Written for the fluffbruary prompts of glass and reflection.
Warning for Beyond spoilers, if that still needs to be a thing. Thank you for reading and/or commenting, if you're so inclined!
Jim suspects his life will now forever bear the permanent designations of BY and AY – Before and After Yorktown.
The construction, refit, and improvement of the Enterprise-A over her predecessor is unusually lengthy, but also very necessary. It's not often in the 'Fleet that a captain is granted permission to have a say in design decisions, and while he is certainly not qualified to advise on the actual feasibility of installation, his opinions do matter, and are taken into account.
This fact is really the only thing that keeps him from spinning out entirely, the first three months they're grounded on Yorktown.
His first action is to demand at least a 35% increase in the number of their evacuation shuttles and escape pods, as well as the addition of Kelvin pod systems to key places like Engineering, Sickbay, and Historical Archives. It is indeed too little, too late, but he will not launch again from this picture-perfect Starbase without doing everything he can to ensure the people he takes with him return. If he has to personally fund the additions, he's more than prepared to do that. He plans to also hold a monthly drill to analyze their current evacuation procedures and then evaluate with his senior staff, to see where they can continue to improve both speed and logistics.
While the Enterprise herself has always been an exception to the Fleet-wide security rule of phaser possession being restricted to ranking officers unless in a Priority One Red Alert, Jim also requests that some of the regulations around that exception be expanded. They've been surprised too many times in their very beds, and he does not want his lower-ranking crewmen left defenseless three decks away from a Security-locked weapons storage cubicle, particularly in the cases where they are knowingly warping into a dangerous area of space. If a crewman cannot be trusted with at least departmental access to a weapon, they have no business on the ship in the first place, and he'd like to think either he, Spock, or Medical would have flagged that long before the launch.
They are an organization and a vessel of peaceful exploration, yes. But time has proven the ugly truth which Krall himself had hinted at; peaceful or not, this ship is a magnet for danger, and a significant portion of the time is actually treated as a pseudo-military vessel.
On a lesser-unhappy note: In addition to these changes, their stellar cartography lab is doubled in size, and several cutting-edge tools and pieces of equipment are installed in both Sickbay and their primary Science lab. They even are granted the brand-new holodeck technology, which is a pleasant surprise to Jim and a huge disappointment to the prospective crew of the Angeles, who were originally slated to receive the single existing prototype and now must wait an additional year or two for the second, albeit much less buggy, version.
Jim's not unhappy about this, because the Enterprise will be the ship farthest away from 'Fleet starbases and guaranteed shore leaves, and the crew needs more of an outlet than the rec rooms are able to provide.
But now, after debating for weeks with Command over whether to consider the next year the last of their initial five-year mission or the first of a second, after interviewing literally hundreds of applicants to sort out the sickening number of vacancies in the crew, after rounds and rounds of inspections and reconstruction and evaluation and even more inspections…after all of this, by the time they finally launch on a busy, celebratory evening?
By this point, all Jim really wants to do is sleep, honestly, but it's a good kind of tired.
It's been a very, very long year and a half, grounded in a location none of them had ever planned on staying for longer than a two-week shore leave, and it has not been easy, reconstructing their lives in addition to their beautiful ship. None of them are or ever will be quite the same; and yet, he is dumbfounded every day by the number of crewmen – both old, and new – who are willing to follow him again out into the darkness, for however long they have.
Even Sulu, who Jim had fully expected to leave either the Enterprise or the 'Fleet for his beautiful little family almost lost in Krall's aborted rampage, has promised him at least the remaining year of the original mission, whereupon he'll make a decision on whether to continue aboard the Enterprise for another two years for direct command experience, go into a captaincy training program on a more family-friendly vessel, or return to a less dangerous Terran ground posting.
Jim doesn't begrudge him the choice, even if it means the Enterprise will likely lose one of the most talented members of his crew once their second mission begins (assuming they get a second, and he's not going to jinx it right now by voicing it aloud).
But those are somber thoughts for another evening; this one, is for celebration. Sleep and ruminations can wait.
Having just finished his first toast of the night, being met with an echo of cheerful agreement and the clink of glasses from around the circle, he downs the contents of his glass with a smile, and immediately chokes as it burns a hole in his stomach.
"Scotty, what the hell. That is not what I meant by allowing moderate alcohol consumption. Fix this before the party starts." This new crew is very young and very excited, and that's just asking for trouble.
Or maybe Jim is just getting old.
"'Tis a one-time-only celebration, sir!"
Well, he's not wrong. The launch of the Enterprise-A is probably going to be the Main Event of the Decade for the 'Fleet. Yorktown, Jim has observed, does not see much excitement most of the time, and so they seem to eagerly grab at any excuse for a celebration, this one included. And he's not opposed to the event being marked every year. They might end up calling it Enterprise Day aboard ship, at least.
