A/N
So recently, William Shatner took a joyride into space via Blue Origin. There'd be a time when I'd be geeking out about this, the possibility of spaceflight becoming more accessible to humanity, but given the climate crisis bearing down on us...well, can we afford it right now?
Anyway, drabbled this up I guess.
Space Trek
Most curious, Spock mused to himself.
As he watched the space capsule touch down on one of the landing pads of the Mayweather Centre, the vulcan shielded his eyes from the glare of the sun above. It was, according to the people he talked to, a typical Texas day – big plains under a big sky, with a big sun shining through the blue. Visible because of all of the things in this state that were big, didn't' include big clouds today. Which had allowed him to see the capsule when it was miles above the ground, well before coming in range of the landing pad.
It was an anachronism, he reflected, as the pod came to a stop, and technicians ran forward to secure it. The type of technology being used was antiquated even by the standards of Zefram Cochrane. He, at least, had piloted a starship that had warp capability, but this pod couldn't even manage that, let alone the overgrown firecracker it had been attached to.
That, at least, had touched down on a separate pad, able to be reused as part of this mad business. In an age where humanity could beam from surface to orbit in seconds, when they had starships that could cross their home system in the blink of an eye, the use of this old, 21st century technology was…well, most curious, to borrow a phrase.
Nevertheless, he stood at the ready, feeling the weight of a uniform on him despite being in civilian clothing. He watched as the pod's passengers got out – all of them human, all of them old, all of them wearing blue jumpsuits. And all of them, in Spock's humble opinion, trying to relive their youth.
"Ah, you did wait for me."
Which included James Tiberius Kirk. Captain of the USS Enterprise, former admiral in Starfleet, and a man whose drive to go where no-one had gone before apparently extended to flying death traps.
"I'd say live long and prosper, Captain," Spock said, glancing at the pod Kirk had stepped out of. "But it seems that you intend on risking the possibility of living as short a time as possible."
"Ah, Spock, you have no appreciation for the finer things in life." The captain smirked. "You've got to grab life by the antlers and ride it, y'know?"
"A curious statement, Captain, considering that life does not have antlers. Nor can it be ridden."
Kirk sighed.
"Also, your statement does bear resemblance to bull-fighting, or the Taros Trials as practiced by the indigenous species of Zenoba Seven. The former being outlawed by United Earth in-"
"Yes, thank you Spock, most informative."
"You're welcome, Captain."
"And not at all a repeat of basic facts in history class." Kirk cleared his throat, and put his arm around Spock. "But here's to history, eh buddy?"
Spock stared at the pod before him. "To history, Captain, however this is relevant."
"Relevant? Don't you know what this is, Spock?"
"Of course, Captain. I do believe you told me on the way here."
"This is a replica of the Blue Eagle rocket of the early twenty-first century," Kirk said, entering a phase that Doctor McCoy would describe, potentially, as 'geeking out.' "Before the Third World War, this was the cutting edge of space travel."
Spock knew it to be true. Prior to the outbreak of World War III, this kind of technology was indeed on the cutting edge of human spaceflight – reusable rockets available for civilian use, pioneered by the corporate sector before rockets of a different kind had been launched into the sky, delivering their nuclear payloads.
But staring at the pod, and recalling the rocket that had taken it into Earth's orbit, there was a gap between perception and reality. A hop into the past for Kirk and his species, perhaps, but to him? An anachronism.
"Incredible," Kirk said. "The people of that day, going into space with nothing but a wing and a prayer."
"I do believe, Captain, that wings wouldn't be much good in space, given that-"
"Lay off it Spock, it's my holiday."
"Indeed, Captain. It is. Though you appear to have dragged me into this holiday, as we observe the primitive technology of a formerly primitive world, inhabited by a species who likes to indulge in primitive behaviour."
One of the techs working on the pod before them gave Spock a look. Nevertheless, he kept working on it.
"Ah, Spock, you have no romance in your soul," said Kirk, as he walked away from the pad, and towards the base's gift shop. "I mean, can you say that you've gone into space on a giant rocket? Can you say that you've experienced zero-gravity in a pod smaller than a hover-truck, gazing at the blue sphere of Earth, six-hundred miles above?"
Spock blinked. That had almost been poetic. Nonsensical, and illogical, but poetic. Almost.
"Maybe you should give it a turn," Kirk said. "We're in the shadow of greatness after all."
"If you're referring to this base's namesake, sir, I should remind you that it was only renamed in honour of Travis Mayweather in 2185. And that these rockets are scarce different from the ones that brought your species to the brink of extinction."
Kirk scoffed.
"And if I may say so, Captain, dying and being given a second chance at life that few receive, is a gift that I am loathe to squander on flights of fancy."
A shadow passed over Kirk's eyes, and not just because of them entering the gift shop, cutting them off from the Texas sun. He looked like he wanted to say something, but be it comforting, or witty, or something that McCoy would have called a "Kirkism," the vulcan couldn't say. Instead, the captain made a beeline for a replica of the Enterprise NX-01. Gawking at it like a tellarite eyeing a mud bath.
Curious, Spock reflected.
He watched the captain from afar, noting that while he might have been acting like a child right now, he wasn't getting any younger. His hair a little greyer, his body a little plumper, his movements a little slower. Of course, captaining a starship was a matter of brain rather than brawn, but still, the strain was there. One that a space battle with a super-human, a rescue on Genesis, and a retrieval of whales from the 20th century, couldn't have helped. He, on the other hand…
Well, he looked at his own hand, noting the lack of any wrinkles on his palm. He was living in a revived body. A body that was just as good as his old one, if not better. A body that, being vulcan, was better than any human body, period, at least when it came to strength and longevity. Barring accident or mishap, he'd still be alive long after James T. Kirk had departed this universe, not to mention the rest of the Enterprise's crew. A fact that would remain a fact, barring a significant jump in medical technology, but a fact that, at times, gave him more discomfort than he cared to admit.
