FIC: Divergence 3/?
USS Enterprise Briefing Room, year 2260
Uhura uncrossed and then crossed her legs under the briefing room table as she read her datapad again, flicking back up the document each time realized that her attention had wandered and the only thing her eyes could see was a blurry screen.
‘The ship-wide mission announcement will be made before our arrival at Starbase Alpha 3, where all non-essential personnel will disembark.'
She felt a tremor run through her. Non-essential personnel in the case of a battle included a majority of communications officers. The specialists for starters, on-board for possible First Contact situations and diplomacy, not battle. Protocol dictated that it’ll be her, three relief officers, and three analysts for general subspace chatter/background noise. A department of fifty-three reduced to seven - Uhura bit the inside of her cheek.
‘It is expected that a list of essential personnel shall be compiled by all department heads, and that these selected crew be notified immediately after the mission announcement has been made - with the opportunity to decline.’ Spock paused, his voice changing from the cool clinical tone that he’d been using through most of the meeting to something quieter, more awkward. ‘It is expected that all personnel who pursue this mission will be allowed to record a final message for someone if they choose. All messages will be relayed via the Lockwood.’
Uhura felt a breath of air charge through her lungs roughly. God, she’d forgotten about her parents!
'We'll have exactly thirty minutes at the station - Scotty if you have anything you need, you better make that list now so we can give the guys on Alpha 3 some warning.’ There was an answering “Aye” from the Scotsman.
Kirk turned his gaze to the next person, ‘Chekov, I want you to look through the information Lockwood sent through - figure out where that Romulan went. I want us to be able to hit the ground running when we get to the other side - you think you can do that?’
There was a silent terse nod.
‘Sulu, divide your time between those two, I expect you to make sure those calibrations are done - I want her ready to go so put her through her paces, you hear?’ He gave the helmsman a questioning look which was answered with a sharp nod and a small determined smile. Kirk paused, ‘Lieutenant Uhura.'
She looked up, swallowing down her apprehensions. ‘Captain…?’ Now was not to time to plan the words she was going to say to her parents - dammit, if they didn’t go, her parents were as good as dead if Nero decided to come after her younger self!
'Starfleet has ordered we set up a parameter of beacons to prevent ships from stumbling into the path of the singularity. I'll have Scotty send someone up. It needs to be in every language, on every frequency, that the whole entire Milanot sector is temporally unstable and very dangerous.' Kirk gave her a small nod, ‘I’ll leave at your discretion how much detail you want to include. I’d like that ready by our rendezvous.’
'Yes sir.' Uhura murmured, gripping her datapad tightly.
‘Spock anything to add…? Okay, you’re dismissed, people. I expect a report in three hours.’
The meeting broke up silently, with none of the chatter that usually accompanied the break out of a long involved staff briefing. Sighing, she stood and followed Scotty and several other department chiefs in the turbolift.
‘Give me an hour to get started.’ She said quietly.
Besides her, the Scotsman gave a distracted nod. ‘I’ll be waiting for your comm. Lieutenant.’
------
Location unknown, year 2245
'We need to get outta here,' James whispered as soon as they left the Romulan vessel's bridge after their third visitation.
Spock agreed. He did not enjoy the prospect of remaining here till such time that the Romulan decided to release them, if he were understand the implications of their conversation correctly. But he did not condone unwise actions.
James had bitten their guard's hand and grabbed his hand, pulling him into making an unplanned attempt to escape. They were in a foreign place and greatly outnumber - it was only logical that it should end badly. They had been promptly recaptured minutes later, with James being knocked unconscious as he’d been unable to stop kicking and biting.
They were now in their permanent accommodations, an empty set of squalid quarters with a large cot meant for one adult Romulan. There was food on the table; what appeared to be a cooked stew and a thin greasy broth. Though he was hungry, Spock sat by the human boy's side and stroked him on the head softly, like Mother did when he was ill - ad hoc treatment for any illness at best, but then they had little options.
He tried to remember as much as he could about human physiology, and the actions Mother performed when she tended to him as she would a human child. In the light, he could see the human boy's paleness, his light skeletal frame and what appeared to be bruises and abrasions over one part of his face. His limited medical skills and knowledge of human biology concerned him. His own Vulcanoid physiology was far more familiar; Spock suspected that if he were to be injured, the close similarities between Romulans - or Rihannsu, as the man insisted - and Vulcans would enable their kidnappers to heal him, but perhaps not a human.
James stirred. The human made sounds of pain and placed his hand over Spock’s hand on his forehead. Spock removed his, carefully prying himself loose. The mental buzz was not unpleasant but Vulcans did not drawn reassurance from touch and their contact was bordering on the improper.
‘There is food.’ He said, as James sat up in a hurry only to lie back down loudly exclaiming his pain using words which he recognized as inappropriate expressions in the invective mode of several human languages.
Yes, Spock thought dryly, concurred.
