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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He rotated his wrist so that the tablet showed the doors to the ready room. Which were still firmly shut in place. Either Kirk was really out or he was planning on getting a one night girlfriend. Which, Sheppard had his doubts on that. Kirk seemed more married to his ship.
"Who is, in there. And has been in there."
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"Oh, wonderful!" he exclaimed with an air of disbelief behind his words and took another breath to share his thoughts on the subject matter when something glinting on his wrist caught his eye. He fell silent and inspected his wrist where he finally noticed the silver band. Everyone was pulled from their point and origins and dropped here, he had said... or in shorter terms like he said, ditched.
Heaving a sigh, he turned his attention back to the visual media. "I suppose everyone else has these da- wait, did you say Jim was here?" he glanced at the ready room the other man had adjusted.
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"Yeah. He's been here for a while now, few weeks before I showed up. Over three months."
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Stupid question but, never heart to ask. He took his feet off the console as instructed.
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McCoy had taken time to look around at the cylinder room he had appeared in during the exchange between the Lieutenant Colonel and his Captain. Over three months... his short reverie on the subject was shattered after a loud thump somewhere and a familiar cry from his best friend.
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Sheppard hit the ground on his rear as Kirk shoved him out of the seat. He sat there for a moment, staring up at the young captain. Why did he hang out here again? Sure, Sylar was a little odd, but at least he didn't throw him out of chairs and steal his tablet. He forced himself up, poking his head up behind Kirk's shoulder. He glanced at the tablet, the captain, the tablet, the captain.
Clearly this conversation wasn't going to include him.
"Okie-dokie. I'm gonna go make me a sandwich."
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