FIC: Divergence 12/?
Title: Divergence
Rating: Mature ( graphic violence, language, adult themes)
Pairing: pre-slash nu!K/S, kid!K/S
Cast: ensemble, plus Pike, W. Kirk, A. Grayson, and nu!versions of TOS random crew
Keywords: long multi-part fic, kid!Spock, kid!Kirk, time travel, badass!crew, epic friendship
Notes: as a fill for this plotty PROMPT from the kink meme.... ORIGINALLY written on 4 August 2009 --- just remember when you're reading this that I am not into character death, but I am not adverse to misdirection, angst and H/C --- other than that, enjoy :)
SUMMARY: the ploy to lure the Narada has worked too well and now the Enterprise is handling an angry Nero indiscriminately attacking civilian vessels while Kirk and McCoy have still yet to join the crew
BETA status - jademac2442 -- who has been a gem and gave me plenty of encouragement to do an excellent rewrite of this part
back to: part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven
Location unknown: the Narada, year 2246
Nero approached him in a few broad strides, his expression thunderous. Spock felt a violent tremor seize his spine, every primordial instinct screaming for him to run. Beside him, James made a startled sound, jumping back only to collide with their guard. Wordless with rage, the Romulan gripped Spock roughly by the neck, pulling him over to one of the computer terminals. Vaguely, over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his own choked breaths, he heard James shout his name.
‘Look at this, Spock.’ The Romulan ordered, ‘Look.’
Dimly, Spock registered the symbols and diagrams through the pain of the Romulan’s choke hold on his neck: astrometric telemetry… gravimetric vibrations from sub-space interference… Roughly he was pulled back and dragged to the viewscreen mounted on the wall. Nero’s blunt fingers released his throat to twist viciously in his hair. ‘Look!’ The Romulan yelled, ‘LOOK AT IT!’
Stellar cartography… encoding…? What am I supposed to see!
Spock felt a sharp pain along the roots of his hair as his head was sharply twisted around to face Nero. He noted the stench - twenty-three different combinations of sweat, chemicals, and blood - the wild darkness of Nero’s eyes and the contemptuous curl to his lips.
‘What is this trickery? ANSWER ME!’
Spock flinched, unable to help it. Fear blistered cold and hot along his limbs, making him tremble as he was shaken hard.
‘ANSWER ME!’
In the background he heard James call his name again, louder, more urgent, and then a guttural snap that he recognized to be the Romulan verb for “silence.” When the other boy’s voice fell away, he knew that the guard must have beaten him into silence and felt a brief surge of protectiveness and anger. Spock knew that nothing could stop James otherwise; the boy’s will was so strong and so insistent that it bordered on foolishness. Spock met Nero’s eyes and felt everything inside of him shiver.
‘I don’t know what you’re speaking of.’ He replied, as calmly as he could though he detected a faint tremor in his vowels.
Nero searched his face, those wild eyes burning into his before the Romulan’s expression darkened, twisting his features, drawing his lips back to show his teeth. Abruptly the Romulan slammed Spock’s head several times against a nearby terminal and flung him across the room with a wordless shriek of rage. His body hit the deck plating hard, his vision blurring, his mouth soundlessly gasping at the shock of it, his mind still reeling to process everything. The pain registered a moment later, stealing the air from Spock’s lungs.
Gritting his teeth, Spock tried to get up, his fingers digging into the floor desperately to crawl away as he heard the Romulan storming across the bridge towards him, and almost cried out when it was clear that it was too late, and Nero was there.
There was a hard kick into his abdomen, making Spock’s entire body heave in shock and agony. Another kick followed swiftly with a Romulan curse, and then another - and then more till he was halfway across the bridge floor, on his hands and knees, coughing and moaning and senseless with desperation. He could taste his own blood, Spock realized dimly as he dry-retched, clutching at his guts; the coppery taste was repulsive and sent a sick feeling straight to his stomach, making his digestive system churn violently.
Spock curled into a fetal position, his hands, his knees, his skull, all screaming from the sudden jarring impacts. Stop it, stop it!!! The young Vulcan closed his mouth and clenched his teeth tightly when he realized at the moans and piteous cries were from him. No! He would not give his captors the satisfaction of his suffering! He would be like James, he would face it without fear or complaint, and he would keep his composure! He was the older one, the more mature one, and James was watching him!
Abruptly, the blows stopped.
There is no pain… Spock swallowed down his sob of relief and curled his fists against the cold metal floor. Control… there is no pain!
Overhead, through a fog he heard Nero breathing heavily, ordering his crew to set a course for Kaeferia. A part of him recognized that as the Tau Ceti system, almost exactly midway between Vulcan and Earth, and the knowledge that he and James were so close and yet so far away from home rendered him with an almost physical sensation of anguish. Spock closed his eyes and drifted into a semi-conscious state, unable to find the energy to continue. The entire world felt wrong, off balance, slippery. Swallowing down an unacceptable noise, he felt rage at the bottom of his guts, burning hotter than the fear and pain running through his system unchecked. A savage part of himself, a part that he had feared and loathed and hidden, rose up and snarled at the Romulan, promised vengeance and destruction. This part yearned to stand up and see what had happened to James, to fight back.
But it was illogical to fight back - a human boy and a young Vulcan against a dozen fully grown Romulans? No, it would be certain death, and Spock wasn’t dying here. This would pass, he rationalized sluggishly through the fog over his mind, just like all the other times, he would hold on and he would live.
Focus, Spock, think logically, think of the future, think of Mother, think of James…
Those things which the Romulan had said, the possible future he had revealed meant to hurt and discourage Spock, came back to the young Vulcan through the pain, giving him a source of unexpected comfort. Though everything in his training told him that it was illogical, some other part of him which he had never been able to control wrestled with his inner self.