--------------------
USS Enterprise, Captain’s quarters, year 2260
The Captain and First Officer’s cabins on Deck Five were almost identical, except for the sitting area hidden behind one of the wall panels, no doubt to be used as a more informal, private briefing room, or rather a more secretive one. It was being put to use right now, even though in the entire two years Jim had been on the Enterprise, he’d never even set foot in here except to well, set foot in here. On the screen, Ambassador Spock regarded them both from one of the astrometry labs aboard the Copernicus, looking even more grave than usual.
'I assume that you'll be staying.'
The elder Vulcan gave a brief nod, 'Yes Jim, the idea of four versions of me in the same timeline really does seem a little narcissistic. I am sure the information I have provided and the extensive dossier from the Department of Temporal Investigations will more than cover my absence.'
Jim mustered up a grin despite his mood, and turned to his version of the half-Vulcan, 'Well then - Spock, maybe we should be leaving you behind.'
And he was only half-joking; the idea of Spock going back and dealing with a time when Vulcan was still around, his mother was alive, and his people were not an endangered species, made him a little uncomfortable and he really couldn’t imagine what was going on in Spock’s mind - a major head trip would be his best guess.
Spock gave him a long look that said his thoughts frankly - no fucking way. 'I disagree, Captain. As I have said, the shared ancestry between Romulan and Vulcan will work to our advantage in the event of a need to board the Narada, and I imagine that my younger self will be unable to assist you if you were to attempt to retrieve him from Vulcan. In fact,' Spock tilted his head, a touch of that Vulcan dryness creeping into his voice. 'He would most likely think you are mentally unbalanced, and have you incarcerated.'
The image of little Spock, sneaking a Vulcan-nerve pinch in on him, was so hilarious he couldn’t help a burst of laughter despite the circumstances. ‘Spock, I think you’ve spent too much time around me.’
Spock raised an eyebrow, looking like he was going to say something back but with a glance to his counterpart, paused. Jim almost frowned in disappointment - it had to be interesting if it couldn’t be said in front of the Ambassador. His First Officer stood, datapad in hand, face once more his usual expressionless visage, 'Ambassador, if you'll excuse me, I must deliver this information to the crew.'
Jim sighed. Spock was right, again. 'Yeah, sorry to cut this short Ambassador, but duty calls.'
'Of course. Jim,' The figure on screen straightened, hand up in the traditional Vulcan salute, 'Good luck.'
I have been and always shall be your friend…
The echo settled like something warm in his gut. The screen went dark. Jim suddenly felt very sober.
Their orders were clear: go back in time, stop the Narada from changing the past anymore than they already have, and then retire quietly if there's no way back. The Deparment of Temporal Investigations was having a fit, trying to decide if this chance to "correct" time was good or bad or just plain crazy. It was a mess alright. The DTI didn't even want them to head the mission but they were the only crew who had an angle to play with Nero, who'd gone up against the Narada and survived, and who were fully versed on all the public and classified details of what went down at Vulcan, the attempt on Earth, and the aftermath resulting in the Milanot disturbance - it was an obvious choice.
The mission essentially sentenced all crew members on the List (yes he’d capitalized it in his head) to a life of insignificance. Scotty and Chekov would be forced to watch as their younger selves receive fame and renown they should have had. All of them, standing back, letting their younger selves, the ones who belonged to that timeline, take on their rightful places. Of course that was just morbid - they could very well save the day and be on their way back to their time, though considering the stats Spock had been sprouting, it wasn’t likely. Jim felt like sighing - one thing at a time, he thought firmly, let’s not start planning the rest of his life and quiet retirement in the new time-stream before they’d even gotten there and completed their mission.
'Captain?' Spock gave him a quizzical look, one which said that he wanted to pick Jim’s brain. He quirked a small grin; it was rather satisfying to know that Spock found him equally frustrating. Well good, let the guy simmer, Jim mused, troubled as other thoughts began to intrude, including the fact he had to write something or say something, make a vid recording, to explain to his mom about the disappearing act, especially when this was a week before their big reunion on Deep Space 4… Jim frowned.
'You go ahead, Spock. I'll be up shortly.'
With a curt nod, still perplexed, his First Officer left him.
Jim exhaled explosively and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a drink.
Walking swiftly to his private console, he punched in his command codes and unlocked it, 'Computer, locate the Chief Medical Officer.'
-------
Location unknown, year 2245
'What are you doing?'
After James’ ill-advised attempt to escape, they had remained secluded in their enforced accommodations for many days, visited twice by various Romulan crew members who stared at them as if they were biological specimens on display at a menagerie. Two standard weeks had passed, judging by the amount of times food had been delivered and the regular visits to the bridge so the Romulan could gaze upon them “as a reminder”. As the days passed, even he felt compelled to pace about as James frequently did.
'We're in someone's quarters Spock. This isn't a proper brig.’ James was attempting to pry one of the wall panels loose, ‘Quarters have computer terminals. You know, door access, information, logs. Gotta be one under all this…’
‘Your intention is to modify and gain access to the ship’s computer?’
