bigapplesauce | Starships were meant to fly [closed]

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Starships were meant to fly [closed]

Following the events on Sarpeidon, he'd been relieved that the next few days had been relatively quiet. Their next assignment had involved checking progress of a new colony station on planet Bilaren. It looks as if the colonists' efforts at growing crops has been successful, which is promising. In the next five years, more people might be able to join the colony, and humanity can spread a little further out into the stars.

At the end of shift, he is smiling as he makes his way back to his quarters.

And then- a lurch. Like an explosion on the ship.

His body slams down hard against the ground. Bright light temporally whites out his vision and he rolls halfway down a hill before he can gain purchase and stop himself. With one hand he reaches out, noting grass. He's been transported somewhere. He pushes himself roughly up and takes a hurried breath- an oxygen rich environment. When he turns, he squints against the harsh sunlight to see tall buildings visible beyond the trees.

He needs to figure out where he is, but first things first. The most important thing to him is establishing that the ship and its crew are safe. He flips open his communicator. "Spock. Come in. Come in, Spock." No response. "Enterprise, come in. Come in, this is Captain Kirk." No response again. He frowns at the device. He's not even sure if it's working. As he replaces the communicator, he finds himself looking up at the sky, as if it might be possible to see the Enterprise circling the planet from here.

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She saw it all, and remembers everything. The Rift took her back, and this time there was no one to pull her out. There never will be again. She knows that, and doesn't think about it, because she can't.

How long has she been here, adrift, alone, incorporeal and silent?

Does it even matter?

She'd forget it all if she could. Every inch.

But she remembers Greta. She remembers dancing somewhere, some dream. The memory of solid contact, smells, everything, like it was real. May as well have been. She prays Greta remembered the dream and hates her for it, so she won't miss her. She knows that is unlikely.

She's sorry. Sorry she left without saying. Sorry she can't make good on the promise to take her home. Try as she might she can't any of it aloud. No words without breath, without a voice to speak them. Only awareness. The Rift must have considered her a true threat, to torment her like this. A workable legacy, even if she's the only one who knows it.

And then, very suddenly, everything comes back, rushing up to her as she falls facedown on the grass, every nerve screaming, every sense overwhelmed by sudden noise and smell, cold and light, oh god, oh god, why is it doing this to her?

She hoists herself up. Central Park, of fucking course, is it hers, is it hers from before, or some other one? Her arm - it's back too, back like it was before, like nothing happened. It broke her and now it's made her whole.

Not quite.

She doesn't remember anymore, not everything. There are gaps, she can feel them, pieces of herself that are blurred and hard to look at. Ripped out like that, some of her didn't make it. Probably intentional. Once again she's been toyed with.

She remembers Greta. Greta feels full. Nothing missing there. That, at least, is something.

No phone, no idea what universe this is, or when. This is too much and she wasn't ready. She falls back into a kneel and curls over like she's about to pray; hugs herself, shaking, not noticing the man just beside her.

It's odd, seeing the same thing that just happened to him, but from the other side. A hole opens up in the middle of the sky, and a woman falls out. His first instinct is to take a step toward the portal, but if he'd learned anything from Sarpeidon, it's that he has no idea where or when such a portal would lead.

He doesn't have time to consider the possibility further. The rift in space is gone and the woman at his feet has curled up on herself in a worrying way.

He bends down to kneel at her side and tentatively places a hand at her shoulder, hoping to pull her attention without frightening her. "Miss? Are you alright?"

He doesn't frighten her exactly; she had some idea that there was someone approaching, and why wouldn't they, if they just saw her appear like that. The hand on her shoulder makes her jerk away, and she looks up, half-ready to snap at him for the unsolicited touch, but she knows his face, and the anger dies down quick.

"You," she says, faintly stunned. What the hell was his name? He was a ship captain, wasn't he? Grasping fruitlessly for something to call him, she finally settles on, "Otter guy!"

"Otter guy?" He takes half a step back, startled by her sudden outburst. "No-" And then, he remembers.

