Never Did Run Smooth: Chapter Eight
Title: Never Did Run Smooth
Author: Lilbatfacedgirl
Fandom: stxi
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: Mostly PG-13/R
Warning: fic deals with rape survival and recovery. Chapter rating is for language and references to past sexual abuse
Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.
Summary: An early on set of pon farr makes Jim's timeline more pressing.
.”
Chapter 8: 2 years later
“JIM, JJJIIIMMM!!!!!!!!!”
Sputtering awake, Jim Kirk sat up straight in the command chair of the Aberdeen, his feet falling from their recline on the console. Blinking stupidly, he shifted his eyes around the bow, trying to determine why he was no longer dozing off in Scotty’s seat.
“JIIIMMMMMMM!!!! Didya hear me, laddie!!!!!”
Jumping three feet, Jim dashed forward and grabbed the barking communicator from its perch on the console.
“I’m here, Scotty. Please repeat.”
“Fire er up, laddie, we need ta leave, RIGHT NOW! And lower the gangplank!”
A million possible reasons for Scotty’s frantic instructions flashed across Jim’s mind as he dove back into the command chair and began initiating the necessary launch sequences. Pausing just long enough to lower the rear gangplank, Jim grabbed two phasers and ran towards the Aberdeen’s stern. He knew this neighborhood and he knew this crew and he wouldn’t put it past them to have some sort of lynch mob hot on their tail. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The peaceful darkness that greeted him as he starred across the tarmac was deceiving. Pu’jowl was a hellhole, a port of the worst order. In fact, the entire planet of Savar could give Dante nightmares. It was completely controlled, if control was the right word, by power-hungry warlords and their bumbling factions of sadistic thugs. Its entire economy, for lack of a better word, was built around the drug and sex trades. Jim hated it and he knew Scotty did, too, but it seemed like they had spent a great deal of their time in the past two years in and out of ports such as this. Scotty had taken Spock’s warning seriously, a great deal more seriously than Jim. They were staying far away from Earth.
But as far as Jim could tell, they had traded one dangerous entity for another. The rough and ungoverned worlds they now inhabited enraged the sensibilities of the three former Starfleet officers. They were confronted regularly by the types of situations they had once fought to prevent but now they found themselves nearly powerless in the face of such atrocities. Jim remembered distinctly the last time they had attempted to intervene. They had saved a young man from death at the hands of one of the local crime syndicate's collectors. For that fine act of chivalry, Scotty had spent six months in jail. At first Jim had planned complex escapes and had even considered attempting to contact the elder Spock for help but Scotty had reminded him that they needed to keep their heads down and save their favors for when they really needed them. Six months wasn’t that long, he claimed, but it has seemed like an eternity to the crew who had clung to that shithole planet’s general vicinity for the duration of the sentence. Jim had stepped in as acting captain, to Chekov’s profound relief, and the ship had stayed afloat financially but the nature of their environment was causing the Aberdeen to take on more and more questionable cargo. It drove them nuts. “What good was this whole staying alive and safe thing,” Jim argued, “If we lose who we are in the process.” Scotty wasn’t ready to give in and head back to Earth quite yet but he was definitely getting close.
“And who knows,” Jim mused as he stood at the top of the ship ramp, phasers armed and ready, “This just might be the last straw.” Out of the silent night, he could hear the sounds of yelling, punctuated by the cursing of one irate Scotsman. Out of the darkness emerged the crew of the Aberdeen, running hell bent across the tarmac with Scotty bringing up the rear. Jim was relieved to see no immediate pursuers and hoped this meant they might be able to make a clean break without engaging in a fire fight. Thank God they’d already unloaded.
As the crew rushed aboard, Chekov shot past Jim towards the command console. Jim hurried behind him. Scotty was already shouting orders as he cleared the gangplank, “Retract the damn ramp and let’s go.” Not needing to be told twice, Jim initiated thrusters and the Aberdeen cleared the dock, shooting off into space. Only when they’d cleared the atmosphere did Scotty allow himself to slide down into the command chair.
“Och, I dunna need this shit at my age.”
Jim’s lips quirked, “So, who accidentally slept with who’s daughter?”
“It should be that simple. No, laddie, a rather large individual by the name of Barr Jullin and his army of punks have decided ta take over the great city of Pu’jowl. Canna say that I blame them. It’s quite a catch, as far as hell infested shit heaps go. Apparently, the local ruler, whose name I canna even pronounce, wasna too keen on this idea. We decided not ta stay and see who won.”
“Oh. Well, at least we won’t have to go back there anytime soon.”
“Yes, another port where we can no longer do business. Excellent”, Scotty slumped into his chair and rubbed his forehead, “Gentlemen, we are running low on options.”
At the command console, Chekov and Jim exchanged a look. Jim sighed, “Hey, you know how I feel. This whole area is like the Wild West. I still say we head back closer to home.”
