ad astra per aspera

Nyota Uhura had spent most of her life learning languages and their nuances, cadences, the big and small differences that marked them as unique. She thought she knew every language there was to learn in the Federation, carrying around an arsenal of dialects and a vocabulary that outmatched any universal translator.

But this--this was different. There was no words in any language for the sight before her:

Leonard McCoy, on his knees before an altar, hands broken and bruised from fighting his way into the chamber, eyes red-rimmed, face ashen and mouth twisted into something too heartbroken to name. His voice was raw, just raspy enough to hear over the rushing water beyond, the same water that was too charged to let their transporters beam them up. "Please. Please let me save him. Please. He's all I have."

Spock held her tightly as she trembled with one arm, the other hanging loosely as a result of the fight that ensued to get them to this point. It seemed unfair that she was so cocooned in her bondmate’s arms, as she looked away from the way their CMO reached with stretched fingers but couldn't touch their captain. 

Kirk was inches away, set aside like a discarded toy. It was hard to tell how much blood he had lost because the water pooling around him had mixed with it, causing rivulets to run down the stone floor, just touching the away team's feet. The security team twitched but didn't move. Their phasers didn't work in the room anyway, having powered down the minute they cleared the stone clearing’s walls.  "Please, he's all I have." Leonard said and it wouldn't have been loud enough for them to hear but everything in the space echoed, enough that the remnants of noise remained minutes after, an unearthly, heartbreaking echo. Or maybe it was just that she kept replaying the wet thunk Jim had made when he'd fallen from the cliff above, after they rushed over the rubble of Leonard's clawing efforts to get into the ceremonial space. It was supposed to be a ritual to test the strength of the federation before the planet's delegation would agree to the terms of a union. But the leadership of the people had poisoned the delegation, blaming the Federation for years of strife. They wanted to make an example of the Federation scum and from early negotiations, knew that Jim Kirk was more than a Captain but a symbol, and the perfect target to make a point to the group that they believed exploited and ignored them for so long.

"Please." Their CMO’s voice broke, a rasp that carved out every inch of her. 

Uhura had no words for this. Nothing in her vast repertoire of phrases that could placate or persuade. She could only shut her eyes and try to pluck out the uneasy breaths that came from Jim, hope that Sulu and Scotty could figure out a way to get them, all of them, out of this. The logical thing, she knew, would be for them to leave. To get back into Transporter range and come back with reinforcements for the Captain. But when Spock had suggested it, and she knew that it pained him to do so, Leonard had nearly swung at him, stopping himself only because to pause from the work digging at the rocky barrier was to lose precious moments away from Jim, even as the security officers were scrambling to break through the wall too. 

It wasn't enough. Her mouth moved in prayer, any she could recall, as Leonard began a litany of "Please, please, please." She had never lost a language, never wanted to unlearn new words and ways of speaking. But this, this grief, this desperation, was something she hoped she could never excel at, a proficiency only the most unlucky could have. 

“I’m sorry.” 

It was quiet. Almost lost among the harsh breathing of his crew around them but apparently the delegation heard the Captain from even the cliff above.

Their leader’s tone was disbelieving. They didn’t think he was alive, let alone conscious. 

It wasn’t clear who Jim was apologizing too. The delegation? His away team? His husband?

But as he coughed wetly and said again, “I’m sorry,” the air around Jim denoting the invisible barrier that had swallowed the phaser hits from the security team aimed at the delegation and blasted them back into the rock surrounding them, shimmered and fell. 

Leonard wasted no time but dove, scooping Jim up and frantically beginning his ministrations, whispering softly to Jim as he worked, foreheads touching briefly before he turned and barked an order at the nearest security guard. 

Uhura followed the figures of the delegation as they turned away from the cliff and made their exit and Nyota, never one to waste words whispered a thank you to whoever was listening. 

From: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                  

To: Lieutenant Montgomery Scott <[email protected]>

Subject: Cashing In

Hi Mr. Scott, 

My name is George Kirk. I got your name from Gaila--she said you owed her big time after she helped you find Admiral Archer’s missing beagle that one time? Sorry she couldn’t help you again. I hope it’s not too lonely on Delta Vega. 

