Story [Star Trek 2009] Among the Stars (Kirk, Bones, OCs, more) Chapter Seven: 2/1

Author: NYCitygurl
Title: Among the Stars
Timeframe: Several decades after the movie
Characters: Kirk, Bones, OCs
Summary: Georgiana Kirk always had her feet planted firmly on the ground ... until now.
Notes: I've been developing this story for about a year now. I'm not finished writing, but if I keep trying to wait until I'm done to post, I'll never finish Hopefully posting will give me the motivation to keep writing!

I plan to update about once a week (yeah, we'll see how that goes). If anyone wants PMs, let me know!


Among the Stars

Chapter One


Georgiana Kirk did not like the snow.

It was a rare problem at the Starfleet Academy; one of the great things about being in California was that the weather was generally good (or at least, not too cold). So when the San Francisco area did get hit, everything shut down.

Everything except the hospital.

George hurried across campus, shivering. She had tied her long, brown hair back before she left, so it almost managed to not blow in her face. Muttering words she shouldn’t know under her breath, George rushed into Starfleet’s hospital, basking in the sudden warmth.

She hurried past the nurse’s station on the first floor, waving her ID badge as she unwound her scarf. She was late, and she was going to hear about it.

She reached her floor and ducked into the main office, hoping to avoid notice.

“Prompt as usual, Georgiana.”

George sighed and flopped into a chair. “Sorry,” she said with a blush. “The weather is miserable. Normal people are staying inside.” She gave the room’s other occupant a hopeful look. “You know, some people would give a poor intern a break and not make her go outside . . .”

“Sorry, kid. Hospitals are open no matter the weather. It’s good practice.”

“I’m suddenly reconsidering my chosen profession.”

“What, and after I pulled so many strings to get you this amazing internship?”

George laughed. “Uncle Leo, you practically own this place.”

Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy pulled himself to his feet. “If you were anyone else, George, Starfleet wouldn’t let you near its hospital unless you joined up.”

“I know.” There were many downsides to being the daughter of Starfleet’s most famous admiral, but this wasn’t one of them.

A gentle shove from her godfather got George out the door, and she quickly scrubbed up and rejoined him. She knew she was lucky—lucky to be living on base without joining the academy; lucky to be doing an honest-to-goodness internship before she’d even started medical school.

Georgiana Kirk was a very privileged girl, but there were days she would trade it all.

***

It was a long, tiring day before George got back home. As was her custom, she stood under the hot shower, washing the day away. She always made sure to scrub her hands—over and over—before she left the hospital, but after being around sick and injured people all day, she never felt truly clean without a shower.

When she was finally clean and in warm pajamas, she let herself check the comm for messages.

Nothing.

Again.

George sighed, frustration and loneliness coloring her pretty face.

She hadn’t wanted to come back to Starfleet—had, in fact, managed to barely be here over the last few years—but she hadn’t really had a choice. Now that she and her friends had graduated college, everyone was heading off in different directions. She hadn’t had anyone’s home to crash at like over the winter holidays, and most camps didn’t need extra staff this time of year, when the kids were in school.

Plus, this internship was a great honor. As Bones had said, Starfleet didn’t let just anyone work for them, especially someone who didn’t even start med school until fall.

Why had she put off her acceptance for a year?

Oh, right, because she’d wanted a little quality time with him.

But he had gotten called away on some emergency or another. He said that he would only be gone a couple of weeks, but weeks had turned into months. He wasn’t back, and he barely ever called.

At 23, she knew she should stop being so surprised, but for some reason, she still wanted his attention.

James Tiberius Kirk’s daughter spent a lot of time wishing she was someone else.


***


James Tiberius Kirk was, at that moment, tugging at his collar and throwing glares at his half-Vulcan friend.

“Remember when I was your commanding officer?” he muttered.

“Yes, of course. We worked together for many years; I am not so old that I am likely to forget such an experience.”

Kirk continued to glare, though Spock pretended not to notice.

Nyota, standing on his other side, grabbed his wrist. “Stop fidgeting,” she whispered.

He turned his patented Jim Kirk glare on her. “I’m. Bored.”

“You could at least try to act like a polite, high-ranking member of Starfleet.”

“I could. But I’m not going to.”

Nyota rolled her eyes, and Kirk was pleased to see that after all their decades of friendship, he could still manage to irritate her.

“If you don’t behave, I will tie you to a chair and make you listen to Nihora practice violin for an hour.”

Kirk sobered. Spock and Nyota’s middle child was a gem, but her violin skills could definitely use some improvement. Knowing Nyota wasn’t above coming through on that threat, he dropped his hand and pretended to pay attention to the Vulcan Elder’s speech.

It wasn’t just that he had no patience for ceremonies. He was supposed to be back on Earth weeks ago. That trouble in the Ihoorian Sector had gone on a lot longer than he’d planned. Then there was the stopover on Crystannia to deal with negotiations that apparently no one else could handle. And since he was in the area, he couldn’t not take a side-trip to New Vulcan to see Spock and Nyota, and Sarek had gotten him to agree to stay and attend this ceremony for . . . well, he wasn’t exactly sure.

Meanwhile, George was at the Starfleet Academy because he’d promised to spend some time with her. It had taken three weeks before he’d been called away the first time. In the six months she’d been in San Francisco, he’d been around for less than two months.

No wonder she resented him.

No more, he silently promised himself and his daughter. I’ll take a leave of absence for a few months, just until she heads off to Johns Hopkins.

He had missed too much of his daughter’s life. Hell, he’d missed her college graduation—Bones had gone in his stead. If Kirk couldn’t find more time to spend with George, she would take off one day and not come back.

Is it bad of me to say that I clapped like a little girl and let out an ear shrieking squee when I saw this up? Full length Trek fic from you? Yep, the reaction was warranted.

And its future-fic, at that! Future-fic with kids. I am already enjoying this story so very much.

To begin with, Georgiana is a treat! I love that she's into medical, and she's gifted, at that.


At 23, she knew she should stop being so surprised, but for some reason, she still wanted his attention.

James Tiberius Kirk?s daughter spent a lot of time wishing she was someone else.

And not all is well.

It was heartbreaking to see her so close to McCoy, rather than her father - I can't wait for some sense smacking on McCoy's part to Kirk. And to have some of Kirk's father failing explained.



And then, some things never change:

James Tiberius Kirk was, at that moment, tugging at his collar and throwing glares at his half-Vulcan friend.

