Chapter Text
Chapel walked down the corridor of the USS Pensacola, nodding to the passing cadets as she took in the bright fixtures and immaculate bulkheads and flooring. It should have felt too pristine, like it needed seasoning. But for a newly commissioned training ship, the Pensacola had a surprisingly lived-in feel.
"Commander Chapel."
She never got tired of hearing that title. Even if she'd made commander some time ago, it was still a thrill. Back in her nursing days, when she'd been a lowly ensign, she'd barely hoped to make lieutenant, much less commander.
Turning, she saw Captain Neimann watching her from an open door. "Want to see your office?" he asked.
"Are you going to give me the private tour, Ross?"
He laughed. There'd been a time when he would have locked the doors and given her an extremely private tour. But they'd fallen out of that habit over a year ago. Friendship was easier. And safer.
Besides, he'd spent the whole time he'd been with her trying to live up to the man she'd been with before him. And no one could hope to outshine James T. Kirk—or at least none of her recent lovers had seemed to think so. She hoped that she'd never given any of them that idea.
"I've got a surprise for you," he said with a laugh as he bowed her into the office.
"Good or bad?"
"I'm not sure yet." He watched her walk around. "Is this okay?"
"It's fine." It was odd to be in an office and not a sickbay. But she wasn't a doctor right now. She was here in her new capacity as a rep of emergency ops. It was heady and terrifying all at once. "Is this the surprise?"
"Nope." Ross smiled at her, an easy expression utterly lacking in pressure or recriminations. Not all of her relationships had ended this well. "I'm glad you're here."
"Me, too." Even if she and he were on different sides of the fence when it came to his "chosen" cadets.
"You know the mission, Christine. We're going out beyond the range of normal training runs. We're going to give this group something to write home about."
"Or not." Some of the training missions he'd proposed weren't the kinds of things you wrote home—or anywhere else—about.
"Or not," he said with a laugh.
"So they're that good? Your Red Squad?" she asked, loading the question with more than just curiosity.
"I know you don't approve."
"An elite group? Isn't the Academy elite enough?"
He frowned. "There's a time and place for the very best. Missions that will only work if our top men and women carry them out. Isn't it a good idea to identify the very best now?"
"Based on what? Entrance exams?"
"They're not fourth-class cadets, Christine. They're second- and first-class cadets. We've had ample time to assess their potential."
"Potential. That's a loaded word, Ross."
He moved closer. "Don't tell me you haven't benefited from people assessing your potential favorably. Or from that touch of elitism—from being part of something golden. You really think old man Cartwright would have given you your ops assignment without the luster of the Enterprise behind you? And maybe without a good word from her former captain?"
She sighed. "I never asked Jim for a rec. And the Enterprise isn't golden, Ross. She isn't everything."
"I don't know if I'd agree with that assessment," a very familiar voice said behind her.
Chapel turned, saw Jim standing in the doorway, and could feel her mouth dropping. She forced it closed. "Captain Kirk."
He smiled tightly. "It's admiral. Again."
"My mistake."
"I doubt that."
"And here's my surprise, Christine." Ross waved Jim in.
"Good or bad, huh?" She pretended to glare.
Ross winked at her. "I'll leave you two to get reacquainted. We launch in an hour, and I'd like you both on the bridge. I know we're not all agreed about this mission, but we need to show at least the appearance of solidarity."
Jim nodded easily. "Wouldn't miss it, Captain."
Ross headed for the door, then turned back. "Admiral, if you'd like to take her out...?"
Jim waved the offer away. "She's your ship, Ross." As the other man walked out, Jim shot Chapel a bland look, but she sensed a question in it. Was she still Ross's woman, perhaps?
She stared blandly back. "So, you don't agree with the 'Red Squad' concept, either?"
"You know how I feel about elitism." He walked to the view port and seemed to be drinking in the stars, not just looking at them. "I'm an Iowa farm boy from all the wrong schools. Where would I have been if there'd been a Red Squad when I was at the Academy?"
"Probably leading it." Laughing softly, she joined him at the view port. She knew she didn't look as enthralled with the vista as he did.
He glanced over at her. "How long has it been?"
"I don't know, Jim. How long were you with Antonia?"
"Mrrrowww." He grinned, but then it faded. "You weren't exactly alone while I was with her, Chris."