I’m writing because Gaila said you were the best hacker around and had an “ambiguous moral compass” (her words, not mine) that might be able to help me in a project I’m working on. 

It’s about revenge. 

I’m not sure if you get the news all the way on Delta Vega or if you recognize my last name. It’s in the news a lot. Sometimes for good reasons but usually, especially lately, for bad. Someone leaked confidential documents about my dad and now the press and tabloids and a whole bunch of nosy turd buckets are bothering us. 

All the adults say that there’s nothing we can do but let it blow over, as if it was just a dust storm or bad weather. But this is serious and scary and my dad doesn’t deserve it. 

So if you’re interested--can you send me an encrypted comm link? I’d love to talk more. If not, I understand. 

Thanks, Mr. Scott. 

George Kirk 

From: Lieutenant Montgomery Scott <[email protected]>               

To: George Kirk <[email protected]>     

Subject: Re: Cashing In

Well, hello. You must be the lass Gaila was telling me about. I’d be honored to help. I’ll send the link in a sec. 

Cheers! Scotty

From: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                    

To:Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                   

Subject: So...

I knew about Tarsus long before I was supposed to.

But my parents sat down and told me a few days ago, when all the news broke and the footage was everywhere. I’ve never seen them so...rattled. Like they were worried about talking to me. My dad seemed so distant about it. And all I wanted to do was curl up next to him and forget about it all. 

I understand that we record history so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again and we teach it so that we can learn from the past but why do we have to keep bringing up horrible memories and focusing on the survivors like they’re some sort of famous pariah (this is my word of the day, by the way. It means outcast). A reporter stopped my dad on his way from the gym at the academy. It was the first time he’d been out without a hoodie over his head or a security detail and the guy harassed him and then sold the vid to a tabloid. 

Captain Pike got so mad. No reporters have been allowed on campus without a permit! I’m sending him a thank you card and my favorite chocolates. 

But yeah, it’s pretty bad. And they haven’t told me everything. Just that a bad man hurt a lot of people when my dad was little. And that he and a few survivors are all that’s left and that sometimes people get fixated on it. 

I think they downplayed it a lot. Because people at school have been asking questions. Amber Carmino and Winston Unger found me at lunch where I was reading in the library. “Is it true your dad ate other people to survive?” “Is it true your dad had to kill people?” “Is it true Starfleet felt bad about it so they let him into the academy?”

I got sent home because I shoved my table into Winston and threw at Amber. I’m not getting suspended because no one was hurt but I have to see the school therapist. Whatever. 

Do you have bullies? Have you ever got in trouble? I doubt it, Ms. Honor Society Vice President.

George

From: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>    

To: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                            

Subject: Re: So...

Whoa. I don’t usually condone violence and think it’s an immature reaction but I wish I was there so I could have helped you push the table into Amber and Winston. They sound like ignorant bullies. I hope they got in trouble. 

I’m glad to hear that the President’s renewal vows have been taking up the news’ attention, though they need to stop harping on their dresses.  I also wrote my local news station to say that their constant attention on your dad and Tarsus was disrespectful and played out. 

It’s kind of weird because ever since my dad called my mom for help with the reporter and stuff, they’ve been civil? I hope it stays that way. But knowing them...it won’t. 

I have a nemesis named Cynthia Bachenwheeler. We’re neck and neck for the fifth spot in our class rankings and she’s a horrible, mean person who fakes her volunteer hours for the honor society and said I was going to hell because I didn’t go to church enough and my parents got divorced. But she’s just upset because I got voted the Vice President and she wasn’t voted in at all. 

What were you reading in the library when they bothered you? I sometimes spend my free periods at the library if my orchestra teacher isn’t available or the music practice rooms are booked. 

I’m currently reading a biography on Artemisia Gentileschi and Maria Anna Mozart. They’re amazing and strong and brave in their own ways. I wish I was more like them. Or you.

Love, 

Jo

From: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>    

To: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                            

Subject: Re: Re: So...