A day of memorial for their first crew, and a celebration for the second. A reminder to cherish what they have, and what they still have to lose.
"Yeah, well, none of us are all that young anymore."
"Oi, speak for yourself, Doctor."
"I am. Don't come cryin' to my medical staff when you're hungover tomorrow, is all I'm saying," McCoy retorts. He looks dubiously down at the shockingly red contents of the cup, and promptly drops the whole thing into the closest recycling chute with a shudder.
Jim chuckles at the good-natured argument that soon devolves, and meanders his way across the room to the observation window, the noisy clamor fading behind him into cheerful conversation as they prepare to go below for the First Night party, an old tradition in the Fleet for a ship's maiden voyage and one he's very happy to perpetuate with these brave new crewmen. They'll all at least put in an appearance for their new crew, but he wanted a few minutes before that with his senior officers.
One of the additions to this ship that he'd certainly never asked for but was ridiculously excited to discover, was the addition of a Captain's ready room just off the primary command Bridge. Its intention is to give the Bridge crew, particularly the captain, on-site privacy for official communiqués from Starfleet, as well as offering a retreat from the chaos of Bridge duty if needed mentally or emotionally by an officer.
Jim, however, has never really cared about privacy, as the 'Fleet's opinion of him is pretty clear, and there's no real secrets on this ship anyway. These people know him more intimately than his own fractured flesh-and-blood ever dreamed of, as frightening as the idea is on its surface. He just likes having a ready room because it's a little quieter, more intimate, than a rec room or briefing room. And even if it was constructed primarily for him, he's happy to share it with his senior staff, this inner circle that has gone through hell and back, and then back through it again, following him.
Soft carpet, warmer lights, an observation window, and a round table with seven equal chairs – he couldn't really ask for anything more.
Before him, the vast expanse of space stretches out in a boundless array beyond the observation window. Glimmering pin-points and the occasional streaking spark of light simulate the view that would be seen from their coordinates were they traveling at sub-light speed, and it's a beautiful thing.
A presence lurks easily at his elbow, and he glances to the side with a smile before returning to watch the starry scape. "I'd forgotten just how much I missed this," he says, almost to himself.
"Indeed."
Nobody had been more surprised than Jim, when Spock had taken him aside during one of their last inspection tours this week, to tell him that he had made it clear to his people on New Vulcan that his place was to be in Starfleet, and that he had no intention of continuing to entertain any unasked-for opinions regarding his lack of work on the colony. He would serve as first officer of the Enterprise-A as long as she flew under Jim's command, and only if that changed, would he reconsider.
Jim had been flabbergasted, to say the least, but he's certainly not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, not in something this important. He vaguely suspects that the old Vulcan, rest his soul, is somewhere out there in this or a parallel universe, laughing at them both finally getting their shit together and actually talking to each other, but better late than never.
They'd both spent a couple of weeks on New Vulcan at one point during their extended grounding. Spock, to settle some things with the elderly ambassador's estate at the request of the remaining Vulcan elders, and Jim, partly as an official 'Fleet representative and mostly for (probably unneeded) moral support and company, as Uhura was on a short-term internship aboard the Berlin studying obscure dialects at the time and Bones had traveled back to Earth to see his daughter.
But even then, Jim could tell his First Officer was still quite torn about which of his duties would win out in the end; and while he had already promised to at least finish the original five-year mission, the rest of it had still been in doubt.
Not so, anymore. Spock looks at peace here, his face ethereally lit by the sparkling star simulation and void of the tension which has been present for the last nine days, as they ramped up preparation to leave charted space well in their aft viewer. They've both put a hell of a lot of work into both their personal and professional lives, to make sure this voyage is successful, far more than was actually expected of them by the 'Fleet. The night off this evening is more than well-deserved. For all of them.
The real work begins tomorrow, when they pass the beacon warning them there is only one starbase remaining on their way out of the system – after that, they are completely on their own, out here in the void. No 'Fleet presence, no charted course – just their own expertise and one fiercely loyal, exceedingly competent crew standing between civilization and an unexplored frontier.
It's more than enough, but it's still terrifying.
Jim looks down at the deceptively inviting punch sparkling in his glass, and shrugs, chugging the remainder in one go. Spock's expression clearly says why am I following this imbecile, but he politely refrains from commenting such (or touching his own drink).
"We can do this, right?" Jim asks at last, not entirely joking.
"We will do this, Jim. Together." The response is without hesitation, without reservation, without the slight awkwardness that had characterized their last interactions aboard this ship, that one final day before it all crashed and burned around them.
It's immensely calming.
He exhales, watching as the transparent aluminium fogs briefly and fades back to the star-filled viewer. "Right, then." He lifts his empty glass. "To the best crew in the 'Fleet, Commander."
"To the best crew. And her captain."