They spoke often to pass the time and Spock found himself taken back by the breadth of James’ knowledge - his companion had a sound grasp on the basics in topics ranging from transporters to advanced theoretical physics to current political events. He had been unaware that young humans tackled academic studies with such vigor; often he encountered the impression that they were immature and lacking in discipline, even Mother thought so though she did not seem to disapprove of their behavior as much as view them with a kind of veiled bemusement. He had also learned of James’ dissatisfaction with his brother’s cooking, his dead dog and a number of other irrelevant personal details.
‘Yeah. It’ll be a total cake walk.’
Spock remained silent, not understanding the exotic terminology. James mistook his silence for skepticism, and stopped what he was doing to glare at him.
‘Oh come on Spock! We been stuck here for weeks eating that - whatever-you-call-it.’
It had been approximately two weeks, and the food had been a constant as well as visitations to the bridge, often together, sometimes alone. Spock found it difficult to quell his reactions to the taunts and physical provocations and it was obviously more than James could endure, leading the human returning after every single time in a collection of bruises and abrasions for misbehavior.
‘Tayleea Cheecha,’ He offered, as that was the proper name given to dish by their guards.
‘Yes - that! I mean honestly, who cooks meat and fruit together like that!’
He did not understand why James chose to fixate on the irrelevant. Spock would have thought that their mistreatment and the obvious physical abuse James had suffered would have been more distasteful to him that their food. It was a logical dish - as James required the protein found in meat and he was a vegetarian, who could easily pick out the large portions of fruit and vegetable in it.
‘Look, I can do this, okay?’ James gave him a disgruntled look, ‘It’s not like they're a proper Romulan crew, at least they don’t seem like they’re part of the Romulan fleet. Did you notice how many doors we passed? And that big cavern with that rig thing? Not normal, not for a cruiser. Their security can’t be that good if they don’t even have a brig.'
Yes, Spock had noticed. There had been a lot of quarters, as well as the large pieces of heavy machinery of unknown design sitting in largely empty areas of the ship. Everything was exposed, as if constantly being fixed or rearranged; not the smooth well-kept interiors of a functional warship. James’ logic was sound.
‘Besides, you don’t honestly believe that guy do you?’ James looked vaguely distressed, his voice taking on a mocking harsh tone, ‘That whole story he’s got about coming from the future and getting us before we grow up and put a dent in his grand plans.’
James was lying. Spock tilted his head, perplex as to the source of his insight. James firmly believed Nero’s story, but he was denying it - how… illogical.
‘Humanity has long believed in the possibility of time travel - even when the Vulcan Science Academy had stated it impossible - and you yourself are aware of the theories recently postulated by the Federation Academy of Sciences on the possibilities of harnessing -‘
‘Okay okay, fine!’ James rolled his eyes, ‘But come on, if we go by what he says, he’s gonna keep us locked up for another twelve years! Spock, you’re Vulcan, you’re gonna be still alive until the end of next century - but that’s a tenth of my life.’
The intermingling of anguish and outrage on James’ face was peculiar.
This was not a typical hostage situation - there would be no negotiation with Starfleet, the Vulcan High Council or indeed their parents. The most singular Romulan was planning on keeping them his prisoners. According to him, James Kirk would go on to become a decorated Starfleet Captain, with him as First Officer, aboard a starship named Enterprise.
(‘There isn’t a starship named Enterprise,’ James said sotto voce, ‘Hasn’t been one since last century. I know my Starfleet history, Spock, he’s bullshitting or just plain crazy.’)
Spock had never entertained the notion of joining Starfleet, which begged the question if one were to take Nero’s story as the truth - what between now and his proposed entrance into the Vulcan Science Academy would prompt him to abandon a life planned for him since the day of his birth?
'What do you propose?'
James searched his face for something, and satisfied with what he observed, pointed at the panel he had been attempting to free earlier, ‘Lend me a hand with that.’
---------
After several hours of work, they had revealed what appeared to be a computer terminal. Between his recognition of the glyphs by comparing them to what little High Vulcan he knew and James’ affinity for computers, they made good progress. Spock was impressed. Within 48 hours, they had successfully isolated the controls for their door, as well as access to the ship’s database. It seemed they were on the mining ship Narada, commissioned for service of the Romulan Star Empire in the year 2381, captained by Nero.
Nero, singular as he was, did not lie.
Spock had considered the possibility of this having a negative effect on James’ mental and emotional health, but it seemed his concerns were unwarranted; James swiftly turned his attention to “breaking them out of this hellhole”.
The onboard ships sensors had shown that they were in the level just above the ships main deck. Without weapons or cover due to the large cavernous nature of the ship, any attempt to leave would only result in their swift recapture.
‘We got to try, Spock.’ James was determined, and rather persuasive, even if his arguments were emotionally invested, ‘Twelve years, Spock, if we sat around like he wants us to, it’s going to be twelve years. I want to go home, Spock, preferably while it’s still there.’
Thus, approximately one standard hour after their evening meal was delivered, they left their quarters.
