FIC: Divergence 14/?
The Neutral Zone, Epsilon Virginis: USS Enterprise, year 2246
He was not meant to be here. There were many things which need his attention, and yet…
Stepping through the doors of the Captain’s quarters, Spock allowed himself a deep breath of respite as they slid close with a hiss behind him offering privacy which had become all too scarce. He didn’t call for lights, but simply stood there relishing in the quiet cool of absolute darkness. There was a familiar smell, a light tinge of sterilizing soap which every crewmember were to wash with after away missions, but mixed with that was a crisp undertone of something indistinct and pungent all at once - a personal scent, specific to this room. Reaching out, he manually turned on the lights to quarter strength. The antechamber was sparsely furnished, with a selection of padded chairs, a table, a work space with alcoves for personal items to be displayed.
Spock noted the few facsimile books resting upon shelves: “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” “War and Peace” “Zefram Cochrane’s Unauthorized Biography” “The Writings of Marcus Aurelius” and “Introduction to Klingon Culture”. It felt invasive somehow to be here in the Captain’s quarters though he visited often. Their unfinished game of 3D chess sat untouched, held in place by the inertial field that the Captain- no, Jim had activated. Spock approached the table slowly, which still bore the remains of that late-night discussion regarding the dispatch; a cup bearing the dried-up remains of what used to be Terran coffee, a dirty plate…
I don’t think you like the fact that I beat your test…
No he had not, Spock mused, it had been disconcerting and… a challenge; the presence of someone who was not intimidated by his logic as Humans were typically, and willing to - in fact insistent upon - debating with him.
So, what now? Shit, Spock. Don’t give me that look, I know that look dammit - if you want to hit me over the head with a PADD, fine, go ahead. We’re not going through the argument again - that’s my final decision as Captain. And Spock, at least ask Uhura to do it - it’ll hurt a lot less and someone will be having a good time…
Moving towards the table, Spock stopped when something caught on his foot. He looked down at the crumpled bathrobe in surprise and contemplated it for a moment before bending down to pick it up. The familiar scent became stronger, more pungent, until Spock felt as if he could drown in it. It smelt very much like… His eyes widened as he realized what he was doing and hasty thrust the robe away from him. It dropped back to the floor with a whisper. Unable to properly correlate an explanation for these inexplicable actions, Spock wrenched his eyes from it and onto something - he froze at the flash of mustard-gold in the dimness.
There, on the floor by the side of the bed, the Captain’s shirt lay in a folded heap.
Hey, about the ship…Promise me that you’ll look after her? That brand new smell hasn’t worn off yet…
Spock looked away.
If you have a clean shot, Spock, do it…
With a heavy feeling of regret, Spock stepped back towards the door. He was the Captain now. This was no time for contemplation. He had their mission to complete and his duty to the crew of this ship.
------------
Location Unknown: The Narada year 2246
Leonard McCoy sat back on his haunches and wiped the back of his wrist across his forehead, pushing stray hairs out of his eyes while trying to avoid his fingers. Dammit, need a haircut…
Jimmy Kirk had stopped the tears an hour ago and wore a distinctively pinched look on his face as he cleaned the unconscious Vulcan off. McCoy hide his wince at what the boy was using - a dirty bloodied bandage soaked in sterilizing solution he’d softened with a quart of water. His neck ached, and his spine was stiff like an old man’s but his patient was still kicking and that’s all that mattered. Picking up his handheld sensor, the doctor waved it over the limp form for the fifth or sixth time, the soft hum of the tricorder echoing against the flat hard surfaces of the cell walls.
An improvement… but not by much… thank God for that Vulcan physiology… maybe, just maybe…
His eyes flicked to the young boy who was the thirteen year old version of his Captain. ‘Hey kid, how’d you know what he needed?’
Jimmy gave him a blank look, eyes almost glazed over in exhaustion. ‘What?’
‘How did you know that he needed more Masiform-D than the standard dose?’ He couldn’t be too sure but there was something funny going on. While he’d been treating Spock, the boy had directed him to sites where the injury was worst, and seemed to know where the pain was coming from, had even replied to all the medical history questions he’d been muttering under his breath to himself since he didn’t exactly expect the patient to wake up and answer.
