Fic: Triple Full (1B/1)
Author's Notes: Sorry, guys. I wrote this story as a one shot, and thanks to LJ's posting limits, I've found it very difficult to break up. There's really no good place to splice it, so apologies if it seems choppy this way.
Chapter | 1A | 1B | 1C | 1D | 1E |
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Kirk swallowed hard and plastered a smile on his face. He missed his own family while he was out in the black just as much as the lowest ranked enlisted man on the ship. But as much as he loved hanging out with his mom and brother, Sam’s kids weren’t his own. Sympathetic understanding was one thing, but Kirk knew he could never empathize with his best friend, nor did he even bother with an attempt. It humbled him; the fact that McCoy willingly chose to serve as the Enterprise’s CMO when the cost was watching his daughter grow up through holos and infrequent comm calls made Jim appreciative beyond words at Bones’ level of commitment. He swore that every day he’d work on repaying that favor, even if McCoy thought Kirk’s ulterior motive was to drive him to an early grave.
Jim wandered over to his best friend’s desk and picked up a holocube that resided right next to the framed paper photo of him, McCoy and Pike. Kirk snorted out loud as he looked down at the old Starfleet Academy picture. Jim couldn’t even remember what he did to incur the then-captain’s wrath for that particular incident, but whatever he did, it made for one great snapshot. Chris’ red, angry face was mere millimeters from Jim’s, and despite being the same height as Kirk (well, at least the same height then - Nero’s bug cost Chris an inch or two), Pike was dwarfing the younger man with his presence. Just off Jim’s right shoulder, Bones stood, caught in frame trying to maintain some decorum while Chris screamed at Jim. Len’s rolling eyes and sarcastic, exasperated smirk on his face said in an expression what Pike was probably saying with words. It was epitomic of the relationship the three men shared. If memory severed, there was beer involved directly afterwards.
Turning from the table and away from his memories, Jim tossed the holo up and down in his hands. He flipped it on and set it on the table, elbowing Bones hard enough to make the man move over towards the side of the couch. The little device projected a positively gorgeous three-dimensional image of Joanna. The girl was dressed in a purple, blue and white rhinestone-studded leotard, her body stretched but elegant, while she stood on the ball of her right foot. Her back was arched enough to physically accommodate the fact that her left leg, foot held loosely from behind by her left hand, was raised above her head. With her back and leg creating an illusion of a circle, it made her look like a human letter ‘P’. The flexibility, strength and balance the move required to pull it off so stylishly made Jim shudder.
Nudging McCoy’s shoulder, Kirk pointed. “Wow. That's a really bendy holo of your kid. Is that to remind you that it's possible for some people to do that and not break?”
Smirking, McCoy tilted his head towards the captain and stared at him with the expression reserved only for use on annoying little shit captains. In his trademarked sharp tone, he replied, “Are you volunteering to be a test subject? I’d love to give it a shot.”
“Whoa, whoa! I said ‘some people’! That doesn't include me!” Jim half-screeched as his hands flew up defensively in front of his face. Kirk opened his mouth and then closed it, tapping one finger against his chin. “But, now that you mention it, I do have a question.”
McCoy’s heavy sigh was his only reply.
“I have to know: does Jo get the flexibility gene from you, or Jocelyn? Because if it's from you, maybe we should reevaluate the whole ‘just BFFs’ thing,” Jim said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
Raising one ‘are you serious’ eyebrow, the doctor replied succinctly, “You were the student assistant in my Intro to Hand-to-Hand. You should know the answer to that one.”
Jim shook his head, disbelief on his face. “And here I thought you faked that groin injury to get out of the basic throws exercises.”
“Are you kidding me? O’ course I faked that one. That hand to hand class was the most idiotic waste of my time in the three years I spent at the academy, and that includes the semester I was stuck in Interstellar Physics because some asshole in student affairs couldn’t read a goddamned schedule right!”
“Why don’t you tell us how your really feel, Len?” Uhura said with a laugh, popping a piece of cauliflower in her mouth from the tray on the counter.
“Doesn’t he always?” Sulu chimed in as he joined Nyota in front of the food. He handed the young lady a beer that she accepted readily, unscrewing the cap barehanded without a flinch before she took a long, satisfying pull.
