Primal Instincts
Spock should have known that something like this would occur the moment Scotty had a problem with the transporter ("a wee bit issue, nothin' aye can' handle!" He had insisted). The moment he gets back aboard the Enterprise, he will order that trouble-making piece of machinery for a replacement. Without issues. Yes, he will certainly do so as soon as possible.
If he could open his communicator.
How illogical, he thought when a low growl escaped his mouth, to be frustrated by an object he couldn't access without possibly breaking it. Spock wouldn't have had this problem, of course, if he had any fingers to work with. But in fact, he had paws and long claws with strength enough to break a large branch.
Spock looked at the shiny reflection of the gold exterior from the communicator, his large brown eyes narrowing in disdain. His entire body couldn't even fit the reflection; covered in dark brown fur, as large as a Terran grizzly bear, two long six-inch white piercing fangs sticking out of his big muzzle, and two small ears twitching periodically at the top of his head.
Spock huffed, flopping onto his behind in a ponder when he realized he was a sehlat. His long tail swiped to the side as he looked up at the darkening blue sky of Earth. He won't be able to contact anyone with his huge paws and no one would come searching for him since he was forced into shore leave. So that meant he was on his own until the week was over.
The native species of Vulcan allowed him to accommodate the random destination the transporter left him, which happened to be in the middle of a snow-covered plain. He can absorb heat from his thick coat of fur and he could go for a few days without food and water. By then, he should find some sort of civilization to help him in his… situation, so to speak. Not like he wanted the help, but he had little choice in the matter.
With that plan in mind, Spock carefully grabbed his tiny communicator with his front paws and attempted to stand on his hind legs. Keyword: attempted. Turns out, there's a reason why animals don't stand like humanoids. Spock knew that automatically, his head circulating with knowledge and logic like any Vulcan, but he decided to try and defy the odds anyway. But being a sehlat, his weight was unbalanced and awkward (he was fat like a Terran panda, his mind tried to correct, but he convinced himself that it was just the fur), which in turn made him fall back on his behind.
His state of mind to stand in confidence like the First Officer he was, collided with his new altered body. Spock couldn't help that both sides of his mind battled – human against Vulcan, with the addition of animal instinct. It wasn't fair that this was happening to him. All he wanted to do on his shore leave was work, like always. But the Captain insisted he'd "take a break" because he was driving the young man mad (though he didn't seem angry or crazy, then again he never fully grasped human emotions).
Spock shook his head, scooped up the communicator into his jaw, and began his travel on all fours. The more he lingered the colder and darker it will get, something he wants to avoid. Vulcan or sehlat, are not used to the dropping temperatures Earth provided. Now with this time for himself, he should look into how he will get back onto the Enterprise. It wouldn't be logical to board the starship using the same form of transportation that transformed him into a sehlat, the probability of the same thing happening again is 87.478%. For all, he knew others had been changed to animals before he was the last one to be beamed down or he was only one at all. He'll need someone's help to board a shuttle. How that would work he would, as the Captain has always put it, "wing it".
Spock had some difficulty traveling up the snow-covered hills and mountains. Now he understood why his former pet I-Chaya despised climbing. Hauling himself up a cliff, using his claws to latch onto the crumbling dirt until he was on flat ground. His chest heaved deep breaths, already feeling exhaustion hit him in his large bones.
It would be wise if I find sustenance before I rest. I will also need to find shelter as I am unfamiliar with my surroundings, Spock thought. The animalistic nature he has tried to suppress during his journey finally arises, making him stick his nose up in the air, following the scent and sounds that carried along with the wind.
There, in the distance. A stream of water, not yet frozen in the heavy climate. Spock followed it in a hurry. If there was a water source then there should be living creatures nearby it and, hopefully, those are humans; or at least someone similar.
When the saber-toothed bear reached his destination, he was pleasantly surprised to see a few deer sipping away from the stream he so illogically craved for. Based on their appearance, Spock could easily classify them as the red deer which are native to Texas, which was completely off from San Francisco (the place he was supposed to be).
Carefully stomping over to the large stream of water, Spock could finally see a proper reflection of his new appearance. He sighed, dropped his communicator between his legs, and sat to cup his front two paws in a makeshift bowl for the water. Cool liquid entered his mouth and splashed pleasantly against his muzzle. He closed his eyes for a moment of peace.
"Look, mommy! He's drinking weirdly!"
Spock's ears perked up at the sound of a child's exclaim, near enough to hear it. His eyes snapped open while he lifted his head, dropping his hands, scanning his surroundings for any humanoids around. 'Finally, someone that can provide me the assistance for my travels' he thought in mild relief. But there was no one. Except for the deer and fawn.
His eyes widened slightly when the older deer tilted its head toward the fawn, lips moving with Standard words leaving its mouth. "Don't be rude, Quincy." After she scolded her son, she looked up at Spock with intelligent eyes and a sheepish(?) smile. "I apologize for my son, he doesn't realize what he says before he says it. We are not used to seeing bears down here."
The son, Quincy, seemed to deflate by the mother's words.
"Fascinating," Spock muttered, disregarding the term of being called a bear.
"Pardon?"
"Forgive me, I do not wish to be… rude," he faltered for a moment before continuing. "I require assistance. I need to know where the nearest human civilization is."
"Why do you want to go look for the humans?" The mother looked surprised, if not startled. "They are dangerous, it's best to keep away from them."
"I am sure that they will not attack me."
Just as he finished his sentence, a familiar sound blasted right through the forest and the tree he was sitting next to exploded, a newfound phaser residue sizzling the wood. A few inches to the left and it would have gone right through his skull.
A chill ran right down to his bones, adrenaline began pumping through his veins, instinct kicked in telling him to run, run, RUN! The deer that were with him had already disappeared by the time his legs started kicking. His jaw clenched his communicator tightly, a good chunk of snow melting in his mouth when he hurriedly grabbed it. Everything moved in a blur. The fight or flight reaction had never hit him so powerfully before, not in his Vulcan body. Even his half-human counterpart never reacted to more dangerous situations than this. Why was this different? He's faced with dozens of dangerous foes and missions across the galaxy, why is one phaser so… so… terrifying?
Spock had managed to find a cave, a good ways away from the original stream. He tried to hear any footsteps, but there were none. The hunters must have gone after the deer, their original target. He placed his communicator down and huffed.
Grrrrr.
Spock froze. Slowly, he turned around to face another animal larger than him. This black bear was intimidating: its fur was rugged, some patches removed from old scars; it was aged; a large scar went over its eye; sharp claws clicked heavily against the cave floor. Spock reflexively stood still, refusing to let his instincts control him over logic.
"Well well well, aren't you a sight?" The old bear chuckled darkly, his voice old and raspy. The beast took a step forward, circling Spock so that he blocked his exit. "Oh don't look so tense. Come in, sit down. It would be rude to barge into someone's home without getting to know each other, don't you think?"
"I apologize, I did not know this was your home, I believed it was unoccupied," Spock stated emotionlessly. "If I had known this cave was yours I would not have disturbed you. I was nearly killed by hunters, so I needed a form of shelter."
The bear scoffed. "What kind of bear are you?" He questioned pointedly, his eyes giving him a once over, though lingering on his fangs. The bear frowned when he couldn't recognize the scent his nose picked up from the animal. "You've got a weird smell. What's up with those things? You a cat or something?"
"I am a Vulcan in the body of a sehlat."
The bear let out a gruff laugh, but Spock gave no reaction toward it.
"A Vulcan? Those are the pointy-eared humans, no? I thought their species died out after what heard from a few hunters." Spock felt a glare melting his impassive stature. "And a sehlat. Never heard of them."
"They were native to Vulcan, there are not many of them left. Like the Vulcans," he hissed defensively. "Sehlats take the appearance of Terran bears and extinct saber-toothed tigers. They are a powerful race."
"Terran… Earth creatures, right?" Spock nodded. The black bear's expression turned to a weird one. "Now I don't know when's the last time you saw a river but you're not a Vulcan."
"I saw a river recently and I was a Vulcan. I am the First Officer of the starship Enterprise for the Federation and Starfleet," the sehlat corrected with a hint of pride in his voice. "I was beamed down from my ship for forced shore leave when I was unexpectedly turned into a sehlat. I was attempting to find a civilization so I could find a shuttle and get back aboard when the hunters attacked."
"So what you're saying is that you're a Vulcan turned to a bear-cat because of weird spaceship mishaps?"
"That is a crude summary, but essentially yes. I am also not a bear-cat."
The bear looked at him with dark narrowed eyes before scoffing, turning around, and walking deeper into the cave. He glanced behind him when he heard Spock take a step toward him.
"No. You stay there. Saving your kitty ass from those hunters, you don't get special treatment," he snapped, despite sounding tired. He turned back around and resumed walking. "You leave in the morning."
"You mentioned earlier that we needed to get to know each other," Spock, surprisingly, looked expectant. He reminded the bear of a young cub who wanted to make a new preschool friend. "My name is Spock."
The bear chuckled again with a sly grin. "That's a waste of a name. Stupid. 'Kitty' suits you more. The name's Randall."
