A/N: Thank you scout2014, studpuppy, MoonArrow, Doc Emmett L. Brown53, Daemonia Azrael Di Oz, Anavaray and Adellaeda for following and favouriting this story! Also, many thanks to TFT for another lovely review that made my day! And to trekkie170 too, hope you like this super late update! And to tanseynz, who probably made me cry with the number of reviews written on this. Oswald44, your review made me feel I could and should start writing this again. Owyheewinds, yes, I feel the same way about my own writing. I might be revamping my previous chapters before I continue on. Thank you for your review!
I'm so sorry this took so long to be updated, are you guys still there? Writer's block coupled with work have made me a terrible terrible person. Stick around, please!
-SOAH-
The first problem he encounters is darkness. Not in terms of sight, because sight doesn't exist in one's mind—but a smothering of psionic abilities beyond that required to follow the bond. It's an effect, Spock supposes, of allowing a bond to atrophy and then attempting to reform it psionically again. He won't know for certain, because no Vulcan in history ever did such an illogical thing. He preempted the possibility, however, and put the necessary precautions in place—hence his isolation. Barring a full blown psionic attack, he speculates that he will not be alerted to anything of the world outside his mind once he begins strengthening their bond.
Vulcans do not condone creating a bond without prior consent of the other party. Spock considers this, but his eidetic memory pulls up a conversation from not too long ago. "I don't hate it. The idea of this bond, I mean. I don't." Jim's voice fills his mind with a temporary glow, accompanied by a full colour, high resolution image of the man's face, wearing the expression of a man who has been through too much to rationalise the amount of hope he still carries. It doesn't really count, not if Spock didn't ask, but Spock understands that the probability of Jim expressing emotional displeasure towards what he is about to do is low enough to be considered mathematically negligible.
Such matters and considerations require 3 seconds to complete. Spock proceeds to continue following the bond in search of Jim's mind. Their bond is a feeling more than anything tangible. It has been mellowed with time and distance, but is growing stronger as he follows it now. A fleeting thought washes over him, like the gentle passing of a wave. Because feelings is no basis for an actual thing. It is an entirely uncharacteristic statement for Spock to make, and for a moment Spock is lost in the tides, on the line between his thoughts, and Jim's.
Will you stay? And the ache, the distinct sensation of drowning, bowls Spock over before he can process the thought as not his own. It is most disquieting, admittedly, to understand Jim's pain. Spock understands that by all logic, it is not his fault that their interactions have been chained by bitterness and a great sense of loss, that by no means is Jim actually analysing cause and effect and holding Spock responsible for the acrimony of more than a year. But there's a large part of him that can't help but consider the fact that had he not left, had he not been the first to exit a stage while the curtains were still open, Jim would not have had to learn about the fine line between uncertainty and anguish.
He trips, stumbles over the many thoughts that rush at him. With no prior experience in this process, Spock had no particular preliminary tests to base any expectations off. Still, total and utter silence once he reaches the other end of the bond is certainly not what he had in mind, and it triggers a blur of frantic thoughts that manage to escape his barriers. The empty mental space, the lack of a sunshine mind, a missing familiar acceptance, and one would think Spock would know distance and know how to live without Jim given past history. Yet when faced with a loss that is certain, when the possibility of future reunion of sorts is eliminated, Spock finds himself learning another layer of meaning to the word without.
The chaos is distracting and it takes him much too long, for a descendent of Sarek, to realise the pain he feels is entirely his own—it does not originate from the bond. The bond is not broken. The bond is not broken. The flood of relief that comes with that realisation is just as unexpected as the initial emotional crash. There will be substantial need for meditation after.
The question remains as to the reason for the absence at Jim's end of the bond. Unconsciousness is a likely cause, but without good evidence, it is only an hypothesis.
A brief flickering spreads through. It would seem the flood of psionic activity sufficiently disturbed Jim to awake him. There is something oddly unique, Spock thinks, about experiencing the mind of the Captain of the USS Enterprise starting up. The Admiral goes from barely conscious to immediate alertness, and the awareness hits Jim with an impact that raises questions about the consequences of excessive command training on adrenaline regulation and mental health.
Vulcan. Ship. 6 minutes. Trellium. Evacuate. A pause, some disbelief, and then: Spock? What are you doing here? Jim's sight returns to him in the next moment, and upon assessment of his surroundings, the Captain makes some amendments to his question. Alright, so you're not actually here. Some explanation, Mr Spock?
Jim catches onto Spock's consideration of problem, situational factors and mitigation, and how extenuating circumstances prompted the suitable response of communication via the only open channel available. At this point Jim laughs, releasing a burst of tickled emotions that Spock experiences with mild discomfort and a larger yearning to bask in one human's joy.
Really, Spock. 'Open channel'? You need better euphemisms for 'mating bond', because that one sounds just that bit too—
Spock interjects at this point, because whatever might have followed that has a high probability of being detrimental to the required state of mind for this mission.
Jim.
Yes, Mr Spock?
The Captain patiently awaits a response despite Spock's obvious lack of one, and Jim's amusement is almost tangible by this point. It's almost disconcerting, how quickly they've gone back to bantering (an activity Spock would never admit to subscribing to), but Jim can't seem to find it in him to fight this. He can feel Spock's discomfort, but this discomfort is worlds apart from the awkward cadence of their interaction back on the Enterprise, and it hits Jim only now just how much he has missed this.
Spock attempts to prevaricate, realises the better option is to ignore the question entirely, and proceeds to remind Jim that the critical situation on hand "urgently calls for their attention, more than the considerations of inappropriate recreational activities that Jim seems to appreciate with great immaturity". The second euphemism earns Spock another flood of amusement from the Captain, but the message seems to have gotten through.