This will pass, that hopeful part of him whispered against all logic and reality. Spock listened to it, and felt it grow inside of him like a burst of light. Yes, he gritted his teeth, hold on; in their cell, he’ll listen to James passionately declare that it was unfair, use invectives and colorful language that Spock had never heard before in his life; James will say that he’d rather die and they’ll debate about it, him being the voice of reason while James despised him for a time, and then that would pass too. And then-
A booted foot prodded him viciously in the guts, sending a burst of pain through him and ripping an unbidden whimper from his throat. Spock let out a long shuddering gasp and allowed the darkness to claim him.
--------
En route to Earth: USS Enterprise, year 2246
The yellow alert blinked insistently down the wall, adding a faint lick of amber glow along every gleaming surface. Thankfully the warning alarm and the cold computerized voice had all been bypassed at the Captain’s orders; it would have frankly driven Uhura insane. At the corner of her eye, the First Officer glanced down at the command chair before shifting comfortably as if he didn’t feel right in the chair, as if - Uhura’s eyes cut back to her station, her grip tightening on the edge of the console - as if he was very aware that it was Jim Kirk’s chair.
‘Lieutenant, any sign of the Captain and Doctor McCoy?’ Spock asked, just as he had ten minutes before, a distinct frown on his face.
‘Nothing yet, sir,’ Hawkins said apologetically, spinning around from his console to face the Vulcan.
Nyota Uhura closed her eyes briefly in frustration. This enforced communication silence was testing her patience and she honestly didn’t know how Spock could just sit there, Vulcan control or not. She knew it was to protect their cloaked presence from being detected but without it, they could have hailed the shuttle, advised them of their coordinates and had Kirk and McCoy back onboard within minutes rather than all this hide-and-seek. In her left ear, the screech of the sub-space oscillation continued to grind painfully through her earpiece. Uhura twirled her fingers over the console, turning down the volume. Noticing her scowl, Lieutenant Hawkins gave her a reassuring smile which she returned with one of her own. In the background, she heard Spock ask the young man manning the science station if the sensors had picked up any sign of the Captain’s shuttle.
Moving her dial along the frequency bands, Uhura switched to a lower bandwidth and listened to the beeps and chirps of raw news-stream transmissions and then up higher to frequencies used for communications. There was some general sub-space chatter: the commercial cruise liner Paris IV would be departing soon for Deep Space Three, while a Barolian freighter was preparing to head out to the Romeo and Sierra Outposts along the Neutral Zone, and there was a cargo vessel that was late in arriving at nearby Andorra. Suddenly, she heard it:
‘Sir! Distress signal coming in from nearby Tau Ceti!’ Uhura said alarmed, gesturing quickly for Hawkins to switch frequencies. ‘It’s a commercial passenger liner! Ship advises an unknown alien vessel has just dropped out of warp and requests immediate assistance!’
Next to her, Hawkins’ face tensed as his hands moving swiftly across the secondary communications station, ‘Commander, I’m getting wide-band distress signals from at least three other sources sir, all within range of Tau Ceti.’
‘Confirmed, sir, long range sensors just picked up a ship - it’s….’ the young man at the Science Station looked up, paling dramatically. ‘It looks like the- the Narada, sir.’
A bite! Uhura secretly fisted her hand and punched the air in triumph. And only from their initial trials too!
The thrill of victory was short-lived. She cursed under her breath - talk about bad timing! Their bait had worked too well it seemed and now they had two senior officers out there without contact and a hostile enemy vessel actively hunting them. Uhura spun around to confront Spock, unable to keep quiet. ‘We have to warn the shuttle, Spock - we need to get Starfleet here! There’s not a-’
‘Negative, Lieutenant.’ Spock said flatly, giving her a stern look. Uhura felt a flush of anger and embarrassment at the disapproval he managed to convey with a single glance.
‘All stations: Red Alert.’ Spock announced, in his typical patrician manner, calm and composed in a way Uhura envied right this moment. The klaxons began to shriek, breaking the silence on the bridge and raising the hairs on the back of her arms and neck. ‘Helmsman, all deliberate speed to Tau Ceti. Maintain cloak and communication silence.’
Frustrated, Uhura took a deep breath and swallowed down the protests that she’d been about to make. Now was not the time to get into a fight about how much she hated Spock’s dismissive attitude. Uhura clenched her teeth; she’ll just have to trust Spock to do the right thing. Yes, she thought, be calm and professional, just another day on the job. Uhura placed her fingers upon her earpiece, pressing it in so that it drowned out everything else - the terminals beeping, the klaxons, and a cool computerized voice advising her that this was not a drill. She felt her heart skip as she listened to the short frantic message of the passenger ship crew. Heavy damages - deflector shields failing - emergency evacuation protocols initiated. Another ship, a freighter vessel, reported system failure imminent with all hands abandoning ship. She wondered if the escape pods and shuttles will be able to make it or if Nero would shoot them down too.
‘We’re within view, Commander Spock.’
‘On screen.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the passenger ship explode, the flames quickly snuffed by the vacuum of space. Silhouetted against the nearby star, the Narada gleamed darkly; the huge claw-like spires wrapped around its form was insect-like, reminding Uhura of the exoskeleton for an exotic, dangerous bug. This was it - the moment - the confrontation the entire ship had been waiting for. Suddenly, Spock’s relief spun around from the science station, eyes wide and his mouth gaping.
‘SIR, the- the shuttle! Captain and Doctor McCoy!!’ He stammered in a broken shout, ‘They just dropped out of cloak! In front of the Narada!’
Uhura’s eyes cut to the viewscreen and felt her breath hitch abruptly, almost choking her. No, he wasn’t! She watched in horror as the shuttle bearing Kirk and McCoy swiftly did a 180 turn on its head and streaked towards the Romulan vessel on a collision run, its deflectors crackling as it expertly skidded along several torpedoes meant for another civilian cruiser, sending them off course to explode harmlessly and yet not allowing a direct hit.
