Leonard H. McCoy had very specific reason to loathe transporters. One wrong misplaced circuit or trigger-happy technician could have devastating consequences on the person being beamed down to wherever the hell Starfleet had ordered them to go. He really did not approve of atoms being forcibly ripped apart before being intertwined together again
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Sheppard leaned back in the chair that was at the helm of the Enterprise. His feet propped up, crossed at the ankles. His hands were folded in his lap an he grinned. Another person for Kirk, it seemed. Did they just come out of the wood work or something? Ah well. The man certainly looked to be part of Kirk's crew. Same shirt, different color. Older too... probably closer to him or Sylar. Good to know that Kirk apparently had someone older than him.
"Anything I might interest you in today? We have a great offer on some really fine turkey sandwiches."
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McCoy moved across the room and picked it up and noticed the image it was projecting. A man... looked to be in his thirties, but nothing to attach him to Starfleet or the Federation. He raised an eyebrow, before he noticed something in the background that caused any questions to die before they had the chance to part from his lips.
He was sitting on the bridge of the Enterprise; he would recognize it anywhere after everything they went through. And he had his Goddamn feet propped up like some arrogant kid. It frustrated McCoy, and he pretty much growled at the man:
"Who the hell are you?"
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His attention turned back to the tablet. Oh, so the officer had found it. There was a lopsided easy-going grin. And a glance sent over to the ready room that Kirk usually holed himself up into. Though he shifted again in order to show the sleeve of his uniform. Proudly showing the Altantis Expedition emblem.
"Lt. Colonel John Sheppard. Currently serving in Atlantis, the Pegasus Galaxy. Or at least I was before I was ditched here."
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"All right then, Lt. Colonel John Sheppard." McCoy replied evenly, "What do you mean ditched here? What are you doing on the Goddamn bridge?"
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So I'm gonna take a wild guess here and say you're not a fan of flying.
[Judging by what Dean know about shuttle crafts, of course.]
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Damn right, I suffer from aviophobia and for good reason too. It just takes just one crack in the hull of a shuttlecraft and that's it, you're worse than dead. Your blood might start boiling as the damn solar flares begin to cook you in your seat and if, you're damn lucky, your eardrums might become perforated if they aren’t spouting blood by the time you reach orbit.
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You're just one big ball of sunshine, aren't you?
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"You're in Taxon, Mr. McCoy. As for the Enterprise, I can't help you there."
...Helpful. Really.
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[ And the sound of moving things can be heard over the tablet as well. ]
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This is the City of Taxon. It is divided into four sections with the center of the city having what is known as the Sanctuary. This is where you are now. Once you walk outside you are free to go wherever of your pleasing, it seems.
[ Clang, clang. ]
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[Okay, he notices that sound. His eyebrows furrow in confusion.]
What are you doing- ... ma'am?
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"You're not trapped inside," she said to the doors, hoping the being inside could hear her, the Coruscanti accent think on her voice. "You can come out at any time."
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She moved to stand right before the doors, to be right in his line of sight, and offered, "Welcome to Taxon."
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At the salutation from the woman, he grumbles in reply: "Thanks for the welcome."
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