boldygoing | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

He's known this could be coming for three years.

There was never any guarantee it would even happen. Timelines are touchy, unpredictable. One small detail may divert the entire course of the future. A major event might have surprisingly little impact, in the end. There are few who are more aware of the dangers of messing with time than James T. Kirk, and he's done his best not to think too hard on it, during his time out in the black.

But it's been impossible to avoid it completely.

There's no guarantee that he'll survive, just because his alternate did. No guarantee that this is even the same danger that he faced, despite the proximity to Yorktown. No promises of who lives and who dies, even if he acts exactly as he would have without any forewarning. Is this where his universe diverges again?

He can't think about that. Not right now. Can't go to the Nexus for help when their involvement might mean more deaths, might mean a greater catastrophe than the one already looming over his head. He has no time for anything but the here and now, and as the ship's lighting darkens to Red Alert, Jim's attention is firmly focused on the ship and his crew.

It seems to go on forever. It seems to take little time at all.

The mechanical swarm rips the Enterprise to shreds, amputating her nacelles. Decapitating her saucer. Broken shards spiraling off into the endless black, bodies and debris and great clouds of oxygen. The ship shudders and screams beneath his feet as she's torn apart, creating a swarm of her own as escape pods pop off all over the shattered pieces of the ship. Jim does not see what becomes of them. He is the last to leave the bridge, knowing even as he does that there could be others still trapped in the saucer as it descends towards the rocky planet below, her leading edge glowing orange-hot as atmosphere compresses at her bow. His escape pod joins the smoke trails leaking from the broken saucer, its transparent canopy giving him a clear view as what remains of his beloved ship strikes the mountains and comes to a shuddering halt, half-buried in scarred earth.

There is no time for regrets. No time to think on what else he might have done differently, no time to wonder about other timelines and other Enterprises. No time to think of Hunter.

This is survival.

And if there's one thing Jim knows, it's survival.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Starfleet Academy's campus is never really quiet, even in the break between semesters. The mess hall is nearly always busy during daylight hours, a constant influx and exodus of cadets arriving to eat with friends or take a meal back to their dorms. It's a regular meetup spot for friends on different specialization paths, and one where Faris and Chanath often meet Hunter after morning classes are done.

The Shontin sits in her favorite spot in the corner table, a datapad on the table in front of her as she scrolls through the latest news. Only a handful of years is not nearly enough time to learn everything there is to know of the Federation and its multitude of worlds, but she and her symbiont have been eager to consume every scrap of knowledge they can find regardless.

The red-gold glint of Faris's scales are visible at her collarbones, one green eye peeking out from where she has opened the front of her uniform shirt. He, too, is reading the datapad alongside his host while he rests, occasionally rising out above her skin enough to be fed a morsel of bread roll from the plate at her elbow.

Hunter is reading an art book, as they sit at the mess hall table. It is nice to have a little break between semesters. It was even nicer to be able to see Jim and have some time with his boyfriend.

After having Faris on his skin personally, Hunter doesn't find the occasional appearance weird.

His thoughts are reflecting on what he should do, if anything, to distract Jim from his upcoming birthday. Maybe they can watch a movie. Or paint together. Something just the two of them....

Faris is the one who spots it first, his head rising up from his host's skin. "Scroll down," he says, all idleness gone from his voice.

Chanath does so, her long fingers moving the page to the next article, freshly pushed to the datapad. YORKTOWN ATTACKED, ENTERPRISE LOST the headline says, and both of them look at Hunter across the table.

"Hunter," Faris says, his voice low and urgent. "There is news you must see."

Hunter moves to look at the datapad, and immediately drops the book in his hand. He feels panicky, remembering how Jim told him that Yorkton was where he was heading.

"What... no... this..." He fumbles for his PINpoint.

And attempts to send a message to Jim.

The message pings out across space, reaching Jim's PINpoint. It does not bounce back, the receiving device still intact. But there is no answer, no sign that any reply is being constructed.

Faris leans further out of his host's open shirt front, reaching out his paws to tap the article and read it. It is frustratingly brief, but there is enough for hope, the K'da thinks.

"The journalist has little detail to relay, as it is a developing story," he reports out loud, and begins to read the article verbatim. "'However, it is confirmed that several crew members of the Enterprise were vital to saving the station.'"

It is not a bad sign... but with no response it still is not a good sign either. And Hunter doesn't know how to feel about this.

"Does he make any mention of Captain Kirk?" Hunter knows that Jim would put his ship and his crew first.

"No. There are no names listed," Faris reports, and though Hunter cannot see it, his tail is twitching thoughtfully across Chanath's flank. "The article is very brief."

"Perhaps we should find a broadcast," Chanath suggests, and while her face is not flexible enough to express worry, it's plain enough in her voice.

"We better do that." Hunter agrees. He doesn't like this sense of helplessness that sits in his soul right now.

"I don't think he would have gone to the Nexus... with his crew in trouble. And I don't want to worry anyone else."

"And I need to get Zunar. If anything did happen, he will feel it."

Chanath nods, and gets to her feet quickly, grabbing her lunch tray to dispose of it in the recycler. Faris keeps hold of the datapad, one paw sticking out of the front of her shirt until his host can claim it. Then she falls into step with Hunter as they head back to the dorm.

Snow crunches underneath her footwear as they cross the open campus, passing other students clad in cadet reds. The dorm lies ahead, a large building with many floors, and several communal rooms near the entrance. The Shontin stops and stamps her feet at the doorway to remove hard-packed snow from her boots' treads, and already she can hear the sound of a broadcast being viewed in one of the common areas.

"...witnesses compare the attacking fleet to a swarm of insects, and the wreckage indicates there may have been thousands if not tens of thousands of drones involved. Official Starfleet sources currently have no comment on the identity of the attackers..."

Hunter pauses to listen to the broadcast for a minute. He turns to Faris and Chanath and says, "Let me know if anything else is said."

He heads to his dorm room, to open the door and find Zunar.

Then returns to the common room, to listen to more of the broadcast.

The kneazle has been settling in well to his temporary home away from home. Even so, as soon as the door slides open, he meows and leaps right up into Hunter's arms, bumping his head against the man's chin. Zunar is clearly disturbed by something, though not in a panic, purring loudly.

The viewscreen in the common room is surrounded by their fellow cadets, everyone's attention on the images being shown on the screen. Yorktown base is a marvel of Federation engineering, a glass globe encasing city spires that radiate out from a central point. Normally it's a pristine, shining city, but most of the images focus on the jagged holes that have been blown in the spacedock doors, or through buildings. Strangest of all is a crashed ship - not the Enterprise, far too small, far too old. Hunter will have seen ships like it in history classes, from the very early days of Starfleet a century ago.

Edited 2021-01-11 01:29 (UTC)

The fact that Zunar is not completely acting out of character helps Hunter focus a little better more. It must mean that Jim is not in a dangerous situation. And he keeps Zunar close by in his arms, stroking the kneazle's fur.

"That is a pretty old ship..." Hunter notes to Chanath and Faris.

He takes a picture of the screen with his PINpoint. And closes his eyes for a moment. He doesn't know what he can do right now, and staring at the wreckage of one ship while knowing the Enterprise itself was destroyed is a little upsetting.

Zunar bumps his head against Hunter's hand, encouraging the pets when it seems that the man is likely to stop. It's not entirely self-serving - the kneazle does this for Jim, too, when the other man is under stress. Which has been too much, lately. His purr resonates through Hunter's chest, kneading his paws at the man's shirt.

Chanath has saved Hunter a seat on one of the couches in the common room, her shawl pushed back off her shoulder so that Faris may more easily view the screen from her chest. She looks over at him when he sits down, and pats at his knee in what little comfort she can offer, despite the destruction on the screen.

"They have said it is the USS Franklin," she reports. "A ship that disappeared during the early days of the Federation. It emerged from the same nebula as the attacking ships."

"It is also where the Enterprise was last sent," Faris adds, his eyes on the screen. The footage must be being taken from an aerial camera of some sort, slowly circling the scene from a distance. Figures in red, blue, and yellow uniforms are swarming the ship, some being evacuated in medical shuttles while others seem to be engaged in conversation with figures in gray admiral's uniforms. On the broadcast, the anchor is narrating the scene, but with few details of importance. First among them being the identities of the crew of the Franklin, some of their uniforms looking too modern to be from a century ago.

Hunter focuses on the screen, as he tries to figure out more clues to what has happened. He keeps one hand on Zunar, petting the kneazle and letting the resonating purr keep him calm.

He taps Chanath's hand on his knee, in appreciation of the comfort offered.

"Those are current uniforms for a crew that disappeared in the early days of the Federation." While the camera is not giving any up close shots of the people on the scene... Hunter still tries to scan for any sighting of Jim.

There's a weird yet aimless tension in the room as the cadets watch the broadcast, constant images of destruction on the screen. Exterior shots of Yorktown surrounded by spinning dark debris, spacedock doors that have been blown open from the outside, distant shots of the ship crashed into the plaza. A commodore with a deep, gravelly voice gives a short yet vague briefing that the situation is under control and the details are currently under investigation, but no names are given. No casualty count. No explicit details of what has happened to the Enterprise, nor her crew.

An hour passes. Then more.

It's late in Yorktown, the city's lights dimming with the start of the night cycle. It's been hours since the crisis came to an end, and Jim has been busy ever since. Busy debriefing Commodore Paris, busy debriefing Starfleet Command in a secure session. Busy checking on his crew - the ones that survived, that is. Busy getting fussed over by Yorktown medics, his injuries relatively minor in the grand scheme of things.

The door to his temporary quarters slides shut behind him, and Jim unfastens the front of his dirty survival suit, running a hand across his face and through his hair as the exhaustion starts to sink in. The events of the past day - or has it been two? - hardly feel real still, and he keeps listening for the reassuring constant hum of engines, but the floor is silent beneath his feet.

It's been a long day.

Ready to shower and call it a night, it's only habit that makes him check his PINpoint, and he does a double-take when he sees that there's an unread message. The timestamp places it hours ago.

The shower and sleep will have to wait.

There's a small terminal in the room, and Jim does not hesitate to turn on the visual pickup and punch in the number for Hunter's dorm room. Jim looks rough - hair mussed, emergency uniform streaked with dust and small glittering shards of glass, a scrape across one cheek and one eye blackened with a bruise. But a PINpoint message is not going to be enough.

Even with little information in the briefings on the broadcast, Hunter has stayed glued to the screen for most of the day. Zunar in his lap. It would take Chanath and Faris reminding him to make sure he eats too.

It is so frustrating that no details are being released. And that he does not know what happened to the Enterprise or her crew.

Finally, it is only as curfew sets in that Hunter returns to his dorm room, after bidding an uneasy farewell to both Chanath and Faris.

He was sitting on his bed, still petting Zunar for stress relief, when his dorm room console alerts him to the video call. It is alarming to see Jim in the state that he is in. And Hunter reaches out to the screen.

"Are you okay?" His voice breaks with the question, emotions flooding him.

Despite the bruise on his face, Jim offers up a tired yet heartfelt smile, a pang of guilt in his belly at that worried look on Hunter's face. How much has he heard? Jim has not had time to check the news. "Hunter, hey," he says, voice soft. "I'm all right. Just superficial. Are you okay?"

"I..." Hunter runs his hands over the top of his head, a sign that no he is not okay. Not emotionally.

"I basically have been worried about you since the new hit the broadcast channel. They are not releasing any information. And hearing that the Enterprise was lost..."

Panic hits him fresh all over again. "I don't know what I am allowed to ask you. Or what I can do..."

God, if one of them could come to the other right now, Jim would do it in a heartbeat. But the Academy dorms are not secure enough, and Jim does not have the authority to put his temporary quarters in total lockdown either. He leans forward, concern furrowing his brow, getting closer to the visual pickup.

"Hey, whoa, take a deep breath. Focus on me, all right? I'm safe. Zunar, help me out?"

The kneazle is already on his way to Hunter's lap, meowing loudly and shoving his head into the man's chest. If Hunter does not respond, he puts his paws up on Hunter's chest and nudges at his chin, insisting on physical comfort. I'm here for you. We're all okay.

It takes a moment or two, before Hunter responds to the kneazle in his lap, and runs his fingers through Zunar's fur. When he looks back up to the screen, his eyes are wet with worry and concern.

He takes a breath. And put a hand on the screen. Hating the fact that he can not be there in person.

"I am glad you are safe. Though it looks like you went through a lot."

There we go. Zunar cuddles close, his purrs loud enough to rumble in Hunter's chest.

Jim watches Hunter grapple with his emotions, wishing more than anything that he could be there in person. The tension in his shoulders relaxes a fraction, and he nods faintly. "It's been a hell of a day. Or two." He rubs his hand across his face again, rumpling the hair that's flopped across his forehead. "Okay. So. You heard about the Enterprise." He's not surprised that tidbit made it through to the broadcasts, but with no idea how much else was said, he's not sure where to start. This is not the first debriefing he's given today, but it's more personal. Closer to the heart.

Right. First thing's first. "Some of the crew didn't make it," he says, and though it cuts deep to lose anyone after all this time, it rests easier on his shoulders than it once would have. This is the risk that Starfleet takes, and he does not blame himself for their deaths. Well. Maybe a little. "I don't have exact figures yet, but a few dozen at least. Most of them made it out safely. Spock took a bad hit near the heart; he's going to be okay though. Everyone else you've met is all right."

"That must have been difficult... losing the Enterprise and some of the crew members..." While it is a relief that none of the few senior members that Hunter has met are okay, he still feels sorrow for those that lost their lives.

"When you have time, send me their crew profiles. I will create portrait memorials." He has done that before. It will feel different this time, actually going through the Academy himself.

"Is there any supplies I can send?"