"No, I wasn't. But you hardly have room to talk on that score—all your women. I mean before the sainted Antonia, of course. Where is she, anyway?"
"Yeah, I missed those claws." His grin turned cockeyed; his voice was less tight than she expected.
"You almost sound like you mean that."
"I almost do mean that." He sighed. "And it wasn't just before Antonia, you know. It was before you, too. You and I were exclusive—or at least I was." There was something sharp in his voice.
"I was, too. You know that."
"Do I?"
"You should."
They'd been together three years. Two wonderful, passionate, crazed years—and then one more where they'd slowly fallen apart. They'd nearly killed each other at times, nearly died in much nicer ways other times. And they'd never quite trusted each other the way they should have.
She watched him as he moved around her office. "I didn't know you were going to be here. When Ross said he had a surprise, I didn't think you'd be it."
"I didn't expect to be here. But I objected enough in principle that the brass told me to come along and observe."
"That'll teach you."
He laughed and seemed glad to be on easier ground. "It sure will."
"I was surprised to hear you'd come back to Starfleet."
He shrugged. "Space is in my blood."
She moved closer. "And Antonia wasn't?" She could see his jaw tighten. "Should I leave it alone?"
"Yes." His tone made it clear he was serious.
"So the Academy? That was a surprise, too."
"It seemed the right place." He smiled. "My ship's there."
She laughed softly. "And most of your crew."
"You have Rand."
"Actually, she has me." At his surprised look, she elbowed him. "Not like that, you lech."
"It was a very interesting picture." He slowly lifted his eyebrows.
Laughing, she turned away. "I mean she got there first. I'm the newbie."
"I'm sure you'll do great. I didn't have anything to do with you getting the assignment, in case you were wondering. Cartwright didn't even ask me for a recommendation."
"No?"
"No." He smiled at her gently. This had been one of the things she'd always loved about him. Even when he was irritated with her, he could be so damned fair—and generous.
"But you would have given me one, if he'd asked...right?"
"Oh, absolutely."
She laughed. "Very wise answer, Admiral."
He was back at the view port. "It's Jim, Chris. We were together for too long for you to fall back on titles when it's just us."
"I wasn't sure."
He looked back at her, as if surprised that her voice lacked any sarcasm. "You should have been."
"Once in the inner circle, always in it?"
"Something like that." He grinned; it wasn't fair that the expression still made her heart stop. "You look good, Chris."
"And you know you do, too." When he shrugged, she found herself grinning back. "I can't say I'm sorry you're here. Especially not if you're on my side."
"I've always been on your side."
He was staring at her, and she found it impossible to look away from him. "How long has it been really, Chris?"
She knew he was aware of exactly how much time had passed since they'd been together but wanted to see if she was. "Three years."
"And...?"
She rolled her eyes. "And four months or so. Not that I'm counting. We broke up right before our anniversary. It's easy to remember."
He looked down, and she heard him sigh softly.
"Go ahead and ask about Ross and me, Jim."
"It's none of my business." He walked past her.
She put her hand out, stopping him. "And you want me to just volunteer the information, don't you?"
He looked over at her. "Is that so hard to understand? You left me, remember?"
"You made it impossible to stay." As his face tightened, she said softly. "I'm not with Ross anymore."
"I'm sorry. He's a good man." Jim pulled away from her. "Did you leave him, too?"
"I wasn't the bad guy."
"And I was?" He was to the door now, his feet moving fast, carrying him away from how they were cycling down to that bitter, jagged place they'd lived in at the end of their relationship.
"Jim..."
"It's a long mission, Commander. We'll have loads of time to cover old, tired ground. For now, let's quit while we're ahead, okay?" His eyes were hard; his voice was, too.
She didn't look away. Could feel the old emotions coming up. There was a reason they weren't together. In the first rush of seeing him, she'd lost sight of that. "Fine."
He nodded and walked out, but she thought she saw him hesitate for a moment. Then the door closed behind him, and the room seemed suddenly smaller and cold. Walking to the view port, Chapel stared down at the one thing Jim hadn't looked at: Earth spinning below the ship.
She could get off, get out of this mission now before things went any farther, before she and Jim had the chance to hurt each other more than they already had. Ross could get another ops person.
It was tempting. But she wasn't a coward. Or maybe she was just a fool. Maybe, despite how much hurt loomed ahead, she couldn't just walk away from Jim.
