[ST] Broken Folk 3/6

[castofone]

Bigger Than I Am

San Francisco - June 2272
McCoy woke up that morning like he had on the majority of all mornings for the past four years - alone with the sensation that something was missing in his life. Most mornings he was too busy to pause and consider what it really meant, but this morning felt different from the others. There was a ringing of regret deep in the pit of his stomach that stayed with him well past the two cups of coffee that usually made them go away.

And if his mind directed him toward the small wooden box on his dresser that morning to pull out the damned dog tag that he had managed to avoid looking at in nearly three months? Well, that was just the universe reminding him that while he might be able to heal people, it was not without it’s cost.

Perhaps the lingering thoughts of Jim had to do with his impending shuttle ride to Republic in three days and his return to a place that he had to leave behind. Or maybe it was about leaving this place.

Not that San Francisco was home. McCoy had never expected it to be. He was not the sort of man who found home in any singular place. Home for him was a moment in time or the people that disrupted the molecules in the air around him. Georgia had been home because Gram was there along with his dad and all of those other pieces that imbued meaning to something as plain as physical location.

San Francisco had only been anything close to home after the fourth class earned their carry on and he had the liberty to forge a friendship with Jim. And hell, even that bucket of bolts across the galaxy making headway near the Romulan Neutral Zone had been home for a time. Only that was taken from him when Jim walked away, but maybe that was the price in finding home in mutable objects or people.

Even with his baby girl here San Francisco was an assignment, something he put up with because he was good at what he did and had a chance to change protocol and procedures well past his own lifetime. (There was also the small fact that the choice was the Academy or Capella and if he was going to deal with stupidity, he always preferred the human sort.)

So, maybe it wasn’t butterflies because he was going home because the black certainly wasn’t home or leaving this home, but it wasn’t his fear of flying either because by now that was an old hat. No, this was something else all together - something that felt similar to Jim bounding into his room with his next reckless idea that would only add to his grey hairs.

McCoy wasn’t a fool, just because he wasn’t in space anymore didn’t mean that it was any less dangerous. Or even that he stopped worrying about the disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence. If anything there were times when he worried more because he wasn’t out there to talk certain captains down from terrible or no good ideas, to patch them up later and yes, even to pull some sort of miracle out of his ass. There were even times when he was walking from the hospital to campus when he caught himself staring up at the sky and wondering what he was missing out on stuck on the ground all these years. McCoy would certainly never admit that he sometimes found himself missing the stars or actually looking forward to getting back out there.

And yet that was where he was headed. After six months spent fighting for the curriculum overhaul, McCoy was taking his first rotation of residents to the USS Republic. For three years he had been verbal and in a position where people had to listen about how the Academy could better produce medical officers fully capable to serve in the black. Hell, what granted him any sort of grace during the Narada incident was not the additional training he received courtesy of the Medical Academy, but rather his time spent running the Emergency Department at Grady. So after nearly 15 years of bitching about the training program, he was finally going to show them how it ought to be done.

Or he would if the bureaucratic side of the Admiralty didn’t like to rear its ugly head to remind him who was really running the show and just how little power he had if he wasn’t given it. Even if the summons was from Admiral Pike, three days before the shuttle would send them up to the USS Republic he knew it had to be more of the same bullshit peacocking.

“You requested my presence, sir?” Regardless of who it was, McCoy would have still found himself unwilling to hide his annoyance over the circumstance. At least with Pike there was less of a chance of a dress down about his attitude, which at this point wasn’t going to change a damn. They all knew that, but they still made the motions to pretend it might.

The admiral, not truly old by modern standards, turned from the bookshelf and walked surely toward his desk with the aid of a cane. It was nothing short of a miracle that he walked at all, and Jim would have argued that was all the doing Doctor Leonard H. McCoy - maker of miracles. Of course McCoy knew that it wasn’t so much a miracle but rather a yearlong neurosurgery fellowship where he barely saw his home or his beautiful daughter, but results were results.

