Ok - I wish I came in on this earlier, to finish the larger story, but I think it works as well as a standalone set of scenes.
"Do you take this ship..."
"Do you take this ship..."
"Captain Kirk to the bridge.." The anonymous voice cut through the music program, leaving the room in silence, waiting for a reply.
"Sonovabitch..." With a heavy sigh, Kirk rolled from his bunk, pulled on his recently-abandoned tunic, and hauled himself towards the door again. He had just left the bridge for the third time today - what could they possibly have done in twenty minutes that needed him back in the chair again? On his way out the door, he punched the intercom button. Hard. "on my way..."
Outside his door, deck six was on the tail end of the shift change, with two lanes of personnel rushing away from their duty stations. For them, it was eight-on, sixteen off; the cramped enlisted billets were only their first stop for the evening. A quick change out of duty uniforms, and they were off to spend some free time before retiring to their bunks. The rec deck was invariably the most populous area of the ship, any given hour of the day - and Kirk had seen and signed the LS usage reports to prove it.
Not that he'd ever actually seen the place yet...
The crowd parted like the Red Sea for him, making a hole for the Commanding Officer of the Enterprise. Some he recognised from his graduating class, others as upperclassmen from his freshman year. Some, apparently, had graduated when he was in Kindergarten. The one thing they all had in common was a tangible distaste for the Federation wunderkind that they had to make way for. He avoided their eyes, commandeered the first turbolift he came across, and found a brief moment of solitude as the lift carried him to the bridge.
------------------------------------------
"Captain on the bridge!," announced the closest ensign to his entrance, snapping his spine straight, as if someone had suddenly shoved an alien probe up his digestive tract exit. "Don't do that...," Kirk mumbled for the 45th time this week, and turned his attention to the general population staring expectantly at him.
He waited. They waited. They needed a cue. "You called...?"
"Incoming transmission from Starfleet Command, sir;" Lieutenant M'ress replied smartly. Uhura's shift ended half an hoiur ago. Kirk couldn't help but glance to his right - Spock's station was similarly repopulated. "Admiral Komack standing by..."
Kirk made his way to the command chair, but stopped short of sitting down - frankly, his ass hurt from ten hours in the thing already. He leaned lightly against the chair arm and gestured generally in the direction of the viewport. Komack's visage overlaid the starfield. "Admiral Komack," The captain acknowledged deferentially, "what can we do for you?"
Captain Kirk. The Enterprise is being re-routed to Varris II, to transport a trade delegation to Kathem. Particulars to follow." Komack slammed his mouth shut like a crypt, almost defying Kirk to respond with anything more than an acknowledgement.
"Acknowledged, sir."
But Komack wasn't done. "Captain, this may not be some kind of cowboy gunfight, but the Federation is very interested in the success of these talks. If I had any other choice, I would assign a more diplomatically seasoned crew to deal with this situation. But..."
"But we're the only ship in the quadrant," Kirk finished. "Understood sir."
Komack paused to see if he could determine the scent of insubordination, and, finding nothing actionable, he moved his jaw again. Briefly. "Komack Out."
The screen dissolved to a starfield once more. Kirk felt a sharp, throbbing pain starting to develop between his brows, and exhaled deeply. "Lieutenant Arex, time to Varris II at warp 4?"
The Edosian made quick work of the calculations. "At warp 4, we would make orbit in twelve hours, sir." Kirk nodded, and turned to the communications officer.
"M'ress, contact the Varissians, and tell them we will be arriving in sixteen hours. Arex, get us there in sixteen hours - warp 3-point... whatever; you have the Con." Kirk walked away from the command chair without looking back. Over his shoulder, he announced, "If you need me... call Spock instead."
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"Don't you ever knock?"
Kirk stood framed in McCoy's open doorway, leaking light and ambient sound into his sanctuary, apparently holding himself up with the door frame.The doctor put down his book and crossed the room, pulling Kirk through the gap by his collar. "Get out of the way - you're letting the ship in."
With the door closed, the comforting dark and the sound of saxophone jazz reoccupied the room."Medical emergency, Bones," the captain sighed," What is that - Varuso?"
