New Fic (ST:XI/AOS)
One of those "hits you while you're falling asleep" ideas.
I've been seeing a lot of good stories based on a similar theme, but I tried to do something a little different here. Not quite sure if I pulled it off...
Kirk, gen.
Title: "I Know I'll Often Stop and Think About Them"
Rated: G
Summary: Some have gone and some remain...
Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related elements, characters and indicia © Paramount Pictures / Bad Robot / Spyglass Entertainment 2009. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Paramount Pictures / Bad Robot / Spyglass Entertainment 2009.
Please do not archive or distribute without author's permission.
"I Know I'll Often Stop and Think About Them"
by HawkMoth
******
Ten hours and thirty-three minutes:
It's going to take five days to reach Sector 001 on impulse power, but for now the most critical repairs are done, so they can all breathe a little easier. But James Kirk knows they can't afford to relax because that will lead to too much thinking, so he's maintaining a state of yellow alert, because who knows what could go wrong with a ship and crew already strained to the breaking point?
But she's tough and his crew is outstanding and they're going to make it home just fine. Rotating shifts will give everyone a chance to rest, yet keep them on their toes. He's supposed to be on downtime himself, at McCoy's and Spock's insistence, but he couldn't sleep even if he was drugged. Instead he's roaming the corridors of the lower decks at oh-dark-thirty, doing too much of the thinking he wants his crew to avoid.
There were numbers in the report that came through from Starfleet; staggering, horrific numbers. Too many people, too many ships gone in the blink of an eye. He might have been on any one of those ships; he might have been left behind on Earth, waiting for someone else to save the planet. Or not...there could have been the same ending as Vulcan's. Endless possibilities, as he's beginning to understand from that mind-bending meld with the Other Spock.
He wonders if anyone's trying to get into the 'Fleet records, if they've been updated and are even accessible yet, trying to put names and faces to those dreadful numbers, to find out who was lost, which friends are gone. He'll do it himself, eventually. It's the kind of responsibility he'll have to deal with from now on, so he'd better learn how to cope with it soon. And he owes it to them all, those victims of Nero's madness, because they're gone, and James Kirk remains.
Three weeks, one day, four hours and forty-eight minutes:
The memorial service is held out in the quad and it's brief, out of necessity: Starfleet and Earth Command must regroup as quickly as possible. That makes it all the more poignant, and when the fighters roar over the bay in the missing man formation, Jim Kirk is far from the only person blinking sunlight and something else out of his eyes.
He's already been briefed, first in private by soon-to-be-Admiral Pike, then more officially by Komack and Barnett, that his promotion is a done deal. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Komack had said with a very tight smile, and Jim knows that under other circumstances he'd be lucky to keep his lieutenant's stripes. He can't help but feel a little smug and elated, although it's still tinged with guilt and regret.
The review breaks up, and people are moving on. Jim looks up into the sky, seeing beyond the sunlight and high clouds, where the Enterprise sits in Spacedock, waiting for him. I'll do you proud, he thinks. We'll do them all proud.
Three weeks, five days, eight hours and fifteen minutes:
The night life in San Francisco is still very subdued. Jim sits with Bones and Montgomery Scott at a table in a quiet pub, ostensibly celebrating their confirmation as his CMO and COE respectively, but they've only had two drinks each. The conversation started with speculation about Jim's choice for a first officer, what with Spock seemingly out of the picture, then moved onto some glorious, outrageous plans for making their ship truly the pride of the fleet (Bones rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth as Jim and Scotty got more and more fired up).
Some plans will have to be deferred. They've all got friends and colleagues they'd love to have on board with them, but with the great losses they're needed elsewhere. Jim knows his friend Gary Mitchell is likely up for a captaincy of his own. McCoy talks about a bright young doctor named M'Benga, who's been assigned to some very hush-hush project concerning the survivors of Vulcan. Scotty's bummed out because his old pal John Kyle will be teaching in the Academy's new accelerated training program.
But names soon turn into "if onlys" and the conversation falters. Jim stares at his glass, then raises it; the others follow, in a wordless salute to the fallen.
One month, three weeks, four days and six minutes:
They're supposed to be on the way to the Aldebaran colonies. But thirty-six hours out, Jim holds a late-night conference with his command staff, and a crew briefing the next morning. A transmission to Starfleet is going to be slightly delayed due to some sub-space interference. By the time it arrives, reporting on damage to their navigational array and warp systems due to an ion storm, the Enterprise will already be back on course after a slight detour.