Pike sat stiffly in the chair behind his desk and motioned for McCoy to sit across from him. He didn’t like the silence that hung between them. Really, he didn’t like the way that Pike was looking at him. He damn well knew that look. It was the same look that he gave families when a patient hadn’t made it through the surgery or something had gone wrong.

“If this is about my program…” And deep down he knew it wasn’t because Pike wouldn’t be looking at him like that if it were about his residency program. But if it wasn’t about the program there was only one other thing it could be about.

Pike put his hand up to stop McCoy from continuing down the wrong path. At least the admiral wasn’t going to make him play guessing games. “Leonard,” he started and McCoy instantly tensed. If he was using his name rather than a title it was going to be bad. Or rather it was going to be personal. “I have been asked to inform you that we have lost contact with Enterprise. The final transmissions cite an encounter with a small Romulan armada. And those were sent over a week ago.”

There was likely more to say, but McCoy had never exactly been a man for letting others have their piece, not when he had an opinion to weigh in on the situation and he certainly had one about this.

“What do you mean you lost Enterprise? With all due respect, how do you lose the god damn flagship?” He pushed out of the chair, his mind reeling in a hundred different directions. McCoy was clearly emotionally compromised, but then again he wasn’t in charge of a ship, so he could be compromised however he damn well saw fit. ”Good god, man!”

Christopher Pike might have been guaranteed a lifetime of desk jobs after the Narada incident, but he was by no means soft. “McCoy sit down and shut up.” The words rang clear draining McCoy of all his righteous anger and causing him fall back into the chair. “Our closet ships with long range sensors have been scanning the area for Enterprise, but there is a concentrated number of Romulan ships and without a confirmed reading, the Admiralty deems it too much of a risk to simply go in blind.”

Well over a decade later the devastation of the Narada incident still rippled throughout the entire Federation. Jim had always said it made the Admiralty stupid, and McCoy felt there was something to be said about a bit of caution. It had been one of the many things they disagreed over and often bickered about when there was nothing better to do. But sitting there on the other end of it, well, maybe Jim was right. (Although fuck if McCoy was going to let him know that.)

McCoy swallowed the lump in his throat, not sure how he should feel or what he should allow Pike to see. So, he did his best to not to be the helpless patient receiving the bad news - not nearly as practiced as skill, but if he looked at this like a medical case maybe he could keep his cards close. “Is there an intention of letting me know this information, sir?”

There was a pregnant pause between the two of them. Pike was starring him down with a looked that said ‘I see through your façade.’ And while he might have, Pike was gracious enough to let him keep it. “I wanted to make sure that in light of this news you are still capable to take on your upcoming assignment.”

He took a deep breath, in through his nose, out through his mouth. This was what happened - Starfleet made widows and widowers. And to think he had thought receiving the divorce papers for the second time had been the worst thing that could possibly happen between the two of them, but Jim Kirk was still legally his spouse. And that also made him the person responsible for telling Winona Kirk. However, that was his personal life. His professional one would have to continue on. Just because Jim Kirk and a whole damn ship was missing didn’t mean that Starfleet no longer needed better-trained medical staff. If anything this was just proof that they probably needed them even more because who knew what was going on out there if the crew was capable of handling the situation.

“To the job, sir.” So, it was with a heavy heart full of uncertainly that Leonard McCoy would return to the black.

Atlanta - Summer 2269
After being run out of this city McCoy never thought he would be working here again. (Or even that Grady would respectfully request an hour or two of his ‘valuable time’ to give a lecture to the residents or even call him for a handful of consults.) But then again he never anticipated a future in which he took orders and assignments from Starfleet, or one in which he was something of a hero in the eyes of many. So, when the Academy told him he was taking a group of medical students on temporary assignment to the CDC in Atlanta he grumbled to himself and started packing. It wasn’t like he really had much of a choice in the matter. At least the labs he would have access to in Atlanta had the equipment and safety protocols in place for him to start the final testing phase on the cure that he was all but sure he found.

