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Or: The Brig is the Happening Place to Be!
Whatever was happening to this ship, whoever she was, wasn't good. It sounded like a battle; all around him, he could practically hear the energy shift through her as power was redirected from one place to another, and the shudders of shots taken.
It was a strange place to be trapped, on a ship with no name, surrounded by humans wearing unknown uniforms, in the middle of a battle.
How the bloody Hell did he get here from San Francisco?
Scotty didn't move from his spot, despite the chaos. Whatever had happened that found him waking up in some strange medical facility and required him to be under guard implied one of two things: Either he was under arrest for some crime he didn't commit and this was some sort of civilian vessel, or he was captured by an enemy that he had hitherto not known about. In none of those scenarios did he plan on sticking around to get all of the fine details.
He was a little more calm now than he had been when he'd known for certain he was being pursued; then, he had been so frantic that he fumbled quite a bit when he was pulling these... touch-screen panels off of the access doorways to hot-wire them. If not for the fact that his mind could trace those connections and piece together what was what even in that state -- sometimes especially in that state -- he would have probably been caught.
But he was a swift study; after the first few, he got good enough to spend only about thirty seconds on each one, and replaced the panel like new again once the door was opened. Not out of any sense of duty. Just because he knew better than to leave a trail that could be followed.
Now some calmer, though his head was still hurting and he had realized he was half-starved, he tried to work out some sort of battle plan. If this was a ship, given her size, she was bound to have shuttles. If he could figure out where the shuttle bay was, he might be able to use all of this chaos to his own advantage.
Unfortunately for Scotty, he never quite got the chance.
Between the headache and the fact that he was actually a bit more calm and therefore not running on pure instinct, he didn't hear the approach. A shadow fell across the narrow edge of light between the bulkhead and the sensor probe he'd hidden behind.
He looked up and went from mostly calm, to entirely afraid, to mostly feral just that fast, scrambling backwards with narrowed eyes and tensing for the run, or the fight.
And ran smack into the guard who'd been waiting on the other side.
--
Jessep rethought, pretty quickly, his assessment that the kid wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. Mostly because by the time that they literally threw him in a cell in the brig, not a single one of the three guards had escaped unscathed.
Between the three of them, there were two black eyes, one split lip, one cracked tooth, many bruises and a number of sore or pulled muscles.
Jessep had almost forgotten how pissed he was when the kid had looked up, hiding in a space too small for the guards to get into, wide-eyed and obviously startled and scared. For that instant, the guard thought that this was just some frightened, baby-faced kid, barely an adult, who was in over his head. Just give him a good talking to, and take him back to sickbay.
And an instant later, that sort of sweet, scared look vanished into something considerably more dangerous and the fight was on. And it didn't stop. And size sure didn't come into play. It took all three of them to half-carry, half-wrestle the kid to the brig, and not once in that entire time did the kid quit fighting.
For their part, they handled themselves admirably and didn't give him any tune-ups along the way. Even if he was a crazy little bastard, they weren't thugs. But by the time they chucked him into the cell, every one of them hoped that they would never have to deal with him again.
"Send a message to Mister Scott that we have his... charge down here," Jessep said. "Don't interrupt him, just send a message." Then, casting one last look at the brig cell, he muttered to a man who couldn't hear, with a small smirk, "Have fun, Chief."
Whatever was happening to this ship, whoever she was, wasn't good. It sounded like a battle; all around him, he could practically hear the energy shift through her as power was redirected from one place to another, and the shudders of shots taken.
It was a strange place to be trapped, on a ship with no name, surrounded by humans wearing unknown uniforms, in the middle of a battle.
How the bloody Hell did he get here from San Francisco?
Scotty didn't move from his spot, despite the chaos. Whatever had happened that found him waking up in some strange medical facility and required him to be under guard implied one of two things: Either he was under arrest for some crime he didn't commit and this was some sort of civilian vessel, or he was captured by an enemy that he had hitherto not known about. In none of those scenarios did he plan on sticking around to get all of the fine details.
