The Once & Future Captain
Part 1
He was so. damn. bored. Sure, he was glad that his frankly magnificent starship wasn't under fire from outside forces, but Captain Jim Kirk was bored out of his mind. Mapping out the Kasterborous constellation wasn't exactly the most thrilling of work, since none of the planets showed any forms of intelligent life. He supposed the system was pretty, with various planets in deep, rich hues from goldenrod to sapphire.
Jim looked over at Spock and nearly snorted. Spock was deeply entranced in whatever reading the sensors were picking up from Kasterborous III. He would find this mind-numbingly boring work fascinating and thrilling. Jim suspected the man could wax logical for hours on why Kasterborous III had a different atmosphere than Kasterborous I.
Jim wanted some excitement, damn it. Something, anything, to give his girl the chance to run wild, so to speak. Surely the Enterprise was meant for greater things than mapping out a system that didn't even have anything the Federation would be interested in?
"Captain," Uhura's smooth voice rolled across his ears in pleasant waves. "You're receiving a priority one transmission from Starfleet on your secure channel."
Jim looked over at Uhura. "I'll take it in my ready room. Thanks, Lieutenant." He signaled to Spock. "The bridge is yours, Spock."
Jim went into the ready room and the bridge crew looked around at each other.
"I wonder what's going on. Starfleet almost never uses Captains' secure channels unless it's dire," Sulu said to no one in particular. "And it's priority one."
"I don't know, but it's irrelevant." Uhura answered before Spock could comment on the inappropriate question. "No one's hearing that conversation except Starfleet Command and the captain."
Jim was in his ready room for a solid three hours before the crew heard his voice on the comm. "Lieutenant Riley, report to my ready room immediately. Kirk out."
The bridge crew shared another heavy look. What could be going on that was so important as to use a captain's secure channel and how could it possibly affect Lieutenant Riley personally?
A few moments later Lieutenant Riley strolled onto the bridge, past the crew, and into the captain's ready room. He didn't look at anyone, didn't say a word as he did so. It was another two hours before the pair of them emerged. And neither gave the slightest hint as to what Starfleet had needed.
"Mr. Spock, go ahead and finish alpha shift. I'll be in my quarters." Jim left quickly, with Riley right on his heels.
To say that Jim's behavior over the next couple of weeks was odd, bordering on out of character, would have been an understatement.
He still made an effort to talk to every crew member, but the ease with which he'd once done so was gone. Since his promotion to captain and assignment to the Enterprise, he was more professional than many of his classmates at the Academy would have thought possible. But that professionalism was always tempered by an approachability and friendly, extroverted demeanor that put most, if not all of his crew at ease. As of late, he didn't spend as much time in the recreation rooms, or the mess hall, or even the gym. Jim kept to himself and to his quarters. Even when Bones and Spock, arguably the two crew members closest to Jim, tried to engage him in conversation, Jim just talked a bit about inconsequential matters and then shrugged off any deeper inquiries.
After his conference with Starfleet Command Jim was professional and performing his duties admirably, but he sometimes appeared strained, as if he'd just been assigned the care of two additional starships and crews on top of his own and at the same time bore the sole responsibility for discovering the secret to intergalactic peace.
So the senior crew weren't sure whether to breathe a sigh of relief or worry even more when Jim finally announced ship-wide that the Enterprise would be making a brief detour to Starbase 67 on Admiral Pike's orders.
After the transmission he sat in his chair, as composed as ever. "Chekov, lay in a course for Starbase 67. Sulu, warp 7."
"Course is set, Captain."
"Warp ready on your mark, Sir."
"Engage."
"Aye, Sir. We should arrive at Starbase 67 in two days, five hours, and three minutes." Sulu said.
"Captain?" Spock asked, moving from his station to stand at Jim's side.
"Something on your mind, Spock?"
"Yes, Captain. It is something I would prefer to discuss with you privately."
Jim looked sharply up at Spock. Such a request from Spock was rare, even now, a couple of years into their solid, if somewhat still impersonal friendship.
"My ready room, then," he agreed, motioning towards the doors.
"Thank you."
"Uhura, you have the bridge."
"Yes, Sir," Uhura intoned as she left her station to fill his vacated seat. Jim couldn't help but notice how comfortable she looked sitting there. He knew she was a brilliant xenolinguist, but she would have set Command Track on fire at the Academy. As it was, she'd broken every record for the communications and xenolinguistics studies departments within two years. He shook his head slightly, mentally preparing himself for the oncoming lecture her boyfriend (or whatever the term was that they used) was sure to deliver.
"Spock?" Jim ushered his first officer in front of him and into his ready room.
Once the doors were closed, Jim hopped up onto his desk and stared at Spock expectantly. "Speak your mind, Spock."
