Star Trek: Man Bites Dog
Title: Man Bites Dog (Some Sort of Transposition)
Pairing: Kirk/Spock preslash
Rating: R for profanity
Warnings: None, except a cracky premise
Notes: Written for a prompt on startrek_crack. Also fills 'meeting AU counterparts' for Cliché Bingo. BINGO FOR ME. Beta-read by rhaegal. I think I sort of hate this, but... whatever. I can't look at it anymore. The title is horrible and partly comes from “Mirror, Mirror”.
Summary: Kirk, Spock and McCoy get transported into a universe where Vulcans are the 'bad guys' and Romulans are in the Federation.
Spock and Bones were already waiting on the transporter pad when Jim came in at a jog.
“Sorry, guys,” he said as he hopped up onto the pad, his polished shoes squeaking. “Little delay; Uhura had a question about some communiques from Starfleet before we left.”
Bones scowled. “You're full of shit, Jim. You just wanted me to suffer in this uniform as long as possible.”
“But you look so damn good in your dress blues, Bones,” Jim said with a wink. He took advantage of the moment of speechlessness he'd won with that remark to turn his attention to Scotty at the transporter controls. “Well, the party's waiting for us, Scotty. Energize.”
“Aye, Captain. Have fun and have a drink or three for me, boys.”
“McCoy will have at least five, just for you,” Jim said, before his lips dematerialized.
He blinked when the scenery reformed around them; they were supposed to be on the surface of Rigel IV, in the designated arrival area for the conference. Instead, they were still on the transporter pad, and Scotty was staring at them.
“Please tell me this isn't some kind of weird revenge for that poker game,” Jim said.
“Captain?” Scotty sputtered. “What are you doing here? In your dress uniform?”
“Trying to get beamed down to the conference! Let's go!” He'd come back with a bottle of Rigellian single-barrel as an apology for the poker game thing, if he had to.
“You're supposed to be on the bridge,” said Scotty. “I just beamed down the landing party. Where the bloody hell do you suppose they've gone?” He finally looked at McCoy and Spock. “You too, Doctor? And who the buggering fuck is that?”
Jim spun on his heel to make sure it was definitely Spock being sworn about. Spock raised an eyebrow.
“Jesus Christ, is that a fucking Vulcan?”
'No kidding,' Jim opened his mouth to say, but Scotty had already hit the emergency call button for Security.
“Intruders in the transporter room.”
A five-man team stormed into the room in under thirty seconds, phasers drawn, and Jim wasn't sure if he was more proud or scared when they recognized him and kept their weapons levelled anyway. He stepped back to draw even with Spock and Bones, raising his hands slowly as they did the same.
“Scott to bridge. We have a situation.”
“Captain,” Spock said in an undertone, “this is not our Enterprise.”
“Are you sure?” Jim answered just as quietly, eyeing Lt. Giotto.
“It is unquestionably a version of the Enterprise, but there are minuscule aesthetic differences from our own ship,” Spock murmured. “I believe there has been a transporter malfunction of some kind, which has likely sent us into a different dimension.”
Jim had a sudden, vivid image of Spock with a beard and wondered where it came from. He shook his head lightly to dispel it; these strange flashes came and went since he'd taken the captaincy.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“I believe we should wait for the captain to arrive, at which point we may discern what is going on. I am led to understand that the captain of this ship is quite an open-minded and reasonable person.”
Jim shot a sideways glance at him but Spock's face was as expressionless as ever.
“Still stuck in this hell-spawned dress uniform,” Bones muttered from his other side.
“Well,” Jim said brightly, “they won't have to redress you if we die here.”
They weren't kept waiting long; it was about two minutes before footsteps echoed in the corridor and the door opened to reveal... Jim. He stopped dead in the doorway, staring, and Jim stared back. Damn, he looked better in gold than he'd thought. Bones might have been right about him needing to start eating better, though.
Other-Jim finally snapped out of his trance, stepping aside to allow his companion into the room. The only thing about the first officer that looked familiar was the pointy ears. Jim blinked.
“That is a Romulan,” Spock murmured. “Note the brow ridges.”
What the hell kind of universe had they beamed into?
Other-Jim and the Romulan looked at each other for a moment and then advanced as one toward the transporter pad, scattering the security team to the edges of the room.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Other-Jim said. “Scotty, I apologized for the poker game. That was a big fucking bottle of Romulan ale.”
“I forgave you, Captain, and this is no joke. They appeared as soon as I finished beaming the away team.”
Other-Jim whipped around to face Scotty. “What happened to the away team? Can you get a signal?”
Scotty played with some controls. “I'll hail Uhura, see if she can make contact with them,” he muttered.
“Captain,” said the Romulan, “that's the Vulcan Spock to... your right.”
“Oh. Well, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it?” Other-Jim turned to Giotto. “Stun and lock up the Vulcan; leave one of your people to keep an eye on... the other two... for me. Probably a good idea not to underestimate them.”
Giotto stunned Spock before Jim could do anything to stop it; he lunged forward to catch his friend before he hit his head on the ground.
“Back away from the Vulcan,” Giotto said, jumping up onto the platform and aiming his phaser at Jim. Jim watched helplessly as Spock's unconscious form was pulled away and restrained, to be dragged off by four of the security personnel.
“Where are you taking him?” he demanded.
His other self gave him a confused look. “To the brig?”
“He didn't fucking do anything! He's my first officer!” He couldn't stop his voice from rising; Bones reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, in case he was going to leap off the transporter pad and attack himself or something.
Everyone else in the transporter room stared at him in shocked silence. “We need to talk,” Other-Jim said eventually. “We're going to Sickbay; I need Bones in on this. Mr. Livok, go to the bridge and relieve Mr. Sulu. I'll update you later,” he said, seeing that the Romulan was about to protest.
Petty Officer Jones, their remaining security detail, gestured with her phaser for them to step off the platform, and they were marched through the ship by Other-Jim to Sickbay, where Other-Bones saw them and promptly dropped his tricorder on the floor.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Jim and Other-Jim both grinned as Bones and Other-Bones stared at each other.
“The number of sane people on the Enterprise just doubled,” Bones said finally.
Other-Bones stooped to pick up his tricorder, examining it to see if he'd broken it. “If your Jim's anything like my Jim, that's not going to be enough,” he groused.
“Check them out, Bones, and make sure they're who they seem to be,” said Other-Jim.
“So you brought us here for a reason besides making Bones crazy,” said Jim, hopping up to sit on the nearest biobed, his medals clinking on his chest. Other-Bones advanced on him with the tricorder and a menacing look.
“You can never be too careful,” Other-Jim said, lounging against a wall.
They checked out as human (although Bones was a lot less willing to be scanned than Jim would have thought, especially since it was by himself) and relocated to the CMO's office, where Other-Bones assured them there would be bourbon for everyone.
Jim got down to business as soon as they were seated. “I demand you release my first officer and return him to us.”
“Damn right,” Bones said, surprising the hell out of Jim. “And what kind of backwards-land is this, where you've got Romulans in Starfleet?” He paused, frowning at the familiar insignias on their counterparts' chests. “This is still Starfleet, right?”
Other-Jim crossed his arms and studied them from his perch on the edge of Other-Bones' desk. “The Romulans are founding members of the Federation of Planets and some of our closest allies against galactic threats like the Vulcans.” He took in their twin looks of shock and confusion and frowned. “It's the other way around where you're from, isn't it?” he said slowly.
“Earth's First Contact was with the Vulcans,” Jim said.
“And they didn't try to conquer you?”
“No.” The thought of any Vulcan setting out to conquer something besides their own emotions was shorting out his brain a little bit. “They're pretty live-and-let-live.”
“I think I want to live in your universe,” Other-Jim said, raising his eyebrows. “For one thing, your dress uniforms are nicer.”
Bones scowled at the reminder that he was still wearing his, and grabbed his bourbon to swallow half of it in one go.
“All right,” Other-Jim said, “here's the short version: our Vulcans are cold, ruthless fascists on a quest to subjugate the Milky Way. The Romulans apparently weren't much better, once upon a time, but since the Vulcans are their mortal enemies and posed a threat to their way of life, they stepped in before Earth could be conquered. Along with Earth, Andoria and Tellar, they helped form the Federation and keep the Vulcans at bay.
“We've gone to war a few times since then, until finally about ten years ago, Praetor Colius talked the Federation President and the Council into an aggressive strike. A volunteer team of Romulans shot a trilithium bomb into 40 Eridani and made it go supernova, which destroyed Vulcan.” Other-Jim frowned and Other-Bones muttered something unintelligible into his glass. “Now there's only a handful of them left; whoever was off-planet at the time, on their warships and outposts. Things have calmed down a lot, but Spock is one of their most decorated officers and just about the most ruthless son of a bitch I've ever had the misfortune to meet in battle.”
The facts rattled around Jim's brain for quite a while, unable to sort themselves into some kind of sense. “But Spock's half-human,” he blurted.
Other-Jim and Other-Bones both stared at him. “What?”
