Title: Home (Multichapter fic with 35 parts)
Beta: un-beta'd D: D: D:
Warnings: bondage, torture, prostitution, explicit sex, drug use, attempted rape
Themes and Tropes: exploration/adventure, outlaws, bottom!Spock
Summary: Jim is heading towards a personal crisis. Their mission is vitally important: to find a new home world for the Vulcan race in the face of alien opposition. Soon it is clear that there is only one planet that will do. To secure the mysterious planet Jim must play his hand perfectly, but guilt at not having been able to save Vulcan and the responsibilities of captaining the Enterprise are wearing him down. Determined to be professional, he forces loneliness upon himself until a kiss he shares with his first officer changes everything.
"Life is short," Spock said.
Those words brought the tight feeling back to Jim's chest and he hugged Spock again. If he'd lost Spock … the idea that he might never have seen those eyes again pained him beyond belief. The excitement he felt paled in comparison to a sudden wave of raw urgency that broke over him.
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters, Paramount does, and didn't create them either, Roddenberry did.
– Home-Part 34 of 35 –
"Tareq, hand me that cloth," Jim asked as he knelt down next to the slightly raised Sakethan structure which stretched all the way down the valley in a straight line.
Without looking over his shoulder he knew when to reach back to take the cloth; in the couple of weeks he'd worked alongside the Excalibur's botanist a certain familiarity had emerged between them. Jim could not say the same of himself and the Vulcan geologist Surik, who was standing a few feet away from both of them and was scanning the structure with a tricorder.
Tareq squatted down next to Jim. "Why didn't your crew finish the job of laying this structure completely bare of earth?"
"Well, I guess as soon as they worked out that this was just another one of those black stone monuments they decided that there were far more important things to do than to finish this off."
Jim wiped the dirt from the stone with the damp cloth revealing the smooth black surface beneath. His crew had already removed all but a thin layer of dirt from the whole structure, so they had mostly finished the job. But only in one small area had they polished the monument, leaving the rest as it was.
"Surik? Any ideas on what this might've been?"
The Vulcan was either too absorbed in the tricorder's readouts or was purposefully ignoring him, so Jim turned his attention back to the smooth surface. He could almost see his reflection in it—hard to believe that it could've survived this unscathed from the elements if it had been exposed to them uncared for. Perhaps the Sakethans had buried it to preserve it in the dying days of their culture. But why? He pulled out a PADD from his bag.
Next to him Tareq sighed. "I don't mean to be pessimistic here, but the more I look at it, the more I have to agree with your crew. There's nothing more to discover here."
Jim skimmed the report on the PADD which read like most other reports on Sakethan black stone monuments. They were constructed during the time of Vulcan colonization; there was no indication that any other alien race may have built them. They extended deep into the ground, all the way to the bedrock. Most of them were, like this one, some kind of walkway or plaza, though they'd also come across some ruined building made of this native stone. He placed his palm to the smooth surface; it was as cold as the rock on which Spock and him had found the first inscriptions and was made out of the same material, too.
"Surik, this still looks like some kind of high road to me, raised so the water will run off it. We're talking about pre-Surakian Vulcans here, so maybe there just isn't any logic to it? They may have built it this way simply to show off craftsmanship."
"The road doesn't go anywhere though," Tareq said. "It just starts at a cliff face and then falls down to sea level here."
Jim got up, strode over to Surik and looked over his shoulder at the readouts. "Have you seen anything like this before?"
He didn't want to add the last two words that would complete his sentence: 'on Vulcan'. It wasn't that he had a problem talking about Vulcan, but whenever he got close to bringing up Surik's former homeworld, every instinct he had told him not to. The vibes the alien scientist gave off where very clear on that.
Surik turned off the tricorder. "I do not know what it is and have never encountered a structure like it. I also do not share your human propensity to 'guess' when there is insufficient data available."
"You wanted it cleaned up, didn't you?" Jim furrowed his brow.
"Once all the soil is removed from the monument the significance that it had to the Sakethans may reveal itself to us."
Then, without a further word of explanation, Surik turned and left, leaving the two humans by the roadside.
"I guess he's gone to look for Vervak? I'm sure he'll come back to help," Jim said, but his voice was lacking any real conviction. "Well, better get started now!"
Tareq and Jim cleared the dirt from the edge of the road first before moving on to the center. It was an oddly satisfying job, Jim thought, giving the stone back its polish. There was a depth to the blackness of the material that reminded him of space. He put his cloth to work furiously, the movements of his hand becoming ever more vigorous and more energetic, moving faster and faster, concentrating on nothing else but the immeasurable darkness that lay just beneath the reflective surface.
"Jim!" Tareq shouted.
Jim snapped his head up, but Tareq wasn't on the road anymore, instead Jim found him standing to one side of it. He was gesturing wildly for Jim to join him.
"Get off it!" he shouted.
Jim turned his attention to the stone again. Was he just imagining it or was it … pulsing with energy? He shook his head. No, nothing there. But he'd felt something, hadn't he? He crawled back off the road.
"Maybe we'll finish that another time, eh?" he mumbled.
Tareq shook his head. "To hell with that. Let Surik do it all, if he really wants to."
The botanist's words were softened by a tremor in his voice. The man was scared, Jim decided.
"We'll talk about it later once we're back at the camp," he said and led Tareq away, back up the valley.
On the way to their camp Jim spotted all three of their Vulcan companions, scrubbing the road near to the rock face with the inscriptions.
It had taken the Vulcans only two days to clear the whole structure, but they'd not done anything apart from clean. When Jim spotted Surik pack his bag for yet another cleaning expedition rather than a botanical one, he confronted him.
"I thought we'd agreed that all of us would continue with the work plan; we're already behind schedule now."
"Your inflexibility is illogical," Surik countered.
"Where are you even going? Don't you think you should tell us?"
"We'll be clearing the other structures over to the west of the river. It is imperative to gather more data."
"What do you mean, 'we'?"
