nexus_sages | (no subject)

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James T. Kirk absolutely loves marketplaces.

It's not necessarily because he's looking for anything, per se, although he does often keep an eye out for interesting books to add to his collection, or maybe a bottle of some kind of exotic alcohol, or some kind of pointless alien gizmo with which to annoy Spock with its purposeless existence. No, he just loves the sheer diversity each bazaar brings to the table.

No two markets have ever been alike, in his experience. Sure, it's not quite as exciting and mysterious as exploring deep space, but it's something of a microcosm of the same, all sorts of goods and cultures thrown into close quarters, and one never knows what one might find just down the street.

His shipboard gold uniform may stand out a bit in the crowd as he meanders along, a faint smile on his face as he leans in to examine someone's wares on display, just enjoying being out and about in the fresh air.

[OOC: Retconning Jim eating bacon in this thread. Hadn't fully considered some of the elements in his backstory at the time.]

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"Was it pretty recent?" Jim would assume so, if Shade-Seeker's colleagues have only just recently started asking questions about the legitimacy of his rank.

"A few months," he answers, "during which we have been awash in daedra, so we are still some distance from normalcy--one hopes."

"Good luck with that... it's been a year since my promotion and I'm still having to prove myself all the damn time." It's frustrating, but he's been trying not to let it get to him. After all, he isn't going to slack off if his naysayers ever eased up the pressure.

Of course, once again, he has questions. "I'm not familiar with 'daedra.'"

"Thank you. I do not mind proving myself--I must earn my place in my own eyes, as well, after all. I simply strive to be aware of it. Envy, ego, and poison politics nearly destroyed the Guild once, after all."

Shade-Seeker gives a slight nod at Jim's unfamiliarity. "The word seems uncommon, outside of my own world. The daedra, broadly speaking, are the quasi-divine spirits who did not participate in the creation of the world--opposite the Aedra, who are the gods and their servitors who did."

That... sounds absolutely bizarre. But Jim recalls something that Shade-Seeker said earlier, and tilts his head slightly. "They're the ones invading?" he asks, taking a guess at the clues that've been dropped here and there along the way.

Oh, Jim, you haven't even dipped a toe in the parts of Tamrielic lore you would find weird. You're still imagining their sun is a big ball of burning gas like yours. "They are, yes. The daedra lord of conquest and ruin seeks to annex the world. I count among those who stand opposed."

"Conquest and ruin, huh? Sounds cheery," he says dryly. "Is the Mages' Guild leading the fight, or is someone else calling the shots?"

"You should see his sense of decor," Shade-Seeker replies drily. "The Imperial Legion holds the line, and I have been of some small service as well. I will see that the Mages' Guild does its part."

"Sounds like they'll definitely need you." Jim appreciates someone willing to step up and do what has to be done. He did the same, and it's what Starfleet expects of its personnel.

He drains the rest of his mocha, but he's enjoying the conversation, fascinated by the subject matter, so different from the universe he knows so well. So he's certainly in no hurry to call an end to their talk. "I get the impression that politics back home are pretty complicated."

Shade-Seeker finishes his drink as well, the last of his chili-ish already gone. "Mm. Complicated is an apt word. The Emperor has been assassinated, his last heir is in seclusion and not known to the public--most believe we are entering an era without the Septim dynasty, and are fearful of it. Then, of course, there is my own agenda."

Wow, no wonder Shade-Seeker's home is in crisis, with their head of government being killed off. Even without the whole daedra thing being a factor. Jim shakes his head a little. "Man, I don't envy you at all."

Shade-Seeker gives a low chuckle. "I have been told that there is a curse in some lands, 'may you live in interesting times.'" He shakes his head, bemused. "Ah, well. But what of your world? You have spoken of missions and your ship, surely there is a tale or two you may share?"

"Yeah, I've heard that saying too," Jim says with a small smile.

In the year that he's been in command of the Enterprise, there's really only one story that stands out so far. It's not a happy one. It's also complicated, even when telling it to someone who is familiar with the political background of the whole shebang, so he has to consider how to simplify it while still keeping it understandable.

"Our first mission on the Enterprise was when we were still cadets. The main fleet was busy elsewhere when we got a distress call from the planet Vulcan, one of my home planet's closest allies. Starfleet pulled basically the entire Academy to crew seven available ships for what was supposed to be a humanitarian mission. They thought it was a natural disaster; I guess they figured sending us would be good field experience. Turned out it was an ambush. The other six ships didn't figure it out in time. Hell, the only reason Enterprise was spared was because Nero - the Romulan commander - had a personal vendetta against our first officer. He took our captain hostage and destroyed the entire planet with a kind of... superweapon."

Shade-Seeker is aghast, and it takes him a moment to come to terms with the idea of destruction and loss of life on such a scale. He collects himself within a moment, though, and his pink eyes look sincerely into Jim's as he offers, "words cannot express the depth of my grief and empathy for your people's tragedy."

