Fic: The Plebe, Chapter 15

The Plebe, Chapter 15
The Morning After -- Skip Day, or Not -- Meet the Father

 

The bedside chronometer, styled to resemble an old-fashioned clock, read 10:36.

holy crap overslept got to get up got to

wait

Sleep started to fall away as his brain recognized the unfamiliarity of a large and comfortable bed, its warmth provided by a flannel comforter above and a thermal foam mattress beneath. One glance at the sunshine leaking through the crocheted window covering over his head confirmed the chronometer’s accusation: for the first time in as long as he could remember, Jim had slept well past daybreak.

He resisted the urge to spring out of bed and instead burrowed deeper into the bedding to enjoy the languid return of the previous night’s events. They had left the lab together, stopping first by Watson for Jim to pack his duffel with the few necessities for a weekend away while Finn waited outside the door, pleasant but firm in his refusal to enter Jim’s room. The books and toiletries were automatic additions, the clothes less so; he had hesitated at his closet door, mulling over the option of bringing some of Mitchell’s instead of his own, but the shimmer of the green shirt on its hanger brought a rush of resolution, and he reached instead for the old flannel shirt and barn jacket, cleaned but otherwise neglected since his first day at the Academy, and stuffed them in his bag.

“You should leave a note,” Finn remarked as Jim joined him outside. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think I kidnapped you.”

Jim had dashed back inside to scribble a few words on his PADD and lay it on his desk for Mitchell to find, then it was off to the airtram stop for the short ride to the public shuttle station off campus. Despite his best efforts to stay awake during the leisurely trip to Charlevoix, Jim had nodded off, his book finally falling off his lap to hit the floor as he snored, unaware, until the polite beeping of the shuttle’s computer alerted them that it was time to disembark.

The disorientation on Finn’s face as he swiped at his eyes confirmed that he’d slept as well. “Everybody out,” he said, managing a tired smile. “We go by boat from here.”

The tourist boat ride Winona had taken her sons on during a vacation to Niagara Falls did nothing to prepare him for the choppy ink of Lake Michigan at night, nor for the size of the small skimmer that Finn, laughing at Jim’s doubtful expression, tossed their bags onto at the dock. “Don’t worry. The ride is smoother than you’d think. And there are plenty of barf bags in the cabin.”

He had ridden in the cockpit instead, pressed against Finn’s side for warmth, the fresh chill of the night wind preferable to the cramped interior of the tiny cabin. Both were wide-awake now, the cold spray wetting their overcoats as the skimmer bounced across the lake surface. Finn, his voice almost carried away by the stiff breeze, had leaned down to speak directly in Jim’s ear. “You sure you don’t want to go below?”

“No, it’s wonderful!” he had laughed back, delighted at the wind and the spray, the dark around them and the amazement of stars overhead. Finn had smiled down at him in return and, for the first time that evening, had seemed to relax, removing one hand from the controls to wrap his arm around Jim’s shoulders and pull him closer while piloting the small craft with the other. Jim was almost sorry when the boat’s engine finally slowed, the flat blackness that rose before them signaling the approaching shore. Finn guided the skimmer into a small wooden dock and tossed the mooring line over before extinguishing the onboard lights, the murkiness of the night now broken only by the wash of stars in the night sky.

“It’s so dark,” Jim noted as Finn handed him his duffel and extended his hand to guide him off the boat. He wasn’t sure, but he thought Finn nodded in the blackness.

“The island is uninhabited except for a few vacation cabins like ours. No shuttle stop and only a few roads. Perfect for hiking or hunting, although there’s not much to hunt out here.” He pulled at Jim’s hand. “The car is this way.”

After the bumpiness of the water, the unpaved road felt almost indulgently smooth. Jim’s eyes widened at the occasional patch of white revealed by the Rover’s headlights. “Is that snow?”

“Welcome to the great lakes. We don’t get as much snow here as the mainland, but we do all right.”

A sudden vision of roaming the solitude of the woods, his footprints behind him the only marks in the unbroken snow, bloomed in Jim’s mind. “You must love coming here. If I lived here, I’d never leave.”