Spock took a stance (legs apart just so, arms bent up at the elbows, fingers steepled - what Jim called his "I am logical and you will listen to me" stance. It was usually used on Jim when Spock thought he was being unreasonable. Spock thought he was being unreasonable quite often, Jim had found), and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. "Captain-"
"Jim."
"Jim, I confess that I find myself troubled by your behavior over the past 18 days. You have been acting... out of character."
"Has my behavior endangered the crew, the ship, or myself?" Jim was so very good at dodging these types of questions; he'd had so much practice with it.
"Indeed it has not. However, Jim, some crew members are finding themselves unsettled by the change in your behavior. It is affecting crew morale."
"I see, Spock." Jim turned his attention to the view of the stars they were warping past. "Well, our rendezvous with Admiral Pike will last long enough for the crew to partake in some shore leave. That might help crew morale. Shore leave typically has that effect, it seems."
There was a period of quiet, wherein Jim knew his friend was trying to determine how to best proceed with him. Spock knew how to fight dirty and twist words, but sometimes he was at a loss when it came to talking to Jim. And Jim, childish though it was, rarely did anything to help Spock through the dilemmas. Based on their past interactions, Jim had a good idea of how Spock would proceed: he'd bring up a regulation and then use the crew and their welfare against Jim (fighting dirty indeed) in an attempt to win his concession. It usually worked; his crews' safety was paramount.
He waited for Spock's next move. It was, he was surprised to find, completely unexpected.
"I will not press you for the specifics of your preoccupation. However, whatever may be troubling you, I do, of course, offer my assistance."
"And I appreciate the offer, Spock. But you can't do anything to fix this; no one can." He finally turned back to face Spock. "And I know that this should go without saying, but it's better err on the side if caution in these types of situations. I don't want you approaching Lieutenant Riley about this. He won't be any more helpful than I am. And that goes for Uhura or anyone else you've been talking to."
Spock tilted his head and gave Jim the look that said he found him a particularly fascinating - and frustrating - puzzle that he was trying to solve. "Of course, Jim." Spock made to leave and then paused. "I do hope that you find some manner of peace over whatever it is that troubles you." He left.
Jim sighed heavily, left alone in his ready room, sitting on his desk like an adolescent rather than a Starfleet captain. "So do I, Spock. So do I."
He stared at the stars once more, lost in thought.
The cafeteria was crowded as usual. Bones determinedly set his tray next to Jim's and nodded a greeting to Riley, who looked amazed that Bones was sitting with them.
"You doing alright, Doc?" Riley managed, eyes narrowing suspiciously as Sulu and Chekov also joined the table, laughing uproariously over some clever trick an ensign had pulled in the botany lab.
"I'm just dandy. Eugh," Bones exclaimed, lifting the lid off of the plate on his tray to examine the day's hot dinner. "Meatloaf. I've never liked it."
Jim just shrugged and continued to eat. Jim would eat anything, Bones thought off-handedly. Sometimes he thought Jim had a bottomless pit for a stomach.
"It's not so bad," Riley said, digging into his own food.
Amazingly enough, Jim allowed Sulu to draw him into a conversation about ideas for on-going self-defense classes onboard the ship. Bones tuned the pair of them out and in doing so, subjected himself to Chekov's eager chatter about the newest idea the maniacal Scotsman in engineering had cooked up for the ships' engines. Riley, though reluctant, joined in, having a dual speciality in engineering as well as navigation.
It was probably the most normal evening Bones had had with Jim since he'd gotten the message from Starfleet Command.
The arrival to Starbase 67 was met with little fanfare. For all intents and purposes, it was as if this particular mission was something that would be brushed under the rug, for all the enthusiasm the crew detected from its senior officers. The ship's quartermaster drew up leave schedules and the first set of crewmen beamed down to the planet.
Jim didn't give anything away, not even the smallest tick of a facial expression, as he went to the transporter room to greet Admiral Pike. Spock was there with him and Scotty was stationed at the transporter.
"I trust your mood is well, Captain?" Spock asked.
"Sure," was all Jim would say.
"Admiral Pike reports that he and the captain are ready for beam up."
"Captain who?" Jim asked. "Pike didn't say that he'd have someone with him."
"I don't know, Captain. But I am reading two life signs."
"Fine then. Bring them up, Scotty."
"Aye."
The sound of materialization was heard and in the normal flash of light, two figures stood on the pad. The first was Admiral Pike, on two legs, but leaning somewhat on a nondescript black cane. The other, presumably the captain Pike had mentioned, was a tall, rather gorgeous woman with dark hair and blue eyes.
"Welcome aboard, Admiral. Captain," Jim greeted, all formality.
"Captain Kirk. Commander Spock." Pike nodded to each of them. "This is Number One, captain of the Yorktown."