At this Vervak and Shonn picked up their own bags and started to walk away from the camp. Without even as much as a nod Surik turned away from Jim, as if he were bored of his company, and set off to follow them.
"Should we go after them?" Rick, the geologist, asked.
Tareq shook his head. "Well, you'd need ten Andromeda class tug vessels to get me near another one of those Sakethan monuments. Besides, the Captain's right: we're going to get behind on our work plan if we don't stick to it. The plant life here won't categorize itself."
Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "Rick, you'll help us with the botanical work again today. Don't want you working on your own."
It was late by the time they got back to their camp that night as the work had taken longer with only the three of them to do it. The Vulcans were already having dinner and so they sat down to join them.
"Didn't you make us anything to eat?" Tareq growled.
"It would appear not," Surik said. "There are ration packs in that crate. It does not take long to prepare one. Surely you can manage that yourself?"
Jim saw Tareq's blood pressure rising as the dark flush on the man's face deepened.
"Right, yes," Jim said, standing up. "It's an easy task that won't take a few minutes. We'll see to it ourselves."
It was rude that they hadn't thought to make food for them as well, but they probably thought it was illogical or something. Jim took some of the ration packs and prepared them as everyone sat in silence.
After dinner he retreated to his tent, filled the hypospray with the clear solution as Bones had instructed him to, and injected himself with it. He followed up on that shot with an hour of mental exercises. It was tiring to keep up his concentration for that long, and he yawned. He reached for his communicator.
"James Kirk's personal log, supplemental. I can really feel the affect of the drugs. They're definitely starting to work. My mind has been clearer and more focused these last few days than it has been in a long time."
Closing his communicator he lay back on his sleeping bag and stared at the synthetic fiber ceiling. The first ship was arriving tomorrow and not a second too soon. The split between the humans and Vulcans in the camp was slowly reaching toxic levels. Maybe they'd just spent too long together irritating each other with foreign customs and manners.
The ship would bring with them three thousand Vulcans, including the elders as far as he was aware. Communication with Saketh wasn't easy, there was no subspace relay station nearby, so the messages they'd been able to send and receive had been limited to short lines of text. So the arrival of the USS Valiant also represented his first opportunity to exchange messages with the Enterprise. He'd already pre-recorded videos for everyone apart from Spock. That was the one he'd been putting off.
He took his PADD and played back his personal log entry, the one which he knew off by heart by now—the one in which he told of the promise he'd made to Spock to stick by him despite the Vulcan's profession that he felt nothing in return for Jim. He knew that Captain James T. Kirk had been capable of being a real stubborn bastard, but how could he have set his mind on something so hopeless and painful? Whatever the man he used to be had wanted, it was time he found his own way. A humorless smile crept over his face; it was indeed the only way he'd ever get to be Captain James T. Kirk again.
"Start recording."
The corridors of USS Valiant were busy with crewmen and construction workers making their way towards the shuttle bay. There was a lot to get done, Jim knew. The flat-pack temporary buildings and the tents-they all had to be set up before they could begin shuttling the thousands of Vulcans from their cramped quarters on the Valiantdown onto the planet. Jim stopped a Lieutenant who was hurrying through the throng of people.
"Sorry to stop you, but this is deck thirty-eight, isn't it? There's meant to be a communications station here that I can use."
"Um," the lieutenant strained to look over Jim's shoulder, clearly not recognizing that Jim was even Starfleet since he wasn't wearing a uniform and, Jim had to admit, was looking rather scruffy.
"Lieutenant," he said firmly.
The man looked confused for an instant. "Right, this way."
Jim followed him to the Communications' department, where he was led to a public terminal. If he really wanted he was sure he could simply ask Captain Huxley for something better. She'd probably insist he use the one in ship's main conference room.
With a sigh he sat down at the terminal and grabbed an earpiece. This would do. He typed in his codes to bring up all the messages the Valiantwas carrying for him. There was one from Bones and he chose to listen to it first.
"Hey Jim, how're you? I got your short messages that everything was good, but tell me more …."
His friend talked about Jim's therapy; how well the study in general was going, that he hoped Jim was doing well on the drug. Well, Bones would not be disappointed with the reply he'd pre-recorded. He'd anticipated most of his friend's medical questions.
"… can't wait to have you back in the Captain's seat again. No disrespect to Spock, but he's not a leader like you are, Jim. Not at all."
Spock's message was next in line, but Jim went through all the others first before finally putting that video message on screen.
It started rather awkwardly, with Spock asking questions as if he were reading them off a list that he'd propped up somewhere just out of view of the screen; and maybe he was doing just that. 'How are you feeling? Do you like Saketh?' Those questions didn't roll of Spock's tongue fluidly. When he started reporting on ship's business he looked far more at ease. Spock's comfortable stance stiffened again as he fell silent. Then he formed the Vulcan salute and pressed his whole hand onto the screen.
"Live long and prosper, Jim."
Spock slowly peeled his hand away again, his index and middle finger lingering on the screen just a few heartbeats longer than the other digits.
Jim chewed his lower lip. He'd find Spock's message kind of cute as it seemed he had prepared for it and really, he felt sorry for dumping anyone via a subspace message, but him and Spock were not on the same page when it came to this relationship. The air around him felt too hot and stuffy as he fumbled with the collar of his long sleeved tee. Best not to think about it, he thought. He sent the messages; all of them. Hopefully this would allow him and Spock to return to their arguably more fulfilling friendship. He stood up. Having made the decision and followed through on it, he felt one step closer towards being Captain James T. Kirk again.
"Spock!" Jim exclaimed, as he exited the Valiant'ssickbay and spotted the Vulcan walking around a corner in the corridor.
"Hello, old friend," the future version of his …, of the younger Spock in this universe, said.
Jim recovered quickly and grinned broadly. "So you arrived here with the elders?"
"Indeed. How are you, Jim? I was informed you had suffered brain damage due to the Sakethan Katras, so I came to visit you in sickbay. I see your check-up is already over?"