McCoy snorted derisively, moving towards his sideboard. "Varuso's a hack - Coltrane. So... that would be a whisky, or scotch emergency?"
"Scotch. On ice." Kirk dropped unceremoniously onto the doctor's couch, snatched the offered glass and took the full dose at once, feeling the ice crack against his teeth. He handed the glass back. "I don't want this..."
Examining the bottom of the glass skeptically, McCoy countered,"You drank it fast enough...
"The scotch I want - keep it coming. It's the ship I can do without." He took the refill and applied it to his forehead. "I've spent the better part of twelve hours today signing reports, getting briefed on the operational status of systems I've never heard of... did you know I have to approve the ship's menu before they program it into the replicators?"
The doctor settled into the chair opposite him, placing the bottle between them. "That was you? The meatloaf stinks, by the way."
"At least you had time to eat it." Kirk looked askance at his glass. Now he had a headache and a cold forehead. He took a short pull from it, and let the glass settle towards his lap. "And somebody to blame for it. Every single person in the fleet, from the admiralty to the janitorial crews, seems dead-set on watching me screw up. I didn't ask for this command..."
"You could've fooled anyone who saw you take command against the Narada - you took that center chair like Grant took Richmond."
Kirk started, almost offended by the implication. "I only did what I had to do - if I had let Spock send us off after the fleet, Earth would be sucking in Jupiter right now..."
"That's right," McCoy nodded, pointing his glass pointedly at Kirk," - you did what you had to do.
"And you were hell-bent on doing it, too, pushing any damned man, woman or child out of your way to get it done. Starfleet may not have liked your style, your inexperience or your methods, Jim, but the one thing they can't deny is that if you had done anything differently, Earth would be gone. Whether you like it or not - hell, whether they like it or not - that's what they need in that chair up there."
"What they need in that chair is an office clerk. Or a diplomat. Or a factory manager." Kirk closed his eyes and let the whisky and jazz work on his nerves.
McCoy observed him thoughtfully for a moment, tapping gently on the side of his glass. Then he spoke."Jim... what do you know about Irish mythology?"
One eye opened quizzically. "You mean, like leprechauns?"
"Like the Tuatha De Dannan - the Irish Olympians. They lived on Tara - the seat of kings. One day, a guy showed up at their door, and wanted to join this august assembly. They asked him what he could do, worthy of gaining entrance. He said he could cook - but they already had one. He said he could doctor - but they already had one. He said he was a bard, a fighter, a tactician - they already had those too. Well, the conversation went on that way for a while, and then the guy asked, 'So - who do you have that can do all of these things?'
"And that's when he had 'em."
Kirk opened his eyes and turned towards him; McCoy put down his glass sharply to punctuate the moment, and leaned into the conversation for the kill.
"You want a demotion? An eight-hour shift, and a chance to chase yeomen? Fine - where do you want to go?
You want to be one of the bully-boys in security? You want to go work down in Engineering? Maybe steer the ship, or sit around waiting to aim the phasers? You're the one who pushed through the Academy like a comet - what did you think you wanted to do when you got out?
"You want that chair. You might not like the responsibilities, and that's tough. Because you're either going to have to be that one guy that can do everything, or just another guy that can only do the one thing he's told he's supposed to do - there are no other options on this, or any other ship in the fleet."
Kirk opened his mouth... and closed it again. Defeated, he muttered,"...I thought bartenders were supposed to lend a sympathetic ear."
"Bartenders do. I, on the other hand, was a simple shift doctor until he was hand-picked to take over the Chief Medical position by the new Captain. Do you want to see my new piles of paperwork? Or the staff count of nurses I am now ineligible to charm by Starfleet regulation? I'm towing your line , Captain, Sir. You can damned well tow your own."
Kirk smiled wanly. "Sorry about that." He emptied the rest of the glass and stood up."And thanks for the rest of it."
"Leaving so soon?"
Kirk nodded. " I have sixteen hours to learn about Varissian customs and the Kathem trade talks. I promised Admiral Komack I wouldn't shoot any of the delegates..."
