Here's the chapter that I wanted to write, but didn't have the time. I hope it makes up for the previous one.
Author's note: Barbarous cherry goldfish. You'll know if you know.
From the Notes of Commander Spock
Re: Noonien Singh recording, Session 4
The memories of awakening in Admiral Marcus's care are less readable than others. We know from the ship's own computers that several of the cryo units malfunctioned during the time between launch and recovery, which is not surprising given the duration of the journey. It appears from Noonien's experiences that his own cryo unit began an automatic wake-up sequence but was interrupted. The resulting cardiopulmonary stress and physical shock put him through varying states of consciousness better described by Doctor McCoy. It is clear from the biophysical track of his memories that he was in physical pain when Marcus first approached and questioned him. He withheld his identity at first, and was rewarded with broken bones. Admiral Marcus ordered him to assist in the design of military strategies and weapons, as someone with expertise in the field. When the medical staff reported his unusual physicality to the Admiral, they were granted full permission to experiment as they saw fit, which was as gruesome as one might expect. Staff who disagreed with the course of experimentation were isolated from the 'project' and assigned to other work.
On more than one occasion, some or other activity left Noonien Singh close to death. The trauma which stands out most in his mind is that which brought him closest; but even then, he was uninterested in anything Marcus asked of him.
The head of the medical staff, identified as Doctor Fitzpatrick, made a biometric inventory of Noonien's body and designed an experiment around endurance and mental acuity under various stages of privation. The experiment is morally and primally offensive to any civilized being; the civilized reader is cautioned to prepare him- or herself before reading further.
In intervals of one week, for a duration of eight months, Mr. Singh was given incrementally less food and water, and was kept in a room which simulated fewer and fewer hours of daylight. He was subjected to daily physical and mental tests. The results were recorded and reported. In the eighth month, when Noonien was unable to walk or focus on written words, he asked what the purpose of the experiment could possibly be. Doctor Fitzpatrick replied that when Starfleet revived the rest of the augmented humans, they would need to know how to control them.
Noonien asked to speak to Admiral Marcus. Marcus arrived that evening to encounter a weakened and compliant prisoner, who acquiesced to designing and supervising the construction of the equipment of war. None of the others from his ship, he told Marcus, would do as good a job- better to leave them asleep.
Admiral Marcus expressed that he had the upper hand, that he could very well just let Noonien die and revive the next passenger of the Botany Bay, and start again. Noonien confirmed that he would indeed have to start again, and again, and the answers would be all the same- however, there was a certainty he did not express, that if Marcus admitted to killing their leader, the augmented humans would certainly destroy as much as possible before destroying themselves.
Admiral Marcus gave orders to end the experiment and rehabilitate Mr. Singh, which took a few weeks. Then he was escorted in chains to a drafting office with a cot and a washroom, where he was given access to Starfleet's own archives of technical and historical information under the alias Commander John Harrison. For months, he was not permitted to leave the office. He worked complete focus. Whenever his progress slowed, they would dim the lights in the office or reduce his ration of food. The stress of this torture was so complete that he had physical symptoms; weight loss, hair loss, tremors, and heart arrhythmia.
When Noonien completed the build of the Starship Vengeance and presented a strategy for goading the Klingons into open war while keeping the Federation cooperative, Admiral Marcus approved- and then ordered Doctor Fitzpatrick to terminate the other passengers of the Botany Bay.
The memories are, at this point, erratic. In a moment of desperation with strength granted doubtlessly from adrenaline, Noonien overpowered Marcus, killed Fitzpatrick, and fled from the facility using a transwarp transporter device which reminded him strongly of Gary Seven's invention. Using his knowledge of a London from long ago, Noonien made contact with the Sikh community and effectively disappeared. He plotted, without assistance, vengeance on Starfleet under the hope that the entire planet could not have been as corrupt as Admiral Marcus's special unit. He researched officers, facilities, and emergency plans, and was almost able to exact his revenge on Admiral Marcus with what he regarded as a mere handful of collateral casualties, but for the intervention of Captain James Kirk and myself at the emergency meeting of Starfleet commanders following the Section 31 archive bombing.
Under the doctor's order, we have terminated the recording at this time and will resume when the patient is better able.
-aa
"He went into shock, give him a minute." Doctor McCoy harped at the other medical staff as they disconnected the wires and at the security staff as they cuffed Noonien and bullied him to stand. "Step back a bit," he ordered. "He's not dangerous right now. Give him some air."
Noonien waited patiently and obeyed all orders given to him, his eyes fixed on the ground. A barely visible shiver passed through him from time to time.
McCoy saw it and interpreted it instantly. "Everyone in a Starfleet medical uniform, leave the room. Out! Security staff, two steps back, march!"
His staff fairly tripped over themselves. The security guards were ruffled and offended, but obeyed anyway.
"There, now. Would you like to go back to your cell, or stay here?"
Noonien, careful, looked up.