“ I zink we should consider it, too, Keptin”
Scotty shot them both a dirty look, “Yes, please, let’s trade in our blood thirsty anarchists for a bunch of blood thirsty beauracrats. Jim, wake up. Can ya not see how dangerous that is?”
“Dammit, Scotty, we just aren’t that important. Do you think they’re going to hunt down a couple of former officers till the end of time. I mean, do you really think they even care anymore?”
Scotty eyed Jim with a sad but resigned expression, “Look, let me lay it ta ya straight. I dunno think the Federation will hunt us till the end a days. Truth be said, I think they’ll give up rather quickly. But, Jim, something, has to happen first..........Jim, they’ll give up once he’s dead.”
His reaction would have been indiscernable to someone who didn’t know him well but Scotty had been Jim’s friend for seven years and he could see the way the young man’s face tightened painfully at those words. Dead. Spock. These past two years viewed as part of a countdown towards the inevitable that would be triggered by the Vulcan’s traitorous biology. Jim’s shoulders slumped marginally and his hands gripped the controls tighter as he fought for control. Twenty-four months and he still could not accept this eventuality.
“Look, son, I dunna want to upset you. But ya know it ta be true.”
“Yeah”, Jim stood, “Are we good up here.”
“Yeah, she’ll fly herself now.”
“Good.” Without another word, Jim strowed off toward his cabin. Scotty and Chekov watched him go, once again at a loss for words of comfort. There just wasn’t that much optimism in this part of the galaxy.
*****************
Jim missed swinging doors. One of the great disappointments of living in space was the lack of doors to slam for dramatic effect. Here, everything slid. And as a result, Jim Kirk, you are forced to unwittingly appear to be a grown up instead of a fourteen year old in a snit. God, sometimes he just hated his inner voice.
Jim needed to re-direct his rage. He knew his anger wasn’t really for Scotty. All the poor guy was doing was telling the truth. But he was Jim Kirk and his approach to life would always be to dive right into the fray and hope for the best. He felt positively impotent stuck way out on the very edge of Federation space. He’d much rather face the risks and meet whatever the Federation or Vulcan Council threw at them head on. It would be brash and brave but also foolish and reckless and deep down Jim respected Scotty’s position. He knew that Spock was right, knew the powers that be in Starfleet and on New Vulcan would not leave them peacefully alone and he knew that Scotty’s decision was the best one for his crew. But he didn’t have to like it.
In a brief moment of whimsy, Jim pushed out with his mind. Up, down, left, right……..still nothing. The bond was there, he was mentally aware of its presence if he concentrated on it solely. But he couldn’t feel it at all. The block that Spock had instigated worked as well as he had said it would. He had claimed that he wanted to turn Jim loose. Well, he’d certainly provided the foundation. The sense of emptiness, of incompletion that had plagued Jim in the months immediately following his departure from New Vulcan was gone. He was alone and yet felt wholly himself again. Spock was right. If he wanted, he could be free.
The problem was, he didn’t want it, this notion of freedom, because when it came right down to it, it was illusory at best. To be completely free, one had to be completely unattached, an island unto himself. There was a time when a younger James Kirk might have thought that sounded like paradise. He knew better now. For a span of only five minutes he had experienced a near perfect love affair between two uniquely compatible individuals and he couldn’t turn his back on that. Spock had blocked their mating bond but he could nothing to stop the reciprocal call of their souls to one another. Jim grimaced. I thought he said the block would make it easy. No, that wasn’t true. Spock could not take away what already lay between them. He had blocked him only so as not to make it any worse.
For a moment, Jim almost chuckled, briefly reflecting on the impressive amount of time he had dedicated over the last four years to analyzing the potential health and stability of his marriage. Karma certainly was a vindictive bitch. He had thoroughly earned and even more thoroughly enjoyed his immoral reputation as a Starfleet cadet. His behavior had tempered considerably when he was promoted, as was required of a man in his position, but he had still managed to enjoy himself with a short but exotic string of one night stands on various stopovers and shore leaves. And just look at him now, desperate to find the means to live out a committed, monogamous and blessedly uneventful relationship with the love of his life. And that was the one relationship that had been screwed up from the very start.
Bond or no bond, he missed Spock like hell. And his heart wasn’t the only thing that was hurting. This much celibacy was probably a bad idea for a man of his previous sexual appetites but he couldn’t seem to help himself. When he had first fled New Vulcan, the presence of the bond had made the idea of sex with someone else absolutely repugnant. Now, he just wasn’t tempted to indulge in what he knew would be an inferior experience. He tried not to dwell too much on the events aboard the Enterprise. Spock had explained the circumstances and then offered up his own life in restitution. As far as Jim was concerned, the incident had finally been laid to rest when they had found their way back to their bed on New Vulcan. In fact, it was the occurrences in that bed that dominated his mind now.
