A/N: Big hugs to all of you who review my story! Seeing your comments, no matter how long or short, make my day! Thanks so much… I love you guys! :D
Fridayweed: Yay! I have this stunning picture of Pomonus in my head and I'm just hoping I can describe it to you guys. lol. Spock Prime… perhaps… perhaps not… ;)
missa: Aww thanks! You too!
Bloody's soul: ohh, I love Vulcan kisses. They're so sweet.
re-harakhti: That would be bad. *cringe*
NayNymic: aww :D thanks, good to hear!
lolasail4: Yeah… just something about it, isn't there?
hpets: thanks! I feel bad for not being able to put a chapter up daily… stupid school. :(
KatKola: I accept it with humility. :)
mediwitch3: aww thank you! :D
tilly-tally-tease: I know, I always point at couples holding hands and tell my husband "On Vulcan, that would be considered PDA." lol I also love Kirk and his impulsiveness :)
Mars-Eclipse: Eff Sarek. We all know that logic doesn't matter. Even Spock knows! lol
underneaththesheets: hehe, I understand the typos… and I would totally choose him too :D
DeAtHsTeNsHi: ohh, I do too. They are my OTP of OTPs. Just the best.
sexy-jess: Of course! Yeah, usually when I write fanfic I'm not too careful about it… I'm actually a writer by trade. I also teach writing. Fanfic is just my side activity to get the juices flowing for more serious pieces. But I figured I'd actually let it all hang out on installment #3. I LOVE your long reviews and if I could give you a little trophy for them I would. I love that you like how I'm handling the characters. And I ALWAYS find myself thinking about the fingers! Typing, fixing things, etc., etc. It would be weird.
my renji-kun: Who doesn't love a good Spock tackle? I sure would. Yum.
MeEksiNs:
no problem!
Andrina Sparda: I have this issue with
making Spock suffer, don't I? I'm going to have to give Kirk
something to shoulder here. lol
DaughterofDeath: done!
yumi2482: thank you!
Hikaru: aww, well thanks! Happy K/S shippers = good thing. :)
DizzyBaby: Yup, silly Vulcans. lol
Phoenixfire979: I always loved how Spock has that defensive side.
sesshomaru's fluff is mine: Synok has a destiny to fulfill. I told you I had plot bunnies. :D
Aisling-Siobhan: thanks :D
xxxxx
"We have fallen victim to emotion. We will surely face the same end as our ancestors."
Synok, at the controls of the small ship they had stolen from the Federation, glared at his companion. "We did what was necessary."
"This is unnecessary." Surik sighed. "I should not have agreed to become your ally aboard the Katar. I should not have followed you to this shuttle. I—"
Suddenly, a robotic voice cut through the relative silence of their ship. "We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ship. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."
Vulcans would say that they do not panic. Synok, however, was quite close.
"Where is that coming from? Who are the Borg?"
"I do not know," said Synok. "I am unfamiliar with—"
The daunting message repeated itself. "We are the Borg. Lower your shields and surrender your ship. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."
Surik stared at the advancing cube. "What is that?"
xx
The next thing he knew, Synok found himself staring into a forboding face. She was beautiful, in a way; but her skin, wet with a dewlike substance that was neither water nor sweat, revolted him. The assortment of tubes extending from the back of her head gave the impression that the skintight vinyl bodysuit she wore existed as more than a shell.
She stared at him, intrigued, until Synok could handle the silence no longer. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"I am the Beginning," she answered. Her voice was hollow; it rang in his head. "The End. The One who is Many."
"I do not understand."
"I am the Borg."
He raised an eyebrow, trying to fit all of this together. "Is that your title? Is "Borg" a leadership title, such as "President?"
Amused, she shook her head. "Allow me to show you."
Two Borg drones appeared, escorting a terrified Surik. Synok watched, horrified, as two needlelike tubes shot out from one drone's finger.
"What is he doing?" Synok demanded.
"We are injecting him with nanoprobes. These will connect him to the hive mind. Soon, they will begin to replicate and produce the neural transceiver—the body armor—the weapons he will need."
