Journey to Babel - Chapter Six - Part 2
Leonard Horatio McCoy is never surprised when Jim gets herself into situations like this. He knew the moment he met her that he'd be in for the craziest ride of his life. It's partially what's so attractive about her in the first place. She has this kind of energy that draws you in and she keeps you captive with that unbending will of hers. She pushes boundaries while also being a goddamn magnet for danger.
So watching Chekov and Scotty scramble to find ways to locate and retrieve their wayward Captain in that trap heap of a planet isn't anything relatively new.
Leonard just hopes that Spock is doing his job as First Officer by keeping her and Nyota safe. With this thought, he walks over to join Giotto, Sulu, and Dr. Cruise at the virtual map display on the thin transparent screen.
Dr. Cruise says, "The energy field is not so much a field as it is a current. Think of the oceans on Earth. There are certain interchangeable patterns affected by celestial influence which would cause a specific current to flow from one direction to another."
"Like ocean waves when the moon is at a certain distance," Sulu reasons as he crosses his arms.
Dr. Cruise coughs and mutters an apology. He pulls a napkin from his back pocket and coughs wetly into it.
Leonard frowns as he watches Dr. Cruise's eyes become unfocused for a moment as a thin layer of sweat breaks out across his brow.
"Excuse me," Dr. Cruise rasps. "But yes, Mr. Sulu. That is quite right." He indicates to the virtual maps and points specifically to the cold/heat signatures. "The fluctuations we see can be attributed to the energy field's mode of movement. The reason it is so impenetrable is because our sensors strike only the areas where it is not pliable. Perhaps if we braced ourselves against that impact, we would be able to breach it."
Sulu rubs his thumb against his pointer finger beside his chin as he studies the screen thoughtfully. "Is there a way to counteract the field? Some kind of device we can use?" he asks.
"Aye," Scotty says from behind the transporter console. "But essentially what you're asking for is an ultrasonic device which would need to be encapsulated in a magnetic chamber in order for it to reverse the effects of the currents."
"But we would be able to weaken currents!" Chekov quips energetically. "Once we do that, we can locate the Keptin and company."
"Hang on now," Scotty says, lifting a hand to silence Chekov. "In theory, this is good. In theory, this would work. In theory."
"Well what would it take to make it reality?" Sulu asks.
Scotty shakes his head for a moment and lifts his hands for a few speechless moment. "Uh-you'd have to already be down in the stratosphere of the planet, which cannae be done unless you knew someone who could pilot a shuttle so very keenly that they could manage to circumvent the currents and infiltrate the atmosphere."
"I can do that," Sulu says and remains unfazed when everyone looks at him. "I can do it."
"You do understand that the field is basically like a fluctuating barrier?" Scotty says, looking at Sulu like he doesn't know whether to be impressed or flummoxed by his insanity.
"I understand."
"Right, but do you also know that at the rate and speed of which you would need to pilot your little shuttle is just so that if you made impact with said barrier, you and your bloody shuttle would be crushed to dust?"
"I understand."
Scotty stares at him before he turns to Chekov. "Lad, please talk him down because I dinnae think he does."
Chekov glances to Sulu and Sulu silently meets his gaze.
Leonard watches their silent conversation with interest as he crosses his arms.
Finally, Chekov says, "I believe he can do it."
Sulu smiles silently and nods his head in thanks before he looks to Scotty expectantly.
"What, you're serious then? Have we no other options?" Scotty says, looking to the others for help.
"It is the most viable solution, and we are running short on time," Dr. Cruise reasons.
"I'm confident he can do it," Giotto agrees with a firm nod.
Scotty looks to Leonard but Leonard just shrugs and says, "Not the craziest thing we ever did. With our success rate, it might just pan out."
Scotty shakes his head and exclaims, "Fine! Alright you mad bastards, we'll try his suicidal idea." He huffs before he sits down. "All we need now is the retrogressive contraption we spoke of. I've got some spare magnetic chambers tucked away for a rainy day that has apparently come. Any idea where we can get an ultrasonic device?"
Everyone gets thoughtfully silent, but Leonard lifts his hand and says, "Would a medical tricorder do the trick?"
Scotty widens his eyes and nods hastily. "Aye! I dinnae know why I didn't think of that sooner. Right on time, you are."
"Well I ain't here to just stand around and look pretty," Leonard gripes. He turns to leave. "I'll be back with it."
"I'll go get a shuttle ready," Sulu says. He follows Leonard onto the turbolift.
Leonard says, "Lift to medbay."
"Lift to medbay," the computer chimes and the lift activates.
"Listen," Leonard says after a moment. "I didn't want to say anything when we were back there because you seemed dead set on carrying out this plan. But you're sure its what you wanna do?"
Sulu nods. "I'd be willing to try anything. It's Jim. I have to at least try. She'd do the same for us."
Leonard knows indefinitely how true that is.
"Besides," Sulu goes on to say. "I was first in my classes. Needless to say, I'm a little less worried than everyone else."
Leonard steps off the lift when it stops on his floor. He looks back to Sulu and says, "In any case, good luck."
"Thanks."
"Yeah, well, just remember that Jim won't ever forgive you if you die," Leonard reminds with a slight grin.
Sulu smiles and nods. "Lift to hangar bay."
"Lift to hangar bay," the computer echoes and the lift doors swish shut.
Leonard continues onto his domain and he flags Christine over when he arrives.
Christine rushes to his side with eagerly concerned eyes. "Did they find them?"
"Not nearly. But we've got a plan. Gather all the tricorders we got," Leonard says. "And pull up Dr. Cruise's file while you're at it."
Christine doesn't question the order like she normally would. She just nods and rushes off in a flurry.
Leonard is grateful for that. He doesn't feel up to arguing with anyone. He's already sick to his stomach with worry for Jim. He sighs as he tucks away in his office and sits behind his desk. He's in the middle of hunting down all the tricorders he keeps in there when the desk monitor pings to life with a comm link he recognizes right away. He frowns as he answers it.