Jim nodded. "I'm doing better than expected already! The drugs are definitely helping and I've been doing at least double the amount of mental exercises the doctors prescribed."
"I'm glad to hear that."
There was a warmth in the Vulcan's gravelly voice that moved Jim to stand closer to him as they walked, their steps perfectly in synch, towards the transporter room.
"Yeah, I'm getting my brain back slowly," he said, "if not my memories, and I'm starting to feel a lot more like myself. The admiralty thinks I'll be here for months, but you wait and see, Spock, I want my ship back, and I'll get her back early!"
Next to him the edges of Spock's mouth curled up slightly.
As Jim stepped into the cold air inside the mountain a few hectic days later he couldn't believe he was actually doing this—going back to this god-awful place. He had to close his eyes to walk on, one hand trailing the side of wall; had to imagine he was somewhere else, because every muscle fiber he had was telling him to get the hell out of here. There was no way he was going to run back out of the mountain city though, because if it did everyone would see it: the elders, Spock, Captain Huxley. He couldn't lose face in front of them and this was an important ceremony. And so he walked on, trying to remind himself that he was 'honored' to attend. His heart was racing as each one of his strides took him deeper into the heart of the mountain.
Jim stopped and leant against the wall for support; he was feeling dizzy. A firm hand grasped his shoulder to steady him. When he looked up he saw that the Vulcan elders had already passed him. None of them glanced his way, which might normally have bothered him, but right now it was exactly what he wanted. Captain Huxely stopped and looked concerned, but Jim waved her on and thankfully she went.
After a few minutes he was feeling stronger on his legs again.
"Jim, old friend, take your time," Spock said as if sensing that Jim had been about to suggest they walk on. "We can catch up with them easily when you're feeling better."
"Thanks."
He truly was grateful; and he also didn't mind Spock seeing him like this. When they started their journey to the Katric Ark again, Jim found that he still needed to distract himself in some way, but all there was to look at in the passageway were the walls and the floor. Huh. More walls, more floor. Then again, ….
"Spock, those walls-have you had a chance to go see the black road in the valley yet? That stone looks very similar to this stuff here. These walls are rougher, but they are all somehow … I don't know how to say it, somehow animated."
In the reflected glow of the flashlights they were carrying, Spock's face looked as hard as the walls.
"I don't know what the function of those stone structures is," Spock replied, "but it worries me that even you as a non-telepath can feel their strength."
Jim stopped and reached out to hold onto Spock's upper arm. "You mean to say, those might be giant tomb stones filled with … Katras?"
"No, I do not think they are. But that feeling you described, that they are animated, not completely dead, I feel it too."
With so much on his mind Jim didn't pay too much attention to his surroundings again until they entered the chamber of frescoes; there were some large dark splatters on the wall that he didn't remember being there last time. He scanned them with his tricorder. Blood. Human and Vulcan. An awful thought came to his mind and he scanned himself. Yes, it was his blood. He turned his head to check if Spock was looking his way, but he was studiously examining the frescos. Jim took a quick scan-although there wasn't much that got past that sly man, so he probably did notice—and it revealed that the Vulcan blood was Spock's.
He wondered why Spock had left out some of the gruesome details of what had occurred here, but maybe Spock didn't remember it all himself. Jim would have to ask him. The sight of the dark stains on the wall made his hair stand on end and he moved the flashlight away from them. But they'd stirred something inside him, reminders of why he and Spock were friends in the first place. He knew that the bond they shared was a special one: either of them would lay down his own life in an instant to save the other's. They could rely on each other when the mission got tough. Even on the Narada, when they'd hardly known each other, they'd worked well as a team, with Spock trusting him to keep the enemy at bay as he ransacked an unconscious Romulan's mind. And just recently as they escaped from the pirates, it had only been due to Spock handling the fuel injection manually that they'd gotten away. And he'd started that process before they were close to being blasted by the pirates' phaser banks, without an order. There weren't many officers who he'd trust to think and act like that.
"Jim, we should move on."
The light fell on the stain one last time-although Jim wasn't sure exactly what had happened down here, Spock had said he'd taken away Jim's pain to allow him to carry on, to shoot Kroth. He'd not said if that had been painful, or how much it had cost him, but Spock wouldn't, would he? And if he'd decided that Jim was in a better position than himself to act, then Spock must have been in far more pain, or at the very least, less mobile.
"Yes. Coming, Spock."
Again, Jim noticed how in tune the two of them were; how their footfalls were perfectly in time as they continued on towards the Ark. Did the Vulcan know what he was thinking? Almost certainly, he thought, and that brought a small smile to his face.
When they reached the Katric Ark the Vulcan elders were already standing in a circle, holding hands and chanting quietly. Around them the tall statues set into the walls loomed tall, while the reddish colored home-stones had been secured with straps on high ledges. Below them some of the stone artifacts they'd taken to the Enterprise for investigation were once more in their rightful place. He studied them now; they were black, but in some places red Vulcan stone had been set into them, giving the particular statue he was looking at now devil red eyes. Maybe they contained powerful and dangerous Katras. Spock had been very badly affected after analyzing them on the ship, he remembered. Badly enough to stir up the burning in this blood to such a level that he thought he was entering Pon Farr.
"So what happens now?" Jim whispered to Spock. "Have we missed the important part of the ceremony?"
"Not at all. They have yet to release the Katras they've been carrying into this Ark. Their role as vessels of the Vulcan culture will come to an end once they do so. I believe my father will be pleased to have his own life back-in recent months he's had to spend a lot of time in meditation."
"Yeah, I saw that in the report."
Spock leant in closer. "That reporter, Lessard, I had hoped that he would show something else. I admit I made an error in judgment in allowing him access to-."