?Remember when I was your commanding officer?? he muttered.

?Yes, of course. We worked together for many years; I am not so old that I am likely to forget such an experience.?

. . . just, so much love for these two. And that passage in particular.

And wedded parental Spock/Nyota for the ever loving win!


It wasn?t just that he had no patience for ceremonies. He was supposed to be back on Earth weeks ago. That trouble in the Ihoorian Sector had gone on a lot longer than he?d planned. Then there was the stopover on Crystannia to deal with negotiations that apparently no one else could handle. And since he was in the area, he couldn?t not take a side-trip to New Vulcan to see Spock and Nyota, and Sarek had gotten him to agree to stay and attend this ceremony for . . . well, he wasn?t exactly sure.

But of course. That passage was just so perfectly Kirk.



He had missed too much of his daughter?s life. Hell, he?d missed her college graduation?Bones had gone in his stead. If Kirk couldn?t find more time to spend with George, she would take off one day and not come back.

Ack. Not good.


Here's to hoping that things work out for the best. I can't wait to see where you take this.



~MJ

Mira: I'm glad you're pleased to see it! I hope it lives up to your expectations I'm glad you like George! She's been a lot of fun to write

Yeah, George and her dad don't have the best relationship, though I'll avoid saying why now so I don't give anything away But Kirk isn't all bad I loved writing the banter




Chapter Two


George’s idea of a good time wasn’t sitting around with her father’s cronies, but she generally had no choice. She had spent a lot of time avoiding the academy, so she didn’t have any friends her age.

Which meant that, when she was visiting and her father wasn’t there (which was often), she had two choices: sit at home by herself or join the former senior staff of the Enterprise for poker night.

George was bored enough (and lonely enough—the wind was driving her mad) to try to put a game together, but she couldn’t find anyone free—a somewhat rare event.

A smart girl, especially one who couldn’t stand the weather, would have stayed at home—particularly after such a trying day—but George found that tonight, she couldn’t take the melancholy by herself, so she pulled herself out of her pajamas, made herself somewhat presentable, and headed out.

Alcohol was forbidden on Starfleet grounds, but George figured she could find a bar somewhere in the city to keep her occupied. She took the hovercar—a gift from her father after her high school graduation (an event he had missed)—and headed out into the cold.

She wasn’t sure what exactly she was looking for. She didn’t want unfamiliar company, not tonight; she just wanted a distraction, something to get her away from Starfleet.

And, it turned out, she chose the wrong place.

She knew, when she saw the uniforms, that she should have left the bar as quickly as she’d entered. But she didn’t want to walk back out in the cold without some fortification, so she headed to the bar and ordered whatever their special was, and make it a double.

She tossed back the drink and managed to keep herself from choking as it went down (Jim Kirk’s daughter would never embarrass herself like that). The bartender gave her a surprised look but a nod of respect and handed her another drink—this one tall and green and unfamiliar. George decided to take her time, wondering exactly how long it would take for the alcohol to sink in.

“Hey, beautiful.”

It took her a minute to realize the voice was talking to her, but no time at all to know she didn’t want anything to do with the man in Starfleet uniform sliding onto the stool next to her. She tossed back the contents of the tube, hoping that if she ignored him, she would go away.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked, scooting closer so they his knees bumped against her leg.

She twisted away. “No,” she said shortly.

“Aww, c’mon, baby,” he wheedled.

George could handle herself—her father had made sure of that—but the last thing she wanted was a scene.

Then maybe you should have picked a better bar, George, she told herself.

She was about to tell the guy to get lost when someone beat her to it.

“I don’t think the lady wants your company.”


***


Daken Finn was not having a good day.

First, there was that surprise inspection—at 5 in the bloody morning. Then he’d run off without his gloves and spent the day cursing the fact that he didn’t have time to run home and get them. And he was pretty sure he’d flunked his linguistics exam.

So when his roommate had not-so-gently suggested that they spend their evening in the city, Daken took one look at the pile of homework waiting for him and agreed.

Daken and Orion headed straight to Flo’s. It wasn’t an exclusively Starfleet hangout, but the cadets were regulars, and Flo—an ex-Starfleet man himself—appreciated their business (and had no trouble keeping them in line).

Orion headed straight for two pretty girls, but Daken wanted a couple shots in him before he talked to anyone. Flo, who was working the bar, nodded in recognition when Daken grabbed a stool.

“Romulan fuzz,” Daken ordered.

Flo handed him the shot without comment, and the second, but the third arrived with a small bowl of pretzels. Daken glared, but the burly bartender ignored him.

Daken dutifully munched on the pretzels and looked around, searching for Orion. His blue-skinned friend already had two girls on his lap and another hanging on his neck. Daken rolled his eyes, but he didn’t really mind that girls gravitated toward Orion—as the Ithian’s best friend, Daken could usually score a few kisses from the hangers-on.

Orion was too absorbed to watch the door, but Daken happened to be glancing in that direction when his least-favorite person walked in.

Daken spun around on his stool, hoping the other cadet didn’t notice him. He wasn’t in the mood to fight with the blockhead, and Flo wouldn’t tolerate it. Besides, pretzels or no pretzels, Daken was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol, and he knew he probably couldn’t hold his own.

Luckily for Daken, Cadet Bandel either didn’t see him or chose to ignore him, even as he sat a few stools down. Daken glanced in his direction and, for the first time, noticed the brunette Bandel slid in next to. She was pretty, Daken thought, and not in uniform. He’d never seen her before.

“Hey, beautiful. Can I buy you a drink?” he heard Bandel say, smooth as a snake, and he watched as the girl—no, young woman; she had to be legal to be in here—turned her body away with a quick “No.”

“Aww, c’mon baby,” Bandel replied, and Daken stood up.

He gripped the bar to allow the dizziness to pass—was he drunk already?—and marched over there. He didn’t know the brunette, but it seemed that she felt the same why he did about Bandel.

He didn’t think about how inebriated he was, or that Flo could take care of Bandel if the woman didn’t want his attentions. Daken was suddenly itching for a fight.

He grabbed the other cadet’s shoulder and jerked him around. “I don’t think the lady wants your company.”

Bandel saw who had grabbed him and narrowed his eyes. “Stay out of this, Finn. It’s none of your business.”

“When you upset the lady, you made it my business.”

The brunette waved her hand. “Um, thanks, but I can handle this myself.”