McCoy rose, and clapped the captain on the back sympathetically, leading him to the door. "Well, there's your first mistake right there. Have you ever met a Varissian? I had one in Exobiology as a lab partner... you should have promised just not to kill them. There's only so much diplomacy they can reasonably expect a man to have..."
"Sonovabitch..." With a heavy sigh, Kirk rolled from his bunk, pulled on his recently-abandoned tunic, and hauled himself towards the door again. He had just left the bridge for the third time today - what could they possibly have done in twenty minutes that needed him back in the chair again? On his way out the door, he punched the intercom button. Hard. "on my way..."
Outside his door, deck six was on the tail end of the shift change, with two lanes of personnel rushing away from their duty stations. For them, it was eight-on, sixteen off; the cramped enlisted billets were only their first stop for the evening. A quick change out of duty uniforms, and they were off to spend some free time before retiring to their bunks. The rec deck was invariably the most populous area of the ship, any given hour of the day - and Kirk had seen and signed the LS usage reports to prove it.
Not that he'd ever actually seen the place yet...
The crowd parted like the Red Sea for him, making a hole for the Commanding Officer of the Enterprise. Some he recognised from his graduating class, others as upperclassmen from his freshman year. Some, apparently, had graduated when he was in Kindergarten. The one thing they all had in common was a tangible distaste for the Federation wunderkind that they had to make way for. He avoided their eyes, commandeered the first turbolift he came across, and found a brief moment of solitude as the lift carried him to the bridge.
------------------------------------------
"Captain on the bridge!," announced the closest ensign to his entrance, snapping his spine straight, as if someone had suddenly shoved an alien probe up his digestive tract exit. "Don't do that...," Kirk mumbled for the 45th time this week, and turned his attention to the general population staring expectantly at him.
He waited. They waited. They needed a cue. "You called...?"
"Incoming transmission from Starfleet Command, sir;" Lieutenant M'ress replied smartly. Uhura's shift ended half an hoiur ago. Kirk couldn't help but glance to his right - Spock's station was similarly repopulated. "Admiral Komack standing by..."
Kirk made his way to the command chair, but stopped short of sitting down - frankly, his ass hurt from ten hours in the thing already. He leaned lightly against the chair arm and gestured generally in the direction of the viewport. Komack's visage overlaid the starfield. "Admiral Komack," The captain acknowledged deferentially, "what can we do for you?"
Captain Kirk. The Enterprise is being re-routed to Varris II, to transport a trade delegation to Kathem. Particulars to follow." Komack slammed his mouth shut like a crypt, almost defying Kirk to respond with anything more than an acknowledgement.
"Acknowledged, sir."
But Komack wasn't done. "Captain, this may not be some kind of cowboy gunfight, but the Federation is very interested in the success of these talks. If I had any other choice, I would assign a more diplomatically seasoned crew to deal with this situation. But..."
"But we're the only ship in the quadrant," Kirk finished. "Understood sir."
Komack paused to see if he could determine the scent of insubordination, and, finding nothing actionable, he moved his jaw again. Briefly. "Komack Out."
The screen dissolved to a starfield once more. Kirk felt a sharp, throbbing pain starting to develop between his brows, and exhaled deeply. "Lieutenant Arex, time to Varris II at warp 4?"
The Edosian made quick work of the calculations. "At warp 4, we would make orbit in twelve hours, sir." Kirk nodded, and turned to the communications officer.
"M'ress, contact the Varissians, and tell them we will be arriving in sixteen hours. Arex, get us there in sixteen hours - warp 3-point... whatever; you have the Con." Kirk walked away from the command chair without looking back. Over his shoulder, he announced, "If you need me... call Spock instead."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Don't you ever knock?"
Kirk stood framed in McCoy's open doorway, leaking light and ambient sound into his sanctuary, apparently holding himself up with the door frame.The doctor put down his book and crossed the room, pulling Kirk through the gap by his collar. "Get out of the way - you're letting the ship in."
With the door closed, the comforting dark and the sound of saxophone jazz reoccupied the room."Medical emergency, Bones," the captain sighed," What is that - Varuso?"
McCoy snorted derisively, moving towards his sideboard. "Varuso's a hack - Coltrane. So... that would be a whisky, or scotch emergency?"