There were no sparks, no lights, no ghostly apparitions, but Jim's hair was suddenly standing on end none the less, because there was something in the air, he could feel it. Around him electric fields were increasing in strength. He would have bolted right out of the chamber, onlookers be damned, if it hadn't been for one thing. In the relative darkness of the underground vault he felt dry fingers running over his wrist; then Spock was holding his hand. Jim checked if Huxley was looking their way, but her eyes were fixed on the Vulcan elders.
Jim's skin was tingling slightly now. He held on tightly to Spock's hand. It was the reassurance he needed that despite the obvious electrical disturbances, he'd be fine. Spock wouldn't keep him here if it was at all dangerous, he knew that.
Jim walked along what would be the main street of the new colony. To his left was a hospital that was almost complete. The project had started off as most others, under the joint supervision of the human construction workers and the Vulcans, but soon arguments had flared up and the Vulcans had dropped out. Opposite, the foundations of an elementary school were swamped with water. The Vulcans had taken complete control of that scheme. It was not going to be finished on time. Or ever, unless humans took charge of it, he thought bitterly. It didn't help that no human actually wanted to be involved in the building of the school as it was designed to form a U-shape around one of the black stone structures that jutted into the main street at that point. The Vulcans had wanted to design as many buildings as possible around the black slabs, though most of them were located amongst the ancient ruins, and those projects would have to wait until a later date to be tackled.
Jim passed the school's foundations, but he had noted that the stone had been laid bare and polished; the standard of care given to the monument was clearly higher than that given to the building work around it.
More encouragingly the nursery next to it was almost complete. Behind schedule, as it was only meant to have taken three weeks to erect, but considering it was a Vulcan led project that wasn't too bad.
He turned left off the main street then and into a large tent to get his dinner. The tent was silent, so nothing out of the ordinary there. Just a small amount of noise from the shuffling of feet and the clattering of cutlery, but even those sounds seemed dulled. No one looked up to indicate that they'd noticed him enter. Everyone in the tent was Vulcan—all the other humans had stopped eating here after only two weeks on Saketh.
Jim lifted the lid off each of the industrial sized cooking pots in turn—the food was cold. All of it. There was nobody attending the pots, making more food, or heating up what was already there. He looked around the tent. No one seemed to think this was a problem or if they did, they weren't going to take charge of the situation. Jim balled his fists. He'd played this exact game twice already this week, getting people organized, but today … today he didn't care. This wasn't a situation on the edge of the neutral zone; he could walk away from this. Before he strode out he took one last glance around the tent. Sitting in a corner his gaze finally found Spock; the old Vulcan looked up, saw him, then lowered his eyes again. Even Spock didn't care about him anymore. He shook his head as he left.
He was still hungry though and in the distance he could hear the sound of laugher and loud voices. It was like sunshine after spending too long underground-it was an amazing sound and he was drawn to it, despite also feeling like he shouldn't go. It wasn't right that the humans and Vulcans were separating into camps, he should go back to the Vulcan tent to make a point … continue to eat with the Vulcans … but today, just today, he thought, he couldn't face dinner with them.
As he walked into the tent people waved at him and called out his name.
"Hey Jim," Tareq called out. "Over here! Come sit down!"
He joined Tareq's table. "This is Chris, Sung Jin and Beatrice. I'll go get you something to eat. Any preferences?"
"There's a choice?"
Jeff laughed. "Hell yes! It's not great, but at least we've got a choice of soup."
Jim grinned. "I'll have whatever."
Around him people were laughing and smiling. You didn't see that normally on Saketh.
"What's the occasion, or is there none?" Jim asked Beatrice.
"No occasion. Why do you ask?"
"I've just never seen anyone this happy to be on Saketh in a long time."
"Ah, well, it's hard to be happy when the Vulcans are around, but here it's just humans. And well, Bal'eia, but she doesn't count, she's Orion." Beatrice giggled. "We can just forget about them and have fun. We didn't really dare to at first, but then we decided we needed this. We need to live a little to keep our sanity."
Although Jim could understand the sentiment the smile on his face faded a bit at hearing her words. He was about to reply when Tareq returned with steaming hot soup and a side plate of mashed potatoes and gravy.
Jim stared at the plate. "Tareq, I could kiss you right now. Do you know how long it's been since I've seen anything other than Starfleet rations or Vulcan porridge?"
Tareq clapped him on the back and sat down next to him. "There's always extra food for you, Jim, if you want it. But it's just the powdery potato mash you add hot water too. Still, a taste of home."
After the meal the warmth of the emotions inside the tent were enough to keep out the chilly Sakethan air as Jim drank a hot coffee (awful coffee, but coffee all the same) with everyone else at the table.
The buzz of conversation washed over and around him as he focused on his drink's pleasant aroma. But something in the conversation was starting to irritate his subconscious. He woke out of his daze and listened in.
"My computer has more emotions…."
"Worked with them on earth, but now they're worse—horrible."
"… pointy eared and lazy…."
"Gotta go! Gotta also make sure not to explain to the dumb humans why or when…."
"The temperatures reached so far below freezing in the wintertime where I grew up," Beatrice was saying, "any water was immediately turned to ice in a nanosecond, and yet there's even less warmth in the company of those-."
Jim put his mug down on the table with a thud.
"You're all talking like those people in that UE News 24 report," Jim said.
The conversation at the table stopped.
Beatrice's eyes went wide. "You're not going to report us to the media or," she creased her brow, "Starfleet, are you?"
"He is Starfleet, Beatrice," Chris hissed.
They all hung their heads as if they'd just been handed a death sentence.
Jim sighed. "No, I'm not going to report you to anyone. I-."
Before he could even finish Chris, the young construction worker, cut in. "Ha, so you do understand us!"
"But they lost their planet! What do you want them to do? Celebrate?" Jim snapped.
"They're being horrible to us," Chris countered.
The young man was really getting worked up; his jaw was clenched and his face was beginning to flush red. Jim didn't know if there was even any point in reasoning with him, but he tried anyway.
"They're not, I don't think, doing that intentionally. They're just too wrapped up in their own grief and anger-," Jim started, but Chris interrupted him again.
