It was late.
The bridge was deserted as Jim slowly sank into his chair, watching the monitors as they flashed and whirred. He loved the large white room the most when it was like this quiet and still. There was something wonderful about looking out of the large window, watching as space bent around the enterprise. Jim knew one thing for sure, this was so much better than that shit hole in Iowa where Pike had found him.
He had been down to the med bay and forced Bones into giving him enough stimulants to jump-start a tractor. He had a bottle full of the little red pills in his room. Jim had thought that he was tired, but the hallucinations-well-he hadn’t expected that. Normally, he would have just treated it with a glass or two of hyper vodka, but this was worrying enough to convince him to seek help. Of course he neglected to mention to the good doctor who exactly he had been hallucinating about. Bones looked stressed enough as it was, and it wasn’t like he couldn’t handle himself.
They only had about thirty-four hours left until they reached their destination. Ares was a small planet on the far border of Klingon space. It boasted one of the largest cities this far out in the black, but the surface was mostly uninhabitable desert. Starfleet had been receiving transmissions from the capitol reporting the sight of several strange ships flying frightening close to the atmosphere, who, when hailed had made no response at all. Jim had not wanted to go on this mission at all. He had wanted to stay as far away from anything Klingon as physically possible, but Spock had taken an unhealthy interest in it. Only god knew why his first officer seemed to be the one giving all of the orders on his ship, but here they were.