Fic: Kings and Pawns - Chapter 10/22

Sep 18, 2010 02:21

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: ~2247
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 TEN
TUNNEL COMPANIONS

Spock found meditation to be entirely impossible, being unable to focus his mind. Instead he dreamed. He dreamed of Nyota, her face still strong in his mind. He dreamed of scientific discoveries he had yet to discover; how many new discoveries had he missed all these years? He dreamed of Kirk, his best friend. How had he missed the signs that told him that not all was well between the two of them? He dreamed of getting his life back. But more than anything, he dreamed of revenge. It was a wholly un-Vulcan thought, something that was purely human, but he began to feel consumed by it. But he felt powerless to make it happen.

The small food dispenser hanging off his cell door opened and he heard the slosh of his liquid meal pour in there. He closed his eyes, ignoring the pangs in his stomach. His mind drifted once more. It would be easy. It would be easy just to lie down and die. And then he wouldn't have to live in this nightmare he had been in for the last ten years.

Maybe not so easy.

The survival instinct proved once again that it was stronger than the despair. He hauled himself to his feet and rushed to the food, grabbed the bowl and slurped it down, sliding down the wall. He hated what he had been reduced to, this shaky, weak excuse of a man. He remembered when he was strong, when he was confident, sure of himself and his skills, when he was Captain, when he had love. But that was another life.

As he swallowed his…soup, for lack of a better word, Spock heard a strange tapping sound. He cocked his head, trying to ascertain the location. Today was not his day in the mine - or so he believed, he could never be certain - and he could never hear the clang of pickaxes from his location anyway. The tapping grew louder…and it sounded as though it was coming from below. Spock placed his bowl at his side and knelt on his knees, placing his ear on the ground.

Yes, it had to be coming from below. But why and from where exactly? There was no dilithium up here, all of that was hundreds of feet below. Spock leaned back and scooted against the wall, deciding to wait and see if anything were to come of it or if he was finally losing his mind like he had lost his emotional control.

A small hole appeared in the floor. Spock stared in awe, watching it grow larger, the rock dust falling inside the opening. After a moment, it bulged and the top of a head covered in graying hair appeared. It twisted, trying to make room for the shoulders. Spock stared, the side of the head baring itself to him, revealing pointed ears. Vulcan? Or perhaps a rogue Romulan? Spock felt his eyes grow larger while the figure pulled itself from the hole and to its feet. It was male, approximately the same height as Spock and something looked vaguely familiar in the stance. The way the man carried himself reminded Spock of someone he knew…

“Father?” he whispered quietly, unable to suppress his shock. Surely his father had not suffered the same fate he had.

The man looked around the cell and slowly turned around, speaking. “Forgive my intrusion.”

Spock tilted his head. His voice was oddly recognizable even though he was now certain that he had never seen the man. As the mysterious man turned in his direction, it became clear that he was in fact Vulcan, one that had seen many years.

“I was not aware that there was a cell above me. I had believed that I was in the top row of cells, mistakenly as the case may be. We are still several hundreds of feet below the surface however,” the man finished.

Spock stood, leaning against the wall, bracing himself, before pushing his body forward. He and the mysterious Vulcan looked at one another, studying the other. Through the long unkempt beard and the long hair they both donned, there was a certainly similarity between the two Vulcans. But for the life of him, Spock could not figure out why there was a similarity, unless it was his mind playing tricks with him.

Finally, the older Vulcan spoke, surprise in his voice. “Fascinating.”

Spock was unable to suppress the chuckle that arose. He had been known to say that very same thing often. Embarrassed by his lack of emotional control, and in front of a fellow Vulcan no less, Spock turned to the side, breaking eye contact. He took several deep breaths before apologizing, his voice hoarse due to lack of use. “Forgive me. My emotional control is weak. I have been unable to meditate.”

The Vulcan elder nodded his acceptance, his eyes carrying a hint of sympathy. “That is quite understandable, given your current circumstances. But I promise it will pass.”

Something in the man’s voice spoke of experience, as though he had been through the same lack of control at some point. Spock brought his gaze back to him, curiously studying him. “May I ask who you are?”

