A/N Chapter 14 Aka Spock and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Night
One night, Spock overheard the sounds of phaser firing from outside.
The sounds had ripped Spock out of his slumber.
The blasts had been loud.
Very loud and clear.
The Ambassador opened the blinds to witness in a flare of light the intensity of a phaser blast striking the backside of a small Romulan warbird. The lighting from the blast showed that the attacker was a larger Romulan bird-of-prey. It had a long neck with small wings and almost seemingly appeared to be a modernized, steam punk version of a vulture at first glance. He closed the blinds hiding to the side of the wall. Five months of a contentful existence were shattered. He went toward his makeshift bed hiding his family photograph into his sleeve and placing the necklace under his shirt. He retrieved a phaser rifle from the closet.
The scene panned back to show the Romulan warbird crashing against the ground. The larger Romulan craft flew off leaving the trees bending in a eerie way. Blades of grass now bent in a different direction. The Romulan kicked open the lid sending it falling to the side. The Romulan tossed off their helmet falling over with a hand on the side of their chest crying out in agony. The Romulan had thick, bushy eyebrows. His Romulan hair cut was disheveled from the usual 'v' shape. The Empire was furious at him. Yet incredibly lenient chasing him off the mother Romulan warbird. He tore off the armor one piece in a fit of rage. Clunk. Clunk went his shoulder armor. Thunnk thunk went his thigh armor. A part of his pointy ears were missing bleeding neon green. Parts of his slanted eyebrows were covered in green blood as though he had killed someone.
The Romulan staggered over to the side of a tree trunk then started to slouch against it.
"Freeze," Spock said.
The Romulan slowly looked up toward the Ambassador.
"A native?" the Romulan was surprised.
"A new native of this part," Spock said. "Identify yourself." Lyion held his free hand up in surrender.
"I prefer to call myself Lyionel, a human word, I think," Lyionel said. "I am . ." he fell down to the base of the trunk. "Ah!" He flinched, clenching his shoulder. Spock was eying at him cautiously keeping the phaser rifle at the ready. The top half of the gun had Star Fleet Command symbol alongside the mouth of it. "A disgrace. A waste of the empire's time."
"How do I know you're not here to see if I am a threat?" Spock asked.
Lyionel looked up toward the Vulcan.
"I cannot go back," Lyionel said. "Not ever."
"And you speak fluent Federation Standard," Spock said. "Do not use the 'I come from a family of spies' excuse. Romulans have never bothered to spy on the federation."
"They have plenty of spies in there working and gathering information," Lyionel said. "they don't get to the chair, if you're thinking," Spock lowered his gun toward Lyionel. "most of the people are perplexed why. Rumors say the Federation's crews made them change their mind," he laughed, flinching. "I wish I were a spy."
Spock's grip remained steady.
"You have not answered my question," Spock said.
"I believe you call it. . " Lyionel placed his hand into his pocket. Spock lightly put his hand onto the trigger. "You can relax, I did not bring my disruptor with me." Spock's glare was upon the man. Lyionel took out the long, gray pipe short object from the deep large pocket. He held it toward the Ambassador. "A universal translator?"
Spock lowered the gun then took the translator.
"Oh…" Spock said, "It has been a long time since I saw the translator this way." He handed it back to Lyionel who was giving him a strange glance. "I cannot let you in to my household."
"I understand your concerns," Lyionel said.
"Sorry," Spock apologized.
"For what?" Lyionel asked.
"For being unable to help you," Spock said. "If you threaten my home or myself–"
"You will kill me," Lyionel said. "I get that a lot."
"I will toss you into a hole that has a large impalement," Spock leaned over observing for any kind of recording devices on him. The look of horror was genuine on the Romulan. Spock leaned back with his hands on the top of the phaser rifle. "I can give you advice on how to heal those injuries but I feel that would be suspicious, and there for, a target by your government that likely has drones listening in."
"Are you a Romulan?" Lyionel said.
"Arguably, I belong to no species," Spock turned away then made his path toward the house.
"Then why are you here?" Lyionel asked. Spock stopped, painfully and briefly, closing his eyes as a flood of emotions ran through him. The Vulcan had a heavy sigh turning in the direction of Lyionel.
"Decline to comment," Spock said. "Where did you get the universal translator?"
