The end is where we start from [Earth]
It was time to leave.
Jim shoved the last couple of things into his backpack, looking around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. The small room had been his base for the past couple of weeks, ever since he had finally escaped the relentless round of debriefings and tell us again, Cadet Kirk, why did you... the admiralty had insisted couldn’t wait. He suspected he would have still been in San Francisco if not for his mother. He shook his head, a ghost of a chuckle escaping him as he thought about it again, Winona Kirk barging past Barnett’s assistant and coolly informing the admiral that any further questions could wait. She intended to spend some time with her son.
He’d been grateful for the intervention, even if it had startled him. In all the time Jim had been at the Academy, Winona had never once interfered. Their occasional comm chats had been brief, a leftover habit from years of not knowing what to say, and she’d let him find his own way. That she would choose now to change that… he understood, or tried to. I’m so proud of you.
Their visit hadn’t been long, but it had been… good. Winona had shipped out again a few days later, and Jim had been genuinely sorry to see her go. But she was needed - they all were needed now. She couldn’t be spared just because they had finally figured out how to be in the same room with each other again. And Jim knew he’d be back out there soon enough, though he wasn’t entirely sure what the admiralty had in mind for him yet.
Satisfied that he’d not forgotten anything, Jim hoisted his pack over his shoulder and walked outside. The day was clear and warm, so much warmer here than in San Francisco. He’d rented a motorcycle and driven south, just kept going for a couple days until he finally found a sleepy little town-village, really-near La Paz. The motel had been mostly empty, and the locals didn’t know or care where he’d come from. He had slept and ate and spent days running, swimming, anything to keep busy so that he would fall asleep at night and not lie awake thinking about everything. Or worse, dream about it again, all of the destruction. Eight ships. Vulcan. So many people…
Evenings had found him more often than not at the local bar. More often than not, he’d left alone.
Swinging his leg over the bike, Jim dug his comm unit out of his pocket and flipped it open, checking his messages for the first time since leaving. Ignoring all but one, he typed a quick reply.
Shoving the comm back in his pocket, Jim started the bike and eased it out onto the road.
Time to go home.
message to Leonard McCoy
Bones,
I’ll be back day after tomorrow, late. See you then?
Jim shoved the last couple of things into his backpack, looking around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. The small room had been his base for the past couple of weeks, ever since he had finally escaped the relentless round of debriefings and tell us again, Cadet Kirk, why did you... the admiralty had insisted couldn’t wait. He suspected he would have still been in San Francisco if not for his mother. He shook his head, a ghost of a chuckle escaping him as he thought about it again, Winona Kirk barging past Barnett’s assistant and coolly informing the admiral that any further questions could wait. She intended to spend some time with her son.
He’d been grateful for the intervention, even if it had startled him. In all the time Jim had been at the Academy, Winona had never once interfered. Their occasional comm chats had been brief, a leftover habit from years of not knowing what to say, and she’d let him find his own way. That she would choose now to change that… he understood, or tried to. I’m so proud of you.
Their visit hadn’t been long, but it had been… good. Winona had shipped out again a few days later, and Jim had been genuinely sorry to see her go. But she was needed - they all were needed now. She couldn’t be spared just because they had finally figured out how to be in the same room with each other again. And Jim knew he’d be back out there soon enough, though he wasn’t entirely sure what the admiralty had in mind for him yet.
Satisfied that he’d not forgotten anything, Jim hoisted his pack over his shoulder and walked outside. The day was clear and warm, so much warmer here than in San Francisco. He’d rented a motorcycle and driven south, just kept going for a couple days until he finally found a sleepy little town-village, really-near La Paz. The motel had been mostly empty, and the locals didn’t know or care where he’d come from. He had slept and ate and spent days running, swimming, anything to keep busy so that he would fall asleep at night and not lie awake thinking about everything. Or worse, dream about it again, all of the destruction. Eight ships. Vulcan. So many people…
Evenings had found him more often than not at the local bar. More often than not, he’d left alone.
Swinging his leg over the bike, Jim dug his comm unit out of his pocket and flipped it open, checking his messages for the first time since leaving. Ignoring all but one, he typed a quick reply.
Shoving the comm back in his pocket, Jim started the bike and eased it out onto the road.
Time to go home.
message to Leonard McCoy
Bones,
I’ll be back day after tomorrow, late. See you then?