"That's not my…" But he had already left. Spock snapped his mouth shut. He turned to face the cave's entrance, slowly lowering himself to the floor, and laid his head across his paws so his nose was near his communicator. His eyes drifted to the stars, seeing them twinkling. Some were planets he explored, others he has yet to visit. And up there somewhere was the Enterprise, waiting for his return.
Illogical, his mind told him. But he couldn't care less. He will get back to his home, to the crew. His family. And nothing will stop him from achieving that.
"Ugh, you're still here?" Spock turned from his spot on the floor to look at Randall, who was slowly appearing from the darkness with a distasteful glare. "I thought I told you to be out by morning."
"My memory has not deteriorated, I remember your insistence," Spock nodded as he stood. "But I have also gained the impression that you know where the humans are located. I will need your assistance in traveling there."
"Like hell you do," he muttered. The older bear went off deeper into the forest with the sehlat following, unfortunately. "Look, kid. The humans are hunters. Hunters are evil, mean hairless monkeys with guns that shoot bright lights that turn you into dust."
"Certain humans will not act as such toward me once I show them who I am. Logically, they will send me aboard the Enterprise once they understand."
"Oh yeah? Does logic tell ya how you're going to do that?"
A pause.
"... I now recognize the flaw in my plan."
Randall groaned with an eye roll, taking Spock aback. He wouldn't have realized that animals also have such emotional responses as humans. He supposed such feelings were universal. Fascinating.
Silence settled between them. It had been a few hours until the two had stopped by a larger stream of water. In it were a few bears, each standing by and catching salmon in the river with ease. Spock looked on with his keen sense of observation skills until his attention was brought back to Randall moving into the water.
"Where are you going?" He asked with a small tilt with his head.
"Gettin' breakfast," came the gruff reply. The Vulcan-turned sehlat sat stiffly, waiting for an inevitable return. Some bears eyed him oddly, whispering things he couldn't hear over the rushing water. But he didn't mind them. It wasn't the first time someone looked at him because he was a different species. His attention was toward the swimming fish that lingered just a few feet from him. His stomach grumbled. He hasn't eaten anything since the start of this whole mess.
His hungry stare hasn't gone unnoticed by Randall.
"What are you waitin' for, kid? Fish are not just gonna fly into your mouth just by lookin' at 'em," the old bear's gruff voice snapped him out of his stupor. He shook his head and sat straighter to regain his composure.
"I am what most humans consider vegetarian, I do not eat the skins of animals." He also wanted to question why the bear kept referring to him as a kid when he was not a child, 29 to be exact, but the bewildered look that was cast toward him stopped his comment.
"Vegetarian? You're a kitty with those huge fangs! What are they for if it ain't for hunting?" He exclaimed, questionably sounding offended. He sighed when Spock raised an eyebrow then motioned his paw toward the spot next to him. "Come 'ere. You're eating somethin' good whether you like it or not, I don't care whatever diet you're on."
"That would not be wise-"
"Look, you're not a Vulcan or whatever anymore, right? So get yer ass over here before I grab your tusks and drag you over. I don't need you dying of starvation before you get to the humans," Randall muttered distastefully. But Spock looked at the water warily. The old bear furrowed his eyebrows, ready to snap again when it clicked.
Kitty can't swim. Gosh dang it!
"Hey, it's not that deep, you won't drown," Randall hissed. Spock's face turned tense as a rock. The older one rolled his eyes before trying a lighter approach. "It's okay, kid. I've got you. If you fall, I'll pick you back up."
Although disgruntled for having to be talked like a child, Spock took a hesitant step forward. Water traveled up his front paws, soaking his fur like he wore a heavy coat in a dense atmosphere.
"That a boy, Kitty," he said when the other arrived. "Now, we gotta be patient… And… Now!"
While Randall caught a salmon with his powerful jaws, Spock had unsuccessfully and ungracefully attempted to catch a fish with his two front paws. In turn, it resulted in face-planting into the water. Bears that witnessed the nonnative animal laughed loudly at his stunt. Randall grunted in frustration, eating the fish in a quick gulp, then went to help the other up.
"Get up, Kitty! And don't you ever do something like that again, you looked like a freak of nature!" Randall shouted. Spock couldn't help but bow his head in shame and embarrassment. The half-blind bear huffed. "You know what? Here, it's time to learn how to be a predator."
For the next few hours, from dawn to dusk, both creatures hunted through the streams like no tomorrow. It took a while but Spock finally understood the skill of catching fish. They tugged their pounds of food into the cave. Once they arrived, they feasted with as much food they could devour. Spock was almost startled by everything he ate, most certainly more than he could eat as a Vulcan in a month. The way his teeth tore into the flesh, breaking away to the delicious meat past the scales. He'd never tasted anything so satisfying.
It wasn't long until the stack was gone, leaving two content animals in its place.
"So, half Vulcan and half-human, huh? Sounds tough," Randall muttered, cleaning his sharp teeth with a bone from the fish.
"It is occasionally difficult to manage," Spock agreed with a sigh, his eyes gazing up at the stars. "One side of my brain insists on logic and facts while the other just wants to feel. It is conflicting during interactions I have with others, especially humans. They assume that I am cold and heartless, but that is not the truth. I do know what it feels like to find humor. I do know what it is like to fear, to love. But I am seen as a machine."
"Hm…" Randall hummed before he flicked his makeshift toothpick away. It rolled right on the floor, ultimately stopping when the communicator got in the way. The bear grumbled. "So what's up with that thing? I see you take it everywhere you go."
"It is my communicator, it allows me to stay in contact with my crew. Unfortunately, I have not been able to use it without the risk of damaging it," the sehlat huffed, growling faintly to hold up his large paw. He clicked his claws together, rubbing the dried blood and dirt from the earlier fish. "Even so, I doubt they would be able to understand me."
"Well," Randall began as he stood up with a stretch. "You won't need to worry about that. Now that you don't look like a fool when catching fish, you can get going with humans. North from here, about four days' travel, is a camp where most humans live. I'm sure you can find your means of getting back to your home from there. We'll leave in the morning."
"We?"
The black bear smirked at him for a split second before walking deeper into the cave for rest. Spock subconsciously wagged his tail in delight. When he realized what he was doing he snapped at it to make it stop. Vulcans turned sehlats do not show emotions, that is preposterous.
For the next few days of travel, Spock managed to learn more about the ecosystem than he ever could as a Vulcan. Randall taught him how to act like a normal animal in an attempt to draw away from unusual features and humanoid habits. However, the stoic one still had a few habits to break, such as showing power to lesser creatures and the continuous attempts to stand straight up on two legs for long periods. Randall would always roll his eyes and insult him when the sehlat tried to do it, mentioning multiple times that he looked like an idiot. Spock, as usual, responded by mentioning that he had a high IQ and his history during his astounding academics on Vulcan. Spock wouldn't have admitted it but he has grown to appreciate the older bear like he would a mentor, as odd as it sounded. He was fond of him and his unique rants about annoying rabbits. All was well, he concluded.
Until the wolves came.
"Well if it ain't the king of the caves, it's an honor to see you," a wolf cackled with a mocking bow one afternoon. She, along with a whole pack behind her, began surrounding the once previous meal of a rather familiar fawn to include them into their circle, breaking their stride from their continuous travel toward human civilization. The center wolf that spoke growled harshly. "You are trespassing in our territory, Randall."
"We're just passing through," the bear stated calmly, though by his stance anyone could tell he was ready for a fight. "But it looks like your meal is a little young for your tastes, Sasha."
"Us predators have to eat somehow," she grinned, barking a little to scare the fawn (Quincy, Spock remembered). She laughed at his yelp. "Now that you and your fat friend are around, I think we'll have a feast tonight."
"I believe we will be unmatched," Spock muttered to his friend, gazing at the hungry wolves with a blank look, and chose to ignore being called overweight. "We may be strong but they outnumber us, we can easily be defeated. The probability of our success of escape are-"
"I don't need probability," Randall snarled. The wolves started closing in on them more, blocking any chance of escape. But the old bear had hope in Kitty's survival, he will get the boy and the fawn out of here. Even with a cost. "Get the kid and run. I'll meet you by the bottom of the mountain, continue North."
The sehlat would have looked alarmed if he hadn't had a mindset of a Vulcan. "Leaving you behind is unwise. You will not survive their attack."
"I'm giving you an order, Kitty! Now when I give you the signal, you do what I told you." Wolves started lunging into their circle, but they were hit away by both larger animals. Randall suddenly let out a thunderous roar before charging at Sasha, who was tackled to the floor. The rest of the pack immediately went in aid of their leader, allowing Spock to get the fawn.
Following the plan, Spock rushed forward and snatched the fawn into his mouth, being careful not to harm him, before fleeing the scene. Quincy yelped a few times when his ride bounded through the snow, weaving away from trees and jumping over rocks. Sounds muffled and blood pumped into his ears, it was all Spock was focused on.
His ears perked at another distinctive roar before it unexpectedly ceased. He felt his heart tighten and his eyebrows furrowing.