It's damn close to the traditional Vulcan 'I grieve with thee,' a phrase that's come to mean a hell of a lot more than it used to. A very appropriate statement indeed. "Thank you," he says, a little quieter. "I still don't have the words for it either."

Jim interlaces his fingers to stop himself from fidgeting, and looks down at the table for a moment, before continuing. "Starfleet has a rule that says a commanding officer who's emotionally compromised by a mission has to step down, for safety reasons. Spock had more experience than the rest of us, but he'd just watched his planet be destroyed, and his mom died with it. I had the training and the knowledge needed to lead, so I ended up in charge." It's a massively abridged version of events, but he doesn't want to bog down the tale with confusing or unimportant details, like the fact that he wasn't even supposed to be there in the first place, or that a version of Spock from the future is the one who told him he had to take command.

"Nero was going to destroy Earth, my planet, the way he'd taken out Vulcan. We caught up with him, and Spock and I boarded the Narada before he could finish. I rescued Captain Pike and Spock turned the superweapon against Nero." He shakes his head slightly. "Nero was the one who killed my dad, the same day I was born. I gotta admit, it didn't make up for all the stupid, awful shit he put us through, but it felt sort of satisfying to watch him finally go down."

Shade-Seeker nods his agreement, but remains silent on the subject of the tragedy--he spoke truly when he said he lacks the words. Anything he could think to say in the face of such a monumental horror would seem small and hollow. The tale continues, though, so he readily gives his attention to that. "That is a sensible rule, though I imagine its invocation is rarely welcomed by those who need it."

"That seems... poetic," he muses, when the tale is done. "So many beginnings, reflected in the end."

"Yeah," Jim agrees. "Spock took some... convincing, but he eventually saw that it was the right call." It's a far less damning way of saying that Jim goaded him into trying to strangle a subordinate officer to prove he was emotionally unstable.

He nods a little at Shade-Seeker's assessment of the story. "It was a great victory with a horrible cost. A cost we never should've had to pay. But even looking back, I'm not sure I could have done anything differently."

Necessity may be the mother of invention, but diplomacy is a fond uncle.

"There is a small mercy in that, at least. You are not burdened with a sea of might-have-beens," he muses, when the tale is done.

Oh, what a horribly ironic thing to say. Thanks to the mind-meld with the future version of Spock, Jim knows exactly what might-have-been if Nero hadn't been around to ruin billions of lives. But that's a whole different can of worms to open, so he just smiles a little and says, "Yeah, small mercy."

"Captain Pike was hurt too badly to retake command, so my field promotion stayed. Most of my crew kept their field ranks too, but because ninety percent of the crew is fresh out of the Academy, Starfleet hasn't made a habit of giving us tough missions yet. It's like one really long shakedown cruise."

Shade-Seeker doesn't know how he's just put his foot in it, but he can sense he's misspoken and his demeanor is contrite.

"It may not be relative inexperience alone that leads your commanders to withhold you from the fray," he suggests. "You are the remnant of a lost generation, precious and few. Is it not so?"

Jim certainly doesn't hold it against him. Everyone has their emotional landmines, and with the exception of telepaths, no one can know when they might be prodding an old wound. And he gives Shade-Seeker a somewhat grateful look for not prying deeper, his tact appreciated.

"That might be part of it," he agrees, nodding slightly. "Something like eighty-five percent of the Academy was wiped out. Not just the cadets, either, but a good chunk of the instructors, too. Those of who survived had to grow the hell up in a hurry, and I'm proud of everyone who rose to the challenge, but some of them are still just kids. Hell, my primary navigator only just turned eighteen last month."

If there's one thing the lizard-wizard knows, it's tact. No, alchemy. But if he knows two things, the second is empathy-born tact. (Like, intellectual empathy, not Betazed-born powers. The multiverse gets complicated, sometimes.)

"Indeed? My congratulations to him." A birthday is a much-needed bright spot, after all that talk of death. "Even the wisest child is still young," he admits, on that other subject. "Even those who by nature are serious will feel the occasional healthy urge for youthful mischief, eh?"

Jim doesn't tend to associate his own birthdays with happiness, but it's not the same when it comes to other people, so it is indeed an appreciated bit of better news. "No argument there," he concurs, a slight smile on his lips. "A lot of it comes out as friendly insults, you know? I don't think an older, more seasoned crew would get away with half the shit my crew says to each other without getting disciplined. But it works for us, and I haven't had to tell anybody to rein it in yet."

"Mm. I am reminded of an axiom that I read not so long ago: that which is absurd, but works, is not absurd."

Jim shrugs, his smile growing slightly wider. "Add 'as long as the admirals aren't watching' and I'll agree a hundred percent."

Edited 2017-05-23 04:44 (UTC)