Fic: All of My Maps Have Been Overthrown (K/S 1/5)
Title: All Of My Maps Have Been Overthrown
Rating: R, eventually NC-17
Summary: Written in response to this prompt at st_xi_kink_meme. Jim can bring one person back from death. He choose Amanda.
Author Notes: While this is K/S, it's not an established relationship. I'll post the fic over today and tomorrow. The title is from Wilco's You Are My Face. Merry Christmas, everybody!
When the Pandorians had insisted that Jim visit their planet alone, he had been simultaneously annoyed, curious, and a little bit afraid. While the Pandorians had proven themselves to be a peaceful and friendly people, as well as an excellent addition to the Federation, Jim found it hard to trust what was essentially a race of Gods. Their powers were exceptional, their abilities without end. If they had wanted to simply blink Jim out of existence, he would have absolutely no recourse. So it didn’t really matter if he beamed down with his entire crew-he was at their mercy. Not a position that Jim Kirk ever liked to be in.
But after they made their offer, Jim was glad to be alone. He was happy that he bore the responsibility on his shoulders alone, and nobody else had to be there to second-guess, or suffer through, the decision. It was easier that way. Especially since he alone would be responsible for the potential consequences. He alone would be left to face the inevitable guilt. And there would be guilt. Jim had no doubt about that. Regardless of his final choice. Regardless of his rationale for his decision. Regardless of the time he took or the factors he considered, there would be the fear that maybe, maybe, he had done the wrong thing.
That the Pandorians were capable of doing just what they claimed they would, he had no doubts. In fact, he had seen it with his own two eyes. During the final battle, Lily-one of the youngest of their race-had been hit with phaser fire. The phaser had obviously been set to kill and she disappeared before she could even scream. Jim had been ten feet away from her at the time. Too far away to reach her. Too far away to push her out of the way. He hadn’t even had a chance to shout a warning. Even a God can’t cheat death. He remembered those words flashing through his mind with sickening clarity. Their power, while impressive, was nothing compared to the technology of a society with warp capabilities, and the Klingons were bound and determined to prove that.
But when the dust finally settled and the dead were accounted for, Lily had been there. Whole. Smiling. With absolutely no memory of being demolished at a cellular level. He had been the only member of the Enterprise who even realized that Lily had been killed during the battle, so he was the only one with questions. Questions that he wisely kept to himself. One didn’t interrogate a miracle. He had been absolutely terrified. Everything inside of him quaked at the realization of what he had just witnessed. Everything he had understood about life and death had been flipped upside down, and the knowledge of their power immediately made him consider the ramifications. And the possibilities. Was it magic or science? Mysticism or mathematical formulas? Were there rules? He didn’t want to know the terrible answers.
Jim still didn’t want to know the terrible answers. He didn’t know where the soul dwelled when it was away from the body. He didn’t want to know how they had reassembled her vaporized body. And everything inside of him told him to run away from what they were offering. How many works of literature explored this very conundrum? And how many came to the same conclusion? Life, once lost, could never be restored. It didn’t matter how much you pled and it didn’t matter how much you cried. Tears couldn’t resurrect a body, and neither could endless prayers, and neither could anger. No amount of bargaining would ever work. And yet these aliens, these Pandorians claimed the power. And they were offering that power to him. For one moment. For one person.
Just one.
How could they ask that of him? How could they offer that as a reward when every single person on his ship had lost somebody close to them? Every single crewmember bore the scars of a parent’s death, or a lover’s untimely demise. So many of them had lost friends, relatives, and spouses during the Narada Engagement. Not to mention his own losses. How could he ever look his mother in the eye again with the knowledge that he could have brought back her husband, the father of her sons, and had chosen not to?
Despite his uncertainty and anger, this was not an unusual situation or a unique decision. He was just usually on the other side of it, selecting which of his crew he would send to death rather than selecting the one person he would bring back. A great deal of his training at the Academy had been directly related to dealing with that decision. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how perfectly he commanded, he would lose fine men and women in the line of duty. They would die at their stations. They would beam off the ship and never return. Their bodies would be shot out into space, or they would be buried in an alien planet in unmarked graves. If they were buried at all. They would be shot and cut down. They would catch mysterious illnesses and spend their final moments thrashing and hallucinating in a fevered state. McCoy hated working in space, and he was right to.
Jim would have liked to have Bones there. He was certain that the other man had the experience necessary for this decision. Didn’t he make life and death decisions all the time? Wasn’t he accustomed to prioritizing one person over another when it came to life-saving treatment? But even that wasn’t quite the same thing as plunging his hand into the ether and plucking out one soul among billions. One precious soul. One soul prized above all others.
“I can’t do this.”
Lily smiled at him with gentle understanding. “I understand that this is not a choice to be made lightly. But it is a gift.”
