hey, ho, to the ends of the earth I’d go

Overly Devoted Archivist Uncategorized brooklyn 99, star trek, this is great 0 Comments

phil-the-stone:

(shoutout to @weaslayyy)

Okay, but imagine
this:

After years and years
in Starfleet, Raymond Holt is finally given his own command, entrusted with
nothing less than everyone’s dream ship; the USS Brooklyn. He’s determined, unwavering in his promise to himself
(and, privately, his husband Kevin and pet dog Cheddar) to complete their five
year mission, maintain his command, and – secondary only to carrying out their
mandate and exploring brand new worlds, forging unknown frontiers – ensure that
his crew is the most competent and admired in the fleet.

He comes in with a
straight back, carefully-steamed command golds, and high expectations of all of
his officers. He knows that a large chunk of them – the bridge crew, at least –
have been working together for quite some time prior to his arrival. That’s
good, he tells himself. They’re accustomed to each other’s motions, familiar
with each other’s habits. They can overcome the change in command together, and
everything will be perfectly fine.

One week into their
mission, Captain Raymond Holt, one of the first half-Vulcans to be given the
captain’s chair in Starfleet history, comes to understand several things:

1) Commander Terry
Jeffords is built like a brick house, makes sure everyone is eating their
vegetables (even when the only vegetables available are from the admittedly
sometimes faulty mess replicator), and somehow manages to be the most motherly
person on board despite his affinity for intimidating the rest of the crew into
getting their annual physical exams. He’s been around for a long time, since he
himself was barely a Lieutenant, and Holt’s worked with him before. He’s a good
man, and a loyal first officer, and the crew trusts him. There’s only one
problem – Holt doesn’t have the heart to explain to his new XO that having an
extreme phobia of space is not conducive to extended space travel
(brass-mandated therapy sessions regardless) especially not when it stems from
the love for one’s young family. He’s working on it, though. Hopefully.

2) His head engineer,
Lieutenant Commander Rosa Diaz, scares everyone, smiles rarely, and has a thing
for motorcycles. She also knows how to fix all the equipment she breaks (”in
completely justified rage,” Helmsman Peralta tells him in his most cheerfully
obnoxious voice) so he doesn’t see any reason why he should intervene. Some
people say she worked for pirates in her teens, before she joined Starfleet;
Holt decides not to ask, and Rosa doesn’t volunteer the information. But she’s
good at what she does, can get the ship to purr like a Selhat on its worst
days, and Holt respects her apparent emotional apathy. He says apparent,
because, well, Peralta also claims that she’s his fairy godmother, but that’s
something else Holt has decided not to ask about.

3) Helmsman Jacob
Peralta is the best helmsman he’s ever seen and the biggest pain in the ass
he’s ever met, even after he starts actually arriving at the bridge on time for
his shift. It’s made worst by the fact that he’s best friends with the
navigations officer, a man named Boyle, and Peralta’s insistence at
intermittently quoting what he claims are classic twentieth-century cop movies,
of all things, as he goes about his duties; peace and quiet on the bridge are
nigh non-existent at least ninety-two percent of the time. Jeffords tells him
that Peralta’s been with the Brooklyn
since he got out of the Academy, him and Diaz some of their youngest recruits.
His heart’s in the right place, Holt supposes resignedly, but …. there are a
lot of rough edges. He’s clever, though, fast on his feet and a damn good
negotiator, making him invaluable on many away missions; his favourite thing in
the universe, though, is making the jump to light speed, his eyes alight with
excitement every time he pushes down the lever. He’s also hopelessly in
love with the communications officer, but Holt doesn’t think (hopes) that it’ll
cause him to pilot them into a black hole, or anything. Probably.

4) Lieutenant Amy
Santiago is obsessive compulsive, amazingly competitive and desperately working
towards a command of her own one day. She’s also the most precise
communications officer on board, which is why she’s the head of comms, can
speak a ridiculous number of languages, and somehow manages to revert from her
calm, determined poise at the end of a communication – or, indeed, during the
duration of a first-contact mission, something she and Peralta excel at
together, against all odds – to an awkward, anxious mess whenever she’s faced
with the prospect of impressing anyone. Holt wonders how many times he’ll be
called beautiful before Santiago realizes that he thinks her quite competent
and capable as she is. Holt also (very privately; he doesn’t even
confide in Cheddar, this time) wonders how many times it’s going to take
Peralta metaphorically (and literally, once, dear Lord)
tugging at the end of her impeccable ponytail for her to cease the ridiculous
bet they have going (who can successfully lead the most away missions, Holt
thinks with a resigned sigh) and accept that she makes eyes at the ridiculous
helsman’s back when she thinks no one’s looking.

(Everyone’s looking.)

(Except Peralta, but,
oh, well.)

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