Silently, he cursed his big mouth. “You... you didn't know that?” He thought. “It might not be true in this timeline, I guess....”
Other-Jim reached for the comm. “Kirk to bridge.”
“Captain,” came Livok's voice.
“I need you in McCoy's office,” he said.
“On my way.”
Jim buried his head in his hands. Bones took another long drink.
Livok was there in no time. “What's up?” he asked.
“What do you know about Spock?” Other-Jim asked him immediately.
“Besides that he's an asshole?” Livok glanced at Jim, who was sure he still looked dumbstruck, and pushed up the sleeve of his uniform. “Fucker gave me this scar,” he said.
Jim looked at it; it was a thick, white line of scar tissue that ran all the way up his forearm. “That's... I'm sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
“Yeah.” Livok pushed his sleeve back down. “Can't say much more about him than most Vulcans, Jim,” he continued, looking back at his captain. “They keep everything pretty quiet.”
“Would you definitely say that the Vulcan in the transporter room was Spock?” Other-Jim asked.
“Without question. He was the spitting image.”
“Every detail?”
“What? Yes.”
Other-Jim cocked an eyebrow in a manner that reminded Jim crazily of Spock. “He's half-human.”
“Look,” Jim interrupted, “that's not necessarily true here, all right? You don't know-” He broke off mid-sentence, because Livok was giving him a look that made him distinctly uncomfortable.
“You know a lot about Vulcans, don't you, Jim? Can I call you Jim?”
“He's not your Jim,” Bones snapped. “Show a senior officer some goddamn respect.”
Livok raised his hands. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Captain Kirk.”
“Look,” said Jim, starting to get to his feet, “I'm not telling you shit, because this is none of our business and it would probably violate the Prime Directive somehow, if they knew it could possibly happen. So if you'll excuse us, I think we'll just grab Spock and go see if your Mr. Scott's found a way to send us back.”
Livok's hand pressed heavily on his shoulder, forcing him back down. “We can't let him go, Captain Kirk. He's dangerous.”
“He's unconscious,” Jim said, “and you'll let us go see him or I will show you dangerous.” He knew this ship like the back of his hand, he was willing to bet.
“Hey,” Other-Jim cut in, interrupting the undercurrent of violence that was beginning to fill the office. “We all know I can't deny myself anything. We'll go check on your Spock, and then maybe we'll talk some more. Okay?” He grinned disarmingly; Jim recognized it as one of the better ones in his arsenal.
“Maybe,” he agreed, shrugging off Livok's hand and standing up.
***
Spock was awake again when they got to the brig, perched on the edge of the bed in his cell and clutching his head in both hands. Jim remembered with sympathy that phaser stuns sometimes caused headaches as an after-effect.
“Spock,” he said, approaching the bars with Bones at his side. Spock looked up and got unsteadily to his feet to join them.
“Captain, have you been able to discover what has happened?” he asked, blinking against the strong lights. The guard on duty dropped the part of the forcefield that formed the door and Bones immediately slipped through, into the cell. He produced a penlight from nowhere and started checking Spock's pupils through the bars as Jim answered.
“Yeah,” Jim said in an undertone, “we're definitely in another timeline. The Romulans are in the Federation and the Vulcans are basically the Romulans, I think.” He thought about sharing the details about Spock himself but hesitated; Spock spoke again before Jim could come to a decision, batting away Bones' light.
“Doctor, I am quite well, I assure you. Captain, what precisely has happened here? The thought of Vulcans behaving in the manner of our timeline's Romulans is difficult to imagine.”
Jim crossed his arms, studying Spock carefully, but he wasn't even squinting against the lights anymore so he must have been improving. “Apparently when the Vulcans made First Contact with Earth, they tried to take us over. The Federation was formed to fend them off. They were described to us as a bunch of warlike, fascist bastards.”
Spock looked lost in thought for a moment. “It is true that our race was once inexpressibly violent, but the teachings of Surak curbed those instincts and helped Vulcans to advance as a civilization. There was a time of uncertainty, approximately a century ago, but the Syrranite movement refreshed our aims of peace and non-interference with other species.”
Jim pondered this. “Maybe there were no Syrranites here?”
“It is possible that this would have been enough to diverge the timeline,” Spock agreed. “However, there is insufficient data at this time to draw conclusions. Perhaps if we could be allowed access to the ship's databanks... but if the Vulcans are not members of the Federation in this timeline, then it is unlikely that much knowledge of them exists among other species. At any rate, it is purely a matter of curiosity and not relevant to our goals of returning to our own timeline.”
“About that,” Jim said. “They don't want to release you.”
Spock stared at him.
“They think you're going to freak out and kill everyone or something. I don't know.”
“Because I am Vulcan? Have you explained our pacifist ways to our hosts?”
Now Jim couldn't see a way to avoid the topic, anymore. “Not so much that,” he admitted. “There's actually a Spock in this timeline.”
“They do appear to know who I am, even though I apparently do not work on this ship. Fascinating. Is the Spock of this timeline a source of concern for Starfleet?”
“He sounds like a real piece of work,” Jim said, knowing he was prevaricating. “I guess he's like, a higher-up in the Vulcan military.”
Spock looked away, his expression faintly tight. “Unfortunately, Jim, you have been party to emotional outbursts from me in the past. I doubt it is difficult for you to imagine my likely behaviour, if I had not been raised to observe cultural values of pacifism and emotional self-control.”
That was true, and after seeing the scar on Livok's arm, Jim wasn't sure he'd like to cross paths with the Spock of this timeline. He did have a talent for pissing Spock off, after all.
“I'm glad you're okay,” he said, changing the subject. “I'm going to do my damnedest to get you freed as soon as possible. In the meantime, try to get some rest and I'll make sure they're treating you right.”
“I will trust that the Mr. Scott of this timeline is as capable as our own, and will shortly manufacture a solution to the problem.” Spock made his way back over to his cot and lay down, apparently planning to sleep off the remnants of his headache.
Jim and Bones were escorted out of the brig by Petty Officer Jones and taken up to the bridge, where the captain and his first officer had gone back to work. Jim looked around as they stepped out of the turbolift; Spock had been right about there being little differences between this ship and their own. Now that Jim had been here for a while, he was starting to notice them: different computer controls here and there, a slightly different contour to the consoles. The air seemed to smell a little different, although that may have been Jim's imagination.
The bridge crew was almost exactly the same Alpha shift as Jim would have found on his own ship, which felt surreal. Sulu and Chekov sat at the helm, keeping an eye on their orbit of the planet they were currently visiting. Lt. Breen manned tactical, apparently doing a maintenance checklist. Uhura sat at her station with the receiver in her ear, staring openly at Jim and Bones (and if she was the same as his Uhura, probably having a little mental breakdown at the sight). Other-Jim slouched comfortably in the captain's chair. The only difference was the science officer: Jim recognized Dr. Tournay from his science supervisory team seated at the bridge science console. And then there was the Romulan Livok, standing at parade rest beside the captain's chair. He turned to face them as they walked onto the bridge with Petty Officer Jones still trailing behind.
“Find your away team yet?” Jim asked conversationally.
Other-Jim spun his chair around. “No,” he frowned. “We've figured out that they still exist-so that's something-but we can't get a lock on their signal and they're not responding to hails.”
Annoyed as he was with his counterpart for his treatment of Spock, Jim couldn't help some sympathy for the situation. “They're still alive,” he said. “The crew of this ship is smart and capable. I know that firsthand.”
“Don't get mushy on us,” Bones muttered.
Other-Jim smiled tightly, and was about to speak when Uhura cut him off.
“Captain,” she said, her voice sharp with urgency, “incoming transmission. Origins appear to be a Vulcan ship.”
The whole bridge went tense.
“Put it on the main screen,” Other-Jim said.
They were faced with the bridge of an alien ship, all grey and brown angles and arranged to maximum efficiency for its crew, seen zipping around in the background. The captain of the ship, filling the screen, drew Jim's attention; he was filled with horrified fascination.
Spock stared coldly back at them. He was dressed in a dark, high-collared, wrapped tunic, littered with Vulcan decorations.
Livok made a gesture and Jim and Bones were unceremoniously yanked back into the shadows of the Enterprise bridge by Jones, out of sight of the camera pickup.
“Captain Kirk, I presume,” Other-Spock said, fixing his stark gaze on Other-Jim. His voice had the same toneless quality as Spock's did when he was delivering a report or being particularly sarcastic.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” said Other-Jim amicably, shifting in his chair.
“I believe you have waylaid four of your crew. We found them for you.”
Other-Jim straightened. “If you've laid a hand on them-”
“They remain alive. Considering we know one of them to be a Lieutenant Commander holding an important position on your ship, their continued survival is presumably worth something to you. Beyond your usual illogically high regard for human life, that is.”
“Hostages, Spock? I thought you had more style than that.”
Livok stepped forward. “Captain, a word.”
The feed was muted on the Enterprise's end and Other-Jim spun his chair away from the screen. Other-Spock looked faintly amused and settled back to wait.
