Fanfic: Sands of Time [ 3 / ? ] Reaper!McCoy / Reese!Chekov
Title: The Sands of Time
Rating: M
Fandom(s): Star Trek XI, DOOM, Terminator Salvation
Disclaimer: Okay, if I owned ANY of these (other than on DVD) would I be writing this? I think not.
Warnings: MASSIVE CROSSOVERNESS, AU, OOCness, m/m relations, language, violence
Summary: Kyle Reese, as a Resistance fighter, was practically made sterile due to nuclear radiation so had to become the test subject for a drug that would regenerate radiation damaged tissue… and as such became essentially immortalized. In the year 2046, he met a former Marine codenamed Reaper, recently fired from the RRTS after the massacre of the UAC base on Mars and they formed an unbreakable bond. Centuries pass and face a new future, a new set of lives, in Space as Starfleet officers. Will their bond survive the test of space travel and exploration with Starfleet?
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PART III - THE NARADA INCIDENT
SCENE ONE - ENTERPRISE TO VULCAN
First day on the job and already someone managed to fuck up. Specifically a certain someone in the pilot’s seat of this thing who clearly had very little to no experience with a ship quite this big. Not that Kyle had had much experience either. Most of his navigation skills on this giant ass tin can came from the simulations at the academy and some time with programs over the centuries that he used to help him better when these types of engines first came out… just in case he’d need the information for some reason. While it wasn’t healthy to remain this paranoid so many years later, he couldn’t help it. To rely on machines so heavily, to give them too much intelligence, was a re-emergence of Skynet just waiting to happen and he wasn’t going to go through that shit again. Not if he could help it.
But the kid managed to find his mistake after the Vulcan pointed out something and the captain -what was his name again? Spike?- got them on their way to the planet of the pointed eared hobgoblins. Or so John liked to call them. It was a funny term even if it was slightly derogatory. It hardly mattered anyway. His lover would hold his tongue when he needed to and that was all that was needed onboard a ship this big shooting through the vacuum of space at faster than the speed of light.
“Russian whiz kid,” the captain called behind him, “what was your name again? Chenkoff, Chirpoff…” Kyle had to resist from twitching at the horrible guesses. Instead he just finished his last calculation before turning around, every ounce the young bridge officer addressing his superior officer.
“It’s Chekov sir, Pavel Andreievich,” he said. He hoped he didn’t look as tired as he sounded. He was the navigator after all. A sleep navigator meant hitting a planet or something and Kyle was pretty sure this pilot was too much of a dip shit to notice if they were that far off course.
“Fine, Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, I need you to get out a ship wide mission broadcast…”
“Yes sir, be happy to.” Kyle rolled his eyes subtly as he turned around and accessed the proper panel with a touch of his fingers. Really, wasn’t this the communication officer’s job? Fine. Whatever. It wasn’t all that important and he had nothing better to do right now.
The computer asked him for his authorization code. “Ensign autorizashun code; nine five wictor wictor two.” The computer beeped and declared the code not recognizable. Fuck this accent. Really. “Ensign autorizashun code; nine, five, v-victor, v-victor two.” Authorization code was recognized. Thank god. He really didn’t want to have to figure a way to reprogram this thing.
“May I hawe your attenshun please,” he said, purposely over enunciating his words to make sure even the half deaf engineers heard him, “at twenty-two hundred hours, telemetry detected an anomaly in ze neutral zone, vhat appeared to be, a lightening storm een space. Soon after, Starfleet receiwed a distress signal from ze Wulcan high command zat zeir planet vas experiencing seismic actiwity. Our mission, ees to assess ze condition of Wulcan and assist een ewacuashuns eef necessary. Ve should be arriving at Wulcan vitin zree meenutes. Zank you for your time.”
He hit the button to turn off the com, turning his attention back to his controls. He looked over all the numbers he was given, searching for the slightest error in calculations, and adjusting when needed. Fortunately the charts he was using to navigate by were accurate where they were headed. He knew that would not always be the case when they were on that five year mission through wherever the fuck they were headed in deep space. Technically the Enterprise was an exploration vessel that could fight if needed. He really hoped the weapons and shields he and Sulu were in charge of weren’t needed for this mission right away.
