The Preserver - Part III
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Consciousness. Awareness. Body functions-normal.
Spock sat up, taking in his surroundings. He was in a curiously empty and silent sickbay. There were no monitors or machines hooked up to his body, which suggested that he had most likely been in a healing trance and had improbably woken by himself. He was also quite naked, which was baffling as there was no curtain drawn around him and he was in full view of anyone passing through. He looked at his lower torso where there should have been a healing arrow wound. The skin was completely repaired, no scar in sight, no sensitive areas where skin would have to be regenerated. He swiftly left the biobed and went to the replicator near the back of the ward. He keyed in a command and a new uniform was produced shortly after. As he dressed, his mind busied itself with more questions than just why sickbay was empty.
His last memory had been of dying, or at least losing consciousness, as the case may be. Perhaps the Enterprise had arrived immediately after Spock had succumbed to his injuries and Doctor McCoy was able to heal him. This would not be the first occurrence of seemingly miraculous timing from the doctor, the captain, or any number of the Enterprise crew.
Spock left sickbay, further perplexed when there were no crewmembers in the corridors either. When he tried to use a computer terminal, the screen remained in its default state and would not allow him access. Logically, he continued on to the bridge, as in any situation, emergency or otherwise, the bridge was the prime location for occupants. Spock felt an immediate sense of relief when the turbolift doors opened to the sight of the captain slumped in his chair. Jim had had not heard Spock’s arrival, and his face conveyed abject misery.
“Captain,” Spock said. Jim’s head snapped in his direction, eyes suddenly filled with fear. Concerned, Spock halted his advance, clasping his hands behind his back. This would also not be the first time that either of them were infected or else had an addled mind.
“What new fucking trick is this?” Jim nearly yelled, glaring at the view screen. Spock looked in that direction and noted that there was nothing but a leeching darkness beyond.
“To whom are you speaking?” Spock asked more gently, risking a step forward. Some of the blind panic had left Jim’s eyes, but his face was hard and unyielding.
“Don’t come any closer. What the hell are you?”
The question set off a spark of worry in Spock, and he attempted to show some of that on his face, to reassure Jim. Jim rose from his chair unsteadily, his fear warring with a reluctant hope, as if he had been alone for a long period and was wary of help.
“I am your first officer and science officer. I am also your friend. I can surmise that the ship is in danger, and I wish to change that status. Let me help.”
Jim’s eyes softened fractionally, though his expression did not alter.
“Spock, you’re not real. You died 27 days ago,” Jim said quietly, resignedly.
Spock raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. “I was deceased for almost an entire month?”
“Now who’s the imprecise one with numbers,” Jim said, rolling his eyes. “Yes. Extremely dead. Trust me.”
“Of course,” Spock replied. Jim finally moved closer to Spock, face still radiating confusion but growing more hopeful.
“This isn’t possible, you understand,” Jim said.
“I am fully aware of the impossibilities of resurrection. Modern Vulcans tend to disregard the ancient beliefs of gods or religious figures who claim otherwise. A most illogical idea unless a certain set of coincidences and scientific anomalies were to occur-”
Jim held up a hand, stopping Spock’s speech.
“Just stop, okay? Let me-“
Jim moved right in front of Spock, raising a hand to his shoulder. Spock released his arms from behind his back, relaxing to indicate permission for Jim to do as he wished. Jim put a hand firmly on Spock’s shoulder, his fingers digging in slightly, before trailing over to rest on Spock’s cheek.
“Warm, so warm,” Jim murmured, eyes lighting up as if he had been given a gift beyond measure.
“Vulcan body temperature-“
“Spock. There are better things you can say right now that aren’t a lecture on Vulcan biology.”
“Such as?”
“Say my name. Just my name.”
Understanding and empathy went through Spock. Jim had believed Spock to be truly deceased for 27 days. He wanted assurance, wanted to hear a voice he thought he never would again. Spock drew this extrapolation from the aftermath of his mother’s death, how he himself would feel if she appeared right now. His voice was soft when he answered.
“Jim. Your name is Jim.”
Spock was caught off guard when Jim wrapped his arms around Spock, fiercely hugging him close. It was most pleasant. Jim was breathing harshly through his nose, face buried in Spock’s neck. He awkwardly held Jim, clutching Jim’s shoulder blades tightly.
“I missed you so damn much-I grieved for you, you fucker,” Jim said, voice rough and fierce. “Don’t you ever take another arrow for me. I won’t watch you die again.”