Kenya's lovely face appears on the screen and her smile falters as she notices the worry that must be written in plain lines across his face. "What is the matter?"
"Complications of a mission," Leonard says vaguely. He's aware that he can't share the details because of protocol.
Kenya nods and doesn't press because she understands. "I have to go to New York. I wanted you to know."
Leonard frowns. "Why?"
Kenya smiles at the concern she detects in his voice. "Because Jocelyn ask me to come over. She is campaigning for her re-election to mayor. She needs me to keep an eye on Joanna and Joey."
Leonard forgets sometimes that his ex-wife had a baby by another man while they were still legally married. He forgets because he doesn't like to think about it. It's a hurtful reminder.
"Don't make that face," Kenya says smartly. "Save that face for what I'm about to tell you next."
Leonard lifts an eyebrow.
"Jocelyn let it slip who Joey's biological father is and you will never believe," Kenya says. "It's Gary."
Leonard's eyes widen with his disbelief. "Gary? As in Gary Mitchell?"
Kenya nods. "She said it happened on one random weekend she spent in New York, before you two divorced and she made the decision to come and run for mayor."
Leonard does a bit of calculating in his head. That's a little more than four years ago, which mean the kid's about three. This must have either happen while he was still going to the Academy. "Jesus, that guy got around," he mutters as his mind begins to click away. He'll have to do more research about it, and maybe even talk to Jocelyn. That's standing to be a positively wonderful exchange. Leonard sighs as he rubs at his forehead tiredly and goes searching for his special stash of bourbon.
"Well, I won't hold you long," Kenya says, picking up on his mood almost instantly and that makes him feel guilty and selfish. "I just wanted you to know about that. And also so you can be able to say your goodnights to Kamaria. She misses you terribly, you know."
Leonard smiles slightly. "Yeah, I know," he says quietly. "I miss her too."
"She's said her first word," Kenya announces and reaches out of view to pull Kamaria on her lap. The gorgeous girl is sucking on her tiny fists. "And she's still teething terribly."
"You've been rubbing that ointment on her gums like I told you?" Leonard says distractedly as he smiles at Kamaria and waves, chuckling softly when she makes an excited sound and bounces in her mother's lap.
"Yes, and it works just as well," Kenya promises. "Now hush and pay attention."
Leonard stays obediently silent.
"Who's that, Kama? Hm? Who's that?" Kenya says, pointing to Leonard.
"Dada," Kamaria mumbles and slaps her hands against the screen excitedly. "Dada!"
Leonard feels his heart melt like wax against his ribcage.
Kenya smirks knowingly. "Say goodnight, Doctor. You owe her a bedtime story."
"Goodnight," Leonard says faintly and he knows it comes out a little strained. He has half a mind to climb through that damn screen and hug the both of them with no intention of letting go. He swallows and clears his throat. But he has a job to do, first and foremost. "I'll contact you when everything blows over here."
"You better, moyo wangu," Kenya warns, voiced laced with affection.
Leonard feels something warm unfurl in his chest and he aims a half smile at her. "Goodnight, darlin'."
Kenya winks and helps Kamaria wave goodbye to him before she kills the connection.
Leonard sighs as his office suddenly feels too big, too cold, and too quiet.
Christine comes in with her arms full of tricorders and she dumps them onto his desk.
"Easy now," Leonard fusses as he reaches forward to keep some of them from toppling onto the ground.
"Sorry, sorry," Christine says before handing over a virtual file. "Any reason you needed that?"
"Gut feelin'," Leonard mutters as he quickly grazes the most recent information. His brow furrows deeply at what he finds.
Looks like he has some more research to do.
888
It took a couple of hours to gather the 'ingredients' needed to perform the incantation.
Jim is tired and sore by the time she has rounded up the last of them and she meets Spock back at the base of the pyramid where it all started. She figures it would be the best place to carry out the invocation.
Spock is already there and he's standing before a small fire burning green because of the white wood being used to keep it alive. His hands are clasped behind him and his facial expression makes him appear as unaffected by this turn of events as possible.
Jim steels herself before she joins him. "Okay," she sighs as she drops everything in her arms. "I got a beast of the air, or a bird if you prefer to call it. Don't ask me how, I'd rather not repeat that experience." She looks down at the small green bird with its limp neck that she had snapped with the aid of a stick. "I've got a beast of the water, so basically a fish. A beast of the ground, and since I saw this glittery firefly hatch from the ground, I figured it would do the job. So now what?"
"You must throw them to the fire," Spock flatly instructs. "With your blood attached to each."
Jim cringes at that but she nods determinedly. She walks over to the pyramid and lowers herself to her knees. She balls up her right hand and takes a deep breath before she slams her knuckles into the edge of a stone step until her wounds open up again. She returns to the fire with a bloody hand and picks up the lifeless bird, letting her blood drip over it.
She says, "God, this has got to be maybe like the third craziest thing I've ever did," she mutters. "But it's for Nyota so, tell me what to do."
"You must have a strong desire," Spock says. "It has to be evident in your heart as you offer these biota ransoms. Focus your intent. You must call it by its name quietly."
"What name? What's the name?"
"It is unclear but most of the depictions referred to the deity as the 'Great Mother'. Perhaps you should do so as well," Spock suggests.
Jim nods and sighs. She closes her eyes and keeps her mind steady as she thinks about Nyota. She moves her lips silently as she says, "Come to me, Mother."
The bird is tossed in the fire and the flames hiss as a cloud of smoke puffs up and takes to the air.
The wind picks up and shudders through the white forest noisily.
Jim closes her eyes and keeps her mind steady as she thinks about Nyota. She moves her lips silently as she says, "Come to me, Mother."
The glittery firefly gets tossed in the fire and the flames hiss as a cloud of smoke puffs up and takes to the wind.