McCoy shook his head. It was amazing how at home his friends were in a place that clearly was not theirs to claim. Stretching out lazily on the sofa, he gave Jim’s hip a surprisingly hard kick, sending the younger man toppling to the floor with a strangled yelp. McCoy smirked proudly, propped his feet up on the suddenly unoccupied armrest and leaned backwards. “I guess I don’t get a say in this.”
“Nope,” came three identical responses.
With a dramatic, put upon sigh, McCoy’s hand reached across from the couch to the coffee table and groped until he found the stim shot and hypo itself. Out of habit, he checked the dosage, loaded the cartridge, flipped it over and dosed himself in the neck. “So much for sleep.”
“You can do that when you’re dead, Bones,” Kirk informed his friend as he accepted a hand up from Sulu. Wincing at his sore hip, he added, “Man, that hurt.”
McCoy lifted his eyes towards Jim’s as he felt the pleasant tingling of the stimulant rush through his body. Suddenly rejuvenated, his limbs didn’t feel as heavy and the fog that settled over his mind began to lift. The medical side of him knew it was simply a chemically manufactured euphoria, but his screaming body didn’t care. He gave Kirk a worthy glare and sniped back, “It was supposed to hurt. I want you to feel my pain. At this rate, you’re going to be the one who puts me six feet under.”
Uhura actually laughed out loud. “Not if you airlock him first, like you’ve been threatening to do for the last - oh, I don’t know how many years!”
Sulu leaned over and mock-whispered in Nyota’s ear, “We’re selling tickets. We’ll make enough to retire.”
McCoy bobbed his eyebrows up and down. “You give me a cut and I’ll do it. I’ll plead temporary insanity at the hearing. After all the ammunition you all have given me, there’s no way in hell it won’t work.”
“Looks like I’m sunk,” Jim admitted, dropping his head to his chin and raising his hands in sarcastic surrender. Glancing towards the screen, he pointed. “And, I think we’re about to start.”
A slightly frenetic burst of energy stormed through the room as the five people in the doctor’s quarters all jockeyed for a place to sit. Equal parts comedic and discouraging, staking a claim to the available furniture real estate was an event in and of itself. Some crushed toes, sore ribs and bruised egos later, the five present members of the Enterprise’s senior staff were all strategically positioned in front of McCoy’s vidscreen.
The doctor couldn’t help the real smile that graced his features when Joanna’s name was announced. The slight but well toned and muscled young lady stepped forward from the line of teammates, raised both her arms above her head, puffed her chest out and smirked before she lowered her arms and stepped back into line.
“Come on, Jojo,” McCoy whispered as the group dispersed.
“What’s she starting on? Anyone know the order for this competition?” Uhura asked, dropping one of the trays of food she retrieved from the kitchen on top of the coffee table.
“Olympic order, like usual I’m sure,” Jim replied succinctly.
Sulu shook his head, pointing to the screen with the hand that held his beer. “Actually, I don’t think so. Look - Jo’s wrapping up.”
Indeed, all heads turned back towards the screen in time to see Jo disperse with the other athletes, trotting over to her starting apparatus. She plopped down on the floor, reached into her bag and pulled out a set of white leather grips. Pulling the rectangular protectants over her fingers and securing them with the buckle style strap around her wrist, Jo clapping her hands together a couple of times and bounced in place on the floor, ridding herself of some nervous energy.
The charged, anticipatory energy of the room suddenly flicked into nervousness as all present members realized what was happening. Chekov was the first to speak. “Why must Joanna start on uneven bars? It is not her specialty!”
“True, but at least she’ll get it out of the way. She flies so well if she’s on,” Uhura surmised, tucking her leg up under her butt.
Sulu reached towards the meat tray and snagged a piece of roast beef and a pickle. Crunching loudly, he said through a half full mouth, “But only if she’s on. You know how hot and cold Jo is on bars.”
“Here’s to hoping she’s hot,” Jim said without thinking. Turning his head towards his glaring best friend, Kirk rolled his eyes and shoved McCoy’s shoulder. “You know I don’t mean it like that! Jesus, stop looking at me like I just hit on your kid! She’s fifteen, for God’s sake! And did I mention that she’s your daughter?!”
“I put nothing past you, Jim. Remember, we were roommates at the Academy,” McCoy parroted, shoving Jim’s words from earlier back in his face.
“God, that stim shot is not strong enough. You’re still being a crabby bastard,” Kirk muttered, instead turning his attention towards the screen while he sipped his beer.