I’m not brave. I cried into my pillow a lot these past few nights. And I’ve been hiding in the library from everyone because as much as I would want to throw books at people who stare at me or say weird things about my dad, I don’t want to get kicked out. 

Amber and Winston had to write apology letters to me.  Amber’s parents said that I was overreacting and being too sensitive and I should get expelled for pushing their daughter. Winston’s grandparents called my mom to apology too--his grandpa knew my grandpa once upon a time and was really upset that Winston treated me that way. 

Sometimes when I’m bored I read one of my favorite books in the library at lunch. None of my friends are scheduled for lunch with me (a conspiracy, I think because the lunch monitors couldn’t handle us all together). So this time I was reading The Remarkable Journey of Coyote Sunrise. It’s about a girl who travels around America in a school bus with her dad and meets all these interesting people who help her get back home after five years. Her relationship with her dad kinda reminds me of me and my dad. I love it a lot. 

Anyway, after school I get to go to self-defense class. My dad signed me up and we convinced my mom to let me go. I think she’s afraid I’ll learn to start fights instead of stopping them. :D

I’m thinking of starting a countdown until camp. Just two months!! I can’t wait to meet in person, even though I feel like I’ve known you forever. 

Love, 

George

Part one, Part two

Continued from here.

From: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                    To: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                    Subject: You’ll Never Guess What Happened

I just got to spend the weekend with my dad! And your dad!

So, your dad is totally amazing. I’m sure you already knew this but I need to tell you what happened yesterday afternoon.

And I guess I should also say sorry your mom didn’t let you come to family weekend. I know you would have had an amazing time!

But anyway, your dad totally saved my dad’s life!

So my dad’s pretttty much allergic to everything. My mom says she’s grateful I didn’t take after my dad even though I am kinda allergic to a few things. Bones (I get to call him this too!) says that he should write a medical paper on my dad because they discover like a new thing he’s allergic to every day.

So, we were all at the camp cookout. And this guy Gary--who is a total asshole like your mom’s fiance--was making the food and your dad told him to please make a separate meal after he cleaned off the grill because he was making skewers with peppers and my dad’s allergic to peppers. (I just pretend I am because I think they’re gross).

But Gary--who, your dad said is a few peaches short of a pie--didn’t do that and some of the pepper juices got on my dad’s burger and he had an episode!

He started choking and his face swelled up and it was soooo scary.

Your dad jumped into action so quickly! He apparently always carries an epi-pen on him and he stabbed my dad in the leg with it. And then the paramedics came and dad and Bones and I got to ride in a transport.

He’s still in the hospital because they have to keep him under observation and he had to breathe with a tube overnight.

I’m kinda freaking out but your dad has been really nice. He made me a milkshake when we got back to their apartment and this morning before we went to go visit my dad, he made the best pancakes. He said he used to make you pancakes all the time. I’m sorry you couldn’t be there.

George Kirk

From: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                    To: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                    Subject: Friendly Head’s Up

Hi, 

So, this might be the weirdest thing I’ve ever done and you might think I’m crazy but here it goes.

Our dads are meant to be together. 

My dad’s name is Jim Kirk. He’s a second year command track cadet at the Academy. Your dad and my dad are roommates. Dad says he’s the only sane person around and that your dad saved his life like a million times. My mom says my dad has the mental capacity of a twelve-year-old boy and is as accident prone as one too. 

Oh and don’t worry. My parents aren’t together. Mom says dad was an unfortunate mistake but that I’m the best thing that happened to her. She didn’t tell my dad that I existed for like twelve years. Don’t know why I just wrote that. Oh well. 

I’ve never met your dad but he seems nice from what my dad says. Actually, he’s pretty much all he talks about. He calls him Bones for some reason. “Georgie, Bones told me the coolest joke.” Or “George, do you know what Bones and I did?”

And before you ask, because everyone does, yes. I was named after my grandpa and hero George Kirk not the state. I like my name. For a while, it was the only connection to my dad I had.

Anyway, do you wanna help me get our dads together?

