it is not clear why we choose the fire pathway, where we end is not the way that we had planned(♫)
[ It's been a hell of a day. This morning, Daisy Johnson had been on Zephyr-3 with her team, drinking coffee and prepping for their next meeting with yet another alien species who would hopefully see Terrans as potential friends instead of food. Everything had seemed normal, no signs at all that things would go pear-shaped before dinner. Nothing could have prepared her for any of this.
The distress call comes from new allies, tentative friends who would lose all faith if they were ignored. It's a simple engine failure on their ship, easy enough for the Z-3 engineers to repair or for the ship to transport the crew back to their planet. They'll miss their meeting window if they all go, though, so Daisy makes the executive decision to go ahead alone in the quinjet shuttle. She can handle things by herself until the team catch up, and while they don't all like the decision, she's the one in charge.
She really should have listened.
After all these years, she should have known to expect the universe to do its worst to screw with her life. But a wormhole swallowing up her ship en route to the planet is a whole new level of screwing with her. The journey knocks her out, her ship jerking with violent force, and when she wakes... She's never been out on the ocean, never experienced that feeling of being truly alone with no one in sight before, but she imagines it must feel a lot like being adrift in space without functional navigation.
After spending too much time failing to get the computer system to cooperate, she gets on the comms, trying to reach anyone who could help her and doing her best not to completely lose her shit as anxiety and panic set in. The whole dying in space thing? She's done that one and doesn't really fancy the idea of a repeat performance. Ultimately, that's what pushes her to just pick a direction and hope for the best — she can't just keep drifting, she has to do something. If Z-3 is too far out of range to reply, then she needs to either get back to them or wait somewhere safe for them to find her.
It takes hours for her to finally come across a planet, so many that her stomach reminds her that the coffee and protein bar that served as breakfast that morning had been long ago. But more important than food is getting somewhere with a breathable atmosphere so she has one less thing trying to kill her. Of course, the getting down to the planet is a... process. She'd been hoping to come across a space station or another ship, those she knows how to dock with now, but a planet? It's a miracle she manages to get down to the surface without the ship burning up in entry, and it's yet another miracle when the ensuing crash doesn't end in a fiery explosion, just a crumpled shuttle that she's pretty sure won't be flying again.
Cool. Cool cool cool. This is totally not fine. But at least she can breathe the air and the computer can still send out the beacon for when Z-3 finds its way to this part of space. (When, not if.) In the meantime, she'll just... see if she can find someone who doesn't want to eat her. If there are even inhabitants out there in that rocky landscape. ]
[Knowledge came in endless forms. While Spock excelled in certain learning platforms over others, the general pursuit of exploring new ideas and debating existing theories was more than fascinating. It was necessary in Spock’s mind. Advancement came through exchange, and the sharing of information with new life forms was perhaps his favorite aspect of being a Starfleet member. He had no regrets for turning down a position at the Vulcan Science Academy, for his life having taken a very different course than anticipated. While the developments at the Academy paled to none, it was also very different from the offworld exploratory work that he did now with Enterprise. It also brought him into everyday contact with those who held different viewpoints, given he was one of the few Vulcans serving in Starfleet. It sometimes proved difficult, yet it was never stated that growth was meant to happen with ease. Change was a disruption, but adaptation was experience marrying trial and error.
Never was this more prominent than when handling diplomatic tensions. Spock had been chosen to handle political tensions that had arisen near the Neutral Zone between the Klingons and several outpost colonies. By the time he’d arrived tensions had bubbled over into violence, but himself along with a few other delegates and locals had managed to place treaty talks upon the table. He was never one to say that it could have been worse, but he also knew that there was little to be gained thinking of what might have happened had he arrived sooner. Pike had been pleased with his handling of the situation and said as much. The unspoken but acknowledged sacrifice Spock knew that Pike was to make was threaded in the undertone of the conversation. Pike wouldn’t be the first to pay the price so that Spock might live, and it was hard to imagine himself so important to be worth multiple lives. Not that he said as much, of course. Certainly not now when he was preparing his shuttle to return.
The shuttle was Enterprise’s, which meant that it was top of the line. However, it was also still a shuttle and limited in its functions. Even Spock couldn’t evade the peculiar wormhole that opened and pulled in his ship, leaving him stranded in a new part of the galaxy. Not the best of situations, but he’d dealt with worse. He took stock of his ship’s rations, shields, and systems. He wasn’t able to plot a course in an unknown area, so manual flying it was while keeping his radar sensors open. It took a little tweaking to keep them online due to some damage, but he managed it. It did seem the most logical to land at the nearest habitable planet, given he didn’t know when another might appear.
The planet's extraordinary magnetic fields tugged in and broke apart meteorites, sending them into a constant swirling pattern around the planet where they would shatter into dust and reform from the remnants. It made landing difficult and he didn’t make it without some damage. While he was making assessments he noted that his barely functioning sensors were picking up a distress call from not too far away. It could be a trap, or it could be someone with some answers. The biggest reason he got up and moved though was that it might be someone in trouble.
