smartass_captain | Going Dark [The Beginning]

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Going Dark [The Beginning]

This is Captain James T. Kirk. We have docked at Starfleet Outpost Yorktown. Once all mission logs, current shifts, and assignments have been completed you are permitted off ship and off duty on leave until we receive our next assignment. Please keep your personal devices with you at all times in case of an emergency. Enjoy your break, everyone.

You've earned it. Kirk out.

With the alpha crew busy getting everything squared away on the bridge before they head out into the base proper, Jim sits down at his desk in his quarters and looks over his most recent log. He can hear the sleep deprivation in his voice. The strained veneer of calmness that stretches over his barely held together psyche.

It's New Years Day in the Nexus. Jim's been off the map there for two months now. The messages to his PINpoint have all been answered dutifully, though they're becoming less and less frequent. With the peace talks falling through spelling a failure in his last month's worth of work Jim almost feels like his absence from the Nexus is pointless. An excuse.

Why would he go back if he knows he's going to leave? Starfleet forwarded him their recommendation for promotion again just before Bones caught him drinking on his own. This time, instead of ignoring it, he signed his name on the application and sent it back to the fleet. There's no place for him in the Nexus just like there's no place for him on the ship. His entire career in Starfleet has been one chasing the shadow of George Kirk and now that he's emerged from that shadow a year older than his father ever got to see what does he have to show for it?

A career built on a dare? There's no longer any steps for Jim to follow in. There's no longer a place for him in his father's old position. He may as well accept the promotion and move on just like he always has. Jim submits his captain's log and gets up from his desk for what will be the last time. He leaves his PINpoint in the drawer and heads back to the bridge to head down to the base with the rest of his alpha crew.

---- Twelve Hours Later ----

To anyone attempting to leave a message with Jim on his PINpoint, they will only receive an error message in reply.

Unable to connect to specified frequency. PINpoint coordinates do not exist. Retry to send your message?

((Please feel free to try and send Jim messages anyway and reach out to each other if you'd like in the comments here. This is an open post, however Jim will not be able to reply so you will be interacting with each other.))

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Unaware of Jim's unhappiness during this time of year, Adia has still noticed his absence from the Nexus. She assumes it has something to do with the fallout of Halloween, especially considering that she hasn't seen Felix, either. But she has a holiday present to deliver, and since she didn't see Jim at the holiday party, she figures it wouldn't hurt to send him a text and see how he's doing.

Hi, Jim. Happy New Year. (Is it a New Year for you?) I have a holiday present for you, is it okay if I send it to the Enterprise?

She hits send, and immediately receives the error message. That's... not good. She's received a variety of error messages in her day, but to have the coordinates not exist at all? She thinks back to the two circumstances that she was unable to use her PINpoint -- inside the Nightmare was one.

Circling a black hole was another.

"What's the matter?" Caspar leans over her shoulder, nestled against her by the cabin's fireplace. "Who are you trying to reach?"

"Jim," she replies, frowning worriedly. "He's usually on his ship..."

"The one with the beard?"

"No, the other one..." She tries re-sending her message, and gets the same error message. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

Caspar presses a comforting kiss on her shoulder. "It's late. You can ask around tomorrow if you don't hear back."

"Okay..." She puts her PINpoint away. She'll try one more time tomorrow morning, and then...

Then it's off to the Nexus.

Edited 2018-01-02 02:00 (UTC)

January fourth.

It's the same almost every year.

At least this time around, the press haven't figured out where Jim is currently living, so they can pester him incessantly for soundbites about the Kirk family tragedy. Neither has Command explicitly ordered him to put in an appearance at the annual Remembrance Day ceremony, only strongly suggesting that he do so, a suggestion that he has zero intention of following. But he can't find some crappy dive bar where he can hide out and drown his sorrows, not when the most popular Federation news streams have plastered his face all over the networks over the last few months, and today in particular. Nor does he want to go to the Nexus, where awkward questions are bound to plague him from all manner of people.

No. Today he just wants to be left alone.

But he's not the only one who feels that way, he's pretty sure. Someone who won't have stupid questions or need the rundown on why Jim Kirk's birthday is nothing to celebrate.

He hasn't really heard from the older captain since the interrupted chess game, over a month ago. Don't call me, I'll call you, he'd said. Maybe not in those exact words, but Jim had understood the message loud and clear, and he's known better than to push, to tread over landmines when he doesn't know the terrain. Especially when he'd already tripped over one that cut deeply enough that his counterpart had all but fled the apartment, never once looking back.