The explosion came suddenly, flaring across the screen and taking out a section of the Romulan vessel’s exotic hull construct.
‘Helm, full reverse! Maintain cloak integrity!’
‘Aye-aye, sir! Full reverse!’
Though it was thousands of miles away, Uhura felt the shuttle explosion breathe across her cheeks, hot and painful. Every hair on the back of her neck stood up and she shuddered involuntarily, knees tensed and heels digging into the deck, all her leg muscles ready to leap at the slightest provocation. The flames disappeared quickly, choked on space and darkness.
A needle-like bluster of white streaked out from the Narada, which Uhura recognized as atmosphere and insulation being vented into the chilling darkness of space, freezing instantly into ice powder, before this abruptly stopped as hull integrity shields snapped into place.
Someone gasped in the ensuing silence.
Uhura took a ragged breath, a small unwanted sob escaping her lips in shock at what she’d just seen.
James T. Kirk, farm boy from Nowhere, Iowa, her Captain for two years, just gone!
And the Doctor was with him … this can’t be happening… what the fuck had he been thinking!
He was being his father’s son, he was being a hero - some voice inside of her said, surprising her with its reverence and bitterness.
Her console beeped insistently at her. Though it physically hurt to look from the viewscreen, Uhura ripped herself away and stiffly spun to face her terminal. ‘Sir, we’re still getting a distress signal from the Federation cruiser Australis-’ She took a shaky breath but continued, her training kicking in as her mind seemed to go blank, everything becoming hazy. She distantly noted that she had broken a nail gripping the side of her console and somewhere in the back of her mind, the broken nail was funny. ‘They advise that warp core breach is imminent…’ Her voice wavered, thin, toneless and faraway, ‘… And request assistance to contain damage. Should we reply…Captain?’
Out of the corner of her eyes, Spock was sitting on the edge of the command chair, looking like any moment he was going to burst onto his feet and charge forward. In his tight face, she saw shock, confusion, and an almost indescribable expression hidden in the way his lips were poised, as if he were mid-sentence or gasp or cry - overwhelmed, she realized with a shock, Spock was literally speechless. Slowly he straightened in the command chair, his expression softening for a second before it morphed into his usual blank visage. No, it was not his usual calmness; his face was a mask of blistering stoicism and almost…savage.
Finally he spoke:
‘What is the status of the enemy vessel?’
‘Their shields are up, sir, weapons system remains online but they’re no longer locking torpedoes-‘
‘They’re jumping into warp, sir!’
On screen, the Narada hovered for a moment over the wreckage before disappearing.
‘Destination?’ Spock snapped.
‘Based on their trajectory…’ Chekov’s hands few across his console almost too fast for her eyes to follow, sheen of sweat across his brow, ‘…The vessel is headed for Starbase 39 Sierra, sir, on a direct course that will cross the Neutral Zone…’ The Ensign paused, and glanced towards the command chair uncomfortably, ‘…Captain.’
‘Should I lay in a pursuit course?’ Sulu asked tersely, his hands poised above the helm.
Uhura felt a shiver run through her, shaking her from her top of her head to the tips of her toes. In her left ear, the frantic message from the remaining passenger ship, Australis, continued to loop. Damn it all, that was a colonization vessel filled with thousands! Even if she got a court martial for this in the event they ever manage to get back to their Starfleet, she was going to break the communication silence and force Spock to de-cloak and save those people!
It was what Jim Kirk, Iowan farm boy extraordinaire would have done, Uhura realized with an unexpected pang in her heart. The Red Alert klaxon continued to shriek.
‘Which Starfleet vessels have responded to the distress signals, Lieutenant?’ Spock asked, spinning on his heel to face Hannity at the auxiliary communications station.
The redhead shook her head, frowning. ‘Sir, there aren’t currently any Starfleet vessels nearby - Starfleet Command has responded that they’re sending the USS Veritas but…’ She hesitated, her expression becoming uneasy, ‘-the ship was in Earth Space Dock for repairs, and so their warp drive is still currently offline.’
Come on Spock, I know behind those criticisms you more than admire Kirk, you think he’s the best - this is why! Do what he would do! Do what feels right! He’d never take this lying down! He’d fight and he’d find a way to win!
Spock tilted his head, his eyes unfocused for a moment as his lips thinned; the indifference on his face so flat that Uhura couldn’t believe it to be anything except a masterfully constructed mask. Oh Spock… a part of her cried for him even as she glared at him, a growing sense of disappointment turning her stomach with each second he took to decide whether or not to give the damn mission a pause and save those colonists.
He spun around to face the helm. ‘Drop us out of cloak. Advise the Australis that we are responding to their hails and will contain the warp core breach with our deflectors - then maneuver two-nine-zero-alpha. Bring us alongside the escape shuttles still within vicinity and initiate planet atmospheric entrance sequence three-two-nine-sigma. Divert power to starboard shields.’
Affirmatives rang out through the bridge as the crew responded rapidly. Uhura let out a breath of relief and felt a grim smile curl along her lips as she succinctly sent out a broad-band message to advise the ships that they were responding to their distress call.
‘Sir, ship is in position and starboard deflector shields on maximum - full-impulse sir, matching the escape shuttles.’
‘Good. Maintain course.’
The ship suddenly shook violently, thrashing about as if some giant feral dog had them gripped within his maws. Around her, there were cries of alarm as consoles overloaded in a convulsion of sparks and choking smoke. The panel above her came loose with a shower of hot fiery flints, smacking her over the head with a mass of tangled conduits. Uhura ducked with a yelp and fell into Hawkins but it was already over.