Alright, let's get to work. The first question, of course, is where we—I am. There is a pause as Jim surveys the situation. Spock waits patiently. The bond is limited to allowing him to receive impressions of Jim's mental state. His functioning body remains on the Enterprise, and with it his bodily systems for olfactory, visual, tactile, oral and auditory senses.
We're in a brig of some kind, Spock. Security system seems to operate under activation via brain scans. Jim tries to recall how he got in a ship cell, and is promptly jolted by a pain similar to that of touching a fresh wound, seemingly a fragment of a previous psionic attack. Whoever attacked Jim's mind could do it again, and Spock decides to increase their probability of survival by subtly shielding Jim's mind without announcement. The ease with which he has segued from rejecting the bond to protect Jim, to using the bond to protect Jim, is irony that is not lost on Spock. Jim, are you functional?
Well, I'm certainly not dsyfunctional, Mr Spock. I wonder…does this operate through analysis of nerve signals, or brain structure, or chemistry makeup…Let's see…
Spock hesitates between warning his Captain be more cautious in his approach, and accepting that Jim has been operating this same way for the entirety of his duties in Starfleet with a 98% mission success rate. The decision is made for him when the Captain's mind lights up with a triumphant glow. It does seem that the probabilities of success are often skewed towards a more favourable result whenever Jim is factored in. It is not logical, yet it has always been the case, and Spock realises belatedly that he should have calculated probabilities with an additional figure for Jim's track record.
Looks like we're on our way out. I'm going to locate that systems room I was in previously, I spotted auxiliary control in there before…being brought down. It's not really inaccurate, Jim thinks, though the way he phrased that sounds like he actually had a chance to put up a fight. There's still a certain amount of ego a young Admiral has to hold on to.
Captain, at the vessel's current speed and trajectory, it is not physically possible for you to terminate its eventual progression to impact. Spock chooses his words carefully, because he is nothing but an efficient learner, and he has factored in Jim's involvement in his probability calculations this time round. It may not seem physically possible to Spock, but to Jim it may prove to be a whole other matter.
There aren't any blueprints on the corridor walls, and Jim begins to realise with every corner he turns that the labyrinth he's currently navigating looks exactly the same whichever way he goes. They have only minutes left, and Spock can undoubtedly give a more accurate estimate of that figure. Jim pushes himself to travel faster, as he passes by irrelevant rooms for sewage and turbines. The gravity settings on this ship are beginning to take their toll, however, as his breath comes out in heavy pants and a trail of heat begins to travel his lungs. The slap of rubber soles against metal rings through the enclosed corridors and disturbingly, no one has arrived as yet to interrupt them. Either this ship is running on a skeleton crew, or it is so highly automated that manpower can be minimised to such an extent. Or, Jim supposes, someone could very well be on their way and he's simply moving too fast to be caught.
Spock arches an eyebrow. Spock isn't physically around to be observed, but an emotion Jim intuitively connects with the disdain of a Vulcan trickles into his mind. This consideration prompts a protest of sorts from the eyebrow arching man himself, who proceeds to assert that there is no such emotion associated with the contraction of facial muscles right below the temple.
Amusement is distracting, especially when Jim has just found a metallic panel in the wall that looks rather promising. An attempt at prying it open proves futile, but Spock reminds him that he hasn't tried pressing the button beside it. The front panel promptly slides out with an ease that has Jim pressing his lips together in irritation.
It's a remote access to the mainframe computer systems, which means sifting through a ship's worth of code to get to what they want. Even an A7 Computer Expert wouldn't fancy a task like this. Jim rapidly scrolls through the display, breathing still irregular from the run before.
What is our plan, Captain? There is no plausible method to stop this ship. We are currently approaching impact in two minutes and fifteen seconds. Jim blinks away the sweat falling from his disorganised hair into his eyes. There's code for navigation systems embedded within a matrix of complicated lines that blink rapidly past the upper boundaries for the screen. He scrolls back down and checks once more. It's definitely navigational.
Spock. I have a plan, but I will need precise calculations. What will it take from the thrusters to pull us into a high orbit? Spock understands the why of the question, but the how eludes him entirely.
It will take more power than this ship can provide, although, of course, that statement is hypothetical given that I do not have the specifications of the ship in question. Spock isn't one to make statements without computed figures, however, and he supplements his report further.
Warp 12 is the minimum required, but it will be a minimum of Warp 13 in another thirty seconds. Captain, if I may enquire—. Spock is promptly cut off by Jim, with a severe Hold on Mr Spock and intense concentration from the mind of Jim. Spock cannot see what Jim sees, but he knows Jim is not one to interrupt him unless for good reason.
Spock, what if the ship was hit by, say, an asteroid or torpedo, off into an angle? Engage the impulse drive, pull ourselves into higher orbit? It's one of those vaguely formed plans that Jim is good at improvising on once set into motion, and Spock finds himself strangely invested in the lesser 20% chance that it could work.
There is little chance of having an asteroid hit this ship at the correct angle and velocity. Jim has his own comments to add, Spock can tell, but there is more he has to say. A torpedo blast would be a risky endeavour, however, if Mr Chekov and Mr Sulu fire one, it is possible. It is not his desire to propose a plan that involves leaving the Captain on an unknown ship, and having torpedoes directed at said ship, but it is the only viable option they have of saving Jim, and Spock will take that over nothing.
Jim agrees. I will be ready with the impulse navigation. A pause, some hesitation. Spock? Try not to kill me.
Spock replies, with no sarcasm, I will do my best, Jim. If they were conversing in physical reality, this would be the point when they would look at each other and share the understanding that they will not fail the other. In the mind, it is a soft glow of morning on bare skin, the orange tinged flame of a tea light. Quietly assuring. Spock retreats from Jim's mind with the gentleness and reluctance of the sun going over the horizon.
—SOAH—