"No, yes!" He says, breaking his own train of thought and pointing a decisive finger in her direction. "I remember. It was that dream. There was the otter that belonged to me somehow and you...you had a large bird of some kind. A raven?" She had warned him that something like this might happen, hadn't she? He'd had Mr. Spock take sensor readings that morning, but they'd found nothing. He'd figured then that it had just been his imagination.

It seems, now, that it was anything but.

He thinks for a moment longer before he finds the information that he's trying to remember. "Miss Asadi, isn't it?" He holds out a hand to her. "Let me help you up."

Edited 2016-01-23 02:13 (UTC)

Oh thank fuck he remembers. That makes this easier. And it confirms a few things, or, well, almost confirms them. Close enough that she can credibly theorize. She struggles to her feet, taking his hand belatedly. "Good - thanks - good memory you got there," she says. "Mine's not what it used to be. You're a captain, I remember that much."

Now that she's upright and on her own feet, she can almost convince herself that everything's normal and she is fine.

"You can call me Iman," she says, looking around, absent and disjointed. "I'm reasonably certain I know where we are but I've been off-world for a while, I have to... confirm it." She takes an unsteady step away from him, beckoning roughly. "Come on. It's too cold to just wander around out here. Come with me."

She's right. It is cold out, and she seems to know way more than he does about this place, but he still feels unsure about this. He glances back at the spot where he fell through into this universe, urging the fissure to reopen while he can still walk back through, or at least try to understand what's happened to him. If he had a tricorder he'd take readings, but he doesn't.

He frowns, flips his communicator closed, and jogs to catch up to Miss Asadi. "Where are we going?"

"To my apartment," she says. "Well. I hope it's still my apartment. We're sort of up shit creek if not. See - " She reaches back and grabs his arm to steer him onto the path, maneuvering them toward the closest train station. "This is New York City, either 2013 or really close to it. It's a different universe from the one you know. So this is not your personal past, present, or future." Probably wouldn't be his future no matter what, if he does space travel like she recalls. "A sentient, quite possibly sapient rift drags us all in seemingly at random and leaves us here. There are people and aliens and divine beings from all over the place and not one of us has any idea how to get back."

She stops again, stopping him with her, and turns back to meet his eyes. "The rift brought you here, like I said it might. But I can't be certain here is the same here I knew, because the rift snapped me back up and chewed on me for I don't know how long. It does that sometimes, if you piss it off enough. So we're going to where I think my apartment is, and if my key still works then I know where we are, and I can help you settle in. Okay?"

This is not really the kindest way to welcome someone to the fold, but it's probably the best he's going to get under the circumstances. Without waiting for a response she turns back and hauls him to the subway entrance.

He nods to her description, taking in the information. It's more or less what he'd remembered from what she'd told him in the dream, but being here- really being here - is more than he could have imagined.

"Divine beings?" That's a surprising addition, but it's a question that he immediately disregards. Miss Asadi doesn't seem in a question-answering mood, and he can ask later when she doesn't seem like she's in such a hurry.

As she pulls him down into the subway (a functional underground rail system!) he can't help looking around himself in fascination. Even if he is in some alternate dimension, it's very similar to what he knows of life at this time. "New York City at the start of the twenty-first century-" He says, more to himself that to her.

His words draw the attention of a couple walking in the opposite direction. They're looking right at him, so he says hello in the friendliest voice he can manage with someone tugging at his elbow. They give him an odd look and keep going, seeming like they'd rather talk to each other about him than actually meet him. Maybe it's the clothes. He does rather stand out here.

"Miss- Iman," he corrects himself, switching to the name she'd asked to be called. He has a million questions, but she's moving a mile a minute. He's not going to get any good answers from her while they're still on the move. He'll have to settle for a more innocuous question for the moment and reserve the rest for when they're on the train.

As she pulls him past a subway map, he pulls back to look it over for a few more moments before catching up with her again. "Do you have much experience with these trains?"

Oh lord, he's greeting the wildlife. She could tell him not to, but what's the point? Let them stare. They are both very attractive and on the move, after all. Plenty to stare about.

