It’s a quiet evening for Jim and Spock. They’re done with their duties for the day, thoughts of Stafleet and the Academy left in their respective offices. They had shared a quiet dinner, and Jim offered to clean up, because Spock had been working hard lately and deserved a break. When has put away the dishes and made Spock a cup of tea, he steps into the living room to join Spock.
Spock’s sitting on the couch, a blanket spread over his lap, carefully pursuing one of Jim’s books. It’s then that the realization hits. Jim has never allowed anyone else to read his books. They are precious to him, in price, yes, but mostly in sentimentality. He has never trusted anyone enough, has never been comfortable enough to lay that part of his soul bare for another’s judgement.
And Spock was never supposed to be the person to crack that shell. Spock was never supposed to be anything, back when Jim first read his name while going over potential crew rosters with Admiral Pike- just some officer, making a name for himself in science circles, with a good recommendation. He’ll be good to keep around, Pike had said. Jim had agreed and signed the forms without second thought.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more. He wasn’t supposed to become Jim’s First- Jim had full confidence in Gary. But when the disaster of a shakedown happened and Jim’s plans were shredded, there stood Spock, unfailingly competent, ready to take on any task his fresh-faced Captain needed.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more, wasn’t supposed to become Jim’s closest friend, his most trusted confidant. Jim had wanted Bones as his CMO the second he found out that McCoy was available. Jim knew he would need someone with whom he could occasionally let loose, someone with whom he wouldn’t have to worry about rank and obligation. But somehow, slowly, Poker Night became evenings spent playing chess, comfortingly challenging, and chats over a bottle of Bourbon became long conversations on the observation desk, words flowing smoothly until deep into the hours of Gamma shift.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more. Friendship was one thing, but Jim wasn’t supposed to fall, and fall hard, for an enigmatic Vulcan. But that wasn’t surprising; Jim always fell when he shouldn’t, with Carol, with Edith, with many others when it could never work out. He couldn’t help but love so freely, to give his heart out when he ought hold it close inside his chest. The tabloids have said for years that Jim Kirk leaves a trail of broken hearts wherever he goes, but they got it wrong. He’s had his heart broken in more ways and in more places than your average human can even imagine.
And Spock wasn’t supposed to be more. Jim could admire from a distance, stand by and support him at his bonding, and slowly learn to heal once more. Spock wasn’t to fall, too, wasn’t supposed to tumble after Jim, forever, unfailingly, following his Captain.
And they definitely weren’t supposed to catch each other.
if you’d told Jim all those years ago that that up and coming scientist would someday lounge on their couch, in their living room, reading Jim’s treasured copy of Oliver Twist, he would have called you crazy. It was never supposed to work out that way.
Spock clears his throat, pulling Jim out of his sudden musings. “Jim?” he asks. “Are you alright?"
Jim smiles and gives a half laugh, coming toward Spock. "Yeah. I was just thinking."
He sets the tea on the end table before lifting the blanket and settling against Spock’s side. One arm raises to make space for him before pulling him close. Jim settles in, his head against Spock’s chest. "I am the luckiest person in the entire universe.” he says as Spock resettles his blanket over them.
"Jim, I confess myself disappointed. That statement falls far short of your usual standards of accuracy.“
Jim looks up. "Oh?” he asks.
“Indeed. You cannot be the luckiest person in the universe. You are not even the luckiest person in this room."
Jim feels a burst of affection at these words, and presses his grin into Spock’s chest. Spock takes advantage and presses a kiss to Jim’s hair, giving the arm around his bondmate a tight squeeze.
"Agree to disagree, Mr. Spock.” Spock hums his agreement, reaching around Jim to turn the page.
“You’re on your probationary period as an inspector, right?” T’kollen glanced at his companion as they made their way down the dock.
“Yeah. Almost out, though. Then I can actually do something with this training.”
T’kollen chuckled as he rounded a corner. “Chances are you haven’t seen one of these yet. Come along Klem’pat, this is gonna be interesting.”
As Klem’pat rounded the corner and it came into view, he almost tripped over his own feet out of distraction. “The hell is that?!”
T’kollen’s chest rumbled a bit. “That was a freighter.”
Klem’pat moved closer, his eyes scanning the ship repeatedly. “You’ve gotta be playing some kind of joke. Why are we here? Half the hull is gone. Just condemn it and move on.”
“Ah ah ah. No can do.” T’kollen pulled out his datapad, hit a button, and Klem’pat’s pad chimed to mark receiving a synchronized form. “This freighter came in like this, full crew.”