“I don’t want to make the wrong choice.”
“How can this question be divided into something as binary as right and wrong?” Lily asked. “Let your heart decide.”
“My heart?” Jim snorted. “My heart is a poor judge. It never makes the right choice.”
“I can see this troubles you. Perhaps you wish to receive a different gift?”
“No,” Jim said quickly. “No. But I have a few questions.”
“Ask whatever you wish.”
“When you bring the person back, do they feel anything? Any pain?”
Lily’s face didn’t change. It looked as young, as tranquil, as before. There wasn’t even a hint of recognition in her eyes, and that’s when Jim understood that whoever he chose truly would be ignorant of their own death. There would be no painful memories, no trauma, no tears.
“We have never received any reports of pain. In fact, each time we have brought a person back, they never indicate they remember dying at all.”
“How often do you bring somebody back?”
Lily shook her head. “Not often. It is not a decision that we take lightly.”
“So when somebody dies, you don’t just automatically bring somebody back?” Jim asked.
“No. There are certain requirements. Certain rules.”
“Are you bending the rules now for me?”
Lily smiled. “Not quite bending them. But yes, this is outside the realm of our normal behavior, if not our laws.”
“Nobody ever…regrets it?”
“I think I understand your fear, James Kirk. This is not a trick. It’s not a test. You will not find that yourself being punished for making the wrong decision, and you will not suffer negative consequences if you follow your heart.”
“Do you ever tell somebody you resurrected that they died?”
“No.” Lily’s smile faded, and her gaze drifted over his shoulder. “It’s kinder not to. Too often people try to remember what it was like. Others lose respect for death and act in foolish and dangerous ways. They believe they are immortal, but they forget they are not invulnerable.”
Jim almost smiled. “Yeah, I think I understand that mindset. So, how does this work? I just tell you the name of the person? And it can be anybody?”
“Yes. Though the more information you give us, the better. It’s a big universe, after all. It’s important to be specific.”
“That makes sense. Look…I don’t want to talk anybody out of this, but if word gets out that your people have the ability to resurrect the dead, there would be no end of trouble.”
Lily frowned as though that had never occurred to her. “Would you be able to keep it a secret?”
“I…” How to explain the sudden appearance of a person who had been dead for years? How could he even begin to talk away that remarkable occurrence? Of course, he could swear everybody on the ship to secrecy. But it would be a simple matter to have the planet classified as dangerous as quarantined. “Yes, I believe I could.”
“I trust you. We all trust you, James Kirk.”
Jim was beginning to suspect that was the problem. Starfleet trusted him. His crew trusted him. The Pandorians trusted him. And sometimes-in moments like this-he didn’t feel remotely worthy of that trust. Not because he wasn’t trying his best. God knew that he was. He just didn’t have the confidence to believe his best was good enough. Especially in this particular circumstance. But he knew he was not going to leave without accepting their generosity. He knew that he wouldn’t return to the Enterprise on his own.
He would love to meet his father. He would love to shake George Kirk’s hand and touch the man who had just been the ghost haunting his life and every step he took. He would love to show his father the Enterprise. To have the chance to say look Dad. Look what I’ve done. And then he would see the proud smile in response. The smile he had waited his entire life to witness. The smile he would never see if he lived to be two hundred years old.
But George Kirk had died a hero. A young man at the very peak of his life, he had sacrificed everything to save his crew, his wife, and his unborn child. It was a sacrifice that Jim would never be allowed to forget. Would resurrecting him undermine that sacrifice? Would it somehow diminish the choice he made? Would it be disrespectful despite his best intentions? Was he over thinking the whole thing? Because as much as he’d like to meet his father, at the end of the day, they would be strangers. There were no memories between them. Nothing to build on. And there was a hole in Jim’s life, but it was not in the shape of George Kirk.
“I think I’ve made my decision.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. I am. How long will it take?”
Lily shook her head. “Not long. You can wait here, if you like. What is the name?”
Jim smiled.
#
The Bridge always ran like clockwork no matter who sat in the captain’s chair. Even so, Spock was always one hundred percent aware of what was happening around him, from the adjustments Sulu made while they were in orbit to the standard communications that Uhura received. He was always prepared for a threat to reveal itself, though Spock knew the statistical likelihood of anything happening while they were in orbit was a mere two percent. Vigilance was still required, especially since Klingons had been in the area so recently, but no real threat existed.
“Spock?”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
Uhura rose from her station and circled over to stand beside him. “What do you think is going on with Captain Kirk?”
“I do not know.”
“He’s been down there a long time, don’t you think?”
“He’s been planet side for six point eight hours.”
“Yeah, Spock, that’s kind of my point. The message I received from the High Counsel was that they wished to offer Captain Kirk a gift of appreciation. And they insisted that he go down alone. Which is against at least three different regulations.”
