bakerstreet | A Master/Slave Meme

((OOC: For Master, it would have to be some misguided cultural cue that accidentally garnered him a slave. He'd not treat the slave as such even if the slave expected to be. For slave, he'd be very unhappy about it unless there was some sort of weird space pollen, etc.))

[I'd love to send him by, but want to know if I should avoid spoilers for the latest film! I could do with or without quite easily.]

(Ooc: I'm caught up with ST and MCU)

[The thing about unfrozen superhumans is this; it never rains but it pours.

Unfortunately for Steve, as the second time around, and hot on the heels of the ignominious Khan, the rules this time around are a lot more strict. He's promptly declared Starfleet property, chipped and tracked and fitted with a kill switch, and then shoved out into a world so fast it makes New York in the 2000s seem practically lackadaisical. He's fallen through time before, after all, and barely survived the first few decades of readjustment.

This is much, much worse.

The brig of the Enterprise is actually a bit of a relief, for its' lack of windows, until someone points out to him that they're actually going into space. There are orders to transport him as cargo to a deep space base, vague hints at the fact that he's probably dangerous and best not spoken to for the sake of everyone on the ship, with a healthy dose of 'just get him there, Kirk, don't stick your nose into this one, for once.'

You'd think someone at Starfleet would have figured out by now how this was likely to go.]

He goes through all of the records, even the ones with a security clearance a few times higher than the ones he had pilfered from Pike's files after the Admiral died. Humanity might be, more or less, out of the commodity market but that didn't mean that bequeatments were null and void. And Pike, clever as he was, knew that Kirk was just as clever and would find the sequences with little trouble.

So. Captain America.

Kirk frowns at the PAAD before telling the program to delete itself. He doesn't have a photographic memory but he's got the gist. It's much too dangerous to just leave anyway. Armed with knowledge and entirely too much curiosity, Kirk takes the long way down to the brig. Unaccompanied.

He stands outside of the cargo's cell and tilts his head to the side. "Legend has you at nine feet tall."

Steve scrambles to his feet when he hears someone come into the room, and stands up a little taller when he recognizes the pattern on his sleeve. He's no longer precisely respectful enough of authority in this world to come up to attention and a full salute, but there are some habits you just don't break all that easily.

Especially not when he's greeted with what might be the first joke he's heard this century. He draws in a breath, and reminds himself that he used to know how to banter.

"Stories have a way of stretching bigger over time, I guess. I suppose I'm no different, sir."

The formality noticeably surprising. Kirk's last dealing with a prisoner had gone a little less flatteringly. He tries to size up the man behind the force field with little success. He looks....normal. Blond. Blue eyed. Tall, well muscled.

Nothing that Kirk himself wasn't.

"I believe you out rank me, Captain, if you're going chronologically. You've held the position for much longer than I have." He can't help sizing Steve up.

"My army doesn't exist any more."

He points out, simply, dropping into parade rest. They've gone over him at length, worked long hours at breaking him into a little humility, into usefulness.

"I've been reliably informed that I'm the property of yours." The people back on Earth who have been working with him probably wouldn't approve of the stubborn just you try it tilt of his jaw, or the conspicuously absent 'sir' this time around.

Kirk makes a noncommittal face about the first statement and nods. "I guess that's true," he says, arms crossing over his chest. Not too long ago, he'd been facing someone else much like this. As dangerous as this. Steve Rogers simply doesn't sound like Khan. He didn't have that purring lilt to his voice that made him uncomfortable to listen to. He didn't offer proofs or theories. There was nothing about any of this that was manipulative.

Not at first glance at least.

"You're a person, not property. I just signed for you," the Captain tells the other. When had he gotten into the live person cargo business? They're suppose to be exploring, not transporting another Augment.

Having experience with one does not mean that Kirk was responsibility over another.

"But that said, care to tell me why Captain America is being taken to a deep space holding facility? I thought you were a hero." What did you do wrong, Cap?

"Whatever I was, now I'm... uncooperative, I believe was the word. They haven't told me where exactly I'm going."

He feels another acute pang of agoraphobia. They're flying through space. They're flying through space, in all likelihood to a research facility, where nothing good could possibly be waiting for him.

"Can I ask you a question, Captain?"

This is not how Starfleet is suppose to be. Kirk is finding out, more and more, than the organization his father had died for, he'd been born for, and was quickly moving through the ranks for isn't everything it preaches.

His jaw sets but he tries to appear more light hearted and less severe.

"You can ask but I might not answer. Fair enough?"

"This spaceship. It's as big around as, well, football pitches, at least."

An expansive gesture, in case football isn't a thing any more. He hasn't been given much of a sense of the scope, but knows from the corridors he's been marched through.

"How do they lift something this big off the ground without creating a blast of heat that should incinterate the planet?"

Because they propelled themselves around with combustion in his time, after all. As resentful as he is of all this, it's impossible not to have a little wonderment. It also highlights, though, why he's not of much use to Starfleet beyond being a model with interesting potential for replication. He is so far behind.

There are things in life that people take for granted. A question like this illustrates it perfectly and for a moment, Kirk has to swallow down his surprise. "Ion propulsion," he replies. "Though this ship -- and it's about the length of three football fields, by the way -- was half built on Earth and then lifted to dry dock in orbit and outfitted with the heavier gear. We switch to impulse engines after that, using repulsion, not heat."