“I cannot promise that. Keeping you alive is logical, and I only regret that my actions caused you pain.”
“How utterly touching this moment is,” a woman’s voice said. Jim released Spock and turned to look across the bridge, where Spock saw the impossible vista of a woman who who appeared half dead and half alive, towering over them, the top of her head brushing the ceiling.
Jim stiffened but did not move toward her. They were close enough that Spock could feel the faint play of emotions coursing through his captain-a fascinating mix, enamored and repulsed by the creature, and also filled with a paralyzing fear.
“Where’s my crew?” Jim demanded.
“Out there, I imagine. Interesting that your mind chose your ship as your first home. Troubled childhood, I imagine. How about you, Vulcan? I wonder if you would conjure your planet.”
“Stay away from him,” Jim spat, shielding Spock with his body, which was endearing yet pointless, as the life form was clearly of a superior strength.
“Why? I am the one who strung him back together.”
“You’re the one who did this?” Jim asked, incredulous.
“You certainly didn’t keep him alive or anything.”
Jim blanched, and Spock touched his bare wrist, sensing more of his conflicting emotions, the strongest of which was guilt.
“Although,” she said in consideration, “I was just about to kill you when your Spock made his presence known in your little head, so I suppose you were good for something, even if you were only the luggage for a soul.” Her smile was vicious and betrayed her serene tone. “I had no idea that a Vulcan/Human hybrid could transfer their soul to another, considering the limited nature of your universe. That makes you more interesting than I could ever imagine. The body was already there, though it took quite a bit of work for me to get it working again. The contortions it made as I revived it were delicious. Embalming is quite interesting. Your body just hated being alive with its blood replaced by chemicals and the sheer amount of decay through the internal and external organs. The screams, oh the lovely screams, choked out from rotted vocal cords. I almost woke you, Human, just so you could share the delight, but I wanted to see how long it would take you to believe he was alive rather than give the surprise away. Such pointless emotion you beings throw around, with your short lives and limited minds.”
“Your display of power has been noted,” Spock said tersely. “We are fully aware that you mean us harm and that you have the willingness and opportunity to exercise this power. What I am not aware of is motive. Why have you gone to such lengths to acquire and intimidate us?”
The being moved close and Spock was alarmed at the physiological changes this caused in Jim. He was sweating profusely, not moving one centimeter, even to recoil from the creature. He was also distressingly silent, his usual inspired method of talking until an opponent reacted currently absent from his repertoire of diversion tactics. The being narrowed its one living eye, and squeezed her repugnant hand until the skin parted and black blood seeped down her fist.
She pushed Jim aside, ignoring his futile effort to kick out and keep her from Spock. It was a commendable effort, given his currently powerless state, and disturbing for that it was conducted in silence.
Spock’s attention was ripped from Jim and back to the creature when she placed dead fingers against his face.
Pain ripped through his shields, robbing him of thought. He let out a short cry, overwhelmed by the agony. She clenched her fingers tighter into his skin, sending more pain through him. Spock buckled under it, driven to his knees. Jim was shouting for him, and Spock latched onto the sound.
He was Vulcan. Pain can be controlled.
Spock used all of his mental abilities to block his nerve receptors and restore equilibrium in his body’s physiology. The torment receded and all that was left was the unpleasant appendage holding his face. He could not sense the creature’s thoughts, possibly because she could block his thoughts or because it was dead flesh touching Spock. The creature as well as Jim stared at Spock in shock as she swiftly removed her hand and Spock rose from his kneel. She recuperated almost instantly, face evening out and returning to its former caprice, moving from Spock to the command chair, touching the back of it and letting it swivel gently.
“I first saw the both of you in the Guardian of Forever.”
“What’s that?” Jim asked from the floor, either acclimating to the creature’s influence or no longer trapped within it.
“Well, I saw one of the many versions of you. You were traveling between worlds. I have never bothered with your particular universe before, but I have never had a Vulcan or a Human in my collection, let alone a half-Vulcan, half-Human. But I lost interest, as it was rather boring in the grand scheme of things. Then, after years had passed for your counterpart, Spock, he created another portal as well as another universe, becoming endlessly unique and worthwhile. When I learned that he was bonded to that same Human that I sensed before, which just made it impossible to resist the effort,” she said, grinning cruelly.
Spock’s mind worked furiously as she considered her words. Did she mean bonded as in a marriage bond? Perhaps she was merely referring to the fact that they were close, but the implication was there.
Fascinating.