Still, it was strange to be back here, stranger still to be making the commute from the McCoy homestead in Chattahoochee Hills to Atlanta each day that he had decades ago. He could have been put up in Starfleet housing in the city, but this way he had his work, could teach his students and then not have to worry about accidentally bumping into or hearing about Jocelyn or Clay outside of that because the Treadways were something of a big deal around Atlanta. And to their story McCoy was the funny little detour in their epic romance that breed a beautiful child and not much else.

And he couldn’t really be bitter about the whole thing. He and Jocelyn might have a world of differences between the two of them, but they had both let go of that anger a long time ago. Besides, the best thing that happened to him was his little girl and that was due in large part to all of the sacrifices that Jocelyn was able to make when he would not.

Try as he might to avoid it, it was only a matter of time before he was invited over for Sunday dinner. His response was playfully, “As long as Joce isn’t cooking,” because he couldn’t just turn it down.

The dinner that followed wasn’t just civil, but outright pleasant once Clay truly understood that McCoy wasn’t looking to get Jocelyn back, not even a little. Yet the food and the conversation sated, but never filled him. However, McCoy had been something of a starving man for over a year now, so he took what they could offer.

“So, what is the deal with you and Jim, anyway?” It was a fair question, even from Jocelyn who might not have a say in his love or sex life anymore, but would like to see him happy. A thought which was sometimes difficult for McCoy to swallow, but just because they weren’t in love anymore, didn’t mean they couldn’t still love each other. After all, they did have a common bond in Joanna and while not enough to maintain a marriage, that and some time was more than enough to make them friends.

Still, it wasn’t exactly a topic he wanted to broach. He might have tried to describe his relationship with Jim in vague terms to others, but there was something profoundly different in telling his ex-wife the truth of how bad things might actually be. “We’re giving each other some time,” was the best answer he could offer.

Whether it was his tone or the scary possibility that she still knew him better than he anticipated, Jocelyn didn’t press for more details than that. “Does this giving of time allow you to have dinner with a lovely lady named Nancy?”

McCoy raised an eyebrow that caused her to laugh - and he couldn’t remember the last time he heard her laugh like that when they were together. He also couldn’t remember the last time he made Jim laugh with such carefree mirth even if it was at his expense. And that just made him realize how much of a lost case he actually was.

So he knew what he had to do. “I would love to meet Nancy,” he said.

Even if the first blind date he went on was something of a disaster, this one felt like it was starting out on the right foot. Nancy had just moved to Atlanta taking a job in the department of public health. She knew who Doctor Leonard McCoy was and therefore she knew that whatever happened between them was temporary and McCoy needed temporary.

The most McCoy hoped for was to not make a fool of himself again. He certainly didn’t expect to find Miss Nancy Carter quite likeable. It was that certain spark in her eye and the thoughtful questions about his research with just a hint of silent cheerleading that made it feel like they had done this before.

One dinner became lunch two days later and then catching a Braves game on Saturday. In a strange way Atlanta, of all the god-awful cities in the universe, started to feel just a little more like home again. Then it was the leap of taking her back to his house a few days later.

“So, this is the great McCoy homestead,” she said falling back onto the porch swing. “Can’t see why Jocelyn wouldn’t have wanted to live out here.”

The comment was harmless and surely not intended to put a smile on his face, but it did. She fit into this place in a similar way that Jim had all of those years before. Only she didn’t move to rewrite his history. No, Nancy wasn’t looking to conquer anything. Instead she learned the pieces of him he was willing to share and accepted them as best she could. From there her only intention was to create her own little memories to add to this place if he allowed her the grace of movement.

And they did make memories. Nothing quite so epic, but like most things in life Leonard McCoy was a good twenty to thirty years too late for a picturesque summer romance, but he didn’t question it. He just found joy in the way two hot and sticky bodies fell into each other under the bright Georgia stars.

McCoy and Nancy spent their time together in an effortless ways between labs, medical students and public policy. Neither made any great effort to change whatever course they were on, but instead discovered that on their paths there was room for a companion. They didn’t pretend that what they had was forever. Rather they joked about a clichéd romance that might be the plot of some movie or paperback romance. The two were able to talk about things - the elephant that was Jim Kirk included - and that was when he knew he was finally back on the horse again. (And that maybe it was going to be okay.)

