped out entire populations, and that's getting too deep into personal territory for today, so he doesn't say a word about it.

Instead he looks over at Hunter and smiles slightly. "What can I make you? Can't do alcohol yet though, sorry. Coffee, tea, soft drinks, fruit juice..." There's more, of course, but those seem fairly standard options.

Hunter sort of wishes he could bring a little of this technology back with him. To help the hungering masses. But that is not possible.

"Orange juice?"

Jim scrolls a little further down in the digital display and selects one of the options. The little alcove in the wall lights up briefly with swirling white light, and when it fades, there's a glass of orange juice waiting inside. Jim hands it over to Hunter. "Your wish is my command."

"I didn't know that I had rubbed your lamp..." Hunter has to get one more flirtatious jab at Jim, before his friends enter the farmhouse.

Jim already knows what his senior crew are likely to want, so he starts creating drinks for them too, as the hovercar finally pulls up in the driveway outside. "You wanna get the door for them?" he asks.

Hunter heads to the door, opening so that the crew members are welcomed inside. He greets each of them with a smile, and a "Hello."

Jim hasn't invited the entire bridge crew, of course. This is going to be a weird enough conversation with just a few of them. So for now, at least, it's only Uhura, Spock, and McCoy.

Uhura is first inside, and she greets Hunter warmly. "Oh, I didn't realize you were here already. Did you beam over?" There is, of course, no vehicle in the driveway to indicate his arrival.

He is at least glad the few who were all invited are people he had gotten to know, while Jim was in his coma. And he has a smile for Uhura, when she arrives.

"You asking me to reveal all my tricks?" He laughs softly. Not answering. But not lying either.

"Didn't realize you were a damn magician," McCoy grumbles, though Hunter will know by now that it's his default mood and not any kind of actual annoyance.

Spock regards Hunter with calm thoughtfulness, also reflecting on the lack of a second hovercar on Kirk family property. But he says nothing about it, inclining his head slightly. "Greetings, Hunter."

With Uhura's help, Jim brings the drinks out into the living room, still decorated with rather outdated furniture but at least it's clean. The strong scent of McCoy's black coffee mingles with the spicier scent of Spock's tea, and Uhura herself has some kind of yellow fruit punch. Jim takes a seat on one of the couches, not truly comfortable on the ancient padding, but drawing his comfort from the company instead.

Hunter has to only laugh at McCoy's grumbling. If he only knew that actual magic did still linger in Hunter's blood.

He can also see the Vulcan's mind slowly trying to piece together the puzzle, and knows it might not take him long.

Hunter takes note of the drinks that Jim serves to everyone. And takes a seat beside Jim, after grabbing his orange drink.

He feels a little jittery still. And part of him wants to do a 'so you are all wondering why I have brought you here today', as they did in the good old mystery movies. But he instead takes a sip of his drink.

Jim speaks first, setting his lemonade down on the low table in front of the couch. "So, we all haven't been completely honest here."

McCoy frowns deeply, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "Now, Jim..."

Uhura picks up on his choice of phrasing right away, of course. There's a reason she's earned her place as the head of communications aboard the Enterprise. "I assume it's nothing classified," she says, her gaze flicking to Hunter.

Jim tries not to laugh. "I don't even know who would classify it if it was."

"Nothing classified. The we that Jim is talking about, is me and him." Hunter smiles softly. "And how that neither of us have been completely honest about where I have come from."

"And how if any one wanted to try to find my personal records... they wouldn't be able to. I sort of... don't exist on your world."

Spock tilts his head slightly. "Clarify." He can think of several things that might mean, and they all carry different implications. Whether it's something as relatively simple as Hunter being a covert agent of some type - unlikely, given his markings - or as grandiose as being some sort of alien energy being, come to visit Earth.

"You know how Ambassador Spock came from an alternate universe?" Jim says, and he kinda wishes that wasn't the only example at hand, because a universe that diverged thanks to time travel meddling in the works is one thing. "Turns out there are a lot of 'em. Infinite, actually."

"Jim found his way into a gathering point of those alternate universes. We call it a Nexus. Where we met..."

"I am from a dimension, where the year is 2017."

"There is no space travel. No Starfleet. No food processors."

Spock peers at Hunter with that stoic speculative look he often wears, his expression betraying nothing of his thoughts on the matter. In contrast, McCoy is expressive enough for the both of them, looking like he can't quite decide if he wants to be concerned that they've both suffered some kind of mutual hallucination, or possibly upset they didn't say anything sooner, or just plain skeptical of the whole matter.

Uhura responds first. "When did this happen? We didn't run into any spatial anomalies that could cause something like that."

Well, here goes the part that makes things sound really weird. Jim winces a little. "Apparently the doors to the Nexus can be pretty random. My first way in was, uh, Conference Room One." He pauses a moment while his crew stare at him and Hunter in disbelief. "That was just the one time."

"And you all had asked how I got here... I used a Nexus door, that Jim opened for me." Hunter wants to clarify that. "Someone else wouldn't have traveled here, until they had the right coordinates in the first place."

"The doors that lead into the Nexus usually only open for the person who they had intended to open them. It is actually a weird thing..."

"There is no danger to the person entering the Nexus either. There is an anti-violence field to prevent such things. And most people..." Jim gets a fond look from Hunter. "Find the brochures about the Nexus when they first enter, telling them about where they are. And how the place works."

"Intended? Someone controls access to this Nexus?" Uhura asks, picking up on that key phrase.

Jim, of course, is giving Hunter a similarly fond look, though this one has undertones of 'what, it's not my fault the brochures sounded like total bullshit.'

"Fascinating," Spock murmurs, his brow furrowed ever so minutely. "Captain, your prediction that this conversation would arouse skepticism was a logical one."

"Logical?" McCoy sputters. "Nothing about this is logical, Spock."

"Something controls the Nexus." Hunter voices it as an opinion. "The doors only open when there is a damn good reason. Usually because someone needs assistance that can only be provided by others in the Nexus."

"There is this general meeting place, where a person could ask a question, and have anyone... from any dimension, give them advice."

"I had been soul-searching myself, the first time I found myself there."

McCoy frowns even more, if that's even possible. "And what the hell were you looking for?" he asks Jim.

Jim shrugs. "Nothing, at the time." And it's just now occurred to him that whatever controls the Nexus may have known that he could use some help in the days after his first foray into its meeting grounds. Why not? Apparently time is no object, and things aren't always linear. But this might not be the best time to bring that up.

"Please forgive me, but while such things are theoretically possible, it is an... extraordinary claim," Spock says to Hunter, clasping his hands together in front of himself. "There is no other logical answer to much that I have noticed regarding your relation to the captain. But as a scientist, I am ill-equipped to take such matters on faith alone."

"We sort of thought that it would be difficult to take matters on faith alone." Hunter nods slightly.

He glances at Jim, not sure if he should be the one to offer the mind meld or not. "But I am willing to help provide scientific proof. However, you feel is best..."

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