‘Damage report!’ Spock called out with difficulty, as many of the bridge crew began to cough from the stench of seared insulation seeping into their lungs.
Uhura was bruised and shaken, and her spine hurt from a touch of whiplash but her worry for the escape pods and shuttles overrode her pain as she scrambled along the floor for her earpiece and tried to re-establish contact.
‘Shields holding at 73%, reports coming in now, sir…’ Hawkins reported in a rough voice, breaking off into a coughing fit.
Hannity swiveled from her station, ‘Light casualties in decks seven to ten and Engineering section. Turbolifts are currently offline; life support and all primary environmental systems are functioning. Medical is responding and using the engineering shafts to move around the ship.’
Spock gave a curt nod as he sat back down, checking command chair console for the Engineering update from Scotty, ‘Status of shuttles?’
‘Continuing on course to nearest habitable planet - should we follow, sir?’
Spock turned to her, ‘Any casualties, Lieutenant?’
Not trusting her own voice, Uhura shook her head.
‘Negative. Set in a pursuit course of the enemy ship, maximum warp.’ Spock said, with an unusually hard edge in his voice, striding over to the science station with a briskness that combined with his characteristic grace, seemed to Uhura like the prowl of some idle predator.
She glanced over startled by the thumps of the emergency chutes opening, the hatches hitting the deck. Three red-faced medics clambered onto the bridge, including Doctor Talleria, the acting Chief Medical Officer in McCoy’s absence. No, Uhura’s mind whispered almost traitorously, as Doctor McCoy is dead she has just inherited his post... Uhura gave the young woman a small smile of reassurance as she was scanned with a tricorder and given the all-clear with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.
This was not the nervous young woman that Uhura had met three days ago, sitting on the edge of her chair and unable to hide how overwhelmed she was by just being at the senior officers’ briefing. There was sweat on Doctor Talleria’s face, and a quiet intensity in her eyes as she checked whatever bridge crew she could reach. But she did not tut at them, there were no complaints about Starfleet being stingy with good old-fashioned seat belts, no sarcastic remarks, no nagging at - Uhura swallowed and looked to the empty command chair that Spock had vacated.
--------
Location unknown: the Narada, year 2246
Dimly, Spock felt James’ hands against the sides of his face, his head supported in the boy’s lap. He tried to open his eyes and sit up but that made the pain worse, a terrible sickness him making him want to curl up on the floor, stagger around and hurl the contents of his stomach all at the same time. Overhead, he heard the screech of metal against metal as the hatch was sealed shut, plunging their surroundings into familiar darkness. He embraced the cool silence of their cell even as he shivered uncontrollably, sweating, caught in the throes of his agony. In the quiet, he heard James’ unsteady breaths mingling with his faint shallow ones. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, to reassure but nothing came out except a raw gasp for air.
‘Shhh...’ James murmured, breath hitching as a strangled sob was forced down. ‘Don’t move. It’s okay. We’re back - in our room.’
This isn’t a room, this is a penitentiary…
‘Don’t move…’ James whispered hoarsely, slight hints of his terror coming through despite all his efforts. ‘I don’t know about Vulcan physiology but I know that what he did would have killed me, so just lie there and shut up and be a good Vulcan and don’t fucking move, okay?’
Spock stopped trying to open his eyes and nodded once, and immediately felt the world tilt dangerously. His stomach twisted, a new wave of nausea hitting him. No, he would not move. He could not move. Without provocation, a pain struck him across the abdomen, and compulsively, Spock jerked. Rolling to his side, he coughed violently, his entire body shuddering as his hands grasped blindly for something, anything, to hold onto. James cried out and quickly caught him, dragging Spock’s twisting form against him. Thick and ropey blood slid across Spock’s tongue in clots and dribbles of mucus as he coughed, unable to get a breath in.
When he finally stopped coughing, the mix of blood and mucus slid warm and wet down his chin. It tasted sour. Stomach mucus and digestive fluids, he noted hazily, with internal bleeding in the lungs and maybe the stomach; how extensive it was, Spock couldn’t tell but he needed medical attention, and he needed it now or he was going to, he was going to-
‘James-!’ He croaked, and immediately doubled over as more coughs tore through his lungs, starting anew in protest at his attempt to speak.
Spock felt breathless, dizzy, faint - he felt weak and mortal and-
And human… so human…
‘Shhh… it’s okay, you just got- got yourself a little dirty,’ James whispered in a quavering voice, and Spock felt trembling fingers hastily wipe over his mouth, the Human’s supporting arm tightening around him. ‘There... see? That’s better. Go on, do that Vulcan sleep thing. I’ll wait, go on.’
He felt warm breaths on his face as his friend leaned close to him, and he whimpered at the thought of James smelling his mess of blood and stomach fluids, his body straining to push the other boy away but found himself utterly helpless, unable to even lift his head.
‘For living…’ James whispered fiercely, both a plea and a command, and kissed him through the blood.
Spock swallowed painfully and felt unwanted tears well up in his eyes. He took a deep breath and reached up weakly, wordless, choking on the cries that wanted to burst out of him, about Mother, and Father, and the future - a ship named Enterprise, the stars, their crew, in history and-
James caught his hand, and squeezed his fingers. ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay… it’s okay… you’re going to be okay…’
An uncontrollable feeling swept through him. Spock jerked his hand away with all his strength and touched the Human’s face. In the darkness, he felt James smile and lean into it, but this was not a human caress. This was the only thing he could do now that his body was failing him. Spock let go of all his control and reached out with his mind, not caring that James would see everything because it hardly mattered now, control or propriety, Vulcan or Human.
Your thoughts are mine… and my thoughts are yours…
part thirteen
next: young Spock struggles to survive, while Spock struggles to continue the mission as the new Captain of the Enterprise...