However, eventually the summer would come to an end.

What he didn’t say was ‘you should come back to San Francisco,’ but rather, “We ship out tomorrow.” Granted a cross-country romance wasn’t exactly distance given how far the world as they knew it reached, but it had never been about physical distance for McCoy.

She smiled, a sad sort of smile that made her beautiful. “I’ll miss you,” she said because it was all she could say. McCoy looked at their hands still intertwined - hers were soft hands. But there was Nancy was looking at him, like he was something to be waited for. They didn’t promise to write or keep in touch. It was just a long embrace before he watched her walk away.

McCoy was back in San Francisco for no more than twelve hours when his PADD was bombarded with messages from Enterprise, which apparently was not only just back in the quadrant, but was also in range for live communications. Not one to be impulsive McCoy spent the better part of the next three days weighing the consequences of calling and not calling Jim while sorting through his new students’ histories.

It was over a year now, they were talking, and they were both dating or at least having sex with other people. Or whatever Jim was doing or claiming to be doing. McCoy should have been able to at least look the other man in the eye. Even if he hadn’t looked him in the eye since before they had almost getting divorced sex.

And how that day had seemed to haunt him for the past year. Maybe it was misplaced nostalgia, but sometimes McCoy swore he could still remember how Jim felt under his fingertips. Even with two new women since Jim, whatever mental ghost remained of Jim’s presence sang out the loudest. But that was Jim right down to his core, unable to be ignored even when he wasn’t there.

So, he wasn’t entirely surprised when halfway through the files Jim’s face popped up on the screen posted on the wall. Without thought he opened the line of communication.

“You know, Reynolds is not at all how I imagined her.” Enterprise was easily a few light years away, but somehow with them both in their too large assigned quarters it almost felt too close.

McCoy shook his head, rolling his eyes because that was what he did. “Why have you been annoying my assistant?” He crossed his arms over his chest, challenging the tired looking man on the other end of the line.

“Because someone doesn’t stick to his schedule ever. You know Chapel never would have allowed that.” And McCoy nearly smiled at the thought because his head nurse (now studying to become a doctor in her own right) was about the only person who could get him to leave medbay and stay gone during his shifts off.

He could have commented on that, but the unspoken issue at hand was far more interesting. “God, Jim, do you have nothing better to do then hack my schedule?”

To which the reply was a carefree sort of laughter that McCoy couldn’t remember the last time he heard, but that was how it worked - you never thought the last time was going to be the last time until it didn’t come again. So, he made a point to remember this one just in case.

“Maybe I just like that look on your face when I do,” said Jim. And while McCoy couldn’t see his own expression at the moment he knew it was a mix between mildly pissed off and this better lead to something good or you’re never going to hear the end of it. And Jim always ignored it in order to get to what he actually wanted to talk about. “So, Atlanta, huh?”

The three words that barely made a sentence was Jim trying to sound casual, but they had known each other too long to not hear everything that wasn’t captured in the limitations of human speech. However, that didn’t mean that McCoy was willing to just answer the question until Jim was ready to partially ask.

“Yes, Jim, I just go back from Atlanta with a group of students in tow.” It was the same sort of tone he might have used on Joanna when she was younger responding to endless questions about what dad was doing out in space. “It was just thrilling.”

Jim paused a moment, squinting at McCoy before sitting up a bit straighter at his desk. “Break any hearts while you were there?”

And there it was, that question McCoy wasn’t sure he wanted to be asked because it was still unclear as to what they were to each other anymore. On his part, it took him the span of ten seconds to decide that it was best for the kid to hear the truth from him because there was no doubt in McCoy’s mind that if Jim wanted to know he would work his way through the scuttlebutt until he found what his instinct knew was out there. “I did meet a lovely woman, through Jocelyn no less, she works in the department of public health.”