‘I don’t know…’ The boy said, uncertain. ‘I just… I just know… Spock.’ He said, like that could explain everything.
McCoy narrowed his eyes, ‘You just know Spock?’
‘Well… yeah.’
Something inside of McCoy went off. If there was one thing included in the awfully brief medical dossier on Vulcan, it was that they had telepathic abilities which were not to be screwed around with; insanity was one of the side effects, not to mention disassociated personality disorder. Only those trained could use the techniques with any success, and there were bad consequences for both all the initiator and the subject if things went wrong.
‘Did he touch you like this?’ McCoy asked urgently, raising his hands, and spread his fingers over the psi points trying to remember that diagram he’d seen.
Though the boy didn’t say anything, he already had his answer from the casual shrug and averted eyes. McCoy took a deep weary breath and made a note that if they got out of this (when, some small voice corrected, sounding suspiciously like Jim) M’Benga would have to examine Jimmy.
------------
Planet-side: Dessica II, year 2246
Uhura took a slow sip of her Cardassian sunrise and kept her eyes on the bottles behind the bar. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels in an original 20th century bottle, unopened, sitting prettily under pink lights. That, she thought slightly irritated, really belonged in a museum - it was no doubt here because of theft. A Denebian shimmied into the seat next to her with a sloppy slosh. The creature blushed uncomfortably at the sound, luminous eyes flicking over quickly to gauge Uhura’s reaction. The lieutenant hid her grin and tactfully turned the other way, taking the opportunity to glance around the bar. It was dark, with a bit of music in the background that she found too discordant to enjoy, and an ever-changing mix of alien species, all huddling intimately (or not, she thought dryly at the sight of the Klingon who had a Kaefarian by the scruff of his neck) at the various booths and tables around the place. The sound of conversation was only slightly softer than the music, and together well, it just sounded like messy. Suddenly, her attention was drawn to the main door: bald, pointy ears, bearded. Nudging Xing with her foot, she flicked her eyes discretely in that direction.
‘Two Romulans. Left 160.’ She murmured under her breath before taking a long suck on the straw, slurping like she was drunk and quickly flicked out an old-fashioned make up compact. She shifted the mirror till she had them in her sights. They were all taller than her by at least a head, and their dark animal pelt coats hid well the disruptor hoisted by their left side. Just reach in, pull out and shoot - quick and efficient; she’ll have to warn Spock before the away team went through with the planned ambush. As their eyes roamed the bar, looking for a place to sit, Uhura quickly went back to pretending she was busy with her reflection, running a finger along the edge of her eye.
Waving her credit waver over the scanner, she paid and navigated her way to the back, pretending that she needed to use the restrooms. The humanoid facilities were thankfully quiet. She found a nice dark corner just short of the entrance.
‘Uhura to Spock,’ she whispered into the communicator, keeping an eye what was happening in the bar. She couldn’t see the Romulans but Xing seemed to be very interested in something just to the right, out of her field of vision. ‘Come in.’
There was a short pause and then her communicator fizzed to life: “Spock here. What is your status?”
‘Two sighted. They’re well-armed - disruptors, concealed carry.’
‘Keep them within sight.’
‘Yes sir.’
Flipping her communicator close, Uhura tucked it back in the pouch against her pelvis hidden by the long draping hem of her black tunic.
It’s about to get interesting…
----------
Location Unknown: The Narada, year 2246
Leonard McCoy’s eyes flew open at the sudden commotion overhead, loud clangs and guttural shouts punctuating the air. He’d fallen asleep in a corner with his arms crossed, exhausted from tending to young Spock. Shooting to his feet, his hand quickly groped for his phaser and aimed it at the open hatch. Under his breath, he swore. It’d been careless of them, lounging around and resting when the Romulans could be back to check on Jimmy and Spock at any moment, but Spock couldn’t be moved without a stretcher and as hard as Jim had looked, there was nothing around here that they could use. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jimmy scrambling over to where Spock was.
