A/N: For those of you who reviewed, thank you sooo much!I really appreciate your honest input(: I'm really sorry this is late but I had writers block for a while then I went to see star trek again in 3D, and all of today I wasn't home:/ Sooo, once again I apologize for the delay and I will try and post again sometime this week(:
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek
Chapter 1
"Kirk, I have been and always shall be your friend."
Spock filled these words with as much sincerity as he could gather. Though showing emotion was a feat for him, at the moment all which he had been holding back throughout the years came flooding forward with his friends pending death.
There wasn't a response from his dear companion, only a strained cry that echoed throughout the room. With a sharp intake of breath, Kirk went to make his last attempt at a farewell. But just as his hand was raised to meet Spock's, he released a strangled yelp and stared down at the dagger that had taken inhabitance in his abdomen.
His blue eyes went wide and he struggled to bring forth words to express what he was feeling.
"Spock—"
And just as the blade was removed he fell into an eternal slumber never to wake again empty eyes staring perpetually into the eyes of his assailant. There, standing before his still body was Khan, panting ferociously as a satisfied grin spilt his features.
Spock hastily attempted to open the radiation chamber but to no avail. Not giving into defeat, he fooled with the LCD screen unlocking safety blocks and disengaging the clutch to the door separating him from his target. Warning sirens filled the compartment as it flooded with radiation, and Spock trudged to reach Khan who gazed smugly upon the still body of Captain Kirk.
Just when he was steps away from meeting his target, he came to a startling halt, unable to move any further.
"Spock, why do you insist on pursuing revenge? Hardly logical if you ask me."
Khan circled the area, as if he were taunting Spock with fresh meat, making a hungry soul savage.
"You killed him."
"I?" He questioned taken aback by the mere thought. "It wasn't I who killed him, it was you."
The expression registered on his face was one of pure shock and disbelief.
"How so?"
"You hold the dagger."
Spock looked down to his palms, which held the blade dressed in a crimson that stained his clothes. He attempted to abandon the weapon but found it nearly impossible to release.
"Look around you Spock, It was you who killed all of these innocent souls."
Sure enough, dispersed about the room were the scattered bodies of his victims lost to the radiation poisoning that littered the air. They had all died at his lack of command. Had he evacuated the area, perhaps they could have lived. But instead they lie still at his feet, never even given the chance to live.
"They were merely obeying orders and you killed them with your own selfish ways." Khan continued, "Perhaps if you hadn't allowed your emotions to intercede they would all still be alive. Such a shame. Your humanness has always been at your disadvantage hasn't it?"
Spock stared blankly into the air as Khan goaded him, dwelling solely on the guilt that had overcome. It was true. They were all dead, and it was his fault.
A pain, an overwhelming wave of emotions crashed over his form as he knelt before his adversary, holding his bleeding ears in agony. Khan looked down on his huddled form and accepted his cries with welcome arms, bearing a smug grin. Spock continued to cry out as his stomach churned and green tears fell, burning his dark pupils and tinting them anew.
"Make it stop! Please make it stop!" He screamed in agony as his hands dripped blood and his innards tied in knots.
"You killed them Spock! All of them! Look at each face and each pair of eyes you closed! Blue, green, Brown all of them blank! You selfish man."
Spock shook his head in refusal, not daring to relent to the supposed truth
"Please stop, I can't take anymore!"
"I can. And I will." He could vaguely hear himself scream in a far off distance as
with a single swipe Khan plunged the dagger in his core, twisting as it penetrated his skin and red mixed with green.
That was the last thing he saw before falling.
Spock awoke with a start in his assigned observation room, frantically gasping for air as he struggled to collect himself from his recent endeavors within the dream realm.
Must have been the narcotics.
For a moment he considered paying a brief visit to the control room to ensure his friends safety, but thought better of it when he realized just how accurate the dream was. Jim Kirk was dead, that was no dream.
But there would be no more dreaming now. He couldn't allow it. For his mind is far more powerful than the dream.
Instead Spock resigned himself to pacing about the room, mumbling incoherent vulgarities as he reviewed his memories. Nothing could ever be the same; he now acquired claim of the title of captain taking command of many. They trust him with their lives. He could only hope he would not plunge a dagger through their naïve reliance.
Unable to bear the deafening silence any longer, he trudged from his chambers and towards the medical establishment down the hall.
'I owe him this much' He wallowed as each step became heavier the nearer he approached the door.
It stood tall before Spock, daring him to open it. Beyond the wall was reality, and for now he was quite content living in a happy ending fantasy. But out of sheer respect he found himself opening the vault and entering the chamber.
Within seconds he was consumed in the light of white walls dotted in medical tools and a bitter cold that bit at his toes. The scent of formaldehyde and rotting flesh corrupted his senses, a testament to the fact that the icy temperature did little to slow Jim's decomposition.