Everything seemed to blur together until the fawn turned around. He yelped again, warning the sehlat of their approaching enemies. Spock instinctively turned his head, his eyes marginally widening at the proximity of the wolves. He forced his legs to kick faster against the ground. It wasn't just the instinct to flee from death but the sense to protect life mixed in. The fawn was going to live if it's the last thing he does!
"I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die. I don't wanna die!" Quincy cried loudly. If he was still Vulcan, Spock would have forced the fawn to calm down through a mind-meld, but he'll have to just endure with the booming voice rattling his eardrums.
The sehlat looked up at the oncoming mountain cliff. It was steep, very steep. The abrupt dead-end would surely be their demise. Spock had no time to decide when it came into view. With increasing speed, space began to shorten and the cliff neared. Quincy was now shouting at him to stop before they crashed but Spock had a different plan. In a last-second crouch, he leaped into the air and his claws retracted. As calculated, he latched on, but he was barely hanging on. Spock grunted as he tossed Quincy over the ledge with a turn of his head then he used his back legs to push himself up.
Sasha had similar ideas by jumping up and chomping onto his exposed leg. Spock released a jaguar-like cry of pain. He kicked his injured limb, trying to knock the wolf off.
"Get up, come on!" Quincy exclaimed, only able to watch without being much help. Spock gave one last slam before Sasha released him. With the minor help from the fawn who pulled on his ear, the sehlat managed to pull himself up to safety. Spock panted heavily, in both exhaustion and pain. He pushed past the feelings to look down at the wolves, a glare morphing across his features to see them smirking at him. With a huff through his nose, he turned and began to limp into the trees.
"What about me?"
Spock froze. His eyes closed momentarily. "Go back to your mother."
"But I don't know where she is, we got separated when the wolves attacked," Quincy explained. The fawn looked over the edge with a concerned stare. "I've never been this far out before. I don't know where my den is." He looked back at the other. "You have to help me!"
"I have already helped you from being eaten," the sehlat frowned. "I am meant to go to the city, not find your mother. It is illogical to waste any more of my time."
"But why did you save me if you won't help me?"
"I must watch over life."
"Like a superhero?"
"No, I am an explorer, a scientist." Just as he began to walk away, Quincy skidded in front of him. Spock's patience was wearing thin already but he forced himself to stay calm. "I advise you to leave my proximity."
"No," Quincy stubbornly retorted, raising his head in the air to prove his point. Spock deadpanned before he pushed past him. Of course, the fawn stumbled aside then followed. "So what's your name?"
"Why are you following me?"
"If I'm with you, that's better than being eaten by the pack of wolves if I'm alone." Logical, Spock thought. He agreed with the statement with a hum. "What's that thing?"
Spock paused to turn his head, watching as Quincy pointed at the object tied to his neck by a thick vine. It was his communicator. He shrugged his shoulders a bit so it adjusted properly on his back; his glare deepened. "Nothing of your importance."
Quincy didn't say anything more about the object. But he did talk about anything his young imagination came up with. He always sported a smile and chatted happily, not minding the one-sided conversation that Spock increasingly despised.
It wasn't a few hours after Spock spotted tall buildings in the distance. His tail wagged for a moment in excitement before he bounded closer to the civilization. When he reached the place, he made sure to stick to the shadows and avoid being spotted. Considering humans and their emotions, they might attack him because of his violent-looking appearance.
"Woah!" Quincy suddenly whispered beside him, making him jump a little. He forgot he had a follower, having tuned out the mindless conversation the young animal provided. The fawn looked around the city in wonder and awe. "I've never been this close to humans before! Mom always told me that they were dangerous."
"Yes. That is why we are taking caution in our approach," Spock stated quietly. His brown eyes scoured the area. "We need to find the shuttle bay. Unfortunately, I am unfamiliar with this area. It will take some time to locate it."
"Then why don't we just ask someone?" Before Spock could object, Quincy already moved out of their cover to prance further down the streets without a care in the world. The sehlat let out an uncharacteristic whine of despair, hopping in his place for a moment before following the fawn. As predicted, people (both humans and other species) leaped out of the way when they saw him limping along.
"Your actions are careless," Spock hissed once he caught up to the young one. "Citizens will see me as a danger and will capture us both."
"You worry too much, Mister. Everything will be fine," Quincy smiled. After emptying the streets like a plague, they managed to find a fellow animal. The fawn smiled up at the pigeon on a light post. "Hello! We need a little help. Do you happen to know where the shuttle bay is?"
The pigeon cooked its head to stare a beady eye at them. It flapped its wings in astonishment and surprise. "Woah! Well, aren't you a little big to be purse dogs!" The southern-sounding ladybird exclaimed. "What are you doing out here, sugar?"
"I'm helping my friend get onto a shuttle and he'll help me find my mom!"
"He is mistaken, we are not friends and I was not helping him with anything," Spock stepped forward. "I was searching for a shuttle and-"
"Wait, hold up!" She interrupted. "You ain't tellin' me that you're leaving this child by himself now, are ya? Ooh, I'll tell ya boy, you better not be tellin' me that! I can cover you in white so quick, I'll make you like a polar bear."
"Ma'am, if you knew my situation-"
"Was this big mean fat jerk gonna leave you?" Quincy pouted his lip and sadly nodded his head. Spock's jaw dropped marginally. "Oh sweetie, don't be sad. Mama Maybell will help you get back to your mommy. Do you want that?"
"Yes." Maybell nodded with a smile before she began flying back in the direction of the forest with Quincy following. Before they went far, they stopped when the sehlat called them.
"Wait!" They looked at him. "I will assist the fawn in finding his mother, I swear by it. But please tell me where the shuttle bay is, I need to return to my crew. My family."
"And why is your family any more important than the child? Sounds selfish to me." Spock looked to the side in shame. "What makes you think I even know where this place you talkin' 'bout?"
"I do not, but I have limited options." His gaze went to Quincy. "I agree, my greed to arrive at my people has clouded my judgment. Logic has been sustaining my life for most of it, but I have learned that it does not apply right now. I apologize for my ignorance."
"No need to beat yourself, dear, even if you deserve it," the pigeon reprimanded. She then held her head high for a smile. "Luckily for you two, I know exactly what you're looking for. Come along now, we won't be long… So, how do you expect to steal a shuttle? Oh don't give me that look, it's the only reason I could think of! Not every critter out there has the thought to come into the city for simple directions."
Spock released his lifted eyebrows to glance at his communicator. "You hold logic in your statement, however, I will reveal that I am not just an ordinary creature."
"No kiddin'," she muttered. Swooping down to land on the walking fawn's back, she gazed at the object that was attached to the other. "It's one of those talking things that some humans use. What are you doin' carryin' that 'round?"
"It is mine." For a moment, Spock let out a discreet sigh through his nose. "For a few days, I have been attempting to reroute its wiring and reprogram it to make it an acceptable translator so when I reach the shuttle I can vocally command it through speech. Unfortunately, I do not have the proper materials and conditions to do so. My physical anatomy also has been presented to be an adherence."
"So… Your fingers are too fat."
A louder sigh. "Essentially, yes. But I have not gained weight, it is merely my increased body mass and abundance of fur."
"Whatever you tell yourself, sugar." Spock shot her with a Vulcan-sehlat concealed glare. "But if it's something that needs to be reinvented, I know just the mammal! He's got a knack for these kinds of things, I'm sure he can whip up a translator with that flippy thing of yours in no time! And his place is just a few minutes up from here, toward the shuttle station. You won't go far from where you're supposed to be."
Spock pondered the notion as they continued their quick trek through the town, ignoring (or not realizing) the various pedestrians that nearly crossed paths with the group and ultimately jumping away in fright. Before long, he nodded. "It seems like a logical course of action. Lead us onto an efficient course towards the inventor."
"Right away… erm, I still don't know your name, sweet pea."
"I don't know his name either," Quincy agreed with a hopeful glint in his eye. Spock figured that it was irrational to keep his identity hidden away if he were to be assisted by both creatures.
"Spock is the name humans, including my mother, have given me. My actual name is unpronounceable beyond the Standard language."
"Spock's a nice name! I like it," Quincy exclaimed happily, surprising the sehlat for a moment of pride. "Sounds weird."
The sehlat deflated again.
"Here we are~!" Maybell sang a few minutes later, so they slowed to a stop in front of an old abandoned subway station from the 21st-century. She flew off to the ground and quickly walked up to a small opening in the fenced gate, gesturing with her wing. "His lab is down here."
She got in just fine; Quincy too with little difficulty. Spock, however, was a different story.
"Hm… It seems you're a little too-"
"I am not overweight."
"I was gonna say you're a little too tall, sweetheart."
"With all due respect, no you would not have, Miss."
Maybell rolled her eyes, having a feeling that another retort was ready to fire if she didn't end it here. Merely stepping back and gesturing to the sehlat, the two herbivores watched as the omnivore used his two paws to pry between the gap so he could enter. He'll have to make sure to pay for property damages when he returns to his regular self. The pigeon would have chuckled by the subtle look of triumph and 'I told you so' displayed across Spock's expressionless front if Quincy hadn't done it first.
It earned him a menacing glare.