“It was beyond temptation. Acquiring you two was just an added bonus. Now, I think it’s time to get acquainted with your counterparts. Tane!”
A fantastical creature with blue, scaled skin and bright yellow wings appeared instantly. It stood several feet behind the woman, grim and resentful.
“The waifs will take them to their prison. I wish to speak with the Harpactor now. Insectoid* languages are rather crude.”
Tane said nothing, merely blinked out of existence again, along with the monstrous woman.
“Spock!” Jim shouted, and Spock was suddenly grabbed from behind by something extremely cold, with sharp nails scoring the skin beneath his tunic. Shadows emerged from the empty view screen, able to physically touch Jim and himself while their efforts to fight the creatures were for naught. They were dragged forward, feet skidding over the navigation console and to the view screen. Somehow they were pulled out, into the blackness of space-astonishingly, they were able to breathe and their temperature remained constant. They rushed along, no air on their skin, just a relentless pull toward a glowing mass of spheres, stretched out as far as Spock could see and beyond. They were beautiful, and as he moved closer, each dome teeming with its own unique details.
“It’s like a million snow globes,” Jim said softly. Spock would have liked to ask for clarification, but the pressure of flight robbed Spock of breath as the gained speed and momentum.
They were pulled into the thick outer shell of a dome, the sensation akin to plunging oneself in a vat of gelatin and exiting with no material traces. They were unceremoniously dropped to the hard ground. The ‘waifs’ were soon gone, leaving Jim and Spock alone.
“Ahoy there!” A jaunty, almost-familiar voice called. Spock looked toward the sound. Seated on the gray rock below their feet was Spock’s future self and another, older man, who was waving enthusiastically at them. They were seated on soft, lumpy chairs, a three-dimensional chess set between them, mid-game.
“Welcome Jim, Spock,” the elder Spock greeted genially, mouth curved.
Spock glanced at Jim, who shrugged, and then proceeded forward. As they came within five meters of the pair, Spock realized that the other man had to be Jim Kirk, though he had supposedly died many years ago in his own universe. This older version of James T. Kirk differed greatly in physical appearance to his own captain, so much so that Spock did not regret his immediate lack of recognition.
“We were just celebrating conjuring our first amenities,” Kirk said, beckoning Spock and Jim closer. “Unfortunately, we failed utterly at a table and a more dignified seating arrangement, but hopefully you’ll forgive us. I, at least, am wearing something other than that boring old admiral’s uniform.”
“Plaid suits you, Admiral,” the elder Spock said, earning himself a wide smile from Kirk.
“If I hadn’t been going through the worst emotional rollercoaster of my life for the past month,” Jim said slowly from beside Spock, “I’d probably think I was hallucinating my future self and my future first officer sitting on bean bag chairs and playing chess inside a gigantic bubble when there’s an evil monster bent on torturing all of us for eternity. As it is, I’m half-convinced that putrid bitch killed me and I’m in some kind of trippy afterlife.”
The elder Kirk glanced at the elder Spock, both eyebrows raised.
“We are very similar,” the elder Kirk said, assessing Jim. “Although we certainly look different. Bones harass you about ‘fluctuating weight’ all the time, too?”
Jim’s eyes rounded, taking in the scope of the man. Spock kept a perfectly straight face.
“I thought he was being paranoid.”
“Genetics, Jim,” the elder Spock said, eyes lit up in amusement. “I find that physical appearance and the appreciation of it is entirely subjective.”
“So you admit, Mr. Spock,” the elder Kirk said, jabbing his finger in his companion’s direction. “That you are, in fact, a chubby chaser.”
“Certainly not,” the elder Spock said. “When you have ‘caught’ something before the onset of weight gain, the appellation is an insufficient fit.”
“Are you guys flirting?” Jim asked in a high voice, eyes darting between the two. Spock managed to hold back a wince, feeling indescribably uncomfortable, for he had guessed this answer almost immediately upon arrival.
“Of course. After all, he is my husband,” the elder Kirk said warmly, reaching out to his bondmate with two fingers extended. The elder Spock touched the elder Kirk’s fingers with two of his own. Spock glanced at his captain, who stopped staring at the pair to look Spock in the eye. The captain seemed upset by the news, and Spock felt unaccountably discomfited by the regard.
“Do not be put off, Captain,” Spock said, offering assurance that felt leaden. “They are not us.”
The reassurance did not have the soothing effect Spock was seeking. Instead, Jim seemed irritable now, sitting down cross-legged in front of their counterparts, doing a credible job at showing no emotion.