"You choose. We can cheer this place up a bit, if you want to stay. Put some music on, program some window views."
Spock wasn't completely certain what was happening, but he understood what the doctor was trying to do. He cleared his throat and raised his chin. "Any assistance that you require, we are at your service."
McCoy shot him a grateful look.
"I'd like to return to my cell," he said, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat, then wrinkled his brow. "Did I scream?"
"Yeah, you... Yes." McCoy let Noonien stand when he was ready, and walked between him and the security guards all the way back to the cell.
Once the glass separated them again, Noonien asked quietly, "Spock. Please remain here."
Spock complied, waiting for the security staff to verify the cell lock and leave.
"If your vitals do anything funny, I'll be back here before you can blink," McCoy promised, then gave them some privacy.
The silence lingered for a moment after the door closed. Noonien couldn't bring himself to make eye contact, but managed to ask in a clear voice, "Will you meditate with me?"
Spock nodded once.
An hour later, Nyota Uhura entered to find them sitting seiza, facing each other through the glass, eyes closed. She sat next to Spock and waited patiently.
Spock opened his eyes at once and tipped his head back slightly.
"Bones told me," she whispered.
Noonien, wary, looked up.
"I don't forgive you for San Francisco," she clarified, raising her chin a little. "But I think I understand now."
Spock squashed the impulse to feel surprise.
"It was..." Noonien cleared his throat, paused, and started again. "It is embarrassing to have been played twice the same way. When I met you and your captain on Kronos, I hoped that there were still parts of humanity that were good- is it racist to say humanity, now?"
"Somewhat," Spock replied, "But you have not had the time to adjust your speaking patterns to the fact of extraterrestrial civilizations. It would be wrong to fault you for that."
He nodded. "It seems foolish that we believed ourselves alone in the universe for so long. Humanity was so desperate for some sense of the Other that they created gods and spirits and eventually my people. We are an expression of faith in the immutable destiny of humanity and its lonely need for companionship from creatures other than themselves. But it still seems magical, almost, that they survived themselves long enough to meet others- real Others, from places so distant that they were outside the realm of common thought. It's almost beyond believing and incredibly beautiful. Even yourself, Lieutenant, you are the result of all of this! When I was a boy, your country was under near constant attack from people who couldn't tolerate the culture of others; first European powers who tried to subjugate your ancestors, then cultural imperialists that could not abide independence of thought and ways of life different than their own. Your people endured and progressed in spite of all of that. And you! Whose female ancestors were forced into roles incongruous to their abilities, you are a linguist and a cultural specialist, a highly educated person and an officer. You are strong and unafraid. Tell me what these databases and reports could never tell me- what is the universe like?"
Nyota's cheeks were past warm. "It's beautiful. There are civilizations that live under water, some that breathe sulphur, many that lay eggs. There's one civilization that speaks entirely through transmission of visual ideas directly to the brain. Some are more developed than we are, some are less developed, and some developed in such a completely different direction that we have to change our concept of progress to understand their existence. We govern together and explore together, because the universe is so vast. There must be more of us out there, all we have to do is meet them. Meet us."
"Us," he repeated softly. "What an amazing universe. You don't say 'species' or 'race,' you say 'civilization.' Us." His eyes shone bright, but his gaze dropped to the floor; his eyes closed and forced out a tear. "Oh, Lieutenant. I wish I had been born the lowest peasant in your world."
She pressed her lips together for a moment, trying to contain the question that beat at her mind. She failed. "If that were true, why did you kill so many?"
"No one tried to understand us," he said, eyes still closed. "I woke up in Hell and it was their people and my people. When I met you, I thought there may be some hope yet, that in accepting what was fundamentally alien you had learned some tolerance for differences, that we could live in some way. I confess, at that time I still thought we would be your masters, but I suppose you'll have none of that now. The children have grown up and moved out of the house. I thought I could lead you to the truth, and you would help me to free my people. Then your captain turned on me, on the bridge of the Vengeance. I... didn't expect..."
Spock contemplated his conversation with his older self. Had his own suspicion been so strong as to overpower logic? Would greater knowledge of his "enemy's" background have prevented such an outcome? Would they have been able to overpower Marcus without Noonien? Kirk had been suspicious of Noonien already; nothing else could have happened.
"I killed people who threatened me and mine," Noonien said at last. "No matter how I try to improve humanity, no matter how alike we may be, it's always going to be this way- because you didn't find us and study us. We're not a civilization. We're another species." He looked up again, an infinite weariness hanging from his body and mind like a funeral shroud. "We've never been ready to know each other."
Nyota was helpless and miserable in the face of his conclusion. Even though they shared a genetic, cultural, and linguistic history, they were strangers.
Noonien stood and turned his back on them. "I'm sorry we had to meet this way. He should have let me sleep."
Spock and Uhura left the facility that evening and called together Sulu, Chekov, and Scott.
"We need your help," Nyota told them. "The Archives don't exist anymore, but we need to find something."