"I'm the son of colonists. My entire colony was wiped out in a natural disaster. I'm one of the few survivors." Now Chris had stood up and the noise in the tent briefly increased as people turned in their seats to watch. "Do you see me being such an ass? No. But remember the first Vulcan colony we tried to set up for them? Vulcans are just ungrateful assholes. End of."
His declaration was followed by a shocked silence from everyone present and Chris let himself fall back down into his seat, shaking. He hung his head; tears were streaming down his face.
"Damn, I didn't really mean that," he choked.
Chris put his head in his hands and started to sob. Jim stared at him as did everyone else, until someone he didn't recognize came over, sat down in the chair next to the young man, and put his arm around him.
Then he turned to address Jim. "Are you going to defend the Vulcans or what? They have no empathy with us!"
Jim pinched the bridge of his nose. "Empathy. No, they don't have any, do they?"
He wondered why he'd not thought about it like that before. Then he stood up. He wanted his voice to project clearly to everyone in the room.
"I see Chris right now and I feel his pain. To a lesser degree than if it were my own. But I feel it, it's a natural reaction. That's empathy."
He looked around the room, letting his gaze linger on those pairs of eyes in which he saw the most doubt.
"The Vulcans do have emotions, despite what some of you may have heard. They act on logic though. When an emotion gets in the way of logic, they will suppress that emotion. Being able to suppress emotions is a tool they are used to using, and right now, I believe they are using it all the time. It's not even been a year since they lost their entire world; only one in every six hundred thousand Vulcans survived—I think if I were them, I'd do the same. But when they shield themselves from their own emotions, they are also shielding themselves from ours. They don't mean to be 'assholes'," he finished his speech quietly, but clearly, walking over now to put a hand on Chris's shoulder.
And with that he left the tent without looking back. He knew where he'd be eating tomorrow and that would be with the Vulcans.
As soon as he was in his own little tent he flopped down onto his sleeping pallet. The worst thing was that, damnit, his own argument failed to convince even him entirely, though he definitely believed what he's explained to Chris was part of the problem. But there was more to it than that, because the Vulcans weren't acting logically either. He was sure they weren't being assholes on purpose; that just couldn't be right.
But what if that was what Vulcans were usually like? a treacherous voice in mind supplied.
He cut his mental exercises down to only half an hour that night so he could go over some important historical tactics used by various captains during confrontations with the Romulans. When he finally tried to get some rest for the night, he wasn't able to keep still in his sleeping bag, turning over every couple of minutes. After about an hour of that he gave up and pulled out a box from the corner of his tent. He took out Spock's blue shirt-underneath it was the photo of his father. He stared at it for a few long moments. The cog wheels were turning in his brain. He wasn't there yet, he knew he was still missing some vital information to understand the Vulcans.
He grabbed a PADD and made a note to check the databases first thing tomorrow; he needed to read up on what had actually happened to the first colony. He remembered as far back as when they were in the Huygens system that the tragedy was being talked about in whispers. But he didn't remember why it was talked about only in hushed tones, nor what had actually happened there. It was something he could easily look up though.
The next morning Kirk walked solemnly into the supply tent for breakfast after checking the databases first. He probably needed a wash, but he'd grab some food first as he was already late and didn't want to miss breakfast. This morning a small group of humans, Chris amongst them, were sitting at a table together, but at least they were in the same tent as the Vulcans.
He smiled at them and grabbed a bowl of the horrible porridge stuff that had the texture of aloe but the taste of woodchip. There was a sauce to poor over it that reminded Jim of seaweed and which he passed on before seating himself at the nearest table. Spock was sitting there, but a few seats down.
"Don't think we've met," he introduced himself to the Vulcan next to him. "Jim Kirk."
"Torek," the Vulcan replied.
Jim took a spoonful of food while he tried to think of anything other than the weather to talk about when Torek finished his food and left. Well, he'd tried; maybe he should have washed before breakfast after all. As he ate he became aware that the Vulcan opposite him was staring at him. Jim met his eyes-one of the Vulcan elders, if he wasn't mistaken. Councilor Sprinek, wasn't it?
"It's been worse since we came to Saketh, you know," Sprinek said.
"How so?" Jim asked.
The Vulcan elder didn't answer and just when Jim had given up the on the conversation the other pushed his half-finished bowl of porridge to one side.
"Saketh is better than anything we could have hoped to find. The Ark here provided us with a means to lay the remnants of our now dead culture to rest."
"Your culture isn't dead!"
"Yes it is. Look around, this is not Vulcan. Future generations will adjust, and that is … comforting. But Vulcans like me, we will not understand nor share in the culture of any people who call this place home."
"I'm sorry to hear that, and I do understand what you're saying," Jim said. "I get the impression that not all Vulcans think that way though. I'm pretty sure Spock doesn't, for one."
"How would humans react if they were in this situation? Do you know?" the councilor asked.
Jim was taken a bit aback by the shift in the conversation.
"No, I don't," Jim replied after a few moments thought. "But in general, after large-scale tragedies we mourn, grieve, and eventually many are able to move on."
It seemed to be what Sprinek had wanted to hear as he inclined his head slightly while Jim said that.
"So by dealing with your emotions," Sprinek stated. "Indeed I am hopeful that many of us may learn to purge all emotion by completing the Kolinahr. And we must do that, because the only emotions we are capable of experiencing at the present are negative ones, such as anger."
"I've seen more behind Spock's facade in the past!"
"Indeed. And there you have it—yet more proof to add to the body of evidence that humans and Vulcans are affected by the aftermath of tragic events in fundamentally different ways."
Jim frowned, and went back over the conversation in his head.
"You think Spock's human?" he asked eventually.
"Of course he is one of you," Sprinek answered, leaving Jim wondering whether the Vulcan needed an eye test, because he felt Spock's alien appearance was hard to mistake for that of a human.