Officially, the Epsilon Eridani system is a no-fly zone, until Starfleet and the Federation Science Council receive permission from the surviving Vulcan elders to put probes and a small station at a safe distance to monitor the raw wound in space where their planet once existed. But Sulu and Chekov and Scotty have done enough math, science and brainstorming to prove it's safe to skim through the system, and Spock put the final stamp of approval on the plan.
As Sulu and Chekov deftly angle the ship past Delta Vega, Jim addresses the crew and calls for a moment of silence. A carefully calibrated firing of the phasers reflects perfectly off the ice planet's surface, creating an effect not unlike ancient Earth fireworks. Uhura channels the sight to all screens and viewing stations, and a tangible stillness seems to envelop the ship.
As their tribute fades away, Jim glances at Spock, who gives him a nod, and a look that could be called grateful, then calmly calls for a status report from all decks. Without being given the order, Sulu announces they're back on course for Aldebaran.
The sensor logs will be adjusted accordingly, and it will never be known that the Enterprise and her crew began their five-year mission by breaking the rules.
Two years, six months, eleven days and forty-five minutes:
Starships and their captains quickly gain reputations. The Enterprise's is solid throughout two quadrants, if not a little fearsome in some sectors. James Kirk gets the job done, is the byword on a dozen worlds, and if his methods are a bit unorthodox, Command generally has little reason to complain. Not when the results lead to periodic spikes in admissions to the Academy; not when member planets supply more credits and materiel to help restore the fleet than they did in the aftermath of the Battle of Vulcan.
There are other captains who respect and admire him, some who envy him, and a few who despise him. Jim knows certain admirals are watching him closely, and that others worry quietly about pride going before a fall. They wonder about his motives; what drives him to always beat the odds, to succeed at every mission.
At one time, he knows, it was to prove himself--to Captain Pike, to his family, to anyone who ever thought he'd never amount to anything. At one time, it was to prove to himself that he was worth more than anyone else thought.
He knows when that changed. What he became--what he is now and will be for the rest of his life is not about him. Why he does it is not just for his ship and his crew. Other people remember, of course; they know things changed that day.
But they'll never know how much everything changed, that day and twenty-five years before. Jim does, but he doesn't let it weigh him down. It's not a burden he carries, to honor all the lost. It's more of a debt, and his privilege to repay it, by being the best captain he can, of the best crew and finest ship in the fleet.
******
I've been seeing a lot of good stories based on a similar theme, but I tried to do something a little different here. Not quite sure if I pulled it off...
Kirk, gen.
Title: "I Know I'll Often Stop and Think About Them"
Rated: G
Summary: Some have gone and some remain...
Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related elements, characters and indicia © Paramount Pictures / Bad Robot / Spyglass Entertainment 2009. All Rights Reserved. All characters and situations-save those created by the authors for use solely on this website-are copyright Paramount Pictures / Bad Robot / Spyglass Entertainment 2009.
Please do not archive or distribute without author's permission.
"I Know I'll Often Stop and Think About Them"
by HawkMoth
******
Ten hours and thirty-three minutes:
It's going to take five days to reach Sector 001 on impulse power, but for now the most critical repairs are done, so they can all breathe a little easier. But James Kirk knows they can't afford to relax because that will lead to too much thinking, so he's maintaining a state of yellow alert, because who knows what could go wrong with a ship and crew already strained to the breaking point?
But she's tough and his crew is outstanding and they're going to make it home just fine. Rotating shifts will give everyone a chance to rest, yet keep them on their toes. He's supposed to be on downtime himself, at McCoy's and Spock's insistence, but he couldn't sleep even if he was drugged. Instead he's roaming the corridors of the lower decks at oh-dark-thirty, doing too much of the thinking he wants his crew to avoid.
There were numbers in the report that came through from Starfleet; staggering, horrific numbers. Too many people, too many ships gone in the blink of an eye. He might have been on any one of those ships; he might have been left behind on Earth, waiting for someone else to save the planet. Or not...there could have been the same ending as Vulcan's. Endless possibilities, as he's beginning to understand from that mind-bending meld with the Other Spock.
He wonders if anyone's trying to get into the 'Fleet records, if they've been updated and are even accessible yet, trying to put names and faces to those dreadful numbers, to find out who was lost, which friends are gone. He'll do it himself, eventually. It's the kind of responsibility he'll have to deal with from now on, so he'd better learn how to cope with it soon. And he owes it to them all, those victims of Nero's madness, because they're gone, and James Kirk remains.
Three weeks, one day, four hours and forty-eight minutes:
The memorial service is held out in the quad and it's brief, out of necessity: Starfleet and Earth Command must regroup as quickly as possible. That makes it all the more poignant, and when the fighters roar over the bay in the missing man formation, Jim Kirk is far from the only person blinking sunlight and something else out of his eyes.