At the time of their arrival on the planet, Spock had seemed determined to fuck him on a nightly basis. His intense possessiveness and Jim’s dejected misery had made for thoroughly one sided interludes. For the longest time, he had just lain there, simply unable to participate or resist. But as time passed and Spock returned more and more to himself, his attentions began to mutate. He was no longer willing to mindlessly screw a compliant body beneath him and had employed his full knowledge of the human mind and physiology to the task. Jim’s stubbornness had been no match against that kind of technique and stamina and the Vulcan had wrung orgasms from his body that had reduced him to a gasping, boneless mass of quivering nerves. Eventually, Jim’s physical surrender had been complete.
He vividly remembered that last time; the explosion of stars behind his eyes and the animalistic moan that had escaped his lips as he had lain on his side, inclined on the crimson sheets of their bed, Spock‘s hot body pressed against his back, pushed deep within him, one arm across his shoulders, the other hand still stroking him through his climax, leg wrapped around Jim’s to provide leverage as he thrust in, in. He’d still felt a reluctance to those sexual interludes that had been born of the circumstances but he could also clearly remember how his own arm had snaked out, reaching up over his shoulder to grasp Spock around the back of his neck, clutching, pulling and urging him on.
But Spock’s gradual return to his logical and rational self had brought other changes as well, most notably an active conscience. Spock had acknowledged his mental reticence and never touched Jim again after that night. A part of him had been grateful. An even bigger part of him was still yearning, desperate to experience it as a fully willing participant. There was just no substitute to be had for it, not in all the universe.
What the hell was going on with him? In the course of the past two years, his thoughts were never far from Spock but this obsession with their past sex life was new and unsettling. He had carefully avoided this for so long and now the thoughts came unbidden, almost like they’d been placed in his……
Jim bolted up. No, it couldn’t be. It was way too soon. But what other explanation was there. Spock had kept himself so carefully hidden for the last two years. The only possible reason for this sudden breach was if he had fallen into a state of mind that made it impossible to maintain those carefully constructed shield. Oh, fuck this shit. I’ve had it with being the obedient, supportive little wife. What the fuck is going on. Channeling his intense frustration, Jim once again pushed out with his mind. If he was seeing Spock’s thoughts, there must be some chink in the armor that was allowing Spock’s mind to push through. Still he felt nothing. Mentally spitting on his hands and fully embracing his never say die attitude, Jim pushed again, even further. Still nothing. Turning in frustration, he punched the bulkhead hard, his hand exploding in pain. Using the physical agony to his advantage, he harnessed the excess aggression to push out yet again. There, finally, he felt the actual wall. Running mental hands along its breadth, he finally located the small breach. He reached out towards it and was blown back by a scorching pain. A heat too intense to be born flung him back into his cabin on the Aberdeen.
Holy SHIT!! So that was what it felt like. It was suddenly easier to understand Spock’s descent into animalistic insanity. A person might do anything to quench that fire. But how had this happened? Everything Jim had ever heard indicated that it was a seven year cycle. Really, though, that was hardly the point right now. Spock was about to enter pon farr, he knew it, and that meant that his bond mate, his soulmate probably had about two weeks to live.
Dammin, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!!!! He didn’t know what to do. Spock had asked him to let him go, had asked to be allowed to reclaim his sense of honor with the sacrifice of his life. Could Jim really deny him that?
Oh hell, of course he could! This whole death as a pathway to life bullshit had just never sat well with him. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t just sit passively by while the love of his life quit out on them. Fuck it, if he wants to reclaim his honor, he sure as hell isn’t going to take the easy way out. We’ll get through this together and then he’ll live and he can sacrifice his life by vowing to spend the rest of it kissing my ass and making it up to me. Isn’t that how married couples are supposed to make up?
Secure in his own warped brand of logic, Jim sprang into action. Striding out the door of his cabin, he yelled, “Pav, Scotty, where are you? We need to talk.”
Thirty-seven hours later, the Aberdeen pulled out of warp. Scotty had tested the ship’s engines to their limits and they were now deep in Federation Space. Certainly close enough to send a message. Jim slid into the command chair while Chekov established the necessary link.
The face that appeared on the screen was perhaps a little older than when Jim had last seen it but the calm, stoic expression that the Vulcan wore hadn’t changed a bit. He found himself at a sudden loss for words as he starred at the features that so resembled the man he loved and was determined to save.
“It is gratifying to see you, Jim, Mr. Scott. Mr. Chekov, you do not know me but I most assuredly know you,” the Vulcan’s lips turned up in the slightest hint of a smile at Pavel’s confusion.
Collecting himself, Jim found his voice, “Spock! It’s good to see you, too. Listen, I’d love to play catch up but there’s no time. I need to know what’s going on with him.”
Spock’s counterpart appeared to take a moment to gather his thoughts and choose his words, “Jim, since you are initiating this contact, then I must assume that you are aware of what has occurred. It is difficult to say with measured exactitude but I estimate he has twelve days to live.”