Whatever her reasons, she was staying.
##
Kirk nodded to the cadets bustling around him as they headed for other parts of the small ship. They were the best of the best, Starfleet Academy's elite. He wasn't sure why it bothered him so much that they'd been plucked out of the general ranks for this special training regimen, but it did.
"Admiral," a young man said in hushed tones as Kirk hurried past him. "That's him. That's James T. Kirk. He's a living legend," Kirk heard the cadet say to someone.
That was him, all right. A living legend. He grimaced as he turned into the office Neimann had told him was his to use for the duration. Legend implied old. And Kirk was feeling old these days. He'd be fifty in just a few weeks. It wasn't a day he was looking forward to—he'd court-martial the first person who threw him a party.
Sitting down at the desk, he turned on the terminal and hit the sequence of commands that would engage the privacy channel—a perk of being one with Command again. One of the only perks other than being able to book time in space whenever he wanted to go out on training cruises. This one had been a surprise—he'd almost had to cancel the cruise he really wanted to go on with Spock and his graduating cadets. Spock hadn't commented on Neimann's pulling his top cadets out of regular classes for this mission.
Spock generally had an opinion on everything. His silence was no doubt significant.
Kirk dialed into the Command comm system and called Cartwright's office. For a moment, he worried that it was too late, but the ops center hardly worked banker's hours.
"Jim?" Cartwright beamed at him. "Where are you?"
"On the Pensacola."
"Uh-oh." Cartwright looked like he was trying to bite back a laugh. "How the hell did that happen?"
"So you didn't know I'd be here?"
"Do you think I'd have sent Christine up there if I had?" He grinned, but it was a shaky expression.
"We're not going to fight."
"Right. Because the two of you would never fight." He shook his head.
"I'm curious, Matt. Why did you send her? She's pretty new to ops be up here as your rep."
"She is. But she has great instincts. I wouldn't have sent her otherwise." Cartwright's eyes narrowed. "But that's not what you're asking, is it? Neimann requested her specifically."
Kirk smiled tightly. "Was this before or after the last training board?" He hadn't been shy about kicking apart Neimann's Red Squad proposal. It was what had earned him a berth on this boat.
Cartwright started to laugh. "Ooh, boy. Ross is more devious than I gave him credit for."
"So it was after the meeting?" At the other man's nod, he shook his head. "He thinks she'll distract me."
"Well, Jimbo, since you're sitting at some terminal bumping your gums about her rather than observing his cadets doing their thing, I'd say he was right." Cartwright leaned back. "It's sort of flattering, don't you think?"
"Flattering?"
"He thinks you're powerful enough that you need distracting."
"Real flattering." Kirk sighed. "This program's that important to him?"
Cartwright nodded. "He wanted your job. Now that it's out of reach, the best he can do is make this the pet project of the training board. That way you can't shut it down before it's even had a chance."
Kirk frowned. "You believe in this?"
"I'm a cautious supporter. I like the idea of having a crew I can trust."
"Knowing you, you'd post them all on the neutral zone to wait for Klingons to rush the line."
Cartwright shrugged, no smile in sight. Klingons weren't ever a joke to him.
"I better go, Matt. As you pointed out, I have cadets to observe."
"And an ex to avoid."
Kirk smiled. He didn't intend to avoid Chris. Let Neimann think he was distracted if it would make the man happy. Using their mutual ex-girlfriend against him didn't irritate Kirk as much as Neimann's having felt the need to do it in the first place. Had he really thought Kirk wouldn't give his program a chance before he judged it?
"I don't want to know what you're thinking," Cartwright said. "But think about the avoiding part. I wasn't precisely joking."
"Matt, Chris and I..."
"Christine and you nearly ripped each other to shreds, Jimbo. I was there to pick up the pieces, remember? A lot of good scotch—my good scotch—was drunk in the cause."
"Nothing's going to happen. But there's no reason she and I can't be friends, now. We've changed. Both of us."
"Uh huh." Cartwright shook his head. "Just...think before you leap, all right?" At Kirk's look he held up a hand, as if forestalling the rest of the argument. "Godspeed and fair winds, Jim."
Kirk smiled at the ancient goodbye. "Kirk out."