Jim stared into his porridge bowl. Had he read Spock so wrong? Spock had told him that he only felt anger. Slowly, the hairs all over his body pricked up as the thought of all those negative emotions churning around inside the Vulcans reminded him of what he'd read this morning.
"Is that what happened on the first colony?" he burst out. "I couldn't find anything about their being an official enquiry, let alone any conclusions it might have drawn if there was one, but I read that it was rumored that what happened there was a mass suicide … triggered by a horrible murder committed by a Vulcan."
The elder didn't reply to that and Jim could tell this was the end of their conversation.
After breakfast everything was a rush, because the USS Freedom had arrived in orbit earlier than anticipated. On his way to the large vessel's sickbay Jim learnt that they'd not been informed of the correct time of arrival for fear of the message being intercepted by the Romulans. Jim treated that as the rumor it currently was, but still—it was worrying.
"Glad you could finally make it, Doctor Sargoni!" Jim exclaimed when he reached his destination.
He held out a hand, which Sargoni took and shook vigorously.
"Yes, good to finally meet you in person! I'd hoped to be on the first ship, but with the majority of the Vulcans still on Earth I ended up stationed there. Glad to be here now, though. I'd say we get started with your scans right away, Captain-they'll take a while I'm afraid."
Jim found it hard to keep up his good humor during the scans; he wanted to take the aptitude tests. He felt like he was back and ready to command his ship again. If the tests showed otherwise, he would definitely be disappointed.
"Right, onto the tests now," Sargoni said cheerfully.
Once those were also over, Jim swung his legs impatiently as he sat on one of the sickbay beds. Thankfully Sargoni had them evaluated quickly enough.
"Remarkable!" the doctor said.
Jim's heart leapt at Sargoni's tone. "Sounds like this might be good news."
"Well, I'm definitely taking you off your medication or you'll turn into some super-human being. We'd thought you'd need a lot longer, but your tests and scans are all very good."
A big gin spread across Jim's face. "So, that's it? I can have my command back?"
"Well, if these scans were all you were waiting for, then I'll send them straight to the admirals."
"Thank you, Doctor. I've still got prove that I know the difference between a dilithium crystal and rock-salt, but I know I can answer any questions they send my way."
"Excellent news all round then," Sargoni said smiling. "Although the dead brain tissue has left you with some lesions that we'll have to keep an eye on." He tipped his head to one side. "You aren't sad then that this is it? This is the most your brain will ever be fixed. Any memories you don't have now are lost forever because the synapses that held them are dead and gone. There's nothing left of your missing memories that could be saved."
Jim shrugged. "Got to live with that, haven't I? As you said, nothing will bring those parts of myself back, so I've gotta move on with my life—hopefully there will be some time left for me to make new memories. As long as I get my ship back, I'll be happy."
"I'm sure you'll be getting her back, Captain." Then the corners of his mouth turned down. "But with all due respect, sir, you must have lost some memories that meant a lot to you."
Jim bit back the defensive reply on the tip of his tongue. "Yes. Yes, I have," he said finally. "And it does worry me." He realized his voice was increasing in volume, but he couldn't stop it. "I can't remember the first time I killed a man. That's something I feel like I shouldn't have forgotten."
Sargoni nodded. "I will write a recommendation for some counseling sessions for you."
Then he extended his hand to wish Jim goodbye.
Jim blinked. "Wait." He took a moment's pause to calm down; then he held up a hand. "I did want to ask you something."
He took another deep breath. Sargoni had managed to get under his skin with his probing, but he had to get a grip on himself and focus.
"Sure," the doctor replied.
"Not related to myself. This is about the Vulcans. The way they're behaving … is it normal?"
Sargoni smiled even more now and Jim wondered if maybe he'd accidentally hypo'd himself something strong earlier. Or maybe not 'accidentally'-he was working with Vulcans all day long after all, so really his good mood was highly suspicious.
"Since I'm not working on the Pon Farr problem anymore, thanks to you, Captain, I've been able to devote more time to my other research. I'm now looking into their mass depression."
"I thought Vulcans couldn't get depression, something about their brain physiology being different?"
"Yes, that's what the Vulcans say, which is why I'm having a hard time proving that they can. That and the fact that every Vulcan who didn't show up clear on their first psych eval showed up clear the next time they took the test. They just learn how to answer the test so that they 'do well' on it the next time. Huh, they really don't want to be diagnosed."
"So what about brain scans?"
"Tried that, but it's inconclusive, unless you can find me someone who specializes in the Vulcan brain. There are no human experts, no surviving Vulcan experts—it would have been very lucky to find one out of only ten-thousand who happened to be an expert—and of course there are no recorded cases of any Vulcans being depressed in the medical databases of the Federation and, like you said, according to the Vulcans: they're not human, they don't get depression. Which is basically them telling me to go shove my research …, well, you know where, sir."
"If the Vulcans insist they can't get depression, why are you trying to make the diagnosis?"
"Because my xeno-medical intuition tells me I'm right. And although each Vulcan is affected differently in one sense, in another, there're many parallels. What they're going through is quite obviously nothing like depression in humans, but far more alien. I'm happy to be here on Saketh finally, as by all accounts the situation here is far, far worse than it was San Francisco. Very interesting from a scientific point of view—obviously it's not good news, but maybe it will provide me with another piece of the puzzle. So far I've not even got enough to convince Starfleet medical. After all, who's to say they just aren't behaving 'normally' after the destruction of their planet. Huh, as if there was anything even remotely normal in losing your planet."
"Agreed with you there. Well thanks for proving me with your puzzle piece. I'll let you know if I can find any more and please keep me updated on your work."
"Will do, will do," Sargoni promised. "If you need my help, just call me. I've grown quite attached to my patients and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for them already. Saketh is the right planet for them, I'm sure. For one it gives them all the chance at a future without having to worry about something as simple as sex."
As soon as Jim left sickbay he headed directly for the bridge. He got a few odd looks on the way-damnit, he needed his uniform back—but Captain Naroyan then got him set up in the conference room and requested her communications officer to set up a priority call to Admiral Pike. Then she left Jim alone in the room.
