A/N: If anyone out there feels they could give me a comprehensive explanation of the Klingon race, in which I will likely ask many seemingly inane and detailed questions, please do so. Suffice to say, it is necessary to this fic and that's as close to a spoiler as you're going to get. (Snickerdoodles to anyone who catches all the references.)
Insubordination:
Chapter II
Jim's eyes fell shut as he leaned heavily against a wall on the cargo ship, Excalibur. He had made friends with the owner over a half dozen shots of Cardassian Sunshine his fifth night out and the man had offered him a place to crash before heading out in the morning. He was somewhere around Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, and that was all he could really remember of the past few days. After his last call to Pike, he'd shut down, speeding off on his motorcycle without consideration for laws or destination. He'd driven for three days without halt, not registering the passing of time or space until he got lightheaded and nearly crashed into a tree. Barely aware, he'd stopped at the next roadside diner and scarfed two greasy cheeseburgers before heading out again, slightly clearer-headed.
He'd driven another day and a half before realizing he was being ridiculous and had to sleep eventually. Turning to his old cure-all in hopes of a dreamless sleep, Jim had pulled into the first bar he came across—an ancient-looking dive called Strangefellows. From there was another blur of time and drinks and raucous voices when Alex, Excalibur's owner, dragged him to a table crowded with his crew.
Damn, but his head ached. It was a little after three in the morning and he'd woken abruptly, soaked in sweat, his dream fuzzy and shadowed already. He was bunked in the tiny passenger's quarters, the room bare but for a cheap, military regulation bed and an old chest of drawers, both bolted firmly to the floor. He blinked his eyes open slowly, reasonably certain that he did not want to risk dreaming again. His sigh was inaudible but the bed creaked warningly when he pulled himself up and dragged himself to the bathroom, which was possibly even smaller than the bedroom.
Listlessly, he went about his morning routine, brushing his teeth, combing his hair and having a quick shave. Deciding at the last moment that a hot shower would be pretty nice and realizing that this may well be his last for a while, he stripped quickly and allowed himself to enjoy the ten minute shower as much as he was able. He had a nasty feeling that this day was going to be long.
Jim slipped silently through the ship's corridors, peeking through any open doorways in search of a replicator, or even a kitchen. He really wanted coffee.
The corridors were a bit chilly so early and he spared a moment to wish he'd put on socks before pausing at the next door. A vaguely familiar figure was seated at a simple stainless steel table, sipping at a steaming cup of what smelled deliciously like fresh coffee. Jim hesitated only a moment before moving toward the man's seat where he leaned back, eyes closed. Tapping his shoulder lightly, Jim took a step back at the startled yelp and instinctive grasping for a weapon that wasn't there. Then the man caught sight of him, blinked, and laughed sheepishly, running a hand through unruly bed hair.
Jim grinned cheerfully at the man's expense, stepping back up to the table and gesturing wordlessly at the coffee mug. The man snorted and waved at an old-fashioned coffeemaker on the counter. Jim's grin broadened at the thought of real coffee rather than replicated crap. Snatching a mug from beside the machine, he settled back at the table across from the man with a full cup of coffee and savored the first sip. That is much better, he thought blissfully.
After draining most of the first cup, he was feeling a little more alive, the rush of caffeine warming his blood. Sitting back, Jim examined his companion through half-lidded eyes over his own large mug. The man appeared to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties, and he was a bear of a man. Easily topping six foot, he was built like a bodybuilder – a name whispered in his muddled conscious and Jim spoke without thinking.
"Alex?" The man identified as Alex grinned, supremely amused, and responded, "Well, I'm glad ta see ya remember me, friend, though I'm afraid I can't say much of the same." Jim grinned this time and offered his hand, "Jim. Nice to meet you." Alex took the offered hand and shook it firmly, seeming quite impressed when Jim didn't wince but returned the shake solidly. It was his turn to look Jim up and down and Jim recognized when the man noticed the dark circles under his eyes and their semi-permanent lidded state. His lips twitched, "Painkiller?"
Jim groaned quietly as Alex's shifting allowed the rising sun to shine right into his sensitive eyes – he could usually more than hold his alcohol, but last night had seen some true binging. He nodded cautiously and Alex chuckled, moving to a cabinet just above the coffeemaker. Once Jim had swallowed the pill, careful to check the name in case he was allergic, the both of them settled and Alex gestured for Jim to speak if he wished. Jim cut right to the chase, "Do you have any idea what happened last night?"
