fanfic | stxi | leave no soul behind 7.4a/7.4b (epilogue to follow)
Title: Leave No Soul Behind 7.4a, 10,912 (both parts a&b) words of 240,000+
Fandom: Star Trek XI, TOS references.
Characters: Kirk/Spock, ensemble, OCs.
Rating & Warnings: Strong R - slash, language, adult themes.
Spoilers: For the 2009 movie mostly.
Disclaimer: Fanfiction and fanfiction only, folks.
Betas: the_arc5 who has been so much more than an editor during this process. She's shored me up, urged me on, told me the hard truth and buoyed me with her enthusiasm for this project for over a year! She truly is a great friend as well as a literary asset. There aren't enough positive adjectives in the dictionary for this girl.
Author's Note: This is written for stripedpetunia on trek_exchange. So, here it is, the final chapter. Are we excited? I don't know how to feel. I guess a little anxious, wondering if all of you are going to get the answers you want and like the answers you get ;)
the_arc5 has made a delicious fanmix that she posted over at 2ndstory right here, and I all recommend you download and listen because it made me sniffle and smile. Also, the artwork, so awesome.
sleepwalkerfish has collated the 'official' soundtrack and made gorgeous cover art, so as soon as I've given her the little indie tracks that you can't find anywhere I'll link to that so you can listen to the music I heard when I was writing this, if you like. A huge thanks to her for undertaking this project and being so independent about it. I'm just exhausted from the final phase and couldn't have fathomed doing it myself.
previous
Chapter 7.4a (in two parts here for lj fail)
The planet Earth spins idly, a blue-green globe against the inky blackness of space. The sun sets the atmosphere ablaze with light and heat, the radiation muted by distance, transformed into a life-sustaining glow. So it has been for millennia. Now, with a gaping wound struck to her heart, the Earth stands on a precipice, and humanity with her. Ships flit here and there like fragile moths, circling protectively or avariciously in the void, blinking out of existence one by one to form wreckage. Burnt, twisted and cold, the pieces then aggregate through gravity to form abstract little planetoids; a graveyard testimony to the vast underestimation of Nero's planned revenge.
Above this orbit sits the Narada, spitting out deadly green light at any passing target, but reserving a special kind of hell for the Enterprise. Dwarfed by the sheer mass of the Romulan vessel, outgunned and stripped of her defences, the outcome seems inevitable.
Aboard the enemy ship, Uhura steps forward and places a warning hand on Jim's arm. "This is insane, even for you."
"I'm going to need your decryption abilities," he insists. "I don't do Romulan text all that well."
"Jim..."
"Uhura," he counters sharply, blue eyes deadly serious as he looks up from the lock he's picking. "That's not how this is going to work."
"The Lieutenant has a valid point," T'Loren states calmly. "Proceeding unarmed into the most sensitive areas of Nero's ship seems unwise."
"That's why you two aren't going," Jim says without looking up from the circuitry. "I need you to hold this corridor. Tricorder says there's a transporter bay about twenty meters behind us. It's a dead end defensible position and our best hope of getting off this ship in one piece. Eli and I will disable the black hole device, tag the Red Matter for beaming and deal with Nero."
"I fail to see how you will accomplish those goals unassisted," T'Loren offers blankly.
"I'm just," Jim gives two wires a twist, "that goddamn," he touches them to a bridging circuit and the door releases with a hiss, "awesome," he finishes, looking up with a grin. He catches Uhura's anxious expression and gets to his feet, dusting off his knees from force of habit. "This is not up for discussion. Those are my orders, now fall back and secure our exit."
Still looking rebellious, Uhura snaps off a salute. "Aye, Commander."
T'Loren just holds his eye for a second and then nods.
"I'm giving you guys the easy job," he smirks, "so those transporters better be working by the time I get back."
With that, he slaps Eli on the back and ducks carefully through the jimmied maintenance hatch, hands already raised in surrender. When Eli follows, T'Loren is quick to shut the door, carefully disengaging the hotwired circuit so that it cannot be reopened from the other side. She looks up to find Uhura cradling her phaser rifle and staring at the hatch, distress plain on her face.
"Let us hope Kirk's plan is successful," T'Loren offers, checking her own weapon.
"What goddamn plan?" Uhura sighs, running a gloved hand down her face. "Spock is going to kill me," she adds.
-:-
Jim was feeling good about his plan right up until now. Well, if not good about it, then at the very least reasonably confident they'd survive. Then the ridiculous number of Romulan guards have to throw them to their knees in front of a raised dais and Eli gives him a look as if to say, 'this was not your best idea.' When a booted foot emerges from the shadows engulfing the platform and turns the throne to reveal Nero in all his manic, threatening glory...yeah, Jim is kind of forced to agree with Eli's assessment of the situation.
"Hello, Jim," Nero says conversationally. "We haven't met before, but I'm Nero."
"Uh, yeah." He looks to Eli for support and gets nothing. "I know."
The Romulan licks his teeth and smiles, relaxing against the command chair's tall frame. "Of course you do. Never forget the man who murders your family, that's my motto." He ignores Jim's flinch and waves a hand airily. "We have that in common, you and I."
"What?" Jim narrows his eyes in mock-confusion. "You want to bond over our shitty childhoods, is that it?"
"Well..." Nero pauses to consider this idea, "it does interfere with my plan to kill you slowly and by increments."
"Yeah, I might have to hold that one against you."
"Understandable," Nero nods, his gaze flicking to Jim's companion. "Who is this you've brought with you? One of Spock's loyal followers? A friend?"
Eli lifts his chin slightly. "A scientist," he answers. "A colleague."
"A Vulcan," Nero sneers, scars bunching along his cheek and jaw as he does so. He turns back to Jim. "What terrible company you keep, James Kirk. I may have to find you guilty by association."
"Guilty of what, exactly?" Jim asks, licking his lips.
"Genocide."
"Oh, that," Jim rolls his eyes. "Still rambling on about that, are you? I've got news for you: that happened in another universe. You might not have noticed, but Romulus still very much exists in this universe, so it doesn't make a lot of sense to go around punishing innocent people for something that never happened."
"It happened!" Nero roars. "I saw it happen! Don't tell me it didn't happen!" Spittle flies from his lips as he leans forward in the chair, teeth bared. "In this reality, in mine, the same chain of events will lead to the same result. And you," his eyes narrow, "you stand before me as a willing associate of the one who lets it come to pass."
Jim spreads his hands placatingly and starts to smile. "Seriously, this is where you get confused."
"Silence!" Nero's shout echoes off the metal walls, filling the dank hall with refracted syllables. "I did not bring you here to debate history or dictate to me the course of the future. You have something of mine, something that doesn't belong to you, and I will have it back."