Jim closes her eyes and keeps her mind steady as she thinks about Nyota. She moves her lips silently as she says, "Come to me, Mother."
The silver fish gets tossed in the fire and the flames hiss as a cloud of smoke puffs up and takes to the wind.
Jim opens her eyes as the wind begins to roar around them. She crouches down and gathers some dirt in her cupped hands. She spits in it three times before she throws it to the fire.
The wind howls and sweeps around them before falling over the fire, causing it to build up largely that Spock and Jim are forced to take a step back. But within the next moment, the flames of the fire wail violently before distinguishing altogether in a cloud of red smoke.
Jim blinks and looks around, waiting.
Nothing happens.
"Um," Jim says. "Did I just sell my soul or something because that was not what I was trying to do?"
Spock glances over to her briefly before he moves to study the remains left behind by the fire. "You performed the incantation with perfect precision."
"Wow. That's a compliment. A very weird compliment."
"I do not understand why the spirit did not appear," Spock continues, ignoring her entirely.
"Maybe we just need to wait a little bit longer," Jim supposes as she moves to sit down on the second stone step of the pyramid with her lower back pressed against the third step. She blows gently on her stinging knuckles.
Spock furrows his brow before he straightens. "Perhaps," he vaguely concedes. He glances at her and his brow furrows even further as he gazes at her hand. He turns and walks over to a small bush with elongated leaves. He takes one before he joins Jim. "Hold this."
Jim takes it, watching him curiously.
Spock pats the ground around the base of the pyramid before he finds some moist soil. He gathers a good quantity in his pale hand. He then turns to Jim and settles on his knees before her. He looks up at her and says, "Your injuries have worsened."
"It's fine."
"It is not," Spock disputes. "You are being illogical."
"Maybe." Jim shrugs and peers at him. "Why? Are you going to be a little gentlemen and help me?"
Spock's expression withers as his cheeks tinge with a faint green hue, as does the tip of his ears. "If you will excuse the intimacy," he acknowledges. "I may be able to assist you with your injury. Our hands will have to touch."
"Fine." Jim shrugs. "You don't have to be embarrassed."
"Vulcans do not experience embarrassment," Spock quickly corrects, even though his flush deepens. It gives way to his true age, even though for the last couple of hours he's been trying to display himself as much more mature than he actually is. He carefully grabs her wrist and positions her hand more accessibly. He begins to gently pat some wet dirt over her injures with careful focus.
Jim has to remind herself that despite his intelligence and courage, he really is just a kid. She shouldn't be so harsh on him. She says, "How do you know what to do? I mean, how do you know this will work?"
"Since my mother's arrival on Vulcan, she has procured vast academic knowledge in terms of ethnobotany. There is much I have learned from her, and much I shall continue to learn," Spock explains with slight affection in his indifferent tone.
"Your mom sounds like a great lady."
"Indeed. This is something I can confirm," Spock concedes, and there is no mistaking the pride in his voice.
Jim says, "Well, I'm grateful for the help. You've been really-cool about all this. It's been crazy and you've kept a level head. I can't say the same about myself, I'm sure. I mean I just literally performed some kind of witchy spell that kinda looks like it turned out to be a dud. But desperate times call for desperate measures. And I did make Nyota a promise. You didn't have to go along with any of this or help me or anything. Though I guess there is safety in numbers. Not that I don't think you can take care of yourself. You obviously know how to defend yourself if this bruise around my neck is any indication. I still plan on paying you back for that by the way, so don't think I've forgotten. But I can wait on that for now. Anyway, just, thanks for putting up with me. I know I'm not an easy person to deal with."
Spock says nothing but somehow he exudes humor even though there isn't a trace of it on his face as he continues to cover Jim's bloody knuckles with the dirt. He takes the elongated leaf from her other hand and begins to wrap it around her hand, manually flipping her palm to face up so that he can tie the leaf off.
"Thanks," Jim says as she takes her hand back.
Spock stands and straightens as he tucks his hands behind him. "Thanks are unnecessary," he merely replies with that stoic tone of his. He turns and sits down on the first stone step and silently gazes at the edge of the white forest.
Jim sighs tiredly as she leans back and lies against the steps. Her gaze is pulled up to the darkened sky and the stars that twinkle in it. She can still see the vague outline of that ship hovering above the planet. She blinks as her eyelids start to droop, and before she can help it, she's falling asleep.
A touch, ghosting across her left cheek, jerks her awake. Her heart pounds painfully as she sits up and blinks confusedly as a blanket of fog rolls off of her body.
There is fog everywhere. So thick, Jim can barely make out anything. The ground feels soft and wet under her, and she can hear the sound of rushing water.
The riverbank.
"Spock?" Jim calls quietly and waits for a response.
"I am here," Spock replies and he appears from the left. He crouches down on his knees so that they are eye level.
"How did we get here?"
"You walked."
"What?"
"You walked here. I merely followed, and then the condensation thickened around us," Spock explains.
A sharp crack echoes above in the sky.
"What-what was that?" Jim asks, narrowing her blue eyes as she tries to make the source of the sound out.
"I believe it is a shuttle. The continuing frequency and pitch of the sound would suggest that this is the source. I believe the ship has sent help to retrieve us."
"We can't leave yet. Not without Nyota-"
A sharp crack echoes above in the sky.
"Jim, it may be paramount to-" Spock stops suddenly and pales.
Jim tries not to worry. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"
"It would appear that my feet are being held in place by a sprouting shrub," Spock explains stiffly. "It is coiling around me as we speak."
Jim looks down but it's hard to see with all the fog. She doesn't have to wait long, however, because she sees the white wildflower he's speaking of. It's winding around his legs, up to his waist, spreading up his body like a bewitched vine until it covers his body from shoulder to foot like white rope.
Spock wiggles as best as he can but the white vine pulses around him and tightens, causing a green flush to spread across his body from discomfort.