"I hear this is urgent?" Pike asked as soon as he appeared on screen.
"Yes, I want my ship back," Jim said, concentrating on keeping his voice level; he remembered all too well how it had gone the last time he'd talked to Pike.
His former mentor was guarding his expression equally well, though. Jim couldn't read it.
"You can command her?" Pike asked finally.
"I couldn't two and a half months ago, I admit. But I know I can now. There're some medical test results on their way to you and most importantly, I know the Academy curriculum better than I did before I sat my finals. You can tell your cadets not to moan at the workload-it's not that hard if I can manage to get through it all so quickly, only working on it during the night."
"Yes, but you hadn't forgotten everything. Only a few specific things."
"Shush, you don't need to tell them that!" Jim smiled brightly.
Pike regarded him quizzically. He'd seen that look on Pike before, it roughly translated to: 'what the devil are you blathering on about, kid?' But, hell, someone had to try and break the ice, Jim thought. This was something he was not going to give up on.
"I'm starting to think the doctors might have either done too good a job with your brain," Pike replied, "or utterly failed. I guess I'll have to wait for the test results to convince myself."
There was the twinkle of humor in those eyes and Jim let out a small sigh of relief.
"So, back to the real point of this conversation," Jim said. "Where's my ship now and how long will it take her to get here? Or will I have to hitch a ride with Captain Naroyan to the next starbase for a rendezvous there?"
"I'll send her to you, because although I know you were just trying to be obnoxious in making this a priority call, this is actually urgent. Starfleet needs you back in command of the Enterprise, so I'm glad to hear you're better sooner than we expected."
The grin slipped off Jim's face. "Why? What happened? Is Spock alright?"
Pike sighed. "Spock's fine, but he's not … we're having trouble with both the Klingons and the Romulans. So we need tactical people like you who can think outside the box. As you know, Spock is more of an in the box person, whereas you're so far away from the box you can't even find it. That's why you two together make a good command duo. The Romulan border isn't too far from Saketh, so it makes sense to redeploy the Enterprise there. We need to show those Romulans that we're going to defend Saketh. It's an easy target for them at the moment."
"It seems I've missed a lot of news," Jim said gravely. "I knew we had trouble with the Klingons, but the Romulans? What happened?"
"Starfleet Intelligence report the Klingons are in talks with the Romulans. In short, the Klingons want to strike us now while we're down, but since Nero destroyed a large part of their fleet too, they want to team up with the Romulans. We're rebuilding the fleet as fast as we can. You're not the only one who's had a meteoric promotion." Pike sat up straighter. "Right, I'll get this sorted as soon as all the tests come through. I can count on it that you'll pass any tests sent your way to assess your professional knowledge?"
Jim winked at him. "Yes, you can count on that. Send them as soon as you can."
"Will do. So there's only one thing remaining. You and your first?"
"I ended it."
Pike gave him a measuring stare. The Spock shaped hole in his heart had been getting larger the last two days and now it was bleeding profusely as he stumbled his way through an explanation of Spock's Pon Farr like symptoms and how he'd given Spock the relief from those symptoms that he'd needed. After sharing that with Pike, he felt as hollow as he had the day Spock had broken up with him-but he'd wanted to share what had happened with the admiral, as a sign that he was willing to work on rebuilding the bridges he'd burnt.
Pike didn't say anything for a while. But Jim saw some of the hardness melt out of his eyes. For the first time they showed some understanding. It made Jim's throat constrict just a tiny bit.
"I'm sorry I accused you of taking advantage of Spock. I'm only sorry about that bit mind-you deserved the rest of what I said. After all Spock's been through I feel a little protective of him. I know we're talking about a Vulcan here, but I've known Spock for years and if I was allowed to use only one word to describe him, then I'd choose 'big-hearted'. But the second would be 'loyal'. And so I didn't want Spock getting himself into a bad relationship. Not that, not that you're bad. But you're his superior, Jim."
Jim felt the bottom slowly sag and then drop out of his stomach. That's certainly not how he'd ever thought about it, though he understood Pike's anger better now. Spock hadn't tolerated him out of some misplaced sense of loyalty, surely? No, even though he'd been the one to push for them to have a relationship, he still knew he hadn't coerced him, he was sure of it.
"Relationships between the first officer and captain of a starship are not to be taken lightly." Pike paused then. "But, well, if you two do get back together, I guess … I want you to know that I'll cover for you, as I did for Spock and Uhura. A lot happens on deep space voyages that not every admiral would agree with, but I get the feeling that I'd rather know what's going on with you two at all times than have you keep it secret. So whatever you do, keep me informed and, as always, be discrete, will you? I don't want the press finding out-ever. Okay?"
"Understood, sir," Jim said woodenly.
"Take care, Jim. Pike out."
The Enterprisewas due to arrive in a few days now and before she did there was one Spock he had to talk to first before he could face the other. Jim strode through the main street; since it was now early afternoon, building work was in full swing. He spotted Chris talking to a Vulcan. The young man turned, spotted him, and waved. Jim returned the gesture and walked on down the road and on past the temporary accommodation units and tents until he finally found Spock standing in a natural clearing next to a small space craft. He remembered it had only arrived three days ago—a private trading vessel apparently.
"Spock?"
"Ah, Jim. How are you?"
"Good, thanks. Looking forward to getting my ship back. Haven't seen you around in a while, is everything alright?"
"I've been busy."
"Well, I've got a few things on my mind that I wanted to talk to you about," Jim said, scratching the back of his neck.
Spock nodded. "I suggest we go inside and sit down then."
Jim looked up at the ship. "Sure."
"You know the traders?" he asked as they each took a seat in the small craft.
Spock regarded the ceiling as if fascinated by it. "Let's just say I was able to provide them with enough credits that they decided that they quite liked Saketh. So they will not need this ship again anytime soon."
"You're leaving? When were you going to tell me?"