The captain watched as Joanna focused, staring intently at the apparatus while she waited for the previous gymnast’s score to post. The young lady rolled her right ankle around in a slow circle and kicked out her legs a couple of times to stay loose. Going over to the chalk bowl, Joanna rubbed more of the white powder under her grips and all over the palms of her hands before wandering back to her starting position to wait.
The green flag finally went up, and with a raise of her right hand, Joanna puffed out her chest, lifted her chin and saluted the judges. Focusing on the low bar, she jumped forward, grabbed the bar and swung her feet under. Little white particles of chalk mushroomed up above her hands and head when her hands contacted the flexible bar. Unfazed, Jo pressed through, using the forward momentum in counteraction to help draw her hips up level with the bar. At the same time, she swung her legs under and popped straight into a handstand with the ease and precision borne of years upon years of work. She effortlessly made her first full pirouette, took a swing with her legs straddled under the bar and then completed another full turn perfectly in handstand at the top of the bar. Joanna tightened her core and allowed her momentum to put her into a backwards swing. She straddled her legs again to avoid hitting her feet or legs on the mat beneath her. But instead of swinging clear though, she kicked her feet high into the air and threw her body up and forward. The sudden move lobbed her up to the high bar, and after catching cleanly, Jo kipped to a perfectly vertical handstand.
McCoy was doing everything in his power to stay seated. Uneven bars always made him nervous - hell, everything about gymnastics scared him to death, but his little girl seemed to love the sport. He was well aware that Joanna knew what she was doing. The tricks in her routines were practiced over and over again, worked until she could do them in her sleep. But the hours of preparation and top-notch coaching were of little comfort to Len, both as her father and as a doctor with direct knowledge of the fragility of the human body. Accidents still happened, muscle memory and training be damned.
Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Len focused as Joanna swung what she called a “giant”, or as she explained to him, a full circle completely around the high bar. She came back around for another revolution, but instead of swinging through the downstroke cleanly, she piked at the waist and stuck her toes on the bar as she hit six o’clock position. Squeezing every muscle in her body, Jo used the swing and momentum to literally launch herself through the air, completely laid out as she flew backwards over the high bar. She kicked her feet through the move, toes barely clearing the bar as she caught in an emphatic cloud of chalk to cheers and whistles in the gym. The room on the Enterprise erupted into a similar chorus; despite the difference in languages, the expressions of joy all meant the same thing.
“Whoo!” Uhura yelled. “She caught that by her fingertips!”
“Yes, but important part is that she caught the bar,” Chekov added, giddy with excitement for Joanna to continue the routine.
Kirk squeezed the beer bottle, breath held in anticipation. “Yeah!” he shouted loudly while he pumped a stoked fist through the air and high-fived Sulu. “She just nailed her flying thing - what is that move called? A Nabieva?”
“Ding, ding, ding! Captain wins,” Uhura confirmed. Without taking her eyes from the competition, she added coyly, “But don’t even think about trying it yourself. You’ll tear your hands to shreds.”
“Bones’ll fix it,” Jim replied petulantly as he drained the dregs of his beer and perfectly tossed the empty into the garbage across the room.
“No, Bones will not fix it. If you decide that you want to swing around in circles while you break every single bone in your body, that’s your problem. You can deal with the consequences. You’d deserve it, idiot,” McCoy fired back as he leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. Interlacing his fingers and using it an impromptu chin rest, he muttered in addition, “Now, shut up and let me finish watching my daughter’s bar set.”
“Seriously? Did you hear yourself just then?” Jim pouted as he turned his attention back to the screen. “Your mouth always moving. You can talk and do a lot of stuff at the same time. Why is this any different?”
“Because I’m working on not having a heart attack in the middle of my own quarters while I watch my daughter take her own life in her hands. Why would I be worried about this? Well, as I’m surrounded by people who will just point and laugh when I drop dead, I find that to be a matter of concern. Now shut. The hell. Up.” McCoy punctuated his statement by grabbing the remote for his vidscreen and cranking the volume to a slightly uncomfortable level. Satisfied that he could see Jim’s lips moving while no sound was audible, the doctor settled back into the overstuffed couch and watched his daughter finish her bar routine.
Joanna swung a giant around the high bar, straddling her legs in order to clear her feet from hitting the low bar as she passed. She wound up, gathering an insane amount of speed for the dismount, kicking hard as she soared underneath the high bar. She straightened every part of her body, from her neck to her toes, initiating the two laid out somersaults she planned on doing as a dismount. She drove her legs hard through the flips, spotted the ground, and stuck her feet down into the mat. With a small hop forward, Joanna smiled, saluted the judges and trotted away from the apparatus.