Both cadets ignored her.

“You’d better leave,” Bandel said, not-so-gently shoving Daken.

Daken stumbled, but he caught himself on the edge of the bar. Somewhere in the back of his alcohol-soaked mind, he realized that he should have brought backup—Bandel had easily twice his muscle mass—but he was only fighting one man . . .

He shoved Bandel back and was luckily quick enough to dodge the returning blow. Bandel’s fist slammed into the bar, and all hell broke loose.

Daken felt himself being grabbed from behind and tossed in the general direction of the bar, which he slammed into with his face. He felt something painful and then realized that blood was starting to pour out his nose. He stumbled back to his feet, ready to take on Bandel’s friend, when the cadet was suddenly pounced to the floor by a blue man in a red cadet uniform—Orion, who must have seen the commotion and jumped into the fray.

The next thing he was aware of was a bellow of rage, and he was shoved back against the bar. Flo waded into the fight, picking Orion up and literally tossing him to the side. He grabbed Bandel’s friend and flung him away, too, before shoving Bandel after him.

“Don’t you dare fight in my bar!” he roared.

Daken felt it was best to stay put for the moment. He gently touched his nose, which was swelling; the blood hadn’t stopped. On the floor, Orion was groaning and clutching his head.

“Out of my bar, all of you! Now! And don’t think your commanding officers won’t be hearing about this!”

Daken stumbled to his feet and half-walked over to Orion. He grabbed his friend’s arm and pulled him up, but the moment he let go, Orion fell over again.

“Quite a mess ye’ve gotten yerself inta,” said a new voice, and Daken looked up into the face of—a Starfleet officer.

Great. Just great.

He glanced over to the woman at the bar who had been the excuse for this fight and heard her say, “I’ll have another drink.”

I LIKE Daken. A lot.

Actually, I liked the whole bar scene - it was very reminiscent of when Kirk met Nyota, and it really brought a smile to my face.

And then:


?Quite a mess ye?ve gotten yerself inta,? said a new voice, and Daken looked up into the face of?a Starfleet officer.

Great. Just great.

He glanced over to the woman at the bar who had been the excuse for this fight and heard her say, ?I?ll have another drink.?

Talk about the best first meeting ever.


Well done again, I can't wait for more!


~MJ

Mira: Thanks!! I like him, too The scene was based off of Kirk and Uhura's meeting, though it turns out ... a bit differently Thanks for reading!!



Chapter Three


George had no interest in the cadet’s attentions, but she had even less interest in men fighting over her, so the second cadet’s intervention just made her groan. She tried to protest that she was fine—really, please just go away—but both men ignored her in favor of using their fists.

George briefly considered jumping in and stopping them, but she had no wish to take a punch, and they were obviously past the listening stage. And besides, she reasoned when other cadets joined in, she couldn’t take them all.

If her mood had been better, George might have enjoyed having men fight over her, but this was so not the right night.

Or week. Or month, really, but who was counting?

George’s decision to stay put on her stool looked better and better when the bartender—who was, apparently, also the owner—waded in. The big man managed to separate them and stop the fight, for which George was grateful. She decided that it was past time to go when she heard someone say, “Quite a mess ye’ve gotten yerself inta.”

Oh no.

This night really couldn’t get worse. Of all the senior officers who could have walked into the bar at that moment, it had to be someone she knew. Someone she knew very well. And worse—someone who her father knew very well.

There was really only one way to handle this. George turned to the bartender and said, “I’ll have another drink.”

“What’s this, lass?” Scotty asked, and George swiveled back around and gave him a sheepish wave.

“Hey, Scotty,” she said, resigned to the fact that her father would find out about this.

The bartender had apparently decided that more alcohol was not what this situation needed, because he ignored her drink order and nodded respectfully. “Commander Scott, good to see you.”

Scotty gave a reply nod and said, “Flo, always a pleasure. Looks like ye’ve had some trouble.”

“Cadets.” Flo pointed at each of the four still-prone men in turn. “Disturbing the peace.”

“Not fer long.” The cadets were starting to clamber to their feet, each of them earning a glare from the senior officer. “You, you, you, and you,” he said, “are coming with me. And you,” he added, pointing to George.

“I’m good, thanks,” she replied, but a quick glare—and a look at the bartender that confirmed her suspicion that if she didn’t leave on her own, he’d kick her out after a word from Scotty—changed her mind. She slid off the stood, carefully set some coins on the bar, and silently followed him.

The cadets all walked with their heads down, ignoring her presence. Scotty was, for once, quiet, so George decided it would be in her best interest not to speak up.

As she walked beside him, Scotty asked quietly, “Are ye hurt, lass?”

George shook her head. “They didn’t touch me.”

“Fought over you, then, eh?”

“Something like that.”

Scotty nodded and, George noted thankfully, didn’t press the issue. She looked wistfully at her hovercar, but she knew she’d never be allowed to drive home. Scotty put out his hand, and she handed over the keys.

Scotty turned his attention to the four cadets. “Now, here’s what’s going ta happen,” he said sternly. “We’re headin’ back ta base, and the doc’s going ta look you over. And then we’re going right to yer commanding officer.”

The four cadets glanced at each other nervously but were smart enough not to protest.

Scotty looked at George. “I’ll just head home once we’re back at the academy,” she said quietly.

Scotty barked a laugh. “Oh no, lass. Don’t think yer getting’ off that easily. Yer goin’ to the doc, too.”

***

Daken sat quietly at the doctor not-so-gently probed his nose. “Broken,” the man pronounced succinctly.

Daken nodded to indicate he’d understood, but he didn’t protest the rough treatment. He knew this was only the beginning.

The doctor—McCoy, his jacket said—turned around and motioned to someone behind him. “George,” he called, and the young woman from the bar approached. “Come help me with this.”

The woman—George—didn’t protest. She also didn’t show any sign of recognition as she bent over Daken. “Broken nose?” she asked.

McCoy nodded. “I need you to give him a painkiller while I reset the bone.”

Daken squeezed his eyes closed so he wouldn’t have to watch. He felt a sharp pain in his neck, and then . . . nothing, blissfully.

“Numb him?” Daken heard the doctor ask.

“Yes. He’s good to go.”

Daken felt pressure in his nose, then the feeling of bandages being carefully placed over his skin. He opened his eyes to see George very close to him, finishing the job.

“Thanks,” he said.

