Work Text:
The world shakes. “Report!” Kirk orders as the lights on the bridge flicker.
“Direct hit!” shouts the officer at tactical. “Shields down to fifty-four percent.” Another explosion almost launches Kirk out of his chair. “Thirty-seven percent.”
Kirk states at the enemy vessel on the viewscreen. “Weapons?”
“Phasers have been disabled,” the officer reports. “And photon torpedoes are having minimal effect.”
“Keep firing. I want—” Another blast hits and the lights go out entirely. A moment later, emergency power flickers on. “Damage?”
“Hull breaches on decks forty-one through forty-nine!” Even over the chaos, Kirk can hear half a dozen alarms going off. “Torpedo launchers are now offline.”
“Navigation is down, too,” reports the pilot. “So are impulse and warp engines.”
“Captain,” his first officer says quietly in his ear. “We might have to consider—”
“Engineering to the bridge!”
Kirk hits the comms button on his chair, heart racing. “Bridge here.”
“The warp core is destabilizing! We have five minutes until it breaches, maybe less!”
“Is there any chance you can repair it?”
“Negative, sir. I recommend an immediate evacuation.”
“Understood. Kirk out.” He ends the call. "Comms, open a channel to the entire ship.” The officer at communications nods and he closes his eyes. “Attention all hands. This is your captain speaking. Abandon ship,” he says. “I repeat, all hands, abandon ship.” Kirk motions for the communications officer to cut the channel and turns to look around at the bridge crew. “You have your orders. Get to the escape pods.”
He watches for just a second as everyone scrambles for the turbolifts. Then, Kirk pulls his attention back to the viewscreen. “Computer, engage autopilot,” he orders. “Set a collision course for the enemy vessel.”
“Automatic piloting functions are currently offline.”
Kirk curses. “Reset the autopilot system.”
“Reset failed,” the computer replies.
“Reset it again!” Kirk shouts.
“Twelve minutes,” someone says.
Kirk whips around to find Captain. Pike standing behind him. “What?” he gasps. “How did you…?”
“Eight hundred lives. This is your chance.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I’m not ready.”
“You know what to do.” Pike points to the viewscreen. “Set the course.”
“I don’t want to.”
“I dare you.”
“I don’t want to do better!”
“Jim!”
“No!” His eyes snap open.
“Hey.” Chris’ hands are on him, steady and soft. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“I don’t want to,” Jim gasps as he collapses into Chris’ arms. “I don’t want to do better.”
~
At the breakfast bar, Chris sets a steaming mug of peppermint tea in front of Jim. He sits next to him and wraps his hands around a smaller mug of his own. “How long have you been having nightmares?” he asks.
Jim sips cautiously from his mug. His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Wow. This is really good.” He takes a long drink.
Chris flashes a smile. “I know. I grew the mint myself.” But his steady gaze remains fixed on Jim’s face, focused. “How long and how often?”
“A few months,” he admits. “And maybe once a week.”
Chris takes a moment to do the math. “So, around the time you took the Kobayashi Maru?”
Jim rubs his finger over the smooth surface of his mug’s handle. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You haven’t talked to anyone about it.” It’s neither a question nor an accusation, merely a statement.
“They’re not usually this bad.”
Chris doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just stares into his tea, watching the steam rise. When he does open his mouth, he says the last thing Jim ever expects. “I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“When I recruited you, I challenged you to do better than your father. That wasn’t fair to you. And I’m sorry.”
Jim frowns. “You don’t have to—”
Chris shakes his head. “I do. I need you to understand that you don’t have to live up to anyone’s legacy or expectations. Not your father’s, not mine, not anybody else’s.” His eyes lock with Jim’s. “If you don’t want to be a command officer, or if you even don’t want to be in Starfleet, you don’t have to.”
“I do,” Jim insists. “I didn’t at first; I only agreed because you dared me, but I want to be here now. And I want to be a commander.”
“Good.” Chris’ shoulders relax a fraction. “I’m glad to hear that. But if that ever changes…”
Jim nods. “I’ll let you know.”
“I hope you will,” Chris says. “I’m also going to schedule you an appointment at the counseling center.”
“I don’t need—”
“And I’m cancelling your second attempt at the Maru.”
Jim’s jaw drops. “What? Sir, I—”
“This isn’t a punishment, Jim. It’s a lesson.”
“A lesson in what, exactly?” Jim shoves back his chair and rises to his feet. “You can’t trust anyone?”
“No,” Chris says calmly. “Sit down.” Jim doesn’t move, stubbornly locking eyes with the captain. “Don’t make me make it an order.” Jim sits, his eyes shooting daggers sharp enough to breach Enterprise’s hull. “Like I said, I’m not punishing you.”
“Sure feels like it,” Jim remarks sullenly.
“I’m trying to teach you,” Chris continues as if Jim hadn’t said anything. “If the weight of command feels heavy now, when you’re a cadet, how do you think you’re going to carry it when you’re working on an active starship? What about the first time you’re actually in charge of people’s lives?”
“I can handle it,” Jim replies, crossing his arms. “By myself.”
“You’re right. You can. But not well, and that’s why I’m sending you to counselling.”
“What, so I have some stranger ask me how my dead dad makes me feel?” Jim asks sarcastically. “And if I don’t answer correctly, she’ll kick me out of the Academy?”
Chris sighs. “I think I’ve been showing you too many twentieth-century films. You know that we have evidence-based strategies to support command officers’ mental health, right?” he asks. “It’s not just lying on a couch and talking.”
Jim deflates slightly. “I mean, I figured that,” he replies. “And I think that’s great. For people who need it.”
“So what, it’s okay for other people to need counselling, but not you?”
“That’s not what I meant,” Jim replies. “I just don’t think I need it. That’s all.”
“How do you know that? Have you tried it?” Chris asks pointedly. Jim looks down at his tea. “Then how can you be sure it won’t help?”
“How can you be sure that it will?” Jim counters.
“I’m not. But I was a cadet once, and I’ve since supervised dozens of others. Can you at least entertain the possibility that I might have an idea that could help?” Jim sighs. “Just give it a try. Meet with the counselor I recommend. And if she suggests that you make a regular appointment, do it. If not, you’re off the hook.” Jim makes a face that is definitely not a pout. “And then I’ll let you take the Kobayashi Maru again at the end of the semester.”
Jim takes another sip of his tea before speaking again. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re a good cadet and I want you to succeed,” Chris replies. “And because I think you need to start learning to accept help, and the sooner you start doing that, the better.”
“I can accept help,” Jim grumbles.
“Your dorm room flooded and you refused to contact the housing office for temporary accommodations,” Chris counters. “You’re only here because I caught you sleeping in the library.” Jim huffs a sigh. “Try letting someone help you every once in a while. If nothing else, it's good practice for command.”
Jim nods. “Fine.”
“Good.” Chris stands up from his stool and nods at Jim’s tea. “Now finish that so we can both get back to bed. I don’t want you falling asleep in class tomorrow.”