Jim shifts his eyes to Nero's outstretched, grasping hand and then back up to his slitted eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Momentary fury washes over his scarred face, but then Nero throws his head back and laughs. He laughs long and hard, teeth bared in a grimace as he shakes his head at the floor. "Even now, my enemy taunts me." He snorts and then his head snaps up, eyes alighting on the closest guard. "Change of plan; bring me Spock as well."
The guard nods and runs for the closest exit. Jim takes the opportunity to study the interior of the ship. What he sees only confirms the information Prime dumped into his brain during the mindmeld. For all Nero's obsession with future tech, the Narada is almost archaic, even by twenty-third century standards. None of the guards carry comm units, and there is no evidence of technological advancement beyond the level one would expect concurrent with Nero's native time period. Starfleet, F-Sec and EPAS have latched onto every last scrap of future tech that fell through the rifts. Small advancements, most of them, but there had been no hesitation within the Federation about implementing them. When faced with a clear and present threat, it makes sense to use every weapon in your arsenal.
Nero hasn't.
Jim allows himself an inward smile. Spock's counterpart is correct; they have leverage.
The relief lasts only until the moment Prime himself is dragged into the room. The guards also escort a woman, but Jim hardly notices. A deep abiding sadness washes over him at the sight of his former mentor and ally. Prime is bent and broken, his lean Vulcan frame wasted by starvation to almost skeletal proportions. It makes his angular face seem incongruously large and hides his eyes in shadow. His hair, once salt and pepper grey, is now completely white with trauma. Jim knows in his gut that even if Prime survives this, the ordeal will have taken years off his life.
Still, the tough old bastard manages a nod in his direction. "Jim," he rasps. "A pleasure to see you again, old friend. I see you got my message."
He takes a firm hold on his emotions and shrugs. "You're fucking cryptic, you know that?"
"My apologies."
"Also, that headache was unbelievable..."
"Speak again without my permission and I will kill him," Nero says, directing the comment to Jim. "He lives now only because I wish it so."
Jim raises a hand for permission to speak. "And why is that? What do you want with him?"
"First, he will give me back my wife. Then, he will be allowed to watch you die."
Jim glances at the young Romulan woman flanked by guards and more of the mindmeld puzzle pieces click into place. He knows her face, her name, even though he's never seen her before. "Forgive me, but that doesn't sound like much of an incentive."
Nero's hands flex around the arms of his chair and Jim can tell he's holding back from violence by the narrowest of margins. "Being the carrier of my wife's katra, I cannot harm you or risk harming her," he whispers furiously. "The same will not be true when this is done."
"Promises, promises," Jim sighs, knowing he's skirting the edge of a very dangerous precipice, but filled with the knowledge that Nero must invest as much emotion as possible in this situation for Prime's plan to work.
"You will do it now," Nero says menacingly to Prime. "Or I destroy the Earth."
Involuntarily, Prime, Kirk and Eli all glance at the globulus sphere of Red Matter that sits imprisoned behind the containment field in the center of the room. Beside it, neatly stacked in cages, are the delivery devices. Within each sits a scarlet mote suspended in an inert gel, ready to suck the Earth inside out at Nero's whim.
Jim steels himself for the performance of his life, because if Nero doesn't buy this, they're all dead. A guard lifts him to his feet by the scruff of his neck, throwing him towards Prime and the Romulan woman so hard that he stumbles. Drawing closer to her, Jim can see the fear in her eyes, the way her hands flutter at her sides like the wings of a trapped bird.
"Don't worry," he tells her, managing a fairly convincing smile. "It's going to be okay."
"This is not the way to conduct a fal-tor-pan," Prime grates out, his sweeping brows drawn inwards into a frown. "It takes days of meditation."
"And I have given you weeks with her, even though the thought of it made me sick." Nero swallows heavily. "You have had ample time to prepare her mind, Spock, and I will not delay my hour of victory a moment longer."
Spock hangs his head, apparently resolved to the situation. On the surface he looks broken in more ways than one, but as Jim draws close enough to touch, he can see the fierce determination in those dark eyes. For an instant a more familiar, younger face is overlaid and he feels a moment's kinship with this Spock. No matter that he meddled in Jim's life for his own ends, that interference was once the only point of joy in an otherwise bleak existence. Does Jim trust this Spock unconditionally? Not really, no. Does he trust him here, now, in this moment? Probably.
"Jim, Arrhae," Prime says softly. "I will need your minds."
"No," the Romulan woman shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I am my own person! I have my own mind! I do not want to become her!"
The guards grip her as gently as they can and hold her still. When Prime places his hand on her face and Jim's, seeking the meld points with broken fingers, he pauses at the last moment. "I am sorry," he says softly. "I never wished for any of you to share my burden."
"Enough!" Nero snaps. "Do it! Give her back to me!"
Prime offers them the tiniest quirk of his mouth in solidarity, then the mask slams back down and he intones the words that Jim longs to hear from a different Spock. "My mind to your mind..."
-:-
The bridge of the starship Enterprise is rocked by the largest explosion yet. Spock is thrown from his captain's chair and lands on his knees, hands flying out to catch himself before his face impacts on the side of the navigation console. Screams erupt from his right and he pushes to his feet. One of the systems boards is on fire, the tech manning it engulfed in flames. His EPAS training kicks in and he wraps his body around hers, throwing them both to the floor to smother it. The hiss of a fire extinguisher follows a handful of seconds later and he approves of Hannity's quick thinking even as the compound itself attacks the broken skin on his hands and face, burning with intense cold.
The burned tech is already shaking with reaction, her teeth chattering together. Spock leans over and presses the nearest intercom button. "Medical team to the bridge." The acknowledgement follows seconds later and he releases the toggle.
Out of nowhere, a standard first aid kit is produced and Hannity bats his hands away. "I've got this, Captain. I'm on it."
Spock nods, relinquishing his duty of care for his duty to the ship. "All stations, report!"
A stream of information pours in from all directions, the crew not being trained enough to respond in order of priority. Spock's eidetic memory allows him to remember every word, even those spoken over each other, and he takes barely thirty seconds to process the implications. Coldly furious with the situation, he resumes his seat. His ship is disintegrating around him, his crew still fighting even though it seems Spock can do nothing to protect them. Well, no more. The situation calls for unorthodox methods.
"Captain Spock to Mr. Scott," he says, bringing his mouth closer to the comm, knowing that all systems are becoming unreliable.
Scott here
"Are our phasers fully functional?"
Aye, sir. It's only the shields that are affected, but I'm working on it.
"Channel all auxiliary power to phaser banks," he commands.
Aye, sir
Silently, Spock is grateful for the fact his Chief Engineer doesn't waste time with questions or arguments. Now is not the time for explanations. Riding the newfound momentum, Spock turns back to the wreckage of the bridge. "Lieutenants Chekov and Ho," he calls, "divert phaser control to manual. Technician Skia, take the additional Tactical board and cross-link your sensor feed to my display." There is a chorus of affirmatives from around the room and Spock can sense the shift in attitude. People begin to move with more purpose, their work infused with hope rather than simply duty.
