Kirk woke up to the door of his room getting thrown open and a voice barking at the prisoners within, a rude change from the usual cheery nurse — or even the usual creepily cheery Head Doctor announcement. Huh. So Landel really was gone. Kirk received exactly two seconds to contemplate this before he was being ordered to get dressed and report to the cafeteria. Get dressed? As he sat up in bed, he realized that he was wearing something different from the familiar greys: starched black and blue, uncomfortable in that undeniably military way. Jim might technically be a soldier, but it had still taken him a month to get used to the stiff cadet uniform. Collars didn't suit him. Command golds, on the other hand...
A pair of black leather boots stood beside the bed, and Kirk pulled them on without being told twice. For all this new uniform lacked in comfort, he was willing to accept never having to wear cheap slippers again. Or that stupid yellow smiley, but — as he looked himself over again — that particular bit seemed to have escaped onto the black band already secured around his arm. Oh well.
Kirk started for the exit, but the soldier blocked his way, and pointed to an object on the dresser. "Your beret," she informed him.
"Seriously?" he asked. The soldier stared silently at Kirk, her flat expression saying enough. For a reckless second, he considered testing his new guard's stoicism with a playfully smart-aleck comment, but he expected that to go over about as well as flirting with Spock. Make that Spock with a firearm. Okay then. Kirk tugged the beret over his hair, and the soldier executed a crisp turn out of the room.
Unsurprisingly, he wasn't the only one with new duds. If he'd found the presence of soldiers jarring yesterday, it was nothing compared to seeing the mild hospital hallways crammed with military uniforms. Even more unexpected than that was the way his escort headed him off when he tried to detour to the bulletin board, citing some new regulation about bulletin privileges. Kirk's misgivings only grew when he caught the smell coming from the cafeteria — or, more accurately, the lack of smell. No fried food, broiled meat, or sweet cakes. Nothing but a mountain of cleaning supplies in the center of the room. Another soldier stepped out of the lineup of black, and the reason for it became clear enough.
As everyone feared, the regime change had brought harsher wardens. This, Kirk could handle — god knew he'd endured these kinds of punishments before, if not in Starfleet Academy before he'd figured out his attitude needed an adjustment, then back on the farmhouse with his stepfather. Honestly, it was less confusing to actually be treated like prisoners for once... but as much as this made more sense, Kirk didn't expect Aguilar's strictness to end with mops and soap buckets.
He spotted Spock in the crowd ahead, and quickly made his way over after procuring a scrubber and bucket himself. Mopping and sweeping would allow him more dignity, but Kirk couldn't be too pressed to care about appearances right now. He knew what they were trying to do by forcing the "insubordinate" prisoners to stand and watch, but it would be hypocrisy for him to resent them for wanting to take a swing at the staff.
Kirk knew who the real enemy was, and it wasn't the people trapped here with him.
"You know, the new uniform suits you way better. You wearing that happy face kind of creeped me out." He plunked his bucket on the floor and kneeled down beside Spock. So much for their spotless, perfectly creased pants. "So what do you make of all this?"
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A pair of black leather boots stood beside the bed, and Kirk pulled them on without being told twice. For all this new uniform lacked in comfort, he was willing to accept never having to wear cheap slippers again. Or that stupid yellow smiley, but — as he looked himself over again — that particular bit seemed to have escaped onto the black band already secured around his arm. Oh well.
Kirk started for the exit, but the soldier blocked his way, and pointed to an object on the dresser. "Your beret," she informed him.
"Seriously?" he asked. The soldier stared silently at Kirk, her flat expression saying enough. For a reckless second, he considered testing his new guard's stoicism with a playfully smart-aleck comment, but he expected that to go over about as well as flirting with Spock. Make that Spock with a firearm. Okay then. Kirk tugged the beret over his hair, and the soldier executed a crisp turn out of the room.
Unsurprisingly, he wasn't the only one with new duds. If he'd found the presence of soldiers jarring yesterday, it was nothing compared to seeing the mild hospital hallways crammed with military uniforms. Even more unexpected than that was the way his escort headed him off when he tried to detour to the bulletin board, citing some new regulation about bulletin privileges. Kirk's misgivings only grew when he caught the smell coming from the cafeteria — or, more accurately, the lack of smell. No fried food, broiled meat, or sweet cakes. Nothing but a mountain of cleaning supplies in the center of the room. Another soldier stepped out of the lineup of black, and the reason for it became clear enough.
As everyone feared, the regime change had brought harsher wardens. This, Kirk could handle — god knew he'd endured these kinds of punishments before, if not in Starfleet Academy before he'd figured out his attitude needed an adjustment, then back on the farmhouse with his stepfather. Honestly, it was less confusing to actually be treated like prisoners for once... but as much as this made more sense, Kirk didn't expect Aguilar's strictness to end with mops and soap buckets.
He spotted Spock in the crowd ahead, and quickly made his way over after procuring a scrubber and bucket himself. Mopping and sweeping would allow him more dignity, but Kirk couldn't be too pressed to care about appearances right now. He knew what they were trying to do by forcing the "insubordinate" prisoners to stand and watch, but it would be hypocrisy for him to resent them for wanting to take a swing at the staff.
Kirk knew who the real enemy was, and it wasn't the people trapped here with him.
"You know, the new uniform suits you way better. You wearing that happy face kind of creeped me out." He plunked his bucket on the floor and kneeled down beside Spock. So much for their spotless, perfectly creased pants. "So what do you make of all this?"