“It can get kind of lonely, but if that’s what I’m in the mood for, then yeah, it’s pretty nice.”

Jim flinched inwardly at the unwelcome reminder that he was the reason Finn had wanted solitude in the first place. “Is it all right that I’m here?”

This time he saw the nod as the lights of the cabin ahead welcomed them. Finn waited to answer until after he had parked the Rover and killed the headlights, then paused, his hands still on the wheel. “I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. It’s like I said earlier, I’m always going to want you, but you’re perfectly safe with me. You’ve got your own room, you can lock the door, I won’t be sneaking in to bother you. So if you’re all right being here, I’m all right with you being here. I’m actually really happy to share this with you.”

“This” turned out to be quite a bit larger than the rustic one-room cabin Jim had imagined; a large stone fireplace, its warmth already permeating the night’s chill, dominated the great room downstairs, a curving stairwell next to a tidy kitchen leading to the bedrooms upstairs. Finn had opened the door to the first room off the stairs and gestured for Jim to enter. “Towels are in the hutch in the corner and the bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll be in the room opposite yours. Wake me up if you get up before me so I can get breakfast started.”

Jim had expected he would do just that, but the muffled clanging of a frying pan and the smell of bacon that wafted up into his room confirmed what the chronometer had already told him; the morning had, uncharacteristically, begun without him. Finally driven by the twisting ache of hunger in his stomach, he rolled out of bed, pulling the comforter around him as a defense against the chill, and set off for the bathroom.

 

***

 

She wasn’t sure if it was a deliberately theatrical move on Spock’s part to arrive in the lecture hall exactly one minute before the start of class, but it occurred frequently enough for Nyota to recognize it as his habit and, that morning, to be startled at the sight of Spock already standing at the lectern as they filed in, his face immediately turning toward them as the three of them headed for their customary table. She tried to keep her expression neutral as she nodded politely in greeting, but when she saw her own apprehension mirrored in his eyes, her surprise turned to alarm. She could feel her own pulse quicken at his approach.

“Cadets. I notice that Mr. Kirk is not with you this morning.”

“Sir, he has the flu.” She frowned at Mitchell’s incongruous cheer at delivering the news. “I’m pretty sure the clinic, uh, informed his instructors.”

“Indeed. But it was my understanding that he was only excused from yesterday’s classes.”

The confusion on Mitchell’s face at Spock’s reply quickly gave way to wariness. He attempted a casual shrug. “I don’t know, he was feeling pretty bad. Probably needs today off too.”

“What was his status when you left him this morning?”

The question was sharp and urgent, two things that never, to the best of her recollection, characterized Spock’s speech. Her hand rose to Mitchell’s forearm, to squeeze it nervously. “Was he all right?”

“I…uh…” Mitchell rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “I didn’t exactly see him this morning. He must have left before I got up; he’s a real early bird.” His shamefaced admission quickly gave way to dismay. “I actually haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.”

“Accompany me to his room at once.”

The normal morning chatter of the eager cadets died at the sight of their instructor, abruptly and with no explanation or instructions, striding out of the lecture hall with three of their colleagues in tow. A quick glance at Gaila’s wide eyes validated the stab of fear that now turned Nyota’s legs to rubber as they struggled to keep up with Spock, finally jogging behind him to cross the campus green toward the old dorms.

She saw Mitchell’s fingers stutter on the keypad as he typed in the code to open the door, then stood aside to let them enter. Spock preceded them to stand by Jim’s bunk, his expression unreadable as he gazed for a moment at the neatly made bed, then raised his eyes to sweep them around the room. They finally came to rest on Mitchell, still standing by the door but springing to Spock’s side at the silent summons.

“Determine if anything is missing or out of place.”

Three heads nodded briskly; Gaila moved to search the desk, Nyota to the small bathroom, and Mitchell to Jim’s closet. He called out a moment later over his shoulder. “His duffel bag is missing. So are his hillbilly clothes.”

“Only one toothbrush and razor in the bathroom. Yours, I’m guessing.” The discovery lessened Nyota’s trepidation somewhat. “Shouldn’t he be in the infirmary anyway if he has the flu? Couldn’t he just have gone there for an overnight stay?”