Spock catches the eye of the young Ensign manning the pilot's station and momentarily longs for Uhura or Chekov behind that station. "Helm, full impulse. Heading one eight four mark two."
"Sir, that's a collision course!"
"We can't risk firing on the Narada with the Red Matter inside," Ashe says urgently. "If the containment is breached, the whole system could get sucked into a singularity."
Spock wants to correct her, wants to say that they can't fire upon the Narada with Jim still aboard, but the end result is the same, so he keeps his personal conflicts to himself. "I am aware of that, Lieutenant. However, we must do something to balance the terms of this engagement or we will surely be destroyed."
"What are you proposing?"
"Nero has disabled our shields by treachery," Spock says coldly, "so we must simply make use of an alternative."
Ashe's face pales even as her eyes light up. "You want to get in under his shields! You want to use his own defenses against him!" She turns back to her board with renewed vigour, fingers flying over the screen as she verifies his course heading. "He's going to throw everything at us when he realizes, you do know that, right?"
"I am aware."
"And?"
Spock half-turns to include Chekov in the conversation. "And we must counter every offensive with one of our own."
"You want to shoot his bombs out of the sky?" Chekov asks slowly, as though that couldn't possibly be right.
"I do."
"Keptin," the youngster shakes his head. "It cannot be done."
Spock straightens imperceptibly, his face settling into uncompromising lines. "That is unacceptable."
"The speed of calculation alone," Ashe shakes her head in reluctant agreement, "the computer simply can't adapt in time."
"The firing solutions will be calculated manually," Spock informs her, "by Chekov and myself based on data supplied by Technician Skia. You will implement them and adjust for any course variations."
Ashe blinks, frozen for a split second in disbelief. Then she turns, lays her fingers back on the master Tactical board and exhales deeply. "Ready when you are."
Spock draws the control PADD out of the chair arm and looks over to auxiliary Tactical. "List incoming missile trajectories, Technician Skia, preferably in order of proximity."
"Aye, sir."
Their course is set, so all Spock has to do now is deal with the overwhelming flow of data that engulfs his PADD. He knows from the outset that some cluster bombs will inevitably elude them, but if they can minimize damage to the ship just long enough to slip under the Narada's shields, then they may survive long enough for Jim to disable the Red Matter. As for the rest of the away team's plan, Spock experiences a relapse of trepidation, knowing that it rests on Jim's certainty that Prime has a solution.
-:-
Jim knows that time works differently during a meld, but he can't let go of his sense of urgency. Sheltered within the semi-familiarity of Prime's mind, he is joined by a new presence, a distinctly non-Vulcan presence. The object of Nero's affections figuratively 'stands' before them, the fear rolling off her in waves.
Jim gets her attention. "You must be Arrhae."
"I am." Her physical projection nods. "Spock assured me I would not be harmed."
"I've no reason to want to hurt you," Jim replies openly. "In fact, from what I've heard, you're our best hope of ending this madness."
Arrhae looks over her shoulder as though Nero might be listening in. "He truly is insane. He scares me."
Prime joins them, standing straight and unharmed in this meeting of minds. "You are wise to fear him. This version of Nero is particularly disturbed. He has been troubled in every incarnation I have encountered, but never has he so single-mindedly pursued a path of total illogic."
"Why does he believe this human is in possession of his wife's soul?"
Jim folds his arms. "That's the bit I don't get," he admits.
"When I created the original singularity in the prime universe, the Narada was the first to pass through the temporal rift," Prime explains, settling into lecture mode. "The disturbance was unstable and somehow it fractured him, duplicating him across several parallel universes. By the time I entered, unable to escape, the singularity had stabilized, leaving me whole. As it happens, in the alternate universe this Nero remembers, I knew his wife, Arrhae." Prime turns to the young Romulan with a slight smile. "She was a particularly gifted politician and Nero loved her, very much."
"Wait, how can each incarnation of Nero remember different histories if they started off as the same person?" Jim frowns. "And how can you be sure there's only one of you?"
"Time is not linear," Prime says, eyebrow quirked. "What happens in the present influences the future, but also echoes in the past due to empathic entropy. At its most basic, quantum-mechanical phenomena ensure that causality is preserved without generating a mass-energy imbalance. Also, I have never met myself."
Jim blinks. "Yeah..."
"We have very little time," Prime apologizes. "If we are to save the Earth and neutralize Nero, we must experience perfect synchronicity."
"Let's do this," Jim nods. "I'm in."
Arrhae glances between them and swallows. "I do not know if I am capable of this."
Prime reaches out to her, places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "As I promised, you will not have to do anything alone."
-:-
"Captain, approaching shield perimeter," Helm informs him.
"Acknowledged," Spock manages, but barely. His fingers are flying across the screen of his PADD, solving vectors and integrating them with Chekov's work. Both of them are doing math as the answers present themselves, abandoning problems to work on others, hoping that between them solutions are always reached in time.
Ashe and Skia are almost sweating over the Tactical boards, letting loose a barrage of calculated phaser fire that picks out Nero's cluster bombs before they hit the Enterprise's unprotected hull. Phaser fire still leaks through here and there, being more unpredictable to plot, but the ship is quickly drawing so close that the Narada risks damaging itself with further offensives.
"T minus forty seconds," Helm announces.
Spock reminds himself to breathe and solves another vector. He flicks it to Tactical and three more take its place. He suddenly understands the human predilection for profanity under pressure. If he mouths a few choice words to himself, the bridge is far too busy for anyone to notice.
-:-
Jim opens his eyes to the real world and sways on his feet a little, disorientated by the multiple perspectives overlaying his own. He knows it's essential that he concentrate because Prime is there in his head, urgently dusting him off and pulling him together. The old man might be frail on the outside, but mentally he's a force to be reckoned with. Jim feels like his ears are full of cotton candy, with Nero's excited demands distant and fuzzy.
"Arrhae!" Nero is demanding, then speaking urgently in Romulan.
For some goddamn reason, Jim understands every syllable. He's going to blame Prime.
Arrhae takes a few shaky steps towards the dais and extends her hands in greeting. "Nero, my love, I am here."
Her voice is filled with emotion and it sounds a lot like terror to Jim, but maybe that's just because he can feel the echo of it along the light meld that still links the three of them. Nero obviously interprets it differently, because he's on his feet in an instant, arms around her in a crushing embrace.
"Arrhae, my worthy one," he translates, burying his face in her hair, overcome, "light of my world."