He was a little more calm now than he had been when he'd known for certain he was being pursued; then, he had been so frantic that he fumbled quite a bit when he was pulling these... touch-screen panels off of the access doorways to hot-wire them. If not for the fact that his mind could trace those connections and piece together what was what even in that state -- sometimes especially in that state -- he would have probably been caught.
But he was a swift study; after the first few, he got good enough to spend only about thirty seconds on each one, and replaced the panel like new again once the door was opened. Not out of any sense of duty. Just because he knew better than to leave a trail that could be followed.
Now some calmer, though his head was still hurting and he had realized he was half-starved, he tried to work out some sort of battle plan. If this was a ship, given her size, she was bound to have shuttles. If he could figure out where the shuttle bay was, he might be able to use all of this chaos to his own advantage.
Unfortunately for Scotty, he never quite got the chance.
Between the headache and the fact that he was actually a bit more calm and therefore not running on pure instinct, he didn't hear the approach. A shadow fell across the narrow edge of light between the bulkhead and the sensor probe he'd hidden behind.
He looked up and went from mostly calm, to entirely afraid, to mostly feral just that fast, scrambling backwards with narrowed eyes and tensing for the run, or the fight.
And ran smack into the guard who'd been waiting on the other side.
--
Jessep rethought, pretty quickly, his assessment that the kid wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. Mostly because by the time that they literally threw him in a cell in the brig, not a single one of the three guards had escaped unscathed.
Between the three of them, there were two black eyes, one split lip, one cracked tooth, many bruises and a number of sore or pulled muscles.
Jessep had almost forgotten how pissed he was when the kid had looked up, hiding in a space too small for the guards to get into, wide-eyed and obviously startled and scared. For that instant, the guard thought that this was just some frightened, baby-faced kid, barely an adult, who was in over his head. Just give him a good talking to, and take him back to sickbay.
And an instant later, that sort of sweet, scared look vanished into something considerably more dangerous and the fight was on. And it didn't stop. And size sure didn't come into play. It took all three of them to half-carry, half-wrestle the kid to the brig, and not once in that entire time did the kid quit fighting.
For their part, they handled themselves admirably and didn't give him any tune-ups along the way. Even if he was a crazy little bastard, they weren't thugs. But by the time they chucked him into the cell, every one of them hoped that they would never have to deal with him again.
"Send a message to Mister Scott that we have his... charge down here," Jessep said. "Don't interrupt him, just send a message." Then, casting one last look at the brig cell, he muttered to a man who couldn't hear, with a small smirk, "Have fun, Chief."
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Date: 2009-08-05 07:40 pm (UTC)Jim's eye was caught momentarily by a familiar figure in another cell. And yet there was something... when he took a better look, he almost thought he'd been mistaken. But no. Montgomery Scott... young and almost feral.
Jim was beginning to wonder if everyone on this ship needed to be locked up.
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Date: 2009-08-05 07:49 pm (UTC)Well, he's only eighteen; both eyebrows go up and he blinks a few times. And then, turning a little red, he tries to pretend he wasn't looking at her legs -- you can practically see him decide that yes, she's very beautiful, and at the same time realize, yes, she is way out of his league. And no, he is not very smooth at all.
Then, strangely a little less tense (and still stealing the occasional curious glance that way -- oh, teenagers!), he goes back to pacing.
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Date: 2009-08-05 07:53 pm (UTC)Did Jim know about this?
Regardless, it would have to wait for a moment.
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Date: 2009-08-05 08:02 pm (UTC)She glances at the occupants of the other cells. They are both familiar faces. She thinks she would have heard if her ship's Chief Engineer had gone missing, so this man must be from their universe. "Why've you got Scotty locked up?" she asks, curious.
She doesn't let her gaze linger on the other man longer than the moment it takes to identify him. She's never met him before, but his face is infamous, and she's heard stories of what he's capable of...that is, what the Captain Pike of her universe had been capable of. She doesn't know if his counterpart is of a similar disposition, but given that the captain's got this man locked up, Marlena isn't about to take any chances.
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Date: 2009-08-05 08:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-05 08:44 pm (UTC)Jim had not previously encountered the other Pike on this ship, but he knows him instantly. It would be bad, very bad, for Marlena and he to get cozy.