"Captain. Commander." She acknowledged both Jim and Spock.
"It is pleasing to see you again," Spock said, though Jim wasn't sure if he was referring to Pike or Number One.
All Jim knew was that he'd never expected to see that face again, or hear that voice - he'd spent so many years thinking that he'd been delusional, that he'd dreamed up that face and voice in desperation... But he knew now, really knew, that he hadn't. He'd met Number One before.
He could remember so clearly… fuck, he wasn't ready for this.
Jim and Spock escorted Pike and Number One to their individual quarters. Any other time, Spock noted, Jim would have been chatting away merrily, exchanging witty dialogue with the Admiral. But now, Jim was withdrawn, hiding behind a professional and calm veneer that Spock recognized as very similar to his own.
"It's good to see that you haven't destroyed my ship, Kirk," Pike joked harmlessly.
"I treat her like a lady," was all Jim seemed able to manage.
This too, Spock noticed, was strange. Any other time he would have garnished his response with a flirtatious glance towards the nearest female being. Jim Kirk always had a clever (for most humans, in any matter) retort at the ready, even under periods of heightened emotional stress. Given his knowledge of the captain and his recent actions, Spock could only conclude that whatever it was that he and the rest of the crew of the Enterprise were about to get into, it was something that had left a deep and disturbing emotional gash on Jim. Spock finally admitted to himself what he had tried to 'shrug off': he was extremely worried about Jim. Not just as the captain, but as a friend.
The deep, intimate friendship his older counterpart had shared with the Jim Kirk of that reality, the friendship that he'd been told would come to define him (as well as Jim) as a person was not something that had come to fruition between his self and this Jim. It was true that he considered Jim a close friend now, respected him as a colleague, and acknowledged him as a capable and worthy captain. Spock would never deny this. Yet he knew that Jim was uninterested in living his life according to the dictates of a reality he wasn't in. The disinterest was echoed in Spock, who enjoyed his friendship with Jim, his growing acquaintances with the crew, and his intimate and romantic relationship with Nyota Uhura. That particular aspect of Spock's life had noticeably surprised the older Spock. He had thanked his older self for his well-meaning advice, but had shared his personal belief that to live his life according to what had happened in an alternate reality would be illogical, particularly as he was satisfied with the life he currently lived.
"I do believe that the Admiral is having a hard time letting go, Captain Kirk. He is a most sentimental man, though he may try to disguise it at times," Number One said, lips ever so slightly quirking upward.
Spock studied Number One. She had a regal bearing and quiet focus that compelled others to trust her and do as she ordered. Her hair was fixed in the same style as it had been when they had served together under Pike, only now there were the merest hints of silver. Spock had, in his way, admired her logical nature and professional composure. She had been an excellent first officer to serve with and Spock had learned a great deal about serving on a starship from observing her.
Jim, oddly, was silent. He appeared unsettled by Number One. Spock could not speculate a reasonable reason as to why, which left the possibility that it was an unreasonable reason. The idea of an unreasonable idea mixing with Jim was troubling.
Spock acted out of character and filled the silence Jim's voice should have occupied. "It has been my experience that captains are often territorial over their ships, and as such, revert to posturing in an attempt to prove that the inanimate vessel in question enjoys them best. You personally may have developed these proclivities with your promotion."
Spock's comment was met with an amused smile from Number One. "I've missed that rapier wit of yours, Commander," she said.
Admiral Pike snorted and Jim relaxed just slightly.
"I trust that you each will be comfortable. Should you need anything, feel free to comm the yeoman on-duty," Jim said as the group arrived at the adjoining quarters.
Number One looked at Spock. "Would you care for a game of chess? It has been a few years since I last beat you."
"Indeed I would, if the Captain has no further need of me at this time."
Jim smiled slightly. "Go on, you crazy kids."
Spock and Number One entered her assigned quarters. When the doors had sealed shut behind them, Pike gave Jim a sympathetic look.
"I really am sorry about this, Jim. I know this is the last thing you want to be thinking about or dealing with."
Jim's look was even and his voice did not waver. "I said yes, didn't I? I understand my duties to Starfleet, Pike. It's part of the job, doing things you'd rather not do. I'll manage."
"I know, Jim."
"I'll see you during to briefing tomorrow. I promised Bones I'd buy him one of many drinks I owe him and he has a habit of fussing if I'm late."
"Please give the good doctor my regards."
"Will do." Jim gave him a nod and strolled off. He never saw the pitying look Pike gave him before he entered his quarters.
Instead Jim, fully on autopilot, went back to his quarters and changed out of uniform into his civilian clothing, not even paying attention to what shirt he pulled out (blue) and not bothering to check if his jeans needed to be thrown into the refresher or not. He grabbed his credit chip, tucked a stunner in his pocket, and left. Roaming the corridors he barely noticed the crew around him. He just made his way to Bones's quarters and rang.
