Down the Tunnel (K)
by Mistress V
This is a very short one shot I thought of yesterday at the gym. It's mostly HH, with a slight ST:2009 inference (though we don't REALLY know much about the way-before times). At any rate, enjoy. Legalese: Copyright Mistress V 2009, I don't own anything, just borrow, but my own creations are my own.
Hogan gave the bedraggled flier the once over.
"Name? Rank? Serial number? Outfit?" he asked.
Stalag 13's latest unofficial arrival, a baby faced co-pilot, stuttered out the required information, his skin pale beneath the soot and grime that covered it.
"Easy, son. Have a seat and take a load off." Hogan indicated an empty chair and handed the man a tattered old scrap of cloth. "It's not exactly the Ritz," he apologized.
"It'll do, sir. Thank you." The young man proficiently scrubbed at the dirty mask hiding his youthful features. "Sorry I kind of dropped in like I did."
"We're always open," Hogan replied. "Pity the Krauts picked up the rest of your flight. Good thing the wind carried you the way it did, the other stalags don't quite provide the services we offer, you know."
"I'll say." The man's bright blue eyes took in the underground makeshift briefing room with undisguised curiosity. "This is some outfit, sir. We hear about it unofficially, so it's really an honor to be here."
"Thanks, but I think we both wish our introduction was under different circumstance, eh? Let's get to the point, then. You're with recon, so we've got to get you back to England as soon as possible. Too much going on for them to be down even one man, let alone an entire crew. Lucky for you, there's a sub rendezvousing in the next day, London just confirmed. They want you back pronto, Captain. What do you call yourself, anyway?"
"Jimmy. Jimmy Kirk."
"Where you from, Jimmy? You don't look old enough to be driving a bike, let alone flying what you did."
Hogan sighed to himself. The crews *were* getting younger by the day, it seemed, and the mortality rate seemed to be climbing in proportion to the lowering age. That made him all the more determined to save every single one that he could. When would this war be over, he thought. Maybe helping this man complete his mission could make a difference.
"Iowa, sir. And yeah, I volunteered just out of high school, guess all the practice I got on my uncle's crop duster really helped get me through the program fast. Soon as they knew I could fly, it was officer school for me and I've been in planes since then, working my way up to first chair. Though I'm no kid, sir. I'm 22."
"Trust me, Jimmy, that's still a kid. Let's get you out of here and back to work so you can help this godforsaken war end. Then you can go back to the farm in Iowa, right?" Hogan gave the young man a companionable punch on the arm.
"Yes sir. But once this mess is done, I want to keep flying. I guess it's kind of in my blood, you know? Lindbergh made a stop at the State Fair way back when I really *was* a kid and I guess I got hooked. I get the feeling the name Kirk is going to be known in the skies for a long time to come."
"Then let's start that journey," Hogan replied. "LeBeau there will get you suited up and Newkirk has the right documents for you. Better get a move on it, your contact will be at the meeting point soon and you have a long way to go to the coast."
"Aye, sir. And thanks."
Captain Kirk gave Hogan a smart salute, then waved as he made his way into the tunnel.
It's not quite the James Kirk WE know from the movie, but his ancestor. And who's to say there wasn't a Captain James Kirk in WW2?