-----
James licked his lips nervously, and peered over the console at the long gangway leading to the part of the ship where escape pods were kept. They had to get onto one and eject themselves within the hour if they wanted to be within burn distance of a habitable system. He turned when Spock joined him and gestured to the direction where the doorway was.
‘There, you see that?’
Spock laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, ‘Shh…’
James froze, wondering what Spock heard. He swallowed dryly and wondered if his heart was beating too loudly. This was kind of insane. Back in their room, it had seemed pretty easy. Open the door, down one deck, cross the secondary deck, and then they were on their sweet way off this junk. Now in the darkness, his nerves were giving out on him and the low lighting didn’t help. Everything was creepy.
He eyed Spock, who was looking even more rigid than usual. ‘What’s wrong?’ He whispered.
The Vulcan boy tilted his head to the left, ‘There is someone descending from the upper deck.’
Shit. He felt a wave of nausea. God he hasn’t been this nervous since that time he was waiting for his mom to pick him up from the police station after crashing dad’s car. Good times, he thought wryly, and quickly waved that away. Now was not the time.
‘Are they coming here? What are they doing? Spock? Spock!’
The Vulcan gave him a cool look, ‘We remain undiscovered…’
He exhaled in relief, ‘Great.’
‘… However they are on the main deck and their trajectory will place them directly above us.’
His stomach lurched. He looked up and quickly ducked lower, grabbing Spock and dragging him down as well. And that’s what he heard it. The slow rumbling footsteps of the Romulans, who tended to take their time and scuff their heels. Not good, especially if their sense of smell was as good as what Spock has.
‘I estimate that the likelihood of us being caught is 93.89%,’ Spock whispered against his ear.
He squeezed Spock’s forearm between his hands, ‘Shut. Up.’
-------
The punishment was old-fashioned - “flogging” which the Romulans apparently had in common with Earth humans. Spock had taken his two quick and brutal lacerations in shocked silence, shaken by the painful sensation of having his flesh flailed. It was only through meditation during and after the experience, and his ability to switch off pain receptors that he managed to endure. James had admitted to being the initiator of their escape, and had been sentenced to separate punishment - Nero's declaration that it would be twice as much of what Spock had endured troubled him. Humans usually didn't meditate, nor did they have conscious control over their bodily functions as he did - frankly, he feared for James' well being.
Spock was glad to have not been present for his companion's punishment - the smell of James’ blood when their Romulan captors had returned him was revolting enough that he would have embarrassed himself if he had been there. He didn’t know how a human withstood it; they were supposed to be weak creatures, prone to running out of breath, with soft bones and weak musculature. It was clear: attempted escape had terrible consequences - Spock didn't relish testing their captors again, but if they did... Spock contemplated the sensation of a cool human body shivering against his leg in torment, the smell of the blood, and felt a shudder of revulsion go through him. If there was a next time, he would lie and spare James.
There had been a fresh batch of medical supplies waiting for them, and Spock had washed his companion's wounds and bandaged them to the best of his limited abilities. Besides expressing his distress at the physical discomfort and crying a little, James seemed otherwise unaffected except for being excessively fatigued, and less responsive. By the time they were both able-bodied to help each other, days had passed.
‘I miss my mom. I’m sorry… that I argued with her the last time - if I’d know this would be happening, well… well, I’d probably still have argued with her, but I probably would have hugged her before she left you know, instead of avoiding her and all…’
He recognized the tones of James’ voice - it was regret. The boy continued: ‘…So yeah, I was kind of a shit… I’m me you know, but still, I would have hugged her, if I could go back. Hey Spock, if you had a chance to go back and do things over, what would you do?’
Spock leaned into the gentle sting of the bandages dipped in antiseptic with his chin tucked between his knees; the wounds on his back had begun to cover over, but were tender even though he had received them days ago.
‘I don’t see the point in theoretical -‘
‘Just answer the damn question.’ He could almost feel James rolling his eyes in the dark.
Very well…
Spock felt those words on the tip of his tongue; he was starting to appreciate why his father used them so often in conjunction with Mother’s presence, and in the presence of their frequent human visitors.
‘If I were able to go back in time, to bid Mother farewell, I would -‘ Laugh at her jokes, let her teach me to dance, ask her all the questions he had regarding human emotionalism that Father did not approve of… ‘- attend to her in her wet-planet observatory… and harvest roses.’
In the darkness, he heard James laugh, ‘Spock! No way! You wanna go pick flowers?’
‘Roses are not native to Vulcan and scientists at the VSA wet-planet observatory -’
There was a disbelieving laugh and then a push at the back of his head, surprising him enough that his head bent forwards by fifteen degrees.
‘Yeah, yeah, save it! I’m going to sleep, wake me when they’re back.’
He had expected James to be more upset regarding their recapture. It seemed he was wrong - again. Fascinating. Pulling his robes back over his head, he moved back under the cloth they used for warmth and meditated.
--------
They had been captured after crossing the gangway on the secondary deck this time.