A sharp crack echoes above in the sky.
Jim lunges forward and attempts to rip it from his body but to no avail, it only tightens further and Spock gasps tensely.
"Don't struggle, precious," a new voice says with a chuckle. "You will only make it worse and the vine will snap you and your little bones clean through."
Jim stiffens, as does Spock, and the fog clears partially to reveal a segment of the green river. She says, "Who's there?"
"Did you not summon me, little one?"
Jim rarely allows herself to experience bone-deep fear but in this moment it can't be helped. "So you know what I want," she says.
"Your cry was particularly appealing, I couldn't resist. So I will make you a deal."
"I know what you want. Children, right? You can take me." Jim eyes narrow as she watches as a naked female begins to rise slowly out of the water like a menacing crocodile would.
A sharp crack echoes above in the sky.
She stops when her feet are hovering over the green water. She has burnt sienna skin, white eyes absent of pupils, sharp pointed teeth, and raven hair, which floats about her face and shoulders and breasts as if she were still underwater. She looks like a monster.
"You can take me," Jim repeats.
"How sweet," the monster says. "But unfortunately, little one, I can not take what has already be claimed. You are promised to another and that mark has been laden so boldly into you." It glances to Spock with a certain look.
Jim frowns and tries not to read into it. "Then what do you want?"
"Freedom," the monster merely replies. "I make many deals, but it is rare that I am tricked into captivity. It would appear that the species here was a lot more formidable then I had expected. I am trapped here. And so I have trapped them as well. But the souls of the people haunt me and offer me no rest. Surely you've heard the whispers in the trees." Again it looks to Spock. "This has been my playground for nearly a century. I tire of it. I need release."
"How could I set you free?" Jim asks.
The monster smiles and she's got a scary amount of teeth. "Petition the God of Stars. You know him well, perhaps as well as the God of Death. He is good with bindings."
"I wouldn't even know how to find him or it or whatever," Jim protests.
"You won't have to find him. He will come to you. That is how it usually works. He will come to you, I am sure. He has left his mark in your body," the monster boasts and grins shrewdly. "There is a reason they call him the Witch Doctor."
Jim frowns as the monster approaches her. "You promise to give Nyota back? Give her back first and I'll do what you ask," she vows.
The monster nods and sways her hand over the water.
Nyota rises from the depths of the water, peacefully unconscious and unaware. It's almost like a page out of Sleeping Beauty.
Jim quickly climbs into the water and gathers Nyota's small body into her arms. She shudders in relief as she feels the steady in and out pattern of Nyota's chest.
"My word is my bond," the monster vows, watching Jim aimlessly. "Your companions will return to their normal state and bear no recollection of the events that transpired. But you will remain as you are and you will remember what you have promised me. I will give you seven days. Until then, you shall remain as the child you are and you will always look as you are now. One day Death will come for you and you will not know it because your body will remain as a child, giving no indication to your true age."
Jim shivers but she nods. "I understand."
"Then sleep," the monster murmurs, waving her hand towards them.
Before Jim can make sense of it, her mind falls into darkness, and then, she knows nothing.
888
A scorpion and a frog meet on the bank of a stream and the scorpion asks the frog to carry him across on its back. The frog asks, "How do I know you won't sting me?" The scorpion says, "Because if I do, I will die too."
The frog is satisfied, and they set out. But in midstream, the scorpion stings the frog. The frog feels the onset of paralysis and starts to sink, knowing they both will drown, but has just enough time to gasp, "Why?"
Replies the scorpion: "It's my nature…"
888
Jim's blue eyes spring open.
The panic that stabs her in the gut is almost suffocating. Her body feels sluggish, and different somehow. She feels like she's trying to swim through molasses and the bright artificial lights overhead are damn near blinding. They burn hotly against her eyes, causing a sting of tears to pool in the corners and she's forced to blink it away as she hyperventilates.
There's a noise.
A sort of harsh buzzing and the detached voice of a computer spouting out a warning from behind her as she sits up shakily. She looks around and tries to focus her vision, peeling off the medical tape and the IV before a dark-haired man and a curvy blonde comes rushing to her bedside. She touches her throat and frowns when she feels no bruises. The frown deepens when she notices her right hand has been wrapped in gauze. She can't remember how she got here or like this and so she starts having a fit.
"Calm down, Jim!" the man says as he glares at her readings and at her. "You're safe. You're fine."
"Don't touch me!" Jim snaps and snatches her arm from him. He's a doctor and she hates doctors. She hates them. Ever since that fucktruck of a butcher who called himself a doctor on Tarsus cut her open and neutered her like some kind of wild animal. She doesn't trust doctors. She hates them. "Don't touch me," she growls again. She grabs the IV needle and holds it up warningly to her own neck. "Step back."
The man grimaces and he pales slightly when he sees the severity of how far Jim is willing to go. "Okay, okay," he says gently and takes a few steps back. "Let's not do anything hasty. I'm not trying to hurt you, Kid. I only want to help. Don't you remember me?"
Jim narrows her eyes at him.
"It's me. Leonard McCoy. Long time friend of yours. Best friend. We've been through hell and high water together," he promises. "You call me Bones. Can't ever say why or what for. Just that you do."
"Bones?" Jim repeats but she doesn't lower the needle away from her neck. "I don't remember you. And don't call me kid. I'm fourteen."
"I can see that," Bones swears as he looks her over quickly. "I've been scratching my head about that ever since they brought you back."
Jim glares at him. "I don't like doctors.I don't trust them."
"You can trust me," Bones says with such startlingly sincerity it almost makes Jim hesitate and want to.
Jim ignores the feeling in her gut that says she should. She grips the needle tighter. "Who are you?" she says, nodding to the curvy blonde. "Are we friends too?" she asks, practically spitting the word.
"I'm Christine. Chapel. We-yes, we're friends, Jim," Christine promises.