“How, Spock? How did this happen? It’s supposed to take seven years.”
“This is true, and the cycle is usually quite precise. However, there are several things to take into account. First, he, and I for that matter, are hybrids. The human portion of our DNA can affect the onset. It did this to me several times throughout my life, usually during times of great upheaval. Remember, the pon farr is a hormonal reaction and both Vulcan and human hormones can be affected by stress levels. And he has experienced stress. Maintaining the block he placed on your bond only exacerbated the situation. His ability to meditate has been compromised for many months. In light of these outside influences, it is understandable that the situation manifested early. He and I had discussed this possibility and he had accepted it. As far as you becoming aware of the situation, that will only increase in the coming days. He will not be able to maintain the block on your bond for much longer as it requires a balanced and disciplined mind, which he is rapidly losing. I assume you have already felt or sensed some of these changes.”
Jim thought back to the sexually charged memories that had been streaming through his head. Where has your mind been going, Spock? “Yeah, I’ve definitely noticed. So, you’ve seen him then?”
“Yes, Jim, I visit him at least once a week when I am on the planet. His father is there almost daily. He is receiving as much support as we can offer and we will see him through this time.”
“So, he still wants to die?”
“Yes, he still views it as a matter of reclaiming his honor.”
“And what if I told you I thought that was pure horseshit?”
“Equine excremental references aside, I believe I understand your colorful metaphor. And I believe I would be inclined to agree with it.”
Jim sat back in his chair. He had run this conversation with the older Spock through his head several times as they traveled towards New Vulcan but the one thing he had never expected was agreement.
“So, if you agree that it’s an asinine waist of life, maybe you’ll also agree with the next part.”
“I believe you intend to, how you say, bust him out?”
Jim slapped his leg, “Yes, exactly. We’re planning a prison break from New Vulcan. So, good idea, bad idea, am I crazy? What do you think?”
Spock quirked his brow, “I have many thoughts. First, in light of your possible insanity, I would only comment that you are James Tiberius Kirk. You could never be anyone else. And because of who you are, I was fully expecting this course of action. I knew you would not simply let him die. However, you must realize two things. First, he believes he wants to die. He is committed to this course of action. After this is all over, it will fall to you to convince him that he has a path in this life. I personally have tremendous faith that you will be successful, having learned about faith myself from your counterpart. But all this must wait until after you have dealt with the more immediate issue.
Jim, by the time you arrive, he will most likely be entering the plak tow. This means he will be beyond the capacity for rational thought. His desire will be to mate and you will be his target.”
Jim starred down at his hands, carefully avoiding three sets of eyes currently trained on him, “I get that. We’ll come up with something to handle it. For now, what can you tell us about this prison?”
“I’ve done some preliminary reconnaissance of the site during my visits. It is minimally staffed and largely computer operated. I strongly suggest that Mr. Chekov employ some of his unique computer skills to this problem. I can provide you with a map to his cell and a location of all the fixed guard posts. There are several guards who roam at will but I have taken the liberty of assessing their most likely routes.” Sitting back, Spock looked moderately satisfied with himself.
The expression on the three human’s faces was identical incredulity. “Um, have you ever broken out of prison before, Mr. Spock?” Scotty quipped good-naturedly.
“Indeed I have,” the Vulcan replied with complete sincerity, “Seventeen times, to be exact. I can also relate the exact figures for the incidences in which I have broken out of prison accompanied by the three of you.” His eyes twinkled at their startled expressions, “This can be done, I assure you. In fact, I estimate probability of success to be about 93.7%. However, the odds will be deducted by a full 90% if you do not have a plan of contingency for dealing with my counterpart. He will be savage at that point. And if he becomes aware of your presence Jim, there will be nothing that can hold him. I know that you understand what I am saying.”
Jim thought for a moment, “Okay, how about knocking him out?”
“The use of a nerve pinch could be affective but someone would have to get close enough to him to administer it. I could possibly….”
“No, Spock, I want you to have plausible deniability. You and Sarek. But I think I have an idea. There has to be some kind of ventilation system in this place, right. Something that is probably controlled by the computer?”
“Yes, I have noticed such a system.”
“Okay, so if Pav gets a hold of the computer system, we could pump some kind of sedative into his cell and knock him out. Then we just have to avoid the guards, get Pav to throw the lock and drag him back to the ship. Sounds easy enough to me.”
“Yes, Jim, theoretically. But this is not a regular Vulcan. He is in pon farr. A standard sedative is not going to have any effect on him.”
“Alright, so all we really need then is someone with a basic medical understanding of Vulcan biology who can mix up a highly specific chemical compound in almost no time with limited resources and then affectively administer it with absolutely no chance for a trial run……..right.”
Spock looked almost quizzical for a moment, “That is correct.”