“Are you worried, Nyota?” Spock asked softly.
“A little, yeah. And don’t tell me that I’m being illogical. We don’t know what they’re capable of. We don’t even know if they’re really on our side. The only reason we helped them was to stop the Klingons from gaining more ground in Federation space.”
“Yes, I am aware of that. Is the Captain’s frequency still open?”
“Yes.”
“Given that fact, and the fact that we haven’t received…” Spock’s words were cut off by an alert from the transporter room. He flicked the intercom on. “Spock here.”
“Spock, Kirk here. I want you to meet me in sickbay.”
A dozen questions immediately sprung to Spock’s mind, but now wasn’t the time or place to question his captain. “Yes, sir.” He flicked the intercom off and turned to address the bridge. “Lieutenant Sulu, you have the conn.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was illogical to make assumptions when he had so little information. All information about the Pandorians pointed to a very peaceful, intelligent civilization. While they were still a pre-warp society, it was only a matter of time until they too conquered space travel. They had been grateful for Starfleet’s intervention in general, and for the role Captain Kirk had played in particular. Therefore, it was not reasonable to assume that they had done anything to hurt the Captain. And the faint hint of fear on the periphery of his mine was even more irrational. After his display of rage and grief on the bridge of the Enterprise, Spock no longer kept up the pretense that he did not experience emotions. But when it came to Captain Kirk, it was best to ignore emotions as often as possible.
Still, Spock had not entirely dismissed that vague fear by the time he reached the sickbay doors. They gently swished open, revealing three people. The first two he had expected to see, of course. Captain Kirk stood beside Dr. McCoy, his arms folded, his face set in a surprisingly serious frown, but he was clearly not injured. The expression on McCoy’s face was more difficult to name. Despite his time living among humans, he was not familiar with the truly wide range of emotions they experienced, or the slight nuances of each one. Therefore, he couldn’t recognize the emotion he saw reflected in the doctor’s eyes.
Not until that emotion slammed him in the chest.
The woman smiled at him. The same smile he had seen in his dreams countless times. She held her arms out to him in a gesture that was so familiar, and when he was a child, so unwanted. He felt himself moving. Or perhaps the room was moving. He couldn’t feel his legs. His eyes stung with alien pain. His face burned. His chest burned. The carefully ordered Universe that Spock had struggled so valiantly to understand fell apart and everything he thought he understood became unreal.
“Spock?”
He heard her voice. He understood she wanted him. But this could not be. His heart cried out for her, but his mind refused to let him move. This was a trick because there simply could not be any other explanation. The woman in front of him could not be his mother because his mother had perished on Vulcan three years ago. That was a fact. Concrete truth. The only truth in the Universe that mattered. So this must have been a trick.
“Spock?” This time it was Kirk’s voice.
Spock turned to him, desperate for an explanation. “Captain?”
“It’s real. She’s real. I promise you that.”
“It’s her,” McCoy confirmed. “I ran a scan and compared it to her records. There’s absolutely no question of her identity.”
Amanda laughed. “Listen to you three. Who else would I be?”
“Mother…” But Spock was at a loss. He couldn’t say anything else and he couldn’t move.
“I probably should have handled this differently,” Kirk muttered. “Spock, come with me. Ms. Grayson, if you’ll excuse us.”
Spock couldn’t respond to a request from his own mother, but when he heard his Captain’s order, there was no question of obeying. He followed the other man into McCoy’s private office, surprised that he could walk at all under his own power.
“I’m sorry, Spock. I probably should have tried to explain first.”
“I do not understand how this is possible, Captain.” The statement barely scratched the surface of his confusion, but it was the best he could manage.
“That makes us two of us. But apparently, the Pandorians have had this ability since the beginning of their civilization. I wouldn’t have believed it at all, except I witnessed it with my own eyes. Lily was shot during the battle with the Klingons. She disintegrated right in front of me.”
Spock shook his head. “That cannot be. I discussed the planet’s defense system with her on the night we beamed back to the Enterprise.”
“Yeah, I know. To show us their gratitude for our assistance, they offered me the chance to choose one person to bring back.”
“But how?”
“Spock, I really don’t know. And I think you’re kind of missing the larger point here.”
“Is it really her?”
“Lily told me it would be. Bones said it’s here. But I think you’re really the only person who can answer that question.”
Yes, Spock could understand that point. And yet, if the replica was complete and accurate enough to fool the doctor’s scanners, then surely it would fool him. Especially since his human emotions were threatening to cloud everything and completely take him over.
“What was the price?” Spock asked.
“There wasn’t one. It was a gift.”
“Does she know?”
“No. She has no concept that three years has passed, and she won’t know until you tell her. But it’s best if we don’t tell her she died. That could have a serious impact on her. Lily warned me about that.”