The man took a step toward him, lacing his fingers behind his back. “I believe to lessen any confusion you should simply call me ‘Ambassador.’ I have been a prisoner here on Rura Penthe for the last twenty-five years.” (1)

“Ambassador? There are no Vulcan ambassadors,” Spock replied. So the man had experienced quite some time on this asteroid, in this prison, as he had predicted but it had clearly affected his mind. Vulcan had never been allowed to have ambassadors in this Empire, many species were not.

Spock noticed a slight lift in the corners of the ‘Ambassador’s’ mouth before he answered. “In my time, in my reality, there were.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow. “Your universe?”

“I believe that you have come to the same conclusion as I have: that we are one and the same, but also not,” the Ambassador spoke with certainty. “Although I must admit that I have never expected to come face to face with you, especially here.”

Spock shook his head, feeling a surge of sympathy toward the older Vulcan. “I believe that you are mistaken. Perhaps the years in this place has eroded your memory, just as the years have made my mind play tricks on me. I will admit that I took you to be my father when you entered my cell as you do share similar characteristics, but -“

“You are Spock, are you not?”

Spock halted. He had not heard his name spoken in years. If this man knew his name, and he could never have met him given the time he had been here unless they met when Spock was naught but a toddler, then perhaps there was some truth in his words. Then, in turn, it also meant there could be some truth in Emperor Nero’s declarations of being from the future.

The Ambassador continued to speak, taking Spock’s silence as affirmation. “We share the same father, Sarek, and our mother, Amanda Grayson, was human.”

A tilt of the head, a lift of the eyebrow followed by a whisper. “Fascinating.”

The Ambassador nodded in agreement. “Also taking in the physical similarities between the two of us, the logical conclusion is that we are both Spock, but also not.”

Spock’s eyes darkened. “There is no talk of logic within these walls, Ambassador.”

The Ambassador looked surprised by Spock’s words. “Really?” He asked in disbelief. He walked toward the back wall, pointing at the engraving carved deeply on it. “And this inscription? What purpose does it serve if not to remind you of the teachings of Surak? Of logic?”

The younger Vulcan acquiesced. “Perhaps in the beginning that was the case, but I have since learned that logic holds no meaning here.” He began to pace around the small cell. “If that were the case, I would not have been sent here by, of all people, James Kirk, my closest and oldest friend.” He said the words harshly; even with all the years that had passed, he still had difficulty reconciling with that fact. “And I would have been exonerated for I am not guilty of any crime, except that of love. But I am fearful that even that is beginning to fade from me.”

“And what has replaced your logic?”

“Revenge.”

The Ambassador hung his head as though deeply saddened by the news. Spock wondered how different their lives had been. Had the Ambassador known Kirk in his universe as well? The Ambassador slowly walked around the cell, his hands behind his back, and his head down, his gaze on the ground. Spock recognized that he was trying to accept this, that he was trying to compute it.

Finally, after a moment of silence, the Ambassador released a sigh. “I had forgotten that your world is vastly different from mine. When I followed Nero through the black hole all those years ago, I entered not only the past but also an alternate reality. I must admit that I find it tremendously troubling that your friendship with Jim has been led down this path.”

Spock watched as the Ambassador suddenly knelt down and began to lower himself in the tunnel he had dug. “Follow me,” he said, his voice muffled by the rock. “There is much to discuss.”

After quickly looking around his cell for a second, Spock followed suit. He crouched into the tunnel, finding that it had a slight incline, possibly around five degrees, maybe more. The two Vulcans crawled through the tunnel for approximately ten feet before arriving at another exit, this time leading them to the Ambassador’s cell. The opening had been dug into the side of the wall, on ground level, as it was much easier to reach than the overhead ceiling.

When Spock exited the tunnel, he scanned his new surroundings and became enraptured. Somehow the Ambassador had collections of PADDs on a table he had fashioned out of the rock surrounding them. Against the far wall sat a small chair and Spock gravitated towards it. It had been years since he had sat in one, having never known what he had taken for granted until it was no longer there. He looked to the Ambassador, silently asking permission to sit. The elder Vulcan nodded and Spock slowly sat down, savoring the feel of the chair and not the hard rock beneath him. He felt the Ambassador’s eyes on him while he studied the belongings scattered about, internally questioning how he acquired them.