“This doesn’t matter. I want to know what you know. Everything.”
*
It took over three hours to exhaust the inquiries of their young counterparts, and Kirk suspected the barrage of rapid fire questions and requests for clarification would resume once they’d finished processing. For now, they were silent. Spock was reclined on both bean bag chairs, and Kirk’s heart panged at the sight. It was the first time he saw Spock as the old man he undoubtedly was. Of course Kirk felt just as much-if not more-love for Spock than when they had last seen each other. But the reality of their strange situation was just now dawning on him.
Kirk may very well outlive Spock this time.
Spock’s hearing was less sharp, his strength reduced, and his energy sapped in half the time it once took. It was a strange reversal, but Kirk consoled himself in the fact that if they made it out of here and were to age naturally again, he would match Spock’s current state in a decade or two and they would finally be aging at a fair pace. He would fight for that chance.
Jim-his younger counterpart, that is- kept stealing small, longing glances at his Spock, and Kirk sympathized with his plight. Oh to be young and in love with no idea if your affections could ever be returned! Even Kirk couldn’t say with certainty that the younger Spock returned his captain’s feelings. Kirk had grown so used to his Spock and his willingness to be open about his emotions over the years that he’d almost forgotten how reserved and tight-lipped Spock had once been. He did, however, see signs that this Spock may actually be more laid-back than his own Spock had been at that age. There was little wonder in this realization of Kirk’s, given this young man’s uniquely traumatic history. He was willing to bet that the younger Spock would be more malleable than his Spock had been this early on.
Having nothing better to do, and being a man of action rather than one of reflection, Kirk stood and walked over to where his younger self was brooding. He folded his hands behind his back, as if he were still on the bridge of his ship, conferring with a young ensign. Some habits were impossible to break.
“You know,” he began conversationally. “My Spock over there died once. He saved the entire ship from a madman named Khan.”
“A Klingon?” Jim asked, and Kirk felt a rush of relief. Perhaps that universe would not share that same particular horror he had faced.
“A man. We’d been married for years when it happened. I was devastated. I imagine you might have had just as bad a time of it.”
“Look, if you’re asking if we’re dating or romantically involved, that’s a definite ‘no.’”
“But you want to be,” Kirk shrewdly pointed out.
“Contrary to your belief, I’m not a clone of you. I didn’t even grow up like you,” Jim said, voice rising and turning surly. “You had a father. Starfleet loved you-everyone loved you.”
“So that’s it,” Kirk said, affecting an air of one enlightened by sudden wisdom. “Supposedly everyone loved me, and you were deprived of love as a child. Therefore because my Spock wanted me, you think that your Spock won’t want you in turn?”
Jim moved forward like a predator, stopping just before striking his prey. The movement startled Kirk and he squeezed his hands tightly behind his back in anticipation of a fight. Kirk was transfixed by eyes that were cold blue, genetically altered to appear different than their father’s. That one small change told Kirk all he needed to know about this boy’s past.
“Just mind your business, old man. Not everything is about you and your fucking space husband and all the awesome adventures you two had.”
“Jealousy is certainly not an attractive emotion on us,” Kirk mused.
Jim stomped away, and Kirk couldn’t tell if he’d won or lost that round, or even if they had begun a standoff. Kirk walked over to where Spock lay, sitting by his head cross-legged.
“Wise men store up knowledge, but the mouth of a fool invites ruin.”
Kirk cut his eyes over to Spock, feigning insult. “Are you calling me a blithering fool?”
“We are not they, and they are not us. Kaiidth, Jim. Even if they were our exact duplicates, they must find their own way.”
Kirk sighed. “Your logic, Mr. Spock, is inescapable. And annoying, as always.”
“Gentlemen,” the younger Spock cut in, hovering over the pair of them with stony disapproval. If Kirk had to make bets on what put the young man in such a bad mood, he’d bet on the fact that Jim was radiating dark thoughts over their previous conversation and Spock was being protective of his captain. It was probably not a good idea to smile under that slightly murderous glare, but Kirk couldn’t help but be delighted at his small bout of meddling bringing such lovely results.
“Yes, Mr. Spock?” Kirk asked, sharing a deadpan look with his own Spock.
“Despite our lengthy discussion over our various fates and how we arrived at this particular juncture, we have not yet begun formulating a plan of escape.”
Jim huffily gravitated toward the three of them, no doubt lured there like a mouse to a piper’s song at the dual possibility of action and ditching their elders.