"Are you a doctor too?" Jim merely asks and doesn't miss the way she hesitates. That says it all. "Right. Well. Where am I?"
Bones frowns, as does Christine. He says, "You're on the USS Enterprise. Your ship."
"I don't have a ship," Jim simply says, like the two of them are idiots. "I'm fourteen. How could I?"
"You aren't-you weren't always fourteen. You're actually twenty," Bones carefully corrects with a somber frown. "Twenty-one come the twenty-second of April."
"I don't care that you know when my birthday is," Jim says, unimpressed.
"Jim, please," Bones says and takes a bold step forward. "You've been unconscious for the last three hours. I only want to make sure you're okay. Now you can stab me with that needle anytime you feel even remotely unsafe. But I need you to let me do my job."
Jim stares at him. "You're giving me permission to stab you?"
Bones looks hilariously exasperated. "Yes, I suppose I am, God help me. But if it gets you to trust me, then fine. Just know that I trust you won't actually do it."
"Why?" Jim says, doubtfully.
"Because you got good instincts, Kid. I already know what they're saying about me," Bones replies, confidently.
Jim's mouth fidgets and she lowers the needle. "Fine," she concedes. "Where are Spock and Nyota?"
"They're safe. They made it out a lot better than you did, apparently. Though they swear up and down they can't remember a thing. Not much help to me if I can't figure out how you got this way," Bones says as he grabs his tricorder and gets to work with scanning her from head to toe. "Do you remember anything?"
Jim shrugs because she does. She remembers everything that happened and it reminds her that she has a deadline to meet. "I want to see them," she says.
Bones pulls away and glances up at the readings on the biofunction monitor behind her before he turns to Christine with a nod.
Christine walks away and that agitates Jim. She doesn't like to be ignored.
"You're still dehydrated," Bones mutters gruffly. "But other than that you're as healthy as an ox, given the circumstances that is."
"Bull," Jim says absentmindedly as she traces her eyes over his face. She tries not to grin at the confused look he gets. She explains, "I'm a Taurus. Taurus horoscope emulates the bull. Look it up if you don't believe me."
"I believe you," Bones says with an amused frown. He carefully pries the needle from her hand and puts it out of reach.
Jim does her best to look contrite. "Look, I'm sorry about before. I wasn't trying to be difficult. I was just scared."
"It's fine. I understand. You don't remember much so I can't exactly hold that against you," Bones reasons and he looks so genuinely concerned that Jim feels almost guilty for trying to emotionally manipulate him.
"Well thank you for being so understanding," Jim continues with a shaky smile. She has a deadline to meet. It's become the mantra in her head now. "I can kinda see why we're best friends. Though you've gotta be just a little nuts to put up with me."
"You have your good days," Bones admits with a slight grin that makes him look a little younger.
Jim clears her throat purposefully and says, "I'm thirsty. Could I-would you mind if I troubled you for some water?"
Bones nods.
"Don't drug it," Jim teases and crosses her arms.
Bones snorts and disappears from sight.
Jim waits until she's absolutely sure he's gone before she swings her feet over the edge of the biobed and jumps off. She creeps towards the exit, keeping an eye over her shoulder, and when she makes it to the corridor, she runs to the end of the hall. She stabs her finger into the call button impatiently. When the door swishes open, she gets in and looks around.
"How do you work this stupid thing?" Jim mutters.
"Request not identified. Please try again," the computer chimes.
Jim blinks. "Take me to-" She has no idea where she's going. She has to really think. "Take me up?"
"Request not identified. Please try again," the computer chimes.
"Uh-I want to go to somewhere else?" Jim tries.
"Request not identified. Please try again," the computer chimes.
"Fucking move, you stupid piece of machinery!" Jim snaps and kicks at the door.
"Request not identified. Please try again," the computer chimes.
"Don't make me hack you because I totally will," Jim warns.
"Request not identified. Please try again," the computer chimes.
Jim lets out a frustrated sound and yelps when the lift moves on its own accord.
It stops three levels down and opens to a tall Vulcan male and a dark-skinned woman. The both of them blink at her in surprise.
"Please tell me you weren't just trying to go off on your own," the dark-skinned woman says with a cocked brow.
"Um," is Jim's clever reply. She shrugs slowly. She looks at the two of them. "I'm just trying to find my friends."
The dark-skinned woman smiles suddenly while the Vulcan lifts a brow in barely perceptible amusement. She says, "Don't you recognize us, Jim?"
Jim frowns because, no, she doesn't. She takes a moment to study them and second by second she senses a familiarity in their features. Then it hits her. "Nyota?"
Nyota grins.
Jim looks to the Vulcan. "Spock?"
Spock merely inclines his head.
"But you're both-so old," Jim says with a face.
Nyota's grin withers into a scowl and her expression flattens out. "Careful. You might hurt my feelings," she says without inflection.
"Oh, no, sorry," Jim rushes to explain. "It's just. You're different now. It's not a bad thing. You look-you both look-nice." She blushes and fidgets, suddenly feeling as young as she must look to them. She feels kind of stupid. "Um. I was coming to find you. I wanted to make sure you were okay."
"We're safe," Nyota promises. "I imagine it's thanks to you but I can't remember."
"I made you a promise," Jim says, shyly. "I had to keep it."
Nyota smiles softly before she motions Jim to come out of the turbolift.
Jim stays right where she is.
"Come on," Nyota urges. "It's okay." She smiles gently again and she looks so pretty.
It makes Jim a bit self-concious.
"You know I have to return the favor, right?" Nyota says. "You're the only one that hasn't been shifted back to normal," she points out. "Spock and I have been trying to figure out a way to fix that."
"I don't need to be fixed," Jim says, a little defiantly. She's not trying to be so defensive but she doesn't need everyone treating her like a defective toy.
Nyota says, "No. Of course not. I didn't mean it like that."