Of course, within the three minutes since he had given his announcement, he heard the sound of running as the turbo lift doors opened the sound of John -no Leonard in this persona- shouting for Jim to slow down. Again Kyle turned around in his seat but this time his attention was more focused on the pissed off, slightly breathless doctor that was trying to tell the captain the unfortunate Jim Kirk was under the influence of a severe allergic reaction to something. It wasn’t like he was paying all that much attention to what the man said. He was more focused on how good the man looked in his medical blues, the shirt fitting snuggly to his chest. He smiled softly to himself. He couldn’t wait until after later when he got the opportunity to that shirt off of.
But then Kirk started talking about the likelihood of them warping into an attack, using logic that even the Vulcan couldn’t argue with. The captain looked concerned. Kyle tensed in his seat. Well fuck a duck. He didn’t wait to hear what the rest of them had to say. He turned his attention to John and locked eyes with him for a minute, wishing they had some odd form of telepathic communication. He wanted to tell the man to be safe, that he loved him, but he couldn’t do it in this setting, surrounded by these people. Not yet. Not when his persona was still under age and “Leonard McCoy” could stand to lose everything for doing so much as thinking of touching him inappropriately.
The captain reached his conclusion just as Kyle turned in his seat and got his map for Vulcan space down to the most accurate details and had his phasers, even photons armed and ready. “Red alert,” Pike said, “Shields up.” The klaxon sounded and everyone except Kirk hunkered down in their places, John no doubt running back to Sickbay to prepare for the wounded. This wasn’t going to be pleasant.
“Arrival at Vulcan in five seconds,” the pilot, Hikaru Sulu, announced, “four, three, two …”
When they pulled out of warp and arrived in Vulcan space Kyle almost let loose a string of old English expletives that would have certainly given himself away. His hands and eyes flew over his console, his ears listening for the voice of the captain and the pilot only amongst the clamor that followed. Somehow Hikaru managed to get the ship to dodge most of the debris of all the other ships that had been utterly decimated in this area. He would have congratulated the man had he been able to turn his attention away from his screen for a second or two.
Once they were clear, he saw, out of the corner of his eye, a large looming object on the view screen and so looked up, his smart mind only needing a second or two to understand what the hell it was. So that was the Romulan vessel. Fuckin’ hell. No wonder these other ships didn’t stand a chance. He hoped that…
“Captain,” Spock said sharply, “enemy ship is locking torpedoes.”
Already Kyle’s fingers were flying as Pike ordered all auxiliary power from the stern nacelles into the forward shields. He hoped they would be enough to spare the ship too much- the entire ship rocked as the torpedoes he could hardly keep track of on his screen hit the port side, taking out a few decks. From what he remembered of the layout, one of those decks had a medical unit on it…
He barely heard Sulu say that their shields were nearly decimated, that they couldn’t take another hit like that. His heart was caught in his throat his mind blank for just a second or two. John… which medical unit was John stationed in? If these goddamned Romulans managed to kill him, he’d take the fuckers out with his bare hands if necessary, damn the consequences. He could feel anger rising in his chest, anger he was allowed to vent and focus when the captain ordered all power to the forward shields and preparation to fire at them. Sulu turned the ship about, trying to get them in range…
“Captain we’re being hailed…”
A face that Reese had known he’d never forget appeared on the screen, the face of a Romulan unlike those he had seen in his textbooks. The skin had a greenish tinge, yes, but the intricacy of the tattoos on it’s bare head and the loss of one of the points on it’s Vulcan-ish ears showed that this was a much more barbaric tribe than the species they usually dealt with. His Standard was clear, though that may have been the work of the universal translator, though the casual tone with which he spoke to the captain, then about Spock, really didn’t sit well with the former soldier. He turned in his chair, trying to play the ignorant child but his fist clenched in his lap. What the hell was all this about?