The old subway was dark and mysterious; devoid of humans and trains, representing no life minus the spiders and rats that crawled throughout the area. It was obvious no one had been down there for more than a century, as some of the structure inside had caved in leaving piles of rubble and dust. The pigeon led the fawn and sehlat down the railway and into the tunnel, not indicating where they were going. It didn't take long to arrive at their station, however; as they came across an abandoned train car. It looked old and unmoveable, but the glowing windows defied the options of it being abandoned.
Maybell had told them to let her go first so she could warn the one inside, in case the inventor happened to get spooked by so many presences, as of which are unfamiliar. The other two agreed without arguments. It had been a few minutes since the pigeon had disappeared without a word, leaving the fawn and sehlat waiting uneasily in the darkness (Spock decided to ignore how Quincy was pressing so close to his side as an attempt to hide away for some reason – how illogical). It didn't long after that until they were greeted by unpleasant noises.
Something inside shook the entire cart, rocking and vibrating with every pound. It created this thunderous noise that echoed throughout the deadly silent railway and made Quincy yelp before shooting down in between the gap of Spock's legs. Taking a glance at the shaking herbivore, Spock returned his attention to the cart only to realize that a figure appeared in the window of the door and grew closer to them. Spock stayed still, unsure of what to do. Should he flee? But then he wouldn't know what was coming, something his Vulcan curiosity hasn't changed like his body. Should he stay and attack? Perhaps it is a possibility to gain answers, but the risk to endanger not only himself but for Quincy as well was too great.
Time had run out by then as the figure had reached the door. Spock instinctively let out a low defensive growl as an attempt to warn the intruder off, but the other did not acknowledge it at all. The fawn below, cowering in fright and using his strong legs and fur to block anything out, whimpered in fear which only empowered the unwanted protectiveness in the sehlat.
Finally, the door opened and Spock crouched lower to the floor, practically suffocating Quincy, in such a case to attack the unknown creature in the cart if it were violent. This creature will not harm the two of them, Spock will make sure of it and-
"Woah! Woah! Woah! Watch it, will ya?!" A small annoying voice instantly brought Spock out of his last-second thoughts. Big brown eyes swished around, trying to locate the large creature from before. But there was none. "Down here, buddy."
Suddenly, he felt… confused. His eyes landed on this tiny dirty white rat, who wore a fitting lab coat and small circular glasses. Yet, despite the size, he didn't doubt the small adversary. Too many times had he been on missions that revolved around underestimated opponents.
"Oh calm down, honey," Maybell suddenly flew in to sit beside the rat on the bar stool with a friendly smile on her beak. "This was the coocky rat I was tellin' you about, the one that can fix up that swanky device of yours."
"A pleasure, Mister," the rat bowed dramatically. When he straightened back up, his beady red eyes shined with what looked like curiosity and amazement. "My, aren't you a beast!"
Before Spock could respond, the rat had speedily hopped down only to climb back up on Spock's fur and rummaged around his body with gasps of astonishment. The large animal refrained from snapping in defensiveness at the sudden invasion of personal space (something he was already withdrawing from Quincy).
"Thick coat of fur, good for the freezing climate but remarkably breathable for the hotter temperatures; sharply pointed ears for no doubt increased hearing capacity; beautiful large brown eyes to see in the darkest caves; thick, stubby claws good for running and attacking but strangely not good for climbing; a lovely long tail, gorgeous; oh and those fangs, six-inch wonders that could tear the greatest meats and toughest woods." The rat finally sat on his nose, gazing at his brown eyes with excitement. "Tell Vermin, oh please satisfy Vermin's wonders, what are you?"
"A sehlat," Spock answered tightly. He reached up to pluck the rat from his nose, dangling the creature by his claws, which yearned him an undignified 'hey!'. He raised an eyebrow. "You are the inventor that has a reputation for tinkering with human electronics?"
"Yes, siree!" The upside-down rat grinned and thrust his thumb toward himself as he did before reaching out his paw. "Vermin's the mad scientist around these parts. The name's Vermin."
"Obviously," he muttered, wondering why the animal spoke in the third person. Spock also inwardly commented on the irony before nodding curtly and gently shaking paws (or more like paw to claw). After setting the rat down, the sehlat introduced himself. "My name is Spock. Beneath me is a fawn named Quincy."
"Oh, how wonderful! Very wonderful!" Vermin clapped his hands in joy as Quincy finally creeped out of the bundle of Spock's fur, flashing the rodent a small nervous smile. The sehlat narrowed his eyes for a split second. He couldn't help but notice the unstable tone the rat used. Vermin didn't notice his distrust as he frantically gestured them inside his home.
Such a home looked more like a surprisingly well-stocked and maintained a miniature laboratory in the train car. Spock couldn't help but observe in awe at the rare elements contained in labeled beakers and glasses. Chemicals boiled in Bunsen burners and projections of data graphs displayed across the rusty walls of the lab. The sehlat, if he were human, would have squealed in excitement.
"Ah, Brospial acid, in its basic untainted form," Vermin suddenly appeared on his shoulder, leaning close to the glowing pink beaker like Spock, who quickly retracted. The rat jumped off his shoulder to the counter, running around the little area with supplies. He stopped in front of a small level and pulled it. "A rare element, increasingly difficult to come by if you don't know where to look. However harmless it may seem, one-touch with pure sulfur and-"
The beaker poured a drop onto a small pile of dust. Upon impact it exploded, spreading the dusty residue all over the counter. Vermin grinned, Spock frowned in a way.
"Excellent use for weapons against the humans! Vermin's best seller."
It made Spock frown deeper.
"So, Vermin hears that you have a certain device in need of readjusting?" The white rat twitched his tail in anticipation. Spock carefully removed the communicator latched onto his body and set it down on the counter, where the scientist promptly observed it. "Oh, Vermin has seen these dozens of times! Had a few of them a couple of months back, now Vermin's relatives and customers own Vermin's new personal heater for your home or to make traps for them nasty predators! Here, at Vermin's lab, he welcomes all low-managing prey who can't defend themselves. What do you want Vermin to do with this exactly?"
"I require you to construct a language configuration vocalization device that will allow the sounds of my voice to broadcast into the Standard English language so I can communicate with humans and those who use the matter of language without confusion," Spock stated determinedly.
"What…?" Quincy narrowed his eyes in confusion.
"A translating device," Vermin answered with a promising hum. He opened the device with some difficulty before observing the item that was as big as his body. "Well… It's doable, Vermin can do it in an hour."
"Very well-"
"But!" The rat exclaimed, snapping the communicator shut with a snap and sliding it over to the sehlat with a strange expression displayed on his face. "Vermin will need something in return. His services aren't cheap."
"Aw, come on! We don't have anything that we can give you," Quincy whined before Spock had the chance to comment, who was becoming increasingly irritable with the lack of progress they were making. "What is it that you want anyway?"
"Nothing you can't get, that's for sure," the lab rat scoffed as he began to slowly walk away on his two back paws, flawlessly duplicating a human's stance. "Leave before you stench up Vermin's store with disappointment."
"Come on, V', don't be like that," Maybell said lightly with an upset frown. "What happened to help others?"
"Sorry, no deal."
Slam! Vermin jumped in fright, spinning around so quickly he nearly got whiplash. But the rat fell back when he got a full view of a muzzle with long sharp teeth and a low, dangerous growl coming from it.
"I have had enough of your talk," Spock spat, his words harsh and cut through the threatening atmosphere that brought chills up everyone's spine. His deep blazing eyes were burning a hole into the rat, but his mind glazed over to the emotional and short-tempered side of his personality. Whether it was still from his human side or the sehlat he has yet to figure out. "You will do as you are ordered without a mere complaint. For the punishment you will receive if you disobey will be arduous."
Vermin, surprisingly, gained a little courage and dared to speak, yet his voice was small and shook with fear. "A-And what makes you think you can speak to Vermin in this way?"
"You said it yourself, Vermin, you welcome all prey members of the food chain while you sell offensive weapons towards the opposing hunters, and I," he spoke with a fierce snarl, looming dangerously close to the gulping rat, "am a predator that is not hesitant to end your pathetic, short-lived life span."
A small pool of yellow appeared from beneath the rat, making Spock almost raise an eyebrow in disgust. When the lab scientist frantically nodded his head, the sehlat dropped back down from his position to stare at the other, his face suddenly impassive as ever.
Vermin didn't even try to speak before he rushed back to the communicator and began tinkering at full speed. While he did, Spock moved like a phantom, striding across the cart to exit it into the cold railway of the abandoned subway. His feet padded across the dusty cement, occasionally going over rubble; alternating between cement and iron belonging to the rusted tracks. It was until a few minutes later he had finally flopped down into a laying position to stare deeper into the darkness, his eyes trying in vain to adjust in the void while his ears twitched at any sound that passed. Drops of water splashed into the puddle in front of him, persuading him into the reason that it was raining on the surface level. But other than that, there was silence.