Jim crosses her arms but she steps out of the turbolift. They can't really help her. It's something she has to do on her own. She has a deadline to meet.
"Are you hungry?" Nyota asks, brown eyes studying her face very carefully. "We could get something to eat before we get into the thick of things. In fact, why don't you let Spock take you to the Mess Hall and I'll go see Dr. McCoy about you. I'm sure he's only seconds away from issuing an APB on your behalf."
Jim glances to Spock and he's already looking back at her. It's different from before, when he was younger and looked at her like he couldn't figure her out at all. Now, his dark eyes are piercing, like he just knows her. It makes a small flush crawl onto her cheeks, and she has the sudden urge to run and hide.
Nyota smirks before she climbs on the lift with a quaint little wave.
Jim presses her lips together and drops her hands to her sides. She looks at Spock expectantly before she glances away. She's going to have to ditch him eventually. She has a deadline to meet.
Spock presses the call button with one of his pale fingers and they wait silently.
Jim feels awkward and out of place. He's like a whole foot taller than her and it's unnerving. "So," she says, just to break the silence. "I'm told this is my ship?"
"Indeed. You are the commanding officer of this vessel," Spock replies as he tucks his hands behind him. He shifts his gaze away and Jim feels like she can breathe a little easier. They step onto the lift together. "You are fond of it in ways I am yet to comprehend."
"Am I?" Jim says as she glances around. She used to want to be a Captain, but she knows the reality is that she isn't fit for the title. It's a pipe dream. So she lies and says, "I don't really see the big deal. It's nice, I guess."
"Perhaps you would like a tour?" Spock suggests as the lift stops and the door swishes open.
Jim follows him. "Sure I guess. Tours are cool."
Spock raises his eyebrow slightly as he glances at her and she can feel her cheeks heating again.
"Um," Jim pauses to cough awkwardly and look away. She should really get a hold of herself. She doesn't need to act like some little kid with a crush. There's an obvious age gap here and Jim is so not even thinking about it. "Do you, uh, really not remember what happened down there?" she asks curiously as they stride down the corridor.
"Affirmative," Spock replies. "I recall things up to a point. There is a substantial gap, however, from the time we departed to the time we returned."
Jim thinks about the moment she woke up sandwiched between Spock and Nyota at the base of that crystallized pyramid. She remembers feeling disorientated and panicked. She remembers having to take charge since she was the oldest. She remembers having lost Nyota, after she specifically made her a promise to keep her safe. She remembers what she had to do in order to get her back. She remembers she has a deadline to meet.
"Do you have a standing preference for what you would like to eat?" Spock asks, jarring her from her thoughts.
Jim blinks and notices that they are in the Mess Hall. There are other officers there, and she feels their curious gazes. They must know who she is. Plus, the fact that she's still in the captain's uniform from earlier probably only confirms their suspicions. Even though she wants to retreat, she braves those gazes and follows Spock to retrieve some food. She says nothing as she gets a tray filled with a bowl of salad, a tuna sandwich, an apple, some pretzels, and a bottle of water.
Spock gets a cup of tea for himself and not much else.
Together, they sit across from each other in a booth, and Jim picks around her food with no serious intention. She picks up her green apple and thumbs away at the skin. She says, "You're a lot more interesting like this."
"Indeed?" Spock counters with a raised brow. "I am given to understand that you have encountered a younger version of myself."
"I did. He was-I mean, you were-a bit too-though you did kind of-but then again-um, I don't know." Jim shrugs as her cheeks turn a little pink. She's not sure what she trying to say and he keeps looking at her with those stupid know-it-all eyes. It's bothering her. "Anyway," she says quickly to cover the gap of silence. "The planet we were on-what's it called?"
"Armus IX. It is a class M planet," Spock explains.
"You said we went down there willingly. Why? Are we explorers?" Jim asks. She knows very well how Starfleet operates. These are tedious questions. She wants him distracted. She can't slip away if he isn't distracted enough.
"In a sense," Spock loosely confirms. He takes a moment to pause his speech in order to drink some of his steaming tea. His dark eyes watching her from over the rim.
Jim fidgets anxiously. "Well, why did we go down to explore? You can tell me. I'm the captain right? I can order you to tell me."
"Undoubtedly, that would be, as a rule, a fairly accurate assumption, but given the circumstances and the reduction of your present age, I am not duty bound to follow through with such a request," Spock cleverly counters.
Jim digs her nails into her apple until juice fizzes out from the punctures as she stares at him with annoyed blue eyes. He seems unaffected by it and continues to drink his tea. She wants to punch him. "I'm fourteen," she points out.
"Indeed. 177 months, 768 weeks, and 5381 days old by Earth's standards," Spock deduces, almost listlessly.
Jim gapes. "How could you possibly know that?"
"With the use of anatomical physics," Spock states in simple terms.
Jim narrows her eyes. "Are you a doctor too? I don't like doctors."
"I am not a physician," Spock says. That's all he says.
Jim is annoyed by his short answers. "Then what are you? Besides a hybrid Vulcan. What do you do on this ship?"
"I hold the rank of a Commander, as well as the title of First Officer and Science Officer. Therefore there are quantities of projects that require my attention," Spock dutifully explains.
"So basically you're twice as busy as everyone on this ship. What are you, like a poster child for productivity?" Jim asks as she takes a bite of her apple.
Spock looks vaguely amused. "Certainly not, Jim," he says after a while. "I merely fulfill all obligations that both titles demand."
"Well you must do it very well if I picked you for my First Officer," Jim supposes. She waits a beat before she asks, "What am I like? As a-person. Future me, I mean. What am I like?"
"You have a very energetic disposition, and a rigid sense of right and wrong that often leads to unadvisable acts of heroism," Spock clarifies, very carefully. He seems to be picking and choosing what he tells her.
Jim thinks that maybe the reason everyone is tiptoeing around her is because they are worried that telling her too much information will mess her up somehow. They're all idiots.