She nodded. “I suppose I owe you thanks, too,” she said. “For coming to my rescue back there.”

Daken tried to smile, but it pulled at his face in ways he didn’t like, so he settled for a serious nod. “It was my honor.”

George snorted. “I can take care of myself, Cadet,” she said. “I didn’t need your help. You just made the whole thing worse—and got us all into trouble.”

Daken felt affronted. “Hey, lady, I was just trying to help you out.”

“I didn’t need any help,” she replied sharply.

“George,” the doctor said, walking back in. “I need you.”

With a turn of her heel, she was gone without a farewell.

Daken leaned back against the wall, starting to feel his head throb. He’d tried to help her out, and all he’d gotten was a broken nose and a lot of trouble.

He felt slightly better when a blue head poked around the door. “Doc been in?” Orion asked.

Daken nodded and instantly regretted it. “Yep, he and that brunette. That bastard Callahan broke my nose.”

Orion, who only appeared to be sporting a few bruises, winced in sympathy. “If it makes you feel better, Bandel’s got a concussion.”

“It does make me feel better, actually.”

Orion hopped up onto the bed and leaned back against the wall like Daken. “What happened back there, man?”

Daken shrugged. “Bandel went up to the girl—George, the doc called her—and starting laying it on. She didn’t want anything to do with him, but he wouldn’t take a hint.” Daken shrugged again. “So I slugged him.”

Orion snorted. “Nice.”

“Yeah. Not that she’s grateful or anything. So now we’re all in a lot of trouble for nothing.”

Orion waved his hand. “Not to worry, my friend. At least I got to beat on Callahan; that always gives me pleasure.”

Daken laughed until he realized it was making his head hurt worse, despite the pain meds.

Orion threw an arm around him. “C’mon, Dake. Time to face The Beast.”

And another brilliant update!

Surely George reminds me so much of Kirk that it hurts. And I love that Scotty was the one there to pick them all up after the fight. (You did a great job writing his accent into the dialogue, as well. That can be tricky to do! ) Although, so far it is sad to see that she seems to be closer with those of Kirk's crew rather than with Kirk himself. You are killing us by not answering the Questions about that.

And then, as always, Bones was a treat to read, stitching everyone up.

?I didn?t need any help,? she replied sharply.

?George,? the doctor said, walking back in. ?I need help.?

So very lovably in character.


And I am continuing to like Daken and his friend. I can't wait to see where you go with this.


~MJ

Mira: Thanks!! Glad you enjoyed Bones is always fun to write Yeah, George and her dad don't have a great relationship; she's definitely closer to Bones than she is to Jim. I'll answer questions soon




Chapter Four

George sat dutifully in Bones’s office, waiting for him to return. Scotty had already left—likely to wake the cadets’ commanding officer—and Bones was finishing with the last cadet. One broken nose, one concussion, and a lot of scrapes and bruises between the four of them, but George didn’t feel sorry for them.

Well, maybe a little. That one—Cadet Finn, by the looks of his chart—had jumped in to help her.

Or used her as an excuse to punch someone he didn’t like.

George looked up when her godfather walked in, but Bones didn’t say anything. He took a seat behind his desk and rubbed his temples.

“Uncle Leo—” George started, but he cut her off.

“What the hell did you think you were doing in there, George?” he said, anger coating his voice.

His tone set her off. “What do you mean, what was I doing? I wasn’t doing anything!”

“You—”

“I went in for a drink—which is allowed, by the way, since I’m legal—and I was having a nice time, all by myself, when one of those idiots decided that I wanted to be hit on.”

“He—”

“Then we were interrupted by Idiot Number Two, who decided to throw a punch in my honor. Their friends joined in, and here we are.” George shrugged, letting some of the anger drain out of her.

Bones, however, wasn’t done. “Damnit, George, I’m a doctor, not a—”

“Doctor?” George guessed, which prompted an eye roll.

“You sure are sassy this evening.”

“I’m in a bad mood. Being the cause of a bar fight, being dragged out of said bar by a friend of my father’s, and then being yelled at when I didn’t do anything wrong—none of that helped.”

Bones sighed and relaxed a little. “I’m sorry. You’re right. As mad as I am about you being in that situation, you are an adult.”

“Thank you,” George said, satisfied.

But Bones wasn’t done. “However, that doesn’t mean that you’re not still a little girl to us. We want to protect you—me, Scotty, your dad—”

“I don’t want to talk about Dad,” George snapped.

Bones seemed to decide that discretion was the better part of valor, because he chose a different track. “We’re just looking out for you.”

“Thank you,” George said. She could have gone on—she could have said that she was a big girl, that she didn’t need looking out for, that she had been incredibly embarrassed by the overprotectiveness—but adults didn’t complain like that, and she had just finished insisting that she was one.

Bones stood up and clapped her on the shoulder. “Why don’t you head home?” he suggested. “It’s getting late, and—”

He was interrupted by a shout from the hallway.

“Sounds like the big guy is here,” Bones said.


***

Cable Turin—commonly known to his cadets as The Beast—was not a man to be messed with.

He was tall, muscled, and imposing—he looked the part of a drill sergeant. And he wasn’t afraid to use his looks to intimidate his cadets into getting their asses into gear.

He was a man to be avoided. And he was also in charge of discipline.

“Cadets!” he shouted.

Daken automatically snapped into a salute. He saw Orion do the same behind him.

“In a line!” The Beast shouted, and the four cadets—ignoring the fact that they didn’t want to be anywhere near each other—did as he said.

The Beast paced up and down the row, looking angrier by the second. “I WAS JUST INFORMED—”

“Sergeant Turin, I’m going to have to ask you to keep it down. There are patients on this ward.”

It sounded like the doctor, but Daken didn’t dare look around for confirmation.

The Beast nodded. “Apologies, Doctor McCoy,” he said at a slightly lower volume.

He turned his attention back to the cadets. “I was just informed of your behavior this evening. Bar brawling? Starfleet cadets do not engage in such activities! Do you have any excuse for your behavior before I have your hides for a midnight snack?”

Daken hadn’t meant to say anything—he knew The Beast wouldn’t accept an excuse—but the unfairness of it all hit him. “Sir, we were fighting for a lady’s honor!”

The sergeant looked flabbergasted. “Fighting for—I beg your pardon!”

“It’s true, sir,” Orion said. Daken tried to give him a signal to stay out and save himself—as much as possible—but his friend either didn’t see the headshake or ignored it. “Cadet Bandel was accosting a young woman, and Cadet Finn tried to intercede.”