“Jim,” Livok said urgently, “we have a bargaining chip.”
“Like what?” Other-Jim asked, even as the implications settled in for Jim, still tucked away in the corner. Bones gripped his shoulder fiercely, whether in support or to keep him from bursting out of their hiding place, Jim didn't know.
“We have a captive Vulcan in the brig,” Livok said. “One that'll fascinate the shit out of these nei'rrh.”
Other-Jim looked right at Jim as he answered. “That's not on the table,” he said.
“You're going to risk four of our crew rather than give up a Vulcan?”
“I said, it's not on the fucking table, Commander,” Other-Jim snapped.
Livok straightened immediately, his hands going behind his back. “Sir.”
Jim sagged against Bones in relief as Other-Jim spun his chair back to the viewscreen, signalling Uhura to unmute the transmission.
“What are your terms?” Other-Jim asked, glaring at Other-Spock.
“We have an interest in this planet,” Other-Spock responded smoothly. “Agree to leave now and we will not only return your lost crew, we will also not fire upon your ship and kill the rest of you.”
“Our lives are cheap to Starfleet, you know.”
Other-Spock inclined his head slightly. “Naturally. However, if you are dead, we will still have this planet, and the Federation will have one less starship.”
The two men had a silent staring contest for several moments. Finally, Other-Jim burst out of his chair. “I'll call you back in thirty minutes with a decision,” he said. “Lieutenant, terminate the transmission.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, and the screen cut out on Other-Spock with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in his eyes.
Other-Jim stormed off the bridge. Livok, surprisingly, stayed behind, taking the conn.
Jim turned to Jones, who still had her phaser drawn. “I want to go talk to your captain,” he said.
She looked nervous. “I don't think he-”
“Just fucking take me to him, Ms. Jones,” Jim said. The correct use of her name clearly threw her; she dithered for a moment before finally waving them into the turbolift.
She looked at the controls. “He's probably...”
“I know exactly where he is,” Jim said, reaching past her to punch the button for Deck Twelve. Bones smartly kept off to the side, keeping his mouth shut for a change. There was a reason he was Jim's best friend.
Other-Jim was leaning against the window of Observation Deck C in an eerie imitation of how Jim himself often did; his arm was braced above his head as his forehead pressed against the clear surface, watching the stars. He didn't move when Jim entered, leaving Bones and the petty officer in the hallway.
“Livok, would you just-”
“He's got the conn,” Jim said.
Other-Jim straightened and turned a little to look at him. “We're pretty similar, aren't we?” he said after a minute.
Jim wasn't going to hold his breath, but he could concede a little. He walked over to the window and leaned a shoulder on it. “Nice and quiet in here.”
“Just your thoughts and the black,” Other-Jim agreed.
“What are you going to do?”
His counterpart sighed. “Nice trap he sprang around us. We've got no choice but to turn tail and run, and hope he's as honourable as Vulcans pretend to be.”
“My Spock's fantastic at chess,” said Jim, having nothing to say about Vulcan honour.
“That sure explains a lot.” Other-Jim rubbed at his eyes and sagged against the wall. “We'll release your Spock,” he said. “I got a report from Scotty just before you hit the bridge; he's almost got the problem figured out.”
“Thanks,” Jim said.
Other-Jim shrugged. “If I can't trust my own judgement, I'm probably fucked anyway. You're not evil, right?”
Jim had another crazy image of Spock with a beard. “Not the last time I checked, no.”
Other-Jim glanced at his chronometer. “We just have time to free your first officer before I have to go surrender the planet.” He clapped Jim on the shoulder. “Shall we?”
They left the observation deck, collecting Bones and dismissing Petty Officer Jones before filing into the turbolift and heading for the brig.
Spock was gone when they got there. Other-Jim whirled on the lieutenant on duty. “You seem to have misplaced a prisoner,” he said with just a slight edge to his voice.
The lieutenant quailed. “N-no, sir, Captain. Cdr. Livok ordered him brought to the bridge fifteen minutes ago.”
The three men shared a look of dread before taking off for the turbolift. Other-Jim hailed the bridge on his communicator as they ran. Uhura picked up.
“Where's Livok?” he demanded.
“Transporter room, Captain,” she said.
“What's going on, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, he hailed the Vulcans about five minutes after you left and made a deal to trade the hostages for the Vulcan prisoner.” She paused. “The prisoner looked just like the Vulcan Spock, sir.”
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he said succinctly, ending the call to hail the transporter room instead. They were in the turbolift, rocketing down to that deck, when Scotty picked up. Jim paced the tiny space inside the lift as Other-Jim talked and Bones looked back and forth between them in worry.
“Mr. Scott, this is Kirk. I require an immediate update on the situation in the transporter room.”
“Captain, the Vulcans have disabled their transport disruptors and I'm preparing to beam our crewmembers back over here now that I've got their signal.”
“What deal did Mr. Livok make?” he hissed, as the turbolift doors opened and he stalked down the hallway, Jim and Bones following.
“I was informed that we're trading the Vulcan prisoner for our crew, sir. They've agreed to leave the system once they've got him.”
They were going to lose Spock to a bunch of crazy Vulcans, and they'd never get him back.
“If you want to keep your first officer,” Jim growled at his counterpart, “don't let me anywhere near him.”
“Once a Romulan, always a Romulan,” Bones agreed.
They barged into the transporter room to see Livok at the controls, preparing to beam Spock, who was being held at gunpoint on the transporter pad. The away team had beamed back and was being attended to in the corner by a medical team, including Other-Bones.
“Stand down, Commander,” Other-Jim said, stopping a few feet away from the control console.
“Captain, we have to uphold our end of the deal,” said Livok.
“I ordered you to stand down.”
“They've got weapons trained on the ship; I have five minutes to beam him over.”
Jim could see Other-Jim thinking quickly. He looked up and they locked eyes.
“Yeah,” Jim said with a nod. “It's the best plan we've got.” And he brushed past the phalanx of security to hop up on the pad next to Spock.
Bones and Spock both gave him incredulous looks and spoke at the same time.
“Captain, this is highly-”
“Jim, what do you think you're-”
“Two to beam, Mr. Livok,” Other-Jim said authoritatively. “And then we're going to discuss your punishment for insubordination. Energize.”
“Keep an eye on things for us over here, Bones,” Jim said as he started to dematerialize. “We'll be back before you know it.”
They beamed right onto the bridge of the Vulcan ship, in front of the captain's chair. Weapons were drawn immediately.
“There are two! It is a trap!” said an officer.
Other-Spock held up a hand for silence. He kept looking between Jim and Spock, as if he wasn't sure who was more interesting.
“I am quite sure that I did not ask for the captain of the Enterprise in this exchange of hostages. What good fortune.”
“I'm not the captain of that ship,” Jim said, glad his voice sounded strong and confident. There was an air of... something... about this Spock, in person, something that utterly failed to put him at ease, unlike the one he knew.
“Is this some human joke? I do not understand such low forms of humour.”
Jim straightened a little; talking, he reminded himself, was one of his strong points, and distracting Spock moreso. “Oh, I'm definitely James Kirk. But I'm not the captain of that ship.” He raised an eyebrow, mockingly. “What, there can be two of you but there can't be two of me?”
“I suppose you make a reasonable point. But what are you doing here?”
“Where he goes, I go.” Jim glanced over at Spock, who was a blank slate. “I have to say, I was hoping for a better welcome than this.”
“I cannot imagine a Vulcan associating with a human,” Other-Spock said. “And we certainly have no use for humans aboard this ship. I should have you killed.”
Jim looked shocked. “Spock! What would your mother think?”
The room seemed to go cold. “My mother?”
Jim barely managed to keep his face innocent. “Amanda!” he said. Then he looked around at the assembled Vulcans, most of whom looked faintly puzzled by the exchange. “Oh,” he said, “my bad! Was that a secret?”
Other-Spock stared at him for a moment before making a curt gesture; someone stepped up behind Jim and the last thought he had was, 'ah-nerve pinch,' before everything went dark.
***
Jim woke up in the brig, inside a tiny cell with one whole wall consisting of a transparent forcefield, from the looks of it; everything on the other side looked faintly distorted from certain angles.
There was a Spock standing patiently on the other side, but he was dressed in Vulcan clothing so Jim wasn't sure that it was his first officer.
“Sometimes, Jim, you are an idiot.”
Ah.
“Only sometimes?” he asked, sitting upright and stretching the kinks out. His neck felt like there was a knot in it.
Spock crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I have merely become accustomed to it.”
“That could be,” he agreed. “What's with the duds? You going native?”
Spock looked blank for a moment; Jim could tell he was translating the idioms in his head. Then he looked down at himself. “They insisted I should change out of my human clothing, perhaps so that they might destroy it. It seemed wisest to appear cooperative.” He dragged over a chair from the corner and sat in front of Jim's cell. “Presumably due to my Vulcan appearance and uncanny resemblance to the captain of this ship, I have been granted the same freedom to move about the ship as a member of the crew would have. I believe they assume that I will be loyal to them out of a sense of belonging to the species.” He raised an eyebrow.