Jim feels a flicker of memory from Prime, pushed along the meld towards Arrhae, a name, a term of endearment. Dutifully, she lifts Nero's face and holds it between her hands. "Sun to my moon," she tells him with a tremulous smile.
"You remember," he whispers, tears gathering in his eyes.
"I do." Prime sends another prompt along the meld and her eyes dart around the room, body twisting to take in Jim, Eli and Prime himself. "My love, what is all this?"
Nero still holds her by the upper arms almost reverently, as though he cannot bear to lose physical contact. "It is your future," he tells her, tone full of pride. "I have worked tirelessly to create it for you."
Jim feels Prime give him a little mental shove and the show is on. "Worked tirelessly?" he taunts, chin raised in contempt. "Murdered, pillaged and destroyed, more like."
"Silence!" Nero hisses, almost shaking with rage. "You do not address my wife! You do not corrupt her with your lies!"
"She's spent months inside my mind," Jim lies. "She knows I'm telling the truth."
Nero turns back to her, his face eager, almost innocent in its pleading. “No, no, my love. Sacrifices had to be made, but I did it all so that we might once again have a universe free of Federation corruption. Free of their domination and tyranny, so that Romulus need not live in fear of the destruction that hangs over us, all the power in the hands of our enemies..." he softens, the fire going out of his eyes to be replaced by something tender. "And you," he breathes. "With you as the beating heart of us, with your wisdom and your grace at our head, we can build a new Romulus. A better Romulus, free of the imperfections of the past."
Arrhae reaches out to him, lays her hands on his shoulders, and Jim can feel what it costs her to stand so close to him. "My dearest, dearest love," she says, her eyes filling with tears. "Our past shapes us in ways we cannot understand. To be free of our past is to lose what we are as a people."
Jim can feel Prime's influence in her turn of phrase, can sense his diplomatic experience shaping her concepts, lending her the words that will entrap their enemy.
"No," Nero shakes his head, eyes pressed tightly closed. "We must purge Federation corruption from our blood! Every last taint must be exorcised before we can reach our true potential!"
"Which is?" Prime asks, giving Nero the opening he needs for his zealotry.
The warlord steps into it with glee, not realizing the light of insanity that takes over his face, contorting and twisting it into something even uglier. "We will be powerful! We will be feared! Romulus will lead and the rest of you will follow like obedient children, never again overstepping your limit, never again to be trusted with Romulan lives. You have been punished, all of you, for the crimes you committed and now," he turns back to Arrhae, his smile ecstatic, "you will have a benevolent leader for a brave, new era of Romulan rule!"
Taking his cue, Jim steps forward. "The Federation won't go down without a fight!"
Nero throws his head back and laughs. "I think you'll find the fight is over, Commander Kirk. You just haven't accepted it."
Jim cups a hand around his ear and leans into it. The distant sound of a firefight trickles into the vaulted room, the hiss and clang of an external assault on the Narada barely audible, but present. "What do you call that, then?"
"Desperation," Nero taunts, "stubborn, human, desperation. But all that will change when the Earth is destroyed. Your people will collapse just as the Vulcans did, just as they all do when they dare to stand against me."
"But why?" Arrhae whispers, her horror unfeigned. "Why must you destroy their world?"
Nero turns back to her, his whole being radiating apology. "You do not understand."
A jolt of urgency radiates down the meld as Prime leans on them.
Jim flicks a glance at the nearby Red Matter and readies himself.
Arrhae takes Nero's hand between her own and angles her head to stare into his eyes. "Make me understand, because this destruction is not like you. You are a peaceful man, a loving father. This is not the Nero I remember."
His gaze softens further. He trails his fingertips through her hair, letting them rest on her cheek. "You always did see only the best in me," he confesses. "But Earth is ruined, Arrhae. Ruined beyond repair, just like everything else touched by the Rift. The planet is teeming with technology from other places, other times. I cannot allow it to shape the course of this future, to corrupt the New Romulan Empire I have built for you."
And there, that is the opening they need.
"If it's the Rift you object to, then by your own reasoning, aren't you tainted?" Jim demands, shaking loose of his guards to take a half step forward before they grab him and force him to his knees. He glares around the room at Nero's lackeys because his arms are pinned. "Aren't all of them?"
"Yes!" Nero growls. "Every single thing touched by the Rift must be purged from this universe before we can have our new beginning!"
"So, what?" Jim frowns, hardly believing it could be this easy. "You're going to suck this planet inside out and then throw yourself on the singularity like some fucked up fairytale classic?"
Prime presses again, prompting Arrhae.
She steps closer to Nero, clutching at his shoulders to turn aside his rage with Jim. "Tell me this isn't true!"
Nero hangs his head, clearly torn. Miserable, he looks back up at her. "By rights I should not even lay a finger on you, my love. The taint lies heavy on me, as does the burden of the lives I have taken. Necessary, yes, but it has cemented my fate. I cannot stay here with you in this new, perfect world. I do not belong here." He takes her hands in both of his. "Like all Rift materials, I exist only to destroy and you must be protected from that."
"No, my love!" Arrhae does a good job of looking gutted by the prospect instead of relieved.
He turns away, cannot bear to look at her apparent grief, and Jim doesn't need the surge across the meld to tell him it's time. He lunges forward, hearing the crumple as Prime nerve-pinches the two guards who were close enough to stand in the way. The muffled gasp and crack that follows coincides with the severance of the meld and Jim hopes like hell the old bastard is still alive.
He makes it to the Red Matter just as the click-whine of a dozen or more distruptors being drawn fills his ears. Slowly, carefully, Jim raises a delivery canister over his head, making sure to angle it so the green light hits the fleck of Red Matter suspended within. "Careful," he warns them. "You might not care if you live or die, but I'm pretty sure she's supposed to live." He nods at Arrhae.
Nero bares his teeth. "Put. That. Down."
"Mmm," Jim tilts his head, apparently considering. "I don't think I will."
"Put it down, or I will kill Spock," Nero threatens, pointing to the place where Prime lies crumpled on the deck, unmoving.
Jim steels himself, drawing on his best poker face. "Looks like you already have. Besides, if you want me to give a shit, you've got the wrong Spock."
Nero's grimace morphs into a knowing smile. "Do not pretend his death would not affect you."
Jim shrugs, his shoulders beginning to ache from holding the canister over his head. "I won't lie and say I'm not developing a soft spot for the meddling old fuck, but I'm not exactly going to lose sleep over it, either."
"Lies!" Nero shouts.
"Why don't you push me, and find out?" Jim snaps back.
"You will not destroy this ship with innocent lives aboard." Nero indicates Jim's battered EPAS flight suit. "Your allegiance gives you away, James Kirk. You are a saver of lives, not one who takes them."
"Dig a little deeper next time," Jim advises, gritting his teeth against the fear in his heart. "Don't you know I'm a murderer?"