The room was not a large keeping and remained modest with nothing but the occasional shelf on the wall and white medical table placed in the center. Atop it was a single black bag, darkening the whole atmosphere with one glimpse. The tags read what he could expect, but having been printed so formally brought life to what had always been right before his eyes.
Kirk, James T.
Spock sharply closed his eyes as yet another flow of tears threatened to fall. But he would not allow himself to be consumed in guilt and sorrow. Unable to control the urge, he brought his fingers towards the zipper slowly but surely revealing to him Jim's still body.
His form was astonishing. No longer did he bear that signature smirk nor did his blue eyes threaten to stare sharply into your soul resurfacing years of past onus.
His face was torn and scarred, but peaceful all the same as he lay there exposed to the chill. He no longer wore his mustard shirt signifying his honorable position of authority over those on this ship. His bare chest proved how little power he held when no longer breathing. It is hardly reverential in the least, but neither is disrupting his silence in the dead of night.
Spock was tempted to lace his hand atop Jim's pale, solemn features to see if there were any salvageable emotions left within his form; but thought better of it in order to maintain respect for this poor soul.
But Jim was spared in feeling the agony of life, though perhaps life after death for him is just as painful. His escape from this world would have been a blessing, had he been deserving of death. There weren't very many years to his count, this much Spock knew. And it was hardly enough.
"Disheartening isn't it" came a voice from the doorway "To see him like this."
"Show yourself." Spock commanded, swiftly working the zipper back up to preserve Jim's peace. McCoy stepped from his perch and into the light, though his eyes were not trained on the man next to the table but rather on the dark bag that held the form of a man.
"He never was one to give into defeat. You knew that better than anyone."
He circled the table observing the bag as if pondering to whether or not to do what Spock had already dared.
"Since you seem to always have all the answers I ask you, why did he give up?" The doctor's voice cracked as he continued to refuse eye contact. It remained a daunting vagueness as to why their good friend gave up his life in one brash move.
Spock accepted this refusal and stood in silence regarding the situation carefully. It was an unfamiliar and terrifying ground not having the answers, his uncertainty being the source of his trepidations.
As the two stood in silence at the bedside of their Captain, they gazed down at the bag he had been stored in with sorrow.
"He's still out there you know." Bones said immediately breaking the reverie they had surrendered to. "Khan."
"I am aware."
"Are you? Because as acting Captain and potentially our future captain, you sure aren't doing much to avenge your friends death."
"There is not much I can logically play out in pursuing him at the moment."
Spock responded taking his leave from the chamber and heading towards the control room.
"My gosh man it's not logic! It's spontaneous! You can't strike the flame and leave a wildfire to burn down a populated city!" Bones said following him out of the medical center
"I am perfectly aware of your worries and am addressing them as need be. Though at the moment, I am more concerned with formulating a conceivable plan in order to better approach the situation. We cannot afford any casualties."
"Yeah, while you form your 'conceivable plan' I'll be busying myself in the medical department with preparations for the funeral." He turned to leave but stopped again at the door, his back facing Spock.
"Your Captain and friend just died, Spock. Is it that difficult to show some sympathy?" There was a pause as Spock collected himself once again, forcing down the emotion that so often seemed to arise in the most inopportune moments.
"My tangible reflection on my emotions, or lack there of, is simply a way to prevent myself from being emotionally compromised. I have already mourned his loss, and therefore find it illogical to dwell on it any further, especially considering it causes me grief." Bones buried his face in palms exasperatedly mumbling profanities as he exited the control room.
"It's like trying to tell a robot to grow emotion."
Spock ignored this and made his way to the captain's chair, carefully examining it before sitting. Though it was he who had last occupied the seat, it felt different to know that Captain Kirk would no longer inhabit the spot.
He quickly pushed down the thought and began the regulation status reports.
"Mr. Scott, how are our power sources?"
"Up an' running sir, but there is an exponential amount of damage on the bridge, as well as most everywhere else." Scotty replied anxiously through the intercom.
"Is the transporter functional?" Spock responded
"Aye sir, but I wouldn't put 'er to use quite yet. There is still a lack of sources within our systems, a use that requires such a large amount of energy could potentially send us hurdling from the sky again."
"Understood. What is the approximate amount of time before the systems are stable?"
"About two and a half hours, sir."
Spock nodded, though Scotty could not see this.
"Thank you, Mr. Scott."
Spock regarded the situation incredulously, taking into consideration all possible disadvantages they would be put at if they used the energy. Dr. McCoy was correct; this is no place for logic. Though his approach must be tactical, in order to succeed where it is planned it must also be impulsive.
The question still remained, is it possible to potentially transport a person to the surface with a minimal amount of energy? Perhaps it is possible, but logical? In the ship's current condition, having used the trifling power it has attained could possibly put the crew's life at stake.