Spock goes on to say, "You are sincerely compassionate towards cultures unlike your own. And you possess a complex sense of humor I have yet to grasp."
Jim furrows her brow with deep contemplation. That doesn't really sound like her. Well, it does, but it doesn't at the same time. She sounds different-mature. And maybe something else. "Am I satisfied with my life?" she asks quietly. "Do I seem-happy?"
Spock takes a moment to contemplate these questions as he takes a long sip of his tea. Finally, he says, "I believe you are still restless in some ways. In others-you appear to be content."
Jim nods slowly as she takes that in. So she's not a bitter and angry woman with a vendetta against the universe. She supposes that's a good thing. "And what about-" she pauses to find the right words. "Am I married or something?"
Spock's hands still in the midst of him lowering his mug to the table once more. He seems surprised by the question, though he's doing very well by not letting any trace of it show on his face.
Jim waits for him to say something but he seems stuck somehow. She grins a little in amusement. "Did I break you?"
Spock furrows his brow before he fully recovers. "Pardon me, I am unsure of how to answer your inquiry."
"A simple yes or no would do, I think," Jim offers, still humored by the situation.
"The nature of it is far from simple," Spock replies lowly. Louder, he says, "You are not married."
Jim's curious over that. "But I am seeing someone. Who is it? Won't they freak when they see me? Okay you have to tell me so I can go freak them out."
Spock appears to be amused again. "I doubt they will be 'freaked' by your current appearance," he states vaguely.
"So they already know?"
"I believe so."
Jim sighs and crosses her arms. "How come you won't tell me who they are?"
"Because I believe there are more pressing matters to be attended to," Spock simply replies and finishes the rest of his tea.
"Fine," Jim mutters and stabs her fork into her salad. "What about you? Are you married?"
Spock is definitely amused now. "Negative."
"So you're dating someone?" Jim presses and fidgets in her seat.
"I am currently in a relationship," Spock indefinably confirms.
Jim can't say why that disappoints her. "Oh." She frowns and continues to stab her fork into a baby tomato. "Is she pretty?"
"She is highly aesthetically pleasing."
"Does she work on this ship?" Jim asks innocently.
"Indeed."
"Is she Vulcan too?"
"Negative. Though she is closely familiar with the customs, as well as the culture and the language," Spock replies and for some reason that makes Jim think of Nyota.
But-that couldn't be-she couldn't be it, could she? Jim remembers that Nyota mentioned wanting to do something with languages when she grew up. And she also remembers that Nyota is wearing the insignia badge for communications. So she could very well be familiar with Vulcan customs and so on.
She had a ring on, Jim thinks as she tosses Spock fleeting glances. So she's either married or engaged.
"Are you engaged?" Jim asks, because the answer will undoubtedly solve the riddle.
"In a fashion," Spock loosely responds.
Well, that just confirms it then. Spock and Nyota are in a relationship.
Jim's frown deepens and she shoves her plate away. "Do I have a room? Can you take me to it?"
Spock inclines his head and stands. He takes her tray for her and moves to put it in its designated area.
Jim lets him lead her to her private quarters. She's not expecting much but she is surprised by what she finds when they enter. The space is very open and wide. She's got all-white furniture, and her bed is littered with various pillows of shapes and sizes. As far as stylistic choice goes, the colors of her appliances and floor mats and couch pillows and comforters are patterned after a sort of cool cucumber green and baby blue and crème orange. It reminds her of the beach and she loves it.
"This is definitely my room," Jim mutters as she wanders around. She pokes and prods at the things on her work desk and blinks in confusion at the pictures there. She doesn't ask because she has a feeling Spock wouldn't be completely forthcoming in the answers. So she moves on and tucks away in her walk-in closet, amazed by the glorious heaps of clothes and shoes she finds. She's happy to note that she's grown a few pants sizes up, but she's disappointed by the bra sizes she finds.
Spock is still standing by the door when she reappears.
"I think I'm going to just take a nap or something," Jim announces with a minor shrug. "You can stop chaperoning me now."
"Very well. I will leave you to rest," Spock decides and he walks towards the bathroom. "In the interest of your wellbeing, should you require my presence, I will be easily located in the quarters adjacent from yours. Our rooms are attached through this lavatory."
"Oh," Jim says, because that is a small comfort. "Okay."
Spock inclines his head and disappears to his own room.
Jim lets out a heavy sigh once she's alone and she moves to her work desk. It's not hard for her to track down a PADD or crack the encryption on it (after all, it is her device) and she gets to work with hunting down what she can find in terms of this 'God of Stars'.
She has a deadline to meet.
It's all mysticism and legend.
There's nothing solid or concrete that can give her a solid lead. This guy is practically a ghost. An urban myth. A story told from generations to generations around campfires and painted on cave walls.
Jim could almost believe he isn't real.
Almost.
See, the thing is, he may be an urban myth or some outlandish story, but it's one that shows up constantly in multiple cultures, from different species, on various planets.
Anyone can chalk that up to pure coincidence or random phenomena but Jim knows better. No matter how shrouded his true identity may be, there is a very authentic possibility that this 'God of Stars' is real.
Jim gets right into the thick of her research when her exhaustion makes itself really known. She yawns and blinks and smacks at her cheeks, all in the name of staying awake. But to no avail-the words start spilling together, switching places, and running down the screen like black oil.
Jim sighs and presses her elbows against the edge of the desk while she digs the heels of her hands into her eyes. Her body sags of it's own violation and when she feels herself slump forward she jerks awake. She blinks and yawns again, shaking her head and trying to perk herself up.
Jim leans back in the chair and rubs her face tiredly as the ever-present tick, tick, ticking of the clock on the wall behind her does its best to lull her to sleep. Her eyelids droop as she dazedly swipes her fingers across the screen of her PADD to pull up the next page of data. Lower and lower her head falls until her chin hits her chest and startles her awake.