"Scotch. On ice." Kirk dropped unceremoniously onto the doctor's couch, snatched the offered glass and took the full dose at once, feeling the ice crack against his teeth. He handed the glass back. "I don't want this..."
Examining the bottom of the glass skeptically, McCoy countered,"You drank it fast enough...
"The scotch I want - keep it coming. It's the ship I can do without." He took the refill and applied it to his forehead. "I've spent the better part of twelve hours today signing reports, getting briefed on the operational status of systems I've never heard of... did you know I have to approve the ship's menu before they program it into the replicators?"
The doctor settled into the chair opposite him, placing the bottle between them. "That was you? The meatloaf stinks, by the way."
"At least you had time to eat it." Kirk looked askance at his glass. Now he had a headache and a cold forehead. He took a short pull from it, and let the glass settle towards his lap. "And somebody to blame for it. Every single person in the fleet, from the admiralty to the janitorial crews, seems dead-set on watching me screw up. I didn't ask for this command..."
"You could've fooled anyone who saw you take command against the Narada - you took that center chair like Grant took Richmond."
Kirk started, almost offended by the implication. "I only did what I had to do - if I had let Spock send us off after the fleet, Earth would be sucking in Jupiter right now..."
"That's right," McCoy nodded, pointing his glass pointedly at Kirk," - you did what you had to do.
"And you were hell-bent on doing it, too, pushing any damned man, woman or child out of your way to get it done. Starfleet may not have liked your style, your inexperience or your methods, Jim, but the one thing they can't deny is that if you had done anything differently, Earth would be gone. Whether you like it or not - hell, whether they like it or not - that's what they need in that chair up there."
"What they need in that chair is an office clerk. Or a diplomat. Or a factory manager." Kirk closed his eyes and let the whisky and jazz work on his nerves.
McCoy observed him thoughtfully for a moment, tapping gently on the side of his glass. Then he spoke."Jim... what do you know about Irish mythology?"
One eye opened quizzically. "You mean, like leprechauns?"
"Like the Tuatha De Dannan - the Irish Olympians. They lived on Tara - the seat of kings. One day, a guy showed up at their door, and wanted to join this august assembly. They asked him what he could do, worthy of gaining entrance. He said he could cook - but they already had one. He said he could doctor - but they already had one. He said he was a bard, a fighter, a tactician - they already had those too. Well, the conversation went on that way for a while, and then the guy asked, 'So - who do you have that can do all of these things?'
"And that's when he had 'em."
Kirk opened his eyes and turned towards him; McCoy put down his glass sharply to punctuate the moment, and leaned into the conversation for the kill.
"You want a demotion? An eight-hour shift, and a chance to chase yeomen? Fine - where do you want to go?
You want to be one of the bully-boys in security? You want to go work down in Engineering? Maybe steer the ship, or sit around waiting to aim the phasers? You're the one who pushed through the Academy like a comet - what did you think you wanted to do when you got out?
"You want that chair. You might not like the responsibilities, and that's tough. Because you're either going to have to be that one guy that can do everything, or just another guy that can only do the one thing he's told he's supposed to do - there are no other options on this, or any other ship in the fleet."
Kirk opened his mouth... and closed it again. Defeated, he muttered,"...I thought bartenders were supposed to lend a sympathetic ear."
"Bartenders do. I, on the other hand, was a simple shift doctor until he was hand-picked to take over the Chief Medical position by the new Captain. Do you want to see my new piles of paperwork? Or the staff count of nurses I am now ineligible to charm by Starfleet regulation? I'm towing your line , Captain, Sir. You can damned well tow your own."
Kirk smiled wanly. "Sorry about that." He emptied the rest of the glass and stood up."And thanks for the rest of it."
"Leaving so soon?"
Kirk nodded. " I have sixteen hours to learn about Varissian customs and the Kathem trade talks. I promised Admiral Komack I wouldn't shoot any of the delegates..."
McCoy rose, and clapped the captain on the back sympathetically, leading him to the door. "Well, there's your first mistake right there. Have you ever met a Varissian? I had one in Exobiology as a lab partner... you should have promised just not to kill them. There's only so much diplomacy they can reasonably expect a man to have..."
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