There was a time when Jim would have given anything to be able to properly empathize with Ambassador Spock - to be able to understand him genuinely, and not just from the forced depth of their mind meld, so that the older Vulcan would be less alone. Now, though, struggling with the realization that he might not actually be able to get back to his own time and dimension, a part of him kind of wants to kick the guy in the teeth.
Not that he can. Hacking into the station's Starfleet network let him learn where he is and when he is; Spock's on Romulus. Incommunicado is an understatement.
And for the record it's weird as hell being here in the future on the station he previously only knew of as Terok Nor, the place where, eventually, the entire universe was maybe-probably going to collapse in on itself because of ... ridiculous Dominion-Wraith-Cardassian reasons; he's glad to see that not every future leads to that point, but it's still disorienting on top of an already disorienting experience. (Damnit, Q.)
Because this is Ambassador Spock's universe and not his, Jim knows he doesn't look like what the Starfleet of this world will remember of Captain Kirk. And because he sees Deep Space Nine and can only think of the future he experienced, one where the Federation fell decades ago, he hasn't approached anyone yet. He's watched, though. Through hacking and through hustling in bars (some skills never leave a guy), and through occasionally peering at Starfleet officers from a distance.
Like this one. The counselor, whose exact position in the piecemeal crew he's get to feel out. Maybe it's time for something closer than from a distance.
"Buy you a drink?"
[ brackets are okay if you prefer those o/ i'm using this, for context. ]
no subject
Not that he can. Hacking into the station's Starfleet network let him learn where he is and when he is; Spock's on Romulus. Incommunicado is an understatement.
And for the record it's weird as hell being here in the future on the station he previously only knew of as Terok Nor, the place where, eventually, the entire universe was maybe-probably going to collapse in on itself because of ... ridiculous Dominion-Wraith-Cardassian reasons; he's glad to see that not every future leads to that point, but it's still disorienting on top of an already disorienting experience. (Damnit, Q.)
Because this is Ambassador Spock's universe and not his, Jim knows he doesn't look like what the Starfleet of this world will remember of Captain Kirk. And because he sees Deep Space Nine and can only think of the future he experienced, one where the Federation fell decades ago, he hasn't approached anyone yet. He's watched, though. Through hacking and through hustling in bars (some skills never leave a guy), and through occasionally peering at Starfleet officers from a distance.
Like this one. The counselor, whose exact position in the piecemeal crew he's get to feel out. Maybe it's time for something closer than from a distance.
"Buy you a drink?"
[ brackets are okay if you prefer those o/ i'm using this, for context. ]