She puts up with him pulling away, as well. Let him gawp at things. This is all very new to him. "I do," she says, recovering his hand. He doesn't really need her to lead him around, she suspects, but it is probably around rush hour and you never know. It's comforting to have a hand to hold onto. "My universe is actually very similar to this one, so most of it's the same. Pop culture has been the biggest difference. We had some more significant technical advances where I'm from, but these folks are catching up fast." She leads him through increasing tides of people to the ticketing machine. She has her keys and her wallet, not her phone. She's pretty sure she didn't have her keys or her wallet in the rift, but who's to say? Thanks for small favors, rift. You asshole.

Her card still works, ridiculously, and she buys him a metrocard with a modest sum. "These trains aren't a good example. They've been around for ages. Mostly they're dirty and loud."

She hands him his metrocard. "Hang onto that," she says. "I'll show you what to do with it." She leads him over to the turnstile for a demonstration.

He takes the card and turns it over in his hands a couple times, feeling oddly thrilled at the prospect of using it. It's like up till this moment he's been an observer and when he uses this, it will mean that he's a participant in this time. The practical application however, is a little harder than he'd expected. It takes him a couple swipes before the machine will permit him entrance, but he smiles when he finally gets it right, and pushes himself through to the other side of the turnstile.

He doesn't have any pockets in which to place the card, so he does as Miss Asadi suggested and holds onto it. With his other hand, he reaches out and takes her hand again. He doesn't want to get distracted and be left behind. "All of this is...centuries ago, for me, but it seems like more." In his universe, things are supposed to have advanced more by this time. All of this seems so primitive by comparison. "What year do you come from? In your home universe."

"Same time," says Iman. "A nice convenient 2013. But then, I basically sidestepped anyway. I think I had the distinction of getting the rift's attention on my own." She gets them to the platform they want and stops to wait, gazing into the dark tunnel. "I started in Central Park, 2013, and I came to a different Central Park and a different 2013. Just like I meant to. Only I couldn't go back. That was not part of the plan."

She laughs ruefully and shakes her head. It's not funny at all, really. "That all seems so long ago now. It's been... I guess some months? Not sure what date we're on, but we'll find out soon enough."

"I left Stardate fifty forty-five point seven. That's twenty-two...sixty-nine, in the old time." He takes his hand from hers, since they've stopped for the moment. He flips his pass over again in his hands, head dipping to read the text on the reverse side. It seems to be some sort of advertisement, which is confusing to him.

"I had sensor readings taken of the surrounding area after our shared dream. There didn't seem to be any unusual results, but my crew knows the circumstances of the scan. They'll know what to look for now." He doesn't know how long he's going to be stuck here, but he does know that his crew will do all they can to get him back where he belongs. From this side...he's not sure what he can do. He'd been an engineer, but he doesn't know what he can do with unfamiliar two hundred year old technology. Spock could put something together, but he doesn't have Spock's skill for technical improvisation.

He smiles a little to himself as he glances down to where the train should be appearing. The last time he was in a situation like this, Spock was grumbling about being forced into making a mnemonic memory circuit using 'stone knives and bearskins', but he managed to get them home all the same.

Stardate, huh. That was sure some numbers. Under normal circumstances she'd be asking just how that works, but right now she can't really be bothered.

"Well, hopefully they'll find something," she says tiredly, not bothering to mention that his are not the only people who have the supposed means of searching and actually turning up results. And so far, whether or not results have come, no one's had any luck. For fuck's sake, some of the most brilliant scientists present actually managed to escape and haven't found a way back or even to send a message. What hope does that give them?

What use is hope, after all that's been taken away.

She manages not to verbalize any of this doom and gloom. She nods at the train as it rolls in loudly, and leads him on, snagging a pair of seats so she can slouch.

"I still don't remember what I'm supposed to be calling you," she says after a moment. "Unless you're fine with 'otter guy'. Otto for short."

His smile shifts into a smirk as he sits down next to Miss Asadi. "Otto. Hm, you know, I kind of like that. New universe, new me. What do you think?" Once seated, he leans forward in his seat a little so that he can get a better look at the inside of the car. It's not a particularly thrilling sight, but he likes looking at all the different people and, as they start going, the klack and rattle of the car on the rails makes him feel like he's on some sort of roller coaster. He lets her request wait for the moment, taking in the surroundings instead.

