Story [Star Trek 2009] "as silent stars pay witness", UDC5 - COMPLETE on 9/29/10!!

Jade_eyes: I figured that you'd enjoy those!

Maggy: I'm so glad you thought so!

Brodiew: I'm so glad you enjoy them!! The last one made more sense at 500 words, lemme tell you (hense the trouble. ). I was trying to do Kirk talking to a future generation about all of their quirky missions.

earlybird: Isn't he? It sure does make writing fun.

Nat: Me too.


~MJ

 

This week is based on an idea that me and the truly creative brodiew were passing around way back when. Who knows, you may see more from it someday . . .

(And yes, I did have to play with the crack!ships sooner or later. )

---

[u][b]Week Nine[/b]: [i]?even in a far after, a step to go for a fall?[/i][/u]


[b]041. Murder[/b]

He is assigned the destruction of the [i]U.S.S Kelvin[/i] for his dissertation his last year as a Cadet. The story, while one well known to the campus as a whole ? the [i]Kelvin's[/i] death only being two years gone ? took on a new edge as he read about George Kirk's bravery and the senseless murder of hundreds, even for all of the lives that were saved . . .

When he looked up Winona Kirk's address for an interview, he was surprised to see that she still served in Starfleet, even with her two children. Fortunately, she was planetside at that time, and so he put the call through.


[b]042. Mystery[/b]

Two days later, he was in Iowa to interview the widow of George Kirk. Winona was hospitable and pleasant, sitting out a tea service, and answering his every question to the best of her ability as she unraveled the mystery of her that he had built up in his mind.

He took dutiful notes, while trying not to grimace at the tea.

?You don't like tea,? she had said softly sometime later, a smile in her eyes.

?Not normally, no,? he admitted.

She rose again, and headed towards the kitchen. ?George would make that face every time I tried to push tea on him too.?


[b]043. Writer[/b]

He got back to San Francisco that same evening, and despite the late hour, he set to work writing his dissertation. While he wrote, he oddly found his thoughts routing back to Winona . . . Winona. and the tired sort of weight that rested in her eyes. She was still beautiful, he found himself thinking a moment later, surprising himself. Everything haunted and broken about her only seemed to add to that. (Then again, he had always been drawn to impossible things before.)

Shaking his head at his thoughts, he picked up the mug by his console, and smiled as the dark flavor of the coffee burst on his tongue as he took a sip.


[b]044. Retired[/b]

Winona Kirk finally retired from Starfleet after the events of Tarsus IV. He had been the First Officer on the ship that had brought her son back alive from that hellhole (where Jim had been staying with her sister), and later the man who took Jim home again. While he assured her that mentally Jim would recover, it did little good. (a horror was still a horror, and a mother's fear being something almost tangible . . .)

As she held her shaken son, tears in her eyes stemming from regret and pain, Pike could easily feel for the broken woman and the child that she wasn't quite sure how to hold together.


[b]045. Teacher[/b]

He kept up a weekly communication with Winona after Jim applied for Starfleet. The weekly updates were as helpful for her as they were enjoyable for him, if he was completely honest with himself.

Finally, three years later, he calls her after Nero's defeat. He wasn't able to tell her son's story before Winona informed him in a whisper that she was already in San Francisco ? visiting the son whom she was just starting to make things right with.

The smile that threatened to bloom onto his face turned to something soft when she bit her lip before asking him if he still liked to drink coffee.


[b]~MJ[/b] [face_rose]

 

Jade_eyes: Shmi/Qui and Daala/Thrawn are both ideas I have thrown around. I even did a Viqi/Thrawn crack!ship for the roulette waaaaaay back when. Oh yes, it is so much fun dealing with things like that. And you're right about Pike as a good father figure - even without Winona - he's a great character to play with.

Nat: It's one that sure grew on us, that's for sure.

Nienna: Oh welcome!! I am so glad that you stumbled on to these - I understand a rabid fangirl any day, and I'm only too happy to place an emphasis on Spock.

brodie: Oh good! You enjoyed these. These were such a great idea - they do deserve more than drabbles someday.

Maggy: Fascinating.


~MJ

 

This week was another pain in the butt, and rather than throw them around more, I decided to give them to you as-is. I see I have more . . . interesting weeks to tackle ahead of me.

---

[u][b]Week Ten[/b]: [i]?Before the Story Told?[/u][/i]


[b]046. Captain[/b]

?I can see it now, Bones.?

?What? Your delusions of grandeur?? McCoy scathed.

?No, no. My name known galaxy wide ? James T. Kirk: the greatest tactical mind of the age. First Cadet to pass the Kobiyashi Maru, -?

? Which you haven't.?