" , how far are we from the surface of earth?"
"A rounded 560 kilometers."
"Do we have an awareness on how much energy we must attain before stability?"
"Not on deck, Captain." Spock nodded
"Lieutenant Chekov, are you familiar with the ships standard energy levels?"
"Yes sir, I have studied them in previous journeys."
"Good. Access Mr. Scott's field and retrieve the current readings of power."
"Yes, Captain." Chekov fiddled with the screen until he reached the main power core of the enterprise, which then led him to the records.
"She is at vourty-eight percent power, Captain."
"What percentage is required for stability?"
"Approximately sixty percent."
Spock exhaled a breath before attempting to contact Scotty again for further information.
"Mr. Scott, exactly how much of our ships energy does it consume in order to transport a single being to the surface of earth?"
"Ehhh, If I 'ad to guess at 1 percent per 110 kilometers—"
"5.09 percent, correct?"
"Um, sure…"
"That would mean we would be reduced to 42.91% of our energy. How quickly could we recover to stability?"
"About…" There was a pause before responding "174 minutes."
"Thank you, Mr. Scott."
Spock sat back in his seat gathering his thoughts in as much order as possible. The entire operation was a gamble. There was no guaranteeing the crews safety. The variables of the equation were so vast and uncertain in the long run it would completely depend on how fast Khan was traveling. They hadn't even the slightest idea where he was, much less where he was going to be and how quickly he would get there.
To make such a precise conclusion regarding the percentage of survival would be impossible. That in itself was enough to throw Spock off-guard.
He couldn't help but consider what Captain Kirk would have done in a situation such as this. He had proved time and time again that to improvise could be superior. Such thinking is what once saved Spock's life. And so in this decision, he must do what he felt would potentially carryout.
"Lieutenant Sulu, I am assigning you as my replacement during my absence. Can you handle such a position admirably as you did so in the previous events?"
"Yes, Captain."
"In the event that I do not return, you have permission to proceed with any necessary maneuvers that may theoretically spare the crew in the attempt to return to starfleet headquarters."
"I am aware, Captain."
Spock nodded and calmly exited the control room, Uhura in tow.
"Spock, wait!" He stopped and turned now facing her in the elevator.
"Lieutenant Uhura."
"What are you doing? Where are you going?"
"I must transport down to the surface in order to pursue the enemy which threatens our safety."
"Why you, Spock?" She asked concerned, taking his hand in hers and looking up with teary eyes.
"Who else but me?"
"Any other person here would qualify. Think about it Spock, how can I be sure you will return? Did you ever consider you may not?"
Spock nodded "I have taken all factors into consideration."
"And? What was the solution?"
"It is uncertain. There is no solution." Uhura observed him with silence silently cursing his current disregard for assurance.
"What in the world convinced you then?"
"It was the ambiguity which convinced me." She shook her head closing her eyes with blatant irritation and concern.
"Spock, just because Jim is dead, does not mean you have to become him. He wouldn't have wanted it."
Spock nodded "I am aware. But this must be done."
And with that he turned from the elevator and towards the transporter platform, notifying the operators of his intentions and providing coordinates.
"Spock!"
" , I was under the impression you were in medical."
"I was." He said breathlessly. "You know what you're doing?"
"The statistical likelihood that our plan would succeed his less than desirable, but that knowledge does not prevent me from pursuing it.
Bones furrowed his brow before patting him quickly on the back.
"Stay safe, Captain."
Spock gave a curt nod and approached the platform, phaser in hand.
"We are clear for transportation, are you ready Captain?"
"Affirmative."
"Transporting in five, four, three, two—"
The man's voice was cut off as Spock reappeared in an entirely different atmosphere than what he was used to. He observed his surroundings quickly, attempting to spot any signs of Khan in the chaotic atmosphere. But there were none.
The people were stampeding throughout the street while simultaneously dodging the ruins of the flaming Vengeance warship. There had yet to be any established order as even the nearest officials were either dead or miles away. Khan had successfully inactivated a prime source when he blew the "archive" to pieces.
Ignoring his disadvantage he continued to sprint through the streets, constantly referring to the tracking device he had been equipped with prior to the transportation.
When Khan, having surrendered, was brought to the Enterprise they had purposely outfitted him with a shirt bearing the Starfleet insignia within it that bore tracking device in case, God forbid, he would succeed in an escape. Not only did he succeed, but he also used members of Starfleet as tools to assist him in said escape. Fortunately, if Khan had yet to shed the shirt, Spock could still salvage some hope.
But it was a matter of whether or not that would be enough that corrupted his thoughts.
A/N: Hope you liked it! I have a lot in store for this story, these are just small parts compared to the rest of the massive and complex plot I have planned... You have been warned. Tell me what you think, opinions of any kind are welcome(: