James Tiberius Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
boldygoing) wrote2021-01-02 05:34 pm
boldygoing) wrote2021-01-02 05:34 pm
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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.
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.
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He smiles gently. "Get some rest, okay? I'll call you tomorrow."