He sat for a moment, tapping out the command to disengage the privacy channel. Then he got up and walked to the view port. Space—he was back. Home. Everything he loved. Well almost. He'd left one thing he loved back on Earth. Antonia and he hadn't broken up so much as just let go. She'd given up trying to compete with his other love—unlike Chris, she couldn't share him with the stars. She'd had to sit back and watch space swallow him up. But Chris...
Damn it. Neimann was no fool. He couldn't have picked a better time to bring Chris around. Kirk hoped he hadn't known that, had just been lucky figuring she would be a distraction on her own merits, which were considerable. Kirk hoped he wasn't broadcasting his discontent with life to all and sundry.
Even back in Starfleet something was missing. Something wasn't right. He felt old.
Felt. Such a safe word but not the right one. He didn't just feel old. He was old.
Sighing, he dialed down the birthday angst and turned away from the view, walking slowly to the turbolift that would take him to the bridge. Several other officers—trainers from various departments—were headed up to watch the launch, too. They nodded to him and he nodded back, the ride was too short for much more.
The bridge was a mass of controlled activity, cadets manning the senior stations calling out commands to various sections. An advisor stood near each station, close enough to act if there was trouble, not so close they'd seem to be hovering. Neimann sat in the center seat, entering something in a padd that he handed to a cadet who appeared to be his exec.
Kirk stopped in the back, watching Neimann. He heard the lift doors open behind him and sensed, rather than saw, Chris come up to stand next to him.
"It's no accident your being here," he murmured.
She moved closer. "No?"
"Your beau there thought you would distract me."
"We've been over this. He's not my beau." She smiled at him. "A distraction, huh?"
He nodded.
"Is it working?"
"Too well. Witness how our first meeting went."
Looking down, she nodded. He studied her, noting how she'd put on weight, how there were more laugh lines around her eyes, and her hair was shot with gray. It should have made her less attractive; it didn't. He felt more alive standing next to her than he had for a long time.
She looked up slowly, their eyes meeting as she smiled the slow, crooked smile that had won his heart when he'd first realized she could be more than just one of his former crew. "So what do we do?"
"We behave ourselves, that's what. While we're on duty, we'll do what we came here to do: observe his cadets. We'll be model Starfleet officers."
She dipped her head and said even more quietly, "I notice you specified while we're on duty?"
"Caught that did you?" He laughed softly.
"I don't miss much."
"No. I know you don't."
Their eyes met again and held. He could feel the old fire starting between them, pheromones flitting around them in the air. He remembered how startled he'd been to find that kind of passion with her. She'd always seemed solid and dependable. Someone he could be sure of. Not someone who, at times, he'd feel like he was burning up with because of the passion—both good and bad—in the relationship.
For a woman who appeared to be the salt of the earth, she was damned ephemeral. Like trying to capture light. Or fire. He'd been burned trying. Not that it had ever stopped him from demanding another round in the fire dance. Because when she did decide to settle and let the fire turn into simple warmth or the heat of passion, it was sheer bliss.
She seemed to wrench her eyes away, looking around at the others on the bridge as if she needed to focus on something—anything—but him. Finally, she turned back and her expression was wry. "I have to admit I'm a little annoyed. Being used to distract you is hardly flattering to me as an officer. Or to the weight my voice carries."
Kirk eased her toward the side as more officers crowded onto the bridge. "Oh, I think your voice does carry weight. Cartwright isn't fully on board. If you had reasons for not endorsing this, he'd listen to you. I bet Neimann was counting on you being too distracted to come up with those reasons."
She thought about that and started to smile. One edge of her mouth turned up first, the way it always did. He used to trace her smile. "You always say the right thing, Admiral."
He grinned, forcing himself to forget about tracing anything. He was not going to be distracted by her. "I do my best."
Looking over at Neimann, she said, "I don't think he meant any harm. He just cares so deeply about this program."
There was a fondness for Neimann in her voice that made Kirk more than a little jealous. "I know."
The bridge grew quiet as the crew finished the pre-launch protocols and waited for Neimann to give the word. Chris swallowed whatever she was going to say and moved away a bit from Kirk, as if suddenly concerned with decorum. Neimann glanced back just as she did it, and Kirk saw him grin. He probably thought his grand plan was already working.
Not that it wasn't working to some extent—but Kirk was going to be damned if he'd let Neimann know that.