“Unlikely.”

Something passed between Spock and Mitchell that she didn’t understand before Spock turned away to accept the PADD that Gaila held out to him. “This was on the desk,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “It’s Jim’s.”

He accepted it from her hand and passed it to Mitchell. “Kindly check for any messages he may have left.”

Mitchell swiped at the screen, frowning as it came to life. “Yeah, there’s something on here, but it’s sh…giberrish. Can’t make any sense out of it.”

“Reverse the image.”

He complied, brown eyes widening in surprise as he read the result aloud.

gone for the weekend i’ll be fine don’t worry see you sunday

“Gone?” Gaila was incredulous. “But underclassmen don’t get unauthorized off-campus privileges. Except for holidays.”

“Someone must have signed him out.” Spock extended his hand to reach for the PADD. “If you will allow me.”

The minute or two it took Spock to gain remote access to the Academy logbook felt much longer than that to the three friends. Finally a thoughtful tilt of his head signaled success. “Mr. Kirk was signed out last evening at 20:04 by Commodore Patrick Finnegan, Fleet Operations.”

“Patrick Finnegan?” Nyota drew her brows together. “Any relation to Finn?”

“I must leave at once.”

Spock had already moved toward the door before they could react; she managed to grasp his arm just as he reached the threshold, the returning dread eclipsed by resolve.

“We’re coming with you.”

He paused and looked at her, then at the others in turn, noting the matching expressions of determination, then lifted Nyota’s hand off his arm and held it between his own for a moment. She knew then what his answer would be.

“He has chosen his friends wisely. But I cannot allow you to endanger yourselves as well. Nor would he wish you to do so for his sake.” He let her hand fall as he turned toward the door again. “Kindly return to the lecture hall to inform the rest of the students that class is postponed indefinitely.”

“Sir, you can’t go alone.”

He caught Mitchell’s eye with a backward glance over his shoulder and nodded his agreement. “I assure you, I shall not.”

 

***

 

There was a shower in the bathroom, but no running water. A small card by the sink explained that piped water had been shut off since the first of September, a precaution against freezing; the bucket of snowmelt next to the toilet was apparently the only water available. Jim was glad for the the towels that Finn had indicated, not so much for drying off but for washing in the first place, the plush terrycloth making the icy bath a little less torturous. He was fully awake by the time he passed the chilled washcloth over his face and hair, the chattering of his teeth coming between snickers of laughter at his own weakness. Funny, he thought, how just a few weeks at the Academy had softened him.

He pulled on the flannel shirt and jeans and slid his feet into his old work boots with a grateful sigh. Already he felt the misery of the previous day crumbling and drifting away, to be replaced with the promise of the crisp air outside and the wide patches of unbroken snow he noticed with delight as he peered out the bedroom window. From the flush of pleasure on Finn’s uplifted face as he bounded down the stairs toward the kitchen, he couldn’t help but feel he’d made the right decision to come.

“You look great. Recovered.”

Jim had opened his mouth to reply when he stopped short at the realization that Finn was not alone. Seated at the small square table with a cup of coffee in hand was a man whose startling resemblance to Finn, albeit a head shorter and several years older, proclaimed him to be closely related. Finn confirmed it a moment later as Jim reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Jim, this is my dad, Pat. Dad, this is Jim Kirk.”

“So this is Jim.” The handshake was firm to the point of discomfort. “Ben’s told me a lot about you.”

“He has?”

The surprise in Jim’s voice was met with a light chuckle as Finn’s blush deepened to scarlet. “Indeed he has. Please, sit down. Have something to eat.”

Finn slid bacon and pancakes onto both their plates. “It’s not like I went on and on,” he explained apologetically. “Just a few things, like what I was tutoring you in, what you’re studying, that sort of thing.”

“You told me quite a bit more than that,” the elder Finnegan smiled, turning toward Jim as he sat. “I’m just glad to finally meet the paragon of intellect and virtue Ben makes you out to be.”

The tone was light and teasing, but Jim felt the heat of embarrassment climbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure he exaggerated.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Nothing I wouldn’t expect from the son of a hero.”