Rating: Mature ( graphic violence, language, adult themes)
Pairing: pre-slash nu!K/S, kid!K/S
Cast: ensemble, plus Pike, W. Kirk, A. Grayson, and nu!versions of TOS random crew
Keywords: long multi-part fic, kid!Spock, kid!Kirk, time travel, badass!crew, epic friendship
Notes: as a fill for this plotty PROMPT from the kink meme.... ORIGINALLY written on 4 August 2009 --- just remember when you're reading this that I am not into character death, but I am not adverse to misdirection, angst and H/C --- other than that, enjoy :)
SUMMARY: the ploy to lure the Narada has worked too well and now the Enterprise is handling an angry Nero indiscriminately attacking civilian vessels while Kirk and McCoy have still yet to join the crew
BETA status - jademac2442 -- who has been a gem and gave me plenty of encouragement to do an excellent rewrite of this part
back to: part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight / part nine / part ten / part eleven
Location unknown: the Narada, year 2246
Nero approached him in a few broad strides, his expression thunderous. Spock felt a violent tremor seize his spine, every primordial instinct screaming for him to run. Beside him, James made a startled sound, jumping back only to collide with their guard. Wordless with rage, the Romulan gripped Spock roughly by the neck, pulling him over to one of the computer terminals. Vaguely, over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and his own choked breaths, he heard James shout his name.
‘Look at this, Spock.’ The Romulan ordered, ‘Look.’
Dimly, Spock registered the symbols and diagrams through the pain of the Romulan’s choke hold on his neck: astrometric telemetry… gravimetric vibrations from sub-space interference… Roughly he was pulled back and dragged to the viewscreen mounted on the wall. Nero’s blunt fingers released his throat to twist viciously in his hair. ‘Look!’ The Romulan yelled, ‘LOOK AT IT!’
Stellar cartography… encoding…? What am I supposed to see!
Spock felt a sharp pain along the roots of his hair as his head was sharply twisted around to face Nero. He noted the stench - twenty-three different combinations of sweat, chemicals, and blood - the wild darkness of Nero’s eyes and the contemptuous curl to his lips.
‘What is this trickery? ANSWER ME!’
Spock flinched, unable to help it. Fear blistered cold and hot along his limbs, making him tremble as he was shaken hard.
‘ANSWER ME!’
In the background he heard James call his name again, louder, more urgent, and then a guttural snap that he recognized to be the Romulan verb for “silence.” When the other boy’s voice fell away, he knew that the guard must have beaten him into silence and felt a brief surge of protectiveness and anger. Spock knew that nothing could stop James otherwise; the boy’s will was so strong and so insistent that it bordered on foolishness. Spock met Nero’s eyes and felt everything inside of him shiver.
‘I don’t know what you’re speaking of.’ He replied, as calmly as he could though he detected a faint tremor in his vowels.
Nero searched his face, those wild eyes burning into his before the Romulan’s expression darkened, twisting his features, drawing his lips back to show his teeth. Abruptly the Romulan slammed Spock’s head several times against a nearby terminal and flung him across the room with a wordless shriek of rage. His body hit the deck plating hard, his vision blurring, his mouth soundlessly gasping at the shock of it, his mind still reeling to process everything. The pain registered a moment later, stealing the air from Spock’s lungs.
Gritting his teeth, Spock tried to get up, his fingers digging into the floor desperately to crawl away as he heard the Romulan storming across the bridge towards him, and almost cried out when it was clear that it was too late, and Nero was there.
There was a hard kick into his abdomen, making Spock’s entire body heave in shock and agony. Another kick followed swiftly with a Romulan curse, and then another - and then more till he was halfway across the bridge floor, on his hands and knees, coughing and moaning and senseless with desperation. He could taste his own blood, Spock realized dimly as he dry-retched, clutching at his guts; the coppery taste was repulsive and sent a sick feeling straight to his stomach, making his digestive system churn violently.
Spock curled into a fetal position, his hands, his knees, his skull, all screaming from the sudden jarring impacts. Stop it, stop it!!! The young Vulcan closed his mouth and clenched his teeth tightly when he realized at the moans and piteous cries were from him. No! He would not give his captors the satisfaction of his suffering! He would be like James, he would face it without fear or complaint, and he would keep his composure! He was the older one, the more mature one, and James was watching him!
Abruptly, the blows stopped.
There is no pain… Spock swallowed down his sob of relief and curled his fists against the cold metal floor. Control… there is no pain!
Overhead, through a fog he heard Nero breathing heavily, ordering his crew to set a course for Kaeferia. A part of him recognized that as the Tau Ceti system, almost exactly midway between Vulcan and Earth, and the knowledge that he and James were so close and yet so far away from home rendered him with an almost physical sensation of anguish. Spock closed his eyes and drifted into a semi-conscious state, unable to find the energy to continue. The entire world felt wrong, off balance, slippery. Swallowing down an unacceptable noise, he felt rage at the bottom of his guts, burning hotter than the fear and pain running through his system unchecked. A savage part of himself, a part that he had feared and loathed and hidden, rose up and snarled at the Romulan, promised vengeance and destruction. This part yearned to stand up and see what had happened to James, to fight back.
But it was illogical to fight back - a human boy and a young Vulcan against a dozen fully grown Romulans? No, it would be certain death, and Spock wasn’t dying here. This would pass, he rationalized sluggishly through the fog over his mind, just like all the other times, he would hold on and he would live.
Focus, Spock, think logically, think of the future, think of Mother, think of James…
Those things which the Romulan had said, the possible future he had revealed meant to hurt and discourage Spock, came back to the young Vulcan through the pain, giving him a source of unexpected comfort. Though everything in his training told him that it was illogical, some other part of him which he had never been able to control wrestled with his inner self.