“My freedom, at any rate, has allowed me to mingle with the crew, and I have managed to discern the source of divergence in this timeline,” he said. “It was indeed a failure of the Syrranite reform; Syrran and T'Pau were both assassinated early in the resistance and it fell shortly afterwards.”
T'Pau, Jim knew, was the matriarch or something of Spock's family. “Sorry to hear that.”
Spock shrugged. “She still lives in our proper time.” He glanced behind him to be sure they were alone before continuing. “My counterpart seems to be having some difficulty with the rumours now circulating the ship. Your outburst on the bridge had quite an effect.”
Jim grinned. “That's the great thing about xenophobes; it's easy to weaken the ranks with a few nasty rumours about peoples' mothers. Whether they're true or not.”
“I believe they must be as true in this timeline as they are in our own,” Spock said. He paused. “More than one thing is true of both.”
Spock had obviously learned about the death of Vulcan in this timeline, too. Jim didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
“You made reference to a plan of some kind before we left the Enterprise,” Spock said finally. “Did it go beyond infuriating this ship's captain and being imprisoned?”
“It actually went that far, and then past that, to breaking out of this cell and dismantling the transport disruptors, so that we could be beamed back.”
“You do not think I could manage that on my own, given their trust of my Vulcan status?”
“Probably,” Jim said. “But I couldn't just let you go on your own; a captain doesn't abandon his crew to the enemy. Besides, you and I are a team.”
Spock frowned at him and stood. “I must go,” he said. “I will see what can be done about freeing you, or at least keeping you alive.”
“Be ready when I bust out,” Jim called after him.
***
Jim looked, but didn't see an opportunity in the next twenty-four hours to make his escape. He wasn't sure whether to feel hopeful or doomed when he woke up to the sound of several Vulcans outside.
“Bring him out,” a familiar voice said. Jim opened his eyes and looked up to see Other-Spock in the doorway as three personnel brought Jim out, his hands bound behind him.
“Hi, Spock!” Jim said brightly. “How's your mom?”
Other-Spock ignored him. “Take him to the bridge.” He strode ahead through the sand-coloured corridors while Jim was frog-marched along by two guards, the third holding a phaser levelled at his back.
Jim made further attempts to bait him all the way to the bridge, but it was as if he didn't exist. No one could ignore people like a Vulcan. Still, he hoped when they got to the bridge, an opportunity might present itself to escape with Spock.
There was no sign of Spock on the bridge; it must have been third shift because the bridge crew was small.
“Leave us,” Other-Spock said to the guards. He pulled out a phaser. “I wish to speak with the human.”
They left quickly. Other-Spock turned to the rest of the bridge and declared, “All other non-essential personnel are also dismissed.”
All but three-helm, navigation and communications, Jim guessed-obediently got up and filed out without a word or even a curious look. They were the best Vulcans Jim had ever seen. He felt anxious to see that they were now basically alone; the three remaining officers practically made themselves invisible, focused on their tasks. Other-Spock gave him that cold stare, phaser in hand. Jim started to wonder if he was going to be executed after all, on the bridge. Maybe Other-Spock would hail the Enterprise first and show them the whole thing. He would have expected a bigger Vulcan audience, though.
Other-Spock grabbed his arm and nearly tugged him right off his feet, yanking him toward the captain's chair. Jim watched as he punched three buttons and then said something in Vulcan, some alphanumeric code probably, and the computer declared that the entire bridge was going into lockdown.
Jim froze. So did the three remaining officers, right before their captain shot them all with the phaser. They slumped in their chairs, stunned unconscious.
“We do not have much time,” Spock said, removing Jim's restraints. “You go hail the Enterprise while I disable the transport disruptors for our escape.”
Jim turned around and stared. The Vulcan in front of him was wearing the captain's uniform and looking as impassive as ever, but he looked a little tight around the eyes, antsy maybe. What were the odds that this was a trick?
“Spock?” he tried.
“We have no time, Jim.”
Jim didn't move. “Tell me it's you, and I'm not beaming a sociopath onto a Starfleet ship.”
Spock came close and grabbed his hand. “Jim. You are frequently an idiot, but I have become accustomed to you and do not wish to train another captain in your place. We must hurry.”
He was a little staggered by the warm look in Spock's eyes. “Hey,” he said, his voice cracking a little as his first thoughts emerged from his mouth, “earlier you said it was only sometimes.”
“Jim.”
“Going!” Jim ran to the communications station, pushing aside the slumped Vulcan to access the controls. It took some doing, but he finally figured out how to input the hail for the Enterprise, using his command code (and hoping it might be the same).
He was in luck; Uhura's sweet voice came through. “Requesting confirmation of identity.”
Jim grinned. “Captain authorization code seven-three-romeo-delta-two.”
“Close enough. Is that you and your friend ready for a rescue, Captain Kirk?”
“Sure is, Lieutenant. Two to beam as soon as you can grab us.”
“Transport disruptors are disabled,” Spock said, coming to join him at the comm link.
There was a pause. “We've got a lock on you. Sir. Grab your friend.”
Jim took Spock's hand and squeezed as they were beamed back to their-well, not quite their-ship.
Bones and Other-Jim were waiting in the transporter room when they got back, dropping each others' hands quickly.
“Thank Christ,” Bones said. “I was having an aneurysm.”
“We're not even wounded this time!” Jim said. He turned to Spock. “You're not wounded, right?”
“No, Captain, I am not.”
“Awesome! Are we going back to where we belong, then?”
“I've just got a few tweaks to make, and then you're off,” Scotty said from the control panel. He promptly ripped the casing off of it and crawled underneath with a screwdriver.
“Did he have to put it back together to beam us up?” Jim asked.
“Only a little,” said Other-Jim. “Drink?”
They strolled to the officers' lounge. “Where's Livok?” Jim dared ask.
“Suspended.”
A concise answer; Jim left that one alone.
“Why are you dressed like one of the crazy hobgoblins, Spock?” Bones asked, poking at one of the decorations on the front of his uniform. This got Jim's attention.
“Yeah,” he said. “Those were some slick moves. Share your secrets.”
They entered the lounge, which was empty, and sat down. “It was simple enough, given that I appeared to be identical in every way to its captain, and that they clearly considered the possibility of my non-loyalty to be illogical.” Spock said. “I merely waited for him to invite me for a private conversation, which was nearly inevitable. Once in his quarters, with his guard down as much as it was ever likely to be, I was able to subdue him, render him unconscious, and lock him in his bathroom. Then I put on his uniform and assumed his identity.” He paused.
“It was difficult to act so volatile,” he said. “I begin to wonder if the Vulcans of our timeline turned to pacifism in part because an attitude of constant, restrained violence is tiring to maintain.”
Jim grinned at Bones. “He took the bridge hostage. It was fun to watch.”
“On the contrary, Captain, you were as confused as the Vulcans.”
Jim blushed a little. “Well, it's fun to remember. You're too good an actor, I guess.”
He turned to Other-Jim, who was watching them in bemusement. “So I guess you might want to steer clear of your Spock for a while,” Jim said. “I doubt he's pleased.”
“If I ever saw him pleased, I'd fear for my life and ship,” Other-Jim said. “Well, I'm glad it worked out okay, and I'm sorry for... all of this.”
Jim shrugged. “These things happen. Mostly to us.”
Other-Jim burst out laughing. “I think some things never change, no matter what universe you're in.”
Jim looked at Spock, who raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “More than you'd expect, maybe.” He shook his head. “Anyway. How's Scotty doing?”
Scotty was about finished, mad genius that he was, and so they trooped back to the transporter room. Other-Bones stopped in to say goodbye as Jim shook hands with his counterpart. “Good luck, and thanks,” Jim said.
“I don't know why you're thanking me for the trouble you've gone through, but I'll take all the luck I can get,” Other-Jim said. “Good luck to you, too. I don't think I envy you, having Romulans on the other team. And thanks for introducing me to a decent Vulcan. I hope there's more out there.”
Spock stepped forward to offer the Vulcan salute, which Other-Jim and Other-Bones blinked at. “Live long and prosper,” he said.
Other-Jim grinned. “Back at ya.”
“Here goes nothing,” Scotty said, once they were situated on the transporter pad. “Energizing.”
When the gold haze disappeared, Jim was staring at another transporter room. Discreetly crossing his fingers, he turned to the gobsmacked Scotty.
“What the fuck is wrong with this thing!” Scotty said all of a sudden. “It's supposed to be beaming you down to Rigel IV and instead it's changing your clothes!”
Jim jumped off the pad, a broad grin pulling at his face. “You know what, don't worry about it. We're going to make our excuses instead. Bones? Spock?”
“Coming, Captain.”
“Finally, I can get out of this ridiculous monkey suit.”
Jim laughed all the way to the turbolift.
