Fic: Kings and Pawns - Chapter 9/22
Title: Kings and Pawns
Author: jlneveloff
Movie Adapted: The Count of Monte Cristo
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS Reboot)
Genre: Drama, Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura, Kirk, Pike, McCoy, Gaila primarily & Scotty, Chekov & Sulu to a lesser degree...Oh, also Nero, Spock Prime, Sarek and even Admiral Barnett has a part to play...So pretty much everyone.
Beta: slwmtiondaylite
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1775
Warnings: Language, mild adult situations, violence and the occasional plot hole
Disclaimer: Star Trek and associated characters created by Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing at all. …which makes me all kinds of sad, ‘cause I really wanna borrow Spock for a while. Based upon the film The Count of Monte Cristo, written by Jay Wolpert (based upon the novel by Alexandre Dumas père) and directed by Kevin Reynolds.
Summary: In a Universe that has always known power and corruption, it is only a matter of time before the power takes over once again and innocent people are sacrificed. Spock/Uhura. Alternate MirrorVerse.
written for the LJ community reel_startrek, Round Two.
Author's Notes: This is my first...well, novel length story, so there is the chance that I may have plot holes...You have been warned ;)
This is also based on the film more so than the novel. I've never read the novel, but I am aware that the film diverted from it greatly.
CHAPTER NINE
OFFER THEM PEACE, THEN YOU WILL HAVE PEACE
Spock spent most of his time alone, in solitary confinement, locked away in a damp, cold prison cell. On the days he wasn’t left alone, he was forced to work in the mines, searching for dilithium. The mines were dangerous and dark with little light to illuminate the prisoners’ work. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, the mines or the cell. In the cell, he would be alone for days with no contact with another living creature, but he found himself meditating in an effort to alleviate the feeling of desperation.
The isolation was haunting for a telepath. Despite their cold and aloof exterior, Vulcans were a highly social race, forming deep bonds with the people in their lives. They were like humans in that way, needing socialization to maintain their emotional state. The loneliness and silence was deafening.
Today was a mining day. A small part of him was pleased with this and a much larger part of him was horrified at the thought that something such as this pleased him, this grisly, barbaric way of life, but he had been left alone for so long. Or maybe it wasn’t that long. If he thought hard enough, he would have realized that it had only been two months since his imprisonment. But being alone messed with his sense of time. He raised his axe and slammed it down on the rock, the impact rippling up through his arms.
A scream in the distant. Blood-curdling. He shuddered internally. The pain collar dug into his neck.
Why was he here again? His mind must be slipping. He needed to meditate more often; he was beginning to lose control. His mind conjured up an image of a blond haired human male with blue eyes. His name flitted through his mind. It was on the tip of his tongue. What was it….? Oh, yes….
“Kirk,” he whispered harshly to himself, slamming the axe once more. Rock crumbled at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, placing it in the cart at his side.
His life was so simple now, painful but simple. Mine the ore, place it in the cart. Rinse and repeat. Or sit alone in the damp cell, meditating, if he could. He missed his scientific endeavors. He craved intellectual conversation. He needed it.
He needed Nyota.
What had he done to deserve this?
Another scream. Closer this time. His turn was coming. He raised the axe once more.
Peace. Give them peace, then you shall have peace. It had seemed so simple not too long ago and so true, but when was this peace coming? He tried so hard to follow Surak’s teachings. He did no harm. He was a model prisoner. It wasn’t working. Perhaps it needed more time. He would continue doing as he was; surviving.
Kirk betrayed him. His best friend. And for what? Spock still could not comprehend the facts, that his childhood friend did this to him. Because he was jealous? Spock recalled Kirk mentioning Nyota, his captaincy, how everything came so easily to him. But that wasn’t true. He had worked so hard to get to where he was. He had to work more than anyone else in Starfleet to get to the point he had, the prejudices he faced were the biggest obstacle he came across. And Nyota.
He missed her. Was she okay?
This time the scream was at his side. He refused to look. He was next.
He lifted the axe more quickly this time. He slammed it down, breaking dilithium ore off the rock. Starfleet needed this to power their ships. Their powerful ships. The Enterprise. So, one could argue that he was doing his part for the greater good, providing the fuel for the ships. It was a weak argument. No one should have to suffer like this.
He would continue to survive. He had to. He needed to get out of here. Kirk had to pay. Revenge was not becoming of a Vulcan.
He didn’t care. He was half-human after all.
“Get back to work!” a gruff voice sounded behind him before he felt the familiar shock run through his body, pain coursing through his every nerve; the guard had pressed the controls for his collar. Spock gritted his teeth, not allowing the overseer the pleasure of hearing his pain.
He would not be broken.