"Yeah?"
Jim went inside and saw Bones sitting in his chair, one of two he'd bribed Scotty to beam on, reading a medical journal. "I'm here," Jim announced.
Bones looked up, concerned. Any other time Jim would have just expected Bones to recognize him, know that he was there. "Let's go, then," he said, laying down his journal and standing.
"What? No questions about if I'm ready or how Pike and his captain-friend are doing?" Jim asked, amused.
"If you're weren't ready, you wouldn't be here. And since you are here, I can safely assume that Pike and whoever else beamed aboard with him are doing just dandy. Now," he clapped his hands together. "You owe me a drink. Several, actually, but one will suffice today."
"You know me so well," Jim said, giving Bones the first real smile he'd seen in weeks.
"There are so many things I could say to that," Bones smirked. "Can we go now?"
Jim led the way to the transporter room. He looked more relaxed than Bones had seen recently.
Starbase 67 was located on a Class M planet called Byzantia, and was one of the more recent Starfleet outposts to be constructed. The planet was fairly earth-like, save for the small fact that it's grass was purple and it had two moons to its one sun.
Its inhabitants were friendly and outgoing, though not nearly as friendly as the inhabitants of Risa or Betazed. The Byzantians enjoyed fun for fun's sake and encouraged tourists to always spend equal time both working and playing.
Any other time, Jim would have fairly been buzzing with energy, ready to visit one of Byzantia's galaxy-famous holo-suites or rappel one of its challenging cliffs. But instead he simply let Bones take the lead and choose the location of their excursion.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"A place a friend of mine from Starfleet Medical told me about. She said it was quiet, cozy, and carries the best selection of liquor this side of Risa," Bones said.
"No hopping intergalactic clubs for you, huh?" Jim joked.
"Diana said she could have recommended some if I'd wanted her to, but she knew me well enough to know better."
"Were you two close?" Jim asked, going for nonchalance.
"Not really," Bones said. "We had a few classes together and occasionally worked same shifts at the clinic." He frowned. "She was such a young thing, too. Sometimes it's hard to believe that it's been over two years since we parted. She was posted to the Hathaway and they're over in the Laurentian system studying the plasmic cascades on Durth."
"So you do keep in touch?" Jim pressed, a quiet sort of pain in his eyes.
Boned sighed. Now? Jim was going to pull this now? Let it never be said that Jim was the epitome of convenience. "No, I contacted her a few days ago to pick her brain for a good shore leave spot. I knew she'd know one because her mother is an ambassador for the Federation and she's done extensive space travel. She mentioned her ship's current mission and I happened to remember it. That's all. We never dated, never did anything but make friendly conversation."
"Oh." They had arrived.
"Yeah, oh," Bones said, opening the door for Jim. "You have nothing to worry about."
It was an unspoken thing, between them, and Bones was worried that Jim's concern was only popping up because he was so obviously distressed by their upcoming mission from Pike. Bones directed Jim to a small, quiet booth in the back of the mellow bar. "Enough about acquaintances with good taste in bars," he said as he studied the drink menu provided. "How are you holding up, Jim?"
"I'm holding," Jim said.
"But you're worried," Bones stated, hoping that if he couldn't get Jim to tell him what it was, he could at least get Jim to let go of some of the worry.
Jim chuckled harshly. "That's an understatement if there ever was one."
"What are you worried about?"
Jim fixed his eyes on Bones, so intently that the waiter who approached their booth quietly turned around and left without taking their order. "Promise me something, Bones?"
"Anything," Bones said. And he meant it. He realized that at this point, after knowing the man Jim was, he'd do anything for him. Some things Jim would never ask of him and he knew that too, but Bones didn't think there was anything he could ever deny him.
"Promise me that whatever you learn tomorrow at the briefing with Pike," Jim stopped.
"Yeah?"
"Promise me you won't hate me?"
"Jim," Bones said, wondering what it was that Jim thought could possibly cause Bones to hate him. "I'd never hate you, no matter what I learned."
"Just promise me, okay?" Jim's look was nearly desperate and for the first time since all this started, Bones moved beyond worried for Jim and into being scared for Jim.
"I promise," Bones said. "Now, where the fuck is that waiter?"
"I find this worrisome, Bones," Jim managed to joke. "It's not like you to tolerate a joint with such poor service."
"Don't make me break out the hypo spray," Bones warned as the waiter made his (her... its? It was hard to tell.) way back to their booth.
Their night continued comfortably, with them very pointedly not talking about the briefing that awaited them the next day. And if a giggling, drunken embrace was shared on the way back to the beam-up spot, well... it was a stressful time, wasn't it? Such things could be excused, naturally.