Klem’pat shook his head, then scanned the hull again. “Looks like it…what even happened?”
“Report says a mistimed jump left them lodged in an asteroid. No casualties, and there were only a few humans on board to start. Pretty standard menagerie crew for a long-haul freighter, really.”
“Uh. Huh. Human family group?”
“Take a look at the form, it has the crew manifest. Standard procedure for these incidents.”
Pulling out his datapad, Klem’pat scanned quickly through until he found the obviously human names. “Family groups normally have shared names, right?”
Sighing, he stepped toward the ship. “May as well show me what happens with these.”
“Don’t step on board, not yet. Gotta start from the outside with a hull breach.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding.” Klem’pat gestured toward the gaping hole along the entire side of the ship. “There’s nothing to see.”
T’kollen pulled out a handheld scanner and pointed at the ship as he slowly walked a semicircle around it. “That’s kind of the reason we’re here. New rules. We log everything, call in a large jump freighter, send the reports and the ships back to a processing facility. The Federation wants to know why this happens.”
“You’ve…” Klem’pat sighed, pulled out his own scanner, and began scanning the hull. “We’re gonna be all day at this, huh?”
As they stepped through the bulkhead, the entire ship shifted to the side, and the bone-tingling wail of tearing metal could be heard. “You’ve gotta be kidding. Nobody could survive this.”
“Everyone on board survived it.”
T’kollen shook his head and started toward the bridge. “That’s what we’re supposed to figure out. Mind the holes.”
“Uh. Actually, speaking of. Look at them.”
“Heh, you caught on fast.” T’kollen glanced back at the gap he had just hopped. “Yeah, it’s in the report. One of the humans said something about, and I quote, ‘hotwiring the damned grav field to make a bubble and keep this ship’s insides inside.’“
“And that just happened to make a perfect ring-shaped warp to every metal edge within a quarter meter of the outside? I doubt this rusty old tub had a grav-generator accurate enough to even be completely monodirectional in normal operation.”
“No bet. You’re right on that.”
T’kollen just kept walking toward the bridge. “Get used to it. These ‘incidents’ are becoming more common by the day as humans show up on more crew rosters. Fewer lost ships, more impossible survival stories.”
“There any point in continuing the inspection?”
“Of course. We have logs to pull from the bridge, a data dump to get from the grav-generator, and a required examination to perform on the thrusters, jump-drive, and power core, assuming they’re still present.”
“…if they’re still present. You’re telling me some of these incidents involve not having thrust, or power, in open space. And surviving?”
“Yup. That’s what has the Federation so weirded out by these humans. And so, that’s why we’ve gotta follow these new Mack’Guy-Verr Protocols.”
After the game once everyone’s getting settled Jade’s like ‘ok we should set up a new chore roster, how about you guys get yours and we can compare’ and the meteor crew is like… chore… roster??? …chores???
Jade: how did you guys know whose turn it was to do the dishes?
someone from the meteor: we didn’t do dishes, we just threw the dishes into the Dish Pit
They thought the Dish Pit was bottomless but there is actually an entire room on the meteor somewhere filled to the brim with dirty dishes. It is a good thing the cherubs were chained and could not stumble upon this terrifying porcelain El Dorado
In case anyone wants to know just how far down the rabbit hole I’ve gone today
I present to to you the Crosshairs masterlist of the Normandy SR1 Crew Roster (post Eden Prime and the subsequent Spectre Promotion and Shepard gaining command of the Normandy):
I’m working on a “the ranks explained” post, because I’ve sat here for a good portion of the day working it out myself. BioWare’s ranking system on the wikipedia is not only… lacking, it’s not even complete itself as there are military personnel in the games with ranks not included on their list. So I took liberties, melding Navy, Air Force, and Marine ranks into one ‘Alliance Military’ system, accounting for career paths - some of which are not marked for command paths, despite being of ‘equal rank’. Anyway, that will be a post of it’s own in the near future. In the meantime, enjoy my insanity:
CO: Lieutenant Commander Olivia Shepard
XO: Master Sergeant (Navigator) Charles Pressly
Head of Marine Detail: Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko
Helmsman: Flight Lieutenant Jeff ‘Joker’ Moreau
Navigator: Sergeant Gali Groves
Comms Specialist: Technical Sergeant Andy Shaw
Chief Engineer: Lieutenant Greg Adams
Chief Medical Officer: Doctor Karin Chakwas
Mess Sergeant: Serviceman First Class Orden Laflamme
Armory Chief: Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams / Service Chief Brooke Buchanan
Requisitions Officer: Petty Officer 1st Class Raymond Tanaka
Yeoman: Chief Petty Officer Hector Emerson
Lieutenant Commander Olivia Shepard
Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko
Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams
Garrus Vakarian (given rank clearance of Operations Chief)
Wrex (given rank clearance of Corporal)
Tali’Zorah nar Rayya (given rank clearance of Chief Petty Officer)
((Y'know, I’ve been poking around tfwiki lately and decided to look up who all is actually on the Lost Light. I actually didn’t know some of these characters were there, like Cosmos and Inferno, so I thought I’d share.