With no immediate sign of protest, McCoy proceeded to tell Jim all about Nancy Carter, just like it might have been any other time. The difference was that when his story was over and done there would be no reclaiming and reconnection between the two of them. Instead, the silence lingered between them - not outright uncomfortable, but not full of that old familiarity. They were each lost in their own thoughts, waiting for the other to speak first.

“It was harder than I thought it would be to leave her.”

McCoy barely realized he spoke that out loud until Jim responded to it with a simple: “I know.” And those words rang out with such clarity, it made McCoy pause and realize exactly what they were talking about now.

His shoulders dropped unsure what to make of that admittance especially when he meant that it was hard to have to go back to spending each night alone. People might have filled his bed for short periods at a time, but it wasn’t the same of knowing Jim would be in their bed when he got home.

“Well, if it’s any consolation,” Jim started causing McCoy to look up and meet the man on the comm., “It’s a lot harder to be the one who stays behind." And if the words didn’t jar, the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes certainly did. “I made my whole life here, and now everyone I know is gone off to better things.”

It was another long moment of the two just staring at each other, taking in each nuance, wishing there was a tactile supplement to this conversation, but for all the leaps and bounds made in science that wasn’t one of them. And maybe it was better to have to muddle through in words and not retreat to the safety of touch. Either way, it was still far too honest an admission.

Before McCoy could think any better of it, the words “I love you” slipped from his lips like some kind of apology.

“I lov-”

“No.” His voice was gentle, needing to stop Jim before he said it too. “Not yet.” Right now he just wanted to hold on that fragile hope to help him through this phase of his life. It was just loneliness right now, he wasn’t ready to put his heart back on the line. “Not yet, Jim.”

Republic - July 2272
Three weeks. It had been over three weeks and there was still no word of Enterprise, just insignificant pieces of her scattered about the Romulan Neutral Zone and trails that just went cold. Pike sent McCoy updates when he could, but they were far and in between and never what McCoy wanted or needed to hear.

It was three weeks, one day and about six hours before he received a communication that Enterprise had been found. The communication came with an air of a relief that was immediately kicked out from under him when he read that while a barely functioning Enterprise was being hauled to space dock for repairs (if not retirement) that one shuttle pod had not been recovered.

McCoy didn’t have to keep reading to know who had been on that shuttle pod - there was only one idiot who would have gone off with a promise to save the ship and crew and actually do so.

It would be another fourteen hours and twenty-three minutes before he received the official data packet from Starfleet Command informing him that Captain James T. Kirk was classified missing in action. It spoke of the hero who risked everything for his crew and for what Starfleet stood for. And of course they were every sorry for his loss.

(It would be another twenty-eight hours before he received a letter he never wanted to receive. The other was still just under six days away.)

He almost wanted to laugh at the canned spouse missing in action communication because none of that described Jim. Sure, he risked his life but it wasn’t because he was the perfect officer that Starfleet always wanted him to be. No, Jim risked everything because despite the bravado, his heart was always a little too big and he did what he needed to protect his family.

What followed was the most steadfast textbook case of denial that anyone could see. McCoy ignored the knowing looks and empty condolences the crew on board Republic gave him, ignored that way his second batch of residents acted like he might burst at any given moment. But he wasn’t going to break because he knew they were wrong.

Leonard McCoy had known it from the moment he found himself in love with Jim Kirk. No matter what the circumstance, the bastard was going to outlive him or bleed out on his table. That was how the universe worked for men like McCoy.

Jim missing in action right now was just that - Jim missing in action, already fighting his way back (because he had warned him) or waiting for his crew (his real crew) to pull together some spectacular rescue.

And it was then that McCoy knew that he was going to take on the charge that Jim had unknowingly left for him.

McCoy’s Inbox - July 2272
From: Carter, Nancy
Sent: 12.7.2272 21:03 FST
To: McCoy, Leonard LCDR
Subject: my condolences

Dear Leonard,

Reports are already all over the nets about the great James T. Kirk. If memory serves this is even more attention than he got after he saved us the first time around, but that is so like a military organization to prefer their heroes dead. I am sure I don’t have to say this, but I am not by any means making light of this matter.

