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Sometimes Bones wondered if Jim was ever going to run out of steam.
A few days ago he had been up at the crack of dawn for a five-mile jog. Last night he had been trying to persuade them to join him for an orbital skydive. Then just this morning Bones had found him rummaging around in the garage, digging his old bicycle out of storage, waxing nostalgic. Talking about how he used to go on treks all the time. Tomorrow, who could say? Probably climbing a mountain or something.
It had been a little over three years since the Enterprise had returned from her original five-year mission, since Kirk had accepted his promotion to Admiral and gone from the captain’s chair to behind a desk.
At last the stars had aligned and they had been able to spend their time off together. Even Spock had crawled out of whatever cave he’d been living in on Vulcan to pay a visit. As far as the doctor was concerned, he hadn’t changed a bit. They had spent shore leave together before, but this was different. Back then there had been the knowledge that in a few weeks’ time they would be on the move again, exploring strange new worlds, seeking out new life and all that other junk.
Yes, that was what Jim was waiting for. The next adventure. The one that wasn’t coming.
At least, not in the way they had been expecting.
It had been confirmed mere months after their return: the Enterprise’s refitting, overseen by one Montgomery Scott. The word among Starfleet was that it would be ready for its maiden voyage within a year. Jim had been careful not to bring it up, but he knew. And Bones was willing to bet that Jim would find some excuse to turn up on launch day. Maybe he would even pull rank and take command himself.
A while ago Bones had met the ship’s new commanding officer, a fresh-faced young thing named Will Decker. The lad had struck him as well-meaning but eager – or perhaps the more appropriate word would be desperate – to please. Still, the doctor had been civil, the same way you’d treat a difficult relative when they came around for the holidays. Perhaps wanting to get on his good side, Decker had taken him on a little tour of the ship (as though he hadn’t lived there for five years), finishing on the bridge.
Now, Bones didn’t think of himself as a particularly petty man – at least, that’s what he liked to tell himself – but seeing Decker sitting so proudly in the captain’s chair… every fibre of his being knew that it was just plain wrong.
He still hadn’t decided if he was ever going to set foot on that ship again (and after Decker’s little display, it was increasingly unlikely), but even if his emotions got the better of him yet again, he had sworn right there and then that it would only happen if James Tiberius Kirk was at the helm. In the meantime, he would do what he always had – make sure the old fool didn’t get himself killed.