“It’s not possible.”
“Clearly, it is possible. Whatever the secret of life and death is, they’ve found it. I don’t know if it’s magic or science or something else completely. But I do know what I saw. And I know your mother is in the next room waiting to see you. We’ll keep running tests. If she’s some sort of imposter…”
If she was an imposter, Spock didn’t want to know. Illogical, but no less factual because of that. He didn’t want to lose his mother twice. He couldn’t stand that.
“Go to her,” Kirk repeated softly.
He had no choice but to comply. His heart wanted so very badly for this to be real. When the door opened, she was still standing there, patiently waiting while Dr. McCoy ran his tricorder over her. She smiled when she saw Spock. How many times had he been mortified by that smile? How many times had he wished his mother had been less human? He had been young and foolish at the time, but the memory still stung. Had she ever known? He hoped not. He most sincerely hoped not.
“There you are. I was beginning to think I’d have to go and find you.”
“You’ve had a long journey, Mother. I’m sure you would be more comfortable in your own quarters.”
She frowned at the mention of a journey. “You know, Spock, it’s the strangest thing. I remember when you came for us, but I don’t remember anything after that. Have I been on the ship for very long?”
Spock stared at her, completely at a loss. He was not prepared to lie to her. He was not prepared to answer any of her questions. “No, not long.”
“You look different.”
“Do I?”
She cupped the side of his face, and Spock couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Her hand felt right-the cool texture of the skin, the length of her fingers. She even smelled right. That sweet scent that comprised of his first sensory memory. It enveloped and entranced him, and he suddenly felt like a child.
“Yes. Older. Around the eyes.” She smiled with a touch of sadness and pulled her hand away. “Though I suppose I’ll always remember you as my little boy.”
“Do you remember me? Everything?”
“Of course. What kind of question is that, Spock?” She looked so honestly perplexed that Spock almost felt ridiculous asking her at all. Like he had no right to voice such things. Especially since she apparently had no recollection of death.
“My apologies, mother, it’s nothing. Come. I’ll show you to your room.”
Amanda looked over to McCoy. “Well, Doctor? Do I have your approval to leave?”
“Yes.” McCoy swallowed. “Healthy as a horse. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’ll explain everything later, Mother.” He touched her elbow very briefly. He only meant to nudge her towards the door. But at that moment, his body became convinced of the truth that his mind refused to grasp and the floor seemed to dip beneath him. He had never fainted in his life, but he was in very real danger of precisely that. His legs turned to water, his bones to mush. The room spun with alarming speed, and he heard McCoy say his name, but he couldn’t actually see the doctor. He couldn’t see anything except his mother.
His mother. Returned to him. A miracle.
Strong arms closed around his arms and stopped him from crumpling to the floor. “Spock? Are you all right? Do you need McCoy to check you out?”
“No, thank you.” His voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to him. “There is no need for that?”
“Are you sure?” Jim’s voice seemed louder now. Or maybe his ears just weren’t buzzing now. “You nearly hit the floor.”
“I am quite well, I assure you.” He gently pulled away from the Captain’s grip. “I was just about to show my mother to her quarters. The state room beside mine is currently empty, if that’s satisfactory to you.”
“Sure, Spock. Whatever you think is best.”
“Spock, if you’re feeling ill…”
“No, mother, I feel quite well.” He offered his arm to her, but this time when they touched, he didn’t feel the same sickening sense of vertigo. “I assure you.”
She patted his arm affectionately. “I believe you.”
Spock half expected her to disappear into a cloud of smoke the moment they stepped outside of sickbay. But nothing like that happened. Nothing at all extraordinary happened. She walked like his mother. She talked liked his mother. She smiled like her, and she watched him with the same infinite patience and adoration that he had become so accustomed to as a child. How she had loved him then. How she still loved him.
That couldn’t be replicated, could it? If somebody wanted to create a carbon copy of Amanda Grayson, it would be simple to do. There were holographs of her easily available. He knew the Federation had extensive records of her life simply because she had been the first Terran to marry a Vulcan. It would not be difficult to copy her looks, her background, or her knowledge. But the look that had always been reserved for Spock alone-how could anybody copy that so accurately? How could that look exist if it wasn’t real?
Trying to apply logic to an entirely illogical situation was, as Captain Kirk might say, a losing game. It would not sooth the tumult of his mind or of his emotions. But Kirk had been wrong about one thing. It wouldn’t be either McCoy’s scanners or his own feelings that would decide if his mother was nothing more than a clever trick. There was only one way to confirm her identity. He would need to contact his father. Sarek would recognize his wife and bondmate. In the meantime, Spock had no other choice but to treat her as his mother, but keep his distance while he did it.