“How can we get past the bitch? What do we know?”
“Very little,” Spock said, lifting himself slowly from his supine position, sitting unnecessarily apart from Kirk. Kirk let him, deciding that there would be future opportunities to make the boys blush. “She has not attempted to intrude into our thoughts, yet she clearly was able to perform some variant of the fal-tor-pan and return Spock’s katra to his regenerated body. She sends the creature Tane to transport and prepare her victims upon arrival. Thus far, the admiral and I have not seen her while the both of you have directly interacted with her. We are in a parallel dimension that claims to work via magic, but there is neither proof that this is fact nor proof to confirm or deny this as fact.”
“Much like the Shore Leave Planet,” Kirk said to Spock, remembering. “Could the technology here be so advanced-“
“You are still enamored with that theory,” Tane said, appearing behind Jim. The young man whipped around, reaching for a phaser that was absent from his belt.
“What the hell do you want? What happened to my crew?” Jim demanded, transferring his dark mood to their winged companion.
“They are alive, at the moment,” Tane said in perfect disinterest. “To be honest, I think she forgot about them, having got her prize. Or she is keeping them out of curiosity. I don’t believe she has seen anything like your starship this close. As for the reason for my presence, I was sent to expedite your education process. Normally she would be satisfied simply letting you learn at your own pace, but she seems anxious to play with all of you. Why an immortal being does not possess more patience is a mystery of the ages.”
“What I want to know,” Jim said, stepping closer to the immovable Tane. “Is what this bitch is planning on doing with them and with us. I’m not going to start performing parlor tricks just so she can get wet over it.”
“Perhaps you can ask her yourself,” Tane blandly replied. “She hasn’t told me or any other living creature, but apparently you are somehow entitled?”
Jim seethed, and Kirk found Tane’s remote stance in the face of it eerie. Tane was calm and matter-of-fact about their eternal imprisonment, and if there was one thing Kirk disliked, it was anyone being resigned to anything. The mind atrophies if not in use.
The younger Spock rested a gentle hand on Jim’s shoulder.
“Captain, it would perhaps be unwise to anger our captor.”
“Why? I don’t think she’s omnipotent. If she was, she could have just plucked us from our universe or immediately sent us here. No, she has motives; she has patterns and rituals she has to go through. She can’t create life, couldn’t have resurrected you or my older self here if there weren’t technicalities like your soul in my head or Kirk’s echo or whatever floating around that Nexus place.”
“Much like The Wizard of Oz,” Kirk said in a ruminating tone. “The wizard is behind the curtain. His power is an illusion.”
“I assure you, it is not an illusion,” Tane said, sounding bored, as if he had heard the same arguments from thousands of beings not unlike themselves. It was likely that he had done just that.
“In any case, we are willing to learn if it at least affords us some measure of recreation,” Kirk said, slipping easily into the role of peacemaker. Tane claimed to be a prisoner, but that didn’t mean he was telling the truth or that there wasn’t some extreme form of Stockholm syndrome at work within him.
“The power behind this universe lies in the soul. Everything that lives has a soul, and each soul can create its own reality.”
“Souls?” Jim repeated in disbelief. “Look, obviously I believe in souls after having one in my head for a month, but how can a soul possibly create energy and matter? Even if they miraculously could produce both, then why hasn’t everyone banded together and staged a riot?”
“The laws in your universe require nothing of the soul to function, which is why there are those who simply do not believe in them. As the power of one’s lifeforce is the natural law here, a soul is a given fact, much like gravity is a fact in your universe,” Tane said pointedly to each Spock. “In the dimension I hail from, reality could not be created, merely modified. In this dimension, matter and energy can be created at the whim of the individual. The Manipulator is unique in that She can create from another’s soul. She was able to call forth images of a home from each Jim Kirk to serve as a holding cell. No one I have encountered has possessed the same ability to readily steal from another’s soul and use what is there, which is how she is able to keep so many contained in her private collection. The limit of any individual’s power is what is in their soul. Eventually, you can learn to create whatever you can imagine, but for now you can only create things that you have seen in the past, in your memory. The chairs and the chess set have emotional importance, for they readily came to one or both of your minds.”
Kirk realized that the chairs were, in fact, the same ones in his and Gary’s dorm room at the academy. The chess set could have emanated from either himself or Spock. They had been talking about the first time they played chess together and Kirk beat Spock-a feat few had been capable of performing-when it appeared.