He's continuing to get odd looks, which eventually dulls his enjoyment of the whole experience. He's not unused to being the subject of attention in a room, but those are usually rooms in which he has control over the situation. This is different. He feels out of place. A child holding his mother's hand stares at Kirk without subtlety. Kirk meets his eyes once and smiles, but the child doesn't smile back, so Kirk dips his eyes away and looks somewhere else.

When he finally sits back again, he extends his hand to her in belated greeting and gives her his best diplomatic smile. "James Kirk. Thank you for your help. I appreciate it very much."

Edited 2016-01-29 23:16 (UTC)

She chuckles softly at his joke, but then as he fails to respond for a few moments she wonders if it even was a joke. She's not sure she can bear the responsibility of re-branding a new arrival. She watches him make unsuccessful eye contact with a child before he finally turns to her and answers.

She manages a warm smile and takes his hand.

"Right," she says. "You're welcome. Normally I'd be better at this, but... my circumstances a little weird right now." It's as much a preemptive apology as it is a present one.

His smiles becomes a little more genuine as he shakes her hand, and then he grins, "Weirder than falling through an interdimensional portal and landing in New York City?"

Something in her face changes and he reevaluates his judgement about how she must be feeling- He'd figured that this is something of a return to status quo for her, but maybe that's not quite it. Maybe her coming back here is the last thing she wanted.

He takes his hand back, and his brow furrows. "Are you alright, Iman?"

Weirder than that, yeah. She doesn't bother to answer, but it doesn't matter, her expression shifts and he sees it. The question is kind and kindly uttered, but that doesn't make it any easier to bear. She shuts her eyes briefly.

"Not really," she says.

She should probably say more than that. She should explain, or try to, but she doesn't have any idea how, and she seriously doubts she has the wherewithal. And she has no desire to repay his kindness with a huge helping of her personal mess.

"It's fine." She looks at her hands, then at him, forcing a smile. "I mean it's not fine, but I'm going to be okay. I'd rather just leave it at that."

"Alright." He pauses and purses his lips for a moment as he wonders if he should press the issue. Maybe later, if it becomes more of an issue, he decides. Until then, he'll let her keep whatever this is to herself.

He nods, but the concern doesn't completely leave his face.

Probably best to change the subject. "This has happened to me before. A portal. New York City."

He leans back against the seat, trying to go over the similarities in his mind. There aren't many. If he were to take a guess, he'd say that the two situations aren't connected at all. The portal before had been in place, immovable, not something that snatched him up on board his ship, and it had sent him to his own history, not an alternate universe. "We found ourselves in nineteen thirty. I think I like twenty thirteen a little better as a place to be stuck. For one, they hadn't opened the subway system yet."

Iman perks up slightly when he talks about this having happened before - that's definitely interesting. She wonders if it was the same rift, or a different phenomenon altogether.

"1930?" She whistles and shakes her head. "Yeah, I'll take 2013, thanks. I would not have done well in 1930. Probably would have messed up the timeline if I hadn't been, you know, murdered or something." She sighs. "I mean, granted, Muslim women are kind of an oddity around here, though fuck if I know what everyone's god damn problem is. Wasn't like that in my 2013. If it's this bad now, can you imagine how shit it must be in 1930? To say nothing of the whole bisexuality thing."

That's a lot of personal information she doesn't mind sharing - maybe it'll sate his curiosity about her, since she's not interesting in talking about what's 'wrong'. Small talk is manageable, especially if it affords her the opportunity to complain. There's a guy across the train car who's glancing at them over the top of his book. Probably because they are talking very seriously about time travel. That's fine too. Rifties are common knowledge now, right? She smiles at him and nods, and he quickly redirects his attention back down.

"How'd you get out of 1930?" she asks Kirk, looking back at him. Only then does she notice he's still holding his metrocard. "Oh shit, do you not have pockets? Here, I can hang onto that for you."

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Starships were meant to fly [closed]

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