With that, he swings the canister at the deck as hard as he can and all hell breaks loose.
(click for 7.4b)
Fandom: Star Trek XI, TOS references.
Characters: Kirk/Spock, ensemble, OCs.
Rating & Warnings: Strong R - slash, language, adult themes.
Spoilers: For the 2009 movie mostly.
Disclaimer: Fanfiction and fanfiction only, folks.
Betas: the_arc5 who has been so much more than an editor during this process. She's shored me up, urged me on, told me the hard truth and buoyed me with her enthusiasm for this project for over a year! She truly is a great friend as well as a literary asset. There aren't enough positive adjectives in the dictionary for this girl.
Author's Note: This is written for stripedpetunia on trek_exchange. So, here it is, the final chapter. Are we excited? I don't know how to feel. I guess a little anxious, wondering if all of you are going to get the answers you want and like the answers you get ;)
the_arc5 has made a delicious fanmix that she posted over at 2ndstory right here, and I all recommend you download and listen because it made me sniffle and smile. Also, the artwork, so awesome.
sleepwalkerfish has collated the 'official' soundtrack and made gorgeous cover art, so as soon as I've given her the little indie tracks that you can't find anywhere I'll link to that so you can listen to the music I heard when I was writing this, if you like. A huge thanks to her for undertaking this project and being so independent about it. I'm just exhausted from the final phase and couldn't have fathomed doing it myself.
previous
Chapter 7.4a (in two parts here for lj fail)
The planet Earth spins idly, a blue-green globe against the inky blackness of space. The sun sets the atmosphere ablaze with light and heat, the radiation muted by distance, transformed into a life-sustaining glow. So it has been for millennia. Now, with a gaping wound struck to her heart, the Earth stands on a precipice, and humanity with her. Ships flit here and there like fragile moths, circling protectively or avariciously in the void, blinking out of existence one by one to form wreckage. Burnt, twisted and cold, the pieces then aggregate through gravity to form abstract little planetoids; a graveyard testimony to the vast underestimation of Nero's planned revenge.
Above this orbit sits the Narada, spitting out deadly green light at any passing target, but reserving a special kind of hell for the Enterprise. Dwarfed by the sheer mass of the Romulan vessel, outgunned and stripped of her defences, the outcome seems inevitable.
Aboard the enemy ship, Uhura steps forward and places a warning hand on Jim's arm. "This is insane, even for you."
"I'm going to need your decryption abilities," he insists. "I don't do Romulan text all that well."
"Jim..."
"Uhura," he counters sharply, blue eyes deadly serious as he looks up from the lock he's picking. "That's not how this is going to work."
"The Lieutenant has a valid point," T'Loren states calmly. "Proceeding unarmed into the most sensitive areas of Nero's ship seems unwise."
"That's why you two aren't going," Jim says without looking up from the circuitry. "I need you to hold this corridor. Tricorder says there's a transporter bay about twenty meters behind us. It's a dead end defensible position and our best hope of getting off this ship in one piece. Eli and I will disable the black hole device, tag the Red Matter for beaming and deal with Nero."
"I fail to see how you will accomplish those goals unassisted," T'Loren offers blankly.
"I'm just," Jim gives two wires a twist, "that goddamn," he touches them to a bridging circuit and the door releases with a hiss, "awesome," he finishes, looking up with a grin. He catches Uhura's anxious expression and gets to his feet, dusting off his knees from force of habit. "This is not up for discussion. Those are my orders, now fall back and secure our exit."
Still looking rebellious, Uhura snaps off a salute. "Aye, Commander."
T'Loren just holds his eye for a second and then nods.
"I'm giving you guys the easy job," he smirks, "so those transporters better be working by the time I get back."
With that, he slaps Eli on the back and ducks carefully through the jimmied maintenance hatch, hands already raised in surrender. When Eli follows, T'Loren is quick to shut the door, carefully disengaging the hotwired circuit so that it cannot be reopened from the other side. She looks up to find Uhura cradling her phaser rifle and staring at the hatch, distress plain on her face.
"Let us hope Kirk's plan is successful," T'Loren offers, checking her own weapon.
"What goddamn plan?" Uhura sighs, running a gloved hand down her face. "Spock is going to kill me," she adds.
-:-
Jim was feeling good about his plan right up until now. Well, if not good about it, then at the very least reasonably confident they'd survive. Then the ridiculous number of Romulan guards have to throw them to their knees in front of a raised dais and Eli gives him a look as if to say, 'this was not your best idea.' When a booted foot emerges from the shadows engulfing the platform and turns the throne to reveal Nero in all his manic, threatening glory...yeah, Jim is kind of forced to agree with Eli's assessment of the situation.
"Hello, Jim," Nero says conversationally. "We haven't met before, but I'm Nero."
"Uh, yeah." He looks to Eli for support and gets nothing. "I know."
The Romulan licks his teeth and smiles, relaxing against the command chair's tall frame. "Of course you do. Never forget the man who murders your family, that's my motto." He ignores Jim's flinch and waves a hand airily. "We have that in common, you and I."
"What?" Jim narrows his eyes in mock-confusion. "You want to bond over our shitty childhoods, is that it?"
"Well..." Nero pauses to consider this idea, "it does interfere with my plan to kill you slowly and by increments."
"Yeah, I might have to hold that one against you."
"Understandable," Nero nods, his gaze flicking to Jim's companion. "Who is this you've brought with you? One of Spock's loyal followers? A friend?"
Eli lifts his chin slightly. "A scientist," he answers. "A colleague."
"A Vulcan," Nero sneers, scars bunching along his cheek and jaw as he does so. He turns back to Jim. "What terrible company you keep, James Kirk. I may have to find you guilty by association."
"Guilty of what, exactly?" Jim asks, licking his lips.
"Genocide."
"Oh, that," Jim rolls his eyes. "Still rambling on about that, are you? I've got news for you: that happened in another universe. You might not have noticed, but Romulus still very much exists in this universe, so it doesn't make a lot of sense to go around punishing innocent people for something that never happened."
"It happened!" Nero roars. "I saw it happen! Don't tell me it didn't happen!" Spittle flies from his lips as he leans forward in the chair, teeth bared. "In this reality, in mine, the same chain of events will lead to the same result. And you," his eyes narrow, "you stand before me as a willing associate of the one who lets it come to pass."
Jim spreads his hands placatingly and starts to smile. "Seriously, this is where you get confused."
"Silence!" Nero's shout echoes off the metal walls, filling the dank hall with refracted syllables. "I did not bring you here to debate history or dictate to me the course of the future. You have something of mine, something that doesn't belong to you, and I will have it back."