‘Well, at least it’s further than we got last time.’ James smiled.
part four
the kids are so naughty... :)
Uhura uncrossed and then crossed her legs under the briefing room table as she read her datapad again, flicking back up the document each time realized that her attention had wandered and the only thing her eyes could see was a blurry screen.
‘The ship-wide mission announcement will be made before our arrival at Starbase Alpha 3, where all non-essential personnel will disembark.'
She felt a tremor run through her. Non-essential personnel in the case of a battle included a majority of communications officers. The specialists for starters, on-board for possible First Contact situations and diplomacy, not battle. Protocol dictated that it’ll be her, three relief officers, and three analysts for general subspace chatter/background noise. A department of fifty-three reduced to seven - Uhura bit the inside of her cheek.
‘It is expected that a list of essential personnel shall be compiled by all department heads, and that these selected crew be notified immediately after the mission announcement has been made - with the opportunity to decline.’ Spock paused, his voice changing from the cool clinical tone that he’d been using through most of the meeting to something quieter, more awkward. ‘It is expected that all personnel who pursue this mission will be allowed to record a final message for someone if they choose. All messages will be relayed via the Lockwood.’
Uhura felt a breath of air charge through her lungs roughly. God, she’d forgotten about her parents!
'We'll have exactly thirty minutes at the station - Scotty if you have anything you need, you better make that list now so we can give the guys on Alpha 3 some warning.’ There was an answering “Aye” from the Scotsman.
Kirk turned his gaze to the next person, ‘Chekov, I want you to look through the information Lockwood sent through - figure out where that Romulan went. I want us to be able to hit the ground running when we get to the other side - you think you can do that?’
There was a silent terse nod.
‘Sulu, divide your time between those two, I expect you to make sure those calibrations are done - I want her ready to go so put her through her paces, you hear?’ He gave the helmsman a questioning look which was answered with a sharp nod and a small determined smile. Kirk paused, ‘Lieutenant Uhura.'
She looked up, swallowing down her apprehensions. ‘Captain…?’ Now was not to time to plan the words she was going to say to her parents - dammit, if they didn’t go, her parents were as good as dead if Nero decided to come after her younger self!
'Starfleet has ordered we set up a parameter of beacons to prevent ships from stumbling into the path of the singularity. I'll have Scotty send someone up. It needs to be in every language, on every frequency, that the whole entire Milanot sector is temporally unstable and very dangerous.' Kirk gave her a small nod, ‘I’ll leave at your discretion how much detail you want to include. I’d like that ready by our rendezvous.’
'Yes sir.' Uhura murmured, gripping her datapad tightly.
‘Spock anything to add…? Okay, you’re dismissed, people. I expect a report in three hours.’
The meeting broke up silently, with none of the chatter that usually accompanied the break out of a long involved staff briefing. Sighing, she stood and followed Scotty and several other department chiefs in the turbolift.
‘Give me an hour to get started.’ She said quietly.
Besides her, the Scotsman gave a distracted nod. ‘I’ll be waiting for your comm. Lieutenant.’
------
Location unknown, year 2245
'We need to get outta here,' James whispered as soon as they left the Romulan vessel's bridge after their third visitation.
Spock agreed. He did not enjoy the prospect of remaining here till such time that the Romulan decided to release them, if he were understand the implications of their conversation correctly. But he did not condone unwise actions.
James had bitten their guard's hand and grabbed his hand, pulling him into making an unplanned attempt to escape. They were in a foreign place and greatly outnumber - it was only logical that it should end badly. They had been promptly recaptured minutes later, with James being knocked unconscious as he’d been unable to stop kicking and biting.
They were now in their permanent accommodations, an empty set of squalid quarters with a large cot meant for one adult Romulan. There was food on the table; what appeared to be a cooked stew and a thin greasy broth. Though he was hungry, Spock sat by the human boy's side and stroked him on the head softly, like Mother did when he was ill - ad hoc treatment for any illness at best, but then they had little options.
He tried to remember as much as he could about human physiology, and the actions Mother performed when she tended to him as she would a human child. In the light, he could see the human boy's paleness, his light skeletal frame and what appeared to be bruises and abrasions over one part of his face. His limited medical skills and knowledge of human biology concerned him. His own Vulcanoid physiology was far more familiar; Spock suspected that if he were to be injured, the close similarities between Romulans - or Rihannsu, as the man insisted - and Vulcans would enable their kidnappers to heal him, but perhaps not a human.
James stirred. The human made sounds of pain and placed his hand over Spock’s hand on his forehead. Spock removed his, carefully prying himself loose. The mental buzz was not unpleasant but Vulcans did not drawn reassurance from touch and their contact was bordering on the improper.
‘There is food.’ He said, as James sat up in a hurry only to lie back down loudly exclaiming his pain using words which he recognized as inappropriate expressions in the invective mode of several human languages.
Yes, Spock thought dryly, concurred.