THE END
Pairing: Kirk/Spock preslash
Rating: R for profanity
Warnings: None, except a cracky premise
Notes: Written for a prompt on startrek_crack. Also fills 'meeting AU counterparts' for Cliché Bingo. BINGO FOR ME. Beta-read by rhaegal. I think I sort of hate this, but... whatever. I can't look at it anymore. The title is horrible and partly comes from “Mirror, Mirror”.
Summary: Kirk, Spock and McCoy get transported into a universe where Vulcans are the 'bad guys' and Romulans are in the Federation.
Spock and Bones were already waiting on the transporter pad when Jim came in at a jog.
“Sorry, guys,” he said as he hopped up onto the pad, his polished shoes squeaking. “Little delay; Uhura had a question about some communiques from Starfleet before we left.”
Bones scowled. “You're full of shit, Jim. You just wanted me to suffer in this uniform as long as possible.”
“But you look so damn good in your dress blues, Bones,” Jim said with a wink. He took advantage of the moment of speechlessness he'd won with that remark to turn his attention to Scotty at the transporter controls. “Well, the party's waiting for us, Scotty. Energize.”
“Aye, Captain. Have fun and have a drink or three for me, boys.”
“McCoy will have at least five, just for you,” Jim said, before his lips dematerialized.
He blinked when the scenery reformed around them; they were supposed to be on the surface of Rigel IV, in the designated arrival area for the conference. Instead, they were still on the transporter pad, and Scotty was staring at them.
“Please tell me this isn't some kind of weird revenge for that poker game,” Jim said.
“Captain?” Scotty sputtered. “What are you doing here? In your dress uniform?”
“Trying to get beamed down to the conference! Let's go!” He'd come back with a bottle of Rigellian single-barrel as an apology for the poker game thing, if he had to.
“You're supposed to be on the bridge,” said Scotty. “I just beamed down the landing party. Where the bloody hell do you suppose they've gone?” He finally looked at McCoy and Spock. “You too, Doctor? And who the buggering fuck is that?”
Jim spun on his heel to make sure it was definitely Spock being sworn about. Spock raised an eyebrow.
“Jesus Christ, is that a fucking Vulcan?”
'No kidding,' Jim opened his mouth to say, but Scotty had already hit the emergency call button for Security.
“Intruders in the transporter room.”
A five-man team stormed into the room in under thirty seconds, phasers drawn, and Jim wasn't sure if he was more proud or scared when they recognized him and kept their weapons levelled anyway. He stepped back to draw even with Spock and Bones, raising his hands slowly as they did the same.
“Scott to bridge. We have a situation.”
“Captain,” Spock said in an undertone, “this is not our Enterprise.”
“Are you sure?” Jim answered just as quietly, eyeing Lt. Giotto.
“It is unquestionably a version of the Enterprise, but there are minuscule aesthetic differences from our own ship,” Spock murmured. “I believe there has been a transporter malfunction of some kind, which has likely sent us into a different dimension.”
Jim had a sudden, vivid image of Spock with a beard and wondered where it came from. He shook his head lightly to dispel it; these strange flashes came and went since he'd taken the captaincy.
“What do we do?” he asked.
“I believe we should wait for the captain to arrive, at which point we may discern what is going on. I am led to understand that the captain of this ship is quite an open-minded and reasonable person.”
Jim shot a sideways glance at him but Spock's face was as expressionless as ever.
“Still stuck in this hell-spawned dress uniform,” Bones muttered from his other side.
“Well,” Jim said brightly, “they won't have to redress you if we die here.”
They weren't kept waiting long; it was about two minutes before footsteps echoed in the corridor and the door opened to reveal... Jim. He stopped dead in the doorway, staring, and Jim stared back. Damn, he looked better in gold than he'd thought. Bones might have been right about him needing to start eating better, though.
Other-Jim finally snapped out of his trance, stepping aside to allow his companion into the room. The only thing about the first officer that looked familiar was the pointy ears. Jim blinked.
“That is a Romulan,” Spock murmured. “Note the brow ridges.”
What the hell kind of universe had they beamed into?
Other-Jim and the Romulan looked at each other for a moment and then advanced as one toward the transporter pad, scattering the security team to the edges of the room.
“Is this some kind of joke?” Other-Jim said. “Scotty, I apologized for the poker game. That was a big fucking bottle of Romulan ale.”
“I forgave you, Captain, and this is no joke. They appeared as soon as I finished beaming the away team.”
Other-Jim whipped around to face Scotty. “What happened to the away team? Can you get a signal?”
Scotty played with some controls. “I'll hail Uhura, see if she can make contact with them,” he muttered.
“Captain,” said the Romulan, “that's the Vulcan Spock to... your right.”
“Oh. Well, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it?” Other-Jim turned to Giotto. “Stun and lock up the Vulcan; leave one of your people to keep an eye on... the other two... for me. Probably a good idea not to underestimate them.”
Giotto stunned Spock before Jim could do anything to stop it; he lunged forward to catch his friend before he hit his head on the ground.
“Back away from the Vulcan,” Giotto said, jumping up onto the platform and aiming his phaser at Jim. Jim watched helplessly as Spock's unconscious form was pulled away and restrained, to be dragged off by four of the security personnel.
“Where are you taking him?” he demanded.
His other self gave him a confused look. “To the brig?”
“He didn't fucking do anything! He's my first officer!” He couldn't stop his voice from rising; Bones reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, in case he was going to leap off the transporter pad and attack himself or something.
Everyone else in the transporter room stared at him in shocked silence. “We need to talk,” Other-Jim said eventually. “We're going to Sickbay; I need Bones in on this. Mr. Livok, go to the bridge and relieve Mr. Sulu. I'll update you later,” he said, seeing that the Romulan was about to protest.
Petty Officer Jones, their remaining security detail, gestured with her phaser for them to step off the platform, and they were marched through the ship by Other-Jim to Sickbay, where Other-Bones saw them and promptly dropped his tricorder on the floor.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Jim and Other-Jim both grinned as Bones and Other-Bones stared at each other.
“The number of sane people on the Enterprise just doubled,” Bones said finally.
Other-Bones stooped to pick up his tricorder, examining it to see if he'd broken it. “If your Jim's anything like my Jim, that's not going to be enough,” he groused.
“Check them out, Bones, and make sure they're who they seem to be,” said Other-Jim.
“So you brought us here for a reason besides making Bones crazy,” said Jim, hopping up to sit on the nearest biobed, his medals clinking on his chest. Other-Bones advanced on him with the tricorder and a menacing look.
“You can never be too careful,” Other-Jim said, lounging against a wall.
They checked out as human (although Bones was a lot less willing to be scanned than Jim would have thought, especially since it was by himself) and relocated to the CMO's office, where Other-Bones assured them there would be bourbon for everyone.
Jim got down to business as soon as they were seated. “I demand you release my first officer and return him to us.”
“Damn right,” Bones said, surprising the hell out of Jim. “And what kind of backwards-land is this, where you've got Romulans in Starfleet?” He paused, frowning at the familiar insignias on their counterparts' chests. “This is still Starfleet, right?”
Other-Jim crossed his arms and studied them from his perch on the edge of Other-Bones' desk. “The Romulans are founding members of the Federation of Planets and some of our closest allies against galactic threats like the Vulcans.” He took in their twin looks of shock and confusion and frowned. “It's the other way around where you're from, isn't it?” he said slowly.
“Earth's First Contact was with the Vulcans,” Jim said.
“And they didn't try to conquer you?”
“No.” The thought of any Vulcan setting out to conquer something besides their own emotions was shorting out his brain a little bit. “They're pretty live-and-let-live.”
“I think I want to live in your universe,” Other-Jim said, raising his eyebrows. “For one thing, your dress uniforms are nicer.”
Bones scowled at the reminder that he was still wearing his, and grabbed his bourbon to swallow half of it in one go.
“All right,” Other-Jim said, “here's the short version: our Vulcans are cold, ruthless fascists on a quest to subjugate the Milky Way. The Romulans apparently weren't much better, once upon a time, but since the Vulcans are their mortal enemies and posed a threat to their way of life, they stepped in before Earth could be conquered. Along with Earth, Andoria and Tellar, they helped form the Federation and keep the Vulcans at bay.
“We've gone to war a few times since then, until finally about ten years ago, Praetor Colius talked the Federation President and the Council into an aggressive strike. A volunteer team of Romulans shot a trilithium bomb into 40 Eridani and made it go supernova, which destroyed Vulcan.” Other-Jim frowned and Other-Bones muttered something unintelligible into his glass. “Now there's only a handful of them left; whoever was off-planet at the time, on their warships and outposts. Things have calmed down a lot, but Spock is one of their most decorated officers and just about the most ruthless son of a bitch I've ever had the misfortune to meet in battle.”
The facts rattled around Jim's brain for quite a while, unable to sort themselves into some kind of sense. “But Spock's half-human,” he blurted.
Other-Jim and Other-Bones both stared at him. “What?”
Silently, he cursed his big mouth. “You... you didn't know that?” He thought. “It might not be true in this timeline, I guess....”
