Jim mirrors the salute with his own glass. "You have to ask for it," he reminds Trip. "It's the under the counter stuff you want." A few ensigns in modern Starfleet are sitting a few tables away, and Jim looks round to notice them staring at the two of them. One flushes a little and pokes the other to look away, and Jim rolls his eyes slightly. Cambridge had been right, about being able to enjoy a drink in peace. But there's only so much time he can spend staring at his borrowed bulkheads.

He realizes, suddenly, that it's probably not just him they're giggling about. How must it look, James T. Kirk and Commander Trip Tucker sitting together?

"Another word of advice," he says. "Don't let it unbalance you. The fact that, well, you're going to be recognized. You and me? We're in a fishbowl."