James Tiberius Kirk (
boldygoing) wrote2017-05-29 12:25 pm
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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]
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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"There is still that industrial competition between automobile manufacturers, that they are more concerned with their bottom line over spending money to invest in vehicles that use alternate fuels."
"And right now, in my world, it is Big Oil companies that pave the streets. While there are people who protest pipelines and the use of fossil fuels... the majority of people in North America are still consumers of those fossil fuels."
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Which, you know, he is, so it's a fair assumption. But he hardly wants McCoy to know that or he'll stop him.
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He senses that Jim might just want an epic road trip. Get away for a little bit. So he plays the distraction card.
"If you would like to see an actual paper bill from 2017... I got a few $20s in my wallet."
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"Most people are using Debit or Credit cards these days."
"A $20 could buy you a decent meal at an average restaurant. And it is considered more than what an average worker would make in an hour. But it is not going to be enough to purchase groceries, or pay for energy or electricity."
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Of course, Hunter knows that Jim knows what real hunger is like. But the captain chose his words carefully. After all, Tarsus IV is not Earth. And judging by the lack of reactions from his crew, no one else seems to know there's anything out of the ordinary about the situation.
"I'd like to see this bill," Uhura says, leaning forward in interest. She's never been much of a historian, but given the chance to hold a relatively new example of ancient, archaic currency, she can't pass it up.
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Hunter opens his wallet, and pulls out the grayish $20 bill to hand it over to Uhura. It bears the picture of President Andrew Jackson.
"Especially when you consider that every country has their own currency, and that some countries... like the United States... are considered to be 'wealthier' than other countries which makes their currency worth more."
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"I have lived on both sides of the currency fence, as I was raised in a wealthy home, but later in my life had lived on the streets."
"But even what I experienced is not as tough as those who live in what is considered a Third World Country."
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"Sounds like I might have to barter one away from you sometime," Jim tells Hunter, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a smile.
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But he does work good under a timeline. He finished those stylized portraits for the memorial in time.
"But I am sure we can work out a suitable commission." He winks.
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"Do you have a particular favorite gem stone, Uhura? I can incorporate it into a little gold tree for you."
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"McCoy?" He smiles. "You don't seem like a small gold tree would fit..."
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"Hey," Jim protests, but there's no real fire in it. It's just a fact of life that Bones worries about him, now more than ever.
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"I could even take some medical tools that are used in my dimension, and make them into something for you."
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"I'm only six years older'n you, Jim."
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"Spock?" He turns to the Vulcan next. "How about you?"
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Conversely, of course, Hunter could always find something to make for him that would serve more purpose than just to be admired, but Spock would never outright ask for something like that.
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So he will approach Spock's art piece in the same manner that he would for Verity. Something that would serve a purpose.
And he will also be talking to Schön -- the one man who would know if there are any Nexus doors that would lead to a culture that is now lost to the world.
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