Other-Jim reached for the comm. “Kirk to bridge.”
“Captain,” came Livok's voice.
“I need you in McCoy's office,” he said.
“On my way.”
Jim buried his head in his hands. Bones took another long drink.
Livok was there in no time. “What's up?” he asked.
“What do you know about Spock?” Other-Jim asked him immediately.
“Besides that he's an asshole?” Livok glanced at Jim, who was sure he still looked dumbstruck, and pushed up the sleeve of his uniform. “Fucker gave me this scar,” he said.
Jim looked at it; it was a thick, white line of scar tissue that ran all the way up his forearm. “That's... I'm sorry,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
“Yeah.” Livok pushed his sleeve back down. “Can't say much more about him than most Vulcans, Jim,” he continued, looking back at his captain. “They keep everything pretty quiet.”
“Would you definitely say that the Vulcan in the transporter room was Spock?” Other-Jim asked.
“Without question. He was the spitting image.”
“Every detail?”
“What? Yes.”
Other-Jim cocked an eyebrow in a manner that reminded Jim crazily of Spock. “He's half-human.”
“Look,” Jim interrupted, “that's not necessarily true here, all right? You don't know-” He broke off mid-sentence, because Livok was giving him a look that made him distinctly uncomfortable.
“You know a lot about Vulcans, don't you, Jim? Can I call you Jim?”
“He's not your Jim,” Bones snapped. “Show a senior officer some goddamn respect.”
Livok raised his hands. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Captain Kirk.”
“Look,” said Jim, starting to get to his feet, “I'm not telling you shit, because this is none of our business and it would probably violate the Prime Directive somehow, if they knew it could possibly happen. So if you'll excuse us, I think we'll just grab Spock and go see if your Mr. Scott's found a way to send us back.”
Livok's hand pressed heavily on his shoulder, forcing him back down. “We can't let him go, Captain Kirk. He's dangerous.”
“He's unconscious,” Jim said, “and you'll let us go see him or I will show you dangerous.” He knew this ship like the back of his hand, he was willing to bet.
“Hey,” Other-Jim cut in, interrupting the undercurrent of violence that was beginning to fill the office. “We all know I can't deny myself anything. We'll go check on your Spock, and then maybe we'll talk some more. Okay?” He grinned disarmingly; Jim recognized it as one of the better ones in his arsenal.
“Maybe,” he agreed, shrugging off Livok's hand and standing up.
***
Spock was awake again when they got to the brig, perched on the edge of the bed in his cell and clutching his head in both hands. Jim remembered with sympathy that phaser stuns sometimes caused headaches as an after-effect.
“Spock,” he said, approaching the bars with Bones at his side. Spock looked up and got unsteadily to his feet to join them.
“Captain, have you been able to discover what has happened?” he asked, blinking against the strong lights. The guard on duty dropped the part of the forcefield that formed the door and Bones immediately slipped through, into the cell. He produced a penlight from nowhere and started checking Spock's pupils through the bars as Jim answered.
“Yeah,” Jim said in an undertone, “we're definitely in another timeline. The Romulans are in the Federation and the Vulcans are basically the Romulans, I think.” He thought about sharing the details about Spock himself but hesitated; Spock spoke again before Jim could come to a decision, batting away Bones' light.
“Doctor, I am quite well, I assure you. Captain, what precisely has happened here? The thought of Vulcans behaving in the manner of our timeline's Romulans is difficult to imagine.”
Jim crossed his arms, studying Spock carefully, but he wasn't even squinting against the lights anymore so he must have been improving. “Apparently when the Vulcans made First Contact with Earth, they tried to take us over. The Federation was formed to fend them off. They were described to us as a bunch of warlike, fascist bastards.”
Spock looked lost in thought for a moment. “It is true that our race was once inexpressibly violent, but the teachings of Surak curbed those instincts and helped Vulcans to advance as a civilization. There was a time of uncertainty, approximately a century ago, but the Syrranite movement refreshed our aims of peace and non-interference with other species.”
Jim pondered this. “Maybe there were no Syrranites here?”
“It is possible that this would have been enough to diverge the timeline,” Spock agreed. “However, there is insufficient data at this time to draw conclusions. Perhaps if we could be allowed access to the ship's databanks... but if the Vulcans are not members of the Federation in this timeline, then it is unlikely that much knowledge of them exists among other species. At any rate, it is purely a matter of curiosity and not relevant to our goals of returning to our own timeline.”
“About that,” Jim said. “They don't want to release you.”
Spock stared at him.
“They think you're going to freak out and kill everyone or something. I don't know.”
“Because I am Vulcan? Have you explained our pacifist ways to our hosts?”
Now Jim couldn't see a way to avoid the topic, anymore. “Not so much that,” he admitted. “There's actually a Spock in this timeline.”
“They do appear to know who I am, even though I apparently do not work on this ship. Fascinating. Is the Spock of this timeline a source of concern for Starfleet?”
“He sounds like a real piece of work,” Jim said, knowing he was prevaricating. “I guess he's like, a higher-up in the Vulcan military.”
Spock looked away, his expression faintly tight. “Unfortunately, Jim, you have been party to emotional outbursts from me in the past. I doubt it is difficult for you to imagine my likely behaviour, if I had not been raised to observe cultural values of pacifism and emotional self-control.”
That was true, and after seeing the scar on Livok's arm, Jim wasn't sure he'd like to cross paths with the Spock of this timeline. He did have a talent for pissing Spock off, after all.
“I'm glad you're okay,” he said, changing the subject. “I'm going to do my damnedest to get you freed as soon as possible. In the meantime, try to get some rest and I'll make sure they're treating you right.”
“I will trust that the Mr. Scott of this timeline is as capable as our own, and will shortly manufacture a solution to the problem.” Spock made his way back over to his cot and lay down, apparently planning to sleep off the remnants of his headache.
Jim and Bones were escorted out of the brig by Petty Officer Jones and taken up to the bridge, where the captain and his first officer had gone back to work. Jim looked around as they stepped out of the turbolift; Spock had been right about there being little differences between this ship and their own. Now that Jim had been here for a while, he was starting to notice them: different computer controls here and there, a slightly different contour to the consoles. The air seemed to smell a little different, although that may have been Jim's imagination.
The bridge crew was almost exactly the same Alpha shift as Jim would have found on his own ship, which felt surreal. Sulu and Chekov sat at the helm, keeping an eye on their orbit of the planet they were currently visiting. Lt. Breen manned tactical, apparently doing a maintenance checklist. Uhura sat at her station with the receiver in her ear, staring openly at Jim and Bones (and if she was the same as his Uhura, probably having a little mental breakdown at the sight). Other-Jim slouched comfortably in the captain's chair. The only difference was the science officer: Jim recognized Dr. Tournay from his science supervisory team seated at the bridge science console. And then there was the Romulan Livok, standing at parade rest beside the captain's chair. He turned to face them as they walked onto the bridge with Petty Officer Jones still trailing behind.
“Find your away team yet?” Jim asked conversationally.
Other-Jim spun his chair around. “No,” he frowned. “We've figured out that they still exist-so that's something-but we can't get a lock on their signal and they're not responding to hails.”
Annoyed as he was with his counterpart for his treatment of Spock, Jim couldn't help some sympathy for the situation. “They're still alive,” he said. “The crew of this ship is smart and capable. I know that firsthand.”
“Don't get mushy on us,” Bones muttered.
Other-Jim smiled tightly, and was about to speak when Uhura cut him off.
“Captain,” she said, her voice sharp with urgency, “incoming transmission. Origins appear to be a Vulcan ship.”
The whole bridge went tense.
“Put it on the main screen,” Other-Jim said.
They were faced with the bridge of an alien ship, all grey and brown angles and arranged to maximum efficiency for its crew, seen zipping around in the background. The captain of the ship, filling the screen, drew Jim's attention; he was filled with horrified fascination.
Spock stared coldly back at them. He was dressed in a dark, high-collared, wrapped tunic, littered with Vulcan decorations.
Livok made a gesture and Jim and Bones were unceremoniously yanked back into the shadows of the Enterprise bridge by Jones, out of sight of the camera pickup.
“Captain Kirk, I presume,” Other-Spock said, fixing his stark gaze on Other-Jim. His voice had the same toneless quality as Spock's did when he was delivering a report or being particularly sarcastic.
“To what do we owe the pleasure?” said Other-Jim amicably, shifting in his chair.
“I believe you have waylaid four of your crew. We found them for you.”
Other-Jim straightened. “If you've laid a hand on them-”
“They remain alive. Considering we know one of them to be a Lieutenant Commander holding an important position on your ship, their continued survival is presumably worth something to you. Beyond your usual illogically high regard for human life, that is.”
“Hostages, Spock? I thought you had more style than that.”
Livok stepped forward. “Captain, a word.”
The feed was muted on the Enterprise's end and Other-Jim spun his chair away from the screen. Other-Spock looked faintly amused and settled back to wait.