--------------------
USS Enterprise, Captain’s quarters, year 2260
The Captain and First Officer’s cabins on Deck Five were almost identical, except for the sitting area hidden behind one of the wall panels, no doubt to be used as a more informal, private briefing room, or rather a more secretive one. It was being put to use right now, even though in the entire two years Jim had been on the Enterprise, he’d never even set foot in here except to well, set foot in here. On the screen, Ambassador Spock regarded them both from one of the astrometry labs aboard the Copernicus, looking even more grave than usual.
'I assume that you'll be staying.'
The elder Vulcan gave a brief nod, 'Yes Jim, the idea of four versions of me in the same timeline really does seem a little narcissistic. I am sure the information I have provided and the extensive dossier from the Department of Temporal Investigations will more than cover my absence.'
Jim mustered up a grin despite his mood, and turned to his version of the half-Vulcan, 'Well then - Spock, maybe we should be leaving you behind.'
And he was only half-joking; the idea of Spock going back and dealing with a time when Vulcan was still around, his mother was alive, and his people were not an endangered species, made him a little uncomfortable and he really couldn’t imagine what was going on in Spock’s mind - a major head trip would be his best guess.
Spock gave him a long look that said his thoughts frankly - no fucking way. 'I disagree, Captain. As I have said, the shared ancestry between Romulan and Vulcan will work to our advantage in the event of a need to board the Narada, and I imagine that my younger self will be unable to assist you if you were to attempt to retrieve him from Vulcan. In fact,' Spock tilted his head, a touch of that Vulcan dryness creeping into his voice. 'He would most likely think you are mentally unbalanced, and have you incarcerated.'
The image of little Spock, sneaking a Vulcan-nerve pinch in on him, was so hilarious he couldn’t help a burst of laughter despite the circumstances. ‘Spock, I think you’ve spent too much time around me.’
Spock raised an eyebrow, looking like he was going to say something back but with a glance to his counterpart, paused. Jim almost frowned in disappointment - it had to be interesting if it couldn’t be said in front of the Ambassador. His First Officer stood, datapad in hand, face once more his usual expressionless visage, 'Ambassador, if you'll excuse me, I must deliver this information to the crew.'
Jim sighed. Spock was right, again. 'Yeah, sorry to cut this short Ambassador, but duty calls.'
'Of course. Jim,' The figure on screen straightened, hand up in the traditional Vulcan salute, 'Good luck.'
I have been and always shall be your friend…
The echo settled like something warm in his gut. The screen went dark. Jim suddenly felt very sober.
Their orders were clear: go back in time, stop the Narada from changing the past anymore than they already have, and then retire quietly if there's no way back. The Deparment of Temporal Investigations was having a fit, trying to decide if this chance to "correct" time was good or bad or just plain crazy. It was a mess alright. The DTI didn't even want them to head the mission but they were the only crew who had an angle to play with Nero, who'd gone up against the Narada and survived, and who were fully versed on all the public and classified details of what went down at Vulcan, the attempt on Earth, and the aftermath resulting in the Milanot disturbance - it was an obvious choice.
The mission essentially sentenced all crew members on the List (yes he’d capitalized it in his head) to a life of insignificance. Scotty and Chekov would be forced to watch as their younger selves receive fame and renown they should have had. All of them, standing back, letting their younger selves, the ones who belonged to that timeline, take on their rightful places. Of course that was just morbid - they could very well save the day and be on their way back to their time, though considering the stats Spock had been sprouting, it wasn’t likely. Jim felt like sighing - one thing at a time, he thought firmly, let’s not start planning the rest of his life and quiet retirement in the new time-stream before they’d even gotten there and completed their mission.
'Captain?' Spock gave him a quizzical look, one which said that he wanted to pick Jim’s brain. He quirked a small grin; it was rather satisfying to know that Spock found him equally frustrating. Well good, let the guy simmer, Jim mused, troubled as other thoughts began to intrude, including the fact he had to write something or say something, make a vid recording, to explain to his mom about the disappearing act, especially when this was a week before their big reunion on Deep Space 4… Jim frowned.
'You go ahead, Spock. I'll be up shortly.'
With a curt nod, still perplexed, his First Officer left him.
Jim exhaled explosively and ran a hand through his hair. He needed a drink.
Walking swiftly to his private console, he punched in his command codes and unlocked it, 'Computer, locate the Chief Medical Officer.'
-------
Location unknown, year 2245
'What are you doing?'
After James’ ill-advised attempt to escape, they had remained secluded in their enforced accommodations for many days, visited twice by various Romulan crew members who stared at them as if they were biological specimens on display at a menagerie. Two standard weeks had passed, judging by the amount of times food had been delivered and the regular visits to the bridge so the Romulan could gaze upon them “as a reminder”. As the days passed, even he felt compelled to pace about as James frequently did.
'We're in someone's quarters Spock. This isn't a proper brig.’ James was attempting to pry one of the wall panels loose, ‘Quarters have computer terminals. You know, door access, information, logs. Gotta be one under all this…’
‘Your intention is to modify and gain access to the ship’s computer?’