“I…” Something more uncomfortable threaded through the embarrassment. “I don’t think I said I was.” He tried to catch Finn’s eye, his own glance a question, and received a sheepish smile in return.

“Don’t blame Ben. Someone as important to him as you are, I’m bound to do a little snooping. One of the advantages to working in ops. Coffee?”

“Please.” Jim watched in silence as the dark liquid streamed into his mug and struggled to find a way to divert the conversation away from himself. “Do you come out here often? To the cabin, I mean.”

“Only when I need to these days. This was really more Ginny’s place than mine. A real country girl, my late wife.” Finnegan’s tone warmed as he wrapped his hands around his mug. “She loved to come out here any chance she could get. Chopping wood, back-country skiing, curling up in front of that fireplace to knit all those goddamn socks. She loved all of it. Wanted to move here permanently once Ben was born, and I probably would have done it, too, for her. Myself, I’m more of a city slicker.” His eyes focused on something beneath the surface of his coffee, then looked up; Jim noticed they were not the deep grey of Finn’s eyes but a sparkling, crystalline blue. “But I liked being here when she was here. And I brought Ben here as much as I could when he was younger, to keep a part of her living on in him, so he wouldn’t forget her.”

Winona had done the best she could, but Jim wasn’t certain he had any part of George Kirk living on in him. He looked up at Finn as he seated himself across from his father. “I’m glad you let me come,” he said with a grateful smile. “I think it’s great here.”

“It is a great place, to rest and recharge. Especially after all that excitement at the Academy, eh?”

The forkful of pancake that Finn had lifted toward his mouth halted in mid-air, then drifted back down toward his plate. “Dad,” he said, a warning tone in his voice, “please.”

“Jim knows I’m just making conversation, right?” At Jim’s cautious nod, Finnegan continued. “Now Ben didn’t give me all the details, but he did comm me last night to tell me you were coming and to get a second bed made up. When I asked why, he said you needed a break, that it had been a hard day.” He sipped his coffee, his eyes on Jim’s over the rim of his mug. “Anything to do with that meeting in the library?”

For a second Jim froze, his gaze taking in nothing but the two fair faces before him, nearly identical in coloring but for the golden cornsilk of the one having yielded years ago to pure silver in the other, two pairs of inquisitive eyes both turned toward him, one soft as morning mist and the other like glittering ice.

The queen is always true to her own color

It is the king who is false

A quick strike of anger gave way to calm; his answering smile was easy as he cut into the stack of pancakes before him. “Oh, you heard about that. I guess you would, being in ops.” At Finnegan’s nod, he continued. “Nothing to tell there, really. I went there to read a book and fell asleep. Woke up when they found me and dumped me out of my chair.” He nodded his thanks at Finn as he chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before continuing. “I can tell you, I’ll be taking my naps in my own dorm room from now on.”

“Hmm.” Finnegan tapped the rim of his mug. “So you didn’t hear anything of what was said? Nothing about the latest Federation starship deployment in the neutral zone, for instance?”

Jim forced his eyebrows upward as he reached for his coffee and sipped it before answering, his hand unwavering, his voice surprising him with its steadiness. “Is that what they were talking about? Like I said, I was asleep the whole time.”

“Really. My source says you awakened during the conversation.”

Finn’s eyes darted from one to the other. “Dad, come on. You’re making Jim uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay, Finn, I don’t mind.” He reached for a slice of bacon, speaking casually around the remains of his last mouthful of coffee. “Sir, your source is wrong. I don’t know anything about any neutral zone deployment. Sounds like a pretty bad idea to me anyway.”

“It may be.” Finnegan’s eyes remained, unblinking, on Jim’s face as he pressed a single button on the communicator at his hip. “But why don’t we find out for sure.”

He watched Finn’s cheeks pale to the color of cottage cheese, felt the rush of cold air as the door to the cabin opened behind him, and knew without turning around that the newcomers, for there were more than one pair of feet stamping snow off their boots, would not be so easily put off by his denials. Finnegan nodded at them, a genial smile pulling at his mouth.

“Pe’el.”

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