Even if that would hurt both of them.
Rating: R, eventually NC-17
Summary: Written in response to this prompt at st_xi_kink_meme. Jim can bring one person back from death. He choose Amanda.
Author Notes: While this is K/S, it's not an established relationship. I'll post the fic over today and tomorrow. The title is from Wilco's You Are My Face. Merry Christmas, everybody!
When the Pandorians had insisted that Jim visit their planet alone, he had been simultaneously annoyed, curious, and a little bit afraid. While the Pandorians had proven themselves to be a peaceful and friendly people, as well as an excellent addition to the Federation, Jim found it hard to trust what was essentially a race of Gods. Their powers were exceptional, their abilities without end. If they had wanted to simply blink Jim out of existence, he would have absolutely no recourse. So it didn’t really matter if he beamed down with his entire crew-he was at their mercy. Not a position that Jim Kirk ever liked to be in.
But after they made their offer, Jim was glad to be alone. He was happy that he bore the responsibility on his shoulders alone, and nobody else had to be there to second-guess, or suffer through, the decision. It was easier that way. Especially since he alone would be responsible for the potential consequences. He alone would be left to face the inevitable guilt. And there would be guilt. Jim had no doubt about that. Regardless of his final choice. Regardless of his rationale for his decision. Regardless of the time he took or the factors he considered, there would be the fear that maybe, maybe, he had done the wrong thing.
That the Pandorians were capable of doing just what they claimed they would, he had no doubts. In fact, he had seen it with his own two eyes. During the final battle, Lily-one of the youngest of their race-had been hit with phaser fire. The phaser had obviously been set to kill and she disappeared before she could even scream. Jim had been ten feet away from her at the time. Too far away to reach her. Too far away to push her out of the way. He hadn’t even had a chance to shout a warning. Even a God can’t cheat death. He remembered those words flashing through his mind with sickening clarity. Their power, while impressive, was nothing compared to the technology of a society with warp capabilities, and the Klingons were bound and determined to prove that.
But when the dust finally settled and the dead were accounted for, Lily had been there. Whole. Smiling. With absolutely no memory of being demolished at a cellular level. He had been the only member of the Enterprise who even realized that Lily had been killed during the battle, so he was the only one with questions. Questions that he wisely kept to himself. One didn’t interrogate a miracle. He had been absolutely terrified. Everything inside of him quaked at the realization of what he had just witnessed. Everything he had understood about life and death had been flipped upside down, and the knowledge of their power immediately made him consider the ramifications. And the possibilities. Was it magic or science? Mysticism or mathematical formulas? Were there rules? He didn’t want to know the terrible answers.
Jim still didn’t want to know the terrible answers. He didn’t know where the soul dwelled when it was away from the body. He didn’t want to know how they had reassembled her vaporized body. And everything inside of him told him to run away from what they were offering. How many works of literature explored this very conundrum? And how many came to the same conclusion? Life, once lost, could never be restored. It didn’t matter how much you pled and it didn’t matter how much you cried. Tears couldn’t resurrect a body, and neither could endless prayers, and neither could anger. No amount of bargaining would ever work. And yet these aliens, these Pandorians claimed the power. And they were offering that power to him. For one moment. For one person.
Just one.
How could they ask that of him? How could they offer that as a reward when every single person on his ship had lost somebody close to them? Every single crewmember bore the scars of a parent’s death, or a lover’s untimely demise. So many of them had lost friends, relatives, and spouses during the Narada Engagement. Not to mention his own losses. How could he ever look his mother in the eye again with the knowledge that he could have brought back her husband, the father of her sons, and had chosen not to?
Despite his uncertainty and anger, this was not an unusual situation or a unique decision. He was just usually on the other side of it, selecting which of his crew he would send to death rather than selecting the one person he would bring back. A great deal of his training at the Academy had been directly related to dealing with that decision. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how perfectly he commanded, he would lose fine men and women in the line of duty. They would die at their stations. They would beam off the ship and never return. Their bodies would be shot out into space, or they would be buried in an alien planet in unmarked graves. If they were buried at all. They would be shot and cut down. They would catch mysterious illnesses and spend their final moments thrashing and hallucinating in a fevered state. McCoy hated working in space, and he was right to.
Jim would have liked to have Bones there. He was certain that the other man had the experience necessary for this decision. Didn’t he make life and death decisions all the time? Wasn’t he accustomed to prioritizing one person over another when it came to life-saving treatment? But even that wasn’t quite the same thing as plunging his hand into the ether and plucking out one soul among billions. One precious soul. One soul prized above all others.
“I can’t do this.”
Lily smiled at him with gentle understanding. “I understand that this is not a choice to be made lightly. But it is a gift.”
“I don’t want to make the wrong choice.”