“Now that you know where ‘magic’ comes from, it should be relatively easy to build upon it and create matter. We will start with the one with the strongest essence,” Tane said, then turned to his Spock, who raised a silvery eyebrow.
“May I ask how you drew such a conclusion?” Spock asked.
“You are the eldest and have more memories and experiences. You have also suffered greatly and loved greatly in your long years. All these things make your soul bountiful and powerful. For your first test, think of something from your childhood that gave you comfort, a toy perhaps.”
“A toy?” Spock said in mild surprise, which would have been flummoxed spluttering on a human. “Vulcans do not readily engage in make-believe.”
“It was a suggestion. The mind is what orders a soul, the emotions are how it expresses itself. You must go beyond these and use only the raw power which is leashed inside.”
“I am unsure how to accomplish this,” Spock said, staring dubiously at the space around him. Kirk agreed wholeheartedly with the statement.
“Focus on this one object, this one thing, and exist in that moment in time. Let the memory surround you; remember what you physically felt with all five senses, what you felt in your heart, why it stayed there for so long when all else faded. Let the strength of the memory fill you, and it will be done.”
Appearing highly doubtful of this whole enterprise, Spock closed his eyes. Tane motioned them back, and they withdrew to give Spock room in case anything happened. An expression of peace crossed Spock’s face and Kirk knew that Spock had thought of something and was making the attempt. Seconds later, Spock reached his weathered hand into the air in front of him and there appeared an older Vulcan sehlat that stood up to Spock’s chest.
“I-Chaya,” the younger Spock whispered. He walked forward like he was pulled there by a tractor beam and buried a hand in the animal’s soft brown fur. His Spock opened his eyes and stared down at his long-lost pet. Then he too petted the animal, fondness filling his face.
Kirk stared wonderingly as the animal disappeared, Spock clearly not able to keep up the apparition for long.
“You’re a wizard, Mr. Spock,” Kirk congratulated.
*
They underwent Tane’s instruction, somewhat grudgingly on his part, for Spock did not clearly understand the workings of this universe. Time had no meaning. Though Spock felt days pass, there was no discernable way to mark the passage of time or determine if time as they knew it existed. Spock, the captain, and their older counterparts required no food or sleep, for they experienced neither hunger nor fatigue, only psychosomatically taking repast and rest.
This fact alone convinced Spock that this universe operated under different laws more than any other evidence could.
Their prime concern was privacy. The memories that seemed to gain results were memories that were often quite personal, and they were not yet adept enough to block anyone else from seeing these private moments. The other Spock and Kirk were more advanced, able to recreate pieces of rooms and locations with ease. They also, Spock noted, would have fewer memories that they had not lived together or shared through a bond over several years.
Spock himself was faring poorly in these exercises, simply because he was blocking all personal memories and found little use in pleasing their captor. Jim routinely created items or scenery before immediately making it disappear again. Spock suspected that the captain was suppressing just as much as Spock was, but was incapable of blocking everything before letting it manifest. The last conjuring from Jim was of his disciplinary hearing. Most of the cadets were missing and all were blurry except for Spock, rising from his seat and primly tucking down his uniform shirt. Jim had flushed and hastily removed the memory from view, but an imprint of it was seared into Spock’s mind, reminding him of the roads they had traveled since that first meeting.
Spock spent a good deal of time after that meditating, exerting enough power to materialize his meditation mat and robe. At one point Jim had moved to Spock’s side, but instead of interrupting Spock or fidgeting while impatiently waiting for Spock to finish, Jim was still. The incongruity of this behavior was more distracting than the fidgeting would have been. Spock eventually gave up meditating and opened his eyes.
At first he thought Jim had moved, but when he looked around and then up, Spock saw that Jim was roughly two meters from the ground, levitating. His eyes were closed and he appeared quite peaceful.
“Jim,” Spock said quietly. Jim opened his eyes, looked down toward where Spock’s voice had come from, and promptly fell to the ground.
“Shit that hurt. Did you see that? I think my ass is broken. I was floating, Spock!”
Spock took the bewildering statements in stride, amusement flooding through him as a result of Jim’s openly delighted grin. “I assume you were not actively attempting to do so.”
“I was just thinking of the first time I flew in a shuttle as a kid and they turned off the artificial gravity. Apparently we can fly if we want to.”
“An interesting capability. Perhaps you would wish to do so now, or at least lay on your stomach.”
“That was a joke, wasn’t it?”
“Vulcans do not joke, Captain. The health of the captain’s posterior is of marginal importance.”