Spock's eyes usually gave him away to Jim, but now the shutters the Vulcan could pull up to guard them where closed tighter than usual.
"Huh. Well this is exactly it, you know-what I came to talk about. Most of the Vulcans here, their behavior … now, don't get me wrong: I can't even start to imagine what it's like to lose my planet and be one of the last survivors of my race. I can't."
Jim wrung his hands.
"I've had to live with watching my mom never recover from her own survivor's guilt after the death of my father; I know what it's like to be messed up inside."
He didn't mention his own stunt with driving a car off a cliff or any of the subsequent stuff he'd been up to following that.
"And I know what it's like to live with depression," he said quietly. "The fact that you and your counterpart both seem less affected makes me think it's probably something biological, that Vulcans are just different in that respect. But I don't know what to make of all this. Help me out here if you can? Is this … anything anyone can help with? Do you all just need time? Is there anything I can do?"
"There does seem to be a problem with the ship's engines if you could lend me a hand?"
"That's not what I meant!"
"This is hard to put into words. But," Spock raised a placating hand to prevent Jim from protesting. "I will try."
Jim nodded his head. "Okay, I'm listening."
"I think your observation is incorrect. I do not think I am any less affected. If you are referring to the conversation you had with Sprinek, which I did happen to overhear, then I want you to know that I do not believe all Vulcans are as badly affected as he is with negative emotions. I do, however, agree with him that the Kolinhar is the best way to stop the escalating feelings of anger that are afflicting us. And we must fight our emotions; if we didn't suppress them … we would be monsters."
Spock let those words sink in before continuing. "I myself am trained in the ways of the Kolinahr, and although I never completed the discipline, I retain the knowledge of how to purge emotions."
Jim's thoughts all ground to halt; they'd all focused in one specific part of the sentence.
"You wanted to get rid of all your emotions forever? Why?"
Spock shook his head. "That is not important. What is of importance right now, however, are the engines of this ship if I am ever to get to Romulus."
"I can see you're just deflecting the question, as you always do when I ask about your timeline … but, wait-damnit, you're good! Romulus? Why do you want to go there?"
"Because, Jim, the Federation is ill prepared for a war against both the Romulan and the Klingon Empire. So I must go and do some … meddling."
"Aren't you worried they'll like, just take you prisoner? Torture you?"
This time Spock raised an eyebrow slowly and delicately. "Vulcan's do not worry."
Jim sighed. Maybe the two Spocks weren't so different after all.
After taking note of everything important about the engines, he left to fetch a few things from the shuttle craft before returning.
"Got everything for the repairs now," he said.
Well, 'repairs' wasn't really the right word to use here—he could do better than that.
"I never knew you had such a talent as a mechanic," Spock said after Jim had finished his work. "I do not believe my Jim would have been able to do what you just did."
My Jim.What kind of relationship had they shared in Spock's timeline? He remembered the feel of Spock's dry hand grasping his firmly in the Katric Ark. He looked up at the Vulcan from his position kneeling on the floor in front of an open wall panel.
"Well, I'm full of surprises, eh?" He screwed the panel back into place and stood up. "The ship'll be quicker than before, but try to get rid of it as soon as you get to Luria II-before they do any safety checks, okay?"
Spock bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Live long and prosper, Jim. I hope we meet again."
"Yeah, you look after yourself, too, Spock," Jim said in return. He took hold of the ambassador's left shoulder and squeezed it. "Good luck with the Romulans."
When the party had beamed down Jim could see the tension in Spock's stance. He didn't look comfortable in the slightly over large command-gold shirt he was wearing; and as a gust of wind blew down the estuary onto the beach, it ruffled Spock's hair for a moment. In that blink of an eye, Spock did look disheveled-just a bit.
"Captain, it is good to see you again," he said flatly.
Bones, satisfied that this was enough of the formalities jumped forward until he was next to Jim, put an arm around him and squeeze him tight.
"Missed you, kid. Good to have you back. Knew you'd do it!"
Bones hugged him tighter. "And with you, I mean you. Not that I wasn't glad to have any Jim come back out of that Ark, but I'm glad the therapy worked."
The rest of his senior crew came closer too to greet him warmly and congratulate him on his recovery. That is, all apart from Spock.
"Nice beard, Captain!" Sulu commented.
Jim could see Uhura's eyes flick between him and Spock.
"It's just a short walk from here to the settlement, but we'd better get going," Jim said.
He gestured with his right hand for them to start the walk up the valley, along the black road. As everyone got going Jim made eye contact with both Bones and Uhura; they nodded in reply. They understood he wanted to talk to Spock away from everyone else, so they rounded up Chekov, Sulu and Scotty and whisked them off along the straight road. Jim waited a little and then Spock came to stand next to him.
He noticed that everyone up ahead was slowly gravitating to the right side of the road and within a minute they were walking next to it, amongst the rhubarb-like plants.
"How are you, Jim, and how has it been for you here on Saketh?"
It sounded pretty rehearsed. That was alright though, Jim told himself; after all it meant he did care, just maybe not right now.
At present there was no point telling his friend about any of the turmoil of his emotions-Spock clearly wouldn't be able to connect with him on an emotional level; not at this point in time at least, hopefully sometime later today. Jim decided he could be that patient.
"Yeah, I'm good thanks. We can talk about Saketh and how it's been for me here this evening, or maybe tonight, because there's a lot I want to tell you. But first I want to hear how you are. How've you found captaining the Enterprise?"
"The experience has been ... fascinating."
"I thought you might say that."
"I believe the crew will be very happy that you are back."
Spock took off the gold command shirt and held it out in front of him.
"Captain," he said.
Jim took it off him, careful not to accidentally brush his fingers against Spock's-just the thought of that had his heart beating harder-and then because there didn't seem to be anything else to do in this situation, he put the shirt on. He looked down at himself; he was getting his ship, his life, back. Finally.
He grinned. "This feels good. Really, really good. Thank you, Spock."