“How can this question be divided into something as binary as right and wrong?” Lily asked. “Let your heart decide.”
“My heart?” Jim snorted. “My heart is a poor judge. It never makes the right choice.”
“I can see this troubles you. Perhaps you wish to receive a different gift?”
“No,” Jim said quickly. “No. But I have a few questions.”
“Ask whatever you wish.”
“When you bring the person back, do they feel anything? Any pain?”
Lily’s face didn’t change. It looked as young, as tranquil, as before. There wasn’t even a hint of recognition in her eyes, and that’s when Jim understood that whoever he chose truly would be ignorant of their own death. There would be no painful memories, no trauma, no tears.
“We have never received any reports of pain. In fact, each time we have brought a person back, they never indicate they remember dying at all.”
“How often do you bring somebody back?”
Lily shook her head. “Not often. It is not a decision that we take lightly.”
“So when somebody dies, you don’t just automatically bring somebody back?” Jim asked.
“No. There are certain requirements. Certain rules.”
“Are you bending the rules now for me?”
Lily smiled. “Not quite bending them. But yes, this is outside the realm of our normal behavior, if not our laws.”
“Nobody ever…regrets it?”
“I think I understand your fear, James Kirk. This is not a trick. It’s not a test. You will not find that yourself being punished for making the wrong decision, and you will not suffer negative consequences if you follow your heart.”
“Do you ever tell somebody you resurrected that they died?”
“No.” Lily’s smile faded, and her gaze drifted over his shoulder. “It’s kinder not to. Too often people try to remember what it was like. Others lose respect for death and act in foolish and dangerous ways. They believe they are immortal, but they forget they are not invulnerable.”
Jim almost smiled. “Yeah, I think I understand that mindset. So, how does this work? I just tell you the name of the person? And it can be anybody?”
“Yes. Though the more information you give us, the better. It’s a big universe, after all. It’s important to be specific.”
“That makes sense. Look…I don’t want to talk anybody out of this, but if word gets out that your people have the ability to resurrect the dead, there would be no end of trouble.”
Lily frowned as though that had never occurred to her. “Would you be able to keep it a secret?”
“I…” How to explain the sudden appearance of a person who had been dead for years? How could he even begin to talk away that remarkable occurrence? Of course, he could swear everybody on the ship to secrecy. But it would be a simple matter to have the planet classified as dangerous as quarantined. “Yes, I believe I could.”
“I trust you. We all trust you, James Kirk.”
Jim was beginning to suspect that was the problem. Starfleet trusted him. His crew trusted him. The Pandorians trusted him. And sometimes-in moments like this-he didn’t feel remotely worthy of that trust. Not because he wasn’t trying his best. God knew that he was. He just didn’t have the confidence to believe his best was good enough. Especially in this particular circumstance. But he knew he was not going to leave without accepting their generosity. He knew that he wouldn’t return to the Enterprise on his own.
He would love to meet his father. He would love to shake George Kirk’s hand and touch the man who had just been the ghost haunting his life and every step he took. He would love to show his father the Enterprise. To have the chance to say look Dad. Look what I’ve done. And then he would see the proud smile in response. The smile he had waited his entire life to witness. The smile he would never see if he lived to be two hundred years old.
But George Kirk had died a hero. A young man at the very peak of his life, he had sacrificed everything to save his crew, his wife, and his unborn child. It was a sacrifice that Jim would never be allowed to forget. Would resurrecting him undermine that sacrifice? Would it somehow diminish the choice he made? Would it be disrespectful despite his best intentions? Was he over thinking the whole thing? Because as much as he’d like to meet his father, at the end of the day, they would be strangers. There were no memories between them. Nothing to build on. And there was a hole in Jim’s life, but it was not in the shape of George Kirk.
“I think I’ve made my decision.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes. I am. How long will it take?”
Lily shook her head. “Not long. You can wait here, if you like. What is the name?”
Jim smiled.
#
The Bridge always ran like clockwork no matter who sat in the captain’s chair. Even so, Spock was always one hundred percent aware of what was happening around him, from the adjustments Sulu made while they were in orbit to the standard communications that Uhura received. He was always prepared for a threat to reveal itself, though Spock knew the statistical likelihood of anything happening while they were in orbit was a mere two percent. Vigilance was still required, especially since Klingons had been in the area so recently, but no real threat existed.
“Spock?”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
Uhura rose from her station and circled over to stand beside him. “What do you think is going on with Captain Kirk?”
“I do not know.”
“He’s been down there a long time, don’t you think?”
“He’s been planet side for six point eight hours.”
“Yeah, Spock, that’s kind of my point. The message I received from the High Counsel was that they wished to offer Captain Kirk a gift of appreciation. And they insisted that he go down alone. Which is against at least three different regulations.”
“Are you worried, Nyota?” Spock asked softly.