Jim shifts his eyes to Nero's outstretched, grasping hand and then back up to his slitted eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
Momentary fury washes over his scarred face, but then Nero throws his head back and laughs. He laughs long and hard, teeth bared in a grimace as he shakes his head at the floor. "Even now, my enemy taunts me." He snorts and then his head snaps up, eyes alighting on the closest guard. "Change of plan; bring me Spock as well."
The guard nods and runs for the closest exit. Jim takes the opportunity to study the interior of the ship. What he sees only confirms the information Prime dumped into his brain during the mindmeld. For all Nero's obsession with future tech, the Narada is almost archaic, even by twenty-third century standards. None of the guards carry comm units, and there is no evidence of technological advancement beyond the level one would expect concurrent with Nero's native time period. Starfleet, F-Sec and EPAS have latched onto every last scrap of future tech that fell through the rifts. Small advancements, most of them, but there had been no hesitation within the Federation about implementing them. When faced with a clear and present threat, it makes sense to use every weapon in your arsenal.
Nero hasn't.
Jim allows himself an inward smile. Spock's counterpart is correct; they have leverage.
The relief lasts only until the moment Prime himself is dragged into the room. The guards also escort a woman, but Jim hardly notices. A deep abiding sadness washes over him at the sight of his former mentor and ally. Prime is bent and broken, his lean Vulcan frame wasted by starvation to almost skeletal proportions. It makes his angular face seem incongruously large and hides his eyes in shadow. His hair, once salt and pepper grey, is now completely white with trauma. Jim knows in his gut that even if Prime survives this, the ordeal will have taken years off his life.
Still, the tough old bastard manages a nod in his direction. "Jim," he rasps. "A pleasure to see you again, old friend. I see you got my message."
He takes a firm hold on his emotions and shrugs. "You're fucking cryptic, you know that?"
"My apologies."
"Also, that headache was unbelievable..."
"Speak again without my permission and I will kill him," Nero says, directing the comment to Jim. "He lives now only because I wish it so."
Jim raises a hand for permission to speak. "And why is that? What do you want with him?"
"First, he will give me back my wife. Then, he will be allowed to watch you die."
Jim glances at the young Romulan woman flanked by guards and more of the mindmeld puzzle pieces click into place. He knows her face, her name, even though he's never seen her before. "Forgive me, but that doesn't sound like much of an incentive."
Nero's hands flex around the arms of his chair and Jim can tell he's holding back from violence by the narrowest of margins. "Being the carrier of my wife's katra, I cannot harm you or risk harming her," he whispers furiously. "The same will not be true when this is done."
"Promises, promises," Jim sighs, knowing he's skirting the edge of a very dangerous precipice, but filled with the knowledge that Nero must invest as much emotion as possible in this situation for Prime's plan to work.
"You will do it now," Nero says menacingly to Prime. "Or I destroy the Earth."
Involuntarily, Prime, Kirk and Eli all glance at the globulus sphere of Red Matter that sits imprisoned behind the containment field in the center of the room. Beside it, neatly stacked in cages, are the delivery devices. Within each sits a scarlet mote suspended in an inert gel, ready to suck the Earth inside out at Nero's whim.
Jim steels himself for the performance of his life, because if Nero doesn't buy this, they're all dead. A guard lifts him to his feet by the scruff of his neck, throwing him towards Prime and the Romulan woman so hard that he stumbles. Drawing closer to her, Jim can see the fear in her eyes, the way her hands flutter at her sides like the wings of a trapped bird.
"Don't worry," he tells her, managing a fairly convincing smile. "It's going to be okay."
"This is not the way to conduct a fal-tor-pan," Prime grates out, his sweeping brows drawn inwards into a frown. "It takes days of meditation."
"And I have given you weeks with her, even though the thought of it made me sick." Nero swallows heavily. "You have had ample time to prepare her mind, Spock, and I will not delay my hour of victory a moment longer."
Spock hangs his head, apparently resolved to the situation. On the surface he looks broken in more ways than one, but as Jim draws close enough to touch, he can see the fierce determination in those dark eyes. For an instant a more familiar, younger face is overlaid and he feels a moment's kinship with this Spock. No matter that he meddled in Jim's life for his own ends, that interference was once the only point of joy in an otherwise bleak existence. Does Jim trust this Spock unconditionally? Not really, no. Does he trust him here, now, in this moment? Probably.
"Jim, Arrhae," Prime says softly. "I will need your minds."
"No," the Romulan woman shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes. "I am my own person! I have my own mind! I do not want to become her!"
The guards grip her as gently as they can and hold her still. When Prime places his hand on her face and Jim's, seeking the meld points with broken fingers, he pauses at the last moment. "I am sorry," he says softly. "I never wished for any of you to share my burden."
"Enough!" Nero snaps. "Do it! Give her back to me!"
Prime offers them the tiniest quirk of his mouth in solidarity, then the mask slams back down and he intones the words that Jim longs to hear from a different Spock. "My mind to your mind..."
-:-
The bridge of the starship Enterprise is rocked by the largest explosion yet. Spock is thrown from his captain's chair and lands on his knees, hands flying out to catch himself before his face impacts on the side of the navigation console. Screams erupt from his right and he pushes to his feet. One of the systems boards is on fire, the tech manning it engulfed in flames. His EPAS training kicks in and he wraps his body around hers, throwing them both to the floor to smother it. The hiss of a fire extinguisher follows a handful of seconds later and he approves of Hannity's quick thinking even as the compound itself attacks the broken skin on his hands and face, burning with intense cold.
The burned tech is already shaking with reaction, her teeth chattering together. Spock leans over and presses the nearest intercom button. "Medical team to the bridge." The acknowledgement follows seconds later and he releases the toggle.
Out of nowhere, a standard first aid kit is produced and Hannity bats his hands away. "I've got this, Captain. I'm on it."
Spock nods, relinquishing his duty of care for his duty to the ship. "All stations, report!"
A stream of information pours in from all directions, the crew not being trained enough to respond in order of priority. Spock's eidetic memory allows him to remember every word, even those spoken over each other, and he takes barely thirty seconds to process the implications. Coldly furious with the situation, he resumes his seat. His ship is disintegrating around him, his crew still fighting even though it seems Spock can do nothing to protect them. Well, no more. The situation calls for unorthodox methods.
"Captain Spock to Mr. Scott," he says, bringing his mouth closer to the comm, knowing that all systems are becoming unreliable.
Scott here
"Are our phasers fully functional?"
Aye, sir. It's only the shields that are affected, but I'm working on it.
"Channel all auxiliary power to phaser banks," he commands.
Aye, sir
Silently, Spock is grateful for the fact his Chief Engineer doesn't waste time with questions or arguments. Now is not the time for explanations. Riding the newfound momentum, Spock turns back to the wreckage of the bridge. "Lieutenants Chekov and Ho," he calls, "divert phaser control to manual. Technician Skia, take the additional Tactical board and cross-link your sensor feed to my display." There is a chorus of affirmatives from around the room and Spock can sense the shift in attitude. People begin to move with more purpose, their work infused with hope rather than simply duty.