“Making fun of my poor broke ass-I I could have you written up for insubordination.”
“By all means, Captain. I am sure ‘ridiculed my broken ass’ will make a respectable entry in the ship’s log.”
Jim laughed loudly, and Spock enjoyed the sound of it after days of not hearing it. Or was that weeks now? Jim quieted after a moment, the smile almost gone from his face as if he had somehow heard Spock’s thought.
“I missed this,” Jim said seriously, eyes searching Spock’s own. “You don’t-I knew for certain that I would never talk with you again. I’d never faced death before that, not really.” Jim drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms to them, appearing much like a small child, staring forward past the dome and into the black abyss. “My dad dying, I was barely a minute old. I’ve seen men and women die in duty, many of my friends from the academy died in the Battle of Vulcan, but no one close to me had ever died. I can count the number of people whose death would break me on one hand, and I don’t even need all my fingers. When you died…Bones said I might not pull myself out of harm’s way. He was right. I know that he’d do it himself, pull me back if I was dangling over the mouth of hell itself. I know that, and I love him for it. But he can’t always be there, and he’s just as humanly vulnerable as I am. I guess you were invincible in my mind. You always managed to survive whatever anyone or anything dished out, but more than that, you were the missing piece in the puzzle of my fucked up life.
“It’s like, you know what my life was before Starfleet. Pike was a piece, making me want to try for something better. Bones was a piece, he was the first to instantly want to be my friend and stick around even if no one else saw a reason why. You, you were earned, you were the last piece that I wasn’t looking for because it’s been lost so long that you just figure it’s in an old couch cushion you threw out and forget about. You didn’t like me, but somehow I changed your mind, and you just fit perfectly. And I thought, if I can pull that off, save Earth and gain you as a friend, then what the hell can’t I do? Pure ignorance. I knew nothing. You died, and I felt like throwing out the whole damn puzzle.”
“Jim,” Spock said softly, equal parts touched and broken by the words Jim spoke.
“I still don’t believe it, you know?” Jim continued in a brittle voice. “I mean, how can I? Maybe you’re not really next to me; maybe you’re just part of the magic in this place. Maybe I wanted you to be alive again so badly that I created you, and you stay because I can’t make myself let go.”
Caught in some great emotion, Jim rested his head on his knees and arms, his eyes closed tightly. Spock gazed at his friend, overwhelmed with Jim’s continued grief. He found himself wanting to alleviate some of that doubt, soften the tired lines of his captain’s brow and coax another smile. Uncertain, Spock did something he had only done with his mother; he reached over to lay his hand atop Jim’s hand. It was an intimate gesture, perhaps akin to the human custom of kissing the forehead. Jim’s eyes flew open at the touch.
“My logic is not applicable in this dimension; therefore, I cannot use it alone to convince you that I am ‘real.’ You forget that I, too, have no proof that you are indeed my captain. You could be as much an illusion to me as I supposedly am to you. Yet in this instance, I choose to believe in what I feel is right.”
Some part of what Spock imparted made Jim appear more at ease, a curious little smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. A throat cleared from above them. Jim yanked his hand from underneath Spock’s, and Spock suppressed an almost human groan of exasperation.
“I’d give you boys a little more time to yourselves, but Tane insists that you at least pretend to listen to him for a while,” Kirk said, ever brash and infuriating. He constantly unsettled Spock with his capricious mannerisms and blunt observations. Furthermore, every time the man spoke to Jim alone, Jim would sink back into his darker mood. His own counterpart at least had the decency to adopt an indifferent mask around him and at least somewhat suppressed the vicious flaunting of their bond that the elder Kirk excelled in.
“I’m not really keen on listening to the guy,” Jim said, scowling. “It’s all pretty useless if you ask me.”
“Knowledge is never useless, Jim,” elder Spock said, and Spock had to reluctantly agree with the sentiment.
“There’s no rush,” Tane said, visibly startling Jim with his customary sudden appearance.
“Would you stop that?” Jim demanded, leaping to his feet, Spock calmly rising with him. Jim shook his head irritably, eyes focused on Tane’s feet. A moment later two small silver bells adorned the tops of Tane’s clawed feet. Tane curiously extended a foot in bemusement, the bells jingling.
“What are these?” Tane asked.
“Bells. Now you can’t sneak up on me.”
Tane blinked, his pupil enlarging so that the orange hue of the iris thinned. His skin also turned a lighter shade of blue, and his mouth curved upward. It was the first conspicuous emotion Tane had expressed since they had all met and Spock was barely surprised that it had been Jim who coaxed it from him.
