nexus_crossings | HELP HOW DOES I ANNIVERSARY

HELP HOW DOES I ANNIVERSARY

Brace yourselves, Nexus citizens. James Tiberius Kirk is back, after a somewhat lengthy absence. Not the one who went AWOL and scared the shit out of a lot of people, as he hasn't been gone nearly long enough to grow a beard to rival the Jim that is currently standing in the plaza looking concerned, confused, and very mildly alarmed. At the very least, he isn't behaving like it's an emergency, or like anyone's life is at stake. No, his problems are of a much more mercifully benign type today. Hooray for mundane difficulties!

"What the hell do people do for anniversaries?" he asks, once he's sure that Hunter isn't anywhere to be seen. It wouldn't do to make him seem unprepared, next week. Assuming he figures out what the hell he's going to do, that is.

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Caspar's last name means little to him, and seems especially pointless in the Nexus. His full name is meaningless, as fake as the memories he was given when made a sleeper agent aboard the Chiron. But he has grown fond of Caspar. It's what Adia has always called him, he sees no reason to switch back to Five or another name of his choosing.

The comment on his drinking gets an eyebrow raise. "Can't or won't?" he asks curiously. The mention of a guitar gets a thoughtful nod. "I bet he'd like that. I can play a piano, but I'm also out of practice. And I don't know where I'd scrounge one up, anyway."

"Can't," Jim affirms with a shrug. "Part of an immune system overhaul I got here. Antibodies, turbocharged gut flora, that kinda thing. The point's to make it so I won't go around picking up exotic diseases and bringing them back home; side effect is I metabolize alcohol too fast to get intoxicated unless it's strong as hell."

There's been more than one occasion where he's regretted this decision, but avoiding becoming Typhoid Mary is unfortunately worth it.

"I bet there's somewhere around here that sells instruments, but good luck hauling a piano home without anyone noticing," he agrees with a laugh. "I can play a little violin too, but I'm even more outta practice with that."

He looks impressed. Maybe even a little jealous. "Nobody thought to do that with us," he remarks. "Maybe it wasn't possible. I sure as hell would love to not worry about getting drunk, although I suppose it's easy enough to avoid." The loss of inhibition that comes from even a couple drinks is not something Caspar has ever enjoyed. To be immune to that would be a blessing, so far as he's concerned.

There's a chuckle of amusement at the mental image of smuggling a piano back home. "Yeah, that would raise some questions. I already take enough liberties with what I buy." He pauses a moment, looking back at the display, then shakes his head. "I don't know how she does it. Hiding the Nexus from everyone for over three years."

"I could keep an eye out for the place where I got it done," Jim offers, catching that envious look on the Cylon's face. "It might pop up again one of these days, and they do custom-tailor it if you need it. I've got some annoying medical allergies, so mine had to be adapted specifically for me." Of course, just because he's looking won't mean that he'll ever find it again, but it's possible, and it's the thought that counts, right?

Jim has the information that he was looking for, but he's enjoying the conversation and the chance to get to know Caspar a little more, so he leans up against the nearest support that isn't gonna mess up the display any. "Yeah, tell me about it. I've only been keeping it from Starfleet for one year, but it's a headache and a half to cover up all the little discrepancies sometimes. Hell, I'm planning to help move over an entire fleet of refugees and half the planning's less about logistics and more about how the hell to explain them showing up all of a sudden."

His mouth twitches with distaste, but it's not directed at Jim or his offer. It's the fact that a clinic like that could appear and disappear, like one of those cursed magic shops. God, this place sometimes... "I'd appreciate that. I won't hold my breath that it'll make a return appearance."

The kiosk is good for leaning, although Caspar refrains, not quite as comfortable. But he's not making an excuse to exit the conversation, either, so that must be a good sign. "Glad to know we're not the only ones," he says with a faint smile. "You're talking about Faris' people, right? Your alternate was going to do the same thing for Adia's Fleet. It's the closest she came to telling anyone. Aside from me, I suppose."

"Yeah, the K'da and Shontine." Somehow, Jim isn't terribly surprised that Caspar knows who he's talking about. Faris is one incredibly social person, and small wonder why, given his species' need for companionship. Jim's pretty fond of the guy, himself.

Nor does he look surprised that Adia and the other Jim had been making plans to do the same. He's read her notes a dozen times over with Faris, adapting some of the logistics to their own plans. "As glad as I am that it didn't end up being necessary, the Federation would've welcomed you all if it'd come to that. Mine would've, anyway." That Caspar described it as Adia's fleet hasn't escaped his attention, but he also wants to avoid implying that only the humans would've been allowed. After all, it's not like Caspar's the only Cylon still around these days.

Caspar's smile thins out in response to the reassurance. "I'm glad it wasn't necessary, either. The War wouldn't have ended, it merely would have been put on hold." Perhaps indefinitely, but Cylons -- the Ones, specifically -- were excellent at holding grudges.

He would have likely never seen Adia again, living out the rest of her life in a completely different universe. The thought disturbs him, causes a ripple of regret over his stoic features. "You aren't worried about the Valahgua coming into your universe and stirring up trouble?"

Touchy subject, apparently. Jim decides to take a cue from Caspar and drop it. But hey, at least he's still sticking around to talk.

Jim shakes his head in response. "Nah, not really. Moving the whole fleet over is gonna take PINpoint technology, and it's not gonna leave a trail they can follow. Chances of these Valahgua guys getting their tentacles on the tech and having any idea where to look are really slim, even for this place. If they can get at the Nexus, they're a danger already regardless, and if we run into some version of them in my universe, we were probably going to cross paths eventually anyway."