Let me know!

George Kirk

From: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                      To: George Kirk <[email protected]>                               Subject: Re: Friendly Head’s Up

George,

It’s beyond weird that you’re emailing me. We’re practically strangers! 

My dad’s mentioned your dad too. He usually calls him an idiot or infant or kid. I think it’s in an affectionate way? I don’t know, grownups are weird. 

I’m not sure its a good idea to get our dads together. My dad is still upset from my parent’s divorce and he has a lot of work to do while at the Academy. This is supposed to be a fresh start for him. He doesn’t need any distractions. And from what I’ve heard...Jim Kirk is a distraction. 

Sincerely, 

Joanna Beth McCoy

Honor Society Vice President, Woodward Academy

First Chair Viola, Woodward Academy Orchestra 

From: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                   To: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                   Subject: Re: Re: Friendly Head’s Up

What do you mean, he’s a distraction?

From: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                      To: George Kirk <[email protected]>                               Subject: Re: Re: Re: Friendly Head’s Up

My mom’s fiancé Clay says your dad will probably drop out of the Academy. If he’s not kicked out first. And the tabloids report that he failed some important test that all command track cadets need to pass to graduate? That sucks! 

But you’re lucky! Your dad might not go to space. I wish my dad was back in Georgia. He doesn’t need to be a doctor on a spaceship! He could run my grandpa’s old clinic. It would be safer. Don’t you worry about your dad?

Sincerely,

Joanna Beth McCoy

Honor Society Vice President, Woodward Academy

First Chair Viola, Woodward Academy Orchestra

From: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                    To: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                    Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Friendly Head’s Up

Wow, your mom’s fiancé sounds like an asshole. My dad WILL NOT drop out of the Academy or get kicked out. He’s really smart. Like smarter than you can imagine. He’s going to be the youngest captain in Starfleet history.

I’m sorry I emailed you. It was a waste of time. 

And I don’t worry about my dad. He’s got good people watching out for him. Like your dad. My dad says that he and your dad will be on a ship together as CMO (that’s Chief Medical Officer) and Captain one day. Sorry your dad isn’t coming back to Georgia but it’s all been decided already. And when I get to high school, I’ll be able to spend a summer on the ship with them. That’s pretty freaking cool, if you ask me. 

George Kirk

From: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                      To: George Kirk <[email protected]>                               Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Friendly Head’s Up

George, 

What do you mean it’s already been decided??

Dad said that if anything he was planning on getting a job at a space station or colony a few warps from earth. I know nothing about him being on a ship. He hates space! Your dad was probably telling you what he hoped would happen. 

And how is it that you get to go on a ship as a high schooler? Isn’t that dangerous? Won’t you interrupt the ship’s flow or something?

P.S. Yeah, Clay is a REAL a-hole. 

Joanna Beth McCoy

Honor Society Vice President, Woodward Academy

First Chair Viola, Woodward Academy Orchestra

From: George Kirk <[email protected]>                                   To: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                  Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Friendly Head’s Up

I told you they were meant to be together. That means that when they graduate, they’ll end up on a ship together. Dad says that Bones doesn’t trust another CMO to take care of him and also Dad promised your dad that he would make sure nothing bad happened to your dad in space, as long as they were together. 

And I’m a part of an accelerated Starfleet Academy Prep program during the summer. It’s VERY selective.  It’s like camp but cooler. We do drills, take flying lessons, communication courses and even get to shadow a Starfleet lieutenant! You should see if you can join! You would be able to spend more time with your dad. 

George

From: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                      To: Doctor Leonard McCoy <[email protected]>     Subject: Starfleet Camp?

Dear Daddy, 

I tried calling but you didn’t answer your comm. I hope I’m not bothering you. 

Did you know that Jim (your roommate) has a daughter my age? We’ve been talking...she seems pretty eccentric. 

Anyway, she mentioned a Starfleet Camp that she was a part of and it looked cool. I would love to visit you in San Francisco this summer!

Do you think you can send over an application on a padd? I tried to access it but it’s only available to Stafleet members. I guess you have to be referred?