Spock catches the eye of the young Ensign manning the pilot's station and momentarily longs for Uhura or Chekov behind that station. "Helm, full impulse. Heading one eight four mark two."
"Sir, that's a collision course!"
"We can't risk firing on the Narada with the Red Matter inside," Ashe says urgently. "If the containment is breached, the whole system could get sucked into a singularity."
Spock wants to correct her, wants to say that they can't fire upon the Narada with Jim still aboard, but the end result is the same, so he keeps his personal conflicts to himself. "I am aware of that, Lieutenant. However, we must do something to balance the terms of this engagement or we will surely be destroyed."
"What are you proposing?"
"Nero has disabled our shields by treachery," Spock says coldly, "so we must simply make use of an alternative."
Ashe's face pales even as her eyes light up. "You want to get in under his shields! You want to use his own defenses against him!" She turns back to her board with renewed vigour, fingers flying over the screen as she verifies his course heading. "He's going to throw everything at us when he realizes, you do know that, right?"
"I am aware."
"And?"
Spock half-turns to include Chekov in the conversation. "And we must counter every offensive with one of our own."
"You want to shoot his bombs out of the sky?" Chekov asks slowly, as though that couldn't possibly be right.
"I do."
"Keptin," the youngster shakes his head. "It cannot be done."
Spock straightens imperceptibly, his face settling into uncompromising lines. "That is unacceptable."
"The speed of calculation alone," Ashe shakes her head in reluctant agreement, "the computer simply can't adapt in time."
"The firing solutions will be calculated manually," Spock informs her, "by Chekov and myself based on data supplied by Technician Skia. You will implement them and adjust for any course variations."
Ashe blinks, frozen for a split second in disbelief. Then she turns, lays her fingers back on the master Tactical board and exhales deeply. "Ready when you are."
Spock draws the control PADD out of the chair arm and looks over to auxiliary Tactical. "List incoming missile trajectories, Technician Skia, preferably in order of proximity."
"Aye, sir."
Their course is set, so all Spock has to do now is deal with the overwhelming flow of data that engulfs his PADD. He knows from the outset that some cluster bombs will inevitably elude them, but if they can minimize damage to the ship just long enough to slip under the Narada's shields, then they may survive long enough for Jim to disable the Red Matter. As for the rest of the away team's plan, Spock experiences a relapse of trepidation, knowing that it rests on Jim's certainty that Prime has a solution.
-:-
Jim knows that time works differently during a meld, but he can't let go of his sense of urgency. Sheltered within the semi-familiarity of Prime's mind, he is joined by a new presence, a distinctly non-Vulcan presence. The object of Nero's affections figuratively 'stands' before them, the fear rolling off her in waves.
Jim gets her attention. "You must be Arrhae."
"I am." Her physical projection nods. "Spock assured me I would not be harmed."
"I've no reason to want to hurt you," Jim replies openly. "In fact, from what I've heard, you're our best hope of ending this madness."
Arrhae looks over her shoulder as though Nero might be listening in. "He truly is insane. He scares me."
Prime joins them, standing straight and unharmed in this meeting of minds. "You are wise to fear him. This version of Nero is particularly disturbed. He has been troubled in every incarnation I have encountered, but never has he so single-mindedly pursued a path of total illogic."
"Why does he believe this human is in possession of his wife's soul?"
Jim folds his arms. "That's the bit I don't get," he admits.
"When I created the original singularity in the prime universe, the Narada was the first to pass through the temporal rift," Prime explains, settling into lecture mode. "The disturbance was unstable and somehow it fractured him, duplicating him across several parallel universes. By the time I entered, unable to escape, the singularity had stabilized, leaving me whole. As it happens, in the alternate universe this Nero remembers, I knew his wife, Arrhae." Prime turns to the young Romulan with a slight smile. "She was a particularly gifted politician and Nero loved her, very much."
"Wait, how can each incarnation of Nero remember different histories if they started off as the same person?" Jim frowns. "And how can you be sure there's only one of you?"
"Time is not linear," Prime says, eyebrow quirked. "What happens in the present influences the future, but also echoes in the past due to empathic entropy. At its most basic, quantum-mechanical phenomena ensure that causality is preserved without generating a mass-energy imbalance. Also, I have never met myself."
Jim blinks. "Yeah..."
"We have very little time," Prime apologizes. "If we are to save the Earth and neutralize Nero, we must experience perfect synchronicity."
"Let's do this," Jim nods. "I'm in."
Arrhae glances between them and swallows. "I do not know if I am capable of this."
Prime reaches out to her, places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "As I promised, you will not have to do anything alone."
-:-
"Captain, approaching shield perimeter," Helm informs him.
"Acknowledged," Spock manages, but barely. His fingers are flying across the screen of his PADD, solving vectors and integrating them with Chekov's work. Both of them are doing math as the answers present themselves, abandoning problems to work on others, hoping that between them solutions are always reached in time.
Ashe and Skia are almost sweating over the Tactical boards, letting loose a barrage of calculated phaser fire that picks out Nero's cluster bombs before they hit the Enterprise's unprotected hull. Phaser fire still leaks through here and there, being more unpredictable to plot, but the ship is quickly drawing so close that the Narada risks damaging itself with further offensives.
"T minus forty seconds," Helm announces.
Spock reminds himself to breathe and solves another vector. He flicks it to Tactical and three more take its place. He suddenly understands the human predilection for profanity under pressure. If he mouths a few choice words to himself, the bridge is far too busy for anyone to notice.
-:-
Jim opens his eyes to the real world and sways on his feet a little, disorientated by the multiple perspectives overlaying his own. He knows it's essential that he concentrate because Prime is there in his head, urgently dusting him off and pulling him together. The old man might be frail on the outside, but mentally he's a force to be reckoned with. Jim feels like his ears are full of cotton candy, with Nero's excited demands distant and fuzzy.
"Arrhae!" Nero is demanding, then speaking urgently in Romulan.
For some goddamn reason, Jim understands every syllable. He's going to blame Prime.
Arrhae takes a few shaky steps towards the dais and extends her hands in greeting. "Nero, my love, I am here."
Her voice is filled with emotion and it sounds a lot like terror to Jim, but maybe that's just because he can feel the echo of it along the light meld that still links the three of them. Nero obviously interprets it differently, because he's on his feet in an instant, arms around her in a crushing embrace.
"Arrhae, my worthy one," he translates, burying his face in her hair, overcome, "light of my world."
Jim feels a flicker of memory from Prime, pushed along the meld towards Arrhae, a name, a term of endearment. Dutifully, she lifts Nero's face and holds it between her hands. "Sun to my moon," she tells him with a tremulous smile.