But there's no need to ask questions today. Not about this, or anything else. What can it hurt to offer a small olive branch, to attempt to make right whatever he did wrong? He may want to be alone, but that doesn't stop him from being lonely, and he's missed the strange rapport they'd been building together, a shared understanding that can't be explained or described. The essence of what it means to be James T. Kirk.

His message is brief. If you need a drink, my door is open. He doesn't really expect an answer back, not right away. Maybe not even today at all. Whether because the ship needs the other captain's attention, or maybe he's spending his off-duty hours getting plastered in his quarters, like he has for so many years in the past. A few drinks, a cheap fuck, or maybe picking a fight with whoever seemed the most likely to knock him on his ass and give the pain physical form, something to make him feel alive, not just existing day to day.

So it startles him when his PINpoint receives an immediate reply, and a cold weight settles deep in his stomach as he reads the error message.

PINpoint coordinates do not exist?

Jim sends the message again, hoping that it was only a momentary glitch, knowing in his heart that it's not, even before the same emotionless error returns. A dozen possibilities flit through his mind in an instant, each one of them more ominous than the last, and he can't even begin to decide which one is the worst-case scenario.

He doesn't know why. And what's worse, he may never find out. He doesn't know where in the Nexus he can find the right door, even knowing where it leads, the thought of setting foot there shivering up his spine, all while knowing that he would, if lives depended on it. But there's nothing. And all he has is his imagination to fill in the gaps.

He pours himself a drink and downs it, knowing that it's useless, that there's nothing it can do for him.

It burns the whole way down.

It's for the best you don't try, Jim. Somewhere in the depths of the plaza in an impossibly long alleyway lined with doors a shower of protective glass erupts and scatters onto the ground. Smoke billows out and the faintest traces of an emergency siren can be heard. The door cracks and collapses in on itself. Fades into the brick wall leaving nothing but a sooted stain to ever let anyone know the doorway was there at all.

Danger: Raditaion Exposure

The warnings on the shards of glass stare accusingly up at the empty alleyway.

Not anymore.

Edited 2018-01-04 13:32 (UTC)

It's not a message that Jim likely expects or even wants on his birthday, but a little while after he tries and fails to contact his alternate, another text is sent to his PINpoint.

Hi, Jim. I hate to bother you, but have you tried to get in touch with your alternate lately? I'm getting an error message on my PINpoint and it's worrying me.

If anyone knows where Jim is, it's another Jim. At least, that's the logic Adia is using.

He knows better than to hope. Knows better, and does it anyway, a momentary flicker that swiftly dies when he sees the message is not from his counterpart. Hell, it's not even from Hunter, pretty much the only other person he would've expected to try to reach him today.

Jim reads the message, now more than ever aware that there will be others who are missing the other captain, others who are left twisting in the wind like himself, with no answers and nowhere left to turn.

Screw his annual birthday blues. Something horrible may have happened, and if there's anything - anything - that he can do to start finding out what it was, and whether there's anything he can do about it, he has to try.

I got the same error message. Do you have any contact information for his crew? Jim is pretty sure the other captain had mentioned Bones and Spock having PINpoints, anyway. Only a handful, but it's more than exist in his own universe, as far as he's aware.

No, unfortunately not. Although Spock was handling her Fleet's potential transfer to a different universe, it was Jim who handled their communications. I have the coordinates to his room on the Enterprise, but I tried to send him something and got the same error message.

And what an error message it is. Coordinates do not exist. It gives her a horrible suspicion as to what might be the cause behind it.

I think something may have happened to his ship. And his PINpoint. Which is a problem. How is Jim going to get in touch with anyone to let them know he's okay? And if he's not okay, how are any of them going to find him to help?

Do you know of any other way to get to his world? A portal, or other coordinates?

Shit. It's not unexpected, but Jim had hoped that he was wrong.

He rewrites his next message several times, erasing too-personal details, fumbling attempts to describe what the door to the warp core even looks like, realizing that he can't trust anyone else to recognize it. Not from a secondhand description, and certainly nowhere he'd want anyone going unprepared.

There's a door in the Nexus. I don't know where it is. But I'd know it if I saw it.

A door in the Nexus should be good news, but considering how long it took Jim to type out that information, she's guessing that it's not quite so simple. But it's better than nothing.

Do you think you can help me look for it? There's an area near the Plaza where portals usually congregate. I know it's a long shot, but Jim has done so much for me. I want to at least try.

