James Tiberius Kirk (
boldygoing) wrote2017-06-08 09:37 pm
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Road Trip [for losthunter]
It's a beautiful spring day in Riverside, Iowa. The skies are clear and the weather is pleasantly mild, and across the endless fields that stretch out into vast distances, automated farm machinery is hard at work planting corn for the season.
There's no such machinery around the Kirk farm, though someone has bothered to zap away some of the weeds threatening to devour the foundation. The old homestead still sits disturbingly empty, all but abandoned if not for a few small signs that someone has been there recently. One of those signs sits just outside the house, leaning up against his motorbike as he waits for another rider to come join him, a set of riding goggles resting against his forehead.
The motorcycle has clearly seen better days, but it's nothing like twenty-first century bikes. There are no spokes in the wheels, for one thing - indeed, the wheels don't even seem attached by anything visible, held in place by some invisible force. It's keeping itself upright without a kickstand, as well, even though the young man in question is leaning most of his weight against it.
There's no such machinery around the Kirk farm, though someone has bothered to zap away some of the weeds threatening to devour the foundation. The old homestead still sits disturbingly empty, all but abandoned if not for a few small signs that someone has been there recently. One of those signs sits just outside the house, leaning up against his motorbike as he waits for another rider to come join him, a set of riding goggles resting against his forehead.
The motorcycle has clearly seen better days, but it's nothing like twenty-first century bikes. There are no spokes in the wheels, for one thing - indeed, the wheels don't even seem attached by anything visible, held in place by some invisible force. It's keeping itself upright without a kickstand, as well, even though the young man in question is leaning most of his weight against it.
pretend I know stuff...
"Harleys have that distinction of being solidly built."
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"So I hope your road trip plans include a lot of back roads and scenery." The back roads will be the best way for Hunter to avoid being spotted on his 21st bike.
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"We're going to swing by the shipyards on our way out of town, if that's okay."
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Out ahead, the terrain stretches put to the horizon, mostly flat and green with seedling crops, and Jim angles their path in the direction of the massive hazy structures off in the distance.
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As they close the distance between Jim's childhood home and the large structures in the distance, the haze begins to fade until their shape becomes clear. It's an enormous series of scaffolds, permanent in nature, built to cradle the shape of a starship under construction, or under repair. And as they get closer, it becomes obvious that the starship held in the dry dock is familiar.
There's a fence around the shipyard, keeping out unauthorized personnel, but they don't need to enter the fence to get a good look. Jim leads the way to a hill overlooking the dry dock, his path assured like he's been there before.
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Following Jim up the path to the hill overlooking the dry dock, Hunter slows down enough so he can place his foot on the ground, and pause in an idle position looking down on the Enterprise.
Jim's ship looks like it had gone through Hell, and is still recovering. It is a sombre reminder of the battle that Jim's crew had endured. Of the people who lost their lives. Of Jim himself laying in a comatose state. His heart is still fragile after saying goodbye to Kendra, so the sight of the ship reminds Hunter of what he almost lost.
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But all around her, workmen are hard at work removing the damaged sections, replacing them with newly forged hull plating, or repairing what can be salvaged. It's sort of like watching a doctor do surgery on a patient, slowly nursing the wounded ship back to life. Jim's back twinges in sympathy, and he reaches back to idly rub at the small of his back, easing the momentary glitch of recovering muscles and nerves.
They're both on the road to recovery. And while Jim himself is far better off, he knows that the Enterprise will get there too, in time.
The captain glances over at Hunter, trying to gauge his thoughts.
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He turns, sensing that Jim is glancing at him. Removing his helmet, Hunter wipes away a stray tear. "I am one of those sensitive souls."
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But this trip is supposed to be a fun one, so he doesn't dwell on the matter. "I can't wait to see her back up there again. She's meant to fly."
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It has been quite some time since he had taken a bike tour. He is glad to be able to do one with Jim.
Had to write this twice because my iPod ate it the first time :(
For a short while the road is paralleled by a high fence, and on the other side, away from the road, is a great gaping trench in the earth. Battered signs posted at periodic intervals along the fence proclaim it to be the Washington County Quarry, and that trespassers will be prosecuted. Jim can't resist throwing a slightly smug grin in its direction, wondering if the wreck of the Corvette still lies at the bottom.
It's about thirty-five miles before the city of Cedar Rapids begins to come into view in the distance, its tall buildings rising up on the horizon. Not quite as impressive and majestic as the shipyards, but expansive nonetheless, its structures a mix of old twentieth century and more modern twenty-third century construction. As they get closer, there begins to be more traffic on the roads, mostly hovercars that don't touch the pavement, and a few public transportation vehicles.
that sucks when it happens
He is enjoying all the sites too. The Washington County Quarry. And then the tall buildings of Cedar Rapids.
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The Cedar Rapids Museum of Art is downtown, and they have to cross over a wide river to get there. Jim slows further as they roll up outside the museum, a wireframe sculpture on the front lawn indicating they're in the right place. There's a small strip along the edge of the road that seems to be reserved for parking, and he rolls the bike to a stop inside the marked-off zone. "One good thing about biking is finding parking is easy," he remarks to Hunter, once the other man can hear him.
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When they slow down, Hunter notes the wireframe sculpture on the front lawn. He parks the bike beside Jim's bike. He laughs at Jim's comment, turning his bike off and removing his helmet.
"And pretty easy to navigate around traffic."
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Dreamwidth at it again...
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