Jim smiled, “Well, it just so happens that I know a guy. And I think you know where I can find him
Author: Lilbatfacedgirl
Fandom: stxi
Pairing: Kirk/Spock
Rating: Mostly PG-13/R
Warning: fic deals with rape survival and recovery. Chapter rating is for language and references to past sexual abuse
Disclaimer: I don't own any of it.
Summary: An early on set of pon farr makes Jim's timeline more pressing.
.”
Chapter 8: 2 years later
“JIM, JJJIIIMMM!!!!!!!!!”
Sputtering awake, Jim Kirk sat up straight in the command chair of the Aberdeen, his feet falling from their recline on the console. Blinking stupidly, he shifted his eyes around the bow, trying to determine why he was no longer dozing off in Scotty’s seat.
“JIIIMMMMMMM!!!! Didya hear me, laddie!!!!!”
Jumping three feet, Jim dashed forward and grabbed the barking communicator from its perch on the console.
“I’m here, Scotty. Please repeat.”
“Fire er up, laddie, we need ta leave, RIGHT NOW! And lower the gangplank!”
A million possible reasons for Scotty’s frantic instructions flashed across Jim’s mind as he dove back into the command chair and began initiating the necessary launch sequences. Pausing just long enough to lower the rear gangplank, Jim grabbed two phasers and ran towards the Aberdeen’s stern. He knew this neighborhood and he knew this crew and he wouldn’t put it past them to have some sort of lynch mob hot on their tail. It wouldn’t be the first time.
The peaceful darkness that greeted him as he starred across the tarmac was deceiving. Pu’jowl was a hellhole, a port of the worst order. In fact, the entire planet of Savar could give Dante nightmares. It was completely controlled, if control was the right word, by power-hungry warlords and their bumbling factions of sadistic thugs. Its entire economy, for lack of a better word, was built around the drug and sex trades. Jim hated it and he knew Scotty did, too, but it seemed like they had spent a great deal of their time in the past two years in and out of ports such as this. Scotty had taken Spock’s warning seriously, a great deal more seriously than Jim. They were staying far away from Earth.
But as far as Jim could tell, they had traded one dangerous entity for another. The rough and ungoverned worlds they now inhabited enraged the sensibilities of the three former Starfleet officers. They were confronted regularly by the types of situations they had once fought to prevent but now they found themselves nearly powerless in the face of such atrocities. Jim remembered distinctly the last time they had attempted to intervene. They had saved a young man from death at the hands of one of the local crime syndicate's collectors. For that fine act of chivalry, Scotty had spent six months in jail. At first Jim had planned complex escapes and had even considered attempting to contact the elder Spock for help but Scotty had reminded him that they needed to keep their heads down and save their favors for when they really needed them. Six months wasn’t that long, he claimed, but it has seemed like an eternity to the crew who had clung to that shithole planet’s general vicinity for the duration of the sentence. Jim had stepped in as acting captain, to Chekov’s profound relief, and the ship had stayed afloat financially but the nature of their environment was causing the Aberdeen to take on more and more questionable cargo. It drove them nuts. “What good was this whole staying alive and safe thing,” Jim argued, “If we lose who we are in the process.” Scotty wasn’t ready to give in and head back to Earth quite yet but he was definitely getting close.
“And who knows,” Jim mused as he stood at the top of the ship ramp, phasers armed and ready, “This just might be the last straw.” Out of the silent night, he could hear the sounds of yelling, punctuated by the cursing of one irate Scotsman. Out of the darkness emerged the crew of the Aberdeen, running hell bent across the tarmac with Scotty bringing up the rear. Jim was relieved to see no immediate pursuers and hoped this meant they might be able to make a clean break without engaging in a fire fight. Thank God they’d already unloaded.
As the crew rushed aboard, Chekov shot past Jim towards the command console. Jim hurried behind him. Scotty was already shouting orders as he cleared the gangplank, “Retract the damn ramp and let’s go.” Not needing to be told twice, Jim initiated thrusters and the Aberdeen cleared the dock, shooting off into space. Only when they’d cleared the atmosphere did Scotty allow himself to slide down into the command chair.
“Och, I dunna need this shit at my age.”
Jim’s lips quirked, “So, who accidentally slept with who’s daughter?”
“It should be that simple. No, laddie, a rather large individual by the name of Barr Jullin and his army of punks have decided ta take over the great city of Pu’jowl. Canna say that I blame them. It’s quite a catch, as far as hell infested shit heaps go. Apparently, the local ruler, whose name I canna even pronounce, wasna too keen on this idea. We decided not ta stay and see who won.”
“Oh. Well, at least we won’t have to go back there anytime soon.”
“Yes, another port where we can no longer do business. Excellent”, Scotty slumped into his chair and rubbed his forehead, “Gentlemen, we are running low on options.”
At the command console, Chekov and Jim exchanged a look. Jim sighed, “Hey, you know how I feel. This whole area is like the Wild West. I still say we head back closer to home.”