He's not really surprised that she wants to look. Truth be told, he was going to do just that anyway. No matter what day today is, no matter what his personal problems are. He has to do something. And if anyone else wants to help, that's just one more set of eyes, one more person to look for a door that may never be found.

Of course. Meet you there?

If they can coordinate their efforts, they can cover more ground. It's an impossible task, but Jim has done the impossible before. He can't give up at the first hurdle.

A side benefit of having her own world and personal crisis solved is that it gives her more time to concentrate on helping her friends through theirs.

Sure. I'm in the Plaza, by the vending machines.

And when Jim arrives, that's where he'll find her. She's dressed for the winter weather and has a cup of coffee. (From one of the vending machines, out of habit. Don't tell Caspar!) If she spots Jim, she'll wave him over hurriedly. There's one street full of portals that she's anxious to look through first.

Jim is likewise bundled up against the cold, enough to withstand the chilly San Francisco winters, but he hardly seems to notice the temperature anyway. He's a man on a mission, pushing aside his melancholy attitude and redirecting his efforts towards the matter at hand.

He doesn't smile when he sees her, but he does nod in greeting. "Right. We're looking for a glass door." It's not actually glass, but it's the closest thing he knows she'd recognize, and time may be of the essence. "It has a... radiation symbol on it," he adds, a slight waver in his voice, one that he swiftly quashes. He can't think about it, not now. He doesn't know if her people use the same iconography as the Federation, so he has to be absolutely sure they're on the same page. "Looks sort of like a three-bladed fan disk."

No smile is fine. They have a serious task ahead of them and the sooner they can begin their search, the better.

She sips her coffee while Jim explains what sort of door to look for. The mention of a radiation symbol gets a brief look of surprise from her. Is that because of actual radiation, or is it some sort of decoy to turn away any nosy Nexus explorers? "We use that symbol, too," she says quietly, when he's done speaking. "I think I'll be able to spot it on our own, but... let's stay within visual range? That way we won't waste time if one of us finds it."

Having already lost one Jim, she doesn't want to lose another.

She won't find any argument from him here. "Agreed. If something happened to the ship, it might not be safe on the other side, so don't go through on your own, either." Jim is fairly certain he doesn't need to worry about that with her, but it never hurts to make sure before the unexpected occurs. Radiation poisoning is a horrible way to die, and he knows that far better than he'd like. Warp core breach, exposure to vacuum, even just plain old ordinary fire... there could be any number of hazards on the other side of the door.

She nods adamantly. No going through the door on her own, got it. If something's happened to the Enterprise, there's no telling what might be on the side.

With another sip of her coffee for fortitude, she gestures towards a nearby street that winds its way from the heart of the Plaza. "There are a lot of portals along that stretch. Should we each work a side and call out if we find anything?"

It's a place to start looking, anyway. Jim nods again, looking in the direction she indicated, eyeing it up for any potential problems with the search pattern. It looks straightforward enough, but... "If something happens and we do get separated somehow, I've got my PINpoint." One can never be too careful in this place; Jim has seen the streets shift around, seen the sky change in a matter of moments, been unable to find stores and touchstones that he'd visited before. It's not usually a problem. But he wants to take no chances either.

"I'll take the left side."

Adia pats her jacket pocket. "Me, too." She's never without in the Nexus, and it's only failed her a couple times. Although with Jim's disappearance, she's considering getting a spare for herself and Caspar.

"Sure." Left or right, it doesn't matter to her. She heads in that direction and efficiently begins checking on each portal that she passes. Some are tricky to identify, as they look identical to doors that lead to Nexus shops and homes, but her time in the Nexus has given her a feel for what makes a portal different from a regular door. A certain vibe that's been calling out more strongly to her ever since the Nightmare incident.

She's very good about staying in sight, although occasionally she needs to duck into an alley to double-check something. Some of the portals are stable and well-trafficked. Some give off a welcoming aura, and those she avoids like the plague. Any portal that encourages people to enter is a dangerous one, so far as she's concerned. Some portals waver like mirages, as if any moment they might blink out of existence.

But so far, no glass door with a radiation symbol.

Jim's search pattern is steady and methodical, assessing and dismissing each door as he passes. He doesn't bother to evaluate them for any further dangers, like Adia is doing; he only needs to know one thing, whether or not each door leads to the shining heart of the Enterprise.

What the plan will be if - when - they find it, well, he's still working on that.