“A little, yeah. And don’t tell me that I’m being illogical. We don’t know what they’re capable of. We don’t even know if they’re really on our side. The only reason we helped them was to stop the Klingons from gaining more ground in Federation space.”
“Yes, I am aware of that. Is the Captain’s frequency still open?”
“Yes.”
“Given that fact, and the fact that we haven’t received…” Spock’s words were cut off by an alert from the transporter room. He flicked the intercom on. “Spock here.”
“Spock, Kirk here. I want you to meet me in sickbay.”
A dozen questions immediately sprung to Spock’s mind, but now wasn’t the time or place to question his captain. “Yes, sir.” He flicked the intercom off and turned to address the bridge. “Lieutenant Sulu, you have the conn.”
“Yes, sir.”
It was illogical to make assumptions when he had so little information. All information about the Pandorians pointed to a very peaceful, intelligent civilization. While they were still a pre-warp society, it was only a matter of time until they too conquered space travel. They had been grateful for Starfleet’s intervention in general, and for the role Captain Kirk had played in particular. Therefore, it was not reasonable to assume that they had done anything to hurt the Captain. And the faint hint of fear on the periphery of his mine was even more irrational. After his display of rage and grief on the bridge of the Enterprise, Spock no longer kept up the pretense that he did not experience emotions. But when it came to Captain Kirk, it was best to ignore emotions as often as possible.
Still, Spock had not entirely dismissed that vague fear by the time he reached the sickbay doors. They gently swished open, revealing three people. The first two he had expected to see, of course. Captain Kirk stood beside Dr. McCoy, his arms folded, his face set in a surprisingly serious frown, but he was clearly not injured. The expression on McCoy’s face was more difficult to name. Despite his time living among humans, he was not familiar with the truly wide range of emotions they experienced, or the slight nuances of each one. Therefore, he couldn’t recognize the emotion he saw reflected in the doctor’s eyes.
Not until that emotion slammed him in the chest.
The woman smiled at him. The same smile he had seen in his dreams countless times. She held her arms out to him in a gesture that was so familiar, and when he was a child, so unwanted. He felt himself moving. Or perhaps the room was moving. He couldn’t feel his legs. His eyes stung with alien pain. His face burned. His chest burned. The carefully ordered Universe that Spock had struggled so valiantly to understand fell apart and everything he thought he understood became unreal.
“Spock?”
He heard her voice. He understood she wanted him. But this could not be. His heart cried out for her, but his mind refused to let him move. This was a trick because there simply could not be any other explanation. The woman in front of him could not be his mother because his mother had perished on Vulcan three years ago. That was a fact. Concrete truth. The only truth in the Universe that mattered. So this must have been a trick.
“Spock?” This time it was Kirk’s voice.
Spock turned to him, desperate for an explanation. “Captain?”
“It’s real. She’s real. I promise you that.”
“It’s her,” McCoy confirmed. “I ran a scan and compared it to her records. There’s absolutely no question of her identity.”
Amanda laughed. “Listen to you three. Who else would I be?”
“Mother…” But Spock was at a loss. He couldn’t say anything else and he couldn’t move.
“I probably should have handled this differently,” Kirk muttered. “Spock, come with me. Ms. Grayson, if you’ll excuse us.”
Spock couldn’t respond to a request from his own mother, but when he heard his Captain’s order, there was no question of obeying. He followed the other man into McCoy’s private office, surprised that he could walk at all under his own power.
“I’m sorry, Spock. I probably should have tried to explain first.”
“I do not understand how this is possible, Captain.” The statement barely scratched the surface of his confusion, but it was the best he could manage.
“That makes us two of us. But apparently, the Pandorians have had this ability since the beginning of their civilization. I wouldn’t have believed it at all, except I witnessed it with my own eyes. Lily was shot during the battle with the Klingons. She disintegrated right in front of me.”
Spock shook his head. “That cannot be. I discussed the planet’s defense system with her on the night we beamed back to the Enterprise.”
“Yeah, I know. To show us their gratitude for our assistance, they offered me the chance to choose one person to bring back.”
“But how?”
“Spock, I really don’t know. And I think you’re kind of missing the larger point here.”
“Is it really her?”
“Lily told me it would be. Bones said it’s here. But I think you’re really the only person who can answer that question.”
Yes, Spock could understand that point. And yet, if the replica was complete and accurate enough to fool the doctor’s scanners, then surely it would fool him. Especially since his human emotions were threatening to cloud everything and completely take him over.
“What was the price?” Spock asked.
“There wasn’t one. It was a gift.”
“Does she know?”
“No. She has no concept that three years has passed, and she won’t know until you tell her. But it’s best if we don’t tell her she died. That could have a serious impact on her. Lily warned me about that.”