"A shuttle craft came out of an anomaly," Lyionel said. "A time traveler, they said, someone from the future."
"What stardate?" Spock said, approaching the Romulan once more.
"I believe it was the mid 2250′s, maybe the 2260′s." Lyionel said. "I don't really remember." Spock shook his head.
"I have no knowledge of time travelers from that era," Spock said.
"That is because I killed them," Lyionel said. "the shuttle craft is property of the empire."
"And is it advanced?" Spock inquired.
"Not by much," Lyionel said. "it's a older model." Spock relaxed.
"How badly are you injured?" Spock inquired.
"I can't stand keep my balance against a stupid tree," Lyionel said. "I think … I lost a lot of blood."
Spock took a light emitter off the phaser rifle then used it to check his wounds.
"The wounds are not severe," Spock said. "you have suffered some blood loss."
"So I am going to live," Lyionel said. "How cheery."
"The scarring is not going to be pleasant," Spock checked the man's ears. "My apologies, Mr Lyionel." he put the light emitter back onto the phaser rifle then helped the Romulan up to his feet hearing the man's loud high pitched yelp. Spock applied the Vulcan Nerve pinch on the side of the man's neck. Lyionel's head lowered and he fell into the abyss of rest.
Lyionel awoke in what was likely a make shift bedroom. There were four walls around him with furniture decorating the room. The stinging from his chest had faded. He lowered the neck of his shirt to see the wound was healing well given what he gone through. A disruptor beam straight into the muscular section of his chest. He was lucky that it hadn't hit where his lungs were located. The room was well lit by a candle attached to a makeshift candle container that were like a poor man's replacement. The room was well regulated in temperature.
The bed felt like it was made out of lumber, hard and hearty.
He sat on the edge of the bed going through what had happened.
The empire would want to eliminate him in any means possible.
And if this elder was by any means cautious then he would leave this building.
The candle smelled liked honey, oddly enough, now that he had noticed.
"You must rest," Spock's gravel voice came from the doorway.
Lyionel looked over to see the older man leaning against the wall. Spock had long silver hair that reached to his shoulder with braids alongside his pointy, curled ears. He was in a long robe that seemed to be well made for someone stranded from civilization. His bangs were well trimmed compared to his hair. As though he had let go of his hair style for quite some time. Lyionel was impressed to see a Romulan individual, older than him, still around to surprise him. Spock raised a grayed, thinned slanted eyebrow at the man's reaction.
"It is not advisable to leave bed rest after an injury like that," Spock added.
"You helped me," Lyionel said.
"And the drones think you're dead," Spock said.
"This is made of wood," Lyionel said. "They think I am alive."
"Not easily heard through wood," Spock replied. "It is difficult to hear people through that," Lyionel heard buzzing from outside. Spock had his arms folded as he shrugged before adding. "However, hearing what is going on outside is a different story itself."
"What is that noise?" Lyionel asked.
"That is my bee colony," Spock said.
"Oh," Lyionel said.
"Yes," Spock said.
"What is a bee colony?" Lyionel asked.
"Bumblebee's," Spock said. "black and yellow little insects that collect pollen. They are responsible for life as we know it. Flourishing on planets with soil. The ones you accidentally step on when talking barefoot."
"If there are, then I rarely ever see them," Lyionel said.
"Sure," Spock said. "they are not the only pollinators."
"I did not catch your name," Lyionel said.
"It is best I don't," Spock said.
"You told me to identify myself," Lyionel said. "it's your turn." Spock sighed.
"I refuse because that name used to signify someone else…" Spock looked down toward the floor in shame. "Someone better." Spock shook his head. He looked back up toward the Romulan. "You may call me Selek."
"Uh, no, Selek sounds like a every day traveler," Lyionel said. "I don't want to call you old man." The Vulcan had a short laugh.
"That is the best you will get," Spock said. "Mr Lyionel. You refuse to tell me your real name."
"That's different!" Lyionel exclaimed.
"Not at all," Spock said. Lyionel paused, considering it. He nodded his head.
"Both running away from the past," Lyionel said. He used the frame of the counter to stand up. "quite a parallel… ." he leaned against it looking off toward the Vulcan. "I was betrayed by the empire I trusted, and you did something so bad that once you start anew you refuse to be known by the name you were born with?" he cupped his hands together in front of himself. "Sounds like a tragedy happened. Worse than mine."