He's already been briefed, first in private by soon-to-be-Admiral Pike, then more officially by Komack and Barnett, that his promotion is a done deal. Desperate times call for desperate measures, Komack had said with a very tight smile, and Jim knows that under other circumstances he'd be lucky to keep his lieutenant's stripes. He can't help but feel a little smug and elated, although it's still tinged with guilt and regret.
The review breaks up, and people are moving on. Jim looks up into the sky, seeing beyond the sunlight and high clouds, where the Enterprise sits in Spacedock, waiting for him. I'll do you proud, he thinks. We'll do them all proud.
Three weeks, five days, eight hours and fifteen minutes:
The night life in San Francisco is still very subdued. Jim sits with Bones and Montgomery Scott at a table in a quiet pub, ostensibly celebrating their confirmation as his CMO and COE respectively, but they've only had two drinks each. The conversation started with speculation about Jim's choice for a first officer, what with Spock seemingly out of the picture, then moved onto some glorious, outrageous plans for making their ship truly the pride of the fleet (Bones rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth as Jim and Scotty got more and more fired up).
Some plans will have to be deferred. They've all got friends and colleagues they'd love to have on board with them, but with the great losses they're needed elsewhere. Jim knows his friend Gary Mitchell is likely up for a captaincy of his own. McCoy talks about a bright young doctor named M'Benga, who's been assigned to some very hush-hush project concerning the survivors of Vulcan. Scotty's bummed out because his old pal John Kyle will be teaching in the Academy's new accelerated training program.
But names soon turn into "if onlys" and the conversation falters. Jim stares at his glass, then raises it; the others follow, in a wordless salute to the fallen.
One month, three weeks, four days and six minutes:
They're supposed to be on the way to the Aldebaran colonies. But thirty-six hours out, Jim holds a late-night conference with his command staff, and a crew briefing the next morning. A transmission to Starfleet is going to be slightly delayed due to some sub-space interference. By the time it arrives, reporting on damage to their navigational array and warp systems due to an ion storm, the Enterprise will already be back on course after a slight detour.
Officially, the Epsilon Eridani system is a no-fly zone, until Starfleet and the Federation Science Council receive permission from the surviving Vulcan elders to put probes and a small station at a safe distance to monitor the raw wound in space where their planet once existed. But Sulu and Chekov and Scotty have done enough math, science and brainstorming to prove it's safe to skim through the system, and Spock put the final stamp of approval on the plan.
As Sulu and Chekov deftly angle the ship past Delta Vega, Jim addresses the crew and calls for a moment of silence. A carefully calibrated firing of the phasers reflects perfectly off the ice planet's surface, creating an effect not unlike ancient Earth fireworks. Uhura channels the sight to all screens and viewing stations, and a tangible stillness seems to envelop the ship.
As their tribute fades away, Jim glances at Spock, who gives him a nod, and a look that could be called grateful, then calmly calls for a status report from all decks. Without being given the order, Sulu announces they're back on course for Aldebaran.
The sensor logs will be adjusted accordingly, and it will never be known that the Enterprise and her crew began their five-year mission by breaking the rules.
Two years, six months, eleven days and forty-five minutes:
Starships and their captains quickly gain reputations. The Enterprise's is solid throughout two quadrants, if not a little fearsome in some sectors. James Kirk gets the job done, is the byword on a dozen worlds, and if his methods are a bit unorthodox, Command generally has little reason to complain. Not when the results lead to periodic spikes in admissions to the Academy; not when member planets supply more credits and materiel to help restore the fleet than they did in the aftermath of the Battle of Vulcan.
There are other captains who respect and admire him, some who envy him, and a few who despise him. Jim knows certain admirals are watching him closely, and that others worry quietly about pride going before a fall. They wonder about his motives; what drives him to always beat the odds, to succeed at every mission.
At one time, he knows, it was to prove himself--to Captain Pike, to his family, to anyone who ever thought he'd never amount to anything. At one time, it was to prove to himself that he was worth more than anyone else thought.
He knows when that changed. What he became--what he is now and will be for the rest of his life is not about him. Why he does it is not just for his ship and his crew. Other people remember, of course; they know things changed that day.
But they'll never know how much everything changed, that day and twenty-five years before. Jim does, but he doesn't let it weigh him down. It's not a burden he carries, to honor all the lost. It's more of a debt, and his privilege to repay it, by being the best captain he can, of the best crew and finest ship in the fleet.
******