“Humans are a strange race. You are not particularly impressive to look at and there are billions more just like you. I assumed she merely brought both you humans as a means to mentally torture the true prizes, but perhaps I was mistaken.”
“I cannot speak for most humans,” the elder Spock said, glancing at Kirk. “But I know that the minds of the admiral and the captain are exceedingly dynamic.”
The statement piqued Spock’s interest. He felt a compulsion to meld with Jim, a reaction that surprised him, given that he had never melded with anyone in a private context. The only other person he had ever wanted to share minds with was Nyota, though they had never actually melded.
Before Spock could contemplate the revelation any further, a wind swept through their shared dome. Everyone looked around and above, and they beheld a gathering of dark storm clouds above them, thunder ominously sounding from the gathering storm.
“I don’t like the looks of this,” Kirk said, neck craned upward to look at a storm that was emitting its first few drops of precipitation. “It wasn’t a very fun experience the last time it rained.”
Tane, for a moment, appeared fearful of the change, and that more than Kirk’s grim premonition set Spock on edge. “I must leave you now.”
“What’s going on?” Jim demanded, but Tane was already gone. More clouds filled the air, turning black and blanketing the ground with rain and shadow. He heard Jim gasp as a funnel-shaped cloud began to form over them. Operating on instinct, all four of them began to run, but the funnel cloud never moved further from them, no matter how quickly they fled. Indeed, it was as if the wind tunnel had sentience and could anticipate their movements. Spock was the fastest runner, sprinting ahead of the group as the funnel cloud grew taller, reaching toward the ground. A strong wind separated Spock from the others, landing him on his back on the hard ground while the other three were blown away from him, just outside where the tornado would touch land.
Spock stared up into the harsh wind, eyes watering. He was swiftly engulfed, but he was not pulled up into it as it settled around him. He was able to regain his footing, wind whipping his clothes and hair too gently to be natural. The tunnel parted slightly, unnaturally, admitting a single person.
“Mother.”
She looked exactly the same as she had the day Vulcan was destroyed. For a moment Spock wondered if she was somehow truly alive. After all, the Preserver had resurrected himself and the elder Kirk, both of whom had been equally deceased.
Spock could not help walking closer, close enough to touch.
“You shame me,” she spat, stopping Spock’s blind reach toward her. His mother had never spoken to him with such loathing. It could not be her, yet Spock could not yet convince himself of that fact. “All your life you wanted to be Vulcan, so you shut me out, as if by denying me you could deny your human half.”
“Mother,” Spock whispered. “I never wished to deny you. I chose Starfleet because it was Vulcan that was ashamed of you, not Earth.”
“You were ashamed of me. You chose Starfleet to prove to all Vulcans that you could live among humans and still be a perfect Vulcan.”
“That was not the motivation behind my initial decision. That was how I explained it to Sarek when he demanded to know my reasons behind my decision to join Starfleet.”
“You never once said that you loved me.”
Spock blanched, guilt crawling through his veins like a slow-acting poison. She had named his greatest regret. “I know. I’m sorry, Mother. I was ashamed.”
“Of course you were. You’re a hypocrite. You work with humans daily, even brought yourself to date one romantically and openly declare another a friend, yet do they know how much you despise what they are?”
“I do not despise them,” Spock said, his control weakening. “They are as dear to me as you were.”
She let out a sharp bark of mocking laughter. “So you admit that you look down to them? We’re like animals to you. A dumb, sub-Vulcan race tainted by base emotions and feelings. When you stepped on Earth after Vulcan was destroyed, you were bitter. This planet was spared while Vulcan was destroyed. How’s that for irony, Spock? All your life you wanted nothing to do with Earth, and now it’s all you have left. Maybe Earth should have gone first. 10,000 humans would have much easier to deal with.”
“No!” Spock yelled, and as if the single word had a power to itself, Spock was now outside the funnel, Jim grabbing his shoulders.
“Are you all right?” Jim called out against the wind, worry spread over his face.
Spock could not speak. He was staring into the tunnel where the apparition of his mother had stood. He could see through it now, though he could not while he was inside of it. It was now inhabited by the elder Spock and a younger version of Admiral Kirk in a green command tunic. The elder Kirk was standing to Spock’s right, peering worriedly into the vortex. Their voices emanated from the tunnel, and he realized that everyone here had heard the entire exchange with his mother.
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