He has a good long while to think on it though, traveling up and down the rows upon rows of streets, periodically checking to make sure Adia is still in sight, staying out in the open himself so she can track him too. Once or twice, he catches sight of a particularly reflective doorway, and his head snaps around to look at it more closely. But it's never the right one, never that deceptively simple portal into one of his own personal hells.

In an infinite Nexus, with infinite doors, Jim had not expected to find one specific portal so easily. And as time wears on, and the door continues to elude the seekers, it becomes more and more clear that this is going to be a bigger search than he'd hoped.

She knew it was a long shot when she suggested the search, but it's still disappointing to her that after a solid couple hours of looking for Jim's portal, they've come up with nothing. That could mean any number of things -- more likely than not, there are simply too many portals to sift through.

When she finally walks over to Jim, it is clear by the crestfallen expression on her face that she not found anything substantial. "I need to go home," she says sadly, her gaze turned down in apology. "There are some lab results I have to check on, and I was supposed to help Maggie with dinner. She'll know something's off if Caspar makes up excuses where I've gone..."

She feels terrible. This search was her idea in the first place, she didn't have to drag Jim into it. He has enough on his plate without having to worry about his alternate, too.

Nothing in Jim's expression or bearing hold any blame against her, nor even disappointment at her needing to leave. It's a daunting task, and both of them are only human. There's only so long that either of them can endure a lengthy search without result, emotionally as well as physically.

No, he does not think any less of her for calling it a day. And while he nods a little in agreement, his own time to spend here becoming more limited by the minute, there's a small spark in his eye that wasn't there before today, a smoldering ember waiting to be rekindled. Something he'd lost sight of after the Nightmare that had damn near swallowed him whole, slowly rising from the darkness and uncertainty that has weighed him down ever since.

Determination.

There comes a time when you have to fall back and regroup, to take a rest and resupply before setting out again. It's not surrender and it's not a retreat. It's taking a step back to breathe, before you start again. There is no such thing as a no-win scenario. Never has been. This is no different. It doesn't matter how long the search takes. It doesn't matter if it's all for nothing, if they find out that the other captain didn't make it, if they're too late to make a difference. At least they'll know. At least they tried.

He can't turn his back on this. He won't.

"It's getting late for me too. I'll come back tomorrow, pick up where we left off." He doesn't ask if she can return too, reading that guilt on her face, hardly wanting to add to that weight. He'll understand if she can't. But he'll gladly welcome any help she can give, another person to help shoulder the task, leaving the offer unspoken, open-ended, a silent question. Even if not tomorrow, even if her own responsibilities keep her from devoting so much time to such a massive search. Jim may not be able to either. But he'll keep trying when he can. As long as it takes to get an answer.

When she looks up, she's surprised to see the lack of disappointment. Even more so to see the glimmer of determination in Jim's eyes. It's not something she's seen in this Jim's eyes since Halloween -- and not something she's seen in the other Jim's since he returned from Felix's rescue.

This is the Jim she remembers. The kind of Captain who never gives up on his crew, who knows that taking a break is not the same as giving up. It's the same strength she's seen in her own world, the strength that pulled her people through near extinction and into a new home and a new peace.

Standing a little straighter, she replies, "Me too." If he's not about to quit looking for Jim's portal, then neither is she. She'll keep at it for as long as it takes, or until she has a better answer for what happened.

His small smile is one of mutual understanding, a silent agreement between them both to keep doing what they can, no matter how much or how little. James T. Kirk does not give up, no matter how close he's come before, no matter how impossible this task may seem. And if she wants to come with him, he would not even think of turning her away. Every set of eyes and every willing volunteer helps. No matter whether it's an entire search party, or just the two of them.

"Then I'll see you around tomorrow," he says, touching two fingers to his brow in a sloppy salute.

"Tomorrow," she agrees, returning his salute with a smile of her own. This isn't the first time she's taken on a seemingly hopeless task. Her track record is pretty good, all things considered.

Her PINpoint is already in her hand, so there's no need to wait. She takes a good look around, noting where she left off her search. There's no guarantee that the landmarks will remain stable, but it gives her a general sense of where in the Nexus she is. "Good luck, Jim. And thanks for coming."

She teleports back to her cabin on Atlantis, determined to return when she can and resume her search. Or get some answers, whichever comes first.

He’s had little contact with Jim since the last time they spoke. The occasional text, just to make sure Jim knows he’s still listening. Stratos hasn’t sent him back on duty and Felix is barely venturing into the Nexus, but he’s not so blind as to make the same mistake twice.