"Further down," he said. Out of earshot--he'd leave instructions with the guards not to let the two Terran officers communicate. "It's just for now, Lieutenant Moreau. Until we figure out why you're here." And can send you back, he thought.
The young Scotty's brief bout with something Jim couldn't see hovered near the edge of his awareness--he'd deal with him when Marlena was squared away but he wondered if it had anything to do with why the boy was here in the first place. And how.
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Date: 2009-08-05 08:49 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-05 09:56 pm (UTC)The pain is catching is sensitive Vulcan fingers in a slamming door. It is the sudden wrench of a rockslide. It is the ghost of what he will experience if his bondmates die. Spock clenches his jaw, grits his teeth, outwardly stoic. Jim has given no indication that he was affected and the throbbing passes with an almost audible pop of pressure equalizing in Spock's ears.
He realize he has been holding his breath, inhales and makes up the step he lost as Kirk and Moreau moved deeper into the brig.
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Date: 2009-08-05 10:05 pm (UTC)Something had happened, but he needed to focus, now. He wasn't even sure if he'd felt anything or just Spock, through the bond. Was it always so difficult to tell? Was this a liability, or an asset?
He wanted to turn to Spock, offer him comfort or at least a query as to his well-being, but there was Marlena watching. Jim tried to send reassurance through the bond, not sure if he had the hang of this, yet.
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Date: 2009-08-05 10:17 pm (UTC)He could feel Kirk's thoughts on him and took a deep breath through his nose. Bearing the brunt of the unexplained pain would be worth nothing if Jim were distracted anyway.
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Date: 2009-08-06 04:12 am (UTC)He can't fathom why he feels like this. He can't even think of it in words, only through senses, and right now it feels like having something cut open.
It never once occurs to him to ask someone for help, for sympathy; he doesn't even show any to himself. Just exists, in whatever singular moment is now. He never so much as whispers a complaint.
He's still ready to bolt or fight and listening for any approach. His hearing's above average, and he uses it about as much as he does sight to process things.
But he blocks out the lights, hiding his head, as though that would somehow fix it; firmly closes out sight of the world and reminds himself to breathe.
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Date: 2009-08-06 04:23 am (UTC)It's a last-ditch attempt to retain her freedom; she knows it's clumsy and desperate, but it is the last card she has to play.
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Date: 2009-08-06 04:28 am (UTC)"I know," he said. "And I'm not unaware of the favor I owe you. This isn't how it's going to be repaid, however. Not now, anyway. You'll be as comfortable as possible. It won't be for long. I'm not interested in seeing you rot away here."
He smiled at her, not his full-on charm but something quieter and compassionate.
"I promise. No harm will come to you, so long as you cooperate."
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Date: 2009-08-06 06:55 am (UTC)She leans closer to the forcefield between them, lowering her voice. "Jim. Please..." She pauses, offering a sad smile. "Please ask the captain to go easy on Spock. He meant well."
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Date: 2009-08-06 03:21 pm (UTC)"You know very well we have no choice, under the circumstances. The captain isn't me, but neither is he your version of Jim Kirk. You, and Commander Spock, will both be treated fairly."
Frankly, Jim couldn't imagine was Spock had been thinking. Knowing where she was from... What could Lt. Moreau have done to sway him? To sway a Vulcan?
"I'll... come and see you soon, Marlena."
With that, he smiled and turned away to attend to the new Scott.
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Date: 2009-08-06 06:24 pm (UTC)Marlena gives the cell a quick once-over. It's fairly well-designed, as far as she can tell, but then she's not an engineer. Perhaps once the officers leave, she'll conduct a more thorough investigation.
She sits on the narrow bunk and allows herself to slouch back against the wall. She stares up at the bare ceiling and says to no one in particular, "I want my sash back, damn it."
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Date: 2009-08-05 10:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 04:19 am (UTC)She opens her mouth to speak, but reconsiders and closes it. Jim's attention is obviously on Spock; this is certainly not the most opportune time to appeal to his feelings for her.
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Date: 2009-08-05 08:11 pm (UTC)He only met her eyes a moment, but there was much to read. Confidence, surely. Beauty, without a doubt.