A soft huff emitted from his nose, a grumble coming deep within him as a result. The sehlat felt tired, exhausted even, and he didn't know why. He dictated that it was of his emotional outburst toward the rat. It was illogical, perplexing, and, if he were honest... unnerving. He wasn't supposed to lose control, it defied the teachings he's learned on Vulcan and what made him who he was. He wasn't a violent, threatening being like the sehlat part was turning him into. Spock was never short-tempered, never impatient and demanding. It was all the fault of the unexpected transformation, nothing more. If it could shrew his thought process into an animalistic carnivore when hunting, then it can alter his personality entirely.
Or perhaps it really was him, a small voice inside his head protested. Only this side had been hidden away by both his counterparts, like his human half and Vulcan alternative was afraid of this… other-self. The more uncontrollable, savage that he was. Maybe that's why he was turned into a sehlat of all creatures; not only were they indigenous to Vulcan where he was from, but they were extremely aggressive towards anyone around them if provoked. That's why Vulcan children learned not to underestimate them at a young age. Just like how Spock was seen. "Stay clear of the one who is inferior, he will lash out like the uncontrollable one that he is" his schoolmates had rumored around him, making sure he was well aware of the taunts. Not like he let them know it bothered him, even if it might have.
No, he is not like that (yes he was, the voice retorted). Spock was more than a sehlat's instinctive aggression, he has his Vulcan and his Human side to thank for that.
(But you could be so much more, the voice persisted.)
I don't want to be more, I want to be me! His temper began to rise, but he forced it down. It didn't stop his shoulders from tensing.
(Feel it. Embrace it. A chance to control more power than ever before. The wild that lies within, the savagery that yearns to be released.)
Spock paused at the thought, lingering a moment longer than it should before he shot it back down. His eyes flickered down at the puddle before him, able to see a faint outline of his features from the glow of the cart behind him.
(Who you are…) Who I am… (Is the animal others fear…) is the monster others fear… (but you'll conquer it and show them that you are more…) I am more…
(You will always) be more.
"Spock!"
The sehlat let out an uncharacteristic grunt when he was tackled by a small body, which flattened him onto the floor with a heavy thud. A wave of emotions flooded him: first surprise, then anger, finally it settled onto peace? He didn't know how to describe the warmness when he realized that it was Quincy who disturbed his irrational thoughts. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the friendly innocent presence.
"Hey, Spock?"
"Mmm?"
"Are you okay?"
Spock made an equivalent sigh for a Vulcan, his body heaving up and down slowly which jostled the fawn who laid on top of him. "I am… adequate to continue on our journey."
He felt the weight on his back slowly slide off to move against his side instead. He moved his still injured leg away when it was touched, hearing a soft apology coming from the fawn soon after. Despite not being Vulcan anymore, he was still aware of the hesitant movement coming from the other and how his body shivered slightly against the chill air that drifted in the tunnels.
"Do you think my mom is still out there?" Spock opened his eyes at the sudden question, the brown orbs staring at Quincy with a blank look. The fawn wasn't making eye contact, his stare trained on his folded front hooves. "I mean, what if she's worried? Or what if she's trying to find me but got lost? Or what if she wasn't even looking at all because the wolves got her and maybe she's trapped or worse-"
Quincy cut himself off when he was swallowed by thick dark brown fur, engulfing him in a sea of warmth. The previous cold that rocked him now subsided enough to relax into the figure.
"We will find your mother," Spock muttered quietly, his stoicism dispersing for a sympathetic exchange. His eyes closed again. "I promise it."
Before he added another comment, a soft snore came from the sehlat. Quincy muffled a giggle, not used to seeing the strong emotionless protector of his allow himself to look vulnerable in front of the young one. Someone might immediately suggest his exhaustion, but Quincy preferred to see it differently: the sehlat seems to trust him enough to fall asleep, so he should feel safe under the omnivore's constant watch. The fear from when he first met the sehalt disappeared, Quincy allowed himself to close his eyes and lean into the fur, following Spock in a peaceful slumber.
What he didn't notice was Spock's tail wagging in delight for only a moment before relaxing like the rest of the body.
Spock refrained from growling as he adjusted the itchy collar that was fastened across his neck. Displeasure was a prominent emotion and his constant uncomfortable fidgeting with it made Maybell peck his head in a scolding manner.
"I believe that rodent had adjusted this device to feel as distressing and uncomfortable for me as possible," he muttered distastefully. With a sigh of defeat, the sehlat dropped his claw from where the collar was. "His matter of spite has decreased my patience with him. It would be a likely chance that he will endure the consequences if I laid eyes upon him again."
"You did threaten him," Quincy piped up.
"The action would have been deemed unnecessary if Vermin did not exploit our eagerness to gain the altered communicator." With another sigh to recollect himself, Spock returned his focus to the busy streets that paved away to the shuttle bay that they finally found. They hid in an alleyway on the other side of it; the lone building that stood in the middle of the plastered area was like a buzzing hive full of bees ready to sting. He gazed at the location, reflecting it on their hiding spot as he attempted to find a solution to get across. An unfamiliar predator and a young fawn would surely draw more attention to themselves than they already have and, based on the whispers he hears from walking pedestrians, animal control will be right at their heels the moment someone reports them. He's never encountered those types of careers in his life, unsure of what they entitle other than the mere name, but Quincy supplies that they are people who should not be reckoned with – he takes the advice to heart.
"This is as far as I can get you," Maybell mentioned as she landed on a nearby light post. Her eyes watched carefully. "I do hope y'all get home safely to your families."
"I hold gratitude for your assistance, Miss Maybell. I am certain that we would not have made it here without you," Spock tilted his head downward in a somewhat bow. He lifted his head again when she chuckled.
"As long as you visit me I'll be satisfied, honey. You know where to find me. Ta ta, kids!"
"Bye, Mama Maybell!" Quincy exclaimed ecstatically with a raise of his leg when the pigeon began to fly off. They watched her disappearing figure for another moment before they turned back to the problem at hand.
This station will be heavily guarded due to the constant use of various species and the occasional transport of important figures. If they had a chance it would move in through the night, that way no one would easily spot them and their only concern would be evading security. Even so, they'll need a disguise in the event they were caught. Their solution was to steal a hologram manipulator from some con artist down the street who happened to be selling them at an unreasonable price. Quincy did so discreetly (and even intentionally led a passing officer to the direction of the criminal with a series of trash kicking). With this device, Spock can easily mask himself as his original form to walk past the guards without second thoughts. It was a simple yet complicated plan that could not afford failure.
When night came, the plan was set. Based on previous shuttle stations he had visited, the sehlat had confirmed a similar route that the guards walked after hours full of spying from afar. Another issue presented itself when Spock turned on the holographic image over his body and began cycling through the options for the right one. And Quincy was the one to point it out.
"So how am I gonna sneak in?" The fawn tilted his head once the hologram settled in, revealing the figure to be an ordinary Federation security guard by the name of Gregory Perkins. Quincy looked a little guarded at being so close to a 'human', which the other acknowledged but didn't comment on.
"I am simply going to refer to you as a special therapeutic animal assigned to Captain James T. Kirk who requires assistance after an unwelcome incident upon a planet before shore leave," he explained after a moment of thought. "I will personally transport you to the Enterprise and work from there."
"Oh okay…," Quincy trailed off thoughtfully with a nod. He then furrowed his eyebrows. "But wouldn't they notice you standing weirdly?"
Spock proceeded to look down at himself, observing his holographic form to be, in fact, on their knees and hands. For the plan to work, this cannot do. So, logically, he stood up on his hind legs to look more natural. He grunted softly when his body threatened to teeter, but with the help of the wall and Quincy's support, he had enough leverage to stand up straight. He moved his arms openly, looking at the fawn expectantly.
Quincy gave an approving nod. "Better."
"As long as no one makes physical advancements toward my person, the hologram will not distort and we will not be recognized," Spock commented with the drop of his arms. With one last look to make sure the coast was clear, he began surging forward at a neutral pace with Quincy following behind.
When they made it past the front entrance of the station, they immediately began to draw attention from pedestrians passing by. Spock, who was used to having so many pairs of eyes staring at him, didn't look at all perturbed. But Quincy looked ready to have a panic attack. The sehlat knew that paranoid look in his eye, catching the sight when he quickly glanced at him, it was the beginning of a fight or flight response. He understood the overwhelming feeling, he could sense it somewhere in his mind, but letting the fawn sprint off and create a scene would only destroy their plan. And Spock could not let that happen.
So, without a moment of hesitation, he placed a disguised paw on the fawn's back and stroked him gently when the boy flinched. "It is vital for you to calm yourself, Quincy. We cannot afford to be discovered," he muttered so no one could overhear.
"B-But there's so many people," Quincy squeaked. Spock also noticed the rise in breath takes. He slowed down their pace, his attention now fully turned to the fawn.
"I need you to take measured intakes of oxygen at systematic variables to ensure you reduce your likelihood of initiating a panic attack." When he received a confused stare, he simplified it. "Take slow deep breaths."
Soft sounds of releasing air wafted in through the sehlat's sharp ears, informing him that the advice was heeded. When Quincy seemed to have relaxed, they quickened their pace again. Unfortunately, not the moment they arrived at a section where shuttles were situated and so close to boarding onto one, they were suddenly stopped by security.