It is a shame that Enterprise was never able to deliver the second batch of the Topaline Sickness vaccine to Angel One. I reviewed the reports and your vaccine really helped that colony prosper. More so, in overseeing one of the labs where the vaccine was replicated, I know a great deal of work went into the production and it’s a shame that without the delivery more people might die needlessly.

And look, here I am rambling on about vaccines and credits when there are far more important matters at hand. You are in my thoughts, Leonard. Should there be anything you need, please just let me know. I promise to not tell a word of it to Jocelyn either.

Warmly,
Nancy

Republic - July 2272
While it didn’t happen as soon as he would have liked, it didn’t take that long to secure a live feed with the only other person in universe who might understand his approach to the current situation. Never in his life did McCoy think he would find any sort of comfort in seeing Spock on the other side of the viewer screen, but McCoy’s life seemed to exist in the planes of the improbable anyway.

McCoy didn’t give Spock anymore time than his customary greeting before he jumped right into the issue at hand. “I don’t think he’s dead.”

“While not entirely logical, I am inclined to agree with you.” Spock regarded him with a critical eye and if that wasn’t the most unnerving thing he had ever encountered he wasn’t sure what else could be. “Doctor, there is no need to be anxious to ask me what you are about to as you already know my answer. Nyota and I have placed our request to rejoin Intrepid as soon as possible.”

“But what about Grayson?” (And it was only then that he thought of Carol and David Marcus somewhere in the world trying to make sense of the news. Would she tell him now? And what good would it do another Kirk offspring to have a dead father’s legacy to worry about…but no he wasn’t dead, couldn’t be dead.)

“We are leaving him in the capable hands of Ambassador Selek until Starfleet is able to process our request to equip exploration class ships to accommodate families.”

McCoy nodded. Perhaps at another time (and certainly with Jim) there might have been some banter over them all having families of some sort to watch over - families who might one day be the next generation taking on the stars.

However, the doctor had a plan he needed to put in action and if all the bullshit he had to go through to get some residents aboard Republic was bad, he had no illusion that it would be any easier to see if he could get them posted to Intrepid for the next set of rotations.

Enterprise - June 2272
Sometimes what the crew didn’t know couldn’t hurt them. Or at least it wouldn’t make things any worse, because life support running out would kill them whether they knew it or not. However, until that point it was better to have everyone focused on his or her task and remain unaware of the clock slowly ticking down in the captain’s head. Only the senior officers needed to know and even then only the ones that Jim felt could handle the news knew how bad things really were.

Jim spent majority of his waking hours down in engineering because he wasn’t too helpful anywhere else. His shirt may have been gold, but he could have easily worn a red shirt and gone on to be just as great. He might not have had the natural talent with machines like Scotty did, but he did have a certain fluency and comprehension of how things worked in general that surprised many of the ensigns.

There was also a sort of Zen in being able to crawl through the Jeffries tubes and tinker with pieces of his girl. And when his hands were preoccupied it gave that supposedly genius brain of his time to synthesize all the information swirling about and uncover the improbable. Sometimes it happened just before he fell asleep or just when he was waking up, certainly a few times during sex, but largely when his was physically engaged in some simple activity. It wasn’t an insult to anyone. It was just how the mind of James T. Kirk worked racing through hundreds of seemingly unconnected things at once until something fell into place.

What he was doing then, checking wire connectivity as they worked to reroute systems from the damaged decks, would have been just the ticket if his brain weren’t already muddled with lack of sleep and too much stress. Too many lives were on his shoulders and this time he was honestly afraid he wasn’t going to find the solution.

When he was forced to return to his quarters to keep his uncompassionate CMO appeased he didn’t sleep. Instead he spent the time reviewing specs and fiddling with the system on the back end. It had been all sorts of childish pranks in the hopes maybe if he altered the codes to boost the receiving signal not only would their reach be extend, but it would also clog up any navigational system of passing ships within range. Not that he had any luck, but it was worth a shot.