**********
Nyota Uhura sat on the bed in her dorm and read the message on her PADD again, shock settling in. It can’t be true. He didn’t even get a trial. She hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. She looked at the sender again; there was no mistake, it was from Admiral Christopher Pike.
Tears came unabated, pooling in her eyes, obscuring her vision, before tumbling down her face. Her heart wrenched. She inhaled a shuddering breath, gasping for the air she had momentarily ignored. She couldn't look away from the last line of the message:
“Captain Spock, son of Sarek, has been executed
for his crimes against the empire.”
They had done everything in their power to exonerate him. Admiral Barnett and she had tried everything. Kirk had helped them when he had the time, but with his duties aboard the Enterprise - he was now first officer - his time was cut short. Barnett had done everything in his power to access the ‘classified’ files containing the evidence against Spock to no avail. She had spent her time frantically declaring up and down that Spock had not intruded her mind. Neither of them was given much thought by the board. Once they had their ‘evidence’ it was over and nothing could sway them - part of her thought that Admiral Pike had something to do with it.
She was utterly heartbroken.
The tears continued to fall down her face, thick, heavy droplets that ran down her cheeks and onto the PADD she held limply in her hands. Things had been going so well, but had been shattered in an instant. She missed him deeply. She sniffled, trying to suppress the cries in her throat. She re-read the note. She heard her door open and turned to face the intruder. It was Kirk. She stared at him, sadly and he mirrored her expression. He must have heard the news.
Finally, the dam broke. She stood and threw the PADD at the wall, crying out and bringing her hands to her face, swiping angrily at her tears. But it was of no use. The moment she removed the tears, others replaced them.
Uhura felt a pair of arms wrap around her. She turned and allowed herself to fall into Kirk’s arms, clinging to him in her heartache. “Oh, God, James,” she cried into his chest. “Oh, God, why?”
Kirk ran his hands across her back in an effort to soothe her. “I know,” he whispered in response.
“They didn’t even give him a trial.” Uhura wailed in his arms, tightening her grip on him. She clung to him, desperate to have someone who understood, someone who knew Spock. She was so tired of keeping it bottled up inside. She cried against him until she could cry no longer.
**********
Spock meditated. And most of the time it worked. Most of the time, he was able to center himself and maintain his emotional control. But after a while, he wasn’t sure anymore how long ago it was, he found that it was harder to find that perfect moment when everything faded away and he no longer able to find the place where he was able to control his turbulent emotions.
His days in isolation far exceeded the days he was mining now. He was beginning to think that he had been forgotten. He hoped they had forgotten him, but eventually they came back, dragging him for a day in the mines. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.
“Offer them peace, then you will have peace.”
The inscription called to him. Every day it called to him. It was true, right? His father had taught him that. It would happen someday, right? Someday he would have this peace he longed for.
How long had he been here already? Years? It had to be. He remembered…three, he believed, anniversaries. When was the forth? It had to be coming soon.
Spock looked around the floor of his cell and found the small stone on the floor. He grabbed it and crawled toward the inscription. He stared at it, mouthing the words. He brushed the hair out of his eyes; it was so long now. Another sign that it had been years. His hand ran over his chin, his facial hair had grown considerably. He probably looked horrible, horrendously unkempt. He reached out with the small stone in hand, and traced the words again, carving them deeper into the wall’s surface.
It was an exercise in futility and had his mind been whole, he would have told himself he was being illogical, carving the words over and over did not make them come true any faster, but he didn’t care anymore. He needed something to do when he wasn’t mining or when he couldn't meditate.
The door banged open. He was hauled to his feet and chained to the ceiling. Oh, today was his anniversary.
He still refused to cry out.
It would be so easy. He could end this, make his pain go away and end this nightmare. Why was he still here? He seriously contemplated it, ending it. He stared at the wall.
…then you will have peace.
Peace. He remembered feminine laughter, soft, throaty, sensual; lying on a bed, warm body next to him. And love. He remembered love. He would find that peace again someday.
He abandoned the rope he had taken from the mines, letting it fall to the ground from the pillar above him and picked up the small stone at his side, carving the words deeper still.
“Okay,” a woman’s voice broke through the silence. “Anniversary time again…Speck - Sylok…whatever your name is. How long has it been now? Eight years? It doesn’t matter.”
Chains pulled him up. Then pain. He was too weak to cry out.
He tried to meditate. It didn’t work. For hours he tried.
He opened his eyes. He picked up the stone at his side and stared at the wall. The inscription stared back. But this time it didn’t offer hope. It taunted him, tormenting him of better times; happiness, soft dark flesh under his hands, laughter, love, and everything that had been taken from him.
The stone clattered, falling from his hand.
The soft echo was deafening.