“ I zink we should consider it, too, Keptin”
Scotty shot them both a dirty look, “Yes, please, let’s trade in our blood thirsty anarchists for a bunch of blood thirsty beauracrats. Jim, wake up. Can ya not see how dangerous that is?”
“Dammit, Scotty, we just aren’t that important. Do you think they’re going to hunt down a couple of former officers till the end of time. I mean, do you really think they even care anymore?”
Scotty eyed Jim with a sad but resigned expression, “Look, let me lay it ta ya straight. I dunno think the Federation will hunt us till the end a days. Truth be said, I think they’ll give up rather quickly. But, Jim, something, has to happen first..........Jim, they’ll give up once he’s dead.”
His reaction would have been indiscernable to someone who didn’t know him well but Scotty had been Jim’s friend for seven years and he could see the way the young man’s face tightened painfully at those words. Dead. Spock. These past two years viewed as part of a countdown towards the inevitable that would be triggered by the Vulcan’s traitorous biology. Jim’s shoulders slumped marginally and his hands gripped the controls tighter as he fought for control. Twenty-four months and he still could not accept this eventuality.
“Look, son, I dunna want to upset you. But ya know it ta be true.”
“Yeah”, Jim stood, “Are we good up here.”
“Yeah, she’ll fly herself now.”
“Good.” Without another word, Jim strowed off toward his cabin. Scotty and Chekov watched him go, once again at a loss for words of comfort. There just wasn’t that much optimism in this part of the galaxy.
*****************
Jim missed swinging doors. One of the great disappointments of living in space was the lack of doors to slam for dramatic effect. Here, everything slid. And as a result, Jim Kirk, you are forced to unwittingly appear to be a grown up instead of a fourteen year old in a snit. God, sometimes he just hated his inner voice.
Jim needed to re-direct his rage. He knew his anger wasn’t really for Scotty. All the poor guy was doing was telling the truth. But he was Jim Kirk and his approach to life would always be to dive right into the fray and hope for the best. He felt positively impotent stuck way out on the very edge of Federation space. He’d much rather face the risks and meet whatever the Federation or Vulcan Council threw at them head on. It would be brash and brave but also foolish and reckless and deep down Jim respected Scotty’s position. He knew that Spock was right, knew the powers that be in Starfleet and on New Vulcan would not leave them peacefully alone and he knew that Scotty’s decision was the best one for his crew. But he didn’t have to like it.
In a brief moment of whimsy, Jim pushed out with his mind. Up, down, left, right……..still nothing. The bond was there, he was mentally aware of its presence if he concentrated on it solely. But he couldn’t feel it at all. The block that Spock had instigated worked as well as he had said it would. He had claimed that he wanted to turn Jim loose. Well, he’d certainly provided the foundation. The sense of emptiness, of incompletion that had plagued Jim in the months immediately following his departure from New Vulcan was gone. He was alone and yet felt wholly himself again. Spock was right. If he wanted, he could be free.
The problem was, he didn’t want it, this notion of freedom, because when it came right down to it, it was illusory at best. To be completely free, one had to be completely unattached, an island unto himself. There was a time when a younger James Kirk might have thought that sounded like paradise. He knew better now. For a span of only five minutes he had experienced a near perfect love affair between two uniquely compatible individuals and he couldn’t turn his back on that. Spock had blocked their mating bond but he could nothing to stop the reciprocal call of their souls to one another. Jim grimaced. I thought he said the block would make it easy. No, that wasn’t true. Spock could not take away what already lay between them. He had blocked him only so as not to make it any worse.
For a moment, Jim almost chuckled, briefly reflecting on the impressive amount of time he had dedicated over the last four years to analyzing the potential health and stability of his marriage. Karma certainly was a vindictive bitch. He had thoroughly earned and even more thoroughly enjoyed his immoral reputation as a Starfleet cadet. His behavior had tempered considerably when he was promoted, as was required of a man in his position, but he had still managed to enjoy himself with a short but exotic string of one night stands on various stopovers and shore leaves. And just look at him now, desperate to find the means to live out a committed, monogamous and blessedly uneventful relationship with the love of his life. And that was the one relationship that had been screwed up from the very start.
Bond or no bond, he missed Spock like hell. And his heart wasn’t the only thing that was hurting. This much celibacy was probably a bad idea for a man of his previous sexual appetites but he couldn’t seem to help himself. When he had first fled New Vulcan, the presence of the bond had made the idea of sex with someone else absolutely repugnant. Now, he just wasn’t tempted to indulge in what he knew would be an inferior experience. He tried not to dwell too much on the events aboard the Enterprise. Spock had explained the circumstances and then offered up his own life in restitution. As far as Jim was concerned, the incident had finally been laid to rest when they had found their way back to their bed on New Vulcan. In fact, it was the occurrences in that bed that dominated his mind now.