##
Chapel watched the cadets completing their surveys as the wind whipped and lashed sand at them. She'd taken temporary shelter from the biting grit between two trees, but the relief was limited. She supposed the driving sand was better than the cold rains that had drenched them all a few hours ago. Neimann swore the weather was naturally chaotic on this little planet, but she was willing to bet he had a control module that was currently set for sandstorm.
"Nice day," Jim said, pushing in next to her. "This weather has to be contrived."
"Ross says no."
"And we believe him?"
"Well, no."
Laughing, he moved closer. "Dinner tonight?"
They'd been on the ship for four days now. He'd monopolized her for dinner every single one of them.
"I thought I'd eat with the cadets," she said in the most serious tone she could muster. "Him and her and him," she said pointing out the three most attractive cadets in visual range.
He looked over at her, a frown starting, then he saw she was trying not to laugh. "Witch."
"You used to call me that under different circumstances." He'd always loved the way she could conjure life into things he'd thought dead from overuse.
"I did, didn't I?" He took a deep breath and went back out into the storm.
She followed suit, heading off in a different direction, watching as one of the cadets assigned to the science team cataloged the native flora. Another cadet was taking readings of the soils and geology and had climbed partway up a small hillock. He was checking the strata while blinking furiously against the pelting sand. Chapel smiled as she watched. They were driven, these cadets.
The wind began to lessen, and Chapel imagined she could hear all the cadets let out a collective sigh of relief. For a moment, there was no sound as the sun beat down and dust settled around them.
Then the ground began to shake. She looked over at Ross, trying to figure if he had dialed this up, but the look on his face was one of shock. Atmospheric chaos was one thing, but seismic instability was another.
The shaking intensified.
"Emergency transport formations," he shouted to the cadets, then pulled out his communicator. "This is a code-three emergency. Beam us up according to established protocols."
She noticed he didn't tell the cadets working the transporter to make way for more seasoned officers. She was glad he had that much faith in his special cadets but wouldn't have minded if he'd switched them out.
The cadets in the immediate area began to form into beam-out patterns, the cadets at point calling up to the ship as soon as their groups were all assembled. The first group disappeared as the trembling again increased in magnitude.
Seeing that Ross was busy talking to the ship and knowing that a few of the cadets were well beyond voice range, Chapel pulled out her communicator and set it to wide alert, repeating Ross's command. A moment later, a handful of cadets began running in from all directions. She saw Jim helping to form them into beam-out groups—although they didn't need much help.
There was no panic, just focused—and probably scared—cadets doing what they'd been trained to do. Chapel had seen seasoned pros handle emergency beam-outs with less composure than Red Squad was showing.
"All cadets accounted for, sir," she heard one of the cadets on transporter duty report. "Ready to beam last party up."
Chapel hurried over to where Ross, Jim, and several other officers were assembling.
"Energize," Ross said as a really nasty temblor started.
They rematerialized on the pad a bit cockeyed, and she reached out instinctively to try to grab hold of something to steady her. Her hand met Jim's, and he winked at her as they pulled each other upright.
"Damn it," Ross said quietly. "Starfleet assured me that planet was safe. The weather's unpredictable, but they never said it was a seismic menace." He motioned to Commander Korohama, the main observer for the science department. "Have your cadets get all of their readings downloaded and analyzed. I want to know where that quake came from and if there'll be more."
"Yes, sir," Korohama said, hurrying off; the others followed him, leaving Jim and her alone with Neimann and the cadets at the transporter.
Ross looked over at Jim. "Don't say it."
"Say what?" Jim walked over to the transporter, smiling at the young men who were trying to look nonchalant at the controls. "Nice work, cadets."
"Sir, thank you, sir." A smile threatened to burst through the one who'd been doing the bulk of the beam-outs.
Ross seemed to relax.
"Everyone did well on the beam-out. Very orderly." Chapel smiled at him. "Are you sure you didn't plan that?"
He glared at her. "I told you, I don't control the weather—or earthquakes, either."
She held up a hand. "Just checking."
Smiling in a way that seemed designed to dig a little, Jim said, "So that was more excitement than you planned for?"
Ross nodded, irritation plain in the tight way he moved his head. But it didn't seem to be irritation with Jim. "Back to the drawing board on the location for the 'challenging planetary survey' scenario." He looked over at Jim. "If there is a drawing board, that is?"
