nexus_crossings | New Year, New Trials

New Year, New Trials

Stratos hasn’t been in the Nexus since Halloween, but today the Imperial tribune is standing in the middle of the plaza rather than at his people’s desk. Both his steel-plated boots and the red cloak draped from his shoulders are spattered with mud. He cradles his crested helmet under one arm, running a hand through his untidy hair.

It’s been a rough few months for him, but he’s refusing to show it. Especially since the first days of the new year have brought yet another emergency for him. Another very personal emergency.

“Good day. Does anyone here have information on the whereabouts of Captain James T. Kirk? Alternatively, a method to contact him aside from use of a PINpoint?” He glances down at his pocket, urgency creeping into his voice despite himself. “Preferably before anyone does something… reckless in pursuit of him.”

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Maybe later, Jim will feel bad about putting that look of utter bewilderment on this guy's face, confronted with a stranger with a familiar face. Growing the beard was probably the smartest thing he's done in that regard to make it immediately obvious that they're not the same person.

"James T. Kirk, just not the one you're looking for," he answers, cutting right to the heart of the matter, trying not to be too impatient. It was a surprise the first time he'd seen the other captain, too, even though he'd been warned about it. It's pretty much expected that he's gonna get the occasional doubletake.

"I haven't seen him in over a month, and all my messages to his PINpoint are getting bounced back." He can only assume that this man must be having the same problem - despite the level of technology suggested by his armor, and from what Jim's heard of Tamriel, the tribune did mention PINpoints by name, so he has to be at least somewhat familiar with the tech. Jim crosses his arms over his chest, all business, all captain, slipping back into the role like a second skin. He has a job to do, and whether or not be can do it, he's sure as hell going to try. "I've been searching for the door since yesterday."

As far as Stratos is concerned that explains nothing at all, but he sets his mouth and nods shortly. This is the Nexus, and he is a mage. Sometimes you just have to be ready to accept the bizarre, if not have fun interrogating it and writing up a pile of semi-comprehensible notes about it.

"There'll be time for explanations later. According to the last message I received he was... well enough last week." He doesn't know what this time of year means to Jim, nothing like the way Felix does. But he's garnered hints that going quiet is not the unusual part.

"This is the first I've heard of another door, but if it still exists I should be able to locate it." It's a possibility he can work with, and that's enough for the tribune. "I have seen the ship before, at least. What do you know about the door? The better you can describe it, the faster I can find it."

Edited 2018-01-07 12:27 (UTC)

Jim just nods, mentally filing that information away. It may be only a small comfort to know that this isn't something that's been ongoing for a long time with no one noticing, but it could be vital intel, something to help them fit together the clues. And hopefully find a solution that doesn't mean what he dreads it does.

It's slightly more of a surprise that this man would be familiar with the ship. He's way calmer than Jim would assume that Felix would be, so this can't be him. But he supposes the other captain would know more than one Tamrielic citizen, and it's not that weird that he'd make friends.

He's not sure how much detail he needs to give, how familiar this man is with the inner workings of the ship. Normally he'd rather do damn near anything else than look for the door to the warp core. His self-administered exposure therapy hasn't gotten quite that far yet. But just like last time, knowing the danger and what fate awaited him, he can't let that fear hold him back. Not when there may be lives in the balance. "It's a glass door, about an inch thick. Slides open sideways. Has the Federation symbol for radiation warning on it. Do you need me to draw it?" He can't assume that Tamriel even has a concept of radiation, never mind recognize the warning signs. If this guy knows what the hell he's talking about, so much the better, but Jim knows better than to automatically assume.

"This one?" Stratos holds out his free hand, prompting the air above his palm to shimmer and form a two-dimensional image between them: the Earth symbol for radiation he knows, black on yellow, three segments of a circle around a smaller inner circle. Stratos does know a few things about radiation, thanks entirely to the Nexus. In fact he knows far more than either Jim Kirk would be comfortable to find out about.

"If the door still exists on this plane, locating it will be simple. If not... well, we'll see." He has to concentrate only to fix the goal in his mind. Even if this doesn't work, merely having a simple, tangible destination to reach helps, in the moment.

Now that, he wasn't expecting, and Jim flinches for a moment as the symbol pops into existence. "Yeah... that's the one." If he had his way, he'd never have to look at it again. But that's not an option, and if this is what it takes to fucking deal with it, then so be it.

"Here's hoping." It'd be a stupid question to ask if this guy is gonna use magic to find it; that's fairly obvious. Under less stressful circumstances, Jim might have more questions about how it works, exercising his normally boundless curiosity about magic. But there'll be time for that later, he hopes, just trusting that the tribune knows what he's doing. And hopefully, that they can get an answer sooner rather than later. "Searching on foot could literally take forever."

Noting Jim's reaction, he banishes the illusion with a flick of his fingers. His hand remains outstretched, however, fingers curling slightly around an unseen spell. The mage's eyes are half-closed for a second, but he swiftly turns, finding his direction like a compass and striding ahead.