This is an uncomfortable conversation because of where it has to be done from. He should be giving one of the twenty-first century's greatest heroes a tour, Bones should be excitedly studying the long term effects of a double, centuries long cyro-sleep on an Augment that isn't trying to kill them, and they should be having a party.

This--

"Can I have a turn at the Q and A?"

"And stories high? This could be a city."

A restless little shift in his cell, because now he's itching to explore it. It's a strange feeling, warring between wanting to settle into the smallest space he can find, and also wanting to find what passes in a windshield and press his nose up against the glass. Kirk's next question catches Steve a little off guard. People don't usually ask him. It's refreshing enough that he smiles.

"Sure. I mean, as long as the same rules apply?"

He may not strictly opt to answer.

"It is a city. A small one. We've got everything we need here." He doesn't mind to offer up this information. It's nothing that Steve can't figure out for himself anyway. After being granted the go ahead to ask his own question, Kirk spreads his hand to indicate that the terms are acceptable. He paces across the length of the cell and back again with long strides in calf-length boots.

He waits for a moment, trying to formulate the question properly even though he does fully believe that the other Captain will not answer him completely.

"What didn't you cooperate with?"

"They wanted me to participate in military protocols. This isn't a conflict I understand enough to become an effective part of, but they didn't seem to want to accept that as an answer."

A little shrug. He folds his arms over his chest, and grits his back teeth.

"I'm not a weapon that can be pointed at a problem. Furthermore, I'm not working in service of any authority that would expect me to be. Your Federation, Captain, is full of politicians and bullies, and nothing I've seen yet has convinced me that I want any part of it. So go ahead, ship me whereever you want, dissect me all you like, but frankly speaking you can all go-"

Steve becomes aware that his voice is raising, which may not be entirely wise, and that Kirk is perhaps not the person he should be taking this out on.

This is the second time in months that Kirk has been faced with the organization he loves trying to move back into the militarization codes that his people have left behind not long after the Eugenics Wars. Outside of the cell, the Captain of the starship tries to school his face, but he's wearing his heart right out in the open.

"This is the second time someone's stood where you are and told me that they won't be used as a weapon," he says quietly. "Are you planning on blowing up any buildings to prove it?"

He just has to know what he's dealing with.

Augments are impossibly dangerous.

"Using violence to prevent violence has never worked."

He isn't shy to tell him, arms crossing again. He looks faintly offended at the implication, but then, he doesn't know any of what came before.

"I guess the POW treatment makes more sense, if that's what you expect of me. But I wouldn't risk civilian casualties over something like this. I'll take the hit."

He'll take whatever is waiting for him at that deep space base, he means.

This is why Jim is not allowed to talk to prisoners. And this is why he does so any way. It's not that he's too trusting, it's that he likes the danger of it. He's a man with a genius level IQ, test scores to match, the youngest Starfleet Captain in history and an adrenaline junkie that seeks out dive bars to hit on women in hopes that their boyfriends will be around to clobber him.

Or that the women will take him home. Sometimes he doesn't care where his release comes from though. Sex is just as good as a fight.

He eyes Steve up and down and rolls his eyes. "If you break my neck, I'm going to be very upset with you." Jim's not even sure if it would take. After being given Augment blood-- There's been quite a lot of interesting side effects. He presses his hand to the lock release though. There are only a handful of people that know that there is a person here. He's going to keep it that way. "Come with me."

"You could blow my head off before I even tried."

Steve reminds him, reaching up to touch the chip at the nape of his neck. There may not have been briefing notes on that little feature, but then, Jim really isn't supposed to talk to prisoners.

He steps very gingerly out of his cell, taking a deep breath.

"My name is Steve Rogers."

Chip in his-- Okay. That's going a little too far. Jim keeps his mouth shut about that and sets a mental reminder to have Bones check it out when and if be gets caught harboring a former national hero. Evidently, they've taken clues from Khan but there's a big difference between their histories. Captain America saved millions. Khan killed millions.

"Yeah I know. Jim Kirk." There's a turbo lift at the end of the hall and usually, security personnel. Luckily, he'd sent them away before interviewing their cargo. Kirk presses his fingers against the controls and once the force field drops, he offers the other Captain his hand.

He moves to shake it, minding his strength, but still pleasantly firm, like any soldier of his age.

"It's nice to meet you. She's your ship?"

He hasn't seen much of the Enterprise, but for this and the handshake alone his smile is appreciative.

"All mine," Kirk replies, proudly. "I've had her for almost a year now, more or less," he says, walking through the doors to the lift as they open before motioning for Steve to follow him. "I'd give you the tour, but right now I'm breaking a few thousand regulations and my First Officer would gladly remind me of every last one of them if you don't hurry up. I've suffered enough," he jokes. "Deck five." The doors close and open a moment later and Kirk leads Steve as quickly as he can to his quarters.

"I wish Tony was here to see this."

He admits, absently, as he lopes after him. It's nice to stretch his legs, and to see a little more, even if the memory of the man and his abundance of Stark Tech makes it momentarily hard to swallow.

"He'd have had kittens."

Kirk's silent. There can be only one Tony that Steve is talking about and he won't be happy to know which side of the Eugenics Wars he ended up being on. That particular war had had so many losses for both sides that there really wasn't a winner. He smiles instead and shoos the other Captain into his quarters. It's nothing too grand, there's a lot of room on this starship but most of it is for equipment or areas to move people around.

"Kittens aside, these are my quarters. Make yourself comfortable.

A Master/Slave Meme

James T Kirk || Star Trek Reboot || Either Or

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