Taking a pack with supplies with him, Spock set out for where the beacon was coming from.The waters that lapped at a nearby shore were a murky, milky white in color, although it still carried a saline note to it when he breathed in the air. The fields surrounding it were wild, with hardy, dark colored floral and trees running through it in an obvious pattern rather than the bright, tropical undergrowth of a more humid climate or dry desert. It was hard to tell if the air was naturally this humid or if a storm was brewing. He’d have loved to study it more in depth, but for now he merely kept an eye open. Eventually he came across a humanoid woman near the dilapidated ship that was a model he was not familiar with.
He paused a healthy distance from her, holding up a hand rather than going for a weapon. Interesting that two shuttles should land here in poor condition. He couldn’t help but muse over what it might mean.]
Greetings. My shuttle picked up a distress call. I can see at least partially why one was set off. [Given he can see the shuttle.] I have limited medical supplies that can be shared, if you are injured.
[ After so many years out in space, it's not the aliens that get to her. Green or blue skin, four hands instead of two, antennae — it's all part of her normal now. No, what really hits her hardest is how alien the planets can be. Her entire life, Daisy has searched for a home; she finally found it with SHIELD, and while she loves exploring the universe, there's a part of her that always longs for the blue skies and oceans of Earth. So while the planet around her has its own kind of beauty, she can't help but feel its stark otherness in her heart.
Her senses are still adjusting to the strange feel of the planet, so she doesn't notice the stranger's approach until he stops and speaks. Whirling the half-turn to face him, she holds a hand out with the palm toward him; she doesn't need a weapon when she is one herself. She lowers her hand again when she sees he's unarmed himself, though, and her tense stance loosens slightly as he finishes. ]
No, I'm okay. Thanks.
[ There will likely be some colorful bruises in various places tomorrow thanks to being tossed around so much, but she's been through a lot worse and lived to tell the tale. Besides, if his supplies are limited, she sure as hell doesn't want him wasting them on her. That's when she notices those signs that let on that he's not human — because of course he isn't, there are hardly any humans who have left Earth yet. But those ears and a few facial features confirm it.
Okay, she can do this. Communicating with aliens is part of her job description. ]
My name's Daisy. I'm Terran, from Earth. I don't mean to be abrupt, but do you have access to long-range communications? I was cut off from my ship and I need to get back to them.
[Earth, curious. He knew the word Terran, but it wasn’t common in his experience for people from earth to call themselves such. Still, he simply tucked that fact away for now to examine further later. Much like Daisy, Spock’s job is centered around exploring space and encountering new cultures. He can’t imagine a better position than being on Enterprise, the premiere exploratory vessel in Starfleet. While he was quite used to encountering the unknown these days, it never actually got old for him. He suspected that the day it did would be the time he’d consider retiring, but that is a very long way off. Perhaps it might never even come. At his heart he was a scientist, and even if he was taken off a ship he imagined he’d still find questions to assess and want to answer.
Unfortunately, some answers were easier than others.]
I understand the urgency. [He was in rather the same state himself.] Unfortunately, my long-range systems are offline at the moment, but I do believe the damage is repairable. I am amenable to you using them once they are functioning. The distress call took precedence, but as you are largely uninjured, the repairs are now the main priority.
[He could only hope that his time on the lam and general knowledge would be sufficient to get his systems back up and running efficiently and in time. He didn’t regret first seeing if someone was in dire need of help, but he was also well aware that he wasn’t in that great of a position himself, either. Even for him this was a tall task to complete on his own.]
[ Daisy wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he didn't know Earth or Terrans — they've encountered more than a few civilizations that weren't familiar with the "undeveloped" planet whose natives hadn't even made it out of their own solar system yet. It had only been a little over a decade since Earth had been invaded by the Chitauri and humanity had been rocked by the now very public knowledge that they were not alone in the universe. So, if anything, it still surprises her when others do recognize her species, since it only serves to further their understanding of how many visitors they've actually had over the centuries.
(Her own people are a direct result of one of those visits. If the Kree had never come to Earth and performed experiments on humans, Inhumans wouldn't exist. She wouldn't exist.)
Glancing back at the shuttle that looks a bit like a battered tin can, she has absolutely no idea how to fix her own systems or the numerous mechanical problems. But that doesn't mean she's useless. ]
I can help. [ A beat, then with just slightly less confidence: ] Well, I'm not an engineer or anything, but I can hold things and follow directions. Let me just grab my gear.