The man grimaced and shook his head, " 'fraid not. All a great blur after I think the third shot of Sunshine."
Jim's grin was lopsided, "I've got a blank after the fifth. I vaguely remember you introducing me to your crew, but after that…"
"Yeah."
They sat in a comfortable silence until Alex broke it. "So, what's your story?" Jim shrugged, "Born and raised in Iowa, washed out of Starfleet and decided to drink away my woes." The man met his eyes sympathetically.
"You?"
Alex rolled his shoulders and absently cracked his neck before responding, "Well, ya know this is my ship, my lovely Excalibur. Picked her up after washin' out of Starfleet myself, first year in the Academy." He gazed fondly around the room and patted the wall at his back, Jim watching amusedly. "I've been her captain some ten years now. Me and my crew transport all sorts of goods across the galaxy, though we do get the occasional wanderin' passenger. Meet some interestin' folks that way," he chuckled suddenly.
"Ya shoulda seen this one lad we got a few months back – Andorian, I think. He was a character. Apparently worked as an assassin for one of the rebel groups on a neighborin' planet. Wouldn't know it ta meet him, the lad was terrified of his own shadow. Best part, though, was probably when Kylie found out he slept with a teddy bear." Jim stared at him, before laughing incredulously. Alex grinned and added, with distinct relish, "Of course, even better was when she snapped a picture of the thing to show us later. The lad was cuddlin' it like a lover, it bein' near as long as he was. He never could figure out why we were all laughin' at him the rest of the trip." Jim shook his head, disbelieving, and laughed along with Alex.
There was another pause in conversation before Alex, again, broke it, eyeing Jim thoughtfully, "So, Starfleet, eh? I don't suppose ya could fly this ol' beauty?"
Jim started at the offer but thought it over seriously. He knew he could do it, if he hadn't gone for command track he could've been a pilot, but did he really want to be back on a ship so soon after losing the Enterprise? He winced mentally at the thought of his own beloved starship; he wasn't sure. It was difficult enough at this point, acting normally with Alex was already wearing at him. But…he had to do something. He knew himself well enough to know that if he didn't find something productive to do, soon, he'd fall back into old habits and old haunts, retreat into himself to mourn. He couldn't let that happen. Not again.
Alex had waited patiently while Jim thought it over, not commenting when Jim finally met his eyes again. Those blue eyes had already been guarded, if friendly, but now he caught a glimpse of the edges of something sharp, something jagged and ferocious, for just a moment before it vanished and Jim was smiling again, "I think you've got yourself a pilot." Alex grinned and stood, moving around the table to clap the lad on the back, then refill his coffee. When he returned to his seat, Jim took a sip before remembering a question he'd had before the job offer came up.
"Kylie?"
"Kylie Minnaws, you might've met her last night, if that means anything. You'll want to watch out for her. She looks like a pretty doll but the girl is mean. I love her to death, known her since she was even tinier, but she's grown a bit and she…overcompensates."
Jim raised an eyebrow and Alex sighed, "Kylie's a certified pyromaniac with a bit of a thing for explosives. Whatever ya do, don't surprise her. The girl carries more things-that-go-boom on her person than most armies." Jim blinked and nodded. He had become somewhat desensitized to the strange and violent and while his responsibilities had forcibly taught him self-control, he was still Jim Kirk – the same adrenaline-fueled teenager who'd decided to drive a car off a cliff. To him, this girl sounded like fun. Perhaps more importantly, she sounded like a fantastic distraction from dangerous, idle thoughts.
Just then a shuffling sounded by the door and Jim turned at the same time Alex did. A wisp of a thing, blonde hair chopped to her ears and feathering across her forehead, the girl blinked open bleary blue eyes. Jim thought she rather resembled that little fairy in the old movies his mom loved, Tinkerbell. She looked just like a little Tinkerbell without wings – she was even dressed all in green; a pair of green cargo pants with a dozen, bulging pockets and a dark green tank top that was at least a size small.
Jim blinked when she gave him a sleepy glare and moved mechanically over to Alex, curling up on his lap like a kitten with a muttered, "Mornin', Unc'e Alex."
Jim stared at her and then up at Alex. He assumed this was the infamous Kylie since he couldn't imagine anyone fitting the description better, but this was not what he expected. She seemed to feel his eyes on her as she squinted one eye open to glower at him. Rubbing her face, she sat up on Alex's lap and slid into the seat next to him. Not even lifting her face from her hands, she spoke, "Pervert, you don't stop staring at me in the next five seconds I'll get to find out how loud a man screams when his bits are set on fire."