Sure enough, the cybernetics had begun to grow; Synok gaped in terror. "Surik?"
He turned. His skin had begun to fade to a pale gray.
"Surik."
He received a cold stare in return. "My designation is Eight of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 94."
Synok gaped. "What have you done?"
"He is now part of the collective," said the Queen. "Part of the Borg. The first of Species 3259 to be assimilated."
"Assimilated—"
"We achieve perfection by combining the synthetic and the organic," explained the Queen. "We assimilate technology and species into the Collective to create a perfect whole, devoid of individuality. And now it is time for you to join us."
As the Borg drone who had assimilated Surik pierced his own flesh, Synok held his breath. He had no idea what this race of cybernetic drones was capable of. If he couldn't hold onto his mind, his individuality would vanish—and all hope for the Vulcan race would vanish right along with it.
xx
As Synok regained consciousness, he became aware of several cybernetic implants growing like metal skin over his body. Spreading. Multiplying. Becoming part of him. His Vulcan skin, he was sure, had turned gray like Surik's. And he had a splitting headache from rejecting complete assimilation. The strength and power of his Vulcan mind had saved him.
Thousands of voices buzzed in his mind, too many to sort out, too many to discern one from the rest; even the Queen. And yet, before he passed out again, he heard his worst nightmare come to fruition.
The Borg were headed to Pomonus.
xxxxx
Unaware of the terror headed their way, Spock and Kirk put the world from their mind as they lay under the cover of the Pomonian forest. The soft sand cradled Jim like a hammock as Spock came over him. "This is illogical," Spock whispered, as he drew his finger along Kirk's collarbone. "We have our own bed available. Someone could walk into the forest and spot us."
"That's what makes it exciting," Kirk replied.
Spock bent down to press his lips against Kirk's. "I did not suggest that we should stop."
Their lips met again, and Kirk plunged a hand into Spock's glossy hair, holding him there. As he inhaled the clean bamboo scent that was uniquely Spock, he let his eyes drift closed, yearning to concentrate only on the delicious fusion of their lips. When he finally opened them, he saw Spock, his Spock, night-black hair crowned by the fuchsias above, by the hundreds of little flames, all arrayed by delicate tendrils of purple and pink.
"Your eyes," Kirk whispered, as Spock slipped inside of him, "are frustrating."
Spock raised an amused eyebrow. "Enlighten me."
"Mmm…"
"My eyes?"
"Not important." Kirk pulled him close.
"Vulcans are curious beings," Spock protested. "It will distract me if you fail to complete your sentence." A hint of a smile played on his lips.
He gazed up into Spock's indescribable eyes—almonds, maybe. Raindrops, lying on their bellies. A rich mahogany that exuded a human, emotive quality that was raw, yet refined. A perfection unattained in any other two eyes in the universe. "I just find it ironic," he finally said, "that a Vulcan would have a pair of eyes like yours."
"They betray my every emotion," Spock admitted, moving slowly within him. Kirk let out a soft groan, and Spock brought his torso down, playfully allowing their flesh to touch, just barely, just enough to make Kirk bite down on his lower lip in frustration.
"I didn't know Vulcans could tease."
"You have said it before—I am full of surprises." His lips twitched slightly.
Kirk grinned and pulled him down for a kiss, tangling their fingers together at the same moment, knowing it would put Spock's acute senses into overdrive.
His efforts paid off; Spock held him so tightly with his knees that, for a second, Kirk thought there might just be a real Vulcan death grip. Spock moved—slowly at first, savoring the unique and exhilarating experience of being as close to Kirk as he could be—then faster, sensing both of their aching needs for release.
Desperately, Spock wished he could be in two places at once. It was not fair, he reasoned, to be selfish, to leave Jim bereft of a sensation like the blissful warmth he was enveloped in. But his hands braced him against the ground; his mouth was too far away.