A burst of fresh cheers took over McCoy’s quarters as the adults celebrated a well-executed bar set. Several high fives were exchanged and held breaths released. But through the elation, Kirk could feel the CMO’s gaze boring holes into the side of his head. He allowed his eyes to slide over in the older man’s direction before he said nonchalantly, “What?”
“You knew what Jo’s big release skill was called,” he said through narrowed, suspicious eyes. The doctor turned his intense stare towards the other occupants in the room and added, “And the rest of you knew that bars isn’t Jo’s best event. Is there something you people want to tell me?”
Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Really, Bones? You think you’re the only one who watches this feed when we’re able to get it to the ship?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I did think I was the only one watching,” he replied as the doctor leveled a cold glare at Chekov. “I didn’t realize that my daughter was your business, Captain.”
The rest of the room’s occupants dissolved into a hazy mist of background doldrums when Kirk turned his neck and glared at his best friend. “It’s my business when it involves the welfare of my crew, Lieutenant Commander,” Kirk fired back, reciprocating with McCoy’s rank in full command voice.
The doctor growled something unintelligible under his breath while his face contorted into a proper snarl.
Perched on the ottoman just to the left of the couch, Uhura sighed. She unfolded her long legs and set her feet on the floor. Spinning in a half circle to face the room’s owner, she laid a gentle hand on his thigh and looked him in the eye. In a reserved, subdued voice she rarely used, Nyota said, “Len, all bullshit aside, we’ll leave if you’d rather watch this alone. But we’re here now because Jo’s family just like you are.” She paused, tilted her head and in the sharp, confident tone everyone was use to as Uhura’s ‘bridge voice’, she added, “Even if we want to hit you with a beer bottle every now and again.”
McCoy swiped one hand over his face while long fingers massaged his temples. “Ah, hell,” he began, his natural Georgian accent thickening on account of stress and tiredness. He lifted his chin and smiled at Uhura when he said, “You all can stay. My momma would be disappointed in me if I threw you out now, after you all have gone to the trouble you have on my account.”
“Well, not all yours,” Sulu said without thinking as he reached for a sandwich. He took a large bite, chased it with some beer and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, steadfastly ignoring the napkin Chekov waved in his face. He held up one finger while he finished chewing before he said, “Speaking of trouble, Chekov, I do have one question.”
As the gymnasts rotated through the next apparatus, Pavel turned slowly around to face his friend. The young man looked like a deer caught in the headlights; his blue eyes looked ready to pop out of his head at any given moment. His gaze shifted nervously from person to person before he finally replied nervously,” Yes, Hikaru?”
“I want to know how you managed to stream the meet all the way to the Enterprise. It’s not like we’re just off a starbase, and that’s the only time we can pick up these feeds,” he questioned, asking the one thing everyone in the room was dying to know.
Chekov cringed and looked down. “I would prefer not to answer that. It would be best for you if you did not know. It required…creatiwity.”
McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. His face was locked into stony disapproval as he stared down the Russian navigator practically quaking in fear on the floor of his quarters. “So you hacked it, then?”
Pavel took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he contemplated how to best phrase his response to mitigate his brig time. “I do not believe that ‘hacked’ is the right word. More like,” Chekov began, searching his surprisingly vast English vocabulary for the right word. He tapped his finger against the side of his face a couple of times before he blurted out, “More like ‘intercepted’ the transmission.”
The doctor’s expression remained stony as he breathed in and out. Finally, the death glare receded as a smile graced his lips. Nodding a couple of times, McCoy snorted and told Pavel, “Pretty good, kid.”
Chekov beamed. “Thank you! Sometimes, I even impress myself.”
“Don’t get too proud,” McCoy grumbled, looking around the room and into the faces of his snickering friends. He shifted on the couch, trying to regain some of his intimidation factor as he added, “But let’s get this straight: you break into my quarters again like this, I’m just gonna hogtie you and throw you out the door. Got it?”
“Da. Ya pon-ee-mai-yo,” Chekov replied in Russian, signifying his comprehension.
“Hey, speaking of unauthorized guests, where’s Scotty?” Uhura asked.