Author: jlneveloff
Movie Adapted: The Count of Monte Cristo
Fandom: Star Trek (TOS Reboot)
Genre: Drama, Action/Adventure, Romance, Angst
Characters/Pairings: Spock/Uhura, Kirk, Pike, McCoy, Gaila primarily & Scotty, Chekov & Sulu to a lesser degree...Oh, also Nero, Spock Prime, Sarek and even Admiral Barnett has a part to play...So pretty much everyone.
Beta: slwmtiondaylite
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~1775
Warnings: Language, mild adult situations, violence and the occasional plot hole
Disclaimer: Star Trek and associated characters created by Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing at all. …which makes me all kinds of sad, ‘cause I really wanna borrow Spock for a while. Based upon the film The Count of Monte Cristo, written by Jay Wolpert (based upon the novel by Alexandre Dumas père) and directed by Kevin Reynolds.
Summary: In a Universe that has always known power and corruption, it is only a matter of time before the power takes over once again and innocent people are sacrificed. Spock/Uhura. Alternate MirrorVerse.
written for the LJ community reel_startrek, Round Two.
Author's Notes: This is my first...well, novel length story, so there is the chance that I may have plot holes...You have been warned ;)
This is also based on the film more so than the novel. I've never read the novel, but I am aware that the film diverted from it greatly.
CHAPTER NINE
OFFER THEM PEACE, THEN YOU WILL HAVE PEACE
Spock spent most of his time alone, in solitary confinement, locked away in a damp, cold prison cell. On the days he wasn’t left alone, he was forced to work in the mines, searching for dilithium. The mines were dangerous and dark with little light to illuminate the prisoners’ work. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, the mines or the cell. In the cell, he would be alone for days with no contact with another living creature, but he found himself meditating in an effort to alleviate the feeling of desperation.
The isolation was haunting for a telepath. Despite their cold and aloof exterior, Vulcans were a highly social race, forming deep bonds with the people in their lives. They were like humans in that way, needing socialization to maintain their emotional state. The loneliness and silence was deafening.
Today was a mining day. A small part of him was pleased with this and a much larger part of him was horrified at the thought that something such as this pleased him, this grisly, barbaric way of life, but he had been left alone for so long. Or maybe it wasn’t that long. If he thought hard enough, he would have realized that it had only been two months since his imprisonment. But being alone messed with his sense of time. He raised his axe and slammed it down on the rock, the impact rippling up through his arms.
A scream in the distant. Blood-curdling. He shuddered internally. The pain collar dug into his neck.
Why was he here again? His mind must be slipping. He needed to meditate more often; he was beginning to lose control. His mind conjured up an image of a blond haired human male with blue eyes. His name flitted through his mind. It was on the tip of his tongue. What was it….? Oh, yes….
“Kirk,” he whispered harshly to himself, slamming the axe once more. Rock crumbled at his feet. He bent down to pick it up, placing it in the cart at his side.
His life was so simple now, painful but simple. Mine the ore, place it in the cart. Rinse and repeat. Or sit alone in the damp cell, meditating, if he could. He missed his scientific endeavors. He craved intellectual conversation. He needed it.
He needed Nyota.
What had he done to deserve this?
Another scream. Closer this time. His turn was coming. He raised the axe once more.
Peace. Give them peace, then you shall have peace. It had seemed so simple not too long ago and so true, but when was this peace coming? He tried so hard to follow Surak’s teachings. He did no harm. He was a model prisoner. It wasn’t working. Perhaps it needed more time. He would continue doing as he was; surviving.
Kirk betrayed him. His best friend. And for what? Spock still could not comprehend the facts, that his childhood friend did this to him. Because he was jealous? Spock recalled Kirk mentioning Nyota, his captaincy, how everything came so easily to him. But that wasn’t true. He had worked so hard to get to where he was. He had to work more than anyone else in Starfleet to get to the point he had, the prejudices he faced were the biggest obstacle he came across. And Nyota.
He missed her. Was she okay?
This time the scream was at his side. He refused to look. He was next.
He lifted the axe more quickly this time. He slammed it down, breaking dilithium ore off the rock. Starfleet needed this to power their ships. Their powerful ships. The Enterprise. So, one could argue that he was doing his part for the greater good, providing the fuel for the ships. It was a weak argument. No one should have to suffer like this.
He would continue to survive. He had to. He needed to get out of here. Kirk had to pay. Revenge was not becoming of a Vulcan.
He didn’t care. He was half-human after all.
“Get back to work!” a gruff voice sounded behind him before he felt the familiar shock run through his body, pain coursing through his every nerve; the guard had pressed the controls for his collar. Spock gritted his teeth, not allowing the overseer the pleasure of hearing his pain.
He would not be broken.