“What a load of crap!” his commanding officer replied.

“Actually, Turin, that sounds about right,” the doctor said.

The Beast turned to look at him. “What?”

“Commander Scott talked to the owner,” the doctor replied. “And, of course, my goddaughter can corroborate their story. She was the one they were fighting over.”

Daken could see the doctor and George, who had moved into his line of sight.

The Beast narrowed his eyes. “This true—ah, miss?”

George shrugged. “Something like that.”

Thanks for the help, Daken thought sourly.

“What’s your name?” The Beast demanded.

The girl crossed her arms over her chest. “Georgiana Kirk.”

***

George didn’t like the sergeant on sight. He was just the type of military person she hated: rough and mean.

And lacking in common sense. Bones was right; there were patients on this floor who had probably been woken up by all the commotion.

She didn’t feel bad for what happened. The four cadets had made their own mess, and besides doing her duty by patching them up, she had no obligation to help any of them.

But some part of her—the part that remembered she was 23, not 63, and usually a fairly nice person—did feel bad that Cadet Finn was getting yelled at for trying to assist her in an uncomfortable situation. George knew it wasn’t all about her—from the grumblings, it looked like the quartet was two pairs of buddies who hated each other—but it had been a little sweet.

She supposed.

George hadn’t believed in fairy tales for a long time, and this was definitely not her idea of a fairy tale—she was no princess, and Finn certainly wasn’t a prince—but her six-year-old self would have thought it was romantic.

She stood beside Bones as he tried to quiet the drill sergeant. “My goddaughter can corroborate their story,” her godfather said.

George gave Turin a little wave. “This true—ah, miss?” the sergeant asked, his voice softening ever so slightly when he realized he was talking to a civilian, not a cadet.

She shrugged. “Something like that,” she said, unwilling to try to get them completely out of trouble. The bar brawl was their own mess.

“What’s your name?” he demanded.

He eyes narrowed. She didn’t like using her name—her father’s name—to pull rank, but at the moment, she liked his tone even less. “Georgiana Kirk.”

She saw the look of surprise on the sergeant’s face, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught four heads snapping around to look at her. They hadn’t known who she was.

“Turin, this is Admiral James Kirk’s daughter,” Bones said smoothly. “And, as I said, my goddaughter.”

Turin gave her a sharp nod. “Well, then. I’ll take that into account, ah, Miss Kirk.”

He turned back to the cadets. “As for you four,” he snarled, “you’d better get whatever sleep you can tonight. Tomorrow, your lives become hell.”

With a respectful nod at Bones, Turin marched the cadets out of the hospital wing.

When they were gone, George sighed and ran her hand across her face. Bones put an arm around her shoulder. “Time for you to get some sleep, too. C’mon, I’ll drive you home.”

She was too tired to protest—and Scotty had taken her keys. “Thanks, Uncle Leo. When you see Scotty, can you get my keys back, please?”

Her godfather reached into his pocket and pulled them out. He jangled them with a grin and then handed them to her. “Scotty took your hovercar home.”

“Good.”

George followed Bones to his own hovercar. She thought about asking her godfather to not mention any of this to her father, but she didn’t want to bring him up right now. Besides, she knew Bones would.

Another great update. I love the dialogue between Bones and George, and Turin reminded me of an older version of Cupcake, for the lolz.


And this:

Bones, however, wasn?t done. ?Damnit, George, I?m a doctor, not a??

?Doctor?? George guessed, which prompted an eye roll.

?You sure are sassy this evening.?

Had me snickering out lout.

Great job! Again.


~MJ

Mira: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed (And hope you still do, almost a year later, as the bunnies are biting again )



Chapter Five

Turin hadn’t been kidding about putting them through hell.

He’d woken Daken and Orion before dawn and sent them to the exercise yard to run laps and do push-ups alongside Bandel and Callahan. The push-ups were hell; Daken kept his arms as steady as possible, trying not to let his broken nose touch the ground.

The Beast only let them go when they had class, which left Daken and Orion to hurry across the snow-dusted grounds without breakfast.

Daken’s stomach was grumbling before the hour was up.

Orion snorted as they were finally released. “We’d better get some food before you get hungry enough to eat your neighbor.”

“Ha ha,” Daken muttered. “This has been a wonderful day so far.”

Orion shrugged. “Could be worse. I heard the Beast order Bandel and Callahan back to the gym after lunch. Looks like our punishment was abated since we were genuinely trying to help the girl.”

The girl. The thought of her stopped Daken for a moment, though he hurried to catch up with the still-walking Orion. “Talk about fortunate,” the blue-skinned cadet was saying. “James Kirk’s daughter. The Beast wouldn’t have let us off the hook for anyone else.”

“Not that she did much,” Daken grumbled, but he wasn’t really thinking about that.

He hadn’t known, when he’d tried to help, who she was—or, rather, who her father was. He’d just seen a pretty girl and a man he hated.

And she was pretty. Straight brown hair, long legs … and a bad attitude.

Orion snorted. “I see that look,” he said. “Watch out, man. Her dad’ll come after you.”

Daken shook his head. “What? No. I am not interested in Georgiana Kirk.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“I’m serious, Orion. She’s a pill.”

“You just keep telling yourself that.”

***

And he did. But despite that, Daken couldn’t help paying more attention to the girls around him. Every time he saw a flash of long, brown hair or heard a snarky comment, his head whipped around. But it was never her.

Orion, blissfully, was silent. If he noticed Daken’s preoccupation, he decided to just let it be.

Daken was walking alone across campus when he thought he heard her voice nearby. He turned in time to see a brunette—Georgiana, after all these days—with her arms windmilling. Daken hurried over as she fell backward on a slippery patch of the still-cy sidewalk.

“Oof. Ug. Thanks,” she said, wiping her hair out of her face as he pulled her to a dry spot and helped her stand upright.

“My pleasure to return the favor.”

She had turned, presumably to see who he was, when he spoke. The grateful look faded. “Mr. Fighting For A Lady’s Honor,” she said humorlessly.

“Actually, that’s Cadet Fighting For A Lady’s Honor, but my friends just call me Honor.” Daken couldn’t help the tease—or the smirk he could feel crossing his face.

She snorted. “Right. How’s your nose?”