“Scotty? Oh, shit…” Jim replied, dropping his head into his hands. “I forgot all about him.”
Continue on to Part 1C
Chapter | 1A | 1B | 1C | 1D | 1E |
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Kirk swallowed hard and plastered a smile on his face. He missed his own family while he was out in the black just as much as the lowest ranked enlisted man on the ship. But as much as he loved hanging out with his mom and brother, Sam’s kids weren’t his own. Sympathetic understanding was one thing, but Kirk knew he could never empathize with his best friend, nor did he even bother with an attempt. It humbled him; the fact that McCoy willingly chose to serve as the Enterprise’s CMO when the cost was watching his daughter grow up through holos and infrequent comm calls made Jim appreciative beyond words at Bones’ level of commitment. He swore that every day he’d work on repaying that favor, even if McCoy thought Kirk’s ulterior motive was to drive him to an early grave.
Jim wandered over to his best friend’s desk and picked up a holocube that resided right next to the framed paper photo of him, McCoy and Pike. Kirk snorted out loud as he looked down at the old Starfleet Academy picture. Jim couldn’t even remember what he did to incur the then-captain’s wrath for that particular incident, but whatever he did, it made for one great snapshot. Chris’ red, angry face was mere millimeters from Jim’s, and despite being the same height as Kirk (well, at least the same height then - Nero’s bug cost Chris an inch or two), Pike was dwarfing the younger man with his presence. Just off Jim’s right shoulder, Bones stood, caught in frame trying to maintain some decorum while Chris screamed at Jim. Len’s rolling eyes and sarcastic, exasperated smirk on his face said in an expression what Pike was probably saying with words. It was epitomic of the relationship the three men shared. If memory severed, there was beer involved directly afterwards.
Turning from the table and away from his memories, Jim tossed the holo up and down in his hands. He flipped it on and set it on the table, elbowing Bones hard enough to make the man move over towards the side of the couch. The little device projected a positively gorgeous three-dimensional image of Joanna. The girl was dressed in a purple, blue and white rhinestone-studded leotard, her body stretched but elegant, while she stood on the ball of her right foot. Her back was arched enough to physically accommodate the fact that her left leg, foot held loosely from behind by her left hand, was raised above her head. With her back and leg creating an illusion of a circle, it made her look like a human letter ‘P’. The flexibility, strength and balance the move required to pull it off so stylishly made Jim shudder.
Nudging McCoy’s shoulder, Kirk pointed. “Wow. That's a really bendy holo of your kid. Is that to remind you that it's possible for some people to do that and not break?”
Smirking, McCoy tilted his head towards the captain and stared at him with the expression reserved only for use on annoying little shit captains. In his trademarked sharp tone, he replied, “Are you volunteering to be a test subject? I’d love to give it a shot.”
“Whoa, whoa! I said ‘some people’! That doesn't include me!” Jim half-screeched as his hands flew up defensively in front of his face. Kirk opened his mouth and then closed it, tapping one finger against his chin. “But, now that you mention it, I do have a question.”
McCoy’s heavy sigh was his only reply.
“I have to know: does Jo get the flexibility gene from you, or Jocelyn? Because if it's from you, maybe we should reevaluate the whole ‘just BFFs’ thing,” Jim said with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
Raising one ‘are you serious’ eyebrow, the doctor replied succinctly, “You were the student assistant in my Intro to Hand-to-Hand. You should know the answer to that one.”
Jim shook his head, disbelief on his face. “And here I thought you faked that groin injury to get out of the basic throws exercises.”
“Are you kidding me? O’ course I faked that one. That hand to hand class was the most idiotic waste of my time in the three years I spent at the academy, and that includes the semester I was stuck in Interstellar Physics because some asshole in student affairs couldn’t read a goddamned schedule right!”
“Why don’t you tell us how your really feel, Len?” Uhura said with a laugh, popping a piece of cauliflower in her mouth from the tray on the counter.
“Doesn’t he always?” Sulu chimed in as he joined Nyota in front of the food. He handed the young lady a beer that she accepted readily, unscrewing the cap barehanded without a flinch before she took a long, satisfying pull.
McCoy shook his head. It was amazing how at home his friends were in a place that clearly was not theirs to claim. Stretching out lazily on the sofa, he gave Jim’s hip a surprisingly hard kick, sending the younger man toppling to the floor with a strangled yelp. McCoy smirked proudly, propped his feet up on the suddenly unoccupied armrest and leaned backwards. “I guess I don’t get a say in this.”