Demands were made that the captain man a shuttle to the enemy ship and even from where he sat Reese knew it was a bad idea. He didn’t need to voice his thoughts since Kirk and Spock (for once) agreed on this and did their best to convince the captain to stay onboard, but it did give him the opportunity to let his thoughts focus on John for just a minute or two while the man made his final decision. His heart had calmed itself somewhat, despite not having heard from his superhuman lover, but that was only because he knew, in this chaos, that chances were the man hadn’t had time. He was too busy, wherever he was on the ship, saving as many lives as he could. John had promised him that so long as he kept the ship in as close to one piece as he could, then the former marine would do all in his power to keep the crew alive and yet come back to him.
Pike called for advanced hand-to-hand combat trained personnel and Sulu raised his hand, volunteering. Kyle nearly shorted at this thought. The man was a pilot and a rather thin man at that. Hand to hand combat with a Romulan, which were nearly three times as strong as a human, wouldn’t go over well with this one. He wouldn’t be all that surprised if they needed a new pilot to take over before whatever the training was needed for was over. It was bad enough they were probably going to lose the captain. Now it looked like one of the lower officers was going to go too.
He turned back in his chair as Pike told Sulu and Kirk to follow him out of the room, Spock joining them out of his duty as the pet Vulcan to the captain. The captain gave him command of the con. Fuck. He was a seventeen year old kid! What the fuck was Starfleet thinking?! He sighed and set the controls for the new navigator and pilot to step in while he got out of his chair and sat in the captain’s. He figured it was just a temp position since Spock should be back soon but it have him a decent perspective even for those few minutes. From there he saw the bridge as if he really was the permanent commander of all these people.
He wondered to himself, as he sat in that chair, waiting for Spock to return, if this really was the life he wanted. He was a navigator now but eventually he would earn the right to command his own vessel. He was command track still, technically. Did he want that much responsibility to rest on his shoulders? Maybe it would have been a better idea to have signed up to be a security officer. From the statistics he had seen on the job, chances were he’d be “killed” pretty quickly and if he had convinced John to do the same they would be able to jump off this ship a lot easier than where they were now. Hell, Jim and John had practically become best friends. To jump ship would break the pretty boy captain’s heart.
But it wasn’t like they’d be able to stay on for more than one five year mission. They’d look fine for the first one. Physical features didn’t change much between seventeen and twenty two, just as they didn’t between thirty one and thirty six. However, twenty seven and forty one did have a bit of a jump in them. Unless John made Jim one of them -which, from what Kyle understood, was indeed possible- the bugger would have to say goodbye at the end of the five year mission.
But what he was thinking about was all assuming they’d get out of this business alive. Chances looked bad right now but he was sure it could only get worse. This Nero guy had a bone to pick with Spock first and foremost and guess who the captain was now? Whoop de freakin’ do. He’d have to complain about this bit to John later when he finally managed to catch a break for a while. If he managed to catch said break at all while they were out here in space during this little would-have-been recon mission.
The sound of the turbo lift doors opening made Reese pull out of his thoughts and get back into his navigator’s chair, relieving the nervous girl they had put there in his stead. Fortunately she hadn’t touched anything but still. Everything was up to Spock now and he could only hope the perfectly logical creature didn’t push his luck more than absolutely necessary. Contrary to popular belief, even with a minor death wish in mind, Kyle wanted to be able to get back to Earth in one piece instead of having to put himself back together several times. Be wasn’t like John. His wounds could heal faster than usual but he wasn’t over the top super strong, smart or fast. He was just a normal man with a normal brain and a couple hundred years worth of knowledge crammed into his skull. Fuck his life with a ten foot pole. Why did everything seem to go to hell when he was around?
PART TWO - THE RESCUE
Almost as soon as Spock retook his seat he hit a communicator to the com of one of the lower Sickbays. “Doctor Puri, report.” For having his planet being in danger right in front, his commanding officer in trouble and three crew mates going to try something difficult and dangerous he was calmer than most would be. Kyle had to say there were some advantages to being an emotionally repressed creature, at least when it came to being in command.