Thanks, Daddy. Love you!

Xoxox 

Jo 

From: Doctor Leonard McCoy <[email protected]>            To: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>           Subject: Re: Starfleet Camp?

Jo Jo! 

How are you, Darlin’? You minding your Mama?

Sorry I missed your call, sweet pea. I just finished up a shift at the Academy clinic. Just about to finish up some homework. Can you believe your daddy gets homework just like you?

Are you sure you want to go to Starfleet Camp, Jo? What happened to the performing arts camp you went to last year? I would love for you to come visit but you don’t need to go to camp for that. Although, it would be nice for you to spend some time with Georgia. I think you two would get along--just like Jim and I did (even if we agree they’re both eccentric. Don’t tell him I said this, but I’d go crazy if it weren’t for the kid. Keeps things interesting around here.)

I’ll call you tomorrow afternoon after my classes. We can talk more about camp, okay, sweetheart?

Love, 

Your daddy

From: Jocelyn McCoy <[email protected]>                                        To: Doctor Leonard McCoy<[email protected]>    Subject: Camp

Leonard, what in the hell did you put into Jo’s head? A Starfleet camp? Are you out of your mind? You can barely stand the idea of a cross-country flight on a shuttle and now you want our daughter to train to go to space? Like she’s some cannon fodder? 

You’ve got to put a stop to this. You do not get to make me the bad guy here. 

From: Jocelyn McCoy <[email protected]>                                        To: Doctor Leonard McCoy <[email protected]>  Subject: Re: Camp

Jesus H. Christ, Joce. She’s my daughter too. And she’s the one that requested the camp. I never brought it up. Our agreement was that she would spent part of the summer with me. If that means she wants to attend camp while here, then so be it. Let her have fun. 

From: Joanna McCoy <[email protected]>                      To: George Kirk <[email protected]>                               Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Friendly Head’s Up

Guess who’s coming to camp? Thanks for letting me know about it. 

And I finally get to meet your dad too. Have you met my dad yet?

“You know, Bones, you could just let me stuff a bunch of things in boxes and we can spend our time doing other things in the bedroom.” Jim said from the closet.

Bones ducked as a shoe came flying at his head and landed in a pile of the unpaired.

“And have to share my clothes with you because you under packed? Not a chance.”

“But you like it when I share your clothes.” Jim said, meeting Bones eyes in the mirror as he held up a collection of belts.

“I like it when we don’t have to send the clothes to laundry every two days because you change more than a pubescent boy.” Bones grabbed a shirt thrown haphazardly onto the mile of Jim’s clothes. He moved it to the keep pile.

“You know that one has the stain in it, right?” Jim asked, as he tried on a cowboy hat Joanna had sent him for his birthday.

“That was the shirt you were wearing when we met.”

Jim wrinkled his nose at Bones. “You remember that?”

“‘Course. Make sure the leather jacket comes with us too.”

Jim snorted. “As you wish.”

“We’ll find an occasion for you to wear it. Trust me.” Bones smirked. “And the cowboy hat is coming too.”

Jim laughed and tossed it onto the keep pile. “Why don’t you get in here and just pick my civvies? Since you have such opinions.”

Bones did. Jim left good in everything, the asshole. But there were a few outfits that Bones couldn’t live in space without seeing Jim in. The outfit that he had worn on their first date, when they’d proposed to each other, the day he came home from the hospital after Khan, the soft and worn pair of jeans that rode just at his hips. The grey sweater that complimented his blue eyes. The white dress shirt he wore to diplomatic dinners and let Bones unbutton with his teeth. Bones was making sure it all came with them.

“Stay where you are. You gotta model some stuff for me. Gotta make sure it still fits.”

Jim pressed a kiss to the side of Bones chin as he walked by. “Only if you do the same.”

And Jim thought this packing was going to be a chore. Bones grinned and reached into the closet, finding the plaid flannel Jim usually wore in Iowa under a grey tank that showed ups his shoulders and the freckles that dusted them.

He handed it to Jim. “You first, darlin’."