He would be sure to speak with her when the brig went silent again. In the mean time, he would learn.
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Date: 2009-08-05 08:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 03:25 pm (UTC)The boy seemed traumatized, in a heightened state of fight or flight. Some of that was understandable, but it was not like the Scott he knew to break down completely upon stumbling against the unexpected. He'd barely spoken in Jim's hearing, and even that Jim could not be sure he'd heard. There was no telling what sort of universe he was from.
"Montgomery Scott," he said calmly, his voice firm enough to command attention but in no way harsh. "No one's going to harm you here."
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Date: 2009-08-06 03:45 pm (UTC)He hears the man's voice, but it's a bit of time before the words all process into something recognizable. Except his name. He gets that right off. And then he tries to figure out the right way to respond to this (they did cover enemy capture in Basic Training, but this isn't like any scenario they'd ever run), so in all, it's awhile before he does answer.
But finally he picks his head up, not looking over. His accent's heavier that his older twin's, though not too broad and reasonably understandable. "Fa... Where's 'ere?"
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Date: 2009-08-06 06:02 pm (UTC)"You're on the U.S.S. Enterprise., Mr. Scott. My name is James T. Kirk." If he really was a teenage version of Scotty, that would mean nothing to him. "Do you remember how you got here? Where you were before?"
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Date: 2009-08-06 06:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 07:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 08:02 pm (UTC)Since it's not classified, he shakes his head again. "Nothin' about this ship's Constitution-class." His reasoning being that the Constitution, NCC-1700 was officially launched this year after trials, where she was the NX-1700; in theory, then, what this Kirk fellow is saying is that this is the 1701, yet unnamed in the San Francisco Fleet Yards and not even close to completion.
Though, admittedly, when he says the words 'Constitution-class, there's a wistful, longing note in his voice, if only for a moment. No doubts that some things must be universal, regardless of the age. And he certainly has studied what was released unclassified about the Constitution; he knows what her class should look like, and this isn't it.
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Date: 2009-08-06 09:25 pm (UTC)He turned back to the kid.
"It's different, certainly," he said, working on the assumption that, even if it wasn't Jim's own universe Scotty was referring to, he did understand the confusion. "But I assure you, the Enterprise is a Constitution-class vessel, just launched this year." Keep him going about the ship, Jim thought. If nothing else, Scotty would respond to that.
((OOC - Just realized that if I'm not getting notifications, Spock might not be either, and she's probably checking in from her phone. So sorry, Spock, if you were going to jump in.))
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Date: 2009-08-06 09:52 pm (UTC)[[OOC: I'm not getting any myself, which sucks.]]
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Date: 2009-08-06 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 10:09 pm (UTC)"Cadet Montgomery Scott, Starfleet, SCC 224056 E." Which is easy enough to parse out -- Starfleet Command Cadet (which the original was, before transferring permanently into Engineering), the year he joined the service and his acceptance number, then E (engineering) which is his minor study.
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Date: 2009-08-06 10:17 pm (UTC)"We're going to have to leave you here until we determine where you're from and convince you we mean you no harm," he said. He was tired, Spock was tired, and Jim needed to know what the hell was going on. "Are there any questions you would like to ask in the meantime? Anything you won't dismiss out of hand, that is."
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Date: 2009-08-06 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 10:34 pm (UTC)"Because, Mr. Scott, the Enterprise has, of late, seen a number of unauthorized and potentially dangerous visitors. Until the exact nature of the disturbance can be discovered, we are playing it safe. It's not meant to be permanent. We'll make you as comfortable as possible, and I assure you someone will come for you soon."
This business of not being captain, Jim thought, was extremely trying when one was used to it.
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Date: 2009-08-06 10:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 10:43 pm (UTC)"All right," he said. "I'll have that arranged for you. And a hot meal. But no more fighting the guards, or we will have to consider you hostile."
Jim would leave word with Security that Scott could be taken to the shower but utmost care must be taken to see that he remain in custody. There was something to be said for earning the boy's trust.
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Date: 2009-08-06 10:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-06 11:38 pm (UTC)"Good. I'll see you soon, Cadet."