But instead of the random old guy, the navigator heard the voice of the man he had been longing to hear since those decks had been hit. “It’s McCoy,” he voice answered, sounding tired already, “Doctor Puri was on deck six. He’s dead.” Kyle couldn’t bring himself to feel an ounce of sadness for the dead man. His own lover was alive. That’s all that mattered.
“Then you have just inherited his responsibility as Chief Medical Officer.”
There was the sound of yelling in the background and sparks from damaged electrical equipment. Reese couldn’t help the small smile that touched his face at the sound of it. His reaper was amongst the mass of the dead and dying. The man never could just sit back and let death and agony happen without trying his hand to save them. “Yeah, tell me something I don’t know.” The com was cut off as the surgeon presumably left it to go perform some more hopefully life saving operations.
Without realizing just how tightly he had been wound up, the former Resistance fighter relaxed in his seat just as he set up the scenes to watch the events in the atmosphere of Vulcan atmosphere on the main vid screen without obscuring their view. “Avay team ees entering ze atmosphere, sir,” he said, keeping an eye on the numbers and the rate of decent. Just because he wasn’t all that fond of Kirk, that didn’t mean he was going to let the bastard die. “Tventy tousand meeters.”
Spock didn’t seem impressed but since not everybody could keep track of the numbers on the screen he said it aloud for everyone else. “Approaching ze platform at fifty-eight hundred meeters.” There was the voice of Kirk that came through, updating them as to their rate of decent according to their own instruments within their suits. Well fuck that. Kyle had a job to do. “Forty six hundred meeters from ze platform.” The other two joined in the little conversation. It seemed that they were all falling pretty fast.
Before long, the blue and the yellow signals pulled their shoot and began slowing down in the atmosphere, but the red one, Olsen, kept dropping like a rock. Reese’s instincts told the fucker to pull his damn shoot but the fool decided it would be a better idea to be more adventurous. He pulled it at the last minute and ended up crashing into the platform, tripping over it, until he was pulled under it by the air being absorbed into the drill, sucking him into it. “O-Olsen ees gone sir.” He tried to act surprised. A kid his age in this generation shouldn’t be used to death.
The blue signal landed. “Kirk has landed sir.” His accent made Kirk sound like “cork” but close enough. It was his small revenge, even if the fool wasn’t there to hear it. He watched the figures on the screen fight against the Romulans, wishing he could coach them a bit. He wasn’t a hand to hand specialist but he had learned a few moves here and there.
Uhura announced that the signal was gone. Reese said that the transporting abilities were back online. Spock ordered a scan on the planet. “Aye commander,” he said then mentally kicked himself, “ack, keptin. Sorry, keptin.” He hoped this wasn’t a mistake he’d have to keep making as he went back and ran his calculations. He wondered if John’s work was this “exciting”.
The sensors beeped at him, the bridge was chattering again, voices all trying to be heard over one another. Kyle knew his voice was more important than the other’s right now. The Vulcan would hear him. “Keptin, grawitashunal sensors are off ze scale,” he answered, trying to keep his tone as “Russian” as possible. He was very tempted to just let the stupid thing slip. “Eef my calculations are correct, zey are creating a singularity,” he turned to face the man, knowing this would be near impossible for a human to be asked to accept and wondering if the Vulcan visage would slip a little, “zat vill consume the planet.”
Spock from where he sat looked as shocked as one with his facial features could look. “They are creating a black hole at the center of Vulcan?” He looked like he wanted his ensign’s words to be a lie but sadly Kyle couldn’t change the facts. He confirmed it. “How long does the planet have?”
He did a few calculations in his head, long ones, using the numbers he had just turned away from. “Meenutes sir. Meenutes.”
The Vulcan hopped out of his chair and started barking orders and the soldier was more than a little pissed off when the communications officer chased after him to ask him a stupid question or two. She had her orders. She could worry about him later. The Vulcan people needed as much time to get off their planet as possible and here she was, wasting time. “Chekov, you have the con.”