"You remember," he whispers, tears gathering in his eyes.
"I do." Prime sends another prompt along the meld and her eyes dart around the room, body twisting to take in Jim, Eli and Prime himself. "My love, what is all this?"
Nero still holds her by the upper arms almost reverently, as though he cannot bear to lose physical contact. "It is your future," he tells her, tone full of pride. "I have worked tirelessly to create it for you."
Jim feels Prime give him a little mental shove and the show is on. "Worked tirelessly?" he taunts, chin raised in contempt. "Murdered, pillaged and destroyed, more like."
"Silence!" Nero hisses, almost shaking with rage. "You do not address my wife! You do not corrupt her with your lies!"
"She's spent months inside my mind," Jim lies. "She knows I'm telling the truth."
Nero turns back to her, his face eager, almost innocent in its pleading. “No, no, my love. Sacrifices had to be made, but I did it all so that we might once again have a universe free of Federation corruption. Free of their domination and tyranny, so that Romulus need not live in fear of the destruction that hangs over us, all the power in the hands of our enemies..." he softens, the fire going out of his eyes to be replaced by something tender. "And you," he breathes. "With you as the beating heart of us, with your wisdom and your grace at our head, we can build a new Romulus. A better Romulus, free of the imperfections of the past."
Arrhae reaches out to him, lays her hands on his shoulders, and Jim can feel what it costs her to stand so close to him. "My dearest, dearest love," she says, her eyes filling with tears. "Our past shapes us in ways we cannot understand. To be free of our past is to lose what we are as a people."
Jim can feel Prime's influence in her turn of phrase, can sense his diplomatic experience shaping her concepts, lending her the words that will entrap their enemy.
"No," Nero shakes his head, eyes pressed tightly closed. "We must purge Federation corruption from our blood! Every last taint must be exorcised before we can reach our true potential!"
"Which is?" Prime asks, giving Nero the opening he needs for his zealotry.
The warlord steps into it with glee, not realizing the light of insanity that takes over his face, contorting and twisting it into something even uglier. "We will be powerful! We will be feared! Romulus will lead and the rest of you will follow like obedient children, never again overstepping your limit, never again to be trusted with Romulan lives. You have been punished, all of you, for the crimes you committed and now," he turns back to Arrhae, his smile ecstatic, "you will have a benevolent leader for a brave, new era of Romulan rule!"
Taking his cue, Jim steps forward. "The Federation won't go down without a fight!"
Nero throws his head back and laughs. "I think you'll find the fight is over, Commander Kirk. You just haven't accepted it."
Jim cups a hand around his ear and leans into it. The distant sound of a firefight trickles into the vaulted room, the hiss and clang of an external assault on the Narada barely audible, but present. "What do you call that, then?"
"Desperation," Nero taunts, "stubborn, human, desperation. But all that will change when the Earth is destroyed. Your people will collapse just as the Vulcans did, just as they all do when they dare to stand against me."
"But why?" Arrhae whispers, her horror unfeigned. "Why must you destroy their world?"
Nero turns back to her, his whole being radiating apology. "You do not understand."
A jolt of urgency radiates down the meld as Prime leans on them.
Jim flicks a glance at the nearby Red Matter and readies himself.
Arrhae takes Nero's hand between her own and angles her head to stare into his eyes. "Make me understand, because this destruction is not like you. You are a peaceful man, a loving father. This is not the Nero I remember."
His gaze softens further. He trails his fingertips through her hair, letting them rest on her cheek. "You always did see only the best in me," he confesses. "But Earth is ruined, Arrhae. Ruined beyond repair, just like everything else touched by the Rift. The planet is teeming with technology from other places, other times. I cannot allow it to shape the course of this future, to corrupt the New Romulan Empire I have built for you."
And there, that is the opening they need.
"If it's the Rift you object to, then by your own reasoning, aren't you tainted?" Jim demands, shaking loose of his guards to take a half step forward before they grab him and force him to his knees. He glares around the room at Nero's lackeys because his arms are pinned. "Aren't all of them?"
"Yes!" Nero growls. "Every single thing touched by the Rift must be purged from this universe before we can have our new beginning!"
"So, what?" Jim frowns, hardly believing it could be this easy. "You're going to suck this planet inside out and then throw yourself on the singularity like some fucked up fairytale classic?"
Prime presses again, prompting Arrhae.
She steps closer to Nero, clutching at his shoulders to turn aside his rage with Jim. "Tell me this isn't true!"
Nero hangs his head, clearly torn. Miserable, he looks back up at her. "By rights I should not even lay a finger on you, my love. The taint lies heavy on me, as does the burden of the lives I have taken. Necessary, yes, but it has cemented my fate. I cannot stay here with you in this new, perfect world. I do not belong here." He takes her hands in both of his. "Like all Rift materials, I exist only to destroy and you must be protected from that."
"No, my love!" Arrhae does a good job of looking gutted by the prospect instead of relieved.
He turns away, cannot bear to look at her apparent grief, and Jim doesn't need the surge across the meld to tell him it's time. He lunges forward, hearing the crumple as Prime nerve-pinches the two guards who were close enough to stand in the way. The muffled gasp and crack that follows coincides with the severance of the meld and Jim hopes like hell the old bastard is still alive.
He makes it to the Red Matter just as the click-whine of a dozen or more distruptors being drawn fills his ears. Slowly, carefully, Jim raises a delivery canister over his head, making sure to angle it so the green light hits the fleck of Red Matter suspended within. "Careful," he warns them. "You might not care if you live or die, but I'm pretty sure she's supposed to live." He nods at Arrhae.
Nero bares his teeth. "Put. That. Down."
"Mmm," Jim tilts his head, apparently considering. "I don't think I will."
"Put it down, or I will kill Spock," Nero threatens, pointing to the place where Prime lies crumpled on the deck, unmoving.
Jim steels himself, drawing on his best poker face. "Looks like you already have. Besides, if you want me to give a shit, you've got the wrong Spock."
Nero's grimace morphs into a knowing smile. "Do not pretend his death would not affect you."
Jim shrugs, his shoulders beginning to ache from holding the canister over his head. "I won't lie and say I'm not developing a soft spot for the meddling old fuck, but I'm not exactly going to lose sleep over it, either."
"Lies!" Nero shouts.
"Why don't you push me, and find out?" Jim snaps back.
"You will not destroy this ship with innocent lives aboard." Nero indicates Jim's battered EPAS flight suit. "Your allegiance gives you away, James Kirk. You are a saver of lives, not one who takes them."
"Dig a little deeper next time," Jim advises, gritting his teeth against the fear in his heart. "Don't you know I'm a murderer?"
With that, he swings the canister at the deck as hard as he can and all hell breaks loose.
(click for 7.4b)