"Greg! I thought you were off today. Don't tell me they called you in?" Well, that wasn't the interaction Spock was expecting. Now he had less than two seconds to figure out what his holographic projection acted like in real life.
With a light clear of his throat, he awkwardly loosened his stiff posture and casually shrugged his shoulders, trying to think back to how Jim spoke to him so he could mimic. "I got orders from our boss, said needed the extra hands. Couldn't say no."
Spock inwardly shuddered at the grammatical errors.
Fortunately, the other guard didn't seem to notice. "Didn't think you'll kiss up the boss' ass so quickly, Greg," he said with a snort. There was a short pause when he noticed the animal cowering behind Spock's leg. "What are you doing with a baby deer?"
"He is a fawn," Spock momentarily broke character to correct the guard before he caught himself and continued to act 'normally'. "The little mammal has to act as a… support friend to Captain Kirk on the Enterprise. I've been given the green light to transfer this little rascal onto the ship. Now, if you don't mind, I've gotta skedaddle."
Spock missed the bewildered look from the human to turn and walk off toward one of the shuttles. He would have thought that this was it, nothing stopping him from finally getting on the ship.
Until he heard a phaser charging from behind him, setting most likely on stun. He froze when the guard from before began speaking rapidly into, what he assumed, was a communicator.
"I have a possible suspect imposing an officer, he claims to be transporting a therapy animal for Captain Kirk aboard the Enterprise, the vessel however has not contacted ground for any reason. I require backup to the shuttle bay."
Spock refrained from rolling his eyes. What does the human think he'll do? Set off a bomb with an animal? Completely illogical and, more importantly, illegal. His brown eyes scanned the area, taking note that the remaining people of the night began to stop and stare at the scene. Well, so much for a discrete approach.
"Sir, put your hands where I can see them. You're coming with me," the guard asserted. Spock's eyebrow twitched when he heard what sounded like handcuffs scraping together. The moment the human reached out to touch his shoulder, the hologram glitched. At once, the man cursed. "What the hell?!"
His reaction was reasonable, seeing a gigantic furry being switching between its form with a human. However, automatically switching the phaser set to kill was beyond regulation. Spock only had a moment to react when the shot went off, barely grazing his shoulder. Fury rocketed through the sehlat and upon instinct and the desire to make this human pay for hurting him, he unsheathed his claws and swiped at the man's arm, surely leaving three long heavily bleeding scars in its place.
Unfortunately, his holographic projection glitched for a moment before shutting down completely, leaving his true form exposed to the public. To make things worse backup had arrived and began firing away at the two while the pedestrians ran for cover.
"We must leave!" Spock exclaimed as he picked up Quincy with his jaws and began to escape. He knew he shouldn't have trusted a mangy device from an unreliable source on the street.
"But what about the shuttle?!" Quincy suddenly pointed out.
Spock screeched to the left when he saw an opening to a vacant transportation unit. Without verbally answering the question, he hopped inside, skidding right into the wall. The sehlat didn't give himself a moment to breathe before slamming his paw on the button to shut the door. Placing a shaken Quincy on the floor, he shot up to the control panel and delicately pressed a few buttons and levers to start up the shuttle and escape the station. It was a narrow escape, but they made it through.
Spock sagged against the panel in relief. Attempting to take deep meditative breaths, the pain of the graze finally made itself known after the adrenaline wore off. With a small grunt, he placed the final coordinates into the system before falling back into a sitting position. They watched the world rapidly zoom away from them, starting with grey solid buildings and busy streets to the lush green landscape of a forest.
Estimated time of arrival: two minutes.
"While we traveled I estimated the location of where your mother was last located. We will arrive soon and then you will return to the comforts of your mother and den." As he spoke this, Spock attempted to ignore the tightened feeling around his chest. Strange. He never encountered such a feeling when he was a Vulcan.
Quincy, surprisingly, didn't respond in the normal upbeat tone Spock was used to. A simple "Oh" was his answer and it didn't settle right with him. But he decided that he wasn't the best candidate to speak about emotions so he let it be.
When the two minutes were up, the flying vehicle slowed to a stop. When it landed in a rather familiar open space, the two ventured off in hopes of finding the common den. Fortunately, it wasn't long until Quincy recognized his surroundings.
Yet, after a few minutes, Quincy stopped short when he saw someone familiar in the distance. "Mommy? Mommy!"
"Quincy?" Spock slowed to a stop when the female deer came closer, beginning from a walk to a sprint. He could practically see the relief radiating from the mother the moment the two reunited in a hug. "Quincy! Oh, my little boy, how I missed you! Oh!"
Tears were shed but happiness was the strongest emotion. No sadness.
"I missed you too, mom," Quincy mumbled into his mother's shoulder. He took a step back to look at his mother directly. "You wouldn't believe what happened! When we were separated from the pack of wolves, Randall and Spock came to save me!"
The mother finally addressed him, as if barely acknowledging he was there. She approached him cautiously, like he was the wild animal here, but surprised him nonetheless by a soft peck on his cheek.
"Thank you," she smiled shakily. In a lower whisper, a sigh escaped her mouth and something replaced the relief in her eyes. "I heard what happened to Randall, you two must have been close. I'm sorry."
Ah, it was sympathy. The tightening around his chest grew.
"He was always alone, I've heard his name and the stories that went around him but nothing good." She smiles. "But when I heard some forest creatures talking about another bear with long teeth and soulful brown eyes… I knew it was you. He must have trusted you a lot for him to let you follow him around. Teach you how to act like one of us."
Spock hadn't noticed he had looked down until he looked back up again, this time holding an inquisitive stare.
"One of you?"
"Rumors are that you're not who you look to be, I suppose that's why you seemed so human the first time we met," she explained. Spock nearly corrected her at the assumed role of a human but decided against it. There was no need. The mother's eyes flickered to his shoulder and a frown returned. "You're hurt."
Spock discreetly hid his hind leg behind the other. "It is nothing. I can handle the pain."
She didn't seem to agree but stepped away. Turning her head, she announced to the fawn standing a few feet from them that he should say goodbye, thanked Spock once again, and prepared for their departure.
Quincy stepped forward but stayed a distance away from the sehlat. Spock nearly raised an eyebrow wondering why the fawn decided now was the time to acknowledge his insistent need for personal space. But by the way, Quincy looked shy and upset, he decided to keep his face neutral.
"Bye, Spock. Uh, I-I, uh, um… I-"
Forget it. It's about time he showed what humans called affection. Not the Vulcan way, his furry ass, he's not one right now. Loophole. So, with that thought process, Spock closed the gap between them to engulf the small animal in a strange hug. It was a tiny bit awkward, with his huge teeth in the way, but Quincy relaxed into the touch anyway.
"Goodbye, Quincy," Spock murmured.
"Thanks for keeping your promise, I'll never forget you," his small sob muffled in his fur. Spock lightly rubbed his back with his paw in an attempt to lessen the cries. Quincy pulled away to stare at him with red-rimmed eyes. "Will you ever come back?"
Spock stared at him for a moment before the corner of his eyes wrinkled in a faint smile. "Look for the pointed ears and blue uniform."
Quincy giggled at his wink.
"Quincy, come on dear!"
"Coming mom!" Quincy exclaimed back. Giving the sehlat one last hug, the fawn ran off with a slight jump in his step. "See you soon, Spock!"
Spock was alone sooner than he expected. With a heavy sigh, the sehlat turned and left for the shuttle.
Jim Kirk paced the bridge of the Enterprise, one hand pressed against his lips while the other was holding up said limb. His distress was understandable, considering the situation he found himself in. Or rather, the situation someone else put him in.
Shore leave ended approximately two days ago. Since then, all personnel have returned and are ready to continue their travels across space.
All except for one, that is.
Jim sighed before turning to communications. "Any updates on his whereabouts?"
"No, sir," Lieutenant Uhura answered almost immediately, even though she received no other information. It was obvious who he was talking about considering the man they were searching for wasn't present in the first place. Especially since said someone was the communications officer's boyfriend. With a grim look, she clarified the statement. "Nothing on any frequencies."
"Then broaden them! Increase the search radius, open all frequencies, use all scanners, do anything that can find my fucking First Officer!" Kirk yelled in frustration. Not that he was mad at them, but at the lack of progress. The crew exchanged glances but did what they were told, even if they have been doing such for many hours.
"Jim, you can't be pushing the crew like that," McCoy stepped up with a noticeable frown. "They're doin' all they can to find that blasted hobgoblin. For all we know he could have decided to take a break from it all."
At once, Jim snapped his head in his direction with a look of fury in his eyes. "You and I both know damn well that Spock would never be late, especially when it comes to getting back on the ship as Vulcan-ly as possible." Turning back to look at the widescreen, he sighed, dropping his arms and slumping his shoulders. "He's in trouble, I know it."
McCoy opened his mouth to say something when the Captain's chair beeped as a sign of a communications link. Walking over, Jim answered the call and was met with the confused voice of the Chief of Engineering.
"Erm, Captain? I think you should come down to the shuttle dock."
"Scotty, what is it?"
"It would best ye look for yerself, sir," the man replied uneasily. Jim cut off the link before exchanging a confused glance with the doctor.