“Nope,” came three identical responses.
With a dramatic, put upon sigh, McCoy’s hand reached across from the couch to the coffee table and groped until he found the stim shot and hypo itself. Out of habit, he checked the dosage, loaded the cartridge, flipped it over and dosed himself in the neck. “So much for sleep.”
“You can do that when you’re dead, Bones,” Kirk informed his friend as he accepted a hand up from Sulu. Wincing at his sore hip, he added, “Man, that hurt.”
McCoy lifted his eyes towards Jim’s as he felt the pleasant tingling of the stimulant rush through his body. Suddenly rejuvenated, his limbs didn’t feel as heavy and the fog that settled over his mind began to lift. The medical side of him knew it was simply a chemically manufactured euphoria, but his screaming body didn’t care. He gave Kirk a worthy glare and sniped back, “It was supposed to hurt. I want you to feel my pain. At this rate, you’re going to be the one who puts me six feet under.”
Uhura actually laughed out loud. “Not if you airlock him first, like you’ve been threatening to do for the last - oh, I don’t know how many years!”
Sulu leaned over and mock-whispered in Nyota’s ear, “We’re selling tickets. We’ll make enough to retire.”
McCoy bobbed his eyebrows up and down. “You give me a cut and I’ll do it. I’ll plead temporary insanity at the hearing. After all the ammunition you all have given me, there’s no way in hell it won’t work.”
“Looks like I’m sunk,” Jim admitted, dropping his head to his chin and raising his hands in sarcastic surrender. Glancing towards the screen, he pointed. “And, I think we’re about to start.”
A slightly frenetic burst of energy stormed through the room as the five people in the doctor’s quarters all jockeyed for a place to sit. Equal parts comedic and discouraging, staking a claim to the available furniture real estate was an event in and of itself. Some crushed toes, sore ribs and bruised egos later, the five present members of the Enterprise’s senior staff were all strategically positioned in front of McCoy’s vidscreen.
The doctor couldn’t help the real smile that graced his features when Joanna’s name was announced. The slight but well toned and muscled young lady stepped forward from the line of teammates, raised both her arms above her head, puffed her chest out and smirked before she lowered her arms and stepped back into line.
“Come on, Jojo,” McCoy whispered as the group dispersed.
“What’s she starting on? Anyone know the order for this competition?” Uhura asked, dropping one of the trays of food she retrieved from the kitchen on top of the coffee table.
“Olympic order, like usual I’m sure,” Jim replied succinctly.
Sulu shook his head, pointing to the screen with the hand that held his beer. “Actually, I don’t think so. Look - Jo’s wrapping up.”
Indeed, all heads turned back towards the screen in time to see Jo disperse with the other athletes, trotting over to her starting apparatus. She plopped down on the floor, reached into her bag and pulled out a set of white leather grips. Pulling the rectangular protectants over her fingers and securing them with the buckle style strap around her wrist, Jo clapping her hands together a couple of times and bounced in place on the floor, ridding herself of some nervous energy.
The charged, anticipatory energy of the room suddenly flicked into nervousness as all present members realized what was happening. Chekov was the first to speak. “Why must Joanna start on uneven bars? It is not her specialty!”
“True, but at least she’ll get it out of the way. She flies so well if she’s on,” Uhura surmised, tucking her leg up under her butt.
Sulu reached towards the meat tray and snagged a piece of roast beef and a pickle. Crunching loudly, he said through a half full mouth, “But only if she’s on. You know how hot and cold Jo is on bars.”
“Here’s to hoping she’s hot,” Jim said without thinking. Turning his head towards his glaring best friend, Kirk rolled his eyes and shoved McCoy’s shoulder. “You know I don’t mean it like that! Jesus, stop looking at me like I just hit on your kid! She’s fifteen, for God’s sake! And did I mention that she’s your daughter?!”
“I put nothing past you, Jim. Remember, we were roommates at the Academy,” McCoy parroted, shoving Jim’s words from earlier back in his face.
“God, that stim shot is not strong enough. You’re still being a crabby bastard,” Kirk muttered, instead turning his attention towards the screen while he sipped his beer.
The captain watched as Joanna focused, staring intently at the apparatus while she waited for the previous gymnast’s score to post. The young lady rolled her right ankle around in a slow circle and kicked out her legs a couple of times to stay loose. Going over to the chalk bowl, Joanna rubbed more of the white powder under her grips and all over the palms of her hands before wandering back to her starting position to wait.