“Scotty,” he shouted down the walkway, “I think I might have something here.”

Far from the person to ask how high when told to jump, after nearly fifteen years Scotty knew Jim well enough to understand that this something was probably not too far off from the solution they were all desperately searching for.

It took Scotty a few minutes to crawl into the space where Jim had dutifully been working away. “Alright, captain, what did you find today?”

“I think that coil is bad, but I’m not sure what these readings mean.” Jim shifted so he could hand Scotty the scanner to look at.

Scotty glanced at the screen, tapping at it a few times to pull up other reports to compare the data against. It couldn’t have been more than ninety seconds before a huge grin fell across his face. “Oh laddie, I could kiss you.” It was all he could do to contain his excitement, which given the fact that any grand gestures or true exuberance would probably end with Jim hit in the face was a good thing. “This will work beautifully, just divert from the damaged parts, stop them from gumming up the works all together and we might be able to get some more time from the girl yet.”

Only Jim wasn’t fully listening to Scotty anymore. However, he had spent years training any obvious distraction from his face and really only an expert in Jim (namely Bones, sometimes Spock and quite surely Uhura) could tell that he wasn’t actually paying attention. “Something’s not right,” he said when it became clear that Scotty was waiting for some sort of response from him.

“Well, no, captain, that coil there is blown, but that’s actually a good thing because if we duplicate that with those circuits…”

Jim shook his head, not bothering to let Scotty finish because he was fixated on this point now and the talk about coils wasn’t important. “Not with the circuits, with this whole thing…it’s just not adding up.” Although he was being disturbingly vague about it, but that was because the pieces were still falling into place even as he spoke.

“Captain?”

“I mean we’ve been patrolling this area for years now. The last time we came across a Romulan vessel they weren’t exactly friendly, but they weren’t lining up to slice me open and take my remains back as some great spoil of war.” Which was a win in the book of Jim Kirk, especially when he didn’t trust the current CMO as much as he trusted Enterprise’s prior, but that level of trust was never something he imagined he could replicated. “Things have been pretty good with the Romulans for a while. There has to be something else, something gumming up the works, causing trouble.” Jim shifted toward the small opening to crawl back out. “If you don’t need me here anymore, I should head back up to the bridge.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. He was the one running the show, so he didn’t need permission from his officers, but often asked in a show of respect for them and what they did. After all a captain was only as good as his crew.

Jim didn’t exactly race through the corridors because that certainly would have cased a scene, but he didn’t linger to converse with the passing crewmembers like he usually might have. And really no one would hold it against him, they may not have known, but they probably had a good idea of the dire straights Enterprise was in.

“O’Haggerty!” Jim shouted as he stepped onto the bridge. “I need you to start digging through subspace transmissions leading up to the attack for unfamiliar encryptions.”

“Captain?” The lieutenant slid out from under the console to gape openly at the request. “I had thought priority was to get basic communications systems back online?”

“The sooner we get the systems up and running the better, but I have a hunch on this one. Assign Krebbs to pick through our recordings.” Jim walked over the communications station, some small part wishing that he had Uhura’s aural sensitivity to do this, but Krebbs was nearly as good.

O’Haggerty pushed himself to standing, wanting to be able to look Jim in the eye as they had this conversation. “Captain, the only ships in range have been Romulan. I doubt anything interesting would show up.” Unlike everyone else on the bridge watching them, he knew exactly how bad things were and that was exactly what he was saying without words. Well, it was probably more along the lines of ‘respectfully you have lost your mind and we don’t have the time or energy to placate your whims.’

But Jim ignored that because even if they were whims (which this certainly was not), they were his orders. “Then prove me wrong, lieutenant.”

He stood there until he heard the ‘Aye, Sir’ and headed back into his ready room to start reviewing some of the recordings himself. Despite being able to speak a handful of different languages, Jim had never cared enough to really delve too deeply into the world of linguistics. Still he could spend a few hours seeing if he could find anything. And if not, well, it was just time he should have been sleeping anyway.

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