Out of the woods

Vulcans are a unusual species

So Jim was in a universe similar to the Prime universe. That made a lot of sense. Spock was already born. Bones was already born three years ago on the planet Earth. Jim hadn't been born, yet. Jim knew the future or at least bits of it. He was sitting down in a seat contemplating his background. Who were his parents? Did he have a brother? Jim was the only one in the shuttle along with the two pilots who were Vulcans.

"This is the captain speaking," Came a slurred voice. Great, the captain is drunk. Wait, what? "Make sure to put on your seatbelts."

Jim raised a eyebrow.

They were heading toward Earth in space and he had thought there was no need to buckle up. In fact, buckling up had become a past time as travel in space within certain borders was declared safe. No need to be armed with seatbelts of the past though there was need for stasis pods, escape pods, and emergency escape shuttles for in case there was a emergency that harmed the people of the ship. The self destruction protocol was made to annihilate any threats inside the ship. One that Jim had rarely used when he captained a ship. Jim only used it once to make a point he wouldn't let another race get home while a entire colony died because they didn't get the medical vaccines.

Thankfully, the ship didn't get destroyed and they were able to save lives.

"Captain, you shouldn't be drinking."

"It's the only thing that keeps me straight on my mind."

"Vulcan's do not get affected by alcohol. You have been drinking a strange form of alcohol that harms your liver."

"Affirmative."

"Why?"

"It's the only thing that drowns out my pain."

"Are you losing your mind?"

"Captain out."

The doors to the pilot's cabin were closed, just as they should be, leaving him sitting there on the seat. Jim saw the gleaming stars pass the windows. It was peaceful up here. Nothing bad could go wrong. The stars, the ones millions of light years away, were the ones that truly inspired people to go up into space and go where no man has gone before. He remembered sitting on the roof of the electric powered car's roof watching the night sky outside the family house on the hill. His arms were behind his head. He could remember the sound of crickets. The fireflies were out decorating the night scenery. The fireflies and the stars were a sight that was beyond words. He could see the edges of the universe staring right back at him showing clouds of dust.

Beautiful Iowa.

Iowa!

He grew up in Iowa!

Suddenly Jim was jerked out of his recollection. The shuttle was spinning. What the hell were the Vulcans up to? Jim used the rails as his guide to the pilots cabin. He knocked on the door only for the door itself to open to reveal one snoring drunk Pilot and the other leaned to his side unconscious. Jim saw a bottle of whisky, old style, beside the drunken pilot's sleeping body. They were spinning down toward Earth. They had about maybe thirty-minutes. Fifteen, tops. They were tearing through the atmosphere heading to what is apparently a street. The heat was burning against the side of the ship conflicting against the window. Jim tried to shake the drunk pilot awake.

"No, mother," The drunk pilot said. "I am not going to school right now. It is illogical to attend school with the flue. Oh mother. . ."

Jim piloted a shuttle before.

Yes, he had.

Jim shoved the drunken pilot out of his chair then grabbed onto the steering wheel, and raised the side shields up. He gravitate the ship up rather than down slowing the trajectory of the ship by 68.47% though Spock would insist it was twenty point twenty-eight percent if he were here. Oh, so Spock is the kind of 'very precise' person. Hmm, interesting. Jim swooped over the street safely making it over several floating cars above the ground. He then searched around for a landing pad. People didn't notice that he just prevented a terrible accident. There had to be a landing passenger craft pad somewhere around here. The drunken pilot was curled up sucking on his thumb.

Jim had a brief head shake.

He found a passenger landing pad.

"Phew," Jim said. "The old man would be impressed I saved not one but two Vulcans!"

He set the landing procedures, carefully, until the passenger ship came to a gentle landing.

The Vulcan beside Jim awoke with a jerk.

"Good afternoon, Vulcan," Jim said. "How was it like being pinched by one of your own?"

The Vulcan blinked.

"Unpleasent," The Vulcan said. "You landed this ship?"

"Uh huh." Jim said.

The Vulcan lowered his head then raised it back up.

"I am in your debt." The Vulcan said.

"Yeah, and so is your friend in need of rehab." Jim said, pointing over to the drunken Vulcan.

The Vulcan sighed.

"He has chosen to embrace his emotions and they are, in turn, killing him." The Vulcan said.

"It'll kill him, Jim." Came a older familiar voice.

This conversation regarded a Vulcan forced to have emotions because of some bored god-like beings.

"I see," Jim said. "Since I just saved your life and your friend. . . Mind if we take him to a rehab?"

"Vulcans going into rehab is a rare occurrence." The Vulcan said.

"So is Vulcans joining. . ." Jim snapped his fingers. "Oh god, what I am trying to think?"

"Obviously something important." The Vulcan said.

Jim got out of the chair then came to the back side of the drunken Vulcan.

"Is sucking their thumbs a usual thing?" Jim asked.

"I believe the term for that form of cowardly is 'pussy' or for this form of childism 'drunken mess'." The Vulcan said.

Jim had a slow laugh.

"What is your name?"

"Skork Piurgpjek. . . And he is Mipac Gkjdkjndsakn."

"Okay Skork, let's get our friend Mipac to rehab."