This will pass, that hopeful part of him whispered against all logic and reality. Spock listened to it, and felt it grow inside of him like a burst of light. Yes, he gritted his teeth, hold on; in their cell, he’ll listen to James passionately declare that it was unfair, use invectives and colorful language that Spock had never heard before in his life; James will say that he’d rather die and they’ll debate about it, him being the voice of reason while James despised him for a time, and then that would pass too. And then-
A booted foot prodded him viciously in the guts, sending a burst of pain through him and ripping an unbidden whimper from his throat. Spock let out a long shuddering gasp and allowed the darkness to claim him.
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En route to Earth: USS Enterprise, year 2246
The yellow alert blinked insistently down the wall, adding a faint lick of amber glow along every gleaming surface. Thankfully the warning alarm and the cold computerized voice had all been bypassed at the Captain’s orders; it would have frankly driven Uhura insane. At the corner of her eye, the First Officer glanced down at the command chair before shifting comfortably as if he didn’t feel right in the chair, as if - Uhura’s eyes cut back to her station, her grip tightening on the edge of the console - as if he was very aware that it was Jim Kirk’s chair.
‘Lieutenant, any sign of the Captain and Doctor McCoy?’ Spock asked, just as he had ten minutes before, a distinct frown on his face.
‘Nothing yet, sir,’ Hawkins said apologetically, spinning around from his console to face the Vulcan.
Nyota Uhura closed her eyes briefly in frustration. This enforced communication silence was testing her patience and she honestly didn’t know how Spock could just sit there, Vulcan control or not. She knew it was to protect their cloaked presence from being detected but without it, they could have hailed the shuttle, advised them of their coordinates and had Kirk and McCoy back onboard within minutes rather than all this hide-and-seek. In her left ear, the screech of the sub-space oscillation continued to grind painfully through her earpiece. Uhura twirled her fingers over the console, turning down the volume. Noticing her scowl, Lieutenant Hawkins gave her a reassuring smile which she returned with one of her own. In the background, she heard Spock ask the young man manning the science station if the sensors had picked up any sign of the Captain’s shuttle.
Moving her dial along the frequency bands, Uhura switched to a lower bandwidth and listened to the beeps and chirps of raw news-stream transmissions and then up higher to frequencies used for communications. There was some general sub-space chatter: the commercial cruise liner Paris IV would be departing soon for Deep Space Three, while a Barolian freighter was preparing to head out to the Romeo and Sierra Outposts along the Neutral Zone, and there was a cargo vessel that was late in arriving at nearby Andorra. Suddenly, she heard it:
‘Sir! Distress signal coming in from nearby Tau Ceti!’ Uhura said alarmed, gesturing quickly for Hawkins to switch frequencies. ‘It’s a commercial passenger liner! Ship advises an unknown alien vessel has just dropped out of warp and requests immediate assistance!’
Next to her, Hawkins’ face tensed as his hands moving swiftly across the secondary communications station, ‘Commander, I’m getting wide-band distress signals from at least three other sources sir, all within range of Tau Ceti.’
‘Confirmed, sir, long range sensors just picked up a ship - it’s….’ the young man at the Science Station looked up, paling dramatically. ‘It looks like the- the Narada, sir.’
A bite! Uhura secretly fisted her hand and punched the air in triumph. And only from their initial trials too!
The thrill of victory was short-lived. She cursed under her breath - talk about bad timing! Their bait had worked too well it seemed and now they had two senior officers out there without contact and a hostile enemy vessel actively hunting them. Uhura spun around to confront Spock, unable to keep quiet. ‘We have to warn the shuttle, Spock - we need to get Starfleet here! There’s not a-’
‘Negative, Lieutenant.’ Spock said flatly, giving her a stern look. Uhura felt a flush of anger and embarrassment at the disapproval he managed to convey with a single glance.
‘All stations: Red Alert.’ Spock announced, in his typical patrician manner, calm and composed in a way Uhura envied right this moment. The klaxons began to shriek, breaking the silence on the bridge and raising the hairs on the back of her arms and neck. ‘Helmsman, all deliberate speed to Tau Ceti. Maintain cloak and communication silence.’
Frustrated, Uhura took a deep breath and swallowed down the protests that she’d been about to make. Now was not the time to get into a fight about how much she hated Spock’s dismissive attitude. Uhura clenched her teeth; she’ll just have to trust Spock to do the right thing. Yes, she thought, be calm and professional, just another day on the job. Uhura placed her fingers upon her earpiece, pressing it in so that it drowned out everything else - the terminals beeping, the klaxons, and a cool computerized voice advising her that this was not a drill. She felt her heart skip as she listened to the short frantic message of the passenger ship crew. Heavy damages - deflector shields failing - emergency evacuation protocols initiated. Another ship, a freighter vessel, reported system failure imminent with all hands abandoning ship. She wondered if the escape pods and shuttles will be able to make it or if Nero would shoot them down too.
‘We’re within view, Commander Spock.’
‘On screen.’
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the passenger ship explode, the flames quickly snuffed by the vacuum of space. Silhouetted against the nearby star, the Narada gleamed darkly; the huge claw-like spires wrapped around its form was insect-like, reminding Uhura of the exoskeleton for an exotic, dangerous bug. This was it - the moment - the confrontation the entire ship had been waiting for. Suddenly, Spock’s relief spun around from the science station, eyes wide and his mouth gaping.
‘SIR, the- the shuttle! Captain and Doctor McCoy!!’ He stammered in a broken shout, ‘They just dropped out of cloak! In front of the Narada!’
Uhura’s eyes cut to the viewscreen and felt her breath hitch abruptly, almost choking her. No, he wasn’t! She watched in horror as the shuttle bearing Kirk and McCoy swiftly did a 180 turn on its head and streaked towards the Romulan vessel on a collision run, its deflectors crackling as it expertly skidded along several torpedoes meant for another civilian cruiser, sending them off course to explode harmlessly and yet not allowing a direct hit.