He bent his head closer to her, and she reached her hand up to his face. He had a second to think this might be romantic if she weren’t checking his nose when she gently pressed it.

“How does that feel?” she asked, her tone completely professional.

“Fabulous,” he replied. “Not a pain in the world, Doc.”

She arched an eyebrow—impressively, he decided. “How about telling me the truth?”

“Well, since you are a medical professional—it wasn’t exactly pleasant, not that I mind pretty girls touching my face. It’s still a little sore.”

She nodded. “If it’s just sore, then it’s healing well,” she said, ignoring the “pretty” comment. “You can take regular painkillers if it’s bothering you. If it starts to hurt badly, come back to the hospital.”

“And no swimming, right?” he asked sarcastically. It had been in McCoy’s instructions before they were released.

She snorted again. “As if you’d want to, in this weather.” She shivered a little as the words left her lips.

“Cold?”

“A little. I spent the last four years at U Florida.”

At least, he thought, the biting sarcasm was gone. “It’s usually not this cold in San Francisco, even in January. Not a great welcome for you. However,” he added, thinking quickly, “I do know a place that serves pretty good hot chocolate.”

There went the eyebrow again. “Now you want to buy me a drink?”

“No way. I just saved you for the second time—you’re buying.”

It startled a laugh out of her, and Daken was surprised to see her cold features melt a little. She looked young for the first time since he’d met her at the bar.

“You did—I suppose I could buy you a drink. A non-alcoholic one, that is.” She gestured in front of her. “Lead on.”

Daken bowed clumsily and offered her his arm. “So you don’t slide on the ice again,” he said. “I went to Minnesota. I can handle a little snow.”

She laughed again and surprised him by actually taking his arm.

***

If she’d know it was going to take this long to arrive, George thought, she might have just suggested they grab coffee at the Academy. As soon as Daken led her through the door, she stopped and stared.

The place was pink. That was the best adjective George could come up with. Pink, lacy, and very girly—not a place she thought Daken would frequent. Heck, not a place she would usually visit.

Daken must have caught her expression. “I know, it’s a little much,” he explained, “but it has the best hot chocolate in the city.”

He led her to a lace-tablecloth-covered booth. George slid in across from him and began peeling off her layers, even though she hadn’t warmed up yet.

Before she could say a word, a waitress wearing a flower-print apron scurried to the table. “Goodness, darling, you must be freezing! I’m Jane, and I’m here to help. What can I do for ya?” she asked with a southern twang.

“Two hot chocolates, please,” Daken ordered, unwrapping his scarf.

“Coming right up.” Jane left as quickly as she’d come, shirt swirling.

George rested her forearms on the table and leaned in. “I have to know,” she said. “How on earth did you find this place?”

“My mom did, actually.” Daken mimicked her posture, bending his head toward hers. “She loves places like this. She’s from the south—Alabama—and she hates the cold as much as you do. We come here every time she visits.”

George smiled a little wistfully as she thought about the southeast—and about her own mother. “That sounds lovely,” she said quietly.

Daken frowned a little, maybe at her expression. “She’s a lovely woman,” he said. “But if you get on her bad side, you’d better believe you’ll hear about it.” He grinned. “You remind me a little of her, actually.”

George couldn’t do much beyond forcing a smile. Luckily, their hot chocolate arrived before she had to say anything.

“Mmm, this really is good,” she said after taking a sip.

Daken laughed. “You have whipped cream all over your lip,” he said as he handed her a napkin.

George wiped it away sheepishly and tried a more ladylike sip. Daken, she saw, used a spoon to eat half the whipped cream off on his.

“So,” he said, “what about your parents?”

This was what she’d been hoping o avoid. “My father—”

“Is the greatest admiral in the history of Starfleet.”

George rolled her eyes. “Not another fan.”

“I suppose you get that a lot?”

“Only all the time. That was the good thing about going to school so far away—not that many people instantly connected me with him.”

“Well, he is a great man, but since I can see you get enough of that and I want to be original, let’s move on. What’s your mother like?”

George took a deep breath. “I’m not really sure, actually. She died when I was six.”

Daken reached across the table and put his hand over hers. George fought the urge to draw away.

“I’m so—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted harshly. “I don’t need your pity. It was a long time ago.”

Daken obviously swallowed what he was going to say and nodded instead. “Right. I feel a little like a jerk, going on about mine.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. You didn’t know.”

Daken nodded. “Onto a happier subject, then. I think your new boyfriend, Cadet Bandel, is still running laps every morning as punishment.”

George forced herself into a happier mood—which wasn’t too difficult. “Oh, he’s just training for our wedding. It takes a lot of stamina to do that first dance well, you know.”

“Of course. Let me be the first to offer a toast.”

It was, George was surprised to note as they continued bantering, turning into an actually quite pleasant afternoon.

Oh, I have missed this story, and I am so happy to see it up and going. I love the development of Daken's feelings (denial! ), and the little more insight about George's past. The hot chocholate house being all lace and frills was a nice touch. Very nice mental image you painted.

RX: Thanks! She has a lot of mommy and daddy issues, poor girl But this isn't an angst story, so ...

Mira: Nice to see you back! I was imagining the tea shop in Hogsmeade in Harry Potter when I wrote that Daken and George are both in denial





Chapter Six

The snow, which had been barely more than flurries when they entered the warm comfort of the tea shop, turned heavy by the time they left. George pulled her coat closely around her and ducked her head against the wind.

“We’d better head back,” Daken yelled close to her ear. “It’s getting bad. I’ll walk you back home—to make sure you don’t need saving again, of course.”

George was too cold to flirt, so she trudged along next to him, head ducked, letting Daken lead the way back to the Academy. The snow was piling up, to George’s dismay, and even though she’d worn boots, her pants were nearly soaked by the time they reached the campus.

“Where do you live?” Daken had been mostly quiet, either because he was concentrating or because he thought (correctly) that she wouldn’t hold up her end of a conversation. George finally had to take the lead as they made their way as quickly as possible to her father’s apartment.

“I can make it from here,” she tried to halfheartedly insist. Daken just shook his head and grabbed her arm—not trying to be cute this time. The wind had picked up, and George could barely see a few feet in front of her.

They finally made it to her building. Daken stumbled in the door behind her, then shut it quickly. He looked outside at the mounting blizzard and then back at her.

“I guess this is where we say goodbye.”

George shook her head. “I can’t let you go back out there in that. Come in and dry off, and we’ll hope the storm abates soon.”