Spock nodded.
"You may leave in a week," Spock said. "you may sneak out at night and we must never see each other again."
"Ever?" Lyionel asked.
"Ever," Spock said. "You are a Romulan. Romulan Empire is cautious regarding its own citizens."
"It's a curse and a gift at once," Lyionel said.
"Indeed," Spock said. "Mr Lyionel, I recommend you rest yourself. Wounds like that take time to heal."
"All right, old man," Lyionel said. "Jolan Tru."'
Spock turned away with a bad feeling resting in his gut then closed the door behind him.
When Spock awoke next, he was being taken out of his bed, by the arms, by stronger, muscular individuals. He looked over to see the holo-emitter was broken. Spock's heart broke into pieces. The last physical remainder, the last evidence was beyond repair. His photograph was hidden inside his sleeve, that Spock had made sure, before going to sleep an hour ago. He watched the Romulans searching for the beehives, the ones that were beehives, that were hanging above their heads. He looked over to see Lyionel on the floor in the dark two piece outfit hunched forward with tears in the outfit being stung again and gain by his superior officer using what happened to be a long golden staff with a red sizzling tip. He turned in the direction of the Vulcan and spoke fast toward the Vulcan.
"Tor ri nash-veh ken-tor du," Spock said. I do not understand you.
The commander nodded in the direction of the security officers. One of them tore off the sleeve pocket from the Vulcan's sleeve then tossed it over toward the commander. Spock watched in horror, restraining his physical reaction, as the commander slid open the photograph. The commander looked up in disgust toward the Vulcan.
"Etek nam-tor skan," Spock said. We are family. "Tor ri shaya ish-veh." Do not break it.
"Hevam heis'he," the commander said, in a disgusted tone. Human love.
"Hevam-thaessu," Spock replied. Human-Vulcan. There were some Romulan phrases he knew but not all of it.
"Ryak'na," the commander said, then dropped the device. Garbage.
Lyionel looked up.
"Hia," Lyionel said. Oh no.
The commander used the disruptor on it.
"No!" Spock lunged forward collecting what was left of it. "No,no, no, no, no, no."
Spock watched his friends vanish before his eyes. The space that Scott had been was now a large circular hole. The last evidence of his found family turned into a blue screen. Spock looked up, in anger, emotionally toward the commander as his hands crushed the photograph in half. His blood was boiling. Rage replaced all reason. Before the security officers knew it, their primary captain laid dead on the floor after several Vulcan Martial Arts and the fatal Variation of the Vulcan Nerve Pinch. Spock rubbed his wrists, regaining his cool and composure.
"You have died hard and gone to hell, you son of a bitch," Spock said in federation standard.
It was a fairly vulgar statement. Something that Spock hadn't pictured himself saying in the beginning of his friendship with McCoy. The doctor's swearing had rubbed off him. More so than it had before the incident with the whales and Khan. His vocabulary had increased after being inside the doctors mind. And they had became more useful to him, emotionally, and non-emotionally. No one clearly understood him in his second mother tongue.
"Graes thaessu?" Lyionel said. Old Vulcan? In a unsure voice.
Spock knew Lyionel would not last long, and he pitied him, and felt guilty that he hadn't ended his life rather than helping him. Romulan torture was said to be worse than the mind sifter. Spock turned away from the younger man. Spock turned toward the security officers.
"Nem-tor svi' nash-veh," Spock said, holding both his hands up. Take me in.
Lyionel had watched the elder be taken away by the Romulan guards out of the house.
Lyionel was the last to be taken out. Lyionel watched a fire be started in the comfy, cozy home. Spock watched his home burning to the ground. His eyes drifted over toward the forest. As though he had something else hidden within the nearby perimeters. His gaze was ignored as he turned his attention back onto the man made home. His home burning before his eyes. Smoke drifting into the air. Flickering flames landing to the grass. A wildfire happening to the planet at any time. Turning the green planet into a burning planet. Spock painfully watched walls break apart as a gust of flames tore through it with renewed vigor. Green light circled the small group. The last Spock saw was the curtain of leaves burning away falling apart on what had been his front porch.