At the time of their arrival on the planet, Spock had seemed determined to fuck him on a nightly basis. His intense possessiveness and Jim’s dejected misery had made for thoroughly one sided interludes. For the longest time, he had just lain there, simply unable to participate or resist. But as time passed and Spock returned more and more to himself, his attentions began to mutate. He was no longer willing to mindlessly screw a compliant body beneath him and had employed his full knowledge of the human mind and physiology to the task. Jim’s stubbornness had been no match against that kind of technique and stamina and the Vulcan had wrung orgasms from his body that had reduced him to a gasping, boneless mass of quivering nerves. Eventually, Jim’s physical surrender had been complete.
He vividly remembered that last time; the explosion of stars behind his eyes and the animalistic moan that had escaped his lips as he had lain on his side, inclined on the crimson sheets of their bed, Spock‘s hot body pressed against his back, pushed deep within him, one arm across his shoulders, the other hand still stroking him through his climax, leg wrapped around Jim’s to provide leverage as he thrust in, in. He’d still felt a reluctance to those sexual interludes that had been born of the circumstances but he could also clearly remember how his own arm had snaked out, reaching up over his shoulder to grasp Spock around the back of his neck, clutching, pulling and urging him on.
But Spock’s gradual return to his logical and rational self had brought other changes as well, most notably an active conscience. Spock had acknowledged his mental reticence and never touched Jim again after that night. A part of him had been grateful. An even bigger part of him was still yearning, desperate to experience it as a fully willing participant. There was just no substitute to be had for it, not in all the universe.
What the hell was going on with him? In the course of the past two years, his thoughts were never far from Spock but this obsession with their past sex life was new and unsettling. He had carefully avoided this for so long and now the thoughts came unbidden, almost like they’d been placed in his……
Jim bolted up. No, it couldn’t be. It was way too soon. But what other explanation was there. Spock had kept himself so carefully hidden for the last two years. The only possible reason for this sudden breach was if he had fallen into a state of mind that made it impossible to maintain those carefully constructed shield. Oh, fuck this shit. I’ve had it with being the obedient, supportive little wife. What the fuck is going on. Channeling his intense frustration, Jim once again pushed out with his mind. If he was seeing Spock’s thoughts, there must be some chink in the armor that was allowing Spock’s mind to push through. Still he felt nothing. Mentally spitting on his hands and fully embracing his never say die attitude, Jim pushed again, even further. Still nothing. Turning in frustration, he punched the bulkhead hard, his hand exploding in pain. Using the physical agony to his advantage, he harnessed the excess aggression to push out yet again. There, finally, he felt the actual wall. Running mental hands along its breadth, he finally located the small breach. He reached out towards it and was blown back by a scorching pain. A heat too intense to be born flung him back into his cabin on the Aberdeen.
Holy SHIT!! So that was what it felt like. It was suddenly easier to understand Spock’s descent into animalistic insanity. A person might do anything to quench that fire. But how had this happened? Everything Jim had ever heard indicated that it was a seven year cycle. Really, though, that was hardly the point right now. Spock was about to enter pon farr, he knew it, and that meant that his bond mate, his soulmate probably had about two weeks to live.
Dammin, dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!!!! He didn’t know what to do. Spock had asked him to let him go, had asked to be allowed to reclaim his sense of honor with the sacrifice of his life. Could Jim really deny him that?
Oh hell, of course he could! This whole death as a pathway to life bullshit had just never sat well with him. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t just sit passively by while the love of his life quit out on them. Fuck it, if he wants to reclaim his honor, he sure as hell isn’t going to take the easy way out. We’ll get through this together and then he’ll live and he can sacrifice his life by vowing to spend the rest of it kissing my ass and making it up to me. Isn’t that how married couples are supposed to make up?
Secure in his own warped brand of logic, Jim sprang into action. Striding out the door of his cabin, he yelled, “Pav, Scotty, where are you? We need to talk.”
Thirty-seven hours later, the Aberdeen pulled out of warp. Scotty had tested the ship’s engines to their limits and they were now deep in Federation Space. Certainly close enough to send a message. Jim slid into the command chair while Chekov established the necessary link.
The face that appeared on the screen was perhaps a little older than when Jim had last seen it but the calm, stoic expression that the Vulcan wore hadn’t changed a bit. He found himself at a sudden loss for words as he starred at the features that so resembled the man he loved and was determined to save.
“It is gratifying to see you, Jim, Mr. Scott. Mr. Chekov, you do not know me but I most assuredly know you,” the Vulcan’s lips turned up in the slightest hint of a smile at Pavel’s confusion.
Collecting himself, Jim found his voice, “Spock! It’s good to see you, too. Listen, I’d love to play catch up but there’s no time. I need to know what’s going on with him.”
Spock’s counterpart appeared to take a moment to gather his thoughts and choose his words, “Jim, since you are initiating this contact, then I must assume that you are aware of what has occurred. It is difficult to say with measured exactitude but I estimate he has twelve days to live.”