“‘Abates’? Who says that?” But Daken followed her into the elevator as she pressed the button for her floor.

George unlocked her apartment and stepped inside. Daken followed, looking around. “So this is where the great Admiral Kirk lives?”

“I wouldn’t say that, since he’s never home.” George shrugged out of her coat. “Here, give that to me.” She took his and hung both on the floor, then looked at the rest of him. He was as soaked as she was.

“Give me a second. You’re a little taller than my dad, but I might have something you can wear.” Before Daken could protest, she hurried into her father’s room and searched through his pajamas. She went back to the living room and handed them to Daken, who had apparently stationed himself beside the door.

She gestured to the bathroom. “You can change in there.”

Daken looked down at the clothes in his hands, then looked uncertainly at her. “Are you sure he won’t mind?”

George shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.” Because he’ll never know, she added silently, knowing that if she said her thoughts aloud, Daken would refuse the sweats.

Still looking cautious, Daken headed into the bathroom, leaving her time to change into sweatpants of her own. She cranked the heat in the apartment even higher. When Daken was done changing, she threw their wet clothes into the dryer, pretending not to notice that the pants were indeed several inches too short on him.

Then she realized she had no idea what to do with him. The snowstorm didn’t look like it was slowing down, and it had been a long time since she’d had a young man—a virtual stranger!—over. Especially one this good-looking.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she asked, rubbing her hands together.

“Er, yes, please.” He looked as awkward as she, which strangely made her a little more comfortable.

She gestured to the living room couch. “Wait there.”

She fled into the kitchen, trying to calm down in the few minutes she had to herself. She’d invited him in because she felt bad about sending him back into the snow after he’d been nice enough to see her home safely, but now that she was here, she had no idea what to do with him.

She moseyed back into the living room with the tea tray, still uncertain of her plans. He stood from the couch and took the tray from her, setting it on the coffee table. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.”

George looked wildly around the room, eyes settling on a rack of movies. “Would you like to watch something?” she asked gesturing toward the rack.

He looked pleased that she’d come up with an activity. “Sure.”

“Any preferences?” George asked, scrutinizing the collection.

Daken shook his head. “Nothing mushy—unless that’s what you like,” he added quickly.

George shook her head. “I think we can find something better than that.”

Movie in the player, George settled on the couch after a few paralyzing seconds of debating between the other side (Will he think I don’t want him here?) and the middle (Will he get the wrong idea?). She chose a space halfway between and felt satisfied with her choice until he scooted over a bit.

Now he’s closer. What do I do? What does he want? What do I want?

Certainly not anything romantic. He had annoyed her at their first meeting, kept up the non-stop flirting all afternoon … but she found him oddly charming.

George tried to relax as the movie started, but she kept looking over at him. On her third glance, she found him looking back at her.

She smiled a little, scooted closer, and put him arm around her shoulders. She tried not to stiffen as he asked, “Warmer?”

Oh, yes.

“Er, yes, that’s fine.” She pulled a blanket over both their laps. Deciding to surrender rather than fight, she leaned against his side and enjoyed the warmth of his body against hers.

***

Apparently, she’d just had too much excitement for the day—well, it was probably the long shift she’d pulled before running into him, the reasonable part of Daken noted, but either way, she’d fallen asleep against him halfway through the movie. Careful not to move, or even breathe too loudly, Daken kept his arm around her and let her sleep.

When the movie ended, he shook her gently. “George?” She hadn’t given him permission to use her nickname, and he’d avoided addressing her the whole afternoon, so he hoped she wouldn’t mind. She didn’t, or she was too sleepy to notice, because she just said “Huh”? and opened her eyes.

“You fell asleep,” he said softly as she sat up and looked around, confused.

She blushed. “Sorry about that. Long day.”

She stood up and looked out the window; Daken briefly mourned the comfortable heat of her body beside his. “It’s still snowing,” she said, covering a yawn. “Excuse me. Well, you should probably stay the night.”

Daken froze. “Are you sure?”

George was apparently awake enough to roll her eyes. “Yes. In separate beds—I’ll stay in my father’s room.”

Daken shook his head. “I don’t want to kick you out of your bed.”

“Nonsense. I’ll be perfectly comfortable.” She gave a little grin. “And we’re not sharing.”

Daken laughed, a little disappointed despite himself. “Well, goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight.”

Daken watched until her father’s door shut behind her before he made his way to her room.

He settled under the blue bedsheet, kicking the blackets off quickly (why was the apartment so warm?). He tossed and turned for a while, a little weirded out at sleeping in her room, but mostly curious. He looked at the watch on her bedside table and the photo of a much younger George with the admiral at what appeared to be Disney Land.

He couldn’t stop wondering about her. She seemed so cold the first time he’d met her—she was definitely not happy about his intervention at the bar fight. But she had definitely warmed up this afternoon about the awkward conversation about her parents. And she’d felt comfortable enough to fall asleep against him and let him stay in her room.

Too confused—and too tired to figure out his feelings for the pretty young woman tonight—Daken eventually fell asleep.

He was woken, hours later, by a ring.

Oh, I loved the further continuation of awkward feelings here. The whole situation was quite nice - the snow storm, the cuddling. You have a very nice development going on with them.

I can't wait to see what the ring was.

RX: Thanks!

Mira: Thanks! Their awkwardness is too much fun As for the ring ...



Chapter Seven

The constant ringing woke George from a heavy sleep. As she struggled back to consciousness, she vaguely recognize where she was—her father’s bed—before her mind caught up with her body and she remembered the snowstorm and Daken.

It took another second for her to realize that the sound was the apartment’s communications unit. She threw the blankets off and struggled out of bed, making her way to the hallway.

Where she met a very sleepy Daken. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Comm unit.” George raced into her father’s office, taking a quick look at the clock. 0230. Who in the world is trying to call?

She clicked on the holoprojector, and her godfather’s face filled the screen. “Uncle Leo! Is everything okay? Did something happen at the hospital?” she asked, uncaring that Daken had slipped into the office behind her.

“The hospital is fine,” Bones replied brusquely. “It’s your dad.”

George felt a wave of shock, and her hands gripped the desk. “Dad? What happened?”

Bones shook his head. “We’re not sure. He was scheduled to return from New Vulcan yesterday, but his ship disappeared.” George took a brief moment to think that he wasn’t supposed to be on New Vulcan before she tampered her thoughts and returned her attention to her godfather.