The explosion came suddenly, flaring across the screen and taking out a section of the Romulan vessel’s exotic hull construct.
‘Helm, full reverse! Maintain cloak integrity!’
‘Aye-aye, sir! Full reverse!’
Though it was thousands of miles away, Uhura felt the shuttle explosion breathe across her cheeks, hot and painful. Every hair on the back of her neck stood up and she shuddered involuntarily, knees tensed and heels digging into the deck, all her leg muscles ready to leap at the slightest provocation. The flames disappeared quickly, choked on space and darkness.
A needle-like bluster of white streaked out from the Narada, which Uhura recognized as atmosphere and insulation being vented into the chilling darkness of space, freezing instantly into ice powder, before this abruptly stopped as hull integrity shields snapped into place.
Someone gasped in the ensuing silence.
Uhura took a ragged breath, a small unwanted sob escaping her lips in shock at what she’d just seen.
James T. Kirk, farm boy from Nowhere, Iowa, her Captain for two years, just gone!
And the Doctor was with him … this can’t be happening… what the fuck had he been thinking!
He was being his father’s son, he was being a hero - some voice inside of her said, surprising her with its reverence and bitterness.
Her console beeped insistently at her. Though it physically hurt to look from the viewscreen, Uhura ripped herself away and stiffly spun to face her terminal. ‘Sir, we’re still getting a distress signal from the Federation cruiser Australis-’ She took a shaky breath but continued, her training kicking in as her mind seemed to go blank, everything becoming hazy. She distantly noted that she had broken a nail gripping the side of her console and somewhere in the back of her mind, the broken nail was funny. ‘They advise that warp core breach is imminent…’ Her voice wavered, thin, toneless and faraway, ‘… And request assistance to contain damage. Should we reply…Captain?’
Out of the corner of her eyes, Spock was sitting on the edge of the command chair, looking like any moment he was going to burst onto his feet and charge forward. In his tight face, she saw shock, confusion, and an almost indescribable expression hidden in the way his lips were poised, as if he were mid-sentence or gasp or cry - overwhelmed, she realized with a shock, Spock was literally speechless. Slowly he straightened in the command chair, his expression softening for a second before it morphed into his usual blank visage. No, it was not his usual calmness; his face was a mask of blistering stoicism and almost…savage.
Finally he spoke:
‘What is the status of the enemy vessel?’
‘Their shields are up, sir, weapons system remains online but they’re no longer locking torpedoes-‘
‘They’re jumping into warp, sir!’
On screen, the Narada hovered for a moment over the wreckage before disappearing.
‘Destination?’ Spock snapped.
‘Based on their trajectory…’ Chekov’s hands few across his console almost too fast for her eyes to follow, sheen of sweat across his brow, ‘…The vessel is headed for Starbase 39 Sierra, sir, on a direct course that will cross the Neutral Zone…’ The Ensign paused, and glanced towards the command chair uncomfortably, ‘…Captain.’
‘Should I lay in a pursuit course?’ Sulu asked tersely, his hands poised above the helm.
Uhura felt a shiver run through her, shaking her from her top of her head to the tips of her toes. In her left ear, the frantic message from the remaining passenger ship, Australis, continued to loop. Damn it all, that was a colonization vessel filled with thousands! Even if she got a court martial for this in the event they ever manage to get back to their Starfleet, she was going to break the communication silence and force Spock to de-cloak and save those people!
It was what Jim Kirk, Iowan farm boy extraordinaire would have done, Uhura realized with an unexpected pang in her heart. The Red Alert klaxon continued to shriek.
‘Which Starfleet vessels have responded to the distress signals, Lieutenant?’ Spock asked, spinning on his heel to face Hannity at the auxiliary communications station.
The redhead shook her head, frowning. ‘Sir, there aren’t currently any Starfleet vessels nearby - Starfleet Command has responded that they’re sending the USS Veritas but…’ She hesitated, her expression becoming uneasy, ‘-the ship was in Earth Space Dock for repairs, and so their warp drive is still currently offline.’
Come on Spock, I know behind those criticisms you more than admire Kirk, you think he’s the best - this is why! Do what he would do! Do what feels right! He’d never take this lying down! He’d fight and he’d find a way to win!
Spock tilted his head, his eyes unfocused for a moment as his lips thinned; the indifference on his face so flat that Uhura couldn’t believe it to be anything except a masterfully constructed mask. Oh Spock… a part of her cried for him even as she glared at him, a growing sense of disappointment turning her stomach with each second he took to decide whether or not to give the damn mission a pause and save those colonists.
He spun around to face the helm. ‘Drop us out of cloak. Advise the Australis that we are responding to their hails and will contain the warp core breach with our deflectors - then maneuver two-nine-zero-alpha. Bring us alongside the escape shuttles still within vicinity and initiate planet atmospheric entrance sequence three-two-nine-sigma. Divert power to starboard shields.’
Affirmatives rang out through the bridge as the crew responded rapidly. Uhura let out a breath of relief and felt a grim smile curl along her lips as she succinctly sent out a broad-band message to advise the ships that they were responding to their distress call.
‘Sir, ship is in position and starboard deflector shields on maximum - full-impulse sir, matching the escape shuttles.’
‘Good. Maintain course.’
The ship suddenly shook violently, thrashing about as if some giant feral dog had them gripped within his maws. Around her, there were cries of alarm as consoles overloaded in a convulsion of sparks and choking smoke. The panel above her came loose with a shower of hot fiery flints, smacking her over the head with a mass of tangled conduits. Uhura ducked with a yelp and fell into Hawkins but it was already over.