“Jim,” Livok said urgently, “we have a bargaining chip.”
“Like what?” Other-Jim asked, even as the implications settled in for Jim, still tucked away in the corner. Bones gripped his shoulder fiercely, whether in support or to keep him from bursting out of their hiding place, Jim didn't know.
“We have a captive Vulcan in the brig,” Livok said. “One that'll fascinate the shit out of these nei'rrh.”
Other-Jim looked right at Jim as he answered. “That's not on the table,” he said.
“You're going to risk four of our crew rather than give up a Vulcan?”
“I said, it's not on the fucking table, Commander,” Other-Jim snapped.
Livok straightened immediately, his hands going behind his back. “Sir.”
Jim sagged against Bones in relief as Other-Jim spun his chair back to the viewscreen, signalling Uhura to unmute the transmission.
“What are your terms?” Other-Jim asked, glaring at Other-Spock.
“We have an interest in this planet,” Other-Spock responded smoothly. “Agree to leave now and we will not only return your lost crew, we will also not fire upon your ship and kill the rest of you.”
“Our lives are cheap to Starfleet, you know.”
Other-Spock inclined his head slightly. “Naturally. However, if you are dead, we will still have this planet, and the Federation will have one less starship.”
The two men had a silent staring contest for several moments. Finally, Other-Jim burst out of his chair. “I'll call you back in thirty minutes with a decision,” he said. “Lieutenant, terminate the transmission.”
“Aye, sir,” she said, and the screen cut out on Other-Spock with a raised eyebrow and a twinkle in his eyes.
Other-Jim stormed off the bridge. Livok, surprisingly, stayed behind, taking the conn.
Jim turned to Jones, who still had her phaser drawn. “I want to go talk to your captain,” he said.
She looked nervous. “I don't think he-”
“Just fucking take me to him, Ms. Jones,” Jim said. The correct use of her name clearly threw her; she dithered for a moment before finally waving them into the turbolift.
She looked at the controls. “He's probably...”
“I know exactly where he is,” Jim said, reaching past her to punch the button for Deck Twelve. Bones smartly kept off to the side, keeping his mouth shut for a change. There was a reason he was Jim's best friend.
Other-Jim was leaning against the window of Observation Deck C in an eerie imitation of how Jim himself often did; his arm was braced above his head as his forehead pressed against the clear surface, watching the stars. He didn't move when Jim entered, leaving Bones and the petty officer in the hallway.
“Livok, would you just-”
“He's got the conn,” Jim said.
Other-Jim straightened and turned a little to look at him. “We're pretty similar, aren't we?” he said after a minute.
Jim wasn't going to hold his breath, but he could concede a little. He walked over to the window and leaned a shoulder on it. “Nice and quiet in here.”
“Just your thoughts and the black,” Other-Jim agreed.
“What are you going to do?”
His counterpart sighed. “Nice trap he sprang around us. We've got no choice but to turn tail and run, and hope he's as honourable as Vulcans pretend to be.”
“My Spock's fantastic at chess,” said Jim, having nothing to say about Vulcan honour.
“That sure explains a lot.” Other-Jim rubbed at his eyes and sagged against the wall. “We'll release your Spock,” he said. “I got a report from Scotty just before you hit the bridge; he's almost got the problem figured out.”
“Thanks,” Jim said.
Other-Jim shrugged. “If I can't trust my own judgement, I'm probably fucked anyway. You're not evil, right?”
Jim had another crazy image of Spock with a beard. “Not the last time I checked, no.”
Other-Jim glanced at his chronometer. “We just have time to free your first officer before I have to go surrender the planet.” He clapped Jim on the shoulder. “Shall we?”
They left the observation deck, collecting Bones and dismissing Petty Officer Jones before filing into the turbolift and heading for the brig.
Spock was gone when they got there. Other-Jim whirled on the lieutenant on duty. “You seem to have misplaced a prisoner,” he said with just a slight edge to his voice.
The lieutenant quailed. “N-no, sir, Captain. Cdr. Livok ordered him brought to the bridge fifteen minutes ago.”
The three men shared a look of dread before taking off for the turbolift. Other-Jim hailed the bridge on his communicator as they ran. Uhura picked up.
“Where's Livok?” he demanded.
“Transporter room, Captain,” she said.
“What's going on, Lieutenant?”
“Sir, he hailed the Vulcans about five minutes after you left and made a deal to trade the hostages for the Vulcan prisoner.” She paused. “The prisoner looked just like the Vulcan Spock, sir.”
“Fuck fuck fuck,” he said succinctly, ending the call to hail the transporter room instead. They were in the turbolift, rocketing down to that deck, when Scotty picked up. Jim paced the tiny space inside the lift as Other-Jim talked and Bones looked back and forth between them in worry.
“Mr. Scott, this is Kirk. I require an immediate update on the situation in the transporter room.”
“Captain, the Vulcans have disabled their transport disruptors and I'm preparing to beam our crewmembers back over here now that I've got their signal.”
“What deal did Mr. Livok make?” he hissed, as the turbolift doors opened and he stalked down the hallway, Jim and Bones following.
“I was informed that we're trading the Vulcan prisoner for our crew, sir. They've agreed to leave the system once they've got him.”
They were going to lose Spock to a bunch of crazy Vulcans, and they'd never get him back.
“If you want to keep your first officer,” Jim growled at his counterpart, “don't let me anywhere near him.”
“Once a Romulan, always a Romulan,” Bones agreed.
They barged into the transporter room to see Livok at the controls, preparing to beam Spock, who was being held at gunpoint on the transporter pad. The away team had beamed back and was being attended to in the corner by a medical team, including Other-Bones.
“Stand down, Commander,” Other-Jim said, stopping a few feet away from the control console.
“Captain, we have to uphold our end of the deal,” said Livok.
“I ordered you to stand down.”
“They've got weapons trained on the ship; I have five minutes to beam him over.”
Jim could see Other-Jim thinking quickly. He looked up and they locked eyes.
“Yeah,” Jim said with a nod. “It's the best plan we've got.” And he brushed past the phalanx of security to hop up on the pad next to Spock.
Bones and Spock both gave him incredulous looks and spoke at the same time.
“Captain, this is highly-”
“Jim, what do you think you're-”
“Two to beam, Mr. Livok,” Other-Jim said authoritatively. “And then we're going to discuss your punishment for insubordination. Energize.”
“Keep an eye on things for us over here, Bones,” Jim said as he started to dematerialize. “We'll be back before you know it.”
They beamed right onto the bridge of the Vulcan ship, in front of the captain's chair. Weapons were drawn immediately.
“There are two! It is a trap!” said an officer.
Other-Spock held up a hand for silence. He kept looking between Jim and Spock, as if he wasn't sure who was more interesting.
“I am quite sure that I did not ask for the captain of the Enterprise in this exchange of hostages. What good fortune.”
“I'm not the captain of that ship,” Jim said, glad his voice sounded strong and confident. There was an air of... something... about this Spock, in person, something that utterly failed to put him at ease, unlike the one he knew.
“Is this some human joke? I do not understand such low forms of humour.”
Jim straightened a little; talking, he reminded himself, was one of his strong points, and distracting Spock moreso. “Oh, I'm definitely James Kirk. But I'm not the captain of that ship.” He raised an eyebrow, mockingly. “What, there can be two of you but there can't be two of me?”
“I suppose you make a reasonable point. But what are you doing here?”
“Where he goes, I go.” Jim glanced over at Spock, who was a blank slate. “I have to say, I was hoping for a better welcome than this.”
“I cannot imagine a Vulcan associating with a human,” Other-Spock said. “And we certainly have no use for humans aboard this ship. I should have you killed.”
Jim looked shocked. “Spock! What would your mother think?”
The room seemed to go cold. “My mother?”
Jim barely managed to keep his face innocent. “Amanda!” he said. Then he looked around at the assembled Vulcans, most of whom looked faintly puzzled by the exchange. “Oh,” he said, “my bad! Was that a secret?”
Other-Spock stared at him for a moment before making a curt gesture; someone stepped up behind Jim and the last thought he had was, 'ah-nerve pinch,' before everything went dark.
***
Jim woke up in the brig, inside a tiny cell with one whole wall consisting of a transparent forcefield, from the looks of it; everything on the other side looked faintly distorted from certain angles.
There was a Spock standing patiently on the other side, but he was dressed in Vulcan clothing so Jim wasn't sure that it was his first officer.
“Sometimes, Jim, you are an idiot.”
Ah.
“Only sometimes?” he asked, sitting upright and stretching the kinks out. His neck felt like there was a knot in it.
Spock crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. “Perhaps I have merely become accustomed to it.”
“That could be,” he agreed. “What's with the duds? You going native?”
Spock looked blank for a moment; Jim could tell he was translating the idioms in his head. Then he looked down at himself. “They insisted I should change out of my human clothing, perhaps so that they might destroy it. It seemed wisest to appear cooperative.” He dragged over a chair from the corner and sat in front of Jim's cell. “Presumably due to my Vulcan appearance and uncanny resemblance to the captain of this ship, I have been granted the same freedom to move about the ship as a member of the crew would have. I believe they assume that I will be loyal to them out of a sense of belonging to the species.” He raised an eyebrow.