Jim shrugged. "A little early to tell. A few days of normal ship's operations drills, and now this, are hardly a test."
"But if you were to report today...?"
"Your cadets are good, Ross. That's not the question, and we both know it. This program may be counterproductive."
Chapel saw the cadets at the transporter console look down, their mouths tight. The ears of one turned a bright red.
Ross's ears weren't exactly pale either. "Counterproductive? If you think that then you're a blind fool not just an ol—"
She didn't think she'd ever seen Jim's expression go quite so cold.
"Would you like to finish that sentence?" he said in a voice made more dangerous by how quiet it was.
"No, sir."
Jim leaned in. "I've logged more star hours than you ever will, Ross. I've seen people under every conceivable circumstance. The good, the bad, and the truly horrible. And it's not the ones you've tagged as having the most potential that always rise to the occasion. Sometimes they're the ones who freeze....or run."
Ross looked straight ahead, his eyes unblinking, spine ramrod straight—he would have made a marine envious. "Yes, sir."
"At ease, Captain." Jim sounded frustrated now. He turned to the cadets, "If you'll excuse us for a moment?"
The more senior cadet looked at Neimann.
"That was an admiral's polite way of telling you to get out, not to ask your C.O what to do." Jim's voice fell to the low, dangerous tone again.
The cadets fled.
Turning back to Ross, Jim said, "If we have a problem, Captain, we need to air it now."
Chapel found herself standing straighter at the tone in Jim's voice.
"You've prejudged this program, sir," Ross said.
"We all prejudge things, Captain. That's called having a first impression. It doesn't mean it's the final impression."
Ross didn't look convinced.
Jim paced away, walking to the transporter and staring down at the controls as though they offered up some kind of focus for his thoughts. He touched a few, then looked up at Ross. "You believed you had to distract me with Chris. Are you so unsure of your cadets' abilities that you have to play games like this?"
"I'm completely confident in my cadets' potential."
"Their potential has never been in doubt. In any scenario, these kids will have a bright future. They're the best of the best." Jim walked back to them. "The question is whether pulling them out of the general ranks is the thing to do."
"Why should they be kept back?" Ross held out a hand, a conciliatory gesture that fell flat when Jim turned away. "You skyrocketed through the ranks, Admiral. Youngest captain ever. More commendations than you can probably remember. Hell, you stole your ship back after you defeated an invincible machine...again. What would your career have been like if they'd recognized that brilliance early on and pointed you accordingly?"
Chapel smiled. Jim would have been commanding in diapers. He shot her a look, and she wiped the smile off her face.
Turning back to Ross, he said, "We learn who we are by how we lead everyone, not just the best and brightest. We learn what we're made of by making a team out of everyone—the weak links and the others—and by developing those who need it. What kind of leadership challenge are you going to have with Red Squad other than keeping the loose cannons from bouncing off the bulkheads?"
"Is that what you think they are? Loose cannons?" Before Jim could answer, Ross said, "And I don't care if I don't have a leadership challenge when I'll have the best cadets Starfleet has to offer. I don't care if I don't have to worry about anything except keeping these young people from getting bored. In fact, I welcome it. That's the kind of challenge I crave. You can stick with trying to make the mediocre shine."
A hail rang out. "Korohama to Neimann. We have the results you wanted. Starfleet missed something vital when they did the initial survey."
"I'll be right there." Neimann smiled at Jim. "One of your less shiny, mediocre officers, maybe?" He turned and walked away, then, as he reached the door, he turned back. "I assume I'm dismissed, sir?"
"You're dismissed."
One of the cadets peeked in, and Jim gestured for him to enter. As Jim headed for the door, he motioned for Chapel to follow him. "Take your post," he said to the other cadet, who still lingered in the corridor.
"So what do you want to observe now?" Chapel asked quietly, taking in the way he had his hands clutched behind his back, the harsh snap of his steps. She could see that Ross's comment had hit hard. But she couldn't make that better. Jim needed to figure out how to deal with getting older. "Jim, let's go to the bridge."
He looked at her, and his expression cleared. "I am old, Chris."
"Well, you're older."
He smiled. "But I'm not a fool."
"No, you're not. Ross is just rattled. Today didn't go his way, and he's angry it fell apart in front of us."