“Aye aye sir.” Fuck his life. “Aye yoi yoi.” Second time in less than twenty four hours. He was alive but that would only last as long as his commanders stopped pulling shit like this every half hour. He didn’t bother getting out of his chair this time.
The tranporter technician worked to try and get Kirk and Sulu onboard but the enemy decided then was the perfect time to pick their drill up again. Sulu fell and Kirk jumped after him. The technician couldn’t catch on, they were falling too fast. Shit shit shit! What the hell was he going to do?
“I can do zat!” he cried as he figured out just what numbers to used, “I can do zat!” He stood from his seat and turned to the pilot, “Take ze con!” Now he just had to get to the transporter room in less than five minutes. Who the hell came up with this layout?!
His feet ate up ground the minute he got off the lift on the right floor, a lift that took far too much time in his opinion. “Move move move,” he snapped as he ran, his boots slipping a bit on the slick floors, “I can do zat, I can do zat! Move move move!” He didn’t bother being polite with the useless technician. “Giwe me manual control I can lock on!”
He took his seat quickly and put in his numbers, working the little joy stick with his thin fingers, pretending it was some old fashioned game that came out in the 1980s. He could do this. This was easy. Kirk was getting impatient but, to be fair, he was falling to his death. “Hold on, hold on!” Kyle answered with a few more notes of stress in his tone than he would have liked. “Calculating grawitashunal pull and…” he hit the button, the figures on screen disappeared and a light from the transporter lit up the small room, “… gotcha!” The pair of human bodies landed with a heavy thud on the glass bulb on the pad but Kyle could hardly hope to keep himself contained. He gave himself a “hell yeah!” in Russian, a kind of mental pat on the shoulder, just as Spock came in and ordered the other two off the pad.
From there, shit started to go down hard. The planet started to fall apart and while Spock did manage to gather all the people he could put of that rock area, he didn’t manage to keep them close enough. The group was in the process of being beamed back when one of them, the woman, fell out of the grip of the transporter, the gravity of the planet too strong to retrieve her and still keep the signals on the remaining Vulcans. He felt bad when he noticed just how close this one woman had been to Spock and the expression on his face once he got back (or rather, lack there of), it was all Kyle needed to know he had fucked up big time. It was only later, when he had talked with John, that he had found out the one he managed to let slip away was the guy’s mom.
The group of them headed back to the bridge, the technician taking control again, but all “Pavel” could bring himself to think about was just how much of a douche he was to let the one goddamn human on that forsaken planet, the one woman who was the commander’s only source of real love, no doubt, on a planet full of essentially machines, die like that. He could only hope her death was quick and painless. He would almost say he deserved torture if it wasn’t. Humans always buried their dead. It’s what made them different from those blasted machines then and it certainly hadn’t changed today. The ship worked on getting as many Vulcans on board as they could before the black hole ate everything and the managed to save a good few hundred more before having no choice but to get out of there. Some rescue mission.
It was a good hour when he had returned to the bridge, after he had resettled in his chair, Spock had had as close to a break down as he was going to get, and they were planning their next course of action that Pavel Chekov was able to pull himself out of his guilt and go back to doing his job. The others were talking of Earth being the next target. It was one of the many worlds within the Federation, as Kirk pointed out, and any of them were possible targets.
“Vell, eef ze Federashun ees ze target,” he wondered out loud, “why deedn’t ze destroy us?”
Sulu next to him shrugged. “Why would they? Why waste the weaponry?” Kyle smiled inwardly. This kid may be a bit more savvy about warfare than originally predicted. “Obviously, we weren’t a threat.”
Spock’s voice was calm as he thought about it. “That is not it. Nero said he wanted me to see something, the destruction of my home planet.”
“How the hell did they do that, by the way,” John -no McCoy- interrupted, so deep in thought he didn’t seem to notice as he paced around the captains’ chair, closer to where Kyle was sitting. It was a subtle but comforting gesture. He kept his fingers pressed to his lips, his dark eyes narrowed in thought as he stared out into space, “Where did the Romulans that that kind of weaponry?”