His father would outlive his mother. He would outlive his father. He'd already lost his sister, and his brother was very unlikely to come back into his life anytime soon. So in that knowledge, coupled with the knowledge that he would be the last surviving member of the USS Enterprise NCC-1701…
He headed towards the gift shop's book section. Looking at biographies that covered everyone from Yuri Gagarin, to Neil Armstrong, to Zefram Cochrane and Jonathan Archer. Men long dead, but who had become immortal. Or rather, the next best thing.
"Oh wow…you're Captain Kirk!"
Spock looked at the gift shop's counter and, confident that no-one was looking at him, smiled. Kirk had taken his replica, but stars of a different kind were being seen.
"Hey, can I have a picture?"
The counter-girl (an andorian with very twitchy feelers) was talking to Kirk, and had just activated a camera drone. Kirk, briefly giving Spock a look that said "well, what can you do?", allowed himself to have the picture taken. A little bit of immortality, Spock assumed, as there was a small flash, and the picture likely uploaded into the ether. One day, Kirk would be dead, as would the andorian, as would everyone in the Mayweather Centre, but the picture would endure. Dug out by bored students at Starfleet Academy while they studied the life and tactics of the captains that had come before them.
"Kids, huh?" Kirk asked, as he walked over to Spock.
The vulcan frowned, looking at the box Kirk was carrying. "I see you got your toy."
"Toy? Toy? Spock, this is a replica of the Enterprise. The first Enterprise."
"Incorrect Captain, as there have been many ships called Enterprise." Spock nodded to a replica of a 20th century space shuttle, sitting idle on the shelf. "Also, that does not counter my assertion that it is, indeed, a toy."
"Oh Spock, where's your inner child?"
"On vulcan, deep in study of everything from philosophy to mathematics."
Kirk smiled.
"What?"
"Why, Mister Spock, I believe that was a joke."
"Incorrect, Captain. I was simply pointing out that my childhood was spent on more worthwhile pursuits than playing with toys."
A lie. Partially. Even if it hadn't been for Michael, his mother had been human, and that meant trying to give him a human upbringing, despite his father's efforts. Indulging him in everything from human toys, to human books, to simple walks under the rust-coloured trees of his homeworld. Telling him to keep his head up high, no matter how many glances they received from the vulcans around them.
The times had been…good, he supposed. Unproductive. But good.
"Anyway," said Kirk, heading for the exit. "Toy or no toy, this is going on the next ship I command."
"The Enterprise-A? I heard that there were troubles with its retrofit."
"Oh, Scotty's up there, he'll have it up and running. In the meantime…well, there's a mountain in Yosemite that needs climbing."
Spock stood still as a statue, as Kirk headed towards the hover-car. "Yosemite, Captain?"
"Yosemite, Kirk. Located in California."
"And you are going to climb a rock? Risk your life again?" He glanced back at the Mayweather Centre. "Another joyride where you foolishly put your life on the line?"
Kirk raised an eyebrow – almost as well as Spock could. "The hell's gotten into you?"
What indeed? "I am just saying, Captain, that it is most illogical to be risking your life on your holiday, when you risk your life every time you get into the captain's chair."
"Well-"
"Such as when you risked your life to save mine." Spock lowered his gaze, steadying his emotions as best he could. "When you…lost your son in the process."
He didn't want to say it. But it had to be said. If not now, then eventually. The notion that Kirk was risking his life, when recently, both of them had seen so much death. Since Khan, since Kruge, since arguably, they first set off into the stars together all those years ago. Kirk, having escaped death a hundred times, was now risking his life on space joyrides, and climbing rocks.
Big rocks.
"Spock."
He kept his face down. His ears burning. And not just because of the damned sun.
"Spock," Kirk repeated.
The science officer looked up.
"The klingons killed David," Kirk whispered. "Not you."
Spock remained silent. What Kirk had said was the truth. But unlike most of the truths in this universe, it wasn't one that gave Spock any comfort. Especially in the knowledge that there was a knife in his friend's stomach, and it was still twisting.
Logic dictated that there was nothing to say. Logic had been his safeguard, ever since the first taunts had reached his ears as a child. But while some vulcans could pride on themselves on the depth of their emotions, and their mastery of them, that was not to say that other species didn't feel them. Human, or otherwise. Love, loss, grief, joy…it was the thing that bound them together. All species of the Federation, and perhaps, one day, those beyond.
Maybe that was why Kirk insisted on these joyrides, Spock reflected. He needed to master his emotions in his own way.
"Anyway," said Kirk, putting the Enterprise replica in the boot. "Yosemite?"
"I suppose, Captain. Though I don't believe I'll be climbing big rocks myself."
"Oh, that's fine, McCoy's meeting us there. I'm sure he'll keep you company."
"McCoy?" Spock tried to hide his admittedly pleasant surprise. "Please Sir, I'd rather spend shore leave with a gorn."
Kirk snorted, and got into the car. After a moment's hesitation, Spock joined him.
A joyride, he supposed. One without an overgrown firecracker. And one with a sign to guide them, as they drove onto the highway.
DRIVE FRIENDLY – THE TEXAS WAY!