"I'm no good with words
and neither is Keenser
back on Earth, after Vengeance
Nyota took me to see a painting
she said it was important, so we went.
I know my limits
Keenser's seen them long ago
that's why I resigned my commission
that's why I let go
when I can't do something, I can't do it
not a matter of willpower or physics
Keenser won't do, won't follow
into what he can't fix
we agreed to that early on
push each other farther along in what we know we can do,
that's easy.
I can break a few transwarp equations,
he can break what's possible in a warp core:
we won't break each other.
That moment turning in my PADD
Jim was willing.
It was in his eyes.
It didn't occur to me, as much as he was willing to break ship and crew
he was willing to break himself.
Do you know that myth about Daedalus?
Nyota took me to see the painting
and that about sums it up
Ikaros falling—fallen, head in the water, legs kicking
shepherd and plowman looking the other way
like they're distracted by the clouds.
That's what falling is.
It doesn't matter if it's feathers, wax, and the sun
or a starship with radioactive engine.
This is the thing-
the myth of Ikaros:
I was going to tell Jim
before he knocked me out
Keenser was on his way, with a portable transporter
just relay the coordinates
and he could get directly into the core
without the climb
realign the bloody thing and stabilize us before we burned up
and what's more:
he's immune to the radiation.
Jim wouldn't have needed to die.
That's what I witnessed.
Pointlessly, needlessly
slow, agonizing death and Spock's grief
because they got pulled into the sun.
When Nyota took us to see that painting
Keenser was the one who cried
thinking of the things he could have fixed,
or at least prevented
if he'd had a little more time on the ship.
That's Daedalus."