The green flag finally went up, and with a raise of her right hand, Joanna puffed out her chest, lifted her chin and saluted the judges. Focusing on the low bar, she jumped forward, grabbed the bar and swung her feet under. Little white particles of chalk mushroomed up above her hands and head when her hands contacted the flexible bar. Unfazed, Jo pressed through, using the forward momentum in counteraction to help draw her hips up level with the bar. At the same time, she swung her legs under and popped straight into a handstand with the ease and precision borne of years upon years of work. She effortlessly made her first full pirouette, took a swing with her legs straddled under the bar and then completed another full turn perfectly in handstand at the top of the bar. Joanna tightened her core and allowed her momentum to put her into a backwards swing. She straddled her legs again to avoid hitting her feet or legs on the mat beneath her. But instead of swinging clear though, she kicked her feet high into the air and threw her body up and forward. The sudden move lobbed her up to the high bar, and after catching cleanly, Jo kipped to a perfectly vertical handstand.
McCoy was doing everything in his power to stay seated. Uneven bars always made him nervous - hell, everything about gymnastics scared him to death, but his little girl seemed to love the sport. He was well aware that Joanna knew what she was doing. The tricks in her routines were practiced over and over again, worked until she could do them in her sleep. But the hours of preparation and top-notch coaching were of little comfort to Len, both as her father and as a doctor with direct knowledge of the fragility of the human body. Accidents still happened, muscle memory and training be damned.
Pushing those thoughts from his mind, Len focused as Joanna swung what she called a “giant”, or as she explained to him, a full circle completely around the high bar. She came back around for another revolution, but instead of swinging through the downstroke cleanly, she piked at the waist and stuck her toes on the bar as she hit six o’clock position. Squeezing every muscle in her body, Jo used the swing and momentum to literally launch herself through the air, completely laid out as she flew backwards over the high bar. She kicked her feet through the move, toes barely clearing the bar as she caught in an emphatic cloud of chalk to cheers and whistles in the gym. The room on the Enterprise erupted into a similar chorus; despite the difference in languages, the expressions of joy all meant the same thing.
“Whoo!” Uhura yelled. “She caught that by her fingertips!”
“Yes, but important part is that she caught the bar,” Chekov added, giddy with excitement for Joanna to continue the routine.
Kirk squeezed the beer bottle, breath held in anticipation. “Yeah!” he shouted loudly while he pumped a stoked fist through the air and high-fived Sulu. “She just nailed her flying thing - what is that move called? A Nabieva?”
“Ding, ding, ding! Captain wins,” Uhura confirmed. Without taking her eyes from the competition, she added coyly, “But don’t even think about trying it yourself. You’ll tear your hands to shreds.”
“Bones’ll fix it,” Jim replied petulantly as he drained the dregs of his beer and perfectly tossed the empty into the garbage across the room.
“No, Bones will not fix it. If you decide that you want to swing around in circles while you break every single bone in your body, that’s your problem. You can deal with the consequences. You’d deserve it, idiot,” McCoy fired back as he leaned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. Interlacing his fingers and using it an impromptu chin rest, he muttered in addition, “Now, shut up and let me finish watching my daughter’s bar set.”
“Seriously? Did you hear yourself just then?” Jim pouted as he turned his attention back to the screen. “Your mouth always moving. You can talk and do a lot of stuff at the same time. Why is this any different?”
“Because I’m working on not having a heart attack in the middle of my own quarters while I watch my daughter take her own life in her hands. Why would I be worried about this? Well, as I’m surrounded by people who will just point and laugh when I drop dead, I find that to be a matter of concern. Now shut. The hell. Up.” McCoy punctuated his statement by grabbing the remote for his vidscreen and cranking the volume to a slightly uncomfortable level. Satisfied that he could see Jim’s lips moving while no sound was audible, the doctor settled back into the overstuffed couch and watched his daughter finish her bar routine.
Joanna swung a giant around the high bar, straddling her legs in order to clear her feet from hitting the low bar as she passed. She wound up, gathering an insane amount of speed for the dismount, kicking hard as she soared underneath the high bar. She straightened every part of her body, from her neck to her toes, initiating the two laid out somersaults she planned on doing as a dismount. She drove her legs hard through the flips, spotted the ground, and stuck her feet down into the mat. With a small hop forward, Joanna smiled, saluted the judges and trotted away from the apparatus.