“Ambassador Sarek said he left on time, but the Enterprise disappeared without a word. The Federation just received a message from Kalitan, a planet near the Federation’s borders. He’s been captured.”

George felt her knees go weak, but she didn’t, at the moment, remember how to sit down. “What’s going to happen to him?” she asked fearfully, all annoyance at her father gone.

“Starfleet High Command is having a meeting. You need to be here.” Her godfather looked worried. “Are you going to be okay? I can have someone pick you up.”

Daken, who George had forgotten was in the room, stepped closer, into the doctor’s line of sight. “I can get her there, sir,” he said firmly.

Bones frowned. “Who are you?” he asked harshly.

George shook her head. “A friend. He was caught in the storm—we’ll be right there,” she ended lamely, unsure of how to explain and not having the energy to figure out a strategy. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll be right there.”

Her godfather decided to let it drop, just nodded, and George cut the communication. She whirled around to face Daken. “Can you …”

He nodded. “Where did you put my clothes?”

***

George and Daken raced into the High Command’s building, barely given Daken, who had driven George’s hovercar, enough time to lock it.

George was silently repeating instructions about slowly her breathing and avoiding a panic attack, but they weren’t working. She had never been this afraid in her life. Her father had been going on missions since before she was born, and he’d been in danger, of course, but nothing like this. Nothing so serious that his family had to be informed.

George was running by the time she reached the appointed meeting room. She skidded to a stop ungracefully—and too quickly to stop Daken from running into her and almost knocking her over. He caught both of them. It was just about the time his arm slid around her that she realized that a room full of people was staring at them.

Daken quickly let go of George, who slid into an open seat next to her uncle. Daken looked around the room and saluted.

“Cadet?”

High Admiral Christopher Pike, leader of the High Command, didn’t stand; he had never fully recovered from injuries he sustained from torture years before George was even born—on the Enterprise’s first mission, so she had heard the story too many times to count. Regardless of the fact that Pike preferred to sit when possible, he could command a room.

Daken nodded. “Just delivering Miss Kirk, sir. I’ll, ah, be going. Sir.” He gave George a concerned look but departed before she could say or do anything. Or make a decision about whether she wanted him there.

Crazy, she spared a moment to think. Uncle Leo and Scotty are right here.

They were, and she saw the faces of her uncle Spock and aunt Nyota on one communications screen and Captain Sulu, a friend of her father’s, on another.

Bones put a hand on her shoulder as Nyota said, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

George nodded, feeling her throat closing up. She forced words past the lump. “What happened? Uncle Leo didn’t tell me much.”

Pike nodded to acknowledge her. “His ship departed New Vulcan several days ago, to arrive here.” George was tempted to ask what he had been doing there unscheduled but figured she wouldn’t get anywhere, especially by interrupting the high admiral.

“Less than an hour ago, we received a message from a planet called Kalitan in the Artoorian Sector,” Pike continued. “We’re not sure how Kirk ended up there, but the planet is apparently hostile. It’s near the edge of Federation space but is, as far as we know, unaligned with any group. They took the entire crew captive—again, we don’t know how.

“As of an hour ago, the Kalitanians hadn’t killed anyone they captured. They used the admiral to relay their ransom demands. High Command views this as an act of aggression against the Federation and is deploying a fleet to recue Admiral Kirk and the crew. The ships will depart Earth in two hours.”

“What demands?” George asked. “What are they using my father for?”

One of the high admirals frowned at her. “Miss Kirk—”

“It’s all right. I invited her,” Pike interrupted. He turned to George. “They want command of several Federation systems. Don’t worry, Georgiana; we’ll get your father back.”

She nodded. “And I’ll help you.”

The words surprised her almost as much as they surprised the rest of the group. She wasn’t a fighter; she was a college graduate with med school dreams who had vowed long ago to never tie herself to the navy.

“I think not,” a third high admiral rebutted. “You’re not even a member of Starfleet.”

Pike nodded in agreement. “You’re too close to the situation, George. We’ll keep you updated.”

“But—” But he’s my father. But I need to make sure he’s okay. But I need to see him alive.

“No.” Pike was firm.

“What about the ransom video?” George demanded.

The third high admiral shook his head. “This situation is highly unusual. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even be here.”

“You shouldn’t be here now,” she heard another one mutter, but no one acknowledged the words.

“That’s right,” Pike agreed. “We can’t show you the video. It … isn’t pretty.” George didn’t want to think about what that meant. “And you can’t go on the mission. It’s too dangerous.”

George, still braced for a fight, turned to her godfather, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry, George, but they’re right. The best thing you can do is stay here. They’ll get your dad back. He’s not going down without a fight.”

“Spock and I are headed to Earth,” Nyota said. “We’ll all be together.”

“And I’m leading the mission.” Sulu nodded through the telescreen at her. “I won’t let anything happen to your dad, George.”

She looked around the room but found no allies. Her mind was racing. She refused to accept this, any of this—her father’s capture, High Command’s refusal to let her tag along. Her dad had never been there, and if something didn’t happen—and quickly—he never would be.

George stood up. “Fine.” She almost stalked from the room but couldn’t bring herself to be that rude—not to Pike. “Thank you for inviting me, High Admiral Pike.”

She left quietly, but not complacently. Lost in thought, she nearly bumped into Daken a few steps down the hall. “Sor—what are you doing here?”

Daken caught her, his hands on her upper arms. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he said. “How’s your dad?”

George shrugged angrily. “They won’t show me the ransom video or tell me much of anything. ‘It’s too dangerous.’”

“I’m sorry.”

Daken seemed to be struggling for the right words, but George wasn’t paying attention to him, or even the fact that his hands were still resting on her arms. “If there’s anything I can do to help …”

Help. Daken. He’s a member of Starfleet. A cadet to be sure, but he had access to places she didn’t.

She grinned. “Actually, there is.”

***

Nyota sighed unhappily as soon as the connection ended. “I feel so bad for George,” she said, hugging her husband. “Thank you for agreeing to go to Earth with me. I think she’ll need all the support she can get.”

Spock wrapped his arms around her. “Of course. It can’t be easy for her.”

“And she’s so headstrong,” Nyota continued. “No wonder she demanded to go on the rescue mission! It’s just the sort of thing Jim would do.”

Spock looked at the now-blank communications screen. “Yes,” he said slowly. “It is.”