? - youngest Captain in Starfleet history, -?

? Which you aren't yet.?

? - legendary commander of the [i]Enterprise[/i], -?

?Which they won't let you near with a ten foot stick if they're any wise.?

? - and savior of worlds!?

McCoy rolled his eyes before pointedly looking back down at the autopsies he was marking. His bemused glare did little to kill Jim's smile.



[b]047. Pilot[/b]

The simulators at the Academy managed to show the ups and downs with piloting everything from a simple shuttle-craft, to the great [i]Constitution[/i] class beauties that were the dreams of every Cadet enrolled for flight. For Hikaru Sulu, there was nothing more magnificent than the replicated shake of the controls in his hands and the rumble of the ship all around him as she prepared to reach for the stars . . .

Only to fail spectacularly a moment later when she refused to jump to warp.

He could hear the raised brow in his instructor's voice in his headset. ?Forget the parking break again, kid??



[b]048. Mechanic[/b]

The concepts of space and time and the movements within them fascinated him on a level that had nothing to do with science, and everything with a wide and untempered sort of beauty. While that beauty could fascinate him, it was the maths and rules engaged that governed that beauty that engulfed his mind to a point of near obsession.

The equations on his PADD were spiraling out of control; but he was there, he was almost there . . .

He just needed to test his theory . . .

He eyed Admiral Archer's beagle sniffing around the academy green with a speculative eye.



[b]049. Mercenary[/b]

?Oh, the sun, it burns . . . ?

?It's almost ten, Gaila.?

?Oh good, you can tell time,? was the mumbled slur from the mass in the bed. Uhura poked at the blankets with a determined finger.

?C'mon, you have your Interspecies Ethics final in twenty-nine minutes,? Nyota tried again.

?Kill me . . .?

?Twenty-eight minutes.?

?Can't I just fail, Ny? . . .?

Nyota sighed, ?Gaila, out of this bed now, or I will hide your Hishoi heels somewhere you will never see them again.?

Silence; and then there was movement.

?Vile mercenary,? Gaila finally mumbled under her breath, poking her head up from under the pillows.

?You'll thank me later.?



[b]050. Serenity[/b]

For Spock, there were few things that he enjoyed more than arriving at the computer labs in the early hours of the morning. The equations that required his attention seemed to ebb and flow easier in the silence; the patience that they needed was easier to acquire and keep.

Every morning, like clockwork, that serenity was broken by his junior programer. Gaila Falan-Raz, while one of the best computer programers of his acquaintance, had a fascinating taste in music ? all played at truly baffling audio levels.

His peace was shattered, but a part of him found it as easy to work with the discordance of sound as with the serenity of silence.



[b]~MJ[/b] [face_rose]

 

Jade_eyes: Oh, Gaila is a hoot to write! I do simply adore her.

Ceillean: Welcome! It is so good to see you here - and yes, PMs are definitely a go.

Nat: Thanks!

Nienna: Of course I can send PMs, I love reading your thoughts.


More in a few.

~MJ

 

Week Eleven: ?The Monster's Slain: Now We're Working on the Sunset Part?


051. Office

?So, let me recap this for you: You've broken three ribs, and you've fractured numerous bones in your left wrist. Your airways are bruised from you ticking off the damn Vulcan - and you have numerous bruises and contusions from God knows how many different scuffles. You have a concussion. And you have Hengrauggi poisoning from the scratches you aquired from not staying in the damn pod like you were told! And now, you want to go back to the bridge to do what?!?

?Bones -?

?Don't Bones me, Jim!?

?But!?

?The only station you're manning is right there, get it??

Kirk glared. ?Got it.?



052. Sales

An hour later, Kirk was staring at the sickbay walls. He hated sickbay. He really, really did. He hated being there under normal circumstances ? but now there was a ship to run, and he actually had a job that he was proud to do . . .

When Lieutenant Uhura walked in, carrying a truly obnoxious stack of PADDs, he felt horror start to creep up on him.

?If you've ever felt even the slightest compassion for me, you will tell me that those are not for me,? he pleaded.

?For you,? she said sweetly.

Kirk made a face. ?I feel like I'm prostituting my talents, working on these.?

Uhura grinned. ?Have fun, Captain.?



053. Accounting

They had beat the badguys; and now they were paying the fines for the troll's bridge.

The ship was running on impulse power; no warp core, and the great distance on such power was putting an unbelievable amount of strain on the already cracked structure of the Enterprise ? they'd be lucky to make it home without a tow. Half of the crew quarters were unlivable ? and they had an influx of Vulcan refugees, as well as those from the shuttles that made it off the other Federation ships. Radiation leaks . . . communications systems overload . . .

Pursing his lips, Kirk set his mind to work.



