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Jim Kirk does well under the stresses of being captain of a Starfleet vessel. Even when one of those stressors is an inhabited planet literally dying off the port bow.
A tense few minutes filled with trying to get the bridge up and functioning again, Mr. Scott and Chekov scrambling to enact the pinpoint and rescue of nearly one hundred people in dire need, and navigation hightailing them away from a planet on the verge of self destruction, and Kirk had had just about enough for one day.
"Status on our new guests, Bones?" Kirk asked through his captain chair's comm link to medical. Glad his exhaustion wasn't as obvious as it could have been.
"All on board and being processed through med bay and into either bunked guest quarters —with a security detail for good measure— or straight to holding cells. In the case of the more... violent ones."
"Any problems when they came aboard?" Kirk asked. Trying not to sound worried.
"Not really. The majority of them were heavily armed, with lazer weapons, but once they realized we'd saved their skins, those guns were on the ground and their hands in the air." McCoy chuckled, before adding, "Maybe you can pull the video log later. Pretty funny picture."
"Guess I'll have to," Kirk agreed, figuring the captain ought to know exactly what was going down in his ship anyway. "How're the guests that came in the first volley? They armed with 'lazer weapons' too?"
"...No. Outfits didn't match anybody else who came through later either. Seem to be a separate group. All badly injured and in surgery as we speak. Speaking of which: I'll talk to ya later, Jim. I'm sorta busy helpin' somebody regrow a good deal of skin right now. Poor schmuck looks like he got caught up in a grenade blast."
And with that the connection was switched off from medical's side. Probably one of the assistings realized Bones would just keep up the dialog if they didn't remove the temptation themselves.
Bones had a good staff backing him up. Or, was he backing them up?
Eh, semantics, Kirk thought as he put his attention back to the repairs still taking place at most stations of the Enterprise bridge.
Sulu's navigational unit had finally stopped its unapproved smoking, Chekov's cracked display had been made safe for use by a thin bead of clear polymer from a fancy tube, and communications was back up to seventy-five percent functionality.
Not too shabby for a crew who'd just been slung through a time warp and spit out in a different galaxy. If James T. Kirk said so himself.
"Sulu, how close are we to having... bearings?"
"Uh, we're working out some rudimentaries, Captain, but it's going to take some time before we can establish anything substantial. Let alone helpful," the navigator added under his breath. Causing Kirk's mouth to twitch up at the corners.
They were so screwed.
With a hearty shake of the head, Kirk figured there was nothing for it but to keep up the good work and stick it out till it all became beta shift's problem and he could get himself some high quality shut eye.
Too bad all the repairs and excitement would be finished with by then. Beta shift never got any of the glory. Or the fun.
Hopefully the annoying throbbing in his head would be gone by then as well.
Hint: Next chapter's gonna be longer! ;D