“My freedom, at any rate, has allowed me to mingle with the crew, and I have managed to discern the source of divergence in this timeline,” he said. “It was indeed a failure of the Syrranite reform; Syrran and T'Pau were both assassinated early in the resistance and it fell shortly afterwards.”
T'Pau, Jim knew, was the matriarch or something of Spock's family. “Sorry to hear that.”
Spock shrugged. “She still lives in our proper time.” He glanced behind him to be sure they were alone before continuing. “My counterpart seems to be having some difficulty with the rumours now circulating the ship. Your outburst on the bridge had quite an effect.”
Jim grinned. “That's the great thing about xenophobes; it's easy to weaken the ranks with a few nasty rumours about peoples' mothers. Whether they're true or not.”
“I believe they must be as true in this timeline as they are in our own,” Spock said. He paused. “More than one thing is true of both.”
Spock had obviously learned about the death of Vulcan in this timeline, too. Jim didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
“You made reference to a plan of some kind before we left the Enterprise,” Spock said finally. “Did it go beyond infuriating this ship's captain and being imprisoned?”
“It actually went that far, and then past that, to breaking out of this cell and dismantling the transport disruptors, so that we could be beamed back.”
“You do not think I could manage that on my own, given their trust of my Vulcan status?”
“Probably,” Jim said. “But I couldn't just let you go on your own; a captain doesn't abandon his crew to the enemy. Besides, you and I are a team.”
Spock frowned at him and stood. “I must go,” he said. “I will see what can be done about freeing you, or at least keeping you alive.”
“Be ready when I bust out,” Jim called after him.
***
Jim looked, but didn't see an opportunity in the next twenty-four hours to make his escape. He wasn't sure whether to feel hopeful or doomed when he woke up to the sound of several Vulcans outside.
“Bring him out,” a familiar voice said. Jim opened his eyes and looked up to see Other-Spock in the doorway as three personnel brought Jim out, his hands bound behind him.
“Hi, Spock!” Jim said brightly. “How's your mom?”
Other-Spock ignored him. “Take him to the bridge.” He strode ahead through the sand-coloured corridors while Jim was frog-marched along by two guards, the third holding a phaser levelled at his back.
Jim made further attempts to bait him all the way to the bridge, but it was as if he didn't exist. No one could ignore people like a Vulcan. Still, he hoped when they got to the bridge, an opportunity might present itself to escape with Spock.
There was no sign of Spock on the bridge; it must have been third shift because the bridge crew was small.
“Leave us,” Other-Spock said to the guards. He pulled out a phaser. “I wish to speak with the human.”
They left quickly. Other-Spock turned to the rest of the bridge and declared, “All other non-essential personnel are also dismissed.”
All but three-helm, navigation and communications, Jim guessed-obediently got up and filed out without a word or even a curious look. They were the best Vulcans Jim had ever seen. He felt anxious to see that they were now basically alone; the three remaining officers practically made themselves invisible, focused on their tasks. Other-Spock gave him that cold stare, phaser in hand. Jim started to wonder if he was going to be executed after all, on the bridge. Maybe Other-Spock would hail the Enterprise first and show them the whole thing. He would have expected a bigger Vulcan audience, though.
Other-Spock grabbed his arm and nearly tugged him right off his feet, yanking him toward the captain's chair. Jim watched as he punched three buttons and then said something in Vulcan, some alphanumeric code probably, and the computer declared that the entire bridge was going into lockdown.
Jim froze. So did the three remaining officers, right before their captain shot them all with the phaser. They slumped in their chairs, stunned unconscious.
“We do not have much time,” Spock said, removing Jim's restraints. “You go hail the Enterprise while I disable the transport disruptors for our escape.”
Jim turned around and stared. The Vulcan in front of him was wearing the captain's uniform and looking as impassive as ever, but he looked a little tight around the eyes, antsy maybe. What were the odds that this was a trick?
“Spock?” he tried.
“We have no time, Jim.”
Jim didn't move. “Tell me it's you, and I'm not beaming a sociopath onto a Starfleet ship.”
Spock came close and grabbed his hand. “Jim. You are frequently an idiot, but I have become accustomed to you and do not wish to train another captain in your place. We must hurry.”
He was a little staggered by the warm look in Spock's eyes. “Hey,” he said, his voice cracking a little as his first thoughts emerged from his mouth, “earlier you said it was only sometimes.”
“Jim.”
“Going!” Jim ran to the communications station, pushing aside the slumped Vulcan to access the controls. It took some doing, but he finally figured out how to input the hail for the Enterprise, using his command code (and hoping it might be the same).
He was in luck; Uhura's sweet voice came through. “Requesting confirmation of identity.”
Jim grinned. “Captain authorization code seven-three-romeo-delta-two.”
“Close enough. Is that you and your friend ready for a rescue, Captain Kirk?”
“Sure is, Lieutenant. Two to beam as soon as you can grab us.”
“Transport disruptors are disabled,” Spock said, coming to join him at the comm link.
There was a pause. “We've got a lock on you. Sir. Grab your friend.”
Jim took Spock's hand and squeezed as they were beamed back to their-well, not quite their-ship.
Bones and Other-Jim were waiting in the transporter room when they got back, dropping each others' hands quickly.
“Thank Christ,” Bones said. “I was having an aneurysm.”
“We're not even wounded this time!” Jim said. He turned to Spock. “You're not wounded, right?”
“No, Captain, I am not.”
“Awesome! Are we going back to where we belong, then?”
“I've just got a few tweaks to make, and then you're off,” Scotty said from the control panel. He promptly ripped the casing off of it and crawled underneath with a screwdriver.
“Did he have to put it back together to beam us up?” Jim asked.
“Only a little,” said Other-Jim. “Drink?”
They strolled to the officers' lounge. “Where's Livok?” Jim dared ask.
“Suspended.”
A concise answer; Jim left that one alone.
“Why are you dressed like one of the crazy hobgoblins, Spock?” Bones asked, poking at one of the decorations on the front of his uniform. This got Jim's attention.
“Yeah,” he said. “Those were some slick moves. Share your secrets.”
They entered the lounge, which was empty, and sat down. “It was simple enough, given that I appeared to be identical in every way to its captain, and that they clearly considered the possibility of my non-loyalty to be illogical.” Spock said. “I merely waited for him to invite me for a private conversation, which was nearly inevitable. Once in his quarters, with his guard down as much as it was ever likely to be, I was able to subdue him, render him unconscious, and lock him in his bathroom. Then I put on his uniform and assumed his identity.” He paused.
“It was difficult to act so volatile,” he said. “I begin to wonder if the Vulcans of our timeline turned to pacifism in part because an attitude of constant, restrained violence is tiring to maintain.”
Jim grinned at Bones. “He took the bridge hostage. It was fun to watch.”
“On the contrary, Captain, you were as confused as the Vulcans.”
Jim blushed a little. “Well, it's fun to remember. You're too good an actor, I guess.”
He turned to Other-Jim, who was watching them in bemusement. “So I guess you might want to steer clear of your Spock for a while,” Jim said. “I doubt he's pleased.”
“If I ever saw him pleased, I'd fear for my life and ship,” Other-Jim said. “Well, I'm glad it worked out okay, and I'm sorry for... all of this.”
Jim shrugged. “These things happen. Mostly to us.”
Other-Jim burst out laughing. “I think some things never change, no matter what universe you're in.”
Jim looked at Spock, who raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “More than you'd expect, maybe.” He shook his head. “Anyway. How's Scotty doing?”
Scotty was about finished, mad genius that he was, and so they trooped back to the transporter room. Other-Bones stopped in to say goodbye as Jim shook hands with his counterpart. “Good luck, and thanks,” Jim said.
“I don't know why you're thanking me for the trouble you've gone through, but I'll take all the luck I can get,” Other-Jim said. “Good luck to you, too. I don't think I envy you, having Romulans on the other team. And thanks for introducing me to a decent Vulcan. I hope there's more out there.”
Spock stepped forward to offer the Vulcan salute, which Other-Jim and Other-Bones blinked at. “Live long and prosper,” he said.
Other-Jim grinned. “Back at ya.”
“Here goes nothing,” Scotty said, once they were situated on the transporter pad. “Energizing.”
When the gold haze disappeared, Jim was staring at another transporter room. Discreetly crossing his fingers, he turned to the gobsmacked Scotty.
“What the fuck is wrong with this thing!” Scotty said all of a sudden. “It's supposed to be beaming you down to Rigel IV and instead it's changing your clothes!”
Jim jumped off the pad, a broad grin pulling at his face. “You know what, don't worry about it. We're going to make our excuses instead. Bones? Spock?”
“Coming, Captain.”
“Finally, I can get out of this ridiculous monkey suit.”
Jim laughed all the way to the turbolift.
THE END