“It’s not possible.”
“Clearly, it is possible. Whatever the secret of life and death is, they’ve found it. I don’t know if it’s magic or science or something else completely. But I do know what I saw. And I know your mother is in the next room waiting to see you. We’ll keep running tests. If she’s some sort of imposter…”
If she was an imposter, Spock didn’t want to know. Illogical, but no less factual because of that. He didn’t want to lose his mother twice. He couldn’t stand that.
“Go to her,” Kirk repeated softly.
He had no choice but to comply. His heart wanted so very badly for this to be real. When the door opened, she was still standing there, patiently waiting while Dr. McCoy ran his tricorder over her. She smiled when she saw Spock. How many times had he been mortified by that smile? How many times had he wished his mother had been less human? He had been young and foolish at the time, but the memory still stung. Had she ever known? He hoped not. He most sincerely hoped not.
“There you are. I was beginning to think I’d have to go and find you.”
“You’ve had a long journey, Mother. I’m sure you would be more comfortable in your own quarters.”
She frowned at the mention of a journey. “You know, Spock, it’s the strangest thing. I remember when you came for us, but I don’t remember anything after that. Have I been on the ship for very long?”
Spock stared at her, completely at a loss. He was not prepared to lie to her. He was not prepared to answer any of her questions. “No, not long.”
“You look different.”
“Do I?”
She cupped the side of his face, and Spock couldn’t help but lean into the touch. Her hand felt right-the cool texture of the skin, the length of her fingers. She even smelled right. That sweet scent that comprised of his first sensory memory. It enveloped and entranced him, and he suddenly felt like a child.
“Yes. Older. Around the eyes.” She smiled with a touch of sadness and pulled her hand away. “Though I suppose I’ll always remember you as my little boy.”
“Do you remember me? Everything?”
“Of course. What kind of question is that, Spock?” She looked so honestly perplexed that Spock almost felt ridiculous asking her at all. Like he had no right to voice such things. Especially since she apparently had no recollection of death.
“My apologies, mother, it’s nothing. Come. I’ll show you to your room.”
Amanda looked over to McCoy. “Well, Doctor? Do I have your approval to leave?”
“Yes.” McCoy swallowed. “Healthy as a horse. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“I’ll explain everything later, Mother.” He touched her elbow very briefly. He only meant to nudge her towards the door. But at that moment, his body became convinced of the truth that his mind refused to grasp and the floor seemed to dip beneath him. He had never fainted in his life, but he was in very real danger of precisely that. His legs turned to water, his bones to mush. The room spun with alarming speed, and he heard McCoy say his name, but he couldn’t actually see the doctor. He couldn’t see anything except his mother.
His mother. Returned to him. A miracle.
Strong arms closed around his arms and stopped him from crumpling to the floor. “Spock? Are you all right? Do you need McCoy to check you out?”
“No, thank you.” His voice didn’t even sound like it belonged to him. “There is no need for that?”
“Are you sure?” Jim’s voice seemed louder now. Or maybe his ears just weren’t buzzing now. “You nearly hit the floor.”
“I am quite well, I assure you.” He gently pulled away from the Captain’s grip. “I was just about to show my mother to her quarters. The state room beside mine is currently empty, if that’s satisfactory to you.”
“Sure, Spock. Whatever you think is best.”
“Spock, if you’re feeling ill…”
“No, mother, I feel quite well.” He offered his arm to her, but this time when they touched, he didn’t feel the same sickening sense of vertigo. “I assure you.”
She patted his arm affectionately. “I believe you.”
Spock half expected her to disappear into a cloud of smoke the moment they stepped outside of sickbay. But nothing like that happened. Nothing at all extraordinary happened. She walked like his mother. She talked liked his mother. She smiled like her, and she watched him with the same infinite patience and adoration that he had become so accustomed to as a child. How she had loved him then. How she still loved him.
That couldn’t be replicated, could it? If somebody wanted to create a carbon copy of Amanda Grayson, it would be simple to do. There were holographs of her easily available. He knew the Federation had extensive records of her life simply because she had been the first Terran to marry a Vulcan. It would not be difficult to copy her looks, her background, or her knowledge. But the look that had always been reserved for Spock alone-how could anybody copy that so accurately? How could that look exist if it wasn’t real?
Trying to apply logic to an entirely illogical situation was, as Captain Kirk might say, a losing game. It would not sooth the tumult of his mind or of his emotions. But Kirk had been wrong about one thing. It wouldn’t be either McCoy’s scanners or his own feelings that would decide if his mother was nothing more than a clever trick. There was only one way to confirm her identity. He would need to contact his father. Sarek would recognize his wife and bondmate. In the meantime, Spock had no other choice but to treat her as his mother, but keep his distance while he did it.
Even if that would hurt both of them.