Spock’s answer was a logical one but rather far fetched if one had not lived the life Kyle had. The Vulcan said something about the technology to create a black hole was similar to the technology to travel through time. He leaned back in his chair, not caring about his little persona for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest as he thought about it. He supposed a race as advanced as the Romulans could manage it. They were essentially Vulcans… who PMSed on a constant basis. He felt bad for the male already.
“Dammit man, I’m a doctor, not a physicist!” Actually he was a marine but, eh, close enough. Whatever worked. “Are you saying their actually from the future?!”
Essentially, yes. It couldn’t possibly be that hard to grasp. After all the man knew his story. He had explained it several times over. It was just so strange to see it now in such a twisted setting.
There was arguing then about what to do, whether to go after the ship and try to over take it, while Kyle added his own two cents into rather happily when there was a giant hole in the theory, or do as Pike had apparently told Spock to do and rejoin the fleet in some other system. He only half paid attention to that argument, too focused on the gentle touch of his lover’s hand on the back of his chair, the fingers gently brushing his back as if to calm him while essentially all hell broke lose. Spock gave his orders and without question the ensign carried them out, not even bothering to look up when Kirk pulled the dumbest move he could have and fought off the security guards that were trying to escort him off the bridge. The last he heard of it, the man was knocked out by some Vulcan trick and jettisoned out to a planet nearby in a pod. Apparently there were some smart moves that this “pointed-eared hobgoblin” had up his sleeves.
In the time it took for them to get Jim off the ship, John had left the bridge also to presumably check on his more critical patients since he was no longer needed on the bridge. Or so was probably the excuse he’d give if someone asked. Kyle knew him better though. The former marine was twenty seconds away from seriously killing a certain copper-based blooded based half-breed and so decided it was probably safer for everyone involved to just get off the bridge. Besides, he that “work” he would probably say he had was technically true. He just didn’t need to be in the Sickbay, looking every man over with own two eyes to do it.
He loved the man, he really did, but sometimes his habits were just a bit annoying. Like this retreating when pissed off. Not that it was totally uncalled for right now but still. He’d have to have a chat with the man when he got off this shift. He had a feeling they’d both need each other. Maybe, just maybe, they’d try a few of those games that John had been wanting to take a whack at in bed that night. Anything to make the day disappear for a while, even if it would then come back to haunt them in their god-forsaken dreams with all the other shit they remembered from their other lives. At least they had their coping mechanisms working.
PART THREE - THE FINAL ACT
“You wanted to see me?” Pavel heard Leonard say behind him just as they entered the new system. He sounded annoyed and tired. Poor thing hadn’t gotten a chance to rest yet.
“Yes, doctor” Captain Spock said, getting to his feet and pacing around the outside of the bridge, not doubt to make McCoy follow him, “I am aware that James Kirk is a friend of yours. I recognize that supporting me as you did must have been difficult.”
“Is that a thank you?”
“I am simply acknowledging your difficulties.”
From where he sat at the helm, Kyle smiled to himself. Oh that wouldn’t sit well with his Reaper. Not from a kid like this Vulcan.
“Permission to speak freely, sir,” McCoy all but growled, keeping his anger locked away just enough to not let it seep into his voice. At least, the once soldier acknowledged, the man was able to keep his own more violent nature locked away, despite his temper.
“I welcome it.” Foolish Vulcan.
“Do you?” A quick glance around to make sure no one would within close enough range take him out like they did Jim other than this blue shirted alien, “Okay then. Are you out of your Vulcan mind?” Spock’s slight head tilt at those words made even Kyle, who was only paying attention out of the corner of his eye smile. “Are you making the logical choice sending Kirk away, probably, but the right one? You know, back home we’ve got a sayin’ ‘If you’re gonna ride at the Kentucky Derby, you don’t leave your prized stallion in the stable.’ ”
Why that saying? Of all the fuckin’ southern redneck of sayings to get the point across, why did John have to chose that one? Kyle almost face palmed when he heard this and actually did it mentally. That didn’t come across as slightly suggestive. Not at all! Dammit, Grim!