Good kid….Wonder what happened to make him grow up into Jim…
Suddenly, Jim’s face popped through the hatch, making all his hairs stand on end like a startled cat’s.
‘Bones! We got company!’
‘HOLY- Jim! You scared the crap outta me! I could have shot you!’
The younger man’s face disappeared and he heard the sound of his scampers fading into the distance. Forcing himself to get a grip, he turned to face Jimmy. ‘You, wait here and look after him.’ He gestured to the med kit, ‘You know how to use a tricorder?’ The kid gave a curt nod. ‘Yeah well you can monitor how Spock is doing while I'm gone, okay kid?’
Turning, he was almost out when there was an anxious ‘Wait!’
McCoy twisted around to face the boy, recognizing the sound of a frightened kid. He felt a pang at the thought of Joanna, the way she called out like that after a nightmare and he was leaving to go back to his bed. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring grin, ‘Don’t worry, kid, we’ll be back.’
That’s a promise… even if I gotta kill a Romulan or two to keep it…
----------
Planet-side: Dessica II, year 2246
‘Excuse me, gentleman. I believe you have something of mine.’
These were the words that Spock said before cleanly executing a Vulcan nervepinch upon one of the Romulans.
It was over quickly. The remaining Romulan swung some kind of alien hand weapon from the hidden holster under his coat and shot at Lieutenant Matthews who had been mid-lunge. Unfortunately the man failed to realize that Spock was his greatest threat. It happened fast - almost too fast for Uhura’s eyes to catch. Spock neatly wrapped his arm around the second Romulan’s head, there was a wet sharp snap and then the Romulan dropped to the ground, limbless and cooling. In the ensuing shocked silence, she realized that she had just witnessed Spock perform the Tel shy’a - the Vulcan method of breaking an enemy’s neck, painless and instant.
With swift economical movements, Spock rolled the first Romulan onto his back, and quickly found his psi points. Reminded of their mission, Uhura glanced around discretely. Besides the turned heads and a bit of pointing and murmuring, no one seemed to be taking an active interesting. One of the security officers grabbed an arm and dragged the corpse out of sight.
When Spock’s eyes snapped open, he gave them a cool look. ‘Beam the prisoner back to the ship; Lieutenant Uhura, you will accompany Lieutenant Xing aboard and begin a standard interrogation of our prisoner as soon as he awakes. The rest of the away team will beam directly to the Narada using the co-ordinates I have obtained and attempt to recover my counterpart, and that of…’ Spock hesitated, ‘…the Captain’s.’
There were several raised eyebrows at that piece of information. Uhura kept her surprise to herself and pushed away the sudden feelings of guilt that rose up out of nowhere. Flipping open her communicator, she joined Xing in the alleyway out of sight. The young Chinese man had the unconscious Romulan slung over his shoulder. ‘Uhura to Enterprise, come in please.’
‘Enterprise here,’ came Scotty’s distinctive accent.
‘Three to beam up.’
‘Aye-aye, three to beam.’
Glancing at Spock and the rest of the away team, she closed her communicator and waited for the sensation of the transporter beam.
‘Good luck.’ She called out, smiling when Spock turned to meet her eyes just as she disappeared.
----------
Location Unknown: The Narada, year 2246
‘Get down!’
Leonard McCoy spun around and jumped to his left, his hands scrambling for purchase along the slippery wet floor as he half-rolled, half-wriggled himself behind the nearest stack of abandoned machinery. Oh God this is disgusting... A fizz of disruptor fire exploded near his head, sending a shower of sparks over his face. He swung his head out of the way and winced at the slight burn, rubbing his cheek with his shoulder even as he slammed himself back into side of the dead terminal, breathing heavily. His clothes were now damp - goddammit! Suddenly, Jim crashed into him and tripped over his legs, hitting the metal deck with a hard thunk. Overhead, the disruptor fire continued.
‘Got any bright ideas, Captain?’
Gasping for air, Jim shrugged and quickly got into a crouch, peering over the top of a scrapped bulkhead before ducking back down to avoid disruptor fire. ‘They’re feisty aren’t they?’
