A/N: I have to warn you all, Spock Prime is dealing with a lot of emotion and therefore he may seem a bit OOC. But if you're not familiar with the story "Five Times Nyota Refused to Be Saved," you may have missed that there was a very emotional mind meld between Nyota and Spock Prime. He is now dealing with the consequences of feeling Nyota's pain and his own actions in causing them. Please R&R!
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The golden sands glowed in the harsh sunlight of New Vulcan and an emotion akin to pleasure wound down his spine as the heat soaked into his bones. It was a pleasant departure from the coolness of the starship. He sighed. So human a gesture would certainly make his peers uncomfortable, yet Spock had long since embraced his human side and the thought of the task before him made him uneasy. To give up one's emotions, one's feelings—to Spock it was like he was losing a vibrant part of himself, the part that connected him to his mother.
Yet, it had been his emotions that led him to wreak such havoc on such a loving individual such as Nyota. Her pain and suffering had been indescribable and overwhelming, and to have caused such disquiet in such a tender woman seemed—diabolical. Yes, he thought, he had been diabolical in his attempts to recreate the love he once had for Kirk. It had been a selfish ploy and Nyota had suffered for it. His obsession with his lost love had led him to do unspeakable things and the child—he closed his eyes as tears stung his lids.
If only she had been happy—perhaps she would have taken better care of herself and sought the medical attention she needed. He shook his head of such thoughts, after all, logic dictates that there may have been nothing that could have saved the pregnancy, but a gnawing sense of guilt constantly told him otherwise.
He walked slowly to his new home and began preparations for meditation. He sorely needed an intense session this day. It was when he passed him comm. device that he noticed the link was blinking.
He began the relay and was surprised to find himself staring at Nyota's face.
"Hello," she intoned, "Spock'h," He trembled with pleasure as he heard his true name spoken. She had been the only human he had ever known to pronounce his name the way as it had been given. She was truly an exception in the field of linguistics.
"I am contacting you because I require your help. I am aware that you have access to pertinent information regarding a hostile and previously unknown race. They attacked my ship and some of my crew members were killed. They constitute a grave threat to not just the Federation but the many civilizations that populate space. It is imperative that you respond. Live long and prosper," she ended with the typical Vulcan greeting, fingers of one hand extended in a perfect V.
He quickly responded, and after several attempts Nyota's face once again filled the screen. He drank her image in greedily, searching for the smallest hints of happiness or joy, tranquility, of anything in which he could feel—absolved.
Her face portrayed pleasant professionalism and nothing more.
"Greetings," he told her, "Nyota."
She smiled, and while the gesture should have inspired joy, it was laced with a coolness that had been uncharacteristic of the woman elder Spock had come to know.
"It's Captain Uhura," she corrected. It was a gentle warning; subtle, but firm.
He paused, then replied, "Very well Captain, how may I be of assistance?"
"You have information about the collective. They attacked my ship. Tell me about them."
The elder Vulcan knew it was a direct command and not a request. He blinked a few times in succession, surprised at this new Nyota staring back at him. As he thought upon it, however, he found that he respected the steely air of command she had cultivated.
"I can only hope the little I know about them may be of assistance Captain," he acquiesced and she nodded for him to continue, "In my timeline, our crew breached a temporal distortion field in space and were transported to the 24th century. Starfleet, while becoming increasingly advanced had not been able to subdue the collective, and several attempts to conquer Earth and various other star systems had been narrowly averted. We were aided in attempts to escape and resist their efforts by a Starfleet captain who has yet to be born in this timeline, that is, if he will in fact, be born in this timeline at all."
Spock shook his head as memories of death and pain filled him. He remembered the screams and shouts of crew members as they were either killed or taken by what had been termed in that timeline as "The Borg."
"I cannot of course, say the captain's name or give you any information concerning his background. That may disrupt the timeline in ways we cannot foresee."
"Of course," Nyota nodded, "Tell me what you can."
"I can tell you that the key to defeating the collective will be to strike at their source: their queen. Their queen drives them all with her purpose. She is in a sense, a biological super computer. She acts as a central processing unit of their race, distributing orders and delegating tasks. The collective was disrupted when a member of Starfleet of that timeline uploaded a virus to her mainframe, and disrupted all operations and essentially disconnecting all of her—workers."
"We were able to escape and return to our own timeline," he told her.
He did not add that they had taken aboard one of those that had been a former member of the borg who later became Ensign Susan Aoki, and even later Admiral Aoki-Rosseau, ancestor of the very man—Jean Luc Picard—who had saved them, thus creating a time space conundrum that had both fascinated and terrified Starfleet, later causing Starfleet to create a list of directives in situations where time travel could not be averted.
"Would you be able to synthesize a similar virus?" she asked.
"I am not certain. The technology of that time is far removed from our own. However I will try."
I will do it because you asked me, Nyota…… The thought whispered against their tentative bond and Nyota flinched.
"Thank you. I am grateful you are fulfilling your," she paused, "Contractual duties to Starfleet."
Don't do this for me...never for me…I don't need your favors….her mind whispered back.
To anyone watching they were having a civil and utmost professional conversation and any outsider would miss the roiling tensions churning beneath the surface of their thoughts.
"I have word that you will complete the Kolinahr," Nyota remarked, "I am not sure if congratulations are in order."
"Many Vulcans undergo this process. It is an essential facet of our culture."
Sorrow and guilt laced with grief pressed into Nyota's mind through their tenuous bond and she forced herself to smile.
"It has been pleasant seeing you again Elder," she told him, "Please contact Captain Kirk and make arrangements to come aboard. We may need to begin plans for coding the virus as soon as possible. We will be passing near New Vulcan in three standard days."
"Of course," he nodded.
Nyota terminated their link and Spock held back the wave of sadness that filled him.
Please forgive me Nyota, he silently begged and hoped however illogically, that in three days he could begin to repair the damage he had done.
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