Still, he knows he’s taken too long since his birthday. He’s spent so long cross-legged on his bed furs, the bottle of brandy forgotten in front of him, staring at that note in the candle-light of his room. Every day he feels more himself, more human… but something is still hanging over him. Something he can’t shake and can’t even articulate to his brother or uncle.

It’s the impending turn of the year that finally pushes him beyond his fears. Beyond his lethargic apathy. Whatever the state of his soul, he knows he can’t abandon Jim. And these days of all days, he knows Jim needs him as much as Felix needs to hear the captain’s voice.

Needs to know he’s going to be okay.

Jim,

There’s so much I need to say, my love, but I know what this time is to you.

No matter what, if you want me, I’ll be there.

Felix

He sends the message and exhales in relief – only to snatch the phone up again to read the return message. His heart stops, and time seems to freeze with it. He can only hear the pounding in his ears as he dashes into the hall. He knows he’ll get his uncle’s attention the moment he starts clattering things in the kitchen, the laboratory, the cupboards. He doesn’t answer when Terentius calls out his name. Just bolts back into his room, stuffing every tool he could think of into a sack.

“Felix!” His uncle is slow to make it down the stairs, but there’s urgency in the way he rattles the door. Twice as much when he realizes it’s locked. “Felix, what are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jim,” he says, not caring if he speaks loud enough to be heard. He slings the sack over his shoulder and sends a short message to Stratos. “I have to go, uncle!”

“Felix, open the godsdamned door!” He hears the door get pounded again and knows it’ll be broken open when he returns. It’s a very distant thought before he disappears.

The Enterprise can’t be reached, and there’s only one more way he knows to access Jim’s realm.

The farmhouse is cold when Felix arrives, the temperature only being set high enough to stave off freezing pipes and broken technology during the long Iowa winter. Outside the yard is a brilliant untouched field of white in every direction Felix can see. Everything here appears to be intact. Jim's world still clearly exists.

It's Jim himself who is gone. There's no sign of him here and no sign that he's been here in some time. In fact, the last time he would have been here...well. Felix might not want to think about that too carefully. Even if he does, no one in this empty house will fault him for having a panic attack and needing a moment or ten to get himself together again.

The throw rug in Jim's living room has been tossed over the couch and that piece of furniture has been pushed back into the kitchen damn near to give Felix space to work. To draw his runes and circles onto the floor, prepare whatever spells he needs to find out where James T. Kirk has gotten himself off to this time.

While he works the house's communication terminal blinks a steady blue light just off to Felix's right with its new message.

He's made a bit of a mess, to be honest. It wasn't easy to get his thoughts straight and decide exactly what he needed to do, what he was going to draw, plan it all out. But it's nearly done. Everything's drawn out, with whatever was at hand, charcoal and ink and some markers he found in the drawers here. There's blood smeared around the kitchen sink and on the soul gems set out around the circle. Jim's realm doesn't lend itself to spellcasting. To do something like this - something he's not well used to himself - he needs power.

One more blinking light in the house doesn't get his attention at first. In this realm, he's learned, everything is shiny and nothing smokes, there are all sorts of things that light up and most of them make beeping whistling sounds at intervals. It's only when he stands back to cast a nervous eye over his ritual setup that he notices. That's distracting. He needs absolute focus to get this right. If it fails he'll have to fill more soul gems and try again and who knows what could happen to Jim if he delays?

He steps carefully over his paraphernalia to the terminal, tapping at the keys. It's been a while since he played around with this device (under Jim's supervision, to prevent awkward accidents). Generally the thing to do is give the computer whatever it wants and then it will stop flashing... oh, it's a message.

A message. With Jim's name on it.

He moves to bring it up so fast his fingers slip on the keys and he has to do it twice.

It took hours to make sure the signal was secure. Uhura would have been able to do it a fuck of a lot faster, but this isn't something Jim's mentioning to any of them. Especially in case it doesn't work. He'd considered what sort of message to leave for hours before he'd started working on opening a secure channel. Leaving details or mentioning the Nexus was right out for any number of reasons, so this is the safest way.

Jim keys in the sequence for his home in Iowa and waits for the prompt to send a message. It's short, painfully so. Just a frequency for whoever finds the message to call him back on. That way he'll know who he's talking to before he says anything he shouldn't. It's the safest way.

This isn't the sort of thing he can clue his counterpart in on, even if it means staying here.

Jim sends the message and steps away from the terminal. He hopes it will be enough.

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Going Dark [The Beginning]

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