‘Yeah well you did take out two of them.’
‘It’s still better than last time.’ Jim commented with a cheerful grin and swung himself up, phaser sparking out quick shots.
McCoy banged his head back against the dead terminal he was resting against and willed himself stop panicking. This was a far cry from their escapades at the Academy. There, it had been familiar ground, and no one had been shooting at them with any real force - the most it would have been was a stun. The Romulans on the other hand, were out for blood and he had a feeling that sooner or later, one of them was going to get smart and decide to start vaporizing things. McCoy jerked his hand away when a streak of disruptor fire scorched the metal deck near it. Oh well, hot damn!
‘Um, Bones, some help would be good?’
Rolling his eyes, McCoy hesitated at the sight of the pipes above their head, disappearing out of his line of sight. Oh I’ll be damned, maybe, just maybe…
Switching his phaser to kill, McCoy glanced behind him around the corner, immediately swinging back around when that nearly got him a face full of disruptor energy. These Romulan bastards were really something - damn all those quick Vulcan reflexes! Still, he thought to himself, this could work. Grabbing Jim by the arm, he jerked the young man down to the floor hard.
‘WOAH! Shit Bones! What the-!’
Swinging his phaser up, he quickly snuck a look at the Romulans and with his eyes squeezed shut, pulled the trigger. There was a snap fizzle and then suddenly, a loud hissing sound filled the air. Direct hit! McCoy threw himself back down, slamming loudly into the side of the dead terminal. Within seconds there was the sound of coughing, stomping and yelling. Jim snuck a look and turned to him with an incredulous grin. ‘Bones, where did you-?’
‘Yeah well, I have known you for five years.’
With a laugh, his Captain scurried out into the clearing and fired several shots, quickly hiding behind the next pile of disused machinery when the Romulans returned fire. McCoy glanced around the scrapped metal he was pressed against. The Romulans were coughing and waving their hands madly, even as they traded disruptor fire with Jim. Feeling bolder, he got back onto his knees and aimed his phaser.
‘First one who gets a Romulan has to buy the other a drink at the next shore leave.’ Jim yelled over the sound of the vented gas hissing and the Romulans.
‘You’re on!’ He yelled back.
Before they had a chance to get started however, there were several sharp fizzles of phaser fire and everything went quiet. Confused, Leonard McCoy frowned and narrowed his eyes at the pale white gas obscuring the doors of the chamber from view. There was the sound of a long painful grind, and the gas venting from the shot pipes slowed, leaving only the already vented gas to slowly drift like fog on a cold morning.
‘Captain?’
McCoy’s eyebrows hit his hairline in shock as he shot to his feet. ‘SPOCK!’
Suddenly the pointy-eared bastard was emerging from the midst of the white gas, flanked by several security personnel in plain clothes. He recognized Lieutenant Matthews, who he knew by name after the last time he had to set the poor guy’s broken arm. Leonard McCoy had never been gladder to see a Vulcan than right this moment.
‘You bastard!’ He yelled, furious and relieved all at once, ‘you could’ve saved us a lotta trouble you green-blooded-‘
Jim clapped a hand on his shoulder, stopping the tirade. ‘You’re late Spock.’
Slowly, Spock approached, looking at Jim with concern but saying nothing. His face was locked in a controlled fierceness that frankly, scared Leonard McCoy just a little. Boy, he sure didn’t want to be on the receiving end of that look because McCoy was hell as sure that if Vulcan’s had an “I’m going to kick your ass” face, this would be it.
‘Captain, it is most fortunate that you have survived the shuttlecraft explosion. You shall have to explain the mechanics of it at a later date. I was certain you and the Doctor had…’ McCoy could have sworn that the Vulcan’s voice got a little wobbly there, but it was probably just his imagination, ‘…Perished.’
What wasn’t his imagination was the way Spock was glaring at Jim. McCoy knew that look. It was the “I’m so relieved to see you alive and I can’t believe you pulled such a stupid stunt, you big idiot.” Oh yes, he thought dryly, he knew that look - he had a patent on that look.