"Mr. Sulu, you've got con. Bones, with me."
Spock bounced his eyes across the people who wore red uniforms, all pointing phasers, and was ready to fire in case of his assumed attack. If he didn't have a Vulcan mindset, he would have rolled his eyes. Not only was he disappointed by the staggering lack of security in the shuttle dock, but their lack of following regulations when it came to a sudden intruder. So far, he has not read his issue of being here and the consequences of trespassing on a starship.
Of course, at the same time, he didn't want to be shot either.
"As I have told you, I need to speak to the Captain immediately," Spock repeated the order as he sat as straight as a statue in front of the large group. Although he seemed unphased, he was holding back all the fear within himself to not cower away from the weapons. By their shocked and unnerved expressions, he could only assume that the translator was working fairly well.
"He's on his way, mate, but let me ask you a question," Scotty narrowed his eyes slightly with distrust. "How can we know for sure that yer Mr. Spock?"
Spock nearly growled at his wearing impatience but figured that it was a logical question to ask. However, how he was going to prove that statement with the lack of pointed ears and slanted eyebrows, he has yet to find out. His tail twitched impassively.
He didn't answer such a question yet when the door swooshed open and two men rushed right in. His tail wagged a little more excitedly at the recognition of the two before he forced it to settle down.
"Woah," muttered Jim in surprise.
"What the hell is that thing?" Bones spat in disgust. Spock deadpanned.
"That thing claims to be Mr. Spock," Scotty revealed. Jim promptly froze. "It came in here through a shuttle and everythin'. I don' know how but it somehow bypassed our security codes to enter. It was askin' fer ya, Captain."
"So you're saying that a freaking fat teddy bear with teeth that can tear holes in all of us flies in and comes in here and tells you to get Jim?" Bones scoffed. "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"On the contrary," interrupted the animal, sending a shockwave between the two, who also raised an eyebrow. "It is true, yet I must be obligated to correct you that I am neither overweight nor a bear. I am a sehlat, an endangered species that originated from Vulcan before it was destroyed."
Jim shifted uneasily on his feet by the reminder of the event that occurred a few months prior. He decided to focus on the problem at hand. Observing the "sehalt" in front of him, he couldn't help but feel skeptical about the identity of the mammal. Sure, it would be a thrill to find his FO again, but finding him as something other than Vulcan was a little far-fetched. If this really was him, then he'll need a little more proof than mere words (despite the uniquely similar mannerisms he compared between the animal and Vulcan). Not only that but he was downright unnerved by how big this creature was. Even from a few feet away he could tell that the bear-like animal stood only to the height of his jaw. It brought a chill down his spine.
"If you are Spock," Jim stepped forward with a cross of his arms, ignoring the fear to get away from the large beast. "How did you get like this?"
"I transformed when I used the transporter. I ended up in a forest in Texas for the past nine days, twenty-one hours, twelve minutes, and eight seconds. Mr. Scott had even admitted that the device was experiencing minor malfunctions before I operated it."
Scotty widened his eyes. "I remember that," he gasped before running forward. "Mr. Spock, it is you! I apologize, sir. I thought the problem was nothin' but I guess there was more than just a minor disconnection with area location."
"Then I highly advise you and your engineers to start decommissioning the transporter. I suggest, Captain, that you make an executive order to have the device replaced before another incident occurs," Spock stated matter-of-factly with a raise of his paw for a slight subconscious scratch of his ear. McCoy began to mutter curses as he scanned every part of his body with a tricorder while Scotty nodded and rushed off. With another deadpan, he added, "This has been quite a... unique experience for me that I wish not to happen again."
"Well, your readings are normal. Other than a few injuries, you're healthier than Jim could ever be," McCoy huffed as he pulled the tricorder away. "I need you to come to sickbay so I can bandage your wounds."
"Very well, doctor," he nodded curtly, slowly getting up to follow the man.
"Hey! You can't just drag him away, I've got questions and I want answers!" Jim exclaimed as they followed right after them.
And Spock told him everything he knew. He told him his unplanned adventure across Texas, the animals he met, the friends that helped him, the evil rat in the subway, the incident in the shuttle station. He told his Captain about his experience to the very last detail and, if he were honest, it felt relieving to have that off of his chest. McCoy, after their brief session, insisted on once he was turned back to normal that he'd join the therapy group offered on the ship. Of course, he immediately declined.
After his injuries were taken care of and had to endure nearly a dozen hyposprays (now he understood why Jim displeased them so much), Spock finally left the sickbay to follow Jim up to the bridge.
"Are you sure you want to work? I mean, you can take a break. You just got here and you're not in the most… peak condition," Jim cringed and Spock had a feeling he wasn't referring to his bandaged shoulder and leg.
"I am capable of performing my duties, Captain. And I have taken a long enough 'break' from the Enterprise as it is," Spock replied almost bitterly. Kirk pressed his lips into a straight line but said nothing more.
When the doors to the turbolift opened, Spock was bombarded with smells he's noticed before but is amplified by an extreme amount. Yet with the eyes of a sehlat, curiosity to explore the familiar area pulled him by the tusks. Don't get him wrong, he was half paying attention to Kirk explaining to the crew what's up with their new addition, but he was more interested in these beeping sounds and glowing lights across the dashboard and the musky cologne that Chekov wore. Marching over to the science station, he stuck his nose against the glass pane that supplied information, vaguely aware of the Ensign sitting there scrambling out of his seat. Good. This was his station, to begin with.
"Commander."
Spock wandered across the room, inspecting each individual and sniffing them equally. Sulu had this lavender scent to him, sticking more on his clothes than anything; Chekov and his awful new cologne made his snout snort in agitation; Ensigns either smelled of oil or food. But the moment his pacing reached the communications section, his eyes locked onto a surprising brown.
"Commander!" Spock grumbled instinctively in agitation, especially when he had to pull away from Nyota's sudden petting. Twisting around, he faced his Captain who called him, only to promptly freeze at the item Jim seemed to be holding carelessly. Yet Kirk didn't seem to notice as he continued talking. "As I was saying, Spock will still be fit for duty. He can still talk, think, and, more importantly, command. Now I-"
"Drop it." Jim abruptly paused at the interruption. His eyes widened a little at the growling sehlat who stood defensively.
"Spock? What's wrong?" He demanded warily, taking one cautious foot back. In return, Spock took a step forward, his growling becoming only louder.
"Drop it!" Jim, realizing that he was holding the phaser, tossed it onto the floor and held up his hands in a passive manner. The bridge crew watched as their Vulcan-turned sehlat snarled at the device before crushing it beneath his paw as easily as if it was paper. His paw raised, his nose sniffing the pile testedly before he sat down. When he raised his gaze back toward the Captain, Jim was certainly confused, if not startled, at the ignorant brown eyes staring back at him.
"Are you alright, Captain? You seem startled. Your heart rate certainly seems to have increased unexpectedly," Spock pointed out matter-of-factly, not at all disturbed by his change in behavior. Jim wasn't the same.
"You tell me! You destroyed my phaser you jackass," he snapped. It was coming out of his pocket, he had a right to be upset. Spock merely looked down to gaze at the remains of the weapon, staying quiet and expressionless. Though anyone could tell the previous Vulcan seemed upset by the way his ears flopped against his head.
Jim took a steady deep breath, feeling automatically guilty at getting upset. He supposed that the altered form somehow enhanced the display of emotions his friend had.
"Everyone, back to your stations," Jim muttered as he turned to the turbo lift. "Sulu, you have comm."
Spock watched as his Captain disappeared behind the sliding doors, inwardly cringing at the movement. It wasn't surprising why control over the ship wasn't given to the FO, considering the condition he was in. However, Spock would lie and deny that it didn't hurt when Jim had trusted his sanity before he recklessly destroyed the stupid weapon. He didn't even know why he did it. It was out of instinct, he supposed. When he was in the forest, his first encounter with a phaser aimed so close to his head; then another encounter at the shuttle station after security chased them down with the weapons, managing to graze him on the shoulder. The fight or flight reaction kicked in again and he chose to fight.
But what if he accidentally attacked the Captain? He tensed at the thought. What if his demeanor nearly cost him his friend's life? The one person Spock has come to trust in his life was so close to dying at his irrational behavior. Jim isn't the only one in danger. Everyone else on this ship was. Perhaps returning wasn't such a good idea, but it made him all the more eager to get back to his Vulcan form.
Not missing the way Sulu made sure to keep his distance when he sat in the Captain's chair, Spock simply positioned himself by the human and sunk into a lying position. He stared out into the glass wall, watching the stars sparkle.
A week had passed of Spock moping around the Enterprise. It had been the same routine: wake up, eat salmon (that took everyone by surprise), head to the bridge, observe, then go back to his quarters where he was confined to prevent further incidents. The crew feared him now. They stepped away, steering clear of the sehlat whenever he was in the room. Despite having the ability to ask him questions, they decided to avoid him at all costs.