They spoke often to pass the time and Spock found himself taken back by the breadth of James’ knowledge - his companion had a sound grasp on the basics in topics ranging from transporters to advanced theoretical physics to current political events. He had been unaware that young humans tackled academic studies with such vigor; often he encountered the impression that they were immature and lacking in discipline, even Mother thought so though she did not seem to disapprove of their behavior as much as view them with a kind of veiled bemusement. He had also learned of James’ dissatisfaction with his brother’s cooking, his dead dog and a number of other irrelevant personal details.
‘Yeah. It’ll be a total cake walk.’
Spock remained silent, not understanding the exotic terminology. James mistook his silence for skepticism, and stopped what he was doing to glare at him.
‘Oh come on Spock! We been stuck here for weeks eating that - whatever-you-call-it.’
It had been approximately two weeks, and the food had been a constant as well as visitations to the bridge, often together, sometimes alone. Spock found it difficult to quell his reactions to the taunts and physical provocations and it was obviously more than James could endure, leading the human returning after every single time in a collection of bruises and abrasions for misbehavior.
‘Tayleea Cheecha,’ He offered, as that was the proper name given to dish by their guards.
‘Yes - that! I mean honestly, who cooks meat and fruit together like that!’
He did not understand why James chose to fixate on the irrelevant. Spock would have thought that their mistreatment and the obvious physical abuse James had suffered would have been more distasteful to him that their food. It was a logical dish - as James required the protein found in meat and he was a vegetarian, who could easily pick out the large portions of fruit and vegetable in it.
‘Look, I can do this, okay?’ James gave him a disgruntled look, ‘It’s not like they're a proper Romulan crew, at least they don’t seem like they’re part of the Romulan fleet. Did you notice how many doors we passed? And that big cavern with that rig thing? Not normal, not for a cruiser. Their security can’t be that good if they don’t even have a brig.'
Yes, Spock had noticed. There had been a lot of quarters, as well as the large pieces of heavy machinery of unknown design sitting in largely empty areas of the ship. Everything was exposed, as if constantly being fixed or rearranged; not the smooth well-kept interiors of a functional warship. James’ logic was sound.
‘Besides, you don’t honestly believe that guy do you?’ James looked vaguely distressed, his voice taking on a mocking harsh tone, ‘That whole story he’s got about coming from the future and getting us before we grow up and put a dent in his grand plans.’
James was lying. Spock tilted his head, perplex as to the source of his insight. James firmly believed Nero’s story, but he was denying it - how… illogical.
‘Humanity has long believed in the possibility of time travel - even when the Vulcan Science Academy had stated it impossible - and you yourself are aware of the theories recently postulated by the Federation Academy of Sciences on the possibilities of harnessing -‘
‘Okay okay, fine!’ James rolled his eyes, ‘But come on, if we go by what he says, he’s gonna keep us locked up for another twelve years! Spock, you’re Vulcan, you’re gonna be still alive until the end of next century - but that’s a tenth of my life.’
The intermingling of anguish and outrage on James’ face was peculiar.
This was not a typical hostage situation - there would be no negotiation with Starfleet, the Vulcan High Council or indeed their parents. The most singular Romulan was planning on keeping them his prisoners. According to him, James Kirk would go on to become a decorated Starfleet Captain, with him as First Officer, aboard a starship named Enterprise.
(‘There isn’t a starship named Enterprise,’ James said sotto voce, ‘Hasn’t been one since last century. I know my Starfleet history, Spock, he’s bullshitting or just plain crazy.’)
Spock had never entertained the notion of joining Starfleet, which begged the question if one were to take Nero’s story as the truth - what between now and his proposed entrance into the Vulcan Science Academy would prompt him to abandon a life planned for him since the day of his birth?
'What do you propose?'
James searched his face for something, and satisfied with what he observed, pointed at the panel he had been attempting to free earlier, ‘Lend me a hand with that.’
---------
After several hours of work, they had revealed what appeared to be a computer terminal. Between his recognition of the glyphs by comparing them to what little High Vulcan he knew and James’ affinity for computers, they made good progress. Spock was impressed. Within 48 hours, they had successfully isolated the controls for their door, as well as access to the ship’s database. It seemed they were on the mining ship Narada, commissioned for service of the Romulan Star Empire in the year 2381, captained by Nero.
Nero, singular as he was, did not lie.
Spock had considered the possibility of this having a negative effect on James’ mental and emotional health, but it seemed his concerns were unwarranted; James swiftly turned his attention to “breaking them out of this hellhole”.
The onboard ships sensors had shown that they were in the level just above the ships main deck. Without weapons or cover due to the large cavernous nature of the ship, any attempt to leave would only result in their swift recapture.
‘We got to try, Spock.’ James was determined, and rather persuasive, even if his arguments were emotionally invested, ‘Twelve years, Spock, if we sat around like he wants us to, it’s going to be twelve years. I want to go home, Spock, preferably while it’s still there.’
Thus, approximately one standard hour after their evening meal was delivered, they left their quarters.
