The pulse in Jim's neck throbbed as he sat like a stanchion in 'The Chair.' Jaylah had Okayed it, with much good-natured humoring from Kirk. No amount of pouting and scowling could have dissuaded him from occupying the seat of command, where a Starfleet captain rightfully belonged. Regardless of how long said chair had gone unoccupied by a Starfleet captain. Jim had been gracious about it though. They might have shared the chair, or he'd even toyed with the idea of having the powerful beauty sit in his lap, but he kept that idea snugly to himself. She had taken a shine to 'Montgomery Scotty.' Let it never be said that James T. Kirk, despite being a womanizer at heart, would stoop to wooing away a good friend's lady. Or in this case, perspective lady.
Aside from that, there was too much at stake to allow for any distractions. Adrenaline, coursed through the captain as they geared up to fight the good fight. In the background, close to Scott, Jaylah found it hard to keep quiet. They were moments from take-off, and she kept shouting. Something about her home was strong, and would easily defeat vicious Krall and his assorted collection of fiends. She truly believed 'Montgomery Scotty' and his noble friends were here to avenge the death of her father and family, with considerable help from her. And she had lent a mighty hand getting them to this point. She found herself carefully considering their purpose and rigid determination, entrenched in their faces. These new allies, gearing up for the space battle, fed her hope. They'd truly become her friends. Come what may, she'd do whatever she could for them.
Now moments away from engaging Krall, the small crew braced for what could go sideways. Their demise being swift wasn't some farfetched idea. Their spirits were high, though, allowing no room for thinking negative thoughts. They dwelled on what lay ahead for them after Krall and the contagion he'd spawned was out of the picture.
Kirk, focused, allowed a small smile to grace his somewhat chapped lips. No, they weren't in that condition from overuse romantically. There was an acute shortage of 'babes' at the moment. This home-base of Krall's was unforgivably arid. Any water they'd found at all had been a miracle, despite the forest's lush appearance. The corners of Kirk's mouth twitched as that small, female-pleasing smile of his blossomed into a full-fledged wide grin, exposing impossibly white, straight teeth. Which, he'd spent a small fortune on. Thankfully, Starfleet was dependably good about footing the bill thanks to comprehensive medical and dental benefits.
At the ready with the musical vibes for setting the proper stage for the oncoming battle, Scott kept his voice low while whispering to Jaylah, "This should get the captain's juices ever-flowin'."
"What means this, 'juices flowin'?' He is not half-human, half-plant life, and by plant, I mean fruit is he?"
With wicked twinkles in his eyes and an especially affectionate wink for her, Scott replied, "No, no, Luv. Not at all. It's just an expression, darlin'. Meaning…Captain Kirk will give us his best, as he always does, because he'll lead us to victory. This particular ilk of 'tune-age,' shall I say, is close to his heart." Standing by, the Chief Engineer prepared to crank up one of Jim's all-time favorite tunes from his more youthful days, days of adolescent rebelliousness and all-round step-dad baiting. How his mother's new husband had made his young life a snake pit filled with every form of stupid punishment imaginable. "When we beat, 'cause I'm given to thinking positive, well as positively as is warranted given the lot of dire circumstances we've had to face, the livin' lights out of Krall, we'll have to credit his finish to the captain's 'Beastie Boys' in part for victory."
"Who are these…" Her heavily-accented, sometimes child-like voice, softly trailed. Jaylah cocked her pretty head as she cast thoughtful eyes at Scott. Her exotic facial detailing made the albino beauty quite the precise meaning of pulchritude. "'Beastly boys?'"
Scott snorted through a mild chuckle, not wanting to get too far into it. At a later date, and he sure hoped there'd be one, he would elaborate. "Suffice it to say, they were an American rap rock band from New York City, a right scandalous lot." Pausing, he had to think. "I get them confused much with the Sex Pistols. Anyway, the BBs formed later. That's right. They got together in the year nineteen hundred and eighty, give or take an Earth year." Nodding sympathetically, since Jaylah looked all kinds of lost, Scott had to admit, "Ancient Earth music to be sure, but just the kind to set the tone for this take-no-prisoners onrush." Involuntarily, he shuddered, contemplating the causes and effects of warfare. The scope of this all-out attack this confrontation had shaped up to be was staggering. Starfleet wasn't a military concern, and yet it seemed as though every time they turned around, nothing short of all-out war was necessary, and fell to them to wage. A given that needed to be played out over and over again in vast, awe-inspiring space-scape.
Fighting enemies at every turn wasn't what he'd signed up for. And yet, when his friends looked to him, dependent on his skills and expertise to get them through, how could he think of letting them down? Oh, no, not on anyone's life could he ever do that. He'd learned from the Khan experience that abandoning his Starfleet 'family' was impossible. Blaring out-of-date was his latest brainchild to discombobulate the swarm, screwing up their communication. Krall thought he was so smart, but Mr. Scott was smarter, far cleverer than the twisted ex-Starfleet officer.
It was time to set the stage, and Scott did so admirably, slamming the play-box that was set for maximum decibel output with the butt of his fist.
When the first eardrum-brutalizing strains of 'Saboteur' blared in the flight deck wherein expectation, nerves and tension ran high, James T. choked back a teary war-cry. His mind flashed, referring back to a not so distant time, to that sizzling hot day when he'd stolen his stepfather's treasured Corvette for a joyride over the dusty roads of Riverside, Iowa. Sure, he'd destroyed the vintage car. He'd never meant to, but destroyed it had wound up. He'd totaled it, but good, when he'd driven it over the edge of that jagged quarry cliff. Good times!
Gloating, as he'd done back then, Kirk whooped with glee, "Totally appropriate!" A delicious look, a cross between reflection and rebellion transformed his face, with the cunning look in his eyes, into a mask of untenable resolve. Purposefully, bent on besting Krall at his own demented game, he uttered, "Let's do this!" Poised to engage Krall's seemingly endless horde, the captain and his ragtag crew went into attack mode as, all the while, the Beastie Boys screamed their bellicose lyrics.
The indecipherable words of Kirk's wayward anthem perplexed Jaylah as much as they galvanized Kirk. "The music of these beastly boys makes no sense," she contended. "What means…" She shook her head from side-to-side as though by sheer self-duress alone, she would force herself to understand. Although in the dark about the song's context, Jaylah was thoroughly caught up in the irreverent composition's savage rhythm. "Your beastly boys sound like excellent warriors." Whenever she mentioned 'beastly boys,' her peculiar articulation endeared her even more to Scott.
"Their use of the King's English wasn't genteel, but at any rate, those lads had their day, so history states." Sagely, he advised, "Listen with your heart, darlin'. And rock out with us!" The ungainly starship bucked violently in synch with his impish brogue as the craft inched its way to the onslaught awaiting it. In high gear, the Chief Engineer fiercely recommended with a shout, "And, Luv, when the rockin' and rollin' starts, hang on tight!"
Into the thick of frenzy and madness, the newly-refurbished U.S.S. Franklin, Jaylah's recently unearthed home, bravely flew on into the heart of darkness.