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Mar. 22nd, 2007 02:36 pmAs it had every morning for a week, Jim's day began with a terse text message from Starfleet Command confirming his location, and reminding him that his situation was still under review. He wonders if some functionary at HQ, too busy doing real work, simply programmed the system to send him (and the rest of the crew) that note every morning, and whether that note would keep going out for years to come.
Jim replied dutifully, fighting the urge to tell the sender that he'd fled Earth for Wrigley's Pleasure Planet. He next skimmed the day's headlines and his other messages, finding much about recovery efforts and far too much about his own case. The inevitable backlash was trying to begin, but for the most part the public was in favor of forgiving all of his crimes and perhaps also making him the next president of the Federation (which would probably be the worst punishment anyone could come up with). He found some of the conspiracy theories entertaining, though the idea that Vulcan had created the probe so that their lackey Kirk could save Earth was disturbingly racist. Hadn't humanity gotten beyond that yet?
He checked in as best he could with Antonia and with the crew. The former had returned to her work as an architect, and had been called in to help plan repairs to a gallery in Osaka and a college in Brisbane that she had designed. She hoped to be home soon, but the Brisbane job was more extensive than first thought, and her meetings with the contractors lasted hours. She promised to bring back some local cuisine from both cities.
McCoy visited his daughter and her family before moving on to hide with her in-laws. He wasn't taking any calls even from Jim, and was probably secretly monitoring Starfleet Medical, though certainly not planning to make things worse for any hospital by arriving with the press in tow. Chekhov returned to his hometown, a place where "there are 800 people named Chekhov and 26 named Pavel Chekhov. No one can find me there." It would be nice to have a place like that, Jim thought wistfully. Scotty was also in Mother Russia, with an old classmate from the Academy in Vladivostok, "the last place anyone would ever think of looking for me." Sulu was...somewhere. He told his commander he had a place to go, and left it at that.
Uhura? Her skills as a communications facilitator were of immediate use in the clean-up efforts, and so she volunteered her services to Christine Chapel and Starfleet Medical. Jim tried to convince her that she only asking to be stared at for the next two weeks, but she assured him that she and Dr. Chapel had found a place for her to work in relative private and secrecy. He also suspected that Nyota and Christine would be busy discussing Spock's current condition.
And Spock, the only one not facing charges, returned to his small apartment on the Starfleet campus, to begin the next step in returning to his old life. If anyone could stare dwon the press, it was Spock. Not that Jim wanted to see Spock on his own yet, but it was Spock's decision, and Sarek had very quietly assured Jim that the Vulcans within the fleet would be around if needed.
Which left Jim, alone with his dog and his horse and his cabin. In some ways, it was lonely. After a career in the fleet, he was used to people. And after being away from Antonia for so long, he wanted her around, most of the time. But privacy on a starship, or in the streets of San Francisco, or in the crowded hallways of the Academy, was rare. Sometimes, it was good to be alone with your thoughts. Or betters till, without having to think.
He saddled up Glengarry, a brown and white horse he'd ridden many times in the past, on loan from his uncle for the occasion, and heading towards the streams, still cold from winter. Butler trotted along behind them. He missed doing this when on Vulcan. They didn't have horses or dogs on Vulcan.
All was fine. Only it wasn't. In another week, he was certain, he would have to return to Starfleet Command and face the music at last. Which made the chance to leave all his worries behind all the more worthwhile.
Jim replied dutifully, fighting the urge to tell the sender that he'd fled Earth for Wrigley's Pleasure Planet. He next skimmed the day's headlines and his other messages, finding much about recovery efforts and far too much about his own case. The inevitable backlash was trying to begin, but for the most part the public was in favor of forgiving all of his crimes and perhaps also making him the next president of the Federation (which would probably be the worst punishment anyone could come up with). He found some of the conspiracy theories entertaining, though the idea that Vulcan had created the probe so that their lackey Kirk could save Earth was disturbingly racist. Hadn't humanity gotten beyond that yet?
He checked in as best he could with Antonia and with the crew. The former had returned to her work as an architect, and had been called in to help plan repairs to a gallery in Osaka and a college in Brisbane that she had designed. She hoped to be home soon, but the Brisbane job was more extensive than first thought, and her meetings with the contractors lasted hours. She promised to bring back some local cuisine from both cities.
McCoy visited his daughter and her family before moving on to hide with her in-laws. He wasn't taking any calls even from Jim, and was probably secretly monitoring Starfleet Medical, though certainly not planning to make things worse for any hospital by arriving with the press in tow. Chekhov returned to his hometown, a place where "there are 800 people named Chekhov and 26 named Pavel Chekhov. No one can find me there." It would be nice to have a place like that, Jim thought wistfully. Scotty was also in Mother Russia, with an old classmate from the Academy in Vladivostok, "the last place anyone would ever think of looking for me." Sulu was...somewhere. He told his commander he had a place to go, and left it at that.
Uhura? Her skills as a communications facilitator were of immediate use in the clean-up efforts, and so she volunteered her services to Christine Chapel and Starfleet Medical. Jim tried to convince her that she only asking to be stared at for the next two weeks, but she assured him that she and Dr. Chapel had found a place for her to work in relative private and secrecy. He also suspected that Nyota and Christine would be busy discussing Spock's current condition.
And Spock, the only one not facing charges, returned to his small apartment on the Starfleet campus, to begin the next step in returning to his old life. If anyone could stare dwon the press, it was Spock. Not that Jim wanted to see Spock on his own yet, but it was Spock's decision, and Sarek had very quietly assured Jim that the Vulcans within the fleet would be around if needed.
Which left Jim, alone with his dog and his horse and his cabin. In some ways, it was lonely. After a career in the fleet, he was used to people. And after being away from Antonia for so long, he wanted her around, most of the time. But privacy on a starship, or in the streets of San Francisco, or in the crowded hallways of the Academy, was rare. Sometimes, it was good to be alone with your thoughts. Or betters till, without having to think.
He saddled up Glengarry, a brown and white horse he'd ridden many times in the past, on loan from his uncle for the occasion, and heading towards the streams, still cold from winter. Butler trotted along behind them. He missed doing this when on Vulcan. They didn't have horses or dogs on Vulcan.
All was fine. Only it wasn't. In another week, he was certain, he would have to return to Starfleet Command and face the music at last. Which made the chance to leave all his worries behind all the more worthwhile.