Oh, Hunter. Already trying to find some way he can help, something he can do, even from thousands of lightyears away. No matter what his own fears had been. How could Jim not love him? Tired though he is, there's warmth in Jim's eyes when he looks at his boyfriend on the other end of the transmission, easing the lines that stress has etched into his face. "Starfleet has us set up with the basics. Commodore Paris has allocated quarters for us until we get our next orders. Um, not sure what they're going to do, but a new ship might be an option."

Only three years into a five year mission... will Starfleet scrub it completely, or continue onward? Jim thinks of chess nights aboard an Enterprise that isn't his, and hope has settled firmly in his chest.

"Once things are cleaned up here, I'll see if we can get back to the crash site to see if anything's salvageable," he adds. "The saucer got smashed around a lot but it was mostly intact, so we'll probably be able to save some personal items." But he knows well how it can help to have something to do, some way to help, so he smiles tiredly into the visual pickup. "I could use a book or two, in the meantime."

Hunter is a little disappointed that the one thing he could do, which was to send supplies, is gently refused. But it makes sense. Starfleet would question if a whole lot of supplies suddenly arrived.

"Do you know how long you will be assigned to the allocated quarters?" How long will they have to continue to be separated like this. Hunter knows that the secret PINpoint dates are unlikely to happen again in the near future.

"I can send you a few books." He nods with understanding.

Jim shakes his head, pretty sure he can guess what Hunter is thinking. "Not yet. If I know Starfleet, it'll be at least a week before they decide what to do with us. There's a shipyard here on Yorktown, so they might have us stay for a while." But that doesn't mean they'll be separated the entire time, of course. "We'll probably get some downtime out of this. Once things settle down."

In Hunter's lap, Zunar rubs his furry head against the man's hands, purring steadily. See, human, everything will be all right.

Jim's smile dims just slightly. "It was a trap," he says, and even if Starfleet wants to keep the details under wraps, that's not going to stop him from keeping his boyfriend in the loop. Enough so his imagination won't be running wild, giving him nightmares of what might have happened. "Someone with a grudge against the Federation from a long time ago. They baited us into the nebula and cut the Enterprise apart. We separated the saucer section; it crashed on the same planet Krall was using as a base. He wasn't the only one there though. Her name's Jaylah, she did most of the heavy lifting fixing up the USS Franklin over the years she was trapped there. We took her with us when we got off the planet."

Hunter frowns. At one time, he had really had hoped there could be less secretive dates. So he could openly spend time with Jim, without worrying about someone finding him. And it just sounds like their relationship has to be pushed back into a dark corner again. He hates that.

"That sucks." He says to the information about it being a trap. "But it sounds like you met someone useful."

Jim nods, a small smile on his lips. "Yeah, she might be joining you at the Academy soon, actually. Starfleet could use crew like her. I intend to put in a good word for her."

He can see that unhappiness on Hunter's face, though. God, why do they have to be so far apart right now? All Jim wants to do is hold him in his arms. "If they do give us another ship, I'm going to need more crew," he adds softly. "You're still on track for graduation, right?"

The fact that Jim already put in a good word to Starfleet about Jaylah gets a slight raised eyebrow. There is a tinge of jealously there -- not because he is worried about Jim betraying their romantic relationship, but more envious about how close Jaylah was able to get to already be considered someone to recommend.

It is not fair. He can't be there. He can't be at Jim's side.

He knows that the Senior Crew, and now Jaylah, have Jim's back. But he would really prefer to be there himself.

Luckily, the fact that Jim is asking about Hunter's graduation does give him some hope back. That they can serve on a ship together.

"I am. I needed some mental time from classes after... learning what happened today."

Jim nods, a sympathetic crease between his eyebrows. "Yeah, I bet. I... haven't taken a look at the news yet, but I can imagine."

What a mess today has been.

But it could have been a lot worse, too.

But as tired as Jim is, it's only a physical exhaustion. The lethargic apathy that had been creeping up on him, little by little, has been pushed back and left him more determined than ever to see this mission through. And the thought that Hunter could be joining him soon... he smiles a little, and nods. "If they send us back out there," he says, leaning forward a little, as if that could bring him closer to Hunter, "I'm not going without you."

Hunter reaches out to touch the screen. His fingers caressing over where Jim's face is... as if he could transfer the light caress despite the distance.

"You just have to stay safe, until I can join you then." Hunter notes softly.

"That's the plan." Jim doesn't have the slightest idea what comes next, but at the same time, that's kind of exciting. The shadow of today has hung over him for a long time coming, and now that it's over, it's as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders that he hadn't even realized was there.

He smiles gently. "Get some rest, okay? I'll call you tomorrow."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only