Pronouns: she/her/hers Primary Position[s]: Waitress at ‘Toxic Tea Party’ tea shop in one of the ports the Vox frequents, acts as an in-port contact and informant for the crew. Her time on the ship is spent as a foreign affairs specialist, linguist and translator (meaning she and Ginny tend to work together a lot). Stage Position[s]: Dancer, specializing in traditional and mating dances from her home planet Sahariuan (a planet with heavy middle eastern influences. Many people who have been to earth describe it matching to the culture and climate of Morocco). Does not sing on stage (but prefers to sing in private in her natve language.). Also likes to add a touch of acrobatics to her routine from time to time. Additional Information: Clementine is an accomplished acrobat, as well as knowing many alien languages. She is an orphan, and growing up earned a reputation distracting travelers with her song and stealing all their valuables. When she was 19 she met Evander Foster, a well known but young space pirate turned tea shop owner visiting her planet. She left with him and has been employed at his tea shop ever since.
Species: Andronata (insectoid/human hybrid), Vestalis genus
Called: Dolori, generally. Pip/Pips in private with close friends. Vestalis refers to their genus, which functions as something like social class in Andronata society— their genus name would be used like a title or an honorific among their own species.
Primary Position[s]: Captain! For a conscious vessel like the Vox Clamantis, this means not only piloting and command, but also neurological hookups for more or less direct interface with the ship. It is also their job to (intentionally or otherwise) aggravate the shit out of their second in command.
Stage Position[s]:Emcee/announcer, plays at ringleader~. Technically “sings,” but it’s really more… instrumental than anything. Andronata breathe through spiracles or gills in their abdomen (although they do have a perfunctory sort of upper-respiratory system and vocal chords to allow for oral communication), and can make a suprising range of musical warbles, known colloqially as “gutsong.” The sound is much like that produced by circling the wet rim of a glass with one finger.
Additional Information: Andronata are a hybrid species, engineered some centuries ago by human scientists, enabled by the near-miraculously adaptive genetic properties of the Odonata, intelligent insectoid (former) residents of a mild, unsuspecting asteroid cluster just around the corner from Proxima Centauri. At the time of human colonisation, the Odonata were on the verge of extinction, and negotiated with humankind a splicing of their respective species in order to preserve the dying race and propagate a new society to inhabit the (former) Odanata homeworld(s). This is basically the high-science version of royal marriage alliance, except a new species is born! Thus, as gutsung in the lore of the new Andronata species, “man met angel and made new child-nymphs,/ star-sand skele-skin and sky-bearing shoulders/ water-womb’d and wetted mouths and reed-fingers, they;/ Old kinds spun together behind new (and wond’ring!) eyes…”
(Andronata are noted as being insufferably mystical sorts.)
Dolori was born on-world, but their class dictates them as a sort of embassador, so it was natural that they should be sent to train as a starcaptain of a conscious vessel, to better tour the cosmos, facilitate between species, etc etc etc. The burlesque aspect was unexpected, but thoroughly enjoyable, the occasional pirating is notably less so. Andronata are passionately nonviolent and Dolori is a bigger weenie than most— although their species-wide hive-socialistic sensibilies make for a certain disdain for the notion of accumulating wealth, so they give the pirating a pass in the interest of “redistribution”— they’re more than happy to let Gooden take the helm in situations like those.
On the whole, they’re amiable, charismatic, proud, a touch dreamy, and more than a touch sentimental. Their consious vessel and partner is also their lover, to whom they are incredibly devoted (although their romantic interests and escapades are rather wider-reaching, a common trait among starcaptains). Beneath the bravado, they’re really a huge dork and all-around pansy-ass intellectual. Don’t bring up particle physics unless you have any particular desire to watch them dissolve into babbling, tearful wonderment. It’s really pretty pathetic.