4. Management

The first meeting of the senior crew of the Enterprise was not the pristine affair that it should have been. They were all beaten and bone-weary ? Chekov looked years older, and Sulu's face was bruised but smiling. Uhura's hair was in the same ponytail from before they had left. Spock's posture dipped slightly, and McCoy's bluster looked just a little forced.

But they were all looking at him ? to him. He saw respect in each gaze.

He felt very small, under the weight of their regard. Very small; and very, very proud.

?At ease, gentleman,? he whispered, and just barely, a new light started to fill those in the room.



055. Temp

Hours before reaching Earth once more, Kirk sat with McCoy in his office. There was a bottle of ale open between them that had steadily depleted over the last hour.

Bones swirled the ale in his tumbler with a thoughtful sort of look. ?Kid, I know that when we get back, you're looking at ? at best: a lower ranking than you have now; at worst: a court marshal.?

Kirk winced at hearing it put that way.

?But, for what it's worth . . . I was honored to serve under you. I'd be honored to do so again.?

Kirk smiled at the honest words. ?Same here, Bones . . . Same here.?


~MJ

 

Master_Jaina: I am so glad that you have decided to de-lurk! I have been enjoying your stories like nothing else, and your feedback is stellar.

Nienna: Your review made my day - I was trying to do all of that, so I am glad that I didn't compeletely miss my mark. I am stoked that you are enjoying these!

Jade_eyes: Thanks a million!!


~MJ

 

So, this week was an odd hybrid for me. While the idea of it stems from a "What a Lovely Way to Burn" chapter; the meat of the POV and the dialogue are taken from a scrapped Spock and McCoy scene for the bromance challenge. Yep - I don't even try to understand my muse. I just obey her, or else she tends to get cranky.

A pity that doesn't work the other way around.

---

[b][u]Week Twelve[/b]: [i]?patch you back together again?[/i][/u]


[b]056. Terrorists[/b]

Fifteen minutes from Ruua Prime, a 'gift' from a local group of terrorists goes off within the halls of the [i]Enterprise[/i].

The blast was crude; the effects immediate. Whole decks were roped off, even as those inside were diligently extracted. McCoy has a parade of wounded officers in his formerly peaceful medbay. Triage had been set up by Nurse Chapel; while he had blood under his hands, and scared eyes meeting his own from the kid he was saving.

McCoy has already saved five officers on his table. A number he refuses to think about has slipped his grasp.



[b]057. Deadline[/b]

McCoy felt his heart drop when a slim form was brought in, her limp frame propped between Jim and Spock and a red staining her uniform a shade darker than usual.

He tried to find the numbness he was used to feeling in moments like these while treading Nyota Uhura, but it was fleeting. The heartbeat under his hand felt like a deadline. It flickered as the monitors beeped warningly.

The Vulcan's presence at her side is silent; not one ounce of his attention is on him, and yet McCoy feels him acutely.

?Dammit, I could do my job easier without significant others crowding up my workspace.?



[b]058. Jack.[/b]

?It's amazing how one group of jacked up zealots can really put a wrench in the machine.?

At the bedside of the unmoving Nyota, Spock was silent.

McCoy let his gaze linger. ?I think I envy you sometimes . . . I can turn my emotions off for the most part in the operating room - I have to to avoid going nuts. But after . . . Damn, but how many kids have died while I tried to pump life back into them? . . . It isn't right.?

Spock didn't move; didn't flinch. ?It would be illogical for you to assume that death's effects can be so easily shrugged off . . . For anyone.?



[b]059. Defiant[/b]

He watches them from afar the first time she wakes up.

He watched the confusion on Uhura's face as she listened. The regret in Spock's eyes was only a shade darker than any other time . . . There was a silent tilt of heads that said that there was an entire conversation going on the he was not privy to . . .

The shrapnel had been imbedded in her spinal column. He had removed the pieces ? but walking would be slow in coming. She'd do it ? if the defiant look about her eyes said anything about it ? but the next few months would be long.



[b]060. 24[/b]

?Here I have outlined a list of physical therapy procedures; and the meeting with Doctor Brenn will explain the particulars . . .? he explained, pointing to the highlighted PADD that Uhura was determinedly pouring over.

?So . . . how long until I walk again?? she finally asked, lip between her teeth.

He hesitated. ?It depends on you ? anywhere from twenty-four days to months.?

?I'll do it in days.?

Slowly, she tried to sit up, her hands white-knuckled on the biobed as her body wobbled dangerously. Immediately, Spock's hand was soft and steady at her back, bracing her where she was weak.

McCoy nodded softly ? twenty-four days it was.



[b]~MJ[/b] [face_rose]