Jim shook his head and looked at Alex, who shrugged as if to say, I warned you.
An hour later found Jim being chased around the room and out into the hall by an irate Kylie, who apparently did not appreciate being called Tinkerbell, Tink, or any variation thereof. The other members of the crew just watched before returning to their conversation, or coffee, depending on how long ago they'd woken up. One of them was nearly as large as Alex and distinctly Romulan, topping out at just under six feet.
"Whatcha think of him, Ru?"
The Romulan tilted his head slightly in thought before responding, "He seems to be a decent human, if secretive." Alex nodded, he had realized as much but Ruunga was especially intuitive and prone to reticence. If he said the lad had secrets than they were big secrets and there were a lot of them.
Yet Jim really did seem "a decent human" as Ruunga had put it. If their arrogant Romulan, who didn't seem to like anyone outside the crew, approved…Turning his eyes to the others around the table, Alex watched everyone for a sign of assent or dissent. He may be captain, but their crew had become more like family than any sort of hierarchy – everybody got a say.
Simone, the ship's doctor when necessary, shrugged. She was an average height and average build, with shoulder-length cinnamon hair and cloudy green eyes – she was almost completely blind, only able to distinguish shadowy shapes and bright lights at the most. She didn't let it slow her any. Her other senses, particularly touch, were heightened in the absence of sight and she had spent years learning to 'see' the world around her by her fingertips.
Ja'uld and his brother Ja'ugn spent a few moments considering before nodding, carefully. They weren't certain but there didn't seem any harm, Alex translated. Neither of them spoke much, at least out loud. He was reasonably certain they had a telepathic connection of sorts; considering how odd they were it wouldn't be surprising. Their mother had been a Klingon, outcast for refusing to kill the children she had begotten in a series of very odd circumstances involving a one night stand with a Vulcan.
Their missing member was gone for good and was precisely the reason Jim was being discussed. Their pilot, Tristan Sierra, had left them just two weeks past. He had been seeing a woman for a number of years and had finally worked up the nerve to propose. She had agreed on the condition that he settled down with her on Earth – she wanted children, and they would have their father. So, they were a pilot short.
They'd gone through five pilots in the past two years, with Tristan lasting the longest at nine months, but none of them had quite clicked into Excalibur's little family of misfits. Jim, however, already seemed to be fitting in well, after a bit of a start at the sight of Ruunga. In fact, from the shouts echoing in the corridors, he and Kylie would get along like a house on fire.
Just as the thought crossed his mind, Jim burst into the room, grinning like a loon. He was panting lightly and there was what looked like bits of shrapnel lodged in his hands and hair, with minute smoking holes in his clothing, barely visible burns on the underlying skin. Alex winced; he could guess what was responsible for that sort of damage.
Kylie adored old war technology, said it was more creative, and she liked to specially modify her favorite toys. She was a real hand with machinery – why she made such a damn good engineer – and her absolute favorites were some ancient grenades she had hoarded and experimented with. She had made the shrapnel smaller, sharper, and could now put the things back together like a puzzle box. The process for retrieval of each shard could be quite painful for a living target.
Kylie burst in through the doors next, a malicious smile on her face. Jim only sighed and wiped off some soot absently, "Look, Tink, if you're that insecure I'll leave it alone, alright?" The tiny girl growled and lunged for him but he dodged behind Alex's chair. Alex stifled a sigh.
"Kylie, let the lad be. Jim, stop provoking her." Jim grinned, unrepentant, and Kylie's finger slipped into one of the rings poking from her pockets, twitching convulsively.
"Sit, you two," The captain's tone was mild but firm and they both sank into seats at opposite ends of the table.
"Jim." Jim turned on his chair to face Alex, leaving off smirking at a fuming Kylie.
Alex continued once he had Jim's attention, "Jim, ya haven't been properly introduced to your new crewmates." Alex gestured to each of them and announced their names, Jim nodding or smiling at all of them. Simone especially seemed pleasantly surprised when the young man tapped out some sort of rhythm on the table, to which she responded with a similar combination of taps. Alex and the others were confused, looking back and forth between the two, though Ruunga appeared more calculating than anything.
Alex shook it off when neither deigned to explain, "Well, ladies and gents, I hate to spring this on ya so sudden-like, but I've gotten word of a job for us. Jim, I hope ya can keep up but let me know if there are any problems." Jim's response was a lazily waved hand, you're joking right? Alex shrugged and stood.
"Up, now, you lot. We've got two hours."
Edited December 22, 2011.