A burst of fresh cheers took over McCoy’s quarters as the adults celebrated a well-executed bar set. Several high fives were exchanged and held breaths released. But through the elation, Kirk could feel the CMO’s gaze boring holes into the side of his head. He allowed his eyes to slide over in the older man’s direction before he said nonchalantly, “What?”
“You knew what Jo’s big release skill was called,” he said through narrowed, suspicious eyes. The doctor turned his intense stare towards the other occupants in the room and added, “And the rest of you knew that bars isn’t Jo’s best event. Is there something you people want to tell me?”
Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Really, Bones? You think you’re the only one who watches this feed when we’re able to get it to the ship?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I did think I was the only one watching,” he replied as the doctor leveled a cold glare at Chekov. “I didn’t realize that my daughter was your business, Captain.”
The rest of the room’s occupants dissolved into a hazy mist of background doldrums when Kirk turned his neck and glared at his best friend. “It’s my business when it involves the welfare of my crew, Lieutenant Commander,” Kirk fired back, reciprocating with McCoy’s rank in full command voice.
The doctor growled something unintelligible under his breath while his face contorted into a proper snarl.
Perched on the ottoman just to the left of the couch, Uhura sighed. She unfolded her long legs and set her feet on the floor. Spinning in a half circle to face the room’s owner, she laid a gentle hand on his thigh and looked him in the eye. In a reserved, subdued voice she rarely used, Nyota said, “Len, all bullshit aside, we’ll leave if you’d rather watch this alone. But we’re here now because Jo’s family just like you are.” She paused, tilted her head and in the sharp, confident tone everyone was use to as Uhura’s ‘bridge voice’, she added, “Even if we want to hit you with a beer bottle every now and again.”
McCoy swiped one hand over his face while long fingers massaged his temples. “Ah, hell,” he began, his natural Georgian accent thickening on account of stress and tiredness. He lifted his chin and smiled at Uhura when he said, “You all can stay. My momma would be disappointed in me if I threw you out now, after you all have gone to the trouble you have on my account.”
“Well, not all yours,” Sulu said without thinking as he reached for a sandwich. He took a large bite, chased it with some beer and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, steadfastly ignoring the napkin Chekov waved in his face. He held up one finger while he finished chewing before he said, “Speaking of trouble, Chekov, I do have one question.”
As the gymnasts rotated through the next apparatus, Pavel turned slowly around to face his friend. The young man looked like a deer caught in the headlights; his blue eyes looked ready to pop out of his head at any given moment. His gaze shifted nervously from person to person before he finally replied nervously,” Yes, Hikaru?”
“I want to know how you managed to stream the meet all the way to the Enterprise. It’s not like we’re just off a starbase, and that’s the only time we can pick up these feeds,” he questioned, asking the one thing everyone in the room was dying to know.
Chekov cringed and looked down. “I would prefer not to answer that. It would be best for you if you did not know. It required…creatiwity.”
McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. His face was locked into stony disapproval as he stared down the Russian navigator practically quaking in fear on the floor of his quarters. “So you hacked it, then?”
Pavel took a bite of his sandwich, chewing slowly as he contemplated how to best phrase his response to mitigate his brig time. “I do not believe that ‘hacked’ is the right word. More like,” Chekov began, searching his surprisingly vast English vocabulary for the right word. He tapped his finger against the side of his face a couple of times before he blurted out, “More like ‘intercepted’ the transmission.”
The doctor’s expression remained stony as he breathed in and out. Finally, the death glare receded as a smile graced his lips. Nodding a couple of times, McCoy snorted and told Pavel, “Pretty good, kid.”
Chekov beamed. “Thank you! Sometimes, I even impress myself.”
“Don’t get too proud,” McCoy grumbled, looking around the room and into the faces of his snickering friends. He shifted on the couch, trying to regain some of his intimidation factor as he added, “But let’s get this straight: you break into my quarters again like this, I’m just gonna hogtie you and throw you out the door. Got it?”
“Da. Ya pon-ee-mai-yo,” Chekov replied in Russian, signifying his comprehension.
“Hey, speaking of unauthorized guests, where’s Scotty?” Uhura asked.
“Scotty? Oh, shit…” Jim replied, dropping his head into his hands. “I forgot all about him.”
Continue on to Part 1C