They had reasons, after all, he's attacked a few Ensigns and senior officers already. Fortunately, they weren't severely injured but surely spooked. Rumors flew around almost instantly, making others think that he'll bite their head off if provoked! It made Spock all the more guilty. The animalistic horror that lay deep within him was now surfacing and he couldn't stop himself. The incidents involving the crew, he never meant to hurt anyone. It just got out of hand. Luckily, it wasn't long until Scotty fixed his form.
Currently, they were flying to one Starbase that manufactured the teleporter to adjust the one they have now. The plan was instead of replacing the entire thing (much to Spock's chagrin) they'll modify it so when the sehlat steps through again he'll be back to his Vulcan self. So, in the meantime, Spock kept to himself in his room, thankfully no one bothered him as he attempted and failed to meditate.
Yet, not two in the morning one day, Spock was thrown out of his sleep – quite literally. The sehlat had suddenly crashed into his wall, shaking the items on the shelf above him. Even when he fell to the ground with an audible grunt his room continued to shake as if an earthquake terrorized it. Illogical, considering that they were in the middle of space. Something must be happening.
Right on cue, a red light flashed above his bed and a blaring alarm signified red alert. Spock let out a whine as smoke began to enter from the vents, making his lungs fill up with the scent of nearby fires. He let out another, pitiful roar as he bounded up to his door, only to find it jammed. Something must have caused it to malfunction. Smoke filled the room now, making him cough a little, and the area became a lot hotter than his normal hundred degrees. The sehlat peered into the vent, considering the possibility to roar for help when he saw flames exploding from the gap. He sprang back, whimpering when the fire flicked at his nose. Spock was frightened. He needed to find out what was happening, but he couldn't do it if he had burned to death.
Spock gazed back at the door, his gaze switching to determination. Walking back as far as he could, the animal charged at the obstacle and collided with it. No change. He went back and did it again. Nothing. Repeating this process, the sehlat bashed his large shoulder into the metal door until finally, he knocked it completely off.
Spock didn't even give it a second thought before he rushed out of there, bounding past the dozens of Ensigns that swarmed by to do their duties. He vaguely acknowledged some helping the injured ones away to sickbay while motionless corpses littered the floor. His claws that clicked against the tile were barely over the shouts of the crew, sending a nervous chill down his spine. What was happening? He wondered in alarm. Who was-
Suddenly, Spock collided with someone, making him bump into the wall. His head instinctively turned to what he hit and was surprised to see Doctor McCoy staring right back at him. By the position the man was on the floor he concluded that he was the object he nearly trampled.
"Spock! What are you doing?" In return for the question, Spock let out a whine, turning his snout in the direction of the bridge. The human, although frowning by the lack of words, seemed to understand what he meant. "Jim's up there. Klingons attacked our ship out of the blue. He's trying to take them down now."
Spock roared a little before he began to run again. The last thing he heard from Leonard was a warning, which made him all the more anxious to get up there.
"Careful, Spock. These Klingons are angry sonsabitches. One thing that they want more is to have the blood of our Captain and head of our First Officer."
When Spock had all but broken the door of the turbolift from having to climb up nearly six levels when the transit collapsed, he wasn't pleased to find the bridge still and tense, unlike the rest of the ship that rocked with chaos. At that moment, the sehlat realized the explosions from outside the ship had stalled. He concluded that the reason for the sudden pause was because of the numerous Klingons that held the crew at gunpoint with one leader speaking obnoxiously to Kirk. Stealth wasn't an option, his large furry body gave away his presence. In no time he was captured and brought near the two speaking leaders in the middle.
"A sehlat? What is such an endangered creature of Vulcan doing aboard the Enterprise?" The Klingon leader questioned, his voice layered in surprise. He eyed the Captain of the starship. "What are you playing at, Kirk?"
"Nothing. I know nothing about it." Of course, the statement sounded suspicious. The Klingon grabbed the man by the neck, raising him slightly from the ground. Spock growled softly, making the guard point the phaser at his shift.
"Don't lie to me, human," he hissed. His sharp fingernails clawed into Jim's skin, making him squirm, just as the grip on his throat tightened. "Answer me or I'll tell my ships to continue their fire until the Enterprise and her crew are nothing more than specs."
Jim croaked at the lack of oxygen, his face going red by the second. He tried to speak but the Klingon prevented any words from forming. The pained blue eyes of the Captain reached Spock's brown animalistic ones. Once Jim's eyes began to roll to the back of his head, Spock felt all the emotion consume him. The pain, the anxiety of being left in the forest; losing Randall to the wolves; Vermin threatening him; his crew fearing him; the hurt he caused; the instincts he submerged to regain his normal self. But now it all bottled up to one blinding power emotion: rage.
And Spock let it all target the Klingon.
Spock wasn't entirely sure of what happened. He was just sure of that hot burning feeling that coursed through his blood, giving him a welcoming power that he so long craved for. But, as satisfying as the feeling was, he only had the chance to feel the beginning of it before he blacked out. The last thing he remembered was the thunderous jaguar-like roar releasing from his mouth.
When he woke up again, he felt the remaining power still grabbing hold of his mind, stopping any logic that originally was there. He also felt himself in motion. It took only a second to realize that he was towering over the Klingon leader, vaguely aware of the distinctive color of red Klingon blood surrounding his feet, and his jaw slowly opening to surround his head. Spock was unsure why he was doing what he was but he couldn't help but feel gleeful at the upcoming action. His jaw yearned to close and never open again. He wanted to feel the blood splash across the floor and taste the brains of the enemy stuck between his sharp teeth. The fury and excitement clouded everything else as Spock finally took position and-
"Spock, NO!" Someone shouted near him, sounding muffled. But it was too late now.
His jaw clamped shut with an audible Crunch!
2 Weeks Later...
Spock appeared from the turbolift, hands held behind his back, standing proud as he entered the bridge. Despite being expressionless, the crew knew that he was smiling on the inside. They were glad he was back to his regular Vulcan self.
The Commander briskly made his way to the Captain's chair before he turned to face the young man sitting in it.
"You called for me, Captain?"
Jim grinned at the familiar face. "Of course. I wanted to see how you were doing. It's been a while since…" He trailed off to shrug.
Spock nodded nevertheless, not wanting to think back to what he did. "I am managing well. There are a few… additions," he stated, bringing up a hand to drag his finger across his now large sharp canines before continuing, "but I believe that those could be ignored. What matters is that I have returned to my natural body and my emotional responses are under control."
"That's good but… what about the other thing?" He leaned with a knowing smirk. Before he could answer, the door to the turbolift opened and Chekov came running in.
"Kommander! Kommander! Meester Squeaks hasn't been eating and he's been really sad. Kan, you ask him vat's vrong?" Chekov rushed out, shoving a small tan hamster to Spock's face, with a pouting lip. Jim snickered as the Vulcan let out a subtle sigh before turning around to face the Ensign then staring at the mammal.
"Hmph, what are you looking at punk?" The squeaky voice of the hamster snapped.
"Your current owner has been worrying greatly about your declining health. He wonders what would make it necessary to expand your chance of survival and pleasure," Spock reported. Mr. Squeaks scoffed.
"There's nothing wrong with me. I'm all peachy. Sure, the Russian songs are a little annoying but I still get fed, watered, and my cage has been cleaned. I've been living my life," the hamster huffed indignity. Spock raised a confused eyebrow.
"Then why do you seem to have gone into a depressive state?"
"I'm not depressed, ya ding dong," he rolled his eyes. He then placed a tiny paw on his chin, narrowing his eyes to give the Vulcan a look. "But I have been wanting something."
Spock's expression dropped when the small rodent began explaining what he wanted, which almost looked like a deadpan. The crew surrounding them watched quietly mesmerized but confused by the strange exchange of squeaks from the hamster and words from Spock. Once Mr. Squeaks gave a final firm nod, the Vulcan pulled away to stare up at the expectant Russian.
"Vell?" Chekov practically bounced in his place impatiently.
"Your hamster is healthy but demands to be released from his cage at reasonable occasions. He has grown quite impatient with just looking around your quarters. I suggest, Ensign Chekov, that you let your pet roam in any private common room as long as you are responsible for his safety and well being-"
Mr. Squeaks squeaked, raising a paw in Spock's direction. A small glare replaced his impassive statue for a split second before adding, "And Mr. Squeaks wants, and I quote, 'to be the first space hamster in all the motherfucking galaxy.'" His expression softened. "And he wants to let you know that he loves you as well."
Chekov broke out into a megawatt grin. He carefully hugged the hamster in joy, which the same animal returned.
"I wove you too!" Once he pulled away he began to make his way to the turbolift. "Oh, I can't vait to show you the planets! Then, if ve are close, you can maybe see Earph."
When the doors to the turbolift closed, everyone around Spock's proximity cooed. The Vulcan at the center of attention cleared his throat, trying in vain to stop the green tint from appearing on his cheeks. It was useless, they saw it anyway. Spinning around when the praise turned to roars of laughter, Spock stomped into the turbolift and waited until the doors closed and he pressed another button to make it move to slump his shoulders with a sigh.
But then his shoulders bounced slightly and a soft chuckle escaped his lips, a small crooked grin revealing his new sharp canines for a brief moment until the doors opened again.
However, until then, he'll have to just keep on smiling.
THE END