"But it didn't fall apart. Those cadets were fantastic. Am I wrong? Thinking it's bad to pull them out?"
"I don't know, Jim."
He sighed. "I guess we just keep observing and find out."
She led him onto the lift. "Bridge," she said, then glanced at him. "There is another way."
He started to smile. He knew her well enough to know what it meant when her voice took on that tone, that it generally preceded something a little sneaky. "Yes?"
"Oh, yes." She leaned in closer. "You might want to get rid of the other observers?"
His grin grew bigger.
The doors opened on the bridge, and Jim nodded to the two officers observing. Chapel thought they looked like they'd welcome a break.
"We'll be here awhile. Why don't you two go grab some joe?" His smile was the solicitous one of a concerned admiral for the crew.
Chapel bit back a laugh as the other two happily left the bridge. Taking on the most casual attitude she could, she walked around the space, observing the cadets at duty. She stopped frequently, asking questions, noting the way some of the cadets stared at her challengingly, while others simply answered the questions and went back to work. Looking back at Jim, who was trying to hide a smile, she walked to the helm where the most confrontational-seeming of the cadets was working and stood to the side, watching him for a long time.
Jim stood next to her. Frowning slightly, he moved his eyebrows in the way that she knew meant, "What now?"
"It's an interesting experiment," she said to him, as if they weren't surrounded by a whole lot of lab rats who could understand every word.
He began to grin.
"Daring, even." She moved a little bit away from the cadet she had picked as her victim. As if she wanted privacy. She didn't lower her voice at all, and they were still easily in his field of vision. "But I'm not convinced it's a good idea."
The cadet stiffened.
"You have different ideas, Mister?" Jim's voice was like a whip, and again Chapel saw him trying not to grin.
"Sir, no, sir."
"You agree with me?" Chapel asked. "That's a surprise. Why are you on this ship, then?" She tried to make her voice sweet and soft, the one that had lulled many a patient into letting her do something painful, or possibly humiliating, to them.
"I mean, no, I don't agree, sir." He was stammering and was probably blushing—he was lucky that his very dark skin hid the flush.
Chapel could tell that the other cadets were listening closely even as they pretended to be intent on their stations. Just like in ops...or on a ship. Dynamics were dynamics.
"Permission to speak freely, Cadet"—she glanced at his nametag—"Endoya."
He turned to her. "I think it's an honor to be here. But more than that—this challenges me. And all of us."
She saw a bunch of heads nodding.
Jim pursed his lips, moving around to the front so that the cadet could easily see him, and probably so that most of the others could, too. "I know organizational dynamics are part of the required curriculum since I'm the one who approves it." His grin seemed to make Endoya and the others relax just a little. "I want you to think in terms of Darwinian dynamics."
"Isn't that what this is, sir?" A young female cadet at navigation looked down as if embarrassed at the way she'd blurted out that comment.
Jim nodded to her. "Go on."
"We are the fittest." She met his eyes and didn't look away. "We're the best. Our grades, our test scores, the way we perform in activities. We are the top cadets."
"Alphas," Chapel said softly, remembering how Jim loved to boil things down to pack dynamics. She could see where he was going with this but didn't think that the cadets could.
He smiled. "Exactly, Commander. What we have here are alphas. This entire room is filled with them. Hell, this entire ship is." He turned back to the woman. "You may be alpha female among these other alphas, Morris." He didn't appear to even glance at the woman's nametag as he used her name like they were old pals.
Chapel had always wished she could be that smooth.
Jim moved away. "In any case, one of you is first among equals. Or maybe two of you if you buy into the true pack model where gender is a factor." He looked at Chapel, grinning. "For the record, I don't. For all we know, Morris, you may be alpha, period."
Chapel smiled. She didn't think Morris was the alpha here. It was obvious that Endoya and a young woman at tactical agreed with her. But Morris would be high ranking in this pack, even if not the top. She'd spoken her mind to an admiral. Either she was confident of her role...or she was an idiot when it came to protocol. And the best and brightest were never idiots when it came to that. They might run around protocol with abandon, but they were always aware of it.
Jim sighed as if he was thinking and had reached a rather disturbing conclusion. "It doesn't matter who's alpha here. But I want you to consider something. If you all are alpha, then odds are excellent that no matter what group you'd found yourself in at the academy, you would have been the leader." He walked over to Endoya. "I bet you were the best pilot in your class."