“A curious metaphor doctor,” Spock answered smoothly, “as a stallion must first be broken before it can reach it’s potential.” Oh the glare Reese knew the alien was getting from his lover now must be pretty fierce against that response but it didn’t look anywhere near as menacing as it once did when the man’s hair was shorter, his face scruffier and the splatter of blood against his cheeks. At that point, all he had been missing was the scythe and his old name from the Marines wouldn’t have been just an abstract figure in any sense.
“My god man, you could at least act like it was a hard decision!”
“I intend to assist in the effort to reestablish communication with Starfleet. However if crew moral is better served by my roaming the halls, weeping,” oh the sarcasm was dripping from that one, “then I will gladly defer to your medical expertise.” The turbo lift doors open and closed and Spock excused himself, leaving McCoy to mutter to himself about green blooded hobgoblins with such vehemence that the word a “amusing” didn’t do the action quite the justice it deserved.
The new CMO looked around for a while, becoming visibly nervous at the sight of space flying by on the vid screen in front of them and excusing himself off the bridge to go back to his office. While Kyle didn’t have the same fear, he understood the nervousness and accepted it. Space reminded him of Mars and Mars was the source of nearly all the man’s nightmares. It made sense that he didn’t want reminders here and now with his best friend still on some god-forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere by himself with nothing but the jacket they had given him and the clothes on his back as supplies. At least, from the information he had read about it, Pavel had assumed they had decided to grant the blond a jacket. He wouldn’t have survived otherwise. And if Jim was dead, he was pretty sure Spock wouldn’t be too far behind and it certainly wasn’t going to be in the pleasant sense.
The remainder of his shift ended, but since Spock did not take himself off duty, none of the bridge officers moved. Pavel Chekov was too excited to move but Kyle knew that it was wiser to stay in place since chances were that John was still fuming from earlier and would most likely stay on shift anyway until his precious Kirk got back onboard. However, since he had very little to do since the ride into the system was smooth and completely untroubled, he decided that he could afford to send his partner a few messages he could get around to when he had the chance. “Talk about a shit first day huh? How was it with you? Not too bad I hope.” He took comfort in the Russian lettering on the screen before he sent it and minimized his messenger. While Spock was temporarily distracted by Uhura (who had to be his girlfriend what with all the touching of a supposedly non-touch species going on) it was not big deal but he’d have to be careful about being caught. It wouldn’t look good for good-two shoes Pavel to be caught chatting during the second part of a double shift.
His messenger flashed and opened it again, reading the answering Russian quickly with a smile. “You have no fucking idea. Where the hell did these idiots get their medical degrees? From a cardboard box?” He smiled but didn’t laugh. Compared to the two of them, even the most experienced officers here were novices.
“Be nice. For what they know they aren’t too bad either are they? I had a pilot who forgot to deactivate the parking break on this thing.”
There was a long pause, presumably because John was laughing about that but eventually he got a reply. “I managed to nearly kill Jim with an allergic reaction to the vaccine I snuck him onboard with. His hands were huge!”
Even with trying to pretend he was surveying the surrounding area, Kyle couldn’t help his small pout. That was just mean. He wondered if John understood the possible wisecracks that could be made with that. “I would hope you’re not considering trading me in for a newer, younger model.”
The answer was quick, as if reassuring, just further proof of how stressed out the man was even where he was at the moment. “Of course not, babe. You know I love you. If I haven’t cheated on you in fifty years what makes you think I’d do it now?”
Kyle looked up at the view screen, looking at the reflection of the captain that was just staring distantly before typing in his last reply. “Well how about you prove it to me when we’re done with this double shift from hell? I’m sure we could find some activity that would make even the famous Jim Kirk blush just thinking about it.” It wasn’t so much a statement as it was a promise. Reese knew his Grim Reaper enjoyed games and this was certainly one of the more fun ones they had played in a long time.
There was a flash on his console that wasn’t his messenger so he tucked it away and looked over what the message said. Interesting. “Keptin, detecting unautorized access to vater turbine control boards.”