-----
James licked his lips nervously, and peered over the console at the long gangway leading to the part of the ship where escape pods were kept. They had to get onto one and eject themselves within the hour if they wanted to be within burn distance of a habitable system. He turned when Spock joined him and gestured to the direction where the doorway was.
‘There, you see that?’
Spock laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, ‘Shh…’
James froze, wondering what Spock heard. He swallowed dryly and wondered if his heart was beating too loudly. This was kind of insane. Back in their room, it had seemed pretty easy. Open the door, down one deck, cross the secondary deck, and then they were on their sweet way off this junk. Now in the darkness, his nerves were giving out on him and the low lighting didn’t help. Everything was creepy.
He eyed Spock, who was looking even more rigid than usual. ‘What’s wrong?’ He whispered.
The Vulcan boy tilted his head to the left, ‘There is someone descending from the upper deck.’
Shit. He felt a wave of nausea. God he hasn’t been this nervous since that time he was waiting for his mom to pick him up from the police station after crashing dad’s car. Good times, he thought wryly, and quickly waved that away. Now was not the time.
‘Are they coming here? What are they doing? Spock? Spock!’
The Vulcan gave him a cool look, ‘We remain undiscovered…’
He exhaled in relief, ‘Great.’
‘… However they are on the main deck and their trajectory will place them directly above us.’
His stomach lurched. He looked up and quickly ducked lower, grabbing Spock and dragging him down as well. And that’s what he heard it. The slow rumbling footsteps of the Romulans, who tended to take their time and scuff their heels. Not good, especially if their sense of smell was as good as what Spock has.
‘I estimate that the likelihood of us being caught is 93.89%,’ Spock whispered against his ear.
He squeezed Spock’s forearm between his hands, ‘Shut. Up.’
-------
The punishment was old-fashioned - “flogging” which the Romulans apparently had in common with Earth humans. Spock had taken his two quick and brutal lacerations in shocked silence, shaken by the painful sensation of having his flesh flailed. It was only through meditation during and after the experience, and his ability to switch off pain receptors that he managed to endure. James had admitted to being the initiator of their escape, and had been sentenced to separate punishment - Nero's declaration that it would be twice as much of what Spock had endured troubled him. Humans usually didn't meditate, nor did they have conscious control over their bodily functions as he did - frankly, he feared for James' well being.
Spock was glad to have not been present for his companion's punishment - the smell of James’ blood when their Romulan captors had returned him was revolting enough that he would have embarrassed himself if he had been there. He didn’t know how a human withstood it; they were supposed to be weak creatures, prone to running out of breath, with soft bones and weak musculature. It was clear: attempted escape had terrible consequences - Spock didn't relish testing their captors again, but if they did... Spock contemplated the sensation of a cool human body shivering against his leg in torment, the smell of the blood, and felt a shudder of revulsion go through him. If there was a next time, he would lie and spare James.
There had been a fresh batch of medical supplies waiting for them, and Spock had washed his companion's wounds and bandaged them to the best of his limited abilities. Besides expressing his distress at the physical discomfort and crying a little, James seemed otherwise unaffected except for being excessively fatigued, and less responsive. By the time they were both able-bodied to help each other, days had passed.
‘I miss my mom. I’m sorry… that I argued with her the last time - if I’d know this would be happening, well… well, I’d probably still have argued with her, but I probably would have hugged her before she left you know, instead of avoiding her and all…’
He recognized the tones of James’ voice - it was regret. The boy continued: ‘…So yeah, I was kind of a shit… I’m me you know, but still, I would have hugged her, if I could go back. Hey Spock, if you had a chance to go back and do things over, what would you do?’
Spock leaned into the gentle sting of the bandages dipped in antiseptic with his chin tucked between his knees; the wounds on his back had begun to cover over, but were tender even though he had received them days ago.
‘I don’t see the point in theoretical -‘
‘Just answer the damn question.’ He could almost feel James rolling his eyes in the dark.
Very well…
Spock felt those words on the tip of his tongue; he was starting to appreciate why his father used them so often in conjunction with Mother’s presence, and in the presence of their frequent human visitors.
‘If I were able to go back in time, to bid Mother farewell, I would -‘ Laugh at her jokes, let her teach me to dance, ask her all the questions he had regarding human emotionalism that Father did not approve of… ‘- attend to her in her wet-planet observatory… and harvest roses.’
In the darkness, he heard James laugh, ‘Spock! No way! You wanna go pick flowers?’
‘Roses are not native to Vulcan and scientists at the VSA wet-planet observatory -’
There was a disbelieving laugh and then a push at the back of his head, surprising him enough that his head bent forwards by fifteen degrees.
‘Yeah, yeah, save it! I’m going to sleep, wake me when they’re back.’
He had expected James to be more upset regarding their recapture. It seemed he was wrong - again. Fascinating. Pulling his robes back over his head, he moved back under the cloth they used for warmth and meditated.
--------
They had been captured after crossing the gangway on the secondary deck this time.
‘Well, at least it’s further than we got last time.’ James smiled.
part four
the kids are so naughty... :)