Endoya nodded. "Three years in a row."
Jim smiled, sharing the young man's accomplishments. "See, you were leading from an early age. Typical alpha behavior." He walked away, then he turned back so quickly that Endoya jerked a little. "What happens to the rest of them now? I assume you and the number two pilot are here?"
Endoya nodded.
"What happens to the rest? Who's the leader now?"
Chapel smiled. Now was when he'd close the trap.
"The number three person," Morris said softly.
"That's right." Jim moved to stand in front of her. "Is that a good thing?"
She considered the question, and Chapel gave her credit for not blurting out an answer. "I guess that would depend on how close in ability that person was to the two taken away."
Jim smiled. It was the right answer. "And if that person isn't close? What happens to the group?"
"A group is only as strong as its weakest link, not its strongest." A new voice. The woman at tactical. Bylakov.
Jim looked up over at her. "Interesting premise. Do you believe that?"
"I said it, sir." Her eyes sparkled.
He smiled. "That's not the same thing as believing it." He walked around the bridge, catching each person's eye. "I want to posit something. Just for you to think about. Throughout the cadet ranks there are gaps now because all of you are gone. What does that do to the graduating class as a whole? I can see clearly how this experience benefits all of you. But you're already at the top. What does having you here and not with them as an example—as a catalyst for ideas and top performance—do to the teams and squads that are left in the ranks?"
Bylakov opened her mouth, then seemed to think better of what she was going to say.
"Spit it out, Cadet," Chapel said with a smile. "He loves the free exchange of ideas."
Jim smiled. "She's not wrong."
Bylakov smiled nervously. "Your bios were made available to us, sirs. The bios of all our observers and trainers were. There isn't a person among you who hasn't risen quickly, who wouldn't have been in Red Squad if it had existed when you were at the Academy."
Chapel smiled. "I think I'm safely out of that group."
Bylakov looked at her like she was a little bit stupid for saying that. Like she'd disappointed her. "Ma'am, at the risk of appearing to be apple polishing, you've risen faster than anyone with the exception of the admiral. A circuitous route, it's true, but if you look at the accomplishments in going from nurse to doctor to ops officer, and from ensign to commander in such a short time, it is impressive. For someone who, according to the personal notes in your file, never intended to be in Starfleet, it's quite inspiring."
Chapel stared at the woman.
Jim smiled. "I've tried to tell her that. I think you may have finally gotten it to sink in, Cadet. If so, well done." He paced around the bridge. "So, that's a good point. We all rose among our peers."
"And garnered resentment in the process, sir." Endoya was staring at Jim with an intensity that just bordered on hero worship. "I've read your memoirs. I've read the comments of your fellow officers, sir. They're jealous of you."
Morris nodded softly. "Maybe if you'd been with your own..."
Bylakov laughed, and all eyes turned to her. She stared at Jim and shook her head. "Captain Neimann is one of your own. He doesn't appear comfortable with you." It was a dangerously honest opinion to put out there. It seemed to float for a moment all alone, and Bylakov began to look embarrassed. Finally, the others nodded a little.
The door opened, and Ross walked in. All noise ceased as the cadets went quickly back to work. Taking the center chair, he looked around, then back at Jim and her with suspicion. "What's going on?"
"We're getting to know your cadets," Jim answered.
"That's great." Ross didn't sound like it was great.
"They have interesting ideas," Chapel said, and saw Bylakov flinch slightly. "I'm sure you've heard them all, though. Your cadets are bright and not afraid to share their opinions."
Jim smiled. "We'll get out of your hair, Captain."
Ross nodded tightly.
Looking around the room, Jim caught the eyes of a few of the cadets and grinned. "Ross, I have to tell you, no matter what I feel about the program, I'm not worried about the future of Starfleet. These are the finest cadets I've ever seen."
Chapel thought every cadet suddenly sat a little straighter. She also thought that every one of these kids would now follow Jim into the depths of hell if he asked.
"Most kind, sir." Ross was staring at them both, a little perplexed.
Jim walked to the lift, and as she followed him, she murmured to Ross, "Admiral Kirk's a fair man."
His soft smile made her glad she'd said it.
This wasn't a war. It was just a question of how best to position their resources for the future. Once they all started to focus on that and stopped trying to win, they'd finally begin to get the job done.