“You mentioned love,” the Ambassador spoke. “May I ask of whom you were referring?”

Spock turned to face the Ambassador. “Her name is Nyota. She was a student of mine at the Academy.” He almost shrugged his shoulders, but prevented himself from doing so. “I must admit that we ignored more than one regulation and law in our quest to explore a romantic relationship.”

“Nyota?” The Ambassador whispered, rolling her name on his tongue. “Do you mean Miss Uhura?”

Spock nodded. “You knew her?”

The Ambassador confirmed the answer, nodding briefly. “Yes, but I had never entered a romantic liaison with her. She was the communications officer aboard the USS Enterprise when I served as first officer under Captain James Kirk.”

Spock quirked his brow in surprise. He had not expected Kirk to have been captain in any universe, if he was honest with himself. He was too brash, too impulsive and too impatient for command, as far as Spock was concerned. But perhaps in the Ambassador’s universe, James Kirk was an honorable man, capable of commanding a starship. “Fascinating,” Spock replied. “Before I had been sent here I had been promoted to Captain.”

The Ambassador looked surprised for a moment, even if only in his eyes. “Another way our worlds are different.”

“Indeed.” Spock looked at the hole in the sidewall where they had entered the cell. It was clear that the Ambassador had been digging his escape for years. Perhaps he would be able to assist. He turned his attention to the other Vulcan. “You spoke of escape.”

“Yes.” The reply came quickly. “As we are below the surface, I believe that digging a tunnel at a slight angle would bring us away from the complex and finally to the surface. I simply made the mistake of believing I was already housed in the upper cells. It is no trouble however.” The Ambassador explained. “With the two of us we can now continue the tunnel from your cell and reach the surface in,” he paused, mentally calculating. “Possibly ten years, providing my calculations are accurate.”

Ten years? That would be too long. It was entirely possible under their current living conditions they would not survive long enough to make the escape. It was disheartening to say the least. Would the attempt even be worth it, or would it just speed up their deaths? Spock suppressed a sigh. He knew that an instantaneous fix, no matter how much he desired it, was not likely, but he was beginning to feel hopeless.

The Ambassador caught the dismay from him and the possible refusal. “Or does something else demand your time? Another pressing engagement, perhaps?” He stepped toward Spock and continued. In return for your help, I offer something priceless.”

Spock’s eyebrow once again rose, this time in sarcasm. “My freedom?

He shook his head. “As you are well aware, freedom can be taken away. I offer knowledge.” Spock looked at him curiously, urging him to continue. “I offer knowledge of a universe where fear doesn’t reign, a government that is not tyrannical in nature, but rather a joint organization between planets…in a federation. It does not have to be the way it is now.”

That was the Ambassador’s universe? Something that different? Spock couldn't help but find the Ambassador’s words to be impossible. “This universe is all I have ever known. I know of no other way.”

“Yes, but you could bring in a new era.” The Ambassador tried a new tactic. “If anything, escape can bring you back to your Nyota.”

Yes, that had some appeal. He missed her horribly and found himself wondering about where life had taken her all these years. Was she waiting for him, hoping against hope that he would return to her? Or had she moved on, marrying someone else? He feared the latter. He knew it was unfair to her, but he desperately hoped that she still loved him. He needed to see her again. The odds of this plan working were stacked against them, however. But perhaps it would be better to try rather than give up.

Mind made up, Spock replied enthusiastically. “When shall we begin?”

(1) Um…yeah…about how long the two Spocks have been in prison. Well, I completely, for some unknown reason, forgot about Pon Farr as I was writing this. I was way too far ahead once I realized my mistake and since I was on a deadline, I didn’t feel like going back and fixing it. So, um…just pretend they meditated their way through it XD

.fic series: kings and pawns, fanfic: star trek 2009, ships: spock/uhura

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