**********
Nyota Uhura sat on the bed in her dorm and read the message on her PADD again, shock settling in. It can’t be true. He didn’t even get a trial. She hadn’t even been able to say goodbye. She looked at the sender again; there was no mistake, it was from Admiral Christopher Pike.
Tears came unabated, pooling in her eyes, obscuring her vision, before tumbling down her face. Her heart wrenched. She inhaled a shuddering breath, gasping for the air she had momentarily ignored. She couldn't look away from the last line of the message:
“Captain Spock, son of Sarek, has been executed
for his crimes against the empire.”
They had done everything in their power to exonerate him. Admiral Barnett and she had tried everything. Kirk had helped them when he had the time, but with his duties aboard the Enterprise - he was now first officer - his time was cut short. Barnett had done everything in his power to access the ‘classified’ files containing the evidence against Spock to no avail. She had spent her time frantically declaring up and down that Spock had not intruded her mind. Neither of them was given much thought by the board. Once they had their ‘evidence’ it was over and nothing could sway them - part of her thought that Admiral Pike had something to do with it.
She was utterly heartbroken.
The tears continued to fall down her face, thick, heavy droplets that ran down her cheeks and onto the PADD she held limply in her hands. Things had been going so well, but had been shattered in an instant. She missed him deeply. She sniffled, trying to suppress the cries in her throat. She re-read the note. She heard her door open and turned to face the intruder. It was Kirk. She stared at him, sadly and he mirrored her expression. He must have heard the news.
Finally, the dam broke. She stood and threw the PADD at the wall, crying out and bringing her hands to her face, swiping angrily at her tears. But it was of no use. The moment she removed the tears, others replaced them.
Uhura felt a pair of arms wrap around her. She turned and allowed herself to fall into Kirk’s arms, clinging to him in her heartache. “Oh, God, James,” she cried into his chest. “Oh, God, why?”
Kirk ran his hands across her back in an effort to soothe her. “I know,” he whispered in response.
“They didn’t even give him a trial.” Uhura wailed in his arms, tightening her grip on him. She clung to him, desperate to have someone who understood, someone who knew Spock. She was so tired of keeping it bottled up inside. She cried against him until she could cry no longer.
**********
Spock meditated. And most of the time it worked. Most of the time, he was able to center himself and maintain his emotional control. But after a while, he wasn’t sure anymore how long ago it was, he found that it was harder to find that perfect moment when everything faded away and he no longer able to find the place where he was able to control his turbulent emotions.
His days in isolation far exceeded the days he was mining now. He was beginning to think that he had been forgotten. He hoped they had forgotten him, but eventually they came back, dragging him for a day in the mines. He wasn’t sure which he preferred.
“Offer them peace, then you will have peace.”
The inscription called to him. Every day it called to him. It was true, right? His father had taught him that. It would happen someday, right? Someday he would have this peace he longed for.
How long had he been here already? Years? It had to be. He remembered…three, he believed, anniversaries. When was the forth? It had to be coming soon.
Spock looked around the floor of his cell and found the small stone on the floor. He grabbed it and crawled toward the inscription. He stared at it, mouthing the words. He brushed the hair out of his eyes; it was so long now. Another sign that it had been years. His hand ran over his chin, his facial hair had grown considerably. He probably looked horrible, horrendously unkempt. He reached out with the small stone in hand, and traced the words again, carving them deeper into the wall’s surface.
It was an exercise in futility and had his mind been whole, he would have told himself he was being illogical, carving the words over and over did not make them come true any faster, but he didn’t care anymore. He needed something to do when he wasn’t mining or when he couldn't meditate.
The door banged open. He was hauled to his feet and chained to the ceiling. Oh, today was his anniversary.
He still refused to cry out.
It would be so easy. He could end this, make his pain go away and end this nightmare. Why was he still here? He seriously contemplated it, ending it. He stared at the wall.
…then you will have peace.
Peace. He remembered feminine laughter, soft, throaty, sensual; lying on a bed, warm body next to him. And love. He remembered love. He would find that peace again someday.
He abandoned the rope he had taken from the mines, letting it fall to the ground from the pillar above him and picked up the small stone at his side, carving the words deeper still.
“Okay,” a woman’s voice broke through the silence. “Anniversary time again…Speck - Sylok…whatever your name is. How long has it been now? Eight years? It doesn’t matter.”
Chains pulled him up. Then pain. He was too weak to cry out.
He tried to meditate. It didn’t work. For hours he tried.
He opened his eyes. He picked up the stone at his side and stared at the wall. The inscription stared back. But this time it didn’t offer hope. It taunted him, tormenting him of better times; happiness, soft dark flesh under his hands, laughter, love, and everything that had been taken from him.
The stone clattered, falling from his hand.
The soft echo was deafening.