All the Gold in California
Summary: Spock and Chapel are kidnapped by a mad Klingon who plans to change Earth's past and the Empire's future. Stranded in 1840's California Territory, they struggle to survive and keep Spock's alien identity a secret. Can Kirk and McCoy rescue them and save the timeline before the Klingons wreak havoc with history?
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, but the characters like to romp and frolic in my mind, and tell me wonderful stories. SPOCK: Vulcans donotromp and frolic!
A/N: I had to do some research on this one. Many thanks to my favorite website, Wikipedia. Oops, make that my second favorite, after FanFiction of course!
Chapter 1
Christine landed on her backside with an "oomph" and coughed as a cloud of dust rose around her. She cursed the inept Klingon who had let her materialize a foot above the ground. Waving the dust away from her face, she gazed at the landscape before her. Dirt, rocks, and scrub brush as far as she could see. And in the distance, craggy ridges and snowcapped mountains. Great, she thought, where in this great galaxy are we? We! She looked around desperately for her companion of the last few days and found Spock lying face down in the dirt behind her, apparently still unconscious. She gasped when she realized he was dressed in heavy canvas pants, a flannel shirt, a woolen jacket, and tall leather boots. A dark brown, wide-brimmed hat was lying on the ground beside him. Then she noticed her own clothes; an ankle-length, green and white gingham dress with white cuffs and a lacey bib that came up to her neck. She flicked up the hem of the skirt, and the heavy petticoats underneath, and found what she knew were affectionately called "granny boots" on her feet. "Oh, my…!" she started, and profaned whatever Klingon had dressed her in these ridiculous clothes while she was out cold.
A groan from behind alerted her to her companion regaining consciousness. She crawled over to Spock and rolled him onto his back, just as his eyes began to flicker open. When he could focus his vision, he said, "Who are you?" and after hastily looking around, added, "Where am I?"
"Spock, it's me, Christine… Dr. Chapel," she answered.
"What did you just call me?" he asked, confusion evident on his still-scarred face.
"What? Don't you… Oh, no, don't tell me…What's the last thing you remember, Spock?"
The Vulcan blinked several times as he turned his thoughts inward, then said, "I remember nothing."
Four Days Earlier
Commander Spock, Dr. Chapel, two anthropologists and two security guards had beamed down to the surface of Xeron Beta III to observe a native village in the valley below them. The Enterprise was in orbit, her Captain deep in discussion with Star Fleet Command about mining rights on this unclaimed planet. There were a few pockets of indigenous people on only one small continent, and a cornucopia of minerals on the other side of the planet.
The anthropologists were focused on the village below with their high-powered recording binoculars as the security guards kept watch over them. Dr. Chapel wandered through the dense foliage, her scanner sweeping, always on the look-out for medicinal plants. Spock watched her surreptitiously while taking readings of their surroundings on his tricorder. He was content to let her wander, as long as she stayed within visual range.
A few moments later, he heard her calling his name quietly and looked up to see her beckoning for him to come to her. She was crouched in front of a thicket of bushes, about fifty meters away, peering between the leafy branches. As he started toward her, he saw her body stiffen, then topple over. "Doctor Chapel," he called out and broke into a run. Before he reached her, he felt a sting on the back of his neck. A second later he sensed the loss of control of his legs and felt himself falling forward. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Christine woke up to find herself lying on a small cot. A matching cot just a few feet to her left looked as though someone has recently laid on it as well. She sat up carefully and found the rest of the small room to be devoid of any furnishings or another person. In the wall opposite her, she could see another room through an open doorway. She approached the doorway and sensed the tingle of a force field before she could even put her hand out to test it. So, she was a prisoner. It was then that she felt the tale-tell vibrations of a ship in motion. She moved beside the door to see what, if anything, was in the other room. There was small table and two chairs to one side, and in one of the chairs sat a stereotypical Klingon warrior, reading from a data pad. Klingons! Great! she thought. She made her way back to the cot and sat down just as footsteps approached the outer room.
She heard the Klingons speaking in their guttural language and saw a disruptor aimed at her as the force field was turned off and Commander Spock was thrust into the cell. He landed in a heap on the floor and reflexively curled himself up into a fetal position. She ran to him and knelt down to examine him. There were multiple bruises and lacerations on his face, along with dried green blood. His uniform was spattered with it as well. "See to him, Healer," one of the Klingons declared in Standard English, and tossed something next to her. Christine looked down to see her Star Fleet Med-kit skid to a stop beside her.
"I'll need water and a cloth," she said without looking up. One of the guards spoke to another, who rushed out and returned a moment later with a pitcher of water, a bowl, and a clean towel. He entered the cell and set them down beside her without a word. Chapel wondered briefly why they were actually helping her, before returning to her patient. She wiped the blood from his face and ran over the lacerations with a regenerator. The bruises faded slightly and the cuts began sealing themselves. She pressed a hypo of antibiotic into his neck. It was all she could do with her small kit. He wouldn't be pretty for a few days, but at least he would be free from infection.
Spock moaned softly as she finished, and his eyes fluttered open. She helped him get to his feet and led him to the cot that had obviously been his. "Spock, what did they do to you?" she asked quietly, helping him to lie down.
"Mind-sifter," was his only reply before he passed out once again.
An hour or so later, Mr. Spock sat cross-legged on his cot, trying to find his center again - and failing miserably - while Chapel paced nervously, biting her tongue to keep from questioning her commanding officer. A noise at the door brought both of them to alertness. The force field was turned off and a different sort of Klingon strode boldly into the room, chuckling to himself. He was smaller than the guards, but tall and thin, like Spock. He wore a fine suit of wool-like material with no armor and no metal studs. He carried no visible weapons, but sported a large ruby ring on one finger. His long black hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and his beard was elegantly trimmed. But his bifurcated brow gave him away as at least part Klingon. Spock was now standing beside Christine as they watched the newcomer strut around them.
"Well, Doctor, I see you've patched up our Vulcan's face quite well," he said in perfect Standard English. His voice carried no trace of accent. "Of course, we'll only mess it up again," he continued, then finished with a grimace, "unless he tells me what I want to know!"
Spock took a step forward and asserted, "If it's me you want, then let Doctor Chapel go."
"Oh, no, Commander, I need her. If for nothing else than to keep you alive." He looked appraising at Chapel before continuing. "And I think she'll come in handy as what your people would call a 'bargaining chip.' As in, "If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll kill her while you watch!"" he finished menacingly.
"Don't tell him anything, Spock!" Chapel warned.
Spock stepped in front of her protectively, and asked, "What is it you wish to know?"
The man wagged a finger in front the Vulcan's nose, making a clucking noise with his tongue against his teeth. "No, no, no, Commander. It's much more entertaining to get it out of you the other way." With that he turned to leave the cell.
"What have you done with the other members of our landing party?" Spock demanded.
The man turned and gave them a wicked grin. "What have I done with them? It was not I who captured you, Commander Spock. It was the natives of the planet. Though I did pay them dearly for their assistance. And part of the payment was that they could keep the others for their own… amusement." He laughed heartily as he exited the cell. "Feed them!" he ordered one of the guards. "And don't forget, Vulcans are vegetarians!"