001 » ACTION/TEXT

[logistical]

[action; closed to mccoy, kirk, and uhura]

[ He reaches the apartment barely out of breath. He's the picture of professionalism but anyone who knows him as well as they do will see the anxiety immediately. The Doctor'd been shouting, Jim had been coughing and Nyota -- he does not even want to consider what he might do if she's been harmed. ]

[ He knocks, the rapping hard and too loud in the empty corridor. The sharp shard in his heart is... dread. ]



[action; open]

[ The City is his to explore for the moment. He's out of uniform, dressed plainly in dark-coloured coat and pants (yes, in the heat, perks of growing up in a desert). He hasn't done anything about the ears quite yet, but a hat is with him, half-poking out of a pocket, just in case. ]

[ The meandering appears to be random, but to anyone watching closely (or long enough) a discernible pattern emerges: a simple grid layout with delays between returns to certain points. He's checking back, double checking, too. Mostly, he can be found with his tricorder, occasionally peering quizzically at it, or observing a few people at the central arrival square. (Maybe he's even observing you.) ]


[text]

[ Once he gets the hang of the network, he opts for a simple text post. No need to unnecessarily alarm anyone who is unfamiliar with aliens, and furthermore, no need to bring attention to his presence. Khan may have unexpected allies. ]

Greetings. I am a recent arrival.

What is the highest level of technology available here? Is it freely available to the populace? Where might I find parts?

Your assistance is appreciated.

Comments

[hischair]

They won't work until they've been recalibrated by Chekov, or unless you're in the mood to try your luck in our sector of the City Labs I procured for Starfleet's use.

[ Jim's smile returns at the corners of his lips, twitching as he straightens it. ]

I thought you might want somewhere half-decent to figure all this bullshit out, if you came back. It's twenty-first century equipment but there are other races that work there too, aliens with technology similar to our own. Scavenge around the projects, I'd bet my right arm you'll find something useful.

Oh! I almost forgot. [ Welp, getting onto his knees and digging out a box from under the bed. ] I saved you some clothes while I was making my own rounds.

[logistical]

Then I shall locate Ensign Chekov.

[Labs are tempting, but. Crew first. He'll ask around later about possible allies and parts.]

[And then he just flat out stares Jim dragging out the box. P L S.]

Is my uniform inappropriate?

[hischair]

[ On his knees, he thinks about how to go about this. He could blurt it out casually (fuck no) or get Spock marginally tethered on the same level. Jim slides the box on the bed, nodding jerkily to the floor. ]

Get down here, I need to tell you something else.

[ It'll be easier to restrain him if Spock isn't bolt upright. A crouch will do, he thinks, blue eyes flicking up inside a frown to look at the bedsheets ahead. He's faster and stronger. ]

[logistical]

[THE MOST SUSPICIOUS LOOK. He walks forward a single step.]

Captain?

[A pause lapses, before he looks cautiously at the door. No, there isn't anyone there. How soundproof are the walls? What is going on?]

[But Jim. He trusts Jim. No matter what comes. It's that which makes him approach and put himself on the same eye level by crouching.]

[hischair]

[ Good. If Jim has to bodily tackle a grown-ass male Vulcan to stop him flinging himself out of the door, he damn well will. It's obvious he doesn't know how to phrase it, so he opts for a direct; ]

Khan is back. He's in the City and he's loose. That's why we needed to get you here before anything happened, your uniform's a damn klaxon.

[logistical]

[The look Spock gives Jim is full of icy fury. Khan is in a cryotube, he can't be running around loose like that, not after what he did--]

Are you aware of his present location?

[Not because he wants to cut somebody, why would you think that? Part of it's also a plea, to be pulled back, to help with emotional control. They are ill, he's needed at their side, not chasing an unknown enemy.]

[hischair]

You stay the hell here, hear me? You are not to go after him, Spock, that's a direct order. No one provokes him into picking off our people.

[ Have some stern captaining right back. ]

I don't know where he is so you can stop trying to figure it out.

[logistical]

[He doesn't tremble. He wants to, because the grief and rage at being on the other side of the glass is raw, and real, and Jim doesn't know how that felt, or have any inkling of it.]

[His tone is equally cold. He's retreated to the veneer of emotionlessness.]

We should be prepared for all eventualities. [He will kill us all.] It is only logical.

[hischair]

[ He reaches out to squeeze a shoulder, a wealth of aching concern burning through Jim with an irrational fear of Spock slipping away for a third time, by his count. Glass, vanishing, and by Khan's hands. No, you stay safe. ]

I already insisted to Janeway that I'm the one who should talk to him first over the network. It's obvious I'm here, practically everyone knows my name; I'm the one he'll accept terms from.

I'm not going to let anyone get hurt this time.

[ He'll go through me first, that's how it should have been. ]

[logistical]

That is not —

[His protest is cut off. Jim's thumb meets his neck and a flood of foreign emotions comes with it - concern, fear, anger, anxiety. I'm scared, Spock. Help me not to be.]

[But recover he does: a first officer is stalwart, steadfast, and more so when Jim's the captain in question. Spock is meant to serve as the steady ground, not act recklessly and endanger the crew.]

— a long-term solution.

[He'd honestly rather they just get rid of the man, but there were still unknown factors to consider. When Khan was from. What he might do, and whether their actions would simply make him more dangerous.]

You will not engage him alone. [A thoughtful pause.] Neither will I.

[That is my compromise. Take it or leave it.]

[hischair]

[ He notes the oddity of that broken sentence only after hearing the compromise. Right, telepathy. Jim's had less than any actual experience with what he's about to do, but he tries anyway and there's a tsunami of undefined images, thoughts and feelings that he does his clumsy human best to send Spock's way.

'I am and always have been your friend' keep-you-stay-protect-STAYPLEASEplease. A world engulfed by nothing and it hurts, there's a raw note of loss embedded in Jim that has fully embraced after the destruction of Vulcan, not-my-home-YOURSBUTOURS-because-it-WASyours. A face through glass. family-mine-you're-my-brotherMYBROTHER-don't-leave-IWON'TLEAVE-we-have-to-stick-together.

Jim tries so hard and it's like trying to find purchase with soap on ice or whispering through a gale for Spock to pick up on whatever he can without the security of a mind-meld (and how the hell do those even work, he doesn't have a clue). ]

I won't leave again.

[ He murmurs it quietly, throat closing tight as he watches him. There's a thread of desperation ringing through him because he lost Spock, just like the older version lost his Jim. A shuddering breath rattles out of him, not because he's any good at this but for the sheer degree of what he can't say being actively dredged up into a painful lump within his chest. ]

Tell me you're getting any of this.

[ toldyouIWOULDMISSYOUandIhave-I-have. ]