Argentum Cyngus: Teaser

Stardate 2264.30

Personal logs: Ambassador Diana Prince, Federation Starship: NCC-1701-A: U.S.S Enterprise.

It has been nearly two weeks since I came aboard this great ship, this… floating city. A metropolis in space, the vessel has taken me to three new systems, five planets, and a nebula. In those two weeks, I have begun to forge bonds with some of the crew, and others I have revelled in simply observing.

It is a magical place. I see in these young men and women hope for the future. They thirst for the unknown, for what lies beyond each distant star. In the darkest hours, they pull together and continually excel past what the average man could hope to achieve when I was last on man's world.

Perhaps it is that Starfleet demands the best of the best.

But, I am hopeful that I see only one small part of the greater horizon. That humanity has truly become what Kal, Bruce, Barry, Arthur, Vic and I thought they could become. They have found their way to the stars. They are the stuff of myth and yet it is in their little moments that I see what I love about them. The way the Andorian ambassador finds new friends in the two engineers who simply had to share a drink. The most recent tryst of our good Ensign Chekov and the sincere apologies he issues every time he says or does something sadly indicative of his youth. I find new joy every time I share a cup of coffee with Lieutenant Uhura. We speak new languages. I truly enjoy Vulcan. It reminds me of my own tongue. The Themysciran dialect of Hellenistic Greek shares many of the same ebbs and flows as Commander Spock's tongue.

Klingon, Romulan, Vulcan…. Each of them rolls off the tongue with its own beauty and passion, and my newfound sister finds my quick learning infinitely fascinating.

Each new planet has brought another chapter in the Federation's politics to the forefront. Thankfully, technology has only grown more accessible to the average user, and I have surprised the captain at a number of junctures as I keep pace with his crew.

And I do believe it is genuine, innocent surprise. Jim is…

He is… .

What I mean is…

The words were failing her. Again.

"Computer, end log." Diana breathed, closing her recording unit. The mess hall was relatively quiet in the small corner she occupied. With a steaming cup of raktajino, fresh from the kitchen, she had thought the strong brew would clear her mind while she people-watched. And to some extent, it had.

Almost none of the crew knew of her past on Earth.

She'd found great amusement in Chekov regaling Sulu with another tale of woe. It seemed that the young man was never without a broken heart over a beautiful soul - a very Russian affliction, in Diana's humble opinion. Apparently this time he lamented of a great beauty that he would never see again. She had a feeling it had to do with the U.S.S. Farragut. The Enterprise had met up with the ship - apparently the second of her name - and the crews spent time together.

When Doctor McCoy had come into the mess hall, they had exchanged pleasantries, but he was in the midst of another medical mystery, so she let him go. This occurred many mornings much the same. One member of the bridge crew or the other would breeze through the mess hall, and she'd learn one bit of information or another. It was all still surface information, but they were moments Diana savored. She was so eager to learn of humanity, but she had so much to legally and politically learn, she had yet to delve into their past: to learn who they were, how they came to be here. Instead, she was content to see them as they wished any other new member of the Federation would see them.

Unfortunately, that also applied to the Captain.

Diana chuckled, shaking her head at her own silly behavior. In the last two weeks, she had found it easier to call him Jim and not Steve. But, it didn't stop her from attempting to compare him to his doppleganger. And it was absurd. She had seen something in him when they skirmished with the Romulans. Something unique to James Kirk. Yet, she felt as if attempting to pin him down, define him in any way, would somehow lead to more comparisons and do a disservice. In that way, he was just like Steve. He crafted a persona as captain of the Enterprise.

She had promised him that she would learn the measure of this new mankind.

And part of that had to start with somehow measuring James T. Kirk. Measuring this persona that could not be defined, simply because she had nothing to compare it against. She could not see where Captain Kirk began and Jim ended, or if they did at all. And if they did not? If he was defined by that command chair, by the way his eyes burned with an inescapable lust for what lay beyond? Was that not as dangerous as the man who found himself buried in familiarity?

Observe due measure; moderation is best in all things. Hesoid's words never seemed more poignant than upon this great behemoth. Was it man's magnum opus… or their greatest hubris?

If Jim Kirk knew nothing of his life outside of pursuit, as so many of the gods knew nothing of the mortality of man… how did he appreciate that blessing?

Diana grimaced and set her coffee down. That thought sounded suspiciously like the tempting, yet ultimately hollow words of her father, so many years ago. If she could speak with him again, she would tell him exactly how foolhardy the gods were. She did not need to lose Steve to know how desperately she ached for him in the years since. In time, the ache lessened, yes. But that time was no different than for a human who had only the years allotted to them.

The truth was, the heart did not care if one was mortal or everlasting. The heart only loved. When it lost, there were only two paths: sink into the hole left, or learn to grow around that.

Diana had filled that space with her mission to protect mankind, and later, the Amazons.

Now, she had an opportunity to do so again. And she was eager to do so. If that was hubris, then she and Jim Kirk had common ground.

"Yellow alert. Senior officers report to the bridge." Lieutenant Uhura's voice carried over the ship comm as the wall consoles began to flash with yellow banners outside of their normal functionality.

Diana rose and set the cup of coffee in the recycler with one hand. In her other hand, she slipped the log padd into her pocket and strode towards the door. She was not technically a senior member of the staff. She was not an officer. But, she was hardly going to pass up another moment on the bridge.

She nodded to a crewman in greeting as she reached the turbolift, then slipped inside and keyed for the bridge, amused in spite of the somewhat serious call to stations.

What would she watch humanity stumble into today?