"This way." He weaves through the Nexus-goers in the plaza, taking little notice of landmarks like fountains or sofas or vending machines: he cuts through them all and heads down a gloomy alleyway with no guide but the invisible trail he's following.

One has to hope it's a reliable spell, because the alley seems to go on forever. Brick walls stretch ahead either side, lined with unassuming door after dripping airlock after unassuming door. But when the plaza itself is lost to view behind them Stratos suddenly speeds his pace, running the last few yards to the destination his spell marks.

Glass crunches under his boot as he stops in front of the plain brick wall. There's a strange burning smell in the air. What chemicals were burned he couldn't guess, but the meaning of the glass shards spread before them is plainer to see. The shattered hazard symbol stares up at them. Stratos takes a slow, deliberate breath before he looks at the man beside him.

Jim follows without question, staying on the tribune's heels as he passes through the plaza, away from the search area that he and Adia had already covered. The alleyway gives him only a moment's pause, a flicker of concern that this is a hell of a place to get trapped, and he keeps a wary eye on their rear as they go deeper and deeper into the narrow space.

He smells it before he sees it.

It's been months, but he will never forget that stench. Burning durasteel, vaporized industrial lubricants, vented coolant. Jim's step falters, an awful weight sinking in his gut at the uncomfortably familiar stench of the Enterprise's war wounds. Except this time, the ship isn't there, wounded but still aloft. There is no door leading to one of the centerpieces of his nightmares, the place where he bled and died for his crew.

It's just a brick wall, a carpet of shattered fragments all that's left of the airlock to the warp core.

Gone.

Jim stops, and reaches a hand out to steady himself against the bricks opposite the vanished doorway, his face several shades paler. Coordinates do not exist. Is this what happens, three years from now? Is this how he dies, for good this time? What about the crew?

He can't let his thoughts run wild, not yet, not when all they have is proof that something catastrophic happened to the ship. They don't know anything else for sure. But what else can they do? Where else to go from here? He visibly rallies himself, straightening and stepping away from the wall that had been holding him up. "There has to be another way."

"There is one," Stratos says roughly, pulling his hand back from the instinctive reach to comfort a man who looks so like the one he knows. And then, because both of them need to hear it said out loud, he adds, "And he is alive. I have been assured of that." He's good at sounding certain of himself. Of sounding like he's in control of the situation even if once again a man he considers family has vanished, lost to an uncertain fate.

It took a while for him to become truly afraid, the first time. Now his nerves are already strung tight as the day he led that mismatched rescue party into his own realm.

"My brother has the co-ordinates for a house on Ji- his Earth." The tribune passes his helmet between hands so he can pull a modern Earth phone from a pocket beneath his quasi-Roman armor. Carpe anachronism. "If I can persuade him to share them, perhaps you can learn more than he has."

"What?" Just pull the rug out from underneath him, why don't you. Jim had been preparing himself for the worst, after seeing what remains of the other captain's Nexus door. He can't be too pissed, though; just knowing that his counterpart is still breathing - though in what sort of condition, he supposes he still has to guess - is a weight off his shoulders. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to get a fucking grip on himself. "You could've lead with that."

Okay. Other Jim is not dead, somehow. Which leads him to another question. "How do you know that?" he asks, frowning a little. The answer's probably magic, but the more he knows, the better he might be able to help track down the older captain.

The sudden appearance of more advanced Earth tech doesn't make him so much as blink an eye. Not here, in the Nexus. It's the words that catch his full attention. A house? There's only one place like that where he could imagine the other captain designating as a safe landing zone. "If you get my foot in the door, I'll do anything I can to help find him." Though he'll have to draw the line at calling Starfleet - there's no way that won't look suspicious as hell.

Edited 2018-01-13 04:11 (UTC)

"One of the Nexus mages attempted to send him a message on my behalf." And if Stratos had any doubts about strange foreign magic, or if his faith in Jim's survival is less about evidence than refusing the alternative... he's not going to admit that. It's not a discussion either of them needs.

"She was certain of his condition, though as to where he could be found or how to reach him... one moment, excuse me." He's frowning deeply at the message waiting on his phone, fumbling a reply to Felix on the little keypad.

He doesn't have to wait on an answer himself: there's a little PINpoint flash as another man appears beside them. He's about ten years younger than the tribune, a bit shorter and lighter-built under his rumpled blue tunic and trousers. His hair is still odd - the black is growing in again, giving him dark uneven roots and small streaks in otherwise stark white hair.

There's enough similarity in their features to guess this is Stratos's brother, even before he turns right on the tribune and exclaims, "I got a message!"

Stratos glances apologetically at the captain. "Yes, I sent-"

"No, I mean Jim sent a message, Stratos. At least I think it was him. But all he sent was a string of-" The wild-eyed young mage takes note of the other Jim standing there at last, and his expression changes rapidly much as the elder Caelus's did earlier. A split second of stunned hope- and then his eyes narrow sharply. He sounds much calmer when he asks frostily, "Who is this?"