“On screen.”
A slide of his hands across the console so the video was playing on the giant screen in front of them. It should two figures, one that looked suspiciously like Jim and another one he didn’t recognize. How they got back aboard he didn’t know but he figured it wasn’t his concern anyway. He was just the navigator. It was up to the engineers to come up with answers for shit like that.
Spock called for a security team to capture the intruders and bring them up to the bridge. Kyle felt nervous just thinking about those damn electric things. They were far more effective at killing people than the old shot-guns and pistols were but still. Weapons were weapons and these ones were used primarily against people. Whatever happened to that damn camaraderie during the war with the machines? Human life was too precious then to think about taking from anyone with severe enough reason. He supposed that now that mankind had finally decided it could spare a few lives it was no big deal anymore.
It took ten minutes for the security people to drag Kirk and his buddy onto the bridge but the minute they were within sight, even when Spock was questioning them, Kyle was able to put two and two together quickly. How the hell did Jim find Montgomery Scott? Oh he had read about the guy who managed to get Admiral Archer’s dog to disappear and had been reassigned but he never heard about the details to it. All he knew was that it was some kind of transporter malfunction while he was working out his theory of transwarp beaming. Apparently, he had perfected it and hence they were here now.
Somehow though, Kirk managed to piss off the Vulcan to the point where he couldn’t hold back and the man fucking walloped him. He was all but thrown over the captain’s chair and quickly both navigator and pilot locked their consoles before getting out of the way, just in time for Jim to be thrown into them. At some point McCoy had made his way onto the bridge but instead of stopping the fight came up to stand behind Pavel, a hand on his shoulder as if to hold the teenager back when really he was restraining himself. Kyle couldn’t bring himself to feel pity for the kid once Spock had his hand around the guy’s neck and began strangling him. He had brought it on himself.
But then another Vulcan… presumably Spock’s dad, said his name sharply and the pressure on the blond was released after a minute or two. Kyle could feel John’s urge to jump forward and check on his friend but restrained the doctor as best he could by a simple movement and a look in the eye. The young man was gasping for breath but clearly breathing. He’d be fine, given a few minutes and a few rounds with a tissue regenerator, if that. John seemed to realize it after a minute too and relaxed as well.
Spock took a moment to compose himself but before he left the bridge, he told the doctor to make note that he was emotionally compromised and could not keep his command over the bridge any longer. McCoy agreed and as usual, Uhura got out of her chair to chase after him. Oh there was no way they were together. Of course not. She was just a fuckin’ puppy chasing after her much loved master. Stupid woman. That station was on the bridge for a reason!
“I like this ship!” Montgomery Scott said after a minute, breaking the tension with his voice, “It’s exciting!” One of the security guys rolled his eyes and the pair of them got Scotty off the bridge to give him a towel and a uniform to wear while he was onboard. Wonderful. Now they had someone new in charge. What was with this fuckin’ ship?!
John voiced his unspoken thoughts. “Way to go Jim. Now we got no captain and no goddamn first officer to replace him.”
Jim spent a couple of seconds catching his breath before answering “Yeah we do” and getting off the console he was still leaning against and hoping into the captain’s chair. John seemed to stare, somewhat in disgust and Kyle couldn’t agree more. If this was what the kid was after, that fight from earlier was a low blow.
“What.”
“Pike made him first officer,” Sulu informed them. John looked about ready to break something. It was kinda funny.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“Thanks for the support.”
Pavel Chekov took his seat at the helm again as the doctor threw up his hands in defeat and walked off the bridge, presumably back to his office, both himself and Sulu waiting for new orders. Uhura made a comment about the blond kid knowing what he was doing and the new captain said he did too. He made an announcement, predictably to go after the enemy ship, and so both pilot and navigator worked out the calculations and headings that would get them the quickest back towards Earth. The once Resistance fighter didn’t need to be told twice that this would be a long ass shot but his job was to follow orders and hope.
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PART II - THE ACADEMY DAYS
PART IV - THE JOURNEY HOME