"If it's that important to you," whispered Kirk, curling his own fingers around his length, and Spock inhaled sharply. How did he know? Is it possible that a mind meld can be achieved through other physical contact? Perhaps because Jim and I are connected emotionally? Perhaps because we have previously melded at length… or, perhaps, my expression suggested my wishes…
Kirk had the answer for the un-voiced question. He didn't need a mind meld to see into Spock's core. It was those eyes, two deep pools of jasper revealing his raw and unselfish desires.
And so he stroked himself, watching Spock's face intently—clearly this had to be a taboo in Vulcan society, as there was no logical reason for self-gratification. But they both knew that this was beyond logic. This was greater than logic.
If there was one thing Kirk had, it was incredible self-awareness. He was in control of himself. He could time it. As he watched Spock's face, he found that he could already identify all the signs of his first officer's impending release: jaw set and dropped slightly, the tingle-inducing moans issuing from deep in his throat, and the eyes which never looked away from him for even a moment when Spock was on the verge of ecstasy. He'd memorized Spock's face without even realizing it.
"Jim…" It was a whisper, and the name tasted good on his tongue, but Spock hypothesized that it would be even better if he could scream it, letting his guttural cry echo off the smooth bark of the trees.
And all of a sudden Spock burst from his chrysalis again, his emotion visible in more than his eyes. Kirk felt it in the way his fingers dug into the dirt, the urgency with which he moved, the green flush casting a glow over his pale face.
"Jim… Jim…"
Kirk felt all his control slip away on that syllable. "Spock… I'm—"
Spock gave no warning, just let go in one glorious rush, and Kirk followed suit.
Almost instantly, they fell asleep.
xx
Sarek walked down the main path to a somewhat familiar house. It was remarkable, simply because of the pot of red Earth petunias blazing up in the dusk beneath the light of a soft white lamp. With a heavy sigh, Sarek knocked on the door.
An older man, his face a wizened ghost of Sarek's younger son, opened the door. "Hello, Father."
"Spock. I require a conversation."
Spock Prime invited him inside and poured two cups of rose-hip tea, made from the sweet blue Pomonian blooms. They sipped in silence for a moment before Spock finally spoke.
"I sense a mild agitation, Father."
"I am a Vulcan," came the automatic reply. "You sense nothing. I harbor no emotion."
"May I inquire as to what you came to speak with me about?"
Sarek stared into his tea. "You."
He raised an eyebrow.
"The younger version of yourself." Sarek furrowed his brow. "Spock, we agreed to not speak about your past…"
"What is it that you have come to ask?"
"My son," said Sarek, "has returned with his chosen mate."
Spock leaned forward.
"It appears that he has chosen the captain of the starship on which he serves."
A bright smile, decidedly un-Vulcan, crossed the old man's face. "I am so glad that one of us got it right," he whispered.
Sarek raised an eyebrow.
"In my time," Spock explained, "Jim and I were the best of friends. It was a logical world. I married T'Pring. Jim spent his life being promiscuous with women. I tend to believe that we both ignored what was below the surface. It is still my greatest regret."
Sarek stared at him. "There is no logic in what you are saying."
"You married a human schoolteacher," Spock countered. "There is no logic in that."
"I was still able to reproduce with her."
"You loved her," pressed Spock. "That is what was important. Of all people, you should understand your son."
"That is what he said to me," Sarek mused.
Spock inclined his head.
Sarek pondered this for a moment. "Can you explain it?" he asked quietly.
"No. However, as time went by, I realized that I did not need to. It was good enough for me to love Jim without having a logical reason, whether my feelings were requited or not."
Abruptly, Sarek stood, scraping his chair against the floor. He raised his hand into the Vulcan salute, merely as a courtesy, then fled.
xx
(A/N: I'm in fluff mode, can you tell? And drama mode. lol.
About the Vulcan death grip; it's fictitious. Spock made it up and "used" it on Kirk to fool the Romulans in TOS. My explanation for Kirk knowing about it: Spock Prime recalled the memory to him.
And Zachary Quinto's eyes really are indescribable, has anyone ever noticed that? What an honest-to-God perfect creation they are.)