Nexus mages? Jim can think of several people who fit that description, although in a place like this, it's impossible to say if it's someone he knows. Still, he'll take it. Assuming that the other captain is alive until proven otherwise is far, far better than the alternative, for so many reasons.

He may have never met Felix before, but it's a damn good educated guess that that's who this is. A Tamriel native, familiar enough with his alternate to have access to the house, an almost desperate hope on his face - before he sees the bearded captain standing here, anyway.

By now, he's become somewhat used to the doubletakes, the occasional look of suspicion, but somehow it's a little different coming from this man. Jim has a pretty damn good idea how fucking weird it must be for the guy, suddenly meeting someone who looks almost exactly like his missing... fiancé? Boyfriend? Whatever. Jim has questions, but he can tell he's not getting anywhere until this gets straightened out. "I'm Jim Kirk, just from a different universe than your Jim. I'm a... friend of his." He's not sure that entirely describes the strangely familiar rapport the two captains have been developing, but there might not even be a word that does that. 'Friend' will have to do. "I've been trying to find out what happened to him since yesterday." If this really is Felix, like Jim assumes, he's pretty sure he won't have to explain why that date in particular.

Felix's icy stare falters at last when he mentions the date. Yes, Felix understands. And the way this man casually sidestepped it is the most convincing evidence of his identity so far. Still he looks back at Stratos, the question written all over his face. You know illusions. Is he real? Only when his brother gives a tiny nod does he fold his arms, lifting his chin and giving the man a more neutral kind of scrutiny.

"Felix Caelus, conjurer and... apprentice battlemage in the Imperial Legion." Happy, Stratos? He gave his real rank and everything. He's being responsible.

"He sent a message to the house today," he goes on, brushing over the awkward meeting. He's not quite looking at the bearded Jim now, but however grudging he's accepting the man's existence. "He or someone acting under his name. But I don't understand what it means: it's just a long string of numbers. They make no sense as co-ordinates; I thought perhaps it was a code, but we never spoke about anything like that before." He sounds a little frustrated - finally a sign that the man's alive, and all he does is send a bunch of numbers.

So, this is Felix. Jim certainly doesn't plan to hold that frosty reception against him; after all, he's pretty wound up himself, trying to find out what the fuck happened to the other captain. Maybe it's a shame that they're meeting like this, but at the very least, their goal is the same.

To that end, he pays close attention to the mage as he speaks, trying to fit together the scattered clues he's gotten so far into a picture that makes sense. "Starfleet does have codes like that, but if you haven't talked about it before..." Jim frowns, rubbing at his beard as he thinks. There are a few possibilities, but to narrow it down... "What are the numbers? I might be able to recognize it. Or at least take a guess what he was thinking."

Felix opens his mouth- then reaches for a satchel that's not slung over his shoulder, then fumbles in his pockets.

"Didn't you write it down?" Stratos asks, trying not to pressure his brother but frowning at this uncharacteristic neglect. They are mages, after all - who finds a mysterious message and leaves without a copy of it?

"I didn't have paper to hand..." Ah, phone. Did he...? His expression creases in frustration as he scrolls through photographs, double-checking... and swears in Dunmeri. "...Namira take it, I just ran straight here." His mouth draws tight with embarrassment. Ugh. "I-I'll fetch it-"

"Or," Stratos interjects quickly, seizing the opportunity, "you might bring this captain back to look at it. If you're willing to try and assist," he adds politely, looking at Jim. "Who better to interpret the code and determine how to proceed?"

"Willing and able." Jim tries not to sound too eager to go, but fuck, he wants to get to the bottom of this and now that it's being dangled right in front of him, how can he not jump at the chance? He knows damn well he won't be able to relax until he knows, one way or another, whether his counterpart is okay. Just 'alive' isn't good enough.

"It'll be faster than going back and forth," he adds, if Felix is reluctant to bring him along. "If nothing else, I'd be another set of eyes to help look for any more clues."

For a couple of seconds it looks like Felix does want to object. His mouth draws tight: he glares at Stratos before his eyes flit back to Jim. He knows when he hasn't a hope of winning an argument. Were it not an argument concerning Jim he wouldn't even hesitate in giving up. The fear that's been gnawing at him for months now has him clutching what he knows the way a starved wolf holds onto a bone.

Nonetheless. He can't refuse the chance.

"Very well." He bites his lip, but lifts his chin in something like hauteur before he sets the co-ordinates and offers his hand. He can keep his cool. He can deal with unsettling doppelgangers of the vanished man he loves. He can get through this without breaking down and demanding to know what the fuck the Nexus is trying to do to him.

They're going to find Jim. That's all that matters.

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New Year, New Trials

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Sorry Jim, Stratos got run over by the timey-wimey ball there

Gotta love wibbly-wobbly timelines

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