“How, Spock? How did this happen? It’s supposed to take seven years.”
“This is true, and the cycle is usually quite precise. However, there are several things to take into account. First, he, and I for that matter, are hybrids. The human portion of our DNA can affect the onset. It did this to me several times throughout my life, usually during times of great upheaval. Remember, the pon farr is a hormonal reaction and both Vulcan and human hormones can be affected by stress levels. And he has experienced stress. Maintaining the block he placed on your bond only exacerbated the situation. His ability to meditate has been compromised for many months. In light of these outside influences, it is understandable that the situation manifested early. He and I had discussed this possibility and he had accepted it. As far as you becoming aware of the situation, that will only increase in the coming days. He will not be able to maintain the block on your bond for much longer as it requires a balanced and disciplined mind, which he is rapidly losing. I assume you have already felt or sensed some of these changes.”
Jim thought back to the sexually charged memories that had been streaming through his head. Where has your mind been going, Spock? “Yeah, I’ve definitely noticed. So, you’ve seen him then?”
“Yes, Jim, I visit him at least once a week when I am on the planet. His father is there almost daily. He is receiving as much support as we can offer and we will see him through this time.”
“So, he still wants to die?”
“Yes, he still views it as a matter of reclaiming his honor.”
“And what if I told you I thought that was pure horseshit?”
“Equine excremental references aside, I believe I understand your colorful metaphor. And I believe I would be inclined to agree with it.”
Jim sat back in his chair. He had run this conversation with the older Spock through his head several times as they traveled towards New Vulcan but the one thing he had never expected was agreement.
“So, if you agree that it’s an asinine waist of life, maybe you’ll also agree with the next part.”
“I believe you intend to, how you say, bust him out?”
Jim slapped his leg, “Yes, exactly. We’re planning a prison break from New Vulcan. So, good idea, bad idea, am I crazy? What do you think?”
Spock quirked his brow, “I have many thoughts. First, in light of your possible insanity, I would only comment that you are James Tiberius Kirk. You could never be anyone else. And because of who you are, I was fully expecting this course of action. I knew you would not simply let him die. However, you must realize two things. First, he believes he wants to die. He is committed to this course of action. After this is all over, it will fall to you to convince him that he has a path in this life. I personally have tremendous faith that you will be successful, having learned about faith myself from your counterpart. But all this must wait until after you have dealt with the more immediate issue.
Jim, by the time you arrive, he will most likely be entering the plak tow. This means he will be beyond the capacity for rational thought. His desire will be to mate and you will be his target.”
Jim starred down at his hands, carefully avoiding three sets of eyes currently trained on him, “I get that. We’ll come up with something to handle it. For now, what can you tell us about this prison?”
“I’ve done some preliminary reconnaissance of the site during my visits. It is minimally staffed and largely computer operated. I strongly suggest that Mr. Chekov employ some of his unique computer skills to this problem. I can provide you with a map to his cell and a location of all the fixed guard posts. There are several guards who roam at will but I have taken the liberty of assessing their most likely routes.” Sitting back, Spock looked moderately satisfied with himself.
The expression on the three human’s faces was identical incredulity. “Um, have you ever broken out of prison before, Mr. Spock?” Scotty quipped good-naturedly.
“Indeed I have,” the Vulcan replied with complete sincerity, “Seventeen times, to be exact. I can also relate the exact figures for the incidences in which I have broken out of prison accompanied by the three of you.” His eyes twinkled at their startled expressions, “This can be done, I assure you. In fact, I estimate probability of success to be about 93.7%. However, the odds will be deducted by a full 90% if you do not have a plan of contingency for dealing with my counterpart. He will be savage at that point. And if he becomes aware of your presence Jim, there will be nothing that can hold him. I know that you understand what I am saying.”
Jim thought for a moment, “Okay, how about knocking him out?”
“The use of a nerve pinch could be affective but someone would have to get close enough to him to administer it. I could possibly….”
“No, Spock, I want you to have plausible deniability. You and Sarek. But I think I have an idea. There has to be some kind of ventilation system in this place, right. Something that is probably controlled by the computer?”
“Yes, I have noticed such a system.”
“Okay, so if Pav gets a hold of the computer system, we could pump some kind of sedative into his cell and knock him out. Then we just have to avoid the guards, get Pav to throw the lock and drag him back to the ship. Sounds easy enough to me.”
“Yes, Jim, theoretically. But this is not a regular Vulcan. He is in pon farr. A standard sedative is not going to have any effect on him.”
“Alright, so all we really need then is someone with a basic medical understanding of Vulcan biology who can mix up a highly specific chemical compound in almost no time with limited resources and then affectively administer it with absolutely no chance for a trial run……..right.”
Spock looked almost quizzical for a moment, “That is correct.”
Jim smiled, “Well, it just so happens that I know a guy. And I think you know where I can find him