Edited 2018-02-06 14:30 (UTC)

Caspar raises a brow at the blasé response. "I assume you'll be prepared for them regardless? An entire race that seems hellbent on destroying everyone else with a 'Death Cannon' or whatever it's called doesn't sound like a force that's easily nullified."

Blasé it may be, certainly, though neither is it flippant or dismissive. Jim has given this matter a good deal of thought, ever since he first offered his help to Faris in finding a new home for his peoples. A hell of a lot more thought that he would have given it a year ago, before his arrogance and misplaced assumptions cost far too many lives.

His expression does get a bit more serious when Caspar asks, though. As much as the idea of a fully militarized Starfleet doesn't sit well with him, it doesn't have to be all or nothing. "As prepared as we can be. Without technical specs, it's not really possible to develop shielding that'd block the Death effectively, though from what Faris has told me, they have to be pretty close to use it. Our mission is peaceful exploration but we're not under any delusions that the galaxy is a safe place. We have weapons with better range, and more maneuverability than their ships. We ever do go toe to toe, we won't necessarily get our asses kicked."

"Good," he says simply, glad that Jim is taking it seriously. The last thing Caspar wants is a bunch of ugly aliens wreaking havoc in a completely different universe. Because he's almost entirely positive that the Ones would have done just that, if they had the technology.

And they sure as hell better not roll up in the Nexus. He already has enough to worry about when it comes to protecting Adia. "You have a timeline yet for when you're going to bring them to your universe?"

Jim has thought about this too, and nods once in reply. "Our first good window of opportunity's gonna be the Enterprise's shakedown cruise in a couple months. I'm stuck on Earth until then, and I'm not sure it's a good idea to have the fleet make official first contact with some other Starfleet ship. Just in case."

"Sure. You'd want to handle it personally." The thought amuses him a little, drawing out a small smile. "How good are you at acting? You'll have to pretend you're meeting Faris for the first time." Come to think of it, how good is Faris at lying? The alien has a tendency to take some things literally. "Maybe you should practice beforehand."

"I'm better than I used to be, but you're right, it's a good idea to go over everything. It's not like we don't have the time." Jim shrugs with one shoulder, adding that to his mental list of things to do. If ever there was a reason to be glad it's taking so damn long to ship out, this is a good one. "My first officer's on board with the plan too, so he can back me up on it. He's a Vulcan; they've got the best poker faces in the Federation, and there's this popular stereotype that they can't lie, which isn't true."

There's a look of recognition on Caspar's face. "I met a Vulcan," he says. "Half-Vulcan, anyway. I like their philosophy." Of course he would. "Poker's a card game, right? We say 'triad face' but it's the same idea. How good's your game, Jim?"

That last additional statement makes him roll his eyes. "They say the same thing about robots." Well, not anymore they don't.

Half-Vulcan? Must be the old ambassador, then. Jim knows that the elder Spock has been here before - ran into him once himself. Caspar's question makes him chuckle though. "I'm not half-bad, but I prefer chess, personally."

He's not really that surprised that people from Caspar's universe would have that kinda stereotype too. "For non-sentient robots, that'd make sense, but otherwise that's pretty stupid." People are people, why should robotic people be any different?

"No one lets me play triad anymore because I count the cards," Caspar replies with a broad smirk. "I prefer chess, too. Card games rely too heavily on the luck of the draw. I like a game where both sides start even."

"For non-sentient robots, it's irrelevant," he's quick to point out. "And yes, it's stupid. And why would anyone believe that Vulcans can't lie? There are plenty of scenarios where it's logical to lie."

Caspar, Jim is totally on board with picking apart such a dumb stereotype. He's seen Spock do it, too - both of him, even. Misleading him with his own assumptions, lies by omission, loopholes and technicalities... what was it Spock had said? Vulcans embrace technicalities, or something like that.

"You'd think, right? People get hung up on the part where they like factual information and verifiable data, and I guess a lotta humans assume that since they don't just straight-up invent total bullshit, that means they don't lie at all. Talk about no imagination. I swear, finding loopholes is the unofficial Vulcan pastime. If Spock ever got bored of science, he'd make a hell of a lawyer."

That earns something of an amused chuckle out of Caspar. "You'd think anyone on the receiving end of that would learn that Vulcans can lie pretty damn quick." It's why the stereotype of Cylons being unable to lie hasn't lasted. Unfortunately, now everyone assumes that Caspar does nothing but lie...

"I'd take science over law, too. The legal system has a way of taking common sense and obfuscating it to the point of nonsense."

"Don't I know it." Yeah, Jim's own run-ins with the law in his not-so-distant youth were relatively straightforward, but he knows well enough what Caspar means by 'nonsense.' "If I never have to deal with it again, I'll be pretty happy."

Better to part ways on a high note this time, rather than the lingering awkwardness from the cleanup at Hunter's place. "I should probably go look into getting tickets for this Van Halen thing. Thanks again for pointing me in the right direction; I'm sure Hunter's gonna love it."

It's not like Cylons aren't above manipulating the law to their own ends, but their preference tends towards malicious compliance, not obscuring things with excess verbiage. "Same," he agrees. "One audience before the Quorum was enough."

He'd be lying if he didn't admit some relief at the conversation ending. He didn't not like talking to Jim, but he's only good for conversation for so long before he'd prefer to be left to his own thoughts. "No problem," he says, sounding sincere for once. "Enjoy yourselves." He gives a nod goodbye before heading towards the theater selling tickets to the musical about cats.

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HELP HOW DOES I ANNIVERSARY

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