[ Moving around to the back of the shuttle, she grabs the backpack she'd left at the bottom of the ramp that's now stuck in the lowered position because of damaged hydraulics. It's just one of many issues she'd been able to diagnose but has no idea how to repair on her own. At least her tablet wasn't damaged in the crash — if something happens and she's not able to make it back here, she'll still be able to communicate with the shuttle's computer. ]
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Never was this more prominent than when handling diplomatic tensions. Spock had been chosen to handle political tensions that had arisen near the Neutral Zone between the Klingons and several outpost colonies. By the time he’d arrived tensions had bubbled over into violence, but himself along with a few other delegates and locals had managed to place treaty talks upon the table. He was never one to say that it could have been worse, but he also knew that there was little to be gained thinking of what might have happened had he arrived sooner. Pike had been pleased with his handling of the situation and said as much. The unspoken but acknowledged sacrifice Spock knew that Pike was to make was threaded in the undertone of the conversation. Pike wouldn’t be the first to pay the price so that Spock might live, and it was hard to imagine himself so important to be worth multiple lives. Not that he said as much, of course. Certainly not now when he was preparing his shuttle to return.
The shuttle was Enterprise’s, which meant that it was top of the line. However, it was also still a shuttle and limited in its functions. Even Spock couldn’t evade the peculiar wormhole that opened and pulled in his ship, leaving him stranded in a new part of the galaxy. Not the best of situations, but he’d dealt with worse. He took stock of his ship’s rations, shields, and systems. He wasn’t able to plot a course in an unknown area, so manual flying it was while keeping his radar sensors open. It took a little tweaking to keep them online due to some damage, but he managed it. It did seem the most logical to land at the nearest habitable planet, given he didn’t know when another might appear.
The planet's extraordinary magnetic fields tugged in and broke apart meteorites, sending them into a constant swirling pattern around the planet where they would shatter into dust and reform from the remnants. It made landing difficult and he didn’t make it without some damage. While he was making assessments he noted that his barely functioning sensors were picking up a distress call from not too far away. It could be a trap, or it could be someone with some answers. The biggest reason he got up and moved though was that it might be someone in trouble.
Taking a pack with supplies with him, Spock set out for where the beacon was coming from.The waters that lapped at a nearby shore were a murky, milky white in color, although it still carried a saline note to it when he breathed in the air. The fields surrounding it were wild, with hardy, dark colored floral and trees running through it in an obvious pattern rather than the bright, tropical undergrowth of a more humid climate or dry desert. It was hard to tell if the air was naturally this humid or if a storm was brewing. He’d have loved to study it more in depth, but for now he merely kept an eye open. Eventually he came across a humanoid woman near the dilapidated ship that was a model he was not familiar with.
He paused a healthy distance from her, holding up a hand rather than going for a weapon. Interesting that two shuttles should land here in poor condition. He couldn’t help but muse over what it might mean.]
Greetings. My shuttle picked up a distress call. I can see at least partially why one was set off. [Given he can see the shuttle.] I have limited medical supplies that can be shared, if you are injured.
no subject
Her senses are still adjusting to the strange feel of the planet, so she doesn't notice the stranger's approach until he stops and speaks. Whirling the half-turn to face him, she holds a hand out with the palm toward him; she doesn't need a weapon when she is one herself. She lowers her hand again when she sees he's unarmed himself, though, and her tense stance loosens slightly as he finishes. ]
No, I'm okay. Thanks.
[ There will likely be some colorful bruises in various places tomorrow thanks to being tossed around so much, but she's been through a lot worse and lived to tell the tale. Besides, if his supplies are limited, she sure as hell doesn't want him wasting them on her. That's when she notices those signs that let on that he's not human — because of course he isn't, there are hardly any humans who have left Earth yet. But those ears and a few facial features confirm it.
Okay, she can do this. Communicating with aliens is part of her job description. ]
My name's Daisy. I'm Terran, from Earth. I don't mean to be abrupt, but do you have access to long-range communications? I was cut off from my ship and I need to get back to them.
no subject
Unfortunately, some answers were easier than others.]
I understand the urgency. [He was in rather the same state himself.] Unfortunately, my long-range systems are offline at the moment, but I do believe the damage is repairable. I am amenable to you using them once they are functioning. The distress call took precedence, but as you are largely uninjured, the repairs are now the main priority.
[He could only hope that his time on the lam and general knowledge would be sufficient to get his systems back up and running efficiently and in time. He didn’t regret first seeing if someone was in dire need of help, but he was also well aware that he wasn’t in that great of a position himself, either. Even for him this was a tall task to complete on his own.]
no subject
(Her own people are a direct result of one of those visits. If the Kree had never come to Earth and performed experiments on humans, Inhumans wouldn't exist. She wouldn't exist.)
Glancing back at the shuttle that looks a bit like a battered tin can, she has absolutely no idea how to fix her own systems or the numerous mechanical problems. But that doesn't mean she's useless. ]
I can help. [ A beat, then with just slightly less confidence: ] Well, I'm not an engineer or anything, but I can hold things and follow directions. Let me just grab my gear.
[ Moving around to the back of the shuttle, she grabs the backpack she'd left at the bottom of the ramp that's now stuck in the lowered position because of damaged hydraulics. It's just one of many issues she'd been able to diagnose but has no idea how to repair on her own. At least her tablet wasn't damaged in the crash — if something happens and she's not able to make it back here, she'll still be able to communicate with the shuttle's computer. ]