‘Damage report!’ Spock called out with difficulty, as many of the bridge crew began to cough from the stench of seared insulation seeping into their lungs.
Uhura was bruised and shaken, and her spine hurt from a touch of whiplash but her worry for the escape pods and shuttles overrode her pain as she scrambled along the floor for her earpiece and tried to re-establish contact.
‘Shields holding at 73%, reports coming in now, sir…’ Hawkins reported in a rough voice, breaking off into a coughing fit.
Hannity swiveled from her station, ‘Light casualties in decks seven to ten and Engineering section. Turbolifts are currently offline; life support and all primary environmental systems are functioning. Medical is responding and using the engineering shafts to move around the ship.’
Spock gave a curt nod as he sat back down, checking command chair console for the Engineering update from Scotty, ‘Status of shuttles?’
‘Continuing on course to nearest habitable planet - should we follow, sir?’
Spock turned to her, ‘Any casualties, Lieutenant?’
Not trusting her own voice, Uhura shook her head.
‘Negative. Set in a pursuit course of the enemy ship, maximum warp.’ Spock said, with an unusually hard edge in his voice, striding over to the science station with a briskness that combined with his characteristic grace, seemed to Uhura like the prowl of some idle predator.
She glanced over startled by the thumps of the emergency chutes opening, the hatches hitting the deck. Three red-faced medics clambered onto the bridge, including Doctor Talleria, the acting Chief Medical Officer in McCoy’s absence. No, Uhura’s mind whispered almost traitorously, as Doctor McCoy is dead she has just inherited his post... Uhura gave the young woman a small smile of reassurance as she was scanned with a tricorder and given the all-clear with a gentle squeeze on the shoulder.
This was not the nervous young woman that Uhura had met three days ago, sitting on the edge of her chair and unable to hide how overwhelmed she was by just being at the senior officers’ briefing. There was sweat on Doctor Talleria’s face, and a quiet intensity in her eyes as she checked whatever bridge crew she could reach. But she did not tut at them, there were no complaints about Starfleet being stingy with good old-fashioned seat belts, no sarcastic remarks, no nagging at - Uhura swallowed and looked to the empty command chair that Spock had vacated.
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Location unknown: the Narada, year 2246
Dimly, Spock felt James’ hands against the sides of his face, his head supported in the boy’s lap. He tried to open his eyes and sit up but that made the pain worse, a terrible sickness him making him want to curl up on the floor, stagger around and hurl the contents of his stomach all at the same time. Overhead, he heard the screech of metal against metal as the hatch was sealed shut, plunging their surroundings into familiar darkness. He embraced the cool silence of their cell even as he shivered uncontrollably, sweating, caught in the throes of his agony. In the quiet, he heard James’ unsteady breaths mingling with his faint shallow ones. He opened his mouth and tried to speak, to reassure but nothing came out except a raw gasp for air.
‘Shhh...’ James murmured, breath hitching as a strangled sob was forced down. ‘Don’t move. It’s okay. We’re back - in our room.’
This isn’t a room, this is a penitentiary…
‘Don’t move…’ James whispered hoarsely, slight hints of his terror coming through despite all his efforts. ‘I don’t know about Vulcan physiology but I know that what he did would have killed me, so just lie there and shut up and be a good Vulcan and don’t fucking move, okay?’
Spock stopped trying to open his eyes and nodded once, and immediately felt the world tilt dangerously. His stomach twisted, a new wave of nausea hitting him. No, he would not move. He could not move. Without provocation, a pain struck him across the abdomen, and compulsively, Spock jerked. Rolling to his side, he coughed violently, his entire body shuddering as his hands grasped blindly for something, anything, to hold onto. James cried out and quickly caught him, dragging Spock’s twisting form against him. Thick and ropey blood slid across Spock’s tongue in clots and dribbles of mucus as he coughed, unable to get a breath in.
When he finally stopped coughing, the mix of blood and mucus slid warm and wet down his chin. It tasted sour. Stomach mucus and digestive fluids, he noted hazily, with internal bleeding in the lungs and maybe the stomach; how extensive it was, Spock couldn’t tell but he needed medical attention, and he needed it now or he was going to, he was going to-
‘James-!’ He croaked, and immediately doubled over as more coughs tore through his lungs, starting anew in protest at his attempt to speak.
Spock felt breathless, dizzy, faint - he felt weak and mortal and-
And human… so human…
‘Shhh… it’s okay, you just got- got yourself a little dirty,’ James whispered in a quavering voice, and Spock felt trembling fingers hastily wipe over his mouth, the Human’s supporting arm tightening around him. ‘There... see? That’s better. Go on, do that Vulcan sleep thing. I’ll wait, go on.’
He felt warm breaths on his face as his friend leaned close to him, and he whimpered at the thought of James smelling his mess of blood and stomach fluids, his body straining to push the other boy away but found himself utterly helpless, unable to even lift his head.
‘For living…’ James whispered fiercely, both a plea and a command, and kissed him through the blood.
Spock swallowed painfully and felt unwanted tears well up in his eyes. He took a deep breath and reached up weakly, wordless, choking on the cries that wanted to burst out of him, about Mother, and Father, and the future - a ship named Enterprise, the stars, their crew, in history and-
James caught his hand, and squeezed his fingers. ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay… it’s okay… you’re going to be okay…’
An uncontrollable feeling swept through him. Spock jerked his hand away with all his strength and touched the Human’s face. In the darkness, he felt James smile and lean into it, but this was not a human caress. This was the only thing he could do now that his body was failing him. Spock let go of all his control and reached out with his mind, not caring that James would see everything because it hardly mattered now, control or propriety, Vulcan or Human.
Your thoughts are mine… and my thoughts are yours…
part thirteen
next: young Spock struggles to survive, while Spock struggles to continue the mission as the new Captain of the Enterprise...