Jim lets out a frustrated growl and she rubs at her eyes.
A deep chuckle rings through the room.
Jim stiffens as cold fingers worm over her shoulders and begins massaging the flesh.
"Tired, princess?" a deep voice says.
Jim trembles with bone-deep fear. "You're not real," she whispers. "You can't be here."
"Are you really sure?" Kodos's horrid laughter echoes like grating steel. "You didn't really think you'd be rid of me, did you?"
Jim shudders as those cold fingers ghost over the soft flesh of her neck and settles there like a dark promise. "You're not real," she chants, squeezing her eyes shut. "Not real. Not real. I'm dreaming. I'm dreaming. Please let me be dreaming."
"It's no dream, you little fucking bitch!" Kodos snarls and Jim jumps. "You know what you owe me? Tell me what you owe me!"
"Not real," Jim gasps as hot tears slide down her eyes. "Not real."
"You answer me or I slice your pretty face to ribbons," Kodos hisses lowly and he lowers his cracked lips to the shell of her left ear. "Shall we paint you red, princess? Would you like that? Red is the color of passion."
Jim wheezes as her panic seizes her lungs and makes them contract painfully.
"Answer me you ungrateful little shit!" Kodos snaps. "I built you an empire and you burned it to the ground!"
The lights flicker wildly.
"You would have them lock me away like an animal," Kodos hisses as he licks the shell of her ear.
Jim shakes as the back of her throat burns hotly with vomit.
The work desk trembles as the lights continue to flicker.
"But we know the truth, don't we, princess?" Kodos growls as his finger slide up her neck, to her chin and then to her lips. He digs his nails into her bottom lip. "I wasn't the only monster, was I? Do they know just who it was who led those darling little angels to my den? Did you tell them who the pied piper truly was?"
Jim feels her eyes vibrate with liquid warmth and her perception of everything around her sharpens to the highest of definitions.
The lights continue to flicker and the work desk shakes wildly.
"You should be in that cell with me. You should rot too," Kodos says and laughs coldly as he flicks open a switchblade and holds it to her throat. "What say you, daughter? Will you come up?"
Jim feels something in her turn off like a switch and she feels so detached from the situation, from herself, from sanity.
"No?" Kodos sings and presses the side of his face to hers as he grins manically. "Very well then. I suppose I have no choice but to eat you. Now, scream for me, lovely. You do know how I adore them." He cuts her throat up in the cleanest swipe.
Jim gasps and jerks awake as she springs to her feet and lets out a bloodcurdling scream that claws away at the inside of her vocal chords.
She screams as the lights overhead bust open in a shower of glass and sparks one by one.
She screams as her eyes illuminate with an electric blue, glowing as brightly as fire does in the darkest of places.
She screams as the work desk begins to slowly lift off the ground, up and up and up, until it's practically touching the ceiling in the most eerie of levitations.
She screams as Spock, Nyota, and Bones run into the room and freeze with widened eyes.
The lights continue to flicker and bust open as all the furniture in the room begins to levitate as well.
The air fizzes and sparks with tangible electricity, making Nyota and Bones's hair frizz up and stand on end.
"Jim!" Nyota shouts. "Jim, calm down! It's okay!"
Jim stops screaming but she shakes her head frantically as she hyperventilates. She's not safe-not safe, not safe, not safe.
The ship begins to shake and Nyota and Bones struggle to find their balance.
"Damn it, Spock! You talk her down before she kills us all!" Bones snaps as he latches onto Nyota when the ship gives a particularly astonishing jerk.
Spock frowns and takes a step forward. "Jim. You must calm your mind," he says levelly.
"I can't, I can't," Jim sobs, sounding as frightened and lost as she feels. "Oh God, Oh God-help me."
The ship jerks again and the warning siren blares to life as a wash of red lights illuminate the room.
"You are very capable of finding control," Spock promises calmly.
"K-Kodos-he's here, he's here, he's gonna kill me-" Jim sobs again and trembles.
"It is not real, Jim," Spock intones. "It is figment of your imagination."
The ship jerks again.
"Oh God, so I'm crazy?" Jim sobs and looks at him for understanding. "He's right. I'm a monster. Just like him."
The couch pillows go flying.
The furniture starts to rotate as they levitate in the air.
A glass vase busts open and the shards slowly draw closer to Jim, coming to a complete stop right before Jim's face-sharp pieces pointing at her with threatening promise.
"I should be put down," Jim growls with wet cheeks. "I should be put down like a dog. I should, I should. I deserve it!"
The ship shudders again.
"No, Jim," Spock says firmly. "You deserve many things, but the very least of them is death. The significance you hold cannot be measured."
Jim's bottom lip trembles as hot tears continue to slide down her red cheeks but she just looks at those glass shards with indecisive suicidal misery.
"You are strong," Spock goes on to say. "You are important."
"Why?" Jim sobs. "Why does it matter whether I live or die?"
"Look at me, Jim," Spock commands calmly.
Jim does.
"I know no more encouraging fact than the truth of your significance. You are the greatest asset to the cosmos. Your heart is your greatest attribute, and it would be profoundly selfish of you to rob the universe of it. Each day you remain alive is a continued opportunity for you to do something extraordinary, of which, I have no doubt of your capabilities," Spock says, holding her gaze unwaveringly. "Now cease this thaumaturgy, t'hy'la. You are safe. Calm your mind."
Jim exhales sharply and the light of her eyes extinguishes to its normal cerulean blue.
The furniture drops down to the floor suddenly (as does the glass shards), all of them shattering on impact into a million pieces like flying shrapnel. The lights resume its regular glow and the ship is blissfully still and silent.
Jim stares at Nyota and Bones and Spock with tortured wet eyes and quietly says, "What's wrong with me?"
None of them have an answer to provide.
Chapter Seven
Author's Note: Revive me with your reviews.