‘Happy to see me gone?’ Jim wagged his eyebrows.
Spock tilted his head and shot Jim a dark look, ‘On the contrary.’
With a fond pat on the shoulder, Jim grinned in his usual irrepressible manner. ‘All part of my grand plan, Spock, but thanks for caring.’
The Vulcan shot Jim another dark look before looking around them. ‘We should hurry. The Enterprise is at the ready to beam us out.’
‘Hang on, hang on - hold your horses.’ McCoy said, waving for time-out. ‘The kids, Jim - we gotta go get them. Hell, considering this stroke of luck, we might even save Spock.’ At the Vulcan’s raised eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. ‘The other Spock, mini-Spock or however you wanna put it.’
Jim nodded, his expression quickly switching to that of a captain. ‘You three,’ He pointed at the security personnel to Spock’s right, ‘go with Doctor McCoy. The rest, come with me.’ Jim headed in the direction the men had come from, brushing past the Vulcan.
‘Captain?’ Spock asked, turning his head to follow the man with a perplexed look, ‘what are you doing?’
Jim drew close and faced his First Officer front on, ‘Spock, we’re aboard the Narada, you know what’s going to happen if we let this ship go. We can save our counterparts but there’s no telling what Nero’s going to do - and we can’t be certain that in a fair fight, the Enterprise will be able take her. This is our chance, to find out about this ship, take it apart and discover its weaknesses. Best scenario is that we’ll be able to access the self-destruct,’ Jim smiled grimly and then shrugged, looking away as if this was just idle talk, ‘Worst case scenario - we find out some interesting things about our favorite Romulan and run for our lives. I think it’s worth the risk.’
There was a slight pause as Spock considered Jim's words. ‘Captain, I agree to your proposal but I do not think that you should join us. Considering the nature of our mission, I cannot allow you to put yourself in such risk and therefore I respectfully request that you reconsider.’
‘Spock, I’m leading the away team.’
For a moment there, McCoy thought that the Vulcan was going to snap that Jim was being irrational again, referring to the Enterprise as a woman, but the Vulcan merely stared at Jim. ‘I estimate that crew moral has fallen to 77.3 percent at the news of your demise.’
Jim smiled easily with an exasperated air, ‘Spock, this isn’t a popularity contest.’
‘As the most senior officer, your place is on the ship.’ Spock stated with a hard edge to his normally mild voice. McCoy raised an eyebrow at that sort of behavior coming from the Vulcan. It was a worrying sign, and left him wondering if he should be preparing to treat someone (namely, Jim) for a black eye.
Jim gave Spock an inscrutable look, a bemused glint in his eyes, ‘Spock, I think you know my answer to that.’
‘Indeed, but as your First Officer, I must remind you of your duties and apologize in advance for what I’m about to do.’ Just as a look of realization passed over Jim’s face, Spock had already struck, his hand resting on the juncture between the younger man’s neck and shoulder. Jim dropped unconscious like a stone, caught by Spock who neatly handed him off to Lieutenant Matthews.
‘Get the Captain back aboard the ship.’ He ordered in a tone that brooked no opposition, before turning to face the others.
Leonard McCoy shook his head, ‘You know Spock, he’s going to kill you when he wakes up.’
‘Then I shall look forwards to his attempt at homicide when we return to the ship.’ Spock remarked with a sardonic lilt to his eyebrows. McCoy snorted in response. In the background, the lieutenant advised two to beam out and disappeared mere seconds later, taking Jim with him.
Turning around, the doctor waved for the security officers to follow him. ‘Come on, get a move on!’
This was the best damn scenario possible. In fact, considering the state that he left the young Spock in, he just might pull through after all. As long as he hasn’t gotten worse since we’ve been out here, playing cowboy with these Romulan scumbags…
Leonard McCoy felt a burst of hope and took off at a run, eager to get back to his patient.
part fifteen
next: Spock leads the away team aboard the Narada while Jim wakes up in Sickbay on the Enterprise, none too pleased with his First Officer's mutinous actions. Meanwhile, McCoy preps young Spock for surgery...